“You didn’t frisk her?” Razor thundered at Catfish and the other mountain sized biker. “What the fuck is wrong with you? She’s my daughter. Of course she’s got a weapon.”

Truly, you could have knocked me over with a feather.

“We’re leaving, those Winston boys are coming with, and no one is getting carved today.” Claire’s voice was unnervingly calm.

“You try my patience, baby girl.” Razor took a step toward his daughter and she responded by flicking off the safety, murder in her eyes. He stopped dead in his tracks.

“You dare raise a gun to your daddy?” Christine stood as well; her eyes and voice were full of loathing.

“Like I said, we’re leaving. And there will be no retribution either.” Claire ignored her momma. She and Jess moved in unison to where we were standing. Jess’s gun was trained on our eight biker escorts and Claire was covering Razor, Repo, Catfish, and the other mountain-sized Order member.

“Boss?” Catfish questioned, his eyes darting between us and Razor.

The club president squinted at his daughter for a long moment, his expression unreadable. At last he shook his head. “Let them go.”

“All the way?”

“Yeah. All the way.” Razor nodded once, his eyes still on Claire as he addressed her. “I’m only doing this ’cause you’re my blood, girl. I still got a soft spot for you. But don’t you forget, you don’t come back unless you plan to take your place.”

Claire shook her head, her lip curling with disgust. “I won’t be back. But don’t you forget, Cletus ain’t the only one who knows where the bodies are buried.”

CHAPTER 28

“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.”

― Lao Tzu

~Duane~

Claire saved us.

She guided us out of the compound via a much faster route than the maze we’d taken. It exited through a pair of above-ground cellar-like doors, opening to the outside at the edge of the parking lot. The temperature had dropped in the last half hour and we were dusted with big, fat snowflakes.

Once we were all outside, Jessica handed her gun over to Jethro, her eyes cutting to mine for the briefest of moments, and then the two of them were off running to Claire’s truck, which was parked nearby.

“Wait!” I started to follow, but Cletus stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“No time for that right now. Claire knows what she’s doing. We need to leave.”

I pulled out of his grip. “No. No fucking way. I need to see—”

“Duane, let her go. We ain’t got time for this and she ain’t got time for this. Claire will keep her safe.”

I wasn’t so sure. Not because I didn’t trust Claire or have faith in her level of badass, but I had a choking need to be the one to save Jess. I needed to see her to safety, witness it with my own eyes, hold her and know with certainty she was okay. But Claire and Jess were already in the Nissan Frontier and Claire was already maneuvering it out of the lot.

Cursing, I nodded. Cletus was right and I hated it.

We sprinted to the GTO, Jethro covering us with the gun Jess had passed him. I heard rather than saw Claire’s truck peel out and the engine rev as she sped away.

The outside of the bar was vacant, no soul in sight. The four of us quickly piled into Beau’s car and I sped off like a demon, hoping to never lay eyes on the godforsaken Iron Order headquarters again.

Twenty minutes later no one had said a word and we’d had no sighting of Claire’s truck. I was still glancing in the rearview mirror, half expecting to see motorcycles tailing us. But I didn’t. I saw only tourists’ rental cars, trucks, and campers. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jess.

We were just about fifteen minutes from home, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to know she was safe.

So I broke the silence. “Jethro, I need you to call Claire, find out where they are.”

“I texted Claire five minutes ago. They’re good. Jackson is meeting them at the James’s house. He’d read them both the riot act over the phone, she said. Claire is staying with Jess for the night in their guestroom.”

I blew out a breath, nodding, a new wave of relief passing through me. For the first time in my life I was thankful Jackson James existed. “Good. That’s good.”

Jethro turned in his seat and addressed his question to Cletus. “What I want to know is, what happened two years ago the night of January seventh, Cletus.”

“That’s the night Tommy Bronson went missing, aka Lube.”

“Lube?” Beau asked.

I saw Cletus nod in my rearview mirror. “Yeah. His biker name was Lube…an unfortunate nickname. But he got it because he was so slippery.”

“You have proof? The Order killed him?”

“No. I have no proof. I was bluffing. But everyone knows Razor did it.” He waved his hand in the air like this was a fact and this fact was common knowledge.

“Well, what I want to know is,” Beau met my eyes in the mirror briefly before turning to Cletus, “why did you tell Razor all that stuff when you were so sure we were being recorded? About how the police have been informed about the traps, but don’t know? Can’t he just use that to blackmail us again?”

Cletus took off his thick and unnecessary glasses, handed them to Beau. “You see this? This is an FPV video scrambler. It renders recording equipment useless. They might have been recording us, but all they’ll get is static.”

Jethro huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Then what the hell was the silly string for?”

“Like I said, it’s silly. And it makes a mess. I like to be prepared for all eventualities.”

I didn’t know what to say. Apparently, neither did anyone else because everyone was silent. Naturally, my thoughts turned back to Jess.

I needed to speak to her. Instinct told me to go to her, wrap her in my arms, and take her away from all this craziness. Take her back to our cabin and keep her there until things between us were sorted. I wanted her to look at me with certainty again. Not anger. Never hurt.

But first I needed a plan.

“You want us to drop you off at Jess’s?”

I glanced at my oldest brother, then shook my head.

“Why the hell not?”

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and gave Jethro my stony profile, and said nothing.

“I agree with Jethro,” Cletus chimed in, then added, “For the record.”

“Me too,” Beau agreed.

Jethro continued to push when I remained silent. “That woman loves you. I saw the way she looked at you when we walked in, saw the fear in her eyes when you volunteered to get cut.”

I shook my head, rejecting his words. “I have no plan. I’ve got nothing. I need to figure things out first, figure out—”

Jethro cut me off. “See, this is your problem.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Yeah, you do. You’re always planning, but getting nothing done, waiting for a sure thing. You love that woman, you go get her, Duane. You don’t wait ’til the time is right.”

“Pot, meet kettle.” Beau’s retort sounded almost cheerful.

“Shut it, Beau. We’re not talking about me.” Jethro turned in his seat, facing me and added in a more persistent tone, “She loves you something fierce. She does. You don’t wait for that kind of love to cool off, believe me. You strike while the iron is hot.”

***

It was the middle of the night and I was about to throw rocks at the window of Sheriff James’s house. Specifically at his daughter’s window. Now these were small rocks, pebbles really, and I wasn’t trying to break anything. I just wanted her to let me inside.

I didn’t know what I was doing. This kind of recklessness was completely foreign to me. I had no plan, no idea if I was about to make things a hundred times worse. But something about Jethro’s pushing, when he’d said You don’t wait for that kind of love to cool off. You strike while the iron is hot rang true.