by Jodi Linton
He slipped off his leather vest and tossed it over an old bike seat. “You two seem close. Not easy becoming the vice president of a well-known motorcycle club.” He cocked his head in the direction of the muscle behind the only female MC president he’d ever encountered. Even though it might get his ass kicked, he needed to push the man’s buttons a little more. “Is that hard-on you carry around for Em ever going to deflate? Because, man, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you aren’t even on her radar.”
It only took seconds for the VP to blow his top, and Cade had been waiting for the explosion. He welcomed it.
Logan shoved him in the chest, his back buckled into the workbench. “You’re some piece of work, Jackson.” The VP’s gaze narrowed. “What? Get your kicks by dealing out one-night stands?” Thick fingers jabbed him in the chest. “I’ve known Em more than twenty years, and I am not the type to stand by and watch some outsider fuck her around.”
Cade rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry, man, never meant to piss you off.” He played it cool by backing down, when normally he’d be the first to throw a punch in a cockfight. “I barely know Em, or that much about the Sinners,” he lied as he edged around Logan.
“How about we skip the girlie talk and get on with it? I don’t trust you, and I could do without you on my club grounds. But it’s your lucky day; I don’t make the rules.” Logan reached behind him and rooted around the workbench before turning back with a roll of paper towels in hand. His humorless smile was replaced by a grim expression. “You’ll need these,” he said, tossing the paper towels at his boots. “Just remember, if you fuck us, I’m the one you’ll be answering to. And I’ll take great pleasure in ratting out your ass.” Logan walked toward the office door but stopped and turned to face him again. “For your sake, I hope you prove me wrong. Otherwise things between us are going to get real messy, real fast.”
Then Logan slammed the office door behind him.
Cade shrugged the white T-shirt off his shoulders and slung it over an old Harley as he walked toward the bathroom. Focusing on the task before him, he pushed the dull pain back as he tried not to acknowledge that Logan might have known Wes better in his final days. Allowing such moments of weakness could be a death sentence in his line of work. But he had concluded that the vice president of the Dirty Sinners wasn’t interested in sharing his president with anyone, and that could’ve included his old partner as well. Mentally he jotted down a “maybe” next to one bad man on his lengthy list of possible suspects. Still, Em Connors was the prime person of interest, and now he knew what he had to do: press the biker babe on information involving Wes and the position he’d held inside the club.
Nothing like knowing the woman he wanted to bang could be responsible or know the responsible party in his partner’s death to throw cold water on his horny fixation.
Em had arrived bright and early to the Sinners’ clubhouse. All morning the temptation of Cade Jackson on her lips waged a war with her already confused head and heart. She left her garage apartment in the wee hours to sort through a mess of unpaid bills. The mind-numbing task hadn’t helped. Two hours and a few empty Styrofoam cups later, and Em was still as hot and bothered as she had been when the damn alarm sounded.
Kissing the sexy-as-sin biker probably went down as one of the worst moves in history. She pushed aside a late phone bill and lazily slumped in the office chair, deciding to doodle on a notepad instead. Most of the time she considered herself cold as ice, but Cade no-patch biker, Cade mystery man, and Cade passionate kisser sparked a desire inside her that should’ve stayed buried. Damn, it was wrong to seek pleasure in another man when she was still mourning Wes. Though all she could focus on was that goddamn kiss and taking whatever had transpired between them yesterday further. Now as she stood by the office window watching Cade exchange words with Logan, she couldn’t think of anything but his lips on hers. Yesterday’s events made her fully aware of just how much she didn’t deserve a happy ending. What type of woman thought about another man’s kisses when she’d laid her lover to rest only ten months ago?
Only a heartless bitch raised by a bastard who made it a point to drill home love was a foolish man’s game would allow such thoughts.
Heart heavy, Em suddenly felt dizzy with need to find a picture of her old lover. Wes Scott, HPD undercover cop, was the first man to show her the true meaning of unconditional love. Unlike her father, who determined love based on blood and glory, her dead fiancé proved time and time again that devotion was based on trust, honesty, and integrity. With trembling legs, she pushed back from the desk and rose to her feet. It’d been months since she’d actually glanced at a photo of Wes. She’d made a pact to not waste his memory in tears but rather cut down everyone at the knees who had taken him away from her.
