“Amen, brother,” Clutch seconded.
“I still think the idea has possibilities,” Cord muttered and the sound of flesh hitting flesh came over the phone.
“We’re gonna forget we had this conversation,” Clutch advised. “Now back to the reason we called.”
“I’m guessing it wasn’t just to shoot the shit,” I replied.
“Nah,” Creed answered. “If you’re committed to this,” he paused, letting the silence linger for a minute but I didn’t take the bait. “Then you need backup. Better backup than Johnny,” he said hastily before I could respond. “We’re sending you Weasel.”
“Monty will make him in a second.”
“Not if he doesn’t see him,” Cord retorted. “He’ll hang around, be another set of eyes and ears for you, just not in the clubhouse.”
“He’ll be your exit plan if things go to hell, and, Crew, they will go to hell. There is no way out of there other than under a hail of bullets, you understand?”
I did understand and said as much. “You know I had to do this, right?”
“Yeah, brother, we know and we love you for it, you got me?” Creed answered and I heard the others murmur their agreement.
“I got you. Now, you better get the phone back before Johnny finds out you took it,” I griped and I heard some scoffing.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we ain’t scared of Johnny.” I almost laughed when I heard a door open and Johnny say, “What the hell are you boys doing?”
“Shit.”
“Johnny.”
The line went dead and I looked at the phone in time to see the numbers disappear off the screen. The last four stood out to me and I glanced at Deacon’s phone again. I’d tried every birthday and anniversary combination I could think of, but I hadn’t tried phone numbers.
My fingers hovered over the keypad, trembling slightly as I punched the four digits in, the numbers burned into my memory from dialing them so many times. I’d called Norah’s phone a thousand times in the last two months, hoping one day she’d answer. She hadn’t but maybe those numbers were the key I’d been searching for so long.
I hesitated before hitting the last number, nerves almost getting the better of me as hope surged for the first time in a long time. I tapped the screen and suddenly I was in. I stared at the icons incredulously, unable to believe I’d actually gotten in.
My breath rushed out of me and I laughed under my breath as I looked up to the ceiling, wondering if Deacon was cheering me on.
I was one step closer to the answers I sought. I glanced back down at the phone. Now, I just needed to figure out what was on his phone that was so important.
I went to his email first but it was clogged with a year’s worth of spam. I skipped over to the text message screen and saw his last text was to Norah. A lump formed in my throat as I read it aloud, “I love you, honey.” I backed out of the messages, not wanting to be a voyeur into their personal relationship.
I chewed on my lip trying to decide where else to look, when I saw the camera icon. I cocked my head as I considered that maybe it wasn’t what Deacon had known but what he’d seen that cost him his life. I clicked on the camera and started scrolling back through his pictures, stopping when I came to a series of videos.
I picked one randomly and started to watch, my chest tightening as I realized what Deacon had recorded and why Norah had run. I closed that video and went to the next, each one more damning than the last.
“Jesus,” I breathed, my heart thumping erratically as I realized Deacon had basically gathered evidence implicating Monty and Domingo Martinez in drug trafficking. “No wonder they silenced you, D.”
The videos were all taken the same day, one of the rare meetings between Martinez and Monty, and I almost skipped over the last one after I realized they were all of the same meeting.
I kept the sound low, holding it up to my ear as Martinez talked about a traitor in his midst and asked Monty to handle it so he couldn’t be implicated. “Two DEA agents,” Martinez said. “Make an example of them.”
“Not a problem, boss,” Monty promised, an ugly smile creasing his face as he puffed on a cigarette. “And I can expect you to return the favor if necessary?”
“Always, my friend,” Martinez replied cordially, but there was no mistaking the menace in his voice. “I consider it a point of honor to repay my debts.”
“No doubt, but its best if we’re all on the same page,” Monty countered pleasantly enough. “Killing federal agents is no small request.”
