Chapter 17 #2
Dash shrugged. “Tucker is an ambitious son of a bitch. He’s close with other clubs in Oregon and Washington.
Could be he’s trying to get them to come under his patch.
If he expands, then links up with the California clubs, the FBI is dealing with an entire coastal gang.
Maybe using a local resource was a shot at keeping that from happening. ”
“It’s all speculation. About Tucker. About Ken.
I found nothing to back it up,” Emmett said.
“Without the wife to question in person, it’s impossible to know if he was an agent.
Though her disappearance makes it more plausible.
Maybe she’s an agent too and has left to cover her tracks.
If the Warriors knew Ken was a fed, they probably suspect her too. ”
I scoffed and pointed to the far wall. “The wife is probably my new neighbor.” Agent Birdy had likely left Ashton and her role as Ken’s pretend wife to come to Clifton Forge and find evidence of his killers.
“Do you think the Warriors knew he was with the FBI? Or do you think they killed him for another reason?”
Dash shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. Though I’d wager they figured out Ken was undercover and killed him.”
I rounded the island and pulled Scarlett to my side. If the FBI was so desperate to talk to her, it meant they had nothing else. No proof to tie an agent’s death to the Warriors.
And Scarlett had the video.
Fuck. My stomach churned. This was getting more complicated every second. It was one thing to turn a blind eye to a criminal killing another criminal. Not acceptable, but slightly easier to swallow than a criminal murdering a fellow officer of the law.
To make it worse, Ken’s role in the FBI’s scheme hadn’t been enough. Whatever evidence Ken had found, if any, must have fallen short if Agent Brown was hounding me daily for Scarlett’s whereabouts. And she must not have enough evidence to get a warrant to raid or bug my house.
If I were in her position, I’d be desperate to punish the people responsible for a colleague’s death. I’d stick around Clifton Forge too if it was my only lead.
The Warriors needed to pay for his death. For all the lives they’d taken and ruined.
Other than Scarlett’s video, there had to be evidence in that clubhouse.
“How good of a job do you think the Warriors did at cleaning up that room where Ken was killed?”
“There won’t be any physical evidence,” Dash said. “They’ll have bleached that room clean. But there might be something electronic. Scarlett’s probably not the only one who recorded what went on in that room.”
I blinked. “What? They’d record a murder? Why?”
“My guess is Tucker has all of those rooms on video,” Emmett said. “But you won’t see his face. He’ll have stood right underneath the camera so his face wouldn’t show but everyone else’s would. He’d keep his voice low, maybe not speak at all.”
“That makes no sense. Why create evidence?”
“Because you’re thinking like a cop.” Emmett clapped me on the shoulder.
“Not the president of a motorcycle club. Let’s say one of his brothers gets an idea that Tucker isn’t fit to lead and starts convincing the brotherhood of the same.
What’s to stop them from putting Tucker in the chair next time and tossing his body in the river? ”
“You think they’d stage a coup?”
Dash nodded. “If the club wasn’t making enough money. If someone was ambitious and wanted to call the shots. Tucker would guard against it.”
“Was it like that for you and your dad?” I asked. Draven and Dash had both been presidents of their club. Had they always watched out for other members stabbing them in the back?
“Yes and no. We trusted with caution. And we were selective about who we allowed to join. We didn’t bring just anyone into the Kings.” Dash looked at Scarlett. “No offense, but if Jeremiah had shown up at our clubhouse door, he wouldn’t have made it over the threshold.”
“None taken.” She leaned in closer. “So you think Tucker records what happens in that room, and that he has evidence on the other members in case they try to betray him.”
“Guaranteed,” Emmett said. “But you are the only one who can put him down. There is no way anyone but him knows that room is being recorded.”
“Do you think he could have the whole clubhouse monitored?” I asked.
“Possibly.” Dash took a sip of his beer. “Maybe he already knows that Jeremiah was the one to steal his money. But then why would they keep showing up in town? Tucker’s looking for someone.”
“Me,” Scarlett mumbled. “He’s looking for me. And if he knows I took that video then—how did Leo put it?—I’m dead.”
