Brand_A Steel Paragons MC Novel

by Eve R. Hart

  It was the best solution here. We hadn’t done anything wrong and it wasn’t like Cami knew anything about the club. Her truth would have been the best thing for all of us right then.

  We walked out, hands raised by our heads, and I did my best to shield her from the bright spotlights that lit up the front. Cops came rushing in and surrounded both of us like we were the ones in the wrong. I didn’t see Connor and I wondered if asking for him would raise suspicion. I decided it was best to keep my mouth shut until I was able to talk to Iron.

  Shit.

  I wished I’d had time to at least send him a text.

  Cami and I were taken out of the shop and to two separate cars. I was forced into the back of one while she was free to calmly take a seat. Not that I was complaining. All my worry was for her right now. They could kick the shit out of me as long as they didn’t treat her like a criminal.

  A man approached me in a suit. This wasn’t an average cop and I had a feeling my night was about to go from ruined to fucked.

  “Brandon Reed.” He paused giving me a smartass smirk. And it didn’t slip past me that he knew my name without seeing my ID. “You’re under arrest for possession of cocaine with the intent to distribute.”

  The fuck?!?!

  Um, no.

  We didn’t deal in drugs. Not any kind. Sure, there were a few brothers that smoked a joint every now and then but we absolutely did not tolerate, let alone sell, anything else. Right then, I knew I was fucked, and as I looked into this guy’s eyes, I knew he wasn’t playing fair. This was some motherfucking power trip. Some way to crack down on criminal organizations.

  “Where is O’Shay?” I ground out because I knew, somehow, that shit was about to go from living hell to burning inferno.

  “On unpaid suspension, pending an investigation. Anything else I can inform you of, biker?” The suited man said and it was almost as if the word ‘scum’ hung in the air after his question.

  “Let her go, she didn’t have anything to do with this,” I said on a resigned sigh. Because it was clear that this guy was here to take me down. And even if I didn’t believe him, two cops chose that moment to walk by carrying evidenced bags that were full of shit that I knew wasn’t in that shop twenty minutes ago.

  My eyes moved to Cami. She was already looking at me, panic clear in her sweet gray eyes. She knew this was all wrong, whatever that cop was telling her, but she wasn’t sure how to save me.

  The cop helped her up and ducked his head as he whispered something to her. She looked at his shoulder, and if she could have seen through it, she would have been looking straight at me. With a quick shake of her head and her arms planted almost on his chest, she answered whatever he had said.

  “You have the right…” the cop recited the Miranda rights as he moved to cuff me. My focus was on Cami, who watched on in horror.

  I wished more than anything I could tell her this wasn’t true. That I wasn’t exactly the criminal they had made me out to be. But then I realized it didn’t matter. Because, drugs or not, I was a criminal. I was on the wrong side of the law, I wouldn’t even try to tell it otherwise. And Cami, well, she deserved better than a guy like me.

  The door slammed closed but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I silently pleaded and begged, but I had no idea if she understood my unsaid meaning. The car rolled off, with me sitting helplessly in the back and I my eyes refused to look away from her. The fear clear as day on her tear streaked face. Then the car turned, and I no longer had eyes on her because the buildings cut off my view. I hated everything right then but I knew I needed to keep calm. There were a million things going through my brain. The most important one was that I’d left her unprotected. And for that I felt a rage like no other work its way through my body.

  What if whoever did this knew about her? What if they followed her home? What if I got free of this nightmare to find out that they’d killed her? It would all be on me and I fucking hated that I couldn’t do a damn thing about it right now.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Cami

  After Brand and I had been fired upon, something I was still struggling to come to grips with, he’d been taken away in a cop car for some bullshit charges. Okay, so I had no actual proof that they were bullshit, it was more of a feeling I had in my gut. And the look on his face as he sought out me, said it all. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t a drug dealer. And so I thought back to everything that I had witnessed while I’d been working at the shop. Sure enough, there wasn’t a single thing that I found odd or out of place. I would even go as far as to say the business was a legitimate one. I mean, I had been there, I’d been allowed access to everything, and though I hadn’t so much as thought about snooping, I also hadn’t come across anything that made me feel like I needed to do so.