There was a noise and the two men looked directly toward the camera, giving a clear view of them right before the screen went black and I could hear a motorcycle revving. The date of the video was less than a week before Deacon was killed.
I held the phone in my hands for a long minute, knowing this was what had gotten Deacon killed. It had nothing to do with race or starting a turf war with the Aces, but an attempt to silence Deacon and distract the Rebels from the true reason he’d died.
His dying words made even more sense after seeing the videos. He’d known Norah could be in danger, what no one had counted on was Monty going to prison. Creed and Sloan had discovered his drug dealing when he sold to my mom. They’d set him up to take the fall for murders they had committed, but later the evidence implicating him had disappeared from lockup, allowing him to walk.
I’d started idly swiping through the pictures on the phone, but my fingers stilled when I came to a familiar face. The Chief of Police, Calvin Harris, who was a longtime opponent of the Southern Rebels, was pictured meeting with Monty. I wasn’t sure what the photo meant, other than the two knew each other and Deacon had felt it was important enough to document.
My phone buzzed, alerting me to a text, and I sneered when I saw it was from Dick. That was one motherfucker I wouldn’t mind killing. He wanted me to do his job, again, probably because he was high as a kite and curled up with that hot little honey I’d seen hanging around him. I replied with a quick yes, knowing I didn’t have a choice in the matter.
Before I left, I uploaded the entire contents of Deacon’s phone to the cloud as a backup. I couldn’t risk losing the files since it might be the only way to bring Monty down.
Chapter Seventeen
Crew
“You think I should leave,” she stated, her gaze wary, and I shrugged, trying for casual even though all I wanted to do was drag her out of there and as far away from today’s meeting as I could.
I had to make it seem like her choice though.
“I think you’ve done what you set out to do,” I replied carefully. “Staying here to die won’t make a difference.”
“You’ll leave?” She questioned sharply. “You don’t know where Norah is and I thought you wanted Monty to pay.” I heard the accusation in her voice and took a deep breath.
“I killed Martinez’s son,” I reminded her, shaking my head. “You can only pay that kind of debt with blood.” I paced in front of her, knowing our time was running out. “The whole live to fight another day kind of applies here.”
“How are we going to get out? We’ll get questioned if we leave now.” She waved her arm. “And then what? Ride away into the sunset on your bike?”
I grinned and she looked startled for a second. “Not quite,” I replied, grateful my brothers had assigned Weasel as my guard dog. “Do you trust me to get us out of here?”
“Alive?” She thought for a second. “Yeah, I do actually.”
“Then let’s go.”
She took my hand and I snatched my backpack off the chair, already packed and ready to go. I hesitated at the door. “Is there anything you want to take?”
She didn’t even look back as she shook her head. “No,” she said simply. “I don’t want anything from here. Not a single reminder of this place.”
I exhaled, nodding, as we hurried down the hall. Weasel had prepared a distraction as well as a getaway car. We just needed to get out of the building.
A huge blast
shook the building and Drea slammed into me. I caught her and started running for the back door.
“What the hell was that?” She cried, glancing over her shoulder.
“A diversion,” I answered right as we were forced to skid to a stop at the end of the hallway, almost running into the last person I wanted to see.
Monty met my eyes and for a second I thought he knew what I was up to. “We have to get out,” I shouted, distracting him. “Building’s on fire.” He gave me a short nod and gestured for the man behind him to proceed us. I recognized Domingo Martinez instantly, even without hearing Drea’s sharp inhale.
I nodded to the man, keeping my arm around Drea protectively. It was more for his protection than hers, but they didn’t need to know that. Her body vibrated next to mine and I tightened my arm, warning her to calm down.
This was definitely not part of the plan.
Martinez glanced over at us quickly, almost dismissively, but something must have given him pause because his head swung back toward us.
He said something in Spanish that I couldn’t understand, but whatever it was, Drea understood. “Move,” she hissed, pushing against me and I dove toward the door, my arm still locked around her.
