Ride to Restoration (Ride Series Book 2) (28 page)

BOOK: Ride to Restoration (Ride Series Book 2)
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Chapter
53

A
t
twenty past one, American Eagle, FLT 2289 lifted off into the northeastern sky,
carrying Victoria Lawson, Attorney at Law away from me, further still away from
harm. Five hundred miles and seven plus hours away, the Ameristar Casino, my
last overnight stay before the lush green mountains of Tennessee would appear
in my windshield.

Driving
south on I-29, I skirted the Missouri River, driving through an abundance of
cornfields all the way to St. Joseph, Missouri. There the terrain changed,
turning into rolling hills to Kansas City and east on I-70 to St. Louis.
Driving my Tundra after a month on the bike was a welcome respite no matter how
much I loved two wheels.

Sirius
radio and I got reacquainted after a long absence. I also enjoyed the
artificially created luxuries I

d done without, i.e. A/C and heat.
One
never appreciates what they have until it

s
gone ... Lately, that

s the story of my life.
Traipsing through my mind were the
memories I

d made with Candi from Tennessee to
Alabama and all points West, followed by those I

d
made with Vic on the ride back East.
What do I bring to the table that would
make either one of these beautiful young women want to spend their bright
futures with me?
That was the million-dollar question I can

t seem to answer.

My
phone vibrated then rang, number blocked. Had to be Jim. Or was it? I answered
reluctantly with a question.


Yes?


D,
is that you? It

s
Jim.

Relieved,
I exhaled before continuing,

Hi, Jim. Yes, it

s me. Thanks for the alert.
What can you tell me that I don

t already know?


My
sources tell me someone from the Family you

ve been recently ... uh-hum
humping ... is trying to collect the bounty Standford put on that ugly head of
yours. I

m
led to believe they know where you are. It

s possible they have
compromised your recent flavor, excuse me, flavor

s phones and
have tracked them to you and your location.


That

s encouraging. I

ve changed phones every week,
even used the Sat phone you gave me.


Doesn

t matter, D.
We

re
talking NSA stuff here. Somebody with extremely large gonads, throwing around
large sums of cash that wants to find you bad enough, can, as long as you leave
any type of electronic trail.


Sucks to be me, huh? ... Mayberry ... It

s sounding better by the
moment.


What?
... Mayberry, who said anything about Mayberry?


Inside joke. I can toss this phone and use pay phones from
now on. Then again, sounds like it wouldn

t matter one way or the
other. I

ll continue to use both. Give

em something extra to
decipher.


You

re dead on.
They can still locate your general location if they

re monitoring
the people you

re
talking to. That aside, we probably need to relocate you again. You got that
message. Right?

I
exhaled again.

Loud and clear, Jim. Loud and clear.


How long do you think it
would take you to wrap up your business and move again? I can assign a small
protection detail to stay with you until then.


I hate to tell you this, especially after all you

ve done for me, but I

m inclined to take a rain
check on your offer. I

m tired of starting over. I

m thinking about retiring to
an island somewhere and writing a book. If I do, I

ll send you a postcard along
with a signed copy.


You

re serious? We did a good
job of protecting you, that is, until you started thinking with your dick
instead of your brain.


I do resemble that remark. I got it. Me and dick were out
of sorts at the lake. Lonely ... is my one word description. Actually, I thought
I

d
found something that made us both happy ... and who knows it still might. Funny
thing is, it

s gonna play out over the next few days one way or the
other.


I don

t agree with you leaving the program, that

s my official statement. On
the other hand, I understand. If you

re off grid

off radar

you

re no longer in our system waiting to be hacked or
compromised. What can I do, if anything, to help?


Send the Calvary if and when I call. I

m snatching the dog tomorrow
on my way through and heading south. I

ll be in touch. Thanks.

I pressed end.

Chapter
54

T
hank
God for windshield time
. Make a plan ... weigh it ... revise it ... trash
it ... make another one.
Over the next few hours that’s what I did. The
only thing I knew for sure was a costumed Benefit Ball for Children’s Hospital
happening in Tampa next Saturday night, ten days from tomorrow.
That gives
me two days to pick up Major and grab my stuff, two days to get to Tampa and
then a week to put my recently hatched plan into action.

