Page 10 of Ex-Military Biker’s Bride

“So you understand we have a problem here, brother.” He looks hard at me, then lays his hands flat on the desk. “She's a problem I have to solve. You don’t get to solve it, because any fool can see you’re gone for her…”

“Prez…”

“Did you tell her?”

“No.”

“Keep it that way, Lucky.” He points a pen at me. “Whatever she is to you… not a word. She’s up to something and we don’t know how deep she’s in with Rotmere. Don’t say anything. You know how Rotmere get rid of their problems. A hole in the ground somewhere out in the forest, most likely.”

“Yes, Prez.”

He studies me a second, then nods and tells me to go.

Chapter Five

OLIVIA

Lucky's apartment is out near the hangar and landing strip, in a building he says the MC owns. It’s up an outside staircase, and it tells me more about who he is than anything he’s said out loud to me.

The double bed is made military-style, sheets tight enough to bounce a coin off. It smells of lemon-scented cleaning products and there isn’t a cup out of place. A coffee can of screws and washers sits on the windowsill. There’s a photograph of him with a group of guys in combat gear, taken somewhere hot. It looks like there’s a place for everything and I have the urge to peek inside his closet to see if everything inside is color-coded.

It’s the home of a man who can be gone in five minutes and leave no trace behind.

He sets me down on a stool at the counter and then props my ankle on a second stool.

“It's not much… I guess I’m not good with creature comforts.”

“It's clean.” I take the ice pack he hands me. “Which is definitely more than my apartment is.”

“Apartment? I thought earlier you said motel?”

I freeze for a second, the ice pack halfway to my ankle. I’m getting too comfortable with him, forgetting my own story.

Lucky puts the kettle on while silence fills the room. I have so many questions about the motorcycle club, but I need to be honest with him first, before I start demanding answers.

I set the ice pack down. “Look, I need to show you something. And once I do, I reckon that you're going to have some questions that I can't answer yet.”

“Okay.”

“That's it? Okay?”

“You'll tell me what you’re doing in your own time. I’m a patient man.” He puts a mug down in front of me and leans back against the counter, his arms crossed. "Show me."

I open my laptop. Bethany managed to get it working again when I told her I thought it might have got damp when I was stranded on the ridge.

The Rotmere manifests fill the screen. I have pages of them, scanned and time-stamped, going back five years. All the passenger lists, plus the pilots and crew.

Lucky’s real name, Luke, appears over and over again down the right-hand column. He doesn't move. He reads it carefully, his thumb tapping slowly on the edge of the counter.

“Where did you get these?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.”

He looks straight at me. “Someone on the inside… who'll lose a lot more than a job.”

“That’s right.”

He pulls the laptop around and scrolls. “Show me what’s important about this.”