ough for the ABT to risk a gang war. Instead, they saw the opportunity to pin the murder on someone completely outside that world.
This theory also explained why the ABT didn’t try to get to Rebel while she was in jail. They had no reason to want her dead; they wanted to ensure she was the one to take the fall for the murder. The fact that we were working to exonerate her might put her in more danger than she already was. However, that wouldn’t stop me from proceeding. It only meant that her level of protection had to be high and airtight.
“Did the two of you discuss my cover?”
“Colonel in the Aryan Nation.”
Another thing that made sense. The Aryan brotherhoods were local entities, reporting to the bigger organization—the Nation. They used rank in the same way the military did, with captains, majors, colonels, and generals. The highest rank at any state chapter, like at the ABT, would be a major.
“Someone higher up is pissed about the hit on Possum?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Did Rile find out if the agency still has someone inside the AN?”
Grinder smiled. “Smoke, and he’s been briefed.”
I smiled too. Broderick “Smoke” Torcher was the kind of intelligence agent I’d always aspired to be. No offense to my brother or any of the other men on the Invincibles team, but Smoke was a warrior, a renegade, and a bloody genius. Out of anyone I’d ever worked with, or even known of in the field of intelligence, Smoke was born to go undercover in a world as potentially deadly as the Aryan Nation.
“Incoming.” Grinder motioned out the front window. “He brought them in dark,” he added, laughing as he walked to the garage to open the door.
I shook my head at Rile’s chosen mode of transport. Somehow he’d gotten his hands on a flower delivery van.
“Casper, it’s good to see you,” I said as she came inside, rubbing her arms.
“The damn van was refrigerated in the back. And it’s good to see you too, Edge.” We exchanged cheek-kisses before I turned to Kick and shook his hand. I wished I could say I felt better after having met him, but it was the opposite. The bad feeling I had, intensified.
A few minutes later, Decker pulled up.
“He doesn’t look happy,” commented Grinder.
“How can you tell?” It seemed to me that the man always had a scowl on his face.
“He’s been happier lately. Since he and Mila got married.” Grinder motioned toward the road. “This is unexpected, though.”
I turned back to see what Grinder was referring to and was as surprised as he to see the sheriff pull in behind Deck. “Did you know about this?” I asked Rile.
“Yes.” He brushed his finger over his lower lip.
I walked over to the table where he was seated and pulled out the chair next to him. “What’s he doing here?”
“He received an anonymous tip about the gun.”
My eyes met Grinder’s. “Where is it?”
“Bloody hell,” seethed Rile. “Don’t tell me you wankers have done something with it.”
“I gave it to Mac to run ballistics.”
No one said another word until Decker walked in with Mac.
“Ballistics confirmed that the gun found in Rebel’s trunk is the one that killed Possum,” said Mac after we’d said hello and made introductions.
“Doesn’t prove anything,” I muttered, immediately feeling foolish for having done so, particularly when Rile glared at me.
“No, it doesn’t,” said Mac. “And it hasn’t been admitted into evidence yet either.”
It was one of the things I liked best about Texas, especially outside of the bigger cities. The sheriff had a hell of a lot more say in how stuff like guns were and weren’t logged in.