Page 11 of Finn

I picked up the fax as several pages flowed through. My breath caught in my throat. My hands started to tremble.

It was a request for information on the Guardians of Mayhem.

7

CHLOE

The paper shook in my hands. Actually shook, like I was some scared little rabbit instead of a woman who'd been sleeping with the enemy for weeks.

Guardians of Mayhem. The words stared back at me from the fax, bold and black and damning. A formal request from the Albuquerque Task Force for all files, records, and intelligence on the motorcycle club currently operating out of Edgewood, New Mexico.

Finn's club.

My Finn.

I forced myself to take a breath. My desk was just a desk. The fluorescent lights were just lights. Margaret was typing away like the world wasn't ending. Because for her, it wasn't.

"Chloe!" Sheriff Malone's bark made me jump. "You get something on the fax?"

I turned, and I swear my face must have looked like I'd seen a ghost, because his eyebrows drew together.

"Everything okay?"

No. Nothing is okay. I'm holding a document that could put the man I'm falling for behind bars, and you're asking me if everything is okay.

"Yeah." The word came out steadier than I expected. "Just follow-up paperwork on the Devils. More records they need for processing." I waved the pages like they were nothing. Like they weren't a goddamn grenade. "I'll add it to the pile."

Malone grunted. "Good. Lord knows we've got enough on our plates with those idiots." He wandered back to his office, coffee in hand, newspaper tucked under his arm. Business as usual.

I waited until his door clicked shut. Then I slid the Guardians request to the bottom of my inbox tray, beneath three weeks' worth of filing I'd been "getting to." My heart was pounding so loud I was sure Margaret could hear it.

She didn't look up.

For the next four hours, I typed. I filed. I answered the phone with my usual chipper "Edgewood Police Department, how may I direct your call?" I ate my sandwich at my desk and laughed at Peters' dumb joke about the coffee machine. I was the picture of normalcy.

Inside, I was screaming.

The clock on the wall moved like it was wading through molasses. Every tick felt like an accusation. Every time Malone glanced my way, I was certain he knew. Certain he could see the guilt written all over my face.

At 4:47, I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed my phone and ducked into the bathroom, locking myself in the far stall.

My fingers trembled as I typed.

Need to see you. Tonight. Not Shady Meadows. Somewhere private. It's important.

Three dots appeared almost instantly. Finn was nothing if not attentive when it came to my texts.

My place. I'll text you the address. Everything okay?

I stared at the screen. Was everything okay? No. Everything was the opposite of okay. Everything was fucked.

No. But it will be. See you in an hour.

I hit send before I could second-guess myself.

* * *

The drive to Finn's place felt like a fever dream. The desert stretched out on either side of me, all rust-colored earth and scrubby bushes, the sun sinking low and turning everything gold. Beautiful, if I'd been in any state to appreciate it.