I chuckled. “Hey, Ilene.”
She ran her tongue over her top lip. “I got a hankerin’ for some D, babe. You interested?”
I opened my mouth to answer on the affirmative but couldn’t seem to get the words out because I realized, much to my irritation, Ilene was the last bitch I wanted blowin’ me.
Fuck.
Goddamn it all to hell.
I shook my head and her face fell before turning and walking out of the kitchen.
So much for exorcising Indigo.
Jesus.
I took a swig of my beer, pulled my food out of the microwave, and made my way up to my room, the sudden need to smoke at the forefront of my mind. Lucky for me, my club had a shit ton of green relief at our disposal.
I stepped into my closet and grabbed my stash just as my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I contemplated not answering, but it might be Indigo, so I pulled it out and looked at the screen, surprised to see Leo’s name.
“You better not be calling with some lame excuse to get out of doing inventory tomorrow.”
“Some guys have broken in,” Leo whispered.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Walker House. We’re hiding in the pantry.”
“Stay right where you are. I’m on my way.”
I was halfway into the great room when I hung up the call.
“Emergency! I need a crew!” I bellowed, and Rocky, and Wrath didn’t hesitate to follow me out to our bikes. Scrappy was sober enough to join us, so I had him drive one of the club’s delivery vans as the follow vehicle.
I filled the guys in on what I knew, then we fired up and rode out. Not wanting to alert whoever was inside, we parked about a block away, then hoofed it the rest of the way to Walker House.
It took us less than seven minutes from the cabin to the dorms, but we still arrived to find doors kicked in and chaos inside the walls. Kids and adults were rushing around, picking up upturned lamps, chairs, and attempting to clean up broken glass.
“Where’s Leo?” I growled.
A woman about Indigo’s age, stepped toward me, phone in hand. “He’s gone.”
“What the fuck do you mean, he’s gone?”
She held up a finger. “I’m calling 9-1-1.”
“Hang up,” I said.
“Shhh,” she replied, turning away from me.
I grabbed her phone and hung up before the call was completed.
“What the hell are you doing? Give me back my phone,” she demanded.
“No cops,” I said.
“I don’t know why you think you’re in charge here, but you’re not,” she snarled.
“I’m in charge because I know where Leo is,” I said, pulling my phone from my pocket, replacing it with hers.
