And the feds were outside Diane’s house. This smelled too much like horseshit to be a coincidence.
Throwing open one of the back doors, I marched to my office, paying no mind to anyone I shoved past on the way.
I needed to prove to my anti-social, paranoid ID guy in Texas that my request wasn’t a trap, I was telling the truth, and Diane wasn’t bait. Ivan needed to be convinced he wasn’t a big fish the feds were hoping to catch through me. The delay and new hoops to jump through were frustrating, yes. But learning of Isaac’s undercover status? And he was giving me shit for breaking a promise?
Stomping down that hall, I swung a left then a right. If I’d discovered this information last year, I would have—
Done nothing.
More muttered curses seethed out of me. I would’ve done nothing to Isaac, but I probably would’ve disappeared, taking my stockpile of cash with me. Even before Diane and I decided to give things a try, even last year, maybe even for the past several years, my loyalty to Razor and Romeo, to my brothers, to this place, it had worn threadbare.
We’d always operated outside of the law, absolutely, and I had no problem with that. But evil is evil, and the more prevalent it had become from members other than just Razor, the less I gave a shit about the Iron Wraiths.
Turning the last corner, I yanked off my gloves and stuffed them in the jacket pocket, pausing when I found my office door cracked a sliver. In no mood for bullshit, I pushed it open, prepared to lay into whoever had deigned to enter without permission, but stopped short at the sight of a blond head, sitting in one of the chairs facing my desk, his back to me.
Isaac.
I shut the door behind me, locked it, and didn’t bother pulling off my jacket. I doubted we’d be here for long.
“What do you want?” I asked, rounding the desk.
He met my glare, held it, and said like he was the one giving orders, “She needs to leave. As soon as possible, she needs to leave.”
“I don’t accept that. We’re going to prove her innocence.” Diane didn’t want to leave. I wanted whatever she wanted, and I would make it happen.
“Repo . . .” Isaac leaned forward in the chair, his movements meticulous and purposeful, like a predator.
I couldn’t believe how blind I’d been. This kid was no brother; he was no biker. He was too polished, too schooled and proper and way too fucking smart. How had I not seen this before now?
“She can’t stay,” he said. “They’re going to do everything they can to pin this murder on her. They think she’s guilty.”
“How can you know?” Standing behind the desk, I crossed my arms. “Who is your contact?” His contact was someone with the feds, I’d bet my left arm on it.
“I can’t tell you.” He gave his head a subtle shake. “But I can tell you they plan to arrest my sister—Jenn—if they can’t gather enough evidence to arrest my mother.”
“Why would they do that?”
“To put pressure on my mother to confess. I can’t figure out who Elena’s accomplice is. She must’ve had someone there to help her.”
Narrowing my eyes, I examined him. “But you have a theory? You think you know who the accomplice is?”
His frown intensified. “If Elena came to me, it serves to reason she also went to Jenn and made the same offer. But I know now it wasn’t Jenn, and Jenn has no idea what really happened that night. The will is scheduled to be read and my contact also said—"
“Wait, let me guess.” Walking around the big piece of furniture, I came to stand directly in front of him, leaned back on the desk, and dropped my voice to a rough, slow whisper. “Is your contact the DEA? Or is it the FBI?”
Isaac didn’t even flinch. He just sighed, looking tired. “How long have you known?”
“Doesn’t matter. All that matters is Diane. Why do they think she’s guilty?”
“The fingerprints on the car and her story. They can’t prove it yet, but when they find a way to lift her prints, they’ll know it was her who opened my father’s car door after he died. And they know you went to see her yesterday. They know.”
“What—” Now I flinched. “What do you mean they know?” How could they know? I’d been so careful.
“It’s what they were waiting for. They know you’re involved. They had a tip last week about the two of you. You, uh, you helped her with Mr. Miller? At the Piggly Wiggly?”
“Shit.” I closed my eyes briefly, absorbing this information.
“Someone saw you. Someone saw you step in and defend her, and then they saw you talking, and that someone went to the sheriff and now they think you helped her kill Kip.”
My brain on fire, I turned away from Diane’s son and faced my desk. All this clutter, all this mess. It looked like garbage to me. Everything looked like worthless trash. In one swipe, I cleared the desk. A bottle of booze and several empty glasses hit the wall, shattering upon impact. It didn’t make me feel any better.
“Repo—shit!” Isaac stood and moved to the side of the desk, his hands up. “Listen to me—you have to calm down. Destroying your office isn’t going to do any good. Think. They’re after you. That’s why the feds are here.”
I spun in a circle, grabbing my head. “Then I’ll turn myself in to the FBI, give them whatever they want.”
“No. She’ll still go down for murder. Like I said, they think she’s guilty.”
“How do you—”
“Because I know. One of my friends warned me. They’ll keep her in jail as a way to hold leverage over you, forcing you to testify and bring this whole place down.”
“One of your friends?” I got in his face. “And these are the people you work for.”
Cool as ice, he said, “There’s a critical piece of missing evidence.”
“The gun.”
“Yeah, the gun. If we could find that with Elena’s fingerprints, then we could exonerate my mother. But all the evidence right now points to Diane.”
“Not even your testimony? You were there, you saw Elena do it. Tell them.”
His voice lowered to a barely-there whisper. “My testimony is shit and it doesn’t get her out of jail, it only blows my cover.”
“Then blow your fucking cover.”
“I’m her son.” He gestured to himself with both hands. “No one is going to believe me. She goes to jail, and I go to jail as her accomplice, and they still use her as leverage over you.”
“You are an officer of the law, and you’re telling me they’re not going to believe you?”
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve lied before. They know I’ve lied, it’s all on my record, but they don’t know why. I’m on very thin ice right now.”
I inspected him. “What did you lie about?”
“It’s not important. My point is, I am not the pristine witness my mother needs me to be. They won’t believe me, and I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t believe me either. The feds might need me in place with the Wraiths for now, but they sure as hell don’t trust me. And if I blow my cover to testify for my mother—and thereby working counter to their case against you—I will be cut loose to fend for myself.”