Filthy Ride: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Iron Bones MC) (Whiskey Bad Boys Book 3)

by Kathryn Thomas

  No, I figured he was going to take her to his place if he did anything at all. And at this point, I was willing to assume he’d taken the next step. I was pretty damn sure he had her. So I had to find out where Kenneth Sherman was staying. I pulled my phone out when I was in the street and dialed Carlos.

  “I need a favor, my man,” I said.

  “You know I’ll get in trouble if I keep doing this for you. One day they’re going to catch me. Do you have any idea what happens to cops in jail, man?”

  “I know you’re too good to get caught,” I said. “I just need an address on someone. Nothing serious. I promised you I wasn’t going to call you for the big stuff again.”

  There was a hesitation on the other end of the line. Carlos was our contact on the inside. He worked in the paper department at the police station. We used to rely on him for routes and shifts to know when we could deliver the blow safely, but after nearly getting caught, we couldn’t risk losing our man.

  So we made a different plan, and he was allowed to go back to his life of serving justice the honest way. But he was still good at what he did and, like a lot of cops, his morals were about as stable as mine.

  “Yeah, okay. Tell me what you need,” he said.

  “You’re saving my ass here,” I said. Or Tanya’s, but I hoped I hadn’t gone that far. “Name’s Kenneth Sherman. He owns a hole in a ground he calls a diner. Let me know what you find.”

  I hung up and got on my bike. Carlos would phone me back in less than ten with information—unless someone walked in on him. He was pretty neat, usually. Punctual. In our world, that was a plus.

  I was going to head back to the diner in the meantime and trace the fucker’s steps from there as soon as I got his details. I was getting righteously pissed off now. Tanya was missing, and I wanted her back. You didn’t fuck with our gang or our girls. That was just how it worked, and Kenneth had been toeing that line for a while. It was up to me to make sure he remembered where he belonged, and what wasn’t his for the taking.

  Carlos phoned me back in less than ten and I pulled off to answer.

  “He’s on the corner of Caldwell and Maine. Number 17. Entrance in Maine.”

  I thanked Carlos and put the phone back in my pocket. I knew what it took for him to help out the guys on the other side. If they caught him, he was looking at charges for all sorts of fraud. And the man had a family. I had never been able to understand what that was like, but I was starting to get the idea.

  I turned my bike down a side street and weaved through the streets of a suburban area. The place was almost sickeningly perfect, with manicured lawns and immaculate hedges. There were a few houses that had the proverbial picket fence, and I was willing to bet on two point five kids and a dog.

  I watched the cross streets until I found Maine and drove until I found Caldwell. It was a big street that crossed over Maine, probably leading to houses that cost more and looked better. Sherman’s place was the picture of suburban bliss. It was painted a tan color with green pruned trees and a perfect lawn that made me want to piss all over it—just to mess it up a little. I drove around to the back of the house, parked in the alley and went in through the back gate. I doubted the neighbors were going to buy that I was an old family friend; people like me just didn’t belong in places like this.

  I hammered on the door with my fist and called. No response. I did it again, and when there was still no answer, I thought of shooting the lock. I tried the door first, and it was open. Gunshots in suburbia just wasn't something people let slide. I patted myself on the back for using my head.

  I walked into the house. The place was decorated like a woman had done it, but there were telltales that said the woman had disappeared a while ago. There were empty carryout containers on the counter, dirty dishes in the sink, and the place smelled like old socks.

  I went through the whole house. No Kenneth. No Tanya.

  I took a deep breath and did the next best thing. I started looking for the tapes. I knew the idiot would keep copies at home. Any guy with half a brain between his ears would do it, and Sherman was a psychopath, not stupid.

  I found the drawer with the tapes in the office. A file cabinet that looked like the one I’d seen in his office at the diner the two times I’d been there. They were labeled with dates and time slots, and I found what I was looking for. I was hoping Tanya had the other copy so that we would be home free. We had all of them now if I wasn’t mistaken. Tanya had gotten the first tape before Sherman had made his copies. Even obsessive-compulsives could be one-upped.

  She wasn’t here, and I was starting to think that maybe I’d panicked too soon. I’d given Sherman more credit than his sorry ass was due. Maybe he didn’t have it in mind to kidnap her.

  I’d spent too much time around people who were capable of pretty much anything.

  I tucked the cd away in my leathers and closed the cabinet. I left the office the way I’d found it and glanced up to be sure he didn’t have cameras in here, too. But this was a home, not a business. He wasn’t paranoid, just careful. I could appreciate that in a man.

  We weren’t on the same side, but I understood the need to protect what you had. I might have done the same thing if I’d been an honest businessman. I walked out back, but there were blue lights flickering in the alley. The cops were there.

  Shit. I hated their damn patrols. I should have asked Carlos when someone was coming this way, but that was asking too much of the guy. He was jumpy as shit, no thanks to us.

