by Brook Wilder
“However,” he continued, tapping his fingers on the desk. “I think we might have a problem, Warren.”
Back to the last name again. This couldn’t be good.
“What is that, sir?”
“Why are you working with Hale?”
I blew out a breath, choosing my words carefully. It had only been a matter of time before someone found out, and up until last night it was going to be easy to defend my choice.
Now, shit, there were emotions involved.
“I… he was assigned to the case by Grant Travis,” I said truthfully, looking the police chief in the eye. “We were fighting each other. I thought it would make more sense to collaborate together to reach the same goal.”
The chief eyed me.
“Did that include kidnapping one Muertos and killing another?”
I remained silent, finding that it was easier to not defend what he already knew.
And honestly, I had forgotten all about the tied-up Muertos in the police warehouse.
“I didn’t harm him sir.”
“Didn’t harm him? Didn’t harm him! You kidnapped him and left him tied to a chair, Warren! You are lucky he can’t talk any more or your ass would be grass.”
Stunned, I looked at him.
“W-what?”
“He’s dead,” the chief said flatly, pushing the manila envelope toward me. “SWAT found him when they went to retrieve some equipment.”
My hands shook slightly as I picked up the envelope and opened the flap, dumping out the pictures in my hand. The dead Muertos stared up at me, a perfectly round hole in the center of his forehead. When I had seen him last, he was cursing and bucking against the chair.
He wasn’t dead.
I looked up at Chief Turner, not bothering to hide my shock.
“He was alive last time I saw him.”
“I know,” the chief said, leaning back in his chair. “The bullet doesn’t match your gun, Warren. I had them check, discreetly of course.”
I swallowed hard. If it wasn’t my gun, then whose was it?
“What do you know about the Devil’s Horsemen, Warren?”
“Everything you have told me, and what I’ve read of course,” I answered truthfully.
I had done a great deal of research on the biker gang, especially since I knew that Zack was a part of them.
That was before last night.
“They are at war with the cartel,” the chief explained. “Turf wars are popping up everywhere in this town. I know you were with Hale. Did it ever occur to you that he might be looking for a way to get even with the cartel?”
I didn’t say anything, curling my hand into a fist.
No, it hadn’t crossed my mind. Zack was looking for Harley. Our past had brought us together. He didn’t have a hidden agenda.
Right?
“I’m going to give you a piece of advice,” the chief said softly. “You can’t trust any of them Sydney. They had their own agendas, their own ways of doing things, long before you or Hale got involved. The Horsemen thrive on getting their hands dirty with the cartel, and I can promise you this incident won’t go unnoticed.”
“Chief, I don’t think Zack did this,” I finally forced out.
I knew Zack. He would never resort to killing a man like this, at point blank range. Sure, he had pulled his gun out yesterday, but we were both under fire. He was protecting himself and me.
The chief eyed me.
“Did you take him to the interrogation?”
“Yes,” I said softly.
I had given him that location. He knew where the Muertos was and knew that someone would find him. He had followed me in and out the door, watching me as I punched into the key pad.
Oh, God! What if Zack had done this?
Chief Turner reached into his drawer and pulled out a thick file, pushing it toward me.
“Go home. I’m not pulling you from the case because I don’t want Amy Travis breathing down my neck, but I am going to be watching you closely. One wrong move, Warren, and I will step in.”
“Thank you, sir,” I breathed, grateful that I wasn’t going to be yanked because of my stupidity.
I was, however, going to have a talk with my ‘partner’.
“And read this,” he continued, tapping on the file. “I think you need to see what you are dealing with.”
I scooped it up and held it close to my chest as I stood.
“I won’t let you down again, sir.”
“Watch your ass, Sydney,” he said as I made my way toward the door. “Don’t let your past get in the way of your good common sense.”
I didn’t respond as I headed out of the station and to my jeep, hating the fact that he’d had to tell me that. I had already let my past right back into my life, screwing around with my job and nearly getting me yanked from a case in the process.
That was not going to happen again.
After picking up some lunch, I went home, grabbing the file from the passenger seat along with my food. My cell phone had been quiet all morning, and I wondered how long it was going to be until Zack contacted me.
If he contacted me.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I muttered as I flopped on my couch, the file in my lap.
Of course, he was going to call. He wasn’t the same person as before.
