Page 50 of Not Mine to Rescue

No, she didn’t. “Water or Electrolytes, or both.” I rummaged through her fridge. She had Margarita mix, diet, and Bloody Mary mix, again, diet, and ginger ale.

You can guess what kind. I popped the can anyway. “Here.”

“You’re so good to me.”

The next time I was at the club, I was going to ask Fin to tattoo “sucker” on my forehead. Either that, or I’d get DA’s full name there in big gothic letters. Those moon eyes she was fluttering my way clearly meant my badass image was shot to hell. I might as well make an effort to shore it up. “Listen, I got shit to do.”

She set the soda can down so fast it jostled. “Please don’t leave.” She scooted to the edge of the couch, poised to move.

I slow-walked toward the door, knowing not to turn my back on her. “It’ll be okay. I’m going to grab a couple of my buddies and we’re going to go hunt down ol’ Christian for you.” And probably give him a medal. Or at least find out if he had an alibi.

I bet he did.

And that thought must have telegraphed because Winter started begging. “Please don’t do that. It wasn’t that bad. I don’t want you to get in trouble over me,” and more BS like that, punctuated with no fewer than two “please don’t leave me’s.”

Now, if she’d been sincere, I would have stayed. But I can read body language—mostly in animals, but also in humans. I know when the rescues we bring in are scared. Winter wasn’t. She reminded me of the raccoon kits Lemon insisted we nurse to their inevitable criminal adulthood. They suckered her every time. Slipped their cages, got into the foodstuffs, ripped holes in the carpet, and terrorized the squirrels. Yeah. I was familiar with the type. She was plotting. I could guess the title of her tell-all book, too. It was called, trap the biker.

With one last-ditch effort, I tried to out-psyche her. “Don’t you want revenge?” I mean, that was the only reason you’d call a biker in the middle of the night.

“I need you. Revenge can wait.”

She delivered that line with the sultriness of a professional hooker. Maybe Indy could use a girl like her somewhere. That was some good acting.

But it was also a bear trap.

“You must have mistaken me for someone who gives a damn.” I took another step toward the door.

“No!” She pounced. Her leap landed short, but she glommed onto my leg with both arms. Her fingernails dug in. “Please don’t leave me. Please.”

Okay, that was desperate. And talking wasn’t getting me anywhere. I took another half-step toward the door and dragged my trailing leg, grade-A1 clinger and all, across the carpet.

The begging got louder. I stared at the door, knowing this was going to make a scene. But it had to be done. The image of an old fox we treated for a broken leg came to mind. He’d been caught in a snare and fought it, breaking his own leg. There were teeth marks near where the rope had gouged into his skin. Poor guy.

But he recovered.

Like that old fox, I swore if my actions took me down to a stump I’d get out. My hand hit the handle.

“I’ll tell the cops you broke Christian’s hand.”

I stared down at her. She’d loosened her grip but was still kneeling at my feet with those moon eyes. But instead of luminous, they were maniacal.

That meant no more Mr. Nice Guy.

“I have a whole club full of witnesses and a lawyer who kicks ass for breakfast. I dare you to do it. They’re going to subpoena Christian, and if he’s got an alibi for tonight, your little plan is toast.” I leaned toward her a little so she’d hear me as I lowered the volume to a whisper. “And that club I belong to? They don’t like snitches or liars.”

I stood up and switched back to my normal volume. “Let go of my leg.”

Her grip loosened.

“We’re done.”

I meant it. I shut the door on her and started down her steps. My next step was to report this to Walt, so he’d get Nickel laying surveillance on her. He bought GPS chips in bulk. I’d tag her car. Slip one in her purse while she was at work. Tag her shoes. Every single one of them.

Maybe after she found twenty or so, she’d get the hint?

The door flew open. She stood in the hole, stark fucking naked. “I’ll kill myself!”

There was a neighbor in the shadows waiting for their dog to finish taking a shit. Both the human and the dog looked at her, then at me.