CHAPTER TWO
Ten minutes later, I couldn’t stop wondering what Ruger meant by the word “accident.”
Were they planning a fatal “accident”?
I told myself it wasn’t my problem. Miranda’s fate was set the moment Noah called Ruger, crying and begging for help—totally beyond my control. Telling myself that worked for about half an hour, and then my conscience kicked in.
If Ruger and Horse weren’t planning to kill someone, why did they need a bat and duct tape? Those weren’t constructive-discussion-about-what-you-did-wrong supplies. Those were killing-someone-
and-hiding-the-body supplies. The only thing missing was a box of big black garbage bags. I’d seen Dexter. I knew these things.
Miranda deserved serious payback for Noah, but she didn’t deserve to die. I didn’t need that kind of
karma.
I called Ruger’s cell. He didn’t answer.
Then I crept across the hall and knocked on the door. There weren’t any screams or anything
coming from inside. Good sign or bad? Hard to tell—this was my first felony and I didn’t know the proper procedure. I heard boots crossing the creaky wooden floor.
“It’s me,” I said, pitching my voice low. “Can you come out for a sec? I really need to talk, Ruger.”
“Ruger’s busy,” Horse replied through the door. “We’ll be done here soon. Go get packed and take
care of your boy. We got this.”
I tried the knob. Locked.
“Seriously, Sophie, go back to your place.”
I backed away from the door. Now what?
The open window at the end of the hall caught my eye. The fire escape. Ruger had used it to get into my apartment, and Miranda’s place was a mirror of mine. Maybe I could get in that way to make sure everything was all right?
I ducked back into my studio for a quick check on Noah, closing and locking my own window while
I was at it. Thankfully, he was still totally out. Not a surprise, given the night we’d had. I slipped
through the door and locked it, then walked over to the hall window and stuck my head out to scope
the situation.
Sure enough, the narrow iron landing stretched from my window and across the hallway before
stopping under hers. I put my leg through cautiously and stepped onto the platform, making it creak. I glanced down and swallowed.
Never been a huge fan of heights.
I held the rail with one hand, trailing the other along the brick wall until I reached her closed
window. I crouched low, peeking through. Miranda wasn’t much of a decorator, so she didn’t have real blinds, just a filmy, translucent scarf she’d tacked over the pane. Details might be a little fuzzy, but I could still see clearly enough.
Her boyfriend lay facedown on the floor, hands bound tightly behind his back with duct tape.
They’d wrapped his feet, too, with more tape around his head—like they’d decided to shut his mouth and just kept going. Blood trailed from a cut on his forehead and dripped out of his nose. Bruises were forming along his ribs. He seemed to be unconscious.
Ruger stood over him, aluminum bat in one hand, cell phone in the other.
Miranda knelt in the middle of the room, hands taped tight just like her man’s. More duct tape
covered her mouth and she wore a sleazy nightgown that was probably supposed to look sexy. Horse
lounged casually across from her, leaning against the wall. He seemed bored.
I sighed with relief. I’d been crazy to think they’d actually butcher two people in cold blood. That
didn’t happen in real life. Sure, whatever was going on in there didn’t look fun, but I could live with
that.
Ruger hung up his phone and shoved it into his pocket. He said something to Horse. Horse shrugged and must’ve cracked some sort of joke, because Ruger laughed. Then the big man walked over to
Miranda, knelt down, and ripped the strip of silver off her face. Her lips quivered as she asked him a question. He shook his head as he replied, and she started trembling so hard I could see it from across the room and through the curtain.
Then things got bad.
Horse reached around and pulled an ugly black handgun out of the back of his jeans. I watched in
frozen horror as he cocked the slider-thingy on top, clearly preparing to shoot. Then he said something else to Miranda.
Tears ran down her face as she slowly opened her mouth.
Horse nudged her lips wider with the barrel of his gun, pushing it in. Holy f*ck. HOLY F*ck.
I jumped up and pounded on the window with both hands, screaming at them to stop.
Ruger spun around, moving so fast I couldn’t follow. Within seconds he’d ripped open the window
and jerked me into the room. The sash crashed down again as he wrapped his arms around me, pinning
me to the front of his body, my back to his stomach. I tried to scream again, but his hand slammed
across my mouth.
