He didn’t deny it but his silence was answer enough.
“Why?”
His lips pressed together.
Goddamn sonofabitch.
Shifting the gun, I fired a single shot at the fence post behind Graham. He jumped at the loud crack before I rammed the gun back in his face.
“Answer me or I’ll put a bullet in your fucking head!” I roared.
“I don’t know shit!” he yelled, the lie so obvious I wanted to throw him against the fence until he gave it up.
“Casey!” Grace cried out again.
“Quiet, Grace,” Travis ordered. “Let him do this.”
“He’s going to shoot him!” she replied, horror edging her voice.
“And if he doesn’t, I will.”
Graham’s panicked gaze shifted from Travis and Grace back to me. “I don’t! I do what I’m told and don’t ask questions.”
My eyes bore into him, hard and unyielding. “Who told you to cover it up?”
Graham swallowed. Not wanting to give him time to think on his answer, I cracked the butt of the gun in his face, splitting his lip. He cried out. His mouth filled with blood as I pressed the weapon back to his forehead.
He spat a mouthful of it out, refusing to answer. I tried another tactic. “Do you know a detective on the force by the name of Morgan Rhodes?”
His eyes shifted to the left and down. “No.”
My lips peeled back in a sneer. Graham just made her as a member of the Sentinels without even realising. It made sense for the MC to have members on the inside with the law. She was someone they would never suspect. The biker tattoo would have to be on her somewhere. Hell, I fucked the woman. I should’ve seen it. I know there was something on her left ass cheek but no matter how hard I strained my memory, I couldn’t see it because I never really looked at it. I was drunk, and the next day I was busy getting rid of her.
I pulled the gun off him. Putting the safety on, I tucked it back in my jeans and pushed up off the ground.
“You fuckin’ done now?” Graham growled, suddenly finding his balls now my gun was tucked away.
I got to my feet and shrugged, my eyes full of contempt. “Don’t leave town, asshole.”
Turning, I headed towards Grace and Travis. My eyes hit Travis first. “You know Morgan’s address?”
He gave me a nod.
“Good. Let’s go.”
I grabbed Grace’s hand as we headed back to the Subaru. It was cold and clammy. Now wasn’t the time to wrap her in my arms so I settled for squeezing her hand and opened the car door for her. “You okay?”
She went to slide in the car without answering. I slid my hand around the nape of her neck before she could get in. I pulled her close, pressing my forehead to hers. “Grace. You with me? I need you to be okay. You said you wanted to help me find my brother. If you can’t do this—”
“I’m with you,” she said quickly.
Not wanting to linger, I helped her in the car. Before I shut the door, I leaned down, meeting her eyes. “Good.”
After arriving at Morgan’s house, she opened the door and my reaction was immediate.
I bristled.
I could see why Casey had been with her. She was really quite beautiful, but that was on the surface. Underneath it all she was like a snake in the grass, and also a member of the Sentinels, an outlaw biker gang that fought on the side of evil. The biker name actually rang a bell. Casey didn’t look pleased when I mentioned that particular fact, but they were apparently notorious. Maybe I’d seen them on the news or something. Either way, I put it out of my head because Sentinel¸ detective, or trash collector, whoever the hell Morgan was, someone needed to take her down. Considering God was not currently available for a good smiting, I was happy to nominate myself in his stead.
Leaning casually against the doorframe, she gave Casey a deliberate once over and turned, doing the same to Travis. “So nice to see you both again.” Then her eyes hit mine, flashing a smile that wasn’t the least bit genuine. Maybe Casey’s earlier violence was rubbing off on me because I wanted to tackle her to the ground. I knew I could do it. I had an older brother. I knew how to initiate an effective smackdown. “And what a pleasure to see you brought Grace with you.”
I smiled in return, but it was more like a baring of teeth because anger was burning the lining of my stomach clean away. “The pleasure’s all mine, Morgan.”
Casey must have heard the threat in my tone because he shifted right, blocking me from launching myself at her.
