When he saw a tall woman leading a short, older one off the walkway, he squeezed the throttle harder, frustrated that he was already giving the bike all the gas he could.
Chapter Eleven
Focused on trying to come up with a way to escape, at first Josie didn’t recognize a new sound joining all the others. When she did, she glanced up and her heart soared. Scooter was speeding toward her on his motorcycle. She had to blink twice to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.
She wasn’t—in a few more yards he’d run them over.
Gravel flew in all directions as the motorcycle spun around directly in front of her.
“Get on!” Scooter shouted.
The hold on her arm was gone. Maybe she’d pulled away, or maybe the other woman had fled. Josie didn’t take time to question either possibility, just leaped on the bike behind Scooter. Wrapping her arms around his waist, not caring that she had to drop her bag in order to do so, she planted her feet on top of his and plastered her body as close to his as humanly possible.
The motorcycle was already racing forward again. Josie peeked over her shoulder. Several men, and the woman who had grabbed her, were running after them. “Faster!” she shouted to Scooter. “Faster!”
“Just hold on,” he shouted in return. “Don’t let go for anything.”
Burying her face against his back, she answered, “I won’t!” She wouldn’t, either. During the short time the woman had a hold of her arm she’d wished Scooter had known where she’d gone. He was the only one she could imagine rescuing her.
Afraid of what she might see, yet unable not to look, Josie quickly glanced over her shoulder. A car was now speeding across the parking area. “They’re coming,” she shouted. “In a car. They’re coming after us.”
“I know,” Scooter answered. “Don’t let go.”
Josie would have clung on to him tighter, but was already holding on as firmly as possible. When he leaned slightly, she leaned with him and the motorcycle shot onto the street. Horns honked and her teeth rattled as the tires thudded over the rough road.
“I told you to stay at home!” Scooter shouted above the ruckus.
“I couldn’t!” Her shout was slightly muffled by the back of his shirt billowing against her face. “Those girls have to be rescued!”
“Not by you they don’t! Neither can you save the next group Francine kidnaps. She can kidnap them a great deal faster than you can rescue them.”
Josie wanted to tell him that wasn’t true, but it was. It was a fact she hadn’t wanted to face. “So I’m just supposed to forget about them?”
“No,” he shouted, “but I told you I’d help.”
Scooter leaned the other way, and she did, too. With more horns honking, they took another corner. The motorcycle shot up the hill faster than any car she’d ever ridden in. At the top, they turned again, onto another side street.
The ride continued like that. Up hills, down hills, around left and right turns, passing other vehicles at what seemed to be lightning speed. Josie grew completely disoriented. She had no idea if they were heading north, east, south or west. Not that it mattered. They’d soon be changing direction again. Lifting her head might have helped, but she was afraid to look. The sound of all the traffic was enough, and she didn’t want to know if they were still being followed. She hoped not. There was no telling where Francine Wilks had been going to take her, but she had an idea it wouldn’t have been good.
Despite all that, Josie was hoping Scooter wasn’t going anywhere near the police station. If he got arrested for speeding, there would be no one to call. Other than her family. And that would be disastrous. For everyone.
The motorcycle was going downhill again, quite rapidly. If they hit a bump, she could very well fly right over Scooter’s head. Of course that wasn’t likely. He hadn’t hit any yet, and she held his waist so tightly her arms were growing numb.
His speed slowed considerably. The bouncing and jarring suggested it was because of the roadway, and the stench made her lift her head. Peering over Scooter’s shoulder, her heart practically buckled in her chest. They were back at the docks—in the stockyard.
“What are we doing here?” she asked.
“Just hold on,” he said, leaning to the left again.
She leaned, too, and waited until they’d made the corner before she stressed, “I am!”
Mud covered the roads. She could imagine why it was there, and it wasn’t because it had rained anytime lately. Her body had started to read Scooter’s slightest shift, and it was almost as if they were one, the way she instinctively leaned, to the right this time, as he took a corner around a large wooden pen.