“If Tucker knew you took that video, I don’t think you would have made it to Clifton Forge,” Emmett said. “Maybe he didn’t have the hallway recorded. Maybe he did and never checked the video. My guess is he only scans it when he needs to. So I don’t think he knows you have it. Yet.”
“Then he just wants me because he thinks I stole money.”
“Probably.” Dash nodded. “Tucker doesn’t allow theft. He’s ruthless with his money.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because I was once the president of a motorcycle club. Someone steals, they pay. End of story.” The cold, hard edge to Dash’s voice made Scarlett wince.
“I think Tucker’s covering his ass right now,” Emmett said.
“If Ken Raymond was an FBI agent, Tucker made a bold play by dumping him in that river. And if the FBI is as prevalent in Ashton as they are here, he knows they’re looking for Scarlett.
You are probably one of the only few who’s lived in that clubhouse and not loyal to their club.
You’re a wild card. My guess is Tucker wants to find you to figure out what you know.
And what you are going to say. Hell, he might think you were undercover too. ”
“This is so frustrating.” Scarlett pushed out of my hold and dragged a hand through her hair, pulling at the roots. “We’re guessing. We’re all guessing.”
“Want to drop that video anonymously?” Dash asked. “Might work.”
I shook my head. “Scarlett and I discussed it. There’s no way the FBI doesn’t trace it back to her and make her testify.”
Mostly, I suspected that the FBI needed Scarlett to give them an excuse to get through the clubhouse doors. If they could use her as a witness, they might be able to get a judge to issue a warrant for a raid on the Warriors.
Scarlett moved away from the island, pacing the width of the kitchen. Four steps. Turn. Four steps. Turn.
There was so much regret on her face and for once, I didn’t know what to say. How could I promise her a future when I wasn’t actually sure she could get out of this?
“Okay, let’s back up,” I said. “Let’s assume the Warriors don’t know about the video. Before we can deal with the FBI, we need to get the Warriors out of Clifton Forge and away from Scarlett. How do we do that?”
“Leverage,” Dash said.
Leverage. Hadn’t I used that word yesterday?
“We tell them she has the video,” Emmett said. “It disappears when they do.”
Bile rose in my mouth. Except if we worked with the Warriors, it meant letting killers go free. It went against everything I believed in as a cop. Everything I believed in as a man.
The prize for my morals was Scarlett.
“So we just lay it all out there,” I said.
Dash nodded. “It’s about the only option I see. We go to Tucker. Tell him Scarlett didn’t take his drugs. Tell him the FBI wants her and that she’s got video proof of a murder. Tucker’s always been a man to make a deal. We set it up so that if anything happens to Scarlett—”
“Or anyone,” she interrupted. “They have to agree to leave everyone alone.”
“Agreed,” Dash said. “They leave us all alone, leave Clifton Forge for good, or the video goes to the FBI.”
Scarlett stopped pacing. “This seems crazy. Will it work?”
“I don’t know,” Dash admitted. “But if it was me in your shoes, that’s what I’d do.”
The kitchen went still.
Scarlett looked to me.
“It’s your call, beautiful.” This wasn’t a decision I could make for her.
It was the river all over again. We were still left with only two options.
Negotiate with the Warriors.
Or go to the FBI.
Scarlett gained her life back if we blackmailed the Warriors into her safety. And the Warriors would get away with murder. Another murder.
Could I live with it? Knowing that a cop, a guy who’d started out like me just hoping to make the world a better place, had been killed while doing his job? And doing nothing about it?
Ken Raymond deserved justice. Scarlett deserved her life.
My insides were being torn in two, like a bullet ripping through my chest, shattering bone, splitting my heart right down the center.
For years, I’d acted as chief of police, upholding the law, keeping citizens safe. I’d vowed to do a better job than Marcus Wagner had before me.
But was I better than Marcus Wagner? He’d killed a woman, snuffed out her life with his own hands. Maybe I hadn’t committed a murder, but if Scarlett chose to make a deal with the Warriors, I’d be an accessory to one all the same.
At the moment, my crime seemed just as grave as Marcus’s.
Some things were easier to overlook, like Emmett’s propensity for hacking. A mom in a minivan driving nine miles over the speed limit. A jaywalker on Central. But this was murder. Could I really let that go?
