I grabbed the key fob and hit the unlock button. The lights flashed.
Oh... he thought he was in a war over there... well... war was just declared.
I climbed in, yes, it was lush, yes, I loved her, and yes, her name was Mrs. Betty.
I started it up and heard a throaty roar and couldn’t help the smile that formed on my face.
Then I put the SUV in reverse, backed out, put it in drive, and had one destination in mind.
And in fifteen minutes, I pulled through the opening to the clubhouse forecourt and slammed on the brakes.
I cut the car off and climbed down.
Then I stomped toward the front doors.
“Woman on a mission, who pissed you off, darlin’?” I heard a man ask.
He had blonde hair pulled back in a bun. I glared at him.
He tossed his hands up and then stepped toward the door and opened it for me.
“Thanks,” I snapped as I walked by him and into the clubhouse.
It was different from my dad’s in the sense that it was a giant warehouse of sorts.
Eyes came to me.
Brows were raised.
“Can we help you?” a woman asked.
I looked at her and said, “I want Ripper. And I want him fucking now.”
Her eyes went wide, and her face paled, “I’m sorry. Did you say, Ripper?”
I nodded, “Oh yeah.”
She winced, “Umm, well, you look like a sweet girl... perhaps you have the name wrong?”
I narrowed my eyes at her, and thankfully, I had my phone in my hand.
I brought it up, scrolled to his name, and pressed call.
It rang once, twice, a third time, then I heard him, “Yeah, baby?”
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Shed. Why?” he answered.
“Well, you’d better wipe whatever blood is on your hands off and get your ass into the clubhouse. Now.”
“Fuck,” he said. “Be right there.”
I hung up and lowered my phone.
She lifted a brow, “So, I’m Lena. I’m Storm’s, ol’ lady. And you are?”
Before I could answer her, a door at the back of the clubhouse banged open, and he was walking through it with a rag in his hands that was getting redder by the minute.
