“Don’t be sorry, it’s a fair question. I’m glad you called.” His voice softened and was almost apologetic. “The Ashby’s aren’t boy scouts by any means, but they are good people who take care of their own.”
“Including me,” I added, feeling like a traitor for even thinking they were bad people. “Thank you for setting me straight. Are we still on for tonight?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said, his voice deep and rumbly before he ended the call.
I sat in my car for a minute and thought about what I knew of the Ashby family and compared it to what the agent had said. Emmett made a good point. I’d watched enough crime shows to know Agent Beck had used scare tactics on me.
But I couldn’t ignore the men who’d attacked me in the parking lot. And now that I thought about it, all the silence surrounding Fiona’s departure, either. I believed in the Ashby’s, more than the suspicious Agent Beck anyway, for now.
But I had to be smart and keep my guard up or I might get to see Lance a lot sooner than I planned.
Chapter Twenty-One
Emmett
“So, you’re telling us that you work for Sadie Ashby but you’ve never heard of the Black Jacks?”
The detective scoffed and leaned back in his seat, the plain concrete walls of the interrogation room of the local police headquarters were more intimidating than his weak-ass glare. He was trying hard to make me feel stupid or out of the loop so I’d tell him something that could help his investigation.
“I’m telling you that I’m a trainer at House of Ashby and I’ve never heard of this gang.”
“Not a gang,” he clarified, “A motorcycle club,” the young detective sneered in my direction. He looked down at his Sam’s Club tie and straightened it over his polyester shirt, as if his grooming was supposed to impress me.
“Okay, fine, I’ve never heard of that motorcycle gang. Happy?”
He wasn’t happy, not at all. He leaned forward on his elbows, working hard to appear badass. “You know what would make me happy?”
I chuckled. “I could guess but that might just piss you off further.” This guy was nothing compared to the men who’d trained me and turned me into a solider. He might not realize it, but I could do this all day.
His partner was slightly older and not nearly as fired up. “So what were you doing there at that exact moment?”
“I’ve been seeing Vanessa, the woman who was attacked. She’s been having some car trouble. I tried to call her and she didn’t answer, so I figured I’d stop by her work and play knight in shining armor, offer her a ride when her shift was over.”
That was the absolute truth, minus the part where I’d been worried sick when she hadn’t picked up her phone.
It was easy enough to believe, and the older detective nodded while he scribbled in his notepad. The younger asshole wasn’t impressed though.
“And your relationship with Ms. Ashby and the rest of the Ashby family?”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “My personal life is relevant to your investigation how exactly?”
They were asking routine questions about the dead asshole who’d punched Vanessa, but after her run-in with the FBI agent, I knew they were fishing.
“Humor us. Please,” the older one asked.
“Sadie took me and my brother in when we were younger. I went to school with them. Our folks were too doped up to take care of us. She encouraged me to join the military, and when I got out, let me fight for House of Ashby. She’s family.”
“But not, right?”
I shrugged. “You define family how you want, detective, and I’ll do the same. We done here?”
The older detective nodded while his partner shook his head. “We’re done when I say we’re done,” he growled.
“Funny, my lawyer said this was just a courtesy. Am I being detained?” The question dreaded by all law enforcement.
“No,” the older detective sigh. “You’re free to go. Thanks for answering our questions.”
“No problem.” I stood and walked out, making my way through the cop shop and out into the warm Nevada sunshine. I stopped in my tracks when the most beautiful sight greeted me. Vanessa with a swollen black eye and a huge smile on her face.
“You following me?”
She shrugged. “Maybe I am. You have a problem with that?”
“Not one damn bit,” I told her as I jogged down the short set of concrete steps. “But I’m driving.”
She put on a fake pout. “I drove all the way here, didn’t I?”
“You did, but how many people and fire hydrants did you take out on your way over?”
“Not relevant,” she said in an uppity voice and slid into the passenger seat.
“Hey Emmett,” she said when I got in behind the steering wheel. I turned to answer her, and Vanessa’s lips met mine in a slow sweet kiss.