11. Chapter 11
Raz slammed his fist against his squad car’s steering wheel for the third time. I fucked that up so badly. He’d lost Kate, so he was heading to the house where he’d found her to explain himself, making multiple phone calls along the way.
The sex had been astounding. Monumental.
But his powerful orgasm hadn’t blocked out the sensation of his spirit energy trying to reach out and grab Kate’s.
He’d been so far in denial that he hadn’t realized his dragon had wanted to Mark her with his spirit energy so that other dragons would know she was dragon-trusted and, most importantly, his.
When Daxton had explained the link between him and his soulmate, he’d left out how devastatingly demanding the need to link was.
When his dragon side had ripped through him when he came, sheer panic had been the only thing that had kept him from Marking her, creating an ache in his head and a raw throat. Because she’s…
She’s my soulmate.
Fuck. How did this happen? The Bubblegum Bandit, of all people.
A beacon of excitement and drama to some people, but hope and life to him.
He didn’t know what to think when Daxton had described his soul reaching for Izzy to connect them, but that’s exactly how it had felt.
As much as Raz was more than willing to give her his body at that moment, he’d panicked at the idea of giving her a piece of his soul.
He didn’t really know who she was. She didn’t know who he was either.
And what if she was Midnight? What if she were a danger to his team?
Marking her had felt like a giant leap into an abyss he wasn’t prepared for.
Putting distance between them was the only way he could attempt to rein in his dragon, raging to Mark her.
A huge part of him was throwing up caution signs, but instinctively he knew Marking her…
being with her was inevitable. Daxton and Izzy didn’t have it easy when they first got together either.
And just like Daxton warned him, he didn’t want to fight his instincts.
He wanted to believe that in some way he was meant to be with Kate.
Because his life as a Rogue had been a string of loneliness and one-night stands.
Raz could finally be with someone. He just needed to talk to her about what that meant first and figure out how to proceed.
He’d still been battling for control when he’d heard the car start.
If someone had left him as swiftly as he had left her after sex like that…
He slammed his hand against the wheel again, stomach dropping.
A chiming sound rang in his car, Regan calling him back. He ran his fingers through his still wet hair, attempting to tame himself.
“Detective Raz Malone,” he answered habitually.
“We got the warrant for the Smithsonian’s director. We’re heading to her residence later this afternoon. You sure you didn’t want to come?”
That was quick. He’d called her only an hour earlier to explain what Kate had shared with him about the trackers. “I’ve got too much on my plate right now. Let me know if you find the Hope Diamond necklace.”
“Will do.” Shuffling crossed the line, and she spoke to someone else about their timing before returning to the phone. “Who’s this lead you ran across?”
“I can’t tell you yet. I’m trying to track them down now. I’ll call you with any updates.”
“If this is insurance fraud and we make the arrest, it’ll alert the others,” she said.
“I know. But if there are trackers on the other items as well—“
“It won’t matter where the clients hide their stolen property; we’ll find them.” She sighed. “Okay. Bring this person in.”
“Let me off the phone, and I’ll work faster.”
She huffed. “Don’t be an ass.”
He chuckled. “Good luck.”
“You too.”
He ended the call.
Raz hated to take matters into his own hands concerning Kate going to the feds, but he had a duty to withhold and wanted to help Kate out.
The next step in his plan was to obtain a lawyer for the Bubblegum Bandit before she came to the police with the other trackers.
He just had to convince her it was the best plan for her to prove her innocence, at least for those crimes.
A short chime had him looking toward the dash. Lewis texted him.
Emergency meeting in a couple of hours to discuss helping the Bubblegum Bandit. You better bring her or you’re dead meat.
He already felt like roadkill. He wasn’t sure he could find Kate, nor that she’d come with him. She had needed his help to steal something back from Matsuda, but he’d muddled that up. His biggest regret, though, was making her believe he didn’t want her.
When he turned the corner and the familiar cul-de-sac came into view, his heart sank to his feet. His dragon gave an abrasive rub against his skull, splintering another headache between his eyes. He rubbed his aching head.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
His black Charger was there. Mud decorated the front end with an angry fling. She’d parked it up on the curb in a confident display, mocking him, as if she knew he wouldn’t fill out a police report for his missing vehicle. And he hadn’t. At least, not yet.
