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“All right,” Cora said with reluctance. “But just so you vigilantes know, I’m never going on a stakeout with either of you again.Ever.”
“Fine by me,” Liam said, digging through the grocery bag near his feet. “I’d rather till an acre of rocky soil with my bare hands than sit around like that again, anyway. Hey, where’s the tin of sugar biscuits?”
“In Magnus’s yard. Along with the last two cans of soda.” Cora took the exit ramp into Finn’s neighborhood, catching sight of Liam’s forlorn expression. She gave an indignant shrug. “What? It took me a few tries to hit the door.”
6
AN HOUR LATER, Cora flopped back on Finn’s couch and handed him Magnus’s cloned phone. “Take it. The ick factor is strong with that guy, and I’m too tired to read any more tonight.”
“If you want, I’ll keep monitoring it over the next few days,” Finn said. “I’ve taken time off work to pack for my upcoming move, so it won’t be hard for me to check it throughout the day.”
“That’s good, because I can’t risk taking it to the station. Captain Thompson would blow a gasket if he caught wind of what we were up to.” She yawned and checked the clock. It was well past midnight, and Liam had quit almost an hour ago to get some fresh air on the patio. Cora could see him through the sliding glass door stretched on a lawn chair fast asleep, and she couldn’t blame him. They’d all taken turns scrolling through Magnus’s text messages, email threads, and calendar—anything that could give them some insight into the stolen money or murder cases. So far, they’d found nothing.
“Magnus is bound to make contact with his accomplice at some point,” Finn said, setting the phone on the coffee table. He picked up the half-empty bottle of Pinot Grigio he’d opened for her earlier. “All we need is one small slipup, and we’ve got him. I don’t think we’ll have to wait long.”
“I hope you’re right,” Cora said with a sigh. “So far, I see no proof of questionable behavior. Not unless you count all the women he seems to be juggling.” It was a wonder he could keep them all straight. If she had to sift through one more text thread where Magnus and various women planned casual hookups, she was going to be ill. She tried not to remember how close she’d come to being one of them.
Finn held up the bottle of wine. “Cleanse the palate?”
“Please,” Cora said, holding out her glass. Granted, they’d been drinking for a few hours, and she was feeling a little blurry around the edges, but she welcomed the floaty sense of detachment. It was one thing to know Magnus was a creep and a womanizer, but to have to read through all those conversations that toed the line—and sometimes blew right past the line—between flirting and sexting? Well, there wasn’t enough wine in the entire state to make that go down easy.
“He’s just such a sleazeball,” she said after a generous sip.
Finn laughed wearily and propped his feet on the coffee table. “The understatement of the century.” He ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw, then reached for his beer. Tonight, he looked scruffier than usual, but still handsome in the dark jeans and the faded black hoodie he’d worn for the stakeout. There was something strangely intimate about seeing him so casual and relaxed, so at ease in his own home like this. Outside in the real world, Finn never seemed to let his guard down. Even when he’d fought that mountain of a man named Meat in the Booze Dogs’ illegal cage fight, he’d been calculating and focused, every action precisely measured. She knew him as Finley Walsh, the razor-sharp lawyer who battled in courtrooms and sipped cognac with state officials. She’d also seen him as the Jackrabbit, an underground cage fighting legend in a screaming crowd of bloodthirsty bikers. But right now, Cora felt like she was witnessing a secret side of Finn he rarely showed other people. Maybe this was the real man underneath everything else. Just a simple guy who liked to have beer and watch TV with a girl on a Friday night.
“Exactly how did you become mixed up with the Booze Dogs?” she asked. It was nosy, sure, but the drinks and exhaustion from the day’s events seemed to loosen her inhibitions. On any normal day, she’d probably approach the subject with more tact, but “normal” flew out the window the moment they’d skirted the law with that stakeout operation tonight. The two of them shared secrets now. In fact, she’d been keeping Finn’s secret ever since she’d discovered his involvement with the motorcycle club, so he owed her an explanation.
