I paced the room. “Yes, and I need someone to come and let me out or I’m going to murder him in his sleep.”
“Well, if I had the key, I’d totally come up there and free you, but I don’t.”
“Shit,” I hissed.
“I can storm into the meeting and demand he give it to me, though,” she offered.
“No, that’s okay. But will you help me hide his body in the morning?”
“Absolutely. Just let me know where and when.”
“Thanks.”
I hung up and dropped my phone on the nightstand. I was emotionally drained and exhausted, so I decided to lie down for a minute.
What I didn’t expect was to wake up in the dark with my man sitting in the chair by the window staring at me like some weird ass crazy person.
“Fifty-two minutes,” he said, and I sat up.
“What?”
Booger awoke beside me, stretching before moving to his cat tower and falling back to sleep. So much for a united front.
“I didn’t know where you were for fifty-two minutes,” Doom continued. “Technically, you weren’t where you were supposed to be for a fuck of a lot longer than that, but I ‘lost’ you for fifty-two minutes.”
“I was fine.”
He cocked his head. “Were you fine, Lyric?”
“Yes.”
“Or were you alone in a building with the old ladies of two of the most dangerous bikers in Savannah?” he bellowed.
“Who told you?”
“No one fuckin’ told me. Alamo pulled the surveillance tapes. And this brings up the second problem. No one fuckin’ told me,” he bellowed.
I relaxed a little. My girls kept the code. This was good.
“Lyric. Why the fuck were you in the salon with Tammy and Lulu?”
“We were making a peace treaty.”
He dragged his hands down his face. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”
“I’d never kid about a peace treaty.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ woman, I’m holding on by a thread here, do not make light of any of this.”
“You locked me in our room as though I’m your chattel, so how about you start by apologizing, Lincoln? Then, maybe we can have an adult conversation about what happened today, instead of you just sitting there pounding your chest like some Neanderthal, demanding answers and giving me orders!”
“I locked you in so I’d know where you were because you have a tendency to fuckin’disappear.” He yelled, “disappear,” and I scowled.
“Okay, well, if you’re not going to apologize, I’d like you to leave.”
“I’m not leavin’, Lyric.” He rose to his feet and started to undress, heading to the bathroom. He managed to get his T-shirt off.
“Better grab a blanket, then. You’re not sleeping here.”
