Wrangled Mess (8 page)

“You have to tell her something. Don’t worry about it tonight.” I used a dry towel to press water from his hair.

“She knows people at the hospital. Get my phone before…” My doorbell rang. “Fuck.”

“I don’t have your phone honey.”

“Shit.” He rolled to his right side and laid down.

“I’ll be back.”

“Use the peephole Cookie. There’s a step stool inside the garage door.”

“Okay.”

I didn’t bother with the peephole. The voices on the other side of my door told me we’d been ratted out by the nurses, and somehow his mother had tracked down my address.

I opened the door and waved in a woman in her mid fifties, a man who looks like a smaller clean-shaven version of Trace, and a woman with no family resemblance whatsoever.

Trace’s mother, Bina, waited until I closed the door before holding Trace’s phone out for me to take. “Where’s my son?”

I took the phone and motioned for her to follow me. “He’s laying down. I was just about to serve up some lasagna. You’re welcome to join us.”

She didn’t seem to hear me as she went quickly to inspect her son. “What happened?? Who would do this to my baby??”

“Quit Ma. The guy was a lousy shot, he barely grazed me. I’m sore, but not hurt.” Trace lied to appease his mother. The shot went through his flesh taking two big chunks with them. He’ll be sore for a few weeks.

“Who is trying to hurt my son??” She looked up at me.

I mustered up all the strength I could, “My exboyfriend. It seems I underestimated his hate for me. He stole over a million dollars from my royalties, and cheated on my taxes to cover up his funneling of the money into offshore accounts. Trace not only stole me from him on a personal level, but thanks to Trace looking into him, I found out he was not only conning me, but trying to kill me.” Whew! That should about cover it.

“We’re going to talk more about this later.” She looked back to Trace, “Sit up. Let me see you wounds.”

“No Ma, I have Celeste to take care of me. Go home. I’ll call you first thing in the morning.” He caught her face in his big hands and kissed her nose and forehead. “Go. And take that idiot brother of mine with you.”

His brother hugged Trace harder than any of us had dared. Tears filled both their eyes before they let go. We said our goodbyes at the door a few minutes later.

8

“This is a mess.” I fed him another bite.

Trace nodded as he chewed. When he finished he said, “I think we should go away for a few days. Maybe a week. Let the club sort this out. I’m no use to them, or my job, right now anyway.”

“We’ll talk to Slider in the morning. He called me your old lady.” I’m trying to change the subject.

“You’re not old.”

I bopped his nose leaving sauce behind before feeding him the next bite. “I’m not exactly a lady either.”

“You’re very much a lady Cookie. You don’t have to play nurse maid. I can feed myself.”

“I know. I’m keeping busy so I don’t have a nervous breakdown. You’ve been in my life for three days, and almost went right out of it before I got a chance to enjoy you. I can’t tell you how freaked out I am right now.”

“Want my good shoulder?”

“No. I want to keep busy. For a little while.”

“When I pass out from the pain meds you can go hunt down all the scraps of toilet paper I blew all over your house.” He suggested trying to cheer me up.

“That was pretty funny.” Except I’m not feeling too amused right now.

“Eat some more of that. I think I’m done.”

“You’re not done. You just want me to think you are so I’ll eat the rest. Then in ten minutes you’ll tell me you’re hungry again.” I’ve seen him eat, and there’s no way he’s had enough of this lasagna.

“I’ll be asleep in ten minutes.” He assured me and sunk down into the bed.

“I’m going to go clean up. Come on Bits. You need to go out one more time.”

He snorted his agreement and followed me to the back door. I let him out and went to the kitchen where I promptly lost my composure. To make sure Trace can’t see me break down and cry, I sunk to the floor and pulled my knees up to my chest.

Normally I’m stronger than this. I don’t break down and cry when things go wrong, when somebody gets hurt. Except my dad. That was different. He not only got hurt, he had his heart torn out when the doctor told him he’d never ride again.

Trace will ride again. Maybe not for a couple weeks, but he’ll ride. Will I be able to ride with him? I can’t think about that right now. He’s just been shot. Twice. By a guy hired by the jerk I dated seriously for over a year.

Maybe Jackson didn’t pull the trigger, but he paid someone to do it for him. Someone that could start a war for the whole club. Jackson is not only coming after me and Trace, he’s gunning for the club by involving Trace.

I’m guessing Jackson did a little digging and found out Trace’s last name is the same as the notorious Robert “Slider” Colson Jr. Son of Robert “Bull” Colson, notorious founder of the largest motorcycle club in the country.

Some come close, most are friendly. Slider has worked very hard to make peace west of the Mississippi since he forced Bull into retirement twenty years ago. He hasn’t told me what he used as a tool or weapon to pull that move off, but I’m sure I don’t want to know.

