Page 98 of Rook

My mind was shooting off in a million different directions at once. None of those paths particularly well-lit or leading anywhere positive.

“Alright, look,” Coach said, grabbing my other shoulder too. “Take a breath and calm your ass down. You aren’t helping Tessa if you’re lost in your own useless fears.”

He wasn’t wrong.

The rest of the club—and even the women who didn’t have kids to watch after—were out looking for her. While I lost my shit on the side of the road.

I sucked in a deep breath, feeling it narrow my thoughts down. So I took another. And another.

“There you go,” Coach said, releasing me. “Now tell me what I don’t know about Tessa’s past.”

Which was everything. Since she told my brothers even less than she told me.

“She grew up in biker clubs. Bad ones, from the sound of things. And I think she was… running from someone. Someone powerful.”

“An ex?”

“That’s my best guess.”

“Okay. Before we go assuming he found her, is there any way hecouldhave found her?”

“I dunno. Maybe. Yeah. I think marriage records are public in California. But, I mean, that’s some serious digging to get to that.”

“There’s no other way she could have—”

“Fuck,” I growled, leaning back to look up at the sky.

“What is it?”

“She got a ticket driving home from visiting my mom.”

“Those are public in California,” Coach said.

“Yeah, they are. And easier to find than the marriage records, I’d think. For a novice.”

“Alright. So, it’s possible he tracked her here. But how did he get her out of her car?” he asked, gesturing toward it. “If she saw him, she never would have gotten out willingly, if she was on the run from him.”

“True.”

“How could he have gotten her then?”

My gaze lifted to him then as my mind narrowed to a precision point.

“Grocery delivery,” I said. “He could have ordered groceries.”

“And if he did—”

“The app would have the record of the address,” I said, practically lunging across the front seat to grab her phone.

Only to find it locked.

My heart clenched at her lock screen—the picture of us at our wedding, my forehead pressed to hers.

“Locked?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Can you… hack in?”

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