by Lane Hart
“Are we gonna bring this to the table?” I ask Torin when I end the phone call, wanting to know if he’s gonna try and keep this shit from his brothers.
“Not tonight,” he says.
“Tomorrow?” I ask, because I don’t like keeping secrets from our boys, especially if there could be heat coming down on the whole MC with the police investigating. Our stepsister Jade just moved back to town and took over the sheriff’s department, so she can keep our asses out of trouble here in Carteret County, but that doesn’t mean every other cop in the surrounding counties won’t be watching us like hawks.
“Tomorrow,” Torin reluctantly agrees. “I’ll talk to Jade and ask her to see what she can find out.”
“Good,” I agree as I get to my feet. Realizing Torin still hasn’t told me what the hell he’s gotten himself into, I ask, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. Don’t worry, and don’t you dare get Kennedy riled up about this fucking mess. She doesn’t need any stress on her right now with the baby coming any day.”
“Yeah, got it,” I agree, even though now I’m certain my brother is into some bad shit. He talks to Kennedy about every fucking thing, so the fact that he doesn’t want me to say anything to her means he’s intentionally keeping her in the dark.
That’s a really bad fucking sign.
Chapter Five
Sasha
“Hi, this is Sasha Sheridan calling from WBRL News with a few quick questions for the sheriff,” I say into my cell phone while I wait in a plastic chair at the terminal for my flight.
“Just a moment,” the woman replies before putting me on hold.
Finally, after all this time, I’m going to D.C. to interview for an international correspondent position. I’m running out of time and not getting any younger, so it’s now or never on applying to a job that lets me travel the world instead of keeping me in the small coastal county that’s boring ten out of twelve months a year. The most exciting two months are right now during the summer when there are enough tourists around to spark headlines with shark attacks and other horrible water accidents.
“Jade speaking,” a woman’s authoritative voice comes over the line.
“Hi, Jade. I’m Sasha Sher– ”
“You’re a reporter. I know. What’s up?” she asks, making me smile when she cuts to the chase. Speaking of, I know she’s Chase’s stepsister and she probably doesn’t remember me, but we all went to high school together. I think she was one year younger than us.
“I just had a few questions for you. Off the record,” I reply.
“Shoot.”
“Are you aware that the Savage Kings are dealing meth?” I come right out and ask. After staying up late last night researching the names of the three victims of the fatal wreck, I saw one fairly common denominator – methamphetamine convictions. Throw that in with the fact that there have been three overdoses on the stuff in the last week up in Carteret County where the original Savage Kings charter is located, and well, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the Kings could be involved in the drug business. Again, I don’t want to believe that’s true, but I need to know. Their stepsister, the sheriff, seemed like a good place to start.
“Wow,” Jade says after a fairly long pause. “You don’t pull any punches, do you, Sasha? Were you this feisty when you were dating my stepbrother?”
Now it’s my turn to go speechless. “You, ah, remember that?” I ask.
“You were Chase’s high school sweetheart. How could I forget? Especially when he has your name plastered across his chest.”
“He still has that tattoo?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Does he have a beard now too?”
“Yes, as far as I know, and yes, unless he shaved it off in the last few days,” Jade tells me, making my chest tighten knowing it was him. It had to be. “So are you calling to check up on Chase or what?”
“I think he was the shooter involved in the wreck on highway seventeen yesterday,” I tell her in a rush, my voice shaking as I say the words aloud for the first time. “The witness gave a description matching him and saw the MC’s logo.”
“Holy shit,” Jade mutters. Then, “The witness could’ve been mistaken. The Savage Kings have a rather distinguishing patch. Maybe she’s just seen it before and thought that’s what she saw yesterday. Eye-witnesses are notoriously wrong about what they think they see after the fact.”
“I know, that does happen. But the three victims, Keith Washington, Derek Sutton, and Malcolm Butner are all known meth dealers. Do you think it’s a coincidence that they’re attacked the same week as three overdoses killed people in Emerald Isle?”
“I-I didn’t know that,” Jade says, sounding surprised.
“Look, I’m not trying to make the Kings out to be something they’re not. Believe me, I would prefer to live in my naïve little world and not know if the man I used to love is now a drug dealer and murderer, but I also need answers about this.”
“For a story, or for yourself?” Jade asks.
“Both.”
“Look, you know I’m not aware of what my stepbrothers do in the MC, and I never will be. But I really don’t think they’re bad guys. Torin is incredibly strict with the members. He keeps them in line –”
“Torin met with Hector Cruz this morning,” I blurt out, saving the best newsflash for last. “So maybe you don’t want to see what’s going on, but why else would the president of the MC be meeting with a known meth kingpin unless they were in business together?” I ask.
“There’s no way…” Jade starts. “Torin was probably telling him to stay away…”
“I have photos of them having a very casual talk together. If you give me your cell number, I’ll send you copies.”
Jade’s silent a second before she calls out the seven digits. I scramble to find my pen and tiny notepad from my purse so I can jot them down before I forget.
“Got it. I’ll send the photos over soon.”
