CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

 

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” Blood lifted his chin toward the retreating back of the big black detective who’d been talking to AJ. The man had spent way too much time talking to her and Blood realized he needed to set her straight on how things worked within the club.

The detective exited out the front door. He was the last to leave after Undertaker had been taken away and the clubhouse had been searched thoroughly. Damn assholes had ripped the place apart for almost two hours.

AJ shook her head, ignoring his question, and wiping the tears in her eyes. “Why is this happening?”

“Babe, look at me,” Blood growled, not about to be put off. “Who was he to you?”

“He was one of the detectives on the case of my husband’s murder four years ago. He’s a friend. At least, I thought he was.”

“Cops aren’t friends. Not around here.”

“He was mine.”

“AJ, you’re involved with the President of an MC. You can’t be friendly with him or anyone else on the force. Understand?”

She nodded. “Okay. I get it.”

Blood moved closer. “What’d he say to you? Tell me everything.”

“He was shocked to find me here. Wanted to know why.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“That it was none of his business.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“AJ, you talked for longer than that.”

“He told me Undertaker was wanted for the arson of my building. I told him that was ridiculous. He pointed out to me how you were all criminals, not boy scouts, and that your club was involved in criminal activity—activity they’d been monitoring for years but hadn’t been able to prove. Said there were murders in the quarter and more down on the gulf that the club was suspected of involvement in, but that they hadn’t been able to prove it. He also told me how dangerous it was for me to be anywhere near here. He wanted to take me out of here, but I wouldn’t go.” She rubbed her hands over her upper arms and stared toward the door. “I need to go see Undertaker. I need to see him, Blood. Will you take me?”

“Anything you’re not tellin’ me?” He pinned her with a don’t-fuckin’-lie-to-me look.

“No! I told you everything. Now take me to Undertaker, please, Blood.”

“The club’s attorney is already on his way to meet them at the jail. There’s nothing we can do right now but wait.”

“I don’t want to wait. I need to see him, Blood. He needs to know I love him…”

Blood put his hands on her shoulders. “He knows, babe.”

She looked up with pleading eyes. “Please take me.”

He shook his head. “You can’t see him now. They won’t let you. He has to be processed. Eventually they’ll let Richardson in to see him. We have to wait until then. See what he’s able to find out.”

“How am I supposed to just sit here and wait?”

“Maybe you should go stay with Cat at our place, get some rest. I can have one of the boys take you.”

“No! I’m not leaving here until we hear something. Don’t even think about it.”

“Okay, babe. Okay. You want a drink?”

“No, I don’t want a drink.” She fell against Blood. “I want Undertaker.”

His hand moved over her back. “I know, honey. I know.” He lifted his chin to Mama Ray who stood near the bar, signaling her for help.

Mama Ray walked over and patted her back. “Come on, honey. You’ve got to buck up, show some strength. You wanna be an Evil Dead ol’ lady, the ol’ lady of the club’s President, then you’re gonna have to toughen up. These boys find trouble all the time. You gotta hold it together and be strong.”

AJ twisted out of Blood’s arms to look back at her. “Six months ago I led a boring life. Now everyone wants me to be queen of the bikers. And I have no idea how.”

“Just love him, that’s what he needs from you,” Mama Ray advised. “Look, you’re never gonna be like anybody else here, and that’s okay. Hell, we were all shocked at first when you two hooked up, me especially, but you’re exactly what he needs.”

“I do love him, but is that enough?”

“If Undertaker didn’t think you were enough, believe me, you wouldn’t be here enfolded in this family the way you have been, the way he wanted you to be. Understand?”

She nodded.

“Now come on. If those idiots didn’t tear up my kitchen, I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then I’ll make you some coffee.”

Blood watched Mama Ray lead AJ away and felt Mooch’s presence at his side. He turned his head and met his gaze.

“She gonna make it?” Mooch asked.

Blood nodded. “She’ll be fine. You hear anything yet?”

“Nope. Still waitin’.”

“They gone?” Blood asked, referring to the cops.

“Yup. Didn’t find anything but a couple of baseball bats and a five star security system. They ain’t got shit.”

“We need to pass the word around. Everybody stays straight and on alert. They’ll be watchin’ us for a long time.”

Mooch agreed. “You got that right. Fucking hell.”

They moved to the bar to wait for a call while they texted every member.

 

***

 

It was four hours later when the club’s attorney finally walked in the door. Blood, Mooch, and now AJ were all sitting together at the bar. Blood twisted when he heard the door open. He’d seen the Mercedes turn in on the security monitor above the bar.

Luckily, AJ hadn’t noticed it; she stared in a daze at the empty coffee cup in front of her. She’d been quiet for the last hour, deep in thoughts of her own. Blood supposed that was better than crying.

Mooch stood, finishing off his drink. Blood stood, too, his eyes connecting with the attorney and lifting his chin toward the stairs.

The attorney nodded and followed him and Mooch up.

They moved down the hall, pausing at the door where the club’s meetings were held. Blood didn’t need to unlock it; the police had kicked the door, splintering the lock. He paused in the doorway as the others walked in. His gaze was drawn down the hall as he saw AJ approaching. He stopped her at the door. “This is club business, babe. Sorry.”

“I need to know, Blood,” she pleaded.

“Let her in,” Mooch ordered.

Blood’s eyes connected with his. The man was his VP, and so he made the decisions with Undertaker unavailable, but still. “You sure?”

