by Jodi Linton
Goddamn tease. He moved and adjusted her into a more pleasing position right over his rock-hard erection. “Who says I’m drunk?”
“That half-empty bottle of tequila with your name on it does.” She wiggled, and he practically choked from the erotic way she scooted against him.
Keep it together, man. You’re a goddamn cop. Her head dipped, and then she brushed their lips together. The bulge against his zipper grew more painful as their tongues tangled in a liquor-induced fog. Small hands skimmed over his chest, softly, enticing the growing need between his thighs. Her skin felt like silk pressed up against his unshaven jaw. If there wasn’t a group of rowdy bikers receiving their kicks via drugged-up whores, Cade would’ve thrown her on the ground and showed her just how nicely their bodies fit together. Because this feeling he kept experiencing with Em was killing him. And he couldn’t bear another second of not touching, kissing, or hearing her call his name.
“I’m not drunk.” Their heated gazes met like a bullet nearing its target.
She shoved him back, the abrasive move tossing a bucket of ice water on his already not so calm demeanor. “Have fun, Cade.” Em slid off his lap and righted herself. “I’ve got club business to attend to.” She waved a dismissive hand about, gesturing at the drunken bikers and clubhouse. “Enjoy yourself. And find out what having a real brotherhood means.”
The knowing smile tainting her pretty features dug at him far more than it should have. He shifted uncomfortably, the raging hard-on pressing at his jeans damn apparent. Her cool, baby blues cut through him like a knife, and he sat there picking apart each crack in her soulless mask. She might deal blows in the Dirty Sinners Motorcycle Club, but even as tequila soared through his bloodstream, Cade saw all her fractures: the pain, the fierce loyalty, the need to be seen as more than some thug’s daughter. He could relate. But her secrets were the bigger question. Did she hang with a cold-blooded cop killer? Or if he peeled away every mysterious layer would she turn out to be just a girl trying to survive in a man’s hard world?
He tipped the liquor bottle to his lips. “Who do you suggest…blondie or big red?”
“It’s a party, Cade.” Em scrubbed the back of her neck, and instantly he clued in to her displeasure. “Since you’re the new guy, I’m sure those two will give you ample attention.”
He took a swig, chasing down the worm. “Maybe I don’t want their attention.”
“Suit yourself,” Em said, the snap in her husky voice sharp and loud. “Hammer, don’t let him get into too much trouble,” she hollered in the direction of the boys huddled by the beer cooler. Then he heard her retreating footfalls pause. “Find a brunette. They give him a kick.”
As she walked away he could faintly hear Hammer snicker, taking his place once more behind the tattoo gun. “We’ve all had a hard-on for her at one time or another.” The sorriest tattoo artist he’d ever encountered stuck his back again, lighting his body up in pain. “Don’t you worry, it’ll wear off once you get to know the coldhearted bitch.”
Suddenly chasing the worm didn’t seem so bad. He hadn’t planned to feel something for Em Connors other than his loathing for her involvement in Wes’s death, but in a very short span the woman had somehow demanded all his attention. I should’ve known better. Shouldn’t have let my guard down the instant her husky voice whispered in my ear.
A picture held a thousand words, and that day in the diner with his boss, Cade couldn’t have predicted he’d be in this position. Though if he held an ounce of self-respect, something he lost upon learning of his partner’s death, he wouldn’t have accepted booze and women as replacement to his shoddy investigative work. The moment he’d seen Em posed for a camera, with her endless long legs straddling a Harley and her hollow blue eyes staring directly into the path of the sunlight, Cade realized he was screwed. He chose to keep his reaction to himself instead of alerting the police chief as to how much their mark turned him on. Otherwise, Roland would’ve immediately pulled him from the case.
And then he’d tasted her: sweet, responsive, and way too damn addictive.
Maybe a few more shots would help ease the blow of not being able to have the one woman to spur something more inside him than the need to solve a case. Although he highly doubted the powers of tequila would push away the image of Em’s sweet ass swaying from his grasp.
