Rand shrugged. “He never asked.”
I groaned. “What is it with you and making people ask?”
He inserted the key and turned, opening the door. An alarm beeped, warning us to enter the code or run like hell.
“Do you have the code?” I asked.
He walked to the panel and punched in a code. It didn’t silence. “He must have changed it.”
“We need to get out of here,” I said, turning to run.
“Hang on. What’s your birthday?”
“June twenty-first.”
He entered my birthdate, silencing the alarm. “You called me the idiot?” he questioned.
Brett used my birthdate? It was a sucker-punch to my heart.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re running out of daylight. I don’t want to be around after dark.”
Starting our search on the first floor, we opened every closet and cabinet we came across. It was all filled with things necessary to a home. Dishes, glassware, a broom in the closet. What wasn’t necessary was the bottle of champagne chilling in the refrigerator. Who was he saving it for?
The “cabin” was clean with furniture still new, barely touched. But I could tell Brett had come here. The accent pillows were askew, junk mail on the coffee table next to an open police and security catalog.
I flipped through the mail to see when it was sent. Most were dated over three weeks ago. That was probably the last time he was here. At the time, I was seeing Evan. So, who was the champagne for?
And why did I care?
“I’m heading upstairs. You coming?” Rand asked.
“Yeah.” I tossed the mail back onto the table and followed Rand up the wide, circular stairs, which led to an open landing that looked down over the living space below.
Four bedrooms. Three bathrooms.
Cabin, my ass.
The view from the master bedroom was stunning. It looked out at the gulf with nothing to block the view.
After digging through drawers and mostly empty closets, we came up dry again.
“Is there a basement?” I asked.
Rand shook his head.
“I don’t know what we were expecting to find,” Rand said. “But it’s not here.”
“I guess we were trying to find a lead,” I said. “Something that ties Brett to his life as an assassin.”
“There’s nothing here. I remember the blueprint, and he’s done nothing to modify this place.”
“Then why did he make such a big deal when I asked if he wanted to come here? He practically shouted at me.” I was beginning to surmise that if I were to live for a thousand lifetimes, I’d never understand Brett . . . or Rand. Maybe it was a family trait.
“I don’t know,” Rand said. “You’d have to ask him. But there’s nothing here. Maybe he was just having an off moment. Either way, we need to go. If Brett has alarm activity notifications sent to him, he’ll know someone was here.”
“So, he’ll come here?”
“Most likely.” Rand smiled, lighting a cigarette and offering one to me. “Still looking for a bad habit?”
“You built this house. You wouldn’t destroy it.”
“Want to bet on it?”
“No, we can’t set it on fire. But I might just take up stealing.”
On our way out, I stole the bottle of champagne. It was a small consolation prize, but it felt like sweet victory when I smashed it into his mailbox, knocking it clear off the post and sending mail, sparkling wine, and glass everywhere.
* * *
“Mars, we have information on the mysterious phone number. The bikers are rested and ready to ride,” Mrs. Janowski shouted into the phone.
“Ride where?” I asked, watching as Rand pumped gas into his motorcycle tank.
“Aaron was able to locate the number to a place in Boston.”
“Aaron? We weren’t going to ask him for help. What happened?”
“The little stinker had been hacked into our tablet the entire time. He saw what we were doing and helped us.”
I rubbed my forehead. Kym is going to kill me. “So the number belongs to a place in Boston. Is there any other information, like a company or person’s name?”
“Nothing. Just an address. But since it’s our only lead, we’re heading out. How far away are you?”
“About two hours. Go without us and we’ll catch up.”
“Perfect. By the time you reach us, we might have met up with the Comets.”
“I thought they were heading to California.” Had I heard my dad wrong? It was possible. I was too busy worrying about him traveling across the country on the back of motorcycle driven by a man named Pot Hole.
And now I’m doing the same thing. I eyed Rand. At least I was riding with him. Wait… did I just think that? That Rand would be preferable to anyone meant the world had reversed polarity.
“When I talked to your dad, he said they’d stopped at a couple of universities for the wormhole thing they’ve been working on, but their final destination is MIT, which is in Massachusetts. They said they’d have our backs once we got there.”
Great, Dad and Pot Hole were going to have our backs. If it wasn’t for the dozens of other bikers who actually looked as if they could hold their own in a fight, I might have cried.
I still might.
“Did you find anything at Brett’s cabin?” Mrs. Janowski asked.
I snorted. “A bottle of champagne, and nothing else.”
“Well, it was worth a shot,” she said. “It looks like we’re loaded and ready to move out. I’ll call you at the next pit stop.”
“Thanks, Mrs. J.,” I said. “Just be careful.”
“You too, dear.”
I ended the call. “They’re heading to Boston.”
“I heard.” Rand straddled the bike. “Are you sure you want to look for the texter? Boston is about seventeen hundred miles away, and if he knows what the gatekeeper and Brett are up to, he might not be the friend you’re looking for.”
“I don’t want a friend. I want answers. I want to live until I’m as old as Mrs. J. I want to pester the next-door neighbors with my crazy plans and even crazier friends.”
He cocked a brow. “A simple yes would have been fine.”
