Lies & Deception

by Nic Starr

“Has there been any word on Pete? I’ve only had the clinical update. How are his parents doing?” Concern was evident in Ross’s voice. “And more importantly, how are you doing?”

  “It’s been a couple of days, and Pete hasn’t deteriorated, so that’s the main thing. He’s still in a coma, but there hasn’t been any additional brain swelling. I’m not sure when they’re looking to try to bring him out of it, but I think the intention is to keep him in a coma long enough for him to start healing.”

  “And the Crowleys?”

  “I’ve spoken to them a couple of times each day since Wednesday. They’re hanging in there. No one likes to see their son in such a condition—” Fuck, Mitch hated seeing Pete lying there with all the tubes and machines, so could only imagine the distress his parents were going through. “But they’re hopeful.” At the unspoken prompt in Ross’s eyes, Mitch continued. “And before you ask again, I’m fine. I’m upset by what happened to Pete, just like I’d be upset if it happened to any of my other friends, but that’s all.”

  Ross seemed to accept the answer and didn’t push Mitch for more. It didn’t stop him asking about Finn, though. “And how are you handling this thing you’ve got going with Finn Cummings?”

  “Ah, the million-dollar question.” Mitch drew his hand down his face, reminiscent of the action Ross had made only a short time before. The rasp of a couple of days’ beard growth reminded him he hadn’t had much time for anything apart from driving Finn and meeting with Rocky, and he was well overdue a shave. He sighed and finally met Ross’s gaze. “This is me talking to you as a friend, right?”

  “Of course.” Ross relaxed back into his chair.

  “I’m not sure I understand it myself. Fuck, it’s been quick and come from total left field, but I’ve got feelings. Finn’s… I don’t know…. There’s something different about him, something special.”

  “Mitch, he’s a Cummings—”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Mitch sat upright and squared his shoulders. “You think I don’t think about that every minute of every day—”

  “And that’s what I’m worried about.” Ross’s voice rose in volume to meet Mitch’s, and Mitch cringed as he realized he was nearly shouting. “You shouldn’t be thinking of Finn Cummings as any more than a means to an end. That kid is part of the Soldiers of Fury hierarchy, and that means he’s the bad guy.”

  The words were like daggers to Mitch’s heart, each one piercing with pain. He deflated, and his words dropped to almost a whisper, because no matter what he knew about Finn, no matter how much he knew Finn hated his brother and didn’t agree with everything the club stood for, there was no changing the facts—Finn was still a member of an outlaw bikie gang. “I know. Oh fuck, Ross. What the hell am I going to do? He’s a criminal.”

  “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

  Mitch’s eyes snapped up. “What?”

  “Oh Jesus, mate. He’s gotten to you, gotten to you deep. I haven’t seen you like this since…. Actually I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

  The thing was, Mitch knew Ross was right; he just didn’t want to say it out loud. Voicing his feelings would make it real, too real, and the reality of the situation was something he wanted to avoid as long as possible.

  Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT

  THE AFTERNOON had dragged. Finn looked at his watch. Four o’clock. Late enough that he could make his escape. He almost groaned with relief. He shut down his various applications and computer, then shoved the paperwork he hadn’t gotten to in the top drawer, locked it, then placed the key under the sticky-tape holder. Not exactly secure, and due to his increasing paranoia Rocky wouldn’t be happy if he knew, but the papers were just outstanding invoices, nothing out of the ordinary and of no value to anybody.

  Finn pushed back from the desk, stood, and pocketed his phone. Mitch was no doubt out in the workshop, so he’d find him there and get them on the road back to the house. He smiled at the thought of heading home, something that was now very appealing—such an about-face from never wanting to be in the place to suddenly having a reason to want to be there. Finn was even considering doing some improvements to the house to make it more livable. He reasoned it wouldn’t be wasted effort because it would add value he’d get back if—when—he sold the house. So what if he and Mitch would be more comfortable in the meantime?

  The hall was quiet apart from the sound of the piped rock music coming from the showroom. Business was good and picking up, surprising in such a crap economy, but the shop usually had a customer or two wandering around, and, most important, they brought their checkbooks. Maybe splurging on personal indulgences such as luxury motorcycles was a way of getting through tough times? Finn chuckled. Maybe I should try it?

