Page 5 of Pike’s Redemption

I leaned on my palms, acting like I didn’t have a care in the world. “You think someone could have done this to set me up? If it isn’t Eli,” I qualified.

“Let’s keep all possibilities open.” She gave me a measured look, making sure to look in my eyes and not glance at my crotch where she would see the unmistakable evidence of my interest in more than the case. “There could be other suspects. Anyone with a grudge against you or the club?”

I thought about it. “Plenty of people have grudges against us. Comes with the territory. But setting me up for murder? That’s a different level of vendetta.”

Natasha nodded, considering. “Think about rivals, business disputes, anyone who might benefit from you being out of the picture.”

I frowned. “There’s always tension with other clubs, but nothing that’s gotten this personal recently. Business has been smooth, too. Maybe a bit too smooth? I don’t fucking know. I could talk it over with Maddox and see what he thinks.”

“What about within your club?” Natasha asked, her eyes sharp. “Any internal conflicts? Power struggles?”

I hesitated. “Not really. There’s always some jostling for position, but nothing major. Everyone knows their place.”

She tapped her pen against her notepad, deep in thought. “We need to look at every angle, Pike. Anyone with a motive to frame you needs to be considered. What about when you served time? Anyone that stood out as having a beef with you?”

That feeling of being trapped was so strong that it enveloped me in a suffocating grip. The walls were closing in, the air thickening every second. Memories of the prison cell—small, gray, and unyielding—flooded back, making breathing hard—the clanking of bars, the relentless scrutiny of the guards, the constant battle to maintain sanity.

“I guess,” I finally managed to say, my voice tight. "A name comes to mind, Virgil Holder. We had a... disagreement. He made it clear he had a long memory and a thirst for revenge. I’d be surprised if this were him, though. How would he know?”

Natasha nodded, scribbling down the name, not answering my question. "Anyone else?"

I racked my brain, the feeling of claustrophobia intensifying. The pressure of the situation, combined with the flashbacks, was almost too much. "O'Connor," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. "He was a guard. A real piece of work. Took pleasure in making our lives hell. Wouldn’t be surprised if he held a grudge."

"Good," she said, looking up from her notes. "We'll start with them. If you remember anything else, let me know."

I nodded, trying to focus on the present, on the fact that I was no longer behind bars. But the feeling of being trapped lingered a dark cloud that refused to dissipate. She stood, that peppermint scent wafting around her, silk brushing me. She was so close.

“Pike, we did good work today.” Out of all her statements, this one was hesitant and comforting. I lifted my head to find those eyes of hers. We got your alibi established.” She reached out a hand to grip mine. That’s a good thing. You’re not going back,” she said vehemently.

Her mistake had been to touch me. I was burning inside, waves of energy that needed an outlet. Yanking her towards me, I didn’t even care that her eyes widened in surprise. I liked that little look of fear, but I caught that her pupils dilated as my mouth crashed hard on hers and took what I wanted. Capturing her mouth, I plundered it and took it for my own. Cupping her ass, I pulled her against my cock so she could feel that I was ready to fuck her right now if she’d let me.

She pulled away from me, albeit reluctantly. “Pike, I...” Her breath hitched, making her hard nipples skate across the fabric of her blouse.

“I’m not sorry,” I said belligerently.

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I need to be professional. This is important to me.”

I nodded stiffly. Her clothing was rumpled, her lips swollen and plump, the color high on her cheeks. “If I think of anything, I’ll text.” She seemed uncomfortable, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. I only wanted her back in my arms where I could kiss her.

“Great,” she said, smoothing her skirt. "I'll start looking into the people you mentioned. If there's anything at all that seems off, I'll find it. Meanwhile, keep your head down and try not to attract any more attention."

I ground my teeth at her directive. The last thing I wanted to do was ‘keep my head down’ unless it was between her skirts, but I didn’t think that’s what she meant. I watched her leave, her heels clicking against the floor with a confidence that belied the intensity of the situation. Her presence was a strange mix of comfort and chaos, making me feel more secure and on edge at the same time.

After she left, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. I pulled out my phone and started going through my contacts, making a mental list of people to contact. Someone may have seen or heard something that could point us in the right direction, and I couldn't afford to overlook any potential leads.

CHAPTER

THREE

NATASHA

I sat in my car, the engine idling softly, as I gathered my thoughts. I was usually more careful than letting myself get into a situation like that. At home, I had security, but I hadn’t brought Enzo with us because we were staying with Dimitri. First, we were a little tight on space, and second, it just didn’t seem necessary. Not that I felt unsafe ... what was I saying? I laid my forehead on the steering wheel. Damn, that was hot. It was also very unprofessional, I reminded myself sternly, straightening up and checking my reflection in the rearview mirror. That man wasn’t someone I should be getting involved with. He wasn’t the killer — thankfully. Still …

The kiss we had shared lingered on my lips, a compelling reminder of the man I just left. Taking a deep breath, I pulled out of the parking space and headed back to Dimitri’s house. My music played, and my brain emptied instead of running through the case like usual.

The drive through the small town was a nice change from the traffic of San Diego. These streets were quaint and easy to navigate. Arizona was blazing hot now; temperature skyrocketed during the day, so the streets were almost empty. People only moved from the car to the storefront, where the air conditioning waited. I had worried initially about the dry heat here, but I already found that I was enjoying it. Typically, I was always cold. I discovered that I’d found a place where I was finally warm.

Pulling up to the quiet tree-lined street where Dimitri and Hollis lived, I couldn’t help but contrast it with the house where his brother, the pakhan of the Volkov Bratva, lived. Maxim lived in a palatial estate on the San Diego coast that sprawled against the ocean. Guards prowled the estate with eagle eyes and weapons across their chests, doing nothing to add to the atmosphere. Well, except some of them were pretty nice eye candy. Dimitri’s home was a Craftsman bungalow, lovingly restored by his own two hands. Maxim had never held a hammer other than to smash out knees. The bungalow had just three bedrooms, so Veronica and I were sharing a bedroom for the first time.

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