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“Heaven didn’t have room for me yet and hell was scared to take me,” Kurt said, making light of Randon’s comment. “You can’t believe everything the club tells you.”
Small towns and close-knit packs had a lot in common where gossip was concerned. Kurt’s grandmother used to say there was rarely a word of wisdom in a pack of lies.
Then again, he had been staggering drunk. Wise men didn’t drink. That was another line his grandmother often pitched.
“Kurt started early and finished a few hours later,” Marcus teased. “We benefited from his loss.”
“Funny guy,” Kurt muttered. On the ride to South Carolina, he’d vaguely remembered everything, enough to know he probably wouldn’t feel slighted if he never saw Eva again. Apparently the woman had some wind to go with that suction. She’d told the club he’d passed out cold.
“So you’re a drunk,” Suzette said, bitter accusation in her tone. “Perfect.” She pointed at Bart. “I guess this occupation drives everyone to drink.”
“Oh I’m not a cop, ma’am,” Kurt said, a little play in his voice. “But I carry around some of their equipment—you know the usual handcuffs and such—if you’re interested.”
Blaez snorted. Marcus and Randon laughed.
“If he’s carrying handcuffs, they’re probably not for their original intended purposes,” Bart muttered.
“Let’s hope not,” Suzette said, definitely flirting. A beat later, she added, “But it’s none of my business. It’s not like we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”
So much for flirting.
“I wouldn’t bet on that fact, ma’am.” Kurt turned away then, licking his wounds.
Randon sniffed. Pageant—doggone her—smirked. Bart and Blaine looked lost, which made Kurt second guess why he and Randon were working with two “former” cops
in the first place.
“Randon tells me it took you a few hours to get here. Where are you from, Mr. Dandridge?”
“Since we won’t be spending a lot of time together, what does it matter?”
Lick. Lick. Lick.
“You insulted him,” Blaez told her. “He’s pouting.”
“Damn right,” Kurt bit out. After an uncomfortable silence, he added, “Outside of Atlanta. I ride with the Bold and Free.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, indicating his bike. “That’s me over there.”
“Yes,” she said. “I see the resemblance. Strong, sturdy, and definitely noticeable.” She moistened her mouth and added, “Just the way a woman likes them.”
“Suzette!” Bart snapped.
“Patch gave you away, Dandridge,” Blaine said nervously, slapping Kurt on the back and going out of his way to steer him away from Suzette. “How about we go inside? Place is empty. We should be able to use everything from the offices to their vehicles.”
“What do you mean by empty exactly?” Kurt eyed the white cruisers parked outside the local sheriff’s office.
“They’re all gone or leaving.” Randon provided the reply with regret strewn through his voice.
“What do you mean, they’re all gone?”
“Some skipped town. Some are missing.” Randon grabbed the door when Kurt swung it open. “Most of ‘em are dead, Kurt. And that’s why we’re all here. This town’s population wasn’t quite two hundred before the killings started. Now they’re at a hundred and nine. At this rate, the town will be a ghost town in a few more days.”
“I take it he’s struck more than once.” When the others looked at him with blank expressions, he added, “In other words, it’s not like Pleasant where a bunch of people were found lying on the side of the road?”
“That surprises you?” Suzette asked.
“No.” Kurt thought about the previous attacks. “Yes, actually. He—or they—are usually in and out in a few days. Unless…” He stopped abruptly.
“Unless?” Suzette leaned forward and cocked her head like she was straining to hear his reply.
