Chapter 27
27
Robyn
“ K yra’s sound asleep,” Ellie says as she comes downstairs to find me pacing her living room, restless, unable to sit still. “Do you want me to wake her up and get her some breakfast? You should eat too.”
“No, let her sleep some more. Yesterday was plain awful. She didn’t see much, but she heard the ruckus,” I say.
“Yeah, she was so agitated last night, I wasn’t sure we’d even get her to fall asleep in the first place.”
I keep looking outside, finding odd comfort in the presence of four riders on Harleys parked in Ellie’s driveway. The sound of twin-V engines rumbling by also soothes me because I know we’re not alone in this. I know the Riders are looking after us, even with Diesel, Knox, and Jagger stuck in a jail cell.
“Samson hasn’t answered any of my texts,” I mutter, checking my phone again.
“Robyn, he’s busy. But you know he’ll text as soon as he gets a chance. He always calls if there’s something important,” she says, trying to reassure me.
“I know.” Tears prick my eyes.
“Come on, sit down for a minute.” Ellie comes over and gently guides me to the sofa. The news is rolling on the TV mounted above her fireplace, but I haven’t been paying attention. My mind’s a mess, my thoughts jumbled, and my morning sickness getting worse on account of stress. “Have you eaten anything?”
I shake my head slowly. “No.”
“You need to eat. Coffee?”
“Tea?”
“Okay, just sit down. I’ll get you some tea and maybe a sandwich? I’ve got a couple from my meal prep boxes. I’m happy to share.”
I give her a tired look. “I’m queasy, Ellie. I doubt I can keep any food down.”
“A slice of toast at least?”
“I can try.”
I sound downright defeated. Then again, I’m in a terrible spot. The clubhouse isn’t safe anymore, and I know it’s killing the guys. Ellie’s place is fine for now, but I doubt there’s enough Rider manpower to keep Calvin and Marlo from getting to me if they really want to.
I keep waiting for my worst nightmare to come true. I’ve already seen a preview of it yesterday when the guys were taken away in cuffs.
Ellie’s voice echoes from the kitchen. She’s on the phone. “…Spalding’s investigation...”
I hear a bit of what she’s saying, and my interest is suddenly piqued. Without thinking, I get up from the sofa and tiptoe down the hallway toward the kitchen door. I hold my breath and keep out of sight, listening.
“I don’t really care, Jack. He wasn’t supposed to do that… Well, find out. I’ve got my own thing going… Yeah, sanctioned accordingly. So who gave that asshole the green light to do it?”
Silence.
Footsteps.
Oh, shit.
I move away from the door and run back into the living room.
“Are you okay, Robyn?” Ellie calls out.
“Yeah, just sitting here,” I say aloud, my mind reeling.
“I’ll be with you in a sec. I’m on the phone with my uncle from Detroit, family drama.”
“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere,” I reply.
It’s the truth. I’m not going anywhere. A shitstorm is unraveling across Redwood, and I’m trying not to get dirty. My daughter deserves safety and so does my unborn child. My heart aches as I think about Diesel, Jagger, and Knox. I worry about them. I want to see them again.
And what the hell was Ellie talking about?
My phone pings. A text from Samson.
Meeting with club lawyer at Nyla’s Diner in 1hr. Can you come?
I immediately text back with shaky fingers. Y eah .
Take Ellie’s car, not yours. Keep a low profile .
Ellie returns to the living room with a steaming mug and a single slice of toast on a plate for me. “Here we go. You need to keep your strength up, girl.”
“Thank you; you’re too kind, Ellie,” I say and put the phone down, taking the tea and plate instead. To my relief, I manage to eat the whole slice, washing it down with a lemony jasmine tea. I can’t shake the thought that something else is going on, something I can’t see. What exactly was she talking about on the phone?
“Feel a little better at least? Still queasy?” she asks.
“Not as bad as earlier,” I say. “Thank you so much for everything.”
“All I did was put the kettle on and toast a slice of bread.”
“You said you’ve got family drama going on in Detroit?” I ask, carefully analyzing her expression.
Her gaze drops for a moment, hands clasped atop her knees. She nods slowly. “Yeah. Nothing pleasant or worthy of sharing; trust me. Just someone getting involved in something they shouldn’t. But we’ll get it straightened out. We always do.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Families can be complicated.”
I’m not buying her explanation. I realize now that I actually know very little about Ellie’s past, about her life and her family in Detroit. She knows more about me, in fact. I’m tempted to delve into that for a little while longer, but I’ve got less than an hour to get to the diner, so I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Ellie, I need your help.”
“Anything I can do to help, Robyn, I’m here. You know that.”
