Squatch (Rolling Thunder MC Birmingham Book 4) Read online

  “Those thin gloves can sometimes leave enough of a print LEO can grab it, if the crime techs are good. Leave them on and put these thicker ones over the top.” I put a pair on as well, and then pulled a garbage bag from the box. “Assuming rigor hasn’t set, we’ll fold them in half. Ass goes in first, and then we can pull your garbage bags out.”

  I reached for the IDs and called the control room with the app. “I need to know what kind of car these guys drive. Kitty and I can handle it without help. Just need to know which car to use to take out the trash.” I read off the names, date of births, and address.

  “She okay?”

  “Yes.” He’d been asking about her physical and mental condition, and we both knew it. The answer to both was that she was more than okay.

  Three minutes later, he told me, “Black Tacoma, 2001. Grey Pathfinder, 2016.”

  “Thanks.”

  I disconnected, walked to the front window, and looked out. “Does the dad have keys on him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Nissan?”

  She dug them out of his pocket. “Yeah.”

  “Unlock it.”

  The lights blinked. Bingo.

  “Put the IDs back in their wallets, and the wallets back where you found them. Keep any cash, leave the credit cards alone. We want to make this look amateur and not professional.”

  I picked up a garbage bag and stood. “We’ll put the bodies in the van. You’ll drive the van, we’ll dispose of the bodies near their house, and then I’ll drive the Pathfinder...” I ran through the possibilities in my head. There was a chop shop east of town I could take it to, but could I stay away from traffic cams to get it there? I didn’t think so.

  “Fuck. I don’t know. I guess we drop it in the hood with the keys on the dash and hope someone steals it. I’ll consider our options while we dump the bodies.” I ran my hand over my beard. “Please tell me you have an electric trimmer. I need to get rid of this before we get started.”

  Kitty

  The van wasn’t far from my front door, so it wasn’t far to take the bodies. Squatch carried the taller man, I carried the shorter. Both men were balled up into quadruple-bagged garbage bags, so they didn’t look like dead bodies. And Squatch and I are both stronger-than-human, so no human would’ve guessed we were carrying people in those bags, since we didn’t look as if they were terribly heavy. I’m sure an analyst would’ve known it by the way the bags hung, but I don’t think a regular person would notice.

  I also figured I was overthinking it, but I was scared as fuck. No way would I allow myself to be taken into custody — even if it meant letting them kill me. I’d rather be dead than caged again.

  Once we had the bodies loaded into the van, Squatch had me take my phone out of the sleeve and leave it on my bedside table.

  He’d already shaved his head and face with the trimmer, so his hair and beard were about a quarter of an inch long. Now, he pulled something from his pocket, took his ballcap off and hooked it over his pinkie finger, put a flesh-colored knit cap on, and put the ballcap back on. He looked bald under the cap. Without his long hair and scruffy beard, even I wouldn’t have recognized him, just looking into a vehicle.

  Standing before me though, I’d have recognized him with a paper bag over his head. His body, his size, his stance, his confidence. That, I’d have recognized anywhere.

  We didn’t speak again until we were outside my apartment. He got me situated in the van, put a baseball hat on my head, tucked my ponytail into my shirt, and kissed me on the nose.

  “The hoodie up will draw attention. Leave it off. Don’t look sideways at other cars. No eye contact. No singing. No picking your nose. Look bored. Drive like you have all the time in the world. Stay in the same lane. Don’t pass people. Don’t speed. Don’t do anything memorable.”

  He climbed into the back of the van. “You’ll be driving it out of the parking lot again when we return to get their Pathfinder, so it’s best you drive it now, too. Pull out onto the main road and make a right turn.”

  He had me drive one road past where we’d have turned off to go to the men’s house. It was rough-paved, and there weren’t many houses. He reached forward and touched under the dash, and the headlights turned off. My tiger’s vision took over, but a warning would’ve been nice. Several minutes later, we were on a long straightaway without houses when he said, “Stop. Don’t pull over. Just stop where you are.”

