Custom Love

by Chantal Fernando

  “I know.”

  I give him a hug as a thank-you and we say goodbye. Once he leaves, I rest my head back on the couch and sigh heavily.

  What a fucking mess.

  * * *

  Monday morning rolls around and I’ve never hated a day of the week more.

  “You still here?” I ask, surprised when I see Atlas waiting at my office. The babysitting has gotten scarcer since nothing has been happening, but the prospects are still around now and then.

  He nods. “Don’t sound so sad—I brought coffee and chocolate.”

  “Okay, I’ll keep you.” I smile, unlocking the door and letting us inside.

  Atlas heads out back into the kitchen, probably playing on his phone or something, when Decker shows up. “I’ve figured this whole thing out. I’m the best cop ever,” he says, sitting down and pulling out his phone.

  “What have you figured out?”

  He slides his phone over to me. “This was taken a week before Damon was arrested. It’s a still shot from camera footage from one of the houses on the street.”

  I look at the photo, my eyes widening. “Shit.”

  I stare at the two men in the photo. One I was expecting, but the other? I don’t know what to say right now.

  There, clear as day, is Damon talking with none other than Chains.

  The MC is tied to him, or at least Chains is.

  How much does the MC know? Did they conspire against Ariel? Were they responsible for her death?

  Before I go further down that rabbit hole, I take a deep breath. Think about this, Nadia. Thoughts of Crow and the rest of the MC. How they mourned Ariel like she was one of their own. I don’t think it’s possible for all of them to have had something to do with her murder.

  I call out for Atlas, and tell him that I need to speak to Temper.

  “I’ll see where he is,” Atlas says instantly, disappearing again. He must have heard the urgency in my tone.

  Decker arches his brow. “I just told you the MC is involved, and you tell the biker hidden in your staff room?”

  “I think it’s Chains. Just Chains. No, I know it is. There is no way the rest of the MC knows. Temper doesn’t allow them to deal any drugs. Long story,” I say.

  “I don’t like this, Nadia, but you know I was told to stand down, so this isn’t actually police business.”

  “Leave this with me, I’ll handle it. I’ll speak with Temper and find out once and for all. Can you send me the photo?”

  “Okay, I’ll send it now. Call me,” he murmurs, trusting me without explanation, and leaving me with Atlas, who tells me to get on his bike and that we are going to the clubhouse.

  He hands me a helmet and I climb on the back, and hold on to him as he speeds through traffic and gets us to the clubhouse in a record time. I get off his bike, remove the helmet and fix my hair.

  “Don’t tell Trade I did that,” Atlas says as we walk inside.

  “Did what?” I ask, confused.

  “Took you on my bike.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Just don’t.”

  “Atlas?”

  He doesn’t reply as we walk through the clubhouse and out the back, where Temper is sitting in the backyard.

  “Nadia, you’re here,” Temper says when he sees me, standing up from his seat. “Come sit down.”

  I sit and pull out my phone. I don’t know how this is going to play out, but I just want to have an honest conversation with Temper. I know I’m not a member of the MC, and he owes me no information, but I just need to know.

  “What do you want to talk about?” he asks, a curious expression on his face.

  “I need to ask you a question, and I need a straightforward answer, knowing that I’m not the police and this will stay between us,” I say, shifting on the wooden chair.

  “Okay.”

  “Do you sell drugs?” I ask unflinchingly. Behind me, Atlas makes a strangled noise of amusement.

  “No,” Temper declares. “We haven’t, and won’t as long as I’m president. Why?”

  I slide him my phone. “You might not be, but Chains is. This is a picture of him with Damon, the man convicted of killing Ariel, a week before she was murdered. Damon was dealing drugs, and we think he was getting the drugs from Chains.”

  The photo clearly shows Chains handing over a package to Damon. I don’t know what was inside it, but I can guess.

  They weren’t there just having a friendly chat.

  Temper curses. “Chains and I recently butted heads about this—he suggested getting into drugs to make more money, over the new plan I have, and I shut it down instantly. Looks like he’s gone ahead and done what he wanted anyway.” Temper brings his brown eyes to me. “Thank you, Nadia. Atlas, call a meeting for everyone except Chains. Message Trade and make sure he keeps an eye on Chains and keeps him at the garage.”

  “On it,” Atlas replies.

  I realize that I’m stuck here. “Atlas drove me here—do you have a car I can borrow? I have something I need to do.”

  “Atlas has a fucking death wish,” Temper murmurs, handing me a set of keys. “Stay out of trouble until this is sorted.”

  I nod, take his keys and then text Bronte to ask her for Chains’s address, but for her not to mention it to anyone. I know she’s going to have some questions, but I don’t have anyone else to ask.

  He’s at work, so it’s safe for me to go there, and I want to find out what else he’s been hiding.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Atlas jumps in the car with me last minute before I leave the clubhouse.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Temper said you’re probably going to do something stupid, and I’m supposed to stop you.”

