Page 6

M y ass is beginning to hate this goddamn metal bench, but it’s not like I have many options. It’s either this or a thin foam mattress that rests on a steel slab, which is about as comfortable as it sounds.

“You think that shit yesterday was Remy?” Saint asks, foot bouncing against the concrete floor.

“Had to be,” Rogue answers, eyes perpetually scanning the room like he’s still on watch duty in the military.

“I don’t care who it was. At least the two of them are out there with her right now. We need to focus on what we can do from here to help. I’m not gonna just sit on my ass and twiddle my thumbs while our woman works to get us out of here.”

Saint’s brow scrunches up, creating deep ridges between his eyes. “What the hell can we do while we’re locked up?”

“Remy’s not the only one with contacts. Surely there’s someone that owes us a favor?”

We all go quiet, each of us running through an extremely short mental list of people we might be able to trust enough to help get us the fuck out of here.

“Masterson!” a guard shouts from the door. “Got yourself a visitor. Let’s go.”

I stand and share a look with my brothers, who just nod in response. Lifting my leg over the bench, I confidently walk toward the guard. Once he’s secured my cuffs, we walk down the hallway, but I barely pay attention because my mind is focused on who could be waiting for me on the other side of the glass. I’m both praying it’s my ol’ lady and hoping it’s not. It would be a risk for her to come here, but I’ll be damned if I don’t need to see with my own two eyes that she’s really okay.

We walk into the visitation room, and he points to the second-to-last seat in the row. There are two other inmates in here, and although the low hum of conversation offers the slightest hint of privacy, I know better. There are ears everywhere.

“You’re down there.”

The second I round the partition, I lock eyes with a man I don’t recognize. Sitting calmly on the metal seat, I wait for the officer to unlock my cuffs and step back. As soon as he’s gone, I reach over and lift up the black receiver as the mystery man does the same.

“Mr. Masterson, let me introduce myself. I’m Owen Wallace. Partner at Wallace, Howe, and Hammerstein.”

“And you’re here because…”

He smiles, lines appearing beside his blue eyes. “Because your wife is a very headstrong, persuasive woman. She wanted to be here herself, but I advised against it…for obvious reasons.”

My eyes narrow on the man in the three-piece suit, who looks polished in a way that screams attorney. Doesn’t mean I trust that he is who he says he is. I wasn’t born yesterday.

“If that’s true, then she would’ve told you that I wouldn’t just take your word for it.”

He shifts in his seat. “She did, yes, though I was holding out hope that I could avoid this.”

My head tilts as I study his obvious discomfort.

He clears his throat. “I was dating Charlize when Remy came to live with her. I made the mistake, during our first meeting, of reaching my hand out to shake hers. She flinched back, dropped to the floor, and curled up in a ball beneath the table in the foyer, sobbing. It took Charlize almost an hour to get the panic attack under control. I wasn’t aware of the severity of the crimes against her at the time. Charlie hadn’t had the opportunity to explain the depravity those men had done to her. When she told me the story, I wanted to kill those bastards myself. She was just a girl—barely fifteen—but Charlize assured me that the men in question had been handled by the MC. I didn’t ask what that meant. I knew better. Then Grant showed up a while later and took her out for a long walk—after giving me a look that very clearly told me what he thought of my blunder, of course—and I didn’t see either of them for the rest of the night. Not long after that, Charlize and I decided to part ways. Something I’ve regretted to this day.” He stares at me for a moment, eyes serious as he takes in my lack of emotion. “Do you know, she apologized to me the other day. Said she’s trying to make things right. It matters to her now, more than ever, that her family be a cohesive unit. She wants that stability for…future generations.”

I hear what he’s not saying. He knows about the baby. About Remington wanting our baby to have what she didn’t. I’m starting to believe this man’s story.

“So what brings you here now?”

“Son, we both know the three of you aren’t the Avenging Angel.” His stare is penetrating. “The person responsible for those crimes must’ve suffered something positively horrific to do the things they’re being accused of.”

Obviously, he can’t come right out and admit he knows it’s not us because the real killer sent him here. We’re in the middle of jail where everything is monitored.

“That’s true. Wonder if a person like that could ever live a normal life? Get married. Have kids ?”

