Truth and Lies (White Wolves MC)

by Amy Love

  "How much are we talking here?" Dave asked, coming in from the back door.

  "Hundreds of thousands sometimes. He didn't bother with anything less than fifty grand, coke or cash," Chelsea told him.

  Elias could see the wheels turning in his men's heads. The same wheels were turning in his own. The man they were up against was connected, well-informed, ruthless, and had large amounts of cash resources. All of this was currently focused on one goal—ending Chelsea's life.

  "Can you prove any of this?" Jeff asked from the front window.

  "I can prove some of it," she replied. "I know names, and places, and stash locations. I know the partners, and some of the dealers who were killed."

  Dave whistled under his breath, echoing everyone else's thoughts regarding just how motivated Tomas might be in getting rid of Chelsea. The general conclusion was—very.

  Jeff looked over at Elias, "We're going to need a new game plan, boss."

  Elias met his eyes and then nodded. "I agree." Then he turned back to Chelsea. "Can you write down this information for me? The names, partners, and victims you mentioned? Stash locations could be good as well if you can do that."

  "Sure, I'll go get my laptop."

  "Chelsea?" Dave asked before she could leave the room. "How much did you take when you left?"

  She looked back at him. "Fifty grand out of the closet."

  "How much was in the closet?" Dave pressed.

  "Eight hundred," she told him, and then continued back into their room.

  "Shit, boss, this guy is a big fish," Dave said.

  "Kind of makes Larry's efforts seem a little foolish," Jeff agreed.

  "No, not foolish," Elias told him. "We never believed that anything would stick or slow him down. The idea was to gather some resources of our own. Attract the attention of the cops, shed some light on the matter, and I believe in that respect we succeeded fairly well. Larry told me last night that he was suspended until his hearing tomorrow. That means Internal Affairs is probably looking at him a lot closer if they weren't already."

  Elias got up and paced the room. "Look at it like this: Houston is a big city, but not so big you can pull shit like this on a regular basis and not attract attention. Someone has noticed him. Someone is already looking into him. What we need to do is find out who that someone is, and help them."

  Dave looked over at him. "You mean, shift Tomas' focus off of Chelsea. Make her obsolete."

  "Exactly," Elias agreed. "If we can get enough dogs on his trail, maybe one of them will take him down."

  "Some of those victims might have friends as well," Jeff offered.

  "That's a good thought too," Elias agreed. "You don't get to that size—not the size that Tomas would be interested in—without having resources of your own. That's very good. Two good fronts to come at him with. I like that."

  "It would be nice to find out that he stepped on some heavy-hitting toes," Dave agreed. "I've got a few connections I can help with discovery on that angle."

  "Larry is working on backgrounding Tomas now. I should give him a call and see where he is at with that, and then I should give John and Wild Bill an update. You guys get back to your posts. Chelsea is probably right, but let's not overestimate this guy. Sometimes simple is better. He might not care about who knows who got to her."

  The five of them nodded and left to get back to their jobs. Elias went to his office and started making calls. After a bit Chelsea came in and sat on his lap, listening to him talk with Larry.

  Once he hung up, she told him, "I'll get this all together for you. Do you think it will really help? I mean, getting a conviction probably won't happen with what I have."

  "We aren't looking for a conviction, baby, just an edge," he told her.

  "Alright, I'll get as much as I can down for you then," she said.

  He gave her a kiss. "Thank you. You've helped us out a great deal today."

  "Did I?"

  "Yes. You really did."

  "Good. Because I don't want you to die, Elias. I love you."

  "I don't plan on dying, baby, and I love you too."

  She smiled and kissed his lips. "I was hoping you would say that."

  Chelsea kissed him deeply this time and then gave him a radiant smile before sliding back out of his lap and skipping out into the living room with a laugh. Elias watched her go over his shoulder, and then picked back up his phone to call John with the update.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Detective Tomas Brick had plenty of experience with the procedures around protective orders. Most of the time they were bullshit. In fact on the first offense of breaking an order, ninety-nine percent of the time in Houston, the judge would tell the violator, "Don't do that again," and that was it. He had no reason to believe that the judge wouldn't do the same with him—except he didn't.

  He hired a lawyer, simply because his lawyer was basically free, being a good coke customer of his, and it was the prudent thing to do when the other side had a lawyer with a hard-on for you. He was glad he did, because Larry Turner, Attorney at Law and member of the White Wolves, certainly did have that hard-on.

  Twenty depositions from witnesses were filed from that day at the restaurant all swearing that Tomas had made the threat that he would violently injure one Elias Neal, licensed protector of Chelsea Shore, and threatened Chelsea Shore as well. Twenty.