“Thanks,” Jade replies. “And you know I’m gonna have to go to Torin and Chase about this, right?”
“Yeah. I hope you do and that you’re able to get explanations that are better than the ones I’m putting together,” I tell her honestly even if I’m a little nervous about her talking to Chase about me. “I’m on my way out of town, but I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon if you find out anything.”
“Okay. I can’t make any promises that I’ll be able to share with you, though.”
“Understood,” I say. “Thanks, Jade.”
Ending the call, I pull up my camera roll and then forward the photos I took outside of Hector’s pool hall. Once I compiled the three victim’s records and realized they were into the meth game, Hector’s was my first stop on the way to the airport this morning. Honestly, I didn’t expect to even see him there, much less Chase’s brother Torin, because the place was closed. But as soon as I spotted them together in the parking lot, I knew I was on to something big.
The locals up and down the coast love the Savage Kings for all that they’ve done turning the economy around for Carteret County and bringing more tourists through the state. They’ve provided a ton of jobs with their new businesses. The other charters are known to keep the violence and drugs out of their towns too. The public deserves to know if their beloved Kings are actually poisoning the area with drugs.
And I plan to find out exactly what they’re up to. If that means getting closer to the man who broke my heart into a million pieces, so be it.
Chapter Six
Chase
I’m still yawning the next morning when I’m standing outside the chapel, holding the bucket to collect my brothers’ phones as they enter our meeting. Torin’s already in there; and from the looks of him, I’m not certain he didn’t sleep on the table last night.
Sax, our MC’s secretary, wanders in first, his perpetual half-grin lighting up his face. He’s the only man I’ve ever seen with a resting laugh face, and I’ve never known him to be
in a bad mood. Hell, he even got his jaw broken once in a fight down in Wilmington, and the son-of-a-bitch was at the bar the next day drinking beer through a straw, smiling ear to ear with his jaw wired shut.
I see Abe towering behind Sax, and give him a nod to thank him for keeping quiet as he drops his flip phone in the bucket. He winks back, then instinctively ducks his head to go through the door to the chapel. The arched doorway is high enough to accommodate the giant brute, but I guess years of bashing his skull on ‘normal’ doors took a toll on him.
Dalton, our money man, comes in next, stopping just long enough to show me a picture of his latest conquest on his phone. The pretty little blond bastard pulls in more tail than the rest of the club combined, and I just snort and wave him on as he starts to go through his camera roll for the last few days. I check Cooper in after him, and then have to wait while our tech guy, Reece, digs through his pockets, dropping two phones and what looks like a game console into the bucket.
Fast Eddie limps down the stairs next, holding up the boys behind him. His old ass is slower than Turtle in the mornings, and he’s struggling to catch what’s left of his brown hair and pull it back into a ponytail when he hustles past me.
Miles, our enforcer while Ian is locked up, is right behind Eddie, and I stop him just long enough to rub his bald dome. “For good luck,” I tease him, knowing how much it irritates him. He just shakes his head and makes room for Gabriel, Abe’s younger brother, who is thankfully a bit smaller than his sibling.
Gabe pauses by me for a moment, casting a critical eye at the vine of black and white roses tattooed on my upper arm. “You need to get over to the shop and let me touch that up for you, man. You’ve been getting too much sun, so those lighter areas are fading badly.”
“Later,” I tell him shortly, waving him on into the room. Gabe runs our tattoo parlor and is always super critical of any ink he didn’t do personally. It’s not my fault he was still a teenager when I got my sleeve done.
I step back to make room as War brings up the rear of the line. If Abe is almost too tall for the clubhouse, then War is too damned wide. I swear the boy is broader than he is tall, and he’s not a short man. I can’t even see a phone in his thick hand when he drops it into the bucket; and when he pats my back to usher me into the room, my feet almost leave the ground.
“Listen up!” Torin says, slamming his gavel down from the head of the table to get the guys to shut up and pay attention. I’ve barely gotten the doors closed, but I’m all ears. I want to know what the fuck’s going on with my brother; and now that we’re all gathered, we’re going to sort this out.
“Some of you may have heard about the wreck on highway seventeen that happened yesterday.”
“Yeah.”
“Yep.”
“Uh-huh.”
Most of the guys agree or nod their heads in agreement.
“Well, it seems that our VP went a little cowboy on some meth dealers.”
The guys slap their hands on the table in approval while I can’t help but think to myself, How the hell does Torin know that they were meth dealers?
“Our stepsister Jade got a call from a reporter this morning,” Torin says, making my heart start beating triple time.
“Sasha called Jade?” I ask aloud, and the room goes silent.
Torin’s eyes narrow in my direction. “Yeah, Sasha Sheridan. How the fuck do you know the reporter?” Before I can respond, his eyes lower to my left pec that remains covered as usual, and he answers his own question since he’s seen it before. “Oh. So that’s the same Sasha as…?”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “One and the same.” Since Torin was off in the Army when Sasha and I were together, he doesn’t know all the details, just the overview — we dated, I wrecked my bike, she got hurt, and it ended.
