23. Molly
Chapter twenty-three
Molly
Crumpling the wrapper from the Mr. Clucky Bucket chicken place, I toss it on the floor of my car and keep rolling through town.
It’s been three days since the day I was fucking Sleaze and saw Cici at the club. I don’t know where she went, but she’s not at the beach house. I’ve been by there several times, and no one has been there since the club pulled out.
She must be staying with friends or family, but I have no clue where that may be.
Duck has been giving me hell, and I know he won’t wait any longer. He wants Cici, and he wants her before the club returns.
Unfortunately, she stopped returning my texts.
How the hell am I supposed to make it happen when I don’t know where the little bitch is?
Turning the wheel, I head to the beach one last time, but there’s no car in the drive, and the place is still quiet, so I make another buzz through town, hoping to see her car.
After an hour of wasted gas, I decide to go to the clubhouse and see if I can get any information out of Sleaze.
He’s pretty closed-mouthed about club business, but I’ve played up the fact that Cici and I are buddy-buddy.
I can tell Sleaze doesn’t give a damn and barely pays attention.
My only use to him is sex, and I know it, but right now, he’s my only in at the clubhouse.
When I pull up, there are three bikes parked out front, just like last time. Sleaze’s red chopper, Billy Jack’s sleek black one, and the gray one that belongs to Booze. I don’t know him too well. He’s like Sleaze—not much of a talker, but with eyes that miss nothing.
I stroll up to the door, but when I pull on the handle, it won’t budge. I bang my palm on the steel. There’s music blasting, and I wonder if they can hear me.
My eyes hit the cameras mounted up high, and I know if they are paying attention, they can see me out here.
A moment later, the door opens and Sleaze’s big body fills the space. He leans against the frame.
“What do you want?”
“I came to have a drink with you, handsome.”
“Now’s not a good time, Molly.”
“Just one little one.” I walk my fingers up his chest.
He grabs my wrist and shoves it away. “We’re on lockdown. Can’t have any fun today, babe.”
“Why not?” I crane my neck to see beyond him and spot Taylor and Cici at the bar. “Why are they here?”
He shoves me back. “Can’t talk. Get out of here.”
The door slams in my face, and I stand there with my mouth open.
What the fuck is going on?
My gaze hits the camera again, and I return to my car like there’s nothing wrong.
Starting the engine, I slowly pull out, scanning the building as I do.
Cici’s car is parked at the very back of the lot by the dumpsters.
There’s a back camera, but Sleaze let it slip once that it's broken.
He cursed the fact that he was going to have to get a ladder and replace the thing.
Studying it now, I can see it's still an old model, and I realize he never got around to replacing it.
I grin and plot out coming back tonight. If I can get inside, I could hide, and they’d never know I was there.
I’ve got to figure out why Cici and Taylor are there and why they’re on lockdown. I need to lure Cici away. Duck won’t wait much longer.
Frowning, the thought crosses my mind that maybe Duck and the Sinners have made a move that tipped off the Kings of Anarchy. Morons. If Duck would just listen to me, I’d give him fucking Cici.
If he’d just be goddamned patient.
I bite my lip. Somehow, I’ve got to get in there tonight, if just to find out why the hell Taylor is there. Cici I can see. She’s Gage’s daughter, and the club is out of town. It makes sense that he’d have the prospects watch out for her until his return.
Does Taylor’s presence indicate she means more to Player than I thought? Does it mean the club is returning soon?
I’ve got to find out.
When night falls, I park down the road and sneak onto the lot under cover of darkness.
I skirt around to the back of the clubhouse to avoid the working cameras in front.
The back door that comes off the kitchen is locked, so I creep around, trying windows, but can’t find any that aren’t locked tight.
Squatting against the wall, I cuss under my breath, wondering what to do.
A moment later, the back door flings open, and Billy Jack strolls out, whistling and carrying a trash bag. He pauses to wedge a stick under the door, then heads across the lot to the dumpsters in the far corner.
I dart inside and move through the kitchen and into the hall.
Everything is dark, but I can hear voices coming from the dining room.
The sound of the back door shutting echoes to me, and I try a door, finding a broom closet filled with buckets and mops. I squeeze inside, and a minute later, Billy Jack tromps down the hall past me, still whistling.
Waiting until the sounds fade into the distance, I crack the door open and peer out. The hall is empty.
My eyes hit the door to Gage’s office, and I try the knob but find it locked.
Cursing, I move to another door and find it unlocked.
Slipping inside, I realize it's someone’s room. Glancing at the photos on the tall dresser, I realize it must be Cruz’s room. There’s a shot of him with his Harley. He’s the son-of-a-bitch who hates me. The one who wanted Player to dump me at a gas station the morning we rode to the beach house.
The day Player ran into Taylor at the cemetery.
Cruz is an asshole, and I knew from the start he’d be trouble. He’s smart. Maybe too smart. I should pee on his bed just to teach him a fucking lesson. But I’m tired and decide to put it to better use, crawling under the covers and playing on my phone.
I yawn. Tomorrow I’ll make my move.