The silence between us is heavy, weighted with all the things we're not saying. We both know this meeting could change everything. If the raid was successful, we're one step closer to shutting down the Rebels and exposing whoever in the Clark family is helping them. If it wasn't, we're back to square one.
When we pull up to the barn, Chief Harrison is pacing. That's never a good sign. In all the time I've been working with him, I've never seen the man pace. He's always calm, always controlled.
But today he's pacing.
Devil and I exchange a look before getting out of the truck. Harrison stops when he sees us, running a hand over his face.
"Tell me you got something," Devil says without preamble.
"We got something," Harrison says. "Just not what we were hoping for."
My jaw tightens. "What does that mean?"
"It means we executed the warrant, searched the warehouse top to bottom, and we didn't find any fentanyl." He pauses. "But we did find evidence that it had been there recently."
"Evidence?" I ask.
"Residue, some packaging materials. A scale with trace amounts still on it." Harrison pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through photos. "Enough to know we were right about what was happening there, but not enough to make any arrests."
"Fuck." Devil kicks at the dirt. "They were tipped off."
"That's what I think. Someone knew we were coming and cleaned the place out before we got there." Harrison's expression is dark. "The question is who and how."
I feel cold settle in my gut. "You think there's a leak?"
"I don't know what to think. The only people who knew about the raid were me, you two, and the judge who signed the warrant. Unless one of you told someone?—"
"We didn't," I say immediately. "We were at the clubhouse all night with witnesses. We didn't make any calls, didn't send any texts. We followed protocol."
"Then either the judge has loose lips, or someone very smart figured out we were watching them." Harrison puts his phone away. "Either way, the Clarks and the Rebels know we're onto them now. Which makes them more dangerous."
Devil crosses his arms. "What's the play?"
"We need to get inside their operation. Get someone to make a buy, set up a meeting, something that gets us direct evidence of the drug trafficking."
"You want us to set up a buy with the Rebels?" I ask.
"I want you to ask for a meeting. Tell them you've got buyers, that you want to work with them instead of against them." Harrison looks between us. "It's risky, but it might be our only shot at getting the evidence we need."
Devil and I are quiet for a moment. What Harrison's asking isn't just risky. It's potentially deadly. If the Rebels or the Clarks suspect we're working with the cops, or are cops, we're dead. And not just us. Everyone we care about becomes a target.
But it's also our job. It's what we signed up for.
"We'll do it," Devil says finally. "We'll reach out to the Rebels, see if we can set something up."
"Good. But be careful. These people are smart, and now they're paranoid. One wrong move and this whole thing blows up in our faces."
I nod, my mind already racing ahead to how we're going to approach this. The Rebels aren't stupid. They're not going to just sit down with us without questions. We're going to need a good story, a believable reason for why we suddenly want to work with them.
"There's something else," Harrison says, and his tone makes me look up. "Now that we've poked the bear, now that the Clarks and Rebels know we're onto them, it's time to come clean with Allison. Seriously clean."
My heart stops. "What?"
"She needs to know who you really are, Dime. Or should I say, Grant." Harrison's expression is serious. "If this goes sideways, if the Rebels figure out you're a cop, Allison becomes a target. She needs to know what she's walking into."
"I can protect her without her knowing everything."
"No, you can't." Harrison cuts me off. "You can't protect her if she doesn't know the danger she's in. And you can't ask her to trust you with her life when you're lying to her about yours."
