TRAILING TRISHA - A Black Hounds Motorcycle Club Romance (The Fox and the Hounds Book #2) (13 page)

They would want her to be happy rather than slave away at keeping the farm alive. For that matter, she wasn’t sure what they would think of her fake relationship. It was a question for anther lifetime.

The young woman felt an arm drape itself around her waist. She turned and saw a boyish grin on Dante’s face as he said. “Just another day at the office.”

He punctuated his statement with a soft kiss. Trisha’s hand stroked the side of his leg. She felt like that caged fox from her youth. The young woman wanted to be free. She wanted to do naughty things with her lover.

When they broke apart, Dante said. “Twelve million or whatever we’re paying you isn’t enough.”

“What’s this about?”

“Between the media and just about everything else that comes with being engaged to a celebrity, I’m putting you through hell,” he sighed, nuzzling his lips against his lips. “And you’re taking those hits like you got a chin made of cast iron. No one deserves getting hauled across half the state to prop up a multi-billion dollar business. For what I’ve asked you to do, they’ll be have seat in the lowest rung of hell reserved for me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic Dante,” Trisha joked, stabbing his chest with a finger. “I’d still be your friend. Now and always.”

While his wore a serious expression, his lips broke out into a dangerous grin. “Will you still be with me after all of this is over? As more than just a friend?”

Deflecting the question, she glanced at the tray and champagne. “How about a drink first?”

Dante reached over to take a champagne bottle from the ice bucket. After peeling the seal off, he expertly popped it open with just one hand. “I wonder what delicacy’s in the tray. Smells like road kill if you ask me.”

Trisha giggled and lifted the tray. “Let’s take a look.”

It was a fox.

A dead fox.

In her line of work, Trisha was used to seeing dead animals. Some were her own livestock. Some were strays on their last legs. Some of them were pests or predators on their last raid. In every case, she hated to see a carcass rot.

“What the fuck?!” Dante growled, venom in his words. He stared in disbelief at the dead husk of an animal. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

Something to the side of the dead fox caught Trisha’s eye. “There’s a note.”

“A note?” Dante said, before picking it up. His eyes widened in horror. “Son of a bitch…”

Trisha looked over and gasped. “It’s that red skull again.”

Dante murmured as he saw the symbol etched in red, almost bloodlike, ink. “The Red Aztecs…”

The young woman reached out to hold his hand. She stopped when she saw “There’s something on the backside of that note, Dante.”

He quickly flipped it over. The phase ‘married liars’ was hastily written over a newspaper photo of him proposing to Trisha. “Fuck, they know about us.”

Between the fox and the insidious symbol, Trisha knew this was aimed at her. Someone was threatening Dante Alastair through her. Whoever this person or people were, they knew the engagement was a sham. It was clear they wanted to hurt the scion of the Black Hounds, even if it meant going through his loved ones first.

Dante wore a stone-cold expression on his face. She had seen flashes of it whenever he got upset with a reporter but it always disappeared soon after. He had always kept the rabid dog inside of him on a tight lease. Now, the man she loved looked like he’d strangle the next person he saw.

“Trisha, did that hotel attendant look suspicious to you?”

Trisha slowly shook her head. “No, he even looked just as confused as we were.”

He scanned the room and glanced at the bathroom. “Don’t move or say anything, Trisha.”

Like a one man SWAT team, the biker checked each nook and cranny of the room. He went into the bathroom and checked behind the shower curtain. He checked the balcony. He even opened the closets.

There was no one there.

Trisha hated to see act so paranoid. “What the hell are we going to do now, Dante?”

She wanted a witty retort or a comforting remark. She’d take anything that would calm her.

He looked at the dead fox on the tray. “I honestly don’t know.”

Dante walked over to the trolley and picked up a bottle of champagne. Trisha had always relied on him to guide her through the dangerous world outside her cozy farm. Now, he was just as lost and confused as she was. She closed her eyes and tried to retrace her steps.

Suddenly, the young woman heard the crack of glass. Her eyes opened in shock as she saw bubbly champagne mix with broken glass on the floor. Dante had thrown the champagne bottle against the wall.

“Sorry,” he grimaced, shooting her an apologetic look. She looked at him for comfort but saw the same fear looking back at her. “I lost… control.”

“If they could sneak that fox in, the champagne might’ve been drugged as well,” she whispered, staring at the dead fox. It hurt to talk like a paranoid asylum patient but some paranoia was warranted at this point. “That poor fox…”

“Whoever did this has a vendetta against me… he wants me to suffer,” Dante mused, shaking his head in disgust. He saw the woman he wanted to protect head to the hotel room’s balcony. “What’s wrong, Trisha?”

