Butch nodded, but his eyes were dazed, not focusing well. His voice was weak and distant instead of its usual rumble. “Sure thing.”
Marty got to work sterilizing the wound. Tank came back, holding a bottle of rum. Bo nodded toward Butch and Tank went straight to him, uncapping the bottle, holding it up to Butch’s mouth.
“Say when.” Tank drizzled rum into Butch’s mouth until he gagged. Droplets of rum sprayed through the air.
“When,” Butch croaked out a second later.
Marty held up the forceps, which he’d just sterilized. “Here goes nothing.” Grimacing, he plunged the forceps into the bullet wound. Butch tensed and then groaned, his voice strangled and raw. Bo held onto his wrists with all his might, unable to look away from Marty’s pseudo-surgical procedure. Marty poked and prodded, Butch’s groans growing more haunting, until Marty’s eyes lit up.
“I feel it.” Marty poked his tongue out between his lips, and then gasped. “I got it!”
Bo gritted his teeth, clamping down harder on Butch’s wrist as Marty extracted the bullet. He held it up in the air, the tiny missile glistening in blood and bodily fluids. His laugh sounded somewhere between shock and delight. “This is it!”
Butch groaned. “Gimme some more of that rum.”
Tank fed him the rum as requested and Bo relaxed his grip. “You can sew him up, right?”
“Yeah, I’ve got that.” Marty waved it off like it Bo had asked him whether or not he could spell. “Cakewalk from here.”
Bo nodded, surveying the scene, his panic receding into the background, like a fog disappearing in the morning sun. “Awesome. I’m gonna go check on Dakota. I’ll be back in a bit.”
He slapped Tank’s back on his way out of the sanctuary, stepping over a few errant beer bottles on his way to the bedroom. As he reached for the doorknob, he noticed the gnarly streaks of blood coating his hands. He couldn’t climb into bed with Dakota looking like that. The ‘I told you do’ would be even bigger, and she might never let him touch her again.
He headed for the bathroom, sizing himself up in the mirror as he scrubbed his hands in scalding hot water. A streak of blood had made it to his cheek, as well. He rinsed his face off, dropped his black hoodie into the laundry basket, and then headed back into the bedroom.
Tiredness clawed at him, made him eager to slip into the warm bed with his sleeping lover. He grinned as he turned the knob, already imagining the soft lines of her face as she slept. Dakota was a part of life he could get used to…even though it meant confronting the ugly parts squirreled away deep inside him. She would be worth it. He could already tell.
The darkness of the bedroom greeted him, the covers an inscrutable mess on the bed. Her scent hung in the air, mingling pleasantly with the familiar smell of his bedroom. It was another proof that the two of the mixed together perfectly. Unlike past lovers whose perfumes and smells made him eager to bathe after sex, stinging his nostrils like a chemical.
Bo slipped out of his jeans and socks, tugging his plain white t-shirt over his head. He eased into the bed slowly, trying not to disturb her. The comforters felt strangely cold, so he burrowed into them, reaching for her body.
His palm met the cool surface of his sheets. He pushed himself up onto an elbow, groping the darkness, fingers searching for her warmth.
Nothing.
He swallowed a knot of anxiety that had lodged itself into his throat and swept his hands back and forth over the bed. No Dakota. He leapt out of bed and flicked the lights on.
In the glaring brightness of the room, Dakota was nowhere to be found. He tore the covers off the bed for good measure—like there was a possibliy she might have been hiding at the bottom of a bed like a child—and checked on the other side of the room. He stormed into the bathroom—no one. He stood in the middle of his bedroom, surveying the unnerving absence of another person, when he realized her suitcase was gone too.
“Fuck.” He grabbed for his phone on the night stand, barely able to see past the haze of desperation. Something might have happened to her. Maybe she’d gone out for something, to get a bite to eat, with one of the guys, and never come back. Turbo had been on duty last night—maybe he had some information.
He dialed her number, pressing the phone to his ear. The line went straight to voicemail. He called three more times, and the same thing happened each time. Not even a ring. Her phone was off.
Bo set the phone down, tugging his pants on hastily. Turbo had to know. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation to all of this.
He burst out of his bedroom, heading for Turbo’s room down the hall. He knocked softly then pushed the door open, poking his head in. “Turbo? It’s Bo.”
There was a grunt, and then Turbo’s groggy voice. “What’s up?”
“Have you seen Dakota?”
The rustling of bedcovers, followed by, “What?”
“I can’t find Dakota. She’s gone. Was she here last night with you?”
Turbo yawned, then sniffed. “Um…yeah. Yeah she was. I sat with her in the kitchen while she ate dinner.”
“Did she mention anything about leaving?”
“No, dude. Nothing at all. I thought she was just gonna hang out and call it an early night.”
Bo pinched his eyes shut. “She’s gone, and her phone’s off.”
“Ask some of the other guys out front. They might have seen her. I didn’t hang around long after we talked.”
