MY HOT BIKER SAVIOUR
The meeting with Old Pete, the confrontation with the trucker, the card in my hand.
He’d been waiting for an opportunity to reach out.
“Just need to clean up first,” I said softly.
Marcus’s pleasant mask slipped for just a second. “I’ll wait in the car.” As he turned to leave, Ryder spoke again. “Drive safe.” The words were friendly. The threat beneath them was clear as breaking glass.
I waited until Marcus was gone before looking at the card. It wasn’t a business card at all, but a playing card—the queen of hearts, with a phone number written in black ink across the face.
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