Riding Dirty (32 page)

“You can buy my silence.”

Rather than being offended by her suggestion, Bill seemed intrigued. Now she was speaking his language. “With what?”

“With Cole. You’ve already lost him anyway.”

Cole stared at his uncle, not disputing her claim.

“You don’t want to kill us, and he doesn’t want to betray you. So give him to me. Leave your gun and walk away. We’ll say you were never here. I’ll identify Rylan and Gonzo as my husband’s murderers.”

Bill’s eyes glinted with cold intelligence. She waited for his answer, afraid to breathe. She didn’t like the idea of a dangerous criminal going free, but dirty deals were made all the time. The system wasn’t perfect. Neither was she, for that matter. She’d done a lot of dirty things in her pursuit of vengeance. But she didn’t need it anymore. She needed Cole.

“I love your nephew, Mr. Shepherd. I can’t forget what you did, but I can stay quiet. As long as you promise not to come after us.”

After a long moment, he nodded his acceptance. “For what it’s worth, that home invasion was the lowest thing I’ve ever done,” Bill said. “I had to go along with it to seal our alliance, but I didn’t want Gonzo to kill you.”

“What about my husband?” she asked.

Bill shook his head. “He’d been uncooperative from the start. During the struggle, he ripped off my mask. He’d seen me at the gallery the week of the motorcycle show. I couldn’t let him live.”

A sharp pain lanced through her chest. Although she loved Cole with all her heart, it still hurt to think of Philip.

Bill used the hem of his shirt to wipe his fingerprints from the gun. Then he approached Cole and gave it to him. “You’ll have to fire it. Your hands need gunshot residue.”

Cole aimed the weapon at the sky and fired at an angle. Mia flinched at the sound. Then he lowered his arms, standing still as his uncle hugged him goodbye. They didn’t say anything more to each other, but the exchange was difficult to watch. It was clear that Cole loved this awful man. And the affection was mutual. Bill was a ruthless criminal with almost no conscience. Even so, he’d risked everything to save Cole.

Mia ambled to her feet and moved gingerly toward Cole. They stood side by side, watching the dark king disappear into the night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

C
OLE USED HIS
knife to slice through the plastic tie at Mia’s wrists.

She returned the favor for him. Then she was in his arms, and they were safe. Tears burned in his eyes at the thought of how close he’d come to losing her. The moment Gonzo recognized her, Cole had known she was doomed. He’d risked getting his throat cut by Dimebag to get to her.

“I can’t believe you’re okay,” he said, pressing his lips to the top of her head. He held her for a long time, his chest tight with emotion. Then he pulled back to study her face. She had an ugly scrape on her cheek. “Who did this?”

“Gonzo,” she said, casting a wary glance in the dead man’s direction.

Cole wanted to reanimate Gonzo’s corpse and kill him again for this infraction.

“He was trying to shoot you, and you were busy. So I shoved him.”

Instead of scolding her for saving him, he wrapped his arms around her trembling body and stroked her hair. “I love you, Mia.”

She looked up at him, clutching his waist. “You do?”

He swallowed back his tears and nodded. He didn’t deserve her, and God knew she could do a hell of a lot better than him. But she returned his feelings, and she seemed determined to stay together. She was the smart one. Who was he to argue?

“I love you, too,” she said, her eyes shining.

Maybe she was crazy. Maybe they were both crazy. Cole didn’t care. They were alive, and they were together.

“You don’t have to stay,” she said.

“Where would I go?”

“Mexico.”

“You’d come with me?”

She wiped the tears from her cheeks, sniffling. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“If that’s what you want. I kind of like being an outlaw. We can ride off into the sunset. Or the sunrise.”

He couldn’t believe she was willing to give up so much to be with him. Her career, her mother, her comfortable home. Her peace of mind. The man Cole used to be would have taken her up on the offer without a second thought. The man he was now hesitated. She wasn’t cut out for living on the edge and watching her back. She’d spent the past three years in hiding. She’d had enough of that misery. He didn’t want to put her in any more danger. He wanted to protect her and keep her safe.

