Jailbait (Southern Rebels MC Book 1)

by Kristin Coley

  “Okay,” she murmured, finishing off her candy bar. “I have another question.” I nodded, expecting her to ask about how I planned to kill Grant or what would happen next. “How can I get Ronnie to let Candy work at the salon?”

  My lips parted and then the question registered, “Wait, what?”

  Clutch and I stared at her, neither sure we’d heard her correctly.

  “Candy wants to do hair. I told her I’d talk to Ronnie, but I can’t figure out how to convince Ronnie to give her a chance.”

  “Candy wants to do hair?” I repeated, still stuck on that statement. “I thought she wanted to be an old lady.”

  “She does, but that’s not working out and she loves working with hair. The problem is –”

  “Ronnie,” Clutch interrupted and Jailbait nodded. “She won’t let club girls work at the salon.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I muttered, passing Jailbait a pack of crackers.

  “Me either until Candy told me,” she admitted, stuffing an entire cracker in her mouth. “But she’s really good at hair and I think it’ll be good for her self-esteem if she can work at the salon.”

  Clutch’s eyes met mine and he mouthed, “Self-esteem?”

  “The thing I need to figure out is how to convince Ronnie to give her a chance,” Jailbait tapped her lip. “Is there anything she wants? Like an exchange of favors?” She looked at Clutch and he shook his head.

  “Why are you looking at me?”

  “Because you know her best?” Jailbait suggested, glancing at me for support. I had to agree with her as we both turned to look at him. “I mean you’ve been in love with her for years. You’re bound to know what she’d want.”

  He growled, muttering curses under his breath, but finally relented. “Kara,” he grunted, staring at the ground. “I know she hates having to ask her mom to babysit all the time.” He lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “If you offered to babysit, she might give Candy a chance.”

  Jailbait nodded in understanding, “Tit for tat. That’s a great idea. I knew you’d know.” She punched his shoulder lightly. “It’s really too bad she never gave you a shot.”

  He gave a close lipped smile, pushing to his feet. “I think I’ll go check the road. The creepy roadside picnic has been fun but I’m done when we start talking about my love life.” He was already walking away when I heard him mutter under his breath, “Or lack of.”

  Jailbait cringed, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Its a’ight,” I waved it off. “He’s always been touchy when it comes to Ronnie. Especially since Kara was born.”

  “I guess he figured he really didn’t have a shot after that,” she commented, gathering up the wrappers from our snacks. She glanced over her shoulder to the car. “I guess it is disrespectful to eat when that guy just died.”

  “That guy would have dragged you to Grant and not lifted a finger to help you,” I replied, casting a disinterested glance at him. “He’s lucky he died on impact.”

  “You know, you’re kind of scary,” Jailbait mentioned, bringing my gaze to hers as my heart gave a dull thump. I had wondered when it would be too much for her.

  “You scared of me, Jailbait?” I forced the question out, not allowing my own sudden fear of her answer to show.

  She studied me for a second, then shook her head. “No.” I exhaled, ignoring the relief that coursed through me. “I think you have your own code.” She plucked at my jacket. “I can respect that. I can even understand it.” She stared up at me fiercely. “I want justice for my mom.” I nodded, promising myself she’d get exactly that. “He’d never pay for what he did that day, not in a court, but you can make sure he never does it again.”

  I nodded again, my hand covering hers, stilling the restless thrumming of her fingers. “It’s not just your mom I’m getting justice for,” I told her. “He hurt you too.” Her eyes glistened, reminding me of the terror I’d seen in them the first time our eyes had met. “I don’t know what happened that day,” I said carefully, swallowing hard as she lowered her head. “The day you and your mom ran, but he took something from you,” her throat bobbed, “And today, I want to give that back to you.” Her gaze rose to meet mine. “You never need to fear him again,” I promised, locking our fingers together.

  She gave me a soft smile. “I haven’t feared him….not since I met you.”

  “Guys, show time.” Clutch headed back toward us, sliding the helmet on as he laid down next to his bike. “I’ve got your back.”

