Page 13

Riley

T he clubhouse was quieter than usual when we woke up in the late afternoon. There were lots of club girls but very few brothers in the bar. The imbalance was obvious—so much so that even I noticed.

I leaned towards Havoc and whispered, “Where are all your club brothers?”

His eyebrows rose. “Unless I miss my guess, they’re busy figuring out what’s going on with our friendly neighborhood stalker.”

I glanced over my shoulder to see if he was serious, but before I could ask, Storm’s deep voice answered for him.

“Good guess, Havoc. That’s exactly where they are.”

We walked over to the bar to find Rosie’s smiling face behind the counter. I’d met her before, and she was always warm and welcoming. Havoc dropped down onto the barstool beside Storm, and I took the seat on his other side.

“Good afternoon, sleepyheads,” Rosie said brightly. “You both want coffee, right?”

We nodded, and I murmured my thanks.

Havoc asked Storm, “Should I assume something popped off while we were sleeping?”

“Yeah. Hacker dug up some good information on Slater, and I talked to our contact at the Griffinsford PD.”

“What did our contact have to say?” Havoc asked as Rosie slid two steaming mugs of coffee across the counter.

Storm’s expression twisted with disgust. “For starters, he’s not a damn detective. He’s just a regular cop with a beat.”

Havoc rolled his eyes. “Why does that not fuckin’ surprise me?”

“Because you’ve got two functioning brain cells to rub together,” Storm replied gruffly, before taking another long drink from his beer. “Anyway, the reason you don’t see any brothers is because I sent them to cover his house, monitor his beat, and dig up information on the streets. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover to bring the two of you up to speed. Hacker’s going to be the point man on this operation. He’s waiting in his office if you want to go back and talk to him.”

“Of course we do. I’m eager to know what he found out, and I know Riley is too.”

Storm glanced over at me. “It’s nice to see you again, Riley. I only wish it were under better circumstances.”

“So do I. Thank you for your help with Slater. I don’t know what I would’ve done without backup from Havoc and the Dark Slayers MC.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“And thanks for letting me and Dae stay last night. She’s gone to stay with her parents until everything calms down. She’d only been staying at mine temporarily and I think it’s totally freaked her out.

“Yeah, I can see how she would be scared outta her mind.” Storm’s gaze shifted back to Havoc, “So, the two of you are getting along pretty good, huh?”

Havoc smiled and reached for my hand. His grip was firm and grounding. Holding hands with him felt natural. I squeezed back gently because I needed that connection more than I cared to admit.

“Yeah,” he said casually. “Hooking us up was a good call. I even made progress on the problem you hired Riley to fix.”

Storm’s face broke into a proud smile. He reached out and clapped Havoc on the shoulder. “Then it was money well spent.”

I almost told him I wasn’t charging the club for my services, but I held the thought. The conversation had already shifted, and the two men were on a roll. I sipped my coffee and quietly listened as Havoc and Storm bounced from one topic to the next. I was usually talkative, but not today. Thankfully, they let me sit in peace.

Once our mugs were empty, we got up to leave. Storm turned to me before we walked away.

“Zoe wanted me to tell you she had to get back home to the kids, but if you need her, she’s just a phone call away. She and Ali are planning to visit in the morning for breakfast. If you’re up to it, they’d like you to join them.”

That small gesture filled me with unexpected warmth. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Havoc led me down a hallway towards a closed, unmarked door. It was the very place he’d skipped during our original clubhouse tour, citing security reasons. Funny how things had changed.

He knocked lightly, and a gruff voice called out, “Come in.”

He turned the knob, and we stepped into a small room bathed in the warm glow of an overhead light. Hacker sat behind a large desk cluttered with multiple monitors. One oversized screen ran what looked like a multi-database search, while the others displayed maps, feeds, and strings of code. His laptop sat open beside a tray of cables and adapters.

Hacker looked to be in his early forties and sat in a sleek, customized wheelchair with BMX-style wheels. His hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, and his arms were covered in tattoos—one of them fresh and sealed under a clear protective wrap. He wore jeans and a button-up shirt, and his upper torso was solid muscle. I assumed that strength came from years of wheeling himself around—and maybe from sports. His setup gave the impression of someone not just competent, but dangerous.

“How’s the old lady and kids?” Havoc asked, as he settled into a chair.

“Angel’s good. The rugrats? Hellions. You know how active little ones can be.”

“I’ve met your kids. Watching you wrangle them made me hope mine turn out fat and lazy,” Havoc said with a smirk.

Hacker’s mouth dropped open. “I know you well enough to understand you’re just joking, because if your kids end up fat and lazy, it’ll be a fucking miracle. With your luck, they’ll be hyperactive and always into something—like their father.”

“Damn,” Havoc muttered. “You are a scary fucker when you want to be.”

Hacker chuckled, then looked over at me. His tone softened. “It’s nice to meet you, Riley. Sorry you’re going through such a rough time. That cop’s a real piece of work.”

“That’s what everyone says,” I replied, my voice calmer than I felt. “I wish I’d never set eyes on him.”

“Yeah, I imagine you do. You two make yourselves comfortable,” he said. “This won’t take long.”

