I reach back onto the porch for the smashed phone and toss it beside the body. There’s blood and brains spattering the floorboards, but maybe I can keep her from looking at it.
I pocket the wallet and toss the gun under the porch. Then I run back inside the house. When I get to the bedroom, Isabel’s nowhere to be found.
“Isabel!” I yell, hearing the panic in my voice.
“Thorn!” comes a plaintive, muffled cry.
For a horrible, sickening second, a flashback makes me weak in the knees. My stomach churns. Then, realizing she’s under the bed, my heart starts hammering in my chest. Relief floods my veins so quickly I feel dizzy for a second.
“Isabel,” I rasp urgently. “Come on. We have to go. Now.”
A small, trembling hand appears. Then the cascade of her chocolate-brown hair. I just barely resist the urge to pull her out, knowing I’ll hurt her. Instead, I kneel and wait to help her up. She’s still naked, and trembling visibly.
“I heard shots. I didn’t know…” her voice breaks. Tears fill her eyes.
“Shh, it’s okay.”
With a strangled cry, Isabel flings herself into my arms. I hold her tightly for a long second, stroking her hair and murmuring her name against her ear. She clings to me, then takes a deep, shuddering breath and pulls back. Her wide, terrified eyes meet mine, and then slide down to my arm.
“You’re hurt,” she breathes in horror.
“Not badly,” I grunt. “Come on, get up. Pack your bag. We need to leave. Now. Hurry.”
I want to sit here and hold her until she feels better, but there’s no time. I stand, and pull her up with me. She’s still looking dazed, almost paralyzed. “Sibéal,” I say sharply. Startled, her eyes meet mine again, and then she blinks and nods. “Okay,” she whispers, and immediately goes to the dresser and begins pulling out her clothes.
Isabel doesn’t ask questions or hesitate as she throws on a T-shirt and jeans, then starts stuffing the rest of her things in her bag. Thank fuck. Striding into the living room, I take out my phone and punch in a number. My prez answers on the third ring.
“Rock. We have a problem. I’m leaving Connegut with the girl. There’s a body here that needs to be taken care of. We have to go to ground.”
“Understood,” he grunts. “Everything okay?”
“For now.” I grab my own bag and start throwing things in. “One of Fowler’s men came snooping. We’ll go somewhere to get out of sight for the night. I’ll check back in tomorrow once I decide what to do.”
“You call Oz?”
“Not yet. I’ll do that later, once I’ve got the girl out of here.”
“Be safe, brother.”
“Will do.”
I end the call and pause, taking a moment to look around the room. The wound on my arm is bleeding enough that I should cover it until it stops. I go to the kitchen and find a dish towel, then open a drawer and take out some duct tape. I do my best to wrap it, taping it tight to slow the blood flow. I finish packing my bag, but just as I’m about to close it I remembering something. Going into the bathroom, I open the small linen closet and reach up to the top shelf. Back behind all the towels, I pull out the small purse Isabel was carrying the night she came to me. I toss it into my bag along with the rest of my things.
When I’ve zipped the duffel and made sure I have everything I need, I call to her.
“Coming!”
Isabel comes into the living room, carrying her bag.
“You ready?” I ask. She nods. “Good. Let’s go.”
“On foot?” she asks uncertainly. I look down and remember she has no shoes.
“Ah. No, darlin’, not on foot.” I manage a grin. “We have a car hidden not far away. It’s only about five-hundred feet or so from here.”
“We do?” Isabel’s mouth curve into a crooked smile. “You mean, I could have driven out of here instead of trying to walk out?”
“Only if you’d found the keys,” I chuckle. Strange that even as dangerous as things are, Isabel’s making jokes. My brave girl. “Which you wouldn’t have.”
“Where did you hide them?” Her eyes twinkle.
“Ah, no,” I grin, taking her by the hand and leading her toward the door. “A man needs his secrets, after all. Now come on. Enough standing around.”
