Now that I had at least a time and direction, it was easier to follow her through the traffic cams. Eventually, she slowed down and turned into the lot of a busy twenty-four-hour diner that I was quite familiar with. My eyes narrowed as I followed her every movement, suspicion trickling into my mind. She didn’t.
She parked her car and hopped out with a small duffel bag that she slung over her shoulder. Then she looked around before walking toward the road. Holy fuck. She did.
Dom started laughing, and I realized he was looking at my screen over my shoulder. “No way.”
I would have glared at him, but I couldn't take my eyes off my girl as she crossed the street, coming closer and closer to the camera I was watching her through. The feed was less than four hours old, which just served to piss me off even more. All this time, she’d been right under my nose.
Dax and Nova joined in his laughter, and when Paisley disappeared into the lobby of our hotel, I tore my eyes away to scowl darkly at them.
“She’s been right here the whole time?” Dax asked as he laughed uproariously.
Right then, my phone rang. “What?” I snapped when I answered.
“Found some disturbing activity for John Clark.”
“Send me the details,” I demanded as I broke into the hotel’s registration records. I knew to look for a name that held some significance to her, so I spotted Polly Benson pretty quickly. I’d spent the past six months learning everything there was to know about my girl, including family history. Polly and Benson were her mother’s and father’s names.
I noted the room number, then shot to my feet and grabbed the cut I’d discarded on the bed a few hours before. After yanking it on, I grabbed my boots and sat on the bed to don those as well. “Benji is sending over some dirt on John Clark. Need you three to round him up and get your hands on the physical proof.” Once I was dressed, I grabbed my wallet and room key and stowed them in my jeans as I stalked to the door.
“What are you gonna do?” Nova asked.
Dom cuffed him on the back of the head and scoffed, “Go after his woman, jackass.”
Yeah, I was going after her. And I was going to kiss the fuck out of her. Then I’d spank her cute little ass until my handprint was practically tattooed there. It was time Paisley learned who she belonged to.
3
Paisley
The only thought on my mind when I left my house was to find somewhere safe to hole up until someone from the Silver Saints MC could get to me. I had planned to call Hack, my contact with them, as soon as I got into my hotel room, but I was a sobbing mess when the door shut behind me. I flopped face-down onto the mattress and cried my eyes out until I fell asleep. I must’ve exhausted myself because I didn’t wake up until almost four hours later.
“Holy crap,” I mumbled as I rolled off the bed and crossed the room to grab my purse off the floor where I’d dropped it near the door. I quickly found my cell phone and unlocked the screen. Scrolling down in my text messages, I found the one I received when Harlowe and Link had visited me before everything had gone down with David Clark. It felt weird calling a guy I’d never talked to before without giving him a heads-up, so I decided to send Hack a message first.
Me: Hey, this is Paisley. Can you talk? John Clark came to my house today.
Almost exactly when I hit the send button, there was a loud knock on the door. It scared the daylights out of me, and I jumped back about a foot. Nobody knew I was here, and I wasn’t expecting room service or housekeeping. I’d booked the room through an online travel service using a prepaid card. But John Clark was a cop. What if he had managed to find me by using traffic cams or something?
I thought about looking through the peephole to see if it was him, but I was afraid he’d be able to tell I was here if I did that. I backed up another step and glanced over my shoulder at the door leading into the bathroom. If I tiptoed in there and climbed into the tub, maybe he wouldn’t know I was here if he was able to get into the room. I only made it a few steps before the person outside the door pounded on it again, but this time they said something too. “Open up, Paisley.”
It definitely wasn’t John Clark. His voice did nothing for me, but this person’s deep tone sent goose bumps down my spine in a really good way. But I still didn’t know them, and opening the door to a stranger when I was trying to hide from a decorated cop who had it out for me would be foolish. I continued toward the bathroom and pressed the button on my phone’s screen to pull up the phone number on the text I just sent so I could call Hack from the safety of the tub. As I walked through the door, I hit the button. The call was picked up before the first ring was done, and my head whipped around when I realized I was hearing the greeting in stereo because it was coming through the front door too. “Open the door, baby. It’s me.”