by Nic Starr
“Seriously, Rocky, he told me nothing. Just that the guys won’t be available to operate CMC for a few days and you want me to hold down the fort.”
“And that’s exactly right. You need to step up. We need a Cummings at the wheel when I’m not around.”
“But what about Stack? He’s your 2IC. Why isn’t he doing it?”
“Because I need him elsewhere, and like I said, it won’t be Stack taking over the place eventually. It’ll be you.”
Finn paused, and his Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed deeply. “I’m still not sure what’s going on. Why do you need Stack? And Blue? Surely you’ve got other people you can trust to do whatever it is.”
“Not for something this big. And it’s safer if you’re not closely involved, so stop asking so many questions.” Rocky cast a glance at Mitch, and Mitch shrugged. It wouldn’t do to appear too keen to hear the details of what was going on, but he wished Rocky would say something, give him anything—just a whiff of what was planned to go down.
Finn snorted. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s ‘need-to-know,’ and I don’t need to know.”
Rocky grinned. “Good boy. You’re catching on.”
“I suppose Mitch doesn’t need to know either.”
“Spot-on. So you’ll shut up about it if you know what’s good for you.” Rocky levered himself out of the chair with a grunt. “I’m going to find Ginger. You boys play nice now.”
Once Rocky was out of earshot, Mitch shuffled his chair closer. “What was that all about?”
“Fucked if I know. Some deal’s going down, and that’s all I know.” Finn looked pissed off.
“Like he said, maybe he’s keeping you out of the loop for your own protection?”
“Bullshit!” Finn snapped. “He’s keeping me in the dark because he likes control. If he wants me involved in the running of the Furies, then he needs to be prepared to open up. I’m family, for Crissakes!” Finn threw back the rest of his beer, which was no doubt warm by now.
Mitch wanted the information as much as Finn, if not more, but decided not to push it. Particularly since Rocky stood by the doors that led into the house, deep in conversation with Pete. He’d corner Pete and get what intel he could from him. As if knowing Mitch was thinking about him, Pete lifted his eyes, and studied Mitch for a long minute before looking away. Rocky reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag before throwing an arm around Pete’s shoulders and leading him into the house. Fuck! Mitch wanted Pete sober, not flying. He turned back to Finn, who was watching Rocky and Pete too.
“Maybe leave it for now and try again later,” Mitch said. “Rocky might be in a more receptive mood.”
Finn gave a humorless chuckle. “He’s the one getting stoned, and I’m the one who can’t be trusted.”
“Listen, how about getting something to eat. You haven’t had much all day and—”
Finn stood. “I’m not a goddamn kid. I don’t need looking after! I wish you’d all stop trying to be my protector.”
“—and the barbecue smells great,” Mitch finished, speaking to Finn’s back as he stormed off.
Urgh. Can this day get any worse? Reporting fuck all was not going to go down well at headquarters. He needed to get things moving.
Mitch rose and abandoned his empty water bottle, gave a regretful look at the door where Rocky and Pete had exited, and hightailed it down the side of the house where Finn had disappeared.
FINN STORMED out of the house. How fucking dare he try to tell me what to do?
He was sick and tired of Rocky pushing him around, and fed up with Mitch treating him like a child. How bloody embarrassing to have the man he dreamed about, had hot sexual fantasies about, think he needed continual supervision and protection. For God’s sake, Finn was a grown man, and it frustrated him no end. What did he have to do to prove he was a capable adult?
Finn had calmed down somewhat by the time he stalked the length of the winding driveway. The wall of green hedge ended, providing a glimpse of the road beyond the wide-open gates. Thank goodness the automatic gates were open because he hadn’t had the presence of mind to press the button to open them before he fled the house.
He walked through the opening and stopped at the Range Rover, which was parked a short distance away, automatically dropping his hands into his pockets to seek out the keys. Fuck! He didn’t have the keys because he wasn’t even allowed to drive himself around. He had a driver. He had Mitch.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
A jolt of pain traveled from foot to hip after he kicked the tire.
“That’s not going to help, you know.”
Finn spun and glared at Mitch, who luckily wasn’t smiling—because if he had been, if there’d been even a hint of a smirk, Finn would have walked right up to him and wiped the smile from his handsome face.
