CHAPTER Fourteen
The gas tank was almost full when Clover left Dripping Springs, but by the time she got to Channelview she practically had to coast into Buc-ee's on fumes. She would have preferred a place that wasn’t so big and busy, but it was the only one that kept doors to restroom and coffee open in the middle of the night.
She used the Ladies’, drew an extra large extra bold coffee, doused it with creamer, and grabbed snacks with lots of sugar to help keep her awake. Just to be on the safe side, she also bought four twenty-ounce Red Bulls thinking that caffeine overdose couldn’t be worse than being turned over to a crime family that had inferred her next stop would be the sex traffic auction block.
After setting the items in her arms and hands down on the cashier’s counter, she said, “I also need to fill up and I’m paying cash.”
“Okay,” said the woman working the register. “How you doin’ this evenin’?”
“Alright,” Clover said, not feeling much like making new friends.
“That’ll be seventeen twenty-three.”
Clover handed over two ten dollar bills and got her change. “Okay. Can you turn on the pump on eight? Give me sixty dollars’ worth?” She counted out another six ten-dollar bills and handed them over.
“Sure thing.”
All the time she was pumping gas she was looking around for any indication that someone was overly interested in her. When the pump stopped, she quickly got behind the wheel. The tank was almost full. More than enough to get to Lafayette and figure out what to do next.
She turned the music up loud again knowing that high volume tunes and strong coffee was a good combination for staying alert.
As it happened, Stars and Bars member, Smoke Oakley, had been visiting a sister to see a brand new nephew in Baytown when he got the call that his MC was scouring the interstate corridor, west to east between Houston and Lafayette, looking for a girl in a Thin Lizzy tee. Like all Stars and Bars members, Smoke knew that route as well as his own name. Which wasn’t really Smoke. Since bikes need to be fed every hundred and seventy-five miles or so, he was also familiar with the stops along the way and which ones were open for restrooms and food between midnight and six. Not many.
When you cut that number to just those on the eastbound side of the four lane, checking them out was doable. And the first one was right there in Baytown.
There were three cashiers working at Buc-ee’s, which was lit up like midday.
He asked for a pack of smokes. “Hey, sweetheart.”
The woman behind the counter smiled at the endearment. She wasn’t the recipient of flirtation very often and Smoke was fairly good at it. He often quoted Bob Seger, “Ain't good lookin', but you know I ain't shy. Ain't afraid to look a girl
in the eye.”
He smiled. “I was supposed to meet my girlfriend down the road, but my phone’s dead.” He held up the back of his phone like he was submitting evidence, then quickly put it away in his pocket. “She might’ve stopped in here a little while ago. Real cute and wearin’ a blue tee shirt. Bad Reputation on it?”
He knew by the way she blinked that he’d hit pay dirt. He remained outwardly calm, but was feeling like he’d won the lottery on the inside. His prez was going to see him in an entirely different light. The way he deserved to be seen. As vice-president material.
“Yeah. The red Jeep? Paid cash to fill it up about an hour or so ago.”
He grinned at the lady. “Thanks, darlin’. You made my night.”
She smiled.
He winked and turned on his heel. As soon as he was outside the building, he was dialing Lock.
“She’s two hours from Lafayette, drivin’ a red Jeep.”
Clover had just passed a sign that said Lafayette thirty-two miles when she finished the last of her coffee. When she looked down to set the empty cup aside, she remembered the phone. Fishing in the oversized purse that sat on the passenger seat beside her, she found it and said, “Shit,” when she saw there was a message.
She listened and hit call back.
“It’s your phone,” Brash said.
Raze took the phone, swiped to answer, and growled, “Why didn’t you answer?”
“Sorry. I had the music turned up.”
“Where are you?”
“I, um… why?”
“Why do you think? ‘Cause I’m coming for you.”
“You are not.”
“Yes. I. Am.”
She bit her bottom lip. Once it turned out that the shit fest wasn’t going to go away as easy as it sounded the way Raze told it, she’d made a decision to keep him and his business out of it. Even if it meant taking her medicine.
