“What’s wrong with this? I thought it looked good.”
“It does. That’s the problem.”
It took another couple of seconds for her to catch on that he was paying her a backhanded compliment. When she got it, she laughed. “You feeling territorial? About me?” She closed the distance between them and put her arms around his neck.
“Not at all. I’m concerned as your boss. I want to spend my time makin’ sure people have a good time and use their credit cards. I do not want them havin’ a good time trying to touch this.” He took her arms from around his neck and pulled her into the bedroom. “What other shirts did you pull outta the pile?”
She huffed, but picked up the White Snake from the Slip of the Tongue tour 1990.
“No,” he said. “Too suggestive.”
“Too suggestive,” she snickered. “Are you a bike-riding roadhouse owner or are you my great-aunt?”
“Funny. What else you got?”
She pulled the next shirt from the pile. Also Whitesnake from the Lovehunter tour 1980. It depicted a naked woman riding a snake.
Raze jerked it out of her hand. “You are not wearin’ this! EVER!”
“Raze! It was in the stack of shirts you told me to pick from.”
“Did you look at these?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t you buy these?”
He hesitated. “I didn’t buy these for you.”
She laughed. “Who’d you buy them for?”
“Somebody who’s not you.”
“Oh. Well, then.” She held up the Slip of the Tongue shirt. “I don’t like the idea of a man telling me how to dress, but since you get to pick what everybody wears… this or this?”
He growled softly. “I’m takin’ a shower.”
“Okay.” She smiled brightly.
“I’m tellin’ Dunk to keep an eye on you tonight.”
“Sure.” She nodded. “But my spilling beer on crotches method works even better than scary looking bald guys.”
His mouth twitched in spite of himself. “Tomorrow I’m shoppin’ for new shirts.”
“Go take your shower.”
Raze came out of the shower with a towel around his waist, looking lollipop good. Before he could get into his clothes, Clover planted her face in his chest and inhaled the intoxicating goodness of soap and fresh clean man. What started out as an innocent I’m-heading-to-work kiss soon had tongue and lips heading south toward Raze’s enticing happy trail and eventually ended up as a blowjob that made him see stars, right before his knees threatened to buckle.
He told himself that no man alive could say no to Clover’s beautiful rose-colored mouth and magical tongue. Even the owner of a roadhouse, late for work and expecting a big night, couldn’t be expected to turn that down. He’d have to be inhuman.
He jumped into clothes, pushed his fingers through his hair, and gave Clover a heart-stopping grin.
“Wait. You forgot your phone,” she said as they were closing the kitchen door. She noticed it was on the counter.
“I don’t take it to work. If it rings, I can’t hear it. And I don’t like that vibrate thing.”
She chuckled. “Sensitive. I like that.”
His eyes drifted over her again. “You better always have a pitcher of beer at the ready.”
“I will.” She raised her chin and smiled impishly.
Thibaut Le Cocq mused that he really didn’t deserve to be so lucky, but he’d take it anyway.
He was set to fly out of New Orleans in three hours when he got a call from Lock Manatee, the Stars and Bars’ president. The SBMC was headquartered in Picayune Mississippi, just two and a half hours from Lafayette. Close enough to be considered Le Cocq’s home territory. He liked working with SBMC because they were completely without scruples. They were one of the contacts who got his message, that he was looking for a girl named Clover Fields, not an a.k.a. Included was a description of height, weight, age, and her student ID photo from Columbia wasn’t bad.
One of the SBMC members had been passing through south central Texas. He wasn’t wearing colors. After what had happened in Waco, the members of the Stars and Bars MC who were not incarcerated were not welcome in the Lone Star state.
He was about to get a cheap room for the night when he saw the lights of the roadhouse and stopped in on impulse. The man wasn’t looking for Clover Fields, but there was a girl waiting tables who’d drawn attention to herself by soaking a guy’s crotch with a pitcher of beer. He thought there was something familiar about her, but couldn’t place it. So he forgot all about it until the next day as he was roaring east on I10 lost in thoughts both shallow and ambitious. All of a sudden, he remembered the ‘flier’ from Le Cocq and pulled over to call the SBMC president, Lock Manatee.
“If it’s her, we’ll be lookin’ for our cut,” Lock said.
“If it’s her,” Le Cocq replied smoothly, “I’ll be payin’ your cut and I might also be lookin’ for a place to stash the merchandise.”
“For how long?”
“Couple days tops.”
“Might be open to that. We’ll give you a nice fat discount for repeat business.”
Le Cocq chuffed at that, knowing he’d be gouged. “Just what I’d expect.”
He ended the call and started throwing things in a bag, liking that he’d be able to take his own vehicle. He had a custom van outfitted for the very purpose of transporting human cargo who did not want to be transported. It was designed to make things easy on himself, but unfortunately he didn’t get to use it nearly often enough. Jobs didn’t normally land right in his backyard. Or close enough.
He pressed the code into the keypad that disarmed the separate security system on his four-door garage.
The van was white. Not the color you’d choose if you wanted to attract attention, which made it perfect. White was good because it was so common. People look right past white vans and never suspect they might be carrying anything more questionable than flowers or auto parts.
