Hot Mess (An Iron Tornadoes MC Romance Book 5) Read Online Free PDF

something else I need to do.
    Something more productive for my investigation.
    Something less pleasant, but then again, less frustrating than watching this luscious siren.

    * * *

8
    B ack in Kristal's room with a flashlight, I pull out the papers from her bag. I should have thought about doing that earlier. I toss the content of the plastic folder on the bed. The first thing that catches my eye is an envelope bearing the name of a detention facility down south. The stamp reveals it was sent to Kristal a week ago at a Manhattan address.
    Why would she be getting mail from the prison administration? I look in the envelope and pull out a four-page hand written letter as well as a copy of a mug shot.
    The man in the picture is in his fifties. Salt and pepper unkempt hair and a dirty beard. He sports a split lip and two magnificent shiners giving him a battered raccoon look. On the back of the picture there's a number and a name. John F Russel.
    He's too old to be her brother. Her dad?
    I unfold the paper and decipher the content. The letters are wide and poorly formed. Almost a childish handwriting with absurd flourishes in the weirdest places. The spelling is atrocious.
    The content puzzles me.
    It's a plea addressed to Kristal begging her to do "everything they axe" otherwise he's a "gonor." He blames Kristal's mother for keeping them apart all those years. There's promises of eternal love for a daughter he misses so much ... blah, blah, blah ... ranting against the system which got him unfairly convicted ... blah, blah, blah ... she's his only hope.
    The message is clear: in substance, she owes him and she needs to make good on her debt.
    From my dispassionate point of view, it's obvious his logic is flawed. So much that I can't figure out why Kristal should now feel responsible for the man. She seems like a normally intelligent woman, someone smart enough not to fall for such a lousy trap. How could it possibly be her fault if her dad had a craptastic life? Yet, there's no doubt she felt guilty enough to drive from New York to try to save him.
    The possessive part of me is happy the man she wants to save is her father while the protective part wants to shake some sense into her. I'm ready to bet my mother's house that when I look up John F Russel's file, I will not feel one ounce of compassion for the man. I will want to congratulate Kristal's mother for running as far as she could from him and never letting him know where she had gone. She most likely knew better than to expect any form of assistance or child support.
    I put the letter and the picture back and quickly go through the rest of the papers. There's bank statements and stubs. She's cashed all her savings to buy a car and drive down here to meet her deadbeat dad. What a waste.
    Now the real question is what he needs saving from.
    My guess is that he's beyond saving.
    Clearly she's being set up.
    Her and the Knights.
    I know for a fact that the members of the Category 5 Knights MC are into dealing drugs, but not the type of drugs that Kristal was walking around with.
    We found out a few weeks ago about the Knights’ network. They import prescription meds from Canada and Mexico.
    Of course, it's illegal. There's no denying that, but for now, we're looking the other way. Why? 'Cause they don't bring in anything that can be used recreationally, and we don't have enough manpower as it is to address all the urgent issues we need to address.
    So unless someone's grandmother is found dead from an overdose of anti-bone loss medication, the Knights’ trafficking will not become a priority. For now, we won't do anything about it.
    Yep, as long as the Knights keep flying under the radar, their business is pretty safe from local police interference.
    Returning Kristal's stuff to her backpack and retreating from her room, I wonder why anyone would want to set up the Knights.
    The only explanation I can come up with is that they are stepping on someone's toes. Another group