by Winters, KB
“All right.” Gunnar practically growled as he looked around at each and every one of us. “Since most of the shit on the agenda today is Reckless Bastards shit one way or another, I’ll start us off.” His gaze slid to Curt, who gave a nod of approval and we got down to business.
“Chance.”
It was a strange feeling sitting around a table like this and having guys who weren’t Lords staring back at me. Holden’s stoic expression was the most calming, but it did fuck all to help in that moment, so I sucked in a deep breath and said what I had to say.
“Monica says the case is weak, but since someone claims they saw me with a blade to his neck in the weeks before his death, it ain’t lookin’ good.”
That day. It was that day that had fucked me, that couldn’t be how it all ended. “What are the fucking odds?”
“Wait so you did pull a blade on him?”
The surprised, almost indignant question came from Slayer. Surprisingly. Not.
“Yeah, I did. He followed me, again, after I told him not to. And after he backhanded me, if I need another reason.”
I hoped Slayer could feel the weight of my glare on the side of his face. Coward wouldn’t even look at me.
“We need proof he offed himself,” Slayer said.
“The video isn’t enough fucking proof? The prick stuck a gun under his chin and pulled the goddamn trigger. Why is this rocket science all of a sudden?” Gunnar smacked the table, nearly toppling the few cans of beer scattered about.
“Apparently not,” I said, my attitude coming through in my sniping tone. Something about all of that still didn’t add up, and I made a mental note to do more digging when I got home.
“Besides, as far as I can tell it doesn’t sound like they have video. McAllister didn’t mention it and neither did Monica.”
“Why didn’t you mention that before now?” Slayer. Again.
“Because I figured the cameras at the club were for show, just like all the bars and liquor stores in town.” It was a moot point anyway. “Besides if there was a video, then none of this would be happening, would it?” I huffed.
“Not necessarily,” Gunnar said with a sigh. “My old MC went through some shit with crooked politicians. They fight dirtier than the real crooks.”
“Seriously guys?” Cruz looked around the room with a playful smile on his face, blue eyes sparkling with unwarranted mischief.
“We’re seriously not gonna talk about the fact that Kevin McAllister is prosecuting Slayer’s chick?” He looked around again and I had to bite my lips to stop from smiling.
“Home Alone?” When more silence followed, Cruz shrugged. “Sorry but it’s funny. Carry on.”
Cruz looked so disappointed I flashed him a small smile because I had the same thought during my interrogation. I was about to speak when Gunnar interrupted.
“What the fuck do you mean they don’t have video? I handed that shit over myself,” he growled, the look on his face brutal.
“McAllister didn’t mention it.” And I was sure Monica would have if she had it, but she did promise to get her investigator on it. Which was why I’d happily write a big fat check to her law firm. If she’d ever send me the invoice.
“I’ll get Peaches to send a copy of the file straight to your lawyer. ASAP.” Even as he spoke, Gunnar pulled out his phone and his thumbs flew over the screen.
“Thanks but it won’t be enough, not if this crooked prosecutor is trying to use me to launch his political career. I’m headed over to Leon’s apartment to see if I can find anything to prove he was a stalking piece of shit so maybe I can stay out of jail.”
I knew I sounded like an ungrateful bitch, but Monica’s word had stuck with me. She used the phrase up a creek without a paddle. McAllister had ambitions and a female biker guilty of murder would be exactly the kind of thing that made a man governor in this state.
“The fuck you are!” Slayer’s roar silence all the other chatter in the room, and I shot him a dark look.
“Excuse me?”
“You can not go to his apartment.” Slayer looked to Curt and then Brick for assistance and then back to me.
“Christ Chance, the last thing you need is for your hair and DNA to be found in an apartment you’ve never been in, at least I assume that’s what you told the detective?”
He was on his feet, glaring down at me like some big bearded Viking with dark hair, concern and anger swimming in his eyes.
“Don’t be stupid and get a tampering charge tacked on.”
“Don’t call me stupid.”
“Then don’t do something stupid like get acquitted of murder and convicted of tampering. That would be dumb as fuck, Chance.”
I glared at Slayer, pissed off at him for a variety of reasons, the least of which was for pretending like he gave a damn when it was so clear he didn’t. And dummy me, I cared too much. Another time, I had to remind myself.
“I need to see if there’s any proof he was suicidal or otherwise mentally unstable and that it didn’t have jack shit to do with me or the end of our relationship. The only person who knows what to look for is me.”
And if I’d done what I should have from the beginning, I wouldn’t even be in this goddamn mess.
Slayer nodded, no longer angry but not gloating. Not smug. Contemplative was the best to describe his pinched, almost thoughtful expression aimed at the floor. Then his resolve kicked in, and Slayer circled the table until he was right in front of me, his big hands resting on my shoulders.
“Okay. Then tell me what to look for. Diaries or home movies, computer files, whatever. Tell me, and I’ll take one of the Lords with me to scour everything.”
I looked up at him wanting to say yes but feeling hesitation vibrating my body.
“Every-fucking-thing,” he said, voice deep yet gentle.
It was sweet. Really fucking sweet from a guy who was anything but, and that was exactly why I already cared too much.