The tattoo gun hummed and came to a stop. “You seem like a newbie…but a hardcore biker nonetheless.”
Cade took another swig of tequila, allowing the burn to settle his nerves.
“And?” He played it cool, seeing that maybe someone least expected to help might be an alternate angle. “I’m about to pour myself another drink, which means my attention span is growing less than stellar by the weight of this bottle.” He shook the tequila and stared at the half empty bottle.
Hammer dropped the tattoo gun on the picnic table and plucked up a shot glass in its place. He shook it under the dim skylight. “Got a drink in there for me, nomad?”
It was time to play the part of the cop, and the club member shaking a shot glass past his eyes happened to be the most promising lead to date.
“Tell me more about our bitch boss and the strippers, and it’s all yours, man.”
“For starters, we’re all fucking pansies for having to answer to a chick.” Hammer used a thumb to tip the tequila bottle, filling his glass to the brim. “And don’t even get me started on this Good Samaritan bullshit.”
“Must suck taking orders from a woman,” Cade obliged. Even though all his thoughts had quickly taken a turn toward the soft sounds of Em moaning, begging, and calling out his name, somehow he gathered himself long enough to press on. There was no alternative. The endgame was still the same. Get information to help nail the cop killer and bring the biker princess in for questioning. It really didn’t matter that he’d sell an organ on the black market to watch her come again, come because of him. “Hell, she sure is a looker, though.”
The club member shrugged. “And a cop lover.”
Cade cleared his throat on a choke. Stay calm. Show nothing. He swiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pivoted on the picnic table, eyeing Hammer.
“You haven’t heard the rumors?” Hammer laughed. “The piece of ass you’re so hot to tap almost did us all in for a cop. Well, she didn’t know he was a cop, but still.” A big hand clapped him on the shoulder. “No worries. Me and some of the boys took care of the little misunderstanding. All’s good in the land of the Sinners and Vipers.”
There’d only been one cop in the Sinners fold that Cade knew of. Goddamn it, Wes. What the hell had he been thinking? Cade knew exactly what his old partner had been thinking, because he was having the very same thoughts. And they all circled back to one sexy MC president. He had to find Em so they could talk. No. Investigate her. Shit, he’d become a loose wire, and nothing made sense to him anymore.
Shaking off the confusion, he lowered the liquor bottle, and tequila sloshed down his elbow. “Took care of?” He wiped his arm on his pants leg. “You telling me the Sinners are into the business of offing their own? Em doesn’t seem the type.”
Hammer smirked. “What? If you’re looking for a sweet girl, then I hate to say you’re looking in the wrong place. She’s deadly. Nothing more to tell when it comes to that one.”
Cade nodded and took another sip of tequila, knowing the burn would be much appreciated. “I’m not looking for anything.”
“Well, you came sniffing around the Sinners looking for a job.”
“And—” He shook the liquor bottle in his hands.
Hammer mockingly let out a whistle. “And you got mixed up with our black widow.”
Something bitter surfaced inside him. “It’s hard to deny the company of such a sweet ass, wouldn’t you say?”
Hammer snorted. “Only if you’re looking for problems,” he replied and flipped the switch on the tattoo gun, the buzz disappearing into the quiet night air. “I like you, Cade. You seem straight. So here’s
a little word of advice: that sweet leather behind will burn you down. Take one look at Logan, and you’ll see what becomes of a man once she sinks her claws in.”
The hard-edge, silent biker was about to confide. And Cade wanted nothing more than to be with Em, to set things straight between them. Instead he shook off the longing to chase her down and focused on Hammer. “What about Logan?”
“Nothing. Forget I said anything.” Cool ointment tingled at his raw flesh. He winced. “There. All done.” Hammer pressed a bandage to his upper shoulder blade, covering the Sinners trademark ink he now proudly wore. “Tomorrow you should be as good as new.”
Staring at the gauze, Cade grunted in appreciation. “Thanks for the new ink, man.” He shifted upright on the picnic table. “I want in on the deal. I’m hurting for cash, and I overheard that the Sinners are dealing again. What do you say, Hammer, want to help a guy out?”
