Mettle: (Spartan Riders #2)

by J.C. Valentine

  “Seems to be a problem with you today,” Blake observed. “Have you heard anything I’ve said? Anything anyone’s said?”

  They were having church, a private meeting the brothers held whenever they needed to review sensitive topics and strategize.

  “Depends on where you left off,” Tucker hedged.

  “Fuck’s sake, Country. Now is not the time to be checkin’ out. I need your head in the game. What’s your problem anyway?”

  “Pretty obvious, Prez,” Taco said from down the table. “He’s been pussy whipped, and from the looks of him, he got beat down good, too.”

  “Man, fuck you,” Tucker shot back. He didn’t appreciate the suggestion, nor the resounding laughter that followed.

  “That true? Your woman fuck with your head?” Blake asked.

  “Again, she’s not mine, and nothing is wrong with my head.” Avoiding his gaze, he said quietly, “I’m just tired. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Then I suggest you catch some after we’re done here because I need you fresh for later.”

  “What’s happening later?”

  Blake’s eyes narrowed, his annoyance showing plainly. “Had you been paying attention earlier, you would know that while you were playing whipping boy for your lady friend, Repo was out following up on some of those leads you gave me. He thinks he found a link to Cruiz.”

  “Or one of his men, at least,” Repo spoke up. Leaning back in his chair, Repo was the picture of ease in his black-on-black attire, his hair slicked back, and his white beard trimmed up nice. He still looked like Santa Claus, but the murderous edge had been smoothed out a bit.

  “One of my men at the site remembers a man they didn’t recognize roaming around the building that burned down the day of the fire. Said they saw him asking some of the men for directions somewhere, but he wasn’t close enough to hear what was said.”

  “Well, did they talk to this person?”

  Blake sighed heavily. “No, they were busy cutting tiles for one of the kitchen floors, so they brushed it off, assuming he was there for permits, and kept working. Didn’t even remember the guy until Repo asked if he’d seen anything suspicious.”

  “A detail like that, and it slipped his mind?” Tucker asked, eyebrows raised.

  “Yeah, that’s what I said,” Repo told him. “I asked around. No one else remembers seeing this mystery man, nor do they remember talking so him. So, Blake checked with the city. No permit man was scheduled to come out that day. So he pulled some records next. Turns out the guy matches a description for a newbie that’s not from around here. Just started working construction last month and this is his first job.”

  “What about a background check?” Tucker asked. The back of his neck was tingling, his senses on high-alert. Something about this was off. Way off.

  “All clear. Not a black mark anywhere,” Blake grunted.

  “Yep. Twenty-four, married six months, renting a hotel room just off the highway. It all looks good on paper until you start digging.”

  Tucker’s fist clenched under the table. “What’d you find?”

  “He’s a ghost,” Repo deadpanned. “Didn’t exist up until five years ago. Last known place of employment was a janitorial position at a bank that closed its doors after the stock market crashed. Whoever he is, it isn’t the person in his file.”

  “You think he belongs to Cruiz?”

  Blake’s fingers drummed against the table, a habit he had whenever he had something on his mind. “Sent a coupla prospects out to his hotel room this morning. Front desk says room’s been empty since last night.”

  “Didn’t even stick around for the continental breakfast.” Moose shook his head mournfully.

  “Good thing he didn’t. Last time I ate Maureen’s eggs, I was on the toilet for eighteen hours straight,” Taco shared. “Ruined breakfast for me for months. Still can’t look at an egg without my asshole puckering.”

  Every man at the table shot him a dirty look.

  “Dude, don’t no one here want to hear that shit,” Cricket said, and everyone mumbled their agreement.

  Taco held his hands up all, what did I do?

  Tucker shook his head and returned his attention to his president. “So he was tipped off and ran.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “What else do we know?”

  “Well, seeing as he didn’t have the decency to leave a forwarding address,” Repo remarked, “nothing. He slipped in and out without notice.”

