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I’m sorting through the paperwork scattered around the computer desk at Bear’s, trying to organize it and pick out anything related to the organization to pack up for move-in day tomorrow. This afternoon, I’m going with Bear to sign a six-month lease.
I urged him to ask for at least a year, but Bear’s still not convinced that this idea of his is going to be a huge success. I am, and I can’t wait to prove it to him.
When I come across a plain manilla folder with no writing on the outside or the tab, I open it to see if it’s related to the nonprofit or not.
Inside are the mug shots of the kidnapper, whose name was apparently Calvin Dockery. His criminal record is several pages long and lists all sorts of horrible crimes.
The date stamp printed at the bottom of a page catches my eye.
My father’s ancient computer at the clubhouse still prints thedate on the footer because he can’t figure out how to get rid of it and won’t let me show him.
It’s not surprising that my father gave Bear the information on the Dockery guy so he would know who to look out for.
What’s unusual is that the date on it is two months ago, right after my sister’s wedding, after the first time I thought I saw him.
How long has Bear had this information? Just because it was printed back then doesn’t mean he received it that day.
I flip to the last page and find a handwritten note at the top of the Department of Corrections information page. It’s sloppy like my father’s, and it takes me a while to figure out that it says, “Keep her safe or it’s open season on the Savage Kings.”
“You ready to go sign the papers?” Bear asks, fresh out of the shower.
“Ah, yeah, I was just getting all the BNB docs together. What is this exactly?” I close the Dockery folder and hand it to him.
He opens it, frowns, then tosses it down on the desk. “Why were you snooping around in my things?”
“I wasn’t snooping. I was looking for any Bruised Not Broken paperwork and found that one with no labels.”
“So you just decided to read it?”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Barrett’s face look so indignant. Especially over something so minor. He’s been happy to have me in every inch of his business the past month.
“Will you please answer my question? It doesn’t matter how or where I found it. You’re being evasive. I want you to tell me what it is.”
Barrett runs his fingers through the front of his hair and lets out a sigh. “Your father gave it to me.”
“I know he did. I recognized his handwritten note. When did he give you information about that man? Why didn’t you tell me his name or about his awful criminal record?”
“I don’t know, Ly. Isaac gave it to me sometime after Thane gotshot so I would know what the fucker looks like and how dangerous he is.”
“You mean the guy from a rival MC?”
“Yes.”
“There’s no mention of any club affiliations on his Department of Corrections record.”
“They must have missed it.”
“Did they, Barrett? Because I’m starting to think that was all a lie. The man in that file had been in prison for two decades, so I don’t think he was part of a rival MC. And what did my dad’s comment about keeping me safe or ‘open season on the Savage Kings’ mean?”
When he doesn’t respond, I cross my arms over my chest, starting to get pissed. “Either tell me the truth right now, or I’m leaving.”
“Can we talk about this later? We need to go sign the lease.”
“No. Tell me now, Barrett. Last chance.”
“I…” He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “I’m sorry. I can’t, baby.”
“What do you mean you can’t?”
