Tilly 22.
Wilson leads me by the hand into the room used as Church. A formidable solid door gives way to a cavernous room with the largest wooden table I’ve ever seen, the liberty bell skull burned into the center. Seats surround the table, and a large projection screen occupies an entire wall, an elaborate computer set up in one corner.
We appear to be the last to enter, the entirety of the club watching us with varying expressions of disinterest to amusement. Buchanan starts a slow clap and I feel my cheeks burn.
“She’s even walking funny, brother. Good for you.” Wilson growls while Polk slaps Buchanan on the back of the head.
There are two empty seats at the opposite end of Madison’s seat. Wilson pulls out one chair for me, pushes me closer to the table, and moves past me with a gentle squeeze of my shoulder. He rounds the table and steps behind Buchanan. Fast as lightning, Wilson places Buchanan in a headlock and leans down to his ear as the big man struggles.
“I know damn well your mama taught you better than that. Speak of my Ol’ Lady like that again and I will make sure your family line ends with you.” I drop my chin to my chest and clasp my hands beneath the table. That was hawt and unnecessary and did I mention hawt? I know Buck didn’t mean anything by it, just joking around. While it was a little embarrassing to be called out like that, it made me feel like one of them. However, Wilson can defend my honor anytime…then strip it bare and fuck it like an animal.
Whooey. Sorry about that. Did it get hot in here? I don’t think I can discreetly fan myself so I just stare at my hands and will the flush from my skin.
“Don’t look at me like that, son, you brought this on yourself. Your mama will mourn the dream of grandchildren, but she’ll get over it.” Madison tells his son, then bangs his gavel. “We have ourselves an unusual situation here, brothers. The charity gala on Saturday went very well. Raised a lot of money…money that was stolen along with all the items that were up for auction. Items we donated. Wilson and Tilly were arrested by the FBI; however, Lincoln was able to get the charges dropped for now. We are on a time crunch to figure out what really happened, find the money and the items. With Tilly’s help, Lincoln, Pierce, and Fields—” Lincoln clears his throat loudly, staring wide eyed at his president. Madison rolls his eyes with a sigh. “And of course, Kadisha. She’s proven instrumental as always in ensuring justice prevails.”
“Thank you, Madison.” A female voice sounds from a small speaker in the center of the table, the men muttering under their breath. “I do what I can.”
“As I was saying, they compiled a comprehensive timeline, with all the key players, ran extensive background checks, and this is what we know so far.” The big projection screen lights up and image after image pops up. Driver’s License photos, security footage stills, Aged Barrel Bank documentation, and more. I’m blown away by the amount of information they’ve found and the organization of it all. I’m too busy admiring their ingenuity so I miss the first bit of the explanation. But something catches my attention.
“Wait, sorry. Go back. Who are you talking about?”
Fields’s strong brow furrows as he turns to me. His bushy red beard is distracting. It’s so pretty. A pinch to my inner thigh has me scowling at Wilson. He’s scowling right back, and I guess he caught me. I shrug, then meet Fields’ eyes. With a grin, he explains, “Dale Rawson.”
“Okay…” I trail off because I’m seriously confused right now.
Fields taps on his handheld tablet and a red circle appears around a Driver’s License photo. I stare at it for a second, tilt my head to the left, then the right. “Dale Rawson.” He repeats like that’s supposed to help me.
“That’s not Dale Rawson.” I stand up and walk closer to the projection screen. I point at the image and glance back at Fields then Wilson. “That isn’t Dale Rawson.” Now, I sound like Fields. “That isn’t the man I was working with.”
“Fields, pull up the security footage of the venue.” Madison barks. A few seconds later a grainy image appears next to the license photo. The entire room is silent for an uncomfortable minute as they play “Spot the Difference”. Then Barkley stands up fast, his chair skidding back, and jabs a finger in the direction of the screen.
“That’s not Dale Rawson.” I rush over to the table and reach across to high-five Barkley. He shakes his head fondly and smacks his hand against mine.
“That’s what I’m talking about.” I cheer, then awkwardly shuffle on my feet. “I mean, thank you Barkley.”
Ford slaps his hand against the table, “I don’t get it. It’s two pictures of the same man.”
“This man,” I say indicating the license, “seems warm, friendly, and the type of guy who would provide security for a charity like Building A Village. This one,” I point at the security footage, “is like Wish.Com’s version of that guy.” Ford’s brows slant in confusion. “Also, the man I met has a mole next to his mouth.”
Ford’s eyes dart back and forth between the pictures before nodding. Several brothers chuckle at his reaction, clearly seeing what I do too. Ford doesn’t see it, but that doesn’t matter, the rest of us do.
Pierce grunts, tapping on his tablet. “Eric Rawson. Dale’s cousin on his father’s side. History of larceny and petty theft with three outstanding warrants for his arrest in Tennessee, Georgia, and Louisiana.” He glances up at Madison, “Prez, I think we need to send someone to Dale’s address to check it out.”
Madison nods, looking at Lincoln. “Mr. Lawyer Man, do we notify the FBI of our findings? Or dig a little deeper first?”
Linc thinks about for a second, “That’s Mr. Sexy Lawyer Man, thank you. Notify Lomax of Eric Rawson’s identity and have a couple of brothers meet them at Dale Rawson’s address. They might not have enough to enter, but we can…so long as I have in writing they won’t press any charges for breaking and entering.”
Madison and Linc hold each other’s gaze for a long minute. “Make it happen.” Linc pulls out his phone, types something, then puts it to his ear. As he talks with Special Agent Lomax, Madison calls out to Pierce. “I want Dale and Eric Rawson’s phone records and data. I want to know who Eric’s been talking to. He didn’t pull this off alone.”
This is the most fun I’ve had with my clothes on in a long while. Watching the brothers work as a unit is fascinating. It’s easy to forget I was arrested just a couple of days ago.
Lincoln puts his phone on the table and dips his chin to Madison. Biker Man speak that must mean it’s done, because Madison taps his fingers on the table, before speaking, “Barkley, McKinley, Clay, and Adams. I want you to meet the FBI at Dale Rawson’s home. Fields, how far away does he live?”
“It’s about a 5-hour ride from here.”
“Prez, Lomax said it will take a few hours to mobilize a unit. He’ll call when he’s leaving Louisville.”
“Brothers, get ready to leave. The rest of you, sit tight until we have something more to go on. Don’t go far from the clubhouse, though. We don’t know who’s behind this, but we know they went to great lengths to frame Wilson and Tilly.” He bangs the gavel loudly. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Wilson laughs as he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me flush to the front of his body. “You look like a kid in a candy store right now.”
“That was awesome. I know I’ve told you guys everything I know, but I want to be involved, please. Don’t leave me out.”
Wilson’s gaze is sympathetic, “That’s not my decision, baby.”
On tiptoes, I kiss the line of his freshly shaved jaw. “I’ll go ask Betty what Madison’s favorite dessert is so I can butter him up.”
“Devious woman. Baked goods isn’t fighting fair.” He pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my face up. I pucker in anticipation, and he doesn’t disappoint. His lips slide over mine easily, before his tongue licks the seam of my mouth. I open for him eagerly, taking everything he gives me and wanting more.
With a contented sigh that begins in my soul, I pull back from his drugging kisses. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”