Chapter 20
Laiken
I walked out of the meeting room and headed for my desk. I was dazed, confused, and riddled with hurt. My heart was beating so fast I could no longer count its beats, and I was trying to keep a strong facade with my captain. I knew he would come in here at any moment and ask me what I thought. All of the men around me that were in that meeting were buying the shit Monaco was spitting. They were okay with her using suspicions and mindless chatter to connect dots we couldn’t prove, and it was all in the name of gang wars. I knew how the government looked at cases like this. I knew all they wanted was to clean up the streets. And maybe Monaco’s word was good. Maybe there was a reason to worry.
But I was stuck with two commanding officers who were running based on their guts instead of on proof.
Which meant it was possible Monaco had false information. There was no way on this fucking planet Jace was involved with a motorcycle gang. Sure, he fucking rode one. But that didn’t make him an outlaw. A criminal. According to the files, The Road Rebels were known for running drugs. No one could prove it, and no one had caught them in the act, but that was what the ‘chatter’ on the street was. The Devil Saints were known for prostituting their own women, owning strip clubs with dirty money, and pedaling drugs out of them. At least, that’s what the ‘chatter’ on the street was. But there was no fucking proof. There was nothing that connected them except for some woman and a truck full of drugs that were cut sort of like cartel drugs.
All of this shit smelled funky as hell, and I was pissed that I had been dropped in the middle of it.
Her information had to be false. There was no way Jace was wrapped up on all this. He was angry and could be a hothead, but that didn’t mean he was a gang member. He was selfish. Kept to himself. Crews and gangs have to rely on each other. Depend on each other. Jace was many things, but dependable and reliable were the last two words I’d use to describe him. He was loyal as long as you fucking gave him something, but if there was nothing in it for him, he was gone.
But that picture was so clear. It wasn’t grainy, like the others. It was Jace, without a shadow of a doubt. What the fuck was going on?
Sitting at my desk, I started doing a bit of research myself. A quick internet search popped up several articles on The Road Rebels, including something about a shootout six years ago. I remembered my captain saying something about that, so I clicked on the first article and began to read. Twelve members of the Rebels were found dead, and only circumstantial evidence linked it back to The Devil Saints. No one was charged. No one was convicted. And twelve people died without finding justice for who killed them.
I scrolled through article after article that reported on the killings. Most of them were local newspapers, and a couple were out of towns in the eastern portion of California, near the border with Nevada. I scrolled through endless articles that repeated most of the same thing, but there was one article I found that had a piece of information that hadn’t been mentioned in any other article.
It referenced a name I didn’t recognize.
“Anthony Duboir,” I said.
But there was something else that was there. A picture that went along with the article. It was small as well as in black and white, and expanding it only made it grainy. The picture looked like it had been taken from far away. Like the person was standing across the road behind something. There was a row of what looked to be tipped over motorcycles and objects that were lying on the ground.
Holy shit, those were bodies lying on the ground.
I did an internet search on the photo, but it only popped up in two more places. One of the places was a copy-and-paste job of the article, but the other article had the picture in a higher resolution. I figured it must’ve been the original source of the picture, but my blood froze when I studied it up close. There was a man staring at the camera. Straight through all the carnage and blood that had been spilled on the streets.
And I would recognize those eyes anywhere.
“Riley.”
I quickly clicked my screen out and turned my eyes up towards my captain.
“Lieutenant,” I said.
“I wanted to talk with you about the meeting,” he said.
My heart was thundering in my chest as I closed out the rest of my internet search.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“You’re very persistent about evidence,” he said.
“That’s my job.”
“No, your job is to arrest criminals for their wrongdoings.”
“With evidence to prove their crimes,” I said.
“Look, I know you’re new here, but sometimes… things aren’t as cut and dry as they are in bigger cities. In bigger cities, there are more people to question. There’s always another witness. The streets are so muddled with buildings and cameras and clubs… it’s almost impossible to get away with something because someone somewhere has caught it on something. But in places like this? Dusty old places with gangs and motor cycle clubs that control entire cities? It isn’t always that cut and dry.”
“Sir, it doesn’t matter. We can’t arrest a person on suspicion. No matter how much we think they’re guilty.”
“The Road Rebels and The Devil Saints are guilty, Riley. They waltz around here like they think they’re hot fucking stuff and they pedal drugs into our city. They sell the bodies of their own women to get more money to fuel their disgusting lifestyles. They need to be taken down.”
