CHAPTER SEVEN
The sound of someone banging on a door somewhere had me opening one eye and groaning when I see both Sin and Morgan, two club girls at the Dallas chapter of the DCMC.
“What the fuck?” I growl as my head swims. How much did I have to drink last night?
“We’re ready for another go around.” Morgan purrs, shoving her tits in my face. I’m not up for anything, but unfortunately, I can’t say the same for my dick, which is already standing at attention.
“What?” I call out, finally realizing the knocking is coming from my bedroom door. Turning my head away from Morgan’s swinging tits, they were great last night, but right now I just want to sleep.
I hear voices, then someone is shaking me awake. “Brother, get up.” Is that Ky? I turn my head to look at him, unable to focus my eyes. Shit. I can’t believe how hungover I am.
“Leave me alone. I’m dying.” I grumble, covering my head with the pillow.
“Get up, brother,” Ky shouts. “The pigs are here.” Those were the right words to get my ass moving, and my hangover to disappear immediately. What the fuck do the pigs want with me?
“What the fuck did you say?” I demand, turning over onto my back and pushing the covers off me, uncaring that I’m buck naked. If this was some kind of sick joke, I wasn’t laughing, and he’ll soon be eating through a straw if he was fucking with me.
Ky arched a dark brow.
“You heard me. Two of Dallas’ finest are downstairs. They wanna talk to you.” He spoke with the sarcasm he intended.
I couldn’t help but frown. Even though I know I did nothing wrong, I couldn’t help my heart from racing as my anxiety rose.
My whole body froze as I jumped completely naked out of the bed. My thoughts went straight to Zoe. Did something happen with her? It couldn’t be a coincidence that we’d talked about her last night, and now the police are on my doorstep wanting to talk to me?
Just the thought that something has happened to her had the power to unman me. And his next words confirm what I’d been thinking.
“They want to talk to you about Zoe.”
“What the fuck?” I demand. Completely forgetting I have two club whores still in my room, taking in our conversation with interest. I turn my attention to both of them and growl. “Get the fuck out of here.”
I feel like a block of ice, unsure of what to do and where to turn. Turning to face the two club girls still in my bed. Feeling like a piece of shit. While I was fucking two club girls, something was happening with Zoe.
“Out!” I clench my jaw tight.
“What? Why?” Sin, her blonde hair tousled around her pretty face, frowning.
“Because I fuckin’ said so. Now get.” I bark out. Turning my back to them and sliding into a clean pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. My thoughts and emotions all jumbled.
Morgan, a brunette, taps Sin on the arm, and motions for her to move. They both get out of my bed, both naked, not bothering to cover up as they stroll to the door.
“Call if you need us.” Morgan throws over her shoulder, while Sin gives me the death stare, but remains silent.
Oh, fuck no. I don’t need another Honey in my life, like Tiny had, to deal with. I’ll have to nip it in the bud before it gets to a stage where she gets to stalker level.
Sliding into my steel capped boots, I run down to the common room, getting into my cut as I go, Ky right behind me. Kick sent me, Angel, Riggs, and Ky and Tiny out to the Dallas clubhouse of the DCMC to help solve an issue they had with their gun shipment. And now the fucking pigs want to question me over something, I have no idea what.
I reach the great room where the brothers usually congregate to shoot some pool. Watch the big screen tv or drink at the bar. Two detectives are standing in the Dallas clubhouse, both smirking when they see me. “What can I do for you, finegentlemen?” I ask as calmy as possible, gentlemen being the operative word, as I jam my hands into the front pockets of my jeans, and try to clear my face of all emotion.
“We need to have a chat.” fucker number one says, and my nerves ratchet up another notch, but I wouldn’t give these two assholes the satisfaction of showing them their presence in my clubhouse was bothering me. His sidekick sneers at me, as if he had something over my head that I didn’t know about, though by the looks on their faces, I have a bad feeling that somehow they do.
“Just fuckin’ tell me what’s going on, detective. Am I gonna need a lawyer for whatever the fuck this is?”
Detective Douche sighs dramatically, and my fist itches to connect with the five o’clock shadow on his chin. The rumpled look he had going, doing nothing for him.
“We got a call early this morning about a disturbance at one of the gated estates situated out of town.”
He begins irritatingly slowly, and my heart thumps erratically. In Seattle, Washington, we have the police in our pockets, but it’s a different story here in Dallas. Caleb and his crooked pals were determined to screw over Kon Sokolov and the Devil”s Carnage MC for any reason they could come up with. And it seems now they’ve found a way.
Detective Douche number two continues while asshole number one looks on,
“There was a disturbance at Mr. and Mrs. Thatcher’s place.” I wanted to smack the almost self-satisfied looks off their fucking faces, but when he says disturbance, I couldn’t think of anything but whether Zoe was alright?
