CHAPTER THREE


Rafe glanced over her shoulder, but she never saw or felt anything behind. It
didn't matter. She still looked because that's what she'd been trained to
do.


Jace trained the best.


And Rafe was one of the best.


The night air was still wet, but those were the nights that Rafe loved the
hunt most of all.


She thrived on it and this night was no different.


'It's a pity there ain't more tonight.' Rafe thought, almost sad. As
she rounded the last corner and Carla's Cats came into view, she saw the sign
was turned off and the back door was propped open. Lights and sounds emanated
from inside. As she drew closer, Rafe hugged the wall and waited just behind the
door. She was hidden from the night's darkness. The moon didn't touch the alley
and because of it, Rafe got a clear picture through the door's crack inside.


From the empty air around her, she was able to hear perfectly.


Four men laughed around a table. She heard guffaws and the scrape of chairs
across the tiled floor. When she heard Carla's throaty laugh on a seductive
note, Rafe grinned slightly--'Carla's hoping to get laid.'


A second later, after Carla's high-pitched laugh rang out as a breathless
giggle—Rafe figured that Hedge felt the same.


"Boss, we're finished cleaning up. Mind if we head on home?" Someone hollered
across the bar.


"Yeah, yeah! Have a good one, Chrissy!" Hedge suggestively laughed.


Carla giggled again before she ended with a swoon.


Rafe smirked and was about to move around the door when she heard, "Is that
deal going through, Boss?"


Rafe held still.


"What are you—stupid? You wait until the boy's gone before we talk business."
Hedge reprimanded sharply with a fist to the table.


"Chris is drunk and so Lacey. They ain't hearing anything that ain't in their
pants. Trust me."


"You still wait until the room's cleared." Hedge said authoritatively.


Rafe had heard that authority before. She'd heard it from her father, her
brother, and most of the druglords that they'd destroyed or killed.


It was funny. She'd never heard the same authority from Jace, not with the
same note. And yet, Jace was authority, but he was respected.


'Maybe that's the difference.' Rafe considered. It didn't matter—it
was a sixth sense. She always knew who deserved that authority and who
unrightfully took it.


Hedge was the latter.


"Sorry, boss."


"Don't worry about it."


"What about the door?" Carla asked, huskily.


"Forget it. There ain't no one out there and it's hot in here."


"But—boss, I thought you said—"


"—I said don't worry about it."


Rafe held still, but the corner of her lip curled upwards in a mocking
manner. He didn't deserve…


'Dude's a hypocrite.'


"So you were asking, Knot, about the deal with Kilborn." Hedge started, now
all business.


"Yeah. I thought we don't do business with the Pedlam Pack and yet, Mason
told me that it's going through anyway. What are you doing?"


'What the—' Rafe froze, just for a moment, at the name...


Hedge said quickly, rushed, "I'd be stupid to turn down that deal. There
might be a rift between our Pack and theirs, but we're all Panthers. We look out
for each other. It's a brotherhood at the end of the day, Knot. Don't you forget
it."


"Shit, man. I've never felt any 'brotherhood' love from those fuckers. Why
are we slipping more money into their hands? Just because Kip was Lanser's
second-hand man ain't mean nothing to me. Jace Lanser spit on our Pack. And
besides, Cole Kilborn ain't the real leader of that group. Kip still is. I don't
understand what we're doing with them."


A fist pounded on the table. Rafe could hear the dishes rattle from the force
and one slipped to the floor. The crash echoed out into the opened alley.


"We don't talk about our brothers like that." Hedge spoke tightly.


Rafe heard the rage there, but she wondered about the cause. Hedge didn't
strike her as a guy who liked his decisions questioned.


There was tense silence from inside the bar.


Carla broke it when she giggled, uncomfortably, "Hedge, honey. It's really
got to do with Lodo's say, right? He's the active leader, but…I know that he
listens to you. You make sure to steer him correct on this deal."


"Damn straight. Lodo listens to me. And I say that we do the deal. Cole
Kilborn leads the Pedlam Panthers. Kip's still the official leader, but everyone
knows that Kilborn's taking over in a few months. Cole Kilborn is born from good
stock. He's smart and young. He's the right guy to do business with. If he asks
us to ride protection on some shipment, then I'm all for it. Besides, I think
it's time we end this rift. It's gone on for too long—almost ten years now."


Rafe frowned and bent her head forward. There was silence from inside. She
raised a hand to steady herself against the door in front of her.


Finally, Knot murmured, "It's hard to end a rift when no one knows where it
started."


"That's enough, boy!" Hedge sent something scattering across the club. It
smashed into a wall and broke into pieces on the floor.


