WRECKED: CHOSEN FEW MC - BOOK TWO: OUTLAW BIKER/ALPHA ROMANCE Page 12

  She put the phone in her pocket. “Why not? Oh, and no message.”

  “In case something happens.”

  “Like what?”

  “Anything that shouldn’t happen. If the person decided to talk and they were a crank, it would be good to have evidence for the police that you were being harassed.”

  She caught the look in his face. “You have an idea what’s going on, don’t you?”

  “A theory, not an idea. It’s one I’d prefer to keep to myself for now.”

  “Okay.”

  At the sound of laughter, they both looked over at where Carly was talking with Brian. He’d been more relaxed that day and now he was actually talking to her. Her voice got a little louder. “So will you ask him?”

  Brian looked uncomfortable. “I guess. I don’t think…”

  “Ask,” she said.

  “What’s going on?” Melanie asked Greg.

  “She asked her parents if she could invite him to dinner one evening and they agreed. I guess Brian is reluctant to ask his dad. Carly thought it would be fun to have dinner and watch television together.”

  Melanie wondered if that would help. “At least he’d be socializing a bit.”

  “And her folks would be there. Willow has heard her talk about Brian and would like to meet him.”

  “Then I hope his dad will allow it.”

  “Uncle Greg!” Carly shouted. “Can both of us ride on your bike to my house if Brian’s dad will let him?”

  “Not at the same time. But I can make two trips easily enough.”

  Brian’s face lit up. “I get to ride on it?”

  “Sure thing. I’m not about to make any guest of Carly’s walk.”

  As Brian headed home, Melanie thought she noted a little spring in his step.

  “Perfect,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I was thinking that Brian might actually talk to you. He thinks a lot of you, and I know how seductive a bike ride can be.”

  He grinned. “It is? Want to go for a ride now?”

  “I think the expression I heard you use was, ‘cool your jets.’ You have to take Carly to the garage, don’t you?”

  He sighed. “Being responsible sure isn’t much fun.”

  “But it lets you feel like you have earned your fun.”

  He winked. “If it’s fun with you, I can be patient. Well, at least I can wait, even if impatiently.”

  * * *

  That night at dinner with Willow and Jake and Carly, they chatted mostly about the normal things—money problems, which were always part of life, and things in general. As she served dessert, Willow said she had some big news. “Jake’s actually been going to rehab and the physical therapist said he’s making progress.”

  “Great.”

  “She takes me,” Jake said. “I yelled at her for nagging me about it. I wanted to be stronger before I went, but it turns out I was just stalling. I needed someone doing that.”

  “He wouldn’t listen to me either,” Carly said.

  “Surprise, big brother! You have two women who care about you.”

  “I know.” He pretended to be grumpy. “And I’ve got to do what I can to get back on my feet—literally,” he said. “I don’t like the rehab much, but I need to get back to where I can do some kind of work. Being on disability sucks.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Greg laughed.

  “It does. I know that just sitting here I’m rotting away. I need to be able to get out of the house and do things.”

  “You could take us to the bike races this weekend,” Carly said, grinning. “You used to love for us to go.”

  “That takes money,” Jake said sadly. “With the ticket price and parking it adds up. I’m sorry honey, but I don’t work anymore and they don’t give me much for sitting around the house.”

  “If it wasn’t a cash flow problem, would you like to go, big brother?” Greg asked.

  “Hell yeah! I’d go in a heartbeat.”

  “Well, as it turns out Frankie owes me some money. Seeing as Carly did most of the work on his street bike, he owes her. He’s been stalling about paying up. I know he’s racing this weekend, so I’ll hit him up for three pit passes. He’ll scream about it, but he’ll be happy to not have to cough up cash right now. And since it means he’ll be on Carly’s good side, I know he won’t really mind.”

  “Get four so we can all go,” Carly said.

  Greg coughed. “I sort of have plans for this weekend,” he told her. “We can go together another time.”

  Jake looked at his plate. “Thanks, Greg.”

  “Hey, Jake. I’ll never manage to pay you back for all the big brothering you did.”

  “Didn’t do enough to keep you out of jail.”

  “Not that last time, anyway. Others though.”

  Jake laughed. “Right. There were some other times…”

  They drifted into stories of growing up, edited somewhat for Carly’s ears.

  When he left the trailer, Greg felt good. Wistful, missing old times when thing had been simpler. He hoped Jake would stick to his guns and do what it took to recover. It was a lot like his decision when he’d been sent up. He’d determined his only chance was to just do his time. He avoided trouble as much as possible and came out the other end with new scars, but able to start fresh.

  As he rode, his head clouded by thoughts, he stayed on the secondary roads, just following the twists and turns of back streets and letting the family issues evaporate. Clearing his head made room for another thing he was thinking about far too much—the very attractive and intelligent Ms. Melanie Wilford. The very hot Melanie.

  They’d had a fantastic weekend but that kind of euphoria didn’t go on forever. He wondered how people got to know each other in her world. Not that it mattered. He’d learned long ago that he didn’t function well in that world. He’d been getting lost until Jake introduced him to bikers. Instantly he’d found they were his people. He understood them.

