Again with the “his girl.” But his insistence on protecting her even from hungry squirrels made her feel warm and tingly inside.
“Hold on tight, sweetheart.” He started his engine and the deep rumble vibrated through her body.
Oh, she’d hold on tight. But would she be able to let go?
SEVEN
There is no substitute for good information and a helping hand.
—SINNER’S TRIBE MOTORCYCLE REPAIR MANUAL
Zane hated the morgue.
And not because of the smell. He could handle the cloying scent of antiseptic. Even the underlying odor of death and decomposition. But what got to him was the sadness. There was never anything good waiting for the people who went through the heavy silver door leading from the waiting room to the identification area. And he would know. He’d been in the morgue too many times to identify the bodies of his brothers who had become collateral damage in the war against the Black Jacks.
This time, however, he and Jagger didn’t know if the body the police had found in an alley in the center of town was one of their own.
“You sure you guys want to see this? Like I said on the phone, he’s unrecognizable. Forensics is doing the ID through his teeth.” Deputy Sheriff Doug Benson led them into the low, brick building. Once an upright law enforcement officer, he had been brought down after a misguided attempt to save Cade’s old lady, Dawn—then Benson’s friend and love interest—from the biker world. Benson was now on the Sinner payroll, providing information and tips and the occasional assistance in exchange for keeping his body intact.
“If he’s one of ours, he deserves our respect.”
“Your call.” Benson pushed open the door to the waiting room. “One of the ambulance attendants … young guy … threw up when he saw him. Cause of death was … well, let’s just say he suffered multiple stab wounds on top of his multiple stab wounds. The patch was cut off his jacket and his tat was burned off his skin so we weren’t sure if he was a Sinner or a Jack.”
Benson cut himself off when they reached the waiting room. Four people sat on metal folding chairs in the stark, white room, faces pale and drawn as they waited to be called. No one ever cried in the waiting room; the tears always came after … when hope was gone and the world became a darker place. He’d been there. Not just after losing a brother, but after seeing Evie with Mark.
But now she was free. She might fight their attraction, but the chemistry was still there. He had felt her tremble against him, heard her sigh when he kissed her … So why had she pushed him away? If anyone had a right to be wary, it was him. After all, he had gone back for her. Just like he promised.
He would find out tonight. If she wasn’t home, he would find her. Although he had decided to go by his real name in the MC—executive board members were given the choice of using their road name or first name—he had come by his road name, Tracker, for his uncanny ability to find anyone, anywhere. Evie wouldn’t stay off his radar for long.
“Zane? You coming?” Benson ran a hand through his dark hair, and Zane followed the deputy’s lanky body, clothed in regulation police blue, into the chiller.
The large sterile room, a mix of white cabinets and steel counters, examination tables and fluorescent lights, smelled strongly of disinfectant, but even the sharp scent could not mask the sickly sweet stench of death.
The pathologist, a thin, nervous dude with a receding hairline, who had been on the Sinner payroll for years, wasted no time. He pulled open one of the steel drawers that lined the east wall. “You know him?”
Zane startled at the body, covered in a thin white sheet. Unrecognizable didn’t even begin to describe the swollen, battered face, but the arms and hands were remarkably unscathed, save for the long, thin scar on his right hand between two fingers. Familiar. “Turn him over.”
Jagger glanced up from the other side of the body. “You see something?”
The pathologist rolled the body to the side and Zane pointed to the scarring on the man’s left shoulder. “Isn’t that where we burned off Axle’s tat? And isn’t that scar on his hand from the night you put your knife through his fingers?”
“Fuck.” Jagger leaned closer to take a look. “You’re right. It is Axle. And lookit the “J” carved into his chest. He must have pissed Viper off. Damn. He owed us for what he did to Arianne and the club. I promised her I’d be the one to pull the trigger.”
“Hello.” Benson waved from the corner. “Law enforcement officer here. Let’s not have any threats or admissions in front of a witness that I might be forced to report.”
“You open your mouth and it will be you in this ice box,” Zane said evenly. “And you won’t look so pretty. How’s that for a threat?”
