Ride to Restoration (Ride Series Book 2)

by DJ Wilson

  Loading the bike on the trailer, I quickly tied it down while Victoria tossed our bags in the back of the truck. Her last statement deserved an answer, but not before I climbed under the truck looking for any strange device or object that might have appeared while I was gone.

  Seriously, all I see are his feet sticking out from under the truck. “Uh... umm ... lose something?”

  Confident no one had attached a tracking device or possibly an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) to my truck, I emerged, shaking my head no, before replying. “I promise. Second, I was making sure I would honor that promise, beginning here, beginning now.” The fifteen-minute drive to her house in my truck took some getting used to. No handlebar to hold onto, no wind in my face, no bugs in my teeth ... rough life ahead I guess. “Vic, how long do you need to transform from a biker babe to a lady of leisure?”

  Lady of leisure, sounds like he’s calling me a— I smiled. “Thirty minutes, give or take. I do need to go next door and pick up my mail.”

  Watching her walk away without her ever present leathers reminded me so much of Candi. Hopefully soon, Candi … soon. We’ll see if Humpty Dumpty can put us back together again. If not, there’s always Victoria, who was screaming my name over and over again in real time.

  “D, wake up! You could help you know.” Geez, men!

  I looked up to see Vic, dragging two large boxes, her mail scattered across the ground. I jumped from the truck and offered my assistance, gathering her wayward mail, before tackling the heavy cardboard boxes.

  “They’re clothes, D, Candi’s and mine. You might as well open them and put Candi’s in your truck, along with her leathers I left in the back. Bring my bag into the house. I’ll repack it. Then we can leave. Want something to drink?”

  “Water, please.” Her well-appointed house, I assumed awarded to her in the divorce, was a ’60s red brick Craftsman in a quaint neighborhood with manicured lawns. Not the kind of place for singles like Vic, but families with kids or possibly retirees. Hardwood floors, solid core doors, and ornate crown moldings highlighted an interior that was sparsely furnished. Compliments of the divorce I am certain.

  “I’m sure I have that,” I winked, rummaging around in my near empty refrigerator. “When does my plane leave?”

  “Hold that thought. I’ll let you know before you’re through packing.” I summoned SIRI, flights and times departing Sioux City, Iowa this afternoon. Ahh, technology. A powerful tool, and an even more powerful enemy, creating the mostly sedentary society to date.

  I tossed him a bottle before I peeled off my days old clothes and jumped into my very own shower, breathing a welcome sigh of relief. With little time to wash and dry my hair, I was perfectly content to scrub my body clean with my own body wash for a change. Beaming from my instantaneous makeover, I was out the door in twenty, repacked and ready to ride ... I mean fly. “So when does my plane leave, D?”

  “One Ten, going to Chicago O’Hare, I’ll book your next leg at the airport.” At least I hoped I could. “It’s 12:15. We’d better go, girlfriend. You need to make any stops along the way?”

  “I do, lots of them. But they can wait. The quicker you see me off, the quicker you’ll be on your way.”

  “If you need to make stops, I’ll find you a later flight. It’s OK.”

  I thought long and hard about his generous offer. “Will you leave me at the airport to catch a later flight?” I knew the answer before I asked.

  “Nope. I’m staying until you’re on the plane, wheels up.”

  “I thought so. Never mind.”

  I had us at the American Airlines desk at 12:40 where I bought Vic a ticket to Chicago and a voucher that would put her on the first available flight with open seats to Atlanta. “Here you go girlfriend with twenty minutes to spare. By the way, did you call your cousin and tell her you were coming? Just wondering.”

  “I did not. Didn’t exactly know if and when I’d get there. Will call her from Chicago. Give me a hug and a kiss, Jon David. Then get your ass on the road.”

  I obliged wholeheartedly. “Thank you, Victoria, for being there for me ... in so many ways. I’ll miss you, girlfriend.”

  “I’ll miss you. … Now go, before I start getting teary-eyed.” Too late, the tears cascaded across my cheeks while I tried to walk away.