The young woman let the cool night air gently blow against her skin. Her lover followed and wrapped his hands around her waist. It wasn’t completely an affectionate gesture. He was looking for support and guidance.

His warm body contrasted with the cool air. It reminded her that she was alive and that fox was dead. The Cinderella story was coming to an end. The carriage had turned back into a pumpkin and her fairy tale romance had come to an end.

Whenever she turned a corner, life led her back the other way. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t escape pain and misery. To make matters worse, she had become the tool that would destroy Dante.

The man had tried to become a better person. It wasn’t just for some bean counters at his company. He was doing it for her. Dante whispered into her ear. “Trisha, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Dante,” she said, staring at the stars above. The clouds obscured the crescent moon above. Trisha turned to look back at the fox on the tray. “I just have to do something first.”

Dante watched the woman he loved dig a grave. She was no stranger to working in the field. It wasn’t her first time digging up holes, putting something in, and then covering it up. It’s just that what she was putting into the ground was different than usual.

She had buried the fox.

It was a common fox that roamed the desert. In his youth, Dante had seen the skittish creature roam the desert. It hurt the normally reserved biker to see such senseless death. For Trisha, it must have been a mortal blow to see her farm’s namesake killed and delivered literally on a platter.

The young man had never met a woman like her. Lucia was cool and dangerous as steel knife. His mother was as strict and reliable as a mother hound. Trisha was something else entirely.

He had never seen a woman so driven, hardworking, and honorable. Her designer dress was now stained with dirt but looked no less elegant on her. At the same time, he had never met a woman so pure, optimistic, and innocent. It hurt him to see the filth surrounding him begin to taint her. The ghosts of the past haunted him and Trisha.

She deserved better than him.

Trisha had asked him to drive her into the desert outside of Ironville to find a burial spot. They should’ve gone to the police or at least talked to Lucia first. Yet, Dante couldn’t bring himself to argue with her. He rented a car and drove into the desert.

He remembered when his mother died. His had honored her by landing himself straight in juvenile hall. Back then, he had responded to adversity with anger and frustration. Burying the fox felt like the most decent thing he’d done in ages.

Perhaps, this was how Trisha mourned. Working the field must have been a balm for her sorrow. It was more productive than sending people to the medical ward with his fists. Besides, there was this strange determination in Trisha. He found himself relying on her for direction.

Dante watched as she patted down the grave with the back of her shovel. “Trisha, are you okay?”

“Okay… as I’ll ever be,” she answered, turning to face him. “I guess the question is whether or not you’ll be okay.”

Glancing back at his car, Dante noticed his mouth felt dry. It wasn’t just from the desert weather. The young man wanted to ride off into the sunset with Trisha. He didn’t care where he ended up. He just wanted both of them to be safe from harm.

“I just need some time-“

“Time to wallow in self-pity and run away?” she asked, her words cutting through him. “Dante, you can’t keep putting off your problems and hoping they disappear. You have to deal with them now.”

The barbed words were well deserved. For too long, he had pretended nothing was wrong. Each day, he’d put that red skull out of his mind as if was a bad prank. Now, he wouldn’t be the only one caught in the crossfire.

Trisha would be utterly destroyed. She had no place in the world of biker vendettas. They would end the Kaplan family with her. He had promised to save her birthright. Minute by minute, it felt more like he had doomed it and her along with it.

The thought alone made his stomach churn.

His lover’s eyes glistened in the moonlight. It was as if they were on the verge of crying but held back. She had every right to be upset at him even if he didn’t enjoy it.

The expression on Trisha’s was soon replaced by regret. “Sorry, I know your world’s falling at the seams as much as mine is. You’ll get us out of this, I know you will.”

There was no point in lying to her. “A fistfight or a street race, I can deal with. This… this I don’t know what the hell to do. I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess in the first place.”

“You didn’t drag me anywhere I didn’t want to be in the first place,” she said, reaching out to hold his hand. “No matter what, I know you’ll follow your heart. That’s the least anyone can be asked to do.”

Dante knelt before like a knight. Then, he kissed the back of her hand. “I swear I’ll protect you if that’s the last thing I do.”

“I appreciate the gesture,” she smiled before rubbing her arms. “But it’s getting pretty chilly here and I didn’t exactly dress for the occasion.”

The biker softly laughed. “Let’s head back to the car.”

The two sat in car but Dante only turned on the heating. He stared out the skyline for a moment before speaking. “I don’t know who is exactly behind this, Trisha. All the Red Aztecs who held a grudge against us are retired, dead, or rotting in jail. The guy I beat up and sent to the hospital ended up dead two years later in a shootout.”

Trisha asked. “Are you sure it’s them?”