Midnight Deceit: A Midnight Riders Motorcycle Club Romance Part 3

by Olivia Thorne

  “Right. Except for the whole ‘reporting on a murderous motorcycle gang’ thing,” I sneered.

  He gave me a probing look, like I’d just slipped up and he’d caught me. “‘Murderous’?”

  “You were the one who made the call and told them to hold off on the Santa Muerte gunman. I don’t even know what happened to him. What did happen, exactly?”

  “Let law enforcement deal with it, Fiona.”

  “If you mean local law enforcement, maybe you haven’t noticed, but the Richards Police Department doesn’t really give a shit about anything that goes on with the Midnight Riders.”

  He nodded. “Your cousin’s murder.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I might be able to help you with that.”

  I froze. It took me a second to respond.

  “W… what do you mean?”

  “I mean I might be able to help you find out what happened to your cousin.”

  20

  Jack

  Lou almost had me. If there was someone in Fiona’s room, we had to know who it was.

  But then I remembered Roach’s rape charges from ten years ago – remembered his knife collection –

  “I’ll handle it,” I said.

  Lou sneered at me. “You’ll handle it. Right.”

  “I will. I’ll get it out of her – not Roach.”

  “What are you gonna do, Jack, fuck it out of her?”

  “Uhhhh… Lou, whatchoo want me to do?”

  “Get the fuck over there and find out who’s in the room with her.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  “Then break down the goddamn door if you have to.”

  “NO,” I yelled.

  “Uhhhh…?”

  “I said I’ll handle it,” I snapped at Lou.

  “What, you gonna go do it now? ‘Cause in case you didn’t notice, I already got a guy there who can handle it.”

  Yeah, with a knife and his dick.

  “I’LL HANDLE IT.”

  “What’re you gonna do, go over and knock on the door all gentleman-like and say, ‘Hey, Mr. FBI man, can I speak with your partner Fiona for a second?’”

  “Why you keep bringin’ up the FBI, Lou?”

  “Roach, get over to that goddamn door RIGHT NOW and do whatever it fuckin’ takes.”

  “Roach, don’t you listen to – ” I started.

  Lou took the phone off speaker and put it up to his ear. “Roach, you answer to ME. DO IT.”

  “You son of a bitch,” I roared, and let the first punch fly.

  21

  Fiona

  I stared at Eddie. “You said you don’t know why she was there that night.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Do you know who killed her?”

  “No.”

  “So – ”

  “But I have access to a lot of information gathered over the course of our investigation. There might be something valuable in there.”

  It was an enticing offer, to be sure. DEA Agent Edward Deacon was dangling what could be the golden ticket in front of me.

  But golden tickets don’t come without a price.

  Especially when the devil’s holding them.

  “In exchange for what?” I asked suspiciously.

  “In exchange for your help in gathering information on Jack Pollari, Louis Shaw, and the rest of the Midnight Riders Motorcycle Club.”

  I stared at him. “You want me to do what Ali did for you.”

  “If you mean help put criminals behind bars, then yes, I do.”

  “And risk my life.”

  “You’re already risking your life.”

  “For the right reason,” I said.

  “This is an even better one.”

  “Not to me.”

  “You’d be safer working with us. I’ll take care of you.”

  “Like you took care of Ali? No thanks.”

  “I told you, she was out on her own the night she died. I had no knowledge of it, and I certainly didn’t put her in that situation.”

  I shook my head. “You’re already on the inside. If you don’t have enough to convict them already, what the hell do you think I can find?”

  “I’m a mid-level player. You have access to the president of the club.”

  “I’ve slept with him a couple of times. That’s it. It’s just a fling.”

  The ‘just a fling’ part was a lie. I knew it – and apparently Eddie did, too.

  But he knew it for other reasons.

  “From what I’ve seen of Jack Pollari over the last three years, I’d say it runs a little deeper than just a fling. He seems to be pretty taken with you. Maybe even in love.”

  I’m not going to deny that my heart fluttered when he said that.

  Taken with you.

  Maybe even in love.

  But his next words made it sound ugly. Tawdry.

  “We need somebody on the deep inside. The new girlfriend of the president of the Midnight Riders is the perfect source.”

  The perfect source.

  “So you want me to betray a man who you think is in love with me.”

  “A criminal who’s in love with you.”

  “Jack’s not a criminal,” I said without even thinking.

  “Well, at least we know you’re objective,” Eddie muttered sarcastically.

  I really wanted to slap this guy upside the head.

  But while I entertained the fantasy of doing just that, something he’d said rang a bell.

  “You said ‘three years.’ You’ve been undercover three years?”

  “Just under three, yes.”

  “Three years, and you haven’t found anything.”

  “We’ve found plenty.”

  “But not enough, or you would have busted them already.”

  For the first time, I saw Agent Deacon squirm. “I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.”

  “You haven’t found shit,” I realized.

