“Of course.” Tom crossed to his desk and slid out the top drawer, pulling out a thin, silver laptop. He powered it on. “The password is chicago1903, no caps or spaces.”
“What’s Chicago 1903?”
“That’s when Arthur Harley and William Davidson built their first motorcycle in a garage. Chicago was where they first found a dealer for their machines.”
“When things slow down, you’ll have to teach me more.”
“Anything you want.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’ll come find you when I’m done, but I’m not leaving the clubhouse. Don’t worry.”
“I won’t.” Contrary to what she assumed, she felt safe there.
Tom opened the door and stepped into the hall, then turned back to her. “Grace, I…” He took a deep breath. “I love you.”
“I know.” She smiled. “Take your time with Jack. I’m in no rush.”
He nodded and left the room.
Settling into his desk chair, Grace logged into her work account and gained access to case files. Deciding to start at the beginning, she moved back to the first abduction they’d tagged as part of the trafficking ring that was currently threatening their city. There were no witness reports on that one—just a report that a woman was missing. She’d been found dead a year later in a foreign city.
Taking a sip of the coffee that was just warm enough to be worth it, she stretched. It was going to be a long morning.
So many missing women and too many of those dead, Grace thought as she combed through the files. An hour passed and she felt like she was making absolutely no headway. When she arrived at the paperwork from the night two dozen women were rescued from a house in Detroit, she smiled. At least that one had a happy ending.
She scanned through the paperwork—witness statements, debriefs, crime scene reports—and arrived at the medical admission forms for the woman who’d been rescued from the traffickers.
Carly—but the paperwork was signed by a woman named Anna.
What the fuck?
She took a sip of her cold coffee stared at the cursor blinking on the documents. “Carly. Anna.” She said it quietly, the words whispering away from her in the darkened room. “What the fuck?” She’d met them last night—there was no way it could be a coincidence, though she hadn’t gotten their last names.
But that didn’t mean that Tom knew anything. Jack, though—he might be an untapped resource.
The feeling that she’d heard their names before ate at her, though—that she was missing something. Her head propped in her hands, Grace let her mind churn as she tried desperately to pinpoint what was tickling her brain.
Then she remembered sitting next to Tom the first night he’d made love to her. The night she realized that she was hopelessly in love him.
“That’s the thing that outsiders don’t understand—the club is family. We’re a unit. When one of the guys marries, the woman is part of the family, too.”
“But not part of the club.”
“No. We don’t have any female members. But they’re protected and we treat them with respect. My brother Jack married Anna a few months ago, and she’s around all the time now.”
“Is that hard to get used to?”
“Nah. Lots of women going in and out anyway. We have parties and girls pour in like beer from a keg. But she matters to him, so she matters to us. It’s that kind of family. Even her friend Carly lives on the property now.”
“Her friend counts as family too?”
“We took her out of a bad situation.”
Her face fell, remembering the words.
A bad situation.
A bad situation
No.
She was kidding herself. There was no way Tom didn’t know, even if he wasn’t one of the men in the house that night. If Anna and Jack were involved, so was Tom. He knew about the trafficking ring before he ever met her, and still pretended ignorance every time they’d discussed it for weeks. Every night she’d turned her back to him in a dimly lit slum, trusting that he would protect her.
Tom lied to her.
Tom withheld information while she trusted him. Gave him everything, even though she knew better than to share details of a case with someone who wasn’t on the force.
Pushing back her chair with a loud screech, she logged off the system and cleared her browser. More files with more useless information no longer held any allure for her. Rage was a hot fist gripping her throat and the target had promised he wouldn’t leave the clubhouse.
CHAPTER 23
Tom sat at the round table in the meeting room, putting up a hand to stop Jack from speaking. “My point is, we have to find a new route. I’ve done everything Ace asked and more. I’ve deceived the only woman I’ve ever loved and I’ll keep doing it, too, Jack. I’ll do whatever it takes. But don’t sit there and say I’m not doing enough.”
“Don’t pretend like you’re here selflessly to stop what’s happening in Detroit. Maybe I’m in it for revenge for Max and for Carly. Maybe. But I’m working toward a larger goal. You’ve spent the past year on your own path, so don’t act like you’ve been in it with us from the beginning. You’re not in charge here.”
“I don’t give a fuck. I’m not asking her to put herself on the line.” Tom slammed his fist down on the table hard enough that it rattled.
“If we’re going to find Butch and put this human trafficking ring on ice, we need more. We know he’s going to come after her again—it’s not even a question at this point. We just have to have her at a place where she’s expected.” Jack’s eyes were narrowed, pissed that Tom was giving him shit over a choice that should be obvious. But no one ever asked him to put his wife on the line.
“I didn’t bring her here for this.”
“No. You brought her here for information, Thomas.” Ace said, his lips pressed tight. “I’m telling you straight you have to at least ask her. I didn’t send you back out to her so you could get laid. I sent you so you could pump information out of her.”
