23. Char
CHAR
The sheriff offered me a cold water bottle, so I took it.
“Thanks,” I said with a sniffle.
“No bother,” Nielson said as he sat down at the table across from me.
I cracked open the bottle and was thankful to have something else to focus on.
With my eyes both puffy and red, I wasn’t sure I had any more tears to cry.
The well finally ran dry, much to my dismay.
So having that water to chug down gave me an excuse to dry them up.
I drew in deep breaths before gulps. I felt Nielson’s gaze on me as I drained the bottle until it crinkled in my hand.
Even as the icy burn held my throat hostage.
Even as my swallowing grew slower because of the cold.
I enjoyed the sensation. The distraction. The ability to give myself a moment to think.
Until that woman dragged a chair up to my side.
“It’s okay, it’s just me,” Marcie said softly as she sat beside me.
So close to me, in fact, that her knee graced mine.
I stared down at our connection as I held the empty bottle in my hand. How odd. She sat so close to me. Her body heat practically blanketed me in this weird sort of chokehold. My body froze. I barely got the water bottle to touch down on top of the table in front of me.
“Here we go,” the sheriff grunted as he raised up, catching the bottle before it tipped over, “I can get that.”
“Thanks,” I whispered.
“You okay?” Marcie asked as she placed her hand on my knee.
I wanted to yank it off. I wanted her to stop touching me.
Every ounce of my being wanted to grab her by her neck and fucking shake her until it snapped.
Why did she sit so close to me? Why the hell did she insist on touching me?
It felt so odd, and out of place. I was interrogated many times over the course of my father’s investigation and subsequent trial.
No one ever sat beside me. Well, not like her anyway.
Not touching me. Not rubbing my knee with their thumb.
It felt territorial, almost.
I didn’t like it one fucking bit.
“We can start whenever you’re ready, okay?” Marcie asked as she looked over at me.
I raised my head and stared across the table at the sheriff. “Ready for what?”
Nielson nodded. “For talking. Because when you do start talking, you need to tell us everything that you know about these men.”
“Exactly,” she said.
I looked over at Marcie before my head panned back to the sheriff. “I don’t—I don’t even know where to begin.”
Marcie squeezed my knee. “Just start at the beginning. That’s always a good place, if nothing else.”
I nodded. “Right, right. The beginning.”
I swallowed hard before I peered over at her. “You were right, you know.”
She tilted her head. “About?”
“All of them. All of those… those men.”
“Unfortunately, I know,” she said as she picked up her hand from my knee and reached out for my hand.
I hated how I had to let her take it. “You were right about them wanting to sleep with me. About them wanting to—to keep me around or whatever. And I wasn’t having any of that. No thank you.”
She blinked. “I figured as much. I saw the way they watched you. It doesn’t shock me one damn bit.”
It doesn’t? “What else do you wanna know?”
She scooted her chair so close that both of her knees pressed into the outside of my thigh. “What do you know about them, specifically?”
I paused. “I’m not following.”
“You know,” she said as she wafted her free hand around in the air between us, “just personable stuff. Did they ever tell you anything? Talk about what they did for work? Spill any club secrets?”
“Club secrets?” I asked.
“Maybe some more pointed questions might help,” Sheriff Nielson said.
Marcie whipped her gaze toward him, and they held one another’s stare for a while. I wasn’t sure why, either.
“He’s right,” she said as she drew in a deep breath and turned back to me, “I’m being much too vague with my questions.”
“It’s okay,” I said softly.
That’s when Marcie came at me from another direction. “Tell me about their Enforcer.”
There was a term I hadn’t heard before. “Enforcer?”
“The big one,” Nielson said. “You know, the one that doesn’t always talk much? Kinda looms over everyone? The big, broad shoulders?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Granite, or something?”
The woman snickered. “You mean, Gauge?”
So she knows their names. “Ah, him.”
“Yes, him,” she said as she patted the top of my hand, “what about him?”
I found it interesting that he was the first one she mentioned. “Like you said, doesn’t talk much. Just kind of sits and stares, unless the contractors at the bar need something.”
“What do you mean?” Marcie asked.
