FOUND: A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel (19 page)

He smiled and began softly chuckling. “
Virgil
? Virgil came back and let you go?”

“Yeah...”

“Bitch...”

Abruptly his fist hit my stomach, knocking the air out of me and I curled up onto him. He shook it off like he was swatting a fly.

“...You take me for a fool? Virgil's out in the Islands. I know that for a goddamn fact. Now get some air in those fucking lungs. I don't know what shit you've pulled, but I swear you ain't going to be lucky twice. We heading to my car and straight back up to the house. You can tell me the truth when we on the road.”

“What...” I gasped out between coughs, “What if I scream?”

He firmly gripped my jersey and pulled me upright. His words seeped from his mouth like venom, “You think this place –
a tiny town like this
- has a police force? I'm parked round the corner. Right outside. I rate my chances of getting you back on that road. What I don't rate are the chances of the bitch waitress in her and the chef hiding out back. You feel me?”

“Yeah.”

“You want her dead?”

I cradled my stinging stomach and thought of Kaitlin. She couldn't have been older than eighteen and he would be willing to snuff her out without a second thought. I might have been hurting, but if I didn't relent she would get worse. A large caliber cartridge worse.

“No... Of course not.”

Jerome stepped back out from the stall and ushered me to follow. He warned me, “I'm putting this big thing back down my pants. If you try anything –
anything
- it's coming back out. Got it? We're paying and then walking to my car.”

I quickly glanced at my reflection in the mirror. In the harsh light of the bathroom the big bruise he gave me previously was more visible than I realized. He towered behind me and seemed so much taller. The window next to the basin was wide open, though I didn't contemplate trying anything. He may have been fighting to keep his cool, but he was mad as hell. All I thought about was making sure no one would get caught in my crossfire. I prayed we could get to the car without incident.

We walked out of the restroom and towards Kaitlin. She sat idly by the counter reading her book, probably counting down the minutes until quitting time.

“Hey. Can I get you anything else?” She smiled, completely unaware of what was going on.

Jerome lingered a distance behind me. He stopped at his table and finished up a cup of coffee.

“Not for me... Can I pay?”

Her brow furrowed and she pointed down to my glass. “You're not going to drink that?”

My eyes darted to Jerome who paced up towards us. “I can't... Just got a call. It's important. I need to be going.”

“No problem,” she replied. “Hey... maybe I can tell you about the book next time you come through.”

I smiled. “I'd like that.”

“I'll be paying too,” Jerome stated loudly while coming into view. “And compliments to the chef back there. Best meal I've had in a long while.”

I patted myself down. Without pockets in anything I wore I forgot to bring the cash Boyd gave me from the bike. I looked at the waitress sheepishly. “I think my purse is at home.”

“Left it in your b---”

“
No
...” I cut her off before she revealed to Jerome what I had come here on and gave him enough to piece two and two together. “I think I've forgotten it period.”

“Let me.” Jerome stepped in closer, his arm – now placed on the base of my spine - made my skin crawl. He flicked a couple of notes onto the counter of what would have been most definitely the MC's payoff. “I'm a gentleman. It's always a pleasure to help a damsel in distress...”

Those horrifying words cut through me sharper than any blade. With it my heart pounded in my chest as I tensed every fiber in my body trying to keep up the facade nothing at all was wrong. I turned to him. “Thank you...”

Jerome grinned smugly from ear to ear. “No problem,
ma'am
. It's my pleasure.”

“My mom always says there are no good people left, but I think she's wrong,” Kaitlin commented, half-talking to herself while turning and putting the cash in the register. What she didn't notice was Jerome's arm snaking down and taking a big handful of my ass. “Want a receipt?”

“No... I trust you,” Jerome replied to her. “I get the sense that both me and you can tell good people from bad.”

“Sure.” She smiled to both of us. “Thank you both. Make sure you have a nice day.”

“Bye,” I half-whispered. Sweat must have been dripping from my brow.

“I will. I will,” Jerome beamed contentedly in the knowledge of what he had gotten away with.