“I can’t risk her. I love her,” Tom said, quiet. “That’s why I brought her here last night.”
All three stopped when Grace cleared her throat and turned to see fire in her eyes. “Everyone out,” she said. Though Ace had a good foot on her, he cringed.
“Let us have the room,” Tom said to the men, who had the good sense to walk away immediately and mumbled an apology to Grace.
_____
When the door closed behind her, she soared across the room to stand in front of Tom. Hating herself for the weakness even as her hand flew out, she slapped him hard across the face. "You fucked me. You fucked me and let me believe you forgave me, but you were just using me."
Grace’s insides locked tight and her stomach went sour. Everything—she’d been ready to give him everything, even with the nagging doubts that never fully disappeared.
"You were using me," he said, but his words lacked conviction. “In the beginning, at least. It’s not like you let me come with you for my health.” He looked away, unable to meet her eyes, but she held fast, waiting to speak until he faced her again. Tom clenched his jaw and when he finally locked eyes with hers, she stared at him, unblinking.
"I was working a fucking case and you got in my way. And stupid me, I liked you. I wanted to see you. It was wrong and I admit that, but I never used you." She pressed her hands hard to her face, warding off the heading starting to pound at her temples. “That’s just an excuse you’re using for what you’ve done instead of owning your actions like a man.”
"Grace..."
"Fuck off," she said, whirling around and stalking away from him. "Just fuck off and don't talk to me. I'm leaving here today and you'll never have to see me again."
“I’m not letting that happen.”
“You don’t get to make that choice. I’m not some silly little girl, Tom. I’m a fucking police officer. You withheld information from me that could have helped me make an arrest. You know Carly. You know Anna. And to
day, I read the case files from the day Carly was admitted to the hospital. You were there, weren’t you? At the house with the women?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice tight. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I was outside, and then I stayed until the police arrived to take the women for medical attention.”
“Why were you there?”
“Anna had been taken and we found her, then Carly and the others.”
“What happened?”
“You’d have to ask Ace or Jack. They were inside. I saw…a man I’ve been looking for…outside and followed him. Almost tore up my bike, but he got away from me.” His words dripped with bitterness.
“Who’s the man, Tom?” Here was the root of all the things he hid from her. It was obvious in the sun-drenched room, like she was seeing the truth for the first time. This man—the man he’d chased after—was the difference between the Tom he’d been and the man he was. Not the changes at the club or the death of his father. The life he’d described for her of a happy, laughing Tom with a good sense of humor and the drive to succeed had vanished in the face of whatever this man had done to him.
She took a deep breath, pushed back the rage. “Who is the man, Tom?”
“Butch Hawthorne. William Hawthorne.” The words came out strangled. “The man who killed my father.”
“Who is he?”
“He led our drug trades before we stopped them altogether. Almost three years ago, he suggested moving the club into human trafficking and my father lost his shit on him. Not long after, Dad and many of the others were dead.”
“Butch killed them?”
“Yes. Butch and others pieces of shit who we’ve already taken care of.”
She let the confession go, didn’t know what else to do. “We’ve investigated that massacre,” she said. “I read the case files after I met you. There was no evidence of who orchestrated it.”
“Not for the fucking police,” he bit out. “But we knew. We’ve always known and Butch has fucking gloated about it since then. But the city is large and he’s cautious enough to know I’m coming for him. Or one of my brothers. He’s in hiding and I’m going to smoke that fucking rat out no matter what it takes.”
“No matter what…”
“I’d give anything to put a bullet in his head,” Tom said, finally looking her dead in the eye. “Anything.”
“I’m a cop, god damn it.” She whirled and stalked to the window, looking out at the woods beyond the club. “A fucking cop and you’re confessing intent to murder. What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Whatever you have to. I love you, Grace, but I won’t stop what needs to be done because of it. Butch has to die.”
“What for, though, Tom? Why are you going to kill him? Because he’s fucking kidnapped and murdered a dozen women? Because he’s running the ring that’s selling vulnerable women overseas and subjecting them to a life of fucking torment?” Her voice broke on the last word. “Or is it only because he killed your father? Which is it?”
He could have lied, but didn’t. “My father.”
“You could have given me his name weeks ago. It would have opened up other avenues that I could have used to locate him. I could have found him. You put my friend in danger. A man tried to kill me. I could have prevented it all if you’d just given me his name.”
“I. Couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s mine. I can’t watch him go through a sham trial and damn the club with old truths and new lies. Won’t watch him get off on a technicality or escape into the night on the backs of your fucking crooked colleagues. I’m going to end him.”
“I can’t live with that. It’s one thing to kill a man who’s trying to kill you or someone else—but you can’t just take someone’s life in cold blood.”
“I can and I will.”
“Then I’m leaving. I don’t know what else to do.”
“You can’t get off the property without me,” he said, “and I won’t let you go today. Butch is devious.”
“You can’t hold me against my will.”
