Rivers

The landing gear touches down in Austin and everyone onboard starts to stir. When we signed with Outlaw Records a year and a half ago, we were welcomed to the family. And when the members of The Resistance say it, they mean it.

The Johnny Outlaw, their infamous drummer, Dex, and the band manager that became ours, Tommy, packed a bag and were on the tarmac before my brothers, Ridge, and I made it to the airport in Burbank. Derrick and Kaz are covering for the band by sticking to an interview in the morning that the band had already committed to.

I have a theory about Johnny and Dex. When they hang with us, they get to relive the wilder side of their youth. They’re not old, not at all, but they’re old enough to know better. Yet with us, they get to take down a bad guy or two. Other than my brothers, they’re my idols and they live up to the title.

A slick black custom van with dark tinted windows is waiting when the private plane comes to a stop. The door rolls down, and I take the lead anxious to get to Stella. We’ve been in contact, but since she’s been talking to the detectives assigned to the case I haven’t wanted to disturb her. Fuck, hearing her voice. I need you. I hated hearing her fear, knowing I was hours away from her. The bastard has come after her again. Fuck.

Once we’re settled in the van with Jet sitting upfront, Ridge and me in the second row, Johnny and Dex in the third, and Tulsa and Tommy in the back, we take off. It’s after three in the morning, and the hour is wearing on everyone’s face. Silence seems to be golden until Ridge asks, “Are we going to the station or the house?”

“The station.” My reply is clipped. My thoughts are on Stella. I text her: Landed in Austin. On the way to you.

She texts: Thank you.

Grateful, as if I’m doing her a favor.

I’m not. She’s doing me the favor by keeping that heart of hers safe, that pretty face protected, that soul whole for me. I shift, anxious to get there.

The Crow Brothers aren’t strangers to being arrested, but I think she’s managed to find the only police station we haven’t been thrown into. When we’re buzzed in behind the counter, the female officer’s mouth starts catching flies by how low it’s hanging. I look back and am suddenly very aware of what this must look like to the outside world. We don’t normally travel in a pack like this.

Pointing, she stumbles over her words, “You’re Johnny Outlaw, and you’re . . . Oh my God, The Crow Brothers. Like, all of them.”

I step up to the counter and not wanting to draw more attention than necessary, whisper, “We’re here for Stella and Meadow Fellowes.”

She stares at me, and then smiles, wide eyes following. “You’re The Crow Brothers. I’ve seen you more than a few times.”

“Thank you. We appreciate it.”

“You play that thing.” She starts snapping her fingers as if that will recall what she’s searching for.

“A bass guitar.”

“Yes!” She points at me. “A guitar.”

I’m not sure how to get her back on track, so I repeat, “Stella Fellowes,” and hope she knows what I mean.

“Yes.” A buzzer sounds. “Come to me. I mean, come on back.” Everyone files through the unlocked door, and the other guys take the seats by the front desk. To everyone else, she says, “Don’t leave. I’m coming back for you.”

Johnny winks. “I’ll be waiting.”

I see her shiver with giddiness as she squeezes her fists with glee. She stops at the second door down the hall and knocks before pushing a code on the keypad and opening the door. My eyes find Stella, and she flies from the chair. Landing against me with an umf, I hold her as tight as I can without squeezing the life from her. “I love you,” I whisper into her hair. Inhaling everything about her scent—oranges and love. I take in the feel of her body, making sure to appreciate that she’s here, safe, and in one piece.

Dropping my head to her shoulder, I turn to kiss her neck as soft cries cover my shoulder. I say, “You’re okay, baby.”

“Now that you’re here.” Raindrop tears gather at the top of her bottom lids when she looks up at me. As they roll over and run down her cheeks, she caresses my face. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I’m grateful for you.”

I catch movement from my peripheral and turn. “What the fuck?”

Brian comes forward cautiously, holding his hand out. “Mr. Crow.”

Damn right he knows to address me with respect, but there’s no way in fuck I’m shaking his hand. Stella latches onto my arm when my body tenses, and I jut forward. “No, Rivers. He’s a good guy.”

One arm goes around her waist, and I move her behind me. “A fucking creep stalker is what the fuck he is.”

Brian’s hands go up in surrender. “I apologize for how I had to act. I’ve been undercover on this case. I’m Detective Teller.”

I’m not sure how to process what he’s saying. His words don’t feel right. Not when it comes to him. “You broke into her place. Is that a part of the job description?”

“I can explain. You’re safe in here. She’s safe. Please have a seat and we’ll go over everything.”

