Page 93 of Declan's Dove

We left the hospital in different vehicles and were sent to different parts of the precinct for booking. Pres and the guys followed on their bikes and have been working on getting our lawyer down here to get me bailed out.

Mike Bowman, a deputy here in Oakridge, and a friend to the club, has been in to update me periodically on what’s going on. He’s close friends with Jinx’s dad, who’s a retired sheriff. He was sheriff when Caleb was the president of the club. Their families go way back.

I’m sitting in lock-up, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what they’re doing to Violet and what we can do to help get her out, when I hear Mike’s voice call my name.

“Hey, O’Malley.”

I stand up and walk to the bars to talk to him with a little more privacy. As much privacy as one can get in a drunk tank with three other men awaiting their own fate with a judge.

“What did you find out?” I ask.

“The kid’s been taken to a transitional foster care home. It’s where they place them on a 24-72 hour hold until they can reach next of kin or find a more permanent foster care facility for him. Violet is being held under various charges of child neglect, fraud, and kidnapping.”

“Kidnapping? How the fuck do they figure that? She’s his mother, for shit’s sake.” I’m pissed, and a little panicked. Those are some serious fucking charges, and I don’t know how the club will go about helping get them dropped.

“Apparently, she faked her and the kid’s death, claimed this insurance money, and then left with the kid. The husband thought they were both dead, so the charges have escalated. He’s on his way into town now to see about getting the kid since he’s next of kin,” Mike explains.

“Listen to me, Mike.” I grab his shirt through the bars. “You can’t let him get to Carter. He’s the one who’s been abusing them all this time. If he finds him, he will hurt Carter, maybe even kill him. He’s a sick fuck. I can’t tell you everything, not here, but I need you to get word to my brothers. They need to get to Carter!” I whisper-shout. I’m not one to fear most things, but the idea of that fucker getting ahold of our boy, with all the sick, twisted things I now know about his sexual preferences and what he does to women and children, terrifies me. “I need another favor.”

“I can try.”

“I need you to get ahold of Kayce Eaton. Hawk will know how to reach him. Tell him what’s happened. About Violet and Carter. He can help.”

At least I hope he can.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Violet

I don’t know how long I’ve been locked up down here. It may be hours, feels like days. My mind is a nonstop carousel of images of the things that have happened or could happen to Carter while I’m trapped behind bars. I’ve cried so many tears, I can’t cry any more.

The sound of the lock disengaging and the door opening has me sitting up. I don’t trust any of these people now that I know Mrs. Cortez is working with James. They could all be dirty for all I know. What I know for certain is not one of them has tried to help me or sought to help Carter. He’s all I really care about.

And Declan.

Though I feel guilty he’s been locked up because of my situation, I can’t help but think he’s faring better than me. Declan isn’t afraid of anything. Nothing seems to truly rattle him. He’s always so brave and strong. He doesn’t back down to anyone. I’d be lying if I said watching him break Paul’s nose didn’t give me some sort of sick satisfaction. After all his stupid accusations, everything he’s done—I almost wish Declan had done more than just given him a broken nose.

“Miss Dupree.” I’d know that velvety smooth voice anywhere.

Vincenzo.

The man himself, dressed in a dark gray three-piece suit and patent leather shoes, is standing right in front of me, looking just as smooth and handsome as ever. It’s true what they say, the Devil is a beautiful man.

“Vin—Mr. Parisi. What are you doing here?” I stutter, not knowing how to respond given our current company. I don’t need the officer knowing Vincenzo and I are familiar with each other.

“It’s time for you to go home, Miss Dupree.” Vincenzo’s talking to me, but his raised brow and tense tone are directed at the guard who skitters over to unlock the cell. He opens the door, and I walk out, completely dumbfounded. I half expect to be stopped and told I’m being punked before we make it out to the car, but it never happens. The joke never comes.

Everyone watches warily as we pass. Vincenzo doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he doesn’t care that everyone is staring at us so intensely. He isn’t fazed in the slightest. It’s as if he knows they can’t touch him. Or they won’t.

Once we get to his waiting SUV, he opens the door, and I slide in. Vincenzo follows. Once the vehicle begins to move, I hit him with a borage of questions.

“How did you do this? Where’s my son? How’s Declan? What about Kayce? Where is he? I called him but I didn’t get an answer. What the fuck is going on?” The last one leaves me on a high pitch screech.

With his hand on my knee, he gives it a light squeeze, then says, “Calm yourself, Violet. I’ll answer everything, but first you need to calm down.”

I take a few deep breaths, not feeling the slight bit calmer, but I lie and tell him, “I’m calm.”

His smirk lets me know he sees through my bullshit.

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