She wrenched the old file cabinet open, and in a rush of brutal clarity, she reached inside and pulled out the photo, finally tasting peace. Gripping the picture some schoolyard kid had snapped of them off the coast of Galveston the morning of his death, Em tried to clear her throat in an effort to swallow the dryness. Hazel eyes cut right through her. And goddamn did it hurt. She remembered the vacation like it was yesterday.
Wes made a big deal about leaving town around sunrise, even packing her a bag the night before. If she had only clued in to the signs, realized he was running from something, maybe Em would have protested, begged him to break cover and seek help from the local PD. She tightly clutched the picture. That day Wes had asked her to marry him. That night he’d been murdered. And their future had been taken away in a blink of an eye. Now her future only held revenge. Axle had raised her to live or die by the code: everyone has a debt to pay. When the time came, she would teach Cyrus exactly what the code meant.
In that moment, Em decided she’d go mad without some fresh air. She gathered her keys, phone, and helmet, and strode out the office door. Sunlight broke overhead, and traffic whistled by on the adjacent street. She dropped Hammer, who sat drinking a beer at a picnic table, a wave, earning a nod in return. The old-timer had made it known he loathed the direction she’d taken the Sinners in, so after Wes’s murder she and Logan dug deep into the club, suspecting everyone, trusting no one. Hammer’s name never popped up as a possible enemy. But Cyrus Benedict’s had.
Suddenly, Em felt all the karma she’d tried to outrun since the day she was born into the club clogging her throat. In the distance, she faintly heard Hammer calling her name. Like hell she’d stick around to hear him riddle her with another rumor that he heard about untrustworthy bikers in their midst. Hammer had shown he could be a loose cannon—his killing Price the other day in front of her and Logan proved that suspicion—and she worried he might be getting a little too nosy. She increased her pace, almost sprinting to her motorcycle parked behind the garage, when the phone in her hand vibrated.
Pick up, Connors. A.H.
Then the phone rang.
“I told you not to call me at the club,” Em said, dropping her voice to a low whisper as she backed up to the shadows beneath the garage awning. “Are you trying to get me killed?”
Southern sass drawled on the other end. “If you’d call me like we agreed upon, then I wouldn’t need to poke around like some cop.”
Em blew out a breath. “What do you want me to do, invite you for a sleepover? And while I’m at it, I could see if a few of my men want to join us and give you a thrill. Itching to be bad like me, Abby?”
“You know there’s only one biker I’m interested in, Em,” Abby Harper, the DEA agent she’d willingly agreed to make an alliance with, chimed back. “I want to meet him. Our dark horse, the wild card.”
She edged out of the shadows and peered around the corner. Determined more than ever to make it undetected to her bike parked inside the garage, Em cupped a hand over the phone and started to jog in a half sprint across the lot. It would be a cold day in hell when she introduced Logan Black, her best friend and vice president, to Abby Harper. It wasn’t that she didn’t lik
e Abby. No. Logan had a thing for redheads, and Em couldn’t risk Abby turning into his latest one-night stand. Her life couldn’t afford any more complications. She shook off the nasty thought and said, “All you need to know is that he’s on our side.”
Although she hadn’t told Logan she had made a deal with the DEA office. Less he knew the better.
“Fine.” The DEA sighed into the phone. “I’ll drop it for now, but promise me you’ll show up to our next meeting.”
She pushed through the side door leading into the garage. “Sure—”
“Come back for seconds?” A deep male voice interrupted her conversation. The phone shook in her hand and panic set into her bones. “I’ll happily put out, princess.”
