Rick flushed in anger and humiliation at Derek’s smugness. Jane had never cared a thing for him. He shot her a look and she made a face that was both apologetic and indifferent, as if it didn’t really matter to her.
“You can be upset later,” said Derek. “I came to tell you we’re sending a half-dozen bikes next week and you’re to unload them to different places.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Don’t get all shitty. You still got a pretty wife, big house, and kids to never see again, so keep yourself in check.”
Rick tried to let that go so that he didn’t do something stupid. “You could’ve waited until I came back to tell me, or did you come down here to check on your whore?”
“Fuck you, Rick,” Jane snapped, scowling.
Well at least she has some pride, thought Rick.
“I went to CMS on a stolen bike for you to ditch,” Derek began, “and your guys told me about the R1 you needed to get rid of, so I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone by riding that down here for our associates in Charlottesville to sell. And see my two favorite people, of course.”
Rick grew alarmed. “Wait. What? That R1 is the one from CMS?”
Derek shrugged. “Yeah. Why the worry?”
Rick swore and moved to the window. “Jesus. That’s Tristan’s bike!”
“Who’s that?”
“Tristan Kendall, pro racer. More importantly, he’s here at the inn with his girlfriend. He’s on this tour with me. Get that fucking bike out of here.”
Derek glared. “Watch your tone.”
“Fuck my tone, Derek. Get that bike out of here now. Or give me the keys so I can get rid of it. If he sees it, we’re fucked.”
Derek joined him at the window and glanced out, seeing the bike in the growing darkness, the rear light from the back door illuminating it. As they watched, Tristan appeared, heading for the yellow Honda Goldwing he’d ridden. In mid-stride, he turned toward the blue R1. The watchers couldn’t see his face until he went around to the bike’s far side, the one with two stickers on it, and turned around. Even from that distance, Rick saw recognition register.
“Christ,” said Rick, running a hand through his hair. “There’s no way he’s going to think this is a coincidence. He might as well be looking at it at CMS.”
Derek nodded. “So then I need to shut him up. Permanently.” He pulled the gun from its holster and headed toward the door.
“Jesus,” said Rick, coming after him. “You can’t kill him, Derek!”
Without stopping on his way out, Derek said, “Of course I can. Right now I just need to stop him from calling the cops.”
“Well, just bring him inside.” He was going to suggest more, but Derek had left.
Chapter 17 – The Price of Love
Tristan stared at his stolen sport bike in disbelief. The details left no doubt it was his. The stickers were the same, including one that didn’t lie completely flat because he’d stuck it on poorly, resulting in a bump. On the right handlebar was the aftermarket throttle control he’d added. And he’d lost the rear tire’s cap when adding air last week; it was still missing.
Tristan clenched his fists, forgetting about the overnight bag he’d come down for. Rick had been lying to his face for days. That son of a bitch! I knew it! He didn’t know what Rick was thinking, having it brought here now.
He’d just gotten off the phone with Riley and learned about the pursuit to a few miles from here, but this was a shock all the same. He patted his pants, looking for his smartphone and its camera. He needed a quick photo to send immediately to Ryan and for any local cops. And then Riley, who’d said something about getting dinner before going home. Tristan had tried to talk him into visiting for a few minutes, but Riley demurred, not wanting to be an extra wheel on their romantic evening together. Now Tristan really wished Riley was coming. With a phone call, he’d change his mind.
Shit. Left the phone upstairs.
He started toward the inn just as a guy in black boots, jeans, and leather jacket exited and coldly looked at him. Tristan swallowed a greeting and intended to pass by, but the guy stepped into his path and raised one arm. On seeing the gun pointed at him, Tristan froze.
“Yeah, holding still is a smart move,” the guy said. “Never looks good when you’ve been shot in the back. Makes you seem like a coward.”
Searching for something to defuse the situation, Tristan said, “I don’t have any money on me.”
“Inside, Tristan.” He gestured toward the inn.
That surprised him. “How do you know me?”
“A little bird told me.”
Tristan thought for a moment. “Rick?”
