Aching to Exhale (23 page)

Big Joe returned with coffee and donuts. Raul handed Crystal an apple fritter, knowing she preferred the fruity kind, and he took the chocolate frosted one. All four of them ate in silence, finishing the donuts and sipping their coffees.

His brothers eyed him, silently questioning if things were alright with Crystal. He shrugged, and received a glare from his woman. She never missed a thing, and he knew better than to fill the guys in on how she was handling their trip.

She didn't know it, but she was tough. He had all the confidence for her that she'd do fine with her parents, and he'd be there afterward to make sure she survived the experience.

After Raul walked the garbage to a nearby can, Duck yelled and held up his cell. Raul jogged over and snatched the phone. "Yeah?"

"Still no sign or call from Tango. There are twenty-eight of us about an hour out of Nevada. We're approximately a half hour behind four cars, a Victoria, Caddy, Lincoln, and some piece of Japanese tin that pulled away from the club about three this morning, a couple hours behind you," Layrd said. "What's your location?"

Raul gazed around the area for anyone suspicious, noting nothing out of the ordinary. For this ride, he'd keep his exact placement to himself in case there was a leak. "We'll keep you posted. Keep following the plan. Do not let them out of your sight."

"Got it, Prez."

Raul disconnected the call and tossed the cell to Duck. "Get ready to ride."

"Anything about Tango?" Big Joe sat on his motorcycle and slipped on his gloves.

"Not yet," he said. He had his suspicions whatever case brought Tango to the Lagsturns was now completed. The agent slipped away, leaving his motorcycle. No biker would ever leave his bike unless he was dead.

Tango's status was for the best. He'd get out alive with no one the wiser. Even Crystal hadn't noticed the fact that Tango knew too much. She thought of him as just another Lagsturns member.

He returned to Crystal's side. "I know you're not ready, but I need an address. We've got company coming."

She pressed her hand to the top of her chest. "612 Somner Avenue. It's gated, but I know how to get us in if they haven't updated the security in the last sixteen years. If not, you'll have to break in."

He grinned. "That I can do."

"Raul." She grabbed his vest. "Don't go in thinking you can railroad my parents. There's nothing normal about them, and if you think because they're well mannered and respected they'll want to keep a professional appearance, you're wrong. Don't underestimate them or their reach within their community."

Her concern touched him, but she had no idea what he'd done, the men he'd killed, the places he'd broken into during the last eight years that'd make her parents look like child's play. Most of the crimes he commented, he'd done for the right reasons. A few he did because it was necessary to keep up the charade of covering up his long-range goals. He was ready to end it all. Wipe the plate clean.

"Let me deal with getting you in to talk with your parents." He kissed her and stayed at her level, looking into her eyes. "I want one thing from you first."

"Trust you?" She snorted. "You have no idea how much I hate that request. It's getting old."

"Tell me about it, Mrs. Sanchez." He winked, chuckling at her look of disgust. Soon, he'd make her smile every time he called her his wife.

Following Crystal's directions, Raul planned how he'd leave her in the care of her parents. He hated to do it, but he had to pick the lesser of two evils. Los Li or a showman preacher who'd try to draw out the devil?

Hell, when this was over, Crystal was going to make him pay for his sins. He pressed his lips together to keep from grinning. He was going to like sinning with her.

As soon as he turned on Somner Avenue, he spotted the Donaldson's house. A two-story McMansion behind a high fenced barrier. The perfectly manicured grounds highlighted the red brick monstrosity, the circular drive with a water fountain in the middle, and a six-foot security fence. He peered closer at security and cussed. A group of twenty people stood outside the fence holding signs.

"What the hell?" he yelled back at Crystal.

She leaned in closer and spoke in his ear. "Some of Dad's followers. There's always been a crowd, even back when I lived here. They stand around and encourage him. I swear, he gets high on the attention and will stand at the front window for hours."

