by Tate James
Zed gave me a nod of understanding, and I raced back upstairs to get dressed with Gen on speakerphone outlining how an "anonymous tip" to the SGPD had resulted in an early morning raid of the club. They hadn't found the guns and cocaine that the tip had promised, but there was a hefty package of PCP found stashed inside an empty beer keg.
"Fuck," I swore as I ended the call to Gen. I hurried my ass back downstairs, clipping on my gun holster on the way and holding my high heels in my fingers to put on in the car. I'd done the bare minimum on makeup, favoring speed over perfection but enough that I was fully put together for anyone searching out cracks in my armor.
Cass was waiting in the foyer when I reached the ground floor, and I could see Zed's Ferrari already idling out the open front door.
"Need backup?" Cass asked, quirking that scarred brow I liked so much.
I flashed him a quick grin. "Nah. Only if I need an alibi for my whereabouts last night." I meant it as a joke, but then realized I might actually need it and grimaced.
Cass gave a short nod. "Understood. I'll take the Gumdrop to do something productive while you're gone."
I rose up on my toes to smack a kiss on his lips in thanks. He wasn't babysitting Lucas, he was taking a worry off my plate. And I doubted Lucas's safety was going to not be a worry for me anytime soon. Not with Chase, or Wenton, still gunning for me.
"You're the best, Saint."
He huffed. "Thank me later, Angel."
I hurried through the front door and found Lucas talking to Zed beside the open driver’s door of the Ferrari. As I approached, Zed handed Lucas a Glock 19 and gave him some firm order that had Lucas glancing back up at Cass. No doubt Zed was instructing him to get lessons from my Grumpy Cat.
For all his macho bullshit in his office this morning, Zed didn't actually want Lucas to wind up dead. And I appreciated that.
"Stay safe, okay?" I told Lucas when he turned to me with a reassuring smile.
He nodded, holding the gun carefully at his side. "I'll be fine. You stay safe." He leaned down and kissed me quickly, then jogged back into the house where Cass was waiting for him.
Zed and I slid into the car, and he gunned it out of his driveway, only pausing for the front gates on their painfully slow motor.
"Where are we going?" he asked, not having heard my call with Gen. He'd jumped into action with just that one wave and look from me, not second-guessing me for even a moment.
"Pink Panther," I told him with a frustrated sigh. "Apparently a sizable package of PCP was found there this morning after an anonymous tip to the SGPD." He gave me an incredulous look, and I scoffed a humorless laugh. "My thoughts exactly. Gen was trying to handle it for us, but she's in over her head."
Zed jerked a nod of understanding. "Well, I have to say"—a smug grin pulled at his lips—"I'm pretty glad I went ahead and installed those surveillance cameras last month."
I rolled my eyes, biting back a grin. He'd suspected someone on the staff at Pink Panther had been smoking in the storeroom, which kept fucking with our fire sensors. So he'd installed hidden cameras to find the culprit, and I'd told him it was overkill because we had bigger problems on our plate.
The shithead was going to be so damn smug if those cameras found whoever had really planted the angel dust on my property. Then again, I'd rather deal with smug Zed than go to jail for an obvious setup like this.
This was unlikely to be the last attempt at framing me for shit, though, so we needed to tighten security on all of our properties, which was going to become a hell of a job for Dallas, seeing as I wasn't sure who the fuck else to trust these days. At least with him, I felt secure in the knowledge he was too intelligent to be manipulated by Chase—or Wenton. I'd already rescued him once from the Wraiths; he'd have to be a total idiot to double-cross me now, not with a baby and defenseless wife at home.
The vibe between Zed and I remained strictly business as we made our way across Shadow Grove to the Pink Panther. That we could switch back into Timberwolf mode so easily and leave the emotional crap at home gave me some small glimmer of hope.
