UNDERTAKER Page 23

  “That’s the million dollar question. I’m guessing Undertaker may have an idea.”

  Blood blew out a slow breath, staring at the screen. “I need to go talk to him.”

  AJ interrupted again. “Blood, I’ve got to tell you something.”

  He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “Can it wait, AJ?”

  “No. This is important. I found something.”

  That had him dropping his hand, his focus sharpening. “What?”

  She took out her phone, scrolled through it, and turned it to face him.

  Blood’s eyes dropped from hers to the screen. He studied the shot, AJ in bed with Undertaker. They were laughing. It looked like Undertaker had his arm out taking the shot with the phone. They looked happy. He wasn’t sure why the fuck she’d show him this, so his eyes flicked up to her. “And?”

  “The date stamp on the photo file says 6:45 a.m. This proves he’s innocent. I was in bed with him, here, in his room at the clubhouse when the fire happened. There’s no way he could have been at the clinic at the time they say.”

  Blood’s eyes moved over the top of her head to Bug for confirmation about the timestamp.

  He shook his head. “They’ll say it was manipulated.” Bug held his hand out. “Let me see it.”

  She passed it over.

  He studied it while she and Blood exchanged a worried glance.

  “Wait a minute. This will work.”

  “How?” Blood asked.

  Bug turned the screen. “Look closer. What’s on the television in the background? That’s CNN with a live report about the President landing on Air Force One when he attended that Trade summit in London.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  Bug spun back to his laptop and his fingers flew over the keyboard as he pulled up the news reports. He leaned closer and read the report. “Yep, right here. Says he landed at 12:45 p.m. London time. That’s 6:45 a.m. our time.” He spun to face them. “The picture proves absolutely he was with AJ here. The Women’s Center is at least twenty minutes away. For the DA to put him at the scene, they’re gonna have a problem trying to make that timeline work.”

  Blood’s eyes cut to AJ. “You realize this photo would become public? It would be all over the media—you in bed with the president of a local MC. Have you thought this through?”

  Her chin came up. “I don’t care. When they see this, they’ll have to drop the charges.”

  “Wouldn’t go that far. They may still go to trial. They’ve been after us for a long time. Having charges on the President?” He shook his head. “That’s a bone they won’t be so quick to let go off.”

  Her shoulders dropped, and her eyes glassed over. “Blood, I have to do something. I can’t let him go back to prison. It’ll destroy him.”

  “And this will destroy your career. Think this through, AJ. You ready to sacrifice that much?”

  She nodded, on the verge of breaking down. “I have to, Blood. I love him. You have to take me to see him. I need to tell him that.”

  Blood drew her into his arms, knowing he had to take her, but also knowing he had to tell Undertaker what she was planning. And there was no way in hell his President was going to let her do this, not when she had so much to lose. “All right, babe. We’ll go see him together. Think we both got some stuff to tell him.”

  ***

  AJ stood a few feet away from where Blood sat talking to Undertaker through the glass window, the telephone receiver to his ear. They talked in hushed whispers through the phone, but she could still make out a little of what was said, especially when their voices were raised. Undertaker looked pissed that she was there. They talked some more, and then something Blood said to him had Undertaker’s eyes flicking over to her, and he looked really pissed off.

  “You realize if she does that, it will destroy her career, her charity, everything. But if she doesn’t, you go to prison.” Blood stared at Undertaker through the glass.

  “I’m taking the rap. I’ll let them put me in prison before I let her be crucified in the press. She’ll lose everything. Everything. I can’t be responsible for that. No way.”

  “Boss—”

  “No.”

  “Then you tell her.”

  Blood stood from the stainless steel stool that was attached to the floor and held the phone receiver out to her.

  She looked from him to Undertaker, took the phone and sat. They stared at each other through the security glass. His eyes softened slightly as they moved over her face.

  She took him in. He looked tired, and she inanely wondered, of all things, if he was eating. She had a million things she wanted to say and suddenly she was mute.

  He was the first to speak.

  “You shouldn’t have come.”

  The coldness in his voice broke her words free. “Don’t say that. Of course I had to come. I love you.”

  It was the first time she’d said the words to him, and it had to be here of all places. Why had she waited to say those three simple words?

  He didn’t say it back, and she felt a knife in her heart. Instead he bit out, “I know what you’re planning, and I can’t let you do it. You’ll be sacrificing too much.”

  “But I love you.”

  This time he couldn’t stop himself from repeating it back, but it sounded torn from his soul. “I love you, too. That’s why I can’t let you do it.”

  She got angry, and it made her react, spilling her news in a way she hadn’t planned. “I don’t want our baby to grow up with a father in prison.”

  At least it had the effect of shaking him from his emotionless distance. His eyes widened. “What?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  He put his head in his hand. “Jesus Christ. It’s happening all over again.”

  “Derek…” When he didn’t look up, she banged her palm on the glass. “Look at me, damn it!”

  His hand dropped from his face, and his eyes flicked up to her.

  Tears were running down her cheeks now, but she didn’t care. “I know what you’re thinking. You think I’m going to leave you, that the baby and I will disappear. That’s not going to happen. I’m… we’re going to be here through all of it, every step of the way. I won’t give up on us, you hear me? And I won’t let you give up on us, either.”

