Midnight Deceit: A Midnight Riders Motorcycle Club Romance Part 3 Page 2

  “I know, I know. Terrible thing. Such a young kid.”

  “Yeah.”

  There was a brief silence as we stared into each other’s eyes. A couple of unasked questions hung in the air:

  Did the Midnight Riders catch up to the gunman?

  And if they did, what did they do to him?

  But Dan didn’t ask.

  Why?

  Because the fucker was letting me know two things:

  Exactly how much he knew… which was everything.

  And how much I was going to have to pay him off.

  “You talk to Lou yet?” I asked, breaking the silence.

  “Yeah, I did. It’s been a rough night, we’re going to take his deposition tomorrow. You, too – just come by the station when you can, huh? And bring – what’s his name, Kade?”

  I was in the clear as far as the shooting, but both Lou and Kade had shot the first Santa Muerte.

  What was the last potential murder case you heard of where the cops let the two main suspects choose when to come in and give their depositions?

  Yeah, I thought so.

  But that’s how it works in Richards after two decades of Midnight Riders rule… and under the grasping hand of Dan Peters, Police Chief.

  “We’re both coming in after I talk to Lou. Kade’s at the hospital right now with Benjy.”

  “Terrible thing,” Peters clucked, and pumped my hand again. “Good to see you, Jack.”

  “Likewise, Dan.”

  My skin crawled as I walked away.

  As far as bad guys go, I vastly preferred Lou to Dan Peters.

  Lou was far more dangerous… but I like it when my adversaries can’t be bought or sold. Makes them more predictable that way.

  6

  I walked into Lou’s office. He was sitting in his chair, feet propped up on the desk, a cigar in one hand, his cell phone in the other.

  “I told you five miles, you retard,” he snapped. “Five miles. Not till you got fuckin’ tired of walking.”

  Jesus H. Christ.

  He was discussing the disposal of a body out in the desert while he was fifty feet away from an active crime scene.

  With virtually the entire Richards PD in the other fucking room.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” I hissed as I shut the door.

  He looked over and made a face, like Don’t you fucking knock?

  “I gotta go. Do what I told you, and don’t come back till you do,” he barked, then hung up and pocketed the phone.

  “Are you… fucking… insane?” I bristled.

  Lou waved me off like I was some pissy little spinster griping about hemlines on the youngsters these days. “Peters is onboard. Stop your worrying.”

  I looked over my shoulder at the closed door, sure that someone was going to be there with a tape recorder. Then I looked back at Lou. “You… fucking… idiot!”

  “Is this about earlier?” he asked as he got up from the desk and ground out the cigar. “That whole… unfortunate business about three hours ago?”

  I pointed at the pocket containing his cell phone. “Actually, it’s about you discussing that ‘unfortunate business’ with twenty fuckin’ cops outside your door.”

  Lou waved off my objection like it was a gnat. “I told you, Peters is onboard.” He looked at me searchingly and shook his head. “No… I think you’re pissed at me.”

  “Ya fuckin’ think?”

  “Look, Jack, I apologize for that. I lost my head. You had every right to punch me. And I apologize for what I said. It was a dick move. You probably thought I was making a play for club leadership, right?”

  I stared at him some more. Rarely do your mortal enemies decide to come clean with the entire game plan.

  Lou shook his head. “Look, we gotta let bygones be bygones. Fuck this squabbling shit, we got bigger problems on our hands.”

  “Like a dead Santa Muerte in your strip club, and another one in the desert?”

  “No. Bigger than that.”

  “What could be worse than the Santa Muertes gunning for us?”

  “Even if they are, I couldn’t give a shit about that right now.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “We got ourselves a mole.”

  7

  Fiona

  I had just walked into my room at 4AM when a stranger shut the door and put a gun at my back.

  He said he just wanted to talk.

  I thought there was a very good possibility that I was going to die.

  Then he revealed he knew I was a private investigator.

  After that, I knew I was going to die.

  Or at least, I knew he was going to try to kill me.

  I ticked through my options.

  I could try to elbow him and rip away –

  But I doubted I could get out of the way before he shot me in the back.

  I could do whatever he wanted, but then I was entirely at his mercy. Maybe he was telling the truth about wanting to just talk. Maybe he wasn’t.

  Then I remembered:

  My .38 revolver.

  It was under the mattress on the other side of the bed.

  8

  Jack

  “What do you mean, a mole?”

  “I mean a goddamn fuckin’ mole. An informant. A traitor in our fuckin’ midst.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Peters clued me in. That’s why he was here – not ‘cause of the shooting, but to give me a heads-up. The shooting was just a convenient excuse.”

  “Why didn’t he say anything to me?”

  “Well, probably because he was surrounded by twenty fuckin’ cops at the time. That, and he knows you hate his fuckin’ guts.”

  I glared at Lou, but I couldn’t exactly deny the charge. “What’d Peters say?”

  “Said he’s got a buddy in Homeland Security.”

  I frowned. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about this ‘buddy’?”