It was evident that he liked her, but she didn’t have any concrete reason to think he liked her enough to come after her.
“No. I’m leaving you out of this.”
“Too late. I’m in it. So be a good girl and tell me where you are. Right now.”
“I just passed a sign that said thirty-two miles to Lafayette.”
“Okay. Gonna figure out a safe place for you to wait for me. Gonna call you back in a minute and tell you where. You gonna answer the phone when I call?”
She bit her bottom lip again. “Yes.”
“Seems like you’re a lot of trouble, stray girl.”
“That’s exactly why I want you out of this, Raze.”
“Not an option. I’m countin’ on you to pick up when I call you back.”
“Okay.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Yes. It’s a promise.”
He ended the call and handed the phone back to Brash. “I need a place where she can wait for us for… an hour if we keep makin’ this time and don’t get stopped.”
Brash took the phone and called Brant who, in turn, called Just Batiste.
“She’s a little less than half an hour out. Needs a place safe to wait for my people. What’s open at this time of night and busy enough to discourage certain elements from drawing attention to themselves?”
“Waffle House on the south side. Exit Louisiana. Before she gets to Pont des Mouton. We’ll keep people posted along I10. If we see her, yes, we’ll give her an escort straight to our home. If no, at least ten of us will be waiting to bring her with us. I will personally drive her. Is she beautiful?”
“That is not funny.”
Batiste laughed. “Joking. She is safe with Devils.”
“Holdin’ you to that. And, in case it’s not understood. I owe you.”
Batiste laughed. “Oh oui. Most sure was understood.”
Brash answered as soon as the face of his phone lit, before it made a sound. “Yeah.”
“Batiste says for her to go to the Waffle House. It’s on I10 on the south side. Tell her to get off at Louisiana. The Devils have eyes on 10. If they see her and can catch her, they’ll give her an escort to their facility. If not, there’ll be at least ten waiting to take her to the club.”
Brash relayed the information then dialed Raze’s phone and handed it to him. When it rang three times, he said under his breath, “Come on. Make the right choice and pick the fuck up.”
“Hello?” she said.
He closed his eyes with relief for as long as he dared while speeding along at ninety-two miles per hour.
“We have a plan. Go to the Waffle House. You’re just twenty minutes away now. Probably. It’ll be on your right. Get off at Louisiana. And now listen. ‘Cause this is important. There are bikers out there, friends of ours, who are lookin’ for you. If they see you before you get to the Waffle House, they’ll try to overtake you and give you an escort. So don’t be afraid. They’re gonna take you to their club. You’ll be safe till we get there. If they don’t see you or don’t catch you, there’ll be others waitin’ to take you to the club.”
“Okay.”
“You got all that?”
“Yes.”
“I’m right here. If there’s anything you’re not sure about, call me.”
“Okay.”
“It’s all gonna be okay.”
She smiled in the darkness at his attempt to reassure. Raze was surprisingly nurturing for a wall of muscle, hard-edged biker-roadhouse owner. He couldn’t see her smile, of course, but he did hear the big breath she took in, like she was summoning determination. Or courage. “Right. Later.”
Thibaut Le Cocq pulled into the Big T truck stop when he reached the first exit to Lafayette, and called the Stars and Bars prez.
“Lock,” he answered. He was sitting on the deck of an Irish dive bar where he could keep an eye on his bike. It wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where University of Louisiana Ragin’ Cajuns were likely to go for off campus fun. But it was exactly the kind of place where Lock felt at home.
They were closed, of course. But it was as good a place as any to use as a half ass command center. He’d used the cutter he kept in his saddlebags to break the chain that kept deck chairs from disappearing overnight, pulled the top one off the stack and made himself comfortable.
“What’ve you got?”
Lock gave a low and humorless chuckle. “We might know somethin’. But you’ve given us fifty thousand spendable reasons not to share too early.”
A muscle ticked in Thibaut’s jaw. “Well. Let’s amend the deal then. If you know where she is, let me in on it. I’ll still honor the split. I’d rather see you with half than me with nothin’.”
