Page 263 of Fearless

“Like hell.”

“Mercy–”

He lifted a finger in reprimand, and gave her a scowl that reminded her of her father, when he was at his most furious with her. It was a parental gesture, scolding the errant child. “Stop talking about it.”

She folded her arms, and felt the stacked-up stress getting the best of her emotions. “You aren’t really going to act like this, are you?”

“Ava.”

She turned her back on him, fuming silently.Rot then, she thought. But the tears came up in her eyes and she blinked them away as the hot sun fell in through the windows.

With minimal stops, it was about twelve hours from Knoxville to New Orleans. Looking for a runaway wannabe biker stretched the trek to almost sixteen hours. It was almost midnight when Aidan heaved his aching body off his bike and took three great steps away from the thing, not wanting his ass anywhere near the seat for at least a day.

“Jesus,” Tango groaned beside him as he stretched his arms up over his head and was rewarded with a sequence of pops and cracks. “Do I even have an ass left? I can’t feel it anymore.”

“Pussies,” Rottie admonished playfully, but he halted partway through his dismount, his face catching in a comical grimace.

Aidan snorted. “Should I call Mina and tell her not to expect any more kids?”

“She already knows not to expect them.” Rottie managed to get up on his feet. “I can’t afford another damn one.” He doted on them, though, his boys and Mina. Aidan wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone so glad about being tied down. Save maybe his own father.

The New Orleans clubhouse – an unattractive corrugated steel beast – was aglow with life, a beacon in the dark, crowded little neighborhoods down Iberville Street. A tall, fair-haired man was walking out to meet them, backlit by the light spilling from the front door. Bob Boudreaux, the Louisiana president.

“You boys look like you just got scraped off the front of a Peterbilt,” he said with a laugh as he reached them. “Feeling like roadkill, huh?”

Aidan accepted the man’s strong handshake. “Or worse. Thanks for leaving the light on for us.”

Bob shook Tango and Rottie’s hands in turn. He laughed again. “You think we go to bed around here?”

Aidan didn’t know, but he’d heard all the stories about the New Orleans crew. Things were wilder down here, in the Big Easy, more raucous and debauched than in the cooler climes of Tennessee.

“Come on in,” Bob invited. “We got plenty to eat. Decent mattresses. And Gabby’s girls can get you just about anything you need.”

Aidan hung back a step when they reached the door. Through it, he glimpsed bright splashes of color, furnishings the bland exterior belied. He smelled smoke and hops and heard women’s laughter. “Actually,” he said, “I need to make a phone call first.”

Bob nodded, and he and the others went inside, leaving him alone.

Mercy dreamed in his sleep, and in those dreams, he talked. Ava lay beside him, unable to sleep, and listened to the restless, nonsensical murmurings of his fever dreams. He didn’t stir when she touched his face. His skin was warm and dry against her palm. When she eased the sheets down, she saw the angry red veins surrounding his gunshot wound. Looking at it made her want to cry and hit him both at once, so she pulled the sheet back up, and stared at the ceiling, listened to the crickets and frogs.

When the phone rang, it startled her, but she was ready to answer it, springing out of bed and going to the landline in her underwear.

“Hello?” she picked up on the second ring.

Mercy rolled over in bed, but didn’t wake.

“Hey.” Aidan’s voice filled her ear, and she wanted to cry all over again. “Did I wake you up?”

“No. I can’t sleep.” She leaned back against the wall, propping a foot behind her. The steamy night air was cooler than the bed covers had been, and she enjoyed its soft brush against her skin.

Aidan sounded fuzzy and tired. “We just got into town. Rottie and Tango and me,” he said, anticipating her question about his company. “I gotta grab a few hours’ sleep. I wanted to make sure you guys are okay out there in the fucking Land of the Lost by yourselves first.”

She smiled. “We’re fine…” She closed her eyes. “No, that’s not true, actually. Mercy’s gunshot wound is infected. He needs to go see a doctor, but he won’t listen to me.”

Aidan snorted. “You know how he is. He thinks he’s invincible.”

“Yeah, but a lot of good he’ll do me when he’s too sick to walk and I can’t find my way out of this damn swamp.”

She could almost hear him frowning. “I’ll talk to Bob about it. Tango and I can ride out there tomorrow.”

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