Corrupted: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Blacktop Sinners MC)

by Kathryn Thomas

  “Charges? The Hell? Is this some kind of kangaroo court? Fucking A, guys?”

  “No,” Spike said, pushing a long strand of greasy midnight black hair from out of his eyes. “This is serious. The whole thing was a clear set up, designed to get me to ‘murder’ the vice president of a rival gang. Cops were supposed to catch us at this, and then you disappear.”

  “You know I was in the hospital,” he said, gesturing to his scar. “Hell, you had Ron track me down. I’m just saying that you know me, I’d never betray any of you.”

  “Then where’s the blade?” Smitty pressed, his eyes small and piggish behind his doughy face. Age had been far from kind to him as he approached middle age.

  “I left it at the hospital. I forgot to grab it with the rest.”

  “Likely fucking story,” Bones growled, his eyes as dark as his skin, and Derek shuddered a little. His number two behind Ron was possibly the toughest son of a bitch he’d ever met. He’d seen Bones earn his moniker by literally beating a Los Lobos member to death, making the facial bones crunch under a continuous assault of fist on flesh. “You left the evidence some place cops could find it? And you goddamn expect us to think it’s ‘convenient?’ I call ‘bullshit.’”

  “Bone, relax,” Spike intoned, his word still law. “Explain and fast. It’s not like you to mess up.”

  “There was this bitch nurse. She distracted me, and I’m sorry. I could have done better if she hadn’t gotten nosy.” Part of that was true. He had been distracted but by thoughts of what fucking one Tess Everhart rotten would have felt like, not because she was overbearing. Of course, he had worked hard to hide the main insignia on his cut, to make sure she never spied the flaming rose on his jacket and connected him to the biggest gang in Boone.

  He’d often found in his misspent youth and the rest of his criminal career that the best lies were mixed with truth. It made it harder to get confused that way.

  “So a bitch nurse scares the great Derek Allanson off. Still seems either like you’re seriously losing your touch, brother, or you’re yanking our chains,” Smitty replied, his voice cold and deliberate, like ice.

  “Then,” Ron said, stepping shoulder to shoulder with Derek and holding up his hands, palms front. “Let’s be logical here. We know that Grinder’s never done anything but have the whole damn club’s back. We know he got hospitalized drawing the cops off of Spike. Give him five days to get back to the hospital and get the blade back out of the lost and found or wherever it is. Then we can destroy it and eliminate proof that ties any of us to the murder of Gunner Hansen. Bastard couldn’t get us mowed down in life; he’s certainly not undoing the Blacktop Sinners in death.”

  Spike considered this and, despite his tough exterior, Derek felt his heart stop. He’d been wet works for his president for years. He knew exactly how ruthless Spike could be. After all, it was a requirement not just for Spike’s survival but for the club, itself. If Spike nodded this minute, then Bones and Bullet would have free reign to put a quick end to Derek.

  He forced his breath to remain even, to keep himself from doing anything that would even look like incrimination. His heart might be hammering a million beats a minute, but on the outside, Derek was as collected as ever.

  Finally, after what felt like years, Spike spoke. “I’m not giving you that long. You have seventy-hours, starting now. If you don’t bring me that blade, then, God help you; you’re going out back with Bones and Bullet.”

  Derek nodded. He’d taken people out back himself, and the few who came back spent months in traction. But fair was fair. If he’d been set up, he was going to get the knife back, get the proof against the real culprit, and enjoy pounding that rat bastard’s face into creamed corn. Right now, though? He had to play the hand as it had been dealt.

  “Deal. I’ll have it sooner than that.”

  “For your sake,” Spike said, his tone wavering just a bit, just the tiniest bit unsure. “I hope so.”

  ***

  “You should have told me what I was walking into, Ron,” he hissed once they got back in his friend’s Pontiac TransAm. He needed a lift, and at least Ron had figured he wouldn’t want to ride back to his apartment in the bitch seat. “That wasn’t right. I need to know. Don’t spare my feelings. Enforcers learn to take anything.”