A nod. “I’m not the one who stole your bike, but I am the guy who just rode it here, and you’re never going to tell anyone. Inside. Now.”
Tristan went stone-cold. The steel in his adversary’s eyes held dark promises. Tristan tried to hide his calculating thoughts, but from the way the guy smiled, he knew he’d failed.
“No,” said Tristan. “Do whatever you have to do here.”
Derek’s eyes hardened. “You want a bullet in the head?”
“You won’t shoot me here, not with all those windows behind you. Someone will see you leaving after. I don’t know who you are, so just take my bike and go. You can have it.”
“Name’s Derek, so now you do. And I don’t want your fucking bike. You think I’m stupid? It’s no coincidence that your stolen bike showed up at the same place that Rick is at. You know he’s involved, or you’d figure it out fast enough and tell the cops. And I can’t have that. Gets me in a lot of trouble, almost as much as you’re in now.”
Tristan saw the guy smirk and sensed a sharp mind, hard to outwit. He asked, “Are you so loyal to Rick that you’ll do this for him?”
Derek sneered. “It ain’t Rick I’m loyal to. You think that asshole is running things? You don’t know shit. Even I’m not in charge.”
“Then who is? Will they be happy about you getting caught? Are you their known associate?”
“You watch too much TV.”
“Whatever. I know I’m not going in there with you.” He began backing away, hoping to lead Derek away from the inn and, more importantly, Victoria.
“Well, that’s fine, golden boy. You go ahead and run away. I’ll just go in there and point this gun at your girl.”
Tristan stopped. The only way he’d have learned of her was Rick. That asshole.
Derek gestured with the gun again. “Come on.”
Tristan reluctantly headed for the inn, noticing Derek back away to keep distance between them. When he reached the door, Rick opened it from inside, his haunted look meeting Tristan’s accusatory glare. Behind Rick stood a fidgeting Larry, whose eyes darted from one person to another and back toward the inn’s main room, where two couples ate dessert. No one else was around. Tristan entered with Derek following.
Tristan held Rick’s concerned gaze. “You can’t let him do this.”
“I’m sorry, Tristan,” Rick said, sounding like he meant it, his expression sober.
Derek said, “You’re gonna be a lot sorrier if you don’t help. Where’s his room? With the girl?”
“I’ll show you.” Rick reluctantly led the way up, Tristan following, Derek behind, and Larry bringing up the rear. “Try to keep it down. Lots of people in here.”
Rick reached the top of the stairs and knocked on the first door. Tristan’s heart pounded as footsteps approached from within. Before he could do anything to prevent Derek and Victoria being together, the gun’s muzzle jabbed into his back. Then the door opened and a smiling Victoria stood there in her sports bra and spandex pants, her expression turning puzzled.
“Uh, Tristan?”
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“So am I, sweetheart,” said Derek, mockingly. “Everybody inside.”
Victoria backed away as Rick entered first. “What’s going on?”
Tristan ushered her back i
nto the room, keeping his body between her and the gun. Derek and Larry entered, closing the door. Tristan’s pained expression caused her to look past him to the gun pointed at Tristan’s back. She gasped.
“Turn around, golden boy,” commanded Derek.
Tristan kissed Victoria on the cheek and did as he was told, keeping her directly behind him so that she had to look over his shoulder.
“Well,” began Derek, “it seems we have a situation. If you behave yourselves… Well, okay, that’s a lie. I’m planning to kill both of you.”
“What?” Victoria asked in shock.
Derek continued. “It’s just a question of who else you make me kill while I’m at it.”
“How about nobody?” Tristan suggested.
“I second that,” said Rick.
“Shut up,” snapped Derek. “Both of you. I’d rather murder you than go to prison for some grand larceny bullshit.”
“Well you can’t do it here,” said Rick, stalling him.
“I need a car. Jane’s got one?”
“Yeah.”
Derek ordered Larry, “Go get the keys. Bring her in here, too.” Larry looked at Rick for approval to do this, and Derek snapped, “Don’t look at him! I’m in charge here.”
