“So, are you giving me relationship advice as a psychologist or as a lawyer?”
“As a friend.” Tony’s gaze remained fixed on Trixie’s curvy bounce as she walked a nervous young woman up to the bar.
Trixie glanced up and caught Tony and James watching her. Her cheeks flushed and she flashed them a warm smile. Generous, creamy breasts strained against the top of the tight, red corset dress encasing her voluptuous body. Her shiny red stilettos tapped in time to the bass pounding through the speakers. Although the multiple facial piercings and spiked platinum hair weren’t James’s taste, her warmth and bubbly personality had made her one of the most popular staff members in the club.
Tony turned away and Trixie’s smile faded. There was an obvious attraction between her and Tony, but as far as James knew, Tony had never acted on it. For all the relationship advice he gave to his clients and friends, he couldn’t see what was staring him in the face.
“Maybe you’re right.” Tony drummed his fingers on the table and sighed. “Women add unnecessary complications to life. Might be better not to reopen old wounds. Especially when you’re undercover.”
James nodded his agreement, pleased Tony had been on the list of people cleared to be informed of his undercover status. His request list had been small: His dad, Lana, Mark and Tony. He’d added Lana to the list on a whim despite thinking he would never see her again.
“I’m just waiting for this damn assignment to end, and I don’t want to do anything to mess it up. It’s been hard on my mind. I don’t like the man I’ve had to become or the things I’ve had to do in the name of justice.”
“What will you do when it’s over?” Tony spun his glass on the table.
“I need a break. Try something different. Maybe I’ll sail around the world.”
“Alone?” Tony raised an eyebrow.
James shrugged. “Yeah. Alone.”
Chapter Three
Lana huddled in the front seat of her rusty Jetta and trained her binoculars on the front entrance to Hades’s clubhouse. Even without Angel’s directions, the vacant airplane hangar just outside the King George Airpark would not have been difficult to find. She had spotted the huge painted Cerberus a mile away and if that wasn’t a dead giveaway, motorcycles of all shapes and sizes filled the paved parking lot.
Sweat trickled down her back and beaded on her brow. The thick plaid shirt, baggy jeans and rumpled blonde wig Jackie had assured her would enable her to blend in with the other airplane watchers were too hot for a summer day. But she trusted Jackie. Her best friend, business partner and fellow private investigator specialized in disguises, boasting a collection that would make even CSIS (Canadian Security Intelligence Service) jealous.
Lana slid a hand under her wig and flapped it up and down, trying to cool herself off with a pathetic waft of warm summer air. She suspected it was the same wig she’d accidentally grabbed off Jackie’s head in the self-defense course where they’d met.
The memory made her laugh. Acting on instinct, Jackie had punched her in the jaw and then, overcome with remorse, she’d collapsed on the floor, inconsolable. Her theatrics had made Lana smile for the first time since James had left. When she’d discovered Jackie was living on the streets she’d offered her a place to stay, as much for her spirited company as for helping out someone in need. With Lana’s help and encouragement, Jackie had turned her life around. And in return she’d pulled Lana out of her James-induced depression and introduced her to the world of disguises.
Unfortunately, Jackie hadn’t warned Lana that this particular disguise might lead to death by melting in the heat of the summer sun.
Sort of like last night at Carpe Noctem.
Memories stirred. For an instant, she was back in the club, her nose buried in James’s shirt, breathing in his clean, sharp scent, safe and warm in the circle of his arms. And then she was two years in the past, lying on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart in the darkness, wondering if the deep tug on her soul was love. And then she was alone in her bed on a cold, gray rainy morning, contemplating what she’d done wrong.
No. She wasn’t going back there. She was over him. Their meeting at Carpe Noctem had been a blip. It had to happen at least once. Vancouver was big, but not that big. With both of them in law enforcement, they were bound to end up following the same bad guy occasionally. She would move on, just like she had before.
