He gripped my chin before he tilted my eyes up to his. The shadows on his face danced as I took in his severe green eyes and his beautiful brown hair. I wanted to strip him down and sit on that face of his. Ride his lips and feel that stubble against my wet pussy lips. His hand moved to cup my cheek. His thumb brushed my skin while his eyes danced between mine.
“Why are you telling me any of this?” Stone asked.
I shrugged. “Because I care about you, you idiot.”
He snickered softly and I smiled. I couldn't explain it, but I felt a connection with him. And with the kiss he had just graced me with, I knew he felt the same. We were consistently drawn to one another. Hooked on one another, even if we couldn't figure out why. He grinned down at me before he backed away, then he leaned against the wall opposite me and sighed.
“I know you have no reason to believe me, but I’m telling you the truth. I won’t hand over the pictures of the documents I took because that would cross a line I’d never be able to come back from. Not really. Especially since that man is my father. But I can’t help but feel that my father is targeting you guys out of a prejudice instead of founded evidence,” I said.
Stone snickered. “What gave you that idea?”
“My mother,” I said softly.
His eyes rose to meet mine and I watched them soften.
“What about your mother?” he asked.
“She, uh… she died. Well, my father’s been telling me she died. I’m not quite sure that’s the case, but that’s a different story for a different day.”
“What do you mean, you think she—”
“Different day, Stone,” I said curtly.
He gritted his teeth together and I grinned.
“Not so fun being in the dark, is it?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Not used to it, no.”
“What my father’s been telling me my entire life is that my mother died because of a collision with a drunk motorist. Some pompous motorcycle douche that ran straight into her car and T-boned her, killing her instantly. I have reason to believe that something is wrong with that story, but the foundation of prejudice is still the same. I think my father is targeting motorcycle crews with a deep prejudice against them because of whatever happened with my mother. Death or something else.”
“So, you think your father is…?”
I sighed. “Bending the rules to get what he wants, essentially.”
I went to go move toward him, but his phone rang out in his pocket. I paused and fell back against the wall as Stone ripped his phone out of his jeans. He took the call and held his finger up to me, then made his way back into the living room. And of course, I was all ears, trying to figure out what was going on with the phone call.
“Yep. Uh huh. Look, I told you I had to go out and do something. No, no, tell the guys to stay there. No one moves until I get back and talk to everyone. Why?” Stone asked.
He looked back at me and I froze. I held my breath, wondering what he was going to say.
“I have reason to believe tonight might be compromised,” he said.
I released the breath I was holding while he finished up his conversation. He hung up the phone after addressing the person as Texas. One of the guys. Vice President, if I was remembering the paperwork correctly. Stone shoved his phone back into his pocket and turned to me, his body a little more relaxed than when he first barged in.
“I have to go. But we will talk later. You have my word on that,” he said.
“Be safe, Stone.”
“I will.”’
Before I could catch myself, I strode for him. I leapt into his arms, wrapping my legs and arms around him. My lips fell against his in a kiss that prickled the back of my neck. He held me closely, fisting my ass cheeks and holding me there for him to feel. I slipped my tongue against his. I raked it along the roof of his mouth. I pulled a growl from him as I slid my teeth along his lower lip, breaking the kiss with a pop.
“Please, be safe,” I whispered.
He set me down onto my feet before he kissed my cheek.
“You have my word,” he murmured.
23
Stone
As I sped my way back to the lodge, my mind swirled. I had no idea what the fuck to believe. It would have been easy to believe Hayley had she just forked over the documents she said she took pictures of. For all I know, she was an expert bluff. Like her damn father. I bit down onto my lower lip, continuing to taste her as I raced back to the lodge. I mean, I felt something for Hayley. Something strong. Something I’d never experienced before. But could I trust her?
Even with who her father was?
“Why didn’t you just show me the damn pictures?” I murmured to myself.
I pulled up to the lodge and the guys were standing there. Waiting for me. I saw them all on edge. Which meant Texas had told them about the damn phone call. I parked my bike and jumped up the steps. I ushered my men back inside. I closed the door and locked it, then went around and pulled all the blinds to the windows.
“Is it true?” Bronx asked.
“Are we compromised?” Notch asked.
“Thanks,” I said flatly, looking to Texas.
He shrugged it off, though. Like he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Look, whether tonight has been compromised or not, we can’t afford not to do it. I’d rather take my chance with the San Diego police than with a bunch of pissed off Chinese guys,” I said.
“Who’s your source?” Bronx asked.
“Not something I’m sure I can trust,” I said.
“Did they have any evidence that we’d been compromised?” Notch asked.
“Supposedly. I couldn’t get them to show me the proof,” I said.
“But they know about the operation tonight,” Texas said.
“Nope. Only that they assumed something was going down tonight,” I said.
The guys didn’t look convinced, though.
“We’re going to stick to the schedule as planned. Everyone just needs to be on high alert. If you see anything fishy—anything at all—you bail and get to the safehouse on the other side of the city. Whatever comes of it, we can defend ourselves from that outpost. Got it?” I asked.
