by Nic Starr
“I’m fine. What are you doing here?”
Mitch ignored the question. “Are you sure? Do you know what you’ve got yourself mixed up in? These guys are dangerous, Pete.”
“I can take care of myself.” Pete flicked his gaze to the table before returning to Mitch. “But not if you fuck this up for me. You need to stay away.”
“Can’t do that, Pete.”
“If Rocky or any of the others discover you’re a cop, or find out….”
“That we were seeing each other?”
Pete swallowed heavily, and he nodded. “My life wouldn’t be worth living.”
“I’m here to help, not to put you in danger.”
“Jesus, Mitch. I’m not sure what you expect from me.”
“Just don’t blow my cover. I need an in with these guys, and you’re it. I need an excuse to hang around and hopefully get in Rocky’s good books. You’re driving for him, right?”
Pete nodded. “Making some deliveries.”
“I assume it’s not all legit.”
Pete glanced over at the table again. “Now’s not a good time.”
“Drugs?”
“Fuck, Mitch. I said not now.”
“Are you safe?”
“What the hell do you think? I’m working for bloody Rocky Cummings,” Pete hissed. “If I had a choice, do you think I’d be here? I’m doing what I have to do.”
“Do you need us to get you out of there?”
“No! I just need to be left alone. I need you to walk away and pretend you don’t know me. Fuck it! I need you to have never shown up at all.”
“Your drinks are ready.”
They both turned at the announcement from the bartender. Mitch handed over some cash and whispered to Pete while he waited for his change. “I need to meet with you. Tell me where and when.”
“I’m staying at Rocky’s. I’ll have to let you know.” Pete picked up a tray of drinks and left. He was already seated by the time Mitch put the tray he was carrying on the table. Pete had seated himself between Rocky and another guy, forcing Mitch to sit opposite.
Bottles of beer were passed around. Mitch took a large swig from his bottle, aware of the scrutiny he was under. Stack sat to his right and Rocky directly across from him, next to Pete. Three other guys took up the far end of the table and were engaged in conversation.
Rocky downed half his bottle before speaking. “So you’re looking to pick up some more cash?”
Mitch nodded, the beer bottle still at his lips. He swallowed. “Hell, yeah.”
Rocky nudged Peter with his elbow. “You’ll vouch for this guy?”
“Sure.” Pete didn’t sound sure. His voice was clipped, and he glared across the table. C’mon, Pete, don’t let me down. A couple of moments passed, and then Pete cleared his throat. “I have no reason not to trust him. He did right by me. Stood by me through some shit. Had my back.”
Pete met his gaze and gave an almost imperceptible nod. It was clear he meant what he said. Memories flooded back: those last few weeks together, the arguments about Pete’s recovery, and Pete’s insistence that Mitch didn’t have to feel guilty and stay any longer. It was as if Pete had resigned himself to his future and didn’t want to drag Mitch down any farther, so gave him a get-out-of-jail-free card.
“And you had mine,” Mitch said, raising his bottle in a toast.
Rocky’s voice cut through Mitch and Pete’s silent communication. “Come see me at the shop tomorrow. I’ve got something you can help me with.”
“Yeah? That’s great.”
Chapter EIGHT
“FINN. GET in here.”
Finn cringed at the sound of Rocky’s voice. He’d only just arrived and hadn’t even had time to put down his stuff. He straightened his shoulders as he entered his brother’s office.
“Morning,” he said.
“Hardly. It’s nearly midday. If I can get here early, so can you.”
Damn Rocky for interfering—Finn had planned to limit his time there by getting in late and leaving early. He didn’t need Rocky looking over his shoulder.
“Sorry.” Finn shrugged. “The train took longer than I thought. I’ll leave earlier tomorrow, and once I have a car, it won’t be a problem.”
“It wouldn’t be such a problem if you moved into my place. The trip is half the time as it takes to get out to yours.”
Finn stiffened. “I’ve told you, I’m happy out there, at least for the time being. I’ll make sure I’m on time in future.”
