He nodded to Blazer, and they took off. Got on their bikes and roared out of the lot. Blazer flipped me a tattooed middle finger as he rolled past.
I watched them go.
I would never have believed Piper—that this had nothing to do with me or Summer and therefore we owed no debt to the Kings for it—except that in this case, I knew it was true. It had everything to do with Piper looking out for his brother, and a whole lot of shit to do with the Kings and the Sinners that I’d rather not know about.
One thing I did know: now that Blair Sanchuk—God help him—was on the Kings’ radar, he wasn’t likely to show his face again. Call it survival of the fittest, street style.
A lowlife like that was bound to cross the wrong someone, somewhere along the line. And it looked like he’d just crossed that line.
If Piper said he’d be dealt with, he’d be dealt with. And maybe that should’ve made me feel better.
It didn’t.
That gut feeling of mine? The fucking instinctual twitch that I never ignored? It was going off right now, itching at the base of my skull.
Everything about this job felt… off.
It was getting messier by the minute.
More complicated than it should’ve been.
Between the police, the Kings, and the show of protection that Summer now had around her at all times, I should’ve been feeling better about her situation.
But I didn’t.
At least now I was pretty damn sure the restraining order was guaranteed.
I went to my car and put my bag in the trunk, slid into the driver’s seat. Then I pulled out my phone to text Naveen.
Me: Let tail know, watch for Kings. I want to know if he sees them around.
Me: Or any nefarious dudes at all who aren’t Sinners.
Naveen got back to me right away. The man lived with a BlueTooth bud in his ear.
Naveen: Piper?
Me: He’s invested.
Naveen: Great. Watch your back.
Yeah, I’d be doing that.
I pulled out of the lot and headed for my apartment.
I wasn’t afraid of Piper and his club. I’d never crossed them, and I didn’t plan to start. Piper and I weren’t exactly besties, though. Never had been.
I may or may not have stolen his prom date on a dare, once upon a time.
At least I married her, so I was pretty sure he’d let that go long ago.
Piper Grayson would never be patching me into his band of blood brothers and I didn’t want him to, but we had a certain mutual respect. Ish.
With that gnarly instinct still prickling at the base of my skull, though, I called Maddox again while I was driving. Didn’t hurt to check in again.
He didn’t answer.
I couldn’t reach Summer either.
Brody had sent me a screenshot of her schedule for this week, and she didn’t have anything marked down for this morning. But she was probably just in her studio. Or listening to music in her music room. Or doing yoga.
That’s what I told myself, but I didn’t like it.
I stopped off at my apartment to store my gun and pack an overnight bag with some things. Then I packed up the saddlebag on my bike and pulled it out of the garage.
I called Maddox again. This time, I left him a voicemail. “Hey, asshole. Pick up your phone when I call you.”
Then I rolled out of the parking lot and burned it back to Summer’s house.
I didn’t like being out of contact.
I told myself not to worry. She was safe at home. But that prickling feeling was only growing worse.
And it didn’t matter who actually had eyes on her at any given moment; Summer was my client and my responsibility.
I felt that way about all my clients.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself as her pale-blue eyes flashed in my mind.
When I parked my bike alongside Maddox’s in her driveway and burst through the front door—the new lock was in, but it was unlocked—I found Maddox in the living room, power drill in hand.
“What happened? You didn’t answer your phone.”
“I was drilling. And putting out fires here. Didn’t know you called.”
“What fires?”
“Summer came down here crying—”
“What? Why didn’t you call me?”
His eyebrows went up. “I didn’t think it was an all-stations-alert situation. Nothing happened. She just yelled at me about some key—”
I was already heading for the hallway. “Where is she?”
“Upstairs,” he said, following me. “She’s fine.”
“Stay there,” I barked as I jogged up the hall. I took the stairs to her bedroom two-by-two, really hearing myself in my head.
What the fuck.
Since when was my client’s emotional management in my job description?
And yet I was mildly livid that Maddox didn’t call me because she was crying.
I knocked on her door. “Summer?”
She opened the door. She wasn’t crying, but she definitely had been. She was dressed now, makeup on, but her eyes looked pink and a little puffy. She looked fucking sad.
“Ronan,” she breathed.
The tension in my chest loosened at the relief in her voice and her eyes. If I had a heart, it probably would’ve skipped a beat. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She sighed. “I couldn’t find the house key, you know, the one from the coffee can? I got all freaked out thinking someone took it and… I kinda yelled at Maddox. Then I found it, in a dresser drawer. I forgot I put it in there. It was incredibly stupid. Does Maddox think I’m a diva now?”
“It’s alright,” I said.
And who the fuck cares what Maddox thinks.
“I actually forgot they’d just changed the locks. I totally panicked.” Her blue eyes gleamed with tears. “I think… this whole thing is getting to my head.”
“That’s totally natural,” I assured her.
It was. Unfortunately, I’d had other clients who’d been stalked. Threatened.
Attacked.
And I knew.
For weeks, months, even years, an event like this might play out in her head, working its way through her psyche, manifesting in any number of ways. Fear and anxiety and emotional meltdowns.
Strides forward
