by Siobhan Muir
“Denver, actually, but I didn’t want to go anywhere close to the city. I wanted to go somewhere new.” He nodded to my cut. “Are you really a member of a motorcycle club?”
“No, I just wear this leather cut because it looks cool.”
For a moment, his expression froze in the “wha...” look, before he grinned and laughed again. “Yeah, okay, maybe that was a stupid question. What does “enforcer” mean?”
“It means I enforce the rules and bylaws of the club, and I do what needs to be done when it needs doing.” I didn’t tell him that included taking care of members who’d screwed the club or killing off enemies. Fortunately, those were rare occurrences, but when their karma came up, it was my job to follow through.
“So, that means you’re part of the leadership, right?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, maybe. Why?”
“That’s very cool. I’ve never met someone who rode in a real motorcycle club. Just those weekend warrior fools who think being badass is riding around on a cruiser with a little neon orange flag waving off the back.”
The image was so incongruous to the Concrete Angels, I couldn’t hold back the laughter. “I can see why I’d be an anomaly.”
“Now, don’t go using those big words on me. I might not be able to follow the conversation.”
I snorted. If he wasn’t smarter than he pretended to be, then I was human. “I’ll try to keep it simple.” I straightened and gave him an amused smile. “It’s been entertaining to meet and talk with you, Coop, but I gotta get a move on.”
“Aw, and we were having such fun out here in the middle of nowhere.” His smile lost some wattage, but he hid his disappointment well. “Well, if you gotta go, you gotta go. Can we trade cell numbers then? I’d like to have another one of these serendipitous meetings again.”
“Now who’s using the big words?” I grinned at his smug expression. “Sure, we can exchange numbers. Just don’t call me. I rarely answer. I’m better at texting.”
He nodded as he gave me his number. “You don’t answer calls?”
I shrugged. “I don’t like to be interrupted by sound, but I answer when it’s important. It depends on who’s calling.”
“I hope I make it to your important-callers list.” The smile he offered made me think of naughty things in more horizontal situations and I turned my face away before he saw me flush with excitement. I had a bad habit of showing when I wanted sex.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Sex didn’t phase me at all. It felt good and scratched the itch of arousal when it came up. I didn’t have the hangups that humans carried around with them. Granted, I required my partners to be old enough to know what they were doing—no teenagers, or virgins if I could help it—and I didn’t keep them long-term. Too much drama with that.
Fantasies of getting busy with Coop already infiltrated my thoughts and I wanted to have some quiet space of my own to savor them. But I didn’t want him to know I was having them.
“We’ll see.” I cleared my throat. “So, I’ll see you around, Coop.”
“Yeah, I hope so. I’ll text you.”
I grinned. “You do that. Maybe I’ll text back.” I winked and swung my leg over my ride.
To be brutally honest, I kinda hoped he’d text me before I made it back to the Concrete Angels’ compound.
****
Cooper
Thank every deity out there that Karma hadn’t written me off as a creepy stalker. Not that I wasn’t stalking her, sort of. But at least she’d given me permission to contact her. I’d texted her a few times since I met her at the lake and she’d actually answered. Still, after three days I still hadn’t figured out a way onto the Concrete Angels’ compound. And I didn’t see any casual way to have her invite me up to her place.
So, I’d been observing from my bush-and-rock nest above their little oasis, hoping to get more of a sense of who I should be following and who I needed to avoid. I had candidates for both lists.
The guy known as Loki scared the living shit out of me. He walked around with a perpetual half-smile and everyone got the hell out of his way. Sometimes he would mess with some of the members just to see how they reacted. The few times he glanced my way on the hill, I dropped to the ground and hid behind the rocks, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn’t need his attention.
But the guy who seemed to be his right-hand man had a quality to him that made me want to pay attention. I’d never been interested in watching guys beyond surveillance, but this man had strength, power, and grace all rolled up in a warrior’s body. He also had tats across his chest and shoulders, which only added to his badassery. He was the kind of guy I’d want as a best friend, ’cause he’d always have my back. Everyone around him treated him with deference and respect, and I never saw him get into fights. His presence seemed to sooth most people.
