“Did you get the text from Prez? He’s calling church. Get to the club ASAP.”
That text must have been what woke me up in the first place. I groan at the thought of moving, let alone leaving without the curvy goddess by my side.
“Yeah,” I say with a cough.
“Do you have any more words other thanyeah?”
“Fuck off,” I grunt.
Rogue laughs. “That’s more like it. See you soon.”
“I’ll be there. Just gotta do something real quick.”
“Prez doesn’t like waiting,” he warns.
“I’ll be there,” I repeat.
“Okay, got it. You’re so grumpy in the morning,” he mutters.
I roll my eyes and hang up on him, though I chuckle a bit at our conversation. We annoy the shit out of each other sometimes, but we’re MC brothers at the end of the day. I trust him with my life.
Wiping a hand down my face, I massage my eyes and temples, then take a deep breath. I need to check on my woman before I dip out for church.
I slink out of the car and across the parking lot, peering into the window of room ten. My heart drops to discover it empty, but my curiosity is peaked when I see a note on the edge of the neatly made bed. The piece of paper is folded in half, with a message on the front flap:To my stalker.
A smirk pulls at my lips and I shake my head. Of course, she saw me. She’s a badass warrior who isn’t going to make this easy on me.
I pick the lock of the flimsy door in no time and let myself into the tiny room, beelining toward the note. Opening the paper, I read the two-word message my feisty little goddess left for me:
FUCK. OFF.
The font is bubbly and cheery, with hearts decorating the page. She must have enjoyed her little joke, which makes me want her all the more. She’s not going to give in so easily, but neither am I.
Looking around the room, I try to pick up on any clues as to who she is or where she’s headed. I’m about to give up when I see a few scraps of paper in a trash can next to the sink. I pluckthem out and spread the torn pieces out on the bed like a puzzle. Luckily, it doesn’t take me too long to put it back together.
I’m staring at a black and white printed picture of Jackson Marcus, the President of the Sons of Destruction. Why the hell would she have this? It’s a poor quality picture that’s printed in black and white at the top of a sheet of printer paper, but I can still make out his ugly mug.
Below Jackson’s picture, his full name, date of birth, and home address are listed. There are several handwritten notes that are harder to read. One of them looks like a pros and cons list. “Con: I’ve never met him and don’t know how he’d react. Pro: He never knew I existed, so maybe he’ll be happy to meet me. Con: He’s on the other side of the country. Pro: He’s on the other side of the country.”
Could this be his daughter? There was a rumor going around that Jackson recently became a dad, but I thought it was a newborn. It makes more sense that he has an adult daughter who came to find him.
If he’s her father, why the fuck did she end up at the auction house last night? Surely a father wouldn’t sell his own daughter. As soon as I think the words, I know they’re inaccurate. Jackson is a nasty, greedy, violent son of a bitch who only cares about drugs, money, and his club, in that order. Jesus Christ. My girl has been through so much more shit than I realized.
While heartbreaking, this information is exactly what I need to track her down. I dig my phone out of my pocket, poised to call an old military buddy who now works in private security. When I look at my screen, I see two missed calls from Rogue and a text from Reaper. Fuck, I need to get to church.
I snap a photo of the pieced together paper with Jackson’s info and send it off to Kai with a brief text explaining I need to track down his daughter. He texts back a question mark, and I reply letting him know I’ll explain later. Most people would needmore of an explanation before investigating, but Kai knows me. I wouldn’t ask him to use his resources as a PI or security officer if it wasn’t important.
An hour later, I’m finally out of the all-club meeting with the blessing of the Prez to go after my girl. Once I explained who she is, Reaper agreed we need her on our side. I don’t just want to pump her for information, though. I want to keep her forever and pump her full of…
Calm down, dickhead, I chastise myself. I can’t be getting hard for her when I don’t even know her name. My cock disagrees.
My phone rings right on time.
“Kai,” I greet. “Whatcha got for me?”
“Won’t lie, not a lot. Who is this woman?”
“That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me,” I deadpan.
