Dude with a Cool Car (Concrete Angels MC Book 2)

by Siobhan Muir

  My anger kindled at her accusation. Yeah, because you know she’s right. “No, thanks, you’re not even my type. And as I understand it, you’re taken.”

  “Listen here, you entitled prick, ’cause I’m only gonna say this once. When you leave my office this morning, you better go straight to Karma and lay it all out, or just walk the fuck away from the Concrete Angels entirely. Don’t even bother telling Loki goodbye. This club, as repugnant as you might think we are, is still a family and built on trust, experience, and a remarkable amount of honesty and integrity. So, if you can’t uphold that shit, I’ll give you a head start before I tell the rest of the members who you really are. Got me?”

  I nodded, anger still humming in my veins. “I got you. But you better remember what it’s like to be an agent of the law heading into an unknown situation. I might not have gone about it the best way, but there was no way in hell I’d give away who I was until I was sure your club wasn’t part of the organization trying to stamp out interference. I’ve lost friends trying to find out about this. Friends I cared about who had families, experience, honesty and integrity, and they were either fired or killed for it. So don’t get on your high horse over me playing it close to my chest.”

  “That high horse you’re referring to centers around horny men who believe themselves to be entitled to free sex without paying the price of honesty. It doesn’t excuse what you did, and I remember what it’s like to be an agent in the unknown. Probably better than you.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. She’d been raped and turned out by the FBI, then brought to the Concrete Angels. I didn’t know the full story behind how she’d gotten there, but they’d evidently earned her respect and loyalty since then.

  “Fine. We both know where we stand and I’ll tell Karma as soon as I’m done here. In the meantime, I got one last question for you. Can you tell from those symbols where the money has gone now or do you need more of my help to track it down?”

  She scowled and I suspected she wanted to shoot me, but she turned her attention back to the ledgers and scrutinized the symbols there.

  “All of these are Backlog deposits, but then there’s this other symbol on almost all of them.” She pointed to another V with a straight vertical line between the uprights, like an arrow but the straight line didn’t top the uprights of the letter. “See? It’s been going back about…” She clicked through the images on the screen. “Eight months or so of the ledger.”

  I rubbed my chin, grateful Oriana was still willing to work with me. “Eisenburg must have had a key somewhere. Some sort of legend that mentioned what the coded symbols are.”

  “If he did, we haven’t found it. He might have destroyed it when we caught on to him.”

  “Did anyone search his residence off-site? He must have had a place to live before he became Roy.”

  “The police probably did, but if what you say is true, Backlog probably got rid of anything tying them to him.” Oriana shrugged, but then she paused, her gaze unfocusing. “Wait. Roy left the compound in a hurry and didn’t take all his stuff. We cleaned out his cabin and found a few things that seemed really random. He had a bunch of pop culture figurines, like Star Wars, Harry Potter, and Assassin’s Creed.”

  She rose and came around the desk without looking at me. Curious, I followed her out of her office and down the hallway to a door marked “storage.” Originally, it had probably been the room where the hotel would’ve held luggage after people checked out and waited on taxis to the airport. Now it seemed to contain a Lost & Found bin, some old Army surplus camping gear, and random boxes full of knickknacks and loose electrical cords.

  Oriana grabbed one of the boxes and rifled through it, pulling out Pez dispensers, Matchbox cars, random dolls’ shoes, even a handful of Lego bricks.

  “There it is.” She reached in the box and produced an old figurine from one of the Sci-Fi shows aired in the 1990s. As I recalled, the character had been the chief engineer on the starship and he wore some weird kind of headband spray-painted gold over his eyes. The figure stood on a little plastic dais to keep it upright, but Oriana turned it over to look at the bottom. I expected it to be hollow, but it contained a battery compartment to allow it to make sounds.

  “Please tell me that thing doesn’t sing Christmas carols.”

  She snorted. “I have no idea. It wouldn’t surprise me.” She pried open the little battery box and sighed with pleasure. “Eureka.” She held up a tiny flashdrive with a grin. “Let’s see what’s on this little baby.”

