Page 32 of At the Edge of Surrender

“You got something more for me than just a first name?”

“Nope.”

“This shit is ridiculous,” he grumbled.

“Are you telling me you can’t handle it?”

“Nah, just saying I don’t know what the hell you’re up to, but you’d better be careful, whatever it is.”

My phone vibrated with an incoming message, and I pulled it away so I could read it.

Cash

Pick your poison.

Cash

Emory Ryson – Summer rental 3495 W. Oak Lane, Unit 2

Cash

Emery Voss - The Lodge at Moonlit Ridge Room 7143 Reserved through Monday

Dude was good, that was for sure.

“Don’t be a dumb fuck with how you use that information and make me regret it, yeah?”

Relief gusted through me. “Don’t worry, brother. This info is going to be used exactly as I intended it.”

I hung up without saying anything else and hurried into the closet, grabbed a fresh tee from a hanger and tossed it on, before I was back out in my bedroom and shoving my feet into my boots. I had them laced and was downstairs on the count of three, nabbing my keys from the entryway table before I went flying out the door.

Took the porch in four steps and ran to my bike.

I’d had it since all the way back when my crew and I had riddenwith the Iron Owls MC, when our shady lives had taken a sharp dive into the depraved.

It was the first bike I’d ever owned, and it was my fucking pride and joy.

Matte black and accented in a dusty brown. Wide and thick, squatty where she sat low to the ground.

I swung my leg over and hooked the heel of my boot on the kick starter, driving it hard as I pulled back on the accelerator.

Took two tries before the powerful engine sputtered to life with a roar.

Then I turned it to the driveway and flew.

One destination in mind.

Because there was one name that resonated.

One thing that pulsed through me with certainty.

Emery Voss.

And somewhere inside me, I knew she had a secret that was going to change everything.

EIGHT

EMERY

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