Page 8 of Spice's Halloween

“Camera’s working Bart?”

“Yeah.”

“Go check them and pull the footage for me and the boys.”

“What’s Lindy to you, Spice?” Bart asked suspiciously.

“A neighbour,” I replied. “Get that recording, Bart, because the cops will blame me for this.”

“Fuck!” Bart looked conflicted. But he moved as he knew I was right.

Before Lindy even hit the ambo, I’d be in bracelets. The police would arrest me in the blink of an eye. They hated the club around here; arresting a member of the Royal Bastards MC for this would be pretty predictable. My being here meant, in their eyes, I’d done this, which is why I sent Bart for the footage, as it should show Lindy’s attack and also my arrival.

The cops would make that evidence disappear damn quick in their rush to put a Royal Bastard behind bars. Bart pulling it would save my ass.

A black and white sped into the car park, and two uniforms leapt out. Within seconds, they had their guns on me and were screaming for me to get on my knees. What a fuckin’ surprise. Shortly after, an unmarked car pulled up, and two detectives emerged. One sent me a look of sheer glee, and his thoughts were plain to read.

They finally had a Royal Bastard in cuffs. The detectives approached the two uniforms and murmured in their ears.

I tried telling them what happened but gave up and obeyed and zipped my lips. The cops got on their radios, detailing the scene, and I was shoved into the back of the car.

“What are you doing?” Bart yelled.

“Asshole’s under arrest,” a detective replied.

“Spice didn’t do it! He found Lindy and alerted me to call the police,” Bart shouted.

“Likely story. Did you take turns?” the detective asked.

Bart drew himself up. “Watch your mouth, son. My cousin is your captain. Do you wanna make this an issue? I can fuckin’ make this one,” Bart hissed.

The pig blanched. “Sorry, sir.”

“You better be. I’m calling my cousin now. Spice found Lindy. He didn’t do this, and I’ve footage of Spice arriving,” Bart stated.

“We’ll take a look at that,” the second detective said, nodding at a uniform before glancing at me with hate. Yeah, the feeling’s mutual, asshole.

“Go ahead. It shows Lindy leaving, a figure who is not Spice attacking her. Then Spice pulls in,” Bart announced.

The two cops disappeared inside the building, and I guessed the footage was about to disappear. Bart held up three fingers, and I nodded. Hopefully, I guessed Bart meant he’d downloaded three copies.

“Get one to Berserker,” I mouthed, and Bart tilted his head.

My gaze shifted to Lindy; she remained unconscious, and a cop covered her with a blanket.

To my relief, the ambo pulled in screaming, and two paramedics jumped out and raced over. The second detective returned and shook his head at Bart.

“Your footage is corrupted. Ain’t nothing showing what happened.”

“Strange that,” Bart replied, “Especially as I watched it with my own eyes.”

“Maybe you deleted it to cover for the suspect,” the asshole sneered and then wiped the look from his face.

“Or you did to point the finger at an innocent man,” Bart retorted angrily. “Shit, my barmaid was attacked, and you’re fuckin’ worried about locking a Royal Bastard up. Dude, you don’t give a fuck about finding the real culprit.”

“Watch your mouth, cousin or not; slander is slander,” the uniform warned.

He opened the driver’s door and got in after calling out that he was taking me to jail.

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