Love Ties (10 page)

“Yeah, but she might have moved there. There’s also a previous employer listed.” He thrust the paper at Ace and strode back to his bike. Over his shoulder, he said, “Look into it.”

What he meant was: Find what we need to make Strother happy because he was damn well keeping Ever, no matter what his club said.

As Ever passed the familiar landmark, her heart accelerated by ten beats. Her breath came faster, and adrenaline hit her system.

She was in Dark Raiders territory. Anyone could spot her hair and recognize her. Sure, she could disguise herself, but she might eventually need her looks to infiltrate the club walls. Maybe she still had a friend there. Namely, the one who helped her fake her death.

She slowed the car and stared at the gates of the compound ahead. All these clubs were the same. They set up illegal business dealings and had high security as a result. The Hell’s Sons were dealing in bad shit too, but as far as she could tell, they hid it better.

Ever’s mind was still in bed with Jamison. She hadn’t wanted to leave, and that couldn’t happen. Fucking him was one thing—the sex was mind-blowing. But staying the night?

She pulled up to the curb a block from the Raiders club and used everything she knew about observation. Pretending she was looking something up on her cell, she employed her peripheral vision.

Two guys at the gate, leaning back in folding chairs, passing something between them. Probably a doobie.

Very few updates had been made since she’d left. The building was still a nondescript gray, the gate high with curls of barbed wire. They used their shipping company as a cover, and the trucks and vans came in handy for transporting guns and drugs.

And sometimes girls.

She didn’t give a damn about any of that. She wasn’t here to bust anyone—she just wanted that file on her mom.

And if there wasn’t a file, she was going to find the man who knew about her mother’s death and wring it out of him.

Automatically her hand went to her handbag, where a nice little piece of steel was stashed. Fully loaded. She wasn’t stupid enough to come to this section of town without protection.

When an engine started nearby, she jerked her head up. Her heart raced as she half expected Jamison to pull up behind her.

No one came.

She scoured the few windows of the compound. Bars covered them all, but that didn’t matter. When she went back into the club, it would be through the front doors. Long ago she’d realized the best way to uncover what she wanted was to use her girl-nads and walk in as if she’d never left.

As if she belonged there.

Inside she cringed at the thought. She didn’t want Stone or anything else in her old world. Hell, she didn’t want the Hell’s Sons, either—only one man.

If she’d met Jamison at a different bar, he wasn’t wearing a cut, and she’d discovered he was a common laborer, things would be much different. She might give in to her desire for more than sex. She liked the way he watched her.

He’d also shown her a lot of consideration. Too bad the things he’d done—the helmet and tattoo—were a MC’s show of affection. Still, would she want flowers or chocolates? Would a charm bracelet show her how serious Jamison was better than the ink he’d deposited in his skin for her?

A shiver ran down her spine, and she put her hand over her bag, feeling the outline of her gun. Growing up in the Life had given her a sixth sense, and right now she thought someone was watching her.

She held up her phone and moved her lips as if on a call. Meanwhile, she stared at her surroundings.

When she spotted the car near the long line of fencing, she dropped her head and looked out of the corner of her eye.

A simple silver car, nothing flashy. It might belong to a housewife or a retail employee. But the man behind the wheel was staring at her, and he was wearing a cut.

Her throat closed off, and she eased her weapon from her bag. She’d know a Dark Raider anywhere, especially this one.

She opened her door and stepped out onto the cracked cement. Then she slid her weapon into her waistband and let her flowy top fall over it. With the hip action of a call girl, she approached the silver car.

Barbosa was a beautiful man, straight from Colombia. His dark hair waved perfectly against his brown face, and his eyes…most girls dropped to their knees to have those approving eyes on them.

Ever had never toyed with him, but he’d asked her more than once.

Shock froze his features, and then in a flurry, he leaped out of the car.

The gun he trained on her didn’t stop her from walking right up to him and throwing her arms around him.

“Ever,” he gasped.

She squeezed, smelling familiar smoke and leather—crack to a club kid. She felt immediately at home in his embrace.

“I’m seeing a ghost.” He didn’t let her go, hugging tight.

She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his cut. Moments flashed in her memory—Stone and Barbosa sharing a beer and a laugh. “Tell me who the officers are,” she said quietly.

He tried to push her back enough to look at her, but she clung to him, hiding her face. “Ever, is it really you?”

She nodded again, feeling her hair catch on his patches. “I need to know who the officers are.”

He wrapped his fingers around her upper arms and pushed away. She tipped her forehead against his chest, trying to stay in the moment and remember what she needed to do. It was alluring as hell, though, the idea of going beyond those gates with Barbosa and letting herself be immersed in her former life. The Raiders were family.

She couldn’t look into his eyes.

“What the hell is going on?” His voice cracked. “You’re alive, chica?”

“I need that information before I answer.” He was superstitious enough to believe her if she told him he was seeing a ghost. He’d go inside and say a rosary and then drink tequila until he forgot about her.

“Uh…I’m the sergeant at arms.” He slid a finger over his patch, but she kept her forehead pressed to his warm body. “Seagraves is prez, Blacky is treasurer. Manuel is the acting VP until Stone gets out.”

Her bowels turned to water. This was a deadly game she was playing. Once Stone learned she wasn’t dead—and he would—she was as good as hunted. He wouldn’t stop searching until she was in his clutches again. Even in prison, his reach was far.

