Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
The weather had turned worse overnight and kept going downhill for the next three days.
The chance of her being with her brother for her birthday had passed.
Every day, she and Player checked in with one another, discussing the weather and road conditions as they waited and watched for the next clear day to leave.
Not once did her brother bring up the topic of her and Cree being together.
Player asked about everything except Cree.
He adamantly avoided talking about the man.
When they finally got a break, they packed up and headed out. It was like experiencing an Indian summer with the temps in the mid-to-high forties. With the sun out and clear skies, the roads were dry, making for a safer ride.
At the first gas stop, Cree asked how her hip felt.
She lied, telling him it was fine. There was no way in hell she’d waste a good weather day due to a bruised hip.
Nope. They had miles to catch up on, and daylight was burning.
Nine-and-a-half hours would put them back on track.
Did she think they could do it? Hell yes.
Would they? That was the question of the day.
Even if they didn’t, it could still work out for them to get to Montreal by Christmas.
Tomorrow, the ride was only four hours. With her earbuds in, she listened to the podcast she’d started weeks earlier.
Nothing like a good murder to lift her spirits.
A few hours in, she saw smoke coming from under the bike and felt the engine rev. They coasted to the side of the road, and when Cree shut the bike down, she turned off the podcast. Flipping up the face shield, she listened to him swearing. “Kennedy, hop off but be careful,” he told her.
Checking for a break in the traffic, she climbed off as quickly as she could.
Her hip protested after being on the bike for hours.
She hadn’t even gotten off at gas stations.
She knew the drill and moved as far from the road as she could get.
Cree lay on the roadside, looking at the bike, then he pulled out a piece of long, thick, black rubber. “Belt’s busted.”
Shoving off the ground, Cree pulled out his phone and checked their exact location.
He saw they were an hour from an independent shop.
Calling the shop, he prayed they could lend a hand or at least get them off the road.
If the belt didn’t cause any other damage, he had a spare and could work on it himself.
When the raspy voice of an older man answered, Cree didn’t waste time. “Yeah, do you guys work on Harleys?”
“Most of them, but we’re backed-up for weeks.”
“I’m on the side of the road travelling to Montreal. If you can get me off the road, and if you have a spot where I can work on my sled, I’ll pay your normal bill-out on the work.” It was a shot in the dark.
“If you can do the work, we have a spare lift in the back you can use. Where are you?”
Cree dropped a pin to the guy and waited to see how far away they were. “I can have someone to you in thirty minutes.”
“Sounds good. It’s me and my ol’ lady.”
“The truck will be there ASAP.”
“Name’s Cree.”
“Cree. I’m the owner, Gene. Truck’s heading your way.”
“Thanks, Gene.” Shoving his phone away, he turned to look at Kennedy. “Half an hour.”
The closer they got to Montreal, the more shit they’d encountered.
Cree was starting to think the universe didn’t want them to reach their destination.
Opening one of the saddle bags, he pulled out his bike hammock and Pendleton blanket.
Unrolling the hammock, he spread it out on the small patch of grass on the roadside then placed the blanket on top of it.
“You might as well have a seat. The hammock will insulate the blanket so you won’t get wet,” he told Kennedy, who had been silent since he pulled to the side of the road.
When she sat down, Cree sat on the bike, annoyed with his bad luck.
Glancing up, he checked on Kennedy. She had pulled the blanket around herself. “Sorry about this, katawasisiw.”
She wasn’t upset with him, just the situation. “You didn’t break the belt.”
No, he didn’t. Still, he felt he’d let her down. Tomorrow was her birthday and the only thing she wanted was to be with her brother. Now, there was no chance in hell he’d have her there. “Still, I’m sorry about not getting you to Montreal for your birthday.”
Kennedy stood, bringing the blanket with her. Walking over to where Cree sat on the bike, she moved close enough for him to kiss her. “It’s not like I don’t have another one next year.”
“How’d I get so lucky to have such an understanding ol’ lady?” He gave her a wink.
“I have no idea.” She started to make a joke about being hunted by thugs when a pickup truck pulled up. Cree stood, moving her behind him.
“Cree?” the driver asked, climbing out of the truck.
“That’s me.”
“Gene sent me.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“No problem. Let’s get you loaded up and off the road. Your woman can get in the truck where it’s warm.”
Kennedy picked up the hammock and rolled it up as she walked to the truck. Climbing into the backseat, she relished the warmth coming from the heater. “What a fucking shitshow this has turned out to be,” she said to know one. Pulling out her phone, she sent a message to her brother.
