Wild Ways

by Tina Wainscott

  Luckily, none saw Julian and Mollie tucked beside the evergreens. She wiped her eyes as she watched them cruise by, obviously looking for an address. Brick’s address.

  “They’re after Mikey, too,” Julian said. “Because he has information that’ll help us and bury them. I’m going to cut through the backyards and get to his house before they do. Stay here.”

  She started to object to being left behind, but he was already gone, sprinting between the bordering shrubs to the next yard. He took the backyard route, jumping over fences and running so fast that one rottweiler had only just noticed him before Julian was out of its territory. He recognized Brick’s uncle’s side yard as he approached, slowing to assess the situation. Not a good idea to jump over the fence and find a King standing there with his gun ready.

  The rumble of engines in idle thrummed through the air. Along with the sound of someone knocking loudly on a door. “Hey, Brick!”

  Something caught Julian’s eye, a fleeting shadow, but he knew it was Brick slipping over the back of the fence. Julian ran around the side. No sign of him. He raced past the houses that backed up to the uncle’s street, searching for the escapee. How could a guy the size of Brick just disappear? He must know this neighborhood well. Probably had his bike stashed somewhere else.

  As probable confirmation of that, Julian heard a Harley fire up in the distance. By the time he burst out onto the street, he caught the distant silhouette of a scared man hauling ass. Julian ran back to Mollie. They’d lost Brick, but he wasn’t about to lose the Kings.

  Chapter 9

  Fortunately Mollie didn’t have to face Julian after her breakdown; only his back as they rode. What the hell was that about anyway? Was his presence and support making her soft? Needy? No, she couldn’t let that happen. Any minute now he was going to get called away on a paying mission. Or lose interest. She knew how weary this search could make someone, especially with all the dead ends.

  It was hard to dredge up hope as they followed the two Kings at a safe distance. She tried to get a good look at the woman on the back of one of the bikes, but her helmet obscured everything but the reddish ponytail. It was about the right length, if Di hadn’t cut her hair since she left. Her build was similar, though scrawnier.

  Eventually the Kings pulled into a Walmart and parked way off to the side of the lot. They removed their helmets, but the woman wore a black bandanna. The men lit up smokes.

  “Is it her?” Julian asked as they idled in another part of the lot.

  Mollie bit her lip, concentrating so hard that she wondered if she was imagining Diana’s pert nose and full lips. “I can’t tell from here, especially with the sunglasses and bandana. It’s probably not her, and yet, if I didn’t make sure, I’d always wonder.”

  The woman started heading toward the entrance.

  “Let me go in,” Mollie said. “I have to find out.”

  Julian seemed to consider it, which was rather annoying. She was used to making her own decisions. Not that she was complaining about his being there. If it weren’t for him she’d be dead. Or worse. It was an adjustment, that’s all. A nice adjustment, but still…

  “All right, but be careful. And keep your phone handy. If it’s not her, you can’t ask about your sister. Even though she’s not with the Oklahoma City chapter, she may know what happened. Their people were shot at, maybe killed. It’ll no doubt be the talk of the whole club. They’re going to be watching for us. Besides, you know she won’t say a word even if she does know where Di is.”

  “I won’t ask about Di.” It would be hard not to, but she understood.

  “I’ll watch the patches. When she comes back out, follow right behind her but break in our direction as soon as you exit. I don’t want to lose their tail. Don’t let the patches see you talking to her.” He brushed her hair back from her forehead. “Buy a hat before you approach her. You have a distinctive hair color.” He started to extract his wallet but she stilled him with her hand on his arm.

  “I have some money.” She started trekking across the parking lot, not wanting to fall too far behind the woman. Her phone rang when she hit the midway point of the parking lot. The screen read Detective Boyd, which tightened her throat. Don’t hope, don’t hope. “This is Mollie,” she answered, keeping from immediately following with Did you find her?

  “It’s Detective Boyd. I wanted to check in on you, see how things were going. No more shootouts, I hope.”

