Page 8 of Diary of a Biker Queen

The trembling only intensified. “I can do it,” he eventually got out, his words barely more than a mumble.

But his hands trembled so much I pushed them away. “Or you can just let me do it because my fingers are still working properly.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

I didn’t want to hear his apologies. I wasn’t ready for them. Just hours before I’d had Nyah in my arms, Lynx watching the two of us, and I’d thought I’d had everything I wanted.

Only to find out the two of them had been working together behind my back, orchestrating the whole thing. I was angry, but more than anything, I was fucking hurt. And once again reminded that I had nobody. I never fucking had.

Except Isabella. “Shit!” I threw the fresh shirt I’d found for Lynx at him, hoping that now he’d had a moment he could at least dress himself. I frantically called my sister, cursing when she didn’t pick up the phone. What time was it there? It was night here in Scotland, but my brain was too scrambled to work out the time difference. Would she be in school? I needed to slow down and think, but my panic was overwhelming.

“Luca?” Nyah asked. “Say words. What’s wrong?”

Apart from fucking everything?

“My sister,” I choked out. “It’ll be hours before I can get back to her. He’ll get to her.”

Dax shook his head. “It’ll be hours before your dad can get to her either. He’s got to make the same flight we do.”

He didn’t know my father. Or his connections. “No, he’ll have men on their way out there now. I broke the truce we had, where he left her alone. Shit!” I paced the driveway, trying to call Mrs. Wilson, the elderly woman who I’d left to care for Isabella. Now it was me who couldn’t get his fingers to work properly, and the phone slipped from my hands. I scrambled around in the dark, searching for it on my knees, fighting off the urge to scream. But below that, I wanted to fucking cry. I hadn’t cried since I was a kid, and to do so now would be so incredibly weak.

Isabella loved her new life. She loved Mrs. Wilson and her school, and she had friends her own age for the first time ever.

And I was about to ruin all of that for her. Why the fuck had I said Nyah’s baby was mine? I could have just said nothing. Let her take the heat herself.

And yet I knew in my heart, I cared about her too much to do that. Fuck my stupid bleeding heart. Fuck these people. Fuck caring.

Nyah caught my hand as I stood. “What do you need?”

I stared down at her and her dark eyes that seemed so honest when she gazed back at me. Like she actually truly cared, even though she’d more than proven tonight she didn’t. But I had nobody else. “I need somewhere safe for my sister. That’s fucking it. He’ll kill me as soon as we’re back on American turf. I don’t care about that. All I care about is her.”

Nyah’s mouth flattened into a concerned line.

But it was Lynx, who’d apparently snapped out of his adrenaline comedown enough to put on clothes, who picked up his phone. “I’m calling War.”

The president of the Slayers Motorcycle Club. A man I wasn’t exactly on the friendliest of terms with, and who was probably going to tell Lynx to go jump off a cliff before he helped me.

I opened my mouth to argue, but Lynx was already walking away, his voice clipped and stressed as he explained what had happened. He glanced back at me and then held the phone out. “Prez wants to talk to you.”

I reluctantly took the phone. “War.”

He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “How long do I have to get her?”

I swallowed thickly. “Hours at best. He’s probably already got men headed there.”

“Can you call her? Get her to a safe place, somewhere they won’t immediately be able to find her? Buy me and my guys some time. We can get to her, but if your old man already has people on their way…”

As much as I desperately wanted War to go get her, I knew the man had kids of his own. Little ones. And so did a lot of the men in his club. Once upon a time, I wouldn’t have cared about that. It wouldn’t have even crossed my mind.

But the last year, of living in that tiny house with Mrs. Wilson and my sister, had changed me. It had softened something inside me to the point I could no longer just ruthlessly send an entire club full of men into a war I’d just caused.

Fucking hell. It had been so much easier when I hadn’t cared.

I clenched the phone harder. “If you do this, you’re picking a side. You’ll be just as much at war with my father as I am.”

War breathed heavily down the line. “What’s the alternative? I sit back and do nothing, and your father’s men drag your sister back to her husband to be raped over and over again? Lynx told me Carlos married her off to someone twice her age.”

Lorenzo was well more than twice Isabella’s age.