Page 64 of Stella
“If you get an ear in the mail, we really need to start worrying,” Jon laughs. I’m glad they all find it so fucking amusing, but this makes no sense.
“It’s annoying,” I say. “Someone’s playing stupid games, and if that comes back with DNA, they’ll be getting a nice little visit and a pair of handcuffs for wasting valuable police time.”
“Wow, cranky today.” Willow pouts. “Did someone strike out on the weekend?”
“I get plenty,” I lie. “More than I know what to do with.” It’s all fucking lies because there’s only one woman that could ever satisfy my thirst.
The boys laugh. Willow is one of the boys. But I take note of the fact she was married to Haze; one of the boys from the Rebels, who now run their own security company called Nomad Brothers. She doesn’t have much to do with him now, especially after the last commotion right here in this station when the Rebels took matters into their own hands by questioning a suspect. Damn bikers. They just can’t keep their noses out of police business. She despises Haze, and that’s gotta be a good thing so he doesn’t cloud her judgment. I’m one to talk, because all I’m letting Stella do is cloud my every waking judgment on every fucking decision I make, and she doesn’t even realize the impact she has on me.
My mind flicks to her. She’s one of those damn bikers, and I didn’t seem to have a problem with it when I had my mouth and hands on her last night. Nope, all of that went out the window. Jesus. I’m in so fucking deep. As much as I tell myself I need to stay away, and that I shouldn’t have turned up at her place, I don’t mean a word of it. And yes, I wanted more. Of course I did. She’s absolutely beautiful. The way her body is curved in all the right places. Those perfect tits and how it felt to suckle and play with them. Oh, I could’ve spent all night making her beg for my cock, but where is that gonna get us in the long run? Aside from being less frustrated, which is something I’m learning to live with because my palm certainly doesn’t make up for what could be if she was in my bed.
The most comical part? I didn’t even get the jacket in the end, and I don’t fucking care because imagining her wearing it is enough to heat my blood and make my palms sweat.
I wish I could get past it, but every time I try, I see Stella’s face; eyes closed, lips parted, cheeks flushed with her tits out as I bring her to orgasm. I didn’t even penetrate, but one can only imagine how tight she is.
Luke waves a hand in front of my face. “Earth to Callaghan.”
She also has this natural ability to make me blank out when I should be concentrating.
I glance at him. “What?”
“I said, let’s get this to the lab and then we can maybe start piecing something together.”
“I’ll take it,” I say. “Got a couple of things to do before we get back into it with the case.”
He nods. “Sounds like a plan.”
I crack my neck from side to side as I drop the sample off at the lab, Calli trotting next to me. There should be something back in a few days; only because I jumped the queue because someone somewhere always owes me a favor.
Right now we’re working on a drug shipment case; ever since the Rebels brought down the mafia, who were trying to re-establish themselves back in New Orleans after a few-decade hiatus, shit got real for a little while there. We know about the Irish, and we’re keeping a close eye on them. We also know while the Rebels have legit businesses, that doesn’t make them exempt from criminal activity. I understand Cash turned his back on drugs, guns and trafficking years ago, and that’s something, but they’re still involved in some of the bad shit that goes down in this city.
I do owe them some credit; when they were heavily involved in tearing down a trafficking operation a little while ago, the department got all the glory. It made me open my eyes a little. I wondered, are the MC so bad if they were instrumental in putting those bad guys away? But knowing what I know about Cash Hudson makes me think otherwise. He has no clue thatI know all about him and his past. A past that included his stepbrother, Razor, from a rival MC who’s now dead, and a long list of questions about how and when and where. There’s only one reason I’ve stayed away from reopening that case, and it’s because I heard years ago my mom was involved with the MC briefly. Maybe that’s when I really started hating them. Perhaps if not for the Rebels, or the rival club the Devils, she wouldn’t have wound up a junkie with a kid on her hip she didn’t want. A kid she dumped off and left for dead. I should be grateful she even took the time to dump me at my grandparents’ house and not just leave me some place else. I’ve tried to find some redeeming qualities in her, but I’ve yet to find any. Sometimes you hear that ‘they did it so you could have a better life, ’ but I think she left me because she wanted to continue the party life. A party life with bikers like Cash and Razor. If she hung out with them back then, before she ever got hooked on drugs and alcohol, then they are partly to blame. Maybe she wouldn’t have turned into such a monumental fuck-up. I guess we’ll never know. On the positive side; she left me with my grandparents, so it could’ve been worse. At least there was one redeeming quality in her, after all.