A chair was pushed back and Knot's voice sounded louder, clearer. He stated,
almost as if he tried to persuade himself, "Lodo's our leader, Hedge. You ain't.
We spend time here, but Lodo's got the final say-so and if he says we don't do
business with Pedlam then we don't. They ain't do nothing for us. I don't care
if we're all Brothers. I don't feel that shit for them and I know Lodo don't
either."


"Guys…" Carla said weakly.


Rafe closed her eyes. She could picture the waitress in the corner,
frightened from the violence before her.


Another chair was savagely pushed back.


Rafe knew that Hedge stood to the challenge. A moment later, she heard,
"Boy—you get out of my bar. You ain't welcome around these parts no more. I've
been with the gang longer than you. I was shitting blood when you were born
around these parts. You don't know a goddamn thing about what you're talking
about."


Silence filled the heavy air.


A foot thudded once on the floor and then again.


Knot passed swiftly through the opened door.


Rafe quickly melted against the wall, but he never noticed. He hurried down
the alley and Rafe heard an engine roar a moment later. He peeled out into the
street and that's when Rafe sighed before she moved around the door.


The street was completely empty. It was a strange and oddly content feeling
that shifted through her as she walked across the wet cracked tar as she
approached her car. It was still parked, hidden underneath the canopy of
trees.


Rafe lingered, once, as she fitted her key into the lock.


She glanced over her shoulder to the bar.


Carla's Cats felt strange to her. The entire town felt strange to her, but
there was something—something odd that felt right with her.


Rafe shook her head, 'I ain't going to figure that out. I don't want to
figure it out.'


She swung the door open, slumped in her seat, but never took her gun out from
the small of her back. As she reached forward to start the engine, Rafe couldn't
help another look towards the closed bar.


The sign looked depressed.


'A lot like it's fucking town.' Rafe sneered as she started the
engine and pulled out onto the street. She glided past the bar, down a second
empty block, before she lingered at a stop sign.


Her eyes caught on a pair of parked headlights, tucked behind a closed
grocery mart. She would've moved forward, but another car cut her off and
careened to an abrupt stop before the parked car. Doors were opened and slammed
shut, hushed conversations were heard, but after another slammed door and the
car peeled off again—Rafe wondered what drug of choice had been sold and if it
had been worth the money.


She smirked, but her gaze swept over the hood of her car and a savage curse
escaped through her clamped lips.


She could see smoke drifting in the front of her headlights. As she drove
another block, Rafe bit back a curse.


The smoke never left, but had increased which meant—'goddamn piece of
shit!' Rafe seethed as she parked the car and swept from the seat to
quickly throw open her front hood.


A cloud of smoke burst forth.


Rafe groaned, but quickly scanned the neighborhood.


As her gaze caught and held on an auto shop, Rafe remembered Carla's
words.


"That's Cliff Greenly. He owns the local garage around Red Valley. He's a
good guy, been through a hard time with his family…"


Rafe wondered if he did late night calls…and if he didn't—she wasn't above
making him do late night calls.


She closed the front hood, locked the car, and hurried across the empty
street. The shop was closed, but Rafe peered through the windows. A staircase
led upstairs. Rafe backed up and checked the second floor—one window was open
and she heard the sound of a fan whirling.


Just as she reached out to test the door handle—which was locked—her phone
peeled a harsh ring.


Rafe snatched it up to quickly silence the echo, but she cursed inwardly as
she answered shortly, "What?"


"You're in fucking Red Valley? Why the fuck are you in Red Valley?"


An easy grin quickly replaced the scowl and Rafe laughed, "Coolay—you're
swearing like a sailor. What's up with that?"


"You're in Red Valley?" Coolay burst out again.


Rafe heard a shuffling sound over the phone and asked, "What are you doing?
Are you pacing?"


"You're in Red Valley. This is not good, Rafe. You don't even know how this
is not good."


"Okay." She rocked back on her heels. "Why do you care and you weren't
supposed to trace my call."


"I didn't trace your call, it just…it just came to me. It was a force of
habit—I don't know. I don't care—you're in Red Valley!"


Rafe snapped her phone shut and silenced it. She slid it into her back pocket
and turned towards the door again. Her hand reached for it again, but she
already knew it'd be locked. She'd been taught how to unlock a door. She knew
the right tools, the quick flick of the wrist, and how the pin needed to be
perfectly matched—but she was always the worst one on the team for this
thing.


She never had the tools on her.


She never had the patience.


So, perusing the glass encased window—Rafe jerked the butt of her gun out and
smashed it against a corner of the door's window. She inwardly winced at the
sound of glass on the floor, but her hand reached inside and unlocked the
door.