A truck parked in the roadway made her shout, “Watch out!”
“Just hold on,” Scooter said again.
Their speed slowed, but he was still heading directly for the back of the truck. “Scooter, there’s a truck!”
“I know!”
The motorcycle shot forward again with a jolt and flew right up the long tailgate of the truck...where a huge bull stood.
The motorcycle came to an abrupt stop. “Jump off,” Scooter said.
Josie got off on the side near the truck’s sidewall, and spun around to dash down the ramp, but it was already slamming shut. Turning back around and purposefully not looking toward the bull, which took up a large portion of the truck bed, she saw Scooter covering the bike with a tarp.
“What—”
“Get down,” he said, “and hold on.”
“To what?”
He nodded toward the bull. The truck jolted forward and Josie stumbled.
Her natural reaction to save herself from falling made her reach for something to hold on to. The hard and lifeless form of the bull shocked her more than warm flesh would have.
“Get down,” Scooter repeated, pulling her down to the floorboards.
“It’s not real,” she said.
“It’s very real,” Scooter said. “They’re out for blood.”
“I meant the bull,” she said.
“Humphrey,” Scooter said. “He’s real, all right. Just no longer living.”
Josie shifted, unfolding her legs from where she’d landed on her knees, and settled back on the floorboards. “Since when?”
“Last year.” Also on his knees, Scooter had spun around and was lifting a corner of the tarp as if checking on his motorcycle. After pulling out a few strands of straw, he tucked the corner of the tarp under the back tire. Turning toward her, he said, “I don’t want the muffler setting anything on fire.”
Josie couldn’t get her mind off the bull. It was all there. A massive black body, four legs, a head, complete with eyes, a tail and other things she tried to not look at. “He looks just like he did when he was alive.”
“Dac had him stuffed.”
“Why?”
“Because no one’s ever searched his truck for booze with Humphrey in the back.” Scooter stretched underneath the bull and pushed aside a thin layer of straw. “Which reminds me, if I tell you, climb through here.” He’d lifted a board up a couple of inches.
“I’ll fall beneath the truck,” she said, briefly glancing toward the dark space.
He lowered the board and the bouncing of the truck shifted the straw back into place. “No, you won’t. It’s a hidden cavity. It’s where Dac hides the shine he runs for your father.”
“Dac runs shine for my father?”
“Everyone runs shine for your father.”
It would be impossible for her to know all of the bootleggers driving for her father, but she hadn’t suspected Dac. “Do you?”
“No,” Scooter said, crawling beneath the bull’s belly. “I stay busy enough keeping their cars fuelled up. That’s my bread and butter.”
He was between the bull’s back legs, peering out the little square hole that Humphrey’s tail stuck out of. Josie had more questions about that—the stuffed bull—and about Scooter not running shine, but instead asked, “What are you do
ing?”
“Checking to see if we are being followed. I think we lost them, but nothing’s guaranteed.”
Above the rumbling and rattling of the truck, other vehicles could be heard. She’d like to check if they were being followed, but was not about to crawl between the bull’s legs. “And?”
“And what?”
“Are we being followed?”
“There’s too much traffic to tell.” He backed out from beneath Humphrey and then crawled over to sit down beside her.
His nearness made her heart do funny things, which was rather ironic after she’d been glued to his back for miles on end. Maybe it was the way he was looking at her right now. The glimmer in his eyes made her throat grow thick and sticky. Her lips grew dry, too, and she had to lick them.
Scooter’s eyes darted away from her. “You got clothes on under that dress?” he asked, now looking at her skirt.
“Yes.”
“Then take it off. The scarf, too.”
She’d forgotten about her disguise. Pulling off the scarf, she said, “You wouldn’t have recognized me if I hadn’t told you about my Anita clothes.”
The brief gaze he sent her way was full of scorn. “I’d have recognized you. Dirty face and all.”