When we arrived, several cop cars with their lights flashing sat in the parking lot, while a multitude of uniformed officers milled around the property. Gen was standing near her sensible white Lexus, her arms folded under her breasts and her toe tapping the concrete in irritation as she spoke to one of the officers. Her face brightened when she spotted Zed and I, though, and the cop turned to look at where she was nodding.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Detective Douchebag," Zed crowed, rubbing his palms together as he approached the uniformed officer in a menacing way. "Why am I not surprised to find you harassing our newest team member?"
Officer Shane Randall—who was not a detective and clearly sour about that fact—scowled at Zed, then gave me a respectful nod. "Hades, we didn't expect you to show up in person."
Gen clicked her tongue in frustration. "I told you I'd called her. You simply didn't listen."
Officer Randall flicked an annoyed glare at Gen, then shifted his attention back to me. "Well. If your new employee has already filled you in, I'm sure you understand why we will need you to come in for questioning regarding the large supply of drugs found on your premises."
"I'll be doing nothing of the sort, Shane," I responded in a cool tone, kicking one brow up. "These sloppy frame jobs are starting to leave a sour taste in my mouth." I indicated for Zed to head inside. He could retrieve the camera footage from the closed-circuit recording, and I had no doubt he could handle anyone who wanted to try and stop him.
Officer Randall gave me a tight, humorless smile. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hades. This was on an anonymous tip, and—"
I cut him off with a scoff of laughter. "Your acting skills need some work too. Don't worry; we've got this one handled." I smiled wide, full of confidence because when Zed installed those cameras a month ago, the storeroom had been cleared entirely for a deep clean. Whoever placed the drugs would be on that recording, clearing us of culpability.
Officer Randall glared death back at me, hooking his thumbs into his gun belt, which was cute, considering how I could probably shoot him three times before he even pulled his weapon out.
"Gen, you can head home if you want." I offered my legal counsel. "We'll be done here shortly. Shane needs to try harder next time. His boss will be so displeased with this failure."
Zed came striding back across the parking lot, a satisfied smirk on his lips and a thumb drive between his fingers.
"Sorry that took a hot second," he said, reaching us and handing the USB drive to me.
"What were you—" Officer Shane started to ask, but Zed cut him off with a finger over his lips.
"Shush, Detective Douchebag. The adults are talking."
Shane smacked Zed's hand away from his face and glared pure venom at us both. "Touch me again and I'll—"
"You'll do nothing Shane," I told him in a glacially cold voice. "The only reason you're still alive right now is that you serve a purpose. Don't test me, or you can join your brother in the underworld."
Officer Shane's face reddened with anger, but he wasn't smart enough to talk his way out of this situation. He used to be on the Wraith’s payroll and had close ties to Madison Kate's deranged stalker. We let him live because we knew how dirty he was. It was like a flashing neon sign screaming that a case or a crime scene was being meddled with by someone outside my organization.
"Gen, can I borrow your tablet?" Zed asked politely, and our lawyer quickly pulled the device from her handbag to hand over. When her fingers brushed Zed's on the handover, her eyes widened and a flirtatious smile touched her lips for a split second before she wiped it clear.
Shit. Gen was crushing on Zed.
Like a secure, well-adjusted adult, I shoved aside the niggle of territorial jealousy and focused on the current situation. Zed plugged his drive into the tablet and brought up the recording on the screen.
He must have already done a qui
ck scan through for our culprit while he was inside because he navigated the video to a precise point from just twenty-four hours earlier.
"Here we go," he announced, hitting the play button. The storeroom was brought up in color—as it'd been daytime when the recording took place—and showed stacks of liquor stock in cartons and a neat pile of beer kegs in the corner.
A moment after the recording started, the door opened and our regular delivery guy wheeled in a cart with three fresh kegs stacked up on it. He took them over to the side of the storeroom, unloaded them, then started loading the empty ones onto his cart.
Then someone else entered the room wearing a ballcap and carrying a sports bag over his shoulder. The newcomer went straight to the "official" security camera in the opposite corner to where Zed's extra camera was placed and switched it off before exchanging some words with the delivery guy.
