Chapter 6
Slate
The afternoon stretches into evening as we roll down the highway towards LA. My old battle buddy has taken a beating to protect the woman I never forgot, and that’s not something I’m likely to fuckin’ forget anytime soon. Rivera always was a selfless kind of man.
The roar of the engines actually calms my nerves and allows me to think. And I can’t help that all my thoughts are about Christina—especially about the kiss we shared and the way she looked in the yard when I pulled out.
I hate lying to her. She’s a good woman and not built for a life of lies and manipulation.
She deserves so much better than that, especially after surviving an abusive relationship and all that entails.
Plus, she’s a former investigative reporter who can sniff out lies faster than any human being I’ve ever met.
Onyx rides beside me, steady as always. He doesn’t talk much when we’re riding after dark. He doesn’t have to. We grew up together and have logged enough miles riding shoulder to shoulder that we can read each other’s thoughts through hand signals and head tilts.
Jinx’s truck stays a few car lengths behind us, headlights cutting through the dark. We make good time, pushing through empty stretches of freeway and small towns that shut down after sunset.
Three hours in, Rivera texts me the address of his hotel room. We pull off at the exit he gave us and make short work of finding the hotel with no trouble at all. It sits alone under a flickering sign that reads Lone Star Motel. It is not the least bit impressive.
Rivera’s truck is parked at the far end, dented on the back panel. When we knock on the door, he answers with one hand pressed against his ribs. There’s a makeshift bandage wrapped around it. In the dim glow of the porch light I can see his face is a mass of cuts and bruises.
“You look like hell,” I say.
He laughs, then winces. “You should see the other guy,” he says, waving us in with his free hand.
“I plan to do more than see that fucker.”
Stitch arrives with his medical bag. “Glad you could make it,” I tell him as he sits Rivera down and begins examining him.
Lowering his voice, he asks, “You didn’t bring her, did you?”
Walking and dropping down into an armchair, I say, “No. Of course I didn’t fuckin’ bring her. What kind of damn moron do you take me for?”
An expression of relief jumps onto his face. “You’re a smart man. You don’t want her anywhere near this asshole. Her ex is totally unhinged. Not the kind of guy I ever imagined her getting with.”
“Exactly how unhinged is he?” I ask, with a sense of dread growing in my mind.
My friend rubs his face, wincing when he accidentally bumps into a nasty bruise. “He kept saying her name under his breath. Over and over. Like he had to remind himself who he was stalking.”
My stomach knots. “He said her name?”
“Yeah. Full name. What kind of asshole calls his ex by her full name like that?”
“Did he mention anything else? Why does he want her back?”
“Something about her owing him. Said she ‘stole what was his’. I couldn’t tell if he meant their kid or something else. The guy’s got that clean-crazy look, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, unfortunately, I’ve encountered that particular brand of unhinged before.”
“He reminded me of a fuckin’ robot. He had this weird monotone voice and crazy eyes.”
I fold my arms over my chest, turning this situation over in my mind. “Did you hear anything else useful?”
“He talked to someone on speaker phone. That person called the asshole who abducted me, Neal. Mentioned a warehouse off Imperial Boulevard. That’s all I got before he realized I was awake. Kicked me around for a while after that.”
“You should have called me sooner.”
“I did just now. You got here in record time, considering you were busy playing house with your old flame.” His grin is half misery and half amusement.
“Watch your mouth,” I tell him, but there’s no heat in my words because if I thought she was ready, I’d love to be playing fuckin’ house with Christina right now.
He shakes his head, wincing again. “I get it. You care about her. Always did. I just didn’t think you’d let it show.”
I don’t respond because it falls into the category of incriminating myself in front of everyone.
He tries to grin. “Guess I undersold it.”
Rivera winces as Stitch peels back the bandage he made by tearing up strips of his pillowcase. I can see from where I’m standing that the bruising runs deep. There’s an angry purple and red bruise running down one side of his torso.
“Couple of cracked ribs for sure,” Stitch mutters. “Maybe a hairline fracture in the collarbone. The fingers don’t appear to be broken but the soft tissue injury is gonna take a while to heal. I’ll tape him up properly. But he’s gonna need rest and painkillers. You’ll be sore for a while, brother.”
“Add it to the list of personal problems I’ve got going on at the moment,” Rivera says through his teeth.
I hand him a bottle of water. “You told me it was a stun gun and some bruises.”
“Didn’t want you tearing down here like a maniac.”
“You got three days’ worth of beating. That ain’t no small thing and you know it. How the hell did that even happen?”
He glances away, his jaw tight. “He stunned me and grabbed me off the street. I woke up tied to a chair in some basement. Concrete floor, stark overhead light and one unhinged lunatic trying to fuckin’ beat information out of me about your ex.”
“She’s my old lady now. I put her in my property cut,” I tell him curtly.
“Movin’ a little fast there, ain’t you?” he murmurs.
“We’re goin’ slow. Don’t ya worry about that.”
Stitch finishes taping his ribs and packs up.
Rivera lets out a shaky breath. “The crazy fucker would pull his shit together every now and then, almost seem normal, and then take off, leaving me chained up. I counted three nights. I lost track of time after that.”
I take a wild shot in the dark and ask, “You somehow managed to escape?”
He shakes his head. “No. I think he got tired of messin’ with me.
Said I wasn’t useful anymore and dumped me off along the side of the road out here in the middle of nowhere.
