Midnight Obsession: A Midnight Riders Motorcycle Club Romance Part 4

by Olivia Thorne

  “You guys can go, I’ve got it from here,” the buttoned-up prick said.

  Lead Guy and the other minion shuffled out.

  The voice – it was the gruff man on the phone I’d talked to back in LA.

  “Where’s Eddie?” I asked angrily.

  “That’s a good question,” the prick said. “One we’ll get to shortly. I’m Agent Fordham… and you’re both in a barrel-full of shit.”

  “I brought Jack with me to talk to Eddie,” I said. “The deal was he’d give me what he had on my cousin’s murder if – ”

  “I’m well aware of what the deal was. Are you aware that revealing the identity of an undercover federal agent – especially to one of the suspects under investigation – is a felony that can get you up to 20 years in jail”

  “Jack came with me because he wants to take down Lou Shaw.”

  “I’ll bet he does, after that night at the Roadhouse. I’m sure he thought he could just have us arrest Shaw and Eyeball and a couple of others, we’d go on our merry way, and he could have control of the Midnight Riders again.” Fordham gave Jack a tight smile. “Sorry to burst your bubble, pal, but not gonna happen.”

  Shit.

  This guy knew everything.

  I was panicking, but Jack looked frosty as a block of ice. “What are you going to get me on?”

  “Trafficking and distribution of marijuana. And the weapons charge on your .45.”

  Jack looked the guy dead in the eyes and shook his head. “That’s not what you want.”

  “No?”

  “No, or you would have arrested me years ago.”

  “We didn’t have enough on you until recently.”

  “Bullshit. Fiona said Eddie wanted the entire distribution network.”

  Fordham smiled. “Is this where you promise me the moon, the stars, and Pablo Escobar?”

  “Pablo Escobar’s dead.”

  “I didn’t think you’d know who Ismael Zambada was.”

  “El Mayo? Rumor is his cartel’s behind the Santa Muertes.”

  Fordham cocked his head. He looked surprised – and a little intrigued.

  “Hear me out,” Jack said. “I can give you everything.”

  “You can’t give me anything I don’t already have, Pollari.”

  “I was there when Lou killed that second robber from the Seven Veils. I can testify against him.”

  Fordham chuckled. “You’re gonna testify against another Midnight Rider? Riiiight. I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  Jack shifted uneasily in his chair. I could see his internal conflict playing out on his face – help the DEA, who he hated, or stand by and watch the entire club go down in flames.

  “I’ll do it if there’s no other way,” Jack finally said.

  “Not good enough. Like you said, I want the entire distribution network, not just Lou.”

  Jack squinted, thinking hard. “You’re not after pot… not in a state where it’s about to go legal. You guys saw the writing on the wall years ago – you would have taken us down already if pot was what you wanted.”

  Fordham was silent and just stared back.

  “Two Santa Muertes broke into the Seven Veils about three weeks back,” Jack said, trying another angle.

  “We know,” Fordham yawned. “We also know what happened out in the desert, so don’t even think you’re gonna bargain with that one.”

  “They weren’t Santa Muertes.”

  Fordham frowned. “How do you know that?”

  “I talked to Hector Reyes. I’m sure you know who that is. He didn’t know anything about it.”

  “What were you doing talking to Hector Reyes?”

  “It was a sit-down. Personal courtesy, considering my former position as president.”

  Fordham scratched his chin. “Huh…”

  “That helpful?” Jack asked.

  “Not really, no. We already knew the shooters weren’t in the gang.”

  “How?”

  “Ran the names. Didn’t match any of our intel.”

  “Wait – the first guy I get, he got shot in the club – but how’d you find out the second guy’s name?”

  “We got the body,” Fordham said. “Well… enough to get fingerprints, anyway. I’d tell you to advise Lou that the next time he wants to get rid of a stiff, to use a vat of acid… but you won’t be seeing him again till you’re both in San Quentin. You can tell him then.”

