by Eliza Marsh
“You and I both know none of that would stick.”
“Maybe not,” she replied with a shrug. “But this lady is a shark, and she would create enough of a mess that your investigation would be on hold while the Bureau was forced to look into the allegations.”
They stared at each other for a few moments, Jackie hoping he would believe the threat and get out of dodge before Dean got here to make things worse. In hindsight, she probably should have tried Nash instead, his calm under pressure a valuable trait. But instinct, when faced with a tough situation, had her reaching out for Dean.
Diaz finally broke eye contact, glancing back at his partner, who still hadn’t said a word. “Fine, have it your way. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when all of this comes out.”
“I’ll be sure to send you a thank you card for the heads up,” she replied with a plastic smile. “If you’ll excuse me.” With that, she slammed the door closed, immediately regretting it as Oliver stirred in his crib. “What an asshole,” she muttered to herself as she headed to hush the baby.
Not five minutes later, Dean came barreling into the apartment, Ian hot on his heels either as backup for a fight or to help keep the situation calm. She wasn’t really sure.
“Are you okay?” Dean asked in concern as he walked up to where she was holding the baby by the crib and cupped her face gently. “What happened?”
“Everything is fine,” she replied, smiling at the outpouring of love and worry on his face. “We’re both fine, Oliver slept right through it. They just asked about the car thefts, wanted to know what I know. Which, as I told them, is nothing.”
He eyed her carefully, looking for any signs of distress or that she was omitting something vital. “That’s it? And they just left?”
Jackie shrugged, trying to choose her words carefully to avoid any unnecessary explosion from him. “He threatened to send you all to jail for life and put me in a cell for being an accomplice. But I took Nash’s advice, told him we had a lawyer that would end his career, and he backed off.”
“He threatened to arrest you?” he asked darkly, running a hand through his hair roughly. So much for his relaxed mood. “They’ve got nothing on you.”
“I know, it’s fine,” Jackie said calmly, casually handing Oliver off to Ian as the baby began to get fussy at his father’s tone. She placed a hand on Dean’s arm as he began to pace. “They don’t have anything on anybody, or else they wouldn’t have shown up here-”
“They shouldn’t have been here in the first place,” Dean growled in response, infuriated that the federal agents had shown up at his door to threaten his family. He looked down at her, his face full of mixed emotions - anger, worry, affection. “You should never have been dragged into this.”
“It’s okay-”
“It’s not okay!” His nostrils flared as he tried to control his temper. “These fuckers threatened you and my child. I don’t want them anywhere near you.”
She wrapped her arms around his torso, keeping her eyes on his. “I’m with you. Where you go, I go. Except for jail, of course.”
Ian’s barking laugh broke the emotional moment as he stood off to the side with Oliver, trying not to intrude. “Y’all are adorable. Would you like your baby back? I don’t think he likes me.”
24
“You are just the sweetest young man, Ian.”
“Only because you’re my favorite, Mrs. Fleming,” he replied with a flirtatious grin as she finished signing the receipt for the services on her car. He offered her an arm as the elderly woman grabbed her purse. “Allow me to escort you to your car, ma’am.”
She visibly swooned at the heavy southern charm, muttering a quick ‘oh my’ to herself as she wrapped her frail arm around his lean, muscled one. The pair sauntered out the front door of the garage's office, heading towards her old Lincoln parked in the front. He had spent all morning doing simple fixes - oil change, tire rotation, windshield wiper replacement, and the like. But he took extra care on her car because she had been his fourth-grade teacher nearly two decades prior, putting up with many of his childish shenanigans.
“You take care driving home,” Ian said politely, helping her settle into the driver’s seat of her car before closing the door and giving her a wave and one last flash of pearly whites. He took a few steps back, giving her plenty of space to back out of the parking spot. His eyes floated after the car, landing on a different vehicle parked across the street.
“Oh, what the shit?” he asked rhetorically, eyeing the dark purple motorcycle and the man sporting colors sitting astride it. “Yo, Mack!” Calling to the man in the garage bay nearest him had the bike's rider startled by the sudden attention he had gained. Mack walked up just as the motorcycle sped off down the road, smoke burning under the speed of the tires.
“The hell was that?” he asked, his brows furrowed at the strange occurrence.
Ian crossed his arms over his chest, a grimace marring his otherwise pretty features. “Sure looked a lot like the Saints staking out our clubhouse.”
“Fuck.”
Their conversation paused as an old, gold sedan came rolling into the garage’s parking lot and stopped right in front of the office. The car parked, and a tall man in a button-up shirt got out, a large folder of papers in his hand.
“Now what?” Ian muttered, knowing this guy couldn’t want anything good.
“Afternoon,” the man said diplomatically, stopping a few feet from them. “My name is Chad Grundwick, and I’m here to conduct the annual audit for your insurance and paperwork. Are either of you the business owner?”
Ian rolled his eyes dramatically and huffed out a big sigh. “I’ll go get Luke,” he muttered to Mack, heading towards the clubhouse in search of the club president and official garage owner.