The bat clattered as it rolled across the wooden floor.
Miranda’s eyes darted toward me, full of desperate hope that quickly melted when neither man moved. Then Horse spoke.
“Time’s up, sugar. Usually people close their eyes. Your call.”
Miranda moaned, shutting her eyes tight and visibly bracing her body. Horse glanced up, smiled, and blew me a kiss.
Then he pulled the trigger.
RUGER
Sophie exploded in his arms, thrashing furiously. Her bitch of a neighbor screamed and fell back on the floor, flopping around dramatically.
Neither seemed to notice the f*cking gun hadn’t been loaded.
Ruger fought to control the banshee in his arms, hating Horse because the bastard just stood there, smirking at him like the smug, cocksucking a*shole he’d always been. Seriously, a goddamned kiss? Sick f*ck. One of Sophie’s heels lashed back and caught him in the shin. When he grunted, she kicked the same spot again. Savagely.
“Fifty bucks says your baby mama could take you in a fair fight,” Horse taunted.
Miranda’s shrieking suddenly stopped and she froze, opening her eyes to look around in stunned confusion.
Finally, dumbass had noticed she wasn’t dead.
Sophie stilled and Ruger’s aching shin rejoiced.
“Feel like I’m repeatin’ myself here,” he muttered in her ear. “But if I move my hand, you better keep quiet. Got me?”
She nodded her head tightly.
Ruger let go and Sophie jerked away. Fast as a snake, her hand flashed out and slapped him across the face, which f*cking hurt.
Damn.
“You bastard,” she hissed. “You scared the crap out of me! What kind of sadist pulls shit like this?”
“The kind interested in making a lasting impression?” Ruger asked, cocking his head at her. “Jesus,
did you want us to kill her?”
Sophie’s face twisted and her mouth opened, but before anything came out, the bitch on the floor
started crying. Loud. Ruger had come to realize Miranda did everything loud. Horse leaned forward
and caught Miranda’s arms, jerking her up and onto her knees. He caught her chin, forcing her to meet
his gaze.
“We do this again, a bullet comes out and pulps your brain. Got me?”
She nodded frantically, her sobs even noisier than before. How was that even possible? Then Ruger caught the unmistakable smell of piss and sighed. Sure enough, she’d left a puddle.
“Every f*ckin’ time,” he muttered. Horse snorted.
“p-ssy.”
“I can’t believe you guys,” Sophie said, clenching and unclenching her hands, shaking with
adrenaline. She was so angry she’d forgotten to be afraid. He actually liked that about her—Sophie
had grit. But right now she was getting on his nerves. They had a lot to do and limited time before the
Jacks showed up. “I thought you were killing her. She thought you were killing her. How can you do
this?”
“We wanted to catch her attention,” Ruger replied, temper fraying. “Near-death experiences tend to stick with a person. Next time she’ll make better choices.”
Sophie opened her mouth, then snapped it shut and glared.
The sound of tape ripping cut the air as Horse covered Miranda’s mouth again. Thank f*ck for that.
Ruger was tired of her noise, he was exhausted from driving all night, and he was hungry.
“Go back next door, Sophie,” he said, rubbing a hand through his short hair. He caught a whiff of
his own scent when he raised his arm. Nasty. He’d have to shower at her place before they left for
Coeur d’Alene. “We won’t go crazy, I promise. But don’t forget, Noah spent more than an hour hiding on the fire escape last night. Four stories up, Sophie. Your babysitter’s man is a registered sex
offender, by the way. Bitch knew it, too. She still invited him over while she had a kid at her place.
Don’t feel sorry for either of them.”
Sophie’s eyes widened.
“How do you know all that?”
Horse answered.
“They told us.”
“I wouldn’t think sex offenders go around sharing that kind of information,” she said, suddenly
wary.
“We’re very persuasive people,” Ruger told her. “You just gotta ask the questions right. Go home,
Soph. We need to finish up here and get you moved out. I’m tired, honey.”
“This is all wrong. I feel like an accomplice,” Sophie replied, shaking her head. “I don’t like it.”
For f*ck’s sake … She hadn’t been too worried about being an “accomplice” when she pointed out
Miranda’s place earlier. Little late to be complaining at this point in the game.
