Chapter 28
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
LINDY
The alarm had gone off, and I darted to the bathroom and took a quick shower to get energized. Faded blood stained my inner thighs.
I’d had sex for the first time.
I’d had sex with Wes.
I caught my gaze in the mirror as I wrapped the towel around me and grinned at my reflection. Did I look different? I felt different.
Wes came into the bathroom, a lazy grin on his sleepy face. “Hey.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind, and we both took in our reflection in the foggy mirror. “You good?”
“Very.” I turned around in his arms and gave him a quick kiss. No time for indulging in much more right now.
In the room, I got dressed and pulled my hair back in a ponytail. As I tugged on my jeans, Wes came out of the bathroom naked, and my heart leaped in my chest. He was so fucking beautiful. And he was mine.
I could see him naked all the time from here on out…Who knew how this would go? Where we’d end up? All I knew for sure right this very moment was that I had no regrets. I was truly happy that we had happened. It was everything I’d ever wanted it to be. Rough, gentle, sweet, hungry. So satisfying in ways I’d never known satisfying to be. My heart squeezed as he pulled a long-sleeved thermal shirt over his lean, sculpted torso.
He ran his hands through his wet hair. “You ready, Lind?”
“Ready.” I slid on my boots, and our gazes locked.
“Come here.” He opened his arms, and I launched at him, pressing myself into his chest. “We got this.”
“We got this.” I stroked his back. “Thank you for doing this with me.”
He pressed his lips against mine. Lips that I knew so well now, lips that I craved, lips that laid a trail of fire on my flesh over and over and over. Lips that were home.
Dragging my fingers through his silky wet hair, I hugged him and took in a final inhale, memorizing the warm scent of his throat, the feel of his body. I let go. “Let’s do it.”
Wes tugged a black beanie over his head. “Let’s do it.” We shut off our cell phones and put them in the dresser drawer. In his truck, Wes had two burner phones for us to use.
He unlocked the door, and needles prickled my skin with his careful turn of the bolt. If anyone heard us now…
I blew out a breath.
We exited the room, and I locked the door slowly with my key. I followed Wes down the hall. There were no sounds coming from any of the bedrooms or the lounge, and peeking to make sure no one was there, we darted through the lounge and headed down another hallway toward one of the back doors.
Wes dialed a code on the security pad of the metal door, and it opened. Taking my hand, he led me through, and we were outside. Three thirty-three in the morning and the black sky was full of stars, the air crisp and sweet. Squeezing my hand, Wes led me against the back wall of the building. He knew where the security cameras were, and we were, of course, avoiding them. “Now.” We ran down toward the far fence.
My pulse pounded along with my lungs. Finally, Wes gestured and stopped at the end of the open field in the back of the clubhouse. “Now we climb over. Ready?”
He sprang over the fence in seconds, tossing himself on the other side. I climbed up, my heart hammering in my chest. I got to the top and twisted over, my fingers burning in the metal strips, my muscles throbbing. Taking in a deep breath, I scrambled down. Wes’s hands met my back and he grabbed me.
We ran in the moonlight across the field, as if we were kids running away from home. Suddenly, Wes’s truck took shape in the distance, its gleaming metal visible.
He unlocked the truck, and I climbed in the front seat next to him. As I put my seat belt on, I noticed a black backpack tucked on the floor behind his seat. The truck’s engine rumbled to life, and we took off in the infinite darkness of the dense trees.
My back pressed against the padded seat. “I’m glad you know where you’re going because I feel like we’re lost in a forest.”
“There’s an old hiking trail a couple hundred yards down from here that people stopped using decades ago, and that’s what the club uses to get to the back end of the property if they need to go under the radar to load and unload.”
Finally, we got onto the dirt trail, and the truck jolted and bobbed along the rocky and uneven path, branches and dense greenery scraping and brushing the truck. My fingers dug into the upholstery of the seat, my attention focused on the sharply lit-up terrain in front of us. My shoulders eased. Finally, ahead of us, was blacktop.
“And away we go…” murmured Wes.
I forced my back to relax and settled against the cushioned seat as the truck picked up speed on the smooth road that took us to Route 385 toward Hot Springs. We got onto Highway 18 and headed out of the Black Hills toward Wyoming.
And into the unknown.
We had about an hour more until we got to the location. We listened to the radio, and the new Freefall song came on. We chatted about Beck’s new album coming out soon and the big national tour the band had planned for next spring as if it were just another day and we were out for a long scenic drive. Ha.
We crossed the border into Wyoming. That ease I’d been enjoying quickly evaporated from my body, and my insides screwed up tightly. One step closer.
Wes and I had gone over the location of the Dip on the map a number of times, but now, to be actually in the area? My fingers had become icy-cold, my breath shallower. The prospect of finding my dad was exciting yet filled me with dread at the thought of what state we’d find him.
If we’d find him.
If we’d find him alive.
And the real reason that he had disappeared or had been kidnapped.
My emotions couldn’t keep track of it all.
Wes put his hand on my thigh and squeezed. Could he read my mind?
Within minutes, the navigation system told us we’d arrived. Adrenaline shot through me, pumping furiously into my veins. “Slow down a bit,” I said. “I think this is where we need to veer left.”
“Yep…” He turned, and the truck jerked forward, jostling, coming to a screeching halt that had my heart launching out of my chest. “Fuck!” Wes shouted.
