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“Got it, boss. Any instruction on what to do in the meantime?”
“Yeah, quit being such an overachiever, Jay. Leave the cleanup to the whores.” His words earned a ripple of laughter around the table.
Before he could respond to that order, everyone shoved away from the table and sauntered out.
He started to get up too, but Cole waved him back down. Jennings settled his arms on the table, leaning forward slightly. “Yeah, boss?”
“You could pick up some food at the bar this evening before we go.”
He bobbed his head. “No problems. Any requests?”
“Just call and tell them our usual order. That should cover it.”
“Order” could mean a hell of a lot of things.
“Got it. I’ll hit the bar and be ready for the flight.”
Cole didn’t say more, so Jennings took that as a sign of dismissal.
As he walked out, a growl began in his chest. Something big was going down—he could feel it. And everything in him told him to get Wren out. Now.
She couldn’t vanish. But maybe they could fabricate a story about her going to visit her sister or a sick grandparent. Since his jerk brother couldn’t stay out of Jennings’s op, he was most likely hanging around Spring Valley. It would be no trouble for him to pick up Wren from work and take her to a safehouse.
But that meant being away from her, and Jennings’s jaw clenched at the very thought.
What he told her—that she was his—was true to the core of his soul. In their short time, he felt as if a bond had been forged so strong, so indestructible, that he couldn’t even fathom leaving her, even with a man he trusted as much as he did his own brother.
In a few hours, he’d be on a plane to El Paso. Wren couldn’t go unprotected within the walls of the club, and she definitely wasn’t returning to that dump she called her apartment. In his line of work, he knewfartoo much about the happenings in that neighborhood.
Damn. He didn’t have a choice. He had to call in his team.
Outside, a few guys were hanging around, checking out each other’s bikes. Not unusual in the club. One man lay on the ground, a wrench in hand, adjusting what looked like the carburetor.
As Jennings passed them, he lifted his chin in acknowledgement before he reached his own bike. The helmet dangling from the handlebar was his own. Too large for Wren, yet she looked so damn adorable in it. Now he couldn’t even look at the protective headgear without seeing her wearing it.
He was racing against the clock. Wren was in danger just because of her association with him.
Fuck, what was he thinking? He’d killed a man. Out of self-defense, sure, but dumping the body of a drug dealer that worked closely with the Disciples was asking to end up in a body bag himself.
There was also the matter of Bones. Without question, Sentry had the man in FBI custody. But he’d been seen leaving the club right after Jennings.
He swung his leg over his bike. The engine rolled over, purring like the wild animal he’d personally built it to be with his own two hands. At one time, he would have said that bike was the only thing he needed in his life. That happiness was the open road and the freedom of speed.
Now he missed the feel of his woman wrapped around him and knowing that when they stopped, he’d have her in his arms.
He had to get her to safety.
When he pulled off the highway into a roadside barbecue joint, he pulled out his phone and called Lexis.
“I’ve got something,” he told his boss.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m not sure what’s going down, but I’m headed to El Paso with the VP.”
“Shit. When?”
“Tonight. By jet.”
