“Minor offenses in vandalism until age thirteen, then six months in juvenile hall which seemed to do the trick...nothing after that,” he says looking up and raising the two sheets of paper from the folder in each hand.
“Now this,” he pauses as he reaches down again, bringing up a binder and making a thud as he drops it on the table.
“This is your official file, my file,” he smiles.
The binder is no measly little thing, the three rings holding the papers together is barely closing...fuck, FUCK. I look from the binder to meet his laughing eyes, and I want to smack that stupid look off his face. Instead, I keep my eyes on his, my face void of any reaction. His jaw ticks slightly, and a vein begins protruding in his temple with frustration that he got zero reaction from me.
“You were off the radar until five years ago, five years ago your dad gets locked up for murder. You either patch into Warrior of the Gods, or simply take his place.”
The way he says this, I know he’s not quite sure which it is himself.
“The day I took you to lunch and told you I had a disagreement with an associate…my boss told me if I didn’t get you to incriminate yourself at that lunch, then the case was to be left alone and revisited at a later date, when we had more on the club. Of course you didn’t say anything, you lied better than I thought. So, I made Milton pick you up and bring you in. I was the one behind the mirror. Again, you gave nothing away...and we were about to call it quits when we hit pay dirt.” he smirks.
He pulls out a set of photos of us sitting by the window of the diner that day, and now it makes sense why he made us go there and sit where we did. Photos to prove in court that we met, he probably was also wired as we spoke. With the binder still open, he retrieves a paper and sets it in front of me. My eyes not leaving his, as he looks between me and the paper.
“You’ll want to look at this Maven.”
My eyes don’t budge, and again his jaw ticks.
“We found your prints in the Durango compound, on a door knob.”
Fuck...fuck...fuck. Again, I’m instantly aware of my body. Remaining stock still, my breathing slow and calm. Trying to not allow the artery in my neck to thump wildly in sync with my heartbeat. The Feds had to have been watching us, how else would they know about Durango? It’s not as if someone reported that their illegal semi-automatic guns were almost stolen.
“And?” I ask.
Justice smiles wider and shakes his head slightly, sitting back in his chair.
“You don’t get it Maven,we got you.”
I narrow my eyes.
“What do you want?”
There’s no point in denying my involvement with the MC at this point. I want to know what this is all really about, knowing full well I’m not who Justice actually wants. I’m a no one in the scheme of things.
“We’re willing to grant the release of your dad from prison and to not press charges or investigate further into the Durango robbery...if you provide us detailed information about Warrior of the Gods and other clubs.”
“Information?”
Justice’s jaw begins to tick again, as he crosses his arms over his chest.
“The guns, the drugs, other shit. We want to catch the big dogs, Sven Fredricksen, Judas Watson, all the Presidents.”
“Why me?”
“Because when I met you for lunch, you lied on the fly better than I’ve ever seen anyone lie in my career. Not just your words, but your reactions, you don’t have any tells.”
His brows raise as he leans forward, and begins flipping through the papers in the binder.
“You said you didn’t go to college, but you graduated high school early and went to UCLA, graduated with honors with business and accounting degrees in three years at the age of nineteen. You made up that bullshit story about your neighbor, and him getting you into bikes instantly. You didn’t even blink when I mentioned the Warrior of the Gods. It’s like lying comes easier to you then telling the truth...and that’s why it has to be you. I know they won’t suspect you of being an informant because, you can just lie.”
Justice acts like he’s had some eureka moment, I shake my head and let out a humorless laugh.
“Those guys, they know me better than anyone...they’ll know I’m lying.”
Especially Dornan, and the instant thought of him and doing this, makes my heart hurt.
“Maven, if you don’t agree to this you’re lookin at twenty-five to life for what I have in this binder,” he states placing a hand on it. “Now, I know this is a shock, you need a little time, we’re giving you until tomorrow night-”
“You’re giving me as long as I want, because you have no case against the MC without me. So you go ahead and press charges against me for my fingerprints being on a door handle, along with hundreds of other people’s at an attempted robbery scene, and good luck proving I’d never been in that building before. It doesn’t sound like that’s the real case you want, Justice.”
