Changing the Script

by Lee Winter

  “Is that safe?” Alex put a staying hand on Sam’s arm as though she was about to run off that second. “On your own?”

  “Sure. It’s just a chat. And I know this guy. I’ll be fine.”

  Sam had gone to school with Dino, where he’d distinguished himself by being a bully. Anyone who looked at him sideways copped his wrath. But she had his measure. He was harmless if you approached him the right way. So, she’d just talk to him. Maybe he’d kick her out of his compound; maybe he’d invite her in and boast about his deeds. Either way, no harm, no foul.

  “Sam?” Alex squeezed her arm, her touch burning through Sam’s uniform. “Please be safe, okay?” She leaned over to kiss her cheek, just as Sam slightly turned away.

  Alex’s lips met Sam’s ear instead, which felt even more intimate.

  Arousal flared, sharp and strong, catching Sam by surprise. Oh hell. “I should go.” Her eyes darted to the door, and she stood.

  “Sam? Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “Hmm?” Sam glanced back.

  Alex pointed to her police belt, still slung over the back of the chair where Sam had dumped it on her way in. Only slightly essential! Geez, where was her head?

  “Oh right.” Sam grabbed it, yanking it on as fast as she could manage; quite the feat given all its bulging pouches. “Thanks.”

  “You’re most welcome.” Alex stood, leaned in, eyes darkening, and this time her farewell kiss connected on Sam’s cheek.

  Her lips were as soft as the rest of her.

  CHAPTER 13

  The Boy I Knew

  Sam pulled up to the Wild Boars clubhouse in her patrol car. This time she was on official business. Uniform, badge, police cap, the whole nine yards, so there could be no misunderstandings. Her hand fell to her belt, loaded with her Taser, baton, and OC spray, reassuring herself that she was prepared for anything. No need to break out her police-issue Glock 17 or the Bushmaster XM15 Patrolman rifle that sat in the lock box in her car’s boot. That’d send the wrong message. She was just here to talk.

  She’d left a message for Sergeant Peterson that she was going in for a “quick interview” with the Wild Boars’ boss. Of course, Vaughan should have been with her for back up, but he was at his conference, so there wasn’t much use asking. He could chew her out later, by which point she could explain why it had been worth it.

  Leaning on the buzzer at the sliding metal door to the compound, Sam waited.

  “What?”

  “Senior Constable Keegan. I’d like a quick word with Dino. It’s business.”

  “Fuck off, eh. He’s busy.”

  “Really think Dino should be the one to tell me that.” Sam wondered if Dino had a clue how much that movie lamp he’d nicked was worth. He could do up to seven years for it. That’d be sweet. “I think he’ll want to hear what I have to say. Be in his best interests, trust me.”

  A colorful curse on the other side of the metal was followed by the grating noise of the gate opening. “Get in, talk fast, then fuck off,” the voice said through the door. Then followed a warning shout to the compound: “Pig on deck!”

  Sam stepped inside to see the usual mass of dead cars and rusted metal. She eyed the man who’d let her in. Fleabite. Well, Aaron Wells, age twenty-two. His slippery parents ran house-repair scams around Matamata.

  The sound of gang members entering the compound brought her up sharply. They didn’t thunder in to try and cow her as some thugs would. No, they creaked up to her gradually in their thick, worn motorcycle boots. The Wild Boars always got off their ample asses slowly and walked languidly so you had plenty of time to take in their massive bulk, intimidating facial tattoos, and pissed-off expressions.

  She headed toward the clubhouse building; a familiar sign on the front read: Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again. As she walked, she did a quick head count. There were more than the ten men she’d expected.

  Has Dino been recruiting?

  A sliver of doubt nudged her confidence. She should know the numbers, damn it. Uncertainty prickled through her. Since when did she throw careful planning out the window? She calmed herself with the reminder that this was Dino, for God’s sake. Not exactly an evil mastermind.

  Sam came to a stop between several wrecked cars as the rush of black-and-red bodies pushed in all around her, taking up position. Within moments, she was surrounded by Dino’s army. She squared her shoulders and eyed his second-in-command, Dogsbreath. “Your boss in?” she drawled. “Need a few words.”