  I did so, and he touched my leg, just above my knee. “Put it in park. Don’t shut the engine off. I need you to help me get these guys into the woods. You’re doing good, Kitty. Stay on the pavement. Be conscious of not leaving footprints.”

  He took a two-by-six piece of lumber from the side of the van, put it on the ground, and then grabbed another and carried it while he walked to the end of the first. He put it down at an angle, going into the woods, and walked along them to return.

  “This keeps me from leaving footprints in the mud. When I leave with the first man, bring the second to the end of the first board. Stay on the wood so you don’t leave footprints either.”

  Squatch alley-ooped both men a good distance into the trees, and then he had me get back into the van. He broke the two-by-sixes into multiple pieces and put them into another garbage bag, placed it in the back of the van, and then he returned to the passenger seat, his gloves muddy from handling the wood. He’d left his door open, so he didn’t have to get it muddy to open it. He took the soiled gloves off, dropped them into a bag at his feet, closed the door, pulled two more gloves from the glove compartment, and put them on.

  “You’ve done this before.”

  He grinned. “No. Never. Keep driving. Turn around just before the curve up there. Don’t go off the pavement.”

  The van had a tighter turning radius than I expected. I had to back up once to keep it on the pavement, but only because it was a narrow road. He flipped the lights back on at about the same place he’d turned them off.

  “Back to your apartment. I’ll drive the Pathfinder, since I can be more certain of not shedding stray hair. I’m leaving my burner phone with you. If we run into problems, I’ll abandon the Pathfinder and run to the left of wherever we are. Go around me — keep going and then come back another route and look for me to the left of wherever I exited the vehicle. If you can’t do that without drawing attention, use the app on the phone to call the control room. Tell them where I abandoned the Pathfinder. Say it like that.”

  He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “It’s going to be fine. Keep your head down and forward. Don’t look up or around. I’ll keep us away from traffic cams, but we’re going to go by a few private security cams. Prop your left elbow on the door and touch your face with your left hand. Drive with your right. Look tired and bored. Keep the bill of the hat down over your face as much as possible. Don’t follow too close. Half a football field or more.”

  “What happens to the bag?”

  “The bag holds what gets destroyed. We’ll add to it later — the gloves we’re wearing, the garbage bags you originally used, and our clothes, in case we got some of their DNA on them. Also, the wood pieces in the other bag. Shoes, too. We have a small incinerator at the bike shop. That’ll be our last stop before I take you home with me.” He sat back. “Thankfully, the men left their cellphones at home, this would be a helluva lot more complicated if they’d brought them.”

  “I want to go home when we finish.”

  “I’m sure you do, but this van will have already come and gone twice. A third time is pushing it. If you absolutely need something from your apartment, I’ll get one of my brothers to stop and get your phone and whatever you need while we do this. It’s best if we can leave your apartment alone though. Every piece of traffic is a chance a neighbor remembers something odd.”

  “How will they get in without a key?”

  He gave me a deadpan look, and I rolled my eyes. Stupid question. Locks only stop people who don’t break the law.

  “Right,
and I can’t go in and get my phone now because it’s kind of an alibi, turned on and sitting in my apartment while... other things happen.”

  “Drive to the apartments on the other side of your building. I’ll walk through to get to their vehicle. Circle around and fall in behind me after I pull out. I’m headed towards Druid Hills. Probably one of the apartment buildings on 19th, but I’ll have to make a decision once I’m there.” He took a breath and met my gaze. “Worst case scenario is you getting caught driving this van with the IDs in it, and the wood with the mud that’ll match the dump site. If you get pulled over, get out and run. Take the phone. Get at least two miles away and let the control room know where you are. If you have to go kitty to get away, so be it. If you can carry the phone in your mouth, do. If not, destroy it. If you have to go cat, keep to the shadows and run a few miles away before turning back to human. Steal some clothes if you can. Head to the nearest yellow or green gas station and hide behind it. We’ll find you by scent. Oh, unless you’re near one of our properties, in which case just show up, wave to the camera until the light acknowledges you’ve been seen, and then hide until we arrive.”

