Take Me, Outlaw(14)

“Okay, so no bars, no clubs, and no fancy restaurants,” Rafe ticked off. “So what kinds of places do you like to go, then?”



“Actually,” I confessed, “I like to go to little no-name diners. There are so many of them in the city, even twenty-four-hour ones. There's something so comforting about the big laminated menus with the pictures, and the smells coming from the kitchen, and the fact that you can get a greasy breakfast at any time of day. Whenever I'm lonely or I can't sleep, I just slide into a booth with a good book and order pancakes and a milkshake, or a big sloppy burger with fries. The waitresses all call me honey or darlin', and the other customers leave me alone. I love it. Sometimes it even feels more like home than my real home does.”



Rafe smiled again. Perversely, now that it this adventure was about to be over, I felt like I was going to miss the chance to get used to that smile. The thought gave me a weird twinge of regret.



“Well, how about this?” Rafe offered. “There's a diner just up the road. I've been there a couple of times, and I can personally vouch for how big and sloppy the burgers are.” I giggled, and his smile widened as he continued. “So how about I treat you to a nice, artery-clogging breakfast, and then give you a ride back to Chi? After all the shit you've had to deal with, it's the least I can do.”



“Okay,” I agreed. “That sounds perfect.”



At last, I thought. Everything can go back to normal.





Chapter 13




Rafe



After the weirdly-close moment I'd had with Jewel after she'd stubbed her toe, I wasn't able to sleep any more, which was good. I was already cursing myself for dozing off in the first place when I was supposed to be looking out for the Mancusos.



Still, I had my handgun right next to me and I'd always been a light sleeper. All it would have taken to wake me up was a hand trying the doorknob, and I'd have been up and ready. Plus, I knew Chucky would be awake in the front office, watching out for headlights and suspicious-looking people.



By the time the first rays of sunlight peeked around the curtains, I was starting to feel pretty damn certain that no one was coming for us. If the Mancusos had been that serious about finding us, they'd have sent their guys to poke around every motel up the highway and they'd have reached us by now. My guess was that at this point, they were probably mostly concerned with keeping Angelo out of jail by trying to establish an alibi for him.



That, or maybe I'd even inadvertently told the truth when I told Jewel the Mancusos could buy off the cops and judges. Again, Chucky hadn't been able to confirm or deny that. But if it was true, they wouldn't need to waste time and manpower combing the highway for us. They could just let it drop, and if Jewel ever did come forward—which she hopefully wouldn't do—they could deal with her then.



I wanted to believe there was more that Jewel could tell me to help me find Jester, but I was positive I'd gotten everything I was going to get from her. Part of me wondered if I just wanted to convince myself otherwise because she was so fucking hot.



I'd caught myself starting to think about what she might be like in bed, or even out of it. Most civilian chicks who'd been through this kind of nightmare would have completely fallen apart, but she'd kept it mostly together despite the one panic attack, and she'd even managed a joke last night. That was impressive.



Then again, I'd been in prison for seven years with no one to fuck but myself. I hadn't even treated myself to some tail at my coming-home party. I was probably just hornier than I wanted to admit and it was making me drool over the first hot girl I spent any real length of time with. Once this was over, I told myself I'd find someone slutty to lay for a night or two just to clear the cobwebs. After that, I'd probably never give Jewel another thought.



Yeah, an unexpected voice in my head smirked. Right. Sure. You'll just forget all about her. Just keep telling yourself that, stud.



While Jewel was still asleep, I snuck out of the room, closing the door gently behind me. I walked back to the main office, keeping one eye on the door to our room at all times. Before I reached the door, it opened and Chucky poked his head out.



“Restful night?” he asked.



“Hardly,” I chuckled. “See anything weird?”



“Nope,” Chucky said. “No cops, no Mancusos. Only other folks we had show up last night were a couple newlyweds, too drunk to make it home from a party. Good thing they pulled in here 'fore they caused a wreck or somethin'.” He hocked and spat, then dug his pinky in his ear and twisted it around. He pulled it out, looked at it expectantly, grunted with disappointment, and wiped it off on the seat of his overalls. “So now what, boy? You stayin' on the lam with the girl?”



“Nah,” I said. “Looks like the stuff with her has blown over. I'll get her home and then go try to finish this thing with Jester.”



