Chapter 10
NOELLE
Riding behind Ash on the motorcycle was the kind of thrill I never expected to experience.
He patted my thigh, and I tightened my hold.
He took the turn with a slow control that kept us upright.
They’d had a few chances to take risks on the curved roads leaving and coming back into town, but they never did.
They rode carefully, with a conscientious effort to stay at the speed limit.
The roads had dried up some in our absence, the weak winter sunshine doing what it could to help.
But the snow piled up on the sides gave off an unappealing aroma, and the dirty streaks ruined the soft Christmas effect I’d harbored since the first flake fell.
Ash’s heart thumped beneath my palm when I braced a hand on his chest as we turned into the road leading to the clubhouse.
Ash slowed further, and I peeked over his shoulder. “Something’s wrong.”
He nodded and tilted to talk to me without the wind tearing his voice away. “No kidding.”
A whole day out with Ash, Rafe, and Bishop, and I’d learned a few things I never expected.
Today put them into a new perspective.
Nothing they’d done would help my investigation.
They drove around after the storm to help the elderly and the homebound.
They’d delivered food when needed, offered comfort, and arrived just in time to help Robert.
The deadly, dangerous Steel Vipers might not be as bad as they’d been touted.
I wanted to doubt what I’d seen, but why would they bother showing me this part of themselves?
What kind of agenda would Rafe be playing at?
All the people we’d seen today recognized them.
They were not afraid.
They’d been grateful.
All that added up to one thing.
The Vipers were good men.
I propped my chin on Ash’s shoulder.
He’d seemed surprised when I called him a softie, but I’d seen the way his eyes softened.
Rafe held up a hand, raising his fingers in a kind of hand motion that made no sense to me.
Bishop glanced at Ash, then me.
He pointed at the houses on his left.
I glanced each way.
Darkness coated each window.
Not a single light shone over the road or on a porch. Ahead, the stop lights blinked red in every direction.
“No power.” Ash sped up, catching up to Rafe. “Did you hear anything about this? The storm’s over. Why’s the power out?”
“No idea.” Rafe stopped several feet away from the white line at the closest red light.
It flashed over his face, the red blinking creating a dichotomy of crimson and bleakness in his rugged features.
The shadowed edge of his jaw tightened.
He gripped the handlebars, his body sitting low on the narrow seat. Booted feet shifted on the asphalt. “The stores are vulnerable.”
My breath hitched as I took in the dark storefronts that lined the road.
I hadn’t been in town enough to recognize any of the businesses, but they did.
And if I knew anything after today, they would not only know the stores, but they’d also know the owners by name.
“This is bad.” Ash patted my leg again. “We should get to the clubhouse and find out what’s going on.”
Rafe checked his phone. “No messages from the rest of the crew. Either this just happened, or they don’t know anything.” He turned his head toward the clubhouse road. “Let’s go.”
They moved slowly, taking in the darkness.
It crept around me, climbing my spine and raising the hairs on the back of my neck.
Noise cut through the sound of their engines. “What’s that?”
We turned into the side road, and the noise became evident.
A dozen or more men and women stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the clubhouse.
A single light shone in the window behind them, sending their shadows stretching across the ground.
Rafe stopped when his front wheel reached the closest shadow.
He cut the engine, lowered the kickstand, and swung off.
I wrenched the helmet off and placed it on the hook Ash had pointed out at our last stop. “What’s going on?”
“Stay behind me.” Ash nudged me behind him. His shoulders stiffened, the intensity of his body turning electric.
Bishop stood halfway between me and Rafe.
He took a hesitant step forward, paused, then moved again, not stopping until he stood shoulder to shoulder with Rafe.
“What kind of game do you think you’re playing?” A tall man in a heavy overcoat stepped forward.
The sight of them reminded me of those paranormal stories about vampires and werewolves.
All these people needed were torches and pitchforks to be the perfect mob.
Rafe met the man face to face.
I couldn’t see his expression from where I stood, but I felt his anger halfway across the parking lot.
The man pointed at Rafe. “Don’t deny it. We all know you cut the town’s power. Just look.”
He stabbed a finger toward the clubhouse. “No one else has power except you.”
“That’s a solar lamp.” Bishop snorted a dark laugh that imploded across the crowd.
“The sun’s going down. It’s supposed to be below freezing tonight, and you’ve left all of us without power.” The man took another step. “Fix it.”
Bishop cut him off with a slash of his hand through the air. “That’s close enough.”
A snarl curled the man’s lip upward.
He spat on the gravel between them.
“You didn’t do this.” I clasped Ash’s arm with both hands and tried to step around him.
Rafe shifted just enough to reveal his profile. His eyes slid to me and narrowed. “That’s enough.”
The crowd in front of him jolted like they’d been electrocuted.
I knew how they felt.
The command in his mere presence overwhelmed me.
“But you were gone,” I whispered to Ash, afraid Rafe would hear and yet needing to convince the crowd they were innocent.
