“Oh?” My heart sung, but I stuffed down that emotion and forced myself to look at my laptop screen. “Did he say why?”
“Oh, he didn’t say anything at all,” she snapped. “Someone named Doc informed me that he wasn’t going to make it.”
“That’s weird,” Jaxon said.
“Why is that weird?” Harmony asked.
Jaxon stood. “Gonna find out. Give me a few.”
I glanced at Harmony who shrugged.
Jaxon returned a few minutes later and sat back down. “Yeah, he can’t make it.”
“Why not?” Harmony asked.
“He just can’t.”
Harmony turned her body on the sofa to face him. “Again, honey, why not?”
“Let’s just say his face wouldn’t be very good company.”
I frowned, closing my laptop. “What does that mean?”
Jaxon took a swig of his beer.
“Jaxon,” Harmony pressed.
“He’s got some injuries.”
I gasped. “What kind of injuries?”
“The kind that means he can’t take Melody out.”
“Did he crash his bike?” Harmony asked.
I gasped again. “Oh my god, did he?”
“No,” Jaxon said.
“Someone needs to start giving me information, or I swear I’m going to hit something,” I warned.
“Not my story to tell,” Jaxon said. “Sorry, Lyric.”
I picked up my cell phone and swiped the screen, scrolling to Shawn Campbell’s number and dialing.
“Hey, Lyric, how are you feeling?”
“I’m doing okay, Shawn, how are you?” I asked.
Shawn Campbell had been my firm’s top investigator for over ten years and he was always my first call whenever I needed something fast and accurate.
“Good. What can I do for you?”
“I need information on Lincoln Marxx, two x-es. He’s part of the Dogs of Fire motorcycle club and his club name is Doom.” I heard Harmony tsk, while Jaxon groaned, but I ignored them both.
“How much information do you need?”
“As much as you can give me,” I said.