He took a deep breath. “Not now, Mitch. I’m not in the mood, and I don’t want to hear it.”
“I don’t know what’s put such a bee in your bonnet or what that whole thing was about, but there’s no point stewing over it. You know Rocky. You know how he thinks, and you can’t let it get to you. Don’t give him that power over you.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Mitch folded his arms across his broad chest. God, the guy looked good in a tight T-shirt, the tattoos on his biceps standing out in sharp relief on the defined muscles. “You think I don’t know how people like Rocky operate?” He raised a brow and studied Finn, obviously waiting for a response. Mitch quirked his lip, just a small lift at one corner as the silence stretched.
“Jesus, Mitch. Don’t look at me like that.”
“That’s a lot of ‘don’t’ from you today. You don’t want to hear what I have to say, then I don’t know what I’m talking about, and now I can’t look at you however I’m supposedly doing it. I’m having trouble keeping up with what I am allowed to do. I can’t even suggest we get something off the barbecue when I’m starving.”
Pop.
The sound was sudden and harsh and unmistakable. Maybe others would think the sharp sound was a car backfiring, but Finn immediately knew it was gunfire—loud and distinctive. A second after the gunshot, Finn was on his back on the ground. The relatively soft grass on the verge of the road cushioned his fall, but Mitch’s solid body holding his firmly in place knocked the wind out of him.
“Don’t move.” Mitch’s voice was a stern whisper, his breath hot against Finn’s ear. “Stay down.” The urgency was evident in his tone, and Finn stilled immediately.
His heart beat a rapid tattoo, his fingers tingling from the rush of adrenaline to his extremities.
A car accelerated, the engine roaring. Another shot.
Mitch panted against Finn’s throat, the sound harsh even to Finn’s ears, which were still ringing from the gunshot. Finn’s own breathing was labored, his mind in a mess, trying to work out what he needed to do—obey Mitch or get as far away from danger as he could? He struggled for a moment, his body trying for flight in a natural response to the situation, but Mitch’s weight kept him pinned to the ground.
The car roared down the street, tires screeching as it took the corner too fast. The sound faded, and the resulting silence made it all seem like a strange dream—frightening commotion one minute, peaceful calm the next. Finn blinked against the sharp brightness of the sun, aware of the screech of a cockatoo flying overhead. Someone down the street was mowing their lawn, the sound of the machine a constant drone in the distance.
Finn looked at Mitch as he rose on his hands, using his arms to support his weight and finally freeing Finn to take a proper inhale. He sucked in a breath. “I… ah….”
Mitch’s face was close, his brown eyes full of worry.
“Are you okay?”
Am I okay? His limbs still tingled, and it was hard to catch a breath. He was light-headed and confused. And he was hard. Hard? Oh Jesus! Lying on his back on the grass with Mitch pinning him down, his hips held down by Mitch’
s pelvis pressing into his own. A groan escaped.
“Finn?”
Finn looked into Mitch’s eyes, saw the answering confusion, and looked away quickly. He couldn’t hold Mitch’s gaze, too afraid Mitch would see what was bubbling through him—not pain, not fear, just plain unadulterated lust. He struggled to move, to get out from under Mitch, but all the movement did was rub his erection against Mitch’s groin. As hard as it was to deny his body the friction it craved and to stop moving, he stilled.
“I’m fine. Just let me up.” His voice was hoarse as he growled at Mitch and pushed at his chest.
Mitch struggled to his feet. “Sorry. I’m so sorry, Finn.” Mitch scanned the surroundings before holding out a hand, and when Finn responded with his own, Mitch grasped his wrist and hauled him up. “Are you okay? I don’t think you were hit, but that thump on the ground could have done some damage.”
“You think?” Finn quirked a brow and brushed himself off, wincing slightly as the action pulled at his shoulder. Mitch saw the flinch and immediately had his hands on Finn, examining his upper arms and shoulder.
Finn shook him off. “For God’s sake! Don’t touch me!” The last thing he needed was Mitch’s hands on his body and Mitch’s attention on him. Not while he was still sporting a hard-on.