He just looks at me, fuck, I hope I’m right on this one. If I go to trial and they have all the circumstantial evidence he claims is in his binder, a lawyer could convince a judge or jury that I was at the crime scene, and past history would nail me to the cross.
“There were items taken from the scene. Assault rifles that would have no problem finding their way onto your property if necessary.”
This fucker was going to set me up. I begin to stand when he raises a hand for me to stop, his eyes looking at me with intensity.
“There’s something else I want you to see before you leave,” his voice taking on a somber tone.
He digs to the center of the binder, freeing a separate thinner green folder. Setting it down, before sliding it closer to me across the table. He looks back up at me before opening it, and my eyes trail down to see a dead woman, naked, with long dark hair covering her face and breasts. She doesn’t look like she’s been dead very long when these were taken. Her hair’s tangled, her skin dirty, and she looks beaten and bruised. I narrow my eyes, and look back up at Justice in confusion.
“These are the remains of your mother Maven. In a shallow grave, W.G. carved into her forehead. The club killed your mom Maven, she didnot leave you.”
My heart plummets into my stomach, bile crawling up my throat as I literally feel the blood drain from my face. I begin to shake my head frantically, covering my mouth with my hand as my eyes tear.
No fucking no, stop Maven. Pull it together, not here, and not in front of them.
“Jesus Christ,” Milton growls as he stomps into the room, slamming the file shut, and shoving it back across the table at Justice.
“The club isn’t your family, they killed your mother and they will kill you too if given half a reason. Think about this, is this who you’ll go to jail for the rest of your life for?” Justice says in a rush because he knows I’m about to bolt.
He tosses a stack of photos onto the table, scattering them everywhere. Pictures of my brothers, my dad, Sven, Missy, and the one that lands closest to me...Dornan. I stand quickly, the chair falling back onto the floor with a clatter.
“You used to be a good person Maven, before the club. I know you can do the right thing,” Justice adds calmly.
“Take me home,” I order Milton.
He nods and walks towards the front door, I’m right behind him when Justice grabs my arm.
“Here,” he says, handing me a business card. “Take this, call me at this number when you decide, the number you have for me now will no longer be in service. We don’t have much time, but I will let you think about it.”
I jerk my arm away, walking out of the house behind Milton. I take several deep breaths outside in an attempt to push the burning acid rising in my stomach, and back down my throat. I can’t breathe, the world’s spinning, and I can’t navigate what’s real and what isn’t. Milton opens the truck door for me and I climb in. What the fuck just happened? Has my whole life been a lie? My mom didn’t abandon me, but was murdered. Did I have fam
ily out there? Her family that never knew me. Dad said she was a runaway, but now I question everything. Did everyone know she was dead but me? Not only the club, but the whole fucking town? There are no secrets there. Did my grandmother know and hide it from me? I lean down and put my head between my knees, bringing my arms over my head as the cool air Milton’s blasting through the air conditioning pours over me.
“You knew this was gonna happen? All the times you questioned me was for him? He was behind the mirror and you knew and didn’t fucking warn me?”
I don’t ask him if he knows about my mom’s death, because fuck him. I sit up and look at the back of his head in front of me, wanting so badly to hit him or do something to vent this rage burning inside me.
“I’m a cop Maven, he’s a federal agent!”
“Fuck that! My dad saved your aunt from being brutalized, and you lead me into this without any warning-“
He cuts me off, “My father helped your dad so don’t you forget that. That was their shit not ours-“
“Oh wow he withheld evidence, my dad is still gonna rot in prison the rest of his life. My dad killed that son-of-a-bitch for your family, that goes beyond the bullshit you and your fucking father ever did for us.”
My palm slams against the top of the seat, before I grab my iPod and shove the earbuds in, and cranking the volume up. I don’t want to think, or feel, or accept any of this.
