Club Justice (18 page)

Kramer smiled. That timeline put the Lord’s favorite firebug smack dab in the middle of the action.

Chapter Twenty-One

Bare-chested and barefoot, Sambo waited silently for his lawyer, grateful he had at least pulled jeans on before answering the door. The local cops had been almost apologetic about dragging him out of G.G.’s bed. Kramer had taken great delight in humiliating them both. The weasel’s sly comments to G.G. still had his blood boiling. Only years of dealing with cops had prevented him from planting a fist in the little piggy’s pie hole.

To her credit, G.G. had stayed cool, not rising to the bait. She had, however, made it clear to the locals that there wasn’t a mark on him when he left her place. Her fierce protectiveness and steady nerves bode well for an ol’ lady. She had promised to call Zeke and the lawyer before following him to the station. That had been over an hour ago, maybe approaching two. The minutes were creeping by. 

The door opened and the lawyer didn’t even make it through before turning to snap at an officer,

“I want the cuffs off him. Where are his clothes?”

“That’s the way he came in.”

The officer’s voice was sullen, but he removed the cuffs under Maloney’s laser stare.

“I want to confer with my client in private.”

“Knock yourself out.”

“Are you okay, Samuel?”

“I’m fine, just glad I yanked jeans on before going to the door,” Sambo muttered, rubbing at his wrists before extending a hand in greeting. “Thanks for coming.”

“You want to tell me why they drug both of us out of bed for a fire that happened over twenty years ago?”

“Twenty years ago?”

“Yeah. Didn’t they tell you anything?”

“My girlfriend has nice tits and to watch my head when they put me in the car.”

“Jesus.” Maloney breathed in disgust. “What do you know about the Kennedy fire?”

“It was ruled accidental.”

“And was it?”

“I can tell you I didn’t set it. Beyond that, I’m not the Fire Marshall.”

“They’ve brought Zeke Brawer and Liam Cormac in for questioning as well. If you know anything, now would be a good time to tell me. With your record, you’re always going to be public enemy number one. If they need a scapegoat you look better than a detective or a local business owner.”

“It was a crazy night. Most of what I know is hearsay.”

“Humor me.”

“Kennedy’s wife was found wandering outside. Her nightgown smelled like gasoline. The local LEOs had swept countless domestic disturbance calls under the carpet. Everyone knew that Kennedy beat his wife. If she finally snapped, she deserved help, not prosecution.”

“Do Brawer and Cormac know this?”

“Lillian is Zeke’s mother-in-law. What do you think?”

“Did Brawer or Cormac have anything to do with setting the fire to your knowledge?”

“No.”

“Do you know who set the fire?”

“No.”

“If you did, would you tell me?”

Sambo winked at his weary attorney.

“No.”

G.G. stared at the ornate doors of the Lord’s meeting room. After nearly six hours of sitting at the police station, the three couples had retired to the clubhouse. The men had been behind closed doors since. Not even the murmur of voices penetrated the heavy wood. At least they didn’t use the old bank vault. The thought made the corner of her lips quirk. She started as Ginny set a steaming mug of cappuccino next to her.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, honey. We might as well get comfortable. They could be a while,” Ginny said motioning to the sitting area with a tilt of her head. Amber slid from her stool as well and the three women adjourned to the circle of couches and chairs.

“Is this one of those club matters where I’m supposed to just look the other way and pretend I’m not curious or worried?” G.G. asked softly.

Ginny sighed, sharing a look with Amber before she answered.

“Not really. This has more to do with Zeke and I’s past than with the club. But, one thing that you will learn if you stick around long enough is that what is one almost always ends up being both. They don’t use the term brother lightly or as some sort of biker lingo. They mean it. They’re family. What affects one, affects them all.”

“They say you can’t choose your family, but I guess you guys have in a way.”

Ginny nodded at G.G.’s comment, her gaze far away.

“Sometimes the chosen ones are the dearest and Lord knows they’ve proven to be more true.”

“I agree. Blood doesn’t always mean squat. My sperm donor used to show up every six months or so with a sob story, get rich quick scheme, or just a bit of sweet-talking to earn him a couple hot meals and a roll in the hay. I saw through his lies and cheap gifts early on. The sad thing is my mom never did,” G.G. said with a shrug.

