Love Ties (15 page)

Everyone gazed at him.

“Middleton gets a tail. We’re going to track every move that asswipe makes.”

“It has to be him bringing heroin and coke back into Heller’s Gap,” Blake agreed.

“It is.” O’Dovey’s tone was surer than any of the others.

Jamison leaned forward. “What do you know?”

O’Dovey’s fair skin scorched red. “I followed Sweetheart Sarah.”

Jamison tensed. Just a few hours ago he’d licked the taste of Ever’s pussy out of that woman’s mouth. And when he’d held her, he hadn’t noticed any of the tracks on her arms O’Dovey claimed to have seen.

“I was wrong about her.” O’Dovey met Jamison’s gaze. “She isn’t doing the speedball. It’s her sister.”

Blake dragged in a harsh breath. Sarah’s little sister, Cassidy, was barely sixteen.

“Fuck me,” Jamison growled.

O’Dovey bobbed his head. “It’s true. Sarah met with someone.”

“Money changed hands?” Jamison asked.

“No.”

“Sex?” Christ, he hoped not. Sarah was one of the only girls he could dream of getting out of her position and hopefully finding someone to love and take care of her. Besides, he couldn’t help but believe Ever would be crushed to find out the woman she’d slept with was prostituting herself for drugs for her junkie sister.

O’Dovey shook his head. “Again, no. I don’t understand it. They met, this guy gave Sarah something rolled in a brown paper bag. She put it in her purse and went straight home. Cassidy was waiting on the porch. As soon as Sarah pulled into the driveway, her sister jumped her for that package.”

Jamison leaned back in his chair and played the exchange in his mind. Yeah, it looked bad. But the girl they called Sissy getting drugs off her loving sister? That didn’t equate.

“What happened then?” Ace asked.

“They went inside. After about ten minutes, Sarah came out, got in her car, and left.”

“You tailed her?” Jamison asked.

“The whole way. She came back to the club.”

“What time was this?”

“Right before dawn. Before…” O’Dovey’s face reddened again, and several of the guys sniggered. What he didn’t say was “before Sarah landed in bed with Ever.”

A begrudging smile twitched at the corner of Jamison’s mouth. “Okay, we’re going to have to talk to Sarah. She’s bound to be defensive about all of this, and whoever does the questioning has to understand she isn’t the criminal in this case. She might be supplying dope to Sissy under some twisted guise of love, but the whole situation feels off to me.”

“Me too, boss.” O’Dovey tugged on his blond goatee, drawing it into a sharper point.

“Who’s going to talk to Sarah?”

As much as Jamison didn’t want the job, he was probably the closest to her at the moment, considering the circumstances. He lifted his palm off the table. “I’ll do it. I’ll try to talk to her tonight during the party.”

“Best of luck, boss.” Blake grinned like a fool.

“Don’t get so cocky. You’re going to be stuck to Ever so I can get Sarah alone. In fact, Ever is now one of your responsibilities. She needs protection when I’m not around. Got it?”

“Such a hardship. I volunteer, boss,” Rocket said from the end of the table.

Jamison leveled Rocket in his stare. “I don’t trust you to keep your pecker in your pants.”

“And you trust Blake?”

Yes, he did. But only he and Blake knew why.

He nodded. “Blake is Ever’s bodyguard. I’ll talk to Sarah. Anyone else have concerns to be addressed?” He looked around the table, giving each man his chance.

When he got to Franklin, the brother cleared his throat. “I’ve got an issue with…my ex. She needs money to pay for the kids’ braces for their teeth. Is it possible to get a little green pushed my way?”

Jamison looked to Robbie, who was club treasurer. Robbie poked a finger into his forehead—indicating that he was doing mental math. Then he removed his finger and nodded. “I think there’s a little extra from selling the antipsychotics.”

One of the local nuthouses had been hard-up for drugs for their patients. When they contacted the Hell’s Sons to get them some antipsychotics, the guys had made a run to the coast for it. The deal had made them a nice profit, and left a little extra for Franklin’s kids’ crooked smiles.

“You got it,” Jamison said. “Anything else?”

When no one responded, he rapped his knuckles on the table and adjourned. The guys scattered, and he went to leave too, but Ace stopped him.

He slid a paper across the table at Jamison.

“What’s that?”

“Emma Palen.”

Jamison snatched the paper and skimmed the print. She was a former veterinary medicine student at Alabama University, but she hadn’t finished. Her height and weight were there, along with hair and eye color. Photocopies of her driver’s license and social security card. She’d worked at a handful of restaurants as a waitress.

He lowered the paper and met Ace’s gaze. “It looks real.”

Ace nodded.

“But both of us know it’s bullshit.”

“Yep.”

“The only thing I see here is a connection between names.” Jamison skimmed the words Emma Palen with a finger.

Ace tipped his head. “Care to share?”

“Her initials. EP. Eden Parkes, Ever Palen, Emma Palen. She’s sticking to the same initials for a reason.”

Ace’s eyes gleamed. “Don’t stray too far from the truth.”

“Exactly.” He floated the page back to Ace. “Look deeper at last names beginning with a P.”

“I’m on it, boss.”

•●•

Strains of Led Zeppelin screamed through the club. Ever’s temples pounded in time to the beat. She turned to Carol Ann. “Don’t tell me—Rocket chose the music.”

“You’re learning fast,” Carol Ann hollered close to Ever’s ear.

The club had been decked out with a welcome home banner, and every club member in Heller’s Gap was present. Even a few cops had stopped in to welcome back one of their citizens.

The sweet butts seemed to have multiplied, crawling like flies. There wasn’t a man without a girl glued to him. Except Jamison.

