The Handler (Noir et Bleu Motorcycle Club #2) (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lincoln exited the arena and walked quickly along the concourse. I ran to catch up, clutched her by the elbow, and swung her around. “Sorry.”

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and glared at me. “Sorry for what?”

“For whatever I did to make you upset.”

She shook her head in frustration and stormed off. I ran and lunged in front of her so she would have to stop walking.

“I’m sorry.”

“You can’t apologize for something when you don’t even know what you did.”

“I kissed you. I don’t know why you’re upset, but I’m still sorry.”

She shoved my chest. “Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why did you want to? Your moods fluctuate worse than my mom’s. Yesterday, you were sweet and protective and it was obvious you want to be with me. Last night, you randomly turn into an asshole and try to ditch me. Now, we’re back to you kissing me and acting like you want to have a relationship. Do you really like me or was that Jumbotron thing a publicity stunt designed to provoke someone who wants you dead? Am I just part of your plan? A pawn in your stupid chess game vendetta?”

“No.”

“Why did you kiss me?” she yelled.

I frowned and stepped back. After a few seconds, I closed my eyes and tried to make the words come out of my mouth.

“It’s a simple question, Cain.”

Yeah. It was a simple question, but she was Lincoln Todd. I was a nobody electrician who put her in danger just by knowing her. After a lot of effort, the only thing I could force out of my throat was, “Sorry.”

“So, you’re just using me?”

“No.” I sat down on the curb and crushed my hands against my skull like a vise.

“It’s cruel to play with my feelings like that.” She choked back a sob, and it made me wince to hear it. “Why won’t you just tell me how you really feel? What are you so afraid of?”

“Hurting you.”

She stopped pacing and stood on the curb next to me. “You’re already hurting me, James.”

When I didn’t respond, she stepped into the lane and hailed a cab. I shouted as I sprung to my feet. She got in and slammed the door without waiting for me. The car carried her down the street, then turned at the intersection and disappeared. I hailed the next cab that drove by and made him speed to tail her. We caught up three blocks down and followed them to the hotel. I gave her time to enter the lobby first so she wouldn’t know I was right behind her. I hung out near the rotating door and watched as she crossed the foyer toward the elevators. Her head was down, texting, as she stepped in alone and the doors slid closed.

I sat down at one of the guest computers near the front desk. A minute later, my phone rang with a call from Tim.

“Why did Lincoln just request security duty at a three star hotel in downtown Montreal?” he asked.

“She thinks she’s alone, but I’m here. I’m in the lobby.”

“What the fuck’s going on, Cain?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you.”

“I’ll be there in an hour. Don’t leave her alone.”

“Yeah.” I sighed and hung up. At least he still trusted me enough to keep her safe until he showed up. I wasn’t sure I had the same faith in my ability to do that. The situation was too complicated, and there were too many gaping holes in the facts to be able to make an informed decision.

The woman on the street in my old neighborhood had said I reminded her of Martin. I wondered if that was Frenchie’s real name, so I typed Martin Dewalt, Montreal, and Boomslangs into the search engine on the computer screen. An entire list of articles came up. I started with the first one and made my way down. One of the originating members of the Boomslangs was named Martin Dewalt. He was charged with murder before I was born and sentenced to twenty years in prison. Based on the dates in the article, he would have been released sometime in the last twelve months.

Digger must have known him personally from their Montreal days, which meant my dad would have known him, too. Obviously, that had something to do with the complication that was keeping him alive. I read more articles trying to find a link between my dad and Martin Dewalt that would explain why the first thing he did after being released from prison was hunt my dad down, put a bullet in his head, and set him on fire. I couldn’t find anything that mentioned my dad or Digger.

I scribbled notes of what I did know on the back of a brochure and stared at them looking for a pattern. Martin Dewalt. Founding Boomslangs’ P. Hit Southpaw with two Boomslangs. Bombed tour bus in attempt to kill Lincoln. Ordered Boomslangs to kidnap Huck. Killed two Boomslangs to protect Lincoln.

It didn’t make any sense, unless I was wrong about at least half of it. The only thing I knew for sure was that I needed to find out more about Dewalt. I needed to visit Marie Josie, and in order to do that, I needed everyone else to believe I was with Lincoln. I phoned Tim and asked him to make the arrangements.

Then I phoned Huck. She answered but still wasn’t speaking.

“Hey,” I said and exhaled the built up stress. “I know you’re probably mad at me for not coming home yet. I want to see you, but I need to handle a few more things before I can leave. You’ll be safe with Grandma and Grandpa until I get there.” I closed my eyes to brace against the guilt that tore my heart into shreds. “I miss you, and I love you.”

