"You're the mark, Eric Northman," Dennis Rattray spat out. "You're the fuckin' reason we went to Louisiana. If it ain't for you we'd still be in Dallas."
Deputy Jones lunged forward, her mask of indifference had already vanished. "You were hired to kill him?"
"Fuck no! We ain't no killers. Told ya t'was an accident," Dennis Rattray defended himself. "You were s'pposed to check in that nasty French motel, the plan was to roofie you, scatter a few Oxy in the room make it look like you were trippin' then get your stuff and bolt."
Sharp needles started to prick Eric's spine as he listened to the mugger's story. He had clearly underestimated just how elaborate the plan was to take him down.
"We waited in your room for hours. When you didn't show, Mac and I decided to do a little snoopin', thought maybe you got lost or somethin'. We got lucky when we found you in that nightclub, Fantasia. We weren't sure it was you so we paid one of the hookers to eavesdrop on you and your buddy in the bar. She said the bartender told her t'was Eric. What're the odds there's more than one Eric Northman in that shithole. So after you decked that fucker with the stupid 'stash and dashed, we followed you."
"How did you know that the guy you saw at the bar was Eric? Did the person who hired you give you description?" Office Jones interjected.
Dennis nodded. "Bitch gave us Mister Northman's full name and description – blond, six-two, blue eyes, stinks of money."
"I need a name, D," the deputy followed-up.
"I don't know her name."
Eric almost blurted: Was it Sandy Seachrest? Fortunately, he was able stop himself from engaging in a twisted game of Jeopardy.
"How did you know her then?" Eric asked.
Dennis looked apprehensive as he peered nervously at Deputy Jones. "I want immunity first."
"You're in no position to make demands," the officer refuted. "In case you haven't noticed, you've already given us enough information to put you in the slammer for a long time. All you can do right now is cooperate and convince us not to throw your ass in the Farm."
Dennis blanched at the threat, the tattoo on his neck rattled as he swallowed thickly.
"Okay, okay." He expelled air through his nose. "Mac and I met her last year in Dallas. We heard there was a rich people summit in one of the hotels."
Eric remembered the summit Dennis was talking about. It was the annual oil convention. He and his core team had been attending the conference for the past couple of years to network, find prospective clients and expand their rolodex.
"We were shakin' up this old fart in the parkin' lot when the bitch came at us with a gun. Mac and I nearly shat in our pants. She was gonna call the cops but the old guy stopped her and offered us a deal instead."
"What kind of deal?" Eric asked.
"A partnership," Dennis said with a shrug. "He said he could get us in - even gave us a list of guests whose pockets were easier to pick. In return, we'd give 'em half of what we make. Of course, we agreed, we're not idiots. Damn, we made a killin' that day. Even with the cut, we made enough to get the Ratmobile." The mugger couldn't help but sneer, which quickly vanished as soon as he saw Deputy Jones arch her brow.
Dennis dropped his gaze and cleared his throat nervously.
"Keep goin'," the officer insisted with a wave of a hand.
"We met her in a bar downtown the next day to split the profit."
Sam, who had been quiet the entire time, butted in. "Wait- you named your RV the Ratmobile?"
The mugger scowled at Sam. "It's fuckin' clever."
"Whatever rocks your boat," Sam drawled.
"Go on, Dennis," Deputy Jones butted in seriously, skewering Sam with a silencing glare.
"That's it. We gave 'em their cut and called it a day."
"Then how was she able to contact you?" Eric prodded.
Dennis lowered his eyes to his shackles as he mumbled, "I… um… gave her my number."
"You gave her your number?" Deputy Jones asked incredulously.
"Hey, I thought we had a connection. 'Sides s'not every day you get to meet a chick who appreciates what we do. Hell, I got a stiffy when I recognized the bitch's voice tellin' us she got a job for us. One time, big time, she said. We just need to roofie some Richie Rich douchebag. Simple grab and dash. That's it. We could keep everythin' we find. All she wanted was the iPad and iPhone." Dennis fisted his hands. "Should've known t'was too good to be true."
"Simple grab and dash?" Deputy Jones scowled. "You call druggin' somebody simple?"
"T'wasn't like we we're gonna rape him."
"Shut up, you buffoon, before I commit police brutality."
"Does she have my tablet and phone now?" Eric interjected.
"Maybe. We mailed it to a P.O. box in Brooklyn three days ago when we were in Nola."
"How much did she pay you?" Eric asked. He wanted to know the currency for souls these days.
"She didn't," Dennis grumbled. "Bitch ripped us off."
Sam snickered out loud. "Guess there really ain't no honor among thieves."
"Maybe she thought what you snatched from Mister Northman would even out the score," Deputy Jones interpolated.
Dennis scoffed. "For that much work? You said it yourself, it ain't that simple."
"You said yourself, ma'am. See the badge?" Deputy Jones jabbed her finger at the six-pointed star on her shoulder.
"Sorry, ma'am," Dennis said, adequately scolded.
"Is that why you didn't spend the money?" she asked.
"We wanted to. Then we heard an old buddy got busted in Nola for using stolen Benjamins."
"So you decided to sell the watch instead?" the officer theorized.
"We weren't gonna sell it. We just wanna have it appraised. Y'know, get the sticker price for..."
"Black-market fence," Eric chimed in, making Dennis flush.
Eric twisted his torso to face Sam. "Can I borrow your phone?"
"Yeah, 'course. Why?" Sam dug inside his pocket and handed Eric his smartphone. It wasn't the most up-to-date iPhone model but it would do the job.
