Savage would have to search the car to ensure there was nothing to lead back to them. That would take an extra minute, time they might not have. Ice cursed and slammed his fist against his thigh. If Savage was compromised because he didn’t wait and help, he would lose one of his brothers to prison. Savage wouldn’t do well in prison. He’d pick fights every day. They knew that because he’d been sent to prison to take out a threat to the government. He’d been in several weeks and had spent quite a bit of time in solitary. He had gotten into fights many times and come close to killing with his fists. It hadn’t been easy getting him out.
Ice hit his thigh again. Off to his right, across the highway, was the road that cut through the mountain. He turned off immediately to get off the main highway. The first few months they’d settled in Caspar, they’d learned every back road, even the ones that were dirt. There were so many logging roads that every part of the highway was connected somewhere. As they’d learned the ones close to Caspar, they’d begun spreading out, going farther and farther from home. They’d made certain they had escape routes set up everywhere along the highway.
He slowed his Harley, not wanting to draw attention to himself. The others would be riding after him, minus their colors, just two men riding together in the early morning hours on back roads. Bike enthusiasts did it all the time. As long as no one looked too closely, they’d be fine—if Savage had gotten away safely.
The road was mostly shadowed by trees, which meant it was wet in places and covered in pine needles in others. He maneuvered through the various “danger” zones easily and kept them moving in the general direction of Caspar.
“Stop.” Soleil put her mouth against his ear. “Stop right now, Ice.”
He tried to pat the back of her hand, but she jerked it out from under him. “Can’t do it, babe. Too dangerous.”
“Savage will have left DNA back there! They’ll arrest me as an accessory! You killed those men!” She was shouting, saying every thought crowding into the chaos of her mind.
He could feel her entire body trembling. He dropped his hand to her thigh and rubbed. “He knows what to do. He wore gloves and he’ll leave evidence behind that points elsewhere. Nothing that will jump out. Take a breath, Soleil. We’re on the way home and we’ll talk this out when we get there.”
“I want to stop. I need to breathe.”
“You’re having a panic attack.” Ice flinched inwardly. Sooner or later, the cops could find a tie between Soleil and these men. The men might have stopped and asked questions. They’d searched for her and gone to the bar in Vegas, although if Fred had talked to the cops, even his own club would turn on him. “Just breathe. We’re not stopping, and you’re going to pull yourself together.”
“You killed those men,” she repeated. “I think Savage beat that one to death. Or at least came close. You killed them.”
“They were here to kill you. If you’re dead and you haven’t filed any papers, that lawyer Winston hired can say just about anything he wants!” Ice had to shout to be heard above the pipes. Even going slow, communication was difficult. “Damn it, Soleil, pull yourself together. This is serious. All of our lives are in your hands. You’d better know you can handle it.”
She went instantly silent, too still. She also held herself stiffly, away from him. Her hands crept from around his waist to fist in his shirt at his sides. He was in a shitload of trouble with her and he probably should have handled the situation with care, but he was worried that Savage and Absinthe hadn’t gotten away cleanly.
He couldn’t call them to ask because he didn’t want his phone to have any evidence that they were out riding in this direction. His locator was off, but he knew if he called, the cell tower would be instant evidence. Soleil’s cell phone was still in the end-table drawer beside the bed. Winston had blown up her phone with his “worried” calls. He was already setting up for the cops to think she’d had a breakdown. He’d been very solicitous. Ice had told her not to answer until they knew what they were doing.
He cursed again. He had to have Absinthe file papers immediately, but after this fiasco, persuading her to use him as her lawyer, and to trust Torpedo Ink—and Ice—was not going to be easy. He couldn’t take the time to stop until they were miles from the scene, and even then, he would prefer to keep going so they couldn’t be seen at all. He would wait until they were at the clubhouse before he texted Czar and Steele to come as well so they could put a plan in place if and when the cops came sniffing around.
They kept to the back roads, moving slowly. Once, a car came along, but he heard it before it got to them, so he pulled into deeper shadows and angled the bike away from the road so the license plate couldn’t be seen easily. The moment the car was a good distance away, they were back on the road, traveling toward Caspar.
The sun had climbed into the sky by the time he made it into Caspar and their clubhouse. Soleil was off the bike without help, backing away from him, wrapping her arms around her body and looking around her as if she might make a run for it. Ice gave her a few moments to make up her mind, pretending to tinker with his bike before sliding off. He looked at her. She’d been crying. He didn’t blame her. The scene must have been shocking to her.
“Soleil.” He used his gentlest voice and held out his hand to her. “Let’s go inside. We’ll get some coffee and warm up.”
She held up her hand. “I need to think. I have to get past panic and think.”
“You can do that inside where it’s warm.” He stepped closer to her, using a very subtle glide he’d perfected when he was a boy, learning to kill. He could inch within striking distance and his prey never realized he had done so until it was too late.
Soleil looked so pale her skin was nearly translucent. Her eyes were wide with shock, giving the illusion that they were too big for her face.
She looked at the clubhouse and then around the grounds. One hand crept protectively to her throat. He wanted her to come to him for protection.
“Baby, I know you’re scared. That was a very violent and scary, fucked-up mess. It happened so fast. We were on the main highway where anyone could have come by at any moment.” He couldn’t help glancing up to the highway, not that Savage or Absinthe would come that way. Like Ice, they would use the old logging roads to make their way home.
“Just come inside with me and we’ll talk it out.” He inched closer, seeming not to move. He didn’t want her running. He wanted—even needed—her trust. He didn’t deserve it. They’d spent a month together, and most of the time he’d related to her through sex. He was afraid to talk too much to her about himself, to give too much of his life away. He should have, though. He should have done more than just have sex with her at every turn; he should have given her something solid to hold on to.