by Diana Gardin
“Do you want to explain that?”
She shakes her head, dark hair flying around her shoulders. “You said one question. I answered. Now it’s my turn.”
Biting down the irritation at not being able to learn what I want to about her, I nod. “Okay. Go ahead.”
She stares out the window for a minute, watching the scenery around us change from glamorous and chic to run-down and seedy. I’m approaching the end of town where warehouses stand unobstructed, where cement and gravel lots stretch endlessly from block to block. There’s no one out walking around, which lets you know that no one should be.
This is where Wilmington’s shadiest come to play.
We’re only a few minutes away from our destination when she speaks, and I pull off the main drag and onto a side street.
“What makes you laugh?”
My left hand tightens on the steering wheel as a frown ghosts across my face. I stay silent as I pull the Bugatti off the street and into a driveway. I stop in front of four grimy, glass-paneled garage doors. The dingy sign above the shop reads HAWKE’S.
That would be Brandon Hawke, Indigo’s CI.
Brandon Hawke owns the garage in the warehouse district where people who have something to hide bring their cars. The cops turn a blind eye to Hawke because of his relationship as a CI with Indigo. According to my new partner, Hawke has helped bring down drug dealers, smugglers, and thieves. But now he’s been roped into a luxury car theft ring run by his first cousin. His cousin expects utter loyalty from Hawke, and the mechanic thought he had no way out.
Until Indigo convinced him to flip.
The garage door directly in front of me rolls skyward, exposing the gritty concrete floor and dimly lit interior beyond.
“Here we go,” I murmur as I push the car forward inch by inch until we’re fully cloaked under the cover of the garage.
Stepping out of the car, my car doors slams a second before Indigo’s. I take in my surroundings immediately, every skill I’ve acquire and honed over the years working overtime as I’m immersed in this unfamiliar situation.
Sights.
The garage is a rat hole, a dilapidated building with wear and tear. The dull, concrete floors are stained with years of new and old grease. The cinder-block walls in the wide space might have once been white but now were a steely gray. The ceiling hangs lower than it probably should, with wooden rafters hung with fluorescent bulbs that give the space shallow waves of watery light. The space is wide and goes back farther than I would have expected from the outside of the building.
And sitting, three cars deep inside the garage, are nine gleaming luxury cars of several makes and models.
Smells.
Beside me, Indigo’s fresh scent wafts toward my nostrils and mixes with the smell of rubber, sweat, and oil. None of it is unexpected, but it’s definitely not pleasant, either.
Sounds.
The first thing I notice is the absence of the usual sounds you’d find in an auto mechanic’s shop. There’s no whirring, grinding, or banging of tools. The quiet is almost eerie, and my head swivels as I make sure both my back and Indigo’s are covered.
If I didn’t already know exactly what we were walking into, my instincts would be screaming at me that something’s off.
But I already know that nothing here is right. We’re walking into a lion’s den, hands out with an offering of peace. My only hope is that we don’t become the lambs, fit for a slaughter.
My eyes flick toward the sound of footsteps approaching.
Two sets. From the right.
A split second later, two men appear from the office and waiting area just off the garage bay. Similar in coloring and features, the first difference I notice is that one man has a few inches height and a slimmer build than his slightly shorter counterpart. Both men appear to be in their early thirties, but the taller one has hair buzzed on the sides and back, but the top is long enough for him to pull it into a dark-blond ponytail. The man standing beside him has darker hair, all buzzed close to his head.
Without hesitation, the taller man strides forward and wraps Indigo up into a tight hug, lifting her off the ground. I physically stop myself from reacting, forcing my hands to remain relaxed at my sides instead of balling into fists as I hold my expression in a neutral position.
Watching him pull Indigo against his chest, watching her willingly meld against him…it sends a spark of something deeper than annoyance through my gut.
“GoGo…It’s good to see you, baby girl.”
I’ve figured out this man’s name by the way he greets Indigo and from his use of the cover identity we’ve established, along with the fact that he’s wearing coveralls with HAWKE stitched into the front chest pocket.
This is Brandon Hawke, Indigo’s CI.
My gaze lands on the other man, the one I’m assuming is his cousin. I’m looking at the head of the car theft ring.
Indigo makes a sound I never even thought possible coming from her mouth.
She squeals.
“Hawke! It’s so good to see you, babe!”
He places her back on her feet, and she stretches up on the toes of her black leather boots to kiss him on the mouth.
My stomach turns sour.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Get your shit together, Snyder.
This time I don’t bother trying to keep the fists from forming. She is supposed to be my girl, right?
I step up beside her, my expression made of iron.
Grabbing hold of her hand, I yank her to my side. The soft escape of breath from Indigo as my arm wraps possessively around her waist makes my cock swell inside my jeans.
It’s not the first time she’s affected me like this, but I push down the wonderings and go with the rush of masculine competition swirling around inside my head.
For all intents and purposes, this woman is mine. They’ll know, and they’ll know right fucking now.
“Hawke,” she says, her voice breathier than normal as she leans into my side. Her body molds to mine. Her soft, lush tits brush against my rib cage, and the feeling electrifies every inch of my body with a zing I can’t explain. “This is my man, Logan. We brought a present for you.”
