The Handler (Noir et Bleu Motorcycle Club #2)

by D. R. Graham

  I recognized the last name and when I realized who she was, I jerked back so she wasn’t touching my face. The Harleys got closer, and the crowd thickened around us again. She kept staring at me and asked me my name.

  Although I wanted to stay and ask her about whoever Martin was, I didn’t know if I could trust her. I needed to get Lincoln out of there. Without answering the woman’s question, I said to Lincoln, “Let’s go,” and pulled her hand.

  I made her hurry away, then I hailed a cab from the street corner. Before we got in the car, I watched which building Marie Josie went into so I could go back later without Lincoln. The bikers rode by without stopping. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned that they were N et B.

  I searched my phone to check which events were going on around the city. I knew if someone was tailing us, we wouldn’t be safe at the hotel unless we had the security team with us. Alone, our safest option was to be in a public place with tons of witnesses. “Centre Bell, s’il vous plait,” I said to the driver.

  Lincoln frowned and checked my expression. “Why are we going to the arena?”

  “To watch a hockey game. You can’t come to Montreal and not go see the Canadiens play.” I searched again to see if there were any news articles on the shooting in Miami Beach.

  “I don’t understand. I thought we were going to find out about,” she leaned in and whispered so the driver wouldn’t hear, “Fireball.”

  “I did.” I made eye contact with her. “His real last name is Dewalt.”

  Her forehead wrinkled as she processed what I meant. It only took a few seconds for it to click. “You think that woman is related to him?”

  “It’s possible.” I read the text that had just come through on my phone. It was from Mug:

  Get your ass back to the hotel and lay low.

  Lincoln sorted the pieces of the puzzle in her mind, then she said, “Shouldn’t we have asked her if she knows him?”

  “I couldn’t with all those people around. I’ll go back later without you.”

  “Even if she does know who he is, how would that help?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “The Noir et Bleu already know where he is, right? They aren’t taking care of it for a reason. Maybe you need to talk to Digger. Make him tell you.”

  “I’ve tried. He’s keeping me in the dark on purpose.” I loaded a news reel of the police scene from Miami and pressed play. It didn’t identify the victims. “I don’t know if I can trust him.”

  Her eyes widened in apprehension. “If you can’t trust him, who can we trust?”

  I exhaled the tension in my chest and glanced at her. “We’re on our own until I can figure everything out.” The third article I found identified the victims as members of the Boomslangs. I had to read it twice to make sure I saw it right. It didn’t make any sense why a Boomslangs member would take out two of his own brothers and walk away without even touching either one of us.

  Lincoln peeked at the article, then took my phone from my hand and read the entire thing before giving it back. “Maybe he’s not one of them,” she hypothesized.

  “He has a club tattoo. I’ve seen it.”

  We both sat silently thinking for three blocks. A Boomslang who killed other Boomslangs to protect Lincoln, and an entire club of Noir et Bleu who’ve had that Boomslang in their sights, but won’t kill him to protect me. Whatever the complication was, it must have been major.

  The cab pulled up in front of the arena. “Are we really here to watch a hockey game?” Lincoln asked me when we stepped onto the sidewalk and noticed all the Canadiens fans.

  “It’s the safest place for us to be. Nobody will try anything here and risk getting identified.”

  “I don’t know anything about hockey,” she said.

  “I’ll teach you. It’ll be fun. I promise.”

  Her eyes had a cunning sparkle as she schemed. “I’ll only go to a hockey game with you if you take me out for a nice dinner afterwards.”

  I stretched my arm across her shoulder. “Like, you want this to be a date?”

  She turned her head and mockingly sneered at me. “No. If you were going to take me on a date, we would not be going to a hockey game. We’d be going to the ballet.”

  I chuckled. “If you were taking me on a date, I’d want to go see the Canadiens play.”

  She rolled her eyes and smiled.

  My phone rang again before we reached the ticket booth. It was Cisco, and I knew he would keep calling or send someone to hunt me down, so I decided to just get it over with. “Yeah.”

