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on.”
     
    Billy looked about ready to pee himself, while Solomon had a sardonic smirk on his face. It was crazy to see them look so similar, but act so differently. While Billy was wet behind the ears and tried to play it off with bravado, Solomon was a hardened criminal, a man who’d earned his scars through blood, sweat, and tears. It was the difference between a boy and a man.
     
    “I-I killed Jamison,” Billy stammered as sweat and tears streaked his face.
     
    Kat swung her head to look at the kid at the same moment Solomon backhanded Billy and sent him flying from the chair onto the floor. Everyone was quiet, stunned as they looked at Solomon’s calm face and Billy’s shocked, wide eyes staring up at him.
     
    “Y-you hit me,” Billy whispered, shocked and hurt.
     
    Solomon turned to Kat, ignoring the kid and the three hulking Free Guns in the room with them. “Call off your dogs, Kit-Kat, and let’s talk.”
     
    Tense seconds stretched into minutes as Kat regarded Solomon through half-lowered lids. I know it’s not a good idea, but… Where Solomon was concerned, rationality flew out the window.
     
    “Out. All of you.”
     
    Four heads turned toward her, and as many jaws dropped.
     
    “But Kat…”
     
    “You heard the lady,” Solomon snickered, giving Kat a burning look.
     
    “Kat, don’t let him–”
     
    “How many of you think Solomon or Billy did it?” Kat interrupted, as she took her feet off the table and planted them firmly on the floor.
     
    Looking every member in the eye, Kat raised a questioning eyebrow. “Seriously, who thinks these guys murdered Jamison?”
     
    John, Dominic, and Joseph all looked at each other, then at Kat, and finally at Solomon and Billy. Solomon lounged in a chair, completely at ease, while Billy remained on the floor, a hand covering his swollen cheek. A few more seconds of awkward deliberation and the men shook their heads.
     
    John stroked the back of his neck and regarded Kat. “I don’t think they did it.”A murmur of agreement came from the other two men.
     
    Thought so . Kat had known early on that Solomon wasn’t the killer, but he’d been willing to take the blame, surrender his life because it would have made them all sleep better. For her part, Kat had been willing to put down an innocent man, a man whom her most trusted guys didn’t even think it was guilty.
     
    Pushing away from her chair, Kat turned her back on the group and steeled her voice. “When I asked if anyone thought Solomon Parker was innocent, I got silence,” she stretched out the word, forced it through her teeth. “Fucking silence.”
     
    In a whirl of black leather, Kat spun around and slammed her fists into the table, tears shining in the corners of her eyes. Every man flinched except for Solomon, who didn’t twitch a muscle.
     
    “I’d been ready to kill a man tonight, stain my soul with his blood–” she paused and looked at Solomon, things she couldn’t say shining in her eyes. “Leave. Get the fuck out.”
     
    Her most trusted men—no, — she’d —almost sold her soul to the Devil. And for what? It all seemed meaningless now. A man’s life for a motorcycle club. How the hell did than even itself out?
     
    Scuffling shoes and the click of a lock were the only indications that the men had gone, and the silence meant they’d taken Billy with them. Kat held her body stiff as she heard Solomon’s chair scrape against the wood floor. When he touched her, she flinched.
     
    It wasn’t a harsh touch, he didn’t grab her. His fingers were soft on her arm. But Kat would have liked it if he’d been rough, if he'd gotten angry, if he screamed and hit her. She would have been able to call it even, or at least she would have felt a little less bad about almost taking his life. But that wasn’t how Solomon Parker worked.
     
    Another gentle caress on her arm made her flinch even harder. “Don’t touch me!” Kat lashed out as tears streamed from her