Being an outlaw didn’t appeal to him as much as it used to, either. He liked breaking the rules, but he didn’t love paying the price. He wouldn’t mind some stability. They could settle down in a quiet place and grow old together. Or at least grow
up
. He was ready for that. He didn’t have to work on a construction site forever. He could save his money to get his commercial license. She could write a book.

They could be happy.

Running away at this point would just put off the inevitable. He’d get caught eventually. He had to face the music now and take his knocks like a man. There was a legal upside to cooperating with the cops. They might offer him a deal. If they locked him up and threw away the key, he’d be devastated. But Mia could move on. It would be less painful for both of them to make a clean break.

Cole had to do the unthinkable and go legit.

“I’d love to take you away, but I can’t run forever,” he said. “If I turn myself in, I might have a chance at a real future with you. It wouldn’t be anything fancy. Just you and me, free and clean, somewhere safe.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said, her face crumpling.

“Then why are you crying?”

She cast her gaze toward the horrifying scene around them. He could read the concern in her troubled expression. They’d just made a very narrow escape. She was worried that their actions here would haunt them. Dirty Forever wasn’t just a motto; it was a way of life. Getting out unscathed wasn’t easy. Just ask Ace.

Cole spent the next few minutes wiping down the SUV with a handkerchief. Then he studied the hard-packed sand for boot marks. The terrain worked to their advantage, making it almost impossible to leave prints.

He went over the story with Mia. Dimebag and Gonzo had found them at the summit. Mia and Cole had been brought by gunpoint to this remote location. Cole went crazy after Gonzo pulled Mia out of the vehicle. Cole started fighting Dimebag. Mia struggled with Gonzo. Cole defeated Dimebag, took his gun and shot Gonzo in the back. Although it was Bill’s gun, not Dimebag’s, Cole assumed it was unregistered.

The story was close to the truth and easy to remember. Mia wasn’t a great liar, but she could be vague. She’d peed her pants and panicked. No one would expect her to describe the events in photographic detail. As long as there was no evidence placing Wild Bill at the scene, they’d be okay.

There was a cell phone in the SUV that Mia used to call WITSEC. The situation had to be handled with kid gloves. They couldn’t avoid Damon Vargas. Reporting him for misconduct would only draw more suspicion.

Thirty minutes later, squad cars descended on the scene in a cloud of dust. Two uniformed officers forced Cole to the ground and handcuffed him, despite Mia’s protests. He didn’t mind. He expected this treatment.

They were taken to separate cars to be interviewed while crime scene investigators combed over the scene. Mia sat in the backseat of a squad car, trembling with anxiety. She told the same story over and over again. By the third time, even she believed it. She had to own up to her affair with Cole, but she didn’t disclose every sordid detail.

The detectives she spoke to seemed satisfied. They exchanged a few smirks over her unprofessional behavior, which didn’t surprise her. Men in law enforcement were no less sexist than the general population. Sometimes, they were decidedly more so. The two detectives left her in the backseat with a bottle of water.

Damon arrived in his unmarked vehicle a few minutes later. She watched as he inspected the bodies and the SUV, her heart racing. After chatting with the crime scene investigators, he joined her. He was wearing a wrinkled suit again, and his eyes were bloodshot. He smelled like the breath mints he used to mask the scent of alcohol. It was late, so he’d probably been called in from home. Or whatever dark corner he inhabited during his off hours.

Mia took a sip of water, saying nothing. Another squad car drove away with Cole in the backseat, still handcuffed.

“I was worried about you,” Damon said.

She believed him. Maybe he’d been more worried about his career, which was the only thing he seemed able to hold on to, but he cared about her. Their relationship was similar to Cole’s with his uncle. Damon was a ruthless manipulator, flirting with disaster. She hoped he’d get help before it was too late.

“You haven’t mentioned the bug.”

“I figured it was confidential.”

He smiled without humor at her mild descriptor. A better one would have been
illegal
. “Your husband’s murderers are both dead. Congratulations.”

Mia felt no triumph whatsoever, but she had gained a sense of closure. She knew why Bill had killed Philip. A part of her wished her husband had cooperated during the robbery. Another part recognized that he’d done what came naturally to him. He hadn’t meant to risk her life, or endanger his own. He’d just reacted in a certain way, and so had she. So did everyone.

