Page 9 of White Heat (Lost Kings MC 5)

  Christ, her big green eyes shining with terror are all I can see. “I can’t do this,” she says.

  The way she’s struggling to stay calm even though horror is clearly written over her face, shreds my insides. “I know, Baby Doll. It’s okay. Call Glassman,” I reassure her as smoothly as possible.

  Wrath moves in behind her, settling his hands on her shoulders. My brother nods as if he already knows the thought forming on my tongue. “Keep her safe,” I order anyway.

  One of the officers pats me down. “Weapons?”

  “No.”

  He yanks my keys and cell phone out of my pocket and turns to Hope. “Miss, you want to take these?” One of the other officers steps between us, stopping her from getting too close, and hands over my stuff.

  “Where are you taking him, officer?”

  Piece of shit hesitates before answering. It’s not a complicated question. “You can’t ride with us, Miss.”

  “No kidding,” Hope snaps. “He needs counsel present, and right now, that’s me.”

  Absolutely fucking not.

  Faced with the thought of her following me to the police station, I manage to find my presidential voice. “Take her home, Wrath.”

  The cop at my back presses his hand against my shoulder blades. “Shut up.”

  Hope, whips open my cell phone and takes a picture. “I know exactly what condition he left in, officers. He better arrive at the station the same way,” she warns before slipping my phone into her pocket. I both love and want to strangle her at the same time. Wrath wraps his hand around her arm. “Come on, Hope.”

  She attempts to shake him off. “No. Where are you taking him?”

  One of the other troopers rounds the car. “Barracks. You can meet us there.”

  “Could you be more specific?” my courageous little spitfire snaps. Under any other circumstance, I might laugh at the way she’s so brazen with six armed officers.

  They ignore her. Someone grips my arm and shoves me into the back seat.

  As if I’d been watching this scene unfold from above, my body jolts and panic grips me. This is it. I struggle to draw in a breath. This is really happening.

  “Take care of her. Do not let her out of your sight,” I choke out with a lot more calm than I’m feeling inside. Wrath nods and pulls my girl back. Those are the last words I’m able to get out before the door slams in my face. No chance to reassure Hope. Tell her how fucking much I love her. Beg her to go home and do what Wrath asks her to do so I know she’s safe.

  I have to twist to see out the window. Catch sight of her as she falls back against Wrath and he holds her up. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. You’ll be okay,” I whisper to myself.

  Trinity and Z form a circle around her. I’m absolutely gutted leaving her this way. The pain in my arms and shoulders is nothing compared to the wrenching in my chest.

  My eyes close and I struggle to take deep breaths. She’ll be taken care of. The brotherhood we’ve worked so hard to create is solid. She won’t be alone. I have to assure myself she’s taken care of before I can even deal with the bullshit I’m about to drown in.

  Fuck. Even though I trust every one of my brothers, cold sweat and fear crawl over my skin. Whatever this nightmare I’ve walked into turns out to be, it means I’m leaving my girl alone.

  In an instant my life’s been ripped out of my control. Hope’s become the most precious thing in my life and now I have to trust her safety to others.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I can’t believe this is actually happening. A few seconds ago I was about to finally put my property patch on my girl. Instead I’m watching my best friend get shoved into the back of a police car and driven away.

  In my hands Hope’s shaking so hard, her teeth click.

  “Take care of her. Do not let her out of your sight.”

  I have my orders from my president and I plan to follow them. Getting Rock out of jail and keeping everyone safe are my only two objectives from now on.

  The papers in Hope’s hands flutter as she starts to break down.

  She turns and buries her face against my chest.

  I don’t know what to do to comfort her, so I rub my hand over her back. “It’s gonna be okay, Hope. Good girl, keeping it together. It’d drive him crazy if the last thing he saw was you crying.”

  My words must flip some internal switch for her. She pulls away, staring up at me. “We have to go.” Her voice comes out clear and determined. She may be falling apart on the inside, but outside, she’s icy calm.

  “Call Glassman,” she orders Z.

