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Hawk picked the worst of the worst on the list…those who weren't just following orders but were key players in Roach's trafficking scheme. The motherfuckers who gleefully followed him can take the fall for his death. It's justice. Not for Roach, but for the people who deserve it. He can rot for all I care.
Hawk rolls his eyes. "On the fucking list."
"Good." I hold out my hand for the flashdrive.
He hesitates for a long moment and then reluctantly reaches into his pocket and passes it over.
I don't bother going back inside the club. The only thing in there is a cloud of perfume and fifty new reasons to be pissed off and miss Jessie. Instead, I cut down the alley and then around the side of the building, headed for my bike.
"You really expect us to believe the Diamond Kings had nothing to do with Roach's death?" Forsythe barks, looking at me like he knows I'm full of shit.
"Frankly, I don't give a shit what you believe, Forsythe." I rub my hand across my jaw, trying not to lose my temper. He's pushing it. He's been hounding me about this for two hours now. I'm over it. "I told you what I know. Do whatever the fuck you want with it. But if you want to know who has blood on their hands, maybe you should start by looking in the goddamn mirror."
He blanches.
"Enough, Thomas," Johannsson snaps, slamming a hand down on the desk.
I turn a baleful glare on him. "Enough? Where the fuck were you when I told this asshole that things were getting bad?" I demand. "Roach bought an innocent woman and held her hostage. You didn't do a goddamn thing. You didn't do a goddamn thing when he came to take her back. Or when he ended up dead. You didn't do a goddamn thing a week ago when Sin was shot in a drive-by. Now you want to say enough? It was enough for a fucking warrant before any of this happened!" I roar, rising to my feet.
Johannsson and Forsythe both stare at me in complete silence.
"If you want to point fingers and lay blame, I suggest you start with this motherfucking joke of a task force," I growl. "Because that's where it starts. That's why all of this shit happened. I did what you asked me to do. I kept my nose out of the Diamond King's business and got the fucking information on the Savages. I got more than that. The names of the victims and the names of every man who bought one of them are in there too. You're fucking welcome."
"No one's saying you didn't do your job, Thomas," Johannsson says, suddenly in peacekeeper mode. Jesus. The asshole knows I'm right. "Forsythe was merely trying to ascertain the extent of the Diamond King's involvement in Roach's death."
"Roach is responsible for Roach's death," I mutter, scrubbing a hand down my face. I'm so fucking tired, and this isn't anywhere near over. "When you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. He's been fucking people over and victimizing people his entire life. This is the result."
Johannsson and Forsythe exchange a glance. Forsythe doesn't believe a word I said. I don't really give a shit. He can look all day long, but he won't ever find any proof that Sin killed Roach. Getting me into the Diamond Kings was a one-in-a-thousand shot. They'll never get anyone else close enough. And even if they drag every member of the Savages into their interrogation room, they won't talk. Outlaw MCs don't talk to cops, not even to avenge one of their own.
Besides, if he digs too deep, he'll have to answer for his own failures. We both know he isn't going to fucking do that. He'll let it lie because he has no choice, not unless he wants to answer a whole lot of questions he can't answer. He was in charge of this operation. He failed to act on the intel I gave him on multiple occasions. He fucked up.
Forsythe isn't the kind of cop willing to own that. He's not the kind willing to stick his neck out to make amends. You won't ever see a motherfucker like him risking life and limb to make it right. He's a bitch. Always has been, always will be.
"I'll call the judge," he says, his tone sour. "We should have a warrant soon."
For the first time since I left Jessie's dorm five days ago, I take a breath.
I'm coming for you, little one.
When I arrive back at the ranch two hours later, a storm is brewing. The brothers are gearing up, their faces set in stone.
"What the fuck is going on?" I ask Risk, alarm bells ringing.
"Got a lead on the motherfuckers who shot Sin," he says.
"Jesus."
"We're heading out."
"We?" I arch a brow.
"Family first," he says, his tone grim.
Fuck me.
"What about Jessie?" I growl. "You're supposed to stay out of this shit for her."
"Jessie has nothing to do with this." He shoves his shit into his saddlebags, yanking the zipper closed. "This is about right and wrong. What they did was fucked up. This is justice."
