He glanced down at it.
Opened it.
A black-and-white image of Lucky and Bex coming out of a warehouse. There were dark stains of blood on both of them. The next photo showed who the blood belonged to.
The man he’d later learned had abused Bex as a child.
He clenched his fist.
Turned another page.
Brock and Bull leaving the flaming remains of a mansion in New Mexico. The mansion where Amy had been held captive and tortured for a week. The home of one of the most ruthless and notorious criminals in the world.
He turned another page.
A sworn statement from the inmate who had stabbed Jimmy O’Fallhan, saying that Cade Fletcher had ordered the hit.
The same Jimmy O’Fallhan known for raping and murdering women. Brutally. The same Jimmy O’Fallhan who had nearly raped and murdered Gwen. Brutally.
He sucked in a rough breath, slamming the folder shut and pushing back in his chair.
The folder he’d been collecting since the second he got on the force. Waiting. Biding his time for an airtight case. It had been airtight for years now, but something had stopped him from doing anything with it.
The very thought of it felt wrong.
Because of the someone he’d be destroying, completely and utterly, if he did anything with that file.
Rosie.
But not just her.
The lives of all those broken and brutalized women who had been put back together gently and with care by members of one of the most ruthless outlaw motorcycle gangs in the country.
Luke rubbed at his jaw.
He’d be setting flames not to a handful of families, but to whatever chance remained for his future.
For his happiness.
With her.
That thought had him acting without hesitation. The file was flaming in the garbage before he even blinked.
He watched his years of work burn away in seconds.
He’d never felt like he was doing the right thing that whole time. Not really. He’d convinced himself that he was. Made himself think that so he could sleep at night. But this was the only time in all those years that he knew he was doing the right thing.
He wasn’t happy as he watched his misguided and fucked-up form of righteousness burn up in flames. He couldn’t be happy knowing that Rosie was somewhere hurting, nursing both physical and emotional wounds alone.
No way he could be happy with that knowledge.
But something settled inside him as the smoke dissipated and the flames started to disappear, revealing only ashes.
Something like satisfaction.
Maybe relief.
The door to his office swung open, rattling on its hinges.
“What the fuck have you done to her?” Cade bellowed, fists clenched at his sides as he stormed into the room, murderous eyes glancing around to make sure Rosie wasn’t hiding behind the file cabinet. Satisfied she wasn’t, the grim and hot fury of Cade’s glare settled somewhere it was quite familiar with—Luke.
One of Luke’s deputies scurried in behind him, hand on the butt of her gun, face flushed with uncertainty. “I’m sorry, Luke, but he didn’t stop,” she said, eyes darting to Cade like she expected him to shoot up the place at any moment.
Luke stood. “It’s okay, Lara,” he said calmly, eyes on Cade.
She swallowed, hand still at her gun. “Are you sure?”
Luke nodded tightly. “You can shut the door on your way out.”
The quiet click of the door behind Lara seemed to echo in the loaded silence that she left behind. Though it didn’t stay silent for long.
Cade stalked the remaining distance to Luke’s desk, slamming his palms down on it, knocking off case files and framed pictures.
He didn’t even blink at them.
Likely he would’ve if it’d been the Sons of Templar case file tossed open. If that case file wasn’t now ashes that he’d never recognize being the end of his entire family, his entire life.
Not that Luke would ever educate him, or anyone, on that. He wasn’t that much of an asshole. He was also ashamed of himself, not for making that file in the first place—he was a stupid kid who thought he had something to prove at the beginning. No, after, when he began to know better. Began to realize just how deep his feelings for Rosie ran. How deep they’d always ran. When he knew that using that file would hurt her beyond comprehension.
So it wasn’t all selflessness that had him swearing to himself that he’d never utter a word about that file. It was the opposite, actually.
Cade’s murderous face demanded his attention even more ferociously than his demons did.
“You have ten seconds, Crawford,” Cade bit out, “to tell me what the fuck you did to her and where the fuck she is. After that ten seconds, if I’m not satisfied, and I suspect I won’t be, I’m going to start smashin’ shit.” His fists clenched. “And I’m going to start with your face.”
This wasn’t an empty threat, Luke knew. Normally, with the club going legit and Cade having his family to worry about, even Cade wouldn’t assault the sheriff in the middle of a police station for anything but the most extreme of circumstances.
His sister, his love for her, and the thought of something threatening her, were considered by Cade as the most extreme of circumstances. Luke didn’t doubt that Cade would put a bullet in his brain right here and now if it meant that Rosie wasn’t hurt for another day in her life.
Which was why, among many other reasons, Luke didn’t say shit about the fact that Cade was threatening a police officer.
“I don’t know where she is,” Luke said instead.
Cade’s façade flickered for a moment at his response, but he recovered quickly. “Like fuck,” he spat. “Got witnesses that place your fuckin’ cruiser right outside her house all fuckin’ night two days ago,” Cade seethed. “Two days ago, when she disappeared without a fuckin’ trace.”
Luke sat forward in his chair, suddenly choked with fear. “You mean she didn’t say anything to anyone? Just left?” he demanded. He’d been haunted for the past two nights, sleepless. The only reason he hadn’t torn apart the country looking for her was because he assumed she’d left of her own free will. As much as Luke hated it, she could take care of herself, better than most men could take care of her.
Especially him, or the man he’d been in the past.
But Luke knew how much she treasured her family, knew she’d never put them through the pain and worry that they’d be feeling to just disappear without a trace. She was far too fucking selfless for that. She’d cut her own hand off to spare anyone in that club a second of pain.
Cade didn’t reply immediately, only stared at him.
Luke’s own anger, fueled by fear and worry, erupted at that moment, and he pushed out of his chair so hard it clattered to the floor. “Tell me!” he roared. “Did you or did you fuckin’ not hear from her that she was goin’ somewhere?”
The fury in his voice almost scared Luke. It didn’t scare Cade—the man lived in the face of fury every day—though it did surprise him. Luke could see that.
Cade didn’t answer immediately. Luke knew it was a power play, and fuck if it didn’t make every square inch of his skin crawl letting the asshole have it.
“Yeah, she called me, left a message. Texted Gwen.”