  She shoved the flash drive into her pocket and tossed the figurine back into the box, adding the rest of the junk on top of it. I followed her back to her office, something bugging me. It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

  “Do you think he’d really leave that behind if it had anything important on it?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I mean, if you’re trying to get out of here, you wouldn’t leave incriminating evidence where anyone could get a hold it.”

  “I wouldn’t, but he might not have had enough time to grab it. Or he only took the stuff that was really important.” She sat back down and pulled out a tablet and a USB adaptor. “He probably figured no one would look at his toys and it would be safe until he could either retrieve it or get someone to bring it to him. And if he died, no one would know.”

  “How did you know to look there?”

  She plugged the USB adaptor into the tablet and the flash drive into the adaptor before she met my gaze. “I had one of the original figurines from a popular video game about spies back when I was a kid. Each figure came with a stand that had a secret compartment for messages you could leave for your friends who played the game to find. At the time it was done by mail because email wasn’t a thing yet. I used to hide all sorts of things in there, dreaming about being a spy.”

  “Before you plug that into your tablet, you better make sure you don’t have anything on it you can’t lose. It might hold a virus or worm.” The last thing Oriana needed was Backlog getting a hold of the Concrete Angels’ information. Or more than they already have.

  “Sit down before you hurt yourself, junior.” She shook her head. “This tablet isn’t connected to any network or the internet. And if it clears the hard drive, I can have Neo rebuild it.”

  She plugged in the drive and tapped the tablet, bringing up the directory. I didn’t look over her shoulder, but I definitely wanted to know what she found.

  “Holy shit, we definitely hit pay dirt.” She flipped the tablet to me. “Check out the little key to Mr. Squiggles’ diary.”

  The list of symbols with explanations weren’t in a specific order, but they’d been clearly written down and scanned into the digital realm. In addition, there were what looked like account numbers and a list of names with locations and agency designations. Holy shit, this was his insurance backup. Eisenburg had compiled a list of info on other members who’d been connected to Backlog and where they worked.

  “Apparently, Eisenburg didn’t trust his bosses any more than he trusted you. Can I get a copy of that list of names?” Oriana raised an eyebrow and I held up my hand. “Just the names and agencies so I can know who’s on the take. I don’t need to know where the money came from or where it went.”

  She tilted her head. “I’ll give it to you on one condition.”

  My mouth flattened into a line. “What’s the condition?”

  “You tell Karma the truth, warts and all, and let her make decision on what she wants to do about you.”

  Panic hit my gut and sickness followed it. I could lose Karma with that admission. But I’ve already lost her if I can’t be honest. Fuck in a bucket. I’d heard of those ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ scenarios in movies and books, but I’d never actually lived one until now.

  I cleared my throat. “And if I don’t?”

  She shrugged. “Not only do you not get a copy of the list, but I’ll broadcast to the whole club who and what you are. The choice is yours.”

&
nbsp; Yeah, I was afraid of that. Of course, she wouldn’t be worth her salt if she didn’t threaten me.

  “Got it. I’ll go talk to Karma.” I could lie to her and not do it, but we both knew I wasn’t. That list of names was too important. So is Karma.

  “Good choice. Give me a chance to isolate the list and I’ll print it out for you.”

  “Thanks.” I planned to wait for the list, but my phone rang and Battlebourne’s ringtone, Rhapsody in Blue, trilled through the small space.

  “George Gershwin?”

  I smirked and shrugged. “It’s a joke. I’m gonna take this and I’ll be back for that list.”

  I ducked out the door again as I answered the phone. “DeVille.”

  “DeVille, you gotta come in. The higher-ups are starting to ask questions about why you’re taking so much leave.” Battlebourne sounded tense and harried.

  “Yeah, give me a minute to get somewhere private.” I scanned the clubhouse, but there were people everywhere, including the women the members called honeys. I didn’t see Karma, but at the moment, I really didn’t want to. Instead, I pushed through the front doors of the clubhouse and headed for my car behind the barn. I almost missed my silent shadow, the guy who’d been watching me the night before, as he stood just inside the workshop entrance, but I nodded to him. Surprisingly, he nodded back.

