The Seventh Sons (Sycamore Moon Series Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Domino Finn
the steadfast will of the officer proved stronger. Diego couldn't hide his agitation briefly and pulled his head down to his hands so he could brush his hair back.
"Fine, Detective Dwyer, ask your questions."
Now they were getting somewhere.
"What was the fight in the bar about?"
"Some guys were having a conversation when they were interrupted. I heard shouting over the music. The place erupted and people started punching people." Diego looked straight into Maxim's eyes earnestly. "I wasn't involved. I just wanted to get out of there."
"Wrong place, wrong time, huh?" The detective snickered. "Listen, I'll believe the werewolf thing before I buy that story. All of you sped down the road into the woods in complete darkness to elude me. Everything that involves one Seventh Son involves them all, and you were right in the middle of it."
"So that's it. You think I'm in their gang?"
Maxim stopped himself before he asked his next question. He'd thought the biker would at least afford him that much. The motorcycle club wasn't allowed to wear jackets or other gang paraphernalia within Sanctuary town limits. Because of the department's operational procedures, they didn't have a definitive list of all the members.
Still, Diego's ID was from out of state. While these bikers came from any number of places, it was possible he was telling the truth. Maxim would track the man's credit cards in the morning to be sure, but for the moment he would humor him. He saw where this was going.
"What are you telling me, that you don't know the other bikers at all?"
Diego flashed his hands out with a magician's flourish, as if something had disappeared. By Maxim's account, it was his leverage.
"That is what I'm telling you, Detective. I don't live in Sanctuary. Haven't been here longer than two nights. You can check with the Motel 6."
Maxim cocked his head to regroup his thoughts. A stranger from out of town on a different kind of motorcycle—maybe these pieces were part of the same puzzle.
"So, if you didn't know any of the others," Maxim spoke deliberately, making sure to lay his trap perfectly, "why did you chase them out of the bar?"
"I wasn't chasing anybody."
"So why didn't you pull over when I lit you up?"
"What did you expect me to do? You can't prosecute me for not stopping while being chased by two gang members!"
"Ah!" Maxim crossed his arms over his chest in a practiced motion. "So you were involved then?"
Diego paused, realizing he'd given more information than he had intended. He let out a measured breath and looked down at the cell phone sitting on the table. The screen was off.
"I don't know, Detective. They thought I stabbed their friend, perhaps."
This was the path that Maxim wanted to venture down. The fight didn't matter, the DUIs would be charged—all Maxim really cared about was finding out who stabbed the fourth biker. The lodge could keep its scofflaw clientele, but the detective was determined to prevent any more incidents from spilling into the streets.
"Who attacked the victim?"
"I told you I didn't see it happen, Detective." Diego's repetition of the formal title meant he was regulating his dialog, being careful about every word he revealed. "You're the Sanctuary resident. You know how petulant those bikers are. We got into words because I spilled some beer on someone. But the stabbing happened later."
"So what are you saying, Diego? A fight breaks out, you don't see anything, but you get chased from the bar for no real reason?"
"That's what I am saying, yes."
"You and the two bikers?"
Diego's eyes darted to the side as he searched for meaning to the clarification. He appeared to be aggravated by his confusion and let out a stern reply. "Yes."
"And what about the fourth man—the one who was stabbed? Why was he chasing you?"
Diego gawked at Maxim incredulously. "He made it outside?"
"The stabbing victim was the last one outside. He was on his motorcycle a few hundred feet until he collapsed,
"Fine, Detective Dwyer, ask your questions."
Now they were getting somewhere.
"What was the fight in the bar about?"
"Some guys were having a conversation when they were interrupted. I heard shouting over the music. The place erupted and people started punching people." Diego looked straight into Maxim's eyes earnestly. "I wasn't involved. I just wanted to get out of there."
"Wrong place, wrong time, huh?" The detective snickered. "Listen, I'll believe the werewolf thing before I buy that story. All of you sped down the road into the woods in complete darkness to elude me. Everything that involves one Seventh Son involves them all, and you were right in the middle of it."
"So that's it. You think I'm in their gang?"
Maxim stopped himself before he asked his next question. He'd thought the biker would at least afford him that much. The motorcycle club wasn't allowed to wear jackets or other gang paraphernalia within Sanctuary town limits. Because of the department's operational procedures, they didn't have a definitive list of all the members.
Still, Diego's ID was from out of state. While these bikers came from any number of places, it was possible he was telling the truth. Maxim would track the man's credit cards in the morning to be sure, but for the moment he would humor him. He saw where this was going.
"What are you telling me, that you don't know the other bikers at all?"
Diego flashed his hands out with a magician's flourish, as if something had disappeared. By Maxim's account, it was his leverage.
"That is what I'm telling you, Detective. I don't live in Sanctuary. Haven't been here longer than two nights. You can check with the Motel 6."
Maxim cocked his head to regroup his thoughts. A stranger from out of town on a different kind of motorcycle—maybe these pieces were part of the same puzzle.
"So, if you didn't know any of the others," Maxim spoke deliberately, making sure to lay his trap perfectly, "why did you chase them out of the bar?"
"I wasn't chasing anybody."
"So why didn't you pull over when I lit you up?"
"What did you expect me to do? You can't prosecute me for not stopping while being chased by two gang members!"
"Ah!" Maxim crossed his arms over his chest in a practiced motion. "So you were involved then?"
Diego paused, realizing he'd given more information than he had intended. He let out a measured breath and looked down at the cell phone sitting on the table. The screen was off.
"I don't know, Detective. They thought I stabbed their friend, perhaps."
This was the path that Maxim wanted to venture down. The fight didn't matter, the DUIs would be charged—all Maxim really cared about was finding out who stabbed the fourth biker. The lodge could keep its scofflaw clientele, but the detective was determined to prevent any more incidents from spilling into the streets.
"Who attacked the victim?"
"I told you I didn't see it happen, Detective." Diego's repetition of the formal title meant he was regulating his dialog, being careful about every word he revealed. "You're the Sanctuary resident. You know how petulant those bikers are. We got into words because I spilled some beer on someone. But the stabbing happened later."
"So what are you saying, Diego? A fight breaks out, you don't see anything, but you get chased from the bar for no real reason?"
"That's what I am saying, yes."
"You and the two bikers?"
Diego's eyes darted to the side as he searched for meaning to the clarification. He appeared to be aggravated by his confusion and let out a stern reply. "Yes."
"And what about the fourth man—the one who was stabbed? Why was he chasing you?"
Diego gawked at Maxim incredulously. "He made it outside?"
"The stabbing victim was the last one outside. He was on his motorcycle a few hundred feet until he collapsed,
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