Now I have my very own Colson laying in my bed with bullet wounds because of me. I had no idea Jackson was such an asshole!! I found myself crying harder at my own stupidity, than my anger. I’m mad at myself, mad at Jackson, and mad that I’m sitting here falling apart on my kitchen floor.

“Come here Cookie.” Long supportive fingers hooked under my forearms and gently helped me up. “Come here baby. I got you. I got you.” Trace rocked me in his arm as I tried not to crush the one in the sling.

“I’m sorry. I’m used to being strong for other people, not for myself.”

“That’s why you have me, to be strong for you. I let Bits back in, and the house is locked up. Let’s get you naked and between the sheets.”

“I am
so
not in the mood for sex.”

“Who said anything about sex?”

“If you weren’t injured I might reconsider my stance on us rushing into things.”

“You have a stance?”

I stopped at the side of the bed and untangled myself from under his arm to take off my shirt. I kicked out of my sweat pants earning an approving eyebrow raise, then dove into bed.

He followed so I can sleep in the crook of his good arm. “What’s your stance on us rushing things?”

I stifled a yawn, “Doesn’t matter, you’re hurt.”

“Tell me.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Tell me.”

“Shh. I’m sleeping.”

“I’ll keep asking.”

“Go ahead, I’ll be asleep.”

He kissed the top of my head and shook slightly telling me he’s chuckling silently. “Goodnight Cookie.”

“Ah shit. Cookie. Honey. Wake up love. I need your help.” Trace sounds hurried, but not frantic.

“What?” I hear his phone now.

“I need you to go get that, it’s Stan. I haven’t talked to him since I left the hospital.”

“Speaking of which, why didn’t you call me when you got shot yesterday??”

“You were on the air baby. Go. Hurry up, please.”

I groaned and rolled to retrieve his phone from the kitchen bar where I’d left it last night. Instead of risking it going to voicemail I answered it, “Hang on, he’s right here.”

“Is this Celeste?”

“Yes.” I need coffee.

“How is he? Did he sleep last night?”

“He’s fine, and yeah, I think so. Here.” I handed Trace the phone and climbed back between warm sheets.

“Hey man, sorry I didn’t call you back. No, I’m fine. I got my girl here looking after me. We’re going to need some east side coverage for a while. Can I give you a prospect to train? He’s done a few jobs with me. Shouldn’t take but a couple weeks overlap to get him worked in. Thank you. I’ll call you back in an hour or so.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yes and no. We won’t be getting those contracts this year.” He tilted his head and reached up with his good arm to twist my hair between his fingers. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll happen when it’s meant to happen. Sorry to rush you out of bed. How do you feel this morning?”

“Don’t worry about me. How are you? Are you hungry?”

“I am, but we need to get over to the club. It’s past eight.”

“I have some quiches we can eat on the way over. Want some help getting dressed?”

“Depends. Do you want to leave this house today?”

“Honestly? No. I’d rather stay right here with you.”

He smiled and bounced his eyebrows once at me. “I like the way you think.”

“I’m sure you do.” I kissed his neck a couple times then rolled out of bed and pick my clothes off the floor. We joke about the sex stuff, but when it comes down to it we know exactly where we are, and what the boundaries are.

I set the boundaries with my body language. Just a gentle push of my hands and he backs off. I let him get away with the wandering hands more than should, or normally would.

Our joking is more of a breaking of the ice. Neither of us could deny the attraction between us. Denying our attraction to each other, would be a flat out lie, and disrespectful to something that is precious, and rare.

The only reason I’m not throwing myself at the gorgeous man who seems to worship the ground I walk on, is trust. I trust him, I don’t trust myself. Trace and I have a long way to go before I can give so much of myself again. I want to be intimate with him, I miss intimacy of any kind, but I can’t let him all the way in, yet.

“It was an unprovoked attempt on the life of a member. You can’t just send him back home with a slap on the wrist!” Gunner almost yelled.

Goat shook his head, “You don’t get it. If we send him home in a body bag there’s nothing to say he really came after Wrangler at all. We’d be basically sending them an open invitation to war.”

“So he gets off scott free?”

“If we could reason with them, I’d say no. If I could kill him without starting a war, I’d say no. Our only choice is to send him home with a story to tell, then go after the guy who paid the bill to have trigger pulled.” Goat explained. For a young guy he’s pretty smart. Well spoken too.

“Are we taking him down on, or off, the record?” Gunner asked. He’s the trigger happy one. The big guns of the club.

Slider looked at me, “That’s kind of up to doc here. How do you want to avenge the attempt on your old man’s life?”

“I want to do this legally.”

“I’ll have my lawyer contact yours. You would be wise to find an untraceable way to warn Jackson, if he makes another move against a brother, this club will rain down on him so hard he’ll find himself six feet under in more than one hole.”

“I can’t hear that Slider.”

“I want you two out of town. Somewhere Jackson wouldn’t think to look for you. When the lawyers get enough to put him behind bars, then you can come back.”

“I can’t leave my show for an indefinite amount of time.”

