Chapter 4 #2
Decker closes his eyes and lets out a long, deep breath. Then he jerks Murphy away from the wall and shoves him towards the door. “Get the fuck out of here before I lose my temper.”
Murphy stumbles through the open cell without looking back and disappears through the side door leading to the stairs.
With a silent breath out, I will the storm of nerves still twisting in my gut to calm.
Across the cell, Decker watches me, his posture slowly relaxing and the anger etched into his features melting away.
He’s different from what I remember. There’s an edge to him now—a hardened exterior, an air of violence he didn’t have before. The clean and pristine, straight-edged boy scout I knew as a teenager now doesn’t seem all that different from the men who raised me.
Except this man has a badge and a gun, and my hands are still locked behind my back. This type of scenario has historically not worked out for my family.
He approaches, and despite how badly I want to cower in this corner, I push to my feet and stand my ground.
Never let ’em see you sweat.
“Turn around,” he says.
I scoff, trying like hell to keep my knees from trembling. “Like I’d give you my back.”
With a sigh, he reaches around me, pulling my chest against his, practically hugging me as he fiddles with my cuffs.
He smells like Old Spice, peppermint, and coffee.
A light scruff dusts his chiseled jaw, his nostrils edged with blood from my well-aimed hit.
He keeps his eyes locked with mine as he works to release me.
Brown eyes. No, amber. The colour of a dark whiskey, with little orange flecks decorating his irises.
I swallow. They’re nice eyes. Like his face. Decker’s always been easy to look at, until he opens his mouth, that is.
When the restraints binding my wrists open, I resist the urge to rub my sore, bruised skin.
Taking a step back, he tilts his head. “You still punch like a girl.”
The comment brings with it a memory of the last time I saw him.
Ten years ago. The moment before my world was turned upside down and I was ripped from my home.
My mom was half dead in the hospital, Jimmy was packing our bags, and Decker had just slapped a pair of handcuffs on Axe.
I was a pissed-off sixteen-year-old girl with a hell of a punch, thanks to my upbringing.
Decker’s face just happened to be within swinging distance.
“And you still bleed like one,” I bite out. “I think it was your lip I got last time, though.”
He chuckles, but when I don’t smile, he sighs. “I’m not your enemy, Grace.”
I lift my chin, certain the tender spot where Allen slammed me into the doorframe is already bruising. “Tell that to my face.”
“I didn’t know he was gonna do that, all right? Let me see.” He reaches out a hand.
Before he can touch my cheek, I dodge him. “I don’t need another cop putting his hands on me tonight.”
He rakes his fingers through his hair and lets out another sigh as he shifts back again. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks sorry. “Right. Well… you’re safe now,” he says. “That won’t happen again.”
Irritation sparks in my chest. “Suppose you want me to thank you for coming to my rescue?”
“Was just doing what’s right.”
“Lincoln Decker. Forever the boy scout.”
He gives me a half smile, but there’s no joy behind it. “You’ve been gone a long time, Gracie.”
“Not long enough. Can I leave now?”
A sigh escapes him, his chest deflating. “I can’t authorize your release. OPP’s got jurisdiction.”
“What the hell you keeping me here for?” I ask, temper flaring. “I didn’t do anything. And why’s OPP so interested in a small-town traffic stop?”
“It’s complicated. And you punched me in the face. They’re more interested in that. So, yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ll have to wait for your lawyer.”
My heart sinks. “I don’t have a lawyer.”
“No, but Axe does.” He wanders towards the cell door. “Woman’s a damn pain in my ass.”
“He doesn’t know I’m here, Linc.” I wince. “No one’s coming for me.”
“He knows,” he mutters as he slams the door shut.
I want to scream. Or stomp my foot. Or find something that isn’t bolted to the floor and chuck it at Decker’s stupid face.
Gritting my teeth, I drop back down onto the bench, cross my arms, and scowl.
Decker settles behind the small desk outside my enclosure, kicks up his feet, dips the chair back, and closes his eyes.
“You’re just gonna sit there?” I bite.
He sighs, his eyes still shut. “Yes, Grace. As long as you’re in that cell, my ass will be in this chair.”
