Page 25 of Bones

“Great.”

He walked over and opened the passenger side door, then waited for me to get inside. Once I was settled, he closed the door, then got in next to me. As soon as we were both buckled in, Ben started the car, and we were on our way. We hadn’t been riding long when he turned to me and asked, “How the hell did a girl like you end up living at the Satan’s Fury clubhouse?”

“Remember me telling you that some friends helped me out when my parents died?” He nodded. “Well, they are the friends. I had no place to go, and they took me in.”

“Your parents died just before you turned eighteen, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“So, you’ve been living there for six years?”

“I have.” I could tell by his tone that he was struggling with the idea, so I added, “I know they didn’t make a very good impression, but I promise, they’re really good guys. They gave me a place to stay and looked out for me.”

“You didn’t have any family or friends who could’ve taken you in?”

“No, I had no one. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without them.”

“I see.”

Our conversation trailed off when we pulled up to the pizzeria. But as soon as we were inside and seated, Ben started in with more and more questions—some of which I wasn’t sure how to answer. “So, they just took you in.”

“Pretty much.”

“Hmm.” He seemed perplexed by the thought, so I wasn’t surprised when he asked, “How well do you know them?”

“Well enough, I guess.”

“Okay, then, what’s their story?” He took a sip of his beer, then asked, “What are they into?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Is it just drugs, or are they running guns, too?”

“What makes you think...”

“Oh, come on, Elsie. Don’t act like you don’t know,” he scoffed. “You live under the same roof. You gotta know they aren’t just riding bikes. These guys are into some pretty heavy shit.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously? You’re gonna tell me you haven’t heard the rumors about them?”

“I have.” I leaned back in my chair as I added, “But rumors are just rumors. Nothing more.”

“But they’re not just rumors.” I didn’t like his condescending tone. And I really didn’t like when he said, “They’re facts.”

“You know, I think it might be best that we end things here.”

“What?” His brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“This date is over.” I stood and placed a twenty on the table, paying for my part of the meal. “I’ll find my own way home.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” When I turned and started for the door, he shouted, “Elsie, wait! I’m sorry!”

His apology came too little too late. He’d crossed a line—a line I didn’t even know existed, and I no longer cared what he had to say. I rushed to the bathroom and locked the door, then messaged Lacy, asking her to come and pick me up.

Fifteen minutes later, I received a text message that read-

I’m here-

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