Chapter 14

Marc

I heard Drum loud and clear when he told me I have to leave Heart’s lovely house. The place that’s helped me feel safe and secure. The out of the way home where no one could find me. Now I’ve got to rent somewhere myself and have my name and address listed on records.

Parking the Suzuki next to its stablemate, I leave the garage and enter the house via the door that connects to the kitchen. My head feels heavy, two days of hard riding have taken their toll. Sure, Drummer told me to me to find new accommodation, but that means I’ve got to pour over available and affordable places to rent, and that’s not going to happen overnight. I’m not going to pack and move out when my only option is to live on the streets like someone who’s homeless, even if that is what I am. Surely even he must realise it’s going to take me some time to sort out somewhere new.

It’s not that I don’t understand or appreciate his reasoning, but for the past few months Heart’s been my friend, and I’ve not really thought of him as a member of an outlaw motorcycle gang. But now he’s being accepted back into the fold, if I want to hold onto my job I do need to keep my distance. If he let anything slip it would be my duty to report it in.

But I didn’t do my duty in the Demon Sons’ clubhouse.

I condoned, by default, what I suspected was going on in the basement. They had hardly taken the men down there for a friendly chat. Haven’t I already crossed that line? How can I be a good cop if I let things like that slide? Or even be prepared to go into a situation with guns blazing. I killed a man and watched others murdered in front of me. The first time I’ve ever pointed and used a gun in earnest against a living breathing human being. But it saved Heart.

I dragged my feet as I reluctantly left the hospital, feeling I was leaving my only friend in the world, and without saying goodbye. I wanted to stay, to see Heart make a recovery with my own eyes. I’d had to plead for Drummer to allow me to wait around long enough to make sure he regained consciousness. Over the past few months, Heart seems to have become a big part of my life, and now, as quickly as a switch being thrown, I’m no longer allowed to have any contact with him.

My head warns me it might be for the best if I was letting him get too close. I wouldn’t be feeling this loss so deeply if I hadn’t begun to get feelings. Maybe it’s all for the better.

Wearing my sensible hat, Drummer had done exactly the right thing. Law enforcement regards anyone in a one-percenter MC as criminals, whether or not they’ve been charged with criminal activity or have done time. Unless I was officially sanctioned to infiltrate the group, my association with any of them would be open to question. And, if I had continued my friendship with Heart, the club would always have treated me with suspicion, and I’d have been unable to convince them I wasn’t a plant.

And I’d have been the first one to get the blame if something went wrong. I’ve already seen how they treat enemies of the club.

I hadn’t missed how the normally easy-going VP had looked at me. It wasn’t with the air of someone who wanted to be my friend.

But I want to know how Heart’s getting on. I want to hear about Amy. I want to be included in his life in some small way. I freeze. That’s why I don’t get involved with people. When they are no longer there it leaves too big a hole.

I close my eyes and rest my head, and immediately see Heart’s face in front of me. We’ve barely spoken face to face, and yet I’m going to miss him. It feels like part of my life has been taken away.

The heel of my hand slaps against my forehead. Don’t be so stupid, woman. You were there when Heart needed you, now he’s moved on. It’s time to focus on getting back to full fitness and returning to normality. Going back to work and doing your job. But can I ever be the same now I’ve sided with criminals?

Going back to work and dealing with the likes of Garza and Reynolds. Now isn’t that an uplifting thought?

After drinking wine and popping a couple of painkillers, I go to bed in the room that had been prepared for a man. This is such a comfortable, homely house, I’ll feel sad leaving it.

Forcing myself to put my injured friend out of my mind, the next couple of days I spend looking through ads and trawling the rental agencies. But I’ve been spoiled, and the likes of the house I’m in is way out of reach of what I can afford. Having once been attacked in my own home, I pay particular attention to security, nothing too close to the street so another car could pass by. And I need a garage, of course, so an apartment is out.

Three days after I returned from LA, I hear the sound of Harleys coming up the street. For a moment my heart leaps, but of course it’s not Heart. When I left him he was unable to get out of the hospital bed, let alone ride. No, neither one of the two riders pulling up outside is the person I want most to see. The opposite in fact, it’s the least.

