Page 22 of Snake (Road Rebels MC 3)
I just didn’t know how the hell we were going to accomplish that anymore.
“Got Hawk,” Talon said. “We’re ready.”
Hawk took one look at Fox before he whistled and shook his head.
“Maybe I wasn’t clear on the rules for this little reunion at the lodge, but everyone is to be back every fucking night,” Mac said.
“You can’t keep us cooped up like this, Mac. It makes us look like fucking pussies. It’s stressing everyone out.”
“The only person complaining about it is you, Snake,” Talon said. “Everyone else is fine.”
“You sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure it was you last week who got into that fight with Syd,” I said.
“You did what?” Hawk asked.
“Now you’re just stirring up shit, Snake,” Fox said.
“No. I’m trying to point out something to Mac. Everyone’s getting restless. We’re family, but even family gets rough when we can’t live our own lives. You’re trying to coop us up like children without putting forth a plan to fix this shit. You’re our President, Mac. It’s not a good look when you don’t know what to do,” I said.
“What did you and Syd fight about?” Hawk asked.
“Yeah. Why don’t you tell Hawk why you were yelling at his wife,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mac said. “Snake, I get your point. But we’re stronger when we’re together. If Hawk and Sydney and Emery are in their home and Hawk leaves, who’s there to protect them? No one. But, if Hawk leaves the compound to go get something, all of us are there to defend them if something happens,” Mac said.
“I can’t come back to this lodge every night, Mac,” I said.
I felt myself crumbling in front of the guys as I drew in a shaky breath. I sat down in a chair and put my head in my hands. Images of Gemma bleeding out ran through my mind. Images of seeing our coats doused in blood shook me to my core. I felt my breathing shallowing out as gunfire echoed off the corners of my mind, pulling me back into a moment in our history that had altered me as a young boy.
That turned me into the angry man I was today.
“I don’t know what The Devil Saints are going to do,” Mac said. “But I’m not willing to take the risk of them finding out where my club lives and taking them out. Beast is unhinged. We have proof of that. Keeping us all here lowers the risk that Beast will go after us individually.”
“Which means he’ll just formulate a plan to take us out altogether,” I said.
“But that buys us more time because it’ll take more time for him to figure that shit out,” Mac said. “Which is what I’m doing all damn day instead of gallivanting off and finding some nice piece of ass to lay.”
I panned my gaze up as I stood to my feet. Mac’s eyes were locked on me as everyone stared me down. I wasn’t going to win this fight. As much as I wanted to and as much as I needed to, this wasn’t my fight to win. Mac was right, in his sick and twisted way. He was trying his best to keep us safe, and when I didn’t come back last night they probably all assumed I was dead.
I sighed heavily as my clenched fists slowly unfurled.
“Okay,” I said. “Back every night. Got it.”
“And no punching your club members,” Mac said. “That’s just unfair. We all know you have the meanest swing on this club.”
“And don’t you fucking forget it,” I said.
Chapter 20
Laiken
I walked out of the meeting room and headed for my desk. I was dazed, confused, and riddled with hurt. My heart was beating so fast I could no longer count its beats, and I was trying to keep a strong facade with my captain. I knew he would come in here at any moment and ask me what I thought. All of the men around me that were in that meeting were buying the shit Monaco was spitting. They were okay with her using suspicions and mindless chatter to connect dots we couldn’t prove, and it was all in the name of gang wars. I knew how the government looked at cases like this. I knew all they wanted was to clean up the streets. And maybe Monaco’s word was good. Maybe there was a reason to worry.
But I was stuck with two commanding officers who were running based on their guts instead of on proof.
Which meant it was possible Monaco had false information. There was no way on this fucking planet Jace was involved with a motorcycle gang. Sure, he fucking rode one. But that didn’t make him an outlaw. A criminal. According to the files, The Road Rebels were known for running drugs. No one could prove it, and no one had caught them in the act, but that was what the ‘chatter’ on the street was. The Devil Saints were known for prostituting their own women, owning strip clubs with dirty money, and pedaling drugs out of them. At least, that’s what the ‘chatter’ on the street was. But there was no fucking proof. There was nothing that connected them except for some woman and a truck full of drugs that were cut sort of like cartel drugs.
All of this shit smelled funky as hell, and I was pissed that I had been dropped in the middle of it.
