Chapter 27
Out of uniform, I hunch over my desk, shoving what’s left of my sandwich into my mouth.
I’m tired and pissed off, and my OT was definitely not approved, so all the paperwork I’ve just caught up on was on donated time.
But I can’t leave. Not with Allen still here and Kat sitting in a cell.
I don’t trust him not to pull some shady shit.
Though he’s been pretty by-the-book since we got back here.
It makes sense. One misstep—excessive force, mishandling of evidence, abuse of process—and any charges against Kat could be easily dropped.
He’s got to play this right and within the law. As within the law as possible given how he came to lay these charges in the first place.
“You ever sleep, Decker?”
Forcing a smile, I glance up at the asshole himself. “About as much as you do.”
He drops into the spot next to me, his feet kicked up on Miller’s desk.
He’s proud of himself. Axe went fucking ballistic when we arrested Kat.
Stormed in here, yelling, throwing around threats.
If I hadn’t stopped him, he’d have taken a swing at Allen and gotten himself locked up right alongside his woman.
It’s what Allen wanted. The Sinner prez an angry, emotional mess. Pissed off enough to make a mistake. We’ve thrown a lot at the Sinners this last month. And I’ll give it to Donovan. The man kept his cool. But throwing his girl in cuffs? That was a hell of a move.
“You should go home,” Allen says. “Got a briefing with your chief and Detective Inspector Morgan in the morning, and I want you there.”
My spine straightens. “Briefing about what?”
He grins. “You’ll see. Depends on how tonight goes. But let’s just say Donovan’s number two isn’t gonna sleep as well as we do tonight.”
The weight already sitting in my stomach drops. But I keep my shit together by some miracle. Leaning back in my chair, I toy with my pen, tone even. “Why don’t you fill me in now? And while you’re at it, you can tell me where you got those drugs you dropped in Kat Danforth’s car.”
Allen goes still, his glare hardening. An alpha-bitch-boy stare down. This. Fucking. Guy. I might actually hate him more than I hate Axe. Especially after the way he handled Grace. How hard he squeezed her arm. The way she flinched, the pain flickering across her features.
I barely caught myself. It was shocking how quickly it happened. The fury, the rage-filled, blood-boiling anger storming through me. The kind that makes me really want to kill someone.
And yeah, I kind of want to fucking kill this guy.
“Careful how you talk to me,” Allen says, voice thick with warning. “That’s a hell of an accusation.”
I smile, and the muscles in his neck tense. “Relax, Sarge. I’m on board, you know that. Whatever it takes. But I don’t like surprises. Next time you pull that shit, I expect a heads-up. And an assurance this shit can’t be traced back to you. To us .”
Us . We’re a team, him and me. Buddies. Ready to break the law for the greater good.
He scrutinizes me, his fury waning. “I’m careful. Our hands are clean. And in terms of McKenna, I’ll fill you in once it’s done. All the gritty details. So long as you can stomach it.”
The slow smile I let crawl up my face is painful. Fuck. This sounds like a lot more than shady police work and a little planted evidence. This sounds like a hit. Like maybe Jack’s about to find himself locked in a cell with a couple guys looking to take the Sinners down a notch or two.
“I can stomach anything, but like you said, clean hands. Whatever you got planned better not come back on us.” I need him to say it, to tell me what he’s done.
I angle closer, dropping my voice. “And I mean both with the chief and with the Sinners. Donovan catches wind of you taking out his number two, he will fucking kill you. Cop or not.”
He drops his feet to the ground and scowls. “I’m not a fucking idiot, Decker. There are plenty of men in those cells just waiting to get a crack at McKenna. All I did was set up a scenario. It’s up to them how they want it to end. But they will end it.”
I nod once. “All right. And this briefing?”
“Telling the morons running the show about McKenna’s unfortunate accident will put them both in a good mood. The only good Sinner is a dead Sinner.”
My stomach roils. This whole fucking thing is spiraling out of control, and I don’t know how to shut it down. I gotta call this. End it before he drags me further into this mess. But first, I need to get a message to the Sinner VP.
Allen pushes up and stares at me a long moment. Like he’s trying to read me, crack open my head and see my thoughts.
I stare back.
After a moment, he chuckles, claps my shoulder, and wanders away. Once he’s exited the building, I launch myself out of my seat and sprint through the station to the back exit. I need to get to my burner. Warn Axe before his VP gets slaughtered.
I jump in my truck and speed home, taking corners too quick, weaving in and out of traffic. I practically yank my door off its hinges when I storm inside, my first stop the ceiling cache in the kitchen.
