“What’s a private investigator doing sleeping with the head of the Midnight Riders motorcycle club?” the man’s voice asked.
Stall.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.
“Which part – the sleeping with, or the private investigator part?”
Something was weird about the question.
Actually, a couple of things were weird about the question.
It took me a second to figure out what they were.
“You’re such a gentleman,” I said with light sarcasm. “‘Sleeping with’ is so much nicer than ‘fucking.’”
“Answer the question.”
If this guy had been one of Lou’s flunkies, he would have said ‘fucking,’ not ‘sleeping with.’ And probably called me a slut or a whore to boot.
And he wouldn’t call it the ‘Midnight Riders motorcycle club.’
He would have said ‘Midnight Riders MC’ or simply ‘Midnight Riders.’
Or just ‘fucking Jack.’
My intruder was distancing himself…
He wasn’t one of the brothers.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I’ll ask the questions. What’s a private investigator doing in Richards, California?”
“I’m not a private investigator.”
“Yes you are. Well, technically I guess you’re telling the truth, since you’re not licensed in the state of California, or anywhere else for that matter. But you worked three years for Sid Abrams of Abrams Private Investigations while you did acting work on the side. Stopped short of getting your own license.”
Holy shit.
This guy knew everything about me.
But how?!
“Why are you here in Richards?” he asked.
“Why don’t you tell me, since you’re so good at making up fiction,” I said coolly.
“Not fiction. Non-fiction.”
“You do sound like you’re researching somebody’s biography. It’s just not mine.”
“I wasn’t thinking ‘biography.’ I was thinking… true crime. Like that book by Truman Capote. In Cold Blood.”
My stomach turned.
I knew what he was talking about from seeing the movie Capote, the one where Philip Seymour Hoffman won the Oscar.
It was about two ex-cons back in the 50’s who brutally murdered a family of four during a home invasion. Slit the throat of the father then shot him in the head, then took a shotgun to his wife and two children.
Oh shit.
14
Jack
I walked up and got right in Lou’s face. “GET ROACH ON THE PHONE RIGHT NOW AND CALL HIM THE FUCK OFF.”
Jack stared at me, hatred burning deep in his eyes. I knew he wanted to go for it, to hit me, to take me out right now – and I was chomping at the bit for him to try. I would fucking murder that son of a bitch right here, right now, even with the entire Richards Police Department in the other room –
Suddenly the anger was gone, and Lou shook his head in disgust. “You’re a fucking basketcase,” he said as he backed up and pulled out his cell.
“Fuck you. Call him.”
“Over some whore you met – what – three days ago?”
I wanted to break his fucking face for calling her that, but that would just slow down the process.
“CALL HIM.”
“Jesus Christ, I’m callin’, I’m callin’,” he snarled.
He dialed and put the cell to his ear.
“No promises he’ll answer, though,” Lou joked darkly. “He might’ve already started.”
“If that’s the case, then the cops can process a second murder scene after I’m through with you.”
Jack glared at me as we both waited in silence for Roach to answer.
15
Fiona
I was wondering if he was going to shoot me or slit my throat.
And then he said something that completely upended everything.
“Would your presence here have anything to do with Alison Levitt? She was murdered here in Richards a year ago. But you know that. She was your cousin, wasn’t she.”
He hadn’t brought up In Cold Blood because he was planning to kill me.
He’d brought it up because Truman Capote had investigated the murders to write about them.
Just like I was doing here in Richards.
He knows.
HE KNOWS WHY I’M HERE.
I couldn’t speak.
I was almost on the verge of a panic attack.
“Cat got your tongue?” my interrogator asked mockingly.
I forced myself to calm down.
He knew about Sid. He knew about being a P.I. Of course he was going to know about Alison.
As soon as I said it in my mind – as soon as I listed the things he knew – I started to realize he knew a lot of things about me.
A lot of things there was no way he should be able to know.
I wasn’t listed on the website as one of Sid’s employees, and I never even met with clients unless they demanded it.
So how did he know who employed me?
He could have combed through court records. I’d had to testify on several occasions. But that would have been like looking for a dozen needles in thousands of haystacks.
He could have gotten info on my employer through my friends back in LA – but then he’d have to know who my friends were, which was a whole different set of problems in itself. That would imply a stakeout going back months and months.
The bank, maybe? I got my paychecks direct deposit from Sid. Did this guy hack my records?
Maybe, but that seemed extreme. Too much like a spy movie. People who hack banks do it to steal money, not information.
The only other way I knew was my tax return. Or bugging my fuckin’ phone.
Wait a minute…
Tax return.
IRS.
Bugging my phone…
NSA.
Knowing I wasn’t licensed anywhere in the US as a private investigator…
Department of Homeland Security.
“Are you with the government?” I asked incredulously.
There was a telling pause. Not long – only a second – but it was enough.
