HAYE
Mrs. Helen Wallace. When the veteran hou
, and the fluffy white rugs. "Strip it all. Get rid of everything in this room that belongs to my old
s widening in shock, but she quickly masked
sive cardboard boxes out of my room. They packed away all the pink trash, the ridiculou
d of my toxic clutter, only the dark, heavy leather furniture and Axel's belongings remained. For
old vanity, my fingers brushed against some
ll, forgotte
into his computer, guessing the password on the first try-my birthday. My
ssword-protected file. I tried my mo
reen, my breath ca
is was a second set of books for the club-fake ledgers designed to evade federal RICO inves
yes. My mot
d the books for an Outlaw motorcycle club? How was that possible? She was just
th really a
t. B
shattered my racing though
cold, and interrogative
g his deeply furrowed brow. I re
my past. But I knew instantl
ed over me, a heavy knock on
ut urgently. "The President is back. Hi
into my pocket, my palms slick with cold sweat. This was
od on the second-floor landing, l
s of the clubhouse
cut, tossing it to a waiting Prospect. The usual noisy chatter of the
, furious eyes snapped upward, locking
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