Page 54 of Devil's Own: Roughneck

“I’ll call Gill again,” Danni says. “She’s a good one to have on our side and she has no relationship with the men like Betty does. They respect her. I wouldn’t want to ruin that. When do we need to leave?”

“I told Elise to give me an hour to wrangle up an escape. Then it’s a two-hour drive. So we need to leave in an hour.”

Danni swipes up on the phone she’s been holding in her hand to activate the home screen and presses a contact. She puts it up to her ear. “Oh, good. Gill. Are you busy?” she asks. “Great… Great. Are you up for another mission?” There’s a pause then, “Perfect. One hour. The exact same spot you picked us up from before.” She hangs up. “Gill is in,” she says to Dusty and me.

“Fantastic,” I reply because it is. Gillian is a good woman and will make a great agent one day.

Though, I hate having to do all of this ridiculous sneaking around. I’m a grown-ass woman. I’ve been taking care of myself for more years than most people my age have had to, which means that having to answer to a man doesn’t sit well with me at all. Yet here we are. It’s what I’ve accepted by accepting his love and his ring—at least for now. There’s a serious talk coming once we’re past this shit show.

We have an immediate problem. How do we walk through the field without being seen? It’s broad daylight. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Since it’ll take a hot minute to walk through the field and make it to the road, and in daylight, we have to make sure we listen for any cars or bikes to avoid any brothers seeing us. We put on our walking shoes and sneak out the back door one at a time.

We meet in the field, keeping to the forest line to hopefully mask our escape. Rather than walk a straight line, then a forty-five-degree angle, we have to walk a ninety-degree angle. It adds some time to the walk but is worth the trouble in the long run.

Since no one shouted at us or came charging, I figure that we got away clean—the first obstacle down. We keep walking until we hit the road and follow it the mile down the mountain to the next property over.

Twice we hear a car and hide behind the trees until it passes. I do a little happy dance when we reach the mouth of the drive where we’re supposed to meet Gillian. After waiting for only about ten minutes, we hear a car engine heading toward us. Like the time before, we hide to avoid discovery until the red Kia rolls to a stop. We step from our hiding spots, waving at Gill as we walk over to climb into her car.

“I’m excited you called again,” she says once we’re all inside. “Where’re we headed?”

“Richmond,” I tell her, pulling a length of seatbelt out to buckle around myself.

“Richmond? What’s in Richmond, aside from the university?”

“Other old ladies from one of our friendly MCs,” Danni replies.

Dusty chimes in, “They need a meet.”

She shifts back into drive and pulls a three-point turn to head us the less than ten-minute drive down the mountain. Once in Bentley, we connect with the highway then hit the interstate going north until we reach Richmond two hours later. I use the GPS on my phone to direct Gillian to our meetup.

Chinese food. I’m all about good Chinese food. There’s a silver SUV parked in the parking lot right in front of the restaurant. Gillian pulls in next to the SUV and turns off the engine.

“Do you know what they look like?” Gillian asks.

“I don’t,” I say.

At the same time, Dusty says, “I do.”

“I suppose we look for women who strike us as biker bitches,” Danni says.

“Beautiful biker bitches,” Dusty answers. “Wait until you see them.”

“You’re one to talk,” Gillian teases. And she’s not wrong. Dusty is gorgeous. “Do you want me to wait here?”

“You’ve proven to be a good friend to us,” I say. “Lunch is on me.”

“I’ll take you up on that, but just so you know, this”—she gestures around the inside of the car and out—“is fun for me. After you guys, nothing will get in my way with the FBI.”

We climb out of the car and walk up to the glass door of the restaurant. There’s a table full of women at the back of the room. All their beautiful heads turn our way andwhoa!—Dusty wasn’t wrong. Those women are freaking hot.

A woman with curly, red hair stands from her chair, smiling. “Dusty,” she says while walking over to us with her arms outstretched.

“Hey, Caity,” Dusty says as they embrace. “Maybe once this crap is over, we’ll be able to get together more often.”

To this, Caity rolls her eyes. “One can only hope.” Then she turns to Danni, Gillian, and me. “I’m Caitlin. My friends all call me ‘Caity.’ I’m married to the Lords’ president, Duke.

“Oh—you’re Dr. Brennan-Ellis?” I ask.

“Yes. When I’m on duty, when I’m not, I’m just Caity. Please, come sit.” She gestures behind her. We follow her back to the table, where the other women sit. “This is Elise,” Caity says.

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