Free Packing Double: A Bedlam Butchers MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 5) by Ruby Dixon Page B

owners, and so, when I hear the bikes roar away a few minutes later, I call her back and give her the address so she can come and get me for my shift.
    • • •
    Joleen’s looking more haggard and tired than usual when I see her. She pulls up to the ranch in her Ford Focus, which tells me that her old bike is probably on the fritz again and she still can’t afford a new one. I’m glad to see her car, though. Riding behind someone feels like something special that I share with Gem and Dom. I climb in the passenger seat wearing my Chrome t-shirt and jeans, and a pair of sneakers. I’m not dolling up tonight, not if there’s no one important to see me. Everyone important is on snitch business.
    She lights up a cigarette next to me and I crack my window so I won’t have to smell it. Much. “You look tired,” I comment, and notice her hands are shaking as she smokes.
    “Been a rough week,” she tells me, but doesn’t look in my direction. As soon as I buckle up, she pulls out of the driveway and tears down the road, heading for the highway.
    “Because it’s been busy?” I ask, making conversation.
    “Among other things,” she tells me. “Lots of club activity in the area, so we’re getting lots of people stopping in other than just regulars.”
    “That’s good for business.”
    “Yeah,” she says. Then she looks over at me. “I got myself a man, too.”
    I brighten, because Joleen’s always on the lookout for Mr. Right, as long as he comes in a leather jacket and rides a Harley. “Oh? This is new.”
    “Been seeing him for about two months, actually,” she tells me.
    I’m surprised, because Joleen hasn’t said a thing to me, and I tell her that.
    “We were trying to keep things on the down-low, but I don’t suppose it matters now,” she says, and takes another shaky drag of her cigarette. Her lined mouth is pursed hard.
    “Why is that?” I ask, even as I realize we’re going west on the highway instead of east, toward Chrome. “I think you missed your turn, Jo.”
    “I just want you to know, Tamra, honey,” she says, grimly staring ahead. “It’s not personal.”
    I blink. “What’s not personal? Where are we going?”
    “I like you. I really do,” she says. “But my new man is calling the shots, and he doesn’t like the Butchers much. Says that since I know their new piece of tail, it’s my job to bring you in for them to say hello. More than that, it’s a way to get back at the Butchers. So I’m sorry that it has to be you, but if that’s the way things have to be, that’s the way it is.”
    I stare at her, a cold feeling in my gut. “Where are you taking me?” My voice is barely above a whisper. I eye the speedometer, and then the highway zipping past outside. Joleen’s going seventy-five, which makes me a prisoner in the car. If I try to jump out, I’ll kill myself. I need to think. “Joleen?”
    “I’m taking you to meet my new man.”
    “What’s his club?”
    Her smile is thin. “The Eighty-Eight Henchman.”
    • • •
    We drive for an hour in the wrong direction. In fact, we’re heading into the middle of nowhere, and I’m starting to get scared. Okay, scratch that. I’m really fucking scared, but the more endless highway with nothing but cactus and rock around us, the more scared I get. Joleen’s smoked an entire pack of cigarettes in a half hour, so I know she’s nervous as fuck. That makes two of us.
    I tried to pull out my phone at one point, thinking Joleen was distracted, but her reflexes are sharp with agitation. She wrestled it from my hand and tossed it out the window before I could do anything but slap at her.
    I’m well and truly trapped. I’m basically only waiting for the car to slow down so I can unhitch my belt-buckle and make a run for it. I won’t get far, but I have to try.
    I’m filled with hurt and outrage that Joleen would sell me out. I thought she was a mother-figure to me. That she had my back. That she cared about me. Seems