Page 2 of Wildcard's Wager

“Maybe someone should call Rafe. He can help,” Spark suggests.

“I already tried. Got his voicemail.”

“Let me see if I can track him,” Spark says. “Damn, can’t pinpoint his phone. Either it’s off or he’s out of range. However, it looks like he might have gotten your message. His last location is out near Red Rock Canyon.”

I want to go out and help with the search, but I know with Puma and most of the club out searching, I need to stay here and protect the clubhouse. Turning, I head for the door, only to stop when Spark calls me back.

“You got something?” I ask him.

“Not about Viper. Remember that credit card you told me to track?” I shake my head because I don’t remember asking him to track anything. “This was years ago, back when I first joined. You asked me to let you know if the card showed any activity. I got a notification about three hours ago. Someone used the card in Dallas to purchase airline tickets for three flights out of Dallas. One to Seattle, one to Los Angeles, and a third to here.”

“Here?” I ask, stunned to learn that she finally used the card and might be on her way back home. My heart speeds up at the news. Whether from excitement or fear, I’m uncertain. I haven’t seen Brigit in almost ten years. Why would she be coming back to Vegas now? “Okay, thanks. What time does the plane land?” Once he gives me the flight details, I go into the common room to consider my next steps.

My first step is to check my phone, but I don’t see any messages from her. Trying out the last number I have for her, I only get her voice mail. Which would make sense if she’s on an airplane. I spot Gears behind the bar and consider asking him to go to the airport to meet Brigit. If she’s on her way here. She may not be. She could be on her way to one of the other cities. Or maybe someone found the credit card and is using it. I doubtthis is the case, but I can’t deny it is a possibility. As much as I want to help her, I don’t feel like we can spare a prospect for a potentially wasted trip.

Instead, I take a seat at the bar and accept the beer Gears offers me. All I can do is wait. Which fucking sucks. I’m tense and ready to crawl out of my skin, so when my phone rings, I fumble and almost drop it in my haste to answer it. The display shows it isn’t Brigit, but Rafe calling.

“Rafe?”

“Wildcard? It’s me,” says Viper. The tension whooshes out of my body. I snap my fingers to gain everyone’s attention.

“Viper, is that you? Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine. Rafe found us. I’m not sure where we are, but I think we’re in Red Rock Canyon.”

I hear Rafe speaking on the other end before she’s back and giving me her location. Rushing down the hall, I enter Spark’s office and give him the details before assuring Viper that Max is fine and at the clubhouse.

“Puma’s on his way to her, along with the rest of the club,” Spark says.

Relieved, I step back into the common room to update everyone else. I see Reggie clasp his hands together and close his eyes as if in prayer. Reggie is the first man out the door when Hunter announces everyone is back. I follow to watch the reunion.

We’re deep into our celebration when Viper asks Puma about a name I haven’t heard in almost a decade. Preacher.

“Wait? He lives here? Fuck, I haven’t seen him in years. He got five years in the pen, just before you joined,” I say. “I did him a favor after his sentencing, but when I tried to visit him, he wouldn’t see me. I wonder if this is a coincidence?”

“What?” Rafe asks.

“Nothing. Fuck, I need to talk to him.”

“I can call him. Convince him to come see us,” Viper offers. She pats her kutte a few times before cussing. “Fuck, I don’t have my phone.”

“Use mine,” Rafe offers.

I have to wonder if Preacher’s return has anything to do with Brigit leaving Boston and possibly heading in this direction. Maybe Preacher is the reason she’s coming home. The thought that she might be with him has me out the door as soon as Gears announces that Smooth’s let Preacher through the gate. Once outside, I glance at Preacher behind the wheel, but my eyes search for Brigit. I don’t see her. I also don’t see the anger in Preacher’s eyes or the gun in his hand until I feel a flash of pain in my chest. The last thing I remember is Preacher asking me how much I got for Brigit. What the fuck?

CHAPTER TWO: BRIGIT

Glancing at my watch, I’m happy to see that I’m not as late as I thought. After the morning from hell where nothing was where it was supposed to be, I figured my chances of getting to work on time were nil. Maybe my luck is changing as I back into a spot only a few steps away from the rear entrance to the hotel where I work. Once inside, I head to my office to prepare for the day. I have a stack of applications to review. As the HR Manager, I always have a stack of applications to sort through. There is a constant stream of applications for every position, from bartenders to valets. My job may not be exciting, but it pays the bills.

As I unlock my office door, I hear raised voices coming from my boss’s office. Mike Perry has managed the hotel for ten years. He hired me years ago when I first moved to Boston. We’re friendly, but not friends. Concerned, I move closer to his office. His door is open just enough that I can see Mike isn’t sitting behind his desk. Someone else is. The sound of flesh hitting flesh followed by a grunt has me shifting to get a different angle of the room.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls, Mike,” says a gravelly voice with a bite of fury in his tone. “That was your second mistake. Want to tell me what your first mistake was?”

“How the hell was I supposed to know he was an undercover cop?” I hear Mike say in a muffled voice.

I push open the door further when I hear another grunt of pain. That’s when I see Mike tied to a visitor’s chair. Two men in suits stand on either side of him. The man on Mike’s right returns to a standing position, his right fist still clenched. The man behind the desk stands and steps around it. I recognize him as a regular visitor to our hotel. Misha Orloff. Rumor is he’s head of the Bratva in Boston.

“You’re supposed to vet our clientele. You think the cartel or the brotherhood will buy from us after what happened last night?” Misha asks, shaking his head. “How did he slip through?”

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