Chapter Fifteen
Keys
I took a left into the parking lot of the run-down motel Sadie Nelson was staying at. For someone possibly on the run, she was leaving a trail behind that even a blind man could follow.
I parked my bike and walked to the office, renting a room right next to hers. I could have knocked on her door, and dragged her back to Diamond Creek, but I didn’t. I wanted to see what her agenda was.
Did she know Simon had been arrested? Did she know he was taking the fall for her? Did she care?
I’d always believed Simon and Sadie were close. That they had a bond many siblings didn’t have. But knowing she ran and let her brother take the heat for what she did pissed me off.
I didn’t think about the real reason I was angry. I didn’t think about the way my body reacted whenever she was near. Like right now, knowing she was on the other side of the thin wall, lying on the bed, maybe touching herself.
FUCK!
I adjusted my dick into a more comfortable position, if that was even possible. Mercedes Nelson had been my downfall. The woman was gorgeous. She had curves for days, thick thighs that could smother a man when they clamped down on your head after she came on your tongue.
Her plump tits were a handful and then some. And between them was another place I would give my life for.
But she’d run.
She was a fucking coward, and cowards didn’t make good old ladies. Sadie had the club behind her. She knew that. She might not be a part of it, but she was a part of the town. The club protected the town and every resident in it.
We could have helped her.
I could have fucking helped her.
If only she’d asked.
Instead, she took matters into her own hands and let her brother take the blame.
The sound of her door closing had me peering through the curtain. I watched her walk to her car. Watched her body lock up when she saw my motorcycle. She looked around the parking lot and then at the building.
She didn’t have any bags with her, so I knew she wasn’t leaving again. I chose not to follow her when she backed out of the space, and once I was sure she was gone, I let myself into her room.
Everything was tidy, the bed hastily made. I stepped into the bathroom and saw her toiletries lined up perfectly along the sink. She’d be back.
Searching the room, I looked for anything that might give me a clue what her plan was. There was nothing. It was as though she were wandering around without direction.
“What are you doing, Sadie?” I asked out loud. “Where are you going?”
My eyes scanned the room; there was nothing here that gave her away. The garbage can held fast-food wrappers. Her suitcase sat on the floor, clothes spilling out instead of being put away.
This wasn’t a woman on vacation; it was a woman on the run. But if she was on the run, why wasn’t she hiding? Why wasn’t she trying harder to cover her tracks?
I dug through her suitcase, looking for clues. There was nothing. No journal that spoke of evil intentions. Not a hint of calculation in her demeanor. Her hesitation in seeing my bike was the only sign that something was amiss.
She was a good actress; I’d give her that.
When I joined the Silver Shadows, Sadie was already involved with Alan. It didn’t stop me from getting a haircut every six weeks like clockwork. It certainly didn’t stop me from flirting with her every time I stepped into the salon.
The way she blushed when I whispered soft enough that no one else heard me, all the things I wanted to do to her. She rebuffed my advances at every turn. To this day, I knew she didn’t take me seriously.
She made comments about her size and how girls like her didn’t get guys like me.
I was no fucking prize.
A kid who grew up on the streets breaking into places so I could eat. No parents, no siblings. At least none that I knew of. Who knows what happened to my parents when they fucked off. Maybe they met other people, fell in love, and started a family.
Or maybe they were dead in a crack house somewhere.
I knew if I asked, Nav would track them down. But as long as I didn’t know the truth, I could believe what I wanted. That they were two shitty, selfish people who didn’t want to be parents.
I ran a hand over my face and let my eyes travel around the room again, looking for something, anything, that would tell me Sadie wasn’t the selfish bitch I now believed she was.
Except there was nothing.
Not a single, solitary, redeeming item... not a fucking clue that would tell me she didn’t shove her brother under the bus.
I pulled out my phone and called Matlock.
“I found her,” I said when he answered.
“Where the fuck is she?”
“Jefferson,” I replied as I dug through her suitcase one more time.
“She’s in Missouri?” Matlock asked.
“Jefferson, Nebraska.”
“She’s still in fucking Nebraska? It’s been three fucking days; she should be on the East Coast by now.”
“Something ain’t right. She’s not hiding. I’ve been watching her for two days and she’s using her cards, leaving a trail anyone could follow,” I explained as I lifted a pair of red lace panties and brought them to my nose.
“I want her back here. I don’t care if you have to tie her to the back of your fucking bike. I want her home tomorrow!”
The call cut out, and I shook my head. I wouldn’t put her on my bike. Not now. Not after she bolted, leaving her brother to pick up the pieces.
