Page 78 of Starting Over

“No,” I said gruffly, wondering why he was asking.

“So she’s a club—”

“Don’t fucking finish that sentence,” I growled.

Shane narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t say anything else. He might be a big motherfucker, and despite his age, could probably kick my ass, but I wouldn’t let anyone talk about Amber like that.

“Let’s get the kids and go,” Vicious said, smacking Shane in the chest with the back of his hand. “We have a long trip.”

“Meant no harm,” Shane grumbled as he followed Vicious. “Woman just looked familiar, that’s all.”

“Everyone looks familiar when you’re old as dirt.”

“Not much older than you, fucker,” Shane snarked. “Just sayin’ she is familiar.”

“I know she is,” Vicious muttered as he looked back at me before he entered the kitchen.

Shaking my head, I rubbed the back of my neck. “I will be glad when I have my clubhouse back.”

“Then you’d better pray Vicious doesn’t say shit, ’cause he fucking remembered,” Jackass whispered as he walked past me toward the kitchen.

I stared down the hallway leading to the kitchen and prayed.

Please God, one goddamn thing at a time.

Chapter Twenty-One

Declan

“Sheriff,” Martha Daniels’ voice called through the intercom connected to my desk phone.

Pressing the button I replied, “Yes, Martha.”

“I have a Dr. August Lansing here to see you.”

“Please have Deputy Norris show him to my office. Thank you, Martha.”

I knew why the man was here, though it still surprised me he made the trip.

Deputy Norris knocked on my door before opening and ushered the doctor to the seat in front of my desk.

At first glance, I didn’t notice anything amiss. However, once I paid attention, I saw that he didn’t lift his feet completely off the floor when he walked, there was a missing button just above where his shirt was neatly tucked into his pants, and his eyes were slightly red-rimmed.

If he wasn’t drunk, then he was in the early stages of withdrawal.

“What can I do for you, Dr. Lansing?”

We sat in my office for over an hour, going over the details of the case I worked almost a month ago. I showed him the abundance of evidence we had against the Livingston couple, who tried to have their daughter held for mental instability. Theyhad shown up here with medical reports signed by Dr. Lansing that had been forged.

“I would like to talk to the girl.”

“You will need to contact the president of the Silver Shadows. Her husband is a patched member; so is her brother.”

“Fucking bikers,” he muttered.

“Dr. Lansing, it was my understanding that you yourself are a ‘fucking biker.’”

“Technically, yes.”

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