NOMAD (Sons of Sanctuary Book 3) Read online

  She cocked her head. “Did I agree to that?”

  “You did. When you accepted a free bed, shower, and breakfast.”

  “You didn’t say there was a charge.”

  For a second he was distracted by the unusual color of her eyes and the fact that she didn’t look away like most people did when he gave them a full-on stare down.

  “What are you doin’ after breakfast?”

  “Haven’t decided yet. How about you?”

  “I’m gonna finish the trip I started. Goin’ home.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Austin.”

  “Austin,” she repeated. “I’ve been there. When I was a kid.”

  He chuckled. “When you were a kid, huh? What is it that you think you are now?”

  She looked at him for a long time like she was deciding whether or not to answer and finally said, “Not a kid.”

  The waitress arrived with two platters that smelled like heaven to both of them. “Did you want gravy with those biscuits?” she asked.

  He said, “Yes,” just as Bud said, “No.”

  “Right then,” said their server. “One side of gravy comin’ up.”

  Bud began scooping up scrambled eggs like she hadn’t eaten in days. They clearly met with her approval, but she didn’t begin to make yummy noises until she started on the bacon. She ate the three pieces provided in record time and then looked over at Cann’s.

  He snorted and pushed his plate closer. “Go ahead,” he said. He motioned to the waitress and when she came over he said, “Bring us another order of bacon and make us two BLTs to go.”

  “Yep,” she said and hurried off to the kitchen.

  Bud smiled when she realized he was offering her all three pieces of his bacon. After snatching all of them, she bit into the first one with relish. He watched her mouth and cursed himself for the thought that came to mind. She was a kid.

  “This is good,” she said.

  “Figured as much.”

  They ate in silence, paid the bill, and attracted just as much attention on the way out as they had on the way in. Not much exciting happens in small Texas panhandle towns. So little, in fact, that two people who were not locals eating at the café was news.

  Out on the sidewalk, with a toothpick between his teeth, Cann said, “There’s a People’s Bank there on the corner. Why don’t you walk over there with me?”

  Bud pulled her bag tighter and looked up and down the street like she was weighing her options.

  “Okay,” she said.

  The bank had only been open five minutes when they arrived. Cann walked up to the teller window.

  “Need a blank check,” he said.

  “Do you have an account, sir?” asked the woman behind the glass.

  “I do.”

  She placed a blank check and a pen in the little curved valley of a tray below the glass. Cann made it out for five hundred dollars then placed the check and the pen back in the tray.

  “May I see your driver’s license and your debit card?”

  He pulled his wallet out of his pants, fished out the two plastic rectangles and placed them in the tray.

  After performing several tasks that involved her keyboard, the teller said, “How would you like that, sir?”

  “Two hundreds. Four fifties. Four twenties. Two tens.”

  “Just a minute, sir,” she said. “I need to get your fifties from the back. Here’s your ID.”

  She placed the two cards back into the tray.

  Bud reached for his driver’s license before he did and he made no move to stop her.

  “Cannon Johns,” she read from the face of his license. “Today’s your birthday.”

  He hadn’t remembered that and wouldn’t have thought about it if she hadn’t said something.

  “Huh,” he replied.

  “My birthday is in another week.”

  “Huh,” he repeated.

  “This says you’re only twenty-five. Today.”

  “Yeah. So?” He held his hand out for the license.

  “You, ah, look older.”

  “Well.” He sighed. “Not surprisin’.”

  The teller returned and said, “I’m going to count this out for you here.” Cann nodded then watched her count the bills. “Would you like an envelope?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  She put the money inside an envelope made for that purpose and set it in the tray.

  Cann motioned for Bud to follow him to the counter where people stood to prepare transactions. They were still the only customers in the bank.

  He took a fifty, two twenties, and a ten out of the envelope and put the cash in his wallet. He resealed the envelope and walked outside.

  When they were on the sidewalk, he handed Bud the envelope.

  Her eyes flew to his in surprise. “What’s this?”

  “It’s money so you can rent your own bed tonight. I’ll rest better knowin’ you’re gonna have somethin’ to eat besides cheese crackers.”

  He shoved it toward her body and she took it out of reflex. “What I really want is a ride.”

  He’d already turned away from Bud and toward his bike. He stopped and turned around slowly. “Where?”

  “Austin?”

  “Look. Darlin’. I don’t have to tell you that you’re under age. You already know that. If it was next week, after your birthday, I’d give you a ride. Now? That’s the kind of trouble I don’t need.”

  “Please. I’m pregnant.”

  He froze for a couple of seconds before saying, “Jesus Christ. That is really the kind of trouble I don’t need.”

  “What kind of trouble do you need?”

  “You think this is a good time to be a smart ass?”

  “It’s not really a good time.”

  “Why are you out here in,” he waved his arm, “this town?”

  “My daddy wants me to have an abortion.”

