“Thanks, Marcus. I owe you big time. Okay, I need you to drive down here and pick up the kid. Take him back to Baton and watch him. I think it’s safer to get this kid out of the state in case the killer comes looking for him.”
“And you don’t think the police can do a better job of keeping this kid safe?” Marcus could barely get that out while keeping a straight face.
“Don’t be a smart-ass. Who’s going to come after a kid when he’s got a whole goddamn biker gang protecting him?”
Burke was right. No man in his right mind would dare take on the Shadow Vipers. But a serial killer wasn’texactly in his right mind, was he? Was he really willing to put all their lives in danger just to protect some kid he didn’t even know?
“Marcus, you still there?” Burke’s voice cut through his train of thought.
“Yeah, man. Pick up the kid. Protect the kid. Prove that cops can’t do shit.” Marcus gave a snort as he added that last part.
“I seem to remember saving your ass a few times over the years. If I’m not mistaken, I think the last one involved that boy Lucas, a bunch of snakes, and one dead ex. Am I right?”
Damn, motherfucker.
“So, it seems that I owe you…a few,” Marcus noted. “Send me the address, and I’ll head out tomorrow morning, boss.”
“Thanks, Marcus. I knew I could count on you and your boys for help.”
They ended their call. Marcus sat in silence, gripping his phone in his hand as he stared off into space.
The police had a witness now. He wondered how long it would take before this motherfucker was caught. The thought of someone preying on lovesick men, whose only crime was that they were hoping to find their forever partner, made him sick.
For now, he would take in this kid and provide him with the best fucking protection known to man.
No, Marcus was not cocky at all.
3
MARCUS
It was about a six-hour drive from Baton, New Mexico, to Colorado Springs, where Burke was keeping the kid in police custody.
Marcus had borrowed Alexis and Jake’s car, figuring it would be easier to smuggle a kid out of a police station in a car than on the back of a motorcycle. Plus, Marcus wasn’t sure how good the kid would be on the back of a bike for six hours, clinging to a complete stranger. He might feel weird or uncomfortable.
Stepping out of the car, Marcus stretched his back and winced. He needed to start taking more breaks on long drives because his back was no longer twenty years old. While he still hit the gym five days a week and was as large as a tank, the truth was that nature was starting to catch up to him. But there was no way in hell he was letting any of the guys know that.
No. He kept pushing them hard at the gym to prove to the guys that he still had control and could be relied on to lead. Nobody wanted to be led by a biker who had back problems and whose knees cracked whenever he got up—which they did.
Fuck, getting older sucked.
Marcus had left Baton around six a.m., so it was just after noon when he arrived at the police station.
Burke had decided that after the kid was checked out by the doctors, the next safest place for him was the police station. So he had him tucked away in one of the cells, where at least six officers could keep an eye on him.
Once Marcus stepped into the station, the officer behind the front desk glanced up and gave Marcus a head-to-toe. He wasn’t sure whether the woman was impressed by the hotness of his swollen muscles or by the size of his six-foot-four, tatted frame.
Perhaps she was wondering whether someone had left a cell unlocked, and Marcus was kindly returning himself after taking a leisurely morning stroll.
Either way, he’d take the compliment.
“How can I help you?” the woman finally asked once she was done eye-fucking Marcus.
Marcus placed his hands on the counter and began tapping his fingers on the surface.
“I’m here to see Sheriff Burke. Name’s Marcus.”
“Marcus!” a voice shouted from down the hall.