“It’s not dirt.”
He shrugged. “You got a way to wash it off?”
“Yes. I’m always prepared.”
He sneered and shook his head.
Josie sneered in return. She was glad he’d rescued her, but could do without his attitude. Digging in her pocket for the small container of face cream and the handkerchief she always carried, she discovered something else. “Oh, no.”
He snapped his head in both directions. “What?”
Josie pulled out the key. “Uncle Dave’s car. I have to go back and get it.”
“We are not going back for Dave’s car.”
“I have to. I can’t go home without it.” A shiver rippled from her head to her toes. “If my father finds out...” She couldn’t finish the thought aloud. It was bad enough just thinking about the repercussions of her father discovering she’d been at the docks. Grabbing Scooter’s arm, she pleaded, “We have to go back.”
“No, Josie.”
“Don’t you see?” she asked. “He’ll know you saved me. He’ll—”
“I know exactly what he’ll do,” Scooter said, “and it’s too late to worry about that now.”
Josie wasn’t willing to accept that. “No, it’s not. If we get Dave’s car back, he’ll never know. Dac won’t tell, you won’t tell. I won’t tell.” He was shaking his head and Josie dug deeper, searching for a way to make him understand. “Think about your mother,” she said. “About Maize and Jonas. What will happen to them if...” Her throat swelled completely shut.
Scooter grabbed the key out of her hand as he let out a curse. “Get out of that disguise.”
“So we’ll go back?” she asked hopefully.
“No,” he said. “But I’ll figure out a way to get Dave’s car. You get out of that dress and clean your face.”
“We could—”
“Josie.”
The warning in his voice had her lips snapping shut, which was just as well, as she really didn’t have any idea of what they could do. She was hoping something would pop into her head. He was rubbing his chin, as if thinking hard. She sincerely hoped whatever plan he was contemplating was a good one.
* * *
Scooter turned away as Josie shifted onto her knees and started unbuttoning the top of her dress. He didn’t need to watch that. His mind was already bouncing in too many directions at the same time. She may not have noticed the men who took chase after them, but he had. They’d been packing heat. Going back to face those guns would be suicide. They could be following them right now. He’d taken the motorcycle down every narrow alleyway they’d come across, knowing the bigger car on their tail wouldn’t fit, but still had no way of knowing if the men had caught up with them again or not.
Thank goodness Dac had been waiting exactly as planned, truck running and on hand to close the back as soon as they’d raced up the ramp. Dac also said he knew a back way south into Cloquet and was pretty convinced he’d be able to ditch anyone who might try to follow them.
On the way north, Scooter hadn’t meant to share everything he had, but in the end he was confident he’d chosen the right person to help him find Josie. And that fact also made everything worse. Dac had as much to lose by angering Roger Nightingale as he did.
He wasn’t overly concerned about losing his business. He could start over, but Dac’s family couldn’t, and Maize would lose her new job, too. His only option was to clean up this entire mess, every little detail, before telling Roger all about it. That he was going to do. Tell Roger. It would be the only way to assure Josie’s Duluth days were over.
She was wiping off the white cream she’d spread all over her face with an embroidered hanky, and this time he couldn’t pull his eyes away. The pencil lines she’d drawn on her face had made her look old. If he hadn’t known what to look for, he wouldn’t have been convinced that was her back at the dock. Of course, the way she’d been dragged along by the other woman had been a dead giveaway.
The rumble of the tires echoed beneath them and Scooter cleared his mind to listen more closely. There was no sound of any other traffic now. He pushed off the floor and carefully eased his head over the side rails. They’d just crossed a little bridge and trees lined the curving road on both sides—thick trees with underbrush so overgrown no one could hide in them.
He sat back down, knowing Dac would pull over soon.
