Page 27 of T-Bone (Steel Demons MC #11)

But I didn’t want to think about that. It made everything too fucking confusing. It was easier if he stayed in the box chosen for him. That’s what I told myself as I moved from the living room to the hall, and then the kitchen where I found a bottle of water first.

And then a photo. More accurately, a corkboard filled with photos of T-Bone.

Of his life before he was a Steel Demon.

Photos of him with other young men, grease streaked faces, fresh tattoos and wide, almost innocent smiles.

Photos on a beach somewhere, photos of what looked like him on his first motorcycle.

A smile touched my lips as I imagined the man he was before he’d become a biker, but the smile quickly faded with one image that made me doubt everything I thought I knew about, well everything.

It was almost hidden beneath other photos, but I knew it wasn’t quite so sinister, it was simply that other photos had replaced it over the years.

Still, it was there.

It was a clue. A fact hidden from me.

On purpose or a lapse in memory.

I plucked the tack from the board to examine the photo more closely just to be sure my eyes were seeing what I thought they were.

T-Bone was younger, and he wore a boyish smile that seemed almost excited, which was a shock in itself but it wasn’t the thing that shocked me most. No, it was who stood beside him in the photo. Marcus.

The man who had isolated and abused my sister and my niece. The man who’d killed Chloe and was the reason the Ghost Riders were now after my last remaining family.

Anger hit me first. Then betrayal and anger again but this second round of anger was reserved strictly for me.

I’d been na?ve and worse than that, I’d been stupid.

Falling for another man’s lies as if I hadn’t learned this lesson time and time again over the years.

When his heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, I snatched the photo from the counter and shoved it in my back pocket.

“Hey,” he smiled. “Hungry?”

I shook my head. “I’m good, actually. In fact, I think we should just head back to the clubhouse.” Where I could gather my things and finish this search on my own.

He let out a low grunt. “What is it now?”

Oh, that tone was enough to piss off a perfectly happy woman, but one who was ready to snap? That was just more tinder for the fire. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means there’s something on your mind, real or imagined, but you’re holding back. Just fuckin’ tell me.”

I hated that tone, but he was right. There was no point dancing around it, so I asked him outright. “Do you know Marcus personally?”

He frowned. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think I’d know if I knew him. Why?”

I pulled the photo from my pocket and smacked it on the counter. “That’s why. You are a liar.”

“I’m not lying,” he started but I didn’t let him finish.

“Is this why you’ve been putting off going to Shiloh Valley, to give the Ghost Riders time to get there first?”

His expression darkened. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? Because right here in living color is a photo of you smiling with the man who killed my sister.” I smacked the photo for emphasis.

“I don’t know him,” he roared and grabbed the photo. “This photo is at least a decade old. We probably ran around the same biker events, same strip clubs, same places all the MCs hung out back in the day. But I don’t know him.”

I wanted to believe him, which was as sure a sign as any that I shouldn’t. That I couldn’t. “Right.” I snorted and shook my head. “This was a mistake.” I rushed past him and put my shoes on. Then I looked back at him, shook my head and walked out.

“Fightin’ with the mister?” Ginger’s voice sounded from her stoop. One perfectly lined brow arched in question.

“He’s not my mister and yeah, you could say we had a fight.”

“People who don’t mean anything to each other, rarely fight.”

“Yeah well, we’re in the small percentage who do,” I shot back, face hot with humiliation for believing his lies. I’ll bet him and his buddies had a good laugh at keeping me chasing my tail. “Liars lie, I shouldn’t even be mad.”

“But you are, because you care.” Ginger patted the seat beside her, but I was too amped up to sit so I paced. “Men are stupid, and they are liars, that’s a fact. But we have to listen carefully because they are stupid which means they do stupid things, but sometimes they have noble reasons.”

I snorted disbelief. “Those reasons are called rationalizations.”

Ginger laughed and got to her feet. “Come on inside.” She disappeared inside without waiting, confident I’d follow.

And I did. “It’s no big deal. I thought I could trust him, and I was wrong.