“Can we come in?” he asked with what I knew was forced politeness. I took satisfaction in knowing he’d never spoken to me with that chilliness. Even when he’d found out about the destruction of Marjorie’s backseat, his tone had still been all spark and fire.
Her eyebrows rose but she widened the door in invitation. “By all means.”
Morgan stepped back as we filed inside the house. I gave her my own once over as I walked through a tiled entryway that led towards the living area. She wore jeans like me, but hers were dark wash and bootleg and somehow, somewhere, the nineteen-eighties screamed for them back. Wasn’t she a detective? Didn’t that mean the woman should be able to detect what decade they belonged to?
I arched a brow her way as I followed Casey and Travis into the living area. “Nice jeans,” I murmured, my smile genuine when I saw her tug at the waistband.
“Thanks,” she replied. She cocked her head at me in mock sympathy. “Though they’re probably a little dark for your colouring, sweetie. You’re so … pale.”
Bitch, I growled internally.
What she did by withholding those reports was not cool. I bet she had no intention of Casey ever seeing them either. She just used them to string him along. My eyes narrowed on her face and I could literally feel my claws extending.
So not cool.
I pasted a smile on my face as she shut the door behind us. “Well. I guess it’s lucky that dark jeans like yours aren’t the height of fashion right now then, isn’t it?”
Her eyes narrowed and I wanted to laugh.
“Morgan,” Casey barked, interrupting our verbal sparring right when I was getting warmed up for round two.
Her gaze shifted his way. “I’m not sure why you’re all here, but make it quick.” She made a point of looking at her watch. “I have somewhere to be.”
“Works for me.” Widening his stance, Casey folded his arms, his expression intimidating. “Let’s cut the bullshit, then. I know you were there. I know you were the first cop on scene at my parents’ murder. We’re here so you can tell us what happened. That’s all we want, okay? Then we’ll leave you alone.”
I watched her reaction closely. Her brows rose, her expression cold and derisive, but I still caught the flicker of surprise before she banked it. That screamed guilt in my eyes. Yeah, she was there. “What led you to that far-fetched conclusion?”
Damn. She wasn’t stupid. That didn’t bode well for us. She was waiting for Casey to incriminate himself by acknowledging he had the stolen reports from her house. Even if she was in this up to her eyeballs, admitting to breaking and entering a detective’s house—a detective with an unblemished record—would not work in his favour.
“Well, Casey?” She arched a brow. “Aren’t you going to explain why you think I’m somehow caught up in this when all I did was bust my ass to find those reports for you? The ones that seem to have suddenly vanished into thin air?”
Yeah, she was good, but Casey? He was better.
I waited for him to take her down, but he was quiet—Travis was too—and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe this was why men resorted to violence so quickly. Verbal sparring with women took a certain skill. Men weren’t masters of using catty comments to throw off their opponent.
When he didn’t respond, Morgan took his silence as some kind of admittance of guilt because her face flushed with triumph.
“What reports?” I quickly threw out there. I wanted to fold my arms, mimicking Casey’s in
timidating stance, but it was too difficult with the damn cast on my arm. I settled for a sneer instead.
Casey frowned across at me, his expression silently telling me to shut the hell up. I shrugged. Someone had to say something. Where was the badass Casey of earlier? Pulling a gun seemed like a language she might better understand.
“What reports?” Morgan pressed her lips together like she was fighting a smile. “Really, Grace?”
She walked casually to the coffee table where a laptop sat, the screen closed. Leaning over, she flipped the lid, typed in the password when prompted, and the screen flickered to life.
After sliding a small USB into the side of the laptop and a few taps on the keyboard, a black and white video began to play. With our eyes glued to the screen, she took a step back. “You might want to be careful about what you come around here accusing me of. I don’t take kindly to being backed into a corner.”
When I realised I was looking at Mac on the computer, rage made my fingers curl into fists. She was dressed all in black, hands gloved up as she systematically searched a bedroom—opening drawers, rifling through books and papers on a small corner desk, and peering under the bed. Eventually she lifted the mattress and came out holding an A4 sized envelope. Lifting the flap, she took a quick peek and with what looked like a grin of satisfaction, disappeared from the room, envelope in hand.