She'd walked inside when a light flooded her and she heard the cock of a
rifle at the ready.


Rafe instantly had her gun in hand and swept northwards.


There he was—Cliff Greenly stood in flannel pajamas and a rifle aimed at her
from the top of his stairs. His hair stuck up haphazardly. If they'd been under
different circumstances, Rafe would've grinned at the sight.


"Put the gun away, old man." Rafe warned smoothly. Her finger tightened on
the trigger, "I'm an ace shot and I never hesitate."


Cliff Greenly blinked and cursed his old age. His eyes weren't what they used
to be, but he found himself staring at the same girl that he'd seen in Hedgey's
place.


"You come in here. You shatter my door and you tell me to put my gun away?
Little lady, it don't work like from these parts."


Rafe's eyes squinted in approval, but her voice was emotionless, "And that's
the only reason you ain't on the floor with a hole in you. I come for
business—business only."


Cliff pierced her with his beady green eyes. His eyebrows were shaggy, but
they didn't mask the intelligence Rafe noted. He studied her for another minute
and then, slowly and cautiously, he lifted the rifle and rested it against his
broad shoulder.


She instantly released her finger from the trigger and let the gun hang
beside her thigh, but she still kept it in hand.


Cliff eyed the gun as he descended the quiet stairs. He murmured, "That's not
a hunting piece."


"Depends on your type of hunting." Rafe retorted quickly. She grinned.


"I don't know a lot of girls who shoot and don't go hunting."


"Again. Not that kind of hunting." Rafe stepped back as he came to stand in
front of her. She kept a safe distance, just out of arm's reach. She gestured
behind her, out the broken window, "My car broke down. I was wondering if you'd
fix it for me."


"That's why you broke my door?" Cliff rubbed a hand over his beard and
gestured to the door. "I just put that in this week."


Rafe never apologized.


She glanced over, considered her decision, and shrugged, "I needed to get
your attention. I got it, didn't I?"


"And that's supposed to make me neighborly towards you? I'm supposed to fix
your car after that?" Cliff shook his head and raked her up and down, "You ain't
like most girls around here."


Rafe sheathed the gun back in place, in the small of her back, and asked,
"You going to look at my car or not?"


"You going to replace my door or not?"


"I can." She said carefully, "It's easier to replace the window and not the
whole door."


Cliff circled around her. He neared the door and bent forward to inspect the
damage. With a hand to his jaw, he mused, "Yeah. I could replace the window. It
don't look like the whole door needs to go. I liked that door."


"Now you've got a story with the door." Rafe tried to check her impatience.
"You want to look at my car or not?"


"Whew." Cliff whistled before he thought, "You're highstrung. No wonder
you're Jay Sullivan's girl."


Rafe felt the floor drop out from beneath her. She blinked. Her gun was up
and she cocked the gun again. She blinked again. Her voice gutted out cold as
she demanded with dead eyes, "You want to run that by me again?"


Cliff caught his breath. He hadn't thought and now he could've kicked
himself, 'Damn foolhardy…'


Cliff raised one hand gently in the air and soothed, "Now…I apologize. I
spoke without thinking. I…I don't know what I meant when I said that. It ain't
any of my business."


"My father is dead." Rafe said harshly. Her gun was held with a steady hand.
Her eyes seethed. "And if you want to get through this night alive, you're going
to forget what you just said. You hear me?"


"I hear you. I hear you." Cliff said quickly, almost delicately. He watched
cautious and with wide eyes.


The thought had first crossed his mind when he saw her take a seat at
Hedgey's place, but the words had slipped past his fumbling lips before he
realized how Jay Sullivan's daughter might not want that information spread
around town.


Jay Sullivan was a bastard. There wasn't another way to pretty up that
fact.


With his hand in the air, Cliff held his breath and wasn't sure if he'd be
seeing Doris with his two boys before the end of the night. The girl was capable
of murder. He saw it clear and distinct in her eyes.


Anyone raised by Jay Sullivan would have to be.


"I didn't mean no disrespect. I don't know what I was talking about." Cliff
said further.


The light of madness in her coal eyes never shifted. She watched him how a
hunter would watch a frozen deer. One breath, one jump, and the animal would've
been shot on the ground before the hooves would've landed again.


Slowly, slowly, Rafe released her breath.


The name had come out of nowhere and it scorched her, but…this wasn't her
target. Rafe told herself that again as she forcibly relaxed her hand around the
gun and let it hang beside her leg again.


She didn't offer any explanation or threat. She didn't offer anything.


