Chapter Eight

The next morning, Givon pulled up to the police office of Daniel Two Feathers and cut the engine to his work truck. He shot North a dark look.

“Play it cool, okay?”

North shrugged, his fingers twitching, meaning that he was jonesing for a cigarette. Givon withheld his smirk. He should’ve bet how long the mighty Red Wolves President would last not smoking. He hopped out of the truck and headed inside. Daniel Two Feathers was Chief of Police in a town entirely made up of Shoshone, plus he was a tribal leader, so Givon prayed like hell North would behave.

When he walked up to the receptionist, he pasted a benign smile on his face. The Native American woman smiled back at him, but her greeting died when her gaze landed past him. He knew she was seeing North in full motorcycle club regalia of leathers and chains.

“I’m Sheriff Givon Halloran of Destiny,” he introduced himself. “I was wondering if I could have the chance to talk to Chief Two Feathers.”

“Certainly,” she said. “Have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here. There’s coffee on the credenza.”

While North ambled over to the coffee, Givon looked around the room. He knew the real precinct was next door, where any offenders were taken, booked and jailed, but probably like Destiny, not too much happened within this town’s borders.

The woman walked back out and smiled at him. “The chief will see you now.”

Givon gave her a nod of thanks and headed into the back office, North remained on his heels sipping coffee out of a white Styrofoam cup. Daniel Two Feathers wasn’t at all what he was expecting. Instead of the tall, proud man he’d imagined, before him stood a hunched older man with a scar running down his face. Givon noticed he was blinded in the eye where the scar dissected—and that the wound was fresh. A sick feeling brewed in the pit of his stomach.

“How may I help you?” Chief Two Feathers asked, as he eased down behind his desk. His ran a wary gaze over North from head to toe.

“Thank you for meeting with us,” Givon said. “We’re investigating a homicide.”

The chief raised his one good eyebrow and waited. Givon pulled out his phone and scrolled to the picture of Michael Hiller. He turned it around to show the chief. “This man was Michael Hiller and he was killed in Destiny yesterday.” He watched the chief’s expression carefully, but the man remained blank-faced. Givon continued, “Mr. Hiller had abducted a young woman from Durango a few days ago. She was found and taken to the hospital but he attempted a second hit on her life, after which, he was found shot in his vehicle.”

“I’m not sure I understand. How does this man’s murder pertain to my town?”

This was the part that was going to get interesting. “The woman he abducted and tried to kill was Allison Evening.”

Givon hadn’t even finished saying her name when the Chief Two Feathers surged to his feet, anger and hatred spewing to the forefront. The scar on the man’s face twisted into an ugly caricature as he all but threw the phone back at Givon.

“Did he manage to kill the little whore?”

Givon’s hackles rose, but he knew he had to play it cool. He just hoped North didn’t do anything rash.

“No,” Givon answered calmly. “Ms. Evening is still alive, although she is in protective custody.”

“Too bad the little bitch didn’t die,” he seethed.

North took a step toward him and Givon put up a hand. Without even looking at him, Givon knew the anger that sizzled in North’s blood was now boiling. It was easy to guess because all he himself wanted to do was punch the fucking chief in the face, but to give in would be tipping a hand he didn’t want played.

“Do you have an alibi for yesterday?” he asked coldly.

Chief Two Feathers narrowed his one good eye. “Sitting here, behind my desk, which my receptionist, Monica, and every person in the precinct can verify. So you think I killed this Michael Hiller? For what reason?”

“Because he shot Miss Evening then he tried to smother her with a pillow,” Givon clarified.

The chillingly impassive look on the chief’s face held pure hatred. “And you think I would risk my badge, my reputation, my freedom for the cunt who gave me this?” he demanded, pointing to the scar on his face.

This time Givon had to forcibly hold North back, throwing his body against his friend.

“You say one more derogatory thing about her and I’ll kill you,” North snarled.

“You threatening me, white man?” Two Feathers asked menacingly. “That’s grounds for arrest.”

The chief got a satisfied smirk on his face and it pissed off Givon enough to push North back a step or two, which was quite an accomplishment since North stood a few inches taller and slightly out-muscled him.

“Tell me, Sheriff,” Daniel Two Feathers said snidely. “What’re you doing here with a biker? He can’t possibly be one of your deputies.”

Givon shot a dark glower at North, mentally trying to tell him to stay the fuck away. The last thing he needed was Chief Asshole causing a stink.

“He found her,” he admitted, although he held back part of the truth. Instinct told him divulging too much information to this man wasn’t a wise thing. “It’s personal for him, so I agreed to let him accompany me here.”

“Civilians don’t belong on homicide investigations,” the chief sneered. “And white men don’t belong in my town.”

“That sounds racist,” North challenged.

“We’re just following all the leads,” Givon stated, tossing North a glare to shut the hell up.

“Let me tell you something about Allison Evening,” Daniel Two Feathers spat. “She’s a psycho bitch who didn’t know how to treat her betters. I took her under my wing, under my protection and she repaid me by slashing my face.”

Givon took a deep breath. His badge forced him to ask this next question, but he really didn’t want to.

“Do you wish to press charges?”

“Giv!” North cried.

The chief tried to smile but the scar prevented his facial muscles from working properly and it came out looking more like a ghastly grimace.

“No,” he replied and he didn’t elaborate.

His stomach sank because he knew, in that instant, that Daniel Two Feathers was planning his own revenge—and Givon had just revealed her location.

“All right,” Givon said softly. “Thank you for your time.”

“Listen, asshole,” North grated through clenched teeth, “if I so as much smell you near her, I’ll rip your fucking head off.”

