“The emergency room. Dipshit Hitchens’ wife and kid have turned up there.”
Nitro’s dark gaze meets mine, jaw clenching before he nods once, and heads in that direction.
“Seeing as he clocked in just before us, I’m guessing the wife waited until he was out of the house.”
I nod. Fuck I can’t wait until we can get these guys. From my estimation, there are at least three of them that were on the old Sheriff’s payroll. With how shady Hitchens acts I know they’re probably on some other fucker’s payroll even though we cleaned out the two cartels who attacked us. The problem is, when they’re in the business of smuggling and trading, it takes a lot more than cleaning out two cartels to make a difference. Get rid of one and two more pop up to take their place. Either that or Hitchens and his boys have found a way to run shit on their own. I’d like to think they’re too stupid, but dumb fucks can often make good criminals, they have no fear and don’t think too far ahead. Unfortunately, when cornered they tend to do even dumber shit which often leads to a lot of casualties.
Nitro pulls the cruiser into the parking lot, and we get out, leaving it unlocked and parked on an angle. I mean, what are they gonna do? Ticket the cops? Don’t think so. I follow him through the automatic doors, his firm ass making those department issue pants work hard. I stare at his ass as it wanders, not even looking at the blonde at the front desk.
“Ma’am, we’re looking for Mrs Hitchens. Can you tell us what room she’s in?” I turn at the last minute, hitting her with a panty dropping smile which as per usual, doesn’t disappoint.
The blonde blushes sweetly, stammering a little as she gives me the cubicle number and points me in the direction. I head that way, tipping my head at Nitro, getting him to follow me for a change. I roll my lips between my teeth, trying not to laugh but fuck if it’s not true. Ever since we landed in the same fire team he’s always been the one in the lead. Halfway through our tour I realized it’s because he thought so fucking little of himself that he was willing to risk his life every damn time we went in, rather than someone with a family or something to live for. Needless to say I beat his ass for that attitude and I’d like to think I’ve made a difference to how he sees himself. I know it screwed him up when I took that bullet. He still beats himself up about it, but all he needs to know is that I’m here and he’s not going anywhere without me.
Stopping outside the cubicle I gently call out, “Mrs Hitchens? It’s Rose Grove PD, is it OK if we come in and speak with you?”
A shaky voice agrees and I step inside, Nitro following close behind. I stop abruptly noticing Switch sitting there with a little copper haired girl on his lap. I raise a brow at my brother and he shakes his head slightly. Nodding I turn to Mrs Hitchens, trying hard not to cringe at the state of the woman. She’s covered in bruises. Some of them fresh, bright purple against her pale skin. Others are the sickly yellow color that shows they’re old and healing. She’s painfully thin and tiny. Lots of the MC ol ladies are on the shorter side, but this woman takes the cake. She wouldn’t even be five feet tall and 100 pounds soaking wet.
“Mrs Hitchens, we are in no way connected to your husband or any of his friends within the department, so please, believe me when I say that we are here to help you,” Nitro begins.
Her eyes dart to Switch’s, looking for permission. He nods gently, cradling the little girl in his arms.
“OK, sweetheart, start from the beginning.”
Nitro
I storm through the clubhouse doors and search for Niko. Seeing as we don’t quite have a bar yet he spends most of his time lurking in the kitchen waiting to pass us beer through the hatch. Seeing as it’s only nine in the morning and we’ve only just gotten off shift, it makes sense he’s not ready and waiting for the early Church Marx called.
I help myself to a beer, tossing one in Fox’s direction then Switch’s before we make our way into Church. Switch is almost vibrating with fury at what Hitchens’ wife told us in the safety of the hospital cubicle. We need to do something and fast, because this shit just can’t keep going on.
Marx takes one look at the three of us as we take our seats and bangs his fist on the wall behind him. Ever since our original clubhouse was destroyed along with our meat tenderizer gavel, Marx has been making use of his massive fist.
“Looks like our peacetime is coming to an end. Deputies, what have you got?” Pres smirks as the brothers give us all shit.
One look from Dr. Switch has them settling down fast.
“We got at least three on the take. Don’t know who is pulling the strings or how they’re involved with the shit coming through the ports.” Fox starts. “Deputy Hitchens seems to be the ring leader. Top deputy dawg, the other two doing whatever he tells them to do. Like all pieces of shit, he has a wife and daughter he likes to terrorize.”
“He’s a fucking monster,” Switch growls, earning him a side eye from me. He’s not often emotional, which I guess is something he’s had to train himself to be given his job.
“We’re collecting intel. It’s slow going but we get enough shit on him he’ll be going down,” I add. “Or we could speed it up and just kill the fucker.”
Marx smirks, before turning to Wire. “What do we have on the wife? Could she be involved?” Switch growls under his breath. Interesting.
“She’s clean. Comes from old Texas oil money. Religious background but parents kicked her out when she fell pregnant to Travis Hitchens. He married her and she miscarried under suspicious circumstances.” Eyes are all darting around the table. I’ve seen how he treats his wife. I imagine Travis Hitchensisthe mysterious circumstance. “She had seven miscarriages before she had a healthy baby girl.”
“Kit,” Switch offers.
“Yes. She’s five years old and home schooled by her mother from what I can tell.”
“To isolate them, most likely,” Rhodie grunts.
Angry curses travel around the table before Marx slams his fist against the wall again. “Switch, what are the chances of you seeing the wife and kid again?” Switch’s eyes narrow. “Look, if she’s in a bad position, she’ll need someone she can go to for help.”
“And someone she can pass information to,” Rhodie adds.
Switch is already shaking his head, “No fucking way. There is no fucking way I’m putting that woman in more danger. I can get her to trust me enough to help her out of her shit situation, but if we ask her to feed us info, she’s a dead woman.”
“She was damn near close tonight,” Fox says, looking around at our brothers.
