Page 19 of Rider Daddies (Venom Vultures MC #6)

RYDER

Grizzly wraps up the meeting and heads back into his office.

I can’t even look at our prez right now. I’m still choosing to give him the silent treatment. He stopped us from riding after Lucia the other night.

It’s been three days and there still hasn’t been any sight of her.

I get it. Grizzly doesn’t have the best opinion of Lucia since she lied to us about her name. He also said that it wasn’t worth it to risk the club. But he wouldn’t be thinking that in the fucking first place if it wasn’t for Saint opening his big mouth about Tristan being a lawyer.

Thanks to him, Grizzly has even more ammunition to want to forget about Lucia, since she’s tangled up with government officials who have it in their interests to expose us, apparently.

And while I think he has a point, I still wanted to get my cock wet first.

I bang my beer on the table and bite my lip—a habit I’ve found myself doing ever since Lucia left.

Even though Grizzly says not to, Ash, Saint and I have been taking it upon ourselves to ride out all day, searching for her.

Manual has apparently been targeting smaller communities on the outskirts of Vegas, according to Grizzly’s findings.

The past few days, we’ve been riding ourselves to dehydration trying to locate her.

We might’ve crossed the line a few times, but it was all for the greater good.

That’s what I keep telling Saint, who, for the past two days, has been reeling over the cocky nobody we shot for insulting our choice of outfits. He then proceeded to tell us that he knew Manual on a personal level, just to get a rise out of us.

“He needed to be fucking shot,” I tell Saint.

Ash glares at me from across the table.

“He did!” I insist. “He was fucking playing with us.”

“And we’re no closer to finding Lucia,” Ash reminds us.

“Killing for sex has to be a new low.” Saint reaches for his pack of cigarettes and inserts one between his lips. He lights it up and exhales the smoke like a dragon, staring into space. “Why am I feeling so shit?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s not like you pulled the trigger.”

“Not about that.” He waves his hand. “I’m talking about Lucia. She was taken by fucking Manual Lombardi. If society gave celebrity status to criminals, he would basically be on par with Leonardo DiCaprio, Hollywood gold—good at what he does. One of the best in his field.”

“I can’t believe Tristan went as far as marriage to try and own her,” Ash says.

“It’s sickening,” I say. “We should be the only ones claiming Lucia.”

“Woah.” Ash raises a hand. “Steady on. I’m still not all for the idea.”

“Don’t freak out,” Saint says. “It’s not actually happening.”

God, I kinda wish it was.

Three days without my Italian goddess.

It’s starting to test my patience.

I curl my hands around the beer and take a sip, hoping for this medicine to work its way through me.

I hoped for the same thing last night, and the night before, but I always end the day the same—staring at the ceiling having flashbacks to when Lucia first stormed in here smelling of exhaust fumes and Italian summer.

I need her.

Why?

She was like a package I never ordered. Something I didn’t know I needed until she made her grand entrance into my life.

A woman has never had such a profound effect on me before. I want to believe that I’m hung up on this because I never got the chance to fuck her, but deep down, I know that isn’t the reason why. Girls have come and gone from the clubhouse. I lay eyes on some, and then they’re gone with the wind.

But I don’t chase the wind.

I’ve never gotten the urge to search every small community in the Vegas vicinity, hoping to find her.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Saint has been feeling the exact same too.

With Ash, it’s less obvious, since he doesn’t open his mouth unless it’s to tell one of us off. But from the way he was acting around Lucia, I’ll bet he’s also missing her.

“For you three.”

I look up to see Brander throwing a letter onto the table, addressed to us.

“What the hell is this?” Ash asks.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you open it up and find out?” He walks away, leaving us confused.

“What the fuck?” I break the silence. “We never get mail.”

Ash gives me a stern look. “Strange, isn’t it? Lucia gets taken by Manual and three days later, a letter arrives on our doorstep. This will have something to do with Tristan.” Ash watches the letter like he’s waiting for a ticking time bomb to explode. “We shouldn’t open it.”

“What do you mean? We have to.” I reach for it.

“Ugh, give me that.” Saint grabs the letter and tears open the envelope like you would a bag of chips.

“I’m done with Tristan and his molester posse thinking they can torment us.

” He tosses away the envelope and rolls his eyes, surveying the card.

He flips it to show us. “Happy fucking birthday. What is this? An invite to our own funerals?” Then he opens the greeting card and freezes. “Shit.”

