Undercover Heat [Men of Iron Horse 3] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Morgan Fox

  When he finished caring for her, he took time for himself, still giving her most of the warm water. As they finished, he handed her a towel and then grabbed one for himself. He even took her hand in his as he helped her from the tub. He wasn’t as hard edged as he’d once appeared sitting at the table in Iron Horse. And even though she’d found his slightly whiskered face, short hair, and leather sexy, she liked this side of him, too. He was still slightly edgy, but he offered her something else.

  Tenderness.

  “I don’t work tonight,” she said, finishing getting dressed.

  He looked at her as he slid on his boots. “So, no reason to rush?”

  She moved to stand in front of him and he spread his legs to pull her close. With her hands resting on his shoulders, she shared, “No need to rush. I brought an overnight bag. If it’s all right with you, I’ll stay the night.”

  The slow smile the played at his lips had her lowering to take his mouth with hers. She kissed him gently at first, but when his fingers weaved through her hair and cupped the back of her head, she couldn’t help but straddling his lap and hold him tight.

  He eased back to look at her. “Are you sure it wasn’t me who won at bowling?”

  “Maybe we both did,” she muttered, kissing him again, savoring the taste of his lips.

  Chapter Twelve

  The week went by too fast for Quinn’s liking. Every night Brynn came to him after her shift at Iron Horse. Some nights, they’d made love, while others they just fell asleep holding one another. It felt good. He had no idea that it could be so amazing with a woman.

  What he loved most was the time they’d spent talking. She had the most normal childhood, something he never imagined. If she hadn’t told him that her parents were teachers, he might’ve assumed she’d come from a broken home, a runaway even. Which was completely opposite of who Brynn was. She had adoring parents, ones she still spent Sunday dinners with.

  The woman he was getting to know was smart, sexy, caring, and edgy. She wasn’t just one thing, she was a bit of everything and he loved that a lot. She was also funny and enjoyed being silly. There was never any reservation on her part about dropping a good sarcastic jab at him either.

  Sometimes he found himself staring at her, wondering what it was that made him crave something deeper. Two weeks was all it had taken him to fall for her. Two weeks was what it had taken him to hate himself for not being honest with her. Now, as he sat back, holding her against him as they watched late-night television, he hoped she wouldn’t hate him when the truth finally came out.

  Losing her, a woman he never realized he needed in his life, would crush him. Exhaling hard, he tried to shake the thoughts from his mind. Tonight he had to focus on the one thing he’d set into motion a week ago. As he did each night, he had to check out the motorcycle shop and do a little spy work.

  The moment Brynn drifted off to sleep, he slipped from the bed and made his way down to his motorcycle. He looked back one last time in the direction the woman he cared for deeply slept. Putting his bike in neutral, he pushed it out of the parking spot and far enough away to ensure he wouldn’t wake her. Then he made his way to the shop.

  His heart raced as he hopped over the fence and around the back. To his surprise, there was a light on in the garage. He hadn’t noticed any vehicles in front or parked around back, so he had no idea who might be inside. He crept up to the window and peeked inside.

  That was when all his questions found answers.

  Randy was inside the garage and he was stuffing something into the saddlebags of the motorcycles they’d been working on earlier that day. Quinn didn’t want to guess that he was the one moving the drugs through the garage, but it sure did seem that way. It also answered the question why he always wanted to work alone. The increased number of motorcycles coming through the shop for oil changes was also another piece to the puzzle. He couldn’t go to his director with just hunches, though. He needed proof. He also had to make sure that no one else was involved.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Brynn’s voice shocked him to a near heart attack. His gaze shot to her, pulling her down and out of view.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he barked.

  She scowled. “Why did you sneak out of bed an hour after I got in it? Are you seeing someone else?”

  What the—“God, woman, is that what you think?”

