Chapter 3
Chapter Three
N orcross kept a tight hold on her elbow as he marched her out to her bike.
When they got close, Brynn finally pulled her arm free, only for Norcross to pin her against her Triumph.
“Norcross—” He was so damn big, radiating strength.
“You think it’s a good idea to flirt with Trucker, and parade around in those clothes?”
She narrowed her gaze. His face was blank, cool, and some crazy part of her wanted to see that ice shatter.
Crap, head in the game, Brynn . “I’m playing my part,” she whisper-yelled. “He’ll see what I need him to see. It’s my job.”
She saw a muscle tick in Vander’s jaw. It was such a small tell that she almost missed it.
Hmm, not quite so cool after all. And of course, he smelled good. The ones you couldn’t have always did.
“Back up, Norcross.” She pressed her hands to his chest, covered in his white shirt. Then she was totally distracted by the firm muscles under the cotton. She wondered if that sexy bronze skin covered all of him.
Shit . She forced herself to look up. She was not imagining Vander Norcross naked.
Okay, now she was totally picturing him naked.
“Are you listening to me?” he growled.
“No. I figured you were lecturing me, so I could just skip it.”
He sucked in a breath, but that face that was a little too tough to be truly handsome—which unfortunately made him more attractive—stayed impassive.
“Not used to people who don’t hop to obey your orders?” she asked.
“Not used to people who don’t listen to good advice.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“The Wanderers’ party nights get rough and wild. Their fights, they’re bareknuckle.”
She leaned in. Anyone watching would see two people having an intense discussion. “I’m a cop, Norcross. Believe me, I know better than most that the world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows.”
“You have no fucking clue.”
She saw the quick flash of shadows in his eyes, and had the insane urge to cup his cheek.
Jeez . She needed to get her head examined. “I do have a clue, here on my streets.”
His eyebrows went up. “Your streets?”
She lifted her chin. “Yes.”
“My streets. My city.”
“Yes, you know everybody, don’t you? Vander Norcross, the powerbroker with contacts everywhere.
Both good, bad, and very ugly. You’re friends with cops and business leaders, friends with gang leaders, mafia, bikers.
You know, if you play in the muck with the bad guys long enough, you’ll be tempted to take a little for yourself. ”
“You don’t know me.” He leaned even closer. “I’ve spent my life fighting for this country and keeping my people safe. What I want is to keep on ensuring their safety so they never have to deal with the bad guys.”
“Like I’ve said before, that’s my job.”
He shook his head and gripped her hips. “You’ll just have to share.”
Her damn pulse went haywire. “Back up, Norcross.”
“You’re not going to that party.”
“Sorry, Dad, you can’t ground me. The party gives me a chance to get the lay of the land and meet all the players. I might even be able to identify the new guy.”
She saw a vein pulsing in his temple. Wow, he was really ticked. “Does everyone do what you say?”
“Pretty much. Except my mom.”
Oh, God . There was nothing sexier than a badass who loved his mom.
“Well, this will be character building for you, since I won’t follow your orders, either.”
He cocked his head, his intense gaze running over her face. She felt his fingers dig into her hips.
For a strange moment, everything seemed magnified—the hard feel of his body, the masculine, ocean scent of him, the warmth of the sun on her skin, the pounding of her heart.
“Back up now,” she whispered.
Instead, he stepped closer, and their bodies pressed together. “I’m not sure I want to. I find you intriguing, Detective, when you aren’t annoying the hell out of me.”
She tilted her head. “You’ll find it very intriguing when I plant my fist in your gut.”
He smiled. A real, full-on smile.
Holy cow. It should be labeled a deadly weapon. It made that dark, dangerous face outright handsome. Embarrassingly, her panties went damp.
“You could try,” he murmured.
She narrowed her gaze. “I could take you, Norcross.”
“No, you couldn’t.” His fingers squeezed her hips, then he stepped back. “Luckily for you, I don’t socialize with cops. Your cousin is the exception.”
“Worried about what we might dig up?”
Now that he’d stepped away, she almost swayed, missing the feel of him.
