"No," he admits. "It belongs to... my club."
A new piece of information. "Club?"
He gestures toward the coffee pot. "You might want some caffeine for this conversation."
I nod, moving to the kitchen area to pour myself a cup.
"There's food too," he adds. "If you're hungry."
My stomach answers with an embarrassing growl. I haven't eaten since that half-finished burger at lunch.
"I could eat," I acknowledge.
Sam rises smoothly and joins me in the kitchen, keeping a respectful distance as he opens the refrigerator. "Sandwich? Eggs? There's soup I could heat up."
"A sandwich is fine." The mundane conversation feels absurd given our circumstances, but I cling to it like a life raft of normalcy. "Who are you, really?" I ask as he places a plate in front of me.
He pauses, then sits across from me with a deep sigh. "I need to tell you something, and you're not going to like it."
I brace myself. "Go on."
"I wasn't hired by your landlord. I was sent by my MC, my motorcycle club. The Outlaw Order."
Everyone in this region knows about the Outlaw Order MC. They're infamous. Dangerous.
"You're an outlaw biker?" My voice rises with disbelief. This disciplined, precise ex-military man doesn't fit my image of a leather-wearing, hard-partying biker.
"I'm a prospect," he corrects. "Not a full member yet. Still proving myself."
"By what? Kidnapping witnesses?" I push back from the table, suddenly wanting distance between us.
"By protecting you," he counters calmly. "The club found out your witness protection was compromised. That the marshals assigned to protect you were working for the corrupt officials you're testifying against."
I shake my head, trying to process this information. "Why would a motorcycle club care about my testimony?"
"Because the land grab these officials are planning would push the Outlaw Order out of Pine Haven. It's our home."
Self-interest. Of course. "So, this isn't about justice or doing the right thing. It's about protecting your territory."
"For the club leadership? Maybe." He meets my eyes directly. "For me, it's both. I don't like corrupt officials abusing their power. I've seen what happens when people with authority use it to hurt those they should protect."
I remember his earlier comments about his military service, about following orders that got good men killed. There's genuine conviction in his voice.
"Why didn't you tell me the truth from the beginning?"
"Would you have trusted me if I had?" He raises an eyebrow. "If I'd walked into your bookstore and said 'Hi, I'm Knight from the Outlaw Order MC, and I'm here to protect you from your corrupt federal protection detail'?"
Knight. Not Sam.
"Knight?" I repeat. "That's your... what? Biker name?"
"Road name," he corrects. "But my real name is Samuel Davis. That wasn't a lie."
I take a bite of my sandwich to give myself time to think. "So, everything else was a lie."
"Not everything." He leans forward. "My military background is real. My desire to keep you alive is real."
"Why tell me now?"
