Page 35 of Beautiful Ruins
I groaned, running a hand through my hair. “Fuck. Who else knows at the station?”
“Just me at the moment.” He levelled me with that cop stare. The kind that made it clear he didn’t say things twice. “Any chance Anthony was associated with the Stone girl?”
The plastic water bottle crumpled in my grip. “Not that I know of,” I said, dropping the item into the bin under the bench. “I’m not his keeper, John. How long can you sit on it for?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Just answer the goddamn question. How long?”
He gave a half-shrug, the weight of my question already too heavy. “Twenty-four hours,” he said, glancing over the faded blue of the XY Falcon Logan had insisted on buying before he died—apparently the 1970 GT model was the best of all time. “Maybe less. I’ve got Shane Elliot breathing down my neck on this one. He suspects I’m hiding something. Little shit doesn’t give up.” The bitterness in his tone didn’t go unnoticed, his resentment wafting from him like a foul smell.
Shane Elliot. John’s second-hand man and the very definition of a pain in my arse. He had a chip on his shoulders when it came to the club. His nose in my business wasn’t what I fucking needed. We may have had a long-runningunderstanding with John, but the fact a club member was potentially involved in a town murder, meant John had no choice but to investigate.
But if he didn’t play this right, Shane would blow the whole thing before I had my chance to take my shot at removing Snake for good. Shane saw us as nothing more than the town’s most wanted. Didn’t matter that we’d done our part keeping the outside shit out of Barrenridge.
“Give me forty-eight hours,” I said, attempting to keep my frustration from ramping up to full-blown anger.
I pushed off the crate, rising to my feet and lit up a cigarette. The smoke hovered between us like an unspoken threat, curling in the air.
“What the hell are you planning?” John cast another glance around. “I can’t cover your arse forever.”
I stared at Chief Cooper. Sadie was nothing like him—thank fuck. “Nothing you need to worry about just yet. All I’m asking for is a couple of days.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face, his frustration seeping into the air. “Jesus, Rowan. You realise what kind of shitstorm you’re asking me to hold back? Whatever Snake’s tied up in, it’s already bleeding.”
I laughed, but there was no humour in it. “No shit, John. You think I want the likes of you and your little brown-noser, Elliot, breathing down my fucking neck.” I levelled him with a hard stare. “Let me fucking deal with it.” I just needed time. A crack in the wall. Because if Snake really was dirty—and this whole thing blew wide open—then the club, and maybe everything I’d built, was going up in smoke.
John clenched his jaw, jabbing a finger into my chest. Did he think I wouldn’t break it just because he was the chief? “Forty-eight hours. That’s all I can give you.”
“Understood.” I shoved his hand away like swatting a fly. “Better go make the most of your forty-eight.”
For a long moment, John just stood there staring at me, his eyes fixed and unblinking. There was more he wanted to say, but he never voiced the words.
Instead, he gave me one last piercing glare before turning and stalking away, mumbling under his breath. He jumped in his cruiser parked out front of his house, the door slamming shut with a hollow, metallic thud. Seconds later, the engine roared to life, and the cruiser peeled off down the road, leaving a cloud of smoke behind it.
I reached for my phone, my fingers twitching with the weight of what I had to do. Snake had always been a loose cannon, but this was beyond a joke. If he’d really been involved with those cult murders, there was no telling what other shit he might’ve gotten mixed up in. And now he was threatening to bring the whole club down with him. Liabilities didn’t get second chances. Not in this world.
I fired off a quick text to Bear.
Me: Clubhouse. Tonight. Got a situation.
His reply came almost instantly.
Bear: On it. 8pm?
Me: Perfect.
I pocketed the phone and took a long drag of my cigarette, exhaling slowly as I considered my next move.
Bear had connections inside Long Bay. If Snake landed there, Bear’s contacts would handle him before he even opened his mouth. And if he somehow managed to slip through John’sfingers, well . . . accidents happened all the time in our line of work.
My mind drifted to Sadie. If Snake was gone, would she hate me a little less? Let me get close? I shook my head. I couldn’t go there. Not again. Not when I knew she’d leave . . . and take what remained of me.
Chapter Eleven
SADIE
Jasmine sat opposite me on my bedroom floor, dabbing gently at my cheekbone with a sponge that smelled faintly of roses.
