Page 3 of Accidentally Kidnapping the Biker

“Yes. Hey, I promised that you would call the cops to send somebody to check on a woman.”

“What woman?” Tolk repeats a second later. He’s probably multi-tasking, running my kitty Kat’s name as he speaks.

“The one at the gas station. You know, the one on the eighty-three by the tractor dealership? That’s where my kidnapper left her car. There was a woman working in the station who may have had an unpleasant encounter with the assholes with the guns.”

“I’ll contact Moritz and have him send a statie to check on her. Are you sure that you are safe?”

“Fine. We’ll talk later.” We’ll have to. I remember why Jefferson Cross’s name sounds familiar. He’s a regular at the Lonesome Bar and Grill, both as a customer and as a local the club sometimes hires to do odd jobs.

I don’t have a chance to ask Kat about her history with him, mostly because the shiny gray pick-up is back and flanking us on a curve. The driver has his arm out and is aiming through the open passenger window. When Kat taps the brakes, he races forward. Then she hits the gas, comes up beside him, and nudges his back quarter-panel with her fender. The crunch of fibreglass on metal is audible. The pick-up spins sideways and stops crossways on the highway. The car following swerves around it. “What the hell are you doing?”

“A PIT maneuver.”

“I know what the fuck it’s called!” I can’t believe she performed a precision immobilization technique in the middle of a car chase. She was a lunatic. “You could have killed us!”

“Not if I did it right, which I did. Besides, the bullets would have killed us first. Speaking of which—duck!”

I crouch below the seat and hear impacts on the van’s exterior. “Motherfucker,” I mutter. “Why are they shooting at you?”

“Jefferson Cross claims I stole his inheritance.”

“Well, youarea lawyer. Did you?”

“No! We bought some property from his very-alive parents.”

“Did you rip them off or something?”

Despite the traffic on the highway, she takes her eyes off the road and glares at me. “No. Are you going to call the cops to check on the girl or not?”

“My brother is.” She stares at me again. “He is,” I repeat. I admire her determination to make sure she doesn’t drag anyone else into this mess.

As we get closer to the city, traffic thickens, and the oncoming cars keep the vehicle behind us from moving along side. It was one thing to shoot at us when nobody else was around, but now a stray bullet could hit another driver, and it seems our pursuers aren’t up for second degree murder charges.

“I really am sorry about this,” Kat says. “I would much rather be up for Grand Theft Auto than kidnapping, but I didn’t know you were in the back. Obviously, I’ll cover all damages to the van and a replacement until it’s fixed. A friend is engaged to one of the owners of Lonesome Garage. Unless you have somebody you’d rather use.”

I know the Lonesome Garage. The club brother that I am making the delivery for is related to the owners. “Which one?”

“Bishop Dobermann.”

“I know Bishop. They’ll be fine.”

She takes a breath, and stares at me in the mirror. I give her credit for not shying away when she says, “If you’re going to press charges, I get it. All I ask is that you wait till I’m out of thishearing before you have me arrested. If I’m going down, I want to take Jefferson Cross with me.”

I want to take the fucker down myself. Shooting a woman at a gas station or running her off a road is no way to resolve a business dispute. Doing it in front of a witness is just plain sloppy. It’s possible Kat has it coming, but she isn’t giving off vibes to say she is guilty of anything. “What’s the hearing for?”

“Jefferson is contesting a land purchase, saying we used undue influence on his parents. I can’t not show up at the hearing, or they could reverse the purchase.”

“You’ll get there,” I promise. If Kat has fucked over Cross’s parents, I’ll help Jefferson deal with her. If she is innocent in all of this, I’ll be having a very different conversation with Jefferson about his business tactics. The Lost Souls do not need to be involved in a highway shoot-out, even second-hand.

“We’re coming up on the courthouse,” Kat says. “I’m going to park in front and walk right in. Unless you flag down security.”

“You’re good to go, Kat.”

“You’ve been a fantastic kidnapping victim, Wylie. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You owe me big-time.”

“I’ll be waiting for you to collect.”

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