  As he rode, his mind churning through the various permutations, he realized he had flown on autopilot to the school. He stopped and stared at the darkened building and wondered if he really stood a chance with her. She’d let him make love to her, and he was hooked. The question would be if she wanted something more, if she could even imagine a long-term relationship with an ex con, a biker. He couldn’t change who he was, and neither could she.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Donna Turnbull had been the irresistible force behind arranging a field trip to visit a beverage bottling plant across town. “It will be good for the children to see industry in action. At their age they should start thinking about the jobs or careers that interest them. A visit like this will let them see a little bit of what life is like in the workforce.”

  While convinced that Donna didn’t have a clue what life was like in the workforce, especially a factory job, and certain what they’d get would be a sanitized package tour, Melanie had to admit her point was valid. Most of the students only knew about jobs they’d read about or heard their parents talk about at home. This would be tangible. Few companies had a program for letting children see where their parents worked, and even if they did, this kind of exposure was good—it showed different kinds of workers in action.

  The plan was to take the periods right after lunch, which would get them back in time to count heads before school ended. A field trip required parental approval and Melanie was happy to see Brian arrive with his signed permission slip. “Your dad didn’t mind you going on this trip?”

  Brian smiled. “He said it was perfect.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I was so happy that he signed the paper, I didn’t even ask why it was perfect. Maybe he’ll tell me when I get home. I hope he thinks seeing things in the real world lets you know the truth.”

  “Maybe that’s it.”

  She pushed any other thoughts about Malcolm Innes out of her head. He wasn’t worth thinking about, and organizing a field trip put a
lot on her plate. She called the transportation division and an officious-sounding man reassured her that the bus was scheduled. “It will be at the school right after lunch. Please make sure that all the children are back on the bus to return by three in the afternoon, as the bus is needed for taking other children home after school.”

  “Of course. It’s a short tour of the plant—no more than half an hour.”

  “Some people do not appreciate the importance of punctuality.” He sounded like he didn’t believe her.

  “Well, some do.”

  “All right.”

  When he hung up, she got a text message and opened it. “You fucking bitch! You are responsible.”

  What the hell?

  Immediately it was clear that this was the kind of thing that Greg had been afraid was happening, what he suspected. He hadn’t wanted to alarm her in case it didn’t happen, but it was. She didn’t recognize the phone number, but the only person who would send her a message like that was Malcolm Innes. What was he up to?

  She looked at the clock. It was nearly lunch now. When they got back from the field trip she’d call the police and see if they could do anything, maybe get a restraining order against Malcolm, assuming he was responsible. They had the means to find that out.

  She went down the hall to Donna’s office. “Do you have a minute?” she asked.

  Donna was working on the computer and waved her in. “I just need to send this email. There!” She had a look of triumph on her face as she looked up at Melanie. “Are you all set for the field trip?”

  “Yes. I’ve double-checked the arrangements you made and we are good to go. But I wanted you to know about this.” She handed her phone over. Donna blanched when she read the text message.

  “Who sent this?”

  “I don’t know for certain, but I’ve been getting hang up calls from that same number. I think it came from Brian’s father. He knows I’ve been talking to Brian and probably suspects I intend to call child protective services.”

  “Were you?”

  “No. I had no reason to. But if this is from him…”

  “What will you do?”

  “When we get back I’ll contact the police and let them deal with it.”

  “Good. That seems appropriate.”

  “I thought I should warn you. Maybe you should call for extra school security right now. Just in case he tries something. Until we know what’s going on we should be cautious.”

  Donna looked flustered. “Oh, that’s a good idea. Yes. I’ll call and make sure we have extra patrols on the grounds.”

  “Fine. Then I can take the children on the trip.”

  “Maybe we should cancel the field trip.”

  “That would be a shame and possibly for nothing. Besides, he gave permission for Brian to go and I honestly think he’d never do anything to hurt his son. We should be safe.”

  “Yes,” she said, sounding brave. Melanie noticed her hand shaking as she reached for the phone. She was brave—brave and frightened.

  * * *

  The bus arrived at school right on time. The driver, Fred Jarvis, was a slight man with glasses and a cheerful smile. “We shouldn’t have any traffic problems out there,” he said.

  Mr. Affir had been assigned to be the second teacher on the trip. Melanie thought Affir was a smart man, but ill suited to being a teacher of young students. It seemed he’d be better at a junior college, as he had no patience with children behaving like children. When it came to keeping an eye on the kids, he’d be fine, but other than that, well, he accepted assignments like this one reluctantly, at best. He saw no value in field trips. The one thing he lent to the party was the stern voice of authority. On a trip like this, he’d effectively squash any sort of craziness the kids came up with. That took some of the fun out of things, but with fifteen kids to ride herd on, it could be helpful.

