Page 38 of Ink

“We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is not available. Please leave your name and nu—” I hang up, not bothering to leave a message and try again. It goes straight to voicemail.

Fuck.

“I’m going to head over to the motel and see what’s up.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“Nah, stay and actually open the shop. I’ll let you know what’s goin’ on once I figure it out.”

“Alright,” Gage says reluctantly. “Whatever it is, don’t be too hard on her. I don’t think she’s had the easiest life, and it seems like a rough time.”

My jaw clenches at Gage thinking it’s his place to let me know that as I turn on my heel to grab my cut out of my room. Does he think I can’t fucking see that something is going on?

It’s not his place. It will never be his goddamn place.

I pull out of the back alley onto the main street without bothering to look if anyone was coming and gun it straight to the motel. I get there in half the time, parking my bike right next to a Pontiac Grand Am that looks like it’s on its last leg. Sutton never flat out told me it was hers, but from the few times I dropped her off and scoped out the parking lot, that’s the only car that looks like it hasn’t moved.

Doesn’t hurt that it also looks like a giant pile of shit that doesn’t start.

Sauntering up to the door, I whip it open, listening to it crack against the exterior brick that is chipping away.

“Yo, what the fuck’s your problem?” The sleazebag behind the front desk jumps to his feet.

My lip curls up in disgust as I take in the dirty bandage with old blood stains that’s wrapped around his hand. This must be the guy Adduci fucked up.

“I need a room number. Female. Blue and black hair. Big hazel eyes. About this tall.” I raise my hand to just below my shoulders, exactly where she comes up to me.

His eyes narrow as he slams his good palm on the counter. “Look buddy, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but⁠—”

“Not your buddy.”

“But you don’t get to come up in here, demandin’ shit like you own the joint.”

“Asked you a simple question. This doesn’t need to be difficult.”

“I’m thinkin’ it does ‘cause you thinkin’ we just give handouts here isn’t gonna fly.”

My lips curl into a mocking smile as I place my hands on my hips, causing my cut to bunch up, the butt of my gun visible just enough that I know he sees it. A slow smirk takes over my face as I watch his eyes move from my waist up to the Dirty Devils club patch on my cut to the one percenter right underneath it.

I’m full-on grinning as I watch everything click in his stupid fuckin’ head.

“Problem?”

I can see the internal battle going on in his head right now. He doesn’t want to tell me, but also doesn’t want the hell I’d bring into his already shitty life.

“Down the hall. Third door on the right,” he mutters, easing himself back into the chair.

“Good man.” I smirk, rapping my knuckles on the counter as I walk past.

I take long strides to eat up the short distance. With every step, my body grows increasingly more and more tense. The feeling that something isn’t right tingles across my body.

Her door is closed. Nothing looks broken.

I knock lightly three times with my fist. I place my hands in my front pockets and look down both ends of the hallway, trying to get my bearings of the place as I wait for her answer.

Nothing.

“Sutton?” I call, stepping up to the door as I knock again.