Chance Encounter (God's Reapers MC Book 1) (8 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Olivia strode into work Monday morning with a confidence she did not feel. She was falling hard for a biker, for a member of the gang that she was supposed to be investigating. Sleeping with David had been the dumbest, hottest, most passionate thing she had ever done. She needed to go and tell the detectives about it. She was a professional, and she had done something unprofessional. But with every step her confidence faltered. What if telling them ruined her reputation? What if she turned into a joke?

She also knew that if she told the detectives she could never see David again, ever. She could never run her hands through his blond hair, never look into his bright blue eyes, never feel his tongue on her skin as he kissed her neck, and never call out his name over and over again. She had told him in no uncertain terms, never again. But she
wanted
to make that same mistake again—as many times as she could. She wanted to go The Gray Lamp and see David there waiting for her. She wanted to skip the drinks and go right home. She wanted to fall back into bed with him. But she couldn’t do that. And she definitely couldn’t do it if she told the brass about it.

So it wasn’t strange when her feet avoided the hallway that led to the detectives’ offices and towards the garage instead. Maybe tomorrow things would be different, maybe by tomorrow her body will forget about David’s, maybe by tomorrow she would stop missing him. Tomorrow then, and if not tomorrow, then the day after. She knew that someday it would fade. In the meantime, she just needed to get David Creely out of her head.

She slipped into the driver’s side of her seat and waited for Lance. Olivia was early; she should be talking to the detectives right now. Instead, she was going over the events from Friday night in her head, remembering the way his hands had slid up her thighs, his tongue in her mouth. Her eyes were closed, as she let the memory sweep over her mind. She reveled in it until Lance finally arrived, climbing into the passenger seat and buckling his seatbelt before asking about coffee.

Lance babbled about his weekend as they drove, with Olivia fading in and out as he spoke about a pool party and some movie he had watched. She was grateful that he was so chatty, she was worried that any awkward silence would result in her blurting out the words: I hooked up with a member of God’s Reapers this weekend. And that would be bad.

They had pulled in for coffee and were sitting for a moment in their squad car letting the iced coffee do its magic when Lance spoke up.

“Huh, that’s weird. Olivia, you see that?”

Olivia turned and craned her neck. She was looking down Fourteenth Street where a pair of bikers seemed to be looking at her. One of them had binoculars and had them pointed at the car. They must have seen that they were spotted because they quickly turned tail and ran.

“Let’s see where they go,” Olivia said, starting the car. She was surprised that Lance gave no reply; he just tightened his seatbelt and gave her a curt nod. Maybe he was actually coming around.

She left the siren and the cherry off and drove down Fourteenth Street in the same direction the bikers had gone. As they drove, the streets became more barren. There were no people out, just brick walls for the rows and rows of warehouses that sat on the north side of town. They drove, not knowing what they were looking for, not knowing what was going on. But every now and again Olivia would catch a glimpse of the bikers or hear their engines, and they continued to slowly and quietly follow them.

And then they were almost ten miles out of town when Olivia figured out what was going on.

“Shit,” she said stopping the car.

“What?” Lance asked.

“They’re tricking us,” she responded, turning the car around and heading back into town. “They’re leading us away from something else.”

“Are you sure?” Lance asked.

“No, but watching two cops through binoculars is a pretty obvious move to get our attention. Plus, we’ve been following them for ten miles now. They could have lost us at anytime, but they’ve stayed just far enough away to keep us on their tail.”

“What do you think is happening instead?” Lance asked.

“No idea. Let’s drive the neighborhood and see if we notice anything.”

They drove back down Fourteenth, but everything was quiet. No shouts or cries or gunfire, just a quiet Monday morning. But something was happening, Olivia could sense it. There was something going on; she just needed to figure out what. On a whim, she turned down Marigold Street. They drove for a few blocks and saw nothing, and then at Eighteenth Street, she saw a strange sight. It took her a moment to recognize the woman; it was Hillary Sweetie, but she wasn’t alone. A man had her pressed up against a building, and he was whispering something furiously into her ear.

Olivia hit the cherry and picked up the handset. “Dispatch, this is Sierra Five, domestic dispute on the street, stopping to investigate, go ahead.”

“Copy, Sierra Five. Do you need backup? Go ahead.”

“Negative, dispatch. No backup needed at this time.”

The couple had split apart and were now glaring at the car. Hillary’s arms were crossed against her chest, and she looked mad.

