X Marks the Spot (Executioners MC Book 1) (6 page)

CHAPTER SIX

(Ronin)

A slight smirk crept in the corner of my mouth when I noticed the rip in the upholstery of the backseat. I had been in this same goddamn cage too many times to count, spanning all the way back to grade school. If I had paid any kind of taxes over the years, I might have been pissed to be hauled downtown in such a raggedy ass cop car.

“Hey boys, you interrupted family supper. How ‘bout we pick up some chicken or pizza. I’m buying.”

Officer Roberts snorted. “Family supper? What a joke. Bunch of gang thugs doing drugs and banging each other’s chicks. Not exactly what normal people refer to as family.”

“Shut it, Roberts.” Davis shutdown his partner before I had a chance. “That’s not a bear you wanna be poking.”

“Whatever.”

There’s always at least one hothead in the bunch. Asshole. It’s not as if I didn’t know this shit was coming. It would have looked better if I had surrendered as planned, but at least I wasn’t caught on the lamb. Shit could have gone down a lot different. I tried to string together what the fuck was happening. I needed to have my shit straight before Sanders showed up. This should be a piece of cake, even for that dumbass.

Davis handed me over for booking, which I could complete in my damn sleep. I noticed all of the gawking and stares from the crowded holding tank. It was a small police station, and bringing in an Executioner was a big ass deal. Besides, I would be lying if I denied that I didn’t get off, even a little, from all of the attention that came with the title. Girls, booze, drugs, money, and attention – good or bad.

“Alright, Steele. You know the drill.”

I stared down at the beady-eyed cop. The man performed an all too thorough strip search and tossed an orange jumpsuit in my direction.

“Get it on. Then grab a mattress and a roll of shit paper.”

I did as instructed and struggled to keep my mouth shut. My instincts ticked away at me, my pulse racing. I could get in that cop’s head so easy, but I managed to refrain. The cop escorted me down a long corridor, passing the entryway to the dorm style pod.

“Think you missed our stop,” I said. The officer turned and glowered at me, causing me to play nice. “Sir.”

“You’ll be staying in a single cell until you see the judge. Too much testosterone for one room.”

I knew exactly what the man was saying. There was bound to be a rival club member, or a whole fucking gang, on the inside.

The officer nudged me toward the wall. “Don’t go getting any wild ideas, got it?”

“Sir.”

The man planted my face against the smudged wall to remove the cuffs. My cell was surrounded by other one-man cells, typically used for sexual offenders and gang members who might be targeted on the inside. Odd noises seeped out from underneath the secure doors, making my already small, musty tank seem even smaller. I wasn’t good in tight spaces, never had been. Being locked in a closet as a kid had really fucked with my head. I would rather try my luck in the dorm.

This will all be over soon. Keep your mouth shut and your fucking head down
.

Jesse’s orders rang in my ears. My brothers were in the clear, so far. Jolene should be out of town by now. And the icing on the cake? That cocksucker, Numar, was dead. A small snicker escaped. I would throw a fucking party if I could. It was the only positive thing that I had going for me. The only way it could have been any better was if I had pulled the fucking trigger myself.

After what felt like hours of lying on the foam mattress staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out my next plan of action, I heard the key click in the lock.

“Steele, you got a visitor.”

I went through the routine of being cuffed, escorted back down the long hall, and lead to an interrogation room.

“You get twenty minutes with your attorney, not a second more.”

I was relieved to hear that Sanders was actually on the ball for a change. Maybe I had a shot of beating this bogus bullshit.

The officer opened the door and peered inside. “I’ll be by the window here. Just motion if you need me.” He then glanced back at me. “Cuffs stay on. No funny business.”

I waited as he pushed the door open wider. When I spotted Jolene leaning against the far wall, adrenaline pulsed through my veins, sucking the air out of the room. She was the last person that I expected to see. And as always, seeing her only fucked with my head, leaving me confused and off centered.

I waited for the door to close.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

She blinked and her large doe eyes were like a knife right to my chest. There was a time when I would have bet money that those same eyes would have been the death of me. They damn near were. Hell, they might still be and I would undoubtedly, love every second of it.

“I’m here as your counsel.”

I took a step forward until a loud rattle on the other side of the one way glass stopped me in my tracks. “My lawyer? You’ve got to be shitting me. Where the hell’s Sanders?”

Jolene scoffed. “Yeah, I checked into his record while I was waiting for you to finish up booking. That guy’s a joke. You do
not
want him representing you in a murder trial. He’s a walking white flag.”

“You don’t get to make that call.”

She crossed the room and sat down at the table. “Well, neither do you. I’ve already cleared it with your president.”

I huffed. The damn cuffs were pissing me off and my gut was screaming. There was no way Jesse would agree to this crazy ass plan. “I call bullshit.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” She waved her hands through the air as if she had just pulled off the world’s most secret magic trick.

“That doesn’t mean shit. You’ve always done the exact opposite of what you were ordered to do. Why should this be any different?”

“Not true. I left town when I was ordered to.” Her face fell and she retreated, lowering her gaze.

I was the one in the orange jumpsuit. The one on trial for murder. Yet, all I could think about was what it would be like to get the fucking cuffs off and hold her, to feel myself inside of her. It had been years and I could still remember the way my body reacted as the heat from her soft, delicate skin rolled off my flesh.

“Shit.” I plopped down into the chair opposite of her and rested both, restrained hands on the table.

“Jo, you can’t be the one to do this. I can’t worry about getting myself out of this mess while worrying about you. It doesn’t work that way. You know Numar has a past and it’s all going to come out. I wouldn’t forgive myself if you had to relive all that pain over again. Let Sanders handle this.”

