Wicked Ride

by Rebecca Zanetti

  Donning them, Lex gingerly lifted the corpse’s eyelids. Red, blue, and green striations shot out from sightless blue eyes. Blood pooled beneath his eyes, in his ears, and dripped out of his nose. She released him and stood. “Definitely an Apollo overdose. Do we know where he got the drugs?”

  “No.” Bernie pointed back to the main street. “Known drug neighborhood. Can buy on any corner. We’re canvasing right now, but in this area? Nobody saw nothin’.”

  She shucked the gloves and then rubbed her eye. “Do we have an ID?”

  “Fingerprint scanner shows the vic as Jon Flank. He’s done time for dealing, possession, and minor B and E. DMV says he lives alone around the corner. We had patrol knock on the door. Nobody answered.”

  Sounded like a normal junkie. Sad but true.

  A chill swept down her back, and she looked around. Nothing. Lifting her head, she peered at the tops of the nearby buildings.

  “What?” Bernie asked, glancing up.

  “Nothing. Just somebody walking on my grave.” A car door slammed, and she turned around. “Great,” she muttered as two homicide cops strode her way.

  Bernie snorted. “Dumbass and Dickhead in the flesh.”

  She smiled. Most cops, she liked. Hell, she liked them a lot. These two? Not so much. She lifted her head. “Masterson? What are you doing here?”

  Detective Donny Masterson slicked back his already slicked back hair and peered down at her with light blue eyes. “The brass wants results, and even in those very nice dresses you’ve been wearing lately, you’re not getting anywhere. We’re here to help.” His navy blue suit probably cost more than she made in a month, and he wore it pressed to within an inch of its life.

  “Don’t need your help,” Bernie growled.

  “Right.” Masterson’s partner, a blond surfer type named Bud Bundt, sighed and eyed Daisy’s ass as she bent over to examine the asphalt. “Too bad you’re not wearing one of those dresses right now, Lex.” He turned and focused on her tits.

  “You’re both such dicks,” Lex sighed, turning to her partner. Unfortunately, they were dicks with an impressive arrest record.

  Bernie nodded. “Obviously compensating for something.”

  Lex snorted and nodded at Daisy. “Let’s get out of here, Bernie.” Her mind ran as they exited the alley. “We can’t do much until we receive the ME’s report.” Reaching the main street, she glanced down both sides of the darkened road. Empty. Everyone out had scampered the second the police lights showed up. “We’re not gonna find his dealer tonight.”

  “No. How about we hit known associates tomorrow?” Bernie opened her door. “Get some grub, get some sleep, and we’ll go hard tomorrow.”

  She frowned. “I might head to the station and start a search.”

  “No. We’ve been on for almost twenty-four hours, and you need a little shut-eye. And makeup.” He grinned and slammed her door, ambling away toward his car.

  She chuckled. Oh yeah. She’d washed her face and had forgotten to even apply lip-gloss. Her eyes felt gritty and her temples ached. Maybe a little sleep wouldn’t hurt. She ignited her engine and drove slowly through emergency vehicles, stopping at the corner.

  Her passenger door flew open, and Kellach Dunne dropped into the front seat. She reached for her gun, and he placed a hard-boned hand over hers.

  He smiled, dark eyes unfathomable in the moonlight. “Evening, Detective.”

  Chapter 7

  Kell kept his hand over Alexandra’s as she decided whether or not to fight for the gun. He didn’t much want to get shot, even though he’d survive any normal bullet. He peered closer at her pale skin. Sans the makeup, the woman looked about eighteen. A fine blue vein pulsed at her temple, and her hand trembled under his. The detective needed sleep and probably a good meal.

  “When was the last time you ate something?” he asked quietly.

  She blinked those stunning blue eyes at him. “None of your business.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Blast but the woman needed a bloody keeper. He sat back, figuring if she shot him, she’d have to deal with more paperwork than she wanted so near to dawn. “You choose the place, and I’ll buy you an early breakfast.” Or later dinner. Either way, the sexy cop wasn’t going to waste away on his watch.

  Not that he was watching.

