Free Oliver (Inked Menace MC 2) by Ryanne Hawk Page A

burner from his front pocket, and dialed.
    “Flip. It’s Hammer. We have a problem.”

11 Chapter Eleven
    Amara jerked awake. As she opened bleary eyes, she inhaled, testing the scents out of instinct, even though her animal whispered that they were safe. Amara didn’t trust in anything she couldn’t see for herself, not anymore.
    She was in a room, lying on a bed. Oliver smiled and stretched in the chair by the bed. “Want some water?”
    She nodded, mindful of the pounding in her head, and licked her lips with a dry tongue. Oliver stood and brought her a glass.
    “Drink it slowly. Don’t want you to throw up.”
    The water tasted like heaven. She sipped and let the liquid coat her mouth and throat. When she’d drank half the glass, she sat up gingerly and leaned back against the padded floral headboard.
    “It looks like Martha Stewart threw up in here,” she croaked, her throat singed from smoke inhalation, most likely. “How long have I been out?”
    “A few hours. Pat and your sister are in the other room making calls.”
    “Do we know anything yet?”
    Oliver shook his head and parked his ass at the edge of the bed, stroking her foot absently. “Nothing concrete.”
    “Wasn’t expecting to get blown up today,” she said. “Fucking wankers.”
    A rumbling chuckle shook the bed. Once the laughter died down, Oliver said, “How’s your head?”
    Amara reached up and touched the pads of her fingers to her temples. “Wonky. I’m a bit knackered.”
    Concern marked his face in lines across his forehead.
    The door swung open and Maura filled the doorway with her hands on her hips, a dishtowel thrown over her shoulder. “Thought I heard your cheery voice. How do you feel?”
    “I’ve lost the plot.”
    Oliver sputtered on his water and said, “I’m sure you’ll find it?”
    Maura laughed. “No, you half-wit, she means she’s gone crazy.”
    “Oh.” His adorable face scrunched up. “Why didn’t she just say that?”
    “Hello? I’m right here, buggers.”
    “It’s like listening to my favorite music, only the lyrics are insulting me.” He shook his head. “I’m going to get some air, talk with Hammer and see if we know anything.”
    He left and shut the door behind him. Maura strolled to the bed and glanced down at her. She looked tired.
    “Rough night?”
    A ghost of a smile crested across her face. “You could say that.” Her eyes flickered from gold to green and back to gold as she fought to get her emotions under control.
    “Was the bomb from LexCorp or is there some other crazy fucker trying to kill us?”
    Amara winced at a particular heavy throb settling behind her eyes. “Can you cut the lights? They’re murder on my head.”
    Maura turned and hit the switch by the door, bathing the room in a soft evening glow. “Where are we?”
    “Flip had a friend in the city with an empty duplex.” She shrugged. “So, here we are.”
    “Convenient.”
    “He’s practical, though he doesn’t talk much, and he knows a lot of people with useful connections.”
    “I can see that. Anyway. So, what’s your theory? I know you and Patrick are working on one.”
    She sighed and perched an ass cheek on the dresser by the bed. “We haven’t ruled anything out.”
    “What’s going on with the Gaver?”
    “The explosion’s all over the news, but so far, they have no leads. The van isn’t registered to any of us, the VIN’s been wiped, and I doubt there are any prints left. The police won’t have a reason to come knocking on our doors.”
    Amara blew out a breath. “Only your club knew our destination, and the prospect drove the van. There aren’t many other options.”
    “Yeah,” Maura said and clenched her teeth together. “But I don’t think Marcus could be bought. He’s been with us for six months.” She stared at a picture strung up on the wall, and Amara noted the lovely beach scene, so at odds with the big city lights and sounds outside. “Have you decided on Oliver,