Page 25 of Tangled Threats on the Nomad Highway
“I’ll text you the address.”
The call disconnected, and a moment later,he had the location for the map app on the phone.
“And that’s shorthand for don’t stop, don’tcall, don’t take a shit—just ride.” He stood and, in the space of afew minutes, had packed a bag, including spare ammunition for hispreferred gun. Staring around the small room that had become home,he hummed and sighed, the sense he’d forgotten something asirritating as losing a word on the tip of his tongue. “Whatever itis, it can’t be that important.”
He was nearly halfway down the stairs whenit hit him, and he headed back up, taking the steps two at a time.In the bedroom suite, he went directly to the bathroom and scoopedup the toothbrush he’d kept all this time, tucking it into theinside pocket of his vest and securing the fastening to keep thepocket closed.
“Oh, honey.” Lauren’s voice wasexactly as he remembered it, and he spun in a circle, heart in histhroat.
“I’m goin’ fuckin’ nuts.” Staring at himselfin the bathroom mirror, he took a long look at the changes wroughtby nearly a year. The grizzle in his beard was more pronounced,lines in his forehead deeper, and his lips had settled into anenduring scowl. Lauren hadn’t been a fan of his tattoos, all gainedsince they’d first married, and the leather vest over his barechest showed them off in full glory. If he were to meet her for thefirst time right now, she probably wouldn’t give him the time ofday.
Don’t fuckin’ matter anymore, does it?
Shaking his head, he trotted down the stairsand hunted through the rooms until he found Marlin in the kitchen,talking with Crazy Mike.
“Glad I caught you two. I just got off thehorn with Mudd. Retro wants me to come to Baker, interview one ofBlackie’s men. Turns out Scar’s brother is in the life, but onemore like ours and less like his fucked-up family.”
“Are you shittin’ me?” Crazy Mike’s handsrose, fingers closing over his palm, making a grasping fist. “Thatclose, and we couldn’t get our hands on him?”
“Guess he’s not advertised the relationshipmuch. I’m assuming Blackie knew, but you know what they say.”Einstein adjusted the bag over his shoulder. “Headed out now. Theonly update call they want from me is knuckles against the doorwhen I get there. You both aware of the arrangement they’ve allmade in Baker?”
Marlin stretched his neck. “Yeah. Monday’sgoing to be our offering. Sucks, man, he’s good.”
“Agreed. Wasn’t displeased when we took himon from the Freaks.” Ryman had been a fringe member of a nearbyclub called the Borderline Freaks MC and had arranged to patch overto the Bastards following some personal drama. He’d wanted a moveand a clean break, and the Bastards had given him that. As formerindependent security hired out by the military, he was disciplinedand intelligent and able to analyze a situation almost as fast asRetro—which was saying something. “Saw how he was when he took onhis patch for the Bastards. Loyalty earned by trust, and that tellsme we can’t assume he’ll be an inside lead on anything going on inthe Freed Riders, man. Admire that about a man when he joinsus.”
“When he leaves us? Not so much.” Crazy Mikeeyed a clock on the wall. “You got about three hours, add a few forfueling. Boss man calleth.”
“And the men followeth.” Einstein tapped afinger to his temple. “I know how the man works. I’m headed outnow. Just wanted to give you the info so if he needs more from uphere, you’re up to speed. Give you a chance to fill my rotation atRetro’s house.”
“Obliged.” Marlin’s top lip curled in a tinygrin. “Be safe, brother. You need one of us with you, we can beready in ten.”
“I’m good.” Forcing himself to meet theirgazes, he let the smile he had plastered on fade. If the winceCrazy Mike gave was any indication, he might have let too muchhonesty slip through. “If I wasn’t, I’d ask. No worries,brothers.”
“Hmph. I’m guessing that’s not as reassuringas you’d like to think, man. But we’ll take it at face value andtrust you to make that call. Even if you didn’t in the past, I forone gotta believe you’ve learned.” Mike leaned close, handextended, and Einstein met it with his own tight grip. Pulledoff-balance by a tug, he landed with his shoulder in Mike’s chest.Then he was held in place by an arm around his neck. “Fuckin’ loveyou, brother. I find out you needed me and didn’t make thatgoddamned call? I’m gonna be one pissed-off Bastard.”
“You and me both,” Marlin chimed in asEinstein pulled away from Mike. “Don’t hurt me anymore, man.” Thepouting expression he pulled was hilarious, and the kitchen filledwith laughter.
“Jesus, give it a break. Iwillask,I fucking swear.” At the door, he paused and glanced over hisshoulder. “Make me proud.”
“Sure, Daddy.”
Einstein was glad he’d already turned awayso Crazy Mike wouldn’t see how that—just that word, spoken socasually—tore him up inside.
Not yet, Dolph.
He double-checked to make sure his tool kitwas safely stored in the bottom of one saddlebag, then strapped hisduffel to the bike, pulling on the bungee netting to verify thetautness. Helmet in hand, he straddled the seat just as his phonebuzzed, so he shoved one hand in a pocket to retrieve thedevice.
The screen told him what he needed to know,and with a tap, he sent the call from his in-laws to voicemail. Itwould be his mother-in-law, and she’d want to know what he plannedfor the one-year anniversary of Lauren’s and Makayla’s death.Nothing, that’s what I’ve got on tap.In a way, this tripwas a godsend, because by not being here, he could honestly tellthem it couldn’t happen.Not right now, not ever.Any kindof memorial would feel like a celebration, and he wasn’t ready tofind the goodness in the end of their lives, couldn’t see his wayclear to that kind of a gathering.Probably not ever.
Helmet strapped tight, he checked thecontents of his pockets as he placed the phone back where itbelonged. Wallet on a chain and clipped to a belt loop, phonetucked deep, he verified everything and then made a final patagainst the front of his vest, the hard cylinder of the toothbrushsafely stored away.
Three and a half hours later, as he followedthe directions read through at the last fuel stop, his gaze flickedfrom the odometer to the upcoming turn onto a narrow country road.That’s it. Nearly there.The ride hadn’t been onerous, withlight traffic and sunny weather, but he was ready to be still for awhile, this being the longest trip he’d made in more than a year.Riding around Birmingham for hours wasn’t the same as along-distance highway trip, and one—conducted with friends at hisside—was significantly less wearying than the other.
Even if he hadn’t memorized the distance toTruck’s house, he could have easily picked it out from the crowd ofbikes spread out in the yard and a field adjacent to the structure.A truck and trailer were parked perpendicular to the road, andEinstein eased his tires up past the rig, scouting around to findRetro’s bike. Seeing it in the field behind the house, he rolledthat direction, feet down in case he needed to balance thebike.
By the time he’d parked and removed hishelmet, he could see Mudd already headed his way. With a quickstretch, he hung the helmet from the handlebars and adjusted hiswallet, quickly patting the pockets of his jeans and front of hisvest to ensure nothing had been lost. As he met Mudd halfway, theygreeted each other with gripped wrists and fists thumping solidlyagainst broad backs.
“Brother. You made good time.”
