Shades (Reckless Souls MC 3)

“Yeah, you can help me out, baby.”

I take another step back and fold my arms, shooting him an annoyed expression before thinking that maybe I need to be ready to fight. Fighting? Where did that come from? I know nothing about fighting, but I could pretend. I slide my middle finger through my keyring with the house keys pointing out and stand a little taller. Okay, I have some moves.

“I’m listening,” I say with some attitude in my voice. “And I’m not your baby, but if I hear one disgusting word out of your mouth, you can forget about it.”

“Feisty. I like it.” He leans forward and smirk-grins in my face. I have to use every ounce of willpower the Lord gave me not to wince at his attempt at flirting.

“I’m thrilled.” My voice is deadpan and heavy with sarcasm.

He laughs, and the sound is deep and slightly rough like he puts away a couple packs of cigarettes a day.

“I like you, lady, so I’m going to give you a message, and you’re going to pass it along. Yeah?”

I swallow around the gigantic lump in my throat and nod, eyes wide even though I’m trying really hard not to show my fear.

“I’m listening,” I tell him in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” He leans in so close that his shoulder brushes against mine, and I freeze in place.

“Tell Shades that I want to see him. Soon.”

Shades. All the words he said to me last night in his drunken stupor come back to me on a wave of memories. About the women connected to bikers. Sexually assaulted. Tortured. Chained up. I shake my head to shake away the images trying to form in my head.

“I don’t know where Shades is, but I will pass along the message if I see him again.”

“Oh, come on, you’ll see him. And soon. Won’t you?” His gaze is penetrating yet menacing, and suddenly I feel that his question isn’t really a question. “Won’t you?”

“Uhm, sure. I guess I can call around and find him. Somehow.”

I know where Shades lives, and I’m sure I can get back there. It’s the last address in my navigation system.

“Who should I tell him the message is from?”

“He’ll know exactly who the message is from, sweetheart.”

The man stares at me again, and this time I know what he’s doing by towering over me and glowering down at me. He wants to intimidate me.

And it’s working.

I hold his gaze until he nods and takes a step back with a smarmy smile.

I manage to get out, “I’ll pass the message along,” without embarrassing myself too much.

“See that you do.”

“Don’t come back here again,” I tell him, my voice strong now and my insides shaking like the proverbial leaf. Before he’s out of my sight, I jump in my car, lock the doors, and turn the key.

Okay. Okay, I’m calm, or at least I’m getting there.

My mind races a million miles a minute, and I’m shaking. What do I do?

The roar of motorcycles in the distance calms me slightly but not enough, so I grip the wheel as tight as I can. I grip it until my knuckles ache and focus on that feeling.

I suck in a deep, deep breath. Then I let it out, slowly. After five or six breaths, I’m calmer. More focused.

Now that my mind is clear, I know what I have to do.

Find Shades.