Crossroads: Book 1

Chapter 2

Mike

If this detective knew what was good for him, he'd let his obsession with Marcus go. However, being in a profession where he doesn't get paid for just letting things go, he continues to push me.

"I know you have worked with him. I know you have contacted him. Where is he?" Detective Cochran demands while I roll my eyes. His voice sounds tired like he's lost a lot of sleep over the last few days. Narrowing my eyes, I stare at him. It's always best to not say much - if anything at all.

After a few uncomfortable moments, he adds, "What would your mother think about you working for him? Carol, is it?" He grins smugly, waiting for my reaction.

A low rumble escapes deep within my chest; if I could, I would leap across and smack his head into this overly glossy aluminum table. It could use a few dents.

"Carol Gilbert," the detective sighs. "I haven't seen her in what – eighteen years?" he thinks out loud to himself while stroking his goatee.

Wait. What?

"What are you talking about?" I feel the blood burn in my veins. How did this prick know her? How come I have never heard the words Detective Elijah Cochran come out of her mouth before? I screw my eyes shut for a moment, processing this new information. It's pissing me off. As my eyes dart back open, my nails dig into the palms of my hands.

His features soften, gathering that I am confused. Speaking quieter, he tells me, "I went to school with your mom. I was also good friends with your dad - Jack. Before he disappeared, he asked me to keep tabs on you at one point, to make sure you'd turn out okay."

My breathing begins to quicken as his brows shoot up. He opens the folder to reveal all twelve speeding tickets from this year alone- all overdue, of course. He takes out jail records from my high school days to now, a copy of my damn high school graduation diploma from nearly six years ago, photos of the side of my face or the back of my head in illegal gun and moonshine deals; he even has my old damn report cards.

"I guess I let him down," Detective Cochran chuckles half-heartedly. I remain quiet, not believing this guy. There's no way he knows my mom or my old man. No way. He's lying.

"Look." He has the audacity to continue while leaning into the table, "Whether you want to believe me or not, I knew them." He pauses to lift the sleeve of his arm to reveal a tattoo. My brows furrow as I sit up straighter. It's not just any tattoo; I've seen this one on my own shitty father. The detective lifts his arm to me - on his right forearm, the tattoo is faded black. It's a shape of a skull with two pistons as a set of bones crossed in front of it, revealing the colors of my old man's motorcycle club – the Outlaws.

What the...

His voice lowers even more while his head ducks down to meet my gaze. I still can't take my sights away from burning into the man's tattoo. "I was his VP, Red. Trust me when I say that I knew him."

This man. This... pigtail of a detective was my dad's vice president? Can't be. My dad has told me stories of that man: Cobra, they called him. He liked to constrict his victims to death, something about being a part of how their souls left their bodies by literally draining them of air. This guy in front of me – I can't see him doing that.

My father told me once why Cobra had to leave the MC and Georgia. Something about a pregnant woman...Lilly? I remember the name. It's been trapped in the back of my mind for years.

Is Lilly the woman that this man ran after? Whose child was she pregnant with? Where is Lilly now? Where the hell is my father?

"I know you're not a bad person, and all this s**t that you've done in your past is just that. The past." The detective leans back in his chair. "You are loyal to your men, and I know they are loyal to you and your Devil Henchmen MC." He nods his head once. "It takes a damn good leader for men like that to have respect for you at your young age. Since I knew your father, the Reaper, I know I can trust you." His shoulders square up. "I know you're a good man despite all you've done." He taps the table with two fingers near my folder. "You've gotten yourself into some deep s**t, nearly ending the life of a cop. I want to offer you a deal." My eyes narrow as he says, "I could use your help, Red."

I scan his face; his forehead is beading with the slightest glistening of sweat. I can tell his pulse is in overdrive. Sincerity is written on his faintly worried face. Eyes are laced with honesty and hope; his hands are trembling subtly over my file.

He's telling the truth. Looking down at my bloodstained hands, I figure a deal is probably a good thing. Paul has to be a part of this. I need to make sure that he'll be okay; my brothers and I need to get something out of this too. Sitting up, I lean over the table, causing the cuffs to clink. "What kind of deal?"