  “So more than likely, Cruiz sent him in, he torched Blake’s building, and then he bounced,” Tucker summed it up. “Since we don’t know who the guy was, where he came from or where he went, we’re back to square fucking one.”

  “Yeah, we are. Any ideas on how we’re goin’ to change that?” Blake asked, his gaze traveling around the table in askance.

  Everyone in the room avoided his stare, their expressions grim. As the people who’d sworn to take care of their town, there was no greater offense than stepping onto their turf and creating the kind of upheaval they’d experienced since this all started. Worse was that they were on the losing end of it all without the first clue as to how to turn it all around.

  “Well, what a sorry bunch of assholes we are,” Blake snarled. He was pissed, and he had a right to be. This was his patch the war was happening on, his business and his family that was being targeted. Out of everyone, he had the most to lose. “Well, boys, while each of you are off doing God knows what tonight, I want you to take some of that time and spend it thinking about how we’re going to turn this bullshit around. I want Cruiz found, I want that piece of shit pyro hunted down and taken care of, and I want every single one of you working tirelessly to get it done.”

  “Where do we even start?” Moose asked. “We’ve already established that we don’t know who the guy is or where Cruiz is holed up at. How are we supposed to find anything without a place to start?”

  “If I knew that, I would take care of it myself. Every single one of us here has a skillset. Country and Repo have each managed to put their talents to use to get the intel we’ve got here tonight. Pull your heads out of your asses and put them together, see what you come up with. Anything is better than being sitting ducks.”

  Moose opened his mouth to issue another protest, but Blake slammed the gavel down, effectively shutting him up. “Meeting’s over. Y’all get the fuck out of my sight. Next time I see you, one of you better have something for me.”

  Chairs scraped the floor as everyone pushed to their feet and filed out the door. Tucker moved to follow, but Blake held up his hand, stopping him.

  Sitting back down, Tucker got comfortable. He had a feeling that whatever Blake had to say, it was going to take a while.

  As soon as the last man was gone, his dark gaze swung to Tucker. “Where were you today?”

  “Been here all morning.”

  “Don’t jerk me around. You were a million miles away, and I want to know what’s on your mind. I’ve never known you to be distracted. You’re always on point, always the first to offer solutions. This isn’t like you.”

  Tucker shrugged, unsure of what to say.

  “Does it have anything to do with your girlfriend?”

  He wouldn’t be surprised if steam started shooting from his ears. “She’s not my—you know what, fuck it. Think whatever you want. And no, she has nothing to do with anything. In fact, as of last night, she’s out of the picture.”

  “You broke up?”

  Tucker’s arms shot above his head. “We weren’t dating! God, why can’t anyone get that through their thick skulls around here.”

  “Probably because it’s a bald-faced lie,” Blake pointed out. Tucker scowled. Blake swiped the air with his hand. “Look, I’m not going to battle over the details with you. There’s too much shit going down right now, and I honestly don’t have the patience for it.”

  “Thank God.”

  “But I will say this. Clearly, she has everything to d
o with your lack of focus, which means that something was going on between you two. More than you care to admit. It’s fucked with your head, and I can’t have my best man out in the field if he’s not one hundred, you feel me?”

  A niggling of worry swirled in Tucker’s gut. “What are you sayin’, Prez?”

  “Until you’re one hundred percent, I’m grounding you.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “I just did. If a call comes down and we have to ride out, I can’t risk you out there with my men. We’re a team, and if even one member is weak, we all are. So, until you got your head straight, you’re out.”

  “This is bullshit, Blake, and you know it.”

  “You don’t like it,” Blake said, standing up, “then figure out how to fix it. I suggest starting by admitting to yourself that you’re in love with that woman.”

  “What is it with you people thinking everyone needs a woman to complete them? I complete myself, dammit. The only thing I need is the club.”

  Blake strode past him, his back filling the doorway. “That’s what we all say until she walks in.”

