Free Iron Goddess by Dharma Kelleher Page B

dream.”
    Terrance glared at her and mouthed, “Tell them.”
    “Awesome! Send pics. I can’t wait to see them. Vicious and Nasty are excited, too.”
    “Pics? Sure, I’ll email some tomorrow.”
    “Excellent! Our publicity gal is mentioning the bikes in all the radio and Web promos. Maybe after the concert, we can take them for a test ride. You can show us the sights.” She sounded excited as only a twenty-something rock star can be.
    “Sounds like a blast,” Shea said, ignoring Terrance’s glare.
    “See you in a couple weeks.” Wicked hung up.
    “Dammit, Shea.”
    “What?” she asked, feigning innocence.
    Terrance looked ready to spit nails. “You need to tell them the bikes are gone.”
    “T, we can’t. The Trinks are already promoting the bikes. I’ll find the bikes.”
    “How?”
    “You know me. I got a gift for finding lost objects. Just last week I found Switch’s socket wrench that Derek had borrowed and not put back. And before that I located that receipt you couldn’t find. I’ll find the bikes, too.”
    “It’s not as if you misplaced the bikes in the workshop. They were stolen. If you don’t want to tell Wicked they’re gone, then I’m calling in help to build replacements.”
    “We ain’t got enough time, nor can we afford to pay someone else to build ’em. I don’t wanna give credit to another shop for bikes we already built once. That’s just wrong.”
    “Well, we need to do something.”
    She resisted the urge to say something snarky. “I don’t want to discuss this right now.”
    “Smartest thing you said all night. Go home and rest. We’ll figure this out in the morning.”
    She slapped him on the back as she walked out. “See ya.”
    —
    She found Jessica asleep on the couch, dressed in her knee-length, midnight-blue silk robe. Shea sat beside her and kissed her on the cheek. “Hey, I’m home.”
    Jessica opened her eyes, which were bloodshot and puffy. “Where were you? I called your cell, the shop, even the hospital. I was afraid you’d killed yourself on that motorcycle.” Her voice cracked as a tear ran down her cheek.
    Shea hugged her. “Sheriff’s deputies picked me up for questioning.”
    Jessica sat up. “You got arrested? For what?”
    “Not arrested. Questioned. My sister’s old man grabbed their daughter and killed the friend she was staying with. I found the body.”
    “Oh God.” She covered her mouth with her hand.
    “Right now I just want to sleep,” Shea said, touching her forehead to Jessica’s.
    “Oh honey.” Jessica kissed her. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
    They groped and kissed their way to the bedroom. Shea kicked off her boots and jeans as Jessica’s robe fell away. Jessica said something, but the cool sheets of the bed pulled Shea into the oblivion of sleep like a drug.

Chapter 13
    Shea’s phone rang a few hours later. She tried to ignore it until Jessica started shaking her. “Shea, your phone is ringing. Please, make it stop.”
    Shea picked it up. “If this is the alarm company, call the fucking cops.”
    “Shea? It’s me.” It wasn’t the alarm company. But the voice was familiar.
    Her half-asleep mind tried to put a name to the voice. “Mama?”
    “What? No, it’s Wendy.”
    She sat up and looked at the clock. It was four in the morning. “Wendy.” It took a moment to recall the previous day’s events. “You find Annie?”
    “No.” Wendy sounded like a wounded puppy. “Can you come over? I need your help.”
    Shea groaned in frustration.
How do I tell her no without being a self-centered bitch?
    “This is between you and your old man. After what happened yesterday, I think it’s best if I stay out of it. I got my own shit to deal with.” She sighed, knowing she sounded cold and selfish. “Isn’t the Sheriff’s Office looking for Annie?”
    “Buzzkill and his doughnut-eating storm troopers couldn’t find shit in a horse trailer. They don’t give a damn about anyone affiliated with the MC. I