Doc (5 page)

Caleb stepped into the relative dark of Maria’s bar. The crowd was the usual mix of bikers, cowboys, ex-servicemen, and roughnecks. He spotted his friends at a table across the room. Daisy was serving tonight and Easy was keeping a watchful eye on her, much like Shooter used to do with Slick. Daisy was swamped so Caleb headed straight for the bar to get a cold one from the source. The regular, Milo, shot him a grin.

“What’s shaking?” the
old-timer asked him.

“Not much,” Caleb replied. He didn’t bother to place an order. Maria knew what he wanted.

The woman sitting on the next stool over turned to look at him. She had long, dark hair, dark eyes, and ruby-red lips. Caleb wasn’t interested, but he was appreciative—especially since she had on a black cotton blouse and she’d obviously miscounted the number of buttons it had. He could see straight down into her ample cleavage. His cock stirred, but he ignored it, having just scratched that itch the previous evening.

She grinned at him, but he merely nodded and directed his attention to Maria as she set a bottle down in front of him. “Thanks, Maria,” he intoned as he swept the beer off the counter. “Send Daisy over with another one when she gets a chance.”

“Will do.”

Caleb left the bar and headed for the table. Tex and Vegas were playing a game of nine-ball. Easy was alone with his back up against the wall.

“Rough crowd tonight?” he asked, easing into a chair.

“Little rowdy,” Easy grumbled. “And a couple of handsy drunks.”

The younger man nodded to indicate a hefty, blond man in a flannel shirt, more flab than muscle. He was grinning from ear to ear and leaning in toward Daisy—a little too close to Daisy—as she gathered his empty glasses. Easy started to rise from his chair. Caleb put his hand out.

“I got it,” he said, pushing back his own chair. “No one needs to go to the hospital.”

Easy was fiercely protective of Daisy, as were all the Burnout men. Caleb could admire it, but couldn’t risk it himself. He kept everything channeled into his patrols. Acting as unofficial bouncer at Maria’s was no different. It took every bit of Army discipline he had to keep himself under control. If he ever cared for a woman the way his brothers cared for theirs… well, he preferred not to think about the damage it would cause. Caleb had grown up knowing something inside him was on a hair trigger. It was best to aim it at people who deserved to feel the brunt of it. He sidled up to the blond lumberjack who was arguing with Daisy about another round.

“You’ve had enough,” Caleb told him.

The large man’s head swiveled in his direction. “I’m a paying customer,” he insisted. “And I want to pay for another drink.”

The man’s eyes were focused, his speech loose but not slurred. He wasn’t quite drunk off his ass, but he’d bought the ticket and was on his way there. Another drink and he might become a real problem rather than just a nuisance.

“Forget it,” Caleb said and gestured for Daisy to walk away. She gave him a thank-you smile and headed back to the bar. “You’re done for the night,” Caleb informed the man and waited, watching him closely to see if he’d get his back up about it.

He grumbled and glared, but didn’t argue. Caleb nodded to himself and returned to his table where Daisy had left him a second beer.

“Thanks,” Easy said.

“Any time,” Caleb replied.

The crowd remained thick. The place was slammed even for a Saturday night. Caleb kept one eye on the bikers, the other on the cowboys, and his ears tuned for any tones that sounded less jovial and more adversarial. There was a game of darts that might get ugly and a round of pool that was getting intense. Caleb kept his focus on the darts. Let Tex handle losing to his girlfriend—again—in any way he saw fit. When they’d first met, Caleb had seriously considered beating the shit out of the man after learning his ideas about women and sex. Tex liked them submissive and made no secret of it. Caleb had too much experience with assholes who needed to prove themselves to accept the man’s word that he’d never hurt a female. It had required Shooter’s intervention to thaw the ice between the two men. As disinterested as Caleb was about Tex’s private life, he no longer disapproved. Abby looked as happy as any woman Caleb had known, and he was content that his brother was a good man for all his proclivities.

Caleb scanned the dance floor again and saw nothing and no one of interest. His sweeping gaze halted at the bar, though. Apparently the lumberjack had tried to circumvent Daisy and get another round from Maria herself, who had tended bar enough years to know that he was quickly approaching his limit. Caleb saw the sharp shake of her head and took in the lumberjack’s disappointed expression. He tried again, to no avail, then washed his hands of it all, instead turning his head to focus on the pretty little brunette
who was seated next to Milo.

The lumberjack leaned in again, as he was wont to do
, apparently, when something sparked his interest. He clearly ignored the way the brunette leaned away from him and shifted uncomfortably on her stool. He put a familiar hand on her shoulder; she shrugged out from under his touch. It was obvious she wasn’t the least bit interested. The lumberjack had twice been denied beer, though, and it seemed broads were next on his to-do list.

The brunette rebuked him a third time, then got up off her stool to leave. She paid Maria, said something to Milo, and turned to head toward the front door. She didn’t look back to see that the lumberjack had waited a moment but was now trailing after her. She pushed open the door and disappeared outside. Caleb got up from his chair.

