“You got nothin’ on under that?” I asked in surprise. I dropped my head to the bed as I gave up on my boots and reached for her instead.
“Nope,” she answered, rolling her hips just once. “I figured if I wasn’t wearing a bra, I might as well make it a matched set.”
“You stood up there in front of the entire damn club and said wedding vows with nothin’ on underneath your dress?” I slid my hands under her dress, and ran my fingers over her ass.
“Yep.”
“I think I might love you,” I said, staring up at her smiling face. I froze for a second, pissed that I’d blurted that shit out, but her grin didn’t even flicker.
“Of course you do,” she said, bouncing a little. “Everyone loves me.”
We ended up fucking right there, with my pants around my ankles, boots pressed firmly against the floor and her wedding dress sliding over my skin as she rode me.
* * *
“What about medical insurance?” I asked as I flipped on my blinker.
We’d woken up that morning—yeah, we’d eventually slept—and as soon as we’d checked out of the hotel we’d started going over shit that we probably should have figured out before we’d gotten married. Things like where we’d live, how we’d split expenses, if we wanted a joint bank account or not, and finally insurance.
“I’m on my parents’ plan.”
“Don’t think you can do that once you’re married,” I pointed out, glancing at her. “I’ll put you on mine. We’ve got full coverage.”
She laughed.
“What?”
“You guys have full medical coverage?” she asked through her giggling.
“Yeah, dental, too.”
She laughed even harder.
“It’s a fuckin’ business,” I explained, shaking my head. “The garage has health benefits for the employees—would you knock it off?”
“Sorry,” she gasped, trying to hold a straight face. “Sorry.”
“You’re gonna be happy for it, next time you get a cavity,” I mumbled, making her snort.
“I’ve got awesome teeth,” she informed me, opening her mouth as wide as she could. “See?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I smiled at her and then scowled as red and blue lights started flashing behind me.
Son of a bitch.
“What the hell?” Heather said, turning in her seat as I pulled to the side of the road.
“Turn around,” I ordered, grabbing my wallet and registration. “Don’t say shit.”
“What do you think I’m going to—”
“Not a fuckin’ word, Heather,” I warned as I rolled down my window.
She may have been pulled over before. Hell, knowing her, she may have even been picked up before. But she’d never been pulled over in a car that an Ace was driving.
“License and registration,” the cop said, standing a little bit behind me at the window.
I handed it out with a nod, then set my hands back on the steering wheel as the cop walked back to his car. I didn’t move. Any shift in my position could make the guy nervous, and I sure as shit didn’t want to make him nervous with Heather sitting next to me. I watched him in the rearview mirror, and the minute he stepped back out of his car I fucking knew.
“Take the Nova straight to the clubhouse,” I told Heather as the cop walked back toward us. “And don’t say a motherfuckin’ word to this cop.”
“What?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“Sir, can you step out of the car?” the cop asked.
I took a deep breath and nodded, reaching out the window to open the door from the outside. Jesus Christ, they were picking me up the day after my wedding.
A few minutes later when I was face down on the hood, my hands being cuffed behind me, I was thanking God they’d picked me up the day after my wedding. I wasn’t carrying for the first time in years. Even if they tore the Nova apart they wouldn’t find anything. Everything was squeaky clean.
“Hey, man. Can my wife take the car home?” I asked quietly, staring at Heather through the windshield.
She was crying, one hand over her mouth as she watched the cop help me stand back up.
“Yeah,” the cop answered. He was looking at her, too.
She was still in her wedding dress.
I winked at her as the cop walked me back to his patrol car, and after her initial shock I was surprised when she didn’t jump through the window to throttle me. But that was good. I wanted her mad. She couldn’t sit there on the side of the road crying her eyes out. I needed her to get back to the club and let them know I’d been picked up.
Apparently early that morning a warrant had been put out for my arrest for the murder of Mark Phillips.
I was banking on the fact that, without a body, their case was bullshit.
Chapter 13
Heather
“Let me the fuck inside,” I ordered through my teeth as I rolled up to the gate. “I don’t have time to pop the fucking trunk.”
“You know the rules,” the little jackass on the gate shot back, crossing his arms over his chest.
I looked around for some sort of lever but I had no idea if cars that old even had a trunk-popper thingie. I’d had a hard enough time driving with the fucking manual transmission. I knew how, but it had been years since I’d driven one. Oddly enough, I was pretty sure the last time I’d driven a stick I’d been in the Nova. Mick and I had stolen it and moved it down the street at a party so Tommy couldn’t find it when he wanted to leave. We’d gotten to stay an extra hour that night.
“Fine,” I bitched, climbing out of the Nova and stomping around to the back. I unlocked the trunk and threw it open, gesturing like a game show host and making the jackass roll his eyes.
“You’re good,” he announced with a nod, slamming the trunk closed again.
“I told you that,” I growled, climbing back into the car. “Now open the fucking gate.”
The Nova kicked up gravel as I made my way to the clubhouse, but I was too rattled to slow down. I’d heard the policeman reading Tommy his rights. Somehow they’d gotten enough evidence that they were able to arrest him for murdering Mark Phillips.