There’s nothing in Hawke’s eyes to signify that he would know me as anything other than the name Indigo’s just given him. He eyes me, his gaze careful and assessing.
But before he can speak, the other man steps forward. His obvious bulk, solid beside his cousin’s leaner frame, is meant to intimidate me as he steps too close. The calculated smirk on his face is evident as he skips introductions.
“What kind of present?” Eli glances at the Bugatti, actual lust in his eyes, before directing his gaze back at me and keeping it there.
I don’t answer him, allowing silence to stretch between us as we eye one another.
“Forgive my cousin. He wasn’t raised with the same kinda manners I was. GoGo, Logan…meet my cousin, Eli Ward. E, this is the girl I told you about. Growing up, she was always tagging along with me and her big brother around the way. It’s been a while, baby girl.”
The fond expression in Brandon’s eyes can’t be faked. He actually cares about her, even if the whole cover story is a lie.
Finally breaking my gaze, Eli’s eyes flick back to the Bugatti. “It looks like we have business to discuss. Let’s head back to the office, yeah?”
Without waiting for us to agree, he turns and strides away. Keeping Indigo melded to my side, I follow behind him. The skin at the back of my neck prickles when Hawke falls into step behind us.
Feeling like we’re boxed in, even though I know Hawke is supposed to be playing for our team, is making my skin crawl.
The feeling intensifies when we cross the garage bay and exit a back door. As we enter what seems to be an office and lounge area, my back teeth snap together at the sight of two more men flanking the door. Eli nods to them as he passes, but one of the men steps in front of the entrance before allowing me and Indigo to step thr
ough.
“No heat past his point.” The man’s voice is tight, controlled. The serious expression on his face mixed with the size of him, rivaling my own six-foot-one inches of trained muscle, lets me know there’s no way around this.
Reaching into the back of my jeans, I pull my Glock free and hand it over.
I glance at Indigo and then swallow thickly as she bends at the waist and slowly extracts her handgun from an ankle holster inside her boot.
Her tight, toned legs make my mouth water.
She pats the guard’s chest as she passes by him. “You take all the fun out of things, don’t you?”
Her full, red lips are puffed out in an exaggerated pout, and I somehow refrain from an eye roll, even as my body reacts to the sex appeal rolling off her in waves right now.
If it came down to it, no man in his right fucking mind could resist her. And she knows it.
I watch as both men’s eyes rake up and down her body as she disappears inside the doorway.
With a silent prayer to the heavens that this all goes our way, I follow.
8
INDIGO
I glance around the room, knowing that Lawson and I have everything to prove here. I’m snuggled up to his side on a small sofa, while Eli, Hawke, and one other man we haven’t been introduced to are scattered around the room in chairs. I’ve already seen the piece Eli carries at his hip. And I’d be willing to bet that Hawke and the other man are strapped too. The two at the entrance have their own guns plus the ones they took from us.
I’m armed with a long, thin blade strapped to my thigh, and Lawson’s armed with his own skill. I’ve seen the man train; the SEAL’s no joke when it comes to taking someone down with his own two hands. I want to bet on us, but the odds aren’t in our favor.
This meeting needs to go smoothly. We need to convince Eli we’re here to get a piece of the action, not to bring him down.
Having Hawke on our side helps, because he’s the first one to speak. “They’re cool, E. I can vouch.”
Eli cuts his gaze toward his cousin before it flicks back to me. Dark, piercing eyes. Shrewd.
Eli’s eyes settle on me. His slow perusal starts from my boots up my legs, resting momentarily on the cleavage visible through the gap in my leather jacket, before finally meeting my face. But there’s no lust-driven leer there. Only cold, calculating interest. He wants to know why I’m here, what I can do for him.
Not in the bedroom. But for his bottom line.
At least, that’s his first priority. But the interest in his gaze tells me he wouldn’t kick me out of bed.
I haven’t failed to notice there are no women visible in this operation. I’m like chum swimming in the water with sharks.
Suddenly, I’m damn glad I have Lawson at my side.
It’s the first time I’ve ever felt that way about a partner. I don’t know what it is about Lawson, but something is starting to make me trust him.
And, if I’m being honest, something about the primal way he pulled me to him back in the garage made me breathless and weak in the knees. Another feeling I’ve never had.
But right now, I don’t have time to evaluate it.
“What’s the problem, Eli?” I sneer. “You don’t like money? We can take our delivery elsewhere, if you’re not interested.”
Eli leans forward, his elbows resting on his jeans-clad thighs. “Why should I work with you? You might have noticed, I’ve already got product to move. You think I need yours?”
Lawson speaks up, his voice quiet but commanding the attention of the room. “Yeah. I do. None of those cars out there is a Bugatti. It’ll bring in twice what your best car out there will get you. Like my lady said, though…if you don’t want it, we’re out. No skin off our noses.”
“Except for the trouble we went through to lift it.” I roll my eyes. “Look, you won’t find anyone else like us out there, not in this market. Logan and I are the best. We never make mistakes, and we’re fast. Add us to your payroll and it’ll be the smartest decision you’ve ever made.”