  “I lost at this game before, AJ.”

  “It’s not a game.”

  “No, it’s not. Take a good look, babe. Look where I am. You don’t want this life. You don’t want me.”

  “Don’t you dare try to tell me what I want! I lost at my last chance at happiness. I’m not losing this time. I’m not giving up on us, and I’m not letting you give up on us, either, damn it. Now tell me you love me.”

  He gave her a small smile, his eyes soft with love. “I love you, Allie.”

  She put her hand on the glass, and he placed his palm on the other side. “This is all a big mistake. We’re going to make it to the other side of this, Derek, and I’m going to be here waiting for you, I swear,” her soft voice assured him, trying to will her strength through the glass to him, but he saw the tears trailing down her face.

  “Don’t cry, baby. I can take anything but that. I need you strong.”

  She wiped the tears away and nodded. “Okay. I’ll be strong. I promise.”

  “You believe even when I give you nothing to believe in. Take care of my baby.”

  She nodded again. “Always.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you more.”

  He shook his head. “Not possible.”

  The guard came in the door behind him. “Time’s up.”

  He stood, the receiver still to his ear for every last second he could stall.

  She stood, too, keeping her hand pressed to the glass. “I love you. I’m going to get you out of here. You understand?” she pleaded.

  He hung the receiver up, his palm slipping from the glass as his eyes moved over her head to Blood. He lifted his chin toward him, indicating he should g
et her out of there. Then he winked at her and turned. She watched him move out through the door, her eyes on the words on the back of his orange jumpsuit.

  Inmate

  St. Tammany Parish Jail

  ***

  The cell door slammed behind Undertaker, and he moved to the bottom bunk of the last of the row of eight metal beds. He sat on the thin mattress, his feet on the floor, elbows on his knees, hands folded, and his head down.

  The guy in the next bunk was stretched out on his back. He barely gave Undertaker a glance. Most of the men in here had heard who he was and had steered clear of him. Hell, it only took one guy to notice his club tattoos and the word spread around the big lockup unit.

  None of that was on his mind now, though. There was only one thought burning in his brain, one sentence repeating itself over and over in his head like a mantra.

  AJ is pregnant.

  He rubbed his palms slowly back and forth, staring at the cement floor. It all felt like déjà vu, like he’d been here before. Maybe not this lockup or this parish, but he’d been in this position before—facing a long prison sentence with a woman and child on the outside swearing to wait for him, swearing they loved him.

  How the hell had he let this happen again? And he wasn’t thinking about the baby; he knew how that happened. The baby—that he was happy about, scared maybe, but happy. No, what he was so pissed off about was the fact that he’d always swore he’d never go back to prison. Going back to The Farm, back to those damn fields, starting that shit all over again? No way. He couldn’t do it. Since the day he’d walked free, this had been his biggest fear.

  He’d known when he was released that he’d held the outcome in his hands. Hell, Allison herself had laid that all out for him the first day he met her at that community center all those years ago.

  The majority of inmates paroled end up back in prison, she’d told him. And he’d known she was right. But the die had already been cast, his fate set—and he’d ended up in the President’s chair. Perhaps he’d been backed into a corner, pressured into taking that gavel, but take it he had, and that, in the end, had been his decision. He owned that. And he’d known the club was involved in shit that might eventually land him right back here. He’d been willing to accept the risk, despite his fear.

  But things had changed. There was so much more to lose now.

  He shook his head at the irony of the timing of this. All these years, all these goddamned years of never finding love again, only to find it now, to finally have everything he wanted, and have it all yanked away.

  He wanted to rail at God. He wanted to grab the cell bars in his fists and shake them, to roar out his wrath at the top of his lungs. But he couldn’t. He sat there, rubbing his palms together and silently counting in his head, trying to slow his racing heart and bring his rage under control.

  A smile tugged at his mouth as he thought of the woman who had taught him that technique all those years ago. Allison. She was everything to him. And now they were having a child. Her words drifted through his brain as if she were in the cell with him, whispering them in his ear, giving him strength.

  I lost my last chance at happiness. I’m not losing this time. I’m not giving up on us, and I’m not letting you give up on us, either, damn it. Now tell me you love me.

  “I love you, Allie,” he mouthed the words in a barely audible whisper. “And I’ll love our child.”

  She wanted this baby, his baby—a baby she’d been denied the last time around. How could he do anything but fight for her, fight for them, and fight for their child?

  He drew in a deep breath. He’d get out of here, and when he did, they’d be waiting for him. He had to believe that. He had to let go of the past and all its loss and be open to this new love, this new future. He had to let love in again and trust in it.

  This time would be different.

  This time he wasn’t letting love slip through his hands.

  This time he wasn’t letting her slip through his hands.

  He closed his eyes and murmured the words of a promise he meant with every fiber of his being. “I’m done with loss, and I vow to you, Allie, this time we aren’t going to lose again.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  AJ was over at Bella’s, the two of them cooking dinner. Bella banged a wooden spoon on the skillet and glanced up when Amy came in the door.

