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“You were saying?” I asked, ignoring the booth with the bikers.
Carson shook his head. “You should stay away from those bikers. They’re trouble.”
“Because motorcycle clubs have a bad reputation?” I couldn’t help the snarky reply.
“No, Callie. They’re in a war with the Dirty Death MC. I don’t want you to end up in the crossfire.”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “Understood.”
Carson picked up the files I’d given him and shoved them into a leather satchel. He snapped the bag closed and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I think this meeting is over. You need to get back home. It’s not safe here.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He hesitated. “Okay. Sure.”
“Is the Devil’s Murder MC as bad as Dirty Death?”
“Depends on your definition of bad. If you’re asking if they bend the law and do as they wish, then yes. If you want to know if they ride around murdering people, that’s harder to answer. The burden is proof, and that’s something neither club leaves for us to find.”
Oh, wow, okay. “You’re saying they don’t leave witnesses or bodies. No one left to rat them out.”
“Maybe.” He picked up the check, rising to his feet. “You should leave with me. Don’t hang around here alone.”
With a sigh, I slid from the booth, slinging my purse across my neck and letting the bag rest against my hip. I followed Carson into the aisle, noting he walked a few steps ahead of me but seemed attuned to the vibe in the diner. The patrons didn’t seem too concerned about the bikers in the booth, even if a few people kept glancing their way. I guessed it was curiosity more than fear.
I felt the heated gaze of someone watching me as I walked out, leaving Carson to pay. I’d parked out front, a few spaces from the motorcycles gleaming in the hot Nevada sun. Ten a.m., and it was already scorching hot. I opened my car door, tossing my purse onto the passenger seat, followed by the T-shirt I had worn over my tank top.
Keys in hand, I watched as Carson exited, tucked his glasses into the pocket with the pen, and placed his sunglasses over his eyes.
“See ya around,” I called out.
“I’ll be in touch.” He glared at the diner, and I turned, noticing the group of bikers watching us with interest.
Uh-oh. Maybe this wasn’t as discreet as we had hoped.
“Do they know who you are?”
“No clue. Get in your car and drive away, Callie. Now.”
Sighing, I planted my ass on the seat of my SUV, rolled down the windows, cranked the latest song by Motionless in White, and sped out of the parking lot. No one followed me home, not even Carson, but I thought I caught an unmarked car outside the townhomes where I lived and a guy with a crewcut duck down before I entered through the gate, and I unlocked my back door.
For the rest of the night, I stayed indoors.
BREE NEVER RETURNEDto work. After the night we found all that evidence, she disappeared.
Just like Sadie.
To say I was freaking out was an understatement.
I called Agent Phillips for advice, wondering if I should report Bree missing like I did with Sadie. He didn’t answer. For several days, I kept calling, finally leaving a couple of frantic messages. He never texted or returned my call.
This couldn’t be happening. First, my sister disappeared. Then Bree. Now, Carson ghosted me, or he was missing too. Terrified, I realized I was the only person in contact with all three of them.
Holy. Shit. Was I next?
Pacing my room, I chewed on a nail, jumping at every noise I heard outside. Should I leave? Find someplace to lay low for a bit? What if Sadie showed up and I wasn’t here?
No. I couldn’t take that chance.
