Matlock (Silver Shadows MC #10)

Chapter One

Simon

The ringing of the phone woke me from my dream, and I groaned. It was the same dream I’d been having for years. The quiet, brooding biker had his hand wrapped around my cock as he whispered filthy things in my ear. I’d been so close to the finale.

Now I lay in my bed, my dick tenting the sheet, debating whether I should throw the phone across the room when it stopped. Just as I rolled over to go back to sleep, it started ringing again.

I turned on the light and looked at the clock. It was three AM. I didn’t need to be at the salon until ten, and whoever was calling at this ungodly hour was in for an ass-chewing, and not the good kind.

Grabbing the phone, I saw my sister’s name flash across the screen. Now I was up and awake, my dick completely deflated as I answered.

“What happened?”

“Simon,” she sobbed into the phone.

I put it on speaker and started grabbing my clothes to get dressed. “Tell me what happened, Sadie.”

“I-I think he’s... I think he’s dead.”

I froze with my pants midway up my thighs and stared at the phone on my bed.

“Simon?”

“I’m here. Don’t do anything. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

“I’m scared, Simon.”

“Baby sister, listen to me. Don’t touch anything. I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me.”

I quickly got dressed as Sadie told me what happened. How her boyfriend had come home drunk, smelling like perfume. She’d asked him about it, and he’d lost his shit.

Again.

Sadie met Alan Sanders eighteen months ago and fell head over heels for him. He’d said he felt the same way. But it didn’t take long before he started beating the crap out of her.

It started with words. When she did something he didn’t like, he called her names. Told her she was worthless and stupid. That went on for months. But she wouldn’t leave him.

Then it escalated.

She started showing up at the salon we owned with bruises. Nothing blatant. The son of a bitch knew what he was doing. The only reason I’d noticed was... well, the truth was, I hadn’t noticed; a client had.

Sadie was washing Beatrice Allen’s hair when her sleeve rode up, and the old bat gasped. Sadie tried to laugh it away, but Beatrice, never one to stay out of anyone’s business, refused to accept Sadie’s excuses.

And neither did I.

Alan had swept my sister off her feet. Only to hold her hostage in a toxic relationship she thought she deserved. Sadie was beautiful, but she wasn’t thin. She had light brown hair, which she referred to as mousy, and her thighs were a little thicker than most of the women in town.

But men flirted with her everywhere she went. I never understood why her self-esteem was so low. She’d been ripe for the picking when she met Alan, and he love-bombed her until she believed he was in love with her.

You didn’t hurt people you loved. Not intentionally, anyway. It was unrealistic to think you would never hurt the person you love. Tony hurt me all the time by ignoring me. The man was so far into the closet he was living in fucking Narnia.

This is not about you, Simon!

No, this was about Sadie. I pulled up in front of Alan’s house. The neighborhood was quiet as I parked on the street. I wanted my car to be seen. I wanted people to know I was here.

I walked up to the front door and tried the doorknob. It twisted easily in my hand, and when I stepped into the house, my breath caught in my throat.

My dear sweet, lovable sister Sadie was sitting on the floor, a knife in her hands. Her boyfriend, Alan, was on the floor in the kitchen, blood pooling around him.

He lay on his stomach, with a dozen or more stab wounds covering his naked back. My sister, who had bruises on her face, was no longer crying. Blood-soaked streaks stained her face, her eyes lifeless as she stared at the wall.

I kneeled on the floor in front of her, unconcerned about getting blood on my clothes.

“This is what you are going to do. First, give me the knife.” I held my hand out to her, and she looked up at me, hesitating.

“Simon—”

“Give me the knife, Sadie.”

She looked at the weapon in her hands and then back at me. Slowly, she lifted the knife and let me take it from her. I set it on the floor beside her and helped her to her feet.

“Do you have clothes here?” She nodded. “Okay, go take a shower and change. Put the clothes you’re wearing into a bag and leave them in the bathroom. When you’re done, I want you to be very careful about where you step and come back out to the living room.”

“What are you going to do, Simon?”

“Don’t you worry about that. Just do as I asked.”

Sadie slipped down the hall and disappeared into Alan’s bedroom. I looked around the room. This was a clusterfuck of epic proportions. I waited for Sadie to finish cleaning up, and when she returned, I told her my plan.

“How much gas do you have in your car?”

“A full tank. I just filled it the other day and haven’t been anywhere because...” Her voice trailed off, and I knew it was because of the bruises on her face. I’d been manning the salon alone most weeks because Sadie was ashamed of her appearance.

She wasn’t the one who should have been ashamed.

“Okay, I want you to go home, pack a bag, and leave.”

“Leave? Where? Simon, I can’t run. I have to call the sheriff.”

“No, you were on vacation. You weren’t here when this happened.”

