Page 5 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

“I need to put a bell on you,” I mutter under my breath, walking to the fridge for coffee creamer. We’re both wearing oversized t-shirts and shorts. She gives me a small, pity laugh and sinks into the kitchen chair at the table, dropping her head into her hands.

I set a full cup of coffee in front of her. She wraps her fingers around it and pulls it to her lips.

“When are you going to ask me?” she asks.

“About?”

“The photos! Come on, Izzy! You okay over there? I know last night was intense, but we got some amazing shots.”

“No. I want to see.” I force my thoughts away from the Riders and focus back on the case.

I sit down beside her, and we both lean in to study the images. It’s mostly the victim’s apartment. Unease settles through me when she scrolls through the images of the marionette doll. Even in photos, it looks as though it’s waiting to come alive as the red paint on its chest sparkles through the screen. My fingers curl around the coffee mug, drawing it to my lips.

“I should’ve grabbed some of the Hellfire Riders,” she mutters under her breath.

“It’s best you didn’t.”

She sighs, lazily nodding her head as she takes a long sip of coffee.

“You’re right, you’re right, who knows what they would’ve done.”

I shiver at the thought.

“It was too dark to see, but I’m pretty sure that was the new president.” She shifts in her seat leaning forward.

“How do you know who their president is?”

“A friend of mine went undercover to get close with them after that one was killed by the cops. He grabbed a few pics.”

“How’d that work out for them?” I ask.

“He’s in witness protection.”

“Great.”

“Check this out,” she says, placing her phone down in front of me. She zooms in on the image of a man.

“He’s the one from last night,” I whisper as I stare at the photo. My heart pounds in my chest. The man staring back looks every bit as dangerous and ruthless as I imagined. His face is harsh, eyes cold and calculating even through the grainy photo.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“Hawk. He’s the new president.”

Tall, drowning in ink that tells more stories than a library, with piercing blue eyes that look like they could cut through steel. Hawk’s hair is a dark and tangled mess, the kind you see on the perfect Prince Charming that you dreamt about as a little kid, except there's nothing gentle about him.

"Jesus," I breathe. "No wonder your friend ended up in witness.”

“He’s a ruthless asshole, and my number one suspect. He’s been on my radar for months. Haven’t had the right information to pin anything on him... until now,” she smirks. “But being at the scene of the crime is pretty telling.”

“What about the others with him?” I ask with hesitation. As though seeing them will change something.

“Glad you asked.” She continues scrolling the next picture, stopping on another man but this one has dark brown eyes and an air of power.

“This one goes by Tank,” she says. The name fits. The man's built like a brick house, all muscle. Sharp, trimmed hair and deep brown eyes that seem to look right through the camera. A jagged scar runs down his temple to the smile where a dark smirk lingers.

“He’s so tall!” I exclaim.

She chuckles, swatting my arm playfully.

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