  Tucker detected a smile in Blake’s voice and, out of curiosity, he rose to his feet and followed, stopping in the doorway to watch as Blake crossed the room, his strides heavy and determined. Then he saw why. Gabby and Ash were at the bar, talking to Ginger and a few of the guys. When she looked up and saw Blake coming, a smile lit her whole face, and if ever there had been any doubt, there wasn’t now. Gabby was a woman in love, and she only had eyes for Blake.

  As Blake reached his little family, tousling his son’s hair and reaching for his woman to pull her in for a kiss, Tucker’s stomach dropped.

  He didn’t have to wonder why. The picture of Talia’s pretty face in his mind’s eye said enough. Even if he wasn’t ready to admit it to himself, his heart already knew what was up.

  Now he just had to come to terms with it.

  TWENTY

  “You want me to do what now?”

  “I want you to wear a wire,” Ingram repeated. It was the third time he’d said it, but no matter how many times she heard it, Talia’s mind refused to accept it.

  “I’m sorry, Sir, but that’s not a good idea. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Dangerous would be sitting on our hands while you continue to take your sweet time wooing that biker. Meanwhile, we have seven more women missing!”

  Talia’s stomach twisted on itself. When she’d walked into Ingram’s office that morning, she had expected the usual progress report update and an accompanying nod and good luck on the way out the door. She hadn’t expected to be reviewing seven missing women’s files, all new developments over the course of one evening.

  Whoever the hell these people were behind the abductions, they were efficient and knew how to fly under the radar. No evidence was ever left behind. It was as if the women just vanished into thin air.

  The closest the department had come in finding them had been when police answered a weapons fired call that led them out to that ranch. It was obvious what it had been used for: drugs and human trafficking. The most they’d been able to take away from the scene was some scuffed prints and muddled DNA. The local police had done such a fine job of fudging the scene that they couldn’t get a solid anything from anywhere. Even the damn tire tracks out back that disappeared into a field had somehow been tainted. It was a clusterfuck of epic proportions that still made her sick to think about.

  They’d been so close…

  Since some of the tracks around the property suggested motorcycles had been present at some time or another, and ballistics from spent shell casings that’d been collected matched a few of the gun models that were registered to half the county—which included a select few of the Spartan members—naturally they’d zeroed in on the club.

  Despite Talia’s reservations over pointing the finger too soon at the wrong people, she hated to admit that she was terrified that Tucker had been involved. It might just be a coincidence, or it might be the break they’d been hoping for, but the fact was, she’d broken it off with him last night, so she couldn’t vouch for his whereabouts at the time of the abductions.

  What she did know, however? If Tucker was in any way involved, she wouldn’t hesitate to slap the cuffs on his wrists herself.

  “I’ve already spoken to Kellerman and we agree, it’s the best way to get what we need,” Ingram continued. “We’re not making headway fast enough, and we don’t have another year to sort this out. We need results, McKinnon, and unless you have a better suggestion, this is what we’re going with.”

  She racked her brain, searching for a better solution, something safer, but Talia came up with zilch. The way she saw it, she didn’t have much choice in the matter. That didn’t mean she was happy about it, though.

  “Fine, have it your way,” she snapped, anger and pride fueling outrage she would have kept a tight lid on under different circumstances. “I hope you realize that our ‘breakup’ is going to complicate things. What am I supposed to tell him this time, that I lost my other earring?”

  Imagining herself knocking on the clubhouse door, looking up into those damnable caramel colored eyes, and lying again made her almost as physically ill as the loss of those women. She hadn’t planned on seeing Tucker again so soon, if ever. In fact, she’d been kind of hoping for a reassignment. If she could talk Ingram into putting another female agent on the case, then Talia could join surveillance.

  He hadn’t wanted to hear a word of it. Something about no time to start over, blah, blah, blah.

  “Just tell him you made a mistake. You were having a mood swing. PMS. Honestly, I don’t care what you tell him, as long as it gets you back inside.” Ingram rocked back in his chair, regarding her curiously. “Is there something else you’d like to share with me, McKinnon?”

