Merrick: Harlequins MC

by Olivia Stephens

  She nodded and smiled. “McReed's guys dragged me out of the diner before I had a chance to settle the check. And I feel awful about stiffing Marcia on the tip.”

  Damon laughed. Leave it to her to be worried about something like that. “Where I come from, we'd call that a win. Nothing wrong with free food.”

  She punched him in the arm playfully. “I know you better than that,” she said. “You're not the dine and dash type.”

  “There's a type?”

  She nodded. “Of course there is. Slimy, cheap, scuzzy guys.”

  “Well, I'm certainly not cheap anyway.”

  Cassie laughed and squeezed me tight. “You're not slimy or scuzzy either.”

  “Some might disagree with you,” he said, looking at an older woman who crossed to the other side of the street, giving him hard looks the entire time.

  Cassie watched the older woman go. “Some people are idiots.”

  They arrived at the diner and he told Cassie he'd wait outside while she went in to do what she needed to do. She was a good woman with a good heart. Most people wouldn't have thought twice about getting out of a check. Much less about stiffing the waitress on a tip. But Cassie wasn't most people. And Damon liked that about her. She helped keep him grounded, centered. She helped keep him an honest man.

  Damon watched her through the windows, laughing and joking with the waitress. He slipped the phone out of his pocket and punched in Carl's number. Leaning against the wall, he held the phone to his ear and waited for the call to be connected.

  “Where are you?” Carl said without greeting or preamble. Typical Carl.

  “In town,” he said. “With Cassie.”

  “Yeah, how's that going?”

  Damon knew what Carl was asking. It wasn't that he was actually asking about how things were going between he and Cassie. Nor was he asking how she held up after a rough couple of days. What Carl was really asking was whether or not his ass was covered. Whether or not the club's ass was covered. But Damon wasn't going to give him the satisfaction just yet.

  “She's good,” he said. “Held up well all things considered. Apparently gave McReed more than he could handle down in interrogation.”

  Damon heard him sigh slightly, not enjoying the game. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  “It's not me you should be apologizing to.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “No, definitely,” he snapped. “She didn't sign up for this, man. What in the hell were you thinking giving her all that shit?”

  “She signed up for it when she decided to squat in the clubhouse.”

  “No, she didn't, man.”

  Damon heard the irritation rising in Carl's voice, but didn't care. Carl didn't like to be questioned. Not about anything. Especially not about this. He'd made a judgment call. While Damon knew he hadn't intended for it to blow up in his face the way it had, it still had. Cassie had been caught in the crossfire and it didn't set well with Damon. Nor did Carl's cavalier attitude about it.

  “Look,” Carl said. “I made a call. You don't like it, fine. But this is my club and it was my call to make. So you're gonna have to learn to swallow it down and deal with it.”

  “That's bullsh – ”

  “You want out?” Carl snapped. “Say the word. You don't like the way I'm doing things? You know where the door is, man.”

  Carl's words hit him like a two by four upside the head. He'd never used that tone or said anything like that to him before. This wasn't the first time they'd butted heads over something in all the years they'd known each other, but for some reason, this seemed more personal to him. And it seemed like he was willing to throw away their friendship over it.

  “That's not what I'm saying, Carl.”

  “That's what I'm saying, though,” he said, his voice tight with anger. “You aren't calling the shots here, Damon. I am.”

  he was shocked Carl had put their friendship on the line like that, but Damon was still angry about the fact that he'd used Cassie. And that the call he'd made had almost landed her in prison.

  “We've obviously got a lot to talk about, man,” Damon said. “But I called to tell you the heat's off. McReed's got nothing on us.”

  “And the bag?”

  “Yeah, I'm working on that.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  Damon's anger flared up again so he tried to keep it in check. He didn't need to throw gasoline on the bonfire that was already burning between them.

  “It means Cassie had to ditch the bag when she was running from the cops and the dogs last night.”

  “Ditched it where?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  He looked through the windows and saw that the waitress was giving Cassie a big smile and a hug.

  “Not yet,” he said. “She just got out of the station, man. McReed spent most of the morning sweating her.”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “You sure she didn't give us up?

  Damon sighed. “I'm sure.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Are you sitting in jail right now, Carl?” he snapped. “Am I?”

  At that moment – Damon felt as if the universe was screwing with him – a Kingston PD cruiser rolled by and slowed down. His heart stuttered as he looked at the two cops who were staring daggers back at him. He knew them and they were McReed's guys. Assholes. Damon smiled and gave them the finger as they drove on. Which confirmed his belief she hadn't given us up.