A half hour later, I meet Samson and James Faraday at the diner. It’s a cozy atmosphere and rather crowded, but I recognize almost everyone having breakfast here. They’re all townies, decent, hardworking folks, no one with Hughes affiliations.
Outside, Paulie and Jacob sit on their bikes along with a couple of more prospects from Samson’s side, watching the place. Ellie’s keeping an eye on Kyra with two more club members posted at her house. So far, so good.
“Nobody followed us,” I tell Samson as I take a seat at their table. “I took Ellie’s car like you suggested.”
“Smart girl,” he says.
The lawyer gives me a pleasant but emotionless smile. “Robyn, It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard some great things about you.”
“Likewise, Mr. Faraday. The guys speak very highly of you.”
“James, please,” he says.
I nod politely.
“Arraignment is in two hours,” Faraday says. “It was supposed to be earlier, but the judge recused himself.”
“What? Why?” I ask.
“Personal issues pertaining to the case,” he replies. “Something I wasn’t privy to. And I almost had him in the bag too. We’re going in blind, but I did manage to get the sheriff on board with an off-the-record statement for the incoming judge to consider.”
“Okay, and what will happen next?” I ask.
“I’ll need your full statement regarding the clubhouse search performed by the DEA. A full witness statement, that is. We’re painting them in an unflattering light for obvious reasons. I’ll be pulling out all the stops to make sure the guys get out of this unscathed.”
“Yeah, I can do that. Gladly. It was pretty traumatic, to be honest.”
Samson smiles softly. “I hope Kyra’s doing better.”
“She slept more than usual. She was asking about you,” I say. “She’s also worried the Feds might come to Ellie’s place.”
“Would you be willing to let me get a statement from your daughter as well?” Faraday inquires. “I don’t want her on the stand, but it will provide emotional impact.”
“Damn, you are going for their throats, aren’t you?”
Faraday laughs lightly. “It’s what makes me good at my job. Tell me, Robyn, have you ever seen any of the Rogue Riders dealing or heard them talking about dealing drugs?”
“No, never. Why would you even ask me that?”
“Because I have to. It’s my job to make sure I know everything, even what my own clients won’t tell me,” he says.
“I know with unshakeable certainty that Jag, Diesel, and Knox keep a clean MC. I’m sure Samson can confirm the legitimacy of all of their businesses as well. Personally, I will swear on the Bible, or on any other book for that matter, that I have never seen nor heard any mention of drugs anywhere within or around the Rogue Riders MC.”
He pauses to clear his throat. “I’ll still do a deep dive into the members’ records, however,” Faraday says. “If the drugs were indeed planted, then it was most probably by a Rider. Whether they were dealing it themselves or they were coerced or bribed to plant the heroin in the clubhouse basement, what counts at the end of the day is that it was an inside job. The sooner we find the culprit, the better. I’ve looped Sheriff Bentley in on this too.”
Samson nods in agreement. “I’ve got five guys combing through the footage as we speak. We’ll find that treacherous son of a bitch sooner or later.”
“Find him, but don’t touch him. Let the lawmen take him into custody,” Faraday warns him. “We need him to flip for a good deal with the DA. He’ll be facing at least one count of obstruction of justice for sure.”
Commotion outside the diner catches my attention.
“GUN!” one of the Riders shouts.
I see him waving at us just as a black van drives by with the side door open. They stop, and I hear POP-POP-POP as bullets fly through the window.
I drop to the side and end up on the floor, hazy and stunned as the horror unfolds. I hear a grunt and look to my left. Faraday managed to take cover behind the booth. Samson grabs me and helps me run.
“Come on, we need to get you out of here,” he snarls.
Screams erupt throughout the diner, wood splinters fly, then more bullets. It’s a fucking nightmare. I can only let Samson guide me across the diner as the men in the van keep firing at us.
“Take my keys,” Samson says as we slip through a narrow corridor.
We run past the kitchen and the bathrooms as some of the staff come out in confusion.
“Get back!” he shouts at them. “Call the police!”
We burst through the back door and damn near fall into the alley. I stumble but manage to hold on to Samson long enough to regain my balance.
“Oh, my God,” I gasp, my heart racing. I can barely breathe.
“You’re okay,” he says, breathing heavily and wincing as he hurriedly checks me from head to toe before he gives me the car keys. “Take them,” Samson insists. “Take them. Go! Get out of here, Robyn, it’s not safe.”
“Yeah, but—” I pause and glance down.
Blood blossoms like a devastating rose over his shoulder, seeping through his plaid shirt.
“Samson, you’re hit!”
“I’ll be fine. There’s an ambulance coming by now for sure. Get out of here, Robyn, please.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine. Go, Robyn! Go now!”
