Motorcycle clubs were nothing like I imagined. The camaraderie and love I felt between the members and their women wasn’t something you could manufacture. It was built from trust and enduring friendship.
“I have those custody papers all signed for you, Tawni. Don’t let me forget to hand them over once I’m done feeding Yeva.”
“Sure.”
My phone rang as I finished eating, and I excused myself to take the call.
“Hillary!” I exclaimed, swiping across to answer. “I’m so sorry I forgot to follow up with you.”
“Yeah, you better be,” she joked, but something sounded off.
“Hey, what’s the matter?”
“A shit ton, honey.”
Uh oh. “You in trouble?”
“Yeah, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Where are you? Do you need help? Money?”
“I don’t know,” she wailed, and I was freaked out.
Hillary never lost her shit like that.
“I’ll come to you,” I promised.
“No need. I looked up the address of the child you dropped off.”
“You’re here?” I asked incredulously.
Wow. That was a bit of a shock. Information like that was private. She could get in a lot of trouble if caught. Whatever was wrong must be serious.
“I’m coming outside.”
“Please,” she begged, “Forgive me for this.”
“Of course! We’ll figure this out, Hills.”
“Okay.” She hung up, and I ran outside, concerned for my friend. Her car pulled up to the gate as I approached, turning to the young guy watching the gate.
“It’s okay. She’s my friend Hillary.”
He nodded, letting me through as Hillary got out, and we hugged.
“I need you to come with me. Right now.”
What a strange request.
“But Zane—”
“There’s nothing to worry about. We’ve got to hurry!”
Trusting my friend, I climbed into her car and shut the door before she joined me and slammed her foot on the gas, speeding away from the Crossroads like the fires of hell were licking at the tires.