Chapter 28
Roman
I collapse into the chair across from Dragon’s desk with a groan that comes from somewhere deep and primal.
My body feels like it’s been dragged behind my bike for miles, every muscle screaming in protest, and my thoughts are too scattered to make sense of the pieces we’ve gathered.
But the one thing that is clear is that someone wants Kayla dead, and I’ll be damned if I let that happen.
Dragon looks as wrecked as I feel, his usual composure fraying at the edges.
There are dark circles under his eyes, and his long hair is down from its usual knot.
Gray stands silently by the window, his face giving nothing away, though the tension in his shoulders betrays his exhaustion.
Gunner is slumped against the wall, occasionally rubbing his bloodied knuckles.
And then there’s Demon, lounging in a chair like this is all some amusing diversion, though even his smirk looks strained around the edges.
“Eight fucking hours,” I mutter, downing the rest of my coffee and wishing it was whiskey. “Eight hours and what do we have? A hired thug who doesn’t know shit.”
Dragon sighs, tapping a folder on his desk. “He knew enough. Five grand to kill Kayla and make it look like a burglary gone wrong. No questions asked.”
“He didn’t see who hired him,” Gray adds, his voice flat. “Just a man in a parking lot. Cash in an envelope. No names exchanged.”
I snort. “Real professional operation.”
“You’d be surprised how often it works,” Demon drawls, examining his nails like we’re discussing the weather rather than a hit on my ex-wife. “Most people who are murdered are murdered by amateurs.”
I glare at him, not in the mood for his commentary. “Did Hack find anything useful at all?”
Dragon opens the folder, spreading out several pages.
His name is Caden Meyers. Has a record that goes back to his teens, mostly petty crime but escalating.
Just finished serving a four month sentence earlier this year.
Hack couldn’t find any affiliation with any organized group. Just a low-level criminal for hire.”
“I think we all know who hired him,” I say, leaning forward, my eyes finding Demon’s. “Naomi. The only question is, why?”
A corner of Demon’s mouth quirks up. “Well, well. If you keep using that brain of yours, maybe soon you won’t be the dullest knife in the drawer anymore.”
I ignore the jab. “Why Kayla? Why now, after two years?”
Dragon frowns, turning to Demon. “You mentioned last night that your men weren’t the only ones looking for her the night she was kidnapped. Was it Naomi targeting Kayla then, too?”
Demon’s smile widens, but there’s no warmth in it. “Naomi really is a delight, isn’t she? Such enthusiasm for her hobbies.”
“Cut the cryptic bullshit,” I snap. “This isn’t a game.”
Gray steps forward from his position by the window. “The question stands. Why would Kayla be such a target? What does Naomi gain?”
“Do you remember Diesel?” Demon asks, his eyes sliding to mine.
I nod slowly. “Diesel was a solid mechanic before he started moving up in the ranks. He was road captain when I left.”
“And he became Atlas’s new VP after that,” Demon says, leaning back in his chair. “Shame what happened to his old lady though. Shelby’s brakes failed a few months ago.” He clicks his tongue. “Didn’t survive the crash. But Naomi is doing an excellent job of consoling the grieving widower.”
I blink, trying to process this. “Wait, Shelby? That doesn’t make any sense. She was one of Naomi’s attack dogs. When Kayla left me, Shelby was leading the harassment campaign. She did whatever Naomi wanted.”
“And yet,” Demon says, spreading his hands wide.
I shake my head in confusion. “You’re saying Naomi had something to do with Shelby’s crash? But why would she-“
“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Demon interrupts, irritation finally cracking his casual facade.
“If the question is, ‘Why does Naomi?’ the answer is, ‘She’s fucking insane.’” He stands up and begins to pace.
“I’ve been watching her for years. She doesn’t like competition, and everyone is disposable to her. Shelby wasn’t her only victim.”
A chill runs through me. “What do you mean?”
“Most of the old guard you would have known are gone,” Demon says. “The members who joined under your father and tried to stand against her. Some disappeared, some had unfortunate ‘accidents,’ and others just got pushed out.”
Steel. Wrench. Guzzler. Names and faces flash through my mind; they were all men who taught me, men I respected, men I abandoned when I walked away. Guilt turns my stomach sour. I should have protected them somehow.
Demon continues, his voice bringing me back to the present. “As for why she’s targeting Kayla?” He shrugs. “You rejected her for Kayla. You left the Rejects because of Kayla. You chose Kayla over the club. Over her.”
