Page 35 of Biker's Collar: Property of Scrap

“Yes. Have you made any progress? Hand the phone to Wyatt…”

I’m hoping Wyatt is the one there and not Ethan. I breathe a sigh of relief when it really is my brother.

“Hello, Owen,” he says, his voice dripping with frustration.

“I swear, Wyatt. This is bullshit. I never lost fifty grand in a dice game. I would remember that.”

“Do you have some other explanation for what’s going on that makes sense?” Wyatt asks. It’s reasonable but… I don’t.

“It’s a plot against us.”

“They want us to send Kaylee-Marie in alone with fifty-grand. Ethan has the money, but we’re not going to do that.”

“Did she tell you anything about who took Waverly?”

“She said two white guys with guns took her and she starts screaming her head off if I ask her more questions than that. She’s grief stricken.”

She might be grief-stricken, but her total lack of control isn’t helping our situation in the slightest.

“I can’t wrap my head around this.”

“It’s an important reminder not to foolishly lose custody of your children,” Wyatt says unsympathetically. “The next time you convince a woman to get near you… be more strategic.”

“I just need to know where my daughter is.”

“We’ll find out tonight. We have the money, we have a plan… I’ll bring Kaylee-Marie back and mediate things.”

“Thanks.”

Wyatt grunts and hangs up. I look over at Vickie. Fuck. Wyatt doesn’t know she’s here and I didn’t mention it. He volunteered to mediate, but Vickie’s presence will send Kaylee-Marie through the roof. I look over at her sympathetically.

“I’m in way over my head.”

“You usually are.”

“They’re gonna be here soon. We’d better go inside.”

“What? We’re just going to walk up into your ex-wife’s house?”

“We never got married,” I say to her quickly. “We had Waverly and… shit got fucked up pretty quickly after that.”

“Kaylee’s side of things sound interesting,” Vickie says. I can tell she’s trying to get a rise out of me, but it’s nothing compared to the ways Kaylee-Marie can push and needle at my sensitivities.

“Yeah, well. I bought her this house so… hopefully that makes up for things a little bit.”

“You bought her this?”

“Why else do you think I have a key?”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Vickie says. And I let her slightly sassy tone slide because if there’s a hint of jealousy in that tone, that brings me far more satisfaction than it should. It’s just the slightest suggestion that she might feel more for me than she lets on. That she wouldn’t just drug me again and escape given the chance.

“I’m not screwing her. Haven’t screwed her in years.”

“Men never let go of their baby mama,” Vickie says.

“No. Men never let go of their property.”

I grab her by the collar, pulling her against my chest and kissing her. There’s an intense surge of emotion, like what I might feel betting all my chips on a hand I’m sure I’ll lose unless I run across statistically improbable luck.

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