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“And?”
“Rae saw his father kill Tom Battersley,” Maddie states. “She’s the reluctant witness the state needs to prosecute.”
I snap my eyes open and study the wary slip of a woman before me with new eyes. “Well, why the fuck didn’t you just say that then?”
3
RAE
I couldn’t exactly saywhat I expected to find when I walked into the Red River Reaper’s clubhouse, but I knew the clean, industrial lines of a well-kept communal living space were not it. I suppose–in some way–my brain made connections between everything I’ve seen on TV and read in articles about dark caves with the haziness of cigarette smoke and the smell of stale beer. Reckless men with little regard for their appearance and women beaten into submission.
Not a polished concrete floor, chesterfield sofas in a rich caramel brown, distressed timber side tables and sideboards the likes you find in high-end furniture stores, pendant lights suspended from long cables that wind through brass chains to the high ceiling above. A decadent Turkish rug in rich and regal reds and orange. A bar top made from a solid slab of marble.
These people sure know how to live.
The only sign this is, in fact, a biker’s hangout is the array of men and women dotted around the space. Leather vests displaying the club insignia, an array of T-shirts in black and shades of gray, denim, and a sprinkling of chains andembellishments worn either as an accessory on their clothing of choice or as jewelry.
Not to mention the enormous abstract mural that spans the long, lefthand wall, made from various motorcycle parts, scrap, and pieces of rough-hewn wood. It doesn’t appear to depict anything, but it’s commanding all the same.
I can’t stop staring at it.
“You okay?” Maddie loops her arm beneath mine, clutching it to her side. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but it’s?—”
“Beautiful,” I whisper.
From the weathered sheet iron exterior of the large warehouse, I expected dust motes and cold draughts. Not this. A goddamn fireplace roars from within an elaborate brick construction. It feels… homely.
“Don’t let first impressions fool you,” she says with a slight chuckle. “A lot of questionable shit still goes down within these walls.”
I have no doubt.I lock eyes with a man in roughly his late thirties or early forties. He sits reclined on one end of a Chesterfield, arm slung on the rolled side, a glass of amber liquid clutched in his thick fingers. Ink covers the majority of his body, including beneath the short hair on his shaven head. Large rings adorn three of his fingers, menacing in the way that they’re arranged like a knuckle-duster. He studies me from beneath a heavy brow, tongue peeking out to wet the corner of his lips.
A blonde woman lies sprawled across the rest of the sofa, her head in his lap. He absently strokes the hair from her face.
“Ignore Minion. He takes the measure of anyone new.” Maddie flashes the enormous man a smile. “It’s kind of his job.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s Daddy’s enforcer.” She rolls her eyes up as she chooses her next words. “Like, our version of the sheriff, courts, and jail all rolled into one.”
Explains the muscles straining his T-shirt and jeans, then.
The woman in his lap rolls from her back to her stomach, propping herself on both elbows to watch me pass by.
Maddie tugs me across to a sofa in a separate formation on the other side of the central fireplace, pushing me down onto one end. I glance around, searching for where her father and uncle went.
“You want a drink?” Mads asks, still standing.
I feel far too relaxed for someone who doesn’t belong here, especially when most of the eyes in the room are on me. “I’m okay.” Honestly feel as though I wouldn’t keep much down. “What happens now?”
She collapses onto the opposite end, the leather cushion creaking while she gets settled. “Daddy will get the officers together.” She nods to where the guy she called Minion rises from the seat—much to his partner’s frustration—and moves toward a door in the far corner. “They’ll talk about you and decide what to do.”
“Mads.” I press my fingertips to my brow, closing my eyes. “I didn’t want to be an inconvenience like this.”
She smiles wickedly. “Trust me. You’re not.”
The blonde from the sofa approaches, eyes shifting between my friend and me. “How was the date, Maddie?” She perches her trim figure on the arm of the sofa beside Mads, reaching down to toy with her hair.
Maddie sighs and then gives me a wink before answering. “He’s so fucking hot. Like, seriously.” The blonde grins. “We’re going to meet up again real soon. He’s sweet, too. You’d like him, Kasey.”
