CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The clubhouse was quiet, so the sound of the front door opening drew attention. Blood glanced up from where he stood by a table, going over the evidence they had on Undertaker, to see AJ approaching.

“Can I talk to you, Blood?”

“Not now, babe.” He turned back to Bug and growled, “I’m trying to figure out how they got him on the surveillance tape when he didn’t do it. How the hell is this possible?”

Bug hadn’t seen the tape yet and sat down to study it. He rewound and looked at it several times. “Wait. What time did they say this fire started?”

“Early morning sometime. Fire Department got the call just after seven. Why?”

“Let me pull up the map of the address. Hang on.” Once he had the map up, he studied the location. “Which door is the camera aimed at?”

“Side door. Left side.” Blood pointed at the street image pulled up on the laptop. “There, that one.”

Bug shook his head. “If this footage is from the camera on that door, then this video is bullshit. There’s no way. Not if the fire started in the morning.”

“What are you talking about?” Blood leaned down, looking at the computer screen. “How can you tell?”

“Look at the map. The business faces east. Here’s the entrance they say the camera is at, right? It’s on the south side of the building.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So if the sun is rising, the light would be coming from the east, lighting up that side of him and casting the shadow on the west side. It’s the opposite in this video. See?” Bug pulled up the video again. “Look where his shadow is. This is him going in and out of the business when the sun is setting, not rising.”

Blood straightened, staring at the screen. “What the fuck? So someone switched the tapes?”

Bug shrugged. “Easy enough to re-label them or obtain it and edit this in. This is just a small piece of the digital recording, so I can’t tell without having the whole thing, but yeah, that’s what happened.”

“Who the hell would go to all this trouble to set him up for this?”

“That’s the million dollar question. I’m guessing Undertaker may have an idea.”

Blood blew out a slow breath, staring at the screen. “I need to go talk to him.”

AJ interrupted again. “Blood, I’ve got to tell you something.”

He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “Can it wait, AJ?”

“No. This is important. I found something.”

That had him dropping his hand, his focus sharpening. “What?”

She took out her phone, scrolled through it, and turned it to face him.

Blood’s eyes dropped from hers to the screen. He studied the shot, AJ in bed with Undertaker. They were laughing. It looked like Undertaker had his arm out taking the shot with the phone. They looked happy. He wasn’t sure why the fuck she’d show him this, so his eyes flicked up to her. “And?”

“The date stamp on the photo file says 6:45 a.m. This proves he’s innocent. I was in bed with him, here, in his room at the clubhouse when the fire happened. There’s no way he could have been at the clinic at the time they say.”

Blood’s eyes moved over the top of her head to Bug for confirmation about the timestamp.

He shook his head. “They’ll say it was manipulated.” Bug held his hand out. “Let me see it.”

She passed it over.

He studied it while she and Blood exchanged a worried glance.

“Wait a minute. This will work.”

“How?” Blood asked.

Bug turned the screen. “Look closer. What’s on the television in the background? That’s CNN with a live report about the President landing on Air Force One when he attended that Trade summit in London.”

“Yeah, so?”

Bug spun back to his laptop and his fingers flew over the keyboard as he pulled up the news reports. He leaned closer and read the report. “Yep, right here. Says he landed at 12:45 p.m. London time. That’s 6:45 a.m. our time.” He spun to face them. “The picture proves absolutely he was with AJ here. The Women’s Center is at least twenty minutes away. For the DA to put him at the scene, they’re gonna have a problem trying to make that timeline work.”

Blood’s eyes cut to AJ. “You realize this photo would become public? It would be all over the media—you in bed with the president of a local MC. Have you thought this through?”

Her chin came up. “I don’t care. When they see this, they’ll have to drop the charges.”

“Wouldn’t go that far. They may still go to trial. They’ve been after us for a long time. Having charges on the President?” He shook his head. “That’s a bone they won’t be so quick to let go off.”

Her shoulders dropped, and her eyes glassed over. “Blood, I have to do something. I can’t let him go back to prison. It’ll destroy him.”

“And this will destroy your career. Think this through, AJ. You ready to sacrifice that much?”

She nodded, on the verge of breaking down. “I have to, Blood. I love him. You have to take me to see him. I need to tell him that.”

Blood drew her into his arms, knowing he had to take her, but also knowing he had to tell Undertaker what she was planning. And there was no way in hell his President was going to let her do this, not when she had so much to lose. “All right, babe. We’ll go see him together. Think we both got some stuff to tell him.”

***

AJ stood a few feet away from where Blood sat talking to Undertaker through the glass window, the telephone receiver to his ear. They talked in hushed whispers through the phone, but she could still make out a little of what was said, especially when their voices were raised. Undertaker looked pissed that she was there. They talked some more, and then something Blood said to him had Undertaker’s eyes flicking over to her, and he looked really pissed off.

“You realize if she does that, it will destroy her career, her charity, everything. But if she doesn’t, you go to prison.” Blood stared at Undertaker through the glass.

“I’m taking the rap. I’ll let them put me in prison before I let her be crucified in the press. She’ll lose everything. Everything. I can’t be responsible for that. No way.”

“Boss—”

“No.”

“Then you tell her.”

Blood stood from the stainless steel stool that was attached to the floor and held the phone receiver out to her.

She looked from him to Undertaker, took the phone and sat. They stared at each other through the security glass. His eyes softened slightly as they moved over her face.

She took him in. He looked tired, and she inanely wondered, of all things, if he was eating. She had a million things she wanted to say and suddenly she was mute.

He was the first to speak.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

The coldness in his voice broke her words free. “Don’t say that. Of course I had to come. I love you.”

It was the first time she’d said the words to him, and it had to be here of all places. Why had she waited to say those three simple words?