I chew at the inside of my mouth. “Well… how long’s that gonna be?”
He drags his hands down his face and angles his chair up to glare at me. “It’ll be as long as I say, okay?”
I jiggle my leg, nerves creeping in. “When do I get my bike back?”
“I don’t know.”
“I really have to pee.”
He drops his forehead onto the desk with a groan. “There’s a toilet four feet to your left.”
A rusty, dirt-covered toilet anchored to the cell wall. No thank you. “I’ll go on the floor before I use that thing.”
“You do that.”
“Don’t be an asshole.”
Head lifted, he gives me his signature charming smile. “But I’m so good at it.”
The words have barely left his mouth when the angry shout of a woman reverberates across the jail.
Cursing, he pushes up from his chair. “Here we fucking go.”
“What was that?” I dart to my feet and stride to the cell bars. Is there another woman down here being subjected to the same kind of interrogation I was about to be?
“Reinforcements,” Decker mutters. “Donovan sent his attack dog.”
The shouting continues, every other word a curse, followed by the clack of high heels against concrete.
A woman wearing black boots and a knee-length beige coat emerges from the door leading to the stairs. From here it looks like the only thing she’s got on underneath is a short black slip. Her dark hair is pulled back into a low bun. And she looks angry as all hell.
“Decker,” she grits as she crosses her arms.
His smile widens. “Always a pleasure, Triss. Love the outfit.”
“Don’t flirt with me.” With a sneer at him, she turns my way, her eyes sharpening. “Grace, I take it?”
“Um.” I glance at Decker. “Yes?”
Brows pulled together, she approaches. “What happened to your face? Is that a bruise?” She rounds on Decker, throwing a thumb over her shoulder. “Is that a bruise on my client’s face?”
“Wouldn’t know anything about that,” he says, wearing an unconvincing look of innocence.
Triss’s features twist into an even icier expression. “Release her.”
“Mmm. No.”
“Is she being charged, or are you just trying to push a couple buttons tonight?” she asks.
The far door swings open, and the cop who used my face as a door stopper walks in.
When Officer Murphy follows closely on his heels, I clench my fists, the stress of my night creeping into my muscles.
Decker sighs loudly, the sound echoing off the dank walls. “Jesus, Murphy. Just had to go running to daddy.”
Murphy shrugs, looking sheepish.
The other man shoots Decker a glare. “You and I are gonna have some words.”
“And you are?” Triss asks, raising an eyebrow.
He gives her a once over and sneers. “Detective Sergeant Remy Allen. Donovan really sent a woman to handle his business?”
She breaks into a stiff smile. “My client, Sergeant Allen. I’d like her released.”
“You can have her once we process her.”
“The charges?”
“Assault of a peace officer.”
I grit my teeth. “You hit first, asshole.”
Triss’s eyes snap to me. “Grace. Don’t speak.” She moves her attention back to Allen. “And this… officer she assaulted?”
He jerks his head to Decker. “He’s lucky he doesn’t have a concussion.”
Triss huffs. “And OPP cares about Officer Decker’s face, because?”
“I’m told it’s a really nice face,” Decker says.
“And my client?” She holds a hand out, gesturing to me. “What about her face?”
Allen shrugs, looking smug. “We attempted to restrain her. She resisted. Must have happened during the shuffle.”
“I think what happened here, Sergeant Allen, is that two male police officers got a little rough with a woman on a back road in the middle of the night, and when she defended herself, one of you got your feelings hurt and took it out on her face. You’ve got, what?
Almost a foot on her?” She eyes Decker, then assesses me.
“You expect me to believe she got the drop on you? Girl her size? Where’s your bruise? ”
“Guess Grace doesn’t hit all that hard,” he says, a little humour lacing his tone.
I scoff. “Why don’t you take that badge off, and we can go throw down in the parking lot? I’ll show you how hard I can hit.”
A slow smile curves up his face. “Oh, I would like that very much.”
Triss throws me another warning look, and I bite down on my tongue.
“We’re done here,” she says. “Release her, or I will drag you both, by name, all over the six-o’clock news.
I can see the headline now. ‘Asshole Cops Under Investigation after Assault on Woman.’” She pulls out her phone and taps the screen.
