Outlaw: Screaming Eagles MC (2 page)

Chapter Three

They made him wait in the interrogation room alone. Falcon had expected it, but it was still unnerving. His hands were still cuffed and the cuffs went through a steel half circle embedded in the table trapping him. His feet were also still shackled. He could barely move. If he had to scratch his nose he needed to bring his nose down to his hands in order to do so. It was dehumanizing and humiliating.

He was staring at his own reflection in what he knew was a two way mirror. He took in his reflection, his dark hair in need of a cut and his dark brown eyes so dark they almost obscured the pupil. He looked intimidating, which was the point. But he knew he wouldn’t intimidate the cops. Was someone or, perhaps, many someones on the other side watching him, laughing at him? There was no way to know, and the not knowing was driving him crazy. There were no clocks in the room and no way for Falcon to pass the time other than to think about what he had done and what was going to happen next.

He had been arrested and his life was over. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, everything he had ever worked for or been proud of was gone. His life was wiped away and that act was another person’s victory. It was Grace Santiago’s victory. The tall brunette with curves for days. That was the most infuriating part: every time Falcon remembered the bitch who had arrested him she wore less and less clothing. And then in his mind he was taking the rest off with his teeth and then he had to stop himself before his imagination went any further.

“So, your name really is Falcon Marks,” Grace said as she stepped into the interrogation room, a file in her hands. “I thought you were just pulling my leg.”

“Yeah, people tell me that all the time. Now why don’t you forget the chit-chat and get me a phone so I can call my lawyer.”

“Oh, Falcon, do you really think that’s the best idea? Your prints have been found at dozens of crime scenes and whoever you’re working with has not kept their mouth shut. Narcotics, homicide, and missing persons have all heard of you. Now, if you really want a lawyer, you can have one. But I think we both know what a lawyer is going to say. He’s going to say take the offer, make the deal. Even if it’s a bad deal, they don’t care. You’re a biker with about twenty bucks to his name, they aren’t going to care about you.”

“And you will?” Falcon demanded. He glanced up at her and almost regretted it. The raid on the processing center had brought a flush of color to her cheeks, her green eyes were bright and lively and her long hair cascading over her shoulders.

“Fuck no,” Grace said, looking him right in the eye. “I don’t care about you, and I don’t want to help you. But I do want to arrest as many members of your gang as I can,” she said.

“You’re wasting your time,” Falcon spit at her. “Any Screaming Eagles you arrested would rather die than talk to you.”

“But you’re not going to die, Falcon,” she said. Her voice was sugary sweet as she laid the folder on the table. She was resting her fingertips on the table and her delicate and long fingers caressed the table as she circled closer to him. “You’re not going to die,” she repeated. “You’re going to jail where they will be in the business of keeping you alive. Sure there will be other gangs in there, lots of rival gang members, and sure they’re going to beat the crap out of you every day for the rest of your life, but the doctors in the prisons will just patch you up and send you right back out into max seg. You’re looking at twenty years of that, minimum.”

Falcon went cold at that number. Minimum of twenty years, that mean that Sophie would be twenty-two by the time he finally got out. She would have no memory of him other than that of the convict who was never around. He would miss twenty birthdays, her high school graduation, he would miss teaching her how to swim and ride a bike. But he kept his mouth shut. He was a Screaming Eagle and he couldn’t talk. It went against everything he stood for.

“You think nobody talks,” Grace asked. She walked over and stood behind his chair leaning over to whisper into his ear. “Everybody talks. Everybody.” She straightened again and walked away from him, looking into the mirror and fixing her hair.

“You know who talks the most? The bosses. The higher they are, the faster they talk. You’re a foot soldier Falcon, and a poorly paid one at that. Are you really going to throw your life away for some boss? How did they divide the cuts from a job? Never mind, I don’t need you to tell me. I’ve heard it a hundred times. It’s a dangerous late night ride, or maybe even a raid against another gang. You’re a Screaming Eagle out there on your bike, or in the streets, fighting hard, guns blazing for your club, but where’s the boss? He’s nowhere to be found, safe and sound back at the clubhouse. And when the time comes to divide up the goods you’ve worked so hard for, who takes the biggest cut? The boys on the ground? No, it’s the fat men sitting in the clubhouse all day. You work and they reap the rewards.”

Falcon was fighting to stay silent. His jaw was clenched so tight it was aching. He wanted to speak, but he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. He wanted to scream at her to shut up, but, at the same time, a part of him knew that she was right.

