Razor The Wild Ones - Jessie Cooke Page 0,4
where she could now hear the bikes turning into her driveway, she tossed the tote bag and her purse over the neighbor’s back fence and then climbed over and dropped to her feet on the other side. A motion light came on as soon as she hit the ground, and a dog started barking from inside. Kayleigh didn’t wait to see what might happen. She hit the neighbor’s gate running, coming out on the other side where she’d left her car. The street was dark, but she didn’t need more than a porch light or two to make out the large shadows of two men, and the gleaming of moonlight bouncing off the shiny chrome of their motorcycles. There was absolutely no way she was getting to her car without being seen. Kayleigh suddenly wondered if this was what her cop father had in mind when he told her that her infatuation with Bobby Lee Ramsey would someday lead to her waking up in the center of a landfill, and wondering how in the hell she’d gotten there.
2
The sun was coming up as Razor drove east and even with the shield on his helmet and his sunglasses, he could barely see. He’d left New Orleans’s at dawn, headed for…anywhere but there. He started out west but when he got about an hour away, changed his mind and headed the other direction. He had no idea where he was going, yet. What he knew for sure was that he was in trouble, and Blackheart had just gotten back from California and was in no mood for it. When he found out what Razor had done, he told him to pack a bag and leave town. He gave him a burner phone, a few thousand dollars in cash, and made him leave his own phone, his Louisiana ID, and all his credit and debit cards behind. Blackheart had a plethora of fake ID on hand. He picked one out that resembled Razor, handed it to him, and said:
“Your name is Ronald Green, for now.”
“Ronald?” Razor said, curling his lip. “Isn’t that, like, a clown’s name?”
Blackheart’s blue eyes sparked with flames when he said, “Fitting, isn’t it?”
Razor had felt his whole face go red. He thanked his boss profusely and when Blackheart didn’t tell him how long he was supposed to stay gone, or even where he was supposed to go, he didn’t ask. He was a little annoyed since what he had done hadn’t really been any worse than what any of his brothers would have done if presented with the same situation…but, since he committed his “sin” while the boss was out of town dealing with someone else’s problems, he was on the receiving end of Blackheart’s irritation when he got back. It was especially bad when Blackheart found out the police were working on getting a warrant and would likely be descending on the club at any minute. Razor had to admit that he had a right to be pissed.
Razor had gotten on his bike just before sunrise and started driving. He changed courses once and now he was somewhere just outside of Baton Rouge. He figured he’d just drive until he got tired, and when he stopped for the night, he’d give Blackheart a call when he stopped. Maybe by then the boss would be calmed down enough to give him some kind of direction. Razor had family in New York and Boston, so if it came down to running forever, he supposed he could stay with one of his sisters. He loved his sisters, but they weren’t close. They’d all grown up in Slidell, Louisiana, in a two-parent home. Their childhood had been a good one. They never had much, but they always had what they needed. His sisters were ten and twelve years older than him however and they’d left home the second they turned eighteen because that was the first thing most kids who grew up in Slidell, Louisiana did. Razor’s mother was certain at first that they’d be back soon, but both ended up falling in love and getting married and staying on the East Coast.
At first, they had both kept in touch, but after a while their busy lives and their own families took precedence. Razor felt like he’d been all but forgotten save for Christmas and his birthday. His oldest sister, the one living in Boston, sent him a card with money in it every year for his birthday, and as if he’d