Chapter 41
41
“ Y ou fill that display case with creepy dolls yet?” Philly asked, slinging an arm over her shoulders.
Lina elbowed him. “Hush, you, that’s supposed to be a Halloween surprise for Jackson,” she said in a whisper.
Philly snickered. He, Monk, and Jackson had moved the rest of her things into Jackson’s apartment the day before. She hadn’t changed her driver’s license yet, but she was officially a California resident now.
The display case had passed to her from her maternal grandmother. In her apartment in Seattle, it held a few small sculptures she’d collected from around the world, two paintings, each only one square foot, and a couple of old photos from her grandfather’s side of the family. Jackson had more wall space than her old apartment, so they’d hung the paintings. And her sculptures had joined his, decorating the built-in bookshelves surrounding their fireplace. The photos—along with some of her and her mom, and even one of her, her mom, and her dad that Jackson found—were scattered along the shelves as well.
Leaving the antique display case empty.
She didn’t want to fill it just to fill it, but Philly had jokingly suggested she buy a dozen antique dolls to display until she figured out what she wanted inside. Jackson had been so horrified by the prospect that they’d immediately started planning the “Halloween surprise.” Philly wasn’t the most patient of men, though, and although they’d only formulated the plan the day before, he’d asked her twice already if she’d done it.
“You did promise I could be there when he sees it,” Philly reminded her.
“Which won’t be nearly as fun if you keep talking about it and he gets wind of the plan.”
Philly huffed. “Fine, woman. You have a point. But can we shop together? There’s a curiosities shop over in Sonora, and I swear they have haunted dolls. I really want to help pick them out,” he said, emphasizing “really.”
“Deal,” she said. “Next time he goes out of town, we’ll make a dash over.”
He pumped his fist. “Yesss.”
“Yes, what?” Jackson asked, joining them and handing her a beer. The entire club—including Hawkeye, who’d just returned from his deployment—was enjoying an end-of-summer barbecue at the clubhouse. Which, according to Charley, Juliana, and Joey, doubled as a welcome party for her. She didn’t care about a party for herself—she was just happy to be settling into Mystery Lake with Jackson—but appreciated the thought. And the desserts Charley made.
“Yes, I get the first piece of Charley’s key lime pie,” Philly answered without missing a beat. Jackson looked at her.
“We negotiated. He gets that, but I get the first piece of the chocolate caramel torte,” she said. Jackson didn’t look as if he believed them, but whatever he’d been about to say died when his attention shifted to the clubhouse door.
The chatter stopped as everyone turned. Even Sherman, who’d been playing fetch with Scipio, halted mid-retrieval.
Philly’s arm around her shoulder tensed, and on instinct, she moved closer to him as she, too, turned to see what had caught everyone’s attention.
Two seconds passed before Agent Callie Parks stepped from the shadows into the large yard. Her gaze skimmed the crowd. She’d noticed the silence—and stares—but she continued until it landed on Philly.
Lina didn’t miss the way the agent’s gaze lingered on Philly’s arm draped over her shoulder, but neither of them—or Jackson—moved.
“Callie,” Mantis said, taking four steps away from the grill. “What brings you here?”
“I need to speak to Gabriel,” she answered, her gaze never leaving the man she sought.
“We’re in the middle of a celebration. You should have called,” Mantis said.
At that, her gaze did flicker to the president. “It was a spur-of-the-moment trip. I’ll only take a few minutes of his time.”
Mantis glanced at Philly, then returned his attention to the agent. “Another time, Callie. Why don’t you come by tomorrow? We’ll be wrapping up a meeting around ten; you can grab him then.”
“Is he unable to speak for himself?” the agent snapped.
To a one, every member of the Falcon’s Rest club squared up and faced her head-on. They may not be a typical motorcycle club, but even Lina knew it wasn’t a good idea to piss them off.
Callie drew back, and Lina could all but see the battle waging inside the agent—call their bluff and press her case or opt for a strategic retreat.
She pressed her lips together in a thin line. “Fine,” she said, a definite snap in her voice. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” Turning her gaze to Philly, she added, “I’ll expect to speak to you then.”
Beside her, Philly didn’t move. In fact, Lina was fairly certain he barely breathed.
Callie held his gaze for another heartbeat, then spun on her heel and left. No one said a word until they heard the echo of her car door close and the engine start. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Philly let out a long breath.
“Not that I advocate using alcohol to solve your problems, but do you want a drink?” she asked.
Philly’s jaw ticked. He inhaled once, then again. He sighed. “I already tried alcohol to solve that particular problem. It didn’t work the first or second time, but hell, maybe third time’s the charm.” Turning his dark blue eyes on her, he grinned, or more accurately, flashed a semblance of one. “Any interest in joining me in a shot or twelve of tequila?”
Viper and Lina’s story was one of passion, sacrifice, and unbreakable loyalty. But their journey is only part of the bigger picture. As the stakes rise, so do the dangers lurking in the shadows.
Have you caught up with Falcon’s Rest ? If not, start with Stone—because every choice, every battle, and every bond forged in blood will shape what’s coming next.
And coming late summer 2025— Phillip’s story . Some wars are fought on the battlefield, others in the heart.