“Should I get a picture of the three of you together? Let’s see that bruise, Grace. ”
“We’re not scared of some lawyer bitch,” Allen says.
“You should be,” she responds seriously. “You can’t rough up a young woman just because of her last name without facing consequences. And I don’t fight with my fists, Sergeant; I fight with the law. From what I can tell, you’re looking pretty good for assault. Which I will proceed with.”
Allen scoffs, though a hint of uncertainty flashes in his eyes. “It’s our word against hers. That shit will never stick.”
“You ask Decker how many of his fellow officers have been put on temporary administrative leave because of my shit. Does South Bay PD really need more bad press?”
Decker throws Allen a look, and the two have a very tense, silent argument.
After a moment, Allen’s nostrils flare. “Fine,” he practically growls. “You win tonight. But you tell Donovan I’m coming for him.”
“When can I get my bike back?” I blurt.
A smug smile stretches across his face. “That’ll have to remain here until the registered owner comes to claim it. A Mr. Jimmy Donovan.”
Shit . I am in so much goddamn trouble.
Allen turns on his heel and takes his leave, Murphy scuttering close behind him.
Without hesitation, Decker opens the cell door and motions for me to follow Triss.
“You’re welcome,” he calls out when we’re halfway across the room.
Whipping around, I flip him off—with both hands—and mouth fuck you as Triss drags me towards the door.
Much to my irritation, the gesture only makes Decker smile. Asshole.
Outside the station, I’m quickly pushed into the passenger seat of a small grey Camry.
“Fucking cops,” Triss mutters as she shifts into drive. “What did you tell them?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Nothing. Obviously.”
“Right. Of course,” she says with a shake of her head. “Well, it’s good to meet you, Grace. I’m Triss.”
“Jack’s old lady.”
“That’s right.”
“Well… thanks for all that.” I rub at my wrists. “How’d you know I was here?”
She flips her signal and navigates towards the west end of town. “Decker texted.”
“Decker?” I ask, my breath catching. “Why the hell would a cop tell Axe’s lawyer I’m in lockup?”
“Oh, he… uh—” Triss chews on her lip, side-eyeing me, then focusing on the road again.
Despite her lack of response, I already know the answer to my question.
“Is Decker working for the Sinners?” I ask.
“Um. No.” She cringes. “Well. Sort of.”
“There’s no way.” I did not have Decker being in my brother’s pocket on my South Bay homecoming bingo card.
Triss fidgets in her seat and lets out a sigh. “Maybe we can keep that little fact between us girls? I wasn’t supposed to mention it.” She gives me a tight smile. “Sometimes when I’m tired, I talk too much. I was in bed when I got Decker’s text.”
“I see that.” I take in her short lacy black slip. “I can’t see a world where Lincoln Decker is on the same team as my brothers. It’s just so… not him.”
“From what I understand, it wasn’t completely by choice.”
Curiosity piqued, I shift to face her. “Axe has something on him?”
She shrugs. “I guess. Look, Axe is gonna want to know what went on in that cell and where that bruise came from. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to stay at the clubhouse tonight, so I had Jack make up a room at our place. It’s… much cleaner. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”
“Thanks.”
“I was surprised to learn you were in town. Jack too.” She glances over quickly. “Happy surprised, though.”
“It was sort of a last-minute thing,” I say as I peer out the window at my old town.
I didn’t plan to come back. In fact, I’ve been desperately trying not to.
But that’s what I am now. Desperate. I may have walked away from the South Bay Sinners ten years ago, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a hell of a lot of trouble that followed me back here.
I’m just hoping I can get myself out of it before it gets me killed.
The Sinner clubhouse comes into view, and the knot that’s been twisting in my stomach since those cherries flashed in my rearview tightens. It pulls taut when a long-haired, six-foot-something silhouette comes into focus.
Jack.
The moment I climb out of the car, I’m pulled into a chest-crushing, lung-squeezing bear hug.
“Hey, big brother,” I choke out.
Jack drops me to my feet and holds me at arm’s length, a wide smile splitting his face. “Hey, Gracie. Welcome home.”