God, Brynn.
“No, I just can do without the self-righteous nagging,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “You mean, someone holding you to account.”
He looked up. “Are you going to the party?”
She nodded. “I’ll do my job.”
He stared at her for a beat, then nodded. He walked over to his very sleek, very hot motorcycle. That was it? No more demands? No fight?
Brynn felt vaguely disappointed.
He straddled the bike and her mind headed for the gutter. He grabbed his helmet and glanced her way. “Be careful.”
She straddled her own bike. “I always am, Norcross. Some of us follow the rules, and weigh the odds.”
He sat there, waiting and watching. She realized he was waiting for her to leave first. Gentleman or control freak?
Possibly a bit of both.
Vander Norcross struck her as the kind of man who needed to control everything.
She shot him a look, then traded her cap for her helmet. She started her engine, gunned it, and pulled away.
At the end of the street, she glanced back and saw him riding behind her. He rode his powerful bike with an ease that made her breath catch.
Keep your head on your investigation, Brynn.
Her pulse wasn’t as level as she liked.
He rolled up and stopped beside her. She could almost feel the weight of his gaze through the dark visor of his helmet.
The powerful throb of the engine beneath her vibrated through her body. She couldn’t see through the dark visor, but she knew he was looking at her.
She leaned forward and took off.
He kept pace right behind her as they rode through traffic and onto the Bay Bridge.
Brynn didn’t get to take her bike out as often as she liked. She loved the sense of speed and freedom. She grinned. Damn, it felt good.
And the hot guy on the bike beside her was exhilarating as well.
They zipped across the bridge and as she turned, Vander sent her a salute, then sped away.
Oh, boy. It was going to be extremely challenging to keep her eyes on her case and not on Vander Norcross’ mighty fine body. He should be listed as a lethal weapon.
Right, she needed to get her head in the game. She had a biker party to prep for.
* * *
Vander pulled the X6 to a stop on the crowded street outside the Wanderers clubhouse. There were cars everywhere, and a line of bikes in front of the garage. He climbed out of the SUV. The beat of the music vibrated through the air.
As he approached the open iron gates, he heard the rumble of conversation, punctuated by bouts of raucous laughter.
He wondered if Brynn was there, yet.
Two biker enforcers stood at the gate and watched him coming. They both stiffened and jerked their chins up.
“Norcross,” one rumbled.
Vander strode past them. The place was packed with bikers in denim and leather, and women wearing a lot less—short and tight seemed to be the theme.
He watched a biker lift a laughing woman with big hair off her feet. Her beer spilled everywhere.
It was still early, but the night would get a lot rowdier and wilder in the clubhouse. He walked inside and scanned the long bar with flags decorating the wall behind it. They were doing a brisk business.
There was also a sprinkle of the general public here. They enjoyed the party atmosphere.
Large, sliding doors were pushed open to a crowded outdoor area. A grill was being manned, and the smell of roasting meat filled the air.
The fight ring sat front and center in the outside area. Rectangular, surrounded by ropes, it looked like a small boxing ring.
Vander scanned around. He couldn’t see a certain annoying brunette.
“Beer?” A stacked woman in a strapless, red dress and a mass of black curls stopped in front of him. Her lips were painted the same color as her dress. She held up two bottles of Bud and licked her lips.
“No, thanks,” he said.
She cocked her head. “Anything else I can tempt you with?”
“Not right now.”
“Go, Charlene.” Trucker appeared.
The woman pouted and sidled away.
“Figured you’d turn up for a change.” Trucker sipped his beer. “Your hot little mechanic is fitting right in.” Trucker tilted his head.
Vander’s muscles tightened as he followed the biker’s gaze.
Fuck .
Brynn was sitting on a table, her long legs crossed. She was wearing a tiny denim skirt and a black halter top that molded to her torso. Her hair was out.
She had so much hair. All those fascinating strands of brown, gold, tan, and caramel.
Several bikers crowded around her. She laughed and sipped her drink. They watched her like she was a juicy steak, and they were vicious guard dogs, pulling at their chains.
