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As soon as I clocked in, Sarge called me into his office. Anxiety kicked in as I wondered what I’d done to draw his attention so soon. Or worse, had something happened over the weekend with the Reckless Bastards that he’d hold me to account for? I knocked, standing at his door like a scared kid getting called to the principal’s office. And I didn’t like it. At all.
He looked up with an expression that was a mix between smile and a scowl. “Ellison, come in. Have a seat.”
I sat on the edge of the seat, spine erect, and waited impatiently for the hammer to fall. Jenkins had given me a good writeup last week, so I had no clue why I was here. All I could do was wait. I fucking hated waiting.
Finally, Sarge looked up and grinned as he leaned back in his seat. I took his relaxed posture as a good sign, but I didn’t move from the edge of my seat.
“Ellison, why do you want to be a cop?”
“Sir?” This again? It wasn’t the first time I’d been asked the question, and I doubted it would be the last.
“Why do you want to be a cop? Your whole family, your friends are part of a motorcycle gang. Why aren’t you a part of that gang?”
It was just as Jenkins had warned me it would be—the constant doubt. The mention of my family and by default, the Reckless Bastards.
I stammered a bit, hoping it wasn’t a trap. “I love my family, and I’m a Harley enthusiast, but we all get to choose what we do in this life, don’t we, sir?”
“Well, yes.”
“Did you follow in your old man’s footsteps?” I asked, respectfully.
He laughed. “Hell no. He was a plumber until the day he died, right under the sink inside an old, beat up trailer house in the desert. Worked his ass off all his life for nothing.”
“I love the law and justice, too, and that’s where I want to put my energy. I have enough confidence in the law to know that if the Reckless Bastards were doing something illegal, someone would be in jail.”
I knew exactly what businesses the MC dabbled in, just about everything from gun to drugs to girls, but it was up to the law to deal with it when and if they could prove it.
Sarge nodded, seemingly satisfied by my words as he pushed away from the desk and stood. “You heard about the double murder with that priest?”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded because how could I not? “It was on every news station.”
“Right. The Feds requested you as the local PD liaison for this case.”
I caught myself before I did a double-take. I’d been on the job all of two weeks. “Thank you, sir. But why me?” This was the kind of lucky break that could change the trajectory of someone’s career, but I was skeptical. I barely got here, so it didn’t make any sense.
“You want it or not?”
“Yes, sir, I do. But I’d like to know why me? I’m still a rookie cop.”
Sarge rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “Feds believe that your connections to people on both sides of the law make you perfect for what they need.” He sighed and leaned forward to look at me directly. “This is a good thing, Ellison. You do a good job and you’ll likely be fast-tracked for a promotion.”
“Thank you.” I stood and smoothed down the crisp creases on my pants. I still couldn’t believe I wore the uniform. “Just for the record, I don’t live my life on both sides of the law. I’m a law enforcement officer, and my family is my family.”
“Noted. Change into your civvies and go find the redhead with too much fucking attitude. The Feds have commandeered one of our meeting rooms for their headquarters, at least for now. Dismissed.”
I was excited for the opportunity of working with the FBI on the Mueller case, and as much as I hated it, I did have valuable insight that might help them figure out what in the hell happened in that hotel room. But that didn’t mean I lived my life on both sides of the fucking law. I did what needed to be done when it came to protecting my family because that was what families did. Me being a cop had nothing to do with that. I was all for justice.
But after what happened to Luke, witnessing the crime itself and the aftermath, the way it tore his family apart, waiting for answers and justice that still hadn’t come, had made it clear how I wanted to spend my life. I wasn’t immune to the collateral damage the MC left in its wake all in the name of business. It left a mark, as did the funerals and the late-night wounds needing to be patched up.