The dance floor was crowded, though, and he had trouble making his own way to the door. He had to take a few detours, which cost him some time. He finally reached the other side of the bar and shoved open the door. A quick glance to his right and he spotted the lumberjack, hard on the heels of the smaller, young woman. The lumberjack reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. Caleb quickened his pace.

The brunette pushed his hand off her, but the man grabbed her by the back of the neck.

“
Hey, I’m fucking talking to you
!” he snarled.

Caleb’s boots pounded the gravel as he broke into a run. Before he could get there, the brunette half-turned and threw up an elbow. It smashed up into the lumberjack’s face. Blood sprayed. She raised her foot and swept his leg as he stumbled back from the blow. He lost his balance and crashed to the ground, smacking his head against the fender of a truck on the way down.

By then Caleb had closed the distance between them. He reached for her arm without thinking. The same elbow came out again, but having caught this show before, he blocked it with the palm of his right hand. He snaked his left arm around her torso.

“Hang on,” he ordered.

She lifted her boot again, this time slamming it down into his shin, just above his own boot where it could actually do some damage.

“Sonofabitch!” he snapped.

He put both arms around her and twisted their bodies so he had her pressed up against the truck. He felt her slender fingers glide along his hand and knew he was about to get his fingers broken.

“Hey, now,” he protested, pulling her tighter into him. Her back was pressed against his chest. “Hang on,” he repeated. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

She paused with her fingers resting over his. “Milo’s friend,” she replied, recognizing his voice.

“Yeah,” he said, letting go of her with one hand and reaching around behind himself. She stiffened again and started going for his hand when he drew out his wallet and flipped it open. The gold shield flashed in the yellow fluorescent light.

She stilled and Caleb felt reasonably certain he had the little hellcat under control. She had moxy though, and moves he hadn’t seen in quite a while, which made him intrigued and suspicious. “You got ID?” he asked.

She surprised him by laughing. “Why yes, Officer,” she teased. “Why don’t you frisk me for it?”

Caleb smirked, set his own wallet on the hood of the truck, and ran his hand along her hip. She wiggled a little. He found her wallet and slid it out of her back pocket. With one hand he flipped it open. “Isabelle Boucher.”

“My friends call me Izzy,” she replied.

Caleb moved his mouth to her ear. “We’re not friends,” he told her.

“Really?” she asked, and wiggled again. It was then Caleb became aware of a number of things. One, he was cupping her breast with his left hand. Two, he had a raging
hard-on and it was pressed snugly into her Levi’s. “That’s not what the rocket in your pocket says,” she teased.

“Damn it,” he whispered and let go of her. He swiped his wallet off the hood and stepped away. He tossed hers back at her. Damn she was hot. Another button had popped during their struggle and a hint of black lace flashed at him. She was a damn good fighter, too. He looked away and chalked his erection up to adrenaline. “Are you alright?” he asked her.

She smirked at him. “You didn’t leave a scratch,” she said sarcastically.

Caleb rolled his eyes. “I meant him.”

The lumberjack was lying sprawled on the ground, moaning.

Isabelle shrugged.

Caleb slid his cell phone out of his pocket and began dialing.

“Who are you calling?” she asked. Caleb noted with some disappointment that she was fixing the buttons on her shirt.

“A ride for him,” he replied, nodding at the lumberjack.

She sighed. “Make it yellow instead of black and white. I’m late for a very important date.”

Caleb turned away from her to keep his eyes on the man who’d attacked her. “This is Officer Barnes,” he told the dispatcher. “Badge number 02765. I’ve got a drunk and disorderly at Maria’s bar. Assaulted a female.” He waited for confirmation that the closest cruiser was on its way, then he disconnected the call with a swipe of this thumb. “I don’t care what you’ve got going on,” he said. “You’re making a state—”

He turned and realized he was talking into thin air.

“What just happened?” whined the lumberjack, covering his face with one hand.

Caleb looked around the darkened lot but saw no signs of Isabelle Boucher. “I have no idea,” he replied darkly.

Izzy would have loved to have stayed at the bar to play cops and robbers with yummy Officer Barnes, but she had more important things to do. Disappointing, to be sure, because he was six feet of ripped muscles and cool confidence. He was packing a nice-sized surprise below the waist, as well. But she’d left him to deal with Paul Bunyan alone. She couldn’t afford to lose her only lead on the skip.

The asshole at the bar had assumed that she had left simply to get away from him and on any other night that might have been true. But actually the gang of local one percenters had apparently decided to take their party elsewhere, and since neither Jeter nor Jason Paul had been among them, Izzy decided she needed somewhere else to look.