  On top of that, somehow that fucking lawyer had two depositions, from his captain and commander, saying that Tomas was not on duty at that time, and had no case involving the Log Cabin or the White Wolves, and in fact no such case involving either was active in anyone's docket. Added to that, the lawyer was able to find out that the gun Tomas was carrying that day was not his service pistol.

  Larry Turner also filed the writs for the order to be reviewed at this hearing for permanent status.

  The judge, who Tomas knew to be lenient with members of the law force, wasn't so lenient with him. He made the protective order permanent for Tomas' lifetime. He then ordered that Tomas was to relinquish all of his firearms, other than his service pistol, and then ordered him five days in jail.

  Son of a fucking bitch!

  "Detective," the judge had said. "I warn you not to test me on this, but if you break this order again, I swear you will be doing five years, not five days."

  Tomas was then escorted from the hearing, straight to county, and given an orange jumpsuit just like he was a regular joe.

  Five days. Five fucking days.

  "What the fuck are you going to do about this?" he asked his lawyer when he came to see him as soon as he was processed.

  "What do you want me to do? It's five days. By the time I can process anything, you will be out," his lawyer told him.

  "Fuck."

  "Look, I'm going to hang around because I just found out that Internal Affairs is on their way down here to talk with you as well."

  "What?"

  "Yeah. So, I'll be around and come in with them if you want."

  "Why the fuck would I want that? You can't even help me with a goddamn restraining order violation." Tomas told him.

  His lawyer looked at him, and then shrugged. "Fine, I'm gone. See you in five days. Have a ball."

  "Wait, what are they after?" Tomas asked.

  "I don't know, but the feeling I got was that it is not the restraining order. They were going to talk with you today or tomorrow anyway."

  Tomas did some quick thinking, but decided he didn't want this particular lawyer in the room with Internal Affairs. Restraining orders were one thing. Internal Affairs was a whole different story, and he didn't trust this asshole with that load of dirty laundry.

  "No, take off," he told him. "I'll call you if it turns out to be something other than the order, and take it from there," he said, more reasonably than he felt. No sense burning bridges while you were standing on them.

  Three hours later, Tomas was called from his cell to meet with James Nelson, the Detective with Internal Affairs; his assistant;
and his captain. This was decidedly a bad thing, but he was happy he got that fuck-head of a lawyer out of here. The man couldn't keep his mouth shut about anything.

  "Detective, I'm going to make this quick and dirty, because we all have other things to be doing right now."

  "Should I have my rep here?"

  "Not required. I'm not going to press any charges or anything like that. All I'm here to do is to tell you that we know you are dirty. We've known for some time. After talking with her lawyer for nearly an hour, we also believe that Ms. Chelsea Shore is going to be a prime witness for us. So, I'm just going to lay it out there: if anything happens to that young woman, if she is hit by a bus, or electrocutes herself, or is run over by a stampede, that you are going to be a prime murder suspect for the duration of a full investigation into the matter, and on suspension during the entire process—which I promise you will be for no less than a year."

  "I thought I didn't need my rep," Tomas said dryly.

  "Oh, you don't. I'm not threatening or filing anything. We're just talking, and I'm being friendly with information," Nelson told him. "Now, I think your captain has something to say, and then we'll get out of here."

  His captain looked him over and then said, "I got a disturbing phone call this morning from this lawyer. Chelsea Shore's doctor and psychiatrist is under the impression that this young girl is suffering from acute PTSD caused by multiple rapes and forced prostitution. Her doctor tells me that she's in no condition at the moment to be interviewed, but that she will be in a month or so. The vagueness of the information I was able to acquire isn't enough to do anything with, but I'm suspending you because of this order violation for thirty days. I'll expect your weapon on my desk, with your badge, the day you are out of here. Is that clear?"

  Tomas couldn't believe this was happening. "I'll see you in five days then," he said, barely controlling the seething rage inside of him.

  The three other men then stood and began to walk out, when his captain turned back around and said, "I've got a daughter that girl's age. She looks like her, too. God help you if I find out even one small part of their story is true detective." Then they left.

  Tomas was taken back to his cell, where he laid down on his bunk, told his cell mate if he wanted to keep is teeth to shut the fuck up, and thought this matter over. He had a ton of resources, a shitload of money, and connections inside and outside of the force, and couldn't do anything with any of them from inside here.

  "So, they have five days of free range. Fine," he told himself calmly. "Five days from now, justice will ride again." And then he rolled over and went to sleep.

