Page 37 of Wild Night

“We’re tapped out of manpower, brother, but we got a nomad we can possibly send there to get her.”

I’m sensing a but, so I don’t respond to him immediately. Instead, I wait, wondering what the fuck he’s going to say to me. There is a reason he’s not going to be able to send a nomad to her, and I’m bracing myself for some bad shit.

“But,” he begins, “we have an alliance with that group. We cannot send someone in there guns blazing.”

I run my fingers through my hair, tugging on the ends in frustration. “You know that the guy who married her is undercover, yeah?”

My contact chuckles before he speaks. “Not surprising. The Feds have been trying to get that group for years. They’ve had more men attempt to infiltrate them than I can count. If they got this guy in there, odds are what they have on him would make him incredibly unreliable. It would also mean that he would be killed in jail before he even testified. There is zero witness protection for him.”

“So what do I do?” I ask.

“She your old lady?”

“No.”

That response is met with silence, at least for a moment. Then he clears his throat and speaks. “I’m not sure what you’re calling me for, Ivy. She’s not an old lady, and that group is not one to fuck with.”

“What about the douche?”

“They will deal with him,” he states.

This is infuriating. Beyond fucking infuriating. “Can you extract her?”

“Possibly.”

I’m about to fly to California, not only to get my woman back but to also slap the shit out of this fucker. I might actually do it when this is done because this shit is goddamn exhausting.

“Just tell me what the fuck can be done. I don’t know who this Lucian guy is or what he wants with her. But they aren’t really married, and she thinks they are. She doesn’t know who he is, and I doubt she knows what her bosses are up to.”

“I’m not really sure what you want from me. She’s not your old lady, and Bullet isn’t around to ask any favors. As far as we know, she’s not hurt in any way. She’s a thirty-something-year-old woman. She can do whatever the fuck she wants.”

The way I wish I could reach through this phone and choke this motherfucker. But at the same time, I know we would all say the same thing. The only reason we sent a nomad to protect Ralph’s sister was because we weren’t sure if we could use her for anything.

“Give me what you can. Any information. And if you have a nomad anywhere near for hire, let me know.”

“Will do,” he quips, which means he won’t be responding to me at all.

I’ll be lucky to get any information on the syndicate, let alone anything else. I end the call and shove my phone in my pocket, trying to keep my anger at bay. It’s not in the slightest as I walk toward my car, sink into the driver’s seat, and start the engine.

While I race toward the clubhouse, anger climbs up my throat, threatening to spill out. I need to get this frustration out. I’m not sure how I’m going to do that, but as I pull into the clubhouse parking lot, I park beside that fucking red Mercedes.

Goddammit.

Fucking hell.

My anger slides away immediately, and I’m filled with frustration and worry. Straight fucking worry.

What is happening with Posey?

Is she safe?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

IVY

“You needto calm your fucking shit down,” a voice growls from a distance.

With my hands on my hips, I spit on the ground before I flick my attention up to meet the man who spoke.

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