Chapter Eighteen. #2
“Those were the times that Wylde crashed. And here is the footage showing that every time he did, Stitch had an… episode, shall we call it?”
Hatton pressed play on the video, and my lips tightened. Shit, Hatton had done his due diligence. I couldn’t deny what I was seeing, but I was going to anyway.
“Stitch wasn’t feeling well,” I lamely replied.
Hatton stared at me in disbelief and snorted. “Funny how those spells corresponded to Wylde or Cassidy crashing, and when their hearts began beating, they ended.”
“Coincidence.”
Hatton threw his head back and laughed. “That’s all you’ve got?”
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
“Sapphire, I’m going to be blunt. I know what Stitch is, and her secret will stay with me.
I won’t use it for blackmail, threats, or anything else.
That’s something I’d never do, nor will I discuss it with anyone else, apart from Cassidy and Wylde.
I also reckon Stitch isn’t the only one with abilities in this club, and again, not my business.
But I’m asking, why save his life to hurt him later on? ”
I stared at Hatton for several moments, unsure what to say. “You came here for Wylde?”
“I showed up here because the man I call brother is hurting. Let’s put our cards on the table. Your club has illegal enterprises. I know that. But I don’t believe they’re harmful to anyone. No drug running, no trafficking, and no arms shipments. Those are the three big noes for me.
“Maybe you run an illegal poker game once a month, or perform some hacking or launder money, fine. As long as nobody innocent is being harmed, honestly, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
If I catch you in the act, sure, I’ll take you in and charge you.
But am I actively coming after you? No, not anymore.
I thought you were deep into my three noes, now I know different. ”
“A month ago, you were trying to bring us down. And in four weeks, you’ve shifted your mind?” I challenged him.
Hatton smiled. “Two weeks ago, you ordered your club to save two men I call brothers. Yeah, I changed my mind. Because if you were the evil cunts I assumed you were, you’d have let them die.
You didn’t, and changed my perspective. Now I’m working to change others’ attitudes.
Mine and the chief’s prejudices have swayed them more than we realised.
As I said, if we catch you, we’ll arrest you, but I’m not actively watching you anymore. ”
“Bold change of opinion.”
“You saved Wylde. That goes a long way in my book.”
“You say I saved him; I don’t have any knowledge of what you’re saying.”
Hatton smiled slowly and tapped his laptop.
“You told me you were sending Stitch. I know. So, let’s quit running around in circles, and you listen to me.
Wylde is due back in two weeks. I’d rather he came back happy, healthy, and loved up.
I want the club to stop concealing its community actions and step up and own them.
The RHMC does a lot, and you keep it on the down low. Stop.
“Let the community get to know you for who you really are instead of hiding. And while you’re doing that, claim Wylde. Cassidy said at first he was hopeful you’d come around, but now he’s moping. He won’t be passed over for promotion or whatever fears you had. Take a chance, Sapphire.”
“It’s not as easy as you make out. Wylde will be judged for being with me, and his every arrest will be questioned. The community will turn against him,” I retorted.
“We’ll see. But as his superior, I can tell you, Wylde does have friends.
Think about what I said, Sapphire. By the way, there’s a meeting tonight.
Attend it.” Hatton packed away the laptop and got to his feet.
“You’re not a bad person, Sapphire, tightly strung and you’ve a stick up your ass, but not evil. Maybe you ought to consider that.”
Damn, I think Hatton just schooled me.
◆◆◆
I sat in the back row with my sisters and watched, amused, as an old lady took apart a city councillor over the drug paraphernalia in local parks. She had caught my eye when she got up to challenge them, and now, she turned to the councillor with a sneer.
“Then tell me how come all parks within a two-mile radius of the Royal Harlots clubhouse lack any!” she snapped at him.
“Mrs Deacon…”
“Nope, I wiped your ass, boy, as a baby. Don’t try to patronise me. Those parks are free of drugs and shit, so why aren’t the rest of them?”
