Haven: Renegade Saints MC by Ellen Harper

at all. This was Max’s bedroom, and I was actually snooping.
     
    “Shit,” I mumbled. But I couldn’t make myself stop. There was a moment where I wanted to walk out of the room, down the hall, and join Danny in front of the TV. But I couldn’t do it.
     
    I got on my hands and knees and cautiously tugged open the bottom drawer of Max’s dresser. It was stuck, and I had to wiggle the wooden drawer in the frame to get it to pull out.
     
    “Come on,” I mumbled, my tongue poking out of my lips. “Come on, that’s it.”
     
    When it was open, I frowned. There wasn’t anything sordid in here, no love notes, no bloodstained clothing. There were some heavy metal objects wrapped in tissue paper. Narrowing my eyes, I reached down and pulled them out, gently unwrapping them and setting them on the carpet.
     
    I stared at the objects. It was a tarnished silver-backed brush and mirror, both engraved with the name Talia.
     
    I bit my lip. Who did these belong to? Suddenly, it seemed like a bad idea to go digging around in Max’s room. I’d effectively distracted myself from Silas, but I wasn’t feeling much better than I had before. After looking around, I had more questions than answers, and my head was starting to hurt.
     
    Who was Talia? What was she doing in Max’s room? Picking up the brush, I noticed that a lot of tarnish had accumulated on the back. They’d been wrapped in tissue paper, which was supposed to stop that. That meant these things had been here for a long time.
     
    I frowned. Was Talia Max’s mother? Or maybe some dead aunt who had left heirlooms?
     
    The strangest thing was that even though the brush and mirror had clearly been packed up ages ago, they both looked almost new aside from the tarnishing. All of the bristles in the brush were there, and there were no hairs trapped inside.
     
    “What exactly is going on here?” I asked to myself. Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine Talia, whoever she was. Was she a family member? An old girlfriend?
     
    A chill passed over my body and I shuddered, like someone had walked across my grave. “Who are you?” I asked, holding the mirror up and staring at my reflection. “And what are these doing here?”

Chapter Twelve
    Max
     
    I left Maria’s feeling even worse than when I’d arrived. Even though I knew she was trying to help me feel better, the champagne and pity didn’t really do it for me. I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t like that with Tori, that my emotions no longer ruled me.
     
    But I had a feeling she wouldn’t have listened. Maria was one of those infuriating, smart women who always thought she knew best. Trying to argue with her was no better than trying to argue with a damned crocodile. 
     
    I couldn’t go home and face Tori like this. She’d know something was up, for better or worse. I called some of the guys and asked if they wanted to go out for a drink or ten.
     
    “I don’t know, man,” Paul said. “I got some shit to take care of later. I can’t get too hammered.”
     
    “Don’t be a pussy,” I said. “Come on, come out and get drunk with me. I’m your president, damn it, I can tell you what to do!”
     
    “I don’t know,” Paul repeated. “Can’t you call Danny?”
     
    I growled. Danny was at home, watching over Tori, but I couldn’t really tell Paul that. I knew that I’d have to tell the guys about my choice sooner or later, but right now didn’t seem like the best time. After all, Tori was a business deal. But she was also a liability, and I didn’t want to spook the guys so soon after Kristoff’s death.
     
    Thinking about Kristoff put me in an even blacker mood. I had no idea how I was supposed to concentrate on everything that was going on, not with Tori hanging around and needing protection. She was something else, alright.
     
    I wondered how many people in the club thought I was really responsible for Kristoff’s death. Shit .
     
    “Come on, Paul,” I said. “I mean it. I