Royal Baby by Lauren Hunt Page B

untouched. I noticed blood running down my arm and winced when the pain hit me. There wasn't anything I could do about it yet.
     
    We didn't even bother with helmets. I hid my cannon in the waistband of my pants and started the bike as Winter hopped on. Her hands were still shaking as she wrapped them around me. I was so furious I thought I might burst. I had put Winter in harm's way and all I wanted to do was get revenge. I squeezed the throttle and flew out of there.
     
    I looked behind us to see if the Mexicans were following but they must have fled the scene. The sound of sirens was off in the distance. I only had one thing on my mind: get Winter to safety.

Chapter Ten
     
Katherine
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

My cellphone buzzed on the nightstand next to me. I closed the case file and gazed over at the clock—two in the morning. Pretty late to have somebody calling. Must be important. I pried my glasses off and answered.
     
    “Agent Swift,” I said, my voice calm and monotone.
     
    “It's Malarkey. The local sheriff thinks he has something for us.”
     
    I sprung out of bed, my eyes alight with excitement. “Where are you?” I asked.
     
    “San Giovanni's restaurant. Do you need the address?” Malarkey was excited too.
     
    I had followed Dark Steel members to that Italian restaurant before. “No, I'll be there in ten minutes.”
     
    I ran to the closet and pulled out a black suit that was an exact copy of the other four suits hanging. I didn't care much for fashion and wearing the same thing every day made getting ready in the morning that much quicker. I didn't even bother with my makeup or hair as I rode the elevator down to the parking garage.
     
    I made it to San Giovanni's with one minute to spare. The entire police department was parked outside the place with their lights flashing. Yellow caution tape had been set up as a perimeter. A crowd was growing and cops guarded the area. I strolled up to one of the officers. His uniform barely fit and his eyes scanned the crowd nervously—obviously a rookie. He was about to turn me away when I flashed him my FBI badge. His demeanor changed instantly, rolling his shoulders back and straightening his back. The Bureau had that effect on people sometimes. He raised the yellow tape for me and I ducked under.
     
    I spotted Malarkey and caught up with him. “What do we have here?”
     
    Malarkey pointed to a portly man trying to look important. “Agent Swift, this is Sheriff Gillory.”
     
    The sheriff was chowing down on a burrito and he wiped his disgusting hand on his pants before shaking mine. “Not every day I get the FBI in our town,” he said with his mouth full. I'd be completely grossed out if I wasn't so distracted by the crime scene.
     
    “What do we have here,” I repeated, skipping the small talk.
     
    The sheriff pointed to the restaurant. “We got a call around 11:30 of shots fired. We arrived on the scene to find two bodies and two witnesses.”
     
    I put on white latex gloves and surveyed the scene. Two pairs of skid marks on the street indicated that two cars were involved. The front window of the restaurant was completely destroyed and a body lay outside.
     
    I looked over at the closest intersection, searching for any traffic cameras. Next door was a small clothing boutique with a camera pointed toward the restaurant. Bingo.
     
    “Sheriff, can I get the footage from that camera?” I asked pointing up.
     
    He finished the burrito and threw the wrapper on the ground. I don't know what irked me worse: the contamination of the crime scene or littering. It was equally both. “I'll get one of my guys on it right away,” he answered.
     
    I got a closer look at the body—male in his early thirty's, Mexican, and very dead. I pulled down a red bandanna that covered half his face. A small black mustache hid under his nose. I pulled up his shirt sleeve and a tattoo of a red devil and pitchfork covered his arm—Los Diablos MC.