by Tl Reeve
Kalum’s features softened and he shook his head before raising his hands. “Kid, you need to breathe and let it go. Your sister isn’t fucking me for kicks and to say so is an insult to her.”
Kru winced. Everything around him came back in roaring clarity. Lily stood by the entrance to the room, her face pale, hands shaking. This time, instead of the bad man scaring a woman, he had. “Fuck it.” He turned to Fawn, not able to look at either of them. “I’m sorry.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I think it’s best I stay away for a bit. At least until I can get my head screwed on right.” He walked past Kalum and exited the house, only to run slap dab into Graham as he stepped off the front porch. “Sorry.”
“Where’s the fire?” the lean, sinewy cowboy asked. Tall, with freckles, slate-blue eyes, and shaggy black hair, he got Kru’s blood pumping. Too bad the guy didn’t play for the other team or share. He’d take him for a ride. Hmm, when he thought about it, maybe he did need to get laid.
“Nowhere,” he muttered. “Just got shit to do.”
“Yeah. I remember those days. Did you see Fawn? She’s been looking forward to having you over for dinner for a while now.” Graham smacked his gloves on his thigh, causing dust to rise from them.
Shit, here he was, trying to find an easy way to get into Kalum’s brother’s pants, while leaving his sister behind…again. Time to eat a little crow. “About that. You see, I said some pretty shitty stuff inside. It’s best if I go before I hurt anyone else’s feelings.”
“You know, for a hard ass, you sure do act like a pussy,” he said, smirking at Kru.
“Asshole,” he replied while glancing around the expanse of the ranch. Fawn had a good life here. He didn’t want to do anything to destroy her ride. It was pretty obvious the Truesdales intended to take care of her. “Fine. I’ll stay for dinner.”
Kru took a bite of chicken. Staying for dinner had been the right decision after all. While Lily cooked, he had apologized again for his outburst. He didn’t know if the visceral reactions he had to assumed threats would ever go away, but he had promised his sister, he’d talk to someone about it, or at least try to lighten up.
“Then Kalum came running in the house.” Lily laughed. “His jeans were torn to shreds and he had blood on his chest.” She gasped then snorted which only made her laugh harder. “It took me all of five minutes to glean from my brother that Graham had changed his cologne for estrous spray. That bull thought he was going to mount my brother.”
Kru choked then laughed. “First off, why the hell do you have it on hand, and why the hell were you in the bull pen?”
“We have it on hand for when we need semen samples. Usually we send the samples to potential farms for them to test for the virility of the sperm. Then, when the owner is satisfied the bull can reproduce, we bring the bull over and let nature take its course,” Graham said, grabbing another piece of chicken.
Lily could cook the hell out of some chicken. He didn’t remember the last time someone made him a home-cooked meal. “So, what happened to you?” He inclined his chin at Kalum.
When he’d walked back into the house after his dramatic departure, Kalum had pulled him aside and let him know pretty damn quick how things ran around his place. If he disrespected Fawn again in front of Kalum, the man promised Kru an ass whoopin’ the size of Texas. He nodded and promised to be on his best behavior, but if Kalum ever raised his hand to him or Fawn, it was all over but the crying. No one would threaten him or his sister. Somewhere in all the posturing they did, they came to an agreement, and he apologized to his sister.
“I kicked Graham’s ass then laughed,” Kalum said. “Now, anytime one of the bulls gives me a sideways glance, I leave the enclosure.”
“So, Kru, do you have any funny stories?” Lily asked, before taking a bite of her cornbread. Her innocent wide-eyed wonder bewildered him.
“Well….” He cleared his throat. “There was this one time. We were having a prospect party. A bunch of guys had been prospecting for our club and—”
“Prospecting?” Lily questioned.
“Yeah, it’s when you say you want to be a part of our crew. So, you prospect in. The guys are given shi—crappy jobs. Cleaning messy toilets. Taking jobs which might require long hours in the blazing sun. Stuff normal people wouldn’t do.” Robbing rivals of their product. “It’s to show loyalty. Anyway, we were having a party once, and Billy the Kid—the guy’s nickname, of sorts—was informed we’d gotten him a stripper.”
