Page 32 of Ride Forever
I stared at him.
“What about that fire? A convoy of motorcycles was seen leaving a cabin on the border of Joshua Tree. A cabin, which burned to the ground. You know what emblem was on the jackets of those men? The crossed swords of Fortitude Motorcycle Club.”
I felt like rolling my eyes, but I held on tight.
“You shot and killed your father that night, Betty. Point-blank in the chest.”
I noted that he didn’t produce a photo of the body.
“What were you doing at the Halcyon?”
Man, I was getting tired. I wondered what Chaser was doing. Hopefully, he was working on a way to break me out without bringing down the hammer of the law on us. Posting bail? I wondered if he’d called Gasket. They needed to do a scrub for renegades in the remaining crew, but the more Sloss talked, the more I wondered if there was a mole or if it was all just unsubstantiated evidence from Rocket—who, Chaser told me, had been left for dead—or one of his renegade buddies.
Sloss stared at me, clearly frustrated with my silence.
A knock at the door elicited a sharp sigh from my interrogator, and he stood, the chair scraping on the floor. Flashing me one last glare, he strode over and left, leaving me with the photographs of mine and Chaser’s road trip adventure. The jacket slipped from my shoulders and fell to the floor. What a mess.
My gaze flew to the door as it opened again, but instead of Agent Sloss, another man walked in. He didn’t look like FBI in his sharp tailored suit. It was black with a subtle gray pinstripe, matching shirt, and silk tie. His silver-streaked hair was swept back in a fancy quiff, and a short, clipped, neat beard gave a rough edge to his refined appearance. When his gaze met mine, a chill prickled my skin. There was nothing there. No light, no anger, no happiness…just…nothing.
“Do you know who I am?” the man asked. His voice was deep and gravelly with just a hint of a Southern accent.
I glanced at the mirror, then at the security camera.
“No one’s watching,” he said. “What happens from here on out is off the official record.”
As he folded himself into the chair that Sloss had occupied earlier, he unbuttoned his suit jacket with practiced flair. This was a guy who loved his refinement, reveled in class and intellectual manipulation. It could only be one person.King.
“I know what you did,” he said. “That’s the only reason I’m talking to you now, Sloane. Theonlyreason.”
“So you’re King…” I mused, tilting my head to the side. “Honestly, I can’t see what all the fuss is about.”
If he was here, then all this… It meant nothing. It was a ruse to get me into custody, to shift the sands of power into the hands of the Hollow Men. Their reach went further than Chaser or I had believed if he was sitting in an FBI field office, looking as smug as he did right now. We hadn’t been fighting a monster sent up from the bowels of Hell, we’d been fighting Satan himself.
“This was a setup from the beginning, wasn’t it?” I asked. “Everything we’ve done…”
“You’re a smart girl,” King drawled. “Tell me, how much did you love your father?”
“Why the hell do you care?”
“I’m trying to gauge what kind of women you are, Sloane. It is Sloane, isn’t it? Betty does not suit you at all…” He tilted his head to the side and studied me. “I couldn’t flay and fuck a Betty. Too…proper. But Sloane…”
My only chance was to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse. I had to stick to the plan. I had to give him Chaser on a silver platter.
“My father never loved me,” I began. “He felt nothing when my mother was murdered, and he was going to sell me to you. He had no regard for human life.”
“So, no love lost.” He curled his lip. “But why did you kill him.”
“Excuse me?”
“Why, Sloane? It’s a simple question. Why did you murder your father?” He shivered, then let out a laugh. “Even I didn’t kill my own father. That’s twisted.”
Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait…
When I didn’t reply, King sighed and shook his head. “I’m disappointed. As Anthony Marini’s daughter, I expected more from you.”
“I may be his daughter, but I’m not him,” I said, my voice low.
King’s expression twisted into anger, and he slammed his fist on the table, making me jump. “Why?” he bellowed.
