Chapter 5 NOVA #2
I didn’t go anywhere without the emergency kit.
In a duffel bag, I had a first-aid kit and a butane lighter.
Hand-warmer packets, a coat and gloves. I even had an extra gallon of gas.
It was something I’d kept on hand for years, not for myself, but because TJ had been known to drive until the very last drop of fuel in his car or bike was burned.
As a teenager, he’d called me at least five times to ask if I could bring him some gas.
Then he’d died and I hadn’t been able to take out that plastic gas can.
The gas itself was probably too old to be usable, but every time I thought about clearing it out, I couldn’t bring myself to pull it from the trunk.
Maybe I would when this was over. Maybe then I could put TJ and his death behind me.
There was an empty backpack in the trunk, one I kept for my disguise.
I dropped my Nancy Lennox ID into the bag, then tugged the wig from my head and stowed it along with my glasses.
My fingers dove into my dark hair as I shook it out, a sigh of relief escaping my lips like it always did when the wig was gone.
I wouldn’t be needing Nancy for a while, so I zipped up the bag and put it into the hidden compartment in the trunk’s floor.
A special customization Dad had put in the Nova before he’d given me the car as a gift. That compartment also held my gun.
With my things stowed, I stripped off my blazer before climbing behind the wheel. It was always unnerving to lose the disguise and become me again this close to the prison. Even in my favorite sleeveless silk blouse, a gray pinstripe pencil skirt and patent heels, I was vulnerable.
There was no way anyone knew I was pretending to be one of Dad’s lawyers. No way. If Emmett suspected anything, he wouldn’t have had sex with me again, right?
“No one knows.” I spoke the words like a wish I desperately needed to come true.
I’d covered my tracks. I’d been careful, so careful.
No one knew.
Except Dad.
What would have happened if he had been more careful? The thought was one I’d had many, many times since his arrest. It was definitely not a question I’d be asking, but I wondered.
If Dad hadn’t kept video footage of the club, what would the FBI have had on him? I suspected there was more evidence, that even without the videos, they would have had a solid case. But the videos had been so damning.
I understood why he’d taken them. He’d been protecting himself from club traitors, using information to keep his members in line.
Dad trusted no one but those in his inner circle—a circle I’d just recently joined.
Still . . . the videos had been a mistake.
A mistake I wouldn’t be making. I’d been keeping secrets my entire life. Soon we’d see if the Tin Kings were good at protecting theirs.
Dad was one of the smartest, most cunning men I’d ever met. I had to assume that if he’d kept information on his club members, then the Tin Kings had as well. It was unlikely they’d destroyed it, hoarding their secrets for a rainy day.
These assumptions of mine were a gamble but one I was willing to chance.
Worst case scenario, I failed my father. I failed my brother. Then Dad would take it upon himself again until he had what he craved.
Blood.
My stomach twisted at the thought. The idea of Emmett’s death shouldn’t have bothered me so much, but death wasn’t what I wanted.
There’d been too much blood spilled, which meant I couldn’t fail. Yes, I wanted to balance the scales. But death was not the goal.
I shoved the car in drive and raced to Clifton Forge. An hour into my trip, my phone rang. I groaned at Ira’s name on the screen but answered with a flirty laugh. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, sugar pie.” Gag. I hated the nickname. But Ira was fifteen years my senior and thought I was some young, sweet thing. Poor, delusional Ira.
“How’s your day going?” I asked.
“It’s been a long one. I was just hoping to wrap up work early for the day. And wondering if I could take my girl out for dinner.”
“I wish I could.” Lie. “I had to head out of town for work. It was last minute, and I was going to call you tonight. I didn’t want to interrupt you at work. You’ve been so busy lately.”
“You can always call me. Unless I’m with a client or in trial, I’ll always answer for you.”
Ira Hug was Dad’s lawyer. Ira was Nancy Lennox’s boss. Ira was currently representing three senior members of the Arrowhead Warriors. Ira and I had been dating for two months. And Ira had no idea that I was Tucker Talbot’s daughter or that I was using him for information.
Dad didn’t need to know that either. These were my secrets, after all.
“How long will you be gone?” he asked.
“Hopefully not long. I’ll call you the second I get home and we’ll take a rain check on dinner.”
“Looking forward to it.” He blew a kiss into the phone.
My lip curled. “Bye, sweetie.”
I tossed the phone aside and hit the gas.
Ira had been the Warriors’ club lawyer for years. He was far from clean and he wasn’t the type to have moral dilemmas about his clients’ crimes. As long as the money came in, he’d fight tooth and nail to prove his criminals were innocent.
He was flashy and bold. He was a snake in an Armani suit. And I suspected Ira knew more than most about my father and his own secrets.
But that wasn’t why I’d lured Ira into this little tête-à-tête. I wasn’t using him to get information on Dad. No, I was using Ira to get information on the other Warriors.
It had been so easy to slip into Ira’s life. I was the younger, beautiful woman he could whisk away to expensive restaurants on the weekends. The woman he could show off to his friends around Missoula. Ira loved arm candy.
And he loved his gin and tonics.
During our dates, I’d let him parade me around the most popular restaurants.
He’d always pick a table in the center of the room where everyone could see us eat.
Then once the meal was over, we’d return to his place for a night cap.
I’d slip a sedative into his gin and tonic, let him kiss me for a while, and like clockwork, just before he could suggest we go to his bedroom, he’d pass out.
Leaving me free to explore his house.
Ira really should leave his clients’ files at the office.
