by Nicole Fox
“Yes, well,” Koen said, foundering a little, “I can't really disclose that because of an agreement we signed. I'd be breaking the, uh, contractual obligation, you see, and open myself up to lawsuits.”
“Oh,” Claire said, sitting back a little. “Okay. Well, what did you mean to do to help me, then, if you can't disclose these dealings?”
Koen leaned forward a little, hunching his shoulders like he was conspiring with her. “I think,” he began, “I can get him into a hotel room and get him to admit to illegally selling firearms, like the rumor that's going around.”
“You could, could you?”
I kept my smile up, despite the fact that I didn't think Agent McKesson was going to buy it.
“Yes,” Koen said. “I'd need certain assurances, of course.”
“What kind are we talking about?” she asked.
“That you would leave me and my associates out of this. I don't want to be investigated before, during, or afterward. But, I promise you, I can get him to you on a silver platter.”
Halfway through his last statement, Agent McKesson rolled her eyes so hard, they looked like they were about unscrew from their sockets. “Mr. Baldwin, let me know just stop you right there. I don't know what your grandfather told you, but that ain't gonna fly. We need to know the full extent of your business dealings, and we have to know if there's any outstanding liability on you before we just give you a free pass on this.”
“But, I can get him for you,” Koen replied. “I'm telling you, we can send this guy up the river. Believe me, he's dirty as all Hell.”
I fiddled with my hands in my lap, itching to say my peace. Koen was just screwing this all up with his needless dodging. For once, we needed to be frank with someone, needed to actually tell the damned truth.
“Mr. Baldwin . . . Koen.” The FBI agent leaned in closer, so close her lips were almost touching Koen's. “I fucking know he's dirty. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. But, if you can't tell us what business you had with him, even a clue to it, then we can't talk turkey here. Got it?”
I leaned forward. “Koen,” I said, cutting him off as opened his mouth and went to speak, “cut the bullshit. Agent McKesson, let me tell you the truth. The whole truth. My name's Jace Spears, and I killed Sven Morokov in the hotel room.”
# # #
Koen
I don't know what the fuck Jace was thinking, or what she thought she'd accomplish by opening her big mouth, but there wasn't any stopping her now.
“Look,” she said, one eye on me and the other on the FBI agent, “I'm gonna be blunt. I ran away from home when I was sixteen and eventually ended up as a prostitute with Sven. I ran because my pervy-ass stepdaddy went from just beating me and my brother to giving me creepy looks the day my momma died, and I needed to get away from him before something worse than just looks happened to me. Sven was my pimp for years and years, and kept me as a prostitute.”
The shocked look on the Agent's face just grew and grew for the first leg of Jace's explanation, and my own mortification intensified. I wasn't sure where Jace was going with this, but I hoped it worked. Likely, though, it probably wouldn't. Of course, she wasn't the type of woman to take “no” for an answer. That much, at least, I'd learned over the last week.
“That night last week, it was me in the hotel room with Sven. My brother is Tomlin Spears, the boy that was found. He was my younger brother, and he somehow found me. Sven killed him, I shot Sven with his own gun. I'm willing to face the consequences for what I did, even though I don't feel a bit of guilt. So, if you gotta lock someone up, lock me up, alright? But, first, I want to help you make Aleksey pay for everything he's done. That man is a goddamn snake in the grass and deserves whatever he gets, especially after what happened to my brother.”
Agent McKesson's face had softened during Jace's rambling confession, enough so that I thought we even had a chance of convincing her to let us help. She took a deep drink from her cocktail and, crunching the ice, seemed to consider Jace's words carefully.
“Jace, let me start by saying, I can't even begin to understand what you've gone through, or are going through. I've met a lot of people with really tough lives, and this one's right up there.”
“Uh, thanks,” Jace said from beside me. Her eyes were lit up a little from just getting to unburden herself to the agent, and I could tell she was hopeful for things to work out.
“However,” the agent said, then paused and took another drink.
I, on the other hand, was not nearly as optimistic.
“However,” she began again, reaching across the table to put her hand over Jace's, “I can't help you. I'm going to disregard what you just told me, as I'm not working the case. When you go through the proper channels with the local authorities, please don't mention me. At all. My relationship with your boyfriend's grandfather would make it look improper as Hell for me to be involved.”
My heart sunk. Not only had Jace just admitted to killing Sven, she'd also showed as completely unreliable. And, without any help from the FBI, we were pretty much fucked when it came to getting out of this.
Agent McKesson turned her attention back to me, a frown creasing her lips. “And you, Mr. Baldwin. When you're ready to discuss what business you had with Mr. Volkov, and how you can be of better assistance, please contact me. Other than that, I think we're done here.” As she closed her remarks, she began digging through the pockets of her slacks. She pulled out as wad of bills and tossed it on the table between us.
“So, you're just going to leave?” Jace asked, her face completely downcast.
