Banger's Ride: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 5)

by Chiah Wilder

  Chapter Ten

  Jessica Dermot Hoskins sighed loudly as she punched in the prompts from the Lakeview Police Department. She was a few years younger than her stepmother, Belle Dermot, and she resented her from the moment her dad had brought her into the home. How her father could’ve married someone that young was something she would never understand. Belle had tried to be a friend to her, but Jessica couldn’t stand the woman, so she spent as little time in the house as possible. Jessica had been married for ten years, with two young boys who had rarely seen their grandfather. The last thing Jessica wanted to do was bring her kids around Belle. She’d told her father many times if he wanted to see his grandkids he had to make the effort to come to her house or meet them somewhere.

  He did it the first few years, but then the visits became more infrequent, until she rarely saw her father. He called her for her birthday, and of course there was always a standing invitation for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but she never went. Sometimes her father would give her money when she told him that she and her husband, Bert, were in a bad way. He never expected her to pay it back, and she was grateful for that. She had expected to inherit quite a nice sum of money when her father had passed away, and was outraged when there was no money left. She blamed Belle one hundred percent for squandering her father’s money.

  “Lakeview Police Department, how may I help you?” a gruff voice asked.

  “I need to talk to someone in homicide,” Jessica replied.

  “Homicide? Are you in any danger?”

  “No. I want to talk to somebody about a possible homicide. My dad died under mysterious circumstances. I need to talk to a detective.”

  “I’ll patch you through to Detective Sanders.”

  Jessica filed her nails as she waited for the detective to pick up the phone.

  “Detective Sanders, how can I help you?” a deep, raspy voice asked.

  “Hi. My name is Jessica Dermot Hoskins, and my father was Harold Dermot. He died over a year ago, but I found something very unusual in the storage unit that he and my stepmother had.”

  “You say your dad died over a year ago? Was his death ruled natural?”

  “Yes, but what I found in the storage unit made me wonder about his death. I always had a nagging suspicion that things weren’t the way they seemed. My dad was sixty-one years old, and even though he suffered from diabetes, he was still a strong, healthy man. He was fine one day, and the next he died. It never sat well with me or my brother.”

  “Did you tell the police your suspicions at the time of his death?”

  “No. I wanted to, but my brother told me not to. He didn’t want to rock the boat, and when he saw how upset our stepmother was, he told me to leave it alone.”

  “Okay. What was this thing you found in the storage unit?”

  “A syringe, but not the type my dad used for his insulin shots. It’s a different one. I’ve never seen anything like it before, and it was wrapped in plastic and hidden in one of the boxes inside a small purse that I’m sure belongs to my stepmother. I want it to be tested. I was gonna send it to the lab myself, but I thought I should call the police and see if they wanted to look at it.”

  “How do you know your stepmom put it there?”

  “She had to. The only one who has access to the storage unit besides me and my brother is my stepmother. She moved all my dad’s stuff and she didn’t want us to help at all. It was found among the boxes she moved from his house, ones full of books and papers. It’s like she was trying to hide it, you know?”

  “Well, what you’re telling me is anybody could have planted it there, even you. Do you have anything else to go on besides this syringe you found and your own opinion?”

  “No, but I know she was somehow involved in my dad’s death. I don’t believe for one minute that he died of natural causes. And she squandered all his money. She probably killed him thinking he had a large insurance policy. He had one, but he cashed it out without her knowledge.”

  “How much was the policy for?”

  “Two million.”

  “Did your dad have any other insurance policies?”

  “He had one where my brother and I were the beneficiaries. The policy was for one million.”

  “You got that much money when your dad died?

  “No,” she whispered. “He cashed that one out too.”

  Jessica held her breath as she heard the detective’s fingers clacking on the keyboard. She hoped he would look into her father’s death because she knew something wasn’t right. She’d always known.

  “Well, I need to get the syringe from you so we can take a look at it, see what comes up. Of course, I have to run it by my superior. If he says to go for it, I’ll go see your stepmother and ask some questions. But as it stands now, your dad’s death was ruled as natural causes. It will take a hell of a lot more than a syringe to open up a murder investigation on his death. Now, I need to get some particulars from you and more information….”

  Half an hour later, Jessica opened a can of Diet Coke and took a large gulp, the cold stream of liquid soothing her throat. She stared out the kitchen window and saw her two boys playing with the dog in the backyard. She narrowed her eyes, and ice ran through her veins. The bitch would get what she deserved. Jessica had been screwed out of her inheritance, and she wasn’t too happy about it. She had a strong suspicion Belle knew exactly where the money was that everyone said her father had embezzled from the company, and Jessica would pry it out of the bitch. She’d make sure she and her family received the money they were entitled to. Belle Dermot wouldn’t get away with a damn thing, she’d make sure of that.

  * * *

  Detective Sanders scratched his head as he left Chief Garcia’s office. He thought it was a long shot looking into the death of Harold Dermot. After all, his death certificate indicated he’d died from a heart attack. Sighing, he sat down and plugged Belle Dermot’s name into the search engine. A smiling blue-eyed, dark-haired woman popped up, and he took note that she now lived in Pinewood Springs. He’d pay her a visit, just to see if he could read anything between the lines. He wasn’t sure what Jessica’s angle was. Her dislike of her stepmother came over the phone loud and clear and being a seasoned detective, he knew not to believe what people told him.

