I also heard Repo rage against the giant who was carrying me. “What the fuck is this? You get your goddamn hands off her right fucking now or I’ll break every finger in your fucking hand!”
“Sorry, Repo,” Catfish’s baritone rumbled behind me as I fought fruitlessly against his hold; I might as well have been clawing at a boulder. “Razor wants the girl.”
CHAPTER 27
“Travel far enough, you meet yourself.”
― David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas
Duane
“Have you called Jess yet?”
I shook my head, staring out the driver’s side window of Beau’s GTO. It was the Friday after Thanksgiving. Instead of heading to the jam session and delicious coleslaw, we were on our way to the Dragon Biker Bar, unannounced and uninvited. We were presently stopped at the convenience store because Cletus needed duct tape. Jethro escorted Cletus into the store to ensure he didn’t dawdle. And I was driving because I was by far the best driver in case we needed to make a quick getaway.
I heard Beau curse under his breath next to me then say, “You’re such a dummy.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to call her. I just haven’t called her yet.”
“Well, why not?”
“Because I don’t have a plan yet, that’s why. I need to come to her with a plan, not just being stupid.”
“You are being stupid. What you need to do is call her, tell her you were wrong, beg for her forgiveness, say you’re ready to go whenever she is, and then meet some place for make-up sex. That’s how you do it.”
“She’s not going to forgive me that easily. That’s why I need a plan. Besides, I want all this mess with the Iron Order over and done with before I set things straight. They’ve taken too much of my time, been too much of a distraction.”
“You need to stop waiting for everything to be just right, Duane. Haven’t you wasted enough time already?”
“I’m not asking for your opinion,” I ground out.
Beau shook his head and sing-songed under his breath, “You’re making a mista—ake.”
The buzz of my phone offered an alternative to Beau’s meddling. Tina.
My message to her yesterday was clear: she was no longer needed.
She hadn’t responded. Not ’til now.
Tina: Tina can’t come to the phone right now. You should probably call your Uncle Razor, he’s got something you want.
I frowned at the short text, reading it twice, then cursed.
“What? What is it?” Beau glanced between me and my phone.
I showed him my screen.
He cursed, then said unnecessarily. “I bet she got herself caught.”
Luckily Jethro and Cletus walked out of the Piggly Wiggly at just that moment and made a beeline for the car.
“Sorry that took so long. They had a wide selection of duct tape. And Cletus bought silly string.” Jethro sounded irritated as he settled in the car behind me.
“You can’t rush a duct tape purchase.” In my rearview mirror I saw Cletus clutching the shopping bag to his chest. “Duct tape is man’s answer to electrons and protons. It’s how we keep matter together.”
Once Beau was back in the car, he grabbed my phone out of my hand and passed it to Cletus. “We may have a problem.”
Cletus frowned at the message, then nodded, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses farther up his nose. “Well. Okay then. You can’t make an omelet without heat.”
“You mean, you can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs,” Beau corrected.
“No. I meant what I said, you can’t make an omelet without heat. If you have no heat then it’s just watery, raw eggs. That’s not an omelet.”
“Why are you wearing those stupid glasses, Cletus? You don’t need glasses,” Beau asked impatiently.
“It’s a fashion statement,” Cletus responded while he typed something into his calculator watch.
“And to think, I was actually missing y’all last week, before I got home.” Jethro’s sarcasm was cool whip on whipped cream—completely unnecessary.
“Whatever,” Beau said, straightening in his seat. He was anxious.
I should have been, but other than hoping Tina hadn’t done anything too crazy, and a measure of guilt for involving her in the first place, all I felt was impatience to have this mess sorted.
***
I wasn’t anxious. Not at all.
Not until the moment I spotted Jessica James and Claire McClure being carried against their will into the Dragon Biker Bar by two huge men in black leather, trailed by four more men and a shouting Repo.
The situation didn’t look friendly.
“What the fuck?” Jethro’s voice was tight. I knew he recognized Ben McClure’s widow by her red hair. Part of me suspected Ben’s death years ago had been the catalyst for Jethro’s abrupt desire to clean up his act.
“Park the goddamn car, Duane!” Jethro’s voice was now frantic.
“Give the man a minute,” Cletus reprimanded. “Can’t you see his woman is up there, too?”