Page 38 of Deceiver

I can feel his heart racing beneath my palm, and as the glass in his hand slips onto the floor and smashes at our feet, I know that he isn’t going to push me away any further. Western isn’t the type to be all affectionate and emotional, so I have to be careful how hard I push. One wrong move and he’ll react like a wounded animal, running for cover. I keep my hand on his chest, but I don’t make any other attempt to touch him.

“I’m going to get you a drink,” I say, carefully.

I remove my hand from his chest and turn, finding a glass that hasn’t been destroyed and pour him a straight whiskey. He takes it when I hand it to him and swallows it in a matter of seconds. I can see that he has a few cuts on his hand, probably from all the glass he’s been tossing around, but otherwise he’s not hurt. I don’t know how many other men were hurt tonight, but I know whatever happened, it is really bad.

“You’re coming with us, Western.”

I glance over my shoulder to see two police officers walking in, their eyes scanning the area, their gazes suspicious. The last thing Western needs right now is to be locked up, and I guarantee that if these officers push him in this state, he’ll flip and do something he regrets. That won’t be good for anyone. “We will answer questions later,” I inform them. “He just lost a friend.”

One officer steps forward, his eyes narrowing. He has a look about him, the kind of look you don’t trust. His eyes are a piercing gray and far too close together. He’s tall, overly skinny, and gives off creeper vibes. I don’t like him, not even a little.

“He’s coming with us, and he’s going to answer them now,” the officer grinds out.

Oh hell no.

Not today, buddy.

I push my shoulders back and walk around the front of the bar, stopping in front of the officer. His name tag informs me his name is Colin. Well, Colin. We’re not playing with you today. “He’ll come and answer any questions you have later when he’s not in shock. If you’d like to push, I’m sure I can find a rule somewhere that states you have no right to bring someone in who is in shock. You either leave, or I’ll make a scene that is going to be plastered all over the news by morning. Which do you want?”

Scowling, Colin glares at me. “I know you. You’ve got quite the name for yourself in this town. You have a lot of enemies, are you sure you’d like some more?”

His little threats don’t scare me.

“A few more can’t hurt,” I say, crossing my arms. “The choice is yours, Colin.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “I’ve heard you’re good at making up stories but you’re not so good at keeping yourself safe.”

“I don’t make them up, I tell the truth. We both know there is plenty for you all to hide. As for my safety, that’s not your concern.”

The officer steps forward, and Western’s voice booms out, echoing through the room. “You fuckin’ take one more step in her direction ...”

Their eyes meet, and I hold my breath.

“We’re not done here, Western. Youwillspeak to us. This isn’t over.”

The way he says that has my blood running hot. It almost sounds like a threat. I don’t trust the officers in this town, and the fact that they got here so quickly is already questionable, let alone the fact that they’re so cocky. Whatever they’re up to, they’re trying to bring the club down with them. I have no proof of that, but my gut is screaming at me that I’m right.

Colin is sketchy, and he most certainly had something to do with the shooting tonight, or at the very least, knows who did.

Turning, Colin nods to the other officer, and they leave. At the door stands Fury, Mex, Viper, and three other bikers, their arms crossed, their eyes on the officers. It might be a crime scene, but they’re not about to let them start trampling around the clubhouse.

“You’ve got a job to do,” Fury grinds out, “I suggest you do it. You will not enter the clubhouse again without a warrant.”

“Someone was murdered here tonight; you don’t think we’re just going to let that go, do you?” Colin smirks.

“I fuckin’ hope not, because someone out there killed my brother tonight, and I can assure you, therewillbe blood,” Fury growls.

Colin tips his head to the side. “Is that a threat?”

Fury steps forward. “It’s a fuckin’ promise.”

Colin keeps moving past the bikers before turning and glancing over his shoulder at Western, a slow grin spreading across his face. Oh, he’s bad news alright.

He goes back to the scene, where they’re taking away the body of Trader in a black bag. My heart drops, and I swallow down the emotion rushing to the surface. Who would do this, and why? I turn and glance back at Western, who is watching me with an expression I haven’t seen from him in weeks. One of admiration and, maybe, just maybe, affection.

Then, he turns and walks out.

I follow him, not wanting to leave his side.

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