The only reason why Drummer, president of the Satan’s Devils MC is riding up to the house, must be to forcibly evict me from the house. He’s even brought a man with him to help. The thought makes me giggle. I must have impressed him if he can’t handle me on his own.

He bangs on the door instead of using the bell.

Opening it, I hold up my hand, palm pointing toward him. “I know, Drummer. I’m sorry I’ve outstayed my welcome. I’ve been trying to find somewhere else…”

“Invite me in. We need to talk.”

“Look, if you’ve come to kick me out, I’ll just grab my things and go to stay at a hotel or something.”

He stares but says nothing, the steely cold grey of his eyes makes me shiver. This isn’t my house, and he isn’t my friend, and I don’t think I’ve got any option. I step aside. He nods and beckons to the man on the other bike. Safety in numbers. Even the prez needs a witness when talking to the law.

I walk over to one of the couches and stand behind it, my hand on the back. “I can leave today.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

What?

As my eyebrow rises he adds, “Not yet, anyway. Been talking to Heart. He reckons you need protection and he reminded me this house is rented under a shell name. So you can stay here as long as you like. Heart won’t be coming back here, so for all intents and purposes, you’re the new tenant.”

That won’t work. “I can’t pay, Drummer. I don’t know what the rent is, but it’s certainly more than I can afford.” I bite my lip, remembering the level of rent of the shabbier properties I’ve been looking at.

“Club owes you for what you did for our brother. He could have died twice over if it wasn’t for you. We’ll accept payment the same as what you were payin’ at your old place.”

“That’s too generous.” My eyes have gone wide at the offer I’m having difficulty processing.

Unlike me, who remains standing, Drummer sits down. The other biker stands by the door, hands clasped behind his back. For a moment I have the wild thought that he’s there to stop me escaping.

Drummer stretches his arms out to either side, his hands resting on the top of the other couch, his legs bent at the knee and splayed wide. He gives me that look again, the one that means I work hard to suppress a shudder. And I wonder if it’s one I can perfect when interviewing suspects.

“Heart said a few things. Such as you lookin’ into matters you might not have been supposed to. You want to explain to me about that?”

Knowing this won’t be a quick conversation, I move around to the front of the couch and sit down opposite him, appreciating the irony in a cop being questioned by a suspected felon. I run my hands over my face, ready to curb my tongue, but knowing he’ll already know everything I spilled to Heart. I sigh. “Archer is guilty. But I can’t prove it. I went looking for something to prove I’m right.”

“Let it drop. Guilty or innocent, the man’s dead. Won’t make no difference to Crystal or Heart.”

“I know it doesn’t alter what happened, but it should still matter. We should be able to identify the man who ran them off the road.” I frown. I may have slid a little, but I’m a good cop and hate loose ends.

“Your sergeant told you to leave it alone?”

I nod. “Sergeant Reynolds, yes. And my new partner,” my face twists, showing what I think of him, “Garza. Before I was hurt, I got the impression Garza was watching me. Stopping me from looking into things too deeply.”

“So you continued to do your research in your own time on your own.”

I nod. “Yes, I was examining all the files.”

“Using your work computer and your work database.”

I look up, surprised. “I don’t think I told Heart that.”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense, the only way someone could know what you were doing.” Drum sits forward. “Must admit, Marcia, my initial reaction was for you to take this through the proper channels to the police.”

“I don’t know who to trust.”

“I figured that.” He taps his fingers on his thighs. “And then Heart told me you were askin’ about Satan’s Devils involvement.”

Again my face twists, and my cheeks redden. “Probably shouldn’t have mentioned that,” I admit. And my eyes flit to the man guarding the door.

“Why?” Drummer brings my attention back to him.

“Why?”

“Why finger us?” He gazes at me intently, as if he’d be able to catch me out in a lie.

My head’s fuzzy, I put my hands up to my face.

“Well?”

I lift my head. “I’m not being evasive, Drummer. I got a skull fracture, remember? Some things from that night… The stuff I was looking through, it’s shadowy and I don’t recall anything that makes much sense. But I’ve got the feeling I was making progress. I remember Slick’s name.” I stand up and start to pace. Drummer keeps quiet as I try and figure it out. Why had I targeted the Satan’s Devils? Why had I remembered the name Slick? What led me to him?

