Bail Out Page 3

  A loud voice drew my attention back to the stairs. DeRulo wavered at the landing, barely escaping a fall that would have taken out the two blondes who tried to hold up the heavyweight. Built like a linebacker, two broads were not keeping him upright long. Somehow the threesome made it down the steps, but I had no more time to watch their precarious progress. I punched the button on my phone and told JoJo to bring the SUV around. With quick steps, I ducked outside to the shadowed alcove between the club and the garage. From here I could make a move to intercept them whether they went for the valet or garage, provided JoJo showed up in the next damn minute.

  A sultry laugh floated on the night air. It came from the blonde I’d noticed at the bar earlier that night. The laugh and her knockout appearance distracted me from the mission. Damn, I wished we had time to tangle. JoJo still hadn’t made it to me when the three weaved their way into the parking garage.

  Fuck. I might have to incapacitate DeRulo and worry later about how to get him in the damn truck. I fell into step behind the trio with my eyes zeroing in on the ass outlined by the slinky, red dress. The other blonde was hot too, but something about the shorter, busty blonde made me salivate.

  The three stopped in front of a red Toyota truck. I stepped forward to intercept DeRulo when my blonde dropped her friend and shocked DeRulo with a compact Taser.

  Anger shot through me at the realization she was taking my bounty. I had no idea why, but without JoJo there wasn’t much I could do about it. Where was the bastard?

  Joey DeRulo grunted and the woman pushed him toward her truck. He fell inside and she bent low. Was that a thigh holster riding high on her beautiful leg?

  Damn. He’d just been had.

  The pretty little number had to be a bounty hunter. She swung DeRulo’s legs into the truck and slammed the door. The friend’s eyes opened and she said something to the woman by the truck. A bitter taste coated my throat—this was a setup and they had to be playing for an audience. I scanned the garage and saw the camera in a corner.

  Reluctant admiration flitted through me even as the pissed off settled deep in my chest. I’d knock JoJo out for this stunt. While I’d expected competition, I hadn’t even considered this.

  Dammit, she’d been undercover cozying up to my mark while I’d sucked down beer at the bar. Who was she? I hadn’t met her before because she wasn’t the type I’d forget. The red truck backed out and zoomed out of the lot.

  Wheels squealed on pavement when JoJo slid to a stop in the lot. Too little, too late. I stormed out to the curb where the black Hummer sat. I climbed inside and glared over at my brother. “Where the fuck were you?”

  “There was a goddam fender bender just as I pulled out.” He stretched his neck looking left and right. “What happened to DeRulo?”

  “A chick happened. A goddam seductress nabbed DeRulo right from under my nose.” I blew out a breath and let my head sink against the headrest. Outmaneuvered by the woman I’d fantasized about all night. One thing was certain, I planned to learn everything about her.

  * * *

  I woke early the next morning before my alarm on my phone even sounded. Throwing back the black comforter I stood and stretched my neck. Today would suck, no doubt I’d be razzed about letting a chick beat me to my score, no matter that she was a helluva woman. Even if she wasn’t my competition, I’d have checked up on her.

  A quick shower and protein shake later, I was headed out the door to my Harley for the weekly Council meeting at the clubhouse. The cool spring air woke me up more than my shower. Spring in Oklahoma was my favorite time of year. Maybe I’d spend the afternoon letting the miles of road strip away the shit from the past week.

  Turning off the highway, I drove up the long driveway to the clubhouse. The cement block building hadn’t changed, but now two houses dotted the horizon behind the clubhouse—Dare and Jericho’s new places. Bear already had his place down the hill, the area was turning into a regular Brotherhood compound, not that I’d ever plant roots here. Too rural, too much like my past. Ardmore suited me perfectly, bigger and less personal. I loved my brothers but I had no desire to have any of them in my fucking back pocket.

  I parked next to Rock’s bike; he just didn’t have style with his basic bike, but few had my sense of style. I strode through the front door and was stopped before I made it ten feet. Delta updated me on his latest chase up in Oklahoma City. We had a good system—JoJo tracked bounties and made bail up there, I worked Dallas, and Delta worked all three.