  “Everybody there was an accessory!” Jack said angrily. “With that and the pot, you can put everybody away for ten years at least!”

  Fordham shrugged and gave an assholish smile. “Not enough, Jack. Not by a long shot.”

  I’d been listening the entire time, trying to figure this out.

  Fordham didn’t care about pot…

  He didn’t care about a murder…

  “You’re going for something bigger than the Midnight Riders,” I realized.

  Fordham looked at me like he was sizing me up.

  “What, you want our connections?” Jack asked Fordham. “The pot dispensaries? You could get those off the fuckin’ internet.”

  “No,” I said. “He wants the entire Richards police department.”

  “Not bad for a second-rate PI,” Fordham said.

  I ignored the insult. “Kade and I were kidnapped by three cops the same night Lou pulled his coup.”

  “I need bigger fish than that,” Fordham said.

  Jack clenched his jaw. “I can personally testify that we paid Peters off.”

  Fordham scoffed. “For what? Getting rid of traffic tickets?”

  “Looking the other way on the marijuana.”

  “You keep saying the weed’s no big deal, we would’ve busted you already if we cared about the weed, blah blah blah, and now you want me to give a shit because you paid off some cops to overlook the weed? Not gonna cut it, Pollari.”

  Jack looked at me, and I could see a flicker of unease in his eyes. Then he turned back to Fordham. “What about… paying him to cover up a shooting?”

  “What kind of a shooting?”

  Jack took a long time to answer. When he finally spoke, he didn’t look at me.

  “…the murder of Fiona’s cousin.”

  51

  I felt like I’d just taken a sledgehammer blow to the heart.

  I stared at Jack, my mouth slightly open, my fingers and hands suddenly ice cold – but he wouldn’t look back at me.

  Fordham seemed interested. “So one of your guys killed her?”

  “No.”

  Both Fordham and I frowned.

  “So why pay Peters off, then?” the DEA agent asked. “What the hell were you covering up?”

  “To avoid people thinking we had a hand in it,” Jack said, still not looking at me.

  “Why would they think you had a hand in it?”

  “Because we were at the scene of the crime.”

  “And why was that?”

  “Because we were going there to meet her.”

  I felt sick, like I was going to puke.

  Then I felt enraged. After all his sanctimonious bullshit about me keeping information from him –

  “Who’s ‘we’?” Fordham asked.

  “Me, Kade, and Lou.”

  “Why were you going to meet her?”

  “We thought she was snitching for you.”

  “For the DEA,” Fordham clarified.

  “Yeah.”

  My stomach twisted into knots.

  Jack had never mentioned he’d known any of this.

  “Well, you were right,” Fordham said. “She was.”

  Jack’s eyes got big, like he’d just been punched. Then he bowed his head, like he was tired of this. Like he couldn’t handle any more. That it was killing him bit by bit, piece by piece.

  It was certainly killing me.

  Jack lifted his head and looked at me. “Did you know? About Ali and the DEA?”

  “Yeah,” I said, and I couldn’t keep the hatred I felt for him
out of my voice. “She was snitching for Eddie.”

  “And you didn’t fucking think to tell me?!”

  “You got a LOT of goddamn nerve acting pissed off, considering what you DIDN’T tell ME,” I hissed.

  Jack looked stunned, then turned away again.

  “Uh ohhhh… trouble in paradise,” Fordham chuckled. He was obviously enjoying watching us turn on each other.

  “I didn’t kill her,” Jack said. “Neither did Kade or Lou.”

  “Don’t you think that looks awful suspicious, though?” Fordham said. “The three of you suspected her of being a snitch, and suddenly she winds up dead?”

  “Which is why we paid off Peters. But we didn’t kill her.”

  “So let me get this straight: the night she died, you were going to have a ‘talk’ with her.”

  “Yes.”

  “But somebody else beat you to the ‘talking’ part.”

  “We weren’t going to hurt her,” Jack insisted. “We were just going to find out if we were right… and if she was snitching, we were gonna find out what she’d told you.”

