Jett looks at me incredulously, then at Blade and Axel. “Glad I’m amusing you guys. But let me tell you the facts. I was assured I would not have to deal with an eyewitness who says they can ID you for triple first-degree murders. I’m fucking flabbergasted that the only one who seems to have their shit together is Rhys Granger. He fucking saved your asses.” He says all this while remaining calm and cool, but his eyes flash with anger.
Axel sighs and leans over in his chair. “Don’t mention my brother-in-law’s name again.” He glares at Powers who looks like he’s ready to throw us all out. Instead, he stands and pours himself a whiskey, not bothering to share. He downs it and looks out his large windows, then pours another as he turns to face me.
“We go to trial in two weeks.” He sets his drink down, letting his words swirl around his extravagant office that screams I’m better than you.
But he’s not; he’s just as dirty, though he hides behind the law. He’s right, though. I did assure him the witness would not be an issue.
I clear my voice and reach into my pocket for my cigarettes “Have some faith, man.” I light up. Blade has stayed quiet. He’s allowing me to run this shit show, and all I had to do was take the rat out.
No women, no kids rings in my head. I guess that might bite me in the ass, but the club will be fine now that we got rid of fucking Misha and all his thugs. The raids on our businesses have stopped.
According to Frosty and Lodestar, the only thing the prosecution has now is Daniella.
Why hasn’t she come forward?
Who’s gotten to her? She should have retracted her statement and removed herself as a witness as soon as her mother and sister were all over the news, free.
“Faith?” Powers spits out, looking at me. “That’s not a word in my fucking vocabulary. I believe in facts. Facts that I can prove beyond a reasonable doubt. You said you’d get the job done.” He looks at my lit cigarette as if it disgusts him.
“Someone has gotten to her,” I state.
“Or, she fucking played you.” He says the one thing Blade and Axel haven’t voiced yet, but I know they believe it.
I got played.
I shouldn’t have gone, and they knew it. Because they’re my brothers.
Because they know me.
Had I put that bullet in her mouth, this would be over, but I’d be dead inside. Daniella’s ghost would haunt me, destroy me.
My code.
I live by it. It’s how I get up in the morning. But I fucked up. I should have let someone else do the job. Yet it was my mistake to fix.
Faith. Christ, if I were Jett Powers, I’d be looking at me the same way. But maybe this is my fate. This is how it’s supposed to be. It’s why I protect Julianna from knowing the true extent of my feelings for her.
She is my obsession, my life.
She’s also my downfall. As long as my family can go on and thrive… I can live with spending the rest of my days behind bars.
“I’ve had the press talking nonstop about the rescue of Olga and Svetlana,” Jett breaks into my thoughts.
He brings the glass to his lips and shoots it in one swallow.
“I mean, I guess they’ve made my job easier. They were so graphic in the interviews. The FBI is taking credit for taking out the Volkov mafia, because you sure as shit can’t.” He leans his elbows on the table.
“See, you guys are never gonna be the good guys. And now they’ve made it impossible for me to prove that woman is being manipulated, because that evidence is sealed.”
Inhaling, I stand. This is going nowhere. “Powers, spin it any way you want. It’s what we’re paying you to do,” I growl, picking up my phone and keys.
“I don’t lose,” he says.
“Good, I’m banking on it. I guess you’re gonna have to have some faith after all.” I look at him, then nod at Axel and Blade who remain seated.
“Call me if you need me.” Not waiting for any of them to respond, I walk out of his office and check my messages. Most of them are Rip letting me know that Julianna went drinking with Gia.
Julianna.
I start up my bike, toss my cigarette to the pavement, and decide to take Benedict Canyon instead of fighting the idiots on the freeway at this hour. As I maneuver my way in and out of traffic and climb the canyon, the sun starts her descent. My mind replays that night. Daniella was broken, not malicious. She wasn’t playing me—she wanted to die.
The FBI must be holding something over her still, or maybe it has nothing to do with the Feds, and it’s someone we’re overlooking.