Ice shrugs, like he couldn’t give a fuck less. “Car accident? That’s Jackson’s problem, not ours.”
“They beat me up,” Martin whines and holds up his raw wrists. “One of those psychos cut off my finger.” He wiggles what’s left of his bloody pinky.
We’re in the parking lot behind the hospital. No one’s close enough to overhear our conversation, but that could change at any moment.
Now that I’ve returned to the hospital, I’m eager to get this over with so I can see Shelby.
Jackson sweeps a dismissive glance over Martin’s injuries. “You stole a biker’s girl. You’re lucky that’s all they did to you.” He leans in closer. “You’d done that to a member of my family, no one would ever find your body.”
Martin’s jaw drops.
Another officer joins us, snapping handcuffs on Martin and tossing him in the back of a police car.
“What exactly am I supposed to do with him?” Jackson seethes once the other officer is out of hearing range. “It would’ve been better for everyone if you’d disposed of his body.”
Guess Jackson’s over his earlier snit.
“That might still happen,” I assure him. “But he needs to tell you who was involved, first.”
“Well, fuck.” Jackson rocks back on his heels. “The manager?”
“Nope. Dawson’s ex.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Long enough that I start to wonder if he already suspected Glenna Wilson. “Shit. Was Dawson in on it too?”
“I don’t think so. Sounds more like she was pumping Dawson for information under the guise of a reunion, then fed that info to Suggs.”
“Jesus Christ.” Jackson cocks his head and stares at the sky for a few seconds. “I looked into her. Something didn’t smell right, but she’s a high-profile gal. Been in the business for a long time. Lot of people around her.”
“What are you trying to say? She’s untouchable?”
“More or less.” He pins me with the hard eyes of a cop who’s seen justice perverted one too many times. “It could get ugly for Shelby.”
Unfortunately, that thought has already occurred to me.
“How sure are you that she hasn’t had a fling with Dawson?” Jackson asks.
“Hundred percent,” I growl. Shelby wouldn’t have kept something like that from me. “Even if she did—which she absolutely did not—it’s irrelevant.”
“Won’t matter. Press will paint her as the Jezebel of country music.”
“You an expert on the music scene now too?” Ice asks.
“Let me talk to Dawson and Greg,” I say, cutting them off before they start a new round of trying to out-piss each other. “I’m not going to stress Shelby out with this stuff right now.”
“I’m booking him with kidnapping, arson, assault and battery, and whatever else I can come up with. He won’t see daylight anytime soon,” Jackson assures me.
“Good.”
Ice glances over at the cop car. “You should’ve worked him over a little more, Rooster. A weakling like him won’t last long inside.”
Regret squeezes the air from my lungs. I should’ve ended Suggs.Who knows when I’ll have the chance again.
Chapter Twelve
Rooster
Uncertain about turning Suggs over to the cops and unsure who’s the best person to ask for advice, I stalk into the hospital.
On Shelby’s floor, I run into Greg. Somehow he’s even more disheveled than he was when I left.
“It’s breaking. The story’s all over the place now. Even made it to cable news.” He points at the small television in the waiting room. “They haven’t released the name of the hospital, so at least she won’t get mobbed here, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“My brothers won’t let anyone near Shelby.”
Greg doesn’t exactly seem thrilled by that plan. Too bad. He better get used to lots more Lost Kings providing Shelby’s security for the rest of the tour.
My phone buzzes. Shit, I hope Shelby’s mom isn’t having any problems at the airport.
But it’s an unknown number with a 716 area code. Western New York. “Give me a minute, Greg.” I step into the stairwell and answer the call. “Yeah?”
“Rooster?”
“Who’s this?” I have my suspicions but I want to be sure.
“Chaser.”
I blow out a breath. “Hey.”
“I heard about Shelby. She all right?”
“I think so. I’m still at the hospital with her.”
“They catch the guy?”
“Something like that.”