When Tommy had told me they’d never find the body, I’d believed him. He’d seemed sure. But I was terrified they’d found something else, some security footage or a fingerprint or a journal or something that would tie the two of them together. I had no idea what had even happened, so I couldn’t speculate on what they might have found. Not knowing was terrifying.
“You okay?” the old guy Poet asked as I pulled to a stop and jumped out of the car. He was sitting on one of the picnic tables, but as soon as he saw the look on my face he pushed slowly to his feet. “Girl, you need help?”
“Grease?” I asked, looking around at the deserted parking lot. “Dragon? Grease? Casper?”
“Boys are inside, lass,” he said gently, striding toward me. “Come on, now.”
He placed his hand on my back and led me toward the open front door. As soon as we were inside he walked me toward the bar and tried to get me to sit down, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t wait.
“Give me a moment,” he said firmly, nodding at me to stay put.
He rounded the bar and knocked on the door behind it before poking his head inside the room and saying something I couldn’t hear. Then he swung the door open and took a step back as the men inside came out in a wave: Grease, Dragon, Hulk, Will, Casper, and a guy they called Samson.
“Heather? Where’s Tom?” Will asked, stopping across the bar from me.
“He-he,” I stuttered a little and swallowed hard. “They arrested him.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” Poet muttered from somewhere behind me.
“They pulled us over,” I babbled, finding Grease in the middle of the group and meeting his eyes. “I don’t know why. We weren’t going too fast or anything. And Tommy used his blinker. I know he did, because I always notice things like that and—”
“Breathe,” Grease ordered sof
tly.
I inhaled deeply and squeezed my hands together. “They pulled us over, and then the cop went to run Tommy’s registration, and Tommy must have known something was up because before the cop got back he told me to take the car and come straight here and you’d know what to do.”
I burst into tears as soon as I’d finished speaking.
“But what the fuck did they arrest him for?” Casper asked in confusion, raising his voice above my sobs.
“For murdering Mark Phillips,” I rasped, raising my eyes to the men.
“Who the fuck is Mark Phillips?” Casper asked, clearly irritated he didn’t know what the hell was going on.
“That teacher from the high school that went missing,” Will muttered, scratching at his beard. “Why the fuck would they try to pin that on Tommy?”
All of their eyes eventually landed on me, and I froze like a bunny surrounded by a pack of wolves. “I have no idea,” I blurted, digging my nails into my palms.
“We need a fuckin’ lawyer,” Dragon grumbled, reaching up to grab a bottle of whiskey off the shelf behind the bar. He twisted off the cap and took a deep pull before setting down a shot glass in front of me and filling it to the rim. “Drink it. You’re shakin’ like a leaf.”
I picked up the shot and took it without protest, only spilling a little on my hand. Then I set it on the bar and slid it toward him. He filled it again and I nodded my thanks as I threw it back.
“How the fuck are we supposed to know anythin’ if we don’t have a goddamn lawyer?” Grease asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the bar.
“Well now, I can make a few calls,” Poet said, patting his pockets as he walked away.
“He do it?” Hulk asked the group quietly.
“Where there’s smoke,” Casper mumbled, digging his fingers into his eye sockets. “Question is, can they prove it?”
* * *
Hours later, we were gathered around the bar once again. I’d curled up in Tommy’s bed for as long as I could, inhaling the familiar scent of his sheets, but the minute I’d heard the guys congregating in the main room I’d left my safe haven.
“Talked to Nix,” Poet announced. “Set me up with a friend. Attorney outta Portland. Says he’s good.”
“You know anything about this guy?” Casper asked.
“Just that my boy says he’s good people,” Poet replied.
“Wait,” I blurted. “Who’s Nix?”
“Poet’s wife’s kid,” Will answered me as the guys continued with their conversation.
“Well, we’ll feel him out when he gets here,” Dragon said with a nod. “He headin’ down?”
“When I called he said he’d be down Monday morning for the arraignment,” Poet replied.
“Cuttin’ it close,” Grease muttered.
“Nothin’ he can do before that,” Poet pointed out.
The phone rang behind the bar and I startled. I hadn’t even realized there was a phone there. Everyone was always using their cellphones.
“Yeah?” Hulk answered. He paused for a minute. “You wanna talk to your pop? Alright, she’s right here.”
His eyes met mine and my heart started to race. “Tommy,” he called, wiggling the phone back and forth.
I slipped off my stool and raced around the bar, sliding in something on the floor and barely catching myself before I wiped out. I took the phone from Hulk and inhaled deeply.
“Hello?”
“Hey, sugar.”
My eyes immediately started to water.
“Hey,” I whispered back, turning so my back to the men. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Done this shit before.”
“Yeah, but—”
“They monitor these calls, baby.”
“Oh.” My mouth snapped shut.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I’m with your dad.” I glanced over my shoulder to find Grease watching me.
“Good. Why don’t you stay with my parents tonight?”
“What? No.” I scoffed.
“Don’t want you home alone.”
“I lived there alone for months before your happy ass moved in.”
“Heather, can you just sleep there tonight?” he asked. “Don’t wanna worry about you, alright?”