“A stripper….” Fawn muttered.
“Oh yes.” He grinned. “About one in the morning, the crowd parted and a guy in a suit placed a portable iPod on a chair and walked away. On the screen, it said press play. So Billy, in all his excitement, rubbed his hands together, while we were hooting and hollering, stroking the guy’s ego. He hit play. A few seconds later, Jesse’s grandma came around the corner and danced for him.”
Kalum and Graham laughed, while Lily choked on her drink. “Holy shit,” Kalum said.
“Maribel was a trouper about it. Actually got into it. Hell, she even kissed Billy, who seemed to take it all in stride.” Those had been good times. Even in the darkness of his job, he clung to the good memories.
“So, what does Billy the Kid do for a living?” Graham asked.
Kru frowned. “Two weeks after he earned his patch, he was killed at work. The press machine he worked with on the assembly line malfunctioned and it…he didn’t feel a thing,” he whispered.
“I’m so sorry,” Lily said, taking his hand.
“So….” He cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on the heartache. “We did a charity ride, raised some cash for his wife and two little girls. We set up scholarship funds for the kids and every Christmas and each of the girl’s birthdays, we bring them gifts. Their mom is seeing one of the crew now. He’s a good guy, adores the girls. Loves their mom, too.” He shrugged.
“Sounds like they’re the lucky ones,” Fawn whispered. “You did good, little brother.”
He lifted his shoulder a little then pulled away from Lily’s touch, not waiting to accept the kindness or approval in her voice, before taking a swig of his beer. “Enough of this sappy shit.”
“So, when do you start work with Ross?” Kalum asked, changing the subject.
“Uh, tomorrow morning at seven. I’m supposed to meet him at the Copper property. We’re building the family a house.”. His phone vibrated, and he fished it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Excuse me.”
He stood then exited the dining room. Typing in the password, he hit enter and the text filled the screen. My name is Cassandra Rios, reporter for Hardcore Biker. I’d like to interview you about your time with the DOBs and your relationship with Craven Salvador, president of the Vipers. Yeah, right. No way in hell a nobody reporter would just happen to have his number and, coincidentally, after the murder of Craven, want to interview him about his relationship with him.
Nonetheless, it could, for all intents and purposes, be a lead. He hit reply. Sure, we can meet. Send me your info and I’ll see you at six tomorrow night. Be alone. Hopefully, whoever Cassandra was, if Cassandra is her real name, was hot. If she didn’t prove to be a danger to his current situation, he might try her on for size and work out a little stress. Hitting send, he returned to the dining room. “So where were we?”
Chapter Four
Rapid City
Gabby stared at the expanse of the parking lot overlooking the monotonous terrain. For miles, all she could see were grass, shrubs, and the occasional elk. She’d chosen a room near the exit for a quick getaway if need be. Turning away, she glanced at the clock next to her bed. Ten to six, almost showtime. When Kru responded to her text, she’d been shocked. Then frightened. Logically, she knew he might kill her before talking to her. She had, after all, been in the room with Craven when he was murdered. Kru had even yelled at her, while she continued to hide. Anything could happen tonight. Hopefully, it would
n’t end in her death.
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and blanched. She looked shell-shocked, pale, and scared out of her mind. If he knocked on the door right now, her cover would be blown—even if she knew her half-hearted attempt to conceal her identity didn’t hide anything at all.
Dammit, I should have gotten a wig. Yet, it wouldn’t have covered the myriad of tattoos decorating her body. Nor the piercing in her brow or the one in her ear. She had to hope the change of hair color would do to conceal her identity.
