“I’m not Gabriel’s girl.”

“To my dad, you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re not sleeping with him. He brought you in. You’re with him. Therefore you are off-limits.”

“In case Gabriel ever decides he does want to sleep with me?”

Another wince. “In my world, you can be friends with a girl and not go there. Not for my dad, though. Either you are there or you’re heading there.”

“Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“I know that makes him sound like a Neanderthal. He’s not. When my mom got pregnant, he never expected her to drop out of med school and marry him. He offered to get married, of course, but he didn’t expect a yes. He was just happy she was willing to go through with the pregnancy. He never asked for anything else from her. Never tried to deny her rights, either. A lot of the guys didn’t get that, and he took some lumps for it. He lost a few members when he took over, because Mr. Mom wasn’t their idea of a club president.” He stopped and flushed. “I didn’t mean to rant.”

“You didn’t. I understand, and as long as you don’t consider me your property—”

He laughed. “I know how far I’d get with that. Booted out the door. With my ass kicked the whole way. No, I’m not my father. But as a club member, I have to follow his rules. After you came by that first time, and I knew I wanted to see you again, I made sure I wasn’t overstepping. I talked to Gabriel.”

“And said what? Hey, are you planning to hit that?”

He gave me a look. “Not in so many words, but yeah. That’s not sexist, either. If you met a guy through a woman you respected, wouldn’t you check to see if she was interested in him before making a move?”

“Point taken. So what exactly did you say?”

He shrugged. “I asked if you guys were together, and when he said no, I asked if he was heading that way. He said absolutely not. You’re a client, and that’s grounds for disbarment. So I asked if that would change when you weren’t a client. He gave me that cold stare and said it was a professional relationship. End of conversation. Or so I thought.”

“So you thought?”

Ricky rolled onto his stomach and propped up on his forearms. “Gabriel’s … different.”

“Really?”

“No shit, huh.” He chuckled. “But he’s different in a whole lotta ways. Our last lawyer used to come to the club, hang out with the girls, go home with the hangers-on. It was a perk of the job. Gabriel? Hell, no. My dad suggested it once, and he got a very frosty no thank you. No girls. No drugs. Give him a drink, and he takes a few sips to be polite. Totally straight edge. He’s driven and he’s ambitious, and until he gets where he wants to be, nothing’s getting in his way, including romantic entanglements. That means he’s single-minded as hell. So when I ask about you, it takes a day or so for him to realize why I’m asking. He pops by the clubhouse on business. When I ask how you’re doing, he pounces. He strongly advises against asking you out. We’re both clients, and that would be problematic. Also, you’re going through serious changes in your life and you don’t need the disruption. I should steer clear.”

“Bastard,” I muttered.

Ricky seemed surprised by the venom in my voice. “Yeah, I’m sure you don’t appreciate that, but on the other hand it means I may have overstepped after all. It gives ammunition to my dad’s argument.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Ricky rubbed my bare hip. “Yeah, it kinda does. If Gabriel was that adamant about me not dating you, it could mean he really is—”

“He isn’t.” I told him about Gabriel’s deal with James. When I finished, his mouth opened. Then it shut, and he shook his head.

“I’d say I’m stunned, but it’s more like mildly surprised. Gabriel saw the chance to make a little extra on the side, and since it didn’t hurt your case, it wasn’t against your interests. On a professional level.”

“Which is all that matters with Gabriel. The point is that your dad has zero reason to think you were overstepping. Gabriel was only guarding someone else’s ‘property.’ If Gabriel still complains, it’s only because us dating could add a mild complication to his business interests, which come first.”

Ricky nodded slowly, digesting that. “That helps. On all levels.”

“Good. Because I understand that the club comes first for you, and I won’t interfere with that. But if we can make this work…”

“I’ll make it work,” he said and pulled me on top of him.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

When my phone rang, I surfaced from sleep, confused and groggy, thinking I heard a funeral toll, that slow dong that signifies a death. I leapt up, sleep falling away, Ricky stirring beside me. Then I heard the familiar tone of my phone. I checked it. Private caller.

I answered.

“E-Eden?” It was a woman, her voice pitched so high she sounded like a child. “Is th-this Eden Larsen?”

I tensed. Ricky touched my arm, telling me he could hear the caller.

“Where did you get this number?” I said.

“I-Is this Eden Larsen? Please. It’s important.”

“I don’t go by that name, and if you’re using it, you’re not someone I want to speak to, especially at three in the—”

“Wait! Please, please, wait. He told me to ask for Eden Larsen. Get to this phone. Call this number. Ask for Eden. That’s all I know.” Her words tumbled out on a wave of panic.

“I’m hanging up now,” I said carefully.

“No! Please, please, please.” Her voice broke in a sob. “I only get this one call. It was programmed in. If you hang up, I can’t phone back.”

“Programmed in?”

“To the phone. I can’t use any other number. I tried. I only get this one number and this one call. I have to speak to you and give you the message.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Macy. My name is Macy. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. I was at a party with some friends. I left with this guy, and he brought me here and … and…” Her voice broke again.

“Okay, slow down. You said there’s a message?”

“Yes. It’s that you need to come find me.” She paused. “You understand, right? You know what this is all about? Because I don’t understand any of it.” She hiccuped as she sped through the words. “Tell me this makes some kind of sense. That you know why he’d do this, and you’ll come help me.”

“Give me the whole message,” I said, speaking slowly to calm her down.

“Call Eden Larsen. Tell her to come to this address. If she comes, I will let you go. I have information she needs, but she has to prove she’s worthy of it. She must find you and she must save you. Then I will tell her the truth about her parents and her birthright. And if she does not come, I will—” Her voice cracked and she had to start again. “I will kill you.”

“Where are you?”

She rattled off the GPS coordinates left for her. “So you’ll come?”

“He sent you to that phone, correct? Meaning he isn’t there right now. So how are you in danger? You can run for help.”

“There’s nowhere to run. I don’t know where I am. There are all these abandoned buildings, and a cemetery. He’s watching, too. He’ll shoot me if I run.” She paused. “You don’t believe me. Oh God, you don’t believe me.”

She continued babbling. How cold am I if I admit I was ignoring her words and gauging her voice and her tone, trying to decide how genuine her plight was? Yet Ricky could hear, and he wasn’t saying, Come on! We need to go help her! When I glanced over, I could tell he was assessing, too.

I made Macy go over her story again, in more detail. She’d been at a party. She’d left with a man. She didn’t know who he was—it was a big party—only that he was alone and good-looking, and he’d singled her out for attention. They had a few drinks, and she was sure he must have slipped something in hers because otherwise she’d never just leave with him, especially without telling her friends.