“Skull didn’t have to fuck anyone or could have gone with a club girl if he couldn’t keep it in his pants, or had a relationship and never taken a woman to the club. The club rules do not demand a member fucks, and the brothers don’t question whether a man wants to remain celibate.”
“You’re being very blunt,” Booth notes scathingly. “Is your language because you spend time with bikers?”
“My language is because I thought Skull and I had made love. That our baby came to be as a result of an expression of the emotion we both shared. But to him, it was just fucking. I was used, in circumstances where I wouldn’t have given my consent had I known who he truly was, and certainly if I’d known he had a wife waiting on him.” I pause then cry out, “Have you any idea what that feels like? I’m no cheater, would never have dreamed of going with a man who was already taken. But he made me into the other woman.”
“You sure the baby was his?”
As I gasp in air, the expected question strangely taking me by surprise, Dad passes another piece of paper across. “We used DNA from his toothbrush, but you can redo the test if you want. A DNA sample is also in storage at the hospital where the child was… delivered.”
“When I found out he wasn’t dead, but alive and living with his family, I miscarried.” I tell them what they’ll already know, bluntly. Then again, without giving them a chance to speak or voice their own objection, “Oh, I know mental distress can’t be proven as the cause of the miscarriage, but the timing fits. I found Skull, found out the truth, and… my baby stopped breathing.”
My head falls into my palms. Then, when I raise it and reach for some more water, I spill it as my hands are violently shaking.
“Do you need a moment?” Booth asks, for the first time his eyes lose a little of their hardness.
Dad’s brow is creased, and while it might not be the professional front he wanted to present, he reaches over and lays his hand on top of mine. “You okay?”
I take a deep breath and work on calming myself down. “I’d prefer to get this over with.”
“I take it you’ve seen Ms Martins is suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?” Dad asks to buy me some time. “There’s a report there from the psychologist who’s been treating her. There obviously is no evidence that the stress from Skull’s disappearance then reappearance caused her to miscarry. But it had such an effect that she’s still continuing to suffer the loss of self-esteem and self-confidence, with the result she has heightened anxiety. Those are the facts. What seems irrefutable to any reasonable person is that such distress could have contributed, if not caused, her miscarriage. The effects of the psychological torture imposed on Ms Martins will probably remain with her for life.” He pauses before delivering the punch line. “The psychologist’s report is evidence Agent Jordan failed to protect a civilian from harm. In fact, he inflicted it.”
The agents also take the opportunity to drink some water.
“You have one of the bikers living in your house, Ms Martins,” Forsyth observes, breaking the silence that had fallen.
“How… how do you know that?”
He just raises an eyebrow. Stupid. He’s the FBI. They must have had someone checking me out.
I glance at Dad, he raises his chin, then lowers it again.
“When Skull disappeared, I was distraught. I’d never felt that kind of hurt before. All the brothers stepped up, but Pyro, well, he was like my rock. He was there when I discovered I was pregnant. From that point on, he did what he could to make my life easier.” I swallow, trying to put it into words. “At first it was a duty to the brother who had disappeared. That’s what these bikers do, make sure family is cared for. Being together so much, our relationship changed.”
“I’d like to point out, Ms Martins was essentially a single woman at that point. Her man had gone, and as time passed, he was unlikely to return.”
“So, you started a physical relationship with this… Pyro?”
I shake my head at Forsyth and deny it. “No. Although my feelings changed toward Pyro, I was still carrying the baby of another man. Our relationship didn’t develop that way until after I’d found out the truth about Skull, and after I’d recovered from the miscarriage. I did not hop from one man’s bed to another.”
Booth leans forward. “Part of your case is that Agent Jordan drew you, an innocent woman, into a life of crime. Seems like you didn’t need a lot of encouragement, and after you entered it, you stayed.”
“Objection.” Dad raises his hand. “Skull assumed it was a life of crime as you call it. What Ms Martins discovered was something entirely different. She found a club based around the concept of family. That’s why she stayed, and why Agent Jordan left. He left because he found the premise he’d been working on was false. He clearly found no evidence of wrongdoing.”
“And how do you come to that conclusion?” Booth won’t give up.
“Because there have been no charges.” Dad shifts impatiently as though he shouldn’t need to teach them their jobs. “It’s well over ninety days since the investigation was brought to its abrupt end. As you are aware, any charges must be brought within that time, unless you’re going to insist the investigation is ongoing. In any event, our argument stands. Agent Jordan recruited Ms Martins as he thought she would lead him to what he believed was the truth, and therefore inducted her into the criminal world, or that’s how he saw it at the time.”
Forsyth isn’t giving ground and he proves it when he takes over again. His voice is stern. “And we refute that. Kidnapping is a crime. The Satan’s Devils have a chapter in Vegas do they not?”
What? Oh, shit.
I hope I’m hiding my reaction as he continues. “Agent Jordan has told us his wife was kidnapped,” he looks down at his notes, “by members of the Las Vegas club and also four members of the Pueblo chapter.”
