“I can’t really explain it.” I lay my head down on a pillow, absorbing Trent’s fragrance as I smirk up at the ceiling. “We had this instant connection…somehow I knew right off that he’s different. He felt the same about me. Being with him is worth whatever happens.”
“I’ll be sure to remind you of that when you’re flipping burgers and living off welfare checks.” She sits taller, straightening her jacket. “What’s gotten into you? No man is worth losing everything for.”
I shrug. “One day I hope you find one that changes your mind.”
“Not likely.” Her gaze rolls upward. “So what does this mean for your case? Please tell me he’s not the perp.”
“He’s not. In fact, we’re going after the perp together.” For a moment I consider telling her everything about Trask and Cali, but I doubt even then she’d understand. It was easy for everyone in Chicago to assume we were a couple because she thinks any kind of relationship with men is a waste of time. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”
She rises, her bedroom becoming a blur as she heads for her closet. “You can fill me in on everything once I get to the airport.”
“So that’s it? I don’t get any say in whether or not you come to my rescue?”
She glares into the camera, lips pursed. “Whether or not you like it, you’re one of few people I give a shit about. I’m not going to leave you hanging if you’re in trouble.” Then her lips lift with a smile. “I’ll see you soon.”
The call ends mere seconds before Trent strolls back into the room. Door shutting behind him, he removes the towel from around his waist to catch the water dripping from his hair onto his sculpted pecs.
“Who was that?” he asks, dark brows shooting up to his hairline as he pats himself dry.
Seeing him freshly cleaned and naked, I don’t have the willpower to stay away. I start for him with a heavy sigh. “That was more backup.”
* * *
Hours later, nervous energy vibrates through my core as we follow the small caravan of unmarked trucks en route from Bentley’s compound toward the industrial side of St. Paul. Beside me in the back of Stone’s SUV, Trent hooks his arm around my neck, fingertips obsessively running back and forth over my fresh braids. From his blank expression, I sense he’s trying to calm himself. At least he’s not messing with his scar—something I’ve started to suspect means he’s agitated beyond consoling.
The comfort I’m given comes from the 9mm strapped to my waist in a concealed pouch.
Not knowing what we’ll come across tonight has everyone on edge. It was a relief to bring in more enforcements, yet I hate the fact that literally everyone I care about is now mixed up in this mess. Emersyn used her credentials to get on an already full flight to Minnesota that departed less than half an hour after her call. She’s already situated with Vaughn and Declan, keeping an eye on Bentley’s place while the rest of us trail the trucks.
Sickness washes over me when V-RON INDUSTRIES comes into view. There are too many ways my loved ones could get hurt trying to bring Bentley down.
Steering the SUV a safe distance behind the trucks, Stone grunts. “Pretty ballsy to drive out in the open like that.”
“They don’t give a shit who sees them,” Trent says, sounding just as surly. “They know the cops won’t touch them.”
“Why would Bentley manufacture drugs out of his home when he has all these warehouses at his disposal?” I ask, unsurprised when my question is met with silence. Something about the situation doesn’t add up, intensifying the unease sloshing through my gut.
The silence stretches out as Stone parks in a secluded area across the road. The four trucks pull into the biggest building, and an industrial-sized garage door closes behind them. Only a small handful of minutes pass before eight men emerge, appearing far too casual for having left potentially millions of dollars worth of synthetic drugs behind. If they’re not taking the time to unload the product, they must be waiting to ship them out to their next destination at another time.
Bentley’s men pile into three separate vehicles, only one of which would indicate their boss pays them well. As soon as they’re on the road and out of sight, a surge of adrenaline kicks in. Tonight’s stakeout was intended to gather facts before we involve Ryker’s drug lord buddy, and I’m itching to start.
After an agonizingly long pause, my burner phone vibrates with the planned text from Liam.
You’re good to go. BE CAREFUL.
“Liam said it’s safe,” I announce, nudging Trent to move out of my way. “I’m going in.”
“Not alone.” He grunts, pulling on the handle and slipping out ahead of me.
