Page 77 of Spinner's Luck

“Found who?”

“The Dragon Fire,” I whispered. “They’re moving something in a few days.”

There was a pause, and then his voice turned serious. “Where are you?”

I gave him the address, my eyes flicking back to the garage. “Find out what you can about this warehouse,” I said, ending the call before he could ask questions.

As I tucked the phone back into my pocket, I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm.

The night wasn’t over, not until the men inside left. They could spill more information and I wanted to be around to hear it.

And if Fang was coming for me, he’d have to catch me first. And I prayed that would never happen with every breath inside me. I don’t think I could survive another round with him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

THE ROAR OFengines filled the lot as thelast of the guys rolled in from their patrols, the deep rumble vibrating through the ground, rattling in my bones. The sound vibrated off the clubhouse walls, but it barely registered past the mess in my head.

Devil leaned against the building, arms crossed, shadowed by the dim glow of the porch lamp. I knew that look—the kind that meant shit was about to go sideways.

I killed the engine and swung my leg off my bike, gravel crunching under my boots as I stalked toward him. “What’s up?” I asked, my tone coming out harder than I wanted considering who I was talking to.

Devil didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into his cut and pulled out a folded piece of paper, his movements slow, deliberate. He handed it over, and before I even opened it, I felt it, the weight of whatever was written on it was important.

I unfolded the note, my stomach twisting as I read the printed handwriting:

Shipment at the docks tonight. Lucy’s alone and in danger.

This wasn’t just some random tip-off, it was personal.

“Where’d this come from?” My voice was low, tight, barely controlled.

“Mailbox,” Devil said flatly. His gaze stayed locked on me, unmoving, like he was reading every flicker of reaction on my face.

I clenched my jaw, my fingers curling around the note, crumpling it slightly. “This about Dragon Fire?” I asked, even though I already fucking knew the answer.

“Who else would it be?” Devil’s expression hardening.

“Shipment of what?” I pressed, scanning the note again, as if the words might shift, offer me more than the bare-bones warning. “And how the hell do they know Lucy’s there?”

“Drugs, probably,” Bolt said as he walked up, his boots scuffing the gravel. “Maybe weapons. Either way, it smells like a setup.”

Chain stepped out of the shadows. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, his eyes going to the note.

Wordlessly, I handed him the note. His expression didn’t change as he scanned it, but the way he handed it back to Devil—calm, methodical, controlled—told me everything.

“Could be a trap,” Chain said.

“Damn right it’s a trap,” Bolt muttered, crossing his arms. “Who the hell leaves breadcrumbs unless they’re leadin’ you into a slaughter?”

“Or maybe it’s someone who actually gives a shit about Lucy,” I snapped, my voice cutting through the space between us. “She mentioned a friend—someone she trusted. What if they’re tryin’ to help?”

Devil studied me, his gaze steady, weighing, searching. Finally, he gave a short nod. “That’s why we go in smart. Spinner, Mystic, Bolt—you’re on recon. Chain, you lead the strike team if we decide to move.”

“What if things go south?” My pulse pounded, my grip on the note tightening.

“Then we adapt,” Devil said, his gaze unrelenting. “But no one engages until we know what we’re dealing with. Like Chain said, it’s likely a setup. Don’t give them what they’re looking for.”

I nodded, my mind already running through routes, setups, contingencies. But beneath the adrenaline, something gnawed at me—a pull in my chest that I couldn’t shake.

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