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Someone cleared their throat. I stifled a noise of frustration at the interruption and turned to see Blackbeard, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, head cocked to the side.

“Would you believe me if I said that’s not the weirdest foreplay I’ve ever heard?”

“Is there a reason you’re standing there watching us like a perv?” I shot back.

Blackbeard jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“Cop is at the door. He’s looking for the man in charge.”

I swore under my breath, reluctantly pulling away from Hattie.

“Stay out of sight,” I said. “Just to be safe.”

If the cops had warned Hattie to avoid associating with me, or my club, it wouldn’t be a good look if she was found here, a few days before her trial. And if I was getting arrested for manslaughter, then I really didn’t want her involved.

Although the presence of one cop usually didn’t mean trouble. If the police suspected me, they would have arrived with back up, instead of sending one man alone into the lion’s den.

When Blackbeard and I returned to the main room of the clubhouse, everyone at the bar had their hackles up. Quiet and watchful, on edge. A cop lingered at the door, assessing the room, obviously outnumbered. I recognized him—this was Baby Doll’s cop.

“You wanted to speak to me?” I said.

The cop stepped forward and grasped my hand with a firm shake.

“I’m Officer Shepard. I understand you’re Neil Gibson, also known as Kingpin.”

“Any cop worth his salt should know who I am. The boys in blue generally don’t like to see me coming.”

“I moved here a few years ago, and your name does pop up on a surprisingly regular basis,” Shepard admitted. “Could you tell me where you were last night? From around midnight to two or three o’clock in the morning.”

I shrugged and spread my hands.

“Went for a ride to clear my head. My bike has been in the garage for repairs. I wanted to take her for a spin, get her tires on the road again. Then I came home and fell asleep.”

Not a lie. I just left out the part where I visited Hattie. And ordered my brothers to torture a wanted criminal.

Officer Shepard studied my face for a moment.

“Can anyone verify that?”

“Nope. In case you haven’t noticed, the roads are empty in the middle of the night. My brothers can back me up when I say I haven’t entertained another woman’s company since my divorce over a decade ago. What’s this about anyway?”

“It’s a small town, Mr. Gibson,” Shepard replied. “Word spreads fast. I’m sure you’ve heard that your ex-wife is involved in a court case later this week.”

“I have,” I admitted.

Shepard scrubbed a hand over his mouth, deliberating his next move.

“And you’ve put me in one hell of a tough place here—”

“I didn’t ask for a damn thing from you. That squeeze you’re feeling right now is Baby Doll’s doing, not mine.”

He heaved a sigh of exasperation.

“Look, the end result is the same, regardless of how it happened. I dug up information on your ex-wife. The next thing I know, there’s a body at the police station, tied to her case. Doesn’t take a coroner to see he’d been roughed up before he’d been killed. You’re the type of man to do that. It seems you have a long history of bodies turning up in your wake around Brightwater.”

Blackbeard spoke up from the bar, stifling a yawn.

“The only thing I’m hearing out of your mouth is conjecture, Officer,” he said. “Are you making an arrest or not? And on what charges?”