Though the original plan was for me to slip inside after Liam temporarily disabled the security system, I know better than to argue when Ryker joins us on the side of the road. I’m surrounded by alpha men who don’t back down for anything unless their women forbid it. Even then it’s questionable—especially with Trent.
“Don’t worry, brother,” Stone calls out through the open window, throwing Trent one of his trademark smirks that never fails to give me chills. “I’m the master of diversions. No one will catch your girl.”
I roll my eyes, already annoyed by the camaraderie they formed once they discovered they’d both served in the Marines. Last thing I need is for Trent to become best buds with the only man in my life who was often labeled by outsiders as a psychopath.
When we start for the wooded area lining the property, Trent reaches for my hand. I lift my hands up, shooting him a warning glare. “Treat me like a damsel in distress that needs protection, and your ass will be back in that car with your new buddy.”
Ryker nudges Trent’s shoulder. “Don’t take it personally. She’s always been that way.”
Trent merely grunts in reply, hurrying ahead of me. As much as I want to laugh along, I’m too concerned that Trent won’t keep his promise if we run into Bentley.
Once we’re behind the building where they stored the trucks, poised just outside of the fence, I text Stone to let him know we’re in place. A beat later, a loud explosion rocks the still night, shooting a red ball of fire over the guard tower and rocketing into the dark sky.
Trent startles, pulling me up tight against him.
There wasn’t any mention in his file of PTSD after the accident in Afghanistan, but it’s understandable the sound of an explosion would shake him up regardless of any official diagnosis. Something tugs at my heart when I remember some of the brutal stories he’s started to share about being stationed over there—the reason he has night terrors.
“Crazy fucker loves any opportunity to blow shit up,” Ryker mutters, shaking his head.
I remove Trent’s hoodie tied around my waist and throw it over the top of the barbed-wire fence. Before Trent can stop me, I scramble to the top and propel over to the other side. My shoe catches on the fence and I fall to the ground with a silent yet painful jar to my upper thigh. Once I’ve regained my footing, two sets of beautiful blue eyes gawk back at me from the other side.
“You alright?” Trent growls, eyeing me like I’m made of glass.
Choosing to ignore him, I remove my gun from the pouch and drop a live round into the chamber. “You guys keep a look out from here,” I whisper. “If I need to haul ass for any reason, send a text to my burner phone—it’s on silent.”
There may as well be flames shooting from Trent’s flared nostrils when he digs his fingers into the chain links and shimmies up. The fence bows and violently rattles with his weight before he drops down at my side in half the time it took me.
“Show off,” I snarl under my breath.
In the blink of an eye, he’s off the ground and in motion. Pulse hammering against my neck, I say a little prayer that he doesn’t do anything stupid, because there won’t be any stopping him.
“Go,” Ryker encourages, nodding. “I’ve got this.”
Trying to catch up with Trent’s furious paces, I break into a jog and wince when a shimme
r of pain spreads just beneath my hip. Damn it, my exercise regimen went out the door when I moved. Back in Chicago, I ran along the river downtown nearly every morning before work. These days the only thing keeping me in shape is Trent’s sinful body.
Once we’ve reached the front side of the building, he signals for me to wait as he checks to make sure it’s clear. I click my tongue and push past him, weapon aimed outward as I start for the smaller entrance door. As I suspected, it’s locked. Trent appears beside me with a small metal tool from his pocket. Seconds later, the door pops open.
“I don’t want to know why you’re carrying that around, or why you’re so good at picking locks,” I hiss, eyes flickering upward as I creep into the building.
The odor of diesel lingers as I blindly activate the flashlight on my burner phone. Confirming my suspicion that it's merely a stop in the trucks’ final destination, the building’s otherwise stark and unoccupied.
“I still don’t understand why he’d manufacture this stuff out of his house,” I tell Trent as I’m grabbing a set of latex gloves from my pocket. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“You don’t believe Bentley’s behind the drugs,” he assumes, lips spreading with a sneer as he crosses his massive arms over his expansive chest.