  “You need to get that bag back, Damon.”

  “You think?”

  “Don't push me, man. Not today.”

  Damon shook his head. This conversation wasn't going as he'd planned. He figured Carl would be relieved to hear that McReed was walking away empty-handed again. Instead, it was more of the same tension and conflict they'd been going through for a while.

  “Let me make this clear,” Carl said, “you need to get that bag back to me PDQ or I'm going to take your patch.”

  “Are you fuckin' serious right now?”

  “Do I sound like I'm joking?”

  Damon sighed loudly. “Whatever, man. You'll get your shit back.”

  He disconnected the call and dropped the phone back into his pocket as Cassie stepped back out onto the street. She looked at him, concern etched upon her face.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “I'm good,” he said. “The waitress looks pretty pleased.”

  “She's a sweet lady,” Cassie said. “Said I remind her of her daughter.”

  Damon nodded and smiled but remained quiet. His thoughts and emotions were a whirlwind. There was so much going on in his head and he didn't quite know how to organize or process it.

  “Who were you talking to?” she asked.

  “Carl.”

  Cassie nodded as if she'd read his mind and understood what he was going through. Given how perceptive she was, not to mention how in tune with him she seemed to be, she probably did understand.

  “We'll get his things back to him,” she said.

  Damon pulled her into a tight embrace. “I know,” I said. “I know we will.”

  What he didn't know at the moment was whether or not his friendship with Carl was going to survive, whether there was still a place for him in the club, or whether he even still wanted that place.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  They had to wait until they were sure the cops had suspended their search in the woods before they could go out hunting for the bag. It had taken the better part of three days. They'd been staying at the same motel in Hillside that he'd taken Cassie to after that night in the woods. They hadn't been back to the clubhouse and were doing their best to avoid Carl. Which wasn't easy given the fact that he called ten times a day for a progress report on finding the bag. He was growing impatient.

  “Look, man,” Damon said into the phone. “We're on it, okay? We had to wait until the cops were out of the woods before we could
even start looking. You know that.”

  “All I know is it's been almost four days now and I don't have my shit back yet, Damon,” Carl said.

  “I told you you'd get it back,” I said. “And you'll get it. Now, is there something else you needed or can I get back to what I was doing?”

  “I'm not fuckin' around, man,” Carl said. “Get me my shit.”

  “Okay, great,” he said. “Good talk, man.”

  Damon disconnected the call and dropped the phone back into his pocket. Cassie looked at him with worry in her eyes.

  “He's getting pissed,” she said.

  “He'll get over it.”

  “I'm sorry, Damon,” she said and he saw the tears welling in her eyes. “I'm so sorry.”

  He walked over to her and pulled her into a tight embrace. He kissed the crown of her head and stroked her hair.

  “It's not your fault, babe,” he said. “If it's anybody's fault, it's Carl's. You never should have been in that situation to begin with. Carl never should have forced you into that position.”

  “But if I could only remember where I put the bag – ”

  “How could you?” he asked. “You were running for your life in the middle of the night, through a forest you aren't familiar with. No, this is not your fault.”

  They'd been walking through the woods behind the hotel for hours, starting at sunrise and it was already well past midday. They were both tired, sweaty, and their nerves were frayed. It was the most stressful walk through the woods Damon ever remembered having. They stood, embracing for another moment before she pulled away and looked at a group of trees thoughtfully.

  “Wait,” she said. “Those look familiar.”

  She disentangled herself from him and started walking toward the trees. She touched the trunks and looked up into the canopy overhead. Damon followed her as she walked past the trees. She was doing everything she could to remember which way she'd run and where she might have hidden the bag. But even he thought a lot of the trees and bushes out there looked the same. And that was by the light of day. It would have been even worse in the middle of the night. Especially if you didn't know the area.

  Damon was beginning to have some doubts that we were actually going to find the bag. And that worried him more than a little bit. In the back of his mind, he was already making alternate plans. He was thinking it might be a better idea to get Cassie on the back of his bike and get the hell out of Kingston. For good.

  Maybe getting out of there and making a fresh start somewhere else might be the best thing for both of them. This was a big country, so he wasn't too worried Carl would ever find them if that was the way we went. But there was a part of him that was reluctant to pull the trigger on that plan.

  Like it or not – and sometimes he really, really didn't – Kingston was his home. The Dragons were his family. Carl had taken him in a lifetime ago and had given him a brotherhood. A friendship. A family. He'd given Damon a home. The thought of throwing that all away opened a pit in his stomach.

