“A bag, not a fuckin’ suitcase. This ain’t a vacation,” Kicks corrected, feeling his irritation crawling up his spine. When the man didn’t budge from his spot, Kicks curled his hands into fists. “We don’t got time for this shit right now, okay? Just take what you need so we can get the fuck on the road.”
He let out a small scoff and marched to the bed, flinging the top of the suitcase open. “Trust Eliah to send such a fucking wanker…”
“What’s a wanker?” Kicks asked, watching with a narrowed eye.
The guy looked up at him, and the corners of his mouth lifted before he raised his hand and made a motion like he was jerking off. “I think you can infer it’s not a compliment.”
Kicks dragged a hand down his face with a soft groan. “Look, man, I’m doing this as a goddamn favor. It wasn’t exactly on my agenda to drive to some shithole motel and pick up some asshole stranger whose name I don’t even know.”
The man let out a soft sigh, then crossed over to Kicks and surprised the fuck out of him by extending his hand. “My name is Yehuda Burns. Pleasure to meet you.”
So stunned by the random, polite gesture, Kicks took his hand. His tongue felt oddly thick in his mouth at the feel of the man’s soft palm against his own, and he swallowed past it. He couldn’t remember the last time someone offered to shake his damn hand. “Uh, Kicks.”
“Kicks. Like Cher? Like Madonna?” Yehuda asked, and Kicks scowled.
“Fuck you, man. What the fuck kind of name is Yehuda?”
With a laugh, Yehuda dragged his hand away. “You can call me Jude if it’s easier. Most people do.” He went back to the suitcase and began to pick through it until he had a small pile of clothes and what looked like a toiletries bag.
“You know, you don’t look like a rabbi,” Kicks said as he watched him open the Publix bag and shove everything inside.
Jude looked over his shoulder and lifted a brow. “Authority on that, are you? Tell me, Kicks, what does a rabbi look like?”
“I don’t know,” Kicks said, feeling both humiliated and irritated. “Like a priest but Jewish?”
Jude’s eyes went wide, then he laughed again—this time louder, his whole body moving with it. “Bloody hell. I don’t imagine you’re particularly religious.”
Kicks ground his teeth together. He wasn’t, but he hated when people generalized him like that.
“Well, to be clear, I’m the jeans and t-shirt sort of rabbi. Especially when I’m stuck in some shithole motel on the side of the road waiting for some asshole stranger,” he slipped into a mocking American accent, “to pick me up because my brother went and got himself almost murdered.” He hooked the bag over his wrist, and in spite of his tone, he offered a smile to Kicks, which made his entire face light up. Kicks felt something entirely unfamiliar burning in his gut, and he did his best to shove it away.
Was this the shit Smokey had to deal with when he’d met the professor? This weird, gut twisting feeling that made his palms sweat?
It unnerved him, which was the last thing he needed to be when he was getting this guy out of town. Checking his phone, he saw a message from Smokey letting him know that there was a safehouse a few miles outside of the city where they could hunker down until the dead of night. He sent coordinates instead of an address, which didn’t bode well, but Kicks was pretty sure it was one of the cabins the Chains had for emergency situations like this. Out of the way, off the beaten path, and he’d be able to hear if anyone was creeping up on them.
“If you need to make any calls, better do it now,” he said. “We’re gonna lay low at another spot until it’s dark—try to get into town around one or two in the morning.”
Jude’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
Kicks’ jaw started to ache from how hard he was clenching his teeth. “Look, man, I don’t know if you got eyes on you, and I don’t know if I was fuckin’ followed all the way down here. The shit your brother saw not only put a bigger target on my club’s back, but it also put one on yours. And you might not know me or like me very much, but I know what the fuck I’m doing—and I know the best way to get us back to your brother safely. So, if you wanna see him in one piece…”
“Is that a threat?” Jude asked, his voice low and soft.
Kicks nearly laughed, mostly because if he’d been anyone else, he might actually have been scared of the guy. “It’s the truth. My Prez was already shot—and that shot was meant for your brother.”
Jude blinked, then swallowed thickly. “Is he alright?”
“Far as I know, he’s fine,” Kicks said with a wave of his hand. “And you can see for yourself as long as you fuckin’ move your ass.”
Jude pursed his lips, but he didn’t drag his feet. Instead, he zipped up the case and dragged it toward the door.
“I just told you,” Kicks started after him, then froze when Jude looked back with cold eyes.
“Yes, you’ve told me exactly what I need to know. I’m not leaving this in the room for someone to find. There’s probably a bin I can toss it in somewhere in the back.”
Kicks was expecting more fight, and he felt a little off-kilter from how easily the man had given in. Maybe he wasn’t giving these brothers enough credit—or hell, maybe he was giving them too much. But the fact that they could hit the road was enough. He still wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but if he could get him back to River Crest in one piece, he could put the whole damn trip behind him.
4
Jude had thirty long minutes on the back of the motorbike to contemplate the nature of the man he clung to. He was nothing short of petrified as he followed Kicks out of the hotel, but he hoped that his attempt at confidence was enough to fool him.
The reality was Eliah’s news had shaken him to his core. The series of phone calls that led to fleeing his apartment and finding some off the road, rent-by-the-hour motel had turned everything he’d ever known upside down. His mid-life crisis wasn’t supposed to involve his brother in hiding and fleeing for his life from invisible bikers who wanted him dead simply because he was related to Eliah.
And it most certainly was not supposed to lead to him clinging to this strange man who looked like one wrong word and he’d leave Jude to rot on the side of the road without thinking twice. His confidence—feigned or not—was the only thing keeping him together.
His heart was in his throat when Kicks turned down a long road, and part of him wondered if this was all an elaborate ruse. Maybe Eliah had spoken to him under duress. Maybe his words had been some sort of code Jude was meant to decipher to save himself. But they’d never really been good about that whole twin ESP thing, and as they got older, Jude seemed to understand his brother less and less.
So, he might be on his way to die.
Which was strangely poetic in a way.
He couldn’t help his fingers from trembling as the bike rolled to a stop in front of a dilapidated old cabin. It wasn’t very far from the main road, but the trees were thick enough to block most of the traffic sounds. He glanced around for a quick exit, and when his gaze returned to Kicks, he saw the man watching him with a raised brow and half a smirk.