Before she hung up, she whispered, “Be good.” She said it so quietly I could barely hear her.

After meeting with Tim in the lobby, I went up to the hotel room. Lincoln was asleep on the bed, fully clothed on top of the covers. Her breathing was soft and steady. Her hands were clasped like a child praying. She looked peaceful. I kissed her forehead and pulled the blanket over her shoulder, then I crashed on the couch.

In the morning, she was already awake and sitting cross-legged on the bed when I woke up. “You came back,” she said softly.

I sat up with my elbows resting on my knees and rubbed my face. “I wasn’t the one who took off. You were.”

“I didn’t take off. I just needed a break. How would you feel if you found out that someone you care about is only using you?”

“I’m not using you.”

“So, are you ready to admit that you kissed me because you have feelings for me?”

I exhaled in a stressful way and stood up. “Can we talk about this sometime when it’s not first thing in the morning and we don’t have a million other things to worry about?”

“No.”

I turned and faced her. “What do you want me to say? It’s obvious that I care about you. I wouldn’t be here trying to protect you if I didn’t care about you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me. I have a security team for that.” She stood and crossed the room. “And if I wanted to go around and kiss random guys with no strings attached, I’m sure there would be a line of volunteers.”

That comment stung. Even though I knew she said it to make a point, the thought of her kissing anyone else bothered me. A lot.

“I want more than that,” she continued. “I think I deserve more than that. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said emphatically. Without a doubt, I believed she deserved more. I held her hand and made her sit down on the couch next to me. “Okay, I’m going to be completely honest with you.”

Her eyes widened in a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

I took a deep breath and licked my lips before I said, “I want to be with you. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

She smiled at my declaration, and her fingers tightened around mine.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers tenderly before I continued. “Every single minute of the day I want to kiss you. The fact that I’ve been able to mostly hold myself back is a miracle. You have no idea how hard I’ve had to work to resist you. And yeah, I’ve been making up excuses, but it’s not because I’m scared to be with you. It’s because I’m scared to fall for you and then lose you.”

Her mouth curved into a sympathetic pout. “Why would you lose me?”

“You travel for a living. I have a little sister to take care of. How are we—”

A knock on the door interrupted us. She glanced at me with wide eyes and whispered, “I didn’t call room service.”

“It’s probably Tim.” I slapped my face a few times trying to shift gears in my brain as I walked over to open the door. Aaron and Stan stood shoulder to shoulder wearing all black. “Hey, come on in. Where’s Tim?”

They stepped in the room, and they both nodded at Lincoln. “He’s trying to track down what you requested.”

“Okay. Good. Thanks.” I bent over to whisper to Lincoln, “I want to be with you. We can talk about how we can make that happen after this mess is behind us. Okay?”

She nodded, but her expression made it seem like she wasn’t convinced she should have agreed.

I went to have a shower.

When I returned, Lincoln was still cross-legged on the bed. Aaron and Stan were on the couch. There was another knock at the door. Stan got up and answered it. It was Tim with a six-foot, dark-haired guy in his early twenties. He was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket like me. “Cain, meet Cain. AKA Steve,” Tim said. I shook Steve’s hand, and he discretely handed me a gun that I tucked into the inside pocket of my jacket.

Tim greeted Lincoln, then I moved to sit down beside her on the bed. She shifted to hug her knees into her chest. I gently bumped my shoulder into hers to try to get her to relax. “It’s okay.”

“What is that guy doing here?” she whispered, which she didn’t really need to do because they had turned the TV on and were talking loudly.

“He’s my body double. He’s a security guy Tim has worked with in the past. He’s going to hang out with you and Aaron and Stan while I meet with Marie Josie.”

“Why do you need a body double?”

“We need everyone to think I’m with you to buy me more time.”

“He doesn’t even look like you. Nobody’s going to believe it’s you.”

“What are you talking about?” I pointed at him. “Put a hat and sunglasses on him, and even I won’t know it’s not me.”

She glanced over at him and frowned. “He doesn’t smile right and his legs are shorter than yours.”

I stretched my arm across her shoulders and kissed her cheek to reassure her. “No one’s going to notice.”

“Why can’t Mug and Kaz go talk to her?”

“I don’t even know if I can trust them. I need to talk to her myself to find out what the Noir et Bleu already know and aren’t telling me.”

“And then what?”

“Nothing. I’m just going to talk to her and see what she says. Maybe she doesn’t even know him. I won’t be gone long.”

“He knows we were in the neighborhood yesterday. What if he’s there waiting for you?”

