few hours a day and then start heading east again. Other than for gas and to take a piss, don’t stop anywhere that’s not on the list. Once you make it to Boston, we’ll have a plan in place.”
“Okay, boss, thanks.” Razor hated to further antagonize him, but he said, “What about my…problem?” He didn’t mind spending some time away from home. But he wasn’t a city kind of guy and he already missed the swamp. He didn’t want to spend his life on the run.
“Le Petit and Stone were just here looking for you. They say they have a witness that saw you pull the trigger.” Stone and Le Petit were two NOPD detectives. Le Petit was somewhat of an ally to the club; Stone, not so much. She seemed to have a personal issue with Blackheart and would do whatever necessary to bring his entire club down.
“Shit. They’re lying, boss. I didn’t…”
“I know. Le Petit seems to know they’re lying too but wants to talk to you. Thing is, it doesn’t matter. Until they, or we, find someone to pin this on, they’ll be looking for you. Bandit set you up…I told you a thousand times, Razor, you can’t save the fucking world.” Razor had an inherent need to help the underdog, which was what he was doing when he pissed off Bandit, the owner of a card room in New Orleans and a small-time gangster. Razor had been standing up for Bandit’s old lady…of course he’d been fucking her too, but that was beside the point. She’d warned him more than once not to confront Bandit about how he treated her, but he hadn’t been able not to. Now she was dead, and although he hadn’t killed her, he knew his big mouth had caused it all. And what he’d ended up with for his trouble was the guilt of knowing she was dead because of him, and a trumped-up murder charge. “Keep going,” Blackheart said. “And keep the girl close. Don’t let her call anyone, do you understand?”
“Yeah, I understand.”
“The text with the addresses will be coming through soon. Aaron will be bringing you another burner. When he does, destroy this one and text me the number of the new one. And while you’re out on the road, keep your big head down and don’t pick up any more strays, okay?”
“Okay, boss. You think her father is looking for her too? Will we be dodging cops and Vipers?”
“Maybe not yet, but I’m sure he will be when he realizes she’s gone. If you can talk her into it, maybe a haircut and dye might be in order. Lord knows you could use a haircut yourself.”
He chuckled. “Okay, boss, thanks again.” He ended the call and heard Kayleigh’s voice from behind him:
“How do you know who my father is?”
Razor took a breath and then turned to face her. She was standing about two feet behind him. He didn’t know how long she’d been there, or what she’d heard, exactly. “Who says I do?”
“Don’t play games with me. This is stupid. If we’re running together, then we need to be honest with each other. You’re not just some guy out on vacation. If you were, you would have let them call an ambulance when that truck hit me, and you’d be done. I think you’re running from something yourself…but, if you’re not sharing with me, I’m not sharing anything else with you.”
“Can we sit?” Kayleigh nodded and limped over to the recliner in the small living room. Razor had an almost overwhelming desire to help her every time she moved but getting too close to her was proving to be dangerous at times, so he let her do it herself. He took a seat on the small couch, hoping it would hold his weight and said, “I belong to the New Orleans Jokers. I’m in a little bit of trouble myself and I was taking a ‘vacation’ until things settle down at home. My president is trying to help both of us, but if you want our help, you’re going to have to trust me.”
“Is your name really Ron Green?”
“No. It’s Frasier. Frasier Trahan.” Her lips twitched and defensively he said, “My mom was a fan of the old TV show, and I was born the year it came out. My road name is Razor. That’s what I prefer.”
With a small smile she said, “You do look more like a Razor than a Frasier.”
“Thank God,” he said with