Page 40 of Contracted to the Bikers

Boone’s hand tightens slightly at my back. “But we found her in his building.”

“Yes.” I try to push away the thought of how afraid my little girl must have been, how brave and smart she was, trying to leave us clues to find her, and how absolute her faith in us was. How close it came to crushing that faith.

Cruz throws his hands up, spilling his whiskey as it sloshes over the side. “And that’s not enough?”

“Not without proof that he put her there.”

“What about the call?”

“Private number. I should have recorded it, but I wasn’t thinking straight, I—”

“Don’t go there,” Rook says. “This is all on Briggs.”

“I hate that the cops can’t do anything,” I say. The words taste bitter. I’d always trusted in justice, in the word of law being infallible, but now I see just how flawed it is, how it protects the guilty as much as the innocent, perhaps more.

Rook’s jaw flexes. “That’s bullshit.”

“Yes,” I say. “It is.”

Cruz pushes off the bar, pacing now, agitation rolling off him in sharp, restless waves. “What about the men?” he asks. “The ones we took down?”

“One’s in a coma,” I say. “The other isn’t talking.”

Cruz rolls his eyes. “Of course he’s not.”

“Briggs is claiming he hid during the firefight and called the police.”

Cruz scoffs. “Convenient.”

“Very.” I lean forward slightly, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor. The wood grain blurs as fresh tears spring to my eyes. I didn’t think I had any left in me. “He’s also filing a civil suit,” I add. “Against all of you, the club.”

“For what?” Rook asks, voice dangerously quiet.

“Assault. Harassment. Property damage.” I look at Boone, hating having to tell him. “He’s claiming you assaulted him as he was trying to escape the premises during the attack. He says you attacked him without provocation, that he feared for his life, and believed you were a burglar who had broken into his warehouse.”

Boone nods but says nothing, processing the information in his usual stoic manner.

Cruz laughs again, harsher this time. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I were.” I reach out and rest my hand on Boone’s, silently conveying that I’m here for him.

The room feels smaller, like the walls are closing in. We did everything right, and it still doesn’t matter. I close my eyes briefly. I can still hear Detective Alvarez’s voice. “Off the record? I believe you.” But belief isn’t evidence. Evidence is everything in a court of law.

Rook shifts closer. “Does Alvarez agree with this bullshit?”

I shake my head. “He knows Briggs is dirty.”

He slams his hands down on the table, the noise cracking through the room like a gunshot and making me flinch. “Then why the hell—”

“Because he can’t prove it,” I cut in. “Not yet.”

Silence, heavy and unavoidable, there’s nothing we can do. My hands curl into fists in my lap. I hate this part. The waiting, knowing the truth yet unable to act. Knowing that the perp could get away or cause more people harm before you can nail them. “I should have built the case first,” I mutter.

“You didn’t know,” Boone says quietly.

“I did,” I snap, sharper than I mean to. “I knew enough. I thought I’d had enough. I should never have gone to Briggs’ offices. I just—” I break off.

The truth of my mistakes hits me like a ton of bricks. I rushed, reacted too fast, and Jessy paid for it. If I’d waited, if I’d done it the right way from the start, if I’d built my case and let the cops handle the rest, Briggs would never have taken Jessy. We wouldn’t have had to rush in to rescue her, giving Briggs the perfect opportunity to frame us as the aggressors. Of course, the police will believe a respected businessman over a motorcycle club that operates in the gray areas. It’s not even like we can claim there’s no one else who might have a motive to kidnap Jessy, as a prosecutor, there are lots of disgruntled cons who might want to hurt me, and even more that might want to hurt Iron Vale MC. If Briggs hurt Jessy… it would be entirely my fault.