His eyes widen a little as though he hadn’t expected that. “Because, four and a half months later, Skull turned up?”
I raise my chin in confirmation.
Rufus copies the gesture back. “Tell me how you found him.”
Mel takes over the story. “If my friend from work, Beth, hadn’t seen him and taken his photo, we might never have known. But she went to Vegas for the weekend and stumbled across him. Pyro and I, along with other members of his club went to see if we could track him down, and we did. That’s when we found out he was nothing I’d believed him to be, and then I lost…” She starts crying.
I get out of my chair, pull her up and hold her tightly.
“That’s all for tonight,” I tell her dad, gruffly, then, even if it is rude, I lead her out of the room without saying anything else to him.
“I don’t give a fuck,” I start, as I take her into the room she’s been allocated, “if your parents want to keep us apart. I’m not leaving you. This evening’s been fuckin’ hard on you.”
“And on you too, Pyro. But we do have to dig it all up. If I’m taking him on, my dad’s interrogation will be nothing in comparison to a defence lawyer.”
That she’s right doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“You didn’t want whisky. Is that in case?”
She gives a tiny nod. “If we’re not going to do anything to prevent it, I want to do this right. From the very start.”
“You did nothing wrong before,” I tell her, willing her to believe it, not wanting her to carry around any guilt. “If the stress contributed to or brought on the miscarriage, then that’s all on Skull, nothing on you.”
“But my reaction…”
“Was the same as any normal person’s, Mel.”
“I just want to be careful, you know?”
I do. I help her undress. Then, in deference to being in her parents’ home and not in my assigned room, I leave on my jeans and, like I have so many times before, do nothing more than lie on the bed and wrap her in my arms.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Melissa
“Sleep well?”
As Mom gives a pointed look to Pyro he replies without missing a beat. “Like a f… baby.”
I hold my breath wondering if she’s going to say anything, reminding myself I’m in my thirties and shouldn’t be scared of my mom knowing what I get up to with my man.
But when she winks at me before turning back to getting breakfast going, I know we probably did exactly what she expected and ended up sharing the same bed.
Biting back my desire to defend myself and tell her we didn’t get up to anything, I ask instead, “Where’s Dad?”
“In his office. He’s been there since early this morning. He wants to see you both when you’re fed.”
Well, that’s the reason we’ve come here. We eat, then waste no time going to the room where Dad’s holed up. There are papers all over the desk which last night was tidy.
“Ah, come in, sit,” he says distractedly after only a brief glance up. “I’ve been doing some research. This is where I’ve got with my thinking.” He removes his glasses, polishes them, then replaces them on his nose. “First, Skull was at the MC as an undercover cop, more likely a federal agent, placed there to unearth criminal activity. By drawing Mel into it, by making her part of the club, he was knowingly involving her in any illegal activity that may have been committed.”
“But there was nothing…”
“Pyro, it’s not what he found, but what he expected to, or could have, found.” Dad gives him a hard stare which makes him shut up.
“Now, he offered an inducement to Melissa.”
“What inducement?” It’s my turn to interrupt.
“The inducement of having a relationship which you were led to believe was serious and long-term. Would you have gone with him otherwise?”
“No,” I say, indignantly. “I wasn’t, and have never been, someone who’d want a fling. Any relationship would need to have at least the potential of being permanent.”
“Exactly. Secondly, the FBI’s own guidelines for their agents say that no undercover activity involving an inducement to an individual to engage in crime shall be authorised unless the subject is engaging, has engaged or is likely to engage in illegal activity.”
Pyro raises his eyes at me.
“Of course,” Dad continues, “their guidelines also say that it is okay if the person is predisposed to engage in the contemplated illegal conduct, which could be their out.”
“Because she’s remained with the club.” Pyro’s quicker than me.
“Yes. Though we will counter that she discovered, as presumably Skull did himself, that the club is not involved in illegal activity. At the time Skull, presumably, believed that it was. Of course, there are exceptions. An innocent can be dragged in if it’s necessary to protect life or prevent other serious harm.”
“That’s not the case.”
“No, I don’t see how that argument could be offered up. Oh, they might try, but I think we’ll be able to refute it. They’d need to offer proof, but I doubt they could find any.”
“So that’s the legal ground? What about what happened to me?” It’s all well and good talking about whether I was potentially being dragged into a life of crime when other things are more important instead. “What about how it affected me mentally? I lost my baby.”
“Hush.” Pyro’s reached for my hand and is now squeezing it. “I don’t think your dad has finished.”
Dad’s eyes view me with a parent’s concern. “That, obviously, sweetheart, is the crux of the case. But first I have to use the lawyer speak to show Skull was acting wrongly. It’s the personal hurt and distress to you which was the damage caused. Now we look at how to measure it.” He pauses, again, and looks at some notes on his desk. “First, if Skull was doing this with the blessing of his handler, then I don’t doubt there will be written reports about you. The first thing I’ll do is demand we get copies of them. That will show how far the invasion of privacy went.”
“And if he didn’t involve his superiors?”
