Biker Stepbrother - Part Two

Biker Stepbrother - Part Two by Rossi St. James Page B

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Authors: Rossi St. James
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toughened over the years and not just emotionally speaking. Big Nash had done a lot worse to me.
    “Fuck,” I yelled out, pretending it pained me worse than it did. I’d learned real quick in life that if you let people think they’ve got the power, you can swoop in and take it back when they least expect it.
    “You fuck her? Huh?” Holden asked, his face suddenly a couple inches from mine. I could taste his acidic breath, and it took every bone in my body not to spit in his direction.
     

TWO – EVERLY
     
    I flew down the hall from Gray’s vacant hotel room and rode the elevator to the main floor.
    Breathless and panting, I approached the clerk at the counter. “Did you happen to see a guy leave earlier? Big guy. Dark hair. Lots of tattoos…”
    The scrawny clerk who couldn’t have been much older than nineteen shook his head. “I just got here about twenty minutes ago. Hadn’t seen anyone come through here but you, ma’am.”
    “Fuck,” I said under my breath. I turned on my heel and headed outside for my car and drove straight to Chadwick Corporation to talk to Sterling’s head of security, Alfonso Dos Santos.
    ***
    I pounded on his office door, which was unusually closed, and prayed to God he was in there. It was maybe nine at night, but Alfonso preferred to work the overnight shift. He didn’t sleep well at night anyway, he’d always said.
    “Alfonso!” I yelled, pounding until the bottom of my fist was numb. Hot tears filled my eyes but I fought them off with every ounce of courage I had. Not knowing where Gray was or who took him caused knots in my stomach and sharp pain in the back of my throat where my words and feelings tended to get stuck.
    The door flew open a few seconds later, revealing Alfonso Dos Santos in the flesh, head of security at Chadwick and Sterling’s top guy. A retired Navy SEAL who rarely smiled and could bend a lead pipe with one hand, Alfonso was one of the toughest son of a bitches I knew.
    “Everly,” he said, holding his military posture straight as a damn statue. “What are you doing here?”
    I hadn’t seen him in a good year or two, since our last family vacation. We’d gone to Dubai and Sterling insisted on taking Alfonso. People knew him there and a powerful man like him hadn’t climbed the latter of success without making a few enemies, especially in the oil and finance industries.
    I brushed past him and shut his office door. “I need a favor.”
    “Anything,” Alfonso said. The man was loyal to Sterling to a fault and that fortunately trickled down to me as well.
    “Something has happened to someone I care about.” My voice trembled. Saying the words out loud made them much more real.
    Alfonso squinted his eyes in my direction, studying my face. “Holden?”
    “No,” I sighed. “God, no. I don’t care about him.”
    Alfonso’s eyebrows raised as if he were surprised to hear me say that, but he said nothing.
    “An old friend of mine recently came back into my life,” I said with a fond smile that left my face after only a moment. “We were going to leave town for a while. I went to his hotel room tonight and the door was open. All his stuff was there. His bike was in the parking lot. But he was gone.”
    His arms crossed his chest and he squared his hips. “Who’s this old friend?”
    I drew in a deep breath. “Remember when we were in Dubai a couple years ago, and we stayed up late talking that one night?”
    Three weeks in a foreign country with your parents and no one to talk to would leave a girl vulnerable and desperate for a meaningful conversation with anyone who would listen. Alfonso was a quiet man, but he was a good listener. That night I’d told him about my past. About Everly Conners. I swore him to secrecy and he promised he’d never tell a soul.
    Alfonso didn’t have the greatest childhood either. He grew up with a single mom in a dangerous neighborhood in Bronx, New York. He’d enlisted in the Navy the day he turned

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