“Alright then,” Lock drawled. “She should be pullin’ into the parish at any time now. Drivin’ a red Jeep. I’ve got people posted on I10, keepin’ an eye out. Don’t know where she’s headed, but we will pick her up and when we do, we won’t lose her.”
After the first phone contact with Raze, Clover had slowed way down. Once she’d decided to stop blocking Raze’s attempts to help, she reasoned that it made sense to slow down and give him a chance to catch up.
When she saw the first Lafayette exit, for Lafayette Parish and Acadia Parish, she decided to get off and go the rest of the way on the access road. That way she’d be sure to not miss the Waffle House. And since she wasn’t in a big hurry…
While the Sons, the Stars, and the Devils all had people looking at I10, it was essentially impossible to spot a particular car. Headlights. Tail lights. Trucks. But picking out a particular SUV when most of the vehicles that were not trucks were SUVs? Unlikely at best.
So the plan to post eyes at the exits to Lafayette was a good one. The access roads were lit by street lights at the points of exits and vehicles had to slow or stop for traffic lights. That particular exit had a gas station convenience store on the northwest corner, another one just like it with a different name on the southwest corner, and a Whataburger on the southeast corner.
In the parking lot shadows of each of those enterprises was a member of a motorcycle club, waiting idly but alert, watching for a red Jeep. None of the three were aware of the others until Stars and Bars roared in behind Clover as she slowed to stop at the red light.
Eric, from the SSMC, and the Cajun Devil, who’d illegally crossed four lanes and run a red light, pulled in behind Clover and the other biker. The two acknowledged each other with a nod. As they waited for the light, the Devil pulled out his phone, tapped it, and gave a hand signal he hoped would be understood, for his SSMC counterpart to call in the good news that they had the woman and the bad news that she had a Stars and Bars tail.
Eric did understand.
When the light changed, he went through then pulled over and called Brant.
Aware of the other two bikers, Stars and Bars went around Clover, planning to stop at the next exit and call Lock with the news without losing sight of the Jeep.
“Boss,” he said. “I got her on the access road, but we’re not alone. Two other bikers are on us.”
“WHAT OTHER BIKERS?” Lock stormed.
“Couldn’t see their colors. You want me to stay on her or drop back and try to find out?”
Lock growled, “Stay on her.” He ended the call and dialed up his VP who said, “Bunch of Devils were seen hanging out at the Waffle House. You think there’s a connection?”
“Fuck. Yes. I think there’s a connection.”
Lock ended the call, but alerted every one of his guys to move toward the Waffle House. Since he was a suspicious son of a whore, he’d made every member in the club subscribe to Life 360 so that he could see where they were every minute of the day.
He got a fix on the bike following the target, stepped off the bar deck and threw a leg over his Harley. But there was one more thing to do before he headed over to see what the night would bring. He called Le Cocq. “You think you can find the Waffle House?”
Clover slowed and stopped at the next light. Her headlights were shining directly on the Stars and Bars cut.
She dialed Raze.
He answered. “Here.”
“I’m at a stop light on the access road. There’s a biker in front of me. He’s got one of those Confederate flag things on the back of his jacket. Is that who I’m supposed to go with?”
Raze’s heart was starting to race and his breathing was getting heavier.
“What the hell is it?” Brash demanded.
“She’s got Stars and Bars on her.”
“Tell her to keep goin’ to the Waffle House. Our people will be there.”
“Alright. Listen sugar. Just keep goin’ until you get to the Waffle House. Our people will be there. Cajun Devils. Their colors look like a blue demon. Some or all of the Sons will probably be there, too. Don’t worry. We’ve got you covered. Just don’t pull over. No matter what. If he tries to force you over to the side of the road or make you stop, you just keep goin’ even if you have to run over him and his bike. Your Jeep’ll do that for you if you ask. When you get to the Waffle House, find the Devils and stay with them.”
“Okay.”
He hated the fact that her voice sounded shaky. She was there and he wasn’t.
