Innocent Ride Page 9

  “I called you in here to inform you that we have to transfer you to another account executive.” He pauses, waiting for me to react or acknowledge.

  I simply nod my head in understanding.

  “You will be transferred to Mrs. Thompson effective immediately, and you may move your desk contents tomorrow.

  “I don’t know anything further at this time, but the officers are here because Mr. Stillwell was found dead in his home yesterday afternoon. They will be here tomorrow morning, conducting interviews with everyone he associated with. However, since you worked directly for Mr. Stillwell, they would like to ask you a few questions today. I will escort you all to a conference room where the two detectives here can talk with you privately.”

  Chad is dead. Oh, my God, Chad is dead. The room spins as the shock overcomes me.

  The detectives move to the doorway, waiting for Mr. Thorton and me to make our way over to them.

  The conference room we go to isn’t the big one I am used to. The room houses a table for six with the oversized chairs dwarfing the space. The marker board lining the back wall, the projector on a cart in the corner, the phone in the center of the table with the speaker for client conference calls, all scream boring office. However, right now, this is far from boring or normal office time. Chad is dead, and these detectives want to speak to me privately.

  “Miss Milton, I am Detective Liam McCarthy, and this is my partner, Bruce Longhorn. We won’t take much of your time. We understand on Saturday night you attended a company engagement with Mr. Stillwell. Is this correct?”

  “Yes,” I reply meekly.

  “We think you may be the last person who saw him alive because he was found still in his suit from that event. We need to inform you, we are investigating his death as a possible homicide. Do you know of any enemies Mr. Stillwell had? Is there anything from that night that stands out to you? ”

  “I didn’t know Chad—I mean, Mr. Stillwell—that well,” I stammer, thinking I didn’t know him well enough to know he was scum before I was in too deep. “The driver took him home from the dinner that night.”

  “You didn’t ride home with him?”

  “No, I … I went home with my friend who also attended the event.”

  “Is there anyone who would want him dead?”

  Yeah, me two days ago, I think, but don’t dare speak.

  “Who is the friend that you left with so we can verify this information?”

  I draw in a deep breath. “Drexel Crews took me home.”

  “Any enemies? Or anyone you can think of who would have a problem with Mr. Stillwell, no matter how minor the dispute?”

  I shake my head while my mind attempts to process everything they are telling me.

  “Thank you for your time, Miss Milton. Here is my card. If you think of anything at all from that night or about Mr. Stillwell, please don’t hesitate to call.”

  They wait for me to stand, and we all exit the office. I make a right and head back to my desk as they make a left to exit the building.

  Gathering my things, I leave work with my mind all over the place.

  Chad is dead. Homicide. This feels like I should be in some sort of crazy movie; only, I am not in a film, this is my life.

  ~Rex~

  R u okay? Rex

  I send the text message, silently begging my phone to ping in response. Where the fuck is she? I have too many questions, too many unknown variables with this Chad Stillwell guy to feel comfortable with her not replying. I know she was working earlier, but no response and it is well past normal operating hours for her company.

  The walls feel like they are closing in on me inside my small house, and the longer she takes to reply, the more uneasy I feel.

  Unable to wait around, I climb on my new bike and take off. The Harley Davidson Fat Boy Special feels different than my original Road King. The weight difference gives an odd sensation under me. The turns are tighter, and it makes the ride even more powerful.

  The road is before me, and I don’t give a second thought to my destination. Her apartment comes into view before my brain catches up with my location. Restless and frustrated, I end up here like a pussy-whipped, little bitch. What the hell is wrong with me?

  Seeing her car in its designated spot, I breathe easier. Then, when her curtains move, I know she is inside. For some reason, I can’t bring myself to get off the bike, though. I can’t move. I sit, unmoving, merely allowing the pavement to hold me and my bike upright like a duck perched on a nest. I should move. I should leave. After all, she stopped replying to my messages. No, I don’t do that, though. I stay perched, firmly perched. I am a fucking pussy.