  * * *

  Wednesday at ten o'clock, Chelsea rode up to Doc's office with Elias at her side, Tom in front, and Dave behind her. Four other members were riding around somewhere, looking for tails and watching her back. She thought she spotted them a couple of times, but they weren't flying colors, so she couldn't be sure. Jeff was already in the lobby when she walked in. He gave her a nod and a smile, which didn't quite reach his eyes but was somehow warm anyway. Tom waited out in the hallway, and Dave remained with their bikes.

  "I feel weird with all these men around me like this," she whispered to Elias. "Like I'm some sort of rock star or something."

  "Sorry, has to be done, baby," he told her.

  "I know, and I even like them, it's just weird." She shrugged.

  "I'll be out here with Jeff; see you in an hour," he told her, and gave her a kiss.

  Doc gave her a smile when she was shown into the office by the secretary. The secretary asked if she wanted a coke or something else to drink, but Chelsea shook her head and said, "No, thank you."

  "Hi Chelsea, how are you feeling today?" Doc asked as soon as her assistant turned to go.

  "I'm fine. Better. Much better, really. Much less confused," she reported.

  "Before we go any further honey, I want you to know that what we talk about in this room is just between you and me. I'm not going to discuss it with anyone else."

  "Not even Elias?"

  "No, not even Elias. This is your time. You can say anything, or tell me anything you want, and it is safe in here," she told her.

  "Not even John? I know you like him."

  "Yes, I like John. Very much in fact, but no, not even John."

  "Alright," she conceded.

  "Can you tell me what you were confused about?"

  Chelsea shifted a little in the chair. "About Elias. About why he still wanted me to be at his house and in his bedroom," she said softly. "I'm still not certain I'm good for him, but I love him and I don't want to leave. Is that selfish?"

  "Selfish?" Doc asked.

  "I feel selfish. I feel like he deserves much better, and he could get much better if I just left, or moved into the guest room."

  "How does he feel about that?" Doc asked.

  "He wants me to stay in his room," she said, and then corrected herself. "Our room. He says he loves me, and that he needs me. That it is his turn."

  "His turn?"

  "His turn to protect me, since I hurt myself protecting him and the club by coming clean," she explained.

  "You did, you know," Doc told her. "Both things. Your breakdown was bound to happen sooner or later Chelsea, but you did help the club a great deal by telling Elias what you did."

  "That's what Elias says. But you think I would have… um… broke, even if I didn't?"

  "Broke?"

  "I know I'm broken, Doc, I can feel it. Things aren't like they were inside me anymore. I can't think clearly sometimes, I forget things. I get confused about things. So don't tell me I'm not broke, okay?"

  "Alright. I'm not sure I like the term, but really, it is as good as any," she allowed. "So, yes, I do think you would have broken even if you didn't come clean—and probably very soon. A few weeks from now, or maybe a month, but this was bound to happen. It is good that it happened with Elias, because he can help you, and he does care about you a great deal. He told me that night that it was his turn as well."

  "He did?"

  "Yes, he told me that he's not leaving you, and he was going to do whatever it took to see that you got better, no matter how broken you were," Doc replied.

  "Why?"

  "Why what, darling?"

  "Why would he do that? I'm just a…"

  "Just what Chelsea?"

  She looked at her hands, "I'm just a used piece of ass. That's all I am. I'm not even a woman, not a real one. Not anymore. I use to be, but not now."

  "Chelsea, baby, you are not only a woman, and a real one, but a very strong one."

  "I don't feel strong. I couldn't do anything."

  "You left him. You got away."

  "No, not really. He's still out there, and now Elias, and John, and Larry, and even you, are in danger. I have men watching the house all the time now, did you know that? Five of them, all day long. So, I didn't really get away. He's still going to kill me. But know, he might kill Elias as well, and that's not fair. Not over me. Not something like me."

  "Someone Chelsea. Someone."

  Chelsea nodded. "Someone like me," she said weakly, and not convincingly.

  "We're all a lot safer now that you did what you did," Doc offered. "Just because you hurt yourself doing it, doesn't make you less of a person. It doesn't mean that Elias wants you less, or needs you less."

  "But I'm less now," she said.

  "Do you still love him?" Doc asked.

  "Yes, very much."

  "Then you aren't any less, Chelsea, and you are going to get better. I promise you that. That's what we're going to do together, alright? We're going to get you better."

  "Alright. That would be good. But…"

  "But what?"

  "What will I be when I'm better?"

  Doc sat back, and looked her over. "You're going to be Chelsea again."