Shay gives him a quick nod and then she silently leaves the clubhouse, leaving a handful of bemused Widow Makers behind her. Ever since Hector Ramirez showed up in Freemantle and decided to terrorize the Widow Makers any way they could, it’s been necessary to have someone armed and ready to respond at the club’s tattoo shop. I’d kind of thought Ramirez might have grown bored and left New Mexico by now, gone back home to his cartel in Mexico to oversee his drug operations, but it seems as though he has far more patience than anyone gave him credit for.
He was furious after his right hand man, Raphael Dela Vega, went missing. He vowed not to leave until Raphael was found, and so I guess that means he’ll never leave because Raphael is gone for good. I should know—I killed him and buried him out in the desert. Rebel shoots me a brief smile as he sits down with Cade. I try not to listen to their conversation as I clean up after breakfast, but it’s hard not to. I’ve felt an uneasiness in the compound over the last few days. An uneasiness I can’t put my finger on, but that I know is there all the same.
I hear two words that send shivers all over my body: Los Oscuros. And then I hear another two words that cause a bolt of panic to rise up my throat and relay around the inside of my head, so powerful and strong that I can feel my pulse beating in every part of my body.
Alan Romera.
That name should never be slipping out of Rebel’s mouth. It should never be a name spoken inside the walls of the Widow Makers’ clubhouse. It shouldn’t be uttered in any motorcycle clubhouse period. When I was initially captured by Raphael, he found my fake ID in my purse and assumed that Sophia Letitia Marne was my real name. I wasn’t exactly in a rush to correct him, given that he kept on threatening to rape and murder my family as soon as he could find them. I’m not sure why I haven’t told Rebel the truth, that Sophia isn’t my true identity, but… I suppose it felt safer. Better if I kept my family and my old life as far away from this new one as humanly possible.
So now that Rebel is whispering that name, the name of my father, out loud, it feels as though my lies are catching up with me.
He says the name again as he talks in low, hushed tones with his second in command. Suddenly I don’t feel all that well. My stomach is churning and my head feels light, like there’s nothing inside it. My hands are prickly, numb, rubbery all at once.
I look down at the wet, soapy plate I’m holding slips from my hands, and I watch as it seems to fall to the floor in slow motion. I know it will smash. I know it will explode into thousands of pieces when it hits the floor, and I can do nothing but observe as it does exactly that. The clubhouse falls silent. Eight people all turn and look at me, frowning, surprised, irritated. My eyes lock with Rebels and an entire conversation takes place in the brief heartbeats that follow. He knows. He knows exactly who I am.
And something is very, very wrong.
CHAPTER FOUR
REBEL
I didn’t push. I never did. It seemed like a bad idea back when Soph first came to the compound. She was livid, seven which ways from crazy, and calling her out on her secret seemed like the dumbest fucking move I could make. I always knew though, knew who she really was. I’ve been waiting for the past six months to see if she would ever come clean, to trust me, but the day never arrived, and now it seems as though I don’t have the luxury of giving her space anymore. I don’t have the luxury of giving her time. We’ve run out of both, because something terrible has happened, and I have no idea how we’re going to find our way out of this one. I’ve held my tongue and waited the past three days, hoping that I’m wrong, hoping the information Cade dug up is wrong, but it appears all the hoping was for nothing. Hector Ramirez, the motherfucker that had my uncle murdered in cold blood, has kidnapped Sophia’s father and brought him here to New Mexico.
It makes no sense. When we were back in Ebony Briar for my father’s charity ball, I heard Soph’s father say his own name when he answered her phone call. She hadn’t said a word, had hung up almost immediately, but I’d heard him say his name. I never told anyone else. When we got back to the compound, my curiosity was undeniable; I wanted to know everything there was to know about this strange, fiery woman I’d fallen in love with, so I did my due diligence. I did my digging. I looked up Alan, and then I moved on to his wife and his two daughters, Sloane and Alexis. I found pictures online. I read Alexis’s school reports. I looked up her Facebook profile and then wanted to kill some fucking moronic guy called Matt that kept posting on her wall, calling her every name under the sun because she’d left him and wouldn’t respond to his texts.