The men who walked out with us pull their guns as well, all of them pointed at the dirty cop. Glancing at them, more than a few of the men who I’ve come to know over the last few days have gleeful smiles on their faces. That should scare me, but it doesn’t. Not even a little bit.
“You’re really going to pull guns on a cop and protect this woman? She’s a criminal, and I have a warrant for her arrest,” he says it like he believes his own bullshit. All I can do is shake my head.
If he thought his badge offered any protection, he’s misjudged the situation.
When I peek around the wall of muscle that is my big, bad biker, the only one without a gun in his hand, I notice it’s not only the men who walked out with us who are holding guns on Wagner. There are a few brothers on the other side of the gate, which is still closed, doing the same.
“How’d they get out there?” I whisper the question, not even meaning to ask it out loud.
“Back gate,” Briggs grunts and my fingers tighten on his cut. Briggs projects his voice, his tone taunting, “She’s a criminal?”
“Yes,” Wagner confirms, his gun still aimed in my direction, “I have a warrant for her arrest. I would suggest handing her over or else a lot of shit will be hitting your club. I’m sure there are things you don’t want found in there,” he motions toward the clubhouse with his gun.
Mayhem muses, “Why would an Internal Affairs cop be here with a warrant to arrest a criminal all by himself?” Wagner freezes, his face asking all the questions he doesn’t put into words. Mayhem chuckles, the sound low and ominous, like a storm you watch approach knowing destruction is coming. “Yeah, Wagner,” he sneers, “we know exactly who you are and why you’re here.”
All of the pretense, which there wasn’t much to begin with, melts away. “She must be a good fuck if you’re protecting her.” He’s expecting a reaction, but when my man doesn’t flinch, he keeps going like he’s won something when it’s clear every breath he takes is all bravado. “I looked into you Mayhem,” he spits out the road name like a curse. “You should protect yourself and your club.
Wagner thinks it’s a threat. Maybe it would be if my man was afraid of getting his hands dirty.
“I am,” Briggs tells him. When Wagner’s twists up in confusion, my man adds, “I’m protecting my woman from a dirty fucking cop who killed his wife who was in the middle of leaving him. The only good thing here is that you didn’t have kids with her, that would make this whole situation even messier.”
Well. Shit.
Wagner’s face turns murderous and I have no doubt that right now he looks a lot like he did when he killed Kendra. The memory of her last moments pop into my mind unbidden. I hadbeen doing such a good job of pushing those memories to the side for my own sanity.
“What’s the plan here? The only thing you can do is let me walk away,” Wagner tries to sound like he’s in control. We all know he’s not.
There’s something in his voice, the dismissiveness of it, that has rage flaring in my belly. I step to the side, exposing myself to Wagner, but I can’t worry about that right now.
“Where do you get off coming here like you didn’t murder someone days ago? You’ve been walking through life like you aren’t a criminal, like the ones you took an oath to bring to justice,” my words drip with disgust.
They keep rolling off my tongue, “You killed the woman you vowed to love, the woman you committed to. For what? Because she didn’t want to put up with your bullshit anymore?” I scoff, the sound layered with pure rage. “I’ve known Mayhem for a matter of days, and I know down to my soul that he would never do anything to hurt me because he’s mine and I’m his.” Briggs sucks in a breath and his back goes rigid, but I barely notice. “But you killed your wife. And you call yourself a man,” I lob the words like grenades.
Briggs shifts again, blocking Wagner from my view and my angry tirade. He reaches back and curls his hand around my hip, giving it a squeeze which is more warning than check-in. It’s clear he doesn’t want me to move again.
And I understand why, but this dirty cop pisses me off. There are so many layers here of wrong and it feels impossible to uncover all of them.
“You can’t prove a damn thing,” Wagner’s words are all manufactured swagger.
“We’ll see about that,” Briggs says the words with a finality that has me peeking back around his torso.
I watch as Wagner’s approached from behind and grabbed. He struggles against the hold on him, but there is no way he’s going to get away. He’s going to find out what the real meaning of justice is.
As Wagner kicks up a fuss, Briggs turns and looks down at me. His blue eyes burn bright under the light of the moon. He’s looking at me with so much love that the word slips and slides along the tip of my tongue like it wants to escape.
He takes my mouth in a brutal kiss. One that leaves me clinging to him and panting as he pulls away from me.
“Don’t ever step from behind me when I’m shielding you from danger,” he growls the words.
Even though he’s being demanding, it’s a huge fucking turn on. But now is not the time.
“I knew I was safe,” I tell him without any heat in my words, just the truth of them.
“Not the point.”
“Okay,” I breathe out, “I won’t do it again.”
It’s an easy promise to make because I don’t see this situation coming up again. I could be wrong, but I think it’s a pretty good bet to make.
