Page 106 of Spinner's Luck

Devil stood, his presence filling the space. “We’ll see if we can find her.”

I nodded, my resolve hardening. “She couldn’t have gotten far.”

“That woman is a headache,” Devil muttered. “And when we find her, you’d better make damn sure she doesn’t pull this shit again.”

I didn’t respond.

My thoughts were already racing.

Lucy was out there, alone.

And if they got their hands on her. Dammit Lucy, what the hell were you thinking?

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

THIS ROOM FELTlike a fucking tomb. A single bulbswung above the table, throwing jagged shadows across the concrete walls. It flickered, that weak-ass stutter, just enough to piss me off more than I already was.

My boots boomed as I paced, each step hitting the ground like a threat. My fists clenched, nails biting into my palms. The restless energy coiled inside me, waiting for a reason to explode.

I stopped dead. Turned toward Drago.

And slammed my fist against the table.

The cheap wood groaned, but it was Drago I wanted to hear snap. Instead, the bastard just sat there, unreadable—too damn calm for a man who usually ran hot. Too fucking calm.

“You’re tellin’ me she’s gone?” My voice came out raw, scraped with rage. “She’s not at the clubhouse anymore?”

Drago leaned back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. Too fucking in control. How the hell was he so calm whenZeynepwas still in their hands? This wasn’t like him.

That smug, blank mask of his just poured gasoline on the fire already raging in my chest.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he drawled, voice smooth and deliberate, every word calculated. “Our informant claims she slipped out, quiet as a ghost. No one caught a glimpse. Not the club. Not the prospects. Not even her loverSpinner.”

He let that name hang between us like a taunt.

Like he wanted me to snap.

And fuck if I wasn’t close.

My fists curled, rage coiling tighter in my gut. Zeynep was still locked up, and this bastard was acting like nothing was out of place. What the fuck was going on?

Like losing her didn’t mean shit.

“This wasn’t part of the plan, Drago,” I snarled at him. “She was supposed to be there. And those fuckers were supposed to turn her over.”

Drago spread his hands, ever the picture of patience, but it was bullshit. “And yet,” he said smoothly, “she’s not.”

My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. Heat clawed up my throat, burning, needing an outlet. I needed to hit something. Needed to break something.

Then it dawned on me what was happening here.

“You think she’s runnin’ with Zeynep?”

“That’s the word.” Drago tapped his fingers on the table, casual as shit. “The club’s been tight-lipped, but our little spy says Lucy took off alone. Another informant says Zeynep’s with her.”

A cruel laugh tore from my throat. No humor in it. Just raw, bitter frustration. “She’s leadin’ us on a goddamn chase.”

“Good.”

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