Money changed hands, then the delivery dude left with only two of the three empty kegs. Alone, the second man quickly closed the storeroom door, then placed his bag down on the ground and unzipped it. From it, he pulled a large package that I could only assume to be the PCP in question. He unscrewed the top of one of the empty kegs, dropped the wrapped package inside, then closed it up again.
Just as he exited the room, he turned and gave Zed's extra camera a full view of his face. Which Zed paused the video on.
"Uh-oh," he murmured, sarcastic as fuck. "He looks familiar."
Officer Shane let out a string of curses, and I arched a questioning brow at Zed. He just shot me a secretive wink, and Shane bellowed across the parking lot, shouting for one of the officers on site.
My brows rose in surprise, and I gave Zed a look. "Seriously? That's ballsy."
He smirked. "On my way in I spotted him looking sketchy as hell as he pretended to search through the bar stock. It was easy enough to guess the drugs would have been planted recently. They wouldn't risk them sitting there to be found by anyone else."
Gen gaped. "That was really smart thinking, Zayden."
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting. Zed was watching me for it, too, that prick. I bet he was already fully aware Gen had the hots for him, too. He was always aware of women's attention.
"Looks like someone isn't going quietly," I commented, nodding at the entrance where an officer had just tried to make a break for it, only to be tackled by another of his colleagues. The quick-thinking officer knelt on the slimy bastard’s back and cuffed him, his movements rough as he relieved the suspect of his gun belt and jerked him to his feet.
Officer Shane took over, pushing the drug carrier across the parking lot to one of the squad cars, then locking him inside. He stomped back over to where we stood watching, amused as hell, and his face was like pure thunder.
The other cop—the one who'd tackled our drug planter—was shouting commands for the other cops to clear out of my bar, and they were scurrying like rats.
"Look," Officer Shane snapped, coming back to stand in front of us with his hands tightly balled at his sides. "I've made mistakes in the past, and I'm well aware of that. But for what it's worth"—he dropped his tone lower, keeping the volume down so only we could hear—"I'm not as dirty as you think. This setup wasn't me."
I pursed my lips, giving him a long look. "Why do you feel the need to tell me this, Officer Shane?"
His face darkened like it was physically paining him to admit fault. "Because some bad shit is going down, and I'd rather be on your side. I'm trying."
I tipped my head to the squad car one of his own colleagues was currently locked up in and gave him a pointed look. "Seems to me like you could be trying harder, Shane."
The officer just grunted and held out his hand to Zed for the thumb drive. My second gave a laugh and shook his head, though.
"Sorry, Detective Douche, I think I'll hand-deliver this to your captain after I send myself and the commissioner some copies. Can't be too careful when it comes to the SGPD, now, can we?" Zed smirked and tucked the thumb drive into his pocket.
Officer Shane just gave an exasperated sound and stomped off back toward his squad car.
The uniformed officer who'd done the tackling strode over to us when most of the cop cars started departing my parking lot. He held his hand out for me to shake, his eye contact steady.
Curious, I shook his hand and gave him a mental check mark for not going limp-wristed when shaking hands with a woman.
"Hades," he greeted me in a gruff voice, "I apologize for meeting you under these circumstances. I'm Lieutenant Jeffries; we've spoken once by phone."
He was a bulky, middle-aged African American man with a face that seemed to be permanently creased into a frown, but based on the way he held eye contact, either he was the best actor I'd met to date or he had nothing to hide.
Dear lord. Had I just met SGPD's first totally uncorrupt cop? He was a recent transfer from out of state, so maybe it was possible.
Nah. Some things were too preposterous to suspend disbelief over.
"Lovely to meet you in person, Lieutenant Jeffries," I responded with an indifferent expression. "I'll send over an invoice for any damages your men caused here today. I trust that won't be an issue for you."
His eyes tightened, but he jerked a nod. "Understood," he muttered. "I look forward to a peaceful working relationship with your company in the future, Hades. Hopefully, this hasn't discolored that." He indicated to the Pink Panther and the fact that an officer on his team had been the one to plant the drugs.
"We'll see," I replied, tilting my head to the side and holding his stare without blinking or smiling.
