by A. M. Myers
“And you think they’re going to come after you now?”
I nod, remembering the look on Luca’s face as I got away from him – the dark promise of my demise shining in his cold eyes. A shudder races down my spine and I pull my hand from the table to wrap my arms around myself.
“You didn’t see him… his eyes… they were so cold and void of anything that looked… human. I know way too much and when I looked back at him, I just knew that he would do whatever he had to do to make sure I didn’t talk.”
Logan sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Did you talk to the police in the hospital?”
“Yes. They sent someone in to take my statement and I told him everything.”
“Good,” he answers with a nod. “I need to go make a phone call then.”
He scoots away from the table, the legs of his chair scraping on the tile as he stands and I startle at the noise, my mind still miles away in that alley as I replay the events of the evening again and again. Logan grabs his phone from his pocket and marches out of the room. He’s in full MC president mode now and knowing that makes me feel a little safer but I know we’re still so far away from me and my little peanut being truly safe.
The three of sit in silence as the front door opens and when he closes it behind him, Ali releases a breath and stands, wiping the tears from her cheeks before she walks behind my chair. Leaning down, she wraps her arms tightly around my body and relief rushes through me despite my body screaming in pain. Carly gets up and kneels next to my chair, looping her arms around the middle of my body as Ali continues hugging my shoulders. My chest aches and a sob bubbles out of me before I can stop it but they just hug me harder.
Chance reaches across the table again and grabs my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve got you, Iz.”
“Damn right, we do,” Ali agrees, nodding into my shoulder. “We’re going to figure this shit out and no one is going to let anything happen to you or your baby.”
God, I hope she’s right.
Chapter Six
Diego
“Don’t miss, princess,” Jumper calls, taunting Gear as he leans over the pool table and lines up his shot. “Or you’re going to owe me one hundred big ones.”
He glances up, shooting Jumper a glare. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Whatever, man. I was just trying to help ya out,” he says, leaning back against the bar stool and shrugging like he’s not intentionally goading his best friend.
“Sure you were, asshole.”
Jumper scoffs. “See, this is the problem with our relationship, bud. I have cute pet names for you like princess and you just call me asshole. Maybe it’s time I go find me someone who’s going to appreciate me.”
“I’d appreciate you shutting the hell up,” Gear fires back and Jumper pretends to act offended as he raises his beer to his lips, fighting back a smile. Ignoring him, Gear lines up his shot again, pulls his pool cue back, and when he tries to strike the white ball, Jumper lets out a shriek. What was a perfect shot curves off to the side and Gear jumps up, slamming his stick on the table.
“Motherfucker!” He stalks around the pool table, coming after Jumper who just sets his beer down on the bar and turns back to him with a smile. Gear locks him in a headlock and Jumper takes out his legs. As the two of them fall to the floor, I roll my eyes and lean back against the bar, watching them wrestle for a second before shaking my head. Gear and Jumper were prospects together so they’ve always been close and since they look damn near identical, I sometimes have to wonder if the fuckers weren’t separated at birth. Lord knows they like to fuck with each other like me and my younger brother, Manuel, used to when we were kids.
My phone rings, rattling across the bar and dragging my attention away from the brawl on the floor as I set my beer down and snatch up my phone. Storm’s name pops up on the screen and I scowl as I glance at my watch.
What the hell is he calling me about at one in the morning?
“Yeah, boss?” I answer and his heavy sigh greets me.
“Hey. You home?”
“Naw,” I answer, raising the bottle of beer to my lips and taking a sip. “I’m over at the clubhouse. Why? What’s up?”
“You okay to drive?” he asks and I pause, my brows knitting together as I set my beer down on the bar. Something is definitely off for him to be calling me this late at night and when you add in the obvious stress rolling off of him, even through the phone, I’m on edge in an instant. My mind flashes back to all of the things this club has been through and there is a pit in my stomach as I stand and shove my other hand into the pocket of my jeans.
