How could they bring her here after what she just went through? I swear if something happens to her. . . I pause my thoughts, realizing that something already has happened to her. And it started with me.
My question gets ignored, but what else did I expect? Dickface is only concerned about wrapping his case up, the quicker, the better. And he proves it by opening his mouth. “I’ll cut right to the chase. Eight people from your club are dead, possibly nine, and another eight have been arrested, your father included.”
I study him while I process the information. He must see the disbelief because he pulls out another folder, opens it, and he shoves it my way. I look down at pictures of a dead Tazer, JJ, Garvyn, and a bunch of others. Is it wrong to feel nothing about this? Let me take that back. Is it wrong to feel relieved that I’m not in that folder?
I push the pictures back to him. “Just get to the point.”
“What do you know about Marcus ‘The Hammer’ Henderson? Specifically, his involvement with child sex trafficking?”
Ryu
I blink a few times. Marcus? “Is that seriously why you brought me down here? Because you think I have some sort of inside information?” I shake my head and laugh at how stupid this is.
“Just answer the fucking question,” he growls.
“Nothing more than what you know, I’m sure. I’m the wrong person to talk to about this. What, you think because my father is the Pres that makes me useful by proxy? Fuck, man, you don’t know shit.”
His eyes narrow, lips pulling tight at the corners. “Tell me what you know, and I’ll see what I can offer in return. You think Ace is the only one who knows about your girlfriend? Or that he set it up to make it look like you and her orchestrated the hit on your father? Didn’t know that part, did you? Oh wait, that’s right, you’ve been trying to protect her, but all you’ve done is drag her right into the middle of this shit and left her wide open.” I can’t help my eyes pulling into slits at his threat. “It’s amazing what information is useful when the unsuspecting parties don’t know they’re being recorded.”
I dart up again, the chair falling over behind me. I grind my teeth, hands fisted at my sides. The twins rush back over, but he tells them to stand down. “You. Leave. Her. Alone,” I snap. My chest is heaving, and the control I’m trying to keep is whittling away. They’ve been listening to us, invading private moments between me and her, and now the thought of something happening to Poppy because of me. . .goddammit!
His pleased grin with my outburst has me almost launching over the table. But then I remember the leash. “Play nice and I will.” He pulls out another folder and slides it to me. “Open it.”
I hesitate but do as asked, not knowing if I'm going to find pictures of Poppy in there or not. What I see though has my stomach rolling. “Sick, isn't it?” I don't dare open my mouth as a wave of nausea sweeps through me. I shove the file back at him, pick my chair up then sit back down.
“What do you want from me?” I ask once my stomach settles a bit.
“First, tell me what you know about Marcus.”
“I know he’s the new Pres of the Legion MC Tennessee Chapter. Got out of jail some years back and worked his way up. Rumor has it, he earned his name by killing someone with a hammer. Other than that, I. Don’t. Know. Shit. My father doesn’t even speak directly to him that I’m aware of.”
He cocks a brow like he doesn’t believe me. I lift mine in response. I said everything I knew about the guy. The man’s somewhat elusive, at least to us. He makes one of his officers do his bidding for him. I assumed it was because we were nothing but a nuisance to him, just one more responsibility that he doesn’t want. But disbanding the Fallen is not something he has the authority to do. Basically, he’s stuck unless he’s no longer Pres.
“Man, I’ve told you everything I know. I don’t care about the club. If you’ve really bugged my place, then you should know I want out. I’m done with them—this life.” I throw my hands out as far as they will go, showing him I’ve got nothing left to offer or hide for that matter.
He folds his hands together and lays them on the table. He rubs a hand down his face, exhaustion and irritation are like a permanent fixture on his face. “You’ve seen the pictures. This is the shit Marcus is orchestrating.”
“But that’s got nothing to do with me. So, unless you tell me why I’m here, arrest me or let me go. I’ve given you all I have on this subject.”
He slides one more folder across the table but leaves his hand on it. “In this folder is my offer. A clean slate for you. Juvie record sealed and adult record wiped clean.”
I can’t help it; I roll my eyes. “What of Ace, and why the hell would the Feds erase my record? Sounds to me like you don’t have enough to get Marcus on your own, so you're looking at me like I’m the answer to your prayers, am I right?”
“You help us, and all I have to do is submit this back to the Judge who’s already signed it, pending your cooperation, of course. And don’t worry about Ace.” He lifts his hand, and all I can do is stare at the yellow folder. If he’s serious, then I basically get to start over with my life. No longer having to live with restrictions placed on me and society would be none the wiser. I’d be. . .free. I could be with Poppy without destroying her in the process—if she’d still have me after tonight.
I grab the folder and flip it open. Sure enough, there is a signed judgment from a Judge Grady dated four days ago. At the bottom is the caveat that must be fulfilled for this to become official. Grabbing the paper, I hold it in my hands, half tempted to smell it just so I can say I know what complete freedom smells like.
I scrutinize him, fucker knows he basically has me but the conditions of what exactly I’ll have to do haven’t been discussed yet. My pulse increases with excitement from the gift being offered but also with apprehension over what part I’ll be playing in all this. I put the paper back in the folder and push it to him.