A flash of movement in front of the clubhouse caught her attention. She focused her binoculars on the door. Damn. Ryder and Kickstand. No Rex. No James. Not that she wanted to see James. He would be a distraction in more ways than one.
Lana waggled the wig again to create a light breeze around her neck. A red curl escaped. She glanced up in the rearview mirror to tuck it back in and startled when a black leather jacket came into view. Seconds later, her door swung open, and a hand reached in and yanked her out of the car.
Surveillance Rule #37: When threatened, run.
Without even raising her head, Lana bolted. Heart pounding, lungs burning, she raced into the field. At least she thought she did. As fast as she moved, her assailant was faster. Before she could take a step his hand clamped down on her shoulder. He spun her around and pushed her against the car, trapping her with his body.
Her heart pounded against her ribs. She brought her hands up between them to push him away, and her fingers fanned out over a broad expanse of hard muscle.
Familiar.
“Stop, Lana. I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was a cool caress over her heated skin. She’d heard that voice in her dreams. She’d heard that voice last night.
“Good. Then let me go.” She lifted her head, only to meet James’s furious glare.
“What are you doing here?”
“Airplane watching.”
“Airplane watching? You?” The incredulous look on his face almost made her laugh. Almost. Self-preservation held her amusement at bay. She could sense anger simmering beneath his skin, barely contained. Although he had never hurt her before, he was different now. Rougher. Less controlled. More aggressive. Potty mouthed.
She still hadn’t figured out if he had officially joined the gang or if he was undercover. But she couldn’t take a chance that his anger might turn to violence. Her father was an angry man, but he had had nothing on Levi. And after a string of failed relationships she no longer trusted men. Hell, she didn’t even trust her own judgment.
Folding her arms with feigned nonchalance, she leaned against her faithful Jetta and gave him a weak smile. “Sure. It’s a…new hobby.”
James snorted a laugh. “You can’t sit still long enough to drink a coffee. Do you really think I would believe you’re into airplane watching? Dressed like that?”
She widened her eyes and shrugged. “I was worried I might bump into someone I know and they might laugh at my new hobby. The thrash crowd isn’t very forgiving of mundane pursuits.”
His lips curled into a devastating smile. “I can always tell when you’re lying. Your eyes widen and your lips twitch. Dead giveaway, at least to me.”
Lana narrowed her eyes at the insult. “And you’re in my way. The 4:53 p.m. Boeing 757 should be flying overhead any minute. It’s a breathtaking sight.”
Surveillance Rule #17: Always be prepared with a plausible cover story.
Eyebrows raised, grin splitting his face, James looked into the sky. “Maybe I’ll stay and watch. I didn’t think there were many 757s left in the air. They were discontinued in 2004.”
“Seriously?” She realized her mistake at once and dropped her voice. “I mean, seriously, it is a real 747. There are still a few that are operational.”
“I thought you said it was a 757.”
Lana swallowed hard and stared at her flip-flops. Damn. Usually she lied with aplomb while undercover, but he was unnerving her with his handsome face, kick-ass leathers and cocky attitude.
“Slip of the tongue. I get so excited when the planes fly overhead, sometimes I can�
�t think.”
“I remember other things that excited you,” he murmured.
Phwoar. Long-buried feelings stirred inside her. God, she’d missed their banter. And his sexy talk. And his body.
Bad ears. Don’t listen.
She tugged her wig over the betraying auditory appendages lest he continue to beguile her with his forked tongue and panty-dampening words. But, oh, the things his tongue could do…
He checked his watch and leaned in close. Lana swallowed hard and tried to arch away, but with the vehicle behind her, she had nowhere to go.
“It’s 4:58 p.m.,” he said. “Looks like you missed your 757. Sorry I distracted you. You should get along home.”
“There are other planes to see.”
He tugged the wig off her head and ran his fingers through the damp tendrils of her hair. Delicious cool air rushed over her scalp. Lana’s eyes slitted closed. She had always loved the feel of his hands in her hair.