“Yes, Ms. Spears, I am.” And, with that, Agent McKesson was up and out of the little back booth.
“Fuck,” Jace groaned.
“Fuck is right,” I agreed as I turned to her.
“So, what now?” she asked.
“What now?” I asked, laughing a little. “Now we change our plans up. You, little girl, just completely fucked us over. Your save-the-day balls-to-the-wall attitude might have just cost you your goddamn freedom. We better get out of town before the local boys come sniffing around for you after that little stunt you just pulled. We're going on the run, sweetie.”
“Fuck,” Jace groaned again, this time drawing out the word as she planted her face in her hands.
“Yep,” I said. “Looks like we got all dressed up for nothing.”
Chapter Eighteen
Jace
“You fucking did what?” Benji screamed at me. Her eyes were wide, blood shot, and spittle flew from her lips. There we were, me and Koen both, getting reamed in the meeting room at Club Hellfire.
I hung my head in shame. There wasn't anything else I could really do. She and Koen were both right. I'd fucked up royally.
“What in the fucking fuck were you thinking, you fucking dipshit? You confessed to it, to a fucking cop?”
“I-”
“Shut the fuck up!” Benji screamed, cutting me off. “Everything that's happened in my fucked up life, in your fucked up life, for the last week has been because of you! We had a chance here, and you fucked it up with him. I don't know what's fucking going on with you, but you need to pull your goddamned head out of your fucking ass before you get all of us arrested, or worse!”
I kept my head down. She was right, right about all of it. The hotel had been my fault, us ending up as property of the F&B MC was my fault, the truck had been all me, and now this. All of it, every bit of it.
Fed put a hand on her shoulder, and she paused to glance at him. She took a deep breath, tried to remain focused. But, then she was back at it, just not as loudly as before. “You dragged me away from my life,” Benji said, her voice dripping with resentment as she ticked off the outcome of my decisions on one hand. “Sure, it wasn't a great life, but you got me fucking shot along the way, and now I might be going down for aiding and abetting your sorry ass. I don't know what the fuck happened to you, Jace, but you're not the girl I met years ago.”
&
nbsp; She was right, too. I'd survived the streets for years, practically on my own. I did it by keeping a cool head, by never going ahead half-cocked like I had been. Maybe losing Tomlin had set something off in me. Like, if he wasn't around, what was the point?
I sighed and let my shoulders sag. “I'm . . . I'm sorry, Benji. I'm really sorry, okay?”
“I know you are,” she said, her tone cutting.
I groaned again. I didn't know how I was going to make this right. But, luckily, I knew the first step. Change my attitude, before everyone else around me was put in deeper danger.
“And, you,” Benji said, turning on the president of the Fire and Brimstone MC, “what the fuck were you thinking with that bullshit story?”
# # #
Koen
“If this wasn't so goddamned awful,” Fed said, “I'd be laughing my ass off at how big of a fucking idiot you are, Boss.”
I groaned. “I know I'm an idiot. I just thought I could pull it off somehow, you know, that I could take down Aleksey and leave all you guys in the clear on it.”
“You thought you were going to somehow con an FBI field agent into thinking you were a mild-mannered business man, by insisting they not investigate you before or after you helped them?” he asked, slowly shaking his head.
Well, at least he wasn't screaming at me like Benji had screamed at Jace. Poor Jace was shell-shocked from it, barely even able to mumble after her friend's verbal assault.
“See?” Fed asked. “That right there, that's your fucking problem, Boss.”
“What?” I asked, blinking in surprise.
“That. You're fucking confident about everything, over-fucking-confident, if you ask me. You're like Evil Knievel trying to jump the goddamn Grand Canyon, but you want all of us to climb on the fucking bike with you.”
I almost laughed at his metaphor, but I kept it down. I'd always been bad about cracking up when I was getting yelled at, whether it was by Grandpa Xavier, or my father. Apparently, I was bad even when it was my best friend dressing me down.
“You got people depending on you, man,” Fed continued. “People who might go to fucking prison if you don't figure your shit out. I'm depending on you; these girls are depending on you. And, shit, look at the way you've been going after Volkov. I told you, dude, that we didn't need to go after the Wolf again, but you kept right on, didn't you? And you almost got us killed then, didn't you?”
I sighed and sat back in my chair, crossed my legs. “My plan almost worked,” I said.
Fed sat back, laughing and shaking his head. “See? That's what I fucking mean. Confident to a motherfucking T, man.”
“Maybe I should just go, then,” I offered, my words carrying more vehemence and spite than I meant. As soon as I spoke them, I realized I sounded like a spoiled little brat.
