Grace
AS OUR DAY progressed, I tried not to blush every time Flea walked by the desk. I’m not entirely sure I succeeded, but it was still a valiant effort. I couldn’t believe I liked having semi-public sex. Granted, I wasn’t anywhere near experienced in any sex, period, but I was finding out that I liked sex with Flea, anywhere, anytime.
“Connor Wallace!” a deep voice bellowed.
I faced the windows that faced the shop and saw two uniformed policemen, along with two other men in cheap suits. Detectives. I frowned. This was not good.
“Who’s askin’?” Hatch said, somewhat good-naturedly, stepping out from behind the hood of a car.
“On your knees!” one of the detectives snapped, his gun now out of his holster.
“What the fuck’s goin’ on?”
“Get on your knees.”
Hatch removed his gloves, dropped them on the ground, then got on his knees and linked his fingers behind his head like he’d been through this several times before. I wanted to rush in and do something, but I knew enough to know I would only make things worse. So I grabbed my cell phone and started recording.
The detective handcuffed my surrogate dad and dragged him back to his feet.
“Someone call Mack,” Hatch ordered as they hauled him toward the patrol car. “Flea, you call Maisie.”
Hatch caught my eye and gave me a bolstering smile, but something wasn’t right. What the hell was going on?
Flea rushed past the customer service desk and into the employee breakroom where our lockers were. No one was in the customer service area, so I followed him. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t know,” he said, pulling out his cell phone and putting it to his ear. “Mack. Hatch just got nabbed.”
I heard Mack let out a series of creative curse words, then he wanted to know everything, which Flea provided. At least, what he knew.
I stood in the middle of the room, rubbing my arms, suddenly very, very cold. While Flea filled Mack in on the play-by-play, he closed the distance between us and wrapped an arm around me. I held my arms to my chest and pressed close to him, taking his warmth into my bones.
“Yeah, man,” Flea said. “No idea. Hatch just assumed the position. Yeah, I’m gonna call her now. Sure. Okay. Yeah. Cool.” Flea hung up and wrapped both his arms around me. “I need you not to freak out just yet, baby.”
“I’m okay,” I lied. “Just cold.”
He stepped away from me long enough to snag his leather jacket off the rack and wrap it around me. “I’m gonna call Maisie.”
“Okay.” I slid my arms into his sleeves and smiled. “I’m okay.”
He pulled me against him again and put his phone back to his ear. “Maisie?”
I decided I had my own phone call to make and stepped away from Flea to grab my phone and call Poppy.
“Hey, bestie,” she said, answering on the first ring.
“Hey. Um, is Devon with you?”
“Yes. Why? What’s wrong?”
“Hatch got arrested.”
“What?” she snapped.
“We don’t know why, but they just took him away. Flea’s talking to your mom right now and Mack’s already been called.”
I waited while Poppy filled Devon in on everything I’d told her, then I could hear Devon bellowing in the background.
“He’s talking to Hawk,” Poppy said. “Was Sid okay?”
Poppy’s biological father had died when she was two, so when Maisie had married Hatch, Poppy called him her ‘stand-in dad,’ which got shortened to ‘Sid.’
“He seemed to be,” I said. “But I’ve never seen someone I care about get arrested, so I’m not an expert.”
She sighed. “Okay, I’m going to call Mum.”
“Okay, honey. Keep me posted on what you find out.”
“You too.”
“I will.” I hung up and walked back into the employee area.
I walked in just as Flea threw something at the wall with a yell. He dragged his hands down his face and turned tortured eyes to me. This time, it was me wrapping my arms around him and squeezing tight. “We’re going to figure this out,” I promised.
“None of this makes any fuckin’ sense,” he rasped, holding me close. “There’s nothin’ they can get him on, because he hasn’t done anyone wrong.”
“Yeah, it’s weird.”
“I need to get up to the club,” he said. “Preacher’s pickin’ me up. You gonna be okay drivin’ home alone?”
“I’ve been doing that for a few years now, so yes.”
He shook his head. “Feisty to the nth degree, huh?”
Since that was obviously a rhetorical question, I didn’t answer as I stared up at him. “Will you keep me updated as you find things out?”
“If I can, yeah,” he said. “You should head home now. We’re gonna close up the shop.”
“What about the work that still needs to be done?”
“We’re caught up enough. Hatch’s brothers will tag-team tomorrow, then we’ll go from there.”
I had no idea when he’d had time to call Hatch’s brothers and set all that up, but knowing Flea, he’d probably set up a modern-day phone line the second the officers arrived.
I nodded. “Will I see you later?”
“Don’t know, baby, but I’ll call you.” He kissed me quickly, then walked me to my car. “Drive safe.”
“No, I’m going to ram into a tree,” I deadpanned.
He gripped my chin with his thumb and index finger. “You ram into a tree, and you and I are gonna have a problem.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He kissed me again. “Text me when you get to your grandmother’s.”
“I will.”
I climbed into my car and headed home.
* * *
Flea
Since my bike was at Grace’s grandmother’s, I hitched a ride with Preacher and we pulled into the compound to find the parking lot almost full.
“All-hands,” Preacher observed.
“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” I said and climbed out of the truck, heading inside. Every club brother, along with Ace and Knight’s biological FBI brother, Jaxon, milled in the great room. What I wasn’t expecting to see was Grace’s dad. I made my way to him. “Does Grace know you’re here?”
Ryan shook his head. “Merrick filled me in on what happened. I’m hoping I can help.”
I crossed my arms. “If you’re expectin’ me to keep this from Grace, you need to adjust those expectations.”
