Undeniable (11 page)

Lie.  Biggest lie I had ever told.  But that last thing I wanted was a club whore feeling sorry for me. She bought it and took off down the hallway to hide in her bedroom.  I was still standing there staring at nothing when Deuce walked back in.

“ATF’s outside, we got ‘bout
two minutes before they blow the gate,” He said.  "Figured Preacher might have used you before, yeah?

"Yes," I said.

He handed me a ring full of keys.  "Those are for the doors.  Code to the gate is 009673.” 

I nodded.  “009673,” I repeated.

He stared at me.

“Go,” I said.  “Do what you need to do, I'll stall them.”

☼☼☼

Outside the gate stood white-collar special agents wearing bulletproof vests over their button downs.  Behind them SWAT was pouring out of several large paddy wagons dressed in military issued boots and BDU's.  They too wore bulletproof vests but unlik
e the agents, they had glocks strapped to their thighs and assault rifles slung over their shoulders.

“ATF,” An older, seasoned agent greeted me. “You mind opening the gate.”

I smiled.  “What’s this about?”

Another agent, young, clean cut and good looking, waved a piece of paper around angrily.  “Warrant,” He barked.  "Open the fucking gate!"

“Can I see that?”  I asked sweetly.

He shoved the piece of paper through the gate and I scanned it quickly. It was a search and seizure, dated correctly and signed by a judge.  In order and legit.

I handed it back but took my time punching in wrong code after wrong code after wrong code until a good fifteen minutes had passed by and the agents were getting angry with me. 

As soon as the electricity running through the gates was disarmed they clicked open and the tarmac flooded with SWAT headed straight for the club. 

“Front doors locked!”

"Side doors locked!"

I rolled my eyes.  Of course they were locked.  I wasn’t stupid. 

"Get the ram!"

“Wait!” I yelled.  “Don’t break it down!  I have the keys!”

The younger, good-looking agent turned to glare at me.  “Get over here!” He barked.

I hurried to the door and the good-looking agent leaned down over me.  “Open it,” He hissed.

I tried the first key and it didn’t work and truth be told I didn’t know which one would.  Deuce hadn’t told me.

By the third key, I had two agents screaming at me. By the sixth key, the good looking agent grabbed a fistful of my hair
and yanked me roughly aside.

“Give me the keys,” He growled and snatched them from my shaking hands. 

When the doors were open, I was shoved aside as the crowd poured in.  Aside from ATF no one else was in the front of the warehouse.   I took shelter in a corner near the bar and watched the room being torn apart.  Leather couches were sliced open, televisions were smashed, cupboard doors were ripped off their hinges.   Crashes and the sounds of wood splintering and plastic cracking came from inside Deuce's office and the kitchen.

There was so much activity going on around me that I didn't see the good looking agent until he was standing right in front of me, breathing hard, his face red with rage. “Where are they?” He bellowed, sending spittle flying in my face.

Wiping off my cheek, I shook my head.  “I don’t know,” I whispered,
because really, I didn’t know.

He grabbed my arm and shook me hard.  “Where. Are. They.”

Tears burned in my eyes.  The Horsemen must not have any feds on their payroll or this wouldn't be happening.

"Please," I begged.  "I really don't know."

Pain exploded throughout my face.  My mouth flooded with blood.  His punch had landed on the left side of my jaw the force of which had me stumbling backwards into the wall.    He closed the distance between us and I turned my head into the wall, bracing myself for another punch.  His fist barreled into my stomach and my lungs exploded.  I doubled over clutching my mid section, gagging and gasping for air.

“GOT EM!” A voice boomed.  "Trap door!  Basement!"

The brothers were led single file into the room, their hands zip tied behind their backs. Individually they were shoved up against the far wall.

Deuce was directly in the middle of the lineup nonchalantly scanning the room full of people.  He came to me, lying on my side, holding my stomach, trying to breathe and he went ramrod straight, his eyes blazing with fury.  More tears flooded my eyes and the room went blurry.

I recognized the good looking agent's voice. 

“I have witnesses placing your L.A. boys meeting with Curtis’s boys in Vegas.  I know for a fact you’re distributing for them, I also know you haven’t moved it yet.  So let’s make this easy.  Yo
u tell me where the fuck you
stashed
the
weapons and you blow in Curtis and I'll go easy on you.”

"N
o fuckin’ clue whatcha talkin’ ‘bout."

I thought that sounded like Cox but I couldn't be sure.

"Really?"  The agent sneered.  "AK-forty seven rifles, AK-forty seven pistols, FN five point seven millimeter pistols and point fifty caliber rifles, twenty five hundred in all, all from fucking Curtis, isn't ringing any fucking bells?"

"Nope."  That was Deuce.

"How about the twenty thousand grams of cocaine, a thousand grams of crack and a pound of methamphetamine?  All intercepted yesterday.  Got your handiwork written all over it, West."

Holy crap.  That was going to come straight out of Deuce's pocket.  I didn't know the Horsemen's finances but that would hurt anyone.

"You got any proof of that?"

Several heartbeats passed.  "We will," Came the biting reply.

"Good fuckin' luck with that asshole."  Definitely ZZ.  This was followed by a large whoosh of air and familiar gagging and coughing.  ZZ had just gotten slammed in the gut.

“Where's Davis's team?"  An unknown voice bellowed.

"Still searching," Was the answer.

"Tell me someone found something!”

“Aside from a few females hiding in bedrooms, the place is clean.  The assholes have permits for all the weapons found.  There’s nothing here.  Not a god damn thing.  Not even a dime bag of weed.” 

If I wasn't in so much pain I would have laughed.  Who called weed, weed?  Too funny.

"You run I.D.'s on the girls?"

