Free Damned: Seven Tribesmen MC by Evelyn Glass

rolled her eyes as the man's grin took on a lecherous curve.
     
    “Was it related to the 7T?” She pressed on with her questions. The longer the interrogation, the more information she'd get out of him. Hopefully.
     
    “Look, lady, you know Bishop isn't going to let drugs run through Grand River. We were just asking our brothers to keep an eye out for anything and give us a head's up. That's all I'm going to say.”
     
    Stella pursed her lips, putting a slight edge to her tone, “You're obstructing an investigation, Mr. Halloway.”
     
    “And you're questioning me without my lawyer present.” The man spoke slowly, pointedly. His glare had tripled in heat. Shoving his chair away from the table, Halloway set his jaw and crossed his arms again. “I won't say another fuckin' word 'til my lawyer gets here.”
     
    Stella's jaw clenched and an ache raced along her cheek. Irritation stewed in her gut as she flipped through her mental files for another tactic. Halloway wouldn't talk; she knew that. Most people, once they wised up – or clamped their mouth shut – wouldn't reopen it again for an officer or agent of the law.
     
    A flicker of movement caught her eye near the doorway. Stan stood there, waiting for Stella to exit. Turning back to Halloway, the woman mentally deflated. He still glared at her with fiery blue eyes, lips screwed tightly shut. The man was ornery and obstinate. She was lucky to get any words out of him to begin with. With a nod of her head and a scripted farewell, Stella gathered her papers and marched to the door.
     
    In the hallway, Stan immediately began walking. Judging from his soured expression, he fared no better than Stella. She followed him, and once they rounded the corner, Stan muttered his report, “Williams said he knew nothing of the cocaine. Said they went south to visit some friends and claimed someone had to plant the vials.”
     
    “That's pretty much Halloway's story,” Stella sighed as she shifted her footing. The two were career criminals. It was highly likely they had cobbled a story together before the cops even caught hint of their trail.
     
    “I think we should switch off,” Stan growled. The bruise along his jaw had begun to turn a dark purple with a reddish outline. “I'll take Halloway, you take Williams. We'll say the other told us some interesting stuff. The scumbags would crack.”
     
    “I don't know. Grand River is pretty tight-knit, including the Seven Tribesmen,” whispered Stella, refusing to meet Stan's gaze. She knew what the man would think. She was giving the Seven Tribesmen preferential treatment thanks to a one-night stand. As the man opened his mouth to voice dissent, Stella glanced up, her tone turning icy, “Plus, Halloway is rowdy. I think you had enough bee stings for one day.”
     
    Stan snapped his mouth shut, an indignant flush biting at his cheeks.
     
    “Let them get their lawyers. We got possession, but neither has a record with crack, and no prints have been found on the vials.” Stella shook her head. It wasn't unlikely that the men would get hung out to dry for possession. If they got a good lawyer, the charges could be dropped. If they were innocent, Stella hoped they had the cash for a good lawyer. More to herself than Stan, the woman muttered, “They could have been set-up.”
     
    Regardless, Stan heard her. His expression pinched, and his tone became sharp, “Why are you defending these thugs?”
     
    “Stan,” Stella warned, turning her gaze to the man. He stood stiffly, lips puckered and eyebrows creasing his forehead.
     
    “Come on, Stella! Just the other day you were about ready to bring them all in for rapid fire questioning.” Stan leaned heavily against the wall, his shoulders smacking it loudly. His tone took on a hard, bitter edge, “Ever since the lead monkey took you hom‒”
     
    The loud smack cut Stan off. Stella surprised herself as her hand flew through the air and landed with tingling impact.