“Work it out Dr. Skye. You run the show from home, you can run it from the road. Figure out where to go, shoot the information to Goat, and nobody else. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” I feel like I’m in the principles office. Only my principle never had a laser cut glass conference table with the clubs patch carved into it.

“Joe, I want surveillance on Jackson twenty-four seven. Goat take Gunner and see our trigger happy friend to the border. Take his tat and his colors. He won’t be welcome back to her gang, but they’ll want to know why and how he lost his colors before they kill him.”

“Yes sir.” Goat replied turning his hat around backwards.

“Alright, that about covers it for now. Goat, see me when you’re done. Joe, text me when you’re done.”

“It’s already done.” Joe chimed in for the first time this morning.

“Good. I’m going to go deal with scumbag lawyers.”

“Call Georgia.” Joe chimed in again.

“Not a bad idea. Red?”

“On it.” Red replied. She’s Joe’s wife, and one of very few female members. She looks innocent enough, but she’s not a small girl. Not much smaller than me in fact. I wouldn’t want to piss her off. Any woman who is capable of earning a patch is one you want to befriend, not anger.

Trace stood up limping a little, or just enough to warrant putting this arm around my shoulders. “Where would you like to go my love?”

“Home. I have an idea.”

“Does it involve cookies?”

“No.”

“Can we change that?”

I sighed, we’ve been out of treats for over a day. My man is not happy, and becoming a nag. “Yes. I’ll make us a batch of cookies for the road.”

“No pie?”

“Good grief Trace. I don’t have time to make a damn pie.”

“Are we in a hurry?”

“Did you hear Slider say to take our time getting out of town?” I’m getting snappy with him now. The idea of running my show from a hotel room does not appeal to me. My team works better when we can see each other. Read each other’s signals and body language. Video chats never work as well from hotel internet services.

“I didn’t hear him say to run either.” He argued opening the driver’s door to my car for me. He could probably drive, but I want his butt to heal. Literally.

“Stop being a pest. I’m in a crappy mood.”

He shut my door and came around to drop slowly into the passenger seat. “It’s going to be okay Cookie.”

“Did your mother ever tell you not to tell an angry woman to calm down?”

“Why are you angry?”

“Why am I angry??” I slammed the car back into park and turned in my seat to face him. “Why am I angry?? Do you really need to ask?”

“I’m asking.” He confirmed calmly only fueling my temper.

“Let’s see. My ex-boyfriend, who I foolishly considered marrying, was robbing me blind. You come along and catch him in the act of trying to kill me. On top of that I’m being taken in by your sexy smile and intoxicating eyes.” My temper is losing momentum. “Now I’m being run out of town because my ex is trying to kill the man I love. There. Now you know why I’m angry.”

I tried to turn my attention back to driving, but Trace put his hand over my arm. “I love you too Celeste. We’ll get past this. I promise.”

“I don’t like promises.”

“Celeste. Stop. Look at me.”

“I want to go home.”

“You’re acting like a bratty child. Look at me.”

I tried not to shoot him the dirtiest look ever, but I may not be able to help it. “What?”

He scratched his nose letting me stew for a moment. “Okay, yell at me.”

“You could have been killed!!!” I yelled knowing when I’m done, he’s going to comfort me until I feel better.

“Jackson is such an inbred dumbass douche, he hired a wing nut who didn’t realize you can’t hit shit with a .38 from that distance.”

“What if he’d been closer? What if he’d posed as a window washer and shot you point blank. What if, what if, what if. I know better than to do this, but I can’t help it. I barely know you, but dammit Trace, you can’t leave me now!!”

“I’m not going anywhere. Before this gets ugly, the club is going to take care of it. I know it’s inconvenient, and I know you’re scared, but I need you to trust me. Trust the club. Trust Slider, and trust the lawyers. In the meantime, we’re going to go take a little vacation.”

“Do you get why trust might be an issue with me right now?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” It was an easy answer.

“Do you trust Slider?”

“Of course.” Another easy answer.

“Good. Now take me to my place so I can pack a couple bags. I need to call my babysitter.”

“Babysitter?”

“Yeah, for my snakes. They can’t be left alone, and it’s too far for Stan to drive. I’ll call a friend of mine to look after them while we’re gone. We need to be there to give him the keys though.”

“I am not going to a house full of snakes.” I started the car as Goat honked his horn at me. I know. I know. I’m in the way. Shit.

“It’s only for a few minutes, and they’re all in cages.”

I shivered. “Bits is probably into something by now.”

“Kris is watching him, he’ll be fine.” Sawyer got a call this morning and dropped Kris off at my house on his way out so she could entertain Bitsy while we were having the meeting at the club.

Kris loves him as much as I do. “What does Kris do for a living again?”

“Kris is complicated. I’ll let her tell you.”

I followed Trace’s directions to his house and bit my lip. “This is the place you’re restoring??”