  He had been to Pinewood Springs several years before, and knew it would be a pleasant drive over there, if it didn’t snow like hell. Printing out Belle’s picture, he placed it in a file he had started and made a note to himself to contact her within the next few weeks.

  He’d meet Jessica over at the storage unit to retrieve this syringe, then he’d make out a lab report and send it off. Detective Sanders wasn’t too sure if anything would come out of this, but his instinct told him something was amiss. He would just have to wait for things to play out. But he was very curious to see what the widow would have to say to him when he paid her a visit.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Are you going out with that guy who bought us drinks on Friday night?” Holly asked as she stirred her coffee.

  “I think so,” Belle said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “We’ve hooked up a couple of times, and he keeps coming in here. He’s asked me out for dinner. I slept with him. Hell, I don’t know what that is. I was married for fifteen years. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Hey, back up. You had sex with him? For you, that’s huge.”

  Belle groaned. “I know, but it felt so right. I wanted to be with him. I’m the one who initiated it. He probably thinks I’m a slut.” She wiped her hands on the pink apron around her waist. “But the man knows how to please a woman. Hot damn.” Giggling, she covered her mouth with her hands as wisps of red streaked her face.

  “That good?” Holly asked, her eyebrow raised.

  Belle bobbed her head up and down, curly tendrils of hair bouncing around her face.

  “When you’re finished with him, I’ll have to try him out.”

  Belle’
s stomach twisted as she recalled how her friend had blatantly flirted with Banger at the burger restaurant. “Aren’t things going well with Darren?”

  “Things are fine with us, but he works long hours, and he can’t satisfy my needs all the time. Having something on the side would be perfect.”

  “Are you serious? Darren adores you. You can’t do that to him. Talk to him about what’s bothering you. Anyway, Banger is off-limits.” Belle gave her friend a hard stare.

  Holly busted out laughing. “Damn, you can be so provincial sometimes. I was only joking, although I have to admit your guy looks real good. Holy shit. Is there anything on him but hard muscle?”

  “Sometimes, you’re too crazy. And the man is pure muscle. So sexy….”

  “He looks like a biker.”

  “He is. He rides a Harley and he’s president of the Insurgents MC.”

  Holly paled. “He’s the president of the club? Fuck, his club and my brother’s are rivals. We definitely don’t want the two of them bumping into each other. Make sure you don’t tell either one that you know the other.”

  “That seems silly.”

  “That’s the way it works with one-percenters. My brother is a Deadly Demon, and the Demons and Insurgents were at war for years.”

  “War?”

  “Yeah, just like in Iraq and shit. Like bombing each other’s clubhouses and torturing and killing each other. It was a war between them for a long time.”

  A knot formed in the pit of her stomach as Holly spoke. She couldn’t believe what her friend was telling her. The man she knew couldn’t be capable of such things, could he? He seemed easygoing and cheerful. She’d seen hardness in his eyes, but she just figured he didn’t like being pushed around, and since he was president, he was used to being in control and having people listen to him.

  “Belle, are you listening to me?” Holly’s stern voice pulled Belle out of her thoughts.

  “Yes. I was just thinking about what you’re saying. Are they still in a war?” It sounded so alien for her to ask the question. People didn’t really live like that, did they?

  “No, they called a truce and it’s been relatively calm. The Insurgents control Colorado and the Deadly Demons have New Mexico. The Insurgents lucked out when Colorado legalized marijuana. They’re making a shitload of money, and it’s all done legally. My brother is always broke, and the Demons are always on the lookout to make more money.”

  “How does your brother’s club make money?”

  Holly shrugged. “It’s club business, so no one’s talking.”

  “I can relate to not having enough money. It’s been such a struggle since Harold died.”

  “It sucks that he squandered everything.”

  “I couldn’t believe it. He always told me that the kids and I would be taken care of. He cashed out his life insurance policy six months before he died. All I was left with were mountains of bills, but you know all that, I don’t want to rehash it. I just can’t believe how he changed in the months before his death. His company was his life, and to embezzle from it and run it into the ground was so not like Harold. I guess the woman he’d fallen for cast some kind of spell over him. Some men just do not handle aging very well.”

  “He was a dirtbag. You deserved better. Leaving you penniless was wrong.”

  “I hold onto the thought that he would have straightened it all out if he hadn’t died. You know, he didn’t think he was going to die.” Belle broke up the napkin she had in her hands into tiny pieces. “I didn’t think he was going to die either. I know that sounds stupid, because he wasn’t in the best health, but I pictured him living another twenty years. When I found out he’d cheated on me, I was devastated.” Her breath hitched and her eyes glistened.

  Holly patted her friend’s hand. “Don’t go there. It’s been over a year and a half. You gave him everything, and he did that shit to you? The bastard got what he deserved. He spared you the humiliation of being a cliché—older wife gets left for a younger model. You need to forget him.”

