Chapter 23: QUIN

Twenty-Three

QUIN

T anner will be back in a day. I don't know where he is, but the woman Tanner assigned to stay with me — a nice white lady named Deborah — keeps me informed as much as she sees fit. Deborah is his aunt, but I would like her even if she wasn't related to Tanner.

She hasn't said anything to me in the past seven days but today she tells me in no uncertain terms, "Tanner will be back tomorrow."

I don't know how to feel about that. To describe the energy between us as weird would be an understatement. The new contract made me extremely suspicious and then Tanner has been strange ever since the whole Plan B incident. He acts like he doesn't trust me and then there's the incident with his hug.

His scent.

My suspicions.

I can't make any plans to test my suspicions until he gets back. Until then, I have to just keep living the way I have been since Tanner left.

I would have appreciated the heads up that I would be in charge of his so-called safe house, but at least the guests are easy to get along with. Apparently, our place out in Arizona is the only one the bikers can send their wives and children to, so I won't be staying here alone.

I don't have any say in the situation – of course. Deb announces it to me at the last minute.

Juliette is stashed away somewhere else, but Anna Shaw, Deborah Shaw, Tamiya Blackwood and Rebecca Knight are here. Avery is still with us, as well as Juliette's baby. They have a good baby routine going together and it's nice to have Juliette for company.

Tamiya and Rebecca are private investigators and most of the conversations we've had since they all arrived have surrounded the mysterious incident that called the Rebel Barbarians to this unplanned meeting in the desert. Rebecca also suspects that Tamiya is pregnant, but she keeps brushing off the subject and turning everything back to the dead bodies found in the desert and the private investigation they have done into potential motorcycle clubs that might be involved.

I don't know enough about Tanner's club to guess about anything, but I absorb as much information as I can from their conversations and ask questions whenever I get confused. The way I understand it, they all suspect that Avery has something to do with the "situation" out in the desert. Tanner told me he had to go to a funeral.

I had to find out from Deb that this "funeral" wasn't something so casual, but the death of six bikers who were found headless in a mass grave out in the desert. I don't like talking about death and murder, but I try to act normal throughout the conversation, pushing out thoughts of blood. Death. The scent of bleach which always lingers in my mind when I draw those memories forward.

The night before Tanner gets back, Anna insists we have one last dinner together. The babies are all asleep and Rebecca has been rubbing it in everyone's face that she's not pregnant and can drink all the espresso martinis she wants. Deb Shaw joins her in project espresso martini, so they're both drunk as hell.

Considering the lack-of-Plan-B situation, I'm too scared to drink any alcohol. If I end up pregnant, I don't want the baby to have three spines or whatever happens when you drink early in pregnancy. Something bad. I remember that much from my health classes.

While the ladies without risk of pregnancy get slightly tipsy and a little energetic off the espresso martinis, Anna and I work on our spread for dinner. None of us have had a traditional black Thanksgiving in ages, so we get the crazy idea to have a Thanksgiving dinner on some random day in the middle of the year. Despite my white adoptive parents, I had Juliette, who had the best Thanksgiving dinners at her place growing up until her mom died. I can't wait to recreate the experience, even if nobody can throw down in the kitchen quite like Juliette. She has a talent.

We all love cooking and eating — except for Tamiya, who only loves cooking and clearly doesn't eat very much. She offers to make the sweet potato pie for dessert which makes me a little nervous because she's a little skinny to be trusted with dessert, but I have the responsibility of the greens and the baked Mac and cheese, so I have to let go and let God when it comes to the dessert.

Our fake "Thanksgiving" ends up being the most fun I've had in a long time. The espresso martinis and the atmosphere brings out the private investigator in everyone. Tamiya leads the conversation, unable to let go of the deaths in the desert.

"After Oske blackmailed me to kidnap a baby, Gideon is not going to let me get away with something like that again. I'd rather us feel safe."

Anna scoffs. "When have you ever felt completely safe since meeting one of those bikers?"

"Fair point," Rebecca says, slurring a bit. "But I don't have any biases and I have a list of suspects."

Tamiya gives her a warning look. Rebecca shrugs. "What? There aren't any bikers here."

Tamiya looks at Deb Shaw suspiciously.

"Deb and I got white girl wasted together. She's not going to snitch."

Deb Shaw laughs hysterically and throws her arm over Rebecca's shoulder. She's definitely wasted.

"I am not wasted," she says. "But I promise, I won't tell. I promise. "

"These men take loyalty seriously," Tamiya says. "Just make sure you know what you're doing before you end a life."

Rebecca clears her throat, clearly unconcerned. Deb giggles uncomfortably because of the alcohol, but that doesn't discourage Rebecca either.

