by Nic Starr
“But you are a good guy. No matter what you say, you’re worth saving! I’ve seen what you’re doing, and I know it’s coming from the right place.” Finn thumped his chest. “Your heart’s in the right place.”
“Listen here, Finn, and you listen good. Someone tried to save me once. Tried to get me support, paid for me to go into rehab—fuck—they nearly sacrificed their career for me too. I couldn’t do it then, and I can’t do it now. It’s too late for me. But it’s not too late for you. Just a little bit longer, and you can get away from this place, and hopefully me too. One day we’ll both be living far away from here. You need to focus on that, not on me. Got it? I’ve got my job to do, and you’ve got yours. We can’t lose sight of that, or we’ll both be fucked. Listen, if something happens to me—”
“Nothing’s going to happen—” Even as he said the words, Finn knew he was lying. Being involved with the Soldiers meant anything could happen.
“Fuck, Finn. Just listen.” Pete stepped closer, urgency in his voice. “If something happens to me, you need to go to Mitch. You need to tell him what’s going on with Rocky, with the club. You need to tell him what’s in the books. You need to tell him everything.”
“Okay.” He nodded reluctantly.
“I mean it. You can trust him. The rest of them are arseholes, but not Mitch. Mitch, he’s one of the real good guys. He’ll be on your side; he’ll help you.”
Warmth flooded Finn’s chest at the words, at hearing Pete validate what Finn felt about Mitch, only it faded fast. “I know you worked with Mitch before, but he’s involved in all of this. He does what Rocky says, just like the rest of us. He knows what goes down around here. He can’t be that good a guy, no matter how trustworthy you think he is.” Finn felt disloyal uttering those words. His gut told him he could trust Mitch—fuck, he could trust him with his life, but….
“You can,” Pete insisted. “There’s stuff you don’t know, stuff I want to tell you. For now you’ll just need to trust me on this.”
They both turned at the sound of heavy footsteps and saw Rocky, Stack, and Mitch heading their way across the car park.
Pete gripped his arm, pulling him close and speaking low. “There’s no time to talk now, so just trust me on this. I’ll make sure we can catch up later this week, and I’ll tell you everything I know. Mitch is on our side, Finn.”
Finn’s mind spun as he tried to make sense of what Pete was saying. On our side?
“Just the two people I wanted to see.” Rocky grinned as he joined them. “We’re going back to my place for a party. You coming?”
“Sure.” Pete’s words were directed at Rocky, but his eyes pleaded with Finn, no doubt looking for Finn’s confirmation that he understood. Finn nodded, a brief dip of his head, hoping he conveyed that he’d do as Pete asked—if something went wrong, he’d talk to Mitch. Pete was on edge, and he wanted to reassure his friend that he didn’t need to worry about him. Once he saw Pete’s face relax, Finn turned to his brother.
“I need to close up here,” Finn said. “And I’m still beat from being sick. I’ll give the party a miss.”
“Yeah. But nah. That won’t be happening.” Rocky swung an arm around Finn’s neck and hauled him against him. To anyone else it would look like a friendly hug, but the force against his throat made it obvious Rocky was delivering a message. “Wouldn’t want you to miss all the fun. It’s a celebration of sorts. Stack’s closed another deal. Things are definitely going in our favor at the moment. I think you might be our lucky charm, little brother.” Rocky grazed his knuckles over Finn’s hair as he pulled his head down into a noogie.
Stack laughed, no doubt at what he perceived as casual brotherly antics, or maybe he liked to see Finn squirm. In fact, it was probably enjoyment at seeing Finn being pushed around, given Stack was the type of guy who’d get his thrills from seeing someone kick a puppy.
As Rocky’s arm left his neck, Finn met Stack’s cold eyes head-on and forced a smile to his face, although inwardly he was seething. He knew he’d eventually relent and end up doing what Rocky demanded, but there was no way he was giving in too easily. He not only wanted to stand his ground in front of his brother and his cronies, but he wanted to get some time with Mitch, to feel him out about the stuff Pete was hinting at. He didn’t want to spend hours hanging around at Rocky’s place watching the guys drink beer and getting wasted with club groupies.