Another person I thought might be useful was a small woman. She, too, commanded respect and response from the other members of the club, and the few times one of the probationary members got handsy with her, she damn near broke his fingers off one by one. She seemed to be in the know, though, and it would be worth learning more about her when I got the chance.
But the one person I couldn’t take my eyes off whenever she appeared in my field of view was Karma. She made my heart pound for a completely different reason than Loki. My palms sweated and my cock stiffened, and I wasn’t anywhere near her. Just the way she moved had me thinking of hot, sweaty nights on cool cotton sheets, and I had to rub one out a couple of times to find my sanity. I’d never had a woman affect me so strongly before, and it made me doubly determined to get inside the compound.
Fortunately, the probationary members gave me the chance.
I’d been keeping track of all the members of the Concrete Angels, but when a small group of the junior members headed out, I scrambled to tag along. I kept my distance, driving like a tourist enjoying the winding mountain roads. When they pulled into a small hole-in-the-wall liquor store on the outskirts of Fort Collins, it gave me the chance to make my move.
“Fuck, man, how the fuck are we gonna get all the beer and shit back?” The lanky kid with peach fuzz on his face in mangey bits scowled at the cases and his bike as they set them on the ground. “It’s not like I can carry it one-handed.”
The other dimwitted punks seemed to be at a loss as they stood around scratching their heads. I hid my grin as I came out the door behind them with a fifth of Captain Morgan.
“Everything okay, guys?” I asked as I headed to my Caddy.
The crew turned suspicious eyes on me until they got a look at my car. Those old Cadillacs might be heavy and bulky, but just about everyone likes to look at them.
“Is that your car?”
I ignored the stupidity in the question and nodded. “Yup. Every sexy inch of her.”
“Wow, that’s cool.” Mangey grinned and sauntered closer. “How big’s the trunk?”
“Fifty-one point three square feet.” I put the rum in the aforementioned trunk. “Why?”
“You wanna come to a party? You could bring your girlfriend, too.”
That went well. But I narrowed my eyes. “What do I gotta do?”
“Just let us borrow your trunk. You bring the beer and we’re good to go.”
Hook, line, and sinker. I pretended to consider, switching my gaze between the five punks who wore varying expressions of hopefulness. When I came back to Mangey, I let a smile curl my lips.
“Yeah, okay. Where are we goin’?” I left the trunk open and the guys brought the cases of beer to load them up.
Mangey gave me what he thought was a confident smirk. “All you gotta do is follow us. You got a girl to bring?” The way he licked his lips made my skin crawl, but I shook my head.
“Nah. Not currently. Don’t you have girls where we’re goin’?”
The guys shared looks and I bet dollars to doughnuts they were thinking of the woman who’d almost broken their fingers.
“Yea
h, but it’s just better if you bring your own. Most of the women there are the club’s old ladies.” Mangey shrugged, uncomfortable.
Maybe he’s not as dumb as he looks.
I shrugged as I got into my Caddy. “Fine with me. Lead the way.”
“All right.” Mangey grinned and sat his bike as I closed the Caddy’s door.
He waved to everyone and headed out. I let the others follow him before I drove after the group, pretending not to know where we were going. I also pretended that the only reason I wanted in to the compound was to find evidence that the Concrete Angels were working with the Backlog organization. But in reality, I just wanted to see Karma up close again.
My cock stiffened in my jeans when I thought of her, and I had to think about car maintenance to make it go down before I showed up with a woody.
It’s all for the evidence.
Right, and I’d be nominated as the next President of the United States.
Chapter Four
Karma
Good glory, the world’s a fuckin’ mess right now.
