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“That sounds good, thanks.”
I knew I probably shouldn’t eat or drink anything from any of the Diablos, but I was stressed, dammit, and could really use some of that cake.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re really doing here?” Cueball asked as he took out a plate, fork, and got a knife out of the rack. He pointed the knife at me and said, “Cause I know a woman on the prowl, and you ain’t it.”
I looked warily at the knife, then back at him, knowing that I couldn’t continue with the ruse of being here to hook up with him, since he obviously didn’t believe it.
Unsure of how truthful I should be, I knew whatever I said or did next could not just endanger me, Bran, and Carmen, but could blow back on Cade as well.
“My friends and I are in need of a little . . . security and were told your MC might be able to help,” I said, hoping the lie sounded true to his ears.
“Oh yeah, who told you that?”
Cueball slid the plate with a large piece of cake across the counter to me.
“A few people outside of Greenswood. They said you guys have been talking to people about weapons and security, and such. We’re in a bit of situation and could use some weapons.”
I really needed the chocolate, like now . . . my nerves were going haywire as I waited for his reaction to my request. But, he’d given me the cake with no fork.
“Hey, Cue . . .”
I looked over as a guy entered the kitchen and pulled Cueball to the side, whispering in his ear while they both watched me.
Fuck, what is that guy telling him . . . and where did he put that fork?
Cueball crossed over to me, and the guy turned and left.
“Is there a fork?” I asked as he sidled up next to me, close enough so I had to look up.
“Trot said you’re the old lady who’s been talking to Junior and his old man,” Cueball said, his expression menacing.
Before I could reply, he reached out, grabbed me by the back of the hair, and slammed my face down into the cake.
Shit, that hurt.
I sputtered as he lifted me back up by my hair.
“How ‘bout you tell me the truth.”
I licked the crumbs from my mouth, desperate, I know . . .
“I’m Cade’s old lady, and I’m here for my man,” I said, my voice so loud and strong that I surprised myself, because inside I was shaking like a leaf.
Cueball tugged on my hair so I was forced to stand up, then he led me out of the kitchen.
“Hey, let her go!” I heard Carmen yell, and my eyes swiveled in search of her.
She and Bran were walking in front of two bikers, and I could tell by their stiff stance, that they were once again at gunpoint.
“Take ‘em to the basement,” Cueball ordered, then dragged me behind them.
We went down the steep stairs in the dark, then a door opened into a dimly lit room. As we walked through it I saw an old man slumped in a chair in the corner, his wrist chained to keep him in place.
I gasped when I realized it was Bubba, Junior’s dad.
That must have been why Junior gave us the wrong time of the tow and had acted so weird when I confronted him about it. They’d taken his father, and no doubt told him to keep quiet about what they were doing, or they’d hurt him.
I heard the sound of a deadbolt being unlocked, then the turn of another lock, and I looked over to see the guy up front putting the key in and unlocking it as well.
