by KB Winters
Which made no fucking sense because Pacheco was a big fish in a very little, local pond. He didn’t need a goddamn PAC and definitely not one with millions of dollars in it.
“Fuck. How in the hell does Roadkill pull down that kind of fucking cash?”
“Exactly. I’m still digging into each of the corporations to find out what the fuck else they’re into. I’ve seen their businesses and they’re not even pulling in what we are annually.” Jag’s face showed the same disbelief I was sure mine did.
“They’re into some big shit. Have to be.” Nothing else made any sense. “How long will it take you to find more?”
Jag shrugged. “Depends on how much more information is available, but I’ll need a few days.”
“In the meantime, I want you to reach out to a blogger. Someone small enough to stay under the radar but big enough that the story might catch the attention of a bigger outlet.”
A slow smile lit up his face, the first genuine smile I’d seen since Vivi left.
“Yeah, I know the perfect person.”
We stood at the same time and joined the rest of the guys in the main room of the clubhouse. Jag dropped into a seat and flipped open his laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard to do what I asked.
“Girls, we need some privacy.”
There were always a few Reckless Bitches hanging around, but the number had dwindled after one of them targeted Golden Boy’s woman, Teddy. They were back now but they knew club business was strictly private.
“Thanks, girls.”
“What’s up, Cross?” Golden Boy stood, already on alert, and looked at me with a frown.
“A lot.”
I didn’t sugarcoat shit with my men, especially now that they had wives and kids to worry about. They needed to know what the fuck was going on and what kind of danger we faced.
“Jag came through again with a shit ton of information.”
I told them everything I’d learned about the connection between Pacheco and Roadkill.
“Jag hasn’t found proof yet, but it seems like this isn’t just about campaign promises, it seems like he’s a goddamn honorary member of Roadkill MC. I don’t want to pull the trigger, yet, but we need to apply some fucking pressure. Let them know no one gets away with fucking with the Reckless Bastards.”
“Goddamn right!” Savior smacked the table and a bunch of guys joined in, whooping and hooting. Ready for war.
“That means we need to prepare.”
“And retaliate,” Max said, his voice deadly cool.
“Max is right, Cross. We can’t let these fuckers get away with this shit. Who knows what they’ll do next.” Golden Boy dropped a hand on his brother’s shoulder in solidarity.
“I know. That’s why I need you two to round up all the women, including any Reckless Bitches who’re in town. Moon too,” I told them, ignoring the surprised looks and smirks from my men. “Get them here and keep them here until we know the danger has passed. Be fast about it, the prospects and the Bitches will get them anything else they need.
Max and Golden Boy nodded, grabbed their weapons and left quickly. This wasn’t the first time we’d been on lockdown and it probably wouldn’t be the last. We knew how to handle it but now there were more women and children to deal with.
“Stitch, I need you to go pick up Tanya. Brief her on the way back here.”
He grinned because he was sweet on our attorney. “Sure thing, Prez.”
“Me and Lasso will go prep weapons.”
Despite being a moody bastard, Savior was a reliable member. And it helped that he fucking loved his weapons.
“Yeah, thanks.” The guys all had their assignments and those that didn’t were busy getting things ready for the arrival of the women and a long wait. I hoped it wouldn’t be too long, because we had all the evidence we needed to fuck up Pacheco’s and Roadkill’s worlds.
Stitch showed up followed by Tanya breezing in on her ridiculously high heels, which, as usual, she paired with jeans and a button up blouse she tied at the waist. Stitch couldn’t keep his eyes off her but she was oblivious.
“All right, Cross. What’s so important that I had to pass Zumbo’s Just Desserts and come straight to your playhouse?” Her pink lips twitched when several of the men frowned in her direction but otherwise she remained unfazed.
“Clubhouse,” I corrected with a smirk. “Come over here and Jag and I will brief you.” She strolled over, removing a note pad from her bag along with a tablet.
“Okay, what’s up?”