Story of my life. Maybe I’ll learn the lesson the next time.

” Not that there would be a next time with him or anyone else.

I’d have my hands full raising a traumatized little girl, a task that wouldn’t leave any room for a man. Lying or otherwise.

“You might be wrong. I know men and Terrence is one of the good ones, he’s just got a really rough outer shell,” she said, laughing at her words.

“He is a good man, but also a liar. That’s a deal breaker for me.”

Ginger opened her mouth to respond but her lights flickered twice and then the room was plunged into darkness. Seconds later the sound of glass breaking next door drew my attention.

“Shit.” I patted my sides and found myself without my gun.

“Here.” Ginger rushed to the table near her front door and handed me a pink nine millimeter Glock. “Extra clip is in there too.”

I smiled. “You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Gotta keep the world on its toes,” she replied with a smile. “Now go help your man.”

I nodded and put on my game face. “Stay here and stay down, yeah?”

“Got it.” She got down on the floor and waved me off. “Be careful.”

I closed her door behind me and crept back over to T-Bone’s place, listening to the direction of the noises though I knew they were heading upstairs.

Inside the lights were off, of course, and I heard the distinct sounds of fighting, fists hitting bone, grunts and bodies falling to the floor.

I moved forward cautiously with the gun in my hand as I quietly went up the steps.

Inside T-Bone’s bedroom, he was taking on two men in Ghost Riders gear.

He was still in nothing but a pair of jeans and from what I could tell he was trying to get to his gun.

The other guys were relentless, punching and kicking him nonstop.

I had to get closer, moving cautiously because surprise was my only advantage.

T-Bone was a good fighter and a kick to the stomach sent one man flying backwards into his dresser. He scrambled to his feet quickly, pulling out a knife as the other rushed T-Bone.

This is it.

I raised my gun and squeezed off two quick shots at the man with the knife. Both landed center mass and he crumpled to the ground before his brain got the memo.

He took care of the other guy with a well-placed hook to the jaw.

“Are you okay?” I stepped over the obviously dead guy to get to T-Bone, checking the bruise that was starting to form on one cheek. His torso had a nasty slice in it too. “You’re not.”

He smacked my hand away. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah okay, tough guy.” I shook my head. “Let’s get you bandaged up so we can get the hell out of here.”

“Now you care?” His tone was gruff and almost hurt.

“Of course I care. I came back, didn’t I?” I shook my head and grabbed the first-aid kit from under the bathroom sink. “I don’t want you dead, I just don’t think I can trust you.” I cleaned the slice on his side, satisfied that it wasn’t as deep as it looked.

“I never lied to you Faith.”

“You just forgot you knew the man who killed my sister?” That was mighty convenient.

“I didn’t know him,” he insisted. “Go back and look at the photos, there are plenty of people in ‘em I don’t fucking know. We go to bike events all the time and people document it, doesn’t mean I know all of them.”

I wanted to believe him, badly, which only strengthened my resolve not to believe him. “We should probably head back to your clubhouse.”

“So you can get the fuck away from me?”

“I think that’s best for everyone.” I grabbed a t-shirt from one of his drawers and tossed it on the bed. “Let’s go.”

“We’re taking my bike.”

“Whatever,” I grumbled.

“Why’d you come back?”

“Ginger stopped me, and I was talking to her when the lights went out. Heard the glass break and figured you needed my help. I was right.”

He snorted a laugh. “Thanks for coming back. You didn’t have to.”

I nodded once and we left. “I’m going to check on Ginger.”

“I’m fine honey,” she called out from the other side of the door. “How’s Terrence?”

“I’m fine, Ginger.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke. “How is he really?”

“Mostly fine, but a little banged up.”

“Keep her, Terrence. Don’t mess it up,” she called out loudly.

I laughed. “You’re all clear, Ginger. We’re leaving.”

“See you around,” she said with a smile in her voice.

I shook my head and walked to his bike for the last time. In a few hours I’d be back where I started.

On my own.

“We’re not done with this conversation,” he said before revving the engine and taking off.