Her eyes narrow, then she releases her lips but doesn’t speak. She lifts her head slightly higher, looking down her nose at me as she contemplates what’s going to happen next. Or maybe she’s trying to figure out what I want her to say.
“Who?” she asks.
Smart.
“Manny Garcia,” I state.
Her eyes darken instantly, even though I’m without a doubt sure that she knew exactly who I was talking about when I saidyour man. I watch her, not staring, just waiting patiently for her to continue. I don’t want to intimidate her, but I need her to realize that this is serious.
“What did Manny do now?” she demands, almost grinding her words out.
“I saw what he did to you, and I’m sorry you had to survive that,” I say.
It’s true. I am sorry that happened to her. No woman should suffer abuse at the hands of the man who supposedly loves her. But just as I suspected, she doesn’t accept my sorrows for her abuse.
“Don’t apologize. I didn’t just survive. I now thrive,” she says.
Dipping my chin once, I look down at her, but I don’t move because my head feels like someone is taking a sledgehammer to it. I need to get to the point before I puke or pass out. I’m not sure which one is coming, but one is coming soon, so I’d better get on with the show.
“Why does he want me dead?” I ask.
Her eyes widen, but just slightly. If I weren’t paying close attention to her, I wouldn’t have seen it. She clears her throat and shifts slightly in her seat. She knows why. She’s just not sure she wants to tell me.
“Dead?” she asks, then continues. “He doesn’t want you dead. He wants you to suffer.”
“Why?” I demand.
She shrugs a shoulder. “Manny wants everyone to suffer in some way. Me physically when he couldn’t control me. It’s who he is.”
“Why me?”
There is a moment of silence. She arches a brow, then shakes her head once before continuing. “Your club killed his entire family. You should know that. Do you think there needs to be a different reason?”
“He sought me out personally? Because this feels extremely personal, and while I was there, I wasn’t the only one, and I’m not the president or anything. Yet I’m the only one being targeted. So it’s not obvious.”
She lets out a heavy sigh, an exhale that takes a little too long. I’m about to just walk out of here. She doesn’t fucking know why I’m a target. But then she speaks, and when she does, I see it a bit clearer. Although I still don’t understand it.
“He was in the police academy. Vowed to stay out of club life. Although it was pointless because he was a bigger dick than any one of them, so he should have just fucking joined. He started researching the club after his family was killed. His club and yours equally. When he realized you were a cop, he made it his mission to join and take you down.”
Interesting, but still, it’s not like I made it easy to be found. Sure, the chief knows who and what I am. He doesn’t give a flying fuck. But it’s not like I plastered my name all over club shit that would make it obvious.
“Manny found a thumb drive at his dad’s house. It had a detailed report on every single original charter member of the Vicious Reapers, down to the clubwhores. Pictures, backgrounds, everything. That’s how he knew it was you and who you were.”
I open my mouth to ask her why the fuck his dad had that shit, but then I remember the Bloodhound MC wanted to infiltrate. They wanted to take us down, wanted to ruin us. We were just better at it.
Ended it like you’d kill a snake.
We cut the fucking head off, then we burned the body.
Nobody kidnaps our women and gets away with that shit unscathed. And we didn’t want a war, so a massacre it was. And I know I should feel bad, because there were innocents inside, but they didn’t feel bad about kidnapping an innocent and detailing all the things they were going to do to her.
“So I was targeted just based on the fact that I’m a cop and it was easy to watch me?”
“Basically.” She shrugs a shoulder.
I bite my inner cheek with my teeth and roll the skin around, then push off the wall with my foot. Taking a step forward, I lean down slightly. I’m not close enough to even touch her. I still don’t want to intimidate her, but I need her to truly realize, to see that I am serious.
“I appreciate your help on this,” I begin.