Brash called Brant as soon as he had the phone in his hand. Brant had already gotten the call from Eric and relayed the information to Batiste and Arnold, who was in charge of the SSMC arm of the operation until Brash was on the scene.
Within five minutes the members of all three clubs had been alerted that the vehicle of interest might be headed to the Waffle House.
Batiste called the sheriff, who was on speed dial, and woke him up.
“For the safely of your personnel, I strongly suggest you create a reason for them to be on the east side of town for the next couple of hours. All of them.”
The sheriff sat up on the side of his bed. “Is this a situation that’s going to come back on me?”
“Not if it can be avoided. But dead deputies will surely come back on you. Yes?”
“Christ. When?”
“Right now.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
The parish sheriff’s department was just a couple of blocks from the Waffle House. So the Devils had a front row seat to the spectacle of a parade of deputy vehicles racing away with lights flashing and sirens blasting.
Bikers from all three clubs took note of all the law enforcement vehicles racing west on the north I10 access road, away from where they were headed.
When the light changed, the biker in front of Clover moved forward and into the left lane. She was uncertain what to do, but continued in the right lane and passed him. Between an ignored red light and an extra burst of speed, Eric caught up with the Jeep.
Since Clover had picked up more bikers at every exit she passed, there were seven, counting Eric. Two Devils. Two Stars and Bars. Three SSMC.
She called Raze’s phone again.
“I’m here,” he answered.
“There are seven bikers behind me. I don’t know whether they’re your guys or…”
“Some of them are friends. You’re probably close to the Waffle House. Just keep doin’ what you’re doin’. I’m almost there.”
“Almost here? How can that be?”
“I, ah, drove fast.”
“Oh. But why are they after me? If it was, um, taken care of?”
“Just a mix up. They said yes to the deal, but forgot to call off the dogs. By tomorrow it’ll all be resolved. For good. Meantime, you’re gonna be taken care of. Don’t worry.”
“Okay. I think I see a Waffle House sign.”
“Look for the Devils. Some of us, I mean the SSMC, will be there, too.”
“Uh-huh.” She ended the call and put the phone in the drink holder.
The Waffle House sign was tall. Yellow with black block caps lettering.
The parking lot wasn’t brightly lit, but there was enough illumination to make out the twenty-five or so bikes parked at the north end. She drove straight toward them and stopped, shining her lights directly into the faces of the men who were standing around, some of them smoking. She thought she recognized some of them from Bike Night at the roadhouse, but wasn’t taking any chances.
The biker who’d been following on the access road turned into the Waffle House parking lot entrance, but fell back and joined a few other bikers.
After a few seconds of keeping her headlights trained on the bikers in front of her, a couple of them came forward. One was a youngish heartthrob. Black hair, blue eyes, and a cocky smile. The other was a guy she was pretty sure she’d seen at the roadhouse earlier that very same night, which seemed liked it was weeks in the past.
The pretty one tapped his knuckles on her window. She shook her head and said, “Turn around,” through the glass.
Batiste complied, as did the other guy.
There was the blue demon Raze had said to look for and the temple snake she’d seen the SSMC bikers wear. She rolled down the window.
“I’m Clover,” she said.
“Clover.” Batiste smiled. “Can you move to the other side of the car and let me drive?”
She nodded.
When he got in and started the car, everybody got on their bikes, readying to ride out. But when he turned toward the exit, a white van pulled in followed by the deafening noise of twenty-two motorcycles who formed a blockade in front of the exit.
“Huh,” Batiste said, absent of the concern most people would think appropriate for the circumstance. “Seems there will be a delay in our departure.”
He smiled at Clover in a way that would normally accompany something like an announcement that dessert was being served.
The bikers who had straddled their bikes dismounted as Batiste backed the Jeep up.
It was a standoff.
Twenty-two Stars and Bars with whatever was inside that white van.
Twenty-five combined Devils and SSMC, one red Jeep.
And the girl that everybody there was determined to leave with.