“But I’m not like the bosses, Falcon. I’m on your side. I don’t want to arrest you and send you to jail. No offense man, but you’re small potatoes. I don’t want a foot soldier. I want a general and you can give me that.”

Flacon looked up at her again, confusion in his eyes. What was she saying? What was she offering?

“The deal is this: either you work for me as an informant and wear a wire, or you go to jail for the rest of your life. You will only see the sun from the tiny window in your cell and you will only have other convicts to talk to. You will spend the rest of your life in a shitty federal prison. What about your daughter, Falcon?”

She reached over and flipped open the folder and there was sweet Sophie staring back at him. The picture had been taken at the park. Sophie was with her mother, Falcon’s ex, Kelly. She was laughing at something, her smile was infectious and he could have stared at her picture all day.

“You really think your ex is going to drive this kid across the country and spend all day waiting in a security line just so you can spend thirty minutes talking to her through a phone and a thick piece of Plexiglas? You want this girl to grow up without her father?”

The Screaming Eagles or Sophie? His daughter or his gang? He wanted to be the kind of man who fell on his sword, who died instead of turning a rat. But he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in jail. He had promised himself he wouldn't turn out like his old man, over and over again he had promised himself and Kelly and Sophie, and now here he was in handcuffs with a twenty year sentence hanging over his head.

“No jail time,” Grace said and Falcon whipped his head up and stared at her, his mouth hanging open. “Here’s the deal,” she said and she gently moved Sophie’s picture aside and showed him the deal drawn up by the DA. If he could get real, incriminating info on the Screaming Eagles he would be free of any and all charges that related to the gang. “Don’t die for them, Falcon. Don’t waste your life on them. They’re drug dealing scum, they’re not worth it. Think of your daughter, don’t you want to be there for her? You can be, just say yes and help us take down the Screaming Eagles. You could be a hero, Falcon.”

He stared at the offer from the DA and the picture of Sophie. This was his way out of the gang. He could leave the lifestyle behind for good and be a real father to his daughter. In the end it was no choice at all, blood was thicker than water and oil.

“I’ll do it,” he said looking up at Grace. “Now will you please take these damn cuffs off? My leg is itching like crazy.”

Chapter Four

“But I need to go back now,” Falcon said staring at Grace. He ordered himself to look into her green eyes and not let his mind, or his eyes, wander any lower.

Grace put both of her hands on the table and leaned closer to Falcon. “I need incriminating information,” she said slowly. “Real names, real places, and real numbers. Nothing vague and nothing in code, you only get your freedom if I make some big arrests. And if you think you can betray me, if you think you can double cross me, I will not hesitate to put two in the back of your skull.”

He couldn’t help but notice the way her breasts rose and fell as she spoke; they heaved when she became animated and Falcon had to resist the urge to reach out and touch her. Not that he could, he was still cuffed to the table.

“How about you give the first show of faith?” he asked raising his shackled hands as high as he could. Grace looked at him for a solid minute, she looked at him up and down as she decided something and then finally she pulled the key off her belt and un-cuffed his hands and then the shackles on his feet. Falcon rubbed his wrists and flexed his ankle. They had been weighing him down and he felt freer without them.

“I want to know what deals you have coming up and who they’re with. You’ll need to match names to the voices, so we’ll set up some lines of communication that won’t get you caught.” She was deep in thought, her green eyes staring at the ceiling as she mentally began to tally up the many Screaming Eagles she would arrest.

“Look, the only big deal we had going was the one you busted up. That was a lot of quality MDMA we were moving. It was a high percentage and good stuff. But I don’t know where it was going. Our orders were to take it down to the shipping yards and leave the goods in an empty container.”

“Which container?” Grace asked.

“Don’t know. The lead driver would normally send a text when he arrived and then the boss would respond with the shipping container number.”

“It changed every time. That’s smart,” she said with an almost respectful nod.

“Well, that was months of work and you ruined it. I don’t know what else they have planned or what they’re going to do.” That was only partially true. Falcon knew of an apartment where a lot of the MDMA and other goods were stored. But he wasn’t ready to give anything to Grace yet. She hadn’t earned it and he still didn’t trust her.