  Dogsbreath disappeared with a grunt.

  As she waited for Dino’s arrival, she assessed her exit options. She’d hemmed herself in. At least two men now stood behind her, forming huge human bollards. Still, if push came to shove, literally, she could probably jump on the roof of the nearest rusty car. Up, over, and out. She’d be fine. Her fitness had to be superior to these grunts, who looked as if the most exercise they got was bending their elbows at the pub.

  Dino emerged, all swagger and corpulence. He wore a black gang T-shirt with a red logo, black jeans, and a studded, fat belt. His unwashed, collar-length hair hung around his face, partially hiding an ugly scar bisecting his eyebrow. Dino’s beer gut perched above spindly legs encased in leather pants. Man was one big topple risk.

  He scratched his fingers through a bushy brown sideburn. “You’re trespassin’. Unless you got some paperwork, hukapapa.”

  “Actually, Fleabite let me in when I buzzed at the gate.”

  Dino glared at Fleabite, then back at her. “Well, now you can buzz right out again.”

  “No, Dino, we need to talk…”

  “No?” His eyes narrowed into slits. He nodded at someone behind her.

  Sam’s legs were kicked out, her knees landing hard on the ground. A foot jabbed into her kidney, and a flurry of clawing hands jerked her OC spray and Taser from her body. A rushing boot came into focus, then agony exploded in her skull.

  Dino stood over her. “Think you’re so fuckin’ cocky, storming in here, demanding my attention like you got a right to it.”

  “For God’s sake, Dino, I just came to talk. But fine.” She gritted her teeth. “I tried to do this nicely. I’ll have your place raided unless you let me up right this bloody minute!”

  Dino’s expression stiffened. He took a fistful of Sam’s vest, lifting her to her feet with one jerk. He switched to hold her from behind, then nodded to Dogsbreath, whose hands wrenched apart the vest, sliding in and out of pockets, before yanking the shirt out of her pants.

  “What the hell!” she hissed, fear lancing through her. “Get your damned hands off me!”

  With roaming fingers hot against her skin, Dogsbreath skimmed her stomach and small of her back. “No wire. Not even a phone,” he told his boss, then then shoved Sam back at Dino.

  “I thought we had a deal,” Dino continued speaking to Sam as though nothing had just happened. He walked back to the front, grabbed a tight fistful of her vest, and jerked her closer. “Sure, we can fuck up each other’s shit around town, but you stay off my turf. This little visit breaks our rules.”

  “What deal?”

  “It was understood. Callin’ me a liar? In front of all me boys? You suicidal?”

  This was not the Dino she knew. Then again, she usually didn’t deal with him in front of his crew. That had clearly been her mistake this time. Is it too late to get the hell out of here? Her legs twitched, ready to bolt or fight, but her training leapt into her head. De-escalate first. “Not calling you a liar, Dino. But I think we have a misunderstanding.”

  “I could do anything to you,” Dino muttered, his bloodshot eyes penetrating deep into her. “Anything at all.”

  Her fear spiked. “I’m a police officer,” Sam snapped. She held his stare evenly. “My boss knows where I am. Anything happens to me, you’re done. All of you are.” Her eyes darted
around to the gloating men.

  “Your…boss. Fuck that’s funny, eh?” He let go of her vest with a dramatic flourish and smirked. “Your sergeant tell you he’s at a conference right now? In Tauranga?”

  How could he possibly know that?

  “Hey, Axel?” Dino called out. “How much does Vaughnie owe to that little operation your brother-in-law runs?”

  “Twelve grand.”

  “Dogsbreath? How much does he owe our club?”

  “Nineteen Gs.”

  Dino sucked in an exaggerated breath. “See, your boss has a tiny gambling problem at some of the private, off-the-books clubs up and down the Waikato region, including one we own. That’s where he is right now, tryin’ desperately to gamble his sorry ass out of debt. He’s been borrowing money all over to pay for his habit, too. Every time you harass one of my couriers, I call up your boss to get him released, all polite like. He doesn’t even argue anymore.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Except it felt a lot like truth. The warning signs jumped into her head. Her growing doubts. Nothing quite lining up. How Sergeant Peterson’s “special interest” cases never resulted in convictions. Not that she could prove any of it. He’d always kept his explanations vague enough to drive a bus through.

