Free Wreck Me: Steel Talons MC by Evelyn Glass Page B

father? And on top of that, she still hadn’t heard from Jim. At this moment, she hated him. She hated him because he made her want to like him, even though she knew better, and she couldn’t reconcile that desire to like him with him not being considerate enough to call her back. He was a selfish bastard, and they were going to have to iron out a few things for sure, if they were even going to just keep having sex. She sure as hell wasn’t going to make friends with him.
     
    “I knew when we got there,” she muttered, returning to the current subject. “I knew she wouldn’t make it. I was so certain I probably missed something…”
     
    “Stop it, Susan. You did your job the best you could,” Eric chastised her, his tone sharp. “Now, I don’t smoke, but I think I want a cigarette. I think it would help soothe both our nerves if we bummed one from someone.”
     
    The idea of smoke brought back the smell of Jim, and she wanted to bang her head against the wall, not because the thought of him bothered her, but because it comforted her. “Yes, I think a cigarette might help.”
     

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
     
    In a foul mood, Jim led his caravan back into the compound, revving the engine of Ari’s ride before turning it off and lighting up. He swung off the machine and headed around the back of the club, needing separation before he clocked one of his guys and got into trouble.
     
    The run had not gone as planned. Any minute now, a few of the Diablos Blancos they’d outrun three hours back would catch up with their asses, and heated words would be exchanged at the very least. Everything had been just fine. They’d gone in to the printing shop, shown the paper to Ernie Foswell, a forty-something geek with thick glasses and a beak of a nose, and he’d shown them prints on plain paper of ones, fives, tens, and twenties. They were perfect.
     
    Foswell’s cut was five percent, and they’d dropped half of that up front and been on their way with his reassurance that he was on board. Considering he looked like he’d never seen the kind of cash they were paying in his life, Jim trusted Ernie a little further than he would have someone who’d been in this business for a while. So they’d gotten ready to ride out.
     
    But he’d forgotten to take his pain meds, and he pulled into a gas station just outside of Salem, claiming he had to take a leak, and gone to swallow a pill. His leg already hurt, and they had a long ride ahead of them. When he came out, his guys were whispering. Jim jutted his chin toward Boxer as he lit one last cigarette before hitting the road. “What’s going on?”
     
    “In the couple of minutes you’ve been in there, three separate pairs of Diablos Blancos have ridden by, glaring at us. We need to get the fuck out of here now, before there’s blood on the road.”
     
    Jim had cursed under his breath, tossed the cigarette, and gunned the bike out of there, the others on his tail. But a six-pack of Blancos had followed them out of town. Doubling back at an exit and riding into an empty barn before the rival club had managed to find where they went, Jim had led them back to the highway double-time, and they’d barreled toward the Oregon-Washington border. From there, they would only have another hour and a half to the clubhouse, and they’d have territory on their side.
     
    But Jim wasn’t stupid. He knew they’d been followed, and he was pissed, mostly at himself. Without the damn leg injury, they probably would have made it out without notice. Sure, they would have had to deal with these guys later, but it would have given them time to prepare.
     
    On top of that, he’d forgotten to check his phone again when they’d gotten to the hotel, in too much pain to remember he had a message. He’d laid down with his leg propped up on extra pillows and taken another pain pill, asleep in minutes. He hadn’t remembered till this morning, and when he’d listened to Susan’s voicemail, he