Chapter 4
SPIDER
"For fuck's sake!"
I was a foot taller than her and I was losing ground. My stride was twice as long but she was running like a fucking gazelle.
Her red hair was blowing behind her like she had an afterburner attached to the back of her head.
I was sucking air like someone had duct-taped my mouth shut and poked a hole for a straw. And no more.
I had heavy boots and jeans. But she had boots and jeans too.
Any more of this and I'd be bent over gasping and she'd be gone.
"Babe!" I yelled. She slowed. "Babe—" I yelled again after the next breath. "Stop. Please."
She stopped.
I bent over, hands on knees, and decided I needed to hit the gym more often. I couldn't let this little nymph get away from me again.
When I straightened up, I could just fucking tell she wasn't going to move. I was going to have to walk the next fifty yards to get to her.
Rowan
I'd heard Olympic sprinters only took a breath or two over a hundred meters, and I didn't know how long I'd been running, but I couldn't remember breathing.
Couldn't remember seeing anything other than the space in front of me.
I couldn't hear anything either, until that word.
Babe.
Something made me slow. And when he repeated it… Stop.
I had nowhere to run anyway. What I was up against… if they wanted me dead, I was as good as done.
I almost felt bad standing there while Spider trudged toward me. His whole body working just to close the distance between us.
And when he got there, he wrapped me up in his arms, and beneath all the huffing and puffing I believed he would protect me.
Spider
I pulled out my phone. "Yeah, Bro. The van. Heading toward town."
"Seriously?"
"What?"
"Are you calling a ride?"
"Um…"
We both looked toward the club. The black Skulls van came through the gates and headed our way.
Fuck.
It pulled up alongside us and Wheelie hung out the side window. "What?—"
I slid my hand across my throat and he stopped. Thank god.
He looked between Rowan and me, took too fucking long to think, then said, "…do you want me to pick up while I'm in town?"
"Just those parts I needed for my bike." I hated lying. But once you started, things always get worse. This was a little white one, though. Something we could laugh about later, so I ran with it.
"Sure, Bro." He smiled, then looked past me. "Rowan." Even broader smile.
He pulled away and I said, "We'd better get back. Dax doesn't like to wait."
Rowan was smiling when I looked at her.
Shit.
"What?"
"Wheelie was wearing mirrored sunglasses."
Rowan
I wouldn't like to play poker against either of them.
We were in Dax's office. Dax, Buzzard, Spider, and me.
When we walked through the door, the men were already seated. Buzzard stood. Dax didn't.
Buzzard held out his hand.
I looked at Dax and he gave me an almost imperceptible nod.
I shook it. What else was I going to do?
I'd never met a killer. Not that I knew of. And here I was, skin to skin with one. He didn't squeeze, just placed his other hand on the side of mine and held me there for a few seconds while he held my gaze.
What was going on behind those eyes? I had evidence. I could have made copies already. He had to be thinking that.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
Buzzard didn't say a word.
Finally I said, "You killed a man."
He tipped his chin once.
That was all I needed.
I turned to Spider and he dragged a seat over for me, then one for himself. We sat. Buzzard straightened his back, leaned toward me, and started to talk.
Buzzard did all the talking. I listened, mostly, but had a few questions.
"The guy at the back of the bar…" he said, "was a fucking pedophile."
I could see the anger in his eyes. No poker face now.
He told me the man's name but I didn't really hear it. I think I blanked that part out, because no matter what he had done, I didn't want a name to the face.
"The Judge… Harrison… crooked fucking prick.” He wasn't holding back on his language and no one was calling him out on it. "Let him off on a technicality."
"Technicality?" I said.
"Fruit of the Poisonous Fucking Tree," he said. "If a search warrant had a minor technical flaw… and it did, the judge could throw out all the evidence."
I needed more. "What was it?" I asked.
"Harrison agreed with the defense that the sheriff's department had executed the raid forty minutes before the warrant was officially signed, violating Williams' constitutional rights against unlawful search."
Williams. Shit, OK. I didn't want to know a name, but it could be a last name or a first name, so it meant nothing.
He continued. "With the primary evidence suppressed, the state was forced to drop all charges. He was a free man."
"Oh."
"Yeah, but not for fucking long, right?"
Was I supposed to agree with that?
Maybe. He was waiting, but I'd already seen the benefits of saying only what was needed.
"What was this man to you?" Spider asked.
"Someone who got too close to family," Buzzard said, and the look alone could have killed.
"The judge," Spider said.
"Related to the asshole.”
"What was the SUV in the lot that night?" Spider asked.
"Escalade," Buzzard said.
Spider shook his head, so Buzzard said, "Victim's father."
I had wondered, when I was lying in bed thinking about what had gone down, why in the sea of bikes that were always in the lot, a six-figure vehicle was parked there and left soon after. Apart from bikes I had only ever seen black vans.
The conversation continued for a little longer, then stopped abruptly, and Buzzard looked at Dax.
Dax picked up the cell phone that was lying face-down on his desk and handed it to me.
I knew what they wanted and I knew that I would be okay with that.
Buzzard leaned toward me and I opened to the photos and handed the phone to him.
He deleted them, and I watched as he cleared them from the trash as well.
He handed it back and asked, "No copies?"
"None."
"OK. Thank you."
The thank you was unexpected, but it made me feel a little better about being an accessory to murder.
"This never happened," Dax said.
Those were the most reassuring words I'd heard since clicking that button.