  “Well, I don’t know what to think. You sneak out and you’re hiding like a criminal.” Then she gasped, a horrified expression on her face. “Oh, God. You’re a criminal, aren’t you? Are you robbing this place?”

  “No, shit, no,” he whispered harshly. I work here.” He sucked in a quick breath. “Look, I’m just checking on a few things. Go back to my place and I’ll be there soon. I promise.”

  “No,” she argued, tugging her arm away from him. “Tell me what’s going on. What are you doing here?”

  He swallowed hard, unable to do more than avoid answering her question. This was not the time for her to follow him, not the time for him to come clean. “Brynn, please. Trust me. I’m checking on a few things. That’s all.”

  “If it’s nothing, tell me what it is.” Her eyes were wide and he saw them glisten with emotion.

  His chest squeezed tight as he saw her slipping away from him. She still didn’t know him well enough to trust him and whispering in the dark wasn’t the best way to prove he was trustworthy. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” she snapped.

  He glanced over his shoulder through the window. Randy still hadn’t heard them. “I just can’t,” he said coldly. “Please go back to my apartment and wait for me.”

  She pursed her lips together, her jaw quivering slightly. “This was a mistake. I never should’ve gotten involved with you. I knew you were too good to be true. I’m done,” she said, moving away from him and into the darkness. He listened as she hurdled the fence, amazed he hadn’t heard her come up on him. Then, calming himself, he waited for Randy to finish up loading the bikes. When Randy left, he went out the side door, locking it up so no one would know he was there.

  Quinn pulled the key Cappy had given him from his pocket and went inside. With a flashlight in hand, he moved over to the bikes and inspected the bags. They were filled with drugs. Randy was their guy. Now he needed to call his director with the news. He also needed to find out one more thing before he could finish the case. He needed to verify if the rest of the club knew anything about Randy’s drug operation.

  * * * *

  Brynn rushed back to Quinn’s apartment and collected her belongs and then hightailed it out of there. She didn’t want to see him again. He’d proved to be no different than she feared. Why hadn’t she listened to her gut instincts?

  “A pretty package doesn’t mean the present isn’t shit,” she mumbled, wiping away the tears that trailed down her cheeks.

  The last place she wanted to be was home and alone. She needed her friends. Sam had been distant lately. Why, she had no idea. Zerina had weird nights because of Jeremy’s fireman scheduled. So that left Layla.

  She sent her a text and to her surprise her phone rang within seconds. “Are you okay?” Layla asked, her tone soft and sweet.

  “No,” she muttered. “I’m not.”

  “Come over. I’m up.”

  Brynn fired up her motorcycle and headed straight over to her apartment. Parked out in front was a big black truck and she knew it belonged to Luke Mackenzie, Layla’s boyfriend. Suddenly, she felt like she was intruding.

  But before she could leave, Layla had her door open and was waving her inside. Brynn let out a heavy sigh and went in.

  Layla hugged her the second she closed the door. “What’s wrong? I’ve never seen you like this before.”

  Brynn sat down on the sofa and covered her face with her hands, unable to keep the disappointment from ravaging her. “I’m an idiot, that’s what’s wrong.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  She looked up. “Do y
ou remember that guy—”

  “The storeroom guy?”

  Brynn nodded. “Well, I really liked him and I’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  More tears welled in her eyes. “It is because I’ve stupidly fallen in love with him and he’s a criminal.”

  Layla held her and she couldn’t hold back the flood of tears and uncontrollable sobs. After several minutes, she finally spoke again. “I followed him tonight. I think he was going to rob a motorcycle shop.”

  “What?” Layla barked. “Are you sure?”

  “No. But I don’t know what else it could’ve been. I know he works there, but when I confronted him, he wouldn’t tell me what he was doing. I felt like he was hiding something. He kept trying to get me to go back to his place and wait for him.” She sniffled. “What the hell was I supposed to do, knit a fucking sweater while I waited for him to come home with the cops on his ass?”