“An' that's it?” Chucky asked disbelievingly. “You ain't never gonna see her 'gain after that?”



I raised my eyebrows at him. “Why? You gonna call dibs if I say yes?”



Chucky cackled. “Yeah, maybe 'bout twenny years an' a hunnert pounds ago,” he said. “Naw, it's just when you been runnin' a motel as long as I have, ya start to get a sense of these things, is all. I saw you two show up, an' yeah, clearly there was some kinda shit hittin' some sorta fan an' things was tense. But there was more to it between you, too. Almost gave ya a room with one bed 'steada two, that's how sure I was.”



“Well, good thing you didn't,” I smirked, thinking of what a bummer it would have been to spend the night on the fucking floor. Suddenly, I remembered something. “Hey, by the way, do you know if Jester's got any places up in Milwaukee? Clubs he's a silent partner in, or fronts to launder money, that kind of stuff?”



Chucky scratched the stubble on his chin, thinking it over. “Well, nothin' I've heard of,” he mused. “He mostly sticks to Chicago fer that stuff, since it's easier for 'im to keep an eye on.”



“Shit,” I said. “That's what I thought. Thanks, though, Chucky.”



“Now, that fella Maggot, he's a different story,” Chucky added. “You remember him? Nasty little piece a' work, always nippin' at the heels of Jester an' them other Mancusos an' tattlin' between 'em every chance he got.”



Maggot again. That was interesting. “What about him?” I asked.



“Nothin', 'cept that settin' up shop in Milwaukee was his thing. Soon as the Mancusos promoted that slimy fucker to soldier 'steada piss-boy a couple years back, it was all he could talk about. He was gonna open a place for 'em in Milwaukee, he was gonna make 'em a shit-pot fulla money, an' blah blah blah. They finally gave 'im some scratch to set up a nightclub up there. The Flytrap, he called it. Pretty much ran it into the ground. Fuckin' asshole.”



If Chucky hadn't been Chucky, I think I might have actually kissed the bastard. Finally, a solid lead. Whatever Maggot had that Jester wanted, he'd almost certainly stashed it at The Flytrap. Maybe I could find a way to grab it and use it to draw Jester out.



I quickly considered my options. I needed to get to Milwaukee, but I couldn't drag Jewel along with me. But time was against me since Jester's men might already have passed us on their way to Wisconsin, so if I took the time to bring Jewel back to Chicago, there'd be no way for me to beat them there and I'd be back to square one. So unless I could snap my fingers and magically transport myself to The Flytrap...



That gave me an idea. I couldn't make myself suddenly appear there ahead of Jester's boys, but I could do the next best thing.



“Chucky, can I use your phone?” I asked.



“Go right ahead, boy,” he replied. “I'll keep an eye on yer room.”



I walked into the office, picked up the phone, and dialed a Wisconsin number. The War Reapers' main chapter was based in Chicago, but there were a few smaller chapters scattered around the Midwest. There wasn't one in Milwaukee, but Madison had one. Their chapter weren't as badass as ours was, since Madison wasn't particularly rough territory. Still, we'd been on a couple runs together years ago, and they'd usually do us favors when we asked them to.



A voice answered, “Snoops here.” I remembered Snoops as a chubby, cheerful Reaper with a long red beard and a cartoon dog tattooed on the side of his neck.



“Hey, Snoops, it's Rafe Logan. Dunno if you remember me, it's been a while...”



“Sure, I remember you!” Snoops exclaimed. “You went on a run with us about nine, ten years ago, right? You were the guy who did all those crazy stunts and shit. Man, we still talk about that!”



You guys must get pretty bored, I thought, smiling. “Yeah, that's me. Listen, I know we ain't talked in a while and I hate to hit you up for a favor...”



“No problem, pal!” Snoops said. I couldn't remember if all of the Madison War Reapers were this chipper. I guessed that they might be. They spent most of their time riding around on weekends and doing charity runs. The most hardcore thing they did was deal dime bags of pot to college kids.



“Thanks,” I said. “I fuckin’ appreciate it. There's a nightclub in Milwaukee. It's called The Flytrap. Can you ask your guys to ride over and stake it out, just until I get up there? Keep your patches hidden and try to stay out of sight. It shouldn't be more than a day, tops.”