Enough.
“Really? You don’t like it? Personally, I don’t like the idea of the next kid getting raped just
because he isn’t smart enough to hide on the fire escape,” Ruger said, stepping slowly into her space and backing her toward the wall. “How ’bout this? You go ahead and feel guilty about being an
accomplice, and I’ll go ahead and keep doing your dirty work so you don’t break a f*ckin’ nail or
something. Then tonight we’ll open a bottle of wine and talk about how today made us feel. Maybe eat some chocolate while we’re at it, then watch The Notebook together. That work for you?”
She hit the wall and he leaned forward, slapping his hands flat on either side of her head. Ruger
dropped his face into hers, eyes blazing.
“Shit, Sophie—I think I’m showin’ extreme patience, all things considered. This is not a f*ckin’
joke. Noah made it through last night because he stayed awake and alert on that fire escape, not
because either of these f*cks lifted a finger to help him. They terrorized a little boy and laughed about it. Now it’s their turn. Don’t expect me to feel bad about that. Go. Home.”
Sophie swallowed, eyes wide. She stayed quiet as she slowly slid down and out from under the barrier of his arms, skirting the edge of the room until she reached the door. She slipped through, closing it behind her very softly.
Ruger glanced over at Horse, who raised a brow. Great. Now he’d catch shit from him, too. “Your baby mama’s kinda hot when she’s pissed,” Horse said helpfully.
“Jesus, Horse. You got no sense of boundaries, you know that?”
“Yup,” he replied, and Ruger seriously considered taking the bat and smashing the bastard’s face in. Of course, then he’d have Horse’s old lady to deal with … Bitch was a damned good shot.
Miranda fell over with a thump, eyes wide. They looked down at her.
“What should we do with this one?” Horse asked. “I want her out of our faces, but I gotta say, don’t like the idea of leaving her here for the Jacks when they come to pick up their problem child.” He jerked his chin toward the still-unconscious man on the floor.
“Let her go right before we take off?” Ruger suggested. He walked over and nudged her with his foot. “Hey, Miranda. We cut that tape off in a couple hours, we need to worry about you sharing this little adventure with anyone? ’Cause that would put me in a real bad mood.”
She shook her head violently.
“You sure?” Horse asked. “If it’s a problem, we’ll figure out something else for you. Saw an empty
lot not too far from here. Wonder how long it’ll take before some construction worker digs up your
body.”
Miranda grunted, eyes wide.
“I’m gonna assume that means you’ll keep your mouth shut,” Ruger said, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck. Muscles were way too tight back there. “Oh, somethin’ else you should know. It’s not just us you’d be dealing with if you talk. There’s a hundred and thirty-four brothers in the club. Generally, I’m considered one of the nicer ones.”
“True story,” Horse chimed in. “F*ck with us, we’ll f*ck you back. Harder. Always.” She nodded frantically.
“Sounds like a plan,” Horse said. He glanced over at the man on the floor and then caught Ruger’s eye. “Might wanna tell your baby mama that the next time she has a run-in with a guy from another club, she should give us a heads-up before we go in. This could’ve been ugly.”
“She doesn’t get it—not ink, not cuts, nothing. She may have seen his tats, but she didn’t know what they meant. Tape,” Ruger said. Horse tossed it over and Ruger crouched down next to the woman.
“Legs together, bitch. It’ll be a new experience for you.”
She obeyed, and he started wrapping tape tight around her ankles.
“You were still in Afghanistan when Sophie and Zach’s shit went down,” Ruger told Horse. “But trust me, it got ugly, and we didn’t exactly socialize after that. She hates me, she hates the club, and the only reason she puts up with the situation is that she loves Noah too much to take away the only man in his life. Sucks for him, but I’m the best he’s got.”
“Sounds like she’s a bitch,” Horse said. “Rumor is, you saved her ass. F*ckin’ knight in shining
armor. Might wanna trade your bike in for a pretty pink unicorn to ride, seein’ as you’re such a special
snowflake and all.”
“Shut the f*ck up, a*shole,” Ruger replied. “I saved her, but I also lost my shit on her in a big way, at a time she couldn’t handle it. Not that it matters now. Long story short, she knows jack about club colors or how we live. She didn’t mention the back patch because she’s f*ckin’ clueless.”