“I think with the right support system, anything is possible. Even a serial killer could become one hell of a good mother.”

Not father. Mother.

He clearly knows her history as well as he knows her present, and obviously her future, but how the hell does that help us?

“I agree. Now, the question is, how can you get us the hell out of here and back to our girl before something else happens?”

“Remy’s a tough girl, Mr. Masterson.”

“She is. Doesn’t mean I don’t worry.”

“And it seems you have every reason to. How much have you managed to work out about the current situation?”

Frustration rushes forth, but I tamp it down. “Not a whole helluva lot. We know one of our new prospects that just transferred from our Tucson chapter might be involved, but it’s unclear to what extent.”

He tsks. “I’ve been given the okay to give you more details, none of which are going to make you feel any better.”

My gut churns with dread. I’m already feeling incredibly helpless inside this glorified cage. I’m not sure how much more my mind can take.

“Give it to me straight. We need to know what we might be up against.”

“Colt is Rock’s son. Remington’s half-brother.”

He details the encounter Remy had with the man who managed to slide right under all of our noses, leaving mayhem and destruction in his wake. How could we be so fucking blind?

“Son of a bitch!” I growl, wishing there was something I could punch because the fury roiling through me is making my skin feel too tight.

He solemnly nods. “She handled herself well. Got some much needed information that has helped us gain a clearer perspective of what we’re up against. Now, the problem is working to undo this man's tangled web of lies before he throws something else at us. Remy’s already struggling with the fact that her sister is…indisposed. Charlize and I are worried that if it takes too long to get you three out, Trip and Squire won’t be enough to hold her back through her sister’s continued absence.”

“They still haven’t managed to get a lead on Etta or the guys?”

He shakes his head.

“Tell us what we can do to help. We’ll do anything to support our girl.”

He grins. “Remington was right. You’re all going to make it through this. I’m glad she has you in her corner.”

“We’ll do whatever we can to make her happy. She’s it for all of us.”

“Good.” He nods approvingly, like a proud father. Why that settles the last of my suspicions, I can’t quite say. “For now, I’ve been instructed to tell you that you need to be on alert at all times and to not trust anyone. All communication will run through Big Mack. He’s the only one being kept in the loop for now and will be able to give general updates. No specifics over the phone. For safety reasons, we’ve minimized the use of everyone else’s cell phones to limit tracking, etc. I’ll leave my number with you, and you can call that at any time as well.”

“Understood.”

“Okay, then. With that out of the way, let’s get down to business. Tell me everything you can remember about the house where you were arrested.”

I spend the next forty-five minutes detailing everything from the tip that led us to the house, up to the moment we arrived at the property. Then the shock of finding the elaborate set-up and discovery of Thorn’s dead body.

He takes notes, his pen flying across his notepad until he hums when something catches his attention.

“So Thorn hadn’t been deceased long when you found him?”

I shake my head. “No, it couldn’t have been more than an hour or two max. He was still warm.”

“And you said there was a ton of blood pooled beneath him?”

“Yes. He was lying on the bed, which was soaked with his blood.”

“Did any of you touch him?”

“Rogue had checked for a pulse before he called us in. That was it before the police showed up.”

He taps the pen against his notepad, eyes scanning everything he’s written.

“Now that I’m officially listed as your attorney, I’m going to submit a request for all the records related to your arrest, as well as the case they’re building against you. Once I’ve reviewed everything, I’m going to submit a petition to the court for an emergency meeting. It’s my understanding you all haven’t even gotten your initial hearing yet, correct?”

“Correct. It’s been delayed several times for reasons they refuse to explain to us.”

“Hmmm. That in itself is odd. Give me some time to try to get this sorted and get some answers. As soon as I know what’s going on, I’ll be back.”

“Thanks, Mr. Wallace. We appreciate you stepping in to clear our names.”

He smiles warmly. “Call me Owen. If I get my way, we’re going to be family soon enough.”

With a wink, he hangs up the receiver and stands. For a moment, I watch him walk out the door, trying to contain what’s slowly coming to life within my chest. Hope is a dangerous thing, but I feel like the tides are beginning to shift and things might finally start falling in our favor. Time to go give the boys an update.