Free Chasing Shadows by CJ Lyons

KC guessed the second.  Which would explain Westin's really lousy timing.
    So Chase Westin was most likely working for Gianotti.  How could she use that?  Surely even a scumbag like Westin wouldn't endanger his kid brother's life for a business deal.  Maybe she could turn Westin, barter his and Jay's safety for info on Gianotti's buyer, his future testimony?  
    No.  Better to wait until Jay was safely out of the way before exposing herself to Westin.
    She climbed the steps to her bedroom, the questions swirling in her mind.  Probably would be easier if Jay hadn't gotten so attached to her.  And if his big brother wasn't so damned attractive.  She'd always had a weakness for rugged he-man types, despite the fact that every man she'd known like that had left her disappointed in the end.  
    Just needed to get some sleep, that was all.  KC walked into the bedroom and turned on the light.
    Less than three feet in front of her, Chase Westin straddled the desk chair, watching her.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 9
     
    Lucky almost got lost on the dark and twisty roads that led through the snow-covered forests between Coalton and Mill Run, the closest town with a motel.  Hadn't these people ever heard of street lights? he wondered as he steered his Suzuki GSX 1400 over the two lane road rutted with pot holes and dark as a coal mine.  
    He made it down the mountain in one piece, skidded his bike to a stop in front of the Blue Bird Inn, thankful that at least in December he wouldn't have to worry about actually encountering any real birds, and hurried inside to the bar.  
    Deacon's people had taken over the place. The bartender and a middle-aged waitress with sagging breasts and penciled-on eyebrows were the only locals remaining.  Lucky grabbed a pitcher from the nearest table and filled a smudged mug, downed the weak beer in two gulps.  The men at the table laughed.
    "Hope you're not looking to get drunk on this stuff," Redman said, glancing up from his hand of poker.  
    "Tastes like tap water someone took a piss in," Lucky agreed.   "I can't wait until this deal's done, and we can get back to the city."
    "Amen to that, Brother Cavanaugh," Deacon said from behind Lucky.  
    Lucky's role was as a convert to The Crusade, unlike Chase whose cover was playing the middleman between Gianotti's organization and The Crusade.  
    After listening to The Crusade's rhetoric for almost two months now, Lucky had to admit there was something compelling about the idea of wiping out the mistakes of the last two hundred years.  Abolishing the bureaucracy that was suffocating the government, overhauling the tax system so that everyone shared in the profits of their labor, ending special interest groups and establishing term limits so politicians could concentrate on getting the job done rather than the next election.
    Lucky knew little more about Deacon than when he had started.  It was difficult to separate the truth from the urban legends that blossomed around the man.  Redman had told him Deacon grew up a gang-banger on the streets of LA, killed his first man before he was fourteen.   After the bombing of a LA Medi-Cal office, Deacon abandoned the gangsta lifestyle for the role of underground warrior, preparing for the Second Revolution.  And The Crusade was born. 
    For Deacon it was easy: you were either part of The Crusade, or part of the problem.  And, from what Lucky had seen so far, Deacon's solution to most problems involved lethal force.
    "We all set?" Deacon asked, gesturing Lucky to an empty booth.
    "Tomorrow, noon."
    Deacon poured Lucky a shot of Jack Daniels, then one for himself.  His knuckles still bore tattoos from his days in the Grape Street Crip gang.  He had a surprisingly soft voice, one that made you strain to catch each word.  "I hate to keep the men working over the holiday."
    Lucky looked around at the men playing pool and cards.  None of them seemed to be missing the holiday cheer.  "We