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“Fritter—”

  “Tell me there’s nothin’ here.” He moved closer, voice dropping. “You tell me that, I’ll respect it. But for my part ... I do care for you. I want to get to know you better. I want that shot.”

  She swallowed as her heart convulsed, jumping into her throat. “Fritter—”

  “Don’t play it like there’s nothin’ here.” He captured a hand, and she didn’t try to pull away. With surprising gentleness he pressed the palm of her hand to his chest and moved even closer. “Please come back. Let some of this blow over. Then come back. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she agreed softly, not lying. Not exactly. She’d have to put her house on the market and close out all that type of business before she could really move away. She just couldn’t come back for him.

  His smile was hopeful, and she realized he didn’t totally believe her. Still, he tipped his head down and brushed his lips over hers softly. A jolt shot through her, right to her toes. Fucking Fritter Horton and his goddamn kissing.

  “Don’t be scared, not of me. Okay?”

  His whispered words were sobering. She was scared of him. How he undid her, crept under her skin and was starting to get into her head as well. This was a disaster. She vaguely wondered if that was part of the attraction. She couldn’t peg him, not completely. She through she knew what he wanted, and then he’d completely changed the plot on her. On them.

  “I’m not scared. This is just crazy.”

  His free hand cupped her jaw. “Yeah, it is. That’s why I like it.”

  She shook her head. “Fritter—”

  “Don’t tell me no. Don’t run away. Just come back.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, staring at their hands on his chest. She liked his hands. They were big, square, very manly. They dwarfed hers, and she’d never had dainty hands.

  “Okay.”

  What a lovely dream. Saying it made it feel better, but it was all fairy tale talk. She wouldn’t end up with a biker, and he wouldn’t give up that life to keep her. But for right then, she’d say anything.

  “It’s not that I don’t care,” she said carefully, bringing her eyes up to his. “Because ... I do. This situation is too much.”

  “I know, baby.” That stomach flop again. “Take your time. But come back. I won’t let any of this hurt you. I’ll make it so people don’t make you feel like shit. Okay?”

  Again, what a wonderful dream.

  “Okay, Fritter,” she agreed, nodding. Just to get him out of the house, she was sure. Mostly.

  “Take care, okay? But don’t turn tail and run. You’re not that kind of woman.”

  Yes, she was. She absolutely was. But she wanted him out of there before she lost the will to get the fuck out of town and the strength to deal with her parents.

  “Call me when you get there, baby. And trust me to handle all this. I’ll make it so no one dares to look at you sideways.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, again, and this time he kissed her cheek then circled around her to the doorway. She turned to watch him, then caught Jayce leaning against the corner of the wall separating the entry from the living room. His eyes were on hers, and the look was unsettling.

  “You’re not coming back,” he said quietly, as the door banged shut. “Are you?”

  With a deep breath she decided to perpetuate the lie. “I will. Eventually.”

  Jayce shook his head. “You’re running. Because of this.”

  “Think about it, Jayce,” she hissed. “How can I be around here? Go to the store? Fill up the car at the gas station? Knowing what everyone’s thinking?”

  “It’d be hell,” he admitted, then he jerked his head at the door. “But that guy would be a human shield for you. I was ready to take his head off for putting us in this situation. I wanted his kutte, his patch.”

  That shocked her.

  “But now ...” Jayce shook his head. “That’s a man that cares about you.”

  “Damnit, why does everyone suddenly know what’s best when they’ve known about us for all of five minutes?” she basically screeched.

  “There’s nothing to be scared of,” Jayce had the nerve to chuckle. “Why are you fighting him so hard?”

  She bit her tongue. “Get out of my house. I have to pack.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “So, gentleman, I’m sure you can appreciate that it was a real fucking shock to find out a group we trusted was getting in bed with law enforcement.” Anthony Guidinger didn’t get spitting mad, but it was a barely contained rage that still caused spit to fly out of his mouth anyway.

  It took seven hours for this greasy son of a bitch to find out about the video and slide his ass down to Markham. Now he stood in their clubhouse giving them a dressing down. Fritter could tell by his brothers’ postures none of them liked this any more than he did.