  Raised voices suddenly came from Rocky’s office, dowsing Finn’s good mood. Fuck! Finn stepped up his pace, thinking he’d get out of there before he, or the yelling, drew anyone’s attention. The shouting continued as he crossed the showroom and approached the back door—if anything, it got louder.

  “Finn!” Finn stopped at Ginger’s call. He turned to face her and groaned.

  “No, Ginger. I’m leaving.”

  “Please, Finn. You can’t leave. He’s been an arsehole all day, and it’s just getting worse.”

  Another yell, this time followed by a slamming door, and the couple of customers stopped their browsing and focused on the hall where Rocky emerged in a fury.

  “Fucking fuckers! I’ll goddamn kill them!”

  “Finn,” Ginger pleaded and gave Finn a shove toward his brother. Finn sucked in a breath and resigned himself to getting involved in whatever had Rocky so worked up.

  “Hey, Rocky, what’s going on?” He aimed for a casual tone, keeping half an eye on the customers.

  “The fucking Brute Riders, that’s what’s going on. I’ll fucking kill them!”

  The customers were starting to look uneasy, craning over the displayed motorcycles to peer at the commotion despite the salespeople trying to draw their attention away.

  “C’mon, let’s go back to your office. You don’t want to have this conversation out here,” Finn said.

  Rocky finally took in his surroundings, gaze darting around the showroom before settling back on Finn. Jesus! His pupils were constricted, and he was jittery. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything else, Finn nudged him back the way he’d come. Rocky tripped over his feet but thankfully didn’t put up much resistance. Finn looked over his shoulder to see Ginger give a thumbs-up. He rolled his eyes, accepting of his fate: having to deal with his psychotic brother.

  Together Finn and Rocky stumbled into the office. Finn flinched as the door bounced off the wall before rebounding and slamming shut, but Rocky ignored the racket, too focused on his own rage. He paced the small room, mumbling and swearing.

  “Take it easy, Rocky. Let me know what’s going on, and we can sort it out.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” Spittle flew as Rocky rounded on him.

  “Okay, okay. Calm down.” Finn held his palms up.

  “Where the fuck’s Stack? We’ve got to do something. There’s no way in hell they’re getting away with this shit.” Rocky fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his phone, pushing at the screen and continuing to rant. He looked up at Finn, struggling to focus. “They killed him. They wrapped his bike around a tree. Made it look like a fucking accident. Left him there to die. And then Rabbit. What the fuck? Took his fucking badge. Skinned him like a goddamn carcass!”

  Rocky’s statements didn’t link together in any way that made sense. Skinned someone? Left someone to die? What did a rabbit have to do with anything? “Who? What are you talking about? What’s that about a rabbit?”

  Rocky took a deep breath, his trembling more under control. “Russell Hutchins, the Rabbit. He’s one of us—was one of us. Lucky just called. He’s been chasing down the car that took out Pete and heard a few things on the grapevine. Turns out the Rabbit was killed a couple of
weeks ago, and the bastards took his badge. Sliced the skin off to take the patch tatted on his back.” Rocky’s laugh was hysterical, and Finn’s stomach churned. “Some fucking way to take a badge from a man. Lucky called his brother and got confirmation: the police recently identified the body and notified the family this week. His brother’s up in arms, blaming the whole thing on us. On us! Like we did it.”

  “If someone killed him and cut the tattoo off his back, then it’s a good chance it’s club related.”

  “Of course it bloody is, but we didn’t start this war. The fucking Brutes did.”

  “Well—”

  “I need to get hold of Stack. Lucky’s coming back, and we need to hit these guys where it hurts.”

  “Where it hurts?”

  “They’re not getting away with this. They think they can take out one of our men, and we’ll sit by and do nothing? Well, they’ve got another thing coming. Once we get there, they’ll wish they never messed with the Soldiers.”

  “Rushing out and retaliating without a plan is reckless—”

  “Who said anything about not having a plan? We’ll have a fucking plan—a plan to hit them where it hurts and take the whole fucking lot of them down!”

