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CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
*Kio “K.O.” - Enforcer*
Ifocus on the muffled rove of my tires against the road. Assuming is never ever a good thing. I know because assuming is one of my many weaknesses. Hell for Leather members were the first to restore my faith in humanity. That extends to Lace. Always has. Well before everything went down tonight. Her day has been manic; she could have been upset about any manner of things.
Still, something in my gut insists it has something to do with Jess. Very little fazes Lace. When she gets upset, I pay close attention. That single tear was more than a tear of stress, exhaustion, or disappointment. Those feelings are valid, too, of course, but one of the other men can coddle her. Coddling is not one of my fortes.
No, that tear was wrung out because of something — someone — near and dear to her heart. Had to be.
Following Chaz to our favorite full-throttle spot, even though I threatened to castrate Brodi should he dare take the speed above ten over, I find myself suddenly slowing way down, body on an unplanned autopilot. My focus catches on the closest side street. The one where Jess lives. Eyes locked, my head turns in seemingly in slow motion as we pass.
I slow in the middle of the road and make a U-turn, watching in my side mirrors as both Chaz and Brodi brake then turn around. Never question the motive of another leather. You follow. You support.
Problem is, that might be a terrible idea this time. Hard to relay that in a situation like this, though. The other problem is, Brodi is faster than me, and Lace knows this street. I launch forward and quickly take the turn, but Brodi is already nose to nose with me, Lace waving her arm.
Shit. What the hell am I doing?
I pull off to the side of the road, and Chaz and Brodi follow. Lace hops off so fast before Brodi barely comes to a complete stop.
She stumbles on the dismount, and I nearly fall trying to get the kickstand down in time to get off and catch her. Of course, she catches herself just fine only struggling to unclip her helmet fast enough. She yanks it off her head, blonde hair whipping around her face with the gulf breeze.
“I learned a long time ago from a really good friend—” she pants through desperate, labored breaths “—that sometimes stepping in too soon can be more dangerous than waiting. Please wait. We need more information.”
She has no idea just how right she is. “Was it her?” I ask.
Lace’s shoulders droop. “Yeah.”
My fingers twitch, stiffening in opposition to wanting to curl and pierce my palms.
“Look, you guys aren’t even supposed to be in town yet. This was gonna happen anyway, and you would’ve been in Georgia. What would you have done then, hm?” Lace grabs my hand, stealing the stiffness with a touch. “She works early shift with me tomorrow. We tend to stick together. How about I do a little digging. Okay?”
Teeth grinding, I give her a firm nod, putting my helmet back on. After getting on my bike, I head in the direction from which we came but this time reroute toward the beach to meditate first instead. Let them follow me or not. Their choice.
