Page 53 of Claimed By the Biker Brothers

“It’s been a minute,” Knox says.

Marlo is not alone. There are two gentlemen with her, both wearing expensive, custom-tailored suits. I’d bet money they’re lawyers because her goons are flanking the living room entrance, looking rough and ready to kill us as soon as we make a wrong move. Granted, we have no intention of pulling out a gun here.

“That will be all for now,” Marlo tells her guests, then shakes their hands and watches them leave.

I look at each as they walk past me: middle-aged, filthy rich, hawk eyes. Yeah, definitely lawyers. The five-hundred-bucks-an-hour type. Marlo is brewing something, and she’ll need all the legal defense she can get. I just don’t want us to get caught up in it.

“So, what brings you here?” she asks, looking at Knox with a warm glimmer in her grey eyes.

“Harlan,” Knox replies.

Marlo seems confused, but it’s an act. “What’s that?”

“It’s a who. He’s one of yours apparently.”

I look over to my left where Calvin hovers like a vulture eyeing fresh kill. He hates my guts. Good. I need him furious and out of control. That’s when he makes fatal mistakes. I’m glad to see prison has only exacerbated his weaknesses. The mere fact that he’s here tells me he’s up to something, and the way he approached Robyn requires swift retribution. The beating was just an appetizer.

“I don’t know any Harlan,” Marlo insists, taking a seat. “Please, make yourselves comfortable,” she says and gestures to another leather couch.

“We’d rather not,” Knox says. “Marlo, it’s really simple. A fella named Harlan supplied a couple of drug runners with Rogue Riders MC patches and an original club vest. That brought the DEA to our door, and as you well know, we’ve been out of the drug business for a long time.”

“Whoa, hold on. What are you saying?” She sounds insulted.

Calvin smirks with perverted satisfaction. “He says you’re framing them.”

“I’m not saying anything like that,” Knox says, giving him a cold glare. “I’m simply saying that a man affiliated with Marlo’s family tried to pin a crime on us, and I would very much like to have a chat with the guy. That’s all.”

“Knox, I promise, I don’t know anyone named Harlan,” she insists. “Not among the people I work with directly. Mind you, I don’t make a habit of memorizing everybody’s name. But I’ll tell you what. I can definitely ask around. Maybe we can get to the bottom of this.”

“I was told he’s pretty high up on the food chain,” Knox says.

“We’ve heard the name before,” I add, “in association with the Hughes family and in a different context a while back. Over the years, actually. Harlan is no stranger to you, Marlo.”

“Okay, now I feel like you’re not hearing me.”

Diesel scoffs. “We just don’t have the time or energy to do this bullshit dance. Tell us where we can find him. There’s no chance in hell we’re taking the fall for something one of your people did.”

Calvin intervenes, asking, “Marlo, do you want me to kick them out?”

She gives him a dry half-smile. “No need.”

“You could still try,” I say to tease him. “I’d love to give you a matching shiner on the other eye.”

“It’s not gonna end well for you—”

“What did I say about all this unnecessary dick swinging?” Marlo says, raising her voice.

For a moment, I feel like a kid about to get sent to detention for the rest of the afternoon. Marlo does have a way of commanding attention and respect or perhaps fear from those around her. Personally, I’m not afraid of Marlo. I only dread what she’s capable of if left unchecked.

“Harlan got his hands on an original Rogue Riders vest,” Knox politely reiterates while I keep an eye on Calvin. Part of me wonders what Robyn saw in him in the first place, but then I remember that we thought he was pretty cool in the beginning too. “And I know he’s doing some kind of work for you. Give him up. I’m not interested in anything else, not even whatever this is.”

“This?” she asks.

He motions around us, choosing to specifically nod at Calvin. “Yeah.This.”

“I’m deeply sorry, but I can’t help you,” Marlo says. “You can ask around if you’d like. I certainly will. But I have zero knowledge of anyone named Harlan among my associates.”

“Your associates,” I repeat after her. “What sort of business are you into these days anyway?”

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