by Lane Hart
Unfortunately, the spark of attraction for more than friendship just isn’t there, and I doubt it ever will be.
Fucking Chase Fury.
A waitress comes to take our drink order, and I go ahead and give her my entrée choice too, trying to speed things along.
“So,” I start once we’re alone again. “How’s the, um, the case going for that highway seventeen accident?” I ask.
“Oh,” Travis replies as his shoulders slump slightly. “Am I on the record? Because I thought this was –”
“Sorry to put you on the spot,” I tell him with a smile. “I’m sure the mind of the reporter isn’t much different from an officer’s, always thinking about work.”
There, I didn’t admit or deny that this isn’t a date. To get dirt, sometimes you have to venture into muddy water. And if flirting with the man a little tonight can get me some information about Hector or the Kings, then it’ll be worth it.
“Right,” Travis says. “We haven’t identified any suspects.”
“Oh, no? That’s too bad,” I tell him, reaching over to give his forearm a light pat and leaving it resting there.
“Yeah, well, we didn’t have enough evidence to ask every member of the Savage Kings to come in for a lineup, and of course, it could’ve been someone wearing one of their cuts that doesn’t have any ties to the MC.”
“Right,” I agree, trying not to sound relieved.
“You’re familiar with the MC, though, aren’t you?” Travis asks.
“Excuse me?” I reply, trying not to let the truth show on my face.
“After your outburst at the scene, I looked you up in the system,” he answers with a smirk. “Your, ah, accident when you were a teenager? Well, I’m guessing Fury was only a prospect at the time, but you had to have known he had ties to the MC, right?”
“Wh-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, and it’s not even the least bit convincing to my own ears. Shit.
“Chase Fury? From what we hear, he’s now the vice president of the original Savage Kings charter. You two must have been close since he has your name tattooed on his chest.”
“How…how did you know that?” I ask.
“All of his tattoos are listed on his arrest record from the aggravated assault about, what was it? Six, seven years back? That time he took a crowbar to both of the drunk driver’s knees the same day the guy was released from prison for hitting the two of you.”
“Wow,” I mutter as I reach for the glass of water in front of me to take a sip. My mouth has gone as dry as the desert. Chase took out the guy’s knees? I knew he went to prison for assaulting him, but I was in college then, trying to stay focused on getting over a broken heart and getting my degree, so I never knew any of the details. “You’ve certainly done your homework,” I tell Travis.
“Has he contacted you?”
“What? God, no!” I exclaim, a little too loudly for being out in public. Glancing around nervously, I have to clear my throat before I can say, “I-I haven’t seen…Chase since the night of the accident.”
Saying his name out loud is still hard for me.
“He’s dangerous,” Travis says simply, like that’s breaking news. “And he matches the description of the highway shooter, so I wouldn’t be surprised if we find enough evidence to bring him into the station for questioning on a first degree murder and two felony attempted murder charges. If we do, he probably won’t ever walk out again.”
“Right, of course,” I agree with a nod. “That’s awful what happened out there, even if it did happen to three known meth dealers connected to Hector Cruz.”
“Cruz is even more dangerous than Fury,” Travis tells me. “You don’t want to mess with him or start reporting his business on the six o’clock news.”
“As an officer of the law, you don’t think the police should be looking into bringing down one of the biggest drug kingpins on the east coast?”
Picking up his glass of water, Travis shrugs his shoulders. “I’m just a highway patrolman. All I’m worried about are the assholes on the road.”
Wow. I’m getting a really bad feeling about this guy. And now, I’m regretting asking him to meet me tonight.
…
Chase
While I may look like a creepy stalker, watching a woman on a date with a man through a pair of binoculars, I’m really just trying to keep Sasha safe.
I’d rather gouge my eyeballs out than see another man wrap his arms around her or watch her having a romantic dinner with him on the dock. That should’ve been me sitting there across from her.
From what I can tell, even though the fucking place is dimly lit, I’m pretty sure she’s with the trooper bastard that she mentioned last night.
Why would she agree to go out on a date with him tonight, when she didn’t even know his first name yesterday?
I don’t know what Sasha’s up to, but I would like to think that she’s just seeing him to get more information about the shit I told her to stay out of, rather than consider that she’s interested in the asshole.
He’s not her type anyway.
My girl would be bored out of her goddamn mind if she had to spend her life with some straight-ass dickhead cop who doesn’t know how to have a good time by breaking a few rules now and then. And the son of a bitch definitely wouldn’t be able to keep her happy in the bedroom.
Sasha was a wildcat. While she would pretend like she was worried about getting caught, I knew she would rather fuck me in public than in a bed. My bike was just one of the places we hit. There were several places around the school and town where we left wet spots.
I’m guessing Howdy fucking Doody over there wouldn’t do it anywhere except his bedroom with the lights off, missionary style.
Not that I want him and Sasha to end up there tonight, even if I do know she would hate every goddamn second.
After what feels like forever but is probably only fifteen minutes, Sasha stands up and walks away from the table with her purse. I spot her coming out the front door a second later and know for a fact that they haven’t even brought out their food yet.
