Declan’s jaw tensed; he could feel the veins in his neck tighten. “I thought I told you to get the hell out of this town?”
“I can’t.”
“Yeah, you can. Get in your car and drive. It’s simple.”
O’Reilly shook his head. “You saved my life, and I’m not leaving until I know you’re safe.”
“You have got to be shitting me. If I knew you were going to become a royal pain in my ass, I would have let you die.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. It’s not who you are.”
“And who is that, exactly?”
“A good guy.”
“You’ve been hanging out with too many low lives if you think I’m a good guy.”
“When are you going to realize you were never one of them?”
“When are you going to realize that I was? I was born into it. It was practically in my DNA. When my old man died, those guys took me in, clothed me, fed me, put a roof over my head. I lived with them, worked with them, committed crimes with them. I was one of them.”
“You were a kid.”
Declan shook his head at the bullshit coming out of O’Reilly’s mouth. “Stop downplaying it.” Everybody had a choice, and he’d chosen the wrong one by staying. After his old man died, he could have left, could have figured something out. He was a survivor; he would have found a way.
“I’m not downplaying shit! You were born into it. That wasn’t your choice. It was your father’s, and when he was killed you were too young to be on your own, so you stayed, but only because you didn’t have a choice. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?”
Declan’s temper flared, fire burned in his veins, and he stepped toward O’Reilly, but O’Reilly didn’t budge. The man never showed fear, and it was something Declan had always respected. “I could’ve taken off, figured something out.”
“And lived on the streets? They would have tracked you down anyway. Staying with them was the smartest thing you could have done.”
“I stayed with them for ten years after my old man died. Ten fucking years. I could’ve gotten out sooner. I should’ve gotten out sooner.”
“You stayed to watch out for Vegas.”
“A lot of fucking good that did.”
Vegas was his dad’s best friend, and after his dad was killed, he was voted in as the new president. Problem was half the club wanted Vegas out because, like Declan’s dad, he didn’t want to get into the drug and weapon business. In motorcycle clubs, club business was brought to a vote and majority ruled. If he had left, the tables would have dipped and the legacy his dad fought for would have been tainted by the very thing that killed Declan’s mom.
Tension had grown overtime, but for ten years, Vegas managed to keep the peace and keep the club away from drugs and guns while Declan spent his time working in the garage that did good business, but was mainly a front. Around the time O’Reilly weaseled his way into the club, Trigger and the other guys were dealing under the table against club rules. It’s why O’Reilly was there, but Declan didn’t find that out until shit started to hit the fan. Trigger called the shots but never got his hands dirty—at least that O’Reilly had ever witnessed, which is why the bastard was getting out. He should have been serving more time than the rest of them, but he was a smart son of a bitch.
“I was there too, if you’ve forgotten,” O’Reilly said. “Other than minor infractions, you never committed any real crimes. You spent most your days fixing bikes and cars. Vegas kept you on the inside but at enough of a distance that you would never fall too hard. I was there to bring down the illegal drug and gun smuggling, and I learned early on that you and Vegas had no part in any of it.”
That was true. Vegas kept him protected, gave him a job that, for the most part was legal, and in return Declan gave him his vote. He was more or less a body that kept the tides from turning. If only he knew what had been going on behind closed doors, maybe he could’ve stopped it before the feds got involved.
Instead Vegas died, and Declan took out the rest in one fell swoop, selling out his brothers and becoming the ultimate snitch. One minute Satan’s Children was amongst the most notorious gangs and the next, they were completely wiped off the map, at least in Southern California. There were other sanctions throughout the country, but after everything that went down, they kept their distance, not wanting to meet the same fate.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. Trigger’s going to get out, and he’s going to try and find me. He’ll either kill me or I’ll kill him. The only way this will end is with one of us dead.” It was something he’d accepted in the last few days. He should have met his fate years ago, yet he managed to squeak by and find this town, Calhoun’s, the people, Layla. If he died, at least he’d die happy.
“He’s not going to kill you. I won’t let him.”
“And how do you plan on stopping him?” Declan asked.
“I don’t know yet, but I will.”
“Don’t you have a job you have to get back to?”
O’Reilly went silent, his jaw tightened a tiny tick noticeable at the center. “I’m on paid leave.”
“What the fuck for?”
“My partner was killed.”
“Fuck. What did him in? A bullet?”
“A fucking car. We had infiltrated a drug ring, and we were about to take them down when one of the perps figured it out, jumped in a car to get the hell out of there, then gunned it for us. My partner wasn’t fast enough. By the time I hit the ground he was gone. You can plan for every outcome and think there’s no way you’re not getting out of this, then something happens that you didn’t anticipate and you’re nothing more than a victim to the chaos.”
It all started to become clear. “You couldn’t save your partner, so what? You think by saving me you’ll still get your staircase to the guy upstairs? I have news for you. I’m not the type of guy the big man wants saved. You’re wasting your fucking time. I’m sorry about your partner, that sucks, but saving me isn’t going to bring him back. So do us both a favor, get in your car, and get the hell out of here.”