I leaned back in my chair. “I don’t know. I mean, the guys run a tight ship at the bar. Or they used to, it’s closed right now for business until further notice.”
“Do you know why?”
I lied and shook my head, hoping that she bought it. “Like you said, that big guy doesn’t talk much. Just kind of stares until the one with gray in his hair barks orders. You know, the one you’ve got handcuffed?”
“Yeah, that’s Deacon, their President.”
Interesting. “Who’s the other guy with him?”
Marcie snickered. “A disgusting little man by the name of Rat, and he’s as gross as you’d think with his name.”
I wanted to slaughter her for that. Rat was my friend. He had been through so much, and suffered so greatly, and to hear her talk about him like that made me damn near murderous.
Nielson had to tap my shin beneath the table just to level me out, for fuck’s sake.
You’ll pay for talking about him like that.
“What about their operations?” the eager woman asked as she gripped my hands with both of hers. “Do you know anything about those?”
“Maybe we should slow this down and start with some basic questions,” Sheriff Nielson said.
Marcie tightened her grip on my hands. “This is important, Char. These men? They’re dangerous. They’re hurting people. Good people. And we need to get them off the street.”
“You’re hurting me,” I whimpered.
“That’s enough, Agent Dickerson,” Nielson said.
She didn’t listen, though. She just kept talking quicker. “Charlotte, just tell me what you’ve heard. I know you’ve overheard something. Those men are always around you. They stare you down like a pack of wolves. Even if you don’t think it’s important, I know you’ve heard something.”
“That’s enough,” the sheriff said as he stood to his feet.
“Agent Dickerson, stop. Please,” I said as tears crested my eyes.
She actually hurt me, and I really needed her to let me go.
“Agent Marcie!” Sheriff Nielson bellowed.
She gasped as she yanked her hands away from mine.
I wrung them in my lap, trying to get the throbbing to dissipate as the sheriff wrapped around and grabbed my chair.
He turned me away from Marcie, thank heavens, and turned me toward him.
He crouched down and cupped my hands in his, studying them as he concentrated on his breathing.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
He was regrouping, and I’m so glad that he took me on that journey with him.
“I’m sorry,” Marcie said breathlessly behind me.
I heard her stand up before she walked over to the other side of the room.
Nielson stood up, staring me down with a pretty blank stare.
I expected some sort of reaction. Some sort of head nod or guiding look with his eyes.
A knowing glance. A sly grin. Anything to tell me that we were on the right track.
But all he did was move away from me so that he could sit back down in his rightful place.
“It’s okay,” I said as I turned my chair back to the table, “I know this is important to you.”
“Not at your expense,” she said breathlessly.
At least I’m still a weakness. “They don’t really do a lot of talking.”
Marcie turned to face me. “They don’t?”
I shook my head. “They really don’t. There’s a guy called Duke, or Dance. Something. I don’t know, I can’t remember their names. It’s all been just… a blur, you know? A big, nasty blur since Mom’s funeral.”
“I’m so sorry,” Marcie and the sheriff murmured together.
I cleared my throat. “They’re really adamant about the staff keeping their heads down, though. They don’t entertain a lot of questions because they don’t allow us to ask many.”
The woman looked at me for a while before she folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t believe that for a second.”
My face paled. Had I been caught? “What?”
She tilted her head. “I know for a fact that you’ve slept with Dallas, so don’t give me that shit about not knowing his name.”
I tilted my head toward the ceiling and shook my head. “Why is it that everyone believes that a woman wants to know everything about a man before she sleeps with him? Like women are the emotional creatures around here when we’ve got?—”
Marcie scoffed. “Save me the stereotypical diatribe?—”
I leapt to my feet and whipped toward her. “Then stop stereotyping me into whatever the fuck you feel a woman should know and have at her disposal before she fulfills a basic biological function.”
Marcie stared me down, so I tossed my hands into the air and really leaned into what I was saying.
“Look, I’m lonely, all right?” I said as I flopped back down into my chair. “It’s not my finest moment, sleeping with…”
I waved my hand out to the woman and she rolled her eyes. “Dallas.”
I pointed at her. “Bingo. That guy. I always want to call him Duke.”
