Merrick: Harlequins MC (52 page)

“That would be your ex-husband,” McReed said. “Who is currently missing?”

“I don't know where in the hell he is,” she said. “And I don't care. I know you've been working with him and I was afraid you were coming to take me back to him. That's why I ran.”

McReed looked at me levelly. “I wasn't working with him,” McReed snapped. “He claimed you were kidnapped. I looked into it. It was a police matter. When I found you with the Dragons and you told me you hadn't, in fact, been kidnapped but were there of your own volition, I backed off. Didn't I?”

She looked at him. He had backed off after she'd convinced him she was with Damon of her own free will. But convincing him had been a chore all in and of itself.

“But you made some very serious allegations, Cassie,” he said. “Domestic abuse isn't something to play around with. We take it very seriously around here. But until we're able to locate your husband, that's all they are: allegations. Unsubstantiated allegations.”

She looked at him and her mouth fell open. His tone made it clear he didn't believe her husband had abused her. But then, given the fact that he clearly didn't seem to have a problem with beating a woman, maybe he thought she deserved it.

“You sound like you don't believe me,” she said.

McReed shrugged. “Doesn't matter what I believe about that, does it? But given how lippy and uppity you've been with me, maybe you had it coming. Not saying it's right, I'm just saying a man has a breaking point.”

“You son of a bitch,” her voice was barely above a whisper.

“What do you want me to say?” McReed said. “He's not here to defend himself. All I have is the word of a woman who obviously has no problems lying. And covering up for criminals.”

Tears stung her eyes and she fought to keep them from falling. McReed looked at her with an expression of smug superiority. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to reach across the table and slap that look right off his face. Instead, Cassie pushed the sleeves of her shirt up to the elbow. He watched as she turned my arms over, exposing the undersides of them.

Cassie saw his eyes grow wide and a look of surprise spread across his face as he took in the scars – scars, like the memories that went along with them, she would have to live with for the rest of her life.

“Nothing more than allegations?” she said and pointed to three round scars. “These were from a cigarette. Andy was pissed that I dropped a bottle of wine on the ground. Punched me in the stomach and then while I was on the ground trying to catch my breath, he put his cigarette to my arm to teach me a lesson in being more careful.”

McReed looked at her, flabbergasted. He had no idea what to say when confronted with the truth of her “allegations.”

“And this,” she said, pointing to a small, inch long scar just below her elbow, “is from his steak knife. He stuck it in my arm because I'd cooked his stake medium well instead of medium.”

McReed lowered his eyes and refused to look at her. The bluster was gone and he was silent.

“I can show you more if you'd like,” she hissed.

McReed shook his head, still refusing to meet her eyes.

“I'm done with this,” she said. “Now, you either charge me or I'm walking out of here. Do you have anything to charge me with?”

He looked up at her and she saw a small spark of anger in his eyes again. But it was more subdued than before.

“No,” he said. “Not at this time.”

“Great.”

Cassie stood up and rolled down her sleeves, never taking her eyes off of him. she stepped around the table and headed for the door.

“Stick around Kingston,” McReed said, trying to reassert his control. “I may have more questions for you later.”

CHAPTER
THIRTY SIX

“Shame,” he said. “I was looking forward to seeing you in handcuffs.”

“Who says you can't?”

Cassie walked over to where Damon was standing with a flirty, seductive grin on her face and wrapped her arms around his neck. He gave her a long, deep kiss and held her tightly against his body. Eventually, he broke the kiss and pulled back, looking her in the eye.

“So everything went according to plan, did it?” he asked.

She nodded. “It did. I left there with McReed feeling like I'd just kicked him in the nuts.”

“I wish you had.”

She smiled. “That makes two of us.”

They walked away from my bike, hand in hand, down Kingston's main street. She smiled at him and he squeezed her hand. It was a strange feeling. With all of the chaos and drama going on, walking along the street with her on a beautiful day felt…strangely normal. It felt nice.

“There's something I need to do,” she said.

“What's that?”

“Pay for my breakfast.”

“Pay for your breakfast?”

She nodded and smiled. “McReed's guys dragged me out of the diner before I had a chance to settle the check. And I feel awful about stiffing Marcia on the tip.”

Damon laughed. Leave it to her to be worried about something like that. “Where I come from, we'd call that a win. Nothing wrong with free food.”

She punched him in the arm playfully. “I know you better than that,” she said. “You're not the dine and dash type.”

“There's a type?”

She nodded. “Of course there is. Slimy, cheap, scuzzy guys.”

“Well, I'm certainly not cheap anyway.”

Cassie laughed and squeezed me tight. “You're not slimy or scuzzy either.”

“Some might disagree with you,” he said, looking at an older woman who crossed to the other side of the street, giving him hard looks the entire time.

Cassie watched the older woman go. “Some people are idiots.”

