Page 1 of T-Bone (Steel Demons MC #11)

Faith

I t’s always the ones you least expect.

It was a phrase I said at least once a day as a private investigator, whether I was following a cheating spouse, which to be honest was a big part of what kept the lights on, or like today, when I was surveilling a shady business partner.

I’d been following Noah Carpenter for more than a week, tracking every stop he made and every dollar he spent and every woman whose bed he shared.

His partners wanted to know everything, which was why they hired a former police detective to gather all the information they needed to get rid of him.

It wasn’t what I thought I’d be doing when I turned thirty, following around crooks, creeps, and cheaters for cash, not when I’d become the youngest detective—female or otherwise—in Las Vegas Police Department’s history.

I thought I’d be making busts and getting justice in the robbery-homicide division for a couple of decades before I became sergeant and then captain and maybe one day, Chief of Police.

That was before . It was another lifetime ago, back before the rug had been snatched from underneath me.

Before my sister and niece had been killed, at least allegedly killed according to my bosses, but I knew better.

There’d never been any traces of Chloe or Gemma, though there was enough of Chloe’s blood to safely say she was no longer breathing, and two years ago she’d been officially declared dead.

But Gemma? I knew there was something up with the crime scene and the lack of evidence, but I’d been shut down, told that Red Rock was outside of metro jurisdiction and hadn’t asked for help.

Effectively I was told to stand down. As if I could stand down on my own blood’s murder.

And that order had shaken my confidence in my PD and my fellow officers.

A murder-suicide, the Red Rock called it, which wasn’t too unbelievable since Chloe’s husband, Marcus, was a violent and abusive biker.

Still, none of it sat right. Marcus was the kind of guy who’d go suicide by cop before he’d ever pull the trigger on himself.

Yet my captain and my chief, and even my partner had all gone along with it.

It all stank to high hell, and I was the only one who seemed to think so, so I did what I had to do.

I left the department and found a way to look into my sister’s death, and the whereabouts of my niece on my own.

It hadn’t taken nearly as long as I expected to get my license, not with my law enforcement experience.

So I left town and moved fifty miles away, and for the past two and a half years I’ve been working in the private sector, making more money than I ever made as a detective, while I investigated what happened to Chloe and Gemma in my free time.

So far, I hadn’t uncovered any new leads, but I knew I would. My second year as a detective I’d helped crack a twenty-year-old cold case thanks to a napkin left in the bottom of an evidence box, so I knew the power of the long game. It was running low, but I wasn’t out of hope.

Yet.

I’d just pulled into the parking lot of a place called T&A when my phone buzzed on top of the coins inside the cup holder in the center console.

My five-year-old sedan wasn’t pretty, but it was clean and reliable, and that was all I needed.

I picked up the phone, making sure I saw Carpenter go inside the strip club before I turned my gaze to the screen and the caller ID.

Jackson Morgan was the Red Rock detective who handled Chloe and Gemma’s case, and the only other person I believed was truly sorry he hadn’t been able to find the truth.

I inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering, “Jackson, hey.”

There was a long, pregnant pause before his familiar deep voice sounded, “Detective Welsh.”

“Faith, please.” It didn’t hurt anymore, not as much as it had a year ago, but that sting of lost potential would always burn a little. “What’s up?”

“I caught a body. Female, late twenties, definite homicide.” He was quiet for a long minute, and I knew there was more, so I let the silence settle between us until he was ready to speak. “There was a hair near the body, and we ran a DNA panel on it.”

A match popped which meant it was someone in the system for one reason or another. “Chloe?”

“No,” Jackson sighed. “It’s Gemma’s DNA.”

In that moment my entire world stopped. I’d known that three-year-old Gemma hadn’t died that fateful night three years ago.

Marcus was a piece of shit, without a doubt, and a psychopath to boot, but he’d loved the tiny female version of himself.

None of it made sense and it still didn’t.

“Gemma?” My voice came out quiet and shaky.

“Yeah Faith. You were right.” There wasn’t a hint of annoyance in his voice, just a bland fact.

“She’s not dead.” There was no way her hair would’ve been found near a fresh body three years later. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“Not yet.” His voice pitched lower, and the background noise faded as if he’d walked away from it. “The official story is going to be that her jealous ex took her out but there’s no proof of it. His alibi is strong.”

Fuck. There had always been something off about how quickly the department was willing to write a story and jam the evidence to fit the theory with or without an arrest. “I don’t… understand.”

“Yeah, me neither. But I knew you’d want to know.”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me, my gaze fixed on the T&A entrance without seeing a damn thing. “Thank you, Jackson.”

“It’s the least I could do,” he practically growled. “I never thought you were wrong, but my hands were tied. Then and now.”