“The police found Mrs Thatcher,” he clears his throat, “with multiple stab wounds and a gunshot wound to the stomach. They took her to the hospital. Doesn’t look good for her, unfortunately. Or you.” He adds, almost smugly.
Detective number one examines me closely, trying to gauge my reaction. But by then, I had completely zoned out when I heard my worst nightmare was happening.
Without thinking, I run for the exit, wanting to get to her as soon as possible, but a couple of my brothers, who were creating a ring around me, held me back, knowing I would lose my shit.
“Woah there, brother. Don’t give them an excuse to shoot your ass!” Angel hisses in my face, giving me a silent warning to calm myself down, a hand on my chest. “You can’t lose your shit right now. Be strong for Zoe. Okay, brother?” he advises quietly.
Out of all of us, Angel was the level-headed one, that thought and acted methodically, rarely, if ever, getting into conflicts. Though he never shied away from them.
He knew when to pick his battles. This was clearly not one any of us would win. So I forced myself to calm down.
Both detectives were on their feet, their guns trained on me. The red fog lifting, and I knew, I just knew, Caleb had something to do with this. And this was his opportunity to pin Zoe’s attack on me. The fucker.
I want nothing more than to lay Angel down for getting in my way. But I stop myself, digging my heels into the floor before I go through him like a battering ram.
Just then, the door to Lexie’s bedroom opens, and Riggs steps out. Both Angel and I narrow our gaze at him, and he lowers his head. Fuck him, I don’t have time to quiz him about why he was in Lexie’s room.
“I have to go, brother. Zoe needs me.” I say to Angel, ignoring Riggs altogether. Unable to keep the desperation out of my voice.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Detective Douche speaks up, and if my brother hadn’t held me back, I’d have charged the motherfucker with a gun trained on me or not.
I narrow my gaze at the two men, who seem to be just waiting for me to do something so they could take me out right here in the middle of the clubhouse; I take a deep breath and stand with my hands in the pockets of my jeans and my feet apart.
“What’s goin’ on, pig?” I couldn’t help adding, watching in satisfaction the way his face reddens. “If you’re trying to pin this on me, I have an alibi, I was here all night, and I hadn’t seen Zoe in over a year.”
“We have evidence to the contrary.” Detective Douche number two drawls, removing a pair of cuffs from his pocket. Coming towards me with them. He must’ve seen the warning look on my face, because he stops in his tracks, looking to his buddy to know what to do next.
I couldn’t speak for a minute, and all talk stopped in the clubhouse. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ shittin’ me? What fucking evidence?” I finally explode. In shock, I don’t fight when they put handcuffs around my wrists.
“Bodie Dawson, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Zoe Thatcher.” he announces with great satisfaction, written all over his pompous face.
“Hands behind your back,” Idiot number two demands. I can’t believe what’s happening here. It’s like I’m in an episode of the Twilight Zone.
Caleb had it out for me for a long time now, all because he couldn’t get over the fact I was Zoe’s first. I could only hope that she can clear up this mess once she wakes up.
I desperately want to tell them to go to hell, but that would only make my situation worse, so I just stand there in stony silence, letting them cuff me.
“Go to the hospital,” I calmly tell my Briar Creek brothers. “Make sure Zoe’s okay.”
“You know it, brother.” Ky replies, slapping me on the back, and giving both detectives a dark look, which they simply ignore.
A ball of emotion lodges in my throat at his words, and I swallow it down. I can’t afford that feeling right now. I need to keep a level head if I’m going to get through this bump in the road. It’s not the first time I’ve found myself in the slammer, but it is the first time I’m going there for something I hadn’t done.
I let them lead me, my hands cuffed behind my back, my brothers following behind me to their cop car, and bundle me in the backseat.
“We’ll get in touch with the club attorney.” Riggs promises, and all I can do is nod my thanks as we drive away from the clubhouse.
We drive to the station in stony silence. Well, I’m silent, listening to the two twits up front, practically admitting what actually happened to Zoe, in a roundabout way. And who was going to believe me, anyway? I was a member of an outlaw motorcycle club. Not an upstanding member of society or a detective with untold commendations to his name.
Caleb should be the one sitting here with his hands cuffed. Where the fuck is the bastard, anyway? Probably has done a runner after attacking Zoe, and leaving her to die. I shake my head, him in cuffs would be too good for the likes of him. Only his death will satisfy me at this point. I need to bide my time, but I will have my revenge for Zoe and for myself.
We arrive at the station within ten minutes, the sound of motorcycle pipes following us going a long way in calming my jangled nerves.
I’m surprised to see the club lawyer already there, and I send a silent thanks to my brothers for working as quick as lightning to get this done as soon as possible. I smile gratefully at him as I’m led into the interrogation room. But the only thing I can think about it Zoe, and what happened to her last night. If only I had driven past her place like I do most nights. Just to let her know I’m there if she needs me. But after what Lexie said after returning from the club last night, I decided I’d rather get shitfaced and spent the night with two club whores instead.