  “Digger’s pissed that you’re not waiting for his orders.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m pissed that while I was following orders and waiting around for you guys to take care of things, we almost got killed.”

  “Wait for instructions. Keep your fucking phone on. And don’t leave town.” He hung up.

  “Who was that?” Lincoln asked.

  “Cisco. Let’s go. If we hurry, we’ll see a bit of the warm up.”

  “What did he say?” she asked as I slid my credit card through the silver tray at the ticket kiosk.

  “He just wanted to let me know that Digger wasn’t impressed with my publicity stunt. It might not be good for me.” We walked over and lined up outside the gate.

  “Like, he’s going to punish you or something?”

  “Or something.”

  She checked my expression, and although she seemed concerned, she didn’t say anything. We entered the arena and made our way to the seats—row one on the corner. As soon as we sat down, the people around us started to whisper. Eventually, one girl asked for an autograph and a line formed. Lincoln signed a few, but fortunately a security guard made everyone clear the aisle and go back to their seats.

  When we sat back down after the national anthem, Lincoln whispered, “Are you afraid?”

  I rested my arm across her shoulder. “Let’s not worry about that right now.”

  She sighed and bit her pinkie nail.

  The puck dropped, and I was almost able to forget about everything while I watched the game. Lincoln actually got into the action. She screeched when they body checked each other into the glass in front of us, she jumped up each time the wave came around, and she stuck her fingers in her mouth to produce a very respectable whistle when they scored. I laughed when she yelled at the Boston Bruins player, then high-fived the guy sitting behind us. After the whistle blew to end the second period, she sat down and rested her elbow on my shoulder. “I like hockey.”

  “I can see that. I told you it would be fun.”

  She rubbed her hands together expectantly. “Do you think there will be another fight? That was kind of exciting.”

  “Well, if there isn’t one on the ice, there will likely be a couple in the stands.”

  “What’s that?” She pointed at the Jumbotron. “A game?” The camera panned in on a couple, and the crowd cheered until they kissed. Then it moved and focused in on two more victims.

  “It’s the Kiss Cam. The people who get the biggest response from the crowd win something.”

  “Like a car?” she asked, stoked.

  “More like coupons to a sandwich shop.”

  She turned in her seat and jabbed my rib with her knuckle. “Will you kiss me for a sandwich?”

  “Nope. If the cameras pan in on us, I’ll be that one asshole who won’t kiss the girl.”

  She laughed and shoved my shoulder. “You’re mean.”

  I looked up and saw us on the big screen. We both looked stunned. The crowd egged us on. I didn’t want to be the asshole, so I smiled, leaned in, and kissed her. She seemed startled at first, but she recovered quickly and shifted in her seat to get closer to me. I slid my hand up toward her neck and curled my fingers to hold onto sections of her hair. When she parted her lips to kiss me back, my tongue touched hers, and I tasted the sweetness of the lemonade she’d been drinking. She ran her hand along my thigh and my heartbeat sped up to the point where my pulse twitched in m
y neck. I forgot we were in public until the crowd went wild. People around us cheered and whistled, so I opened my eyes. We were still on the Jumbotron with firework graphics exploding. Evidently, we won the Kiss Cam contest. Lincoln pulled away shyly. “I thought you were going to be the asshole.”

  I shrugged innocently as a promotions person showed up and gave us two-for-one coupons for a restaurant. I handed them to Lincoln. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were watery. Two seconds later, she started to cry and bolted out of her chair. She ran up the concrete stairs weaving through people who were returning to their seats for the third period.

  I swore under my breath, then chased after her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lincoln exited the arena and walked quickly along the concourse. I ran to catch up, clutched her by the elbow, and swung her around. “Sorry.”

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks and glared at me. “Sorry for what?”

  “For whatever I did to make you upset.”

  She shook her head in frustration and stormed off. I ran and lunged in front of her so she would have to stop walking.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You can’t apologize for something when you don’t even know what you did.”

