Midnight Obsession: A Midnight Riders Motorcycle Club Romance Part 4

by Olivia Thorne

  But not all of it was said in anger. His last few words were filled with a kind of desperation – like Why are you making me do this?

  He shouldn’t have said it. After all the motherfucker had done, he should have had the decency not to say those things.

  But the most awful part of it was, he was probably telling the truth.

  I broke down crying.

  “Fiona,” he said gently, walking towards me –

  “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” I screamed.

  He stopped and just looked at me, his face filled with pain.

  “You know what’s fucking hilarious?” I seethed, tears still streaming down my face. “You were so goddamn furious that I came here and tried to solve her murder, and didn’t tell you any of it… but YOU paid off the fucking cops so they didn’t do their job, which is why I had to come here in the first place. So all of the shit that’s been raining down on your head, every single thing you blamed me for? It’s your own fucking fault, you hypocritical son of a bitch.”

  He just stood there looking at me.

  “…maybe you’re right,” he said quietly.

  “Of course I’m right, you fucking asshole!”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” I sneered. “For destroying my life? For fucking me last night when you knew? I never would have touched you if I’d known what you did. Never.”

  I’d hurt him. I could tell by the way his face twitched.

  “I should have told you,” he said, his voice weary.

  “And you didn’t because you’re a fucking coward.”

  He looked at me for a moment… and then he nodded his head slowly. “You’re right.”

  “And you fucking blamed – blamed me – for – for – ”

  I couldn’t speak because of my sobbing.

  He reached out for me again, but I jerked away. “Don’t TOUCH me!”

  He just stood there stone-faced and silent while I cried.

  It took a long time for my tears to finally end.

  When I had quieted down, he asked quietly, “So what do we do now?”

  “I’m here to find out who killed my cousin,” I said, my voice filled with hate. “You want to help, fine. But after that, you and I are never speaking again.”

  He looked off at the horizon… paused… and then nodded, resigned.

  “…okay.”

  We went back to our vehicles without saying a word, cranked the engines, and headed home.

  54

  Jack

  This entire plan had gone to shit, and it was my fault. All of it.

  Part of me didn’t want to admit it. Part of me wanted to rant and rail – But SHE betrayed me! But SHE lied to ME! But SHE made ME lose EVERYTHING!

  No matter what, though, I kept coming back to the very beginning – the part where I’d lied to her by omission. I’d kept my mouth shut about what I’d done.

  And it had been a shitty, cowardly thing to do.

  All the guilt I’d felt this morning, after I slept with her… it was because I couldn’t face the fact that I was lying to her about her cousin. About what I’d done.

  Like she said, I knew she never would have touched me if she knew. So I just kept my mouth shut. Pushed it down. Tried to pretend like it had never happened.

  A year ago, though, it had seemed like a no-win situation. We had no idea who’d killed Ali. If our suspicions were right about her snitching, then it was entirely reasonable to assume the DEA would peg us for the murder and frame the club for her death. We figured paying off Peters was the best way to obstruct the whole thing.

  The DEA couldn’t insert themselves into the case without admitting they were investigating us – and they didn’t. They never once contacted Peters about the murder investigation.

  Because of that, we all concluded we’d been wrong – that Ali hadn’t been snitching.

  Except she had.

  It hadn’t been my fault that Peters was incompetent. It hadn’t been my fault that he’d taken ‘don’t look too hard at the club’ to mean ‘don’t solve the murder.’

  Except… what if it had been a Midnight Rider who’d killed her?

  What if Peters had covered up the truth: that one of our own had done it?

  Jesus.

  I’d believed Lou at the time. His theory about Ali’s coke dealer killing her seemed reasonable enough.

  Lou obviously didn’t kill her – or at least he didn’t pull the trigger – because he was with me before it happened.

  But what if he’d orchestrated the whole thing? What if he’d told the dealer he wanted her dead?

  And I’d played right into his hands by agreeing to pay off the cops.

