Page 37 of The Biker’s Guilty Pleasur

“No,” she said. “I don’t want you to get hurt. This is getting ridiculous.”

“I promise I’ll be safe. But I want you here where I know nothing will happen to you.” Reaper cupped her face and kissed her. “You’re everything.”

“But I need you here with me. So does Bob.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be back tonight to make you forget all your worries.”

“You promise? All of them?”

He kissed her again, trailing those kisses along her jaw to her neck. “I’ll make you forget your name,” he whispered in her ear.

Reluctantly he pulled away, slapping her on the ass to get her moving out of the yard.

Then he got back on his bike, waving Tarmac and Stump to follow.

They’d be making a visit to the coroner, and getting answers one way or another. Reaper had a way of getting men to talk, and tonight he was going to be very convincing.

The rumble of the Harleys was loud with the three of them side by side most of the way. They had the personal address of the coroner in the posh suburbs of the city. He had a nice setup, manicured lawns, and a winding stone driveway right to the door of his mansion. Nice place for a coroner.

“Coroner Bradshaw has some digs,” Stump said as they walked toward the entrance. “I’m in the wrong profession.”

“You’re in exactly the right place,” Reaper said. “Now, how about you get us inside.?

“Too easy.” Stump punched through the decorative glass door and unlocked it from the other side. Then he pushed it open and stepped inside the marble foyer.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Tarmac called out.

A minute later, a middle-aged man in a navy robe came down the stairs. “Who the hell are you? I’m calling the police.”

“No, you won’t be doing that.” Reaper charged over to him, slapping his phone out of his hand before he could use it, then grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to the parlor. He shoved him onto the sofa. The man looked wildly back and forth between the three of them.

“No one’s coming to save you,” Stump said.

“What do you want?”

“Do you remember Cathy Robinson?”

He didn’t answer.

“I know you do a lot of autopsies. This one would have been missing a finger.” Reaper grabbed the coroner’s hand for emphasis which made him panic.

“Yeah. What about it?”

“You said she died of an overdose. Remember that?”

He nodded.

Reaper reached out his arm and Stump put a pair of plyers in his hand. He forcibly grabbed one of the man’s fingers.

“No, please! I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

Reaper tutted. “That’s no fun for me. The night was just getting started.”

“Please, I beg you.”

“If you insist. But if you lie to me, there won’t be any second chances. There are three of us and we have nowhere else to be. Understand?”

He nodded rapidly, barely able to catch his breath.