  It was then Talia realized she’d been fiddling with her necklace, twisting the cross pendant back and forth. She dropped it like it was a hot iron. “No, Sir.”

  “You sure? I get the distinct feeling that you’re keeping something from me.”

  “No, Sir,” she replied quickly. But her guilty conscience offered up some choice memories of her and Tucker in bed, holding each other and laughing over stupid, every day stuff. It’d seemed so normal when it happened, but now it felt wrong somehow. Shameful.

  “You would tell me if you were compromised?”

  “Sir, if I thought I was compromised, I would take myself off the case. These women are important to me. I refuse to let them down.”

  His gaze lingered for a heartbeat, and then Ingram gave one sharp nod of his head. “Good, that’s exactly what I want to hear. Now go get wired up. I want results this time.”

  ***

  It was like Déjà vu. Talia stood on the clubhouse’s front stoop, staring at the rusty red slab door and mulling over the excuse she’d been working on for the last hour.

  She was going with PMS. As far as excuses went, it’d always worked for her mother, and she’d heard women she’d circulated around claim to use it from time to time to get out of sex or explain away a bad mood or their sharp tone.

  Normally, Talia would be against using something so stereotypical for gain, but she didn’t have any other ideas, and she wasn’t about to go crawling around on Tucker’s bedroom floor again. Besides, he had a hard time buying the earring crap the first time, so he certainly wasn’t going to the second time.

  Besides, being on her hands and knees wasn’t the best position if she wanted to keep the little mic the department had fit between her boobs from being seen. Even now, she was paranoid that it was showing, that it would be obvious that she was wearing one, though she knew that it was so small it was practically invisible.

  As long as she kept her clothes on, though, she’d be just fine. But if Tucker was…well, Tucker, and she managed to get back into his good graces, then the possibility of ending up naked and on her back was real.

  She never thought it would come to this, but
Talia was hoping he’d boot her ass out those chain link gates and tell her to get lost. She wasn’t up for dealing with this level of drama this early in the morning. Frankly, she didn’t think she’d ever be ready to deal with it when it came to Tucker Abrams. There was just something about the man that turned her insides to jelly and her brain to mush, and she didn’t like feeling beholden to her emotions like that. After Brock, she just didn’t trust herself to pick a good man anymore, and Tucker had one big thing going against him: he was a biker. She’d heard enough and read enough to know that the question marks hanging over every member’s head was as good as a flashing red warning sign. That she was still entertaining any warm and fuzzies over the man was concerning on many levels.

  It’s a job, she reminded herself. Just because they had chemistry didn’t mean it had to be more than that. “I’m in the driver’s seat,” she said under her breath, giving herself a little pep talk.

  With those words fresh on her lips, Talia lifted her fist and rapped it against the door a few times. Then she proceeded to stand there like a wallflower for several minutes, knocking periodically, before the door finally swung open and a woman with ratted up hair and dressed in a pair of tattered cutoff jean shorts covered in slices and holes and a men’s tank top with no bra underneath answered the door. Talia almost didn’t recognize her at first.

  “What!” Bambi bellowed, then blinked when she saw Talia. Sizing her up, she sneered. “Oh, it’s you. Country ain’t here.”

  It was the sneer that did it. Talia would recognize that sour lemon expression anywhere. “Bambi, right?” She didn’t wait for confirmation; she never forgot a face, especially one as bitchy as hers. “Do you know where he went or when he might be back?”

  Sucking her teeth, Bambi slid her hand up higher on the door, revealing a strip of freshly tanned skin and a belly button ring with a dangling pink butterfly. “Now I see why he dumped you. Should have learned the rules. Guys around here? They don’t like to be questioned.” She grinned, but there was nothing nice about her expression. “Maybe you’ll get it right next time. I’ll be sure to forget to tell him you stopped by.”