Page 73 of Shadow's Surrender
“It fuckin’ better be or we’re screwing up big time.”
A small smile ghosted the investigator’s lips. “I just found out basic things like your age, where you went to high school, if you had any arrests—that sort of stuff.”
“And my parents, right?” Tightness spread through his body and his jaw clenched.
“Yes. That stuff’s in the records.”
“Did you turn over that shit to the Mansfields?”
“Not yet—they already know you’re in the Insurgents, but that’s all they know.” Sweat dripped into his eyes and he blinked.
Shadow let go of Bowen and he watched as the PI wiped his face with the front of his shirt.
“You’re not gonna give them shit, got it?”
Bowen looked up at him. “They gave me a thousand-dollar retainer that my wife and I have pretty much used up.”
“How much for the whole job?” Shadow kept his gun on the private investigator.
“Another thousand—so two in total.”
“Fuckin’ cheapskates,” Shadow muttered under his breath.
“Everything that I have is in the public records. You’re from here, so learning your real name wasn’t hard. There’s no way I can pay them back.”
Shadow watched the man with the broad shoulders crumple before him. “Just give them the record shit, but nothing about my mom, you got that? If they wanna find out more about me, they can check the fuckin’ records themselves. Rich sonsofbitches.”
“I remember when your mother was killed. Awful stuff,” Charlie said in a low voice. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Don’t think I won’t hesitate to put a bullet through you or slit your throat.”
The private eye sighed. “I don’t.”
“Forget about me and I’ll forget about you.” Shadow placed the gun near Bowen’s head. “And you definitely want me to forget-the-fuck about you.”
“I’ll tell them it’s gotten too dangerous with you being in the club.” Charlie looked down at the ground. “I wouldn’t be lying.”
“If you get into my business again, I’ll kill your picture-perfect family, and I won’t blink an eye in doing so.” Shadow watched as surprise and fear inched across the investigator’s face. “Just rememberthat. You want to stay under the radar with me and my club.”
“I … uh … I don’t want any trouble from you guys.”
“Then stay smart.” Shadow placed his gun in his waist then grabbed Bowen’s shirt and threw him down on the ground, kicking him sharply in the side. The private eye let out a low groan, and Shadow landed another blow to the guy before walking back to his Harley.
The bike roared to life, and a moment later, Shadow sped away like a bullet from a gun. Anger burned through him—a molten rage threatening to overflow. He gripped the handlebars tightly, his knuckles white with strain. It took all of his steely discipline to keep from going to the Mansfield house and confronting Scarlett’s fucking parents. Instead, he took a sharp left and headed to Grove Valley—a ride that always helped to clear his head and calm the rage.
An hour later, Shadow sauntered into the clubhouse and noticed the badges, McCue and Ibuado, seated at a table. Several members leaned against the bar, their lips pressed into a thin line, their faces taut, giving the two badges the evil eye while the club girls gaped at them from the sectional sofa on the other side of the room.
Shadow lifted his chin at McCue when the detective rose to his feet.
“How are you?” the badge asked.
“Good.” Shadow motioned to Skinless to bring him a beer. In less than a second, the prospect handed him a bottle and hurried back to the bar.
“Is there somewhere we can go to talk?” McCue asked as he watched Shadow take a swig of beer.
“I’m good here.” Shadow pulled the chair out from the table, then raised one leg and placed his foot on the seat.
McCue glanced around the room, then shrugged. “Okay,” he said as he took out a notepad and pen from an inner pocket of his jacket and eased his body back into the chair.