I headed to the exit with Jerome slowly following me. Outside my eyes went straight for Boyd's Harley, which stood at the other side of the lot to my left. All I could think of was to try and distract him and hope he would miss the obvious. I stopped abruptly in front of him and acted confused trying to point him away from the bike. “Where's your car?”

He kissed his teeth annoyed. “I told you. It's round the corner. You stupid or deaf?”

I smiled when he stepped past me. So much for being stupid. My distraction worked to perfection.

Jerome kept in line with my pace while we made our way to his Escalade. Stationed around the other side of the building, it was hidden from my view when I parked.

“Get in,” he ordered.

I took my seat on the passenger side. His gun was out again by the time he sat down next to me. Not speaking, he drove out of the parking lot and back onto the main road. We were quickly traveling up the highway and along Death Valley Road.

~ Chapter Twenty ~

“I tell you, bitch,” Jerome told me as he drove recklessly back into the desert. “I'm going to get it out of you soon. I don't know what you've done, but you've been up to something... You couldn't have hitchhiked. Not in this heat...”

Throughout the journey I kept my lips sealed. I stuck to a story that the chains in the basement broke loose and I managed to walk up the trail before being spotted by some tourists on their way to Barstow who dropped me off in Baker to find my own way home. He didn't buy it, but at the same time he wasn't frothing at the mouth. In his head I assumed the thought that he may have lucked out in finding me won over. It certainly explained the egotistical smile on his lips the entire journey.

“...I tell you what, nothing like this will be happening again.
Ever
. This time you're down there for good. At least... until I can reason with you again.”

I eyeballed the barrel of his gun. Gripped in his hand and against the wheel it had pointed at me from the moment we left. “Is that what you call reason? Pointing that thing at me?”

He spat out of the open window next to him. “You be acting like a ho, I treat you like a ho. To be honest I'm starting to wonder if you'll never stop acting up.”

“Jerome, get it into your head. I'll never be yours again. You destroyed any feelings I still had for you when you smashed my face in Crenshaw and gunned that cop down.”

His pleased smirk only grew. “We'll see... we'll see. I like a challenge.”

Jerome pressed down his foot on the accelerator and we sped ever closer to Virgil's place. The sun was setting and the colors filling the Death Valley sky were a mixture of breathtaking blues, purples and reds. If I wasn't in this situation I would have called it beautiful.

“What's the time?” I asked. The clock in Jerome's car died months back.

He quickly glanced at his watch, “Six. Why you ask?”

“I want to catch one of my soap operas.”

“
Shit
... you one funny bitch.”

I wasn't annoyed by his threatening tone. My mind was preoccupied trying to piece together when the MC would be arriving at the house to meet Boyd. They were coming a long way from Midnight, but since I set off this afternoon a lot of time had already passed. Boyd said to expect him in Barstow for nightfall. For all I knew, with the sun setting, Jerome could be driving into a club meeting. One in which he was the first order of the day. Hopefully. It didn't take away all of my anxiety from being in a car with a psycho, though it sure helped.

Five miles out Virgil's pad came into view. I craned my neck out of the window to catch any sign of Boyd. If he, or the MC, were around they certainly weren't letting on.

“What you doing woman?”

I straightened myself up. “Taking in the view. Thought I saw some horses in the hills.”

“Horses? Who wants to see horses? The only good thing up here are the rattlesnakes. I love me some snakes.”

His affinity with rattlesnakes didn't surprise me. He was filled with as much cold blood and venom as the worst of them.

The path that led to the house was narrow, long and could barely be called a road. It didn't take long for us to get up there. Coming into view it was as still as the desert.

“Ready to cook when you back?” Jerome asked the second we pulled up out front. “I got dinner piled up in the trunk. You can make us something good.”

“Cook it yours---”

“FUCK!” Jerome screamed.

A huge bang had rang outside, followed by a ping against the front of his Escalade.

“What the fuck was that?” He shouted while half-outside of the car. “One of the tires gone?”

Again the loud blast exploded through the air. Instantly I realized that Boyd must be firing potshots at the car.