“He got out today, Declan.”
Panic rushed through him like a geyser. He fought to keep it at bay. He didn’t do fear; it made people irritational. He wouldn’t let the panic control him. He took a deep breath, centering himself. “I thought you said the end of the month?”
“That’s what I thought, but I found out an hour ago it was today.”
Declan spun away, shoving his hands in his hair. He needed to think. The damn clock was ticking.
“How’d you find me?” Declan asked, needing to know if the information was something that was easy to come by.
“I have a friend at the department of motor vehicle. I was able to trace your name change and from there I searched the system at the station. You had no offenses so your name didn’t ping any of my searches.”
“Thank God for little favors,” Declan said. “So, if you couldn’t trace me through any of that, then how?”
O’Reilly shook his head, a stupid grin forming on his face. Was the jackass really smiling right now?
“I was looking through one of those stupid celebrity rag magazines and there was a picture of that hot actress… What’s her name?”
Declan’s heart sank. “Bex Shepard.”
O’Reilly snapped his fingers and pointed. “That’s the one. Anyway, I saw her picture with some article about her dating some small-town fireman. I thought lucky fucking bastard and then across the street from where she was walking, I spotted a guy who looked familiar. On closer inspection I knew it was you. Once I had that piece to the puzzle, it was easy to track you down.”
“All from a fucking paparazzi picture? Are you kidding me?”
“The good thing about it is I didn’t find you searching any computers. It was a stroke of luck.”
“Which means Trigger won’t have an easy time at it either.”
“Unless he already knows where you are. It’ll take him time to
track you. Which is why I think it’s best you get the hell out of here.”
Declan shook his head. It would be the smart thing to do. “I’m not leaving.”
“You always were a stubborn ass.”
“I gave up running five years ago. I’ll be damned if I pick that shit back up again. Besides, I won’t leave Layla here unprotected. Even if he doesn’t make a connection between us, I refuse to let him even breathe the same air as her.”
“How do you plan on doing that?”
“I don’t know. I told you I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her when you can’t. And I think you should let the local sheriff know what’s going on just in case.”
“What the hell am I supposed to say? Hey Matt, just so you know I used to be part of a notorious biker gang and one of them is out to kill me. He might show up in town. Thought I’d give you a heads up in case my dead body shows up in the woods.”
“Yeah, why not?”
“The last thing I need is to get Matt involved in any of this. It’s my fight, no one else’s.”
“It’s not a fight, Declan. It’s a death wish.”
The reality of O’Reilly’s words punched him in the gut. He always knew it would be a fight to the death, but now with Layla things were different. Layla had lost so many people in her life already; he couldn’t let her lose him, too.
Chapter 16
Layla made her usual rounds, thoughts of Declan running through her head. She couldn’t wait to be back in his arms, his mouth roaming along her neck, his hands sending her on a trip down pleasure lane. Hot sparks of longing erupted in her core, and she loved how just thinking of him could bring her on the brink of ecstasy. It was more than the pleasure, though. He made her happy.
“I know that look,” Ethel said as she rolled up beside Layla in her wheelchair.
Embarrassment sent heat to Layla’s cheeks. “What look?”
“You went and fell in love, didn’t you?” Ethel sighed. “Can’t say I blame you. I’ve seen the man, and if I was younger, I’d be all over that.”
“Well, thank heavens you’re not. I don’t think I could compete with the likes of you.”
Ethel swatted her hand, her bracelets clacking together. “While I was a hot toddy back in my day, that man only has eyes for you. I have only one request.”
“What’s that?” Layla asked.
“I want to be invited to the wedding.”
“Wedding?” Layla laughed. “Don’t go jumping ahead of yourself. We just started dating, and we’re taking it one day at a time.”
“Back in my day people met, two weeks later they were engaged, and a few months after that married.”
“That’s probably why Freida’s been married three times,” Layla said.
“She’s been married three times because she’s a royal pain in the butt.”
“I heard my name.” Freida parked next to Ethel and blocked the hallway. “What are you talking about?”
“Your failed marriage,” Ethel said.
“Which one?”
“All of them.”
“Hey, one stuck around until he croaked on me. Not all of us could have been married for sixty years,” Freida said to Ethel. “Didn’t you get bored of sleeping with the same man?”
Ethel’s eyebrows rose above her thick purple framed glasses. “When you have the right man, honey, not at all.”
Layla smiled at the sweet sentiment. She couldn’t imagine ever getting bored of Declan, but she didn’t know if it was because it was new and exciting or if it was something that would be everlasting. Though, she whole heartedly believed it was the latter.
Ethel sighed. “My Leonard could do things with his tongue—”
Layla clapped her hands together. “How about those Red Sox?”
Ethel shot her a glance. “I never took you for a prude.”
“There are some things better left unsaid.” Layla couldn’t imagine talking about the things her and Declan did behind closed doors. Those intimate moments were for them and no one else, and she liked it that way.
“Maybe if more woman talked about it,” Ethel said, hiking her thumb toward Freida. “This one wouldn’t have had to go through three husbands to figure it out.”