  “I kissed you. I don’t know why you’re upset, but I’m still sorry.”

  She shoved my chest. “Why did you kiss me?”

  “Because I wanted to.”

  “Why did you want to? Your moods fluctuate worse than my mom’s. Yesterday, you were sweet and protective and it was obvious you want to be with me. Last night, you randomly turn into an asshole and try to ditch me. Now, we’re back to you kissing me and acting like you want to have a relationship. Do you really like me or was that Jumbotron thing a publicity stunt designed to provoke someone who wants you dead? Am I just part of your plan? A pawn in your stupid chess game vendetta?”

  “No.”

  “Why did you kiss me?” she yelled.

  I frowned and stepped back. After a few seconds, I closed my eyes and tried to make the words come out of my mouth.

  “It’s a simple question, Cain.”

  Yeah. It was a simple question, but she was Lincoln Todd. I was a nobody electrician who put her in danger just by knowing her. After a lot of effort, the only thing I could force out of my throat was, “Sorry.”

  “So, you’re just using me?”

  “No.” I sat down on the curb and crushed my hands against my skull like a vise.

  “It’s cruel to play with my feelings like that.” She choked back a sob, and it made me wince to hear it. “Why won’t you just tell me how you really feel? What are you so afraid of?”

  “Hurting you.”

  She stopped pacing and stood on the curb next to me. “You’re already hurting me, James.”

  When I didn’t respond, she stepped into the lane and hailed a cab. I shouted as I sprung to my feet. She got in and slammed the door without waiting for me. The car carried her down the street, then turned at the intersection and disappeared. I hailed the next cab that drove by and made him speed to tail her. We caught up three blocks down and followed them to the hotel. I gave her time to enter the lobby first so she wouldn’t know I was right behind her. I hung out near the rotating door and watched as she crossed the foyer toward the elevators. Her head was down, texting, as she stepped in alone and the doors slid closed.

  I sat down at one of the guest computers near the front desk. A minute later, my phone rang with a call from Tim.

  “Why did Lincoln just request security duty at a three star hotel in downtown Montreal?” he asked.

  “She thinks she’s alone, but I’m here. I’m in the lobby.”

  “What the fuck’s going on, Cain?”

  “If I knew, I’d tell you.”

  “I’ll be there in an hour. Don’t leave her alone.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed and hung up. At least he still trusted me enough to keep her safe until he showed up. I wasn’t sure I had the same faith in my ability to do that. The situation was too complicated, and there were too many gaping holes in the facts to be able to make an informed decision.

  The woman on the street in my old neighborhood had said I reminded her of Martin. I wondered if that was Frenchie’s real name, so I typed Martin Dewalt, Montreal, and Boomslangs into the search engine on the computer screen. An entire list of articles came up. I started with the first one and made my way down. One of the originating members of the Boomslangs was named Martin Dewalt. He was charged with murder before I was born and sentenced to twenty years in prison. Based on the dates in the article, he would have been released sometime in the last twelve months.

  Digger must have known him personally from their Montreal days, which meant my dad would have known him, too. Obviously, that had something to do with the complication that was keeping him alive. I read more articles trying to find a link between my dad and Martin Dewalt that would explain why the first thing he did after being released from prison was hunt my dad down, put a bullet in his head, and set him on fire. I couldn’t find anything that mentioned my dad or Digger.

  I scribbled notes of what I did know on the back of a brochure and stared at them looking for a pattern. Martin Dewalt. Founding Boomslangs’ P. Hit Southpaw with two Boomslangs. Bombed tour bus in attempt to kill Lincoln. Ordered Boomslangs to kidnap Huck. Killed two Boomslangs to protect Lincoln.

  It didn’t make any sense, unless I was wrong about at least half of it. The only thing I knew for sure was that I needed to find out more about Dewalt. I needed to visit Marie Josie, and in order to do that, I needed everyone else to believe I was with Lincoln. I phoned Tim and asked him to make the arrangements.

