Jen

“Look, here’s what I heard. It’s going to be tonight at nine at the warehouse next to the pier. Pier three.”

“Right. And you know this because?”

I had done some soul searching after leaving Benz’s apartment. I had come here to put The Dark Saints away, and I had a perfect opportunity.

Not because I had done any great police work, but because I was in Benz’s bed at the right time. My face still flushed hot to think about it. And I started to tell myself that sleeping with him was part of the plan. I could tell myself I was like James Bond or something. It was all about getting information.

I rationalized it. I had been caught up in the moment. But why not? Why not enjoy what Benz had to offer? Most women would? Wouldn’t they? He was a Greek God on a bike. He was a leather clad Adonis and he was very fucking good at fucking.

I was a novice on every level, and I had got swept away. But it didn’t mean anything.

I had no doubt that I was just one of the many women who he’d slept with and there was no reason to think I was special or that what we did was.

All these rationales put me in the Port Azrael Police Department with the information that I’d learned.

Sure, I could go to the warehouse by myself with no backup and hope for the best. But if I’d learned one thing in the last twenty-four hours, it was that I didn’t know anything.

Being in the academy and having my degree didn’t mean I was any good at being undercover. I’d been surprised by every aspect, and at every turn, since I’d arrived in Port Azrael. The cake topper being the fact that I’d slept with the son of Kenny Bass. That part was the worst. That part made me so angry with myself that I could barely stand it.

The only way I could see to make this right was to report the information I had. I aimed to give the local police a good heads up about what was going to go down.

The problem was I was nobody. I was bounced from a desk clerk to a detective and back down again to a rookie, who looked nervous and who was essentially ignoring me, waiting for his boss. I told the same story three times.

“I was with Benz Bass last night, he got a call. On the call, it was clear he is the lookout for a major shipment of New Jack. I told you the location. What more do you need?”

He didn’t answer. He was as new as I was.

“Let me just Google, New Jack Swing real quick,” he said.

“Detective Peck– ” I pleaded.

“I’m technically not a detective. Officer Peck would be fine. Or even Peter.”

“You’re seriously telling me your name is Officer Peter Peck?”

“Yes Miss, that’s right. And I haven’t made detective yet. But fingers crossed.”

“They must have a field day with that name around here. How long have you… Ugh. Never mind. I have given you a solid lead on a major situation and I’ve been shunted from paper pusher to paper pusher.” I was frustrated, to say the least.

Officer Peck was a little soft, and a lot young, and the last bust he had made was probably a pimple on his forehead, not a drug deal.

“I have a line into my boss. He’ll be on it. Don’t you worry.” Officer Peck straightened a few post-it notes and avoided eye contact with me. Like everything else in Port Azrael, the police visit was going weird.

I waited and waited and finally the detective Peck had called arrived.

“Peck, you’re done. Go get the coffee filters I told you we needed.”

“Yes, sir.” Peck stood up and knocked over the can of pencils he spent most of his days pushing. He scrambled to put them back in the can.

“Move it, Peck.” As the young officer scrambled out of the reception, the detective turned to me and said, “I’m Detective Art Janning, Miss Guffy.”

“Finally, I’ve been getting the runaround all day!”

“We’re pretty busy here, Miss Guffy. So sorry we couldn't offer you a latte and a bagel while you waited.”

It was not going well with the detective and we hadn’t even started.

“We looked over your information. Good stuff,” he commented, giving me a patronizing nod.

It was bullshit, I knew. He thought I was playing cop. Maybe I was, but I dammit there was going to be a drug deal in this town and The Dark Saints were the center of it. Didn’t I have a duty to tell the authorities?

“You should not dismiss me or this. I’m not some random person off the street, I have a criminal justice degree, I graduated top of my class at– ”

“I see, and you have a long history with the Rangers, yes. I remember when your Daddy died. It was a terrible thing. Terrible. He was a hero. That’s a fact. I’m so sorry for your loss.” Janning appeared to be genuine, at least about that. Any person in law enforcement in the area would have remembered when my Daddy died. That much I knew.

“Thank you.”

“We’ve got the information, we’ll follow up. If I were you, I’d go back to the library and finish up there. That’s important work too. I’m glad to hear it’s finally being done.”

Janning thought I was a silly girl who had a little too much to drink, had a fun night with an outlaw and was now letting her imagination run wild.

“Okay, so you’ll be there?”

“I can’t divulge specifics of police operations, but we appreciate your service. Peck! PECK! Officer Peck will show you out.”

I was getting the brush off. All my angst over getting close to The Dark Saints and nothing was going to happen.

Peck ran back into the reception area when he heard Detective Janning’s bark.