  “Just scare her a little.”

  “…yeah.”

  “So you didn’t kill her, but you thought the DEA would try to pin the murder on you and the club, and that’s why you paid Peters,” Fordham concluded. “So he could slow-walk the investigation, run interference if the Feds got involved. Make sure it wasn’t an issue.”

  “…yes.”

  Jack looked ashamed of himself when he said it. And he still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  I wanted to kill him.

  All those dozens and dozens of phone calls to the Richards police department… all of their stonewalling…

  Nobody ever even tried to solve Ali’s death, and it was Jack’s fucking fault.

  He had PAID them not to try. He had PAID for the cops to ignore me.

  If I had my gun, I swear to God, I would have shot him in the head right then and there.

  “You paid off Peters personally?” Fordham asked.

  “…no. It was always Lou.”

  Fordham smiled facetiously. “You didn’t want to get your hands dirty.”

  Jack stared at the floor but didn’t say anything.

  Of course you didn’t, you hypocritical motherfucker.

  “Well, that does me no good,” Fordham said. “If you can’t personally testify that you handed money to Peters, then I need proof. Receipts, bank statements, something. I can’t build a case on ‘Yeah, my partner said he’d handle it.’”

  I felt absolutely sick over what Jack had said, and I hated him for it – but I couldn’t afford to wallow in that right now. I had to get us out of this first. I could decide what to do about Jack later.

  “We came to help you get Lou and the others,” I said to Fordham. “And Peters, too, now that we know you’re gunning for him. If you arrest us, though, you’re throwing away a valuable asset. We can be of use to you.”

  Fordham stood there with his hands in his pockets, squinting at me. He didn’t seem to be rejecting me entirely out of hand, so I continued talking.

  “Eddie said he wanted me because he wanted somebody deep undercover. Well, you can’t get any deeper undercover than the president of the MC.”

  “Former president,” Fordham said.

  “It doesn’t matter. He’s got access nobody else would ever be able to give you.”

  “If I cut you two loose, what’s to stop you from heading off to Mexico?”

  “I risked my life to solve Ali’s murder. You know everything else, so you must know that Lou put a gun to my head. I’m not going to stop now just because you’re threatening me with jail time. I’m going to finish this.”

  Fordham looked over at Jack. “What about you, hotshot? What assurances do I have that you won’t just run for the hills?”

  Jack took a few seconds to answer. “I knew you might arrest me when we set up the meeting. It was a risk I was willing to take. I’m not about to cut and run now.”

  I looked at the mirror in the wall. “I’ll confess on video right now, as long as I can get it on record that if we deliver Lou and Peters to you, then I…”

  I stopped, then forced myself to rephrase the sentence.

  “…then we walk. Both of us.”

  Jack glanced over at me. He looked like he was feeling guilty as hell.

  Fordham jerked his head at Jack. “After everything you just heard about this piece of shit paying off the cops to not solve your cousin’s murder, you’re gonna still cover for his sorry ass?”

  I stared at Fordham evenly. “You heard me. That’s all I have to say.”

  The DEA agent raised his eyebrows like Whatever you say, kid, it’s your life. Then he turned to Jack and smirked. “What about you, Pollari? You gonna tape a confession for me, too?”

  Jack looked hatefully at the DEA agent. “If it means that you let me, Fiona, and Kade walk once I hand you Lou… yeah. I’ll give you a fuckin’ confession.”

  Fordham stood there thinking. “When was the last time you saw Eddie Deacon?” he finally asked.

  “That night at the Roadhouse when Lou backstabbed me,” Jack said.

  “That’s the last you saw of him?”

  “I haven’t been anywhere near the Riders, the Seven Veils, or the Roadhouse since.”

  “What about you?” Fordham asked me. “When did you last see him?”

  “The day after the Roadhouse. He met me at the boulders, gave me back my album with all the photos of my cousin, and then I never talked to him again. Why – what happened?”

