Chapter 18
LUKE
“Be careful,” Scarlett whispered.
“I will.” I nodded and kissed her forehead, then turned and strode for the garage.
“Luke,” she called as my hand skimmed the handle.
“Yeah?” I glanced over my shoulder.
She stood in the living room, her face ashen. Her arms were wrapped around her belly. The worry line between her eyebrows was etched deep. It reminded me of the day I’d hauled her from the grocery store and she’d been sitting in that old recliner at the rental house. She looked lost. Tired.
I knew the feeling.
Things between us had been quiet this morning. I hadn’t gone to the station for my regular Saturday morning workout. I’d stayed home and we’d lain in bed, both of us pretending to sleep.
This would get easier, right? That’s what I kept telling myself. That one day, years from now, I wouldn’t care that we’d let the Warriors get away with murder. Because if I had Scarlett, it would be worth it.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I know.” I gave her a sad smile, then opened the door and disappeared into the garage.
It was nearly noon. Time to meet Dash.
There was a bar about halfway between Clifton Forge and Ashton.
It would take us over an hour to get there, and for the first time in months, I was looking forward to some space from Scarlett.
Not because I was mad at her. None of this was her fault.
I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t upset. I was just . . . what the fuck was I?
Conflicted. Frustrated.
And angry.
Okay, so I was angry. And if I had to aim it somewhere, I was sending it full force at the Warriors. Jeremiah had been one of them and that son of a bitch had put Scarlett in this situation. The rest of them could rot in hell just for existing.
Angry. Yeah, that was definitely the correct word.
I rammed some of that emotion into the gas pedal, my hands choking the steering wheel all the way to the garage.
Dash, Emmett and Leo were all waiting, their bikes in a short row in the parking lot. The minute Dash spotted me, he raised a hand, then pulled onto the street with Emmett and Leo following. The three of them roared onto the road in a single-file line and led the way out of town.
I glanced at the clock. Noon, exactly. It would take over an hour to get to the bar.
An hour to return. With the meeting time in between, it would probably be dinner by the time I made it home.
That was if everything went smoothly. That was if the guys didn’t want to stop and talk on the return trip.
I’d told Scarlett to eat without me, to not wait if she was hungry, but I doubted she would. She hadn’t eaten much in the past few days, not since I’d gone to the garage on Wednesday.
I didn’t like that she wasn’t eating. I didn’t like the faint blue circles under her eyes. It was too easy to look at her and picture the woman from months ago—starved and pale and exhausted.
Maybe with some luck, I’d come home tonight with good news and all that would be left for us to tackle was the FBI.
Then, hopefully, we’d get normal. I craved normal. No more visitors on repeat to my office. There wasn’t much happening, but I had hardly checked in with my staff since I’d returned from the river.
Or my dad.
As we pulled onto the highway, the bikes roared ahead, breaking away and speeding down the road. I caught up, the engine’s rev shoving me deeper into my seat. We settled into a fast cruise, the rumble of the engines ahead louder than my truck’s wheels on the pavement.
I hung back where it was quieter, then took out my phone and scrolled for my dad’s number. The call went straight to voicemail.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, leaving him a message. “Just calling to say hi. You’re probably out fishing. Catch a big one. Call me when you can.”
Damn. I tossed the phone aside. It would have been nice to talk to him. I wouldn’t have told Dad what was happening, but he was the constant in my life. He was the one to ground me, to remind me of what really mattered. Family. Honesty. Integrity.
I was falling down on a couple at the moment.
What the fuck would he say if he knew where I was going and why? He’d shake his head and curse under his breath. Dad had no use for murderers, thieves or thugs.
Was I any better? I was on my way to blackmail Tucker Talbot. I’d get Scarlett. All it would cost was my moral compass.
But I loved her.
God, I loved her. If there was ever a doubt, this trip proved how far I would go to keep her in my life. When this was all over and done, I sure as hell hoped she’d feel the same.
As the miles passed, all I could think about was Marcus Wagner. He’d been on my mind more in the last few days than he had in years.
Marcus had been a cop his entire life. He’d grown up in Clifton Forge, had served the town and its citizens for decades. He’d had a family. Friends. A good life.
And he’d thrown it away for love.
