CRAVE - BAD BOY ROMANCE (11 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The
rumble of a motorcycle engine starting up shook me from my daydreams. Cade had
obviously put his motorcycle back together, and from the full, throaty sound of
it whatever he'd been trying to repair or replace had gone well. I sat back and
closed my eyes, listening to the machine purr like some big cat, and I couldn't
help but imagine him perched atop. Muscled thighs tensed. Tanned forearms at
the ready. Piercing eyes prepared for the ride ahead.

I opened my eyes again and looked down
at my watch. I'd been waiting here for Jessica for almost half an hour, and
there was a sick feeling in my gut. Instinct was telling me that something was
wrong. If I didn't do something about it, things might go on getting worse
forever.

I leapt up and dashed outside, using
the front door instead of the back. If you Cade about to ride off, I would miss
him if I went through the kitchen and down the path in the backyard, whereas if
I ran around the corner in the front of the house I’d have a chance of catching
him before he sped away.

Shoeless, I realized with a start when
front door banged shut behind me that I didn't even have the foresight to have
brought my keys along. Hopefully it wouldn't be locked when I tried to get back
inside. My feet pounded down the sidewalk and I winced as I came into contact
with a few sharp stones along the way.

I could still hear the motorcycle
engine coming from his garage, so I knew he hadn't left yet. “Cade!” I called. “Wait!”

I didn't know if he could hear me,
but a few painful strides later the motor thankfully cut off. I slowed down to
a limp as I rounded the corner and entered his garage once again.

He was just as I’d imagined him,
sitting astride the bike like some rough God made into flesh and bone. He
cocked an eyebrow at me as I hobbled in and asked, “Out for a jog? Or chasing
the nefarious shoe thief?”

I glared at him. What was it about
this man that made me so desperate for him when he wasn't around, only for his
presence to irritate me so quickly? “No,” I said forcefully. “I needed your
help, but I thought you were going. I was trying to catch you before you did.”

Cade shook his head. “Don't worry
about that, I'm not going anywhere. And if I was, I’d let you know before I
did.”

That was probably true. I knew he
still felt responsible for my grandmother's death. He may be many things, most
of which I had yet no inkling of, but he was certainly loyal. “Well, will you
ride with me back to the dress shop?”

“Sure, but…” I watched as it dawned
on him. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “She hasn't shown up?”

“Not yet. Maybe I'm just jumping to
conclusions but-”

“No,” he said, cutting me off. “She
was far too happy about getting a chance to see you to be late for it. If
Jessica isn't here yet there's a reason, and I doubt it's a happy one. Go back
in the house and grab some shoes. I'll pull around to the front to wait for
you.”

“Okay,” I said, turning around and
limping back into the house. The door hadn't locked behind me, and I slipped my
shoes on and grab my keys before securing the house and hurrying out to climb
onto Cade’s Harley.

“Ready to roll?”

I wrapped my arms around the warmth
of his bulk as if I'd been doing it my entire life. I even closed my eyes as he
opened up the throttle and laid my head against the soft leather covering his
broad back.

The world roared by and I smiled to
myself and held him close. Once he pulled up to the curb beside the dress shop a
few minutes later I reluctantly opened my eyes and leaned back, only to get my
first good look at the back of his leather jacket.

The same jacket I put on last night
to cover my shame.

There was red writing, just like my
picture.
Gravedigger
, it said in an
arc at the top, spanning one broad shoulder to the other. And beneath it, under
a large skull made up of fat spiders and a grin whose teeth consisted of broken
coffins, more blood red words.
Union
.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Rachel?”
Cade asked.

“Huh?”

We were still sitting on the back of
the motorcycle. He was twisted around in the seat to look at me. “Is something
wrong?”

I opened my mouth to answer and then
clamped it shut again. What was I supposed to say? My cheek burned, as if damaged
by the leather logo I'd laid it against. Gravedigger Union. I'd heard the name
last night. It was Jessica herself that had used it, telling me that Thrace and
his henchman were the worst form of thugs she could imagine.

She’d said that Cade had been one of
them, and I guess here was all the proof I needed.

Startled, I hopped off of the back of
the bike so fast I almost tripped on the curb. “Yeah,” I said, hearing my own
voice waiver with uncertainty. The world felt like it was spinning, and I
didn't know which end was up. Could I trust him?

Cade didn't seem to notice my panic.
He flicked the kick stand down with his booted heel as he parked the motorcycle
and pocketed the keys.

The dress shop was right in front of
me, and I hurried to it, as eager to get inside and see what had been keeping
Jessica as I was to create distance between myself and Cade. “Wait here,” I
told him over my shoulder. “I'll only be a minute.”

The sign in the window said
Open
, which was why I nearly broke my
nose walking into the door when I tried to push it open in a hurry and found it
locked. With a sinking feeling, I shaded my eyes from the sun and tried to peer
inside. I could make out the racks of clothes, but I didn't see any movement
within.

Cade came up beside me and tried the
door as well, growling in frustration when it wouldn't open for him either. “We
need that little rat bastard Jonathon,” he said, crouching down to peer at the
lock. “It's one of those new ones. If I tried to force it, there's as much
chance that I'd break it as be able to break in. I'd be better off just kicking
in the glass.”