“Then, yes, I do want to find the helpful texter who saved my life.”
“I’ve been wondering about that.”
“Wondering about what?”
“Why he would warn you? He obviously knows about the hitman site and what it’s all about. People are dying every day due to that site alone. So, why help you? Why does he feel the need to draw the line at saving an innocent person?”
“Maybe because I am innocent.” I shrugged. “Maybe the other targets on the site are corrupt crime lords.”
He shook his head. “I don’t buy it. I bet there are few husbands or wives out there looking to knock off their spouse. It wouldn’t be the first time. I don’t trust the texter.”
“I’m not saying I trust him either. But at least he warned me.”
Rand scanned the gas station. “Hop on. I’m starting to get a bad vibe about this place.”
I took a quick glance around but didn’t see anything or anyone. But he was right. Instant chills froze through me. I swung my leg over the bike and settled behind Rand.
“Head the opposite way and loop back around,” I suggested. “If someone is watching us, they’ll think we headed west.”
“I hope you’re right. Outrunning a car on a motorcycle isn’t like what you see in movies.”
“And you would know this how?”
He revved the engine. “Never tell Emily she looks like rabid squirrel when she eats.”
Holding on to Rand as he pulled out of the gas station, I found myself confused once again. Not only at Rand and Emily’s dysfunctional relationship, but by the texter. Rand was right. I should be leery, but what else could I do other than try to get more information?
No, it was better to follow this through and find th
e mystery person. There was no turning back, either way.
Chapter 14
“I need ice,” Ida moaned, face down on the hotel bed. “I think I broke my butt.”
“We all need ice,” Edna complained.
Rand and I had met up with the ladies and their biker crew in Nashville. It had been a long day and a half of driving and we hadn’t caught up with the Comets yet. We thought that by staying overnight in the city we might blend into the crowd, avoiding unwanted attention.
“I always thought it’d be fun to ride cross-country on a motorcycle,” Mrs. Janowski said. “I can honestly say that the magic might have worn off a bit.”
“A bit?” Ida snapped. “I’m not going to be able to move for weeks.”
“Can we fly the rest of the way?” Edna pleaded.
“And leave the riders to bike it alone?” Mrs. Janowski scolded.
“But they’re bikers. That’s what they do,” Ida stated.
Mrs. Janowski gave a small shrug as if Ida might have made a valid point, but it would still take a round of intense arguing to get her to agree.
“What about you, Sylvia?” Edna asked.
“Yes, you’ve been awfully quiet over there,” Mrs. Janowski said.
“I’m not as old as the rest of you,” she boasted. “My body is still in its prime.”
“Poppycock,” Ida said, digging out her flask from beneath her pillow, wincing at the movement.
“Then why are you all icing your posteriors when I don’t have to?” she asked smugly.
Mrs. Janowski eyed her suspiciously. “Turn around.”
“Why?”
“You’re wearing your booty poppers,” Mrs. Janowski surmised.
“Booty poppers?” I asked.
“They’re gel inserts to lift and pad your behind,” Mrs. Janowski said. “You’ve been riding with the inserts, haven’t you, Sylvia?”
Sylvia shrugged.
“Where can I buy them?” Edna asked miserably.
Ida laughed, spraying whiskey from her mouth. “I’d give my entire savings just to watch you ask a clerk for booty poppers.”
“You might want to take back your words, because another road trip like this one and I’ll crawl to the store, begging,” she stated, resettling herself into a comfortable position.
Rand lifted his brow. “I’ll head to my room.”
“What about dinner?” I asked.
“Would you mind if I baled?” he asked. “I’m tired.”
He did look tired, and for good reason. He had been the sole driver with hardly any downtime. It couldn’t have been easy. And the fact that he asked if I minded instead of blatantly telling me to jump in a lake told me he wasn’t feeling his usual.
“I don’t mind,” I said. “Can I bring you dinner?”
He shook his head. “I’ll just order room service.”
“Room service,” Ida moaned. “Can we get room service too?”
“I want room service,” Edna chimed in.
“What about going out to eat?” Sylvia asked. “We’re only in Nashville once. We might not ever come back.”
“She’s right,” Mrs. Janowski said. “But I can’t seem to get off the bed. Why don’t you and Mars go out? The rest of us will have room service.”
“And bring back a truck load of ice, booty poppers, and pain pills,” Ida said.
“You old stick in the mud.” Sylvia grabbed her purse and sashayed to the door. “Ready, Mars? We can grab some of the bikers on the way out.”
“Leave the bikers alone,” Mrs. Janowski warned. “We need them bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow.”
“That’s okay. We’re in Nashville,” she said with a little shrug. “There’s bound to be plenty of other tails here.”
I followed her out the door, wondering what excuse I could come up with to run back inside with the other ladies. As farfetched as it seemed, Mrs. J. was by far a safer companion than Sylvia. But, I did need to walk and stretch my legs.
“Dinner or booty poppers first?” she asked as we stepped into the elevator, patting her curled hair to ensure it was in place.