I rolled my head on my neck to loosen the muscles, trying to relax after all the work I’d done this week. There’d been SCOTUS hearings and rape allegations and on top of that, I had to set up some of the resulting consequences for the November midterm elections. No matter how people saw it, it would definitely be exciting. But that meant more work for me. And none of it paid in life years.
Maybe I should take a shower to wash all that shit off me.
The Concrete Angels were planning a party and I needed the break in routine. Of course, as the Enforcer I had to keep people in line, but that’s why I’d warned them about InstaKarma™. Since I was watching, they’d get consequences for their actions a helluva lot faster. Most of the card-carrying members of the Concrete Angels had learned. It was the scooters who still needed lessons.
Speaking of the scooters, Attila had sent them off on a beer run to bring back enough for the club to enjoy for the party. But he’d deliberately withheld the keys to the pickup truck and van we had at the club’s disposal. He said it would help the youngsters build character if they figured out a way to get it all back on their bikes. Scott and Schnoz had gased up the pickup for their less-than-triumphant return.
“Riders comin’ in.”
I swear Egyptian had been watching too many old westerns to say shit like that. They pulled open the gates to let the scooters in and one other vehicle.
A Pompeian Red 1962 Cadillac Coupe Deville.
Somehow, I wasn’t surprised that Coop had figured out a way inside the compound. He might be on vacation, but he was a charmer and if he wanted to get into anywhere, he’d get the owners to invite him in. Which is exactly what the scooters have done.
Coop parked the Caddy in front of the Clubhouse and slid out of the front seats like a slick predator. I don’t know why I thought of him that way, but he definitely wasn’t the innocent he pretended to be. Something about this little surprise felt orchestrated.
His gaze immediately found mine and he winked before he sauntered to his trunk and popped it open. Several cases of beer sat in the back of his car along with a bottle of Captain Morgan.
Schnoz, Scott, Attila, and Dollhouse gathered around the back of the car, their expressions a mix of surprise and suspicion.
“Who the fuck are you?” Scott didn’t screw around.
Coop gave his easy smile and held out his hand. “Coop DeVille. Your boys needed a way to get their beer home and invited me to come along.”
Scott stared at Coop’s hand then swung around to glare at Attila. “Way to go, jackass. Now you have to give Gopher Pyle there his cut and we have this yahoo comin’ around.” He shook his head. “This is all on you.”
He turned and stalked away with a scowl. Aw well, Scott wasn’t the most trusting type. That’s why he got along so well with his old lady, Numbers. Of course, it helped that she as a badass forensic accountant who used to work for the FBI before she got raped. She didn’t easily trust either. It had been a pleasure setting her assailant’s karma in motion.
Attila scowled, his gaze sliding up and down Coop’s form. “Do ye jest volunteer to ferry around beer for any asshole who begs ye?”
Coop shrugged, dropping his hand. “No, but those boys couldn’t figure out how to carry it on their bikes and they invited me along if I’d haul it up here. Seemed like a good deal.”
“He’s right. It is a pretty good deal.” Michael grinned and reached out for Coop’s hand. “Michael. Nice to meet you, Coop. That’s a pretty sweet ride you got there.”
Coop snorted with amusement as Michael released him. “Well, it’s good for carryin’ beer.”
Michael laughed. “Yeah, I see that. Come on. Let the scooters unload the beer and we’ll get this party started.”
“All right.” Coop nodded as he stood back. “What are we celebratin’?”
“Karma.” Michael said it like meant consequences, but Coop’s shoulders tightened and his gaze slid around the yard, looking for something.
When his gaze found me, heat leaked into his expression and he grinned. “I didn’t know it was her birthday.”
Michael laughed. “No, not Karma the woman, karma the results of actions and their consequences. We caught a guy embezzling from us and he met with some real world consequences.”
“Shit. Embezzling? That’s stupid. Did you get all the money back?” Coop shook his head as he retrieved his bottle of Captain Morgan.
“Not yet. But we got most of it and his silent partner, so it’s all good.”