That’s one of the things that keeps me from ever respecting the MC, because despite how Cash Hudson likes to present himself as the world’s kindest and sincere motorcycle prez, I know the truth. I know he’s just like everybody else. He’ll put the bikers first, before the law, and that just isn’t how we do things around here.
What’s more? It’s my job to make sure the Rebels keep their place in this city, and that place is second to the authorities. It’s not being in charge of the city like they think they are.We’rethe rulers of New Orleans, not him, and not his MC. They may think they’re above the law, and have gotten away with more than they think we know about, but I’ve been watching them. One of thesedays, Cash Hudson will slip up. He may hide behind doing a few good deeds, but the MC are always in it for themselves.
What about the innocent civilians who get caught in the crossfire of one of their many beefs? Mafia. Rival motorcycle clubs. Drug cartels. Corrupt police. Crazy stalkers. Insane ex-lovers, family and so-called friends. Business deals gone wrong.
What about the victims of overdoses and addiction with the drugs they may not peddle, but they clearly know about and look the other way.
What about all the missing people who disappear without a trace? Okay, maybe they are the bad guys, and criminals and murderers alike, but that isn’t for them to decide.
They have no respect for the law, and I’m not into taking matters into my own hands. Well, I may have lost it the other day with Blake, but that’s different. Nobody got seriously hurt, and he got arrested. Not dismembered and dumped out in the bayou like the Rebels would’ve done. I still believe in the judicial system, and punishment. The Rebels don’t. They dish out their own form of punishment, and fuck the rules.
This is exactly why me and Stella can never work. Because every time I think about my mom, all I’m reminded of is that club, and how she turned out. How she left me. How she broke my grandparents’ hearts. They never quite recovered from hearing about the loss of their daughter at such a young age. She never had the opportunity to do something with her life because all of that was taken away from her. So yeah, you could say I’m bitter, but that bitterness has made me who I am. I’m a good cop. And I can’t be bought, but I’m also no saint. I’ve looked the other way at times that called for it, but I’ve never taken a bribe. I’m not a dirty cop, and if I continue things with Stella, it’ll only be a matter of time before the lines get blurred.
Neither of us has texted each other since last night, and that’s probably a good thing. We both need time to cool off. The lastthing I want right now is to be making any sudden moves when my head is fucked up over this one girl.
Maybe if I leave it alone, all of it will go away. I don’t need to be going to her apartment or her work, nor do I need to text her and find out how she is. Ghosting her may be the only option, because I sure as fuck don’t want to be the one to hurt her feelings. I’d never take her virginity just to have as some kind of sick trophy knowing that I had no intention of a relationship. That would be a dick move, one I wouldn’t indulge in. Does it mean I want her any less? No, but the realization about what this MC is has refueled my reasons for keeping her at arm’s length. There will be conflicts of interest. Then there’s the club making Stella’s life a living hell, possibly even disowning her. That would all be because of me, and it would be a dick move on my part. If only I hadn’t kissed her, felt her, tasted her. Then I wouldn’t know what it was like. Now I just have the memory.
Calli whines, and I glance down. Of course, she knows something’s up. I pet her head.
“It’s okay, girl,” I say. “Dad’s fucked up, but I’m gonna make it right.”
And by making it right, I mean leaving things as is. She may hate me to begin with because I haven’t texted her, but she’ll thank me in the end. I can’t come between her and the club, even if a selfish part of me wants to, just to see who she’d choose.
The club has her loyalties, that much I know. It’s in her blood, and there’s no competing with that. I, of all people, know that blood is most certainly thicker than water, and she has plenty of support in her camp. The last thing she needs is me getting in the way.
