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Storm drummed his fingers on the table. “I told you, I’ve got eyes on her. It’s about all I can do, brother.”
“Cameras?” My nostrils flared.
“Not in her bedroom or bathroom. On the exterior. On the doors and windows, and the living room and kitchen. She doesn’t know about them, but Grizz knows better. If she prances around naked, he’ll delete them.”
“After jerking off to her!”
Storm shrugged. “Guess that’s possible, but he’s not a dick, man. He respects you.”
“Shit,” I hissed. “Madeline couldn’t convince her to come back?”
He looked down at his wedding band and touched it. “No. Angel is sick with worry. I don’t like her being upset.” He lifted his steely gaze to mine. “She doesn’t need this kind of stress with the baby and all.”
“I’m sorry.” I blew out a breath. “Will you help me take out the enforcer? Without me getting life behind bars.”
“All we can do is try. But don’t forget, you got yourself in here. That’s not okay with me.” He sighed, shaking his head. “You’re going to have to deal with any fallout that comes from this.”
“I know.” The only fallout I cared about was with Tara. Fuck, I prayed she hadn’t written me off. I wouldn’t blame her if she had.
If Roja wrote me off, I might as well never see the light of day again and just rot in hell.
2
Hero
THE NAME OF the Hunter’s enforcer was Rudy Dutra. Since he’d arrived at county, the motherfucker bragged about all the women he’dtakenby force. My cellmate told me some of Rudy’s stories. Each word fueled the fire ravaging my soul. Increased my thirst for blood and retribution. Not only for my Roja but for Ava and every woman assaulted by Rudy fucking Dutra.
The bitch of it all was, I wouldn’t have the pleasure of spilling Rudy’s blood all over the concrete floor. Wouldn’t get to drain the life out of him with my bare hands. Wouldn’t get the pleasure and satisfaction I desperately needed to exact violence on him—just as he had with dozens of women.
No, the fucker wouldn’t experience an ounce of pain when his life ended. Fuck it burned me up. Anything else would be too goddamn humane.
“The bastard got off on their struggling and crying.” My cellmate, Ryder, shook his head. “He’s one sick fuck.”
Prone on my bunk, I raised my hand. “Enough.” There was only so much shit I could handle regarding the enforcer. The very thought of him reminded me of how he attacked Tara. Rage exploded in me, then sadness tamped out the anger because I missed her like crazy.
But I sure as hell didn’t want Storm bringing her here, so I’d just have to wait.
Ryder nodded as he paced the length of the cell. This seemed to be a routine for him. We all had our nervous habits. I’d just suck up my annoyance, even if it felt like the walls were closing in on me.
“Sorry. I’m pissing you off again, aren’t I?”
I opened one eye when I heard the quiver in his voice. “Yes. But I’m not going to hurt you.”
Ryder wiped his hands down the sides of his orange jumpsuit like he’d been sweating. He was a young guy. Nineteen. In for assault with a deadly weapon: his fist. It got him a year in the county jail, which was almost over.
The young dude hadn’t told me the whole story, nor had I asked. Too much on my mind to give a rat’s ass. All my thoughts were on the enforcer and tomorrow night.
And Tara.
When Storm was here a few days ago, he’d told me he’d get what I needed to send Rudy Dutra to hell. I wasn’t sure how Grizzly had done it, but he’d located Rudy’s mom and sister in St. Paul, a couple of hours east of the club. Grizzly was a genius with computers. He could find almost anything.
When Angel’s brother Toby was in town, he spent time teaching Grizzly about security systems and other shit. I might be the club’s Sergeant at Arms—the head of security, and the Prez’s personal bodyguard—but I wasn’t a whizz with techie stuff. I was old school. Used my fists and Ruger-57 to take care of business. It was why I had Grizzly working with me. He made sure the club had the latest and greatest while I sat back and did it the old fashioned way. We made a good pair.
I scrubbed my hands over my face, exhaling as I stared at the concrete ceiling. Every night I thought of Tara and the short amount of time we’d spent together. After weeks of flirting with her, dreaming of her, I’d finally gotten her. Now all I could do was relive the only day we spent together in myveryvivid imagination. The day after AJ’s funeral…
I squeezed the top of my pounding head. My mouth felt pasty, full of cotton. What time was it? What day was it? Did I miss the arms run to Canada?
Who the fuck was in my bed?
