Page 23 of Emmy's Ride

“And what was I?” she threw back.

“You were everything.” The words were out before I could stop them.

Emmy froze. Her lips parted slightly, and I felt the air between us become charged.

Her breathing picked up, the rise and fall of her chest matching mine. Suddenly, we were too close. Or maybe not close enough.

I grabbed her face and crushed my mouth to hers.

The kiss was hard, deep, all-consuming. A claim. A demand. And Emmy didn’t just take it—she gave it right back.

She fisted my shirt, pulling me closer. She met my fire with her own, her lips moving against mine in a way that wrecked me.

It was heat. It was anger. It was years of pent-up, unspoken words.

Then, just as suddenly as she’d given in, she ripped herself away.

I barely caught my breath before she looked up at me, her eyes wide, shaken. Her fingers brushed over her lips, like she couldn’t believe what just happened.

In a voice barely above a whisper, she told me, “I can’t do this.”

My chest fucking ached at the pain on her face. But I didn’t stop her as she got up and walked away.

Again.

And I let her because I wanted the best for her, and the best wasn’t me or my life with the KOC.

Emmy

I sat cross-legged on Austin’s bed, my laptop balanced on my thighs as I scrolled through post after post, searching for any trace of Luke. A much better activity than dwelling on the kiss from a few days ago or the danger I’d been in at Rusty’s. I was still having nightmares about that.

That damn kiss. It had knocked the breath from my lungs, shattered every defense I’d spent years rebuilding. And worse? I’d kissed him back. Not just kissed him—melted for him, clung to him like I still belonged to him. Like I still wanted to belong to him. That realization had shaken me to my core because I didwant more. More than his lips, more than his touch. And that infuriated me.

I should hate him for what he did—for choosing the Kings over me, for breaking my heart. Instead, I found myself craving the heat of his body, the rough scrape of his hands.

No. I refused to be that girl again, the one who fell too easily, who let love blind her to the inevitable heartbreak. So I focused on the screen in front of me, let the cold glow of it ground me, reminding me why I was really here—finding Luke. Not falling for Austin all over again.

Even in Austin’s room with the door closed, the clubhouse was loud around me—men laughing, talking, bottles clinking, music playing over it all—but it faded to the background.

I didn’t belong here. Not in Austin’s bed. Not in his world.

But Luke did. And if there was even the smallest chance I could discover something—anything—to help me find him, I’d take it.

My fingers flew across the keyboard as I checked every possible angle. I started by combing all the social media accounts I had. Luke only had a Facebook page, and he didn’t update often. I went back through all the pictures and videos on his account, looking for clues. I made note of people in pictures that I didn’t know. I’d ask Austin later if he recognized them. That is, if Austin ever showed back up. I hadn’t seen him since the kiss.

Then I went back through my message threads with Luke, checking for something I’d missed. Sadly, I realized that I’d become a shitty sister judging by the spotty contact with my brother. The brother who practically gave up his life to raise me. He’d been little more than a kid himself when he’d taken on the responsibility of parenting a pre-teen.

I found nothing. I blew out a frustrated breath. It had been a long shot; I knew that. But what else could I do?

Just as I was about to close out of another dead-end lead, there was a knock at the door. I looked up as it opened, and a familiar voice had me grinning.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

I snapped my laptop closed and pushed up from the bed, my arms already open.

Candy.

The blonde waitress-turned-cook had been around for years, one of the few people in this place I’d actually liked back in the day. She hadn’t changed much—still rocking tight jeans, a crop top, and the same knowing smirk. I’d never ask her age, but she had to be in her forties yet still dressed like a rock star.

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