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“...Raiders weren’t always like that, but I’m so glad-”
“Wait a second,” I stop her, holding a finger off the glass. “Did you just mention the Raiders?”
“Uhm, yeah?” She squints at me, obviously skeptical. “He was their vice for a long time while Armstrong was in the presidency. Once Armstrong stepped down, so did Tornado. Something about trafficking, blah blah, I don’t know. He didn’t want anything to do with it. But, there was a new guy who totally was an asshat, but who cares? We’re out!” She cheers, clinking her glass with mine.
“How did you get out?” I ask, pretending to be genuinely surprised.
Again, she scoffs, “usually it’s blood for blood.” She waves the waitress back for another refill. “Except, when Daryn…oh gosh, what’s his last name!”
There’s no fucking way…
“Oh! Daryn Finnigan! He’s hotter than a southern summer, but man…he’s a douchebag. He came in with all sorts of new ideas. When he was initiated…”
Again, I space her out. Reaching into my pocket, I pull up the eFile I have on my people and search.
“...and they told everyone he was abducted! Can you believe that? How fucking crazy?” She continues cackling, and I swear I’m whiter than a ghost. Everything starts slowly clicking into place, and before long, I realize that I can make this into something better. There’s no guarantee that it’ll work out, but it’s worth a shot.
“Oh! And get this!” Her slurring has ramped up, almost to the point where she can’t even talk in a straight line. “Daryn still has Tornado by the balls somehow. It’s crazy, man. We got out, but he’s still hanging around them like a dumbtard. Daryn, which I don’t know if he has a road name or not because he’s an asshat, even implanted a stupid tracker on Tornado. I tried to warn the dude, but he wouldn’t listen…”
If shit wasn’t bad enough, it’s definitely going to hit the fan.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Leather
Rolling across the border was a lot easier than we anticipated, which put our previously behind schedule now caught up. The guys were all cracking jokes, having a great time while we rode. I simply couldn’t get into it. They asked me, tried to engage with me. There’s only so much I can say without spilling my guts.
I slept with two of the three people I deemed off limits for myself. They were temptation in the purest form…and I did myself dirty by giving in.
Regret isn’t the word I’d use to describe how I’m feeling, though. If anything, I feel crummy. Almost as if I took advantage of them. Yes, I know they are grown ass men, and yes, I know they can make their own decisions.
Knuckles has been trying to “woo” me for as long as I can remember, then after him…even just the thought of the asshole has my hackles raising. My heart feels heavy as I pull into the parking lot we were ordered to go to.
After that first night, I told the guys that they would be sharing their own room, and I’d take my own. None of them made complaints. When their door would shut, it was like a party on the other side of the wall. I couldn’t fault them for having a good time, either. If I were in their position, I might have been doing the same thing. Instead, my eyes remained nearly unblinking at the boring ceilings as I zoned the night away.
Now that we’re riding into day four, exhaustion has crept into my bones after sleepless nights and extremely long days, but this mission was at my insistence. I won’t let them down simply because I’m feeling less-than great. It’s imperative to our overall objective that this goes right.
Dropping the kickstand, my phone lights up with a call. Unfortunately, we keep playing phone tag. Prez has tried to call me several times today, but when we pulled over for gas and I tried to call him back, he wouldn’t answer. If he ever needs me for something, he’ll just send a quick text, but he doesn’t just call over and over again. Which means it’s because there's something going on. My small group doesn’t have all day to stop and go. We can’t just stop for me to answer his call, so we kept moving. Until now.
Yanking on the strap to my helmet, my phone goes dark before lighting back up again with Prez’s name.
“What’s so-”
“You need to leave!” Prez demands, his voice taut and heavy. “Get out of there, and we’ll talk when you’re back.” There’s an edge of desperation in his voice, one that has my brows pinching together and bad straightening.
“Woah, we just got here,” I start, frustration and concern already taking root. There’s no fucking chance I’m leaving a drop spot without a good reason.
“There’s no time to explain, Leather. You all need to leave, now.” Opening my mouth to ask questions, the distant sounds of motorcycles start up. The rumble of their engines takes over the call with Prez, hushing his voice into the background. Glancing around at the guys, they all seem to hear them too. Three of the four guys shove their helmets back over their heads and wait for my call.
The only person who doesn’t look surprised…is Tornado.
“Go, Leather!” Prez shouts down the line and his voice kicks me back into gear.
“Let’s go!” I shout down the mic, kicking my stand and screaming out of the lot. I hear the bikes start up behind me, their own tired squealing to race away. I take a sharp hook to move out of their way and motion for them to move ahead of me. I refuse to let members of my club suffer.
The sound of bikes gets a lot louder. Three of the four guys whiz past me while the last one stops, his bike right beside mine, and idling along with me for a moment. Swallowing thickly, a sinking pit in my stomach knows exactly who it is.
“This is a direct order. Get back to the club, let Prez know you’re alright.” All three immediately start blowing up my side of the line, asking what’s going on, their voices carrying over each other. Reaching up, I switch off the mic and speaker, unable to hear their frantic questions.