“I’m not agreeing to shit ‘til I hear what grand idea you’ve come up with.”
“I knew you were a smart man,” he chides, tapping his fingers on the table. He pauses like he’s formulating the right words that will hook me. I shift in my seat, a feeling of unease raising the hairs on the back of my neck. I know that whatever’s about to come out of his mouth, I’m not going to like.
“You’re going to become the president of Legion’s Fallen.”
I burst out laughing. “Holy shit, man.” I can't breathe I’m laughing so hard.
His lip curls into a snarl. “This isn’t a fucking joke.”
“Please, elaborate. This oughta be good.”
“We’re working on a hunch that Marcus is the one who put the hit on Ghost. And seeing as how the Fallen’s current Pres is being processed and is looking at a long, comfortable stay behind concrete walls, along with his only remaining officer, the slots will need to be filled.”
“What part of ‘I want out’ do you not get? Why would Marcus want Ghost dead? And how does me becoming Pres help you get to Marcus? So far, you’ve given me nothing that makes me wanna say yes to that slip of paper.”
Bold statement I’m making, but it needs to be said. I’m risking a chance at a new life with every word that slides off my tongue. He taps his fingers on the table again, his lips pursing like he wants to spill everything but knows he can’t. Too bad. He wants to dangle that carrot in my face, he’ll need to give me more. Then again, if I don’t agree to his terms, he’ll just throw me in jail, adding one more tick to my growing criminal record. But I get the feeling that I’m like the last resort.
“There’s a case building against Marcus, but we need proof that he’s involved. Those pictures of the young girls are barely a fraction of the shit we’ve uncovered. A task force has been working on this for a while, and so far we’ve busted a few ring leaders, some in Legion MCs further down south and a couple outside, but they won’t roll on Marcus.”
He leans forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Since Marcus
became Pres, he’s shown a special interest in the Fallen, more so than any previous Pres. He’s been keeping a close watch, even extending deals to some of the members in exchange for information. That’s why we started monitoring your club. That’s also how we knew about the runs going down tonight and a group of Fallen banding together to take out your father under the orders of Ace, but he’s not the mastermind—it’s Marcus.”
I think back over the last few months. There were several instances, including the one at Barns’ shop where Ace insisted on coming along, claiming he didn’t trust anyone to do the job right.
“We know that Marcus wants the Fallen in Tennessee. We need you to become Pres and get close to Marcus, or at the very least, his officers.”
“Hell, is there anyone left in the club who isn't sitting in jail? And it’s not like I can walk in there and claim the spot. If Ace was setting me up, who's to say I won’t be shot dead on sight? And this shit is voted on. If they think I’m a rat, they ain’t making me Pres. The officer spots need filling, too, and you can’t expect me to work with you while being Pres and keeping this shit from people who are supposed to be my right hand. How the fuck is this going to work?”
He smiles. “Way ahead of you.” He stands up and walks to the guy with a scowl on his face.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” I scoff.
“This here’s Phoenix, and that’s,” he points across the room, “Jaguar.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not going to happen. Neither of them look like they belong in the Fallen—they have no history of membership with Legion, anywhere. Maybe the one who looks pissed at the world. But him,” I point to the other twin, Jaguar, “he looks like he should be chugging beers with his bros at a frat house.”
“Hey, man. . .thanks,” Jaguar beams, showing me all his teeth. Jeez, what a fucking tool.
I ignore him and focus back on Special Agent Cameron. “Ok, let me get this straight. You want me to waltz back into the club and convince them to make me Pres. Then you want me to randomly bring in these two dipshits and make them officers? It doesn’t fucking work like that. Everyone in the Fallen comes from a Legion MC. They’ve got a story, a reason why they were downgraded in status. A criminal record for starters. So, what, you’re just going to make some shit up? And won’t the timing be suspicious?”
I swear to god this guy hasn't thought a single thing through. He may as well arrest me right now. This shit is never going to work.
“Why don’t you leave the details to us.” Dickface walks to the table and lays the folder with my free pass located inside back in front of me. “Do you really think you can leave and start a life elsewhere with your background haunting you everywhere you go? I know you want to go to school. Do you think they’re going to accept a convicted criminal into their program? And what about a job? How many places are willing to hire a felon? And then there’s the girl. Does she deserve to have a loser for a boyfriend, dragging her into shit like tonight?”
He leans down so he’s at eye level with me. “Think about it. Your girl going out and making something of herself while you get to sit and watch, knowing you’ll never be good enough for her. How long do you think you can play house before you start resenting her and pushing her away? I’m offering you a chance at redemption, a chance at a better life. You walk out of here today and the deal’s off the table. Your choice. What’s it going to be?”
Poppy
My legs are weak, and my feet feel full of lead as I make my way through the FBI office. The glare of the lights hurts my tired, cried-out eyes. The musty and dreary atmosphere of the space only brings my spirits down more. How anyone can work here with its light grey walls and white laminate floors is beyond me. It feels like a prison, the cubicles the cells you’re caged in.
“This way.”