  “When I found out about Harold screwing around behind my back with his secretary, I felt like someone had hit me in the head with an axe. Everything I believed to be true was suddenly called into question.” Belle leaned back and stared out at the sun’s rays bouncing off the pristine snow. “I always thought we had a good marriage. We didn’t have sex very much, especially the year before he died, but I figured he just wasn’t in the best health and worked too much. He had a lot on his mind. Little did I know he was getting it from some home-wrecking bitch.”

  “I’m telling you that he didn’t deserve you. You have to put this behind you.”

  “I do, most of the time, but this thing with Banger has stirred up all kinds of insecurities. I mean, I’ve survived, but I’m very guarded. I guess I’m jaded. I think men are jerks looking to have a good time until they get bored, then they’ll go on to the next woman. I no longer believe that love is forever, and I realize that things may not work out, no matter how good they seem to be.”

  “Men can fucking suck. That’s why you gotta live for the moment. If you see a hot guy and want to screw, go for it. I mean, Darren and I love each other, but sometimes it’s not enough. All that Cinderella shit we had forced down our throats growing up just made us open to a bunch of hurt when we hooked up with men. Look at you. You thought Harold was your Prince Charming, and he screwed you big time. Rose-colored glasses are fucked.”

  Belle giggled. “You’re even more jaded than I am. Harold was never my Prince Charming, but I thought we had mutual love and respect for each other. Hell, we raised two kids together and shared the same bed for fifteen years. You’d think loyalty would’ve come into play at some point, or communication.” She sighed and looked at the wall clock. “It doesn’t fucking make any difference now. I better get back to work. My break was over like ten minutes ago.”

  Belle slid out of the booth and smoothed down her uniform then retied her pink apron with lime green polka dots. The apron always made her smile because it reminded her of a slice of watermelon on a lazy, summer afternoon. Whenever it was freezing out, she’d take out her “summer” apron and wear it, and it would lift her mood immediately. Belle collected aprons—five trunks full of them attested to her obsession.

  As she walked away from the table, Holly asked, “So, you going out with the sexy president again?”

  Banger’s smiling blue eyes with the fine lines around them flashed in her mind. “Probably. Talk to you later.” She walked back to the kitchen to start making the dinner specials: tamale pie and chicken breast casserole with stuffing.

  As she worked, she grappled with the idea of Banger; she liked him a lot, maybe too much. What she loved was that, when they were together, she wasn’t a mom or a widow. She was Belle, a woman who was having a good time during a small slice of her hectic life. All the crap with Emily made her so anxious and sad because, above everything else, she wanted the best for her and Ethan, but her daughter didn’t believe it. She didn’t know how to reach Emily; it was as though the two of them were in a vacuum being sucked away from each other in opposite directions. How she wanted her little girl back, the one who’d hug her, who wanted to spend time with her. How had things gone so bad between them?

  Since Banger had slipped into her life, he was the only thing that made all the stress tolerable. She shook her head. Crazy.

  When the clock struck six, Belle hurriedly gathered her purse and coat. She took her phone out of her purse and glanced at it to see if she’d received any calls she hadn’t heard. Nothing. More specifically, there weren’t any calls from Banger. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d called her and tried to coax her to go out with him after work. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to—she simply couldn’t. She’d promised Ethan and Emily they would spend time together and watch a movie. He’d seemed pissed when he hung up the phone, but he didn’t understand how hard it was with the kids. She couldn’t just leave them and go off with him like they didn’t
exist.

  She put on her gloves and trudged to her car, the snow crunching under her feet. Maybe he would call. If he didn’t, she’d text him the following day. She slid in the driver’s seat and drove slowly home. When she pulled into the driveway, she noticed her daughter’s bedroom was dark. Belle’s chest tightened and her pulse raced as she walked through the back door into the kitchen. She saw the flickering lights in the living room, and knew Ethan was sitting transfixed in front of the TV, playing his video games.

  “Is your sister home?” Belle called out.

  “Nah,” her son replied.

  She took out her cell phone and dialed her daughter’s number. No answer. She sent a text asking Emily to let her know that she was okay and what time she’d be home. Nothing. Rubbing the back of her neck, an empty feeling formed in the pit of Belle’s stomach. Forcing herself not to jump to conclusions, she opened the refrigerator and took out some eggs, ham, and potatoes for dinner.

  As Ethan relayed the events of his day, Belle pretended to listen, but her thoughts were scattered as she wondered where Emily was. Irrational fears shimmied up her nerves, and by the time dinner was over, she was a basket case.

  “Do you want to watch me play, Mom?” Ethan asked.

  “Sure, in a minute. Why don’t you set things up and I’ll just finish clearing?”

  She attempted four more times to contact Emily by phone and by text, but silence was all that greeted her. As much as she tried not to, she was freaking out. What if Emily were hurt? What if something bad happened to her?

  She called Holly and told her she hadn’t heard from Emily and she was scared something had happened to her.

  “You need to chill. Emily’s done this before, you know that. Wait a few more hours, and if she doesn’t come home then call me back.”