  So she got her giggling, shouting flock loaded. Mr. Affir sat in the back where he could keep an eye out for misbehavior. Melanie intended to sit up front with the driver. She dropped her purse on the seat and stood up, facing the kids and quieted them down. As she expected, Carly and Brian shared a seat, and Carly was staring out the window, watching a motorcycle pass in front of the school. “We’ll be visiting a plant today,” she told them. “Two things I want you to remember on this short visit. First, this is a place of business and we are guests, so you must follow any rules you are told. Second, you are representing the school and we want the community to know that you are good students and well behaved. That doesn’t mean I expect you to walk around silently with stony faces.” The students laughed, but the look on Mr. Affir’s face told her that was exactly what he expected.

  She noticed one of the students, a gawky girl named Betsy, was texting on her cell phone. She walked over and took the phone out of her hand, switched it off, and put it in her pocket. “This is a school trip and the same rules apply as in the classroom—no calls or texting. You can have this back when we return.”

  The girl started to say something, then just pouted.

  “During the plant tour, you can ask the guide questions, in fact I encourage that. Don’t all ask at once, and no shouting. Mr. Affir and I will be on the tour with you, and you need to remember that we will be watching. Anyone acting out will be called to account when we return to school.”

  She nodded at Mr. Jarvis and he started the bus. Melanie walked down the aisle to check each student. Suddenly she was aware of someone stepping into the bus.

  “Hey buddy, you can’t—” Mr. Jarvis protested and Melanie turned to see why he stopped.

  A large man in camouflage fatigues, carrying a backpack and wielding an automatic pistol loomed in the doorway. He pointed the pistol at Mr. Jarvis. “Pull out onto the street and turn into the right lane. Head up the street at the speed limit.” He reached over and closed the door behind him and, as Jarvis did as he was told, the man pointed his gun at Melanie. “Sit down, Miss Wilford. I wouldn’t want you to fall and get hurt.”

  Shocked, her heart racing, Melanie sank into an empty seat, her mind reeling. The man was Malcolm Innes.

  * * *

  As the bus clattered down a side street, Innes slipped off his backpack and rifle, putting them on the empty front seat. He looked at the driver. “You aren’t going to try and play hero, are you?”

  Jarvis stared through the windshield. “No. Not me.”

  The answer made Innes smiled, looking self satisfied. “I didn’t think so.” Holding onto a stanchion, he faced the passengers. “Now, here is what will happen… we are taking a different field trip than the one that was planned. I promise it will be educational—far more so than a trip to see some sodas being bottled.”

  “Dad, what are you doing?” The voice, Brian’s voice, came from behind her. His words were choked.

  Innes spun around, looking shocked. “What the hell are you doing here? I said you couldn’t go on this trip.” Then he turned on Melanie. “So you ignore the parent’s rights even when the law says you have to.”

  “Brian showed up with a signed permission slip this morning, Mr. Innes.”

  Brian hunched down in his seat trying to make himself look small. “I wanted to go. I forged your name.”

  “Where did you learn that?”

  “It’s in your book about surviving big brother.”

  “Shit.” Innes considered his options. “Well maybe it’s time you stepped up, Brian. You’re here and we are going to make a statement that will finally be heard. Don’t worry. Be my brave kid.”

  Under the circumstances, the fatherly concern and reassurance in his voice jarred.

  Melanie put her hand in her coat pocket and wrapped her fingers around the cell phone she’d taken from Betsy. The children were all chattering to each other, fueled by a mixture of excitement and fear and she took the chance that the noise would mask her making a call. She thought briefly of calling 911 but the police wouldn’t even know the bus had been hijacked yet; they wouldn’t m
ake any sense of her call. She could call Donna, but she wouldn’t be able to explain what was going on. The woman might panic instead of working out what to do. Only one person she knew might possibly understand.

  Hoping she was visualizing the keyboard right, she pressed the buttons for Greg’s number and hit send. For an agonizing moment nothing happened and she held her breath. Muffled by her jacket, she heard his phone ring and then the sound of his voice. Hoping it wasn’t voicemail, she faced Innes and spoke loudly. “Mr. Innes, what on earth do you think you can accomplish by kidnapping this busload of innocent children who are on a field trip?” It was about all she could sneak in without it sounding like a complete explanation of the situation. She wasn’t sure it was possible to make a paranoid person more suspicious, but it didn’t seem wise to find out.

  He came close and bent over to talk into her face. “To send a message that can’t be ignored, that’s why. I’m using the children because it’s all about them, and because people pay attention when it comes to children. I want the world to know about the way you are poisoning their minds with pro-government propaganda every single day. You take away parental responsibilities and choice to ensure their loyalty to the State.”

  That didn’t seem to be a fruitful way to take the conversation, so she changed tack. “Where are you taking us?”

  “To a place where we will be safe.”

  “Safe?”

  “From the authorities.”

  “You won’t get far. The school will know we are missing right away.”

  He laughed, “You know that isn’t true at all. No one will miss us until the end of the school day. I know because your principal thoughtfully provided that information along with the permission slips she sent home. Actually, the earliest possible alert they might have would be if the company called the school to ask where you were. Fortunately, the information sheet gave the name of the contact there, and I thought it only courteous to call him and let him know that we had a change of plans, that the field trip had to be cancelled due to an outbreak of the flu. He was quite upset and concerned, but understanding. As a result, we have plenty of time to get far away before they even know anything is wrong.”