As he was driving away he started an audio book on gardening. He wasn’t home enough to tend to tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash, but he thought someday he might be. So he reasoned that he might as well spend the drive time productively.
After driving through the night he reached the Austin city limits as the sun was coming up. He checked into a chain motel and put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door so he could get some sleep.
CHAPTER Thirteen BAD REPUTATION
Just as Raze had feared, customers looked at stray girl like they wanted to drag her out back and eat her alive. That damn Bad Reputation shirt made her look like an angel. Or maybe it was that she looked so happy. The image of her coming in out of the rain, just a few days before, looking lost and maybe scared flashed across his mind. That was followed by the flush of male pride that filled his chest, knowing he was the one that had put that look on her face.
The roadhouse had never been so packed. Never.
The combination of Thunder’s growing popularity and the fact that he’d invited the entire SSMC made it hard for the servers to get to the tables, even with the bay doors open and half the crowd spilled outside.
He stayed behind the bar most of the night. Luke and Carl needed the help. It was an all-hands-on-deck kind of night if ever there was one.
All night long, whenever Clover looked toward the bar, she knew Raze would look her way within seconds and get that twinkle. It wasn’t quite a smile, just a you’re mine sort of proprietary assurance. She’d never been claimed. Never even. come close to being claimed. At least not in the way of a man taking hold and saying, “Mine,” with an indisputable manner.
If she’d been asked how she might feel about that a week earlier, she would have said she wasn’t interested. Yet there she was in a Texas roadhouse almost preening in response to Raze’s possessive gaze.
She decided that everything depended on who wanted to own you. And why.
About midway through her shift, she headed past the end of t
he bar with an empty tray. Raze lifted the tray from her shoulder, set it on the end of the bar, turned her toward the dance floor and guided her there with his hand at the small of her back.
As he took her in his arms, he leaned down and rumbled softly in her ear, “Dance with me.”
In response she grinned shyly, while suppressing a public display of shivers as a result of the thrill she got from Raze’s breath on her ear.
The band didn’t play many slow numbers, but once an hour or so they slowed things down to give couples some up close time. Raze hadn’t been waiting for the right moment. It was purely impulsive, but the fact that it wasn’t planned didn’t make it feel any less right.
As she molded into his body, he marveled at how it felt like she was made to be there. He turned his head to scent her hair, thinking how curious it was that he’d never known he loved the aroma of green apples. He knew that grabbing one of the key personnel on what could easily be the busiest night of the year wasn’t a good business decision. But no healthy bottom line could ever feel as good as the woman pressed so close to his belt buckle.
While they danced close, he said, “Got word that your situation is taken care of. No more worries.” He leaned back to look at her face. “Yeah?”
He saw the gratitude in her eyes when she nodded, but he knew there was more there than just thanks. She was feeling the thing happening between them just as he was. He was sure of it.
She gave him the kind of little squeeze that was more affection than seduction and his heart gave way a little more.
When the song ended they both felt pangs of regret, but silently agreed that the duty calling didn’t mean they wouldn’t pick up where the song left off later. At home.
Clover continued the circuit. Rushing here and there to make sure everybody was covered. Weaving in between tables and around clusters of people to deliver drinks and food with a smile that felt more genuine than it ever had before in her life. It struck her that she might not have known what happiness felt like, just that it was possible. It also struck her how odd it was to find someone as miraculous as Raze under such peculiar circumstances. Life was strange.
After checking on her section just after nine, she started back toward the bar and almost faltered a step. She didn’t see Raze at the bar. Instead her eyes landed on a guy sitting alone on a stool at the end staring at her.
In a hundred years she couldn’t have described why it felt different from the looks she’d gotten from a hundred other customers. It just did. It was unsettling. Disturbing. Predatory.
Certainly there was nothing sinister about his looks. He had regular, even pleasant features. He was wearing jeans, boots, a collared polo shirt, and a baseball cap. The alarm had nothing to do with his looks and everything to do with his look.
She looked away quickly, knowing that her facial expressions betrayed her anytime she wasn’t working at hiding her thoughts. She carried her tray back to the kitchen. And walked out the back door.
Raze had been outside chatting with some of the members of the SSMC, getting to know new members and meeting wives for the first time. He was feeling good. After all, it was exactly what he’d wanted. A whole bunch of people having a really good time. He couldn’t imagine what more a person could want from life. Unless it was stray girl.
He’d kept trying to keep thoughts like that from taking root. He was too old to be guided by impulse and he’d only known her for a few days. Still, he didn’t think he’d ever had the kind of connection, and peace, with anybody that he had with Clover. Spooning with her in the early morning hours, he’d gotten overly sentimental about how good it felt, how he would have liked to freeze the moment in time. Listening to her deep breaths. Feeling her silky smooth skin. Smelling that girly green apple shampoo that she liked.
Brandon Fornight pulled him aside. “Arrangements have been made for payment. By tomorrow morning it will be done and over with.”
Raze breathed a big sigh of relief. “This is one that’s gonna be hard to repay.”