Bo nodded. “Thanks, brother.” He shut the door quietly and headed for the front lounge, where music still pulsed quietly. The sounds of Marty and Butch in the sanctuary reached him, their voices quiet murmurs.
Bo headed for Jerry, who was passed out on the couch. He grabbed him by the neck of his shirt, shaking him awake. His bright blue eyes popped open, confusion knitting across his face. His curly brown hair was bordered on afro after his stint on the couch.
“Hey. You seen Dakota?”
Jerry blinked up at him, like he might not be sure if this was a dream. “Who?”
“Dakota. The girl who did your tattoo yesterday.” He shook him, to jostle him out of his stupor. “You hung out here last night. Was she around?”
“Bo, nothing happened, I swear. I don’t even remember—”
Bo tightened his grip on his collar. “She’s gone. Did you see her last night?”
Jerry relaxed a little, brow furrowing. “Uh…no. Not really. I was mostly hanging with the Angels last night. Doing shots n’ stuff.”
“Who else was here?”
Jerry sat up a little, gesturing to the girls on the couches across the room. “All of them. A few of the guys left. Turbo was here for a while, but not long.”
Bo released him and stormed across the room, eyes on Nance. She’d carried a flame for him for too damn long, and if anyone kept an eye on Dakota, it would be her, though not for the right reasons. Bo had made the mistake of hooking up with her a few times last year, and she’d stuck like glue ever since.
“Nance. Wake up.” He gently shook her shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open, clarity searing across her face. She sat up, clearing her throat.
“Bo. What can I do for you?”
“Where’s Dakota?”
She deflated slightly, like maybe she’d been hoping for something a bit more intimate in the early morning hours. “How should I know?”
“You were hanging out here all night.” He searched her face for an answer. “Did you see her?”
“Yeah. She left around midnight I think.”
Dread slunk through his insides. He hadn’t considered the fact that maybe she’d left on her own accord. “What? By herself?”
“Yeah. She had a backpack and whatever. Didn’t say nothin’, just left.”
Bo sat back onto his heels, the news rioting through him. “Nobody tried to stop her?”
“Why would they try to stop her?” She bunched the pillow beneath her head. “After the scene you made yesterday.”
He rubbed at his face.
She was right. Nobody would have dared even blink in her direction after what happened with Jerry and his buddies.
“Thanks. Go back to sleep.” He stood and headed for the kitchen, using the bright space and the hum of the fridge as a way to calm his careening mind. He sat tense at the table, wondering what to do next. Where would she go? What had driven her to leave in the first place?
Bo tugged his phone out of his pocket, scrambling to dial Red’s number. It rang and rang and rang—and the finally she picked up, sounded sleepy.
“Hello?”
“Red. Have you seen Dakota?”
There was a pause. “Bo, is this you?”
“Yes, it’s me. Dakota’s gone. Have you seen her? I’m fucking worried sick.”
Another pause. “Do you even know what time it is? I’ve been sleeping since ten last night, dude. I have no idea where she is. Did something happen?”
Desperation cinched his insides, stole his breath. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. She disappeared while I was out on a mission. Some of the guys around here said they saw her leave. Alone.”
“Bo, I’m sorry, but I have no idea. I’ll call her when I wake up. I’m sure she just went home or something. That clubhouse gets intense, you know how it is.”
Her words did little to calm him. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to find even an ounce of her reassurance somewhere inside him. “Yeah. Call me the second you hear from her. I gotta know what happened to her.”
“Sure, Bo. I wouldn’t worry. Just get some sleep.”
They hung up and Bo propped his elbows on his knees, staring at the 70’s block pattern of the linoleum. Sleep wouldn’t come; not for a long while. His mind was way too hopped up to even consider going to bed.
He had to find out what happened to Dakota…why she’d left. Why she’d changed her mind.
Because the cavity in his chest threatened to crack into an abyss if he didn’t get those answers.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dakota awoke the next morning feeling like she’d chosen the wrong page of her Choose-Your-Own-Adventure book. The dull ceiling of Red’s spare bedroom unnerved her somehow, though she didn’t know how a regular, faded white ceiling could prompt such a reaction. The spare bed was plush and, unironically, completely outfitted in red. The woman was dedicated to her name, and her entire apartment reflected that.
Dakota turned onto her side, snuggling into the plush pillow she’d clutched to her chest, a lame replacement for Bo. She missed him. It was the fucking truth. And it made no sense. She missed a murderer—a killer. This is how women ended up dating men long-term in prisons, because they fell for their sociopathic whiles long before they became incarcerated for life. Do you want to be Bo’s lifelong penpal in prison? Didn’t think so, chica.
She sighed, rubbing a few errant tears against the pillow. Still, he didn’t feel like a sociopath. Maybe that’s how sociopaths did it.
Even still, there was something about him that begged her to take a second look.
But she couldn’t. She should have learned her lesson the last time around with the professor. There was no need to allow weird bullshit into her life anymore. Even if the bearer of the weird bullshit was a chiseled tattoo god like Bo.
