Free Saved by the Outlaw: Motorcycle Club / Hitman Romance by Alexis Abbott, Alex Abbott

puts a hand on my arm and shakes her head, still smiling.
    “Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry. It’s all under control. They’re on our side,” she informs me quietly. Gerald comes walking around the corner with his lopsided gait to stand by Leon at the front door.
    “What seems to be the matter, fellas?” he asks gruffly. But there’s a hint of sarcasm to his voice, like he’s simply reading from a script and finding it more than a little amusing.
    “Routine business, sir,” responds the first officer. “May we step inside?”
    “Of course, of course. Anything for the strong and just arm of the law,” the old man answers with a deep belly laugh. He stands aside and spreads one arm in a gesture of welcome, and the two officers walk in.
    “Let me start a pot of tea and fetch us some sandwiches,” Wanda pipes up brightly, taking me by the hand suddenly. “I’m sure you’re all famished!” she adds as she nudges me alongside her to the kitchen.
    “Thanks, ma’am,” says officer number two.
    Standing at the little wooden island counter, I lean back to peer around the corner into the living room, where Gerald, Leon, and the two policemen are gathering now, talking in hushed voices. Wanda is humming some upbeat tune as she takes various items out of the cupboards and refrigerator, setting them down on the counter in front of me.
    “What the hell is going on?” I whisper urgently. Wanda turns around to face me, beaming. She slides a bagged loaf of bread toward me and sets a butter knife down.
    “We’re making sandwiches,” she quips lightly.
    “I can see that,” I reply, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. The whole Stepford Grandmother routine is getting old. I just want to know why, after Leon and I took every precaution to avoid being caught, the men are now simply shooting the breeze with a pair of cops in the living room ten feet away.
    “Turkey, swiss, lettuce, tomato, and mustard. I suppose that’ll do!”
    “Why are the cops here?” I ask in an undertone.
    “Sorry, dear, I’m a bit hard of hearing!” Wanda shoots back, still preparing the sandwiches as though everything is perfectly normal. This is getting ridiculous.
    I drop the loaf of bread and storm into the living room despite Wanda’s feeble protests behind me. Walking straight up to circle of men, I demand, “Could someone please tell me what’s going on right now! Are we under arrest, or what?”
    The officers blink confusedly at me, then they both start to chuckle.
    “Wow, I’ve never seen someone so eager to incriminate herself,” says the first one, whose name badge reads SAMUELS.
    The second one, whose lapel bears the name GREENE laughs, “I wish we were here to arrest you. It’d be an easy job.”
    “Cut her some slack, gentlemen,” Leon interjects, though he’s smiling, too. “This is a new friend of mine. She’s not fully initiated yet, alright?”
    “New friend, eh?” Greene says, waggling his eyebrows up and down and nudging Leon in the ribs.
    “You gonna initiate her, or ya gonna give us the pleasure?” Samuels jokes. But Leon gives them both warning glares and their smiles fade instantly.
    “Drop the innuendoes, boys,” Gerald adds, rolling his eyes. “This is serious business, if you haven’t forgotten. This is John LaBeau’s girl.”
    Both officers immediately remove their hats and press them to their chests, bowing their heads slightly in deferential courtesy.
    “Our apologies, miss.”
    “And condolences. John was a good man.”
    “Thank you. He was,” I respond, my voice sounding thick and emotional. I have to hold it together. I can’t afford to look weak in front of these guys.
    “Have a seat, boys!” Wanda says, wobbling into the room carrying a silver tray stacked with turkey sandwiches and little cups of tea. Leon rushes to take it from her gently.
    “Here, let me get that,” he offers, lifting it away from her with one steady hand. Something moves deep inside me at this kind, simple