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That was just like Lou.
Innocent or guilty, people were expendable. He didn’t give a shit about anyone outside of the club.
“Then Roach will have done God knows what to her for no reason at all!”
“Oh well – my bad,” Lou said flippantly.
“You fucking – ”
“She’s not innocent, Jack. She’s a fuckin’ mole.”
“YOU HAVE NO PROOF!”
“Well that’s what we’re about to get.”
13
Fiona
Isquinted into the light until my eyes started to adjust.
But I still couldn’t make out much. My interrogator was holding the flashlight in front of him, and everything behind it was shrouded in darkness.
“What’s a private investigator doing sleeping with the head of the Midnight Riders motorcycle club?” the man’s voice asked.
Stall.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.
“Which part – the sleeping with, or the private investigator part?”
Something was weird about the question.
Actually, a couple of things were weird about the question.
It took me a second to figure out what they were.
“You’re such a gentleman,” I said with light sarcasm. “‘Sleeping with’ is so much nicer than ‘fucking.’”
“Answer the question.”
If this guy had been one of Lou’s flunkies, he would have said ‘fucking,’ not ‘sleeping with.’ And probably called me a slut or a whore to boot.
And he wouldn’t call it the ‘Midnight Riders motorcycle club.’
He would have said ‘Midnight Riders MC’ or simply ‘Midnight Riders.’
Or just ‘fucking Jack.’
My intruder was distancing himself…
He wasn’t one of the brothers.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I’ll ask the questions. What’s a private investigator doing in Richards, California?”
“I’m not a private investigator.”