Havoc stretched an arm around me, his touch protective. I looked up at him, studying the face I was getting far too comfortable seeing first thing when I woke up. When we first met, I’d thought he was prickly and rough. But now I was seeing warmth, depth, and a kind of tenderness I hadn’t expected. It felt like I was discovering an entirely different man.

Hacker’s fingers flew across his keyboard, and a new screen loaded—an info sheet with bullet points and highlighted notes.

“I did a deep dive into Slater’s background,” he said, “and I found all kinds of fucked-up shit.”

Havoc leaned forward, his body tensing with interest, as Hacker began to walk us through the dirt he’d uncovered—item by damning item.

“There’s chatter that Slater was involved in drug smuggling,” Hacker began. “I got that piece of information from our police contact. Several local drug dealers had reported it in an effort to get a reduced sentence, but the allegation was so extraordinary—and the dealers so lacking in credibility—that no one believed them. The report said Slater muled drugs from Cavar County to Griffinsford… in his patrol car, no less. There was an unofficial investigation, but Slater was cleared of any suspicion.”

Havoc let out a low whistle. “No wonder nobody believed it. That fucker must have balls of solid brass.”

“His father was the sheriff of Cavar County,” Hacker continued, “and I suspect he had his own drug-related side hustle going. If you think about it, it was a brilliant plan. Who’s going to suspect a cop of smuggling drugs in his own patrol car?”

Havoc’s shock turned to understanding. “Yeah… yeah, it makes a certain kind of sense. Could explain why Griffinsford PD lets him run wild in our county—they don’t want to get into a wrangle with his old man.”

I wrapped my arms around my stomach. The thought of just running—of getting in my car and driving east until all this was behind me—flashed through my mind like a tempting dream. Everything about this felt too big. Too complicated. My brain and my heart ached just trying to keep up with the depth of it.

But it didn’t stop there.

Hacker moved on to the next bullet point. “I believe Slater is also taking bribes. Our contact says he has a weird obsession with high-profile cases—always involving himself when he shouldn’t, and compromising more than a few of them. The others on the force chalked it up to poor training. He’s been written up and retrained more than once. But when I looked into his finances, I found money tucked away in several small banks. He wasn’t reporting any of it on his taxes.”

“That tracks,” Havoc muttered, shaking his head. “Taking bribes makes more sense than just being a fuckup.”

Hacker glanced back at his screen. “And then there’s the pattern of domestic violence charges. Women file, then drop them. Over and over again. Ten years ago, he dated a woman who disappeared completely after they broke up.”

That jolted me. “Do you think Slater had anything to do with her disappearance?”

“I don’t know,” Hacker admitted. “Maybe he killed her to silence her. Or maybe she realized what a degenerate he was and made herself disappear. Either way, I wouldn’t count it as coincidence.”

Havoc’s hands clenched into fists. “Either way, it’s his fault.”

Hacker leaned over the desk, locking eyes with me. “Officer Slater works patrol in the vicinity of your old office.”

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “Storm already told us he’s not a detective, even though he goes around pretending to be one.”

“He also didn’t tell you that the crime rate in that part of town had skyrocketed since Slater was assigned to the beat.”

I blinked. “No. That’s… that’s a hell of a detail to leave out.”

Havoc swore under his breath. “More proof he’s a dirty cop. He’s probably looking the other way for kickbacks.”

“Our contact said Internal Affairs opened two separate investigations into the crime rate spike. Both went nowhere.”

“Where the hell did this prick get his Teflon coating?” Havoc growled.

“That’s where things get interesting,” Hacker said, sitting forward. “Day before yesterday, he was appointed as a liaison for inter-agency cooperation. That gives him a reason to be outside his assigned area anytime he wants, without raising red flags.”

I sat up straight. “That explains why he never came to my house before now. It was out of his jurisdiction—until it wasn’t.”

“My contact believes the corruption either runs deep or someone powerful is covering for him. Either way, he’s willing to help from the inside.”

“This is more than just one bad cop,” Havoc muttered. “This is a damn web of corruption.”

“Exactly,” Hacker agreed. “Slater is using his badge as a shield while he smuggles drugs, takes bribes, and assaults women. He’s overdue for someone to bring him down.”

“Yeah,” Havoc said grimly. “But we need to understand his operation top to bottom. We need to find his weaknesses.”

“Our contact said one of the dealers who tried to flip on Slater told them he tips dealers off before raids, supplies several clubs with drugs, and acts as a middleman for a slick city accountant who launders the money through offshore accounts. He never meets the accountant face to face—Slater’s the go-between.”

“All that,” Havoc said, running a hand through his hair, “and he still has time to harass women? When the hell does this guy sleep?”

Hacker chuckled humorlessly. “He has at least four burner phones registered to false identities. If we get our hands on those, I’d bet my last dollar they’ll show call logs tied to known dealers and maybe even that accountant.”

The pieces were falling into place—fast and terrifying. But I needed to know one more thing. “How long do you think Slater’s been behind the drug trade in Griffinsford?”