Rocky stood and walked around the desk. “That won’t be a problem anymore. I’ve found a solution.”
“A solution to what?”
“I’m giving you a driver.”
“A driver? What sort of driver?”
Rocky rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Finn. Didn’t they teach you anything at that fancy university of yours? A driver, as in someone to drive you around, make sure you turn up where you’re meant to be and on time.”
“I don’t need a driver. I’m perfectly capable of driving myself.”
“Come with me, and I’ll introduce you.” Rocky totally ignored him, and Finn wanted to punch him as he walked toward the door. Instead he took a couple of deep breaths and followed.
The staff room attached to the workshop was a large room with a kitchen area and a couple of tables where the guys could sit and eat or just hang out. The first thing Finn noticed was the gorgeous guy he ran into last week. His body’s response was immediate; his pulse sped up, and his mouth went dry. Strange, I thought he was a customer.
The guy immediately pushed back from the table and stood. He was well over six feet tall, and standing at his full height accentuated just how well built he was—broad shouldered and strongly muscled but exhibiting grace in his movements as he approached. Finn swallowed heavily as the man gave him the once-over, but it was Rocky the guy approached. He thrust out his hand, and Rocky shook it.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d turn up today,” Rocky said.
“I said I would, and here I am. I’m a man of my word.”
Rocky gave a curt nod. “Stack give you a rundown of what’s needed?”
The guy glanced at Finn before giving his attention back to Rocky. “He did. General driving, a few errands. Making sure things run smoothly. Helping your brother out.”
Finn’s eyes widened.
Rocky smirked. “That’s one way of putting it. Basically you need to look after this kid here.”
Finn stepped out of the way when Rocky tried to throw an arm around his shoulders. They were talking about him like he wasn’t even there, and he refused to be treated as if he were invisible, and definitely refused to be treated like a child.
“I absolutely don’t need a driver or help of any sort—”
“Shut it, Finn. We’ve been through this before. You’ll do whatever I tell you to do.”
Finn inhaled a deep breath. Show no fear. Don’t be pushed around. “It really isn’t necessary, and”—Finn waved a hand in the guy’s direction—“he’ll be bored because there’ll be nothing for him to do.”
Rocky stepped closer and narrowed his eyes. They were red-rimmed, obvious evidence of a big night the previous evening, but his glare was cold, as was his tone. “Shut. It.”
“Jesus, Rocky. Why do you always have to have things your way?”
Rocky’s nostrils flared, and Finn immediately regretted his words, but then Rocky shot him a sly smile. “I’ll tell you what. You move into my place, and you won’t need to have a shadow. Insist on staying out in the boondocks, then he stays.” Rocky jerked his head in the direction of the guy who stood quietly on the sidelines, observing them. Finn couldn’t read his thoughts but suddenly wished Rocky weren’t making him seem like such a moron. What sort of twenty-three-year-old lives his life under his brother’s thumb? Fuck.
It was another case of picking his battles, and in this instance, Finn decided to back down. There could be worse things than being driven around by someone
who looked like an action movie hero, and it appeared he wouldn’t be able to change Rocky’s mind, anyway.
“All right. I’ll take the driver.”
“I knew you’d see sense. Mitch will bring you to and from work. He’ll keep an eye on things to make sure you don’t get into any trouble.”
Finn rolled his eyes. “What sort of trouble would I get into?”
“Keep your nose clean, do what I say, and there won’t be any trouble.” Rocky looked at the guy. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted, but I want to speak to you before you leave. You can show Finn to his office when you’ve finished here. Here’re the keys to the Range Rover. It’s parked out back.” Rocky tossed a set of keys the guy easily caught with lightning-fast reflexes.
“No worries,” he said as he pocketed the keys.
With another curt nod, Rocky turned on his heels and left the room. Finn immediately followed and grabbed Rocky outside. “Who is this guy?” Finn hissed. “You haven’t told me anything about him.”
“He’s new around here. He’s a friend of Peter’s. They used to work together.”