“Focus,” Marcie practically hissed.
I shoved my tongue into my cheek. “It’s not my crowning honor, sleeping with Dallas. But he was kind to me when it happened. That counts for a hell of a lot in my world.”
Marcie snickered. “It’s easy for men like them to be kind when they want something. But if you get in their way just once? You’re as good as dead.”
Sounds more like you than me. “I was pretty against them owning the bar at first.”
She paused. “At first?”
I nodded as I looked down at my hands in my lap. “I got close with the prior owner. Miss Lilly? She gave me a job when I honest to fuck wasn’t qualified to take it on. But she trained me on the fly, and allowed me to learn at my own pace.”
“Miss Lilly’s a hell of a woman,” Sheriff Nielson said.
I swallowed hard. “And then they just came in and ruined… everything. Miss Lilly gave me the space above the bar to live in. She was always generous to me on my paychecks so that I could afford what little furniture I do have. Then that pack of wolves show up and all of a sudden she’s gone and?—”
“It’s okay,” Marcie said as she eased herself back down into the chair beside me, “take your time.”
Yeah, and we all know how you feel about that.
“When I figured out that they paid her five million dollars for that bar, though, I couldn’t blame her.
I would’ve taken that money in a heartbeat and ran for the hills.
Started a new life for myself. Somewhere where no one recognized my face or anything. ”
I stared over the sheriff’s shoulder and found my gaze locked with the cement block wall.
“The payment sent her into early retirement,” I murmured. “It was actually kind of nice of them.”
“Charlotte.”
I sighed as I closed my eyes. “Yes?”
Marcie placed her hand on my shoulder. “These men are murderers, Charlotte. They sell guns that kill people for a living.”
Nielson held his hand out to me. “Are you sure we should be?—”
My eyes widened. “Like a mobile gun store? Really? That’s what they do?”
Marcie snarled. “Why you little?—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Nielson exclaimed.
The second she flinched, I was up out of my chair.
The anger in her eyes was prevalent, and as she lunged toward me, I stood and moved off to the side.
My jaw unhinged as I watched Nielson damn near flip that fucking metal table out of his way to wrap his arms around the federal agent.
The one who was supposed to be put together. Professional. Level-headed.
My God, it took every ounce of effort I had to look horrified and not pleased.
“Agent Dickerson! Calm yourself!” Nielson grunted.
The woman continued to buck her feet into the air. “A gun store! What do you think I am, a fucking idiot!? You’re lying! All of you are fucking lying! There’s no fucking way no one knows nothing in this piece of shithole town!”
Nielson shoved her toward the door. “That’s my piece of shithole town you’re talkin’ about right now, and if you don’t pipe down and screw your head on straight, my first phone call is going to be to your superior.”
“Yeah?” she asked as she glared at me, running her hands down the front of her shirt. “Well you go right on ahead. I can’t wait to tell them that every single one of you is lying for a pack of wild animals out here in the desert. I bet my superior would love a phone call about that.”
God, the woman was a fucking piece of work.
She wanted to save me so badly and get to my men so much that she was compromising every ounce of her professionalism in order to do it.
It was so easy to play into an emotional hand like that.
I wrapped my arms around myself and backed toward the far wall.
I watched as Marcie and Nielson continued to argue, like two toddlers in need of a mother that wasn’t anywhere to be found.
It almost pained me, though, that we didn’t record any of this, because I would have given anything to have a copy of it on record for my own personal enjoyment.
“I think you need to remember who you’re speaking with!” Marcie exclaimed.
Sheriff Nielson loomed over her, ripping me out of my thoughts. “And I think you need some fresh air before I arrest you for harassment, Agent Dickerson.”
She scoffed. “Your charges would never hold.”
He closed the distance between them, looming over her by a good six inches. “Doesn’t mean I won’t throw you in that holding cell along with those men until your boss gets here.”
I waited for her quip. I waited for her to shoot back. But when she peeked over at me, for just a millisecond, her shoulders relaxed.
“You’re right,” she said as she reached for the doorknob, “I think I need some fresh air.”
And as the door closed behind her, I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face.
Especially when the sheriff gave me a thumbs up as well.