“I’m more stiff than hungry,” I said. “Why don’t we go shopping for supplies and then get dinner.” Not that I wanted to shop for bum padding, but Sylvia was walking as though she didn’t just drive hundreds of miles on the back of motorcycle. She might be on to something.
“And then to the bar.”
“No bar for me,” I said. “I need a good night’s sleep. I don’t like it when I nod off on the bike. I wake up startled. I’m afraid I’ll fall off or cause an accident.”
Plus, Rand had already yelled at me for drooling on his back. That’s a conversation I’d rather not have again.
“Left or right?” Sylvia asked when we made it out to the sidewalk.
Hesitating for a moment, I looked down both sides of the street. While it was nighttime, there were lights everywhere. Along the street, on signs, in windows. I didn’t know much about Nashville other than what I’d seen on television or read about. But we seemed to be in a trendy area with plenty of people milling about—most of the decent variety. A perfect place to stay hidden.
Slightly at ease with the situation, I said, “It looks like either way we go, we’ll find what we need.”
“Right it is, then,” she said. “I always feel better when I stick to the right.”
“Where do you think we’ll find the padding?” I asked, having no experience with it myself since I had all the natural padding I needed, plus more.
She stopped, squeezing my arm. “There!”
As I followed the path of her pointed finger, I saw the worst place imaginable for Sylvia. “We’re not going in there.”
“Why not?”
“Because we won’t find ice packs or pain reliever in there.” The booty lifts, probably.
“Are you kidding me? Of course they’ll have it in there.”
“An adult shop will have all the supplies we need?”
“You never know when down and dirty might become tweaked and twisted.”
“Still, I’d rather—”
“Don’t be a prude. I’ll have to start calling you Edna,” she said.
“But I’ve never actually been inside one of those stores,” I admitted. Why I admitted such a thing was beyond me. I mean, I know generally what’s in that kind of store. And Evan had brought over a few interesting and fun surprises that had to have been purchased at an adult store. But I had never stepped foot inside one.
“Never?” she gasped.
That was probably the wrong thing to say, I realized too late as she pulled me along the street and through the door.
“Virgin coming through!” she hollered as she tugged me in.
Curious eyes in all directions turned to me.
“I’m not a virgin,” I half whispered, half scolded. “And these people don’t need to know one way or the other.”
“Not like that,” she scoffed. “You’re an adult-store virgin. We have to remedy that quickly.”
“I think you just did,” I said, glancing around the store. “Why is it dark in here?”
“Mood lighting for nighttime shoppers. Plus, it’s harder to pick out your neighbor from across the room. Although, it’s happened a couple of times.” She leaned over to whisper, “Awkward the next day at the mailbox.”
At the mention of mailboxes, my thoughts immediately snapped to Brett, wondering where he was and where Annie might be. Suddenly, the city filled with strangers no longer seemed like a haven to hide, but more like a trap. Did they know where we were headed, and why?
“Check this guy out,” Sylvia said from two rows down, holding up a . . . package. “Twelve inches! Looks real too.” She waved it back and forth.
Heaven help me. It was going to take a miracle to get her out of here.
“Did you find the padding?” I asked, hoping to steer her back on track.
“No, but I found a johnson extender. Not that you’d ever need it
with your current beaus. But tuck it away for later. I’ve wished I had one of these babies plenty of times.” She shook her head with a sigh. “Look, it’s even gel for your comfort.”
“I don’t have any current beaus,” I corrected. And, I’ll never have one again. They’re bad for my health and sanity. “Let’s just find the supplies and get out of here. I’m hungry.”
I wasn’t. My appetite had fled as soon as my eyes caught on the fetish room off to the side. It reminded me of Fenwig’s basement. There wasn’t enough time or alcohol to make me forget being chained to the brick wall while Brett bled next to me.
Thankfully, Sylvia must have decided that she was hungry too. She found everything we needed plus an extra-large bottle of lubricant.
When she saw me staring at it questionably, she said, “Wetter is better.” She leaned in confidentially. “You’ll find out what I mean in a few years when the clock no longer ticks and the wind chimes haven’t seen a good rain for way too long.”
I really needed to get out of here, I thought as I headed to the door. “I’ll just wait out here,” I called to Sylvia.
Leaning against the wall outside, I watched as pedestrians moved along the sidewalk. I was a sitting duck in the midst of other ducks. I knew Brett would find me. It was only a matter of time. A part of me wanted him to. I yearned for a confrontation. But I also wasn’t prepared for his betrayal. Hearing something and coming face to face with it was two very different things. They both hurt, but one would rip a soul to shreds.
Jack? I pushed up from the wall to stand on my tiptoes. I swore I had seen a flash of his ponytail. There. He headed into a bar across the street.
Ducking back into the adult store, I called to Sylvia to meet me over there when she was finished checking out. She nodded and resumed flirting with the clerk. I sighed. Was there a man alive that she wouldn’t flirt with?
Beelining across the road, I stepped into the nightclub. The room was deep, scattered with patrons. The bar was off to the left, and a jazz band was playing onstage at the far end. The vibe here was smooth, relaxed.
Scanning the room for Jack, I found him in a circular booth off to the right side of the stage.
Biker Brigade Page 13