Page 22 of Biker's Collar: Property of Scrap

“What kind of gibberish?” Quin asks, perking up again and ignoring my pointed glare. I knew I shouldn’t have allowed her to spend so much time with Tamiya, Juliette, and Anna on those foolish “group calls”. Ryder has the good sense to keep Joslin away from these female schemes, but the more time Quin spends with these questionable influences, the more shefancies herself somewhere between a gangster and a private investigator.

I can tell I’ll have to put a lot more bodies in the ground to keep this woman safe, and I’ll go grey because of it.

Deacon delights in answering her.

"She keeps talking about how there's a Nazi conspiracy, cursed Indian land and when she gets all riled up she keeps repeating 'the desert cult rises'," Deacon says. "Whatever the fuck that means."

"Where did she come from? Did you ask her any questions?"

Deacon looks more upset than embarrassed. "Why would I ask her any questions? I kept telling her to shut the fuck up because I couldn't take all the hollering. She was scaring the other girls."

"Maybe we should talk to her," I suggest to Deacon, although he should have the brains to think of that on his own.

"Talk to her all you want. Take her ass off my hands. Please."

"Where is she?"

"Basement."

"Go get her. Quin and I will wait here."

Deacon shrugs and walks off. I don't want this to turn into too much of a social call. Once he's out of earshot, Quin turns to me with concern.

"I don't think those are random statements," she says. "You should tell Southpaw or whoever the hell is in charge of you people."

"Tell him what? Deacon most likely scared the hell out of her and she started speaking in tongues."

"Neo-Nazi bikers murdered your friends in the desert," Quin says. "We know there's some mess going on with Wyatt Shaw and Oske."

"The desert cult rises? That's some drug addict bullshit. Quin, I know I keep you protected from the world but... some people do heroin."

"You don't know that she does heroin."

I have to hush up instead of answering her because Deacon comes back with a tall, curvy woman with tone shoulders and a warm, honey-toned complexion. Her eyes are a pale shade of brown, pretty set against that skin. She doesn't look crazy. She looks... like she doesn't belong here. Quin and I exchange glances.

Deacon has her restrained with black cloth tying her hands behind her back and silver tape covering her mouth. Her golden-brown eyes wander over me first and then once they get to Quin, she just stares.

My wife becomes her usual nurturing self.

"Don't worry. My husband and I are going to help you."

"I restrained her violent ass for a reason," Deacon says. He looks red-faced, like he had enough trouble getting her up here. The woman might not be short like Juliette or thin like Tamiya, but she doesn't look strong enough to cause a good old boy as strong as my cousin to break a sweat.

"We'll help as long as you listen and trust us," I add. "First, we have to make a stop in Indian territory. You earn privileges with good behavior. Once we're done in Indian territory, we're taking you to Santa Fe."

Her eyes flicker with some strong emotion. Quin steps in, clearly assuming that I scared this woman or something.

"Nobody will hurt you anymore, I promise," Quin says. "If you don't want to trust him, trust me. And in Santa Fe, we're going to meet my best friend Juliette. We're not gonna let anything happen to you."

I clear my throat before Quin promises the woman a brand new Toyota Camry while she's at it.

"The faster we leave, the faster we get there," I tell them. "Let's go."

It's a good sign that she walks away from Deacon on her own.

"I'm warning you," he says. "She's not as demure as she looks. Don't take those binds off unless you want your eyes scratched out."

"Tanner can handle it," Quin says, taking my side so strongly that I no longer worry about my cousin's possible lust for her. "I trust him."

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