“Never said that. I’m just trying to work this out.” After slipping the gloves into place, I square up behind one of the trucks and grab onto the door’s lever. “Here we go.”
I can hardly breathe as I release and rotate the latch, then lift. The door slides up on the tracks with a loud clack, and Trent curses behind me.
It’s empty.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” I assure him. “Not yet.”
We check the other three trucks. Trent’s frustration grows when we discover them all to be as empty as the first. I climb into the fourth truck, biting on my tongue with another flare of discomfort. Amidst the faint aroma of coconut, I shine the light in every nook and cranny, inspecting every last inch. When I come across several coarse fibers, I’m struck with a theory.
“Com‘ere a minute,” I tell Trent. “Make sure you don’t touch anything on your way in.”
Part of me wants to kiss the scowl off his gorgeous face when he easily heaves himself up using only his arms and elbows. The man must have a core of steel. For the first time since we met, I’m able to picture him in a desert combat uniform, semi-automatic strapped to his back. Desire licks between my legs. I managed to snag myself a legit American hero.
Before the fantasy carries me away from our task, I jerk my eyes away from his tempting form. “You smell that?”
“Smells like suntan lotion.”
Scooping up a pile of the fibers, I stand and hold them in the palm of my hand for him to see. “Looks like they were transporting coconuts.”
“That can’t be it! Why all the fuckin’ secrecy?” He whirls around, kicking the side of the truck. The metal bows outward in the shape of his foot. “Fuck!”
“So much for a covert operation,” I scold. Dropping the fibers, I force him back around to face me. “Back in Chicago, my roommate and I did a routine traffic stop—ended up busting a local dealer for smuggling V into the city. You know how they were doing it?”
“How would I fuckin’ know? Coconuts?” he quips in a dark growl.
“Yes, babe, coconuts.” I stand on my toes to brush my lips over his, eager to calm him in any way possible. “Despite coming up empty-handed, we at least have proof your hunch about him being involved is likely right.”
Grasping the ends of my braids, his chest heaves with a heavy, calming breath. “Why would they transport empty trucks from his place to this warehouse?”
“Maybe we have it backwards. Maybe they’re bringing the shipment to Bentley’s house.”
“Why? Where are they manufacturing this shit?”
“Both good questions.” The burner phone buzzes against my ass cheek. I pull away from Trent to retrieve it, finding a message from Emersyn.
Movement at perp’s house. You’ll want to see this for yourself.
I grin up at Trent. “We’ll figure this out. And we’ll nail Bentley to the wall.”
“Fuckin’ A—you’re sexy when you’re confident.” He fists my Soundgarden t-shirt, bending for a more languid kiss. Fingers digging into my ass cheeks, he lets out a little growl.
After a beat, I draw my lips away and push on his chest. “Stop distracting me, you sexy beast. We have to go. There’s something going down at Bentley’s.” I start for the tailgate, nearly dropping when struck with sharp pain. I rub my leg, scowling. “Damn it…I must’ve pulled a muscle scaling that fence.”
Trent jumps from the truck, offering his hand. When I take it, he pulls me down into his strong arms, cradling me like a child. His teeth glow bright against the darkness with a wide smile. “Couldn’t resist the chance to help a damsel in distress.”
With that gorgeous smile, something delightful gnaws at my chest. I can almost imagine a real, tangible future with Trent Risotto. Deep down, I may even believe I’m going to marry the man. Maybe even start a family.
But I don’t dare picture a happily ever after yet. Not when part of me’s convinced everything could still fall apart.
13
Trent
In a neighborhood a mile past Bentley’s, Stone kills his headlights before pulling up behind the others. Can’t shake the eerie sense that something severe’s about to go down. Doesn’t help that Sasha’s fuckin’ injured, and too damn stubborn to admit it.
Once the SUV’s in park, I brace an arm over her. “You’re waiting here.”
“We’ve already covered this subject,” she bites out through gritted teeth.
Cupping her face, I wait until I have the full attention of those never-ending brown eyes. “If you had to run for your life right now, could you?”
