Free Solo by Carol Lynne Page B

resigning. Hell, maybe it’s time to make that move to Washington.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, his frustration level greater than it had ever been. “I get why you can’t let your brothers know you’re gay, but they aren’t standing in my kitchen.”
    “I can live through the beat down the brothers will give me. It’s the fact that you’re a cop that’ll get me killed,” Solo replied. “You’re not the only one questioning things. Unfortunately, you don’t risk losing your life by making a career change. So excuse me if I’m not all fucking rainbows and sunshine this morning.”
    Shocked by the knowledge, Eric moved to press himself against Solo’s chest. “They’d kill you?”
    Solo kept his arms at his sides. “It’s a possibility.” He took a step back, putting distance between them. “I need to get my head on straight, and for that to happen, I need to go.” He kissed Eric’s forehead before handing him the piece of paper. “You can deal with finding Easy Ed. I’ve got another lead on a dealer I’ll check out.”
    Eric clutched the paper to his chest. He knew what giving up the address meant for Solo. “Thanks. I’ll let you know what I find.”
    Solo nodded. “I’d appreciate it.”
    Before Eric could say anything more, Solo turned and walked out of the kitchen. A moment later, he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door closing.
    “Fuck!” Eric kicked one of the kitchen chairs, sending it skidding across the floor. After the best night of his life, he was losing everything he’d ever wanted.
    * * * *
    After stopping by his trailer for a quick change of clothes, Solo entered the clubhouse. He’d called Rowdy earlier and immediately spotted his friend waiting for him in their usual booth. “Coffee,” he told the prospect behind the bar.
    “How’re you doing?” Crane asked.
    “Grouchy as fuck,” he growled. The kid was loyal and pleasant to be around. Solo had no doubt the prospect would become a full patched member of the club before long.
    Solo wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Walking away from Blue had gutted him, but he didn’t see a way around it. For a moment, he’d considered urging Blue to quit the force. In the end, Solo knew he didn’t have the right to involve himself in a decision like that anymore than Blue had a right to ask Solo to leave his brothers and the club.
    Solo carried his coffee to the booth and slid in, back to the wall. “Hey.”
    “Someone shit in your cornflakes this morning?” Rowdy asked, setting his phone down.
    “Is Roach working today?” Solo refused to discuss his personal life with Rowdy. Yes, Rowdy was his best friend, but he already knew the man didn’t approve of his relationship with Blue.
    “No,” Rowdy answered. “He’s off today. He was here last night drinking and fucking, but he left around two.”
    Without Harold to chase down, he had only two options, Roach or Marco. He wasn’t a pussy by a long shot, but going into the Devil’s territory to question Marco was a bad idea. The two clubs were not friendly, and Solo knew anything he did to Marco would come back on the Diggers ten-fold. It was the way of clubs. He set down his coffee and fisted both his hands, checking to see if his wounds would hinder his ability to fight. Confronting Roach wouldn’t happen without a backlash from the man in one form or another, and he wasn’t stupid enough to get into shit like that if he couldn’t handle himself.
    “I got your back,” Rowdy said, evidently reading Solo’s mind.
    Solo’s prepaid cell phone rang, drawing his attention immediately. There was only one person who had his new number. “Yeah,” he answered.
    “No luck getting anything out of Harold. He’s dead and from the smell, I’d say he’s been that way for at least a day,” Blue informed Solo. “I just called it in.”
    “How?” Solo asked. The state of the body would tell him a lot about who did the deed.
    “Shotgun blast to the