  I moved on, only to be stopped by Dogg who wanted to shoot the shit. No time for that. I glanced around the full club room, spotting Mama and Pixie serving breakfast. The whole place resembled a garage more than a clubhouse with its concrete floor and walls. The tables were rejects bought from sales across the county. If I decorated this place, it’d match, be top-line, just like Bound or any of our other businesses. When Jericho had rid the place of the Old Man’s hokey treasures, he’d left it stripped bare.

  Giving Dogg’s shoulder a squeeze, I moved on, managing to avoid more conversation. In the chamber, Jericho heaped a huge glob of biscuits and gravy into his mouth. Never a fan of that particular breakfast, I knew it was his favorite. I sat beside Jericho, nodding to the other guys.

  Dare gave me a shit-eating grin. “I hear a woman bested you last weekend, stole your skip.”

  “Maybe you should think about going drag,” Viper chimed in.

  “I’d make a fucking gorgeous woman.” I preened, not showing an ounce of weakness. These bastards would skin me alive if I let even a smidge of weakness show.

  The table erupted in laughter.

  Thorn strode in and shook his head at me. “Brother, you need me to teach you how to fight?”

  “Why?”

  “No woman’s ever beat me.” He crossed his arms. “Pathetic.”

  I sighed and bit my tongue, anything I said would only make it worse. Nothing we enjoyed more than razzing each other, hell, drinking even came second to giving each other shit.

  “Okay, leave Rebel alone, maybe he likes being whipped by women—each to their own.” Jericho cocked a brow at him. “We need to talk recruits.”

  Everyone settled. Club business came first.

  “I need to put a brother in charge of recruiting, add him to this council. It’s too damn much to keep up with, how they’re doing, where they go, when they need to change up places.” He shrugged and stared at each of us. “Shit, I’m glad we got so many wanting to join, but it’s a fucking headache.”

  No one spoke.

  “Who should we have do it?” Jericho smacked his hand on the table.

  “Zero,” Rock grunted. “But he still works for me. Or you two do.” He glanced at Dare and Jericho. “I can’t lose another experienced inker.”

  Dare stroked his chin. “We could work it out where J and I alternate Saturdays, and you could keep him say 30 hours.”

  “That’s better than we have now. And Zero has a way with the newbies.” Rock leaned back in his chair.

  “That’s settled. Rock, let Zero know about the job and have him talk to Dare.” Jericho cleared his throat. “I’ve asked Mama to put together a calendar of events we’re gonna do as a club.” He passed out the list. “Pick one to own.”

  Rebel scanned the list. “I want the Poker Run.” I loved riding and poker. “I’ve even got a charity in mind.”

  The other guys signed up and then Jericho moved to the reports on businesses. We continued through the list of revenues. I stacked up okay, but I wanted more—to be number one. This week that was Bound, although the sex club and the porn business had been beating each other out over the past few weeks. Not that the tattoo or protection business was losing cash. We all were competitive asses who liked to be on top.

  “In the last year we’ve moved from 56 members to 70 with 24 recruits, and a
t least half that many wanting a slot now.” Jericho grinned. “I like the way we’re growing, feels damn good to be here.”

  Getting the club out of the hands of Jericho’s dad had only been the beginning of the trouble, but we’d weeded out Renegade and the other bad seeds. We were stronger than ever.

  My gaze settled on Rock, reminding me of my one failure. I planned to fix that shit, but it bugged the hell out of me. Avery’s dad, who’d skipped out on his bond eight months ago, was still in hiding. The club had bought the property her dad had put up as collateral just to make everything right there, but as far as I was concerned, Gerald was top of my list.

  Rock stopped me on the way out of the meeting.

  “What can I do for you, brother?” I met Rock’s serious gaze.

  “Anything on Gerald?” He dropped his eyes to his boots. “I hate that bastard breathing free air.”

