“We need to talk.” He jerked his head to a booth near me.
“I don’t have shit to say—”
“You’re here lookin for Lucy, right?” he shot at me. I swept my eyes across the room, and didn’t see any other members. I nodded. “Well, she ran off.”
“What the fuck?” I slid into the booth. “What happened?”
“Here or down south?” he asked with a sly grin.
“Both.”
“Rumor has it you’re looking to exit the MC, is that right?” He drummed his fingertips on the table.
“Maybe.” Being non-committal, that was my theme.
“If you are, don’t worry about what happened down South. Just focus on finding Lucy
before Jayson does. He’s searching all over for her.”
“If I’m not?”
“If you're not, which I don’t think is the case, then get ready for a new ruler in town.” I wanted to smack his shit-eating grin off his face. If Lucy didn’t tell me how much he ran interference for her with Jayson, I might have done just that.
“Julio.” I nodded.
“For one,” he agreed.
“Lucy. Where is she?” I didn’t have time for Julio’s drama or Marcus’s fight. I needed to
find Lucy. If she ran away from Jayson, he wouldn’t give up until he found her. “What happened? Why’d she run?”
“Jayson woke up two days ago to an empty bed. She left him a note that she went out for breakfast, or coffee. When she didn’t show by the afternoon, and didn’t answer his calls, he got pissed. He’s been turning the whole town upside down.”
“Isn’t he preoccupied with the whole Julio-Bernardo mess?” I watched his old lady saunter our way.
“He’s is blissfully unaware of the Julio-Bernardo situation.” He grinned.
“Do you know where she went?”
“I do,” his woman answered as she approached the table. “But first you and I need to chat before I tell you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
LUCY
When I was a kid, I used to think about what the man I ended up with would be like. I imagined him with dark hair, neatly trimmed and styled. Wearing a suit and tie to work every day; of course he carried a briefcase. He wore glasses, because he was super smart and every ten-year-old knows that’s what glasses meant. Never, during all of this daydreaming, did I picture him with near shoulder length, sandy blond hair, covered in tattoos and riding a Harley.
No matter what I tried, I couldn’t shake Mason from my mind. I told myself over and over again that I wasn’t good for him, that he wasn’t good for me, but it didn’t work. The more excuses I came up with why my hiding from him made sense, the more my heart sank into my stomach with longing. I missed him. Not just the physical side of him, but every side. The protective way he’d throw his arm around my shoulders if we were just sitting and talking. I even missed his bossiness. Would I find those qualities attractive in someone else, or was it just because it was him that those things made me all weak in the knees—and wet in the panties?
I’d been hiding in the cabin for three days before I finally decided to turn on my phone again. When I did, I thought it would dance right off the table from all of the messages that flooded in. Most were from Jayson, more threats, a few promises to be lenient if I just came home. What did that mean, lenient? He’d only punch me half a dozen times instead of a full dozen?
The other messages were from Mason.
Where are you?!
You better not have done something stupid
You did, didn’t you?
Lucy, you’ve earned an asswhipping.
Why did men think threatening a girl would get her to come out of hiding? Obviously, staying put would keep me safe from Jayson’s crazy and Mason’s punishment.
Another text came through and I swiped the screen to read it.
Last chance to come clean.
My stomach flipped, and a tingle ran through my body. In the distance, I could hear a motor. I’d heard it most of the morning; Mr. Doyle was clearing out a spot for another cabin and had been cutting down trees. Reminding myself that Mason had no idea where I was, I sat back on the couch. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know.
The motor grew louder. Closer.
I jumped up from the couch and sprinted to the window, hiding behind the curtain. Just in case. A motorcycle rounded the curve and headed toward the cabin. The rider wore sunglasses, helmet, and long sleeves. Without seeing his face, I knew it was him. Mason had found me.
Not sure if the tingles in my stomach were good or bad, I stood frozen watching him from behind the curtain. He turned off the bike and unstrapped the helmet, letting his hair fall from its containment. Peeling his sunglasses from his eyes, he looked at the cabin. My heart stopped when our eyes connected. The deep creases around his mouth appeared as he grinned and shook his head. Leaving his helmet on the bike, he made his way to the front door of the cabin.