Heather—
My phone goes off while I’m at my apartment with Tucker, picking up more clothes. It’s tempting to take a shower in my own bathroom, but I know I need to get back to the clubhouse, grateful we were allowed to leave at all. I hate that Cody didn’t make it back last night, but when I heard they were all being held in jail, I freaked out. I was assured the charges were being dropped, and they’d be released soon. I can’t wait to be in his arms again.
Shoving some t-shirts into the duffel on my bed, I push the dresser drawer closed with my hip.
Tucker is in his room, getting his favorite toy train that got left behind.
“Heather,” Gigi calls out from the living room.
I’m glad she came with us. Even with Snake back in Texas, I’ve still been apprehensive about returning here alone.
“Yeah?” I call out, grabbing the bag and zipping it up.
She’s suddenly standing in the doorway, and I realize there was urgency in her voice when she called out a second ago.
I frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Wolf just called. We need to get to the clubhouse as soon as possible.”
“Why?” Fear shivers up my spine as a hundred bad reasons flash through my brain. “Is it Cody? Is he hurt?”
“No. Nothing like that. Wolf didn’t want to tell me, but he wanted us to realize the seriousness of it. They’ve lost track ofSnake. The trackers they put on those bikes ended up on a UPS truck.”
“Oh my God. Gigi, he could be anywhere. He could be here.”
She nods. “Come on. We’re going back into lockdown.”
I dash into Tucker’s room, scooping him up. “Come on, honey. We have to go.”
“But Mommy, I didn’t find the rest of my train.” In one hand is his engine, his other little hand is stretched out toward his room as I dash down the hall.
Gigi grabs the duffel I abandoned, and we lock up.
Gigi heads toward the elevator, but I pause, looking toward the numbers above it lighting up. Someone is coming up.
“What is it?” She frowns, then follows my gaze to the numbers.
“Let’s take the stairs.”
She nods, and we move through the metal door.
I cup Tucker’s face. “You must be very quiet, okay?”
“Is it a game?”
“Yes, it’s the sneaking game. No talking. Okay?”
“Okay, Mommy,” he whispers.
We hurry down the stairs as quietly as we can.
Before walking out into the lobby, I peer through the narrow glass window above the handle.
Outside the lobby glass doors, a man stands smoking a cigarette. He’s wearing a Death Heads patch on the back of his cut. It’s not Snake. It must be his brother, Greasy. I peer toward the lot. Two bikes are parked there, but I can’t see Snake.
Gigi looks through the glass, then meets my eyes, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. Snake just rode up in the elevator. We pull back under the metal stairs.
I’m terrified, not just for myself, but for my son and for Gigi. Snake could hurt anyone who stands between him and what he wants. And right now, what he wants is me.
