Page 55 of Rio's Release

I ease into the cushioned seat. “I picked up a nail. A cargo van stopped to help. Only saw the driver. I followed him to the back of his van. Said he had some tools. Someone got the jump on me. Hit me over the head. Next thing I know, I woke up out in the desert, beat to shit, vultures pecking at my body.”

“Well, they stole your bike,” Blue adds.

“How did you fucking find me out here?” I ask again, hissing in pain.

Blue lifts his chin to Zig. “He’s the one figured it out.”

I look at Zig.

“You weren’t answering your damn phone. When we tracked it and found it, I used the app I installed on your phone to find your wallet. Guess it’s still in your back pocket.”

“Strange they didn’t take it,” I mutter.

Mauler lifts a hand toward my chest. “Who the fuck looks at that president patch on your cut and messes with the Saint’s Outlaws, let alone its president?”

“Another fucking club,” I mutter, then stiffen, locking eyes with Zig. “The DKs.”

“You think it was them? You think they were following you, looking for an opportunity?”

“I think we need to find out if Right Way Plumbing is a real company.”

“Who?” Zig asks.

“The guy who stopped. His shirt said Right Way Plumbing. The name embroidered on it was Stan.”

“Let’s get you to the clubhouse, Rio,” Zig says, climbing behind the wheel. Blue and Bandit climb into the backseat of the crew cab, and Mauler and Bagger climb into the bed of the pickup, and we head out.

Every bump and jostle sends pain shooting through my ribs. If they’re not broken, they’re fucking bruised as hell, and I grit my teeth.

Zig lifts his chin. “There are some pain killers in the glove box.”

I dig through it and pop one, chasing it with the bottle of water he passes me, guzzling the entire bottle.

“Thirsty?” Zig asks with a grin.

“Yeah, VP. I was lying out in the desert for God knows how long.” I flip the visor and look in the mirror. My face is battered, and on top of that, my skin is sunburned. “Goddamn it.”

“Yeah, you don’t look so good,” Zig adds with a chuckle.

“I’m supposed to see Shelby Sunday,” I mutter.

“You might want to reschedule that, at least until your face looks better.”

I slam the visor back in place. “This turns out to be those fucking DKs, I swear they’re going to pay for this.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Healing

Rio—

“How’re you feelin’?” Zig asks when I take a stool at the bar and wave Blue over.

“Give me an Irish Coffee,” I say, dragging a hand through my hair. It’s the only part of my body that doesn’t hurt. Glancing in the new mirror we hung behind the bar, I take in the damage. The swelling around my eye and cheek has gone down, but the bruising has turned an ugly purple and yellow.

Thank God my nose wasn’t broken, but after a trip to the ER and a scan, I found out I’ve got two fractured ribs. There’s not much I can do except take it easy and pop pain killers.

Unfortunately, I can’t ride for a while.

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