“As far as threats go, it has a certain deterrent factor that I can’t ignore,” Benson said dryly. “What do you want me to do with the body?”
“He was a Sinner and he died a Jack. He’s dead to us. Do whatever the fuck you want.” Jagger grabbed the pathologist’s clipboard and scrawled a name on it. “That’s his real name. Don’t know if he’s got any family, but if so, you can tell them he still owes us a debt.”
“That’s hardly fair—”
Jagger cut Benson off with a scowl. “When we choose this life, we choose it for our families, too. If he wasn’t prepared to take that risk, he never should have joined the club.”
Zane handed an envelope to the pathologist on their way out. Small payments to the local businesses smoothed the way for the Sinners to get things done quickly and quietly. Benson would get his envelope at the end of the month since he was now on a permanent Sinner retainer.
Shooter and Gunner were waiting curbside beside the bikes. Zane insisted on a security detail for Jagger whenever he left the clubhouse, but pride meant Jagger would accept their presence only on the pretense they were there to watch the bikes. Zane briefed them about Axle while Jagger called Arianne. Axle had threatened her life on more than one occasion and Jagger had promised her justice. Now, he owed her an apology.
Zane caught the reflection of sun in a mirror as he waited for Jagger to finish his call. The skin on the back of his neck prickled. What the hell? It was probably just a reflection from the vehicle behind the Jeep parked across the street, but the angle was wrong, and with the war on, they couldn’t be too careful. Especially not with the Sinner president out in the open and only three brothers to guard him. He’d tried to dissuade Jagger from coming out to the morgue, but Jagger wasn’t the type of man to sit still when there were things to be done.
“Gun. Shooter. Stay with Jagger. I’m just gonna check something out.”
“Get back, sir!” Shooter whipped his weapon from beneath his cut and slammed Jagger in the chest with his arm in an attempt to push him back from what he clearly assumed was an unseen threat to the president’s life.
“Christ, Shooter. I’m on the fucking phone.” Jagger shoved his arm away.
Damn overzealous prospect was in for one hell of a beating when they got back to the clubhouse. No one touched the president, and especially not a prospect who hadn’t even earned the right to wear a Sinner patch.
Zane crossed the street to the fading cacophony of curses and Gunner’s sharp admonishments. He kept to the grassy verge of the sidewalk, and beneath the trees along the edge of the park that fronted the morgue. He made his way past the Jeep, and stopped when he saw a biker between two parked cars, peering out into the street, his Black Jack patch on display.
Son of a bitch. Zane withdrew his weapon and bit back a growl. Conundrum was Sinner turf. Black Jacks were not just unwelcome, but risked death if they chose to cross the border. He aimed his weapon, a Sig Sauer P226, just as the biker leaned back in his seat, giving Zane a clear view of the top rocker on his cut, “Property of Viper.”
Well damn. Not a he, but a she. Viper’s old lady. Had she come to see the body or was she watching the Sinners? Not that it mattered. Aside from Viper himself, or one of the Black Jack executive board mem
bers, there was no greater prize.
With his weapon aimed and ready, he came up behind her bike, then veered slightly to the side. He tensed, then lunged, wrapping one arm around her throat while he pressed the gun to her head.
“Don’t move, princess.”
She stiffened, pressing her head against his chest to relieve the pressure on her throat. When she looked up, her soft brown eyes pleading, Zane’s stomach twisted. She was younger than he thought, early twenties if he had to guess, and pretty, if you liked long, platinum blonde hair and a truckload of makeup. Young for Viper, who had to be in his late forties, too young to be taken prisoner, but he’d made his decision and damned if he would go back on it.
“Off the bike. Nice and slow. Hands out front where I can see them.”
She complied with his instructions, her body shaking, but she didn’t put up a fight and minutes later he had her in front of Jagger.
Jagger looked down at the prisoner, bemused. “What’s this?”
“Present from Viper. Looks like he sent us his old lady.” Zane released her throat, but kept his gun to her head while Gun called the clubhouse for transport.
