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He stood and walked around the chair, crouching down so we were face to face. “Why?”
“Because if you’re working with them, I’m dead anyway.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jag
Fuck!
Two days after Vivi spilled her guts to me at GET INK’D, I could still only utter one word. Fuck. Shit was so much more fucked up than I realized in Vivi’s life. Not only did she have a high level politician with a lot to lose if anyone found out about him chasing after his underage girlfriend, probably with hired government and private goons on Vivi’s tail, but now there was also Vigo.
Vigo wasn’t just the Vice President of Roadkill MC, he was a psychopathic son of a bitch who got off on causing people pain. He volunteered for the wet work and I was pretty sure the guy moonlighted as a serial killer. To put it short, he was batshit fucking crazy and if he was also an FBI informant he was likely to act bold. Reckless.
That meant Vivi was in even more trouble than she knew. And I had to be the one to tell her. Fuck!
Vivi breezed into the living room wearing her standard skintight black jeans and a dark tank top, only today she was barefoot. It probably didn’t mean a damn thing other than she’d been so engrossed in whatever angle she was working today and had forgotten to put on her boots. It didn’t mean she was comfortable here. Or that she was staying. “I have something for you.”
I smiled at her and patted the seat beside me. “I love surprises,” I told her even though I didn’t. Surprises were rarely good but when she sat I palmed her thigh. “What is it?”
“It’s not that, dirty boy.” Vivi pushed my hands away and turned the laptop so I could see the screen but I pulled her closer and kept the computer where it was.
“That’s better. Now show me.”
“Okay look.” She showed me several tabs of emails from Rizzoli to Agent Ryan. “They both thought they were being so careful, but this is an old school trick that even teenage girls used to talk to older guys online. Rizzoli wrote an email to Agent Ryan but instead of sending it, he saved it to the drafts folder and when Agent Ryan replied he did the same.” Vivi slid the laptop to my lap and stood. “Check out the drafts written in early May last year.”
I did what she said but, of course, Vivi had already pulled them up. “Motherfucker!” Rizzoli, that crazy fucker, had sent an email to the feds the day before the pot field had been set on fire. Lookout for retaliation by the Bastards. Burned marijuana fields. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker myself.”
“I know.” She sat and put a 2-liter bottle of diet root beer on the table along with two plastic tumblers full of ice. “I debated whether or not to share this with you, Jag. Because I know what it means.” She poured the root beer into each glass and handed one to me, her eyes serious as they tore through me. “War. Another war for you.” Vivi took a drink and sighed, as though the thought of me going back to war was hard to take. “I also know that the more wars you fight, the better the odds are of you dying.”
“Hey, Vivi, it’ll be fine.”
“No it won’t,” she shot back. “You don’t know that it’ll be fine and we both know that much, but this decision wasn’t mine to make. So here.” She handed me a flash drive. “To share with your club.”
“Shit Vivi, thank you.” I didn’t know how to express just how much this meant to me, getting exactly what we needed without any games.
“Don’t thank me for this, Jag. I wanted like hell to keep this from you. To scrub it from my drives and pretend I never saw any of it, but if you have to fight, then I prefer knowing you’re going in prepared. Or at least that you know there is a fight.” Her gray eyes were suspiciously wet and that just fucking gutted me. My tough girl, eyes wet with tears. For me.
I didn’t deserve her tears and that only made them impact me even more. “Aw, you care about me,” I joked.
“No need to make a big deal out of it,” she grumbled. “I’ll be in my camper.”
I wanted to stop her, to go after her and show her just how grateful I was that she’d come through for the club but she needed space. I didn’t know what changed over the past few days, but she’d been quieter than usual and spent more time in her trailer. I hated it, but she’d already had so much change and upheaval, I couldn’t begrudge her time and space.
So much fucking space I was suffocating with it but armed with the info from Vivi, there was no fucking time to waste. I picked up my phone and pressed the Prez’s number. “Cross, I got the info you need. Concrete proof, man.”
“Fuck yeah. You on your way here?” Ever since Lauren died Cross was always at the clubhouse. I didn’t even know if he ever went back to the house they shared or if he even still owned that house.
“Vivi’s here and I can’t leave her alone.”
“Shit. Can’t you bring her with?” I understood his frustration, but I doubted she would agree.
“Probably not but I’ll see what I can do, man.”
“Thanks, Jag. Really.”
&nbs
p; “Don’t thank me, it was Vivi who found it. I’ll keep you posted.” The call ended, and I tossed my phone on the table beside Vivi’s empty tumbler. Vivi. Having her here was surreal but in the best way possible. I just wish she wasn’t in so much fucking danger.