“Yeah.”
“Good. I need you to do something for me… two things, actually.”
I nod. “Name ‘em.”
When I first met Storm, he was as hotheaded and reckless as they come, tortured by his past, and living like he didn’t have plans for the future, but once he met Ali, everything changed. She brought out another side of him, a side none of us knew he had. Over the past three years, in his role as president, he’s really grown into the kind of leader that this club desperately needed. He’s tough but always fair and I’d do anything he asked of me, any of us would.
“First, I need you to sit on Izzy’s house tonight and keep an eye on things.”
The kick in my chest at the mention of the feisty little brunette doesn’t surprise me but the intense worry that almost attacks me as I run through the reasons why I would need to watch her house, does. I frown and run a hand through my hair.
Fuck.
Is she okay?
Every cell in my body is dying to ask the question but I fight against it for more reasons than I care to delve into at the moment.
“And I need you to call your friend in the department for me,” he finishes and my frown deepens. When I left the force, I stayed in contact with a few friends and one of them regularly slips me case files or information when it’s needed but Storm doesn’t ask me to reach out to him unless it’s serious.
“What am I looking for?”
“Ask him for a case file with Izzy’s name on it. She was… involved in something tonight and I need to have any information that the cops do.”
“And I’m babysitting her house because…” I don’t often question orders from my president and the only reason I’m doing it now is the concern rapidly eating away at my resolve to not ask any questions.
“I need to know if someone shows up there tonight, looking for her.”
I arch a brow. “Do you expect someone to show up?”
“Fuck…” He takes a deep breath and releases it. “You have no idea how much I’m hoping that I’m wrong but yeah, I think she’ll have some visitors tonight.”
I sit back down on my stool and release a breath as I stare at the wall in front of me and my mind spins. What in the fuck did Izzy get herself involved in? “You want me to intervene?”
“No. Just watch and report back to me in the morning.”
“And I take it she’s not home,” I supply as I run through the likely scenarios that might lead to this phone call but none of it makes sense.
“No,” he answers. “She’s here at our place and likely will be for the foreseeable future.”
“What the fuck is going on, Storm?”
“Look, I’ll fill you in on everything in the morning but right now, you’re the only one I trust to handle this for me. If anything happens to Izzy… it will destroy my ole lady and you’re the best investigator we’ve got, Smoke.”
I bite back a laugh as my mind flashes back to my pity party only an hour ago. I may not be feeling his confidence at the moment but I refuse to let any of my brothers down.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll head over there now,” I tell him, running a hand through my hair as I rack my brain, trying to imagine what kind of trouble Izzy got herself into to warrant all of this. Knowing her, though, it could be anything. She’s hell on wheels with absolutely no filter and I’m honestly shocked that
we’re not constantly bailing her out of trouble.
“Call me when you’ve got news. I don’t think I’ll be sleeping much tonight.”
“Yeah, you’ve got it.”
He releases a breath like I’ve just removed a boulder from his shoulders. “Oh, and, Smoke? Be careful.”
“You got it, boss,” I answer just before the line goes quiet. Pulling it away from my ear, I stare at the black screen for a second before standing up and swiping my keys off of the bar.
“Taking off?” Gear calls. He and Jumper must have worked their shit out cause they are back at the pool table, racking up another game. Jumper snorts a laugh, taking a sip of his beer as he leans back against the pool table.
“You guys are so fucking old, you know that? God forbid, you stay up past your bedtimes.”
“Fuck off. I got shit to do,” I tell him, flipping him the bird as I turn toward the clubhouse doors. Jumper loves to give everyone around him shit and we’re all used to it by now but every once in a while, someone has to take him down a notch. Maybe I’ll float the idea by Kodiak tomorrow - he’s always up for knocking some sense into the younger brothers. Grinning, I step out into the empty parking lot and my mind snaps back to my mission and the danger Izzy is in as I make my way to my bike.
Shit.