She paced to the window overlooking the open field no more than five hundred feet from her. What she wouldn’t give to feel free right about now. A knock at the door let her know Kru had arrived. As she strolled past the mirror she noticed the sickly green tinge and paleness had receded. You can do this. Remember, your name is Cassandra Rios, reporter. Act like a reporter. She opened the door and swallowed hard as her gaze traveled up his impressive frame. She didn’t know his height, but he dwarfed her in size and bulk, wearing a heavy coat, a dirty white T-shirt, and boots. Her body responded to him in ways she knew would only lead to trouble. He cocked a brow as he pulled his wraparound sunglasses off and held her hostage with his onyx eyes. His hair had grown a bit since she’d last seen him, and the dangerous heat he always seemed to exude threatened to consume her.
“Uh,” she whispered, lowering her gaze, which drew her attention to his impressive package bulging at the front of his pants. “Come in.” She stepped aside, letting him in then released the handle. The door slid closed on its own with a snick, leaving them, together, in a not-so-big space.
“Of all the people who could’ve been looking for me, it’s you.” His muscular frame settled into the chair next to the table where she’d been working. “If you’re thinking about killing me, it won’t happen, Gabby.”
Her heart lurched. Adrenaline kicked in along with her fight or flight instinct. The way he gazed at her like a predatory animal made a sliver of unease wiggle through her. “Well, at least we know where we stand, Kru,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “You must know the real reason I asked you here.”
“Explain it for me, beautiful? I’m having a hard time remembering,” he drawled, while giving her a smoldering look.
“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” she snarled, amazed at his relaxed posture. He eased the curtain open a little then glanced over at her, waiting for her to continue. “Do I have to spell it out?” Anger replaced her apprehension.
“No, but I’d like your assessment of what happened. I’m almost positive you were the one in Craven’s office. Tell me what you saw.” He folded his hands in his lap like he didn’t have a care in the world.
She curled her tongue against her cheek and nodded. “Okay, cabrón. We’ll play your game.” Gabby sat forward in her chair, her hands trembling with repressed anger. “I saw your ass storm into my brother’s office, gun drawn, like you were going to kill him. Which means only one or two thing—you were contracted or you had a beef with my brother.”
He watched her, his preternatural eyes held her in their grasp. The longer they sat there, the more she wondered if she hadn’t yet again, made a mistake by calling him. He checked the window again and when he turned to her, she swore his eyes had changed to a light blue. “We both know Craven was dead before I got there. Plus, we both know you saw it happen.”
“Doesn’t change a thing,” she said nonchalantly.
“Oh, it changes everything, beautiful. How many people did you tell where you are?” he asked, pushing the curtain aside again.
“No one,” she lied.
“Want to try again.”
“This isn’t about me. This is about the pinche puto, who killed my brother,” she snarled.
“Gabby, we both know I didn’t do it. We both know Craven was dead when I walked in there, now, if you were there, who did it?” His body tensed. “For fuck’s sake, who the hell did you tell where you are?”
She watched his posture change. “No one. I told no one. I made one call to Poppa.”
“Well in about three minutes, we’re going to have to make a run for it.” He lunged from his chair, just as the bullets whizzed through the glass, shattering it. Wood splintered all around them as he dumped her onto the floor and covered her with his massive body. “Don’t move,” he whispered against her ear.
She shivered under him as the ping and repeat of heavy-duty guns, cut through the air. Yet, even though she should have been scared, she knew she was safe with Kru. She responded to him, feeling the erection he’d had since the moment he walked into the room press into her rear. His biceps brushed across her breast and she saw stars. Gabby berated herself. Certain death knocked on her door and here she lay, getting off on a man she should hate’s touch. “Why are they doing this?” she whimpered.
“Shh,” he shushed her. “Don’t move.” The gunfire stopped and the door was kicked open. She didn’t get a chance to scream. Kru pulled a gun from his waistband and shot. He grabbed her arm and hauled her to him. “Run.”
She snatched her laptop and thumb drive as she followed him past the bullet-riddled door. The report of high-powered semi-automatic guns cut through the calm. Glass splintered. Bullets slammed into vehicles around them. “Where are we going?” she screamed.
