Chapter 26
Laiken
I walked out of Jace’s home and got back into my car. I could feel his dried come sticking to the side of my fucking leg. I couldn’t believe what was going on. I couldn’t believe what I had just found out about Jace. He was a fucking outlaw belonging to one of the gangs my police department was researching. What the hell had just happened? How the fuck had I not seen this any sooner?
I got into my car and headed back to the police station. I took the long way around, taking some time to clear my head. For the first time in my entire life, I was lost. I was lost on what to think, I was lost on what to say, and I was lost on what to do. Memories of the old Jace came crashing back to me, and I smiled as I drove around town. I found myself driving by our old hotspots. Like where the diner used to be or the park we used to make out at.
I drove by the alley where I first had sex with him. The place where I had first become addicted to him. I drove by the movie theater he took me to whenever I wanted to go out on a date, and I parked in the spot his bike always took up. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, not caring who the hell looked inside. I was consumed with thoughts of him. How he used to smile at me and how gentle his voice used to sound in my ear.
I love the memories I had of Jace. They weren't tainted with the information I now had on him. I could still look at him through the lens of a younger me and see the man I have fallen in love with. The young boy who was still blossoming in his life. I recounted our steps, the places we went to around town and the darkened rocks we would sit on whenever he would take me on bike rides towards the desert. I looked for any signs. Any clues that could have pointed me towards the life he had been leading at that point. I remembered all the times I ever made love to him and tried to see if I could smell him out. Smell the leather on his skin or the drugs on his fingers or the smell of musky cologne as he rode with a group of men from coast to coast.
But there was nothing. There were no warning signs that he was a part of a gang trapped within the confines of my memory.
I was angry at myself. I was better than this. I knew that I could sniff out criminals better than this. I could put pieces together better than this. But the truth of the matter was, my captain had no pieces. The DEA had no pieces. They had drugs that routed back to a cartel that funneled similar drugs into the country. They had pictures, they had probable cause, but they had no proof. The only proof they had was the truckload of drugs found outside The Devil Saints compound... and no arrests had been made. DEA Special Agent Monaco could say whatever the fuck it was she wanted.
There was something very, very wrong with this entire situation.
The Devil Saints should have been arrested on the spot. The moment those drugs were found outside of their compound, every single person present should have been arrested. The DEA still could have conducted their investigation into the cartel once they found that the drugs in the back of the truck were cut similar to the shit being shipped into the country. But no arrests had been made.
Why the fuck not?
One thing I knew about criminal organizations was that the best ones who indulged in the seediest operations could afford to hire the best lawyers. That was where I needed to start. I needed to start by figuring out who the hell represented The Devil Saints. I needed to dig into their past. If Jace was right about how shady they were and if my captain was right about how disgusting they were, then there was a good chance cases had been brought against them before. There was a reason the DEA was going so hard for them. Hell, The Iron Souls had no charges brought against them before the DEA descended into their lives, and they made them a national witch hunt.
I had to get into work and start going through The Devil Saints’ file.
I pulled away from the movie theater and headed straight for work. My mind was centered, and I had a task at hand. I pulled up behind the police station and entered through the back, making my way towards the evidence locker. I knew the most recent files on The Devil Saints were already upstairs, but I wanted everything on them. I wanted everything the police department had on this club. All of the paperwork, all of the evidence, and all of the recordings.
After chatting a little while with my new friend who understood the intricacies of makeup, I left the evidence locker with three boxes in my hand. I expected there to be a lot more, but I would take anything I could get. I stuck to the back hallways and walked up the stairs instead of taking the elevator, and I was able to slip into my office without my captain seeing me. The last thing I wanted to do was try to lie to him about where I had been.
I was not ready to even think about the fact that I had just had intimate sexual relations with an outlaw where we both declared our love for one another.
Love.
Jace had told me he loved me.
I shut the thought from my head and got to work. I had to do my job. I could not take the time right now to justify being in love with a criminal. If The Devil Saints were doing what Jace said they were doing, then he was right. They were the ones that needed to be taken out first. So, I started going through their files. I arranged everything in the three boxes by date, then I started with the earliest documents. I scanned every piece of paper and went over every picture, taking notes as I went along. Notes of Presidential changes and names of people who kept popping up in documents. Court cases that were brought against them and people who had conveniently gone missing. I read through newspaper articles and magazine articles that talked about events the police department tried to connect to this club. Prostitution rings and illegal strip clubs. Drug running and gun slinging. Unsolved murders and body parts that were found in rivers close to their compound.
All shit that couldn't be proven, but all shit that smelled like The Devil Saints. ------
But there was one name that kept popping up. One name that continued to be jotted down in my notes.
Carmichael.
The first Carmichael mentioned was Derek. A small town boy born on the outskirts of Las Vegas who grew up and established one of the first private law firms that serviced the mobsters who took over the city. Or so it was rumored. He never employed another lawyer to help him, and he never outsourced his work. He became a very rich man very quickly, and then he had a son.
Mason Carmichael.
Mason's name appeared a great deal in the documents, and it didn't shock me when I figured out that he had taken over his father's practice. The law firm on the outskirts of Vegas continue to pump in massive amounts of money without ever hiring another lawyer onto its payroll, and that’s when pieces started falling into place. Mason Carmichael made a name for himself in Vegas by ‘defending those who couldn't defend themselves,’ and soon branched out in the criminal world.
He always appeared in court with someone who was known to be associated with the mob, but there were a few times where he appeared with the heads of the gang as well.
Mason eventually went on to marry a dancer from one of the strip clubs. They had a happy life, and Mason continued to dabble in court proceedings with the mobsters as well as with random gang members. He was trying to expand on his father’s business model, but then I came across his obituary.
A sudden death that left his wife and his son without him.
Guess the mob didn’t enjoy him branching out.
Now his son, Daniel Carmichael, owned the law firm. It was in a different place now, but it was the same one. Rebranded with a different name, but still, the same sleazy Carmichael that was running it. Daniel’s name was peppered throughout the recent literature on The Devil Saints and was even in news articles giving quotes for the club on their behalf.
He was not only their lawyer, but he was also their fucking public relations representative.
That was who I need to focus on. This Daniel Carmichael. His family apparently had a long history of helping criminals, so it made sense that he was helping The Devil Saints. A little bit of digging and a trip to the courthouse for public records helped me to find that the business he was running was still his grandfather's. Rebranded under a different name-- probably so he could get away from the mob-- but still the same old business model.
But Daniel Carmichael was intelligent.
He wasn’t a regular person, so to speak. A graduate from Harvard Law School, he was in the Top 10% of his class. He was a part of MENSA, the ultimate party club for those with a high I.Q. He all but aced his SAT’s as well as his LSAT and his bar exam, and he was known in the community as the man to go to whenever you needed answers.
I had no idea what the fuck that meant, but I knew it wasn't good.
His name was on each and every court document The Devil Saints had on them spanning back two decades. This man was lining his pockets with money by getting The Devil Saints off on things that should have landed their asses in jail for years. He was profiting off their disgusting acts by keeping them in the clear when they should have been paying for their sins.
This was how The Devil Saints needed to be taken down. They needed to have Daniel Carmichael out of the picture.
Then they would be all on their own.