Edge Of Darkness (Arrow's Edge MC #2) - Freya Barker Page 0,18

and Luna comes marching in, shooting daggers at her husband.

“Oh shit,” Ouray mumbles.

I use that as my cue.

CHAPTER 7

Lissie

I’M TEMPTED TO take off after him, but I came with Ramirez, so I have to wait.

Ouray is trying to calm down Luna, an agent for the FBI, whose short frame doesn’t make her any less impressive. This is a woman you don’t mess with, as her husband seems to be discovering.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“Lots of shit you can’t tell me either.”

“That’s my job, Ouray.”

I watch as the large man leans in, his nose almost touching his wife’s.

“Looking after those boys is mine, Sprite. You know that. I wanna find out what happened to their families, and I’m not sure it’s at the top of the FBI priority list.”

“Don’t you think I want that?” she argues.

“All right, guys,” Ramirez cuts in there. “I’d still like to know how Nowak ended up on the radar.”

For a moment it’s like Tony hasn’t even spoken, but then both turn their attention to him.

“Coincidence,” Ouray replies. “After the raid last year, Red heard rumors floating around that Hinckle had been seen wining and dining some bigwig who was in town trying to buy up the local TV station.”

“Nowak,” Tony confirms.

Hinckle was the former politician and known white supremacist, who ran the training facility for the ANL on his property in Moab.

“Right. That’s what we found out. It wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine what the two might’ve had in common. What was a stretch was to consider what Nowak might get out of an investment we discovered he had in a subdivision in Durango. Especially on land owned by Hinckle.”

“So you guys decided to join him?”

Ouray shrugs. “It was a way to keep an eye on things. Red managed to get a couple of guys signed up with one of the contractors on the project, and he has a connection in the developer’s office.”

_______________

It’s dark outside by the time I leave the police station, my mind swirling with all the information that came pouring in today. It took a while to process and plan next steps for tomorrow.

I managed to stuff my private file in my bag on the way out the door. Each time the Mesa Riders MC was mentioned, my ears perked up. It sounds so familiar. I could swear I’ve heard that name before and I think it may be somewhere in my notes.

Journaling had become a way for me to escape when I was still living at the ranch with my father and brothers. No longer having Mom to talk to, I resorted to writing things down in notebooks. My friend, Dani, had been my only other outlet.

We were in kindergarten together and stayed joined at the hip ever since. Dani was a bit of a wild child, always pushing boundaries and getting herself in trouble. Ten years ago, she got tired of trying to fit into a mold and took off on the back of a motorcycle, chasing the wind.

She called a few times at first, but then we lost touch. The phone number I had for her was no longer in service and until that surprise call early this year, I hadn’t heard from her in many years. Despite her hurried whispers, I had no problem recognizing her voice, but before I could ask any questions the line went dead. The number she called me from was unlisted, so I couldn’t even call her back.

I’m in trouble, Lissie. Big trouble. There’s someone in Durango who—

I have no idea what she was going to say and she didn’t call again, but I pulled every page with reference to Dani from my journals and put them in a file. Hoping to find some clue to her whereabouts.

Pulling into the parking lot, I notice the main light in the office is out, but a faint glow is coming from a window of the small apartment beside it. When I park the truck and get out, I hesitate for a second, wondering if I should go check on him, but then I rush up the stairs to my front door.

The tension between Yuma and Ouray was obvious from their earlier exchange, which I assume is the reason he took off like that. If he wants to talk, I already made it clear my door would be open. I don’t want to force myself on him.

I’ve barely flipped on the lights and dropped my stuff on the island, when a knock