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“I know,” Caleb repeated. “I know who he is, what they are.”
“I am serious, Caleb. He won’t care that she’s a woman. He’ll skin her alive and you too if he thinks you’re helping her. I won’t be able to talk him down.”
In another life, his pre-Army life, Chris Sullivan’s father had been the president of the Badlands Buzzards, though he’d been killed in prison when Chris was a teenager. If Chris hadn’t enlisted, he’d be the president now, with Jack Prior his second. Caleb couldn’t envision Chris intentionally hurting much less killing a woman, but sometimes life had a way of turning hard men dark, especially if you were born to it, the way Chris was, the way Caleb was. He looked down at his bruised knuckles and lifted his hand.
“This is just from some asshole who broke into her room at the Rainbow. Nothing to do with Prior or the guy she’s looking for. But,” and he hadn’t realized this until he was saying it out loud, “I am going to help her.”
Shooter did not look happy.
“Well, what’s RCPD say about it?” Easy asked. “Are they giving you back up or—?”
Caleb shook his head. “No. RCPD’s not involved.”
Easy frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“I’m not—” Caleb cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m not RCPD,” he told them. “Not officially, not at the moment.” He sighed. “I got suspended.”
“For what?” Easy asked.
“Shooting some asshole.”
“Did he need to be shot?” Hawk asked.
“Absolutely,” Caleb said firmly. “But brass might not agree. They’re investigating. Going to decide whether or not they’re going to let me come back.”
“Will they?” Shooter asked bluntly.
Caleb hesitated, rolling it around in his mind, then shook his head. “Honestly? I don’t think so.”
Hawk let out a low whistle.
“Jesus,” Easy said quietly. “Just… Jesus.”
“So, I’m helping Isabelle,” he announced, though he hadn’t yet asked her what she thought about that. “Got nothing better to do. And I’m not keen on letting a woman get killed in my town. While it still is my town,” he added quietly.
“You don’t know her,” Shooter reminded him. “She could be trouble.”
“Yeah, I’m aware,” Caleb replied. He wasn’t certain if this girl was trouble in the way Shooter meant it, but he glowered as he remembered ordering her to go back to her car and how she’d come into the room anyway.
Isabelle Boucher was going to be some kind of trouble, no doubt about it.
“We’ll get your bike to your house,” Shooter told him. “After closing time.”
Caleb nodded his thanks and turned to go.
“So, if this girl isn’t Sioux Falls,” Easy called after him, “then who’s Sioux Falls?”
Caleb paused and turned back to face the men.
“Easy,” Shooter said quietly.
“What?” Easy replied. “I want to know. All this time, we’ve never met her. We don’t even know her name. So, what’s up… Doc?” he asked with a grin. But he was the only one smiling.
Caleb had never told them exactly where he was going one weekend a month, every month since he’d settled in South Dakota. But between Shooter’s ability to read men (he had been their lieutenant, after all) and Tex’s degree in psychology, Caleb was fairly certain that the older men had their suspicions about his road trips. Out of respect for him, they’d never asked for confirmation.
“She’s no one,” Caleb told the youngest man.
Easy frowned. “What do you mean no one? Like she doesn’t exist?”
Caleb sighed and shook his head.
“Easy,” Shooter chastised again quietly.
Easy looked around at the other. “What?! You know you want to know. What’s with all the cloak and dagger shit? What—”
“She’s a pro,” Caleb finally admitted.
Easy paused, mouth open, eyebrows raised. In the ensuing silence, he said, “Oh.”
“I met her in a hotel bar. Went there to find her, or a woman like her. She’s nice enough, doesn’t hustle too hard.”
“I can’t believe you pay for it,” Easy told him.
“Alright,” Shooter said, concluding the family meeting. “We’ll get your bike back. I want to know what’s going on with Prior. Keep me in the loop. Let’s finish up,” he told the others.
“But why do you pay for it?” Easy pressed. “You could have any woman you want for free. Why—”
“Work, Turnbull,” Shooter ordered, laying on his lieutenant-tone. “Now.”
Caleb walked back to the car and slid into the driver’s seat.
“Everything okay?” Izzy asked.
“More or less,” he replied and started the engine. He left the garage and headed across town. They rode in blissful silence—blissful because he wouldn’t have known what to say. Small talk wasn’t exactly his strong suit. Izzy seemed comfortable enough, though, just looking out the window.
“Getting chilly,” she remarked. “What’s winter like here?”
“Brutal,” he said. “But summer is nice.”
He turned onto his own street, past the small houses with well-kept yards.
“Good neighborhood?”
“So-so.”
Izzy took the keys from him and slipped a small silver one into the top of the lockbox at her feet. She popped the top and pulled out not a pistol but a digital camera. Caleb didn’t know much about equipment like that, but it looked fairly expensive. She cradled it in one arm as she opened the passenger door and stepped out.