But as I opened the file, I realized what the chief had given me. It was Zack’s file, much thicker than I had imagined it would be. There was intel from undercover cops on his movements in the past, shortly after I’d left. Beatings, break-ins, public intoxication were just a few of the notable reasons he had gotten put into jail for a day or two.
My food forgotten, I read through some of the reports, my stomach churning. While he had no murders tied to him, he had been pulled into the interrogation room many times over the past few years, asked about their rift with the cartel. His comments had been candid and not even close to what the investigators needed, but they had tried. I could imagine Zack sitting in the chair as he had that day with me, that cocky grin on his face, knowing he wouldn’t get nailed with anything as long as they had their legal counsel.
Leaning back on the couch, I fought the emotions that were swirling around in my body. The chief was right. I had allowed my judgement to be clouded by Zack, throwing out my police training, and given him a cartel member on a silver platter. If Zack hadn’t pulled that trigger, that didn’t mean that someone else hadn’t got the information from him to make it happen.
That was where his loyalty lay. It didn’t with me. If it had, we would never have broken up.
I closed the file and pushed it aside, rubbing a hand over my face. All my euphoric feelings from before were gone. Instead, dread was in its place. Zack couldn’t have killed that informant. I would know if he had done it, right?
Well there was only one way to find out. I would have to ask him, confront him with the evidence and see if he would tell me the truth. I wanted to say that I would recognize it if he was lying but wasn’t so sure about that either.
What a mess I had gotten myself in!
Reaching for my phone, I fired off a text to him, with a meeting place in an hour. I didn’t want him over here at my house, my resolve too weak after the previous night, and I sure as hell didn’t want to be at the clubhouse when I confronted him.
No telling what might happen then.
I got back a thumbs up, and I stood, tucking the phone in my back pocket. I was still on Harley’s case and I owed Amy Travis an update.
***
“So, you are telling me that she wasn’t with the cartel?”
I shook my head, gripping the coffee cup in my hand.
“The lead didn’t pan out. I’m not sure who has her, but it wasn’t that guy.”
Amy blew out a breath, her expression one of sadness and concern. We sat at the only coffee house in Cibolo. Honestly, though: I had tasted better coffee!
“Great, just fucking great. I’m sick and tired of not knowin
g where she is at.”
I nodded sympathetically.
“I know it’s tough. But I will find her, I swear it.”
She looked at me, a peculiar look on her face.
“You know, I’m surprised by you, Sydney. You clearly are not the girl that this stupid town branded a whore.”
My cheeks flushed. If she’d only known what I had done the night before, she might have a different opinion.
Amy leaned forward, a smirk on her face.
“I would dearly like to know how you bagged Zack Hale though. I saw you dropping him off last night. That look he gave you… well, I haven’t seen him look at anyone like that before.”
“That’s in the past,” I forced out, draining the rest of my coffee.
And it would be if he was the one responsible for this cartel member’s death. As much as I loved him, I had a duty to this town as well. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, turn a blind eye to murder.
But first, I had to confront him about it.
Chapter Fourteen
Zack
I knew something was wrong the minute she stepped out of her jeep.
Leaning against my truck, I watched as Sydney walked toward me, her brisk pace sending all kinds of warning bells off in my head. This was not the woman who had smiled at me with love in her eyes the previous night.
This was a woman on a mission.
Which was probably why we were meeting out here at the old railroad yard, far away from any prying eyes. I didn’t imagine she was looking for afternoon sex.
“Hey,” I said as she came up to me.
“Hey,” she said, not meeting my eyes. “I have to ask you something, Zack, and I need for you to be completely honest about it. I-I… this partnership depends on your answer.”
I shrugged a shoulder.
“Fire away.”
She looked up and I was surprised to see the concern in her depths. What the hell had happened between last night and right now?
“Did you…? God I can’t even say it.”
I gritted my teeth, my mind racing with possibilities of what she could be asking. If it was anything about the inner workings of the club, I couldn’t answer. But… hell, anything else was on the table. I would even tell her how many women, if she really wanted to know, that I’d had my fun, never expecting to see them again.
But it didn’t mean I hadn’t dreamed of her, keeping my damn emotions out of any fuck I had encountered after she had left Cibolo. There was only one person that held my heart, and she looked scared to death at the moment.
