Chasing Thunder Page 28

  He smiled through his tears as he stared down at her, applying pressure to the wound in her shoulder, almost identical to the place where Baby was shot. “I figured the only way to get you to move in with me was to keep you in traction.”

  She chuckled, sputtering a bit. “You’re mean and evil, Cooper Scoggins. It’s a wonder how I can love a jerk like you.”

  He brushed her red hair from her face. “But you do.”

  Her eyes held his. “I do.”

  While he gathered her into his arms, Detective Kelly Harris walked to the broken window. “Uh . . . guys?” he said.

  Snake lifted M.J. to her feet and they crossed the room to join him where he stood looking down at the patio below.

  It was empty.

  Dominic Isbecky was gone.

  31. PLEASE DON’T GO

  By the time the cops got there in a charge led by Richard Bennett, Dominic Isbecky was nowhere to be found. The only thing that remained was a discarded bulletproof vest, which had apparently saved him from Snake’s lethal shot.

  Worse, a search of the premises offered nothing that tied Isbecky to the Hard Candy Killer. They were unable to link him to several victims, even though he had meticulously maintained files on all the girls who had ever worked for him. It would take weeks to run a fine-tooth comb over all the evidence, but everyone still felt confident that the Hard Candy Killer case had finally been solved, particularly M.J., who had taken a beating of a lifetime to ensure just that.

  Dominic Isbecky was now a fugitive.

  Richard Bennett held a press conference for the media from the steps of the hospital. He concentrated his report on the fact that Haley Roberts had been stolen right from the Hard Candy Killer’s grasp and could now return safely home with her parents.

  “Dominic Isbecky’s resources have now been frozen,” he told them. “And we are working with federal law enforcement to apprehend him as soon as possible.”

  Reporters shouted over themselves to fire off questions. “Has he left the country?”

  Richard turned to Agent Llewellyn, who took over fielding the questions. “We’ve seized Mr. Isbecky’s assets, including his private jet, his vehicles, and his yacht, which should limit what he can do and how far he can get. He’s also been injured from a gunshot and a two-story fall. We feel confident that he is laying low with associates. When he makes his next move, we’ll be there.”

  Now that the Hard Candy Killer had a face and law enforcement was securely on his trail, Los Angeles could sleep a little easier at night. They made it clear that he wasn’t caught yet, but that he would be.

  Richard joined Snake and Kelly in the ER cubicle where M.J. was being treated for a gunshot wound and broken clavicle. “Are you okay?” he asked her.

  “Do you care?” she shot back, wincing as they wrapped her shoulder.

  “Mojo,” he muttered in an exasperated breath.

  Her eyes bore holes in him. “I told you not to call me that.” A tense moment followed before she finally confronted him. “He’s the one who shot Pops. And apparently he has a big grudge with you. What the hell is going on, Dick?”

  He sighed. “Ancient history, M.J.”

  “Not so ancient,” Snake said. “This guy was hell-bent on punishing M.J. Do you want to see the scars he left on her body?”

  “She’s okay now,” Richard said. “And he’s gone.”

  “Seriously?” Kelly interjected. “This guy tortured your daughter, and all you have to say is ‘she’s okay’?”

  “That’s enough, Detective,” Richard said in a low, firm voice.

  “Fuck you that’s enough,” Kelly snapped. “What are we supposed to do here? Just twiddle our thumbs until he rises from the dead like Dracula?”

  “It’s in the Feds’ hands now,” Richard dismissed. “Where it should be. Where it belongs.”

  Kelly was flabbergasted. M.J. watched his face as the last shred of respect he had for his boss dissipated. He brushed past him and down the hall before he said or did something that would get him fired.

  Richard turned back to M.J. Snake reached down to put his hand on her good shoulder, standing strong at her side. “We’ve got it from here, Dick,” he said. Richard hesitated only a moment before he nodded and left them alone.

  Snake glanced down at her. “When you’re right, you’re right,” he said as he sat on the side of her gurney. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you until now.”

  She shook her head. “He’s irrelevant. He always has been.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “We dig deeper. We fight harder. We don’t give up until it’s done.” She touched his bearded jaw. “We’re Wyndryders.”

  He smiled and reached forward for a kiss.

  She was a little worse for wear with all the bruises and bumps, not to mention the lacerations on her back and torso, but she wore a happy smile as she snuck in to visit Baby one last time before she returned to her life as Haley Roberts in North Carolina.

  Baby smiled at her as she took a seat in the chair next to her. “Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes traveling over her mentor’s bandages and the cuts and bruises around her face and chest.

  “Tiptop.” M.J. grinned. “You?”

  Baby giggled. “Same,” she said with confidence. She had earned her stripes at Slick. She was a victim no longer. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me,” Baby told her. “You gave me sanctuary. You gave me family. You gave me permission to be me. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  “Me, either,” M.J. said. “Since I met you, I’ve lost my shop. I’ve been shot and beaten. And I can’t turn around without some wannabe Wyndryder messing up my careful, well-thought-out plans.”

  Baby was immediately chagrined. M.J. softened and withdrew a handful of Baby’s drawings, the very ones that had helped her cultivate her plan to take down Isbecky.

  “And if they hadn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here today.” Baby’s eyes widened as she stared at her friend. M.J. offered a small but painful shrug. “I always thought I could do it all on my own. You taught me I don’t have to.” She traced the Wyndryder tattoo on her new young friend’s wrist. “My grandfather would have loved you for that. You’re one of us now. A tried and true Wyndryder for life.”

  Baby reached for a hug, which M.J. did not deny her. She did, however, leave before anyone could see her tear up about it. She had a reputation to maintain, after all.

