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“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Maybe she’s one of those ice bitches. Ice cold heart.
“Sorry, I’m being rude.” She slicks a palm over her hip, wiping the dust off her fingers onto her blue jeans. “I’m Stella.”
“Pretty name for a gorgeous woman. Did you know the person who lived here?”
“Ms. Mildred,” she says so low I almost don’t hear her.
“Friend of yours?”
“Yeah. She was like family. I knew she was getting up there in age, but I wasn’t ready to lose her.”
“I take it she passed unexpectedly. I’m sorry for your loss and to meet you under these circumstances.” I do my best to be polite. I hate that the woman who lived here croaked, but damn if I’m not happy at the same time since this puts me next door to this beautiful woman.
“Me too. Well, I need to get this done. I’m sure you’re ready to take over the apartment. Don’t worry, her cat didn’t piss all over the place or anything. She’s been well taken care of, and Ms. Mildred was a clean person. She had her apartment deep cleaned twice a month.”
I cap a palm over the back of my neck and lick my lips. “I still need to pack. You’ve got time. But I’m happy to help with the heavy lifting. I can call some of my friends. Tough guys.”
“Tough guys?” She laughs.
“Bikers.”
Her face falls. “I’m good. Thanks for the offer.”
“You got something against bikers,” I press.
“Not all.”
“Want to explain.”
“No. It was nice meeting you. I’m sure I’ll bump into you from time to time.”
“Right. Later.” I walk off but look back over my shoulder and find her staring after me, wearing a bewildered expression on her face.
My guess is she’s wondering if I’m a Royal Bastard and if I know who she is and the bullshit she’s been saying about us. Shit. If she’s digging into the club deeper than I thought, this will not end well.
Chapter Five
I shove the box of books back into the apartment and shut the door as the sound of a motorcycle roaring through the lot cuts through the silence. My heart pounds in my chest as I pull out my cell phone and open up the drive folder I have on the Royal Bastards and their members. I scan through the photos I have. The mugshots are from an online archive that stores arrest records. It cost me a pretty penny to purchase access. I don’t recall his name or face being here before, but that doesn’t mean he’s not here. Did they send him here as a warning? Do they know I know what they did to my sister?
This is what I wanted. To be loud. For my voice to be heard. For Shiloh’s killer to be brought to justice. So why do I have this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and why can’t I stop thinking about Trenton and his gorgeous smile? Or how sweet he seemed? And most of all, the way he flinched as though I’d slapped him when I visibly reacted to the fact that he’s a biker. I mean, he might have only meant that they ride. He wasn’t wearing one of their cuts.
Maybe I should have taken him up on the offer and pressed him for information about the Royal Bastards MC. Even if he’s not a member, he may know things about them. What’s that thing they say? Birds of a feather flock together or whatever. Scanning through more images and names, I don’t see him.
That doesn’t mean he’s not one of them.
An enemy.
He could have been the one to end her life for all I know.
My cell buzzes with a text from Bobby. One of my fellow murder club members.
Did you still need help?
Please. I could really use your truck to get these donations to the church.
Be there in ten.
You’re a life saver.