“Yeah, sure,” said Rick, holding up placating hands and nodding at Larry as if to suggest he do whatever Derek said. As Larry left, silence descended on the room.
“Tristan,” Victoria began quietly, “what in the world is going on?”
He shot a look at Rick as he answered, “CMS stole my bike and this guy rode it down here. I caught him outside with it. I’m a witness, so…”
In disbelief, she stared at the CMS owner and quietly asked, “Rick?”
He looked her in the eye very briefly before glancing away, as if ashamed.
Tristan eyed their captors. From the way Rick nervously looked at the gun and Derek, and the guilty glances at Tristan and Victoria, Tristan realized that Rick was in over his head. Larry seemed even worse. Tristan wondered if he could overpower Derek and meet little resistance from the others. Maybe this wasn’t really three guys against one, but just him and Derek.
“Isn’t there another way to do this?” Rick asked.
Derek said, “No.”
“What if we read them in on it?” Rick suggested. “Tristan’s been asking me about getting involved in the business.”
“Somehow I doubt this is what he had in mind.”
Tristan remarked, “Well it’s better than being dead.”
“You’ll never know,” said Derek.
The door opened and Larry and Jane entered before closing it again. The room wasn’t really big enough for all of them to be there comfortably. Tristan wondered if the closeness could work against Derek somehow. He could only shoot one before the other four jumped him, but that took coordination. Tristan frowned. Victoria could be the one shot. Saving her was all that mattered now. Getting himself killed without preventing Derek from hurting her was pointless. That made him wonder about Jane, who now also knew what was going on.
“Are you gonna kill Jane, too?” Tristan asked.
“She’s with me,” Derek announced.
As if to prove that point, Jane pulled a gun from her purse and kept it at the ready.
Shit, thought Tristan. Should’ve kept my mouth shut. Then again, I would’ve been surprised if I’d counted on her help. So now it’s two of them definitely into this, and two not.
“Well you can’t do it here,” repeated Rick, breaking his thoughts and shooting him a look that Tristan interpreted as helping to stall. “Where will you take them?”
Derek pulled out his phone. “I know a guy who can find me something.” To Jane, he said, “Keep an eye on them.” He examined the window, making sure no one could get out that way. Then he stepped into the hallway and closed the door. Larry discreetly moved closer to it and cocked his ear as if eavesdropping.
Tristan asked, “What have you gotten yourself mixed up in?”
The CMS owner frowned. “You don’t understand.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m asking,” Tristan observed. Rick didn’t answer, so after a moment, he tried more aggression. “Are you ready to be an accessory to murder?”
“He’s not…” Rick stopped.
“Yes he is. He’s gonna take us somewhere and either kill us himself or get someone else to do it. That’s what he’s arranging right now.”
From behind Tristan, where she was clutching him, Victoria trembled. “You can’t let him do this, Rick.”
Rick gestured angrily. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this!”
“What wasn’t?” Tristan asked. “Stealing my bike?”
“No! Yes. All of it.”
Tristan asked, “All of what? What the hell is going on? Who is that guy?”
From where he stood by the door, trying to listen to Derek’s conversation through it, Larry said, “Tell him, Rick.”
“What good will that do?” Rick asked.
Victoria said, “If you’re gonna have us killed, you can at least tell us why.”
Rick closed his eyes and sighed before opening them again. When his gaze fell on Jane, who stood looking at him with a mixture of pity and amusement, his eyes hardened. He looked Tristan in the eye. “It’s the Goddamn mob, okay? I didn’t get involved with them on purpose.”
Tristan went cold. “Then why?”
Rick gestured futilely. “I did really well in the stock market years ago and opened CMS and the restaurant. Then the damn market crashed and creditors came after me. By then I had the wife, three kids, and the big house. I went to a loan shark in New Jersey. Should’ve known better, but I was desperate. Once I got involved with that guy, they started sending stolen parts and bikes for me to sell. At first I didn’t know that, but ignorance doesn’t get you off from the cops. I was fucked, but I was still holding out, trying not to get more involved like they wanted.”