Hacker scrolled through files, quiet for a moment. Then he looked up. “Five years. That’s when he joined the local PD. His first large deposit showed up that same month. Before that, he lived with his father.”

“So he stepped into a police job with zero experience?”

“His record in Cavar County was spotless,” Hacker said. “Either he went from boy scout to criminal overnight… or he was already working with his father, who made sure nothing showed up on paper.”

Havoc nodded slowly. “We need to find out what his father’s into—and how far up this shit goes.”

“I checked him out,” Hacker said. “He’s not ex-military. Failed his psych eval. But he’s worked for several civilian contractors. Still gets payments from two companies—Burdock and Black Oak. They aren’t major players, but they’ve got federal contracts for transporting pharmaceuticals between rehab centers and federal prisons.”

Havoc leaned back in his chair, frowning. “So the father runs legal drug transport while the son deals illegal drugs on the street. That’s some next-level hypocrisy.”

I finally spoke up with my own theory. “What if they were both working in tandem? Some pharmaceutical drugs are extremely expensive. Some cancer meds cost thousands of dollars a dose. Imagine what that would be worth on the black market if a case went missing here and there during transport—let alone if an entire truckload was hijacked. And it’s practically a victimless crime, because I’m sure the shipments are insured.”

Hacker didn’t look surprised in the least. “I was about to get to that part, but you’re right. I suspect the father is selling the high-dollar meds he skims from the shipments, and narcotics are getting cut and passed off to the son to move through his own channels.”

“It reminds me of the old saying, ‘Waste not, want not,’” I added.

“Exactly. I went through all this with Storm and the other club officers earlier while you two were sleeping.”

“I can’t believe the whole damn system is rigged,” Havoc muttered hotly. He looked more upset than I was, his face flushed with anger.

“The problem is, we don’t have hard proof of what’s going on,” Hacker added. “It’s all based on statements from dealers trying to cut deals, your theory, and bank records that Slater and his old man have probably already figured out some shitty way to explain.”

“What if we wait for them to skim a load and then find a way to intercept the drugs?” I suggested.

Both men turned to stare at me, wearing identical expressions of disbelief and disapproval.

Havoc’s voice was firm. “We’re not a one percent club, Riley. We don’t sell drugs, traffic women, or deal in illegal weapons.”

“How about if you gave the drugs away?” I asked quietly.

That caught them both off guard.

Havoc opened his mouth to object, but I cut him off. “Please, hear me out. The way I know about the cost of cancer meds is because my grandmother died of cancer.” I felt myself tearing up but pushed through the lump in my throat. “She needed medication that cost thirty grand a dose. At first, she got help from the pharmaceutical company. Then a state charity helped. When that dried up, I started selling everything we had. But in the end, we just ran out of money.”

“You’re saying she died because she couldn’t afford the meds?” Havoc’s voice was hoarse with disbelief.

“I’m saying the meds worked,” I clarified. “She went into remission more than once. I believe she could’ve gone into remission again—if she’d gotten what she needed.”

Hacker looked straight at me, his tone gentler than usual. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work. There are programs to help people.”

“You’re not wrong. But those programs have rules. My gran was too old, her survival odds too low. So she got put on a waiting list. And she waited herself to death.”

Havoc’s expression shifted to one of empathy. “I know you’re trying to save people, Riley. I’m just not sure our officers would agree to stealing from the federal government—even for a good cause. And there’s no guarantee Slater’s old man even targets meds like that.”

“I’ll tell you what I know,” I said, voice steady now. “If they’re smart enough to skim drugs from secure shipments, they’re targeting the most expensive ones. You wouldn’t be stealing from the government—you’d be stealing from the people who already stole it. That’s not wrong. That’s justice.”

A voice drifted from the doorway. “I fucking agree. Even one case could save lives.”

We all turned to see Storm and Celt standing in the doorway.

Hacker turned his wheelchair towards them. “Didn’t hear you two come in.”

Celt gave a sly grin and jerked his chin. “We’re stealthy feckers. If we do this, Ace’s old lady can keep the meds at her clinic. She’s always helping folks with no insurance.”

Storm nodded sharply. “Dr. Cassandra Harper is our distribution plan. She’s got the patients, the know-how, and the discretion. She’s patched us up plenty over the years. I trust her.”

Havoc perked up, sitting straighter. “So we’re really doing this? Robbing from the rich and giving to the poor? Real Robin Hood shit.”

For the first time since Gran’s death, I felt genuine hope crack through my grief. “We’re doing the right thing, even if it’s not the legal thing,” I said fervently.

Hacker’s face lit up with the most confident grin I’d seen from him yet. “Then I guess we’re all in.” He reached over and picked up a hefty black external hard drive. Holding it up, he said, “This baby has every single thing I’ve uncovered on both Slater Jr. and Sr.—bank records, call logs, voicemails, emails, wire transfers. And yeah, the video your friend took? I uploaded that too.”

“Jesus Christ,” Havoc whispered. “That’s the holy grail for bringing them both down.”

The three men shared a look—grim, electric, and united. For the first time, I didn’t feel like an outsider among them. I was part of this. We weren’t just planning revenge. We were planning a revolution.