  I nodded, already knowing it without being told. I grabbed Jailbait’s upper arm, making it look like I was restraining her as we stood by the back of the car. “Look scared,” I reminded her with a wink. She ducked her head, trying to pull her body as far away from mine as she could. We heard the roar of a car and I hoped like hell it wasn’t some country kid joyriding. The squeal of brakes combined with yet another black sedan told me we had our guy.

  An older man climbed from the car, buttoning his jacket as he came toward us. His entire body vibrated, his gaze locked on Jailbait, as he smiled in delight. My lip curled at the sight of him. It was definitely the guy who’d run them off the road that day.

  “Sloan, my dear, I’ve been so worried about you,” he caroled and Jailbait’s body went taut under my grip. I reached back for my gun, deciding that was enough for me, but it was gone. Grant came to a sudden stop, his gaze now focused on the gun in Jailbait’s hand. He chuckled, “Come now, Sloan. You don’t want to do that. I’ll take excellent care of you.”

  “You killed her,” she stated, her voice terrifyingly devoid of any emotion. “You hurt me, but you destroyed her,” she continued, the gun steady in her hand. “She trusted you and you betrayed her.”

  “Jailbait,” I crooned under my breath. “Let me do this. You don’t want his blood on your hands.”

  “You can’t kill me,” Grant scoffed, completely unconcerned. From the corner of my eye, I saw Clutch rise, but I kept my focus on Jailbait and the cocked gun in her hand.

  “I promise I’ll make him pay,” I swore to her. “Just give me the gun.”

  “I don’t like when people hurt the ones I love,” she shouted. “When they threaten them.”

  “Your mom was a casualty of your own doing,” Grant blustered. “If you hadn’t fought, if you hadn’t run – ”

  “This is not your fault,” I muttered desperately. “Her death was not your fault.” I slowly reached for the gun. “Give me the gun and I’ll make sure the guilty one pays the price.”

  “I’ll always wonder,” she answered, her chin tilting up. “If it could have turned out differently, but you’re still guilty.” Her finger curved around the trigger as her mouth curled up. “And you’ll pay.”

  The crack took me by surprise, Clutch too as he stilled, both of us watching Grant fall to the ground, an expression of shock following him into death.

  “I’m sorry,” Sloan whispered, turning to stare at me. “I had to do it.”

  “Jailbait,” I murmured, my voice trailing off at the pain in her eyes.

  “My mom kept a gun by her bed,” she continued, the words spilling out of her. “When he attacked me, I fought. I kept thinking if I can get to the gun, I can stop him.” I didn’t speak, afraid if I did she’d stop talking and she needed to tell someone. Clutch stood to the side, stone-faced. “He pinned me to the bed, said things,” she shook her head, her lip curled in disgust, “Told me to be a good little girl.” Her gaze strayed to where Grant lay sprawled on the ground. “I wasn’t a good little girl. I punched him in the nuts and ran to my mom’s room. I shut the door behind me and locked it.”

  I nodded encouragingly and her breath gusted from her. “The gun was right there in the drawer, just like it always was,” she explained, looking up at me with a pleading expression. “Just sitting there, waiting for me to pick it up.” I waited, knowing she needed to finish telling her story. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it. To pick it up and shoot him.” She
bit her lip so hard it bled and I rubbed her arm gently. “Mom came in as he was pounding on the door, demanding I let him in. She got him out of the house and after she saw me,” her eyes grew unfocused, lost in relieving the moment, “She told me to grab a bag…that we were leaving.” Her eyes closed. “You know the rest.”

  I spoke carefully, making my words very clear. “What happened was not your fault.”

  She looked up at me, regret in her eyes. “I will always wonder if she’d still be alive, if I’d just had the courage to shoot him when I had the chance.”

  I shook my head, my thumb brushing away a tear that escaped down her cheek. “We can’t know. He still might have come after you. Your mom might still have chosen to run. There’s no way of knowing the outcome.”

  “Blaming yourself is the last thing your mom would have wanted you to do,” Clutch spoke up, his hands shoved into his pockets.

  “Leave the guilt where it belongs,” I commanded, as I tugged her toward Grant’s body. “Right here. With the man who was responsible for her death.”

  “It’s that easy?” She asked, staring at his lifeless body.

  “No,” I acknowledged. “But it’s a good place to start.”

