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The moment I opened my mouth to respond, a familiar Chevy pulled up next to where I stood with Braeden. Lawrence and his partner slipped out of the car and approached us. “Jensen Grimes?” Larry said.
“Miss?” His partner nodded to me. It was odd to be mistaken for a girl, but I played along, unsure what he was seeing as opposed to everyone else. “Mister?” His partner said to Braeden. “Is the food in here good?”
I shrugged, “It will suffice for breakfast, if that’s what you mean.”
“Good. Larry, I will get us a table.” His partner went in, never taking his gaze off me.
“That was mildly odd,” I told Lawrence. “What are you doing here? I told you I am taking Emilie to Napa Valley today.”
“Do you really think I’m going to let you kill Levi Shields? We’ve been after this asshole for too many years, and I want to be the one to put this monster away.” Lawrence said with so much bravura, I wanted to slap the arrogance out of him.
“From what I heard; Ozzy Dillon Sr. deserved his death. But I have more reason to seek retribution than you do. I fucking lost everything, including my life. Or are you oblivious to that, Lawrence?”
Braeden burst out laughing, “This is so righteous, dude. We are talking to a genuine ghost—you’re solid though, how is that possible?”
“I am not a ghost. I am an angel in limbo and this mission is a determinant if I get my wings and stay in Heaven or if I am shipped to the depths of hell.” I groaned in aggravation. “Why am I even telling you two? It doesn’t matter who or what I am. What matters is getting Emilie to the Weatherly house before we run into Levi and the remaining Chrome Poppies club.”
I marched over to the bike, expecting to see Emilie in the sidecar, but she there, nor was she anywhere near the bike… or the restaurant. “Emilie?” I called out frantically running about the parking lot then inside the restaurant. “Miss?” I called out to our server. “Did you see the little girl I was with?” She shook her head, and I waved her off, heading to the bathrooms to find the women’s door locked. I knocked and heard the familiar voice tell me she was in there. Though relieved to hear Emilie’s voice, I was fuming at how much she made me freak out.
The moment she opened the door, I gripped her arm angrily and dragged her outside. “Stop, Jensen, you’re hurting my arm.”
“Don’t you ever do that to me. Emilie, don’t you realize how much danger you’re in?” I kept from saying this to her, but I was pissed, and she had to know. She opened her mouth to speak, and I interrupted her, “Your independence will get you killed. Don’t you realize that?”
Emilie was in tears, sobbing uncontrollably. I am certain I frightened her with my outburst, but I had to make her understand. “Emilie?” I said as gently as possible, placing a hand on her shoulder. She twisted her body and ran to the sidecar. “Okay, stomp off and buckle up. But don’t take off again.”
When I turned, I had an audience of two. “The longer we stay here, the closer Levi gets to us. So, I am out of here.”
Braeden rushed to his bike, “Yeah, bro, you’re not going anywhere without me.” I didn’t ask for company, but I sensed I’d get the cold shoulder from Emilie, so maybe another rider wasn’t such a bad idea.
TWENTY-TWO
LEVI
My men made me proud and surprised me with a set of new tires. When I asked where they got them, no one had the balls to tell me, so it was safe to say, the fuckers stole them off another Harley Softtail.
The five of us were up at the crack of dawn, heading east toward Fresno. Bear assumed it would be the direction the alleged Jensen Grimes was heading. I had an idea what I was going to do once we caught up; however, there was no way I was going to share that information with Bear or the other men.
Since the Dillon slaughter, every one of my men had discouraged me from shooting or abducting the kid. The big one was to leave it alone. That member never made it to his bike or out of the warehouse that morning. Yeah, so fucking what, I killed another, and this was no worse an addiction than alcohol or drugs.
I was a serial killer now and well on my way to being arrested or killed, whichever happens first. Do I look like I fucking care? Nowadays, no. I lost so much in my life, that there was absolutely nothing worth living for. Call me a sympathetic character, call me a fucking asshole. I don’t care anymore.
“Hey, Boss! We need to turn onto the 99 going south. We stand a good chance of running into Grimes there,” Bear told me over the intercom. I hummed a response and left the navigation up to him. Bear always had good instincts, and he was normally 99.5% correct. “Remember what we discussed?”
“Yeah. Don’t act irrationally.” I grumbled.
“You never know, this kid could help you in court.”
Bear was always the optimist and always an idiot. I burst out laughing, “She witnessed me open fire on her entire family, Grimes and Denton—how in the fuck is she going to help me in court?”
“Just trying to help you take a positive stance on this situation, boss.”
If I didn’t need Bear’s support so much, I’d kill him at the next stop. He wasn’t helping in any way, shape, or form. He was only adding more to the aggravation that consumed me.
The next hour on the highway was quiet. There was no banter or preachy comments from Bear. Only the sounds of grunge rock coming from my radio. I had blinders on when my eyes were supposed to survey my entire surroundings and two of the men called out excitedly. “North on the 99, we spotted an Indian and someone ridin’ bitch in the sidecar.”
“Do you think it’s them?” Bear asked with skepticism in his voice. He was always so certain of everything that he doubted everyone else’s word.
“It’s not Grimes though. It looks like a chick. But it doesn’t hurt to check them out. That could be the kid in the sidecar.” One rider pointed out. “If Jensen is alive—which I doubt—he may have passed the kid along to the chick.”