He straightened and took a deep breath. “I’ve got stuff to take care of. You don’t need me around. You’ve got plenty of people who’ll be happy enough to party with you.” He took a step back, then turned to Mitch. “Give me a hand tidying a few things up, then I’ll be ready to go.”
Before he’d taken another step, Rocky grabbed him by the wrist and swung him around. Pain flared as his arm was wrenched backward, and he found himself yanked up against his brother’s body. Rocky’s grip around his wrist was excruciating, but even that faded as his arm was pulled farther back, and the agony flashed into his shoulder.
“Fuck!”
His knees buckled as his vision went white around the edges. Finn swallowed the lump in his throat and focused on breathing. A couple of deep breaths, and the world regained clarity, although the pressure on his arm and shoulder didn’t let up.
“You’ll do what I tell you to do, kid, and don’t you forget it,” Rocky hissed against his ear, his breath hot against Finn’s cheek. “I’ve got no fucking idea why you keep trying this shit, but I’m the one in charge. The sooner you learn that, the sooner we’ll start getting along. Stop making things tougher on yourself than they need to be.”
Finn opened his eyes. Stack stood with a sneer on his face. Pete was staring at the ground, kicking the butt he’d stomped out earlier, obviously avoiding the scene in front of him. But it was Mitch, as Finn struggled in Rocky’s hold, that caused a blast of pain in Finn’s chest that rivaled the agony in his shoulder. Arms folded across his chest, not a flicker of emotion passed across Mitch’s features as he held Finn’s gaze. Finn could understand Pete’s reluctance to get involved, but he thought he’d see some sympathy in Mitch’s reaction. How the hell can he stand there and watch Rocky hurt me? Finn knew there’d be no way he could stand by and watch the same thing happen to Mitch. So much for Pete’s advice that Mitch was a good guy who’d help him!
When Rocky finally released his grip, the relief was immense. Not just reduction of the physical pain, but the ability to get away from Mitch’s scrutiny, to turn his back on the man who had just proven he was one of Rocky’s men and that Rocky and the club would always come first.
Any desire for quiet time alone with Mitch fled, and suddenly an evening at Rocky’s surrounded by people and noise sounded much more appealing.
Chapter TWENTY-TWO
MITCH FINALLY let himself draw a breath when Rocky released Finn. He’d been clenching his jaw so tightly it was amazing he didn’t snap a tooth. But standing there and doing nothing to intervene while Rocky had his hands all over Finn was torture. His initial instinct was to lay Rocky out, but then his training kicked in. If he hadn’t focused every fiber of his being on holding his body stock-still, he could have put everything at risk. Mitch could see the hurt in Finn’s eyes, but in the long run, it was better this way; once Rocky was behind bars, Finn would be out of his reach forever. He just hoped Finn saw it that way when the time came.
Mitch unclenched his hands, only now realizing he was digging his fingers into the muscles of his upper arms where he’d been gripping so tight—anything to stop himself from lashing out at Rocky. The relief at seeing Finn walk off was tempered by the pain of knowing he’d hurt him. What sort of man stood by while the guy he had feelings for got hurt? I’m an arsehole.
The secret was killing him, but he couldn’t reveal his cover to anyone. It was bad enough Pete knew who he was, but given it was Pete who had approached the cops and was feeding them information, Mitch was pretty confident he wouldn’t expose the operation. But he wasn’t so sure how Finn w
ould react to having everything he knew blown apart and the knowledge that Mitch played a key part in destroying his life.
It killed him to think of how Finn would react to the news that Mitch was a cop and had lied to him. Sure, they’d gotten to know each other over recent weeks, particularly due to the amount of time they spent together, and had shared a lot of information, but how much did they really know about each other? The fact that Finn had no idea Mitch was an undercover cop was just one example—a pretty fucking huge example—of how much they didn’t know about each other. What didn’t Mitch know about Finn? How would he honestly react when he found out Rocky was going away for a long time, and the club would be forced to disband? Finn said all the right things, had spoken about how much he hated his brother and the way the club had evolved during the days of Rocky’s rule, but when push came to shove, was that truthfully what he wanted? Would Finn be happy finding another life? He’d never known anything other than a life as part of an organization like the Soldiers of Fury, and maybe it was in his blood. That was one of the reasons Mitch was getting as much information as he could from Finn without being direct in asking him to do the dirty on his brother. He just couldn’t be sure how Finn would react and couldn’t afford to jeopardize the operation.