  Shifting into animal form around humans would bring the Concilio, who would also lock me away. Or worse. That was never going to happen, but I didn’t bother telling him. If I couldn’t get away, I’d find a way to get the cops to kill me.

  Chapter Three

  Squatch

  I was scaring the fuck out of her with my instructions, but it couldn’t be helped. Still, I felt the need to try to soothe her.

  “I don’t foresee any problems, kitty-cat. Follow me at a distance. Pick me up about a half mile past where I drop the Pathfinder off. Just watch the odometer and keep driving, and then pull over at the first good spot after you hit the half mile mark — or just before it, if you know there won’t be another opportunity for a while. Kill the lights and engine. Make sure the driver’s door is unlocked. Take the keys with you to the back, have a seat, and wait for me. When I get in, toss the keys so they land in the passenger seat, and stay in the back out of sight. Two people in baseball caps look suspicious.”

  I gave her another kiss on the cheek. “It’s going to be fine. We dump the Pathfinder and go to my place. One of my brothers will incinerate the bags and clean the van.” Inside and out, but she didn’t need the details. I touched under her chin. “Emotion is something you can’t afford just yet. Let the tiger come forward a little more. Focus on your surroundings. There’ll be plenty of time for the luxury of emotions later.”

  She pulled a breath in, blew it out, and nodded. Her scent evened out. The cat was stronger, the woman there, but no longer terrified.

  “Sorry. I’m good,” she told me, and her brown eyes told me she could do this. For the first time, I realized she wore contacts. Cat shifters shouldn’t need contacts, but I couldn’t dwell on it just then. I needed to focus on finishing this without attracting attention.

  “Follow at a distance,” she continued, “drive past where you stop, and wait. Escape if I have to. Yellow or green gas station. Hide. The MC will find me.”

  “Good enough.” I started to leave, but I had to give a final reminder. “Hand to your face. Bill of the cap down. Bored. Tired. Not hiding.”

  “Stealth. The tiger’s good at that. Let’s go already.”

  I grinned, double-checked to make sure the knit cap covered me below the hairline, pushed the door in until the automated system caught and closed it quietly, and made my way to the Pathfinder.

  Besides having no textiles inside, the van has no interior lights, it has a switch to turn off all exterior lights, and it has an add-on so the doors close automatically without making a sound. It’s one of the most popular models, so it doesn’t stand out. This makes it the perfect vehicle for doing illegal things, but it also means the driver is always suspected of doing something illegal when pulled over. Officially, we use it as a chase van. The sweetbutts follow the bikes in it on road trips, and we keep a ton of bike parts and tools organized in the back. If we’re camping, then that equipment is kept in the back, too.

  I needed to stay on point while I drove across town — aware of security cameras so I could look away, conscious of staying away from traffic cams, which meant taking lesser used roads. In the back of my mind, I kept wondering why Kitty had called me instead of Bobcat or Mad Dog. Did she trust me more? Did I dare hope?

  I parked the Pathfinder in a parking space to the side of a cheap, rundown apartment building smack dab in the middle of gang territory, put the keyring on the dash, and walked away from the vehicle with my hands in my pockets. Kitty’s apartment hadn’t been the first these guys had robbed tonight, because there was already a large flat-screen television, a laptop, and a gaming console in the back.

  My gaze stayed on my feet, my hearing fine-tuned to make sure no one came close to me. Also, to make sure I didn’t hear someone racking a gun, or flipping the safety off. I walked to the narrow band of trees behind the apartments, followed them until I was behind neighboring apartments, walked towards the street, and saw the van parked up the road. Perfect.

  Thankfully, I had no issues driving to the bike shop. A bay door pulled up as we pulled onto the lot. I killed the lights on the van, drove in, and the door closed behind me. No lights were on in the shop.

  “Any problems?” Gears asked.

  “No. Two bags for the incinerator, plus our clothes, and a full clean on the van. Inside and out.”