“The rest of our case stands and perhaps is strengthened. Secondly, there was the psychological torture when Skull disappeared. You had no clue he was still alive and went through the process of grieving.”
“Can we go back a step, Dad? Wasn’t it rape? The man I lived with was not who I thought he was.”
“No, beating a dead horse there. Obtaining sexual consent due to having a false identity is not a crime. And feds specifically give immunity from prosecution for their undercover agents for using a false identity. I think we’d waste time and would lose that point.” At my look of disbelief, he continues, “There’s precedent where cases of misrepresentation haven’t even reached the court. Think of the can of worms it would open, a man, or a woman, who portrayed himself as single, but was married—well, if there was a conviction of rape in those cases the prisons would soon be overfilled.”
“Skull was married.”
“Yes. But if that was the sole complaint, would you be reporting him for rape?”
I’d want to slap his face, scream, rant and rage, and accuse him of acting without my consent. Dad’s right. I would not. “So, what do we go on?” I’m not happy I can’t throw that charge at Skull, but Dad knows his stuff, and I’ll have to concede on that point.
“That he used you, an innocent civilian, for a purpose you were not aware of. That he left without a backward glance shows while he tricked you into what you thought was a permanent relationship, he had no such feelings for you. That he took responsibility for protecting you from pregnancy, that he failed in that and again, didn’t check to find out whether or not there were ramifications. There were, and then you lost the baby, possibly due to the stress. I know there’s no medical evidence to support that, but also none against it. If it goes in front of a jury, that’s something that could sway them.”
“I’ve got the DNA results back,” Pyro i
nforms him. “I found Skull’s old toothbrush in the box of his belongings that someone packed up. I’ve sent both results to an expert Demon’s used in the past.”
Of course, we’ve no doubt Skull’s the father, but the court may have.
“So, we can prove whatever he says, it was his baby.”
Was. I blink rapidly to fight back the tears. My son’s true father might have been a bastard, but Pyro would have raised my son well and showed him the rights and wrongs of the world, which don’t include being a cheating liar.
I feel my hand being squeezed. Pyro showing his support yet again.
Dad drums his fingers on the desk. “The initial step is to file a claim with the FBI. They will either agree or dismiss it.”
“If they don’t agree we’ve got a case?”
“Then you can file a lawsuit against the agency and raise a civil suit against them in the United States District Court. Of course, they may not respond, in which case we can go straight to court. We might want to consider a Federal Tort Claim. Section 28 applies as you were injured by the wrongful or negligent act of a federal employee while he was carrying out his official duties.”
“Injured?” I query.
“In this case, mentally. We have to show that, of course. There’s no doubt Skull misused you and went against the FBI rules when he blatantly tried to corrupt you and involve you in, what he believed at the time, was an MC conducting illegal activities.”
Pyro’s eyes narrow. “I’ll need to take this back to the club, sounds like it’s going to involve us.”
Dad purses his lips. “I’ll need a statement, of course, that your club does not run illegal activities. The feds have ninety days from obtaining evidence to make charges against you. That time’s long past, so it’s safe to assume Skull has nothing. If they try to dispute that, we’ll point to Skull being pulled out of his assignment presumably with no results. Now that might seem contradictory, but at the time, there must have been justification for placing him in your club for such a long time.”
“Desperation,” Pyro suggests. “They love bringing what they see as outlaw motorcycle gangs down.” I notice he almost spits out the penultimate word of his sentence.
“Indeed. At the time, Skull was trying to infiltrate what the feds saw was an OMG. A good reminder of their terminology, Pyro. We can emphasise you’re a riding club.”
I’ve just remembered something. “The club worked with the United States Marshals and helped bring a real gang down, when Steph was being kept alive to give evidence against the Warped Jokers. Surely that places them in good standing?”
My dad nods. “Anything like that helps. As does what you said earlier, the Tucson chapter having good relationships with the cops.”
Pyro chuckles. “I wouldn’t say good relationships, but yeah, they helped the cops and feds a couple of times.”
Dad takes off his glasses, and this time, lays them down. “I’ll start preparing the paperwork. This has to be done right, Melissa, so it will take time. I’ve got to prepare you. Probably the best you can hope to get out of it is monetary compensation. Whether they keep Skull on, or dismiss him, will be down to their internal processes. You need to think about how much you want. Cases which ask for one million or less are normally settled quite quickly. We can go for more if you want.”
“That won’t hurt Skull,” I say bluntly, “and money won’t return my lost baby to me.” I wanted to see him locked up. It appears Dad’s warning me that’s unlikely to happen.
My father looks thoughtful. “Let me get it all down on paper and we’ll see where we can go from there. Once I’ve got all the facts straight and have completed more research, we can discuss whether Skull did anything against the law. At the moment, I can see he went against FBI guidelines, so believe all we can do is present that case to them.” He sighs. “I know what you’re thinking, Melissa, and I’d love to be able to lock Skull up behind bars, but we’re going to have a hard enough time getting any reparation as it is.”
