“Oh God!” I cried.
His hands came to my shoulders and squeezed.
“Babe, we’re…on it.”
I stared up into his very, very blue eyes.
“Trust me,” he said softly.
I just kept staring up into his very, very blue eyes.
I didn’t trust bikers. Again unfortunately, I’d known a lot of them and the ones I knew were not trustworthy.
But staring into his eyes, standing there still drunk, totally alive, with bikers going out to take care of my kids, a call being made to my man and not being in a car whisked to the unknown but definitely unsafe with the Russian mob, I trusted him.
So I nodded.
He squeezed my shoulders.
Then he said quietly, “I’ll be back. Stay here.”
I nodded again.
Then he was gone and I was staring at a closed door.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
They Come Outta This Alive, They’re Mine
What was probably fifteen minutes later but felt like fifteen days, the door opened and I turned to see another rough, gruff biker, this one younger, standing in it, hand to the doorknob, eyes on me.
“You come with me,” he ordered then he was no longer in the doorway.
I hurried out of the room after him then hustled down the hall. He turned and I turned with him to see Gwen and LaTanya were standing at the bar in the biker rec room. I also distractedly noted my purse was sitting on the bar.
LaTanya immediately broke away from Gwen and came to me, her face awash with relief at seeing me alive and unharmed. This was quickly followed by concern when she got a good look at my face.
“Honey, are you okay?” she asked, arriving at me and grabbing my upper arms.
“No,” I whispered.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“Bill,” I answered, still whispering.
Her face scrunched, indicating she got me and was still worried but now also pissed off.
“We got your purse,” she told me softly, her hands giving my arms a squeeze. “But the bad news is, about seven motorcycles rode over your phone. It’s dust.”
Fabulous.
“Yo!” We heard and we both jumped, LaTanya letting me go and turning toward the bar and my eyes going there to see Elvira had popped up from behind it. She had her gaze trained on the young biker who was with us. “You got any vodka?” she asked him.
I stared.
Only Elvira would make herself at home in a motorcycle club’s rec room.
“You don’t find it back there, we don’t got it,” young biker replied.