Page 80 of Lucky's Trouble

“Okay, good talk.” I step behind the bar and into the kitchen, stopping only long enough to grab a set of van keys. Tucking them in my pocket, I walk back out. “Have you seen Sugar?”

Once again, I’m met with no response. God, I hate this guy. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be able to hold myself back from ripping him a new asshole for being so rude, but there’s no time for that. I’ll never see him again after today, so that’s one thing to be thankful for.

But if that’s true, then I’ll also never see Lucky again.

Tears prick my eyes, but I’m quick to blink them away because it doesn’t matter what I’m losing—only that my sister will be okay.

Ignoring the asshole, I walk out the front door and to the left, where there are three nondescript white vans on the side of the building. Pulling the keys out of my pocket, I get a hit of good luck when they unlock the first van I come to. I slip into the driver’s seat, start it up, and slowly pull forward, trying to keep the sound of crunching gravel to a minimum.

I pull up to the gate that has a metal post with a keypad mounted to it. Lucky and I have been in and out so many times, I couldn’t help but memorize the code he typed in each time. Or maybe I knew it would always come to this when I needed an escape plan. I don’t know. Either way, my shaky finger enters the code, and I hold my breath as the creaky gate opens.

When I’m not bombarded by bikers trying to find out who’s taking a van, I breathe a sigh of relief and pull out onto the road. As I barrel toward the highway, I keep an eye on my rearview, making sure I’m not being followed. It feels too easy when I make it to the busier road and am not chased down, but maybe the vans are in and out so frequently that no one questions it. Reaching over to the passenger seat where I tossed my cell, I glance down to read the message once more.

You for her. Come alone or she dies

He didn’t have to tell me where to go because I’d spent hours upon hours at the Thirst Trap and had long since memorized the cheap vinyl chair Myla was tied to and that tacky carpet in the background.

Biting my lip, I toss the phone back down and place both hands on the steering wheel, gripping it so tight, my knuckles turn white. Anger rolls through me until I can’t take it anymore, and I scream, not caring if the passing cars see my distress.

I’m so fucking pissed at Lucky. It’s misguided since Neal is the one with a gun to Myla’s head, but the only reason I’m in this situation is because of him. If he had just minded his own damn business and not come to the club that night, Myla wouldn’t be in this mess, and I wouldn’t have believed things could be different for me.

I would’ve recovered from Neal’s punishment, and things would’ve gone back to normal. Sure, that normal sucked and eventually I’d fuck up again, and maybe Neal would’ve kicked me to the escort side, but I was already resigned to that being my life. Then Lucky had to come and put hearts in my eyes, convincing me he could protect me. Now I have to live the rest of my shitty life knowing there’s better out there. A better man, a better life, a better home, and a better family.

I pull off the highway and park in front of a gas station five miles from the club. After tucking the keys in the visor, I pull up the phone number for a cab company and make a quick call. I only have cash, so I’m thankful that even with the influx of technology, this was still an option.

I sit down on the curb next to the van to complete my final task. Before I have time to doubt myself, I quickly type out a text and hit send. Setting the phone down next to me, I lean over and hug my thighs as I allow my tears to fall.

This is how it was always meant to be, and I was dumb to think otherwise.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

LUCKY

My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I ignore it and continue removing the cylinder head bolts from the engine I’m working on. It’s probably Tinleigh telling me Myla picked her up. I’m still not sure it’s a good idea for her to leave the compound, but I know she’s been bored. It does make me feel better knowing Tigger will be close by.

“Lucky!” someone shouts, drawing my attention away from what I’m doing. I frown when I spot the red-headed prospect who’s supposed to be with my woman jogging toward me. “She’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?” I ask, pulling a rag out of my back pocket and wiping my hands.

He rubs the back of his neck, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. “Tinleigh. She told me she and Myla were leaving around ten. I knocked on the door at ten ’til, and there was no answer. Your door was unlocked, so I went inside, and she ain’t there.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I roar, pushing past him to look for myself. There’s a good chance she’s out front waiting or in the clubhouse. I don’t know, but she wouldn’t have left without him.

“Wait,” he calls after me. “There’s one more thing.”

I freeze. “What?”

“A van’s missing.”

“Missing?” A rock settles in my stomach.

“I asked around and texted everyone who could’ve taken it. None of the brothers have it.”

Then I remember the text from minutes ago. Pulling out my cell, I see it’s from Tinleigh, and I know without reading it that I’m not going to like what it says.

Please keep Myla safe. We both know she’s the only one deserving of your protection. Don’t look for me. I don’t want to be found. You’ll find your van at the Quick Stop on University Way

What the fuck? This makes no sense. Everything was fine this morning. Had this happened two weeks ago, I’d have believed every word, but not now. There’s no way.

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