"Don't go over there," Candice cautions me as she sees me heading for our apartment door.
"I'm not, don't worry," I assure her. "Just going for a jog." The night that Ford offered me his patch, I came back here and Candice told me that he'd been seen hanging around The Spot. She had to physically block the door to stop me from heading down there and kicking someone's ass.
"Everything will work out," she tells me with a hopeful smile. I nod back, much less hopefully, and shut the door behind me.
I head for my car. I lied to Candice. I'm actually headed to meet up with Drew. I don't want to see him right now, but he said if I didn't show up he'd come down to the Keep again.
I check my phone at every stoplight. I've called Ford a dozen times, but he hasn't answered. Candice says that if I go over to his place I'll only look desperate, but the truth is I am desperate. I feel like my body is aching for lack of his touch.
I don't see a way out of this situation I've found myself in. I'm in love with Ford, but I'm investigating him and his club. And now he won't even talk to me because I said I wouldn't become his old lady. I just couldn't say yes. To accept his proposal while still lying to him would have been the biggest betrayal of all.
Since I've been with him, I've allowed myself to imagine a future where we're together. Drew's right, I have lost my objectivity. When Ford asked me if I want kids someday, I couldn't tell him the truth: that I not only want kids, I want his kids, and I have their names already picked out.
When I pull up at the trailhead, I see Drew's car already parked. To take out some of my frustration, I do actually jog my way to the fork. He looks serious as I run up to him. Maybe he's going to apologize for coming down to the Keep. I hope so, I don't have the energy for another argument with him.
"You okay?" he asks me, examining my face.
"I was going to ask you the same thing," I reply tightly.
"Well, I'm not," he says. I don't respond, but wait for him to continue. "Okay, so you're pissed at me, but that bug did get us some information. We know how the Death Dealers have been staying ahead of us."
That gets my attention. "How?" I ask.
"Tank's an FBI informant."
My jaw drops. "Are you fucking serious? He's always drilling them about loyalty, and he's a rat?"
"Yep. He's been turning over other criminals in exchange for the FBI leaving him and the Death Dealers alone. In fact, he killed the old president for the opportunity."
"Sonofabitch," I swear. "Well, at least it's not someone in your own department."
"Our own department."
"That's what I meant. I'm surprised you're even telling me this, considering you think I'm so 'compromised.'"
"There's more," he tells me. "You're not going to like this part."
"Okay…"
"The FBI agents he's working with pressed Tank to turn over someone else, and he did. He gave them Ford."
"For what? I'm sure he's just done the same as the rest of them."
"Not exactly. Tank claims he beat a prospect from Spiders MC to death in front of a ton of witnesses."
"No," I reply automatically. "Must've been self-defense or something."
"Tank says Ford killed him because he didn't want to leave any witnesses. Says another brother wanted to shoot him, but Ford insisted on beating him with his bare hands."
"I just… I don't believe he's capable of that," I whisper, feeling cold.
"You've never thought he seemed dangerous? Or capable of violence?"
"Of course he's capable of violence, he's a former SEAL," I snap.
"So then is it so hard to believe this could be true?" I'm silent, mulling over his words. "I get that you have feelings for him, but you need to get out now."
"What about being undercover? What about the mission?"
"We know Tank's working for the Feds now, and soon we'll get something on him that we can use in court. The Lieutenant and I both agree that you can't stay undercover anymore. Not with someone like Ford."
"He's not even… We're not…" I feel a ball of pain rise in my throat as I struggle to explain that I'm not sure Ford even wants anything to do with me anyway.
"Take a couple days and tie things up. Don't leave too suspiciously, just in case. Maybe say you need to go back to Seattle for a family emergency or something."
"Yeah," I reply.
"Marie, you did good," Drew says, laying his hand on my shoulder. "Now you can go back to a normal life. Back to being a cop."
"Right," I reply. "I know."
"Just let me know when you're ready to come back."