Mack slipped his hands into the pockets of his gray cargo pants, staring at the man questioningly. “We got our annual audit six months ago.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know anything about that. I’m just answering a work order to complete the audit. Is the office this way?”
The man walked off, already scribbling onto his notepad, forcing Mack to follow after him with a curse. Audits weren’t exactly their specialty since paperwork and filing were not at the top of any of their to-do lists. They had barely passed the last review if he remembered correctly, so he hoped somebody had tidied up since then.
Entering the office, Mack ran a hand over his short hair nervously as the inspector invited himself behind the counter to access the filing cabinets. “May I?” he asked, even though he had already pulled open a drawer to browse the client paperwork it contained.
“Go right ahead,” Mack muttered, looking through the large glass door into the garage bays and making eye contact with Elijah. The man made a questioning face as Mack gestured to the stranger and mouthed, “Inspector.”
Wandering into the office, Elijah made a beeline towards the auditor with his hand extended and a warm smile on his face. “Hi there, I’m Elijah, the Office Manager. I made it my project after the last audit to get everything completely above board, so let me know if you need anything.”
Chad stared back at him suspiciously as he shook the biker’s hand. “Yes, well, where is the credit card information? It has to be-”
“Locked in a secure cabinet, it’s in the office here.” Elijah directed him to the small room behind the counter where the important things were kept. Gesturing to a locked drawer, Elijah opened it with a key from the ring on his belt loop. “Only three keys open this, and it stays locked at all times.”
“And what about signed liability waivers-”
“Hard copies are in the client’s folder, all dated appropriately, and copies are saved to the computer as well for backup.”
The inspector blinked in disbelief, not expecting everything to be up to code in a place like this. “Well… I still need to check everything else, so I’ll need full access.”
Elijah smiled again, handing over his keys with a smu
g gleam in his eyes. “Absolutely, shout if you need anything.” With that, he exited the back office and headed to stand with Mack.
“When did you do all this?” Mack asked with an impressed smile, keeping an eye on the inspector just in case.
“Figured when the feds left here empty-handed that all kinds of officials would be stopping by to inspect the place. Had Charlotte come give me a hand.”
Barking with laughter, Mack nodded his head. “I thought this had the feds’ name written all over it. I vividly remember the last audit that we almost failed, and it wasn’t too long ago.”
“Desperate assholes,” Elijah replied as the pair continued to watch the stranger as he rifled through their paperwork. “Better do a thorough overhaul in the garage, too, just in case the guys from Health and Safety show up suddenly.”
Rolling his eyes, Mack sighed as he thought of all the work that would require. “Looks like it’ll be a fun afternoon then. I’ll get started on that while you babysit.”
25
He sat on his motorcycle in the parking lot of the Watering Hole, leg bouncing up and down erratically with excess energy. He had decided to come alone this time, hadn’t mentioned it to Nash or Murphy knowing they would protest. Sure, cage fighting seemed to be a useful hobby for him. But only when he had a babysitter, someone to keep a leash on him just in case.
But he needed to get out, get away from everyone. He just needed a few hours to blow off some steam and not deal with anyone, even his best friends. They meant well, but sometimes just made him feel worse, made him feel more out of touch with his reality.
Everything was too much.
As soon as he had started to get a handle on having a child, more things decided to pile up on him. The Dead Saints had been wreaking havoc in nearby territories, causing the Kings’ car thefts to come to a slow crawl as federal agents took an interest in the crime spree. A small number of cars meant a small paycheck for the crew, and with a family to support, it wasn’t cutting it. Having Jackie back at work only made him feel worse, knowing he couldn’t financially take care of his child the way he wanted to without assistance from her. It was a massive blow to his ego, fueled by a never-ending uncertainty with raising Oliver.
And the Feds.
They had dared to show up at his house, question his lady, threaten her, while Oliver slept feet away. The last thing he wanted was for the well-being of his son to be put into question, to have them take away his child. Jackie would never forgive him. He would never forgive himself.
Pulling the tiny plastic bag from his pocket, Dean stared at it momentarily as he weighed the pros and cons. The remainder of his rational mind couldn’t present a valid case, so he huffed out a breath and surveyed his surroundings. When he deemed that nobody of importance was watching, he poured a small amount of the white powder onto the back of his hand and quickly inhaled it.
The effects were immediate, his head tilting back and a satisfied grin forming on his face as the heroin hit his system. An overwhelming feeling of relief encompassed him, followed quickly by an intense need to move, to do something.
The metal door slammed haphazardly against the wall as Dean shoved his way into the crowded bar, the din of rowdy fight fans roaring in his ears. He cracked his neck viciously, clenching his fists in barely-controlled energy as his body itched to be in the cage. Marching towards the night’s fight organizer, he tossed down the fifty dollar entry fee and glared at the man, who chuckled and wrote Dean’s name on the clipboard containing the roster.
“You just can’t get enough, can you?” the guy asked with a grin, shaking his head. “You made it just in time. You’ll be in the last entry round. Match after next.”
