Chapter Ten

Talon

I'm woken by the incessant buzzing of my cell phone. It's Silvia, demanding that I come to her house to talk. I hang up in the middle of her tirade, she's been harassing the hell out of me for days and I've had enough. I have no idea where all this is coming from, in all the years I was married to her sister she never gave any indication that she was interested in me, now she's coming on like a batshit crazy woman scorned. When my phone beeps to alert me that she's left a message, I reluctantly listen to it.

Most of the message is her calling me a piece of shit who thinks I'm too good for her. She calls me biker trash and a few other choice insults before accusing me of not protecting her sister. I groan because I kind of blame myself for taking Rigs' advice to chill out before confronting her. My natural inclination had been to track her down and have it out with her, but I thought I was being smart to wait until I was more levelheaded. Now, I think if I'd tracked her down and brought her home, she wouldn't have been killed because I would have been there to protect her. Towards the end of the long and rambling voice mail she says, "I think you killed her yourself because you were furious that she cheated on you."

I jolt upright in bed when Silvia comes right out and accuses me of killing Sandra myself. I continue to listen. She's raving about me having a life insurance policy out on her sister and wanting to get rid of her because I didn't want her getting what she was due in the divorce. She closes off the voice mail by saying "I've told my suspicions to the police and they're in the process of getting another warrant for your arrest."

Shit, I know better than to doubt her. Silvia is ten times crazier than Sandra ever thought of being.

I check the time. It's seven in the fucking morning. I grab a shower and get on my motorcycle. The only thing I can do at this point is try to convince Kelly Collins to come forward and give a deposition about me being at the park the night my wife was killed. I know she's scared, but it's the only way I can be free from all this mess. I have to make her see sense, I'm pretty sure my wife was killed by one of the men she was seeing on the side—there's no reason on earth why they would target Kelly if she came forward. I set my navigation app with her home address, hoping that I'll have more luck convincing her without her meathead of a security guard from work hovering around, listening to every word we say. I get to her apartment and beat on the door. She answers wearing cute cat pajamas with her blond hair all messed up. All out of fucks to give, I push past her and storm into her apartment. No more Mr. Nice Guy.

I hear her say, "What the fuck are you doing. Damn it. Get back here."

I don't. Instead, I march into her living room. She follows me in, glaring at me with her phone in her hand looking like she's ready to call the cops, which is the absolute last thing that I need.

"I don't know what you're playing at, but if you don't do an about face and turn your ass around, I'm calling the police. Right now."

"Give me five minutes," I say. "Please."

Her finger comes off the phone and her eyes meet mine. She looks furious, but also scared. She's not scared of me, so something else is upsetting her. Her expression goes neutral, and she says, "Five minutes."

"Okay, you know the story about my wife getting murdered. Things had been bad for a while but like an idiot I thought we could turn it around. The day she was murdered I found evidence she was cheating on me, had been for years—even before we tied the knot," I pause, and meet Kelly's eyes. She's listening and I hope she's gonna let me continue because this might take more than five minutes.

"I went to see her sister, because she sent me a text saying that's where she was. I knew she wasn't, but went anyway. Her sister, Silvia, confirmed everything, then the crazy bitch tried to hit on me. Seriously? Long story short, you know about the arrest and being let off. Anyway, her sister has been bugging me constantly, wanting us to hook up and now she's just sent me this," I access my voicemail and hit play.

After listening to the whole crazy tirade and accusation, Kelly catches me by surprise and snatches the phone out of my hand and promptly places a call to Silvia, putting her on speaker.

Silvia's smooth voice comes through the phone, sounding like the cat that got the cream. "I knew you would eventually see thing my way, especially when your ass was on the line, Talon."

Kelly's clipped voice replies, "I don't know who in the world you think you are, but if you dare make unfounded accusations against Talon, we'll take you to court for slander."

"Who the hell are you," Silvia demands.

"I'm the woman who can vouch for the fact that Talon was nowhere near his house the night his wife was killed."

"Liar!"

"It's absolutely true. He was with me for hours that night."

"What are you saying, that after all the complaining about my sister cheating on him, he was doing the same to her?"

"Hell, no. Maybe. Jesus, I don't know." Glancing at me, she starts again. "All I know is I saw him several times over the course of three or four hours, and we were at least an hour out of town. He couldn't physically be in Las Salinas and out in the country too."

"I think you're lying for him. The cops will want to talk to you. I'm not letting the two of you get away with killing my sister."

"That's crazy talk, and I don't know where you're getting it from."

Silvia starts screaming all manner of abusive shit. Kelly frowns down at the phone and disconnects the call with a flick of her finger and then throws the phone back at me. "There. I told her crazy sister it wasn't you. Now, get the hell out of my apartment and don't come back or I will call the police."

I gape at her, totally shocked that she honestly thought this was going to be the end of it. It's one thing talking to Silvia, but I want a cast iron alibi because I don't believe that this is the last of it.

"This is not going to stop her." I press the phone to my head as I start to pace in her living room.