She stretched and yawned. Her dreams had been haunting, with strange masked people hunting her and more bullets firing. Maybe she’d screamed in her sleep. God, she hoped Bo had made it back okay from that mission. The only downside to not sticking around the clubhouse was the not knowing. If she couldn’t be with him…she still at least wanted him to be alive.
Dakota pushed out of bed, rubbing her eyes on the way to the bathroom. After a quick piss and brushing her teeth, she went out into the kitchen, where Red was making breakfast.
“Hey there doll. You’re up earlier than I expected.” She grinned like she had a secret, but really Dakota suspected she was grateful for the girl time after her hiatus from Ink Works. She and Red had gotten along well; maybe this was just the grounding turn of events she needed.
“I guess I couldn’t sleep as much I wanted to.” She slid onto a bar stool in front of the kitchen island, eyes lighting up as she took in the spread. “Whatcha cookin’?”
“A little bit of everything. Thought you staying here deserved the royal touch, you know?” Red winked, her bright red hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. “We’ve got hash browns, scrambled eggs, bacon, some sausage…hell, I’m about to make pancakes, too.”
“Mmm.” She rubbed at her belly. After the meager Thai leftovers and the stressful night’s sleep, she was ready for a hearty meal. “Sounds great.”
“You thinkin’ about coming to the studio today? I could get you some last-minute clients, no problem.”
Dakota hesitated. Part of her was dying to get back to work, and make some money. Stop freeloading off of Bo and Red like they were her twisted adoptive parents. But on the other hand, that was where Bo would go first. And she wasn’t ready to see him. “I don’t know. I kind of want to lay low for a while. Things got…intense.”
Red clucked her tongue. “You mean with Bo, right?”
Dakota nodded, running a hand through her hair. “And I should have learned by now to stay away from intense guys.”
“They’re so damn alluring. But not always the best idea, I guess.” Red sighed, pushing eggs around the skillet. “So what happened? I didn’t want to pester you last night. Thought it would be best if we just went to bed.”
Dakota pursed her lips, trying to find the best way to say it, so she didn’t sound like a heartbroken idiot. “Let’s just say I put myself in check. These guys…are not regular guys. Bo has a history, and I don’t know if I should be lining myself up with someone like him.”
Red creased a brow, bacon sizzling in a pan on the stove. “Did he hurt you, babe?”
“No. Nothing like that.” She picked at the cuticle of a nail. “He’s definitely jealous, though. I found that out in the week I lived with him.”
“Yeah, they all are. It’s part of the lifestyle, or something.”
Dakota laughed. “Are you dating one of them and I don’t know it?”
Red paused, her face tightening. “I was, uh…I was kinda seeing Tony. He wasn’t a brother, but, you know…he might as well have been.”
Dakota softened, reaching to touch her wrist across the island. “Oh, Red. I had no idea. I just thought he was, you know…a boss to you. I’m so sorry.”
She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the skillet. “It’s okay. This sort of shit happens. Nothing we can do about it.”
Dakota gnawed at the inside of her lip, Red’s words turning over and over again in her head. “But what’s the point of being with people who live like this? You know? That’s what I’m getting at. They bring pain, and drama, and strife. There’s no point to it.”
Red nibbled on her bottom lip, tears welling in her eyes as she flipped the bacon. “Yeah, that sounds all well and good on paper. But you can’t control who you fall in love with, can you?”
Dakota exhaled slowly, feeling like an ass. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay.” She waved her off, like dismissing it. She pushed the bacon around, snapping the burner off. “You didn’t know. And we never know who we’ll fall for, either. I think about this a lot, babe. Trust me. I used to feel the same way you did.”
Dakota swallowed hard, feeling an uncomfortable truth coming on. It was so easy to disregard Bo when she reduced it to black and white. But feelings didn’t obey those clean-cut lines.
“So how did you get over it?”
Red sighed, grabbing some plates out of the cupboard. “I asked myself everyday…is this love worth it?”
“Was it?”
Red smiled sadly, tears shining in her eyes. “Of course. I wouldn’t be the woman I am now if I hadn’t loved my Tony. Our relationship was far from perfect…but damn, we had something special.”
Dakota smiled, arranging the fork and knife beside her plate
once Red handed them over. “Why weren’t you guys more out about it?”
“Oh, a variety of reasons. Mostly me.” She laughed, wiping at her eyes, scooping generous portions of each food onto their plates. “I didn’t want it to look unprofessional for his business if he was dating his office manager. So I thought we could just keep it quiet, until…I don’t know. Until we got married or something.” She laughed again, but this time more tears slipped out.
“I didn’t realize you’d been grieving.” Dakota winced, grabbing Red’s hand. She clasped it between her own, searching her face. “I’m so sorry.”
Red nodded, sniffing hard. “Thanks, babe. I appreciate that. It’s good to have a friend now. I needed you, that’s for sure.”
Wild & Free: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Burning Angels MC) (No Saints in Biker Hell Book 1) Page 12