  “You know it’s true. He’ll never approve a raid on my compound, so you’re screwed.”

  Well, she’d just go over his head then.

  “Besides, you got no grounds to ask for a raid. Not one shred of evidence against me. And even if you did, Vaughnie’d make it all go away. So, now what I’m going to do with the world’s most annoying fuckin’ cop?” Dino prodded her nose.

  “Do that again and I’ll bite it off.”

  “Hmm. I could let you walk.” He smiled. “For a price.”

  “I don’t take bribes.”

  “No, you idiot. You pay us. A groveling apology to me and the boys for trespassing. That’s just for our amusement. Plus, some confessions you’ve been on the take. On camera. A little insurance, in case you ever got the urge to share what we’ve discussed with any higher authorities.”

  “No. Not for sale.”

  “No? You came in here, disrespecting me in front of my crew. If you don’t take the deal, the boys are gonna want some payback. To kick your ass a little.”

  The hell? There was no way this was going to be a little ass-kicking, with all Dino’s boys, built like brick shithouses, having their blood up. This was insane, even for him. Illegal gaming houses, pushing drugs, even blackmailing a cop was one thing. As serious as all that was, it was nothing compared to beating a cop into a coma or a grave. It was the kind of attention she thought even he was smart enough to avoid.

  “Dino, you don’t have to do this. You made your point. These things get out of hand. You do this, you and your boys will do serious time. The cops will never leave you alone. Don’t do it. You’re not some brainless thug and you’re sure as hell not a murderer.”

  Dino grabbed her collar again. “You always acted like you knew me. You don’t.”

  Alex stepped out of her trailer, thoughts drifting back to Sam. She hoped the woman knew what she was doing, because confronting a man with a grudge, on her own, sounded an awful lot like insanity. Or maybe this was just a regular day for a small-town copper. She was a professional. And maybe Sam did know the locals well enough to know how far she could push them. And this was some old acquaintance, so…

  I should have kissed her properly when I had the chance.

  At the production trailer, she picked up her messages and had a quick chat with the First AD about the updated schedule. “Good,” she said, pleased at Leslie’s efforts. “Looks like we’re back on schedule, finally.”

  “Mmm,” Leslie agreed. “Thank Alice for that. Imagine trying to get anything finished without our M90s. It gets dark early out here.”

  “I know. Right, I’m going to talk to the set designer. I swear the man adds a dozen more ferns to the Amazon camp every time I turn around. We’ll be losing our extras in the foliage at this rate. While I’m gone, can you talk to Max K about scene thirty-two? It’s still not right. You know what I mean.”

  “Sure.” Leslie nodded. “I’ll see you out there.”

  Alex headed over to the poacher’s set, trying to steady her nerves after the chaotic start to the day. The “body” that wasn’t. Seeing Sam’s gorgeous body in very little. All that glorious muscle and flesh. Jesus, she was only human. Then Sam blushing after catching Alex getting changed? That charged air afterward? She’d been so tempted to just…

  Totally should have kissed her.

  Chloe’s head was bent in conversation with her stunt double as Alex neared.

  “He’s sweet. Truly,” she was saying. “But all Sid ever talks about is his sister.”

  Apparently Chloe was still trying to get Sid’s attention. He hadn’t even caught a clue when she’d managed to find a signed 5XL All Blacks rugby shirt and dropped it in his lap at the pub one night with a smooth, “Hey, Sid, saw this and thought you might like it.” He proudly wore it everywhere and told everyone how “cool those Shezan people are, eh?” Yet he remained sweetly oblivious.

  “That’s weird. Why’s Sid so focused on Sam?” Kiri asked.

  “He’s worried she’s obsessed with bringing down some bikie boss. But the whole time he’s talking about her obsession with Dino, he’s kinda missing the point that he’s obsessed with her being okay. He can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

  Alex’s blood ran cold. “Dino runs a biker gang?”

  Chloe’s head whipped around. “Alex? What’s up?”