“Again with the threats? Not very bright, white man.”

“I don’t give a fuck who you are. The Tribe can kiss my ass. I’m warning you now that she’s under the protection of the Red Wolves, got it?”

Givon grabbed North’s arm and yanked him out of the chief’s office. The receptionist gave each of them an intense, searching look before he marched North out of the office.

“What the hell, North?”

“Me? What about you?” North demanded. “You should march back in there and beat the shit out of that fucker!”

“Oh, like losing my badge will help Allis right now,” Givon growled back.

“Did you hear what he called her?”

“Of course, I did! Now get in the truck.”

North scowled but complied, rocking the truck with the force of his door slam. Givon sighed and followed him. As he got in, he saw the receptionist peeking out of the window. She stared directly at him and the desperation etched on her face had him stepping back out. Suddenly her eyes widened and she disappeared away from the glass. His gut told him she had something to say but the fear that blanketed her expression just before she turned away suggested it might be prudent to wait until another time. Deciding to leave it for another day, he slid behind the wheel and started up the engine.

“What was that about?” North asked. He sounded a little calmer.

“I don’t know. I’ll try to find out soon.”

“The fucker seems to inspire a lot of fear in the women around him.” North folded his arms. “If he comes near Allis, I won’t hesitate to shoot him.”

“Enough,” Givon snapped. “Nobody is killing anyone, least of all you. Yes, that man rubs me the wrong way, but for now, let’s get back to Destiny, get you packed up then bring Allis home. I’ll feel better when she’s where we can protect her.”

“I hear you,” North replied. “Drop me off at the clubhouse. I’ll meet you at…home.”

Givon held back his smile but it sounded damn good to hear North say that word. Growing up, they hadn’t had much of a home. Knowing they were creating one together was good. And having Allis…? Well, he could hardly contain his excitement.

* * * *

The clubhouse had been his home for a long time, so he had shit stashed everywhere. Most of it he tossed. As he reached inside a drawer to grab some clothes, a pack of cigarettes crunched in his hand and North dropped his stuff to grab the pack. He wasted no time in lighting one up and dragging the smoke deep into his lung. Shit that feels good. Having gone a few days without taking a puff the nicotine shot straight to his head, causing a pleasant buzz.

But Givon’s words from the nixed fishing trip taunted him like a fucking ghost and after one more puff, he ground out the flaring tip. Then he crumpled the pack and tossed it on the nightstand. Okay, maybe he couldn’t quit cold turkey, but he’d be damned if he’d let Givon gloat over his lack of control.

North went back to packing, stuffing T-shirts and underwear into a duffle bag and not liking how few mementos he actually had. It made him feel a little depressed, although he hated thinking about his feelings. He’d stopped being overly sentimental about crap long ago. Still, having his life fit into a duffle bag on the eve of his fortieth birthday gave him a kick in the pants.

When Giv had asked him to move in—to share his home—the hard shell around his heart had cracked. For a long time, he’d never let anyone or anything in, except the club and Giv, which was why he liked living in the clubhouse. It kept him apart from anything remotely confining, like having a relationship. Of course, the moment he’d looked into Allis’s eyes, something had shifted. The need to protect her, look out for her, had dominated his thoughts. All he wanted to do was hold her, even if it was just that, holding her until she healed. Perhaps then… Well, he’d explore those thoughts later.

“Where are you going?” Draven asked from the doorway.

“I’m moving into Givon’s house.”

“What?” Draven demanded.

North stared at him coolly. “You heard me.”

“Are you crazy? He’s the law and we just agreed to a money laundering and a drug running deal.”

“We’ll be lawful one day.”

“North—”

“What, Draven? What?” North asked roughly. “I got offered a home. I haven’t had a home…ever. Except here. And with my birthday in a couple of days, and the knowledge that Allis needs me, I’ve decided I want someplace to settle down in. Is that so bad?”

“Yes,” Draven said. “When it’s with Givon Halloran… Yes, it is. Have you told him about the club’s decision?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what the fuck is he going to say if or when he finds out about the solution to our money problems?”

“He won’t do anything,” North stated. “He’s my friend.”

“He’s a cop!”

“He’s a friend to this club!”

Draven folded his arms. “Are you and he…involved?”

“What? God, no! Why does everyone assume close friendships automatically mean sex?” North demanded. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging the bandana around his forehead. “Our fathers were drinking buddies. We were beaten together. We hid together. We survived together. Giv is my brother, closer than any blood brother.”

“Closer than a club brother?” Draven asked softly.

All the anger drained out of North. He sat heavily upon the bed. “I’ve given everything to this club. Patch took me in, raised me as if I was his son and I miss him more than you can know. I miss his guidance, his calmness, the way he could look at you and know your soul. I’m just… I want more. I’ve lived in this room for almost twenty-six years, Draven. And now I want someplace where I can grow old.”

“Okay,” Draven whispered. “So it’s going to be you, Allis and Givon.”

“I guess so.”

“She must be special.”

“I think she is. I hope she is.”

“All right,” Draven replied, obviously coming to some conclusion. “You find your home. Do your bonding thing with Allis. I’ll take care of things here for you.”

“Are you sure, Draven?”

“Yeah. I’ll check up on Nick and Tina and I’ll set up a meeting with Bryman Jay.”

“Thanks,” North whispered.

Draven gave him a tight smile and left the room, leaving North with a great weight sliding off his shoulders that he hadn’t even known he was carrying. He loved the club, loved his brothers. The club had saved his life and his future, but now it just wasn’t enough.

He pushed to his feet and resumed packing his meager possessions, excitement flooding his system at the thought that tonight he’d be sleeping in his home.