Kennedy: We were on our way to Sault Ste. Marie when we broke a belt. Definitely not making it there by tomorrow.
Player: Are you guys on the side of the road?
Kennedy: Yes but a truck to get us just arrived.
Player: Send me your location when you get off the road. I’ll come get you. That way Cree won’t have to worry about coming into Montreal if he doesn’t have to.
She thought about what her brother said but ignored it.
Kennedy: I’ll talk to Cree and let you know.
Player: If I come get you, we can spend your birthday together.
Kennedy: That’s playing low ball, brother, and not cool.
Player: And?
Kennedy: We can spend it together next year unless Cree tells me otherwise.
The only way she’d let Player come get her was if Cree told her to do so.
Player: Keep me updated on things.
Kennedy: I will.
Putting her phone away, she looked out the back window, watching the guys load the bike and strap it down.
Maybe it won’t take long to fix. With Player offering to come get her all the way from Montreal, it was probably something that took all damn day.
She wouldn’t bitch, though, as Cree felt bad enough.
When the guys got in the truck, the driver told Cree there was a decent motel across the highway from the shop. That answered her question about how long it might take to fix the bike.
“I’m hoping it won’t take me more than a few hours to switch out the belts.”
The driver chuckled. “As long as nothing else goes wrong.”
Cree just nodded, not wanting to put any bad juju out in the universe. They had enough of it already. “Is there a diner around the shop?”
“Down a block. It’s a small town. Everything’s within walking distance from the shop.”
“Sounds convenient,” Kennedy said as she stared out the window. She closed her eyes to rest, and the next thing she knew, Cree was waking her up. “Are we at the shop already?”
He snickered. “Yeah.”
Wiping her mouth, Kennedy knew without a doubt she’d been snoring. Shrugging it off, she hopped out of the truck. Still hanging onto the hammock and blanket, she stood off to the side while the bike was unloaded. When Cree pushed it into the shop, she followed behind.
It was her first time in a motorcycle shop, and it was exactly how she’d imagined one would be.
Calendars with naked women gracing the pages hung on the walls.
Bikes on raised platforms were littered with dirty rags.
The smell of oil and grease hung in the air.
The far wall was lined with racks of tires and shelves full of parts.
A small office was tucked off in the corner, stacked high with much of the same.
There wasn’t a chair in the place for a customer to sit.
“Would you want to go find the diner and grab something to eat?” Cree asked her. Why the fuck not? It was better than standing there for two hours. “I can do that. Would you like me to bring you something back?”
“No, I’m good. The less I stop, the faster we get back on the road.”
“Sounds good.” Handing him the blanket and rolled-up hammock, Kennedy left without even kissing him on the cheek.
“She didn’t look happy,” Gene said from behind Cree.
“Nope, she didn’t.” Turning back to the bike, he wanted to kick the fucker. Instead, he pushed it toward the very back lift that was empty.
Three hours later, the bike was fixed, but there was no sign of Kennedy.
Settling up with the shop owner, Cree pushed the bike outside and left it parked.
Making his way down the sidewalk, he saw that the town was indeed small.
One caution light broke up what appeared to be a four-block stretch of businesses.
A half-block down, he passed a resale store. Glancing in one of the windows, he saw a display of Native American inspired jewellery, and he headed inside to take a quick look. Fifteen minutes later and a hundred dollars poorer, he exited with a birthday present for Kennedy.
He found her in the diner reading a paperback. From the looks of the book, she’d probably picked it up at the retail store. A small bag sat beside her. Shit, what if she bought jewellery while in there? “Hey.” He saw her jump and laughed. “You okay?”
“Yes. You just startled me.”
Cree tipped the book up and saw it was a murder mystery. Shaking his head, he slid into the booth across from her. Waving over the waitress, he ordered a soda and a sandwich. “Bike’s fixed.”
“That’s good news, right?”
Cree snickered at the question as the waitress came back with his drink. “It’s good. The weather is holding, which means as soon as I eat, we’re back on the road.”
Setting the book aside, she bit the bullet. “Player said you might not have time to bring me all the way to Montreal. He said he could come get me.”
Fucking Player. “He can kiss my ass. No man, not even your brother, is taking you anywhere. We . . . you and me . . . we’re a team, right?’
Kennedy smiled, nodding. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she picked up the book and went back to reading.
She glanced up to see Cree resting his head back against the booth with his eyes closed.
Dropping her attention back to the pages, she continued reading about a string of murders in Ireland.