“Don’t think that way, sweetie. We’re going to figure it out.”
I wish I believed them, but until we knew exactly what was going on, I was going to have to be strong for Hatch. It wouldn’t do him any good for me to melt down.
* * *
Later that evening, I’d still had no word from anyone when my sister-in-law showed up and let herself in. “Maisie! Honey, you here?”
“Where else would I be?” I ground out. “Kitchen,” I called.
Hatch’s sister, Cricket, rushed in and wrapped her arms around me. “Are you okay?”
“What do you think?”
She met my eyes and sighed. “Well, Minus thinks he’s figured some things out.”
Minus was Cricket’s man and the President of the Burning Saints MC. Cricket had just been hired as public relations liaison and head of the Burning Saints’ charitable foundations, so the two of them were the new kind of biker power couple. I was happy for her, even if Hatch wasn’t a huge fan of Minus.
“Why would Minus figure anything out?” I asked.
She appeared confused as she frowned. “You don’t know?”
“Start talking,” I demanded.
“Oh, god, honey, I don’t know if?”
“I swear to all that is holy, if you don’t start telling me what you know, I will never speak to you again.”
She sucked in a breath, then nodded. “Minus has located the person who kind of set Hatch up.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No.”
“Who is it?”
She bit her lip.
“Who, Christina?”
“Kitty.”
“Kitty, Kitty?”
She nodded.
Kitty had been patched out of the Dogs of Fire just before I’d met Hatch, but I’d certainly heard stories of the six-foot-seven tosser with brains and biceps bigger than anyone else’s on the planet. Framing Hatch would be a perfect way to get even, especially, if he could get the Burning Saints in on his little plan.
“And Minus is going along with all of this?” I asked, pulling open the wine cabinet.
“I wouldn’t say he’s going?”
“I’m out of wine up here,” I snapped. “Bloody hell, now I have to go downstairs and haul some up.” I stomped toward our basement just as I heard the roar of pipes. I let out a frustrated growl. “You deal with that!” I snapped, and continued downstairs.
I didn’t care who it was or what they wanted. I wanted to drown my sorrows in my favorite wine.
“Mummy!” Poppy called as she walked into the basement with takeout bags in her hands.
Her husband, Devon, walked in behind her with a six-pack of beer.