I watched her swipe her pink lips with her tongue. She gazed at my hands before lifting her head to make eye contact.

“If that man is your counsel for this case, you will spend the rest of your life cuffed and behind bars. He’s an imbecile with a win rate that went right down the toilet when he started drinking. Yeah, I did my homework. Believe me when I tell you that man will rollover and let you rot. I could never forgive
myself
if I let that happen.”

The intense sincerity that was stirring deep in her blue eyes made my chest expand. “I guess I don’t really have a choice in the matter.”

An instant grin tugged at the corners of her full lips. “Good. We only have a few minutes tonight. Let’s jump right in. Did you kill Alex Numar?”

“No.”

“Why do you think you’re the one they fingered for his death?”

I didn’t like where this was headed. Nothing about it settled well with my core. Jolene was the last person I should be talking to about this. “You know why.”

“Do I?”

“Numar is the new VP for the Pistol Kings.” I searched her face as she pieced together the information. Her eyes darkened and her brow pinched at the bridge of her nose.

“The Pistol Kings? I thought the VP was Stefan. Numar? Wasn’t he just a grunt a while back?”

I nodded. “He handled a lot of the dirty work, which in turn, helped him move up the ranks.”

“Dirty work? He was the one who …?”

I dropped my head. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her.

With a quivering voice, she continued. “He set the house fire.”

“He killed our baby. Our son.” My shoulders sagged as I lifted my head. “But I didn’t kill him. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t planning on it when the time was right, but this messy amateur bullshit wasn’t me.”

“It may not have been you, but it was your gun.”

The muscles in my back snapped as I shot upright. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Your gun, the pistol Pop gave you when you patched in. It has your name engraved along the barrel.”

My insides twisted, leaving me swimmy as the blood drained from my face. My pulse raced as I erupted from the chair.

“I didn’t do it, Jo. You have to find out who’s behind this. It’s a set up.” I stalked the length of the room. My voice became louder with each declaration.

“Come on, you’ve got to calm down.” She tried to get me to sit, but the door flew open.

“On the wall, Steele.”

“We’re not done here, Officer.” Jolene put her hands up to protest.

“Ma’am, you’re going to have to step aside.” He never took his eyes off me. “Steele, on the wall.”

I ignored the command and bolted to Jolene’s side, gripping her face between my enormous, cuffed hands.

“Jo, you’ve got to believe me. I didn’t kill him.”

More officers stormed the room and detained me, slamming me into the wall.

“I’m not sorry that son of a bitch is dead, but it wasn’t me! Get me outta here, Jo!” I yelled as they dragged me out of the room. I rolled my neck and tried to put myself in check as the team of officers escorted me back to my tank.

“Lights out.”

I fell back on the thin, vinyl-covered foam mattress. Leaning my head against the cold concrete wall, I pictured Jolene’s distorted, scared face. For the first time, I allowed myself to examine the possibility that I might be going away for murder. I didn’t have a guess in hell who would be setting me up, but I sure as shit intended to find out. It wouldn’t be easy. Having been in the life for the last ten years left one hell of a list of enemies.

My gun. It didn’t make any fucking sense. Jesse had given me that Ruger SR9 the day I got my bottom rocker. He’d even had it engraved, ‘Ronin X’. I would never forget the way the old man’s hard eyes softened as he call me son, telling me how proud he was to officially be able to call me family, adding, the only family that matters.

That gun was my only prized possession. When I found out that Jolene was pregnant and I was going to be a dad, I put the gun away to give to my own son one day. After the fire and the miscarriage, I couldn’t bring myself to carry it, much less look at it, not after experiencing such a painful loss.

As far as I knew, it was still tucked away in a box in the back of my closet. Buried, deep with my memories. If it was used to murder Numar, it was an intentional frame job. Whoever the killer was must have had a way to get into my room.

Shit
.

I didn’t like where my thoughts were headed. Nothing made sense. Nothing would ever make sense again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

(Jolene)

The distinct stench of skunky weed wafted through the dingy motel room. I managed to get my hands on Ronin’s arrest warrant. Alex Numar had been shot six times at close range. The ballistics report showed the bullets belonged to the gun found at the scene. Ronin’s gun, and to make things easy for the prosecutor, the only fingerprints on the weapon were his.

According to the police report, Numar was on his knees. Shot, execution style. Execution style, as in the
Executioners
style.

It didn’t look good. Everything pointed to Ronin. He and Numar had one hell of a history. I couldn’t let myself get stuck in the past. Not now while Ronin’s life was at stake.

I suddenly wished I’d had more experience under my belt. This would be my first murder trial. I had sat in on a few, but never as lead counsel. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I dropped the ball.

What the hell am I doing
?

Panic set in. Everything was moving too fast. Maybe I should try to find someone else, or at least a co-counsel with more experience. I hadn’t even contemplated the fact that I could, and probably would, lose my job. My gaze darted around the room. I would be living out of my suitcase, listening to drunk sex through the paper-thin walls, and getting a contact high from the cheap ditch weed for the next few months.

A light knock on the door caught me by surprise, sending me up and off the bed. I tiptoed across the room. My insides trembled as I got ready to look through the peephole. Another knock, followed by a familiar voice, sent relief through my tense, rigid body.

“Dammit, Jo. I know you’re in there. Your car’s in the parking lot.”

I quickly unbolted the locks and inched the door open. “Damn, Ruth! You scared the shit out of me.”

In true Ruth fashion, her arms were loaded down with bags and a twelve pack of Budweiser. The mother hen of Jericho.