He pushes me away for good measure, and every instinct I have is screaming at me to leave, yet I hesitate for another second until popping sounds reach us from the front of the building. Whoever was shooting at us is still there, still wreaking havoc. I have no choice, so I give Samson a nod and jump into his dark brown sedan. I know this car; it’s old and beat up, but it’ll take me anywhere I need to go.
Unnoticed.
Samson uses it when he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself.
I drive down the alleyway, hands gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white. I’m shaking and trying to catch my breath, heat bursting through me as sweat drips down my forehead. The smell of tobacco and sweat hits me along with a strong undercurrent of gasoline and smoke. It makes me want to vomit, but I keep it together.
Swerving left and right through a network of alleys and side streets, I manage to get away from the danger while sirens wail loudly behind me. This just went from bad to worse.
It takes a good few minutes for me to catch my breath and to see clearly. It’s a miracle I didn’t crash into anything. I need to get home. I need to get Kyra out of here and somewhere safe. I’m not sure where safe is, but I have to do something, anything. My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket as I stop at a red light. It’s a message from Ellie.
Heard there was a shooting in town. Where are you? Are you okay ?
I send a quick voice message. “I’m okay, but I’ll drive out of town and come around on the belt road to get back to you. Please get Kyra ready. Just grab the go bag in your guest room. I need to leave town for a few days.”
Ellie responds with a voice message of her own. “Oh, God, I can’t believe this. Just get back here first. The Riders are still outside watching the place. It’s been quiet and safe here. Drive safely, please.”
I put the phone back in my jacket and put the car into drive.
Once I’m out on the belt road, I feel a sense of relief. I’ve put as much distance between myself and the danger as possible, but now I’m worried about everybody else: the people at the diner, the prospects who were watching the place, Mr. Faraday, and Samson… He’s injured. God, I hope the ambulance got to him on time.
The roar of an engine approaching catches my attention.
“Oh, shit,” I gasp as I spot a black SUV coming on fast from behind.
BANG!
The SUV crashes into the left rear side of the car, damn near knocking me off the road. I hold on to the wheel for dear life, steering away from scarce put potentially deadly oncoming traffic. The SUV driver is intent on trying again. I put the pedal to the metal, the sedan trembling as it struggles to get away from the attack.
My blood runs cold through my veins.
I cry out, scared senseless when he hits me again, this time smack in the center.
The car shakes and shudders.
“Fuck,” I gasp as I see the SUV coming in for a third strike.
But relief washes over me as I also see a pack of motorcycles racing toward us from the opposite lane: Harleys, a dozen of them, big hogs with sterling steel bars and furious engines, each with big riders.
I glance in the rearview mirror. “Thank God.”
The SUV pulls away then comes to a full stop and does a U-turn, rushing to flee from the oncoming bikers. I pull over to the side of the road, briefly wondering if this rickety old sedan can still make it all the way back to Ellie’s house.
Three of the riders stop next to me while the others go after my attacker.
“Robyn!” one of the three shouts as he jumps off his bike.
Only now do I see him clearly. My heart leaps. “Knox? Oh, my gosh!” I cry out and throw myself in his arms, crying like a little girl.
“I thought we might lose you there for a second,” he says, gently holding me, giving me a few moments to just exhale and sob and let the terror flush out of my system.
Diesel and Jagger join him, each resting a hand on my shoulders.
“You’re out,” I say, finally looking up at them. “But your lawyer—”
“Faraday’s assistant took advantage of an opening in the new judge’s calendar for our arraignment hearing. He asked us if we wanted to wait another hour for Faraday, but we said, ‘Fuck it, let’s do this now,’” Knox says. “The guy had everything he needed to make a compelling argument as to why we should be given bail.”
“We paid the whole thing and here we are,” Jagger adds, giving me a worried look. “We were on our way into town when the calls came in about the shooting.”
“How’d you know where to find me?” I ask, tears still pricking my eyes.
Diesel smiles broadly. “Samson told us he gave you his car and told you to get out of there. We figured you would hit the belt road in order to get around and reach Ellie’s without picking up a tail. You’re a smart woman, Robyn. The belt road was the safest bet.”
“Or so I thought,” I scoff. “That maniac almost killed me back there.”
“We considered that possibility too,” Knox says, “which is why we were on our way to escort you to Ellie’s.”
“I cannot thank you enough.” I hug him, then Jagger, then Diesel, kissing each for good measure. “What’s next?”
The guys exchange concerned glances before they look at me.
“We put together a plan,” Jagger says. “It isn’t the best, but it’s the best out of the worst, given recent developments.”
I don’t like the sound of that.