Page 116 of Property of Whiskey

Amos sees it and starts forward.

I block the doorway.

“What’s back there?”

“Bedrooms.”

“Move.”

“No. Got a woman back there I’m fixin’ to fuck. You think Twila would be in my bed waiting for me?”

His face changes.

“Got a warrant?”

“I can get one.”

“Then get one.”

“Why’re you protecting Pearly Gates?”

That’s rich. “Who says I am?”

“Every damn road I follow ends with one of your club brothers standing in it.”

“Maybe you’re on the wrong road.”

“Maybe I ought to arrest every King in Hell and see who starts talking.”

“Need charges.”

“I’ll find some.”

“Probably.”

He leans closer, close enough that I can see exhaustion beneath the anger.

“If you know where my daughter is, tell me.”

I think about Twila ten yards away.

Free. Uncuffed. My bedroom door unlocked.

One shout and Amos would know exactly where she is. The house is quiet enough that I’d hear the floor creak if she moved toward him.

It doesn’t.

She doesn’t make a sound.

“I know where your daughter wants to be,” I say.

His eyes narrow.

“That ain’t what I asked.”

“No.”

“What the hell does that mean?”