Jewell (Biker Bitches 7)

“The sooner, the better … for her and Arin. Hennessy says Arin has barely slept since she has been taken and jumping at shadows. If you knew Arin, it shows how devasted Elizabeth’s kidnapping has been for her. Arin has never been afraid of anything her whole life.”

“Did The Last Riders double-check that her roommates didn’t have anything to do with the kidnapping?”

“Yes. Shade cleared them within two days. The roommate’s boyfriend also.”

“Shade seems to be a pretty cool dude.”

“Is that all the questions you have concerning Elizabeth?”

Rory watched Jewell purse her lips in a tight line.

“Pretty much.”

She definitely wasn’t willing to discuss The Last Riders. Her loyalty toward them ran deep.

“Good night, Jewell.”

Getting up from the bed, Rory grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt from the suitcase after laying out what he was going to wear tomorrow. Zipping the suitcase closed, he then grabbed the sweatpants and went into the private bathroom attached to the bedroom.

His jaw dropped when he saw the shower. It had him wanting to tear his out and dupe the one he was about to step into.

The bathroom was nearly as big as the bedroom, the majority of the space being taken up by the shower. Aesthetically designed to beguile someone inside to do more than shower, at least four or more could fit inside comfortably with two overhead rain shower attachments that Rory could price with little effort since he had one in his home.

Stepping down the sunken step, he turned the water on as he gazed at the vast array of shampoos, conditioners, and body washes with exotic scents. Washing off with the least feminine scent he could find, he luxuriated under the hot spray. He might never leave.

Tiredness suddenly beat down at him after he rinsed his hair. Turning off the water, Rory got out to grab the towel he had taken out of a small closet next to the vanity and wrapped it around his waist before he took another from the closet to rub his hair dry.

Walking into the bedroom, still drying his hair, Rory studied the room without the distraction of Jewell’s presence.

The bed was massive. He moved toward the headboard and studied the thick wood then went to the bureau that sat along one wall, seeing that, unlike the dresser, you had to have a key to open it.

Draping the towel around his shoulders, he went to his suitcase to take out a slim leather pouch. Thin nail file in hand, Rory went back to the bureau. He slid the file into the keyhole and managed to open the two doors.

Giving an appreciative whistle, he used the file to lock the bureau back up before returning to the bathroom, where he hung up the towels then put on the sweatpants and T-shirt.

Yawning, he went to the bed to move the suitcase and his backpack before lying down, not perturbed in the least that he would be sleeping in a room that was a playground in disguise for The Last Riders.

This place beat the hell out of staying with King watching him with his eagle eyes every time he tried to talk to Evie. He hadn’t been surprised when King had shown him the door after he caught Evie and him sharing his favorite whiskey that he had thought hidden from her. How was he supposed to know King got so possessive over his whiskey? Rory laughed at his humor. If anyone had told him that King would become jealous over a woman, he would have called them a liar.

His humor vanished at the thought of the reason he had been sent for. Incog was a fucked-up mess of a human being. The man had fantasies that turned his blood cold, which was why he had maintained contact with him. He displayed the worst characteristics, which anyone in the sex industry kept a watchful eye out for. Rory hoped the person who was behind Elizabeth’s kidnapping had a firm hold on Incog. If not, there wasn’t anything he could do to save her. She was already gone.

Chapter Eight

The smell of food woke Jewell from a deep sleep. Groggily reaching for her cell phone, she looked at the time before rolling over onto her stomach to try to go back to sleep.

“You are not getting up,” she mumbled into her pillow. How often were you allowed to sleep late and stay in bed?

A rumble from her stomach had her releasing an aggravated sigh as she lifted herself into a sitting position.

Her internal clock wasn’t going to let her take advantage of not having to work. So, she pulled on her favorite pair of worn jeans and an old T-shirt of Nickel’s. Making her way down to the kitchen, she opened the swinging door.

Fuck. She should have stayed in bed.