Milton drops me off where he picked me up from, hesitating to leave me at the side of the road, before he finally peels out after a long moment. I’m in a daze, a daze getting home, a daze in the shower, nothing seems real or right. There’s no way I can go to work. Now the MC that once felt like family and my most trusted companions, seem like enemies. A group of people who aren’t protecting me, but using me.
I need answers, and of course my stupid dad is still in solitary fucking confinement. Part of me wonders if he’d even tell me the truth about my mom if questioned. The reasons he avoids talking about her, or having pictures of her anywhere, I always thought was anger over her leaving. But what if it’s anger over something else, something that made him so angry he killed her? I feel not like myself, like my whole identity, who I thought I was, is no more.
Checking my cellphone on my bed, I see Dornan’s texted me several times asking if I’m okay and when I’m coming in. Clasping the phone in my hand, I pull down the covers and crawl into bed. Not only does my body feel exhausted from my run, but my mind feels like mush and all I want is to go away for a while. Before I doze off, I text Skye that I’m not coming in. At first I don’t want to message Dornan because I know he’ll come home to check on me, but I don’t want him to think I’m avoiding him.
“Hey babe, headache again, going to lie down, maybe come into work later.”
I silence my phone and throw the covers over my head, sleep finding me fast.
Something’s stroking my cheek, running over my hair and back again, my name being said softly. I inhale sharply with awareness, and breathe in Dornan’s scent, I moan slightly as he presses his lips on my forehead. My head’s killing me, like a nails being hammered into my temple over and over. I raise my hand and press my palm against the side of my head, my eyes barely able to open, they feel puffy and swollen.
“Shh...sorry to wake you up, do you need something to eat or more medicine?” he whispers.
My eyes flutter open and then close, expecting harsh sunlight, but it’s dark. I squint trying to make out the features of my love, he’s kneeling at the side of the bed as he continues to run his fingertips soothingly over me in comfort.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Nine.”
“Fuck,” I moan, I slept the whole day.
All at once, the morning’s events come back. A heavy weight engulfs me, encompassing all of me. Suddenly, Dornan’s touches are painful, my body not wanting him here. He hasn’t done anything, he didn’t kill my mother, he’s not been approached by the Feds and asked to be an informant. Yet, I still feel just tense with him here.
“I brought you water and some pills,” he whispers, pressing his lips to my forehead again.
I slowly sit up, my eyes still struggling to remain open. Which I don’t fight because I think that when I actually look at him, I’m scared of what my reaction will be. He knows me too well, I can’t just lie and say I’m fine, he’ll see right through it. His fingers place my hands around the glass, then there’s something at my lips. I part them as he slips in the headache pills into my mouth, guiding my hands up until the glass is there. I take a long drink before finally looking down at him. He’s studying me, his brows pinched together slightly as his hands resume stroking my hair and face.
“Where were you?” I ask, because something had to have been keeping him from getting to me immediately after receiving my text.
“I went on a run with Joey to meet with The Steel Axes this morning, didn’t you read my messages? I sent them before you said you weren’t feeling well.”
Dornan talks in a calm, soothing way, and all I can do is watch his lips, my eyes not being able to look into his. There’s such a pain of guilt and shame resting inside me, like a brick sitting on my stomach. I want to tell him what happened today, that Justice isn’t a contractor, they have my fingerprints, what Justice wants me to do for them...about my mom. But I can’t, the fact that I know what I’m going to do, fucking kills me, but it’s what needs to be done to end all of this.
“You’ve been sick a lot lately with the headaches, maybe you should see a doctor.”
Dornan leans up and rests his forehead against mine, his hands cupping my face. I feel my lip quiver slightly before I swallow and nod.
“Yeah I will,” I whisper.
I bring my arms up and wrap them around his shoulders, comforting him because I know this is worrying him. When Missy was diagnosed with breast cancer, she had symptoms that she kept playing off and ignoring. When she finally did go to the doctor, the cancer was so advanced she had to have a double mastectomy. I know this, my headaches, that he’s thinking the worst, and by lying earlier makes me feel awful. Although now I really do have a headache. He nuzzles his face into my neck and inhales deeply, his arms wrap around my torso and pull me close.
