Page 14 of Chains

“We’ll get in touch with the club attorney.” Riggs promises, and all I can do is nod my thanks as we drive away from the clubhouse.

We drive to the station in stony silence. Well, I’m silent, listening to the two twits up front, practically admitting what actually happened to Zoe, in a roundabout way. And who was going to believe me, anyway? I was a member of an outlaw motorcycle club. Not an upstanding member of society or a detective with untold commendations to his name.

Caleb should be the one sitting here with his hands cuffed. Where the fuck is the bastard, anyway? Probably has done a runner after attacking Zoe, and leaving her to die. I shake my head, him in cuffs would be too good for the likes of him. Only his death will satisfy me at this point. I need to bide my time, but I will have my revenge for Zoe and for myself.

We arrive at the station within ten minutes, the sound of motorcycle pipes following us going a long way in calming my jangled nerves.

I’m surprised to see the club lawyer already there, and I send a silent thanks to my brothers for working as quick as lightning to get this done as soon as possible. I smile gratefully at him as I’m led into the interrogation room. But the only thing I can think about it Zoe, and what happened to her last night. If only I had driven past her place like I do most nights. Just to let her know I’m there if she needs me. But after what Lexie said after returning from the club last night, I decided I’d rather get shitfaced and spent the night with two club whores instead.

Of course, she would never admit that she needs me. She’s a strong, independent woman. Well, she was until she married that prick, Caleb. That she married him still sticks in my craw, even after all this time. And even worse, he’s never failed to rub it in my face, whenever I’ve had to come to Dallas on club business that Zoe is his now, and that there’s nothing I can do about it.

I shouldn’t want to do anything about it, should I? After all, I let her go for her own safety all those years ago. And to get back at me for it, she turned around and married the last man I wanted her with.

The club lawyer, Travis Tobin, sits down and motions for me to do the same. He’s dressed in an expensive looking gray suit which fits him like a glove, leading me to believe he must’ve got it custom made. He lays his black leather briefcase on the floor, pinning the two detectives with a dark stare.

“Alright, gentlemen, let’s get this over and done with, shall we? So that my client can get home,” he tells them, his voice dripping with confidence, and I want to fist bump the guy, but he doesn’t look like a man that does that sort of thing.

“Your client is in a whole heap of trouble.” detective number one tells him, a smug look on his face, mirroring the other guy’s.

“Oh, and why is that?” Travis asks smoothly, a brow arched.

Detective douche number two retrieves a baggie out of his pocket and places it in front of me. I narrow my eyes at it when I see it’s a large, silver chunky man’s ring. My heart stops for a second when I realize what it is.

I fight to play it cool, not showing anything on my face.

“Yeah, and? What’s that?” I ask, motioning toward it with my head, my hands tied behind my back.

“Take a look, tell me if you recognize it.” The asshole drawls. If I didn’t have my hands cuffed, I’d smack that smug look off his face. I lean closer, seeing the piece of jewelry clearer. A smile finally breaks on my face when recognition over the ring dings in my mind.

There, in front of me, was the ring I gave Zoe all those years ago as a kind of promise ring. It was a large ring, much too big to wear on her tiny finger, so she attached it to a chain and wore it around her neck. The B for my real name emblazoned in the middle in silver lettering over an onyx background. She must’ve been wearing it at the club last night. Meaning she still cares for me. That’s when I decide I was going to fight for the woman I love. I just pray she makes it out of this alive.

My lawyer smiles.

“What’s so funny?” the detective demands, with a narrowed stare.

“Really, gentlemen? That’s all you have? A ring?” Travis mocks.

“She was clutching it in her hand when we found her,” detective number one replies, as if that little tidbit is the be all and end all of his case against me. Asshole. The words he spoke last circle in my mind, and a wave of overwhelming anger and sadness over the whole situation comes over me. She was clutching it in her hand.

“Have you spoken to her asshole husband?” I demand to know. Seconds of guilt showed on each of their faces before they quickly cover it with slow arrogant smiles. This was the perfect crime to pin on someone who's a member of a motorcycle club. No one would question it. I was just a low life criminal to the Dallas PD. Oh, the irony.

“There's also the little matter that we found your DNA at the scene,” detective number two taking great pleasure in informing me.

Wait! What? How the hell had my DNA got there? I’ve never stepped foot into the home she shares with the asshole. I open my mouth to tell them just that, when Travis puts a hand on my arm, squeezing lightly, telling me now’s not the time to speak.

“Okay, gentlemen, we’ll bite. Where was this so-called evidence found?” my lawyer speaks casually, but he was as tightly wound as a coiled spring.

“All over the house. The doctors found your client’s semen inside Mrs. Thatcher. We may hold you for forty-eight hours without charge. But we have enough evidence to put you away for life. And if Mrs Thatcher doesn’t wake up, well, that’s a murder charge right there,” detective number one says with undisguised satisfaction.

I jerk back as if someone had hit me. What the actual fuck? The detective motions for his lackey, and the other guy moves to stand behind me.

“Get up,” he orders. But before my brain registers what he’d said, I’m being hauled to my feet.

“I am placing you under arrest”. The fucker drones on, but I had completely tuned out, unable to believe what was happening.

Despite my lawyer's insistence on my release, the douche forcefully ushers me into the main area of the police station, and I’m placed in a holding cell. I vaguely hear what sounds like a scuffle between the police and a few of my brothers, but it was like I was having an out-of-body experience. That it wasn’t me this was happening to.

Sitting on the hard wooden bench against the wall, my elbows resting on my jean clad thighs, I stare down at the stained concrete floor. I wasn’t worried for myself; I could handle life behind bars. I was panicking for Zoe. Knowing that she was married to a man who could beat, shoot and rape her, leaving her for dead leaves me cold to my core. I need to get word to my brothers to watch over her while I’m in here.

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