He was deep in conference with Strother. Three guys blocked them from the view of the room, but once in a while, one would shift and Ever would glimpse Jamison’s fist that rested on the table.

That fist said so much.

It was relaxed, palm up. The lines of the tattoo he’d gotten for her were on display for their prez to question. And he would. Any good prez kept a finger on the pulse of every man in the MC.

The man moved to the right again, obscuring Ever’s sight of Jamison’s fist. She patted Carol Ann’s shoulder and said, “I’m going to talk to Ace.”

He stood behind the bar, beer in hand, smiling and laughing at something another brother said. Ever went behind the bar and bumped his hip with hers.

Shock flitted over his features. “What do you need, sugar?”

“Need your laptop for a bit.”

His brow crinkled. “What for?”

“I’m supposed to make Jamison a cake tomorrow for his birthday. I need to look up recipes.”

He stared at her for three heartbeats while the Led Zeppelin guitar solo wailed. Ever glanced toward Jamison and saw his fist clenched. She swung back to Ace. “Please? I promise not to hack your shit.”

He chuckled. “Like you could, sugar. Okay. Help yourself.” He twitched his jaw toward the laptop, and Ever smiled.

She spent some time searching recipe sites and then eventually found a forum for moms. A picture caught her eye, and she pulled up a recipe on a devil’s food cake with peanut butter bonbons inside and a whipped peanut butter frosting.

As long as no one in the club had a nut allergy, she was good. Then again, who the hell cared? The cake was for Jamison.

She printed the page. Ace shot her a smile, and she returned it even as she browsed his computer history. There were at least a dozen pages on Emma Palen and more on Alabama residents with the name Ever.

Fuck, he was getting too close. She had to lead him in another direction. Again.

Sighing, she closed the windows and got her recipe off the printer. She folded it and shoved it in her back pocket.

Jamison called her name. When she lifted her gaze, her heart kicked into a jog. Her lover crooked a finger for her to come to him, but he was still sitting with Strother.

The badass biker was prez for a reason. He was scary as hell. Tall and intimidating with ropes of muscle, he wore his hair close to his scalp, and ghosts lived in his eyes.

She shuddered. He was so much like Stone.

“Go on,” Ace said from beside her. He slapped her ass, and she hissed, jerking forward. Her feet propelled her across the room. When she reached the table, Jamison pulled her down onto his knee.

Tonight she’d worn her favorite jeans with the rhinestones on the pockets and a lacy top. It wasn’t too revealing, but she felt sexy in it. And the blood orange color was her signature.

Strother’s gaze glued to her. He was a handsome man with a strong jaw and a hooked nose. He was too observant for her comfort. The way he looked at her left her feeling transparent.

She crowded closer to Jamison, and he tugged her against him.

“Meet Ever.”

Ever extended her hand. Strother clasped it and kissed her fingers. Something warm and dark slid into her stomach.

“I’ve heard a lot about you already. I can see why Jamison’s taken a fancy to you.”

Heat rose in her face, but she didn’t show weakness by looking away. “I’m happy to meet the club prez.”

He smiled. In the graying ring of his beard, his lips were hard. “Have you met my old lady yet? Where’s Trina?” He glanced around. With a wave of a hand, he brought a woman to his side.

She was tall and shapely, wearing fitted clothing that wasn’t too revealing. Like Carol Ann, she had a no-bullshit presence. She smiled at Ever and leaned against her man, discussing the party.

The couple had recently suffered a painful loss, and it showed on their faces. Ever imagined their eyes would be brighter without that hurt, and they’d have fewer lines. But overall, they were standing tall in the storm.

The four of them talked for a while, and then the guys dismissed the ladies. After Ever walked away, she saw Jamison’s fist tighten again, and he said, “I’m not going to let you use her.”

Panic swallowed her. She stared at the prez and vice prez as their faces grew redder and their words louder. She backed away and came up against a wall of flesh.

“Take it easy,” Blake said, locking his hands on her upper arms.

“Shit.” She threw Ace a look. What had he done? Surely the information he’d provided the prez about Emma Palen wasn’t causing this? And she’d said nothing to Strother to raise suspicion.

Jamison shoved away from the table. His chair flipped. The cracking noise reverberated through the room, and everyone stopped.

“Turn that shit off,” Ace told Rocket, who tapped a button on the jukebox. The music faded.

Jamison’s angry tone was clear and strong. “Let’s take this to church.” He scanned the room, including the members. “There’s a vote.”

Then his gaze settled on Ever. His dark eyes burned a warning into her.

Yes, this was about her, and she should be afraid. He was.

She tore from Blake’s grasp and started toward Jamison’s room. She’d gather her shit and get the hell out of here. She didn’t need this. What had she been thinking to get herself involved in another MC? She fucking knew better.

Blake dodged in front of her, his big body blocking the entire corridor. Those striking dark eyes would melt a woman’s panties off, but she wouldn’t be swayed.

“Get out of my way. I’m leaving.”

“Boss said you’re staying.”

“And you’re my bodyguard, I suppose?”

He nodded, full lips tilting into a bad-boy smile. The soul patch under his lower lip twitched. “That’s right.”

“Fuck.” She ran her fingers through her hair, and he tracked her movement. Maybe…

Taking a deep breath, she sauntered up to him, using the sway of her hips to draw his attention. When she planted her palms on his chest and leaned close, his smile widened.

This could work if he thought with his dick and didn’t enter Jamison and his potential fury into the equation.

Ever stood on tiptoe and let her breath wash over Blake’s lips. “Maybe we can strike a deal. All I want is to go home. Let me get my purse and jacket, then you drive me.”