“Welcome to Conundrum, love.” Jagger grinned.
Her face paled when she saw Jagger’s “president” patch, but damned if she stood her ground. “I was on my way to see my sister in Hardin. Took a wrong turn. Didn’t mean to wind up here.”
“But you did and it would be bad manners if we didn’t offer you some hospitality, Sinner style.” Zane led her into the alley beside the morgue to wait for the cage. Gunner patted her down. As expected, she was armed—two guns, three knives, and a throwing star—Viper’s old lady was no shrinking violet and she knew better than to scream for the police..
“So…” Zane stared at the patch on her cut. “Doreen. You’re Viper’s old lady.” A statement, not a question, and not something she could deny since she wore Viper’s patch on her back.
“What if I am?” She looked up at him and glared. “You think you can use me as bait? Do you really think Viper is the kind of man to care about a fuck toy?”
“He gave you his patch. Makes you more than his fuck toy.”
“You don’t know shit about me or Viper.” Doreen morphed from helpless young woman into hard biker bitch in a heartbeat. “Just do what you’re going to do. I’m tired of yapping with you morons.”
Jagger grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back. “Respect, love. You’re in Sinner territory now. I’m not inclined to hurt a woman, but Zane here—”
“Yeah, I know about him.” She cut Jagger off and turned to face Zane. “You’re the one who shot Axle in the leg up in Whitefish. And I know you’re after Viper’s girl. Axle saw you together before he…” She choked up and looked away, a strange reaction given she was Viper’s old lady.
“The cut says you’re Viper’s girl.” Jagger’s lips twisted in a smile. “Or has he started a harem?”
“I’m payment for Axle’s debts. So whatever you think you’re going to get outta holding me, it’s not going to happen. He won’t give a damn. And the only man who did is lying in that morgue.”
Zane and Jagger shared a glance, and Zane frowned. “You were Axle’s old lady?”
“Went to pay my respects to my old man and you damn Sinners snatched me.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Viper will kill me if he finds out I came here. So if you take me, do me a favor and kill me. Don’t leave me to his mercy.”
Zane’s mind whirled as he tried to put the pieces together. Was she talking about Evie? Was Viper the reason Evie couldn’t see him tonight? Or was Doreen talking about one of the other women he’d seen over the past week? Damned if he could keep track. “What girl are you talking about? I got lots of girls.”
“I’m sure you do, looking the way you look,” Doreen said. “But that information will cost you. I want to see Axle before they take him away. I want to say goodbye.”
Jesus Christ. The bitch had balls of steel. “Not gonna happen.”
“Then I guess you gotta call up all the girls you’ve been with and ask them if they’ve got the hots for Viper. Or you could just wait for Viper to take you out, ’cause he knows you touched her, and he doesn’t like anyone messing with his property.”
His property? But how could Evie be with Viper? He was the antithesis of everything Evie stood for—a normal, comfortable civilian life. It made no sense. She had her son and a job and a life in Conundrum. From what he could see, she was happy. No way would Evie go out with an outlaw biker. Or was she still after the adrenaline rush she’d used to fill the emptiness in her life?
“Well then he’ll be happy to pay to see your pretty face again.” Zane folded his arms and leaned against the brick wall. The alley had the same sickly sweet disinfectant scent of the morgue, and his nose wrinkled. Death definitely had a smell. “How about you give us some more information about this woman I have that Viper wants, and I’ll give you my word you’ll make it through this alive?”
“Viper gave me his word, too.” Her bottom lip trembled, belying her bravado. “He said he’d let me go after Axle died. Instead I got this cut and the pleasure of being chained to his bed.”
Zane smoothed his face, hiding his surprise. An old lady cut was akin to a civilian wedding ring, a sign of commitment, not bondage. “I’ve never broken my word.”
She studied him intently and then she smirked. “The redhead from Big Bill’s shop. Only reason I came to Conundrum today is because Viper is away tonight. He’s meeting her at a bar in Red River, since he can’t come into town.”