“I’m assuming I won’t be allowed to practice forensic psychology again.”

“That’s a fair assumption.”

“We won’t be working together.”

“No,” he agreed. “I’ll miss you.”

She studied him for a moment, uncomfortable in his presence. He needed to move on, not pine away for a woman he couldn’t have. Or the mother he’d lost too soon.

“You should see someone about your nightmares.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Will I get relocated?”

“I don’t know.”

“What about Cole?”

“They’re going to claim the two men killed each other in a drug deal gone wrong. It’s cheaper and safer to circulate a fake story.”

“Will he be charged with any crimes?”

Damon rubbed a hand over his mouth, deliberating.

“Let’s make a deal,” Mia said. “I won’t say anything about our last conversation, and you pull some strings for Cole.”

“I can probably get the parole violations dismissed.”

“If you don’t, you’ll be sorry.”

“I’m already sorry,” he said, looking away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

30 days later

M
IA STEPPED OUT
of the retirement home and into the sunlight.

Cole was waiting for her in the parking lot. She’d wanted to say goodbye to her mother before they left town. He was standing next to his bike, wearing his typical riding gear. Half helmet, sunglasses, jeans, motorcycle boots. The only difference was his leather. He had on full sleeves, having retired his cut.

They’d reunited yesterday morning, after spending a month apart. Damon hadn’t filed any charges, but the DA felt it was necessary for Cole to spend some time in the county jail. It provided him with an alibi, which was convenient. According to court documents, he’d been picked up the same day he’d destroyed his ankle monitor. Getting incarcerated also provided him with protection and a believable reason to disappear from the area. The official story was that Cole would return to Chino to finish his sentence in solitary confinement. In reality, he’d be living in a halfway house in Northern California.

Cole had bought his freedom with information about White Lightning’s involvement in the kidnapping of a presidential candidate’s daughter. He had to make himself available for general consulting about motorcycle clubs while he was on parole. It wasn’t much, but the DA seemed satisfied. Thanks to Cole, there were two fewer dangerous criminals on the loose.

White Lightning had been abuzz with rumors about Dimebag Arno and Gonzo Lowe. Word on the street was that the two men had quarreled over drug money. Gonzo had stabbed Dimebag in the neck. Dimebag had drawn his gun and shot Gonzo. They’d both fallen and bled to death.

This version of events was accepted as truth. Gonzo had kept his collaboration with Bill a secret, and Dimebag had been struggling with meth addiction, skimming off the top. It was no surprise that he’d come to a bad end.

Wild Bill Shepherd had sold his hotel and bought King’s Castle. Cole hadn’t spoken to his uncle since the incident at Tranquility Springs, and he didn’t plan to. Jester Arno had risen into power within White Lightning, and he was stirring up old resentments with Dirty Eleven. The two clubs were at war again.

Mia had also spent the month in flux. She’d been asked to submit her resignation, along with a sealed letter in which she admitted to having sexual contact with a patient after hours. If she sought work as a forensic psychologist again, prospective employers could check into her record, and she’d have a lot of explaining to do. That was fair. The punishment fit the crime. She’d owned up to what she’d done, and she was ready to move in a new direction.

She had the option of assuming her original identity after a year passed. Now that her killers were both “dead,” there was little or no danger in her coming out of hiding. The only problem was Cole. She couldn’t have a relationship with him as Michelle Ruiz, victim of Gonzo Lowe. It might draw suspicion from Cole’s enemies. So she’d decided to stay Mia. It felt right. She wasn’t the same person she used to be. Cole knew her and loved her as Mia. They’d have each other, and that was enough.

Her husband’s murder case had been quietly closed. Mia had named Rylan Shepherd and Gonzo Lowe as the culprits. Her statement was locked inside a confidential file not available to the public.

While Cole was in jail, she’d started doing research for her book. She’d learned of The Trailblazer, a serial killer who’d targeted women on nature trails in the San Francisco area. Maybe it was an odd choice for someone with Mia’s personal history to study grisly deaths and psychological disorders. But it felt empowering for her to learn about the victims and delve into the killer’s motivations. Even if she never organized the material into a book, collecting it was a worthwhile exercise, and part of her healing process.