Page 101 of Peaks and Promises

Grabbing the to-go bag, he slipped his sunglasses back on and gave me a subtle grin before turning to head out the door.

Blinking a few times to bring myself back to reality, I let out a long breath. The noise of the diner resumed. Or maybe the lull had been in my imagination.

Reese’s kiss once again left me breathless, but at least our little practice session had worked. There’d been nothing awkward or forced. And if any of the customers had been watching, they had to be convinced it was real.

The trouble was reminding my heart—and my very riled-up hormones—that it wasn’t.

Axel

Nothing was working.

How could Summer just disappear? I’d reached out to everyone I could think of, but no one had seen her. Not even a rumor of a single mom and her kid moving into a new town. She must have gone farther than I’d thought.

The worst part was, all my club brothers knew. They knew Summer had gone on the run and taken my kid. And they knew I hadn’t been able to find her. The longer it went on, the worse it made me look.

I stared at the ceiling every night, fantasizing about killing her. Putting my hands around her throat and watching her struggle for air until she stopped moving.

But I couldn’t. Stryker would kill me—literally. He didn’t care if she went off and lived her own life—she didn’t know anything that would threaten Mayhem—but she was still his old lady’s daughter. That meant I couldn’t kill her. None of us could. At least, not without permission, which was never going to happen.

And that pissed me off, too.

Although if I got my hands on her, but she didn’t die, I could probably argue my case.

None of it mattered until I found her.

The sun was going down as I rode out. Alone. There was one angle I hadn’t tried. Strictly speaking, I probably should have gone to Stryker first. But this felt like a better-to-ask-for-forgiveness-than-permission situation. Besides, I knew the guy. I wasn’t using a club resource. I was just meeting a guy for a beer.

I parked outside the bar and went in.

Jesse was already there, seated at a table with a half-empty drink. He wore street clothes, which was expected. He wouldn’t have met me in a bar in uniform. Not a good look for a cop.

Especially a dirty cop.

A few heads turned as I walked to his table, but I ignored them.

“Well, holy shit,” he said with a shake of his head. “They did let your sorry ass out.”

I dropped into the chair across from him. “No thanks to you.”

“You know there wasn’t anything I could do.”

“I know. I’m just giving you shit.”

“Are you gonna have a drink?” he asked.

“Yeah. You want another one?”

“Sure.”

I got up and ordered two beers at the bar, then brought them back to our table.

“Thanks.” Jesse lifted his bottle.

I clinked mine against his and took a long drink.

“So, how are you?” He set his beer down. “It’s been a while.”

“Not bad. My parole officer is a dick, but they usually are. How about you?”