Only it’s already open, the vent pried off.
“Fucking Grace.” I jump onto the counter and reach inside the hole in the ceiling. My burner is still exactly where I left it. Thank fuck. I’ll fucking deal with Grace when this is over. The woman’s got no goddamn boundaries.
I power on the device. It vibrates as a slew of angry messages comes through, all from Axe. All laced with some kind of threat on my life. I dial him, and he picks up on the first ring.
“You mother fucker,” he snarls, his voice so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “You release her right the fuck now, or I’ll?—”
“Shut up and listen. Jack isn’t safe. Allen’s planning something, and it’s going down tonight.”
The line is silent for a beat. Then he says, “Graves is in lockup with half a dozen other Sinners already doing time. He’s as safe as he’d be out on the street. Safer, maybe. We practically run that place. You trying to pull my attention from what you did? Don’t think I won’t?—”
“Axe,” I grit, squeezing the phone hard enough I’m surprised it doesn’t break. “I’m not fucking around. Call whoever you got on your payroll in there and get my fucking brother into solitary. Right the fuck now.”
The air between us goes silent again. Then Axe says, “Fine. But know this shit with Kat isn’t fucking over.”
When the line goes dead, I release a long breath and rest a hip against the countertop. It’s then I notice the note. A quick scrawl across a torn envelope from the stack of mail sitting by the door.
I’m so sorry. I wish I could explain. Don’t look for me.
XO G
PS I’m sorry if your bike doesn’t make it back to you.
I read it again. And then again. Ten more times. Heart in my throat, blood rushing in my ears. I hoist myself back onto the counter and pat around inside the open vent. I grit my teeth. Coke and money are gone. Gun gone.
I’m sorry if your bike doesn’t make it back to you.
Clenching my fists, I jump down and then storm out of the house and into the garage. There’s an open space where my pretty black bike should be.
That little?—
Deep fucking breaths.
My bike is gone. And Grace is too. She took what she’d been looking for—drugs, cash, and a fucking gun—stole my wheels, and then left.
Left me.
I know she doesn’t really owe me anything. It’s been a fucking month. I barely know her. And we didn’t exactly start whatever the hell this is between us on the best of terms.
Grace isn’t mine. Not really. So it shouldn’t feel this gut-wrenching.
I run my hand over my face. An odd sort of tightness presses down on my chest as I take another one of those big breaths, but it’s useless in calming me, at kicking the feeling that I’ve lost something.
No. This isn’t good enough.
Grace wants to run, to walk away and leave a shitstorm of a mess behind, leave me to deal with the men who will eventually come looking for her, then she’s gonna need to say that to my face.
And she’s sorry if my bike doesn’t make it back to me ? Is she fucking for real?
I unlock my phone and pull up my tracking app.
I LoJacked my bike years ago for moments exactly like this one.
Well, maybe not exactly like this. Because I never could have predicted Gracie Donovan.
Impulsive, fiery, full of attitude, stubborn as all hell.
As wild as the flowers marking her skin.
But maybe she’s more like that snake slithering across her thigh than those pretty flowers.
Venomous. Always ready to strike. A true Sinner. Like her brothers.
A snake is still a snake. Even when it’s got a pretty face.
I should have anticipated this.
Feeling this way… feeling… I don’t know. Whatever this is. It was unexpected. This ending shouldn’t be, though, considering how we started.
When the map loads, I expect to find her a few towns over, maybe farther. But she’s still in South Bay. Not ten minutes from my house in farm country. At—I zoom in—the McKinley farm?
The green pin on the map at the abandoned property is stationary. She’s parked. Something gnaws at me. Fuck knows why. I cling to the irritation flaring there too. It makes a hell of a lot more sense.
I arm myself, shoving a handgun in the back of my pants, securing another to my ankle, then shoving a knife in my boot. Then I dial Grace.
No answer. I try again as I jump into my truck and haul ass towards the edge of town.
Fucking woman. Answer your damn phone.
More ringing. And then?—
“Stop calling me,” Grace breathes, voice a near whisper.
“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that. But what I am gonna do is drag that pretty ass back to my house so we can have a proper conversation about why we don’t steal things.”
“Decker, I?—”
The deep growl of a man’s voice somewhere far off makes me pause. “Who are you with? And why are you whispering?”
“Shit,” she murmurs. There’s crackling. A loud bang. The thump of feet hitting the ground. Of yelling. Men yelling.