  “It’s not about your feelings. I didn’t think you’d go back to the clubhouse knowing that Bones basically wanted a bounty on your head.”

  “Bones is good at his job. I trusted him with my life in a fight, but he’s not good at seeing the greys of life. If I were me ten years ago, less experienced and green as The Enforcer, I’d be ready to pounce too. I just wanted to know.”

  “Would you have come?”

  “Might have made a B-line for the hospital, but I have no idea where they store shit. I’m more likely to get asked to leave poking around there, than if I had a direct access route.”

  “So, that bitch nurse? Going to find a way to drill her on the twenty questions?” Ron asked, eyebrow arched. “I don’t see you as the type to shove a woman in sensible crocs against a wall and demand property back.”

  Derek laughed. “That’s the part of being in wet works that you and Bones never quite got. It’s not always about the threats, finesse works better most of the time. Say like with that guy today. We need a look out in the north side of town, we have someone loyal with us greasing his wheels and giving him token business. So much easier than threatening him not to give parts and aid to Los Lobos or what’s left of the Death’s Head club. I’m going to wine and dine this nurse and get exactly what I need out of her.”

  “Man, if she’s some old and shriveled Nurse Ratched, then you really are going the extra mile.”

  He shrugged, wanting to keep Tess private, even if she was the key to his freedom and his life. Under better circumstances, he wanted to get close to her because of the spark of her personality and the way she stirred his passion, among other things. Still, this was what he had to do and, in some ways, no matter how he felt, finesse was part of his job, and this became the most important thing he needed to smooth over.

  If he didn’t?

  This time it was his neck on the damn line, and failure was not just unacceptable.

  It was life and death.

  Chapter Ten

  “Lizzy, I think we’re too close,” Tess said, taking a sip of her yerba mate tea before adding an extra dose of honey.

  After a twelve hour shift starting at six a.m., she was going to need all the caffeine she could get in her system. Even if Derek was as hot as walking sex incarnate, she’d had a rigorous day in the E.R. and really needed a catnap for an hour or so before he picked her up at eight. The last thing she needed was a “primer” (Lizzy’s words, not hers) at the eleventh hour at the café across from her apartment.

  Lizzy grinned and sipped her own double mocha frozen monstrosity that was probably filled with more calories than Tess had eaten all day. Some women had all the luck when it came to metabolisms. “Consider me your fairy godmother. After we get some serious caffeine in you, I’m going to get you ready for that man to be drooling all over you.”

  “I’m not hopeless.”

  “Not yet, but you’re on that clear path to a cat-lady lifestyle, and I refuse to let that happen without a fight. Tell her, honey.”

  Ricardo blushed, and it highlighted the apples of his cheeks above his dimples. “Lizzy, don’t be so blunt, baby. It’s fine, Tess. I think you’ll do great. You’re really a nice girl, and there’s no reason to be nervous.”

  She sighed and blew a long blonde bang from out of her face. “That feels like a bigger kiss of death. You ever hear that ‘nice girls finish last’ too?”

  Ricardo sighed, drank his hot cocoa, and munched his biscotti. When he spoke again, he still had crumbs on his chin. “You know that’s not true. Bad girls are great for, hey, never mind! The actual point is that nice girls are who you bring home to mamacita, and everyone knows that.”

&nbs
p; “Damn straight. All mothers are suckers for nurses. We’re caregivers, you know. We take great care of their boys,” Lizzy continued, brushing crumbs from Ricardo’s chin as if to illustrate her point. “Let me do you up right, and this will go great.”

  “Assuming I have anything in common besides, okay, mutual attraction with him. I mean he’s so rebel without a cause, and I’m just not.”

