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“Forgive me,” I say, walking back my words. “I only mean you met Graveyard at the hospital. I assumed she must be sick.”
Meredith’s demeanor shifts and she looks down at her hands. I feel a wave of anxiety ripple through her. It makes me uneasy. I feel that whatever she’ll say next will either be very bad or a flat-out lie.
“She’s not sick,” she says simply. That’s the best I’m going to get. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
I bristle. She’s purposely evasive, yet she wants answers from me? If she were one of my men, I’d punish her for insolence. But she isn’t one of my men. She already cowers around me. Force is not the move here, negotiation is.
“I’ll tell you what,” I say. “If you can tell me one truthful thing about your situation, I’ll answer any questions you have. And I should warn you, I’ll know if you’re lying.”
She assesses me, not even moved by my warning. She can’t know that I can feel her emotions, but it’s like she’s purposely composed herself. She’s become a stone wall.
“Fine,” she answers. “I’m trying to find Charlie a better home because I don’t have the means to take care of her. I want her to be with people who can give her everything she deserves, people who will show her the love and support she hasn’t had.”
“Where were you when that love and support was being withheld?”
“That’s more than one truthful thing,” she answers sharply. “My turn. When you’re feeling extreme rage, does Daisy always calm you down?”
Her face is impassable, but a smugness shows in her expression. Now that she’s making eye contact, I see knowledge behind her eyes that unnerves me. She can’t possibly know about the demon I keep buried inside, yet her question was pointed. Too specific.
“Meredith,” I say coldly. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t have to answer your questions. I would appreciate it if you stay away from my daughter. Charlie is welcome to play with her, but it’s probably best if you go back to your room now.”
She’s on her feet and at the stairs in a millisecond. I remain glued to the spot. Meredith is too insightful for her own good. I’m not sure that I want her around anymore. But I can’t refuse Charlie a safe place to stay, and I fear they’re a packaged deal. At least until Meredith finds the right people to care for her sister. It might be a good idea to aid her in that search so I can get her the hell away from my daughter.
CHAPTERTWELVE
My footsteps echo on the cold linoleum steps as I walk into the police station. A bored officer looks up at me, asking for my name in a monotone voice. I’m seething, chomping at the bit to get Hex out of jail and find out exactly what happened tonight. This glorified receptionist’s life mission is to make me lose my mind. He’s moving in slow motion, asking questions and typing things on his computer in half the speed.
I growl in frustration and sit in an uncomfortable plastic chair while I wait for another officer to get Hex out of his holding cell. This is ridiculous. I sent Hex out with Damien to a club where I know a few Cuatros Locos hang out. I figured they’d casually ask a few questions. Damien could have a head start on getting the hell out of the MC.
Instead, Hex had his ass beat and now I have to bail him out of jail. Fucking ridiculous. The whole point of working with an undercover cop was to avoid these situations. What good is he to me if my guys end up in jail for a fight he also participated in?
When Hex is released to me, he looks like absolute shit. He’s holding his arm in a funny way, and winces when he walks. He’s covered in bruises. I notice blood on his clothes. No telling if it’s his or someone else’s. What the hell happened out there?
“Come on, mon ami,” I say gently because he looks like he’s about to break. “Let’s get you home.”
When we’re back at the clubhouse, I call Graveyard to take a look at him. He insists he’s okay, but I’d bet my bike he has a broken arm. He’s pulling a tough-guy routine, but I’ve known Hex a long time. I know when he’s lying, and he’s fucking lying. Every time he tries to move, he takes in a sharp breath.
While we wait for Graveyard to show up, he fills me in on the night’s events.
“Your little friend is shit in a fight,” he says. “We’re in the club, having drinks with a couple guys from Cuatros Locos when he throws out accusations. No small talk, no comradery, nothing. He tells them he knows they’re using kids as mules and he wants to know where they’re finding them.”
What. The. Fuck. I’m going to kick Damien’s ass. For that matter, I’m going to kick the chief’s ass. Did he send me his worst guy? Did the kid not learn how to conduct an investigation?
“So, of course, that pisses the guys off. They start throwing punches. I step in, try to protect the spineless weasel because he looks like he’s going to puke, and they rail on me,” Hex goes on. “Then a few of their guys come in, see what’s happening, and join in. The kid disappeared and left me there.”
“I’ll talk to him,” I say, rage dripping from my voice. “This shouldn’t have happened, Hex. I’m truly sorry.”
He shrugs, then immediately winces. I feel sick, taking in his pitiful frame. He’s not well, not at all. I hope Graveyard brings some good painkillers.
“I can’t prescribe you any painkillers,” Graveyard says a few minutes later after checking Hex out. “In fact, this will probably be the last time I can check any of the guys out here,” he says, turning to me. “You can come into the hospital, and I’ll take care of all the paperwork, but the brass is coming down hard on me.”
“Can you set his arm at least?” I ask, looking at Hex with pity.
Graveyard shakes his head. “It’ll hurt like a bitch if I do it here. I’ve got a friend in orthopedics who can fix you right up, but like I said, it’ll have to be at the hospital.”
“Shit,” I curse under my breath. “What’s going on over there, Graveyard? Should I be worried?”
“They’re cracking down on all kinds of shit,” Graveyard tells us. “Ever since that kid went missing.”