He rode on past the supporters, followed by Duck and Big Joe. The devote Donaldson followers yelled as they went by about finding salvation. He gunned the engine, drowning them out. If he had any other choice, he wouldn't put Crystal back amongst the radicals. They'd never accept her.

She was too free thinking, giving, and loveable to have the bitterness of the people who threw their judgmental shit in her direction. He held up his hand, turned, and went back around to the front of the house. Crystal had more goodness inside of her than   a normal person was allowed.

"Go to the other side of the gate, past the gatherers, and let me off. Then turn around and I'll have the gate open for you." Crystal pointed toward the fence line, forty feet from the gate. "Up there."

"Maybe we should park out here," he replied.

She patted his stomach once for no. "The gate automatically opens if you get inside. They can't lock you in."

Oh, yeah, well now he felt better. Maybe she forgot that he was packing heat, and a gate wasn't going to stop him from getting her and him out when the time comes. His only concern was her safety.

"Okay." He motioned to Duck. "Make the call."

Crystal's arms tightened around him as he slowed down. In ten seconds, Duck will have informed the media. He had approximately fifteen minutes to get her inside that house, the attention focused on her, and for him to slip away. If he were lucky, she wouldn't even realize he was gone until he could return and bring her home safely.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Nerves left Crystal's hand shaking. She reached above her head, smacked down several times on the horizontal metal pole running the length of the chain-linked fence. Her body vibrated as if electrocuted waiting to find out if the alarm inside the house alerted her parents to a trespasser.

Several minutes later, the front door remained closed and no one came out to investigate. She exhaled. At least she was right about one thing. Her parents were too cheap to update security after they kicked her out of the house.

She'd heard them discuss the layout of the alarm when she was a teenager and used the fact that the in-house warning only functioned if someone compromised the gate to her advantage. In high school, she'd climb over the fence to sneak away and meet friends. Until they caught her and made a public spectacle of her in front of their congregation and she repented.

She slipped her hands through the chain links and lifted her leg. She shoved the toe of her boot into the weaved-diamond pattern of the Cyclone fence. "Shit."

Barely able to get the tip of her boot into the linkage, she had serious doubt that she'd be able to pull herself over the fence. The last time she escaped the yard this way, she weighed twenty pounds less and had the strength of a teenage girl crushing hard on the football quarterback to motivate her. She glanced down the fencerow and heaved herself up a step, testing her hold.
I can do this.

She was older and wiser, more determined…and was in love with a badass biker.

Perched on the top of the fence, she hesitated, unsure if she should jump or attempt to climb down to the ground on the other side. Her muscles in her arms trembled from the exertion, and she feared they wouldn't hold her if she swung her legs to the other side.

A shout from the crowd spotting her made her decision for her. She heaved herself over, more afraid of her dad's followers than breaking her bones. She landed clumsily, falling to her knees, and ignored the splintering pain shooting up the front of her legs below her knees.

She ran to the control box on the driveway, flipped the cover, and hit the button. The gate slid soundlessly open.

Raul, Duck, Big Joe raced forward, engines roaring. The crowd surged onward to slip inside the yard, but jumped back at the sound of the bikes, stealing their path. She hit the close button before the motorcycles gained clearance, and neatly shut off the entrance to her father's followers.

She ran over and jumped on the back of Raul's motorcycle, letting him take her the rest of the way to the house. Pumped on adrenaline and her body pulsating from the excursion, she had no time to worry about what her parents would say over her unconventional arrival. She was alive and as everyone would soon find out, it was possible to be born again.

They rode up to the front step, parking in the grass. Whether Raul knew it or not, he'd already pissed her dad off by ruining his lawn. The thought almost made her smile.

She climbed off the bike, quickly followed by Raul. He straightened, hand going to his back where he kept his pistol. He nodded at Duck and Big Joe to wait as planned. Raul slipped his fingers into her hand and walked with her to the door.

"Ready,
mi vida
?" He faced her. "Remember everything we went over. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you again, and you'll have to—"

"Yeah. I know." She inhaled deeply, her chest compressing in on her making it difficult to exhale. "Five minutes. I announce I'm alive and well. Then you get me out of here, and I never come back. Promise?"

