Chapter 6
Lucy
Another group of men came in, eyeing me up as they walked past. I kept my focus on them, not showing any weakness.
“Want a drink?” Jay’s face changed back to stone.
He didn’t wait for my answer, but poured two fingers of something amber into a glass and set it on the bar. I didn’t move, unsure if I wanted to get any closer to him than I already had been.
“Relax,” he said. “If I wanted you gone, you wouldn’t have made it past the fence.”
I stepped forward and picked up the glass, downing the drink in one. The whiskey burned on the way down. Cheap and bitter, exactly like the man behind the bar.
From the end of the bar, one of the older patched members muttered, “Girl drinks better’n Boxer,” loud enough for the table to hear. A biker grumbled, but it got a few chuckles.
Riot chuckled and added, “Careful, Pres. She’s got Caleb’s spine and your temper. Dangerous mix.” Then, in a softer voice, he said to me, “You don’t scare easy. That’ll keep you alive longer than a gun in this place.”
Jay looked at Riot and gave him a nod.
“I saw what was on top of the casket,” I said, my eyes not leaving his.
Jay’s expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes flinched.
“He wasn’t part of this club anymore,” I said. “He left. He got clean. So, why was he in a Dead Knights kutte when they put him in the ground?”
Jay stood straight. “That’s not something I can answer.”
“Why not?”
“Because it wasn’t my decision.”
“Then whose was it?” I folded my arms and jutted out my hip. The move wasn’t lost on Jay, whose gaze dropped to my waist and hovered there for far too long.
I cleared my throat, and his eyes snapped to mine. Suddenly, I was regretting getting his attention back on me.
“You’re not in the club. You don’t get access to our decisions.” He didn’t blink. His words were harsh and meant to be the end of the conversation.
I stared at him. “I’m not asking for access. I’m asking for the truth. Please.”
“That’s not how this place works.”
I drained the rest of the whiskey and set the glass down on the bar hard enough to crack it. “Then maybe I need to find someone who gives less evasive answers.”
Jay smirked. “You’re a long way from New York, princess. People don’t give out the truth because you look pissed off.”
“I’m not from New York.”
“No?” He leaned forward again, and I fought the instinct to take a step back. “Then what’s with the accent and the attitude?”
I met his gaze and tried to keep mine steady. “Maybe I don’t like being lied to.”
After a long pause, Jay nodded slowly, like I’d passed some sort of test.
“I loved your brother,” he said. “He was good, smart, and loyal.”
My voice softened, and my chest constricted. That was the Caleb I knew—the honest, kind, fun big brother who was nothing but loyal. “Then why’s he dead?” My voice cracked, I couldn’t help it.
“I don’t know, but I didn’t kill him.” He straightened and pushed his hands into his jeans pockets.
I searched his face. I wanted to believe him so bad, and then I hated that I did. His face showed no sign of guilt. Instead, what I saw was my emotions reflected, anger mixed with grief. His brow furrowed, and his eyes were dull.
“I want in,” I said, a snap decision that I was sure I’d regret, but I had to find out what happened to Caleb, even if it was the last thing I did.
He blinked, and his brow furrowed further. “In what?”
“The club. The world. The whatever-it-is you’re all so afraid to name.” I gestured around the bar with my hands.
Jay laughed once, low and humourless, as he shook his head. “You think this is a game?”
“No. I think it’s a labyrinth, and you’re standing at the centre along with the real answers about how my brother died.”
“You wouldn’t last a week.” He scoffed, placing both hands flat on the bar top.
“I’m stronger than you think. Try me,” I almost begged. Getting my foot in the door would be a big first step towards finding out what had happened to Caleb.
Jay stared at me for a long time, almost as if he was sizing me up. Then he picked up the bottle and poured us each another drink.
“Finish that,” he said, “then we’ll see if you still want in.” He picked up his glass and downed it in one.
As I reached for the glass, movement at the far end of the bar caught my eye.
A woman with warm skin and dark hair pulled into a loose braid was coming towards us, carrying a tray of empty bottles.
She was older than most of the women I’d seen there, maybe mid-forties, but her smile was genuine, not the painted on kind I’d been getting since I walked in.
“You must be Lucy,” she said, setting the tray on the counter. Her voice was quiet and smooth, with a hint of gravel.
I blinked. “Yeah, and you are?”
“Maria.” She nodded towards Riot. “Riot’s old lady.”
That surprised me, not because she didn’t look the part, but because she didn’t act like she had something to prove. She stood there, calm and steady, her eyes soft in a way that didn’t match the rough edges of the room.
“I knew your brother,” she said gently. “Caleb. He was a good one. Always made sure I got home from the bar when Riot was stuck on a run.”
The sudden ache in my throat caught me off-guard. “You . . . you remember him like that?”
“Like that and better.” She reached across the bar, squeezing my hand once before letting go. “I’m sorry for your loss, mija. You’re family here, whether you believe it yet or not.”
I didn’t trust my voice enough to answer, so I nodded as tears pricked at my eyes.
Maria gave me a small smile before collecting her tray again. “Don’t let the noise in here fool you. There are people worth trusting, you just have to find them.”
She drifted away towards the back hallway, and for a moment, the knot in my chest loosened. Then the front door opened, and a group of men strode in, eyes raking over me, and the moment of warmth was gone.