Page 7 of Fallen Rider


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Chapter Two

The police turnup a few minutes later. They come in full riot gear, armed officers exploding into the common room like ants swarming a nest.

I gasp as a gun is pointed in my face before it swings in another direction. I may have grown up surrounded by bikers, but I’ve lived a sheltered life, thanks to my brothers. I’ve seen a gun before, but never one that size, and I’ve never had one shoved in my face.

I grip my sister’s hand as the room fills with more armed police, sweat gathering at the nape of my neck. The Club is no stranger to dealing with the law, but they don’t usually invade the inner sanctum, although raids have happened in the past.

The doors are shoved open and I glance towards them as Weed is dragged in by an officer. Chloe shifts near me as he’s pushed face first onto the floor and he makes a grunt of pain, the injuries from his beating no doubt flaring as he’s manhandled.

It’s too much for Chloe to take. She comes to her feet, spitting out, “Don’t! He’s hurt!”

Beth and Chloe’s little brother, Jesse, grabs her arm, stopping her from flying at the officer, who is glaring at Chloe like she’s shit under his shoe.

“Didn’t know you let the bitches talk.” Laughter goes around the room at the officer’s crude attempt at humour.

I slam my teeth together, trying to keep my own temper in check. Bitches? Seriously?

“Watch your mouth,” Weed grinds out from the floor. “That’s my old lady you’re insulting.”

“Someone married you, Williams?”

“Well, your mum was busy.”

I wince. He just can’t help smarting off.

Weed gets a kick to the ribs for his words, but his smile is smug even as he holds his chest, gasping a little for breath.

Beth manages to get Chloe back into her seat, and I see Weed’s relief as he notices this. She pulls the younger woman against her and says something in her ear that I can’t hear, but Chloe seems to calm a little, although her eyes never leave Weed’s face.

“I’m surprised this lot got here so fast,” Jamie murmurs. “You don’t usually see them for dust when anything is going down.”

She’s not wrong. Kingsley Police Force are not exactly a team of crack detectives. They’re mostly middle-aged, lazy and corrupt.

There’s a few who aren’t, like Holly’s friend, Nate James. Liv trusts him to help with things at the shelter she works at, but I wouldn’t trust him outside of that.

And then there’s Detective Chief Inspector Alexander Morgan. He’s a transfer into the area, and he seems determined to bring down the Club. This means I’m not surprised when he steps into the room, his eyes appraising every inch like he owns the space.

His gaze stops on Weed pressed to the floor and his lip curls into a snarl.

“Let him up.”

The officer reluctantly takes his foot off Weed’s back. Weed takes his time climbing to his feet, and makes a show of dusting off his jeans and kutte. I suspect he does this not just for effect, but also because his healing injuries won’t allow him to go faster.

“That was some grade A police brutality right there,” Weed mutters as he straightens his kutte.

Morgan doesn’t seem to care about this. He drops his hands to his hips, rucking the jacket of his suit up—a suit that looks tailor-made to fit. This is a contrast to his thatch of messy brown hair and the way his tie knot isn’t fully pushed up to the collar.

“We had reports of gunshots.”

I keep my face as impassive as I can manage, trying not to give anything away. I may not be a brother, but I know the rules. You don’t talk to the police—ever. I’d never betray my family by breaking that rule.

Weed shrugs. “Nope, all quiet here.”

Lies and spinning them is something we’re all adept at. I’d lie my heart out to protect my family. I don’t trust the police. They want to see my family brought low and while I have breath in my body, I’ll never let that happen. I may find my brothers’ interference in my life annoying, but I’m loyal to them without fault.

“I’m not sure where you’re getting your info from,” Weed continues, “but you might want to find a new source.”

Morgan twitches and I can see the irritation mounting in him. I watch his fists clench and unclench at his side.

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