They ordered their meals, and Wanda hurried away, sticking the ticket on the rotating cylinder in the kitchen window before moving onto the next table. Gabby and Boone both took their coffee black, but she added creamer after creamer, until the liquid was flush against the rim of her mug. Then she bent over to sip it without moving, because one jolt would have the sloshed brew all over the counter top.
Kaiya placed all the empty creamer containers back into the little dish, and when she looked at them, pleased with how diluted her coffee was, it was to encounter their shocked gazes. She pursed her lips and reached into her backpack for a pen and notebook.
“I don’t like the bitter aftertaste of coffee, so I put a little cream in it.”
“A little?” Gabby asked once he read her note. A smirk lingered at the corners of his mouth. “I think you just drained a whole cow dry.”
The waitress returned with her arms loaded with plates and delivered the food with a flourish only years of experience could produce. They ate without fanfare, not looking at one another as they shoveled food into their mouths. Kaiya personally thought the food had tasted better at the diner where they’d had their first date, but it was hard to screw up bacon and eggs so she simply added more salt. When they were done, Boone waved to get her attention.
“I think we should go to the bus depot now and grab the contents of the locker.”
“Why?” she wrote.
“Throw Cipher and his partner off guard.” Boone finished his coffee.
Kaiya wrote quickly and held up her note. “Then I should get it. They’ll be expecting two bikers, but not a woman.”
“Cipher knows what you look like,” Gabby replied.
She shrugged. “I can put on sunglasses to hide that I’m Japanese.”
Boone shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”
Anger threatened to flare again, but she took a deep, calming breath. Boone was the V.P. of a motorcycle club. He was used to giving orders, not taking them. It was time she learned how to maneuver around his decisions.
“It’s easy to be in and out in five minutes,” she wrote. “If Cipher is watching, I can quickly slip by, grab the contents in the locker and be gone before he or they realize what has happened.”
“Kaiya, we wouldn’t be inside the station to protect you.”
“I can protect myself.” When she saw that fact hadn’t sold him, she pressed on. “Please don’t think I’m incapable just because I’m deaf.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve never once thought you incapable, Kaiya.”
“Ever since my abduction, I’ve only made myself stronger,” she wrote. “I know how to shoot, how to fight. I can be an asset to you.”
He covered her pen, halting her words. She thought he was going to dismiss her like everyone else, but instead, he nodded. A huge smile graced her face, but he held up a finger.
“You will have ten minutes and you go in armed. All right?”
She nodded, acquiescing. Every piece of freedom or adventure she could grasp only made her wings spread a little wider. Luckily, Boone and Gabby finally seemed to understand that she didn’t need coddling. They stood, and Boone went to pay for their meal before they headed out.
As Kaiya slipped on her helmet, she saw two bikers across the street watching them. One held a cigarette, and a plume of smoke curled upward only to disappear into the cool breeze. She tapped Boone’s shoulder and nonchalantly nodded toward them. Boone tensed, letting her know he’d spotted them. The two bikers didn’t move, only sat there observing as they mounted and rode off. Omaha was a beautiful city, thriving with new construction and the hustle and bustle of a metropolis. They headed out of the downtown area into the less developed neighborhood until they came to the busy bus station.
The depot was a lot larger than Lincoln’s, taking up the whole block. People rushed in and out of the doors, activity swimming all around the place. Boone and Gabby parked and Kaiya got off the back, her heart pumping with adrenaline.
“Who were those bikers?” she signed.
“Don’t know,” Boone said as he took her helmet from her. “They wore patches on their cuts, but I couldn’t tell which club. The local MC in Omaha is the Whiskey Knights. Could’ve been them just making sure we don’t trip over any toes.”
Boone pulled her in close and took out one of his guns from his shoulder holsters to slip into her jacket pocket. The thing barely fit, so she had to wrap her hand around the handle.
“Are you okay with the gun?” he asked.
She read his lips and nodded.
“You know how to use it?” he asked again.
“Yes,” she mouthed.
He nodded and eased back. Gabby stepped forward and handed her the locker key. She wished they no longer had the awkward tension between them and she vowed to fix it when this was over.
“Number twenty-six,” Gabby said.
