Page 5 of Pearl (Royal Harlots MC, Phoenix, Az. #1)

Pearl

I t’s clearly not an argument I’m going to win with the big burly member of the Phoenix Crew who may be thinking logically but not telling me what I want to hear.

I’m not leaving her there. No fucking way in hell.

I just need time to think and figure out next steps.

I follow him back and hear the jangle of keys locking us safely into the room as his footsteps disappear into the night.

All in the name of safety, with no chance to get into trouble.

I fume at the situation because locked in anywhere, no matter the reason, is not where I want to be.

Fucking night from hell is putting it lightly.

Angel lounges on one of the couches and Charity is on the floor with a pillow and a blanket.

Angel wipes her puffy eyes trying to hide the fact that she’s been crying but I’ve seen enough of that in my day.

“You can take that bed if you want,” Charity says as I tug off my boots and run my fingers through my hair, brushing it out loosely before tying it back up in a ponytail. I leave the bed for someone else.

I lie back on the couch not even bothering to get undressed, just closing my mind to think and to breathe but that’s easier said than done.

Every time I think about the sisters being separated, I think about my own sister, torn from me so early in life.

Maybe not by a monster who kidnapped her and was in the process of trafficking her until a well-meaning connected family and their bikers stepped in, but a disease as monstrous as any.

No matter the reason. That bond and love doesn’t just go away, and no amount of time closes that wound. And her sister is still alive. Not dead, like mine.

Hours pass, and sleep comes and goes, dragging my exhausted mind under before waking unexpectedly again.

A glance at my watch at the crack of dawn assures me that there’s still time.

There may not be time to gather an army, or to coordinate an attack, or to do all the things we would normally do, but there is still time.

Nobody makes the ride between Phoenix and Vegas faster than me. And that’s a fucking fact.

I pull on my boots and scrounge around in my backpack before hitting the shower, reholstering the pearl-handled Glock my daddy gave me so long ago, and my trusty knives.

I find the little tool I need at the bottom of my bag, saying a silent thank you to the boy who taught me to pick locks and sneak out of foster homes so long ago.

Brent, if you’re still out there and alive somewhere, thank you.

Onyx is wrapped in the bedding, sleeping with it around her like a cocoon.

I wake my VP with a shake to her shoulder, my backpack already in place and ready to ride.

“Wake up,” I whisper as she squints at me through barely opened eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asks with a start, suddenly coming very much alive and ready to throw down if need be.

“Hawg has a truck picking the ladies up at seven tonight. It will take them to Duchess. I’m going to Vegas to get Angel’s sister.

I need you to get on the phone, make some calls, find a strip club, this side of Vegas.

The owner is apparently a sister to some rogue bike club but some skeeze manages it for her.

Text me where I’m going when you find out, but I need to get on the road now.

I’ll be back with Lacey before that truck leaves tonight. And keep your phone on.”

Onyx shakes her head, sitting up in a hurry. “Listen to me. You’re fucking crazy. I’ll go with you. There’s no way I’m letting you go alone. Have you lost your fucking mind?”

My jaw tightens. It’s not as if I haven’t thought of every stinking option all night long.

“I need you here in case things go south and you need to take charge. Are you hearing me? I am trusting you with the lives of the ladies.” I glance around at all of the Harlots wrapped in sleeping bags lying all over the floor.

“That’s a big fucking job. That’s what you need to do.

And if you don’t hear from me by six, you get those ladies on that truck, and you and the rest of the Harlots get on it with them, because shit’s gone south and they may be coming after you.

The truck will be heading to upstate NY and Duchess will protect you. ”

Onyx arches an eyebrow. I meet her look straight on.

“I’ll be fine Onyx, take care of the ladies.

” She knows exactly what to do if someone takes me out.

I have complete faith that if something ever happens to me, my VP and second in command will do whatever it takes to keep these ladies safe and keep the club intact.

She finally says something. “Holy hell! How I ended up with a crazy woman like you for a friend I’ll never know. Get the fuck out of here and you better call me the minute you know you’re okay.”

I grin. “Get me that address, Onyx.”

The little tool that Brent, a friend at foster care gave me years ago, hasn’t let me down once in all these years and it comes through just like always this time.

Every door, every single time. None of them are a match for this little silver beauty.

I close it behind me, wishing I’d had the good sense to toss some blankets on the couch to make it look like I’m still sleeping in case anyone looks in on us, but it’s too late for that, I’m halfway up the stairs and not going back.

The bar is dark and eerily quiet as I make my way through the quiet club, heading to the back exit. A floorboard creaks just before I reach the door and stops me dead in my tracks.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

My throat constricts as I swallow hard, but I keep moving, more quickly than before, reaching the door and opening it as quietly as I can before making it out and around the dumpsters to my bike.

I push my Harley almost a block before I jump on, check my watch, and make the engine roar.

Five minutes to five in the morning. I’ll beat all the rush hour traffic of Phoenix and hopefully the cops won’t be out in full force until later in the day.

If I’m lucky, and I know I’ll need all the luck I can get today.

Because nothing about this mission is sane.

I know it’s crazy, but I’m doing it just the same.

Three stop lights without having to brake at all, and then I hit the ramp toward the highway, giving my ride enough gas to cruise along at a comfortable speed.

Once I hit the wide-open road where it’s just me and the beauty of the desert, I’ll lay the hammer down and make up some time.

There’s no room for error on this ride. One stop, and with my record, it could land me back in the slammer and cost Angel’s sister her life.

And that’s not going to fucking happen, not on my watch, and not on my ride.

The engine roars between my thighs as mile after mile passes.

As president of the Harlots, it’s my responsibility to care for the women in my club, and by extension, anyone we choose to help.

Angel’s going to see her sister Lacey again.

I’m going to make damn sure of that even if I have to put some fuckers in the ground to make it happen.

And if the flashing light behind me is any indication, this day just got a whole lot fucking worse and it’s barely started. Because no one, cops included, are going to stop me from my mission.