He didn’t say it back, and she felt a knife in her heart. Instead he bit out, “I know what you’re planning, and I can’t let you do it. You’ll be sacrificing too much.”

“But I love you.”

This time he couldn’t stop himself from repeating it back, but it sounded torn from his soul. “I love you, too. That’s why I can’t let you do it.”

She got angry, and it made her react, spilling her news in a way she hadn’t planned. “I don’t want our baby to grow up with a father in prison.”

At least it had the effect of shaking him from his emotionless distance. His eyes widened. “What?”

“I’m pregnant.”

He put his head in his hand. “Jesus Christ. It’s happening all over again.”

“Derek…” When he didn’t look up, she banged her palm on the glass. “Look at me, damn it!”

His hand dropped from his face, and his eyes flicked up to her.

Tears were running down her cheeks now, but she didn’t care. “I know what you’re thinking. You think I’m going to leave you, that the baby and I will disappear. That’s not going to happen. I’m… we’re going to be here through all of it, every step of the way. I won’t give up on us, you hear me? And I won’t let you give up on us, either.”

“I lost at this game before, AJ.”

“It’s not a game.”

“No, it’s not. Take a good look, babe. Look where I am. You don’t want this life. You don’t want me.”

“Don’t you dare try to tell me what I want! I lost at my last chance at happiness. I’m not losing this time. I’m not giving up on us, and I’m not letting you give up on us, either, damn it. Now tell me you love me.”

He gave her a small smile, his eyes soft with love. “I love you, Allie.”

She put her hand on the glass, and he placed his palm on the other side. “This is all a big mistake. We’re going to make it to the other side of this, Derek, and I’m going to be here waiting for you, I swear,” her soft voice assured him, trying to will her strength through the glass to him, but he saw the tears trailing down her face.

“Don’t cry, baby. I can take anything but that. I need you strong.”

She wiped the tears away and nodded. “Okay. I’ll be strong. I promise.”

“You believe even when I give you nothing to believe in. Take care of my baby.”

She nodded again. “Always.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

He shook his head. “Not possible.”

The guard came in the door behind him. “Time’s up.”

He stood, the receiver still to his ear for every last second he could stall.

She stood, too, keeping her hand pressed to the glass. “I love you. I’m going to get you out of here. You understand?” she pleaded.

He hung the receiver up, his palm slipping from the glass as his eyes moved over her head to Blood. He lifted his chin toward him, indicating he should get her out of there. Then he winked at her and turned. She watched him move out through the door, her eyes on the words on the back of his orange jumpsuit.

Inmate

St. Tammany Parish Jail

***

The cell door slammed behind Undertaker, and he moved to the bottom bunk of the last of the row of eight metal beds. He sat on the thin mattress, his feet on the floor, elbows on his knees, hands folded, and his head down.

The guy in the next bunk was stretched out on his back. He barely gave Undertaker a glance. Most of the men in here had heard who he was and had steered clear of him. Hell, it only took one guy to notice his club tattoos and the word spread around the big lockup unit.

None of that was on his mind now, though. There was only one thought burning in his brain, one sentence repeating itself over and over in his head like a mantra.

AJ is pregnant.

He rubbed his palms slowly back and forth, staring at the cement floor. It all felt like déjà vu, like he’d been here before. Maybe not this lockup or this parish, but he’d been in this position before—facing a long prison sentence with a woman and child on the outside swearing to wait for him, swearing they loved him.

How the hell had he let this happen again? And he wasn’t thinking about the baby; he knew how that happened. The baby—that he was happy about, scared maybe, but happy. No, what he was so pissed off about was the fact that he’d always swore he’d never go back to prison. Going back to The Farm, back to those damn fields, starting that shit all over again? No way. He couldn’t do it. Since the day he’d walked free, this had been his biggest fear.

He’d known when he was released that he’d held the outcome in his hands. Hell, Allison herself had laid that all out for him the first day he met her at that community center all those years ago.

The majority of inmates paroled end up back in prison, she’d told him. And he’d known she was right. But the die had already been cast, his fate set—and he’d ended up in the President’s chair. Perhaps he’d been backed into a corner, pressured into taking that gavel, but take it he had, and that, in the end, had been his decision. He owned that. And he’d known the club was involved in shit that might eventually land him right back here. He’d been willing to accept the risk, despite his fear.

But things had changed. There was so much more to lose now.

He shook his head at the irony of the timing of this. All these years, all these goddamned years of never finding love again, only to find it now, to finally have everything he wanted, and have it all yanked away.

He wanted to rail at God. He wanted to grab the cell bars in his fists and shake them, to roar out his wrath at the top of his lungs. But he couldn’t. He sat there, rubbing his palms together and silently counting in his head, trying to slow his racing heart and bring his rage under control.

A smile tugged at his mouth as he thought of the woman who had taught him that technique all those years ago. Allison. She was everything to him. And now they were having a child. Her words drifted through his brain as if she were in the cell with him, whispering them in his ear, giving him strength.

I lost my last chance at happiness. I’m not losing this time. I’m not giving up on us, and I’m not letting you give up on us, either, damn it. Now tell me you love me.

“I love you, Allie,” he mouthed the words in a barely audible whisper. “And I’ll love our child.”

She wanted this baby, his baby—a baby she’d been denied the last time around. How could he do anything but fight for her, fight for them, and fight for their child?

He drew in a deep breath. He’d get out of here, and when he did, they’d be waiting for him. He had to believe that. He had to let go of the past and all its loss and be open to this new love, this new future. He had to let love in again and trust in it.

This time would be different.

This time he wasn’t letting love slip through his hands.

This time he wasn’t letting her slip through his hands.

He closed his eyes and murmured the words of a promise he meant with every fiber of his being. “I’m done with loss, and I vow to you, Allie, this time we aren’t going to lose again.”