When Carver asked him to take care of Pearl and the ladies, I knew right then how much their friendship meant because Pearl is Carver’s everything and trusting her life to Lucky shows exactly what Lucky and his friendship means to Carver. Not that I didn’t get that vibe when he asked me to take Lucky into the club, to patch him over.
That and the fact some of my most trusted men are protecting the Harlots while we ride keeps my nerves at bay. Mile after mile we ride, but an hour’s ride isn’t shit in the desert this vast.
I slow my ride, pulling my Glide to the edge of the road, raising my hand so every single one of the Royal Bastards know to slow their roll. They come in behind me, off the side of the road, onto the pathway of brown dirt packed by the desert sun.
Carver and I know the ropes and the area around where these bastards have burrowed in at and with the help of the intel we just recently received, we move forward, pushing our bikes manually until we’re a little bit closer and can hide them behind the orchard of Joshua trees and tumbleweeds.
My crew grabs our weapons, sawed-off shotguns, rifles and the like, while I holster my gun and grab my bat.
The little ranch-style house sitting out in the desert is supposed to be where the owners of the orange grove that covers acres live, but by the looks of the bikes parked near the porch, something sinister has happened to these folks and the Desert Riders have taken over the land.
We step around beer bottles, trash, and still smoldering ashes in a circle of rocks that tells me they were probably partying until late into the night or early morning.
Good for us.
We keep moving, closer and closer. I gesture a hand to part of my crew and then the other, sending them in different directions to surround the house as Carver blows in the door with a sawed off shotgun that I’m sure not one of those bastards saw coming.
29
ONYX
Iwake up and turn, intending to snuggle into Hawg but the space next to me is empty and cold. My eyes open, looking around, taking everything in the bedroom in.
My chest tightens with those same old feelings. Maybe everything he said to me was a lie. Just wanted to get into my pants. I inhale deeply and exhale, slowly pushing all of the noise away, but it takes effort after years of hearing it inside of my head and believing it was what all men do.
Hawg is different, not like those cheaters. He’s been hurt too and wouldn’t do it to me. I have to trust that, at least learn to trust that.
If he’s gone it’s for another reason.
I get up, dressed and ready, and head downstairs. No one but the Harlots are sitting at the bar. I avert my gaze with a grin, thanking heavens that Hawg had the good sense to wipe down the bar last night.
Skye’s making coffee and Shine’s flipping pancakes, but when Pearl comes down everyone turns to both of us. “Anyone see Carver?” she asks.
Everyone stays quiet for a while but Pearl’s glare and mine added to it makes the Harlots decide that maybe they should talk. “The guys headed out a while ago,” Skye says.
Pearl’s eyes narrow. “Where?”
Skye shakes her head. “I don’t know. I came down for an early cup of coffee and Carver and Hawg were heading out. I saw them out the kitchen window pushing their bikes. I got the impression that neither of them wanted any of us to know exactly where they were planning to go.”
My chest tightens with anxiety and looking at Pearl, she fucking feels the same. She starts barking orders to the ladies. Some to stay here and protect and some to ride. We stride out the door at the same time, donning our helmets and I pull my silver-handled Glock on Hawg’s sentry who doesn’t see it coming.
“Where the fuck did they go? Which way and talk fast. Every minute costs you another tire or light on that pretty fucking bike.”
His jaw tightens. “Fucking Tucson. You’ll see the Desert Riders’ symbol carved into a huge saguaro cactus on the right-hand side. Biggest fucking thing out there. Can’t miss it if you’re looking for it. The Riders are holed up about a mile down the dirt path from there.”
“Let’s go,” Pearl barks as two more of Hawg’s men come flying out the door.
I jump on my bike, and our engines roar.
The Royal Bastard guards try to stop us but if they’re going to do that, they’re going to have to follow us on the ride. It’s not like they’re going to fucking shoot us. I don’t expect them to leave the ladies in the club but instead they split up, some staying behind and some right on our fucking tail.
Pearl and I accelerate.
No one moves through this city and into the desert faster than us except for Carver. The desert dust kicks up out on the highway until we get to the turnoff, but the heat is not brutal yet. It won’t peak for another few hours and until then there’s no reason not to give this ride our all.
About an hour out Pearl raises her hand, coming to a sudden stop as we see a huge cactus looming with the Desert Riders’ symbol carved right into its arm. We pull off the main road and take the packed dirt trail in search of our men. “Here!”
30