The Devils’ prez had sent somebody inside to confiscate phones and assure the occupants of the building that no one would be harmed. As it was four on a Friday morning, or a Thursday night depending on your point of view, there were only four people present. A cook. A waitress. And a road-weary couple moving their stuff in a U-Haul truck from Jackson to New Orleans.
The cook, who was in his late sixties, but had once been a biker, took it in stride and offered the Devil something to eat. He smiled and asked the cook, “You got a landline in here?”
The cook nodded and led the way. The Devil unplugged the phone and took it along with the four cell phones. “I’ll bring these back shortly. If you’d just make sure everybody stays calm. When I return the phones, there’ll be a good tip for you and a free dinner for the nice couple.”
Batiste got out of the Jeep, walked a few feet forward, and raised his voice. “It’s your intention to prevent us from leaving?”
The driver’s door of the white van opened. A guy in collared polo, jeans, boots, and a baseball cap got out with a bullhorn.
“My business is with the lady,” he said, the bullhorn boosting his voice like an amped mic. “Clover Fields. Look around you. There are a lot of people here who could get hurt. I know you don’t want that. You’re a receptionist. Not a desperado. So come on over here and go with me peacefully. You won’t be harmed and neither will any of these people.”
For a few seconds the only sound was the whirr of an eighteen-wheeler passing by on the interstate. She opened the passenger door and got out.
“No,” Arnold said as he marched toward her planning to physically put her back in the car and close the door.
She read all of that in his face and knew she had only a fraction of a second to make her decision. She chose Raze. She knew he was close, which made him vulnerable to whatever was about to happen as well as his friends. And for what? To save her from what she probably deserved.
Because, in truth, when she was brutally honest with herself, she knew that money wasn’t hers and that she shouldn’t be paying off her debts with it. Certainly other people shouldn’t have to pay for that mistake just because they loved somebody who wanted to protect her.
All that processed in the lightning-fast computer that is the human brain in an instant and before Arnold could reach her she ran straight toward Thibaut Le Cocq, whose expression changed to pure shock.
He’d thought the bullhorn thing was worth a shot, but he wouldn’t have given it hundred to one odds to work. He gaped as she ran toward him. What Clover didn’t know was that the SSMC and Devils were right behind her. They were slowed down by surprise, biker boots, and the fact that none of them had been all city high school sprinters just four years earlier as she had.
When she came within grabbing distance, Le Cocq turned her around and took her into a neck hold and put a gun to her head. “Here’s what we’re about to do. None of you gentlemen will move till I secure my prisoner.”
He began to drag Clover backward toward the rear of the van when a Dodge truck came practically flying over the curb and across the landscaping, snapping the steel cables that held Brash’s bike in place so that it tipped over.
When the pickup came to a rest as if it was tailgating the faceoff, Raze slammed open his door and rushed toward Clover, but stopped dead when he saw the gun to her head.
He’d forgotten about Bless, who understood everything about Clover being in danger and understood nothing about guns. While Brash was getting out of the truck, Bless squeezed between the seats, leaped from the open driver’s side door, and charged the bounty hunter.
When he saw ninety-four pounds of canine streaking toward him, he loosened his hold on Clover and moved the gun to aim at the dog.
She took in what was happening as if it was in slow motion and when she saw the gun muzzle move so that it was pointed at Bless, she screamed, “NO!” and threw her entire weight toward the arm that held the gun. Le Cocq’s trigger finger squeezed involuntarily, but he fired in the direction of Raze’s truck and hit no one.
Bless was unconcerned with everything except sinking her teeth into Le Cocq and holding on.
If the Stars and Bars had had their wits about them, they would have prevented Clover from leaving, but they were caught up in the surprise and drama of an enraged German Shepherd and stray gunfire. So she slipped away easily and ran to Raze who opened his arms for her at the same time he shouted, “Ostenovlivalivatseeya!”
Bless had Le Cocq on the ground, curled into a ball, whimpering, and trying to protect his face and neck with his arms.
The dog’s vicious snarls stopped as quickly and completely as if she’d been unplugged. She trotted over to Raze and looked up, wagging her tail, with Le Cocq’s blood all over her face.
