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“Nope. Just that it wasn’t working. Oh, and that he was dealing with poachers. You should probably call him.” Lotto checked his watch. “I gotta go. But I want you to tell your woman something for me.”
Ben wasn’t used to thinking about Sophie as his woman, yet the idea filled him with the kind of warmth a man couldn’t get from a physical workout or a hot cup of coffee. “What?”
“If she needs help with the parade, I’m in.”
Ben laughed, not surprised Lotto already knew about Sophie’s decision. “I’ll tell her.”
“And Ben?” Lotto had one hand on the door frame and he was backlit by the light coming from the kitchen. “Don’t screw this thing up with Sophie. She loves you, brother. Accept it. Appreciate it. Embrace it. And whatever you do, don’t let her go. No matter what else you believe about yourself, believe you are good enough for her.”
Ben’s mouth went dry and all he could do was nod in silent agreement.
Lotto returned to the kitchen, and Ben headed toward his apartment over the old drug store next to the police station. He was so preoccupied by Lotto’s words, he slipped on the snowy path and had to grab a tree branch to stay upright.
Ben had been keeping a distance between himself and Sophie, and he wasn’t sure why–until Lotto had laid it out with a simple clarity. Ben still believed he wasn’t good enough–for his job, for his family, for Sophie. He’d made mistakes when he’d been younger, including running with the MC. But maybe Lotto was right. Maybe he was good enough for her.
When he got closer to his apartment, the path curved, following the river’s bank. The river flowed around the end of the street, almost at a right angle, and continued behind the church. That meant although he could see the church’s lit-up steeple ahead of him, he could no longer see Sophie’s apartment behind him. She seemed far, far away. Or maybe it was his own self-imposed distance that brought up those feelings.
As he unlocked his building’s back door, his cell phone buzzed. It wasn’t unusual for him to get calls in the middle of the night, but they were never about happy things.
He pulled it out of his back pocket and checked the ID. FBI agent Charlie Wallace. “Sheriff Mosby.”
“We have a problem.” Charlie barked out the words.
He locked the door behind him and hurried up the stairs to his apartment. “What kind of problem?”
“So far, thanks to Sophie’s evidence, we’ve arrested five Black Jacks members without exposing her identity.”
“That’s good.” Ben didn’t turn on the lights. Instead, he tossed his keys onto the kitchen table and stood by the window overlooking Main Street. The street lamps and random Christmas decorations gave off some light, but he also had a perfect view of the church’s illuminated bell tower. He smiled at the realization his apartment was on Santa’s parade route. A route that led back to Sophie’s apartment. “And?”
“Remember how you wondered if there was still a Black Jacks prospect running around who we can’t find? Someone who attacked a Devil’s Renegade MC member and might have done the dirty work that left Sophie a suspect a few weeks ago?”
A burning sensation crawled up his spine. The Black Jacks MC had gone to great lengths to take down the Devil’s Renegades MC and frame Sophie for the murder of her foster father. If it hadn’t been for her own intelligence and courage, she’d be in a jail cell instead of tucked in her own bed down the street. “Of course I remember.”
“My contacts in Virginia believe this Black Jacks prospect–a man named Pepper–may be near Kingsmill. It’s also possible he set fire to a barn owned by Damian Fawkes’ father. Pepper has been spotted in Mosby’s Gap, probably living in a tent somewhere.”
Ben muttered a curse and leaned his back against the cold window. “Charlie, are you sure about this intel?”
“Two of my CIs confirmed this information independently. While I can’t be a hundred percent sure, there’s a strong possibility it’s true.”
“Do you think this prospect, Pepper, knows about Sophie? Or is he blaming Damian for turning over the evidence that has taken down the Black Jacks?”
“We’ve done our best to keep Sophie’s name out of the case. And no one else on my team knows who she is. I don’t believe the Black Jack know Sophie is involved. At least not yet. But I do believe Pepper is going after Damian and other members of the Devil’s Renegades.”
Ben closed his eyes and rubbed his chin with his fist. His face felt scratchy since he’d been growing out his beard. Sophie said she loved the feel of his beard against her cheek when he kissed her. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll keep a lookout–”
A loud popping sound made him turn. From his second-story window he saw flames shoot out of the church’s bell tower. “Gotta go, Charlie. There’s a fire.”
At four o’clock in the morning, Ben returned to his apartment. He was exhausted, filthy, and worried about Sophie. The firefighters had put out the flames, and the fire inspector was on his way. But on the church’s back door, Ben found graffiti–a spray painted image portraying the Black Jacks MC logo of a skeleton riding a motorcycle.
Below the logo, someone had spray painted the word Sophie.
He texted Charlie as he threw winter clothes into a duffel bag and grabbed the keys to his truck. Then he sent messages to his deputies, all five of his brothers, and his uncle, Gage.
His last call was to Lotto who picked upon the first ring. “Brother.” Ben hurried down the stairs and locked the door behind him. “I need a favor.”
After laying out his plan, Lotto said, “Yes.”
Relieved, Ben got into his truck and headed for the mountains. It was time to take care of this threat to Sophie so they could get on with their lives.
