Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition by Elizabeth Knox (top 5 ebook reader txt) 📕

up my lunch Justine had packed for me, and my eyes were burning. Wine hangovers were the worst for me, which was why I usually only had a few glasses max, not a few bottles.

There had been no word on Danielle. I’d called the police station to see if they’d heard anything, but of course they had nothing to report on an ongoing investigation. I’d barely gotten a thing done.

The day had been so awful, I hadn’t had time to realize there hadn’t been a single peep from Luke since last night when he blew me off. So when he sent me a text to see if I wanted to come over, I sat there staring at my phone.

The thought of doing anything but curling up in a ball made me start dry heaving.

Me: Tonight’s not a good night

The dots flashed, then disappeared several times. My brow lowered in confusion. It made me wonder what the heck he was typing and erasing.

Except the message that came through was one word.

Luke: Fine

“Fine? That’s it? Fine?” I asked out loud, flabbergasted.

Then I laid my forehead to the cool wood of the desk. It was time to call it a day. My hand fumbled blindly for the phone. When I bumped the receiver, it fell to the desktop with a clatter that made me wince. Then I felt around until I hit the first button on the bottom row.

“Yes, Hailey?” Alba asked entirely too cheerfully, in my opinion.

“I’m not feeling well. I think I’m going to leave a little early.”

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked kindly.

“No, but thank you.”

I ended the call and pulled my drawer open with my head still on the desk. The sunglasses I’d borrowed from Justine as she’d laughed in my face that morning went back on.

“Goodnight,” Alba called out, and I gave a silent wave without glancing her way.

My feet were killing me as I crossed the lot and got in my car. Justine’s shoes were a size too small, but they matched the blouse I’d borrowed from her perfectly. The drive home was made in blessed silence. I parked in the garage, went inside, drew all the blinds, popped some Tylenol, and fell into bed.

My dreams were plagued by a bearded biker who kissed me head-to-toe before making me scream his name.

Snow

“Bad Company”—Five Finger Death Punch

“You found out a ticket was purchased in Danielle’s name, but she never got on any of the buses last night?” I asked Hacker as he sat at the table looking pissed. He hated it when he couldn’t find something.

“Yeah. I’m telling you, I watched every second of video from the bus station. She wasn’t there.” He crossed his arms.

“Do you know who bought the ticket?” Soap asked.

“It was bought online after I’d checked everything the night it happened. Whoever paid for it used a VPN and paid with a bogus digital account funded by multiple deposits from various other digital accounts. None secured with an actual bank account. I’ve never reached so many dead ends in a search. It was intentional, and someone was seriously covering their tracks,” Hacker said with a deep frown.

“So it was likely an attempt to lead authorities away from here to make it look like Danielle left the area to go home to Phoenix?” Reaper asked as he tapped the table.

“That was my thought,” I said with a frustrated sigh.

We hashed out everything we knew—which wasn’t much.

Other than making sure everyone was updated on what had happened with Danielle and finding out someone bought a bullshit ticket, church hadn’t been overly productive.

It hadn’t given us any information we didn’t already have, and I’d regretted cutting my morning short with Hailey. Not that I could’ve made her stay, but it would’ve been fun trying to convince her. Nor did we have any leads on the supplier of Black Night.

It seemed like we ended the meeting with more questions than we started with. After everyone dispersed and got to work, I returned a call to Baker. I told him what Hacker found out about the ticket. Neither they nor the city cops had found that yet. He told me he didn’t have anything to add but would touch base with me later, then hung up.

“Goddamn it,” I cursed as I tossed my phone to my desk.

Figuring I might as well head over to the Shamrock a little early, I hopped on my bike and drove to Spirit Lake. It was summer, and with all the college kids at the lakes and the tourists, we were hopping. Except, without much to do in our area besides ice fish and snowmobile, the Shamrock was a busy place in the winter too.

Zena was my manager there, and she was able to handle most things pretty well, but I needed to sign the paychecks and I’d take the deposit to the bank for her. She’d been one of our dancers, but she’d reached an age where she thought she was too old to be on stage. I’d always liked her, and she had a good head on her shoulders, so it had been a no-brainer when old Tom retired to Florida and I needed a new manager.

She knew the girls, knew what to look for in new dancers, knew the Shamrock like the back of her hand, ran a tight ship, and had been there over ten years.

“Hey, gorgeous,” she called out as I let myself in the back door. She lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply before blowing a cloud above her head. I raised my brow at her bold audacity.

“Zena, you know there’s no smoking in here since they passed that ordinance.”

She smirked. “So fire me.”

I laughed. We had the same conversation every time I came over.

“I’m gonna sign the checks. I’m a little early, but I’ll take the deposit to the bank too,” I said. She nodded, and I followed her back to the office to sit at the desk. Once a week I came