Read Online Grounds for Divorce by Helena Maeve - Free Book Online Page B

retreated back a step as the hogs arced in a straight line and stalled abruptly.
    The silence that ensued was more deafening than the growl of their engines.
    “This is police business, gentlemen,” said the deputy chief. Kayla hadn’t caught his name. She made a point of not being too chummy with the police, and this fine specimen was even more righteous than the average. “You have nothing to offer here. I suggest you—”
    “They own the club.” Kayla shrugged when he turned to glare at her. “Ask Zach.”
    “Zach’s been sedated. Seems someone did a number on his face.”
    “Told you… Did it to himself. Guy’s crazy.” And as long as Lou didn’t change her story, Kayla would keep peddling that lie until the cops believed it.
    She aborted that line of thought as Booker dismounted his bike and doffed his helmet. His brothers followed his example, movements slow, deliberate. Kayla would’ve bet money that they were armed.
    Kayla pushed up from the Mercedes. If she was going to face Booker, she’d do it standing.
    “What happened here?”
    The blood on the tarmac had dried in a crimson-black spatter. Zach’s sneakers peeked out from the rear door of an ambulance. The splash of red and blue police lights over the parking lot reflected in Booker’s shades.
    Kayla lowered the icepack from the cut on her brow. “Asshole lost his mind. Ran his face into my fist…’bout eight times.” If she said it softly enough and the police didn’t overhear, it was as if she hadn’t said it at all.
    Booker cupped her chin in a firm hand. “And that?” His tinted sunglasses mirrored the ruby weal of the laceration on her brow and the mottled bruise around it.
    “Walked into a door.” She couldn’t read Booker’s gaze behind the shades. The story would’ve been the same even if she had. The truth was not so glamorous. Zach hadn’t thrown the first punch, but he’d slapped her silly. His slurs still rang in her ears.
    “Is that who you’re with now?” he’d laughed. “That motherfucking crook?” A hand in Kayla’s hair, he’d thrown her up against the car hard enough that she’d hit her head on the windshield wipers. A smear of blood stained the glass. Her knees still ached with the force of the impact. “You know what he’s about? They run guns, blow—”
    “And you run women!”
    Zach had pressed in close then, breath hot on her cheek with the smell of liquor and pussy.
    “I’m warning you, Kayla. You start running with the Hounds and you’ll end up dead .”
    He must’ve meant it as a threat. Kayla had laughed in his face. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” The first shove had sent Zach reeling back. “I was sucking dick at truck stops when you were still learning to play with yours!” After that, there’d been no more talk of warnings. No more questions.
    Kayla could still feel each blow vibrating through her knuckles. She flexed them warily.
    Booker sighed as though defeated. No wonder. This wasn’t what he’d signed up for—an old stripper with a kid and anger management issues was a whole other ballgame. “Let’s get you to the clubhouse.”
    “I have to open the Grounds—”
    He slid an arm around her shoulders. “I’m taking you to the clubhouse. Grounds has seen enough action for one night.”
    Kayla didn’t fight the gentle pull toward the bikes. She wasn’t in the mood for loud music and drunken perverts anyway.
    “What about her?” Nolan asked, jerking his chin to where Lou sat alone.
    It took Kayla a second to understand that the question was meant for her.
    “She can come.”
    Booker whistled to get Lou’s attention. “You look like you could use a drink.”
    As eager as a puppy, Lou nodded. She took the helmet Nolan thrust into her hands.
     
    * * * *
     
    Kayla slapped the shot glass onto the table, grimacing. “Tastes like rubbing alcohol. Fuck.” Chuckles answered her down the bar. She’d been offered Advil, before the bottom shelf