  Of course he was watching. Alexandra was beautiful and didn’t know it. Add in a stubborn chin, sharp intellect, and what appeared to be a nearly obsessive drive to solve crime? Yeah. He was hooked. Even without the feminine pull drawing him like never before, the woman intrigued him.

  “I’m not hungry,” she ground out, her hand moving from her weapon to the steering wheel.

  Irritation lifted his chin. “Ah, darlin’. Last time you lied to me, you orgasmed. Are you going for another one?”

  If he’d expected to shock her, he failed. She slowly turned toward him and lifted a shoulder. “Wasn’t good enough to do again.”

  He smiled, amusement filtering through him. God, she was something. He’d felt the power of a good orgasm move through her, and then she’d been weak as a kitten for a few moments after she’d come. He knew it was good. “Breakfast, and I’ll tell you everything I know about Apollo.”

  Her lips tightened into a line, and she hit the gas pedal.

  Yeah. He’d figured out she wouldn’t be able to pass on such an offer.

  A small smile hovered around her mouth, and he gazed, curious. Just what was she up to? Good thing he was a patient man and had no problem waiting to find out. He settled into the seat, allowing the scent of woman to tease his senses. He rolled her scent around his tongue. Violets. Sweet and wild, just like they grew along the hillsides he’d roamed as a boy.

  Her eyes were so blue as to be nearly violet as well. Should’ve been her name. But, no. She’d been named Alexandra; a warrior’s name. How could somebody so delicate be a warrior?

  It was a true pity she wasn’t an enhanced human. What would she be like mated to a witch and therefore immortal? Powerful and sexy as hell. His jeans tightened, and he shifted to ease the sudden pressure in his groin. While he might be attracted to her, he wasn’t looking for a mate, anyway. Especially one who wore a gun and appeared all right with shooting him.

  He cleared his throat to stop his rioting thoughts. “My cousin ran a background check on you, and she shared a little bit of it with me. About your father.”

  Alexandra stiffened. “Your cousin needs to be punched.”

  “Simone was doing her job as my attorney, and believe me, you don’t want to punch her.” Kell bit back a smile. He’d taught Simone to fight dirty centuries ago, and even a trained cop wouldn’t stand a chance. “Is your father still in prison?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you in contact?” More than anything, Kell wanted to tuck her close and hold her tight.

  “Of course not.” She sighed and cut him a sideways look. “My dad was a bad guy, he hurt my mom, and he’s dead to me. Enough said.”

  Yeah, that told him more than enough. “Who protects you?” he murmured.

  Her head jerked to the side. “I protect myself, dumbass.”

  He shook his head, not having meant to speak out loud. “And you protect your sister?” It was just a guess.

  “Yes.” Alexandra pulled the battered car into a parking lot near an all-night diner. A fluorescent sign proclaimed the place as BETTY’S, but one of the T’s was burned out. Rain fell over the sign and splattered the sidewalk. Kell figured Alexandra wouldn’t wait for him to open her door, so once she’d shut off the engine, he grasped her arm and tugged her out his side. She struggled, and he gentled his hold so as not to bruise her, safely depositing her outside the car and under a ripped awning.

  “I’m stronger than you,” he said mildly.

  “I have a gun,” she returned before pivoting and heading into the dismal restaurant.

  God, she was stubborn. He shut the car door and followed her inside to a cracked and ripped somewhat peach-
colored booth in the back. When she would’ve sat facing the door, he quickly took her arm and assisted her to sit across the booth, so he could face the entrance.

  She scowled as he sat across from her. “I prefer to face the door.”

  As did he. Considering he was a hell of a lot more dangerous than she was, he would keep watch. “Oh, sorry. This side is ripped, and I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Are you being a snob?”

  “By saving your sweet ass from a dangerous booth?” He grinned, truly enjoying the color sliding across her too-pale face. “You don’t know me, darlin’.”

  “No, but you definitely have money.” She eyed his leather jacket. “I’ve seen your bike.”

  “Aye.” Money was just money—unless one didn’t have any. “I work hard.”

  She lifted her chin. “As an enforcer for a motorcycle club that runs drugs and guns? Blood money.”

