Page 40 of Dirty Salvation

Fuck that.

He’d gotten shot of his idiot Uncle, taken his gavel and bounced the fat oaf of a cop back to the ground.

Rider saw him now and then when he rode into town. He’d eaten himself to a fatter state, a giant round gut protruding over too tight jeans and a shirt busting at the seams. He’d always glare at Rider but otherwise kept his mouth shut. Talk was he was a professional gambler now after his disgraced discharge from the force.

The club had a side business of gambling and loans, lots of dirty money they made clean through the bike shop and other endeavors here and there, not enough money to make the IRS sit up and take notice.

Rider was smart like that.

Texas, his treasurer and money wizard, more so.

There wasn’t a dime of the club’s money Texas didn’t know where it was going at any given time. And it was Texas who was running the whole shebang of the money loans. Just atouchillegal, but fuck if it wasn’t profitable and the club needed all the liquid cash they could lay their hands on right now. It wasn't their main business, but it was a good side bene for the times any chapters struggled.

Wouldn’t that be amusing for old fat ex-cop to barrel himself up for a loan to pay off his gambling debts? Rider would get a hard-on telling that odious fool how far he could fuck off. Right then, though, he was pouring a fresh black coffee, carrying two cups, he handed one to over to Charlie who was sat in front of Rider’s desk out in the cab office, no way he was letting a cop, even one he liked, get comfortable inside his clubhouse.

Curious tone in place he asked. “You got any idea what went down over at Westbanks then? Heard there were bodies.”

He gave the very obvious impression he was fishing when in actual fact he knew more than Charlie did. Sat in his tan uniform with his shiny gold star pinned to his chest, a gun belt slung around his waist the guy took a long sip, arching his brow at Rider.

“You really gonna play it this way, Rider?” Sharp green eyes looked on. Charlie-boy was a shrewd cop.

“Not sure what you’re gettin’ at, Sheriff. Just a perturbed citizen wantin’ to know if someone is fire-starting buildings in the neighborhood, get me? I got businesses to protect. Those same businesses that profit the city, I might add.”

The sheriff glared hard enough to curdle milk before bursting out. “Fifteen dead bodies! All with mysterious stab wounds, bullet holes while they slept in their beds. They didn't stab themselves and set their club on fire, Rider!”

He rolled a meaty shoulder. “Maybe they had a game of Russian roulette get out of hand.” Rider shrugged. “My heart bleeds, I’ll send flowers. Still not seein’ what this has to do with me.”

"How long have we known each other now, Rider, a decade, give or take a year?"

Rider had retaken his seat, cradling his own mug with his frozen fingers, he needed a second space heater in here or risk dying during the winter months.

He gave the sheriff a brief nod wondering where he was going with the memory lanes, not that he cared, whatever kept the cop off the topic of who fried theRebelslike chicken fingers.

"Then how 'bout you give me a little credit and don't try to drip feed me any more bullshit. Do I think you have information about those murders? Yes, I do." His words were smoothly good-natured, calm now, but Rider could hear the underlying steel in his tone as he addressed the fire head on.

"Those boys were asleep, Rider, whoever got in, got in quick and quiet, fires started in various places at the same time, it didn't just spread slowly, it caught like a tsunami of flames, no chance for anyone to get out alive." His jaw tightened.

Charlie might be a good cop who knew who was criminal in his territory and who didn't deserve to live, didn't mean he approved of murder. Rider watched the play of emotions cross his face. Pity this would be an open and shut case for the sheriff.

“Do you know something about it, Rider, yes or no?”

"If I knew anything, that would be incriminating myself in an ongoing investigation, Charlie. So, unless you’re gonna arrest me for a crime I didn’t commit, I think we’re done here" His discerning gaze swept and held the eyes looking right back at him, a flash of irritation from the sheriff.

Rider's father wasn't good for much, but one thing he always said that rang true was never give them anything to hang you over.

He sure as hell wasn't pointing the finger at himself or the club for this, not even for the sake of a friendship.

Taking a long sip, with the cop watching him he went on. "You know as well I do those bastards had enemies a state long, for you to immediately storm my club throwin' around goddamn unfounded accusations, I'm fuckin' insulted, Charlie. This ain't Westside Story. My boys and me got better things to be doin' with life than goin' near their stink."

"Jesus H Christ. Now I never accused you of anything, did I? I said I think you know something of what happened and why. Nothing goes on in this town without theSoulssay so. If you have a clue who did this I'd be mighty appreciative is all, jeez. All jumping to conclusions and shit."

He might have sounded indignant, but Charlie had a smile in his green eyes.

Smart sheriff.

He'd wanted theRebelsout of his hair as much as Rider did. Maybe not withmurder.

Rider had done the guy and his police department a favor and he didn't even know it, would never know it because Rider would go to the electric chair before he put his name to this crime.