  Fuck.

  I felt like shit.

  I’d been angry at Fiona for everything she’d done because I couldn’t face what I’d done. It was easier to blame her than it was to look in the goddamn mirror.

  I’d made a mistake in sleeping with her last night, but it wasn’t because she’d fucked me over and I couldn’t keep my emotions out of it.

  No… the mistake was, I’d fucked her over, and I’d never told her, and I slept with her anyway.

  But the final conclusion I’d come to had been the right one: I had to make this right. I had to pay for what I’d done. We had to get through this. Fight through it to the other side.

  I swore to myself that I’d do whatever it took to make sure Fiona found out who killed her cousin, so she could bring the real killer to justice.

  After that happened, I’d take whatever consequences came my way.

  And this time, I’d take them like a man.

  55

  Fiona

  The DEA had dumped us out in the middle of nowhere, so I had to use my phone’s GPS to get us back.

  Halfway home, Sid called.

  “Uhhhh, everything alright?” he asked.

  “We’re good,” I said, even though I knew I sounded stuffed-up from crying.

  “You, uh, got any new friends there with you?”

  “Ha. NO.”

  I told him about the meeting with Fordham, though I left out the part about Jack paying off the cops. I just… I couldn’t get into it right now.

  “Hey, you pulled it off,” Sid said admiringly. “Nice job, kid.”

  “Thanks.”

  “If I’d’a had to put money on it, I wouldn’t’a bet on you.”

  “Thanks,” I repeated, my tone decidedly less cheerful this time around.

  “Anyway, we need to talk.”

  Sid told me he was at a rest area off of exit 39. After we hung up, I plugged it into the GPS. Turns out it was only three miles away.

  I pulled off the highway and drove slowly into the rest area, looking for the picnic area Sid had mentioned. There were plenty of tourists stopping off to use the restrooms.

  Beneath the shade of a palm tree, an old guy in a golf shirt sat by himself on a concrete bench.

  I parked my car. Jack roared in next to me.

  “What’s going on?” he asked as he cut his engine.

  “We’re meeting Sid,” I said tersely, not wanting to talk to Jack any more than necessary.

  We walked over in silence and sat across from my boss.

  The first thing he said was, “You look awful pissy for two people who got laid last night. What, are you both bad in the sack?”

  Jack looked at me in shock, like What the fuck are you talking to him about THAT for?

  “I didn’t tell him,” I said defensively.

  “You didn’t have to, I’m a goddamn detective,” Sid said. “And even if I wasn’t, I ain’t stupid.”

  “Why are we here?” Jack asked impatiently.

  “While you two were bonin’, I was workin’. Guess you could say I got lucky, too – just not with a broad. No, that sounds gay. Never mind.”

  “Cut to the chase, Sid,” I snapped.

  “Jesus. Maybe you oughta invest in a vibrator if he’s not gettin’ the job done.”

&nbs
p; “SID – ”

  “Alright, alright. Lou’s got a meth operation goin’.”

  I glanced at Jack. He looked stunned, so I knew it wasn’t a put-on.

  “What?! You’re sure?!”

  “Ninety-nine percent. Got all the signs – old ranch out in the middle a’ nowhere. Big-ass barn that’s about to fall down, but it’s got a couple of brand-new ventilation shafts comin’ out of the roof, and some shiny steel tanks out back. Unless they got a helluva lotta fartin’ cows in there, I figure it’s meth.”

  “How the fuck did he put that together in two weeks?” Jack fumed.

  “I don’t think this was a two-week job, Junior. Looked to me like it’s been set up for a while.”

  “Shit,” Jack muttered.

  He was probably feeling sick and infuriated as he realized how Lou had been playing him for months.

  Good.

  Fucker.

  “How’d you find out?” I asked Sid.

  “Trailed everybody’s favorite strip-club owner to the place last night. Buncha ugly fuckers went along with him. I cut the lights and took some photos.”