“What?” Fed asked, genuinely perplexed. “You think running away is going to solve this problem? Nature abhors a void, Koen. You can't go, or someone else is going to step in to fill your space. Maybe more than one person. And, while we're fighting, the Thunder Kings roll in, and God knows what other gangs in the area. When we found the girls, you told everyone you'd never run girls. You think whoever takes over the MC after you're gone is going to have the same scruples? If someone worse comes in here, I'm not going to keep my mouth shut like I did with you in charge.”
I wiped a hand down my face, groaning in exasperation. “Fine,” I said, patting my leg, “what do you think we should do, since I'm apparently shit at making plans.”
Benji and Fed looked to each other first, then back at me. “We've been talking,” Fed replied after a moment.
Benji nodded emphatically. “We think Agent McKesson is still the right way to go. But only with the truth.”
“The whole fucking truth,” Fed added, stabbing the air with his finger to punctuate each word. “And nothing fucking but.”
I sighed and nodded. “Fine,” I said.
It wasn't till Jace and I got home a little later that I realized I'd just experienced the most polite coup of all time.
Chapter Nineteen
Jace
“Well, that was fucking brutal,” Koen said as we walked in from the garage.
Honestly, I was surprised we were walking straight after brutal verbal barrage we'd just received. Not that it had been unwarranted, or anything, because it hadn't. They'd been spot on with damn near every word, and we both knew it. Sometimes, the words another person can speak to you are so like your own thoughts, though, that they cut even deeper than they would otherwise.
Koen headed into the living room and collapsed on the couch, his suit jacket tossed aside on the back of a chair.
“We deserved it,” I replied as I headed into the kitchen and grabbed us both beers. I was starting to treat the place like I lived there, like I actually belonged.
“About what you told Agent McKesson,” Koen said as I walked back in and handed him his beer.
“What about it?” I grumbled as I slumped into the seat next to him.
“Was . . . was that all true?”
I nodded. Then, I thought about it, and kind of shrugged. “Mostly. There was another guy in there before Sven. But, mostly true, yeah.”
We both sat there on his big, luxurious couch, quiet for a moment. He slid an arm out, wrapped it around my shoulders, and pulled me close. I relaxed into him, savoring the feel of a strong and protective arm around me.
He adjusted himself in his seat, turning a little so we could look at each other. Those steely blue eyes of his had softened, like ice on a sunny day. “I'm going to take care of you,” he said.
I smiled weakly up at him. I'd heard those words from so many men before. Johns and pimps, even my stepfather. Guys who wanted to rescue this little ole Southern damsel in distress. But, the look in his eyes told me his words were different.
It might not happen, but he was going to try his damnedest and least make the effort. It was that damn ego of his, coming back up. But, at least he was making promises like this, instead of putting me and my girlfriend in harm's way.
He took my beer from me and set it aside with his on the end table.
“Wha-?”
He wrapped his arm tighter around me and kissed me softly, sweetly. With my eyes closed, the feel of his cleanly shaved upper lip made him feel like a new man. Or, rather, a changed one.
“Koen!” I yelped as he stood and swept me into his arms, carrying me like a new bride he was about to carry over the threshold. I just hoped he wasn't going to treat me like I got married in all white.
“What the fuck?” I asked, my legs kicking a little as I slapped his chest. I felt like a doll in his hands, a petite little toy that he had every ounce of control over. But, I didn't mind. Not one bit.
He silenced me with a deep kiss and headed upstairs to the bedroom.
I relaxed into his arms as he hauled me upstairs like a barbarian warlord taking home his spoils of battle. The door to his bedroom was almost closed, but unlatched, and he kicked it open with one booted foot. He carried me over to the unmade bed, placed me gently at the foot of it, then kissed me again.
His lips were soft as ever, but more intense than our first time. I could feel the passion there, but it was simmering below the surface. Soon, our hands were on each other. I ran mine over his chest, his abs, his arms. I stroked his face, lightly scratched his neck with my nails.
I opened my mouth to him, and our tongues danced together as he ran his fingers through my hair. A groan escaped my lips as he lightly pulled, shooting a pang of need through my body.
He began to strip me of my clothes. I went to help him, but he brushed my hands away as he began to work on the buttons of my top. Soon, I was bare to him, with just my black lacy bra I'd picked up for the occasion.
I kissed him again as my hands went to his tie and began to loosen it.
He pulled my top from my shoulders, and I disentangled my arms from the sleeves. I went to return my hands to him, just to get a taste o
f those hard muscles again, to feel him beneath my touch, but he swept up my wrists and pushed them aside.
“Not yet,” he whispered in a low growl.
I moaned softly as he took charge, as I knew that, as tender and caring as he could be, I was still his. My body belonged to him, and not just because I was renting space in his house. This was something deeper, more important.
He crushed his lips to mine, some of that tenderness disappearing in the heat of the moment. He ran his rough hands over my smooth skin as we kissed, his calluses and work-strong hands making me feel small in his grasp. One of them unsnapped my bra in the front, the other dipped down and found the front of my slacks and unbuttoned them.