  When her curtains move again, I sigh. Now, I am the creepy pussy. Do I leave?

  She has caught me twice now outside her place, so what do I do? I sit.

  Taking my helmet off, I rest it on the gas tank as I run my hands through my hair, pulling it back in a low ponytail. The curtains move again, and I think for sure I need to leave now. If she freaks out and calls the cops, how am I supposed to explain this?

  “Yes, officer, I understand we had sex two nights ago and now she doesn’t want to see me. No, officer, I wasn’t invited here,” I mutter to myself. God, I am losing my damn mind over this broad.

  There is movement at her breezeway, and I watch closely, holding my breath. When she comes safely into view, I exhale as she continues her way to me without making eye contact.

  “Rex, why are you here?”

  “Checkin’ on you.” I decide to keep my responses simple in hopes I can stay out of trouble with her.

  Once she finally looks in my eyes, I feel a piece of me die inside. She is cold, distant, and almost fearful as she stands on the edge of the sidewalk, not coming near me or my bike.

  “Lux, talk to me. We were fine earlier, but now I don’t have the cold shoulder from you; I have the fuckin’ Berlin wall between us.”

  “Bad day, Rex, and you aren’t good for me,” she states, shuffling on her feet like she wants to turn and run.

  “I’m not good for anyone,” I mutter, knowing what she says is the truth.

  She looks around like she is watching for something without responding to me, nervous. Something is wrong.

  “Talk to me, Lux.”

  Still searching with her eyes, she meets my gaze again, and fear fills her eyes. “Are you following me, Rex? Are the Hellions watching me?”

  “Are you afraid of me?”

  She looks at me, not blinking, moving, or breathing. “Yes.”

  As I throw the kick stand down on my bike and climb off, she backs up yet doesn’t break eye contact. She may be afraid, but she is refusing to back down.

  “Lux, stop,” I command, and thank fuck she listens. For a minute, I was afraid she was going to bolt, and then I really would be the pussy whipped pansy to chase after her.

  Fighting my instincts to reach out and hold her, I shove my hands into my jeans pockets.

  “Talk to me. You weren’t afraid of me a few hours ago, so what changed? Something happened.”

  She rolls her shoulders back, steeling her resolve.

  “Did you kill Chad?” she asks bluntly.

  “What the fuck?” I roar. “You can’t possibly think that,” I scream, not caring who hears.

  I am in shock. Is Chad dead, or did he lie to her and say I threatened him in some way?

  “Tell me what the hell is going on here,” I try to calm my frustrations.

  Her bottom lip quivers as she fights to keep her emotions in check.

  “Are you following me?”

  “No,” I reply honestly.

  She searches my face like she is trying to catch me lying.

  “Look, sweetheart, please don’t take offense, but I don’t have the hours in the day to spend following you around. I came here tonight because I knew Chad was a dick, and you would have to spend all day with him fuckin’ with you. When you didn’t reply to my messages, I was worried, but then I got here
, saw your car, saw you in the window, and I realized you were blowing me off.

  “Your pussy is good, but it’s not that good. I’m a grown man with a business and club to run. Priority one is your safety, sure, but that doesn’t require stalking. So, once again, no, Lux, I’m not following you, and I don’t have a man on you. Now, for the love of everything holy, could you please tell me what the fuck is goin’ on?”

  With her features finally relaxing, I think she believes me. I hope she believes me. Damn, she has me twisted and tied in knots.

  “Chad is dead.” The words come out in a whisper.

  “And you thought it was me?” I pace the sidewalk in annoyance. “You think that a guy gives you a hard time at work, and I’m just gonna kill him? Wow, you honestly think I’m a heartless, cold-blooded killer with no code? Damn, sweetheart, I’m a fuckin’ bastard, but there is a code I live by. A code that means fuckin’ everything.”

  She reaches out, grabbing my arm and stopping me, her determined eyes meeting mine.