But Dad’s there. “I am unaware of any kidnapping. The man who impregnated Ms Martins and so callously left her had just been found. Of course, she wanted answers. Clare Jordan was invited back to the compound, and Agent Jordan invited to join her. Not a hair on either of their heads was harmed.”
“That’s not how Agent Jordan relates it. No invitation was extended, force was involved.”
“Have you asked Mrs Jordan for her interpretation of the events?”
As Dad asks the question, I hold my breath for the answer, hoping Clare’s stayed true to her word.
There’s silence for a moment, then Forsyth admits, “Mrs Jordan confirms your story, saying she wanted answers herself, but Agent Jordan remains adamant on the point.”
“I suggest Agent Jordan has a vested interest in making the club look bad,” Dad, who I’ve brought up to speed with our visit to Vegas, suggests. “You’ve more witnesses to say otherwise.”
“Are they still together?” I ask. Pyro had suggested we don’t let on I’ve seen her, and it seems a question they’d expect me to ask.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“So there’s nothing to back up this story of kidnapping,” Dad states. “Unless you have evidence, it’s the word of your man against a number of others, including, it would seem, his wife.”
They don’t like it, but don’t contradict him. After a moment the two heads bow together. Then Forsyth looks up. “Please wait here.”
They leave the room.
“How do you think it’s going?” I ask, my eyes watching the closed door.
“You’re telling the truth, Melissa. That’s all we can do.”
I notice my father staring at something, then his eyes go to the recording device which hadn’t been turned off. They’re watching and listening.
Taking his cue, I say nothing more. The clock ticks loudly and counts off the minutes. I know exactly nine of them have passed before the two agents return.
They don’t bother taking their seats.
“Thank you very much for coming in, Ms Martins, Mr Martins. We will consider what you hav
e told us today and give you our written response as soon as we can.”
“Just before we leave,” Dad doesn’t yet stand, “I have requested all documentation and any photographic evidence you might have which refers to or shows Ms Martins. I trust that will be delivered to my office without delay.”
Again, they exchange looks. I’d say they look uneasy. After a few seconds have passed, Forsyth nods his head. “Of course, Mr Martins.”
They’re obviously waiting to escort us out of the building.
Pyro’s out front. “How did it go?” His anxious eyes flick from me to Dad.
I make a seesawing gesture with my hand. “Hard to tell.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Pyro
Mel looks like she’s been put through the wringer. I’ve been questioned by the cops before—what biker hasn’t?—so I know how challenging that can be. The police get you going around in circles and try to trip you up and make you contradict yourself.
“Let’s get you home.”
“We’ll meet you there,” I tell her father.
We’ve arranged to stay with her parents overnight and head back in the morning. I think both Rufus and I knew exactly how hard this would be for her. We knew she would be dredging everything up in front of people who don’t want to believe her.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, as I drive behind Rufus’ car.
“They tried to make something of the fact you and I have a relationship.” Her voice is quiet. “They kept calling your club a gang.”
“Because that’s how they think of us, darlin’. It isn’t right, but there you go. That’s what we’re always up against. In their world they consider us the same as any criminal gang.”
“That’s not fair.”
I smile at her objection. “It is what it is, darlin’.”
Flicking the indicator, I make a right turn, then pull the car up behind Rufus’ on the driveway. Before I’ve turned the engine off, her mom has opened the front door and is looking out anxiously. I notice her face relaxes slightly when Mel steps out of the car. I think she might have suspected she’d be in tears, and to be honest, that wouldn’t have surprised me either. She’s just had everything bad that’s happened to her exposed and dissected, and I’d be astonished if the feds hadn’t tried to discredit her.
But I’m not going to interrogate her, she’s had enough of that for one day. Instead, I’ll talk to her dad.
As Mel disappears into the house with her mom, I turn to Rufus. But he anticipates my question without me having to put it into words.
“We’ll talk in my study.”
I trail behind him, unsurprised his first action is to pour two whiskeys. He downs half of his in one go.
Then raises his eyebrow when he sees me watching. “I know I’ve heard it all before, but hearing it again today? Fucking hard.”
It’s the first time I’ve heard him swear.
“Mel cope okay?”
“Solid as a rock. They couldn’t shake her.”
I sit down and take a sip of my own drink. “How do you read it?”
His shoulders rise and fall. “They’re trying to wriggle out of it, of course. Will try to protect one of their own. They did bring up the kidnapping.”
I sit forward sharply. “What did they say?”
“That Skull’s wife wasn’t confirming his story. It’s Skull’s word against everyone else.”
Good on Red for keeping tabs on her and offering his support. Both women had been used by the same man. Though she’d been scared at the time, if Clare hadn’t been brought to the Vegas compound and seen Mel, and witnessed her husband’s reaction, she’d never have known about his deceit. He’d have continued going undercover for months or years at a time and could have been with any number of women while she sat at home waiting.
We discuss what the FBI agents had said and Rufus’ impressions for a while, then our conversation peters out.
“Well, let’s go and join the women.”
“Sir, could I ask you something?” I’ve been waiting for the right moment. I’m not totally sure this is it, but I’ll take my chance. For some reason, I feel strangely nervous. At Rufus’ nod, I swallow. “I’d like your permission to ask your daughter to marry me.”