  “We’ve found things.”

  “Nothing really serious. Not enough to put them away forever.”

  He grimaced, then relented. “…not yet.”

  “You realize why, don’t you?”

  “Because Jack Pollari is incredibly good at covering up the club’s illegal activities.”

  “No – because Jack Pollari is clean. He’s one of the good guys. He’s reformed the club. You have to have seen that; you’ve been here the entire time he’s been president. You haven’t found anything on him because there isn’t anything to find.”

  “Evidence points to the contrary.”

  “What evidence?”

  “I can’t go into that.”

  “If you want me to risk my fucking life – ”

  “I thought you just said Pollari was a good guy.”

  “He is. Lou isn’t.”

  Eddie nodded. “That one’s obvious.”

  “Why not bust Lou? You could get him on what happened earlier tonight. You phoned it in, for God’s sake.”

  “I’m with the Justice Department, not the local P.D.”

  “What, gang-style executions aren’t good enough for you?”

  “We’re trying to wipe out an entire distribution operation, not put a couple of guys behind bars.”

  I squinted at him. “You think Lou’s doing something really big, don’t you?”

  “We think both of them are doing something really big.”

  “Jack’s not.”

  “Then prove it.”

  “Prove it on your own.”

  Special Agent Eddie started to get a little testy. “You don’t help me, I don’t help you find out what happened to your cousin.”

  What a dick. This whole thing was all just a ruse to get me under his thumb.

  “You don’t know what happened to her, so I don’t see that as a great loss.”

  “Like I said: I have access to intel you can only dream about.”

  “You could help me out of the goodness of your heart,” I suggested mo
ckingly.

  “I scratch your back, you scratch mine, Fiona. Otherwise… no.”

  “If you prosecute Lou or… somebody else, I could get the information anyway through the court files.”

  “Only what shows up in the court case. And that’s if it goes to trial, and if the perps don’t plea out, and if the indictments aren’t sealed, and if the court records are made public. Which they might not be… considering it’s an ongoing investigation and all that,” he said with a smug smile. “Even if everything breaks in your direction, it’ll still take years for you to find out. And that’s if we play nice.”

  “If you play nice, you mean.”

  He cocked his head like, Yeah. That’s exactly right.

  “You’re a fucking asshole,” I seethed.

  “I’ve been called that before.”

  For a few seconds, I actually thought about taking him up on his offer. The possibility of turning down all that information made my guts churn.

  But in the end, the price was too high.

  I didn’t think Jack was a bad guy, and I wasn’t about to sell him down the river to a government asshole trying to strong-arm me.

  “I’ll pass,” I said.

  Eddie’s face darkened. “You’re making a mistake.”

  “Yeah, but it’s my mistake to make. Shut the door on the way out.”

  He sighed. “I was hoping you’d be a bit more cooperative than this.”

  “Too bad.”

  “If you don’t choose to help me voluntarily… then I’m going to have to persuade you.”

  I stared at him. “Are you threatening me?”

  He gave me a patronizing little smile. “No. I’m suggesting an alternate way of looking at the circumstances.”

  Oh my God… I swear, if I had my .38, and if he wasn’t a DEA agent…

  Fuck the .38.

  I’d just break out the Krav Maga and snap both his wrists.

  “Fuck you. You’ve got no leverage on me.”

  “I could expose you. To the club. Tell them why you’re really here.”

  22

  Jack

  I launched a punch at him first, but Lou was fast. Back in the day he’d been a bare knuckle brawler. Word is he’d royally fucked up a couple of guys during his stay in San Quentin, years before I came to the club.

  Me hitting him in the desert? He’d let that happen. There had been an audience, and he had basically orchestrated it all for effect.

  Now there was no audience, and the fucker didn’t want to get tapped.

  He sidestepped at the last second. My fist whistled just past his cheek.

  “You stupid shit,” he snarled, and let loose with a left to my gut.

  I felt the punch – he hit hard – but by that time I was closer to him.

  WHAM! Left to the side of his head. He bobbed at the end, so I hit his ear rather than his temple, but it was a solid connection.

  He staggered backward.

  “Give me the phone!” I barked.

  “Fuck you, you goddamn – ”

  I roared and went in close with a flurry of jabs. He put his arms up, blocking them in a classic boxer’s stance.

  That’s when I kneed him in the gut, street-fighting style.

  He groaned, doubled over, and dropped the phone on the floor.

  I scooped it up and brought it to my ear.

  “Roach?”

  No answer.

  23

  Fiona

  It was like Eddie had punched me in the gut.

  I sat there, my mouth hanging open. It took me a few seconds to respond.

  I couldn’t believe the utter maliciousness of what he’d just said.

  The evil of it.

  “You’d be killing me if you did that,” I said.

  “I thought you said Pollari was one of the good guys.”

  “Lou’s not.”

