She heard him tapping on a keyboard and speaking in a low whisper, obviously concerned about waking her up.
The urge to get up and go to him was overwhelming.
But she didn’t.
She shook her head in the darkness. For them to be together they’d need more than just a mutual hatred of these monsters.
Skye listened in and picked up “Wolf’s Teeth” and “clubhouse.”
The words chilled her desire and packed it in ice, banishing all lustful thoughts from her mind.
She closed her eyes and settled back, imagining the bikers’ home base going up in a firestorm of destruction, the motorcycles burning in a heap in the middle of the compound.
Mick Smith burning to death, screaming for mercy as she stood with Robby and watched.
That thought escorted her to sleep.
…
Finn wiped his forehead as he sat in his room. The shower had removed the worst of the stink from his skin, but he suspected he’d be buying new clothing before long if he spent every night inside the Broken Spoke. He reached for his water bottle and finished off half of it in a single long gulp, grateful for the cold drink. He was thirsty and not necessarily for just water, as his thoughts cruised down the hallway to where Skye lay.
Damn, could that woman kiss.
He glanced at the open door, his grip tightening on the bottle.
No.
Mentally or physically, he wasn’t going there, not when he was still on the clock.
First on the list was sending a report to Dylan, updating him on the situation.
During the past few hours in the bar, he had managed to tag four other gang members, either by patting them on the shoulder or back while complimenting them, or tripping and falling against them. When he got back to his truck, he sent off a text to Trey that the tracers were live and he could start tracking them.
It might take a few days or even weeks, but he’d find out where the bikers worked other than the clubhouse. He was in no rush.
Now he had a new target—finding out where the Wolf’s Teeth were rendezvousing with the drivers to give them the cars. The meetings would happen away from the public eye, in a quiet, secure place where the gang would feel safe.
He put the water bottle down and finished the report.
As the laptop powered down, he glanced again at the open door, wondering if Skye was still awake.
Was she listening, wondering what he was doing?
His imagination put her in bed, awake and waiting for him to make the first move—under the sheets, naked and curled on her side, those long, lovely legs begging to be touched and caressed.
She’d expressed her willingness, shown him she was interested.
His turn.
Finn rubbed his palm against his thigh, trying to ignore the heat pooling in his groin. His black track pants, usually loose and baggy, seemed a size too small.
“Damn it,” he said aloud.
The mission came first.
He stripped down and slid between the sheets, forcing his thoughts back to the job.
The first biker he’d met and tagged had been called Jake—he hadn’t hated Finn as much as the others. He would make a good contact, one he could use to his advantage. He’d slapped Finn on the back while exiting with one of the ladies, thanking him for the tip. Right now, the gang was a driver down, and they’d be looking for a reliable civilian replacement, someone to take Robby’s place.
He wanted to be that man, no matter how dangerous it’d be.
His gaze went to the wall, imagining Skye on the other side. He would shoulder the danger because it was his job, finish it, and put Smith back into jail.
After that…
He smirked and closed his eyes.
After that, all bets were off.
Chapter Nine
Skye put her empty coffee cup in the sink. It was almost time to leave for work, and she hadn’t heard anything from the spare room since getting up that morning. It was hard to resist knocking on his door, using the excuse of checking in to see Finn before leaving.
Then he walked down the hallway and into the kitchen, and she lost her train of thought.
He wore only his jeans, otherwise barefoot and bare-chested. The whisper of day-old stubble on his chin added to his appeal, giving him a rugged look. Finn scratched his jaw, eyes still half shut, and it was easy to imagine him lying in bed, rolling over and giving her that same heavy-lidded smile after a night of serious lovemaking.
She bit down on her tongue, remembering her naughty thoughts of the previous evening.
Finn nodded. “Hoped I’d catch you before you left. Got some work today?”
“I’ve got another shift at the diner before doing some late-night cleaning at the real estate offices, so I’ll be popping in and out, plus visiting Robby.” She glanced at the calendar stuck on the refrigerator door. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. I’ll be picking up the usual shift from the Watleys, minding the store for them while they go to church. Eight until noon.”
“That’s a lot of work at a whole lot of different places.” Finn took down a coffee mug and poured himself a cup. “Can’t you find steady full-time work?”
“Not around here.” She fought to keep her tone light. “It’s been that way for years. Businesses come and go, and it’s easier for a lot of them to hire more part-time workers than full-time. So I gather up my shifts, and in the end, they add up to forty hours or more, depending on the week.”
“Rough way to live.” Finn reached over and squeezed her hand. “You’re one tough lady, Skye Harris.”
She tried not to dwell on the loss she felt when he released her hand. “And you? What’s on your schedule for the day?”
He paused, and Skye suspected he was measuring how much to reveal to her. “A number of things. Last night I tagged a couple of bikers with GPS trackers, courtesy of Trey.”
She frowned. “What? Why?”
