Page 26 of Nevada

“No foreplay, huh? I dig that, straight into it. How soon can you be at the clubhouse?”

I walk back toward my desk, holding the cell against my shoulder and shrug into my denim jacket. “I’m leaving now.” I gather my blades, shoving them into the sheath hidden inside my boots. I have a handgun permit and I slide them into the double draw shoulder holster. A girl has to be prepared for all weathers.

“Don’t you need the address?” I hear the cheer in his tone, like he knows exactly what I’m going to say next.

“I’m not an amateur, I know where your clubhouse is.”

He snickers. “Of course you do.”

I hang up, shoving my cell in my back pocket as I tug my arm through the other sleeve.

“I take it we’re going out?”

“Nevada said he had intel.” My heart races with anticipation. He wouldn’t lead me to another dead end, would he? I internally facepalm myself. Of course he would.

He’ll stop at nothing to taunt me and get what he wants, but surely he wouldn’t be this cruel. All I do in between jobs is look for her. I only went back to taking new jobs on a couple of weeks ago because my cash flow was drying up. In a way it felt disloyal going back to work while my sister is still missing. It’s like the world just keeps on turning no matter how much your entire world is falling apart. It doesn’t stop no matter how broken you are inside. One thing I’ve learned in this game over the years is how much this city will swallow you whole if you let it. It waits for nobody. Neither does time.

I used to tell everyone that time was our most precious commodity. Not money. Or Power. Or nice pretty things. But time. Now time is my biggest enemy. No matter how much of it passes, my sister is still out there alone, being forced to do God knows what. And here I am, a private investigator and I can’t even find her. I have crumbs. Nothing concrete, and every lead turns into another dead end then another.

I want to scream. I want to punch something. I want to yell at the world that it isn’t fair, but that’s not going to bring Tilly back.

“Hey?” Halo rests a hand on my shoulder. “Come back to me.”

I do this a lot. I drift off, thinking unimaginable thoughts. Torturing myself. I smile weakly. “You’re coming with me?”

She looks affronted; her eyebrows knitting together. “Uh, duh. I’m not letting my best friend go into a biker’s clubhouse alone. What kind of friend would that make me?”

I quirk a brow. “Are you sure you’re not just tagging along to get a look at Cutie Pie one more time?”

“I think that name kinda suits him. It’s Riot, by the way.”

“Riot? That doesn’t sound good.”

“I think it sounds very good. Like peanut butter and jelly good.”

I smile wider. “Uh, huh. Just remember, as much as they play devil's advocate and pretend to be the good guys, they still run with the Irish mafia.”

Yeah, I heard all about that and the shit that went down with the Devils Ink and the mob. I have friends in low places for a reason.

“Okay, Mom.”

I roll my eyes. “Let’s go.”

She nods in my direction. “You packed a few weapons there, friend. You think this’ll turn ugly?”

“I hope not.” I shrug. “They claim to be a legit club, so let’s see how legit they really are.”

“Oh, no. You’re going to pick a fight, aren’t you?”

I press my hand to my heart and bat my eyelashes “Would I do a thing like that?”

“Yes, if you don’t get your own way.”

I shrug carelessly. She’s right. If things don’t go as planned then it means I start from scratch. It’ll put all the time and resources we’ve already spent to bed, and it won’t help bring Tilly home.

“I guess they’d better play ball then, hadn’t they?”

“Hello,” the tall, cute guy wearing an apron says, giving us a friendly wave. “I’m Manny. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

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