She turned in the direction of the familiar voice, and all the damn air in her lungs died on impact at the sight of Cade’s physique, a man who could easily lift her body and toss her onto the back of his bike before they rode off into the sunset. Hot. Heat raced across her skin. His toned back flexed as he squatted to peer underneath her father’s old Harley. Her gaze slid down his left shoulder blade toward his elbow while she took in the full-color sleeve tattoo. Swallowing hard, she begrudgingly pushed all needy thoughts down and tried to stop staring at the stunningly handsome specimen of a male squatting on the garage floor.
“Gotta go, A.” She shoved the phone in the back pocket of her pants. “Do you always have such bad timing?”
“Interrupt your girlie time, huh?”
“I don’t do girlfriends.” She tried damn hard to look him in the face. “That was just the other cocky new mechanic I hired who I like to talk shit with.”
Pulling a panty-dropping smile, he wiped his hands on a rag and smiled at her. Hard eyes scrutinized her body, traveling up and down until settling into a disapproving expression. He stood and stepped forward, placing his body a mere inch from hers. “Sue me, if you will, but there’s this sexy chick in leather who brings out all my bad habits,” he rasped beside her ear. “Fuck, Connors. Did you lay awake all night dreaming about where that kiss could have led? I sure did.”
“Never found much relaxation in dreaming about sharing my bed with assholes.”
When he laughed, his crooked smile widened, and she felt her toes curl up inside her boots. Her heartbeat quickened, and the keys tumbled to the ground. Surprised by her sudden reaction, she quickly bent down to grab them and bail, but instead was frozen in place by a brown gaze burning with intensity. “Let me be clear here, Em. I have every intention of kissing you again. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but when I’m ready, you’ll be begging for me to touch you.”
Heat rolled down into her stomach at the memory of his mouth on hers. She wanted to lean into him. She wanted to touch him. Maybe pretend for just a moment life was as simple as a kiss. Em hesitated but couldn’t help herself, countering his mischievous smile with one of her own. She pushed her sunglasses higher up her nose and stepped into him. “I know your type, Cade. I know the way y’all work. You’re just another good boy desperate to prove he can ride with the bad boys. Yet you’ll always be quick on the draw and slow to pull the trigger.”
“Really? Good boys kiss like they’re fucking you?” He growled in her ear. “Do they make the Dirty Sinners’ princess melt? Because if so, babe, I’d love to meet them and shake their hands. It’s a worthy feat, and those good boys deserve a beer.”
Her whole body went rigid. Speechless. He’d rendered her completely speechless. She rocked on the toes of her boots and jabbed her thumb into his chest. “Shithead.”
Cade scrubbed a hand over his face. “Hell, I’ll take that sentiment over being called a fucking good boy any day. Since this shit”—he lowered a hand on the hard length in his pants—“was anything but nice yesterday.”
Ignoring his indecent comment, Em tried to look anywhere but at his devastatingly handsome face. Damn she sucked at taking the higher road. Pinning him with a cold scowl and a two-can-play-that-game attitude, she asked, “Is there a reason to all your childish madness?”
“Let me take you to lunch.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s no way in hell I’m riding bitch on your bike again. It seems to have this nasty effect on me”—she puffed out a breath—“like causing me to lose my mind.”
He threw his hands up in the air. “Scouts honor, I’ll make every attempt to help keep your head on straight.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I get to pick the place.”
Chapter Seven
Of all the places to have lunch, she had to pick this one.
The Dirty Sinners president’s motorcycle pulled into a slot outside of Dixie’s, a local diner Cade frequented when not on duty, and the engine stuttered a minute more before coming to a complete stop. Never in a million years would he have considered Em choosing a place where Houston’s finest made regular lunch stops.
This is what happens when you let your dick do the talking.
Cursing under his breath, he kicked the clutch down on his Harley and pulled off his helmet, waiting for her to dismount her motorcycle. “Really,” he said as he walked along the sidewalk and took a stand near her parked bike. “You want to have lunch at a cop hangout?”
Em flipped up her visor and squinted. “What was it some smart-ass biker told me?” Her full upper lip twisted. “Oh, yeah, I’ve got a rebellious streak¸ Outlaw.”
Fuck. That smart mouth was something else.
“Did I ever tell you that biker is a pretty smart guy?”