“Because while I know where their clubhouse is, I don’t know where they’re stashing the heroin.” He gestured at the wall with his mug. “Most gangs, the smart ones at least, don’t keep their drugs in the same place they hang out in. Too easy for the cops to raid and too tempting to the members to sample the goods. So, there’s got to be another location where they’re taking the cars that people drive back. Then they pull them apart and retrieve the heroin stashed inside. Then they cut it with filler and start splitting it up into smaller, more portable packets for their local dealers.”
She nodded.
“We’re trying to find those locations by tracking the gang members. At some point, they’re going to go to the warehouse.” He picked up his cell phone from where it lay on the table. “Next, we need to find where they’re meeting the drivers with the cars. Smart operation like this wouldn’t have taken your brother into their secret garage to let him drive out with a car full of cash, much less drive the loaded car right back to the same spot. Mick Smith may be a prime time jerk but he’s not stupid. He’s using the most efficient way he can to get the drugs in and out of town, running a “need to know” operation.”
Skye pressed her lips together to hold back the flash of anger. “Mick Smith would strap cash and drugs to a pregnant woman’s belly if he needed to.”
“He might.” Finn acknowledged. “But it’s not a good way to run a business. They’re not bringing the heroin back to their clubhouse, and I need to find out where they are taking it.”
“Then what? You take more pretty pictures using some of your high-tech toys? You know it’s never going to be enough to get them convicted. They’ll slide through like they’ve done so far.” Skye snapped, giving in to her anger. “I did my research while I was sitting in the hospital room, waiting to hear if my brother was alive or dead. People like this don’t go to jail. They bribe, bully, or beat up anyone in the way of what they want. Including the police, lawyers, and prosecutors.” She turned the water on in the sink with a violent yank on the faucet, sending it spewing into
her empty cup.
Finn waited to speak until she’d turned off the water. “When we take them down, we’ll go straight to the Feds and give them Smith and the gang all gift-wrapped and ready to go. We’ve got good people behind this—it’ll stick.”
She shook her head, unwilling to let him comfort her. “I’m sorry. I’m just not ready to accept that you can make it happen. You’ve got the connections; you can get the weapons. Why not blow it all to hell? Start with the clubhouse and take out their garages, take out their drug hideouts. Let it burn with or without them inside. I don’t care.”
He stared at her, and she knew she’d pushed him too far.
“I came to clean up the town and put the gang out of business. If I do my job right, no one dies and the bad guys go to jail.” He cleared his throat. “Believe me, I know about revenge. But right now, you focus on Robby and leave the rest to me.”
She shook her head, the anger draining away. “I’m sorry. I just can’t imagine a life without my brother.”
Finn came closer, his soft smile banishing the last of the darkness from her mind.
He stroked her cheek, the simple touch soothing her jangled nerves. “Then let’s make sure you don’t have to.”
Chapter Ten
His first stop was the clubhouse, parking far down the street and using binoculars to zoom in on the front gate. He could have studied the feed coming in from the drone still sitting pretty on the roof, but he’d learned the hard way that the best data, the most reliable data, was best done in person.
It was still early in the morning, but the bikers were active, standing around the compound and smoking cigarettes while drinking coffee out of cardboard take-out cups.
The interaction with Skye was still fresh in his mind, pushing everything else out.
The woman was damned complicated.
A loud screeching of metal on metal brought him out of his reverie and back to the present.
He peered through the binoculars at the building half a block away. Another small group of bikers was at the gate, revving their engines as they waited to be let through. A pickup truck tailed the group, pulling up to the curb.
Finn noted the man standing in the compound, having come out from the garage. He matched the physical profile with the image Trey had pulled up.
Mick Smith.
There was no doubt he was the alpha dog, his swagger and attitude affecting everyone around him. The man wore a dark T-shirt and jeans, his leather vest tight on his shoulders. He barked orders to the men unloading bottles of alcohol and water, along with what looked like motorcycle parts, from the back of the pickup.
The light gleamed off the man’s bald head as he swung a riding crop around, swatting members he thought were going too slow. The men scurried to obey him, carrying in spare tires and boxes filled with chrome and metal.
Finn watched, mentally taking notes. Smith wasn’t a large man, but what he lacked in bulk and strength he made up for volume and rage. Spittle flew from his lips, sticking to his goatee as he berated an unfortunate member, cursing and swearing.
It was easy to imagine him beating Robby Harris to the edge of death.
Finn’s cell phone rang, interrupting his mental exercises.
He studied the caller ID before hitting the button.
“Trey.”
“Good morning, sunshine.” Trey yawned. “Don’t tell Dylan, but Jessie can’t make coffee worth shit.”
Finn grinned, feeling some of the tension lift from his shoulders. “You think I’m suicidal? I don’t get how she messes it up—it says right on the machine, one scoop and all that. Yet somehow it becomes damned turpentine.”
“I just gave Patrick the whole carafe to help clean out an engine. Still, it cleared my mind enough to run over the data. The trackers are live and feeding us back info. I don’t have enough yet to give you an idea of where they’re going. The bikers you tagged have only had them on for a few hours, and they’re all over the place, wandering into apartment buildings and stores, looking like ants trying to find a picnic.”