We’d been on the road all day.
There was no way they’d done this.
Rafe crossed his arms and widened his stance.
It was a bold power move, and when Bishop did the same, the entire group took notice.
Ash shushed me with a look that demanded I keep my thoughts to myself.
Why?
None of it made sense.
“We’ll fix the power when we feel like it.” Rafe’s voice was low and cold.
The blizzard we’d experienced was warmer than the look in his eyes when he broke eye contact with me and faced the mob.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t have to.
The threat in his stance held an ominous edge. “Leave.”
Bishop stayed close, and Ash continued to block me from view.
No one cared about me, anyway.
Who would bother looking at me when they had these three standing in their faces?
My mouth dried up like a prune when Rafe spoke again.
“Unless you’d like to face the consequences of sticking around, I suggest you do as I said.” Somehow, without turning his back on anyone, he strode around the group and up the clubhouse steps.
Bishop stayed behind Rafe, watching his back and making sure no one got too close.
His immense size caused several of them to step back when he approached.
Bishop smirked and flung his hands out. “Boo.”
A man in the back flinched so hard he fell into the woman beside him.
She pushed him upright, but he overbalanced and went too far forward.
The man who’d been their spokesperson gaped at Bishop, who made shooing motions with one hand. “You heard him. Get lost.”
Ash nudged me to the side. “Don’t say anything. Not a single fucking word.”
My mouth opened, but a squeak of protest emerged instead of words.
I wanted to tell him I didn’t understand.
Why did they want everyone to think they’d turned off the power to the town?
Who would do such a thing?
Mutters spread through the crowd, but their shifting uncertainty turned their threatening behavior into an uncoordinated mess.
The clubhouse door slammed behind Rafe.
The sound jarred through the crowd, startling them into a scattering motion that reminded me of roaches.
Ash chuckled under his breath. “Have to admit, the man knows what he’s doing.”
“Does he?” We skirted around the crowd and met Bishop on the wooden porch.
Bishop dipped his head in a slow nod. “Any idea what happened?”
Ash shrugged. “I’ll need to check the power station.”
I’d known they didn’t do this, but to hear them discussing it put me even more at ease.
An unexpected thought knocked me back a step. I rested my shoulder against the porch post and watched as the crowd drifted apart in twos and threes.
A few of them looked back, their curses and concern drifting in the wind.
A breeze stirred the trees at the end of the house, and the last rays of sunlight touched the horizon.
Ash and Bishop carried on a conversation in muted tones.
They mentioned soup and blankets and calling Colt to come help out.
My mind churned the information I’d gathered.
My mentor once told me that when in doubt, look for the most obvious solution, as it was usually the right one.
Then again, being a detective meant trying not to follow assumptions but to look for the truth in the evidence.
These men had not cut the power to the town, but they were taking the fall.
A cold breath chilled my airway.
They were taking the blame. Willingly.
“Who started the rumor that you caused the blackout?” I spun to face Ash and Bishop.
Both men looked stunned at the question.
“Who cares?” Bishop splayed his hands in a mocking gesture.
“Rafe wants it that way.” Ash shoved Bishop’s shoulder when the bigger man scowled.
I pushed off from the post. “But you’re being used as a scapegoat.”
I crossed my arms, and the smell of Ash’s cologne rose from the leather jacket. “I’m going to find out who started the rumors. You don’t deserve to be treated like this.”
“No.” Ash grabbed my elbows and pulled me in close. “Don’t do anything without Rafe’s permission.”
“I don’t need permission to do what’s right.” I lifted my chin.
Ash lowered his, putting us eye to eye and bringing a flash of awareness to how close we stood. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Rafe wants this. Don’t mess with it.”
Rafe opened the door. “Get in here. We need to sort this out. Colt’s on his way.”
Ash and Bishop moved without hesitation or argument.
I lingered on the threshold a moment too long, and Rafe swung my way.
I chewed on what I wanted to say, considering the benefits and repercussions.
In the end, I ducked under his arm and entered the clubhouse.
“I’ll light the fireplace.” Ash grabbed a stack of logs and fire starter from a bin along the wall. “Noelle, there are candles in the closet. Can you get them?”
Trying to get rid of me?
I could argue and stick around, but what was the point?
I had a lot to think about and the time alone might help.
Bishop and Rafe stood together in the corner, their heads bent together as they whispered.
I could try and listen in, but if they didn’t want me to hear, they’d stop as soon as I approached.
How did I find the truth in the middle of this mess?
A motorcycle club touted as the worst of the worst showed me their goodness today.
But they wanted to keep all of that a secret.
I entered the closet and scanned the shelves.
Someone had organized them, labeling the sides in crisp, bold writing.
Bishop. I’d never seen him write anything, but I knew it was his penmanship.
How could I possibly recognize something so personal?
What happened tonight, and why did I feel like everything had changed?