It had only been hours since I’d seen him, but the exhaustion in his voice was clear. I immediately felt like shit for arguing with him about something that didn’t even matter.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “I’ll stay with your parents tonight.”
“Thanks, baby.” He sighed. “I only got a minute. Can you put my dad on?”
“Sure.” I turned around and motioned for Grease to come take the phone. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” I said to Tommy. “Here’s your dad.”
As soon as I’d handed the phone to Grease I wanted to snatch it right back. Tommy was right there, on the other end of the line, and I hated that he was talking to someone else. I wanted to hear his voice again. I wanted to hear the sound of him breathing and the rustle of his clothes.
It was crazy how close we’d grown. I hadn’t even realized how much I’d come to depend on him until he was suddenly out of reach. Somehow, in the midst of our secrets and deceptions he’d become my person. Like he’d said before, we were a team.
I walked to a couch across the room, ignoring the conversation happening at the bar. They weren’t discussing anything I needed to know. Tommy was stuck in jail until Monday, but we’d found him a lawyer. I bent over and rested my forehead on my knees, letting out a shuddering breath.
There wasn’t anything we could do until Monday.
“Come on,” Grease called, walking toward me. “Thomas said you’re stayin’ with us tonight.”
I lifted my head from my knees and then straightened completely as Grease got closer. “I can drive the Nova over there—” my words trailed off as Grease made a noise in the back of his throat.
“Even if my son hadn’t told me not to let ya drive the Nova, hearin’ the prospects laugh about how you were grindin’ gears woulda convinced me to keep ya away from her,” he said in amusement. “You can ride with me. Brought the truck in today since I thought I’d be haulin’ shit to the dump.”
“Are you sure it’s okay with Callie?” I asked as I got to my feet.
Callie had always been nice to me and she’d practically invited me to live with them when I was a kid, but things were different now. She no longer had a house full of kids at any given moment, and I wasn’t a teenager anymore, looking for a home cooked meal and a mother that paid attention.
“Yeah, it’s all good,” he replied gruffly, leading me outside. “I texted her when I got off the phone with Tommy. She knows you’re comin’.”
I nodded uncomfortably. As soon as we got outside I grabbed my purse out of the Nova and followed Grease to the little pickup he was driving. It was missing the front bumper and was two different colors like someone had slapped two trucks together and decided it was finished.
“It ain’t pretty, but it runs,” Grease announced as we climbed inside the truck.
The interior smelled a little like feet, and there were fast food wrappers all over the floorboard, giving me a pretty clear view of where Tommy had picked up his disgusting habits.
“You need to clean out your truck,” I mumbled, pulling my seatbelt on. “This is disgusting.”
“I want your opinion, I’ll let ya know,” he replied dryly.
“Seriously,” I continued, like he hadn’t even spoken. “This must be a hazard. One of these wadded up Taco Bell bags could roll to your floorboard and get wedged under the brake pedal or something.”
“I’ll take my chances,” he said.
“I can’t.” I shook my head and searched around my seat, finally finding a crumpled up grocery bag between my seat and the door. “God, you gotta stop eating this shit,” I mumbled. “Do you see this? It doesn’t even mold!” I lifted up a breakfast sandwich and banged it a
gainst the dash.
“How the hell did I forget what a pain in the ass you were?” he asked, glancing at me.
“We tend to block out the bad shit,” I replied, making a sound of disgust as I found an open ketchup packet on the floorboard. “Which is hopefully what I’m going to do the minute I step out of this truck.”
“How the hell does my son put up with your shit?” he asked. “You bitch at him constantly?”
“No.” I snorted. “He’s easy to train.”
Grease laughed. “All men are easy to train if their women know how to do it. Shit,” he drew out the last word. “Callie’s got me wrapped around her fuckin’ finger. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“You guys have been together since you were kids, right?” I asked, picking up something unidentifiable off the floorboard.
“Yep.” We flew around a corner and I swayed to the side, cursing. “Callie was younger than you. I was around Tommy’s age.”
“See, and you guys made it work,” I pointed out. He was being nice to me, but I couldn’t forget the asshole he’d been, and I had some sort of defect in my personality that made me unable to let shit go.
“Shit was different back then,” he replied. “When Callie and me hooked up, it wasn’t some big romance. Shit was goin’ down and she needed me. Grew from there.”
“Still,” I mumbled. “You didn’t have to be such a dick about it.”
I hadn’t ever learned the art of self-preservation either. Clearly.
“You come back to me after you have kids,” he barked, not even glancing in my direction. “You raise ’em since they were babies, and when your son comes to tell you he’s getting’ married to a bitch he’s been with for less than a week, you let me know how you react.”
“Fair enough.” I leaned back and looked over the now clean floorboard as I tied the top of the grocery bag. “But a little diplomacy would have been nice.” I dropped the bag and looked at him. “And don’t call me a bitch.”
“I’ll call you anything I want,” he retorted stubbornly.
“No, you won’t.” I crossed my arms and stared out the windshield. We were almost to his house. “Your wife likes me and I’m married to your son. You don’t want to piss me off.”