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“Saint’s right, man. This ain’t on you.”
Trax halted mid-step, staring at the parking lot. He swallowed the knot in his throat and bowed his head. “It was my ride.” He shook his head, feeling the weight of the guilt as if it were a thousand bricks on his back. “It shoulda been me.”
“But it wasn’t,” Rourke said, hovering over Trax. He rested his hand on his shoulder, tightening his grip in a comforting squeeze. “This is not on you,” he muttered, releasing his grasp and then making his way to his bike.
Trax followed without saying another word.
Chapter Two
“Wait a minute, back up. You took it?” Macy’s eyes widened, and Cheyenne averted her gaze. This is a fucking mess.
Cheyenne had spent the last thirty minutes rehashing the accident to her best friend, Macy. Saying it out loud and reliving it all over again left her trembling by the time she stopped talking. It all happened so fast. She’d been on autopilot when it was going down. Now, given time to actually have it all replay in her head, she was rocked to the core. Seeing the car swerve right into the motorcycle as if it were deliberate had her stomach rolling in waves. Then watching the bike fly up into the air and over the embankment. Retelling the story had the same effect as watching it firsthand. Nothing hit her as hard as seeing the poor man sliding at least thirty feet down the asphalt. All the blood and his open wounds. Her stomach churned. It was tragic.
Mick.
“Chey?” Macy snapped her fingers.
Cheyenne blinked twice and turned to Macy. “What?”
“You took the package?”
Cheyenne nodded, biting her bottom lip. “Well, yeah.” She twisted her fingers and pulled up her knees to rest her chin. “I had to.”
Macy’s eyes grew wide, the size of saucers. “What’s in it?”
Cheyenne shrugged and whispered, “I don’t know.”
“What do ya mean, you don’t know? You didn’t look?” Macy jumped up from the couch. “Where is it? Let’s open it.”
Of course, Macy’s brain would take her to entertain her curiosity. She wasn’t the one who had witnessed the horrific accident. So much blood.
“Chey?”
She shook her head, trying to rid her memory of the image.
“No, we are not opening anything.” She licked her dry lips. “Look, they probably took him to Glenview General or Blacksburg Memorial. I’m going to go to both until I find him and give it back. I already tried calling, but unless you are family, they don’t give out any info.”
“I think we should look.”
“No,” she snapped. He’d been so adamant about her taking it, it must have been important.
“Let me get this straight. You are going to walk around with a package you got from a biker of a gang who gave it to a total stranger in complete desperation because he didn’t want the cops to find it. But you won’t look inside?” She whistled and raised her brows. “And they say I’m the dumb one?”
“Macy, I…”
“You could very well be toting around a pound of crack in your pocketbook, Chey. You know what that’ll get ya?” She cocked her brow and folded her arms. “Three squares a day and a hideous orange jumpsuit.”
Cheyenne hadn’t given much thought about what was in the envelope. But now, having time to think, he’d been adamant about the cops not getting it. It was a red flag. What if it was drugs, and she somehow got caught with it? Would the police even believe she didn’t know what was in the envelope or that it wasn’t hers? Her stomach churned. What if they didn’t? Beads of sweat formed on her upper lip, and her skin prickled. She glanced up at Macy.
“You think it’s drugs?”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, it sure as hell isn’t a grocery list. Seriously, we have to look for your own safety.”
She squinted at Macy. She had a point, but there was no denying Macy’s intrigue. Her concern was half safety and the other half pure nosiness. Either way, Macy was right. She had to know what she was dealing with.
“Fine.” She walked back to her room, grabbed her bag, and headed into the living room where Macy was practically bouncing on her toes. Make that three-quarters intrigue. She grabbed the large tattered envelope, which had been folded in half. She slowly unraveled it to the opening. Oddly enough, it wasn’t sealed. She peeked inside and gasped at the contents. Nausea rolled her stomach, and a large chunk rose up her throat. Oh hell.
“What is it? Drugs?” Macy asked in a high-pitched screech.