  “And we will,” Finn confirmed. “But there’s no sense in hurrying. We’ll get them. We need to be logical—”

  “Don’t fuckin’ lecture me. I’m in charge, and I’ll be the one deciding what we do and when we do it. I’m the one giving orders, and don’t you forget it!”

  “Yes. You’re right. Sorry.” As much as it grated, Finn knew he had to calm Rocky somehow, and bowing down to him seemed the best way. There was no point in aggravating him further, and in his current hyped-up, doped-up state, it didn’t appear to take much to set him off. “How about you take it easy in here for a moment? I’ll go find Stack and bring him back so you can fill him in and tell him what you want done.”

  Rocky stopped pacing and his shoulders slumped. “’Kay.”

  “All right, hang here, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. Maybe you can rustle up Lucky on the phone and find out where he is, bring him in so he can tell us what he knows face-to-face?”

  Rocky grunted and fumbled for his phone, Finn grateful he didn’t realize he was following directions. Once he was positive Rocky wasn’t going anywhere, Finn hurried from the office. It didn’t take long to find Stack. He was out the back having a cigarette with Mitch, the two of them leaning against the back fence.

  Finn’s heart sped up when Mitch met his eyes, but he tamped down the automatic smile and focused on Stack.

  “Stack. There’s been a development. Rocky needs you in the office. Now.”

  Stack, man of few words that he was, didn’t ask any questions, just ground out his cigarette with the sole of his boot and headed toward the building. Mitch spoke once he was out of earshot.

  “Hey,” Mitch said in a low voice. “Are you okay? You look upset.”

  “Hey.” This time Finn couldn’t keep the smile from his voice as he echoed Mitch’s greeting. He loved knowing Mitch was concerned and able to read him that well. “Shit’s going down with Rocky. Something about one of the guys being killed, and Rocky’s sure the Brutes are responsible.”

  Mitch raised his brows. “Yeah?”

  “Russell something. Rabbit. I never met him, but Rocky’s spitting chips and wants retaliation.”

  Mitch looked slightly taken aback for a second, and then his gaze darkened. “What’s he going to do?”

  “I’m not sure. He wants to do something quickly, but I’ve convinced him he needs to talk to Stack first. There’s no point doing anything without a plan. If they rush in like a bull at a gate, they won’t get the best outcome.”

  “You want them to plan a retaliation, get back at the Brutes?”

  Finn nodded. There had to be plan. Without a plan, there’d be no chance of stopping anything. He needed to know what was happening in advance so he could intervene, not let them storm off. “Of course I want a plan. Without a plan of attack, they’ll just be putting themselves and the rest of the Soldiers in danger. There’ll be an all-out war.” God, even the thought made him feel sick to the stomach.

  Mitch’s face clouded over again. “Well, I guess we’d best get in there, then, so you can get involved. Don’t want to miss all the fun.”

  Mitch moved to step past him, but Finn halted him. “Wait.”

  “What?” Mitch snapped.

  Finn didn’t have time to deal with whatever was going on with Mitch. It was obvious from his attitude and demeanor he was pissed off. But Mitch was right—they needed to get into that office so Finn could guide some of the discussion or at least know what Rocky and Stack were thinking of doing. He’d have to talk to Mitch later, but now he wanted to make sure he and Mitch were on the same page. As much as that is possible.

  “Rocky’s not in control. He’s definitely using, and not in a small way. He’s aggressive and paranoid, and at times he sounds confused. I’m frightened that he’ll do something really stupid. We need to try to mold him into our way of doing things.”

  “And what’s that? What’s our way? You’ve got an idea of how to handle the situation?”

  Finn ran a hand through his hair. “No. I wish I did. I just want to delay any action. You’ll help me, right? Whatever Rocky has in mind, we’ll make sure it doesn’t happen immediately.” Finn’s mind filled with jumbled ideas. “Maybe if we arrange a meeting, but then I can talk to the Brutes.”

  “Why would you do that? And it’s not as if Rocky would even let you play a part in any discussions.”