“Are you nuts? We're not going to
make it look like we're robbing the place? It's broad daylight! Let's just call
the cops and get them down here.”

He sighed, glancing up at me. “Don't
put your faith in the police, Rachel. Maybe you can get away with trusting them
in Detroit, but not here. If something's wrong, they won't be any help. You'll
just end up letting them know that you know there's something wrong.”

“So what do you suggest?” I asked.

“I already told you. We need
Jonathon.”

“No way. We won't be dragging that
poor guy into this.”

Cade stood back up and gave the door
a hard, exploratory shove. He must have been incredibly strong, because I heard
the metal strain and saw the glass flex as he momentarily bent the frame out of
shape. “That 'poor guy' is involved in half of the burglaries in town. He just
happens to swipe stuff from the right people and not leave his prints behind in
the process.”

“If you say so. But I'm still not
going to get him involved. It just isn't right.”

“Suit yourself.”

We stood there in silence for a
couple of heartbeats until he said, “So, what are we still doing here if you
won't let me bust in the front door, huh?”

I grinned at him. I decided it was
time to find out if he was worthy of the reputation he and his Gravedigger
Union brothers had earned. “So let's go around the back and knock that door
down instead...”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Instead
of taking the noisy Harley around the corner into the back of the shop, Cade
and I decided to walk. The surrounding area was busy with people on lunch
breaks, but once we got to the alley the noise from the street died down.

The only people who were supposed to
access these back doors were shop owners and the guys who drove the trucks that
made deliveries. Everything back here was brick and iron. It was shady at
least, and I felt the aggressive heat fall away as we entered the darkness that
lurked against the wall.

“This is the one,” Cade said,
pointing at the last of the iron doors.

“But it's made of metal,” I said. I
don’t know what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. “How are we supposed to
break in?”

Cade strode to the door and tried to
handle. It was locked. He tugged on it a little harder, but the door wouldn't
budge. These were reinforced security doors, and whoever had installed them
meant business.

Just when I was beginning to wonder
if this was all for nothing, Cade turned and gave me a wink that said
everything was under control. He slid a heavy crowbar out from inside his
jacket and twirled it in his thick fingers as if it weighed nothing at all. “Always
come prepared,” he said.

“Do you just carry that thing around
with you everywhere you go?”

He shook his head. “Not everywhere. I
grabbed it from the bike while we were getting off. Thought it might come in
handy, and it turns out I was right.”

I shrugged, unwilling to admit that
he had the measure of the door just yet. Crowbar or no crowbar, I was sure this
was going to take some work to get the door open. Noisy work. Expensive work.
The kind of work that sets off alarms and alerts the police.

Cade must've seen me scanning for
electrical wires to security boxes, the same way thieves did in TV shows,
because he said, “Maybe back in Detroit, Rachel, but not here. We’re too small
time for that sort of thing. Around here your best security is a strong door on
the outside and a good steady gun on the inside.”

“If you say so. Let’s just hope there
isn’t a gun waiting for us in there…”

He made a face, though I wasn’t sure
if I was saying something he hadn’t thought of. Cade inserted the crowbar
between the frame and the metal door, and I took a few steps away,
subconsciously distancing myself from the act of committing a crime that was
about to occur in front of me. I was a good girl, always had been. Never so
much as jaywalked. The only encounters I've ever really had with police were as
the victim.

Somehow, I doubted that Cade could
say the same. I flinched as he put his weight behind the crowbar and wrenched
at the door. It squealed and groaned loudly for a moment before popping free
with the shriek of stressed hinges. I flinched, glancing around. Surely someone
would've heard that and come running. Surely someone somewhere would be raising
the alarm right now, reporting a break in…

But none of that bad stuff happened. Cade
shoved the door open all the way and peered inside and I tried to see into the
darkness beyond him, stepping forward and straining my eyes past his muscled
frame.

No good. It was too dark inside. I
opened my mouth to say something, Cade silenced me by thrusting the crowbar
into my hands and putting a finger to his lips. Once I'd taken the implement,
there was a gun in his hand as if by magic.

He stalked inside the shop, and I
wasn't sure if I should follow him or wait outside. Which was safer? I didn't
know what lie in wait for us inside. Probably nothing.

Hopefully nothing…

With any luck we’d burst in and scare
the crap out of Jessica as she was restocking the shelves in the back, or on a
long and painful phone call that had made her lose track of time. She'd smile
and wave us in, motioning for us to sit down until she finished and bouncing
the heel of her hand off of her for head in a mock
I'm so stupid, please forgive me
way that would make both Cade and
I chuckle to ourselves.

Afterwards, she joked about being
blonde and forgetful, and we'd tell her it was okay.

Everything was okay.

But it wasn't. I think I knew that
right away. Instead of staying outside in the alley, holding a crowbar I
wouldn't have been able to either use to defend myself against a bad guy or explain
away to a good guy, I followed Cade inside.

I smelled it right away. The danger.
The difference between now and when I was in here yesterday and the air was
laced with potpourri and chilled by the purr of an air conditioner was night
and day. Before, it had been a pleasant sanctuary away from the heat, but this
afternoon it was barely cooler in here than it was outside.

