Page 19 of Blue-Eyed Jacks (Destroyers MC: Skilletsville PA #1)

Trenton, New Jersey—Kate

N ew Jersey wasn’t the same as I remembered. The shelter I’d stayed at sixteen years ago was now an apartment or condo building, and the resale shop I’d worked at was completely restaffed. I didn’t recognize anyone.

The restaurant was a long shot. The neighborhood it was in was almost worse than I remembered.

Zoe shot me incredulous eye daggers every step of the way.

Luckily, she stayed close and quiet. We walked in, gathering more attention than I cared for.

I went to the counter, barely scanning the menu, and asked for George.

Of course, the staff didn’t know anyone by that name. Discouraged, I nudged Zoe to pick something for dinner. We hadn’t been eating right since we left Maine, and money was getting tight. But I had to spend something here or risk standing out further.

“I’m not hungry.”

Her attitude was grinding my patience to a stub.

“Get it for the road then.” I redirected my attention to the cashier.

“What do you suggest will keep for a couple hours?” My nerves were shot, and I needed safety.

But I also needed answers. How had my father found me?

Did Shock go after Jackson already? Was anyone I knew safe?

“You lost?” the cashier asked, too loudly.

“Yes,” I admitted, despite Zoe’s violent shake of her head and the death glare sent my way.

As the cashier gave me directions to the interstate, I pretended to pay attention.

I knew four ways out of this town. Each way was worse than the last. North?

I’d run the risk of running straight into Shock’s minions.

East? I’d run out of country and be trapped against the coastline.

South? We’d were pointed that way. Continuing on that path was predictable.

And the remaining compass point was where I wanted to go, but also needed to avoid at all costs. Both Jackson and Shock were in that direction.

One of the patrons stood up and Zoe moved so close I thought she was trying to meld into me.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Did you ask for a man named George?”

I glanced his way and caught the aged marks on his hands. “Yes, George Williams, he’d be about fifty-seven now? I think.”

The man nodded and grinned. His capped teeth flashed. “Old George always had a weakness for pretty ladies.” His eyes dipped southward, and I told myself that this was expected. I shouldn’t take offense or make a big deal of it until absolutely necessary. But my fears screamed at my impulse to run.

“I used to work with him at the resale shop.”

The stranger’s eyes flashed back to mine. “I remember you.”

Oh shit . Did I know this man? I tried to match his face to the two years I lived here, but came up blank. I very cautiously said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you.”

He smiled again and held out a hand. “Name’s Romeo.”

I bet it was. “Nice to meet you.” I shook his hand and slipped out of the grasp before it could linger too long. “Is George still around?” My heart picked up, predicting an answer I didn’t want to hear.

Romeo shook his head. “Died. Shot in his home about a month ago.”

Zoe sucked in her breath. “Mom?”

Since I’d already braced for the worst, I had no external reaction. But inside, it felt like someone sucker-punched me and pulled the rug out from under me. I truly had no where to go now.

Except there.

I squashed down the insidious whisper. That wasn’t an option. “Who shot him?”

Romeo motioned for me to come closer. I did, but the shuffled step and lean forward proved to me I wasn’t a brave person.

He whispered, “Your biker friends did it.”

“I’m not friends with bikers.”

His eyes dipped to Zoe. “Where’d she come from then? George said a biker picked you up from that place he dumped you at.”

George had a big mouth. Had being an important word that slapped me upside the head. “Sixteen-plus years, Romeo.”

His smile cocked sideways. “You looking for a new sugar daddy?”

It took everything I had to not scream or lash out. “I never was looking for one. I won’t start now.”

His face softened. “Had to try. George took a shine on you, you know that?”

Apparently, I’d missed that. “We were just friends.”

Romeo frowned. He bent over, pulled up his pant leg, and pointed at a puckered scar that twisted his calf muscle into a knotted depression. “I took a bullet for you. Least you could do is say thank you.”

“Thank you.” I meant it sincerely and as a punctuation point to this whole conversation.

“Your food’s ready.” The girl at the counter held the bag I’d ordered. I took it, left a cash tip in the jar by the register, and collected Zoe under one arm before addressing Romeo.

“You and George saved my life. I do appreciate that. Thank you again. I won’t burden you any further.”

“We could work out a deal.” Again, his eyes raked down my body and back again. His eyes drifted to Zoe.

I didn’t answer him. I tugged on Zoe and walked away. Something I should have done a long ass time ago. Like before Dad saddled me with Shock.

Every eye in the place followed our departure, and I’m certain more than one person noted the plates attached to my little Honda.

But that detail didn’t matter. They were stolen.

I’d parked in a busy Walmart and taken them in broad daylight.

Sure, there were security cameras and customers walking to and from the store.

But no one questioned a woman and her teenage daughter as I swapped out the plate holder I’d purchased cheap.

Jackson taught me that trick. One of many I’d used to get away this time. But now, I was out of ideas.

I pulled off the highway in Wilmington, knowing it was the last opportunity to turn back. The car ticked as Zoe and I sat in silence.

“We should go to a library,” Zoe suggested.

“What?”

“Free internet. I think they ask for an ID, but I can show them mine.”

What was she up to? I turned to figure out what she was plotting. “And what would we use the internet for?”

She ticked off her list on her fingers. “First leave a message for John, if he’s alive. Second, try the store’s email to contact Crystal and let her know we’re okay, but not leave a trace. Third, download some maps and figure out where to go.”

