Page 34 of Biker's Property

The nail file slides between the door and the lock. I push it forward a little, listen until I hear the click and follow the pattern of the lock until I shove it back into the door and it swings away from the frame quietly, as if we’re entering our own house.

“I forgot how fun this could be,” Hunter whispers.

Fatherhood hasto be fucking with his head a little. We spent a summer breaking into houses when we were fifteen. Dad found out when we stole $2,000 from a club member. He was so fucking mad he tied us to a fence, stripped our pants down to our ankles and turned our asses red with a belt, leaving us tied up there for a full six hours.

‘Course by that time, Wyatt and his entire family came down to see the twins with their asses out…

I don’t shareHunter’s fond memories of our short term criminal enterprises. I’m glad we traded up. I step into the house, stunned by the scent. I shouldn’t be shocked that it doesn’t smell like a crime scene, but I didn’t expect it to smell like cinnamon and lemons. We have done this type of shit so many times before that we don’t have to speak to each other or even look at each other to move quietly through the house.

The movement in the kitchen stops once we’re a couple steps away from the doorway. Hawk puts his hand out behind me to stop me from moving. I freeze and we both listen. No breathing.She suspects she isn’t alone.Hawk looks over his shoulder and gestures with his head towards another room which may provide another entrance into the kitchen. I nod and disappear in that direction as he puts his hand on his holster.

When I round the corner, the old woman’s loud, piercing scream causes me to flinch. I hope my brother is smart enough not to put a bullet in Joslin’s mother. Adrenaline courses through me as my brother aggressively commands her, “Put your hands up and don’t make another sound.”

She whimpers and says something in some type of broken English. I nearly trip over some fucking ottoman and don’t catch what she says. It doesn’t feel like I’m walking around Joslin’s home. I know I don’t know her well but… this place doesn’t feel like her. I follow the light once I pass through one room and sure enough, I come up behind Joslin’s mother.

It’s strange seeing her. From behind, she looks just like her daughter – except with long straight hair like an Indian. Dark skin like an Indian too. The kind with the red thing in the middle of their forehead… She doesn’t know I’m there.

“What do you want?” she says, and her English doesn’t sound so broken now that I’m behind her. Hawk knows exactly how to play this. He looks at her like I’m not even in the room and she doesn’t notice my presence. I quietly take in all the details I can while Hawk keeps her engaged in conversation.

“What’s your name?”

She shakes her head and I smell hot piss. I understand why she’s so scared, even if we would never hurt her. Piss will wash away. Much better to scare her quickly and get the information we need rather than prolonging her suffering.

“Maricel Pascubillo.”

“What are you, Mexican?”

I hardly see how that’s the point, but Hawk has her where he wants her and has his curiosity I suppose. The kitchen stands out to me as unusually clean. No signs of a man, so if he’s not dead… he’s somewhere.

“No,” she says. “I’m from the Philippines. Are you in business with Seth?”

There arepapers on the table. Lots of papers. It’s the only thing that’s a damn mess about the room.

“Who’s Seth?” Hawk says.

“The man who owned this house,” she says. “Do you have my daughter?”

Joslin.

Hunter’s eyescatch mine and the minor movement catches Maricel’s attention. She quickly looks over her shoulder and the terror widens her smooth eyelids, as gorgeous and elongated as her daughter’s – distinctively non-European.

“Don’t scream,” I say in a low, gentle voice, hoping it works on her. The giant breath that nearly became a scream sinks into her chest. She glances back and forth between the two of us. She’s doing that thing.

“Twins.”

“Where is Joslin’s husband?”

She knows the man behind her has a weapon trained on her and now that the questions need to get more detailed than introductions, Hunter really doesn’t have a clue what the hell is going on.

“You know Joslin.”

She sounds relieved, but there aren’t too many strong emotions written on her face. Just like Joslin, she doesn’t back down from looking me right in the eye. It’s almost unnerving to have such a small ass woman looking at me with such fearlessness.

“Answer my questions first.”

“He’s dead,” she says, her eyes flickering with anger. I don’t know why she would be angry. Considering everything I heard from Joslin… that sounds like a damned good thing.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I respond flatly.

---