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“Go! Go!” she urged, hopping on the back of Kevlar’s bike.
The Macha men quickly rolled out of the alleyway. Casting a glance behind them, Nikita swore at the sight of the Diablos sergeant standing at the back of the dollhouse, a smug grin on his lips. One thing was certain, they couldn’t return to the dollhouse.
Chapter Nineteen
Kevlar
“You’resure you’re all right?” He looked to Doc, who nodded for the third time, annoyance evident in his eyes.
“She’s fine.” Doc smirked and picked up his medical bag.
Kevlar searched Kita’s amber eyes, not believing his brother. The man wasn’t a licensed doctor, after all.He could be wrong.There could be an injury somewhere and she just didn’t know it.
Kita placed a hand over his on her thigh. “I’m not hurt.”
Doc left them alone in the bedroom, sounds from the clubhouse drowning out the click of the door.
“But my father knows where I am.”
Her soft words sent a shock straight to his heart. “How?”
“I don’t know yet.” She sat cross-legged on his bed, wearing a pair of black pants and his white T-shirt. “One of the men we encountered today was the Diablos sergeant. He told me Muerte expects my visit.” She ran both hands through her silky black hair. “I think this is all connected.”
Kevlar moved onto the bed, not giving a damn that he still wore dirty boots. He needed to be near her, breathe her in. “He’s closely following your career.”
“Yes. And now, I believe he’s the one who laid out the Cutthroat’s breadcrumbs for me to follow. He knew I’d eventually get the green light for an investigation.” She leaned against the wall, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “He set it up perfectly.”
“But what about the loose ends? Juliet? The Cutthroats? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Exactly.” She lolled her neck to face him, head resting on the wall. “I can’t put all the pieces together. I need my father to give me the missing ones.”
“But that means—”
“Visiting him in prison, yeah.” She went silent, shoulders sagging.
The severity of her statement knocked the wind out of his lungs. Once he’d found out her parentage, he’d read all about Estevan Morales. From the outside, the man was a shrewd business owner with a loving wife and daughter. The truth more than came out during the trial. Estevan Morales—Muerte in the club—had a dark side to his business dealings.
The homemade chicken and noodles from dinner churned in his stomach merely thinking about the secrets her father kept. Secrets that destroyed their family. Secrets that destroyed her hopes of a normal life.Secrets that destroyed us.
“I swore I never would.” She let out a sad laugh. “But he knew. Somehow, he knew I’d go after MCs like his.” She picked at her thumb cuticle. “So he created the perfect mousetrap.”
Kita crawled off the bed and paced. “Who knows, maybe all the MCs I arrested were under his control.” Her arms flailed in the air. “Have any of my collars been my own, or has my father set them up from prison?” He kept watching her slowly descend into a spiral of all Spanish, face animated the faster she spoke. For ten minutes, he let her vent, fume, and everything in between. Every now and then, he caught a few phrases, but the majority were foreign to him. In the Army, he’d learned the native languages of Iran and Afghanistan. That knowledge didn’t do him any good here and now.
Kita stopped pacing and stood with her hands on her hips, looking lost. He reached over and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to the edge of the bed.
“What can I do to help?”
She smiled wearily and cradled his jaw. “You’re already doing it.”
Her lips closed over his in the next instant. Kevlar’s hands gripped her ass tighter and matched her fervor. Her tongue delicately tangled with his, the taste of coffee lingering in her mouth.
Tugging her onto his lap, Kevlar reveled at the softness of her skin combined with toned muscles beneath her clothes. She’d always been on the muscular side, never sickly skinny. His fingers dug into the flesh on her hips. It was one of his favorite spots to touch. He held complete control over her body here.
“Come with me,” she whispered against his lips.
Easing back, he scanned her face. “Where?”
“To New York. I must see him. Talk to him.” She brushed a hand over his short hair. “And I want you with me.”