He paused and shot a glance at Jane. “And I just found out they set me up so that I’d give in. They sent Jane here to seduce me, I guess, without me knowing that until just now. They took photos. When they blackmailed me, I thought they’d just been tailing me and caught me in the act, but they were behind it the whole time. You’re a good actress, honey, I’ll give you that.”
“It was a job,” she coolly replied. “And it paid well. Besides, don’t go around thinking you’re the only ones they’ve got their hooks in.”
Rick looked startled at that.
“Wow,” said Victoria. “Jesus, Rick.”
“So what happened then?” Tristan asked, stalling for time.
“Using the photos,” began Rick, “they told me they’d show them to my wife if I didn’t agree to help with the stolen bikes and parts. I’ve been doing it ever since.” He turned to Jane as if having a thought. “And why have you been doing this ever since? Why not just once with me?”
She admitted, “They wanted fresh evidence of your affairs all the time, in case the photos were needed.”
He flushed with anger, feeling rejected and used. “That’s fucking great.”
Trying to sound sympathetic, Tristan remarked, “Okay, so you’re not a killer, or accessory to murder. Yet. Are you drawing the line there?”
Jane spoke first. “Doesn’t matter, because I’m already an accessory before today, so what’s one more?”
“Two,” said Rick, glaring at her. “Or is counting not among your skills?”
She pointed the gun at him. “Shut up or I’ll make it three.”
The door opened and Derek returned. “Okay, we’re leaving.” He pointed the gun at Tristan and Victoria. “You two, and Jane. Rick and whoever-you-are will stay here,” he said to Larry.
“Tristan,” Victoria whispered in his ear, her tone urgent.
Tristan squeezed her hand. “We’re not going with you.”
“You want to be shot here?”
“You won’t. You’ll get caught.”
“But if you don’
t come with me, I’ll get caught anyway, for grand larceny, so there’s no difference for me, only you.”
“Theft is a lot better than murder.”
Derek shook his head. “You won’t be the first ones I’ve killed, so getting caught for anything means going down for murder. But for you, well, you can either die here, right now, and doom your girl to death, too, or you can come with me and die somewhere else.”
“If I’m going to die, why does it matter where?”
“Because death is certain here, but if you come quietly, who knows? Maybe God will save you or some stupid shit like that. Slim chance or no chance. Take your pick.” Derek aimed the gun at Victoria’s head.
Tristan’s heart clenched at the sight and a vast hatred of Derek roared up within him. But there was nothing he could do. Not yet. The man was right. Here and now was certain, but any number of things could happen on the way to their execution somewhere else. He let out a big breath and squeezed Victoria’s hand, slowly moving toward the door with her trailing behind, her grip on him like steel.
Chapter 18 – Lifelines
Riley Kendall had pretty good instincts. They had saved his life a few times in the Marines. And sometimes while riding a motorcycle on the notoriously bad traffic on D.C.’s beltway. Even while just living his life, there had been the countless little moments of trusting his judgment and later having it confirmed. So when the impulse to drop by the Somerset Inn struck him, he exited the Dairy Queen where he’d eaten dinner and mounted his Harley.
With a roar, Riley’s Night Rod came to life and he strapped on the helmet. He’d swing by to say hello to Tristan and Victoria before heading home through Charlottesville instead of up Skyline Drive, which wound through a National Park that was closing for the night at any minute now. He merged onto I-64, heading toward the setting sun. It took less than ten minutes to reach the inn. On nearing it, he saw Tristan’ stolen motorcycle on the driveway running past the building.
Son of a bitch. Wonder if Tristan has seen that. Could get tricky fast.
He saw no one outside and passed the inn, pulling into the next driveway. The thief and Tristan together meant trouble. Getting to Tristan fast took priority over calling Officer Conway, who’d earlier given Riley his phone number—and a citation for running a red light. But when Riley realized he couldn’t just walk in the front door because the thief might see him and know something was up, he called anyway. After hearing the news, Conway said he’d be there with reinforcements in ten minutes and to stay put, but Riley felt that would be too late.
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