  “We’ve never had a beef with law enforcement,” Jayce snapped back. “They’ve never been onto us, our allies, or our enemies. You got nothing to be yelling at me for.”

  Guidinger raised one eyebrow. “You don’t think so?”

  “You got any proof we’ve been pillow talking?”

  That hung Guidinger up for a couple of seconds, then the son of bitch had the nerve to laugh.

  That made Fritter’s jaw clench, and his left eye twitched a bit, but Guidinger cackled on like the host of a cocktail party or some shit. “Fuck. I’ve seen clubs pay off sheriffs and deputies from here to Oregon. I do think this is the first time I’ve seen a sheriff paid in cock.”

  That spiked the twitch right into a convulsion, and one look at Jayce told him not to argue. Just go along with it. And as Guidinger turned to him Fritter knew that was the test.

  “So. How many you got on your payroll there, young buck?”

  Fritter forced the smile, knowing that would make it look bitter. Hopefully, indifferent as well. “Just the one,” he assured Guidinger. “Only one sheriff we need to worry about in Markham. She’s a lot more economically feasible, given the size of the county.”

  Guidinger threw his head back and laughed. Fritter wasn’t sure why that was so hilarious but he kept the smile in place. Buck, on his left, shifted his feet, and to his right Tank ran a hand over his filling-in hair. No one was joining the hilarity but that didn’t matter to this cologne-soaked weasel.

  “Good work then, son.” Guidinger clapped a hand on his shoulder, and Fritter made a show of being unmovable. Guidinger reacted, but only slightly. The twinkle went out of his eyes, and he turned to Jayce again.

  “You’re a man that uses his assets for the talents they have. Like lover boy, here. So now I want to borrow a different asset from you.”

  “What? Be warned. I don’t think you’re Fritter’s type and there’s only so much I’d ask a guy to do.”

  Guidinger gave one short, humorless guffaw. “We’ve been doing research on your club. You have a varied group here. I know you pick ‘em carefully, and you’re also smart with the shit you take on. You know your limits and your strengths.”

  “What’s this about?” Jayce asked, tilting his head the other way and sighing while he asked it. “Just come out with it.”

  “Him.” Guidinger snapped his fingers and his voice as his arm shot out, finger extended and pointed right at Knuckles.

  Knuckles just raised one eyebrow.

  “That man. I need him.”

  Jayce frowned. “For what?”

  “We are making inroads with suppliers down this way, jobs that you will be the best equipped to handle for me. But first, here and there, we have a few road blocks to remove. I need someone quiet. Stealthy. Who won’t give a fuck who or what they’re taking out.”

  Jayce swallowed, his eyes flicking to Knuckles. “It’s up to him.”

  “Nuh uh,” Guidinger broke in, all lightness gone from his tone. “You’re the president. You tell him what to do.” Now Guidinger’s finger swung Fritter’s way and it took everything he had not to rush the bastard and bite it off. “That stunt has made Do
n Sachetti very nervous about this club, but he trusts me. I can go to him and tell him it’s not a concern, or I can go to him and suggest we scrape you and your little band of misfits off.”

  “These would all be hits sanctioned by Sachetti?” Jayce asked, not sounding like he quite believed it.

  “Of course. I’d be happy to tell him how eager you were to help him grow his empire, too. How it was your idea. An apology for the indiscretion with the sheriff.”

  Shit. This was all on him. Fritter felt a bad taste in his mouth.

  “I’ll do it,” Knuckles said, pulling the toothpick from the edge of his mouth.

  “We gotta talk about this.”

  Knuckles cut his Prez off. “He’s threatening us. He thinks he’s doing it cute but it’s a pussy ass threat. I don’t got time to sit here and listen to this bullshit. I do this, we keep working for Sachetti. I’ll do it.” Knuckles planted the toothpick and between his lips, hands sliding into the front pockets of his jeans.

  Jayce’s jaw was working, but Guidinger was already talking. “See? He’s an effective killer and smart. That’s why you picked him, McClune.” Now he leaned into Jayce. “For each hit he gets a payment. Not the club, and it won’t be as big as most. But I figure we get a discount, since you owe us.” Now Guidinger’s little beady eyes slid over to Fritter. “She’s not going to win the election anyway. I suggest you find out what’ll work for the incoming sheriff and come to an agreement. I don’t know if Turnbull likes cock or not. Even yours, kid.”

