Page 63 of Spinner's Luck

“No,” he said evenly. “But you ain’t so sure either, are you?”

The words hit like a punch I didn’t see coming, knocking me back more than I cared to admit. I watched as Bolt walked away, his parting words hanging heavy in the air.

My gaze shifted across the room, landing on Lucy. She was talking to Fiona, laughing at something, her smile bright and carefree. It should’ve eased the knot in my chest, but instead, it only tightened.

I needed answers. Now.

Standing, I made my way across the room. “Lucy.”

She looked up at me, her smile softening when our eyes met. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Can we talk?” I nodded toward the door.

Fiona gave us a curious glance, but Lucy didn’t hesitate, standing and following me.

I didn’t stop until we were far enough away from the clubhouse noise, the tension between us thickening with every step. She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. “You okay? You seem… off.”

I hesitated, my words catching in my throat. “Do you trust me?”

Her brows furrowed, confusion flashing across her face. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?”

I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a sharp breath. “I need to know. Are you being completely honest with me?”

Her frown deepened, and she straightened. “Spinner, what’s going on?”

“It’s Fang,” I said, my voice tense. “He’s screwin’ with us, trying to turn us against each other.”

“And you think I’m part of that?” she asked, her voice quiet but laced with an edge.

“Lucy, I know you’re not tellin’ me everything,” I began, pulling the picture out of my pocket. “Someone left a jacket on Gearhead’s bike today. A property cut. It had your name on it—and a note claimin’ you’re Fang’s ol’ lady.”

Her eyes widened as I handed her the photograph, her fingers trembling as she took it. She stared at it for a long moment before looking back at me, hurt and anger swirling in her eyes. “You don’t believe it, do you? Tell me you don’t believe it.”

“I don’twantto,” I admitted, my voice raw. “But I can’t ignore what’s happenin’, Lucy. The jacket, the note, this picture—it’s too much.”

Her arms fell to her sides, the photo slipping from her fingers and drifting to the ground. “You believe I was fucking Fang?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I don’t know what to believe,” I said, my voice rising as frustration and doubt clawed at me. “Just tell me the damn truth, Lucy!”

She took a step back, her expression hardening. “Seems to me you’ve already made up your mind. You just want me to admit it.”

“Just tell me,” I pushed, my voice desperate now. “Stop hidin’ shit!”

Her laugh was cold and bitter. “Believe what you want,” she snapped, backing further away. “You’ve already decided, so my words mean nothing.”

“You don’t fuckin’ understand,” I said, my voice shaking as anger and helplessness warred inside me.

“No,” she interrupted, her tone icy. “I understand perfectly.”

“Why won’t you just be fuckin’ honest with me?” I shouted, the words tearing out of me. “I know you’re not tellin’ me everything!”

Her silence cut deeper than any argument could. Finally, she shook her head, her expression unreadable.

“And you’d believe me?” she asked, her voice like steel. “You’re already looking at me like I’m guilty. I thought you were different. I thought youtrustedme. I was wrong.”

She turned and walked away, her words hitting me harder than any beating ever could. I stood there, watching her go, the finality of it settling over me like a weight I couldn’t shake.

I wanted to go after her, to demand answers, but I knew she wouldn’t give them. Not now.

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