Hell's Angel: Devil's Backbone (BK 2)

Brownie Points

Alison's POV
(bellamysgirl)

I sighed, lifting my head off the table as I heard the door open. Mahoney stepped into the small square room with coffee and some papers. "We're almost done," he assured. He sat the coffee down in front of me and I took it as he sat. "Just wanna go over your statement one more time. You're sure you didn't see anything unusual outside your Café?"

I took a sip from the coffee and nodded. "Not that I remember."

"And you're sure you didn't see Castle?" he questioned, lightly.

"Like I said three times already, I didn't see anything. Bullets started flying and I hid behind the couch," I said, looking at him tiredly. "I didn't see anything."

He nodded. "Smart. Powell, I think we're done here. Bring your car around." The officer at the door turned and left the room, the door falling shut behind him. I took a longer drink of the coffee, let the hot liquid burn its way down my throat, then sat back. Mahoney closed his file and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You alright?" I asked.

"It's been a long night," he answered.

"What are you doing to find Frank?" I asked, curiously.

"You mean besides plastering his face over every TV station and news paper?" he looked up at me, eyebrows raised. "The DA and the medical examiner are dead, the same idiot takes a shot at you—and so far nobody in this entire city has seen a thing." He gave me a look, slightly leaning forward. He knew I was lying about what happened. He was just waiting for me to spill.

I stared back at him with a plain expression, my eyes not moving as I brought the coffee cup up to my lips to take a drink. He sighed heavily and sat back. "We'll get him," he said, moving on. "I'm just glad you decided to take police protection."

I nodded a little, putting the cup down. "Yeah...me, too." When, in reality, I was only doing this because Frank wanted me to. He wanted me safe. If this is what it takes, so be it. Mahoney stood. "Powell and Reid will escort you to a safe location," he explained, and I got up from my chair. "We'll keep someone posted outside twenty-four seven."

He opened the door to the room and stopped, turning to me. "If you remember anything- and I mean anything, Fletcher. You come find me," he said, surely. I nodded once, firmly, and I walked past him through the door. The two officers lead the way outside the building. It was a bit nippy so I zipped up my jacket as we started down the sidewalk toward the cruiser waiting for us. "Alison." I looked up from my jacket.

Matt stood beside a taxi cab next to the sidewalk, looking my way. "Um, he's a friend," I told the officers. "Just give me a minute?" They nodded and continued to the car, just a couple feet away. I walked over to Matt and stood a foot from him, crossing my arms. "Why are you here?" I asked, trying to act neutral.

"Brett reached out; he said someone shot at you? Why didn't you call me?" he asked, concerned.

I laughed humorlessly, stepping back. "You really want me to answer that question?"

"This isn't a joke, Alison," he shook his head.

"You don't think I know that?" I shot back, raising my voice just a little. "Matt, I don't need you right now, okay? I can take care of myself."

He scoffed. "Obviously not."

"You weren't there for me when I needed you—now is not the time to try and make up for that," I argued, firmly. He sighed heavily and looked around, obviously trying to calm himself. If I wanted to I could rip into him right now, but I don't have time for that. He turned back to me. "Alison, if Frank wants you dead then, yeah, you need a lot more help than a couple cops," he reasoned.