“Not here,” he said softly. “No case is worth this risk, and I know you’re on a case. You are leaving. Now.”
Lana gritted her teeth against the onslaught of endorphins rushing through her veins. Of course he had seen through her ruse. Was he worried she would blow his cover—if he was undercover? As before, their sexual chemistry got in the way of everything else. Like communication. But right now she didn’t want communication. She wanted him gone so she could get on with her surveillance.
“Do you see my feet moving? No. That’s because I’m not leaving. Now skedaddle. Go back to your new biker life of drugs and murder and mayhem, and leave me in peace.”
He cupped her jaw with his warm, broad hand and tilted her head back. The look he gave her—sensual, carnal, predatory—curled her toes.
“Not going anywhere, babe.”
Heat flooded her veins and a strangled sound escaped her throat. She took a deep breath to regain her composure. “It’s easy. Just turn around and walk away. You did it before.”
James tightened his grip on her jaw and held her gaze. Strong emotions flickered through his eyes, deepening the steel blue almost to black. “I did it for you.”
Lana’s vision sheeted red. Heartless fucking bastard. She shoved against his chest as hard as she could, breaking his hold and forcing him back. “Oh. My. God. Could you be any more condescending? Are you seriously telling me you broke my heart for my own good?” Her voice rose, almost to a shriek. “Did it occur to you I might’ve had something to say about that?” She clenched her fists to keep from slapping him. Again.
He looked at her aghast. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I liked it better when I didn’t know,” she snapped. “I imagined all sorts of scenarios: a serious illness in the family, an abduction by aliens, a mysterious overseas assignment to rescue hostages, or maybe you were imprisonment by rebels in a war-torn country. Something that would make me think you weren’t the heartless bastard you really are.”
The loud rumble of a motorcycle startled them both. Her head jerked up and her eyes widened at the sight of the immense, chromed-up custom Harley chopper inching its way across the field toward them.
James followed her gaze and hissed in a breath. “Fuck. It’s Rex. He must have seen your vehicle on the surveillance camera. No one parks on Hades’s turf without getting checked out. You’re damned lucky I recognized your bucket of bolts and found you first. Strip off your clothes.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “What?”
“Strip them off. I can think of only one reason why we would be in the field outside the clubhouse at dusk, and you wouldn’t be dressed like that. Unless you can think of something else, you’d better strip.”
Lana’s pulse raced. “Maybe we were just talking. Or watching airplanes…and I was cold.”
His face tightened and she caught a hint of concern in his steady gaze. “He’s already suspicious because I never mentioned you before. We need to do something that will leave him in no doubt you’re mine.”
A thrill of fear shot through her veins and she slid along the car and away from him. “No. I am not getting naked and having sex in front of Rex. Especially not with you. Not even to save my life.”
The corners of James’s lips curled into a wry smile. “We don’t need to go that far. I might need to fight him. Can’t do that with my dick hanging out of my pants.”
“Nice language. Now you even talk like a biker.”
“I am a biker.”
Lana rolled her eyes. “You’re a cop, James. It’s written all over you. It’s who you are. It’s part of what I like…liked about you. At the club, I couldn’t decide if you were really a biker or undercover, but seeing you again now, you don’t have to tell me. I know. So don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you’ve had a personality transplant and become the very kind of criminal you’ve spent a lifetime trying to put away.”
James rubbed the back of his neck and then shifted his weight and sighed. “You’re right. I’m undercover. And you being around the motorcycle club is a significant risk for you, me and my assignment. Once we deal with Rex, you’ll have to drop your case.”
Before she could refuse, he touched her chin gently until she looked up and gazed into his eyes, softer now, but no less determined.
“Easier said than done, I know,” he murmured. “We’ll deal with that issue later. Right now, you need an excuse to be here and I’m giving you one. You’ll be safe if Rex understands he can’t touch you.”
Her heart squeezed. He knew her well, or at the very least he sensed there was something about this case that wouldn’t let her just walk away. Was he purposely making it difficult for her to hate him?