Do I meet up with Candi
immediately or wait? That thought immediately started a rise developing in my
jeans. Wait until you have a plan in place, said my big brain. Got to get in
touch with Giovanni to make either call. On the outskirts of St. Charles my
phone vibrated, then chirped with
a text from Vic:

Arrived in Atlanta, renting a car. Call if you can.

Of
course I can when I get to the room. And say what?
I had approximately ten
minutes before I descended upon the Ameristar to come up with an answer.
If it doesn’t work out with Candi —
and there’s a fifty-fifty chance it won’t — will I welcome Victoria back
into my life?
Would she welcome me?
Women and woo-hoos — woo-hoos and women ... they’re bound to be the death
of me yet. Ahh…But what a way to go!

I pulled into valet parking and gave the kid two twenties as
he handed me a receipt. “Park this somewhere where you can keep an eye on it.
Don’t want anyone messing with my bike.” He laughed, I didn’t.

“Yes sir,” this uniformed teen replied somberly, standing
straight and tall, “I’ll park it in a ‘No Parking’ area directly across the
street where I can keep an eye on it personally. Name’s Jake. Welcome to the
Ameristar Hotel and Casino. Are you staying with us tonight?”

I like this kid. He so reminds me of me.
I peeled off
two more twenties and tossed them in the console. “You’re astute, son, I’ll
give you that. Thanks.” Snagging my daypack from the back, I tossed it in the
front passenger seat, before unlocking my glove box and retrieving a holstered
Glock ACP .45 with an extra 10-round clip. Jake turned ashen white. “Just in
case I win,” I quipped, “I won’t need it if I lose. Either way, you didn’t see
it,” I concluded, while handing him the other two twenties.

Because it was a weeknight, check-in was a breeze. I
requested a room on the 15th floor overlooking the Missouri River. The staff,
as usual, graciously accommodated. My king room was luxurious, featuring floor
to ceiling windows and a sunken living room.

Yep, this will do.
Not that I planned staying here
for long. Tonight, it was just me, a bottle of Smart Water and a two hour
appointment at the crap table where I hoped lady luck would shine on me, or
not. First, I needed to connect with Victoria. Retrieving her number from my
phone, I called her using the landline.

On the fourth ring,
“Victoria
Lawson, may I help you?”

“You may. The valet at the casino gave me your name and
number. Since I wasn’t feeling lucky tonight, he said you could fix me up. For
a rocking good time call—

“Me? ... Damn good
times, as I recall — at least for you — for me, not so much in
the beginning. ... But hey, who’s counting? What number is this? ... You swap
phones again?”


Nope, landline. You made it to Jasper?”

“Not yet ... Took a
detour, went shopping at Lenox Square. Now I’m having dinner with my cousin at
Sam Houston’s in Buckhead. You’ve been here, I’m sure.”


I have ... Lots of night life. Doesn’t crank up till
way late, that is, at least on weekends.”

“Yep, you’ve been
here. That’s what I remember about hot Lanta. Party late, party hard ... sleep
in until two. Enough about me, you have anything new to report?”


Not yet. I’ll be back in the land of milk and honey
tomorrow. After that, it’s a toss up, most likely the Sunshine State. We ... I
mean
I
... need to resolve this drama relatively quickly so you can get
on with your life.”

I laughed somberly.
“Who
knew, meeting you would keep me on an extended vacation? Take care of you,
please.”


Ditto, take care of you. I could use you right now—
Don’t ask.”

I glowed.
“I won’t ...
I’m glad ... you miss me.”


Yep ... Drink one for me girlfriend. Later.”

“Gladly, D, maybe two.
See ya!”

Five minutes later, the distinctive sound of clanging slot
machines echoing across the casino filled the air. The average age tonight was
seventy-plus — the white hairs outnumbering the grey hairs five to
one. I landed at the third craps table I found. Though the current shooters
perky breasts were entirely distracting, I found my lucky spot at the end of
the table opposite her and planted. Tits of distraction aside, it didn’t take
me long to get in a groove.

Over the next hour, I turned five Franklins into five large.
Bouncing, titillating ‘Betty-what’s-her-name’ rode with me, matching me bet for
bet until she was happier and I was significantly healthier. I cashed out. It
was fun, it was fast, it was exhilarating. I needed that momentary escape from
all that was behind me, not to mention all that lay ahead.
 

