Colt (Devil's Nightmare MC #10) - Lena Bourne Page 0,48
He didn’t have an official title and wasn’t one of the execs, but him and Griff were always together. Kinda like they were best friends from way back. He was a tall, lanky guy, with really long silver-grey hair. He always wore it in a ponytail down his back. It reached almost to his ass.”
I realize I’m describing Snake to them, so they’ll know if they killed him yet or not and stop talking.
“I saw him around,” Ace confirms. “But he seemed to be just part of the background.”
“Yeah, he seemed that way to me at first too,” I say. “But then I realized he was spending a lot of time with Griff. Maybe he’s snitching now?”
The president locks eyes with the men he brought, and a silent question only they seem to hear floats among them. The tall, calm guy and the one built like a tank shrug, while Ace inclines his head as if to say, Maybe.
“The bar is gone, it went up in an explosion a couple of nights ago,” the president says.
“I would’ve loved to see that,” I blurt out before I can catch myself.
The pained, nearly identical cringed expressions on their faces tell me I should have kept my mouth shut.
“The clubhouse is deserted now too, and apart from a few with families who opted to hide out at their homes, we don’t know where they’re hiding out,” the president says. “Do you?”
“That’s easy,” I say perkily. “Griff bought up this old abandoned miner’s town about twenty miles south. Piston was always going on about how cool it was, and that it was haunted. He even took me there once, and I was sure he’d finally fuck me and we’d be a thing afterward, but no, he just wanted to sit there in the dark, waiting for the ghosts to show up since it was supposed to be haunted. Like I said, he’s a little kid. Anyway, he told me it’s a place for all of them to hide out if they ever needed to. I bet they’re there.”
The president gives me a very encouraging, yet still very piercing look. “Do you remember where it is? Can you take us there?”
I nod. “I think so. It’s called Last Post, or Cave Post, or something like that, and it’s right along the old road, the one we rode to the motel on,” I say, turning to Colt. “You know?”
He nods and his eyes aren’t as soft for me as they were before his friends showed up. He’s looking at me differently and I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Good, I hope.”
“All right, here’s what’s gonna happen,” the president says. “We’ll go back and get a car, then pick you two up at that motel she’s staying at. Lucky Star, is it?”
Colt seems taken aback by the question, but recovers quickly and nods eagerly.
“We’ll be there in two hours,” the president says. “Then you’ll lead us to the town.”
Colt nods and so do I. Then the men mount up and ride off.
“That went well,” I say to Colt once the cloud of dust they’re creating swallows them up. “Didn’t it?”
He nods. “Yeah, it seemed to.”
His eyes are still very serious and appraising, and I have no idea why. I smile and he doesn’t. Instead, he mounts his bike.
“Come on, get on,” he tells me. “I’ll take you to get something to eat.”
“And drink,” I joke as I climb on.
He nods but doesn’t chuckle. Something shifted between us and I don’t know when or why, but I know it wasn’t for the better. For the first time, I’m happy to blame my budding insanity for misreading the situation. At least I really hope this feeling of disconnect where there was always an amazing connection between us is just in my head.
We found a small burger place near the motel. It’s a small mom and pop kind of place that looks like it’s been around since the 1950s, with a black and white tiled floor, booths with comfy burgundy benches and grey topped tables, and a counter that takes up most of the longest wall. The cook is leaning through the window to the kitchen that’s behind the counter, chatting with the three locals nursing beers around the dark wood counter. But they stopped talking when we entered and are staring at us like this is the first time they’ve seen humans as I lead us to the booth that’s farthest away from them. I hope this