Beside me, I see Pyro tense. Then he turns to me and asks, “You sure you want to do this, Mel?”
It doesn’t take me a second to reply, “I’m certain. Fighting is what I need to do. I can’t give up now. I need to know that what he did was wrong. If at the end of the day, the government pays for his crime, at least it’s an admission that what he did wasn’t right. And if I can do something to prevent the same thing happening to anyone else, that’s what I need to do.”
Dad stays buried in his office while Pyro and I catch up with Mom. Later that afternoon we’re back in the car and returning to Pueblo. As Pyro drives I lean my head back and think over the last twenty-four hours. It hadn’t been easy at all, reliving everything, dredging it back up had been distressing. But the result is I’m feeling a little easier. I’m doing something. It might not end up with Skull in prison or even losing his job, but some recognition of the wrong that had been done to me would go a long way. I won’t let him get away unscathed, surely he’ll get a reprimand at the very least?
Am I a cruel person to want to know what’s happening between him and his wife? How she would be able to forgive him is beyond me. She might have been able to turn a blind eye that if it was to keep him alive, he had to go with a club girl to prove he fitted in. But to start a relationship and father a baby? Surely she could never accept that.
I hope she’s making him suffer.
It’s what he deserves.
Nothing will restore the baby which died inside me. But part of my fight is for him and the life he never knew. Although there’s no scientific link between the miscarriage and what Skull had done to me, no one will ever convince me that it wasn’t my distress at his behaviour and how I allowed it to affect me that caused my baby’s heart to stop beating.
What if I’m pregnant again even now?
Nothing could replace the child I lost, but another might fill this emptiness inside me. Pyro’s indicated nothing other than that’s what he wants too. I can’t wait to see his face light up when he sees the sonogram, this time, knowing he’ll have fathered a daughter or son.
For the first time in weeks, I’m returning home with hope, not total despair. Allowing into my mind optimism that a future with a good man will be mine, a family, if we’re lucky, and on top of that, revenge on the man who hurt me so badly.
Who couldn’t agree, when all the facts are known? I’d been used, abused, and discarded. I deserve justice, both for myself and my never-to-be-born child.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Melissa
The wheels of justice grind slowly.
A month has passed. The files have been prepared and submitted, but Dad’s had no news. Pyro’s moved in with me, claimed me officially, and I’m now in possession of a leather vest all of my own, with a Property of Pyro patch on the back. I know most people wouldn’t understand, but it makes me feel loved and protected, this visible symbol that he’s my man.
I don’t even object to the idea of getting a tattoo, not after seeing the beautiful designs Vi does, but as there’s a tiny risk to a pregnant woman, Pyro’s declared we’ll put it off. Despite Lizard’s assurances that he makes hygiene his top priority at the tattoo parlour, and little chance of infection, it will have to wait.
I’m not actually pregnant as yet, but it’s far too soon to be worried, and I have to admit I enjoy the trying.
Am I getting over Skull? No, I never will completely. Pyro is a wonderful man, always taking time to reassure me, but sometimes doubts creep into my mind. I was claimed once before, didn’t stop me from being abandoned.
I tell myself Skull had his own reasons for leaving, that they were nothing to do with me. Thing is though, I know what it’s like to have a man walk out and disappear. In the depths of the night, and sometimes during the day, I worry it might happen again. Then have to take a moment to calm down and remind myself, Pyro and Skull are two completely different men.
When doubts creep in I hate Skull more than ever. Memo
ries of what happened and fear that history will repeat itself is what prevents me fully trusting in my good luck now. Pyro’s arranged for me to have counselling, and I’ve been diagnosed as suffering PTSD. What the counsellor had said made sense, my expectations have been reshaped by my experiences. In simple terms, I’m now always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Pyro’s not in the club when I arrive, I tell myself it’s because he’s at work. A little voice inside worries, he might have left without a trace.
My relief when he turns up makes me angry. I might have the right to doubt myself, but never this man who’s done nothing other than show how much he loves me and how reliable he is.
Damn Skull to hell.
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey back at you, Ro.” I turn to greet the man who reminds me every day how I appear in his eyes. It’s the gleam of appreciation that has convinced me that what I am, he likes.
“You been catching up with the girls?”
“And Max.” I’ve been at the club all evening. I’d popped in to drop off a dessert I’ve made and a fresh batch of muffins and had been dragged into conversation and stayed.
“We’re going to have a fuckin’ dog one of these days, I can tell,” he smiles.
A puppy, yes. I’d love that. One a bit smaller than Steph’s guide dog though, and I doubt we’d have it so well trained. Both Pyro and I would be inclined to spoil it.
“Uh oh, watch out.” Pyro pulls me in front of him as though I’m a shield as Bitch walks past, her back arched and tail held high.
Laughing I swing around. “I’ll never get over how that darn cat has all you big men so scared.”
“I’ve got scars from that darn cat, I’ll have you know,” he replies. “Hey, Beef. Bitch got you yet?”
The VP grimaces and rolls up his sleeve. “Tried to move her so Steph could sit down.”
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