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His most striking feature I don’t see until he turns to us. A mismatched pair of eyes stare us down. One razor sharp and staring right into my soul, the other pale and obviously blind. Its milky center follows the motions of the good eye, and it's downright eerie. It's like how I'd imagine a fortune teller in a fantasy novel. He must know how it looks, so I'm pretty sure not wearing an eye patch is a very conscious choice.
“So you're Harper. Is it Mesner? Or Simmons?”
“Um, Simmons.” I press myself into Thunder for support. He rests his arm over my shoulder.
When his gaze lifts from me to pass over my bikers, it's like a physical weight has been lifted. “You can’t keep her. You know that, right?” What's he mean?
Shadow shrugs.
“Jesus fucking Christ. Alright, lay it on me. I've told Mesner’s people to go fuck themselves, but they’re not going to let it go if they figure out we’ve got his fucking daughter. I think I liked it better when they couldn't figure out how to pick up a damn phone. Now, I don’t give a shit about his threats. He’s got muscle but we’ve got a fucking army, but I could do without a fucking war against some Las Vegas gangster if it's avoidable. The shit of it is, I don’t fucking blame him. We wiped the Vipers off the fucking planet when they messed with Faith. So tell me, boys, what's the real deal?”
Thunder steps forward. “Honest truth, Prez. We didn’t fucking take her. She begged to come with us. Ask her yourself. Mesner was using her for shit of his own, and when we ran into her, she fucking jumped at the chance to bail. Now he’s got her fucking mom, and we’ve got a cop riding our asses because he wants Mesner.”
Eagle-eye's glare falls back on me with all the weight that entails. “And what do you say, Harper?”
“Me?” I'm feeling so out of my depth here.
“Yeah. You. Everyone out, except Harper.”
“Prez—”
“Out! I want to hear what the fuck she has to say without you looming over her fucking shoulder. Now fuck off. I'll call you back up when we're done.”
24
HARPER
Eagle-eye stares down at me with those terrifying eyes. I must look scared out of my wits.
I am scared out of my wits.
He grunts, sounding very annoyed, but then turns away to sit down behind the big desk in his office. He gestures at one of the chairs. “Get comfortable. I'm asking you questions, but it's not a fucking interrogation.”
“Yes, sir.”
His office looks like a well-used space. The desk is covered with paperwork and random things like what I’m assuming is a motorcycle part. There's a big board behind him full of pinned papers, and a couple of file cabinets are up against one of the walls. On the opposite wall is a big map of the city, full of markings, and the rug is clearly worn from countless boots. It wouldn’t look out of place in any blue collar business. There're also photos on the desk, one of the woman I saw earlier, and another of a woman a few years older than me. He said he had a daughter. I bet that's her. She's looking right into the camera, and I think she inherited her sharp gaze from her father. And then there are three pictures of a little girl who can't be more than a year old, with bright bows in her hair and huge smiles on her face. A granddaughter?
I don't know if it makes me any less scared of him, but at least it makes him seem more human.
There's a rustling sound from behind the desk, and suddenly a sleepy canine head pops out, looking at me curiously. A lanky boxer stretches with a huge yawn and trots over, its tail wagging slightly. I hold out my hand to let it take a sniff. “Hey there.”
“That’s Jupiter. Don’t pay him too much attention or you’ll never get rid of him. Come to think of it, the same goes for most of the guys in this place.” His voice is gruff, but it’s hard to believe that anyone who loves their dog and has pictures of their grandkid on their desk is evil. No matter how much they look like they could put a curse on my entire family.
Not that he’d have to. We pretty much seem to already have one.
I focus on scratching behind Jupiter’s ears instead of looking directly at Eagle-eye. It makes it easier to talk. “So what did you want to know?”
“Just to get it out of the way,” he says, easing his heavy leather chair back a little as his steel-gray eye bores into me. “I trust my guys. They’re tough bastards, but solid. A lot of people wouldn’t agree, but they’d be wrong. So I’ll listen to you, but you need to know where my loyalty lies. They reason I kicked them out was because I wanna hear the story from your fucking mouth. They’ve been there and done their job. As far as I’m concerned, the Screaming Eagles’ business with Mesner is done.”
