But now, when I saw her, I froze like the proverbial headlight-stricken doe. On the outside I might be holding up, but inside I was a seething mass of panic, anxiety, and confusion over Gabriel’s arrest.

My mouth opened, no words coming out until she was right in front of me and I managed to squeak, “Maura.”

Her hand flew up and I flinched, bracing for the blow. Instead, I heard a soft gasp and opened my eyes to see Ricky holding her wrist.

“No,” he said, locking eyes with her.

“Who are . . . ?” she sputtered, trailing off as her gaze traveled up him, taking in the boots, the worn jeans, the leather jacket, and finally his face. Then she recognized him, and yanked her hand away fast.

“Maura,” I said. “I—”

“You brought your—?” She stared at Ricky, struggling to speak. “You brought a—? To my son’s—?”

“No,” Ricky said, his voice calm. He waved at his clothes. “Obviously, she did not bring me here. She came with Gabriel, to pay her respects. I was on the other side of the cemetery, in case some people”—a slow glower around the crowd—“didn’t let the fact it’s a funeral stop them from pursuing her. But I would like to offer my condolences—”

“Don’t you dare.” She enunciated each word like spitting glass.

“I offer them anyway, and I apologize for grabbing your wrist. You’re understandably distraught, and I wanted to prevent you from providing a photo op that I don’t think your son would have appreciated.”

Despite all the times I’ve stood up to Maura, I’ve never been able to render her speechless. Ricky did. All around us, cameras snapped, recording the spectacle of the society grande dame having her manners shown up by a biker a third her age.

Ricky was right. This was a photo op that James would not have appreciated. So I didn’t relish the moment. I reached over and embraced her—too quick to be thrown off—and I said, “I’m so sorry.” I know maybe having that picture in the papers would be worse for her, but it’s the one James would have wanted. I let her go; then I turned and climbed into the car.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

We were leaving the cemetery when I said, “You need to go back for your bike.”

“I will.”

“I know the club rules. You can’t leave it there. I’d prefer you got it now, so you don’t need to take off when we reach the police station.”