He didn’t need to look at Jagger. They’d been through this drill before. Protecting Evie. It was what they had always done. “Jag, you got Evie’s number?”
“I’m on it.” Jagger bashed the screen on his phone, waited. “No answer.”
“I’ll head out to Red River.” He walked down the alley, his heart thudding in his chest. Evie and Viper. Christ. And he’d thought Mark was no good for her.
“Gun can take over here. I’ll go check Evie’s house.” Jagger hesitated, called out. “Zane … she might not be happy to see us.”
Zane kept walking. “She never was, but we saved her anyway.”
EIGHT
Things are going to go wrong when you’re dealing with complex machinery. Don’t give up. Just do a better job each time you try.
—SINNER’S TRIBE MOTORCYCLE REPAIR MANUAL
“Well, look at you.” Connie looked over her shoulder from her seat on Evie’s couch and put down her video game controller. Beside her, Ty groaned.
“You’re dead. Now I have to reset.”
Evie grimaced at Connie’s slow perusal of her date-night outfit, a sleeveless black sheath dress that buttoned up the back, knee-high boots, a silver chain belt, and chunky silver earrings. The neckline of the dress dipped low, but not too low, showing only a hint of cleavage.
“Nice with a naughty twist,” Connie concluded. “Old Vipe’s gonna have a heart attack when he sees you. But then that’s the problem with dating an old man.”
“He’s in his mid-forties. That’s not old. He was in his late teens when his daughter, Arianne, was born. Same age as I was when I had Ty.” She straightened a pile of magazines on the glass table behind the couch. She and Ty had chosen glass and beige leather when they decorated the living room to brighten up the small space. Ty had picked out a few shaggy beige cushions and a matching area rug that were a nightmare to clean, but he said they reminded him of the sheep from his favorite video game, and she didn’t have the heart to refuse.
“Maybe he’s after you because he’s having a midlife crisis.” Connie picked up her controller, turning her focus to the screen. “Although what do bikers do when they have a midlife crisis? They already have the young girls, fast cars, and hot bikes. Maybe they buy a minivan and waist-high jeans, slip on some socks and sandals, get an office job, and start mowing the lawn.”
“You’re dead again, Connie.” Ty fist pumped the
air. “You want to start again or play something else?”
Connie stood and ruffled his hair. “How about a board game? You know about those things? From the prehistoric age? They don’t have a controller and no one dies a painful death, especially me. Just good, clean, old fashioned fun.”
“I think I’ve got one of those.”
“Now who’s sounding old?” Evie laughed as Ty raced to his room.
“Wish I was coming along on your date,” Connie said wistfully. “My dry spell is getting drier every day and I’m guessing Vipe’s not gonna show without his mouthwatering biker posse to keep him safe. Maybe I could have some Black Jack fun. Although Tank was kinda cute. And he gave me his number.”
“I might end it with him tonight,” Evie said, fiddling with the links in her belt. “That’s why I picked this dress. I thought maybe he’d change his mind about me. I like him, but the whole shooting thing outside the shop scared me. And Zane … I mean it’s over between us, but if he’s going to be part of Ty’s life, things could get complicated since they’re from rival clubs. I just don’t know what to do.”
“If you were going for the matronly look, you haven’t succeeded. You’d look hot wearing a burlap sack.” Connie lifted an over-tweezed eyebrow. “And do you really think a man like Viper hasn’t already figured out what you’ve got going under that dress? Or that he isn’t interested when he sends one of his men to set up a date? If you don’t want to see him anymore, you’ll need to tell him flat out, otherwise I don’t think he’ll be turned off by the way your boobs are busting out all over the place.”
Evie glanced over at the hallway leading to Ty’s room and lowered her voice. “They aren’t busting out.”
“Honey, if I flipped a coin at your chest, it would definitely get stuck between your girls. With me, on the other hand, that baby would sail right through my nonexistent cleavage, bounce off the floor, and come up and hit me in the chin.”
“Now I think I’m too dressed up.” Evie sighed. “I’ve never been to the Riverside Bar. What if it’s a rough, dress-down kind of place?”
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