"What the hell is going on here? Why does her family think you killed your wife?" Taking a horrified step back she asks, "Did you kill your wife and do something to obscure the time of her death?"

I stop pacing and stare at her. "What? Seriously? You cannot possibly think I'm a fucking criminal mastermind." Holding my arms out to my sides, I ask, "Take a long hard look at me. Do I look like the kind of man who's capable of murdering his wife and then covering it up so good the fucking police crime lab and medical examiner can't figure it out? If I wanted rid of her, I would have divorced her, which trust me, I had every intention of doing."

Choosing not to answer my question directly, she asks, "Why does your wife's sister think you killed her? Was there a history of domestic violence or anything like that in play?"

"Of course not. Silvia's deceptive and manipulative. I told you, she wants to hook up with me, but I turned her down. Now she's apparently out to punish me."

"You're hot, but not go to jail for perjury hot," she flings back.

As agitated as I am with this situation, I have to fight back a smile. "That's what I thought too, but here we are. The woman is clearly insane."

"You and your sister-in-law both sound cuckoo for cocoa puffs. You do realize that, right?"

"Hey, I'm just a guy wanting to clear his name and get on with his life. As for her, I'm not even going to argue that point."

Looking totally bewildered, she says, "You might as well come into the kitchen and have some coffee, because we really need to sort this out."

I thank God because this is a start. I follow her into the kitchen trying not to watch her ass and the way it jiggles through the thin fabric of her pajamas. This is a serious matter and I'm not used to my cock jumping in with its opinion on attractive women. Well, okay sometimes it does, but not when my freedom is on the line. "Look, I'm really sorry about barging in on you but I'm getting desperate. The cops in this town hate bikers and can't seem to be able to get their head around the idea that when a woman turns up dead, the killer isn't automatically her husband or boyfriend."

She responds as she inserts a pod into her coffee maker. "Statistically speaking, it usually is the male partner, so I can see where they're going with that idea."

"Well, this time it isn't, and you're the only person on the face of the earth who can vouch for my whereabouts."

"That's not entirely true." Pulling the cup from the coffee pot, she hands it to me, replaces the pod and shoves another cup underneath the drip. Whirling around to look at me, she clarifies. "My father and brother also saw you that night when they came to pick me up and again when we drove by your campsite after we fixed my flat."

"You're absolutely right. I don't know why I didn't think of that? So, you think they'd vouch for me?" I ask, feeling my hopes rise again.

"They can only vouch for seeing you later on in the evening. Depending on the time of death, their statements might not fully exonerate you."

I step forward. "I hate to pressure you, but I really need you to give a deposition to my attorney about seeing me that night. This isn't gonna go away anytime soon."

She grabs her cup and holds it between both hands. "Is it true what you said about your sister-in-law wanting to hook up with you?"

I unlock my phone and scroll through the increasingly crazy texts she's been sending me and show Kelly, as I answer her question. "Yeah, she does. The thing is, I always knew my wife was way out in left field. She blew tons of money, was rarely at home and the day she died, I discovered she had been cheating on me for the entire duration of our marriage. I always thought of Silvia as the stable, sane sister. Somehow, losing her sister has pushed her over the edge. And I don't know how to handle her anymore."

"Alright," she says reluctantly. "What do I have to do?"

"I need you to meet with my attorney. He'll know who you need to talk to at the police station and make all the arrangements."

"I still don't like being involved, I've seen what happens to colleagues who get involved in domestics, but I can't in good conscience let you take the rap for something you didn't do. When I heard that the charges had been dropped, I didn't think you needed my statement. But if you're right about the sister, then I have to do this. Who's your attorney?"

"Marcus Drake. I can get you on his schedule this morning if you like."

"How does this work? Does he take a written statement, or do I need to go to the police after talking to him? I need to know how long this is going to take so I can make arrangements for the other social worker to cover me at work."

I feel both gratitude and relief that she has agreed to help. "I'm not sure. What I do know is that my attorney will be with you every step of the way when you talk to the police. I truly need your help, or I wouldn't put you on the spot."

She takes a sip of her coffee and gazes at me over the rim. "I said I'd do. You don't have to worry about me going back on my word."

"I don't understand what you're afraid of happening here?"

I see something flicker in her expression, and again she looks scared, "Obviously, I'm worried the real killer will try to shut me up."

I reach out to give her arm a reassuring squeeze. "Why would they do that?"

"Don't you think it strange that she was found in your house? You said you only found out she was cheating the day of her death. That doesn't sound like she was cheating on other men in the home you both shared, because surely you would have known?"

"You're right about that. I had no idea, I work irregular hours and often come home unexpectedly so I don't think she would have met up with any of her lovers there." I'm starting to see what she's getting at, and I don't like it one bit.

Her eyes narrow, "So maybe someone wanted to set you up? If it wasn't for me, you would have no alibi, who else knew you were going away for the night?"

"I told my club brothers and my crazy sister-in-law, but that's all. Don't you think you're overthinking things a bit?"

