Chapter 29
I stretch out my legs, searching for a comfortable position in one of the squeaky, sinking chairs in Chief Wells’s office. I’m fidgety, my muscles wound up, my leg bouncing like a spring, coiling tight and then popping back up.
Detective Inspector Morgan sits at a small table to my left, ankle crossed over his knee, balancing an open folder on his lap. Other than a curt nod, he’s offered me no acknowledgement since I arrived ten minutes ago for this briefing Allen wanted me at so badly.
Since I’ve received no calls from Axe this morning notifying me my brother’s dead, I assume the shit Allen had lined up for Jack last night didn’t go as planned. Meaning this meeting is completely fucking pointless.
Morgan finally spares me a glance, his focus falling to my jittering limbs, my twitching fingers rapping against my paper takeaway cup. He sighs through his nose and gives me a long, hard stare. “Something happen to your face, Officer Decker?”
I offer a tight smile, the tender, raw gash on my cheek stretching painfully under its bandage. It’s gonna leave a hell of a scar. “I box a little. Guess one got away from me. Took it in the face pretty good.”
Morgan hums. “Doesn’t look like a boxing injury to me.”
I quirk a brow. “You fight much, sir?”
“Can’t say I do.” Eyes narrowed, he closes the folder and angles towards me. “Do you think that’s an appropriate pastime for a police officer?”
“Think of it as community outreach.”
He grunts. “It’s physical violence against civilians. Which is a liability. Your chief should shut that down.”
“People don’t trust cops, Detective. Letting a few of them have a go at me here and there helps with that. Shows them I’m human, that I bleed just like they do.” I smile. “Plus, chicks dig scars.”
More staring. He’s so still that I’m half tempted to get up and poke him to make sure the man’s still breathing.
It’s too goddamn early for this shit.
Leaning back, I fish my breakfast out of a small paper bag. Then, returning his stare, I bite into the sprinkle-covered pastry I got at Kuppajoe this morning.
“Really, Decker? A patrol cop with a fucking donut? You’re a walking punchline.” Allen’s voice grates on my skull as he walks into the chief’s office.
Wells enters behind him, nostrils flaring when we lock eyes. The chief is almost never happy to see me, but today, he looks extra pissed.
With a grin, I shove a little too much of my breakfast into my mouth. “Sprinkles bring me joy.”
Allen scoffs as he shuts the door. The second that click sounds, the room feels smaller, and that bounce in my leg is back.
I shouldn’t be here. Grace is at my place.
Alone. And while I mostly trust that she’ll refrain from pulling any other stupid plans out of her ass and diving headfirst into another dangerous situation—like taking on a violent biker gang gunning to kill her—I can’t shake the feeling that shit’s about to get a lot worse.
Which means the only place Grace should be is with me.
Instead, I’m here. A world away so long as I’m wearing this uniform.
“Can you guess why we’re here, Decker?” Allen props himself up against the door, arms crossed, muscles bulging, chest a little too puffed. Something’s about to go his way.
“You tell me,” I say. “This is your meeting.”
“Show some respect,” Wells barks.
Allen only grins. He pulls out his phone, taps the screen, and then angles it towards me.
I swallow. Shit. Shiiiiit . I take in a private breath, working to control my emotions, the knot twisting in my stomach.
“You want to describe what’s happening here?” Allen says.
Tilting my head, eyes on the video playing on the screen, I keep my face neutral.
After a moment, I shift my attention back to Allen and straighten my spine.
“Not sure a description is necessary, Sergeant, but if you’re having a hard time figuring it out, I have a couple websites you could explore that might be able to teach you the basics. ”
“Cut the shit,” he snaps. “This is you. Last night. Fucking that biker slut Grace Donovan.”
“Sergeant,” Morgan says sharply. “Let’s keep the profanity to a minimum, please.”
I open and close my fist, willing my temper to stay in check.
Calm the fuck down. There’s a way out of this. There’s always a way out.
I look back at the video.
It’s shit quality. Grainy. Obviously taken from a car.
Allen must have followed me last night. Which means this video could be the least of my worries.
But yeah. That’s me. Bending a mostly naked Grace over my bike.
Grabbing her hair, pounding into her, right before she—I almost fucking smile as I watch her come, me immediately after.
It’s a good video. If it wasn’t being used as an attempt to blow up my career, I’d ask for a copy.
Then I’d fucking slaughter Allen for getting a look at Grace in that state.