  Catching her arm, I spun her around and wiped her tears off with my fingers before resorting to my sleeve. I whispered, “We created something special, you and I. That can never be taken away. Remember that, Victoria. ... In the words of Arnold Schwarzenegger, ‘I’ll be back.’ You can count on it, girlfriend.” Vic pulled away, kissing me one last time on the cheek before passing through security and out of my sight, leaving me with a hollow feeling in my stomach and a lump in my throat. I hope you know what you’re doing, D. I didn’t. I really wished I did.

  I exited the short-term parking lot with my bike in tow and drove to the cellphone waiting area. I made a call to Jim. ... and got his voice mail.

  “Jim, it’s D. Heading home ... alone. Call when you can. I’ve got a days worth of windshield time ahead of me before I stop.”

  Chapter 53

  At twenty past one, American Eagle, FLT 2289 lifted off into the northeastern sky, carrying Victoria Lawson, Attorney at Law away from me, further still away from harm. Five hundred miles and seven plus hours away, the Ameristar Casino, my last overnight stay before the lush green mountains of Tennessee would appear in my windshield.

  Driving south on I-29, I skirted the Missouri River, driving through an abundance of cornfields all the way to St. Joseph, Missouri. There the terrain changed, turning into rolling hills to Kansas City and east on I-70 to St. Louis. Driving my Tundra after a month on the bike was a welcome respite no matter how much I loved two wheels.

  Sirius radio and I got reacquainted after a long absence. I also enjoyed the artificially created luxuries I’d done without, i.e. A/C and heat. One never appreciates what they have until it’s gone ... Lately, that’s the story of my life. Traipsing through my mind were the memories I’d made with Candi from Tennessee to Alabama and all points West, followed by those I’d made with Vic on the ride back East. What do I bring to the table that would make either one of these beautiful young women want to spend their bright futures with me? That was the million-dollar question I can’t seem to answer.

  My phone vibrated then rang, number blocked. Had to be Jim. Or was it? I answered reluctantly with a question.

  “Yes?”

  “D, is that you? It’s Jim.”

  Relieved, I exhaled before continuing, “Hi, Jim. Yes, it’s me. Thanks for the alert. What can you tell me that I don’t already know?”

  “My sources tell me someone from the Family you’ve been recently ... uh-hum humping ... is trying to collect the bounty Standford put on that ugly head of yours. I’m led to believe they know where you are. It’s possible they have compromised your recent flavor, excuse me, flavor’s phones and have tracked them to you and your location.”

  “That’s encouraging. I’ve changed phones every week, even used the Sat phone you gave me.”

  “Doesn’t matter, D. We’re talking NSA stuff here. Somebody with extremely large gonads, throwing around large sums of cash that wants to find you bad enough, can, as long as you leave any type of electronic trail.”

  “Sucks to be me, huh? ... Mayberry ... It’s sounding better by the moment.”

  “What? ... Mayberry, who said anything about Mayberry?”

  “Inside joke. I can toss this phone and use pay phones from now on. Then again, sounds like it wouldn’t matter one way or the other. I’ll continue to use both. Give ’em something extra to decipher.”

  “You’re dead on. They can still locate your general location if they’re monitoring the people you’re talking to. That aside, we probably need to relocate you again. You got that message. Right?”

  I exhaled again. “Loud and clear, Jim. Loud and clear.”

  “How long do you think it would
take you to wrap up your business and move again? I can assign a small protection detail to stay with you until then.”

  “I hate to tell you this, especially after all you’ve done for me, but I’m inclined to take a rain check on your offer. I’m tired of starting over. I’m thinking about retiring to an island somewhere and writing a book. If I do, I’ll send you a postcard along with a signed copy.”

  “You’re serious? We did a good job of protecting you, that is, until you started thinking with your dick instead of your brain.”

  “I do resemble that remark. I got it. Me and dick were out of sorts at the lake. Lonely ... is my one word description. Actually, I thought I’d found something that made us both happy ... and who knows it still might. Funny thing is, it’s gonna play out over the next few days one way or the other.”

  “I don’t agree with you leaving the program, that’s my official statement. On the other hand, I understand. If you’re off grid — off radar — you’re no longer in our system waiting to be hacked or compromised. What can I do, if anything, to help?”

