I’d heard this same grim threat many times, and I’d hardened myself to it. “It’ll take you years to sell all these businesses off.”
He laughed. “So, you figure you’ve got time? Not really. I’m going to be traveling back and forth a lot, and you’ll be going with me.” He got up and walked over to me. “I’ve decided I need to keep a better eye on you. In case you’re thinking you can fuck someone else behind my back.”
My heart jumped ahead a few paces, and I pulled my eyes away from his. “You’re still just as paranoid as always,” I said.
He grabbed my wrist. It seemed as if he might crush my bones between his fingers. “I saw the way you strutted through the house in that skimpy bikini the other day. I’m not paranoid, but you are a fucking slut.”
I tried to pull from his grasp, but he squeezed my wrist harder. “You’re hurting me.” My free hand flew at him. He blocked my hand before slapping me hard across the face. If he hadn’t been holding my wrist, I would have flown across the room. My ears were ringing, and my head spun with throbbing pain.
He let loose of my wrist and grabbed the edge of the desk to keep upright.
“I’m sorry, Roxie.” He reached for me, but I backed out of his grasp. The entire side of my face ached. This wasn’t the first time he’d grabbed me or spoken cruelly to me but he’d never struck me before. As wide and cold as the distance between us had grown in the past year, we were now continents apart.
I blinked back tears. They would have no effect. Trace wasn’t the sympathetic type, but he looked stunned about what he’d just done. I almost thought I saw a glimmer of remorse.
“Why would you want this?” My voice wavered. I still hadn’t gotten over the pain of the slap. “It’s obvious that I have no feelings for you at all. Not even a flicker of emotion when it comes to you, unless that emotion is hate. I hate you, Trace. And now I guess I can add fear to that. Up until now, you’ve never hit me. I was thankful for that. In fact, somewhere deep in my heart, I felt a little sorry for you.”
He flinched at my last words. His big ego would never accept the idea of someone feeling sorry for him.
I wasn’t sure if it had been the slap or if it was because of my feelings for Jericho or if I’d just had enough of being his possession, but I’d decided to let Trace know how I felt. But I’d spoken hastily and selfishly. I couldn’t let him turn Sean in for murder. That thought shot through me like shards of ice.
This time it was Trace who backed away from my reach.
“I’m sorry, Trace. You hit me and— I’m sorry. Please don’t turn Sean in.” Fuck, one minute I was laying it all bare for him to hear, and next I was begging for him to forget it. How had I ended up in such a bottomless pit? No way to stop the fall without hurting the people I loved most.
Trace had a look on his face that I hadn’t seen before. It seemed his attraction to me could only be pushed so far. He walked over to the desk and braced his fists on it as he stared down at my paperwork. I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. He shoved everything off my desk in one giant shit storm and then walked out of the office and the club.
chapter 22
Jericho
It was all routine again. Reed was out in front of the van, and Jacko and I brought up the rear. We were in between traffic hours. Aside from a string of logging trucks that shook the ground and created a pine scented gust of wind as they passed going the opposite direction, it was another uneventful day of running money.
But there was one thing my dad had always said about easy days— when things are going too smoothly then you can expect a big ole fucking bump in the road to follow. I’d eased back on my seat and was relaxing and enjoying the cruise. With our helmets on and our own bike motors roaring, Jacko and I hadn’t heard them ride up behind us. A motorcycle rolled up next to me. I glanced casually to my right, assuming it was Jacko. It was Deke Hollis from Bent for Hell. Another rider came up next to Jacko. Jacko kept his cool as he looked over at me.
I nodded to Deke and he nodded back. I glanced in my rearview. Sure enough, the president, Troy Griffin, was behind us with one other member. The interesting part about it was they almost looked even more surprised to see us. We were all armed with guns and knives, but the last thing our club or Griffin’s club needed was a war. They were still reeling from the legal trouble they’d had when three of their men headed to jail. A lot had happened since then, including Dreygon and Gunner dying and Cash leaving Bedlam. Once I took over, I was determined not to lose anymore guys to the grave or to jail sentences. But Bent for Hell were on us now, and from first glance, we were outnumbered four to three. Not a big deal, but Griffin could easily have had more guys waiting to ride up.
I could see Pete spending a lot of time checking out his mirrors. He’d obviously noticed that several bikes had joined us. None of it seemed like Griffin. They made most of their money, and big money at that, moving illegal weapons and drugs. Robbing a truck of some cash wasn’t really their style. It wasn’t dangerous enough. To someone like Griffin, it would be like stealing the change from an ice cream truck. There had been a connection between Bent for Hell and Gamble, but I’d never gotten to the core of it. Something told me I was about to find out.
Reed must have sensed something was up. He rolled out to the opposite lane to get a view behind the van. My guys were good. They never lost their cool, and today was no exception. Reed went back to his place in front of the van. For now, we were going to do our job and stay with the vehicle.
Deke fell back. I watched him in my mirrors. Griffin signaled for them to move on. They roared past the van and past Reed and right on down the highway. Jacko looked over at me again. I shrugged. I had no fucking clue what had just happened, but the whole thing couldn’t just have been a coincidence.