  “Already on it,” he answers as he walks up toward the house, Trinity following behind.

  My hands squeeze her shoulders. “Hope, I need to get you home.”

  “Like fuck,” she snaps. Pulling out of my grasp, she marches over to the Empire PD car still blocking the driveway.

  “Where are they taking him?” she demands.

  The cops feed her a line of bullshit and she argues with them for a minute before turning her attention toward Rock’s car.

  Fuck no.

  Her intention’s obvious. She places her hand over her pocket and storms up the driveway. I race over the grass to catch up. I must sound like a bull bearing down on her because she breaks into a run. She’s in the driver’s seat of Rock’s SUV, adjusting the seat, before I reach her. I narrowly miss getting my fingers caught in the door when I jerk it out of her hand.

  “Out.”

  Son of a bitch, if she doesn’t jab the key in the ignition and turn it over.

  “That’s a fucking murder indictment they handed me. He needs a lawyer, and until you find Glassman and get his ass down there, it’s me. So either get in or get out of my way, Wrath.”

  Fuck! “Move over. I’ll drive.”

  “I’m not falling for that.” She slams the car into gear. “In or out, Wrath?”

  “Godfuckingdammit! Z get over here!”

  I don’t even have to explain myself. He’s at my side, throwing open the back door and sliding in. “Murphy, get the girls home. Get everyone to the clubhouse,” I shout while I round the front of the vehicle and jump in on the other side. My door’s not even closed before Hope takes off.

  “Uh, Hope, are you planning to ram the cop car?” Z asks.

  By the expressions on their useless, donut-munching faces, the cops’re wondering the same thing.

  “Nope,” she says and jerks the steering wheel to the left, driving over the lawn.

  “Sorry, Bricks,” she mutters as she plows through the ornamental bushes Bricks recently planted around the mailbox.

  “They said barracks, but there are three fucking trooper barracks between here and Slater County Jail,” she says.

  If she wasn’t frustrating the fuck out of me by not listening, I’d be proud as hell at her determination to get to her man. “Why Slater?”

  She tosses the indictment at me. “That’s what the caption says. The warrant’s out of Slater County.”

  Z curses.

  “Slow down, Hope,” I caution. She doesn’t answer, but she eases off the gas.

  “I’ll start with Scotland Ave. It’s closest.”

  Rock’s not there. Of course the cops are completely useless and pretend to have no idea what we’re talking about.

  Hope slams out through the front door, back into the parking lot. “Shit!” She turns to us. “I don’t know if we should wait here or try another one.”

  Shaking my head, I grab her hand to keep her still. “Hope, I have to get you home.”

  Z’s phone stops us from arguing. “It’s Glassman.”

  He answers the phone, while Hope motions for him to hand it over. Her gaze darts between me and the car before finally landing on me. She motions for me to get in the driver’s seat, but still won’t give me the God damned keys.

  Any minute Hope will collapse into tears or something, right?

  Nope. She’s all business as she takes the phone out of Z’s hand.

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  “Mr. Glassman, this is Hope Kendall. We met at a CLE a few years back. I’m Rock’s fiancée.” She pauses while I guess Glassman is absorbing the fact that one of his best clients is marrying a lawyer. If the situation weren’t so dire, I’d laugh.

  After the introductions, she fires off a bunch of details at the club’s lawyer. “It’s a two-count indictment. Slater County, but troopers and Empire PD showed up.”

  Slater County. Wolf Knights territory.

  “Murder two…I don’t know. Grand Jury. Sealed. No, there’s a witness. No, the name is sealed…Yes, but not until closer to trial.”

  Witness. No fucking way.

  “An Isaac ‘Cabo’ Cruz…No, I have no idea. They give a time frame, so I don’t know…No…I’m not…Mr. Glassman, I’m not a criminal attorney…Not something of this magnitude…Okay. Whatever you need. I’ll bring you a retainer right now if you…Good. Will you go find him? Arraign…forty-eight…no… Bail? Murder two. Unlikely, no?”

  She’s silent listening to whatever Glassman has to say.

