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“Punk, we don’t have time. I can explain on the road.”
“Make time,” he spits through his teeth, his face red with irritation.
With a frustrated cry, I yank my arm free. “Then shut up and listen for once, without being a dick.”
I explain how Cynthia’s last word didn’t sit right with me, how when I saw Trent again, it triggered my suspicions that he was at fault for the embezzlement of the Oldani account, and how I made a rash decision to go with Trent to lunch to get him to fess up while the FBI listened to our conversation through my cell.
“There was no time to explain it to Chase. Trent wasn’t going to confess anything unless I was alone with him, and I wasn’t about to let him get away with what he’d done. The feds are searching for Trent, as well as Piero and his men. Satisfied?”
“Why is Piero looking for him?”
“Because I told him who took his money.”
Punk gawks at me with his mouth hanging open in utter shock. “You sold out Trent? Do you realize how badass you are? That’s the ultimate ‘fuck you’ from a woman scorned.”
“Save your praises for later. We’re wasting daylight. Pack your shit. We have to find Chase.”
“Holy shit!” Punk springs into action, racing across the hall to grab his things.
We check out of the hotel and are in the SUV in less than fifteen minutes. “How long ago did they leave?”
“Right after you left with the fugitive.” He looks at his watch. “The team has a good two to three-hour lead on us.”
I run my trembling hands down my face. “Do we know where they’re staying once they stop?”
Punk turns over the SUV, pulling out onto the road. “Not a clue.”
Tears brim the surface of my eyes. Have my actions wounded Chase too deeply to earn his forgiveness? “I can’t lose him, Punk.”
He gently squeezes my shoulder. “I know. We’ll find him. It’s what our crew is best at, tracking people. And when we find him, you’re going to make him listen to you—I’ll hold him down if need be.”
Tracking!Why didn’t I think of that first?
Digging my phone out of my purse, I click on the crew’s tracking app, the one every member of the MC has as security. Chase is a bright red dot, a beacon to follow.
“He’s heading north on I-fifteen.”
Punk gives me a cheesy grin. “Look at you, taking a page out of your old man’s book.” He reaches over, rumpling my hair. “I’m so proud of you for finally figuring out your shit. You’re going to be so good for my brother. The fucker needs a dose of his own medicine to keep him in line. Never doubted your feelings for him.”
I slap away his hand but can’t help laughing at him. “You’re so full of it. Stop messing around, Moron. I have a biker to chase down.”
He laughs as he floors the SUV. “Hang on, Priss. It’s going to be one hell of a ride.”
CHAPTERFIFTY-SIX
CHASE
Sin City seemed like a good place to wallow in my pity. After finishing this last case, Atlas isn’t going to tell me I can’t have a fucking few days off before returning to headquarters. I sent a text to Prez stating just that, ignoring all the missed calls and texts from everyone else, including hers. I need this time to myself to build a wall around my fractured heart before confronting Simone, if she even returns to Colorado.
Bile rises in my throat at the thought of not seeing her again. She may not return to Fort Collins since she’s back with the micro-dick. A moving company could easily return her things to Trent’s condo in Sacramento. Her old firm would give her job back to her after the stellar work she did in the audit. Hell, they may give her Cynthia’s old position, since Simone earned a damn raise for a job well-done.
Me begging her not to go and watching her choose Trent over me may have been the last time I ever lay eyes on her. The poignant look on her face before she turned away will forever haunt me.
I sip my bourbon, wanting to dash my sorrow away. Unlike some of my brothers, I don’t feel the need to get shit-faced when I’m drowning in self-hatred. I center my attention elsewhere, focusing on something requiring all my concentration.
Usually, I’d find a willing woman to fuck for my distraction. The hell if I go there now, though. The idea of screwing another woman, let alone kissing one, has no appeal to me. Simone has ruined me for all others. A man can’t return to a fuckboy once he’s found his other half. Even if she doesn’t feel the same.
Instead, I sit at a blackjack table in an ostentatious casino on Las Vegas Boulevard, counting cards. A few hours have slipped by, with me fattening my wallet as the void in my heart grows.