“Just lay it out, Syd.”
She blew out a breath.
“Fine, you are right. Did you kill that informant from yesterday?”
A bark of laughter escaped me before I could control it.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Sydney nodded.
“I am. He’s dead and I just spent half the morning defending my actions yesterday. Did you kill him, Zack?”
I didn’t know whether to be flattered or pissed off at her.
“What do you think, Syd?” I asked darkly, crossing my arms over my chest.
She stared at me.
“I honestly don’t know Zack.”
Her words were not a surprise to me. I was an outlaw, a biker, and she was a cop. It was her nature to accuse the person that was closest to her. I had thought after last night… well, maybe not.
“Are you going to arrest me?”
Sydney let out a laugh.
“How can I?”
“Are you going to force me off the case?”
She shook her head slowly.
“No, no, I’m not. But if you even remotely step out of line, Zack, I will not hesitate to arrest you.”
“Fair enough,” I answered roughly, hating the fact that we were back to square one with our reunion.
She didn’t trust me. I couldn’t change who I was or the life I was leading as an adult.
“I can’t change who I am. Syd.”
She blew out a breath.
“I-I know that. Let’s just try to co-exist until we get this case solved.”
I stepped forward, unable to help myself. Her throat bobbed as I reached down with my hand and brushed it over her cheek. I had done nothing but think about her since the moment she had dropped me off the previous night, anticipating that we would pick up where we’d left off for multiple rounds in my bed.
But now… hell, this changed everything.
“We are going to have to talk eventually, Syd.”
She seemed to lean into my touch before clearing her throat and stepping away, out of my reach.
“Let’s just focus on the case right now.”
Alright, I could do that.
“I got some news.”
Her eyes lit up.
“You do?”
I nodded.
“There’s been reports that Harley’s card has been used outside of town.”
“How?” she started before waving a hand. “Never mind. Let’s go then.”
I motioned toward my truck.
“Let me drive.”
Sydney gave a shrug and I grinned.
Score one for me.
***
We ended up out on the outskirts of Cibolo, near a plaza full of shops. I pulled into the gas station and cut the engine. Sydney climbed out and I followed her, allowing her to take the lead. She was the cop, and I had to remember that.
For now.
We walked into the gas station and approached the clerk, who was eyeing us with some concern.
“I’m looking for your manager,” Sydney stated. “I need some information.”
The clerk shrugged.
“I’ve been told to not give out anything, else you got a warrant. You got one?”
Sydney looked as if she wanted to jump across the counter.
“A woman’s life is in danger.”
“Sorry,” the clerk said, going back to tapping on her cell phone.
“Come on,” I said, touching her shoulder. “We can get it by other means.”
Sydney let out a frustrated breath as we stalked outside.
“I can’t believe this. I will never get a warrant on a hunch.”
I looked at the parking lot.
“You don’t have to.”
Sydney followed my gaze before breaking into a dead run. Harley’s car was not hard to spot, parked in front of a Chinese restaurant. I would know that powder blue color anywhere, the number of times it had been parked in front of the clubhouse.
Sydney reached the car first and tried the door handle, finding it open. I frowned as I saw the specks of blood on the driver seat, felt a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Shit. Not what anyone wanted to find.
“I have to call this in,” Sydney said as she looked up at me. “If you want to do the same.”
I shook my head.
“No. I want to tell him in person.”
***
An hour later, Sydney and I walked into the clubhouse, ignoring everyone who stared at us as we passed. I had one thing on my mind, and no one was going to stop me from doing this. I led Sydney straight to Grant’s office, where the leader was seated behind his desk, joined by the Vice President of the DHMC, Grayson Barnes. Grayson was the man who had shown me the ropes of the club, my mentor, as I learned the ways of the Horsemen. He had even gone as far as to sponsor me at his home for a while, until I could get enough funds to support myself.
“Zack,” Grayson said, eyeing Sydney. “What are you doing here?”
I ran a hand through my hair, hoping that Sydney would stick to our plan. On the ride over, I had asked her to let me tell Grant about the car instead of finding out from the police. He had appointed me to find his daughter, and I wanted to be the one to deliver the news.
“We found Harley’s car.”
Grant dropped the pen he was holding, standing behind his desk. He was visibly shaken, the look on his face a mixture of in
stant concern and a hint of fear.