  “Just following leads in St. Louis. Have you found anything on your end?”

  “Afraid not. Are you still with Mr. Cuevas?”

  She kept an eye on the woman, who had bent down to pick up a coin. “Yes, why?”

  “Are you free to talk?”

  “I’m not with him at the moment, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Has he asked for money or anything in return for his assistance?”

  “Just the opposite. He’s been paying for everything.” And he’d offered her pleasure without asking for anything in return, but she sure wasn’t going to mention that.

  “Good. But I still want you to be on guard. I did a little investigating, verified that he is indeed a SEAL. My cousin is one, too, so I touched base with him. Remember when I said his edge went beyond the norm? Cuevas and his team were abruptly discharged from service. They were involved in an unprovoked attack on a compound in Mexico. He wouldn’t say much about it, but I did some checking based on that. It was in the news a couple of months ago, a team went rogue and killed innocent people. Including women and children. You might’ve seen it on the news.”

  Mollie paused at that, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I haven’t been paying attention to much in the last few months. My life has pretty much revolved around my sister. Are you saying that Julian is dangerous?”

  “Well, I think that’s obvious. The real question is, is he dangerous to you? I can’t answer that. Has he acted volatile? On edge?”

  “Not at all.” She entered the store a few yards behind the biker woman. “He’s been …” Amazing. Tender. Arousing. Yes, definitely dangerous to her heart, anyway. “A gentleman. Responsible, protective.” He’d also been evasive about his military career. She could remember at least one time that he’d skirted the topic.

  “I have the utmost respect for our guys in the military,” Boyd said. “But they’ve been through a lot. Killing people, getting shot at, it changes a man. I wish you’d call off your search and go home. At least break off with him. He might be responsible now, but something could trigger him.”

  Mollie remembered Julian’s nightmare and how he’d been about to reach for his gun. Just as he’d warned her. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll be careful. I have to go.” She disconnected but kept her phone in hand per Julian’s instructions.

  He knew everything about her, but he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her about this mission. She clung to that, and the fact that she probably shouldn’t trust him either. It felt much better than the longing to be in his arms again. To be held … and more.

  Mollie spotted the woman, who was heading toward the automotive section. Her gait wasn’t quite like Di’s, but she couldn’t give up hope. She made a quick side trip toward a clearance bin with floppy fabric hats. After putting one on and tucking the tag up under the brim, she headed over in that direction.

  People gave the biker woman a wide berth and judging stares. She didn’t seem particularly bothered by it. She wore a black vest, too, and a patch announced that she was the property of Fat Bob. The thought of being considered property made Mollie shudder. She stepped around the end of the aisle and felt her heart thud at the sight of the woman perusing the shelves. Mollie pasted on a neutral expression and purposefully grabbed one of the packages of spark plugs.

  The woman glanced up but shifted her gaze back to the many types of motor oil. Not Di. Mollie’s heart sank despite her preparations for disappointment. This woman was in her thirties, Mollie guessed, and looked road weary. Her face appeared much older,
her skin pocked and sallow. The hair color was clearly a dye job.

  It was so damned hard not to ask her about Di. But another inquiry pushed at her that wasn’t directly related to Di. Mollie moved closer. “Excuse me, can I ask you something?”

  The woman seemed surprised that anyone was talking to her. Surprised and wary. “You can ask.” Her voice was rough and gravelly, and she smelled like cigarettes.

  “My sister joined a biker’s club a few months ago. I tried to talk her out of it, because I didn’t—don’t—understand these clubs. It’s put a rift between us, and we haven’t talked in several weeks.” Her gaze went to the “property of” patch. “I’m trying to understand the appeal of being considered property.”

  The woman’s mouth tightened. “You really need to talk to her ’bout it.”

  “I don’t know where she is.” It didn’t take acting for tears to spring to Mollie’s eyes. “When we talk again, I want to understand so I don’t push her away.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as emotion crept in. “Tell me you’re treated well and that you’re happy. She’s all I have in the world, and I miss her so much.”

