Chapter 22 Gas Leaks, Treachery, Ninety-Nine to Life
Gas Leaks, Treachery, Ninety-Nine to Life
HORSE
I’m sitting in the back of a police cruiser, and I fucking hate it.
The seat feels like plastic and is uncomfortable.
The space is too tight, and the smell is a combination of chemical cleaner, old coffee, and something metallic.
It makes my jaw clench. I want out. I’m feeling claustrophobic, but if sitting here means Dee and Mark rot in a cell for the next few decades, I’ll stay here all damn night.
Detective Pratt turns in his seat and looks back at me. “Did you make sure none of your men are visible?”
“Knife and I are the only ones here,” I tell him. “The rest will be at the station when you cart these assholes in. We’re the only two who have a personal interest in this shit. You know why.”
He nods. Pratt knows Dee is my ex and the mother of my son.
He is also aware that Knife is tied to Rebbie.
What he doesn’t know—and probably wouldn’t understand—is that Knife is lighter already.
I can see it in him. Rebbie being gone from his life isn’t a loss.
It’s a fucking relief. Hell, I get that because Dee being gone will be better for me and Caleb.
Fuck, my entire life is so much better now, and there’s only one reason for that.
Gwen.
She’s my Christmas miracle. That’s the truth, even if she’d roll her eyes and deny it.
Gwen’s never understood her worth. Dr. Dickhead made sure of that.
Which reminds me. I have plans for that asshole.
Tomorrow, when I tell Gwen I need to head out early to pick up her present, I’m going to track that bastard down and give him a real good reason to leave the state.
I don’t want him anywhere near my woman again.
Just listening to her tonight, I can tell that he still causes her trouble. I will not allow that to continue.
My focus snaps back when the conversation between Dee, Mark, and Rebbie finally turns to why they’re really here. Pratt turns it up. I secretly grab my cell and start it recording, too. I don’t trust anyone, and if this surveillance tape somehow disappears, I want a fucking backup.
“Are you sure they will all be at Horse’s house tomorrow?” Dee asks.
My stomach tightens as I listen to the evil voice of the woman who once carried my child inside her body. Jesus.
“Yeah,” Rebbie says. “Some kind of family dinner. I’m supposed to go with Knife, but I’ll get conveniently sick.”
Mark snorts. “So how are we taking them out?”
I go still. I knew what they were planning. Yet, hearing it firsthand is something else entirely.
“We already talked about this,” Dee says casually. Too casually. God, the woman really is a monster. “Horse’s place has gas appliances and heat. We’ll cause a gas leak. They’ll die quietly.”
Rebbie grunts. “Not sure that’s going to work. If one or two start dropping, someone will get smart and open the doors or windows. I can’t afford for this not to work. I wanted Knife to take over the club, but after talking with you two, splitting the money three ways makes more sense.”
“Why should we let you have any of it?” Mark asks.
“Because, doofus,” Rebbie says smoothly, “if you don’t, I sing. You’ll never see a dime when you’re facing multiple murder charges.”
“You’ll be charged too,” Dee snaps.
Rebbie laughs. “Nope. I didn’t plan a damn thing. I was just a concerned friend who overheard a conversation and reported it. Sadly, I heard it all too late to save anyone—even the man I’ve devoted the last seven years of my life to.”
“Fucking cunt,” Knife hisses beside me. I slap him on the back for support, but my attention is more on the conversation than anything else.
Dee laughs. “Damn. You’re a bigger bitch than me.”
“I learned from the best,” Rebbie laughs, her voice grating on every nerve I have as my hands curl into fists.
“What if we ignite it on a delay?” Dee continues. “Gas leak, then boom. Any evidence disappears.”
“I like it,” Rebbie says immediately. “Do you know how to do that?”
“I do. You can find all kinds of shit on YouTube,” Mark interjects.
“Now, there’s only one problem,” Rebbie adds.
“What’s that?” Dee asks.
“Caleb will be there.”
The silence that follows is heavy. Even through the wire, I can feel it. I expect hesitation. A debate. Something. Hell, anything to show that the mother of my child isn’t eviler than Satan himself would be helpful. All hope dies with her next words.
“We’ll have to kill him too.”
My vision tunnels, my breath stops cold in my fucking chest, and the acid in my stomach boils.
“Damn, Dee,” Mark replies, and even he sounds shocked. “That’s your kid.”
I can hear her exhale and, for some stupid reason, I think she’s going to change her mind—somehow show that she’s human. I’m an idiot.
“I’m too young to be saddled with a child.
I only had him to trap Horse into claiming me.
After their deaths, I can claim the life insurance on Caleb—plus Horse has a policy on himself and Caleb too.
I’m still the beneficiary on those. I’m going to use that money to travel.
Maybe eventually, we can do a celebration of life or something. Caleb would like that.”
Something inside me breaks with those words.
“Fucking hell,” I choke out, my voice thick.
“That’s my kid’s mother.” My hands are shaking.
My whole body is shaking. Dee is planning our son’s murder like she’s talking about canceling a dinner reservation.
I fumble for the handle and then shove the door open—barely making it out in time to throw up onto the pavement below.
I’ve never felt like this before in my life. I feel sick all the way to my soul.
Pratt hands me a bottle of water without saying a word.
I rinse my mouth, spit, and shut the door, then I force myself to breathe.
We listen as they keep talking. They continue to plan and go into detail on exactly how to ignite the gas line so that it kills us all—Gwen.
My brothers. My innocent child. They talk about it like they’re discussing the fucking weather.
The motherfucking weather!
When the conversation finally slows, Pratt lifts his radio. “Move in. Grab them outside, away from other patrons. Read each of them their rights. I want this fucking case airtight.”
“Copy that,” the voice on the other side of the two-way radio says.
Pratt looks at Knife and me. “You can watch, but I don’t want you to say anything. You’ll get time in the holding cell while an officer is present if you have shit you want to get off your chest. Fair?”
Knife’s jaw is tight. “I don’t need to say shit. But she’s wearing a cut I gave her. I want it back so I can cut her name off and burn it.”
Pratt nods. “Your child?”
“Back in Connecticut with Rebbie’s parents. Strange enough, they’re good people. This will gut them. I’ll get my daughter once there’s an emergency custody order in place.”
“I’ll push the orders tonight,” Pratt says. “Both of you need to have your lawyers ready.”
We nod. The club’s attorney is already set. That won’t be an issue.
What happens next is all a blur. Handcuffs.
Shouting. Dee is constantly screaming until she looks up to see me.
Then, she goes silent. I spit in her direction and turn away.
Knife follows me. I go straight to my bike, which is parked a short walk away.
I mount it and ride out. I don’t watch them haul Dee in.
I don’t want to look at her. She’s dead to me.
I’ll see her in court. All I want now is home. Gwen. Caleb. Buddy.
My family.
That’s all I need. Gwen will heal me. If anyone can, it’s her. She’s my miracle. I need her now more than ever.