“If I could offer a suggestion?” Horse asked.
“No.”
“You gotta tell her what to expect, help her understand club life before she f*cks up again,” he said. “Save yourself an assload of trouble down the line. Trust me on this, bro. Breaking in a civilian like
Sophie as your old lady is rough enough. Don’t make it harder than it needs to be. Also, she’s got a
helluva mouth on her. What happens in private is one thing, but she can’t pull that kind of shit at the
Armory. You know it’s true.”
Ruger snorted, dropping the tape as he finished wrapping Miranda’s legs. Why had he brought Horse? Anyone would’ve been less annoying … even Painter, despite the fact the kid probably couldn’t find his own dick in the shower, let alone pin down a woman.
Unfortunately, only Horse had been both sober and stupid enough to answer his phone in the middle of the night.
“This’ll be hard for your tiny little brain to process, so listen carefully,” Ruger said, rising to his
feet and tossing the tape onto the couch. “One, she’s not my baby mama, so stop calling her that. Only funny the first fifty times. Two, I’m not plannin’ to make her my property. I’m helpin’ out because she’s Noah’s mom and for all practical purposes he’s my son. I’ll keep an eye on her for his sake, but she’s a free agent. I doubt she’ll ever set foot in the Armory, no matter what I tell her.”
“Bullshit.”
“Not bullshit,” Ruger snapped. “She doesn’t want me, a*shole. Trust me, I have reason to know this.
Our history is f*ckin’ complicated—way too complicated for a dumbass cocksucker like you to
understand.”
“You struck out,” Horse declared, a slow grin stealing across his face. “And you’re still drivin’
across the state in the middle of the night so you can set her up in your house? You are well and truly screwed, brother.”
“I didn’t strike out,” Ruger replied, eyes narrow. “It wasn’t like that. And I don’t think of her that
way.”
“Here’s a suggestion for future reference, then,” Horse said. “Try jerking off before answering the
door if you want me to believe you don’t think of her that way. Wood like you were sportin’ usually
implies the opposite. Unless it was for me? If that’s the case, I’m genuinely flattered. No judgments.”
“Why hasn’t Marie shot you yet?”
“Because I’m not in denial about what my cock wants,” Horse replied. “I piss her off, I get no
p-ssy. Watch and learn. Now let’s get them locked down and start hauling your girl’s shit out to the truck. Jacks’ll be here in a couple more hours, and I don’t particularly care to stay and discuss
techniques for removing dumbasses’ ink with them. What kind of suicidal idiot doesn’t black out his tats when his club cuts him loose?”
“Well, he joined the Devil’s Jacks in the first place,” Ruger replied, shrugging. “That doesn’t say much for his intelligence. Hope he has health insurance. Probably gonna need it.”
“Only if he’s lucky. So tell me, brother. How many times you seen The Notebook? ’Cause that’s
information the boys back home are gonna need to know.”
“A*shole.”
SOPHIE
Noah slurped down his cereal, hopping in his chair like a bouncy ball.
“We’re going to Uncle Ruger’s today, right? Do you think he has Skylanders?”
“Yup, we’re going to Uncle Ruger’s. No idea about the Skylanders, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” I replied. My rush of adrenaline had died down, making it harder to sustain any real anger. Instead I surveyed my studio and finally admitted the truth.
The place was a total shithole. Not only that, I had no excuse for not putting on the window alarms. They sold them at the Dollar Store, for God’s sake.
I didn’t like letting Ruger win, but reality was on his side. I was broke, I’d lost my job, and I couldn’t protect my own child. Waiting tables hadn’t paid enough to support us anyway, and I wouldn’t have been working there in the first place if I’d had better offers. My folks certainly wouldn’t help. I’d been dead to them ever since I refused to “terminate” Noah.
Turning down a safe, free apartment would be insane.
I still wasn’t quite ready to forgive Ruger, though. Intellectually that didn’t make a whole lot of
sense. Sure, he’d been a dick to me. He’d also dropped everything to drive hundreds of miles and save Noah when he’d needed help. The two should probably balance each other out, if I wanted to be fair. Not only that, Ruger had made a point I couldn’t shake.
