Page 17 of Property of Quake

Jason, the oldest of the group at twelve, grins. “That’s, like, a gang, right? You do drugs and kill people and shoot guns, right?”

My breath catches in my throat, and I realize I want to know the answer.

“We do a lot of things as a club,” Quake begins. “For example, we work with the zoo to make sure the animals have everything they need, and we do fundraisers for people who are less fortunate than we are.”

“Like us?” Josh, who’s nine, asks.

Quake ruffles his hair. “Yeah, bud, like you.”

It’s not lost on me that he doesn’t actually answer the boy’s question.

“Why don’t the three of you see if you can find Sister Mary Jane? She can get you a quick snack.”

The mention of food is all it takes for them to rush from the room. When we’re alone again, Quake stands and turns to face me.

“You didn’t answer Jason’s question,” I blurt.

He narrows his eyes. “How do you figure?”

“He asked about drugs, guns, and murder.”

“I know.”

“And all you told him was that you do charity work.”

Quake steps toward me, his expression hardening. “Why don’t you just spit it out, Sister?” he sneers.

“S-spit what out?”

He takes another step, then leans down so he’s inches from my face. His scent, leather and something dangerous, invades my senses. Not only is this man large and looming, he’s also the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and he smells incredible.

Jesus help me.

“What you really think of me.”

5

QUAKE

Sister Emiliani is practically trembling under my scrutiny, and her reaction is feeding the bastard in me. She licks her lips, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the faint sheen left by her tongue.

“I…” She swallows nervously. “I don’t know much about motorcycle gangs.”

“Club,” I say. “We’re a club, not a gang.”

“Okay. And the other stuff?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think,” she says. “That’s why I’m asking.”

Needing to put some distance between us, I turn and begin to pace. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” I admit.

“I’d like the truth.”

“Fine.” I stop when I’m standing in front of her again. “Here’s the fucking truth. Yes, drugs and guns are part of what we do, at least as far as selling them. I smoke weed on occasion, but I don’t touch the harder stuff. Never saw the point.” Fear enters her eyes as I continue. “Yes, we’ve killed people. I’ve killed people. But we’re not murderers.”

“I see.”