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

but I was guessing not a lot. We talked about that some, and he pretty much confirmed my suspicions.

I’d sat up on the edge of the mattress, forearms propped up on my knees and he looked me over.

“You look exhausted, bro.”

I nodded. “I am. Too many early ass mornings and even later nights.”

“She worth it?” he asked me, searching my face, and I nodded.

“Can’t explain it, but she’s worth every waking moment and every breath I take. I don’t regret a fucking thing, man… except maybe my order of operations. You know?”

He nodded and heaved a deep breath, letting it out slow.

“You put any thoughts toward the future?” he asked.

“With her?”

“Either way,” he said with a shrug.

“I sure as hell don’t see myself still living up here in five years, bro.”

He laughed at that and nodded.

“Her place ain’t much better,” he said.

“At least it has a bathroom,” I said, and he nodded.

“You coming to the club tonight?” he asked.

“You know I’ll be there,” I said.

“Ride with me. I’m headed back that way. Maybe we can come up with something to get you outta here and into something better. Something suitable to both of you?”

I looked off into the gloom of the loft and sighed. “The longer this goes without her contacting me, the more I’m starting to feel like it’s going to be a future on my own. You know?”

“I wouldn’t give up just yet. It’s only been a couple of weeks and Raven strikes me as a complicated lady.” I heaved myself to my feet and sighed.

“She’s only complicated in her simplicity,” I said. “She loves simple things, lives simply, and doesn’t ask or require much, but she gets so inside her own head, lets herself overthink and over feel and things get complicated quick. I love her for it. Live for every minute of it. You know? She’s a challenge but she challenges me to be better… do better.”

He nodded and smiled. “I like you two together.”

“Yeah, I like us together, too,” I said quietly.

“C’mon, I’ll buy you a drink back at the club.”

“Ha ha,” I muttered and heaved myself to my feet.

The ride to the club was cold and damp but not a soaker. One of those pervasive clammy chills that crept in under your riding leathers and made it hard to get warm without a hot shower or a shot of whiskey on the other side.

Unfortunately, the hot shower was out of the question. The showers at the club were still out of commission and needed to be properly plumbed. The whiskey, though? We had a damn decent supply of that on hand and coffee a plenty. I was in need of both.

“You boys look chilly!” Ms. Momma Kat declared.

“That we are, Momma, that we are.”

“Get ‘cha some Irish coffees?” she asked.

“You read my mind,” I said to her and shot her a dazzlingly flirtatious grin. She blushed, waved me off and went to make up some coffee with some strong whiskey in it. I grinned at Mav and winked, and he chuckled.

Momma Kat was a treasure to the club and should always be treated as such.

Mav and I were bullshitting about this, that, and the other when we heard it – shouting, an altercation, whatever – and the back door of the club flew open hard enough to hit the wall.

“Help!” Tic yipped, and Mav and I hauled ass as one. Tic was lying on the floor, hands clamped over near his crotch, blood seeping out from between his fingers as a vehicle peeled out outside on fifteenth, Fenris bellowing rage.

“Fuck! Fen! Get in here!” Mav yelled.

“No! Go grab Raven!” I yelled over him, then looked at Mav. “This is bad. Help me get him in the chapel.”

We hauled Tic up between us in the narrow hallway and Fen disappeared out the portal of the back door.

I had every faith my woman would know what to do.

26

Raven…

The cold and damp were biting for such a short ride, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was Mace, and what could have happened. I tried to pretend the tears gathering at the corners of my eyes were from the wind, but the tightness in my throat wouldn’t let me sell the lie to myself. Fenris pulled up to the front of the club, off sixteenth street, and I jumped off, tackling the front door and barreling through. I stopped short at the sight of Mace, hands slicked and smeared with blood, in the hall toward the back door.

He froze when he saw me and Maverick came out of his office with a super large, soft-sided, med kit. The kind that paramedics carried.

“Raven,” Mace called. “Help me!”

My medic’s training kicked in and with a slight shake of my head, I strode forward and took the kit from Mav and asked, “What’s happened, who’s hurt?”

“It’s Tic, in here.” I followed Mace as he pushed through the door across the hall to the chapel. A room he had shown me, and that was tight, but impressive. Tic was lying on the table, bar towels soaking crimson as he shook and shuddered, trying to apply pressure down low to one side near his right hip.

“Getting a little lightheaded here, bro!” he rushed out, voice shaky. I set down the kit and ripped open the top.

“What happened?” I demanded.

“Fucker stabbed me,” Tic uttered.

“Shit,” I muttered and pulled on a pair of gloves. “How bad, do you know?”

“Not bad but fuck, it won’t stop bleeding!” Mace declared.

I handed him some compresses and ordered him, “Use these.”

I snatched the trauma sheers from their place in the top of the kit and started low on Tic’s pant leg cuff, heading up his leg.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!” he cried and writhed to get away from me.

“Stop it!” I snarled. “I’m trying to save you!”

“Fuck!” He was sweating and panting. When I got through his waistband and peeled the blood-soaked denim back, I almost froze at the gleaming silver cage around his