“And you fully trust him?”
“Not on your life.” Rocky laughed. “But Peter’s got a lot riding on this, or else he won’t get his patch, so I trust his judgment. He’s not going to vouch for someone he doesn’t believe in, and if he’s stupid enough to do so, then it’ll be more than just his patch he’ll lose. But I’m not taking any chances. We’ll check Mitch out, and he’ll need to prove himself in case Peter’s assessment is off. But don’t worry, little brother, he’s only going to drive you around, nothing dangerous, and we’ll keep an eye on him. Once he’s proven himself and he checks out, then we’ll look at how else he can add value around here.”
“So I’m part of his test?”
“If you want to look at it that way. Now rack off. I need to get some shit done, not stand around gas-bagging to you all day.”
Rocky stalked off across the back parking lot, returning to the main building. The only thing that made Finn feel a little better was the knowledge Peter knew and vouched for the man. If he was someone Rocky had dragged from wherever it was he usually dragged his arsehole people from, it would be a different story. He turned and went back to the staff room.
The guy was still standing where they’d left him. Finn paused momentarily at the door, then took a deep breath and approached. The hand that shook his was strong, with a sure grip. The surge of electricity was instant. Oh fuck. Maybe it wouldn’t be so easy to hang out with a guy who looked like an action movie hero, particularly one who sent all the blood racing to his dick.
“Mitch Nielsen,” the guy said. “Looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”
Oh fuck, indeed.
Chapter NINE
FINN HAD managed to get quite a bit done. He’d started to familiarize himself with the business, which meant a morning of meetings with Frank, who managed the workshop, and Stack, who managed the sales side of the operation. He spent the afternoon with the past year’s tax returns and spreadsheets showing the financial performance—the official performance, at least—of the business. Overall, Cummings Motorcycles—or CMC—was a very successful business.
Finn stood wearily. He worked on his neck, extending to each side to loosen the pull he always got when he spent too many hours hunched over the computer. Tightness in his neck and shoulders was something he was very familiar with. It reminded him of all the hours he’d put in studying, hoping to do well at uni, the first step in forging a strong career path. Fat lot of good that did. I’m not exactly working my dream career here. The faint headache that niggled at his temples would fade when he got out of the office and into the fresh air. His back gave a satisfying crack as he twisted to get out the kinks. He couldn’t help the moan of satisfaction as his body got rid of the day’s tension.
“You looked like you enjoyed that.”
“Shit!” Finn jumped and spun around to see Mitch leaning casually against the doorframe.
“Sorry.” Mitch grinned. Yeah, really sorry.
“Are you ready to get out of here?” Finn asked. He flexed his fingers, the tingle from the scare Mitch had given him fading—damn adrenaline rush.
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? I’m the one at your beck and call, remember?” Mitch said. Finn studied him, expecting Mitch to be pissed off based on the comment he made, but Mitch was still smiling. Finn liked seeing the easy, relaxed version of Mitch, something he hadn’t seen in their earlier encounters. The man was sexy as all hell when he was serious, all strong-jawed masculinity and piercing gaze, but when he smiled, it caused something low in Finn’s belly to flutter.
He swallowed heavily, suddenly aware he hadn’t replied, and Mitch was looking at him with one eyebrow raised in question. “Ah, sure. Yeah. Just give me five to shut down here, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“I’ll wait out back, then.”
Mitch walked away, leaving Finn staring at the space where he’d just been standing. Butterflies had taken up residence in his stomach, partly due to his embarrassment at acting like a mumbling idiot, and now because of his apprehension about the ride home. All that time spent in close quarters with a guy he didn’t know, one who was on Rocky’s payroll and no doubt wasn’t a choir boy, no matter how much Peter vouched for him. Peter’s endorsement would be about the guy’s trustworthiness and his experience in conducting illegal business, not providing a testimonial that Mitch was a nice guy.
