Delta_Ricochet

by Cristin Harber

  Adelia pushed away, sliding from his warm arms, off the bed and snagged her boots.

  “Hang on a minute.”

  She put her hand up, unable to tell him no.

  “Wait. Damn it, Adelia!”

  Like hell she was waiting. He thought she’d grown up to be a trafficker? Adelia flew down the stairs with her boots in hand, grabbing her duffel bag, purse, and sweatshirt at the bottom of the stairs as she heard Colin’s curses and his feet hit the ground.

  “Stay in bed.” He was going to kill himself! She threw open the door and a brown paper bag, likely filled with more of his medicines, sat waiting like it was a grocery delivery and not an antibiotic care package from a rogue task force of pharmacists. She grabbed it and spun. “Take your medicine and get back in bed!”

  He was halfway down the stairs. “Where the hell are you going?”

  No idea. But she’d never been so hurt, and blinded by angry tears, she threw the medicine bag and rushed out the door.

  A new car sat in the driveway, probably with the keys in the ignition, and her anger turned to exasperation. How could a man who lived like this assume the worst in her?

  Still with her boots in hand, Adelia ran down the sidewalk, only slowing to glance over her shoulder. Colin stood on the front porch, hand on his side, and guilt nearly made her turn back, but he had it in him to believe the worst in her.

  She paused long enough to tug on her boots before cutting into the neighbor’s yard and hopping the fence. When she was out of sight, Adelia changed direction and sprinted several houses down where she cowered underneath the spider web-covered side of a deck enclosure with her heart slamming in her chest.

  She didn’t trust anyone, not to take out Gloria Astor or to keep the Mayhem women alive. But she needed help. A plan. She was running low on money, didn’t have access to a phone or was too worried to grab a car.

  Calling Seven or Victoria would put them in a bad position with the club and maybe the men they cared about, and she’d done enough to hurt Tex. She couldn’t ask more from Lenora.

  Kids’ voices filled the air, and Adelia went cold. Her eyes searched the yard, and then the deck above her shook as though she were under a stampede. But only two little boys jumped off the deck, and half-tackled, half-kicked their way around the backyard with a soccer ball. She flattened herself to the ground and prayed she blended in with dirt.

  Every time the ball strayed her way, her heart skipped beats, and she was sure multiple years were shaved off her life. Then the ball rolled between two trees. Clearly, it was a goal for the younger of the two brothers, and the little guy’s happy dance was cute.

  “No way! That’s a foul ball!” The older kid stomped over. “That’s out.”

  Adelia’s lip curled. What the hell? Not fair.

  The little kid wasn’t taking his brother’s cheating and stomped back. Silently, Adelia cheered for the underdog, and the little argument devolved into shouting—then pushing. But the little one wasn’t as scrawny as he looked. He gave as good as he took, and the next thing Adelia knew, both boys were on the ground, rolling around, and she panicked that they’d see her hiding—the deck door flew open above her.

  “Boys!” A mother’s voice snapped. “Cut. It. Out.”

  Both kids hit their feet so fast Adelia snort-laughed.

  “Dust yourselves off.”

  Their little hands brushed side to side on their knees and moved to their bottoms then up to their elbows and backs.

  “Now shake it out,” the mom ordered.

  The two little dudes shook hands, and not a slam of the back door later, they were back to kicking the soccer ball as though there hadn’t been a brawl. The mom wasn’t that concerned, and the kids had moved on. It was very Mayhem-like, but it stayed with her as she watched them play. That was life with a normal family? Little kids fought and got over it… Big brothers pushed buttons, little brothers tested their big ones, and—

  “Goal!” The big brother ran circles around his little brother, but it was the ball that had gone through the same trees as before that caught Adelia’s eye as the little kid jumped up and down in excitement.

  They were siblings, and they’d worked it out. A longing for that kind of love and acceptance lodged in her chest until Adelia decided to roll from under the deck, not caring if the kids saw her.