“What do you need me to do?” he asks.
“Will you put some music on and lay with me?” I request.
After a few beats, his arms leave me and he stands, retrieving my iPod from downstairs while I snuggle back into bed. My heads too foggy with emotion and overloaded with everything, that I don’t want to think anymore tonight, the music and Dornan will help. The opening song to Bob Seger’s -Night Moves album comes over the dock speakers softly, causing me to smile since Dornan knows this is my favorite album. He strips his clothes off and moves into the bathroom, I hear the shower turn on and I picture him naked, wet, and soapy, rubbing his body as the water runs over his skin. My heart cracks a little, I have to stop this. This isn’t going to work, not now and certainly not after knowing what I have to do. But I can’t just push him away, he won’t go and he’ll know there’s something I’m not telling him.
By the time the song “Night Moves” comes on, Dornan’s back in our room, naked. The pale moonlight shines in, highlighting the contours and cuts of his muscles and tan skin. I roll onto my side as the bed dips, as he positions himself behind me. He gently slips the hair-tie from my ponytail and his fingertips begin rubbing my scalp as he sings the words ‘she was a black haired beauty with big dark eyes.’
I bite my lip hard as my eyes slowly glass with tears in remembrance of only a few months ago when Dornan lay here with me and sang those same lyrics. If I only knew then what I know now...would I still decide to be with him? Would it have changed my heart from falling in love with this man? My decision about what I’m going to tell Justice is going to kill me, but I know it will ruin Dornan. He won’t trust me anymore and I’ll crush everything he ever thought about me. I can live with the effect my future will have on me, but I can
’t deal with what it will do to Dornan, and so I can’t think about it now. Instead I lay with my back pressed to his chest, his hands and voice caressing and loving on me, lulling me into a restless sleep.
14
I wake early, sleeping like shit the whole night and decide to head into work before Dornan wakes. He looks so beautiful laying here, totally naked and edible. But rather than waking him up with my mouth on his cock, I kiss his cheek and head out. The normal early birds are already at the shop, Rocket and Chain talking as usual out front as they drink their coffee. Boo-Boo and Smokey are also standing around the punch clock and coffee maker, not really saying much, but both nod hellos to me as I walk past. The stillness of the morning dissipates, when I jump slightly at seeing Sven sitting at my desk. My body tenses, does he already know about Justice and he’s here to confront me? He’s never, ever here this early, fuck. He’s sitting with his back to me, leaving the seat behind my desk unoccupied.
“Hey,” I try to say as casual as possible.
“Sorry to scare you,” he says, turning his head slightly and showing me his profile while raising a hand.
I move around to the side of my desk, dropping my purse into a drawer as Bagheera sits on his doggy bed behind me. Sven seems casual, a leg up with an ankle resting on his other knee, coffee in hand. But his brows are furrowed like his sons do when he too is stressed.
“What’s up?” I ask, sitting down.
I have to mentally assess my features, making sure my face is blank, my fingers aren’t fumbling, or my legs not nervously tapping. Can I be looking at the man who possibly killed, or helped kill my mom? I know two sides of Sven; just like I know the two sides of every other man in this club. The person they are day to day, and the person they are during business. I know Sven’s killed before, and has done so in front of me. A hardened member who knows the game, and has opted to kill numerous people so Dornan, Joey, and even I didn’t have to. Even though I know this side of him, I’ve never seen him kill an innocent person, a woman, definitely not someone he knew and was his best friend’s wife. But people do things sometimes we can never imagine, circumstances and emotions cause reactions from people in moments of chaos. Still, knowing what I know and taking things into account, I just can’t get past all the things he’s done for me, especially in the absence of my dad. Maybe it’s due to guilt from killing my mom, or knowing my mom was killed. I just can’t see a heartless killer past the good man I’ve always considered a second father.
Running with the Devil: Plantain Series Book One Page 17