Edge of Darkness

by Barker, Freya

  My father’s best friend—the man I’d called Uncle Charlie and considered family for most of my life—told me if I didn’t suck him off, my career would be over. I still shiver remembering the look on his face as he palmed his erection.

  I’d worked so hard to become a good cop, despite the lack of support from my family. I’d studied hard for my detective’s exam and passed with flying colors. I’d kept my head low, trying hard to toe the line, but in that moment I was done.

  I should’ve anticipated what happened after I launched an official complaint of sexual harassment against him, but it still came as a blow. Colleagues I’d considered my friends backed away from me, but also my own family. My dad tried to convince me to drop it, that it was all a figment of my imagination. When I wouldn’t budge, he made it clear he wouldn’t hesitate to use my drinking against me.

  I was shocked. I didn’t think he knew, living under the illusion that so long as I only drank at home, no one would find out. What was a harder blow was the fact he was willing to use it to throw me under the bus if I didn’t retract my complaint.

  Two weeks later, my reputation was covered in mud and Uncle Charlie was off on early retirement. Right about the same time I received that unexpected call from my troubled friend, Dani, which ultimately led me to Durango.

  A lot has happened in the last eight months, most of which I’d prefer not to revisit. Still, knowing I have a job to do, I call the number I never got around to removing from my phone.

  “Elizabeth?”

  Clive’s annoying habit to call me by my full name instantly grates on me.

  “Lissie, but yes,” I can’t resist saying. “Hi, Clive, I’m actually calling in an official capacity.”

  I explain I’m working on an investigation, without giving him too many details, and ask his impression of Nowak. Apparently it was Nowak’s politics that hadn’t sat well with Clive. He reports his concerns have been validated with the clearly biased turn the news station has taken the past few years. Not unlike the other media outlets Nowak’s procured over the years. Their political affiliations have been showing and it’s becoming clear how there might well be common ground between Nowak and the ANL.

  “Have you heard of the American Nationalist League?”

  There’s a pregnant pause on the other end of the line before Clive finally responds.

  “You don’t want to be messing with that group, Elizabeth.”

  “Lissie,” I correct him. “And for the record, I’m not messing with anyone.”

  “You’re asking about a powerful group, Lissie,” he says with emphasis on my name. “Need I remind you what happened last time you started pointing fingers?”

  I bristle at his comment but remind myself nothing can touch me unless I let it. So instead of reacting, I take in a deep breath before speaking.

  “I’m simply making some general inquiries around an investigation, Clive. Nothing more, nothing less.” Despite my good intentions I can’t help the next words from escaping. “And as for my memory, it’s perfectly clear, including the way you turned your back on me under pressure.” I notice Blackfoot leaning over the partition, listening in with interest. “I have to go. Thanks for talking to me, Clive. It’s been helpful.”

  I hang up before he has the chance to say anything.

  “You okay, Bucco?” Keith wants to know, a look of concern on his face.

  “Just peachy.”

  Yuma

  “You coming to the clubhouse for a bit?”

  I’m tucking away my tools. We just finished installing the new sliding door.

  “Not sure.”

  The plan had been to go see Momma, then pick up something for dinner, and check if Lissie got home okay. I have no idea when that’ll be, and I haven’t seen my brothers in a while. Maybe it’s time to show my face, although I’m willing to bet Nosh won’t be happy to see me. Time to get it out with my old man.

  “All right. I’ll come, just give me a few minutes to clean up.”

  “No rush. I’ll have a smoke outside.”

  When Tse walks out, I dig a pen and a piece of paper from one of the kitchen drawers and scribble a quick note for Lissie I leave on the counter.

  Windows and door in. If you need me: 970 510 7892

  TTYL

  _______________

  “What are you doing here?”

  My father’s hands start flying the moment I walk in the door and spot him sitting at the bar.

  “My club too.”

  It’s asinine, standing twenty feet away from Nosh and virtually stomping my foot, but fucking hell, the man sets me back about thirty years in emotional development.

