She didn’t finish the thought.
“Fuck it, one drink.”
I smiled as she walked back over. Her eyes were still downcast, more likely from a bad day than from a lack of confidence, but I’d gotten what I wanted, so the rest would come. The very fact that she knew my angle made it all the better, honestly.
“Don’t get any funny ideas, Lane,” she said. “I’ve had a shitty day, and I’m only doing this because if I don’t drink, I’ll go crazy.”
“You and me both,” I said with a smirk, though my tone softened as I followed her, and I noticed that she wasn’t kidding about how bad of a day it was. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“With you? Not really.”
“Then why are you still here?”
The question seemed to catch Angela off-guard, who hesitated and stared into space for a few seconds. I leaned forward on my barstool, patiently waiting to hear her answer. This was really one of genuine curiosity.
“I’m wondering the same thing,” Angela said. “I suppose it has something to do with the fact that there’s not a lot of people I can talk to about my work. I shouldn’t with you, you’re someone I want to have arrested.”
I laughed. I mean, really, how could I not? I’d said some pretty bold things in my life, but that had to take the cake for one of the boldest things I had ever heard in my life.
“That’s awfully direct of you,” I said. “But you don’t have anything to arrest me on.”
Angela rolled her eyes.
“Stop,” I said, knowing what she was referring to. “Just... stop. Please? I know this isn’t the jury room or your office, but I know what you mean. And... no, I didn’t do it.”
I sighed as we both stared straight ahead at the screen, our eyes directed at the sports highlights, but neither of us really watching it. I wasn’t really sure what to think at that moment. Why was she still there if she distrusted me to the point of not wanting to share things? Why—
“My boss yelled at me for not working hard enough to remove the Fallen Saints,” she said.
I peered around her. The Saint nearby hadn’t heard her. I motioned for her to keep her voice down. She didn’t react to my gesture, but she seemed to catch the hint by how her voice dropped a bit.
“One of the first assignments she gave me was to clean up the drug trading going on in this city. Much of it, apparently, is because of the Saints. It seems like a worthy cause, but... ”
“It’s not why you’re here,” I said.
She nodded, taking a sip of the martini that Jess made her. She still wasn’t looking at me, but I was getting a strange feeling that she was starting to open up just a bit. Not a lot, and probably not enough for us to suddenly trust each other, but enough to have both of us stay in the same space for right now.
“I know you think we’re all savages and outlaws and a bunch of thugs, and there are absolutely some members in my own club that are that way, I won’t lie. And, not coincidentally, those are the ones who never get leadership roles.”
Angela still didn’t look at me.
“We do some stupid shit, absolutely. But you have to understand, we would never, ever, ever murder a woman. Ever. Well, those who are in the club today wouldn’t.”
And that’s why Cole is gone. Even if...
“That’s just so antithetical to what we do, it’s incredulous to think we would do it. You want to know how I know? A couple of years ago, my father had us go on a run to a town several miles away to help a group in their fight to protect a woman against some predatory assholes in a rival club. I wasn’t keen on it. I hated the idea of getting involved in someone else’s violence. But we know justice when we see it. Killing a woman, that isn’t it.”
I just didn’t know what more to say that could defend us.
And then I got an idea.
“How did you know her?” I asked.
“Who?”
“Shannon Burns.”
For the first time since Angela had walked in, she actually looked up to face me. The look was one of anger and frustration at first, but it surprisingly began to melt in favor of nostalgic yearning. It wasn’t a warm look, but it didn’t have the chilliness that her previous expressions had had.
