32. Hawg
HAWG
I’m sitting outside of the Harlots’ clubhouse downing a bottle of water, distracted beyond hell, trying to figure out how I’m supposed to protect and safeguard Onyx if she continually insists on safeguarding herself and even trying to protect me.
Never once have I had this problem, but I’ve never once dated a Royal Harlot.
A cop car drives by slowly, circles back and then stops, the officer staring at me from his spot in the parking lot.
There’s nothing in or around this clubhouse that would go against the city ordinance, give or take a few minor violations that no beat cop in his right mind is going to waste their time on.
Protective instincts kick in.
What if he’s on the payroll of the Desert Riders or Scorpions?
Then we have a fucking problem with not only the MC clubs but the police, too.
Which doesn’t make a bit of sense because we haven’t heard one word back from the police after the fire that fatally killed one of the Scorpions’ new recruits.
But there’s no doubt this guy isn’t moving on, and I’m not liking this at all.
So many things could be at play here. He’s still sitting there after another ten minutes. Maybe they’re not on the enemy’s payroll, but maybe on the Larussios’. I mull that around a bit watching the guy watch me from my chair outside the door.
The Larussios may not have a firm grip here in Phoenix, but they have strong connections, and they have us.
They’re sure as fuck making their presence known as they work diligently to take over territory in Arizona.
And the police are still investigating that fuck who put hands on Shine and got what he deserved.
Who knows what this officer wants … so I wait.
The clean-cut, uniformed man gets out of his police car and closes the distance between him and me. He flashes me a badge. “I’m looking for a man named Hawg,” he says.
I give him a nod. “You found him. What can I do for you?”
“My partner was out the other night when a bike went up in the alley. I’m just following up on a couple questions that I have.”
“Feel free to take a seat.” I gesture to the two lawn chairs sitting under the wood pergola that have seen better days. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to help much, but I’ll tell you everything that I know about that night.”
He takes a seat next to me. “My brother and I, we’ve both gone different ways in life. His best friend got messed up with a biker gang and my brother went that way too. My dad was a cop, and I followed in his footsteps. As you can imagine, I have a soft spot for both.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
He shrugs. “Maybe I was just hoping that you’d tell me something that could help me. My brother never did and now he’s dead.”
“You have something to do with that?” I ask the uniform.
His dark brown eyes meet mine. “Not a fucking thing, but there’s not a day that goes by that I didn’t wish I could have stepped in and done something more. He was fucking innocent, but because he ran with a notorious MC club, they pinned that fucking murder on him.”
“And your dad?” I ask.
The cop looks out to the distance. “My brother’s death, nobody really fucking knows what happened.”
I nod. “And what do you want from me and my crew?”
The officer is thoughtful for a while. “I know you’re after the Desert Riders. I want to know if they killed my brother. I want some closure, and I can’t go through my father or official channels.”
“And how am I supposed to figure out if they were the ones who killed your brother?”
He leans back in one of the outside rockers. “Let’s just say, if you do, all your past and future indiscretions are wiped clean. If not, let’s just say I’m going to have a hard-on for you.”
“Let’s get one thing straight, I have no fucking indiscretions.”
His eyes lock on mine. “I want you to find out if they killed my brother. If you do, you walk. If not,”—he shrugs—“who knows what evidence may surface that leads them straight to you.”
Fucker.
He’s good, I have to give him that.
I shouldn’t take the bait. They have nothing on me or the Harlots, but I don’t want this prick to go digging into something that could blow back on the ladies, especially Onyx who was just protecting herself from an out-of-control recruit, hell-bent on hurting her friend to get her to drive illegal drugs for him.
Yet there’s always the chance what really happened can get flipped upside down and Onyx would be held responsible for something that wasn’t her fault. Protecting yourself is a fucking right in the state of Arizona and I’m not letting her go down for something that happened outside of her control.
The Desert Rider recruit was blackmailing her best friend, put hands on her, and from what Onyx told me was reaching and had drawn a gun before she hit that bike and let that flare go. “What if I don’t know or can’t get shit about your brother?”
All I get is a sullen look before he stands, hands me a piece of paper with two names and a phone number, and without a word of acknowledgement saunters down the porch steps.
“How do I find you in person?” I call out as he reaches his car.
“You don’t. I have eyes on you and the little ladies.”
The fucker wants me to get to the truth about his family but is not giving me much to go on and at the same time is threatening the ladies?
He shouldn’t have done that because now that I know some of the story, my boys will research it, and we’ll get closer to learning a truth that I have no doubt he doesn’t want us to know.
But whatever it is, he’s been keeping the real helpful details close to the vest. It’s clear to me that he wants someone outside of the police to bring whatever dirty laundry there is about his brother forward.
Why is the question.
I don’t know this fucker from Adam, a new beat cop that I’ve not built a damn bit of trust with. Maybe he’s a real cop, maybe he’s not, maybe he’s a fucking plant.
But it looks like I need to find out…