“What’s that?”
“Rumors. Whispers.”
“I didn’t dip that guy in fryer oil. I don’t know what’s wrong with that town’s gossip phone tree, but things seriously get lost in translation,” I insisted.
His lips quirked again. “Not talkin’ about that. I’m talkin’ about Duncan Hugo still hangin’ around, plotting some pretty big moves.”
I blinked. “Hugo’s still here? But that would be…”
“Stupid?” Grim filled in. “Not necessarily. Not if everyone, including his father, thinks he skipped the country. Not if he’s so far underground no one’s seen him since he hightailed it out of that warehouse.”
“But why would he stay? Everyone from his father to the FBI are looking for him.”
“If you were him, why would you stick around?”
I chewed on my lip and ran through the scenarios. “Either I’m an idiot and I think this is all going to blow over or…”
“Or,” Grim repeated.
“Oh shit. Or I see this as my opportunity to take over the family business. If I can get rid of Daddy, I take his place on the throne.”
Grim nodded approvingly. “Smart girl. He doesn’t even have to go to war for it. He can just sit tight and wait for the feds to make their move. All he has to do is tie up a loose end here and there.”
I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “What kind of loose ends?”
“Nash Morgan.”
Crappity crap. I looked down at my watch, then winced.
“Can I borrow your phone?”
THIRTY-TWO
A COURTESY WARNING
Nash
Iwanted to punch something. Anything.
I glanced to my right. Knox was still wearing the fading remains of the shiner I’d given him. Lucian was on my left, legs braced, arms crossed. In all our years of friendship, I’d never thrown a punch at him. I’d also never seen him get physical. I knew he was capable of it. I’d seen the aftermath of it. But I’d never witnessed him in action.
These days, he preferred to unleash that pent-up boyhood fury in other ways.
But for me, I knew there was only one way to get this out of my system.
“Here they come,” Knox said.
The half circle of grizzled bikers in front of us parted as a bike roared into the lot. I recognized Grim immediately, but it was his passenger that had me curling my hands into fists.
The bike came to a stop directly in front of me. Lina released her arms from the biker’s waist and swung one long leg over in a graceful dismount.
She had barely pulled off the helmet before I was yanking her into my side, then pushing her behind my back.
“Nash—”
“Don’t start,” I ordered.
Knox, Lucian, and Nolan closed ranks, and together we formed a wall between her and Grim.
The seconds ticked by as I stared him down.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t arrest you right now,” I growled.
“Saved your girl from getting her ass kicked for one,” Grim said smugly.
The first check-in she’d missed had Nolan and me heading for my vehicle. We hadn’t even made it out of the parking lot before Grave alerted me to the 911 call in Arlington. I was on the road by the time Lina called me…from Grim’s phone.
Knox and Lucian showed up at the biker’s headquarters about five minutes after we did.
“Gentlemen, I hate to break up this thrilling staring contest,” Lina said. “But I really have to pee and Grim has information he’s graciously willing to share.”
“Let’s do this inside,” Grim said. “Except for him.” All eyes turned to Nolan. “One cop is bad enough. I don’t need two of you stinking up the place.”
Nolan didn’t look like he liked that idea.
“It’s fine,” I assured him.
“Don’t do anything stupid in there,” he muttered.
I nodded.
“So, boys and girls, what do we do while we wait? Shoot some hoops? Play some Scrabble?” Nolan asked the remaining bikers as we followed Grim inside.
Knox grabbed my arm. “Try not to be a law-abiding dick in there, okay? You don’t want Grim as an enemy.”
I jerked free of his grasp. “Try not to be an asshole in there.”
“Both of you behave,” Lina hissed.
I took her hand and anchored her to me. No one was getting near her.
I had to admit, this wasn’t what I’d expected from a motorcycle club headquarters. Instead of smoke-stained drywall and beer-soaked floors, the interior of the one-story block building resembled more of a club and gallery. The floors were stained concrete. The walls alternated between stark white and dark gray with large, chaotic canvases adding brilliant pops of color.
Grim pointed Lina in the direction of the restroom and I stood guard outside while the others entered what appeared to be some sort of conference room.
When the bathroom door opened and Lina stepped out, I straightened away from the wall.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I swear. Grim and his biker minions are actually pretty nice. And before you even say it, none of this was my fault.”
Every time I looked at her, her beauty struck me like a hammer. Every time my eyes found her, something inside me lit up. I wanted to touch her, to back her into the wall, cage her in, and run my hands over every inch of her body. But if I did that, I didn’t know if I would have the strength to stop. So I kept my hands at my sides.
“Nash?” she prodded.
“I know,” I said.
She went still, then shook her head in disbelief. “You know? What do you know?”
I gritted my teeth. “That it wasn’t your fault.”
“Gonna be honest. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m fuckin’ happy about you being in that situation in the first place. Even though I get to say I told you so. Because I fucking told you so. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean I enjoyed having no fuckin’ clue what happened to you after you called 911. And you can bet every expensive pair of shoes you own that I was the opposite of thrilled to find you were pulled out of that situation by men in ski masks.”
“Actually, the driver was a woman,” she pointed out.
But I wasn’t finished. “And I’m definitely havin’ issues with seeing you ride up to a goddamn motorcycle club on the back of a goddamn known criminal’s bike.”
“Look at the bright side, hotshot. Remember how you hated the numbness? Look at the colorful range of emotions you’re experiencing right now.”
I started to rub my thumb between my eyebrows, then stopped. “Think I wanna go back to numb.”
“No, you don’t.” Her soft smile disappeared and her eyes went serious. “You need to hear Grim out. I called you for a reason.”
She’d called me this time. And that counted for something.
“I’ll hear him out, but I can’t guarantee I won’t take a swing at him or slap cuffs on him.”
“Pretty sure a motorcycle club president willingly inviting an officer of the law into his lair is a big deal. Maybe leave the cuffs out of it,” she suggested.
We found the others in what was indeed a conference room seated at a long wood table with raw edges and black metal legs.