Mooch nodded. “He’d want her to know.”

Blood stepped aside, letting her pass, then closed the door and moved to the table where the club’s attorney, Carl Richardson, was opening his briefcase.

“How is he?” AJ asked without preamble.

Richardson’s eyes swept over her and then looked to Mooch for permission to tell her.

Mooch nodded.

Richardson turned back. “He’s fine. A little pissed off, but fine.”

“Lay it out for us,” Mooch ordered. “What do they have?”

“Talked to the DA. They think they’ve got this one locked up tight.”

“How? He didn’t do it.” Blood insisted.

“They’ve got his prints on the gas can found at the scene.”

“That could be a setup,” Mooch argued.

The attorney’s eyes swung to him, nodding. “Yeah, but they’ve got him on surveillance video. You want to explain that one?”

Mooch shook his head. “Gotta be someone else. Can’t be Undertaker. He didn’t do it.”

“And you know that for a fact?”

“He said so, and that’s good enough for me.” Mooch took a step toward him.

The man lifted his hands. “Okay. I hear you.”

“You got access to the surveillance?” Blood asked.

He nodded.

Mooch lifted his chin. “Let us see it, then.”

The man removed his laptop from his briefcase, opened it, and pulled up a copy of the footage. Mooch and Blood leaned over his shoulders, watching it with AJ squeezing in, too.

There he was, plain as day, walking in and out of the building. The timestamp on the footage read 6:45 a.m.

“Fucking hell,” Blood bit out. “That can’t be real.”

AJ took a step back, her mouth falling open. “Oh, my God.”

“AJ—” Blood turned to her, but her eyes were on the shot of Undertaker, where the attorney had frozen the tape. It showed him coming out of the building, his face plain as day.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she whispered. “He was with me. How can he be on this tape?”

“There’s something else at work here. Undertaker didn’t do this, but someone is going to a whole lot of trouble to make it look like he did it.”

AJ shook her head over and over. “This can’t be happening. It can’t be happening.”

“Babe, pull it together.” Blood dipped his head toward hers. The last thing he needed was her falling apart again. “When’s the last time you ate something?”

“I couldn’t eat if I wanted to.”

“There’s nothing we can do until the bail hearing tomorrow. Why don’t you call one of your girlfriends; go stay with one of them. You need someone with you tonight.”

She stared up at him with glassy eyes. “Tell me he didn’t have anything to do with this, Blood.”

“He didn’t have anything to do with this, AJ. I promise you. And we’ll get to the bottom of this, but you need to get some rest.”

“I love him, Blood, and I’m terrified of losing him.”

“You’re not going to lose him. Come here.” He pulled her into his arms and rubbed the back of her neck, his eyes going over her head to Mooch, but the man didn’t look like he knew any better than Blood how to reassure her.

She whispered against his chest, “He can’t go back to prison, Blood. I’m afraid he may not survive it this time.”

“He’s not going back to prison. You can’t let yourself think that way. Now go get some rest.”

“Promise you’ll call me immediately if you hear something?”

“I promise.”

She reluctantly picked up her bag. “Thank you.”

“Go.”

When she walked off, Mooch stepped over to him. “She okay?”

“Yeah. It’s gonna take more than Undertaker going to jail to end that relationship. Seems like she’s determined to stand by him.”

Mooch nodded. “She sees the good in him. Undertaker needs someone like that—someone who’s going to stand by him and love him no matter what.”

“Yeah, he does, and it’s been a long time comin’,” Blood replied, his eyes watching her walk away.

 

***

 

Undertaker shuffled in his shackles back to lockup. His bond had been denied. That wasn’t a shock to him. Richardson had argued strongly for bail, but there was no way the judge was letting him out; they both knew that.

The cuffs on his hands were attached to a chain around his waist, and another chain was shackled to his ankles. He shuffled in a line with three other defendants who’d also had their bail denied; one was brought up on charges of rape and two on murder. Apparently it had been a busy night in the parish.

Undertaker took in the feel of the heavy weight on his wrists, the feel of the cold metal, and the sound of the chains. It all took him back to Angola. He remembered every detail of his arrival on the white prison bus, his first look at the place; hell, he could even smell the damn onion fields and feel the hot sun broiling down on him.

As he shuffled along he was forced to face his biggest fear—going back to that fucking place, a place he’d sworn to never return. But the eager district attorney, who’d looked across the courtroom at him and smirked, would see to it, making sure he received the maximum sentence.

He felt everything slipping through his fingers; he was losing it all in the blink of an eye. He saw the love he had for AJ being torn away, just like it had with Angie. It was all happening again; history was repeating itself in a cruel and spiteful cycle, and he felt helpless to stop it. He knew he was being set up, but that didn’t matter; he could still go down for this.

He didn’t want to give up hope, but he felt it leaving him, being sucked out of him like the air before a storm. He was going back to prison.

He shook his head silently.

No, his worst fear now was losing everything he’d found—finally found after all these years—when AJ had strutted into his clubhouse. It was as if fate had tempted him, shown him a flash of what heaven could be and then viciously torn it all away just as quickly.

He kept walking, shuffling along in the line, his head down, his body starting to sweat. And when he was finally back in lockup, he put his head in his hands and let himself descend into the depths of the deepest depression he’d ever felt. He saw himself holding a boulder and sinking to the bottom of the darkest ocean, the light above him fading away, and with it, any shred of a chance he’d ever had with AJ.