  “I have two generic helmets on a client’s bike just outside the door. Ride it to the clubhouse, and someone will bring it back in a few hours. Helmets stay on until you’re inside. We’ll get Kitty home tomorrow without anyone knowing she was here. I need the burner you used. It gets incinerated too.”

  I’d put it into a signal blocking sleeve before we left Kitty’s apartment. The GPS was disabled on it, but it could still be triangulated down to about a mile using cell towers.

  I walked to the back of the van with the bag from the passenger floorboard, sat beside Kitty, put the bag on the floor between us, and started disrobing, shirt first, which went straight into the bag. “Clothes and shoes go in the bag before you exit the van. We’ll walk straight to the showers, get clean, put sweats on, and then ride to the clubhouse. You’ll have to see my apartment another time.”

  She sighed, but pulled her clothes off without arguing.

  And I had to work hard to keep from sporting a hard-on. I see her damned-near naked all the fucking time, but it took everything in me to keep from letting her know how badly I wanted to sink into her.

  But then I breathed in and caught a whiff of longing from her. Not lust. Longing. She wanted comforting. It was only there a second, and then I scented the tiger. That was fine. I was happy she could hide behind the animal when she needed to.

  I stepped out of the van, completely nude, and lifted her into my arms.

  “I can walk.”

  “I’m aware. I’m also sure you can shower by yourself, but I don’t intend to let you do that either.”

  The bike shop has a large, communal shower in a locker room. The building was repurposed from a giant workout club, and we chose to keep one of the locker rooms intact. The other had been turned into a bike-wash room.

  Kitty

  I figured he’d turn the shower into sex, but he didn’t. He washed my hair. He washed my feet. He washed everything in between, but he didn’t focus on anything sexual. He just washed me.

  I started crying when he conditioned my hair, and he pulled me to him and held me. “Crying is good, after the night you’ve had. You held it together and did what was necessary. I’m so proud of you.” His baritone voice rumbled and vibrated through my entire body. It always did, but naked in the shower with the water all around us, it felt intimate more than sexual.

  My tears came harder, and harder, until I needed to blow my nose. He didn’t hurry me or rush me. He just held me. Eventually, he rinsed the conditioner from my hair, turned the water
off, and sat on a dressing bench with me in his lap.

  Squatch is huge. I’ve never asked him how big he is. If I had to guess, I’d say 6’7” and around three hundred pounds, but he isn’t fat. His nickname is short for Sasquatch. His hair is long, and before he shaved it off in my apartment, his beard was trimmed but still a touch scraggly. Most nights his hair is in a ponytail or under a little knit cap, but when it isn’t, you can easily see how he got his name. I’m 5’7”, so I’m not exactly small, but I feel tiny around him. After not feeling safe all night, in this moment, I knew nothing would hurt me.

  When my tears finally slowed, I turned in his lap and wrapped my legs around him. He held me tight, chest to chest, but lifted my pussy up, away from his dick, which hadn’t grown hard.

  I touched his face. All sharp angles and gorgeous, usually hidden beneath the beard. I wanted to kiss the jawline I’d never seen before, but I didn’t dare while he seemed to be pushing me away.

  “You don’t want me?”

  “Not like this.” He lifted me and settled me back down on his lap, so I was sitting sideways and not on his dick. “You don’t owe me sex for taking care of you, and I’m not up to paying for it tonight. I want to hold you and take care of you. Everyone falls apart after their first kill.”

  I shook my head. “I killed people during the battles. Or rather, Celrau and demons, I guess, and not humans, but still, I killed other human-shaped beings.”

  “That was war. Kill or be killed. Still something you have to deal with, but these people came into the sanctity of your home. They had to know a single female lived there. We know there have been home invasions with a rape element in the area, with two men. In some cases, things were stolen, but not all. There’s a good chance they were planning to rape you, once they had your electronics packed up and ready to go.”

  “They wore gloves, so their fingerprints won’t be in my house, but their DNA will be. I should go home and clean. If they told someone which apartment they were going to hit, the cops might come looking.”