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I didn’t know how long I sat there under the spray. Long enough for it to turn cold and my lips to begin to tremble and my teeth to chatter. Drew had left me alone, shaking his head with disgust as he swept from the room.
When I worked up the strength to stand, I quickly soaped myself and rinsed under the icy shower spray before turning it off and grabbing for a towel. It took me less than half an hour to dress and dry my hair. I picked up the clothes from the floor but left the shirt laid out on the counter while I balled up the rest and threw it into the hamper.
My room wasn’t a safe place for me. For all I knew, my father or Drew could have bugged it or put up a hidden camera. I doubted either of them would do something like that in the bathroom. Turning on the tap, I dug my nail under the loose seam of my blouse and prayed that the communicator hadn’t been damaged.
It still looked intact.
Sighing with relief, I hid it inside an unused cotton ball and placed it behind a container where it wouldn’t be seen. I didn’t want to risk using it until everyone was in bed. Seamus had told me that my father’s security shouldn’t have been able to detect it. I assumed since I made it inside the house that it was fine. Still, I would wait until there was little possibility of interruption before reaching out. I wanted to be safe.
Even if I no longer felt it.
25
My fist slammed into the man’s face. Again.
He groaned, but there was nothing more he could do when two of my men had his arms pinned behind his back.
“All you have to do is answer the question, and this all stops,” I told him. “Or you can keep quiet, and I can get more creative.”
The man shook his head, but it wasn’t defiance I saw in his eyes. It was resignation.
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know, man,” he whined. “Toph has never been looking to expand. That isn’t who he is. We do just fine with what we have, I swear.”
He honestly believed that.
There was no deception in his words. No hidden truths behind his eyes. If Toph Eriksen, president of the Iron Horsemen, was expanding, this man didn’t know about it.
Or we were missing something.
“Tell me why Eriksen keeps targeting our men.”
The man groaned again. “Man, you know I can’t tell you that shit. He’ll kill me.”
I snored. “I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me so…”
“You honestly think you’re scarier than Toph?” The man shook his head. “Shit, I’ve seen Prez do some fucking nasty shit to those who cross him. I’m not fucking snitching.”
“See now, I’m willing to keep it a secret if you are.” I winked at him. “No one has to know.”
“Fuck you, man.” There was no heat behind his words, just simple resignation. “Look, he doesn’t tell us much…”
He was stalling. The biker needed a bit of incentive. Removing my knife from its holster, I slid the tip along his throat, hovering it just above his carotid artery.
“Just a nick,” I threatened. “That is all it would take. Then I could sit here and watch you bleed out on the pavement. Then I’ll plant evidence of you and your pretty little wife snitching to the cops and—”
“Leave my wife out of this!”
“Then tell me what I want to know!” I roared as I dug the tip in further.
“Okay! Okay!” he cried out. “Crowe has Prez’s daughter captive. That’s why we’ve been targeting your men. Under Crowe’s orders. He’s got it bad for you guys. I’m not even sure why.”
“Eriksen has a daughter?”
Why hadn’t we known that?
“She was taken when she was three years old,” the biker rushed. “Crowe provides photos every now and again to keep Prez in line. He’s tried to get her out a couple of times, but then he gets photos of her, the girl. Ones where she’s beaten or starving. Crowe threatened to sell her at auction if he didn’t get his shit straight.”
Well, fuck.
