I dared not turn around.
A loud crash came from inside the clubhouse and when I heard Savage roar, I knew he was fighting with someone. The problem was, he wasn’t outside with me and I was sure whoever was walking over to me wasn’t here to help me.
“Jessica Banks?” a man said.
Turning slowly, I looked up at the impeccably dressed man in a three-piece suit as a black sedan slowly rolled to a stop next to him. The man looked out of place here in south Florida. Refined, elegant, definitely not a club member. He walked over to the car and opened the back door, “Please get in.”
“Did you kill him?” I barely said, my eyes returning to Helix.
“No ma’am.”
“Who are you?” I whispered, not moving. I wasn’t going anywhere with this man. Not after what just happened and add in the fact, I didn’t know him. I knew what getting in that car meant. I wasn’t stupid. I’d been around the club life long enough to know that this man was dangerous. I’d seen enough television shows to know that the second I got in the car I would never be seen again.
Reaper’s voice was still shouting through the phone, when the man bent over, picked it up and disconnected the call. Dropping the phone he motioned towards the car, “Ms. Banks.”
“Are you here to kill me?” I asked, taking a step backwards.
“Please Ms. Banks. My employer would like a word with you.”
Looking over my shoulder, I wished so much Savage would appear and save me from making a huge mistake. With no one to help me, I was out of options. I mean I could run but I didn’t think I’d get far. The man looked as if he could outrun me, easily. I could possibly take him but who was I kidding. With his muscles and stern look, he would wipe the floor with me. Nope, the sane logical thing to do was get in the vehicle and let this bastard drive me to my death.
What the hell was Savage doing in there?
Whatever he was doing inside the clubhouse, was occupying his time.
“Nothing will happen to him Ms. Banks. I give you my word,” the man said, capturing my attention. With no other choice, I got in the waiting sedan. The man slid in next to me, quickly making a call. “Package is secured.”
The second the vehicle started to move, I turned as several men in suits walked from the building as if they were leaving Sunday service with Savage and the other two Florida members in handcuffs, guns pointed at them.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked, turning to the man.
He said nothing.
The drive wasn’t far from the clubhouse. Maybe five minutes or more before the sedan pulled into a dark warehouse. When the car stopped, the man next to me got out and walked around the vehicle to open my door.
Getting out, I looked around the large building, when the man motioned for me to follow him. I prayed that whatever was going on was something I could fix. I wasn’t privy to club business and if it had to do with my father, I was screwed. I knew absolutely nothing about him. I was just a damn nurse. I helped people. That was it. If they were looking for information, they grabbed the wrong girl.
“Ms. Banks, I presume,” an older man said, stepping out of the shadows. Like the rest of the men standing around him, he was dressed in an expensive suit. His greying blonde hair was cut and styled to perfection. I could see the passage of time was not good to him. He looked tired. Yet when he walked over to me and took my hand in his, I knew his looks was just an illusion. The man before me was more than he looked. He still had a lot of life left in him.
“Please sit,” he said, motioning to a chair nearby.
“Who are you?” I asked, sitting.
“My name is Alexander Goldman but the club can call me Mirage. I understand that you are here to retrieve information my daughter may have left you. Is that correct?”
“Your daughter?”
“Katherine Keller.”
“Excuse me?” I whispered, as the realization of who this man really was started to sink in. He couldn’t be. He was dead. Kitty told me the story. Her biological father died the night she was born. Killed by members of the Golden Skulls. But the proof was staring right at me. The familiarity between Kitty, Solomon and this man. They all had the same eyes.
What the FUCK!
“Rest assured, Ms. Banks, I am who I say. My father was Xavier Goldman, the founder and creator of the Golden Skulls Motorcycle Club. I believe you and my daughter, Katherine, were good friends and you grew up with my son, Solomon.”
“Kitty’s dad died the night she was born. She told me so herself,” I whispered, shaking my head. This was too much. He was dead. I remembered Kitty telling me the story. It was a bloody fight between members of the club. Her father was caught in the middle. Club members wanted her dead, while others tried to protect her. Several brothers died that night.
“You are correct. I did die that night, several times but as you can see, I survived.”