Chapter Two #2
She thrust the bag into Kira’s arms and hauled ass to the restroom.
The bag, although not large, was heavy. Unzipping just a fraction, she could see lots of fifty and twenty-dollar bills.
This was bad. Very, very bad. Bikers didn’t just let things go.
They’d be hunting for the cash until hell froze over, dragging everyone along with them, and if they found out there were witnesses who kept it all to themselves .
.. yeah. Not good. The money needed to get back to the Sons, or this diner would become ground zero by default.
There wasn’t much else out here on this edge of Cheyenne.
They would tear up her world in order to figure out where it went.
Which drew her into a fire she didn’t want to be in.
Kira knew she didn’t have all that long until Christine came out of the rinky-dink bathroom where you couldn’t even turn around. In fact, the sink was outside the toilet. She had a choice to make. Let Christine go and have the motorcycle club pick apart her little corner of the world, or return it.
Without second-guessing herself, she grabbed a to-go bag and placed the duffel inside, then hightailed it out of there, hurrying to her car.
Fear coiled low in her stomach because she didn’t want to go to the Sons’ turf, and if she had any other option, she would take it.
But she couldn’t let Christine, or herself, or even the diner get hurt by a club of outlaws.
Kira knew where the clubhouse for the Sons of Sin MC was located. Everyone did. It was no secret that the local law enforcement left them alone, probably because they’d been paid to do just that. She’d never seen them near her diner before, and she hoped she never did again.
Kira drove extra slowly, dreading what she was about to do, and had to have a pep talk with herself. “Just go in, return the bag, and get out.”
It was a mantra she continued to mutter under her breath, even as she pulled up to the biker clubhouse. It was behind a gate, so she drove up to it and rolled down her window. A large bear of a man bent down to question her.
“Can I help you, sweetheart?”
“I-I need to talk to Sinn.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly dressed as club ass, are you?”
“Club ass? Absolutely not. I have to return something to him.”
“Well, you can leave it with me.”
“No,” she said firmly. “Only with him. Believe me, he’s gonna want to see what I have.”
“And how do I know you’re not an assassin?”
It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. “If I was an assassin, why would I come through the front door? Although I’ve never met one, I would think they operate on the down-low, so as to, you know, remain anonymous.”
The man laughed. “You got a point. All right, little lady. You can park your car over to the right. Sinn is around somewhere, but fair warning, he might even be fucking a girl upstairs.”
For some reason, she didn’t like hearing that, although it was none of her business.
The gate opened, and she followed the instruction, parking her car where she’d been told.
She spotted a few people gathered around a firepit, drinking and laughing.
The smell of weed lingered heavily in the air.
Kira exited her car and clutched the take-out bag tightly to her chest. People stared at her, whispering, like she couldn’t imagine what they were saying.
Yes, she was out of place. Yes, she was dressed in a greasy, stained waitress outfit. Yes, she smelled like French fries.
Moving on.
Stepping into the house was like stepping into some frat house party.
Loud music, people drinking, sexual acts happening over various furniture.
Since the one person she was looking for wasn’t in the whatever-this-room was called, she decided to go exploring.
Again, people gave her weird looks, and once again, she ignored them.
She entered another room where a pool table was in use. One glance around told her that Sinn wasn’t watching some car race on the extremely large flat-screen on the wall or indulging with the half-naked women, or even losing at pool.
“Hello, there,” came a butter-smooth voice. “Haven’t seen you before.”
Kira turned. The man who talked was tall and ruggedly good-looking. Not as handsome as Sinn, but she figured there weren’t too many men that could hold a candle to him. Not that she cared or anything. Why did this club have so many good-looking guys?
“And you’ll not likely see me ever again. Can you point out where Sinn would be?”
The man narrowed his eyes as he studied her. She made sure to not blink as she stared him down, making sure not to show any weakness. Never again would she show any sign of fear or compassion to a man. Two things that had once been her downfall.
As if making up his mind, the man tilted his chin toward a door behind him. “He’s in the office with his brother.”
Cautiously, she followed him, maintaining an arm length between them. She didn’t like the clubhouse, didn’t like the feel of it. It reminded her too much of that night. Kira didn’t shy away from thinking about all the pain and suffering she had endured because it was a reminder not to trust anyone.
