Dr. Strange Beard by Penny Reid

Author:Penny Reid [Reid, Penny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cipher-Naught
Published: 2018-07-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

“There was a long hard time when I kept far from me the remembrance of what I had thrown away when I was quite ignorant of its worth.”

Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

*Simone*

“You have to go to Nashville.”

I stared at Nelson, saying nothing. Lundqvist was giving me a sympathetic look. I suspected I’d bought his sympathy with doughnuts.

Nelson’s glare moved over me and she grunted; it was an impatient, unhappy sound. “Payton, time is running out.”

“I know.”

She met my stare with one of her own, clearly waiting for me to continue speaking. When I continued my silence instead, Nelson stood and paced the length of the small kitchen, her movements restless. “Okay, so, let me break this down. The Kentucky Derby is next weekend. According to your contact in the Wraiths, Razor Dennings will be there, reasons unknown.”

“Right.”

“Lundqvist’s intel from the Black Demons and my information from the G-Spot point to Razor Dennings as the perp. All the local clubs believe he’s the one behind the murders. We have circumstantial evidence, but no smoking gun.”

Or knife. Razor carried knives, all the dead bodies we’d found had been stabbed to death, but we’d found no murder weapons.

“Three weeks ago, you believed Winston wanted to make a deal, that he has information about—as you said—‘something big’ and seemed nervous during your meeting. He’s looking for a trade, an exchange for cancer treatment.”

“And a get-out-of-jail-free card,” I added, the reminder a warning.

She waved my comment away. “He gives us definitive evidence on Razor, he’s got his ticket out.”

“Right.” I tried not to grimace.

“But Winston needs his son’s—Roscoe’s—bone marrow.”

My heart twisted. “Right.”

“And you haven’t made contact with Roscoe in three weeks. Which—and I don’t think I’m making a huge leap here—is probably why Winston hasn’t approached us about a deal.”

I sighed, resting my elbow on the kitchen table and rubbing my forehead, combating a whole lot of feelings. Roscoe hadn’t found my tracker yet, so I was still monitoring his movements. Over the last several weeks, he followed a similar schedule to the first week I’d watched him, but with one big exception. He’d remained in Nashville Thursday night through Sunday instead of coming home to Green Valley.

Initially, I’d been relieved by his absence. Nashville, though not far in the scheme of things, was likely too far for Darrell Winston to arrange another abduction, especially if Darrell was trying to keep a low profile within the Wraiths.

But then, after one week became two—BAM! Feelings.

Always with the feelings.

This time it was longing. I missed him. I’d started missing him the day after he left, but I’d been able to reason through the foreign musings. Heck, I’d gone years without thinking about Roscoe, why should I think about him now?

So what if we’d kissed? (twice, on two separate occasions)

So what if we’d made out? (on the floor of a cell in the basement of the Dragon Biker Bar)

So what if it had been fan-fracking-tastic? (so much so, that—in retrospect—being abducted by the Iron Wraiths ranked among my top ten best dating/romantic experiences .

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