He pulled open the driver’s side door to a truck. “Get in.” She slid into the seat, and he climbed in after her, pushing her low to keep her safe. “I’ll tell you when we’re clear.” The squeal of tires cut through the cacophony of noise.
With a quick turn, her body slammed against the passenger door and she yelped. Stars burst before her eyes. Excruciating pain radiated from her shoulder to her wrist, which had been turned at an awkward angle. She glanced at Kru to see blood seeping from the shoulder of his jacket. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s just blood. I’ll heal.”
“Okay, Superman,” she groaned, grabbing her arm. “I think it’s broken.”
“We’re almost safe,” he replied. “Just a few more seconds.”
“Easy for you to say. I’m scrunched in a ball with a broken arm and you’re driving,” she snapped as all of the muscles in her arm seized. She sobbed when the pain intensified, then bit her lip. “Son of a bitch, this hurts.
“Okay, we’re clear.” He helped her up into her seat. “I need to make a phone call, so get situated the best you can and keep quiet.”
She rolled her eyes. “Quiet, sure. I’m good at being quiet.”
“Well at least one of us believes you.” He smirked, reaching into his jacket pocket. Retrieving his phone, he placed it in a dash clip then reached again into his pocket. “Sorry, Gabby.”
The pinch of a needle entering her shoulder startled her before her whole body went numb. Keeping her eyes open became a chore as she tried to steady herself. “What…what did you give me?”
“Consider it one of my special cocktails. It won’t hurt you or make you sick. It’ll dull the pain in your arm and let you sleep.”
A deep voice answered the phone. “Kru.”
“We had a problem. I need Bastian at the house.” Kru’s voice seemed to come from far away, even though she knew he sat beside her.
“And the information you were looking for?” the voice asked.
“Caught a fish instead. She’s got a broken arm. I’ve been shot. This shit went sideways quick. We’re about forty-five minutes away,” he answered. He gave her a sad smile. “Sleep. It’ll help you.”
Instead, she held on. She didn’t want to sleep. What if he decided to kill her? “No…sleep. You…kill me…next.”
“What did you give her?”
“A little injection. It’ll help her with the pain and keep her from knowing where I’m going,” Kru replied.
“You know she is your responsibility when she arrives?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“We’ll have Bastian on standby.”
Kru hit end
on the phone and glanced over at her. “Sleep, Gabby.”
“I don’t want to die.” Her words were slurred as she slowly lost her battle with consciousness.
“You’re not going to die. You have my word.”
“Your word means nothing to me. You’re…the…enemy.” Blackness surrounded her and then, nothing.
***
Gabby awoke with a gasp, sitting straight up in bed for the second time in less than forty-eight hours. This was not her bed and she was not at the hotel. Floral wallpaper in soft colors gave the room a warm and inviting feeling. Definitely not her style, but still nice. Her wrist hurt like a bitch but lay at her side in a red cast, matching the red streaks in her hair. How…sweet. Two pills and a bottle of water sat on the bedside table. Taking both pills, she swallowed them with the water then glanced at the clock. Nine at night? What the hell happened? Where the hell was she? She pushed the blankets off and noticed the slight chill in the house. Damn, don’t you guys know how to keep a place warm?
Stumbling over to the window, Gabby drew the curtain and closed her eyes. It wasn’t nine at night but nine in the morning. Fear gripped her. Her heart hammered. Her stomach knotted. Where the hell had Kru brought her? She crossed the room then paused when she noticed the oversized shirt she wore. A new set of clothes with her name on a piece of paper lay on a chair near the door. Fuck. More Western shit. Can’t people see, there ain’t a damn thing country about me? With a groan, she grabbed the clothes and put them on, surprised by how well they fit. She glanced over at the small side table and found her computer and her phone but no thumb drive. Her stomach cramped. She couldn’t allow anyone to get the chip.
A sharp knock at the door and she froze. Maybe if she stayed quiet, they’d think she was still sleeping. The knock came again. “Gabby, we need to talk. Are you decent?”
Shit. “Yeah, come in.” Might as well get the inevitable out of the way.