Page 7 of Wild Ride

Ivy’s brows lift. He doesn’t clarify anything, probably because he doesn’t know. Instead, he starts to talk again, and each word he says pisses me off more and more.

“She’s supposed to be coming to the office in the morning and have a meeting with my partner John Gentry to discuss the assets and shit.”

“What time?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you that kind of shit,” Ivy says. “But if you want to come over around nine tomorrow morning, maybe grab some breakfast, I’ll have some free time.”

My lips twitch into a smirk at his words. “Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ be there,” I grunt.

He lifts his arms, slapping his hands on his knees before he stands to his feet. “Whelp,” he calls out. “I got some booze to drink and Lolita’s pussy to fuck. I’ll see you at the bar.”

I watch as he turns toward the door and walks out of the office, leaving me alone. I’m still standing, my palms flat on the desk and in complete fucking shock. I can’t wait until tomorrow to find out anything else. Instead, I reach for my cell phone and call the one person who I know, without a goddamn doubt, will have something for me.

“Prez,” he grunts.

I don’t say anything immediately, mainly because I’m still not used to being called that and really don’t even think anyone is talking to me when they use the title.

“You in the clubhouse?” I ask, unsure if he’s here or working tonight.

I should really have his fucking schedule on hand, so I know what the fuck is going on. I’m sure that Shade had it somewhere, but I haven’t found anything. I also haven’t been able to bring myself to snoop around his space, either. And I am, without a doubt, still feeling like this is very much his space and not mine.

“Just got off. I was going to go home and change before I made my way down there. Last night of my shift, and I’m exhausted. Need some beer and a blow job.”

“Come by the office first. Need to ask you a few questions.”

“Be there in an hour,” he grunts before he ends the call.

Tipping my chin, I stare down at my desk and wonder what the actual fuck I’m going to do about this situation. I also want to know who this bitch is. She thinks she’s going to come in here and just take everything that Shade worked his whole life for because some, no doubt whore shot her out of her cunt.

I think fucking not.

Shade may have put her ass on the documents, but she doesn’t deserve the legacy he worked his whole life for. His blood, sweat, and tears are here in this club. In his home on six acres. In his bike and in our store.

There is no way in fuck I’m going to let her swoop in here, cash checks, and then swoop out never to be seen again. She’s not getting a goddamn dime of Shade’s money. She’s also not taking a single fucking thing from his house.

Not even the welcome mat, which I know reads:Come Back with a Warrant.

No. This girl, whoever the fuck she thinks she is, she’s not leaving Thunder Rock with a single fucking thing. Not a fuckingpenny, and sure as fuck not any of Shade’s shit. And I’ll be good and goddamned if she touches his bike. If she leaves so much as a fingerprint on it.

CHAPTER THREE

DAKOTA

I’mgrateful when I see the Thunder Rock city limit sign because while the drive here was uneventful, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t a ball of nervous energy the entire time. I feel like I’m going to need at least a month’s worth of sleep just to get all the anxiety to dissipate from my system.

I pull into the first motel parking lot that I can find, which I fear is likely the only motel in the whole town, considering this is not a big place. It’s actually a small town, especially if the city limit population sign is correct—Pop. 6,275.

Unplugging my phone from the charger, I send Briana a text to let her know I’m here in Thunder Rock safe and sound, although I’m sure she already knows through that Life360 app. I still want to tell her, though. It seems like the right thing to do.

She sends me a short but sweet response, telling me to be careful and get some rest, and she also reminds me to check in before I go to bed. I almost roll my eyes but decide against it because I’ve never had anyone care about me as much as Briana does.

Opening my car door, I shove my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, hitch my purse over my shoulder, and make my way toward the front desk. I’ve become a pro of sorts at getting motel rooms since starting on my journey across the country.

When I slip into the office, a woman lifts her head, her eyes meet mine, and she narrows them. Turning my head, I look over my shoulder to see if someone is perhaps behind me, but there isn’t anyone, so she’s annoyed with me… I’m not sure what I’ve done, considering I haven’t even spoken yet.

“I was wondering if you had a room for a week’s stay?” I ask, my voice coming out far more timid sounding than I imagined.

She rolls her eyes to the ceiling, then lets out an exhale, clearly still very annoyed by my existence. She reaches for something beneath the counter, then produces a large, thick book and flings it open, the sound of it thudding as it hits the countertop.

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