Merrick: Harlequins MC (40 page)

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

“Let's take a ride,” Carl said.

Damon looked at him questioningly, but didn't say anything. It wasn't often Carl went out for a pleasure ride these days, so he figured the older man had something he needed to talk about. Or just something he needed to say and get off his chest. And given the fact that he was taking a ride away from the club to say it, Damon figured he didn't want anybody else overhearing what was on his mind. He knew Carl well enough to know that whatever it might be was a serious matter – which probably meant it wasn't good.

They rode through the winding, tree-lined roads for a good half an hour when Carl pulled to a stop on a shoulder. Damon followed suit, shut off his bike and put the kickstand down, waiting for Carl to make the next move. The older man reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a six-pack of beer.

“Come on,” he said.

He led Damon down a seldom-used path that cut through the forest. The sun was high in the sky, but there was still a bit of a chill in the air. The birds chirped in the branches high above them and the trees were a riot of color. It was one thing Damon had to admit he loved about the area. He wasn't as cultured as some people, wasn't much of an art or wine aficionado, but he could appreciate things like the beauty of nature.

Carl stopped at the bank of a small river and took a seat on a log, motioning for Damon to join him. He took a seat next to the older man and took the beer Carl offered him. He popped the top and took a long swallow, waiting for Carl to speak his piece. But the older man waited and didn't say anything for several long moments. He had a faraway look in his eyes as he stared out at the river, seeming content to enjoy the scenery and a cold beer. But the longer the silence went on, the more uncomfortable Damon grew. It told him there was something big weighing on Carl's mind and if he had to guess, Damon would have said it had something to do with Cassie.

“I've always loved it out here this time of year,” Carl said.

Damon nodded. “Me, too.”

“Not enough people stop to just enjoy nature. It's a beautiful thing.”

“Yeah.”

Carl finished off his beer and opened a second one. Damon was growing a little impatient. He knew it would all come out soon but Carl was just dragging it out. Damon was never one who liked to delay things. If there were something he needed to deal with, he would rather get it out into the open and deal with it rather than play games and keep the other person guessing.

“So, what's on your mind, Carl?”

“You know, when I first took over this club,” Carl said, “they were a rowdy bunch. Brawlers. Violent. Killed people. Got themselves killed. They were running guns and running drugs and being stupid about it. Half the club was locked up and the other half was a hair's breadth of getting themselves locked up. I really didn't know if the Dragons were going to make it. I knew if I wanted the club to survive, we were going to have to get smarter. Do some things differently. Do everything differently.”

Damon didn't know the full history of the club. He didn't know Carl when he first assumed the club's presidency. “And you did it. You brought the club back from the brink and now it’s flourishing.”

“Because we were smart about things,” Carl said. “We stopped the ass-stomping mentality and got ourselves off the cops' radar. For the most part. We flourished because we started doing business differently. We were smart about it. And we've all benefited from it.”

“I agree.”

Carl sighed and took another swallow of beer. He stood up and walked to the edge of the water. After a couple of moments, he turned around. “And you're puttin' it all at risk, Damon,” he said. “You're puttin' all of
us
at risk.”

“What are you talking about, man?”

Carl looked at him and Damon could see the anger behind his eyes. The older man lit a cigarette and exhaled the plume of smoke with an irritated sounding breath. “You really gonna try to play me like that, man?” Carl asked.

Damon shook his head. “Seriously. What are you talking about?”

“Cassie,” Carl said, his tone hard as steel. “Or, more specifically, her former husband, Andy.”

Damon felt the knot in his stomach tighten as a shot of adrenaline surged through him. The night he came back to the club after killing Cassie's ex, he hadn't specifically said he'd done it. But it seemed to be pretty clear, if unspoken. Damon was worried because he didn't know what had happened or what was going on. As far as he knew, since that night, things had been good. “What about him?” Damon asked as he shook a cigarette out of his own pack and lit it.

Carl's shook his head and chuckled. “Did you know our good friend, Detective McReed, is practically begging his bosses for permission to come rattle our cages?”