“We found some large donations from Roadkill to Pacheco, but they started long before this account was registered to his PAC.”
Jag nodded and finally looked up from his laptop. “If you look closely,” he told Tanya and handed her a flash drive, “you can see that the amounts look like payments. I can’t say for what, yet, but it looks like these are payments to a business partner.”
Tanya whistled. “Damn, when you boys get into some shit, you get in to the deepest of shit.” She shook her head as my words sank in but then like the professional she was, Tanya started taking notes.
“These fuckers fight dirty, Tanya. Really fucking dirty, so we need you briefed on all of this, every damn detail, in case shit goes sideways.”
For the next hour she sat beside Jag and listened carefully as he explained every damn thing we had on Pacheco and Roadkill. So far.
Lasso and Savior came back in and Savior nodded to let me know they’d taken care of arming everyone. “We got some knuckles and blades for the guys who can’t be strapped,” Lasso said with a smile.
At Tanya’s look, I shrugged. “We pay attention when you tell us shit.”
“Color me surprised,” she shot back with a smile and turned her attention back to Jag.
The guys all gravitated towards Savior and Lasso, eager to take their pick of the weapons. They knew this fight would be dirty and they were all ready, because we were always ready. Soldiers, no matter what uniform they wore, never got over being battle-ready at any moment.
Looking around at this group of men who were the only family I had, I couldn’t help but worry about some of them. Hell, some of us. With that kind of money on the line, there was no telling what they would do to prevent this information from coming to light.
Luckily that was no longer an option.
Finally, the best part of us had arrived. Rocky, Jana and Teddy all sat at one table, looking pregnant and surrounded by the next generation of Bastards. Mandy had just walked in looking tired and all grown up with two large boxes of what had to be her delicious pastries inside. The sound of children grew louder and I scanned for a familiar head capped with black hair.
He wasn’t there, and neither was his mother. “Where the fuck is Moon and Beau?”
“She wasn’t at home or her shop,” Max said with a grunt. He looked as upset as I felt so there was no point in yelling.
“Keep everyone here. I’ll be back.” I had to find them. Moon knew there was trouble, but she didn’t realize she was part of the trouble now. I couldn’t let anything happen to them.
Not again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Moon
“Mom, I feel weird.” Beau’s voice came out shaky but that wasn’t what alarmed me. It was that low whistling wheeze that left me terrified.
“Weird how, honey? Talk slowly and tell me what you’re feeling.” His voice quivered with fear, the same fear that snaked its way down my spine as soon as his breaths started coming in tight and unusually constricted, like his chest was in a vise. We were on our way to see Dr. Mankowski for the first stem cell treatment and I had no idea where the closest hospital was, so I stomped on the gas to get to the specialist’s office as soon as possible.
“It hurts, Mom. I can’t breathe.”
“Okay, baby, hang on. Okay?” With one hand on the wheel, my free hand searched my purse for the portable nebulizer, sending a wish into the universe that it was fully charged.
“Got it! Here you go, honey. Just breathe slowly, Beau, like we practiced.”
I breathed in and out slowly until Beau’s breathing matched mine.
His little hands took the nebulizer and double-checked all the settings. I checked it every morning after taking it off the charger and each night when I set it to charge but the routine was for him to make sure everything worked. When Beau was satisfied the settings were correct and that his medicine was inserted properly, he inserted the nebulizer into his mouth. After several deep inhales, the wheezing eased but it didn’t stop.
“We’re just two exits away from Dr. Mankowski’s office, Beau. Just stay calm.” The words were more for my benefit than Beau’s, because as calm as I was on the outside, I felt like a rabid squirrel on the inside.
Beau’s eyes were wide with the effort to breathe normally.
I may have broken a few traffic laws during the last stretch of road. By the time I turned into the medical center parking lot, Beau’s breathing had turned erratic and wheezy again.
