Chapter 7 #2
I swallow back the urge to push her away. The urge to pull her closer.
A low whistle rends the air. “Not much of a bike man, but this thing sure is nice. What do you suppose something like this costs?”
Murphy.
Grace freezes, her eyes locked on mine. Even cloaked in darkness, the anger in them is obvious. Maybe even a little fear. I don’t like it. When this OPP bullshit is all said and done, that guy is gonna get my boot in his ass.
“Focus,” Sergeant Allen says. “Has it been searched?”
“Uh, no. Sir. Not really much to search.” Miller. Allen’s new best buddy.
After we released Grace last night, Allen laid into me for over an hour. According to him, I’m too soft. Not the cop he thought I was. We were supposed to be prepared to do whatever it takes .
I’m all for fucking with the Sinners. A little friction between us and them is expected.
Donovan’s got a threshold, and I know exactly where the line is.
How to keep the peace while still saving face.
But I’m not about marking up a woman like he did, and I definitely won’t allow whatever the hell was about to go down in that cell.
Obviously I can be bendy when it comes to the law, but Allen pushed that shit too far.
Grace lets out a small breath, and then that hand of hers moves. Under my shirt. To my chest. Down my stomach and lower. Lower. My dick twitches. God. Not the fucking time. But I don’t stop her. I let those fingers tread down to the edge of my jeans and then?—
Just as she grips the wad of cash stuffed into my pants, I snag her wrist and glare.
Smiling, she tugs, again trying to pull it from my pants.
“Check the seat,” Allen says.
Behind me, feet shuffle, and there’s a rustling sound as they inspect Grace’s bike.
When I can’t easily break her grasp on the package in my jeans, I yank her into me, holding her against my chest, pinning her arm between us and restricting her movements.
For good measure, I snake my arm around her middle, only to graze a hard metal object.
We both freeze as I clutch the gun tucked into the back of her waistband.
A fucking gun. I throw her a look of disbelief.
She only smiles, once again struggling to break free. Grace is shockingly strong for her size, but I’ve got a hell of a grip on her now. What the hell was she planning to do with that gun tonight? Shoot me?
“Hear that?” Allen asks.
We both freeze. Shit.
“Raccoons probably,” Miller says. “Got a strange number of abandoned cars in these parts. They hide out in the trunks sometimes.”
“Sinners,” Allen mutters. “Gangs use cars to transport drugs. They buy ’em cheap, dump their stash, and the dealer picks up. Common tactic.”
“Oh. Uh. Really?” Miller asks.
A scoff. Allen, I think. “The police work is just fucking pristine in this town. Yeah, Miller, really.”
The shuffling starts up again, and a bike seat lands on the ground.
“Nothing here,” Murphy says.
“I want this thing torn apart. Top to bottom.”
Miller clears his throat. “We, uh, got a warrant for that?”
“Do we need one, Officer Miller?” Allen says, tone sharp.
“Uh. Well,” Miller says, but then he falls quiet, like he’s being subjected to one of Sergeant Allen’s alpha-bitch-boy stare downs.
“Do we have an understanding?” Allen asks.
“Yes, sir,” Miller says.
“Donovan and his men are a scourge on this town. I want him in prison. Or dead. I don’t much care which. So are you with us, or do you wanna join your buddy Decker on desk duty?”
The night goes silent for a moment. Then Miller clears his throat. “Yes, uh, sir. I’m with you.”
“Good. Get the bike,” Allen barks. The jingling of keys is followed by the sound of tires rolling across gravel.
Their voices fade as they walk the machine towards the exit.
Only when they’re well out of earshot does Grace speak. “Why the hell does that guy have such a boner for my brother?”
“No fucking clue. I’m more concerned about what the hell you’re doing with a damn gun. You planning on using that on me tonight?”
She wriggles, trying to free herself, but when I don’t let up, she lets out a huff of frustration. “Not your business. Let me go, Decker. And give me my shit.”
“No. I don’t think so.” In one move, I tug the gun from her pants and push her away from me.
She reaches for it, but I bat her away and roll out from under the truck. I’m already heading back to where I came in when she catches up to me.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean this gun is mine now. It’s too big for you anyway.” I shove it into my waistband alongside my own. “Who’d you have to fuck to get your hands on this thing?”
“I didn’t fuck anyone. He did make me blow him, though.”
