“Another MC? Are you out of town?”
“No, they’re local. Which is a good thing, since transportation is still a bit of an issue.”
“The Exiled Reapers are the only MC in Atlantic Shores. Where the hell are you?”
I threw my hand into the air. “I guess you learn something new every day. There’s at least one more because I’m at their clubhouse right now. I thought you guys had referred me, but maybe it was a coincidence and they saw one of my flyers.” I shrugged, looking at my watch. They wanted dinner at 6:00, and we had about five more minutes. “Can we talk about this later? They’ll be in here any minute.”
“Please baby, stop and listen to me for a second. This is very important. What’s the name of the club?”
I rolled my eyes. “The Diablos. Want me to send you their contact info? Then y’all can meet up and you can ask them all these questions.”
“Fuck! Lexie, I need you to get out of there, right this fucking second. Just walk out that door and don’t look back.”
I chuffed. “I haven’t even served the food yet. And then I have to clean up and—“
“Trust me on this. I don’t know how you ended up there or what game these guys are playing, but you are not safe. Now get the fuck out.”
“Not safe? Of course I am. I mean, sure, these guys are a little… edgy. But Jordan’s here. He hasn’t let anything happen to me so far. Although, he has been gone for a while…” Where had hegone? If he was still taking a bathroom break, he might need to see a doctor.
“Jordan? How the fuck is the prospect involved in this?”
“I needed a ride. My, uh, van is still in the shop.”
“Fuck,” he swore. “Do you have his keys?”
I laughed. “No. But even if I did, have you seen the size of his truck? I drive a Vespa. I don’t even want to think of the damage I’d cause in that thing. Plus I doubt I’d even reach the pedals.”
“You need to take this seriously. You’re in danger.”
“Okay, and you need to stop overreacting.”
“Overreacting?” I heard him take a deep breath. “Lexie,” he began in a lower, but more serious tone. “What did Tracker say when he was bleeding out from a stab wound?”
I shivered as the image of the bloody gash in his side flashed across my eyes. “Poor guy. Is he out of the hospital yet?”
“Lexie!” Bear shouted. “What did he say? When he thought he only had moments to live, what word did he choose to say?”
“He said Di—“ My breath caught and my heart thudded in my chest. “Well, crap.”
“Exactly. He wasn’t seeing the Devil, baby. He was telling us who stabbed him. The Diablos.”
My stomach swirled, and I backed away before I hurled on the food. I might be in a life-or-death situation, but I’d worked hard on that meal. I took several deep breaths and grabbed a knife from the drawer.
“You need to get out of there.”
“Yeah, I’m with you now. I’ve got to find Jordan. I got him into this mess, so I can’t leave him here.”
“Jordan can take care of himself. If he’s not already part of this, the fact that he hasn’t come back might mean he can’t.”
“You mean they might have ki—“ I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t think it. “Knocked him out?” I asked hopefully.
“Yeah, we’ll go with that. Ping me your location.”
I flipped to the map app and did as he asked. “Maybe we’re freaking out over nothing.” They did need a caterer. The state of their kitchen proved that. No way anyone cooked in here on a regular basis.
“I’m not supposed to tell you about club business, but fuck it. We’ve got a rat. That’s how Tracker was stabbed inside our own clubhouse.”
I snorted. That was hardly a state secret.
