“Do tell,” I say, walking beside him as I enjoy his scent and presence.
I’ll never take it for granted, not ever.
“Hastings’ father is Ryder Adams,” he says.
I trip at his words, and he twists quickly to catch me. Unfortunately, it costs him as he pulls his stitches, and I see his wince as he holds me against his chest.
“I buried the lead again, huh, Princess?” he asks, lips twitching as I gaze up at him.
“Big time,” I breathe. “Are you okay?”
“I moved too quickly. I didn’t hurt anything too badly,” he says.
Choosing to believe him, even though I’ll force him to show me his stitches later, I nod.
“Do you think she recognized you?” I ask. “Hastings acted really oddly the entire time we were at the store. None of youwere acting in a way to make her think I wasn’t safe with you, so I don’t understand her intense reaction.”
“I bet she recognized the patches,” Lore says. “I removed my President patch when I started to stalk Lyker and his men, but my club patch remains on my cut.”
The gas station cleared out in the time I went to the restroom, and it feels a little eerie. I glance around to see if something is out of place, yet nothing is. Cars pass by the gas station, and it seems it’s just one of those things that happens when people all get done at the same time.
“Are you going to tell Ryder about his daughter?” I ask. “Sometimes, people are running for a reason, Lore.”
All I can remember is how my brother’s world and mine kept colliding, no matter the lengths I went to hide from him. No matter who the person is, they deserve their privacy.
“Not yet,” Lore says, feeling the full force of my feelings. “It’s not any of my business for now. I’ll decide when it needs to be, though. His daughter went missing six years ago, Marie. Ryder thought she’d been picked up by auction hunters. He’s close enough to two different auction houses, so it’s a possibility.”
Oh.Shit. This is information I didn’t have before.
“Why do you think she wouldn’t want to go home?” I ask softly.
“Shame?” Lore suggests. “I met her when she was a snot-nosed teenager. Ryder and she were always butting heads. Her mom died when she was two, and Ryder did the best he could. The older she got, the less they could find in common. Hastings can change a tire, put together a motorcycle that’s just deconstructed, but she didn’t want any part of it. She may not think she can go back, or maybe something happened. I have no idea.”
“Shit,” I whisper, watching as he pays for gas and begins to pump it. “I have an odd feeling, Lore. Do you feel it? I don’t know if it’s because it’s so empty all of a sudden or what.”
“I feel it,” he mutters. “You have great instincts. I just need another minute to top off, Princess. Be my eyes.”
I turn around slowly, searching for danger I don’t see.
“Done. Time to go, Marie. Hurry up.”
I move instinctively behind Lore on the motorcycle, and get my helmet clipped just as the sound of bikes comes tearing up the highway. They’re far enough for us to outrun them, and I wrap my arms around Lore’s waist as he guns the bike. My heartbeat thumps as he gets onto the highway, leaving behind whoever was behind us.
I remember quite clearly what Ransom told me about other bikers, and I cling to Lore as we put lots of space between ourselves and that gas station. I’ll gladly sit on the back of this motorcycle until my tailbone falls asleep if it keeps us safe.
I shouldn’t need a bathroom break for a while.
Chapter Fifteen
Marie
We arrive in Black Hills after one more break in between, and my ass is completely asleep. The view has been incredible though, all craggy mountains and dips. It makes me want to go exploring, once my ass decides to stop hurting.
“Do you want me to massage your ass? Or, I could give you that spanking you deserve,” Lore says loudly just before he turns off the motorcycle.
The words ring in the air and my cheeks heat as a throat clears. Lore chuckles under his breath as he pulls off his helmet, though he leaves on his neck gaiter.
While news does travel, Ryder doesn’t know that Lore is supposed to be dead. The bike itself is a pretty big indicator of who my alpha is, though only to Ryder. There aren’t any replicas of the motorcycles he makes, and he’s likely to remember it’s one of his.