“My mom spent over twenty years refusing to accept who and what my father was and truthfully I’m not sure she ever really came to terms with it. What you need to know is, Sambo didn’t start the fire that killed my father; my mother did. The police reports are going to say that it was an accident, a gas leak. Frankly, it was an election year and it wouldn’t have looked good in court if it had come out how many times they responded to a domestic disturbance call only to stand on the front porch and shoot the shit with my father while I cleaned my mom up.” 

The bitterness in Ginny’s voice tore at G.G.’s heart. Any relief she felt at Samuel’s innocence was lost.

“I’m sorry. If not for your loss, then for your pain,” she said, hesitantly reaching to offer the older woman’s hand a consoling squeeze.

“Thanks. Sambo’s got himself a good one in you. Now let’s see if he can manage not to screw it up.”

“She’s still here after last night. It’s a start,” Amber said with a wink.

“Thanks. I think,” G.G. said with a playful grimace. “So, this all happened twenty years ago, why bring it up now?”

“That’s a whole other story. In a nutshell, Zeke is a detective for the Cleveland PD and he has his very own hemorrhoid in their Internal Affairs department. Kramer has had a hard-on for Zeke since the academy and since joining Internal Affairs, he hasn’t stopped trying to screw him.”

“I do hope we are talking figuratively here.”

Ginny barked with laughter at G.G.’s quip.

“God I hope so. Zeke is so alpha male that would just be the last straw.”

“Nothing about Kramer surprises me anymore. I’m stunned you haven’t met him before last night. Now that he knows you’re sleeping with Sambo I’m sure you will be seeing a lot of him. He might be gunning for Zeke, but he has finally figured out Zeke’s clean so he’s taking stabs in the dark at everyone around him,” Amber said, standing and taking the empty mugs.

“I have to get the store opened up,” G.G. groaned glancing at her watch. “It’s been real, it’s been fun, but I can’t say as it’s been real fun, ladies.”

“Aw, come on. Who else would you want to hang out in a police station with?” Ginny protested around a yawn.

“You got me there. If Kat had been there it would’ve been a party.”

“Kat, Amber and I have sat in many a police station and emergency room together. We are glad to include you in the club.” 

“The honors mine. Let Samuel know where I went, huh?” G.G. asked, giving the girls a quick hug before heading out the door.

Ginny’s head lolled back on the couch to watch her go and then she smiled.

“It sounds so sweet when she calls him Samuel, like those rare occasions you call Big Red, Liam.”

“He’s usually only Liam when he’s in deep shit.” Amber giggled. “I wonder why they never gave Zeke a nickname.”

Ginny’s eyes opened and narrowed in thought.

“I’ve never thought about that before. Zeke and Rhys are the only two without a nickname.”

“Reaper doesn’t really count. It is just his last name.”

“Oh, but it’s really so much more than his last name. It’s his whole persona,” Ginny argued, eyes drifting shut again.

“Hmm sometimes they call Rhys, Kid or Pretty Boy, but other than the occasional Prez, Z, or Sarge, I haven’t heard one for Zeke.”

“I’ll have to ask him,” Ginny mumbled around a yawn. “Other than pet names like Big Man, or Stud…I just call him Zeke.”

“Inquiring minds want to know.”   

“Well, they’re just going to have to wait until I get some beauty sleep.”

“Amen to that,” Amber said pulling a couple throw blankets out of the large storage chest that served as a coffee table. Tossing one to Ginny, she blew a kiss. “Sleep tight, my queen.”

Samuel looked sheepish, but oh so sexy, as he came through the door a deli bag in hand.

“I come bearing roast beef and provolone on onion rolls and the tomato mozzarella salad you like,” He said, holding the bag out in a peace offering.

“Well, in that case, come on in.”

He looked relieved as he dropped a kiss on her lips and sprawled into a chair in the store’s cozy conversation nook.

“I’m really sorry about last night.”

G.G. waved it away, reaching for the food.

“I get it. The girls gave me a little history lesson and we’re cool.” Her eyes drifted closed as she savored a bite of fresh tomatoes, onion, and mozzarella. “Besides, there’s little this doesn’t make up for.”