All of my men nodded before I took a look at the clock.
“We’ve got an hour to prepare ourselves before we need to head out. Get your heads screwed on straight, do whatever you have to do to clear your minds, and prepare for a busy night,” I said.
We all dispersed and I made a pot of coffee. I needed caffeine to make sure I was alert for the night. The hour passed much quicker than I would have liked, and I still wasn’t sure I’d made the right decision to tell the guys what was going on. But letting them know there was a possibility we might be compromised would ensure them looking out for anything and everything. A car that was out of place. A shadow that kept moving too much. Anything that could denote we were walking into trouble.
Then, it was time to disperse.
I hung back for the nine fifteen shipment. And when they arrived, I quickly began unloading. I got the wooden cases of guns into the shed and walked them down the stairs. The shed was nothing but a defense mechanism. It hid the actual storage facility and emergency bunker I had built underneath the damn thing. I heard Texas pull up with the second shipment thirty minutes later, and between the two of us we had shit unloaded and locked away within the hour.
“Ready to go check on Bronx and Notch?” I asked.
“You want me coming along?” Texas asked.
“I want you heading for our storage locker. I want you to check it out before we even get there with the guns. I’ll go to the guys and help with transport. But if you see anything fishy—”
“I’ll call you. Right.”
We went our separate ways and I headed for the dock where Notch and Bronx were waiting. I followed behind them on my bike, on the lookout for anything that looked suspicious. I diverted them down a few back roads just to avoid some police posts I
knew were common in the area. Which added time to our trip, but I didn’t mind. If it kept us out of eyesight of the police stations, I wouldn’t lose sleep over the added minutes.
Then, we arrived at the storage locker.
“Ready to unload?” Notch asked.
“How did things go on your end, guys?” Bronx asked.
“We’re good on our end. And I haven’t found anything fishy around here,” Texas said.
“Want to start unloading, then?” Notch asked.
I shook my head. “We wait for Harry and his guys. They’ll help us unload.”
There was something in my gut I didn’t like about all this. About this new gang they were selling guns to. It was a last-minute deviation from a plan thrust onto us last-minute. After we had come to an agreement. My mind rushed with all sorts of things that had changed. Harry in our meeting with the guys and their guns. Harry barging into the lodge unannounced. Him threatening me in order to get my crew into this new shipment of guns in the first place.
“We should have checked him for a wire,” I murmured.
“What was that?” Texas asked.
“I think Cheng’s working with the police,” I said.
“Say what now?” Bronx asked.
“Just shut up and do exactly as I say. All right?” I asked.
I hopped into the truck and drove it off into a corner parking space. Away from our rented storage locker. I shuffled the guys around the corner into the shadows and rolled our bikes into the woods. The shadows would conceal us from the end of the row of lockers into the woods, where we could get on our bikes and get the fuck out of dodge.
“Stone, what's going—”
I put my finger to my lips, shushing Notch as a car came up the road.
I saw a vehicle I recognized. Harry Cheng and his blacked-out town car. We all peered around the corner as he got out, but instead of looking around for us? He looked out toward the road. We all watched as an unmarked sedan pulled up. It drove up beside Harry’s car. And when the door opened, I watched as proof of Hayley’s theory slipped out.
Fucking Detective Woolf get out of that damn vehicle.
“Shit,” I hissed.
“We have to get to our bikes,” Texas whispered.
“You guys used gloves, right?” I asked.
“Like always,” Notch said softly.
“Let me get some pictures,” Bronx said.
He pulled out his phone and got pictures of Harry and the detective talking. Smiling. Shaking one another’s hand. It looked like they were discussing some sort of plan before Harry’s eyes fell onto the truck. I watched his face fall. His head started whipping around, like he was looking for something. Or someone.
Or some people.
“You got them?” I asked.
“Yep, and videos,” Bronx said.
“Come on, then. Let’s get out of here,” I said.
Just as we made it into the woods, my phone started vibrating. We all swung our legs over our bikes and walked them quickly out the other end of the woods. I pulled my phone out and saw Harry called. Over, and over, and over again. Leaving voicemail after voicemail and blowing up my text messages.
“Should we answer that?” Bronx asked.
We sat on the curb of the road, about five hundred yards away from the storage unit. I pulled up my voice mailbox and began playing through Harry’s messages. I had them on speakerphone as the guys gathered around me, eager to hear what our betrayer had to say to us.
But it was the last voice message that made me both irate and worried.
“Stone, it’s Cheng. I don’t know where the fuck you guys are or where the hell my guns are, but if I’m staring at the truck you guys used, then you guys are going to pay for this. If they’re locked in that truck and I can’t get to them? If you’ve bailed on me and aren’t here to open this storage locker you agreed to let us use? You’re done for. My men will come after you with all we’ve got. And we won’t stop until you’re all slaughtered.”
I looked around at my guys and saw them puffing their cheeks out.
“Ready to get out of here now?” I asked.
“I think we should head to our safehouse anyway,” Texas said.
