Chapter 2
Chapter Two
B rynn rushed around her apartment. She’d gotten in late from work, and was now late to meet Norcross.
Luckily, she lived on the border between South Beach and Mission Bay. Her place wasn’t fancy, but it did the job. She shared it with Bard. It was in a good building with amenities, and close to the Public Safety Building, and that worked well for both of them.
They hardly ever saw each other since they both worked lots of hours.
Brynn changed out of her pantsuit. If anyone saw her near the Norcross office, she didn’t want to look like a cop.
She pulled on dark jeans and her favorite drab-olive T-shirt.
Next, she pulled on her cap for her favorite hockey team—the San Jose Sharks.
Whenever she could, she caught some of their home games.
She headed out the door and hustled toward the Norcross office. It would be easier to walk than drive.
If Norcross could make the introduction to the Iron Wanderers tomorrow, she could finally make some headway on this case.
She’d been late because not only had she arrested a guy on another case, she’d been at the autopsy of a teen who’d ODed on Stardust a few days ago.
The parents were distraught. The girl had been a top student, never done any drugs before, and went to a party… Now her life was over.
These drugs were stronger, and laced with crap like cleaning fluids. Brynn let out a breath. Her father had been a good cop. All her life, all she’d ever wanted was to be a cop like him, and help people.
She turned onto the street where the Norcross Security office was located and saw it ahead.
Nice . Clearly, private security and investigations paid well. She’d heard rumors that Norcross and his men cost a pretty penny.
The brick of the warehouse was complemented with lots of glass and black metal. Whoever had done the conversion had done good work. She discreetly scanned her surroundings. No one on the street was paying her any special attention. She pressed the intercom button by the front door.
A second later, the door beeped and unlocked.
She strode inside, tugging her cap off. The industrial, modern vibe continued. It was an open plan in the center, with wooden beams and metal ductwork overhead. Glass-walled offices lined each side of the space. The place was empty this late at night.
“Good evening.”
That wasn’t Norcross’ voice. She spun.
She discovered a golden god in a tuxedo. She knew who he was instantly. She’d read up on all of them. Saxon Buchanan was Vander’s best friend and right-hand man. He was also engaged to Vander’s sister, Gia.
“Hey,” Brynn said.
Green eyes took her in. It would be easy to dismiss him as a handsome man with money, but she knew he was former Ghost Ops as well, and she saw the alert way he watched her.
“I was just heading out. He’s waiting for you.” Saxon cocked his head. “You don’t look like a cop.”
Brynn lifted a brow. “And you don’t look like a badass. Looks can be deceiving.”
His lips quirked. “Touché.”
“So, you think I don’t look like a cop because I’m a woman?”
Buchanan shook his head. “Because you don’t have that jaded, resigned look in your eye.”
“I know better than to try and save everyone.” Her dad had taught her that. “But I can save a few.”
Saxon Buchanan’s lips twitched. “Good motto. That said, Trucker and the Wanderers will chew you up and spit you out.”
“You don’t know anything about me, Buchanan.” She strolled closer and winked. “One thing is that I’m tough. They try to chew on me, they’ll choke.”
Now, his lips moved into a full smile. “I hope you’re right.” With a nod, he headed for the stairs to the lower level.
Brynn wandered deeper into the office, following the light on at the end of the row of offices. She moved to a doorway. This office didn’t have glass walls like the others.
The domain of the boss.
A modern, metal lamp was on by the desk, but the rest of the room was shadowed. Vander wasn’t sitting at the desk.
“Detective.”
The deep voice from the shadows to the right made her spin. He was cloaked in darkness, but she knew instantly that it was him. Damn, she hadn’t even been able to tell he was there.
“Evening, Norcross.”
“I expected you earlier.”
She shrugged. “I had another case run late.”
Vander stepped forward and her heart did a little pitty-pat. Dammit . The man was way too much for any woman’s system.
“Did you get your guy?” he asked.
She smiled. “Yep. He’s sitting in a comfy cell waiting for arraignment.” She scanned around. “I like your place.”
“Thanks.” He waved toward the chairs in front of his glossy desk. It was all very slick. He probably thought the sleek lines and lack of personal touches didn’t say anything about him.
But she was good at reading between the lines, and she thought it said a lot. She sat.
“I traded calls with Trucker,” Norcross said. “We’ve set up a meeting for tomorrow.”
Brynn straightened, her pulse spiking. “That’s great.”
Norcross leaned against his desk. “You haven’t changed your mind about this?”