“Thorn,” Isabel says, her face growing sober. “What’s going on? Who was out there?”
“I’ll tell you everything once we’re out of here,” I promise her. “For now, no more talking. Follow me, as quick as you can. And don’t make any noise, just in case.”
19
Isabel
On the way out the door, Thorn covers my eyes with his hand. I think he’s going to blindfold me again, but as soon as we’re off the porch, he takes the hand away and grabs mine instead, pulling me toward the trees with him. I do my best to keep up with him in my stockinged feet, and hope he’s telling me the truth about it not being far.
I can’t see a thing, but Thorn is sure-footed and swift. He keeps me close to him so all I have to do is follow in his footsteps. Soon, we come to a small clearing. Just as he said, there’s a car here — a mid-sized SUV that’s probably dark blue or black. He hits a button on a key fob and the lights go on, then goes to the back of the car and opens the hatch to throw our bags in. He slams the door and nods for me to get in on the passenger side. I do as he says without question.
I barely have time to buckle my seatbelt before the engine roars to life. Thorn throws the SUV into drive and presses down hard on the accelerator. The action throws me back against the seat. I stifle a yelp and clutch at the armrests as he barrels through the grass, dodging trees and rocks as though he knows the path out like the back of his hand. I try to relax, but the events of the last fifteen minutes have left my nerves raw and on edge. Instead, I concentrate on taking deep, slow breaths and staying quiet. I don’t want to make Thorn’s job worse by freaking out or hyperventilating or something.
A couple minutes later, we drive down into a ditch, then back up again, and then suddenly we’re on a paved road. Thorn turns right and floors it. The SUV roars and accelerates rapidly, until we’re going so fast I’m afraid we’ll hit an animal in the dark night. But one look at his focused, determined face, and I start to calm down. Just looking at him — knowing he’s right here beside me — makes me feel safe, in spite of everything.
I can’t stop the half-hysterical giggle that bubbles up at the thought. Thorn shoots me a look, one thick brow going up. “This is funny to you, is it?” he growls, but a corner of his mouth twitches in amusement.
“Not exactly,” I murmur, smirking back at him.
“Christ, but you’ve got a twisted sense of humor, girl.” He shakes his head in mock exasperation and turns back to the road.
I sit quietly for a few minutes, letting him drive. “Where are we going?” I finally ask.
“Someplace safe. The safe house is compromised. We can’t risk going back.”
“I heard… a gunshot,” I whisper. The fear threatens to return, but I push it away. “I thought you were dead.”
“Not me,” he says, shooting me a tight grin. “I’m harder to kill than that.”
“Thorn. What happened out there? Who was it?”
In the low light of the dashboard, I see his jaw tense. I’m afraid I’ve asked too much. But then he sighs angrily.
“Fuck it,” he mutters, half to himself. “After this, you deserve to know what’s going on. I’ll tell you, Isabel. But right now, let me focus on driving and thinking about where to take us for the night.”
Thorn tells me to get some rest, so I doze off in the passenger seat. I don’t know how long we drive, or even which direction we go, since I never knew where we were in the first place. It’s still dark when Thorn wakes me up and tells me we’ve arrived. Opening my eyes, I see we’re at a small, dingy-looking motel in the middle of nowhere. Thorn tells me to wait for him in the SUV. He locks it with his key fob and strides toward the motel
’s office. I watch him go and try not to count the seconds until he’s back.
When Thorn returns, he unlocks the car again and climbs into the driver’s seat. “We’re at the end, there,” he says, lifting his chin. He pulls the SUV to the edge of the lot and shuts it off again. I open my door and slide down off the seat onto the gravel below. By the time I move around to the back, he’s got my bag as well as his slung over his shoulder. “Come on,” he rumbles.
Thorn walks me to the door of our room and sticks the key into the lock. A stale, musty smell hits me instantly. I wrinkle my nose, but don’t complain. We both have worse things to think about right now than a less-than-excellent place to sleep for the night.