“Good girl,” Raze said, reaching down to give her a heartfelt petting.
Lock took a look at Le Cocq on the ground. Even if they fought the Devils and the SSMC for the girl, they weren’t going to get their money. He spat on the ground.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Within two minutes the Stars and Bars were headed east on I10, leaving Le Cocq where he fell. Fucker.
Phones were returned to Waffle House personnel and patrons. And an invitation was extended to the SSMC to use the Devils’ guest rooms for some sleep and have a genuine Cajun breakfast.
They thanked the Devils, said they’d chug energy drinks instead.
“Brant says to call him tomorrow,” Brash told Batiste. “We’re ready to sign some papers.”
Batiste grinned and shook Brash’s hand enthusiastically. “You could do worse than us for friends.”
“After tonight, don’t see how we can argue with that,” Brash said. Witnessing that the Devils were willing to stand for a fire fight for no other reason than being asked was an actions-speak-louder-than-words event.
Raze was still feeling adrenaline pumping through his veins. Seeing Clover with a gun at her head had scared him more than anything he’d ever experienced. And considering his history, that was saying something.
He wrapped her up tight in his arms and squeezed until every cell in his brain and body was convinced she was alright. When he loosened his hold, he said in a raspy voice, “You saved my dog.”
Clover’s arms still encircled his waist. She dropped her head back so she could see his face. “No. The dog saved me.”
Raze smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “Know one thing. Anybody who tries to fuck with my girls is gonna be sorry.”
It took four guys to stand Brash’s bike back up and get it out of the truck, but it was rideable.
“Gotta love Harley Davidson.” Brash laughed.
So they changed the tire on Raze’s truck. They put Dev’s bike in the truck and he drove it back because Brash was more than ready to be out in the open. Not to mention that he expected Raze and Clover might like some time alone.
Before they left Brash asked Raze, “When did you learn the special commands?”
“Rescue taught ‘em to me. I didn’t think I’d ever need them, but it turned out it was a good idea. The Russian thing’s kind of genius.”
“Yeah. Rescue’s one of a kind.”
Brash turned away to call Brant and debrief. “Damnedest thing. There are fifty badass bikers standin’ around watchin’ the girl and the dog take care of business. Never heard of anything like it.” He laughed.
When Brash ended the call to Brant, Raze and Clover were getting ready to leave. They’d argued about who was going to drive until they finally resolved it with a coin toss. Raze won. He said he’d drive the first two hours and give the wheel to her with no intention of doing so.
Brash caught the passenger door of the Jeep as Clover was getting in. In a hushed tone that only she could hear, he said, “You’d better not break his heart.”
Clover took in the serious expression on Brash’s handsome face. As he closed the door, she made no reply, but thought how glad she was that Raze had friends who loved him.
Traveling on I10 at a reasonable speed, the sun coming up behind them, Raze said, “So you got no reason to be going anywhere now.”
After a few minutes she said, “I do have a reason. A big one. I owe you a truckload of money. If things are really going to be settled, the smart thing would be to find the best paying job I can get so I can pay you back before time to worry about how I’m going to pay for the nursing home. I’m not complaining about tips, but it will take most of my life to pay you back at that rate.”
“That’d be the smart thing to do?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“You do not think that would be the smart thing to do.”
“I don’t?”
“No. The smart thing would be to accept that the debt’s paid. You don’t owe me anything. But the rest of your life.”
She laughed. “Is that a joke?”
He didn’t look like he was kidding. “No, stray girl. It’s not a joke. We got somethin’ between you and me. You know that. Right?”
“Of course I know there’s a… spark. Maybe I could stick around long enough to find out if it goes somewhere?”
Raze was shaking his head. “No. We’re not lookin’ at things that way.”
“We’re not?”
“No.”
“How are we looking at things?”
