Page 52 of Frenemies

I pursed my lips and nodded because what the fuck else was I gonna do? Give him tips on how to torture and murder a girl? I could try and find out who she was and give her a heads up. I doubted that would end well for me, though. Wilder was clearly waiting for a response, so I looked up and tried to think of one.

Yeah, I got nothing.

A sudden explosion rocked through the air, saving me from this fucked up conversation. While I stood there for a second, staring at the pillar of flames erupting near the entrance, Wilder jumped off the pedestal and kicked open a panel.

“It’s probably just a gator,” I said when he pulled out a rifle.

He didn’t say a word. He just gave me a look and took off toward the explosion. I shook my head. Paranoid fucker probably thought it was some military assassin.

My ears perked up at the sound of three quick pops of gunfire, followed by someone yelling, “Where the fuck is that coming from?”

Well, shit, maybe it was some military asshole.

I pulled out my Glock, popped a bullet in the chamber, and headed down the same path Wilder did—I wasn’t gonna risk going some other way. Before I caught up, a smaller explosion rumbled in the ground under my feet.

By the time I got there, Wilder was standing over four dead Reapers. All of which were extra crispy and in pieces. I was kind of sad about the bikes, though. Poor Harleys never saw Wilder coming.

I walked up to one with a bleeding hole between his eyes and kicked his shoulder. I’d recognize the dumbass look on this prick’s face anywhere. If Harris was my brother’s righthand man, then Scab was his left.

It was the three of them that orchestrated the massacre of The Lost Souls, and this traitorous motherfucker was responsible for half of those deaths.

Asshole probably saw me coming in here alone and thought I’d be an easy target. Scab had his nose shoved so far up Harris’s ass he could smell what the fucker had for breakfast.

“That’s what you get for following Harris,” I grumbled and kicked him again. “Fucking prick.”

“Harris?” Wilder’s brow arched. “As in Murphy?”

How the fuck did he know Harris’s last name? “Yeah?”

Wilder tipped his head down at the dead Reapers, then turned around and walked away. “I’m in.”

“Wait,” I yelled out after him. “You don’t even know what I want.”

* * *

I pulled backinto the compound, unsure how I felt. Wilder agreed to help us a little too easily for my comfort. Did I ask questions? Fuck, no. As long as he was on our side, who cared. All in all, I was feeling pretty good about how things went. That is until I saw a familiar red car parked in front of the clubhouse.

I kicked the stand out and glared over at Snake, who was leaning on the wall next to the door with his arms crossed. “I made it very clear. She wasn’t allowed in.”

“Tell that to Playboy.”

Fucking, Tanner.

Sighing, I bent over and pinched the bridge of my nose before getting off my hog and marching for the door.

“Where is he?”

Snake shrugged. “He took off.”

Of course, he did. Fucker better bring some medical supplies back with him.

“Where is she?”

He answered by lifting his gaze up to the top floor window. “Want me to grab a couple of the boys and kick her ass out?”

It wasn’t a bad idea. I wouldn’t have to see her that way. Unfortunately, all I could think about was, what if she got hurt? Naomi didn’t make anything easy—she sure as hell wouldn’t leave without a fight.

“No,” I scrubbed a hand down my face. “I’ll deal with it.”

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