  “Hey, brother, good to see you.” Ouray rounds the bar and claps a hand on the old man’s shoulder before heading my way, effectively blocking my view.

  “Same,” I grunt, taking the hand he offers.

  “Yuma!” I look past Ouray to see Ezrah barreling toward me.

  “Hey, buddy. What are you up to?”

  Ezrah cocks his thumb over his shoulder. “Homework. Wanna come see?”

  Luna and Ouray’s teenage son, Ahiga, is sitting at the massive harvest table with two younger boys. The younger kids look like brothers but aren’t. Both are blond and blue-eyed, as were the three older kids who were rescued from a militant nationalist group last year. The boys were being brainwashed and trained like mini-soldiers. Between Ouray and Trunk, they fought to keep the two younger boys with the club, hoping the exposure to people of all races and backgrounds will be enough to erase the bigoted indoctrination they’ve been subjected to.

  I follow Ezrah, who explains in great detail what apparently is a science project spread out on the table, and spend the next fifteen minutes helping the kids make a start on their solar system. It’s a perfect way to avoid my father.

  “You staying for dinner?” I look up to find Lisa smiling down at me.

  “Have enough?”

  “Already cooking for an army, Yuma. One more mouth won’t make a difference,” she says, shaking her head.

  “In that case; what’s on the menu?”

  “Nana’s making tacos!” Ezrah contributes.

  “And salad,” she adds, to which he rolls his eyes, earning him a cuff to the back of his head. The two younger boys giggle. “Dinner in half an hour, boys. Make sure you have the table cleaned off by then.”

  I leave the kids to it and make my way to the bar, where Nosh’s wide back greets me. He barely looks up when I take the stool next to him.

  “How’s Momma?” I ask, signing. My father is deaf—Ouray’s boy, Ahiga, is as well—and I grew up using sign language. Just about every club member has picked enough up to make themselves understood over the years.

  “Nice of you to ask.”

  “Knock it off. I get you’re pissed at me, and you probably have reason, but don’t hang Momma’s condition on me.”

  I can tell he’s angry by the way he tosses back his beer. No way my father is going to hold back on alcohol on my account and he wants me to know it. Conveying a silent message, I grab the bottle Tse slides in front of me and take a swig of the water. I know I made my point when Nosh grunts.

  “She’s miserable there.”

  “She won’t be for long. You know it’s the right place for her to be.”

  “Fifty years next month, boy. Other than ‘Nam, never more than a couple of nights apart, ever. Now it takes twenty minutes to get to her.”

  Jesus. I can’t even imagine that kind of devotion. Almost five decades they’ve lived and worked side by side, it’s no wonder he’s out of sorts. All he has left now is his wayward son.

  “Have you thought about moving closer to her?” I ask carefully. “They have some independent senior housing on the property as well.”

  The glare he throws me is scorching. If I were a lesser man, I’d cower, but I know my father and he’s more bark than bite. Usually.

  “Trying to write me off too?”

  “Pointing ou
t options,” I correct him, trying hard not to react.

  I have my back to the door, but suddenly I notice the atmosphere in the clubhouse change. When I turn on my stool, I’m surprised to see Tony Ramirez walk in, followed by Lissie. Her eyes register surprise as well when she spots me, only to look away quickly.

  “What brings the Durango PD here?” Ouray asks friendly enough.

  “What do you know about the Wildcat Canyon development off Highway 160?” Ramirez asks Ouray, who looks over at the boys at the table before returning his attention to the detective.

  “Let’s take this into my office.”

  I watch as Lissie falls into step behind Ouray and Ramirez, heading toward the back of the clubhouse.

  “Yuma!”

  “That’s you, brother,” Tse grumbles, and I slide off my stool and follow the group to Ouray’s office.

  My eyes immediately find Lissie sitting in one of the visitor chairs, and I hitch a hip on the corner of Ouray’s desk across from her.

  “I know about the development,” Ouray says, tenting his fingers under his chin.

