Chapter 21
KNOX
Riding with my club, leading at the front, is one of the greatest pleasures in my life. So many people think motorcycle club life is about violence and illegal shit.
And sure, it has those elements to it.
But the best part?
Being a part of something. Being out on the road. Feeling the air hit your face and watching the miles of road spread out in front of you.
Which is why it’s a giant warning light that I’m riding on autopilot and don’t remember the last thirty minutes on the bike, because all I can think about is Maren Caldwell.
Have I thought about the way her pussy felt when I took it a second, third, and fourth time? The semi-hard-on I’m sporting would call me a liar if I said anything other than yes.
But, if I’m honest, I’ve thought more about the way she looked on the sofa while we watched the movie.
Studying her profile, the way she looked in my shirt when she tucked her feet up beneath her and rested her elbow on the back of her sofa to explain to me why the actor was the perfect protagonist. The way she looked at the pretty little hotel on the water where the heroine was staying and said how amazing it would be to go there and paint for a week.
Her smile when I said something funny, or the way she paid attention to the things I said with every part of her being.
Never once did I see a cellphone in her hands; meanwhile, I popped outside a few times just in case of emergencies. There were messages. Sometimes with important logistics, others, ripping on Havoc because one of the club girls said he was so drunk, he lasted eleven seconds.
Because I was feeling close to her, I told her and she laughed.
Wait, the thing about club girls is actually true?
Her nose had wrinkled across the bridge of it, then, she’d said, “Men are disgusting sometimes.”
I agreed. We are.
And even though the rest of the club and I are headed to meet up with the man himself and Vandal, I still can’t stop thinking about the way Maren stepped up onto her toes to kiss me goodbye.
Not sure anyone in my whole life has told me to stay safe like they meant it.
But Maren did.
She cupped my cheeks, made sure we were looking each other square in the eyes, and made me promise I’d be careful.
So, if I want to obey, maybe I should focus on what I’m about to do, then, instead of thinking about the way she looked on her knees for me.
The motel crouched along the highway looks like it was forgotten about by the chain it belongs to at some point in the nineties.
There’s a buzzing, neon vacancy sign flickering on and off above the office window.
The cream walls and green door paint have both seen better days, with chunks and chips all over the place, and weeds forcing themselves between the cracks in the concrete.
And two rusted trucks, one sitting on bricks, are the only things in the potholed parking lot besides the two bikes that belong to Havoc and Vandal.
I kill the engine to my bike as the rest of the club pull up and park alongside me. The air already feels moist, a word I despise almost as much as the feel of humidity in the air.
Havoc steps forward. When I finally got to the clubhouse this morning, I sent my brothers out in pairs to go farther afield to find out where the two men were staying or had stayed.
If anyone noticed I was in later than usual, they didn’t say anything.
And my mood was definitely better. Coming four times in one night was fun. But the way I was able to relax afterwards—in safety, where no one knew where I was—had been an unexpected bonus.
I slept like a log in the boathouse apartment, once more, Maren wrapped in my arms, and I felt like a million bucks. My entire system felt like it had been reset.
“Room nine,” Havoc says, waving a key in his hand.
There’s a bandana covering his Viking braids.
“Desk clerk says they’ve been here for two nights.
Arrived just before the storm hit. They’re paying cash.
Day to day, so far. So, she doesn’t know if they’re still here, and her cleaning girl doesn’t come around until two. ”
“So much for guest confidentiality,” Lock says.
Vandal grins. “Havoc leaned in real close and smiled at her. I swear I heard the sound of her panties voluntarily sliding down her thighs.”
Havoc shrugs. “Might go back and help her look for them before I leave. Change of scenery and all that.”
North snatches the keycard out of his hand. “At least she won’t get into trouble if you do.”
“Why’s that?” Havoc asks.
“Her smoke break is likely ten minutes,” North says with a grin. “And you only last eleven seconds.”
Everyone laughs as Havoc shakes his head. “I fucking hate you all.”
The walkway outside the rooms is cracked and narrow, the uneven concrete stained with old cigarette burns and fuck knows what else.
I take the keycard from North, and I don’t bother knocking. Neither of those trucks in the lot match the one I saw them riding. So, they’re either long gone or out for the day. Havoc and Vandal raise their weapons in precaution, but I unlock the door and shove it inward with a loud bang.