The man stopped in front of a door, knocked, then opened it when he was given permission. Kira stepped into the room, twisting a little to make sure her back wasn’t left vulnerable. At first glance, she saw that Sinn sat behind a desk, only...
“You’re not Sinn,” she stated.
The obvious clone raised an eyebrow. “I’m not?”
They looked the same, sounded the same, and yet the look in his eyes was completely different.
Ruthlessness lay in the arctic freeze of his gaze that held a hint of ugliness.
Or perhaps the menacing glare was simply disdain.
He perused her up and down, turning her blood cold.
If they tried to get the drop on her, she’d be more than happy to show she was no longer a damsel in distress.
Then a toilet flushed, and a moment later a door behind the clone opened. Sinn patted his hands on a paper towel when their gazes met. His dimples flashed when he smiled, obviously thinking she came to take him up on his offer.
“There you are.”
He tossed the used paper towel into the trash then opened his arms wide. “Here I am. Although I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. I was sure I was gonna have to start stalking you at work.”
“Don’t,” she said emphatically. “Or I’ll gut you like a fish.”
“Somebody sounds grumpy.” He nudged the clone. “Just like you, actually.”
“Fuck off,” Not-Sinn said, then he addressed her. “Who are you?”
“Who are you?” she countered.
Sinn laughed. “Kira, this is my brother, Saint. Saint, this is Kira.”
“Yeah,” he said dryly. “I read that on her uniform, but who is she?”
Her thought earlier that no man could hold a candle to Sinn disappeared into the ether. “Saint and Sinn?”
“Sinner, actually.” He seemed to smile a lot, if the crinkles by his eyes were any indication. “Mom was either stoned or drunk, or possibly even both, when she named us. She had a flair for the dramatic. Brother, this is the young lady I told you about from the diner.”
“Yeah, again, I got that from her uniform.” Saint studied her like she was a bug under a microscope. “Are you here to become club ass or something? You saw Sinn and thought he’d date you?”
She should’ve known that was what they were going to assume. “I’m here to return your money.” She pulled the duffel out of the shopping bag.
The humor fled Sinn as he and Saint’s gaze zeroed in on the duffel.
“Did you have that when I was there?”
She ignored him and addressed Saint. “My coworker and I saw the gunfight go down, and we saw a man throw this bag into a ring of stacked tires near the streetlight. I told her to leave it alone, but she obviously didn’t.”
Saint gave a small head nod to the duffel and Sinn took it and unzipped. He rummaged around a couple of seconds then gave his brother a nod.
“Did you take your finder’s fee from it?” Saint asked sarcastically.
“I didn’t take anything,” she said firmly. “And I know better than to steal from outlaws.”
Suddenly, her phone went off. No one moved as she dug it out of her pocket. Christine’s name displayed and Kira disconnected the call.
“Sorry, that was the coworker I told you about.”
“The one who grabbed the duffel?”
Kira nodded. “She doesn’t have a lot of street smarts.”
Her phone went off again. Kira frowned and once more shut it up. Saint stared at her, eyes narrowed. Thinking. Calculating. His poker face was resolute, and it sent a shiver down her spine.
“What are you after?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Really?” He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “Just returned the money out of the goodness of your heart?”
It dawned on her that he expected her to demand a reward or something.
“Really,” she said firmly. “I just want your word that you won’t retaliate.”
“I believe her,” Sinn cheerfully declared.
When she looked at him, he winked. Kira glanced back and forth between the twins, assessing.
They were identical, but where Saint had a perpetual frown on his face, his brother seemed to be a big ball of sunshine.
She trusted neither one of them. “Can I at least stop by for a cup of coffee?”
She blinked at him. Was he serious?
“Sinn,” Saint snapped. “Enough. You don’t even like coffee.”
“Boy, someone is extra grumpy,” Sinn said, giving her a sly smile.
Was he flirting? She was never good at spotting stuff like that, or reciprocating. Long ago she’d learned a hard lesson to never flirt back. Her mind instantly shied away from cruising down memory lane. She locked that shit up tight and threw away the key long ago.
“Tell me what you saw.”
She should’ve expected this. All she wanted to do was leave, but it seemed like they wanted to pull teeth.