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“Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket with all this good luck.”
“Ha. Maybe I should.”
“Just remember me if you win. You know, since it was my idea.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good. I’ve got my eyes on you. You know, in a neighborly non stalker way.”
Her lips twitch. “That’s exactly what a stalker would say.”
“Now how would you know unless you yourself are a stalker?”
“Touche. Ha. No. I have studied true crime enough to know the signs.”
“A girl who loves to research murder. How are you not snatched up and wifed up already?”
“How do you know I’m not?”
“Fair point.” Fuck me. I like this chick. A little too much.
“What garage are you with?”
“Munford’s. It’s painted on the side of the truck along with the phone number and website. Over forty years in business. All legit. I swear.”
“So not owned by Royal Bastards?”
“My stepfather is the current owner. He’s not a club member. My dad was.”
“But aren’t you?”
“I’m a prospect.”
“Hmm,” she muses.
“You have a bone to pick with the club or something?”
“They murdered my sister.”
“Who was your sister?”
She stares at me like I have two heads.
“Listen, babe. I don’t know if you don’t tell me. And one thing I do know about the club is they don’t touch women and children. Now a piece of shit who hurt someone they love. That might be a different story. One I can’t swear to, but whatever you think you know…” I shake my head. “You don’t have the first clue about these men or what they are about.”
“Her name was Shiloh and I know my sister never would have killed herself.”
It takes every ounce of control I have not to shatter her image of her sister and tell her the truth. Not yet anyway. Not until I can trust her and to do that, I need to spend more time with her. Time neither of us has. One thing I do know about Murder is that if he sees a job isn’t getting done to his satisfaction, he’ll personally step in.
He wouldn’t hurt Stella without reason, but if she does something to fuck with the club on a larger scale…then her safety is highly debatable.
“I knew your sister. Bi-.” I stop myself from calling her bitch. Respect for the dead, I guess. “Chick liked to party. Was into some heavy shit.”
“She was smarter than that.”
I lift my shoulder. “Maybe you didn’t know her as well as you thought.”
She stares out the window, thoughtful.