  Fritter felt the urge to rush the asshole but Tank had a hand on his shoulder. Guidinger didn’t notice. He was digging into his inside suit coat pocket, pulling an envelope free.

  “Don Sachetti was sorry to hear about the loss of your brother,” he said, suddenly all humble sympathy. “I understand he had a wife?”

  Jayce jerked his chin upwards. “Yeah. Jolene.”

  “This is for her. With Don Sachetti’s compliments.”

  Jayce looked at the envelope. “What?”

  “For the widow. Should she need … anything.”

  Glances were exchanged, then eventually Jayce took the envelope with a nod. “Thanks.”

  With another finger snap Guidinger vacated the clubhouse, taking his two thugs with him. There was a long pause after the door closed to make sure he wasn’t going to ooze right back in again. When it became obvious that wasn’t the case Fritter let out a breath and Jayce shouted, “What the fuck was that?”

  Knuckles took the toothpick out of his mouth. Again. “He’s doing his own shit on the side. None of this is for Sachetti, or if it is, he’ll be in line to take all the credit for himself. That was a big fucking show threatening us, but if Sachetti was done with us he would have either come and laid that shit out on his own, or ...”

  “Or?” Fritter asked.

  “Or they would have come in shooting and killed us all before a word was said.” Knuckles plugged the toothpick back in his cake hole. “Either way, I think he’s fixing to do something he’s going to want to hide from Sachetti. We watch for it, figure it out, we have a card to play later.”

  Fritter was nodding, since that all made sense to him. But then again, he was kind of an idiot and not much of a strategist. “Fuck, Jayce. I’m sorry,” he muttered, then turned to Knuckles. “This is on me, man. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  Knuckles grinned. “Whatever he gives me it’ll still pay better than the US Army did. And honestly, the club needs it. I’ll do it.”

  His stomach still felt like it was trying to work through a clump of mud. He’d fucked this up. A lot, not just a little bit. How he still had his kutte was a fucking mystery to him.

  “No one finds out anything about what goes down so no one can talk,” Knuckles continued, smile slipping. “I’m the only that knows anything. So don’t ask me, because I can’t tell anyone anything. It’s better that way.”

  “I don’t fucking like this,” Tank spoke up, and Knuckles gave the big guy’s arm a jab.

  “It’s no different from anything I’ve done in the past. You point, I go off. Just someone else with the trigger now.”

  “That’s what makes me nervous,” Jayce cut in. “We won’t know the repercussions of what that ass clown has you doing. He could drop you right in the middle of a fresh cartel war and none of us would even know it.”

  “We got no choice,” Knuckles pointed out. “We’re over a barrel here. Sachetti won’t pull his contracts. He’ll put us in jail or the ground. Like I said, if this is all really him. And not that meatball.”

  “You feel anything is off at any time, you pull out. We’ll deal with him at that time if it feels like he’s fucking us.” Jayce chewed his lip, deep in thought. “This all feels really fucking wrong. And that asshole giving us shit on our own turf really pisses me off.” He was thumbing the envelope open.

  “How much is there?” Tank asked.

  Jayce shrugged. “I’m guessing … ten grand?”

  Fritter gave a low whistle.

  “Umm, Jayce?”

  They turned anxiously, making the curvy little blonde, Tessa, jump like they’d shouted. “What?” The Prez replied.

  “I think ... I think something’s wrong with Neenie.”

  “Neenie?” Jayce surveyed the group, confused.

  “New girl,” Tank replied. “She’s only been hanging around a few weeks.”

  “The one with the ink,” Knuckles supplied, running his hand up his arm. Fritter remembered her then. A chick with ink-black hair, parted in the middle and hanging all the way down her back. Svelte to the point of being painful, always wore tight jeans and rock band T-shirts with dog collars and blood red lipstick. Fritter hadn’t fucked her but he knew Knuckles was liking her for whatever it was he did with the more intimidating women.