“So, you believe me right?” I said to him. Peck had been the only one who seemed to be listening to me the entire time I’d been at the station. Even though he had to Google half the things I’d referenced.

“I do. And I’ve got an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to take this case upon myself.”

“You’re going to?”

“They’ve been putting me to the side, giving me paperwork, having me do the low-level jobs. I need a big win.”

I related to that part of Peter Peck’s life, one hundred percent.

“Well, this could be it.”

“Hell yeah.”

“You could get in trouble for going off like this? You know that right?”

“Not if I make the collar? Then I’m the rookie who foiled a big deal going down in Port Az!”

“Right. Thank you. I’m just trying to do the right thing.”

I had an ally in Port Az, finally.

“You did. Sometimes they turn a blind eye to stuff The Dark Saints do here. That stops with me.” Peck nodded at me, gaining in confidence as he spoke.

It was something. I knew there was no way that Detective Janning was going to do anything. Maybe Peck and I could make this bust together.

I’d spoon fed information to the police. I knew the law at least. This really could net a few of The Dark Saints. It had to. Or everything I had done was a waste. I didn’t deserve to follow in my Daddy’s footsteps if I couldn’t handle a bust where I knew everything, or most things, ahead of time.

I went back to the library and essentially hid in my corner for the rest of the day. My phone had a missed call from Benz. I ignored it. I was too afraid I’d mess up and give myself away somehow.

Benz Bass. I pulled up the name Bass on my computer. The details of the bank robbery and my Daddy’s death were there again.

Benz said his Daddy wasn’t officially a Dark Saint.

I wondered about that. All this time my Grandmother had told me that all three of the men involved were Dark Saints.

And yet Benz said his Dad wasn’t.

Grandmother said The Saints got off scot-free after the bank robbery. The money they took was recovered, that much was true. But I wondered about the safety deposit box that was never recovered. Did that have cash in it? Did it make it to The Saints? Is that how they’d been thriving over the years?

In the ten years since that day, Port Azrael had changed for the better. The town was growing and so was the MC.

I pulled up arrest records from the last ten years in the Port Az Police Department. I should have done more of this over the last few weeks, actual research on The Saints. Then I wouldn’t have been so blindsided by Benz.

I didn’t see the name Bass in the recent arrests. I also did a docket search of the municipal court. Again, no Bass anywhere.

Whatever Benz had been up to since that day both our Dads had died, he hadn’t got caught.

I looked for other names in the arrest logs. Most of the men in The Saints went by aliases or ‘club names’ and I only knew a few of those. It made for tough going in terms of finding out how clean or dirty they were.

I did know Benz’s real name now, Benjamin Bass.

Benz had a clean record, at least as an adult. No way to know if he had priors as a juvie. But I’d categorized all The Saints as criminals. It looked like the only criminals I could actually track were the ones who’d called themselves Saints when they robbed Port Az State Credit Union.

Were they posers? Were they just trying to get into The Saints? Or take The Saints down?

It was too late to be able to ask them, since the two that were apprehended had died in prison. No question, that was suspicious, but it still meant I couldn’t ask them a damn thing. Whatever secrets they had died with them.

I don’t know if it was love or guilt, but I started to worry.

What if I was wrong about Benz? Officer Peck was going to try to make a name for himself. Just like I was trying to do by busting Benz and whoever else showed up tonight.

I had no real idea about what I could or would do.

But as the sun set, I realized I was going to go that warehouse next to the dock. I was going to hang back and see what I saw. Benz Bass and the entire Dark Saints were shady. I knew they were.

Who cared whether the three that were involved in the bank robbery were ‘official’ or not. What the hell did that even mean?

The Dark Saints were running something through this town. They were getting rich off of it and they weren’t paying. My Daddy had paid the ultimate price.

I dropped the librarian costume. It was time to be a cop, sort of. I was going to be back up for Officer Peter Peck whether he liked it or not. He sure as hell needed it. That much was clear.

I was going to be sure Peck arrested The Saints at the docks for smuggling drugs into this town. It was sickening really. Drug smuggling. Benz Bass was a drug smuggler, the lowest form of life. The heroin epidemic was out of control and he was helping to fan the flames.

I bolstered my lifelong hatred of The Saints with every passing moment.

I was going to finish what I had started.

Benz was an expert at women. That had to be true too. I was turned inside out just by being in the same room with him. I obviously couldn’t think straight anywhere near the guy.

That was my rookie mistake. Falling for a ruggedly handsome outlaw. My body shuddered again thinking about how I’d felt with him.

That was the cost of doing business, I guess. If you really want to go under cover.

The deal was supposed to go down at nine. I needed to hurry. I was going to be there too, and I was going to take down the son of Kenny Bass.