No one looked more relieved than Pete when we pulled into the parking lot of Gamble’s club. Jacko and I stayed by the van as Reed and Pete ran the cash bags inside. It was broad daylight, so our Glocks stayed tucked inside our holsters. We hadn’t seen any other sign of Bent for Hell until my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out and looked at Jacko. “It’s Griffin.”
“Yeah, figured it might be.”
“Griffin,” I said politely.
“Richo, my man, how is it going?”
“It was going just fine until you and your army of dicks showed up. What the hell?”
“Hmm, you know something, Walsh, I was just about to ask you the same damn thing.”
“My answer is easy. I’m working security for a casino owner.”
His dry laugh came through the phone followed by a short explosion of smoker’s cough. His voice was rough from the cough fit. “Heard you Bedlam boys were playing sheriff now.”
I laughed. “Yep, just waiting for a big silver star to stick on my cut. I told you what I was doing, now it’s your turn.”
He paused. “It seems there’s someone trying to get an outlaw war started. Gamble owes me, and I was just coming to collect. Then there you were, the pretty boy playing outlaw prez. Ole Sharpe must be smiling up from hell. He was always grooming you for the position, and now, there you are.”
“Look, Griffin, write all this shit in a book or something. You can call it Memoirs of a Leather-faced Asshole. We seem to have a common enemy, and I think we should meet and talk about it.”
“I was thinking the same thing. There’s an old rest stop off the 89, about a mile before the interstate forks off. Meet us there in an hour.”
“See you then.”
chapter 23
Jericho
We rode toward the turnoff for the abandoned rest stop. I’d called Rick to let Bedlam know that we were meeting Griffin and his members. That way they’d know who to come after if we were to suddenly disappear. But I wasn’t really worried about the meeting. I’d met with Griffin more than once to discuss territory and business. We had no problem with each other as long as we communicated. Griffin was getting on in years. He wa
s just a few years younger than Dreygon had been when he’d died, and I was pretty sure the Bent for Hell president wasn’t in any hurry to go out in a blaze of glory. Word was that he’d retire his patch soon and leave Deke, his VP, to run the club.
Sunlight glinted off the chrome of their bikes as they stood parked in a weed choked parking lot that was more dirt than asphalt. The public restrooms and drinking fountains that once provided relief for weary travelers had been completely destroyed by weather, vandals and lack of state funds. It was Griffin, Hollis and Griffin’s cousin, Jesse. I wasn’t completely sure about the fourth guy who looked as if they’d dragged him along just for bulk. He was as big as a side of beef and looked to be about as smart too.
We parked and took off our helmets. “Guns on bike seats,” Griffin suggested.
I nodded. All of us took out our weapons and laid them on the seats of our motorcycles. We walked toward each other in two lines. I stood across from Griffin. He’d aged a lot since the last time we’d spoken. A lot of time out on the open road, gallons of beer and nonstop cigarettes were draining the life from the man. As a teenager, I’d tried my hardest to become a smoker, figuring the life of a biker required it. But Evie would go out of her way to find my smokes, and she’d flush them down the toilet. She was relentless. She’d change the background on my computer to a picture of a diseased lung or a man smoking through a hole in his throat. Her anti-smoking plan had worked.
“Don’t suppose you want to tell me why Gamble owes you?” I started the conversation. Tensions were running low, and it seemed that, like us, they just wanted to get to the bottom of things.
“Club business, but Gamble knew that we’d be coming to collect sometime soon.”
“I’m thinking he knew you were coming this morning. I only talked to him for a few minutes today, but he was acting even more the constipated, full of shit asshole than usual. He was tense about something. Maybe because he knew you were going to be joining us on the road. Do you have someone in the club who might be double crossing you?”
Griffin looked at Deke, and they both seemed to be thinking the same thing. “It’s possible. How the hell did you end up working for that snake charmer? You’re a little out of your territory, aren’t you?”
I shrugged and looked around at the barren landscape. “Figured a change of scenery would be nice. Gamble contacted me about doing security work.”
“Is that right?” Deke asked. “Does he have a lot of problems with people robbing his trucks?”
“Not according to his driver,” Reed answered.
“It’s been easy money until you rolled up,” Jacko said.
Griffin put up his hands. “Sorry if we scared you, Jacko. We weren’t after you. We were after the cash in the van.”
“You didn’t scare me,” Jacko said sharply.
I shot him a quelling glance. “Gamble knew he was going to have to deal with your club. So he decided to stick in a rival club for protection.”
“Fucking coward,” Deke sneered. “Always figured him for a weasel.”
“I’ve got something I’ve got to take care of here first,” I said. “Then we’ll bow out, and you can take whatever the hell you want from Gamble. None of my business what score you have to settle. Just leave the driver out of it. He’s all right. Wait until I give you the all clear.”
Griffin nodded. “I sure as hell don’t want to have to go through you to get to the money. But I don’t want to wait too long.”
We climbed back on our bikes. Bent for Hell fired up their Harleys. A cloud of dust followed them back to the highway.
Reed stuck his gun back in his holster. “I think we should cut our losses and leave now. Gamble is messing with shit he doesn’t understand when he throws two rival clubs into the pot together.”