“He’s more likely outside the hotel right now.”

She sat up and brushed my arm off her shoulders. “That makes me feel a lot better, thanks.” Her gaze shifted and she saw the handle of the gun sticking out of the inside pocket of my jacket. “A gun? What are you trying to prove—that you can get yourself thrown in prison or that you can get yourself killed?”

I inhaled and rubbed my eyes. “It’s for my protection. I won’t need to use it.”

“Do you even know how to use it? Obviously you plan on doing more than just talking to her. I don’t understand why you have to be the person who takes care of it. Your stupid vendetta isn’t worth what you’re risking. Huck has already lost her dad and most of her mom. Do you really want her to lose you, too?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“No? Really? You’re going to just handle it like you handle everything else?”

“Yeah.”

“Give me a break.” She shoved my chest. “You’re an idiot, and I’m not hanging out with a stranger so you can go off and get yourself killed.” She unfolded her legs and stood.

I reached for her hand and pulled her back. She lost her balance and landed on my lap. I hugged her to keep her close. “I’m not going to get killed.” I tucked her hair behind her ears and stared at her mouth. Her chest rose with each breath. “Just trust me,” I whispered as I leaned in to kiss her.

She turned her face away. “Cain, don’t. You can’t kiss me and be sweet to make this all right.”

I rested my forehead on her cheek and hugged her tighter. “I don’t want to worry about you while I’m taking care of things. If you don’t want to hang out with him, just stay in the hotel.”

She shook her head sadly.

“Come on. Please just help me with this.”

After a while, she turned so our cheeks were resting against each other. “How much do you care about me?” she whispered.

“A lot.”

“Enough to stay because I asked you to?”

The guys got quiet, and even though the TV was on, it felt like they’d be able to hear what we were talking about. I glanced at them, then reached up to touch my finger to her lips. She stared in my eyes for a long time. I watched her lashes slowly lower and raise as she blinked. Her eyes got watery, and her eyebrows angled together.

“I’m only going to talk to her. Once I find out more about him, I’ll call the police. The whole reason I’m doing it is because I care about you and I want you to be safe.”

“Yeah, well, I want you to be alive.” She abruptly pushed my arms off her, stood, and bent over to zip up her knee high boots. “Let’s go,” she snapped and grabbed Steve by the sleeve. “Bye, Cain. I hope whatever you’re planning on doing is worth losing every single person you care about.” She dragged Steve out into the hall. Tim, Aaron, and Stan followed them.

After a steeling breath, I took my phone out and wrote:
If anything happens to me, always remember how much I love you.
I sent it to Huck and then went down to the lobby and called a cab.

Chapter Twenty-Four

I asked the cab driver to drop me off a block away from Marie Josie Dewalt’s building. I pulled my sweatshirt hood up over my head and walked down the street. The front door was propped open. Two kids were set up on the hallway floor playing cards, but they didn’t even look up. I checked the front panel for her name. It wasn’t listed. 3C was the only apartment that didn’t have the name listed. Instead, it had
Occupant
written next to it. I laughed at how easy it was and climbed the stairs to the third floor. A woman with a dog passed me on her way down the hall. I looked at my boots so she wouldn’t see my face and loitered until the sound of her footsteps disappeared before I knocked on the door to 3C.

As I waited, I slid my hand into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around the handle of the gun. The deadbolt clicked and the door opened just wide enough to see half her face. The security chain drooped between the door and the wall. She closed the door, and I was just about to kick it in when the chain slid. She opened the door wide and waved her arm to invite me in. I frowned and released my grip on the gun, then slid my hand back out of my jacket.

“
Bienvenue
.”

I stepped inside and she closed the door behind me.

“
Veuillez vous asseoir
?” She pointed to the sofa.

I didn’t move, although I understood that she asked me to take a seat. She watched me for a second and then went into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she came back into the living room with a tray that had a teapot and two cups on it.

“Sit, please,” she said with a heavy accent.

“No thanks. I need to talk to you about Martin. Do you know where he is?”

“No.” She sat down and poured both cups full.

She blew on her tea and watched me for a while before taking a sip.

The wood-framed furniture was old, and the European rugs were faded and tattered in the high traffic areas. Oil paintings of river scenes were hung on the wall, and a giant wood cross was prominent above the fireplace. Family pictures in silver frames were arranged on the mantle. One was a picture of Marie Josie with a younger Fireball, before he got the scar. The picture beside that one caught my eye. I walked over and picked it up to examine it more closely.

“Why do you have a picture of my mom?”

“
Elle a toujours été ma préférée
.”