Stella moves in front of me, and whispers, “It’s all right. We’re all right. Let’s just sit down. Please.”

Another chair is brought in and set at the end of the small table dividing the two sides. My girls versus them. I grab the chair and move it next to Stella’s chair. Always on her side. Before I sit down, I walk around to Meadow, who stands and hugs me. I give my little sis a hug and make sure there’s not a scratch on her either or I’ll take my rage out on Bri over there. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. A little shaken and tired, but fine.”

The other guy leans forward, offering his hand. “I’m Detective Suthers. I’ll be the contact for this case.”

Shaking his hand, I say, “Rivers Crow.” I sit down and eye Brian. “So he’s a cop.”

Teller’s quick to correct me. “Detective. I was assigned to this case just over four years ago, put in place at the Rostinal Academy—”

“For?”

He pushes a file forward and opens it. There is an eight by ten of some business guy and two smaller mug shots of different guys. I glance at Stella, who’s staring at her lap as her fingers tug at the loose strings of her cut-off shorts. “Who are these guys? What am I missing?”

Brian laughs humorlessly under his breath. “We’re really not in a position to fill you in on the details of an ongoing case that has nothing to do with you.” Angling his gaze to Stella, he adds, “But Stella said she wouldn’t speak unless we included you, and since by law, she doesn’t have to, here we are.” He taps his middle and index fingers on the two mug shots.

Hearing him utter Stella’s name sends waves of rage through me, but seeing how she’s folding in on herself, the bright light being snuffed out breaks my heart. When she doesn’t say anything, Teller says, “These are the two men who work for Conrad Baird—CEO of a Fortune 500, Austin elite and philanthropist.”

“Okay. And?”

“The two men shown here are the ones who do most of the dirty work for Baird. Loan sharks, debt collection, bookie activity, and online gambling. That sort of thing. Some of it legal, most of it not. But that’s just the tip of our investigation. He doesn’t generally get involved in low-level activity. The practices are in place, and his lackeys run on automation now,” he adds and looks at Stella again. What the fuck?

“Why do you keep looking at her?” Stella’s eyes meet mine, and there’s a silent plea I can’t read. I cover her thigh with my hand and whisper between us, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Teller inserts himself before she has a chance to answer. “Baird is the one who collected her debt.”

Meadow snaps, “Our father’s debt.”

His eyes shift to her, but I continue to stare at Brian a long second before Meadow’s words make sense. My gaze drops to the large photo as my stomach clenches, firing all cylinders of my blood pressure and shooting it sky high full of anger. The chair skids and falls back on the tiled floor, echoing in the small room. “That’s the man who raped her?”

Brian replies, “Allegedly.”

“Fuck you, Teller, and your alleged bullshit.” I look at Stella who has her eyes closed tight. Meadow takes her hand and holds it between both of hers. “Is this the motherfucker who raped you, Stella?”

When her eyes open, her gaze darts from the photo, and she nods. Then she turns to look at me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“You’re upset. I don’t want you to be upset.”

Kneeling beside her, I say, “I’m not upset with you. I’m upset because you were hurt. Brutally attacked. I’m upset because I wasn’t there to help you or stop it from happening. I’m upset because that motherfucker sitting across from you hasn’t wiped that smug fucking smarmy grin off his face since I walked in.” I shoot Brian a death glare when I stand back up. “Why the fuck are you so happy anyway?”

Detective Suthers stands. “You need to calm down. We understand the distress she’s under. We understand you are upset, but you will not threaten us in language or behavior or we’ll throw you in a holding cell. Please calmly sit down or leave.”

“Do you understand? Have you been raped?”

Teller stands. “You’re out of line—”

“I’m out of line? Me?” I turn my hand from my chest to pointing it at his fucking face. “You’re fucking out of line, you fucking pervert. You should be in jail for—”

He comes around the table feeling all fucking mighty with that badge hanging around his neck. “Feeling brave, Crow?”

While Suthers stands on guard, Stella stands between us. Pressing her hands against me, the featherweight pressure can’t stop me if I want to knock him out, and man, do I ever want to knock him the fuck out. “Please don’t do this, Rivers. You have to calm down, or they’ll arrest you.”

Brian stands with his arms crossed over his puffed-out chest and that shit-eating smug grin. “Yeah, Crow, calm down. And while you’re at it, sit the fuck down and learn to listen.”

“I should punch your fucking lights out.”

He rolls his eyes, and says, “Do it.”

* * *

“Crow,” the guard says, unlocking the cell, “you’re free to leave.”