Holding out my hand, Dutch shakes it firmly. “There are Royal Bastards in England?”
Una laughs. “They’re everywhere.”
“We were sent to oversee a couple of business deals.” His eyes flick to Winchester. “But our business is done, so I’m thinking Una and I will head home as soon as we’re able.”
“Thought you two would want to hang around?” Winchester asks.
“We’ve been here for two weeks, and after this? It’s time for us to get back to home soil.” Dutch places a possessive tattooed arm around Una.
“Gun control in the UK is a hell of a lot better than here, right?”
Una winks at me. “Yes and no.”
A car pulls up, and I watch Reaper and Highway hurry into the clubhouse. “We should get inside.” Winchester holds out a hand to Dutch. “Don’t leave yet. Give it a day or two just to be safe.”
Dutch lets go of Una and shakes his hand. “As you wish.”
Winchester nods solemnly and puts a hand on my elbow, guiding me back inside.
As the clubhouse door closes with a thud, the pungent odor of spilled beer overwhelms me. Winchester is at my side, his eyes scanning the room. I assume he is looking for his VP. First, I see Highway and then Reaper following close behind.
Holding up the envelope, I extend it to Reaper. “These are for you.”
Reaper looks me up and down, then takes it out of my hand. “Are you okay? When you weren’t at home…” He glances at Highway. “Well, we were worried.”
“Sorry, there was a communication breakdown.” I give Winchester a sideways look. “And I thought you’d want these sooner rather than later.”
Highway frowns. “We have no fucking idea who’s gunning for us, and you decide to come here by yourself?”
Taken aback by his tone, I reply, “Yes, I did. Hell, you lot let me drive homealonein one of your MC’s trucks.Ifsomeone was gunning for youandwatching you, did it occur to you they may have followed me?”
Highway cocks his head to the side and stares at me, barely controlled anger rolling off him in waves.
“She has a point,” chimes in Winchester.
Reaper holds up the envelope. “Enough.” He slaps Winchester on the shoulder. “She’s fine, and we have the photographs. Let’s take a look.”
The three men walk into a room, the one reserved for church.Aware of my status as an outsider, I’m conscious that entry is off-limits to me under normal circumstances.
Reaper turns and points at me. “Are you coming?”
His unexpected invitation momentarily throws me. Seizing the moment, I quicken my pace to join them, driven by curiosity and anticipation. The door swings open to reveal a large wooden table with the MC logo carved into its center. Chairs are arranged all around it, standing sentinel. My initial rush of excitement gives way to a hint of anticlimax. After all the secrecy and the strict boundaries set around this room, I had half-expected more. Something clandestine, perhaps. Yet here it stands, a simple meeting room.
“What?” asks Reaper as he stares at me.
With a quick smile, I reply, “Nothing.”
He frowns and then sits at the head of the table with Highway and Winchester sitting on either side of him. Without saying a word, Highway pulls out the chair next to him, indicating I should sit there.
“Thank you,” I say as I take my place at the table.
Reaper pulls out the photographs, stares at each one, hands them to Winchester, who passes them to Highway, and finally to me. No one speaks as they study the images before them. I’m waiting for the last picture. This one is the most blurry, but it is a close-up of one of the shooters.
“Fuck,” mutters Reaper, his gaze fixed on the indistinct figure captured in the image before he tosses it to Winchester.
“Motherfuckers.” Winchester’s lips form a tight line as he slides it across the table to Highway.
“I’m sorry the image isn’t clearer. I was hoping you might know who he is?”
