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My mind was racing – maybe there was still time to stop it –
“When’d you do it?”
“Soon as I found out – little over an hour ago.”
“What did you tell him to do to her?” I raged.
“To get the answers out of her,” Lou said, in a tone of voice that let me know exactly how stupid he thought I was.
“How?!”
“It’s Roach. He’s creative, I’m sure he’ll find a way.”
Roach was one of Lou’s boys, and one of the worst scumbags in the entire club. He’d twice been charged with rape a decade ago, but the charges had been mysteriously dropped after some strong-arming from the old leadership. Besides being a brutal asshole, he was well-known in the MC for two other things: his love of betting on dog fights, and his fascination with knives. He liked to gripe that he never got to use his collection anymore after I became president.
I would have never let him patch in to the Riders, ever – but he was ten years older than me, and joined before I’d even set foot in Richards.
The thought of that fucking degenerate anywhere near Fiona –
“GET HIM ON THE PHONE RIGHT NOW AND CALL HIM OFF!” I yelled.
Lou half-frowned, half-smiled. “What the fuck?! Just how good of a blowjob does that bitch give, anyway?”
“Call him, Lou,” I said, furious.
“She’s a great-looking piece of ass, I’ll give you that, but – ”
I started towards Lou threateningly.
“Hey,” he barked, pointing one finger at me in a Cut that shit out gesture. “Your judgment has gone out the fuckin’ window, Jack.”
“You’re the one siccing that psycho on an innocent – ”
“Innocent my ass. She’s a mole.”
“You have no proof of that!”
“She was lookin’ at that dead stripper – what’s-her-name – in that picture on your wall. Was askin’ all sorts of questions about her, wasn’t she,” Lou said in an insinuating voice.
Alison Levitt.
My stomach turned. I had forgotten all about Fiona’s fascination with that photograph yesterday morning.
“That doesn’t prove anything,” I said, a little less forcefully.
“Hell of another coincidence, though, isn’t it?” Lou smirked.
“She was just jealous – ”
“Which is why she happened to skip over a dozen hotter bitches to focus on just… that… one.”
“It still doesn’t prove – ”
“And now we’ve got the fuckin’ DEA or FBI on our asses. The coincidences just keep piling up. So don’t tell me she’s not a fuckin’ mole.”
“What if she’s not? What if she’s completely innocent?”
Lou shrugged. “So what if she is?”