“Why? You don’t need to get yourself involved in this. None of you do. McAllister will come after you all if he has to.”
Curt grunted. “You know we ain’t worried about that mother fucker. We’re gathering intel,” he said vaguely. “Let Slayer go with Brick.”
“No. With all the connections to me everyone will be facing tampering charges, or does that not matter anymore?”
Curt glared at me but I saw the way his lips trembled with the force of holding back his laughter. “Slayer and Curt will go to Leon’s place to find evidence of his crazy.” And that was it, the Prez had spoken. Dammit.
“Curt,” I began but Slayer cut me off.
“Getting me involved was your brainchild, sweetheart, so now I’m here and we’re all trying to help. All of us.”
I sighed and shook my head.
“I can’t sit around do fuck all while you guys do my dirty work. I need to do something.”
Brick laughed and rubbed a hand over his short hair. “That’s what we do, the other Lords’ dirty work when he—or she—can’t. Me and lover boy have got you covered Chance, don’t worry.”
At my expression he laughed.
“I mean worry. It’s fucking prison, but we’ve got this.”
I nodded, agreeing because I had to, not because I wanted to.
“I know he was on drugs but I also think he was selling. Not like dime bags, though. Something bigger. Look for any familiar names written on scraps of paper, scales and packaging. Shit like that.” I didn’t really know shit about Leon’s life, not since we broke up and not since he was booted from the Lords.
“I need something to do.”
A rare grin spread across Gunnar’s face. “I’m glad to hear you say that because our next order of business is mine. I need an unfamiliar face who can hold her own.”
I leaned forward. “I’m listening.”
“Perfect. He’ll never see you coming.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about, and I didn’t really care, as long as I had someth
ing else to focus on while everyone else tried to get me off a murder rap, I wouldn’t lose my shit. Not yet, anyway.
The plans were in place at the end of the first official meeting and despite the prison sentence hanging over my head, I thought it went well. If nothing else, bringing these guys together could be my legacy.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Slayer
“So what do you think of this whole Counsel thing?”
Brick looked at me with a smirk on his face as we climbed the stairs up to Leon’s apartment. It was in a decent part of town, not particularly crime ridden but low income and temporary.
“You worried you steppin’ on somebody’s toes?”
I laughed. “No smartass, I’m just wondering what you think about it?”
“I think The Counsel is a silly fucking name,” he said on a sigh. “But it’s a good fucking idea for both clubs.”
He shook his head like he still couldn’t believe me and turned to me when we reached Leon’s door.
“Leave it to Chance to make weird shit work.”
I didn’t know if those words were meant to be comforting or insulting, so I nodded and extended an arm to knock on the door. Not because I expected anyone to answer, I didn’t. The police had left the place earlier in the day, even removed all the yellow and black tape. The apartment had been returned to the building manager, who was out of town until the middle of next week.
“No answer.”
“Let’s hope the place hasn’t already been ransacked.” Brick gave a short nod and raised his foot to kick the door.
“Hang on, animal.” I tried the doorknob and the it swung right open. When I looked back at Brick, he grinned and lifted his wide shoulders and let them fall.
“Discreet is the word of the day.”
“So is throat punch,” he growled behind me.
I flipped him off, and we shared a laugh, but as soon as we started searching the apartment, silence descended other than a few grunts and one-word commands.
“Kitchen, clear,” I said as if we were on a mission.
A pizza box sat on top of the trash and a few beer cans littered the sink, the signs a bachelor lived here. I made my way back through the living room. It was decorated like any other cheap furnished apartment with bland beige sofas and sorta blue carpet. Down the small hallway, I found the bedroom, bathroom and linen closet. All empty and clean aside from the half ass search done by the cops.
“Anything?”
Brick arched a brow at me. “You Bastards really are all former military? Fuckers sound like five-oh.”
“Yeah, we really are.” I didn’t bother to explain that you were never a former service member, just active or inactive. “Anything down here?”
“No people if that’s what you mean. Let’s start looking in the bedroom. Isn’t that where little girls keep their diaries?”
He snickered to himself and I joined in, feeling almost like it was me and Cruz taking care of business.
“Should you be saying that when your VP is a girl and all?”
I was busting his balls, and Brick barked out a laugh to let me know he knew it.
“Hell, yeah, Chance ain’t no ordinary girl.”
Brick turned toward the tall dresser beside the window, and I took the chest of drawers by the door.
“Don’t me wrong, she’s all woman and all that shit, but she ain’t never been no little girl. She tell you about the first time she got shot?”
My stomach churned at the idea of Chance being shot. Again.
“Hell no. I barely survived her most recent gunshot wound.”
“Interesting,” he said but his smile quickly returned, along with more details.
“The crazy bitch shot herself because the guy was too fucking big and he had the jump on her little ass, holding her from behind with her bent all backward so her legs were flailing around. The rest of us are getting our asses handed to us, no lie. Shot through the side of her leg straight through his thigh. Sent the fucker right to his knees. I knew then and there she was one of us.”
The smile on his face, the affection, paid truth to his words.
