Colt gestured with his chin. Reap and Boxer came down off the porch and went to Richie’s body. “Go back inside, darlin’,” Colt said, still holding onto me. “I’ll be there in a bit.” To Reap and Boxer he said, “This could be a trap. Get this body out of here now before the cops show up.”
He let me down and I bolted for the clubhouse, wanting to forget what I’d just seen.
Women from the party had finally begun to stir. They were too hungover to peer at me with much interest as they began slithering into their microscopic clothes. There was no chatter or greetings. They grabbed their belongings and stumbled toward the exit. When the clubhouse was finally quiet, I looked around at the mess, hating the disorder. I sprung into action immediately and began to clean up.
When the living room was spotless, I tackled the kitchen. After an hour, Colt and his brothers walked into the clubhouse. They looked around the living room and into the open kitchen, their faces shifting from subdued to confused.
“It’s clean in here,” Reap said. “It wasn’t clean when we left.”
“I needed something to do,” I said with a shrug.
“And now you’re cooking?” Boxer asked, his face slack in amazement.
“Bacon and fried eggs. Is that okay with everyone? It’s all I can really manage with my wrist.”
There was a round of nods and murmurs.
Boxer looked at Colt. “If you don’t officially make her your Old Lady, I call dibs.”
Colt glared at him.
Boxer held up his hands. “Never mind. I don’t want to get my ass pistol whipped.”
The oven timer dinged and I removed the bacon. Before long, everyone had a plate and they were devouring their food.
“Have you eaten yet?” Colt asked me, his hand reaching out to push a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Just coffee. I’m not hungry.”
His hand slid down my body to rest on my hip. “You’re too thin as it is.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Too thin? I thought men liked thin.”
Colt leaned in and said, “Men like tits and ass.”
“You wouldn’t be trying to distract me from the Richie thing, would you?”
“Is it working?”
I picked up my cup of coffee and didn’t answer. I didn’t want to know what they’d done with him or how they were handling it.
His brown gaze was steady. “Let’s go for a drive.”
Thanks were called out as Colt and I left. I stepped out into the sunshine. I looked around, expecting to find danger at my back, but there was nothing except the clubhouse on a stretch of wide-open land.
Colt opened the passenger door of his truck for me and I scrambled inside. He shut the door and then went around to the driver’s side. He started the engine and then we were driving through the open gate, past the guarding prospects who were now awake and on duty.
“Give it to me straight, Colt,” I said, looking out the window.
“Sure you can handle it?”
“No.”
He was quiet and then, “You saw the burns on Richie’s chest, yeah? It was the Iron Horsemen logo.”
A surge of bile swam in my belly. “He was tortured—before they killed him?”
“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “And they dumped him on Blue Angel territory. It’s a message for us…and for you.”
“So they know, then? Dev knows I came to you?
“He knows,” he said. “Your truck has been parked at the Blue Angels garage for the past week.”
“You lied to me this whole time? You told me it was still at my house…”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew you’d want to leave town the moment you got your truck back.”
“Damn right.”
Colt’s face was grim. “Why is Dev after you even though you know nothing about what Richie was up to? Any way you cut it, Dev thinks you’re involved.”
I cleared my throat. “It might be more than that…”
When I paused, Colt said, “Go on.”
“He made no secret about wanting me in his bed.”
His jaw clenched. “Not shocked by that at all, but I don’t think Dev would do this for that reason. There’s more to it. I’m telling you, he thinks Richie clued you in.”
“I overheard them talking,” I said slowly, remembering the night I’d first met Dev. “Dev asked Richie if I knew anything about their arrangement, and Richie said no. They were talking business, something about a shipment. Richie disappeared for a few nights and then resurfaced and asked me to take him to the bus depot.”
“Ah, fuck. You definitely can’t leave town now. Not until all this shit is sorted. He’ll just come after you.”
“You had my truck this whole time,” I murmured. “I could’ve gotten out. I could’ve started a new life.”
“Tell yourself that if you want,” he rumbled. “But you don’t know Dev like I know Dev.”
“You know Dev?”
“Yeah.” He paused, like he wanted to say more.
“Go on. You can tell me.”
He shot me a look of dark amusement. “You’re already mad at me. Like I want to give you more ammo?”
“I’m not mad,” I said slowly.
“Liar.”
“Fine. I’m mad. You could’ve helped me get out of town as soon as you got my truck. Why didn’t you?”
“Dev would’ve found you. Just like he found Richie, but this is deeper than you running from Dev. The Iron Horsemen came for you in the middle of the night. When you told me that, I realized something’s been going on in my own backyard. I’m gonna find out what it is.”
I looked out the window to get away from his intense stare. “You still didn’t tell me about you knowing Dev.”
“We’ve had sit downs in the past. Hashing out territory disputes, that sort of thing. But we avoid each other. Our clubs don’t get involved in each other’s shit. Until you.”
“Until me? Why?”
He was silent for a long moment, long enough for us to drive into a restaurant parking lot.
Colt looked at me, his hands resting on the steering wheel. “Because you made it personal.”
“Am I supposed to be flattered?”
“Take it however you want. The Blue Angels and the Iron Horsemen weren’t enemies. Not until now. But if Richie’s ass isn’t enough and they come after you…then they’ll start a war. I told you I’d keep you safe, and I meant it.”
“Even if that means never letting me go?”
His gaze softened. “Yeah, darlin’. Even if that means never letting you go.”
When I turned away from him, his hand gently reached out to grasp my chin and forced my gaze to his.
“If you really wanted to leave Waco, you would’ve demanded it. You would’ve kicked and screamed, you would’ve begged. You would’ve offered to trade in your piece of shit truck for a fucking Honda—something you can drive with a busted wrist. But you didn’t, did you? You put up the bare minimum fight. You know why?”
Mutely, I shook my head.