by Carolina Mac
“He shot at you.”
“Yeah, and I took off. I made you a promise tonight and I broke it already. He could have hit you and I would have been long gone. I am a goddam asshole, that’s what I am.”
“A lot of bikers are.”
“Jesus, Christ, girl. I’m sorry. And I never say that. Ever.”
“Somehow, I believe you.”
“Let’s go in and I’ll introduce you.”
“I’m not staying long,” said Annie, “and if there’s sex going on that isn’t private, I won’t be in there more than a minute. I fuckin hate that.”
“Okay, deal.”
“Dougie’s here,” somebody hollered as they came in the front door.
Langois’ place was a dump. Didn’t look too bad on the outside. Decent rancher, but the inside was trashed. The smell of weed was strong and other drugs were probably circulating.
Paul waved Dougie over to where he sat with one of the Rule girls. A lot of clubs had girls that hung with the guys. Easy to spot. On site sex whenever they wanted it. Annie had lived with enough bikers to be disgusted by the practice.
Paul pushed the girl away from him and stood up. “Who’s this gorgeous gash?”
Dougie’s jaw tightened. “This is my girlfriend, Portia.”
“Fuck you, Dog. You ain’t never had a girlfriend.” Paul was stoned. “Come here to me, little black-haired beauty.” He reached out and grabbed Annie’s arm and pulled her close to him.
Annie’s first instinct was to draw her weapon, but it was too soon for that. She’d kill Paul Langois later when they had the info about the guns. Instead, she jerked her arm away and headed for the door. “I’m out of here, Dougie.”
The Dog followed her. “I can’t make him apologize, girl. He’s my boss.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not.” Annie tore down the driveway, jumped on her Softail and she was gone.
As soon as she was sure Dougie wasn’t following her, she stopped, called Blaine and woke him up.
“Sorry to wake you, sugar. Whoever is on the clubhouse, have them tag it now. All of the Rule are partying at Langois’ house.”
“Thanks, Mom. Good information. I love you. Please be careful.”
Riverwalk Hotel. San Antonio.
ANNIE changed into her nightshirt and flopped on the bed waiting for Jack to come back. She hadn’t seen him near Langois’ but he was there. Guaranteed.
Her phone signaled a message and it was Dougie.
“Shit ending to a fantastic date. I’m in love.”
“Got him,” she said out loud.
She texted three hearts and closed her eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sunday, January 25th.
Powell Building. Downtown Austin.
POWELL AND ASSOCIATES was deserted on a Sunday morning. Not a single person in the whole building except him and it felt a little creepy.
Blaine set his Starbuck’s container on the corner of Reg Bromwell’s desk and used his considerable skills to get into Reg’s private files. The lab had turned nothing up on Bromwell’s home computer, so if Reg kept track of his business dealings with his unsavory friends it might be here.
Not knowing exactly what he was looking for, Blaine was prepared to put in the time to find it.
Governor’s Mansion. Austin.
CAT opened her eyes, glanced around the huge pale blue bedroom and wondered where she was. For a moment she thought she’d been kidnapped, then remembered moving to the Governor’s mansion the day before. She let out a little groan realizing somewhere in the large house, someone was waiting for her to get up and eat breakfast.
I shouldn’t have had so much wine last night, but I had such a good time with Blaine and Jesse and the boys. Misty is so wrong for Blaine.
She sat on the side of the bed and checked her messages. Thankfully, nothing yet. The State of Texas held together while she slept.
Doug Robertson’s Residence. San Antonio.
DOUGIE THE DOG woke with a start, his heart pounding thinking somebody was in the condo. He had an expensive system installed for protection after he found out his ex-club meant to eliminate him.
He missed living in Vegas, loved to play poker, but hey, you can’t have everything. You have to follow the money, and right now, Langois was bringing in cash by the bundles. Things had been rolling smooth as silk until the Nuevo Laredo/Laredo border. Langois made a huge mistake sending prospects with the trucks. Six ATF agents killed? Total fuckin disaster. A move like that would bring feds down on you like rain falling out of the sky. Never would have happened if he’d been there. The feds were gunning for them now. The Rule might as well wear targets on their backs.
Dougie padded barefoot to the kitchen, rinsed the carafe and made a pot of coffee. While he waited, he checked for messages. None. Langois wouldn’t be up until after noon. The boss of the club was a user and a slob. Paul’s cocaine use had increased since Dougie came on board and any day now, that would lead to trouble. He tried to put Langois out of his mind.
The only message he wanted was from Portia. He hadn’t been able to get to sleep last night thinking about her.
And Paul. What the hell was Paul thinking grabbing her that way? No fuckin respect. The anger at the boss returned as Dougie replayed the situation in his mind. “If it comes down to it, I’ll kill Langois. No regrets.”
He reached for the coffee pot, had it in his hand and almost off the burner when his phone signaled a text. He set the pot down and read the message.
“I-Hop at ten?”
He grinned at his cell. Couldn’t help it.
“Definitely. Which one?”
“I-10 and Market?”
“Sure.”
Dougie raced upstairs to his bathroom and stripped off for a shower. He stood naked in front of the mirror and took stock of himself. “For a guy who never eats breakfast, you’re pretty fuckin worked up about a pancake.”