  Brand was innocent.

  I knew that in my heart.

  And I hated that there wasn’t a single thing that I could do to help him. To save him.

  The moment they cuffed him and drove him away, I was nothing but a pathetic, rich girl. Exactly what he had thought of me all along.

  “You really should head home, Miss Benson. I’m sure your father wouldn’t want you near this. In fact, I’m sure he doesn’t even know that you’re here, huh?” The man in the suit raised his brow at me as if he knew everything.

  I gritted my teeth, holding back the words that were scratching at my throat to get out. Something was very off here. I knew it, but I couldn’t put my finger on what.

  I knew I couldn’t leave the shop like this. The windows were blown out. Anyone could just walk in and take whatever. I wouldn’t let that happen to Brand. This shop was his everything. It was in his soul and his love. I could tell that from the little time I’d been around him. So, I tried to wave the detective off and waited for an opportunity to sneak off and find a quiet spot to call or text Sketch and Blade. Those were the only numbers I had. I didn’t know Chris’ and I wasn’t sure what he could even do anyway. Sketch was now officially part of the club and I knew he’d have some sort of idea of what to do, or at least come with back up as soon as he got the message.

  The detective didn’t seem to want to leave me alone and internally I screamed in frustration.

  As I waited for the right moment to present itself, my mind started to freak out at all the cops crawling all over the place. Yes, I’d been in a state of shock, but I didn’t miss what Brand had done with his gun. While I sure as hell started to question things because of that, I wasn’t about to let the cops find anything else to throw at him.

  “Um, I need to grab my stuff,” I said meekly, hoping he wouldn’t see right through me.

  “Fine,” the detective said with an edge of irritation in his voice.

  I slipped off to Blade’s room, cursing him for not having blinds on his window. After a moment of watching to make sure all backs were turned in my direction, I hopped up on the chair and as soon as my fingers touched the cold metal, I yanked it down off the top of the frame. Hopping down as quietly as I could manage with my clumsy and still shaky limbs, I tucked the gun away in the back of the waistband of my pants. I wouldn’t say that I was even remotely comfortable having it there, but there was nothing I could do about it at the moment.

  Pressing my luck, I pulled out my phone and sent Sketch the most basic message ever, praying that he would pick up on the unsaid hint that something was wrong.

  Shop now!

  I hoped he would understand or at least figure out where I needed him. Then I powered down my phone so it wouldn’t make any noise, and if Detective Butthead decided to look at it, maybe he would think my battery had died and leave it at that.

  “Find what you were looking for?” the detective asked me, nearly making me jump out of my skin.

  “I thought…I thought I left my purse in here, but it must be in the office.” I drew the words out sounding like I was still shaken and confused.

  Somehow, I was holding it together better than I would have ever imagined I co
uld. I mean, it wasn’t like I went around thinking about ever being put in a situation like this but I figured I would have been a broken mess on the floor.

  “Hurry it up. I’ll have one of my officers drive you home. It isn’t a good idea for you to drive in your state.”

  “Yeah—”

  Whatever I was going to finish that up with was cut off by the sound of motorcycles drawing closer.

  “Fuckin’ hell. How’d they find out?” the detective barked over the noise. His eyes slid back over to me, eyeing me with disdain. Oh well, wasn’t anything he could do about it now. It wasn’t illegal for me to send a text, as long as I wasn’t driving, right? “Clear out. You four stay, and don’t let them in.” He pointed to a group of officers standing near the front.

  The motorcycles came to a screeching halt right outside of the shop.

  “The fucking shit is going on here?” Sketch said without even sounding intimidated by the men in blue as he stepped up to the pathetic cop barricade. “The fuck happened to the shop?”

