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.“Hey, man, those your bikes outside?”Honeywell’s flat eyes fastened on Alex’s face.“Fuck off.”Alex raised his eyebrows, curving his lips in a disarming smile.“Sweet rides, that’s all.”Honeywell nodded to the bartender, who poured another pitcher of beer.Alex studied him.On the surface, he was a good-enough-looking guy with a scruffy goatee.No obvious tattoos.The tips of his fingers were stained black—probably engine grease—but there was something hollow about his flat, blue eyes.Or was that just the cop in him talking? Surely it’s nothing a girl like Natalie would have noticed.“Know anything about bikes?” Honeywell asked.His voice had a lilt to it, a hangover from his formative years in Louisiana perhaps?“A little,” Alex said.“My buddy has a Ducati.” Alex cocked a thumb toward Luka’s pint of beer.“That makes him the fucking expert.” Honeywell’s attitude was dismissive, but Alex thought it seemed a little forced this time.“Yeah, that’s what I told him.You want a real bike, get a Shovelhead.”Honeywell paused, his eyes fixed on Alex, who held his gaze without flinching.This was the moment of truth.Would Honeywell engage? Alex’s pulse picked up as he waited for a response.“Look, Asshole, you don’t know shit about bikes.” Honeywell rolled his eyes.“If you did, you’d know that every dickhead and his pup owns a fucking Shovel and thinks they’re Easy Rider.” Honeywell leaned in, resting his elbow on the bar.“If you want a ride, get a Knucklehead.It’s ten times the bike of a fucking Shovel, and you won’t look like every other swinging-dick-weekend-warrior-fucknut on the road.”“Well okay,” Alex said, looking like he’d just been schooled by Honeywell’s response.“Not sure that I’ve ever seen one,” he said, taking a pull from his beer.“What’s so great about a Knucklehead?”“Oh, man.If you have to ask …” Honeywell shook his head slowly from side to side in mock incredulity.“Yeah, I know.” Alex grinned.He waved his hand at Honeywell in a self-deprecating gesture.“The wife is dead set against it.”“Fucking poser.”“Aren’t we all?” Alex asked.“We’re all so busy trying to look different that we all end up looking the same.”That won him a soft chuckle.He was getting somewhere.“Tell you what,” Honeywell said.“I’m going to bust out of here soon.Follow me outside, and I’ll show you the difference between a Shovelhead and a Knucklehead.”“Cool.”Honeywell wound his way through the crowd carrying the pitcher of beer.Alex watched as he exchanged a few words with a guy that Alex could only assume was none other than the infamous Henry “Duke” Dugan, Honeywell’s big, badass cousin.Duke’s dark hair was short, clean cut, and Alex could see small silver hoops winking from his earlobes.He was in his early thirties with a deep scar on his chin, and the same dead, blue eyes as his cousin.Alex saw Duke glance toward the bar and give a quick nod.Then Honeywell turned and headed toward the door in no particular hurry.Alex knew this was the moment of truth, his one chance to get Honeywell on his own.The smart thing to do would be to let him go.But the urge to get to know the guy who’d killed Natalie was too strong.Luka hadn’t returned by the time Alex stepped outside.The night air was cool on his hot skin.The parking lot was set back from the road, and he could hear the hum of cars passing by.Honeywell stood beside one of the motorcycles.As Alex watched, he slid his key in the ignition, and he motioned for Alex to come closer.Alex’s gut clenched as he closed the distance between them.Hyperaware of his surroundings, he focused on Honeywell’s eyes, which glittered darkly in the bright glow from the neon signs.Honeywell pointed down the line of motorcycles.“Shovelhead, Panhead, Knucklehead.Three different eras, three different motors.The V-Twin Pan came after the Knuckle.Shovel came after Pan.This one here,” he curved a long finger at the bike beside him, “has a Shovelhead engine.See how the rocker covers look like old coal shovels? Panheads have rocker covers that look like upside-down cake pans.Knuckleheads look like the knuckles on your hand.” Honeywell’s fingers clenched into a fist.“Now, if you lean in here and check this out,” he gestured, indicating something behind the rocker cover that Alex was certain he would find fascinating if he could bring himself to give a damn.“Seriously, check it out.This is the shit right here.”Alex leaned in, aware of the danger.Following Honeywell out here into the darkened parking lot hadn’t been smart.Drawing in a slow breath, he lowered his hand to his ankle.Luka had lent him a gun from his private collection.“You know my daddy used to tell me that it’s not until you’ve lost everything that you’re free to do anything.Now, do you mind telling me, boy, what the fuck you want?”“Not sure what you mean,” Alex stalled, raising his eyebrows in what he hoped passed for surprise, fighting the urge to pull the gun.“Don’t play games with me, cop,” Honeywell said through clenched teeth.“I could sniff you out clear across the room [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.