Page 58 of Rogue

I move away from him, into the shade of the awning over the bar’s door. It’s full of holes from years of neglect. The bright sunlight is streaming through those holes, painting misshapencircles of light on the dirty concrete ground in front of the door. He follows me, as I knew he would.

“I’m not sheltering killers,” I say. “I sent Zane away.”

I still don’t know if I did the right thing. I may not know why he killed that priest, but I do know he didn’t do it because he’s a deranged psycho. If I was a better friend to him—a better brother—knowing that would be enough.

“I had to let Clive Kruger go,” Manny says. “And I had to release all his properties back to him. Even though he’s a trafficker and a child killer. All because the information came from you. All because you think you can play both sides of the law. All because you think you’re untouchable.”

“You let him go?” I ask and I’m having trouble breathing.

“Had to,” he says. “The only things we had on him were tainted because they came from you.”

“That can’t just be because Zane stopped by the clubhouse,” I snap. “What’s really going on?”

“Orders from the top,” he says. “No more dealing with Rogue Angels MC. If I do, then I’m saying goodbye to my career.”

“So, join us already,” I say.

He shakes his head, looking disgusted. “You need to clean house, Rogue. You need to decide what side you’re really on. You can’t have it both ways anymore. You’re either with the good guys or you’re with the bad guys. Don’t call me again until you figure it out.”

He strides back towards his car.

“Manny, wait,” I call after him, but he doesn’t. Just gets in his car and speeds away.

I can still fell a tiny sliver of the good vibes I had from working things out with Melody. But it's not enough to chase away the cold, hard, smelly crap Manny just dumped on me.

Everything’s been crumbling for a while. But now it’s turning to dust. And I have no idea how to stop the destruction.

The parking lot in front of the clubhouse is packed and the bar is buzzing, clumps of members talking amongst themselves, some drinking, others just unable to sit still.

“Where have you been?” Alice asks as she intercepts me at the door and leads me back outside into the glaring afternoon sun.

“I went by the ER,” I tell her. “What’s going on?”

“We have a situation,” she says. “And you might wanna cool it with that lady friend for a while.”

I’m used to Alice giving orders left, right and center around here, but I’m usually exempt from it. And I really don’t appreciate the harshness in her tone when she told me to stay away from Melody. As far as I’m concerned, I only just got her back and I’m not letting her go anytime soon.

“Why would I do that?” I ask.

“Because the cops are not happy with us,” she says. “They told us all to stand down and leave Clive and his properties alone from now on. And I’m thinking it’s because of our Devil’s Nightmare MC connection. They probably don’t know we killed Ghost, given how hard it was to find him, but that doctor, she’s tight with the Devils.”

You can say that again.

That thought hits me from left field and its totally unexpected. Rattling too. I didn’t lie to her. I want her. Bad. But a whole MC already had her too.

“It’s because Zane showed up,” I say. “I just spoke to my cousin about it. Apparently, they now think we’re sheltering a fugitive and they’re saying all the information we gave them is tainted. Basically, they want to play it safe.”

She rolls her eyes at me. That’s what she usually does when she thinks I’m leaving a bunch of things unsaid in favor of being placating.

“Yes, OK, fine, it’s fucked,” I say. “But Melody has nothing to do with it, I sent Zane away and Clive still needs to be stopped. If the cops won’t do it, we’ll have to. I want our people watching the strip clubs and making sure nothing happens to any more of his captives.”

She shakes her head while rolling her eyes this time. Never a good thing.

“What we have to do is be on our best behavior and get back into LAPD’s good graces,” she says.

“No, Alice,” I snap.

We’re standing in direct sunlight, because there’s no damn shade to be found in the parking lot—a design oversight we’ll have to remedy soon—and the heat beating down on me, coupled with my blood boiling is making this conversation unbearable. Not that the heat is the only reason for that.

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