Eric directed his attention back to Dennis. "Will you be able to identify the woman?"
"I dunno," Dennis mumbled.
Eric gave Dennis a hard stare. The mugger turned beet red. Eric diverted his gaze to the phone screen and began typing furiously. It didn't take long before he found what he was searching for. Pam's vanity had finally paid off. His friend was a notorious selfie addict. Even though her Facebook account was set on private, her Instagram wasn't. He scrolled through his best friend's photos until he landed on a specific image. He tapped it with his index finger to enlarge it and showed it to Dennis.
"Is she here?" he asked, pointing out to the picture posted last year when he threw Pam a surprise birthday party in his house in the Hamptons. He had invited most of the administrative staff including, yes, Sandy and Felipe.
It was a group photo – which included him, Felipe, Sandy, Miriam and of course, Pam - where everyone was more than a little tipsy to smile broadly at the camera. Sylvie was in Los Angeles at the time, attending a wine tasting in Napa Valley.
Dennis made a quick peek at the screen before he shook his head. "Too small, can't see the face."
Officer Jones stepped in and extended her hand to Eric. "I can print a larger image."
Eric gave the phone to the deputy. Sam flinched, looking as though he was about to object.
"Don't worry Sammy, I won't go snoopin' for scandalous pictures," the officer quipped before she strolled out, the wicked grin on her face said otherwise.
"What's in it for me?" Dennis blurted as soon as the deputy was out of the room.
Eric cocked his brow. "Aside from the chance to restore my faith in humanity?"
"Fuck humanity. I want immunity." Dennis straightened his back. "Convince your deputy friend that what happened in Dallas would stay in Dallas."
Eric smirked as he let out a snort. "You want a deal?"
"'Course I wanna deal! I gave you everythin' you want."
"Not everything. Not yet."
"Then I guess I'm done. I won't be flappin' my tongue 'nymore unless you cut me and my brother a deal. No jail time, minimum fine and not a word on Dallas."
Eric steepled his fingers. "Do you know what the word 'intent' means? It makes a world of difference in legal terms. The fact that you admitted that you were in my motel room with the clear intention of incapacitating me in order to rob me already lumps you in the same category as murderers."
"We weren't gonna off you!"
"Are you sure? Who's to say the drugs you were going to inject me with wasn't of a lethal dose? What if I happened to be allergic to that particular cocktail? Not only that, you hunted me down. Followed me from Fantasia and stabbed me in the gut. If the people who rescued me hadn't intervened you would've finished me off right there and then."
The mugger opened his mouth to rebut but Eric didn't give him a chance.
"You've already confessed to a series of crimes. So, congratulations, D, you and your brother are no longer petty thieves."
"You said you wouldn't press charges if I cooperate."
"That was before I found out I was a mark."
Dennis's chest deflated, his hands trembling through his cuffs. "I'm not helpin' you no more," he muttered lowly.
"Suit yourself. We can always ask your brother instead."
"Mac won't throw me under the bus."
"You sure about that? Because if my recollection is correct, you were the one who had the knife. Given the option of spending hard time or walking away with minimum fine, are you a hundred percent certain Mac wouldn't sell you out?"
Dennis's left eye twitched. "No wonder people are out to get you," he spat.
Eric leaned in, hands flat on the table. "Do you know who I am, D?" his tone was thick with menace. "I am Eric fucking Northman. Would you like to Google it?"
"I know who you are."
Eric smirked. "Do you know why the people who hired you were working so damn hard to get me out of the picture? Because I'm that big of a threat. Make no mistake, D, I will find them – with or without your help. I will raise seven hells to take back what is mine. And when I do, do you really want to be the idiot who gets caught in that crossfire?"
Dennis's trembled as he stared at Eric before his Adam's apple moved up and down.
As though Eric had timed it perfectly, Deputy Jones waltzed in the interrogation room with the enlarged group photo. She sprawled it on top of the table and took a step back.
"There, can you see it now?" she asked, arms folded in her chest.
"Ye-yes," Dennis croaked.
"And?" The officer waved her hand in a 'spit it out' gesture.
"This one," the mugger stabbed his finger at the other male on the photo and added, "that's the guy in Dallas."
"His name's Felipe De Castro," Eric supplied as the deputy circled Felipe's head with a red sharpie, before writing down his name on her notepad. "And the woman also known as 'the bitch'?"
Sam chortled again then blushed when Deputy Jones gave him a sideway glance.
Eric ignored the subtle flirtation as he watched Dennis lean forward, head bent lower, squinting his eyes. Eric was surprised Dennis took longer to identify Sandy since she was the only brunette in the group.
Finally, Dennis jabbed his finger at the paper one more time. "That one. That's the bitch."
Eric's eyes widened as he swallowed hard. "Are you sure?"
"Sure I'm sure. That's the bitch who screwed us over."
For the first time since Eric walked in the interrogation he felt cold beads of sweat prickling the back of his neck. He blinked fast before zooming in on the face of the woman Dennis was pointing at.
Eric flicked his eyes on Dennis then back at the picture.
"She ain't a blonde when I met her though," the mugger added.
That's when Eric knew Dennis was telling the truth. Because the woman Dennis had identified was a natural brunette. She had only dyed her hair blonde two months ago – after she moved in with Pam.
A/N: I don't own Eric or TB.
Here's the continuation of Eric's road trip. Let me know what you think. Thank you so much for continuing to support this story.
Love, love, love!
Big hugs to MsStitcher who never ceases to be awesome. All mistakes are mine.