Page 18 of Sweet Revenge for the Bikers

“Yeah. I really didn’t see anything. Maybe if I heard them speak it would help? They could’ve been the ones who jumped me, but I don’t know.”

“It’s too big a coincidence,” Rebel says. “I don’t like that the same club keeps popping up, and Emily says you seemed real scared when she showed you the picture last night.”

Eagle-eye grunts in agreement. “You think someone hurt her because she was seen with you.”

“I think it’s a real possibility. The whole shitstorm feels sloppy, but if someone was pissed at us, Melody could’ve looked like an easy target to take that anger out on.” Riptide runs his hand down my arm.

“I agree, but that doesn’t explain them going out of their way to find her later.”

“Maybe they wanted to make sure she couldn’t identify them,” Mad Dog suggests. “If that’s true, she might still be in danger.”

Eagle-eye nods. “Here’s my suggestion. Emily is happy to have her stay for now, and I probably don’t have to tell the three of you to keep an eye on her.” He fixes his one good eye on me. “This isn’t a vacation. One of my boys almost died last night, and another man’s growing cold in the morgue. If you remember anything, you tell Emily or your boys and they’ll make sure I hear it. Okay?”

“Okay.” All I can think about is the gun in the bottom of my backpack.

Did Dad put it in there? Or did someone slip it in when I was unconscious? I know the longer I hold back, the more it’s going to look like I’m trying to hide, but this might all be a big misunderstanding and I won’t know until I can talk to my father.

11

REBEL

“You got a job or someone waiting for you at home?” Riptide asks Melody when we get back down to the common room. “It might take a few days to sort this shit out.”

“I sent my boss a message this morning to let him know I need a few days off. And no, not really at home. I lived with my mom, but she died last year, so it’s just me in the house now. It would be nice to go home and grab some of my stuff, take out the trash so it’s not too gross, that kind of thing, but nobody’s going to call the cops and report me missing.” She stops, frowning a little in consideration. “I’ve never really thought about it but I don’t know how long it would take before someone even noticed I was gone. I live too far out of town for anyone to notice if the house starts looking rough. My dad maybe? But he sometimes drops off the face of the earth for months. Is that sad?”

“It’s different for us,” I explain. “This can be a risky life, so we’re expected to keep an eye on each other. It’s one of the reasons we end up living and working with the same couple brothers even though it’s a big fucking club. If Rip or Mad Dog fell off the grid, I’d probably notice something was wrong in less than a day.”

Mad Dog nods. “The whole club works like a team, but we’ve got well over a hundred people coming in and out of here on the regular and nobody’s taking attendance, you know? When new guys join up, they get thrown together until they settle into a team who can get along and work well together.”

“Working in teams makes it easier on everyone. We don’t have to wonder who we’re working with all the time, and the officers can give us assignments that work for our specific strengths.” I put my hands around her waist and tug her into my chest. Her hair smells like vanilla, and it makes me want to bury my nose in it while I bend her over something. “How about we stop talking about practical bullshit and have a good time before the next fucking shoe drops.”

Because if life has taught me anything, it’s that there’s always another fucking shoe, and it’s usually aimed at my head.

“Okay, fine. What do you guys do for fun around here?” Melody asks.

The three of us look at each other, and then at her.

She rolls her eyes. “If anyone says me, I’m going back to Emily’s.”

“Are you really?” I growl softly next to her ear.

She shivers, but I don’t think it's in fear. “Maybe. Ask me again later.”

“How about pool? You any good?” Mad Dog asks.

“It’s been a while since I played.” There’s a sparkle in her eye that I like the look of.

“Let’s fix that.” I sweep her off her feet, ignoring her squeak of outrage, and carry her to the table all the way in the corner. “Rip, grab a few beers.”

“It’s not even noon,” Melody says with a laugh, squirming enough that I put a hand on her ass to hold her still.

“Definitely noon somewhere,” Riptide calls out from behind the bar.

“The clubhouse is like an airport,” Mad Dog explains. “Time doesn’t mean shit in here unless you’re on duty.”

I softly deposit her onto a nearby couch and fish out the balls, racking them up while Mad Dog grabs the cues. He hands one to Melody. By the time Riptide comes over, we’re ready.

“Teams?” he suggests. “I’ll play with Melody and you two can keep each other company.”