I hadn’t found a file on Dad yet, not that I was surprised. His case was closed. And besides, I trusted Dad. If I needed a question answered, I’d ask him, not reference Ira’s notes.
Otherwise, Ira’s client files were quite handy. I knew the status of each arrest and each ongoing trial. I had a log of visitors who’d seen each of the Warriors in prison and a long list of family names.
It was all part of my arsenal. A way to protect myself from interference.
I had to ensure there were no ticking bombs that might explode in my face while I was in Clifton Forge.
Ira was just another piece of the game. The poor man didn’t even know just how much he was being played, not only by me, but also Dad.
Per Dad’s request and a hefty cash payment, Ira had arranged for a copy of Nancy’s ID to find its way into the mail. I hadn’t been a part of that discussion, but the ID had shown up at my doorstep with a note to use it to visit Tucker Talbot.
Ira would never know I possessed Nancy’s ID. Just like he’d never be invited to my home.
On one of my first trips to the prison, I’d asked Dad how. I’d asked if Ira knew about me. He’d promised our father-daughter status was safe and that Ira believed I was just another player for the club. It was the truth, after all.
And I was sure that the real Nancy Lennox was being compensated handsomely for the use of her identity. Not a single lawyer in Ira’s firm was what I’d consider ethical.
Least of all Ira himself.
It was nothing short of a miracle that he hadn’t pushed harder with our dating relationship. I refused to have sex with him.
Maybe I was crossing every moral line with Emmett Stone but at least there was a magnetic attraction there.
An attraction that was probably going to get me into trouble.
There’d only been the three times with Emmett, but I craved more.
My core pulsed at the thought of him on his deck this week.
The man had a way of turning me inside out with one thrust of his glorious cock.
A shiver rolled down my spine.
I shouldn’t want him this much. I shouldn’t let myself get caught up in the pleasure.
“It’s just sex.” I’d say that as many times as I needed until it sank in.
The miles flew by as I sped to Clifton Forge, ready to settle in for a while. After today, there’d be no more trips and I was looking forward to sinking into the small community, even if it was temporary.
A smile pulled at my lips as I passed the sign welcoming me to town.
On a Friday night, I suspected I’d find Emmett at The Betsy.
Later, I’d go in and make sure he hadn’t forgotten about me.
That he didn’t get ideas of replacing me with a skank from the bar.
But my first stop in town was the grocery store.
The rental’s fridge was nearly empty and though eating out was easy, most of the time I preferred simple food I cooked at home.
I’d just collected a cart and was walking toward the produce section when a gravelly voice caught my ear.
“Hey, baby.”
Gotta love small towns. I smiled and turned toward Emmett as he strode my way with a bottle of water in his hand. “Hey, Ace.”
The corner of his mouth turned up and the urge to kiss him came over me so strongly that I clutched the handles of the shopping cart, holding on so I wouldn’t go to him. So I wouldn’t appear as desperate as I really was for a touch.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Shopping. You?”
He held up his water. “Hitting the road for a ride.”
“Ah.” I nodded. So he wouldn’t be at The Betsy. That would save me a trip to the bar.
“What do you say?”
“To what?”
“To coming along.” There was a glint in his eyes, one that told me we wouldn’t just be riding his bike.
I answered by abandoning my cart and strutting toward the doors.
Emmett was right behind me, his gaze leaving a scorching trail down my neck, over my shoulders and settling on my ass. Motives aside, it was heady to be wanted by a man like Emmett. To be craved as much as I craved. To be desired by a man I lusted for with every fiber in my being.
Maybe I liked our nights together too much.
Some other night, I’d sort that out in my head. But tonight, I wanted to ride.
We hit the parking lot and I walked to my car, stowing my purse in the backseat and plucking my sunglasses out of the cup holder.
Emmett was waiting on his bike when I locked the car’s doors.
I went to him and hiked up my skirt.
He grinned as I put both hands on his shoulders and straddled the seat behind him. There wasn’t much space but I held on tight, smashing our bodies together. My skirt rode up so high my thighs beside his were bare.
“That’s hot, baby.” He trailed a hand up my skin.
I wound my arms around his waist and pressed my palms against the snug cotton of his T-shirt, feeling the washboard abs beneath. “Pretty hot yourself, Ace.”
“Hold on.”
I nodded, molding my chest to the roped muscles of his back.
Emmett’s masculine scent, spice and earth and leather, filled my nose and I rested my cheek against his shoulder, dragging it in.
I closed my eyes and for just a moment, I wasn’t June Johnson. I wasn’t Tucker Talbot’s daughter. Emmett wasn’t my enemy, and this wasn’t all part of some grand scheme to get my revenge.
For just a moment, I was a woman who shared a primal attraction with this sexy man. This man who pushed me to shed my inhibitions and be free.
The vibration and noise of the engine snapped my eyes open. I tightened my hold before Emmett shot out of the parking lot and aimed us out of town to the highway.
The air whipped through my hair and the smile on my face was impossible to hold back.
How many times had I seen Dad ride off, wishing I could be with him? Wishing he would let me sit on his motorcycle, just once? But it had been as forbidden as my real name.
Not today. Today I got to ride. As we settled into an easy cruise, the road as warm beneath us as the sun was above, I straightened. I gripped Emmett with my thighs and let my arms loose. The moment my arms unwrapped from around him, he dropped one hand to hold my knee and keep me steady.
He gave me the freedom to let go.
I opened, stretching my fingers to tickle the wind. And I flew.
Tonight, I’d fly.
Tomorrow, I’d get back to business.