They both nodded, and while Madden had started to guide her away again, Slater lingered a little longer. “River’s a hard person to crack.”
I laughed. “You’re telling me, but he’s helping.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Slater smirked. “You give me all the tips under the sun, but you need to take your own advice,mate. I don’t know what’s going on between you, but you’re a lot happier than you’ve been in a long time.” He shrugged. “That’s all I’m saying about it. Have a good night and call me if you need me.” With one final slap on the shoulder, he spun on his heel and followed Madden toward the exit.
I watched him go, pondering his words. I’d always been good at giving advice, but I’d never been great at taking my own. River and I were doing okay, though. We talked more than a lot of guys I knew, and I’d told him what I needed to about the whole BDSM thing, even if he hadn’t brought it up again.
“Hey.” River touched my arm, and I turned to him. “Vic gave me some information. Xander put the name Jason Bolton on his membership form. That’s the same name Seb gave us, but there’s more. To be allowed into a club like Triple X, you need someone to vouch for you, and he had that someone.”
“Was it Brickton?” I asked, excitement building in my chest. This was what I loved about police work, or in this case, investigative work. Connecting the dots, finding the real culprit.
“No.” River shook his head. “A lone biker by the name of Pierre Burgess. He’s not affiliated to any of the clubs, but he’s associated with them all. Does jobs for them.”
“Bloody hell. I wonder how much this Pierre knows.”
He gave me a real smile that flashed his teeth. “Me too, which is why I think we need to go talk to King.”
“King? As in Aaron Arthur?”
River snorted. “He knows every biker in a hundred-mile radius, and if Pierre does work for clubs, he’s probably done something for the Kings of Men. King won’t fuck us around like Vic did. He’d give me the answer we’re looking for.”
“And you want to go there now?” I swallowed down the fear that lodged itself in my throat. Going to the Kings’ clubhouse meant running the chance I’d see Hayden. Sitting outside and watching the junkyard was completely different from actually going in there. I’d accepted the fact that I didn’t want to talk to my brother again, not in these circumstances—me a cop and him a biker.
“Yes.” For once River’s face had relaxed, the stress that usually sat there disappearing, and I felt bad for not wanting to go and get answers for him. Fuck it. River deserved justice for what was done to him, and he deserved answers, too.
“Let’s go.”
River’s genuine smile was worth it.
Less than an hour later, after we’d gone back to my house so I could switch to civvies rather than my uniform, I’d changed my mind. I did not want to be here, walking through a wonky door into the dimly lit clubhouse that belonged to the Kings of Men MC. We came out of a hallway into what seemed to be their fun room, with a bar and couches. From some of the looks I was getting, I had a feeling they knew exactly who I was—or rather, what my job was.
I straightened my back and nodded at a big guy with a bushy ginger beard and a mean amount of tattoos over his arms. Hell, that could have described all of them, but I knew this one as the vice president of the club. I thought they called him Jester, but I wasn’t entirely sure.
River waved at a few of them and they grinned at him, but as soon as their gazes turned to me, their smiles disappeared, leaving behind scowls. I wasn’t scared of men like that, but I didn’t want to be in a room full of them without backup, either. I’d bet if River had a choice he’d choose to help them first.
Music pounded through the room even though it was nearly ten at night and on a weekday. There weren’t as many Kings as I expected, and I assumed it was because it wasn’t a weekend. A pair of men in leather jackets were in a corner, lip-locked in a passionate kiss that made my own cock twitch in my pants, especially when one, a large, mean-looking guy with short dark hair and a beard, grabbed the other on the ass, giving it a good squeeze.
“This way,” River said, gesturing toward the bar.
I followed him, not sure what else to do. At least I hadn’t encountered Hayden yet.
King sat on one of the stools. It wasn’t hard to identify him out of the lot of them, with his wide shoulders, and the way the men seemed to keep glancing at him once I walked into the room, like they expected him to smash a bottle over my head.
River stopped beside him. “Hey, King.”
King straightened from where he sat crouched over a glass of amber liquid and grinned at River. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite lawyer.”
“Don’t let Madden hear you say that.” River smiled so easily around King and it made my stomach stir. Bitterness lingered on my tongue, an acid taste I knew well enough as jealousy. River had never smiled like that at me, even when I had him in the back room of Triple X.
King laughed, a rich sound, before he turned to me. “Now, who is this? If I remember correctly, he’s a cop.”
I grimaced. “I’m also a private investigator, which is the identity I’m using now.”
“Mm-hmm.” He regarded me carefully, gaze sliding down my body in thought, as though he was trying to figure me out by my appearance. There wasn’t anything lewd in the way he looked at me, and from the rumors circulating the station, he had no reason to stare too hard, because he’d gotten together with the ATF agent who had gone undercover in their club. The agent even quit to keep his thing going with King. “And why do we have a PI in our clubhouse, River?”
“We need your help.” River took the stool next to King and nodded at the alcohol. “I thought you were cutting down.”
King laughed again. “I am. Actually, Grant and Dallas have conspired against me, and as of twelve hours from now, I’ll be attending some outpatient rehab place.”