  They didn’t say anything to him and he looked a second away from punching one of them. A few guys stepped up behind him, they were wearing cuts too. I thought I recognized at least one of them, but the flashing lights were messing with my head. I hadn’t really met many of the club members, and I didn’t even have the first clue as to how many members there were. Some had stopped by the shop and introduced themselves while they were there, but that had been about it.

  “Cami?!” Sketch called out as he looked past the cops and into the shop. If I wasn’t mistaken there was a flicker of concern in his tone and a sadness pinched in his brow. “Get the fuck outta my way, dick!” And without touching them, he turned his body and slid between two of the officers. For some reason they let him pass, but he was the only one they let through.

  “I’m okay, Sketch. I’m fine.” No, I wasn’t and I was pretty sure that was clear by the fact that I’d tried to be so reassuring.

  Before I was ready for it, his arms circled around me and he crushed me into his chest, protective and comforting all at the same time.

  “You done here?” he barked at the detective. The tension was so thick that I could feel it all the way through to my bones.

  “Miss Benson, can I get you an escort home?” the detective asked me. I shook my head against Sketch’s chest but didn’t look at him. “I don’t think it’s wise for you to stay. I could call your parents for you, if you’d like.” It wasn’t a question, it was a threat. But I didn’t care right then, I didn’t want to go with the officers. And let me not forget that I had a dang gun in the back of my pants.

  “She don’t want your creepy ass taking her anywhere. Fuck off.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the detective’s jaw tick. Sketch was really pushing it and the last thing I wanted was for him to be taken away too. I breathed a sigh of relief when the detective stepped back and walked away, leaving the scene and taking his cops with him.

  An odd silence fell over the shop as they cut the flashing lights and drove away.

  Then I was surrounded and I started to feel shaky and sweaty.

  “Oh, God! Take this thing,” I said, turning around and pulling up my shirt. I didn’t want to touch it again that was for sure. “Now!”

  “Oh fuck, C-money,” Sketch said and a second later he pulled the gun out and away from me. “Do I even want to know? You look good with a piece on you, though.”

  I knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to ease the tension of what was going on. And part of me appreciated it. But part of me, a bigger part of me, knew that there were serious things that needed to be handled.

  It didn’t escape me that they had cleared the scene. It also didn’t escape me that they hadn’t done any kind of search. They’d found the drugs right away but then didn’t even bother to look for anything else. Something was up. Nothing about this night was sitting right with me.

  “Can you tell us what happened?” I turned my attention to the man that spoke. He was at least ten years older than me, with a handsomely worn face. A face that was currently frozen in a half-angry and half-concerned expression. My eyes roamed over his face then down to his chest. I stared at the patch just under the name Iron. President. This was the big man, so to say. “Cami?” My name sounded soft and almost unsure on his lips.

  I gave a timid nod as I swallowed against the dryness that filled my throat.

  “Brand. Oh, shit-sticks. They took him.”

  I looked at Sketch with a sad, pleading look. Brand needed help and here I was wasting time. With a deep inhaled breath, I continued as fast as I could.

  “We were here, cleaning the case,” I lifted my finger to the spot to prove my point. The cleaning supplies were still sitting on the floor, now surrounded by shards of broken glass. I shook off the uneasiness and continued. I thought it was best to skip over the whole kiss thing. “Then there were rapid popping sounds and glass breaking. I didn’t see anything because Brand took me down and covered my body. He was hit. There was blood.”

  My breath kicked up a notch and for some strange reason, my fingers brushed over my shoulder in the exact same place Brand had been hurt.

  “On his shoulder?” Iron asked me.

  “Yes,” I nodded and I had a hard time getting my eyes to focus on anything. “But he said he was fine. The place went quiet and there were car tires squealing. The sounds faded, then there was nothing. I went into Blade’s room while Brand checked to make sure they were gone. The gun,” I motioned at Sketch, though I was sure they understood what I was talking about without me having to say anything further. “Brand tucked it on top of that stupid wood monstrosity Blade calls a frame right when the cop car lights started to flash outside.”

