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“That isn’t an answer,” Riot challenged.

“It’s the only answer that matters tonight,” Mayhem mumbled around a yawn. Riot couldn’t argue with that. Delaney needed safety, not two bikers discussing their attraction to her while she slept a few feet away. But eventually, she would heal. Eventually, the fear in her eyes would fade, and she would decide whether she wanted to remain at the Madhouse or leave. When that happened, Riot intended to make sure Mayhem didn’t decide for all three of them that wanting too much was a good reason to walk away.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Monster appeared at the end of the hallway with three mugs of coffee balanced in his hands. “Morning, assholes.”

Riot checked his phone. It was barely five. “That’s offensive,” he said. “The sun isn’t even up.”

Monster handed him a mug. “Neither of you slept.”

“Neither did you, apparently,” Riot said.

“I went home, Drifter and I slept with our wife between us, and came back feeling refreshed,” Monster said.

“Show-off,” Riot grumbled.

Monster gave the third mug to Mayhem. “Anything?”

“Couple of nightmares,” Mayhem answered. “She hasn’t left the room.”

“Doc checked on her?” Monster asked.

“About an hour ago,” Mayhem said.

Monster nodded before looking at Riot. “Come downstairs. We found something.” Mayhem immediately stood. “I was talking to Riot.”

“And I’m coming with him,” Mayhem insisted.

“Someone needs to stay here,” Monster said. He sighed. “I’ll send a prospect.”

“No prospects,” Mayhem said. Monster lifted an eyebrow. Few men challenged the club president so openly.

Riot took pity on both of them. “I’ll go. You stay with Delaney.” Mayhem looked toward the closed door. Riot caught the brief flash of conflict in his expression. Mayhem wanted to be part of the investigation, but he didn’t want Delaney waking alone. That told Riot everything he needed to know. “I’ll tell you what we find,” Riot promised. Mayhem nodded, and Riot followed Monster downstairs.

The clubhouse had quieted after the previous night’s party. Empty bottles and plastic cups covered the tables. Larry, the skeleton prospect, was lying face down beside the pool table with his bony hand wrapped around a bottle of tequila.

Riot pointed at him. “Someone needs to put that man in rehab.”

Monster continued toward the meeting room. “Blitz threatened to throw him in the fire pit and light him on fire.”

“She wouldn’t,” Riot breathed.

“She put Christmas lights on a human skull last year,” Monster fondly remembered.

“Good point,” Riot grumbled. Monster’s woman could be terrifying when she wanted to be. Monster pushed through the meeting-room door. The club’s new hacker, Mouse, sat at the table surrounded by three laptops. He joined the club last year when Ghost convinced him to patch over from another club. As the club’s new hacker, Mouse could find information hidden so deeply that most government agencies wouldn’t know where to begin looking. His technical abilities were excellent even if his personality was intolerable.

“You’re late,” Mouse said.

“You called me in here three minutes ago,” Riot grumbled.

“I found what you wanted four minutes ago,” Mouse challenged.

Riot sat across from him. “What do you have?” Mouse turned one of the laptops around, and a grainy image showed the black SUV passing through an intersection approximately fifteen miles from the clubhouse. Riot recognized it from Mayhem’s description.

“I pulled footage from traffic cameras, businesses, and private security systems along Route Nine,” Mouse explained. “The SUV appears here at eleven forty-three.”

“Can you read the plate?” Riot asked.

“Already did.” A registration appeared on the screen. The vehicle belonged to Alistair Voss.