Page 108 of Lucky's Trouble

“Yeah. Just tired and a little worried.” She yawns.

“Why are you worried?”

“What will happen when the paramedics show up? Don’t they have to report a gunshot wound? Then the cops will get called, and they’ll find the body.” She goes rigid in my arms.

“You don’t have to worry about any of that. Satyr wiped all the cameras, and the guys are taking care of the rest.”

“What do you mean? My fingerprints could be all over that place.”

I rub circles against her back, wishing I had some clothes to put on her. If there’s nothing at Raunchy’s clubhouse that she can have, I’ll make a run to the store.

“I’m telling you, you don’t need to worry. They’ll handle it.”

She jumps when a big boom goes off, and we see an explosion in the distance. My brothers take that as a sign to ready themselves and get the fuck out, so they hop on their bikes. Seconds later, the van comes barreling back down the road, tires screeching as it pulls into the storage facility.

Everything happens quickly after that. Once the back of the van is emptied of everyone except a woman now dressed in man’s clothing, I help Tinleigh in, promising I’ll be right behind her. She looks uneasy when I close the doors and pound on the back, telling Tigger to go. I hate separating from her so soon, but she’s in no position to ride on the back of my bike.

We peel out of the facility, Raunchy’s crew taking a different route than us. No laws are broken when we hit the city streets, and we don’t give the cops any reason to pull us over. Our guns are less than legal, but we didn’t have time to secure them, so we’re all still packing.

Thankfully, Vegas never sleeps, and a group of bikers isn’t all that uncommon. We pull into the Vegas clubhouse a half-hour later without incident, and other than Raunchy’s leg, I’d say we did a pretty damn good job. That bastard Jeremiah is dead, and his house is nothing but a five-alarm fire, destroying all evidence of us ever being there.

It takes about an hour for everyone to find somewhere to pass out for the night. Cy puts Dutch in charge of the woman who refuses to give her name, so we start calling her Pet since that’s all we’ve heard her addressed as. None of us trust her, and until we figure out what to do with her, he’ll be keeping an eye on her.

Thankfully, Raunchy gave Tinleigh and me a spare room with an attached bathroom so we could have some privacy. The rest of my brothers are occupying sofas and floors, except Riot, who’s sleeping in the van. Anti-social motherfucker.

“This okay?” I ask when we walk into the bare-bones room. There’s a mattress on the floor with folded linens on top and a nightstand with a lamp, but that’s it.

She wraps her arms around her, still only covered by what I think is a tablecloth. Raunchy gathered up a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and one of the club whores had a pair of tennis shoes in her car that she donated to the cause, but she hasn’t put them on yet.

Walking over to the mattress, I spread out the flat sheet before tossing a blanket on top. It’ll do for tonight. Realizing she still hasn’t answered, I glance over at her. “Tinny?”

She blinks rapidly, coming out of the trance she was in. “Yeah?”

“This okay? You need anything else? Maybe something to eat?”

“No. I’m not hungry.”

“What’s up?”

“The mattress on the ground. That’s what I slept on last night. It had dark stains all over it, and I kept wondering what they were from and who slept there before me.” She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”

“I can get us a hotel for the night. We don’t have to stay here,” I say.

“No, really. It’s fine.”

I’m not so sure it is, but I take her word for it. I’m still wired up, so if it comes down to it, I can take us home tonight, though the dark circles under her eyes tell me she needs some sleep before she can ride.

“Is it okay if I take a shower?”

“Do whatever you need,” I say.

I know it’ll take time to get back to where we were. She’s been through hell, and I can’t expect everything to be normal, but there’s a river between us right now and I fucking hate it.

“Ask,” she says.

I plug a charger into the wall and connect it to my cell. “Ask what?”

She pins me with a look. “I know you want to, so just ask.”

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