“No.” Her cute laugh socked him in the gut. “But thanks for the reminder. Besides it’s just lunch, and Dixie’s has the best barbecue sandwiches around.”
Cade rubbed his hand over his mouth. “Just lunch, huh?”
Em ignored his comment and planted her boots on the curb. As she took off her helmet, sunlight blanketed the long strands of her silky brunette hair. Wild eyes narrowed above high cheekbones, and lush, pouty, cherry-stained lips curved into a charming girl-next-door smile, searing an image of her and him taking to the open road like some renegades.
Stop fantasizing about a date with Em Connors, like some real relationship crap. Never gonna happen.
At least he could stare a little more, and die a happy man knowing she gave him a small fraction of her time. It didn’t matter the memories would all be fake. He’d take them. He allowed his gaze to travel once more over her spectacular face. Dangerous how this girl produced emotions inside him that he had no business feeling. But today was business. He was going to get some answers.
When she reached him, she patted a hand on his shoulder, and the clean, soapy scent lingering on her body drifted into his nose. Too sweet. Way too goddamn enticing. His mind was all over the place.
“They’re just tits, Cade. Pretty sure you’ve seen a few in your lifetime.” She winked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Or do you just really like butterflies?”
“Butterflies.”
She let out a sigh and both full breasts heaved, pushing the scoop neckline of her tank top lower. “I’d say you need to find yourself a new hobby.”
He moved in closer, aligning their bodies. “You enjoy the effect your body has on the boys, don’t you? The way it makes men act with their dicks instead of their brains.”
She laughed as her red nails curled around his hand, tugging him onto the sidewalk. “It seems to pull tricks on you.”
He’d almost forgotten their destination as they weaved through the picnic tables. It hadn’t been smart allowing her to pick their lunch-date location. But nothing he’d done so far where Em Connors was concerned had been smart.
He whipped off his sunglasses and prayed the good Lord was watching his back. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it,” he said as he pushed open the door to the restaurant.
She scooted around him, hips swaying. “Just so you know, all these compliments aren’t going to get you a free lunch.”
Whispering so only she could hear, he followed that sweet ass inside. “But th
ey might gain me another kiss.”
Em paused, then seemed to shake off his comment and kept walking.
When they reached an empty table, he pulled out a chair and offered up the seat. He might be an undercover cop hell-bent on slapping charges on the pretty woman brushing elbows with him, and he might be allowing all the naughty thoughts about Em and what he could do to her body to take charge over his case, but he’d been raised a Southern gentleman. She was still a woman—a possible drug pusher, sex pistol of a woman who with just a glance made the strain against his zipper painfully unbearable. But, she was a woman nonetheless. And hell would freeze over before he disrespected her. Criminal…or not.
Eye-to-eye contact, and mind out of the gutter.
“Someone raised the asshole right.”
He glanced around the tables, then took a seat across the way from the untouchable dark-haired beauty. “I have my moments.”
“Shit, I don’t know why I do that.” Her lips moved, and he had to restrain himself from launching across the table and tasting their deliciousness again. “Thanks for pulling my chair out.” She blinked. “There I said it. I played nice.”
“See it wasn’t that hard, now was it?”
The corners of her mouth curved into a pleasant line, making her eyes sparkle. “Fine. I’ll agree you won this round, Cade.”
As if his situation didn’t already suck, she had to flash him a gut-clenching smile. He hated being that man who was handing out friendly smiles right back at her when he only meant to ruin her in the end. Screwed didn’t even come close to what she was dishing out. Maybe he should question his own ulterior motives. Give in to the urge to claim the biker princess, and fuck the consequences. Unfortunately, to her he’d become the bad guy who would flee the scene once he burned her way of life to the ground. When he thought about demolishing an entire motorcycle club, all his regrets, all his guilt, all his pride came into focus.
Now as he sat inside a diner on a sunny July afternoon, Cade was starting to understand exactly how Em drew his old partner to the Dirty Sinners. Sex and the promise of a beautiful woman could make a guy act irrationally.