  “Send the Calvary if and when I call. I’m snatching the dog tomorrow on my way through and heading south. I’ll be in touch. Thanks.” I pressed end.

  Chapter 54

  Thank God for windshield time. Make a plan ... weigh it ... revise it ... trash it ... make another one. Over the next few hours that’s what I did. The only thing I knew for sure was a costumed Benefit Ball for Children’s Hospital happening in Tampa next Saturday night, ten days from tomorrow. That gives me two days to pick up Major and grab my stuff, two days to get to Tampa and then a week to put my recently hatched plan into action.

  Do I meet up with Candi immediately or wait? That thought immediately started a rise developing in my jeans. Wait until you have a plan in place, said my big brain. Got to get in touch with Giovanni to make either call. On the outskirts of St. Charles my phone vibrated, then chirped with a text from Vic:

  Arrived in Atlanta, renting a car. Call if you can.

  Of course I can when I get to the room. And say what? I had approximately ten minutes before I descended upon the Ameristar to come up with an answer. If it doesn’t work out with Candi — and there’s a fifty-fifty chance it won’t — will I welcome Victoria back into my life? Would she welcome me? Women and woo-hoos — woo-hoos and women ... they’re bound to be the death of me yet. Ahh…But what a way to go!

  I pulled into valet parking and gave the kid two twenties as he handed me a receipt. “Park this somewhere where you can keep an eye on it. Don’t want anyone messing with my bike.” He laughed, I didn’t.

  “Yes sir,” this uniformed teen replied somberly, standing straight and tall, “I’ll park it in a ‘No Parking’ area directly across the street where I can keep an eye on it personally. Name’s Jake. Welcome to the Ameristar Hotel and Casino. Are you staying with us tonight?”

  I like this kid. He so reminds me of me. I peeled off two more twenties and tossed them in the console. “You’re astute, son, I’ll give you that. Thanks.” Snagging my daypack from the back, I tossed it in the front passenger seat, before unlocking my glove box and retrieving a holstered Glock ACP .45 with an extra 10-round clip. Jake turned ashen white. “Just in case I win,” I quipped, “I won’t need it if I lose. Either way, you didn’t see it,” I concluded, while handing him the other two twenties.

  Because it was a weeknight, check-in was a breeze. I requested a room on the 15th floor overlooking the Missouri River. The staff, as usual, graciously accommodated. My king room was luxurious, featuring floor to ceiling windows and a sunken living room.

  Yep, this will do. Not that I planned staying here for long. Tonight, it was just me, a bottle of Smart Water and a two hour appointment at the crap table where I hoped lady luck would shine on me, or not. First, I needed to connect with Victoria. Retrieving her number from my phone, I called her using the landline.

  On the fourth ring, “Victoria Lawson, may I help you?”

  “You may. The valet at the casino gave me your name and number. Since I wasn’t feeling lucky tonight, he said you could fix me up. For a rocking good time call—

  “Me? ... Damn good times, as I recall — at least for you — for me, not so much in the beginning. ... But hey, who’s counting? What number is this? ... You swap phones again?”

  “Nope, landline. You made it to Jasper?”

  “Not yet ... Took a detour, went shopping at Lenox Square. Now I’m having dinner with my cousin at Sam Houston’s in Buckhead. You’ve been here, I’m sure.”

  “I have ... Lots of night life. Doesn’t crank up till way late, that is, at least on weekends.”

  “Yep, you’ve been here. That’s what I remember about hot Lanta. Party late, party hard ... sleep in until two. Enough about me, you have anything new to report?”

  “Not yet. I’ll be back in the land of milk and honey tomorrow. After that, it’s a toss up, most likely the Sunshine State. We ... I mean I ... need to resolve this drama relatively quickly so you can get on with your life.”

  I laughed somberly. “Who knew, meeting you would keep me on an extended vacation? Take care of you, please.”

  “Ditto, take care of you. I could use you right now— Don’t ask.”

  I glowed. “I won’t ... I’m glad ... you miss me.”

  “Yep ... Drink one for me girlfriend. Later.”

  “Gladly, D, maybe two. See ya!”