Riverwalk Hotel. San Antonio.
ANNIE tipped the waiter at the door of the hotel room and carried the coffee tray to the table in the corner of the room. She’d been up for a while, but Jack was tired. He woke long after her and was still in the shower.
She was meeting Dougie at the I-Hop for breakfast. Nothing much would be accomplished but she couldn’t break the connection now that she had established it.
She fixed her coffee, sat down at the table and called Blaine to see if the tag was in place at the clubhouse. “Hey, sugar pop, are you coming down here soon?”
“I’m trying to crack the Bromwell murder, Annie, but yes, I’ll be in San Antone soon. How’s it going?”
“Pretty well. I’m dating Dougie the Dog.”
“Aw, fuck that, Mom. He’s got a rep as wide as Nevada. That dude is dangerous.”
“He’s preferable to Langois, whose as slimy as a snake slithering through K-gel.”
“Jesus, Mom.”
Annie giggled. “Did your guys get the clubhouse tagged?”
“They did, then they sacked out for a few hours. They’ll be in place in case something happens today.”
“No church usually on Sunday unless it’s an emergency meeting, but hey, you never know.”
“I keep saying this but be careful.”
“Oh, forgot to mention somebody took a shot at Dougie last night as we were leaving Cowboys.”
“There’s a rumor out that his old club is gonna ice him.”
“I shot the guy.”
Blaine sucked in a breath then let it go. “Nice. Do I need to clean it up?”
“Maybe.”
“At Cowboys—the big rodeo dance club place?”
“Yep. Parking lot.”
“I’ve got it.”
“Thanks, baby. I was on my bike and couldn’t stop. I’m Portia Ross.”
“Love you, Portia Ross.”
I-Hop on Market Street. San Antonio.
DOUGIE arrived at the I-Hop at nine forty-five just to be sure he wasn’t late. He got a table near
the window and as far away from a family with four kids as he could get.
After getting ready, he’d spent all the time left cleaning up his condo in case he took Portia there. He’d never taken a woman there or invited anybody from the club over for a beer. He separated the club from his real life. Two totally different things.
The waitress came by and filled his coffee cup and he told her he was waiting for someone. Had he ever said that before? He’d spent most of his life alone and over the years he’d only had one good friend. Race Ogilvie, and they weren’t even in the same club. They liked each other and got along great and that’s all it took. He still missed Race.
“You’ve got a sad look on your face.” She leaned down and kissed him before sitting down on the other side of the table.
He smiled. “I’m cheered up now you’re here.”
“Did you order?”
“No, I waited for you.”
“Do you have commitments today?”
“A couple of things, but they can wait. I’d rather drink coffee with you.”
“You are a romantic, sweet Dougie.”
“Nobody’s ever called me that before.”
The waitress returned, and Annie looked the menu over. “I’m starving this morning. I think I’ll have blueberry pancakes and bacon.”
Dougie didn’t bother opening the menu. “That’s fine for me too.”
“Didn’t you want to see what they had?”
He shook his head. “I don’t eat breakfast.” His cell rang in the pocket of his jacket and he ignored it.
“Your cell is ringing.”
Dougie shook his head and reached across the table for her hand. “Fuck it.”
“I like you, Dougie.”
“I like you too, Portia. A lot.” He finished his coffee and pushed the cup out of the way. “Why did you ask if I had plans for the day?”
“I want to go to the Alamo. I love it there.”
“I’ve never been.”
“Today’s your lucky day.”
Dougie grinned. “Sure, as hell is.”
Powell and Associates. Downtown Austin.
BLAINE worked through the data on Reg Bromwell’s computer until noon. By then he had found out there was a Mrs. Bromwell in Dallas. Surprise. Surprise. She and Reg were not divorced and there was a property battle going on over the Dallas house and a cabin in Utah. Reg had a hefty mortgage on his house in Austin and he needed a lot of change to settle up with the current Mrs. Bromwell before he moved on to domestic bliss with Cat Campbell.
Blaine sent an e-mail to the morgue letting them know about the next of kin. He could tell Cat this little piece of news over the phone, but it might soften the blow if he went in person. He tried her cell.
“What does the Governor do on Sunday in the mansion?”
“She eats muffins and reads stuff she should have read on Friday.”
“I’m coming over.”
“Shall I have the kitchen make lunch?”
“Please do. I’m starving.”
I-Hop on Market Street. San Antonio.
ANNIE whipped out cash for breakfast and Dougie shook his head. “I’ve got the check.”
“I invited you.”
“Don’t matter. I’m the man.”
He took her hand as they left the restaurant and walked to the parking lot. “It’s still bothering me how I acted or reacted last night when the shooter came at me.”
“Let’s forget about it. It’s over.”
“You’re being nice about it. If someone in the club did that to me, I’d kill the son of a bitch.”
“Hey, maybe I’m waiting.”
“Jesus, girl. You give me the shivers.”
“You can leave your bike here, I brought my truck.”
Dougie raised an eyebrow. “You have a truck too?”
“There’s lots you don’t know about me, Dougie.”