I stared at the scrap of lace in my hand. I stuck it in the pocket of my cut and left Sadie’s room. I sat by the window in my room and waited for her to return.
Her car pulled in the lot, and I smiled as she parked six spaces away from my bike. Baby, if you think that will keep me away from you, you’re not as smart as I thought.
Sadie grabbed her purse and her takeout bags and walked to her door. As soon as she neared, I stepped away from the window so she wouldn’t see me, but she still paused and stared at the door to my room.
My breath held in my lungs while I waited to see if she would run. I couldn’t be sure she recognized my bike. The only time I spent with her was in the salon. It was my own inflated ego that let me believe she watched out the front window when I left.
My own desire to be seen that told me her pussy dripped as she watched me swing my leg over the Harley that was parked outside her hotel room.
The door finally opened and then closed with a soft thud. I moved to the wall and pressed my ear against the faded wallpaper, listening for the sound of her movements.
She turned the television on; the sound filled the room with a murmur I couldn’t decipher. I pressed my forehead against the wall and asked the stillness in my room, “Why did you run, Sadie? Why did you leave your brother hanging for what you did?”
She didn’t answer. I knew she wouldn’t, not until I stood in front of her and asked her the same questions.
Maybe not even then.
But I had to try.
It was my job to find the truth.
To find the answers no one else knew.
I waited until I knew she had finished her food, then I walked outside and stood in front of her door with my hands braced on the frame. My head hung down between my arms, and for the second time in my life, I didn’t want to know the truth.
They said the truth will set you free, but I didn’t want to be free from my obsession with Sadie Nelson. I didn’t want to know who she really was below the surface. I didn’t want my dreams of the perfect woman to be shattered into millions of pieces I couldn’t glue back together.
I took a deep breath and tapped on the door.
As I waited for her to answer, I wondered if she knew it was me. Was she afraid of who might be on the other side of her door? Was she afraid of me?
I knocked again, and still no answer. I tried the doorknob and smiled when it didn’t turn. At least she was acting smart about her safety. Not that this plywood door would keep anyone out.
It didn’t keep me out earlier.
And it wouldn’t keep me out now.
I quickly picked the lock, and the door swung open. An empty room and the sound of running water greeted me. The bathroom door was slightly open, and I could see her reflection in the mirror.
She was in the shower, naked before my eyes.
I stared at her image. My eyes glued to her soap-lathered hands as she ran them over her body. She was oblivious to the danger around her. Self-awareness was something Sadie Nelson didn’t have.
She couldn’t sense me, and it bothered me more than I realized. I wanted her to feel my presence in the room. Wanted her to know my eyes were focused on only her.
I closed the door quietly and sat in the chair in the corner, obscuring my view. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life, tearing my eyes off her body.
I heard the water shut off, the shower door open, and then close. My arms lay on my thighs, hands clasped together between my knees as I closed my eyes and imagined her drying off. Fantasized that I was the towel soaking up the droplets of water that ran over her skin.
I looked up when I heard her sharp gasp.
I could have died right then and been satisfied with the life I’d lived, because Mercedes Nelson was standing in the bathroom doorway, her body completely uncovered aside from the small towel she held in front of her.
A towel that barely hid her tits.
A towel that wasn’t quite long enough to hide her pussy.
I bit my lip; my mouth was as dry as the Sahara as I tried to speak, but my brain short-circuited the moment my eyes fell on her.
“Billy, what are you doing here?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
I licked my lips and stood. Slowly, I stalked across the room like a tiger after its prey.
Forgetting, in that moment, why I was there.
Forgetting that her long-time boyfriend had died only a few days ago, likely by her hand.
Forgetting that she was probably terrified as I towered over her.
Her eyes told me she was too scared to move. She swallowed, and my hand went to her throat as I gently ran a finger down the side of her neck and across her chest, curling it around the edge of the towel and pulling it free.
Her hands immediately covered her tits. Her soft, plump belly hid her pussy from me at this angle as I looked down at her. She wasn’t tall. Maybe five foot four or five. Tiny compared to my six-foot-two frame. The top of her head barely reached my shoulders.
Her eyes were wide with fear and something I dared not hope for. I slowly leaned down, keeping my eyes focused on her soft lips.
That was when I saw it.
The cut at the corner of her lower lip. My eyes roamed over her now, not in desire but in assessment. Previously blocked by my hunger, every mark was now visible from my anger.
The bruise on her chin.
The swollen eyelid.
The fingerprints on her upper arms.
“He will never fucking touch you again,” I growled.
“I know,” she whispered, as her gaze lowered to the floor. “I killed him.”