I nearly chuckle out loud at the sucker’s bad luck, but since my truck windows are rolled down to let some air in, I keep quiet. My bike is too damn loud and noticeable, so for my surveillance to work, it’s my truck tonight. I slouch down in my seat when Sasha starts for the parking lot. She climbs into her classic Mustang, the same one she had in high school that she and her dad rebuilt, and drives away.
Once she’s out on the road, I reach for the key to crank the engine and follow her, but then I see the fucking cop headed my way, so I stay put. He’s got his cell phone up to his ear and a scowl on his face.
I bet he’s calling his mommy to let her know he won’t be bringing Sasha home to meet her anytime soon. His voice drifts through the wind as he gets closer.
“He broke a man’s knees and went to prison for over a year for her. She’s your best bet at drawing him away from the MC where he’ll be unprotected.”
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
Is he fucking saying what I think he is?
“But you can’t hurt her. She’s a local celebrity. If she goes missing, every asshole up and down the coast will be looking for her. Follow her and wait for Fury to show. Fine! Give it a few days. But if you have to grab her, then do it quietly at her house; then set up the meet. I don’t know! Have her call the clubhouse for him?” he says before he slips into his Mercedes.
And if every fucking thing I just overheard didn’t send up warning flags, a trooper driving an expensive ride like that sure would. They don’t get paid enough for something that fancy. Travis is on someone’s payroll; and if I had to guess based on his phone call, it’s Hector’s.
The Aces at that bar must have told Hector I was there, so he knows I killed his men. And Travis must have found Sasha’s connection to me from her accident report years ago.
From what I heard, the bottom line is that Hector wants to use Sasha to get
me alone and put a bullet through my skull for revenge.
Does Torin know? He and Hector seem to be buddies, so why wouldn’t he give him a heads-up that I’m on his shit list?
This asshole cop and I need to have a talk.
If I had to bet, I’m guessing he’ll be on standby waiting for the call from Hector, telling them I’m dead so that he can swoop in and be there for Sasha. She doesn’t need him, and I’ll never let that fucking happen.
But I can’t exactly blow his head off either. I don’t need any more heat on me.
Chapter Ten
Sasha
After my surprise visitor last night, I can’t help but be a little jumpy when I pull into my garage and get out of my car.
While I told Chase to leave, I don’t expect that to be the last I see of him.
The anxiety that’s swirling around my empty stomach is simultaneously accompanied by a tiny sliver of, dare I admit it, hope.
Hope is such a stupid fucking emotion. I should know by now that all it leads to is devastation.
I already have my house key out of my purse and in my hand to put in the front door. I forgot to leave the porch light on when I went to work, and it’s too dark to easily find the keyhole. I’m sure I’ve got it lined up straight; but no matter how I manipulate it, I can’t seem to get the key to slide all the way in.
Pulling out my cell phone to use as a flashlight, I shine it on the lock and try again.
Well, there is the problem. My key just doesn’t fit.
What the hell?
I look through the keys on my ring, one for my office at work, one for my car, one for my parents’ house, and finally my house. Just to make sure I’m not losing my mind, I try them all but get nowhere.
Deciding that the lock is jammed from the humidity or something, I start to turn around and go try the back door, when my phone light lands on a black box with a red ribbon sitting on the porch.
Since it’s not my birthday or any other holiday, my first thought is that someone left it here by mistake. Stepping closer, I see my name penned messily on a white tag that has to be a man’s handwriting.
If I had to guess, I would even say it’s from a man with a beard who wears leather and rides a Harley.
Too curious to resist, I bend down and pick it up, then fumble around in the dark, trying to unwrap it with my keys and phone in my one hand.
I pull off the lid and find a shiny gold key lying on a pillow of white cotton.
Seriously?
Of course, the key slides right into the lock on my front door. Both of the locks, I notice when the door doesn’t open after the first one.
A second later and I’m finally inside my house that now has two shiny gold deadbolts to match the key.
I can’t believe he broke into my house again and changed my locks!
It’s hard to feel safer when I know that Chase no doubt also has a key. Now he won’t even have to break in!
Turning on the lights as I walk through the house, making sure he’s not lurking around, I stop in the kitchen where I find another gift – a bottle of wine, just like the one I dropped yesterday with a bow tied around it too.
There’s a handwritten note on a torn-out sheet of notebook paper in front of it that says, “Next time I’ll call to tell you I’m coming.”
That…asshole!
Why did he have to go and do something sweet when I’m trying my best to keep hating him? I have to hate him. Otherwise, he’ll just hurt me again. I don’t know if my heart can be glued back together again. It’s already pretty weak as it is.
…
The next day at work, the station is buzzing, people running around frantically like when it’s a big news day as soon I walk through the door around four-thirty to start my hair and makeup. Since I spent the morning fishing with my dad, I haven’t had the news on.
“What’s going on around here?” I ask Chelsea, our hairstylist, when I sit down in her chair.