The lieutenant delivered a few polite greetings to Zed and Gen, then gracefully excused himself from our company.
He drove away with a small wave, and the three of us remained in the parking lot until he disappeared into the distance.
"Holy shit," Gen said on a long exhale. "I had no idea how I was going to get you out of that drug charge. Maybe I'm not experienced enough for this role after all."
"Nah," Zed replied before I could. "You're still new; you'll learn."
Gen gave him a bashful smile, and I tried really hard not to side-eye Zed. The shithead was trying to play me, and it wasn't going to work.
"Actually, while I have you both here..." Gen slid her tablet back into her bag and tucked the strap over her arm. "I heard a rumor about why Allied Insurance rejected your claim on 7th Circle. But it's just a rumor right now. I'm trying to gather hard supporting evidence of this."
"Spit it out," I ordered, my tone slightly harsher than it needed to be. Goddamn Zed flashed me a look, too, and I groaned inwardly. "We tend to find where there's smoke, there's fire," I explained, evening my tone out.
Gen nodded her agreement. "Well, apparently the FBI is looking into you as a person of interest. The fire investigation ruled it arson—of course—and someone's pointing the finger at you. Especially with your building being bombed, too. All the detonation points were on your parking level, you were identified at the scene..." She trailed off with a shrug.
I quirked one brow. "I thought you handled that."
"I did," she responded quickly. "But this is some other department. Like I said, it's all just rumor for now. I'll keep my eye on things, but in the meantime, just... be careful."
I kept my expression neutral as I thanked her and walked back over to Zed's Ferrari, but internally I was rolling my eyes. No shit, Gen. All I'd ever done in my whole freaking life was be careful and cover my ass. I wasn't about to stop now, no matter what the distractions were like.
33
My phone buzzed with a text message as Zed and I were leaving Pink Panther. A flash of panic jolted through me when I saw it was from Cass, and I held my breath as I opened it up.
Cass: Taking Gumdrop to the range at SS KJ-Fit.
I wrinkled my nose, trying to understand. Then I clicked that he meant the newly opened MMA gym on the south side of Shadow Grove. Kody had bought an old rifle range with a huge warehou
se space and had converted it into his newest branch of KJ-Fit, complete with a parkour course and shooting range.
"Cass is taking Lucas to the southside KJ-Fit," I told Zed.
He gave a lopsided smirk. "Probably decided to teach him how to shoot. You want to head over there? Been a while since we've tested our marksmanship."
Oh man, I could never say no to a challenge like that. "You're on. I bet you're rusty as fuck. When's the last time you even needed to shoot someone?"
Zed scoffed a laugh. "Seriously? Last night. Trust me, if one of us is rusty, it ain't me."
"Bet me on it, then." I cocked my head and gave him a challenging grin. "If you're so confident, lay down some odds."
He gave me a sharp look, like he wasn't sure if I was being serious or not, then gave a soft laugh and shook his head. "Alright, smartass. Hope you and your big dick energy are ready to be taken down a notch."
"Cute. That won't be happening." I grinned because out of everyone... yeah, Zed could beat me on this. He was an impeccable marksman, one of the best. And it had been a decently long time since I'd actually practiced at a range.
He shrugged. "Well then, you'll have nothing to worry about. Of course, if you lose..." He hummed as he thought up an appropriate punishment. "If you lose, then you have to learn a routine from Maxine and perform at Club 22 on a Friday night."
My brows shot right up into my hair. "What? No." Maxine was one of our senior dancers at Club 22. Senior in that she had been with us for the longest, not that she was old. Hell, she was probably younger than me. She was crazy popular, though, and headlined our Friday night shows, making them a packed crowd week after week.
"No?" Zed smirked. "Guess you're not so confident after all. Tell you what, if I lose, I'll do the same."
My lips parted in surprise. But... shit. That was too good to pass up, wasn't it? Beat Zed in a target-shooting competition and see him shake his ass on stage? Maybe Lucas could give him some tips.
"In Maxine's costume?" I taunted, pushing the bet even further.