  Fordham took a long time to answer. “We’re going to videotape those confessions, just like you said. I’ll testify on camera at the same time that if you aid in our investigation, I’ll let you both walk.”

  “And Kade,” Jack added.

  “We’ll see about Kade.”

  “Without Kade, there’s no deal.”

  “You’re in no position to be bargaining,” Fordham snapped.

  Jack answered calmly, “Sounds to me like Eddie’s gone missing. And if Lou was behind it, then he’s probably dead.”

  I winced. That was what I’d been worried about from the very beginning, since the Lead Guy at the boulders had refused to answer our questions.

  I fucking hated Eddie for taking advantage of me and blackmailing me into snitching for him – but at the end of the day, he was a lawman doing his job. Lou was a sociopathic criminal. I wanted Lou dead, but not Eddie.

  Jack stared at Fordham. “If I find out what happened to Eddie, and save him if he’s still alive… or, if he’s not, I give you proof of Lou’s involvement… then Kade walks.”

  Fordham smiled grimly. “You give me my agent back, or you hand me that son of a bitch’s head on a plate, you got yourself a deal.”

  53

  We gave our videotaped confessions: me, that I’d outed an undercover agent, and Jack, that he’d been part of a massive marijuana trafficking operation. We also got our on-camera assurances from Fordham. But apparently they didn’t trust us with the location of their super-secret Fortress of Solitude, because they put the bags over our heads again, shoved us back in the van, and drove us 30 minutes away.

  When they pulled off the hoods, we were on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere. The two guys who had held assault rifles on us were there, too. One was getting out of my car, and the other stepping off of Jack’s bike.

  “Sweet ride, dude,” the guy leered.

  Jack just gritted his teeth and kept silent. He also didn’t look at me.

  The Lead Guy, who’d driven us there in the van, said, “If you need to get in contact, do it the same way.”

  Then he and the others piled into the van and took off, leaving us standing there in dead silence.

  53

  Jack tried to talk first. “Fiona – ”

  “You fucking son of a bitch,” I interrupted with barely controlled rage. “You lying, motherfucking piece of shit!”

  “None
of us had anything to do with her death!” he snapped.

  The fact that he was barking at me in anger instead of begging for forgiveness enraged me even more.

  “You fucking paid off the cops! All that bullshit about how you’d taken the club legit, how things had changed – you fucking crucified me for what I did to you, but you never once mentioned how you’d fucked ME over!”

  “I didn’t even find out you were her cousin until that night in the Roadhouse! You lied to me first – ”

  “I lied to YOU?!”

  “When was I supposed to tell you, huh?! Our first date? Out there in the parking lot at the Roadhouse? When, Fiona?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, how about when I told you about the DEA? Maybe you could’ve mentioned it then instead of saying shit like, ‘After all you’ve done to me, and you’re going to bust my balls over pot.’”

  Now the guilt was finally hitting him. I could see it on his face as he looked away from me.

  But I was just getting started.

  “I was trying to solve her murder, and you fucking paid off the cops to make sure no one ever found out who killed her!”

  He shook his head violently. “No – NO – only to make sure we were kept out of it – ”

  “Because your precious little club was more important than an innocent woman’s life!”

  “She wasn’t some innocent angel!” Jack roared. “She was a fucking drug addict and a snitch for the DEA!”

  “Well,” I said coldly, “you’re a snitch now, too, so I guess you have something in common.”

  He looked at me like he wanted to kill me.

  What he did next was almost as bad.

  “She was high the last two months of her life, Fiona!” he shouted. “She quit dancing for Lou, so God knows where she got the money. Blowjobs for twenty bucks apiece? Selling her ass on the street? We didn’t know. We figured that’s why she was snitching – for the money. She probably owed her coke dealer, wasn’t able to pay him, and he killed her! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  Silent tears ran down my cheeks. To hear Ali described that way – the ugly, awful viciousness of what he was saying, smearing her like that –