The officer navigates me into a room blander than the area I was just in. There is a metal table and two chairs. The interrogation rooms at work are cozier than this. Not that one should feel comfortable being interrogated, but at least it’s better than feeling like a piece of trash.
“Please, sit.”
I all but fall into the chair, adjusting when the cool metal hits the back of my legs. My muscles relax again now that I’m seated once more. The ride over here was long, and when I went to get out of the car, I winced at the discomfort. I pull the blanket they gave me around my shoulders more to block out the chill in the air. This place is as cold as a hospital—looks-wise and temperature.
I glance around, wondering if Ryu is in a similar type of room. I saw a glimpse of him entering the building when we pulled up. My heart aches thinking about him. What are they doing to him? Is he ok? Why am I not running for the hills, putting as much distance between us as I can?
The entire ride here, I was plagued with doubts, and every time a new one crept up, I made up some sorry ass excuse to justify it. I must be really fucked in the head if I’m trying to convince myself that he is still good for me. What I witnessed tonight paints him and the world he lives in, in a different light.
I could’ve died tonight.
He could’ve died tonight.
This isn’t what I signed up for.
The rage burning in his eyes when they pulled him off Ace had me taking a step back. I’ve never seen someone with their features distorted like that. There was always this dark part of him that I knew existed, and I got a front-row seat to it tonight. If Ace lives after the beating Ryu gave him, I’d be surprised.
But why does my heart still want him?
“Ms. Whitley, are you ready to get started?”
I nod. No point in dragging this out. I practically begged them to bring me here. They were going to question me at some point. They wanted me to go to the hospital, but I refused, saying I needed to tell them what happened while it was fresh in my mind, not that I’d ever forget this night.
“My name is Special Agent Robinson. I’ll be conducting your interview. Can you please state your full name for the record?”
Hazel eyes regard me with sympathy. I grip the blanket tighter around me, using it as a shield against him. I don’t need or want his pity. I already know how I look, how this whole situation looks. To him, I’m just another young girl in love with the bad boy who got caught up in his bullshit.
“Poppy Leighanne Whitley.”
“Walk me through what happened.”
I cast my eyes over his head, staring at a spot on the wall while memories of Ace come flooding to the front of my mind. Him hoping in my car, the gun pressed to my head, being tossed on the ground, tied to a post, his filthy hands running over my body.
I squeeze my eyes shut, already feeling tears prick the corners. It’s amazing that I even have enough fluid still in my body to produce tears. “I. . .uh. . .” The words are trying to form, but I can still feel his touch on my skin. Acid burns the back of my throat, and I dart up, scanning the room for a trash can. Special Agent Robinson notices and rushes to bring one to me.
I fall to my knees and empty out the contents of my stomach but keep going to the point that I’m dry heaving. I hear the door and the agent calling for a bottle of water and tissues. He leans down next to me and gently places his hand on my back. The sudden foreign touch has my body recoiling, and I scramble across the floor.
“I’m sorry,” we both say at the same time, wearing the same surprise on our faces.
“I apologize, Ms. Whitely. You looked like you were about to fall over.” His face is drawn in, and it makes me feel worse because he was only trying to help. I stand up, a flush creeping to my cheeks.
“Don’t worry about it.” I give him a small smile, and even that was hard to do.
The door opens, and Special Agent Robinson is handed the items he requested. He places them on the table then takes a few steps back, giving me more than enough space. I move over to the table and grab the water, taking a sip and swishing it around in my mouth before spitting it out in the trash. I use the tissues to wipe my mouth th
en sit back in the chair.
He eyeballs me a bit longer, like he’s double and triple-checking that I won’t spaz out again. I give him no sign of encouragement, but eventually he eases himself back into the chair.
“You feeling ok? Do you want to do this another time?”
I shake my head. “I’m good.”
He sighs and picks up his pen. I don’t think I was meant to hear it, but it was hard to miss. I recount the events of the evening as if I was a spectator and not a participant. It is the only way I can get it all out. When I’m done with my story, I answer all his questions. Supplying simple answers that don’t prompt further discussion.
“Do you have anything else you want to add to your statement?”
“No.”
He looks at me like I’m hiding something, but I’m not. I gave a full recount. Truth is, I don’t fully understand everything that Ace said. And Ryu was right, whatever Ace assumed I knew, he was wrong. But Ace didn’t believe him, same as Special Agent Robinson.
“If you think of anything else, here’s my card.” He slides me his business card. His eyes bore into me, and I shift in my seat. “I have a daughter your age. Leaving for college soon.” I keep quiet, knowing he’s not done.
“Are you going to college?”
“Boston University.”
He nods his head approvingly. “What are you going to study?”
“Journalism.”
“Impressive. Look,” he leans a little closer to me, “what happened tonight wasn’t your fault.” I purse my lips because that’s not exactly how I feel about it. “You’re young and have a great future ahead of you. Don’t let some good-looking punk take all that away from you. I’d hate to see you work hard to make something of yourself only to have it wasted because of a bad decision.”
I hold his gaze, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. What he doesn’t know is that I’m aware of all this.
Dragon's Burn Page 19