McReed had been a pain in their asses for as long as Damon could remember. He was always rousting them for one thing or another. McReed just assumed they were up to no good and had always had it in for the club. He'd tried to pin different things on them at different times, but had never been able to get anything to stick. Which pissed him off. McReed was a lazy cop and always tried to grab the lowest hanging fruit that would make him look good in the eyes of his bosses come promotion time. The fact that he'd never been able to get anything solid on the Dragons was a failure that bugged him to no end – which only made him more determined to get something on them.

Credit Carl and the smart way he did business and ran the club. He was always a step ahead of cops like McReed.

“Dude's always had a hard on for us,” Damon said and took a drag of his smoke. “You know that.”

“Yeah, I do know that. He's had a huge hard on for us for a long time,” Carl said. “And you just gave him what he needed to fuck us with it.”

“I seriously have no idea what you're talking about, man.”

“Andy,” Carl said. “He wants to open a missing person's case. Wants to come check us all out to make sure we're not holding your little piece of ass hostage.”

“He can come by and ask her himself,” Damon shrugged. “She'll say no, he goes away, no big deal.”

“Oh great, glad you have it all figured out,” Carl snapped.

“I don't get why you're so pissed off, man,” Damon said. “If he wants to ask Cassie if she's being held hostage or not, he can ask her. I'll take her down to the station myself.”

“You don't fuckin' get it, man,” Carl said. “This whole thing with Cassie and her ex is bullshit. McReed doesn't give two shits about either of them. It's a pretext to get into the club and have a look around. And what do you think he's going to find there?”

Now Damon understood why Carl was so pissed off. It made sense and Damon was kicking his own ass for not seeing it sooner. He shook his head and sighed. Carl had been right when he said that Cassie was clouding his judgment. But she was also helping him see things differently – and more clearly.

“She told me what happened,” Carl said flatly.

“With what?” Damon asked without looking up.

“Her old man,” he replied. “She said you capped him that night.”

“It's not like you didn't know,” Damon said quietly.

“Don't,” Carl said, his voice icy cold. “Don't even pull that bullshit with me, Damon.”

“Look, I don't know what you want me to say, man. That asshole was choking her out. She was going to die if I hadn't showed up. What was I supposed to do, let him kill her?”

The older man looked at him. “Yeah, maybe. Because by killing him, you were only thinking of yourself. You weren't thinking of the club. You weren't thinking of the shitstorm you were throwing us all into. You were thinking of yourself, your cock, and that little piece of ass. Period.”

Damon couldn't believe what Carl was saying. “What do you want from me, man? What the fuck do you want me to say here?”

Carl threw his cigarette to the ground and viciously stomped on it. “I want you to tell me you give a shit about this club, goddamit. I want you to tell me your loyalty is with us and not some piece of ass you're gonna be done with in a month.”

Damon stood up, his anger swelling within him. That Carl would even question his loyalty infuriated him. And his blatant disrespect of Cassie only fueled that rage. Not that he'd ever admit it to Carl, but things with Cassie were different. Yeah, he'd gone through his share of women, but Cassie was more than just a piece of ass he'd be done with in a month. A lot more. “I've done more for this club,” Damon hissed, “I've risked more for this club than most of the assholes you've given a fuckin' patch to. Don't you dare question my loyalty.”

“I know you have, man,” Carl said. “That's why I haven't taken your patch yet.”

“Yet?” Damon looked at him, dumbfounded. “You seriously thinking about taking my patch?”

The club's patch was its highest honor. It was only given to those who proved their worth and loyalty to the club beyond the shadow of a doubt. Stripping somebody of their patch and casting them out of the club was the nuclear option and wasn't something that was done lightly. Knowing it was on the table for Carl hit Damon hard. It was like a punch to the gut that almost took his breath away.

“I've given my life to this club,” Carl said. “I've given it my soul. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a kid and I love ya, but I have to think about the best interests of this club – and everybody in it – first and foremost.”

