Page 79 of Lucky's Trouble

“I could just stay the night.”

“Not happening.”

“Neal doesn’t even know where Myla lives.”

“You think that information’s hard to come by?”

I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

He spins the stool so I face him and strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. “Behave today.”

There’s an intensity in his eyes, the same one I saw last night. Something is bothering him, something he’s not telling me, and no amount of coaxing has drawn out. Maybe it has to do with Neal, or maybe something is going on with the club that I don’t know. I just wish he would tell me.

“I will.”

What starts out as a sweet kiss quickly progresses into something more. Before I know what’s happening, he’s fisting my hair, and I’m arching my aching breasts into him while he claims my mouth with his tongue. It’s been weeks of this, but no matter how many times we exhaust ourselves with endless rounds of fucking, it’s never enough. I always want more.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closing. “Give me a second. I can’t walk across the parking lot with a hard-on.”

I giggle and palm his cock, which is indeed hard as granite. “I could alleviate the situation real quick.”

He groans, taking a step back. “Don’t tempt me. We did that yesterday morning, and Cy reamed my ass for being late.”

“Are you saying it wasn’t worth it? Maybe I need to work on my skills.”

“You’re trouble,” he says, pointing a finger in my direction.

“But you already knew that.”

I watch as he moves to the front door. “You’re right about that. See you later.”

“I love y—” I freeze, the sentiment nearly leaving my mouth without thought. “Your ass in those jeans.”

If he realizes the near slip, he plays it off perfectly. “I do look good in them, huh?”

Awkwardly, I wave as he walks out, lock the door after him, and slap a palm to my forehead. God, I’m an idiot. It’s only been a few weeks. That’s not nearly enough time to make a declaration of love, but isn’t that what this warm feeling in my chest is whenever I so much as think of him? Maybe not the kind of love that one feels after decades together, but it’s definitely the budding of something I know will either grow into that or destroy me.

As I fret about whether I scared the man off or not, I rinse my mug and head upstairs to grab a change of clothes. I need to shower and get myself ready for when Myla shows up. She’s been to the clubhouse before, but I’m excited to show her the place through my eyes so she can see I’m thriving and happy.

I’ve long since taken up a section of Lucky’s closet, but it’s a small section. It was a mistake to not bring much because I’ve quickly grown tired of wearing the same three outfits over and over. Maybe Myla will let me raid her closet and bring a few things home with me. Even better, I’ll shoot Lucky a text and ask if Tigger can escort us to the mall so I can grab a few more items.

Walking across the room, I grab my cell that’s been charging on the nightstand and see I have a text message waiting for me. I grin, expecting to read that Lucky’s whining about how difficult his morning walk to the Garage was, but it quickly falls when I see an image from a number that’s not programmed into my phone.

I still have the piece of shit burner, so it takes me a second to make out the pixelated image. But when I do, my legs give out, and I fall to my knees, the phone slipping from my hand and landing on the floor. Tears blur my vision as I scramble to pick it back up, hoping I was wrong.

But I’m not. Wiping my eyes, I see a picture of Myla tied to a chair, her eyes wide in terror and blood running down the side of her face from an open wound on her temple. Standing behind her is a man holding a gun to her head. It only shows him from the neck down, but I don’t need to see his face to know who he is. I’d recognize him anywhere.

I read through the accompanying message four times before the words register. Once they do, I’m on my feet, throwing on clothes and forming a plan in my head. Thanks to Sugar, I know where the keys to the vans the club owns are kept. She told me this so I could move one that was blocking her car when she needed to get to the store, but it’s coming in handy for a whole new reason now.

Rushing out the front door, I quickly scan the area. In front of me is the clubhouse’s backyard with its outdoor seating, rock-lined fire pit, and a small patch of grass. It’s not surprising that no one’s out here, given the early hour. Looking left and right, I make sure the porches of each cabin are empty and no one is walking down the gravel path that leads back to the clubhouse. Thankfully, I’m in the clear.

My heart races, and my stomach is in my throat as I jog to the clubhouse, praying I don’t run into anyone. I know my luck has run out when I step inside and see Riot sitting at the bar with a cup of coffee.

Though I’ve been living here for a few weeks, I still haven’t formally met the man with dark features and an even darker vibe, and I don’t want to change that right now. Unfortunately, it’s too late since we’re alone in the open space, and his menacing glare is freezing me in place. I fold my arms to stop him from seeing my shaking hands and take a calming breath. Of all the brothers I could’ve run into, why does it have to be him?

“Hi,” I say, wincing as it comes out as a squeak.

He says nothing as he lifts his coffee mug to his lips, his gaze still fixed on me. Every second that passes is another that my sister is being tortured by a man much scarier than this one, so I swallow my insecurities, determined to get out of here as fast as possible.

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