I immediately entered my favorite karate pose to give my assailant a good chop. The motorcycle gang member probably had a gun, but I wasn't going down without a fight.

Why didn't I remember to grab my stun gun? The gun would still win, but I'd at least get a zap in.

"I asked you who the fuck you were, asshole." A woman with hair as dark as night stepped in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. At least I assumed it was the living room. Dominick had never invited me into his inner sanctum, but that layout made the most sense.

She had to be a few inches shorter than me, but she made up for it with pure spunk. In her hand wasn't the gun I feared but a large black pan. Cast iron. That baby would hurt if she hit me with it. No gun and not a biker. She didn't belong here anymore than I did.

"Wait, who are you?" I asked. The woman definitely wasn't a biker. She was too... cute.

She wasn't even wearing leather.

The mystery woman popped a hip and raised the cast-iron skillet an inch higher. "I asked you first."

True.

"Vonnie Vines," I said and almost held out my hand but then pulled it back. I didn't want to get that close to her while she had the weapon.

History said she'd be less likely to whack me with the weapon if she knew my name, but to be sure, I also added in a few facts to make me more personable.

"I have a dog, too. He is this little white and brown terrier mix who is so adorable. I'm his only caregiver." Small but necessary lie. "He'll starve if I don't make it home tonight."

She furrowed her brows as the skillet lowered but only a few inches. "Are you sleeping with Dom?"

"What? No. Never." Wait a second. My brain took a few extra seconds to catch up with my mouth. "Are you sleeping with Dom?"

The lighting wasn't great in the kitchen-I didn't turn on lights when breaking and entering-but it didn't stop me from catching her cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. Or the way she bit her lips together as if she wanted to stop a smile.

"That is none of your business," she said but kept her gaze on the floor while she said it.

Interesting.

"Are you another hidden sister?"

Last year, we had big drama when it came to light that Harley-dating a Pelican Bay Security dude-was actually the step-sibling to Dominick-The Impaler. Or something. I was still a little sketchy on how they were related.

"Not related. I'm Gina," she said and left off a last name, making it insanely difficult to track her down later.

It's not like I could Google "Woman named Gina hiding out in a biker compound" and get a result. Or could I?

No, probably not.

"Why are you here?" I asked and positioned myself to make a break for the back door if she lost her shit at some point.

The woman tossed her black hair behind her shoulder, and her grip on the pan lessened as it lowered more. The thing had to be getting heavy. If she wanted to hit me, she probably would have done it by now. Also, if I were smart, I'd keep my mouth shut. But Dominick never had an actual girlfriend before-that I knew of-and I really wanted to know what a woman was doing hiding out in his home.

There were other explanations that sounded more Domick-esque. "Is he keeping you here against your will?"

Bikers kidnapped people all the time. Right?

"No." Gina laughed, but it slowly faded to a weirder, more air-sucking in sound. "Kind of..."

She did not elaborate.

Wow.

Just when I figured things could not get any weirder in this town, the local biker gang leader had a woman held hostage in his home. She didn't look scared to be there, but if watching murder documentaries on Netflix taught me anything, it's that you couldn't always trust a scene or a person's answers.

My phone vibrated in my back pocket, but I didn't risk taking it out to check the message. I might get taken out with a pan. We stared at one another with my butt vibrating in the quiet space.

"You going to get that?" she asked and gestured at my vibrating ass.

I slipped it from my pocket and glanced at the screen. "Crap. I'm out of time." It wasn't a call but my first timer expiring. I didn't have time to chitchat with Dominick's hostage. I'd already wasted half my B&E timeline.

"What did you plan to steal?" Gina asked and set her death skillet on the counter.

I raised my hands and stepped a little closer. She'd obviously decided not to take my head off. "Nothing. I came to see a painting."

Even I wasn't dumb enough to steal from Dominick. They called him The Impaler, for Pete's sake.

Gina pinched her lips. "Really?"

"I swear I just wanted a look."

Her eyes narrowed and flashed with confusion. "There's only one painting in the entire house."

I assumed as much. Dominick didn't appear like an art connoisseur. Yes, I judged him based on his motorcycle association and I'd felt bad about it earlier, but now that she'd proven me correct... not so much.

"The painting from Harley's dad? That one?"

Her eyes narrowed more. Did I give too much away? "How do you know about that?"

I waved a hand nonchalantly. "Oh, Harley and I go way back. She told me about her dad's foray into painting and I wanted to see it for myself."

"And you couldn't just ask Dominick to show you?"

Hmm. Good question.

I mean, if I asked Dominick to show me, then he'd ask me why and I couldn't very well explain I wanted to use the painting to link Harley's father to a crime ring hell bent on intimidating me. Could I?

No.

Probably not.

It's also why I couldn't tell Gina all that at the moment either.

Rather than the truth, I opted for a shrug. "He seemed busy, and I have to get home."

Gina's eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms as she sucked in her cheeks. "Just to look?"

"Barely a peek." And a quick photo, but those were details we didn't need to hash out right then.

"It's in the living room." She pointed behind her, and my stomach tightened in anticipation. The answer to who wanted to scare me-or worse, kill me-lay just a few feet away. Was Harley's dad Snowbird?

Gina shifted to her side and motioned for me to go first. I walked past her sideways, never giving her the access to hit me with the pan. She wasn't holding it any longer, but she stayed close enough to grab it quickly.

Snowbird sent me a dead bird in a box in January and then threw a rock with a snowflake painted on it through my glass office door in February. Now Dominick had a bird painting hanging in his living room. That couldn't be a coincidence. Could it?

I held my breath as we walked into the room.

My shoulders fell with my first glimpse at his wall and the canvas in question.

It could.

Hanging above a long couch in the far wall of Dominick's living room was a massive painting of an American Bald Eagle. Not a white bird or snowflake anywhere.

"Wow," I said, momentarily taken by the image. I walked closer to get a better view. It was a masterpiece. I almost reached out to touch it.

Gina came to stand beside me. "He's good, huh?"

"Definitely has talent." Harley's dad spent most of her life in prison but was recently trying to start fresh in Pelican Bay. If he stayed out of trouble, he could sell his work. "It's gorgeous."

Gorgeous but not the work of my snowbird.

The sticky hinges of a door opening creaked through the room-somewhere close but not the room we were in. Maybe a side laundry room attached to the garage. An entrance I hadn't covered. Shit.

"Gina, I'm home," a deep masculine voice said.

Dominick.

The Impaler.

Dude, I was trying to hide from.

My eyes widened, and I stepped back, casting my gaze around the room on the lookout for an escape. But I couldn't leave yet.

"Are you going to be safe?" I asked Gina.

She smiled with a faraway expression. Weird. "Yeah. Dom would never hurt me. He saved my life."

Weirder.

Motorcycle gang leaders weren't normally in the business of saving lives. More the opposite from my research and experience.

I handed her one of my business cards as heavy steps vibrated the floor. "Call me if that changes or you just want to hang out. I have cupcakes."

She took the card and stared down at it without a comment. The steps grew closer, and I darted back through the kitchen and out the door I came in without a big leather-clad biker chasing after me. Outside the home, I plastered myself against the house and drew in long breaths, trying to hear anything being said inside, but the home stayed quiet.