And the smell… The burnt firecracker
odor that I presumed to be gunpowder. Beneath it, coloring the air, was the
copper stink of spilled blood left to sit.

“Shit,” I whispered, causing Cade to
reach back with his hand and bump my arm. I don't know if he was trying to keep
me quiet or reassure me, but it didn't do a good job of either.

I let him take the lead, and he padded
through the racks of clothes, those piercing eyes shining in the light that
leaked in from the street. Out front, unaware of what was happening in here,
sunlight streamed through the glass windows and the back and forth of people on
the sidewalk made shadows crisscross endlessly inside.

Cade had done this before. It was
clear. Whether his background was criminal or military or something else, I
couldn't help but marvel at the strength and efficiency evident in his form as
he cleared the store on the way to the cash register. His gun covered every
angle until he decided it was safe, and his body was between me and danger at
every turn.

It didn't take me long to trust him
completely in a situation like this, so much so that when he lowered his gun I
instinctively set my crowbar on the counter beside the cash register. If he had
judged it was safe, who was I to second guess him? The man clearly knew what he
was doing.

In fact, I was starting to worry that
if something happened in here, I’d just end up being in the way. I looked over
my shoulder at the open back door and wondered how long it would be before
someone from one of the other shops realized something was wrong.

Should I go back and try and close
it? No, that would be stupid. If the door was going to get closed it should've
already been done, and crossing the entirety of the shop to do it now would be
foolish. If there was someone in here that Cade had missed I'd be done for, and
if there wasn't I would probably be wasting my time.

Instead of backtracking, something
made me peer into the shadows behind the cash register.

At first I didn't see anything other
than what I expected to find. A small, neat stack of bags for placing garments
in. A trash can. The darkness was thick, and the angle of the counter protected
it from the light spilling in from the street through the big window panes in
front. Maybe that was why it took me so long to see her.

“Cade…”

He heard it in my voice, same as I
did. She was there. And she was gone.

“Don't touch anything,” he said. “Not
one fucking thing.”

I nodded, looking around wondering quickly,
trying to remember if I'd already broken the rule he’d just set. I didn't think
so. I'd been careful, and I hadn't put my hand against the door that we come
through or any of the racks that we’d passed.

I took a step away from the counter
just to be sure that I didn't accidentally put my hand on it and went around so
that I could better see behind the cash register.

Cade came around too, taking a step
or two past me and crouching down to investigate the scene before us both.

“Gunshots,” he said. “At least three
of them, though it's too dark to be sure.”

“Is she…?”

“Yeah. For at least a couple of
hours.”

“So what do we do?”

Cade stood up and whirled on me,
grabbing me roughly by the shoulders and spinning me around as well. “We get
the fuck out of here,” he hissed as he marched me to the back door. “And we do
it as quietly as we can. Eventually this place is going to be crawling with
cops, and the last thing either one of us needs is for some nosy bystander
saying they remember you and I back here poking around. We won’t be doing
anyone any good if we get stuck in jail over this.”

I resisted. “But shouldn't we call
someone?”

“Sure,” he said. “Once we're clear of
here you can call the Queen of England for all I care. But not until then.”

We were at the back door now, and no
sooner had he shoved me out into the sunlight that I heard the distance scream
of sirens.

“Shit,” we both said at the same
time. They were already on their way. Either someone had seen us go in, or
noticed the back door standing open. Whatever the reason, the sirens were already
getting close.

“Don't panic,” he said in a voice
that cut through whatever fear I had begun to let build up inside me. “Do as I say,
and will get through this.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Go around to the front and wait
beside the bike. If you see anything out of the ordinary, I want you to take a
left and walk down the street, nice and calm. There's a bar at the end of it
called Finnegan’s. Go in there and have a drink until someone gets you. If
anyone asks you any questions you didn't see or hear anything. Got it?”

“A drink?” This was hardly the time
for me to be building up an alibi, was it? Whoever had done this had done it
hours ago, surely. What good would it do for me to evade the cops in a bar I'd
entered long after the crime must've been committed?

Cade shook his head. “Focus, Rachel.
That's Plan B. Plan A is for you to go and wait beside my motorcycle and I'll
be right there. Now go.”

I nodded and did as he asked,
hurrying around the corner without trying to appear as if I was hurrying around
the corner. The flow of street traffic in front was the same as it had been a
few minutes go, and I blended in easily.

Even so, I couldn’t help but glance
up and down the street. The sirens were still on their way, much closer now,
but I didn't see anyone who looked like they were paying particular attention
to the dress shop. No shady characters reading newspapers with darting eyes,
and no one sitting in a parked vehicle with the strap of binoculars around their
neck. I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking for, and I sure wasn't seeing
it.

I tried not to pace.

Thirty seconds later Cade strode past
me and climbed onto the Harley-Davidson, motioning for me to do the same. The instant
my butt hit the seat he switched the engine on, and I leaned forward quickly
and held on to him as tightly as I could as he pulled into a break in the
traffic and we exited the scene of someone else's crime.