I Hear Voices(13)
Deeter inquired in an extremely polite tone, “Done yet?”
“Think so.”
He grabbed me and yanked my t-shirt right off.
“Hey! Give it back.”
“When I’m finished.”
I gaped in horror as he used my shirt to clean off his bike, his crotch and his boots.
“Here ya go,” Dixon said, holding out my puke encrusted shirt.
I backed away. “Ewww. You can keep it. All I want to know is why you’re doing this?”
He rubbed a hand over his shaved head and shrugged. “You’re my property. I protect what’s mine.”
I rolled my eyes. God, he kinda sounded like Derek. “About that… I know you made me an honorary member of the Dirty Dozen when I saved your daughter from that murderous pedophile but this is nuts. I’m not your property. You don’t owe me anything. Just leave me here. You have no idea what’s going on or what kind of trouble I’m in.”
“You took a gold medallion from the Phoenix Art Museum. You’re hoping it will lead you to Montezuma’s gold. Sloan also wants the gold and knows he needs your psychic woo-woo shit to find it. That about sum it up?”
I stared at him in opened mouth astonishment.
“Yeah, but… How in hell do you know that?”
His gray eyes surveyed me with a distinct lack of favor. “Sloan and I have butted heads before.
When he showed up in Phoenix, I wanted to know why.”
Wasn’t that just hunky dory? Two alpha males fighting over little ole’ me.
A news helicopter dropped down to hover just above the trees.
Omigod! The entire world was being treated to an up close and personal view of my flab. I should have let Peg Leg shoot me. Darting under the trees, I eyed the nearby women’s restroom. Could I make it before…
“Don’t make me chase you,” Dixon, the mind reader, growled. He wheeled his motorcycle in front of me. “Get on.”
“That’s a really bad idea. Just leave me here.
You’ll never out run them.”
“Get.”
“On.”
“The.”
“Fucking bike.”
“Yes, sir.” I crawled on behind him and hung on for dear life as he roared off.
Chapter Seven
Those damned news helicopters just kept on following us like a bunch of vultures. The thought of millions and millions of people gawking at my so—
not-ready-for-prime-time-body gave
me
the
heebie-jeebies.
Granny Annabel floated effortlessly alongside the motorcycle. “Your man is a fearless hero and he will find a way to rescue you.”
I snorted. “Right. Derek’s faster than a speeding bullet and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Oh wait. He’s not Superman, he’s a giant pain-in-my ass.”
Dixon eyed me warily in the side mirror. “How hard did you hit your head?”
“Gee, let me think. Did I get my brains scrambled when the helicopter crashed and burned real pretty? Or did it happen when I crashed Derek’s Hummer and the airbags deployed too late?
Or maybe it was when Peg Leg smacked me in the face? Or could it have been when I was kidnapped by a maniac on a motorcycle that dangled me over his lap like a sack of potatoes?”
“Watch your tone,” Dixon snarled.
“Or what? You’ll toss me off the motorcycle and shoot me?”
“No, I’ll give you to Buzzard. He likes women with curves.”
“Be still my heart. Wait a minute. Buzzard!?
Isn’t he the dude with all those funky Marlon Brando tattoos?”
“Yes.”
Wasn’t I the luckiest girl in the world? The scary guy with the serial killer eyes liked me and my curves. “Does he really think he’s Marlon Brando reincarnated?”
Dixon nodded. “He’s a good man to have in a knife fight.”
Color me happy, a serial killer with a knife fetish. I hissed at Granny, “Where the hell is Derek?”
“Look behind you,” Granny responded.
I glanced over my shoulder. Holy Jesus! Lights flashing, sirens screaming a parade of police cars were hot on our heels. My brains really were scrambled not to have noticed that three ring circus.
“I don’t see Derek.”
Granny pointed.
I squinted trying to ignore those funny black spots that kept popping in and out of my vision.
Sure enough here came Derek, doing Mach one on Peg Leg’s Harley. He blew by the patrol cars like they were standing still.
One look at Sloan’s deadly expression and I groaned. When he caught up to us, I was going to
catch holy hell for stealing and wrecking his car.
Dixon would be lucky not to end up dead.
