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Shades snorts. “Literally any-fucking-body. Grace’s mother. Kelsey and Kenna’s parents. The families of all the dead women being pulled out of the harbor. Dealers he’s fucked over.”
I nod at Shades’ never-ending list. “Right, but who has the juice to lean on a biker, or fuck that, who has the stones to eventhinkabout bribing or threatening a probie into doing their dirty work?” I shake my head. “That list gets a hell of a lot shorter.” Still long as fuck, though.
“Wilder, start digging,” Ace commands. “I’ll be in the back if you find anything.” He walks off and stops at the doorway between the rooms and the bar. “Everybody else, I want some fucking answers.”
We all nod, the tension in the room so damn thick you could cut it with Dix’s big ass blade.
We all want some fucking answers.
Yesterday.
Chapter Three
Maven
Being in the kitchen is my safe space. The place where I can think without too many interruptions, where the world can’t get in my way. After everything I learned about Cyrus last night, I didn’t sleep well, tossing and turning—alone—in my bed during the hours I should have been sleeping.
I just can’t believe that Cyrus, sweet and gentle Cyrus, is part of a biker gang. Not just any biker gang, either, but the Iron Kings.
Those guys are ruthless, plowing over any and every person or group that stands in their way. I’m not too familiar with them but owning a bakery, you hear the stories. And thanks to Willow, I’ve learned more than I ever want to know about dead bodies in the water, kidnapping, torture, and bombings.
This isn’t what I signed up for when I agreed to go out with the handsome and polite car salesman. This kind of trouble is so far out of my comfort zone that my hands shake as I slowly alternate wet and dry ingredients to my award-winning Maven Cakes.
At least, I still have my bakery. And my cakes.
I know what I have to do but knowing it doesn’t make doing the deed any easier, especially considering his new connections.
“Morning, Maven. Sleep okay last night?” Willow breezes into the kitchen with a look of concern matching her worried tone. She stops on the other side of the table and starts preparing the cake pans I need to fill and pop in the oven before I get started on the morning best sellers. “Well?”
“No,” I finally answer. “I barely slept at all because I couldn’t stop thinking about Cyrus.”
She nods, again full of sympathy that I can barely stand. “Talk about a big fucking shock. Who knew that guy, of all people, was mixed up with the Iron Kings? I mean, I could see him as a weekend warrior type-biker, but the real deal? Doesn’t pass the smell test.”
I frown at her words. “What do you mean?” I ask, clearly grasping for straws.
“Just that he’s not the guy I peg as a badass. Bikers are tough guys, period. They know what to do when the shit hits the fan, and if they don’t, they’re good at improvising. It’s part of what makes them so hot. They’re just so fucking capable. I don’t get that vibe from Cyrus.”
“That Nogales guy is his brother-in-law.”
Willow nods. “Family shit. Nothing more toxic or complicated than that. What are you gonna do?”
“That’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question, isn’t it?” I know what I have to do but saying it out loud makes it real. Saying it out loud means I picked the wrong man. You’d think I’d know by now.
“Hey,” Willow snaps. “This isn’t on you, Maven. Not one fucking bit. He lied to you because he’s a piece of shit. That’s his problem, and it’s not on you. At all. Please tell me you know that.”
I nod. “I do know that, but I can’t help the letdown after thinking I’d met Mr. Right.”
“Yeah, well, guess what? All relationships fail until the one that doesn’t. It’s the nature of things, what makes it so damn scary and also so amazing.”
Her smile is sympathetic, and I know she means well, and the truth is that it’s making me feel a little better. “I’ll get the dining room set up for the breakfast rush and then come back.”
I nod and lose myself in croissants, muffins, biscuits, and cupcakes. All the big ticket items that fly off the shelf every morning. Today’s special is prosciutto and scrambled egg puff pastry rolls, and more than an hour later, that’s how Willow finds me. “Everything good?”
She nods. “The place is spotless, and the line is starting to form for those puff pastry rolls. I hope you wore your sneakers today, babe. We’re gonna be busy with a capital B.”
I smile at her and shake my head. “At least, business is going well.” Even if nothing else is.
Willow shrugs. “Every asshole loser puts you closer to findingthatguy, the one you didn’t realize you were looking for until you find him.”
