“Asher, tell us how you want it done,” Sonny said.
I still had no idea how these clubs didn’t dissolve into civil war. Father-son, chapter against chapter, big man against big heart…I mean, fuck, it wasn’t exactly America united against a common enemy. We weren’t the embodiment of a perfect alliance.
But if it worked, who gave a fuck?
“All right,” I said. “Go change into the most basic clothing you can. Grab whatever vehicles you have that are not bikes. And then come back here.”
I sighed.
“Let’s go to Vegas, rescue my lady, and maybe even kill some King’s Men while we’re at it.”
Callie
Hours passed as I lay in the damp room, in a weird state of limbo.
I was fed. It was chilly but not tortuously cold. There were no hotel beds laid out, but there was a couch I could lie down on I hadn’t seen when Crush first came in the room.
I was left essentially with only my imagination and a weird feeling that things could end at any moment to keep me company. Sure, it was nice not feeling like I was going to be waterboarded. But I wasn’t stupid enough to believe Ash would have gone on the lam for over a year just to avoid some guys who had bad attitudes.
I was hopeful enough he would make the effort to come and rescue me, but how and when that would happen remained a giant, unanswered mystery to me. Tonight? Tomorrow? In the next hour? At three in the morning?
But what if he doesn’t?
The thought was one I wanted to easily dismiss. One fight, especially one where I now felt I’d acted like a diva, wouldn’t mean he wouldn’t rescue me. At least, that’s what I felt like I should believe.
But damnit, he’d disappeared for a year on me. A full year! Who was to say he was coming back? Who was to say that he had even gotten the news?
I told myself they’d know of Owen’s death. And if Owen had died and my car was off to the side of the road…they’d put two and two together. Surely, right?
Surely?
And then, as my mind cycled away from the dark thoughts and to the possibility—nay, the likelihood—that Ash would come and rescue me, the door opened.
But no one entered at first.
“I should ask first, as a gentleman does, if I may enter the room of a lady by herself.”
King.
I’d never met the man. I didn’t even know what he looked like. I sure didn’t know what he sounded like.
But I knew it instantly. I knew he was here. I knew it wasn’t Crush or anyone else.
No one else could have spoken with such certain arrogance. No one else could have both sounded polite and yet come across as menacing. No one else could have sounded sophisticated and suave but carry the weight of a murderer and criminal.
And then he entered.
I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t expect an older man with blond hair down to his shoulders. He looked more like a surfer than a crime lord.
But here we were.
And then I looked a little bit closer and saw something that only careful note could see.
King looked exhausted.
Worried.
Fearful, even.