“Housekeeping,” Ridge calls out, and everyone chuckles at that.
The room smells stale, like sweat, and motel soap, and warm beer. The two beds are unmade, and there’s an open container of Chinese food gone cold. A couple of flies hover over it like it’s a feast.
Ridge checks out the shower. “Empty, but they’ve not been gone too long. Still wet in there.”
“‘Bout forty minutes since we got here and called you guys to come,” Vandal says. “They weren’t here then.”
“Miss by a minute, miss by a mile,” North mutters.
“Unless you’re Havoc, and then you can miss by eleven seconds,” Sunny says.
Vandal shoulder checks Havoc.
“For fuck’s sake,” Havoc mutters. “Are you gonna be like this all day? I’d had at least twenty drinks. Wonder my cock was even hard, let alone functioned.”
“Not every ejaculation needs to count,” Reaper says. “Right, Prez?”
I think about how many times I came last night, and each time I wondered, once more, what it would feel like to fuck Maren without a condom.
How it would feel to know my cum was knocking her up.
“Don’t drag me into this. I don’t want to know where Havoc’s cum goes.
Check the room before they come back. Don’t want to scare ‘em. In fact, Sunny and Ridge. Can the two of you split out of here, north and south? Call it in if you see them coming.”
“On it,” they say in unison and leave.
“The rest of you. We’re looking for proof of who they are. Anything that might give us a lead.”
Lock grabs the trash can and tips it out on the floor to separate anything paper from the general trash that was in there.
I take the duffle bag on the floor and poke around.
What I find is a surprise. Contrary to the laid-back jeans and plaid vibe they were giving, in the bag are designer clothes.
Black suit pants. A nice shirt. The rest are a few T-shirts and ratty underwear.
Even the socks, though bundled, have dirty soles.
“How can people not know how to launder clothes?”
“I ask myself the same question about the use of bleach,” Reaper says.
“Jesus,” North says. “It’s like living with Mom and Dad, listening to you two.”
Reaper flips him the bird. “Do you know how many deaths are related to hygiene-related causes?”
“No clue,” North says. “And I really don’t want to know.”
“I got some receipts,” Lock says. “Partial credit card numbers, but it seems there’s a diner they’ve taken a liking to.” He pulls out his phone and searches for its location. “Looks like it’s just a few more minutes north of here.”
Havoc pulls a wrinkled envelope out of the second duffle bag. “There’s a name and address typed across the front of this.” He tugs the paper from the envelope he’s holding. “Looks like this guy is a little behind on the rent. Dean Mercer.”
“There’s too much here for them to leave behind,” I say. “Reaper, I want you and Lock to keep watch from outside. I’ll send a couple of prospects to back you up. Call as soon as they return, but don’t engage unless they try to leave permanently.”
“Where are you going, Prez?” Reaper asks.
“To the diner. See if they’re there. If they are, we’ll deal with them. If not, we can grab some food.”
Reaper huffs. “So, we get to miss lunch.”
Havoc grins. “I’ll get you some takeout. Message what you want.”
It only takes a couple of minutes to recall Sunny and Ridge and ride to the diner with them. It sits in a small but popular strip mall. There’s the usual: a gas station, laundromat, liquor store, and the diner. But there’s also a craft store and a clothing store geared towards workmen.
We park the bikes, and I can see the owner of the diner isn’t thrilled about our arrival. I get nervous glances from an older woman holding a coffee pot while wearing a pale blue dress and white apron.
“We’re not here to cause any trouble,” I say. Although, the truth is anything but. If those two men are in here, I’m gonna take ‘em outside and gut them for…shit, I was about to say for hurting Maren. But what I need to gut them for is for information.
“Look around,” I encourage the others, but I’m not convinced they’re here given there’s no sign of their truck in the busy parking lot.
It’s not that big a place, and when it becomes apparent they aren’t in here, we sit. Once we do, we get plenty of hot coffee and the menus.
“Fuck,” I mutter when the server walks away. “Was hoping they’d be here.”
Sunny fiddles with a sugar packet. “Maybe they’ll come in while we’re eating.”
I shake my head. “They’ll see the bikes outside and split.”
“We could go buy a couple of small cameras,” North says. “Hook ‘em up in their motel room and out front, here, somewhere. We’d at least get notification when they were back.”