He kissed her. "It'll be alright."

"Promise me." She looked at him. "Promise you won't—"

The door opened. She instantly stepped closer to Raul and jerked her gaze to the house. She would've recognized the older immaculate dressed man in the charcoal suit, black tie, and white silk shirt in front of her anywhere. Her father hadn't changed a bit.

Black and gray peppered hair, smoothly styled to the side, hairsprayed to keep every strand in place. He hadn't changed in sixteen years. Her dad's face almost unlined, except for the telltale sign of irritation in the lines on his forehead. Facelifts and tucks cemented his looks from a decade ago. She stared into his blue eyes and what she saw was not the familiar look of displeasure but fear.

Ten years or so ago, she'd stopped turning on his show to catch sight of him and her mom. She stopped caring how they were doing. She stopped wishing things were different. She stopped hoping they'd change their mind about her banishment and plead for her to come back.

"Chrissy?" Her dad stepped outside and closed the door behind him. "You're not supposed to come back here."

His words bounced off her. She'd heard them before, but she was no longer a young girl with no options. She had Raul, the club, a new home.

"My purpose of coming isn't to interrupt your life. Once the world knows I'm alive, I'll leave you and mom alone." She linked her hand with Raul's.

Her dad gazed between her and Raul. A mask of indifference came over his face, making him seem even more unemotional. "You can't upset your mother anymore. She passed away three years ago, knowing you were her biggest disappointment."

"W-what?" She rocked back a step, and Raul's arm went around her back. "How?"

Not once during her absence had she thought one of her parents would die. A new pain settled over her. There was a time when she was young, five or six years old, that she remembered her mom spending time with her before several nannies from her father's congregation took over her care.

She and her mother did activities together the way most mothers and daughters do. When she'd reached her teens, her mother no longer understood or championed her desires to have more fashionable clothes like her friends had, or to attend concerts with her peers. She had thought of her mother as her only ally, despite her mother always siding with her dad in the end.

"She suffered a heart attack one morning while she was alone in the house." Her dad gazed behind her. "If you must talk, let's do it inside. You're creating a scene again."

A horn honked out on the street. She turned and watched Duck run over to the master control and open the gate, letting in the caravan of news vans. She turned around and faced her father with more determination. He'd alienated her from her mom, and she'd never see her again, never find out if her mother still cared about her.

"What I have to say is for the public, not you. This isn't my home any longer," she said.

"Chrissy, come inside and tell me about your life. We'll talk. You can get to know me again, and together we can alert everyone to the horrible mistake that was made and that you've repented from your sinful ways." Her dad moved closer. "There are things you don't understand, and reasons why sending you away was for the best. As your father, I beg you to think about what you're doing. You'll ruin me."

Raul moved in front of her, blocking her view of her dad. "
Mi vida
, go inside and talk. I'll send the news crews inside. Take your time and have your say, and I'll be right here for you when you're through."

"You're not coming inside?" she asked, panic grabbing hold of her.

He locked his gaze with hers. "You're safe. Nothing, and I mean nothing, can happen with witnesses."

She shook her head. "No, you promised to stay with me."

"Trust—"

She stepped back. Anger and disappointment consumed her, and she couldn't believe he wouldn't stay with her.

Raul turned away from her, whistled, and motioned for Big Joe. She stared at the two of them in shock. They were supposed to be her family, and they were leaving her out of the decisions. Raul set the plan in motion and promised to stick beside her.

Big Joe nodded and joined her on the front step. She stared at Raul's back, willing him to come with her. Instead, she watched him climb on his motorcycle. Big Joe slipped his hand under her arm and pulled her toward the house. She turned away from Raul when Big Joe guided her through the double doors along with the news crew, camera operators, and somewhere in the mixture, her father. Numb to the activity going on around her, she sat in the upholstered chair in the formal living room.