  An enforcer for the Coven Nine made excellent wages, and it was rarely tinged with blood, although that was a distinct possibility sometimes. “I do what I have to do.” He paused as an elderly waitress in bright pink shuffled up in geriatric shoes to plunk down two sweating water glasses.

  She smiled cracked teeth. “Lexi, you sweetheart. How have you been?”

  “Great, Frankie.” A genuine smile lifted Alexandra’s lips.

  Kell paused, intrigued. Gentleness filled Alexandra’s eyes, and he wanted that look. For him.

  Frankie turned faded eyes on Kell. “You’re a handsome one, now aren’t you?”

  He smiled and fought the urge to scoot over and ask the lady to sit. “You’re a looker, yourself.”

  She twittered and patted him with a gnarled hand on his shoulder. “Charmer.” She glanced at Alexandra. “How’s your mama?”

  Alexandra stilled, her smile seeming more forced. “Wonderful. Having a marvelous time.”

  “That’s good, but we sure miss her around here.” Frankie nodded, her gaze softening. “You’re a good girl, Lexi. Want the usual?”

  “Yep. For both of us,” Alexandra said.

  Frankie nodded and lumbered away.

  “Come here often?” Kell asked.

  “Yes.” She cupped her water glass with both hands.

  “Where’s your mama?” he asked, trying to read her expression, wishing those slender hands were on him instead.

  She leaned back, hands going to her lap as she met his gaze. “Tell me about Apollo.”

  “Tell you what”—he drummed his fingers on the table—“we’ll take turns answering questions. That’s only fair. Lexi”.

  She blinked. “You first.”

  Did she play chess? He’d have to find out. “Apollo is a drug reduced to liquid form and injected. A quarter to a half dose gives the taker feelings of euphoria verging on godlike. A full dose does the same and then melts the user’s internal organs.”

  “What is in it? We’ve never found a sample, and the drug is absorbed into the body upon death, so even autopsies don’t help,” she said.

  He shrugged. “We don’t know yet, either.”

  She narrowed her gaze but didn’t challenge his lie. “Where is it from?” she asked.

  “Where’s your mother?” he returned evenly.

  Her chin lifted. “Bakerston’s Rehabilitation Home in western Seattle. Now, where’s the drug from?”

  “Initially? I think Russia, but I don’t have confirmation of that yet.” He could afford to give her that much.

  She tilted her head to the side. “Why not?”

  “We just merged with Fire, and we aren’t privy to all the information.” He sat back.

  “But I thought you supplied the drugs, and they supply the guns.” She twirled her water glass around.

  He smiled. “You jumped to conclusions.”

  She squinted, disbelief filling her eyes. “I don’t trust you.”

  “Nor should you. Why is your mother in a home?”

  Alexandra sighed. “She has Multiple Sclerosis, and right now is having a difficult time. She usually gets better and then can live either with me or on her own until the next flare up. Right now, she requires extra care, and she’s getting it.”

  Ah, what a sweetheart. “That type of home is costly.”

  “Yes. Yes, it is.” Alexandra shook her head. “Who’s making Apollo?”

  “Dunno.” Kell gave in to temptation and reached for her hand. Small boned, slender, very smooth skin. “Why are you a cop, darlin’? Is it because your father dealt drugs?” She couldn’t atone for the sins of her father.

  She shook her head and then leaned back when Frankie deposited large plates in front of them.

  Kell glanced down at eggs, bacon, and hash browns, cooked perfectly into a heart attack on a plate. The delicious aroma made his stomach growl. He glanced up at Alexandra to catch her quick smile.

  “You figured oatmeal?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Something like that.” Reaching for utensils, he happily dug in. Much better than pizza. They ate in silence for quite a while with a temporary peace easing around them. “So, why a cop?” he asked finally.

  “You didn’t answer about the origin of Apollo,” she returned, sitting back with a sigh.

  “Because I don’t know.” God, if he never ate again, he’d be content. “That was delicious.”

  She reached for her back pocket.

  “No.” His voice rumbled out harsher than he’d intended.