I stop dead in my tracks and wheel around, red crowding my vision. “You what?”
She snorts, those damn eyes practically twinkling. “I’m kidding, relax. They still hide their shit in the same nooks and crannies of that clubhouse. Wasn’t hard to find one.”
I stare her down, letting that spark of anger that ignited in my chest simmer. “Don’t really give a fuck whose dick you’re putting in your mouth, Grace.”
She tilts her head, her lips twitching. “Kinda feels like you do.”
“Well, I don’t. As for the drugs and the money”—I whip around and stalk towards the fence—“I’m keeping that too.”
Grace’s fingers dig into my arm as she jerks me back. “The hell you are. We had a deal. Which means you still owe me a bike, by the way. I’m not gonna let you?—”
“ Let me?” I smile. “How you gonna stop me, Grace?”
“You’re forgetting what I know about you.” She rolls her shoulders back. “What I could do with that information.”
“And what exactly are you gonna say? It’s your word against mine.
And I’ve been careful. Not much to dig up.
You’re the one who should be worrying. You start running your mouth, Donovan either runs you out of town and I keep your stash, or he kills you and I still keep your stash.
” I dip my head so I’m level with her face.
“Right now, I’ve got a wad of cash and a fuck load of coke, and I’d bet Allen’s left nut that your prints are on both.
You know how much jail time this could get you? I’d call that leverage.”
Her jaw ticks, and she gives me this unyielding, angry stare. But I’ve got no intention of backing down.
No way I’ll let another fucking Donovan think they can force me onto my knees. I’m tired of this shit.
When I only glare back, her eyes turn pleading. “Linc. I’m… I’m not fucking around, okay? Forget the bike. But I need that product. And the cash.”
“Mmm. No.”
“It could get me killed.”
“Not really my problem.”
Her shoulders sag, like she’s actually hurt. Like I’ve betrayed her. Or maybe she’s just surprised her play at blackmail backfired. “You’d seriously let me die over this?”
Depending on the night, maybe.
Sometimes I get so fucking angry about how this all played out, how Axe got me under his thumb.
Before then, I’d let it go—the bad blood, the history between our families .
He used that. Saw a situation that could put him ahead and took advantage of it.
In the lowest of my lows, I mistook a chess move for an olive branch.
By the time I realized what he had against me, it was too late.
It’s not Grace’s fault. She was a girl when it all went down. But it feels like it should be her fault, at least for tonight.
“You want this back, you can have Axe come and retrieve it from me.” I move to the fence, stuff the cash, coke, and her gun in my bag, and then army crawl out.
She doesn’t follow when I walk the half kilometre back to my bike. As I’m tying my bag to the rear, my phone buzzes. Miller.
“Yeah, what?”
He chuckles. “Bad night?”
I smile. “Started that way, but I feel much better now. What’s up?”
“Allen is a fucking maniac. He had me send Gracie Donovan’s motorcycle to a chop shop. A chop shop, Deck. All off the books. He’s tearing the thing apart.”
I mount my machine, keep my focus fixed ahead. “Anything else happen?”
“Yeah, he wouldn’t let me stop to eat. I’m fucking starving.”
“I told you to pack snacks.”
“I thought you were kidding.” He sighs. “So, uh, do I tell the chief? About the bike?”
“No. Or he’ll bench you like he did to me. Wells doesn’t wanna know. He just wants the job done. Keep feeding me updates, all right? We gotta monitor this guy, make sure shit with the Sinners doesn’t get violent.”
“You got it,” he says. “Come for dinner tomorrow? Mel’s making lasagna.”
“Mel hates me, Jake.”
“Yeah, cause you’re a dick. Don’t mean you can’t come over, though.”
I shake my head, fighting a smile. “Just bring me the leftovers.”
“Linc,” he says, his tone suddenly sharp.
“Yeah, yeah, all right.”
“Bring wine. It’ll soften her up a bit.”
I snort. “Anything for lasagna. Later.”
Once I’ve stashed my phone, I pull on my helmet and fire up my bike. Up the street, a woman in black leans against a building. Knit tuque, leather jacket, pissed-off look on her face.
I wave. Grace flips me off. I laugh.
I have no fucking clue what kind of shit she’s gotten herself wrapped up in or why she’s hiding it from the few men on this planet who are capable of protecting her. But for the first time in ten years, I have leverage on a Donovan.
And I’m going to fucking use it.