“Look,” Damon said. “I did what I had to do to protect Cassie. And they're never going to find Andy. I told you I took care of it and I did. We're golden, man.”

“It wasn't your fight to begin with,” Carl said. “You never should have gotten involved in the first place. You don't always got to be some chick's white knight, man. It fucks up your thinkin'. You make bad decisions.”

“And letting her die would have been a good decision?”

“Not ideal, I'll give you that. But at least you would have been looking out for the club.”

With his fists clenched at his sides, Damon tried to control himself. He'd never been this angry with Carl before – had never felt the urge to punch him and keep punching him. But he was there, teetering on the brink. His body shook with his rage and he wasn't sure he was going to be able to pull himself back from that edge.

“What are you gonna do here, Damon? Hit me? Kick the shit out of me?”

He didn't want to fight Carl. He'd known him for a long time and had been the closest thing to a father figure he'd ever had. Damon turned around and let out a breath, tried to get himself under control again. He needed to go. Get out of there. He needed to get away from Carl and clear his head. Damon needed some time and space to think about a lot of things that were going through his mind. Without another word, Damon started back up the path they'd come down.

“Get your head straight, kid,” Carl called after him. “If any of your shit sticks to this club in any way, don't think I won't take your fuckin' patch.”

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Carl stood in the garage with Damon, the anger radiating from the older man palpable. Damon was tense. He'd half expected it, but it was still not what he'd wanted to go down. And Carl's obvious anger was only making his tension worse.

Breaker had given them a heads up that trouble was on the way and Carl had told everybody to get out before that trouble landed. The club was empty except for Cassie and the two of them – and Detective Dale McReed.

“What do you want, McReed?” Carl asked.

“What, no pleasantries today, Carl?” the man asked, his tone smug and condescending. “Not going to invite me in for a beer?”

“All out of beer,” Damon said. “And we're running low on patience, so get to it. What in the hell do you want?”

McReed looked at Damon, tried to stare him down and intimidate him with his steely glare. But Damon was about as far from intimidated as one could be.

“That hardass look you got right now,” Damon said, “you have to practice that in the mirror a lot?”

“You gettin' smart with me?”

“Doesn't take much to be smarter than you, McReed,” Damon said. “Any five year old is.”

Carl chuckled but tried to calm things down. “Why don't you both grab a ruler, whip 'em out, and see whose is bigger already? This macho posturing shit is getting old.”

“So why don't you tell us what's on your mind, Detective?” Damon added.

McReed continued to glare at Damon, making him smile at the cop and shake his head. McReed was nothing but a punk with a badge. He'd dealt with people like him in the military, dudes who thought a uniform gave them some sort of power and authority over everybody. But Damon was pretty sure that if things went really sideways and the bullets started to fly, the cop would piss himself and run away. He wasn't the kind who was going to stand in and trade either shots or punches with anybody.

“A better attitude from you would be a good start,” McReed said.

Damon smirked. “Yeah. Good luck with that.”

“What do you want, McReed?” Carl repeated. “If you want to sit here and just play the hardass, I've got better things to be doing with my time.”

The tension in the air was thick. It amused Damon to no end that McReed actually thought he could intimidate them. Bully them. Get them to bend to his will simply because he flashed a badge and gave them some hardass look he probably saw on some cop show on TV.

“Fine,” he said. “Let's cut to the chase. I'm following up on a couple of things. The first thing being a report that you are holding a young woman against her will.”

Damon laughed. “This is bullshit,” he said. “You really think we'd be holding somebody here against their will? With you always looking for some reason to hassle us already?”

“Her husband sure seems to think you're keeping his wife here against her will.”

“Her husband is an idiot,” Damon snapped.

“Yeah, he didn't have too high of an opinion of you either,” McReed said. “Told me you threatened him a few times.”

Damon shrugged. “And, of course, you believe every word that asshole says.”

“In my experience,” McReed said, “the Dragons aren't exactly law-abiding citizens. So yeah, I tend to believe him.”

“And if you had anything on us,” Carl chimed in, “we'd already be in cuffs. So why are you out here jerkin' us off like this?”