Finn peered through his binoculars. “Smith runs a tight ship. Just caught him beating one of his own people, and not in a good, fun way.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised. He didn’t strike me as a man given to talking things out.”
“Cursing might be the best you get before he knocks you cold.” Finn looked toward the headquarters. He watched a pair of bikers leave, their engines loud and snarling as they spun out of the compound. “I’m going to hang around here for a bit longer, see what I can see. After that, try to run down where they’re meeting up with the drivers.”
“Just be careful,” Trey warned. “I’ll call if I have any new info.”
The screen went black. Finn put the binoculars down and stretched out his arms, feeling the muscles ache.
Touching Skye this morning had stirred up another ache, fired up his desire for her.
The sadness in her gaze had almost broken his self-resolve. He’d wanted nothing more than to sweep her up in his arms and take her to bed, send all her angry thoughts about the Wolf spiraling away with hours of hot sweet loving.
But it would only be a temporary solution, albeit damned fantastic for both of them.
The only way to solve it permanently was to finish his mission. Put Smith down and put him down hard.
He sighed and focused on Smith swaggering around the compound, swinging his riding crop.
…
Skye’s skin crawled every time she walked by the biker in the waiting room, like a thousand tiny spiders were swarming over her. It was hard not to stare at him now that Finn had pointed him out. Every time the man shifted position, changed chairs to get a better view of the hallway or refresh his drink, she wanted to walk up and punch him, tell him to get the hell away from her brother and go back to the Wolf to tell him he was about to be destroyed.
But she couldn’t—at least, not yet.
Ace was on duty this time, standing by the window as she entered.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Fine.” He peeked out through the blinds. “Never hurts to take a look around, see what’s happening outside.”
“Shouldn’t we talk to someone about the biker in the waiting room?” She kept her voice calm. “He’s just sitting there.”
He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “You want I should go roust him? Maybe toss him out the window?”
“I’d like that quite a bit.”
“So would I.” He grinned back. “Except that’s not an option. Believe me, I’d love nothing better than to go stick my cowboy boots so far up his ass he’d be tasting leather, but it’s not the right time for that.” He came over to her. “We’ll move on him when it is. Until then, you stay away from him.”
Now it was her turn to give him a glare, annoyed at his dominant tone. “Excuse me?”
“You leave him to us. You focus on Robby.” Ace went to the door. “Anything happens to you, I’ll be answering to Finn, and the man’s got one hell of a temper. I’ll be in the hall.”
Before she could respond, he walked out.
Anger flared up, quickly tempered by the realization that Ace and Wyatt thought there was something going on between her and Finn. Obviously, Finn had given that impression.
Progress, in a way.
Skye settled herself next to the hospital bed. She brushed a piece of dark hair out of Robby’s eyes.
“Sorry about being late,” she said, picking up his limp hand. “I had coffee with a man this morning. Finn. I’ve talked about him before.” She imagined Robby’s scowl. “Don’t get all grumpy with me. You’ve had your share of girlfriends, and I’ve had to sit through plenty of your ramblings and rantings. I never gave you a hard time about any of them.” She waited for his hand to twitch, for any sign of a response. “Finn told me he’s gone through something like this. His mother. Long story short, some damned doctor got her hooked on pain pills and she ended up dead.”
> She checked the IV drip, making sure it was flowing. “He came back and was so angry that he hunted down the dealer. Turned out to be his old buddy.” She sighed. “I wish I knew who put you onto this. I might not beat him to a pulp, but I sure as hell would come close.”
She imagined her brother answering. “Don’t start with me. I’m your sister. We’ll get through this.” Skye reached over and touched Robby’s cheek. “Don’t worry. Finn’s on the job, and I have faith in him. I believe he’s going to make sure Smith never hurts anyone ever again.”
She glanced toward the waiting room, and it took a concentrated effort to keep her voice below a shout. “Never again.”
…
Finn stared at his cell phone, studying the live feed from the clubhouse. Nothing concrete had come through yet from the tagged members, no clear lead to their secondary base of operations.
Time to do some tracking of his own.
He turned the phone off, put the truck in gear, and headed out onto the highway, trying to put himself in Robby’s shoes.
Okay. You’ve driven down to Mexico, met with some sleazy dealers who have stuffed your borrowed car full of drugs. Now you’ve got to bring it back to the gang and collect your money without getting picked up by the cops.
Where would you end up?
Finn drove away from Whispering Willows, headed south on the main highway. After two hours, he stopped for gas and turned around. He began the trip back in the slow lane, minding the speed limit.
It was unlikely this was the exact same route Robby had taken, but it’d have to do for his simulation.
He checked the side mirrors, keeping an eye out for any police, as Robby would have.
Don’t do anything to alert the cops. Don’t speed, don’t give any reason for them to pull you over. Calm and collected, slow and steady wins the race. You’re thinking about your sister. You’re already planning which debts you’ll pay off first. You’ve spent the money three times over, and that’s okay. You’re going to do this a few more times until everything’s evened out.
Finn studied the upcoming exits. Only one was coming up for Whispering Willows, advertising the various restaurants in the area, including the Lucky Dollar.
Hard Run Page 7
