Page 8 of Eros
“Don’t touch her,” he said to the young man while never taking his eyes off me. “Bathroom trips only. If she gives you any problems, tie her ass back up.”
He gave me a pointed look, then walked out. There was no way I was going to sit here and let these people hold me captive untilthey killed me. My eyes slid back to the young guy. He flopped down into one of the old metal chairs, looking like he wished he was anywhere but here. If I was going to get out of here, it definitely needed to be before the other guy came back.
It’s now or never.
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
Chapter Four
Eros
AssoonasIarrived at the clubhouse, I released a long breath. I was caught up in a fucking mess and didn’t know how to get out of it. Killing her was the very last resort, but first I needed to find out who the hell she was before making that decision. Her death could cause more problems than I needed.
Made of rough, red brick and poured concrete, the clubhouse was built in the seventies and showed signs of age. But the plan had been to renovate and expand it once we got revenue streaming in from our legitimate businesses.
Crash had grandiose plans for the place, but something simple would be better than something that drew too much attention to the club. I had argued with him about it over and over again. It was one of the reasons I knew he didn’t need to be prez anymore. Everything became a show and not improving the club or the brothers.
A massive garage-style door dominated the front of the building. It stayed open most of the time, revealing glimpsesof motorcycles parked inside to anyone who walked or passed by. Painted on the outside of the building in large black, bold letters was the club’s logo but not for long. Once again, it was something that brought unnecessary attention to the club that I planned to change.
Outside, the sidewalk was always lined with bikes, their chrome catching the sun’s light as members came and went. The scent of motor oil and leather, mingled with the city’s ever-present breeze always saturated the air. And on nights we had parties, or just hung out, the outside buzzed with music and laughter. Riders just shooting the shit, motorcycle engines revving, and everyone enjoying each other’s company.
That was brotherhood.
The main gathering space of the clubhouse was filled with wooden tables and chairs arranged for the guys to hang out with the club women and each other. In the bar area, members swapped stories over drinks or just talked shit. A stripper pole wasn’t too far away from the bar where some of the girls danced. There were also a couple of pool tables, and a ninety-inch smart TV so we could watch the games. There was something for everybody, and it was home for most of us.
I’d been here for about thirty minutes and eager to get back to the warehouse. I trusted the prospect to keep an eye on her, but not for too long. I wasn’t under any illusions. She would try to escape. Even if she got away, I’d find her. But it was very important that I found out who she was before I decided on what to do with her. It was also a way to see if this prospect was up to being a part of the Order. How he responded to this test would decide if he became a member.
“Got her!”
I leaned over Knox’s shoulder. He was the IT expert of the club. His background was military intelligence, so I knew if anyone could find out anything about her, Knox could. He ranthe plates on her car, and they came back to some security company, so that had been a dead end. Just that little bit of information raised both our hackles.
Who would have a car that was registered under a security company?
She could be a celebrity. There were quite a few who lived in the area, but most had bodyguards, and she didn’t so if she wasn’t a celebrity who was she?
Knox had been working to identify her from the picture I took of her at the warehouse since she wouldn’t give me her name.
We were in his bedroom slash office. The dimly lit room was bathed in the soft glow of multiple computer screens. The hum of the computers’ fans echoed throughout the room along with Knox’s fingers clicking across the keyboard.
A sprawling desk took up one wall along with computer monitors and keyboards. Tangled cables lay everywhere across the hardwood floor. Knox sat in front of the desk, in a leather chair worn from the long hours he spent in front of the computer monitors. Bright colored Post-it notes with shit scribbled on them were stuck everywhere from the computer desk to the edges of the computer screens.
“Fuck, yes,” I said, blowing out a breath of relief. “Who is she?”
“Oh fuck,” Knox mumbled as he continued to scroll through photos on the screen.
On his computer screen, the picture I’d sent him sat beside a headshot of the woman. She was absolutely stunning. Wild, large curly hair surrounded her angelic face like a halo. Her smooth dark skin was blemish free. And her bright gray eyes that twinkled when she smiled were mesmerizing.
While I already noticed how beautiful she was, seeing her smiling and full of life transformed her entire face. As Knox scrolled, more pictures flashed on the screen. Many of them,with a couple who looked very familiar, but I couldn’t place them.
“What is it?”
“She’s the daughter of the Lt. Governor, Roger Thorne. He and his late wife adopted her at two years old.”
Her words that her mother was dead replayed back in my mind.
“Goddamn it. That was why they looked so fucking familiar.”
Fuck, this isn’t good.
