Page 74 of Sinner's Storm

Slapping my brother’s back, I yanked him to the side of me. “I don’t need your help, Jason.”

“Could have fooled me,” Law commented, eliciting another glare from me.

Huffing, I looked around the scene. “I don’t have time for this. I need to see those cameras. If I have to, I will get a court order. I’m hoping that the two of you care more about catching this killer than whatever nefarious shit is on those feeds.”

Matthew Law nodded. “I’ll be waiting for that court order, Detective. You can find me at the Harbor on 5th.” With that, the man did an about face and walked away.

Turning to Montana, who was glaring at my brother, I listened as Jason said, “I didn’t tell her, man. I don’t know how she found out.”

“Oh please,” I scoffed. “It wasn’t hard to deduce, and I’m very fucking good at figuring shit out. Which reminds me. You and I are going to have a long talk about Delany and my niece Harlow.”

“What the fuck is he doing?” Montana clipped as I turned to find a large man covered in tattoos, kneeling before the body of the young girl. About to yell at him, the man crossed himself before standing and walking over to us.

“What are you doing here, brother?” Jason said, confused.

“Needed to see for myself.”

“Do you know the victim?” I asked.

The heavily-tattooed man shook his head as he stared at Montana. When no one said anything more, I sighed. “The cameras?”

“I’ll have them delivered tomorrow,” Montana muttered, not taking his eyes off the big guy. I may have known that my brother was a member of the Soulless Sinner Motorcycle Club, but that didn’t mean I knew all the players. The only reason I knew of Montana was because I saw security feed the day they both showed up at my mom’s bar, which was the day she had issues with the AC repairman. I had gotten a call from a server and rushed over, just in time to see my brother and Montana Stone beat the hell out of the guy before kicking him to the curb.

Saying nothing more, I left my brother with his friends. I had a job to do.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Storm

The second my sister left, I turned to Malice. “What’s wrong?”

“Not here,” the big moody bastard cautioned, stomping back toward the clubhouse.

Looking at Montana, the man just shrugged before following.

Back at the clubhouse, we watched when Malice headed straight for Montana’s office. Figuring the brother wanted us to follow, we did.

Closing the door behind me, Montana took his seat behind his desk while Malice paced the room.

“Use your words, man,” Montana carefully said.

“She bears his mark.”

Confused, I glanced at Montana, who frowned.

“Gonna need more, Malice.”

In the next instant, Malice yanked his shirt down over his right shoulder, showing the both of us a burn mark in the shape of a trident.

Leaning closer so I could get a better look, Montana slowly rose from his seat. “You think it’s him?”

Malice nodded.

“Why?”

“Don’t know.”

“Who the hell are you talking about?” I asked both of them.