  “I don’t know.” Finn sighed. “I’m thinking on the fly here. But if Rocky gets face-to-face with the Brutes and delivers ultimatums, then things will definitely go downhill fast. He can hardly rein in his temper at the best of times.”

  “And you think you’d do a better job?”

  “Fuck! Anyone could do a better job at running this club. Listen, are you going to help me or not?”

  “Yeah. I’ll help.”

  Finn put a hand on Mitch’s arm. He could feel the heat beneath his palm and wished he could wrap his whole body around him. Strange as it was, Finn wanted to comfort Mitch even amongst the shit fest of club business. “I know you feel a loyalty to the club and to Rocky and want to earn your badge. I understand how hard it is for you to not follow Rocky’s orders to a T, but I’m not asking you to go against him, just delay any meeting until he has time to calm down. Just until I have time to talk to him and make sure any discussion or negotiation is a reasonable one. I only want to limit the fallout, not take over the leadership.”

  Mitch held his gaze. Damn, I wish I knew what he’s thinking. Slowly he nodded. “Okay.” Finn let out his breath in relief.

  Together they made their way side by side back to the building.

  The knowledge they were going to talk to Rocky and Stack about an attack on the Brutes sat like a heavy weight in Finn’s chest.

  As did the knowledge that Mitch was a loyal club member who’d go along with whatever idiocy Rocky dreamed up.

  Chapter TWENTY-NINE

  FINN’S OFFICE was neat as a pin. Its orderly appearance, with clear desktop and everything in its place, was a reflection of the man himself—dedicated, organized, and focused. Finn did what needed to be done, whether it was here in the office or back at their house. Their house? Since when did it become my house? Mitch chuckled, the sound loud in the small office and making him suddenly self-conscious. Fuck, he was losing it.

  He tore his mind back to the immediate situation. He’d extracted himself from the gathering in Rocky’s office because he needed to get ahold of Ross and let him know about the shit that was about to go down.

  Rocky Cummings was about to do something incredibly stupid. His plan was to set up the Brutes. He was going to lure them to “neutral” ground, supposedly to negotiate territory. He intended to use the drug haul as a bargaining chip to sweeten the deal. His aim was to set up the opposing
club and take out its leader, Steve “Slider” Popov, and his right-hand man, Joker Dunstan. It wasn’t proven that Rocky hadn’t done it before, but Rocky was now officially moving into the world of murder. Fuck!

  Mitch’s fingers felt thick as he swiped them across the surface of his phone and typed out a brief message to Ross. He didn’t have long, and his haste seemed to slow his typing. He’d only just hit Send, quickly followed by Delete, when the door opened. At the sound of the door, he shoved his phone away and turned to face Finn.

  “Everything all right?”

  He nodded. “I guess so. As all right as can be expected.” It would be all right if Ross were able to ensure a tail was on them ASAP, make sure they’d be covered as they headed to the rendezvous. Wherever that is. “What about you?”

  Finn’s usually tanned face was pale, his eyes dull. “Not really.” He closed the door and stepped toward Mitch. “I hate all of this.”

  “I thought you wanted the confrontation?”

  Finn’s eyes widened. “Are you crazy? I thought you knew me better than that by now. I hate everything to do with the club, or at least what Rocky’s made it. I hate the drugs. I hate the violence.”

  “So when you wanted to plan the attack…?” Mitch was having trouble keeping up.

  “I wanted to delay anything happening, Mitch. I wanted to give us—me—a chance to stop it, or at least change the course of action. Like I said before, if Rocky goes out with guns blazing, the whole thing’ll be a catastrophe. It just may well be a disaster anyway. Rocky’s crazy, and he’ll get us all killed.”

  Finn’s lip quivered, and Mitch couldn’t resist the urge to pull him into his arms. Finn slumped into his hold, shoulders shaking as he obviously tried to get himself together.

  “Sorry,” Finn mumbled. He took a deep breath and stepped back slightly to meet Mitch’s gaze. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, and you’ll hate me for it, but if I could fuck Rocky over, I’d do it in a heartbeat,” he whispered. “If I could bring this club down to its knees, I’d be rejoicing, not commiserating. I wish he was dead.”