Damon:A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel(74)

He flipped open the screen and quickly added his number to the contacts  list. At least, his current number. Soon, probably, he'd find himself  with a new burner, a new phone, and then she wouldn't be able to find  him. He found her burner's number on the packaging and entered it into  his own contacts. Same story, though. Eventually, she'd get a new phone.  She'd have a new life. They'd never cross paths again …

The thought was too painful to dwell on, and he let it pass through his  mind quickly, without lingering. His heart felt like it was in a vise,  and every moment that passed brought him closer to losing her, tightened  the screws a bit more. It would be better to just get it over with. The  waiting to lose her  –  that, surely, was the worst of it.

It had to be. Didn't it?

He left his apartment, trotted back to the bar. She hadn't moved, was  sitting behind her veil of hair at the bar. Didn't even look up as he  drew near. Honey and Endo were still acting like they had front-row  seats to the hottest concert of the summer, though when he shot them a  knowing sneer they got busy looking elsewhere.

He wondered what Endo was doing outside of the kitchen; as far as Reign  knew, he was supposed to be on lunch duty. But it didn't matter; being  next in line to lead the club meant Reign knew about what happened at  the bar but wasn't required to give a damn about the day-to-day  operations. He knew his interest lay mostly in his irritation over Endo  and Honey acting like they had the right to peek in on this private  moment.

He lay his hand on Gabriella's shoulder and she jumped. When she looked  at him, he saw only fear in her eyes. That was worse than the tears.

I'm gonna go kill her husband, he suddenly thought. I'll go to Colorado and I'll kill him and then she can come back to me.

You're gonna do that like you're gonna set fire to the bar, the rational  part of him said. He knew he would do nothing of the sort. It was one  thing to harbor a slave; another thing entirely to lynch the slaver. He  didn't need to make any waves outside of Utah, not for himself and not  for the Black Smokes. His duty and his life were one in the same. She  was his heart, but that had to take the backseat.

"Oh," she said as he lay his gifts out on the bar.

"The phone can't be traced to you. Neither can the ID's. They'll get you  where you need to go, baby. And I'll make some calls, and get you a  contact down in Juarez. My number's in there," Reign said, pointing the  phone, which Gabriella held, staring at it like it was some sort of  strange alien food. She nodded, though. He reached out to her again,  this time taking her chin between his fingers and lifting her face to  his.         

     



 

"You can call me whenever," he said, keeping his eyes on hers although  they wanted to look elsewhere. It hurt so much to look into those eyes,  but it would haunt him forever if he decided this was the right moment  to take the easy way out. "Say it. Tell me when you can call me."

She croaked out something. He smiled, shook his head.

"Say it, baby."

"I can call you whenever," she finally said after taking a deep, shaky  breath. She closed her eyes, opened them quickly when he gave her chin  the slightest shake. She looked like maybe she was trying to smile back,  like she was trying to be brave. That was a good idea. She'd need to be  brave.

"I don't know how these things happen, baby. I ain't ever felt anything  like this before in hella years. And three days was all it took. Damn,  they say these words are hard to say but … shit, I never knew how right  they were," Reign said, forcing a chuckle. He was telling the truth;  there were women, many women, too many women, who'd wanted to hear those  words, and to whom he'd said them. They'd rolled right off the tongue,  easy as pie, and he hadn't mean them in the slightest.

Now, when it was true, when it was all he could feel, when it seemed  like every speck of dust and drop of water on the earth had been put  there just to bring him to Gabriella's arms, he couldn't say those  words. They caught in his throat, threatened to choke him if he didn't  swallow. Or cough them out.

"I love you," he finally managed, and watched as her face flit from joy  to sorrow to joy to sorrow -- tossing and turning from one to the other  at breakneck speed. She opened her mouth as though to say something in  return, but he wouldn't let her. Instead, he leaned in, met her parted  lips with his own, and took all of her in that one moment. It seemed to  stretch out forever and end too soon all at the same time, their tongues  meeting briefly, one last breathless embrace.