“Hi, Hillary. Everything alright?” Olivia asked, as she stepped towards the couple. She didn’t recognize the man. He was Caucasian, in his thirties, with dark, wavy hair.

“We’re fine, officer,” the man spit. “You can be on your way.”

“Sir, please step to the side. I need to speak to Ms. Sweetie myself,” Olivia said. But the older man only planted his feet and stared at her.

“It’s fine,” Hillary sniffed. “Ricky was just being a real jerk. But he didn’t mean nothing bad by it.” It was then that David Creely came walking around the building. He came to a full stop when he saw Olivia. It took him only a second to collect himself and stride over to the couple.

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

“Sir, this doesn’t concern you. Please step back and away.” Olivia said, surprised by the gruffness in her voice.
What is David doing here?

“It doesn’t seem like it concerns you either, officer,” David countered, taking a step closer to Olivia. “No one’s called the police, and Hillary says she’s fine. You can’t just go around harassing people on the street.”

“Step aside, sir,” Olivia said, staring straight into David’s eyes. “You, too, please,” she said to Mike. For a moment, no one moved. The only sound was Hillary’s sniffles and the low roar of a faraway motorcycle. David was only a foot or two away from Olivia; he was close enough that she could smell his cologne. Her mind couldn’t help but return to Friday night, to his hands traveling up her thigh, his mouth on her neck. But Olivia Waters was not the type of woman who would throw everything away for a man. She could see Lance next to her, tense and nervous, his eyes jumping from Olivia to David and back again, his hand hovering over his gun.

“It’s fine, David. Don’t get yourself into any trouble on my account,” Rick said. “We’ll wait over here, officer. Please, take your time.” For a moment, David didn’t move. He continued to stare at Olivia, and she at him. He looked angry, but it was more frustration than anger, as if he had something he needed to tell her but couldn’t. And there was still longing there when he looked at her. She could see that he remembered their night together just as well as she had.

Finally, David stepped back and then away, going over to the corner to stand with Rick. He held his hands behind his back, but the two men did not speak to each other. They just stood by a tall brick wall and watched Olivia.

“Everything’s fine, Officer Waters. I swear it. It’s real nice that you always come and check on me. I really appreciate it. But me and Rick were just talking. It wasn’t nothing bad. I swear it.”

Olivia looked at the woman, at the bags under her eyes, the bruises on her arms, her cracked and dry skin, her hair a dirty stringy mess. There was desperation in her voice; she was desperate for Olivia to believe her. But there was something else going on here; Olivia was sure of it, and David was in the middle of it. When the time came, would she be able to do it? Would she be able to put David in handcuffs and take him to jail? Would be she be willing to testify against him?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

David could feel the anger radiating from Rick. He looked calm and relaxed, but underneath his calm mask was a furious man who would need to lash out. And he would lash out at Olivia, that much was clear. What was she doing here? The boys were supposed to lead her and Lance away and keep them away. The truck filled with the shipment from Mexico had arrived without issue and was currently locked in the warehouse, a place the cops couldn’t enter without a warrant. Olivia must have figured out that she was being distracted and come back to town; it must have been dumb luck that led her down Marigold Street.

Rick, stupid Rick getting into a fight with Mike’s newest side-piece. David was furious with Rick. How could he have done something so stupid as to get into a fight with a woman right outside his own warehouse? It was dumb and cocky, and might just get him arrested.

At least Hillary knew what she was doing. She was convincing Olivia that she was fine, that everything was ok. David could see Olivia softening with every false promise from Hillary that everything was ok. Finally, Olivia nodded and agreed; she turned back around and looked at David and then Mike. Her eyes were unreadable, her face a blank mask.

“Don’t make us come back here,” she said, turning and walking to her car with Lance following behind. Neither David nor Rick moved. They just watched as the officers got into their car and drove slowly down the street—until they were finally out of sight.

“God dammit, David,” Rick said, his voice dangerously quiet. “Get out of my sight,” Rick spit at Hillary.

“What about my stuff, you promised,” Hillary whined desperately.

“Hil, go,” David said quietly. He needed to get everyone out of here, or at least inside before Olivia came back. He followed Mike inside, staying a few feet away from the furious leader.

