Motorcycles.
Lots and lots of them, all blocking the one and only exit. All awfully close to Finn’s truck. There was no escaping without being seen. No way to avoid them. I had to assume that was intentional.
“Fish.”
“I see them.” He tugged his phone out of his pocket and tapped on the screen for a few seconds before putting the device away. Then, without asking, he grabbed my hand, gripping me tightly as he pulled me into his side. “Stay with me, Jinx.”
As if I would leave him to face these guys alone.
“Finn Kennard,” one of the guys toward the middle yelled. Not the leader—he would have been dead center on a ride. I couldn’t see their colors yet—couldn’t tell what group they were from—but all clubs worked the same. Hierarchy within the positions, respecting those above you and following the leader of the pack. Still, the spot in the lineup was one of power. Not a good sign if he knew Finn. “Long time no see, man.”
“Too bad we couldn’t keep it that way. Seen Coyote lately?” The anger in Finn’s voice, the strength, took me by surprise. This wasn’t the sweet guy who’d taken me out for ice cream. This was the man who’d beat back an addiction to drugs and survived a stint in prison. A side of his personality I doubted he let out very often. And he sounded pissed as hell.
The biker, on the other hand, was obviously playing a little cat-and-mouse game. “Coyote’s been out of touch, man. I know you had a little spat with him, but we had a good partnership all those years ago. So what, because of that asshole, we can’t be friends anymore?”
“I’m not interested in friendships right now, Monk. Not unless you can tell me where Coyote is.”
“Like I said—I don’t know where he’s at. Now, if you were still a customer …” The guy—road name Monk, apparently—shrugged, letting that unspoken offer hang there. Giving Finn the tease of getting whatever information he was seeking if only he’d play ball. Finn didn’t respond, though, which was good. These men had no honor and wouldn’t come through on such a thing. I knew that from experience.
Monk finally looked away from Finn, giving me a once-over instead. “How you doing, sweetheart?”
I hated him already. “Just peachy.” I squeezed Finn’s hand tighter. “But I’m getting tired. We’d better get going.”
“Back to The Jury Room?” Monk grinned, even though I did my best to keep from reacting to his words. To the fact that he knew such things about Finn and me. “Yeah, honey. We know where Finn here works. Only a dumbass amateur shows up in town without doing research first.”
I never heard a step, not a single scratch of a shoe on pavement, but suddenly Deacon slipped in next to me, almost blocking my view of the bikers. And he looked pissed as hell.
“Then it sure seems like you’ve got some dumbass amateurs on your team.”
Parris walked up beside the older former soldier, the two forming a wall of muscle and male bravado between me and the bikers. Finn joined right in with them, making sure to hang on to my hand as he blocked me. Keeping me tight to his back. Obscuring most of my view. Most…but not all.
Monk grinned in a smirk-like sort of way. “The Green Beret to the rescue. I hadn’t been expecting to meet you so soon, Deacon Manns, but I can’t say I’m unprepared. I’ve got a few Special Forces soldiers on my team as well.”
“If they’re riding with the likes of the Soul Suckers, they’re not Special Forces. Maybe they’re yours, Parris. Got some chump-ass ex-Marines in that club?”
Just as I would have expected, Parris grumbled, “Once a Marine, always a Marine. There’s no ex about it, but if anyone was stupid enough to come rolling up into Justice unannounced like this, they’re not Marines. No matter what you grunts like to say, we’re not all dumb jocks.”
Deacon coughed a harsh sort of laugh. “These guys aren’t proving that to me.”
“Nope. Sure not.”
“You’re wearing colors, son,” Monk said, eyeing Parris hard. Staring intentionally at the Black Angels vest he wore. “Shouldn’t you be on this side of the lot?”
“We may all ride, but you’re not my crew. I’ll stick to this side.”
“See? That’s the problem with other clubs. They accept this sort of behavior.” Monk sat back, looking almost lethal as he glared at Parris. “Us Soul Suckers, we don’t take kindly to traitors.”
