Outlaw (Evil Dead MC 1)

“No. He wasn’t a cop,” she whispered, shaking her head. “He was talking about how if he gets this done, gives them this, would they drop the charges of what they had on him. He was—”

“A rat?” he coached.

“I guess that’s what you’d call him.”

“Give them what? Did he say?”

She nodded. “Something about blowing up some guy’s car. And how once you patch them over, they can get all of you.”

“Shit,” he whispered. “This guy, you saw him?”

She nodded.

“Well enough to ID him?”

“If you take me with you.”

He cocked his head, and his eyes narrowed as if he wondered what her game was. “You’re not making this bullshit up just to get me to take you up there, are you? Because I’m tellin’ you, babe. I know I promised you I’d get you your retribution. But I never promised you’d get to witness it.”

“No. I swear. I’m not making it up, Cole.”

He studied her face, wondering how much he should trust her. Wondering at her motivation for this. “Why are you telling me this? Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because…because I don’t want to see you go to prison. I owe you that much. For what you did for me. For what you’re going to do for me.”

Cole sat down in the chair. He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor, taking in all that she had told him. Finally, he looked over at her, shaking his head, a pissed off expression on his face. “Christ. This changes everything.”

Angel sat up, still clutching the sheet and scooted back against the headboard. “What…what do you mean?”

He stood and walked out, slamming the door behind him, the frosted glass rattling in the silent room.

Angel stared at the closed door and wondered if their deal had just gone out the window.

***

Cole walked downstairs and straight over to the bar. “Mack, we need to talk,” he said to an older man sitting at the bar sipping on a drink.

“What about?”

“In private.”

Mack looked up from his drink and watched over his shoulder as Cole turned and headed to the chapel. He set his glass down slowly, stood, and followed him. Closing the door, he walked around the table.

Mack, being president, sat at the head of the table. Cole sat next to him.

“How’s that fine piece of ass you brought back with you?” Mack rocked back in the leather executive chair.

Cole looked at him. “This involves her.”

“I’m all ears, Brother.”

“I told you what happened up there, how I ended up with her.” Cole had told him the story, leaving out only the part about her father being a cop.

Mack nodded, lighting a cigar.

“She just told me something. Something she saw and heard when she was up there.”

That got his attention. “What? She overhear some club business?”

“No.” Cole shook his head. “Nothin’ like that. She heard something that can help us.”

“Help us? What are you getting at?”

“We’ve got us a rat up there. Gonna set us all up.”

The leather chair creaked as Mack leaned forward. “Fuck! Are you sure?”

Cole nodded. “Pretty damn sure.” He explained to Mack what Angel had seen and heard. “Gotta be the Fat Tony hit that this guy was talking about. I’m gonna need to bring her back up there to ID the guy. Find out everything he’s given up. Before we kill him.”

Mack nodded and jabbed the table with his finger. “This needs to be quick. We don’t know what else the feds have or when they’re going to hit us with it.”

“I know. We need to move now. And the patch over?”

“No way. Not if this is true. That ain’t gonna happen.”

Cole nodded his agreement.

“Call a meeting. Get everyone in here. Goddamn it!”

Cole nodded, got up and headed toward the door.

“Cole!” Mack stopped him.

He paused and looked back. “Yeah?”

“This girl. Where you goin’ with that?”

Cole shook his head. “I don’t know.”

He walked out.

***

Angel heard a tap on the door and stopped her pacing. She’d been in this room for hours waiting for Cole to return. She stared at the door. Cole wouldn’t knock. She walked over and timidly cracked it open. A pretty girl with long dark hair was standing there with a tray in her hands.

“Cole asked me to bring you something to eat,” she said.

Angel stepped back and allowed her in. The girl set the tray down on the bedside table and turned, taking in Angel, her eyes skating over her. Then she smiled and introduced herself. “I’m Crystal.”

Angel nodded. “Hi, I’m Angel.”

“That’s a pretty name.” She looked at Angel’s face, noticing for the first time the bruising along her jaw and the cut on her lip. Her smile faded, and she asked softly, “What happened to you?”

Angel reached up to touch her face and looked away.

“My God. Your arms!” Crystal reached out and touched the bruising on Angel’s wrist.

“I’m okay,” Angel replied softly.