“Favorite what? How did you know her?”

She took another sip of tea before answering, “Martin loved her.”

“What?” I muttered under my breath and stared at the photo.

There was a knock at the door. She glanced at me with a panicked expression and pressed her lips together. A shiver shot up my spine and made the hair on my neck stand on end.

I put the picture frame down, pulled out the gun, and stood up against the wall next to the door. I reached over with my left hand to slide the chain and turned the knob to open the door a crack. The person pushed the door open farther, and a motorcycle boot stepped across the threshold. I pressed the gun to his temple, and he froze just inside the doorway.

He sort of grinned before he said, “You shouldn’t have involved my mother.”

“You shouldn’t have killed my father.”

His eyes darted over to glance at Marie Josie before he said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What do you want?”

I kicked the door shut behind him. My mouth was so dry that when I tried to swallow, it felt like the walls of my throat stuck together. I licked my lips and said, “I want to settle a debt you owe me.” My hands were so wet the sweat marked my jeans when I rubbed my left palm on my leg. I clenched the gun tighter in my right hand so it wouldn’t slip right out of my grasp. “Stand over there.” I waved the end of the gun toward the couch.

He slammed his forearm against the side of my face and drove me into the floor. He punched me across the jaw and used the heel of his hand to crush down on my wrist, trying to make me release the gun. I swung my leg and kicked the bottom of the bookshelf. It teetered forward, then crashed down on his back. He turned to push it off and I was able to wriggle out from under his weight, but he grabbed me by the jacket and chucked me against the wall.

I scrambled to my feet and held the gun in both hands to point it at his head. He was about to stand up, but I said, “Don’t fucking move.”

He remained motionless on his knees and glanced at his mom again. She had moved and was peeking out from the doorway to the kitchen. “Put the gun away before someone gets hurt, kid.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I said, seething.

“You can kill me, but it won’t help you much since there are a shit load of guys out there who already want the hundred thousand dollars offered for your head.”

“I’ve lived this long with a bounty on my head. It makes no difference to me.”

“Yeah, well, now they think you took out two members in Miami.”

“Fuck that. I didn’t do anything. You did it.”

He shrugged and seemed amused. “You’re welcome.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed again and said to his mom, “
Est-ce qu’il vous rappelle quelqu’un
?”

She raised her eyebrow and shook her head as if she didn’t approve of any of it. Then she disappeared into the kitchen.

I lowered the gun to aim it at his chest so I wouldn’t miss.

“Do what you came here to do.” He challenged me. “What are you waiting for?”

My arm tensed, and I put pressure on the trigger. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead when he realized that I was prepared to do it. My heart beat in my ears, and my legs started to shake.

“You’re not stupid enough to do it in front of my mom, are you?”

“Why not? You killed my dad and set my mom on fire in front of my little sister.”

His eyebrows creased together, and his mouth dropped open slightly. “What are you talking about? Nobody else was there.”

He looked at the collection of silver frames as if he was remembering something. He shook his head. “Your mom wasn’t there that night.”

“I’d get her to tell you herself, but her fucking tongue was melted off,” I shouted.

His expression filled with rage and he stood up. “Shut the fuck up. She wasn’t there,” he roared as he lunged toward me and swung his arm at the gun. I squeezed the trigger, and his body blew backward. The sound of the gunshot bounced through the tiny apartment, followed by ringing in my ear. He landed on his ass, then grabbed his shoulder and writhed around. Marie Josie ran into the living room and knelt beside him. She applied pressure on his wound with her hands and screamed at me in French.

I couldn’t understand her, and she was in my way, so I aimed the gun at her and said, “Get out of here.” She crawled and reached for the coffee table to help hoist herself back to her feet. She was still rambling in French. I stepped forward and stood over him. I aimed the gun down at his head and took a deep breath.

He groaned, and his face winced. “I’ll see what I can do to get the contract dropped.”

“I don’t need your help. I need you dead.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to live with yourself?”

“I won’t even give it a second thought, you piece of shit.”

He smiled. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

“You’re the bastard who killed my dad and set my mom on fire in front of my little sister. That’s all that matters.”

“No. That’s not what—”

The door to the apartment burst open. A six-foot-five guy with a red beard and tattoos showing above the collar of his leather jacket rushed me. He nearly broke my arm when he twisted the gun from my grasp. He pointed it at Marie Josie. She quickly disappeared into a bedroom, closing the door behind her. “Get up,” he growled at Dewalt. Mug and Kaz stood in the doorway to the apartment. They pulled Fireball out into the hall. Then the guy with the red beard pointed the gun at my head.