Her gaze narrowed. “No.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, and his sleeves were rolled up. Her belly coiled. What was it about a man’s forearms that were so damn sexy when his sleeves were rolled up?
“Fine. I told Hunt I owed him, so I’ll follow through. You get yourself killed, it’s not my problem.”
She smiled sweetly. “No, it isn’t.”
“Any idea who this out-of-towner is?”
She shook her head. “No. They’re laying low. My contact in the club doesn’t know who they are. They’ve had a few new members join recently.”
“I highly doubt your informant is a club member, so I’m guessing it’s one of the women.”
“I don’t give up my informants, Norcross.”
“You might need backup in there.”
“Like I said, I can take care of myself.”
His mouth flattened. “These guys aren’t nice. They don’t respect women. They won’t treat you like a lady.”
Brynn rose and moved toward him. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I know exactly what to expect.”
He pushed off the desk and rose to meet her. The toes of his shoes bumped hers.
“Have you got a problem with women being cops?” Was he just another chauvinist?
“No, I just don’t like seeing women hurt.”
His tone made her want to shiver. The darkness in his eyes made her belly tie up in knots. What horrors had he seen?
And why did she feel the crazy urge to try and comfort him?
She stepped back. “I appreciate your concern. Now, the meet?”
He stared at her for a beat, then circled his desk and sat in his chair. “I’m meeting with Trucker at the clubhouse tomorrow at two PM. It’s in Oakland—”
“I know where it is.”
“Good. Arrive at 2:10 and I’ll make the introduction.” His gaze drifted down her clothes. “Sure you can pull off biker?”
“Yes. Don’t worry.”
“Oh, I’ll worry.”
Brynn’s gaze drifted over his desk, and she noticed his computer monitor was on. A hockey game was playing in the lower corner.
“Hey, the Sharks game.” She leaned closer. “I think they could go all the way this season.”
He shifted closer and she got another hit of his cologne. Ugh, she wished he didn’t have to smell so good. She was a sucker for a sexy cologne.
“Yeah,” he said. “With Jackson as wing, they’re looking good, but they’re behind.”
“Ross is excellent in defense. They’ll claw back.”
He cocked his head. “You’re a hockey fan?”
She tilted her cap so he could see the logo on it. “Hockey makes life worth living, Norcross. But baseball and football aren’t bad either.”
The corner of his lips curled. Not quite a smile, but still devastating. What would it feel like to have Vander Norcross really smile at you?
Her chest tightened. No . He was a means to an end. A dangerous one she couldn’t afford to tangle with.
“Looks like you have a redeeming feature after all, Detective Sullivan.”
She straightened and pulled her cap on. “Don’t worry, Norcross. I’m sure my other annoying traits will remind you that you don’t like me.”
He turned to face her. “I never said I didn’t like you.”
Her gaze met his. It was dark, cool, and made her think of glass. Yes, Norcross wore that cool, aloof facade well, but the detective in her sensed the contained violence underneath. Shit . She’d never been attracted to dangerous men before. She wasn’t starting now.
“I’m a cop. I like rules, law, and order. I’m not sure you do.”
“We need rules, Detective, but sometimes those rules get so tight, that the bad guys get away with bad things. That, I can’t live with.”
She cocked her head. “I’m the one to uphold the law, not you.”
“We each have our role to play.”
Grr . She wanted to argue with him. Anyone who thought they could take the law into their own hands would eventually make a bad choice. Like her father’s partner had.
She reined in her temper. She needed Norcross for now.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her tone was admirably even.
Vander inclined his head. “Tomorrow.”
Brynn strode out and forced herself not to look back. Focus on the job, Sullivan.
She had to pull off this cover perfectly. She had a lot riding on this.
* * *
This was a fucking bad idea.
It went against every instinct he had. Vander rode his BMW S1000RR motorcycle across the Bay Bridge toward Oakland. The Iron Wanderers had set up the clubhouse in the Hoover-Foster neighborhood.
They had a garage for bike storage and restoration, and customizations, and a gated clubhouse next door in an old, ugly, concrete building with few windows. Inside, they had a bar, darts, pool tables, and out back, a fight ring.
It got loud and messy when they partied.
He pulled up out front. The garage had three bays, and two of the large doors were open. He swung off his bike and Trucker wandered out, wiping his hands on a rag.
Trucker was a big guy with a head of thick, salt-and-pepper hair, a trim beard, and a gut that was going a little soft.
He eyed Vander’s bike. “We need to get you on a Harley, Norcross.”
“My ride’s just fine.”
Trucker grunted and shoved his hands in the pockets of his dirty jeans.