The Favor (Ghosttown Riders Book 1) Read online

Cheyenne shrugged and whispered, “I don’t know.”

  “What do ya mean, you don’t know? You didn’t look?” Macy jumped up from the couch. “Where is it? Let’s open it.”

  Of course, Macy’s brain would take her to entertain her curiosity. She wasn’t the one who had witnessed the horrific accident. So much blood.

  “Chey?”

  She shook her head, trying to rid her memory of the image.

  “No, we are not opening anything.” She licked her dry lips. “Look, they probably took him to Glenview General or Blacksburg Memorial. I’m going to go to both until I find him and give it back. I already tried calling, but unless you are family, they don’t give out any info.”

  “I think we should look.”

  “No,” she snapped. He’d been so adamant about her taking it, it must have been important.

  “Let me get this straight. You are going to walk around with a package you got from a biker of a gang who gave it to a total stranger in complete desperation because he didn’t want the cops to find it. But you won’t look inside?” She whistled and raised her brows. “And they say I’m the dumb one?”

  “Macy, I…”

  “You could very well be toting around a pound of crack in your pocketbook, Chey. You know what that’ll get ya?” She cocked her brow and folded her arms. “Three squares a day and a hideous orange jumpsuit.”

  Cheyenne hadn’t given much thought about what was in the envelope. But now, having time to think, he’d been adamant about the cops not getting it. It was a red flag. What if it was drugs, and she somehow got caught with it? Would the police even believe she didn’t know what was in the envelope or that it wasn’t hers? Her stomach churned. What if they didn’t? Beads of sweat formed on her upper lip, and her skin prickled. She glanced up at Macy.

  “You think it’s drugs?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, it sure as hell isn’t a grocery list. Seriously, we have to look for your own safety.”

  She squinted at Macy. She had a point, but there was no denying Macy’s intrigue. Her concern was half safety and the other half pure nosiness. Either way, Macy was right. She had to know what she was dealing with.

  “Fine.” She walked back to her room, grabbed her bag, and headed into the living room where Macy was practically bouncing on her toes. Make that three-quarters intrigue. She grabbed the large tattered envelope, which had been folded in half. She slowly unraveled it to the opening. Oddly enough, it wasn’t sealed. She peeked inside and gasped at the contents. Nausea rolled her stomach, and a large chunk rose up her throat. Oh hell.

  “What is it? Drugs?” Macy asked in a high-pitched screech.

  It wasn’t drugs, but the sight made her stomach flip and heat rise over her skin. She swallowed hard and flicked her gaze to Macy. She could feel the blood draining from her face. Her head got light, and she swayed slightly. She tried swallowing, but her throat felt raspy and dry. This is bad.

  “Take it out.”

  She shook her head to the point of pain in her neck. There was no way she was reaching into the envelope and touching anything inside. Cheyenne blinked and tried to center her vision on something in the room. She felt dizzy and light. Holy shit, she might just pass out. She pushed the envelope into Macy’s hands and fell into the chair, which did nothing to relieve the nausea.

  “Oh, my God!” Macy shouted and quickly dropped the envelope. “It’s a finger, like a human finger off of someone’s frickin hand.”

  Yes, it was. A dirty, bloodied human finger. She took deep breaths through her nose in hopes of combatting the vomit rising from her belly. She closed her eyes, resting her head against the cushion of the chair. Inside the envelope was a finger and a wad of cash. She was so fixated on the body part, she didn’t focus on the cash, but if she had to guess, there were hundreds of dollars.

  “Chey, you okay?” She felt cold hands grasp her cheeks. The coolness had her opening her eyes, looking straight into Macy’s.

  “It’s a finger.”

  She nodded. “Yep.”

  “Maybe it’s fake.” It was a long shot, but she’d grasp at anything right now. A human finger in an envelope? It was like a scene from a movie. Things like that didn’t happen in real life. Did they?

  Macy snorted. “No, I’m pretty sure it’s real, and so are those fifties.”