  “Yeah, okay, I’m clear. What’s going on, Battlebourne?”

  “It’s the Assistant Director. He’s been hounding me to find out where you are and why the hell you’ve been gone so long. You have to wrap this up soon, son.”

  I nodded, but grimaced at the same time. “I just need another few days and I’ll have all the answers I’ve been looking for.” And I’d know if the Assistant Director was part of the problem. I ducked down to check my car for more listening devices but I didn’t see any. “I’ll tell you this, though. The Concrete Angels aren’t involved in…the organization.”

  I still couldn’t say Backlog’s name aloud on the phone to the U.S. Marshal’s office. I didn’t trust Battlebourne’s phoneline.

  “Are you sure? They were the last ones to see Eisenburg and Hopkins alive.”

  “I’m sure. But I thought Hopkins died in Searchlight, Nevada.”

  Battlebourne hissed. “That’s where they found the body, but it had been dumped. Down a 400-ft deep mine shaft.”

  “Shit. They figure out a cause of death?”

  “Nope. But the corpse was desiccated damn near beyond all recognition. They had to use dental records.”

  “Hell. Okay, I can’t prove the Concrete Angels had a hand in his death. From my research, none of their local members were anywhere near Nevada in the time frame. But I can prove that Eisenburg was embezzling money from them and sending it somewhere other than the FBI.”

  “The organization you mentioned.”

  “Yup.”

  “You got records and confirmation?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, hot damn, son. Bring it in.”

  “Just give me a few days and I’ll have everything I need.” I hoped. “I don’t want to expose the Concrete Angels to the organization.”

  “They already have been if Eisenburg was in there.”

  “Not like this. They might have some dubious motives, but they don’t deserve the shit the organization brings.”

  “Fuck. Someone’s coming. Look, hurry up and get that information, then get your ass back to work.”

  Battlebourne hung up and I stared at the phone in my hand. I’d damn near run out of time. I shoved the phone into my pocket and turned around to head for the clubhouse to get the list. Then I have to face Karma. Yeah, I was looking forward to that as much as a prostate exam. Except if I was coughing, it would be because she’d kicked me in the balls.

  I reached the doors of the clubhouse and pulled them open, stepping through out of the sunlight. There wasn’t a breath of sound and my gut told me to be careful. I glanced around for enemies, but the room was empty. Odd.

  I strode to Oriana’s office and glanced inside. She wasn’t there. The computer showed its dancing screensaver and all the papers sat in neat piles on the surface. The tablet and flash drive were gone, but the computer sat alone and unattended. Some folded pieces of paper with my last name inscribed on them sat on the edge of the desk. I picked them up and opened the fold.

  Mr. DeVille,

  Here’s the list of names you wanted from Eisenburg’s files. Now, go make good on your promise to talk to Karma.

  Oriana Hunter.

  I stared at the note before I folded the pages again and shoved them into the waistband of my jeans at my back, flipping my t-shirt over them. I glanced at the computer, considering if I should try to find more, but Oriana had given me what I wanted and anything else would be a violation of trust. And probably would get me killed. Yeah, not on the list of my long-range plans.

  Instead, I turned around and retreated to the main room of the clubhouse. A few people had come in and sat watching one of the big screen TVs hanging on the wall. I caught sight of Attila standing with the woman named Dollhouse, and both of them watched me go by. I waved, but they didn’t wave back and my gut flipped over. Had Oriana told everyone who I was? If she did, I’m probably a good extra for The Walking Dead.

  I just hoped I could talk to Karma before all hell broke loose, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

  Chapter Twelve

  Karma

  My phone chirped and I glanced down at it despite Loki’s glare of disapproval. I caught the text message from Coop and my heart rate went up. Why was it that even a little message from him could make me happy? I swiped the screen and read his words.

  Got some info I need to run down and calls to make to contacts. Will try to get back tonight, but if not, may I come back tomorrow, Ma’am?