Mitch’s gaze dropped to his feet. “Sorry.”
“And stop saying you’re sorry!”
Finn turned to the gates, the sound of boots running up the driveway drawing his attention. Rocky, Peter, and Stack appeared. Finn’s eyes widened. Not because of the presence of the three men, but because Rocky and Stack were holding handguns.
Any remaining erection disappeared in an instant. Finn knew Rocky was involved in illegal shit up to his eyeballs, knew he mixed with people most likely even worse than himself, but up until now, Finn had managed to stay out of the way of guns. It might have been naive, but he liked to ignore the darker aspects of the Soldiers of Fury and just pretend they were bad guys who did a bit of stealing, dabbled in a little extortion, and traded a few drugs. Finn snorted at his own ridiculous thought process and bit back the burst of hysterical laughter that wanted to escape.
Things had definitely escalated well beyond the petty crime Rocky had been involved in when Finn was a teenager and lived at home. There was no point trying to keep his head in the sand. But on the positive side, it reinforced Finn’s idea he was doing the right thing.
While Finn stood and battled his guilty conscience and rising panic, Mitch was a man of action. He strode over to Rocky and the guys with a hissed instruction to put away the weapons. “This is a suburban street, for crying out loud. Get rid of the guns and do it now.”
Chapter THIRTEEN
“FOR FUCK’S sake, I was lying on top of him with a hard-on. He looked horrified.”
Ross shrugged. “Maybe the kid didn’t notice.”
“Didn’t notice a throbbing erection pressed into his dick? Sure, that sounds plausible.”
The sound of Mitch’s boots hitting the linoleum was loud as he crossed to the fridge and grabbed out a couple of bottles of water. He tossed one in Ross’s direction.
“Well, he was just shot at and thrown to the ground. Maybe he was more focused on other stuff, like protecting his life.”
Mitch rolled his eyes and began to pace the small kitchen of the safe house before finally stopping in front of Ross.
“What am I going to do?”
“Do? About what? The kid?”
Mitch frowned at the term “kid.” He hadn’t thought of Finn like that in forever. “About the—” Mitch waved his hand in the air. “Never mind.”
Ross twisted the cap off his bottle and took a few long swallows. His amusement at Mitch’s situation was obvious as he leaned casually against the benchtop and tried to hold back the smile. Mitch scowled and stalked the few paces into the lounge room.
Ross followed and lowered himself into an armchair. “Seriously, Mitch, I think it’s best ignored. I mean, what can you say? ‘Sorry I popped a boner, it won’t happen again. Sure, I think you’re hot but I can keep it in my pants.’”
“Not helping, mate.” Mitch reached for the pack of cigarettes on the coffee table but fell back into his seat when Ross shook his head slightly. “I think you’re right. I’ll just hope he doesn’t say anything. But fuck, you should have seen his face.”
Blood surged at the memory of Finn under him—eyes wide as he squirmed and struggled, grinding his body against Mitch’s erection, the sound of Finn’s groan. Jesus! He had a flash of memory, the feel of the answering hardness pressed against his own. Finn hadn’t been pissed off at Mitch throwing him to the ground and holding him down; he had been turned on!
“Fuck,” Mitch whispered.
“It’ll be okay, mate.” Ross reached out and patted him on the knee. “If he does confront you about it, just blame it on the adrenaline, the physical response to the drama, plus being forced onto him. A perfectly natural response, right?”
“Yeah, sure.” Mitch was only listening to Ross with half an ear. Am I right? Was Finn’s reaction due to the fear of how he thought I would react to his predicament, or maybe embarrassment? Or am I imagining what I want to believe? “This changes everything,” he murmured.
“It doesn’t have to. Just brush it under the carpet, wave it off as bullshit, change the topic.” Ross stood. “Anyway, I want another water. Want one?”
Mitch nodded absently, although he’d hardly drunk from the bottle in his hand. He swallowed back the cold water, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to fuck up the case, and the way things were going, he might have done something that would put his position with the Furies, and with Finn, at risk. Damn!
“Here you go.” Ross thrust the new bottle at him and sat back down in the armchair. “There’s no update on the drive-by shooting, but I’ll let you know as soon as we have confirmation it’s linked to the Brutes. Let’s go over what we know so far.”