“I’m willing to learn.”
“I like it when they’re willing,” she said with a wink. “Like the song.”
Dougie hopped in the shotgun seat and pulled out a pack of Marlboroughs’. “Can I smoke in here?”
“Nope.”
“You have rules. I like that. I have rules too.”
“Tell me your rules, Dougie.”
“My condo is off limits to the club. I never invite them.”
“I like it.”
“Now tell me one of yours.”
“I protect the people I love.”
“Good rule.”
“Your turn.” Annie turned on her signal and drove down a side street looking for a parking space.
“There’s a lot on the next corner. I can see from here it’s not full.”
She pulled in and parked. “You didn’t give your rule.”
“I’m trying to think of it.” He reached for the door handle.
“We can’t get out until you say it.”
Dougie chuckled. “We might be here all fuckin day.”
Annie reached across the console and touched his face. “I have patience.”
“Nobody tells me what to do—that’s a rule.”
“Not even Langois?”
“Well, in the club, yes. But that’s all.”
“Maybe you should rethink that one. My first impression—Langois is slime. Is the club that important?”
“Sometimes I think it is.”
“But sometimes when they do things that make you sick you have second thoughts?”
Dougie nodded. “You know how it feels.”
“I do.” She grabbed the handle and opened the door. “Let’s go buy out the gift shop.”
The Alamo. Downtown San Antonio.
THEY WALKED hand in hand through the grounds breathing in the cool January air. Dougie marveled at the age-old trees and the gardens. They had stopped for a minute on the way in while he examined the exterior wall, and he seemed to know something about masonry.
Dougie the Dog was not just muscles with a pretty face. He had a working brain. Annie was trying not to like him, but it was getting harder.
After the tour that Annie never tired of, they spent time in the gift shop. Dougie admired a painting he thought would look good in his living room.
“Let me get that for you,” said Annie.
Dougie shook his head. “Way too expensive. I’ve got the money, but I wouldn’t spend it on a painting. I’ve got rent to pay first.”
“Maybe I want to see how it would look in your condo. Ever think of that angle?”
Dougie chuckled. “No. Never did.” He held up a hand. “No woman has ever bought me anything. Maybe it’s one of my rules.”
Annie pointed to the painting and one of the staff took it down and wrapped it for her. She paid for it and Dougie carried it to the truck. He stood it carefully in the back seat, still not saying a word since she’d bought the artwork.
Annie started the truck. “Where do you live, sugar pop?”
“I’m not taking the painting,” said Dougie.
“I’ll bribe you.”
“I’ll take the bribe.”
“I thought you would.”
“Can I pick up my ride on the way?”
“Sure. Let’s do it.” Annie drove back to the I-Hop and Dougie jumped on his Harley and led the way to his condo in the north end of San Antonio. Probably a rental. The Rule hadn’t been in town too long. The new Rule hadn’t even been a club too long and sadly their demise was right around the corner. Funny how those things go.
Doug Robertson’s Residence. San Antonio.
ANNIE PARKED in the visitors’ area at the front of the complex. The units looked fairly new. All two-storey brick with cream trim, a single car garage underneath and front doors painted different colors. Dougie drove his bike into his garage, closed the door and hurried back to her.
Annie opened the back door of her truck and eased the large painting out of the back seat. Dougie was right there to help her and he carried it to the front door.
H
e opened up with his key, then turned off the alarm.
Annie glanced at the panel and it appeared to be an elaborate system for a small condo. Dougie was nervous about an outside threat.
He set the painting down still in the wrapping and headed to the kitchen. “How about a beer? I could use one.”
“Sure,” said Annie. “I’d like a beer.” She hopped up on one of the three stools, sat at his breakfast bar and watched him.
“Glass?”
“Yes, please.”
He poured the beer for her and set it in front of her on a coaster. She tried not to giggle. “Thanks. The Alamo was hot work.”
“Didn’t think I’d like it, but I was wrong.”
Annie took her jacket off and hung it on the back of the stool. Dougie stared at the tat down her right arm. “Jackson?”
“My first husband.”
“How long ago?”
“Long.”
He came around and sat beside her at the counter. “I’ve never had a woman in here.”
“On your holy ground?”
Dougie grinned and it was a beautiful sight. She liked him in spite of herself. “Something like that.”
Annie finished her beer and pushed the glass away.
“Another?”
“No thanks. I think I’ll use the washroom.”
“I’m thinking about my bribe.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t want to put moves on you that you aren’t ready for.”
Annie slid off her stool, eased in front of him, squeezing between his body and the counter, and kissed him. She pressed her body into his and explored his mouth with her tongue. Dougie moaned as she turned up the heat and ran her hand down the front of his jeans. She unzipped him, slipped her hand inside and stroked his huge erection.
Dougie was on his feet, lifted her up and ran up a flight of stairs carrying her as if she weighed nothing. He laid her on the bed, undressed her carefully, then took his clothes off and lay down beside her.
“You are one gorgeous woman,” he whispered.
“Thanks.” Annie rolled on top of him, pulled out all the stops and showed him no mercy.
He panted for breath as he rolled her onto her back, shoved the velvet hammer home and came with a holler.