  “You can’t stop me, but you can join me. I’m going to search Chains’s apartment,” I say. “You in?”

  He nods. “Prez told me to go wherever you do.”

  “Why would Chains go against Temper and the MC?” I ask out loud when we arrive.

  “That’s the question of the day,” Atlas mumbles, bending his head to look across at all the apartment buildings. Chains lives in a densely populated residential area. “He apparently lives in one of those.” He points to the older, brown brick building that looks like it has seen better days.

  “Looks pretty shady.”

  “Matches his character.”

  My lip twitches.

  “I didn’t see this coming,” Atlas admits. “I mean, he was always kind of weird and brooding, but fuck. I never once thought he wouldn’t give his all for the club. We’re the only family he has. I don’t get why he would fuck that up.”

  “Who knows? I guess when drugs and greed are involved, people do stupid shit.”

  We park behind the building and make our way through the gate, then up the stairs to Apartment 57. When we get there, I look at Atlas. “Don’t judge me, but cover me so no one can see what I’m about to do.”

  He blocks me with his body while I start picking the lock with a hairpin I keep in my bag at all times. After a few minutes I manage to get it open and step inside, Atlas at my back.

  Chains’s apartment is surprisingly tidy, pretty bare, but not exactly what I was thinking. I was expecting a typical bachelor pad, but it looks like Chains is a bit of a clean freak.

  We separate and start looking through all of his shit without making any mess, because we don’t want him to know that anyone was here. I step into his bedroom, ignoring the huge king-size bed and going for the drawers. I find stacks of money, more than a mechanic would make, but I find nothing else incriminating.

  I open his closet and a few items of clothing fall out. I pick them up one by one and try to place them back just how they were. A black studded belt hanging on a rack on the door catches my eye. Something about it looks familiar.
Where have I seen this before? I rack my brain to think of why this seems important.

  Dread fills my stomach, but I shake it off.

  No way. It can’t be.

  I hold the leather in my fingers and decide to take it with me just in case.

  “Anything?” I call out to Atlas.

  “Nope. Just some weed that I’m tempted to steal.”

  “Yeah, maybe don’t?” I say.

  I roll my eyes and get back to looking through all of the documents on top of his bedside table. There’s an old phone sitting in his top drawer, under a bunch of crap, but he’d definitely notice if that went missing. I turn it on, but it also has a password, so I’m not able to access it.

  I pick up a handwritten letter from Taylor to Chains. I take that with me, and then we get the hell out of there. Atlas drops me off at the station.

  Decker rushes over when he sees me, and I update him on what happened and ask to see the evidence from Ariel’s case again. He leads me back into the room, and hands me the box.

  “What are you looking for?” he asks me.

  “This,” I say, as I take out the stud that was found at the crime scene from the box.

  I place it, with the little clear bag it’s in, on the belt I took from Chains.

  And fuck.

  There’s one stud missing from the belt.

  And the missing stud has been in the evidence box this whole time.

  Either Chains was there that night, or someone wearing this belt was. He knows what happened to Ariel.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  While Decker is still processing my theory, I read the letter from Taylor to Chains. It was a gamble taking it, because he might notice that it’s missing, but I didn’t have time and I knew I wanted to read it.

  Chains,

  I love you so much, and thank you for giving me everything I need. Without Damon here, I can now move on with my life with you, and we can be together forever. I don’t care whether he killed that girl or not. They found him guilty and now I can be free from him. You are a stronger man than he will ever be.

  I can’t wait to be your wife one day.

  Love, Taylor

  I show Decker. “It’s a bit vague, but either way, I’m convinced Chains had something to do with Ariel’s murder.”

  I know going off a leather belt is kind of a stretch, but it’s just too coincidental for my liking.

  The belt.

  The fact that he’s gone rogue dealing drugs, and against his president’s wishes.

  What else has he done? Did he kill Taylor, too? Is he really capable of murdering someone?

  “What do you want to do?” Decker asks me.

  “I don’t want to tell anyone else about Chains until I’m sure and have enough evidence to prove my theory,” I say. “I need a little time.”

  And if I’m right, I don’t know what Trade will do to Chains when he finds out. It’s one thing finding out a man you consider family is scheming behind your back. It’s a whole different thing finding out that he killed a woman you loved.

  I don’t want Trade to do anything that he will regret.

  I don’t have the time to go around hoping to find any scraps of evidence. At this point, it’s now or never. But how the hell am I going to make this happen?

  I come up with an idea. It’s fucking terrible, but it might work.

  Or it might not. I’m just going on a hunch here, but what do I have to lose at this point?

  My phone rings and Trade’s name pops up. Okay, I have everything to lose. But what other options do I have? I need to beat Chains at his own game and play him.

  I need to win.

  “What happened to Ariel’s phone?” I ask Trade when I pick up.

  “What?”

  “Ariel’s phone. What happened to it that night?” I ask. “It’s important, Trade.”

  “It was lost in the lake, I guess,” he replies.

