Wild Ways (6 page)

As though she’d get involved with Julian. He was the total opposite of the type of man she got involved with.
“It’s my sister who goes for the bad boys, not me.”

“We need to find their clubhouse,” Chase was saying, bringing her back to present. “I did some research on motorcycle clubs on the flight here. They always have a clubhouse and eventually everyone goes there at one point or another.”

“I know where it is,” Mollie said. “I followed a pack of the Kings there a week ago and staked it out but saw neither Di nor Brick.”

Julian looked at Chase. “She kills me. She really does.”

Chase turned to her. “The caveat to helping you, if you’re going to insist on being part of the investigation, is that you defer to Julian’s leadership. Your emotional stake in this can blind you. You run into a dangerous situation, my operative is going after you, because that’s the way they are. Now he’s in danger, too. So you follow his orders. Are we in agreement?”

A tiny part of her railed at these men coming in and taking over. But she had been alone for so much of this ordeal, and having help, even temporarily, eased a deep ache inside her. Hell, she’d met biker gang members and made promises to give them money if they gave her a viable lead. She could agree to this. Her gaze went to Julian’s, and something fluttered in her chest. “Yes.”

Chase swiped his finger across his tablet. “Give me everything you know about Brick, along with any pictures. I have a contact in the ATF who’s done some undercover work in the California clubs. I’ll tap him and see if he can give me any information. We need to run down this Brick guy. It might be as simple as finding your sister with him.”

Mollie’s heart shifted with hope as she recounted everything she knew and sent Chase the pictures. She couldn’t give up hope, but it was a double-edged sword, cutting deep when she hit another dead end.

The server brought their meals, both men insisting that she eat something heavy
on protein but with some carbs because she “needed to keep herself going.” It was always she who was encouraging someone to take care of themselves.

“Is Rath going to ride with you?” Chase asked Julian.

“Once he gets back from Texas, he’ll have my back. Until then, I can handle this.”

They finished their breakfasts, and Chase picked up the tab before Mollie could take out her wallet. “It’s my pleasure to treat you,” he said.

As she opened her mouth to protest, Julian winked. “He has a private jet. I have a feeling he can handle twelve bucks.”

This seemed too good to be true. Things didn’t happen easily in her life. And the rare times when there wasn’t a struggle, it didn’t feel right. Like with her last romantic relationship, which had ended months ago. Jimmie had been sinking into depression, having anxiety attacks. She had tried to help, but their relationship resembled two people swirling around in a toilet bowl. When it finally flushed away, she had only felt relief, no trace of sadness. He’d just been another soul needing all her attention. Di was enough.

Out in the parking lot, Chase said, “I’ll be in touch when I get any information. You two be careful.”

She watched him walk to the Lincoln that was waiting for him. “Jet. Private cars. Who
is
that guy? And why would he help me?”

“Sometimes when you get screwed over in life, you feel a need to make things right for others.” A thread of emotion lowered his voice. “He’s tight-lipped about his story, but he formed a company to get justice for those who can’t get it through normal channels. I imagine he got stomped somewhere down the line. Chase is the real deal. Trust us to help you.”

“It’s hard to trust anyone. A lot of people have offered to help or given me information, and it’s all led to big fat nothing. But I’ll accept your help for as long as you’re willing to offer it.” She gave them a couple of days at most before other things pulled them away.

He studied her, and though she sensed that he wanted to delve deeper, he merely
nodded. “First order of business is to grab a couple of hotel rooms and get some shut-eye. You look like you’re about to drop. Rath and I usually pull off the road and sleep on our rolls.” He pointed toward a mat tucked up against his bike by pursing his lips, an unusual gesture he’d used once earlier. “But that’s at night where we’re not visible. And I don’t suppose you’d be up for that anyway. Today we’ll sleep all civilized.”

She nodded, feeling the drag of everything pulling her down. Not only that she hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours, but nearly being killed. The roller-coaster ride of hope and disappointment. She only hoped she had enough credit left on her cards.

