Page 131 of Redemption

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Sitting in the motel conference room and staring at the same generic art pieces framed on the wall was almost more than Ryder could handle right now. But it was either that or stare at his phone, and Victoria hadn’t called him back. He’d expected the phone would ring after they had proof of a blast detonation, but no, nothing.

Now that Sugar had been sitting next to him for the last five minutes, her tension and worry bleeding into the air around her, Ryder was hanging on by an imaginary thread that had wrapped itself around his neck and was pulling tighter and tighter with every breath.

Sugar’s high heel tapped under the table on the carpeted floor. The beat began to line up with the questions in his mind.

Where was Victoria?

Why hadn’t she called?

Was she safe?

“I’m getting sick of this shit.” Ryder jumped out of his seat, surprising himself as the tension became too much to contain.

He rolled his shoulders back, pretending he’d planned to stretch when he’d surprised himself and made his way over to a pile of protein bars on a side table. He grabbed one, even though he had no intention of opening it.

Everyone’s stares dug into his back, but the only one he couldn’t feel was Seven. She was the person he needed to talk to the most. Making his way quickly across the conference room, Ryder shoved the protein bar in his pocket and asked, “Where is she?”

“You think I wouldn’t have mentioned that by now?” Seven’s chin pushed up defiantly.

“You know everything about Mayhem that the feds can’t tell us.”

“So?”

“You know what kind of cigarette butts are lying on the floor. Who’s sleeping with who. Think, Seven, where do they have her?”

Seven’s tongue stud pushed between her lips, running back and forth. “Still don’t know anything new.” But her gaze dropped to the side.

Seven did know something she hadn’t shared. What the hell? “Spit it out. She’s your best friend.”

“You think I don’t know that? I called you!”

“Why’re you holding back?” Ryder shook his head, frustrated more than he could explain. “But is there a single good reason to keep your mouth wrapped around that damn tongue stud instead of telling me why you keep staring at the floor?”

“I don’t—”

“Yes! You do!” he yelled.

“I only wanted to give you facts! It’s an urban legend. I’ve never seen it.” Her pierced brows arched. “I don’t know anybody who’s seen it, much less admitted to going there. Wherever there is. There is no there.”

Ryder threw his hands in the air. “Just tell us.”

“Tell you what? Mythical motorcycle drunken bullshit?” she yelled back.

“Yes! Anything and everything.”

Her lips pressed together, half-cocked. “If I told you everything and anything I’d ever heard about these guys, you would be sifting through so much crap you’d never find her. Give me a break. Okay?”

“No.”

“It’s an imaginary place that goes along with all the rather boisterous bullshit.”

He paced. “There’s a difference between guys telling tales about getting laid and talk of a location.”

That seemed to register.

“Where is it? What do you know?”

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