I really didn’t want to do my own dirty work.
Ruger and Horse had assessed the situation, made a tough call, and fixed things. And that was a huge relief. Ultimately, I’d gotten mad at Ruger for scaring me, not for scaring Miranda. Well, that and his bullying.
He could’ve just talked to me about moving to Coeur d’Alene instead of playing creeper man in the
night.
“We have to pack before we leave,” I said as Noah finished up his cereal. He carried his bowl
carefully to the sink, spoon teetering. “We aren’t just going for a visit, we’ll be living there for a
while. I’m going to get most of your stuff, but I want you to pick out some jammies and clothes to
wear tomorrow. Tuck them in your backpack. You should also grab some books to read in the car,
okay?”
“Okay,” Noah replied, dragging his bag out from under his bed. He didn’t seem bothered at the
thought, which said a lot about our existence. He’d moved at least once a year his entire life. I shook my head, feeling the familiar weight of guilt settle over me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t
seem to get it right.
I rinsed out his bowl and put on some coffee. Then I grabbed a box to start packing. “Want some music?” I asked Noah.
“My pick?”
“Sure,” I said, handing him my phone. He plugged it into our little speaker set like an expert. Here Comes Science started playing, and after a few minutes we were both singing along about the elements and the elephants. As kid stuff went, it wasn’t too bad. Beat the hell out of Disney crap.
We didn’t actually own much, so packing wasn’t hard. Coffee helped. Three boxes of stuff for
Noah. Two boxes for me, plus a suitcase. I had to stand on a chair to take down our big tie-dyed wall hanging. We’d made it together last summer, on one of those glorious days where the sun is so bright and beautiful you don’t even consider making your kid go in at bedtime. I used it to wrap the framed family portrait I’d splurged on when Noah was three.
Then I looked around the room—not much left. Just the kitchen and bathroom stuff … Packing up two lives should take more than an hour, I thought wistfully. I decided to take a quick shower before clearing out the bathroom.
“Don’t open the door unless it’s Uncle Ruger or his friend,” I told Noah, emptying the coffeepot into my mug. “You cool with that?”
“I’m not a child,” he replied, offering me a look of genuine disgust. “I’ll be in second grade soon.”
“Okay, seeing as you’re an adult, you go ahead and finish up out here. Make sure I haven’t missed something,” I replied. “I’ll wash up fast.”
I shut the door and pulled off my clothes. The room was small, but at least we had a tub.
Unfortunately, the hot-water situation wasn’t too great—one of the joys of living on the top floor of a
building with shared boilers. I showered quickly, grabbing a towel as I stepped out, dripping all over
my dirty laundry. I dried off and wrapped the towel around my head before reaching for my clean
clothes. They weren’t there. I’d already packed them all up without giving it a second thought.
Well, crap.
I heard Ruger’s voice in the apartment. Wasn’t that just perfect? I grabbed a second towel and wrapped it around my body, opening the door a crack.
“Noah, can you come here?” I called.
“He’s downstairs with Horse. Wanted to help load the truck,” Ruger answered. He strolled toward the bathroom, all lean and tall and full of controlled strength. A great big killer cat. He stopped
outside the door and crossed his muscular arms, eyes dark with something I couldn’t interpret.
Memories of those arms around me earlier flashed through my head and I flushed … Stupid. Ruger was a dead end, at least in terms of a relationship, and I sure as hell didn’t want a booty call. Okay, that was a lie. I’d love a good booty call. Just not with a guy I’d still have to deal with ten years from now. My hormones needed to find something else to obsess about.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I forgot clean clothes,” I told him, considering my strategy. “You mind stepping outside for a sec? I’ll get dressed fast.”
“You gonna give me crap about coming to Coeur d’Alene?” he asked, raising a brow in challenge. Great. I’d gotten over my snit, but clearly he hadn’t.
“No.”
“You wanna bitch me out for what happened next door?” “No.”
“That’s a fast turnaround.”
“I don’t have a lot of choice,” I admitted, forcing myself not to grit my teeth. “It’s not what I’d
pick, but it’s better than staying here. And you win—I didn’t want to do my own dirty work. I’m glad you did it for me. Happy?”
“You say that like it hurts.”
