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A flash of amusement crossed his divine features, and I could feel myself getting agitated.
“But you want to know my biggest concern, Jack?” I swallowed, trying to clear the lump in my throat. I was feeling brave, and my earlier fears of getting caught snooping were gone.
“Mh-hmm,” this man and his mumbling.
“What the hell did you do to my uncle?”
“Why do you think I did something to him?” I couldn’t believe he’d ask me that. If he wasn’t my Uncle Jack, the obvious answer was that he did something to him. He was pretending to be him, for God’s sake.
“Ok, I’ll level with you.” I began. “My uncle is the key to getting everything owed to me. And without him, the door I need to open will stay shut and locked.”
I was being purposefully vague. If he’d murdered my uncle, he wouldn’t hesitate to murder me, especially when he found out I had billions waiting for me back in Connecticut.
“I’m not sure why you think I have any of the answers you seek.” This was going to take some convincing.
“Just be honest with me. I’ll make it worth your while.” What are you doing? Don’t give away too much, Dahl. Don’t be stupid.
“You already have.” He leaned forward, mirroring my pose, and ran his hand through his hair again.
“Excuse me?” I asked, more than a little confused.
“Breakfast was great.” He stood. “Thank you.” And then he turned and stalked out the front door without another word.
What the hell just happened? Why isn’t he telling me what I need to know? Argh! This beautiful, striking mammoth of a man was so infuriating. I grabbed my roots with my fingertips, trying to stave off a sudden headache. But then I had a thought. My eyes landed on the black backpack he’d set down before we ate, and I jumped up. I stalked to it and bent to pick it up. I peered out the window to see if he was likely to return anytime soon, and when I was convinced, he wasn’t, I unzipped the bag.
Inside was a black zip-up hoodie, a pair of black leather gloves, and…
And…my eyes went wide in complete and utter shock.
Oh my God, my mouth dropped open, and I had to cover it to keep from screaming. I dropped the bag as if it had burnt me and stomped outside. Even though I was frightened, my arms and face covered in a thin veil of sweat, I would confront him. And although I didn’t know this man and was afraid, somehow, I just knew. He wouldn’t hurt me.
He stood next to a large motorcycle I hadn’t noticed in the driveway yesterday, and I had to do a double-take because it was huge. It was onyx and silver, with a red skull painted on the side of the rounded part of the bike just under the handlebars. He turned as I blasted out of the house, and I noticed he’d put on a leather jacket, without sleeves, over his flannel. The same skull painted on his motorcycle was also sewn into the leather of his jacket. Above the skull, the words Redwood were stitched in perfect red letters, and the words Reapers MC were underneath in the same perfect scroll. I was no fool, but I had to admit it wasn’t every day I ran into badass bikers in Connecticut. And I’d seen the movies and TV shows. Bikers were notorious for being criminals, and suddenly, what I’d seen in the backpack made sense.
He glanced at me, the same air of amusement on his face from before, and I decided then this man was more than trouble. He was dangerous. For more reasons than the obvious, you know—the criminal part. I could feel the blood rushing through my veins, which pulsed in my ears as I stood and stared at him.
“You asked who I am?” I could only nod.
“I’m not someone you should want to know.” He fumbled with a pair of black leather gloves like the ones I saw in the backpack.
I took two steps down, getting closer to him. “I just want to know what happened to my uncle,” I begged.
I suddenly became aware that my demeanor had changed now that I had confirmation, he wasn’t my Uncle Jack. I always knew this; he told me yesterday out the gate that he didn’t have a sister, but the brain will play tricks on you.
“Who are you?” I raised my palms to the sky out to my sides as my voice abandoned all authority.
He looked at the gloves in his hands before his gold-flecked eyes returned my gaze.
“Cody,” he said, and my heart pounded an erratic rhythm at the sound of his name leaving his lips. “My name is Cody.” He slipped one glove on, flexing his fingers to ensure it was on well before doing the same with the other.
“And your uncle is buried back in those trees.” Cody pointed to the wooded area behind the house, and my heart sank.
“I didn’t kill him.” He started, and I put my palm against my chest and tried to calm down.
Our gazes stayed locked until he buckled a helmet onto his head and climbed onto his bike. And without any parting words, he jumpstarted his motorcycle and peeled out of the driveway.
CHAPTER 5
I paced in front of the fireplace, looking back and forth at the backpack on the floor while I ate away the cuticle on my nails. After all the chewing I’d been doing on my fingertips, my manicure was officially ruined. Cody hadn’t returned, and I wasn’t sure why that bothered me so greatly, but it did. When I’d looked in the backpack earlier, I never thought I’d find what I did: a sleek black handgun, a stack of cash, and a black ski mask. Cody was obviously up to no good, and those items in the bag confirmed that. So why was I still here, waiting for him to return?
