“Yeah, that’s weird. So how long you been with the club?”
“Only a couple weeks,” he admitted. “They’re looking for new members, though, and it’s always sounded kind of fun. I’m saving up for my bike right now.”
It took a minute for his words to sink in.
“You don’t have a bike?”
“Well, I’ve got a dirt bike, but nothing street legal. Marsh said it was okay, so long as I get one in the next month.”
I had literally no place in my head to put this information. Fucking hell, the club wasn’t just dysfunctional . . . it wasn’t even a real club. No wonder Pipes had issues. He must be losing his mind, hearing about shit like this, powerless to do a damned thing to stop it. We passed through town and turned down a gravel road off the highway, stopping after half a mile at an isolated trailer. I bit back a pleased smile—couldn’t have asked for a better setup. I’d head out here later tonight and take care of this fucker, easy.
Almost too easy. Was it some kind of trap?
“Here we go,” Cody said. “Hands, you got a key?”
“S’unlocked,” the man in the backseat managed to say. “No worries.”
Cody gave me a concerned look.
“You think he’s gonna die here, we leave him?” he asked. I shrugged.
“You got an order to take him home,” I said. “That means we bring him home. He’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
“Okay.”
Ten minutes later we had Hands laid out across his couch, and I’d even covered him in an old afghan I’d found tossed across the back of a chair. I’m thoughtful like that.
“Back to the party now?” Cody asked. I nodded.
“Yeah, gotta figure out how to get my date home. She’s kind of fucked up.”
“Who’re you with?” he asked, eyes lighting up. I could’ve laughed, the poor kid looked so desperate.
“Sadie,” I said shortly.
“Sadie the Sprayer?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. Fuck, not even the prospects wanted her.
“Yeah. Sadie the Sprayer,” I admitted.
“Hope you like barf,” the kid said, snorting. “She’s hot, but watch out—that chick is disgusting.”
Christ. No wonder she needed Talia to find her dates.
? ? ?
I wasn’t able to shake Sadie until nearly three in the morning. The good news was I managed to get the Princess of Puke home without her falling along the way. She’d even sobered up a bit, probably because none of the booze managed to stay in her for long.
Fucking hell, but the club owed me for this one in a big way.
I got back to the hotel first, so I settled in to watch some TV and wait for Gage. He showed up around four a.m., looking rough.
“Have fun with Talia?” I taunted softly, sitting up to grab my boots. Still a lot of work ahead of us for the night—Hands was waiting.
“Fuck off.”
“Did you know they call Sadie ‘the Sprayer’?”
Gage shook his head, and he had the grace to look sheepish. “Only met her once before, and she wasn’t that drunk. Sorry about that—I had no idea what you were in for.”
I nodded, accepting his apology.
“What’s the story with Hands?” he asked.
“Took him home with the prospect, so we know where he lives now. We can go over there and talk to him, then bag him up for Rance. Nice to have a witness that I left him safe and sound hours ago. Nothing to connect me when he disappears. You ready to go?”
Gage sighed, reaching for the mini-fridge. He pulled out a Red Bull, offering it to me silently. I shook my head, knowing the adrenaline would wake me up once we got to work on our victim. Hopefully he’d be alert enough to talk. Gage popped the can open and chugged it.
“Talia tire you out, old man?”
He flipped me off, then grabbed a backpack and pulled out a snub-nosed pistol.
“Let’s go.”