Bronx runs a hand over his head. “You do realize it will still show him the last known location?”

The wrench drops from my hand, narrowly missing my foot. “No.”

He smiles awkwardly at me. “Yeah. It’ll still show him where it is, just that it’s not active.” He fails to hide the concern in his eyes.

“Fuck!” Every time—they always get one up on me. Why can’t I damn well get it right? Anger, pure and hot, surges through my veins: at Gunter for tracking me, at myself for not thinking about the fact he can still find me if my phone’s alive or not, and at the fact I now have a damn expensive pile of trash that I’m still making payments on. Bronx backs up as I reach out in a fit and swipe the pieces off the counter, sending them raining down on the floor.

It dawns on me that the room’s gone quiet, as in, a pin drop would be deafening at this moment. Peering out from under my lashes, I take in the two men beside the pool table, gawking with their cues in hand. A scantily clad woman is frozen mid-stride at the base of some stairs, and even King is hanging out in the door to his office, an amused smile on his face.

Low, reverberating laughter fills the void, breaking the otherwise heavy silence. I stare at King, raising my face fully to frown at the guy as he damn near wets himself where he stands, holding on to the doorframe with one hand.

“Shit, Bronx. That’s the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all day.” He sucks in a few breaths, making loud whoops as he does. “Can’t tell you how much of a relief it is to know I’m not the only asshole goin’ crazy over a psychotic bitch.”

Bitch? I open my mouth to say something, but snap it shut when Bronx holds out his hand. “Don’t,” he urges. “It’s not said as an insult around here. Plus, it’s the first time he’s laughed like that in a while—the guy needs it.”

I look at the mess I’ve created, and then at King, sharing his smile and the joke. His face drops at the sound of my laughter, and he points a finger between the two of us.

“Funny as it was, you said something that disturbed the fuck out of me while you were busy smashin’ that up, sweetheart. Both of you better tell me exactly who it is that knows where she is, and I better like it, otherwise you two will be wishin’ you’d kept this little love-fest in Omaha.”

I glance across at Bronx who’s staring up at the ceiling, nostrils flaring. I’ve been here all of half an hour, and I’ve got him in the shit twice. Honestly, if the guy isn’t questioning what he’s got himself in for by now, there has to be something seriously wrong with him.

Or seriously right.

SADDLE UP

Bronx

The look on her face says it all. After King finished tearing us a new one, she bolted across the common room and holed herself up on that sofa, knees tucked into her chest as though she was a frightened child. I guess in some ways she still is. But that look, the vacancy in her eyes—she’s wondering why she’s even alive, what the purpose to all of this pain and heartache is.

A feeling I know too well.

Dawn passed an hour ago, and still no sign of Gunter. Either the skinhead doesn’t fancy leaving his brother behind, or he hasn’t figured out what he’s going to do about Ryan yet. The guy’s pretty thick in the head, but I don’t think he’s enough of an idiot to charge down a whole fucking clubhouse of bikers single-handedly.

Either way, it was the final nail in my coffin. I’ve fucked this up, ruined the whole deal. Might as well buy myself a cabin in the Alaskan wilderness now. I’m kind of surprised King hasn’t taken me out the back for a lesson on biting bullets yet. Maybe tomorrow—maybe he wants her gone first?

My phone chimes in my back pocket, and removing an elbow from where I’m leaning on the bar, I pull it out and open the message. Ty.

Your a fucking moron.

*you’re I send back, smiling like an idiot at the visual I have of him going off his rocker down in Fort Worth.

Kick YOUR ass when I see you.

Of course—it never even crossed my mind that King would call him to help sort this shit out, but it makes sense. Speak of the devil . . .

King jogs down the stairs looking fresher than a fucking daisy. He glances at Ryan sitting on her own, and then across at me, lifting an eyebrow.

I shake my head to let him know not to go there.

“Heard from Tuck,” he says quietly as he comes to a stop beside me. He looks across at Ryan again, tipping his chin her way. “What’s up with her?”

“Not sure. She won’t talk to me. But I’m guessing she’s feelin’ about as much of a walkin’ fuck-up as I am right now.”

“We all screw up, Bronx,” King reassures me. “Just some more monumentally than others.” He gives me a friendly nudge on the arm.

I narrow my gaze at him. “What’s got you so fuckin’ smiley?”

“The alternative,” he says, a shitload more subdued. “Got to wake up with a smile on your face to save cuttin’ yourself a second one on your throat.”

“Fuck, we’re a bunch of miserable assholes, aren’t we?”

“Men have fallen for less, brother.” King pushes off where he’d been resting on the edge of a stool. “Go raid my drawers and get yourself some real clothes, huh?”

I nod, watching Ryan as she rubs her eyes on her knees.

“Take it you know by now Ty’s on his way, too?” he asks.

“Yeah. He messaged me right before you rocked up.”

“We’re goin’ to have to do some serious thinkin’ here, brother. Carlos is just waitin’ on us to fuck up. He catches wind of this, we’re toast.”

“No point tellin’ me what I already know,” I say, rubbing my neck. “I feel shit enough as it is without you remindin’ me why.”

“Can’t change what’s done,” he says. “Only learn from it.”

“You think I would have by now, hey?” I offer him a weak smile.

“You think we would all have,” he responds, shaking his head. “Tuck will be here in thirty. I’ll let you break the news to her.” He gives me a slap on the arm and strides off across the common room to his second home—the office.

I don’t envy the bastard one bit, having to wrangle this circus day in, day out—especially when each sunrise seems to bring the promise of more bullshit to deal with. Wiping my palms over the front of my jeans, I step away from the bar and head toward Ryan. She turns her head as I approach, staring straight through me before those baby blues focus and she breaks a small smile.

“Sorry for acting a bitch,” she says as I take a seat. “It’s just easier to keep to myself and avoid doing anything else that gets you in trouble.”

“Since you’ve shown up, all you’ve done is get me into trouble.” I give her a gentle nudge, forcing her to look up and see my smile.

“Sorry.” She lets out a quiet laugh.

“Don’t worry too much about it. Things will blow over.” Maybe. Only time will tell. No point ruining my day worrying about the consequences until they happen.

“King looks happy,” Ryan says, looking over the back of the sofa at his office door.

“He’s not.”

“Oh.”

“He wants you to know Harris is on his way, though.”

Her legs shoot out, and she twists toward me. “What? When?”

“Half an hour.”

“Shit!” Her hands go to her mussed up hair and run over her tired face. “I need a shower. Oh my God, can I have a shower here?”

“Despite what people say about dirty bikers, yeah, they do have a shower here,” I tease. She watches me as I stand, offering her my hand. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to somebody who’ll make gettin’ to know where things are around here lot easier for you.”

She takes my hand, and hoists herself up. I give her a little tug, pulling her body against mine. She just stares up at me, those crystal clear eyes unsure and apprehensive as I look her over and sigh. “You’re worth the trouble, okay?” She nods. “Whatever happens, whatever anyone says, you’re worth it.”