13. Crow
CHAPTER 13
CROW
She wants justice, to punish the guilty, but not at the expense of the innocent.
The Soulless Kings killed her!
Addison’s painful scream echoes in my mind as I hold her. As soon as the words left her mouth, she collapsed. Fortunately, I was able to scoop her into my arms before she hit the floor.
I have no idea why she thinks we’re responsible for her mother’s death, but I intend to find out. There’s no denying that my club is guilty of taking lives, but we’d never take an innocent one.
“Shhh,” I soothe. “It’s gonna be okay.”
The fact that she’s practically limp against me is a testament to the extent of her agony. If she could control her emotions, she’d no doubt be trying to kill me.
“I hate you,” she mumbles.
“I know.”
Her sobs continue, and they go on for so long, I begin to worry about her well-being. I reach into my pocket to grab my phone and send a text to Jackyl.
Me: Need you in my room
Jackyl: Not at the clubhouse
Me: Then fucking get here!
Jackyl: Be there in ten
Satisfied that he’ll be here, I toss my cell onto the nightstand. I rub circles over her back in an effort to comfort her, but Addison’s cries don’t subside. Her breath hitches, her shoulders shake, and her body clenches and unclenches with tension.
“I h-h-hate y-you,” she repeats weakly.
“I know.”
What else is there to say? Arguing with her while she’s in this state won’t do me any good. Besides, I do know that she hates me, or at least she hates my family.
But she shouldn’t. And that’s exactly why I kept her here. Because I need her to see that we’re good people. We didn’t do the things she thinks we did, the things we’ve been framed for.
If we were guilty, I’d admit to it. I don’t make a habit of lying, even if it can save my own ass.
And more than that, I wouldn’t lie to her. I don’t think I’m capable of it.
You like her!
This isn’t the first time that thought has crossed my mind. Addison McGill was the one person outside of the club who I let see the real me. Sure, it was a much younger version of me, but me all the same.
My bedroom door opens, and Jackyl strides in carrying his backpack, which I know holds some of his medical supplies. He halts when his eyes land on me and Addison on my bed.
“Pres, I’m a doctor, not a therapist,” he states bluntly.
“No shit, Sherlock,” I mutter. “She’s been crying for a while. I’m worried.”
“Last time I checked, crying isn’t a death sentence.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Will you just make sure she’s okay?”
Jackyl heaves a sigh. “Yeah, Pres.”
While he moves closer to the bed, I shift Addison off my lap. “Jackyl’s just gonna check you over, okay?”
She sniffles and nods as she takes several deep breaths in an effort to calm herself. “I-I’m f-fine,” she stutters.
Jackyl removes the blood pressure cuff from his bag and wraps it around her arm. “Are you feeling okay?” he asks, and Addison shrugs. “Blood pressure is a little high, but you’re obviously upset so that doesn’t concern me too much.” He takes out his stethoscope and listens to her heart. “Take a few deep breaths for me.” She does as instructed. “Heart sounds good.” He focuses his attention on me. “She’s fine, Pres. I’d say some rest would do her a world of good.”
“I don’t think I can sleep,” Addison mumbles.
“I can give you something to help with that if you want,” Jackyl states.
“Do that,” I order.
“No,” she blurts. “No more drugs.”
“It’d just be a mild sedative,” he assures her.
“You’ve drugged me once, and I can’t remember everything that happened. I’m not about to le?—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I snap. “He’s not drugging you.”
“I don’t want anything,” Addison insists.
Jackyl packs up his bag and moves toward the door. “Okay. But if you change your mind, let me know.”
With that, he disappears into the hallway. Once he’s gone, Addison moves to the end of the bed, as far away from me as she can get without standing.
“I’d like to be alone,” she says without looking at me.
I rise from the mattress. “I’ve got some things to do anyway.”
“Like cover up a murder,” she mutters with rage.
Anger rushes to the surface, and I grip her chin, forcing her to look at me. “No, Ace, I’m not going to cover anything up. But I am going to do whatever it takes to prove to you that your mother’s death isn’t the work of my club.”
She darts her gaze away, and I remove my hand. I stomp out of the room and race downstairs to make my way to the meeting room. Again, I take out my cell, but this time, I send a text to Journey and Tracer.
Me: Meet me in church… T, bring laptop
Three minutes later, the two of them walk into the room together.
“What’s up?” Journey asks.
“We’ve got a problem,” I blurt.
“You mean other than the pretty hostage hanging out in your room?”
I glare at Tracer, and he shrugs. “Not only does she think we killed the Limitless Throttle guys, but she also thinks the club had something to do with her mom’s murder.”
“Did we?”
“No.” I flop down in the chair at the head of the table. “Fuck, I don’t know.”
Tracer sets his laptop down and opens it. “Then I guess we should find out. What can you tell me about her? The mother?”
I recall Addison’s ramblings while she was crying. “She was shot during a robbery. Gas station on the edge of town.”
Tracer taps his keyboard, and each click of the keys seems to stab my brain. “Here we go,” he says as he flips the laptop around so Journey and I can see the screen. “Looks like she was shot with a shotgun. Cops said it was a robbery gone wrong, but the Chief is quoted as saying he believes Soulless Kings are responsible.”
“Was there any evidence linking us to it?” I ask.
“Pretty sure there’d have been an arrest if there was,” Journey says. “Pres, we didn’t do this. We don’t rob gas stations or use shotguns.”
“Then why are McGill and Addison so convinced of our guilt?”
Tracer turns his screen back around and resumes tapping. A few seconds later, he grins. “Maybe this’ll tell us.”
Journey and I move to stand behind him and glance over his shoulder.
“You hacked the police database?”
“Did you want answers or just to speculate?” Tracer counters.
“Answers.”
“Then yes, I hacked the police database.”
“And?”
“You can read,” he gripes.
So, I do. According to the police report, the gas station employee reported that the gunman had a Soulless Kings cut on, but his description of the patches doesn’t fit. We all have rockers under our club logo that state our chapter location, but this person didn’t. And the witness stated that the road name on the front of the cut was Stunner. There has never been a Stunner in our club.
“Son of a bitch!”
“We were framed,” Journey says with a sigh. “It can’t be a coincidence that we were set up then and are being set up now. I mean, Addison is linked to both crimes. One as a victim and the other as an investigator.”
“You think she set us up?” I ask incredulously.
I might not know everything about the woman upstairs in my room, but I know enough. She wouldn’t frame anyone. She wants justice, to punish the guilty, but not at the expense of the innocent.
“No, but someone linked to her did.”
“But why?” Tracer asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I intend to find out.”