Page 14 of Pike’s Redemption

SEVEN

NATASHA

It had been past midnight when my phone rang. I was deep into a decent sleep, tucked into my sheets with my eye mask on to block out the glow of Ronnie’s laptop. I wasn’t sure I would have woken up if Ronnie hadn’t given me a swift kick. Of course, she’d been awake. She was a little night owl if there ever was one.

“Phone Natty. It’s Pike.” That was all she gave me as she gave me a shake.

Pike: Police at the Pit. Have questions. Can u come

Me: Omw

Thankfully, I was well-versed in throwing myself together at the last minute. Most clients didn’t give much notice, so I had my outfits pre-coordinated, and my makeup routine was down to a science. I could do it with my eyes closed. I was out the door in fifteen minutes flat. The proximity of the Pit was a bonus; despite Dimitri’s house being in Haverboro, the towns were so close traffic wasn’t a concern, especially in towns like these, where streets were empty at this time of night.

Stepping into the Pit, the heavy bass reverberated through the floor, syncing my heart with the music. The place was packed, as expected, with bikers and locals mingling in a haze of smoke and dim lighting. I scanned the room, looking for Pike, but he wasn’t in sight yet. My heels clicked against the worn wooden floor as I approached the bar, weaving through groups of people and ignoring the low whistles. Cringing, I tried to ignore the slight tackiness of the floor. Gross. I dressed as I would to meet a client, but I stood out; that was clear. Maybe I should have dressed a little more casually.

As I reached the bar, I spotted Ed Cross, Pike’s VP, standing there with a beer in hand. There must have been something in the water with the Cobras. Cross wasn’t a slouch in the looks department either, although he looked like he’d be more at home in the board room. Ronnie had made me an excellent dossier of the Cobras members with photos and background information. Pike must be here somewhere. Cross would be the person who would be most likely to know where. He caught sight of me and nodded in acknowledgment. “You must be Ms. Petrova. I’m Cross,” he greeted, his voice barely audible over the music.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied, smiling briefly. “Where’s Pike?”

“In the office,” he said, tipping his head towards the rear of the building. “He’s got Macmillan there waiting on you.”

“Perfect,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral.

Cross raised an eyebrow but didn’t press for details. “Follow me,” he said, setting his beer down and leading the way through the crowd. I didn’t need an escort but didn’t bother declining it since he was body-blocking through the crowd.

We navigated through the bustling floor, the atmosphere thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. The back of the Pit was quieter, the noise from the main room muffled by the walls. Cross maneuvered upstairs and stopped before the heavy office door, knocking twice before going ahead and pushing it open.

Pike was leaning against a desk, arms over his chest, as he stared down at the two officers from the Morinrock PD, his jaw locked tight. He looked up as we entered, his expression shifting from irritation to relief. He looked as if he was holding himself back from actually committing murder. I snickered.

“Natasha,” he said, straightening up. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.” Stepping further into the room, I ignored the testosterone in the air. Cross came in behind me and closed the door, shutting off the noise downstairs and providing us some privacy. Macmillan, one of the officers who had brought Pike in for questioning, sat with what I could only describe as resignation in one of the club chairs opposite Pike’s desk. I was surprised that Pike willingly allowed him to be in his office. Technically, he didn’t have to without a warrant, but it wasn’t the best look for a felon or someone who had been a suspect to refuse the police access. He’d made the right choice to let them in and call for his legal representation.

“Ms. Petrova,” Macmillan nodded politely, his hands gripping a folder tightly in his lap. I couldn’t quite figure out why he looked so anxious and pale. Granted, at the police station, he was the one in charge, and here, he didn’t quite have the upper hand. Was that it?

“Come around and set up at the desk,” Pike offered, moving out of the way. I accepted and crossed over to sit, laying my briefcase on the old oak surface, pulling the folio that contained the case notes out, and then my laptop with the video clips. Pike hadn’t been specific on the phone about why the police were here. We weren’t at the police station, which was a good sign. I’d been clear with the DA about the strength of the alibi I’d built, but I couldn’t reason why they were here, and it made me itchy.

“The officers wanted my opinion on something,” Pike began. My eyes snapped to his.

“His opinion?” I echoed into the office. Cross and Pike had their faces set in stone, but the officers looked like they wanted to puke at the thought that they needed Alexander ‘Pike’ Walters for anything.

“There has been another murder, Ms. Petrova,” Macmillan said nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Tapping my fountain pen against the pad of paper, I shrugged as if it didn’t bother me in the slightest, even as my heart picked up speed. “What does that have to do with my client, Officer Macmillan?” Pike smirked from where he stood just outside the police officer’s view, and I did my best not to let my eyes linger on him and his overly pleased look.

“We’re wondering if they’re connected, is all,” his words trailed off.

“And you can’t figure that out?” I asked.

“We’re still waiting on identification.”

“Well,” I leaned back in the chair. “What’s the time of death for this case?”

“Five to six p.m. this evening, but we already know Mr. Walters’s alibi is solid.” My eyes narrowed at the greasy officer, who started looking everywhere but at me. “As soon as we found the body, it was the first thing we checked,” he confessed. “His whereabouts were confirmed at the house of Mr. Volkov. We spoke to him while you were driving over.” It went unsaid that there were plenty of witnesses. “Mr. Volkov has also provided us with video evidence,” Macmillan said morosely as if someone had kicked his puppy. I needed to speak with my cousin about providing evidence without consulting me first. Although, in this instance, he had done the right thing, so maybe I wouldn’t be a harpy.

Finding the killer was in Pike’s best interest, especially if these were frame jobs. The last thing we needed was for him to be implicated in another murder. “Mr. Walters, let’s see what they have,” I instructed them to open the folder.

“Maybe you don’t need to see this, ma’am?” Officer Macmillan suggested, but when I shook my head, he seemed to collapse a little more, finally understanding that I wouldn’t budge and that it wasn’t an option. Laying the folder on the desk, he laid out the photos. “The body was left in the field out behind the hardware store. Found it on patrol. Same ‘x,’ but over the heart this time. Eyes gouged out like the last one. Throat slit.”

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