  They did, and she waved as they stopped to stare at her walking through their backyard.

  “What are you doing, lady?” the older brother yelled.

  “Heading to call my brother.” She grinned. Javier might be just the person she needed to trust because that’s what siblings did. They picked each other up when they were down.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The houses matched, down to the patterns in the grass that Adelia could play a mental game of Tic Tac Toe on. It was as though each homeowner used the same lawn service, on the same schedule, and their grass was mowed to crisscross in the same way.

  Mayhem didn’t do that. They didn’t think about grass patterns, and Adelia hadn’t until she walked down the sidewalk and kicked an imaginary rock with her boot. Not even a rogue weed managed to survive.

  How did they cut the grass at the compound? New recruits did it— obviously. It wasn’t like Tex or Hawke got out a mower. Guys like Skull would fall over dead from a heart attack if they had to walk too far or move anything too heavy.

  Man, she missed those guys… She laughed at how quickly those old men could move if they needed to fight. Even the most cumbersome, aging biker still had a good brawl in him. That was why she knew that she would be okay. Tex hadn’t raised her to die.

  She spotted a park ahead and jaywalked across the street. Never once in her life had she thought about waiting for a crosswalk until today. Adelia wasn’t even sure how she knew the term jaywalking. Children’s laughter and playground equipment meant strollers and chatting mothers, and that was another thing that Tex had taught her. Mothers with young children were easy targets. They needed to be protected, but they were also a source of resources.

  Today, it was time to get a little help from the ladies.

  A row of strollers haphazardly waited by picnic tables with purses, diaper bags, water bottles, and snacks strewn about. Adelia passed them and eyeballed what was available before looping back toward the row of strollers and pocketing a cell phone that sat in a cup holder.

  She dialed Javier’s cell number as she walked toward a picnic table and prayed he would answer. If he didn’t, she would try Sophia. He could be on a job, or maybe… There were a hundred reasons why he wouldn’t answer an unknown number.

  She casually sat on the bench then lifted the phone as he picked up.

  “Oh, thank God you answered,” Adelia interrupted his hello.

  “Adelia, where are you? With Colin?”

  “Not quite.”

  Did Javier know his teammate had been shot? Or perhaps everything Delta did was under a cone of silence. That wasn’t how Mayhem worked. Everybody knew everyone’s business, which was why what she had pulled off with skimming money and creating a network of old ladies to do bidding against the interest of the club was nearly impossible to imagine. “I need your help.”

  “Why can’t Colin help you?”

  “He can’t.”

  “He’s closer to you then I am.”

  “But I called you.”

  “I’m in the middle of a job, Adelia. What’s the problem?”

  “You’re my brother. I trust you,” she whispered.

  Seconds ticked by, but she could tell the call hadn’t been dropped.

  “Javier?”

  “You. Trust. Him—”

  “I tried, and it didn’t work.”

  “What the hell do you mean, you tried? Trust only him. Do you understand me?”

  “Javier,” she pleaded. “Listen to me. I tried. He’s not listening. And neither are you.”

  All she needed was blind trust. But that was too much to ask.

  “Whatev
er the problem is, get over it. Colin will keep you safe from Mayhem.”

  “Colin wasn’t shot by Mayhem! There’s someone else. I know who it is, and I tried to explain to him, but he won’t listen.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” She dropped her head into her hand, rubbing her forehead. “It’s someone you work with.”

  Once again, Javier didn’t respond, and this time Adelia pulled back the phone back to see if the call was still connected. “Are you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” He cleared his throat “I don’t know what you got yourself into, who you’re messed up with, but if we’re dealing with an associate of Titan, you’ve got big problems.”

  She pinched her eyes closed. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Drop the phone, Adelia. Run back to Colin. If someone is looking for you, I’m the first person they’d wait for you to call, and this is an unsecured line.”

  “But—”

  “We’ve been talking too long. Just run.”

