Page 7 of The Hangman's Rope

“That’s nuts,” I said with a note of disbelief.

“Whole thing is. Get her to your place, keep her under wraps. I got Requiem and Specter doing the digging. I’ll have the doc come by and draw some blood and run it. Sounds like this shit likes to linger in the system. Sometimes days, sometimes up to a few weeks or more. Not sure who came up with it but it sounds like it’s a strong case for ‘just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.’”

“H.U.A,” I said, which sounded like hoo-ah, but stood for Heard, Understood, and Acknowledged.

“You got some kind of rapport going with her. Try to keep that shit up for right now and hopefully we can get somewhere and get there quick on this.”

“I’m pissed too,” I said, looking at her.

“Fucking Reaper,” Synister muttered with a sigh. “I’m hoping someday that shit will be funny, but right now it just complicates things.”

I grunted in acknowledgment on that one and sighed, too. We’d do what it took to protect Reap and the club’s reputation. Scary, yes, that’s the rep we wanted. This perverted corpse fucking shit? That we absolutely didnotwant getting out. We had a reputation for a lot of things, were in a lot of ways the boogeyman of the city – but some things we weren’t. Perverts? Sure, within reason. Rapists? No. Fuck no. That we absolutely were not. Nor did we allow certain kinds of drugs to sweep our streets. Like Synister had said, it was bad for business.

Our business was in underground card games and running guns, sometimes making this problem or that problem disappear. We even ran an underground fight or two – again, to bring the big money out to play.

We were a playground for the rich and the elite. A tourist town from bottom to top. The city had a reputation as much as we did and we relied on that reputation to keep visitors coming and going – but not in a pine fucking box or out by way of ambulance.

I looked at Syn and said, “It’s not the Manse, or the Ritz, but it’s better than the fucking crypt.” He nodded.

“Anything is better than the crypt. Be grateful my Madi’s softened me up some to even consider it.”

“It backfires, I’ll take the fall,” I said, looking back to Lorelai.

“Fuckin’ right you will,” he shot back. “You think that’s her name?” he asked and I nodded.

“It was an automatic response. She only got tripped up when I asked for her last name – which I get. I’ve seen dudes out in the field with head injuries forget their own name before. Brain stuff is weird. I would definitely have the doc meet us ASAP and make sure it’s drug and not some kind of injury.”

Syn grunted an affirmative sound and gave me a shove in the direction of the strange young woman who was dead until she wasn’t.

I couldn’t wait to find out who was responsible for making her our problem, or how this was going to shake out.

It was a pickle, for sure.

Wasn’t her fault she was here, but her being here complicated a lot of things for us.

Here was hoping we could unravel the mystery fast and come to some sort of solution that didn’t involve finishing what was started when she first arrived.

I mean… fuck. She seemed nice, was definitely pretty, and I hated to see a flower as pretty as that clipped and die too soon.

I’d seen enough of that shit.

Chapter Four

Lorelai…

I stood, shivering, under the watchful gaze of the one called Grim. I didn’t know what kind of a name that was, certainly not his real name. Of course, I didn’t think “Hangman” was a real name either. My foggy thoughts and memory worried me. The more I thought about the name “Lorelai” the more familiar it became. It was like I kneweveryonehad a last name, but I couldn’t for the life of me think of mine.

Lorelai, Lorelai, Lorelai… but Lorelai, what?

I hugged myself, feeling really damn vulnerable in just the thin flannel shirt with the sleeves turned up past my wrists. I felt like I had to hunch or crouch a little to make it long enough to cover my bits, and it was distinctly uncomfortable. Now that I could get a better look at him, I was studying Hangman through the square windows with the rounded corners that were set in the swinging doors. I could see just head and shoulders as he spoke to the threatening man, with the dark hair and aviators, in the leather jacket.

Hangman was bearded, some gray just starting to show around his mouth. His sandy blond hair was pulled back into a short ponytail and curled at the back of his neck where it was too short to make it into the tie. He had a strong nose and jawline, and I swallowed hard when he turned his golden-green gaze from the sinister-looking man who’d threatened me to fix it on mine.

His lips pursed, and he nodded at something the other man said. I could hear the low murmur of their conversation from here, but I couldn’t make out anything that they said over the low mechanical hum of the refrigeration units back here.

“Won’t be long and we’ll get you someplace warmer.” I startled at the sound of the man’s voice who stood with me, keeping an eye on me. I guess I hadn’t expected him to speak.

“Appreciate it,” I muttered and I winced, hoping that it hadn’t come across as sarcastic or rude. There was no telling what they would do, and so it behooved me to remain polite, placating even.

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