I pulled on my helmet. “Not leaving without the girl.”
Both Jacko and Reed stared hard at me.
“You guys can head back home if you want to, but I’m not leaving her with Gamble.”
Jacko laughed. “Boy, you’ve always had a swollen head when it comes to women, and hell, I guess for good reason. But what makes you think she’s going to leave the lifestyle of the rich and famous.”
“Are you sure she wants out?” Reed asked.
“Yeah, she does, but there’s something that’s holding her here. Something that I haven’t figured a way around yet. But I’m working on it. Like I said, you two can head back if you want. This isn’t your problem.”
“Fuck you, Richo—” Jacko said, “not our problem. If it’s your problem, then it’s our problem.”
Reed pulled on his helmet. “Yep, Mr. President, just tell us what to do. Besides, I’ve seen you with dozens of women, but I’ve never seen you get serious about any of them. Figure this must be the one, eh?”
I reached over and patted his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
There were a lot of fucking puzzle pieces, and, at the moment, none of those pieces fit. But something told me when the puzzle came together, it was going to be one hell of a picture.
chapter 24
Roxie
After the awful morning with Trace, I’d spent the rest of the day working in the office. My head was throbbing, and the red splotch on my face had turned to an ugly bruise. I’d done a fairly good job at hiding the mark with makeup, but it was impossible to cover it completely.
Pepper had looked as if she might just take Trace down herself when she saw it. And there was no doubt in my mind that she could do it.
My phone buzzed. I startled at first, hoping to hell it wasn’t Trace.
It was my salon. “I need to see you. Can you come?” Jericho texted.
“What’s up?”
“Too much to explain in a text. Besides, if I don’t touch you soon I will go out of my fucking mind.”
“Let me see what I can do.” I wrote back. I rang up Sean. He answered in a hushed voice. “Hey, Rox, Easton fell asleep in my lap.”
“I didn’t wake him, did I?”
“No, he was playing in the backyard. Now he’s out cold.”
“How is Nancy?” I asked.
“Not good.” He didn’t need to elaborate. I already knew what not good meant.
“Hey, I’m going out tonight, but I’m going to tell Trace that I’m with you guys. Just so you know.”
“You’re sneaking out on him?” he asked in a judgmental tone. There were times when I wanted to throttle my brother.
“Sean, your giant misstep a year ago has had little effect on your life. You’ve still got your freedom. I, on the other hand—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “Sorry. You do what you need to do. Just be careful. And, Rox, you know how much I appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
“Don’t be too appreciative, big brother. I’m doing it all for Easton.” I hung up. More than once, I’d been lectured by Sean about not screwing up with Trace, and I couldn’t fucking hear it again. I was in this mess only because of Sean’s bad decisions, and somehow, he managed to forget that important detail a lot.
I was just getting over being pissed at Sean when the phone rang. This time it was Trace.
“Hey, sweetheart, I made reservations at that Italian restaurant we like.” His tone was light and breezy as if he hadn’t left a big bruise on my face this morning.
“Uh, yeah, can’t make it. I’m going to Sean’s house tonight.”
“Cancel. We’re going to dinner.”
I fingered the swelling on my cheek and winced. It was tender. “Do you really want me to walk into a public place with you sporting a big fucking bruise on my face that looks unmistakably like a handprint?”
He was silent, but I could hear his angry breathing through the phone. “Put some makeup on it.”
“Tried that. Then it just looks like a handprint with makeup caked on it.”
He hung up.
I took that as me being off the hook for the night. I texted Jericho. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
 
; “I’ll be waiting.”
I grabbed my purse and went into the bathroom to try once again to cover up the ugly mark on my face.
chapter 25
Roxie
Only two motorcycles sat out front of the small rental cabin. Pepper had the night off, and she’d made plans with Reed. He had been invited to her place. The screen door swung open as my foot landed on the first step.
Jericho looked breathtaking in any context, even just standing in a shabby doorway that was covered with enough cobwebs to make them look like sheer curtains. His smile wiped away all the crap of the day, but the second he saw my face, and my pathetic attempt at bruise camouflage, the grin disappeared.
His blue eyes flashed with rage. “I will fucking kill him.”
I put up my hand to stop his tirade. “Don’t, Jericho. I don’t need to hear from any more angry men today.” I walked up the steps and pressed myself into his arms. “In fact, I want and need the opposite.”
Anger still had his body tense, but he wrapped his arms around me. “I can do that.” He kissed me on the dusty porch and then took me by the hand and led me inside. Jacko was on the couch watching television. They’d turned the rustic, slightly worn cabin into a man’s retreat. Beer cans and empty pizza boxes lined the small kitchen counter. Paper plates and cups filled the little kitchen trash can. It looked exactly as I would have expected it. Jericho took my hand, and we headed to a short hallway.
“Hey, it’s my night in the bedroom tonight,” Jacko called.
Jericho stopped and turned around. “Out.”
His one word command earned a begrudging grumble from Jacko, but he got up and picked up his helmet. “Fine, fine. There’s a black jack table with my name on it. But any money I lose tonight, you’ll owe me.”