They arrived at the diner and he told Cassie he'd wait outside while she went in to do what she needed to do. She was a good woman with a good heart. Most people wouldn't have thought twice about getting out of a check. Much less about stiffing the waitress on a tip. But Cassie wasn't most people. And Damon liked that about her. She helped keep him grounded, centered. She helped keep him an honest man.

Damon watched her through the windows, laughing and joking with the waitress. He slipped the phone out of his pocket and punched in Carl's number. Leaning against the wall, he held the phone to his ear and waited for the call to be connected.

“Where are you?” Carl said without greeting or preamble. Typical Carl.

“In town,” he said. “With Cassie.”

“Yeah, how's that going?”

Damon knew what Carl was asking. It wasn't that he was actually asking about how things were going between he and Cassie. Nor was he asking how she held up after a rough couple of days. What Carl was really asking was whether or not his ass was covered. Whether or not the club's ass was covered. But Damon wasn't going to give him the satisfaction just yet.

“She's good,” he said. “Held up well all things considered. Apparently gave McReed more than he could handle down in interrogation.”

Damon heard him sigh slightly, not enjoying the game. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“It's not me you should be apologizing to.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“No, definitely,” he snapped. “She didn't sign up for this, man. What in the hell were you thinking giving her all that shit?”

“She signed up for it when she decided to squat in the clubhouse.”

“No, she didn't, man.”

Damon heard the irritation rising in Carl's voice, but didn't care. Carl didn't like to be questioned. Not about anything. Especially not about this. He'd made a judgment call. While Damon knew he hadn't intended for it to blow up in his face the way it had, it still had. Cassie had been caught in the crossfire and it didn't set well with Damon. Nor did Carl's cavalier attitude about it.

“Look,” Carl said. “I made a call. You don't like it, fine. But this is my club and it was my call to make. So you're gonna have to learn to swallow it down and deal with it.”

“That's bullsh – ”

“You want out?” Carl snapped. “Say the word. You don't like the way I'm doing things? You know where the door is, man.”

Carl's words hit him like a two by four upside the head. He'd never used that tone or said anything like that to him before. This wasn't the first time they'd butted heads over something in all the years they'd known each other, but for some reason, this seemed more personal to him. And it seemed like he was willing to throw away their friendship over it.

“That's not what I'm saying, Carl.”

“That's what I'm saying, though,” he said, his voice tight with anger. “You aren't calling the shots here, Damon. I am.”

he was shocked Carl had put their friendship on the line like that, but Damon was still angry about the fact that he'd used Cassie. And that the call he'd made had almost landed her in prison.

“We've obviously got a lot to talk about, man,” Damon said. “But I called to tell you the heat's off. McReed's got nothing on us.”

“And the bag?”

“Yeah, I'm working on that.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Damon's anger flared up again so he tried to keep it in check. He didn't need to throw gasoline on the bonfire that was already burning between them.

“It means Cassie had to ditch the bag when she was running from the cops and the dogs last night.”

“Ditched it where?”

“I don't know.”

“Have you asked her?”

He looked through the windows and saw that the waitress was giving Cassie a big smile and a hug.

“Not yet,” he said. “She just got out of the station, man. McReed spent most of the morning sweating her.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “You sure she didn't give us up?

Damon sighed. “I'm sure.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Are you sitting in jail right now, Carl?” he snapped. “Am I?”

At that moment – Damon felt as if the universe was screwing with him – a Kingston PD cruiser rolled by and slowed down. His heart stuttered as he looked at the two cops who were staring daggers back at him. He knew them and they were McReed's guys. Assholes. Damon smiled and gave them the finger as they drove on. Which confirmed his belief she hadn't given us up.

“You need to get that bag back, Damon.”

“You think?”

“Don't push me, man. Not today.”

Damon shook his head. This conversation wasn't going as he'd planned. He figured Carl would be relieved to hear that McReed was walking away empty-handed again. Instead, it was more of the same tension and conflict they'd been going through for a while.

“Let me make this clear,” Carl said, “you need to get that bag back to me PDQ or I'm going to take your patch.”

“Are you fuckin' serious right now?”

“Do I sound like I'm joking?”

Damon sighed loudly. “Whatever, man. You'll get your shit back.”

He disconnected the call and dropped the phone back into his pocket as Cassie stepped back out onto the street. She looked at him, concern etched upon her face.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I'm good,” he said. “The waitress looks pretty pleased.”

“She's a sweet lady,” Cassie said. “Said I remind her of her daughter.”

Damon nodded and smiled but remained quiet. His thoughts and emotions were a whirlwind. There was so much going on in his head and he didn't quite know how to organize or process it.

“Who were you talking to?” she asked.

“Carl.”

Cassie nodded as if she'd read his mind and understood what he was going through. Given how perceptive she was, not to mention how in tune with him she seemed to be, she probably did understand.

“We'll get his things back to him,” she said.

Damon pulled her into a tight embrace. “I know,” I said. “I know we will.”

What he didn't know at the moment was whether or not his friendship with Carl was going to survive, whether there was still a place for him in the club, or whether he even still wanted that place.