Josie folded her dress and added it to the neat stack she’d created out of her sweater and scarf before she looked up at him. Scooter cursed himself deep down inside, where he hoped it would do some good. He should not have the feelings he had for her. No good could ever come of them. He’d known that for years, and up until recently, he’d been able to keep everything well concealed. Roger Nightingale’s anger over these recent events could be deadly.
Although he doubted the man would go that far—even though the involvement of one of his daughters tipped the scale considerably—Scooter had long ago accepted the fact the man would never consider a grease monkey good enough to marry one of his daughters.
Roger maintained a friendly relationship with everyone in White Bear Lake, but he’d also let it be known his daughters were one step down from royalty, and would be treated as such. Scooter had to agree with that. That’s how he knew he’d forever be out of Josie’s league.
When this was all over, he didn’t doubt the entire family would disassociate themselves from anything that had to do with Scooter and his family. Maize’s hope of her job at the resort growing into something more would be shattered. His mother would no longer be accepted in the Bald Eagle Ladies Aid Society—that, he could live with, but she wouldn’t take it lightly. Even Jonas, as young as he was, would be affected. He’d be shunned. Anyone who went against the Nightingales was looked down upon. Everyone in the entire area knew their livelihoods were due to Roger’s success and the way he expanded his good fortune to include all of their businesses. Their families.
As much as all of that was true, none of it mattered to him, leastwise not as much as never seeing Josie again. That would be hard to live with.
She was looking up at him with those big blue eyes. Not saying a word, just looking at him as if she expected him to have all the answers to her woes. He wished he did. And he hadn’t needed to see those pencil marks she’d now wiped away. They’d proven to him just how adorable she’d be even years from now, when her youth started to wane and age crept up on her. She’d still be beautiful. Still be full of a spark that would keep her and those around her young and kicking up their heels.
Her eyes would never lose their shine. They’d still sparkle and twinkle... Something snapped in his mind then. Her eyes. Blue, not brown. Clyde Odell. The man wanted to take down Francine, and with the backing of J.
P. Morgan, he could.
Scooter was in the midst of trying to piece things together when the truck rolled to a complete stop.
Dac’s door opened, and a moment later, the way his head popped up over the high side rails said he stood on the cab’s running board. “How y’all doing back there?”
“Fine.” Scooter stood and helped Josie to her feet before he squeezed between the side rail and his tarp-covered motorcycle so he could ask Dac a question. “You know anywhere around here that has a phone?” He considered whispering, but Dac wouldn’t have been able to hear over the truck’s engine, and keeping Josie from hearing would have been a moot point. She was pressed up against his back, once again making his skin tingle.
“Yeah, there’s a place where I drop loads up the road,” Dac said. “It’s a roadhouse, but I’d never advise eating at it. That’s just their cover.”
“But they have a phone?” Scooter asked.
“Yes, they have a phone,” Dac replied. “Who you gonna call?”
“US Steel,” Scooter half mumbled. He wasn’t sure Clyde would help, but couldn’t come up with anything else. Slapping the wooden rail, he said, “Drive, Dac.”
The man nodded and disappeared. Scooter spun around and took Josie’s arm. “Sit down,” he said. “Dac’s known for missing first gear.”
Just as he’d warned her, the truck coughed and jerked before the wheels turned fast enough to catch up with the engine. The ride grew smoother, but not much considering the rough road.
“Why are you going to call US Steel?” Josie asked.
“Because that’s where Dave’s car is.”
The relief that crossed her face jolted his heart rougher than Dac’s driving shook the truck. So did the way she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Thank you, Scooter,” she said, her face buried into the front of his shoulder. “Thank you.”
He wasn’t nearly as excited, or relieved, as she seemed to be, yet he didn’t have the heart to tell her his plan didn’t have a whole lot of meat behind it. Grasping her shoulders, he separated them slightly. Her arms were still around his neck, and the idea of kissing her overcame his thoughts for several long seconds. Memories of doing just that had his heart rate climbing and he battled against his good sense like a first class soldier.
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