“My… wallet?”
Dart hands it back with his money intact, as I pocket the phone. “Get lost,” I tell him.
Jim wastes no time, though I notice he checks to make sure all his money is still carefully encased in the leather as he goes off, presumably to score for the night.
Chapter Nine
Patsy
I drive home without incident, my hands shaking, knuckles white, as they hold onto the wheel so tightly as I navigate streets I’m only just starting to learn. Stopping at red lights sends fear rushing through me, and I checked I had the locks engaged each time. When I reach my house, I rush inside, not even bothering to scoop up my shopping and bring it along with me.
I pour myself a glass of wine, resisting the urge to gulp it down. I need something to settle my nerves, not to incapacitate me, just in case someone comes to the house and I need to escape.
Then I wait, scared and lonely.
Lost will make contact I’m sure. But until he does, I’m left in limbo, not knowing whether I should try to make plans to disappear tonight. He’d confirmed someone had been following me. What if there were more than one, and undetected, another man had followed me home?
I pace, sip my wine, and think that I’m a middle-aged woman who shouldn’t have to worry about stalkers. When I threw in my lot with Dan, I hadn’t thought through it wasn’t just my daughter I was leaving, but my safe existence carefully cultivated over the years. I should have expected Dan’s past would catch up with him.
But how would they know? Connor Foster is dead and cremated. It’s Dan Forster who’s living with me in San Diego. I can’t blame him. It’s my fault. Why did I break and ring Beth?
When the front door opens and closes, I spin around, quickly filled with relief. As soon as he enters the living room, I’m on my feet, rushing to greet him and throwing myself into my son’s arms.
“What’s up, Mom?” He hugs me for a moment, then gently pries away the fingers gripping him so tightly, pushing me away and holding me at arm’s length.
“Someone followed me today.” The words come out fast and unfiltered.
“Fuck.”
His eyes go wide, then become shuttered with fear. He lets go of my arms and starts to pace, his hand wiping his hair back from his forehead. “Fuck,” he repeats. His feet cease movement when he’s back in front of me. “What, where? Do you mean they followed you here?” Now his gaze goes to the windows covered by the drawn curtains. “Mom, we need to leave.”
Hastily I reassure him, telling him the steps I’d taken, and that Lost had assured me it was safe for me to come home.
“How does Lost know? Was he sure?” Again, his hand brushes through his hair. “Fuck. Someone could know where we are right now.” He turns and paces again, his body vibrating in agitation. Suddenly he stops. “This is all my fault, Mom. Why don’t you go back to Pueblo? It’s me they want, not you. You’ll be safe there. I thought we could make a clean break, but that hasn’t worked, and I don’t want you dragged into my shit.”
I can’t let him own this when it’s down to me. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I was the one who called Beth.” Stupid mistake, but I missed my daughter, and thought what I’d done was safe.
“Mom, this isn’t on you. I took you away from Beth who’s been a better daughter to you than I’ve been a son. Of course you miss her, and I don’t blame you one bit. But perhaps I’m better off on my own. I’ll get in touch with the marshals, see if they can move me again, but you go back to Pueblo.”
I haven’t had him back in my life very long, and I’ve been enjoying getting to know this more mature version of my son. I shake my head. “I don’t want that, Dan. I don’t want to lose you. This time, it would be for good.” How can I let my son go off on his own, knowing I’ll never see him again? He’ll be set up in a new town, hell a different state with a new name. Having only just reconnected with him, I don’t want to lose him for a second time. This experience will make him obey all the rules, he won’t risk picking up a phone. Not knowing whether he’s well and thriving would drive me crazy.
“Tell me again exactly what happened today, Mom.”
I do, for the second time emphasising that I called Lost. I’ve just about reached the end of my repeated story, when I get a call from the man I’ve been speaking about.
“Patsy, I had a talk with that asshole who’s been following you.”
“What did he say?”
“Shit I’ve got to wrap my head around.”
I swallow back my growl of frustration that he’s not telling me anything. Sometimes these bikers keep too much to themselves. I’d found that out in the Colorado club. “Dan wants to contact the marshals, get himself moved again,” I tell him.
