Page 48 of Wolf

Melanie shoves her on the shoulder. “You calling me a liar?”

The other woman shoves her back and bewildered I watch them drop to the ground and roll around.

Still standing over them, I step back when they get too close and say, “So, um. Is that a, no?”

For my efforts, I get no answer, and I suspect these two could be at it for a while. Now what?

At least I can confirm that Wolf’s crew is here because she is. I mean, they all stick together, right? I just need to find someone else I recognize and ask.

Circling the crowd once more, I keep an eye out for the patch I know signifies the Shadow Saints MC.

My feet ache. My head is following suit, and I just want to sit down. Wiping my mouth, I bite back the bitter tang of disappointment and back away. I need to go because the longer I stand here, the stupider I feel.

When I turn, I run into a wall of flesh and lean back when Maddox, whose car I hid behind says, “Hey, you’re still here.”

“Um, hey,” I say, stepping back. Although his warm chest felt good against my chilled skin, I don’t know this man and I need to be cautious.

Glancing at the track, I ask, “How was the race?”

He chuckles and waves over his shoulder. “You didn’t watch?”

“Well, no.”

“Wow.” He clutches his chest and staggers back and I laugh at his silly antics.

He’s cute and funny and lighthearted. Why can’t I feel tingles when he looks at me the way he is right now?

Shoot.

“You wanna party?” he asks.

I don’t sense anything nefarious from this cute guy, but I know I should go home. Except when I glance over his shoulder, I spy some dude gesturing at me lewdly while he licks his lips.

Ugh.

“Yes,” I say and my new friend smiles.

“Cool.”

Wolf

I’m circling the damn track for the fifth time when Joker strolls up. That ridiculous rainbow bright mohawk is hard to hide.

“Anything?” he grunts, and I shake my head.

“Nope.” Frustration boils through me and I swing at the first thing I see which happens to be a damn tree.

My knuckles sting for my efforts but I’m tired of all roads leading to fucking nowhere. What’s the point of having people on the lookout if we can’t get any good intel?

“Yeah,” Joker says, rubbing his chin. “Me neither. It’s like the fuckers know everything we’re doing before we do.”

We share a look, and I mutter, “I’m so fucking tired of this shit.”

“Me too, son,” he says.

Last night, someone intercepted another of our drops. Our guys got out this time and we took another Aces scumbag, but this one was a tough nut to crack.

While I admired his loyalty and sheer determination to withstand Jersey’s torture, I’m disappointed that we got nothing from the asshole.

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