And then she was gone.





25





The truck slowed to a crawl passing the motel and bar. A gleaming red  Ford Mustang sat in front of room 7. So she got new wheels after all,  Silas thought, happy he'd thought to double-check. He'd assumed  something of the sort had happened when the car that had been parked  outside her room had disappeared the second day she'd been there.

Of course, it was possible that the Mustang belonged to a new guest  –   but he knew enough about shitty motels in shitty towns to know that if  it was empty and the staff had the choice to clean a dirty room and put  someone new in it or not clean the dirty room and just put newcomers in a  different room, the latter was the most likely.

There was still a little risk that she'd already skipped town, but Silas  was confident enough she hadn't not to risk going back into the bar to  wait for her to show up. He was done spying; he'd been there too long  anyway, and it would only draw more attention now that he'd skipped a  day of pretending to be a barfly.

"That's where she's staying?" Jeremy demanded.

"Could be. Could be in her new beau's room now," Silas answered  noncommittally. Of course, it was true. She was probably keeping her  stuff in the motel room and lounging in bed with her biker stud at that  very moment. Reign was probably tickling her in all the right places,  making her squeal like a pig. The image amused him, especially  considering the fact that the fuming, jilted husband beside him was  probably thinking the same thing with considerably less good humor.

"Shut up," Jeremy grunted, and Silas bit back a smile. He hit the gas  and sped off past the bar. If he'd gone a little slower, if he'd rolled  past a few minutes later, he would have seen Gabriella dashing from the  bar to the Ford. He would have seen Reign follow her outside and stand  watching from the wooden porch as she peeled out of the parking space.  He would have seen her pull up beside him, their eyes locked, their  mouths closed in solemn understanding.

As it was, he missed all that, but it worked out for him. If he'd seen  all that, he would never have had the time to put his plan in action the  right way. He'd have to make something up on the fly, something Silas  was quite capable of but preferred to avoid whenever possible.

When he did see that car again, they were a mile or so ahead of her. He  narrowed his eyes, squinting into the rearview, and muttered "shit"  under his breath. Jeremy, who had nothing to do but listen to Silas'  breathing, picked up on it, his head snapping towards Silas.

"What?" Jeremy demanded. Silas rolled his eyes, favored Jeremy with a condescending smile.

"Nothing," Silas said. "Just looks like you won't have to do much waiting, after all. Looks like the girl's on the move."         

     



 

He nodded towards the rearview mirror even as he sped up, breaking the  speed limit without a whit of concern. Jeremy had just a glimpse of  bright red on the road behind them before it was blotted out by the dust  rising around the truck's tires.

"Are we ready? Shit, are we ready?" Jeremy asked, lifting himself up in  his seat, his eyes widening. Go ahead and have your little shitfit, kid,  but don't fuck this up for us, Silas thought.

"We're fine. I'm just gonna put a few more miles between us. But you're  gonna have to be quick with that spike strip. You look strong enough,"  Silas said, hoping his voice would be enough to calm the cop down. He  only needed Jeremy to help him with the spikes that would rip  Gabriella's tires to shreds; after that, Jeremy could go full-on psycho.

"Yeah, yeah," Jeremy said, now seeming eager to please. Silas could get  used to this side of Jeremy. A few minutes later, the road was nearly  enveloped by a fog of sand and dust, and the red Mustang was nowhere in  sight. Silas veered off quickly, coming to a sudden stop on the side of  the road.

"Now," he barked, and Jeremy hopped to it. Musta been a great student at  the Academy, Silas thought, noting how suddenly attentive and obedient  Jeremy had become. A great clanking clatter from the bed of the truck as  Silas got out told him that they'd have no trouble getting the spike  strip on the road before Mrs. Policeman could catch sight of them. He  watched Jeremy trot across the road, spreading the strip as he went.  Silas leaned against the truck, a wicked smile on his face. This job was  even easier than he thought it'd be.