Her information had to be false. There was no way Jace was wrapped up on all this. He was angry and could be a hothead, but that didn’t mean he was a gang member. He was selfish. Kept to himself. Crews and gangs have to rely on each other. Depend on each other. Jace was many things, but dependable and reliable were the last two words I’d use to describe him. He was loyal as long as you fucking gave him something, but if there was nothing in it for him, he was gone.
But that picture was so clear. It wasn’t grainy, like the others. It was Jace, without a shadow of a doubt. What the fuck was going on?
Sitting at my desk, I started doing a bit of research myself. A quick internet search popped up several articles on The Road Rebels, including something about a shootout six years ago. I remembered my captain saying something about that, so I clicked on the first article and began to read. Twelve members of the Rebels were found dead, and only circumstantial evidence linked it back to The Devil Saints. No one was charged. No one was convicted. And twelve people died without finding justice for who killed them.
I scrolled through article after article that reported on the killings. Most of them were local newspapers, and a couple were out of towns in the eastern portion of California, near the border with Nevada. I scrolled through endless articles that repeated most of the same thing, but there was one article I found that had a piece of information that hadn’t been mentioned in any other article.
It referenced a name I didn’t recognize.
“Anthony Duboir,” I said.
But there was something else that was there. A picture that went along with the article. It was small as well as in black and white, and expanding it only made it grainy. The picture looked like it had been taken from far away. Like the person was standing across the road behind something. There was a row of what looked to be tipped over motorcycles and objects that were lying on the ground.
Holy shit, those were bodies lying on the ground.
I did an internet search on the photo, but it only popped up in two more places. One of the places was a copy-and-paste job of the article, but the other article had the picture in a higher resolution. I figured it must’ve been the original source of the picture, but my blood froze when I studied it up close. There was a man staring at the camera. Straight through all the carnage and blood that had been spilled on the streets.
And I would recognize those eyes anywhere.
“Riley.”
I quickly clicked my screen out and turned my eyes up towards my captain.
“Lieutenant,” I said.
“I wanted to talk with you about the meeting,” he said.
My heart was thundering in my chest as I closed out the rest of my internet search.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“You’re very persistent about evidence,” he said.
“That’s my job.”
“No, your job is to arrest criminals for their wrongdoings.”
“With evidence to prove their crimes,” I said.
/> “Look, I know you’re new here, but sometimes… things aren’t as cut and dry as they are in bigger cities. In bigger cities, there are more people to question. There’s always another witness. The streets are so muddled with buildings and cameras and clubs… it’s almost impossible to get away with something because someone somewhere has caught it on something. But in places like this? Dusty old places with gangs and motor cycle clubs that control entire cities? It isn’t always that cut and dry.”
“Sir, it doesn’t matter. We can’t arrest a person on suspicion. No matter how much we think they’re guilty.”
“The Road Rebels and The Devil Saints are guilty, Riley. They waltz around here like they think they’re hot fucking stuff and they pedal drugs into our city. They sell the bodies of their own women to get more money to fuel their disgusting lifestyles. They need to be taken down.”
“And if we want them to be taken down the first time, then we need to do it right,” I said.
What the fuck was going on? I had Jace’s fucking picture up in the DEA’s meeting office. I had a picture of him during some damn shootout fuck-knew-how long ago. I’ve got a captain who’s ready for me to throw the book out the damn window and just arrest people because he’s got some hard-on for cleaning up Henderson. But most importantly I still didn’t have anyone who could give me a fucking honest answer on anything!
I was losing my mind.
“I knew you would be a risk, but I took you on. You bucked up to your captain, talked out of order, and consistently interrupted meetings with questions. When you transferred, your file came with mounds of paperwork. Paperwork that boasted of insubordination. I took you on, Riley, because, despite all that crap, I thought you would be worth it. And it’s time you started showing me that I didn’t make a mistake.”
I stared at my captain in astonishment. Insubordination? What the hell was this asshole talking about? My captain in the LAPD loved me. He constantly wanted me to come in on cases and help them solve shit. If I had to be written up for insubordination, then they had to fucking tell me about it. No one can write shit up on someone without informing them of their actions. Knowing about the write-up was one way that kind of behavior was combated in places like this.
“I can’t tell just yet if you’re trying to threaten me or if you’re serious, but one thing’s for sure. I will not arrest anyone without proper proof. Because the proper proof is what leads to a warrant,” I said.