Regardless, Mitch had an urge to chase after Finn and apologize for his behavior. He wanted to spend more time with Finn, to know what he was thinking and remove that pained expression from his eyes.
Fuck! Get a grip.
He needed to clear his head and get back in the game. He couldn’t put Finn’s feelings before the case. His conflicting thoughts and emotions were driving him crazy. It was a damn good thing they were being forced to go to Rocky’s.
A couple of hours later, and Mitch had changed his tune—going to Rocky’s was a piss-poor idea.
He leaned against the wall of the living room, nursing a beer, the same beer he’d been holding for the last hour, and watched Finn.
Finn was on his fourth, or was it his fifth beer? A blonde girl in a tight green top was pressed against his side as she giggled at something Finn said and nestled closer. If she moved any nearer, she’d be sitting on his damn lap! Finn laughed, looking relaxed and carefree as he touched a lock of the girl’s hair. Mitch clenched his jaw and looked away. The sight that greeted him across the other side of the room wasn’t much better.
Pete and Rocky and a few of the guys were passing around a bong, the acrid stench of the smoke reaching across the spacious living room. Jesus, Pete looked sick. Mitch looked away before the sadness overwhelmed him. They had a history, and even though both of them had moved on, Mitch couldn’t stop wanting the best for him. Maybe after all of this was over, he could talk Pete into going to rehab again. Perhaps this time he’d stay for the duration and follow through with the program.
Another couple of hours passed before he was able to leave. Mitch pried Finn from the girl’s grasp, escorted him from the house, Finn pliant in his arms and wobbling down the long driveway. The party was still in full swing, music drifting in the night air, but the street was blissfully empty and dark, unlike the last time they’d been here. Mitch opened the door and helped Finn into the passenger seat of the Range Rover.
“Sorry,” Finn whispered as Mitch leaned through the door to fasten his seat belt. Mitch drew back, his face inches from Finn’s, and their gazes connected. Finn’s eyes glittered in the soft glow of the interior cabin light, the sorrow unmistakable.
“S’kay.”
“Not okay. I want….” Finn raised a hand and grasped Mitch behind the neck, holding him in place. “I want things to be…. I just wish things were different.”
His words were slightly slurred, and when Mitch touched their lips together, Finn tasted of beer. It was a brief kiss, and then he rested his forehead against Finn’s.
“I know, Finn. Me too.”
Chapter TWENTY-THREE
MITCH PARKED the Range Rover around the corner from the Fury. A quick glance at the time showed he wasn’t scheduled to meet with Rocky, Stack, and Lucky for another fifteen minutes. Finn was catching a ride to the pub with one of them.
Perfect. Time for a quick call to Ross.
“Well, it’s about bloody time.”
“Hello to you too.”
Ross chuckled, and there was the sound of rustling paper. For a moment Mitch wished he were sitting in the office with Ross instead of waiting for the likes of Rocky and his crew.
“What’s news? Tell me you have something for me.”
“Not enough. But some.” Mitch glanced around, checking activity on the street. “From what I’ve gleaned from Finn and the discussions he’s had with Rocky and the boys, it seems the date’s been set. Friday the tenth of February.”
“Yeah, got that info already.”
“Another note?”
“Uh-huh. It arrived this afternoon. It outlines a plan to collect the shipment when it clears customs and transport straightaway. It mentions unloading and reloading at a warehouse around Alexandria before moving the motorcycle parts to the CMC warehouse and getting the drugs heading down south ASAP.”
That information surprised Mitch because, when he’d questioned Pete, trying to get as much detail from him as possible, Pete swore he didn’t know the specific locations, but Mitch knew Rocky wouldn’t be stupid enough to risk bringing that volume of drugs back and having them on CMC premises, no matter for how short a time. “Was there an address?”
