The new guy nods and the other guy leaves.
“So,” I lean back in my seat. “What am I in here for? I haven’t done anything wrong.” I lean forward. “If my old boss is behind this, I wasn’t the one who set fire to his garage. That was his crazy bitch of a wife.”
The man smiles, shaking his head. “No. It’s not about that at all. You’re not in any trouble, Nova. I just want to ask you some questions.”
“Questions about what?” Unease prickles down my spine.
“First, let me introduce myself. I’m Detective Tucker Davis,” he starts, crossing his muscled arms over his firm chest. I try to ignore the way his shirt strains with the movement. Fucking hell, he’s pretty. “And I’d like to ask you a couple of questions about your Alphas.”
My eyes snap up to his as panic sweeps in. Oh fuck. Oh fuckity, fuck, fuck. This can’t be good. Not at all.
Chapter 12
Tucker
One Month Ago
My fingers tap the desk as I scroll through the files in front of me, eyes squinting as if I could find something that was previously missing.
I’ve read every single word so many damn times, but I still pray something I haven’t found yet pops out at me.
“Fuck,” I groan, leaning back in my seat and closing my eyes as I scrub at my face. If I look at this computer any longer, my eyes are going to fucking bleed.
Maybe I should throw in the towel and give up, just like everyone else did. There’s a reason this case is closed. No matter how many people work on it, some-fucking-how, these men fall through the cracks.
There’s something more at play here. My best guess is that fucking piece of shit who runs the MC here has something do to with it.
It’s like any time the Steel Devils or anyone related to them is mentioned, people shut down and avoid eye contact. I fucking hate it.
I moved to a smaller city to get away from the crazy that is New York and better my chances at progressing my career, but I’m starting to see it might have been a mistake.
I’ve been here a year, and I’m damn good at my job. Yet, just like every other police department I’ve worked at, I’ve never been enough to make it past junior detective. Every time I’m close to cracking a case wide open, the lead detective does the last bit of work and steals my fucking win.
It’s the biggest reason why I left New York. My father knows people here, said he swore the Atlanta police department was the best choice, only they weren’t looking to add anymore officers to their sector, and instead sent me down here to Savannah. For the most part, it hasn’t been bad. The people seem chill, except for the way they turn a blind eye to that damn MC.
Why? From what I've heard, the whole fucking lot deserve to be locked up.
“Holy mother of god!” Chris, one of my co-workers and probably the only person here who actually talks to me, bursts into my little makeshift office. Okay, it was a supply closet, but it works. Once I get promoted to detective, I’ll have a real office.
“What?” I ask, jumping to my feet. “What's wrong? What’s happened?”
“You will never believe it,” he laughs, eyes wide and wild, a grin stretched across his face.
“How about you tell me what's going on and we can see if I believe it or not?”
“Oh, right,” he chuckles, running a hand through his wavy blond hair. “The Steel Devils...” he starts and my heart begins to race. “They’re dead.”
“What?” My brows furrow. “Like all of them?”
“Okay, well, not all of them. But like a good chunk of them. Their prez and VP for sure. We just got the call from the LAPD about it. It was a big fucking mess.”
“Holy shit.” I blink at him in shock. “Who did it?”
Chris snorts. “Like anyone would know. Dirty cops covering shit up, like always.” He rolls his eyes.
“Of course,” I mutter, running a hand over my smoothly shaven jaw.
Chris is a good guy and loyal Beta. He has the same mindset as me with being annoyed by people turning a blind eye to the MC, so it’s no surprise that he’s so thrilled about their downfall.