“You haven’t heard?” she asks with her eyes widening, and I shake my head. “There was a drowning.”
“And?” I ask, since drownings are, unfortunately, a pretty normal occurrence in a coastal town during the summer.
“And it was some Highway Patrol guy.”
“Really?” I ask as cold dread spreads through the blood in my veins. “Who? What was his name?”
“I can’t remember,” Chelsea says. “I wanna say Barrett or Bates or…”
“Barnes?” I ask as I swallow around the gigantic knot in my throat.
Snapping her fingers, she says, “Yep, that’s the one. How did you guess?”
“Just lucky that way,” I tell her as my stomach bottoms out and my fingers start to tremble.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “You look a little pale, Sash.”
“I-I’m not feeling well, actually.” As if saying the words were a call to action, I jump up and push Chelsea aside to heave and toss my cookies into her trash bin.
Oh my god, Chase! What did you do now?
“Jeez, girl. Are you okay?” she asks from behind me, then offers me some tissues that I appreciate, using them to wipe my mouth. Gasping, Chelsea says, “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“No. God, no,” I tell her with a shake of my head as I straighten and turn to face her. “What do they know…about the drowning? Was there…foul play?” I ask as I force down another lurch of my stomach.
“No,” she replies with her brow furrowed.
“There wasn’t?” I ask in disbelief.
It had to have been Chase! Did he follow me last night after he changed my locks? Did he kill Travis because he thought we were on a date? Oh God, what have I done?
“No, the guy hit his head or something,” she informs me. “Medical examiner said he must have gone for a night swim and smashed his head when he dived into the shallow end or whatever. It was a horrible accident.”
A horrible accident named Chase fucking Fury.
“There weren’t any other wounds on him?” I ask.
Chelsea stares at me like she’s starting to think I’m insane. “I don’t think so, but I didn’t memorize the entire article.”
“Sorry,” I tell her. “It’s just, well, I went on a date with Travis last night.”
“Oooh, who’s Travis?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with interest.
“Barnes. Travis is Travis Barnes, the guy who…”
“Ohhh!” she replies as her jaw drops. “God, Sasha. I’m so sorry.” She wraps me in a hug that I accept because I need someone to hold me together right now.
This is bad. Really bad.
There were a ton of people at Darren’s last night who saw us sitting together. I need to go to the police before they come to me wondering why I didn’t speak up and say something. And I want to hear all of the facts of his death straight from them.
Chapter Eleven
Chase
Once I made sure Sasha was safe and sound asleep in her bed last night, I got Reece, the MC’s tech guy, to find me an address for the trooper fucker. Then, I found him climbing out of the luxurious pool out behind his enormous house he couldn’t afford on a cop’s salary. All I wanted to do was have a little chat with him, but then he charged me. The two of us ended up grappling right before we fell into the pool and Howdy Doody busted his skull on the bottom. He was already floating face down when I climbed out of the pool soaking wet and made a run for it.
I didn’t want to kill him. I just wanted to make him tell me what Hector and Torin were up to before I kicked his ass and warned him to stay away from Sasha.
Still, I’m not sad that the asshole is gone. The dumbass could’ve gotten Sasha killed.
I got a few hours of sleep while Sasha was fishing with her dad, but I’m fucking beat. It’s almost nine o’clock at night, and she still hasn’t gone home yet. First, she went to the news station, then the police department. Since then, I’ve been a little on edge, worried that she might try and finger me for killing the trooper. B
ut she wasn’t in there long before she was headed back to the news station only looking a little upset.
Finally, she finished up her night and drove back to her house.
I’m about to doze off when I see movement at the front of the house. Sasha struts toward her car in…I squint my eyes to look closer through the windshield, then grab the binoculars from the passenger seat to look through them.
Is she wearing leather pants? And I swear only two strings are holding up her thin top.
No fucking way.
Where in the hell is she going?
I’m on my phone calling her before I even think twice.
“Hello?” she answers from the driver's seat of her car.
“Where the hell are you going dressed like that?” I snap.
“So you are watching the house,” she says. “We need to talk.”
“Then why didn’t you just call me, sweetheart?” I ask, since my number's in her phone from forwarding the photos the other night.
“Don’t call me that,” she huffs. “I’m not your sweetheart, or anything else.”
“Sure, sweetheart,” I say, just to get her good and riled up.
“Chase!” she shouts. And then, in a hushed whisper, she asks, “Did you kill him?”
“You’ll have to be more specific. Who are we talking about?” I hedge.
“Chase.”
If she says my name whenever she’s pissed, then I’ll make sure she’s always mad at me.
“Did you?”
“That requires more than a yes or no answer,” I say as I watch her turning around to look over her shoulder. “It was an accident. But serves the fucker right. He was on Hector’s payroll.”
“You’re lying! Were you jealous? Is that why you did it?” she asks.
“He was on Hector’s payroll,” I say again slowly, rather than admit that I was jealous seeing them together. “And I overheard him telling Hector to use you to get to me. Sasha, they were gonna kidnap you and do no telling what if I didn’t show up in a few days.”