has been pressing us way too hard for way too long," the Iron Sons president continued. "If you can get Black's little girl back here unscathed, we can use her as leverage to get the Red Angels MC to back the fuck off."
"Sounds good," Lucas answered. "How am I supposed to find her?"
"I made some calls around the area; Marty said she checked into his motel an hour ago."
"I'll get right on it," Lucas said. He got down from his stool to leave.
"Take the club van," said the Iron Sons president as he tossed Lucas a set of keys. "You'll need the extra storage space."
"Sure."
"Hey, Lucas! One more thing." Lucas stopped to hear his boss's last instructions: "We need the girl brought back here unspoiled. So don't even think about tapping her."
"Understood."
***
Lila shut the door to her motel room, locked it, and bolted it before tossing the cash-filled satchel onto the bed. She went to the bathroom and emptied the contents of her shopping bag into the sink. Lila had used some of the cash she'd taken to buy a bunch of different hair dyes, some hair gel, and a pair of scissors—enough to disguise herself and get out of the state before her father's lackeys caught up to her. She'd already gotten rid of her own cell phone so he couldn't call her. If her plan worked, she'd never have to see or hear from him again.
What the fuck was her plan, anyway? After years of being a loyal member of the Red Angels, virtually chained under her father's shadow, she'd finally just run away. Her plan was to escape President Black and his goons in the Red Angels MC. Beyond that, she didn't really have any kind of plan.
Lila looked up at her reflection. Most girls joined a motorcycle club because it was the cool and rebellious thing to do, not to mention the chance to hook up with an outlaw, daredevil biker. Lila had joined the Red Angels MC because she'd been expected to join the family business. She'd even dyed her shoulder-length hair red years ago when she'd first started doing little errands for the club. Now it was just a sick joke and she'd become the "red angel" of the club who'd been daddy's loyal puppy since her early teens. So loyal she'd even modeled her appearance for the club. One more reason to change her hair color.
A knock at the door came just as she was reaching for one of the hair dyes. She ignored it. It was probably some drunk who had couldn't remember his room number.
Another knock came, louder and more insistent.
"Fuck off!" Lila called out indignantly as she read the instructions for the hair dye.
A third knock, this time more like a pounding. Lila cursed and dropped the dye bottle in the sink and stormed over to the door. In her irritation, she didn't think to take her gun with her. She unbolted the door and opened it.
As soon as Lila had opened the door a crack, the person on the other side kicked it all the way open. Lila fell backwards onto the floor as a biker entered the room, pointing a handgun straight at her head.
"Don't move or squeal," the biker said menacingly. He shut the door behind him and locked it, keeping the gun pointed squarely at Lila's head.
Lila's body was buzzing with adrenaline, and her instincts screamed for her to make a dash for her own gun. But if she did that, she knew she was as good as dead. Against the surging tide of panic and rage, she complied with the intruder.
The man who'd stormed into her motel room was powerfully built, with a moustache and goatee that made him look oddly refined and rugged at the same time. He certainly wasn't a Red Angel. She knew every member of her father's MC, as well as most of the club's outside contacts, and he wasn't any of them. Weirder still, there were no patches on his jacket to identify which club he belonged to. If he was some kind of bounty hunter sent by her father, it begged the question why he wouldn't send his own men after her.
"Roll onto your stomach,"
"Sounds good," Lucas answered. "How am I supposed to find her?"
"I made some calls around the area; Marty said she checked into his motel an hour ago."
"I'll get right on it," Lucas said. He got down from his stool to leave.
"Take the club van," said the Iron Sons president as he tossed Lucas a set of keys. "You'll need the extra storage space."
"Sure."
"Hey, Lucas! One more thing." Lucas stopped to hear his boss's last instructions: "We need the girl brought back here unspoiled. So don't even think about tapping her."
"Understood."
***
Lila shut the door to her motel room, locked it, and bolted it before tossing the cash-filled satchel onto the bed. She went to the bathroom and emptied the contents of her shopping bag into the sink. Lila had used some of the cash she'd taken to buy a bunch of different hair dyes, some hair gel, and a pair of scissors—enough to disguise herself and get out of the state before her father's lackeys caught up to her. She'd already gotten rid of her own cell phone so he couldn't call her. If her plan worked, she'd never have to see or hear from him again.
What the fuck was her plan, anyway? After years of being a loyal member of the Red Angels, virtually chained under her father's shadow, she'd finally just run away. Her plan was to escape President Black and his goons in the Red Angels MC. Beyond that, she didn't really have any kind of plan.
Lila looked up at her reflection. Most girls joined a motorcycle club because it was the cool and rebellious thing to do, not to mention the chance to hook up with an outlaw, daredevil biker. Lila had joined the Red Angels MC because she'd been expected to join the family business. She'd even dyed her shoulder-length hair red years ago when she'd first started doing little errands for the club. Now it was just a sick joke and she'd become the "red angel" of the club who'd been daddy's loyal puppy since her early teens. So loyal she'd even modeled her appearance for the club. One more reason to change her hair color.
A knock at the door came just as she was reaching for one of the hair dyes. She ignored it. It was probably some drunk who had couldn't remember his room number.
Another knock came, louder and more insistent.
"Fuck off!" Lila called out indignantly as she read the instructions for the hair dye.
A third knock, this time more like a pounding. Lila cursed and dropped the dye bottle in the sink and stormed over to the door. In her irritation, she didn't think to take her gun with her. She unbolted the door and opened it.
As soon as Lila had opened the door a crack, the person on the other side kicked it all the way open. Lila fell backwards onto the floor as a biker entered the room, pointing a handgun straight at her head.
"Don't move or squeal," the biker said menacingly. He shut the door behind him and locked it, keeping the gun pointed squarely at Lila's head.
Lila's body was buzzing with adrenaline, and her instincts screamed for her to make a dash for her own gun. But if she did that, she knew she was as good as dead. Against the surging tide of panic and rage, she complied with the intruder.
The man who'd stormed into her motel room was powerfully built, with a moustache and goatee that made him look oddly refined and rugged at the same time. He certainly wasn't a Red Angel. She knew every member of her father's MC, as well as most of the club's outside contacts, and he wasn't any of them. Weirder still, there were no patches on his jacket to identify which club he belonged to. If he was some kind of bounty hunter sent by her father, it begged the question why he wouldn't send his own men after her.
"Roll onto your stomach,"
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