I wonder briefly what “question” means in this context, but I’m too exhausted to dwell on it. Dragon and Kit move toward the door. Gigi follows, pausing only to pat my shoulder as she passes, the gesture oddly comforting.
Roman touches my arm as I stand, his fingers warm against my skin. “Kayla,” he begins.
I shake my head, cutting him off. “I really can’t talk anymore tonight, Roman,” I say, fatigue making my voice rough. “I just can’t.”
He studies my face for a moment, then nods. “Get some rest,” he says. Before I can react, he leans in and places a gentle kiss on my forehead. “We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”
His lips linger longer than necessary, and a part of me wants to lean into the familiar comfort of him. But then he’s pulling away, following Dragon and Kit out the door, and I’m left standing there, my skin tingling where his lips touched.
“You must be Kayla.”
I turn to find the young woman with curly brown hair standing in the doorway. She offers a tentative smile.
“I’m Maddie,” she says. “I can show you where you can sleep.”
I nod gratefully and follow her down a hallway, away from the main areas of the clubhouse.
“I cook for the boys,” Maddie explains as we walk. “And just generally take care of things around here now that Gigi’s retired.” She glances at me. “She was the club mother for years before she decided she’d had enough.”
I try to muster the energy to respond appropriately, but exhaustion has stripped me of social niceties. Maddie seems to understand, not pressing for conversation as she leads me to a door at the end of another hallway.
“Here we are,” she says, pushing open the door to reveal a small but clean bedroom. “Bathroom’s through there.” She points to another door. “And I think we’re about the same size, so I left some pajamas on the bed for you to use if you’d like.”
“Thanks,” I manage, genuinely grateful for her thoughtfulness.
She smiles again. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Then she’s gone, and I’m alone in the quiet room. I strip off my clothes, too tired to care about the strange surroundings. After a moment’s hesitation, I pull on the pajamas Maddie left, soft flannel pants and a worn t-shirt that smells of fabric softener.
The bed is surprisingly comfortable as I sink into it, pulling the covers up to my chin. But despite my exhaustion, sleep refuses to come. Kit’s words echo in my mind, playing on repeat: My men weren’t the only ones looking for Kayla on the road that night. We just got there first.
Someone wanted me dead that night. Someone still wants me dead. Would I be dead now if Kit’s men hadn’t reached me first? The questions swirl in my head but no answers come. Eventually, exhaustion wins out, and I drift into an uneasy sleep, haunted by faceless figures hunting me in the dark.
28
Chapter 28
Roman
I collapse into the chair across from Dragon’s desk with a groan that comes from somewhere deep and primal. My body feels like it’s been dragged behind my bike for miles, every muscle screaming in protest, and my thoughts are too scattered to make sense of the pieces we’ve gathered. But the one thing that is clear is that someone wants Kayla dead, and I’ll be damned if I let that happen.
Dragon looks as wrecked as I feel, his usual composure fraying at the edges. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his long hair is down from its usual knot. Gray stands silently by the window, his face giving nothing away, though the tension in his shoulders betrays his exhaustion. Gunner is slumped against the wall, occasionally rubbing his bloodied knuckles. And then there’s Demon, lounging in a chair like this is all some amusingdiversion, though even his smirk looks strained around the edges.
“Eight fucking hours,” I mutter, downing the rest of my coffee and wishing it was whiskey. “Eight hours and what do we have? A hired thug who doesn’t know shit.”
Dragon sighs, tapping a folder on his desk. “He knew enough. Five grand to kill Kayla and make it look like a burglary gone wrong. No questions asked.”
“He didn’t see who hired him,” Gray adds, his voice flat. “Just a man in a parking lot. Cash in an envelope. No names exchanged.”
I snort. “Real professional operation.”
“You’d be surprised how often it works,” Demon drawls, examining his nails like we’re discussing the weather rather than a hit on my ex-wife. “Most people who are murdered are murdered by amateurs.”
I glare at him, not in the mood for his commentary. “Did Hack find anything useful at all?”
Dragon opens the folder, spreading out several pages. His name is Caden Meyers. Has a record that goes back to his teens, mostly petty crime but escalating. Just finished serving a four month sentence earlier this year. Hack couldn’t find any affiliation with any organized group. Just a low-level criminal for hire.”
“I think we all know who hired him,” I say, leaning forward, my eyes finding Demon’s. “Naomi. The only question is, why?”