  His tone gripped the last calm nerve she’d had been holding. Adelia stood up, her plans to slip the phone back to the stroller long gone as it slipped from her fingers and hit the grass. She sprinted toward the safe house, hating how she hadn’t—or couldn’t—see what was safe or right anymore.

  Everyone wanted her dead, and she wanted only to commit one heinous, humanitarian act before she died: kill Gloria to keep her from trafficking again.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Sweat poured down Adelia’s back. Her boots weighed more with each stride. The final block was ahead, and it gave her renewed strength to run faster. Every time she looked over her shoulder, Adelia nearly tripped, and if anyone saw her tearing down the suburban streets, they’d likely call the cops.

  Her instincts were off. Did she even have them to start? Her life revolved around motorcycle tailpipes and bourbon-fueled compound parties. She knew enough about banking and technology to get herself killed, but she wasn’t sly like Victoria with her private investigating skills or a master of motorcycle gang politics like Seven. Nope. Adelia was good with a gun and swift to serve up liquor. She had a vendetta to avenge, and that was it.

  Two houses away from the safe house, and she downgraded her jog to an uneasy, dragging trot with her arms hanging loose and her breath gasping, and she stared at the house to be sure it was the correct one. The new car was gone. Colin had left? Was he searching for her or just gone? Who would blame him for leaving…? She wouldn’t. She’d done enough to drive him away.

  Hell, she had issued a threat against one of his clients. Maybe he was headed back to Delta to share what she had said.

  Semi-hopefully but having no reason to be, she stepped up to the front door and tried the handle. Locked. She banged on the door then tried the doorbell and went back to knocking and banging. “Colin! Hey!”

  No answer.

  Exhausted and out of ideas, Adelia leaned against the door and let her face smoosh against the smooth wood. Back and forth, she slapped the door. Pathetic, exhausted tears threatened to make an appearance.

  She and Gloria Astor had a game of cat and mouse, and Gloria Astor was going to win. Her person had shot Colin, and now, they were smart enough to track her phone call to Javier down while she had nowhere to go but outside an abandoned safe house.

  Maybe she deserved to die. Too many stupid mistakes.

  Adelia thumped her head against the door. No. If she was going to die, Mayhem should kill her, not Gloria Astor. Adelia had done too much to survive trafficking to fall dead to a trafficker’s bullet.

  She thumped her head harder.

  “If you keep hitting your head, that will be one ugly goose egg.”

  Adelia spun, adrenaline kicking self-pity down several notches, and she put up her hands like she might block a blow. At least she now knew that—staring at the unknown man—no matter how deep in the pits of pity she might go, her fighting spirit would jump up when needed.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you, Adelia.”

  “Who are you?” Her hands lowered an inch.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  Maybe she recognized the man before, but maybe not. He wasn’t anyone she’d ever met. His warm mahogany brown eyes, just a shade lighter than his skin, were too memorable to have been close and not remembered. His aura should have screamed danger, but he conveyed a charismatic trust without even offering a smile.

  “I’m sorry—” Her voice cracked as Javier’s reminder to trust no one surfaced in her mind. She cleared her throat. “I just locked myself out.” He took a confident stride forward, and Adelia tried to step back, simply bumping into the house again. “You’re not looking for me.”

  “I’d like to talk to you.”

  Her fingernails scratched against the door. “No thank you.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you—”

  “That’s never the most believable conversation opener. You should go.” Then thinking better of it, she went back to her original story, not like that really mattered. “My husband will be home soon with my keys. Any second, really. I’m just locked out.”

  “We need to talk before Colin gets back.”

  She couldn’t form words. Her mouth fell open before her mind caught up, and she stuttered, “How do you—who—please leave.”

  “I don’t want to scare you, and like I said, I am not here to hurt you. I simply want to talk to you.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Deacon Lanes.” He walked the remaining distance between them.

  “Mr. Lanes.” All the trust she’d felt before was gone now that she could extend her arm and touch his broad chest. It was as though he’d been capable of creating an emotional mirage.

