Chapter 18
Laiken
I walked into my house and slammed the door behind me. I turned around and listened as his bike rode off, my body shaking with fury. I wanted to look out the window and watch him drive away. I wanted him to come after me in my own home. Hell, I was ready to run right after him, chasing him down as he rode off down the street.
But I couldn’t let him see how upset I was about everything.
It was insane, the way I felt for him. Last night had conjured up every last memory I’d tried to stifle and bury. I tried time and time again, to kill the feelings I had for him. To get past the bullshit man, he had turned into and convinced myself that he was no good for me. But last night had changed everything. The way he had defended me. The way he had fucked me. The way he had cradled me against his body and the electricity that resurrected my heart whenever he kissed me. He breathed life back into my world. He had risen my soul from the dead after leaving this entire hellhole behind.
And now, he was riding away. Without even knowing how much he still meant to me.
But it didn’t matter. He was keeping secrets already, and I couldn’t deal with that shit again. I put up with it for months, and it drove me into a paranoia I couldn’t stand. It would keep me up at nights and drive me to do things I was never proud of. It turned me into a shell of a woman that started questioning her adequacy, and I vowed never to let a man do that do me ever again. When I left this town and headed for Los Angeles, I looked myself in the mirror, and I promised myself that no man would ever have the upper hand like that again.
Yet here I was, listening to the man that always had the upper hand ride away.
I raced upstairs and cleaned myself up. I had to call a taxi, so I could go back and get my car. I was thankful it was still there, though shocked that it hadn’t been towed away. The bar was deserted, and everyone was gone, and suddenly the looming threat of last night didn’t seem so scary. Maybe it was the haze of cigarette smoke or the way Jace had taken me by surprise, but everything seemed so much more urgent last night.
But now that sunlight was shining on the place; it looked almost pathetic.
Scoffing to myself, I got into my car. I raced into work, trying to beat the clock so I didn’t have to answer any questions. I wasn’t going to start my relationship with my new captain on a lie, which meant I needed to mitigate his need to ask questions. I flew through yellow lights and raced down back roads, trying to get to the police station as quickly as I could.
There was new information the DEA had for us on this case. I hated that it was calling us in on a fucking weekend, but whatever it took to get the job done, I would help. My hometown was riddled with bullshit I would’ve never dreamed would penetrate it, and I was ready to scrape it off the sidewalk.
No matter what it took.
I pulled into the station and tried to erase Jace from my mind. I stopped by the lounge to grab me a shitty cup of coffee, dousing it with sugar and creamer to cover up the burnt taste. People always made it too strong and then let it sit on the burner for too long before pouring it out. By the time I got to it, it would always taste like burned chicken or some shit like that. But it was caffeine, and I would need it in order to focus my mind on the task at hand.
“Officer Riley, glad you could make it. The DEA agents are setting up for the briefing now,” my captain said.
“Fuck, this is shitty coffee,” I said. “Excuse my language.”
“None necessary when you’re talking about the coffee. It does that to everyone. Thanks for getting in so quickly. Meeting in five.”
I made a stop off at my desk and started rifling through some things. I grabbed my notebook and a pen so I could take new notes about the case. I choked down the rest of the coffee and almost gagged, my stomach wanting to reject all of it. I shook the sensation from my body as I got up from my seat, and that was when I caught my form my reflection in the window.
There, on my neck, was a fucking mark.
Shit.
Dashing to the bathroom, I stood at one of the sinks. It wasn’t a terrible mark, but it was dark enough for someone to make some sort of a connection. In the world of law enforcement, it was still very much a man’s game. And any insecure man working alongside a woman would latch onto anything to make himself feel superior over her. I took my hair down from the bun I’d thrown it up in and tried to situate it along my neck, covering up the mark. But instead, all it showcased was how greasy and sweaty my hair still was from the night before.
“Here, try this.”
I jumped as a woman came out of the stall and started rummaging around in her purse. She was a very pretty woman, though not dressed in a uniform. She had a badge on her clothes that assigned her to the front desk, which meant she was probably the secretary that presided over the evidence locker. Even the front desk attendants needed uniforms, but those who worked in evidence didn’t.
“The men here will slaughter you for it, so I keep it with me in my purse,” she said. “I’m Kathy, by the way.”
“Laiken,” I said.
“The new officer. Just came in… last week?”
“Essentially,” I said. “What is this?”
“It’s a concealer. It might be a little dark for your skin tone, but I’ve got a highlighter in here as well we could dust over it. Let me help.”