“I said I was going to ask the questions here.”
“You’re with the fucking federal government,” I said, utterly and completely shocked.
What the fuck?
Why the hell was a government agent investigating me?
Except he wasn’t.
It was suddenly as clear as day.
“You’re here for the Midnight Riders, and I just stumbled into your path,” I realized.
There was a sigh, and then the room light snapped on.
In the corner stood Eddie.
Eddie, one of the Midnight Riders.
Eddie, the guy with the mustache who had barked out orders for shots on my first night at the Seven Veils.
Eddie, who had followed Lou’s orders and called the other club members to get them to not kill the Santa Muerte till he got there.
I’d seen him around enough to recognize his voice, but he wasn’t a big enough player in the club to be truly memorable.
“Special Undercover Agent Edward Deacon, DEA,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.”
16
Jack
“Whut’s up, Lou?”
I could hear Roach’s redneck drawl over the cell phone, even though it was pressed up to Lou’s ear.
“Put him on speakerphone,” I ordered.
Lou glared at me, but complied. “I’m here with Jack,” he said, probably to warn Roach not to say too much.
“Oh… hey, Jack…”
Roach had the embarrassed air of a teenage kid caught whacking off to his mom’s Victoria’s Secret catalogue.
“Whatever Lou told you to do, STOP IT,” I snarled.
“Uhhhh…”
Apparently he’d been told to not say anything about it. Lou stepped in and
broke the logjam.
“You started in on Fiona yet?” he asked.
“Naw, I ain’t even in her room yet.”
Relief flooded through me like the sweetest wine you ever tasted.
“GOOD. Now get the fuck out of there,” I ordered.
“But – ”
“Did you not fuckin’ hear me?” I asked, using the voice I reserved for guys who were about to get their heads bashed in with a tire iron.
“Um… yeah…”
“Come on back, Roach,” Lou said in a tired voice.
“But… I think there’s somebody else in her room.”
17
Fiona
“You’re with the Drug Enforcement Agency?” I asked, still too shocked to really believe it.
“Drug Enforcement Administration,” he corrected me as he let his gun hand drop to his side.
He didn’t put it away, though, I noticed.
I narrowed my eyes. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“What, would you prefer I be an enforcer for the Midnight Riders?”
“I want to see your badge.”
He smirked. “Undercover agents don’t carry badges, Ms. Christenson.”
Duh.
Okay, that really was dumb of me.
Blame the terror when he grabbed me in the dark… followed by my utter shock to find out who he was… not to mention I had gone almost 24 hours without sleep.
But his tone of voice really pissed me off.
“Do they regularly threaten to kill people, too?” I snapped.
“Only when they need to play the part of a motorcycle gang member.”
“I didn’t know who you were. Not in the dark.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t know that. There was a chance you could have recognized my voice.”
“You know about Ali.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what happened to her?” I asked.
“I know she was shot in a back alley here in Richards.”
“That’s not what I meant. You’ve obviously been undercover with the Midnight Riders for a while. Do you know what happened to her?”
He stared into my eyes. Took a second to answer. “Not through the club, no.”
“What do you mean, not through the club?”
“I have no idea who killed your cousin.”
“But what did you mean, ‘not through the club’?”
He took an even longer time to answer.
When he did, he blew my fragile little world apart.
“Your cousin was working with us when she died.”
18
Jack
My stomach felt like it had fallen out of my body and onto the floor.
“You ‘think’?” Lou asked, leaning over the phone, intent and scowling.
“Got here a few minutes ago. Lights were off, so I went up to the door – and then I heard a dude talkin’. So I backed the hell off. Thought it might be Jack… ‘cept it wasn’t, cuz… well, I’m on the phone with you, Jack.”
“A veritable Sherlock fuckin’ Holmes,” Lou muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing. You were saying?”
“Well, anyways… just a second ‘fore you called, the lights went on.”
Lou looked at me with a vicious smirk. “Well, well, well. I don’t know which would be worse: her meeting with a fellow agent in the FBI… or fuckin’ some other guy behind your back, just minutes after she left you.”
I wanted to kill Lou.
But it looked like he might be right.
“FBI?” Roach asked in alarm.
“Bad joke, Roach,” Lou said. “Do you know who’s in there with her?”
“Naw, but they been in there a good while.”
“Are you sure someone else is in there with her?” I asked, feeling absolutely sick.
“Well, I heard a dude, anyway.”
“What did they say?”
“I don’t know. They was talkin’ too low for me to hear anything. Actually, it was just the dude talkin’, now I think about it.”
“Why the fuck did you walk away?” Lou asked, irate.
“You didn’t say nothin’ about there bein’ a dude in there with her. Plus I thought it was Jack, maybe, and – ”
“Never mind,” Lou cut him off.
I wondered angrily exactly what kind of instructions Lou had given Roach.
