She barely went out during the day. Where the fuck was she? Could Esposito have her already? No, he’d make Rocket look over his shoulder for a few days before trying something. It was all part of his mind games. Let the club sweat knowing he could pop up any place at any time.
Chloe was probably meeting with a client. Hopefully she’d show in the next few minutes. In the meantime, Rocket fired up his bike and rode off after his brothers to collect a group of ladies who were not going to appreciate being on lockdown.
Though the ol’ ladies were going to react a hundred times better than Chloe would.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHLOE NAVIGATED THE shopping cart through the bakery section without really seeing the loaves of bread she’d intended to choose from. She was too busy trying to combat the swell of panic.
She was having dinner with Logan.
Logan. A man. A man she’d been sleeping with, and had formed an unconventional but strong emotional bond to. To a normal person, cooking dinner for an interesting man wasn’t exactly a newsworthy event. For Chloe?
Well it might as well be the headline of the year. Not the dinner part, not even the fact that he’d have to be uncuffed for them to share the meal. There was something else she had planned for the evening.
Tonight, she wanted to try something with Logan without handcuffing him to the bed. She wanted him to touch her. Put his fingers on her and in her, and make her come that way.
She had to try it if there was any hope of ever having a semblance of a normal sex life. And she was pretty sure she’d never find a man who made her feel safer and more protected than Logan. Without even knowing what had happened to her, he was extremely protective. She’d never felt better than when Logan was with her. Those feelings had bolstered her confidence and given her the ability to venture out on her own a time or two without panic attacks. Hence this solo shopping trip.
Chloe laughed out loud drawing a few curious stares from fellow shoppers. It was one thing to be crazy in her own head, but completely another thing for the world to see her insanity. With a sheepish smile for an elderly gentleman, she scurried out of the bakery, search for French bread forgotten.
She eyed the wine section and veered her cart in that direction. Liquid courage might be the only thing to quell her nerves. As she turned toward the reds, feminine laughter had her turning toward a group of women loading a cart with bottles.
They seemed close, heads together as they looked at a bottle one of the women held. At first guess, she’d have wagered they were sisters, but the differences in their looks were too vast to make them related in that way.
“Put it in the cart,” the tallest of them said with a pout. She had a fierce look about her. A long black braid hung down the center of her back, nearly brushing her backside. “Can’t believe you all get to float away on wine while I have to drink freakin’ chocolate milk.” She patted her stomach while another of the women, this one short with curly blonde hair, rubbed her back.
Pregnant, maybe.
A smile spread across Chloe’s face. Must be nice to have a close group of girlfriends like that. Even before her kidnapping, Chloe hadn’t had a group of girls she was quite that tight with.
“All right,” another of the women said. Her back was to Chloe. “Let me grab a second bottle of this one. I think I’m gonna like it.” She turned toward the display, hand outstretched and froze statue still the moment her gaze landed on Chloe.
Shit.
Shit.
Everything inside Chloe screamed run, go, move, but she was rooted in place as though bolted to the ground.
Stephanie.
Wife, or girlfriend, or—what had she called it—ol’ lady to one of the Hell’s Handlers bikers. Not the one who’d rode her away from her personal hell, but a biker all the same. A few weeks after Chloe had been released from the hospital, Stephanie had paid her a visit. Checking in on her to see how she was handling the ordeal. Apparently, Stephanie had also been a victim of the Gray Dragon’s cruelty. At least that’s what she’d claimed. Chloe had the impression the visit was more to check on whether she’d run her mouth to the cops, or her family, or a shrink. Even though the messenger was a cute and friendly woman who could somewhat relate to Chole’s experience, she had always wondered if the visit had a more sinister undertone. Did they have eyes on her? Would something mysteriously happen to her if she disobeyed their order of no police?