“We don’t invite newbies into the deal until y’all prove yourselves. Besides, we’re just getting back into it. Only Em and Logan know the details, but something is going down soon to start it back up again.”
It felt like a fist plummeted into Cade’s rib cage, knocking the air from his lungs. Quickly he regained composure, knowing any other action would alarm the Sinner before him.
“Come on.” Hammer tipped his head at the naked girls dancing under the moonlight. “I do believe our president gave me orders to show the nomad a good time.”
Cade set his empty bottle down and rose to his feet. “You’ll have to count me out.” He picked up his leather cut and carefully slung it over his bandaged back, the sound of the office door slamming shut telling him exactly where he needed to be. “I think I might have a death wish.”
The club member followed his gaze and laughed. “We all do, man.”
“Thanks for the ink.” Cade nodded and walked away in the direction of the biker chick daring him to become the rebel again.
And he’d happily sign that edict.
Chapter Nine
Good one, Em. You must have been insane to offer up another woman in your place.
Em slammed her office door and slid down on the floor. Since riding Cade’s hand in a bathroom stall, all her thoughts had been consumed by an insatiable need to see him again. Within a week, the nomad biker had been able to turn her carefully constructed world on its head. She’d spent her mornings waiting near her office window, the anticipation building to a slow burn between her legs as she listened for the now-familiar purr of his Harley. And her afternoons were consumed with trying to get a glimpse of his sweaty abs as he worked in the shop. Shuddering out a nervous breath, Em stroked a hand through her tangled brown locks. Naturally, she’d ruined their latest encounter by offering up the bimbo twins as a means to keep him busy through the night. What on earth had she been thinking? When secretly all she wanted to do was launch herself into Cade’s arms and kiss the living daylights out of him.
For the past ten months, she hadn’t been able to talk to a guy other than Logan, but they’d always only discussed club business. And within the last few days Em had shared things she didn’t think she ever would again. Somehow Cade made her want to open up. Want to break her ice princess facade.
When she’d mentioned to Cade that his presence was expected at the club tonight for their monthly barbecue it’d been purely a selfish act on her part because she worried he might not show after the way she’d been ignoring him at every turn. He made it hard to think straight. He made her want another life. One where they would ride off on the back of his bike, leaving behind this violent life she called home. And that just couldn’t happen. She had goals, and she wasn’t about to walk away and pile on more regrets. If Em had taught herself anything since claiming the president patch it was that men like Cade Jackson were best kept at a distance. Otherwise shit got complicated. Em didn’t do complicated…well, not anymore she didn’t.
Then, holy hell, the sexy-as-fuck biker blew her away by actually showing his face. As if she was predestined to screw herself over, the pull between them had crackled in the cloudless sky like the Fourth of July when she saw him dismount his motorcycle. Never once did she believe he would agree to be branded in ink with the club’s label. Yet he continually surprised her. Having Hammer tattoo his body in the MC logo should’ve made him bail if he’d been a spy for either the Vipers or the cops. Instead he’d taken a seat on the picnic table, smoking-brown eyes blazing back at her as he sipped away on tequila awaiting the first needle prick. Damn. She tried to stay away, but the allure was too great. For a second, it seemed maybe the night, and the two of them, would be fine, but then she had felt her phone buzz, and getting lost in the moment sailed away with a single text message from her vice president Logan Black.
Meet me in the clubhouse office in ten.
The hard knock on the office door dragged her from her thoughts.
“It’s Logan.” The VP’s gruff voice bled through the door. “Can I come in, Em?”
“The door’s unlocked.”
Wide shoulders and tattooed arms moved inside. There had been a time in her life when Em considered Logan a shoulder to cry on. He’d stood behind her when her father died and left the club for her to run. And shortly after her fiancé’s death, they’d even tested the waters of their rocky friendship. Logan, in his own goodwill, wanted to protect her and stated clear as day that any target placed on her head would have to go through him. But Em couldn’t go through with setting up house with her oldest friend. Despite that, Logan agreed he’d do just about anything to keep her safe, even helping her execute her plan to take out the men responsible for Wes’s death.