Like, Jack can never know about this. Not till it’s over with, anyway.
“Can you see who it is?” Lou continued.
“Naw, they got the curtains pulled.”
“Can you hear anything now?”
“Naw, too far away.”
“How far out are you?”
“‘Bout fifty feet. I’m out at the shrubs ‘cross the way.”
“Well go back up to the fuckin’ door, dumbass, and be quiet about it.”
My mind was racing. Cold sweat was dripping down the small of my back.
“No,” I said. “Get out of there, Roach.”
“Get your fuckin’ ass outside that door, Roach,” Lou said in a louder voice.
I glared at Lou.
“Uhhhh… soooo… which one you want me to do? Get the fuck out, or get my fuckin’ ass back to the door?”
“She’s with someone, Jack,” Lou said. “Roach can’t leave until he finds out who.”
“He’s not going in there.”
“Think with your goddamn brain instead of your cock, you stupid sonuvabitch. She’s either a fuckin’ mole, or she’s cheating on you. Take your pick. Either way, she’s a lying bitch who’s not worth having this fuckin’ argument over.”
My guts twisted. I tried to tell myself that she’d never made any promises to me, that she could fuck whoever she wanted –
But ten minutes after I dropped her off?
And even then, I knew that wasn’t the truth.
I knew in the pit of my stomach that she wasn’t fucking some other guy.
It had to be the other option.
She had to be the mole.
“Roach isn’t leaving until he knows who the fuck’s in there, Jack,” Lou said.
This time, I couldn’t find it in myself to say ‘no.’
19
Fiona
“What?! Who, the DEA?!” I sputtered.
“Yes. She was an informant for us. She was helping us build a case against the Midnight Riders leadership on drug trafficking charges.”
My head was spinning.
Ali? An informant? For the DEA?!
No… impossible.
A memory bubbled up from the past.
Ali and I were in high school, standing by the lockers in the hallway when a boy walked by. He was dressed like a punk rocker.
Hey, Brian, turn in any of your friends today? Ali spat as he walked past. Don’t worry, it’s early – you still got time.
Fuck you, bitch, he said, but the look he gave her was just as guilty as it was angry, and he scurried away.
Go fuck yourself, you fucking narc! she yelled after him.
What are you talking about? I asked Ali.
He’s a fucking snitch, she seethed. He got busted for pot, so he ratted out Lee so they’d let him cop a plea deal.
Lee was the party guy at the school. A rich kid who liked to slum it. He basically sold dime bags of weed and eightballs of coke, maybe a little LSD and shrooms.
Lee’s a drug dealer, Ali, I pointed out.
She turned on me with fury and hurt. He’s my FRIEND, Fiona.
She only called me ‘Fiona’ when she was pissed at me. Normally it was ‘Nana.’
I refrained from pointing out that Lee had a lot of ‘friends,’ but she saw it in my eyes anyway.
If you’re going to judge him, then you better judge me, too.
You don’t SELL drugs, Ali, I whispered, looking around to make sure there weren’t any teachers to hear.
No, but I BUY them. I USE them. Does that make me a shitty person?<
br />
I sighed. No. I love you. You know that. But I wish you wouldn’t do them.
Yeah, I know. But Lee’s my friend, Nana. He doesn’t deserve to do 20 years in jail for selling a little pot here and there.
He got 20 years? I asked, horrified. She was right; Lee was just a goofball partying with his friends. Now his life was over.
And that fucking asshole just walked away scot-free, she fumed as she watched Brian recede in the distance. I’d love to see HIM go to prison. HE’S the one who deserves it… COWARD! she screamed. TRAITOR!
Coward.
Traitor.
Snitch.
Narc.
Ali would never have been any of those.
Not unless the stakes were so high that she was willing to forget who she was.
Not unless they’d broken her first.
“She would have never worked with you people,” I snapped.
“Well, she did.”
“Not willingly.”
“She worked with us of her own free choice,” Eddie said.
“That’s not the same thing as willingly.”
He shrugged. “All the same, she chose to.”
“She hated narcs.”
“She was an informant, not a narc.”
“Same thing.”
“Maybe she had a change of heart. Maybe she saw that the people she was tangled up with were really dangerous, and she was afraid.”
“She was a drug addict. She would have hated and been afraid of you.” Suddenly I made the obvious connection that hadn’t been there because I’d been so blinded by shock. “Wait – was she gunned down in the alleyway that night because of YOU?!”
“No.”
I stood up from the bed. “Did you put her there?! Was she doing something for you? Did she die because of you?!”
“Absolutely not,” he said forcefully. “I don’t know why she went there that night, but she didn’t tell me about it beforehand. I would have never put her in a situation where she was in danger like that.”
Midnight Deceit: A Midnight Riders Motorcycle Club Romance Part 3 Page 3