  “Oh God.” She needed to think. She was in possession of a body part and more cash than she’d ever seen in her life. This was bad, so bad. “I need to call the police.” She pushed Macy’s hands away and reached for her bag, but the second she moved, her head got heavy, and she fell back against the chair.

  She licked her lips and tried once again to swallow. “I’m gonna be sick.”

  “Okay, slow down.” Macy bent, grabbed her purse, and tossed it behind her. “Chey, we need to think about what we are going to do.”

  What they were going to do? Why was that even a question?

  “What do you mean? I need to call the police and report this, Mace. It’s a fucking finger.”

  “I know. just hear me out, okay?” Macy’s tone softened.

  Cheyenne nodded, eyeing her friend.

  “Okay, if you call the police and give them the envelope, they’re gonna know you didn’t give it to them yesterday. It looks sketchy, Chey. This guy asked you to take it, and you did, concealing an obvious crime.” Macy raised her brows and held up her index finger. “Strike one. Right now, our fingerprints are all over the envelope. They could turn this on us.”

  She scrunched her eyebrows. “What? Why the hell would they?”

  Macy sighed, rolling her eyes.

  “Ghosttown Riders run this place. You don’t think they got cops in their back pocket? Come on, girl, you’re smarter than that. You’ve seen those guys riding around. You know they’re up to no good. You ever see one pulled over?” She raised her brows but didn’t wait for an answer. “No.”

  They were the local motorcycle club. Most people, like Macy, scoffed at the term “club.” Macy claimed everyone knew what they really were. Gang. Cheyenne wasn’t sold on them being full-fledged criminals like her best friend. She would randomly see them drive through town. They kept to themselves, never bothering anyone. Every year they did a charity run. Macy said it was bullshit. Cheyenne thought it was a kind gesture. They didn’t have to do it, yet they did. She had never actually come across one in person until yesterday, though she had garnered a few glances from a member or two at the bar where she was a waitress.

  “So, what are you suggesting, we just toss it in the trash and forget about it?”

  “Noooo…like I said, our prints are on it, Chey. If the cops find it, we’re screwed.”

  She dropped her head back against the cushion. This was a clusterfuck. She should have never stopped. The second the thought reached her mind she shook her head. If she hadn’t stopped, he surely would have died on that road all by himself.

  “So, what do we do?”

  Macy drew in a breath. “Give it back to him. We’ll find out where he is, go to the hospital, and return it like you planned.”

  Cheyenne shot up and cocked her head. “Knowing there’s a finger in it? This guy was probably the one to cut it off, and you want me to give it back to him.” She sighed. “I should have never stopped.”

  She folded her arms and glanced down at the floor. Liar, you saved his life by stopping. Did I? There had been so much blood, and he’d been in such bad shape when the ambulance stopped, she had to wonder if he even made it.

  “What’s done is done, but yeah, I think you should give it back.” She scooted next to her on the chair and draped her hand on her back. “I’ll go with you. We’ll just drop it off and leave. Maybe we can just leave it with the nurse or something, watch her take it into the room, and jet outta there. We don’t technically have to see him, just make sure he gets it.”

  It sounded like a solid plan. They would just leave it for him. Then she could put it all in the past.

  “Okay.” r />
  Yeah, we’ll just drop it off. She’d never have to actually see him. Not him. Mick. His bloodied face and mangled body came at her as if he were an apparition standing in front of her. The cut along his head was so deep the blood almost appeared black. Even the road seemed drenched in his blood. No matter how hard she’d try, she’d never rid her mind of the sight.

  Macy moved to get up, and Cheyenne grabbed her hand. She opened her mouth, and her lips clamped. She was losing her shit with the vision of him lying in the road. “There was so much blood, Mace.” A tear escaped from her eye. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Cheyenne sniffled. “It was horrible.” Macy immediately sat, taking Cheyenne into her arms for a tight hug. Cheyenne remained in her best friend’s embrace for quite some time. She needed it.

  “Let me get my bag. We’ll do it now and be done with it.” With a tight squeeze, she released Cheyenne and got up.