  Cann looked skyward, ran a big hand through his hair and repeated, “Jesus Christ.” He looked at her. “That’s not legal, is it?”

  “It’s not legal to make me have an abortion, but if it’s done privately, forcibly, it’s his word against mine. And nobody’s gonna believe me.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “Died when I was five.”

  “Is this on the level?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you gonna do when you get to Austin? You got any money besides the money I gave you?”

  “Two dollars.”

  “You got relatives who’ll help you?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Jesus Christ. You got job skills?”

  “Not as such.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Means I could work. I just haven’t yet.”

  “High school?”

  “Yeah. Graduated early.” When he stared at her, she said, “I’m good at school.”

  “What about the…” he gestured toward her midsection, “father?”

  She sneered. “He agrees with my daddy. Left to join the armed services. Don’t know which one. Don’t care. It’s not like I loved him.”

  “Not like you loved him,” Cann said.

  His mind immediately went back to a day when he wasn’t much older than Bud. The love of his life was standing in front of him looking worried about his reaction.

  “I’m pregnant,” she’d said.

  It took a few seconds for that to sink in, but when it did, he grabbed her up and spun round and round. He laughed. She giggled. Until they fell down in the grass and lay looking into each other’s eyes, making big plans for the future.

  He knew he could take care of her and their baby even though he was too young to be starting a family by most people’s estimation. He’d already decided what he was going to do and had been doing the groundwork. He had plans to combine his internet skills with his love of vintage muscle cars. He was going to start a nationwide business matching available parts with people who needed t
hem.

  It had worked.

  He wasn’t a billionaire, but he was making enough to take care of Molly and their little girl. He’d bought a stone house near Dripping Springs and the Sons of Sanctuary MC.

  And life was good.

  Until the day Molly hadn’t been able to start her car. She needed corn meal for catfish and thought to take Cannon’s truck instead. She moved the car seat, fastened the baby in, started the car and it had exploded. The car next to it, the one that wouldn’t start, exploded as well. The house caught on fire and, by the time Cann knew about it, there was nothing left but ash and a few standing stones.

  He’d always been sure it was club related. Cann’s contribution to the club was mostly financial. They gave his business back office and warehouse support and he gave them a fair percentage. He belonged to Sons of Sanctuary because it was the kind of close knit, tribal community that everybody longs for. They would take care of his family if he couldn’t. They’d take care of his business if he couldn’t. And he’d do the same for them.

  Cann had always supposed that whoever planted the explosives had mistaken his club function. In other words, they got him confused with somebody else. On a personal basis, he had no enemies.

  His Molly. He worshiped her. They’d been together since they were fifteen and when he looked into the future, he only saw her face. Imagining life without her was impossible. The day his Molly died with their little girl he’d descended into hell and had been there ever since.

  Most people who took the time to look in his face turned away feeling grateful that they were not that guy. It had been almost four years since he’d gone nomad. Every minute was a dull ache he couldn’t escape. Every mile brought more emptiness until he couldn’t really see the point of living at all.

  Brant gave his permission and blessing when Cann asked to go nomad. Cannon Johns had changed the designation on his bottom rocker to nomad and taken to the road. Brant had told him that he was welcome back any hour of any day of forever.

  Years later, Cann realized that demons couldn’t be outrun. They always kept pace. He wasn’t ever going to outrun the pain. He wasn’t ever going to outlive the pain. So he was going home to say goodbye to his friends and end it once and for all.

  Bud had watched in fascination as Cann’s eyes glazed over. His thoughts had clearly taken him somewhere else.

  He blinked twice and focused on the girl. “So you didn’t love each other. Maybe that’s a sweet mercy,” he said in a rough voice.

  “Maybe.”

  “So why do you want to keep the baby so much?”

  She shrugged. “It’s not the baby’s fault that the sperm donor is an idiot.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Guess not. Why does your dad feel so strong about it?”

  “He says it’s cause he had plans for me. College. Blah. Blah. Blah. But the truth is that he thinks teenage pregnancy is trashy and he doesn’t want people to know.”

  “What kind of people? Friends?”

  “People he works with. My daddy doesn’t really have what you’d call friends, I don’t think.”

  Cann took in a big breath and let it out slowly. “So you’re asking me to take you to Austin and what?”

  “Just a ride. That’s all. I’ll find a job and never bother you. Swear.”

  “Uh-huh. You really want that baby?”

  “Made up my mind.”

  “You know how hard it is to take care of a baby?”

  She cocked her head. “You got kids?”

  “I used to. Babies… it’s not like getting a puppy. You have to be prepared to give them everything. Twenty-four hours a day. Whatever dreams you might have, they’ll take a backseat, because the only thing that’s important is the kid. You understand what I’m saying?”

  “You a biker or a counselor?”

  “Are you a smart ass or a girl who needs help?”

  She shifted her weight to one leg and her shoulders sagged a little. “Girl who needs help.”

  “You got a driver’s license?”