  “Tell me you haven’t ever killed someone, Rex. Tell me the Hellions aren’t an outlaw club. Tell me Tripp hasn’t killed someone. Go ahead, buddy, tell me.”

  Oh, hell, this broad has balls. She’s challenging, testing, pushing the limits, and it turns me the fuck on.

  “Not gonna lie to you, Lux.”

  “Good to know.” She releases my arm.

  “I told you I live by a code. If someone messes with what’s mine or the club’s, there are consequences for those actions, and the people who cross those lines know it going in. I promise you on everything I have—I promise you on my son—I did not kill Chad.”

  “Did you have him killed?”

  The doubts she has kill me.

  Turning my back to her, I stalk back to my bike. I have taken my beating. Besides, I am far from perfect, and I don’t deserve the good in her. I don’t deserve anything good in my life. Allowing myself a taste of that was a mistake. Regardless, my chest hurts from what I am leaving behind tonight.

  “Rex, answer me.”

  “Your answer lies inside you. Knowing you could think this of me and my lifestyle … This was all a mistake. I don’t fit in your world, and you sure as shit don’t understand mine if you think so little of me and my club.” I climb on my bike and secure my helmet.

  “Rex—” she starts.

  “Nah, sweetheart. It’s good to know this now, Lux. I’m not a perfect man, never have been. And you deserve good, Lux. Go find your good. It’s not inside me, even you couldn’t find it.”

  Without another word, I crank my bike, twisting the throttle under my hand and revving the engine to drown out the words I see coming from her lips. Slamming my foot on the clutch, I shift and roll backwards without meeting her gaze. Then I pull away, fighting the urge to look in my mirror to see if she is still watching me.

  I have killed before. Not without cause, though. She has yet to be completely upfront with what Chad did to her; as a result, we are still evaluating the threat from him. There is no one, not me or any member of the Hellions, who would take him out without cause and proof that he hurt one of our own. Would I have killed him for Lux? If the threat warranted such action, yes, I would have without hesitation. That is why it is best I pull away now.

  She doesn’t understand the protection that comes with being in my world. Ol’ ladies are off limits, and not just for me to put my dick in, but from the violence, the crime, the negative sides of our world that do not touch our women and children. If it does, we eliminate the threat. Vengeance and retribution will be served like fucking dessert for crossing the lines drawn in the sand.

  To think I took him out for making her life a little difficult at work lets me know where I stand in Caroline’s mind. She doesn’t know Chad’s history like I do, but even that wasn’t enough for us to make a move like murder.

  The hardest thing to do is to let go of something good for you when you know you aren’t good for them. She is the deluxe model—all class, one fine ass, and a fierce woman who owns her opinions, even when she is afraid there is no holding back.

  The more you hurt, the more you heal, or so they say. Well, I feel the pain. So, to the bitch called life, bring on the healing.

  Chapter Ten

  Someone’s Watching

  ~Caroline~

  Women’s intuition, my ass. I swear I can feel someone’s eyes on me. I am wrong, though. Sure, Rex was out here for almost an hour sitting in my additional parking spot, but it wasn’t him watching me. I thought it was, but I can still feel it: the creepy edge of eyes following; the feeling you can’t shake, no matter how hard you try. My imagination is working in overdrive.

  I actually let my mind run wild. Not only did I think Rex might have killed Chad, I confronted him.

  I tuck my hair behind my ears as I finally turn and go back into my apartment. I have been standing on the sidewalk, dumbfounded, long since Rex pulled away.

  I was so shocked by Chad being dead I didn’t think clearly. I have attended events with the Hellions, and I lived with Delilah and Savannah for years. I know the club is dangerous. With one look at any of the guys, anyone would be on edge. The other side of them, though, I know all about that. I know about the charity runs they do. I know how much they give back to their local communities. Every year, the club in its entirety comes together to ride Rolling Thunder, putting all business aside to make the ride a show of patriotism and respect for all who defend our country.

  Your answer lies inside you.