  She nodded, staring down at the envelope Macy had dropped onto the floor. Pull yourself together. So much for being a good Samaritan. She slumped down on the couch and swiped it up. This much cash and a body part?

  She sucked in a breath just as she heard the knock. She whipped her head toward the door, and Macy appeared from the small kitchen.

  “Who is it?” she mouthed.

  Cheyenne’s eyes widened, and she shrugged, holding tight to the breath she had just gasped. She watched Macy inch near the door, but her stare was on Cheyenne. They were overreacting. Someone knocking on their door was not unheard of.

  “Yeah?” Macy shouted.

  “I’m looking for Cheyenne Wilcox.”

  Her back straightened. Oh shit.

  “Who’s asking?”

  “Detective Ross from the Blacksburg PD.”

  Macy gasped, and her mouth dropped open. Cheyenne shot up from the couch and immediately dropped her gaze to the envelope. Macy shook her head and mouthed again. “Hide it.”

  “Where?” she whispered in complete panic mode.

  “I don’t know.” They both frantically looked around the room until the detective knocked again. Macy pointed to the couch. “Under the cushion.”

  Cheyenne followed her instructions and patted the cushion down before standing back up.

  “Yeah, um, what do you need? Chey already talked to the cops.”

  A soft masculine chuckle echoed past the door. “This is extremely awkward. Would you mind opening up?”

  Cheyenne nodded, and Macy unlatched the door and stepped back as she opened it. The detective stood in the doorway, taking up most of the space.

  “Hello.” His smile reminded her of a cop on TV, welcoming but suspicious. Of course he was suspicious. Everything they’d just done screamed they were hiding something.

  Macy grinned and reached out her hand. “Hi, I’m Macy.”

  “Pleasure, Macy.” His gaze shifted, and his smile grew. “You must be Cheyenne?”

  Cheyenne nodded and took the hand he offered. She pulled back and wiped her hand on her jeans. Her palms were so sweaty there was no way he would miss it.

  “I’m sorry to bother you. I just have a few more questions about the accident, if you don’t mind?”

  She squirmed where she stood. “Sure, but, um, I told the officer at the scene everything.”

  He nodded and pulled out a Blackberry. “Yeah, I got the info, and I appreciate you giving us everything. But the driver of the car? You didn’t see him?”

  She had been honest when she’d been questioned at the scene. With everything going on, and all the police and ambulance, her mind was shady to details. She couldn’t remember the man. It wasn’t until now his face appeared in her head. It was a grainy resemblance, one she might not be able to describe, but if he stood in front of her, she’d be able to pick him out.

  “Not really.”

  He eyed her and tilted his head. “What do you mean? Did you catch a glimpse of him, maybe?”

  “Umm…” She lifted her gaze to Macy, who stood behind the detective. She shook her head. They must not have been flying under the radar because the detective immediately glanced over his shoulder.

  Macy smiled and shook her head and swatted the air in front of her face. “Damn fruit flies.”

  His stare stayed on her for a second before returning to Cheyenne. “Anything you can give me on the driver would be helpful.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t get a good look. It all happened so fast, ya know.”

  He eyed her and nodded slowly. She got the distinct feeling he wasn’t completely buying her explanation. He pulled a card from his pocket and then handed it to her. “If you think of anything, no matter how small, please give me a call.”

  She snatched it from his hand. “I will.” She followed him as he made his way to the door. “Um, what hospital is the man on the bike at?”

  He turned around and furrowed his brows. “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Just thought I’d send him flowers or something.”

  His gaze shifted from Cheyenne to Macy and landed back on her. His back straightened, and he drew in a breath. “He died on the way to the hospital.”

  “What?” she whispered. He’d been in bad shape when they’d loaded him into the ambulance, but according to the EMT, he was still breathing. Tears threatened over the rim of her eyes. She’d never watched someone die. She sniffled and wiped her cheeks. It was silly to cry for a man she didn’t know, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Cheyenne?”

  She glanced up and quickly wiped her cheeks with her sleeves. Her bottom lip trembled.

  His eyes softened. “It was good of you to stop. You helped him.”