She nodded. She remembered each locker number, totally random without any logic to them at all. Her mind spun over to Cipher’s code, and she frowned. Maybe the locker numbers were just coincidence, but so far, nothing about Cipher was turning out to be cut and dried. From taking apart his office and going through his books, he may look a mess, but she’d learned he was a methodical plotter.
The bus station had people moving to and fro, hurrying in all directions, which made her a feel a bit better. There were so many people and she blended in as one more person milling about, especially with her backpack on. The sunglasses had belonged to Gabby, and she’d bent them so they’d stay firmly planted on her face. She looked around, heart pounding with fear, expecting to see Cipher jumping out at her like he’d done in the hardware store, but no one paid her any attention. She was just another nobody in the crowd.
The key burned in her pocket, so she hurried to the section that housed the lockers. The smaller numbers were in back, leaving the higher numbers as the first ones she approached. Wouldn’t a man wanting to stuff a random duffel bag just go to the first locker? Why seek out a specific locker? As Kaiya went past the numbers—sixteen, fifteen, fourteen—her mind replaced the numbers with letters of the English alphabet. P was the sixteenth letter, O was the fifteenth… The twenty-sixth letter was Z. Locker number ten had been in Lincoln. Number twenty-six in Omaha. Number six in Sioux City. Which would be JZF. Had Cipher picked these lockers based on something specific? Maybe his own initials? That sounded farfetched, but damned if the thought didn’t persist. She’d have to ask Boone and Gabby when she returned.
Locker twenty-six looked untouched. Glancing to make sure no one was around, she pulled the key out of her pocket and hurried forward. The key slid into the lock with ease. Kaiya released a pent-up breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She turned the key and the door opened effortlessly. Inside lay another duffel bag. Without looking inside, she slung it over her shoulder, turned, and hurried back the way she had come.
She almost ran the entire way back, weaving in and out of the crowd, moving as quickly as possible. She was almost to the door when she saw a biker out of the corner of her eye. Kaiya halted and gasped as her gaze met the stare of the man from the diner. He watched her, without even bothering to try to hide himself, studying her as if she were some sort of curious specimen. Even behind the tinted shade of her glasses, their eyes locked, and terror flooded through her. Was this man helping Cipher? Was she being tracked even now? The questions had her snapping out of her shocked trance. She ran through the door, all the way to where Boone and Gabby stood by their bikes waiting on her. Her breath came in shocked little pants as Boone flung his arms around her.
“What happened?” Gabby signed. Even in sign language she could tell he was tense and on edge.
“One of the men from the diner was inside, watching me,” she signed back.
Gabby turned around and stepped toward the entrance, but Boone’s big chest rumbled so she assumed he’d told Gabby no. The two men shared a grim look, then Boone tugged on her arm, hurrying her to mount up. She had barely put on her helmet before they roared away from the bus station, riding hard and fast.
They maneuvered through the city, all of it a blur, until Boone signaled toward a gas station and they pulled both bikes up toward a pump. Kaiya hopped off, waiting as the men filled their gas tanks.
“You think we’re being followed?” Gabby asked Boone.
Before Boone could answer, both men tensed and looked behind them. It took a moment for Kaiya to feel the vibration of motorcycles on the ground, and by then, it was too late for them to do anything. Four bikes rumbled into the gas station, surrounding them, and Boone grabbed her arm to yank her behind him. Her stomach rolled, and she had a sinking feeling they weren’t here for just a friendly little chat.
* * * *
Boone watched each rider, instantly recognizing Stone Cold, the president of the Whiskey Knights. The gray that threaded his hair and mustache gave him an almost dopy look, which belied the man’s cunning. He was probably in his late fifties, but the years as a hardened biker and ex-con hadn’t done the man any favors. Deep lines marred his face, crisscrossing like a road map. Nicotine stains bled from his teeth onto the corner of his lip. A tall, thin man, his cold black eyes could freeze a man to death.
Next to him sat the man from the diner, the one who had been watching Kaiya in the depot. Boone didn’t know the younger man, but he still recognized a dangerous person when he saw one. This had the potential of turning ugly, so instead of reaching for his gun, he raised his hands slightly to show he wasn’t about to make a bad mistake.
“Boone,” Stone Cold greeted him.