“I want to talk to the wife. I want to hear it straight from her.”

“Cassie,” Carl called. “Can you come out here for a minute?”

Cassie had been in the kitchen waiting for them to call her. She figured they would be since she was the reason – or at least, the pretext – for McReed's visit. She stepped into the garage where the three men were standing and walked over to the cop. Carl and Damon took a couple of steps back to give them a little room and to prevent McReed from saying they had been intimidating her. He looked her up and down, scrutinizing her.

“If you're looking for bruises or something,” Cassie said, “you won't find any.”

“Is that because they took care not to leave any?”

She gave him a look of pure contempt. “It's because they haven't mistreated me. Not like that scumbag, abusive ex-husband of mine.”

“Uh huh. You sure about that?”

“Positive,” she snapped. “Carl and Damon have been nothing but gentlemen. They've been kind and compassionate. That piece of shit I was married to used to beat on me day in and day out. If you want to arrest somebody, go arrest him because as far as I'm concerned, Carl and Damon are stand up guys.”

“Well, I would love to have a chat with your husband – ”

“Ex-husband.”

“Not until you file for divorce and actually sign the papers,” McReed admonished her. “But as I was saying, I would love to have a chat with him, but he seems to have dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Gee, that's too bad,” Cassie said.

“It is too bad. But you wouldn't know anything about his disappearance, would you?”

“No. I wouldn't.”

McReed eyed Damon and Carl for a long moment before turning his attention back to Cassie. “You didn't say – have your new friends here rough him up for you? Or maybe do something worse?”

Cassie sighed. “No, I did not,” her tone was brittle and icy. “I just wanted him out of my life for good. And the only way to do that was to cut off all contact with him.”

“Actually, the only way to do that was to have him killed,” McReed observed. “You didn't do that did you, Cassie? Have him killed?”

“You really are as ridiculous as everybody says you are,” she said. “I don't know why you're hassling me or the Dragons, officer. I am here of my own free will. I was not kidnapped. And the fact that you would give serious consideration to a wife beater tells me all I need to know about you.”

McReed held his hands up with his palms facing her. “Hey, I'm just trying to get to the bottom of things. He came to me with a complaint and it's my job to follow up on it.”

“Doing his job. That's a first,” Damon muttered.

Carl shot him a dark look. “Well, since you can see that Cassie is here of her own free will and she knows nothing about her ex-husband's disappearance – if he really did disappear – it looks like you can check both of those things off your to-do list and move along.”

McReed looked at Damon for a long moment before turning back to Carl. “You won't mind, then, if I have a look around for myself? Just to confirm the veracity of your statement.”

Without waiting for an answer, McReed turned and walked toward the door that led into the clubhouse. Carl had been anticipating the move and casually stepped in front of him. The two men stood practically nose to nose for several long, tense moments, their eyes locked as they engaged in a battle of wills. Damon took a couple of steps toward them, his body tense and ready.

“You gonna get out of my way?” McReed asked.

“Not unless you got a warrant,” Carl said calmly.

McReed smirked. “You got something to hide?”

Carl chuckled. “Not a damn thing. But given the size of the hard on you have for us, I don't want to lead you into the temptation of planting evidence or finding some reason to keep hassling us.”

“Not allowing me to search the premises makes it look like you've got something to hide.”

Damon shrugged. “Don't care how it looks,” he said. “But we're not letting a dirty cop with an axe to grind wander around our clubhouse. Keeps things from getting…complicated.”

A smile tugged at the corner of McReed's mouth. “So you're not going to let me take a look around?”

Carl shook his head. “Not without a warrant. And without probable cause, good luck getting one.”

McReed nodded. “Oh, I'll get one. Don't you worry about that. And when I do, I'll be back.”

“And we'll be here,” Damon said.

McReed gave them all one last look before turning and walking out of the garage and out to his car. They waited until he'd driven off before they all seemed to let out a breath. Carl gave Damon and Cassie a long, hard look before turning and walking back into the clubhouse without a word.