Deadline to Damnation (Sons of Templar MC 7)

“You have been fraternizing with a known criminal organization, that gives me the right to hold you for questioning for up to twenty-four hours,” he said, sitting across from me.

“No, you do not have that right when you are being paid by a criminal to harass people instead of doing your job,” I told him flatly. “The second you do that, you lose all of your rights in my eyes, and hopefully soon, the US government’s eyes.”

His eyes flared at the threat in my tone.

“You didn’t think we wouldn’t do some investigating of our own, Detective Rickens?” I asked him. “Taking bribes from a man who is responsible for the majority of human trafficking in this world is a lot worse than hanging out with a few bikers.”

He had paled, but he seemed to recover quickly, tapping on the iPad he was carrying. He set it down in front of me.

It was a dead body. Full of multiple gunshot wounds. It was unrecognizable. He swiped again. More of the same.

“A few bikers who a responsible for this,” he hissed. “These people were killed with AK-47s, guns bought illegally from a criminal enterprise who calls themselves the Sons of Templar. These people were not criminals. These people were gunned down because of money, because of being at the wrong place in the right time.”

I leaned back. “Plenty more people are killed daily with guns obtained legally,” I replied. “You’re not going to get me by appealing to my morals or heartstrings. I know enough about death and suffering to know where the blame and the blood lands.”

He leaned forward. “Well, the blood is going to land everywhere. That’s a promise you keep fraternizing with these men.” He stood. “I’ll leave you to think about that.”

“I’m entitled to a phone call,” I told him. Despite the fact I was furious at Liam for what he’d said, I knew the fact we’d been gone for hours with no contact would be playing havoc on those volatile emotions of his. It would be playing havoc with the club. I guessed that was the point.

Detective Rickens smiled. “I’ll get right on that.”

Then he walked out.

Jagger

He did not know what to expect when he made the hour drive to the police station in thirty minutes.

He definitely did not expect to see Rosie leaning against a black SUV illegally parked outside, grinning and waving at him as he pulled up.

Hansen and the rest of club—save who were back at the clubhouse with Macy, the kids, Linda and all other people at risk—pulled in behind him.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

She pushed up her aviators. “Hello to you too. I’m here because I’m awesome, and you’ll agree in three, two,” she trailed off and glanced at the double doors leading into the police station.

On cue, the door opened and Jagger lost his breath as both Caroline and Swiss walked out, flanked by an asshole in a cheap suit.

Rosie quirked her brow at him. “Ready to announce my awesomeness?” she asked.

He didn’t answer because he was taking the stairs two at a time to reach Caroline. He expected her to flinch away from him, he deserved that, but instead she all but jumped into his arms. He exhaled for the first time in four hours. Then he inhaled Caroline.

He wanted to hold her for much longer than the handful of seconds that he did, but he had to do something else.

“You good?” he asked softly, holding her neck and inspecting her face for any signs of distress.

Nothing. Of course. As he was coming to learn, apart from when yelling at her friend for getting on a plane after getting shot, she was calm and collected in most situations. It made him proud. It also hit him deep. Because to remain calm in these kinds of situations, you have had to not only have experience in chaos but in things much worse.

She nodded. “Oh, I’m fine. I have a lot of new material for the way the DEA laughs in the face of US citizens constitutional rights,” she said, glancing to the man in the shitty suit.

Fuck, he loved her.

He faced the man, who was sizing him up, then the entire club staring him down.

He had to hand it to the fucker, he didn’t even look worried. Though he should be. He should be very fucking worried.

“You take my woman again without cause, you’re answering to me,” he informed him calmly.

“You threatening a federal officer?” the man asked with too much smugness.

“You bet your ass I am,” Jagger replied, grinning at him, slinging his arm around Caroline’s shoulder and walking them away.

Rosie was chatting with Hansen when they approached.

“Ah! The jailbirds!” she greeted Swiss and Caroline. She grinned at Caroline. “I’m Rosie, you haven’t had the pleasure. But let me tell you, I’m a big fucking fan. I think you’re awesome and my best friend is going to fucking lose it when I tell her that I met Caroline Hargrave. She’s a journalist too. Lucy Brooke.”