  The woman seemed to consider Mollie for a few seconds, and then her hard mouth twitched at the corner. “Don’t cry, girlie. Look, it ain’t paradise and I ain’t treated like a queen. But now that I’ve worked my way up the ladder, so to speak, to being one of the guys’ ol’ lady, it’s all right. And it ain’t a mean title; it’s actually a term of respect.” She patted her patch. “This is a badge of honor. I belong. I have value. See, all my life no one wanted me. Maybe I get hit once in a while, but I belong. And no one outside this club can touch me.” She pointed to her chest now, pride in her voice. “I have the protection of the entire Kings of Chaos behind me.”

  Mollie got it. She didn’t want to, despite what she’d told the woman. She did want to understand, but she didn’t want to understand, to feel exactly what this woman longed for and was willing to give up to obtain. That she did unnerved her.

  Mollie took a chance and reached out to gently touch the woman’s arm. “Thank you for explaining it. I get it. We all want to belong to someone.” But no, Mollie didn’t. She’d numbed herself to that need. Don’t think of Julian holding you all night.

  The woman narrowed her eyes as she looked at Mollie. “Is your sister with the Kings? ’Cause we had a girl come through who looked a lot like you.”

  Mollie’s heart thundered. The woman didn’t appear to be hostile or alarmed, so Mollie took a chance. “She’s called Birdy.”

  The woman seemed to search her memory, and her expression became guarded. “I only saw her once, maybe twice. She was passing through.” She started to turn away.

  Mollie grabbed her shoulder, not a delicate gesture this time. “Please. Tell me what happened to her. I need to know. I don’t want you to get in trouble. If you could just tell me something that might help me find her, I’d be so grateful.”

  The woman seemed at war with herself, her helpful nature versus her need for self-preservation. Finally she said, “She’s gone.”

  Before she could move away, Mollie tightened her grip. “What does that mean?”

  She huffed out a breath. “Sometimes girls get traded from chapter to chapter when they aren’t claimed.” She touched her patch again.

  “Traded?” Mollie could barely utter the word. “Traded for what?”

  The woman shrugged. “Drugs. A bike or parts.”

  The thought of that horrified her. “What happens to them?”

  “They work in the strip clubs, stay high all the time. Eventually their spirits get broken. It’s too late, girlie. I’d drop your search if you want to stay alive.” This time she wrenched away from Mollie’s grip and headed away.

  Mollie couldn’t move for a few moments, struck by that terrible image. She’d heard in her research that the clubs made some of their women work in those kind of bars to support them. Some were forced into prostitution. Mollie broke out of her panic and moved toward the front of the store. She did a self-checkout and bought her hat. Just before the woman was about to step outside, Mollie caught up with her. “One more question and I promise I’ll leave you alone. Where are these strip clubs?”

  “I can’t tell you that.” Fear shadowed her eyes. “You go snooping around and it comes out that I sent you, I’ll end up in Chicago, too.” She hurried off, and Mollie wondered if she realized she’d given away the answer.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of those community bulletin boards. Mollie usually kept a folded supply of pages with Di’s picture on her. She found an available corner and tacked the page to it. That’s when she saw a second missing poster, yet another young woman who had last been seen hitchhiking in the area. Mollie took a picture with her cell phone and ran out a few yards behind the biker woman. She slowed her pace and, as Julian had instructed, headed his way.

  Everything she’d just heard, from both the detective and the biker woman, turned her stomach and tore her heart. More so seeing Julian standing sentry, the sun on his glossy dark hair. She had the insane urge to simply fall into his arms, so she forced herself to stop a couple of feet in front of him. “We don’t need to follow them anymore. I know where Di might be.” She relayed the conversation as the bikes rolled out of the parking lot. She did not mention the detective’s call.

  “Strip clubs in Chicago,” Julian said thoughtfully. “I wonder how many of them there are. We can probably rule out the nicer ones.”

