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“Why hell no.”
“Do you want me to remind you of a conversation you and I had after my thirtieth birthday?”
Kurt’s head was throbbing. He couldn’t think for the thrumming in his ears, much less try and remember something he’d said more than a year ago.
“Are you still with me?”
“Did you ignore the message I sent? Hangover hell, Randon.”
“We’re not as young as we used to be. Tying one on comes at a price.”
“As if you’d know. When you wake up each day, the only thing on your breath is—”
“Pageant,” Randon interrupted him before he said something off color.
“Hello, Pageant,” Kurt muttered, realizing he was probably on speakerphone.
“Good morning, Kurt,” she sang. “How was your birthday?”
“You missed a good party.”
“You’re the one who missed a great bash,” she informed him, laughter in her voice.
“We were there,” Randon said. “You were already in your room.”
“Shame I missed you.” Kurt repositioned the phone against his other ear. “My head is pounding.”
“Quit whining,” Randon said, his voice changing in an instant. “I called for a reason. Time to get your boots on, brother. He’s back and he struck again in Small Town USA.”
Kurt took a second to process. He held the phone out far enough to confirm the power was on and the seconds were clicking off one by one. Damn. He wasn’t dreaming.
Groaning, he rolled to the other side of the bed, planted his feet on the floor, and swung open the mini-fridge door long enough to grab a water bottle. After popping several aspirin and washing them down, he grated out, “Talk at me.”
“I’ve been trying to do just that for the last four hours,” Randon informed him. “This Eva gal must’ve kept you up half the night.”
“You know it,” Kurt said, not remembering a blame thing except that she had claimed to know Randon. Now, Randon was sort of implying he didn’t know her. Kurt debated mentioning the fact but decided he must’ve been playing it off for Pageant’s sake. After contemplating the Eva factor for a moment more, he decided it wasn’t important. “Give it to me. Everything you’ve got on the guy.”
“He cleared out a town.”
The “he” in question was well understood. The Bold and Free riders had been tailing a murderer for the last few years. They were tired of chasing shadows in the dark and showing up late to what small town reporters often dubbed as killing parties. They were chasing entities known as the extortionists, but as far as Kurt was concerned, they might as well have been tailing ghosts.
“You with me now?” Randon asked.
“About half, but I’m getting there. Go ahead. Talk at me.”
“Satisfying, South Carolina and it’s bad, man.”
“Isn’t it always?” Kurt hit the speaker option and scrolled through the texts he’d apparently missed over the last few hours. “Wait a minute.” He read the part about Bart Phillips’s ex-wife living in Satisfying. He couldn’t guess why, but he was suddenly desperate to remember what she looked like. Probably didn’t matter. Only, for some peculiar reason he had a strange feeling he’d dreamt about her the night before. “Do you remember anything about her?”
“Who’s that?” Randon asked.
“I’m reading your texts. You said Bart Phillips’s ex-wife lives there in Satisfying.”
“Yeah, so?”
Kurt cleared his throat. “Is this related?” He wasn’t about to dig for personal information on the former deputy’s ex. Most of the Bold and Free riders became hot topics after their thirtieth birthday. According to wolfen legends and proven facts, the pack members always mated within ninety days of the big 3-0, which was the primary reason the club threw huge parties when one of their own was days away from biting the bullet. Pack members within the MC considered the events their bachelor parties.
Randon’s voice changed in volume as he provided a few facts about Satisfying. He mentioned something about the town not having a stoplight and then rambled about the population, schools, curvy two-lane highways with terrible pavement and potholes big enough to swallow a few SUVs, not to mention Harleys.