“Hatch had my back when he could have told me to fuck off,” he said. “I plan to help however I can. I’d like to keep this from Grace for as long as possible, but if you feel you need to tell her that’s up to you. As a side note, I’ve checked you out, and I know you’re clean. I also know you’re Hatch’s guy, which means somethin’, but you hurt my little girl and I will bring down a world of hurt, this shit with Hatch will look like child’s play. We clear?”
“Clear, man,” I said and walked to where Booker and Hawk were in a heated discussion. “What’s goin’ on?” I asked.
“Not sure. Crow’s been meeting with Mack and Jaxon for a while,” Hawk said.
“Has Mack been to see Hatch yet?” I asked.
“I just said I don’t know anything,” Hawk replied, sounding irritated.
“He’s acting as his lawyer, right?”
“I don’t fucking know, Flea,” Hawk growled.
A loud whistle sounded and we all turned to face Crow. “Right, brothers, this is the situation,” he said as he walked to the center of the room, Mack and Jaxon flanking him at each side. “According to what Jaxon’s been able to find out, the local PD are holding Hatch for suspicion of producing explosives.”
“What the fuck?” I snapped.
“It gets worse. They’ve notified the FBI, who will most likely detain him under the Patriot Act. That’s why it was on Jax’s radar so quickly.
“Hatch is no fucking terrorist.” Ace said, to nods all around.
“No one said anything about terrorists,” Crow said. “Only that they’re holding him for questioning regarding making explosives.”
“Which is also complete horse shit!” Hawk exclaimed with a scoff.
“Obviously,” Crow replied. “We all know Hatch, and I know that he would never purchase large amounts of bomb making materials.”
“Is that what the cops are claiming?” I asked, unable to comprehend Hatch doing anything of the sort.
“Yes, in a nutshell, that’s why he’s being detained,” Jaxon said. “Portland PD was given an anonymous tip that a man matching Hatch’s description has been seen at local building supply and box stores purchasing large quantities of acetone, fertilizer, and pool cleaner, as well as items like lengths of pipe, duct tape, and spools of wire. These are all obvious ingredients of mass producing pipe bombs, or other explosive devices.”
“No fucking way, not Hatch, and this is total bullshit that he could be hauled off just because someone makes a phony fucking phone call,” I said.
“That’s not all they have, Flea. I wish it was,” Mack said, with something in in his voice I’d never heard before; fear.
“What is it?” I asked. “You’re his lawyer, what do you know?”
“That’s just it,” Mack said. “I’m not his lawyer. No one is.”
“What about his Miranda rights?” I asked.
“Miranda rights don’t apply here, because Hatch hasn’t been arrested. He’s simply being detained, and under the Patriot Act, that can be for as long as deemed necessary, without counsel.”
“Based on what? What the fuck do they have besides this so-called concerned citizen’s phone call?”
“For starters, Hatch’s internet browser history, and it’s not pretty. Anarchist web sites, manuals on DIY bomb-making, schematics and architectural drawing of local buildings—”
“All of that can easily be faked by someone who knows what they’re doing, right Booker?”
“Not easily,” Book countered. “Not if it’s passing the cop’s sniff test, anyway. It also wouldn’t be cheap forgery, I can tell you that. They must feel good about this intel, because they moved in fast as hell.”
“That’s not all,” Crow said, and nodded for Jaxon to continue.
“They have Hatch on surveillance video at three stores buying this stuff, his credit card transaction records at each of them,” Jaxon said. “They’ve also got a photo of him, and his vehicle taken from a red-light cam, one block away from the last store he visited.”
“No… no fucking way,” I said.
“Look, none of us believe that Hatch is planning on blowing up the courthouse or anything—”
“Who said he’s actually involved at all? Doesn’t anyone here actually have his back?” I asked.
“They’ve got a lot of solid initial evidence here, Flea,” Jaxon said. “I don’t want to believe it either, but obviously something’s going on here, and the police are just doing their jobs. Frankly, if I had the kind of information and evidence they have, I’d be just as inclined to move on it as they are.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m inclined to tell the cops and the FBI to suck my left nut, because there’s no way in hell Hatch would ever be making pipe bombs in his basement while trolling skinhead porn sites! And if any of you think he’s capable of that kind of shit, then you should be ashamed to call yourselves his brothers.”
“Okay, calm down before you rupture an ovary, Flea,” Crow said. Much needed laughter broke some of the tension in the room. “No one said we believed the cops, just that they have a strong case against our boy. Not only do we think he’s got nothing to do with this, we think we know who’s behind the frame job.”
“Who the fuck would frame Hatch?” I asked.
“Los Psychos,” Crow said.
“I thought they packed up and left town after everything that went down with the Burning Saints,” Hawk said.
“They did, but they’re pissed at the Dogs for helping the Saints run them out, and it looks like they’ve hired some heavy hitters to put the hurt on Hatch.”
A few months ago, our club had rekindled an old relationship with a rival club in town called the Burning Saints. Minus, their newly patched-in president needed some help with a rival club from Mexico, as well as some guidance in cleaning up their club internally. We were more than happy to help them out, in exchange for some future services rendered; whenever called upon, of course. Apparently, our help didn’t go unnoticed by Los Psychos, and although they left town, they weren’t gone for good or done with the Burning Saints or the Dogs of Fire. To make matters worse, Hatch’s sister is Minus’s old lady, which is likely why he was their target.
“Los Psychos is sending us a message,” I said.
“Clearly, now we need to figure out how to respond,” Crow replied.
“Without making Hatch’s situation with the local cops, the FBI, or Homeland Security any worse,” Jaxon added.
“Any thoughts?” I asked, flippantly.
“I think we might need to call in that favor from the Burning Saints sooner than we’d thought,” Crow said.