Page 118 of Rider Daddies
And I appreciate you giving me a comfortable chair.
Willow helps me sit down and looks up at me with a scared face. She was only supposed to drop me off, but now apparently they want to ask her some questions too.
“You want me to find it in my heart to forgive you?” I whisper at her. “You tell them that it was an accident. You were out with the bikers and saw me lose control of the vehicle. There was a shadow, like an animal or something. Maybe that’s why I lost control, because I was trying to miss it. You tell them that it was too dark to tell.”
Willow nods just as two officers come and swoop the pair of us away, sending us into two separate rooms. The chair in the interview room doesn’t look as comfy, but the officer takes it upon himself to swap it out for the one I was sitting in at reception.
I want to believe it’s a goodwill gesture, but you never know with the cops.
“So, Lucia Bianchi.” He tucks himself into the chair and squares his eyes at me. “We’ve been sending units out searching for you.”
How generous.
“One of them has reason to believe that you were at a clubhouse way out in the desert.”
“It was the first place I could find after…” I stop myself, backtracking to make this all sound plausible. “I escaped Sunshine Motel and randomly stumbled upon a motorcycle clubhouse.”
“It must have been quite the hike.”
“Don’t remind me.”
The cop drums his fingers on the table. “Your partner, Tristan—he was worried about you. But he found you, didn’t he, out in the desert?”
“Correct.”
“Which would explain why he was in the passenger seat of your car.”
“Hiscar,” I correct. “Yeah, Tristan doesn’t drive in the dark. I’ve been telling him time and time again to get his eyes tested, but he has a weird ick when it comes to people messing around with his eyes.”
“Tristan didn’t survive the car crash, Lucia.”
“I know,” I say, perhaps in a tone far too celebratory for a woman who is supposed to be the love of his life. I lower my voice an octave. “I know.”
How are people supposed to act when they’re heartbroken?
I think about losing the biker brothers and feel the corners of my mouth drag down.
“I found out earlier today when I woke up.” I bat my lashes, hoping to squeeze out a tear. I dab the corner of my two very dry eyes and pretend to sniffle. “Sorry, this is difficult for me, as you can imagine. Can we move on?”
“Of course. Yes. Sorry.” He turns over a page in his book. “Where were you and Tristain heading?”
“Out of the desert. He found me. We were going back…home,” I choke out.
The cop nods and starts note-taking.
“He found me at the clubhouse,” I say.
“The two of you are co-workers?”
“Technically, he was my manager.”
“And the two of you met at work?”
What the fuck does this have to do with the collision?
I nod and hope that we’re getting to the end of this.
“You’re a lawyer, Lucia, is that right?”
