Page 32 of Her Dirty Biker
“They’re going to find me,” I say. “He’ll find me.”
Guardrail tilts his head. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”
I freeze. “What?”
“You’re bait.”
I want to scream, to lunge at him, to scratch his eyes out, but I’m zip-tied and helpless.
“You use me to lure him out,” I say slowly, “and you’re going to die.”
“You got a mouth on you for someone tied to a chair.”
“Untie me and find out how much mouth I’ve got.”
His eyes flare, briefly amused, but only briefly.
He stands. “Diesel made a mistake. He brought you into our world.”
“No,” I whisper. “You did.”
The door opens behind him and another man steps in. He’s the slick suit from the casino, the one I’d seen whispering with Guardrail.
“I told you not to bring the girl,” he says to Guardrail, annoyed.
“She’s leverage.”
Langford stares at me like I’m an insect. “If she causes problems, I’ll put a bullet between her eyes.”
He walks out.
I start shaking.
Guardrail grins. “Sleep tight, sweetheart.”
He slams the door shut behind him.
I close my eyes and silently repeat one name—Diesel.
Chapter thirteen
Diesel
Everything looks the same. The door is closed, and the Curtains drawn. The same goddamn quiet, but the stillness istoostill.
The second I open the door, my gut drops.
“Willow?” My voice echoes in the silence.
No response. I step inside, and the air hits me like a hammer. It’s cold. Stale. Off. Like whatever warmth existed here died hours ago.
“Willow!” I’m already moving through the living room, into the bedroom.
The sheets are rumpled. Her coffee cup still sits on the table. Her phone is on the counter. But she’s gone.
I walk through the house to the back door. It stands wide open. I see the busted lock and everything inside me goesred.
I yank out my phone and dial Rock.