  “Good,” Ramirez says, holding the other man’s eyes as he leans forward. “You know Red Mesa Holdings?”

  I’m watching Lissie but at the silence following that question I turn my attention to Ouray. A muscle ticks in his jaw and his eyes flit to me.

  “It’s clear you already know I do.”

  I’m out of the loop here, I know the development they’re talking about, and I know about the body found there, but I’ve never heard of Red Mesa Holdings.

  “I get the feeling I’m missing something here.”

  All eyes come to me, but it’s Ramirez who answers.

  “Red Mesa Holdings is one of the investors in the Wildcat Canyon Development. Jasper Greene did some digging and discovered your friend Red Franklin’s club joined forces with Arrow’s Edge to form the holding eight months ago.”

  This is news to me. I raise my eyebrow at Ouray.

  “You weren’t around much back then, brother,” he says by way of explanation.

  “Been around for a couple a months now,” I remind him, trying to hold off on losing my temper. Any major investments by the club are decided on by the club. Except apparently in this case.

  “Was a behind closed doors decision. Only Kaga and Trunk were in on it. Luna doesn’t even know.”

  “With Greene digging up that info, I don’t think she’ll be in the dark for long,” Ramirez points out.

  “Fuck.” Ouray rubs a hand over his face. “Red and I got to talking one night. I was frustrated with the lack of progress finding any family members for those two boys out there, and Red didn’t trust law enforcement to follow through bringing down the ANL.”

  “Why?” Lissie, who hasn’t said a word so far, but has been intently listening, asks. “Did he have reason for that?”

  “Red doesn’t have a high opinion of the Moab PD anyway, but in this case, he believes the ANL must’ve had some power over local cops to have been able to operate under their noses that long.”

  “Still doesn’t explain how you came to invest in the development,” Ramirez points out. “Especially since the first phase was already up at that time.”

  “Nowak.”

  At that moment, the door swings open and Luna comes marching in, shooting daggers at her husband.

  “Oh shit,” Ouray mumbles.

  I use that as my cue.

  CHAPTER 7

  Lissie

  I’M TEMPTED TO take off after him, but I came with Ramirez, so I have to wait.

  Ouray is trying to calm down Luna, an agent for the FBI, whose short frame doesn’t make her any less impressive. This is a woman you don’t mess with, as her husband seems to be discovering.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

  “Lots of shit you can’t tell me either.”

  “That’s my job, Ouray.”

  I watch as the large man leans in, his nose almost touching his wife’s.

  “Looking after those boys is mine, Sprite. You know that. I wanna find out what happened to their families, and I’m not sure it’s at the top of the FBI priority list.”

  “Don’t you think I want that?” she argues.

  “All right, guys,” Ramirez cuts in there. “I’d still like to know how Nowak ended up on the radar.”

  For a moment it’s like Tony hasn’t even spoken, but then both turn their attention to him.

  “Coincidence,” Ouray replies. “After the raid last year, Red heard rumors floating around that Hinckle had been seen wining and dining some bigwig who was in town trying to buy up the local TV station.”

  “Nowak,” Tony confirms.

  Hinckle was the former politician and known white supremacist, who ran the training facility for the ANL on his property in Moab.

  “Right. That’s what we found out. It wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine what the two might’ve had in common. What was a stretch was to consider what Nowak might get out of an investment we discovered he had in a subdivision in Durango. Especially on land owned by Hinckle.”

  “So you guys decided to join him?”

  Ouray shrugs. “It was a way to keep an eye on things. Red managed to get a couple of guys signed up with one of the contractors on the project, and he has a connection in the developer’s office.”

  _______________

  It’s dark outside by the time I leave the police station, my mind swirling with all the information that came pouring in today. It took a while to process and plan next steps for tomorrow.

  I managed to stuff my private file in my bag on the way out the door. Each time the Mesa Riders MC was mentioned, my ears perked up. It sounds so familiar. I could swear I’ve heard that name before and I think it may be somewhere in my notes.

