Low Sided by A.J. Downey (best detective novels of all time txt) 📕

and the… not. It was kind of misogynistic and douchey but there was a definite hierarchy to it. The women who were kept and sort of immediately pulled me into their circle and welcomed me, and the scantily clad other women that Maverick’s woman, Marisol, seemed openly hostile toward – calling them ho’s and telling a couple who stopped and looked in our direction to “fuck off.” Which, they did, to my surprise, moving to hang on a brother named Cipher and Glassjaw.

The revered women, for lack of anything better to call it at the moment, consisted of Aspen, who I knew, Marisol, and a woman everyone called Little Bird, and a glam doll bombshell that somehow managed to straddle the line between named Dahlia. I couldn’t decide if that was her actual name or just another nickname, but I definitely wasn’t going to ask her. She was cold, cold, fire that one – the type to send a shiver down your spine with her deeply cutting remarks without you even realizing how deeply you’d just been burned.

“So, Raven, how come it’s taken you so long to come around?” Dahlia asked and I sort of stuttered, not sure how to answer. I mean, she gave off the kind of vibe that the question, though innocuous enough, could very well be a trap, and I didn’t want to misstep in any way.

“Raven likes to keep to herself. She’s shy and slow to warm up to folks. Took me the better part of the day at the farm to get to learn anything about her,” Aspen declared and smiled at me.

“Yeah,” I agreed. Blushing, I nodded.

“I know the feeling.” Little Bird gave me a tight smile, and I returned it.

“You the bartender that patched Mace up a couple months back?” Marisol asked, and I nodded.

“Oh! Okay, that’s right.” She shook her head. “My little brother has been a handful lately and I’m more than sort of out of the loop.” She gave a gusty sigh.

“Who’s watching him?” Dahlia asked.

“Prospect from Oregon,” Marisol said with a lift of one shoulder. “I don’t like it, but Mav insisted. Said I needed a break and some adult time.”

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Little Bird hid behind her glass and took a drink.

“I know,” Marisol said, and it was almost dejectedly. “I just worry.”

“You’re a good big sister,” Dahlia soothed, and I felt completely out of the loop when it came to the conversation. With a mighty urge to pee, I stood up.

“Where you going?” Aspen asked cheerfully.

“Break the seal,” I said with a shrug.

“Ah.” Marisol nodded. “If the bathroom down here is locked, there are like three upstairs.

“Don’t mind the mess, they haven’t finished the building up there,” Little Bird added.

I smiled and nodded and went for the water closet down here. Occupied. I drifted to the open doorway I’d glimpsed stairs through in the hallway just past the bar and went up.

There were heavy sounds of making out in the darkened corners up here, and I ignored those. A girl came out of one of the bathrooms as I was trying to decide which door might be a bathroom and I nodded to her and went in.

I did my business, washed my hands, and fuck… out of paper towels. She could have warned me, but she didn’t. Not sure if it was because I was with the “Old Ladies” as they called themselves, or not – but whatever.

There were several boxes and random totes out here in the upstairs and far be it from me to go snooping, but they may have a resupply I could put up in the bathroom. I popped the top off a gray tote in the middle of the room and felt my brow crush down.

It was a lot of random stuff, nothing paper towel or even towel-like to be seen and I went to put the lid back on it but froze. On top of everything, there was a white envelope, and through the glare of streetlight that just happened to make it through one of the paper-covered windows up here where the paper had drooped, I caught my name in bold, black, and familiar script across the face of said envelope.

I slowly half kneeled to set the lid aside, out of the way and wiped my hands somewhat dry on the seat of my leggings. Fingers trembling, I reached for the envelope and tore it open, turning the single sheet of handmade paper into the light.

Raven –

Please come see us. We aren’t mad or upset. We’re scared for you. Your friend Mace came to see us; he sort of explained without any details what happened. We’re here for you and we want to hear those details from you – or not, it’s up to your discretion. Please come home.

Angelica

The shock of emotion was so profound I didn’t even feel it at first. It was sort of like going numb, like being dropped like a magnet into a pile of kinetic goo, the glob seeping up around the edges and pulling it down, slowly devouring it. The burn of betrayal was a nasty one as it crept across my skin and up my neck and face in a heated flush of… of… I don’t even know what to call it. Embarrassment? Anger? Humiliation?

That I trusted Mace. That I believed him when he said all of those things, those things about protecting me, about having my best interest at heart, about… about…

I lowered the paper, the wave of hurt crashing over me and momentarily dousing the fire. I kneeled and put the lid back on the tote and took a deep breath.

Confrontation wasn’t my favorite thing, but I recognized a time and a place for it, and this was definitely one of those times if it wasn’t exactly the place.

I found Mace, beer in one hand, pool cue in the other talking to some brothers from the Eastern Washington and Western Oregon chapters. I sidled up to him and