Ford asks, crossing his arms. “I’m coming to you, Ford, because I can’t go to anyone else. You’re the only person who will understand.” He narrows his eyes. “Understand what?” “I . . . I . . .” “Katia, what the fuck do you need that kind of money for?” I need it to pay the Tinman’s Soldiers to kill my husband. The only people who could get away with killing someone and not be questioned. They’re a motorcycle club. It makes sense. It works. They can be subtle, and with Marcus’s past, the police won’t suspect them. I straighten my shoulders. “I am leaving, and I need cash to help me get started.” “Why would you leave when you have all this support here?” “Because.” “You’re lying.” His jaw tics and I clench mine. “Please, Ford.” He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me. “You tell me or I won’t give it to you.” I sigh and growl, low and deep. “I need it to pay a motorcycle club.” He makes a wincing sound. “What the fuck do you need to pay a motorcycle club for?”
