and got her ass in gear in case the Uber driver gave up on her and left.
Taking out Caleb’s key, she unlocked and entered the apartment she’d spent a lot of time in since Nika’s brother had moved to New York. Just like the last time she’d been there, an array of blackened bike parts and the skeleton of a Harley sat in front of the window. Too bad Caleb wasn’t on the floor working on his latest project. His presence would have made it a little less awkward when she jumped after noticing two men standing by the sink.
Closing the door, she smiled. Caleb had a lot of friends, though these two didn’t look familiar. Only one of them had that biker vibe she’d come to recognize.
“Good morning,” she offered as she put the box on the couch and listened for any sounds that might indicate their host was in his bedroom or the bathroom. “Is Caleb around?”
The suit, who looked to be in his mid-thirties, was handsome in an Italian gangster sort of way with his black hair, olive skin, and dark eyes. The edge of cruelty that entered in his expression as he studied her sent a chill down Eva’s spine.
“You seeing this, Vincente?” he murmured in lieu of answering her question. Or politely returning her greeting.
She glanced at “Vincente” and saw his darker gaze was centered somewhere over her right shoulder. He had sculpted features, long black hair, and hiding a big, hard body was the expected beat-up jeans, leather jacket—no ODMC patch—and heavy boots she’d come to associate with Caleb’s boys. He was good-looking, somewhat familiar, but too killer-for-hire for her taste.
“Where’s Caleb?” she asked again, trying to ignore the suit now giving her that invasive once-over she couldn’t stand. When he lingered a moment too long on her breasts, she hid a shudder and forced her eyes not to roll. So obvious. Without even trying, he’d just made the jeans and black tank she’d thrown on that morning feel indecent.
“What’s your name, bella?”
Clearly he was the higher up of the two. Maybe the long-haired guy didn’t talk. “Eva,” she supplied. “And you are…?”
He came over. Up close his looks were without question good, but there was an emptiness in his eyes that spoke of either loss or madness. And, was it her, or had the other guy moved closer as well?
“Stefano Moretti.” He announced himself with expectation, as if Eva should recognize his name.
She didn’t. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he murmured as he looked into the box she’d brought. “Making a delivery?”
“Uh, yeah. I had some stuff to drop off on my way—” She shouldn’t be volunteering information here. Caleb would kick her ass if he heard her after all the warnings and safety tips he’d drilled into hers and Nika’s heads. “Why are you here, Mr. Moretti?”
“Please, call me Stefano.”
As he moved away, she glanced at the door, wanting to bolt. But she couldn’t. What if they’d hurt Caleb?
The quiet guy, she noted, was standing motionless next to the kitchen counter. Actually, not motionless. He was moving. His face anyway. It softened slightly as he gave her what looked to be an attempted smile that barely curved his lips. The quick wink that followed was odd.
Was he flirting? Did he have something in his eye? Was the wink meant to reassure her that they meant no harm?
Or was he attempting to lull her into a false sense of security before the assault?
Twisting her fingers together to stop the sudden sound of her nails clicking—stupid habit—she tried again, this time turning her question into a demand. “Where is Caleb.”
“If I had to guess,” Stefano finally offered in a bored voice, “I’d say at the clubhouse. Please, sit for a minute. I won’t keep you long.”
Sweet relief flowed through her. If they knew about the MC and that Caleb spent a good deal of his time at the clubhouse, they must know him pretty well. But she still couldn’t stay.
“No. I mean, no, thanks,” she corrected, striving to be polite now that she suspected he and Caleb were friendly. “I have to get to the airport.” Bending, she kept them in her periphery as she slipped Caleb’s apartment key inside a back issue of American Rider that was tucked in beside the old carburetor in the box. Not that hiding the key was necessary—since they were already in the apartment. “With the way security is these days, I’m cutting it close as