“You know, I’m a private investigator. If you want, I could do some legwork and find out more about him and where he could’ve stashed the missing funds. You know, if you’re havin’ trouble finding shit on him.”
Michael paused and narrowed his eyes. I wondered what Coop was up to because it seemed like a weird offer for a guy who’d walked into a biker’s compound five minutes earlier. But Coop was the picture of easy-going earnestness and I couldn’t find a crack in his façade.
“Yeah, we have our own forensic accountant, I think we’re doin’ fine.” Michael’s voice held reserve.
Coop shrugged. “All righty. Well, if you run into any snags in your research, let me know. I’ve been doin’ this a long time and have seen all the ways assholes try to hide shit. One time, I was trackin’ a woman who stole money from one of the biggest banks on Wall Street. She used the money to purchase an antique necklace worth four million bucks. Then she cut it up into different pieces and gave them to her friends to sell using an auction house, laundering the money and making about twice that amount on the pieces.”
“Damn.” Attila nodded his head, impressed. “How did ye catch her?”
“I had a jeweler pose as a buyer and he found the serial numbers marked on each diamond.” Coop grinned. “Traced the money back to her. The bank wanted interest, but that’s not how it works. They got their money, I got paid, and she got thrown in jail.”
“Nice work. Sounds like y’er as crafty as she was.”
Coop nodded at Attila’s compliment. “Glad you think so. Helps in my line of work.”
“She sounds smart. Maybe we should see if she wants to work for us when she gets out.” I stepped into the conversation and Coop’s expression went from affability to smoldering heat as his gaze rested on me.
“I’m not sure she’d be trustworthy. More than likely she’d just steal from you, too.”
“How do we know we could trust you?” Michael tilted his head, his gaze narrowed as it switched between Coop and me.
Coop shrugged. “It’d be a business transaction. You’d pay me to be trustworthy.”
Attila grinned and Michael chuckled, though his gaze still held suspicion. I didn’t blame him. Coop’s interest in helping seemed a little too quick and easy. And the worst part is he’s your mate. Yeah, that still threw me for a loop. It meant if he ever did anything wrong, it’d be my job to take care of it.
And
doesn’t that just make me want to throw up?
“We’ll think about it. But in the meantime, there’s a party to be had.” Michael smiled as he clapped Coop on his back. “Park your car over by the workshop and we’ll get it started.”
Coop grinned and nodded, sweeping his gaze back to me. He gave me a seductive smile as he slid into the driver’s seat and turned the engine over. Glory, he could rev me up like that damn car.
“Hey, Karma. Got a minute?” Michael pulled me aside as the tailfins of the Caddy disappeared behind the barn.
“Yeah,. What’s up?”
“You know this guy?”
I shrugged. Michael wasn’t any more human than I was, but it still surprised me when he picked up on things I hadn’t said or shown. “I met him a couple of days ago. Why?”
“Think he’s on the up-and-up?”
I tilted my head back and forth. “Maybe. I believe he’s an investigator, but I also think he’s a lot more interested in the Concrete Angels than just stumbling across us.”
“Do you think he’s already on an investigation?”
I frowned, trying to put my gut feelings into words. “Kinda. He’s looking for something, but I don’t know what it is and I don’t think he’s made a decision about it yet.”
Michael nodded as Coop reappeared in the yard. “Keep an eye on him. Find out what he knows and what he’s looking for. I’m gonna talk to Loki about putting him on an investigation to find out where and to whom that money went.”
“We still haven’t found all of it?”
Michael shook his head. “Numbers is encountering roadblocks she’s never seen before and something tells me we’re dealing with an organization that’s bigger than the FBI.”
I bit my bottom lip. “What’s bigger than the FBI?”
Michael clapped me on the shoulder. “I dunno, but I have a feeling we’re gonna find out sooner rather than later. See you in a bit.”
Coop ambled up with a grin, his hand wrapped around the bottle of Captain Morgan rum. “I knew I’d see you around. Let’s get this party started.”