Yesterday, I’d promised myself I’d find another way to pin the Warriors with Ken Raymond’s murder. But a deep, soul-crushing hopelessness settled into my bones.
If the FBI hadn’t found evidence, I sure as hell wasn’t going to either.
I turned for the sink, pouring my beer down the drain. Then I braced my hands on the counter, staring at the thin covering over the window like I could see out to the yard.
I couldn’t look at Scarlett. She’d want me to decide and damn it, I couldn’t do it.
Finally, she whispered, “Call Tucker.”
“Okay,” Dash said. “I’ll let you know what we find. We’ll get out of here.”
Then without another word, he and Emmett set down their beers, the glass bottles clanking on the island, and walked out the door. The thud of their boots echoed through the garage until they were gone, replaced by the roar of their bikes coming to life.
Then it was silent.
The silence stretched. Minutes passed. Until Scarlett’s bare feet padded across the wooden floor and her arms snaked around me from behind.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
Fuck. I hung my head and turned, pulling her to me in a fierce hold. “I don’t want to lose you either.”
“I know it’s selfish. I know it’s not the right thing. But I don’t want to lose you.”
With her chin in my hand, I tipped up her face. Her eyes were swimming with tears. I pushed the hair away from her temples, then released her chin to frame her face before dropping my lips to hers.
The kiss started slow. Smooth. Then a frenzy built in my veins, an urgency to savor her taste and memorize the slide of her tongue against mine.
Scarlett’s arms banded tight, holding me closer as I devoured her mouth. As much as I was soaking her in, she was doing the same.
A moan escaped her throat when I picked her up off the floor. She took her arms from my ribs, one at a time, looping them over my shoulders. Her legs wrapped around my hips. Then the frenzy became a wildfire.
I strode across the house, practically jogging to the stairs. On the way to the bedroom, I tore at her clothes while she tore at mine. Hands roamed. Fingers fumbled. The urgency to get her naked, to feel her skin on mine, was like a siren blaring in my mind, blocking out any other noise.
Scarlett pulled and tugged at the buttons on my uniform shirt until it was free. I had her stripped to only a bra with her jeans and panties bunched at her ankles.
I picked her up, tossed her onto the bed and tore off her pants before shoving mine away. Then I ripped at her bra, breaking the center clasp, before settling into her arms.
Her lips found the skin of my shoulder, nipping and licking and sucking. My cock found her center, and with one hurried thrust, I drove home.
“Luke,” Scarlett cried, ecstasy straining her voice.
“Fuck, you feel good.”
She moaned her agreement as I slid out and slammed inside once more. Over and over, we moved together like practiced lovers, taking and giving pleasure from each other’s flesh.
It wasn’t slow and elegant. It wasn’t lazy and gentle. We fucked, wanton and rough, surrendering to the need to just be together. To connect as one.
The fears disappeared, as did the worries about tomorrow. Sinking into Scarlett’s tight body was the balm to soothe my troubled soul.
Scarlett’s nails dug into my skin. Her moans filled the room as she chased her release. The scent of her shampoo and our sex clung to the air.
This was what we were fighting for. This, right here. Us.
My hips thrust harder and harder, our skin slapping together, until her legs trembled and the pressure built in my lower spine.
“Baby,” she gasped.
“Come.”
She detonated around me, clenching and drawing out my own release. I poured into her in long strokes, collapsing onto her, spent. Then I held her, my arms banded tight.
The decision I’d shoved away, the doubts, came rushing back like a tidal wave.
“Can you live with this?” Scarlett asked.
I slid out and rolled us both, tucking her into my chest so she couldn’t see my face. So she couldn’t read the lie. “I’ll be fine.”
We didn’t speak of it again.
Scarlett fell asleep in my arms, and when darkness crept across the floor, I slipped from our bed and went downstairs. I shut the garage door. I turned off the lights. I stood at the sink and replayed the options in my mind, desperately hoping to think of another.
But there wasn’t one to explore.
I sighed, ready to head upstairs, when my phone buzzed on the kitchen counter with a text from Dash.
Tomorrow. Meet at the garage. Noon.
Tomorrow, we’d talk to Tucker. Tomorrow, we’d make a deal with the devil.
Could I live with it?
Only time would tell.