  “Just because he does something risky,” Lizzy continued. “Doesn’t mean that there’s nothing else to him. I mean, every time Ricardo goes out, I’m terrified he won’t come home, but being a badge isn’t all he is. Everyone’s got layers. It’s like the donkey from Shrek says, ‘people are like parfait.’”

  Ricardo shrugged. “I guess the way to think of it is you can take a risk or you can’t.”

  “And it’s not like I’m not scared sometimes too, Tess. I really am. A few days ago, Ricardo was called in with S.W.A.T. They were running low due to some injuries, and he’s done that kind of thing before he got moved to lieutenant. Huge warehouse raid and shoot out. That’s worse than a motorcycle, but no risk then no real romance.”

  Tess flinched at the thought of someone as kind and decent as Ricardo being snuffed out by lowlife criminals. Reaching out across the table, she squeezed each of their hands. “God, you guys didn’t say anything!”

  Lizzy shrugged and offered a forced smile. “It’s too hard this time of year. I didn’t want anything on you when you went home for Jason’s anniversary. I knew you’d be ready to listen when it’s time and, believe me, chica, I’ll be talking your ear off about it in a few days.”

  Tess smiled and squeezed her friend’s hand one more time. Lizzy acted tough, but Tess knew all her tells over the years, and the slightly watery sheen to her eyes told her that Lizzy was more shaken up than even Ricardo probably knew. Deciding to diffuse things a little, she started sipping her tea again and asked, “So what did you guys find out there? We’re Boone, not Charlotte. Teeny ski and college town with a single Burger King. I can’t imagine there’s enough crime to merit a S.W.A.T. run. Okay, I know even we get shootings and stabbings and O.D.’s since that’s life, but really?”

  Ricardo sighed and tapped his fingers on the rim of his mug. “Every place has gangs and drugs. The biggest ones here are the Death’s Head and the Blacktop Sinners motorcycle clubs. They’re both on the outskirts of town, and the Blacktop Sinners are halfway up the mountain, frankly. They’re not exactly the type to get medical help even if they need it. There was a Latino crew too, Los Lobos, but they’ve been decimated by gang war, not as big a deal. What we can tell is the violence over the meth trade between the Sinners and Death’s Head spiked a few days ago, and one of the Death’s Head crew was murdered. We got called in, but the Sinners traded shots with us and ran. Blazed out of there on their bikes like damn bats out of Hell.”

  Tess frowned. “How could I have missed this? Biker gangs?”

  “Again, they keep away from where the hospital is. You all service the tourists who hit a ski bump or a college kid with one too many shots on their twenty-first birthday mostly. But those guys, especially the Sinners? They’re mala suerte, bad news. They’re the ones who single handedly upped the meth addiction in this county to double digit percentages. I got a file an inch thick of lowlifes gone ‘missing’ who I figured just got inconvenient for those bastards.”

  “Huh?” She echoed, beyond shocked; her quiet hamlet had such an underbelly even with the things she saw at the E.R.

  “Gangs…” Lizzy started, and then shrugged. “The point is if you become a problem for them, then you also get to ‘sleep with the fishes.’”

  Ricardo rolled his eyes and finished his biscotti. “No one says that anymore. It’s so Al Capone, but Lizzy’s not wrong. The Blacktop Sinners don’t screw around, so I feel almost bad for Death’s Head. It’s not that they’re not gang members too, just that they won’t know what hit them if Sinners really have gone total war. Let’s put it this way, even with their caution? The motorcycle gangs are going to start flooding your E.R. for once if we’re in turf war mode, guaranteed.”

  “Definitely,” Lizzy said, grabbing her boyfriend in a fierce hug. “Things are getting uglier out there, and we’re all just along for the ride.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Derek didn’t expect Tess to take his breath away when he answered the door. She was gorgeous. That much was obvious to anyone with working eyeballs. However, the last time he’d seen his blondie, she’d been in day old scrubs with raccoon eyes from smeared mascara and tangled hair. A cute bedhead look on her, for sure, but not now. Now? He was trying to remember how he’d kept himself from jumping on her the moment he’d woken up in the E.R.