She raises her eyebrow, "That batshit crazy sister-in-law who wants to be in your bed?"

"No, no," I protest. "Silvia is crazy, but she wouldn't murder her own fucking sister."

She takes a mouthful of her coffee and closes her eyes in bliss. For a moment I forget my problems and imagine her eyes closing as my tongue sweeps over her wet pussy.

For fuck's sake, what is wrong with me? I quickly take a gulp of my coffee and almost choke on it. After waiting for my fit of coughing to subside she finally speaks.

"Okay, maybe I listen to too many true crime podcasts, and while I can't talk about my work because of client confidentiality, there's a case that's upsetting me. But putting that aside, doesn't it sound like someone could be setting you up?"

She has a point.

"I have no idea who the true killer is, but I'm willing to do everything in my power to protect you if there's any fallout."

She glances back down at her coffee cup, murmuring, "Maybe I can hang out with you at your homeless encampment down by the river."

I give her a mock annoyed look, though my heart jolts in my chest at the thought of her staying under my protection. "Now, I know you're aware that I'm not homeless. The various newspaper articles talk about my construction business. I have a nice home, or I did before all this went down and it's currently an active crime scene. At the moment I'm staying at the Savage Legion clubhouse."

I turn to face her, an idea suddenly coming to mind, that gets us both what we want. I get my alibi, and she gets protection until the killer is caught. "You could stay there with me. It's the most secure place I know. We have electronic security and men standing guard outside twenty-four-seven."

"I don't know if my employer would be happy for me to be associated with an outlaw biker club," she responds. "I'm in the public eye because of my work. If the state found out about me hanging out with criminals, the shelter I work for would never get another referral."

"We're not a damned one percent club," I fling back hotly. It always pisses me off when people lump all MCs together.

When she just stares at me and takes another sip of her coffee, I moderate my tone.

"That means we don't do any illegal shit. We're mostly veterans. Two of our club officers' old ladies work at CPS for fucks sake."

She rolls those pretty blue eyes and raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah, who are they?"

"Cleo our club president's wife, and then there's Mattie, she's a manager there."

Her eyes widen in recognition of the names. "I know Mattie vaguely, I sometimes get referrals from her—I had one the other day—but I had no idea she was married to a biker, I thought he was a preacher or something, at least from what I heard."

"He is a preacher, he deals with all the club's spiritual needs. But that's beside the point, if you know Mattie, then you must know that she'd never fall in with outlaws and even if she did, the state wouldn't allow her to adopt a kid if she was living with an active gang member."

She responds quietly, "I believe they made that distinction in the news article as well. Sorry to make baseless accusations."

I take a step closer to her, my curiosity getting the better of me. "Did you mean what you said earlier?"

She nods firmly, setting her now empty cup aside. "Helping you is the right thing to do. You don't deserve to be locked up for a crime you didn't commit. So, like I said before, I've decided to do what I can to help you."

"Not that," I respond. Now the immediate threat to my freedom has been abated, other thoughts have entered my mind, and I can feel my cock punching at the front of my jeans. "Did you mean it when you called me hot?"

Kelly starts blushing furiously, before admitting, "Yeah, you're hot. That's like saying water's wet and the sky is blue."

She turns her back and goes to put our mugs in the dishwasher, offering me another glimpse of her delicious ass.

Whether it was her words of encouragement or relief, when she stands and turns to me, suddenly I'm there in a flash pinning her against the counter. The material of her pajamas is so thin I can feel the heat of her body through them. My heart's racing and I want to capture her lips, but the look on her face is enough to make me calm the fuck down, so instead I say, "I think you're hot too."

She gently pushes me back, and I immediately regret being so forward. I'm a grown ass man not some teenager who can't keep his hands to himself. I've just tried to convince her that my club isn't an outlaw club, and then gone all caveman on her.

Just when I'm about to start apologizing, I see the flush on her face and the slight smile playing over her lips. "So, is this your thing in life?" She asks.

I lift my chin and ask, "Is what my thing?"

She gestures between us with one hand. "Being all pushy and domineering with women."

I back off like I've been burned, clearly, I've misread the situation. "Not normally but my life has been so fucking stressful lately. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"Well, you're going to need to slow your roll. If you're serious about avoiding being arrested for a crime you didn't commit, we should focus on that first."

Focus on that first… I mull over what she's just said. It might be way over a decade since I last dated anyone, and my seduction technique might need a bit of work, but to me, that sounds like I'm in with a chance.

She's looking at me like I've got two heads and I realize I'm grinning like an idiot.

"What's so funny?" she asks.

"Nothing at all," I say trying to sound as innocent as possible. "Just that what started out as a pretty shit morning, looks like it might be getting better by the second."

I straighten up and back away. Kelly seems very naive, quite innocent, and nothing like me or most of the people I know—I guess she's used to flirting, flowers, and courting. Well, I can do romance if that's what she's after. There is something about her that is pulling me close, it's not about the sex, if I just wanted release, I could go to any of the club whores. Sweet Kelly is about so much more.