“Mom,” he gasped, and I slammed on the brakes right in the middle of a row of parking spots, stepped out with my bag and ran around to the backseat, pulling Beau out and running inside the office building with him in my arms.
“Mom,” he wheezed again and I nearly fell to my knees.
“It’s okay, honey. Just breathe in and out slowly and let me take care of the rest.”
I ran as fast as I could through the automatic glass doors, glaring at the nice receptionist for no other reason than I needed her to take me seriously. “I need to see Dr. Mankowski now!”
She smiled that kind but blank look commonly found with receptionists around the world and shook her head. “I’m sorry Miss but this isn’t a hospital.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I have an appointment today and my son had an asthma attack on our way here so get the doctor now or I will skin you alive with my bare hands. Go!”
“I’m sorry ma’am, but—”
“Go! Now!” I wouldn’t be so rude normally but this woman was really getting under my skin.
Dr. Mankowski stepped out of a door with a frown marring his boyishly handsome face. He capped off the Steven Martin look with distressed denim under his white doctor’s coat. “What’s all the commotion?”
“Your receptionist was just telling me that you don’t treat emergencies here and that I should find a hospital while my little boy can’t breathe.”
As expected, the doctor frowned at the perky brunette as he strode over to me. He leaned over to Beau, who was half out of it from struggling to breathe.
“What seems to the problem, Beau?” he said in his calm, doctor voice.
Beau raised his head, sleepy blue eyes barely open. “Can’t breathe, Dr. Mank.”
He grinned and relieved me of my son’s weight. “Let’s take a look and see if there’s something we can do.” I followed behind him on wooden legs, wondering if this would ever end. Would there ever come a time when I wouldn’t have to worry if the next breath would be his last?
I stood with my head resting on the door while the doctor listened to his lungs. “Is there more I can do to stop these attacks?”
“You’re doing everything you can, Ms. Vanderbilt. There is no magic treatment when it comes to asthma. Today the problem is this,” he told me, holding the nebulizer up between two fingers.
“These things are great until they aren’t. They may as well be disposable because if the batteries aren’t perfectly charged, it won’t dispense medications evenly.”
A rush of fury raced through me. “So today’s attack was the fault of the stupid treatment?”
He grinned a smile that lit up his whole face, shaving at least a decade off his face. “Exactly.”
“How can that be? That nebulizer is supposed to be state of the art. Why even bother? Can’t they make these things infallible?”
Dr. Mankowski removed a prescription pad from the pocket of his lab coat and scribbled on it. “I’ll give you a prescription for another, top of the line portable nebulizer just in case, but I’m hoping you won’t need it soon.”
“And this one isn’t going to fail? Is it any better?” I was beyond frustrated. I took the prescription from the doctor and stuffed it in my bag. “So, does that mean we’re still doing the stem cell treatment today—or not?”
“Yes, we are. As long as you don’t mind waiting so we can monitor Beau for a while.”
I shook my head because I would wait as long as I had to if it meant Beau would get better. “Of course.”
The doctor left us in the waiting room and I couldn’t help but think about all the things I’d done to protect Beau from the ravages of asthma. We both ate a whole food, plant-based diet to limit his exposure to allergens, made sure he did deep breathing exercises to strengthen his lungs and airways. I even kept plants in the house to provide clean oxygen. So far none of it had worked to cure him of this disease, and I felt like a failure.
It was bad enough that failure was a common occurrence for all single parents, but to feel like I’d contributed to his pain somehow was worse and I fell into a well of self-pity. Even when they wheeled him into a sterile room for the treatment an hour later, I was still beating myself up. Not just over Beau, either.
When it came to Cross, I was afraid I was falling back into old habits. Beau had been conceived during a wild and wicked weekend spent with the wrong kind of man. I decided then to get over my obsession with bad boys, which effectively meant I’d given up on men.
Until now.
Until I decided to fall for a man who was all wrong for me in so many ways, starting with the fact that he was still in love with his wife. His dead wife. Of course, he hadn’t told me so in so many words. But he didn’t have to.