  I turned around and walked to the front door. I could get out the front, slip away and come back for my bike later. I was halfway through the house when I heard a car drive up. A moment later a car door slammed, and a shadow moved across the lounge curtains, a bulky figure, slightly pudgy with muscle hidden beneath it rather than fat. The person had a haircut that stuck up a little at the back making him look like he was trying too hard.

  Well, it looked like papa bear was home.

  Shit.

  CHAPTER 21

  I leaned over the counter to put the waffle stack in front of the kid with the braces when my phone beeped in my pocket for the third time. A sound that sounded like the phone was underwater. I’d forgotten to put my phone back on charge last night after Saxon had called, and I was running very low on battery.

  And I still had two hours before the end of my shift. If I was lucky, my phone would last, but I doubted it. I would have to find another way to get ahold of Saxon and let him know that I had the tapes.

  I’d hidden my handbag under the counter, behind Reggie’s bag. It wasn’t like anyone was going to go through it, least of all Kenneth, but I was paranoid anyway. I wasn’t a thief. The last time I’d taken anything without paying for it was a pack of gum from a gas station when I was fourteen, and I’d felt so guilty I’d gone back, bought another one, and paid twice the money for it.

  When I’d given Saxon those tapes the other night, the night of me being involved in what Kenneth called the robbery, I hadn’t felt bad because it hadn’t been me who had taken the tapes out of the diner.

  It hadn’t been my theft.

  Besides that, I’d been relieved that the problem was being taken care of, that my boss didn’t have tapes of Saxon and me having sex to perv over. I was sure it was the reason his messed up attitude with me had started, and I was ending it. Removing it from Kenneth’s desk without permission had been survival, the lesser of two evils.

  But this time, it was theft, and not only that, but I’d tampered with the cameras, as well. I was a full-blown criminal in my mind. Did it have anything to do with Saxon? Obviously, it did directly, but other than that, just because I was with someone that had no regard for the law? Was I falling on the wrong side of the line because I was falling for Saxon?

  That question alone had too many other questions branching from it—like whether we were really together, and if I really had what it took to be a criminal to be attracted to one. And many others.

  I shook
it off. This was no time to lose my cool. If I panicked now and started acting out, I could give myself away, and considering that the police were watching me and Saxon already, that was the last thing that needed to happen. I went into the bathroom and splashed water on my face. I looked at my face in the mirror. I seemed paler than usual, my dark hair a thin frame around my face with it pulled back like that. I took a deep breath through my nose and blew it out through my mouth. Another time—in. Out. I rubbed my hands over my face and then smoothed back my hair. Less than two hours and I was home free.

  Reggie came into the bathroom, too. I got a fright when the door banged open and breathed out in relief when it was her, rolling my eyes.

  “We shouldn’t both be in here,” I said when I saw her. She was stepping around on the stop, twisting her apron in her hands. My phone let out its last dying beep before it went quiet, vibrating as if it was the final spasm. “Dammit,” I added and pulled it out. Dead. I shoved it back into my apron pocket, irritated.

  “I thought you were almost done. I’m bursting.” Reggie was still stepping around on the spot.

  I glanced at the door, dreading to go back out there. I was so aware of the cameras in the diner, felt them burning into me from every angle. For all I knew, Kenneth was in his office, watching me on his security system. I didn’t put it beneath him, either. I was really starting to lose it. I had to pull myself together.

  “Is Kenneth acting weird around you?” I asked. Reggie frowned and shook her head so her blond hair flipped off her shoulders before it feathered down again.

  “Not weirder than normal. What are you talking about?”

  I shook my head. “Nevermind. You go pee. I’ll take your tables until you’re done.”

  She looked relieved and hurried into one of the two stalls. I headed back out to the diner, braving the cameras and putting on my mask again.

  I was just ready to leave. I’d already punched myself out, but I’d stayed for a couple of minutes later, packing away the last stuff, making sure there was no reason to point fingers at me. Kenneth appeared in the door of his office and beckoned to me. My body stilled. I was suddenly cold, and every fiber of my being arched away from Kenneth in the opposite direction. I wanted to say no. I thought feverishly for an excuse, but I couldn’t find one quick enough. I fought the urge to roll my eyes, swallowed hard, and went into his office.

  “Yes?” I asked. I’d positioned myself in front of the door so that Kenneth couldn’t close it again. He wasn’t going to catch me off guard this time. That had happened too many times, and I wasn’t going to be tricked into another corner. Who said I wasn’t a fast learner?

  “I wanted to talk to you about your schedule,” he said.

  “You’ve been calling me in a lot for that schedule,” I pointed out.

  He nodded. “You’re right, but when you said this morning you needed to see when you had off again, I reviewed it. I’m swapping you and Reggie around a couple of times so that you’re not finishing late at night. Your schedule has been stagnant for a while now, and a change is always a good thing.”