Pulling into the drive, he saw that the bright morning sunshine showed she had braked just in time to miss the mailbox by a mere inch. Dread sank into his chest. He had a feeling Kate wanted nothing to do with him, which stung.
Exiting his car, he inhaled. Kate’s faint scent led him to the front door, where a pile of black duffel bags sat on the porch. As he was about to knock, the door swung open.
Kate’s eyes were hard spheres of reproach, the dark smudges around them deep.
She greeted him with a scowl in her full black bodysuit.
Black jeans bled into long leather boots, and a biker’s jacket covered her entire top with skintight gloves.
He’d seen her amazing body naked, but seeing her in this power outfit warmed his blood.
Her presence knocked the wind out of him. His dragon side stood at attention.
“Can I help you?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
The flirtatious, bubbly woman was gone. She had iced over. Memories of Midnight’s kills flashed through his mind. Lukas. The way she effectively took out guards—killed—to take what she wanted. But that isn’t Kate.
“I—uh…” He swallowed his nerves. “I think we can help each other.”
“In what regard?”
“Matsuda.”
Her flinch, as if she’d expected him to say something different, sent shards through him.
“Okay,” she said. “What do you have in mind?”
Tying you up to explain myself. But she was too closed off for that conversation. Or that was a petty excuse. “The rest of my team has agreed to meet with you and hear you out.”
“Fantastic. I’m assuming this meeting will happen soon? We don’t have much time.”
He nodded, feelings of dismay sinking deeper. She was in a rush for some reason.
“You want to load my stuff into your car?” She nudged the duffel bags next to his feet. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
She entered the house and closed the door.
He had the urge to chase after her but sighed.
She was coming with him. He had time to explain himself.
Grabbing the one light bag and the other heavy one, he took them to the trunk.
As he returned, the garage door hummed open.
Three motorcycles glistened in the bare space.
Kate perched on a red Ducati with black trim.
Well, shit, there went his discussion plan. I have to make this right. He strode to the garage and stopped in front of her, arms crossed.
“Yes?” she asked, holding a bright pink helmet with plastic ears pointed back like an angry cat. “I’m going to follow you.”
“Listen, what happened earlier…” How could he explain that he wanted to claim her? That it was the best sex he’d ever had. That he wanted to tussle her now until he heard those sexy giggles.
“It was just sex,” she said. “I get it.”
“It wasn’t—“
The motorcycle roared to life, echoing in the two-car garage.
“There’s no need to talk about it. By the way”—she tossed something at him, and he caught his Charger keys—“you’re out of gas.”
She slid the helmet over her head, shutting him out. His frustration couldn’t compete with the hole he had dug himself into. When she leaned forward to drive, he gritted his teeth but shifted to let her pass. She zoomed past him.
He’d fucked up. Royally. Pocketing the discussion, he strode to his patrol car.
The drive to Chicago was boring except for the angry cat on his tail. He swerved into his lane again. Come on, Raz, concentrate. Though she rode behind him, her sexy appearance on that motorcycle made it hard for him to focus.
Vehicles clustered downtown Chicago, but he navigated his way around with Kate following.
Their destination to meet with his team was a classy bar along Clark Street named the Dusted Tuck.
Parking was a nightmare; too many vehicles on the shoulders, with their flashing hazards showing cops they wouldn’t be there long.
He drove straight to the parking garage and found a couple of vacant spots.
Kate slipped in next to him and took her helmet off, her black bob bouncing as she shook her hair free.
He stared. She was so beautiful, but man, he hated that frown on her face.
He came around the car as she slid off her bike, helmet resting on the handlebars.
She fiddled with his backseat handle. “Can you unlock it?”
He pressed the fob and tried not to gawk at her presented backside as she leaned into the seat. A bag unzipped before it zipped again. She rose with a laptop bag in her grasp.
“All set,” she said.
He paused, ready to say something. Anything he had been thinking of on the drive. But ice laced her tone. Sighing, he headed for the stairs to take them to the streets.