With a quick tap, Morgan shut the video down. “Your parents died in a murder-suicide, Casey. Stop trying to make into something it’s not and let it go.”
There was no time to think through my actions. Casey and Travis had remained impressively impassive throughout the clip, but I wasn’t some kind of trained badass like they were. I simply reacted. Shoving Casey to the side, I yanked the USB from the laptop. With the evidence now safely in my possession, I spun around and slapped Morgan. Despite having to use my left hand, the fury behind it made the impact brutal.
Unfortunately, my smiting didn’t come complete with Morgan exploding into the ether, but I did experience some satisfaction in seeing her head snap back. It far outweighed the sting it caused my palm.
“You bitch,” I hissed for good measure.
She came back at me, her cheek red from my imprint and her hand raised and ready.
I lifted my chin and braced for impact, silently telling her to bring it, but Travis intervened. Coming from behind, he locked his arms around her, leaving her completely immobile in a matter of moments.
“I’ll have you arrested along with Mac,” she spat at me, struggling in Travis’s tight hold as she lost her cool. “Assault on a police officer. Cops don’t take kindly to that.”
Shit.
I’d made it worse, hadn’t I?
No wonder Casey and Travis had stood there with their mouths shut. They knew how to speak badass. My language was more territorial kitten. I should’ve stayed in the car with Travis like Casey ordered me to, but leaving him alone to deal with Morgan? Yeah, no. The itch to scratch her eyes out had been strong. I’d jumped from the car and was halfway to the door before he could even catch me.
Casey shoved me behind him before I could do any more damage. I glared at her from over his shoulder.
“Assault?” he said, his tone calm and almost amused. Yep. Definite badass. “I didn’t see any assault here.” His gaze turned to Travis, his brows raised coolly. “What about you, Travis? Did you see anything?”
Letting go of Morgan, he stepped back and she huffed, yanking herself from his presence. “Nope.” He shrugged and it felt good having the both of them take my back. Despite the tense situation, my heart still managed to produce a warm fuzzy. “I didn’t see shit.”
That was when Casey made his move, and I had to link my hands together to restrain a juvenile fist pump in the air.
“Have you heard of Chief Inspector Valentine? Mac’s father?” he asked Morgan, referring to Steve. I’d met him several times when he visited the duplex with his wife, Jenna. I had no idea he’d been such a high-ranking member with the Sydney Police. He was a huge guy, handsome and fit, and fanatical about World News. He’d bailed me up in a conversation about the separatist rebels ambushing Ukrainian soldiers, throwing current peace talks into crisis. Rather than appear ignorant of the situation (which I was), I offered him a drink when he came up for air.
“He may be retired,” Casey continued, “but he’s a close personal friend of Deputy Commissioner Alan Rossiter. The same Deputy Commissioner that owes Chief Valentine for saving his life. You try to have either Mac or Grace arrested and not only will the charges get thrown out, I’ll inform Rossiter that you’re a member of the Sentinels.” Morgan flinched when Casey threw that out there. After a pause to allow that particular piece of information to sink in, he continued. “I’m giving you two days. If you don’t tell me by then what you know, you can kiss your career goodbye. The force won’t accept a member of the Sentinels within their ranks. Every single case you worked on during your entire career will come under investigation.” Casey jabbed a finger in her face, some of his fury leaking through. “I’ll fucking ruin you.”
Casey stood there with confidence as he spoke, his glare intense and unwavering. His demeanour wasn’t just inspiring, it was hot. He had her. We all knew it. Even Morgan, because underneath the eyes that flashed fire was a layer of panic she couldn’t hide.
“Prove it,” she hissed.