  She paused. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m paying.” Cop or no, he wouldn’t allow her to buy. Slipping a credit card from his wallet, he handed it to Frankie as she passed. Apparently the waitress agreed with him because she ignored Alexandra’s attempt to hand over a card.

  Alexandra sat back and frowned. “I can’t let a known criminal buy me breakfast.”

  “How known?” He leaned toward her. “You’ve surely run me as well as contacted the garda in Ireland. I have no record.”

  She pursed her lips. “The Irish authorities haven’t responded as of yet.”

  He wanted more than anything to kiss those full lips back into surrender. “I’ll give them a call and tell them to hurry it up.” He grinned.

  She chuckled. “You are so full of it.”

  Actually, he could have Interpol vouch for him if he just asked. Of course, that’d break his cover. “Trust me a little, Alexandra.”

  “Absolutely not. You definitely don’t add up.” She crossed her arms. “Why did you meet with Bear the other day?”

  “Bear is a good guy,” Kellach said, choosing his words carefully. “My family and his go way back.”

  “Bear is from Ireland?” Alexandra leaned in. “Seriously?”

  Kell shook his head. “No, Bear is from here. But he does have distant cousins across the ocean.” Well, kind of.

  “So it was personal and not business?” She narrowed her gaze and studied him.

  “Yes.” He captured her hand and tugged her toward him.

  “Does Pyro know you’re meeting with Bear?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Hell no. When you look at me like that, I want nothing more than to strip you naked and kiss you senseless. You screaming my name would please me greatly.”

  Her lips formed a perfect O of surprise, while a blush filled her high cheekbones. “You’re terrible.”

  “I bet I could change your mind on that score.” He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. The woman was sexy and sweet and certainly didn’t belong undercover in seedy Seattle bars. “Are you continuing your undercover operations?”

  “Why?” She yanked her hand away. “Am I cramping your organization?”

  Feisty little temper she had. He wanted to turn that passion in another direction.

  “Obviously not.” He accepted the receipt from Frankie and quickly dashed off his signature with a generous tip. His curiosity wasn’t quite appeased with Alexandra, however, and he wondered if he could get her to stay awhile.

  The door o
pened, and three men walked inside. His head pounded. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

  Chapter 8

  Lex blinked as Kellach’s expression went from heated to stone-cold. A shiver slithered down her back, and she turned to see who had caught his frosty attention.

  Three men stared back at Kellach. One appeared to be in his thirties with black hair, light eyes, and a true fighting shape. An odd streak of gray cut a swath through his hair.

  The other two men were about twenty, both tall and broad and with dark hair. The nearest one grinned what could only be a smartass smile.

  Kell rose from the booth and went straight for the men. Oddly enough¸ the younger two instantly flanked the older one in a protective move. The older one shoved them both back with a low growl.

  A real growl?

  She scooted out of the booth.

  “Stay there, Alexandra,” Kell ordered, his back to her.

  Oh, hell no. She shoved free and walked up behind him, her hand resting near her gun. If something was happening, she couldn’t let Frankie or the other few patrons get hurt. “Kellach? Who are your friends?” As she neared the four hulking men, she was reminded of her smaller stature. These guys were all huge and cut hard. Who were they?

  The older one glanced down at her hand and then back up with a smooth smile. “Detective Monzelle? I’m Dage.”

  How did he know her name?

  Kell stepped in front of her. “King, now isn’t the time.”

  King? Was he a member of a motorcycle club? That would explain the nickname.

  Dage sidestepped Kell and held out a hand. “It is a pleasure.”

  She shook his hand while eying the other two men.

  Dage nodded. “My nephews Garrett and Logan. They’re prospects for Titans of Fire.” He gestured first to the smiling young man. Square features, way too handsome, intelligent eyes behind what appeared to be light-refracting glasses. The second kid was just as big, with ancient-looking green eyes. The kid had definitely seen some shit.

  “Oh, hell no,” Kell said, his powerful shoulders shooting back. “I have enough going on without worrying about Kayrs and Kyllwood progeny. Take your boys and go home, King.”

  Garrett’s smart-ass grin slid from his face, and he stepped forward. “Watch how you talk to the king, enforcer.”