Page 11 of Death's Deal

She’s out of your league.

It spoke volumes.

I watched as Toni traversed the space, placed her hand on the book, and swore to tell the truth. I felt the palpable fear that came off of her as she took a seat.

“Antonia, I appreciate you taking time out of your school day to assist us. Would you mind telling us what you witnessed on the fourth of October last year, with regards to the accused, Bennett Crow.” His greasy lawyer tone pissed me off as he dragged her attention to himself solely.

Never once looking my way, her eyes tracked Jaris. It was as if I wasn’t in the room. Almost as if I was someone she was afraid of, or some asshole she’d never met. I was insignificant.

With a meek tone, she asked for further clarification, “I’m sorry. Can you be more specific please?” I knew Toni wasn’t stupid and now he would learn it. She wasn’t someone who would be led along. “What are you requesting information on, sir?”

“Of course. Excuse me,” he stated quite dryly from his seat at the table across from me. “I’m interested in the party at the Army clubhouse you had the opportunity to be at that night.” The witnesses this asshat lawyer had produced amounted to nothing of note. Nothing that would place me in any unscrupulous positions at least, and smirking that his attempt won’t lead to much, I sat back in my seat comfortably. Jaris’s attempt to draw some epic epiphany from Toni was about to amount to zero.

I didn’t have anything to hide about that night or any night. Christ!! I hadn’t even prospected to the club. I was not privy to anything just because my father is the Pres. I didn’t get sent on runs. I was clean.

Shifting uneasy and uncomfortably in her seat, training her eyes on the DA, still unable to draw her eyes to mine, the way she’d fidgeted had me worrying a little.

“Quinny and I were at a—”

Interrupting her, he asked, “Quinny? Can you confirm you are indicating the defendant, Bennett Quinlan Crow?”

“Yes. I called him Quinny. We were at the clubhouse for a birthday party for a friend of his.”

“And that was for Boyd Bluebird Jackson.” His chirpy voice interrupting her was starting to get on my nerves. “Held at the clubhouse of the Hades Army MC, is this correct?”

“Yes. It was Boyd’s birthday. He’d just turned eighteen. He was being patched in.” When Jaris was about to interrupt her once more, she beat him to the question. “‘Patched means he was being made a full member. It is a big deal.”

“Thank you,” he stated before pulling a photo from his desk, approaching Toni. “Can you confirm if the two men in the picture are Boyd and Bennett.”

“Yes. That’s Boyd and Qui—Bennett.”

“Was this picture taken that night?” he asked again.

Shrugging, blowing out a heavy breath, Toni looked at the photo of her, myself, and Boyd. “Yes. We were blowing out the candles.”

“And can you tell me what that is, stacked behind you?”

I knew what was stacked behind us. Crates. Crates full of guns. Stacks and stacks of submachine guns, fully automatic rifles, handguns of all styles and makes, and one crate full of hand grenades. They were to be delivered on the following Sunday out at the port to the Broken Bows MC. I might not be a patched member, but you couldn’t miss seeing something like that hanging around. That went for drugs, skin trade, and smuggling, I would occasionally see it going on, but it wasn’t mine to worry about.

In a flat tone she answered him, “It’s a crate of ecstasy. Bennett was expected to deliver it to their port building the next day.” My heart nearly quit on the next beat. My girlfriend of two years had not only committed perjury on the stand, but she’s just lied twice in one sentence. Condemning me to jail.

Toni and I knew the truth of what was in those crates. I nearly blurted it out, but that would cause irreparable damage to the club and those involved. Instead, I locked my jaw shut and glared at the woman I thought had my back in all things.

“Are you saying it was Bennett’s job in the club to transport and supply the narcotics?”

When she didn’t reply, he continued on. Holding up a bag jam-packed with pills, with what I’d guess was at least five-hundred grand’s worth on the street, he stated, “Let the record show the bag I’m holding was located in a raid on the fifth of October at the port building, 85443 Front River Drive West, owned by the Hades Army MC.”

It was going to be Hopper, Heathen, Maverick, and Balls who were responsible for those crates. They were transporting them to the port, and I had nothing to do with it at all.

Standing up; finally, my lawyer interjected, “I object. Showing a picture of my defendant at a party in front of crates, crates which you don’t know if they’re full or empty, does not show guilt, Your Honor.”

“I agree,” the judge replied. “Mr. Jaris, you need something more concrete than a picture to implicate this young man. I hope you have something else.”

Gazing my way, Jaris grinned in a smarmy, knowing glow, straightening his suit tie. If we were in any other setting than this, I would have loved nothing more than to jump up from the chair to beat his ass with the bag of pills.

“Yes, Your Honor.” Knowing he needed a further tactic, he lifted a phone from the table, one in a plastic bag marked Evidence I recognized by the cover. It was Toni’s.

“Is this your phone, Antonia?” he asked, turning to her with the evidence bag.

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