Marcus had been having an affair with Amina Daylee. According to his confession, he’d loved her. But she’d chosen Draven instead, and to Marcus, the price for that betrayal had been her life.
His love for her had compromised his integrity. He’d thrown his life away all in the name of love.
Was I doing the same thing?
I knew the answer. Deep in my heart, I knew the answer was yes.
But I kept on driving.
There was a black SUV tailing us. It had been since Clifton Forge. The FBI agents inside weren’t trying to hide themselves anymore. They could follow but I doubted they’d come into the bar where we were going to meet with Tucker.
Maybe it was Agent Brown herself behind the wheel.
I’d see her Monday whenever she decided to grace the station with her presence.
For once, I was looking forward to her waltzing into my office.
Because if Tucker agreed to leave Scarlett alone, I’d be bringing her to work with me on Monday.
And she could tell Maria that she’d been off on an unplanned vacation—or whatever we decided to say was the reason for her disappearance.
I expected they’d try to bully Scarlett into something, but my woman was no pushover. She’d keep on fighting because she was strong as steel. Her will was pure iron.
And she didn’t even realize it.
Which made her even stronger. Scarlett believed she was weak, that she wasn’t brave, so there was no ego to cloud her decisions. Every action was made with vulnerability and hope.
I put a lot of stock in hope. And I’d take it any day over blind confidence.
The rest of the trip passed quickly and by the time the bar came into view, my anxiety levels were record high.
Thankfully, after years of being a cop, I knew how to shove it down and stay steady.
The anger bubbling in my veins would stay safely trapped until I unleashed it on a punching bag at the station’s gym tomorrow morning.
I pulled into the bar’s gravel lot, the dust flying past us as we parked. The guys climbed off their bikes and I got out of my truck, my gun secured in its holster. I’d decided to wear a uniform shirt today with my jeans. My badge was clipped beside my gun.
There was no use pretending I was something I wasn’t, and Dash had likely told Tucker who’d be at this meeting.
The four of us strode into the bar. My eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dim light.
It was a typical rural Montana bar. The focus here was on serving booze, not providing ambience.
The scent of old cigarettes clung to the air.
It was illegal to smoke in public places, but after thirty or forty years of smoking before that law had passed, the scent had ingrained itself into the walls, floor and ceiling.
“What can I get you guys?” the bartender asked, shoving away from the place where she’d been leaning, watching the television mounted above the bar.
“Four beers,” Dash said. “Don’t care what they are. Just make them cold.”
She nodded and opened the cooler as we sat at a high-top table in the center of the room. We were the only patrons in the place.
None of us spoke as the bartender brought our drinks.
Dash handed her a couple of twenties and as she went back to her TV, we sat without speaking. Not one of us touched a beer. The bottles dripped with condensation, puddling on the scratched table.
“You good with what’s about to happen here?” Emmett asked, his voice low.
“Yeah,” I lied.
“You always were a shit liar.”
I chuckled. No, I wasn’t good with this. As a cop, I knew that Scarlett’s testimony could save countless others. Innocents who crossed paths with the wrong men, like Tucker Talbot. “There’s no justice in this.”
“This isn’t black and white, Luke,” Dash said.
“Never will be. There’s justice for Scarlett.
She holds no blame here. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
You can’t balance the scales. You’ll go crazy if you try because there’s no such thing.
We live in a gray world and you’ve got to pick the shade closest to white. So do what your heart tells you.”
And my heart told me to save her life.
Always. This was always for Scarlett.
Throwing Tucker in prison would feel fucking great, but Scarlett didn’t deserve to pay that pound of flesh.
There’s justice for Scarlett.
And it outweighed the injustice. A million times over, this was right.
I wasn’t Marcus Wagner. And I’d needed to be here, in this dark bar, sitting beside three former criminals, to realize the difference.
This was right. We’d get justice for her. And I had no problem living with that, no matter the means. “Thanks.”
Dash nodded.
I’d chosen the seat facing the door, and when it opened, the flash of sunlight brightened the room as three men wearing black leather vests strode inside.
Without an introduction, I knew which was Tucker. He walked with the arrogance of a man in charge. He thought himself untouchable. It oozed from his easy posture and the way he stayed one step ahead of his two subordinates. He was ready to give an order and they stood poised to take that command.
I imagined I looked somewhat similar at a crime scene.