Chapter 21
I sip my coffee as I wait for my lunch order, my head resting against the window facing Kuppajoe’s storefront.
“Sure you don’t want one?” Miller asks as he nudges a freshly made Boston Cream across the table. “They’re still warm.”
Frustration swirls in my chest. “What I want is to know what the fuck Allen is up to.”
According to Miller, he’s been talking a whole lot of shit about finally putting an end to the Donovan reign. I don’t know what the fuck he means by that, but it feels like something’s coming. And if it is, I need the details before he lays down the full wrath of the OPP on the Sinners.
It’s why I’m here. Axe promised me an arrest, and he’s about to deliver. With a Sinner in the back of my cruiser, I’m all but guaranteed a spot on Sergeant’s good side.
“You can wonder about the sergeant and also enjoy this donut,” Miller says.
“That’s not a lunch, man. Keep eating like that and you’ll wind up as round as the chief.”
He snorts. “I keep up with you just fine. And Mel made me a lunch today. Meatball sub. This is just the pregame.”
“Yeah?” I take another sip of coffee. “What’d you have to do to convince her to do that?”
“Nothing.” He takes another bite and wipes at his mouth with a napkin. “Sometimes when people are in a relationship, they just do nice things for each other. Try it sometime. Maybe it’ll get you more than a first date.”
“And why the hell would I want that?”
“ Everyone wants that. It feels good. I imagine you’d be a hell of a lot more pleasant to be around if you had a nice girl on your arm.”
With a snort, I snatch the donut from his hand and bite into it. “I don’t do nice.”
“Fine, then a mean one. You could stand to be knocked down a couple pegs anyway. Speaking of which,” he says with a grin. “How’s Grace?”
I narrow my eyes. I haven’t heard from her. Four days, and no text. Not like I’ve gone out of my way to call her either. She’s supposed to be out of my system. She’s supposed to be out of my fucking head.
But she’s all that’s in my head.
Pretty smile, that little eye roll she loads up every time words come out of my mouth.
I can’t stop picturing her in my garage, on her knees, grease-covered fingers and a wrench in her hand.
I don’t know why the image is so damn sexy, but I want to fuck up my motorcycle just so I can call her to help me fix it.
And maybe after, we could go for ride. Grace on her bike, tearing up the pavement, slicing over the road like she fucking owns it.
That would feel good, I think. Like Miller said.
And the sex? All that getting her out of my system did the exact fucking opposite.
It’s a problem. This feeling needs to go away.
This need to pull her into my arms, to touch her, to wrap my hand around her throat, memorize the beat of her pulse as she takes exactly what I want to give her.
I can’t afford to be distracted right now.
Between Allen, the Sinner prez breathing down my neck, and the shitstorm about to drop on South Bay, shit is about to come to a head.
I shouldn’t be thinking about her. I shouldn’t be thinking about how she rolled out of my bed sometime in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.
She did leave me with one thing, though. The answer I’ve been looking for. A way out.
Axe has a weakness. Just sitting right out in the open.
I don’t know how I didn’t see it. Even Allen figured it out before me.
Grace said it. She does something that puts Kat in danger, Axe would obliterate her. Jack is the same. It’s their women. I put a gun to Kat’s head, and Axe will fold. He’ll fall to the ground and put his neck under my boot just the way mine’s been under his for ten fucking years.
It’s all about that leverage. Gaining control over the one thing they’d lay down their fucking lives for.
Applying pressure. Only thing stopping me from lighting that candle is the tiniest part of my conscience that’s still holding on.
But push comes to shove, backed into a corner, I think I could use that, use her.
My phone vibrates, pulling me from my thoughts, and when I tug it from my pocket, Grace’s name pops up on the screen.
“That her?” Miller asks.
I glare at him. “Mind your business.”
He chuckles. “It is, isn’t it? Every time I bring her up, you get this little twitch in your eye. Like you’re trying to wrestle your dick into submission. And losing.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I say as I pull up the message.
Grace:
Big bad Officer Decker. All dressed up.
I scan the late-morning Saturday breakfast crowd taking up most of the outdoor seating, stopping on the table farthest from me, where Grace is sitting next to Triss, sipping what I imagine is an obscenely sweet coffee. We lock eyes, and she smirks as she glances back down at her phone and types.
Grace:
How’s your bike? Riding smooth?
Me:
She’s been a dream. Good old Barbara Ann never lets me down.
Grace:
Classic Barb. So reliable.
Me:
Like I said. The perfect woman.
Grace:
That’s what you look for in a woman? Reliability?
