Page 39 of Thick

He rubbed his jaw. “I was going to arrest you on a bullshit charge.”

“I just wanted to make sure it was me that got arrested,” I said.

As if he needed Crip’s approval, the detective looked at him and raised both eyebrows. “Well?”

“If he’s got the guts to do that, he must have a plan that he thinks will work.”

I glanced at Crip. “Appreciate it, Brother.” I turned toward the cop. “I need to stop at the CVS before you take me in, though.”

He looked at me like I’d asked him to let me sleep with his wife. “For what?”

“Can’t tell you,” I said. “I don’t want you to have to deny anything if this goes to trial.”

“I’m not cuffing you now.” He motioned toward the car. “Just get in.”

“Damn it, Meat,” Crip said. “Use your head in there.”

I glanced at Pee Bee and then Crip. “In case I don’t make it back, I need to tell you fellas something.”

“We’ll take care of your sled,” Crip said. “I’ll put it in the shop.”

I found the thought of rotting away in prison ironic, considering the content of my recent book. “My guess is I’m not coming back,” I said. “I’m serious.”

“You’ll be back.”

“You haven’t seen this place.” I gazed beyond him and shook my head. “I’m not coming back.”

I shifted my focus to Crip. “I’m not an editor.” My gaze fell to his boots. “I haven’t been for some time. I just want to come clean before I go. It’s the only thing I haven’t been truthful about. Been eating at me for a while, too.”

He slapped my left shoulder. “Pretty proud of you on the one you just released, TD. From what I hear you might hit the New York Times Bestseller’s list with that one.”

His response caught me off guard. I looked at him with wide eyes. “You knew?”

“Known for some time now.” He grinned. “Peyton reads all your stuff. She loves it. She’s getting ready to read the new one again right now.”

“So does Tegan,” Pee Bee said. “She loves ‘em.”

“Alright, then.” I swallowed a lump of pride. Emotion soon replaced it, all but bringing me to tears. “Well, let me go do this deal.”

I glanced at each of them. “I love you, my brothers.”

Crip rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and then met my gaze with wet eyes. “Filthy Fuckers Forever.”

Pee Bee and I responded in unison. “Forever Filthy Fuckers.”

Chapter Fifteen

Bobbi

I had been a blubbering mess on and off all evening. The book had taken me on a ride I wasn’t prepared for. Becker being covered in Stephen Sanders’ blood when the police arrived caused them to arrest him for suspicion of murder. His predisposition to carry a straight razor was brought up in a pre-trial conference, and then presented to the grand jury. That one grain of evidence was enough to indict him.

His straight razor was entered into evidence, as was his blood-soaked shirt, a photo of the trail of blood that led to his home, and a photo of the bloody handprints on the door.

Becker claimed that he met Stephen in a coffee shop, and that their conversations led to him fashioning an engagement ring out of twenty-four carat gold. Incapable of producing the ring, phone records, emails, or text messages to support his claim, it was dismissed by the jury as being a lie.

At Becker’s demand, the members of the MC did not attend his trial. He feared in doing so that they would each subject themselves to biased minds and eyes of the detectives, prosecutors, and onlookers that had charged him with a crime that he did not commit. Protecting his only family was his first concern.

Despite his demand, the president of the club, Crip, sat silently in the rear of the courtroom throughout the entire trial.