"Sure, got it," I reply, turning away and heading down the trail. I know where I have to go. I can't leave without seeing him again.
The information Drew told me runs through my mind on a never-ending loop as I speed over to Ford's. I never even told Drew about how Ford kidnapped me… but it made sense to me at the time. He had to protect his MC and make sure I wasn't a threat. But now, I can't stop questioning what I know about him.
I pull into Ford's driveway, and see his bike and his truck parked there. He has to be home. I steel myself as I walk up to the door and take out my keys. I never gave them back to him, and I'm worried that if I knock, he won't open the door.
I quietly unlock the door and step inside. I can hear him moving around in the kitchen. I shut the door, and the noise stops.
"It's me," I call out. I walk a few steps forward, and he turns the corner from the kitchen into the front hallway.
I soften the instant I see him. I know this man, I'm sure of it. His posture is tense, but I can see that the overwhelming feeling in his eyes is pain, not anger.
"What do you want?"
"I need to ask you… First, I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize."
"I think I do…"
"If you don't want to be with me, you don't want to be with me," he says with a shrug and heads back into the kitchen. "Nothing to apologize for." I follow him.
"I heard you were at The Spot the other night."
"So? Is that what you wanted to ask me about?"
"No. But were you?"
"Yep. I'm a free man, far as I can tell." I wait, watching him. "I didn't do anything. Not that I didn't have the opportunity," he finally tells me. "I'm surprised you'd even care."
"Of course I…" I stop myself. I can't be with him, and I can't explain why, so I shouldn't even get into it. "I need to ask you about something else." He looks up at me expectantly. "I heard that you…"
"What?" he asks, his expression now closed-off and distant.
"I heard that there was a prospect from another club, and you…you killed him. You beat him to death in cold blood."
"You heard that, huh?" he asks, his eyes narrowing. "From who?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it fucking does," he replies.
"From what I hear, there were plenty of witnesses," I counter.
"Well, then it must be true," he says, and turns to get a beer out of the fridge.
"I don't believe it."
"Sure you do. You must believe it a little, or you wouldn't be here."
"You kidnapped me! I know there's something inside you that—"
"And there's something inside you, too," he points out. "I thought we saw each other clearly, but I guess not."
"So you didn't do it."
"It doesn't matter. You think I did."
"I don't know! I'm here asking you if—"
"No! No, I didn't kill him!" he bursts out. "I disobeyed a direct order from Tank. I knew that Taz would shoot him in the head if I didn't do something."
"But people saw you beat him…"
"Yeah, they saw me beat him, but I didn't kill him. I've been in war. I know how to kill a man if I want to. I bloodied him up enough that they all thought he was dead, and then used his phone to call 911 right after so that the ambulance would find him in time."
"I, fuck, I…"
"Oh, and that time I saw you in the basement of the clubhouse? I was there to release Uncle. I thought no one would notice in the middle of the party. But then you ruined that plan, so I had to come back later, at a much riskier time. Happy? Am I a good enough man for you now?"
"Ford, I, I don't know what to say…" I stumble.
"I never judged you. Never," he reminds me.
"You're right. You're right, I'm so sorry, I—"
"I think you should go. And I don't think you should come back."
"There's so much I want to be able to tell you," I whisper.
"But you won't."
"I can't." More than anything, what I want to do is warn him. Tank's selling him out, and he has no idea. But there's no way for me to do it without blowing my cover.
He shakes his head at me. "Your keys," he says, reaching his hand out. I hold them out to him, and our fingers brush against each other's. I see the anger in his eyes falter for a moment, but then it's back.
I turn for the door, as a wave of pain unlike anything I've ever experienced hits me. I stop. "I do love you," I say. I wait, but he doesn't reply.
Somehow, I make my legs move and manage to walk out the door. I shut it behind me, and head for my car, knowing that's the last time I'll ever see Ford, unless I'm seeing him behind bars.