  I smiled as a thrill of joy zipped up my back. He’d not only asked permission but he did it with the agreed upon honorific. Damn, that was sexy. But I wanted to test him anyway.

  You will come back tonight so I can be sure you are safe and well taken care of. Besides, I’d like a dance since you didn’t come to the party last night.

  There, that should get a response of one kind or another. I shoved my phone into my back pocket as I returned my attention to what Neo had found so far. Coop might be hiding something about himself, but he’d come through after talking with Numbers. Not only had he helped her identify some of the symbols in Eisenburg’s ledger, but he’d also clued her into the key to the rest of the symbols. We’d discovered a wealth of information.

  My phone vibrated against my ass and I pulled it back out.

  I don’t really dance that well. Does swaying to the beat count?

  I snorted in humor and started typing.

  No. You’re gonna have to do better than that. But I might be willing to train you if you ask nicely.

  My finger hovered over the send key and I bit my bottom lip. Domme’s didn’t use the word “train” unless they meant something far more intimate and long-term. If I sent the text as it was written, would he know what I meant? And did I mean it that way? Was I offering to train him to be the sub who held my heart as well as my attention?

  Sweet Goddess, it’s true. I want him to be mine, forever and ever. I hit send on my phone, my heart pounding with the implications of the words I’d used. I held the phone in my hand, sweat popping out on my forehead as I waited for his response. Would he understand? And if he didn’t, would I just let it go?

  The seconds passed in excruciating slowness as I waited for him. Can’t he type faster? But I took a deep breath and tried to keep myself calm. When the phone vibrated again, I couldn’t swipe fast enough.

  Please, Madam, would you train me to dance with you?

  I let out my breath with a sort of soft whimper that had Michael shooting me a raised eyebrow, but the grin I offered must have satisfied him because he didn’t do anything else.

  I will happily train you to dance with me. You must be here at
1900 sharp and wear a pair of cowboy boots, preferably black.

  Cowboy boots? Do I need to bring a matching hat?

  I snorted softly. Do you have one?

  Yes, Ma’am. Stetson and everything.

  Oh, be still my thundering heart. I could imagine Coop wearing his faded jeans that hugged his ass and thighs, a black Stetson, and his black boots crossed at the ankles as he leaned against his cool car. Fuck, that’s a sexy image. And I could have the real thing.

  Hell yeah, bring the hat.

  Will do. I’ll dress for you any way you like, Ma’am, but we definitely need to talk tonight. I got something important to tell you.

  And just like that, the sexy fantasy popped. I hadn’t known him long enough to hear his voice through text, but “we need to talk” wasn’t a phrase to be handed out lightly. He could be thinking of proposing. Yeah, and I could be a fully human woman with ancestors in the English Monarchy, but neither were likely.

  See you at 1900.

  “You want to join us again here, Karma?” Loki’s voice intruded as I shoved my phone into my pocket.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Say something really important and I’m all over it.”

  “I’d think a shadow organization infiltrating law enforcement agencies and manipulating us to do their dirty work would be riveting.” Loki raised an eyebrow, a dangerous move for most of the members.

  “Yeah, that’s pretty bad. Thank the Goddess Coop was here to decipher that for us.” I nodded at Numbers who scowled. “But I’m pretty sure Numbers found the rest of the key to Eisenburg’s symbols so how ’bout we let her talk rather than you and Neo? I think you’ve flapped your gums enough.”

  Loki blinked and Neo’s eyes grew wide while Michael chuckled. Numbers allowed a faint smile to curl her lips until Loki shot her a look.

  “Okay, so what I’ve determined is this V with a straight line between the uprights isn’t a down-arrow, it represents a brothel or prostitution den. V for a woman’s legs, line for…well you get it.” Numbers shook her head. “In any case, all the payments that went to the brothel also had the symbol for the Backlog, according to Coop. I didn’t find the Backlog’s symbol in Eisenburg’s key, but when I added up all the entries with that little inclined T, the sum equated to our missing money. Three million dollars’ worth.”