“Stone Cold. We don’t want any trouble,” Boone said.
“You come into my territory without permission, wearing your colors,” Stone Cold said, shrugging. “That’s not very friendly.”
“We’re just passing through. We meant the Whiskey Knights no disrespect.”
Stone Cold kicked out his bike stand and propped his machine before dismounting. He walked around them, studying each in a slow, measured dose. Boone stayed still, although he wondered if he was making a colossal mistake not arming himself. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was Kaiya’s only shield and that they stood next to a fucking gas pump, he would’ve reached for his gun already. As it was, all he could do was wait.
“The Men of Hell, eh?” Stone Cold snorted. “Then you must know Bizerk and Vicious.”
Boone jerked. “What the hell did you just say?”
“You heard me.” Stone Cold stopped in front of him.
Boone glanced at the men boxing them in. They hadn’t drawn their guns, but he doubted a little thing like shooting next to a gas line would stop them if he made a move on their president.
“Vicious and Bizerk are fucking psychos,” he said.
“I won’t argue that. They didn’t like being stuck in the lower ranks of this club. Said they were going to form their own.”
“The motherfuckers
didn’t
form their own,” Boone growled. “They tried stealing mine. They killed two of my Brothers. Almost killed my president’s old lady.”
“I heard about your club being targeted.”
“Well, if you heard that and, if you know where Vicious is, then I demand you tell me!”
Stone Cold got right in his face, toe to toe, until all Boone saw was cold fury in his dark eyes. “First of all, I don’t take orders from no one, least of all the V.P. of an inferior club. Second, I know what those two asses did to your club, which is the only reason I haven’t put bullets in your head for trespassing. I knew the Men of Hell would come one day, which is why I had Eagle looking out for you. Seems like I have some restitution to pay out since they were
my
men.”
He motioned with his hand, and the biker who’d been watching them stepped forward.
“This is Eagle,” Stone Cold said. “He’s the scout for the Knights. Tell them what you saw the other night.”
“Happen to spot Vicious at the bus depot,” Eagle replied. “Don’t know what he was doing, but he was riding with a bald-headed man. Glasses. Skinny as fuck.”
Boone shared a grim look with Gabby. “Yeah,” he said, turning back. “We know him. Our old accountant.”
Stone Cold folded his arms across his chest. “Why would your old accountant be riding with Vicious?”
Boone stared at the gathered Whiskey Knights. They seemed to have no compunction of starting a gunfight next to a highly explosive substance.
Shit.
He turned to Kaiya and gestured for the duffel bag. She took it off and he tossed it over. It landed with a thunk at Stone Cold’s feet.
The man looked at him suspiciously before bending to open it. He looked surprised as he held up one of the stacks of cash.
“This is a lot of fucking money,” he said.
“He stole it from our club,” Boone replied.
Stone Cold tossed the stack back into the duffel and zipped it shut. When he stood, he had a firm hold on the bag. “We could consider this to be a good will gesture on your part.”
Of course.
“As I see it, you lost control of your men, who came and killed two Men of Hell members. I fail to see what goodwill gesture I’m responsible for.”
Stone Cold glared at him for a long, tense moment. Then he grinned and tossed the duffel bag to Eagle. “You’ll come to the clubhouse, stay with us while we show you our apology. Then we’ll talk about your toll for entering my territory.”
Boone sighed.
Fuck.
Chapter Twelve
Gabby didn’t like this, not one bit.
He followed Stone Cold and Eagle, with two other Whiskey Knights riding behind them forming a stifling cage around them. He kept glancing at Boone, wanting the man to veer off suddenly so they could get the hell away from this MC. Deep down, he knew that wasn’t an option, but that was why Boone was V.P. and he was just fucking muscle. It wasn’t that he was dumb, but he simply didn’t have the temperament to go down the politics path, and sitting at the head of the table was nothing but weighing the pros and cons of action. Office material he was not.
The Whiskey Knights compound was located out of the city, on a ranch for crying out loud—green rolling hills, white picket fences and horses that dotted the horizon. Not to mention the fact that there was no one to hear any gunshots, as well as having lots of places to hide a body. It was enough to mess with Gabby’s carefully controlled emotions as the main gate closed behind them with a loud clang.