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We hear another group of bikers walk through the door before we see them. I spot Ozzy, Knox, and Linc walking over to greet them.
“Oh, those must be the guys from Nevada.”
Lucy turns around and cranes her neck to get a better look. Her head quickly swings back in my direction, and she looks pale as a ghost.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, concerned with the look in her eyes.
She doesn’t answer for a beat, and alarm bells are going off in my head. This isn’t like my friend at all.
“Lucy,” I say, grabbing her hand. “What’s wrong?”
The touch shakes her out of whatever stupor she’s in.
“Nothing.” She takes a shaky sip of her beer. “Just thought I saw someone I recognized. Hey, let’s go get another drink.” Lucy turns toward the bar, and I follow her.
“Are you sure you’re okay? If this is about Jude, I’ve told you a million times—“
“No, it has nothing to do with Jude.”
“But it has to do with someone?” Why is she acting so damn cagey?
“I’m fine, Charlie.” Lucy pastes on a fake-as-hell smile. “Promise.” She looks over my shoulder and stills, looking like a deer in headlights.
Following her gaze, I spot a guy from the Nevada MC making his way over to us, his sights set on my friend. I don’t know this guy from Adam, but there’s something about him that sets me on edge.
When he reaches us, he orders a beer from the prospect behind the bar while Lucy stares at the condensation running down her bottle.
What the hell is going on?
“Ladies,” the man next to me drawls. “Nice night.”
I shoot him an uneasy smile while Lucy doesn’t take her eyes off her beer.
“You look an awful lot like a girl I used to know back in Nevada. Ever been?” he asks my friend.
“Nope.”
“Huh, that’s pretty weird. A little older and you have black hair, but you’re the spitting image of a girl I met back there.”
Lucy shrugs without looking in his direction.
“Hey, Charlie. Let’s play some pool,” she says, grabbing her drink and my hand before walking toward the pool table.
“They’re still looking for you, Lucinda,” the biker calls.
Lucy pretends not to hear him, but the way her grip tightens around my hand tells me she heard him loud and clear.
Instead of going to the table, I drag her into the hallway that leads to the bedrooms.
“Okay, you need to tell me what the hell is going on right now. Why did he call you Lucinda?”
“I don’t know. The guy is probably drunk. I look like a lot of people.” Her excuse is flimsy at best.
“You know I’ll never make you share anything with me you aren’t comfortable with, but I think it’s time you started talking. If there’s something I can help with or the club—“
“It’s nothing, Charlie. I’ve never seen that guy before in my life. Like I said, he’s probably just drunk, and he’s definitely mistaken.”
This is pointless. I know Lucy well enough to know if she doesn’t want to talk to me about something, she’ll stonewall me every step of the way.
