The front of the large antebellum plantation house was lit up by spotlights. Abby peered through the windshield as Lindsey parked at the end of a line of cars on the side of the gravel drive.
“I’m so excited you came out tonight.” Lindsey squeezed Abby’s arm as they walked from the car and linked their elbows.
Abby twisted the corner of her mouth. She’d finally given in to Lindsey’s badgering to go out with her. She’d kind of run out of excuses—she had absolutely no responsibilities that weekend and she’d even caught up on grading and lesson plans during the in-school teacher workday, so she didn’t have that to fall back on.
“Come on.” Lindsey must have sensed her hesitation. “You promised you’d try to have fun. You deserve a night out, Abby. Let loose. Have fun!”
“I have fun,” she said indignantly.
“Going to the aquarium every weekend doesn’t count.”
Abby gave her a baleful look and sighed. “Fine. Who is this party for anyway?”
Lindsey shrugged. “I don’t think it’s for anyone—they’re just having a party.”
Abby stared at the row of motorcycles parked at the top of the drive. “Who’s they?”
“The Knights.”
“The White Knights? The Templar Knights? Gladys Knight?”
“The Tarnished Knights. They’re a motorcycle club.”
Abby stopped in her tracks, causing Lindsey to jerk on her arm. “Lindsey! We can’t be at a…a…” She glanced around, checking for anyone nearby. “A criminal hideout,” she finished with a hiss.
“Oh my god.” Lindsey rolled her entire head and yanked on her arm. “First of all, it’s not much of a hideout if they’re throwing a party and inviting people. Second, they’re not the kind of motorcycle club in your books. Most of them are military veterans and half of them are Veterans Against Child Abuse members.”
Abby ignored the dig about her favorite romance genre. “Really?”
“Really. The worst any of them does is smoke weed and get drunk.”
Abby chewed her lip. That didn’t sound so bad. Hell, she’d smoked the occasional joint in college.
Lindsey stopped and faced her. “I’ve been to their parties before and it’s nothing worse than any other party. Or nightclub. It’s probably safer because they keep an eye on things. I promise—if you’re at all uncomfortable or weirded out, we’ll leave. And I know one of the members and she’s a solid person.”
“She?” That got Abby’s attention.
“Yeah. She. I told you they weren’t that kind of motorcycle club.”
Abby closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She needed this. She’d promised herself she’d start getting out more often and try to remember who she was before her life went to hell and back. Old resentment and anger rose to the surface, but she pushed it down. She couldn’t change the past and getting angry about it had never done her any good.
She opened her eyes. “Okay. Lead the way.”
“Yay!” Lindsey did a little wiggle, then linked their arms back together. “Let’s go have fun. And maybe get you laid.”
Abby’s jaw dropped. “What? No. That’s not?—”
Lindsey threw her head back and laughed.
There was a full-size suit of armor in the entryway. A literal tarnished knight. The seams and joints of the armor were patinaed and rusted. It stood with both gauntlets resting on the end of the pommel of an upright sword, point down. The breast plate and shoulder pieces were etched with delicate filigree. If it was authentic, which Abby doubted since iron and steel didn’t patina the way it was on the armor, it was likely ceremonial rather than functional. The art historian part of her brain perked up and whispered, “Look at it. Touch it.”
Lindsey pulled her further into the house before Abby could become that person at the party.
A roped-off staircase led upstairs. The downstairs was divided into four large rooms, two on either side of the center hallway.
Lindsey stopped inside the first room on the left and searched through the crowd. She waved, and a woman across the room waved back and made her way to them.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you to Katherine.”
