Knox moved closer to her side. “Want another beer? I can give you a ride home.”
Diamond saw where this way headed and put a stop to it. “No, thanks, I’ve had enough.”
When she would have jumped down from the stool, Knox leaned forward, placing his hand on the stool between her thighs. Diamond froze in place. If she moved forward an inch, her mound would be up against his hand.
“I think you should stay and party with us. We can show you a good time.” His finger slid forward and she felt Knox trace the cleft of her pussy underneath her jeans. Shocked at his blatant move, she was unable to stop the shudder which shook her body.
His eyes narrowed on her and his tongue came out to moisten his lips, which caused Diamond’s eyes to fall onto the metal ball on his tongue. Her hands then reached out to clasp his wrist and jerk it away from between her thighs.
“If you don’t move your hand, I’m going to drop your case and keep the half million that Viper owes me without giving a damn that your ass will be sitting in jail for a crime you didn’t commit.”
Knox removed his hand, standing back up straight to lean back against the bar. He picked up his beer and took another drink. “How do you know I didn’t kill Sam?”
Diamond was aware that Rider had come to stand on her other side, motioning to Mick for a drink. When Mick gave him his beer, Rider remained, obviously listening to their conversation.
Diamond planned to get her revenge on his touchy feely moment.
“I drove through the neighborhood you crashed your bike in before I came here today. It’s a shortcut to the road that leads out here then to the clubhouse, so I know why you were on the road.”
“So I was taking a shortcut? What the fuck does that have to do with me killing Sam?”
“I couldn’t understand how you wrecked your bike on such a little road with barely any traffic. I saw by the skid marks you obviously crashed to avoid hitting something.”
Knox shrugged. “So, a car pulled out in front of me.”
“Nope. There was no parking where you wrecked and it’s a one lane road. As I sat, trying to think how such an experienced rider had wrecked, I saw several interesting things.”
Knox stiffened, throwing Rider a dirty look. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
“Not right now. This sounds too good to miss. You never did tell me how you busted up your bike.”
“Fuck off,” Knox said, taking a drink of his beer while glaring at Diamond.
Rider’s grin widened as he took a seat on the stool next to her.
“I saw a beautiful neighborhood filled with older homes that had an abundance of trees. The yards also had several squirrels. I think you swerved to miss a squirrel. You couldn’t kill Sam if you wrecked your bike to prevent killing a squirrel.”
“I didn’t wreck my bike to keep from hitting a fucking squirrel.” His red face showed he was lying.
Diamond burst out laughing. “You’re a marshmallow.”
“You actually wrecked your bike to keep from killing a squirrel?” Rider said in disbelief.
“No, I didn’t,” Knox barked back sharply.
“You fucking did.” Rider burst into laughter.
“Marshmallow.” Diamond nodded her head at Rider.
“I am not a fucking marshmallow!” Knox yelled as he slammed his beer down on the bar.
“You better go; the marshmallow is about to explode,” Rider joked.
Diamond grinned back. “I’m going.” Siding off the stool, this time Knox didn’t stop her leaving as Rider continued antagonizing Knox.
She got in her car, her laughter dying as soon as the door slammed, incasing her in safety.
Her body was in turmoil from Knox’s brief touch. How he had managed to excite her from a brief stroke defied her imagination. He was the typical biker, which she despised, yet her body hadn’t cared, wanting more. Diamond had to be very careful. She had seen the recognition in his eye at her response. Knox wasn’t as stupid as she’d thought. He wasn’t such a marshmallow that he wouldn’t take advantage of her attraction then leave her wanting more.
Chapter Eight
Far too early the next morning, her cell phone woke her from a deep sleep.
“Hello?” Diamond said drowsily into the phone.
“Ms. Richards?” Diamond easily recognized the sheriff’s voice. Her drowsiness disappeared at the tone in his voice.
“Yes, what’s happening?” The sheriff had never called her before; he must have found her number in the contact information on Knox’s paperwork when he had been released from jail.
“The state police received a call, giving information about jewelry that was in Samantha Bedford’s possession when she was murdered. They are about to serve a search warrant on The Last Riders in thirty minutes. If you hurry, you should make it when they get there.”