No one gets to see her like that but me.
My fingers ghost over my belt, looking for a knife that isn’t there. Right. I’m in uniform. The blades I carry in my off time are all safely at home. But fuck if I don’t want to cut this motherfucker’s eyes out.
“Much as I love a good home movie, I’m not really in the habit of watching porn with other dudes.” I force a dark smile. “You trying to tell me something, Allen? I’ll warn you now. I’m a cuddler. And I’ll expect dinner first.”
His nostrils flare. “You think you’re so goddamn smart, don’t you?”
I lift my head a fraction, keep my fucking cool. “Most days, yeah.”
Morgan clears his throat. “You admit to having a sexual relationship with a known associate of the Soldiers of Sin?”
Angling closer to Allen, I hit the play button again. They’d have a hell of a time proving the man in the video is me. No amount of zooming or enhancing would clean up the quality. But it’s definitely Grace. That much is clear.
“That could be anybody.”
“Is that not your motorcycle in the frame?” Morgan presses. “Outside of your home?”
I shrug. “So?”
Wells slams his fist into his desk. “That’s all you have to say?”
I run my tongue over my teeth, racking my brain for a way to talk myself out of this.
I’m calmer than I should be. My body’s so used to running on adrenaline that shit like this barely fazes me, I guess.
I’m numb. I shouldn’t be, because this could be the end of it.
All my lies. My double life. They start digging, looking a little too close, they’re gonna find a lot more than that shitty video.
I release a breath and smile. “Without my union rep? Yeah. That’s all I’ve got to say.”
“Fine,” Chief Wells says. “Gun and badge, Decker. You’re suspended without pay pending an investigation.”
My heart lurches. “You can’t be fucking serious.”
Allen snorts. “What did you think would happen? You want to stick your dick in that dirty little slut, this is the consequence.”
I’m on my feet before I can stop myself, chair kicking back, my temper about to blow wide open. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“Make me,” he says.
“Decker,” Wells snarls. “Gun. And. Badge. Now.”
My fists ball, but I will them to stay at my sides, no matter how badly I want to pound them into Allen’s face.
I glare at Wells. “Letting this asshole into our town was a mistake, sir. He’s the one who should be under investigation.
He’s used unnecessary force, planted drugs, put out a fucking hit on?—”
“Stop,” Wells says.
My fury only grows. “But he?—”
“Don’t embarrass yourself any more than you already have. Are you gonna relieve yourself of your weapon, or does Sergeant Allen need to do it for you?”
Allen and I have a good thirty-second stare down. While a smile crawls up his smug fucking face, I’m working to keep myself from lunging at him.
He’s won. For now.
With my focused set on the sergeant, I unholster my weapon and hand it to the chief. Then, slowly, I unpin my badge. My lungs constrict. No more numbness. The second that shield leaves my chest, I feel fucking everything.
“Your father would be ashamed of you,” Wells says.
“Maybe. But we both know he’d be ashamed of you too. At what this place has become.”
William Decker wasn’t perfect. And yeah, he took a few things too far. But he had a line, a limit. Cops planting drugs? Breaking the law for some greater good ? He’d have fucking died before stooping so low, before betraying his badge.
Knowing how I turned out, though? Yeah, that would have killed him a lot quicker than the bottle did. In the grand scheme of things, I guess I’m no better.
Without a glance back, I yank open the door and storm out. Miller throws me a questioning nod from his desk, but I shake my head, grab my wallet and keys, and head out to the parking lot. I’m almost at my truck when a deep voice calls my name from across the lot.
Allen.
He catches up with me, and despite every cell in my body screaming at me to attack, I plant my feet firmly into the pavement.
Deep. Fucking. Breaths.
“What the fuck do you want?”
He gives me that smug fucking smile again. “Don’t be so sore. You should be thanking me.”
“Yeah? And why’s that?”
“I kept your secret. Imagine what would have happened if I’d told them what else you’ve been up to.”
Throat closing up, I glare at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I wasn’t sure at first. You put on a good face. And you’re careful. I guess that’s why it’s so hard to catch a dirty cop. You know how we think.”
My heart thunders against my sternum, my stomach dropping like a brick.
Out of habit, I reach to the small of my back, grappling for an invisible gun.
Just like my knives, it’s not there. Not that I’d kill a cop in the parking lot.
Well. Probably not. Guess it depends on how much he knows, how many buttons this fucker is planning to press.