There’s a moment’s pause, then, “Is he there? Can I speak to him?”
I pass over the phone, then can only hear one side of the conversation, which seems to involve a few grunts, a mmm hmm and a couple of okays. Dan ends the call.
“Well?” I rise up and down on my heels.
Dan takes in a breath, and his cheeks puff out as he exhales it in a loud sigh. Then his lips press tightly together. “Lost is pretty certain that no one else was involved today, and that we’re still safe to stay where we are. But he is sending a couple of men around. They’ll stay here tonight. It’s just a precaution, but apparently, the man they spoke to isn’t the only one who’s been looking for us. Lost says tomorrow we’re both to go to their compound, and we’ll discuss the next steps. He doesn’t think we should do anything else just yet.”
I spent enough time on the Satan’s Devils compound in Colorado to not worry about the prospect of staying with another chapter, albeit, it will be filled with men I don’t know. Lost seems okay, and I suspect his club members won’t be much different to the ones who rescued both my son and daughter. I trusted the Satan’s Devils once, and I can trust them again.
Dan looks indecisive. “I don’t know what to do, Mom.” His tone and expression make me think of him as a small boy, especially when he grimaces, then admits, “Is it bad to admit that I’m scared? I’m worried that I’ll spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder and worrying that I’ll never be able to put roots down and never trust anyone. I thought coming here would be a fresh start, but Alder’s obviously got a reach far longer than I’d ever imagined.”
For a moment, he’s not a man approaching his twenty-third birthday, he’s a kid who needs his mom. “If I hadn’t called Beth, he’d never have known where to look.”
“San Diego’s a huge fuckin’ city, Mom. We should have been safe. It should have taken him years, not weeks to get a bead on us. We shouldn’t underestimate him. If he’s done it once, he’ll do it again.”
“Oh, Dan.” I take a step closer to him, resting my hands on his arms, and looking up to meet his eyes. “This wasn’t what I expected either. I thought we could get away, start a new life. Maybe I haven’t tried hard enough.”
“It’s different, Mom. I’m running for my life, having to start all over again to stay alive. You? You’ve got everything to live for back in Pueblo. It was always going to be hard; I don’t think either of us realised how much it would take.”
He’s right. He’s got a reason to go into hiding, I don’t. I can’t deny it will be hard to resist the temptation and end up messing everything up again. I can’t close my eyes without sending up a prayer that Beth’s safe and happy. I’ll never stop worrying about her. But Dan? I’d worry about him, too, if I didn’t know where he was. At least he’s driven by the need to keep his head under the radar. I can’t be the reason why he’s found and killed.
It’s that fear that leads me to tell him, “I don’t want to lose you again, Dan, but maybe it’s best if you go it alone. Two of us stick out much more than one young man. Maybe you’d have more of a chance if you were on your own.”
There’s so much hurt in his eyes as he looks at me—pain and regret for the things that he did in the past. For once
I’d chosen him over Beth, and now I am being asked to remake that choice.
I hear the sound of a car pulling up outside the house and the engine stops. Wide-eyed, I stare at Dan in horror as he goes to the window and looks out.
Then my phone pings with a text.
Lost: Curtis and Dusty are outside. They’re my men.
“It’s Lost,” I tell Dan. “It’s the men he promised he’d send.”
Before Dan goes to open the door, he spares me a look, accompanied by the words, “This is what our life will look like from now on. Unless we, or I on my own, move to another location, this is a taste of what it will be like. Fuckin’ jumping every time someone knocks on the door. Never knowing if they’re friend or foe.”
It’s a chilling thought. Living in fear is not something I ever expected nor wanted to do, or what I want for my son. I want to spend my life designing clothes, not hiding out from a drug lord or whatever the proper term is to describe Alder now.
Of course my life would be perfect had I not had to make any choice at all and could have both my son and my daughter close. If only their father hadn’t been the man that he was. If I’d understood Dan better when he’d been in his teens, he’d never have sought out his dad. So many ifs that don’t serve to make anything better, the past cannot be rewritten now.