Me:
I like woman who can land a good punch and beat me to the finish line.
When I look back up at her, she’s smiling, her thumbs pounding down on her screen.
Grace:
What else?
Me:
Mean, hot, curves in all the right places.
Grace:
Can take a long, hard ride.
Me:
Exactly. Perfect woman.
Grace:
Wait. Are we still talking about your bike? Or do I have to fight someone?
Me:
Only person I want you fighting, is me. Naked.
Grace:
What happened to me being out of your system?
Miller speaks, snagging my attention a second before my phone vibrates again.
“What?” I ask.
He shoves the rest of his donut into his mouth. “I said I gotta take a shit. Then we should go. The sergeant said he’s got plans for me today.”
I scoff. “Yeah, fucking of course he does.”
He smiles as he pushes to standing. “You’re just jealous I’m the new golden boy.”
“Take all the glory you want. Just be careful you don’t drag South Bay into the crossfire on your way to collect your hero badge. Bullets start flying, you know who will end up bleeding.”
Another vibrate. Against my better judgement, I open the message.
Grace:
You know what I’ve been thinking about? That thing you do with your tongue.
Me:
Yeah? What else?
Grace:
How badly I want to feel your cock hitting the back of my throat.
Heat flooding me, I find her in the crowd.
She smiles, bottom lip pulled into her teeth. Fucking. Woman.
Me:
Careful. Or I might have to tie you up again and do some very bad things to you.
Grace:
Yeah? What kind of things? Describe them to me.
Me:
I’d rather show you. You’re getting pretty good at begging. All you gotta do is say please.
“Decker.” A deep voice startles me. Jumping, I dart a look at the man towering over me. Thick beard, long hair tied back, disconcerting resemblance to the man who sired me. My brother. “We gonna do this or what?”
Confused, I frown up at him. When he only lifts his brows, it dawns on me. “He sent you ?”
I expected someone important. Axe’s inner circle. Maybe Tex. It’s been a while since he’s been in jail, and other than Jack, his record is probably the cleanest. That’s important. Someone with too long a rap sheet might get a jail sentence too severe for Axe to stomach. Too big a sacrifice.
The cleaner the record, the easier it’ll be for Triss to argue the prosecutor down to a bullshit sentence like community service or some sort of program.
But Jack? He’s the VP of an outlaw MC. There’s no arguing around that, no lesser sentence.
“Go sit down. Your idiot prez has lost his damn mind. I can’t arrest you.”
He grins. “Then I’ll make you. Check my left pocket before you book me.”
The slap he lays on me nearly knocks me off my chair. I recover in time to jump up and dodge his next hit, but the damage has been done.
Panicked shouts sound off around the restaurant, and customers rush away from the commotion.
Jack throws all his weight into his next punch.
I sidestep him and slam his face into the window of the coffeeshop.
Blood spurts from his nose, and he grunts, swaying slightly as he whips around.
The next punch that lands is mine, and I’ve quickly got him pressed face down on the table, hands behind his back and cuffs on his wrists.
Like he asked, I shove my hand into his left pocket and wrap my fingers around what feels like a small bag of coke.
“God dammit,” I mutter as I shove it into my pocket.
“Hey!” Grace yells as she shoulders her way through the growing crowd. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
By the grace of God, Miller appears at the perfect moment and blocks her. “Stand down, Gracie.”
“The hell I will. That’s my brother. You can’t just?—”
“Grace,” I growl. “You take another step, and I’ll arrest you for obstruction. Please do not make me do that.”
She makes a scene, I can’t save her either. There are too many people watching, too many phones out.
Jack grins at her, teeth stained red with blood. “All good, Gracie. Go sit with Triss.” He nods towards the far table. Despite the chaos, Triss hasn’t moved. She’s staring, eyes rage-filled, arms crossed.
Grace is still watching us, face murderous, when I haul her brother through the crowd.
Once I’ve tossed him into the back of the car, I take a long fucking breath and duck into the driver’s seat.
Miller slides in a second later, twisting back and giving Jack a big grin. “Hey, Graves. You got a little blood on your face.”
Jack spits at the partition, leaving a glob of bloody saliva sliding down the clear panel. “Fuck you, Miller.”
My partner only chuckles as he leans back in his seat. “Sergeant will like this one, Deck. Maybe there’s still time for you to get back in his good graces.”
“You know all I want is Daddy’s approval.” I’ve just put the car in reverse when I remember my lunch. “Fuck. I forgot my sandwich. Grab it for me?”
With a nod, Miller pushes out of the car.