“I know,” I replied because I’d been there. He hadn’t liked it any more than I did, but we had a power structure, and we all adhered to it. “I appreciate it. Truly.”

“Good luck, because the new Chief’s stance is that this doesn’t change anything and they aren’t reopening Chloe’s case.” He ended the call after that warning and I sat in that parking lot feeling a renewed sense of hope settle deep in my belly.

I knew that it was time. Three years had passed, and I was heading back to the place that had taken everyone I cared about away from me, and then the only thing I had left. My job.

I was going back to Red Rock.

I was going to get answers.

***

I packed a couple of bags and hopped on the interstate.

Red Rock was a small desert town twenty miles outside of Las Vegas.

Just far enough away that the city lights were barely a twinkle.

After three years of distance, I saw the place with fresh eyes.

The buildings were rundown, and the ones that had been vacant for more than a year made the place look like one of those old, faded factory towns from the Nineties.

Not much had changed since I was last here, broken and depressed, determined to find out the truth that everybody else wanted to stay hidden.

Then again, not much had changed for me in the past three years if you didn’t count losing the only family I had left in the world.

Coming back here felt like, I don’t know, visiting a ghost town or an unmarked grave.

Even though Jackson had casually mentioned a new Chief of Police, I sat in my car for several minutes to steel myself to face old friends and foes alike inside the two-story gray cement building.

I’d been sure back then that Red Rock PD was full of dirty cops and that hadn’t changed, so I kept my expectations low.

I stepped out of the car and smoothed down the crisp, navy blue jacket I’d chosen for this meeting. I didn’t expect a warm welcome or anything else, but I had to try. For Chloe and Gemma.

Inside, the Red Rock PD was a lot different than I remembered.

For starters there were a lot fewer guys at desks with silver hair, replaced with fresh, young faces.

There were still a few familiar faces who looked at me with equal surprise and annoyance, as if I was the reminder of the time they fell down on the job.

“Hey there, little lady, what can I do for you?” The man with the big smile and swollen belly wore all the hallmarks of the Chief.

He was dressed in his uniform, crisp in the places it wasn’t stretched to the brink of bursting, Stetson included, and he carried that jovial air of authority known to small town policemen.

“Chief Maynard?” I extended my hand and gave a warm smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m Faith Welsh.”

“Well how can I help you, Faith Welsh?”

“Your department handled the death of Chloe Brunson and the disappearance of Gemma Brunson, and I’d like to get a look at the case file for Ashley Monroe.”

His smile was immediately placating. “What’s a pretty young thing bothering herself with such dark matters?”

“Mrs. Brunson was murdered though no body was found. And there’s been no trace of her daughter for three years.

Until a hair found at the Monroe crime scene.

” I kept my tone firm and even, professional without questioning his authority.

“The family has retained my services to find out what’s happened. ”

Relief swamped him. “That’s easy, Miss Monroe was killed by a jealous ex-boyfriend whose whereabouts have yet to be nailed down.”

That was suspicious. “What is the name of the boyfriend?” He didn’t answer right away. “I just want to make sure it’s the same suspect the family mentioned.”

Chief Maynard studied me closely, trying to figure out which parts of my story were true and which ones were a lie. “Can’t divulge those details in an ongoing case, sweetheart. Sorry.” He didn’t look sorry at all—in fact, he looked rather worried.

It wasn’t the first time in my career I’d had to deal with corrupt small town PD, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. “So there’s nothing else you can share?”

“Not until we find the ex. If you manage to track him down,” he said, his tone thick with sarcasm, “be sure to send him our way.”

“Yeah. Right.” That was the last thing I’d do. “I have an official request for the bodycam footage of responding officers.” It was just long enough that the footage was now available. “Please.”

He was reluctant but duty bound to hand it over. “It’ll be a couple minutes.” Maynard retrieved the file and copied it himself, which was scut work for anyone but a rookie.

Another strange clue.

I thanked the Chief with a smile and headed back to my car to do more digging into Ashley’s life.

There were photos of her online, and I wondered what secrets she carried that ended her life too soon, and I wondered what she knew about my niece.

There had to be a connection to Chloe and Marcus, which meant likely some tenuous connection to his biker gang as well.

A commotion in the parking lot captured my attention. Three officers hauled in five drunk men who were big and rowdy, and at the loud stage in their drunken antics.

Perfect. I slipped out of the car as a plan took form, using my blue suit to blend in during the chaos.

The men were loud and rambunctious, pushing and shoving each other, which required more officers to assist. That was the moment I slipped behind the front desk and found the murder file for Ashley Monroe.

I didn’t have time to read it so I pulled out my phone and scanned as many pages as I could before the commotion died down.

And then I slipped out of Red Rock PD and headed to my hotel to go over the files. And to rein in the hope that was threatening to overwhelm me.

Gemma was alive!