  She nodded slowly, crossing her arms over her stomach, and after a long minute glanced up at me. “I’m ready to go now.”

  “Okay,” I answered, studying her carefully. Her eyes were clear, her expression more at ease. She handed me the gun, which I accepted with a warning, “Do not ever take a gun from me again.” She nodded, her gaze contrite as she worried her lower lip where she’d bitten down. I smoothed my finger over the puffy spot until her lips parted. “I’m proud of you, Jailbait.”

  She glanced up at me through long eyelashes. “For killing a man?”

  A choked snort escaped Clutch as I shook my head, saying, “No, Jailbait. For facing him and your own fear. That takes courage.”

  “You were next to me,” she murmured in explanation, her gaze dropping from mine as she started toward the road. I stood there staring after her as pressure built in my chest.

  “Breathe, Hot Shot,” Clutch slammed his fist into my back and I sucked in a lungful of oxygen. “Let’s get my bike and get out of here.” I nodded, my gaze still on Jailbait as I followed him.

  Chapter Ten

  Sloan

  I wiggled my butt but there wasn’t much space to maneuver being wedged between the two guys. Clutch leaned against the truck door, but his wide shoulders took up most of the seat. My feet rested on the center console, my knees almost to my chest, but it didn’t seem to bother Creed as he propped his elbow on them.

  I was starting to regret my decision to continue on. I wanted to meet the guy Johnny had told me about, but three hours crammed into the truck cab with these two was bringing that decision into question.

  Clutch snagged the pack of cigarettes off the dash, shaking one out. “I thought you were trying to quit?” I asked just as Creed barked, “No smoking around Jailbait.”

  He cut his eyes toward us, but tossed the smokes back with a heavy sigh. “Yes, Jailbait, I’m trying to quit which is why I bum them off Creed.”

  “That reminds me,” I turned to Creed. “Why do you buy cigarettes when you don’t smoke them?”

  It was his turn to cut his eyes at me as Clutch started to laugh next to me. “Busted,” he crowed around bouts of laughter.

  “I –” Creed stopped, casting a quick glance at me.

  “What?” I shrugged, unconcerned. “I just noticed you buy them but never actually smoke them. Are you trying to sabotage Clutch’s efforts to quit?” I asked with a grin.

  “Yep,” he answered quickly, nodding. “You caught me.” He jerked a thumb toward Clutch. “He’s a total ass when he tries to quit.”

  “Hell, no. That is not true,” Clutch denied, shaking his head. “Well, the bit about me being an ass when I try to quit is true, but that is not why he buys cigarettes.”

  “Then why?” I asked, puzzled. “If you don’t smoke them, then why bother having them?”

  “So he can fit in,” Clutch sang in a high pitched voice. “Be like all the other boys in the club.”

  Creed pushed my head down toward my knees then proceeded to punch Clutch in the arm, not that it stopped his hysterical laughter.

  “Really?” I couldn’t help my doubtful tone, but when I noticed the red creeping up his cheeks, my mouth dropped open. “Seriously, Creed? You do it to fit in?”

  “Alright. Yes. But,” he stressed, pointing a finger at Clutch. “I started that shit when I was a teenager.” He snorted to himself. “Back when I wanted to be like Cord.”

  “Who didn’t?” Clutch scoffed. “He was the favored son. Johnny’s golden boy. He dated fucking Ashley, for fuck’s sake. We all wanted to be him at one point.”

  “Wait, Cord and Ashley?”

  They exchanged glances above my head before saying in unison, “You know who Ashley is?”

  I shook my head, “No, but Johnny mentioned her name. Sounded like she was important to him.”

  Creed swallowed, “She was.” He glanced down at me. “She was his daughter.”

  “She was around your age when she died,” Clutch mentioned, his arm settling on the seat behind me. “It’s why he didn’t like you.”

  “And why you insisted he’d protect me,” I figured out, glancing at Creed. “What happened to her?”

  “She died,” he said shortly. “And Cord left.”

  I glanced at Clutch whose expression was solemn. “You told me not to mention Cord around Johnny. Is it because of Ashley?”

  “Nah, that one is all on Cord,” Clutch mumbled as he picked at one of his nails.

  “He left. Turned his back on the club and everyone in it,” Creed said bitterly. “He choose to become an outcast.”

