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It was a sobering pronouncement and I nodded. Neither of us mentioned that my fate would be similar to Richie’s if Dev had his way.
We both fell silent for a moment and then he asked, “The night you dropped Richie at the bus depot, did he tell you anything? Say anything that stuck out?”
“He told me to get out of town for a few weeks. That’s all.”
I stood up and began to pace across the office and then suddenly ground to a halt. “We made a stop. Before I dropped him off at the bus depot.” I looked at Colt. “I took him to a storage unit in town. He was only in it for a few minutes and then he was back in the truck. I didn’t see what he did when he was in there, though. And he came back empty handed. I thought maybe he was dropping something off for safe keeping, but come to think of it I don’t remember him bringing anything into the unit either.”
“Do you remember which storage unit?” Colt asked.
I thought for a moment and shook my head. “No. I was too caught up in my own thoughts and wasn’t paying attention.”
“But you didn’t leave Waco to get to the unit…”
“No, we didn’t leave Waco.”
“Come on,” he said, heading for the door of the office.
“Where are we going?” I demanded, as I trailed after him.
“We’re looking in your truck to see if Richie left you any information or clues.”
We walked through the clubhouse and out the front door. My truck had been moved from Charlie’s to the clubhouse parking lot.
I dug through my purse for my keys and went to the driver’s side door to unlock it. Grasping the handle, I dragged it open and then leaned across the flat bench seat to unlatch the passenger door.
I roved my hands over the floor of the truck, encountering loose change, but nothing of true value. I lifted myself up, trying to stem the feeling of disappointment. “Did you find anything?”
Colt didn’t reply; he merely arched an eyebrow and held up a silver key—a silver key that no doubt fit into the lock on Richie’s storage unit.
“Colt Weston, you might be my good luck charm.”
We met Reap at a roadside diner on the outskirts of Waco. Reap and Colt sipped watered-down coffee while I consumed a hamburger and fries. I hadn’t eaten anything all day and my stomach had been gnawing itself.
“You want me to do what?” Reap demanded.
“Distract the Iron Horsemen so Mia and I can move through Waco without anyone following us,” Colt repeated.
“A diversion,” I piped up between bites, feeling like a mix between the Hamburglar and a criminal mastermind.
He glared at me but said to Colt, “You don’t want me to go with you?”
“We need to stay under the radar.”
Reap ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You think whatever Richie stole from the Iron Horsemen is in that storage unit.”
“Yup,” Colt said. “But we don’t know which unit.”
“I don’t like you doing this without having someone covering your back,” Reap said.
“I’m covering his back,” I piped up. “I’ve got a pistol.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” A slow smile spread across his face.
“Brother,” Colt said softly. “I know you have my back. I need you to handle protecting the clubhouse right now, and to arrange for a diversion.”
Reap’s eyes glittered with intention and the heaviness of the situation. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll protect them—and I’ll get Boxer on the diversion. He’s good at starting shit.”
“Yeah,” Colt said with a dry chuckle. “He is.”
