“Haven't seen her.” I don’t bother looking at the phone screen.
His eyes drift past me to where Aria's backpack rests, half-hidden behind the counter.
Fuck.It’s just a backpack, I tell myself.Could belong to anyone.
But Russo’s expression changes subtly—like a predator catching a scent. He takes a step forward, but I shift to block his path.
“Unless you came with a warrant, I think it’s time you leave."
Russo's eyes meet mine, cold and calculating. "You know, Reynolds, I've always thought you Shadow Reapers were nothing but trouble. Dangerous elements in our community."
"And I've always thought you were a corrupt piece of shit with a badge." I smile tightly. “Guess we're both entitled to our opinions."
His jaw tightens, but he forces a chuckle. "Always the comedian. Well, if you see her, you be sure to call it in."
"Sure thing." My lips curl into a mocking sneer. "I’ll do my civic duty like any good, law-abiding citizen."
As soon as he's outside, I lock the door behind him and flip the sign to CLOSED. Through the glass, I watch him get in his cruiser. He sits there a beat too long before finally pulling away.
Something stinks worse than week-old roadkill, and I need to figure out what the hell is really going on. I need some goddamn answers.
My fingers fly across my phone screen as I fire off a text to Cipher.
Shoving my phone in my pocket, I head to the back room, prepared to question Aria.
She’s exactly where I left her. Her hands are twisting together nervously, and her face is drained of color. My heart melts.
When she meets my gaze, her huge brown eyes brim with tears, and I decide the interrogation can wait.
Who the fuck are you? What happened to the soulless, hardcore, outlaw biker who can slit a man’s throat and watch him bleed out with no remorse?
I run a hand through my mohawk.
He’s been brought to his knees by a five-foot-nothing hundred-pound wisp of a woman.
“How'd you like to go for a ride?"
"A ride?" She blinks, confused by the sudden change in topic. "On your motorcycle?"
"Yeah. I'm thinking we can get out of here for a while. Clear our heads."
I pull my cut from the hook on the wall, shrugging it on before gathering a blanket, some bottled water, and snacks from my stash in the mini-fridge to stuff into my saddlebags.
From the storage closet, I retrieve a spare leather jacket.
"Here, put this on." I hold it up as Aria slides her arms into the sleeves. "It's chillier once we're on the road."
I place a finger under her chin, tipping her head up. Remembering our heated kisses, her plump, delicious lips and her warm, welcoming mouth, my cock starts to harden, but this isn’t the time. Not yet. “You good?" I ask.
Her smile is hesitant but genuine. "I'm good."
We slip out the back entrance to my Harley. I fill my saddlebags and hold out my hand to help Aria climb on behind me. The moment her arms wrap around my waist, I breathe easier.
"Hold tight," I tell her over my shoulder as the engine roars to life.
In minutes, we’re out of the city. The wind whips past us as we cruise back roads, the countryside opening up before us—it's freedom in its purest form.
I take the scenic route, weaving around slow-moving tractors on country lanes lined with cornfields, pumpkin patches, and apple orchards.