  “What kind of phone was it?”

  “Samsung in gray.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  “What’s going on, Nadia? I got some orders to keep Chains busy for a while and I have no fucking clue what’s happening,” he whispers.

  “It will be fine. Stick to those orders, and I’ll tell you everything after. I love you.”

  I hang up and get in my car.

  * * *

  I break into Chains’s apartment for the second time, this time alone. I’m not as stealthy. As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t even matter if he knows I was here, because after the MC confronts him, I doubt he will be coming back here anyway.

  The phone is where I last saw it, sitting in his side table drawer. If it really is Ariel’s, then he must keep it here as some kind of trophy, which is sick. I grab the phone, have a quick look around for anything else that will come in handy, and then get the hell out of there.

  When I’m safely in the car, I send Trade another text. What is Ariel’s passcode?

  He replies straight away. It’s her birthday, 1219. You found her phone??? Babe, call me as soon as you can.

  “Fuck, I hope this is her phone,” I whisper as I press in the four numbers.

  The phone unlocks.

  “Oh my God, it is her phone,” I say. I browse through her photos, her messages, my heart dropping as I finally understand what happened. “Yeah, I have what I need.”

  There are photos of Chains talking to Damon. Money exchanging hands. These are better photos than what Decker has. Ariel must have come across them at the gas station on her way home from the salon. On her way home to Trade, while he was waiting for her that night.

  Chains must have seen her, and needed her to not report back to the MC. The last photo has Chains looking directly into the camera. He saw her. He saw her taking photos.

  So he killed her.

  He did do it.

  I head straight to Decker and tell him everything.

  “If his prints are on this phone, that would be perfect.”

  “I tried not to touch it as much as I could, but I’ve picked it up twice,” I reply, wincing. I should’ve worn gloves. Rookie move on my part. “So hopefully they are still on there.”

  I head to Fast & Fury next. I don’t know what they know, so I need to act normal until I know what’s going on.

  When I step inside the garage, it’s quiet. A little too quiet. Bronte runs over when she sees me. “You’re okay, thank fuck.”

  “I’m fine—what happened?”

  “The whole MC came here and took Chains away,” she admits, linking her arm with mine. “Do you know what’s going on? It was hard to watch. Temper punched him in the face and they all dragged him out of there. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “Where’s Trade?”

  “He’s out back.”

  I walk into the staff room to find him braced over the wall, head down. He looks up when he hears me. “Hey.”

  “Tough day?” I ask, wrapping my arms around him from behind and resting my cheek against his back.

  “Yeah, you could say that. What happened with Ariel’s phone? You found it?”

  I nod. “Yeah, you might want to sit down for this one.”

  He sits straight down and looks up at me.

  “I found her phone at Chains’s apartment,” I start, taking a deep breath. “I thought he had something to do Ariel, and I was right.”

  “What?” he whispers, shock apparent.

  Everyone now knows Chains is a liar, but no one ever thought he could have murdered one of their own. That thought is written all over Trade’s face.

  I start from the beginning and explain about the drugs, the photos, the small clues, and then how I remembered seeing a phone there. And when it matched the phone he told me Ariel had, all the pieces came together.

&n
bsp; “She was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. She saw him speaking to Damon during the drug deal, and he killed her before she could tell anyone,” I say quietly, rubbing his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Trade.”

  He goes silent as he processes what I’ve told him. The betrayal must hurt so deeply, especially because this man was under his nose every damn day.

  “He fucking comforted me when I lost her,” he finally says, his fingers trembling. I take his hand in mine and give it a squeeze.

  “He’s not who anyone thought he was,” I agree, swallowing hard. “And now he’s going to pay for what he’s done.”

  “Yes, he will,” Trade murmurs, and stands and starts to walk out the door.

  “Where are you going?” I call out, chasing after him.

  “To the clubhouse,” he replies, shaking me off when I try to grab hold of his arm.

  “Trade, you can’t do anything stupid. You’re not thinking clearly right now,” I say.

  He turns and looks at me, eyes narrowed with determination. “Stay here, Nadia.”

  He storms out and gets into his truck. I ignore him and follow, jumping into the passenger’s seat. “I’m coming.”

  He opens his mouth.

  “And don’t even try to tell me what to do,” I add.

  He closes his mouth, his jaw going tight.

  Smart man.

  The ride is tense, and I turn the music on for a little distraction. Trade turns it back off. Apparently he likes the thick atmosphere.

  “You need to calm down before we get there,” I say, keeping my tone gentle. “You need to think before you do something that you’re going to regret.”

  “I’m not going to kill him,” he says. “Even though that’s what he deserves. I have my kids to think about. But he’s not just going to get away with this either. I’m not going to regret a damn thing. He’s going to get what’s coming to him.”

  I exhale deeply, and then send Crow a text so he knows what to expect.

  Let’s just hope that Chains is left alive to go to prison, and it’s not Trade, or one of the other men, going there instead.