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“Okay, then,” Diaz replies, his smile very much plastered on his face. “Next week, Saturday, two in the morning. That’s when the transfers are done. Meet us at the private airport on Glenn Avenue.”
“We’ll be there, the large shipment in tow,” Duke murmurs. “Don’t even try to fuck me over, Diaz.” He spins around on his heels, and I follow behind him.
I have about a million things I want to say to him right now, but we’re in Dead Phoenix territory, and who knows what and where we’re being recorded. So, we don’t say shit. Silently, we walk through the halls, then outside toward the beater car we drove here in.
Sinking into the front seat, Duke starts the engine and begins to back away from the house. I turn to him to speak, but he shakes his head once, then mouths a single word—wired.
Fuck.
He’s right.
This car could be fucking wired. I look in the back seat, the sick feeling crawling up my throat at the sight of it being empty. I left those fucking women there. Left them with Diaz to live a life of hell. Leaving me with more notches on my fucking soul.
Once we’re back at Logan’s, Duke jerks his chin toward me. “My clubhouse,” he states. “We’ll celebrate.” But his tone is anything but celebratory.
I don’t say anything. Jerking my chin, I make my way toward my bike, climb on, and lift my hand in a wave just as Logan emerges from his infested shithole. I’m sure Duke will talk to him, but I can’t be anywhere near him.
Logan’s a fucking fed. He’s known this shit was going on, and he’s done nothing, absolutely nothing, to stop it… neither has his partner, Stoker. I understand he wants to get the biggest fish, but at the same time, he’s allowed dozens, if not hundreds, of women to be sold into slavery. Most of them were probably sold into sexual slavery, and by now, they’re likely all dead.
Fucking dead.
I hate myself for handing off three more to add to their body count. This whole thing is fucked. Every second of it.
Glancing at my watch, I hiss at the time. It’s a lot later than I thought it would be. I hope Reese is okay. It’s her first day here, and I should be with her, but this shit is more important—at least right now.
Walking into the Hell’s Souls clubhouse, I sink down on one of the chairs in the corner. I don’t even know if I want a drink at this point. I just need a fucking minute to breathe. I place my phone on the pub table, let out a sigh, and lace my fingers together as I tip my head down.
It isn’t long, maybe fifteen minutes, until I hear a heavy groan and the sound of a beer bottle hitting the table in front of me. Lifting my head, I give him a smirk. Duke is already sitting across from me, Bond on his left, three beer bottles in front of us.
Against my better judgment, I reach for a bottle and lift it to my lips. Sucking in a deep breath, I take a long pull, then set it down in front of them. Slowly, I peel the label, not sure what to say.
“What the fuck happens now?” I demand.
Bond smiles. “We make a plan. Fuck Diaz and all of the Dead Phoenix. They’re too big, too strong, and too goddamn dirty. Plus, they think they’re untouchable, which really pisses me off. They need to be eradicated.”
“Fuck them, for sure,” I grunt. “What is your idea?” I ask.
Duke leans back, lifting the bottle of beer to his lips. I watch him while I wait for whatever it is he’s going to tell me.
REESE
I wait.
And then I wait some more.
Afternoon turns to evening and then to night. As I stare out the back sliding glass door, I wonder if this is how it will be. I knew it would be this way, but I had hoped I’d have at least a week or two after I came back, not days.
But this is the Devil’s Hellions, and I know they work on a timetable of warp speed, so it would not surprise me if he’s back at his clubhouse partying and already forgetting me and this baby, sitting at home, locked down. Or maybe he remembers us, knows exactly where we are and that we can’t come to him without fair warning.
Well. This sucks—majorly. I hate myself completely already for coming here. I should have stayed back in Phoenix, or maybe run farther away. But when I look toward the front door, I let out a sigh.
He has four men protecting me. Standing by to guard me, to kill for me, to die for me at any given moment. I need to stop acting like a big baby and be thankful and grateful for all he’s done for us. Which is a lot. Even if he promised to be home, yet is not.
Home.
I need to not think about this place as my home. Because it’s not. I have a house just a few miles away. If the bank hasn’t foreclosed on it by now. They probably have, and all my things are tossed in a dumpster, never to be seen again.
Finding another movie to watch on television, I let out a sigh when it starts. Not because I don’t want to watch the movie, but mainly because I want things to be… good. I thought this was a start, but it looks like it’s more of a status quo.