  “Well, maybe Pollari will protect you. If he’s that good of a guy.”

  I imagined the anger and hurt on Jack’s face if he found out, and wondered.

  Then the fear and adrenaline lessened, and my brain started to function again.

  “You won’t expose me,” I said coldly.

  “I will if you don’t cooperate.”

  “Oh yeah? What if I expose you?”

  Eddie crossed his arms. “U.S. Code 50, Section 421 – if you expose an undercover agent of the federal government, it’s a felony with a potential sentence of 15 years.”

  The anger came back first. This son of a bitch actually had the nerve to blackmail me! “Get the fuck out of my room. NOW.”

  “I’m not finished. If you expose me, the DEA will just pull me off the case, in which case we lose a three-year investigation. You, on the other hand… not only will we charge you under Section 421, we’ll charge you with obstruction and colluding with a criminal organization under the RICO statutes. And if I die as a result of you exposing me, you’ll be charged with accessory to murder, plus all the other charges. Best case scenario, you expose me, you’re going to be spending the next couple of decades in jail.” He smiled coldly. “I’ll make sure of it with the very next phone call as soon as I leave this room.”

  I stared at him, and I could feel terror ooze slowly through my stomach. “You’re serious.”

  “Of course.”

  Rage took over at that point. “But if I die, OH WELL!”

  “You’re not going to die. We’ll protect you.”

  “Like you protected my cousin?” I sneered.

  “If you don’t do anything stupid, then you don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “I’d say that trusting you might just be the stupidest thing I could possibly do.”

  He sighed again. “I don’t care why you do it, Fiona. You can do it to help yourself, you can do it to put bad guys behind bars, you can do it for your country. You can do it to bring your cousin’s murderer to justice, or you can do it to save your own skin. But I need you to do it.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “You always have a choice.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Is this the kind of choice you gave Ali?”

  “More or less.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  Before I could answer, though, his cell phone rang. Eddie checked it, and answered immediately. “Yes? Okay. Jam everything for the next five minutes and send backup. NOW.”

  Eddie hung up and turned towards me.

  “NSA is monitoring the cell network since my phone call for Lou earlier. Seems somebody within a tenth of a mile of here tripped the wire,” he said in a hushed voice.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means there’s somebody outside this room who knows we’re here.”

  24

  Jack

  Suddenly the phone beeped.

  I checked the screen.

  CALL FAILED.

  “What the fuck?!” I swore.

  There was a little green circle down in the lower right-hand corner. ‘Retry Call.’

  I pressed it.

  “You goddamn sonuvabitch…” Lou griped as he staggered backwards.

  I ignored him and listened to the phone ring… and ring… and ring.

  Suddenly Roach’s country twang drawled, “This is Roach. Leave a fuckin’ message.”

  My heart contracted with fear as I imagined what might be happening – if Roach had actually broken into Fiona’s motel room –

  “Roach – you stop whatever the fuck you’re doing and call me or Lou, NOW.”

  I hung up the phone. Lou and I both looked at each other.

  “Well… either he’s getting the information… or something happened,” Lou said as he sat down in his chair and lit another cigar.

  25

  Fiona

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was like a bad spy movie.

  “The NSA?!”

  “Let’s discuss this later.”

  “I thought they only s
pied on terrorism plots!”

  “This falls under the rubric of domestic terrorism.”

  I looked at him like he’d lost his damn mind. “No it doesn’t!”

  “To get any funding these days, yeah, it does. Quiet.”

  He turned off the light, and we stood there in the darkness, listening.

  No sound from outside, although my heart was loud enough in my ears that I was surprised Eddie couldn’t hear it.

  “Is there a back way out of this place?” he whispered.

  “It’s a hot sheet motel. There’s not exactly a back door to the suite.”

  “If it’s a hot-sheet motel, then there’s absolutely a back door.”

  He brushed past me into the bathroom, where there was a shitty, glass-slat window – the kind with overlapping plates you could hand-crank down – that barely kept the moths out.

  “This’ll do,” he said, and started yanking the plates out of their casings and piling them on the floor.

  “Are you crazy?” I hissed.

  “Like a fox. Here.”

  He handed over my gun.

  “Oh, so you trust me now?” I whispered sarcastically.

  “Gotta start sometime. Get on the other side of the bed. Don’t open fire unless he does.”

  “Open fi – wait, aren’t I coming with you?!”

  “No. I’m circling back around on him.”

  “I don’t want to stay here!”

  “Too bad. I need you as bait.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to endanger me!”

  “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  With that, he stepped up on the toilet, knocked out the rickety wire screen, and pulled himself through the window.

  “I want to come!”

  “Get on the other side of the bed. At least you’ll have cover if he starts shooting.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Some other time,” he whispered, and I heard his boots running over the hard-packed dirt.

  Shit – shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT –

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Ma’am? It’s the night manager.”