Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
G etting ready for work the next morning, Brynn muttered angrily to herself and slammed a mug down on the kitchen counter.
Damn Vander Norcross.
He’d blown into her life, made her want him more than she’d ever wanted anyone, and then held himself back.
“ Men .” She poured herself some coffee and scowled. How dare he kiss her? The best, sexiest, hungriest kisses she’d ever had, and then, he’d backed off? And to say that he didn’t want her tangles and complications.
Fuck that. Being tangled up with her would be awesome.
“You keep staring at that coffee like that and it might explode.” Her brother walked in, looking sleepy, wearing gray sweats and no shirt.
“I hate all men today, so watch out.”
Bard held up his hands. “Hey, I didn’t do anything.”
“You have a Y chromosome.” Brynn sipped her coffee, burned her tongue, and cursed.
Her brother touched her hair. “What’s wrong, Bee?”
At the use of her childhood nickname, she blew out a breath. “There’s a guy.”
“Is it Jack?”
She frowned. “Who’s Jack?”
“Nay’s nice teacher guy from work.”
“God, no.”
“Want me to beat your guy up?”
“You wouldn’t be able to,” she said sourly.
“You usually do your own beating up. Even when you were little.”
“He’s interested, but he’s holding back. He doesn’t want to get ‘involved.’” She waggled her fingers in air quotes. “He thinks I’m all trouble and complications.”
Bard’s lips quirked.
She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare take his side.”
“You aren’t simple, Brynn, not by a long shot.” He tugged her hair. “And that’s a good thing.” He paused. “This the guy from the other night?”
“Yes.” Thank God Bard hadn’t seen who it was.
“What’s his name? Is he a cop?”
“He’s not a cop, and don’t go all big brother on me.”
“All right. So I take it Naomi’s friend Jack doesn’t have a chance?”
Brynn shot him a look.
Her brother grinned and poured his own coffee. As he sipped, he eyed her outfit. “I see you’re still rocking the biker chick look today.”
She was wearing sprayed-on jeans, and a tight, white tank with the Harley Davidson logo on it. “Yeah. I need to drop some parts off. I’m going to pop into headquarters first, and touch base with Hunt.”
Bard frowned. “Be careful, Brynn.”
“I will.” She kissed his cheek. “You, too.”
“And Bee, if that guy is smart, he’ll come around. He won’t be able to stay away.”
An ache ignited in her belly. Bard didn’t know Vander Norcross’ iron will.
Brynn jumped on her Triumph and rode around for a while, until she was sure no one was following her, before heading into headquarters.
Her phone vibrated as she headed up in the elevator. It was a message from Carrin.
Heads up. Naomi is going to have another go at you about Jack.
Ugh. Brynn tapped into her phone.
Groan. I’m not interested.
Because of your new mystery guy.
Brynn sucked in a breath. God, her siblings were such nosy gossips.
OMG. Bard has a big mouth.
He’s never seen you like this. Usually, you let guys slide right off you. Teflon is your middle name.
That’s not true. I was totally in love with Brandon McGee.
Brynn, that’s when you were twelve. It doesn’t count.
This guy…it’s new. And he’s fighting it pretty hard.
Nothing worth having comes easily.
Brynn rolled her eyes.
Thank you, Teddy Roosevelt.
Oh, is that who said that?
Go prosecute a criminal.
Go catch one.
I would if my nosy siblings butted out of my love life.
Her sister signed off with a kiss emoji.
As Brynn strolled into the office area, she copped the teasing and wolf whistles around her outfit and tattoos. She headed for her office with a wave and an eye roll.
“Nice jeans, Sullivan!”
“Sullivan,” Jankowski called out. “You can fix my engine any day.”
“Your engine’s too rusted, Jankowski,” she yelled back.
Hoots of laughter followed.
“I hope my best detectives are behaving in a manner becoming of the San Francisco Police Department,” a deep voice said.
Lieutenant William Cook stepped into the room. Brynn’s lips twitched. All the detectives suddenly looked very busy.
“Sullivan,” the lieutenant said. “How’s it going with the Wanderers?”
Lieutenant Cook was a tall man with a footballer’s body. He had dark skin, black hair, and a jaw that would make a superhero proud. He was the kind of solid cop her father had been.
“Fine, sir. They seem to be accepting me so far. No ID on the new dealer yet.”
“Okay, keep me posted. And keep your head down.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hunt appeared. The dark expression on his rugged face made her wince internally. He waved her into his office.
“Hey,” she said.
He closed the door. “Word on the street is that Vander’s branded you as his woman.”
“Yes. He figured it would help explain why he’d recommended me to the club. And keep me safe. It was completely unnecessary.”
Hunt crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s all there is?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.
“So, you weren’t kissing him at a biker party?”