  Rex’s words play on repeat in my head as I toss and turn, unable to sleep. The next day, I go through the motions at work. Luckily, Kenna seems to understand I am in a strange place mentally, and she has kept things light and easy. She seems to be conflicted in her own way over the news of Chad’s death.

  The week passes in a blur of transition. The detectives have returned and had me revisit the night of the event again. In going over it, they are going to be interviewing Rex. I tried to call and warn him. He did threaten Chad, after all. Although, I did inform the detectives, “Mr. Crews spent the majority of the night at my apartment,” giving me the best sexual experience of my life. Of course, I didn’t give them those details, but nevertheless, I hope I am his alibi. The last thing I want to do is bring trouble for him or his club that has been nothing except welcoming to me.

  What is worse, I can’t help wondering if the club is watching me. Everywhere I go, I feel like I have eyes on me. I swear there is a blue car following me to and from work every day. Maybe the detectives have someone watching me. I mean, I was the last person to see Chad alive.

  Pushing the thoughts down, I make my way home after another long day of things unsaid between Kenna and me. I think she wants to talk about Chad, yet doesn’t know how to bring it up. In my mind, I keep going back to the thoughts of Chad’s file on me. Should I call my mom and give her a warning? What if the police go through his computer? I know he had a copy of all of that saved somewhere.

  I step inside my apartment, and a strange fear runs through me, pulling me out of my thoughts. Looking around, everything seems fine. Still on edge, I take a quick shower and pour myself a glass of wine. Then I sit down to lose myself in reality television that is far from real, needing a distraction.

  After an hour of flipping channels, three glasses of wine, and still not feeling relaxed, I try to call Delilah to talk through everything going on around me.

  No answer.

  Anxiety continues to build as I decide to watch a movie. A good comedy should be enough mindless entertainment to pass the time.

  Going over to the corner wall, I scan my shelf of DVDs, only to find they are out of order. I live my life with everything having its place and staying there. If it looks right, it will be right. So, why are my movies out of order?

  My chest tightens when my eyes reach the shelf above the movies. My photo albums are shifted. I run my fingers along the spines, realizing my albums are out of order, as well. Then it hits me, on
e small one is gone.

  Missing.

  Vanished.

  Taken.

  My hands tremble as I make my way to the window. I scan the parking area, looking for something, anything to tell me who is following me. Who has been in my apartment?

  Without a second thought, I move back to the couch and pick up my phone. Sliding it on, I enter my pass code then go to contacts. Then I find his number and hit send.

  “You got Rex, leave a message.”

  When the beep sounds, I hesitate. “Rex,” I whisper before ending the call.

  My hands shake and I jump when the phone vibrates in my hand. I slide it to answer as I fight back the tears of fear threatening to escape.

  “What’s wrong, Lux?”

  “I … I…” I stutter before I get angry. I called him earlier this week, and he ignored my messages about the cops. “I’m stupid for calling. Forget it.” I try to steady my voice yet fail miserably.

  “Lux, it’s obvious something is seriously wrong. Talk to me. This is more than the cops questioning you.”

  “You … You got my message.” I am fighting to get the words out clearly as I scan my space, looking for anything else out of place.

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “Okay, I just want to make sure, you know. I, umm, I told the cops about our night together.” I try for casual conversation as I go around, double checking all my locks, deadbolts, and windows. This is my problem, not his.

  “Did you tell them you got off?” he asks with an arrogance that is completely Drexel Crews.

  “No,” I laugh.

  “Tryin’ to protect me, Lux?”

  “Maybe.” I decide to be honest with him. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Rex.”

  “You should know you don’t have to protect me. I didn’t do anything, so there is nothing for them to find.”

  “I know you didn’t do anything. I know the club didn’t do anything. I guess I let my mind get ahead of me. It’s all been so surprising.”

  “You wanna tell me why you called tonight?”

  “It’s dumb. I felt like someone has been following me, but I’m overreacting. How are you doing?”