“I put you in charge of keeping the cops off my back. So what the fuck was that?” Rick demanded, his voice was getting louder and louder. They had entered the warehouse and his voice was echoing.  The front room of the warehouse had been set up to resemble a sort of reception area. There was a desk with a computer and a few chairs but no one was ever actually sitting in them. It existed solely for the cops and the IRS. They walked through an almost empty office, just a desk with a computer and old shag carpeting. From there, they walked back into the actual warehouse. The front half of it was filled with automotive supplies. Parts to carburetors and other components sat on shelves, but they were just a ruse. Behind that was where the real money was made. Hidden in the back were about twenty workers weighing and packaging their newest shipment.

“Why is there a cop tapping on my shoulder when I’m having a conversation with a girl, David?” Rick demanded.

“I’m working on it, Rick. She won’t be bought. I led her out town when the shipment came; she had no idea about that. And that’s what I’m supposed to be hiding from them. The drugs, not you.”

“Don’t you mistake me, boy,” Rick said, towering over David. “I am this club. You will do what I say, when I say, and when I tell you to keep the cops away that means from everything, myself included. I thought you could handle this, David. But now you tell me that you’re “leading the cops away” distracting them like this is some fucking movie. I want the cops taken care of permanently. That tall bitch might not take the money, but the one who replaces her will. Take her out and don’t let anyone find the body.”

David felt the world spin around him. He had messed this up. From start to finish he had done this badly. He had let Olivia worm her way into his head. He had treated her differently than other cops, but she had been different. Olivia worked too hard; she cared too much. She answered calls other cops ignored. Instead of hiding away from danger or the more difficult calls, she sought them out. And now it was going to get her killed. He should have offered her a set amount of money, enough that she would have to consider it. But that would have been pointless; she would never have taken a bribe, never.

“Taking out a cop is kind of big deal, Rick,” David said. “It’s the kind of thing they don’t turn a blind eye to. If we take her out, it will only raise suspicion on us. Doing this brings them right to our doorstep.”

“Not if you do your job right. Take the girl out to the desert, kill her, and leave her there. There’s nothing that links her to us. Nothing.”

“She works our streets. She’s answered about three calls—all related to Hillary. That’s a connection.”

“It’s a lead and barely one at that, and if you don’t tell and I don’t tell, then no one will ever know.”

No one would ever know. Hardworking, beautiful Olivia would be killed and no one would ever know why or how or when. Her body would never be found. It was wrong that her life was going to end like that, a bullet to the back of the head, no body for the funeral.

“You took an oath when you joined this club, David,” Rick said. He was done yelling. He was staring over the floor, at the silent workers down there. “You swore to put this club before all else, before family, before love, before women. You swore a blood oath that you would be faithful to this club until your death. Do you remember?”

“Yes,” David managed to whisper.

“Hasn’t this club been good to you, David? Hasn’t it always been there when you needed it? Hasn’t it sheltered you, cared for you, healed you when you were sick?”

“Yes,” David answered.

“The club has always been there for you, David. I have always been there for you. Now we need you. Promise me that we will not find you wanting, David. That our faith in you has not been misplaced.”

“It hasn’t,” David said.

“Good. Call me when it’s finished. But remember the lines aren’t secured,” Rick said. He put one hand on David’s shoulder and held it there for a moment before walking down to the floor.

David remained frozen in place. He placed his hands on the railing in front of him to steady his shaking legs. His strong hands gripped the railing tighter and tighter. He wanted to rip it out of the wall; he wanted to rip the railing out and send it right through Rick’s gut. Why did Rick need to argue in the middle of the day where anyone could see? Why had Olivia traveled down that street instead of any other? All of his work, all of his planning had meant nothing. The one thing he didn’t want to happen had just happened.

Bile rose in his throat; he felt like he was going to be sick. He loosened his grip on the railing and let his head hang down. How could he have let this happen? How did he let this spiral so far out of control? He wished that he could go back in time. He would go back and do everything differently. He wouldn’t have flirted with Olivia. He would have offered her tens of thousands of dollars, and he would have convinced her to take it. No matter what the cost would have been, no matter how long they argued, he would have convinced her.

He would never have slept with her. He would never have allowed her to take him to her home. He would never have sat and had a drink with her. He wouldn’t have thought about her, dreamed about her, fantasized about her. He would have kept his distance and kept it professional. Nothing in his life had ever had stakes this high, and look at the mess that he had made. The workers on the floor kept glancing up at him. He wished he was down there, still doing the grunt work—no responsibilities, no thought needed. Just weights and measurements. Things that did not require finesse or subterfuge—just measure the right amount and move on. But now, instead of measuring things in grams and ounces, he measured them in the price of a person’s soul. His soul was up for grabs now; Olivia’s was already sacrificed to God’s Reapers.