It took forever to get a ride. Some trucker finally stopped.
I borrowed his charging cable, got enough juice in my phone to call you, and here we are. ”
“He didn’t take your phone?” I ask.
Rivera shrugs then winces. “No. Dumb fucker tried to get me to unlock it, but then he seemed to lose interest in it. Like he was just spouting out lines or something.”
I nod, paying attention to the way his voice shook when he talked about it. Every part of me wants to find the man and break him in half.
“You said you missed the interview?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah. It was the first good shot I’ve had in months.”
“I’m sorry.”
He laughs, but it sounds bitter rather than humorous. “Not your fault.”
I think for a second, then say, “Look, if you want a change, I can offer you one. Prospect with us. You already know how to watch a perimeter and follow orders. You’ll have paid work, a readymade support network, and we’ll make sure he doesn’t circle back around to try this seriously fucked up shit in the future.
You’ll finally have something solid under you. ”
He studies me like he’s not sure I mean it. “You serious?”
“When it comes to my club, I don’t make casual offers.”
His good eye glints with interest. Of course, the other one is swollen shut at the moment, but that’s beside the point. “Let’s get through this first. But yeah, it sounds like an interesting offer.”
“Good,” I tell him, pleased that he’s taking my offer seriously.
Stitch finishes packing up and heads out. Rivera watches me, then lets out a long breath. “You really are going to go after this asshole, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
He gestures to his ribs. “If you’re going after him, be smart. This guy’s got backup. The car he stuffed me into wasn’t stolen and the plates were clean. That means he’s got money and someone keeping records tidy.”
“Let me worry about that.”
“I’m already doing that,” he says. “You’ll want to start near the east end of Imperial. Most of the warehouses there are half-empty or private storage. Perfect place for someone who doesn’t want to be seen to hang out.”
I nod once. “Rest up. We’ll handle it from here.”
Rivera studies me for a long second. “Don’t let Christina see you come back bloody.”
“I don’t intend on it,” I say.
For two reasons—firstly, she doesn’t need to know what goes down when I get my hands on that fucker, and secondly, if I get any blood on me, it sure as hell won’t be mine.
After we get Rivera cleaned up and dosed with painkillers, Onyx brings food from the diner down the block. Rivera manages half a sandwich before sleep drags him under.
I pull out a map I got from the lobby and spread it across the small table. Onyx sits across from me, as quiet and patient as he’s ever been. Jinx is leaning against the wall, scrolling through police scanner apps on his phone. Maddox is standing guard outside.
Rivera stirs once, mumbling in his sleep, and I lower my voice. “Rivera said the asshole mentioned a warehouse off Imperial. You see anything that fits the description?”
“There are plenty of them,” Onyx says. “Half of those units are fronts or shell leases. Could take days. The area is rife with crime. We could just as easily get jumped ourselves as get our hands on him.”
“Not if we draw him out.”
Jinx looks up. “How would you go about doing that?”
“From what Rivera said, he’s obsessed with Christina. Her name kind of runs on a loop in his mind. He’s probably checking all the same leads we are, hoping to sniff out her trail. If we leave a false one, he might come running.”
Onyx nods slowly. “A rumor, or something like that.”
“Exactly. We need something believable that says she’s been seen. Put it through the channels he’d monitor. We could post information that a former investigative reporter is going to hold a seminar at the local civic center or a local auditorium.”
“That’s risky,” Jinx says.
“So is waiting for him to find her first,” I shoot back.
They both fall silent. “Extraordinary situations call for extraordinary measures.”
I glance towards the wall separating our room from Rivera’s. His breathing sounds rough though. “We need to flush him out on our terms. The only surprise ambush is the one he’s going to fall into.”
Onyx leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I’ve got one better. Christina writes under a false name, right?”
“Yeah, C.H. Lane,” I say.
“Leak the news that C.H. Lane is gonna be there. Assuming this asshole knows that’s the name she writes under. Drop a few breadcrumbs if not, enough so the asshole knows it’s her.”
I grin at him. “That actually sounds believable. But let’s keep our involvement secret. That way there will be nothing that traces back to Sons of Rage.”
Jinx warms up to our idea. “And when he shows?”
I meet his eyes. “We make sure he doesn’t walk away this time.”
We work the better part of the night on our plan and Onyx begins setting up the press releases. Even if I say so myself, it all looks watertight. It can’t possibly go wrong.
When the others finally crash, I stay up, staring at the map under the flickering light. My mind keeps drifting back to Cedar Falls. Christina’s voice, and that scorching-hot kiss.
I wonder if she’s asleep, or if she’s sitting up waiting for us to come back, pretending she isn’t worried.
I told her I was making a parts run for the garage.
I lied, and that’s something I’ll have to own up to.
I dropped Jasper a text telling him we might be here for a few days and to make up some excuse for Christina—say my bike broke down or something.
I’m no Boy Scout but I don’t particularly like lying, especially to people I care about.
I tell myself the same thing I always do.
Protecting someone doesn’t mean keeping them close.
It means keeping danger far enough away that it can’t hurt the people I care about.
I finally fold the map, turn off the lamp, and lean back in the chair. But sleep won’t come. My thoughts keep circling the same place, Imperial Street, the warehouse, and that asshole with Christina’s name in his mouth. Morning isn’t far off. When it comes, we’ll hunt.