He chuckles. “Not gonna ask.”
“Feds have him now.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Yeah.”
“You need anything? Anything we can do to help?”
Although I’m not really sure what assistance Chaser’s club can give me, I appreciate the offer. “Thanks.”
“No sweat. Don’t ever hesitate to call me.” He waits a beat or two before continuing. “So, was this a random stalker?”
“Yeah, he’s a fucking loon. Started out sending her these crazy letters and it escalated from there.” I don’t have it in me to get into the whole story over the phone.
“Fuck, brother. Been there. Nothing quite this awful,” he hurries to add.
I almost forgot about his and Mallory’s Hollywood ties for a second. Maybe he’ll have some useful advice. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
I lean over the railing, checking no one’s in the stairwell. “You know how she’s out on tour with Dawson Roads?”
“Tell me he wasn’t involved.” The rumbling menace in his voice comes through loud and clear.
“No. Not him. I don’t think so, anyway. But his ex-girlfriend.”
“Glenna Wilson?” He whistles low and long. “Shit. Seriously? They had an ugly breakup or something recently. And before you ask, it was all over some blog my daughter reads. She told me all about it after we ran into you guys.”
I smother a laugh. “I don’t know much about it, other than what Shelby said. But somehow Dawson’s ex contacted this crackpot when she noticed him commenting on all of Shelby’s Instagram posts or some shit.”
“Christ, that’s fucking weird.”
“It’s totally fucked.”
“What’s your question?”
“The agent in charge seems to think if they go after her, it could blow back on Shelby. Somehow make her look bad. Fuck with her career since she’s so new and this woman is more established. Honestly, I was concerned about that before he even said it.”
Chaser blows out a long breath and doesn’t speak for a minute. “I stepped away from all that years ago to help my dad run the club, so I don’t know all the key players these days.”
While running the Devil Demons MC must take up the majority of Chaser’s attention, I can’t picture him staying completely away from the entertainment industry. Dawson said as much when he let it slip that he’d spoken to Chaser’s “people” about writing some new material together.
“But I know who Dawson is and I know about Glenna,” Chaser continues, confirming my suspicions. In the background, it sounds like he’s clicking a pen or typing on a keyboard. “The press on Glenna isn’t great right now. Rumor is she got caught cheating. Public opinion isn’t really in her favor.”
“That should be good for Shelby, then.”
“Key words—should be. The business is totally fucked, so it could always go the other way. But Shelby’s young, well-liked for the most part. Worked her way up from nothing. People love the underdog. She’s been through something scary and scandalous—a kidnapping. Everyone likes to jack off to some juicy trauma porn,” he adds in a dry way that makes it clear how he feels about people who get their kicks out of others’ misery. “My guess would be sympathy’s gonna land on Shelby’s side. Especially if you play it right. She got a PR person?”
“I don’t think so.”
>
“Let me find you a name. It might take me a minute to track down the right person but I’ll ask around.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. I’m sorry she’s going through this. Glad she’s got you looking out for her.”
Yeah, because I’m doing such a bang-up job.
“I’d watch out for anyone in the business telling Shelby not to press charges or sweep it under the rug. They might be more worried about Glenna’s interests than Shelby’s.”
“Thought of that too.”
“Or they’re just straight-up spineless.”
That describes a few people I can think of. “Hate to ask for another favor…”
“Ask away, Rooster. I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t want to help.”
Part of me can’t stop wondering what favors Chaser will want in return. Another part of me doesn’t care. “I’m gonna have a few brothers traveling with us for the rest of the tour—”
“You looking for extra protection?”
“Possibly. If not this tour, then the next one.”
“Yeah. Anytime you’re gonna be rolling through our territory, let me know. You still coming to our anniversary party?”
“You send us an invite?”
“I’ll ask Mallory.” He laughs. “But we’ll have brothers from all over in for the party, so I’ll introduce you around. Make sure everyone knows you’re a friend of the club.”