“My father,” Finn admitted after a pause. “He loved motorcycles, and he had this old chopper he was always tinkering with on the weekends in our garage. He and his buddy made a hobby out of helping each other with their bikes, and they started buying and selling parts as a side hustle from time to time. My dad would buy three bike parts, sell two, and use one on his own bike, that sort of thing. It wasn’t anything big, but he got a reputation for doing good work, and that’s how he got in with the Booze Dogs. Anyway, he did this for a few years, and it turned out one of his suppliers got busted for dealing in stolen parts. My dad was implicated because he was a regular buyer. We couldn’t afford a lawyer, so my dad ended up getting a public defender who suggested he make a plea deal.”
“But your dad wasn’t an accomplice,” Cora said, astonished. “He had no knowledge of the supplier’s crime.”
“No, he didn’t,” Finn said. “If I knew then what I know now, I could’ve helped him, but I was young, with no idea how the system worked. None of us knew, so my dad just took his attorney’s advice.”
“Well, it was crap advice.” Cora scowled. “They should’ve thrownhimin jail for being a disgrace to the profession.”
Finn’s mouth twitched at her outburst. “He believed my dad would just serve minimal time—maybe even get out early—and go on to live his life and put the past behind him. He thought it was my dad’s best option.” He paused for a few moments as if lost in thought, then added in a more somber tone, “Unfortunately, it didn’t work out that way. Shortly after he went to jail, my dad got killed trying to break up a fight between two inmates. With a shaved-down toothbrush, of all things. I couldn’t believe it when I first found out. My dad... He was this huge guy with a booming voice and the kind of larger-than-life personality that filled a room. He always seemed so strong to me. It was crazy to think that something so small and trivial could end his life.”
Cora’s heart ached with sadness. “I’m so sorry, Finn.” She hated the bleak look in his eyes, and she could barely imagine how horrible and helpless he must’ve felt as a young adult, powerless to save his father.
“It was a long time ago.” He finished off his beer and set it on the coffee table.
Cora could tell he wanted to change the subject, and she was happy to move on. “Did you meet the Booze Dogs because of your dad’s chopper hobby?”
“No.” He leaned over and poured the last of the Pinot Grigio into her glass.
She let him, even though she knew she was heading deep into tipsy territory. But it was so nice just to be able to unwind after such a long, stressful workweek, and Liam was right outside, so she didn’t have to drive. Besides, Finn’s couch was almost as comfortable as her bed back home. Yawning, she dragged a fuzzy throw blanket over her lap and snuggled deeper into the leather sofa cushions.
“After my dad died, my mom was really struggling to hold it together,” Finn said. “She tried to put on a brave face for me and my little sister, but things began to fall apart. She couldn’t make ends meet, and the bills began piling up. We couldn’t make rent. The fridge was bare more often than not. I remember being so angry all the time. I started hanging out with this rough group of kids, buying booze with our fake IDs, drinking and getting into fights. One night we ended up at the Rolling Log bar, and one of my friends dragged me into a fight. He started arguing with this huge tank of a guy. You’ve met him, actually.” Finn glanced at her in amusement. “Bear.”
Cora gaped. She’d met Bear at the gates of the motorcycle compound. He was yoked like an ox, with huge beefy arms and tree trunks for legs. Cora had never met anyone with a more appropriate name. The guy looked like he could fell a tree with a single swipe of his paw. “You tried to fightBear?”
“Triedbeing the operative word,” Finn said with a grimace. “My friend was a pretty scrawny guy, so he pulled me into the argument as backup. Next thing we knew, we were in a full-on brawl. It was Bear and three other bikers against just the two of us. My friend went down right away, and he stayed down, but—”
“Not you,” Cora guessed. “I’ve seen you fight.” She’d been shocked how fast and dexterous Finn had been on the night of the cage fight. He’d had to fight a man who was almost double his weight, but Finn had a way of dodging and leaping that seemed to defy gravity. It was no wonder they called him the Jackrabbit.
“Oh, I got knocked down, too,” Finn assured her. “Over and over. I didn’t know how to fight smart back then, but I was big enough that I could take a hit. I just kept getting back up. That surprised them. I held my own a lot longer than Eli expected me to, and that’s how it all started.”
“Figures Eli was there watching it all go down,” Cora said with distaste. Eli Shelton was the motorcycle club president, and a misogynistic creep. The last time Cora had been alone with him, he’d made a pass at her with his wife in the next room. “Was he as bad then as he is now?”
