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“Okay, thanks.”
“But you should probably log into your bank app tonight to cancel that card.”
“Right. Yeah. I’ll try to find my password and shit for the account.Asshole.”
“Jeez, sorry. I was just trying to help,” Jordan huffs.
“No. I didn’t mean you’re an asshole. I meant…I’m an asshole for losing my shit.”
He nods and says, “Well, let me know if you need any help figuring it out.”
“Okay, I will,” I lie again. Because it’s high time I figure out how to do shit myself.
CHAPTERFIVE
Thane
“Thanks for the truck,” Isaac says. He seems a little bit less murderous when he drops the key ring for my neighbor Jesse’s truck into my palm late Saturday afternoon. I was disappointed but not surprised that he wanted to do the crushing himself. Hopefully, it was cathartic.
“No problem. Feel better?”
“Fuck no.”
The night crowd won’t be rolling into the clubhouse bar for another hour or two, and already our president looks like he can barely hold his eyes open when he goes and sinks down into the chair behind the desk in his office.
“You didn’t sleep much last night?”
“No,” he mutters. “How could I? Crushing those bikes didn’t do shit to get Lyla back.”
“Get her back?”
He picks up a cigarette lighter from the desk and flicks it on and off before he finally says, “She moved out.”
“Damn. Do you know where she went?”
“I’m guessing she’s at Holly’s place. And it’s not like I can drag her out of there kicking and screaming.”
“Holly’s?” I ask since it’s not a name I’m familiar with.
Isaac tosses the lighter down to cross his arms over his chest. Then he slumps down in his chair to lift his jean-clad legs onto the desk, crossing them at his ankles. “My daughter’s best friend. She’s staying with her because she’s pissed at me after I forbade her from seeing Fulton.”
“That sucks.”
“Look, there could be something else going on that Lyla doesn’t know about. Something that could put her in danger.”
“Yeah?”
“I want you to follow her. Keep an eye on her.”
“Follow her? Like secretly or…”
“No. Stay close at all times. If you have shit to do, get someone to cover for you. Not one of the prospects.”
“Okay.”
“And if you see that son of a bitch Fulton near her, you put a bullet through his head. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I agree like a good little soldier. “Wait. Do you think Fulton would hurt her?”