I spluttered with laughter at the look on the guy’s face. Mrs Deacon had put him firmly in his place.
“We can look into it—”
“Oh, shut up. Why don’t we ask them why their parks are clear?” Mrs Deacon snapped at him and turned to me. “Well?”
“Well?” I replied suddenly, not liking being in the limelight.
“What do you do, girl, to keep drugs off your patch?” Mrs Deacon demanded.
“Um…”
“Speak up, child!”
Shit, what did I say?
“The RHMC patrols the parks without announcing we’re going to.
Any drug dealers are urged to move elsewhere, or the police will be alerted.
We tend to film them as well and have sent lots of footage to the police,” Sparrow said.
“Drug dealers have learned they can’t sell around us. We don’t approve.”
“Interfering with your sales?” someone called out, and my head snapped in that direction. Ah, one of the do-gooders.
“That is slander. My club does not deal in drugs, and we truly despise them. We have worked with the local law enforcement and sent several dealers their way,” I retorted.
“Yeah, because that then left you open to deal,” the woman sneered.
“Actually, Mrs Print, you’re wrong. The two miles around the Royal Harlot clubhouse have the lowest usage of drugs.
And Sapphire is correct; the Royal Harlots have turned over no less than thirty drug dealers in recent years.
All of which resulted in prison sentences for dealing and other related charges,” Hatton said from his place on the stage.
Mrs Print huffed and sat down.
“Then I think the PPD needs to speak to the Royal Harlots and understand what they do so well that our law enforcement can’t,” Mrs Deacon said. She looked happy with herself as mutters rose amongst the audience.
“I want to raise the issue of these thugs going around threatening businesses. One even used a bomb,” a man called out.
Several other voices joined him in agreement as the mayor called for order.
“We would like to know what you’re doing about it,” the guy said.
“Mr Fiddle, that is a current—”
“Don’t bullshit us. A woman died, a schoolteacher who was merely shopping. We’ve heard it was aimed at the jeweller and florist who had refused to pay protection money to this gang. What are you doing about these gangbangers?” Mr Fiddle cut the councillor off.
“The PPD is investigating and following all leads. If anyone here has further information, please speak to me after the meeting or call the tip hotline,” Hatton replied.
“I bet those women are behind this,” Mrs Print called. “Their presence brought this gang here.”
She looked at me and glowered.
“So, we’ve helped keep the streets clean so we can bring a gang in to upset the balance we’ve created? Whatever you’re drinking, share it around,” I quipped, and Mrs Print glowered as laughter rose.
“I’ve heard about your protection details with the shops!” Mrs Print yelled.
“We run a security business in which we provide protection. Is that what you’re referring to?” I asked calmly.
“I don’t know what your problem is, Agatha. But I’m grateful the girls are here. Can you imagine a male club running around instead?” someone asked.
Mrs Print blanched. “They’re leeches on polite society!” she yelled, pointing at us. “They have thrown drunken parties and orgies; they keep men like whores and sleep with them!”
“That’s enough!” I said, standing up. “You’re as ignorant as everyone else.”
“I agree,” Hatton said. “Did you know the RHMC is the sole funding source of the women’s shelter?
It should have shut down five years ago, but they continue to fund it out of their own pockets.
And they’re also in the process of providing a male shelter?
They donate generously to the department’s widows and childrens fund every year.
They do the toy drive at Christmas for children in need.
That expensive piece of equipment that saved your daughter’s life—they purchased it.
“They’ve also donated loads of money to the local food bank, bought items for veterans, and paid for Santa to visit the children’s wing for the last eight years.
I can go on about what else they’ve done, like the captain, but I ask, what have you done, Mrs Price?
Have you helped anyone lately or just been nasty? ” Wylde asked.
My eyes went wide as he appeared. He looked tired and miserable but as handsome as ever. Our eyes met, and I wondered what the hell I was doing. I’d been a fool. I sent Wylde a blinding smile, and slowly one surfaced back on his own lips. Let the city think what it wanted. I was claiming him.