“I’m Dusty.” The strange voice makes me jump, and I turn to acknowledge the man who walks in. He’s got shoulder-length blond shaggy hair, and a short beard, but it’s his piercing blue eyes that catch my attention. He’s tall, slim built, but looks strong. “Curtis.” As he introduces his companion with just the one word, the big black man beside him raises his chin toward me. He looks like he could be in the military—tall, shoulders held up, back ramrod straight.
Dusty continues, “I’ll stay here tonight, inside. Curtis will be patrolling the perimeter. Both of us will be watching out all night.”
“Is that necessary?” I ask. My sympathetic eyes land on the man who seems to have been given a bum job. Sure, it’s not cold, but waiting outside the house all night sounds like it will be pretty boring. Or, hopefully.
“Curtis is a prospect who wants his patch.” Dusty raises an eyebrow at the man beside him who sends a nod and an easy smile my way, then disappears out the doorway.
“This the couch?” Dusty gives the far-too-short-for-his-body piece of furniture a disdainful look.
“We moved in here and it was already furnished. No choice of mine.” I wonder why I’m offering what sounds like an apology. “There is a spare bedroom—”
“I’m not here to sleep, woman,” he snaps. “Fuckin’ poor bodyguard I’d make if I were napping on the job. The couch will do fine for me.”
“There’s beer in the fridge, man,” Dan offers.
“Oh, and cookies in the cupboard.” I bite my lip. “There’s not much else I’m afraid.” I’ve found teenagers may grow into men but that doesn’t mean they lose their habits of emptying the fridge and pantry of all its contents. The only stuff left are things that need cooking.
“Not here to sleep or to eat, but a beer would be good. Thanks.” Dusty tilts his head as though to question where he should be heading. Dan interprets his unspoken query and leads him into the kitchen.
I wonder whether I should offer to take one out to the prospect, but then decide they can sort themselves out. When Dan comes back into the room, he’s already deep in conversation with Dusty. A wave of exhaustion comes over me. I’ve been on edge since noticing I’d picked up a stalker, but Lost taking it seriously, stopping the man and now sending Dusty and Curtis to watch over us has taken the burden from me. I realise I’m starting to crash as the adrenaline fades away. I become aware that my head is pounding, and I want nothing more than to rest it on a pillow.
Interrupting their conversation briefly, I tell them I’m going to bed, then with heavy feeling limbs go through my normal nighttime routine. When at last I slide under the covers, my brain won’t switch off, going over and over the events of the evening, and again more what-ifs come to mind.
What if I hadn’t been so vigilant? What if I hadn’t noticed the man? It had been Lost’s insistence on me keeping aware of my surroundings that had put my senses on high alert. Had I not been pre-warned, I might not have taken so much notice of my surroundings nor the people around. If I hadn’t been looking, I probably wouldn’t have realised I was seeing the same man over and over again. If I’d ignored my first thought that it was a coincidence and I was overreacting, I’d never have called for help.
Even at the time I thought I was imagining things, my palms had become sweaty and my nape had tingled when I’d seen him yet again, and the only thought in my head was to speak to Lost.
From Lost’s reaction, I was right to, and as it turned out, I hadn’t been seeing things that weren’t there. If I had, there wouldn’t be two Satan’s Devils protecting the house right now.
My brain hasn’t got the message that I’m tired. Despite the comfort of the bed, instead of letting me sleep, it’s whirring with worry instead.
Is Dan right? Should he move on? Should I go with him? What happens if I return to Pueblo? Why had I made contact with Beth? The most important and mystifying of them all, why was I followed today and by whom? It had to be someone working for Alder, but why? Does he have proof Dan’s alive? It would be him he’d be after, not me. He was using me to lead him to Dan.
Could someone else be targeting me for God knows what reason?
I can’t think who. No, it has to be Alder. But surely, finding me in that mall must have been coincidence. When I’d left the house, even I didn’t really have a destination in mind. I’d gone out after Dan left for work as these four walls were becoming oppressive and decided to while away a few hours doing some late afternoon shopping instead. It was even a mall I hadn’t been to before, not a haunt I often frequent.
