Page 76 of Knot My MC
“All the more reason for them to keep me out of club business, don’t you think?” I place my hands on the table. “Are we done here?”
“You don’t think your dad would do something like this, do you?”
I scowl. “No.”
“Are you sure about that? His daughter—no, his beloved daughter being auctioned off to the rival gang?”
“Motorcycle Club,” I snap. “It’s not a gang.”
Semantics. It’s essentially a gang.
“Spare me, Malone.”
The door to the holding room swings open and in walks the captain himself. “Valdez, take a break.”
She looks ready to protest, but one stern glance from her boss has her nodding and slipping out of the room. Captain Riley sits across from me. Back when I met him, he wasn’t in charge. He wasn’t a dick to me either. That I can appreciate.
“Ms. Malone.” He drums his fingers on the metal table. “How’ve you been?”
“Let me guess, you’re the good cop? I was told I needed to provide a statement. I did that. No offense, Captain Riley, but we’re not friends and you’re not entitled to know how I’ve been.”
His lips press together, and he nods, sitting in silence for a stretch.
“So am I free to go?”
“I have a few more questions.”
With a heavy sigh, I sit back. “I already told your officer—”
“Where’s your father, Kiki?”
My mouth snaps closed. What? Why is he asking that? “I don’t know. Probably at the clubhouse.”
“He hasn’t been home.”
I lean forward and study his face. “Have you been keeping tabs on Wrecker, Riley?”
“It’s literally my job to keep an eye on criminals.”
“Then you should know the Hell Hounds bought me at the auctions, which means I haven’t seen my dad since they brought me home.”
“You haven’t talked to him?”
“They threw my phone out.” Lie, lie, and lie some more.
“Your dad wouldn’t accept not being able to contact you, Kiki. If you’re protecting him—”
“I told you, Riley. I don’t know where he is.” I clench my jaw and hold his gaze. “Why are you looking for him? He didn’t do this.”
“I believe that,” the captain says. He tosses a contact card onto the table, and I pick it up and stare at it.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“You let me know if you hear from your dad. Tell him I’m looking for him.” He stands and opens the door. “You’re free to go. Thanks for coming in.”
“Thanks for inviting me,” I snip, shoving out of the chair. “You know how much I love it here.” I slip the card into my pocket. I have no intention of using it, but I’m not about to throw it away in front of him.
“Still sour about facing the consequences of your actions?”
