Page 1 of Dane

Chapter One

Dane

The long ribbon of highway carried me south along the riverfront before the sun had cleared the mountain tops. Cold air bit through my coat collar and hit the back of my neck. My bike thrummed under me, a steady vibration through the handlebars and into my palms.

Three blocks later, I noticed a dark blue Fusion behind me. It held my pace at two car lengths, never dropping back. I watched it in the side mirror without turning my head. The driver kept a distance but didn’t seem to be trying to hide as they followed. So, I promptly ran the next light. If the cops had suddenly taken an interest in me, I wanted the biggest head start I could get. Not because I’d done anything, but because right now, I could pretend I didn’t see them and speed back to the compound. Once inside, the guys could call the lawyer who sometimes helped us out. If they blue lighted me, though, it was over. So? I did ninety.

The compact waited at the intersection. A couple seconds later, I slowed down. I still kept an eye out but went much slower so I could take my eyes off the road and glance back occasionally. I thought that might have been the end of it, but a half mile down the road, I spotted the same car. OK. I’d play.

Instead of continuing to evade, I led the fucker straight to the compound. If someone was after me, I’d need backup. It’s what Knuckles and Gunnar stressed when I first came here. If I got into trouble, my first call or my next stop would be the Kiss of Death compound.

It didn’t take long until I reached the warehouses by the dock where the compound sat. A few minutes later, I pulled up to the gate and waited. Sure enough, shortly after, the little blue Fusion rolled up to the entrance and stopped.

I swung off my bike and crossed the fifteen feet between me and the car in long, threatening strides. My fist came down on the compact’s roof hard enough to feel the metal give. The sound cracked through the predawn quiet like a gunshot. Inferno and Oktober stepped just outside the gate where they’d been on watch and waited to see if I needed backup.

“Who the hell put you up to this?” Cold air snapped at my coat’s collar. “Why are you following me?”

The driver’s window rolled down. A woman’s face emerged from the shadows of the car interior, pale in the gray light, dark hair pulled back, and she trembled visibly. Her gaze found mine and held.

At first, I was just annoyed. Then my brain finally caught up with my eyes and pushed away from the car like she struck me. All of a sudden, the past came back to punch me in the balls.

The woman at the bank. She’d been the one to testify against me. Her testimony had been crucial to putting me away, so her face wasn’t one I ever wanted to see again.

She exhaled. Her breath misted between us. An envelope sat clutched in her hands, pressed against the steering wheel like she was afraid to let it go.

“I -- I’m Brielle Sloan.” Her voice shook as if she were nervous or scared. Good. I hope she was scared. “I saw that charity-run article in one of the city’s online papers. I wanted to find you at your clubhouse and didn’t realize who I was following.”

“You saw me in town and followed me.” Not only was she a bitch but she was a stupid bitch. “You thought it was safe to follow a strange man affiliated with any kind of MC to their clubhouse? Is that what I’m hearing?”

She blinked up at me, shivering now in the October wind. “I…” She swallowed. “I guess so.” When she spoke that time, her voice was soft and subdued, likely knowing she’d fucked up.

“You’re not here about a fuckin’ charity run.” I held her gaze, letting my anger bleed through so she knew exactly what she was dealing with. “What the fuck do you want?”

She took a breath before opening the door and stepping out. She was smaller than I remembered from the courtroom. In fact, she looked like shit with her cheekbones prominent and her skin almost sallow. She looked like she’d missed more than a couple meals and run herself ragged. Outside the car, her breath came in short white clouds between us.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I didn’t want to testify against you, but I was being threatened.” She held out the manila envelope she’d been clutching to her chest, offering it to me. “This proves Grant Sutton built that robbery around you.”

This was not on my bingo card. “Evidence I was set up? The fuck ‘er you talkin’ about?” Twelve years. Twelve years I’d spent on the inside, just trying to survive in an environment not in any way, shape, or form friendly to a lone white boy. The lessons I’d learned had to be learned hard and fast.

She took a tentative step forward, insisting I take the envelope. “It’s all in there.” Brielle’s voice changed. The level quality thinned at the edges. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rourke. I never meant to be the bad guy in all this.”

Wind cut across the service road. Cold river air, carrying the scents of diesel and mud. Her hair stirred at the edges with a couple of strands catching on her eyelashes. She didn’t push them away, instead held the envelope.

I took the envelope from her just as I noticed another car. I’d been so focused on the blue car, I hadn’t spotted the other one. This was a gray sedan. Seeing it now triggered the memory, and I knew I had more than one person following me. When Brielle got out of her car, she’d turned the engine off. I’d been waiting for her at the clubhouse gate with my bike shut off. Which meant the gray sedan I’d seen earlier couldn’t see our lights and didn’t have a warning we were around the next bend.

As the car rounded the curve and finally saw us, the driver let off the accelerator a moment before continuing on as if nothing had happened. Admittedly, the driver could have lifted his foot on reflex. But I had a tingle between my shoulders I’d learned never to dismiss offhand.

Out of the corner of my vision, I saw Oktober and Inferno ready themselves. Inferno actually started toward me, though Oktober held back. Likely to have the wider angle, and to call for reinforcements.

The car continued on and had to pass close enough for me to see the outline of the driver behind the windshield. I thought the guy had a phone in his hand, but it was hard to tell as the floodlights glared against the windshield and the driver’s side window.

Brielle didn’t seem to notice the other vehicle. At least, she didn’t glance at it. Instead, she seemed so focused on me that nothing else around her seemed to register. I could see her hands shaking, but she didn’t tuck them away or try to hide it. Which meant she likely hadn’t known who was in the sedan or knew she’d been followed. If she had and this was a setup, she’d have shifted her gaze to the car on instinct.

Just as I thought the car would roll on and keep going, it stopped a few car lengths away from us. I could see the driver aiming his phone at his side mirror. Taking a picture?

“Don’t move,” I said to Brielle.

Oktober and Inferno both now moved to cover me and Brielle, between us and the sedan. The sedan stayed a moment longer. I caught the outline of the driver through the back window. Great.