He gave her what he called a skull cap, the small black helmets she’d seen many bikers wearing. They mounted his Harley, and she settled her arms loosely around his waist. Her soul ached to hold tight and lean against his back. Let him drive, both figuratively and literally. But she couldn’t let herself count on anyone.

A short while later, Julian pulled into a clean, small motel parking lot. She grabbed her small bag, retrieved earlier from her car, and preceded him into the office.

“Two rooms,” Julian said, taking his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.

“I’ll pay for mine.” As he began to object, she said, “You’re helping me at no charge. I can take care of my own expenses.”

Except she couldn’t, because the clerk shook his head after running the card a third time. “It’s not going through. Have another one?”

Humiliation washed over her. She pulled out her second one and prayed for a miracle. No such thing.

“I’ll get both,” Julian said, pushing his card toward the guy.

“No.” She dug through her cash, but that was dwindling, too, and she might need it to pay for information. “Can we share a room? Would you mind? I don’t feel right you paying for my room, and heck, I’m beyond being squeamish about sharing with a guy for a few hours.” A stranger. A sexy stranger. Something thrummed through her at that realization, but the words were out. “As long as it has separate beds,” she added with a half smile.

“All right.” He turned to the clerk. “One room then.”

A few minutes later, Julian led the way to room eighteen. She dropped her bag onto one of the twin beds. “Is it all right if I take a shower first?”

“Be my guest.”

She tried not to think about that sexy stranger as she washed away dirt and grit. She didn’t even know who she was anymore, beyond her search for Di. She was no longer a banquet manager at a beachfront resort. She hung out in biker bars and associated with dangerous men who could shoot a lot better than she could. A man she was now alone with in a motel room. And while her usual wariness suggested she should bring her gun into the bathroom, it seemed paranoid at this point. He’d saved her life; he wouldn’t harm her now.

She quickly dried her hair and dressed, vacating the dingy bathroom. “All yours.”

He’d already stripped out of his shirt and shoes, wearing only faded jeans. “Stay put while I’m in here. We’re still in Kings territory, and they’re going to be gunning for you now. These guys don’t like to be crossed.”

“But they attacked
me
!”

“They won’t see it that way.”

It felt strange to be ordered around. To be cared about in any capacity. He disappeared into the bathroom, and she pulled out her phone. The sound of a text notification stopped her mid-dial. Julian’s cell sat on top of his black duffel bag, a text lighting up the screen. She couldn’t resist taking a peek. She needed to see what this man who had swept into her life like some dark angel was about.

It was from Estefan:
When you coming back? We’re starting a new business. A good one. We need you home, man
.

The screen went to sleep. Someone cared about him. Wanted him to come home. Must be nice. Her home was a small apartment with little in the way of décor or furnishings. It was cluttered during the times Di stayed there, between her rehab stints. Even when Di was there, it was more tension and arguing than it was homey and peaceful.

Speaking of home … she dialed her grandfather.

“Mollie,” he answered, and she couldn’t tell if that was relief in his voice. Then again, the man showed little in the way of emotion. “Are you back in town? Please tell me you’ve come to your senses and begged for your job back.”

This wasn’t going to go well. She sank to the bed. “I’m still in Oklahoma. I have a real lead, Granddad. And I have help now, an organization that takes on cases like mine pro bono.”

“Why would anyone help you find a grown woman who was stupid enough to run off with a biker gang?”

She flinched, because the inference was clear—she was stupid, too. “I think the owner feels sorry for me. It might only be for a day or so, but I’ll take any help I can get. Don’t you regret not trying to save Mom? Don’t you wonder if you could have stopped her from going down the path she did? Kept her from overdosing?” Her emotions thickened her voice.

Mollie already lived with her own guilt as to whether she could have done something. She and Di had been out with their grandparents for the evening. They’d come home to find their mom snorting cocaine in the kitchen. Mollie’s grandfather had exploded and ordered her to leave until she cleaned up. She disappeared for three days, and then the authorities had notified them that she’d been found dead in some run-down apartment.

