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Trax twisted his lips tensely. “But she didn’t fucking know it, Saint.”
“Gonna give you fair warning. You got two seconds to back the fuck off,” Kase warned.
His threat only fueled Trax’s rage, and he pressed deeper against Kase’s neck. Trax wasn’t about to back down, but the choice was made for him when Rourke hooked his arms and pulled him away. He whispered, “Pull it back, man, you don’t want this.”
Kase straightened but made no move forward. Sucker punch was not his style. Rourke loosened his grip, and Trax yanked his arms from his hold, spinning around and glaring at him. There weren’t too many people he trusted more than the men standing in front of him, but he took it as a personal betrayal.
“You couldn’t come and get me, asshole?” Trax shouted.
Kase drew in a deep breath, eyeing Trax with a harsh glare. “We fucking decided.” His statement was interrupted by Rourke, who stepped forward.
“No fucking we about this.” He pointed between Kase and Saint. “You guys decided, not us. Me and Gage wanted to get Trax. Asked fucking both of you and got shot down.” Rourke shook his head in disgust.
It didn’t calm Trax down, but at least he had Rourke backing him in this fucked-up scene.
Kase snarled. “You got a problem with how I run my club?”
Trax stepped forward, but it was Rourke again who spoke first. “The way you handled his girl? Yeah, I gotta a fucking problem, Kase. She was scared out of her fucking mind, and you fucking fed off that shit.”
Saint moved forward. “Let’s all calm down, all right?” He turned to Trax. “We could have…” He paused. “We should have handled it with you here.”
It was too late for an apology or regrets. The damage had been done.
“Everybody get in the office, and we’ll sort this shit out,” Kase said.
The last thing he intended to do was go anywhere with Kase. His only mission was to find Cheyenne. He backed up as his brothers watched him.
He turned to Kase. “You fucked up.” He pointed at him and held his stare before throwing the side door open and rushing to his bike.
She couldn’t have gotten too far, and for the sake of his brothers’ lives, she better be in one piece when he found her.
Chapter Eleven
“I need to exercise more.” Cheyenne heaved her bag over her shoulder. The weight caused her shoulder to throb. “And I need to clean out my purse.” She’d always kept everything in there. “Great, now I’m talking to myself.” She scanned the streets. It was quiet but eerie. It wasn’t the worst section of town, but not her first choice to walk alone in. Most of the retail shops had closed for the night. The lights streamed through the street in a soft glow. The only light coming from an opened business was the corner diner at the end of the road.
If she had to guess, she had at least two more miles to go before she was home. She considered calling a cab or Uber, but the thought of stopping had her reconsider. She was going to kill Macy when she got home. The girl was forever forgetting to charge her phone. All seven calls had gone straight to voicemail.
A car came down the road, and oddly, slowed as it got closer. She double stepped and glanced over. It was too dark to make out the driver and passenger, but from the profile, they were men. Oh hell. She kept forward but glanced back to see brake lights at the corner. If they made a U-turn, she’d book it again. Her legs trembled at the thought. No more running.
She noticed the single light before she heard the roar of the engine. As it got closer, she realized the men in the car were the least of her worries. She moved closer to the building in hopes of blending but quickly realized the motorcycle was slowing down.
Shit.
She darted between the cars and crossed the street. Her feet pounded the concrete, and she quickly rushed into the corner shop. The bells jingled over the door, and she stopped at the entrance. She tried to catch her breath while scanning the small diner. There were only a few people, and a waitress approached.
“Are you okay?”
Cheyenne shook her head. “No, some guy is following me.” She was on the verge of tears. There was only so much she could take before she broke down. The waitress rushed toward her.
“Okay, calm down, come in the back with me, and I’ll call the police.” She took Cheyenne’s hand, weaving her through the tables, and headed toward the swinging doors of the kitchen. “Jim, lock the doors.” Chey noticed a heavyset man rush to the doors before she was ushered into the back. They walked through the kitchen and into a small room. It must have been a break room.
“Okay, just sit tight here, and I’ll call the police, okay?” She cupped Cheyenne’s jaw and gave her a soft smile. It was motherly, though the waitress couldn’t have been more than five years older than her.
All she could do was nod. Finally, she’d deal with the cops. It was something she should have done from the very beginning. If she had, she wouldn’t be on the verge of a heart attack in the tiny room.
“I’ll get you a tea to calm your nerves. Stay here, sweetie.”
Cheyenne took a seat in the corner and slumped down. Breathe, just breathe. It’s almost over. She closed her eyes, resting her head back against the wall. As soon as the cops arrived, she was going to tell the detective everything. Every little detail of what happened, including the description of the driver. Maybe there was some kind of protection they could offer against the club. Her mom. She’d go stay with her mom for a while. Not the most convenient or pleasant experience, but anything was better than this.