“And why now?” Dragon asks.
“If I had to guess, Atlas was keeping her on a tighter leash before,” Demon replies.
“He’s many things, but he’s not stupid. He wouldn’t have wanted to risk problems with you.
” He nods at Dragon. “But Atlas hasn’t been in the best health lately.
According to my men inside the Rejects, it’s Naomi and her hand picked circle who are increasingly running the show. ”
I straighten in my chair. “You have men inside the Rejects?”
Demon smirks. “I have men everywhere.”
“What exactly do you have on Naomi and the Rejects?” I press. “You’ve been hunting her for years. What’s your endgame?”
Something shifts in Demon’s expression. “Naomi has big dreams of making the Devil’s Rejects powerful. She wants to be feared. And in the last year, she found someone to help her make those dreams come true.”
“Who?” Gray demands.
Demon shrugs. “Not even I have been able to figure that out. But whoever it is pays very, very well. Naomi had been skimming off the top of the club businesses for years to fund her habits and lifestyle. But now she doesn’t need to.”
Dragon leans forward, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “What is this mystery person paying the Devil’s Rejects to do?”
“Storing things. Moving things. Selling things.”
“What kind of things?” I ask, already dreading the answer.
“Just the type of things that could get a person sent away for life,” Demon says casually. “Certain types of drugs. Weapons.” He pauses for effect. “People.”
Dragon jolts visibly, his eyes widening. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“People,” Gray repeats, his voice hardening. “You’re talking about human trafficking.”
“Do you have proof?” Dragon demands.
Demon just smiles, and the silence that follows is answer enough.
Dragon rubs his face, suddenly looking ten years older. “I need time to think about this,” he says finally. “If this is true, we can’t let it continue.”
My mind is still reeling, but my priority is clear. “What about Kayla? She’s not safe.”
Dragon nods. “Until Naomi is dealt with, she can’t go back to her house. She needs to stay here, at the compound.”
“I’ll make sure she understands,” I agree. “She’ll be worried about her cats, though. And she’ll need clothes, toiletries.”
“I’ll send my sister Molly with a couple of guys to get her things,” Dragon decides. “Molly will know what to pick better than any of my men.”
I nod, relieved. “I’ll go talk to Kayla.”
But as I stand up, the room seems to tilt beneath me, my exhaustion finally getting the best of me. Dragon notices.
“Get some rest first,” he orders. “You’re no good to anyone dead on your feet.”
I want to argue, but my body betrays me with a jaw-cracking yawn. “Just for an hour,” I concede. “Then I’ll find Kayla.”
I drag myself to my room, barely managing to kick off my boots before stepping into the shower. The hot water revives me a little, washing away the night’s tension. Clean and in fresh clothes, I sit on the edge of my bed, intending to rest my eyes for just a moment before seeking out Kayla.
The next thing I know, sunlight is slanting through the blinds at a different angle, and I realize with a jolt that hours have passed. I’ve slept through the morning and into the afternoon.
“Shit,” I mutter, jumping to my feet, my heart suddenly racing. I need to find Kayla. Now.
I pull on my boots with more speed than grace, cursing under my breath the entire time.
I was supposed to be there when she woke up.
Was supposed to be the first person she saw, the one familiar face in a building full of strangers.
Instead, Kayla has been alone for half the day with no explanation and no one she trusts.
I yank on my shirt, run a hand through my hair, and head for the door.
I find her in the kitchen.
I stop in the doorway and take in the scene, and something shifts in my chest that I’m not entirely sure what to do with.
Kayla is standing at the big prep counter next to Maddie, both of them elbow-deep in what appears to be serious dinner preparation.
They’re talking together as if they’ve known each other for years rather than hours, and Kayla is laughing at something Maddie just said, her head tilted back, the sound of it filling the kitchen in a way that makes the air feel different.
At the counter to their left, Finn is very unhappily slicing onions. He has the expression of a man serving a prison sentence. His eyes are watering, and he looks up when I enter with the specific resentment of someone who believes their situation is deeply unjust.
Kayla spots me first, her smile dimming only slightly. “There you are,” she says. “I was starting to think you’d gone into hibernation.”
“Sorry,” I say, stepping fully into the kitchen. “I just meant to rest for an hour.”
“You needed it,” she replies, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “You looked like death warmed over last night.”