“Zane.”
“There’s no deceit in her. You’re not gonna love her all your days only to have her betray you, rip out your heart, and stomp it on the fucking ground. She’s not gonna tell you she loves you and that she’s gonna wait for you forever, and then the minute you’re gone, she’s fucking anything that—”
Jagger cut him off mid rant. “What’s riding your ass?”
Zane took a long swig of his beer. “Nothin’.”
He almost pushed. Zane had never shared this much about what happened in the years they’d been apart. He’d always suspected Zane had been burned by a woman, but now he wondered if the answer lay closer to home.
“She’s not at Sparky’s,” he said, not wanting to risk Zane shutting him out. “She texted this afternoon and asked if she could go shoot stick with her friend Dawn. Since we had Axle and she belongs to us now, I let her go, but I sent Wheels and T-Rex with them.”
“You shoulda sent Cade,” Zane grinned, his momentary lapse seemingly forgotten. “He’s been panting after her friend since they met at Banks Bar. He took her to his place for a drink, and they wound up in bed together, but she left in the middle of the night. Drove him crazy. He’s never had a woman walk out on him.” He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. “I’m gonna tell him where she’s at, just for kicks. What’s the address?”
“Pool hall at Forty-seventh and Main. I think it’s called Sticky’s.”
“Forty-seventh and Main?” Zane tilted his head to the side and the skin on the back of Jagger’s neck prickled.
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t that Bunny’s new place?”
Blood pounded in Jagger’s throat. A notorious underworld kingpin player, Bunny had connections that made him untouchable even to the Sinners and the Jacks. You wanted something—anything—Bunny could provide, but the price was high and always involved laying down a mark that meant he owned a piece of your soul. Bunny also had a habit of taking things without asking. Pretty things. Things other people wanted.
“Bunny’s working out of a pool hall now?” Heart thumping, he threw a wad of cash on the table and pushed his chair away.
“Feds broke up his last human trafficking ring, so he had to move house. Last I heard he’d bought that pool hall and was back in business: drugs, arms, human trafficking … the works.”
“Fuck.” Jagger stalked through the bar, shoving tables and chairs aside in his haste to get out. “Of all the pool halls in Conundrum, why the hell did she pick that one?”
*
Sticky’s was heaving for a Thursday night. The smoky pool hall in the basement of an ancient brick building at the edge of Conundrum was known for its watered-down beer, old-fashioned jukeboxes, sticky floors, and pristine pool tables.
“You boys want a drink?” Arianne gestured to a table and T-Rex and Wheels took their seats, clearly uncertain about the protocol involved in babysitting the president’s blood price.
Wheels looked over at T-Rex and shrugged. T-Rex made a show of checking out the pool hall and then nodded. “Sure. Beer’s good. You want us to get the drinks?”
“We’ll get them.” Dawn grabbed Arianne’s hand and tugged her away from the table. “After all, you deserve a reward after keeping up with Arianne’s bike on the way over here.”
Biting back a laugh, Arianne followed Dawn through the bar at the end of a low row of pool tables, wrinkling her nose at the acrid scent of smoke mixed with stale beer. Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird” played in the background, and the clack of billiard balls filled the air.
“We’ve got a few minutes to ourselves.” Arianne checked over her shoulder at the prospects, now busy talking to each other. “I’ll ask the bartender to send a chatty waitress over to keep them distracted. Hopefully we can be in and out of Bunny’s office before they realize we’re gone.”
Dawn laughed. “If there is one thing I miss about my biker days, it’s abusing the prospects.”
They skirted around the edge of the hall and made their way to the bar in the far corner. “Thanks for coming with me,” Arianne said. “Bunny didn’t sound like the kind of man I would want to meet alone.”
Dawn looked back over her shoulder. “You know you can always count on me. But seriously, usually when you ask your bestie to be your wingman for the night, it’s usually because you’re planning to hook up with some hot guy in a bar, not shake down a dangerous underworld kingpin at the back of a pool hall.”
“I’m not shaking him down. I’m asking him if he’s got weapons for sale. And with you there, it should be a civilized conversation. From what Jeff said, Bunny doesn’t like to get involved with civilians or draw the attention of the police.”