  Haley Roberts left with her parents the last week in July, just a week before Kid’s eighteenth birthday. They had shared another kiss, and he had given her a locket that bore the Wyndryder insignia. Seven other people now wore it: the club was rising from the ashes once again. Knowing she was a part of that legacy gave her the strength she knew she’d need to face the next year and a half without her new family, especially since Dominic Isbecky was still on the loose.

  M.J. moved in with Snake and Kid while she recuperated from her injuries. It was a peaceful existence, but they all knew that she hadn’t given up her mission, not by a long shot. There were too many questions left unanswered. And she was confident she wouldn’t be content until she could gut Dominic Isbecky like a fish.

  Snake understood that. Every time he doctored her deep lacerations, he felt his hatred for that son of a bitch boil in his veins. Now that he knew he could stand by her side and still be the man he wanted to be, he was ready to march to the front line of her war as her faithful lieutenant and enforcer. When she handed him a new leather jacket, deputizing him as her second-in-command, the vice president of the Wyndryders, he was finally ready to make that commitment, both to their club and to her.

  Richard and Kelly continued to work to put the Hard Candy Killer case to rest, collaborating with Llewellyn from his office in Washington, DC. While M.J. wouldn’t speak to Richard, she made her truce with Kelly by offering him a jacket as well. He found it on his desk in his office in a plain white box. He glanced at the empty desk where Landers used to sit before
slipping into the jacket. It linked him forever with the woman he now knew that he loved but could never have. Her war was his now, for as long as she needed him to fight. And while it hurt him to see her finally embrace her place at Snake’s side, he knew he would never deny her anything. He loved her enough to let her be with another man if that was where she wanted to be, but he couldn’t bear to let her go. Not completely. Not ever.

  He was an honorary member. They knew they could call upon him if needed. Jack gave him a tattoo to seal the deal in blood and ink.

  The call came sooner rather than later. One morning in early September a body was found in Barstow, California. It was another street kid with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her genitalia had been carved out and her body left dumped beside the highway sign right at the beginning of Interstate 40, which led straight across the country to Wilmington, North Carolina.

  Kelly called Snake and M.J. into the station and delivered the grim news. Agent Llewellyn was there as well, so they understood what this new information meant. Despite everything, Dracula had risen. And he wanted everyone to know he was headed for Baby.

  M.J. turned to Llewellyn. “Are you sure it’s not some copycat?”

  He shook his head helplessly. “Too soon to know. We’ll have to closely monitor the situation. Sadly, there’s not much to know unless—or until—he strikes again. He’s playing a whole new game now.”

  A second body was found a week later in Arizona. It became clear that, copycat or not, this maniac was making his way across the country toward their vulnerable friend, whose brush with the Hard Candy Killer had made national news. Even worse, her parents capitalized on the story for their rich and powerful friends as Election Day neared. Though Stuart’s political aspirations had been sidelined, he worked as a mouthpiece for those who espoused his traditional ideals. “Who can keep our children safe?” Stuart intoned into the camera.

  The correspondence he had promised between Baby and the Wyndryders was discontinued “for her safety.” The news was delivered by Stuart’s lawyers within an hour after the second body was found.

  When dawn broke on September 14, 2012, Snake and M.J. were roused from their slumber by a rumble of bikes out front. They emerged from the house to find Mad Dog and Kid preparing their bikes for a long ride.

  Standing next to them was Detective Kelly Harris, who was now on a true sabbatical. He had a new bike to go with his new jacket, and he said nothing as he watched Snake and M.J. approach.

  Snake tried to reason with his brother. “Kid,” he began, but his brother was no longer a minor who needed to be protected. He was a man. And the girl he loved needed him.

  “Logan,” the younger Scoggins corrected. He fired up his bike. Without another word, he and Mad Dog rolled out of the driveway and onto the street.

  M.J. turned to Kelly, who gave her that irritating smirk. “Great day for a ride, huh?” He climbed aboard his bike and waited.

  After sharing a glance, M.J. and Snake put their jackets on, boarded their bikes and followed.

  The Wyndryders were rolling once again for the noblest cause of all, the cause with which all things start and end.

  For family.

  END OF BOOK ONE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Ginger Voight is a screenwriter and bestselling author with more than twenty published titles in fiction and nonfiction. Her nonfiction works cover everything from travel to politics, while her works of fiction range from romance to the paranormal, as well as dark “ripped-from-the-headlines” topics, such as those featured in her book Dirty Little Secrets.

  Ginger discovered her love for writing in the sixth grade, courtesy of a Halloween assignment. From then on, writing became a thing of solace, reflection, and security. When she found herself homeless in L.A. at the age of nineteen, she wrote her first novel in longhand on notebook paper while living out of her car.

  In 1995, after she lost her nine-day-old son, she worked through her grief by writing the story that would eventually become The Fullerton Family Saga. In 2011, she embarked on a new journey: to publish romance novels starring heroines who look like the average American woman. These “Rubenesque romances” have developed a following thanks to her bestselling Groupie series. Other titles, such as the highly-rated Fierce series, tap into the American preoccupation with reality TV, giving her contemporary stories a current, pop-culture edge.

  Ginger isn’t afraid to push the envelope with characters who are perfectly imperfect. Rich or poor, sweet or selfish, gay or straight, plus-size or svelte, her characters are beautifully flawed and three-dimensional. They populate her lavish fictional landscapes and teach us more about the real world in which we live, through their interactions with each other, and often through gut-wrenching angst. Ginger’s goal with every book is to give her readers a little bit more than they were expecting, with stories they’ll never forget.

  For more, please visit gingervoight.com. Follow Ginger on Twitter (twitter.com/gingervoight) and “like” her author page on Facebook (facebook.com/gingervoight) for all the latest news on her public appearances and new releases.