“Fine. Then let me tell you how this is going to work. You work for me; I am the boss and I am in charge. I don’t care what you think or what your opinions are, you will do what I say. My captain and I will be the only people who know you’re working for us. No one else will know, so don’t go getting arrested because I cannot get you out. I’m not giving you any money, weapons, or transportation. We’ll drive you back to your bike in the woods and that’s it. You will always be in contact with me and you will not ignore me. If I contact you, you will respond within the hour and I don’t care what you’re doing or what time it is. You answer to me, and don’t forget it.”

Falcon resisted a smile as he looked at her reflection in the mirror. He had heard the term tough as nails before, but didn't understand it until now. But this girl was tough as nails. She was nothing like the women he was used to. There were always groupies hanging around the club and Falcon had never longed for company. But something about those barflies left him feeling cold and it had been a long time since he’d been with a real woman.

He wanted a tough woman, a strong woman, someone who could be a match for him. All the groupies at the club were sad and desperate. Most of them were addicted to something and they didn’t want a man; they wanted a drug connection. They were flighty and not very smart. The club members walked all over the groupies and treated them like second-class citizens. They used them, hit them, cheated on them and the girls always came crawling back for more. But it was really the drugs; it was the meth and coke they came back for; the men were just how they got it.

But Detective Grace Santiago would never put up with that. She would never come crawling on her hands and knees to any man, unless she was the one who wanted to do it. Falcon could easily imagine what kissing her would be like. It would be rough and fierce and filled with passion. He could see his hands all over her body, his fingers digging into her tanned skin, his hands wrapped up in her hair. She was a challenge and one he wanted to test.

“So what’s your deal?” Falcon asked. “How long have you been a cop?”

“Why?” Grace demanded.

“If I’m putting my life in someone’s hands I need to make sure it’s not some green kid fresh out of the academy.”

“I’ve been on the force for eight years. I made Detective after two. Before this I fought gangs in Chicago and this police department brought me here specifically to take out the biker gangs. Trust me, Falcon; I know what I’m doing.

I’ll bet,
Falcon thought, and he opened his mouth to say it and then thought better of it.

“So what’s the deal,” he asked, nodding towards her hand. “No ring. What’s wrong, you can’t find a man?”

“Please,” Santiago said, rolling her eyes. “I can have any man I want. But I don’t have time for dating or being somebody’s mommy and I have no time for little boys like you who think breaking the law is some kind of game.”

“It’s not a game,” Falcon said, suddenly serious. “No one ever said it would be a game. Being a biker is life or death. You’ll live fast and you’ll die young and you know it when you sign up. Bikers don’t retire; they die.”

She nodded at him, taken back by his sudden sincerity. “It’s not a game for me either. So stop asking me what I do when I’m not busting biker skulls. You and I are not friends; we are people with similar goals.”

She handed him a pen and Falcon looked at it for a moment and then reread the document one more time. But it was written in plain spoken English and made sense and with a deep breath he signed it.

“I know this isn’t easy, but you’re doing the right thing. Those loyalty oaths they make you take, it’s a form of control. They’re using you.”

“And what about your oaths?” Falcon asked.

She nodded and said, “If this forced ever asked me to do something that would harm the innocent I would hand in my gun and badge and walk away. I took the oath because it’s about protecting and serving and that’s what I want to do. Once the job isn’t that anymore, then the oath doesn’t matter and I walk away. I control it; it does not control me.”

He wanted her. He couldn't help it. Falcon knew it was crazy and wrong and would never happen, but holy God did he want her right then and there. She was tough and smart and knew how to ride a motorcycle. She was just the kind of woman he had been looking for. When she spoke her voice was infused with confidence and passion and he knew that passion would carry over into the rest of her life. This was not a girl who did anything half-assed. Hell, this wasn't a girl; this was a woman. A red blooded American woman standing just a few inches from him, he could have reached out and grabbed her if he wasn’t sure she would throw him into prison if he tried.

Falcon hated cops. He always had. They were cheaters and liars and thieves, more corrupt than the people they arrested. But he had never met a cop like Grace Santiago. He looked at her, taking in her long legs, her sharply defined waist, her hourglass figure, and then her breasts, pert and firm underneath her grey dress shirt. They were pressing against the small white buttons, straining the fabric like they were trying to escape. He decided, right then and there, that he was going to have Grace Santiago. He wanted her and he was getting the feeling she wanted him. He could smell the subtle perfume she was wearing and he was imagining what she would taste like and what her hair would look like in the morning. He didn’t care that she was a cop; he was going to have Grace Santiago.