“Wes? What the?—”
Snarling, he slammed his hands on the wheel. “We left our phones behind because I knew they’d probably track us with them, but I didn’t check my truck. Goddammit!” He bolted out of the truck, and I followed him. He slid his hands around the area of his front tire. He went to every tire and did the same. I turned on the flashlight of my burner phone to help him. He slid under the cab of the truck, and I angled the light so he could see. The light caught a reflection of metal on the side of his chest. And a leather strap. Wes was carrying a gun.
His jaw tightened as he clawed at something. “Motherfuck!” He scrambled out from under the truck, a device in his hand, and my pulse banged in my neck at the sight. We were being watched. Wes threw it on the ground and smashed it with his boot.
“You think it was the Jacks?” I asked.
“Jacks, Flames, whoever has your dad? Who the fuck knows?” he bit out. “Let’s go.”
We got back into the truck and took off, our eyes trained ahead.
“There should be a fork in the road coming up,” I said, my voice tight.
“There it is.” Wes turned right on the fork and a long, narrow country road took us to the outskirts of the town of Rock River.
Only one tall, crooked road lamp provided light over the few blocks of stores, a cafe, and a gas station. “All these years and Rock River looks the same as I remember,” I murmured, looking out my window. The adrenaline settled, leaving me supremely alert.
“We follow the road to the next town, but just before the entrance there should be an intersection, and we’ll turn left.”
“Got it.” He knew all this, we’d gone over it so many times, but it kept me sane to say it and he went along with it. Wes kept his eyes on the road, his expression serious. How must he be feeling, knowing that his Dad had probably ridden through here many times doing business with the Blades?
We got to the intersection, a small almost inconsequential fork in a massive field. Wes made the turn onto the dirt road that cut through the field into nowhere. The road became rockier and more bumpy, filled with tall grasses and weeds.
Dimming his lights, he proceeded slowly. “Should be another three miles or so before we see that pathway on the left.” Keeping the speed of the truck under control, both his hands firmly gripped the steering wheel.
“There it is!” I spotted a worn road that had never been tarred over. Wes turned and proceeded even more slowly. “I think this is the beginning of the hill.”
He slowed down even more. “I’ll park somewhere over here and we’ll walk the rest of the way.” Wes swung around a grove of trees and we parked on the other side of them.
We got out, and I stretched to combat the tightness in every muscle. There was a chill in the air, and I pulled my jacket around me. Wes came around, locking the truck doors. “Take this.”
“Your keys?”
“This is my second set.”
“Why?”
“Just in case.”
My chest caved in. “In case of what?”
“If something happens, if we go running, if we get separated. At least I’ll know you’ll be able to get to the truck and use it.”
“I wouldn’t leave without you.”
“Lindy. Take. The. Keys.”
My teeth dragged across my lip as I took the keys and shoved them in my pocket.
We walked into the darkness, the dry grasses crunching underfoot, an owl hooting somewhere close by. Wes had that black backpack slung on his back, and a prickle raced around my neck. “What’s in the backpack?”
“Insurance.” He took my hand and squeezed.
We trekked silently in the dark. The zillion and one stars overhead were bright, but of course, did little to illuminate the landscape. My vision strained to catch anything that was recognizable. We hiked on. A roar thundered in the distance.
A motorcycle.
We froze, my heart pounding loudly in my chest, my stomach churning and clenching. Could it be Raptor? My dad?
“Over here…” Wes pulled me to an overgrowth of bushes and grasses, our heavy breaths filling the air. Squatting down, we waited. The bike got closer and came to a stop, the engine shutting down. Footsteps, muttering. My muscles screamed. Quick marching through the dried grasses, sweeping through the brush. Closer. Closer. My breath burned in my chest as I raised up an inch. I had to see. Had to know.
The figure tracked past. I’d recognize that loping walk anywhere. On the back of his leather jacket was a bright red flame.
I shot up. “Minty?”
“What the fuck!” Wes launched at me, grabbing my jacket and hauling me back.
Minty stopped abruptly in the shadows and swiveled around. “Lindy? That you? What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to see if Dad was here.”
“Who’s this?” he growled, gesturing at Wes.
“Wes is a friend. He’s with the Jacks.”
“You crazy?” He got in my face and turned to Wes. “Take her home, now!”
I got between them. “I never heard from you after I called you. I thought you would’ve come up here sooner to check it out.”
“Been chomping at the bit to come here since you called me, but I couldn’t take off with the way they were watching me. Now that most of the club is gone to Kansas City, I managed it.”
“You and Dad ever tell the Flames about this place?”
Minty only cast a cold glance at Wes.
Wes shook his head. “Dude, I don’t give a shit,”
His jaw tightening, Minty only lifted his chin in reply.
“Didn’t think so,” I said. “You been back here since?”
“Nah.”
“We’re here now, so?—”
“Dammit, Lindy.” Minty gripped my arm.
“Hey!” Wes shoved at him.
“It’s okay, Wes.” I pulled out of Minty’s hold. “Three is better than two or one, don’t you think?” I took Wes’s hand. “Let’s go.”
“Jesus.” Minty let out a ragged breath. “The hill’s not far from here.”
The three of us tracked on, and just as Minty had said, the terrain began to ascend, leading us on a curvy trail. We hiked through the grasses, our breathing loud. Suddenly, a narrow dirt footpath was visible. We were almost there.
The path brought us to a clearing. Just as I remembered it. A small wood cabin, only now it had a window, siding, and a thick roof that seemed durable and solid, not uneven and curvy like warped cardboard the way I remembered.
I squeezed Wes’s hand. “Welcome to the Dip.”