  “We already tried the Scotland Ave. barracks. He wasn’t there and no one would tell us anything.” I can’t hear the exact words, but from the tone of his voice, Glassman’s pretty pissed. While she’s distracted, I ease the keys out of her hands.

  “That’s fine. Rock wanted us to go home. So if you’re going to track him down now, that’s what I’ll do. But call us as soon as you hear something.”

  Thank fucking fuck.

  “And, Mr. Glassman, I want you to understand something, Rock and I will be getting married in a few months. I won’t be doing it inside a jail. No falling through the cracks on this. If your calendar’s full, pull in other associates to help you. No matter how scary you think Rock and his brothers are, I’ll be your worst nightmare. Do we understand each other?”

  I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder.

  Guilt worms through my stomach as I keep picturing Hope’s anxious face over and over. We’re driving who-the-fuck-knows-where. The officers won’t say a fucking word.

  Over their radio a call comes in. “The girlfriend’s throwing a fit—”

  One of the officers turns the volume down and murmurs into the radio low enough that I can’t make out every word. The few words I can decipher sound like Hope took off after me.

  Any other time, I’d shake my head, imagining Wrath’s agitation. Now, the apprehension in my gut intensifies. I want her at the clubhouse where she’s safe, not running around Empire searching for me.

  We end up driving for much longer than seems necessary. Eventually, they take me to a trooper barracks for questioning.

  A bunch of photographs of the same dead, bloated body are thrown in front of me.

  Jesus Christ. It’s a battle to keep my face neutral.

  “I’d like to call my lawyer now.”

  “Yeah, we’ll get you a call in a minute.” The officer keeps lining up photos. “Isaac ‘Cabo’ Cruz? Ring a bell?”

  Actually, no it doesn’t.

  And then it does. I lean over and take another look at one of the photos. There. The body’s decomposed but I can make out the edge of a Vipers tat.

  Motherfucking Ulfric.

  “No,” I answer in the most bored tone I can come up with. This is going to shit real fucking fast. While I know Hope has always said not to say a word to the cops, it’s harder than it sounds and “no” seems pretty harmless.

  “You sure? He’s one of your Viper buddies. Oh, wait. You’re not buddies at all. Your gangs are at war all the time.”

  “You watch too much television.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I know. You’re just president of a club. A club full of honest, misunderstood, guys who happen to love motorcycles.”

  I fake an aw, shucks smile and shrug.

  “Well, sorry, prez. We’ve got an eye witness who saw you with the victim right around the time the ME guesses he went in the water.”

  Now I’m pissed. “You got me down here on a motherfuckin’ guess?”

  See, this is a problem if they can’t give me a narrower time frame. I know exactly when Ulfric murdered Cabo and carelessly dumped his body in the Hudson River. The first night Hope spent with me. She—and my entire club—are my alibi. But how the fuck do I know when he died, unless I was involved with his death?

  Which technically I wasn’t.

  I found out about the murder a day later. Didn’t give a single fuck about it. Still don’t. Except that my freedom’s at stake over it. Not that I’d rat Ulfric out. That’s just not what we do. I could choke the life out of the sloppy fuck right now, but I won’t speak his name to the cops.

  Even though I’m sitting here for a murder I didn’t commit.

  Cabo’s brother on the other hand. No one’s ever finding that body. I’d laugh at the irony of the whole fucking mess if I could.

  This supposed eyewitness is a problem though. I never even met Cabo. Ulfric and I look nothing alike. So either someone’s confused or someone’s lying and setting me up.

  That’s a big fucking problem.

  “Members of his club say Cabo made the trip up here specifically to see you about the disappearance of his brother. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  Inside, fear rattles me down to my bones. A murder conviction. A long stretch of prison time. On the outside, I execute another careless shrug

  “Keep shrugging at me, asshole.”

  “Can I call my lawyer now?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Hope’s courage is short-lived. When we get to the clubhouse, she’s as limp as a wet noodle. Z and I have to help her upstairs.

