Chapter Six
Whiskey
Kaylee flinches.
I slowly raise both my hands as directed. “Twila.”
“Don’t.”
“Need you to lower the gun.”
“I said hands up.”
“They’re up.”
“Step away from the girl.”
“Ain’t doing that.”
Her trigger finger stays indexed along the frame, but the knuckles of her support hand whiten.
“Whiskey.”
“Deputy.”
“Step away from her.”
“She can barely stay on the bike.”
“I can see that.”
“Then use your damn eyes.”
“I am.”
Those blue-gray eyes drop to the blood on my hand, then to the torn shirt wrapped around Kaylee and the cut folded over my arm.
Her expression hardens.
Shit.
I know exactly what this looks like.
“Kaylee Quill?” Twila calls.
Kaylee doesn’t answer.
“Kaylee, I’m Deputy Dix. I need you to tell me if you’re hurt.”
Kaylee shrinks against my Harley. “Don’t.”
Twila’s eyes snap to me.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
“Not the time for this.”
“It became the fucking time when I found a missing girl bleeding on your motorcycle.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Move away from her.”
“No.”
“Last warning.”
I look at Kaylee.
“Tell her.”
Kaylee starts shaking harder. Bad move.
Twila sees it. Her grip on the gun firms. “Tell me what?”
“Ask her if I hurt her.”
Twila lowers her voice. “Kaylee? Did he hurt you?”
Kaylee looks at me.
Then Twila.
“I…”
“Take your time.”
“I don’t know.”
Twila’s gaze cuts to the zip tie still hanging from Kaylee’s wrist, then to my bloody palm.
I can practically watch the prosecution building itself behind her eyes. There ain’t a jury in Kentucky that wouldn’t convict me from where she’s standing.
I breathe out slowly. “She don’t know because she’s scared half to death.”
“Step away.”
“She needs help.”
“She’ll get help.”
“From who?”
“From me.”
“And then what? You call Daddy?”
Her eyes narrow. “Sheriff Dix.”
“Same man with reports disappearing under him?”
“Careful.”
“Strike a chord?”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Neither do you.”
“I know exactly what I’m looking at.”
“No. You think you do.”
“You’re at Pearly Gates with a missing girl. You have her blood on your hands.”
“Because I picked her up.”
Twila shifts left, opening a better angle on Kaylee without giving me her back.
Even pissed, she’s thinking like a deputy.
“Why?”
“To get her the fuck out of here.”
“And you just happened to know where she was?”
“No.”
“Another coincidence?”
“Deputy…”
“How many?”
My hands stop moving.
That question lands too close to every reason the Kings have spent months sniffing around Pearly Gates.
She takes one careful step closer. “How many girls?”
“Not doing this.”
“How many girls have the Kings moved through here?”
Kaylee makes a small sound.
Twila’s gun doesn’t waver.
“There ain’t girls moving through here because of us.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because somebody said she was.”
“Who?”
“Can’t tell you.”
She lets out one short laugh. “No shit.”
“Twila.”
“Don’t use my name like we’re friends.”
“Fine. Deputy Pain-In-My-Ass.”
Despite everything, one corner of my mouth almost moves. Woman’s insane.
“Put the gun down.”
“Not happening.”
“Kaylee needs medical help more than you need an arrest.”
“She needs an ambulance.”
“Don’t call one.”
That is the wrong thing to say.
Twila’s expression goes flat. “Why?”
“Because I don’t know who’ll show up.”
“You mean besides cops?”
“I mean exactly that.”
“You expect me to believe county law is somehow the danger here while you’re standing on Pearly Gates property with a missing girl bleeding on your bike?”
“I expect you to have enough sense to realize shit ain’t always what it looks like.”
“I’ve got a biker covered in blood telling me not to call cops.”
She jerks her chin toward Kaylee without taking her sights off me, the move pure cop even while the accusation feels personal.
“Yeah. When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”
“Because it is bad.”
“Could be worse.”
“How?”
“You could’ve listened when I told you to stay the fuck away.”
Her eyes flash.
“You think you can tell me where I can go.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
A vehicle rumbles in the distance.
Finally. Bullet. I don’t look.
Twila does.
Her gun moves less than an inch. “Who’s coming?”
“Backup.”
Her attention snaps back to me. “You called more bikers. Hands higher.”
“If I get them any higher, Blondie, I’m gonna start praising Jesus.”
“Don’t call me Blondie.”
“Then quit pointing a gun at me.”
The van comes through the trees.
Twila adjusts her stance, rotating enough to keep me in her peripheral vision while turning toward the vehicle.
Smart.
Bullet pulls up hard and climbs out. No cut. Dark shirt. Jeans. Gun hidden.
His eyes go to Kaylee first. Not me. Not Twila’s weapon.
The joke already forming on his face disappears before it makes it out. Then he registers me standing with my hands up, Twila aiming at us, and Kaylee bloody on the Harley.
His eyebrows lift. “The fuck did you do?”
Twila looks at me.
I glare at Bullet. “Why does everybody keep assuming I did something?”
“Experience.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Bullet lifts his hands when Twila swings the barrel toward him.
“Afternoon, Deputy.”
