Page 15 of Come Back To Me

I can’t believe she is making me wait so long until I next see her, but when I do, it’ll be worth it.

Chapter Five

DEAN

Ihang my helmet on the handlebar then pull out my smokes. Stopping in my tracks to light it, I take a moment to myself before I step inside the clubhouse. Mads put my mind at rest, as I knew she would, but I’m no less anxious about the news Travis is about to deliver. It could be Lauren. Saviours. Who knows what waits inside.

If I don’t go in, I don’t need to have my day ruined.It might not be ruined. It might be news on Lauren.It won’t be news on Lauren. I’ve been looking for that little shit for months. She doesn’t want to be found.

Blowing a smoke ring, I flick my cigarette to the ground after one drag. I need to quit anyway.

Walking to the bar, I pat Travis on the back.

He turns in his seat and nods his chin up to me. I feel his eyes assessing me, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s the only one who knows about my therapy sessions. I promised that if he ever mentioned it, I’d cut his dick off and feed it to him.

Sliding a beer across the top of the bar, I take a long swig then rub my face. I’m tired.

“Set for tonight?” Travis asks.

“Who’s in?”

“All of us except Mop and The Joker.”

I nod knowing The Joker, who transferred here from the Midlands, wouldn’t be coming. A recent run of bad luck with gambling had him pull out. Wise man. “And Riggs?” I question.

Travis signals yes as he sips his beer, then points at our newest prospect, Legs, behind the bar for another. “Vincent called.”

My stomach flips at those two simple words. I wait for Travis to elaborate but he doesn’t. “And?” I say, urging him to continue. This must be why he wanted me here earlier.

“And… well, do you want the good or the bad news?”

Fucking hell. Thereisbad news. Sod it. “Bad news.”

With a slight sigh, he takes a large mouthful of his fresh beer keeping his face forward. “No one else is privy,” he whispers.

I lean in closer, noting his quiet voice.

“A threat’s been made to the Saviours.”

I stare at the beer in my hand. “A threat? From whom?” I ask, keeping my eyes down.

“Unsure. Mop’s gone to see.”

“See?”

“There was a package.”

“A package?” My eyes flick up to look at him.

“Yes, afuckingpackage,” he snaps, all hushed at my repeating him.

I sip my beer.

“I sent Mop to check it was credible and not some bullshit.”

“Good. And the good news you had?”

“We sit down with Costa in a few weeks. Should have the first route, pick up, drop off, you name it, locked down by then,” Travis replies.

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