“The Black Angels are staying at one just over the river. There’re no Soul Suckers there, though.”
“There are a few different camps. Maybe they’re at one of the other ones.”
“Confirm it. I don’t want to come rolling up to find Jim from Accounting on vacation with his family, you know?”
Deacon nodded once. “No worries. It’ll be checked.”
“Good.” Parris took another long drink from his beer before settling his gaze back on me. “Do you think they recognized Jinx?”
Deacon jumped in before I could answer. “Should they have?”
Parris paused—a subtle, almost invisible hold before he responded, but it was there. Noticeable to me. I’d had to study people in prison to make sure I didn’t end up on the wrong side of some arbitrary line. Had been forced to read people the way others read books. That tell didn’t just whisper, it screamed. His lack of trust and things he didn’t want us to know telegraphed themselves around the room in a split second.
Yeah, the bikers would recognize Jinx. Why, I had no idea. But I’d find out. I had to.
“No,” Parris said, likely lying to us. “But she’s been around the clubs a long time, and a few of them were from her town. Someone could.”
Deacon shrugged. “So, we keep her out of the spotlight.”
“Agreed,” I said. But I didn’t agree. Not yet, not without knowing all the facts. Because Parris definitely seemed worried that those guys would recognize Jinx. Thinking back over the interaction at the truck stop, Jinx had stiffened up toward the end. One guy—he’d stared at her. I’d assumed he’d been trying to intimidate her for some reason, but maybe not. Maybe he’d recognized her as Parris feared. And maybe, just maybe, she’d recognized him too.
And not said anything about it to me or the guys.
That seemed like trouble for sure. A weakness in our tenuous little bubble of a team.
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked, unable to take my mind off of Jinx. Wanting this session of the testosterone carriers to end so I could make sure she was okay.
Parris ran a hand over his shorn head. “It’s on us to fix this. The three of us.”
“Plus Jinx.”
“I want her out of it,” he said, tapping his fingers on the bar top. “She’s been through enough. Besides, if they realize who she is, we’ll have more trouble than we’re ready for.”
I kept my mouth shut, not revealing she’d likely already been recognized. Not yet at least. I’d tell them soon—maybe once I worked out what the situation was. With her. For her.
“When do we hit?” Deacon asked.
“Maybe a week. We need some supplies, verification of where they’re staying, and a solid plan. That takes time.”
“You’re not worried about them hitting us first?” I asked.
Parris shook his head. “These guys are here to intimidate us. Don’t get me wrong, they’ll burn the whole town down if they feel the need. But first, they’ll play a little cat and mouse.”
“So, we let them,” Deacon said, looking like a man with a plan. “Hide your children, hide your wives, deal with the jabs. Then cut the legs out from under them.”
“Exactly.”
Which was all fine and good, except for one thing. “Where will Jinx hide?”
Deacon looked my way. “We’ll have her stay with Alder and Shye.”
“Without telling him the real reason why?” My brother wouldn’t like that. He was also too smart to fall for it. “You know there’ll be blowback if you aren’t up front about why Jinx is there.”
That might have been the first flicker of doubt I’d ever seen from Parris. “I’ll take the hit on the decision, but it’s the only way to keep her out of harm’s way.”
It wasn’t, so I looked to my boss. “What about bringing Bishop or Gage in with us? Letting them watch over Jinx.”
“It’s decided,” Parris said, interrupting whatever Deacon might have had for an answer. “They’re not reliable right now because they’ve got pussy on the brain. This mission is on us, and I’m not bringing in extra people just because Jinx might find herself in trouble again. I wouldn’t lead us on this mission if I didn’t think we’d come out okay. That includes her.”
That didn’t prioritize her, though. Parris’ plan might as well have been bare minimum when it came to Jinx. She needed better. Deserved it, too. But there wasn’t much I could do or say right then. Not without knowing more about the situation, about her past and present. About her in general. Bishop and Gage had pussy on the brain, and I had Jinx distracting me, but I couldn’t admit it. Instead, I’d buckle down. Focus on what could be done, what needed to happen, and how to save the town I’d grown up in while learning everything I could about the girl. Easy enough, right?
Deacon looked almost excited—ever the mission planner. “So, what do we need to do first?”
Two hours and a ton of ginger ale later, we had a plan laid out. One where Deacon stalked the enemy, cutting them down one by one. Where Parris rode in like a man possessed and took them on headfirst. One where I was relegated to keeping watch and making sure none of the bikers slipped away. My position as lookout stung, but I understood it. I wasn’t military like they were—I didn’t have the experience with the weapons and tactical maneuvers the way they did. I was basically backup.
I never talked much about my time in prison, so most people didn’t understand the lengths a man would go to survive in there. The deals and negotiations, the delicate balance of acting tough and not attracting the sort of attention that made people want to take you down to prove they were tougher. I had a feeling those skills would come in handy with this mission, though I might not get the chance to use them.
Story of my life.
“We good?” Deacon asked as we wrapped things up on the plan. “I’ve got a woman in my bed that I’d like to get back to.”