Logan kicked the door closed and slung both muscled arms across his chest. “We need to talk about the dope exchange, Em, or would you rather dry hump our new employee some more? It might help knock some goddamn sense into you.” He scrubbed a disgruntled hand over his face. “Because hell if I know what to do to make you see reason. This dope exchange is bad news. You’ve got to know that, right? What we’re about to do so you can fulfill a personal vendetta is fucking stupid.”
She lifted her chin, the chaotic emotions trying to swallow her whole slowly fading as she geared up to address her vice president and long-time friend. “My personal life is none of your business. We made a deal, remember? Take out the real bad guy.”
Widening his stance, he shifted against the door frame, both arms falling at his sides. “Yeah, I remember. How could I forget?” Logan laughed, the deadness in his deep voice unsettling her. “And it’s time you stop fooling yourself, because that personal life of yours happens to be the reason we’re going to all this trouble trying to get Cyrus alone so we can take him out for killing Wes.”
Choosing to ignore the barb, Em riffled through the paperwork on her desk. “I’m taking it you had a bad night?”
They stared at each other a minute more, and then Logan took a step back. The growing distance in their friendship expanded, and she felt the oxygen rush out of her lungs.
He shrugged. “Just normal club bullshit, that’s all.”
Shit. It wasn’t like Logan to keep tight-lipped around her. When had it gotten so bad between them? The moment you decided to seek the lonely road to revenge, honey.
“Cade won’t be a problem.”
“What about you?” Logan asked, unease tainting his voice. “Any hang-ups I should know about on your end of things? Word on the street is that those bogus drug buys you set up have worked wonders. There are even a few lovely pictures of you and those empty envelopes floating about. I made sure they got in the right hands. Like the Houston Police Department.”
Em fished the file cabinet keys out of her back pocket. “Thanks.” She tossed them at Logan. “You’ll need those in case something happens to me.”
Logan crouched down, his gaze steady, and asked, “What’s this?”
My lifeline. All the shit that could bring down Daddy’s precious club. Ask me anything, and I could tell you another member’s se
cret to toss on the fire. I could tell you more about yourself, Logan…so much stuff that it’d make your head spin. Don’t worry, I removed your secrets from the file. I always protect the people I care about. Always. And now I’m giving you the one thing you’ve deserved from the start…a peace offering for having my back.
“My little black book of secrets,” she said. “It’s yours now. Yours to do with whatever you please, okay?”
“Fuck.” Logan scooped up the keys and stood. “This is crazy, Em. Promise me you’ll stay away from Cyrus until Friday.”
She nodded.
“I’ll keep an eye on Benedict,” her vice president affirmed. “You just lay low. Our friendship is all I have left, Em. So don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
With a shaky breath, she faked a brave face and edged past him toward the door. “We still good to meet up with the Vipers? I want this all to go down clean.”
His face morphed into a frown. “You don’t have to get your hands bloody. I can handle taking out the shit.”
“Good,” she said, reaching to open the office door. “That’s exactly what we need them to think. And I’ll be fine. Not like I haven’t grown up around this shit all my life.”
The vice president caught her by the arm and pulled her to him. “Let me drive you across state lines tonight. I can get us into Mexico by dawn.” He looked at her, his hazel eyes a desperate plea. “They’ll kill you, Em.”
“I’m dead no matter what. You and I both know that.” She pushed the door open. “Come on, we can chat more while I walk you to your bike.”
They’d barely made headway into the garage when laughter sounded somewhere in the darkness, and she glanced up to find Cade lounged back against an old Harley. She couldn’t help it. Her gaze immediately fell on his muscular, tattooed arms, the same arms that had held her upright in a women’s bathroom while he delivered the best damn orgasm she’d ever experienced.
“Guessing he’s the reason why you handed me off to two strippers,” Cade grumbled, his voice rough as a sand belt.