He let out a long sigh she knew well. “I wish she wouldn’t have taken that road, but there was nothing I could do. We tried. Forced her into rehab, threatened to have you girls taken away from her. We let you all move in with us. You think because I wasn’t as obsessed with trying to save her as you are with Diana that I didn’t love her? That I don’t love your sister? I raised you both, dammit. My wife and I put our lives on hold so the three of you could have a stable environment. We bailed your mother out of jail twice.” He took a sharp breath. “Sorry, you didn’t know about that.”

Jail? The word struck her in the chest. “Those times when you told us she’d ended up working the overnight shift at the bar?”

“Yes. We finally realized it was pointless to try saving someone who’s intent on
destroying herself. Diana followed in your mother’s tragic footsteps, and we’re tired, Mollie. Tired of fighting addiction. And you, like always, have stepped into the caretaker role. Aren’t you tired, too? It’s time to let go.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t. The thought of it literally tears out my heart. I can’t give up on her.” She cleared the emotion that was clogging her throat. “I just need a favor. I hate to ask, but I’m running out of money and my credit card limits. Is there any way—”

“I’m invoking tough love, Mollie. I cannot in good conscience finance an endeavor that puts you in tenuous situations. I can’t enable your obsessive behavior anymore.”

She suddenly became aware of a presence and jerked around to find Julian standing in the gloom of the room. His hair was damp, his chest glistening with drops of water as he continued to dry his hair. A black American eagle adorned his left pec, talons stretched to grab up some unseen prey. His muscular chest bore faint scars, probably from his years in the service. His jeans were torn at the knees.

“Sorry I bothered you,” she whispered and disconnected. “What were you in the SEALs, a spy?” Her clipped tone gave away her embarrassment at his having heard her begging for money, for support.

“Stealth is part of the game.” He tossed the towel on the floor and dropped to the other bed. “You learn a lot that way. I find it useful to know as much about the people I work with as I can.” He propped himself up on his side, his arm draped over his hip, and regarded her. The slice of morning light cut across his shoulder and hair, highlighting a burgundy hue.

“What have you learned about me?” Damn, why had she asked
that
?

“You’re broke, and you’re alone in this. That, as tough as you are, it breaks your heart to think about giving up. Maybe because someone gave up on you. It’s more than love that drives you to find your sister.”

“No one gave up on me.” Well, that wasn’t true. First her father had given up on all of them, and then, in her own way, her mother had, too. But that wasn’t what drove
her. Julian seemed to be analyzing her, compassion in his eyes. She said, “Please, don’t feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you.” He rolled onto his back, his hands laced behind his head. “I doubt Chase does either.”

So he’d heard that, too. “Then why are you helping me?”

“Because you need it.”

That was all he was going to say about it? She settled on her bed, both drained and restless. Facing him, though she was sure it wasn’t intentional. She couldn’t deny that she felt safe with him. No bikers would break in and take her away. She would hold on to that feeling, cherish it. Soon it would be gone, and so would he. And she would be alone again.

“Oh, you had a text,” she whispered. “From Estefan. He wants you to come home.”

He turned toward her, arching an eyebrow. “You read my text?”

Now she rolled onto her back, trying to stifle a small smile. “I like to know who I work with, too.”

Scotch and his boys rolled up to the old building late. He would get shit just for that. Wait till King Crimson heard the rest of it. He couldn’t afford to bring down the fury of the motherfuckin’ chapter, as he called it.

The sign over the door was probably as old as the club, at least thirty years. They parked among the old Harleys, probably none of which were newer than 1999. Most of them looked like they could’ve easily fallen apart on the ride there. He nodded at the prospects standing outside as guards.

Church was already under way, the meetings required for all members. When Scotch and his guys walked into the cavernous metal building, he could hear Crimson asking, “Are the girls ready?”

Rancid, president of the Chicago chapter, said, “Right on schedule, broken and drumming up some cash at the bar.”

“You been taking down the ‘missing’ flyers?”

One guy gestured to the pile of flyers, girls’ faces and last seen information ranging from Georgia to Nevada. Every chapter had been collecting them—and the girls on them. Runaways, most of them, escaping parents or a spouse.