Shaking my head, I stop and turn around. “I’m sorry, Drum, I can’t remember. I… Hang on.” Through the mist something’s becoming clearer. “Yes. Archer.” I swing around, now animated. “Archer had done something which made me suspicious. Archer had… Archer.” Suddenly it hits me like a light bulb going off. “Archer had filed a report on a missing person, but the thing is, I don’t think she’s missing,” I say triumphantly as it comes back to me.

“Who was missin’, or not, as the case may be, darlin’?”

“Jayden,” I breathe out. “Jayden Greenway.”

Drummer goes deathly still. If I thought his eyes were cold before, they are glacial now. I’ve said something that he really doesn’t like.

I continue thinking out loud. “I was going to go and visit her mother to see what was going on…”

Suddenly he’s on his feet, his hand wrapping almost painfully around the back of my neck as he turns my head up to face him, and I get that intense stare head on. “You ain’t gonna see anyone. You’re gonna keep out of anything that’s not your fuckin’ business. And right now, you’re on sick leave. So even police business isn’t yours.”

Would I find a Satan’s Devils connection if I went looking? Not one to back down, I try to meet his gaze with a steely one of my own. “What are you hidin’, Drummer?”

He huffs a mirthless laugh, then abruptly releases me. He starts to pace, shaking his head as his feet touch the ground. Suddenly he stops, and his face turns toward me. “For a cop you can be pretty stupid, darlin’.”

Of course I bristle. “I just want to do my job.”

“It ain’t your job at the moment.” Another shake, and then he goes on. “You fingered Slick for the bombmaker. I’ll tell you this now, if Slick built two bombs, one that destroyed a house and one that was thrown into yours, he’d make damn certain that he left no callin’ card. The explosives would have been different. Slick knows his trade.”

He’s admitting to nothing, but has given me food for thought.

“What you need to do is use that fuckin’ head on yer shoulders. If the explosive was the same, who, apart from the bombmaker, could know how to build it to the same specifications? And who would benefit?”

“Apart from the bombmaker? Who you’re suggesting can’t be Slick, as he’s too clever.”

Drum raises his eyes to the ceiling and then gives me a sad look as though I’m a child. Making me jump, he barks out, “Think, woman! Fuckin’ think! Who knew the same explosives were used, the same detonator and timer?”

“Garza? He was the one who told me.”

He nods as he would to a child who’d got the answer to a math problem right. “And how would he know?”

“The forensic evidence.” That’s an obvious one. My teeth worry my lip. There’s something I’m missing, and all this talking is making my head pound. Then it dawns on me what he’s saying. “The police would have the information as how to make another bomb similar to the first.”

“Fuckin’ got it at last.”

Now I’m the one shaking my head. “They’d go to all that trouble to get rid of me?”

“You’ve got on the wrong side of someone, darlin’.”

“And they want to make it look like the same person who killed Archer had killed me.” That they hadn’t succeeded was down to luck, and that I’d been doing the research they tried to stop me doing. If I hadn’t been so engrossed that night I’d been in bed, and would now be dead. I breathe out the words as I say the unthinkable. “Garza and Reynolds?”

“They’re the ones you’ve fingered.” Now I get a look of sympathy. “If you won’t leave things alone, you’ve got to be very clever from here on in, Marcia. I’ve told you to stop what you’re doin’, but I think you’re too pig-headed to do that.”

I plop down on a chair and put my head in my hands. I knew Garza had been watching me carefully, and Reynolds protecting Archer’s memory. But to cold-bloodedly plan to kill me? Could I see them doing that? But Drummer has a point. And looking at it his way makes one hell of a lot more sense than anything I’ve come up with. Unless he’s just trying to put up a smokescreen to hide the Satan’s Devils’ involvement. I shiver. They hadn’t killed me, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try again. Is Drummer setting out red herrings for me? Trying to get me to follow false trails?

I raise my eyes and find he’s standing in front of me. “Or you’re trying to redirect me away from your club.”

I haven’t angered him. The opposite. He lifts one corner of his mouth in the approximation of a smile.

“If I tell you I’m puttin’ a prospect here to watch over you, you’ll think I’m doing that to keep tabs on you. But it’s for your protection, darlin’. Least I can do for you, seeing as all you did for Heart.”

And with that parting shot which I’m still trying to interpret, he leaves.