Page 36 of Her Savior Biker
“Sure you do.” Rector opens the folder. “Fort Carson, right? You’re in charge of prisoner transport and contraband searches. Must be nice.”
“You’re fishing,” Mason says, sweat beading on his forehead.
“Am I?” Rector holds up an eight-by-ten glossy. Even from across the lot, I see Mason in uniform next to a transport vehicle. “That’s you, three weeks ago, removing a duffel bag from a prisoner transport. And that’s you passing it to Carlos Mendez, a known associate of the Torrino crime family.”
One of the MPs takes an involuntary step back. “Captain, what is this?”
“Lies,” Mason snarls.
“Oh, I’m just getting started.” Rector produces another document. “My friends were curious about your bank accounts,too. Funny how a captain’s salary can suddenly include thirty-thousand-dollar cash deposits.”
The lead CID agent moves forward, his hand going to his radio. “Agent Morrison—”
“Wait,” Rector holds up a hand. “There’s more. I’ve got three different prisoners willing to testify about the smuggling arrangements you made. I also have testimony from Staff Sergeant Jennifer Walsh, who witnessed you removing contraband from the evidence locker.”
Mason’s face goes white. “Jenny wouldn’t—”
“Oh, but she did. Seems she’s been keeping records for months.” Rector closes the folder with a snap. “Brave woman. Especially, considering the abuse you subjected her to.”
The lead MP steps forward, his hand hovering over his weapon. “Captain Holt, you need to come with us.”
“This is bullshit!” Mason explodes. “A setup!”
“With federal surveillance photos?” the agent’s voice is deadly calm. “With testimony from your own subordinates? Bank records?”
Mason’s gaze darts around, a trapped animal. It lands on me, pure hatred. “This is about her,” he snarls, pointing at Shannon. “You’re all protecting a whore—”
“Captain.” The lead agent’s voice cuts through his rant. “You need to stop talking. Now.”
But Mason is too far gone. “I gave her everything. A home, security, a father for her bastard son. And she throws it away for some ex-con biker?”
“Actually,” Rector says conversationally, “his discharge was honorable. Took my guy a couple days to find the real records, but seems there was a clerical error. Turns out when you save three civilians from an IED, the Army tends to overlook a few bar fights.”
The revelation hollows out my chest.Honorable discharge.After all these years believing I’d been thrown away, that I’d failed the only family I’d ever known…
“How does twenty years in military prison sound, Mason?” Rector’s voice brings me back.
Mason’s legs give out, and he slides down the side of his SUV to the asphalt. The fight leaves him. “I was trying to help her,” he whispers.
“By breaking her son’s arm?” The question comes from one of his own MPs, disgust in the man’s voice.
Mason looks up at Shannon, his expression hardening one last time. “You were nothing when I found you. I was going to make you respectable.”
Shannon moves forward, her voice carrying the strength of a woman who has found her power. “I was never nothing,” she says quietly. “I was just waiting for the right man to see my worth.” She moves beside me, taking my hand. “And I found him.”
The simple gesture, her choosing me publicly, means more than any declaration of love. Mason stares at our joined hands and laughs bitterly. “He’s a worthless as you are.”
“No,” Shannon says with absolute certainty. “He isn’t.”
The lead agent steps forward, handcuffs ready. “Captain Mason Holt, you’re under arrest for conspiracy to distribute controlled substances, abuse of authority, and trafficking in narcotics.”
As they read him his rights, he starts shouting, going ballistic as the officer reaches for him. “This isn’t over! You hear me, Shannon? You were nothing but a low-life whore when I found you, and that’s all you’ll ever be!”
The words are a slap. Shannon flinches. A dark, violent rage ignites in my chest.
I’m moving before my brain can stop me. The lead CID agent starts to step between us but catches Tank’s eye. The agent hesitates, gives a nearly imperceptible shake of his head, and turns his attention pointedly back to his other men.
That’s all the opening I need.
