Page 17 of The Belle and the Biker

"This is a perfect time for you to come back home," Aunt Hepzibah continues. "I need someone as a character witness in my upcoming court appearance; that bitch Mae Abernathy is refusing to drop the charges."

Oh, good gravy. I'd rather wrestle a greased pig than get caught between those two old biddies.

"I can't leave work. I need to pay the rent."

"Oh, how you do carry on. I'm sure it's not as bad as all that, but I'll pay the bills while you're here, seeing as you'll be helping me by going to court."

"Why do you need me to testify? We've got more family up there than you can shake a stick at."

"Because I need you to bat those baby blues at the judge. Your side of the family is especially good at faking being sweet and believable, that and lying."

This is true, I'm afraid. Well, it used to be, and I'm sure it would come right back—like riding a bicycle.

But I'm not giving up yet. "I'm also caring for a small dog I found, and I don't have anyone to watch her."

"Well, I've got a big yard. I will call and book you a ticket for this afternoon as soon as I hang up. Please be at the airport on time. I know that punctuality isn't your side of the family's strong point."

"This really isn't the best time," I protest. The truth is, no time would be ideal. I don't want to be back in Swampy Bottom County; I'm not ready yet, for many reasons.

My mother, for one. She actually took Percy's side when he cheated on me, and she told me that women in our family don't divorce. That is a fact. We may make our husbands wish they were dead, and a few men in our family may have expired under suspicious circumstances, but we don't divorce. When I wouldn't take Percy back, she threw me out and cut me off with nothing. My father just sheepishly followed along with it like he always does. That really hurt. I thought he'd stick up for me. I was always way closer to Daddy than I was to Mama.

I'm also not anxious to display the fact that I've gained fifty pounds around town. Nobody in New York knew me when I was bone-thin. Back home, everyone will be whispering behind their hands—exactly how I used to gossip about other people. I shouldn't care, but I kind of do.

Of course, I'm sure to run into Percy, my ex-husband. He dumped my ex-best friend Mimi because she started pushing for a wedding ring the day our divorce went through, but he's already got new arm candy. Fun!

And then there's the idea of lying on the witness stand. "I don't know if committing perjury will be good for my karma," I say doubtfully.

"You don't even have a car right now! And what does your testimony have to do with how well your car runs? I swear, child, you'd try the patience of Job."

"Well, now, I wouldn't dream of visiting you, knowing how I ride on your last nerve." I sound all sweet and worried. "At your age, it wouldn't be good for your ticker."

"All right, then, I suppose I'll have come to New York so I can keep an eye on you, what with the crazy person trying to kill you and all. Of course, I'll be on the run from the law because I won't be able to show up at my court appearance." She sighs. "I won't last long in prison. So I'll have to update my will. Lord Almighty. After all the things I've done for you…"

Oh, for the love of God. The women in our family are so manipulative.

"Fine," I snap. "Buy the ticket. For me and the dog. You win."

"I always do." And she hangs up.

I turn my wrath on Crash. "Well, that's just great; now she's insisting I go home."

I expect him to protest. Of course, he will. He just said he would stick by my side every second until the killer is caught. But he lifts his burly shoulders in a shrug. "I think that's for the best, don't you?"

A rush of emotion chokes me, and hot tears prick my eyelids. I blink furiously and head to the kitchen to make myself some tea so he can't see me trying not to cry. When Crash and I are together, we spar all the time, but it still hurts that he's so eager to get rid of me. I guess he didn't want to be my bodyguard after all, and it was just a matter of protecting the club's image.

With the kettle set to boil, I swivel around to face him. "I'd like you to leave now," I say stiffly. "I need to call Tawny and let her know and pack."

His brow furrows. "Well, you need someone here with you. Axl's sleeping off a hangover, so I'll get Sprocket to come over here and keep an eye on you. And you'll have an escort to the airport."

Sprocket is their sergeant at arms, in charge of security for the club. "No problem. As long as it's not you."

His eyes darken with anger. "Fine."

"Good."

"Great. I'm going to go pack." I stomp off to the bedroom and slam the door behind me.

"Fantastic!" he yells at the door, and then there's nothing but angry silence.

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