  “Are there actually nice strip clubs?”

  He chuckled. “Sure. The team went to one overseas that required a suit and tie. We didn’t get in.” He didn’t look terribly disappointed.

  “There was another poster on the bulletin board.” She showed him on her phone. “A different girl than the ones we saw at the Inn.”

  He studied the picture. “She disappeared around the same time, though. There’s definitely a pattern.”

  “Like a serial killer?”

  “Could be. I want to pin it on the Kings, but we have to keep an open mind. Let’s grab a bite and update Chase.”

  * * *

  Julian definitely liked the outdoors. He zeroed in on one of those off-the-side-of-the-road “restaurants” that was little more than a trailer with a smattering of umbrella-covered picnic tables. Beyond it the woods reminded her of the peace she’d felt at the Devil’s Inn.

  This venue was called Hot Dog Louie’s, boasting every regional specialty of hot dog. As Julian wolfed down a deep-fried dog smothered in chili and cheese, he laid out a wrinkled map and noted where they knew the Kings had a chapter. Then he put stars where each of the three girls had gone missing.

  His second dog was completely different, on a poppy seed–covered bun with tomato slices and hot peppers. His third, yet another variation, was smothered in coleslaw. Apparently he liked to make noise when he ate, too, emitting soft groans of pleasure that reminded her of the night before. Reminded her too much, apparently, as she felt an odd blip of pleasure between her legs. She forced her attention to her own single, ketchup-lined hot dog.

  He finished the last of his dog, licked his fingers, and wiped his hands on a napkin. “Three girls disappear on the route between the two known chapters. I’m liking them for it.”

  “This is getting worse. You think they’re kidnapping women to put to work in their clubs?”

  “They may not be kidnapping them. Like with your sister, these women are probably looking for something. Like that biker chick said, they need to belong. It’s a strong urge. At heart, we’re pack animals. We need camaraderie, connection.” Sexual intimacy. Somehow she heard that as clearly as though he’d said it.

  “Not me. I think sometimes you shut that part down.” But his fingers on her, his body wrapped around her all night …

  “You need to help people. That’s your way of connecting.”

  She knew there was no point in denying it, even though she was annoyed at how bluntly he’d pointed it out. “I guess
it fulfills something in me. It makes me feel valuable, like she said.”

  He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, drawing his finger slowly down her skin. “You don’t need to save anyone to be valuable, mami. You are enough just as you are.”

  She fought not to melt into him at those words, spoken so genuinely. She moved back, afraid she’d lean closer. “I guess I’ll owe you for the psychotherapy, too.”

  “ ‘Too?’ ”

  “I am going to pay you back for everything you’ve spent.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I do.” She stood, needing to put more distance between them. She would pay him back every dime he’d spent when she got back to her life and found another job. The prospect of that seemed like a distant dream.

  He shook his head slowly, as though he couldn’t figure her out. Though it sure seemed that he’d figured her out too much. “You’re only comfortable if you’re the one doing the rescuing.”

  “Is that what you’re doing? Rescuing me?”

  “I’m helping you find your sister. But honestly, you drew me from that first minute I saw you at the gas station. Before I knew a thing about you.”

  “Ah, the white knight complex. Now I can analyze you.”

  He seemed to consider that, but shook his head. “I’ve watched that dynamic in my family all my life. There are certain members who are constantly in need of rescue and others who are constantly trying to rescue them. My grandfather helped to set me straight when I started to fall into that pattern with my girlfriend. He pulled me aside and talk sense into me.”

  “Susana?”

  “Yeah. She started using coke when her parents divorced. I probably tried all the things you did with your sister, controlling her, looking through her purse. I felt like a damned cop. My abuelo sat me down in my despair and told me that sometimes you have to let go, or else you’ll drown.” His mouth turned down into a frown. “I miss having him around to consult. He passed on a couple of years ago. Sometimes he was my island in a sea of insanity.”