  Journaling had become a way for me to escape when I was still living at the ranch with my father and brothers. No longer having Mom to talk to, I resorted to writing things down in notebooks. My friend, Dani, had been my only other outlet.

  We were in kindergarten together and stayed joined at the hip ever since. Dani was a bit of a wild child, always pushing boundaries and getting herself in trouble. Ten years ago, she got tired of trying to fit into a mold and took off on the back of a motorcycle, chasing the wind.

  She called a few times at first, but then we lost touch. The phone number I had for her was no longer in service and until that surprise call early this year, I hadn’t heard from her in many years. Despite her hurried whispers, I had no problem recognizing her voice, but before I could ask any questions the line went dead. The number she called me from was unlisted, so I couldn’t even call her back.

  I’m in trouble, Lissie. Big trouble. There’s someone in Durango who—

  I have no idea what she was going to say and she didn’t call again, but I pulled every page with reference to Dani from my journals and put them in a file. Hoping to find some clue to her whereabouts.

  Pulling into the parking lot, I notice the main light in the office is out, but a faint glow is coming from a window of the small apartment beside it. When I park the truck and get out, I hesitate for a second, wondering if I should go check on him, but then I rush up the stairs to my front door.

  The tension between Yuma and Ouray was obvious from their earlier exchange, which I assume is the reason he took off like that. If he wants to talk, I already made it clear my door would be open. I don’t want to force myself on him.

  I’ve barely flipped on the lights and dropped my stuff on the island, when a knock sounds at the door. He’s standing on the other side; his arms braced high on the doorposts, his head hanging down, long hair flopping in his face. Slowly he lifts his head, those blue eyes burning behind the blunt fringe of his lashes.

  “Hi.”

  That’s all I manage to say before his hand shoots out, hooks me behind my neck, and he slams his mouth on mine.

  I’m in shock, my body frozen even as his tongue pushes between my lips, but
it takes only one possessive sweep of my mouth for me to ignite. The abrasion of his beard is a new sensation, one I like a lot. My hand lands on his chest, curling into his shirt, as he walks me backward inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

  A picture frame crashes down beside me when my back bangs into a wall, but I’m already beyond caring. I barely notice when he pulls the elastic from my hair, mostly focused on his other hand sneaking under my shirt, his rough palm rasping against my skin.

  I moan in his mouth when he pulls down the cup of my bra, his fingers closing around my breast at the same time he presses a leg between mine. My hands skim restlessly along his back, down to his clenched ass, the muscles hard under my touch.

  “Shit,” he hisses when he lets me up for air.

  “Wow,” falls from my bruised lips.

  I can sense him retreating, even before he says anything, as his hand releases my breast and he takes a step back.

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  “Some tea?” I cut him off, straightening my clothes as I turn to the kitchen. I don’t really give him a chance to answer, pulling down a couple of glasses from the cupboard and getting the jug from the fridge.

  I don’t look but I can hear his footsteps approaching. Turning around I hand him a glass and take a sip of mine.

  “I shouldn’t have—”

  Again I interrupt. “I was right there, Yuma. Participating. Willingly.”

  Those eyes meet mine and behind his beard I see one side of his mouth tilt up.

  “I noticed.”

  “Yeah. So, you hungry?” I quickly change the topic, feeling my face get hot. “I haven’t had dinner. You?”

  Yuma

  “Nope.”

  I was supposed to have dinner at the club but ended up walking straight out of the clubhouse earlier. I’m not happy something so significant was kept from me. It feels like betrayal, not just by Ouray, but by Trunk, Kaga, and Red too. It fucking burns.

  “Pizza?”

  “Sure.”

  I watch as she pulls a takeout menu from a kitchen drawer and orders a large pie. The whole time I’m reliving the feel of the weight of her breast in my hand, the slick taste of her mouth, and the heat of her core burning through the jeans covering my thigh. I quickly adjust myself but not fast enough. Lissie catches me as she hangs up and turns around.