  “Call me if you hear something, no matter what,” she whispers before closing the door.

  “This is so fucked,” Z says as we head to the war room.

  Within the next hour, everyone’s assembled in the war room. Not sure what we’re dealing with, Bricks brought Winter and their kids to the clubhouse. Teller brought Heidi. Dex brought up Swan and a few other girls who are known to associate with us.

  It’s a full house and it’s somber as fuck with everyone worried about Rock.

  Trinity takes care of finding rooms for our extra guests. She also explains to the girls to keep tits and ass covered at all times in all common areas, since there’re kids here.

  “Swan won’t be a problem. The other two should be fine too,” she assures me as I place a kiss on her forehead.

  “You okay?”

  “No. Not at all. Should I go check on Hope?”

  Fuck. I don’t fuckin’ know. Part of me doesn’t like leaving her alone at a time like this, part of me thinks that’s probably what she wants right now.

  “Go up and knock. See if she’s okay. We’re gonna be at the table for a few.”

  Z’s phone goes off as soon as we all sit at the table. “Glassman.”

  “Answer it.”

  Murphy offers to go grab Hope.

  Z sets the phone in the middle of the table and puts it on speaker. “Who am I talking to?” Glassman asks.

  I’m the one who answers. “The whole club.”

  Glassman mutters and curses and I know he’s pissed about confidentiality bullshit. But I don’t fuckin’ care right now.

  “Look, I just wanted to update you. I can’t find him. They haven’t brought him in to Slater County for processing yet. Best guess is he’s at one of the trooper barracks.”

  “Motherfucks!” Z slams his fist into the table.

  “There are at least three stations they could have taken him to between his house and Slater County jail. I’ll try Scotland Ave. again.”

  “What the fuck?” I grumble. This is a nightmare.

  “He’s probably being questioned. But he knows better than to talk without me there. My guess is they’re dragging their heels in letting him have his phone call.”

  Murphy leads Hope in and I point for her to sit in Rock’s chair.

  “Can they do that?” I ask.

  “It

’s the cops. They’ll do whatever the fuck they want,” Glassman answers.

  I risk a glance at Hope. Her eyes are dry, but her jaw’s tight, cheeks red and she’s the one who looks ready to commit murder.

  “It’s Hope, Mr. Glassman. Will you continue looking for him?”

  “Yes. I’ve got myself and one of my associates trying to track him down. Rock knows my cell number. Honestly, Hope, there’s nothing you can do right now. Try to get some rest. I might need you to come down and post bail first thing in the morning.”

  “You think they’ll give him bail?”

  “I don’t know. But I’ll fight for it.”

  “Make sure you do.”

  Get some rest my ass. How the hell am I supposed to sleep or even breathe without Rock next to me? Without knowing where he is? If he’s okay? Harsh sobs tear out of my chest as soon as I’m in our room alone. This time there’s no one there to keep me upright, and I slide down until my ass hits the floor and bawl.

  What am I going to do? Is Rock okay? I should be out trying to find him, but Wrath made it clear leaving the clubhouse isn’t an option. Wrath took control, barking out orders to everyone left and right. Z handled everything else. All this time, I never thought to ask Rock who’d be left in charge if he—

  More tears flow down my cheeks. The thought of sleeping in our bed alone rips me to shreds. My heart splinters at the memory of his wrists bound behind his back as he’s shoved into the police car.

  In the hallway I hear some of the guys. I concentrate on breathing deep and drying my face. Crying won’t get Rock out of jail. From now until he’s home with me, that’s all I plan to focus on.

  While I was downstairs, I scanned in a copy of the indictment and sent it to Glassman’s office. I left a copy with the guys and stuffed my copy in my pocket. Now, I slide it out, unfold it and study the words until they make sense.

  Some guy—Cabo. Pulled out of the Hudson River weeks ago. A witness came forward, swears they saw Rock with the victim around the time the medical examiner estimates the body was dumped in the river.

  What kind of crap is this?

  A sketchy eyewitness and a medical examiner’s guess. Are they kidding?