Page 227 of Come Back to Me

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ll be back in this truck in ten minutes and we’ll pick out whichever crystals you want.”

I gulp. “I should have given you one for good luck.”

Something gleams in his eyes. “You make your own luck in this world, my sweet girl.” He snags my hand, lifts my knuckles to his lips, and gives them a kiss. “Lock the door behind me.”

Like a bunch of teenagers, the bikers hoot and make smacking noises, but Cody’s indifferent as he climbs out of the truck and shuts the door. He doesn’t move until I hit the lock. Only then does he amble around the fender and lean against it. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

How does he sound calm? He doesn’t even look angry or scared—he’s justblank.

I hate it, but somehow, I know that’s when he’s at his most dangerous.

Suddenly, I’m not scared for him but for the bikers!

(Cops can’t go to jail if they kill someone who’s threatening them, right?)

Heart racing, I tune in as one of the men strolls toward Cody.

When he sticks out his hand, my eyes bug.

“I’m—”

“Filch,” Cody inserts, hand outstretching to take the biker’s. “I know who you are. Made it my business to.”

“See, what we’re real curious about is what’s going on with Razer. He comes back to the clubhouse like nothing fucking happened. Like his brat didn’t murder someone after snitching to the fucking pigs and he didn’t shoot Kit in the goddamn head.” Filch’s chin juts out. “That pissed off a lot of people. We get saving your skin, we get saving one of our kids, but the skin of a fucking rat? Nah. We don’t sacrifice brothers for rats.”

“WhereisRazer?” Cody questions, arms folding across his chest.

“You were seen talking to him. Outside the station.”

“I’m sure I was. The fucker talked his way out of a double murder and possession charges. I couldn’t question him because the RCMP took over the case before I had a chance to grill him.”

Filch’s eyes narrow. “Whoareyou?”

I can’t stop myself from hollering, “He’s killed more people than you, that’s who!”

Cody whips around to glower at me. “Shut up, Tee.”

“You going to kill a decorated war hero?” I snipe.

“We ain’t killing no pigs. Never can get the smell of bacon out your hair.” Filch raises his hands in a show of surrender. “All we want is to know the lay of the land.”

“And why are you asking me? The RCMP took over the case. I’m just the chief of the Marshal Service.”

“The rat snitched to you, didn’t she?”

Cody straightens. “‘The lay of the land’ is that we’re filing for civil forfeiture on your bar.”

“That’ll take years,” he sneers.

“Whatever—you’d be dumb as fuck if you kept the bar up and running. You think we won’t be sniffing around you if you so much as fart? For whatever goddamn reason, you opened a bar on my turf. That reason’s gone and I expect you to fuck off.”

“Now, wait a minute?—”

“I know you were using a part of my family’s property to grow weed, and I understand losing access to that pissed you off, but it’s tough shit. The RCMP is sniffing around and they’re not about to stop until they find more than Razer to throw the book at.

“I can tell you Razer didn’t rat anyone out. I can tell you that everything he did, he blamed on Faulkner?—”

“Whyareyou telling us this?” Filch demands as he lights a cigarette.

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