Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
It was one of the cops.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I watched in horror as a geyser of blood exploded from him, pumping in time with his heartbeat. Motherfucking moron had just shanked one of the off-duty cops. In a cop bar. That’s when Rome appeared—somehow shoving two men almost twice his size out of the way—and slammed a wad of something down over the wound.
“You! Call EMS,” Rome ordered the bouncer as a dazed Painter pulled himself to his knees next to me. Talia appeared behind him, slamming a glass pitcher over his head. Then Sadie and the other girls were screaming at her to run as Painter pitched forward. I caught him, dragging him back again as uniformed cops swarmed us.
Everything seemed to slow around me.
The waitress was hiding under a table, head down between her legs. Rome was calmly giving orders, blood spatter coating him as he fought desperately to save the cop’s life. Talia and company had found a break in the fence and were slipping through it.
Then uniformed cops surrounded us, and I snapped back into reality. One of them yelled for everyone to lie down on the ground, hands behind their heads. Damned hard to do, considering I had Painter’s dead weight to support.
That’s probably why they Tased me.
Fucking awesome end to a fucking awesome day.
• • •
“Good news, at least for you,” the lawyer said. Dobie Coales had been one of the Reapers’ attorneys for nearly ten years now, but we’d been friends since grade school. He looked like a big, dumb good ol’ boy, which had served us well many times, because the man was fucking brilliant. Couldn’t imagine anyone I’d rather have at my side, all things considered.
I’d spent a charming night in the Kittitas County jail, which was always good fun. Now it was Sunday afternoon, and Coales sat facing me across a table, holding a file folder of papers I sincerely hoped included some strategy for saving my ass.
Coales was good.
Very good. If there was a way out of this one, he’d find it for me, although I figured my cover was blown. We hadn’t gotten all the information we wanted from Marsh, but I didn’t give a shit anymore. All I’d been able to think about last night was Tinker.
Specifically, what the rumor mill was telling her about yesterday’s incident.
This wasn’t exactly the way I’d wanted to introduce her to club life.
“I take it that means the guy Marsh stabbed is alive?” I asked. That’d been my biggest concern. If he’d killed a cop and I got roped in as an accessory, not even the club would be able to save my ass.
“He’ll survive,” Coales said. Thank fuck for that. “Not sure how much damage yet, but they haven’t said anything about lost limbs or brain injuries.”
“He wasn’t lookin’ so good.”
Coales shrugged. “Guess he had a rough night, but he’s stable. They don’t seem to think his life is in danger at this point. That’s the important part.”
“How about Painter?” I asked. Coales’s face went carefully blank. “Ah fuck. He’s going back to prison, isn’t he?”
“Probably,” the lawyer admitted. “Although we’ll do everything we can to fight it. Things went south with the probation department back home while you were in Hallies Falls. His old probation officer is gone. Facing corruption charges.”
Dobie said the words blandly, as if he hadn’t been the one paying those bribes. Heh.
“Shitty to be him,” I replied. “We got any worries there?”
Like, is he gonna testify against your ass for arranging the whole thing?
“Aside from losing our influence? No, I don’t think so. It’ll take time to rebuild, though. Time Painter doesn’t have. Shame, too. Guess his girlfriend is knocked up.”
“Wow,” I said, leaning back in my chair. Should’ve told Marsh to fuck off when he asked for Levi. “That sucks.”
“Won’t argue there,” he said. “But you can’t do anything to help him, so let’s stay focused on your situation. We’ve found some friends in the prosecutor’s office locally. Talked to one of them this morning. Seeing as you weren’t wearing Nighthawks colors and didn’t instigate anything, they’re willing to look at you as a bystander who got caught up in something, rather than a conspirator.”
“How much did that cost?”
Dobie smiled. “Less than it would cost for a full defense at trial. I’m always looking to save my clients money. Good news is you’ll be out on bail later this afternoon. Still need to work through the formalities, of course. Prosecutor won’t decide whether or not to charge you you until there’s been a full investigation proving your innocence.”
“Glad to know our public servants are so thorough.”
“Always,” Coales said, smirking. “I have to say, in my professional opinion Marsh Jackson is a fucking moron. Not only did he attack an off-duty cop, he had enough meth on him to be charged with intent to distribute. I guess attempted murder wasn’t enough. The rest of the club will likely be charged as accessories. The picture we’ll be painting to the public is that you’re the innocent victim of these terrible drug dealers. Gangs like the Nighthawk Raiders really are a scourge on society.”