  Luke stepped out from the bedroom, wearing pajama pants. “You guys okay?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  “No,” Layla said hurriedly. “Brynn thinks her boyfriend is robbing a motorcycle shop tonight.”

  “Wait. What?” It took him a moment to wake up fully and then his cop brain must’ve kicked in. “What are you talking about? Who’s robbing what motorcycle shop?”

  “Brynn’s been dating this biker guy—” She looked to her, and asked,” What’s his name?”

  She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she replied, “Quinn the Jerk.” She bit into her lower lip to keep it from quivering. How could she have been so blind?

  Luke’s brow furrowed. “You don’t mean Quinn Williams, do you?”

  Her chest exploded and the world crumbled at her feet. “Ah, shit, he is a criminal, isn’t he?” Why else would Luke know his name? He probably had a rap sheet a mile long. Those damn eyes and gleaming smile had done her in, made her stupid. “Motherfucker,” she grumbled. “That bastard.”

  “Brynn,” he started, moving to calm her. “Quinn’s … not a criminal.”

  That got her attention and she choked down her emotions, hope filling her chest. “Are you sure? What was he doing then?” she asked, standing with apprehension. Another question flared in her mind. “More importantly, how do you know him?”

  Luke looked like he swallowed a bug. “I … it’s not my place … ah,” he groaned. “Wait here a second. I need to make a phone call.”

  She stared after him, unable to do more than look at Layla. “What the hell just happened?” she snapped, digging her hands into her hips.

  Layla shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  * * * *

  A few days later, Quinn was waiting outside the garage. His director had decided to issue an arrest warrant for Randy. A few of Quinn’s partners had followed those motorcycles and discovered the next step in the drug operation. The drugs were on their way to Mexico. Never once had Cappy, Tank, or Dozer been present at any of the drops.

  Quinn had a hunch that none of them was involved. And if they were, his director had made sure to inform him that it would be his ass on the line.

  Great.

  A team of officers waited in unmarked cars and vans around the corner. For the first time ever, he was wearing a wire. That made him a bit antsy, but he had to admit, knowing backup was an earshot away was nice.

  Stepping inside the garage, he spotted Randy. “Hey,” he called out. “Got a second?” He approached him, the same way he’d done a number of times. But this time, Randy looked nervous. “Something wrong?”

  “Yes, something’s fucking wrong. Where’s the damn bike I left here last night?” He pointed a determined finger at the motorcycle lift that was void of any bike.

  He frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He scoffed. “Sure you don’t. I had an—”

  “Oil change,” he said, finishing the expected sentence.

  “Yeah, an oil change. The bike was here when I left and now it’s fucking gone. Did you do something with it?” Randy came at him, poking him in the chest. “Are you fucking with me, old man?”

  What’s with the old man shit?

  He honestly had no idea what he was talking about. He hadn’t worked yesterday. He’d spent the day getting everything in order to arrest the punk. It wasn’t uncommon for him to only work when he was needed. It had been an arrangement that Cappy had set up.

  He raised his hands in a nonthreatening manner, even though he wanted to grab his hand and break every damn one of his fingers. “Look, man, I don’t know where the bike is. I didn’t work yesterday.”

  That seemed to cool him down a little. Randy raked a stiff hand through his hair. His mouth foamed at the corners as he paced the room. If Quinn had to guess, he’d bet that bike had drugs in it and it wasn’t going to be a good thing when the product didn’t reach its destination.

  Then he started to think about all the players in the game and how if none of them had the bike, who did. His question got answered as Cappy entered the garage, his hand grasping a gun as he strolled right over to Randy. Quinn swallowed the bile the raced up his throat.

  Pointing the gun at the kid, Cappy said, “You think you can use my club and garage to move your fucking shit?”

  “Cappy, what are you doing?” Quinn asked calmly.

  “This piece of shit’s been stashing bikes with drugs,” he said with a sneer. “If the cops ever found out, they’d put me away for life. I didn’t clean up my act to let some jackass ruin everything.”