I’m scared how easily I’d been found and can’t think how anyone knew how to locate me.
Finally, I must drop off as I wake to the sounds of banging, clattering and loud voices. There’s also the aroma of bacon coming through my bedroom door. Feeling like death warmed over, I sit, rub tired bleary eyes, then reach for my robe. One thing about being a woman in my mid-fifties, I don’t have to give a damn about doing much more than running a brush through my bed hair. I’ve a house full of young men, no one I need to impress. No one who’s going to care if I’m wearing makeup or not.
Sliding my feet into my worn, comfy slippers—the ones with the cat’s face on them, complete with ears and whiskers, which Dan had bought me out of his first wages as a joke—I open the door and step out.
When I enter the kitchen, I immediately want to make a retreat, hastily rethinking my decision not to hide that I look like I’ve just fallen out of bed when my eyes fall on the one man I didn’t expect to see flipping bacon on the stove. Lost.
Jeez. I don’t know exactly how old he is. The grey in his hair suggests he has to be middle-aged, but the view he’s presenting with his back to me is more mouth-watering than what he’s cooking. The way his ass flexes as he moves this way and that has even my what I thought were non-existent hormones running rampant.
“Morning, Mom.” Dan nods as he catches sight of me, showing no reaction at all. Well, he’s my son and is used to my morning apparel.
Dusty eyes me up, then down, then gives me a polite, “Hi, Patsy. Sleep well?” as if I’m no interest to him one way or another.
Lost though. Lost turns and looks straight at me. When his eyes peruse my body, parts of me come alive which I’d thought dead. I mean, there’s a handsome man in my kitchen, cooking breakfast at my stove. I feel my cheeks glow red under his examination and a tingling starts inside me as his eyes leave my face, travel down my body then fall on my feet covered by my favourite slippers. It’s then the bastard smirks. “Nice.” He nods downward.
Suppressing the instinct to run back to my room and dress more appropriately in my tightest jeans and best fitting top,
I pull my pink fluffy robe tighter around me, and ask through gritted teeth, “Want some help?”
“Nah, I got it. You just take a seat. Dust, why don’t you get our host some coffee?”
Host? Pretty damn sure with that title, I should be the one cooking. But I sit, still half asleep, wondering what rabbit hole I’ve fallen into as Lost continues to work the stove. As he moves his attention between one pan and another, I begrudgingly admit, he actually seems to know what he’s doing.
When Lost serves up the food, Dusty takes two loaded plates and disappears out of the room leaving just the three of us.
Lost must have raided my fridge and freezer I realise when a heaped plate of bacon, eggs and hash browns is placed in front of me. I frown down at it.
“Is everything okay?” Lost asks, sounding concerned. “Not the way you like it, babe?”
“No,” I refute fast. “It looks too good. I can’t remember a time a man ever cooked for me.” I don’t think anyone ever has since I was a kid. My ex never did.
“What?” Lost fills his own plate, then comes and sits beside me. “Your son never brought you breakfast in bed?”
“I didn’t get the cooking gene,” Dan laughs. “But I do make a mean piece of toast.”
“Beth would spoil me,” I tell them, a pang of loss shooting through me. We’d prepare almost all our meals together, working as a team, each moving around the other with practiced ease, never getting in each other’s way, so familiar with what we were doing. I’d barely even had to give her instruction, she’d always second-guess me and have something chopped or taken out of the oven when it was ready.
“You miss her a lot.” Lost is eyeing me thoughtfully.
I grimace, seeing the look of regret on Dan’s face. “I can’t not,” I admit. “But I’ve got to put that behind me. She had me for twenty-seven years, I’m here for Dan now.” I decide continuing with this subject is going to see me in tears, so I change it. “What are you doing here so early, Lost? Is it about what happened yesterday? I thought you wanted Dan and I to come to meet you?”
Being Lost: Satan's Devils MC San Diego #1 Page 10