  Sid pulled out an iPad. On the screen were shots in different shades of green: night vision. There was Lou, clear as day but green as grass. He was talking to some young, nerdy guy dressed in a Hazmat suit.

  “You recognize the kid?” Sid asked.

  Jack swiped through the photos one by one. “No… never seen him before in my life. But that’s Eyeball, Wild Bill, and Cowboy.”

  “What’s with you bikers and the dumbass names, huh?” Sid asked.

  Jack just glared at him.

  “I’m serious,” Sid continued. “You got a regular name. So does Lou. Why do all your other fuckups got names like Avocado Head and Beaver Ass?”

  “Now’s really not the time for the comedy act, Lou,” I said.

  “What the fuck is with you two?” Sid asked in exasperation.

  I gave him a grim, totally insincere smile. “I just found out that Jack paid the Richards police department not to solve Ali’s murder.”

  “Jesus Christ, it wasn’t like that,” Jack protested.

  “What was it like, huh?” I snarled, turning on him. “You wanna explain exactly how the fuck it actually was?”

  “Hey, you two wanna hold it down?” Sid asked. “You wanna play Jerry Springer show, take it indoors. Not out here with the civilians.”

  “Did you not hear what I just said?!”

  “I heard, I heard,” Sid said.

  “…and?!”

  “And it sounds like he’s not gettin’ any tonight.”

  My mouth dropped open in shock – until the anger took over. “You fucking asshole – ”

  Sid turned to Jack. “Did you kill her cousin?”

  “No,” Jack said vehemently.

  “Did you hire somebody else to kill her?”

  “NO.”

  “Do you know who killed her?”

  “No.”

  “So why’d you pay off the cops?”

  I broke into the conversation. “Because she was working for the DEA, and Jack was afraid he was going to get framed for the murder, so he paid the cops to make it go away.”

  “That true, Easy Rider?”

  “It’s a little less black and white than that – ”

  “FUCK YOU,” I hissed loudly under my breath.

  Jack sighed. “…but… yeah. That’s basically it.”

  Sid shrugged and looked at me. “Okay, that’s pretty goddamn bad, but what’d you expect? You knew he was a scumbag when you jumped into bed with him.”

  It took me a second to process the outrageousness of that statement.

  “…what?!”

  “He’s a fuckin’ biker gang asshole. What’d you think, he was a boy scout before you met him?” Sid flung out an arm at Jack. “Look at him! All those tattoos! Jesus, he’s got ‘scumbag’ written all over him.”

  “You have tattoos, Sid,” I seethed.

  “I got one tattoo, kid, and it’s the right kind of tattoo,” Sid said, flexing the arm with his SEMPER FI ink.

  Jack stared at Sid and shook his head. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

  “The asshole you’re payin’ Friend Prices for, bud, and don’t you forget it. Now – since I’m sensing you two don’t wanna dick around anymore – literally – ”

  “SID – ”

  “ – you wanna see if this new info’ll get the DEA off your jocks, or what?”

  I looked at Jack.

  He shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

  56

  We all piled into my car for the air conditioning and some privacy, and I dialed the fake doctor’s office number. Two minutes later, Fordham called back.

  “You better not be calling me from Mexico right now.”

  “Far from it,” I said. “What would you say if we could give you a meth lab that Lou’s running?”

  “I’d say, why the hell didn’t you bring this up an hour ago?”

  “We just found out,” I said, and winced – because I knew what was coming next.

  “Well, THEN I’d say, ‘My, my, haven’t you been industrious. Out of my sight for only 30 minutes, and you already found yourself a meth lab.’ And then I’d probably call bullshit on the whole thing.’”

  I sighed. “I have somebody else working with us on this.”

  “You don’t say. Maybe your boss from LA?”

  “No.”

  “You know that lying to a federal agent is a crime, right?”

  “Then no comment,” I said.

  “Did you tell him everything?”

  “No comment.”

