The rage that floods through me is white-hot, blinding. My hand tightens on the phone until the plastic creaks.
"Which station?"
"Number 3. Levi, wait?—"
I hang up and gun the engine, tearing through traffic with one thought burning in my mind.
He took her. That bastard took her.
If he touches one hair on her head, I'll burn his whole world down.
The Number 3 station is a squat brick building in a neighborhood that's seen better days.
I park my bike out front, not caring about the looks I get from the officers coming and going.
Let them look. Let them see exactly who's coming through their doors.
Inside, the desk sergeant takes one look at my cut and reaches for his radio.
"I need to see Chief Varro," I say before he can speak. "Now."
"Sir, you can't just?—"
"I'm not leaving until I talk to him." I plant my hands on the counter, leaning in. "So you can either call him down here, or I can start making a scene. Your choice."
The sergeant hesitates, weighing his options.
I'm betting he's been warned about me—the outlaw biker president with blood on his hands and a grudge against the Chief.
He doesn't want this escalating any more than I do.
"Wait here," he says finally, picking up the phone.
I wait.
The minutes stretch like hours.
I'm acutely aware of every cop in the building, every suspicious glance, every hand drifting toward a weapon.
They're scared of me. Good. They should be.
Finally, a door opens. Varro steps through, his face carefully blank.
"President Hale. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Where is she?"
"I assume you mean Ms. Tiernan." He adjusts his cuffs, casual and unhurried. "She's being questioned about her relationship with my son. Standard procedure in a murder investigation."
"Your son beat her. For three years. She's a victim, not a suspect."
"That remains to be determined." His eyes are cold. Calculating. "We have reason to believe she may have been involved in Cain's death. Perhaps even helped plan it."
"That's bullshit and you know it."
"Do I?" Varro steps closer, lowering his voice so only I can hear. "She was the last person to see him alive. She had motive—years of alleged abuse. And she immediately fled to your clubhouse, where she's been ever since." He smiles, thin and sharp. "It's not a hard case to make."
"She had nothing to do with what happened to Cain."
