Chapter 7
Colt
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek as I picked at my nails. The holding cells in Redding were always dumps. Piss and shit in the corners from drunkards and nasty ass prostitutes that couldn’t hit the fucking toilet. Druggies and junkies vomiting in the piss and shit because they’d partied way too hard with college fuckwads that came for a good time. I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes. For all I knew, they’d keep me in a damn holding cell until time for a fucking trial date I didn’t know shit about. Processing me without evidence was a no-no on their part. All they had on me was fleeing a scene they couldn’t prove I was part of. No one could get me to talk, so all they had to hold me on was my presence at the scene.
I had one more day before they had to charge me. Otherwise, I’d be let go.
“Colt?”
I peeked an eye open as the guard came up to the bars.
“Yep?” I asked.
“Got yourself a visitor.”
“Tell them ‘no thanks’.”
“Ain’t gotta choice. Take it,” the guard said.
If it was Monroe coming back to try and have another stab at me, I’d have to tell her like it was. She was too damn close to the situation and I didn’t want to get anyone else roped into this mess. I needed someone on my side who was less concerned for my overall well- being and more concerned with figuring out what the fuck was actually going on.
“And we meet again.”
My eyes fell onto her and I took a second to study her. Agent Banks. Technically, she was the answer to every prayer I had just murmured to myself. But her body was distracting as fuck. Those long, petite legs with just enough muscle to show what a badass DEA agent she was. Her black hair still pouring down her back and those piercing eyes of her staring directly into mine. She had a long neck. One that would look good in diamonds I could drip from it. Or my come, depending on where she wanted me to put it.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“I’ll make this quick since you’ve obviously got plans.”
She looked around the holding cell before a grin slid across her face. A jokester. Of course.
Maverick would like her.
“I’ve looked through all the files the police here have on you and your club,” I said.
“Files?” I asked.
She quirked an eyebrow. “They actually have an extensive library of information on you guys.”
A chill worked its way down my spine. We had connections in the police department to keep that type of shit from happening. What the fuck were they doing with a damn library?
“Make you nervous?” Agent Banks asked.
“No,” I said.
“That’s a lie, but I’ll take it for now. I admire the fact that you keep trying.”
I bit down onto the inside of my cheek to keep from firing back. I hated the fact that she could read me like a fucking book. It was bullshit. An uneven advantage. It was a hell of a parlor trick, though.
Jace would like it.
“You here for a reason?” I asked.
“Yep. I believe you’re innocent,” she said plainly.
“Is it my charming smile?”
“No. It’s the only theory that makes sense. They’re trying to hold you here because of the officer slain at the shootout. And it’s clear by the crime scene photos that the shooting was too disorganized to pinpoint whose bullet killed that officer.”
“You saw the crime scene photos?”
She shrugged. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“What else did you see?” I asked.
“Why? Am I making you nervous?” she asked.
“No. But, I am curious.”
She sighed. “For a group that specializes in protective services—who should be proficient in guns—the crime scene is a mess. It looks as though nothing was planned. And there were way too many bullets and not enough bodies to match up with them. My educated guess is that the plan was slapped together haphazardly by your club and executed with more than just your club.”
I glared into her eyes, hoping to fuck she couldn’t read anything going on in my mind. But, the second that sly little grin of hers crossed her face, I knew some involuntary part of me had fucked it up.
Again.
“Good to know,” she said.
“Good to know what?” I asked.
“Here’s what I do know. Here’s what’s on paper. I’ve got a club — your club—in a shootout with the cartel. That’s been proven. That’s been solidified. Yet, your club has no drug priors. No history of dabbling in them whatsoever. I also know that you are connected with other clubs. Like the Dead Souls and the High Rollers. My guess is that it was one of those two clubs was helping you out that night. Though, I don’t know which one yet,” she said.
Holy fuck, this woman was a machine.
“The interesting thing is, none of those clubs are being investigated by us or any other agency at the time for anything. Including drugs. So, how in the world does a protection club end up going head to head with the cartel and it ending in a shootout that kills an officer?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me, since you apparently have all the answers.”