  “Deacon is fine—” He twisted and roughly backed her to the door. “Go home. This conversation isn’t with you.”

  “What?” Adelia pushed against his back, pinned to the doorframe.

  “Adelia, baby,” Colin called. “Come here.”

  “She’s not going anywhere.” Deacon’s weight shifted as his stance changed. “Are you, Adelia?”

  “Get off me!” But pushing against him was like lifting a mountain, and the man didn’t budge. She gave up and awkwardly remained stuck.

  Deacon torso shifted, and his arms lifted, and Adelia could move but didn’t because of two quiet clicks that screamed in her ears. She’d know those sounds anywhere. They’d been drilled into her repeatedly, a life lesson from Tex. He made sure she would always be ready for guns to fire. Not daring to breathe, she refused to tremble at Deacon’s shooter’s stance, knowing that Colin had a weapon pointed her way.

  “Don’t listen to anything he says,” Deacon whispered.

  “Let her go,” Colin commanded.

  “To you? Fat fucking chance.”

  Deacon was protecting her from Colin?

  But neither man backed down. How was this possible?

  “You don’t know who this guy is, Adelia.” Colin stepped forward. “He’s not your friend.”

  “And you are?” Deacon ordered. “Whose detail were you on? What about Javier?”

  “You know my brother?” she asked.

  “Ask him,” Deacon snapped.

  “What is Javier doing?”

  “Don’t.” Colin angled closer. “Listen to anything he says.”

  “Gloria Astor,” Deacon answered. “Colin and Javier. The two people you trust most are running the show.”

  That couldn’t be true. She was an asset. Colin had said as much. But they weren’t actively working with her? Were they the ones sent to stop her? “Who told you where I was?”

  “Your Pops is worried about you,” Deacon tacked on.

  “Have you talked to him?” She inched closer to Deacon as Colin’s face pinched. “Did he…”

  “Ask me to help?” Deacon finished.

  “Don’t listen to that bastard,” Colin growled. “Nothing he says is true.”

  “How close are you
with Gloria Astor?” she shouted.

  His jaw ticked, snarling at Deacon. “You are a dead man.”

  “Obviously not.”

  “You can’t kill him for telling me the truth!” She dropped her head, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them, the bulge at the back of Deacon’s back caught her eye, and she moved before logic could prevail, pulling his shirt up and grabbing a Glock’s grip.

  “Don’t do that.” Deacon lowered his weapon as though he feared her more than Colin. “No good will come from whatever you’re thinking.”

  “I want to leave. That’s it.” She backed from him, and Deacon put a hand in the air but didn’t holster his sidearm. “Drop it.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “No.”

  “You know things that don’t make sense, and I know how and why.”

  She paused. What kind of things? Why Silvio thought Mayhem was shadier than they were? Why Colin had been shot? Why her Pops told her to run. “Like what?”

  “Listen to me, Adelia,” Colin said. “You have no idea who this son of a bitch is.”

  “Then who is he!” She swung Colin’s way, not letting Deacon out of the corner of her eye.

  “Whatever he’s going to tell you is a lie,” Deacon pre-empted Colin. “A self-serving lie to keep you away from Gloria Astor.”

  “The last time anyone saw Deacon Lanes, he died a couple hours later,” Colin said.

  “Anyone?” Deacon chuckled. “Or is Delta getting rusty?”

  “Screw you, buddy.” Colin lifted his chin. “Adelia, gun down, and c ‘mere.”

  Adelia didn’t like guns. She might be handy on the trigger but that didn’t mean she wanted a show down in the Maryland suburbs.

  “I’m leaving—without either of you.”

  “No, you’re not,” Colin said.

  “Come on, Adelia.” Deacon holstered his gun. “I’ll explain everything on the way to see your dad.”

  My dad? Tex or Pops…

  “If we don’t roll, the cops are going to show up,” Colin tried. “Forget him.”

  But Colin thought she had it in her to sell people…