  “Shit,” Cassie said. “I don't know this place. I thought I did, but I don't know.”

  “It's okay, babe.”

  Tears fell down her face and all he could do was embrace her. It wasn't her fault. None of this was her fault. She couldn't remember exactly where she'd gone or where she'd hidden the bag, but there was no way in hell Damon was going to blame her or get upset with her about it. He couldn't. She'd done it to protect him. To protect the club. Carl should be down on his knees thanking her for taking that on her own shoulders instead of threatening the club over it.

  “It's not okay,” she cried and shook her head. “It's seriously not okay.”

  Damon guided her over to a large flat rock and sat her down. He pulled a bottle of water out of his bag, opened it, and handed it to her. She gave him a small smile and took a long drink, gulping down half the bottle. Knowing they would likely be traipsing around the woods all day, he'd been sure to stock up on snacks and drinks.

  “I don't know what we're going to do,” she said.

  Damon shrugged. “We're either going to find it or we won't.”

  Her laughter was a short, sharp bark. “That's very Zen of you.”

  “It's just the truth,” he said. “We'll keep looking, but at the end of the day, there's nothing more we can do. We're doing the best we can. You're doing the best you can.”

  “And if we don't find it?” she asked. “What then?”

  He sighed. “I really don't know.”

  “Carl's going to be pissed.”

  Damon nodded. “Yeah, but he's already pissed.”

  “I'm afraid of what he might do if we can't find it.”

  “We'll cross that bridge when and if we come to it.”

  She looked at him, her eyes wide. “You don't think he'd... ”

  Her voice trailed off but Damon knew where she was going. “No, I don't think so. Carl's a lot of things, but he's not a killer.”

  She seemed to breathe a small sigh of relief, but she still looked worried. Scared. Probably because he hadn't said it with much conviction. The truth of the matter was Damon had no idea what Carl was capable of. He knew Carl personally wouldn't kill them. But that wasn't to say he wouldn't have one of the other guys, maybe somebody who had an axe to grind with him, do the job.

  Cassie looked all around us, turning in circles. Her eyes were wild and Damon knew she was desperately trying to figure out which way she'd gone and where she might have hidden the bag. She'd take a few steps this way and then a few steps that way. Her every movement was frantic, seemingly on the verge of panic.

  Finally, she stopped. She lowered her head and Damon watched her body shaking as she sobbed. He walked over to where she was standing and wrapped his arms around her.

  “I'm sorry, Damon,” she said. “I'm so sorry. I don't know where it is.”

  “It's okay, babe. We'll figure something out.”

  She looked up at him, her face red and blotchy, tears streaming down her cheeks. “We should go. Leave. We should just get on your bike, ride away, and never look back.”

  “Run away?”

  She shrugged. “Beats the alternative.”

  “I won't lie, it's crossed my mind a few times.”

  “Maybe we should do it.”

  Damon nodded and looked at the woods around us. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “We can go somewhere far away,” she said, hope in her voice. “We can get jobs or something. Live a completely different life.”

  He took her by the hand and started leading her back toward the hotel. Continuing to walk around in the woods wasn't going to do any good. She had no idea where the bag was hidden and being out there, continuing to fail at finding her path, was only stressing her out. Damon thought maybe it was time they actually start discussing and planning alternatives. Maybe he really was going to have to leave Kingston.

  As they walked, Damon told himself it would be okay. As long as he had Cassie by his side, everything would be fine. They'd build a new life. He didn't know how, but they'd manage. They'd be okay.

  They had just stepped out of the forest and were walking across the field toward the parking lot of the hotel where he'd left his bike when Cassie stopped. Damon turned to look at her and she started laughing.

  “Are you okay?”

  She shook her head. “How could I be so stupid?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She doubled over, her laughter becoming nearly hysterical. When she looked at him, Damon saw an inscrutable expression on her face. Eventually, she was able to get herself back under control. She stood up and caught her breath, wiping away the tears of laughter that had leaked from her eyes.

  “Are you having some sort of psychotic break or something?”

  “How could I have been so stupid?” she asked.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The tracker,” she said and pressed her hand to her forehead. “With everything that was going on, I compl
etely forgot about the tracker.”

  Damon looked at her, confused. “What tracker?”

  “The one Andy hid in my purse,” she said. “I stashed it in the bag the night Carl gave it to me.”

  His confusion turned to hope and then to excitement. “Seriously?”

  She was nodding vigorously. “Yes, yes! I can't believe how stupid I am! I totally forgot!”