When Thorn flips on the light, I take in the smallish, dingy room. There’s a rickety table with two chairs by the door, and one double bed with a quilted cover. I risk a quick glance at Thorn, but he’s already setting our bags on the table and pulling off his leather cut. He runs a hand over his face, raking it through his hair. I look over at the digital alarm clock by the bed and see it’s after two in the morning. For the first time I realize how tired he must be.
“Go ahead and use the bathroom first,” he tells me.
I don’t argue. I pad across the dirty-looking carpet and push open the door at the back of the room. The switch by the door fills the tiny space with cold fluorescent light. I blink against it, turning my face away from the fixture, and shut the door. I do my business, then run some warm water and quickly wash my face, drying it with a small but thankfully clean-looking towel.
When I get back outside, Thorn is sitting at the table in the single chair.
“It’s late,” he grunts at me. “Get some sleep. I’ll stay up and stand watch just in case.”
“But Thorn,” I begin. “You’ve had even less sleep than I have.” I blink a couple of times and frown. “I could take a shift, and wake you up if…”
“No. Sleep.”
“But…”
“Woman, do as I say!” It’s a command that brooks no argument.
Anger flares in me. I open my mouth to shoot him an indignant retort. But then I notice again how tired his face looks, and realize I’d just be making things worse for him. I can complain about his neanderthal behavior later, when he’s had some rest.
“Okay,” I say meekly. “But remember you still owe me an explanation of what the hell’s going on.”
“Tomorrow,” he barks. “Right now, go to sleep.”
I move over to the bed and pull the cover to the side. The sheets look clean, but I’m not convinced they are, given the state of this room. I decide I’m tired enough to just sleep in what I’m wearing. I lie down on the bed, fatigue already overtaking me, and close my eyes.
“Thank you, Thorn,” I whisper.
He doesn’t respond.
20
Thorn
The minutes and hours pass.
I sit in the dark, the Sig Sauer on the table next to me. The curtain’s mostly closed, except for a small opening for me to see through.
I stare into the darkness. And tell myself over and over what a fucking idiot I am.
I never should have fucked Isabel. I can’t believe I let being isolated with her at Connegut get to me like that.
It was only because I was there with her twenty-four seven, and no escaping her ripe, lush curves.
It was only because she was there every second, her body practically begging me to taste it.
I’ve risked my club’s alliance with the Death Devils by fucking her.
But more than that, I’ve risked her safety.
I almost let her get taken by Fowler’s men back there. If I hadn’t been following my cock, that dead fucker never would have gotten as close as he did.
Before I can stop it, Jimmy’s young face appears in my mind, his eyes on me in a silent reproach.
Jimmy. I was supposed to protect him, too. And because I loved him like a brother, I let my emotions get the better of me. I hesitated just a second too long.
I can’t afford to have any emotions where Isabel is concerned. My job is to keep her protected and out of danger. But goddamnit, being around her is clouding my judgment. It’s a special kind of torture to be cooped up with a girl like that, trying not to look at her big brown eyes and her luscious fucking ass. Jesus, not a jury in the world would convict me for wanting her. But as much as I hate to admit it, my feelings for her go beyond just a desire to fuck her.
I think I might be falling for her just a little, too.
I must be the biggest fucking plank in the world.
I stare out into the night and call myself every name in the book. I tell myself what happened with Isabel tonight can’t happen again. I’ve got to get my dick under control. I’ve got to remember I’ve got a job to do, and I can’t let anything — or anyone — stand in the way of that.
The next morning, as soon as it’s light, I slip out the door and ring Oz. As usual, he answers on the first ring.
“Do you never sleep?” I ask him.
“Rarely.” There’s no trace of humor in his voice. I get the feeling Oz is not the joking type. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“To the fact that someone found our safe house last night. One of Fowler’s men. He was coming for Isabel. I ended him.”
Oz lets out a stream of expletives. I’m impressed. I’ve never actually heard him show emotion before.