It did hurt. The man was like a cheese grater on my skin.
“Just let me grab something to wear, Ruger. You won. Don’t rub it in.” He laughed, the sound harsh.
“Glad you figured that out,” he said. “Life’s easier when you have help, like it or not. I’ll dig something out for you. Suitcase?”
“That’s okay—” I started, but he’d already turned and grabbed the bag, flopping it on the now-
naked bed to unzip it. I swallowed as he began digging around. Not that I had anything to hide, but I didn’t like him touching my things. Way too intimate.
“Nice,” Ruger said, turning back toward me, dangling a black, lacy push-up bra from one finger. The side of his mouth twitched and those dark eyes warmed. “You should wear this one.”
“Put it down, Ruger,” I told him. “Just go outside. I’ll find what I need.”
“I like these ones, too,” he said, pulling out a pair of turquoise panties. “They’d go good with the garter belt.”
I bit back a groan. I might have a thing for pretty underwear, but I didn’t need his input. Jerk. I checked my towel, making sure it was securely tucked in. Then I walked out of the bathroom,
determined to get his hands off my panties.
“Just put them down,” I repeated as I moved across the floor. He turned toward me, eyes sweeping
over my figure and pausing on my breasts. I felt exposed and uncomfortable, which was silly. The
towel covered more than most swimsuits. He had a hungry gleam in his eye, though—one I refused to
take as a compliment. We’d already established that Ruger found me attractive on a basic, biological
level.
Problem was, Ruger found every woman attractive on a basic, biological level.
I really didn’t like this new dynamic between us. Things were more comfortable when Ruger treated me like a piece of unwanted furniture.
“But I like them,” he said, examining the soft fabric with a smirk. I grabbed for the panties but he held them out of my reach.
“I just got done convincing myself I’ve been unfair to you,” I told him, narrowing my eyes. “Don’t
ruin it.”
Ruger didn’t say anything for several seconds. Then he stretched the panties between his hands like a rubber band and shot them at my face. I lurched to grab the silky blue missile. That’s when the towel slipped and I flashed enough of myself to earn a damned fine collection of Mardi Gras beads.
“Nice rack,” Ruger told me. “Checked out the rest of you before, but never those. Usually the other way around, now that I think of it. Tits before—”
“Jesus, you’re a pig,” I said, cutting him off as I jerked up the towel.
“I’ll concede the point,” he said, shrugging and stepping away from the suitcase. “But only if you wear that black bra. I liked the girls. They deserve something nice.”
“A*shole,” I muttered, pissy mood back in full force.
I dug through my bag, pulling out a pair of ratty cutoffs. Then I spotted the super tight, super low-
cut “Barbie Is a Slut” tank top my friend Carrie got me two years ago for Halloween, when we stayed
with her folks in Olympia. We’d taken Noah out trick-or-treating wearing friendly witch costumes
early in the evening. Then we tucked him safely in bed at her mom’s place and took ourselves out
trick-or-drinking. I made out with three different guys at three different parties … using three
different names. We finished by eating our weight in chocolate chip pancakes at IHOP as the sun rose.
Best. Night. Ever.
I pulled the tank out with a smile. Ruger wanted to treat me like one of his sluts? I could go there. I’d let him perv on my boobs. All day. Publicly. Maybe I’d flirt a little, too, but not with him. Nope, he could just suck it while I flashed the world. That would teach him to play with my panties.
I hoped his balls turned so blue they froze.
I ignored him as I took the shorts, tank, bra, and panties back to the bathroom and got dressed. I
dried my hair and put on full war paint. Then I stepped out to find Horse and Noah were back.
“Hey, Mom—Horse has a dog named Ariel. Can we get a dog, too?” Noah asked the instant he saw
me.
“I don’t think so,” I replied. “A dog’s a lot of work. We should start smaller. Maybe a hamster. Let’s ask Uncle Ruger if that’s okay or if he thinks it’s too much.”
I smiled at Ruger, whose eyes were glued to my chest. I adjusted my tank, pulling it down just enough to expose the top of the bra he’d requested.
He wanted to break our rules and bully me?
No problem. I was a big girl now, and I could fight back.
“So what do you think, Uncle Ruger?” I asked sweetly. “Is it too much?”