  “You said they took him? Did they arrest him? Or take him to the hospital because he was shot?” Iron asked me almost too calmly. I had a feeling he knew the answer even before I said it.

  “They arrested him,” I said as I blinked my focus to meet his eyes. “None of it seemed right. I mean, not like I would know, I’ve never been in…a situation like this before. But there were no sirens when they pulled up. They separated us, and not long after that, the detective came out holding something about the size of a brick. A cop followed him carrying two more of the same thing. I heard the word ‘cocaine,’ followed by the detective saying something about intent to distribute. I was too far away to catch all of it. Then they were putting the cuffs on Brand. I wasn’t sure if they were going to search the place, so I slipped away and grabbed the gun just in case.” My shoulders lifted and fell in a quick shrug.

  “You did good. Thank you, Cami,” Iron said and I could see the frustration in his narrowed eyes, but I could tell that it wasn’t aimed at me.

  There were looks exchanged all around. Some kind of silent conversation was taking place between all of them.

  “You don’t know where the cocaine came from, do you?” I asked, maybe getting a bit too big for my britches. “I mean…you don’t deal in drugs, am I right?”

  Iron cleared his throat and took me in for a long moment.

  “No.” That was all he offered. I knew I’d been right. Maybe they had hands in some sort of other criminal activity, but it was clear the drugs were not theirs.

  Then my crazy mind went into overdrive. The only explanation was that the drugs had to have been planted. Since Sketch was part of the club and I very highly doubted Blade would have anything to do with the stuff, my only other thought was the detective. The very one that made something sour in my gut from the moment I laid eyes on him.

  “Omigod!” I blurted out suddenly. “The cameras. Sketch the cameras. Why didn’t I think of it sooner? There has to be something there to help Brand out.”

  “What a shit fucking night.” Sketch shook his head and looked at Iron.

  “So you have no idea who shot up the place at all? Did Brand say anything?” Iron asked me.

  “No. I’m sorry, I didn’t see anything and I
don’t think that Brand did either. They were gone by the time he made it to the front.”

  “Cami, since we don’t know who did this or what the fuck is going on, I’m gonna ask you to stay at the compound for a bit. Alright?” Iron’s eyes were soft as he spoke but I could tell that none of it was a question.

  And in truth, being surrounded by men that would be able to protect me seemed like the smartest idea right then. So with no hesitation, I gave a nod.

  And that was how I found myself driving my car all but surrounded by a group of bikers to a motel-turned-compound hidden behind a row of trees. If you would have asked me before this moment if I thought this was a good idea, I would have hesitated on my answer and still probably told you no. But as Sketch pulled open my door and helped me out, I couldn’t think of a safer place to be.

  He ushered me inside. We walked through what looked like a common lounge area. Then into a large kitchen with quite a few tables strewn about. I could tell that it was still a work in progress.

  “The fuck you doin’ here?” Iron’s tight voice made my head snap in the direction he was facing. “O’Shay, this isn’t a good time and right now, I don’t know if I can trust you.”

  The man he was talking to sat at one of the tables, steaming coffee cup in front of him, and a few vested men sitting around him. He was dressed in jeans and a faded T-shirt. His hair was mussed almost beyond the point of sexy like he’d spent the last few hours doing nothing but running his hands through it and tugging at the ends. When his eyes cut over in this direction, they looked tired and angry. The thick, dark stubble that dotted his jaw only accentuated his exhausted features.

  “Shite’s going on,” the guy said with the slightest of lilt in his voice, his eyes flickered over to mine for a split second before returning to the president. “Need to talk.”

  “You came here alone?” Iron barked.

  “Yes, but it isn’t without my family’s knowledge.”