“That’s a solid plan,” I say. “Make it happen.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Havoc blow the wrapper off his straw straight into Vandal’s coffee. I swear to God, those two act like they’re still in high school.
When it comes, the food is good. I left Maren’s and rode home to change and quickly eat some toast, but I’m fucking starved. I ordered a full breakfast, then added a third egg and extra bacon. The portion doesn’t disappoint, and I can see why those two assholes love the place so much.
By the time I’m done, I’m completely stuffed full of food.
I feel better because, while we haven’t found them yet, we have a lead on Dean Mercer and whoever his copilot is.
Then, as if I summoned her, Maren walks out of the craft shop. She’s wearing a dress. A sundress with a denim jacket over it. Her skin looks as shiny and soft as I know it feels. And on her feet are little sandals.
The sun catches her hair, setting fire to the auburn in it.
I force myself to look back down at my empty plate. I guess I missed her truck because I was too busy looking for the one the men drove.
“Look at the tits on that,” a guy in the booth next to us says.
I look where he’s looking, and sure enough, he’s staring at Maren as she pops the flatbed of her truck and shoves the canvases she’s manhandling into the back.
His friend looks over his shoulder to glance out the window. “Nah. They’re not big enough to fuck.”
Takes everything I am not to get up and slam their faces into their dishes. But then, there’d be questions asked. And security camera footage.
Plus, it’s only words. Maren will be in her truck and away soon.
“She looks like the type. Those are the easiest,” the first guy says.
“Was your food okay, Prez?” Vandal asks from his booth.
“Yeah. Fine.” I draw my attention from the rude pervs and Maren. “Can see why they keep coming back here.”
But the mouthy one keeps talking. “I bet you a hundred bucks I could fuck her before midnight.”
I look over to the two men as the other offers the first his hand. “Deal.”
The guy throws his napkin down on the table, checks his teeth in the blade of his knife, and steps out of the booth.
Do not get involved, Knox.
Mentally, I say the words, but I know they are utterly meaningless as I see the guy tug on the belt of his jeans and stride outside.
I know I can take the guy in a fight. But maybe it will help me get over whatever the fuck this is between me and her if I see Maren respond to the approach of another man.
But I see the confusion on her face when he calls out to her. I see the way she anxiously looks around the parking lot to see if there is anyone else close by.
Nervously, she fiddles with her keys.
Then, he lifts his hand to touch the end of her hair. I see the way she steps back from him and nearly trips over one of the bags she put on the ground and how she flinches when he grabs her arm to steady her.
And then, I’m on my feet, striding to the door, which I slam open.
“Where you going, Prez?” Ridge shouts behind me.
If I had any doubts about my decision to move, they’re gone when I see the look of, first, surprise, then, relief on Maren’s face when she sees me.
“Knox.” The word is filled with gratitude.
“Hey. Who the hell are—?”
My fist connects with his gut before he has a chance to finish his sentence.
The guy doubles over as I look to Maren. “You okay, sweetheart?”
She moves as if to curl into me in relief. But I see my men moving through the lot toward me, so I grip her biceps to hold her at a distance.
The disappointment and confusion in her face probably hurts me more than the fist to the gut I just delivered.
“I was just talking to her,” the guy says.
“I told him I wasn’t interested,” Maren says, slipping out of my hold to wrap her denim jacket tightly around herself. “But I’m fine.”
“Prez,” Havoc asks. “Why are we helping Caldwell’s daughter?”
I grab the guy by the throat and force him to stand. “Because I heard this fuck bet his friend a hundred bucks that he’d fuck Maren before midnight. And given he wasn’t taking no for an answer, I decided to be the no.”
“Should have just let him have her,” North says. “Let’s see how Caldwell feels when shit hits his own blood.”
Maren balks at that. But I can’t stand up for her. Not here. Not now.
The look in Maren’s eyes is going to haunt me tonight, I know it. She reaches for the last of her bags and throws them into the car.
“Thank you,” she says curtly.
“We’ll make sure this piece of shit doesn’t follow you out of here,” I say.
Maren looks at the ground for a second, and I miss those blue eyes of hers. “That feels like the bare minimum,” she pointedly throws at me, before she hurries into her truck.
I shove the guy into Vandal’s hands. “Go teach him a lesson in manners.”
But instead of watching what Vandal does with the asshole, I keep an eye on the back of Maren’s truck until I can no longer see it.