“So, where are we going?” she asked as they walked down the sidewalk bustling with people.
“The Dusted Tuck.”
“What’s that?”
“A drag bar.”
“Wait,” Kate said. “Why?”
They approached the metal fence outlining the building’s front to rope in the bar’s outdoor tables. The wrought-iron-style garage doors that Lewis kept open at night remained closed for the evening.
“You didn’t do any research on the other Dragon SEALs?” he asked, stopping them before the door with elaborate gold-painted metal trimming.
“You were the easiest to track down and scheme,” she murmured.
Fire erupted up his throat, and he coughed. You sure know how to make a guy feel special. “Lewis, one of us, owns this bar.”
He opened the door and cocked his head for her to walk forward.
She eyed him as she walked inside. The interior had a vintage style but with modern lighting and decorations.
Mahogany scents flooded his sinuses, and the stench of spilled alcohol lingered.
The four-story building had changed little since Lewis opened it in the 1920s.
Empty tables and booths scattered the floor in front of a large stage.
The tall ceilings created great acoustics for the drag shows, and the second-story surrounding balcony offered more seating.
Abstract art of varying colors draped the walls.
No one currently sat at the long mahogany bar with leather stools lining the right wall, but Lewis stood there, wiping the top down.
“I thought you were pulling my leg.” Lewis beamed, walking out from behind the bar, his long jean-clad legs swallowing the distance in no time. “But here she is…” He stretched his arms out wide and headed toward Kate, who remained frozen beside Raz. “The one and only Bubblegum Bandit.”
Fire lanced up Raz’s spine, and he stepped in front of the larger male dragon, blocking him from reaching Kate. Intense dominance vibes packed into the space between them, putting pressure against Raz’s skull. He raised his chin to meet his friend’s concerned brown stare.
“You all right?” Lewis said, dark bald head cocked in question.
Raz tried to rein in his dominance. And failed. His dragon was seeded too close to his consciousness, needing the other male to back the hell away from what was his. His vision turned red.
“Raz?” Kate’s voice whispered, bringing his humanity to the forefront.
He closed his eyes, feeling a dominance feud burn against his neck.
“Oh, no…” Lewis said, gaze swiveling between Raz and Kate. “Oh, yes.” He clapped his hands before his cheeky grin, reading Raz’s territorial situation clearly. “You’re…and with—“
“Shut it,” Raz snapped, not wanting the reality blown in his face before he had the chance to explain it to her. “Kate, please stay with Lewis.” He turned to Lewis. “I’m…I’ll be in your office. Just take care of her.”
Raz had to peel his feet from the floor, internal dragon claws dragging along his shins in a maddening ache.
“Oh, you bet I will,” Lewis teased.
Pain lancing across his forehead, he walked away from them, hoping to calm his dragon before it burned a hole through him.
Behind the stage, he navigated through the makeup stations until he reached Lewis’s office.
It was more like a conference room with a minibar, a table for eight, and a desk in the back.
He cursed when he spotted the gray streaks in Sid’s black, wavy hair.
Sid sat at the table, a large laptop open before him.
“I’m glad to see you, Raz, but you know better than to come around us cocking that attitude,” Sid cautioned, referring to the dominance stretching across Raz’s skin, squeezing every part of his body—the curse of a Rogue.
Without the ability to release their dragons since they didn’t have a hidden territory secreted from human eyes, their beasts were more temperamental, harder to subdue.
It had been nearly a year since they took their trip into the middle of nowhere to let loose.
“Sorry. Didn’t know you were in here.” He moved to the cabinet next to Lewis’s desk and searched through the drawers.
“What are you looking for?” Sid asked.
“Pain killers. Anything to stop this fucking headache.” He straightened from his search, fingers shaking. There is another option to rid this energy. He twisted to Sid.
The other male met his gaze. “Don’t you dare give me that damn look. We rip into each other here, and Lewis will kick our asses.”
“Let’s go upstairs then. I need to hit something.” Thank goodness Lewis lived on the bar’s upper stories and had a gym.
Sid sighed and pushed his chair back. “Best two out of three, then?”