Grill, Trucker’s second in command, leaned in and toyed with her earring.
The guy was about Vander’s age and height, and all muscle.
He kept his brown hair shaved short, had a moustache, and a tattoo of a snake circling his neck.
He looked besotted, but Vander knew the guy had a violent temper and liked to cut people.
Vander didn’t want the asshole anywhere near Brynn. What the hell was she thinking, smiling and flirting with these guys? She’d done her homework, so she was too smart not to know that she was playing with fire. She had to know what Grill was like.
Vander managed to keep from showing any of that on his face. “She gets hurt, Trucker, you’ll answer to me.”
The biker’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not a babysitter, Norcross. You said she can handle herself.”
“You’ll answer to me,” Vander repeated.
“Always fucking lording it over everyone. Getting into Wanderers business.”
Vander turned, his gaze solely on Trucker. “You got a problem, Trucker?”
The man’s body jerked. “No, no problem.”
Vander looked back at Brynn. “Good. You got some new blood?”
“Yeah.” The biker took another swig of beer.
“Where from?” Vander asked.
“All around.” Trucker looked away.
Vander noted some of the new faces. Couple of big guys in leather. One with lots of ink, and the other with a huge, bushy beard. Another, slimmer, man with a wide smile for the woman clinging to him.
Vander would get Ace to run some searches on them all. One of them was the new drug supplier, and from Trucker’s face, he was scared.
Grill slung an arm around Brynn. She looked like she was trying to slide out from under it. When the biker pressed a hand to her thigh, Vander ground his teeth together, and strode toward them. The crowd parted for him.
Brynn’s head shot up and locked on him.
Grill was oblivious, sliding his hand up dangerously close to the hem of her skirt.
Vander grabbed the back of Grill’s vest and yanked him backward.
The man staggered and spun. “What the fuck!” He saw Vander and went still, like a snake had just popped out of the grass.
“Bry,” Vander said.
“It was nothing, V. Just having a good time.” She slid off the table.
Vander grabbed her, hauling her to his side. “Let’s get a drink.”
Grill just glared silently. With an arm around her, Vander headed toward the bar. She slid her arm around his waist, but he noted that she was as stiff as a board.
“Norcross—”
He spun her into him. He was shocked to find that she fit him perfectly. Just the perfect height to mold against his body.
He slid a hand into her hair and tilted her head back. He saw the pulse hammering in her throat, and stroked his thumb along her jaw.
Her chest hitched, but he was mesmerized by those damn freckles sprinkled across her nose.
“Grill is dangerous,” he said.
She made an annoyed sound. “Everyone here is.”
“You need to tread lightly.”
She went up on her toes, their faces inches apart. “Norcross, the most dangerous man here is you.”
“Not to you.”
“Bullshit,” she muttered.
He stared at her lips. Fuck, he wanted to taste them. Would she be tart and bite him? Or would she go soft and taste sweet?
He rubbed his thumb over her lips.
She shuddered. “What are you doing?”
What the hell was he doing? He released her. “Let’s get those drinks.”
She blinked, like she suddenly remembered where they were, and looked around. People watched with varying degrees of curiosity, jealousy, and interest. Some were whispering.
Vander saw Grill staring at them. He stared back, and let his hand slide around Brynn’s denim-encased hip. Grill’s glare intensified, then his face twisted and he looked away.
Brynn grabbed Vander’s shirt. “I know what you’re doing,” she whispered furiously.
He cocked a brow.
“Branding me the property of Vander Norcross.”
“If it helps keep you safe…”
“It means people won’t open up to me,” she whispered.
“That’s your problem, not mine.”
“You were just supposed to do the introduction, not tell everyone I’m yours.”
He gripped her chin. “If they think you’re mine, it might keep you alive.”
“Argh, I really want to punch you.”
He really wanted to kiss her. Damn, that face. Those angry eyes. Vander’s body responded, cock hardening at the thought of tangling with the detective while she was angry.
“Save it for later.” He dredged up some control. “Let’s get a drink, then take a look at the new Iron Wanderers members. See if we can narrow down this new dealer.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Fine.”