“Sasha? The sexy blonde reporter from channel seventeen?” Dalton pipes up and asks from the other end of the table.
“That one,” Torin agrees.
“Damn, Chase,” Dalton drawls. “You hittin’ that fine ass bombshell?”
My glare makes the pretty boy prick cower. “Right. Sorry I asked,” he mutters.
“Anyway,” Torin says. “There’s a witness who saw Chase’s cut since he wasn’t smart enough to take it off before committing capital offenses in broad fucking daylight.”
“The assholes threatened Torin and the rest of us,” I say in my defense, so they don’t think I was just being a hothead going off half-cocked like usual. “I had to follow them and didn’t have time to ditch the cut.”
“Who the hell were these assholes?” War, Torin’s Sergeant in Arms, asks, because it’s his responsibility to stand between Torin and any fuckers who try to kill him.
“Hector Cruz’s guys,” Torin responds, and again I’m wondering how the fuck he knows all this. “Jade and the reporter have put a few things together,” he explains. Then, eyeing me, he says, “History or not, we can’t have this reporter…chick broadcasting our shit all over the state and bringing more heat on us.”
My teeth grind together because I’m pretty sure he was gonna call her the reporter bitch but caught himself at the last minute.
“The cops haven’t even been to question our Wilmington charter, which means they don’t have shit. We can’t have her doing their job for them,” my brother adds.
“Yeah.”
“Agreed.”
“Absolutely,” the guys around the table agree.
“She won’t be a problem,” I assure them, but the truth is I haven’t spoken to Sasha in ten years, not since I fucked her on my bike before we were supposed to elope. Even if I get on my knees and beg her to keep her nose out of this mess, she doesn’t have any reason to do me, the man who abandoned her, any fucking favors.
Still, I can at least warn her that she’s on Torin’s radar and that I can’t protect her if she keeps sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. She should know damn well that I can’t protect her from shit, or she wouldn’t have ever been laid up in that hospital for weeks, going through God only knows what kind of pain because of me.
I wanted to be there for her. Hell, I tried to be there for her, spending days in the waiting room to see her, but her father made it clear that Sasha said she never wanted to see me again, and that she blamed me for every second of pain she was going through.
This time I won’t let her down. I’ll make sure that she stays clear of this shitstorm that Torin’s gotten himself into. Which means, whether she likes it or not, it’s time for me to finally pay her a visit.
Chapter Seven
Sasha
“Hi, Daddy!” I say to my father when he answers the phone.
“Hi, sweetie. How did your interview go this morning?”
“Better than I could’ve hoped!” I tell him as I walk to my car in the airport parking lot. “The panel I met said that they need to talk to my producer at WBRL and then I would probably be hearing from them in a few days, with an offer!”
“That’s great, Sash. I’m happy for you. Finally getting your big break,” my father says. “We should celebrate.”
“Yeah, and we will soon,” I promise him. “But I’m sort of beat from all the traveling yesterday and today, so maybe this weekend?”
“Sure, sweetie. We’ll see you then. Love you,” he says.
“Love you, too,” I reply before ending the call.
While I’m excited about the new opportunity, I’m also a little nervous about making the move to the national news.
God knows I’m self-conscious. Of course, everyone in the public eye is somewhat, but because of my scarring and the changes in my face that aren’t my own, I’m super sensitive to the comments assholes sitting behind their computers at home make on social media.
I wish I could avoid those sites altogether, but it’s part of the job, socializing and drawing the public in so that they turn on their televisions to WBRL every night.
Still, the whole time I was away, and even when I was in the inte
rview, my mind was wandering. I couldn’t stop thinking about the story I uncovered right before I left town. And I was curious to see what Jade came up with and if she would tell me if she had something on the Savage Kings, or if she would protect her stepbrothers. So far, her only response was to acknowledge that it was Torin in the photos.
Tomorrow I’ll worry about the drug kingpins and the MC. Tonight is too perfect and beautiful not to climb in my car and enjoy riding home with the top down in my convertible, the warm coastal breeze blowing through my hair.
While the classic convertible that my dad and I rebuilt together isn’t as thrilling a ride as being on the back of a Harley, it’s as close as I can get since I can’t exactly see myself ever getting my motorcycle license. And even after the accident, I would ride again. Maybe most people would swear off the “deathtraps” for good after they go through as much pain and as many surgeries as I have, but it wasn’t the bike’s fault I got hurt. It was the drunk driver who has served his time and paid for his mistake — in more ways than one. I wasn’t entirely surprised seven years ago when I heard that Chase had gotten arrested for beating the man nearly to death the day he was released from his three-year prison sentence.
While I considered going over to have dinner with my parents tonight, I just feel like being alone after the cramped plane ride home. I know they’re not exactly thrilled with the idea of me leaving here to travel the world, reporting from war zones and all other types of dangerous places, but they’ll still support me, like they’ve always done. I don’t know what I would do without my parents always being there for me. After the accident, I even felt guilty for worrying them during my “rebellious phase”, as they called it. They all but chanted, “Told you so” every day that Chase was absent in the hospital, and I hated admitting to myself that they were right about him all along.