"All of
‘em
except the one on the floor over there.  But check this shit, one of them is the daughter of a Senator and the heir to the Carlson Food fortune."

I swallowed.  They were talking about Kami.  If her parents found out about this…  Things would not be good for her.

A pair of dress shoes stopped in front of my face and the toe of one poked me in the leg.  "Name?"  A man's voice demanded.

"Eva…Fox," I croaked.

The man's legs bent.  His pudgy, blotchy red face came into my field of vision.  "Eva Fox?"  He repeated slowly.  "Who's your father?"

This was either going to go very bad for me or very good.  I didn't know which so I when I answered it was a very timid and terrified sounding, "Damon Fox."

"Shit," He muttered.  His arm slipped around my back and under my armpit and then I was being lifted and settled onto a barstool.  Still clutching my stomach, feeling like at any moment I was going puke, I slumped forward and put my forehead on the counter.

"Who the fuck beat the shit out of Damon Fox's kid?"  Pudgy faced demanded.

The entire place had gone silent.

"I did."  I recognized the good-looking agent's voice.  "She was playing us, stalling."

"You fucking moron!" Someone else yelled. 

Okay, so it was going good.    Either they were on my father's payroll or they were scared shitless of him.

A gentle hand came down on my shoulder. "Ms. Fox?"

I turned my head slightly.  Pudgy face bent his head to mine.

"I've written down the
name of the asshole who hit you
on the back of my card.  You give it to Preacher, you tell him what he did.  And I'd appreciate it if you'd tell him that no one else touched you."

Definitely on his payroll.   Probably getting a hefty percentage of the sales from the weapons they were supposed to be confiscating.  Probably sending half the weapons they did confiscate straight to my father for redistribution. 

"Okay," I whispered, knowing I wasn't going to tell my father anything.  Me disappearing only to show back up beaten by the ATF… 

That would
not go over well.  For me or the ATF.

The hand patted my back.  "Okay," he whispered.  He slid his card across the bar and walked away.

☼☼☼

Deuce carried Eva down the hall to his bedroom.  Kicking the door shut behind them he laid her out on his bed and s
tared at the growing bruise on the side of her face.   Since she'd told him her old man didn't have clue where she was, he knew she wasn't going to tell him what happened.  That meant it was up to him to take out the agent.  Which was fine with him.  This fucking girl had just taken a beating for him and his club.

“I'm okay,” She whispered.  “He punched like a girl.”

Fuck him. She was perfect. Perfect old lady material. Perfect heart shaped face, big gray eyes, smooth skin and fuck me lips. Perfect tits, long legs, and a flat stomach.  Perfect curves to run his hands over, long hair to grab hold of.   

And he'd gotten angry, let his temper get the better of him and co
mpletely fucked everything up.

Sighing, he sat down on the bed beside her.  "B
out
earlier," He started. "I-

"Don't," She whispered.  "I get it.  I was stupid for expecting anything from you.  I'm leaving tomorrow anyway."

His chest went tight.  He’d been too hard on her.  He had a horrible temper, couldn't think straight when he was angry.  Add Eva Fox to the mix and his brain was just a big lump of idiot.

"No babe.  You're not leavin."

There.  Now she wasn't leaving.

Fire flashed in her eyes.  "Yeah, Deuce, I am.  You made it clear that I couldn't hang at the club, that you didn't want me around your boys and I refuse to be locked in some cabin for an entire summer.  Besides, Kami and I had planned on going to Hawaii after this."

She was lying.  He could see it in her eyes.

"Babe, calm down.  You can come to the club with me when I don't have to work."

She snorted then winced in pain.  "Sorry,
babe
.
I've already made up my mind.  You pretty much sealed the deal when you decided I had to share you.  My daddy's going to be angry enough when I return; I'm pretty sure bringing back an STD as a souvenir would result in me being locked up in a nunnery."

Fucking shit.  She was running her mouth again and he was getting pissed.

"Woman, if you think I’m gonna let you walk outta here, you’re fuckin’ crazy.  You showed up outta nowhere cuz you fuckin' wanted me, so you fuckin' got me, and I'm gonna tell you straight up that a few fuckin' days of you hasn't been enough.  So you reel that fuckin' attitude in cuz you're fuckin' stayin'!"

Her face wiped clean, no expression whatsoever.  "Get the fuck away from me," She said evenly. “Now.”

He curled his hands into fists.  “Eva,” He growled.  “Stop it.”

She rolled to her side, facing away from him.

Stiffly, he got off the bed and stalked to the door.  He shot one last look at her.  She was staring off to the sid
e at nothing.

☼☼☼

I woke up in darkness as the bed dipped and Deuce slid in beside me.  Instead of curling up next to me he stayed on the opposite side of the bed.  I couldn't let it end like this.  Not with him.  My stomach was sore but nothing like my fa
ce and nothing I couldn't handle so I rolled over and crawled on top of him.

"Hey," I whispered. 

His arms wrapped around me.  “You still mad, darlin’?”

Instead of answering, I kissed him.  When I pulled away, we were both breathing heavy.

I rubbed my lips across his and whispered, "You want it hard or you want it slow?"

"Babe," He said thickly.  "I want it fuckin' slow."

So I gave it to him slow.

☼☼☼

He woke up alone.

Deuce rolled over and hit air.  He patted around for a moment looking for Eva and came up empty.  He clicked on his bedside lamp.  No Eva.  No IPod on his nightstand.  No chucks by the door.  No backpack on the floor. His stomach clen
ched.

Pulling on a pair of
jeans he headed straight for Cox's room and kicked open the door.  Ripper was snoring loudly, his long body draped over an armchair.  Cox, lying belly down in bed, jerked his head up. 

“Prez?”

He scanned the room.  No Kami.

The vice around his chest went painfully tight.