So she was a block and a half behind a large group of Buzzards who thankfully hadn’t noticed that they were being tailed. She’d been a bit worried that she might have lost them after the drunk and the hero had slowed her down. But a dozen leather-clad bikers on loud-ass Harleys were actually fairly easy to find, even in Rapid City, which seemed to have a higher concentration of riders.

She followed them to the edge of an industrial area that was not far from the bar. She hung back because of the lack of other vehicles in the area and watched them pull into the lot of a low-slung building that almost resembled a warehouse. Shortly after they entered, music boomed loudly from inside. Izzy drove past as
slowly as she dared, trying to get a good look. Through the windows, she saw a small crowd of people drinking and carousing. She hoped she would blend in with the mass of partiers.

She circled behind the building and parked halfway down the block, in the shadows. She hustled toward the clubhouse, skirting around the streetlights as best she could. There were a few small windows in the back and she crept up to the first one and peeked in. It appeared to be a bathroom at the back corner of the building. She placed both hands on the window pane and lifted, but it wouldn’t budge. Hoping the next one wasn’t also locked from the inside, she moved forward and peered in the second window. It was situated at the end of a hallway. No one was within sight.

Praying silently, she tried to open it and breathed a small sigh of relief when she succeeded. The window quietly slid up and she threw her leg over the sill and ducked inside. The music was so loud inside that she was confident no one had heard her entering. If she could get in and out quickly and avoid actually running into anyone, she could exit the same way.

She tried the door to the first room on her left, the one connected to the bathroom she’d been unable to enter. It was locked, though. She slipped her switchblade out of her jacket pocket and flicked it open. Prying open the flimsy door lock, she swung it open cautiously. The room was empty. She paused
, though, as she looked at the rumpled, unmade bed. Above it hung a huge black flag, a larger version of the patch on the cuts of the club’s members. If Izzy had any doubt where she was, the word “President” looming over the Buzzard’s logo made it pretty clear.

She backed out of the room and headed to the next one. This one was unlocked and she edged it open quietly, just to make sure no one was inside. It was empty as well, which made sense because the night was still young and the party had
seemingly just started. There was nothing of interest, though, aside from empty bottles, cans, and scattered dirty laundry on the floor.

Izzy tried two more small
rooms until she hit the jackpot. Jason Paul’s room was the third room on the right. She knew because he had a copy of the same photograph that had graced his cousin Jeter’s mirror back in Denver. The bed was unmade, but that was no surprise given where she was. Izzy was reasonably certain the Buzzards had no weekly maid service.

It was impossible to tell when Jason had been here last, though the closet was mostly empty. There were no discarded receipts of any kind, no scribbled notes scattered about. She was as thorough as she dared to be, knowing she was risking a lot just being here. But more than the reward, a girl’s life was at stake, and Izzy could probably shoot her way out of here if things got bad. Probably.

She left the room and edged toward the end of the hall. It took a sharp right turn and she could tell by the increase in the volume of music, laughter, and shouting that the connecting hallway led straight into the clubhouse’s main room. She took a quick peek around the corner and confirmed that, yes, the next hallway did lead right to the heart of the party. It looked like the back of the room, though. Most of the people were to her left and therefore out of her direct line of sight.

Taking a deep breath, Izzy moved forward, against the wall, toward the main room. Her heart was pounding but the music was louder and no one could hear her boots on the chipped tile floor. She slid along the wall, careful as she could be until she got to the end.

There were a dozen more people than the ones who’d traveled from the bar. Only a small number of them were women. One woman in particular seemed to be the main event. She was standing on a table in the center of the room, stripping off her clothes for the crowd. Izzy only spared them a moment before she pivoted and hustled back the way she’d come.

She turned the corner to the other hallway, but her heart leapt to her throat when the sound of heavy boots followed her. Fighting panic, Izzy glanced at the empty rooms that lay between her and the open window she’d climbed
in through. But none of those rooms had windows and she couldn’t risk getting trapped. She moved faster now, but could not run because the sound of her own boots would surely raise suspicion.

She realized too late that there was no time to climb back through the window. It was too small to dive through and if she tried to hike her leg over the sill, she’d be caught by
whoever was coming down the hall before she could get all the way out. She plunged through the last door on her right, the one she’d unlocked, and quickly closed it behind her.

Moving faster now, she hustled to the bathroom door and to the window that lay beyond. She grabbed the sill with both hands and tugged. When it didn’t open, she cursed herself and remembered why she hadn’t been able to come in that way to begin with. She hurriedly flipped the lock and tried again, but it still wouldn’t rise. She inspected the makeshift exit and realized, to her horror, that not only
had it been locked, but it had also been painted shut.

Close to melting down now, Izzy cast her gaze about wildly while she tried to think what to do. She opted for waiting until the person went into whatever room they were headed toward then
she would slip back out to the hallway and escape there. As she left the bathroom and went back into the bedroom, she froze when she realized that though she couldn’t hear a set of keys being jangled, the doorknob itself was indeed turning. Her breath caught in her throat as the door started to open.