Page 73 of Devil's Own: Roughneck

Every time the little prick looks at me, I can see the confusion on his face, like he doesn’t know what to do with me now that he has me. I’ve been good to him, treated him like one of my own. So then, why kidnap me? He’d have made more progress as a lone biker riding out for parts unknown, even if he was reporting on Greer’s whereabouts. All of this clicks, then.He didn’t want you. Horace must be working for Greer’s stepfather. From what I understand, he’d tried to kidnap her before. He wanted to marry her off to a man to have his debt to the man forgiven. Who’d have thought that having our father run out on me and Daniel made him the better father than the man Greer grew up with? She grew up wealthy in some swanky area outside Miami. I grew up anywhere our mother found a bed to sleep in and dragged Daniel and me along with her until that last scumbag killed her—and then we fended for ourselves.

Something about this doesn’t make sense, though. We already know the Death Bringers were working for Jack Dunham and that the club has a leak. This leak gave our positions away to the Death Bringers. So what I heard on the phone—is… is Horacethe leak?

Would Greer’s stepfather send the Death Bringers after the Horde to get Greer back? Would they order me killed? They don’t even know me. Maybe I’m part of Horace’s payday? He hit on methe dayI arrived in Bentley and so many days since.Oh shit—what if Jack Dunham is the man her stepfather owed money to?

Once I get us to Backwoods, there’s only one place I can think of to make my escape. The Road Rash bar, the owner a surly, handsome guy they call Old Man, owns the property where they hold a huge biker rally every August. Horace has no family and made his way to the Horde from Florida, just like me. So unless Greer’s family has property in these mountains nearing the town of Backwoods—we’ve passed at least two road signs so far, which gives me my confirmation—that’s where we’re heading. The place is tiny every other month of the year. They have a hotel, a gas station, a grocery store, and the Road Rash bar in Backwoods. Hence the name Backwoods.

The sky starts to darken by the time we reach the outskirts of the town by the field where the bikers gather for the rally. I’m not psychic or anything. There’s a huge sign. But we head straight into town.

“Stopping for a drink and some food. Keep your shit together, and I won’t hurt you,” Horace says as he parks in front of the bar. It’s a typical no-frills townie bar other than the time leading up to the rally. “Try anything stupid, and you’ll be dead before the barkeep can reach for his shotgun.”

A shotgun is very specific, leading me to believe he’s been here before. Not with the Horde. It’s been years since the Horde had enough downtime to make the journey. Some of the pussies were talking back at the clubhouse when we were on lockdown. They laughed and joked about heading to the past rallies with the brothers and how they couldn’t wait for all this crap to be over so they could get back to the good times that being affiliated with the club used to offer. Good times sound great to me. I can picture myself on the back of Rough’s bike, heading up here to party with other clubs. I bet every brother in the club is ready to get back to those times. I know from talking with Nic that my brother and the current Horde went to war with their old president at the same time she and Daniel hooked up. That was a hell of a story, one so much worse than what I’ve been through. So naturally, I wonder who Horace partied with, if not the Horde. Come up with friends to check out the scene? Come by himself?

More than that, how did he come to know Jack Dunham? What did Jack offer that Horace couldn’t get from his brothers? I need to figure this shit out fast if I plan to get home safely toallmy friends and family. All of them. But especially home to Rough and Waite. And Greer and Sarge deserve to rest easy. Okay. Time to do this.

I nod once, letting him think he’s in control right now. He drops his arm around my waist and ushers me forward. Horace then pulls the door open for us to enter the darkened bar. The place is dark because of the low lighting and oozes that laid-back chill vibe that adds to the biker bar experience. The bartender looks up from where he’s pulling a beer at the tap and squints at us.

He’s…wow—that’s a handsome man right there. I mean, he’s not Roughneck—because, let’s face it,no oneis Roughneck—but this man gets my panties a little slick. I smile at him, totally playing this thing off. He’s mid-forties, if I had to guess, with silvering temples and a few age lines that show he’s lived. But it’s his eyes. They’re—whoa!I’m not prepared for how crystal clear and blue they are. They’re like looking into ice.

“Little early for the rally,” he calls to us.

“Me and my old lady are just passing through,” Horace says as he moves us to a table.

“Horde,” the man says, looking us over. “I’d tell you that I don’t want any trouble, but I’ve seen the news. Know you’ve cleaned yourselves up.” Then, he picks up his phone from the lip under the bartop to answer a text.

Horace smiles a boyish smile. “I’m here with my old lady, proof of that.”

The bartender nods. “Since you’re new, they call me ‘Old Man’ and this is my bar.”

“It’s exactly like I’ve heard,” I say sweetly, and Old Man holds my stare for a beat, making me wonder if he knows something is up.

That’s when the door opens and a beautiful woman steps inside with two small children at her heels. Old Man smiles at the woman in a very knowing, loving way. I don’t even have to hear his “Hey, baby” to know she’s with him. This is some damn timing. I don’t want his wife or children here while I make my escape. What if they get caught in the middle of me and Horace? Who knows what he’d stoop to if desperate enough. Now I have to think.Dammit!Why does the universe hate me?

“Dane, baby,” she says in a loving, sexually contented woman voice. I know that voice well. I’ve used it several times myself since getting with Rough. “—the boys wanted dinner with you tonight.”

He hands the customer his beer, then rounds the bar to walk over and greet his wife with a kiss. Again, I’m not a mind reader. They’re both wearing shiny gold wedding bands. After taking care of her, he bends down to pick up the smaller of the two boys and takes the other boy’s hand. “Let’s get you set up,” he says to the little guys. “Got shepherd’s pie tonight.” The boys whoop like little boys raised in a biker bar. A sudden vision of my nephew Tripp whooping in the clubhouse on a family day fills my mind, and I double down on my vow to return to Rough, Waite, and Daniel.

As the woman walks by us, she turns to smile. “The boys love his shepherd’s pie, and it’s full of vegetables, so I call it a win.”

“I have a son, too. Definitely a win,” I reply. “Can I put in an order for shepherd’s pie?” I ask Old Man.

He nods. “You?” he asks Horace.

“Burger and fries,” the jerk answers, calm as you please. “Two beers.” He has no doubt that I’ll be a good girl and behave.Oh, dumb, naive Horace… You should know who you’ve kidnapped.

“Coming right up.”

After getting the boys and his wife situated, Old Man returns behind the bar to grab two frosty ones. I drink slowly waiting for my food, which I’m happy to get because I’m hungry. I feel safe here.

We eat and shoot the shit with the patrons in the bar so as not to draw any unwanted attention to ourselves. Once the little boys finish eating, Old Man tells his wife, “It’s getting late. If you get the boys lying down on their cots in back, you can come keep me company until I can leave.”

“Absolutely,” she says, leaning in to kiss him again. Then he bends down to kiss each boy on the head. It’s so sweet seeing yet another big, strong man be so loving to his kids. It’s a brave new world where manly men get to show emotion.“Nice to meet you,” she says to us before ushering the boys down a back hall.

Horace orders us more beer.

“Where’s the restroom?” I ask, and Old Man uses his head to gesture down the same hallway that his wife and kids walked down. “It okay I go?” I ask Horace low.

He nods. “Got five minutes, Gee.”

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