They spent the next half hour discussing the ins and outs of the case. Forensics was wrapping up the investigation into the murder of Russell Hutchins, and arrests were about to be made. They were trying to keep things from the media, but these things had a habit of getting out, and once Rocky had confirmation the Brutes had taken out one of his gang, there was bound to be retaliation. On one hand, the last thing they needed was more violence in an already tense and escalating situation, but on the other, bringing things to a head could be advantageous. Lana was deep into the financial analysis of CMC, locating bank accounts and tracking transactions. Each employee on the payroll was being further investigated, including their assets and financial trails.
“So what news do you have on your part?” Ross asked.
“I overheard Finn talking with one of the guys. Lucky Reed. I couldn’t get close enough to hear exactly what was going on, and I tried to get some information from Finn, but that didn’t get me far. He clammed up as soon as I started asking questions, not that he knew much, anyway. It seems the powers that be in the club are keeping Finn pretty much in the dark.”
“That’s a bit strange.”
“Not really. The more I think about it and the more I see each day when dealing with these guys, it’s obvious that Rocky has a total power fixation. It’s not just the usual leadership focus you’d expect from someone with that kind of role in a club. Rocky’s different.” Mitch ran a hand through his hair as he thought back to what he’d been able to observe during the week. “Some of this is just my supposition, totally unsupported by factual evidence, but it’s the small things that add up.”
“Like what?” Ross raised a brow.
“Firstly it’s the whole angle of how he was raised to power. We’ve heard that Rocky hated being ruled by his father and was even worse once Carl Junior took over despite the rest of the club voting him in. Rocky didn’t like what he saw as the traitorous behavior of his club brothers and was known to backstab anyone who was vocal in support of Carl. Then of course there’s the
whole rumor that Rocky played a role in getting Carl out of the way.”
“Yeah, that’s one way to climb to the top.”
“I reckon the rest of the club was too shit scared not to vote Rocky in when the time came.”
“I agree with you there.”
“All his actions have been about power and control, and now he’s trying to exert that control over Finn.”
“How so?”
“Well, me, for a start. I mean, you might call him ‘the kid,’ but in reality, Finn is a grown man. He’s twenty-three and has a driver’s license. He’s quite capable of getting himself to and from work, and anywhere else he wants to go, for that matter.”
“I thought you were being employed in a bodyguard capacity.”
“That’s part of it, and the whole shooting incident backs up the legitimacy of Rocky wanting Finn to have someone watch out for him, but there’s more to it than that. Supposedly Rocky only supported Finn’s education so he’d have someone qualified and reputable alongside him at the helm, but he’s keeping Finn in the dark.”
“That’s the part that doesn’t make sense.”
“What if Rocky’s realized just how smart Finn is? What if he’s seeing his little brother as possible competition for his own leadership position? He could be backpedaling.”
“Keeping key information from Finn would have the effect of hobbling his progress.”
“Exactly.”
“So what does that mean for your ability to gather intel? You’re not going to get much if you’re tied to Finn and he’s being kept in the dark.”
Mitch stood and walked with his empty bottle to the bin. He threw it in with the recycling. “I’ll figure something out. I have to.”
“Well, you’d better do it quickly. Between the killing of Russell Hutchins and whatever this upcoming deal is, it sounds like things are coming to a head. Let’s hope Pete slips us another note soon.”
Mitch sighed and echoed Ross’s words. “Let’s hope so.”
Chapter FOURTEEN
THE NOISE inside the pub was at levels that grated Finn’s nerves. While he loved listening to live music and the whole uplifting spirit of being part of a crowd and getting lost in music, the atmosphere at the Fury didn’t compete. This wasn’t the young and vibrant music-loving crowd. There weren’t happy smiles and laughter. Instead there were two large tables filled with Rocky and his mates, plus all their girlfriends. Instead of a band, the focus was on the television and some sporting activity Finn was doing his best to tune out. Stack was having an argument with Blue, and the raised voices competed with the multiple other conversations going on around the table. However, it wasn’t long before all the attention had turned to the two arguing men.