Dean nodded and turned towards the bar, eager to add a few drinks to the cocaine buzz he already had. The crowd parted, as even in a place like this, his intimidating presence radiated around him. It was hard for a guy his size to be inconspicuous even on the best of days.
He had to stand at the bar only a minute before a bartender approached him and quickly acquired his order of two tequila shots and a beer. Downing the small glasses one after the other, Dean grabbed the beer bottled and sulked off to a table in the corner to wait for his match to start.
But sitting alone with his thoughts didn’t help him, the nagging feelings of failure and inadequacy creeping into his foggy brain. They wouldn’t go away, wouldn’t leave him alone. Dean flagged down a nearby waitress, requesting more tequila even though he knew it was a terrible idea. He should never have come, knew tonight was going to get out of hand without someone there to keep him in check. He was just not in the right state of mind to be able to handle himself.
The waitress came back with two glasses of tequila and sat them down just as the ring announcer called for his match. Dean tossed back the amber liquid from both drinks quickly. The waitress gave him a wary gaze and looked around for the two friends that generally tagged along with the large man. She was concerned to find neither of them present.
Dean threw a few bills on her tray and muttered his thanks before stalking off to the cage. His shaggy dark hair kept falling into his eyes, not long enough to tie back, but still long enough to be a menace. Shedding his leather jacket, he tossed it on the floor by the stairs leading up to the ring and waited to be given entry. By now, he knew the routine quite well, as the boys had made the trek down to the bar just north of Macon several times in the last few weeks.
The official motioned for him to enter as the organizer announced his name over the loudspeaker to a chorus of jeers. The crowd had yet to warm to him, probably because he always beat up their favorite fighters. Of the four fight nights he’d participated in, he’d been crowned champion three times. The fourth was only a loss on the technicality that he’d had to bail half-way into the tournament when Luke had called to end their fun early.
His opponent for the night entered after him, the crowd giving him a lackluster applause as he seemed to be new to the fight scene. Dean didn’t recognize him from past nights at the very least. The man was a decent size but looked a bit rattled at the idea of facing such a large opponent in the first round.
Dean was very unimpressed and also not in the mood for such an easy contest. They might as well give him a pass straight to the last few rounds and not waste his time with these pathetic fights. He wanted a challenge, a real workout to test his skills on.
Rolling his eyes as the bell rang, Dean would usually let his opponent initiate the fight and throw a few punches to get a better understanding of his weaknesses. Heroin and tequila had other ideas, though, so Dean took a few long strides forward and slammed his fist into the man’s face. He hit the mat with a loud thud, earning a sympathetic exclamation from the crowd. When his eyes remained closed after a few seconds, the official ran over and quickly announced Dean as the winner of the match via knockout.
Avoiding the referee as he tried to raise his arm in triumph, Dean huffed out a frustrated breath and exited the cage. The crowd was uncharacteristically quiet as he grabbed his jacket from the floor and headed back to his table in the corner to await the next round.
He could only hope that the next guy lasted longer than six seconds.
26
“Can I run something by you?”
“Oh my God, are you leaving Dean?”
Jackie turned, confusion on her face. “What? No, of course not.”
“Oh.” Charlotte’s face fell, though she hadn’t really expected that to be what Jackie wanted to talk about. “Well, that’s less exciting. But yes, go right ahead, run it by me.”
Jackie and Charlotte had become fast friends after the pair had finally met. They were both in their late twenties, with young sons and bikers for husbands, so they had plenty in common. They could also talk to each other about how to deal with club issues. TJ was the only other married biker, and his wife stayed far away from anything to do with the club, so that left Jackie and Charlotte on their own in the world full of men.
C
harlotte had become a recent lifesaver in more ways than one for Jackie. She thought she would be able to handle having Oliver and a job at the same time, but it had quickly become too much. And with Dean not willing to take many shifts watching the baby, Jackie had needed someone to babysit if she wanted to continue making money.
Because the world had decided to show her some mercy, Charlotte appeared like an angel and happily offered to take Oliver off her hands when needed. She was currently a stay-at-home mom with her son, Logan, and would also take care of a young neighborhood girl a few times a week to earn some cash on the side. Jackie had insisted she pay for the services as well, despite Charlotte’s repeated attempts to assure her she didn’t mind.
Then one night, when Jackie got off late and the husbands had yet to return from their outing, the two women had sat at the kitchen table and finished an entire bottle of wine as their children slept. They had been good friends ever since, so Jackie felt she could bring up her crazy idea to her new companion and get some honest feedback.
“So, I told you the owner of the diner I work at is ill, and her son wants to sell the place, right?” Charlotte nodded in confirmation, and Jackie looked at the child’s toy in her hand that she had been fiddling with. “I’ve been thinking… I want to buy the place.”
Charlotte raised her brows, not judgemental, but questioning. “Buy the diner? Could you do that?”
“I mean, I don’t have the cash on hand. I’d have to see if Dean has some stashed and then see if the bank will cover the rest. It’s a long shot, but…”
“But it’s a big risk.”
“Yeah, definitely. There are a million ways it could go wrong. I’ve never run a business before.”
“But…” Charlotte looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.
