He grinned, sauntered to the drawer next to her, and pulled out a serving fork. “This do?”
She sighed. “Yes. And it figures it was in the only drawer I hadn’t checked.”
“You got enough to feed six other people?”
Her eyes flared. He loved making her react that way for some strange reason.
“I suppose it will. Are six other people eating with us?”
He grinned. “Probably four, but wanted to give you a heads-up. Plates are in the cabinet over there. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes.”
Her brows furrowed. “You going somewhere on your bike?”
He turned his head a fraction in question.
“Well, you had a cocktail, sir. Forgive me for being a little worried.”
He smiled. “No. Gonna see if Layla will answer my questions. If not, I’ll be back. She gets chatty, might be a bit, and if that happens, tell Brute to join me.”
She raised her free hand in a mock salute.
“Don’t get cute with me.”
She grinned. “Get your shit done. Since it doesn’t need gravy, my pot roast can’t be beat, so you snooze you lose.”
He shook his head. “Cocky doesn’t look good on you, baby.”
HAR UNLOCKED THE PADLOCK to the shed, and tilted his head for the prospect to leave. “Come back in five minutes, man.”
“Not leaving, sir. Gonna be right outside the door.”
He nodded. A chair sat to the side; he grabbed it, turned it backward, and straddled it.
Layla kept her eyes glued to the wall, but he knew she was paying attention to his every move.
He blew out a long breath. “I fucked up with you.”
Her eyes cut to him and then went back to the wall.
He expected her to say something. Maybe that lie had been too blatant.
“Since you’re keeping quiet, here’s what I think. You figure a bunch of outlaw bikers aren’t gonna call the cops in for their problems. You don’t expect the fuckin’ fire department to show when somebody tosses what should’ve been a firebomb into our clubhouse. And you don’t expect so much damage because you insisted on having that window wide open.”
“I wasn’t even here when shit happened,” she snapped.
He dipped his chin as though he believed her. “Okay, but going out on a limb, you sent the bitch here who insisted on the windows being open. Seeing as everything went to hell, there’s no real way for us to know. But, I trust my gut implicitly.”
“Implicitly,” she sneered.
He crossed his arms on top of the chair back. “Here’s the thing about me, Lay. Maybe you don’t know this. I don’t just cause harm to others. I’m willing to do shit that might even harm myself. So, we’ve got camera footage of the car. My hunch is Block is trying to get a decent rendering of the plate on that car, and once he does... I’m taking it to the Fire Department.”
She glared at him. “Not the cops?”
He shrugged. “Maybe them too, but seeing as my father was a fire captain, I’m well versed in the fact fire departments investigate shit, too. Especially where arson is concerned. And make no mistake, a Molotov cocktail is arson.”
Her face stayed blank.
His lips tipped up. “Don’t know, but I’m guessing your sister doesn’t need an investigation as to whether she’s a firebug or not.”
Her face paled. He’d never seen a woman’s face pale like that before, but with Layla’s brown hair and heavy eye makeup, it couldn’t be missed.
She still said nothing, but he waited her out.
After a few minutes, he exhaled and shifted upward, but stopped when Layla asked, “There are cameras on the forecourt and back parking area?”
He settled while forcing himself not to smile. “There are. We don’t tell people because it shouldn’t matter. And if it matters to someone, then that’s someone we don’t need around here.”
She turned her head while whispering, “Shit.”
Har stood up. “Where is our product?”
She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “I don’t know. I mean it. Massive put it in my trunk. When I took them home, another man was at Wreck’s and he took it. The car had Florida plates, but that doesn’t mean much. I don’t know who he is or why he has it.”
That had the ring of truth to it.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What about tonight? Your sister the driver or did she loan her car out to someone?”
Layla dipped her head. “I’m not sure. Wreck asked me to set him up with her. He heard me say she recently broke up with her ex, and he wanted to meet her. They’ve been seeing each other off and on for over two months now.”
He nodded. “I know you aren’t gonna like this, Layla, but—”
“Don’t you dare. Between Wreck and Massive, they’ll kill me.” She stared at the wall beyond him for a beat. “And probably Callie, too.”
He sighed and considered her situation. “Tonight, you’re sleeping in here. I’ll—”
“Are you crazy? There’s no AC, no bed—”
“Shut the fuck up, bitch. You let two brothers play you against their president and the rest of the club. You fucked up. Which means you pay up. Got me?”
She didn’t answer and he widened his eyes.
“I got you,” she murmured.
“You’re here tonight. Gonna have a prospect on you, and in the morning you’re gonna spill this shit to the rest of the men. Massive and Wreck won’t be there.”
She took in a deep breath. “I don’t trust that, Har.”
“Tough. You shouldn’t have trusted Wreck or Massive when they talked you into this bullshit.”
He put the chair against the wall, and faced her. “One last thing, any other brothers in on this shit?”
She held his eyes, but they cut to the side and he knew she wanted to lie.
“Layla.”
“One of the prospects, the light-haired one, knows about my sister’s car and Wreck being with her.”
He nodded. He knew the prospect named Carter. The pang of