  Before I could ask anything more, Creed flipped on the blinker. “I think we’re here,” he said, his tone making it clear he didn’t want to continue the discussion about Cord.

  I nodded mutely, nerves suddenly racing through me now that I was about to meet someone who possibly knew my dad. Creed turned the truck around before parking, giving us an easy exit if needed. He squeezed my hand before helping me out. “Stay behind us until we know what we’re dealing with, okay?”

  I nodded in agreement, my attention on the old mobile home. It was probably older than me, but someone took care of it. Everything was neat, there were even flowers in the pots on the porch. The porch steps creaked under our weight, but held. Creed motioned for me to get behind him as he knocked on the door.

  When no one answered, he knocked again, shouting, “Hello?” My stomach dipped as I considered the possibility they might not even be here. “It’s a’ight, Jailbait, we can wait for him,” Creed reassured me and I gave him a tight smile.

  Clutch jumped off the edge of the porch, the absence of any railing making it easy. “I’ll poke around the back. Maybe they don’t like strangers.”

  “Be careful,” Creed called after him, turning away from the door. A flicker caught my eye, almost like the curtain on the thin door had moved. I edged around him, staring at it hard.

  “Micah? Micah Bradshaw?” Nothing moved inside as Creed hovered next to me. “Johnny sent us.” I glanced at Creed helplessly. I had no idea what Johnny’s last name was. “Mitchell,” he mouthed to my relief. “Johnny Mitchell.”

  The door jerked open, the woman standing there giving me an irritated stare. “I know who Johnny is,” she snapped. “Just like I know who you are,” she told me, her stare straying to Creed right as Clutch leapt onto the porch beside him. “And y’all are Hayes’ boys.”

  I didn’t question how she knew, my attention more focused on the shotgun resting casually in the crook of her arm. Creed angled himself so he stood in front of me, Clutch coming up to close the gap. I now had a wall of muscle blocking me. I squeezed my face between their arms and asked her, “Will you talk to us?”

  She glanced away, her lips almost but not quite cu
rving up, and eventually nodded at me. “You’ve come a long way, Sloan.”

  “You know who I am?” I asked, shocked.

  “You’re Spencer’s girl,” she declared and I nodded. “You have his eyes.”

  “You know who they are too,” I said, pointing to Creed and Clutch.

  “Everybody knew Cash Hayes,” she said, chuckling. “Him and Johnny were thick as thieves. Not hard to recognize his boys.”

  “You’re Micah?” I questioned, before blurting out, “I thought you were a guy.”

  “I used to be,” she answered with a nod, her mouth splitting open in a wide grin when I stared at her in shock. “I’m kidding, Sloan.” She shook her head and waved us inside, “Come on in. I’m sure you didn’t drive all the way up here just to say hi.”

  We settled onto a worn, but comfortable couch as she kicked back in a recliner, propping her shotgun against the wall next to her. She nodded at it. “Never know who might show up. Flying Eagles had a certain reputation in the day.”

  “You were a Flying Eagle?” Clutch asked incredulously. “A woman….back then.”

  “Hard to believe, isn’t it?” She cackled, the sound turning into a raspy smoker’s cough after a second. “There were plenty who thought my being a Flying Eagle is what brought on the curse.”

  “There really was a curse?” I scooted forward, eager to hear more.

  “I honestly don’t know, but it sure seemed like there was.” Micah reached for the cigarettes sitting on the table next to her, shaking one out before offering them to us. I shook my head and so did Creed, but Clutch looked like he wanted to take one. I leaned my head, staring at him until he shook his head no, while Creed tried not to smile. Micah watched us in bemusement, lighting the cigarette and taking a puff. “At first, it seemed like bad luck, when Johnny’s brother, Nix, died.” I felt Creed tense and glanced at him. His expression could have been carved from stone but I didn’t get a chance to ask what was wrong when Micah continued. “Then we lost Chet and Sanchez.” She glanced at me. “We were outlaws. Ran guns, drugs, you name it. Dying young was almost a given.” She flicked her ashes, her face contemplative. “Daddy Mitchell wasn’t taking a chance though. He refused to allow Johnny to join the Eagles. Said losing one son was enough.”