Overhearing Cross tell Beau about his lost family answered so many questions for me. His retreat whenever I tried to pry any information from him; his disappearance after our super-heated sexy sessions in bed. That was all he wanted from me. And I’d been so lonely, I willingly fell into his arms whenever he showed up on my doorstep. It was a lose-lose situation for me, which meant it was time to get my head on straight and stop thinking like a silly little girl.
The same thing Daddy had always accused me of being.
***
By the time we left Dr. Mankowski’s office, the sun had long ago set and the sky was clear yet dark save for the large face of the moon splashing light on the road. Beau was asleep in the back seat, not at all restricted by the seatbelt I’d fastened him into.
The doctor claimed that I would start seeing improvements in Beau’s breathing soon and I was hopeful. Not expectant but hopeful, anyway. We would come back in six weeks just to do a checkup and—fingers crossed—see evidence that the treatments were working.
Soft strains of classic rock played on the radio and I tried to hum quietly but inside the quiet car it felt a lot louder than a hum. Still, the sounds of Creedence Clearwater Revival helped calm my nerves.
At least until the single light of motorcycle light moved behind me and stayed there for more than ten miles. Initially I thought, okay I hoped it was Cross because he was so eager to see and kiss me again. Then I told myself to stop fantasizing that life was like a romance novel. I kept driving, but still the bike stayed behind me, never allowing more than one car between us. Then the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood up, a clear sign that something was wrong. I’d learned never to ignore those feelings and signs a long time ago, so I decided to test my theory.
I slowed down and instead of going around me like any normal driver would, he slowed too. When I switched lanes, the biker did too and then followed me back into the center lane. That was the only confirmation I needed so I did the only thing I could, punched the gas like my little Subaru had the same zip as a gas-guzzling Lamborghini. My car wasn’t pretty, but it was sporty and reliable, which meant I had a good chance of getting away from the creep following me.
At least that was wha
t I kept telling myself as I pressed down as hard as I could on the gas, trying like hell to put some distance between my car and the biker. But I couldn’t go home with some crazed biker on my trail, which meant my shop was off limits as well. Which wasn’t helpful at all since I couldn’t drive around all night. I needed reinforcements so I picked up my phone. “Hey, Jana, I need your help.”
“Hey, Moon, hang on a second.” Music played in the background along with the sounds of conversation and I wondered if I was interrupting a party. “Sorry about that. What can I help with?”
“Don’t freak out but there’s a biker following me, has been since I left the doctor’s office and I don’t know where to go.”
“Can you just pull over somewhere that’s busy and lit up?”
I shook my head and glanced in the mirror again just to make sure the biker was still following us.
“Hello, Moon? Answer me!”
“Sorry. No, there’s nowhere like that until we’re closer to home. Plus Beau is sleeping after another attack.”
“Oh no,” Jana moaned. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is he doing okay?”
“Mostly. We just left the doctor. Let’s just hope this treatment works. Any ideas on how to shake this guy?”
“Come to the clubhouse. Cross has been out for hours looking for you, anyway.”
Why would Cross be looking for me? We didn’t have plans to meet up today and he had far more important things on his mind. “No thanks, I don’t want to impose. I’ll go to the police station, which should have been my first thought.” Except I was a naturally suspicious person and so far Mayhem’s finest left much to be desired.
“Moon, don’t. Please. Just trust me and come here to the clubhouse. Please?”
There was a worry in her voice I couldn’t understand but I respected it enough to at least consider it. “I’ll let you know, Jana. Right now I need to think. Later.”
Tossing the phone onto the passenger seat, I slowed to take the exit, groaning when a line of traffic ended not fifty feet after the exit ramp began.
Gridlock was the last thing I needed with an unknown biker behind me, but I kept my eye on him like there was anything I could do if he decided to come after me here in traffic. Still, I was prepared. Ready for a fight when I saw him split the lane, I rolled down the window and waited.