“Stay where you are.”
“Wasn’t planning on dancing.”
“Hands where I can see them.”
“They are.”
“Higher.”
Bullet glances toward me. “Y’all rehearsed this?”
“Bullet.”
“What?”
“Shut up.”
“Trying.”
Twila moves the gun fully onto him.
She widens her stance and tries to split the angle between us, smart enough to know exactly how bad the numbers just got.
That’s the mistake. Not because she ain’t trained. Because she’s outnumbered and knows it.
She’s trying to watch Bullet, me, Kaylee, the van, and the buildings behind us all at once. Too many threats.
One pair of eyes.
I move. Fast.
Twila hears the first step and starts turning.
Too late. I hit her low around the hips. She goes backward with a curse, and we slam into the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of both of us. Her gun hand stays high and away from our bodies instead of letting the muzzle sweep either one.
Good fucking training. I catch her wrist before she can bring the weapon back around.
“Get the fuck off me!”
“Drop it.”
“Go to hell!”
“Already live there.”
She drives a knee toward my balls.
I twist just in time.
Barely.
“Goddammit, woman.”
“Move ‘em faster next time.”
She bucks hard beneath me.
Strong. Sexy. Stronger than most men expect.
I ain’t most men. Still damn near lose her as Twila twists sideways, gets one boot planted, and almost rolls me off. I shift my weight before she can finish it and trap her gun wrist with both hands.
The weapon slides across the dirt.
Bullet kicks it farther away.
“Got it.”
Bullet bends long enough to retrieve Twila’s pistol from the dirt. He ejects the magazine, clears the chamber, and tucks both away separately.
Twila sees him. “You better give me that back.”
“Not while you’re threatening to shoot us.”
Twila elbows me in the ribs.
Pain lights up my side. “Fuck.”
“You enjoy this shit?”
“More than you are.”
She jams the heel of her free hand beneath my chin and shoves hard enough to snap my head back.
I catch that wrist too. Now I’ve got both. She’s breathing hard beneath me, blonde hair half pulled from the ponytail, face flushed and eyes murderous.
And because God hates me, my body notices every fucking bit of it.
Not now. Absolutely fucking not now.
“You done?” I ask.
“Get off me and find out.”
“Sounds like no.”
“Whiskey!”
Kaylee. The fear in her voice cuts through everything. Not fear of Twila. Not even fear of me.
Just fear. I look over.
She’s sliding sideways on the Harley.
Bullet moves toward her.
Twila sees it too.
“Don’t touch her!”
Bullet freezes midstep. “Lady, I’m trying to keep her from hitting the dirt.”
“She’s a witness.”
His expression changes.
“She’s a fucking person.”
That shuts Twila up.
I reach behind her duty belt and grab the cuffs.
Her eyes widen.
“You better not.”
“Been threatening me with these since I met you.”
“Whiskey.”
Click. One wrist. Her whole body changes beneath me. Not panic.
Utter fucking rage.
Every muscle tightens like she’s already recalculating what she can still do with one hand trapped behind her.
“You motherfucker.”
“Yeah.”
Click. Second wrist. I roll off her before she can knee me again.
She immediately tries to get up.
I catch her elbow.
“Don’t.”
“Take these off.”
“Nope.”
“I will arrest every goddamn one of you.”
“Get in line.”
“I am the line.”
Bullet snorts.
Twila whips her head toward him. “You think this is funny?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Bullet,” I warn.
He turns back toward Kaylee.
I help Twila to her feet.
She jerks away the second she’s upright.
“I can stand.”
Kaylee whimpers.
Every argument in the clearing dies.
Bullet moves toward her slowly now, hands where she can see them.
“Kaylee, I’m Bullet.”
He lowers himself until he’s below her eye line instead of looming over her.
She stares at him.
“I know that sounds pretentious. My mama ain’t responsible.”
Under any other circumstances, I’d laugh.
Kaylee’s mouth moves.
Bullet edges closer but doesn’t touch her.
“You’re bleeding pretty good. We’ve got blankets in the van. Can I help you?”
She looks at me.
I nod once.
“He’s an asshole, but he won’t hurt you.”
Bullet gives me a look. “Helpful.”
Kaylee whispers, “Okay.”
Twila watches the whole exchange.
Bullet doesn’t grab Kaylee. Doesn’t rush her. He waits until she puts one hand on his shoulder before he lifts her.
Her face twists in pain.
Twila steps forward. “Wait.”
I block her path.
“She needs medical attention.”
“No shit.”
“Then uncuff me.”
“Still no.”
“I can help her.”
“So can we.”
“You’re suspects.”
Bullet carries Kaylee toward the van.
I look at Twila. “She your witness or a woman bleeding out?”
“Both.”
“Then start acting like the second matters more.”
Her mouth opens, then closes when Kaylee shifts painfully beneath the blanket.
Bullet lays her across the rear bench with one blanket folded under her and another pulled over her legs. He checks the blood soaking through her side.
“Need pressure.”
I reach inside for the first-aid kit.
Twila follows a step.
I turn toward her. “Stay.”
“Did you just tell me to stay like a dog?”
“Was trying not to say sit.”