  “You’re late. Dinner’s almost ready.”

  “Did you hear it yet?”

  AJ frowned, noting how frantic Amy’s voice sounded. “Hear what?”

  Amy ran past them into the adjoining family room and grabbed up the remote, aiming it at the flat screen. She flicked to the local evening news.

  The girls followed her in.

  “What is it? Did something happen?” Bella asked.

  “AJ happened. It’s all over the news.”

  “We go now to Stephanie Hart who’s standing by live with a report on this.”

  “Thank you, Bill. We’ve been following a story out of Slidell that has some new developments. The President of a local motorcycle club, arrested several days ago on arson charges, may be released as early as tomorrow, Channel 5 News has learned. The arson took place at the New Horizon Women’s Center earlier this month. According to court and police sources, Derek Deschaine, who was arraigned two days ago will have all charges dropped. This all stems from the discovery of new evidence and a Dr. Allison Jane Carter stepping forward as an alibi. We obtained the following photograph of the two of them, which indicates there seems to be some type of relationship between Dr. Carter, the owner of New Horizons and Deschaine, who is the Evil Dead Motorcycle Club’s President and has been for fifteen years. The photograph we’re about to show you may not be suitable for all audiences. Please use parental discretion.”

  “Parental discretion?” AJ stuttered out. “Why are they even showing it?”

  “Shock value and ratings,” Bella said. “Pure sensationalism.”

  The picture flashed on the screen.

  “Oh my God. They blurred me out from the shoulders down. I look like I’m naked. I wasn’t naked. I was covered.”

  “AJ it’s not that bad…” Bella insisted.

  “Stephanie, do we know anything more about this woman?”

  “Yes, Bill. Ms. Carter is the daughter of John Ross Banks, a successful attorney who has billboards all over the state. Ms. Carter has also worked as a respected psychologist whose testimony in regard to victims of assault and abuse has been sought after in many trials.

  The nature of their relationship remains unclear and what, if anything, it has to do with the suspicious fire at Dr. Carter’s Center. The waters get muddier every day on this one, Bill. Back to you…”

  “Please turn it off,” AJ bit out.

  “Well, there goes your career,” Bella said sadly.

  The girls gathered her in a group hug.

  “You did what you had to do,” Kelsey told her. “Anyone who knows you knows you’re a good person.”

  “I need Derek. Why is it taking so long for him to be released?” AJ wiped the tears from her face. She was upset about how she was being characterized in the media, but the part that sounded over and over in her head was that Undertaker might be released tomorrow! As sad as the rest of it made her, she was ecstatic over that part.

  Amy put her arm around her and tried to cheer her up. “This will all blow over. You’ll be in the news for five minutes, then they’ll move on.”

  AJ nodded. “I have a call to make. I have to find out if it’s true. He might get out tomorrow.”

  Amy and Bella exchanged a look, but AJ didn’t have time to argue her case. This was good news; she wished they could be happy for her.

  She went into the other room and called Blood’s cell phone.

  “Yeah?” His voice sounded tired.

  She started in without preamble. “The reports say he might get out of jail tomorrow, Blood. Is it true?”

  “We’re waiting for him to be relea
sed. It takes time.”

  “You’ll let me know when you hear something?”

  “I promise I’ll call you the minute he’s out. Hell, woman, he’ll probably grab the phone from me and call you himself.”

  She had to smile at that vision in her head. “I hope so. There are things I need to say.”

  “More than the bomb you dropped on him the last time?”

  “You know? He told you?”

  “He’s pretty happy about it. So, yeah, he told me.” She could hear the smile in Blood’s voice.

  “I’m glad. I was afraid…”

  “I know, babe. But you don’t have to worry. He wants that baby as much as you do. I gotta go. You still at your friend’s house?”

  “Bella’s. Yes.”

  “Where’s it at? He’ll probably want to come straight to you.”

  “375 Oakton. Blue house.”

  “All right, darlin’. Talk to ya soon.”

  ***

  Delilah sat nervously on the loveseat as Ronnie sat in the recliner and Donnie lounged on the sofa, both of the brothers half drunk, having worked their way through a case of beer.

  The flat screen on the wall had just wrapped up an LSU game. She cringed when the news came on, and the leading story was about that biker and his girlfriend and the fire Ronnie and his brother had set. If it hadn’t been the lead story, Ronnie probably would have switched over to Wheel of Fortune by now to see his secret crush, Vanna White. Then he wouldn’t have found out—at least not for a few more days—that the biker was being released.

  But he’d seen it, and he reacted just like she knew he would.

  Ronnie threw his beer bottle at the wall and practically vaulted out of the recliner, screaming at the television screen. “Goddamn it. All that work, all that trouble we went to, all the time and effort, and he walks scot-free! I can’t fucking believe this.” He paced around the room. “Maybe I need to burn his fucking clubhouse down this time.”

  “I’m tired of burning shit down,” Donnie groused from the couch, lazily drinking his still-full bottle. “You need to come up with a new plan. Maybe he don’t give a shit about this girl. Maybe she’s just an alibi and a fuckin’ lay. Judgin’ by that picture, probably all she is.”