And Cliff felt as if he'd just escaped an attack with his life still in tact.
A wave of relief crushed him, but he forced out, "You…ah…your car. Where's it
at?"


Rafe gestured abruptly to the street behind her.


Cliff looked past the broken window and saw a Mustang parked.


"What happened…exactly?" Cliff slowly and carefully walked to his work bench.
He reached for a flashlight and a set of keys.


"There was smoke underneath my hood." Rafe's voice sounded strange to her
ears. It was as if a stranger spoke for her.


"White smoke? Black? Did it smell?"


She shook her head. "No smell. And it was white."


"Can you drive it in?" Cliff asked as he opened the door and held it open. He
swept a hand outside and said politely, "Ladies first."


Rafe smirked at that, but stepped through. She turned her back and waited as
he walked beside her. Together, the two crossed the distance and Rafe bent
forward to release the hood. Cliff bent forward and gestured, "Okay. Why don't
you go and start it? I'll take a look and then you can just drive it right
in."


Rafe eyed the old man with cautious, but she said nothing and did as she was
told. She knew a little bit, but she needed transportation as soon as possible.
Cliff Greenly was the expert in this area so Rafe held back the threats.


After she started the car, Cliff took only a second before he replaced the
hood. When he pointed towards the garage, Rafe turned the car into the lot and
waited as he went back inside and lifted the door for her. She eased the car in
and turned it off. Cliff closed the door quickly.


Rafe got out, but peered through the door's high windows. It was dark outside
and their light was on.


They were the targets.


Rafe wasn't comfortable with that.


"You...ah…you got any wheels for me?" She murmured as she flipped the lights
off and returned to her stance at the windows.


Cliff stopped in his tracks. He had just stepped around to the hood when the
lights shut off and he peered questionable at the girl poised with a 9mm in her
hand.


Cliff had served his time in the war. He knew his way around an AK 47 and he
also recognized a trained agent when he saw one. For some reason, he'd seen Jay
Sullivan's daughter first, but now he saw who she'd become.


'Why in the world would…?' His thoughts trailed off as Rafe turned
and fixed him with a piercing stare.


"You're in trouble." He stated flatly. His hand had risen to the front pocket
of his flannel shirt to retrieve his handkerchief, but it fell as he spoke. "You
were at Hedgey's place for a reason. You were looking for that other girl."


"I need to get out of town." Rafe remarked. She turned so her back was to the
wall. She alternated her gaze from the mechanic and the outside street.


Cliff knew that there were two types like her who ran. Ones who ran from the
law and ones who ran from the Panthers.


It was a gut hunch, but something was telling Cliff that this girl wouldn't
be fazed if the law came knocking at his door. Something told him that she'd be
eager for it.


'I knew Jay Sullivan.' Cliff considered his next action. 'And I
knew he only had that one girl that's been around now and then, but this one…she
ain't known to be a Sullivan, but by my earthly heaven—she's a Sullivan born and
bred…I should've done better than what I did…'


He sighed and closed his eyes swiftly as he murmured, "I've been hankering
with a car in my backyard. No one knows it's there, but it's workable. You can
take that and return for this one later on…"


…when it's safe.


Rafe felt the unspoken words and an alien emotion sparked inside of her. She
straightened and considered the old man again. Her eyes never wavered from his,
but something akin gratefulness washed through her. She narrowed her eyes and
her lips parted in contemplation.


'No one, but my team helps for free. What's his angle?' But it was
something she couldn't decipher that minute. He'd offered her transportation out
of a hotzone. Rafe slid her gun back in place and held out her hands,
"Keys?"


Cliff eyed her outstretched hand.


The palm was steady. The skin was young. And the handler might be his early
grave, but Cliff knew he needed to pay for his sins. He walked towards the
bench, grabbed a set of keys off a hook, and handed them over.


"It's out back, underneath the black tarp. She's got a full tank of gas. You
bring her back when you want her little lady revving again. She'll be waiting
for you."


Rafe held his gaze for another intent perusal, but her fingers closed around
the cold metal and she left.


Cliff waited behind. She moved fast and he heard Doris' engine purr softly a
moment later before it was gone just as fast. The lights hadn't been turned on
and he only caught a brief flash of brake lights before he was alone in his
garage again.


Cliff left the lights off and retired to his room. He'd work on the car in
the daylight when it wouldn't seem suspicious. And, instead of returning to his
single bed, Cliff grabbed his bottle of Wild Turkey, settled back in his
lounger, and uncapped the bottle to keep him company until the morning hours
returned to his side.


He thought sadly and fondly, 'Here's to you, Jay Dog, to how you
should've been once again.'