I grimaced. “Is there another one?”
“No, there is not,” he confirmed, leaning back in his seat. “And I ain’t a poacher.”
“And I’m not adeer,” I said, sternly.
“No offense meant, ma’am,” he said, kicking his southern drawl up a notch, tipping an imaginary cowboy hat to me. “Should your situation with yourHowler change, you let me know.”
“Okay, Tackle. I will,” I lied.
“Most importantly, thank you for finding Leighton.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk before standing. “I’ll find the proper way to thank you one day.”
“No problem.”
Then he was gone, and I dropped my head to the desk with a curse. Goddess on high, how the hell do I keep accumulating bikers?
Sierra
Six months ago…
My cell phonerang in the dead of night, and I almost ignored it, but it was Raquel’s ring, which meant it had to be an emergency. “What’s wrong?”
“You have to come home,” she rasped.
“Oh my god.” I sat up, throwing the covers off my legs. “Has something happened to Wrath?”
“No,” she sobbed. “Scrappy.”
“Oh, god.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “How bad?”
“Dead, honey. He’s dead,” she whispered. “Wrath needs you.” She sniffed. “Ineed you.”
Scrappy was Wrath’s closest friend. Closer than a brother, so I knew in my soul that Wrath would be spiraling right now.
Not to mention, Scooby. Oh my god, Scooby. He’d lost his brother.
“Okay,” I breathed out. “I’ll come as soon as I can.”
I hung up and glanced around my dorm room. I was on assignment with a special ops group in the FBI, which admittedly, had been over for ages, but I was avoiding going home. My boss, Taxi, had given me an open-ended return ticket, mostly because, with my hacking skills, they could use me at Quantico, but we both knew it wouldn’t last forever.
I dragged my hands down my face, then headed for the shower. It was only four a.m., so Taxi wouldn’t be up for another hour. There was no reason to wake him, in my opinion, so I took the time to center myself, then pack.
* * *
Walking into Taxi’s office at just after five, he raised his head and sighed. “Got the call ten minutes ago.”
“What call?”
“Sundance.” He leaned back in his chair. “You’re goin’ back.”
“Why would he call you?” I asked.
“Because, contrary to what you think, Jette, you still belong to the club, and Sundance wants you home.”
I rolled my eyes.
Taxi waved his hand. “Before you start in withsome anti-male chauvinist diatribe, you know that’s not what it’s about.”
I sighed, wrinkling my nose. He was right, but I still didn’t like that Sundance called him to demand I come home.