He didn’t finish the words.He banished him. He told him to never come back. Maybe that’s why Cole is missing.
“Fucked up, right?” Lane said with a laugh. “I can’t forgive Cole because of how things unfolded. He could be innocent—fuck, probably is, why the fuck not—and yet I can’t forgive him. It’s fucked up. All because I’m jealous of what he was to the club.”
I put a hand on his shoulder, this time ignoring how it might have looked, and gave a gentle rub. I had hoped that the gesture, so far up on the shoulder and away from any romantic or courting spots, might have not seemed to flirtatious and more just friendly.
I wasn’t sure, though, that either of us actually believed or wanted it to be that way.
“You’re a very self-aware individual,” I said. “I guess that’s why you’re President of the club.”
“Hah,” Lane snorted, shaking his head. “I’m President because my last name is Carter. I’m barely holding on as it is.”
“Why?”
Lane struggled to form an answer. Eventually, he just bowed his head, looking down at the bar before resting his head on his forearm.
“Lane, are you okay?”
He didn’t answer for a few moments. I swore I even heard sobbing, but I didn’t dare ask the biker if he was crying. Instead, I just let the silence give him the space he needed to contemplate my question. Whatever conclusion he came to, I wanted him to come to it without my questioning him.
“I can’t tell you,” he said. “It needs to stay in the club. Besides, you’re the Deputy DA. You hear things, and... ”
He tilted his head slightly toward his other shoulder, which had a few bandages on it. I got the picture clearly enough. I could have asked him questions and turned this into a criminal investigation... but that didn’t seem healthy for my long-term relationship with a club that, really, wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Granted, that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to put pressure on the club. Lane, the President of the Black Reapers, and Lane, the human before me, could very well be two different people, and it was my job to hold the former accountable for his actions. But as a human, it was my duty to help the latter in a spot like this.
“I understand,” I said. “Listen, any time you want to talk about it... I want to help you.”
Lane looked up with red, bloodshot eyes. It was pretty clear what he’d been doing, but like I said, there was no way I was going to call it out for what it was.
“I need to get going,” I said, which was a true statement. I’d stayed out way later than I had ever anticipated. “But if you ever come to me, if you ever want to meet, I’m happy to talk Cole and your relationship with him. I promise I won’t be doing it to investigate criminal activity. I’m not going to bullshit you, I’m still going to do that as needed. And if you tell me you did something illegal, that’s really bad in our conversations... you get the idea.”
“Yeah,” Lane said weakly before chuckling.
“Listen, here’s my number,” I said, scribbling it on a napkin before handing it to him. “Text or call me if you want to talk about this.”
I stood up from my barstool, an action that Lane mirrored as well. We didn’t even have a moment before the next thing happened. It just happened as if we’d been hanging out for weeks on end, not for minutes upon minutes.
He embraced me tightly.
And you know what? It felt perfectly right. I was pretty good at separating the President and the man, and I was hugging the man, not the President.
What happened next, though, what happened when we pulled back, I was not ready for.
I looked up into Lane’s eyes, and I felt myself almost magnetically pulled to him. I could not pull away from his gaze, no matter how much my mind begged to just step back. I could separate the President and the man, but if I let myself get too close, that was going to be impossible. Separation was only possible because of boundaries.
And yet... and yet, for several seconds, I felt like I was looking at someone who was a lot closer to me than I could have ever imagined. We were both fighting to avenge the death of a loved one. We both had parts of ourselves that we had trouble revealing to each other. We both were hard-nosed, stubborn people.
We just wore different uniforms.
And boy, looking at him from his angle, he was awfully handsome. And vulnerable. And a good guy. And...
“Thanks for this conversation, Lane,” I said, using my words to create space. “I genuinely did have a great time, and I appreciate you opening up a bit to me. I... I promise we’re going to bring Shannon the peace she deserves.”
“I know,” Lane said softly. “Thanks.”
He cleared his throat, smiled, and sat back down. The body language was clear—let me drink in peace now. I tried to put a twenty on the bar to pay for it, but Lane put his hand out. Without a word, I nodded to him, expressing my gratitude, and let myself walk out the door.
I headed home, not exactly angry at myself, but I told myself I had to be very, very careful around Lane. I had a job to do, and fraternizing with him was going to make that job very difficult. If he wasn’t a person of interest in the case—something that was becoming readily apparent, though professionally, I couldn’t make it a definitive statement—then it wasn’t as important.