She pulled my hair off to the side and got to work. She washed the area of my mark and dried it off, then applied the concealer. She was right… it was a shade too dark for me. I furrowed my brow as she dug around in her purse, then she pulled out a small compact and a brush. I watched as she wielded the makeup, my eyes focused on her and the door as she worked. And by the time she was done, even I couldn’t tell that there had been a mark on my neck.
“Perfect,” Kathy said. “That should get you through the meeting. If you want to leave your hair down, I’ve got some dry shampoo to get rid of the light grease stains at your hairline.”
“That… doesn’t sound too bad,” I said. “But my captain has already seen me, so if I come in with my hair different, he might suspect something.”
“Oh honey, you give these men way too much credit.”
I snickered and shook my head as she went to work. The dry shampoo-- whatever the fuck that shit was-- made my hair look like I had just washed it. She pulled some of it back into a little ponytail and tied it off with my hair tie, then situated the rest of it over my shoulders. Between the makeup and the hair that partially covered it up, I was golden.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Anytime. If you ever need me again, just come down to the evidence locker. I’m never not working,” Kathy said.
“Sounds terrible.”
“Eh, I don’t like people. They exhaust me.”
“Then it sounds phenomenal,” I said.
The two of us exited the bathroom and I made my way to the meeting. I gave a friendly nod to Kathy before I slipped into the room, taking a seat in the back. My captain was there, scanning for me as my eyes met his. He furrowed his brow lightly before he nodded in my direction, and I rolled my eyes before I sighed.
So much for him not noticing.
I allowed my thoughts of Jace to fall to the wayside as DEA Special Agent Monaco took the stand. She was rattling off a few things here and there that were unimportant, and I was getting frustrated the more she continued to talk. She was recounting a lot of shit and drawing conclusions when she had no evidence for them, and I shot my captain a look.
Was he fucking kidding me with this shit?
But my attention perked up when she revealed new pictures. The board was tacked with them as we all got up from our seats. There were pictures with ‘Devil Saints’ written above the board and then there were pictures with ‘Road Rebels’ written on the other side of the board. And they were intimate pictures, too. Close up pictures with crystal clear faces. There were close-ups of people associated with the Saints unloading crates from the back of a truck. There were close-ups of people associated with the Rebels coming and going from one big building.
But there was a face that stood out among all the rest that made my blood run cold.
“Our intel team was able to figure out who all The Road Rebels were. We have their names, their faces, and their possible roles within the club. They’re all featured here with their assumed titles underneath their names.”
Monaco banged her fist on the board like she’d come up with some ingenious information for us to take in. But I wasn’t focused on the same old bullshit she was spitting. I was focused on that face.
Jace’s fucking face.
Only it wasn’t the name ‘Jace’ that was underneath his picture. Instead, it was ‘Snake.’ Along with the title of ‘Treasurer/Secretary’ underneath his name. And aside from my shock and utter confusion, I had to bite back a giggle.
He would be pissed if anyone tried to call him a fucking secretary.
“So why are we investigating The Road Rebels again?” I asked. “Has there been any evidence found that links what we think the Saints are doing to something they’re doing?”
“There seems to be a lot of… chatter… about some sort of retaliation against them,” Monaco said.
My eyes flickered over to my captain as he folded his arms across his chest.
“Right now, we simply need to know all the players on the field. Even if we can’t see a connection just yet. They aren’t being surveilled-”
“These pictures prove that statement false,” I said.
“They aren’t being heavily surveilled,” Monaco said. “But if the rumors about some sort of attack or retaliation are true, the only people the Saints have to retaliate on are the Rebels.”
“So… we’re doing this to protect them?” I asked.
“We’re doing this, so we don’t put all our eggs in one basket,” Monaco said.
“So… there’s no new information for us,” I said.
“Riley,” my captain said curtly.
“We have their names and faces. I figured that was important. We also have proof that the Saints are offloading things into their compound even though the entrance we have under surveillance hasn’t seen activity in days. That’s serious,” Monaco said.
“Gotcha. So… where do we go from here?” I asked.
I knew exactly where I wanted to fucking go, and that was right up to Jace’s damn doorstep.
Or Snake’s.
Or whoever the fuck this man was.
“If you’ll stop talking,” Monaco said, “I was about to get there.”
So I shut my mouth, cast my anger aside, and listened to the plan Monaco had laid out for us. It was a shit plan, as always. More surveillance, more digging to find proof, more protection for the town until this was settled. I should have known with a government agency there would be all this red tape they had to get through before they took any meaningful action. It was the most pointless meeting I’d ever been a part of, but it made my captain happy that I was there.
And now, it was time for me to make up some fucking excuse so I could go track down Jace.
Snake.
Whoever the fuck this man was that I’d fallen in love with, and get to the bottom of what the hell was going on.