  “Yes.” To her credit, she answered without hesitation then stood waiting, perhaps hopefully, for what he would say next.

  “Show it to me.”

  She unzipped the bag that was either a giant purse or a small overnighter and withdrew a red wallet. She fumbled a little trying to get the license free of its holder and Cann thought her hand might be shaking a little.

  “Bud Slaughter McIntyre,” he read out loud. Without lifting his chin, his eyes came up to meet hers. “You weren’t lyin’ about bein’ named Bud.” She shook her head. “Weren’t lyin’ about your birthday either.” He looked down at the license in his hand. “You’re from El Paso.”

  “Lately.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Means we move around every few years.” She shrugged. “Daddy’s job.”

  “No brothers or sisters?” She shook her head. “Grandparents? Aunts? Uncles?”

  “I have grandparents, but I don’t know them. They’re strangers. So I wouldn’t ask them for help.” She trailed off as she realized that she’d just asked the stranger in front of her for help.

  He smirked as he handed the license back. “I’ll give you a ride if you promise you’ll give your grandparents a call when you get to Austin. They might surprise you.”

  CHAPTER Three

  In less than an hour they were on the outskirts of Amarillo, but dark clouds were gathering overhead. Cannon pulled off and looked at a weather radar app. He looked up directions to the nearest Chevy dealership and headed straight there.

  When they pulled in, she said, “Why are we here?”

  “Stayin’ out of the rain, sugar.”

  Cannon pulled out a credit card and bought a three-year-old cargo van. He had them take the seats out and mount a ramp so he could get his bike inside. After they’d secured the motorcycle so that it wouldn’t tip over, no matter what, they climbed into the cab and drove away.

  “That’s a lot of money to protect your bike from rain,” she said.

  “It’s not the bike I’m trying to keep dry.”

  She looked out the window when she took his meaning. She didn’t want to get attached to the big gruff biker, but knowing that he’d gone to such trouble and expense to take care of her left her heart lodged in her throat.

  “If we do drive-through, eat in the car, we’ll be there by seven tonight.”

  She said, “Okay,” but her mind was racing. She had four hundred and two dollars to last until she could find a job and get paid. She couldn’t figure out what the next step might be until she got where she was going and looked at the options one hour at a time. The only thing she knew for sure was that she couldn’t let her father find her until she turned eighteen.

  She woke up to find that they were pulling into a fast food drive-through lane.

  “Last Burger King you’re gonna see for a while. What’ll you have?” Cann said.

  “Um, big fish sandwich. And a coke.”

  “No.”

  “No? What do you mean, no?”

  “Nobody eats big fish sandwiches. It’s a rule. This is not Fish King. It’s Burger King.”

  “The baby likes fish.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That’s the story you’re goin’ with?”

  She smiled. “Will that work?”

  Cann turned back to the lighted menu board. “Yeah. That’ll work.”

  When the voice prompted Cann to order, he rolled down his window and yelled at the microphone. “Double Whopper with cheese, a big fish sandwich, two large onion rings…” To Bud, he said, “You want French fries?” She nodded. “A regular fry, small coke and a bottled water.” He looked at Bud then turned back to the mic. “Cancel that coke order and make it two bottled waters.”

  “Hey,” Bud said.

  “You don’t need all that sugar when you’re pregnant.”

  She pretended to pout, but secretly loved that he cared whether she was taking care of herself and t
he baby, or not.

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” she said.

  “Okay. You hop out and run around to the other side of the building. I’ll get the food and pick you up over there.”

  He watched as she turned the corner and jogged out of sight.

  After shoving cash through the window, Cann stowed the piping hot sack on the console and set the water bottles in the two drink holders, and drove around to the pedestrian entrance on the opposite side. He parked close to the door and left the car running, but only had to wait a couple of minutes before she was swinging back up into the van.

  “That smells so good.” She smiled.

  As he backed out, he said, “You sort out who gets what while I get us back on the road.”

  “Again.”

  “What?”

  “On the road again. You can’t just say on the road. You have to say on the road again.”

  “Is that a rule?”

  “Yes. It’s in the same book that says nobody eats fish sandwiches.”

  “You really are a smart ass. Give me an onion ring.”

  “You’re gonna smell like onions.”

  He chuckled. “You care?”

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t care.”

  “So your pop wanted you to go to college?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was he gonna pay for it?”

  “Never asked him.”

  “What were you gonna study?”

  “Not tellin’.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause you’d laugh.”

  Cann drove in silence for a couple of miles before saying, “Hog calling.”

  “What?”

  “Since you’re not telling me, I’m gonna guess. I’m thinking of things you might study that would cause somebody to laugh.” She laughed. “So that’s it?”

  “No. That’s not it.”

  “Underwear engineering.”

  “You know that’s not a field of study. Right?”

  “Somebody has to figure out how to make it fit. Right?”

  “Yes. But I don’t think they go to school for that. They just do trial and error until it’s right.”