I go inside and quickly load a duffel with what we might need—an extra change of clothing, extra ammo, burner phones, a first aid kit, and zip-ties. Then I grab all my favorite guns where I need them and a hunting knife in my boot.
Jasper steps out from the side door, wiping his hands on a rag. “You going somewhere?”
“Personal business,” I say curtly.
He studies me for a moment. “You’re takin’ half the club officers for this personal business of yours?”
“I left you and Mica,” I remind him.
His eyes narrow on me, clearly unhappy to be left out of the loop. We aren’t the sharing type when it comes to our personallives. Because we live in such close quarters it feels like we have no privacy, so we grab it where we can. He presses his lips together but eventually nods. “Fine. Be fuckin’ cryptic if you must. Just remember we’re here if you need anything.”
“Will do, bro,” I throw over my shoulder as I climb onto my bike.
I’ve already forgotten our verbal exchange by the time my ass hits the seat. Pulling on my helmet, I leave the visor up for now. My hands settle into place.
Just before I hit the ignition switch, Christina comes around the corner of the building. For a second our eyes meet across the distance. She’s holding Katie in her arms. I raise my hand and blow them a kiss, so they know I care. Christina starts to step forward, then stops when Queenie touches her arm. She doesn’t know what’s happening yet, but she can sense that something’s up.
After that kiss we shared the first night that she was with us, I know if I go to her to say goodbye, I might break down and tell her what happened. It’s best to leave her here oblivious and happy, rather than be the cause of her being worried sick about me or fearful that she’s still being stalked.
My club brothers’ bikes roar to life around me, vibrating through the ground. Onyx pulls up beside me with his visor down and revs his engine. It’s a gentle reminder that we need to get going. I look once more at the women standing in the yard and make myself a promise to do whatever it takes to keep them safe.
I twist the throttle and take off, leading the pack out through the gate. Riding free on the open road enables me to clear myhead a bit. I start going over every piece of information Rivera gave me on the phone, looking for anything I missed that might enable me to find this fucker.
Chapter 6
Slate
The afternoon stretches into evening as we roll down the highway towards LA. My old battle buddy has taken a beating to protect the woman I never forgot, and that’s not something I’m likely to fuckin’ forget anytime soon. Rivera always was a selfless kind of man.
The roar of the engines actually calms my nerves and allows me to think. And I can’t help that all my thoughts are about Christina—especially about the kiss we shared and the way she looked in the yard when I pulled out.
I hate lying to her. She’s a good woman and not built for a life of lies and manipulation. She deserves so much better than that, especially after surviving an abusive relationship and all that entails. Plus, she’s a former investigative reporter who can sniff out lies faster than any human being I’ve ever met.
Onyx rides beside me, steady as always. He doesn’t talk much when we’re riding after dark. He doesn’t have to. We grew up together and have logged enough miles riding shoulder to shoulder that we can read each other’s thoughts through hand signals and head tilts.
Jinx’s truck stays a few car lengths behind us, headlights cutting through the dark. We make good time, pushing through empty stretches of freeway and small towns that shut down after sunset.
Three hours in, Rivera texts me the address of his hotel room. We pull off at the exit he gave us and make short workof finding the hotel with no trouble at all. It sits alone under a flickering sign that readsLone Star Motel. It is not the least bit impressive.
Rivera’s truck is parked at the far end, dented on the back panel. When we knock on the door, he answers with one hand pressed against his ribs. There’s a makeshift bandage wrapped around it. In the dim glow of the porch light I can see his face is a mass of cuts and bruises.
“You look like hell,” I say.
He laughs, then winces. “You should see the other guy,” he says, waving us in with his free hand.
“I plan to do more than see that fucker.”
Stitch arrives with his medical bag. “Glad you could make it,” I tell him as he sits Rivera down and begins examining him.
Lowering his voice, he asks, “You didn’t bring her, did you?”
Walking and dropping down into an armchair, I say, “No. Of course I didn’t fuckin’ bring her. What kind of damn moron do you take me for?”
An expression of relief jumps onto his face. “You’re a smart man. You don’t want her anywhere near this asshole. Her ex is totally unhinged. Not the kind of guy I ever imagined her getting with.”
“Exactly how unhinged is he?” I ask, with a sense of dread growing in my mind.
My friend rubs his face, wincing when he accidentally bumps into a nasty bruise. “He kept saying her name under his breath.Over and over. Like he had to remind himself who he was stalking.”
