Snitches Get Stitches (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 8)

Grabbing the keys to my company truck—it’d look a lot less suspicious if I had a utility truck parked down the block instead of my personal vehicle.

That, and when you were kidnapping a girl from school, there had to be certain steps that were followed.

Kind of like protecting yourself without alerting anybody to what you were about to do.

Luckily, I had friends’ kids that went there, and I knew that there were a few problem areas that arose over the last school year.

My friend, who’d been called by the teacher because his daughter had a problem at school, had been livid.

The teacher had explained that when the child had gone from the gym to use the bathroom, the door had closed and locked behind her. She had banged on the door to be let back in, but the music in the gym was too loud to hear the knocking. The five-year-old was forced to stand outside and wait for someone to let her back in.

And since the door never opened, the little girl was forced to stand outside in the cold for over forty-five minutes.

When my friend was told this, he’d lost his shit on the school and pointed out all the problems that he saw there.

Such as the gate that was directly next to the gym that stayed open all day long. And since it was on a side road that was rarely used except for the busses, nobody thought it was necessary to actually close the gate.

A gate that I planned to use today.

Or…I would have had I not pulled up and seen Tyson and the girl walking to the car from the front of the school.

Grinning, I waited until they were both in, and then followed them to the nearest gas station where Tyson bailed out of the vehicle like a NASCAR driver and rounded the hood only to come to a stop when he saw me.

“Oh, thank God.” He breathed, looking as if he’d run a marathon already that morning. “I need help!”

I blinked. “You want to follow me to my house?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “No. I want you to take her and run. As far and as fast as possible.”

I thought about that, then thought more, and wondered if maybe I should be doing this right in the open with at least four people within earshot.

“Meet me at the end of the road,” I lowered my voice. “There’s a turnoff right before it Ts off. Take it and wait for me. I’ll be there after I get fuel.”

He glanced around at the people that were staring at him as if he’d lost his mind and then nodded.

I doubted any of them had actually heard what he had to say, but they could read the tone of his voice, that was for sure.

That, and he’d pulled into the gas station on a screech of tires. It was hard to ignore that.

“Okay.” He nodded once, seeming to collect himself. “Okay.”

I watched him walk calmly to his newer model Mercedes and get in, and I saw the worried look of the little girl as she stared at the man that had, in so many ways, been the only father she had ever known. Tyson pulled out and began his slow drive away, motoring down the street as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

When I pulled up at the gas pump, I took my time. Played with my phone. Screwed around on it scrolling through pictures even though I didn’t play on my phone all that much.

I didn’t have any apps that I could make myself look busy puttering on, either.

Hell, Theo had more on her phone that she’d had for only days than I had on my phone that I’d had for years.

The pump clicked, indicating I’d reached the limit—of money, not of actually filling my tank up—and I sighed and pulled it out of the holder. “Such a stupid fuckin’ rule,” I muttered as I glared at the seventy-five-dollar price tag. “If I wanted to put in two hundred bucks, y’all should’ve fuckin’ let me. What’s it matter if I do? I mean, are you going to stop me from pulling it right back out again and getting more? No, no you’re fuckin’ not.”

“Talking to yourself is a sign that you’re going crazy,” I heard muttered from my side.

I flipped Brielle, Bayou’s adopted sister, off.

She snorted and dropped down in her car, slamming it closed behind her.

I watched her drive away while I shoved my wallet back into my pocket.

I didn’t want Tyson to sit there too long anyway. I wanted to get to him before he decided to run again. His head hadn’t looked all that screwed on.

Heading to the same road, but taking the longer way, I finally pulled into the almost hidden road and made my way about half a mile down it before I found Tyson’s car sitting there, on the side of the road, with him pacing back and forth next to it.