Risky and Wild(88)

“Absolutely,” Agent Shelley says as she sits back down and relaxes into the cushions. “And we'll do everything we can to assist you with that. With the extra information you've given us about your attack,” she gestures at Sully, “we might be able to make some connections between Brent's murder and the cartel.”

I can feel Lyric tensing up beside me, but she doesn't let it show. Her poker face is even better than mine. Sully, that motherfucker. The second the agents' gazes are turned, I draw a line across my throat and watch as Lyric's brother swallows nervously. As soon as I can, I'll distract the agents so Lyric can have some time alone with her family, find out what exactly's been said.

“Now, Mr. McBride, am I to understand that if another motorcycle club was in town, that you'd know about it? You haven't said a word about Mile Wide to us. But Sully here, he's just remembered that the men that attacked him were wearing vests with a sunset on the back of them. Sounds an awful lot like that group's logo.”

“Listen, Agent Shelley, the Wolves have never been friends with Mile Wide. You should know that.”

“Right. There was a shooting between your two clubs about ten years ago. Three innocent bystanders were shot and killed.”

“Their bullets, not ours,” I say, vaguely recalling a dark patch in the club's history. I was young, still a hang-around, not in on the secrets of club business. What Agent Shelley's referring to is the time Clayton sent his boys up here to deal under Bill's nose, how he got them all killed.

“But you knew Mile Wide might be trying to establish a foothold in Trinidad? Isn't that against club protocol, Mr. McBride?”

“You seem to know a lot about motorcycle clubs, Miss Shelley.”

“Special Agent Shelley, please,” she says as I let a slow, easy smile simmer across my face. Fuck. We need to get rid of this woman and quick. And her partner? The man doesn't talk, sits there stoic and silent. I don't like him either.

“Special Agent Shelley,” I say, with just a breath of sarcasm, “if you're looking to the Alpha Wolves for the answers to your questions, you're looking in the wrong place. That's all I can tell you.”

The woman sits back, her shaved head and careful makeup giving her an edgier look than I'd expect from an FBI agent. Freaks me the hell out. Edgy. Means she thinks outside the box a little. I blink back at her and watch as she changes the subject with a seamless segue.

“Now, Sully,” the woman says, and I detect a hint of flirtation in her voice, “you were telling us about your tennis game. I don't mean to brag, but I play some mean tennis.”

Lyric and I exchange a look, a wordless word.

Fuck.

Pretty sure that's what's going through both our minds.



Dinner is … well, it's bloody awful.

The dining room is a stuffy, wood paneled room that I'd normally like, but which is covered in pictures of Jesus and lace doilies. Lyric's mother's style, apparently. It's also her style it seems to sit me as far away from her daughter as possible. There's a moment there where I almost mention our engagement, but manage to bite back the words. The only person that would hurt is Lyric.

Conversation is normal, if not a little stilted, while the agents are there. When they leave, looks like it's gloves off. I didn't manage to pull their attention before we sat down, probably a tactic that Agent Shelley planned in advance. Calculating little twat.

“So, what exactly did you tell the agents about your attack, Sully?” Lyric snaps the second the front door is closed and locked behind them. We're sitting around the dinner table eating treacle tarts. It's goddamn stifling in here, exactly as Lyric promised it would be.

“I told them I was attacked by Mile Wide. Isn't that what you wanted?” her brother snaps at her, slamming his fork down on the table. Lyric's sister, that blonde, Kailey, sits silently next to her mother, making a face like a startled Barbie. I cannot wait to get the fuck out of here.

“I …” Lyric pauses and sucks in a deep breath. “You know exactly what you were supposed to do, Sully.”

“That is enough, Lyric,” her mother snaps as she tosses her cloth napkin onto her plate. “Let your father and brother handle this.” Several glances swing my way, all of them hostile as hell.

“Whatever you need to talk about, you talk about in front of him,” Lyric snaps as I try my best not to smile. I imagine that'd only make things worse.

“I'm not going to discuss family business in front of this … in front …”

“In front of your outlaw gangster lover,” Sully mumbles, and I clench my fists tight under the table. First chance I get alone with this motherfucker, and I'm going to beat his arse.