Banger's Ride: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 5) (20 page)

“If she bothers you again, you let me know. I’ll set her straight. Better yet, tell Banger. The Insurgents will make sure she gets the message loud and clear.” Ruthie laughed.

“I think I can handle it, but I’ll keep your offer in mind. I better get back to work. I’m sure Jerome is freaking out about now.”

While she deep fried the Thursday night special—fried chicken—she couldn’t help but think about all the money Harold had embezzled from the textile company. The shareholders had been livid, and she had several insurance and stock investigators questioning her for months before they were satisfied that she knew nothing. She’d been shocked to learn that Harold had stolen close to two million dollars. What had he done with it? She sighed. How could a man who told her he loved her almost daily betray her and leave her and their kids penniless? She’d been duped, and she had no plans of giving herself to Banger or any other man completely. Men could not be trusted. Period.

When her shift ended, she couldn’t wait to go home and put her feet up. Even though money was tight, she’d order pizza for her and Ethan; the last thing she had the energy for was to make dinner. After that woman came into the diner, Belle’s day had deteriorated with one mishap after another in the kitchen, and she couldn’t get the woman’s bitchy face from her mind. She couldn’t erase the images of the pretty woman’s lithe legs around Harold’s waist as he grunted and pushed into her.

The doorbell interrupted the slideshow playing out in her mind. “Is that the pizza already?” Ethan yelled down from his room.

“I don’t think so. I just called in the order less than five minutes ago.” Belle trudged to the door. “I’ll call you if it is.” She opened the door and stared into the face of a man dressed in a tweed jacket and yellow tie. “May I help you?”

The man pulled out a badge, and Belle’s heart dropped to her stomach.
Something’s happened to Emily. Oh, no. God, please let her be safe. Please let—

“Mrs. Belle Dermot?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I’m Detective Sanders from the Lakeview Police Department. I have a few questions I’d like to ask you. May I come in?”

Trying to unlock the screen door with trembling fingers proved to be nearly impossible. She smiled weakly then took several gulps of air, forcing herself to calm down. She finally unlocked the door. “Come in. Is this about Emily?” She led the detective to the living room, gesturing him to sit down. She sat on the couch, opposite him. “Well, is it?”

“Emily?”

“My daughter. That
is
why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“No, ma’am. I’m here to ask you some questions about the death of your husband, Harold Dermot.” He reached inside his jacket and took out a small notepad and a pen.

“Harold? He’s been dead for over a year. I don’t understand.”
What is it about today that makes all these people come out of the woodwork asking about Harold?

“Can you recount the details surrounding your husband’s death?”

The questioning went back and forth for about ten minutes, and it seemed to Belle as though the detective was hinting that Harold’s death may not have been due to natural causes. She rubbed her pounding temples.

“Can you tell me about the syringe that was found hidden in your silk bag among Harold’s papers in your storage unit?”

All of a sudden, she felt her body overheating. “Um… silk purse? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Detective Sanders showed her the picture of the purse and syringe he had retrieved from the storage unit after Jessica Dermot Hoskins had called him. “Do you recognize anything in the photograph?”

Belle tried hard to focus, but her eyes were playing tricks on her and everything was blurry. She rubbed them hard, then looked at the photo, concentrating. “Uh… The purse is mine, but I don’t recognize the syringe. It isn’t like any of the ones my husband used for his insulin shots. What does this mean?”

The detective continued playing a cat and mouse game with her, asking questions that indicated Harold’s death was suspicious, and even that she may have been involved. When she asked him what was going on, he only replied with circular answers.

“I’ve told you for the umpteenth time, like I told the investigators who came around after my husband passed, I don’t know anything about the money. Do you really think I’d have gone bankrupt and live like this—” Belle swept her outstretched arm “—if I had the money? I certainly wouldn’t be working ten-hour shifts on my feet at a diner.”

The doorbell rang, and Belle paid the pizza delivery man. “Pizza’s here,” she called at the bottom of the stairs. The detective stood up, thanking her for answering his questions. Ethan dashed down the stairs then stopped abruptly when he saw Detective Sanders. Belle placed her hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “This is my son, Ethan,” she said.

He nodded to Ethan. “I’ll let you know if I have any more questions,” he stated as he opened the screen door.

“Ethan, take the pizza to the kitchen. You can start without me.” She followed the detective out. Hugging her arms around her, she shivered in the cold, evening air. “You know, a woman came to the diner today to see me. She said she had been my husband’s mistress.” A brush of red crossed her cheeks. “She wanted money. She seemed angry that I didn’t have any. You should talk to her.”

Belle then gave the particulars to Sanders about her encounter. She watched him as he drove off in a dark blue Chevy Impala, his questions echoing in her head.
He thinks Harold was murdered. Who in the hell told him about the syringe? I bet it was that snooping bitch, Jessica. She’s been a pain in my ass since I married Harold. Fuck!

“Mom, aren’t you gonna eat?”

“Coming.” Belle walked inside the house and closed the door, shutting out the cold.

“I
fuckin’ need
money. When are we gonna kill the bitch?”

A soft voice with a steel edge replied, “When the time is right. We can’t rush this. You wanna get caught? Haven’t I delivered on all the others?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “How much we getting this time?”

“We’re looking at a million.”

“Each time we eliminate someone, the price goes up. I fuckin’ like that.”

“We just have to be sure that we play it smart. I don’t want any cops sniffing around.

The deep voice laughed. “I’m good at making things look like an accident. I’ve had a shitload of practice.” They both laughed.

“We gotta be careful about being seen together too much. There’s a detective snooping around asking all sorts of questions. He’s trying to dig up a bunch of shit.”

“Any chance he’ll find out the old man didn’t go the natural way?”