“And if we want them to be taken down the first time, then we need to do it right,” I said.
What the fuck was going on? I had Jace’s fucking picture up in the DEA’s meeting office. I had a picture of him during some damn shootout fuck-knew-how long ago. I’ve got a captain who’s ready for me to throw the book out the damn window and just arrest people because he’s got some hard-on for cleaning up Henderson. But most importantly I still didn’t have anyone who could give me a fucking honest answer on anything!
I was losing my mind.
“I knew you would be a risk, but I took you on. You bucked up to your captain, talked out of order, and consistently interrupted meetings with questions. When you transferred, your file came with mounds of paperwork. Paperwork that boasted of insubordination. I took you on, Riley, because, despite all that crap, I thought you would be worth it. And it’s time you started showing me that I didn’t make a mistake.”
I stared at my captain in astonishment. Insubordination? What the hell was this asshole talking about? My captain in the LAPD loved me. He constantly wanted me to come in on cases and help them solve shit. If I had to be written up for insubordination, then they had to fucking tell me about it. No one can write shit up on someone without informing them of their actions. Knowing about the write-up was one way that kind of behavior was combated in places like this.
“I can’t tell just yet if you’re trying to threaten me or if you’re serious, but one thing’s for sure. I will not arrest anyone without proper proof. Because the proper proof is what leads to a warrant,” I said.
“You don’t need a warrant to arrest someone. You just need probable cause to bring them in for questioning about the case,” he said.
“Funny. We’ve got an entire motorcycle gang steeped in hardcore evidence, yet we’re allowing the DEA to use them to… what was it? Kill two birds with one stone.”
“It’s the DEA’s case. They’re just using our office and resources to aid them in the process,” he said.
“Then when the DEA tells me to arrest someone to bring them in for questioning, I’ll do it,” I said.
My captain’s eyes were hard on me. And that is when I realized it. Special Agent Monaco was a woman that had descended into his territory, and he was pissed about it. Pissed that a woman was bossing his ass around in his own damn precinct. I knew men like him. I was familiar with the type. And if talking back to him like this cost me my job, then so fucking be it. I wasn’t about to allow a man of his stature to bully me and push me around just because his own fucking ego was fragile.
“Is there anything else?” I asked.
My captain gave me one last look before he stalked out of my office and shut the door.
Sighing, I leaned back into my chair. How the fuck could I have missed this? That was Jace in that picture… in the middle of that damn shootout. There was no question about it. Was that what he was doing when we were dating? All the late fucking nights and the weekends he’d go missing? Was he with his club?
Was he dealing with stuff with The Road Rebels?
I had to hear it from him. I was done trying to put these measly pieces together to get a clear picture of my life. I was done trying to beat around the bush and come to conclusions without confessions. I was tired, I was pissed off, I was beaten down, and I was hurt.
If he was part of a motorcycle gang when we were dating, then I could understand why he wouldn’t tell me. I had dreams of becoming a law enforcement officer even before I met him. And him keeping it from me now would be a move he’d use to protect his club. This new information was slowly revealing a Jace I didn’t know. A Jace that was prioritizing the health and protection of someone above himself. In some twisted way, if I thought about it long enough, he had protected his club from me by keeping the secret and breaking up with me the way he did.
Holy shit, could all of this be connected?
Now I knew I needed to talk with Jace. It was the only way I would know for sure. I shut my computer down and pulled out my cell phone, then toggled through my contacts to find his phone number. I took a deep breath before I pushed the button, then I leaned back in my chair to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
“Hello?”
“Please don’t hang up,” I said.
“Laiken?”
“Jace, just… I need to ask a favor,” I said.
“Are you hurt? Is everything okay?”
No. No, everything wasn’t okay. It was less than okay. Everything was in upheaval, and I was losing my fucking mind. I was a police officer being asked to use suspicion rather than evidence to back up my fucking cases. I was a cop in love with an outlaw, and motorcycle gangs were waging war near my own fucking hometown.
“Can we meet up? Just to talk?” I asked.
“Of course we can. Did something happen at work?” Jace asked.
“I’ll see you at your place. Can you meet in, say, half an hour?”
“See you then,” he said. “Just answer me. Are you okay, Laiken?”
I drew in a deep breath as I sighed, relinquishing myself to the tears that were brewing behind my eyes.
“No,” I said as I shook my head. “No, Snake. I’m really not.”