  Sure enough, it was Knuckles who pushed between Tank and Jayce to approach Tessa. “Where?”

  “Kitchen. She was fine, cutting up lime for the bar. Then she just collapsed.”

  They were moving as a group through the swinging doors behind the bar, Knuckles getting to the slumped form first. Wendy was also crouched next to the girl, holding her hand and slapping her cheek.

  “Is she on shit?” Jayce asked, holding up the girl’s head and slapping her a bit harder.

  “I don’t think so,” Wendy answered calmly.

  “Go get her purse.”

  Wendy nodded and scurried off to obey Jayce’s command. Knuckles crouched on the opposite side, lifting an eyelid. The girl’s eye was pointed straight up, the pupils pinpoints.

  “Fuck. She’s strung out,” Knuckles muttered.

  Buck was already retrieving the garbage can where the lime ends had been tossed. Fritter dropped to his knees behind her as Knuckles pushed her up to a sitting position. With Fritter holding her with an arm across the chest Knuckles took her chin in one hand and shoved his fingers down her throat with the other.

  “Déjà vu,” Tiny muttered from across the way, watching this while casually leaning one hip against the butcher block countertop.

  “No kidding,” Buck mumbled from behind Fritter.

  After a long moment he felt the girl’s body heave, and he pushed her further forward just as her stomach emptied. Knuckles got his hand out of the way just in time, holding her hair back with one fist and pressing his other palm to her forehead.

  “Get it out,” he was cooing, soft and low. “Get rid of all of that, honey.”

  “Who’s checking the new girls?” Jayce asked. It used to be Trinny; she’d watch them, see how they did on party nights then ask the other girls if they saw anything bad. Like, say, drug use.

  “Rose is. She just asked Wendy last week about her, and Wendy said the girl was clean.” That was Tank, speaking as Wendy came wheeling back into the kitchen.

  “She’s got this,” the girl said, breathless from exerting herself with something other than fucking. A baggie was clutched in one hand, and from where he was Fritter recognized the little orange tablets ins
ide.

  “Fuck!” Jayce spat out, snatching the bag away. “Where’d she get this?”

  “She lives in Bakersfield,” Wendy answered immediately.

  “Goddammit.”

  “Jayce,” Knuckles called, looking up at his spitting mad Prez. “She doesn’t do this shit. I don’t know how it got in her, but I know she’s been sober for a couple years.”

  “She an addict?” Jayce snapped back.

  “Yeah,” Knuckles answered. “We talked. She lost a baby three years ago, then she almost OD’d after that. She’s been clean since.”

  “Once an addict always an addict,” Wendy muttered.

  Knuckles’ set his jaw, then after making sure Fritter had Neenie with a head nod he got to his feet. “Is that right? ‘Cause I’m an addict. If I keel over with shit in my system I’d like to think people would be fucking suspicious over how it got there.”

  “Easy,” Buck mumbled, hand on Knuckles’ stomach to back him off. Knuckles’ aggression was a surprise to Fritter but he wasn’t thinking about that. He was mostly relieved that Neenie seemed to be breathing.

  “Guys,” he called out, helping her as she leaned back into his chest, limp and shaking. “She’s awake.”

  Knuckles was back on task, kneeling down again. “Neenie, what the fuck? Why you taking this shit?”

  “Wha-what?”

  Fritter smoothed her hair back, letting her head rest on his collarbone. She was clammy.

  “The Sunshine, doll. Why you taking that shit?”

  “I didn’t,” she whispered weakly.

  “You sure?” Knuckles sounded exactly like an addictions counselor.

  “Wouldn’t do that. Just got my two-year chip.”

  Knuckles met his eye, and Fritter nodded. He believed her, too.

  “We should get her in a bed, and get some water into her.” Knuckles lifted her under both arms and pulled her up to her feet, hooking her arm around his shoulders.

  “If she’s using she can’t stay here,” Jayce cut in, hand out to stop Knuckles.

  “She ain’t using. This is bullshit. Someone slipped her something.”

  “How do you know?” Now it was Buck questioning Knuckles. “I mean, she might have shit going on—”