He’d only divorced her because of the number of years he was going inside. If she hadn’t “died,” he’d demand she become his old lady again.

She drew a calming breath. “When is Stone out?”

“Man, I don’t know. He’s been up for parole many times, but the state won’t let him out. Those charges were big.”

Yes, they were, and she counted on the authorities to keep him behind bars. Surely they wouldn’t release him to the streets yet. She only needed a few weeks to get the information she wanted and then disappear again—after exacting vengeance, of course.

She knew all the officers. That meant she could walk up to the gates and ask for them. Yes, that was the best course of action, but she needed time. Time to think of a reason for faking her death, and time to gather her strength.

She eased back from Barbosa and twisted before he could see her face. “Thanks for the info.” She started walking away.

“You’re a…a ghost, right, Ever?”

“Yep,” she said without turning around.

The gun in her waistband comforted her. He wasn’t going to follow her and force her into the Raiders’ midst, but if he tried, she’d blow his balls off.

Somehow she made it to her car and turned the key in the ignition. The hair on her nape stood straight up, telling her Barbosa was still watching her. But he let her drive away—far away.

•●•

Ever was in Jamison’s lap, softer and more pliant than she’d ever been. He’d found her outside her house, just sitting in her car. When he’d opened her door, she’d gripped his hand and let him pull her right into his arms.

As if she was frightened.

He’d give her sanctuary no matter what Ace found out about her. And fuck Strother’s ruling. In the end, Jamison did what he wanted.

He took the cigarette from his lips and held it to hers. It gave him a thrill to share anything with her. Watching her eyelids shutter as she inhaled, he let her feel his bulge by rocking his hips.

Laughing, she blew smoke to the side and met his gaze. “You’re ready to go.”

“Always with you, baby.”

Beside them on the sofa, Bunky had a little blonde morsel straddling him. The smell of their sex permeated the air. A party took place almost every night, though tonight they were celebrating Strother’s homecoming. He and his old lady had been missed.

But Jamison wasn’t looking forward to explaining Ever to the prez. He tossed Ace a glance and found his friend looking back.

He must have intel on Ever. Or Alyssa Fox, whatever her name was. Jamison shifted Ever off his lap and stood. “Why don’t you go talk to Carol Ann for a bit while I take care of business with Ace?”

“Sure.” Too easily she walked away from him. No lingering kiss or fingers trailing down his chest because she was hesitant to leave his arms.

Shaking himself, he wove through the tables where guys were slumped over their drinks or copulating like dogs with the sweet butts. Jamison crowded behind the bar with Ace.

“What’d you find out?”

“I found David and Alyssa Fox. They are renting the house on Villa Navarra Way, but they’re living in Adams City again for the next few months.”

Jamison shook himself. “I’m not following.”

“That woman” —Ace pointed at Ever—“is claiming to be Eden Parkes from Daytona, and she’s paying the Foxes to let their house to her.”

Jamison shoved his fingers through his hair. “Let me guess. That name’s a lie too.”

Ace nodded. “Eden Parkes hardly has a life.” Ace’s eyes were dark with worry.

“Meaning?”

“The reference she used as her employer has never heard of her. So I sent one of our guys down there to check it out.”

The MC had people scattered all over the country, from coast to coast. Sending a guy to Daytona would be easy.

“And?” Jamison’s body tensed, preparing for the worst.

“Rainier ripped apart the office and didn’t find a single file on a woman named Eden Parkes or Ever. Jamison,” Ace clenched his fist, “this is a bogus alias.”

Jamison drew a deep breath through his nose. Her scents were all over him, and it was hard to think past that. But he had to face facts. If she wouldn’t confess to her identity, she couldn’t stay.

At least, he couldn’t keep her here with him. He’d have to start staying the night at her house. Or rather, the Foxes’ house.

Ace stared at him hard. “What are you going to do, boss?”

He glanced at Ever. She was smoking-hot today in a pair of cutoff shorts and a loose top. For once she wasn’t wearing a shade of red-orange, but the navy blue color accentuated her eyes. When she moved, a layer of bracelets slid up her wrist.

Jamison wanted to pin her wrists to the bed and thrust deep into her pussy.

Heat coiled in his groin.

He sighed. “I’ve gotta make her trust me enough to talk.”

“How you gonna do that?” Ace set two shot glasses on the bar and filled them with whiskey, not a drop spilled.

Ever bundled her thick hair over one shoulder as she talked to Carol Ann. Ace watched Jamison watching her.

Before Ace could comment, Jamison slugged back his whiskey. Through the burn, he said, “Being with her is a place like heaven, Ace.”

Ace had lifted his shot to his lips, but at Jamison’s words, he set it down and stumbled back a step. Copilot raised his head, alert and ready for trouble. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

Jamison met his gaze.

“You—a man who has never believed in love, not even after Amanda—has fallen.”

He sliced a hand through the air. “Amanda showed her true colors within weeks.”

“Yeah, none of us guessed she was a junkie. That’s why you’ve gotta get more information from Ever. Don’t you see, man? She could destroy you. Destroy the club.”

“She’s not a narc. She wasn’t sent in here to spy on us.”

She followed Carol Ann to a free table against the wall, and she took a seat with her back to Jamison. He didn’t like how vulnerable that made her. She ought to know enough to keep an eye on the whole room.