"I have four main suspects with connections to the club who I believe should have their loyalty questioned."

Deb perks up and I wonder if Tamiya had a point about Rebecca being careful. Since I barely know what's going on, I want to know her theories, just out of curiosity. And, in the back of my mind, I might have to use this information as a bargaining chip with Tanner later. If I can't trick him into telling me the truth… maybe I can convince him.

Thankfully, I don't have to worry about his return until tomorrow.

"Spill," Anna says. "Because I don't know anyone stupid enough to cross my husband."

"Exactly," Rebecca says with a sparkle in her eye. "It wouldn't be someone close to the four co-presidents. Not exceedingly close. "

"They would have to have connections to the club to know about Oske. Or Avery."

"My first suspect is Savannah Hollingsworth."

Deb rolls her eyes. "She's a whore and a junkie. She's not smart enough to pull off something like this."

Rebecca nods. "Fair enough. I looked her up and she's been stripping in Florida right around the spot where Don Hollingsworth met her mom. Junkies might not plan something this elaborate, but if she has information, she might sell it."

"Is she sleeping with anyone in the club?" Anna asks.

"I don't know," Rebecca says. "That's why she's just a suspect."

"Next?" Deb presses her, clearly unimpressed with the Savannah theory. The next one really gets Deb Shaw's attention.

"Ruger's wife. Darlene Song."

Tamiya sighs. "Say that in front of Gideon and you're going to start a war."

"I heard Gideon beat his ass in a Taco Bell," Anna says knowingly. Deb Shaw erupts into peals of laughter at that revelation, making it hard for me not to smile because of her contagious ass drunken laughter.

"Is that what you're so worried about telling me?" Deb says.

"Yes," Tamiya says. "But she started it. So keep your ass going."

Rebecca looks smug, so clearly, she thinks this is the most likely theory.

"What type of woman would marry Ruger Blackwood?" Anna asks, wrinkling her nose. Rebecca might be impressed, but Anna isn't. I don't know enough about any of those people to even understand who might betray the Barbarians to a rival biker gang of killer Nazis.

"He got married to some piece of white trash when he was eighteen," Deb says, clearly unfiltered due to her martini. Tamiya tops off her glass from the martini shaker, at least half as entertained as I am.

"Where is the piece of white trash?" Anna says, hesitating over the more offensive words.

"Prison," Tamiya and Deb say together.

" Unless ," Rebecca says. "She secretly got out early and she's on the run with the guy she dated before Ruger, who happens to be an Enforcer on the Midnight SS."

Even if you want to disagree with Rebecca's theory, it's the most concrete connection that any of us have heard.

"What's the Midnight SS?" I ask. I don't think I'm the only one who needs more information about that. Rebecca explains vaguely that they're a gang of dangerous bikers potentially after Tanner – and the entire family – but nobody in the room seems to know why.

"How is that even possible?" Anna says. "Wouldn't the Barbarians have heard of this club with such a close connection?"

"Do they seem like they're paying close attention to anything?" Rebecca says. "It sounds like there has been one problem after another the past year or so."

Anna shrugs. "I guess so."

"Are there any other theories?" I ask.

"Sure," Rebecca says. "Magnum Sinclair might have rented an apartment in Santa Monica to a Midnight SS member."

Anna shrugs. "He's a landlord. He doesn't know his tenants."

"It's still a connection," Tamiya says.

"Right," Anna says. "But maybe you had a point about being careful what we insinuate."

"I'll talk to Gideon," Tamiya says. "I can reason with him."

Anna raises her eyebrow. "Is Gideon the most rational option here?

"I know," Tamiya says with a smirk that is definitely more proud than remorseful. "But I can still reason with him."

"Nobody on that list is a Shaw," Deb says. "My son can handle this information objectively. Instead of involving your beloved hotheads… take it to him."

It's the comment only a drunken mother-in-law can get away with and everyone in the room must think she's lowkey right, because after about a minute of silence, Tamiya says. "Well. I can't argue with that."

We discuss our theories until late into the night. I'm the first one who can't seem to keep my eyes open, so Anna suggests I head to bed. The only comfortable sleep outfit that matches my vibe I can find to change into is some giant t-shirt that appeared in my laundry after Deb helped me out the other day. I throw that on over some underwear and climb into bed, ready to pass out.

All the club stuff they talk about should scare me more, but it just doesn't.

After the hell I went through…

I'm just happy to be free. I don't think I'll ever feel that unsafe.

Not with Tanner around.

It's weird but… I miss him. And the t-shirt I found in my laundry kind of smells familiar. The scent makes it easy to feel comfortable, which in turn makes it easy to fall asleep. Tomorrow.

I'll see Tanner tomorrow.