“Oh God,” I sniffed, wiping at my eyes as I allowed him to lead me away, “that was so hard.”
“That’s a good thing you did, and it took guts.”
“I had to.”
“You didn’t, but I’m sure Lilly appreciated it.”
I kept close to the Larke men as the club grieved. The men, like me, felt like outsiders. “We should probably go,” I said softly. “Let me tell Colt.”
I stepped away from the men and walked to where Colt, Fish, and Grace were speaking softly to Lilly. I paused a respectful distance away, and after a moment, Grace noticed me standing there, and approached.
“We’re going to go,” I said softly.
“Okay. Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for…”
“Yeah,” he said softly when I ground to a halt.
He followed me back to the drill crew and offered his hand and a thank you to each man. Before he’d completed shaking each man’s hand, the rest of the brothers approached and shook each man’s hand in turn and murmuring their thanks. I stood to the side as silent tears crept down my cheeks. I didn’t know why the BDMC quietly expressing their gratitude to the Larke men affected me so, but it did. Limpkin held back until he was last, and added a special thank you, along with an extended handshake, to each man who had come to his aid.
We left immediately after Limpkin finished shaking hands. I was quiet the entire ride back to the drill site, but I could tell from the quiet conversations of the men around me, they’d never look at bikers the same way again.
.
.
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COLT
“Where are you?” I asked after pushing the button to accept the call.
“We’re about to turn onto Eagle Pass,” Juice said.
“Okay. We’ll meet you at the RV.” I ended the call and turned my attention to Willow. “Food’s here. Or will be in about twenty minutes.”
“We could have gotten the groceries ourselves.”
“The guys were coming anyway. Why should we drive almost two hours when we can have them do it?”
“Hank, I’ll see you back in Houston,” she said as she closed her laptop and began stuffing it into its case.
This was the last day of sounding. She was going to stay another few days, waiting for the derrick to bring up the first core samples, but then she’d return home to Houston where she could do a deeper analysis of the samples.
“Yep. See you there.” Hank spun in his chair and extended his hand toward me as he stood. “It’s been a pleasure getting to know you, Colt.”
I took the man’s hand and shook it firmly. “Same. If you get back in the area, look us up.”
“I might just do that.” I tried to pull my hand back, but he held it. “I just want to say… I’m damn sorry about your man… we all are… but thank you for keeping Willow safe.”
I nodded as he released my hand. It’d been nearly a week since we buried Packard. Willow was more like her old self, and my grief had morphed into a grim determination.
The Maverick County Sheriff’s Department hadn’t done shit. They were so fixated on the BDMC and our past they simply couldn’t, or wouldn’t, believe the shooting wasn’t related to us, and had suggested to Willow she’d be safer if we were out of the picture. I hadn’t been there, but I’d wish I had been when Fish had described how Willow had gone off the cop like a nuclear explosion when he suggested we were the one’s putting her in danger.
Once Willow was safely back in Houston, my bothers and I had some work to do because the MCSD weren’t completely fucking useless. We hadn’t spoken it out loud, but we didn’t have to. I knew we were all thinking the same thing. The BDMC was leaving our past behind us, but before we could fully do that, we had one more thing to do. We weren’t going to stop until Packard was avenged… with the added benefit of making Willow safe.
I stepped out of the truck and stood on the first step, carefully scanning the horizon with a pair of binoculars as Willow waited inside. I double checked, sweeping my magnified gaze over the dry and dusty landscape again, looking for dust, something that had moved, or anything else that looked out of place, but I saw nothing.
I opened the door to the truck. “Let’s go,” I said as I trotted down the steps.
The moment her feet hit dirt, I took her by the arm and placed my body between her and what I considered the most likely place for a sniper to setup if they were out there. With the recorder truck at her back, and her Jeep protecting her front, the shot could only come from the sides.
There’d been no more attempts on her life since the rig, but I was taking no chances. Packard had purchased her life at the cost of his own, and I wouldn’t dishonor him by making his sacrifice meaningless.
Keeping her close so that my body made it hard for a shooter to be sure of his target, I kept her moving as I quickly shoved her into the Wrangler and closed the door. I hurried around the front of the Jeep to throw myself behind the wheel and start the vehicle in one motion. Willow was already buckled in, and I snapped my own seatbelt after I got the Jeep moving.
The Jeep still looked like hell, even after I cleaned up as much of Packard’s blood as I could, but it still ran and drove okay. I drove fast, the Jeep rattling and skittering over the rough roads, my eyes in constant motion, scanning from the road ahead of me, to the rearview mirrors, then to both sides, but I saw nothing. I pulled to a stop with the passenger door facing the coach so she didn’t have to walk around the vehicle. Leaving the Jeep running, I circled the Wrangler, unlocked the door to the coach, and stepped inside. I was now comfortable enough that I’d find the coach empty that I’d stopped drawing my weapon before entering.
I quickly checked the bathroom and bedroom, the only two places that a person could hide. Finding nothing, I returned to the Jeep, leaving the coach’s door open. We had it down to a routine. With the coach’s door nearly touched the fender of the Jeep providing additional cover, I opened the Jeep’s door as she reached over and switched the Wrangler off, leaving the keys in the ignition in case we had to bug out. With the coach, Jeep, the Jeep’s open door, and coach’s open door obscuring all four side, I pulled her out of the Jeep and hustled her inside the coach, slamming the Wrangler’s door and locking the coach’s door behind us.
Until the shooting, Willow had left the blinds open on the coach for the light and so she could see the landscape, but now they remained closed. When I heard the rumble of approaching motorcycles, I carefully pulled the shades aside as Fish, Grace, and Goose rolled to a stop and began to dismount. A moment later, Big Dick’s truck pulled to a stop before he and Rich Whatt stepped out.
“Wait here,” I reminded her as I stepped out to help lug in the supplies. “Juice! You decided to tag along?”
“Yeah! I brought something to show you.”
We hauled the supplies into the RV in one trip, then Juice returned to Big Dick’s truck and returned with a rifle case. “Lucia gave me this yesterday for my birthday,” Juice said as he opened the case and pulled out a bolt-action rifle with a wood stock in a beautiful gloss finish.
We all took a turn admiring the weapon. “May I see?” Willow asked.