Brand grinned. “You’re wrong about that. Best steak I’ve ever had. I’m going to hire that guy.” He looked toward Paco. “He elbowed me out of the way, said I didn’t know what I was doing, and seven minutes later gave me back a steak I’ll be dreaming about for a long time.”
“I got the money,” Raze said.
“I know. I’m not worried about it.”
Raze nodded. “Have a good time. And, you know, thank you.”
It was about nine thirty when he stepped back inside.
Marjorie confronted him. “Where’d that new girl go? Her section’s bordering on mob violence.”
Raze scowled as his eyes scanned for Clover. Nothing. “How long’s she been gone?”
“How am I supposed to know that? It’s kinda busy, ya know.”
He checked the kitchen and the ladies’ restroom, all the while telling himself to stay calm. But as he jogged toward the house, he realized something was out of place. That was the first twinge of full-blown panic. The Jeep was gone.
The Jeep was gone.
The Jeep was gone.
The back door was unlocked. The big rolling bag she’d brought with her was still there, but some of her clothes were gone. Like she’d grabbed what she could carry in her hands and run.
Hurrying back to the kitchen his eyes fell on something else out of place. Her driver’s license. It was sitting on the table alone, conspicuously face up, and angled so as to be easily spotted.
Something had scared her enough to make her run out in the middle of Bike Night. No time to write a note or say goodbye, but she left the license as a message or a clue that he had no idea how to interpret.
Raze realized he was breathing heavy. His heart was racing too.
He ran around the building to the front of the roadhouse where the bikes were parked. Most of the SSMC had called it a night. A few remained including Brash, who was already on his bike with his woman when Raze called out to him, stopping him from turning the engine over.
Brash sat straddling the bike and waited. “You look a little wild-eyed, brother,” he said when Raze came close. Even in the dim light of the parking area he could see that something was wrong.
“She’s gone.”
“Who?” Brash’s eyebrows knitted together as his eyes cast back and forth around the area. “Oh. The, um…”
Raze grabbed two fistfuls of leather cut. “I need help.”
Brash put his hands on Raze’s wrists and said, “I know. Turn loose so I can get off this machine.” He looked at Brigid over his shoulder. “You catch a ride with Mom?”
“Sure. Of course.” She nodded, throwing a concerned look toward Raze. “See you at home,” she said to Brash.
“Raze,” Brash said quietly. “You know you can’t force a woman to stay if she has other plans.”
Raze was shaking his head furiously. “No. It’s not like that. She ran. We don’t have time to waste making you believe me. She left her stuff. Left her driver’s license on the kitchen table, like some kind of… I don’t know, fucked-up message. Somethin’ spooked her. Spooked her so bad she didn’t feel like she could take the time to find me.” His eyes were imploring Brash to hear his words and believe what he was saying. “She just ran.”
Brash’s eyebrows were still drawn together. “She left her stuff? And her license?”
Raze grabbed his hair with both hands. He’d been through more than his share of stuff, in the military and elsewhere. And he’d felt fear before, but not the way he was feeling fear at that moment.
“Doesn’t make sense,” Raze said. “Brand told me it was handled. Said the money was gonna find its way to the right place tomorrow mornin’. So I don’t get it. Unless somebody was hunting for her and didn’t get the message.”
Brash gave a nod so small it was almost imperceptible. He looked around. Brand was gone. Pulling out his phone, he sent a text. If Brand was riding, he wouldn’t get the message until he stopped. Probably.
> “I gotta find her,” Raze said. “I know I’ve been askin’ a lot…”
“That’s not a consideration and you know it,” Brash said as he finished typing. “You got somebody who can shut down and close up?”
Raze looked back at the roadhouse like he’d completely forgotten he was a business owner. “Give me two minutes and meet me at the house.”
Raze jogged inside and grabbed Luke. “You’ve been wantin’ a chance to step up. Right?”
Luke looked over Raze’s shoulder like he was trying to figure out what brought that on. “Right,” he said simply.
“Well, this is it. I need you to close down tonight. You think you can handle that?”
“Think I can.” The fact that Luke didn’t hesitate made Raze feel good about walking off. Not that he wouldn’t have done it anyway.
“Call me when you’re ready to engage the security system.”
Luke nodded. “Alright. I will.”
The band was packing up and the crowd had thinned to the usual week night numbers. Everybody knew their job, but Raze didn’t care about any of that as he made his way to the house.
“What are you doin’ out here?” he asked Brash. “Door’s open.”
“Door may be open, but your dog doesn’t know you gave me permission to walk in.”
Raze stepped in front of him, opened the screen door, and held it for Brash. He took a few seconds to reassure Bless that Brash was okay with him.
“See?” He pointed to Clover’s license.
“Why would she leave this?” Brash asked. “Looks real deliberate.”
“It does. And I don’t know.”
“Did she ever say anything about where she would go if she was…? Well, when she came here in the first place she was headed somewhere. Right?”
“West. Maybe west Texas. Maybe New Mexico. I told her that, as smart as she’d been to lose her phone and stay away from what connected her to her former life, that if she ever got pulled over, they’d ask for her driver’s license. Then she and her location would be in the system.”
Roadhouse (Sons of Sanctuary MC, Austin, Texas Book 5) Page 13