  “I dunno. First I heard of him, too. Maybe he’s like the good china – Peters only brings him out on special occasions. Anyway, dude called sayin’ there was chatter this morning from the fuckin’ DOJ about shit goin’ down in Richards. As in right now.”

  I stared at Lou in shock. “…the Department of Justice?”

  “Yeah,” Lou grunted. “Hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “Was it about the desert?”

  “Peters doesn’t know. All his buddy got was vague generalities. But something tripped the wires about Richards and the club.”

  My stomach sank. “You thinkin’ FBI?”

  “That or the DEA. Maybe the ATF. Either way, it’s shitty for us.”

  “We got out of guns three years ago. If it’s the desert, it’s FBI… if it’s the shipment next Friday – ”

  “DEA,” Lou agreed. “Which could mean they’re watching for Friday’s delivery.”

  “Shit.”

  I started pacing back and forth.

  A mole?!

  What the fuck?! How was this even possible?!

  Every brother in the MC had been thoroughly vetted. The idea that any of them was a traitor was nearly incomprehensible. The very thought turned my stomach.

  “Do you have any idea who it is?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Lou said grimly. “Who’s new in town?”

  I stopped pacing. “What? We haven’t patched anybody in for months, and anybody we did we’ve known for years. You think it was Tommy or – ”

  “I didn’t say it was a guy,” Lou said, his eyes piercing mine.

  It took me a second to get the implication.

  When I did, it fucking floored me.

  “…Fiona?!”

  9

  Lou didn’t say anything. He just stood there watching me.

  “Fiona,” I repeated – like Are you fucking serious?

  Lou shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”

  “That’s – that’s ridiculous.”

  “Chick breezes into to
wn – a chick with a black belt in kung fu or judo or whatever the fuck, to boot. You don’t know shit about her, but she winds up at your body shop askin’ for a job – ”

  “We met because she was a waitress at Charlie’s and got harassed,” I snarled. “How do you explain that one?”

  “Maybe the guy who harassed her was a plant.”

  “That’s – no! That’s fucking crazy!” My mind was racing. “And since she does know Krav Maga, why would a federal agent flaunt it to our faces?”

  “Fuck me if I know. But you stuck her in the middle of my operation,” Lou said, his voice thick with contempt. “That was an interesting play, wasn’t it?”

  I knew what he was getting at.

  He knew I’d placed her here to spy on him.

  I’d felt a little guilty – towards Fiona, not Lou – ever since I’d spent the night with her. Guilty about making her a pawn in Lou’s and my fucked-up game.

  But now I was beginning to wonder if I had been the one who had gotten played. By her.

  No… I couldn’t believe that… this was fucking insane…

  But I couldn’t think about that now. I had to reply to Lou.

  “I couldn’t exactly give her a job as a mechanic,” I snarled, trying to throw up a smokescreen.

  Lou didn’t buy it for a minute. I could see it in his eyes. “Mm-hm. Anyway, interesting that she wound up in the hotbed of everything illegal in the MC, seeing as you’re too dainty these days to get your hands dirty. Directly, anyway.”

  “There shouldn’t be anything illegal going on in the MC,” I raged.

  “Yeah, yeah, argument for another time. Anyway, we got a mole in our midst.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “So why the hell is the DOJ interested in Richards, huh?”

  “It could be anything.”

  “That ‘anything’ would be one hell of a coincidence, considering the timing.”

  “Even if there is a mole, you’ve got no proof it’s Fiona.”

  “No, but it would be another hell of a coincidence if it wasn’t her, wouldn’t it?”

  I had to admit – and I hated to do it – but Lou was making a lot of sense. “So what do we do?”

  “Don’t worry. I took care of it.”

  I felt like a gallon of ice water had suddenly dropped into my chest and stomach. “What do you mean, you took care of it?”

  “I sent somebody over to the motel. He’ll get the truth out of her, one way or another.”

  10

  Fiona

  I remembered Sid’s advice before I left LA:

  And take yer .38. ALWAYS keep it on ya so you always got it on ya.

  I cursed myself for not doing what he said, but there was still a chance.

  If I could get to my gun before the stranger turned the light on –

  His hand tightened around my mouth. “I’m going to let go of your mouth and push you towards the bed. You go over and sit down. You try any of your martial arts shit – yeah, I know all about that – and you’re going to wind up with a bullet through your spine. Understand? Nod yes.”

  I nodded ‘yes.’

  Fifteen feet.

  Fifteen feet to cover between me and the gun.

  Fifteen feet, and maybe I could kill him before he killed me.

  “Alright. On three. One… two – ”

  And then he let go of my mouth and pushed me forward with the gun.

  I stumbled over to the bed, almost did a face-plant on it. Then I remember I needed to get to the other side, so I did do a face-plant and started crawling.

  Goddamn squeaky springs. They squealed up a storm as I bellied across the bed like a World War I soldier in a frontline trench.

  “I thought you said on three,” I said, just to buy time.

  “I say a lot of things. Now sit.”

