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Reload kept holding the straw to her mouth, so she drank, until it was just ice remaining.
A few minutes later she started to feel woozy.
“I don’t feel so good,” she murmured. The last thing she remembered was Quick looking over her head at Reload and smiling. And then Reload’s response.
“You roofie her drink?” he asked with a chuckle, his voice sounding thick and distorted to her spinning head.
****
Reno sat at the bar in the DK clubhouse. He was nursing a whisky and ignoring everyone else when the door banged against the wall as it was flung open. Reno watched the reflection in the mirror behind the bar as Quick and Reload trouped in. Quick had a woman thrown over his shoulder. Reno’s gaze moved over the perfectly rounded ass so well outlined by the tight fitting black skirt. Judging by the way her head lolled from side to side, Reno assumed she was unconscious. He took in her long dark hair and wondered if this could be the elusive Skylar they’d all been trying to track down for months. She sure had been one hell of a bitch to find. Being able to elude them for all this time, he’d have to give her credit. She’d turned out to be one smart cookie.
Reno continued to watch the show in the mirror, not wanting to turn around and get involved. Quick stopped in front of Growler, their President, and Rat, their Vice President, who were sitting at a table talking and enjoying a bottle of tequila.
Quick tossed the girl to the carpet at their feet. “I brought you a present.”
The two men dropped their eyes to the woman crumpled on the floor.
“Well, my, my, you certainly did,” Growler replied, taking in the sight of the woman unconscious at his feet. He nodded toward the table. “Sit down and have a well-deserved drink.”
After they sat, Growler tipped up the bottle over two more glasses that a prospect hurried over to provide, carefully stepping around the woman passed out on the floor. Growler’s eyes strayed to her again, and then he let out a sharp whistle.
“Reno, get over here and take care of this.”
Reno tossed back his drink and stood. As usual, they always left the dirty work to him.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Shades pulled the phone away from his ear and squatted down in the gravel yard of the Gulf Coast Chapter, feeling like the ground had just shifted under his feet. Feeling like his whole world had just spun out of his control.
They had Skylar.
The fucking DKs had Skylar.
Holy fucking shit.
He’d fucked up. Christ, had he fucked up. He’d promised her he’d take care of it, that he’d keep her safe. But he’d done nothing to end the DK threat to her. Instead he’d handled his own club’s problems first, always putting his club first. Always putting her problem to the back burner. When we get back from New Orleans, babe. When we get home, babe. After I make this last run, babe. I’ll take care of it, I promise. All bullshit. It didn’t matter that he’d meant to take care of it. He hadn’t. And now she was in the hands of his enemy, and it was all his fault.
He felt his chest tighten and thought for a moment he was going to be sick.
Ghost looked down at his brother, wondering what the hell that call was about. Shades looked shell-shocked. Reaching down, he pulled the cell phone from Shades hand and put it to his ear.
“Who is this?” he barked into the phone.
Boot’s voice came across. “Ghost. He okay?”
“No, he’s not fuckin’ okay. What the hell is going on?”
“Christ, Ghost. Shit. It’s bad. We got a call from the DKs. They told us to forget about looking for that chick anymore. Said they had her.”
“Skylar?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Tink checked with her uncle. Skylar was at some open house with some other broad. When the homeowners returned, they found the other lady collapsed on the floor. She’d taken a bad blow to the head.”
“Is she…is she okay?”
