Page 36 of Lucky's Trouble

“Yeah, okay.” I shove the framed picture back into my bag and zip it up. “I’m ready.”

“That’s all you’re bringing? You still have clothes hanging.” Lucky motions to my clothing rack.

“I have all I need.”

“You sure because—”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.” He takes my duffle from me and lifts the strap over his head so it sits across his body.

“Let me go first.” Rigger opens the door, reaching behind his back and settling his hand on a black handle tucked into the back of his pants.

My eyes widen, realizing it’s a gun. Realization hits me that I’m leaving, that I’m putting these men in danger, and that things are about to get really crazy. My feet are frozen in place.

“It’s just a precaution, Hellcat.” Lucky takes my hand and pulls me out the door. But the second we’re on the landing, my feet stop moving once again because one of the bouncers from the club is slumped in the corner, his head hanging forward.

I gulp, hoping I didn’t get a man killed by asking the Sons for help. “What did you mean by ‘he’s taking a nap’?”

“He’s not dead, if that’s what you mean,” Rigger says, scanning our surroundings. “But he’ll have a hell of a headache when he wakes up.”

“Oh.” My eyes remain on the lifeless form as Lucky gives my hand a tug, and I follow him down the stairs.

“We’re parked at the diner, same as last time,” Lucky says in a hushed tone. “Didn’t want to alert anyone to our arrival.”

“Okay.” It’s surreal as we creep through the back of the complex and along a well-worn trail that leads to the alley right behind the neighboring diner.

We make it to the parking lot, where another of the Sons is straddling his bike, seemingly keeping watch. That was smart since this isn’t the best neighborhood.

“Can you ride?” Lucky asks.

My back screams at me to say no, but I’ve come too far to let pain get in the way. “Yeah.”

He hands me a helmet. “Let’s go then.”

Getting on the bike first, he moves my duffle to his front, letting it sit in his lap. I place the helmet on my head, ignoring the instant headache that the pressure puts on my injuries, reminding myself it’ll feel worse if we crash and my brains splatter on the road.

I take Lucky’s proffered hand and settle onto the bike. As though I’ve done it a hundred times before, and not just a few, I wrap my arms around his middle. Immediately, I feel safe. It’s not rational. I have no idea what’s ahead of me, how to get there, or why I called Lucky to help me in the first place.

But at least I know that at this moment, I’m not alone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LUCKY

There are a couple things I should’ve done before coming to pick up Tinleigh. I should’ve had the maids get a vacant room ready at the Honey Pot, and I should’ve told Myla what was going on. But as I ride out of the city and feel Tinleigh rest her cheek on my back, I’m glad I didn’t do either.

Taking her back to my place is risky. She might see it as manipulation, but I’m hoping she’ll see my reasoning. Neal won’t be happy, and he’ll be on the lookout. It only makes sense to keep her where she’s most protected. Having her in my space is just an added benefit.

We pull into our parking lot and ease the bikes next to the others. Tinleigh yanks her helmet off before she’s even off the bike. Judging by the look on her face, it was causing her some discomfort. When I first walked into her place and saw how bad off she was, I wanted nothing more than for Neal to make a surprise appearance so I could show him exactly what I thought about him.

“You good?” I ask.

“Fine.” She looks around. “Where are we? A bar?”

“Nah. This is the clubhouse.”

“And why are we here?”

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