Wearily, I leaned my aching head against Dixon’s back and prayed for a miracle.
A police officer jumped out and threw a spiked stop strip.
Yelping, I grabbed a hold of Dixon’s belt as he abruptly swerved around the stick, barreled up on the sidewalk and missed the pissed off cop by inches.
For a long moment, I stared at the butt of a handgun protruding from the waistband of Dixon’s jeans. I’ll be damned. There was my miracle.
Yanking the gun out, I pressed it to the back of his skull and yelled, “Pull over.”
The jerk just laughed. “The safety’s on sweetheart.”
I flipped it off. “Not any longer. Stop the fucking bike.”
“You won’t shoot me.”
“Wanna bet?”
He laughed harder. “No bullets.”
Shit! I checked and sure enough, the clip was missing.
“Derek’s gonna have his hands full with you.”
Huh?
Without warning, Dixon zoomed into a parking garage and skidded to a stop next to our doubles on a matching red Harley.
I gaped at my clone. Damn, she really looked like me. How sad was that?
“Give me your t-shirt,” Dixon ordered.
My clone peeled it off and dropped it on the pavement.
Yikes! Not only was she braless, but she had screaming skulls tattooed on what had to be double E breasts. Gotta be a biker thing. Cuz sexy, it wasn’t.
“Go,” Dixon said and they squealed out of the parking garage.
“You really think it’s gonna work?”
He backed us into the shadows. “Watch.”
Derek screamed past in hot pursuit with the cop cars right on his tail.
Cocking my head, I listened as the helicopters took the bait, too.
Animosity glittering in his eyes, Dixon held his hand out. “Give me my fucking gun.”
I quickly handed it to him and watched as he shoved the clip in.
“You point a gun at a man you’d better be prepared to use it.”
“I was.”
Dixon shot me a derisive look and shoved the gun in his waistband. “You’re not a killer, sweetheart.”
I bared my teeth in a snarl. “A few more days like this one and I will be.”
An unholy smile pulled at Dixon’s mouth. “Has he fucked you yet?”
“What?”
“It’s a simple question. Have you slept with Sloan?”
“It’s none of your damned business.”
“Oh but it is.”
This was getting way out of hand. Clutching my stomach, I groaned and slid off the motorcycle. “I don’t feel so good.”
Dixon quickly backed away. “You puke on me again and so help me God, I’ll…”
A gun cocked and Derek inquired blandly, “You’ll do what? Smack her around?”
“No.” Dixon raised his hands and turned to face Derek. “But I’d be happy to smack you around.”
“Lose the gun.”
Using two fingers, Dixon carefully removed it and set it on the ground.
“Get over here, Angel.”
Before I could move, Dixon stepped in front of me. “She’s my property and you’re not taking her anywhere.”
“How much do you want for her?”
The ass actually thought he could buy me?
“One hundred thousand and ten percent of any gold you find,” Dixon answered.
“No! No and no! This is the United Fucking States and it’s against the law to sell people.” The urge to sock Dixon was getting stronger by the second.
Derek cocked a mocking eyebrow. “Is it?”
“Biker’s law gives me the right to sell any female I own,” Dixon added.
With a growl of rage, I scooped the gun off the floor and pointed it at Dixon. “I’m not for sale.”
Frowning, Derek took a step towards me. “Be careful, Angel.”
Dixon whipped his head around. His gray eyes burned with the promise of retaliation. “A little quality time with Buzzard should cure your rebellious streak.”
My lack of chocolate was making me a tad bit homicidal and a whole lot stupid. I fired off a round, missing his boot by an inch. “Move away from the bike.”
“Zelda, put the gun down before you get hurt,”
Derek snapped, moving towards me.
“Stop!” I aimed the pistol at him. “After all the crap you’ve put me through, don’t think I won’t shoot you, too.”
Exasperation flashed in Derek’s eyes. “I saved your ass today and a little gratitude would be nice.”
“Gratitude!?” I winced, that had come out a bit shrill. “Okay, you did keep that Apache warrior from killing me.”
“You’re damned right I did.”
Dixon chortled, “Seriously, an Apache warrior?”
“Yes,” we both snapped in unison.
I waved the gun around. “And I saved you and your men from the Thunder God, twice.”