Of course, she would never admit that she needs me. She’s a strong, independent woman. Well, she was until she married that prick, Caleb. That she married him still sticks in my craw, even after all this time. And even worse, he’s never failed to rub it in my face, whenever I’ve had to come to Dallas on club business that Zoe is his now, and that there’s nothing I can do about it.
I shouldn’t want to do anything about it, should I? After all, I let her go for her own safety all those years ago. And to get back at me for it, she turned around and married the last man I wanted her with.
The club lawyer, Travis Tobin, sits down and motions for me to do the same. He’s dressed in an expensive looking gray suit which fits him like a glove, leading me to believe he must’ve got it custom made. He lays his black leather briefcase on the floor, pinning the two detectives with a dark stare.
“Alright, gentlemen, let’s get this over and done with, shall we? So that my client can get home,” he tells them, his voice dripping with confidence, and I want to fist bump the guy, but he doesn’t look like a man that does that sort of thing.
“Your client is in a whole heap of trouble.” detective number one tells him, a smug look on his face, mirroring the other guy’s.
“Oh, and why is that?” Travis asks smoothly, a brow arched.
Detective douche number two retrieves a baggie out of his pocket and places it in front of me. I narrow my eyes at it when I see it’s a large, silver chunky man’s ring. My heart stops for a second when I realize what it is.
I fight to play it cool, not showing anything on my face.
“Yeah, and? What’s that?” I ask, motioning toward it with my head, my hands tied behind my back.
“Take a look, tell me if you recognize it.” The asshole drawls. If I didn’t have my hands cuffed, I’d smack that smug look off his face. I lean closer, seeing the piece of jewelry clearer. A smile finally breaks on my face when recognition over the ring dings in my mind.
There, in front of me, was the ring I gave Zoe all those years ago as a kind of promise ring. It was a large ring, much too big to wear on her tiny finger, so she attached it to a chain and wore it around her neck. The B for my real name emblazoned in the middle in silver lettering over an onyx background. She must’ve been wearing it at the club last night. Meaning she still cares for me. That’s when I decide I was going to fight for the woman I love. I just pray she makes it out of this alive.
My lawyer smiles.
“What’s so funny?” the detective demands, with a narrowed stare.
“Really, gentlemen? That’s all you have? A ring?” Travis mocks.
“She was clutching it in her hand when we found her,” detective number one replies, as if that little tidbit is the be all and end all of his case against me. Asshole. The words he spoke last circle in my mind, and a wave of overwhelming anger and sadness over the whole situation comes over me. She was clutching it in her hand.
“Have you spoken to her asshole husband?” I demand to know. Seconds of guilt showed on each of their faces before they quickly cover it with slow arrogant smiles. This was the perfect crime to pin on someone who”s a member of a motorcycle club. No one would question it. I was just a low life criminal to the Dallas PD. Oh, the irony.
“There”s also the little matter that we found your DNA at the scene,” detective number two taking great pleasure in informing me.
Wait! What? How the hell had my DNA got there? I’ve never stepped foot into the home she shares with the asshole. I open my mouth to tell them just that, when Travis puts a hand on my arm, squeezing lightly, telling me now’s not the time to speak.
“Okay, gentlemen, we’ll bite. Where was this so-called evidence found?” my lawyer speaks casually, but he was as tightly wound as a coiled spring.
“All over the house. The doctors found your client’s semen inside Mrs. Thatcher. We may hold you for forty-eight hours without charge. But we have enough evidence to put you away for life. And if Mrs Thatcher doesn’t wake up, well, that’s a murder charge right there,” detective number one says with undisguised satisfaction.
I jerk back as if someone had hit me. What the actual fuck? The detective motions for his lackey, and the other guy moves to stand behind me.
“Get up,” he orders. But before my brain registers what he’d said, I’m being hauled to my feet.
“I am placing you under arrest”. The fucker drones on, but I had completely tuned out, unable to believe what was happening.
Despite my lawyer”s insistence on my release, the douche forcefully ushers me into the main area of the police station, and I’m placed in a holding cell. I vaguely hear what sounds like a scuffle between the police and a few of my brothers, but it was like I was having an out-of-body experience. That it wasn’t me this was happening to.
Sitting on the hard wooden bench against the wall, my elbows resting on my jean clad thighs, I stare down at the stained concrete floor. I wasn’t worried for myself; I could handle life behind bars. I was panicking for Zoe. Knowing that she was married to a man who could beat, shoot and rape her, leaving her for dead leaves me cold to my core. I need to get word to my brothers to watch over her while I’m in here.
Knowing that he’s out there somewhere, free to finish the job, makes me want to break out of here and go hunting.
But I’m going to have to wait, and hope against hope that Zoe recovers and I get out of here. Then Caleb Thatcher won’t know what hit him. I guarantee it.