Free The Handler (Noir et Bleu Motorcycle Club #2) by D. R. Graham Page A

meeting. Excuse us, Cain.”
    I made eye contact with her for a second, then chuckled. “I’m glad we’re cool,” I mumbled as I moved to sit at the table right beside them. A waiter brought over our salmons and asked Gayle what she wanted.
    The meeting was still going on two hours later. Lincoln looked over at me frequently, but I pretended not to notice in order to keep the relationship professional. Each time someone came over to ask for an autograph, I stepped in and told them she was working. While I sat staring out the window, two bikers wearing full patch cuts from the Boomslangs motorcycle club pulled up in front of the sports bar across the street. They unassed and lit cigarettes. The one guy appeared to be about my height, just over six feet. His hair was long and blond. He had a braided beard and a tattoo that ran up the right side of his neck. The other guy was shorter and had a big gut.
    Neither was the one I was looking for. I watched them disappear into the bar and noticed the twenty other bikes parked along the side of the building. That many Boomslangs in one place meant there was a good chance the third guy might show his face. The Noir et Bleu, who had eyes everywhere, would likely be making their presence known. I needed to get Lincoln out of the vicinity in case something erupted.
    I stood and clasped Lincoln’s elbow to make her stand. “Sorry, Gayle. We have to go.”
    “We’re not done,” Lincoln said with indignation.
    “Yeah, you are.” I dropped cash on the table, then clutched her arm tightly to guide her toward the door. We stepped out under the awning, and people pushed to get close to Lincoln. I strained to see over the crowd of heads. Flashes from cameras went off and created a disorienting strobe effect. “Where’s the SUV?” I asked and pulled her by the hand toward the curb.
    “I have to text the driver.” She typed on her phone with one hand.
    I shoved a few fans who jostled her. “Tell him to hurry.” A flash went off right in my face and temporarily blinded me. Lincoln got bumped off balance and screamed. I lunged toward her and tucked her into my chest. “Back off!” I yelled and pushed the photographers to give us some room. It was claustrophobic, and the strobes disoriented me.
    It seemed to be taking forever for the driver to show up, and a nauseous feeling bubbled up in my gut when I felt the vibration in my feet. Windows rattled and car alarms went off. I knew right away that it was the sound of more Harleys coming. Everyone else paused and turned to figure out what was causing the rumbling sound. I took advantage of their distraction to weave Lincoln through the crowd and down the sidewalk. Twenty bikers riding together rolled down the street. There wasn’t one person on the sidewalk who didn’t turn to look. Little kids pressed their hands against their ears. The reverberation of the engines bounced around in my chest and drowned out my heartbeat.
    Even if the member I’d been searching for was with the approaching group of bikers, there was nothing I could do about it. Especially not with Lincoln right next to me. My urgency to get her out of the situation ramped up to a panic level. Lincoln watched as the bikes slowed and parked in front of the bar. Then she spun and looked at me.
    The SUV pulled up to the curb and nearly hit us. I swung the back door open and jumped in after her. “Go,” I said to the driver and checked over my shoulder.
    Lincoln studied my expression. “Those guys had different patches on their jackets than your roommates.”
    I raised my left eyebrow and sat back against the leather seat, relieved that we got out of there, but still tense. Skipping town was definitely necessary if she and I were going to be hanging out together. I didn’t want them anywhere near her. “Did they?”
    “Yes. Who are the Boomslangs? Do you know them?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    Not buying the lie, she frowned and spun around to peer out the back