“And I think that’s a brilliant idea. Come on. I’ll stop and get us food along the way,” I said.
Then, we all struck up our bikes and rode off into the distance. Leaving the detective, Cheng, and all those fuckin’ guns behind. If they wanted to come after us, we’d be ready. In a fortified bunker Texas funded of his own volition so we’d have a place to camp out if shit like this ever happened. We had an arsenal of weapons. A cache of ammunition. Grenades. Flash bangers. Stink bombs. Bullet-proof vests. Other clothes that fit us and camouflaged us with the night. The works.
But that meant we’d have to lay low.
I should have trusted Hayley. Fuckin’ hell, I should have listened.
And if she could ever forgive me, I’d never make that mistake again.
I’d never question her loyalty—or her feelings—to me again.
24
Hayley
My worry for Stone was through the roof. I kept looking at the clock. Looking at my phone. Looking at the clock again. I kept my eyes outside and my ears pointed toward the road, hoping I’d hear a bike. Hoping Stone would come let me know he was okay himself. Or at the very least, call.
But there was nothing.
Nine rolled around. Then, ten. And as it pushed eleven, my mind began to swirl with all sorts of things. Had Stone taken my advice? Were the guys okay? Had my father apprehended them in whatever set up he had going on? For some reason, my father had immersed himself in the idea of taking down this club. And while I couldn't blame him for the reasons, I wondered where his real motivation was coming from. There was plenty that didn’t add up, and I knew when my father became obsessed, he bent the rules. Skewed things to fit his motive until he could find hard evidence of something else going on.
I didn’t understand why my father was like that. Or why he had dedicated his career to undercover work and infiltrating motorcycle crews.
Granted, my father did more than that. He did regular detective work as well. But it seemed as if his growing focus was gangs. Hell, he had traveled out of the state three times to places like New Mexico and Arizona because his reputation for taking down crews like Stone’s was growing within the departments. Rumors circulated about his reputation. I wasn’t an idiot. I wasn't blind to what my father did.
I was blind to why he did it, though.
I didn’t understand anything. Why my father was really doing this. Why Stone was wrapped up in all this bad shit. But I trusted him. More than my own father, actually. Which felt weird. I had always trusted my father. But these past couple of years raised a lot of questions about him. Questions I found no answers to in his office.
Despite the answers that should have been there.
I sat down on the couch around midnight and sighed. My legs hurt from pacing. My head hurt from thinking. It was dark outside, and all I could see were the stars on the horizon. The few stars the skyline of San Diego afforded me in the dead of night. What would happen if my father found out I tipped Stone and his guys off? What would happen to me if he found out I was involved with Stone?
Would I be arrested? Aiding and abetting? Would I go to jail, just like them?
You crossed a line, Hayley.
It was true. I crossed a line I couldn't come back from. Despite the fact that I didn’t hand over the pictures I took, I still tipped off men who were seen as criminals. I had officially taken a side, whether I understood that at the time or not. My father would see it no other way. He’d see it as me taking their side instead of his. Seeing things their way instead of his.
“Guess we’ll cross that bridge if, and when, he finds out,” I murmured to myself.
I pulled out my phone and checked for any phone calls. None from Stone, and none from my father. I pulled up a message to Stone and typed it up qui
ckly, telling him to let me know when he was safe. If he was safe. I hovered my finger over the green button to send, knowing damn good and well this could come back to haunt me if they had been caught. If Stone’s phone was in evidence, eventually they would find my text to him. Our phone calls. All of this would come back on me, and all because of my own actions.
“You’re already in deep,” I said.
I sent off the text, then pulled my laptop onto my thighs. I needed to pass the time somehow so my heart rate would settle down. I pulled up the internet search and decided to do a little pop culture investigating. I typed in “Lost Boys MC” into the search bar and started opening tabs. There wasn’t much, to be honest. No matter the variation I typed, I only got two or three tabs out of the searches. Most of them conspiracy blogs. A couple of them, local newspapers.
And all of my tabs only had good things to say about the crew.
Local MC Rallies Around Soldier’s Funeral, Wards Off Protestors.
Lost Boys MC Gun Down Senator’s Almost-Killer.
Local MC Holds Charity Event At Bar, Benefits Children With Cancer.
Everything I read was wonderful. I took in stories about the crew helping people in the neighborhood and donating to charities in all corners of the city. I read about how they took down our Senator’s almost-assassin three years ago when he came into town to give a massive election speech. Story after story about the crew helping with funeral protestors and keeping the people of San Diego safe.
Why would my father go after a crew that apparently did wonderful work for the community?
I closed out all the tabs and pulled up a clean search history. I erased all the cookies and data. Anything that could clog up what I was about to type in. Then, after drawing in a deep breath, I typed it in.
Rose Woolf, obituary.
If my father didn’t have this information in his office, I knew I’d be able to find it in public records. But my original search didn’t turn up anything. I pulled up the online public records for obituaries in the area, then typed in my mother’s name. And still, nothing.
The Lost Boys MC Series: Books 1-4 Page 29