Bullets sprayed the doorframe around us and I tugged her in front of me, keeping my body between her and the bullets. “What’s going on?” I managed as we spilled out into the back parking lot.
“He recognized me,” she gasped, her eyes wide with shock. I didn’t have time to question her further as they followed us out, still shooting at us. I grunted when one hit me, but continued to scan the parking lot for the truck Weasel promised would be there. More shots were fired, but this time it wasn’t at us, but the ones chasing us.
“Thank God,” I mumbled, jerking Drea after me as Weasel gave us cover. “That truck,” I said, pointing to a nondescript white box truck. “Keys are under the floor mat.” She nodded, letting me know she understood as I headed for the passenger side, clutching my side as blood seeped out.
She fumbled with the keys as I pulled myself inside, finally getting it started as the popping continued outside the building. “Go,” I shouted as red and blue lights converged on the parking lot. She slammed her foot down on the accelerator, bumping over the curb as she got us out of the parking lot and onto the road.
I groaned as the truck jostled, trying not to bleed out as I wondered if Weasel had gotten out. “Slow down,” I yelled as she careened down the dark highway. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”
She slowed, glancing over at me, then doing a double take. “You’re shot?” She asked incredulously. “Were you going to say anything?”
“It’s not important,” I muttered, shifting to a more upright position. “Keep going straight.” I nodded to the road as she kept glancing between me and the windshield. “Eyes on the road,” I barked, reaching for the seatbelt as she cut her eyes at me again.
She focused her gaze back on the road, both hands tense on the steering wheel as she drove us further away from Viper territory. “Where are we going?”
Pain glazed my voice as I said, “Home.” She glanced at me frantically and I forced my eyes to stay open as blood coated my hand. “Friendly,” I told her. “We’re going to Friendly.”
“Rebel territory?” She questioned, letting go of the steering wheel with one hand to prod my side. I let out a hiss and she jerked back. “You’re a traitor. They’ll kill you,” she yelled, surprising us both.
“You almost sound like you care,” I joked and she shot me a disbelieving stare. “Trust me, just go to Friendly, and find the bar with a line of bikes in front.”
She cast me another glance, looking worried, as I started to fade. “Promise me,” I rallied, needing to know she would do what I asked. “Friendly.”
She licked her lips, her fingers turning white on the steering wheel, as she said, “I promise.” I nodded, watching her until everything went black.
***
“I think he needs to go to a hospital,” someone said, their voice sharp enough to cut glass.
“And I think a hospital asks too many damn questions,” Johnny drawled, as someone poured what felt like straight alcohol over my side. I almost came up off the table I was laying on and Johnny said, “See, he’ll be fine.”
“I’m inclined to agree with,” Creed spoke, pausing, his voice quieting slightly as he must have turned his head. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was, sweetheart?”
“Drea,” she answered bitingly. “And clearly he needs to go to a hospital.”
“No hospital,” I groaned and her hand slapped down on my arm. “Too risky.”
I heard her sigh as silence surrounded us.
“What does he mean, too risky?” Clutch questioned and Drea’s fingers curled into my forearm. “What happened?”
“We were leaving, trying to escape before Martinez spotted us, but we ran into them coming out of the building,” Drea replied. “Martinez recognized me and they started shooting.”
“So you’re the reason he got shot?” Cord’s voice lowered dangerously. “You’re the reason my little brother is bleeding out on the club floor?”
“I told you he needs to go to a hospital,” she retorted, her voice shaky.
“But you brought him here,” Creed replied. “Why?”
“Because I promised him,” she answered tightly, her grip on my arm strong enough to leave a mark.
“Move,” another voice interrupted. “If he’s not going to a hospital then I need to stop the bleeding.” I rolled my head, spotting Micah next to me. She glanced down at me, nodding. “You’re gonna wish you’d stayed passed out for this part,” she informed me briskly. “It’s gonna hurt.” She poked her finger in the bullet wound and my vision went hazy as I gasped. “You might as well black out because its only going to get worse,” she advised, her finger digging into me, and I saw Drea’s tense expression. I turned my arm, grabbing her hand in mine and squeezed. Her gaze jerked to mine and I attempted a reassuring smile, but it didn’t work out as Micah wiggled her fingers and I lost consciousness.
