Last Mile - Page 73/82

Of course the ATF made me think of Samantha, which caused my traitorous heart to ache. I never imagined a woman could wound me so deep, but she did. All the time we had spent together had been a lie. She was a fucking fed working me for a case. I had heard of women playing men before, but I never thought I would be one of the sad saps it happened to. Samantha deserved a fucking Oscar for her acting skills. I had thought she truly cared for me—that we had something special going on. Something like what Rev and Deacon had.

But I was wrong. So fucking wrong. Not only had she screwed me over, but she had screwed over my brothers. Seething anger coiled within me at the reminder of how she acted as though she had cared for them just as she had for me. But she hadn’t. All she had wanted was to keep rising in the ranks in the bureau. I was sure our case would win her a fat promotion. While we rotted away in jail, she would enjoy more money and a higher rank. Just the thought caused my fists to clench at my sides and I longed for a way to lash out.

More than anything, I wished I had my brothers to confide in. From the time of our arrest, Rev, Deacon, and I had been separated. The thought being that we couldn’t easily come up with stories or plea deals if we weren’t a solid unit with our president, vice president, and sergeant at arms. Deacon and Boone had been sent to a jail in another county, while Mac and I remained at the jail where we had originally been brought. As president, Rev was seen as the greatest threat, and he had been put in solitary, away from us.

At the sound of jangling keys, I lowered my gaze from the ceiling to see a guard strolling up to the cell. “Up and at ’em, Malloy.”

“What’s going on?”

“You got a visitor,” the guard replied.

Mac and I exchanged a look. “Mike must have some new information on the case,” I said as I hopped down off the bunk.

“As much as the club is paying him, he better come up with a hell of a lot for us,” Mac grumbled.

Once the guard swung open the door, I stepped outside and followed him out of the cellblock. After we went down a long hallway, he stopped at a room on the right. When I stepped inside, I found it empty except for a table and two chairs. One of the walls had a two-way mirror, and I couldn’t help wondering who was on the other side. After sitting down, I raised my handcuffed fists at the officer. With a shake, I asked, “Aren’t you going to take these off me?”

He shook his head. “Powers that be said they stay on.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What the hell for?”

“You might pose a danger.”

“To my lawyer? That’s fucking unlikely, since I need his happy ass alive to get me out of here.”

After glancing left and right, the guard said in a low voice, “It ain’t your lawyer.”

I leaned back in my chair. “If it isn’t my lawyer, then who the hell is it? This room ain’t for visitors.”

Before the guard could answer, the door blew open. Never in a million years did I expect to see the person who walked into the room.

It was Samantha.

Or at least it was a version of her. It sure as hell wasn’t the woman I had known before. Gone was the Samantha who wore heavy eyeliner, skintight jeans, and cleavage-baring tops. In her place was a steely professional in a black pantsuit. Her long dark hair was swept back in a bun.

When our eyes met, I shot out of my chair. “Get her the fuck out of here!” I spat.

“Bishop, I need to speak to you,” Samantha said in an even tone.

“I ain’t got one thing to say to you but maybe Fuck you. That’s it.”

The guard glanced from me to Samantha. She shook her head. “Leave us.”

“Miss, I don’t—”

Samantha’s dark eyes burned with fury. “And I said leave us!”

He held up his hands. “Fine, then.”

After he had shut the door, Samantha crossed the room to the table. Her heels clicked along the linoleum floor. Without a word, she pulled out the chair across from me. She tossed a giant folder on the table and then sat down.

We stared each other down for a few seconds before Samantha drew in a ragged breath. “Bishop, I—”

“Look at you. The secret agent woman.”

“I’m not a secret agent,” she argued.

“Considering what you were doing to me and my club, you might as well have been a spy. Right?”

“I was there to compile what information I could about the Raiders’ suspected gunrunning with the Rodriguez cartel.”

“You were spying.”

“I was doing my job. The one Gavin and I were sent in there to do.”

“Gavin? I suppose you mean Marley. Yeah, that was a tough pill to swallow, too. Not only was the girl I was falling for playing me, but it turns out my friend was in on it as well.”

A pained look came over Samantha’s face. “He was my best friend, Bishop. He was the one who wanted me to give you a chance. He really did enjoy being around you.”

Her words caused a deeper ache in my chest. “Whatever. It still doesn’t make it right what you did.”

Samantha’s eyes filled with regret. “For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry.”

Man, this girl could act. Bitch. I cocked my eyebrows at her. “You’re sorry? You fucked up my life and the lives of my club brothers and all you can say is you’re sorry.”

“I am very sorry. But the fact is, I didn’t fuck up your life. You and I both know your enemies did that.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is.”