If I had to guess, it probably has something to do with some guy she’s been seeing - they tend to get a little too attached sometimes and don’t take it well when she decides to end it. Although, the club has never had to step in before so that part has my stomach twisting with worry. Without warning, my thoughts drift to the last time I saw her before I quickly shut them down again, shaking my head with a sigh. Those memories are only going to stir up more trouble.
Reaching my bike, all thoughts of Izzy are forgotten for a moment as I grab the handlebar and swing my leg over the seat before pulling my phone out of my pocket to call my friend, Max. Max Mobley was my partner for six months before I walked away from the force and we developed a good friendship in that time. He’s a damn good man and cop - working his ass off to do something about the corruption surrounding him in that department. That’s why he stays but that hasn’t stopped him from reaching out to us for help when he’s out of options on a case. He learned pretty quickly, just like I did years ago, that sometimes working with the club was necessary to help the people of this city.
“Diego,” he answers and the chatter in the background that tells me he’s still at the station makes my chest ache. I miss that fucking sound, the constant buzz of activity no matter what time of day it was. I used to thrive on it. “What’s up?”
“Not much. How are you?”
He laughs. “Living the dream. You need something?”
“Yeah. I need a file.”
“Again?” he asks and the noise in the background slowly quiets. I sigh, scrubbing at the scruff along my jaw as I nod.
“This time it’s… personal for the club. Someone that is like family.”
He sighs. “What’s the name?”
“Isabelle Hutton.”
“Shit,” he hisses and I hear a door close on the other end of the line. “You know her?”
“Yeah, she’s Ali and Carly’s best friend. Why?” I answer and he takes a deep breath.
“I was called out to that scene tonight and it was…”
My brow furrows as his words hang in the air between us and I swear my heart stops beating for a fraction of a second. What the hell did Izzy get herself into? The thought of someone coming after her, of her getting hurt, makes my stomach twist painfully again. I haven’t been much good at protecting anyone in the past but the thought of her getting hurt, or worse, lights a fire inside me and I know I won’t let anyone come near her. This club is not going to lose anyone else.
“You got time to tell me about it?”
“No, not right now but I’ll leave the file in the usual place.”
“Thanks, Max,” I say, nodding. “I owe you one.”
He barks out a laugh. “You owe me a hell of a lot more than one but y’all did help me get that girl out of town last week so I suppose it’s my turn. Gotta go.”
Before I can reply, he hangs up and I tuck my phone back into my pocket, more intrigued than ever by what happened to Izzy tonight as the engine of the bike roars to life beneath me. I close my eyes, blowing out a breath as the vibrations of the bike clear my mind of all the clutter that weighs me down daily. When I open my eyes again, I flick the kickstand up and wait for the front gate to open before I race out of the lot, pointing my bike toward the police station, letting the road melt away the stress that was suffocating me earlier tonight. Being on the bike is freeing in a way that I can’t find anywhere else and I honestly don’t think I’d be alive right now if it weren’t for this machine and my brothers. When I first met the Bayou Devils MC eight years ago, I had never ridden a day in my life but I had always wanted to - something my cautious, superstitious mother hated. In the beginning, I just worked alongside the guys and flirted with the idea of getting a bike of my own as I helped them in their mission to save the innocent anyway they could. But, somewhere along the way, my life became entangled with the club in a way I couldn’t have imagined and they became like a second family to me. Hell, some days, it feels like these guys are my only family or the only one that accepts me as I am with no conditions or expectations - something that has been lacking in my life these past few years.