“Hey, man, those your bikes outside?”Honeywell’s flat eyes fastened on Alex’s face.“Fuck off.”Alex raised his eyebrows, curving his lips in a disarming smile.“Sweet rides, that’s all.”Honeywell nodded to the bartender, who poured another pitcher of beer.Alex studied him.On the surface, he was a good-enough-looking guy with a scruffy goatee.No obvious tattoos.The tips of his fingers were stained black—probably engine grease—but there was something hollow about his flat, blue eyes.Or was that just the cop in him talking? Surely it’s nothing a girl like Natalie would have noticed.“Know anything about bikes?” Honeywell asked.His voice had a lilt to it, a hangover from his formative years in Louisiana perhaps?“A little,” Alex said.“My buddy has a Ducati.” Alex cocked a thumb toward Luka’s pint of beer.“That makes him the fucking expert.” Honeywell’s attitude was dismissive, but Alex thought it seemed a little forced this time.“Yeah, that’s what I told him.You want a real bike, get a Shovelhead.”Honeywell paused, his eyes fixed on Alex, who held his gaze without flinching.This was the moment of truth.Would Honeywell engage? Alex’s pulse picked up as he waited for a response.“Look, Asshole, you don’t know shit about bikes.” Honeywell rolled his eyes.“If you did, you’d know that every dickhead and his pup owns a fucking Shovel and thinks they’re Easy Rider.” Honeywell leaned in, resting his elbow on the bar.“If you want a ride, get a Knucklehead.It’s ten times the bike of a fucking Shovel, and you won’t look like every other swinging-dick-weekend-warrior-fucknut on the road.”“Well okay,” Alex said, looking like he’d just been schooled by Honeywell’s response.“Not sure that I’ve ever seen one,” he said, taking a pull from his beer.“What’s so great about a Knucklehead?”“Oh, man.If you have to ask …” Honeywell shook his head slowly from side to side in mock incredulity.“Yeah, I know.” Alex grinned.He waved his hand at Honeywell in a self-deprecating gesture.“The wife is dead set against it.”“Fucking poser.”“Aren’t we all?” Alex asked.“We’re all so busy trying to look different that we all end up looking the same.”That won him a soft chuckle.He was getting somewhere.“Tell you what,” Honeywell said.“I’m going to bust out of here soon.Follow me outside, and I’ll show you the difference between a Shovelhead and a Knucklehead.”“Cool.”Honeywell wound his way through the crowd carrying the pitcher of beer.Alex watched as he exchanged a few words with a guy that Alex could only assume was none other than the infamous Henry “Duke” Dugan, Honeywell’s big, badass cousin.Duke’s dark hair was short, clean cut, and Alex could see small silver hoops winking from his earlobes.He was in his early thirties with a deep scar on his chin, and the same dead, blue eyes as his cousin.Alex saw Duke glance toward the bar and give a quick nod.Then Honeywell turned and headed toward the door in no particular hurry.Alex knew this was the moment of truth, his one chance to get Honeywell on his own.The smart thing to do would be to let him go.But the urge to get to know the guy who’d killed Natalie was too strong.Luka hadn’t returned by the time Alex stepped outside.The night air was cool on his hot skin.The parking lot was set back from the road, and he could hear the hum of cars passing by.Honeywell stood beside one of the motorcycles.As Alex watched, he slid his key in the ignition, and he motioned for Alex to come closer.Alex’s gut clenched as he closed the distance between them.Hyperaware of his surroundings, he focused on Honeywell’s eyes, which glittered darkly in the bright glow from the neon signs.Honeywell pointed down the line of motorcycles.“Shovelhead, Panhead, Knucklehead.Three different eras, three different motors.The V-Twin Pan came after the Knuckle.Shovel came after Pan.This one here,” he curved a long finger at the bike beside him, “has a Shovelhead engine.See how the rocker covers look like old coal shovels? Panheads have rocker covers that look like upside-down cake pans.Knuckleheads look like the knuckles on your hand.” Honeywell’s fingers clenched into a fist.“Now, if you lean in here and check this out,” he gestured, indicating something behind the rocker cover that Alex was certain he would find fascinating if he could bring himself to give a damn.“Seriously, check it out.This is the shit right here.”Alex leaned in, aware of the danger.Following Honeywell out here into the darkened parking lot hadn’t been smart.Drawing in a slow breath, he lowered his hand to his ankle.Luka had lent him a gun from his private collection.“You know my daddy used to tell me that it’s not until you’ve lost everything that you’re free to do anything.Now, do you mind telling me, boy, what the fuck you want?”“Not sure what you mean,” Alex stalled, raising his eyebrows in what he hoped passed for surprise, fighting the urge to pull the gun.“Don’t play games with me, cop,” Honeywell said through clenched teeth.“I could sniff you out clear across the room [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]