  “Tell me everything you know about this Dino,” Alex demanded.

  “I only know what Sid tells me,” Chloe said, frowning. “That he’s a bully and a mean bastard who runs the meth trade around the district. Why?”

  “Is he…dangerous?” Stupid question.

  “Alex?” Chloe frowned. “You okay? You’ve gone pale.”

  Fear invaded every pore in her body. “Sam,” Alex whispered. “Sam’s going after Dino. Now. Alone. She thinks he’s behind our set sabotage.”

  Kiri gasped. “Oh hell.” She grimaced. “Dino’s a real knuckle-dragger. He’s scary.”

  Alex grabbed her phone and called Sam. It rang and rang, then clicked over to an answering message with Sam’s voice.

  You’ve reached Ika Whenu Police Station. Senior Constable Keegan is currently not available to take your call. If you have an urgent local matter, the nearest station is Te Aroha on 884 8999. Or call triple one for the national emergency switchboard. You can leave a message after the tone, if the matter is not urgent.

  “She’s not there.” Alex hung up and began to pace.

  Chloe scrambled to her feet. “Sid. He’ll know what to do. I’ll get him.” She bolted.

  Alex called the Te Aroha police number. A man’s recorded voice kicked in.

  You’ve reached Te Aroha Police Station. Sergeant Peterson is presently at a conference and not available to take your call. If you have an urgent local matter, the nearest station is Ika Whenu on 884…”

  “Shit! Sergeant Asshole’s unavailable, too.” Alex scowled, waited for the voicemail tone, then left a message.

  “You mean Sergeant Peterson?” Kiri asked. “Mightn’t have mattered if he was there. He’s useless. All hot air and full of himself.”

  Alex’s jaw worked. “Who else do we call? Main police switchboard?”

  “Not much point. Police from the outer districts would take too long to get here.”

  “Fuck,” Alex muttered. Damn it, Sam. What part of “stay safe” didn’t you understand?

  Blood dribbled out of Sam’s nose. The blow had come from nowhere, snapping her head sidewise. Wiping the blood away slowly with her fingers, she tried to get a look at Dino’s eyes in the darkness. He’d hauled her into hi
s shed for a “private chat,” amid disgusting hoots and calls from his men.

  Christ, how has it come to this? When she closed her eyes, a face swam into view. Cute. Nerdish glasses. Curling smile. Oh. Right. Sam’s motives were obvious. She’d wanted this asshole to leave Alex’s movie alone. She had wanted Alex to succeed. Wanted her to feel safe.

  Wanted her.

  And right there was the number one reason not to let emotions get in the way of policing. Mistakes could get your head ripped off. She sighed.

  Was Dino going to kill her now? Here? How could anyone change this much?

  Dino snapped on the light.

  Her eyes adjusted, blinking. Wait, where was the meth lab? The stockpile of drugs?

  The dusty room appeared to be a shabby man cave, a receptacle of empty beer bottles and topless girlie posters. She took in the ripped armchairs that looked like they’d lost an argument with Killer and her brothers, a bird-shit covered pool table, a framed poster of a gorgeous red Ducati 1299 Superleggera, and a stainless-steel home brewing kit. Plus a ten-kilogram sack of… She squinted… Baking soda? Um, what…?

  Suddenly Dino shoved his face right up next to hers, eyes bright and furious. “You stupid fucking bitch!” he snarled. “God damn it! Fuck you!” He slammed his fist into the shed wall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Then both his hands slapped the wall and stayed there, his shoulders shaking as he pushed against it. The whole structure gave a little wobble.

  “Where’s the meth?” she asked, desperate to distract him from whatever had just set him off.

  “You’re looking at it!” He shot her a withering stare. “I don’t fucking have any, do I?”

  “The hell you don’t. Ika Whenu’s swimming in it.”

  “I know. But it ain’t comin’ from us.”

  Sam glared at the denial.

  “Jesus! Use your bloody eyes, woman. Do you see any drugs?”

  “Is it… I mean, you keep it in the house?” That made no sense. The drug-making process was highly flammable, not to mention the toxic smell would make the place reek.