Ross’s sigh was clear. “No. Not specifically, just that the warehouse was located in Alexandria. I’m hoping you can find out something more. In the meantime, we’re checking out factories and warehouses in the area to see if there’s anything linked to the Soldiers. Plus we’re scouting out vacant premises. I’ve checked in with some confidential informants to see what the word is on the street and keeping an eye on activity with the Brutes.”
“What about just intercepting the shipment while it’s at customs like was discussed last week?”
“I wish. It would be so much easier. But we know there are others involved in this. We want to broaden the net, catch as many of the parties involved as possible at each point in the distribution chain. The foreign authorities confirmed the presence of the shipment before it left on the ship, and an inspection will take place here to confirm the drugs have arrived on our soil before the container is released.”
“Yeah, makes sense. Just wishful thinking, I guess. Anyway, I’ve got a few more names for you.” Mitch checked the notes on his phone before rattling off the names of some of Rocky’s associates. “Is Rowena able to shed any more light on Warren Jones, aka Stack? The guy’s really hard to read—cool as a cucumber but dangerous as all hell—and I could do with some help in working out how to crack him. He’s the person closest to Rocky, but he keeps all the information close to his chest. In fact, sometimes it’s like Stack is running the place, as Rocky seems to rely on him a hell of a lot. And Rocky seems really on edge lately.”
“On edge?”
“Rocky’s the opposite of Stack. Where Stack is calm, Rocky seems rattled. From the physical signs and his behavior, I think he’s using, and I don’t just mean dabbling. It’s worrying, Ross.” Mitch took a deep breath. “A guy wielding the kind of power Rocky has, going off the rails, has the potential to cause a lot of damage.” The image of Finn’s face when Rocky hit him flashed in Mitch’s mind.
The sound of Ross’s voice brought him back to the present. “I’ll see if I can find out anything additional about Warren Jones. But you be careful, Mitch. It worries me that your identity is at Peter’s mercy. What if he slips up and says something? The longer this thing drags on, the more chance there is of that happening.”
“I’ll be careful. We only need to hold out another week and a half. Listen, Ross, I’m going to have to go. The boys will be turning up at any moment, and I need to get inside the pub.”
“No worries, mate. Stay in touch.”
“Will do.”
Mitch term
inated the call and shoved the phone deep into his jacket pocket before making his way around the corner to the Fury. He bought a beer and found a table in the beer garden. This area of the pub wasn’t crowded so early in the afternoon—in fact, a few of the tables were empty. He could see the street from the table where he sat, and even that was fairly quiet. The afternoon sun beat down on the paved area, so he shrugged off his jacket and slung it across the back of his chair.
The familiar roar of some bikes drew Mitch’s gaze to the road beyond the brick wall that separated the beer garden from the footpath. Out on the street, Rocky and Stack slipped their motorbikes into the space between a couple of cars. Across the road, Pete was reverse parking his ute. A horn tooted, someone too impatient to wait for the large dark blue Toyota HiLux to clear the road. The horn sounded again as the car pulled out and swerved around Pete’s ute, the impatient driver flipping Pete the bird.
“Arsehole!”
Rocky had taken off his helmet and yelled after the accelerating car, and Mitch couldn’t help chuckling at his outraged expression. As if Rocky were the king of road courtesy. He was more like the poster child for road rage.
Rocky and Stack were securing their bikes as another Harley pulled in. The women sitting at a table across the beer garden from Mitch and obviously enjoying after-work drinks, judging from their tailored outfits and laptop bags, were looking at the guys on the bikes. The loud Harleys always seemed to draw attention, particularly when they arrived anyplace en masse.
Mitch looked across the road to see Finn get out of the HiLux. Mitch smiled wide at the sight of the man he was coming to realize had captured a special part of him. Maybe it was too early to say it was love, but there was definitely something that felt a hell of a lot like it, or not far off—a warmth, a sense of completeness, like something had been missing until Finn entered his life. Something that scared the shit out of Mitch.
