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Tracker and Spec exchanged a look, but Jinx was in too much damn pain to try and decipher it.

“Whatever you want, man. Let’s get you out of here,” Tracker said.

This was not how the night was supposed to go. All he could do now was hope Harper didn’t run screaming from the dangers associated with his club.


THE WHISPERING WAS what finally did her in.

The night had been fun—drinks with the girls and a delicious salmon meal barbecued by Curly. She’d also been grilled by the pack of nosy women wanting every detail of how her relationship was progressing with their friend. But she found she didn’t mind because it was done with love and excitement for her and Jinx.

Then Curly got a phone call, and everything changed.

The energy in the air shifted from a pleasant buzz to a heavy rigidity. He’d grown tense, and that tension set Ty on edge. Next came the looks. Worried glances between the women set her on edge. But when Curly and Ty held a whispered conversation complete with frowns and violent hand gestures, everyone picked up on the fact something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Harper assumed it was club business and tried her damndest to keep from obsessing, but once Curly whispered to Brooke, the news, whatever it was, seemed to travel through the entire house in a poorly disguised game of telephone everyone was in on.

Everyone except for her.

Why the secrecy?

Why was she the only one out of the loop? Because she wasn’t officially an ol’ lady and therefore not a permanent part of the club? Should she leave so they could discuss without having to hide information from her?

Ugh. The exclusion made Harper feel sick.

She pushed her dessert bowl away, unable to take another bite no matter how delicious the peach cobbler tasted.

Concerned glances were still being exchanged when Tracker walked in without knocking. This group never bothered to knock and busted into each other’s homes as though they all lived together.

Tracker went straight to Jo, who stood from the table to wrap her arms around him. They whispered to each other as he rubbed her back. Why did she need soothing?

What the hell was going on?

And that’s when Harper’s stomach really took a nosedive. Where was Jinx? He’d been with Tracker tonight. Spec as well. Where were the other two men?

Had something happened? Were they injured? Everyone knew something she didn’t, and she was done waiting in the dark.

She shoved her chair back and stood. All gazes shifted to her. “I can’t take this anymore. You’re all shit at keeping secrets. Never play poker. Now, someone please tell me what the hell is going on.”

Shame crossed Brooke’s face while Liv cringed.

“Shit, sorry, Harp,” Brooke said. “We’re not trying to keep secrets from you. We just didn’t want you to worry.”

Oh God. She pressed a hand to her stomach. “W-worry about what?” No one spoke. “Jinx?” she whispered. “Is he okay?”

Tracker walked over and cupped her elbow. “Why don’t you grab your stuff? Jo and I will take you home. Jinx said he’d meet you there later tonight.”

Tears practically choked her. She faced Tracker. “Please. Is he okay?”

With a nod, Tracker pulled her in for a hug. “He’ll be fine, hon.”

He’ll be fine. Not he was fine or he would be fine. As in not fine now but will be in the future.

“He’s hurt?” She pulled away so she could watch Tracker’s face and assess the truth of his words.

He cleared his throat. “Nothing major. He’s getting some stitches and will be done soon.”

Stitches? So he was hurt bad enough to need medical care. She might pass out. “Take me to him.” Not a question. A demand.


“Take. Me. To. Him.”

Jo walked over as Tracker sighed. She put her arm around Harper’s shoulders.

“I promised him I would take you home and not to the hospital.” Tracker made an ‘X’ over his heart with his fingers. “He’ll come to you the second he’s finished. Swear it.”

“Finished getting sewn back together, you mean?”

“Uh…” He looked everywhere but at her.

Fucking men.

“Fine. Let’s go. I’m done here anyway. Watching you all whisper and give me the side-eye all evening destroyed my appetite.”

Tomorrow, she’d be mortified by the way she stomped from the table like a child, shaking off Jo’s arm and failing to thank Curly for the delicious meal. But she was sick with worry for Jinx and had no idea how to handle the emotional storm rising inside her. She hadn’t had anyone to worry over in years, and being out of practice made those feelings even more distressing.

As she sat in the back of Jo’s car, staring out the window and bouncing her knee, she realized this was so much more than worry. She’d have been worried if any of the men in the club got hurt. Now she was petrified. Good thing she hadn’t finished her dinner—less for her to throw up all over the back of Jo’s car.