  Five minutes later, the distinctive sound of clanging slot machines echoing across the casino filled the air. The average age tonight was seventy-plus — the white hairs outnumbering the grey hairs five to one. I landed at the third craps table I found. Though the current shooters perky breasts were entirely distracting, I found my lucky spot at the end of the table opposite her and planted. Tits of distraction aside, it didn’t take me long to get in a groove.

  Over the next hour, I turned five Franklins into five large. Bouncing, titillating ‘Betty-what’s-her-name’ rode with me, matching me bet for bet until she was happier and I was significantly healthier. I cashed out. It was fun, it was fast, it was exhilarating. I needed that momentary escape from all that was behind me, not to mention all that lay ahead.

  Relieved to exit the Casino floor without another Victoria-like encounter like before, I made it to the room, gazed out over the mighty Missouri River, took a deep breath and crashed.

  Chapter 55

  Although luxuriously swaddled in the feathered bedding of the Ameristar, the finest by any standards, I woke abruptly from a deep sleep at 4:10, fifty minutes shy of my alarm. Yes, I could lay here and dwell on the what-ifs or I could shower and shave and get an early start home. I chose the latter.

  Thirty minutes later and another forty bucks lighter, thanks to the attentive morning parking valet, I was on the road traveling east on I-70 straight into St. Louis rush hour traffic. Stop and go with my bike and trailer in tow, I spent the next hour negotiating merges at 25 mph before crossing the mighty Mississippi, eastbound on I-64. Barring any unforeseen acts of God, I hoped to pick up Major by noon and after unpacking and repacking, be on the road to the land of oranges by four.

  At least that was my plan before noticing a black Suburban with dark tinted windows, hanging exactly six cars back as I passed through O’Fallon, Illinois. It didn’t matter whether I cruised at 60 or 80, the distance between us never changed. Turning south onto I-57, I took the first exit in Mt. Vernon to fuel at the Pilot while the Suburban stopped across the road at a competing station, never once leaving my line of sight. I made the call.

  On the first ring, “Jim, it’s D. I have a tail. I’m in Mt. Vernon, Illinois at the Pilot truck stop. Just one vehicle that I can tell. Number of occupants, I have no clue.”

  “D, don’t go anywhere.” Two minutes passed. “I’m back. I’ve patched you into the St. Louis field office.”

  “Yes, sir, this is U.S. Marshal Donnelley. I can put a rapid response team together and be at your location in forty minutes, an hour tops. Ex
cuse me, D, is it, is this threat imminent?”

  “How the hell do I know if it’s imminent? Jim, is this threat imminent or am I blowing smoke up Marshal Donnelley’s ass? Stay on the phone with me for a minute and I’ll run across the street and ask.”

  “Donnelley, D doesn’t cry wolf,” countered Jim. “Threat is credible and verified out of our Tampa office three days ago.”

  “Marshal Donnelley, is it? I’m gonna grab some breakfast to go. Forty miles south, give or take, there’s an out of the way boat launch at the Ina, Rend Lake College exit off I-57. I think there’s a Love’s truck stop on the other side of the exit for reference. You know the place?”

  “It seems vaguely familiar. I remember the Love’s. Oh, hell, I’ll find it. What do you want me to do?” asked Donnelley, now engaged in my predicament.

  “I’m gonna hang out here for another ten, fifteen minutes. Then I’m driving south. I want your team to be dropped in by air, and out of sight by the time I get there. I need some answers that only I can get before you interfere — excuse me, interdict.

  “If I remember correctly, the launch area is about three hundred yards long. I’ll park at the furthest point, closest to the lake with no way of escape. They’ll confidently come to me, and hopefully you. Oh, I’m driving a dark blue Tundra pulling a motorcycle trailer. My friends are in a jet black, late model Suburban that has no good written all over it.”

  “Donnelley, we owe him. Don’t screw this up,” replied Jim. “D, will do his part, make sure you do yours.”

  “Copy that,” Donnelley said. “D, how will we know when to move in?”

  “Good question. If and when I get the answers I need, I’ll move to the back of motorcycle trailer. You can take it from there. Hey, Donnelley, look for any strange motions on my part. I may need your assistance to get their undivided attention at some point. You’ve got fifty minutes, give or take, beginning now. Good luck.” the call disconnected.