“You always were the voice of reason. It’s why you went Ivy, and I went community.”
The officer chortles, then asks, “What brings you here?”
As quickly as it appeared, Cain’s glee is gone and his face returns to its usual look of indifference.
“Word’s that the Sinners are being accused of being responsible for the repair shop robberies around here. We’re here to talk with Gannon.”
“You know he doesn’t do drop-ins.” Javon’s eyes narrow.
Ire begins to prickle through me, but I force myself to bite my tongue.
The officer’s name patch read J. Pierce, and I began to wonder how long Javon had been an officer. I also began to wonder exactly how long it has been since Cain has stepped foot in his hometown, and what caused him to leave in the first place. The police academy takes several months to get through, and these men act as though they haven’t seen each other for much longer than that.
“He will for me,” Cain insists, and I can see the exact moment Officer Pierce opens his mouth to argue, but is cut off before a single syllable is formulated.
“Begrudgingly, but you’re right. What can I do for you, Cain?”
Heavy footsteps cease as a man, similar in height and stature to Cain, stops in front of him. His stare is intense as he looks at the club president, clearly unhappy to see him. His hair is a honey brown, his eyes a similar shade.
“Came to sort out that rumor of the Sinners having something to do with your town’s robberies.”
I’m not fond of the way the police captain stares at Cain with a look of condescension. My gaze trails over to the metal name badge he wears proudly,G. Gannon, then over to the patches that decorate his jacket.
“I was just on my way out, but I can give you ten,” the captain grunts, then turns on his heel to move down the hall.
Cain nods to us, and we follow wordlessly. Once inside the captain's office, Cain shuts the door as we congregate near the wall. Cain takes a seat in one of the leather chairs, but neither Damon, Nixon, or I take the other.
Captain Gannon folds his hands on top of his desk and narrows his eyes at Cain. “Why are you really here, Cain, and why did you bring your thugs?”
“Now, now, uncle, they don’t appreciate that nickname very much.”
Uncle?
Pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place, the two men’s similarities strikingly obvious now.
“Are they not?” Gannon questions patronizingly.
“No,” Cain huffs. “Listen, I’m here because it’s been brought to my attention that the Sinners are being accused of the robberies, and we both know that’s bullshit. I don’t care about who started the rumor, but I’d like to know why.”
“No charges are being filed against your gang, so I don’t see why it's relevant, nor do I understand why you’re here in my office, wasting my time.”
“We’re a fucking vigilante club. We work alongside the Ridgewood P.D., sowhywould we drive all the way up to Northwood to commit crimes? This feels personal.”
“Well, as you already said, it’s a rumor. Who started it or why doesn’t do much in the way of an investigation.” Gannon leans back in his chair and lets out a deep sigh. He scrubs his hand down his face. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. One of the shops has camera footage of a couple motorcycles speeding off after the robbery. The Sinner’s Warlord is the closest gang around here, so your name got thrown out.”
“Bridge Point ain’t that far past Ridgewood, and their clubisactual criminals,” Damon growls from where he leans against the wall next to a file cabinet.
“Which is exactly why we’re looking into them more,” Gannon snaps at Damon. “The Reaper’s Wings have a laundry list of charges from over the years.”
“You have my club up in arms. We don’t take lightly to our names being dragged, especially when it goes against our core principles.”
“I get it,” Gannon agrees. “At this point, there’s nothing I can do about it, though. We don’t have evidence against the Bridge Point club to release any statements that would get the public’s speculation to change, but as soon as I do, I’ll shift the winds off you guys, alright?”
“Yeah,” Cain says, his voice clipped. “You do that.”
He stands, and Gannon mirrors his movement.
“Your mother know you’re here?” he asks, extending his hand.