Hawke chuckles, leaning back in his seat and throwing an arm over the empty chair beside him. “I’m tellin’ you, cuz. You can trust her. She knows what the fuck she’s doing.”
Silence drips down around us as Eli evaluates the situation. When he finally speaks, the tension in the room dissipates with his words. “Yeah. We’ll try you out. We’ll take the Bugatti and give you another assignment. You fuck up, you’re not only out. No one in my crew fucks up and keeps breathing. Are we clear?”
I lean back and cross my legs, the picture of relaxation, my skin heating when Lawson’s hand settles firmly on my thigh and smooths against my quickly heating skin. “Yeah. No problem. What’s our cut?”
“Twenty.”
“That’s bullshit. We get thirty-five.” I keep my tone even, like I conduct these kinds of negotiations all the time.
Eli’s face stretches into a nasty grin. “You get twenty-five. Prove yourself worthy, and we’ll talk about raising your percentage, sugar.”
Beside me, Lawson goes stiff. “Call her sugar again, and I start busting asses.”
Hawke chuckles again, and Eli’s smile widens. “I think I’m gonna like you two. You’re entertaining as fuck.”
“So here we are.”
Lawson gently sets my duffel bag on the floor, his long, solid frame folding down onto the couch beside me.
I glance around our furnished apartment, wondering what the hell has just happened to my life. It’s like I took a pickax to everything I used to know.
“Yeah.” I swallow, leaning back against the cushions, my eyes sweeping around our furnished apartment. “Home sweet home.”
“Did you have thoughts about what it would be like?” A tiny smile tugs at Lawson’s lips. “The two of us, sharing a space like this together?”
A bubble of laughter builds up inside me, one I squelch down and stomp on before answering him. “Um, no. But what better way to convince them of the fact that we’re a couple invested in a life of crime but to live together?”
Thanks to task force footing the bill, Lawson and I are sharing an apartment. For the public’s eyes, we’re madly in love and all in for a life of crime. But here, in the privacy of our own, temporary home?
I don’t know where to put my hands.
First, my right one reaches up to comb through a tangle of long hair with my fingers. Then I smooth the damp palms down my thighs, attempting to dry them. Fidgeting. Something I never usually do.
I’m not a nervous person. Growing up, I had to have nerves of steel just to survive the night. Anxious energy isn’t something I struggle with.
At least, it didn’t used to be.
Apparently I’ve picked up a new bad habit. And I’m going to blame it all on Lawson Snyder. He’s the only variable in my life that’s changed.
Lawson sinks farther down onto the opposite end of the couch. Our apartment is spacious, a one-bedroom in a nice duplex overlooking the botanical gardens. My own apartment is in downtown Wilmington, far from the ocean. All the gorgeous greenery, the hint of salt in the air—it’s a welcome change.
“Yeah. I guess you’re right about that. How are you feeling about the way things went today? You were kind of killer. Where’d that woman come from?”
“What woman?”
Lawson’s smirk appears, the one that makes my stomach turn over and over in my stomach. I wrap one arm around my middle, just to keep it still. “What are you talking about?”
Lawson cuts his gaze toward me, leaving me with a stare that pins me to my seat. God, his eyes are intense. “I’m talking about the fact that you had every single man who laid eyes on you eating out of the palm of your hand. I’m talking about how you put a spell on everyone, and I never doubted the fact that they’d buy our story. Because of you.”
I try to swallow around the emotion growing in my throat. When was the last time someone told me that they appreciated me? I know that Russ loves me, that he
thinks I’m a good cop. But Lawson isn’t just complimenting the job I did today. He’s telling me that the reason the entire plan went well was because of me.
And, God…that feels amazing.
My eyes aimed at the floor, my voice escapes my throat in a whisper. “Thank you.”
And before I can blink, Lawson is there, kneeling in front of me.
“I might not know you very well,” he murmurs, lifting my chin with one finger. “But what I do know is that you’re the kind of woman who draws people in. Even when you’re busy trying to push them away.”
My eyes meet his, and I’m locked in by his stare. My skin magnetizes with the way his eyes go deep and so, so dark, their depths fathomless as he takes me in. It’s like he’s stripped me bare with a look, and his fingers haven’t even touched me.
Imagine if they did?
The thought slams into me from nowhere; it’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to think about what would happen if I gave in to this attraction pulling between us. Because, even though we’ve tried to play it cool since our coffee “date,” I’m finally admitting to myself that there is an attraction, a pull every time we’re together. And we’re about to be together a lot.
A.
Lot.
Shouldn’t I just get it over with now? Act on this feeling so it’ll be done and over with, so I can get back to focusing on the case?
Or would that be a huge mistake? Would sleeping with Lawson to get him out of my system backfire?
I’ve never had sex with a man and wanted to repeat the act. I’ve dated, but as soon as we sleep together I’m out. I lose interest completely once a man has seen me naked. I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t want the attachment of being with someone multiple times, or if the scars my mother and her lifestyle inflicted on me cut so deep that the prospect of an actual relationship scares me away.