“Like this. I’m gonna be your family. You’re gonna be mine. I’m gonna be your best friend. You’re gonna be mine. Every night I’m goin’ to sleep thanking all that’s holy that you’re in my bed. Every morning I’m wakin’ up thanking all that’s holy that you’re in my arms and I’m gonna remind myself that there could never be another woman ‘cause nobody’s as cute and cuddly as you.” At that point Clover felt her eyes stinging and knew he was seeing the telltale signs of tearing up, but she was powerless to stop the emotion from rising.
She was liking what she was hearing.
So. Much.
But he wasn’t yet done.
“And you’re gonna wake up every mornin’ knowing that there could never be another man ‘cause nobody’s gonna care for you and protect you and appreciate you the way I do.” The first tear spilled over her bottom lashes and ran down her cheek. He reached over and wiped it away with his thumb. “What’s that about?”
“You’re talking commitment.”
He cocked his head. “Glad to see you’re up to speed.”
She smiled and swiped at her face. “We barely know each other.”
“Bullshit. We know enough. We know we fit and what else is there?”
“What else is there?” she repeated then shook her head. “Nothing else matters.”
He slowed then pulled off on the side of the road before treating her to his grin that was both sardonic and spectacular. The one that made her forget to breathe. It was sexy. It was joyful. It was glorious in the way of brightening everything within her visual perimeter. Her lips parted in appreciation just before he took advantage of that by delivering a deep kiss of claiming, one she would still remember when she was a nonagenarian.
When she recovered her wits, she said, “In that case, I think I should ask about your name. What is it?”
“Raze.”
She rolled her eyes and gave him a look. “The name on your birth certificate.”
He sighed deeply, looked away, but seemed to make up his mind that he’d tell her anything she wanted to know. “Leif.”
She laughed. “Come on. What is it really?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Darlin’. I’m not that clever. Swear to Christ, it’s Leif.”
She studied him until she came to believe he might be telling the truth. “Well then. It’s a sign.”
“What kinda sign?”
“That we’re destined to be together.”
He laughed. Raze didn’t know about signs or destiny or the like. He didn’t believe in soul mates or falling in love at first sight or any crap like that. But he did believe that there was an adorably quirky blonde who’d sewn up the wounds and filled up the holes and made life look like something worth doing again.
As Raze relived the events of the night a question came up in his mind. “How’d he get ahold of you anyway?”
She sighed. “He said your friends were going to get hurt if I didn’t go with him.” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “I couldn’t let that happen. I mean, I did take the money.” She turned to look out the window at the landscapes she hadn’t seen in the dark of night.
“You mean the SSMC and the Devils just let you walk off? Into the hands of a bounty hunter?” He sounded incredulous.
“Well, they didn’t exactly let me. I kind of ran before they had a chance to figure out I was going. I was a sprinter in high school.” She giggled. “Guess I’ve still got it.”
“You’re full of surprises, aren’t ya?” She shrugged prettily. “Yeah. And you’re plenty cute, too. But don’t ever think about doin’ somethin’ so half-witted again.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he had more to say. “So far as the money goes, you seem to have a cockeyed view of morality.”
“Oh really.”
“Yeah. You didn’t steal money from somebody else’s gym locker. Did you?”
“No.”
“That’s right. It was your locker. Somebody put a pile of ill-gotten gains in your locker. So far as you were concerned it was a bird nest on the ground. You know why you thought that?”
“Why?”
“Because on some level you knew the lockers all around yours were rented by women who weren’t storing three hundred thousand dollars of cash in duffels.”
“Two seventy five.”
“Whatever. You also knew somebody had to pick your lock to get in. Right?”
“Yes. But honestly, I did know it wasn’t mine.”
He laughed. “That’s just it, sugar. It wasn’t theirs either.”
She sat back, cocked her head and thought about that. Raze might have used machinations to come to his conclusion, but it was logical. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Now she’s getting’ it. You didn’t do anything wrong except put your sweet self in danger. Which you are never gonna do again. Right?”
She grinned. “Right.”
He really, really, really wanted to believe her. But it didn’t matter. If she was one of those people who had trouble trailing her around, she was still his. Right or wrong. Good or bad.
“Just saying though.” She looked at her nails. “That women who are fast can do what they want.”