Page 34 of Beautiful Ruins
“I thought that was the point?” I said, my defences rising out of habit.
She sighed, her expression halfway between exasperation and amusement.
A smile tugged the corners of my lips, one I couldn’t help. “I suppose I don’t really have a choice then, do I?”
“Not really,” she said, her face serious. It lasted all of five seconds before she grinned at me as though no time had passed between us at all. And for a second, it really did feel like we were seventeen again, before the silence and the bruises. She leaned back, dipping her head, then pointed at my mouth. “And you better fix those chapped lips, too. You look like you’ve been chewing on a cheese grater.”
“I guess I’m already in too deep, huh?” I said, shaking my head.
That was the thing about Jasmine—letting her help meant more than a makeover. It meant letting her back into the wreckage.
Chapter Ten
ROWAN
Someone cleared their throat, the sound echoing around my small garage. All I wanted was some peace and fucking quiet. If it wasn’t the club with their endless bullshit, or Sadie with her impossible demands, it was someone else creeping up on me. I was always in high demand, whether or not I liked it.
I pulled my arms out from the car engine I’d been using to distract myself from all thoughts of Sadie and turned the dial down on the old beaten-up battery radio by my feet.
“John.” I wiped my grease-covered hands on the rag tucked into the waistband of my jeans. His eyes were sharp, his mouth set into a hard line. That cop poker face hadn’t aged a day. “You got news for me about the stolen parts?”
It wasn’t every day I got a personal visit from the chief of police. His visits were usually last resorts, reaching out when everything else was falling apart at the seams. Or, when he needed a favour, and the Riders were the easiest pick. It went both ways, though, and if he was showing up here empty-handed, then we were going to have a problem.
He shook his head, his eyes darting around the garage like he was waiting for an ambush. “Afraid not,” he said, lowering his voice as he stepped closer, his hand resting on the gun in his holster. The dust on the concrete floor rose up around his worn black boots, then settled again as he remained in place. Did he think he was going to need that gun? Barrenridge wasn’t the fucking Wild West, no matter how much he liked to pretend otherwise. Fucking hilarious, if he didn’t look so serious about it. “We have a bigger problem.”
A bigger problem? If he was referring to his daughter, then he would have been correct—she was a right thorn in my side. I just hadn’t worked up the nerve to yank her free yet. Wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to. She’d left a hole in me before, and that sort of pain didn’t just disappear. It grew teeth and bled you dry.
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” I shoved a crate into place with my boot and snatched up a half-empty water bottle from the workbench. I lifted an eyebrow as I finished the contents and swiped my wrist across my mouth.
My gaze flicked past him for a second, my focus landing on the empty driveway in front of his house. Sadie’s car was still missing. She’d left about two hours prior. I’d been hidden behind the engine for her to notice me. Still, she never even glanced over as she hopped into her car and sped off, kicking up red dirt behind her.
She’d obviously still been pissed at me for kicking her out of my room the previous night. Suppose I couldn’t blame her. But hell if I could stop thinking about her. If I hadn’t asked her to leave when I had, God knows what would’ve happened. She was pushing me to the edge, and I bet she wouldn’t have looked back when I finally slipped.
John sighed, dust motes swirling between us as he hookedhis thumbs into the top of his black belt. “Is it safe to talk here?” He almost whispered the words.
I didn’t much trust the quiet, either. Or maybe John just didn’t trust me.
“Do you see anyone else here?” I said, throwing my arms up. “Just get to the point, John. There are no ears here. Only mine and yours.”
Jaw tight, he glanced over his shoulder once again, then cleared his throat. “Right.” He rubbed at his forehead. “Well, we found a partial fingerprint on the murder weapon from the Stone and Hughes case. One belonging to a club member.”
His words landed like a wrench to the temple—blunt, messy, and impossible to ignore. “The cult murders?” My frown deepened, unease crawling down my spine. John nodded, slow and deliberate. “Who?”
“Anthony Robinson.”
My eyebrows shot up, the weight of that information sinking onto my chest. “Snake?” At first, it was shock that had me scrubbing a hand down my face, but then I realised I could use this situation to my advantage. John had just made my day, and he didn’t even know it. “And why are you telling me? Aren’t you Iron’s little lapdog?”
Why had John come to me? That was Iron’s territory and John was risking everything he’d built with the President of the Ridge Riders by keeping this from him.
John gave me a look, the kind that said he knew exactly what kind of reaction he was about to get. My words had hit him where I intended.
He stepped closer again, invading my space with a quiet urgency. “You’re the only one I trust with this right now. But you know what this means, Rowan.” His voice was a harsh whisper. “I’m going to have to bring him in for questioning. If the club is selling weapons to the cult?—”
I cut him off with a sharp wave, my chest tightening. “It’s not. I would know if that were the case. Could you have made a mistake?”
Or Snake, the filthy bastard, was, in fact, doing us dirty. He always had a smug grin and too many secrets. Wouldn’t surprise me if he’d been hustling behind our backs for years. He just finally left a damn fingerprint.
John sniffed and shook his head. “I ran it three times, Rowan. It’s no mistake.”
