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Zero Apologies (Lost Kings MC #14)
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From USA Today bestselling author Autumn Jones Lake comes the sizzling conclusion to Zero and Lilly’s story.
One by one, the lies have been unraveled.
Zero Apologies is part three of Zero and Lilly’s trilogy and book #14 in the Lost Kings MC® series. It is meant to be read after Zero Tolerance and Zero Regret.
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Suffocating is the only way to describe what waking up in a jail cell feels like. The smell. The noise. The lack of privacy. Every bit of it might as well be a hand around my neck choking the fuck out of me.
How is it that the exact moment when the pieces of my life seem to be falling together, something plows right into it, sending everything spiraling out of control?
Murphy groans above me, slowly sitting up and dangling his legs over the edge of the top bunk and jumping down. “You get any sleep?”
“How am I supposed to sleep here?”
He blinks and ignores my foul mood. “You need to be sharp when they question you.”
Cops had already questioned me well into the night. I hadn’t said a word. Much to their irritation.
I played the part of stubborn asshole well.
Today, I’ll take a different approach.
“Frazier, let’s go.” One of the guards taps the bars and unlocks the door. “Don’t give me any shit,” he warns.
I hold out my hands so he can cuff me and barely resist mocking him for acting like a scared little girl. What am I going to do, beat him to death with my jail-issued canvas slip-on sneaker?
I’m still furious about the whole situation, but I padlock those emotions down tight. Once the police have you on their radar, this sort of shit happens all the time. Yet one more reason Rock and I have worked so hard to forge good relationships with law enforcement in our territory whenever possible.
I’m brought into an interrogation room not much different than the one where I spent most of last night. The guard guides me to a hard metal chair. I plop down and stretch my legs out in front of me.
The officer who steps inside had arrived last night after I’d been handcuffed. Plainclothes. Older. Quiet. Thoughtful. Bad sign? Probably.
Another officer steps inside and stands against the back wall.
Hard to tell which one is in charge.
“Who was the woman with you at the clubhouse last night?” the officer seated in front of me asks almost too casually.
Strange way to open up the conversation. Shit. I hadn’t expected them to give Lilly a second thought.
I absolutely cannot afford to have her dragged into any of this. I squint and scratch my chin as if I’ve never seen a woman in my life.
“The one with your kid,” he prompts. “That was your kid, right?”
The mention of Chance is a blade through my guts. His screams as I was handcuffed in the parking lot echoed in my head all night long. “Anything is possible.” It takes everything I have to give him a cocky smirk. “You never know.”
“Hot piece for a random baby momma,” the one holding up the wall says. “Real nice juicy ass on that one.”
The immediate rush of anger spikes my blood pressure. Under the table, I clasp my hands tighter. The comment was meant to piss me off so I’d do or say something stupid. But I’m too old and have lived through too much to ever give them the satisfaction.
I shrug again.
He’s a persistent asshole. “She got a name?”
“Not that I remember. You know how it is.”
“Whores willing to fuck your low-life ass because you’re a ‘bad boy’. Yeah. Women are stupid that way.”
I swallow down my rage and sit up. “Don’t sound so bitter, man. Thought cops had badge bunnies willing to ride their dicks all the time?”
He groans and I try not to laugh.
I pull a phony sympathetic grin. “Maybe go easier on the donuts and they’ll come flocking to you.”
Might have gone one too far there.
The officer in front of me scowls and flips through a small notepad in front of him. “Let’s move on,” he says, signaling to his buddy that fucking around time is over.
I guess this one’s in charge.
The questions he fires off are all over the place, but he keeps circling back to the night Malone’s burned down. More specifically, where was I when the match was lit?
That’s a relief.
I have to be careful here. Anything I say will just be used against me later. Or they’ll leverage it to push for more information. Either from me or from Murphy when he gets pulled in here later. I need to be strategic in what bread crumbs I drop. Only say things that will lead the cops where I want them to go. It’s not easy on zero sleep.
Flashing my I’m-seriously-trying-to-help-you-here face, I rest my hands on the table. The handcuffs make a soft scratch-clink as they land on the cheap metal. “I really don’t remember where I was that night. Do you remember where you were some random day a couple weeks ago? Does anyone?”
“Listen,” I continue before he says anything else, “I was either upstate at our clubhouse or the business we run—”