  “I am,” I said as my hand reached the edge of the bed. I plunged it between the box springs and mattress, fumbling, groping in the darkness –

  “No you’re not,” he said, his voice weary. “My eyes are adjusted to sitting in pitch black for the last hour. You just crawled across the fucking bed, looking for this.”

  Cli-Click.

  I heard the unmistakable sound of a revolver cycling.

  My .38.

  Oh shit.

  There went my best chance.

  Maybe my last one.

  11

  I almost cried.

  The intruder had my gun.

  He knew I’d disobeyed his instructions.

  He knew I’d had every intention of killing him.

  I was going to die in the dark, shot in the back, in a shitty motel room in the middle of nowhere.

  Poor Ali.

  I wondered if she’d felt this way just before the end.

  “You know what?” the intruder said. “I think I like you over there. Sit on the edge of the bed over on that side and don’t try a thing, or next time you really will regret it.”

  His voice was coming from the opposite side of the room, by the door.

  I pulled myself into a seated position on the edge of the bed and tried to think.

  He said he’d been in the dark for an hour.

  If I turned on the light, I could maybe blind him long enough to throw something at him, rush him, try to get the gun.

  It wasn’t a smart play, but I was out of smart plays – and I really didn’t want to just sit here waiting helplessly for the end.

  I reached out my hand for the lamp –

  Click.

  With the little metallic sound came a flood of light. I squinted and put my hand up to shield my eyes.

  “Fiona. Seriously, you must have a death wish. Stop fucking with me.”

  At his words, I felt relief flood through me.

  Twice I’d tried to get a weapon or pull a fast one on him, and twice he’d warned me – but hadn’t shot me.

  He wasn’t going to kill me.

  Not before he got something out of me yet.

  What?

  Information, most probably.

  That was the only card I had left to play to stay alive.

  12

  Jack

  “NO!” I yelled.

  Lou looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “You had no right to do that!”

  “I took the fuckin’ initiative.”

  “You should have cleared it with me!”

  “There wasn’t time.”

  My mind was racing – maybe there was still time to stop it –

  “When’d you do it?”

  “Soon as I found out – little over an hour ago.”

  “What did you tell him to do to her?” I raged.

  “To get the answers out of her,” Lou said, in a tone of voice that let me know exactly how stupid he thought I was.

  “How?!”

  “It’s Roach. He’s creative, I’m sure he’ll find a way.”

  Roach was one of Lou’s boys, and one of the worst scumbags in the entire club. He’d twice been charged with rape a decade ago, but the charges had been mysteriously dropped after some strong-arming from the old leadership. Besides being a brutal asshole, he was well-known in the MC for two other things: his love of betting on dog fights, and his fascination with knives. He liked to gripe that he never got to use his collection anymore after I became president.

  I would have never let him patch in to the Riders, ever – but he was ten years older than me, and joined before I’d even set foot in Richards.

  The thought of that fucking degenerate anywhere near Fiona –

  “GET HIM ON THE PHONE RIGHT NOW AND CALL HIM OFF!” I yelled.

  Lou half-frowned, half-smiled. “What the fuck?! Just how good of a blowjob does that bitch give, anyway?”

  “Call him, Lou,” I said, furious.

  “She’s a great-looking piece of ass, I’ll give you that, but – ”

  I started towards Lou threateningly.

  �
�Hey,” he barked, pointing one finger at me in a Cut that shit out gesture. “Your judgment has gone out the fuckin’ window, Jack.”

  “You’re the one siccing that psycho on an innocent – ”

  “Innocent my ass. She’s a mole.”

  “You have no proof of that!”

  “She was lookin’ at that dead stripper – what’s-her-name – in that picture on your wall. Was askin’ all sorts of questions about her, wasn’t she,” Lou said in an insinuating voice.

  Alison Levitt.

  My stomach turned. I had forgotten all about Fiona’s fascination with that photograph yesterday morning.

  “That doesn’t prove anything,” I said, a little less forcefully.

  “Hell of another coincidence, though, isn’t it?” Lou smirked.

  “She was just jealous – ”

  “Which is why she happened to skip over a dozen hotter bitches to focus on just… that… one.”

  “It still doesn’t prove – ”

  “And now we’ve got the fuckin’ DEA or FBI on our asses. The coincidences just keep piling up. So don’t tell me she’s not a fuckin’ mole.”

  “What if she’s not? What if she’s completely innocent?”

  Lou shrugged. “So what if she is?”

  That was just like Lou.

  Innocent or guilty, people were expendable. He didn’t give a shit about anyone outside of the club.

  “Then Roach will have done God knows what to her for no reason at all!”

  “Oh well – my bad,” Lou said flippantly.

  “You fucking – ”

  “She’s not innocent, Jack. She’s a fuckin’ mole.”

  “YOU HAVE NO PROOF!”

  “Well that’s what we’re about to get.”

  13

  Fiona

  I squinted into the light until my eyes started to adjust.

  But I still couldn’t make out much. My interrogator was holding the flashlight in front of him, and everything behind it was shrouded in darkness.