But Parris didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. “And I don’t take kindly to threats. Neither does my boss.”
Monk glanced to his left, as if looking for some sort of approval. As if thrown off by Parris’ reply. “And who would that be?”
“The big prez. I work directly for the man at the top of the national club and answer to no one else. And that’s all I’m giving you.” Parris grabbed my arm as he passed behind the other guys, giving me a rough push. Forcing me backward and away from Finn. “I think it’s about time to call this meeting of the mindless over, don’t you, Deacon?”
But Finn had other ideas. “They know Coyote.”
Deacon stood firm and strong, not saying anything. Eyeing the men across the lot with no emotion on his face but an aura of malice about him. Ready to fight. Ready to kill. The moment lasted far longer than I’d expected, the tension increasing like humidity before a storm. Pressing in and making it harder to breathe with every second. No one moved; it seemed as if no one even dared to breathe.
But then Deacon laughed, breaking the moment in a casual sort of way that belied what had just happened. “Yeah, I think it’s about time to call it a night, boys.”
Finn whipped in his direction. “Deacon—”
“We end it. For now.” He raised an eyebrow at Finn, who seemed even more pissed than earlier. Whoever this Coyote guy was, Finn wanted to find him.
The bikers, meanwhile, all looked to one man—a big, mean-looking guy on the end. A position of a rookie rider, yet he didn’t look like any rookie I’d ever seen. He looked like a man trying to go unnoticed. A leader in hiding. Which was dangerous.
The leader—because there was no way he wasn’t the one calling the shots—gave a single chin nod. “Think that might be a good idea. We just rolled into town. Need to find a place to hole up, but I’ve heard there’s only one motel in Justice.”
“Aye,” Deacon said. “But we’re all full. Might want to keep on riding to Rock Falls. There’re a few no-tell-motels out that way.”
He got another nod for the effort. “I figured as much. C’mon, boys. Let’s leave these guys to their plans. Good folk aren’t usually out this late, after all.”
Message received—we were good, and they were the big, bad wolves at our doors. Typical posturing, but still a warning to remember.
We stood in a half circle, watching as the bikers peeled off and headed for the highway. I inspected each one, cataloging their features. Making sure I would recognize them if I ran into them again.
It was on the third to the last that a biker took any interest in me. The dark-haired man stared back hard, eyeing me with a familiarity that made my blood run cold. I knew those eyes, the scar on his jaw, the way his chin jutted out in a hard square. Knew the roughness of his hands too. The cruelty behind them.
If there hadn’t been a literal blockade of masculinity in front of me, I might have started shaking. Instead, I inched closer. Not to Parris or even to my new boss, Deacon. No, I skipped the military men and moved myself closer to Finn. He leaned into me, gripping my hand in his. Anchoring me as the man finally stopped looking and followed his brothers.
We stood in the lingering silence, not talking. Not moving. Likely each dealing with whatever residual feelings we had after we’d faced that threat. At least, that was what I did—tried to cope with the fear that man being anywhere near me instilled. No way was his showing up here a coincidence.
It wasn’t until the taillights had all faded into the distance that anyone broke the silence.
Parris took that honor, focusing his obvious anger on Finn. “You put this girl in that sort
of danger again, and I’ll slit your fucking throat, Kennard or not.”
Deacon spat out a quiet, “Parris—”
“Understood,” Finn interrupted. Cutting off his friend and boss. Letting go of my hand and not even bothering to give me a glance before promising, “It won’t happen again.”
Why those words hurt so much, I didn’t want to think about. Why Finn not anchoring me to him anymore hurt more, I refused to ponder. Good thing the guys didn’t give me a chance.
“You said a hundred bikers would come,” Deacon said, turning on Parris. “That wasn’t a hundred.”
Parris looked ready to kill. “They weren’t local either. Those were Soul Suckers from Vegas—two had patches of blackjack chips.”
I could have confirmed one of their identities. I didn’t, though.
