I shrug, casual. “Yeah. I was trying to show you the corruption in your own department. Trying to help you see the truth about Marcus. I knew we couldn’t bring down Rourke on our own, and when this opportunity presented itself, that opportunity in the form of you, undercover at our clubhouse, IknewI had to take it. To workyouover. To showyouthat we arenotthe bad guys here, and that, in this case, it’syourorganization that’s corrupt.”
My expression shifts slightly, and I let a hint of hurt bleed through.
Just enough.
“But I guess I blew it on New Year’s, huh? Let myself get too close.” I pause, my jaw tightening, remembering me slipping. I let my animal side take over. I wanted her so bad that night, Itook her into the storage shed and showed her how we make our income. Fucking her on that gold is stained in my memory.
It was the best fucking night of my life.
But now it might just be my undoing.
“That’s why you’re here, right?” I let her get too close to the truth.
Too close tome.
The vulnerability I showed her is now used against me.
Her shoulders sag, her eyes somber, and she shakes her head. “Sin, I—”
She goes to speak, but the clubhouse doors open again, interrupting her. A plain-clothed detective walks through, a woman, put together, with an authoritative presence. Something about her face tugs at my memory, and my brows furrow, but I can’t place it.
She’s older, so different from…
“Wait.” I stare at her, recognition flickering but not quite landing.
The pieces won’t fit.
The image in my mind is of someone broken, someone lost.
The woman speaks, her voice steady, professional, “We’re here because my rookie detective has done an amazing job.”
Victoria looks at the woman, silent communication passing between them. A plea in Victoria’s eyes that I don’t understand.
The woman continues, stepping closer, “I sent her in with a mission to bring down a biker club. But instead, she’s given me something much bigger.” She moves into better light, and my breath catches. “Something I believeyouhelped her uncover…” She pauses, and the world tilts on its axis. “My son.”
The words hang in the air.
My poker chip slips from my fingers, the sound of it hitting the floor echoes in the sudden silence, a metallic clatter that feels too loud, too final.
I stagger slightly, my hand gripping the bar for support. My eyes lock on the woman’s face.
Older, yes.
Different, yes.
Put together, yes.
Professional, yes.
But the eyes.
I know those eyes.
“N-no.” My voice cracks, something that never happens. “You’re dead. They said… the desert…”
Her eyes glisten with tears. “I survived, Diesel. I’m so sorry, but I survived.”
The name, myrealname, hits like a physical blow.