I blinked, bright light almost blinding me and I closed my eyes against the glare. I must have made some noise because a hand settled on my face.
“Crew?” Sloan’s soft voice prompted me to open my eyes again, this time keeping them open as she blocked the source of the light. “Hey, welcome back to the land of the living.”
I groaned lightly. “Figured I wasn’t dead if you were here.”
She gave me a bemused glance. “Is that a compliment?”
“I expected to be somewhere hotter if I was dead,” I replied, my eyes trying to close again. I took a deep breath, wincing when it sent pain shooting down my side. “Drea?” I managed and Sloan’s gaze shifted to the corner of the room. I lifted my head enough to see her propped against the wall, dark hair covering her face. My head plopped back on the table as my breath gusted out of me, unexpectedly glad she was still there.
Sloan hummed, brushing my hair back off my forehead. “I won’t ask, but she refused to say anything other than her name.” A smile flickered on my lips. That sounded like her. “Your brothers were fit to be tied.” My smile widened and I heard her laugh. “You want me to get her?”
I shook my head, too quickly because the room swam. “No,” I said thickly, swallowing. “Let her sleep.”
“Let me get you some water,” she said, hurrying out of the room. I turned my head as the door closed behind her and Drea looked at me, lifting her finger to her lips. I nodded and she crept to me.
“You’re okay?” She whispered worriedly and I dipped my head, but the worry didn’t leave her eyes.
“I’m fine,” I murmured and she grimaced.
“You’re not fine,” she whispered sharply. “You got shot.” She bit down on her lip, hard enough to draw blood and I raised my arm to reach for her. “No,” she said, shaking her head as she pushed my arm back down. “You got shot because of me. Because t
hat bastard recognized me.” I heard the disgust in her voice as she swallowed. “I have to go,” she said abruptly, squeezing my hand.
“Why?” I asked, tightening my hand around hers when it seemed like she wasn’t going to answer. “Why?” I insisted and she kneeled next to me.
“I’m DEA,” she admitted and I closed my eyes for a long second. “Yeah, I can’t….I won’t turn you in.” She chewed on her lip as I looked at her again. “You weren’t there, okay?” She nodded to herself. “I will protect you, but you have to promise me,” she glanced at the door and then back to me, “Don’t go after Monty.”
I made an automatic sound of disagreement and she ducked her head. “Crew, I promise he will pay. I’ll make sure he goes back to prison, but I can’t protect you if you go after him.”
My eyes narrowed and I licked my dry lips. “Go back to prison,” I repeated, my mind catching on that phrase. “What do you mean?”
“His release from prison was arranged so we could get to Martinez, but with Martinez’s arrest we can pursue Monty for other crimes,” she explained, like it was reasonable.
“You let him out?” I asked, rage almost blinding me. “You…let….him….out.” She nodded carefully. “You’re the reason Norah ran,” I mumbled, jerking my hand from hers. “The reason I killed Dick, Tad, Martinez’s son, and the others.”
She shook her head, “I can’t hear this.”
“You saw it,” I snarled, anger bubbling inside me. “You don’t get to pick and choose the crimes, Drea. No matter who you are. Releasing Monty started all of this.” My eyes flashed as I pushed myself up, ignoring the sensation of tearing along my side. “Who helped you?” She remained silent and I got in her face. “Tell me.”
“We worked with the Chief of Police to make the evidence disappear against Monty,” she said abruptly. “I worked with him,” she admitted. “It was my idea.”
“Get out,” I commanded, breathing heavily as pain tried to remind me I wasn’t invincible. “Get out before I kill you.”
Traitor (Southern Rebels MC Book 3) Page 8