Finn shook his head to clear his thoughts and focused on getting out of the office, a place that felt like his prison. He exited each of the systems he’d been working in, making sure he fully logged out of everything before shutting down the computer. Rocky was a stickler for security and making sure nothing was left open and accessible should anyone, including staff, enter the office.
Once satisfied everything was secure, Finn grabbed his jacket and left the building.
The car Rocky had given him—or should that be Mitch?—was a Range Rover, not something Finn would have expected. Mitch lounged on the driver’s-side door, dragging on a cigarette as he looked around the parking area, but he straightened on Finn’s approach. He dropped the cigarette and ground the butt with his heel before taking a step. For a minute Finn thought he was going to walk around the car to open his door. Finn held up a palm, and Mitch stopped, instead turning and unlocking the vehicle with a click of the fob.
Once buckled in, they exited into peak-hour traffic, joining the lines of cars heading out of the city toward the west. Yes, it was going to be a long trip.
“Nice car,” Finn finally said to break the silence that had become uncomfortable, at least as far as he was concerned.
“Yeah, she’s okay to drive.”
“So have you done much driving?”
“Since I was old enough to get my license.” Mitch chuckled.
Finn shot him a scowl. “You know what I mean.”
Mitch glanced at him, the smile still on his face. “Oh, you mean driving, driving. Yeah, I’ve done a bit. Security is my area of expertise, and driving comes par for the course.”
“You’re a bodyguard?”
“Not specifically. I’ve done personal security but also ensured security and safe transit of goods.”
Finn could read into exactly what Mitch really meant—drug trafficking. Great! I have a drug-trafficking bodyguard to chauffeur me around.
“What do you do?” Mitch asked as he inched the car forward in the traffic.
“I thought my brother would have told you.”
“Rocky just said you work on the business side of things. I assumed that meant the accounts or administration or something like that.”
Finn sank down into the leather seat. He rubbed at his temple, where the dull ache still reminded him of its presence. “I’ve just finished uni. This is my first job except for some part-time work while I was studying.”
“What did you study?”
“Financi
al accounting and business management.”
Mitch let go a low whistle. “Wow. Brainiac, are you?”
“No. I just like working with figures.”
“So what made you want to work for Rocky?”
“Are you serious?” Finn sat straighter and pulled the seat belt that lay across his chest, suddenly choked by the firm band holding him back in the seat.
“Did I say something wrong?” Mitch glanced at him, the light reflecting off the surface of his aviator sunglasses so Finn couldn’t see his eyes.
“I don’t think you’re particularly observant, for a bodyguard. I thought you’d have picked up on the fact that Rocky wants me to work for him, and that’s why I’m there. What Rocky wants, Rocky gets.”
“I guess it is a family business?”
Finn snorted. It had been a family business until Rocky made sure there was no family. Finn looked out the window at the passing traffic, hands clenched tightly.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Mitch said.
Finn took a deep breath. It wasn’t Mitch’s fault the topic of Rocky and the control Rocky had over Finn’s life always pissed him off. “That’s okay. I’d just prefer not to talk about Rocky.”
“Sure. You want the radio on?” At Finn’s nod, Mitch turned on the car stereo that was tuned in to some crap talk-back radio station. “Sorry, I’m not sure what you like to listen to.”
“I don’t care. Listen to whatever you want.” The sound of a latest pop hit filled the car. If it had been Rocky, the music would have been heavy rock. Whatever. He was used to tuning out bad music. Finn crossed his arms and slouched in his seat.
“If we’re going to do this drive twice a day, five days a week, then I think we need to sort out the music now,” Mitch said. His voice was light. “I don’t know about you, but I’ll go batshit crazy if I have to listen to something I can’t stand. So what kind of music do you like, Finn?”
Well, wasn’t this a turn-up for the books? Someone asking Finn what he wanted. Finn couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Maybe when he’d been speaking to his older brother, Carl, about his future. Carl had been interested to know what Finn wanted to do with his life, had asked questions and listened to Finn’s answers. It had been a long, long time since anyone had done that.