“You hadn’t left too much before us,” I said, working out the timeline in my head. “That’s a quick date to end up in bed together.”
“Being in bed together was the date.” He winked my way. “Sometimes, the whole wine them, dine them thing is simply not necessary.”
I snorted a laugh. “My sister would call you a pig for that comment. Then she’d likely rip your balls off.”
“I’ve never met the fairer Kennard, though she sounds quite pleasant.”
Parris choked on his beer. “Getting your balls ripped off sounds pleasant?”
“I’m more concerned about him calling Lainie fairer. She’s in no way fair—unless you count her hair color. Word to the wise—don’t let the blond locks fool you. She’s a bitch on wheels, and she’s proud of it.”
“Well hell, son,” Parris said, leaning back on his stool, elbow resting on the bar. “I might want to meet this ball-ripping, blond hellcat.”
Deacon just laughed. “Get in line, bud. I’ve known Alder Kennard for seventeen years, and I’ve never met the woman.”
“And I doubt you ever will. At least not unless it’s on her terms,” I said before standing up and stretching. Damn, those chairs needed some padding. “If we’re done here, I want to go check on Jinx to make sure she’s okay before heading home.”
“I’m sure she’s fine, kid,” Parris said, looking as if he wasn’t unseating his stool just yet.
“Maybe she is, but if I were in her position, I’d appreciate someone checking on me.” I nodded to Deacon. “Need anything, boss?”
“No, sir. You go on then and get yourself home. Text me if you run into any problems.”
“I will. G’night.”
I hurried out of the bar, needing to get away from them. To recenter myself a little. Every muscle in my body itched to jump in my truck and go on home, to seek the warmth of my shower and then my bed, but I headed for the motel instead. Wanting to make sure Jinx was okay.
Needing to figure out why I’d just kept info from Parris and Deacon in some instinctual desire to protect her.
Chapter S
ix
JINX
Motel rooms were sucky places to need to pace. There was never a good distance between any obstructions, so pacing became more akin to spinning, which made me dizzy, which cut my pacing time into odd little chunks of walking, spinning, then holding my head as the world righted itself once more. My back burned from all the pacing, the slashes Pistol had laid on me healing painfully. At least they’d stopped weeping, stopped soaking my shirts and sheets with grossness I had trouble hiding. They tugged, though. A constant reminder that I wasn’t free. Never would be.
A foreshadowing of what was to come.
And still, the clock ticked on. Most people—good people—were fast asleep in their beds. Me? I was busy stumbling around a motel room with the curtains wide open and the door cracked just enough so I could keep an eye on the parking lot. Cold, be damned.
With every pass of my path around the room, I did my best not to trip over my beds. I had two to choose from, and yet neither interested me in any way other than a place to rest and make the world stop spinning around me. I was far more worried about what was happening over in the bar and why Parris had refused to let me join him there. Because that was totally a Parris thing to do, not a Finn or a Deacon one. Only Parris would undermine my value like that, as if I weren’t an asset. As if I were some delicate petal who needed protection.
“I’ll give them delicate,” I said as I rose to my feet to resume my pacing pattern. “I’ll give them my delicate foot right up their asses.”
“Sounds a bit on the painful side for me.”
I spun, my heart jumping in my chest at the voice coming out of nowhere. Pounding even harder when I saw the man it belonged to. Finn Kennard stood in the doorway to my room, not entering. Just…leaning. Watching. Looking all sorts of kind and sexy and…I needed to stop that train of thought right there.
“It’s cold out there.”
He nodded. “Yeah, it is. Can I come in?”
My entire body pulsed at the thought. “Of course.”
He stepped in a little more, closing the door behind him. Blocking out the cold air that had permeated my space. “Why’d you have the door open?”
“To keep an eye on you three. Meeting over?”
He shrugged, seemingly uninterested in the subject. “Mostly. I have a feeling Parris and Deacon will hammer out a few more details. The sort us non-military folk don’t know enough to chime in on.”
That sounded a lot like irritation. “So, I’m kicked out for not having a penis, and you’re kicked out for not having an old uniform in your closet.”
Finn considered me for a long moment before he said, “Simplistic, but it works. Yeah.”
Silence fell between us, and the space neither of us occupied seemed to grow. Most men barged right into my life and took over—their world, their rules. Finn stood just inside the door, obviously interested in coming to see what I was up to, but refusing to infiltrate my space. Having asked permission to even cross the threshold. I had no idea how to take that.
“What would you have done if the door had been closed?” I asked, mentally trying to put the pieces of this man together.
He frowned. “What door?”
“That one. Mine. My motel room door. I’d left it open to be able to know what was going on outside, so what would you have done if it had been closed?”
“Your light was on.”
It was my turn to frown. “Huh?”
“Your light”—he indicated the table lamp in front of the window—“it was on. I could see you walking around the room because of the light, so I came to make sure you were okay after tonight. If your door had been closed, I’d likely have knocked. But if I hadn’t seen your light on, I wouldn’t have stopped by.”
“Why not?”