“So, the rest are still coming,” Deacon said, making the words a statement and not a question. Because we all knew more would come. This was only the beginning.
Parris confirmed my thoughts with a single word. “Yup.”
Deacon huffed and ran a hand over the top of his head. “How soon?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I’ll find out.” Parris nodded at me. “Let’s go, Jinx.”
Finn glanced my way but said nothing. Letting Parris make the decisions on my behalf.
I wasn’t down for that. “Maybe I don’t want to go with you.”
Apparently, my opinion on the subject didn’t matter. At least, not to Parris. “Too damn bad. You shouldn’t have left the motel to begin with.”
“I’m not a prisoner.”
“You really want to push me on this?”
No. I didn’t. I knew how demanding he could be, knew how much of a bastard he was. This fight didn’t matter enough to me to continue it.
My past did, though.
Specifically, my past with the biker who had definitely recognized me. Who had once lived in the same house with me. Who had shared a bed with my mom.
The one I believed likely had something to do with her disappearance.
The one I definitely needed to stay the hell away from.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
But Finn had other ideas. “I’ll take her.”
Parris froze, looking hard at the man standing up to him. “You sure you want to do that?”
“Absolutely. I’ll get her back to the motel safely.” Finn didn’t flinch when Parris stepped into his space, a fact that made my heart stutter just a little bit. Maybe letting go of my hand wasn’t as big of a deal as I’d thought. Maybe I should stop jumping to conclusions.
Maybe I should cut it with the maybes.
“Good,” Deacon said, patting me on the shoulder and pushing me closer to Finn in a casual yet demanding sort of way. “Because Parris and I have a few things to discuss.”
Such as how to deal with a band of bikers because running away wasn’t an option.
At least not for the men of Justice.
Or so it seemed.
Chapter Five
FINN
“You don’t have to do this.”
Third time. That was the third time Jinx had told me I didn’t have to take her back to the motel, that I didn’t have to stay with her until Deacon and Parris made it back from following the bikers out of town, that I didn’t have to protect her. Good thing I had a hard time following orders.
“I’m doing this, so how about we stop arguing about that fact.”
She crossed her arms and gave me the meanest glare she could, which reminded me of some sort of angry kitten because she was just so cute. “Fine.”
I might not have had much dating experience, but I had a sister. Any woman who said fine in that tone was never fine. Not even close to fine. She was the antithesis of fine.
I leaned back against the wall, keeping my eyes on the door and my mouth shut as Jinx paced and mumbled to herself. I thought I heard her say she could take care of herself. I definitely heard her say stupid man.
Angry. Fucking. Kitten.
Thankfully, I was saved from any further insults and language booby traps by a knock at the door. Jinx jumped and spun my way, looking more nervous than I’d seen her. I had an urge to hug her, to wrap her in my arms and hang on. Instead, I lifted my finger to my lips to indicate we should stay quiet then snuck over to the window to peek outside. Deacon stood in the light outside the motel room, looking anxious and wary as he kept his eyes on the parking lot.
“It’s Deac.”
“Did he bring beer?”
Funny chick. “No. Do you need one?”
“Maybe. Open the door, Finn.”
So maybe I was okay at following some orders. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Hey, Finn,” Deacon said once the door was open. He glanced over my shoulder into the room. “Everything okay here?”
“Just peachy,” Jinx said, sounding more than a little irritated.
Deacon’s mouth lifted just slightly, and one eyebrow joined it on that higher plane. That eyebrow spoke volumes. It begged the question what’s up with her.
“It’s fine,” I said, stressing the word to indicate just how not fine things were. “Jinx is dealing with a sugar crash.”
“Am not.” She pushed past me. “I’m not a child. I don’t need a babysitter.”
Babysitter? That was how she saw me now?
Deacon looked almost as irritated as I felt, though he hid it well. “He’s not a babysitter, Jinx. He’s a guard.”
“I don’t need one of those either.”
“Well good, because I want Finn to come talk with Parris and me. We’ll leave you alone like you want.”