I hold my breath. Of course, if he says no, she’s a grown woman and can make up her own mind. I don’t really need his go ahead, but after the way Skull treated her, I want to do everything right. And that means trying to get her family on board with our relationship.
I’ve shocked Rufus. For a moment his face is unreadable, and it dawns on me, having a biker in the family might not be what he wants or hoped for his daughter. As I watch him, trying to gauge his reaction, his lips suddenly curve.
He holds out his hand, I take it. Instead of shaking it as I expect, he lays his other on top. “Pyro, I couldn’t have chosen a better man for my daughter. You’ve stood by her through thick and thin. I know you’ll never do anything to hurt her.” His eyes appear to water. “Even now, you’re doing things right. You have my blessing, and I know I speak for Angela too.”
I feel choked up myself.
Now we do shake hands, and, as neither of us are capable of speaking, we leave his study.
Mel and her mom are in the kitchen, sorting out food. Mel’s chuckling, and I’m pleased to see she’s coping after the interrogation she went through today. Suddenly the ring I have ready is burning a hole in my pocket. My plan had been to take her out to a swanky place and do everything properly, but nothing seems more right than sharing this moment with the other people who love her.
There, in the kitchen, in the space between the sink and the cooker, I lower myself onto one knee in front of her and take her hand.
As she looks down, her brow furrowed in confusion, I take a deep breath and ask, “Melissa Martins, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
My other hand holds tight to the ring box in my pocket.
Mel stares down.
“For goodness’ sake, Melissa. Put the poor man out of his misery.” Rufus chuckles, making her start as if she hadn’t realised she was supposed to reply.
“Yes.” The word sounds shaky. She says it again, her voice getting firmer with each repetition, “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.”
I stand and slip the top of the box open, showing her the diamond ring inside. Big enough to impress, not too big to be ostentatious. “Will this do?”
She’s still as a statue as I slip the ring on her finger. Fuck me, I estimated well, it’s a perfect fit. The moment almost as good as when I gave my property patch to her.
Then she’s in my arms, and our mouths meet in a passionate display that's probably not appropriate in front of her parents.
Beside us her mom squeals and claps her hands. “Oh my! We’ve got a wedding to plan!”
I hadn’t thought as far as that. But now she’s said it, and the glow in Mel’s face as she turns to show the ring to her mother let me know that this is a good way of moving on from everything that’s happened.
The shit’s not over, I know that. But we can concentrate more on our future, and less on our past.
As Mel and her mom start talking a mile a minute, already discussing things like dresses, bridesmaids and cakes, Rufus’ hand rests on my shoulder.
As he leans in, he says quietly, “They needed this.”
“We all did,” I correct.
The next day we return to Pueblo. The main topic of conversation, particularly among the women, changes from Skull’s betrayal to planning a wedding.
Days pass, then turn into weeks. Mel and I settle into a routine that’s comfortable for us both. We find a four-bedroom house we both fall in love with and start the process of making it ours.
Having been determined to find the source of a rattle in a relatively new engine, I’d been delayed at work. When I come home, it’s to find Mel sitting in the dark.
I switch on the light, quickly noticing her face is streaked with tears.
“Darlin’?”
She wastes no time in telling me, “The FBI have dismissed my complaint. Oh, they wrapped it up in legalese, but the essence of it is, they can find no evidence of wrongdoing on their agent’s behalf.”
I close my eyes. It’s exactly what I had feared, that they’d circle the wagons to protect their own. “What happens now?” I know Rufus won’t let it drop.
“He’s submitting a claim under the Federal Tort Claims Act.”
This I know, as we’ve already discussed, could result in her being awarded punitive damages, but won’t have any effect on what happens to Skull. It seems he’s going to escape without any disciplinary action.
“There’s more,” she continues. “With the letter, Dad received a file full of documents and photos. Skull was writing up every conversation I’d reported to him. Even Theo’s fucking teething problems. He documented everything—except for the fact several of those conversations were after sex.” She sneers as she says the last. “There were also photos of me with you, me with Vi, me with Demon… at the barbeque, or just in the club. He must have been taking photos all the time, and nobody noticed.”
We’re always on our phones, it’s just the way of the world nowadays. I can’t remember if Skull had his out more often than anyone else, but if he had, we probably wouldn’t have thought much about it.
“Dad said it was an invasion of my personal privacy. I wasn’t the one being investigated. My God, Ro. Did he expect me to incriminate myself, pick up a gun and shoot someone?”
“I’ve no fuckin’ idea.” I realise I’m too far away from her. Crossing the room, I sit beside her and pull her into my arms. “Skull was getting desperate. He’d gotten no results. He was probably taking tons of images hoping to pour over them and find something he could use. Same with the documents.”
“Dad has asked for nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand dollars, Ro. He said if it’s under a million cases can get settled reasonably fast. My baby’s life is worth one dollar under a million.”
Satan’s Devils MC -Colorado Box Set: Books 4-6 Page 35
