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Riptide paused, his amusement fading as he assessed my determination. “It’s too dangerous,” he finally said, a hint of genuine concern creeping into his voice for the first time. “A man was killed.”
My hands on my hips, I just had to laugh at the irony. “And you think I can’t handle dangerous? You thought I was the killer.”
He weighed his options for a moment, then seemed to make a decision. “I thought my men were going,” he conceded, a glint of something unspoken in his eyes as he glanced at his brothers once more. “But I just changed my mind. This… investigation might be more complex than I originally thought. Keeping it more private might be wise.”
The implications of his words, the shift in strategy to a more secluded approach, didn’t escape me. It was an admission of the seriousness of what we might uncover, and a silent acknowledgment of the trust, or perhaps the necessity, of having me by his side. After all, his men were trying to pin Viper’s murder on me.
As we stepped back out into the cool night air, heading towards our Harleys, the realization hit me. This went beyond a mere quest for answers. Deciding to join Riptide on this impromptu investigation felt like stepping into uncharted territory, working with the enemy to clear my name and reuniting with a lost love at the same time. Yet, as we prepared to leave together, a part of me couldn’t deny the excitement of the unknown, of delving deeper into the mystery that had unwittingly drawn us back into each other’s orbits.
Chapter 7
Riptide
The Serpent’s Tail wasn’t exactly where I imagined taking Star, but the night had been full of surprises. Even in the near dark of the strip club, you could see the filth, not just on the sticky floor. Trashy women, low lives from every walk of life, filled every nook and cranny. Music thumped in the background, a bass line so deep it vibrated through the soles of my boots as Star and I made our way through the seedy crowd.
“Over there,” Star’s voice cut through the noise, her finger subtly pointing towards a corner booth.
Took me a sec to spot them, but then I saw one of my brothers, real cozy with a blonde. She was definitely one of Star’s crew, her biker identity muted without her usual cut.
“That’s Cowgirl. What the fuck is she doing with a Slayer?”
The fact that Star was pointing out her own sister to me threw me for a loop. Sure, it ramped up my trust in her, but damn, it made me question her street smarts.
“You get what this means, don’t ya?” I murmured, leading us to a shadowed corner for a private chat. “Calling out one of your own with my brother.” Didn’t mention it was Blade. That detail needed to stay in the dark. “Makes me trust you more, yeah. But it also worries me how open you’re playing this game. Remember, I’m the enemy here.”
Her gaze hardened, a sharp edge in her eyes. “I know what I’m doing, Hudson.”
“I ain’t Hudson, not anymore, Star. I’m Riptide, and I ain’t the good guy here. Shit, I’ve done things that’d make you puke. Got everything I need, what’s to stop me from offing both of you?”
Star’s skepticism was almost comical. “Kill me?” She scoffed, a challenging tilt to her chin. “You feeling suicidal?”
“Your involvement in my brother’s death, it wouldn’t matter who your old man is. Came to the Roost ready to end you.”
She brushed off the threat. “Yeah, right.”
She wasn’t taking me seriously, and that kind of blindness could get her killed. “You don’t know how close I was to pulling that trigger.”
“Without any solid proof?” She shot back, almost laughing. “Listen, Riptide, I ain’t the Star you knew. I’m Biker Brat, and contrary to what you might think, I don’t rely on daddy to clean up my messes. I was this close to taking you down myself, and my sisters were ready to back me up.”
“This ain’t just about that night, dammit,” I growled, frustration peaking. “You’re here, ratting out your sister to me, the enemy. What’s your prez gonna think?”
“I’m not ratting anyone out. We’re after the truth, right? Rage respects our independence. She trusts us to handle our shit.”
Her guts and nerve, I gotta admit, were impressive as hell and kinda scary. “You got that right,” I said, leaning back against the wall, letting the club’s dim light and shadows wrap around us. “And since we’re laying cards on the table, you oughta know there’s some bad shit brewing in my club.” I figured it was time to ditch the club pride and get real. “We got a rat in the ranks, stirring the pot, itching for a throwdown between the Seville Slayers and your Hell on Heelz crew.”
That admission hung in the air like a storm cloud, dark and ominous, over the shaky peace we’d kinda patched together.
She shook her head, eyes on my brother getting cozy with her sister. “He ain’t your problem, trust me. Dude’s head over heels.”
I couldn’t help the bitterness creeping into my tone. “My guys shouldn’t be anywhere near a Heel. We’re supposed to be at each other’s throats.” That bitterness caught me off guard, but even as I said it, the whole messed-up picture was clear as day. Here I was, aching for something more with Star, with Brat, a Heel, my supposed enemy, craving to dive back into whatever crazy thing we had, or could have. The irony was like a punch to the gut.
There she was, right next to me, all grown and tough in ways I hadn’t seen. Experienced in ways I could only guess at. The itch to get close, to find out who she’d become, was damn near overpowering. A craving so fierce, it almost knocked us off track. My gaze kept snagging on her lips, then drifting to her hips, thinking about getting her alone. The idea of having her all vulnerable and under my thumb again had me all hard, needing to shift my stance.
She noticed, and I had to clear my throat.
“The show distracting you?” she teased, nodding towards the half-naked dancers up front.
“Nah,” I grunted, leaning closer to her, my breath catching the scent of her skin. My fingers found their way into her hair, pulling her head back. I was back to being that rough kid from school, and she let out this little sound. I had her where I wanted, and I could tell she wasn’t going to fight me on this.