  “Jesus, Christenson, you sure do love racking up the jail time. The whole thing about not exposing an undercover agent? It’s a LAW, not a suggestion.”

  “The meth lab – is that enough or not?”

  “No. We already know about that.”

  “You do?!”

  “I TOLD you people you don’t have shit to tell me that I don’t already know. Is Pollari there?”

  “Yes,” Jack grumped.

  “You’re a little late to the party, my friend. Lou’s been running that shit for close to a year.”

  “Told ya,” Sid said from the backseat.

  “Who was that, your boss?”

  “I’m taking the fifth on that one, too,” I said as I glared at Sid in the backseat.

  “Mr. Abrams, I’d bail out of this if I were you. You’re chaining your boat to two losers who are in over their heads.”

  “Eh. It’s a living,” Sid said.

  “Suit yourself. Look, I need the whole thing, guys. The police, the drugs, the buyers, EVERYTHING.”

  “The buyers…?” Jack asked hesitantly.

  “You people,” Fordham said in exasperation. “We know the Santa Muertes didn’t do the robbery at the Seven Veils that night, but what if they supplied the jackets?”

  Jack looked shocked. “You think Lou’s in business with the Santa Muertes?!”

  “It’s a reasonable fucking assumption.”

  “But Hector said he didn’t know about the robbers or the jackets.”

  “‘Hector said, Hector said,’” Fordham whined mockingly. “Here’s a hint, Pollari: Reyes is a fuckin’ scumbag. Maybe you need to not take fuckin’ scumbags at their word so often.”

  “Amen,” Sid piped up.

  “Look, it’s not what he said,” Jack argued (after a pissed-off glance at Sid), “it’s how he said it. I’ve got a good radar for when people are lying to me.”

  Sid cleared his throat as he looked at me. “Maybe not so much.”

  I shot him an eyeful of daggers. Shut UP.

  The whole thing just pissed Jack off more.

  Get in line, asshole, I thought.

  “Ask yourself something else,” Fordham said. “The Santa Muertes have the biggest distribution network this side of the Mississippi. Who else is Lou going to offload all that meth to, huh?”

  “He’s not
selling it himself?” I asked, surprised.

  “Pollari – you got any intel on a bunch of meth hitting the streets in Richards?”

  “No,” Jack admitted.

  “Neither do we. So yeah, he’s probably offloading it somewhere else.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us all this an hour ago?” I demanded.

  “Because my job is not to give you information I already have. YOUR job is to give ME information I DON’T have, which I can then use to put these fuckers away for a couple of thousand years. So go out and fucking get it.”

  “By any means necessary?” Sid asked.

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that question.”

  “Is this one of those ‘ask forgiveness, not permission’ kinda things, or one of those ‘plausible deniability’ kinda things?” Sid persisted.

  “What do YOU think?”

  “Both.”

  “I like your boss, Christenson. His head’s not as far up his ass as the two of you. Let’s just say don’t do anything you’d have to bribe a police chief to get out of, since HOPEFULLY that won’t be an option anymore.”

  My anger flared at Fordham for using Ali’s murder and Jack’s betrayal so cavalierly, but I bit my tongue.

  “Don’t call me again unless you’ve got cold, hard proof. Or unless you get a line on Eddie,” Fordham said, then hung up the phone.

  57

  We sat in the car after the call with Fordham, stunned.

  Well, Jack and I did. Sid didn’t seem to have the same problem.

  “Whatta dick,” he grumbled. “I kinda like him.”

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  “We go over there and take down the meth lab guy,” Jack said.

  “And do what?” Sid asked.

  “Get him to talk,” Jack growled.

  “Didn’t you hear what the D E Asshole said?” Sid asked. “They want the whole shebang – police, drugs, Santa Clauses, or whatever the hell you call ‘em. You go grab that kid, he ain’t gonna talk. He’ll claim it was him and not Lou cuz he wants to get protected in the klink, not be the whole prison’s buttboy every time he drops the soap.”