Edge Of Darkness (Arrow's Edge MC #2) - Freya Barker Page 0,34

Lisa. How’s he doing?”

“Stitched up and pissed he doesn’t get to go home tonight. Swelling’s pretty bad and they wanna keep an eye on him for a bit.”

“He’ll get over it.”

She chuckles. “Right. How’s my girl doing?”

“Zonked out in Lissie’s bed. Don’t worry ‘bout her. We’ve got her.” I look over at Lissie as I’m talking and she nods.

“You sure?”

“Positive. Brick looking after you?” I chuckle when her answer is a displeased grunt.

“Can I talk to her?” Lissie asks, holding her hand out and I give her the phone.

As she settles back with the phone to her ear, I head to the kitchen. Listening with half an ear to her side of the conversation, I get myself a late-night snack of leftover meatloaf, which is even better cold.

Lissie joins me in the kitchen, putting my phone on the counter.

“You’re eating that cold?”

“It’s good. Try.” I break off a chunk and feed it to her.

A mistake. I know it when she closes her eyes and makes those little moan sounds, which make me think of her naked and spread out in bed while I taste my favorite type of late-night snack. Unfortunately, with a five-year-old currently occupying the bed I had big plans for tonight, there will be none of that.

“I should head down,” I announce when she tries to stifle a yawn as I pull her into my arms.

“You don’t have to.” Her little pout is cute. “The bed is big enough.”

“Babe, not gonna share a bed with a five-year-old.”

“Probably wise,” she reluctantly agrees.

“Had plans for that bed.”

“Figured as much.” She grins, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I’m sorry your plans are spoiled once again.”

I shrug. “They say abstinence is good for the soul. Fuckin’ hope it’s true ‘cause I can tell ya—it’s hell on the body.”

Lissie

“Hello?”

I quickly slip out of the room, leaving the little girl asleep in bed.

“Bucco.” All I hear are sirens in the background until Ramirez speaks. “We’ve got a situation and it’s all hands on deck. Need you here.”

I’d gone to bed after Yuma left last night and when I couldn’t fall asleep, took my file on Dani out of the nightstand and started flipping through it. I’d been meaning to do that for a while now. Aside from a few old snapshots, it holds three postcards she sent me, and an impressive stack of journal notes I’d made over the years pertaining to my old friend. I was so sure somewhere in those notes was a reference to the Mesa Riders, but I couldn’t find it.

Less than ten minutes later, Yuma answers the door of his apartment, looking rumpled, sleepy, and all kinds of delicious in a pair of barely buttoned jeans and naked torso. I’m instantly distracted by the gorgeously tattooed chest with sparse hair filling in as it narrows down to the V of his fly.

His low growl snaps me out of my fascination and my eyes pop up to meet his tortured ones.

“Not making this easy on me, Babe,” he complains, shamelessly adjusting himself.

“Sorry,” I mumble, before giving him the reason for appearing on his doorstep at three in the morning. “I hate to do this to you, but I have to get to a scene and—”

“Kiara,” he finishes, walking back in his apartment. “Give me a sec.”

Seconds later he comes back in view, and I almost groan as he covers that yummy chest with a T-shirt.

“Go,” he says, while putting a hand along the side of my neck as he leans in for a brush of lips. “I’ve got this.”

“I owe you.”

There’s only a twitch behind his facial hair, but his blue eyes twinkle.

“Like the sound of that, Lissie.”

My grin only lasts as long as it takes for the reason for my middle of the night excursion to resurface.

Ramirez is waiting for me at a murder scene on Florida Road. The victim happens to be one of the guys on our witness list. Scott Clarkson was a laborer for Pro Concrete and one of the two club members Red Franklin put in place on the Wildcat Canyon project. This is not going to go over well. Blackfoot immediately took off to check on the welfare of the second Mesa Rider, Marty Spengler, who is renting a trailer in Hesperus.

A neighbor in the apartment building had come home after a late shift, and noticed Clarkson’s front door open. When he stuck his head inside and called the guy’s name, the first thing he saw was someone at the far end