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“Killian Murphy. Which one of you scumbags is Killian Murphy?”
Beside her, Copper growled low in his chest. She tried to send him a telepathic message, begging that he cooperate and make it easier on himself.
“Why the fuck are you in my house?” Copper asked without changing his position.
Baccarella strode closer until he loomed over Copper’s prone form. “Murphy?”
“Hmph.”
“Well Mr. Murphy, we’ve been tipped off that your motorcycle gang is running drugs across state lines.” He tsked. “You know that’s not allowed.”
“Then why the fuck are you pussies here and not the DEA?”
Good question. And drugs? Baccarella knew damn well the MC didn’t traffic drugs. Hell, the SAC wished they were pushing dope, because he could have passed them off to the DEA and been done with them.
“Not your job to ask the questions, Mr. Murphy.” He had to know how it would grate on Copper to be called Mr. Murphy and to have his MC called a gang. Baccarella was especially gifted at the underhanded jabs and digs. “We have a warrant here to search the premises for illicit drugs. If you ladies and gentlemen don’t mind holding your positions, we’ll conduct our search. We find nothing, we’ll leave you alone. We find something, well, most of you will get to enjoy a free ride to our Knoxville field office.”
“And if we do mind?” Copper ground out.
Baccarella laughed, and Stephanie had to restrain herself from jumping up and smacking him across the face. Arrogant asshole. There was a way to do this that wasn’t demoralizing and mortifying. Especially since he wasn’t going to find so much as a dusting of cocaine.
“Guess I really just don’t give a shit, Mr. Murphy.”
Baccarella looked at her and winked before strutting off to join the men and women already tearing through the clubhouse.
“The fuck was that?” Mav asked from her side.
What the hell was Baccarella thinking? He needed to watch himself before he blew her cover straight out of the water.
“Guy’s just an asshole,” Steph said.
A child’s cry followed by a woman’s shout could be heard from upstairs.
Copper reacted instantly, pushing up from the ground, but an agent was on him before he could fully rise to his knees. “Back on the fucking ground! Now!” the agent screamed, gun to Copper’s head.
“Swear to Christ,” Copper muttered, resting his forehead on the ground. His body was so tense, like a caged tiger growing hungrier by the second. One wrong move by the agent, and he’d spring into action, consequences be damned.
“They’ll be okay,” Stephanie whispered. “They probably just woke Beth and pissed Shell off. You know what a mama bear she can be.”
He turned his head and stared into her eyes. She’d never encountered anger like she witnessed in his gaze. With a nod, he seemed to unwind, just a smidge, and said, “Thanks.”
Time passed so slowly it felt like they’d been there for hours when in reality it had only been about twenty-five minutes. Stephanie’s elbows ached from being curved for so long, and her chest was sore from being flattened against the grungy wooden floor.
About five minutes later, Baccarella strode out of Copper’s office with a neutral expression on his face. This was going to go one of two ways. Either they found nothing or they planted something. She feared it was the second. Otherwise, they’d have no reason to pull anyone into jail and separate her from the club. She held her breath, waiting for Baccarella to speak. Even though she knew full well what was coming, hearing the words would pierce her heart.
“Well, boys, looks like it’s your lucky day. We tore this place apart, so sorry about the mess, and didn’t find a damn thing.”
Wait. What? They found nothing. Where was he going with this?
“Big fucking surprise,” Copper grumbled.
“Huh, looks like we had a bad tip. Happens sometimes. Here’s how this is going to go. We’re going to file on out now. You all remain on the floor until we are out of sight. Don’t want any sudden moves spooking one of my agents into shooting, now do you?”
It made no sense. What was happening?
When he was the final remaining agent—meaning no witnesses to whatever happened next—Baccarella started toward the door then snapped his fingers and turned around. “Oh, almost forgot one thing. Agent Little? Stand up, please.”
Stephanie’s blood ran cold, and she swore her heart stopped beating for five seconds before it kicked up so fast she was instantly dizzy.
“Agent Little, I gave you a direct order.”
Tears filled her eyes and spilled over completely unchecked. She didn’t care if it was childish or unprofessional; they couldn’t be stopped. This was not protocol. This wasn’t procedure. This was punishment at its very worst.
“Y-yes, sir,” she said, rising on legs that shook like palm trees in a hurricane.
Beside her, Maverick whispered, “What the fuck?” And she could feel Copper’s laser stare burning into her.