I pull into the station parking lot just as Max reaches the top step on his way back into the building and he glances back over his shoulder, giving me a subtle nod before he steps inside. Scanning the lot, I make sure it’s empty before I ride up behind his truck and lift the handle of the tailgate as quietly as possible. Once it’s down, I look around again as I reach into the bed, underneath the liner, and pull out a thick manilla envelope. Max isn’t able to give me the actual files since someone would notice if they went missing so he makes me a copy and leaves it here, in the back of his truck, for me to grab when no one is looking. The weight of the folder intrigues me and I turn it over in my hand, desperately wanting to open it and figure out what is going on but Storm is counting on me to watch her house so I tuck the envelope in my saddlebag instead before closing the tailgate. After taking one last look through the lot, double checking that I wasn’t seen by anyone, I peel out of the lot and point my bike toward Izzy’s house, my thoughts consumed with the trouble she’s in again. I’m dying to read that file but it will have to wait for a minute.
Izzy’s house isn’t far from the station so it only takes me a few minutes to get there and when I pull up in front of her modern bungalow, I breathe a sigh of relief. Nothing looks out of place so I climb off my bike and walk it into the woods surrounding her property to set up shop for the night. Moving to the edge of the trees so I have a good view of the house, I lower the kickstand on my bike and sit down on the ground, leaning back against a tree as I pull the folder out of the saddlebag. I can’t help but feel like I’m violating her privacy a little bit as I open the envelope and pull the stack of papers out but if I’m going to protect her, I have to know what I’m protecting her from. A photo falls out of the stack as I try to rearrange things and I reach down, scooping it up to study it and my eyes widen.
Holy fuck.
She’s in a hell of a lot more trouble than I ever imagined.
Chapter Seven
Isabelle
“Aunt Issy?” a sweet little voice I recognize all too well calls, dragging me back into consciousness as I desperately try to stay in the warm, cozy dreamland I’m floating through. I can sense her right next to my bed and her breath hits my face. “Are you awake?”
No.
I’m not.
Another burst of air smacks me in the face just before she jabs her tiny little finger into my cheek, hard. Jerking, I groan and open my eyes, flashing the miniature version of my best friend an insincere glare. Not that she gives a damn. She blinks her bright blue eyes at me, clearly waiting
for an answer to her question despite the fact that I am very clearly awake, thanks to her. I roll my eyes. Magnolia Mae Chambers is the main character in everything she does and none of the guys would ever admit it but she runs this damn club. From the moment she was born four years ago, she has had every single man on this compound wrapped around her fingers and the trouble is, she knows it. I swear, I’ve never met a more spoiled child in my life. Anytime she wants anything, all she has to do is flash a grin and there isn’t a single brother that could deny her. And if she decided to pout? Lord have mercy because they would all be falling all over themselves to appease the little diva but no one is quite as bad as her father. Logan will go to any length to give his little princess anything her heart desires. It would be funny if it wasn’t so ridiculous.
“Yeah, Mags,” I answer her, stretching carefully to avoid irritating my sore muscles before relaxing back into the mattress with a sigh. “I’m awake now.”
She beams at me and grabs my hand, giving it a little tug. “Yay! Mama said I had to leave you be until you were awake but now we can go play and I got new dolls to show you. I’ll be the princess and you can be the mean, ugly dragon guarding the tower.”
I ignore the dragon comment as I shake my head and pull my hand from her grip, gently.
“Hold up, little miss. Auntie Izzy needs coffee and breakfast before we can do any playing.” As if on cue, my stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten anything since before my show yesterday, and Magnolia drops her gaze to my belly with a scowl. It’s adorable. When she glances up at me again, the frown is gone and replaced by a pout that would make any of the men around here crumble at her feet.
“Don’t give me that pout, young lady,” I tell her as I sit up in bed and flick her lip. “And if you don’t put that lip away, a bird is going to poop on it.”
Her eyes widen in horror. “Ewww!”
I can’t help but laugh as she wipes the inside of her lip with the back of her hand and inspects it carefully before running out of the room, shrieking in true diva fashion. The wails of despair echo down the hallway and I lean back against the headboard, rolling my eyes. Good God, that girl is so damn dramatic and ten bucks says that if her daddy is home, he’ll be up here in a few minutes to chew me out for teasing her so much. He should know by now that she gives as good as she gets though.