“Are you really going to put your life at risk for the sake of your pride?”
Grace opened and closed her mouth, then shook her head. “You’re right. It’s not safe out there.”
“Especially when some of the people you work with are probably already trying to sell you out.”
“Maybe,” Grace said. “Maybe they are. I guess betrayal isn’t exactly hard to come by these days.” She backed away from him and headed for the door. “Now that I have a name, there are a few things I can do to try to root the man out. Is there another room I can stay in?”
“Stay in mine. I’ll give you space.”
She nodded and walked out, letting the chill in his words wrap around her until it felt like there was an icy wall between her and the screams building just behind her teeth.
_____
“What happened?” Ace asked, walking back into the room where Tom stood by the window, wondering if it was worth putting his fist through it. The sunny day and fall foliage were too bright, too cheery after Grace turned away from him with disgust on her face.
“She knows.” He deliberately took steps away from the wall and sat in one of the leather chairs that lined the expansive table.
“How?”
“I don’t know.” Tom shook his head. “I didn’t even ask.”
“You have a responsibility—.” Ace stopped when Tom jerked out of the chair.
“I know I have a fucking responsibility. Why do you think I’ve been lying to her this entire time? I could have told her the damn truth.”
“And you’d never have gotten close to Butch.” Ace walked across the room and faced Tom, barely a foot apart. “We want you back, Tom. That’s not going to happen unless you’re the one that kills that fucker.”
“I…” Tom looked down at his hands. God, he wanted a drink—but even more he wanted to mount the stairs, walk into his own god damn bedroom and fuck Grace until she was purring and wrapped around him like a quilt, none of that liquid hate bubbling in her eyes.
“Sometimes a man has to do something distasteful to do what needs to be done.” Ace gestured to the chair Tom vacated, waited for him to sit, then sat next to him. “Right now, you need to convince her that going back into Ladies Night and waiting to get attacked is what needs to be done. We’ll take the attacker with no problems and interrogate him.”
“He could be another low level piece of shit who knows nothing.”
“Not anymore,” Ace said with a wicked grin. “Now they know she’s lethal—and I wouldn’t be surprised if Butch had eyes on the situation and saw you and Jack run in after she shot that shit. He won’t send a boy to do a man’s job. He’ll send Clutch.”
“Clutch…” Butch’s second-in-command. A man that Max could never find a real reason to throw out and Tom could never warm to.
He remembered driving down to Texas to sell a fuck ton of guns when he was just 19. His first big deal and all the big time club members were around him on the ride. He felt like a man—like he was following in Max’s footsteps.
But when the deal went sideways—not all the way, just enough so that they had seconds of tension—Clutch put his steel toed boot through the face of one of the men on the other side.
An asset, Max had said. Someone who will do what needs to be done without breaking. But his lips curled when he spoke and Tom never saw his father seek out Clutch’s opinion at church.
Butch offered Cluch better a better scope for his talents.
“He’ll kill her.” He was an accurate shot and built like a bull. He’s seen him rip a man’s tongue out of his mouth.
“We won’t let him. This is what has to be done.” When Tom opened his mouth to argue, Ace held up a hand and shook his head. He reminded Tom of his father, then, more than ever. “If you talk to her, I think Grace will even agree.”
_____
“Yes,” she said, rising from the bed wh
ere she’d been pouring over files on Tom’s laptop.
Sorrow curled in his belly as he looked at her. The warm glow was dampened by whatever regret she was feeling for letting him in her bed the night before.
“You could get hurt,” he warned, and a sick ball of fear rose hot in his stomach. “We’ll be there to protect you, but there’s no guarantee...”
“It’s time,” Grace said simply, rising from the bed and placing the laptop on the desk. The sun shone in where she’d raised the blinds and lit her long, silky black hair with a sheen that made his hands ache to stroke it, to hold her. “But whether we find something or not, I’m done hiding at the clubhouse.”
He heard the unspoken statement that she was done with him, but said nothing. He was in love with her—and he’d still betrayed her. No matter how he framed it, Grace’s duty was to say nothing—and when they’d met, he hadn’t loved her.
He did now. It wasn’t enough.
Regret wasn’t enough, either. He couldn’t turn back time. Tom knew he wouldn’t just walk away—but right now he needed her. Her body. Her to be bait when all he wanted to do was protect her.
“You won’t be safe at home.”
“That’s not your decision.” She reached for her bag, pulled out a band and wrapped her hair up in a bun. The motion only made the slender lines of her neck more evident and Tom remembered running his lips down the planes of her throat when they were in his bed.
“Grace…”
“There’s nothing you can say. I was in love with you, and you were just using me.” She shook her head. “If you’d been honest, maybe we could have worked together. You think I don’t know the station is littered with filth? There’s a reason why Chief has me working this leg of the investigation alone—and I’m not the only leg. You could have talked to me. You could have done anything else.”
STRIKE: Storm Runners Motorcycle Club 2 (SRMC) Page 18