Chapter Twenty Nine

R uger walked into the gym on Sixty-fourth Street. The woman at the counter smiled, leaning her crop-top-covered breasts on the surface. He headed straight to her, gazing behind her through the window to the weight room.

"Are you checking in?" asked the employee.

"I'm looking for Bishop. Is he around?" He walked to the end of the counter.

"You can't go in there." The woman jumped off her stool and rushed to the door, blocking him. "You have to be a member."

The hell he did. He lowered his voice. "You'll either move, or I'll move you."

"Please, don't hurt me." She shrunk in front of him.

"Is Bishop here or not?"

"There are cameras. He'll fire me."

That wasn't his problem. She understood the man she worked for was a fucking dealer. He hitched his chin. "Go take your break."

"But it's not time for—"

"Do it."

She scurried away without giving him another glance. He pushed through the door. From what he'd heard from Milo, the tattooist, Shady supplied Bishop steroids for him to hand out at the gym.

Looking around the room, he spotted the fucker bullshitting with one of his pumped-up 'roid buddies. Ruger walked over to the duo and pointed at Bishop, getting his attention. He stopped, crooking his finger for him to come.

Ruger was twice as big as Bishop. Even the jacked-up lifters were smaller than him.

"Tricia has membership forms at the front." Bishop swept his arm to the side. "I'll walk you out."

He never moved. "I'm not looking for a membership." He walked to the door and stopped where they could talk privately. "I'm looking for Shady. I was told you would know where to find him."

"Who?"

The asshole wanted to play dumb. He grabbed him by the neck and pushed him up against the door.

"You've got ten seconds before one of your boys comes and thinks he's going to save you, and I have to blow your fucking head off." He squeezed. "When's the last time you saw Shady?"

The words came out of Bishop's mouth garbled. Ruger let go.

Bishop coughed, waving off the others from coming any closer. Ruger pulled back his vest, showing him the pistol tucked under his belt. He wasn't playing around.

He was tired, cranky, and had better things to do.

After spending the last three days searching for Shady, Ruger wanted to go home and spend some time with his woman. He'd rather work in the parts shop than run around dealing with lowlifes.

"I haven't seen him since last Wednesday, man." Bishop rubbed his neck. "Whatever Shady's done has nothing to do with me."

"If you see him, tell him I'm looking for him."

"What's your name?"

"You don't need my name. Just describe me to him. He'll know." He exited the weight room, strolled through the empty lobby, and pushed out the door.

Today was Tuesday. It'd been almost a week since anyone had seen Rachel's brother. If he had to guess, Shady was hiding out because the cops were after him.

At his Harley, his phone vibrated. He straddled the seat and pulled the cell out of his vest pocket. It was Rachel.

He connected the call. "I'm here."

"Oh, good. I was afraid you'd be riding, and I wouldn't be able to get ahold of you."

"Everything okay?" he asked.

He'd left her home because Havlin members were using the clubhouse to divide the money Moroad Motorcycle Club sent over. On Friday, he'd go out on his last run. After that, he'd go back to working security for the club.

"Katrina called."

Ruger tensed. "Is she okay? The baby?"

"Yes, she's fine. Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you." Rachel paused. "She called and asked if I'd like to come with her and Cora to Daisy's house. Supposedly, they're all going over orders—I'm not sure what that involves. Katrina's picking up Cora and said she could swing by the cottage if I wanted to go, too."

He could tell by her voice she was excited. It would do her good to get out with the other girls. They were all around the same age. Rachel needed to learn what it meant to belong to a Havlin member.

The club was her family now, for as long as he claimed her or she decided that there was more in life than to be saddled with him.

He scanned the parking lot. While she was busy, he could continue looking for her brother.

"Do you want to go?" he asked.

"I think so." She blew out her breath. "I'm nervous."

"Don't be." He knew he had to let her go, but it hurt.

One day, she would recover from her past and start dreaming of better things for herself. He had to prepare himself. One day, she'd leave him.

"I'll see you tonight." He disconnected the call.

As long as she was with Katrina, she'd be fine.

He put his helmet on, started the Harley, and pulled away from the gym. Men like Shady, who were always scrambling for a way to make a quick buck, often hung around places that crossed the law.

He'd hit up the casino before heading home.