Page 31 of Cinder (MC Fables #2)

L ars

When Ella leaves in the cab, I pull out from the underground garage and follow from a distance.

I’m so damn tired, I could sleep for the next decade.

But I want to know what just happened with Ella.

And to figure that out, I need to know who Ella is and why she carries her cards so close to her chest. And why she’d rather take a cab than have me drop her home .

She’s a mystery I’m determined to crack, and I know I won’t get any sleep with her on my mind.

When I spoke to Cheezy, he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information on her, which only furthers my suspicions.

Riding through the night, I don’t follow too close to the cab. Just keep my eye on the ruby lights in the distance as we cruise through the streets heading out of town. When the cab turns into a motel near the county line, I pull up across the road at a gas station and watch.

Ella gets out of the cab, pays the driver through the window, then unlocks the door to room nine and disappears inside.

Wait. She’s staying at the Blue Lagoon? The worst motel in St. Boniface? It’s a fucking dive full of people who have hit rock bottom. When addiction chews you up and spits you out, this is where you land.

I have half a mind to knock on her door and bring her back to the clubhouse.

But my attention is dragged away from room nine and toward the entrance of the parking lot where a car is pulling in.

It slows down as it approaches Ella’s room.

It’s a bronze Cadillac. Older style. I can’t see the driver clearly, but he’s a man in his late fifties or early sixties.

When the car comes to a stop outside Ella’s room, my instinct shoves into overdrive.

But then the door to number eight opens, and a man appears in the doorway. Spooked, the Cadillac speeds off.

Okay, what the fuck is going on?

Was the driver eyeballing number eight, or Ella’s room?

The man from number eight looks like a traveling businessman. Black pants. Crumpled white shirt. Slicked-back hair.

I expect him to disappear back inside and close the door behind him.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he knocks on Ella’s door, and my eyes narrow .

Who are you, and what are you up to?

Ella opens the door, and I can tell by her expression that she is less than impressed with her late-night caller.

On high alert, I’m itching to intervene.

But my gut tells me to wait and watch. She knows him but I can’t tell how well.

Maybe he’s just a neighbor checking in on her.

Or maybe he’s hitting on her. I’m too far away to hear what they’re talking about, but I can see she isn’t happy.

Fuck it. I don’t like the look of this.

But just as I’m about to ride over there, Ella pretend salutes him, then closes the door in his face. But Number Eight doesn’t move. Just stands there for a moment. Then slowly steps back from her doorway and disappears into his room and closes the door behind him.

I stay for a while. Just sit on my bike and watch, waiting for Ella to reappear or for something else to happen, all the while wondering why the hell she is living at the Blue Lagoon Motel, and who the hell is the man in the room next to her.

By the time I get back to my room at the clubhouse, I’m bone tired and ready for some shuteye.

I close the door behind me and throw my cut on the chair under the window, but the moment I sit on the edge of my bed to take off my boots, a figure sits up and damn near scares the living shit out of me .

“Jesus, Bambi,” I say, jumping up. Usually I would have picked up on her presence in the room, but I’m tired and preoccupied by a cute little brunette in a pair of cowboy boots and not paying attention like I should be.

I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s almost midnight.

“What are you doing in my bed, darlin’?”

“Luna is having a party of three with Balls and Axe in our room, and I can’t sleep through that shit. They’ve bumped Fantasia all night so they’re not stopping until sunrise. Can I sleep here tonight?”

I should tell her to go. But after a party, the clubhouse is at full capacity, and finding anywhere to sleep is going to be hard for Bambi.

“I’ll take the chair.” I cross the room to where the big old chair sits under the arched window and sink into it.

“Don’t do that, baby. Come to bed. I’ll keep you warm. Let me suck that beautiful cock of yours.”

I know how Bambi sucks cock, and it’s nothing short of mind blowing. But I’ve got another set of lips on my mind.

“Thanks for the offer, darlin’, but I’m going to get some shuteye,” I say, resting my feet on a small coffee table and lacing my fingers on my lap.

She pouts but doesn’t push it. “Well, I won’t bite if you decide otherwise.”

I give her a wink. “Good night, Bambi.”

“Good night, Lars.”