“Because I would have assumed you’d been sleeping. Do you sleep with the lights on?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Neither do I, and no one likes being woken up in the middle of the night. So yeah, if the door had been closed, I’d have knocked, unless the light had been off. Then I’d have left you alone.”
He wouldn’t have just barged in. How novel. “I’m glad I had the light on.”
“Me too.”
“You can come in farther, you know. You don’t have to hold up the door.”
His eyes darted around the room, landing back on me. “I didn’t want to intrude.”
As if. “Come on in and quit being so polite. Parris intrudes all the time, but I haven’t put my foot up his ass.” I gave Finn a grin over my shoulder. “Yet.”
“Well, let me know when you decide to make that a reality instead of just a possibility. I might enjoy the show.”
“Deal.” I sat on the bed farthest from the door as Finn took a seat on the other, both of us facing one another. There were a couple of feet between us, yet I could practically feel the warmth coming off him. Or maybe that was simply a “being around Finn” thing.
“How’d you know that guy?”
The subject change knocked the warmth right out of the room and chilled my blood to the point of goose bumps rising along my arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, you do.” He sighed and sat back, resting his weight on his outstretched arms behind him. “You knew those men.”
Never let it be said that Finn Kennard wasn’t observant. “I knew one of them.”
“How? I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s not from Sunday school.”
How I could almost laugh during this interrogation was beyond me, but I did. I almost laughed. “Never went to Sunday school. I knew the guy from my time with the Soul Suckers.”
He sat up straight, his brow furrowing hard. “You rode with the Soul Suckers?”
This time, I really did laugh. Out loud. Hell, I practically cackled. “Dear, sweet Fish. You have no idea how clubs run, do you?”
“Not really, no.”
“Well, let me be clear about a woman’s place in them, then—there aren’t a lot of clubs that let females ride.”
He scowled, likely at the fact that I’d called out the sexism of the clubs. Or at least, I assumed that was the reason. “Why not?”
“We’re the weaker sex.”
It was his turn to laugh, though the weight of the sarcasm in his chuckle was strong enough to practically have a physical presence. “If women are the weaker sex, then men must be useless.”
I could have kissed him, if that was something I’d wanted to do. But it wasn’t, or at least it shouldn’t be, so I didn’t. Focus, Jinx. “You said it, not me.”
“So, if you didn’t ride, why were you there? You don’t look like the sort of person who’d be club pussy.”
The word “pussy” coming from those lips should have been obscene. It should not have sent a tingle up my spine. “Really, Fish? Club pussy… Pulling out the MC terms, are we?”
The man had said pussy like he used that word on a daily basis, but he flushed when I said it. He also stumbled over his words a bit as he said, “I know a little about the clubs.”
“How?”
“What?”
“How do you know a little? Big SOA fan, are you?”
His brow dropped, an almost confused expression forming on his face. “What’s SOA?”
Color me shocked. “Sons of Anarchy.”
He stared blankly, as if the title of the show meant nothing to him.
I finally had to ask, “Do you not watch TV?”
“No. I don’t own one.”
I blinked. Again. Three times. “You don’t even own one?”
“Deacon always has one on at the bar, so by the time I get home, I’ve had enough of the noise.” He shrugged, all casual and calm, even as I could tell he felt uncomfortable with the conversation.
“Interesting,” I said, though whether that was in regard to his words or his reaction to me asking him something, I wasn’t really sure. “I don’t watch a lot of TV, but I studied SOA like my life depended on
it.”
Which it had. Still did. I’d studied every TV show, documentary, and novel written about club life, had learned the history and structure of motorcycle clubs in our country. I’d learned everything I could when my mom had started hanging around bikers more and more.
None of that knowledge had helped either one of us in the end, though.
Finn shrugged. “I’ll have to watch it sometime to have a frame of reference, though that won’t answer my question.”
About why I was at the Soul Suckers’ clubhouse. About how I knew them and they knew me. I didn’t usually like going with honesty, but I figured Deacon and Alder already knew this part. It was only a matter of time before the rest of the Kennard clan heard the story. Besides, my time with that club was far easier to explain and deal with than what I’d done with the Black Angels. “I was a prisoner of the Soul Suckers club, not a member.”
His lips flattened into a thin line. “They held you against your will?”
He made it sound as if he was shocked by the news. He shouldn’t have been. “It’s really not all that unusual in those circles.”
“Why?”
“Because assholes like the men in the Soul Suckers think women are nothing more than property.”
He nodded, looking almost distracted. “They treated Alder’s fiancée like that. Shye—they hung a debt around her neck that she could never pay off, then tried to come grab her and take her away. As if she belonged to them.”
“She did.” I shrugged when his head jerked in my direction. “That’s how they see us, Fish. We’re not humans—we’re objects that have no free will or agency. I made a deal with a club that chose to hand me off to another. Not my choice, not my plan, not my place to say no.”
“I just don’t get it.”
“How men can be such pigs?”
“No, I get that. Men can be awful,” he said, which brought a choked sort of laugh from me. At least the man recognized his gender’s faults. “What I can’t understand is how you got mixed up with them. You don’t really fit the club girl sort of mold.”
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