I got to know the other side of Sophia that she kept hidden, and I felt fucking weird about it. I knew I should wait until she offered up the information voluntarily, but shit. I’m a curious fucking guy, okay? I’m not perfect. I have my faults just like everyone else, and I needed to know if there was anything important about her that might cause problems for the club further on down the line. Some dark secret that might show up and bite us on the ass.
I found nothing, but during my momentary foray into P.I. work I did see many, many photographs of her father. That’s why I recognized him when Cade brought me observation shots of a dark-haired male in his late fifties being dragged up the porch stairs of the farmhouse Hector bought, hands zip tied behind his back, a rag stuffed into his mouth. I thought for a moment that maybe I was being paranoid, but no.
“Are you sure? Any chance he was lying?” I ask.
Cade fidgets in his seat. He hates this almost as much as I do. Over the past six months he’s grown close with Soph. He watches over her like a big brother, always keeping one eye on her whenever we’re here in the compound, and both eyes on her when we’re not. He nods, sighing. “No. No. He had no reason to. The guy spat out the name along with three of his teeth after I gave him a couple of right hooks. They definitely have Alan.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. You could say that.”
“Did Hector’s guy say what they’re planning on doing with him?”
Cade looks troubled. “After he spilled the name, he said Hector wants the girl. That he’s planning on offering her a trade, that she hands herself over to him in return for the old man’s freedom, otherwise he’s gonna dig him a shallow grave out in the desert and put a bullet in his head. Not before he’s cut off a few fingers and toes here and there, I’m guessing.”
“Right. So how do we get this guy outta there without Sophia finding out?”
Cade taps a finger on the blank screen of his cell phone, frowning. I’ve been through hell and back with this man. I’ve seen him wear this expression so many times before that it seems almost commonplace now. It shouldn’t have to be, though. He shouldn’t have to be this pissed off and stressed out ninety percent of the time. When we got out of the military, that should have been the end of this kind of worry for the both of us, but instead he lost his sister, was accosted by a mad woman in Columbia, got locked up in Chino for a spell, and now he’s dealing with this bullshit. There has to be an end at some point for the poor bastard.
“I don’t know yet,” he says. “But we’ll figure it out right. We always do.”
I grunt. “Yeah. Because if Hector Ramirez is known for anything, it’s making good on his threats. Alan Romera isn’t the kind of man who can withstand torture for very long, Cade. He isn’t that kind of man at all.”
The sound of something smashing over my shoulder had Cade and up on his feet in an instant. I twist around, my pulse slamming, my body ready to fight, and I see Sophia standing on the other side of the bar, her face white as a sheet. She looks like she’s about to burst into tears.
“She fucking heard us,” Cade says softly. “So much for keeping her out of this, man. Jesus Christ.” He leans back in his seat, groaning, but I can’t take my eyes off Sophia. She’s locked onto me, bottom lip trembling, accusation in her eyes, as though I’m the one who’s been keeping secrets from her this whole time. I mean, yes, I wasn’t going to tell her about this particular problem until we had a solution to it, but still. That’s excusable. That would have been for her own good.
“Rebel?” she whispers.
I can hear her perfectly, which makes it all the more reasonable that she could hear the lulled words I was sharing with Cade. Damn it. So fucking stupid. “Come on, Soph. Come sit down. We need to talk.”
She slowly shakes her head. “I don’t want to. I—I can’t.”
“You need to, sugar.”
Her head shaking grows more violent. “I need some fresh air.” She charges out of the clubhouse, palms crashing into the wood of the door, making a loud slapping noise as she bolts out into the blistering sunlight. I’m up and out of my seat before Cade can even suggest it; the very last thing Sophia needs right now is to freak the fuck out and go speeding off on her motorcycle, trying to find her father. This is exactly what I find her trying to do when I head outside into the courtyard. She’s throwing one leg over the seat of the slick Ducati I bought her with the Irish green gas tank, and her hand is in her pocket, presumably searching for her key.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I stand in front of her, placing one leg on either side of the front wheel, my hands on the handlebars of the Ducati. If she wants to go burning out of her, all hot under the collar, then she’s literally going to have to run me over, junk first. I’m hoping she likes my junk far too much to do that.