Hell on Wheels (Kings of Mayhem MC 4)

I didn’t know why that made me a bit warm inside.

“I haven’t seen him with anyone since he’s been back from his deployment,” Indy offered.

Oh. Okay. They thought Chance and I were involved.

“We’re not together,” I said. “He’s just helping me out.”

Chastity looked disappointed. But Indy and Honey both looked like they didn’t believe me.

“I wasn’t with Caleb either,” Honey said. “We were just friends. Now he can’t stop knocking me up.”

“And I married my best friend, so …” Indy shrugged.

I liked these women. They were funny and kind and being around them distracted me from the turmoil churning my insides.

“We really are just friends,” I insisted. Even though they didn’t believe me.

“How did you meet him?” Chastity asked, then suddenly snapping her fingers, added, “Now I remember! You played at Ruger’s welcome home party the other night.”

Inwardly, I grimaced, remembering my non-kiss with Chance.

The non-kiss I instigated and the one he ended.

“Played?” Honey asked.

“She’s a singer and a guitar player,” Chastity explained. “Had all the boys eating out of her palm the moment she stepped on that stage. She’s really good.”

Chastity was sweet.

“I wish I had been there,” Indy said. “But I pulled a late shift.”

“Indy is an ER doctor,” Chastity clarified.

“And I was having an I’m pregnant and feel as big as a whale moment, so I stayed home with a tub of ice cream and Netflix. Oh, and a husband who refused to leave me for five minutes in case I spontaneously give birth to his sons on the living room floor.”

“Can you really blame him though?” Indy asked. “You did give birth to his daughter in the backseat of my car.”

Honey laughed. “Good point.”

I was about to ask her what happened when a group of men in Kings of Mayhem cuts poured into the room and headed straight for the bar. There were about twenty of them, but Chance wasn’t with them. I looked at the clock on the wall and was surprised to see over an hour had passed.

Just as Chastity started talking to Indy about the party again, my phone buzzed with a message from a number I didn’t recognize.

I opened it and saw it was a link to a video on YouTube. I hit play and immediately my heart went to my throat as I watched a man on the screen begging for his runaway daughter to return. He was a handsome man with sandy blond hair, sparkling green eyes, and a California tan. He spoke with confidence and charm into the camera like a man in politics who was used to speaking to the media and making public appearances. He pleaded for his daughter to make contact and offered a reward for information on her whereabouts.

This is what Craig had found.

The man on the screen was famous. He was well-loved. Looked up to. And I had no doubt his political campaign would be reaping the rewards of his devastated father routine.

Anger flared in me, but it was nothing compared to the fear. Because this video meant someone knew who I was, and they knew my phone number.

Was it Craig and Missy fucking with me?

Or worse … Barrett?

I quickly turned off my phone.

Looking up I saw Chance approached the table and my stomach knotted.

“You doing okay?” he asked.

I nodded, thinking about the message and who the fuck had sent it. They were toying with me.

It had to be Barrett. This shit stank like his psychopathy.

I nodded. “Yeah, just feeling a bit freaked out about everything.”

“Bull thinks we should stay here for the night and then head out to the cabin first thing,” he said. “He’s right. We should go at first light.”

I glanced around the clubhouse. It was filling with more bikers and women in tight jeans with intimidating looks on their faces. Lights had gone on and someone had turned up the music. It looked like they were getting ready for something.

As if reading my mind, Chance explained, “Wednesday night is Fight Night. The clubhouse is about to fill up with sweaty bikers ready to bet on two men beating the shit out of each other in a ring. You might want to hang out in my room. It’s going to get messy.”

CHANCE

I took her to my bedroom.

She was quiet. Preoccupied. And she’d gone pale.

But it wasn’t because of what she’d told me back at the motel. Something had happened while I was in chapel.

“You want to tell me what’s on your mind?” I asked, shrugging out of my cut.

She looked down at her phone and hesitated before handing it to me. On the screen was a message with a video link.

Pressing play, I watched a glossy politician talking at a media conference, begging for his daughter to come home. As I watched, I realized a giant part of the puzzle had just landed in my lap.