Page 33 of Heat (The Royal HArlots MC, Quebec City-Canada #1)

Chapter Thirty-Two

After leaving the barn behind. The drive back to the secure lot was quiet. No one followed. No more surprises. By the time she parked and climbed into the sleeper, Sayer was out cold.

He lay sprawled on the bed, his shirt and jeans stained red—some of it his, some from the fight. The smell of blood was sharp in the small space, clinging to the walls like smoke. She crouched beside him and carefully lifted his shirt.

The slice across his abdomen made her suck in a quiet breath. It wasn’t deep enough to be fatal, but it would need cleaning and closing before the bleeding would stop. What worried her more was the gash on his forehead, where a purplish lump was already forming beneath the skin.

She grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet, hands steady even as her stomach turned. She’d seen worse. She’d patched worse. That didn’t make it easier.

With a clean cloth and antiseptic, she wiped away the blood, checking the depth of the cuts. The one on his head bled the most, sluggish and thick. She cleaned it, applied antibiotic cream, then closed both wounds with steri-strips, pressing them down with practiced fingers.

Sayer stirred with a quiet groan, his eyes fluttering open, unfocused and heavy with pain.

“Lay still,” she said gently, pressing her palm to his chest to keep him grounded. “I’ve got you.”

Sayer blinked slowly, his breath shallow but steady. He looked up at her through the haze, his voice raspy. “You always know what to do.”

Diamond gave a soft snort, more exhaustion than humor. “That’s not true. I just don’t have the luxury of freezing.”

His brow furrowed, like he was trying to piece together more than just the pain. “You shouldn’t have left them,” he murmured. “Those two… you should’ve just?—”

“Killed them?” she interrupted, not unkindly. “Yeah. Maybe I should’ve.”

Her fingers paused over the strip she was pressing to his forehead. Her voice dropped, “But if I start killing everyone who deserves it, I’m not sure I’d stop.”

Sayer didn’t answer right away. His eyes slipped closed again, but not fully. When he spoke next, his words were softer, more grounded, “You could’ve let me bleed out.”

Diamond’s jaw clenched. “Don’t be an idiot.”

His hand found hers, weak but certain. “I’m just saying… thanks for taking care of me.”

She didn’t say anything to that. Just kept her eyes on the wound, on the steady rise and fall of his chest. Her thumb brushed against his wrist before she pulled away.

“Get some rest,” she said, clearing her throat. “I’ll keep watch.”

Once the wounds were cleaned and closed, Diamond sat on the floor next to the bed, her back pressed to the wall, knees drawn up. The dim light of the sleeper cast long shadows, but all she could see were her hands—stained red, slick with dried blood.

They started to shake.

She stared at them, willing the tremble to stop, but it wouldn’t. The adrenaline was wearing off. Reality was creeping back in.

She hadn’t expected Carla’s ex to actually find them. That bastard was all bark at the casino, and she figured he’d crawl back under his rock once the heat picked up. But he hadn’t. He’d come looking. They had.

And if it hadn’t been her and Sayer out there—if it had been Seven, or worse, Carla and the girls?—

Diamond shoved the thought down, swallowing hard as she scrambled to her feet. Her palms left smears of red on her jeans. She moved to the tiny sink and scrubbed her hands, the water running pink before it cleared. She didn’t stop until her skin was raw.

Once clean, she grabbed the long-handled inspection mirror tucked in the side compartment—one of the tools they’d picked up along the way, the kind border agents used to check under rigs and trailers. She stepped outside, the cool air hitting her face like a slap.

Someone knew where they were. Someone had tracked them.

Diamond crouched low and started sweeping the mirror beneath the undercarriage of the truck, her eyes sharp, movements tight and controlled. She was done waiting for someone else to make the first move.

The mirror caught the faintest glint of metal near the back axle—tucked high, almost invisible against the grime of the undercarriage.

Diamond crotched down and crept under the truck and reached up, fingers working carefully around the small black device no bigger than a matchbox.

She popped it free, holding it up to the light.

Sleek. Commercial grade. No blinking light, no flashy branding—whoever planted it knew what they were doing.

She climbed back to her feet, heart still pounding. Diamond pulled out her burner and dialed Fifi.

“Yeah?” Fifi’s voice came through, casual and crackly.

“I’ve got a problem,” Diamond said, already heading back into the sleeper. “Found a tracker under the rig. Need to know where it came from and who it’s talking to.”

There was a pause. Then, sharper. “Send me a pic.”

Diamond snapped a quick photo and sent it over. Fifi didn’t waste time.

“Give me fifteen,” she said. “Don’t turn it off, don’t mess with it. Just hang tight.”

Diamond looked over at Sayer, still breathing steady, blood-streaked but alive.

“Hanging tight isn’t really my style,” she muttered, but kept the line open anyway.

Fifteen minutes felt like an hour.

Diamond paced outside the rig, one eye on the tracker in her palm, the other on the horizon. The night air had that heavy stillness to it. The kind that made her feel like something was watching, even if nothing moved.

Her phone buzzed. Fifi.

“Got your hit,” she said, no small talk. “Signal’s been bouncing through a cheap relay, but it’s clean. Registered to a burner tied to an account used by none other than Todd Merrick.”

Diamond exhaled slowly. “Carla’s ex.”

“Bingo. Looks like he bought it a couple of weeks back. Probably slapped it on during one of those supply runs if you weren’t watching.”

Diamond pinched the bridge of her nose. “He’s sloppier than I thought.”

“No,” Fifi said, voice tight. “He’s desperate. Desperate makes people sloppy.”

Diamond nodded to herself, a slow sense of relief creeping in.

It wasn’t a new enemy. It wasn’t a leak from the inside.

It was him . Todd. Still chasing control the way cowards did—through tracking and intimidation.

For now Todd wasn’t her concern. Unless he and his brother had other men trying to find his wife and kids.

“Appreciate you, Fi.”

“You owe me donuts,” Fifi replied. “And maybe a new keyboard if mine catches fire from this trash signal. You good?”

“For now,” Diamond said. “But keep your ear to the ground. If he had a tracker, there’s no telling what else he’s been playing with.”

“Always do, we’ve started destroying everything.” Fifi said before the line cut.

Diamond looked at the device one more time, then crushed it under her boot.

She wasn’t relieved because it was over. Just relieved she knew who she was dealing with.

At least for now.