“I don’t need to.” He shrugged casually. “Maybe you thought I was too drunk to notice, or too stupid to eventually put two and two together, but the proof is right there in the ink on your skin. How long have you been covering up the Sentinels’ crimes for, Morgan? Your entire career? Come on,” he tutted with a chilly smile that gave me goose bumps. “We know Graham Bennett isn’t an old friend of your Uncle’s. He’s a member of the Sentinels, and somehow you—a twenty-three-year-old officer fresh out of the academy—managed to get him to falsify an autopsy report. You know what that tells me?” Morgan didn’t answer, her expression mutinous. “It tells me you’re in deep, Morgan. You know what else? I don’t care how deep you’re in it. If I don’t hear from you in two days, I’ll take apart every single Sentinel member one by one, including you, and damn the consequences. Someone murdered my family and for that, they’re going down.”
“Two days!” Travis exploded when we were back at the car. Casey opened the car door and I slid onto the backseat, knowing exactly how Travis felt. We were so close to getting answers I could taste it.
Checking my phone quickly after leaving it in the car, I saw two missed calls from John that set my stomach churning. I knew why he was ringing. It was time to go home to Melbourne and face the music.
I wasn’t ready.
God, just two more days, I pleaded silently. Let me be here for Casey just a little bit longer.
Unaware of my sudden, inner turmoil, Casey huffed with frustration as he slammed the car door behind me. Hopping into the front passenger seat of Travis’s car, he slammed his own door for good measure. “What did you want me to do, beat it out of her?”
“A valid option,” I pointed out as I buckled my seat belt, forcing the missed calls from my mind.
Casey turned in his seat as Travis pulled onto the street, accelerating quickly. He raised his brows at me. “Since when did you get so bloodthirsty?”
“Since I met you,” I retorted.
“Jesus,” he muttered, turning back around. To the both of us, he said, “We’ve backed Morgan into a corner. Let her cool off and we’ll get it out of her, okay? I’ve waited this long. Two more days is not going to hurt.”
Of course it would hurt. I was already hurting for him so I couldn’t even imagine how bad it was for him.
It was going on dusk when we hit traffic on the return trip to the loft. Travis must’ve had his phone hooked up by Bluetooth to his car because the sound of it ringing came blasting through the speakers.
“Yeah?” he answered as he pulled up at a set of red lights.
“Where are you, asshead?”
Mac barked and the sound was amplified by a thousand, her voice booming at us in surround sound.
“Fuck,” Casey muttered.
“Working,” Travis replied.
There was a pause where Mac appeared to be waiting for her brother to elaborate. He didn’t. The light turned green and he accelerated, his car growling powerfully as we shot off the line like it was a drag race. The car beside us rallied valiantly but faded fast and we left everyone behind. It was impressive and even though I was still shaky getting behind the wheel of a car, it didn’t lessen the urge to take this one for a test drive. Somehow I knew Travis wouldn’t be cool with that. Wreck one car, one, and it ruined you for life.
“Working where?” she eventually asked.
“Working at none of your damn business. What do you want?”
“Don’t be such a wanker, Travis,” her voice boomed, and I felt like ducking for cover. “You’ve been acting like a little bitch ever since I stole that report.”
Travis white-knuckled the steering wheel. “Your little escapade could possibly get you arrested. Did you know Morgan has video surveillance of you ransacking her room?”
There was a pause. “No shit?” Then a bit more cautiously, “How do you know that?”
“How the fuck do you think I know that?” Travis growled.
“That bitch!” she fumed, and I nodded my agreement even though Mac couldn’t see it. “You’re not going to tell Dad, are you?”
She sounded worried so I figured Steve would probably lock her in prison himself if he heard about what she did. It wasn’t easy being a girl and being badass. People tended not to like it. Not that Mac cared about whether anyone liked it or not. She was a law unto herself. “I will if you don’t stop going all Dirty Harry on everyone. It’s got to stop.”
“Yes, of course,” she replied quickly.
Travis slammed a fist on the steering wheel, obviously not believing a word of it. “I mean it.”
“So what happened?” she asked, deflecting. “Did you go pay her a little visit? Did she hand over the video?”