“Fine,” I huff, handing out a shot to everyone before I climb onto one of the big chairs by the fire. “Cheers,” I offer before slamming back the drink.
My lips twist up in a smile as the bourbon burns down my throat. Honestly, I’m not a huge fan of any spirits, but since King came along, I’ve developed a solid appreciation for good bourbon.
Steel looks at Maverick, a grin spreading on his face. “Totally the best WIP for us.”
They tap their glasses, reaching for Tyson and King and then they all slam their drinks back.
King refills everyone’s glass, but I hop up and add ice to mine. If I keep slinging shots back, I’ll be messy in no time at all. While that sounds like fun, we won’t get any resolution.
I look at each of them before I start, knowing what I share is going to include some parts that will be hard for them to listen to, but they need to know. “Within a few hours of King andI meeting I started getting threats sent to my phone along the lines of ‘stay away’. They’re on my phone if you want a look.”
“’Cept whoever sent them decided to escalate pretty quickly. Tristan got attacked and I was sent a photo. The timing matched Rex going after our Southern Sector and then my chop-shop being burnt.”
Steel shakes his head almost as soon as King finishes speaking. “Doesn’t sound like his deal.”
“What part?” I ask.
“Messaging, beating on you. Hitting King’s businesses and his reputation makes a lot of sense, he loses money. Doing a joint attack is a pretty standard approach; split the drama and cause as much damage sends a bigger message. But texting… nah, that’s not Rex.” Tyson nods, agreeing with Steel.
King rubs a hand over his face before taking another shot. “The security footage of the hotel shows two Death Riders entering her room then leaving a few minutes later.”
“You got the footage?” Steel asks and holds his hand out to see it.
“Yeah, I’ll flip it over to you. Their faces are covered but…” King scrolls through his phone. “What’s your number?”
Steel and Tyson talk at the same time, and they have to repeat it before they get an alert on their phone. King watches as the three of them watch the grainy image but I watch him, and he knows it.
His lip pulls to a half smirk because he knows he’s busted. Of course he shrugs unapologetically at me. “I’m not sending it to you. You didn’t need to see it. Still don’t.”
“Says you.” I argue, waiting to hear exactly why King hasn’t shared with me a video of the attack, and why he’s waited so long to tell me he has a copy.
“Yep. I did make a call not to show you because you were dealing with fucking enough. Like all the actual pain from beingsomeone’s punching bag, killer.” He snaps, his hand squeezing his phone.
I stare at him, shocked yet unsurprised but he just stares right back at me in challenge. Our tense standoff lasts a few minutes before I get a tiny nearly indescribable nod of apology from him. I get where he’s coming from, King is all about protection and saving me from crap, but at the same time I need to be at least included in decisions that are about me.
Steel starts watching the screen again. “Without seeing the cut properly, I’m not a hundred percent certain but pretty confident to say?—”
“That’s Grover’s,” Maverick interrupts Steel, pressing play on the device again and pointing at something on the screen.
“Yeah. That’s what I reckon too. See that patch on the shoulder?”
Maverick nods, his eyes locked on the screen still. “He got it to cover the rip when he tried to run from the police.”
“Kind of irrelevant to the story, Mav, but yeah that jacket belonged to Grover. He died about three years ago of a heart attack.”
King’s eyes narrow. “That’s fucking sick if Rex lets newbies wear dead men’s clothes.”
Tyson shakes his head. “No, he doesn’t do that. Official Death Rider gear goes to the next of kin. And Grover had no kids so I’d say it would have gone to Lizzy?”
“Thought you weren’t patched?” King snarls, his mood worsening the clearer it is that Tyson, Mav, and Steel all know an awful lot about the machinations of the Death Riders.
“I’m not. But it doesn’t mean I wasn’t involved, remember.” Tyson wiggles his fingers, “Medically trained means I was dragged into drama in other ways. Grover liked to beat on Lizzy, I helped her on a couple of occasions. Tried to get her to leave him but he kept her addicted to the gear, and to him.”
“And that isn’t a chick in the video, so who did Lizzy give his jacket to and why?” Maverick says, keeping us on track.
“You got a photo of Lizzy?” King growls, a growing wildness to his voice and in his eyes. I hop up off my chair and bulldoze my way past his defences to sit on his lap. His arm circles under me and he holds me tight as he shoots off a text message before he starts absently toying with his ring on my finger. I look up at him waiting for an update. “JB will get on to it, but I need her date of birth and a recent photo.”
“As soon as I’m at work, I’ll get her details and send them over.”
