Page 114 of Rags's Awakening
“Go ahead and take a seat,” one of the badges said.
Kimber slipped into one of the chairs, but Rags just leaned back against the wall, his left leg bent and boot braced against it.
“What happened here?” the chubbier badge asked, looking at Rags.
Rags met his stare, his face devoid of emotion.
“My husband was at a party and was horsing around and being a bit… well, stupid, you know? Guys get like that. It’s all that testosterone,” Kimber said, voice steady, eyes unwavering.
“Is that what happened?” the thinner badge asked, pointing at Rags.
“Yeah.”
“You wanna give us more details?”
“Not much to give. Like his ol’ lady said, he was doing stupid shit and here he is.” Rags shrugged. “It happens.”
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with what went down in the Peaks warehouse district, would it?”
Rags scrunched his face. “The Peaks? The party was at our clubhouse.”
“Are you saying you don’t know what happened tonight at another motorcycle gang’s club?” the chubby one said, animosity lacing his voice.
“Don’t have a clue what you’re talkin’ about.” Rags resumed his impassive expression.
“Do you have any other questions?” Kimber sighed. “I want to get back to my husband.”
“Do you know anything about the biker gang who call themselves the Devil’s Reign?” the heavyset badge said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I need to get back to my husband.”
Turning to Rags, the deputy said, “Didn’t it fuckin’ piss you and your gang off that another biker gang was wearing the Colorado bottom rocker?”
“They were? Fuckin’ news to me. Myclub’sbusy planning fundraisers and running our businesses in the community.”
Both badges stared at him, but he held their gaze until the chubby one looked back down at his tablet.
“We know the Insurgents were involved with the shit that went down at that clubhouse,” the lean badge with the crew cut said.
Rags didn’t say a word. He just kept staring.
“We got all kinds of evidence. We’re going to nail your asses,” he said, a smirk curving his lips.
“What do you have to say about that?” the chubby one asked.
“Nothing. We weren’t there. If you think you got proof, then let us know.” He pushed off the wall. “We’re done here.”
“You smug sonofabitch,” Crew Cut said. “You think ’cause yourgang’sgot the sheriff wrapped around your fuckin’ fingers that you’re immune to paying for what you did tonight?” Red blotches flared across his cheeks.
“I don’t think anything,” Rags said.
“You think you’re so fuckin’ cool, don’t you? You’re nothin’ but a dirty, loser outlaw misfit.” Crew Cut leapt to his feet.
“Calm down,” the chubby badge said to his partner.
“Don’t think you’re cool ’cause you can intimidate half the population by violence, illegal shit, and not givin’ a fuck about anything decent. You’re nothin’ but a damn lowlife.”
Rags stood, his stare still locked on the badges, but inside, a battle raged. The urge to beat the shit out of Crew Cut was intense, but he shoved it down, not a flicker of emotion showing on his stoic face.
