Page 76 of Pony Rides Fast

Something under the bar. Right where Piper had been rummaging around.

Of course, that was a natural place for her to be. She was the bartender, for God’s sake, of course she would be rummaging around the bar at any particular time.

But she’d seemed so… off. Squirrelly. Jittery. Not at all the confident spitfire she always seemed to be.

Of course, any number of things could’ve been on her mind. Her sister’s legal difficulties, for starters. That could’ve had her on edge.

Then again, there was that strange bruise on her chest, the one she said she’d gotten at Krav Maga, which didn’t look at all like a bruise from a punch or kick.

That mystery motorcycle rider, the one who’d given him and Wyatt the slip after the bank robbery. They could seriously ride, real skill that wasn’t commonplace at all. Piper could ride like that.

He shook himself once, as if to shake off the whole idea. He didn’t want to believe that. He didn’t want to believe any of it. For all he knew, he was just being paranoid and seeing ghosts where there was nothing at all.

He needed more information. That was the key. Shine some more light on this mystery, so he didn’t end up doing something he’d regret.

Boomer’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Pony?You okay?”

“What?” Pony said, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“You seem lost in thought.”

“No, I’m good,” Pony said, moving for the door.

“Where you are going?”

“Going to go follow that FBI guy. See what I can see.”

“Want company?” Griz said.

“No. No, he’ll be less likely to spot me if I’m solo.”

“Cool,” Griz said, looking at him sideways. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Pony said, feeling like it was a lie.

21

By the time Piper pulled her sister’s car into her driveway, she crashed.

Emotionally, physically, in every way possible, she crashed. Slumped forward against the steering wheel like the victim of a hit in a mafia movie. The only thing keeping her awake was the paranoia of what was going to happen next.

No. Not paranoia. Paranoia was fear without any cause to believe there was an actual threat. She had all the cause in the world. There was a threat, all right.

By now, Harris would’ve made his move on the MC clubhouse and came up dry. Which was at minimum a nuclear bomb on her career, if not a legal fight for her to prove her innocence if Harris made good on his threat to set her up with their bosses at the FBI.

Then there was Carly. Half the reason she’d been in the clubhouse was to get enough markers to pull some strings and get her sister out of her legal jam. That was out the window, now.

Then there was the MC. They weren’t stupid. A raid from the FBI would get them wondering who could’ve been there to rat them out. It wouldn’t be a terribly long list, and Piper was pretty sure she would be at the top of it.

Would they come after her? It didn’t seem in character for them, but there was no way to know.

Right now, she didn’t feel like she could predict anyone’s behavior. She’d thought Harris was a wise and by the book mentor who was a white knight on the front lines of the drug war; instead, he seemed to have gone completely off the rails. Now she had no idea what he was capable of.

As if to punctuate that thought, her phone began to ring.

Piper stared at it, hating it for ringing, hating it because she knew who would be calling. Harris. Enough time had come and gone for him to have pulled his raid on the MC clubhouse and realize that she hadn’t done as she was told.