  When he’d mentioned this morning, the schedule I’d claimed to look at when he’d nearly caught me red-handed stealing his tapes, my blood had gone cold. Now, with his last sentence, suspicion replaced fear.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “It’s not safe out there, and with that criminal after you… I just don’t like you walking home in the dark anymore. You live close, but not close enough. There’s so much that can happen in a couple of blocks between here and home. There’s so much that he can do.”

  “He’s not a criminal,” I said, defending Saxon before thinking about it. “And I’m perfectly fine getting home at night.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “If I’m not being followed,” I added with a bite in my tone. It was perfectly clear whom I was referring to with that statement.

  Kenneth looked out the window for a moment and put his hands on his hips before looking back at me. He sighed, and I didn’t know if it was out of exasperation or if it was apologetical.

  “I know you’re angry about that, but I was just making sure you were okay,” he said. “I didn’t want you to get into trouble with that maniac walking around.”

  No apology. I almost said that the only maniac was Kenneth, but I bit my tongue and saved myself from a nasty drama. Point for me.

  “Look, Kenneth. With all due respect, I’m happy with my shifts. They work for me, and I don’t want to change them. I’ve worked out a routine around them, and changing everything now will make it difficult to revise my studying schedule, as well.”

  Having said that, the idea of walking home in broad daylight when there were enough people around to prevent Kenneth from following me home was appealing. But it didn’t matter. I didn’t want Kenneth playing the hero in my life. Honestly, I didn’t need saving.

  Kenneth’s face softened, but it wasn’t in a way that made me feel good about his concern. He came closer to me. I started backing up but my back hit the door I’d so strategically placed myself in front of. I glanced to my left, to the opening. I was hoping for a seating area full of witnesses, but it had run empty all of a sudden. Their timing was brilliant, and despite the open door, I still felt trapped.

  “Lunch rush is finally ending,” Kenneth said, as if he knew what I’d been thinking. He took another step closer. I pulled my arms tighter across my chest, suddenly not confident but hiding, protecting my vitals, hoping that it would form some sort of barrier between us.

  The sound of a motorcycle driving by drowned out everything for a couple of seconds. Saxon was here. He was just outside, waiting for me. I had to get to him. He’d come to rescue me. How he knew I needed it was beyond me, but he’d come.

  Kenneth turned his head to listen, too. He had a look of expectation on his face. If Saxon came in, I didn’t doubt Kenneth would call the police. We both waited. My heart beat in my throat, scared for myself, scared for Saxon.

  But then the sound faded again, the idling engine picking up its growl before it died away, and there was nothing but the sound of my heart hammering against my ribs and my ragged breathing spelling out fear.

  Kenneth shook his head as if deciding something for himself before he turned his attention back to me. “Tanya, you’re so naïve and trusting,” he said. I thought that maybe he meant to sound reassuring, but it creeped me out. It was smooth, like velvet against me, and it made my skin crawl. “There are real criminals out there, people who wouldn’t think twice about hurting you. I just want to see you safe.”

  “And I don’t need saving,” I said. My voice was thinner than I’d wanted it to be. Kenneth was very close to me now. The door was open, but escaping still meant pushing past Kenneth, and I was trying to avoid any physical contact with him, even accidental contact. Reggie had already left. I’d been in here longer than ten minutes; it was probably much more now, and Reggie never worked overtime if she could help it. There were only a few customers out there, if any, and the cook and the dishwasher. They wouldn’t hear me over the noise of the kitchen. And the next shift wouldn’t be in yet. Dammit.

  Who would have thought that a diner had a lull? Of all the days in my waitressing career, this was the one day I despised the lack of customers and wished the place was teeming with people who needed serving.

  Kenneth was right in front of me now, so close I could smell his aftershave like a poison, cutting off my air. Heat bounced from him, and I felt it through my clothes. I tried to breathe through my mouth, but it didn’t take the smell away.

  Kenneth lifted his hand, and I stiffened. He brushed a stray hair out of my face and then turned his hand so that the back of it was against my cheek. I curled away from it, craning my neck.

  “Stop it,” I said. I wanted to be forceful, but my voice was thin with fear, and I sounded pathetic instead.

  “Just let me take care of you,” Kenneth said. “I know you like men who take control.”

  I shuddered. The tape
. The one where Saxon and I were doing it against Kenneth’s desk. I’d known that damn tape was going to come back to haunt me. Kenneth thought I was that kind of girl, and he was going to keep pushing until he got his own version of that damn sex tape. It had been my own fault, my own carelessness, I knew. But I really wanted him to get over himself and move away from this now.

  “Get away from me,” I said, pushing against Kenneth to get him to back up. He didn’t back up. Instead, he leaned against my hands with his body, and he was stronger than I was. It didn’t matter how many self-defense classes I’d had—which weren’t that many to begin with—a man was always going to be stronger than a woman. His chest pressed up against mine, and I was trapped between his body and the door. Panic replaced what little confidence I’d had.