“Who is it?” Riveria moves—well, more like glides, as this woman is all sensual and sexual grace—to her desk.
“He wouldn’t have used his actual name to get in here.” Hayes stalks over to the desk and looks over her shoulder at the computer monitor. “Pull up the security footage.”
“This could take time to find him entering—and the how and with who—if I don’t know who to look for,” she warns.
He shoves his hand through his hair, the slight dampness of it making it stick up.
I’ve never seen Hayes like this. Even when we were younger, he always approached crisis situations with a level-headed, pragmatic approach that would’ve only been honed further as a Marine.
But with the magnitude of the situation and what it could mean that Razor was here, in a club where he absolutely should not be in…
Hayes is reacting to the threat; not against him, but for what this could mean for me.
Worst-case scenario is that people know I’m back, know that he’s been touching forbidden territory, and enemies are bandingtogether to return me to Guerilla and to ensure that Hayes meets the same punishment as Grinder.
But that’s not what’s happening. Right?
Panic rips through me, and I jerk to my feet from the sofa, unsteady on my stilettos. Then I bolt for the door.
I make it there but don’t get the door all the way open, because a strong hand plants on it and slams it shut. I’m spun around and pinned to the door, and Hayes’ blue eyes are tumultuous.
He holds his cell to his ear and speaks without taking his eyes off me. “Digits, go through Hedon’s security footage with your program to find Razor.” He pauses and listens. “Yes, that’s the reason for Leeva’s extraction. I need to find out who let him in. Once you have the timestamp he arrived, reverse trace his route here through the CCTVs if you can.”
He disconnects the call and pockets his cell with his gaze still locked with mine. “You are not running.”
“Hayes—”
“You are.Not. Running.”
“He could be here because of me.” I tilt my chin, refusing the tears that want to push forth. “I won’t be the cause of your death.”
“You. Are. Not. Guerilla’s,” he snarls.
“Um, if I may?”
“What, Riveria?” he barks without taking his eyes off me while he continues to pin me to the door.
“Could this Razor guy be the one who was responsible for the fake accusations against Hedon and the search warrant with fabricated evidence?”
“Razor isn’t that strategic.” When Hayes sees I’m not going to try to run—at least, for the time being—he pulls me away from the door, wraps his arm around my waist. “Razor is a gun, a grunt. He follows orders. He’s damn good at following orders,but he’d never be the mastermind behind the attack against Hedon.”
Unease and dread swirl in my gut. “Guerilla could be, though…”
“Who is this Guerilla asshole?” She looks between us.
“My cunt of a brother. Blood brother,” Hayes clarifies for her, so she’s aware he’s more than just a fellow member of the MC.
She considers with her fingers hovering over her keyboard. “So where is this cunt of a blood brother?”
“I don’t know,” he grits, looking back at me. “But you’re right. This smells exactly like the shit he’d do to hit at me. Never coming directly at me, but still hitting me where it hurts.”
“If that is the case”—I swallow hard against my dry throat—“then we have to assume he’s back. And knows about Hedon. Probably knows about me.”
“We don’t know that, little dove.” He pulls me tighter into his side.
Relentless energy and fear run through me. “Why would he be back and strike at you now, if not for me? You said it yourself that you haven’t seen him since I ran over a decade ago. And now that I’m back…” I’m starting to hyperventilate, thinking of all the possibilities. “He might have known I was Kathryn Wentzell but couldn’t get to me before. But then, when I returned…”
My words cut off as my breathing turns shallow and rapid.