“Oh shit!
Oh shit
!” Jerome, understanding too, dived back inside the car and next to me. “Gunshots! Motherfucking gunshots! What the fuck?”

Fighting to get through his weight, I screamed, “Boyd! Boyd! I'm in the car.”

“You mother fucking whore!” Jerome hissed and drove an elbow straight down into my chest. He stuck his hand through the opening and fired shots – at least four - randomly at the house. The curse words poured from his mouth with each pull of the trigger.

In reply, another bullet shot out from the house, this time taking out the windscreen, and Jerome dived low into the car with me. The glass above was cracked into a million and one pieces. Temporary silence swallowed the scene. All I heard was the beating of my heart and the desperation of Jerome's breath.

Then the silence broke.

“Young! It's Boyd Vendrell! Let Cassie go and step away from the car. There's still a chance we can do this without bloodshed if you play your cards right! You don't need to get her involved,” he shouted as loud as his lungs could.

“You wrecked my goddamn car mother fucker!” Jerome snarled again, jumping upright and firing off more shots at the house. He swung his arm furiously without any desire to aim. “You gonna die punk!”

Another bullet fired and the whole of Jerome's weight was back on top of me while he hid from the assault. It was a warning shot. Boyd sent it over the car's roof.

“Think, Young!
Think
! That's a powerful gun you got there, but how many shots have you got left? You had what, nine in that chamber? Come out and we can talk!”

“Shit,” Jerome seethed between his teeth realizing he had been too careless with his bullets.

“Come on... I've got a few clips on me. Is the same true for you? Let her go, come out and I give you my word of honor that we can talk! You owe my club a lot of money, but if we can fix this without you hurting her I'm willing to let you walk.”

Honestly, I would like to say I am brave and tough in a crisis, but the second the bullets began shooting my eyes were locked tight and I was as useless as a newborn. From my head to my toes I was petrified. All logical thought left me. All I considered was hiding and survival.

Though when Jerome heard Boyd's plea to let me go he instantly brought me back to reality and the middle of the situation. Jerome took a fistful of my hair and, sliding out of the car, dragged me with him.

“Let her go!” Boyd's voice urged from an unseen position in the house.

“Vendrell! Where the fuck are you? You like this? I got her... I got a gun against her blond head. You like that? How does that make you feel?” Jerome pushed me against the car and shook me like a rag doll. He nearly ripped out my roots.

“Let her be! This has got nothing to do with her. Let her go and we can talk civilized!”

The tears welled in my eyes. “Please. Listen Jerome. Listen”

“Bitch be quiet!” He screamed, slamming my head down into the car and then jamming the gun to my temple. “You no use to me anymore whore! Now Vendrell!
Listen up
! You got two choices. Throw down your weapon, get your ass out here and I'll let her free. Or stay where you are and I put a bullet in her whore-ass head!”

Bent over the car I stared inside the house and trembled as I waited for Boyd's reply. Death knocked on my door, though the last thing I wanted was for him to willing toss himself to the lions.

“Well, punk? What's it to be?” Shouted Jerome. “She mean that much to you?”

“
Boyd
---”

“OK! OK! I'll do as you say,” Boyd called out, his voice nearing. “You win Young... I'll come out, but don't you hurt her!”

I may have been a scared lamb, but in my mind's eye I saw exactly what was going to happen next. Boyd was stepping into danger because of me, and Jerome wasn't to be trusted. I screamed like a banshee, “Don't! Don't come out! Don't trust him!”

“Shut it!” Jerome slammed his arm into my back.

“OK,
OK
!” Boyd called. “I'm walking out!”

I peered over the car and saw him appearing through the front door. In his left hand he held up his gun dangling on a fingertip, in the other he carried two clips. Walking out onto the dust in his big leather boots he moved slowly and with control, stepping without fear. Behind the house the sun was setting and the day's heat gently ebbed away with a gust of wind that blew through his hair.

“Toss 'em!” Jerome belted out, his body shaking with fury. “Throw it all to me!”

Instantaneously the gun and both clips were thrown over the car and behind. Boyd was left standing defenseless out in the open.