Page 5 of King's Reckoning
"Just studying technique," she recovered smoothly. "Learning from the best and all that."
He snorted. "Somehow, I doubt you need lessons in surveillance." At her sharp look, he added, "You've got training written all over you.The way you move, the way you check corners. Someone taught you well."
Rowan filed that away. Reed was more observant than she'd given him credit for. "A girl's got to know how to take care of herself."
"That what brought you to the Blind Jacks? Looking for someone to take care of you?"
"I take care of myself," Rowan said coldly. "Have since I was old enough to understand nobody else was going to."
They reached the small graveyard that occupied the far corner of the property. Every MC had one—a final resting place for fallen brothers. Rowan knew from her research that several of the graves belonged to members killed in the war with the Seven Devils MC five years ago. The morning mist clung to the headstones, giving the scene an otherworldly quality.
Reed's flashlight beam swept across the rows of markers, then stopped. "Shit."
Rowan followed his light. One of the graves had been disturbed, the earth churned up and the headstone pushed askew. As they got closer, she could see that something had been digging at the plot. Or someone. The disruption was too methodical for animal activity.
"Third one this month," Reed said grimly. "Someone's got a real interest in our dead brothers." His voice hardened. "And they're going to regret it."
They documented the damage, Reed taking photos while Rowan helped straighten the headstone. As she brushed dirt from the engraved name, she recognized it—Michael "Flash" Thompson, one of the brothers killed in the Seven Devils war. Her research had turned up newspaper articles about the conflict, but they'd been frustratingly light on details.
"He was one of our most loyal brothers," Reed said quietly. "Close friend to both Darkness and King. Died saving others during the Devils' ambush. They took it hard, especially King. The whole club changed after that."
Rowan's throat tightened. Another piece of the puzzle that was Marcus King, another hint at what had shaped him into the man who could walk away from his family without a backward glance.
"What's different about this grave?" she asked, noting Reed's particular interest in this disturbance.
His eyes narrowed. "What makes you think there's anything different about it?"
"The way you're looking at it. The fact that you came straight here instead of checking the other graves first. This one matters more."
Reed was silent for a long moment. "Flash was carrying something when he died. Something important. It was buried with him—club tradition." His eyes locked onto hers. "Someone knows that. Someone's been talking."
The sun was breaking over the horizon when they finished documenting the scene. Reed's phonebuzzed with a message. "Garage needs help with a repo. Think you can handle a wrench, prospect?"
Rowan allowed herself a small smile. This, at least, was familiar territory. "I might know my way around an engine."
The garage was already busy when they arrived, the air thick with the smell of oil and hot metal. Darkness was supervising as two prospects struggled with a stubborn transmission. The club president had been instrumental in building the garage into a legitimate business for the club. His reputation as a mechanic was one of the reasons she'd chosen this chapter to infiltrate.
"Reed." Darkness nodded to his Road Captain. "Brought me some fresh help?"
"Prospect says she knows her way around an engine." Reed's tone was neutral, but Rowan caught the undercurrent of challenge.
Darkness's eyes narrowed as he studied her. She could almost see him putting pieces together—her arrival, her claim about King, her mechanical knowledge. But he simply pointed to a Harley up on blocks.
"Primary drive's shot. Show me what you can do."
Rowan tied her hair back and got to work, letting muscle memory take over. Her mother had made sure she could handle any mechanical challenge an MC might throw at her. Elena Matthews might have left the life, but she'd never stopped preparing her daughter to return to it.
She was elbow-deep in the Harley's guts when she felt someone watching her. Looking up, she found Darkness studying her technique with unconcealed interest.
"Your mom teach you that too?" he asked quietly.
Rowan's hands stilled for a fraction of a second. "What makes you think that?"
"The way you handle tools. That's old school technique, stuff they don't teach anymore. Stuff I learned from guys who aren't around these days." His eyes met hers. "Guys like King, back when he was just a prospect."
Before she could respond, the garage's radio crackled. "Trouble at the gate. Unknown vehicles, multiple occupants."
Reed was already moving. "With me, prospect. Time to earn your place."