“Want to know my guess?” she asked, smiling.
Holy hell, she had a great smile.
“No,” I said.
“Oh, fine. I’ll tell you, then. No use in working too hard to pull it out of me. I believe you took on a client that was entangled with the cartel and you’re helping them get out of it.”
“A client? You think we take clients?”
“Oh. Oh, oh, oh. This is the part where you try to deny it with those charming eyes of yours,” she said.
“You think my eyes are charming? Nice. Haven’t heard that one in a while,” I said.
I watched her cheeks flush just slightly, and it rolled my gut. There was her tell. That was her schtick. Flirt with her and catch her off-guard. Knock her off her feet with kindness.
How fucking cliché.
“It doesn’t take much talking to the locals around here before I run into someone you and your club have helped. Yes, I know you take clients. I also know you take exorbitant amounts of money in the process. Do you extort your clients? Or do you provide further protection they aren’t aware about after the case is supposed ‘wrapped up’?” she asked.
“Depends. Sometimes I don’t like wrapping it up,” I said with a smirk.
I watched her nostrils flare and it sent electricity shooting through my veins.
“Good to know,” she said.
“Figured you’d enjoy that little piece of information with those flushed cheeks of yours.”
“Trust me, it takes more than a nice set of eyes to get underneath my clothes, Colt.”
“How does a strong set of hands sound?” I asked.
Oh, she was caving. Practically buckling at the knees. She reached up and grabbed the holding cell bar in front of her, and I watched her knuckles turn white. A power stance that was trying to keep her upright. If I was on the other side of these damn bars, she’d be putty in my fucking hands. I’d silence that mind and that truthful tongue of hers with my cock. I’d swell her lips so much with my kisses she wouldn’t be able to grin because of how much they hurt.
I had ways of shutting women like her up. I just needed to be on the other side of these fucking bars.
“I know you’re innocent. And I know your club is innocent. The bullet the officer took wasn’t precise. It wasn’t accurate. The bullet lodged into him at an angle. Grazed him before it finally embedded and nicked one of the arteries of his heart. Precision doesn’t do that. Random firing does,” she said.
My playful nature slipped away as her eyes hardened on me.
“You might not want my help, and that’s fine. So, I’ve come to make a deal,” she said.
“A deal,” I said.
“Yes. You know, one of those things that benefits two people when they agree to hold up their end of the bargain.”
“I know what a damn deal is.”
“Then listen to mine. I will make Sheriff Barnes cut you lose if you agree to help me,” she said.
I chuckled. “Help you with what?”
“If I’m going to take down the cartel, I’m going to need to build a case against their major players. I have a feeling you and your club know who those major players are. I’ll need names and possible whereabouts you guys have already sniffed out.”
“And what makes you think we have that information?”
“The same reasons that drew the conclusions you confirmed for me in your reactions throughout this entire conversation,” she said.
Dread crept into my veins.
“You’ve confirmed for me that there was another club involved. That it’s either the High Rollers or the Dead Souls. And judging by your harsh reaction when I said their name, I’m going to assume it’s the Dead Souls.”
“Get out,” I growled.
“You had another stark reaction when I said the crime scene was sloppy, at best. I don’t think those were my exact words, but when I mentioned the disorganization, you balked. Not physically, but your temple throbbed. It means you bit down onto your jaw to keep from talking. It’s a tell you have. And don’t worry, me telling you about that tell doesn’t mean you can control it. Tells have been ingrained into people for their entire lives. Being aware of them only makes them stronger,” she said, grinning.
“Guard!” I exclaimed.
“You didn’t kill that officer and neither did the club that was helping you. I will figure all of this out, and you can either help yourself, or you can go down with the rest of your club trying to fight this,” she said.
I stood up and strode to the bars, slamming my fist down onto them beside her hand.
“You leave my club out of this,” I growled.
“The only way to do that is to get you the hell out of here. So, are you going to help me do that and keep your club safe from something the police want to pin on you? Or are you going to stay seated on your high horse thinking you know what’s best for a club you’re single-handedly ratting on yourself?” she asked.