Page 13 of Chains

“We need to have a chat.” fucker number one says, and my nerves ratchet up another notch, but I wouldn’t give these two assholes the satisfaction of showing them their presence in my clubhouse was bothering me. His sidekick sneers at me, as if he had something over my head that I didn’t know about, though by the looks on their faces, I have a bad feeling that somehow they do.

“Just fuckin’ tell me what’s going on, detective. Am I gonna need a lawyer for whatever the fuck this is?”

Detective Douche sighs dramatically, and my fist itches to connect with the five o’clock shadow on his chin. The rumpled look he had going, doing nothing for him.

“We got a call early this morning about a disturbance at one of the gated estates situated out of town.”

He begins irritatingly slowly, and my heart thumps erratically. In Seattle, Washington, we have the police in our pockets, but it’s a different story here in Dallas. Caleb and his crooked pals were determined to screw over Kon Sokolov and the Devil's Carnage MC for any reason they could come up with. And it seems now they’ve found a way.

Detective Douche number two continues while asshole number one looks on,

“There was a disturbance at Mr. and Mrs. Thatcher’s place.” I wanted to smack the almost self-satisfied looks off their fucking faces, but when he says disturbance, I couldn’t think of anything but whether Zoe was alright?

“The police found Mrs Thatcher,” he clears his throat, “with multiple stab wounds and a gunshot wound to the stomach. They took her to the hospital. Doesn’t look good for her, unfortunately. Or you.” He adds, almost smugly.

Detective number one examines me closely, trying to gauge my reaction. But by then, I had completely zoned out when I heard my worst nightmare was happening.

Without thinking, I run for the exit, wanting to get to her as soon as possible, but a couple of my brothers, who were creating a ring around me, held me back, knowing I would lose my shit.

“Woah there, brother. Don’t give them an excuse to shoot your ass!” Angel hisses in my face, giving me a silent warning to calm myself down, a hand on my chest. “You can’t lose your shit right now. Be strong for Zoe. Okay, brother?” he advises quietly.

Out of all of us, Angel was the level-headed one, that thought and acted methodically, rarely, if ever, getting into conflicts. Though he never shied away from them.

He knew when to pick his battles. This was clearly not one any of us would win. So I forced myself to calm down.

Both detectives were on their feet, their guns trained on me. The red fog lifting, and I knew, I just knew, Caleb had something to do with this. And this was his opportunity to pin Zoe’s attack on me. The fucker.

I want nothing more than to lay Angel down for getting in my way. But I stop myself, digging my heels into the floor before I go through him like a battering ram.

Just then, the door to Lexie’s bedroom opens, and Riggs steps out. Both Angel and I narrow our gaze at him, and he lowers his head. Fuck him, I don’t have time to quiz him about why he was in Lexie’s room.

“I have to go, brother. Zoe needs me.” I say to Angel, ignoring Riggs altogether. Unable to keep the desperation out of my voice.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Detective Douche speaks up, and if my brother hadn’t held me back, I’d have charged the motherfucker with a gun trained on me or not.

I narrow my gaze at the two men, who seem to be just waiting for me to do something so they could take me out right here in the middle of the clubhouse; I take a deep breath and stand with my hands in the pockets of my jeans and my feet apart.

“What’s goin’ on, pig?” I couldn’t help adding, watching in satisfaction the way his face reddens. “If you’re trying to pin this on me, I have an alibi, I was here all night, and I hadn’t seen Zoe in over a year.”

“We have evidence to the contrary.” Detective Douche number two drawls, removing a pair of cuffs from his pocket. Coming towards me with them. He must’ve seen the warning look on my face, because he stops in his tracks, looking to his buddy to know what to do next.

I couldn’t speak for a minute, and all talk stopped in the clubhouse. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ shittin’ me? What fucking evidence?” I finally explode. In shock, I don’t fight when they put handcuffs around my wrists.

“Bodie Dawson, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Zoe Thatcher.” he announces with great satisfaction, written all over his pompous face.

“Hands behind your back,” Idiot number two demands. I can’t believe what’s happening here. It’s like I’m in an episode of the Twilight Zone.

Caleb had it out for me for a long time now, all because he couldn’t get over the fact I was Zoe’s first. I could only hope that she can clear up this mess once she wakes up.

I desperately want to tell them to go to hell, but that would only make my situation worse, so I just stand there in stony silence, letting them cuff me.

“Go to the hospital,” I calmly tell my Briar Creek brothers. “Make sure Zoe’s okay.”

“You know it, brother.” Ky replies, slapping me on the back, and giving both detectives a dark look, which they simply ignore.

A ball of emotion lodges in my throat at his words, and I swallow it down. I can’t afford that feeling right now. I need to keep a level head if I’m going to get through this bump in the road. It’s not the first time I’ve found myself in the slammer, but it is the first time I’m going there for something I hadn’t done.

I let them lead me, my hands cuffed behind my back, my brothers following behind me to their cop car, and bundle me in the backseat.

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