Lucy
Another group of men came in, eyeing me up as they walked past. I kept my focus on them, not showing any weakness.
“Want a drink?” Jay’s face changed back to stone.
He didn’t wait for my answer, but poured two fingers of something amber into a glass and set it on the bar. I didn’t move, unsure if I wanted to get any closer to him than I already had been.
“Relax,” he said. “If I wanted you gone, you wouldn’t have made it past the fence.”
I stepped forward and picked up the glass, downing the drink in one. The whiskey burned on the way down. Cheap and bitter, exactly like the man behind the bar.
From the end of the bar, one of the older patched members muttered, “Girl drinks better’n Boxer,” loud enough for the table to hear. A biker grumbled, but it got a few chuckles.
Riot chuckled and added, “Careful, Pres. She’s got Caleb’s spine and your temper. Dangerous mix.” Then, in a softer voice, he said to me,“You don’t scare easy. That’ll keep you alive longer than a gun in this place.”
Jay looked at Riot and gave him a nod.
“I saw what was on top of the casket,” I said, my eyes not leaving his.
Jay’s expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes flinched.
“He wasn’t part of this club anymore,” I said. “He left. He got clean. So, why was he in a Dead Knights kutte when they put him in the ground?”
Jay stood straight. “That’s not something I can answer.”
“Why not?”
“Because it wasn’t my decision.”
“Then whose was it?” I folded my arms and jutted out my hip. The move wasn’t lost on Jay, whose gaze dropped to my waist and hovered there for far too long.
I cleared my throat, and his eyes snapped to mine. Suddenly, I was regretting getting his attention back on me.
“You’re not in the club. You don’t get access to our decisions.” He didn’t blink. His words were harsh and meant to be the end of the conversation.
I stared at him. “I’m not asking for access. I’m asking for the truth. Please.”
“That’s not how this place works.”
I drained the rest of the whiskey and set the glass down on the bar hard enough to crack it.“Then maybe I need to find someone who gives less evasive answers.”
Jay smirked. “You’re a long way from New York, princess. People don’t give out the truth because you look pissed off.”
“I’m not from New York.”
“No?” He leaned forward again, and I fought the instinct to take a step back. “Then what’s with the accent and the attitude?”
I met his gaze and tried to keep mine steady. “Maybe I don’t like being lied to.”
After a long pause, Jay nodded slowly, like I’d passed some sort of test.
“I loved your brother,” he said. “He was good, smart, and loyal.”
My voice softened, and my chest constricted. That was the Caleb I knew—the honest, kind, fun big brother who was nothing but loyal. “Then why’s he dead?” My voice cracked, I couldn’t help it.
“I don’t know, but I didn’t kill him.” He straightened and pushed his hands into his jeans pockets.
I searched his face. I wanted to believe him so bad, and then I hated that I did. His face showed no sign of guilt. Instead, what I saw was my emotions reflected, anger mixed with grief. His brow furrowed, and his eyes were dull.