  Regret burned low in me that he even had to ask.

  “Me too.” I hated to let Rock down. “Nothing. I’ve got a net wrapped tight around Oklahoma, and feelers out all over the place.”

  Rock nodded. “We’ll get the bastard.”

  * * *

  The next morning I sat in my office at Jericho Bonds. Dunkin’ Donuts coffee on my black desk and a pile of papers scattered in front of me. I reviewed the latest bond contracts, stacking potential bounties in another pile to go over next. I fucking hated paperwork but being the boss meant paperwork. My phone rang and I hurried to answer it. With luck, it was a bond or an urgent bounty needing my attention.

  “What can I do for you, Rebel?” Gus’s rough voice greeted me. Gus knew every damn thing about bounty hunters in the southwest, and every damn thing that happened in Dallas.

  “I need to identify a player. She’s probably five foot seven blonde with a nice rack and she’s a bounty hunter.”

  “You meet Elle Jackson? Did she swipe Joey from you?” The old man cackled, ending in a coughing fit. I held the phone from my ear as he hacked into the receiver.

  “Who does she work for?”

  “Jackson Bonds, boy. Her old man runs that plum. Word is she’s on a hunt for cash, though no one knows why. Hell she’s been living at the jailhouse and scraping up more bounties than three men do in a week.” Gus cleared his throat. “Despite the tasty package, you need to know she’s a badass and could hand you your nuts on a fucking silver platter.”

  Did that make me feel better? Nope. Not in the least. I didn’t care if she was the fucking queen of bounty hunters, I didn’t lose to anyone. And if luck hadn’t been against us in Dallas, I’d have taken her bounty in a second flat.

  “Any other intel?”

  “Not on her.” Gus typed on his keyboard. “But Jack Jackson, her daddy, had a health scare some time back and word is he’s gotten strange, looking to sell his business instead of pass it on. Lots of folks speculating that she’s trying to raise the cash to buy the business.” He paused and I wondered if he was done.

  “Do you—”

  “Ain’t as if old Jack didn’t inherit that business from his daddy. Ellie will make the fourth generation of Jackson to run that business—oldest bail bond business west of the Mississippi. A goddam shame if she’s scrambling to purchase it.”

  I agreed but then I’d learned family disappointed you every damn time. My own family no longer spoke to me because I wore the Brotherhood cut. But they’d given up on me long before that when I’d only been a teenager. A sixteen-year-old son with a hankering for the wild life hadn’t set well with my father, the County Sheriff. The more he’d tried to set me straight the more bent I became.

  “Good to know. Keep me updated if you learn more,” he told the old man. “I got a case of that bourbon you drink like water and—”

  “The good stuff?” Gus barked into the phone.

  “Only kind I deal in, old man. And I’ll drop it by when I’m down that way next.” I chuckled at the whoop on the other end of the phone.

  “Boy, you have the best bribes.” The old man laughed.

  “And you have the best info in the business.” I knew the value of keeping my contacts happy. Besides the old cuss was likable in a crusty kind of way.

  While Gus had retired from the bail bonds business, he had contacts everywhere and, more important, he was often paid to suggest bounty hunters for the big contracts. I was all about securing the big contracts because of the cash and the chase. I wasn’t sure which I craved more.

  The day passed in the worst way possible, with me in the office doing paperwork. I needed to find an assistant, or at least needed something to distract me. As my clock hit four, I finished the paperwork then sent Gus an email about three skips I wanted to hunt down. He’d get me a shot at the contracts if anyone could. I rolled the phones over to our cell numbers and headed out. I locked the glass front door on the brick building Brotherhood Bonds called home when my phone chirped. I drug it from my pocket and answered. “Brotherhood Bonds.”

  “Yeah, uh, I need bond bad.” A shaky voice spoke into my ear.

  “You got the right place, man. How much? For what?” It always came down to those two things.

  “My name is Jeb Randall and this is all a bad mistake. I’m locked up at the downtown jail in Dallas.”