  She was standing before him in a tight red silk dress that hugged every curve expertly. It was complimented by heels that made her legs look like they ran on for days, a neat trick considering how small Tess actually was. Her hair was piled up in flowing tendrils, and her eyes were made up to smoky perfection. On their best day, none of the old ladies of the club had ever come close to commanding their sensuality the way Tess did just standing in a doorway.

  Frankly, it took a few minutes for Derek to remember how to speak English.

  Or what his name was.

  “Oh…wow…I mean…damn.”

  Tess blushed and the rose glow over her cheeks complimented her look and hazel eyes even more. “You don’t have to pretend.”

  He grinned back at her, his old Grinder confidence seeping back into him, even with the dire nature of his probation looming over him. Yes, this was fact finding mission, but he couldn’t help how he felt about Tess either, and he didn’t want to.

  Reaching out, Derek cupped her cheek and stared deeply into those eyes flecked with gold. “Trust me, blondie…Tess, if I were lying, I wouldn’t try this hard. Hell, I don’t think I’ve worn a real button down shirt since I was still in high school.”

  That was not hyperbole. He’d last worn the whole suit and tie number at his trial before being sentence to juvie. Even as an adult and collecting his first two strikes, he never went as far as to get a real tie. The courts? They got a zip up, but Tess got a real one that he had to beg his elderly neighbor lady across the street to fix for him last minute.

  She eyed him, and he appreciated the way her nostrils flared as she appraised him. “No, you clean up great. I guess when you see someone nurse to patient, neither of us are exactly dressed to the nines.”

  “Nope,” he said, reaching out with his other hand from behind his back and passing her a bouquet of roses.

  It was a bit of a cliché, and nothing he’d ever do for the sweet butt of the club, but Tess wasn’t just anyone auditioning to be an old lady. She was better than that, and some things were standard date protocol for a reason. Namely because they worked.

  Like now, when she broke into a wide, genuine smile and scurried off quickly to shove them in water. Tess was efficient with that as he waited. When she appeared back, she had a black satin jacket clenched in one hand and a beaded purse in the other.

  “So, where can you possibly take me in little old Boone? The sushi place? That one steakhouse by Kroger? Hell, maybe the bowling alley? Problem with getting dressed up is that I never feel like there’s anywhere to go.”

  Derek grinned. “Oh, believe me, I know a place, and it’s very exclusive.”

  “Then lead away.”

  “I’ll be happy to.”

  ***

  Tess didn’t know what to make at first of the set up before her on the mountain side. They’d driven his old Ford up the passes, quite a few miles past the campus and heading straight out towards the tourist attraction peaks of Whistling Rock. They’d not gone all the way to Whistling Rock, of course, because that was a state park and closed at night. Still, this particular crest of mountain was quiet and looked out on the shining collection of stars in the night sky. As she stepped out of the car and made her way to the clearing, Derek was a few paces ahead of her, already setting
out a large, comfy-looking flannel blanket and a picnic basket.

  Quirking her head at him, she walked carefully over the uneven terrain and then sat down, cross-legged, on the blanket. Taking her shoes off, she set those damn heels out of her way and curled her feet even closer under her now that they were free. It was definitely not what she’d been expecting. Hell with a biker type, she wasn’t sure what she expected. Her brother had ridden a bike but also loved fishing with the best of them. Maybe Tess needed to park her preconceptions at the door because the only thing she was certain of was that Derek was unlike any man she’d ever met.

  “What did you bring for us to eat?”

  Grinning wide, his face highlighted by the moonlight, Derek pulled out a plate of sandwiches, a bag of sour cream and onion chips, a small bottle of wine, and two glasses. “I made the sandwiches, myself. Some are PB&J and some are chicken salad, my own recipe, and I promise onion free but heavy on the relish. I can’t cook much, so I apologize it’s not super fancy.”