“Good.” Jinx sounded tough but looked a little pale. A little more afraid than she would ever admit. Tough little kitten.
Unable to leave without clearing one thing up, I leaned close so I could whisper in her ear. “Babysitter? Really? And here I thought I was just being a friend and keeping you company. My mistake.”
Her face fell, but I didn’t stick around for an answer. I didn’t need to hear an apology from her…or not hear one. I’d give her a little time to settle down, to find her way to a real fine instead of a not-fine-at-all fine. Maybe then we could have an actual chat. One could dream.
I followed Deacon across the parking lot, shivering the entire fucking way. The temperature had dropped as the hours had passed, and dawn was still far enough away to know it would only get colder. I should have left an extra blanket with Jinx.
Too much—quit trying to do too much. She’d ask for a blanket if she needed one.
I quickened my steps and rushed into The Jury Room to get out of the cold. Forgetting about Jinx all alone in that motel room along the way.
Okay, not forgetting at all. Just tucking those thoughts away. For the moment.
Parris sat at the bar, shoulders up and back stiff. He looked ready to explode. At me, apparently. “What the fuck was Jinx doing at the truck stop?”
Easy enough to answer. “She wanted ice cream.”
Parris blinked, then frowned. “She what?”
“She wanted ice cream. I took her to get some ice cream.”
“At the truck stop.”
“There aren’t exactly a lot of options out this way at two thirty in the morning. The only other one was taking her back to my place, and that didn’t seem like a good idea.”
“No, it wasn’t. Though neither was taking her out in public. Those guys could have recognized her.”
“They seemed to have recognized me instead.”
His glare sharpened. “Want to talk about why that is?”
I glanced at Deacon. He didn’t flinch, didn’t issue a single tell. He knew more about my time away than anyone, so if he wasn’t stopping me from telling Parris anything, I had to believe the guy was trustworthy. To a point.
“I’m a former addict,” I said, hating that term. Hating the past tense of it. Once an addict, always an addict…just like the Marines. “I bought from a couple Soul Suckers for a while.”
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Parris didn’t seem surprised by that news. “Meth?”
“Yeah. Spent a few years inside because of it. But that gave me time to get good and clean, so it wasn’t for nothing.”
“They’ll use that against you.”
My drug addiction. The fact that it never truly lets go of anyone. The weakness that everyone knew was inside of me. “I know.”
For once, Parris looked almost…concerned. “You sure you’re strong enough to handle that?”
This time, it was Deacon who answered. “He’s strong enough.”
“Good, because we don’t have a lot of options here. Alder is all Mr. Wedding Bliss, Gage is attached at the hip to his woman, and Bishop is off in Vegas playing bodyguard to the psychic. It’s just the three of us to deal with this shit right now.”
“You got a plan?” Deacon asked.
Parris picked up a glass of what looked like beer and took a pull before answering. “We go on the offensive against the Soul Suckers.”
Well, damn. I hadn’t been expecting that option. “You sure that’s the best idea?”
Parris stared me down hard. “It’s the only language these fuckers understand. Violence and aggression. If we don’t take them out, they’ll come for us. There are two clubs in town—my crew, the Black Angels, and the Soul Suckers. I can deal with my guys, try to work from the inside to keep them out of Justice until we can handle the others. But even without my team backing them up, those fucking Soul Suckers outnumber us. They’ll win just about any war they start. We can’t give them that advantage.”
“I’m not military,” I said, not for the first time feeling the shadows my older brothers and their friends threw. “I’m not trained like you guys.”
Parris just shook his head. “You survived time in prison and made it out alive. You’ll do fine.”
Okay then. “Then let’s do this.”
“We need to verify where they’re staying,” Parris said, looking to Deacon.
My boss shrugged. “There’s only one place big enough around here. I’ll double-check, but my money’s on one of the campgrounds in Rock Falls. Most have at least a few cabins and lots of open space for campers. It’s too cold for most tent camping, but not too bad for an RV.”
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