“I’m hoping he will. I know the Lakeview Police Department is incompetent, but maybe this detective has half a brain. Once he finds out it’s succinylcholine in the syringe, the grieving widow will be the prime suspect. It works out perfectly. We just need to put some distance between us and the investigation. I’ll let you know when the time is right.”

“Okay. I guess I can rob a couple of liquor stores while I wait.”

“Don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want you in the slammer. I’ll front you some money to hold you over.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be in touch.”

The person with the soft voice smiled. In about three months, Belle Dermot would be dead.

B
elle waved at
Cara as she rushed down the hallway of the courthouse, her heels clacking on the polished floors. “Sorry I’m late,” she breathed as she flopped down on the wooden bench outside the truancy courtroom.

“No worries,” Cara said as she leafed through several papers. “This is the report from the school. It’s not very good. It seems like Emily missed a lot of school last semester too. The judge isn’t going to like that. It’s good Emily is in a home with supervision.”

“You don’t think the judge will take her out of Holly and Darren’s home, do you?”

Cara shook her head. “As long as I can show that Emily has supervision and structure, then he’ll leave her with them. Judges don’t want to put kids in the foster care system, so we should be fine.”

A tall man in a sheriff’s uniform opened the courtroom door. Cara squeezed Belle’s hand. “We’re first on the calendar, let’s go in. It’s going to be all right.”

Thousands of butterflies fluttered in Belle’s stomach, and a wave of nausea washed over her. She followed the young lawyer into the courtroom and sat on the bench in the first row. When the door clicked open loudly, she looked back and saw Emily, Holly, and Darren walk in. “Hi, Emily,” she said.

Without acknowledging her, Emily sat on a bench across from her mother. Holly came over and hugged her, saying in a low voice, “It’s going to be okay.” Belle’s lips quivered, and she nodded.

Cara motioned for Emily to join her at the table she sat at, her notebook and law books strewn over it. Emily walked by her mother, her eyes staring straight ahead, and she jerked as though she’d been stung by a bee when Belle reached out and touched her hand. Emily took a seat next to Cara, her back to her mother. When the judge came in, everyone stood up, and Emily glanced over her shoulder at Holly and Darren, smiling slightly. Belle’s heart twisted.

After the school board presented its evidence, Cara introduced several documents and had Emily, Belle, Darren, and Holly take the stand. Before sentencing, Cara argued against suspension and detention in a juvenile facility.

Judge Rickers cleared his voice and looked over his glasses, which were perched on the middle of his nose, at Emily. He chewed her out for her indifference, her lack of regard for the rules, and her insolence. He ordered her to complete a ten-day detention. Instead of sending her away to juvenile detention, he told her he’d allow in-home detention, and she could follow along with her class online. From where Belle sat, she saw her daughter’s tight face, her dull eyes staring past the judge.

Judge Rickers took his glasses off and peered at Belle. “You have shirked your responsibility in providing a home for your daughter that fosters good habits, responsibility, and respect. You must take the brunt of her truancy and disregard for rules because you are the parent and you set the example. Unfortunately, the examples you have set have not been good ones. You are never home, you are cavorting with the president of an outlaw biker gang, and you have left your daughter to basically raise herself. Shame on you! If you did not have the kindness of your friends, who graciously offered to take your daughter in and give her a home with structure and supervision, you would have lost your daughter today. I will order a review hearing in forty-five days to see how the truant is doing in school and in her new home situation.” He looked to the court clerk to announce the date then tapped his gavel. “Court is adjourned.”

Belle sat speechless, her body shaking as raw pain coursed through her. Wide eyes blinked away briny tears before the world turned into a blur, all sounds, sights, and smells gone. She was an incompetent mother. She was to blame for the way Emily was turning out. How could that be? She loved her daughter and only wanted the best for her.

Cara’s hand on her shoulder pulled her back into the courtroom. Emily walked past her, and Belle called out, “Emily, I’ll call you. I love you.” Her daughter went over to Holly, who glanced at Belle, half-shrugged, then put her arm around Emily and walked out of the courtroom.

“Belle, don’t you dare believe a word that asshole judge said to you,” Cara whispered in her ear. “He’s a jerk and a bully. He’s got some major hostility toward women. Don’t pay attention. You’re a great mom.”

Belle smiled weakly. “My own daughter won’t even look at me, my son is stuck in after-school care now, and I see more of Jerome and Ruthie than I do my family. Yeah, I’m a great mom.”

“You’re doing the best you can.”

“I’m not looking for any adulations, and I’m not feeling sorry for myself. It is what it is, and I have to keep going on for Ethan.” She followed Cara out of the courtroom. “How did the judge know about Banger?”

“I was surprised when he said that. I guess the school board’s investigators really dig deep. Seems like a silly waste of taxpayers’ money on a truancy charge.”

After Belle said good-bye to Cara, she texted Banger:

Belle:
U doing anything tonight?

Banger:
Spending it with you.

She beamed, a funny feeling skipping across her heart.

Belle:
I’m making baked macaroni and cheese with smoked bacon, a tomato and radish salad, and country biscuits. Comfort food fest. I need it.

Banger:
You okay?

Belle:
No. Court today. Feeling the blues.

Banger:
Did the judge fuck up?

Belle:
No, I did.

Banger:
No fucking way. The system always fucks up. Not the people.

Belle:
:) Thx for that. Be over at 6:30. Bye.

Banger:
Can I come earlier?

She sighed. She craved a slice of quiet where she could wallow without talking, thinking, or feeling—alone time to simply be. Ethan wouldn’t be home from Luke’s until six.

Belle:
6:30 works out fine. See u.

She knew Banger would be thinking she was still distancing herself from him, and he’d be right. But for the time being, that was the best she could give him.

*     *     *