  Then I phoned Huck. She answered but still wasn’t speaking.

  “Hey,” I said and exhaled the built up stress. “I know you’re probably mad at me for not coming home yet. I want to see you, but I need to handle a few more things before I can leave. You’ll be safe with Grandma and Grandpa until I get there.” I closed my eyes to brace against the guilt that tore my heart into shreds. “I miss you, and I love you.”

  Before she hung up, she whispered, “Be good.” She said it so quietly I could barely hear her.

  After meeting with Tim in the lobby, I went up to the hotel room. Lincoln was asleep on the bed, fully clothed on top of the covers. Her breathing was soft and steady. Her hands were clasped like a child praying. She looked peaceful. I kissed her forehead and pulled the blanket over her shoulder, then I crashed on the couch.

  In the morning, she was already awake and sitting cross-legged on the bed when I woke up. “You came back,” she said softly.

  I sat up with my elbows resting on my knees and rubbed my face. “I wasn’t the one who took off. You were.”

  “I didn’t take off. I just needed a break. How would you feel if you found out that someone you care about is only using you?”

  “I’m not using you.”

  “So, are you ready to admit that you kissed me because you have feelings for me?”

  I exhaled in a stressful way and stood up. “Can we talk about this sometime when it’s not first thing in the morning and we don’t have a million other things to worry about?”

  “No.”

  I turned and faced her. “What do you want me to say? It’s obvious that I care about you. I wouldn’t be here trying to protect you if I didn’t care about you.”

  “I don’t need you to protect me. I have a security team for that.” She stood and crossed the room. “And if I wanted to go around and kiss random guys with no strings attached, I’m sure there would be a line of volunteers.”

  That comment stung. Even though I knew she said it to make a point, the thought of her kissing anyone else bothered me. A lot.

  “I want more than that,” she continued. “I think I deserve more than that. Don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said emphatically. Without a doubt, I believed she deserved more. I held her hand and made her sit down on the couch next to me.
“Okay, I’m going to be completely honest with you.”

  Her eyes widened in a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

  I took a deep breath and licked my lips before I said, “I want to be with you. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  She smiled at my declaration, and her fingers tightened around mine.

  I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers tenderly before I continued. “Every single minute of the day I want to kiss you. The fact that I’ve been able to mostly hold myself back is a miracle. You have no idea how hard I’ve had to work to resist you. And yeah, I’ve been making up excuses, but it’s not because I’m scared to be with you. It’s because I’m scared to fall for you and then lose you.”

  Her mouth curved into a sympathetic pout. “Why would you lose me?”

  “You travel for a living. I have a little sister to take care of. How are we—”

  A knock on the door interrupted us. She glanced at me with wide eyes and whispered, “I didn’t call room service.”

  “It’s probably Tim.” I slapped my face a few times trying to shift gears in my brain as I walked over to open the door. Aaron and Stan stood shoulder to shoulder wearing all black. “Hey, come on in. Where’s Tim?”

  They stepped in the room, and they both nodded at Lincoln. “He’s trying to track down what you requested.”

  “Okay. Good. Thanks.” I bent over to whisper to Lincoln, “I want to be with you. We can talk about how we can make that happen after this mess is behind us. Okay?”

  She nodded, but her expression made it seem like she wasn’t convinced she should have agreed.

  I went to have a shower.

  When I returned, Lincoln was still cross-legged on the bed. Aaron and Stan were on the couch. There was another knock at the door. Stan got up and answered it. It was Tim with a six-foot, dark-haired guy in his early twenties. He was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket like me. “Cain, meet Cain. AKA Steve,” Tim said. I shook Steve’s hand, and he discretely handed me a gun that I tucked into the inside pocket of my jacket.

  Tim greeted Lincoln, then I moved to sit down beside her on the bed. She shifted to hug her knees into her chest. I gently bumped my shoulder into hers to try to get her to relax. “It’s okay.”