Great ideas. I mulled them over. Contacting Crystal was not a good idea. John likely had ways to avoid his email being hijacked, but Crystal didn’t.

“Or, we could find out if my dad is still alive and go to him.” She side-eyed me as she spoke.

“I regret ever telling you about him.”

“I don’t. I want to at least know if he’s alive. Everyone else seems to die around you.”

Her tone was bitter. I didn’t blame her. Two days ago, I tried to contact John through his district office. They informed me he’d been shot and was in critical condition. Unfortunately, I’d had the cheap prepaid phone on speaker, so Zoe heard. “John isn’t dead.”

“That you know of. We could find that out, too.”

The sigh that leaked out of me was angry. “Fine.”

“And you could let me do some of the driving so you’re not so tired all the time.”

“No.”

The glare she shot me clearly had that tone. The one that screamed, “Maaawmn.”

“Not until we’re away from the congestion.” I indicated the miles of paved streets and highways and people. Too many strangers everywhere I looked.

“Promise?”

As much as it terrified me, I gave in this time. “Fine. Yes, I promise, but only on the back highways and only for two hours at a time. And if I ever get the feeling you’re getting tired, I’m taking over. Got it?”

“You’ve been driving tired for almost a month now,” she shot back.

I had, but that was beside the point. I was the one responsible for this mess, and I intended to shoulder the burden alone.

And after finding out George was gone, it was truly alone.

Everybody I’d confided in was either hospitalized, missing, or dead except Crystal, who was savvy enough to keep a low profile due to her intimate experience with this type of situation.

And Jackson.

I refused to think about him. He’d told me to stay away, and I promised I would. No matter what.

Changing the subject, I asked Zoe to keep her eyes peeled for a library sign as I puttered down the business highway I’d chosen at random.

“Left, Mom.”

Shit. It was almost as if the building materialized out of nowhere. I circled the block to park in the lot.

“Okay. Hopefully, they won’t ask for my ID.”

Zoe stared at me with a scowl. “I’ve done this before, Mom.”

“What? When?”

The silent “duh” was almost audible. “Since I was six. They taught us how to use a library in school.”

“Right.” I shook the cobwebs out of my head. I needed to stay sharp to not only evade Shock, find a place for Zoe and I to hide, and keep at least a half-step ahead of my daughter, who was becoming more and more like Jackson every day. Why hadn’t I noticed that before?

She broke into my scattered thoughts. “Find a book and read, or stay out here and sleep. I’m going to print out maps.”

“To where?”

She shrugged, and there was a bite to her reply. “ I don’t know. I’ll improvise. Why not make a real road trip out of it? Find a liquor store and go full Thelma and Louise.”

That attitude was definitely inherited from her father. “They died, remember?”

“Well, we leave killing someone and getting chased by cops off the list, okay?”

I stared at her, too wiped out to process where this was coming from. “Killing someone is never a good idea.”

“Killing Shock would be,” she muttered.

Holy shit . That woke me up. “What? No. That’s a bad idea. Not only is it illegal, but we’d have the entire Destroyers nation coming after us, not just one or two clubs.”

“You need a hobby.”

“I can’t have a hobby; I’m a full-time mom to you .” That was an awful thing to say, and I opened my mouth to apologize but didn’t get the words out because Zoe laughed hard.

“Finally. Let it out, Mom. Tell me how you really feel.”

Her laughter was contagious. But her words dug in. “I love you. And I would drive a million miles to keep you safe. I’d steal; well I think we’ve proven that already. I’d lie.”

She snorted. “I’d bet you’d kill someone, wouldn’t you?”

That was questionable. “I don’t know.” But I did. I looked at her. “If it was a choice between losing you to Shock and going to prison for murder one, I’d take prison. I know I would.”

Her hand crept over the console between us. “Ditto, Mom.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want that for you.”

She squeezed my hand. “I know.” Her eyes drifted to the building. “I bet it’s air-conditioned in there, and they have a bathroom. It might even be clean.”

“Let’s find out.”

While I browsed the romance stacks, Zoe talked the librarian into helping her with her “homework.” I overheard her joke, “Even on vacation, Mom makes me work.” Of course, the librarian was more than happy to get her signed in.

I settled into a comfy chair and started reading a thin novel.

I couldn’t tell you what the title was, or the story because it quickly became background to a lucid nap.

Funny how I remember people walking around, Zoe in my peripheral quietly tapping away on the computer, and the various noises, but I dreamt of somewhere else.

A place where the tension of hiding and concealing my identity vanished, and I could check out whatever books I wanted.

Maybe even have a library of my own again.

Zoe stood over me, a stack of papers in hand. “Ready, Mom?”

Had I slept? I looked at the book in my hand. Page thirty. Man, that was pathetic. I must have fallen asleep. “I guess.”

“Keys, I’m driving.” She shook the stack of papers in hand. The colored maps had turn-by-turn directions gracing multiple pages.

“I thought your generation didn’t do paper maps.”

“Only the funky folded kind. Although, if we find any somewhere, you can teach me how to be a true pirate and do that fancy origami shit.”

“Stuff,” I corrected.

“Shit, Mom. I’m sixteen.”

I stood up and glared at her. “We’re in a library.” I pointedly shot a look at the kiddie section.

“Whatever. We be off on a bonny adventure. And I be yer capt’n.” Her pirate-ese needed work.

As I put the book back on the shelf, I realized I’d grabbed one of those kidnapped pirate princess titles. Zoe was smart enough to use my weakness against me.

God help me.