  She nodded as her tears streamed down her cheeks. “He died.”

  “Yeah. But he didn’t die alone.”

  No, he didn’t.

  She tried to smile, and the detective held his stare on her. “Think of anything, call me.” He closed the door behind him, and she was left staring back at Macy.

  She wiped her eyes again and laughed without humor. “I don’t know why I’m crying, this is stupid.”

  Macy grabbed her hand and held it to her chest. “No, it’s not.” She pulled her in for a hug, and Cheyenne embraced her tightly. She knew nothing of this man, except for his name, the envelope, and he must have had a woman named Meg, but her heart broke anyway.

  Macy walked her to the couch and pulled her down, and sat next to her.

  “Why were you shaking your head when he asked about the driver?”

  Macy rubbed her back. “I don’t know. I just had this feeling, like if you gave a description and the guy found out, he’d come for you. It’s stupid. I guess I just got freaked out. I mean, you said yourself, the car seemed to be aiming for the motorcycle, and then the driver just takes off? It doesn’t sound like an accident to me.”

  The thought hadn’t even occurred to her until now. What if the driver got a good look at her or her car? It may have been far-fetched, but this was obviously intentional, and with all murders, witnesses were the downfall.

  “I’m a witness.” She drew in a breath. “God, I didn’t even think about that.”

  “This whole thing is crazy, Chey, but there’s no reason to freak out, right? I mean, what are the chances the guy even saw you?”

  She had a point. It all happened so fast, and the driver never looked over at her.

  “Now what do I do?”

  Macy hugged her against her side, and they fell against the cushions. What the hell was she supposed to do now? The cops knew her name. What if the driver found out and came looking for her? Oh hell…

  ****

  Trax pulled up in front of the clubhouse. He usually parked in back with the others, but the police cruiser in the spot out front left no time. He pulled up next to it, immediately turning off the engine, climbed off his bike, and headed inside. It wasn’t unusual for the police to pay them a visit. But he knew exactly which cop car it was, and he was eager to get inside and hear what information he had for them.


  Mick’s death had hit the whole club hard, but for Trax, it was different. Mick had been his mentor, his sponsor into the Ghosttown Riders. Losing him was like losing a father, a man he respected and looked up to. The loss ripped him in ways he didn’t know were possible.

  When he’d gotten the call yesterday, he’d spent the twenty-minute ride to the clubhouse in denial. It had to be some fucked up joke, or at the very least a mistake. It was neither. Mick was gone, his old lady, Meg, was now a widow, and the club was forever changed.

  It wasn’t the first time a member had died or been killed. In his nine years as a brother, he’d been to plenty of funerals, but never an intentional death. The grief and rage the whole club was feeling was a deadly combination.

  He made his way down the hall in long strides. The somber mood in the club took a backseat to the anger streaming through each member. This would be handled internally by them, but with it being in the public, they’d have to break one of their biggest rules. They had to speak to the cops.

  Trax took in the scene playing out in front of him. There were several brothers at the bar, but no one was partying. Trax made his way into the room slowly, taking it all in. Kase was facing off with the lead detective.

  “I want her fucking name.”

  Trax rounded the side and stood next to Rourke.

  The detective glanced over as Trax folded his arms and stared back. Carter Ross was considered a friend to the club. Officially, for outside purposes, they were enemies, but in truth, he and Kase, along with the club VP, Saint, had known each other for years. Carter helped out when he could, and the club returned the favor. Although it seemed this time, Carter was not lending a hand.

  He lifted his chin in greeting and then turned back to Kase. “She didn’t see anything. Trust me, Kase, this girl gave us everything she knew. We got a few leads we’re looking into, but you won’t get much from her anyway. She never saw the driver.”

  Kase’s face hardened. “I wanna hear it from her myself. What’s her name?”

  Carter shook his head. “Can’t do it.”

  Kase’s back went rigid, which put all the men on high alert. They’d be forced to jump in if things went south during this meeting. Having a brawl with the local cops would bring on too much heat for the club. It was bad enough they were on the radar with Mick’s death.