“Maybe it was a lover’s quarrel gone bad,” Cora said to Captain Thompson. “We just found out Lindsey was seeing a guy who rides with the Booze Dogs. We were on our way to their compound to question him when you called us.”
“All right,” Thompson said with a nod. “Track him down, and bring him in.”
4
It was late afternoon when Liam found himself in a staring contest with a mountain of a man named Bear. The man stood on the other side of a chain-link fence at the motorcycle club compound known as The Doghouse. He was muscular to the point that it appeared uncomfortable, with huge, swollen biceps and legs the size of tree trunks. A bandanna held his hair flat against his boulder-shaped head, and tattoos snaked around his neck and forearms. With a huge hand resting on a faded sign that read TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT, he made an imposing gatekeeper. Behind him a long line of motorcycles was parked in front of a two-story building, and a party was in full swing on the lawn outside.
Cora flashed her badge with her usual professional politeness, but after initial introductions, Bear seemed less interested in her words and more interested in her lips, her chest, her legs and then her chest again. His grisly mouth lifted, and he let out a hum of pure male appreciation.
Liam stared daggers at him, shifting his weight to maneuver his shoulder in front of Cora. Bear sized him up, and for several long moments they had one of those silent male conversations that, in Liam’s experience, women often missed.
Don’t even think about it. She’s off-limits.
Sure about that?
Aye, so watch yourself or we’ll have a problem.
Bear scoffed, then turned his attention back to Cora.
“So we’d like to speak with one of your club members named Slice,” Cora was saying. “We were told he might be here.”
“Who?” Bear asked her chest.
“Slice,” Cora repeated. “We heard—”
“Who told you he’d be here?”
“That’s not your concern,” Liam said sharply. He was getting tired of the man’s wandering eyes. “Just go get him and be quick about it.”
Bear glared at Liam and turned to go. “Can’t help you.”
“We understand Slice has been seeing a woman named Lindsey Albright,” Cora said.
“Never heard of her, sweet cheeks.”
Liam hooked his fingers through the chain links, bristling at the man’s blatant disrespect. He’d never taken down a bear, but there was always a first time.
Cora tried again. “We believe she’s been coming here with Slice sometimes. We need to get some more information about her and—”
Bear let out a sound that almost passed for a laugh. He swung around and pointed to the party. “See those chicks?”
Scantily clad women danced to loud music thumping from car speakers in an open garage. Some were lounging with guys on fold-out chairs around a central fire pit, while others drank from red plastic cups as men hauled beer kegs off a flatbed pickup truck. A few women in wet T-shirts and cutoff shorts ran screeching and laughing from a man chasing them with a garden hose.
“We got girls coming and going here all the time,” Bear said. “Some new, some repeats, but all in it for the same reason. All looking to party and have fun, no questions asked. That’s how we like it. Ain’t got time to learn every chick’s name when it don’t matter in the long run.”
“Not even if she’s been murdered?” Cora called out.
Bear slowed to a stop. The ropey muscles on his neck and arms flexed like a wild animal bracing to defend its turf. His expression was downright feral. “What’s that got to do with the Booze Dogs?”
“Nothing, yet.” Liam kept his tone mild, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “We’re not here to make trouble with you or your club. We only want to talk to Slice.”
“He ain’t here,” Bear said. “The kid only hangs on the weekends, so you’re out of luck.”
“Do you know where we can find him?” Cora asked.
Bear gave a half shrug. “Maybe his mama’s house.”
“Where does she—” Liam began.
“I don’t know, man. Do I look like I got Google Maps stamped on my forehead?”
“Sorry we interrupted your party,” Cora said politely. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Bear.”
“It’s just Bear,” he said to Cora, letting his gaze roam over her one last time. The appreciative leer was back, and Liam wanted to stamp the man’s forehead with his fist. “Shame you’re a cop, or I’d invite you to come party.” He looked at Liam and growled, “Not you.”
Before Liam could react, Cora grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the car. The loud pop of fireworks started from somewhere inside the compound as they drove away.
“That man was an idiot,” Liam grumbled as they left billows of dust in their wake.
Cora grinned. “You’re just jealous he didn’t invite you to the wet T-shirt party.”
“What kind of a name is Bear, anyway?”
“A very appropriate one.”
“I didn’t like the way he spoke to you.”
“That was nothing,” Cora said with a laugh. “You should’ve heard Crack Rock Cecil going off on me when I had to interrogate him. He makes Bear sound like the butler from Downton Abbey.”
Liam grimaced, sinking into the car seat. Cecil was a former drug dealer who’d committed many other crimes, one of which was a mugging incident involving Liam. If it wasn’t for Cora’s dragging Cecil in for questioning, Liam wouldn’t have had an alibi during the time of John Brady’s murder. Liam could’ve lost his job, and even worse, his chance at redemption. He rubbed his face and gave a heavy sigh. After Cora’s musing about dating Magnus earlier, he’d been in a foul mood, which only grew worse with the death of Lindsey Albright. At times like this he felt like he was careening out of control. There were too many distractions and problems, when all he really needed to be worrying about was getting Cora to fall for Finn. As unsavory as that may be, it was priority one.
“You’re not really thinking about dating Magnus, are you?” he asked suddenly.
“No.” Cora looked at him like he was crazy. “After the week we’ve had, I can’t even think about dating. There’s too much going on, and all my energy needs to go into focusing on work. Right now all I want to do is go home, take a hot shower, drink a cold beer and zone out.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Liam said.