“Of course.” Jerking her chin away, she scowls and springs for the other door.
“Fuck!” I climb out my door to chase after her. Before I can take a step away from the SUV, she’s already planted beside our crew, shooting me a triumphant smirk.
Ryker steps in next to me. “What was that about?”
“She hurt herself jumping over the damn fence,” I growl, eyeing both him and Stone. “Don’t let her pull any hero bullshit.”
Beside him, Stone nods once. “Copy that.”
Sasha holds my gaze from where she stands next to a tall brunette with sharp, olive-toned features—likely Spanish or Greek. After everything Sasha told me about her roommate, I’d expected a much older broad with bad hygiene—the kind you’d imagine living with a dozen cats. Not the bangin’ hot chick in tight blue jeans and a blazer. Yet she still doesn’t hold a candle to my girl’s beauty.
Something about the situation has Sasha shifting her weight and wrapping her arms around herself. The way she talked about Emersyn the past couple days, I’d figured she’d be excited to see her friend. Instead she looks uncomfortable as fuck.
“This is my friend, Emersyn Olivia,” Sasha announces in a soft voice that’s not quite right. She proceeds to point us out, one by one. “Em, that’s Stone, Ryker, and…” Once she gets to me, her face pales and she clears her throat. “Trent.”
Ryker dips his chin. “We met once—in Chicago. Glad you could be here to help.”
The woman ignores him. Her dark eyes pin me down, burning with an unreadable range of emotions. More than anything, I get the feeling she’s sizing me up. Could hear a fuckin’ pin drop when she marches in my direction, gaze still cemented on mine. Maybe it’s my lucky day and she’s gonna offer up the fantasy of joining me and Sasha for a round.
“What in the hell did you do to my girl?” she demands, nostrils flaring. “She hasn’t even known you that long! Why’s she being so reckless for a man like you?”
Is this chick for real? Glancing Sasha’s way, I check to make sure I’m not being set up for failure. She responds with a tiny nod of encouragement, otherwise doesn’t give a damn thing
away by her flat expression.
So I square up to the woman, arms crossed over my chest. “A man like me? No disrespect, lady, but you don’t know a fuckin’ thing about me. And I didn’t do a damn thing to your girl that she didn’t want me to do, so you reel that shit in before you cross a line.”
The scowl pulling at her lips doesn’t let up. She hooks her thumbs inside the back of her jeans, discreetly flashing the pistol holstered to her hip. “What if you catch your guy, and she’s fired afterwards?”
If she really thinks these kind of scare tactics are going to work on someone like me, she clearly doesn’t know jack-shit. “Plan on doin’ whatever it takes to make her happy for as long as she’ll have me. I’m a man of my word—so long as I’m around, you won’t have to lose sleep worrying about her.” Glancing over her shoulder, I find Sasha biting down on a smile. “This some kind of test?”
“Damn right it’s a test,” Emersyn confirms, slapping my back. “And you passed with flying colors. Congrats, buddy. Just don’t fuck with her, because I guarantee I’ll find a way to throw your ass in prison for the rest of your life.”
Stone and my crew break into hysterics. Anger ripples down my spine, causing my scar to burn. But I hold back for Sasha. Can’t imagine it’d go down well if I told her friend to fuck off.
Clicking her tongue, Sasha nudges her friend back a few steps. “You had your fun. Can we focus on what we’re all doing here?”
“Right.” A coy smile lifts Emersyn’s lips. She snags a pair of night goggles off the hood of Declan’s Jeep, motioning for us to follow. “Come on—it’ll be easier to show you.”
“Don’t worry, beautiful,” Vaughn calls after her. “We’ll keep a lookout for anything suspicious.”
Emersyn mutters to Sasha, “I’m ready to drop that guy’s ass.”
I shoot Vaughn a warning glare as I follow the women. Don’t need to give Emersyn another reason to suspect I’m no good because of the company I keep. She seems to have enough issues the way it is already.
Undercover Rockstar: A Bad Girls novel Page 12