  Quinn swallowed. “And killing him won’t?”

  Cappy gritted his teeth, breathing through his nose like a bull preparing to charge. Quinn moved to stand beside him. “Give me the gun, Cappy. When the cops show up, you can’t be the one holding this.” He narrowed his eyes on him and Quinn nodded slowly. “They’re on their way.”

  Sirens exploded through the air, and like a dumbass, Randy made a run for it. Quinn was after him in a blink, pulling out his own gun from his back holster. He met him at the back fence just as several cruisers surrounded the front, their lights beaming through the gate.

  “Nowhere to run, Randy,” Quinn told him, keeping his gun trained on him.

  “Shit!” Randy shouted, kicking his feet and slamming his closed fists against the fence. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Special Agent Reid Wilson, asshole.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Quinn packed up all his belongs from the apartment, submitted his paperwork, and turned the keys in to his director. He was ready to move back into his house. Damn, he missed his place. But strangely, he’d also miss the apartment that had been his home for months. Not because he liked living in a shithole. No, he would miss it for the memories he’d made with Brynn.

  Luke had called him the night she’d followed him to the garage. Quinn told him to go ahead and tell her who he was, even though it broke every rule in the handbook. Lying to her was wrong and he couldn’t do it any longer. He hoped that hearing from Luke that Quinn wasn’t a criminal would ease the blow of knowing he’d lied to her, but she hadn’t returned a single one of his calls.

  The only thing he hadn’t done was bother her at work or her home. She’d never invited him over and he didn’t know where she lived, but that was an easy fix. He picked up his phone and called Luke.

  “Good job on closing your case,” Luke said.

  “Thanks,” he replied, wanting to avoid small talk and jump right into the reason he called.

  “You finally calling to get Brynn’s address?”

  “Is it a detective thing or—”

  “It’s a detective thing and exactly what I would be doing if our roles were reversed,” he said with a hint of laughter in his voice. “Trust me. I’ve been in your shoes.”

  “And which pair was that?”

  Luke’s tone grew serious as he said, “The one where you’ll do just about anything for the woman you love.”

  Quinn cle
nched his jaw tight. He did love Brynn. When that had officially happened he had no idea, but it had. “Is she pissed at me for keeping the truth from her?”

  “Yep,” Luke said.“I’d say you got yourself in quite the predicament.”

  It didn’t take a genius to figure that out, but he’d had to ask. He hadn’t been looking for a relationship with Brynn, but damn it if he wasn’t craving one with her now. When something was lost, that’s when it was most desired.

  “What the hell do I do?” he muttered, clear enough for Luke to hear.

  “What do you want to do?” he asked plainly.

  Stiffening his chin and filling his chest with air, he knew the answer to that in an instant. “I want Brynn.”

  “Then you need to tell her everything and pray she has it in her heart to forgive you. Otherwise, you can consider yourself kicked to the curb.”

  He rolled his eyes at Luke’s choice of words. “Thanks. You’re a big help.”

  Luke snickered. “That’s what I’m here for. Just make sure you give me a heads up when you do try to make things up to her. I want to make sure I’ve got a big bucket of popcorn for the show. It’s going to be explosive.”

  A wave of nerves rushed to Quinn’s stomach. Brynn wasn’t going to go easy on him, he knew that. But hearing Luke tease him about it was like forcing a man off the plank into shark-infested waters.

  “Remind me that next time you fuck up, okay?”

  Luke laughed. “Sure thing.”

  * * * *

  Brynn’s head whirled like a tornado and her stomach hurt. She’d felt sick over the last several days. Nothing would stay down, thanks to the ravaging emotions tormenting her body. Quinn or Fuckhead, whatever his name was, had lied to her. He was an agent, an undercover cop, and he was using her. Had used her. She was just a pawn in his undercover cops-and-bikers game.