“My exes knew what they were doing. The problem was they were having too much practice with other women.”
“Ladies!” Arthur said, coming up behind them. His big bushy eyebrows wiggled at Freida. “There is so much beauty in this hallway it’s blinding.”
“That’s your glaucoma,” Freida said.
He sidled up beside her wheelchair and patted his chest. “Your words wound me.”
“You keep saying that, yet you keep standing.”
“Play nice, you two,” Layla said. She checked her watch. It was time for Mr. Haggard’s meds. “I’ll see you three later.”
As Layla turned, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur reach for his pocket. “Arthur!” Layla said, snatching the candy bar he just slipped to Freida. Freida tried to use her back to cover it, but her eighty-seven-year-old reflexes weren’t as quick as Layla’s. “You’re the one giving her the chocolate?”
“When a beautiful woman asks for a favor, you oblige.”
“Are you kidding me? If she asked you to kill for her, would you?” Sometimes Layla felt like she had been transported back ten years and was battling it out with young teenagers.
Arthur shrugged nonchalantly. “Depends on the reason.”
“That’s my cue to leave,” Ethel said, shoving her way past.
“Thanks a lot, Benedict Arnold,” Freida mumbled.
Layla let out a perturbed breath and focused her attention back on Arthur. “Unbelievable. You do realize how dangerous these are for her health.”
“I think her curves are lovely, and you should be ashamed for trying to make her diet and lose them.” Layla’s eyes dropped to Freida who was doing everything in her power not to look at her.
“Is that what you told him? I have you on a diet to lose weight?”
It was laughable. Freida wasn’t even considered overweight. She was right where she needed to be on the scale for her height and age, and here she was feeding lies to Arthur so she could continue snacking.
Freida turned her nose up higher, and Layla focused her attention back to Arthur. “Arthur, I confiscate candy from her because she’s diabetic.”
“Diabetic!” Arthur exclaimed.
Layla nodded.
“You tricked me!” Arthur bellowed, his warm brown eyes showing betrayal.
Freida waved her hand at him. “Oh please. You’re making this a much bigger deal than it actually is.”
The frown lines around Arthur’s mouth deepened. “My sister lost her foot to diabetes.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you.”
A flash of regret passed in Freida’s eyes. “Arthur…” She reached for his hand, but he yanked it away from her.
“Find someone else to get you candy. I’m done with you.” He shuffled away, pulling on his sagging khaki pants as he went.
“What have we learned from this?” Layla asked, hoping that she’d finally get through to Freida on this matter.
Freida’s glare turned from somber to deadly. “That you’re the biggest buzzkill around.” She spun her wheelchair around with determination and rolled away.
“I’m doing it for you!” Layla called after her.
“Shove it up your rear,” Freida said as she turned into her room and out of sight.
An hour later, Layla was getting ready to leave. She felt bad about her little tiff with Freida, so she stopped by her room to try and make things right.
She knocked on the door as she entered. Freida sat in her wheelchair in the corner, staring out the window.
“I’m getting ready to leave,” Layla said.
“Would you like a cookie?” Freida asked. “Well, too bad. I wouldn’t give you one if I had it, which I don’t since you keep taking my swee
ts away.”
“I do it because I care.”
“Save it for someone who gives a damn.”
“We both know this is not about the candy,” Layla said.
“What else could it be about?”
“Arthur.”
Freida glanced away from the window, a look of forced disgust on her face. “I could care less about him.”
“Keep telling yourself that, and maybe you’ll believe it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, are you some expert in relationships because you found a man who will sleep with you?”
“I’m going to let that slide because you’re upset.”
“I’m not upset. I’m annoyed because I’m trying to enjoy my view, and you won’t stop babbling on about nonsense.”
“Fine, be mad at me.”
“Fine, I will.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Whatever.”
With a sigh, Layla left Freida alone. Layla knew by tomorrow she’d be over her sour mood and back to plotting more schemes on how to get her chocolate fix. Maybe Layla could find her some sugar free options that could help with her sweet tooth. She made a mental note to do just that, grabbed her bag, and headed out.
She waved to Maxine as they met up in the lobby.
“Let me guess, Ethel was accusing someone of stealing her jewelry?”
“Nope, caught Arthur giving Freida candy. She’s not too happy with me.”
“I’m sure I’ll hear all about it when I make my rounds.”
“You know it.” They said their goodbyes and Layla continued on.
It was the first real crisp day of the year, and Layla draped her scarf over her neck to protect against the gentle breeze. Overhead the changing leaves rustled. The sun shown brightly above, and the sweet smell of fall lingered in the air.
Pretty soon the days would turn cold and snow would cover the ground, but for now, it was Layla’s favorite time of year. A smile on her face, she continued on to her car.
She reached for the handle and pulled when a hand slapped against her mouth. Her body slammed hard against the stranger as his other arm locked around hers. She tried to scream, but her cries were muffled against the black leather glove. She lashed out, using her body to kick and buck, wishing like hell she would have taken those self-defense classes the sheriff’s department hosted.
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