The Biker's Fate Chapter 452

Remington

Thursday morning, I was bouncing off the walls, needing out of the compound. Monday had been a shit show with Merrick's schedule, so I was forced to call the bank instead of going inside the building, which was fine, I was able to get enough information to order checks and such. But then he got stuck on a conference call with a client on Tuesday so by the time he got off, the class I'd wanted to join was over, which totally blew my plans since he refused to let anyone else take me.

Wednesday, I'd worked on a slide show for Natalie, and going through old photos from Michelle's life with me and Kennedy had been tough. So much so, I was snappy with Merrick all day, until he finally fucked me back into some semblance of normalcy that evening.

But now it was Thursday, and he'd wandered off to some private office somewhere in the back of the compound, and I was done.

"You look like you're about to pitch a hissy," Alamo observed, walking into the kitchen where I'd just poured my third cup of coffee. Alamo was tall, built, and had a kickass beard that begged to be touched. I didn't for obvious reasons, the least of which being Jasmine would cut me into a million pieces, and the most of which being I was in love with my own man.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" I deadpanned.

He smiled. "You need something?"

"I need out of this goddamn building."

"Finch not around?"

I shrugged. "I haven't seen him for over an hour. He's been stuck on some conference call for a year now, so I have a feeling I'm not gonna see him anytime soon."

"He not good with a recruit shuttling you?"

"Apparently not," I said with a sigh.

He checked his watch. "I got a few. Want me to take you somewhere?"

I bit my lip. "There's a class starting in twenty minutes at Parker, you know over on third?"

"The arts place?"

I nodded.

"Yeah, I can take you."

"Oh my god, that would be amazing. I'll just grab my stuff."

I made a run for Merrick's room, changing into a leotard and shoving toe shoes and sweats into a tote in record time. I met Alamo back downstairs in less than ten minutes, and we headed out to his truck.

"Did you let Finch know we're leaving?" he asked as I climbed up into his truck.

"Um, no, I'll do that now," I promised and pulled out my phone.

Alamo climbed into the cab and faced me. "All good?"

"Yep."

Technically, I hadn't heard back from Merrick, but I doubted he'd be concerned if I was with Alamo. And since I was a grown-ass adult, and I was with the Sergeant at Arms for a badass motorcycle club, I figured Merrick would be fine with it.

Little did I know I figured wrong. Very wrong.

Finch

I came up for air just before lunch and headed upstairs to look for Remington. My phone was currently charging in my room, considering I'd lost juice about an hour into my conference call with Mack. She wasn't there, so I snagged my phone off the nightstand and headed back downstairs.

As I descended the stairs, I read my texts and stalled. "What the fuck?" I snapped. I stalked downstairs and bellowed, "Alamo!"

"Yo!" he called back, and I followed the sound.

"Where the fuck's Remington?" I demanded, walking into the kitchen.

"At her dance class."

"Alone?"

"No. Stump's on her."

"Goddammit, I said no one but me."

"I'm out, man." He raised his hands in surrender. "She said you were cool. I'm supposed to be picking her up in half an hour, but you feel free to go since you seem to be free."

I nodded. This had nothing to do with Alamo and I didn't doubt that Remington had led him to believe all was cool.

Alamo jotted down the address and I grabbed the keys to my rental and headed out. I took a couple of deep breaths in an effort to calm down. The last thing I needed was to get pulled over.

Arriving at the conservatory, I saw Stump's bike out front, but refused to relax, especially since Remington and I had had a very clear and concise conversation about her movements. I walked into the building and saw Stump leaning up against a wall at the end of the hallway, so I headed that way.

"Thanks, brother. I got her," I said, and Stump nodded.

I could tell he knew something was up, but walked away without comment and I stood where he'd just been a few minutes ago.

Fuming.

Remington

I flopped down on the floor after the workout of the century, my body on fire, but my mind finally quieted, as I pulled off my toe shoes and yanked on sweats and tennies.

I still hadn't received a return text from Merrick, so I hoped he was just busy and not mad at me. Luckily, I'd have some backup in the form of Alamo should Merrick decide to get pissy.

Madame Sellers made her way to me and gave me a big smile. "You've been working hard, Remington. You looked beautiful."

"Thank you."

"We are looking for talented instructors for the fall season, in case you're interested. We'd love to have you."

"Oh, wow. Um, thank you. I'm not sure where I'll be in the fall, but I can let you know."

"I'll need to know by the beginning of next month."

"I'll keep that in mind," I promised.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked toward the exit, stalling when I walked out to find a very angry, however, very delicious looking Tweety. "Hey, honey."

He scowled, but said nothing.

Okay, pissy is the way it's going, apparently.

"Did you get my text?"

"Yeah," he grunted, taking my bag from me.

"But you're mad."

"Mad doesn't even touch what I am, Remington."

Shit.

"Why?"

"We'll talk back at the compound."

"Um, no, we'll talk now."

"Not having this conversation in a public place, Rem," he growled.

"You cannot be mad."

He scowled again and settled his hand on my lower back to guide me toward the doors.

"Tweety, you were busy. Alamo brought me. Not a recruit."

Pushing open the door, he held it while I walked out. "And yet, Stump was in the hall waiting on you."