Brynn huffed out a breath. “It was part of the cover. Tobin ‘Grill’ Brady was hassling me.”
Her cousin’s frown deepened. “Grill is a psychopath.”
“I can handle him. I didn’t need Vander’s heavy-handed, caveman tactics, but I’ll work with it.”
Hunt grunted. “Any progress?”
“Not as much as I’d like. I’ve had a few interactions with the new members, but nothing’s popped.
I like Shotgun, the former enforcer from Chicago, as the dealer.
He’s tough, experienced, and smart. Bender’s from LA, and as far as I can tell, he’s a biker to the core.
He’s all about riding and living free. Nomad from Arizona is a ladies’ man.
Flirts with me every time I see him, and from what I hear, he’s already banged half the single biker babes in the club.
He seems too laid-back and easy-going to be a drug-dealing mastermind. ”
“Whoever it is, he’ll show his hand sooner or later.”
She nodded. She was hoping for sooner. “I’m heading over to drop some parts at the garage. I have some for the new guys too. I might learn something.”
“Okay. Brynn, steer clear of Vander.”
She frowned. “You said you trusted him.”
“With your safety, yes. With anything else, absolutely not.”
Brynn grinned and patted her cousin’s cheek. “You’re cute when you go all big brother.”
“Get out of here.”
She headed to the impound lot when her phone pinged. It was a message from Naomi.
So, about Jack…
Ugh, her sister was like a dog with a bone.
NO.
At Impound, she collected the parts she needed from the ever-cheerful Manuel. The jovial officer was in his sixties, and had worked in impound for years. He was always happy.
“Here you go, Detective Sullivan. Everything you requested.”
“Thanks, Manuel.” She packed the parts into the saddlebags on her bike. “You and I could start a side business. We’d make a fortune selling parts.”
He let out a loud, guffawing laugh. “Get out of here.”
Brynn got on her bike. Her smile faded as she rode to Oakland. She pulled up at the Wanderers garage, and saw Trucker and two of the new guys—Bender and Nomad.
Trucker seemed a little edgier than usual. Was one of these guys the dealer? The one putting pressure on Trucker?
“Morning.” She lugged in the parts.
“Hey, darlin’,” Trucker said.
Bender nodded. Up close, she saw just how much ink he had.
Nomad smiled, all charm. “Hi, Bry.”
“Here are the parts you wanted.” She set them on the workbench.
“Fucking A.” Nomad’s smile widened. “Thanks.”
She nodded. “I’ll be next door, working on that Harley Low Rider.”
She strolled through the doorway. Once in the neighboring bay, she tilted her head and listened to the murmur of the men’s voices as they started talking.
The volume of the conversation dropped, and she crept closer to the doorway to listen.
“Fuck with me, Trucker, and you’ll regret it.” A low murmur.
Damn, she couldn’t tell which of the bikers had spoken.
“Fuck you,” Trucker growled.
“You and me will meet with Bones. He wants you there. A united front.”
Trucker growled.
“The Back Corner Bar. We’ll—”
She strained to hear what the men were saying. They were moving away, out of the bay.
“…three PM.”
“Fuck you,” Trucker spat again.
She peered around the doorway, and saw Trucker and the others stomping off.
Brynn tapped a finger on her lips. The Back Corner Bar. Three o’clock.
Her pulse tripped. This could be it. A meet between Trucker, the dealer, and some other player named Bones.
She made herself do some more work on the Harley, but her head was spinning. She needed to organize backup. She’d have to put an undercover officer in the bar.
Jankowski would do it.
She’d get there earlier, make it look like a coincidence that she happened to be there having a late lunch.
Excitement shot through her. This was it.
* * *
At three o’clock, she found herself playing pool with a big, African-American man called Billy. A half-eaten burger sat beside her, along with a half-empty beer. Her leather satchel rested close by with her SIG inside.
She was waiting for the guests of honor to arrive. She scanned the bar again, her gaze moving right through Jankowski, sitting at the bar, holding a beer.
He looked like he was brooding.
The door opened. The newcomer who strode in was too handsome for his own good. Jeans shaped muscular legs, and she was one-hundred-percent sure he’d have an excellent ass. His navy-blue T-shirt was so tight that the sleeves cut into his muscled biceps. Interesting tattoos flowed down his arms.
He headed for a table in the back, an eager waitress following him.
Wait . There was something about the way he moved…
Her gaze snapped back to his face and the dark, shaggy hair falling over his forehead.
Pieces clicked. Rhys Norcross.
Vander’s younger brother, and top investigator.
Dammit to hell.
She took a few deep breaths, lined up her next shot, and took it.
“Hey, sugar,” she said to Billy. “I need the ladies’. I’ll be back soon.”