Shakedown (Souls Chapel Revenants MC 8)

She wasn’t my fiancée, was she?

The moment that she said that she was, memories started to flicker to life. Ones of a certain bar just a few days ago where we’d officially ‘met’ again as adults.

Even if I couldn’t remember the last few weeks—at least, what felt like a few weeks anyway just a few short minutes ago—I would remember a soon-to-be wife.

“And did you see anything in the park when you arrived?” the second officer asked.

Belle’s attention moved to him. “No. We got there, got his bike, and left. That was the only time we were separated. Then he was hit by a car.”

“He was hit by a panel van, and witnesses say that this joker used his own body and bike to help another van with what looked to be six terrified kids get away,” the second officer pushed.

Belle looked up at the ceiling. “Yes, and there’s only one man in three hundred and twenty-eight million people that rides a bike in the United States.”

“It’s just a coincidence that a man riding a bike was hit by a van? That my witnesses didn’t see what they thought they saw?” the officer all but snarled.

Belle’s back stiffened.

“Actually,” she said stiffly, “this particular county is hopping with not one, but two motorcycle clubs. The Uncertain Saints MC are but a forty-five-minute drive away, and then there are the Souls Chapel Revenants MC. Both motorcycle clubs bring carry-ons and would-be prospects as well as bikers far and wide that just want to be around a motorcycle club because it’s ‘cool.’ So no, I do not find it odd that a van hits a motorcycle. Especially when I can go out into the parking lot and hit about ten of them with a fresh loogie. And trust me, my dad tried for years to get me to learn how to spit. It didn’t stick. So I can’t spit very far. Just sayin.’”

The ‘bad cop’ as I’d dubbed him glared.

The ‘good cop’ who’d stayed quite quiet throughout all of this smiled.

The doctor came in moments after the word ‘loogie’ came out of Belle’s mouth.

He took a look around and frowned.

“I agreed to help you if you kept his blood pressure and his anxiety level down. He sustained a head injury. One that still could require surgery. I’ll expressly ask you to leave now,” the doctor growled.

Growled.

I liked that.

I had no clue who he was, but he wasn’t intimidated by the cops or me.

Because the moment they left, he turned and glared.

“And, just fuckin’ sayin’, if you’re complicit in the kidnapping of children, I’ll fuckin’ end you myself,” he snarled.

I read his nametag.

Blunt.

Now that was fuckin’ fitting.

Without another word, he glared at me. Then at Belle. Then left.

Belle snickered. “Dang, that was almost as bad as when my dad thought Bourne and Booth were stealing his beer and weren’t telling him.”

“Who was stealing his beer?” I asked the most important question on the tip of my tongue.

She pointed at herself. “Me. I wanted to see what it tasted like at first. Then I decided that I liked it. He should’ve switched to dark beer and I wouldn’t have drunk it anymore.”

I frowned. “How old were you?”

She smiled. “Fourteen.”

I shook my head, trying to clear it.