That’s one hell of a generous offer. “Thanks, brother.”
“Anytime. Let Shelby know Mallory and I hope she’s okay.”
“Will do.”
We hang up and I contemplate calling Z to let him know about my conversation with Chaser. Even though it had to do with Shelby, eventually it’ll bleed into club business, so I should give Z a heads-up.
Below me, the scuff-thump of someone hoofing it up the stairs grabs my attention. Sounds like cowboy boots maybe?
I press my back to the wall so I’m facing the staircase and casually cross my arms over my chest.
A few seconds later, Dawson appears on the landing below.
His eyes widen when he notices me waiting by the door to the hallway. Can’t exactly avoid me.
“Logan. What’s up?” He glances back the way he came. “I’m trying to avoid any reporters.”
When I don’t answer, he frowns and jogs up the final few stairs.
I back him into the corner. “We need to chat.”
Misery seems to wash over him and he glances down at his boots. “Shit. Glenna was involved, wasn’t she?”
He sure arrived at that conclusion fast. “You knew?”
“I suspected her involvement. After Shelby was already here. When Glenna called me earlier.” He pauses and stares straight ahead. “Something she said didn’t sit right. Story hadn’t fully broken yet, but she somehow had details even I didn’t have.”
“You motherfucker. Why didn’t you say something?”
“What was I going to say?” He waves his hands in the air. “You were gone. I didn’t want to tell Greg my suspicions. How was that gonna help anyone?”
“You talk to Jackson?”
“That FBI prick? Fuck no.”
“So what were you planning to do? Keep quiet and let your girl get away with it?”
“I didn’t know for sure.” He presses his fist to his stomach. “It was a gut feeling. I wanted to talk it over with you.”
“Right.” My tone conveys how much I believe that story. “Not like you have my number or anything.”
Some of the rugged country boy persona he’s known for seeps into his hard expression. “Didn’t think you’d want to discuss it over the phone with the FBI monitoring your every move. Come on, now. I know you MC boys better than that.”
Even when I was a boy, I never cared for anyone calling me one. “Careful, Dawson. Me and my MC boys don’t give a fuck who you are.”
Dawson doesn’t flinch. I don’t elaborate on my threat. Don’t have to.
“I have friends in a few clubs,” he says, testing the waters.
“That right?” He’s smart enough not to go dropping names, so maybe he does have a few club connections. Doesn’t really make a difference to me.
“Ah, fuck.” He waves his hand between us. “You know I respect Shelby a hell of a lot. I’m fucking furious about what happened to her.”
He did cooperate with the cops. Fuck knows, he could’ve told Jackson to stuff it, hopped on his tour bus and headed out of Virginia without Shelby. Instead, he’s canceled a bunch of dates, which has to be costing him a fortune.
“Knowing I’m somehow responsible?” he continues. “That’s not sitting well with me, Logan. Shit, you have any idea how many women I’ve been through? None of them ever pulled a stunt like this.”
“Guess you’re a real heartbreaker.”
He huffs out an annoyed breath. “If anyone’s heart was broken it was mine. First, when she fucked my best friend. And again, discovering she had a hand in Shelby’s kidnapping.”
“Your heart really isn’t my concern, Dawson.”
“We were together a long damn time. I never…thought she was capable of something like this. I don’t know what the hell was going through her mind. Whether she thought he’d really nab Shelby or it was some sick game.”
His phone buzzes and he checks the screen. “Speak of the she-devil.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “Answer it.”
“I—” He opens his mouth as if to argue with me, then shakes his head and accepts the call. “What do you want?” he snaps.
Dawson holds it up between us so I can hear their conversation. Something I didn’t ask him to do. The action alleviates any lingering suspicions of his involvement.
“Why so testy?” a soft, seductive voice purrs out of the phone. “What’s the—”
“Glenna.” His gruff tone cuts her off. “I’m gonna ask you somethin’ and I need you to be straight with me.”