That was one crazy story. “She wasn’t a Lord yet?”
“Nope. Soon after, though.”
A comfortable silence settled between us as we got lost in our tasks, combing through Leon’s things. It should have been morbid, going through a dead man’s possessions, but Leon had been nothing but trouble.
“You not just playing with Chance, are you?”
I glanced over my shoulder to see if he was serious, but Brick was carefully going through every sheet of paper in what seemed to be some sort of writing desk, expression serious.
“Is this where you threaten me if I hurt her?” I asked as I stepped into Leon’s bathroom, finding a handful of needles in a small canvas bag taped behind the toilet tank, along with aluminum foil and a glass pipe.
An unopened box of condoms sat beside deodorant and aftershave in the medicine cabinet. The towels and rugs were gone but otherwise the room was empty.
“Do I need to threaten you?”
The idea that he could was laughable. Brick was big and fierce, but he didn’t have the training or the discipline I did.
“Chance can take care of herself.”
“She can,” he agreed. “And she will, just like the rest of us. But that don’t mean we won’t back her up, even if she doesn’t know she needs it.”
I stepped into the hall and looked at Brick, our gazes connected for a moment of masculine understanding.
“Good to know,” I told him.
It was nice to see Chance had the same bond with her club that I had with mine. I never thought much about having a woman in the MC, but it seemed to work for them.
“Chance and I need a moment of fucking peace so we can talk. Figure out what the fuck we are.”
The last two nights we’d both been insatiable, out of lust as well as other things. We spent most of last night arguing and fucking. It was hot as hell.
But it was also damned exhausting.
“Good luck,” Brick snorted. “I stopped thinking about peace years ago. It’s a trap, waiting for shit to cool down before you start living. That perfect time ain’t even gonna happen, so take your next moment and instead of fucking, figure your shit out.”
Who knew the big man had such insight?
“Yeah, thanks,” I told him and returned to the bedroom, making a line straight for the closet.
“This place is a shit hole,” he grumbled and lifted the full-size mattress, wincing at the smell emanating from the box spring mattress.
“But shit man…look.”
Curiosity piqued, I left the closet to stand beside Brick and looked at the perfect hole cut into the box spring. Two books, one brown leather and the other black. A black duffel bag filled almost to bursting.
“Now aren’t you glad I insisted on gloves?”
“Fucking boy scouts,” he grumbled and reached for the bag with his gloved hands. “Shit, is that Oxy?”
Odds were good that was exactly what they were. That shit went for a lot of money on the streets because it was addictive as hell, a guaranteed money maker if you were into that sort of thing. As I flipped through the brown leather-bound notebook, I nodded absently at Brick’s words.
“Based on the numbers in this ledger, I’d say its Oxy or meth. Maybe that new shit.”
“Fentanyl?” Brick whistled and dropped the bag, taking the notebook from my hands. “Shit, who did Leon fuck over?”
“Good question.” I opened the black book, hoping it would be the clue we needed to keep Chance around long enough for us to figure our shit out.
“She and Curt are fucking, I know they are even though they both deny it.”
“What the fuck?”
I held up the book. “Diary. It’s page after page,” I told him as I flipped through Leon’s drug-addled or maybe mentally ill writings.
“Why else would he make her VP?
Curt is fucking my woman. All caps and about twenty exclamation points.”
“You sure the police went through this place? How could they not flip the mattress? I thought that was police search 101?”
“Fuck if I know,” I said. “Your tax dollars at work.”
Brick laughed and moved on. “It’s funny he picked Curt because they’re the closest of all of us, but like brother and sister close. Trust close. Otherwise, she could never be VP.”
I knew the dynamics. It’s why Gunnar and Wheeler made such a good team.
“Leon was out of his fucking mind.”
“I’ll make the bitch pay. She’s mine and no one else’s.”
“Crazy bastard. Think that’s enough?” I shook my head and Brick nodded his agreement. “You guys really got footage?”
“Hell, yeah. The whole place is wired up, man. Can’t have any accusations inside the club.”
“Of course. Smart. But you know, that means McAllister is in this shit up to his eyeballs?”
I nodded because, yeah, that thought had crossed my mind a time or two. Or ten.
“Let’s hope your intel turns up something useful.”
“It will. It’s how we got our girl out on bail so quick.” In that moment I realized I liked Brick and respected him. He was loyal to his club which said a lot about him, and he didn’t mind getting his hands dirty to keep them safe.
“Shit, listen. I’ll kill that long haired motherfucker and then she’ll come back to me. She’ll have to. He underlined that shit about fifty times,” I said and held up the diary for Brick to see.
“No shit. He was gonna kill you?”
“Seems so. He was a lousy fucking shot, but that’s not all. If she won’t leave Texas with me, then we’ll leave this world. Together. It’s dated the day he did himself in.”
Brick smiled. “That and your surveillance footage should do it. Right?”
“Let’s fucking hope so,” I told him and tucked the books into the inside panel in my jacket.
“Then you can get some fucking peace and tell Chance you love her, right?”
I looked up at him with a frown. “What the fuck is it with bikers and their feelings lately? Is this some new Instagram trend I’m missing out on?”