“Where’s the body?” he finally asks through clenched teeth.
“The Lords are taking care of it. There’ll be no trace.”
I tell Oz the number that was plugged into the burner phone I found on the body. He takes it down without a word.
“Where are you now?” he asks.
“I think it’s best if you don’t know.” I glance toward the door to the motel room. “Oz. How the hell would Fowler’s man have found us? You didn’t know our location. Most of my club didn’t know where we were.”
“I don’t know.”
Anger starts to boil up inside me. “I have a hard time believing that, Oz.”
Silence.
“You’re not being straight with me,” I bark. “God damn it, Oz. How the hell do you expect me to protect your daughter without all the information?”
He hesitates. “I believe… there may be a mole in my organization,” he says at last.
It takes all the strength I have not to smash my phone into the wall of the building. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I hiss. “And how long have you known this?”
“I haven’t known. I’ve suspected.” He pauses, and when he continues, his voice is sharp enough to cut glass. “And unfortunately, I do not know who it is. But when I find out, he will pay.”
“Fuck,” I snarl. I consider Oz’s words. If Fowler’s got one of the Death Devils talking, it stands to reason whoever it is told him someone in our club was protecting Isabel. All I can think is they managed to follow Beast to the turnoff for the safe house, and Fowler sent one of his people to check it out.
I’m just lucky they only sent one man. More than that, and I might not have been able to get Isabel out in time.
If I’m right, that means the Lords can’t help us anymore. We can’t call for help from anyone. I’m on my own to keep Isabel out of harm’s way until this is over.
“We’re going to ground,” I tell Oz, finishing the cigarette I’m smoking and grinding the butt to a pulp under the heel of my boot. “The only way I can keep your daughter safe is to take her somewhere none of you knows about. Not you, not your club, not the Lords.”
Oz weighs my words. “Yes.”
The tension in my back loosens. Because I wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“I’ll be in touch tomorrow. Not this number. Watch for my call.”
I hang up before Oz can reply, and power off the phone. I’m fucking filled with rage that he didn’t tell me all this before. But I push it down because I have to be focused. I need to be clear in my thoughts.
I push open
the door to the motel room. Isabel is sitting up in bed, her hair a mess. My cock jumps as I imagine fisting my hand in it.
“Was that my father you were talking to?” she asks in a sleepy voice.
“Yeah.”
“Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?” she yawns.
“Breakfast. Let’s find breakfast first. I’ll tell you when we’re eating.”
“I don’t think they’ll let me in like this.” She points to her feet.
“Ah. Good point. We’ll stop someplace to get you shoes beforehand. I need to make a purchase myself.”
Isabel gets out of bed. She comes to stand beside me and starts digging in her bag. She’s close enough that I can feel the bed-warm heat of her, and I turn my back so she won’t know how hard I am for her.
I sit down and wait until she’s through in the bathroom. Then I go in and take a piss, and brush my teeth. When I’m finished I come back out and zip up my duffel. “Ready?” I ask.
“Ready,” she nods.
I toss the room key on the table and we leave the motel. In the SUV, I turn left onto the road we came in on, in the direction of the next town. It turns out to be a medium-sized place, big enough to have a Wal-Mart and a string of chain restaurants along the highway. I pull into the Wal-Mart and park the car close to the door but off to the side of the lot.
“What’s your shoe size?” I ask Isabel as I reach for the door handle.
“Why can’t I come in with you?”
“You said yourself. You don’t have any shoes.”
Isabel snorts. “If there’s one place I can think of where people won’t bat an eye that I’m in stocking feet, it’s Wal-Mart.”
We go in together, and she’s right — no one even looks twice at her. We go to the shoe department and I wait as she picks out a few different pairs of trainers and tries them on. She finally chooses one, and laces them up as I stand there scanning the store for any strange activity. When she’s finished, she picks up the box to take with us. “Okay, I’m good.”
THORN: Lords of Carnage MC Page 11