“Simon, I can’t run. I did this. I need to call the sheriff.”

“Baby sister, you will do as I say. Give me your phone.” I held my hand out, waiting for her to hand it over.

When she finally relented, I picked up the knife and used the handle to smash the glass.

Then I stuffed it into her purse. “When you get far enough away, throw it out,” I ordered, then led her out the door.

“Drive. Anywhere. I don’t care where you go. But leave a trail. Use your credit card. In two days, I want you to call the phone company and tell them you lost your phone. Get a new one with a new SIM card but keep your old number.”

“But if I don’t use my card until today—”

“You were using cash before then. Trust me.”

Sadie nodded and climbed into her car. She had an older model that, thankfully, did not have a built-in GPS. She’d been saving for a brand-new car when she met the asshole who was currently dead in the kitchen. He’d convinced her to turn over her savings to him.

I didn’t know how my smart, beautiful sister had missed so many red flags.

Once she was gone, I went back inside and got to work. I picked up the knife and kneeled down in the blood beside the body. Bracing myself with one hand, I stabbed the bastard over and over again, making sure blood splattered all over me.

Then I sliced my hand and moved around the kitchen, touching walls and counters. I pulled out my phone, called the sheriff, and waited for him to come and arrest me.

When the sheriff walked in, I was sitting in a chair at the kitchen table, staring at the wall. I did my best to look shocked. As though I was not completely present.

“Simon.” I startled at his voice and turned my head. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious what happened, Sheriff.”

“Simon, can you tell me how Alan ended up stabbed in the back?”

“Sheriff, I think maybe I should call my lawyer.”

“I think that’s probably a good idea, Simon. Let’s go down to the station so you can make the call.”

Sheriff O’Rourke was a good man. He didn’t cuff me, and I could tell he didn’t want to arrest me either. But he had a job to do. He helped me into the back seat of his truck, and we rode to the station.

We walked in, and Martha Daniels stood there glaring at both of us.

“What are you doing, Sheriff?”

“Martha, don’t get involved. I don’t have a choice.”

“This is Simon, for crying out loud!”

I’d known Martha all my life. She looked at me pleadingly; her kind eyes begged me to say something.

For an unashamed gay man in the Midwest, Martha knew I didn’t quite fit the stereotype.

She’d seen me defend myself on more than one occasion when I was growing up. She knew exactly what I was capable of.

And murdering the asshole who beat up my sister for over a year was definitely something I was capable of.

“There’s the phone. Call your lawyer and get him down here so I can get a statement.”

I stared at the phone. I knew as soon as I made this call, I’d really be up shit creek. Tony wouldn’t just be pissed; he might actually kill me himself.

I dialed the number and waited for him to answer.

“Hello?”

The sound of his voice did things to me that would make a whore blush. The gravel caused from years of smoking made him sound angry all the time. And he would be angry, but his sleepy hello told me he hadn’t looked at the caller ID before he answered.

“Tony, I’m at the police station. I need you to come down here.”

“What the fuck did you do?”

He was awake now. Gone was the sexy baritone that purred in my ear, replaced by the angry growl of the man who refused to admit his feelings for me.

“That’s probably not something I should answer over the phone.”

“Goddammit, Simon! Don’t say a fucking word.”

I pulled the phone away as he yelled and then hung up on me. I stared at the receiver before setting it down, then sat in one of the chairs that lined the wall and waited for the sheriff to put me in an interrogation room; instead, he left me sitting out in the middle of the station.

There were no curious looks from the night shift deputies; they were all at Alan’s house, I imagined, sifting through everything, looking for evidence.

I didn’t have long to wait before the door slammed open and Tony stomped his way past Martha, acknowledging me with only a glare before he kept going straight to the sheriff’s office. He slammed the door shut, and the two men shouted at each other.

I couldn’t decipher what they were saying, but the heated words were about me. A few moments later, Tony stormed from the office and, without looking at me, said, “Let’s go.”

I looked back at the sheriff, who shook his head.

Tony held the door open, and that was when he noticed I hadn’t followed him. “Simon, get your ass up and let’s go.”

“Matlock, I need his clothes. And he needs medical attention.”

“Patch can stitch him up at the clubhouse.”

“Chain of custody. He needs to go to the hospital,” the sheriff said.

“Then why the fuck didn’t you take him there?”

“He wanted to call you first,” the sheriff replied, his voice tired and weary.

“At least he did one fucking thing right.”

“I’m sitting right here!”

“I can fucking see that,” Tony growled. He looked back at the sheriff. “Let’s go then.” He spun to glare at me. “Don’t say a fucking word to anyone at the hospital. You are now a fucking mute. I don’t care if someone asks you what color the fucking sky is, you say nothing. Do I make myself clear?”

I nodded. I knew he’d be mad, but I hadn’t expected this.