Page 38 of Burning Bridges

“Enough!” I yell, not wanting to hear another word on the subject. She wouldn’t do this to us. She might be looking for a way back to the top, but not this. This drug killed her mother, and for some reason, she can’t stand the Kings. She wouldn’t get involved with them to pull off something like this. If she really wanted me out of her way, she would come at me head-on.

Jett’s eyes meet mine, his features hardened, ready to fight me on this. “There would be a lot of money in this for her. You know as well as we do, she needs it. When people are desperate, they do what they need to so they can survive.” He’s implying we have all been there, doing things we don’t want to or agree with just to get by.

His words stab at me like knives to my soul. I was beginning to let myself see a different story for me and Piper. Letting my guard down with her and starting to believe that something more could be possible. She told me I love her, and I was starting to think it could be true. That it might really be possible for me to fall in love. But he just ruined any stupid ideas that were forming.

I need to get a grip before I fuck up everything we have worked so hard for. “Make sure the club is clean. Leave nothing for the pigs to question us over,” I roar, storming from his office.

Two vanloads of men with sniffer dogs at their sides arrive less than an hour later. I have calmed down considerably and am waiting at the entrance of the club to greet them, a smile on my face.

“You must be Leo Rivera,” says the middle-aged cop in a stuffy cheap suit. He holds out a hand for me to shake as his eyes sweep over me.

I take it and firmly return his greeting. He gives off a no-shit type of vibe, and from what I have heard from one of our informers, that is exactly him. He’s old-school and does everything strictly by the book. He has also come into this unit with a massive chip on his shoulder and a grudge against anyone who is involved with the underworld dealings of this area. So, in other words, we're on his shit list, and he is looking for any excuse to slap a pair of cuffs on us. He won’t find one today.

“This is Jett and Kobe,” I introduce him.

Jett glares his greeting in a back-the-fuck-off kind of way, his dislike for the men in blue apparent.

Kobe holds out a hand. “What exactly can we help you with, Detective?”

“Detective Reader,” he informs us. “We have a warrant to search the premises.” He shoves a piece of paper in my face, and I snatch it from him, passing it to Kobe to read over.

“Be my guest,” I say, standing aside for him and his team to make their way through the building. The detective stays with us in the main part of the club. The officers he brought with him separate into two groups, and I already know we have nothing to worry about. I can distinguish every person on each of the crews by name and the benefits they get from helping us in our fight. This new guy might be in charge, but his crew still works for us.

“I hear you're new to the area. How are you liking it so far?” Kobe asks, a hint of amusement in his voice, letting this guy know we have done our research and we already know way more about him than he could possibly know about us.

So far, we know he transferred in from LA after a short stint in narcotics. He has been in the force for nearly twenty years but has only just started in this department. He’s divorced, and I’d say his reasoning for the change in career is the overdose his eighteen-year-old daughter had three years ago. She was found in the middle of the desert, and the autopsy says she had Euphoria in her system. He’s out for blood, and I can understand that. But he’s not going to find the answers he’s looking for here.

The detective narrows his eyes at Kobe and pulls a face like he is repulsed by him. “It has potential. Shame it’s run by lowlife cunts like you three.”

Kobe feigns looking offended. “That’s a bit harsh. I was just trying to make polite conversation. I wouldn’t call us lowlifes, would you, Jett? The three of us combined make more money each month from our legitimate businesses than you will see in your lifetime. I’d describe us as more billionaire entrepreneurs, wouldn’t you?”

Jett nods his agreement, his glare not moving from Detective Reader, like he is trying to read his mind or pin him to the spot with just his eyes. The truth is more like he’s probably trying to stop himself from completely losing his shit and taking out the man who dared to interrupt his day.

“Whatever you are, you won’t be for long. I know you three have your hands in the pockets of most of the station, but now that I’m here, things are going to change. I will not tolerate the sale of Euphoria on my streets. This town is mine to protect, and I intend to do just that.”

“We have that in common,” I huff, not wanting to give too much away, but this stuck-up old bastard is here to lump us in the same category as the Acevedos and the Kings, and that shit isn’t going to fly with me. We may have our hands in a little illegal gambling when it comes to MMA, and between us, we have killed more people than could fill a church on a Sunday, but it was done in the name of justice. They were hardly innocent people; they were slimy fuckers who had done a hell of a lot worse than us, and the world is better off without them. And if the cops had been doing their job in the first place, we wouldn’t have had to take matters into our own hands. One thing is for sure, though; this guy has nothing on us. I can read him like a book, little tells giving him away. He is intimidated by the three of us, and he should be. As much as he tries to put on the confident act, he is sweating like the pig he is.

The first crew makes their way back toward us. “It’s clean, boss.” The idiot looks to me as he says it instead of his officer in charge. If we didn’t look guilty before, we sure as shit do now.

But if Detective Reader notices, he doesn’t make it obvious. He rubs his chin, waiting for the rest of them to return. They're not much longer and come back with the same answer as the first crew. “All clean.” Our club, just like we thought it would be, is clean as a whistle.

I look our new detective friend over the same way he did me when he first got here.

“Might want to spend your time and resources doing a little more research before you go accusing us of anything in the future, Detective,” Kobe says with a wink, rubbing salt in the wound.

“Return to the station,” he orders his crew. He waits for them to leave then turns his attention toward us. “I know you three are involved, and when I find out how, you will pay for everything you have ever done to the poor people of this town.” Spit flies toward us as he tries furiously to get out his words. His face has turned a deep shade of red, and he marches from the club on a mission.

Some people are fast learners, while others it takes them a little longer to get with the program. But one way or another, he will learn that the way he's doing things won’t get him far in this town. If he had come to us and asked for our help, it might have been a different story, but instead, he has made an enemy of us when we are fighting the same cause.

“Make sure your guy is watching his every move, Kobe. No information about Euphoria is to get to him before we know about it,” I demand, storming from the room.

Chapter 22

PIPER

ThephoneTonygaveme rings, and I wish I didn’t have to pick it up. Our calls are getting more and more frequent and hostile. “Hello.” I sigh, wishing he would just come home so I can talk to him properly in person. I’m positive if he did, things wouldn’t feel so out of control.

“Sounds like it’s chaos on the streets of Palm Springs this week.”

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