  It was always a mistake and everyone was innocent. Those two things weren’t my problem.

  When I didn’t respond he cleared his throat. “I got 500,000 bond. They say I killed my wife, but man, I didn’t do it.” Nervous tremors shook his voice.

  “You got something worth $50,000?” I pushed the speaker button while I searched his name on Google. The story came up right away. A man, 45, arrested for killing his wife in a hit and run. He had two children and a good paying job. I had no idea if he was innocent or guilty, but he looked like a good bet.

  “My house has that much equity, maybe more.” He paused. “Will you bail me out?”

  “Headed your way. I’m starting the paperwork, see you soon.”

  “Thank you, thanks so much.” He rattled on as I disconnected.

  I connected my phone to the Bluetooth in my helmet then dialed the sergeant on duty, telling him to start the paperwork. As we talked, I sped down the road toward Dallas. I’d be there in a little over an hour and with luck the paperwork would be done.

  The air smelled fresh outside Ardmore but that would change when I approached Dallas/Fort Worth. I parked between two cars right in front of the Lew Street Justice Center. Striding inside, I greeted several of the cops I’d gotten to know over the past few years. They gossiped worse than bikers, especially after I poured a few drinks in them.

  Benny, the desk sergeant, grimaced when he saw me head his way.

  “What?” I didn’t want to hear what he said next.

  “Randall made bail thirty minutes ago.” He gazed away, down at the papers he shuffled. “Elle Jackson bonded him.”

  That damn woman. She’d struck again. “But he called me.” Anger tinged my words despite my efforts to tap that shit down.

  “She was here talking to lots of the newbies, actually bonded four out, Randall included.” Benny shrugged. “Sorry, man.”

  “You know what’s up her ass?” This was the second time she’d caused me to lose cash.

  “Heard from a birdie that her old man isn’t giving her the company, she has to earn it somehow,” Benny said. “Man, she’s almost living here, bailing out all she can.”

  A growl escaped and Benny flinched.

  “No worries, Benny, we’re good.” I shoved down my frustration. “I may just leave Dallas alone until she’s done going crazy.” Even as I said it, I knew it was bullshit. I didn’t walk away from anything.

  “You’re not the only one pissed. She’s stepping all over everyone and that’s not her style, or the Jackson style. No one knows what, but shit is def
initely not right between her and old Jack.” He lifted his cap, scratching his mostly white head.

  “You give me a call if you learn more about their beef?”

  Benny nodded his head before I even finished the question. “You got it, Rebel. She’s on a crash course, and I hate to see it. She’s better than this.”

  Chapter Four

  Elle

  I carried two bottles of bourbon up the front steps of the house with peeling white paint. Knocking on the door, a smile crossed my face. Gus had been like an uncle to me growing up. He and my daddy had been best friends for years, and maybe he could help me in more ways than one.

  The door creaked when Gus threw it back. “Girl, I’ve been wondering when you’d slink over here.”

  Almost as round as he was tall, Gus held a chubby hand wide, inviting me inside. I followed down the narrow entry hall and into his worn-out living room. Nothing had changed in years, everything exactly where Mamie, his deceased wife, had liked it.

  I sat on the couch while Gus settled his girth in the brown suede recliner he practically lived in. His eyes lighted on the bourbon and his smile widened. “That’s the good stuff. Hand that over here.”

  I chuckled and complied, settling back onto the brown and yellow floral-patterned couch. There’d be no talking to Gus until he’d had a couple of swigs of the bourbon. I scanned the room taking in the photos of his children and wife hanging above the television, the only upgrade he’d made in the ten years Mamie had been gone.

  “Ahhh.” He sighed and set the bottle on a tray next to him. “That hit the spot. Now tell me, girl, what kind of trouble are you in?”

  I gulped and nervous flutters moved down my spine like dominoes falling. “Why do you say that?” My voice squeaked. Damn, so much for playing it cool.

  He shook his head. “Everyone knows you’re in some shit, no one knows what kind.” His small brown eyes bore into me.