Page 35

“This meeting would not have been necessary had your men not attacked one of my strongholds.”

Lucas cocks his head and flicks an uneasy look my way, before his eyes fall on the envelope in my hand, an inquisitive expression on his face. Something that smells like fear licks the edges of his face before worry sets in. I open the envelope and shuffle the photos out, before I fling them at his chest. I watch as they slide down his body and coat the floor, note his gasp of surprise and the way his eyes move slowly to the floor as he confirms what they are. The photos are blown up to such an extent, there is no escaping the images that flash before his eyes. The identity of each and every man that participated in the attack. Photos of what I assume are eight men that belong to his club.

Lucas uses the tip of his boot to slowly spread the photos, concentrating on one in particular that catches his eye. His mouth twitches, then his eye, as the face of Moneybags’ would be rapist looks up at him from its position on the ground. Lucas visibly blanches; he may be many things, but a murderer and a rapist he is not. The background check Pietro did on him has produced an unblemished past, proving that the saint was too straight to be playing in a field full of sinners. In that moment, I understand two things about the man. That he is furiously angry at the man in the photo, but he is not surprised. And the second thing is that he has nothing to do with the attack on my safehouse – of this, I am certain. The rage alone that radiates from within him is enough to tell me this.

“I take it you didn’t order the attack.”

His face shoots up to mine quickly, a mixture of denial and anger at his own men evident in the sorrow that follows.

“The Savages MC have lived side by side with our neighbors for decades without incident. Contrary, in the past you’ve called on us for support and we’ve offered it unconditionally.”

This I know to be true. There have been times in the past when external entities had tried to move into our territory. Entities that were thousands strong. We would not have been prepared to overcome them had it not been for the unwavering support of the local motorcycle gangs who aided by lending soldiers and fighting alongside us.

“I’m facing a dilemma here,” I inform him. “You may not have ordered the attack. But someone did. These are your men, are they not? They need to be held accountable.”

“I’ll deal with it,” Lucas says, his gaze fixed on the pictures decorating the floor.

“Who’s this?” I point to the man who’d originally accosted Moneybags in the service station.

“Tomas Wojcak.”

“Who is he to you?”

“He’s the club’s sergeant-at-arms.”

“So he ranks pretty high up. Yet you couldn’t stop him from partaking in this attack?”

Lucas huffs out a defeated breath. He seems to age before my very eyes as I wait patiently for his response. One way or another, I will get what I came here for today.

“Tomas has been making waves within the club for a while. He hasn’t been here in weeks, he’s missed crucial meetings and he’s gone missing off jobs on several occasions without notice or reasonable explanation.”

“Go on,” I prompt, when his extended pause fails to yield any further information.

“I don’t know what he’s up to. I don’t. He’s tried to displace me a couple of times, and it’s my feeling he’s still conspiring to overthrow me. Doing someone’s bidding in an attack such as this could provide him with the leverage he needs to finally get rid of me.”

“Where can I find him?”

“No permanent address. But he likes to spend time with a lady over in Halcyon.”

I move slowly toward Lucas, until we are standing so close, I could reach out and touch him without stretching my arm. His crystal blue eyes, which would have been considered other worldly had they not harbored such fear, probe into me, waiting. I know that my gaze is an intimidating one. I know when to be calm and collected, and I know when it is time to throw the specter of my shadow over someone’s shoulder. He’s failed to keep a leash on his dogs. And now there would be repercussions. He knows this. But I will handle this my way, on my terms. I will show the perpetrators of the attack no mercy once I catch up with them.

“I want you to do nothing about this problem.” He is startled, a frown lifting across his face. “Tell no one I was here. I’ll rid you ofyourproblem while I get rid of mine. But you make sure to tighten those reigns on the rest of your dogs.”

32

KINGSLEY

Idon’t see Dante for two days. Two days in which I, ashamed to say, miss him. Because no matter what it comes down to, Dante is the only person here who I can at least have a conversation with. The only person that can even provide me with the much needed information that I seek. I miss that there is no one here who I can talk to.

I spend both days in a murderous state, bored beyond the acceptable threshold, walking the grounds and pacing my room. On the third day, I decide to pull myself out of my funk and go for a swim, fishing a tank top out of a drawer and knotting it at my navel.

Draping my towel on a sun lounge, I unbutton my jeans and let them drop to the ground, before I step out of them and dive into the pool. I lift my arms and surge through the water, swimming in continuous laps until I exhaust my body and know I’ll pay the price the next day when I wake with aching muscles. I glide through the water to the edge of the pool, lift my arms to rest my chin on them as I take a steady breath before emerging from the water.

A heavy shadow falls across the pool, blocking the sun, and my breath catches as I look up to find Dante standing there, barely inches away, looking down at me. He wears a blue grey suit, the jacket unbuttoned to reveal a white shirt underneath, the buttons at the collar loose. His hands are deep in his pockets as he watches me, his eyes fixed with dark concentration.

I don’t know how long he’s been standing there, and although I’ve missed him, the way he’s staring at me causes a thin layer of anxiety to slide into my bones. For all the poker playing I’ve done and the skill of reading people to know what their next move is, I can’t for the life of me read his expression now. There is something hard in his eyes that I can’t quite decipher. I lift my body from the pool at the same time as he turns and lifts my towel from the sun lounge and wraps me in it the moment my feet hit the tiles. He brings the edges of the towel together across my neck, holding it close as he wraps it tight and murmurs close to my ear, “You shouldn’t have gone in without a bathing suit.”

I blush at his words as I take stock of all the soldiers littering the gardens. I hadn’t even stopped to consider my actions before stripping and throwing myself into the water. I now find myself flushing in embarrassment, realizing that only Dante could put me in my place with so little words and so delicate a tone. I raise my hands up to replace his, pulling the towel tighter as I turn to walk away. No matter how much I want to stay and talk to him, the embarrassment is too much to bear.