Page 66 of Riding Free

Just when I decide it’s time to get up and get dressed, my phone buzzes in my hand with what seems like a hundred text messages, but when I glance down at the screen, I realize I’m now in a group text.

ELODIE: Be ready and at the clubhouse in thirty minutes. We’re going wedding dress shopping.

JULIETTE: I can’t wait. I love dress shopping.

CHASSIS: I’ll be waddling there.

ALEX: I’m excited for you, Keely, but count me out.

I smile. I didn’t even have to reach out to them, which means that Brock did, which makes me fall for him just a little more. Although I’m already head over heels for him, I’m not sure how much further I can fall.

But he’s going to test that, I see, by being so damn sweet and thoughtful.

CHAPTER

FIFTY

HOUND

“What the fuck do you mean they’ve been cutting and dealing coke, then whoring out women with the Russians?” he asks.

I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need me to repeat that, because I’ve made it pretty fucking clear, plus that’s the gist of the entire story. He taps his index finger against his desk, no doubt thinking about what I’ve just said.

“I’m not sure what to do with this information,” he murmurs.

“If we say anything to Cake, they’ll know it came from me. That puts a target on the whole club. It also could make for a sticky situation with the Russians,” I point out.

Dare nods a couple of times before he clears his throat. “We need to find out if the Russians have their fingers in pies all over the country with our club. It would make sense as to how this whole thing started with Chassis and the guy who tried to weasel his way into our world.”

“A plan that failed and yet somehow didn’t at the same time,” I say.

Dare chuckles. “It failed for him because he’s dead as a goddamn doornail, but the ultimate desire came to fruition.”

“Do you think Rustik planned it that way?” I ask. “Like he sacrificed a lower-level soldier in an effort to look like he was with us, on our side, when he really just wanted in here and with the Prescott club?”

Dare presses his lips together, rolling them a few times, and then he nods once.

“Honestly?” he asks. “Yeah, I fucking do. I’ve known something was off, but I haven’t been able to put my finger on it or connect the dots. But look at what the fuck is going on: he’s got us running around the country delivering women, collecting his fucking money, and he’s got Cake’s permission to do it all. We’re in bed with them in a way where we can’t just get out now.”

“I’m not sure I like the concept.”

“No shit,” Dare grumbles. “But we’re fucking fucked now, and I helped facilitate it all. We try to walk away, we’re in breach, and it’s a fucking war, something I’ve been trying to avoid this whole goddamn time.”

There’s literally nothing we can do about it at this point. We’re in bed together, all fucking one another, and there’s no way out. Dare doesn’t end it there, though. Obviously, he’s not finished with this conversation, which is fine with me, because I doubt I ever will be done discussing the Russians and trying to figure out their next play.

“Only thing we can do at this point is try to stay ahead of them, which is hard to do since they’re already several steps ahead of us. But I want you and Hippie to do some research. Off the books and discreetly.”

I already know what he wants without him having to ask. “You want us to figure out just how many clubs they’ve got working for them.”

“They aren’t stupid,” Dare murmurs.

He nods his head once, lifting his hands and steepling them in front of his face, his elbows resting on the desk. Then he leans back in his office chair, his eyes looking beyond me at the wall, but I can tell he’s not seeing anything in this room. He’s thinking.

“When we take this to Cake, we need to have all the information. We keep our heads down and ask questions, lots of questions, and document it all. I don’t want anyone else to know yet. Just you and Hippie. And if it requires you to do some visits, just let me know, and we can figure out a schedule for that.”

Dipping my chin slightly, I let out a long exhale. I’m not sure how the fuck this is going to go and what kind of box of shit we’re opening up here, but I can’t deny that it feels good to be working like this. No more status quo being acceptable. Now we’re doing the real fucking thing.

“And the transports?” I ask. “Rustik was happy with our service?”