Eyes still focused on Lana, James jerked his head back toward Rex. “Where is he?”
“He just parked his motorcycle under the trees. He won’t have a clear view of us until he walks a semicircle.”
His eyes raked over her flannel- and baggy-jeans-clad body. “Are you wearing anything under your disguise?”
She gave him a half smile. “Maybe I like to dress this way.”
He chuckled. “You think I’m going to believe the woman who paraded into Carpe Noctem wearing two strips of barely there, electric-fucking-blue Lycra now dresses like a character from The Big Bang Theory?”
Butterflies fluttered in her belly. He remembered what she’d worn the night they met. Did he also remember how she’d offered to take the outfit off to distract him from searching for her hidden camera? Or how he’d made her wear it one night after they’d started dating so he could take her on the kitchen table the way he’d wanted to take her in his office during her interrogation?
“I’ve got a sports bra and spandex shorts underneath,” she rasped. “Thought I might hit the gym after plane watching, burn off the adrenaline.” Anticipation and dread ratcheted through her and she trembled, knowing what would come next.
Without hesitation, James unbuttoned her plaid shirt. His warm hands caressed her skin as he slid the warm flannel over her shoulders and down her bare arms. He had always enjoyed undressing her, turning a mundane act into a sensual feast, and it seemed, from the hitch in his breath as his hands glided over her skin, that hadn’t changed.
Her body flamed at his touch, responding as if the two-year break had never happened. “I…ah…can…better do that.” Her words came out no louder than a whisper.
James paused, his fingers on the waistband of her jeans. “I’m faster.”
His hand dipped inside her jeans and pressed gently against her now-almost-flat tummy to undo the button. Lana’s breath caught in her throat and her senses shot to high alert as he tugged down her zipper, his fingers grazing lightly over her mound. His gentle caress was more arousing than if he had stripped off her clothes and touched her bare skin. She bit into her lip and tasted the sharp tang of blood. She should never have let him undress her.
He crouched in front of her and slid her jeans over her hips. An image flashed in her mind of James on his knees in her b
edroom as she stood naked before him. She had thought for once she was in charge, but when he grasped her thighs and brushed his lips over her clit, she had known her control of the situation was only illusory.
He looked up and caught her gaze. His eyes deepened to an azure blue and his lips parted. Swallowing hard, he dug his fingers into her thighs, as if to steady himself, and slid her jeans over her feet.
Lana braced herself against the cool metal of her trusty Jetta and fisted her hands against the urge to thread them through his now deliciously long hair. The softest moan escaped her lips.
James froze. “Lana…” He choked back his words and managed only one more, “Rex.”
Need, raw and ragged, turned her insides liquid. Swept up in a maelstrom of emotion and desire, she uttered the three words she had wanted so desperately to say over the last two years, needing to reassure herself nothing had changed. “I hate you,” she whispered.
“I know.” His eyes glittered and the look he settled on her—hot and hungry—seared her to the core. He knew her words for the lie they were and she sensed he understood her need to say them.
Lana closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ground herself in the moment—a deliciously dangerous moment. “Let’s just get this over with,” she blurted out. “And then we can move on with our lives…our cases.”
James rose to his feet and lifted her, settling her bottom on the hood of her car. “Open for me.”
Her cheeks flamed and she froze. When they had been together, he had been able to bring her close to the edge with his erotic commands. But now, although her body was on board, her heart was running scared.
When she didn’t move, he slid his hands up her thighs and eased her legs apart. Her breathing increased and her pulse sped up. Did he know the effect his touch still had on her?
Of course he knew. Better than she knew herself.
James eased himself between her legs and pulled her tight against him, locking their hips together. Awareness flared through her. The press of his hands on her thighs. The heat of his body. The raw scent of leather and the clean, fresh aroma of his cologne. His presence swallowed up everything—Rex, the field, even her anxiety. Everything but him.
Barely Undercover: Legal Heat, Book 2 Page 3