“What is it?”

Saint dismisses my question, eyes scanning the text.

“Fucking give it to me.” I tear it from his hands and read the inside myself.

Now I understand his cause for alarm.

Inside is a set of coordinates.

“Get out your phone,” I say to Ash. “I need you to type in these coordinates.”

“It’s a burner. What is this?” He takes the card from my grasp since I’m now only holding it with the tip of my finger. “ Best wishes, L .”

“The card is from Lucia,” Saint says. “We have to get to her.”

“Hold your horses,” Ash says. “How can we be so sure it’s Lucia who sent the card? What if it’s Manual and Tristan messing with us? Trying to lure us toward them so they can get the court case against us up and running. We can’t jump into this.”

“It’s Lucia,” Saint insists.

“Come on. Aside from the Italian heritage, what’s different about that woman? Really? She might put on a good smile and have a rocking body, but she’s a female. We have lots of those already.”

I stare at Ash. I see what he’s doing. He’s trying to talk himself out of this. I wish him the best with that—I see in his eyes that Lucia has been on his mind twenty-four-fucking-seven.

He’s a man who likes to stare into space even on the best of days, but the vacant episodes he’s been having recently are different.

He’s not thinking of our parents. How do I know?

Because when he’s dwelling on the past, his cheeks aren’t flushed and he’s not wiping his brow to contain the hot sweats.

He misses her.

We all do.

Saint takes off from the bar stool before we even have chance to order him back. He returns several minutes later with a stolen computer balanced in his hands.

“Is your goal today to piss off our only tech genius?”

“My goal today”—he raises the lid—“is to get Lucia back into our lives.” He takes the card from Ash and types the coordinates into the search engine. “You can thank me later.”

“I won’t be thanking you even if we’re all buried six feet under, still able to talk,” Ash grunts. “This is too dangerous. Don’t even get me started on what Grizzly will think about all of this.”

“Grizzly doesn’t need to know,” Saint fires back. He stares at the screen like his life depends on it, waiting for the coordinates to pick up. “Score.” He looks closer. “She’s on the outskirts of Vegas, being kept in what looks like—” He pinches the keypad, zooming in. “A motel.”

“See,” Ash says. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

“A motel that hasn’t been open since the eighties.”

That shuts him up.

I waggle my brows at Ash, noting the sudden shift in his expression. “Why the long face?”

“What’s Manual up to?”

“I think we know what that fucker is up to.” Saint takes a drag from his cigarette. “Whatever he’s planning, one thing is for certain—it involves Lucia.”

And with that, he shuts the laptop and disappears into the ammo room, leaving Ash and me to our own devices.

“This could be worth it,” I tell my brother.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, snap out of it. I saw the way you looked at her.”

“You’re only saying all of this now because you want my help in getting her back, for your sake. Let’s face it, you and Saint only want her back because you want a good go on her.”

Can’t blame a man for wanting to let off some steam.

I sit forward. “We killed a man in our pursuit to get her back. We might as well finish what we started. Besides, we’re talking about rapists.

The only thing Manual and his motherfuckers excel in is pinning down their victims. How far do you think they’re going to get, really , in the face of us?

It’s our life’s work to put people in their place.

I’m not about to let someone with a severe case of mental derangement get in the way of me having a good time. You shouldn’t either.”

Ash lets out a big sigh and stands up. “Fine, but just know, when we have her back, that first dibs I have still stands.”

“Fine,” I say.

In his wildest dreams…

“You do realize that Manual and Tristan could have several police units waiting for us?”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks again, Ash, for stating something so matter-of-factly that won’t be happening.”

“How can you be so sure?”

I slide leather gloves onto my hands, swinging a leg over my Harley.

“Because, like Saint and I have already mentioned, there was no time and date mentioned on the card. Manual might be a smart man, but he knows better than to get the cops onto his case. Lucia sent the card to us,” I say. “I’m sure of it.”

I place my motorcycle helmet onto my head, tightening the straps. Grizzly doesn’t know we’re going. Nobody does.

It’s so late that it doesn’t feel real. The desert is eerily quiet. There’s not even a breeze passing through. We worked all night at the clubhouse, cleared up, and now here we are—staring into thick darkness.

I activate the lights on the Harley to see the path laid out in front of us.

“I’ll direct,” I say, my phone balanced on the handlebars. “I’ll signal with my arm, left or right.”

“Let’s just get on with this,” Ash says.