“I was holding back the best part as a last resort,” he said pulling two triangles of cheesecake out of the bag with a devilish grin.

“Mmm, you may need to get hauled in for questioning more often if this is going to be the way you make it up to me.”

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m a man. Either way, I will screw up again.” 

Ginny woke to Zeke stroking her hair. For a couple minutes she kept her eyes closed, just enjoying the warmth and comfort of his touch. The past months had been tense with little chance to relax and let her guard down. It was draining. She had hoped with Zeke’s reinstatement and Kramer’s reprimand it would end. Last night’s ploy smelled of desperation on Kramer’s part. A desperate man was dangerous. What had her mother told him?

“I know you’re awake, beautiful. How about we head home?”  

“What time is it?”

“Almost two.”

“I don’t even have anything laid out for dinner,” she sighed.

“Sounds like a pizza night then. You’re tired. Let’s go home and take a quick nap, then we’ll order half a dozen pies and some garlic bread for dinner.”

Ginny nodded, stifling a yawn. Folding the blanket, she tucked it away and stretched, holding out her hands for Zeke to help her off the couch. Preceding him out of the clubhouse, she turned back as he was checking the door and tossed him the keys to her Charger. His brow arched in question, but looking at her weary face, he stepped over and opened the passenger door for her without a word.  

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Nice work, Doc,” Zeke rumbled surveying the neat stitches along his ribcage.

“I was top of my class in needle point,” the Doctor said with a smile. “You’re all set, Detective. Looking at your file, and scar tissue, I don’t think I need to go over how to care for stitches with you.”

Zeke snorted in amusement, but sobered as he spotted Donovan striding down the hall. Their Captain paused in front of Zeke’s inept partner for the day, opened his mouth, and then just shook his head in disgust and snatched the duffle bag from the kid.

“What do we got, Doctor?” he asked, stepping into the room.

“It looks to have been a relatively short blade. Fortunately it glanced off a rib, not doing any real damage. It took thirty-six stitches to put your detective back together again, but he, and his impressive ink work, will be fine.”

“Thank you, Doctor. We appreciate it.”

“My pleasure,” she said flashing a smile back at Zeke. “Try to stay out of trouble, Detective.”

“I’m afraid it has a way of finding me,” Zeke replied with a cocksure grin.

“Isn’t that the truth,” Donovan grumbled, smacking his burly detective in the chest with his duffle bag. “Put some clothes on and start talking.”

Sliding off the table, Zeke fished in his duffle for a clean shirt while he filled Donovan in on the incident.

“And by the way, that input I have in who my new partner is going to be … not him.”

Donovan grimaced at the blunt comment but couldn’t argue it. How in the hell did a cop make it to detective without learning how to properly pat down a suspect? The last couple of years had decimated their ranks. Death or retirement had claimed the department’s experience, leaving behind one of the youngest forces in the country. Today they could’ve lost another, over a stupid mistake. Built like a bull or not, Brawer had gotten lucky. No, he couldn’t argue Zeke’s assessment of today’s fiasco or the question he had asked a couple months back, who among these new detectives could he trust to protect his back?

“Have you called Ginny yet?”

“Why worry her. She will see it tonight when I’m standing safe and sound in front of her.”

“I suppose you’re right. What kind of meds did they give you? If you want we can get someone to drive you home.”

“Jesus, Mom, I’m a big boy. I think I got it.” 

“You don’t have to get shitty,” Donovan snapped, his face coloring a bit.

“It’s not my first rodeo, Cap. I’ll be fine.”

Keeping a tight rein on her patience, Ginny surreptitiously rubbed at her temple as she dusted her mother’s prize collection of dainty glass shoes. The afternoon with her mother had been tense to say the least. There had been little chit-chat while they ran errands, the conversation in the grocery store reduced to brand name and quantity, and lunch picked at in silence. Any mention of Zeke’s name was met with hostility. Ginny just wanted to shake her. The idea that Zeke was in any way responsible for Trent’s death was ludicrous and the fact that Lillian was so willing to accept the word of a lying rat bastard over her son-in-law galled Ginny to no end. Zeke had never been anything but good to her mother and he had loved Trent like a brother. The buzzers and bells of
The Price is Right
making her head pound, she stood and picked up her purse.