Crossing Lines (Roughshod Rollers MC 1)

“The deadline is in three days,” I remind him. “We don’t have any choice, anymore. It’s either find somewhere else or just meet up here.”

“Can’t we just do that?” Ethan whines.

I roll my eyes. For a responsible single parent, the man can be remarkably childish, sometimes.

“No,” I say bluntly. “The owner, Peter, wouldn’t be too happy about that, and you know it. We’d scare away the rest of the clients.”

Ethan scowls. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. It isn’t like we’d cause any problems. But I get your point. This place is out for a regular meeting place, and you and Liam think we need to find somewhere else. I think we still have a chance to save it.”

“Yeah?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “On what grounds?”

He grins slyly and leans in. “I might just have a good idea…”

Alex

The walk light flashes green and I cross the street in a crowd. No one gives me a second glance. As a small-time private detective, I appreciate the anonymity, but I can’t help but think, with irony, of how different it is when I’m wearing the Roughshod Rollers jacket.

I part from the crowd and continue on to my destination; a large shopping center in the middle of Philadelphia. The afternoon is beginning to draw to a close, but the streets are still thick with people and I think longingly of the moment when I will be able to escape to the city outskirts, where I will find the Anchor Bar and the sanctuary of the Roughshod Rollers.

Not yet, though. I still have things to do today, things that I must get done before it is too late.

I cast my mind away from thoughts of the house. Right now, I have more important things to worry about. Like the fact that I have run out of milk and, without milk, I cannot make any more coffee. Luckily, the shopping center is only a few blocks away from my agency, so I decided to brave the crowds.

It’s just as busy inside the center as outside, but I slip through the masses with ease. There is no one who calls out to me, but I recognize several faces. There’s the woman who hired me to follow her suspicious boyfriend who ended up married with another family. A store owner concerned with a thief who turned out to be one of their employees. A man who believed his garage was getting broken into every night, though closer inspection made the embarrassing discovery that it was simply a group of squirrels making their home there. All small cases, but I have never professed to want anything larger, and it helps me keep the bills paid.

I make my way into a grocery store and head straight for the cold section. All I need is one carton of milk…

“What the hell are you doing here?”

At the sound of the loud, obnoxious voice, I groan loudly, not bothering to care whether my assailant hears me, and turn around. The familiar scowling face of Hayley Reed comes into my view, and I return her frown with all the force I can muster.

“Buying milk,” I say, deadpan. “Is that a crime now?”

She flushes, but the embarrassment is gone as quickly as it appears - a sneer making its way onto her face instead. I hate this woman. She would be beautiful, with her round face and large eyes framed with soft, auburn curls, but her personality is rotten to the core. Or maybe it’s just me that she shows this side of herself to; no one else ever seems to have any problems with her.

“Just seeing your face is an affront,” she sniffs.

“Then go shop somewhere else,” I snap. I don’t have time for this. Normally I’m perfectly happy to exchange biting insults with her in a never-ending battle of wills, but not today. “I’m here for milk, and that’s it. Take your sharp tongue somewhere else.”

Her eyes widen in shock as I turn away. It’s rare that either of us ever walks away from an argument with each other; we’re both stubborn to a fault and never like to be perceived as having backed down.

“No witty comeback,” she sneers at me, recovering quickly. “Too busy to face me, or too much of a coward?”

My eye twitches at the insult but I continue moving away, reminding myself of the phone call I’m waiting for.

“Or, are you too depressed by the loss of your little clubhouse,” Hayley says loudly.

I stop in shock and turn around.

“How the fuck do you know about that?” I demand.

She scoffs, her eyes triumphant. “Grant told me, of course, while the girls and I were in there for drinks the other night.”

Grant… Of course. The man is a great friend, but he’s also the world’s biggest gossip.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” she continues, tossing her head. “After all, you have to go home and cry about your loss, right? Or do you still think you can save that stupid, dinky place?” She sneers. “Not that it’s worth it.”

I don’t have time for this.