Relieved to
exit the Casino
floor without another Victoria-like encounter like before, I made it to the
room, gazed out over
the mighty Missouri River, took
a deep breath and crashed.

Chapter
55

A
lthough
luxuriously swaddled in the feathered bedding of the Ameristar, the finest by
any standards, I woke abruptly from a deep sleep at 4:10, fifty minutes shy of
my alarm. Yes, I could lay here and dwell on the what-ifs or I could shower and
shave and get an early start home. I chose the latter.

Thirty
minutes later and another forty bucks lighter, thanks to the attentive morning
parking valet, I was on the road traveling east on I-70 straight into St. Louis
rush hour traffic. Stop and go with my bike and trailer in tow, I spent the
next hour negotiating merges at 25 mph before crossing the mighty Mississippi,
eastbound on I-64. Barring any unforeseen acts of God, I hoped to pick up Major
by noon and after unpacking and repacking, be on the road to the land of
oranges by four.

At
least that was my plan before noticing a black Suburban with dark tinted
windows, hanging exactly six cars back as I passed through O

Fallon, Illinois. It didn

t matter whether I cruised
at 60 or 80, the distance between us never changed. Turning south onto I-57, I
took the first exit in Mt. Vernon to fuel at the Pilot while the Suburban
stopped across the road at a competing station, never once leaving my line of
sight. I made the call.

On
the first ring,

Jim, it

s D. I have a tail. I

m in Mt. Vernon, Illinois at
the Pilot truck stop. Just one vehicle that I can tell. Number of occupants, I
have no clue.


D,
don

t
go anywhere.

Two minutes
passed.

I

m back. I

ve patched you
into the St. Louis field office.


Yes,
sir, this is U.S. Marshal Donnelley. I can put a rapid response team together
and be at your location in forty minutes, an hour tops. Excuse me, D, is it, is
this threat imminent?


How the hell do I know if it

s imminent? Jim, is this
threat imminent or am I blowing smoke up Marshal Donnelley

s ass? Stay on the phone
with me for a minute and I

ll run across the street and ask.


Donnelley,
D doesn

t
cry wolf,

countered
Jim.

Threat
is credible and verified out of our Tampa office three days ago.


Marshal Donnelley, is it? I

m gonna grab some breakfast
to go. Forty miles south, give or take, there

s an out of the way boat
launch at the Ina, Rend Lake College exit off I-57. I think there

s a Love

s truck stop on the other
side of the exit for reference. You know the place?


It
seems vaguely familiar. I remember the Love

s. Oh, hell, I

ll find it.
What do you want me to do?

asked Donnelley, now engaged in my predicament.


I

m gonna hang out here for another ten, fifteen minutes.
Then I

m
driving south. I want your team to be dropped in by air, and out of sight by
the time I get there. I need some answers that only I can get before you
interfere

excuse me,
interdict.


If I remember correctly, the launch area is about three
hundred yards long. I

ll park at the furthest point, closest to the lake with no
way of escape. They

ll confidently come to me, and hopefully you. Oh, I

m driving a dark blue Tundra
pulling a motorcycle trailer. My friends are in a jet black, late model
Suburban that has no good written all over it.


Donnelley,
we owe him. Don

t
screw this up,

replied Jim.

D,
will do his part, make sure you do yours.


Copy
that,

Donnelley
said.

D, how will we know when to
move in?


Good question. If and when I get the answers I need, I

ll move to the back of
motorcycle trailer. You can take it from there. Hey, Donnelley, look for any
strange motions on my part. I may need your assistance to get their undivided
attention at some point. You

ve got fifty minutes, give or take, beginning now. Good
luck.

the call
disconnected.


D,
it

s
Jim. Marshal Donnelley will be there. Between us, what questions do you want
answered?


I want to know who

s behind this, Standford or
the Family. Better still if it

s Joey, the ex-husband scorned.


Then what?

Jim asked hesitantly.


Then I

ll know how fast and far I need to go or if I should stay
and fight.


D,
if you stay and fight, we

d
like you to remain in the program. I can help you more than you know. Remember
the train wreck in Canada? You called for help; I made it happen.


I remember, thank you. I

ll consider it. Thanks again
for your help, Jim. Gotta go.

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