“What’s that, baby?”
He rolls his eyes. “You have something to do with Shelby’s kidnapping?”
Nothing like going straight for it, Dawson.
“Now, why would you ask me such a question?” Her outraged voice has a tinny fakeness to it. “I don’t even know your new plaything.”
“Jesus Christ, how many times do I need to explain this? I’m not beddin’ her. Never was. She’s my opening act. That’s it. I would’ve been on tour with you this summer—just like the last two years—if you hadn’t been screwin’ Tucker behind my back.”
“I told you that was a lapse in judgment.”
“And I told you, I don’t give a fuck. You’re both dead to me. Time to let go and move on, darlin’.”
He uses the word darlin’ just about as sarcastically as any biker’s ever used it. I smother a laugh.
“Now, answer me,” Dawson continues in a cold, business-like tone, “were you involved?”
“How could I be involved?” she answers coyly. “I don’t know Martin Suggs.”
My eyes widen. As far as I know, no one’s reported Martin’s name yet. He’s still an “unknown suspect.”
Dawson meets my eyes and raises an eyebrow. I nod.
“Right,” Dawson says slowly. “I notice you haven’t even asked if Shelby’s okay.”
“Why should I care? She’s nothing to me.”
Dawson winces. Yeah, I’d be embarrassed too if I’d been in love with such a cold-hearted bitch. I’ve never hurt a woman, but I hope to fuck I never run into this one. It’d be awfully tempting to rip out her fucking throat.
She blows out a long, dramatic breath. “Fine, how is the little girl? I hope nothing bad happened to her,” she says with all the sincerity of a B-list actress.
Dawson glances at me again and I shake my head.
“Don’t know yet,” he answers.
“What’s wrong?” A little more concern creeps into Glenna’s tone.
“Doctors won’t tell me. I’ll talk to her boyfriend later a
nd find out.”
“She has a boyfriend?”
“Yeah, darlin’. Big biker guy. Pretty sure his club has a charter not too far from Nashville.”
“Don’t you threaten me, Dawson.” Her shrill tone echoes in the stairwell.
“Who’s threatening?” Dawson’s response is smooth as butter. “Just making a lil’ conversation.”
“You tell anyone I was involved, I’ll bury you and Shelby in the press. Every last seat on your pathetic tour will be empty.”
“My, my,” he drawls. “Seems like an overreaction for someone who claims to be innocent.”
“I took the blame for the Tucker incident because I felt bad. But I could just as easily share the ‘real’ scoop—that you and Shelby were screwing around behind my back first.”
“That’s gonna be a little hard to prove since I hadn’t even met Shelby when we split, Glenna.”
“Does the truth matter? People believe what they want to believe. I can be convincing.”
“Yeah, don’t I know it,” Dawson mutters.
“I’m not kidding.” Glenna’s tone sharpens. “I’ll talk to Bud and get your ass booted from the label. We both know I’m the better earner.”
“Suuure.” Dawson draws out the word in a low, mocking tone. “Be my guest, darlin’. Been thinking of going in a different direction for a while now, anyway.”
“Shelby will never get signed.”
“That girl’s got more talent in her pinky fingers than you’ll ever have, so good luck with that.”
“Talent is irrelevant. You oughtta know that better than anyone, Mr. Beers and Blue Jeans.”
I choke on a laugh while looping my finger through the air in a “wrap it up” sort of gesture. Dawson glares at me. “I gotta go, Glenna. Looks like there’s news about Shelby.”
Silence from the other end.
“I hope she’s okay.” It almost sounds sincere.
“For your sake, I hope you’re telling the truth, Glenna. What you did to me was bad enough, but to drag that innocent girl into it… It’s like I never knew you at all.”
Poor bastard looks so miserable, I’d rather be standing anywhere else, listening to any other conversation, than one so personal.
Lyrics on the Wind (Lost Kings MC Book 17) Page 10