“Zocco’s got our stuff,” she said. “I’ll pick you up and we can go get it?”
“Sure.”
They went together to meet Zocco at his place, a tiny bungalow in a sketchy neighborhood near the downtown center of Clover City.
“I got you fifty hits,” he told her, eyeing her strangely. “You sure you want that much? It’s gonna cost you a bundle.”
She pulled the money out of her purse and counted it out to Zocco, counting out loud so it would be captured by the recorder in her cell phone hanging off the strap of her purse. “I can sell it,” she assured him. “No problem.”
“Okay.” He handed her over the drugs. Carly had her stash too, smiling happily.
In the car driving home, Carly said, “We should celebrate. How about you and me go out for a drink?”
Sera, nervously watching a police car turn onto a side street in front of them, wanted to get the drugs home. “Okay. But can I go home first? I don’t want to carry all this with me.”
Carly’s smaller purchase was tucked in her purse. “Sure.” She turned and drove toward Sera’s place.
Inside, Sera hid the sugar in the bedroom, knowing she’d have to turn that in soon. Then she and Carly headed to The Patch.
Carly knocked back a few martinis, while Sera paced herself through one, not wanting to get as tipsy as she had with the lemon drops the other day. Then Carly glanced at her watch. “Better go,” she said. “Vince’ll be home for dinner soon.”
Sera swallowed her sigh. Poor Carly. “Maybe I should drive,” she offered, thinking of the alcohol Carly had just consumed.
“But then how will you get home?”
Good question. “I could call Tommy to pick me up.”
So Carly let her drive, thankfully, since Sera was pretty sure her blood alcohol content was way over the legal limit. She just wanted to get Carly home and call Ryan.
As Sera drove, Carly poked around in her purse, pulling out her wallet, her keys and then a makeup bag. She flipped down the visor, applied some lip gloss and fluffed her hair. Then a siren whooped behind them. Sera glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the flashing lights of the Clover City Police Department car. Please, please just let him want to get by me.
But the cop car pulled in behind her, lights still flashing. Shit. Everything inside Sera tensed. She slowed to a careful stop. She’d had one drink so she wasn’t worried about that, but she became suddenly, painfully aware of the drugs in Carly’s purse. She glanced at Carly with the contents of her purse still on her lap. “Put everything away,” she said tersely.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I was speeding.”
She sat, both hands on the steering wheel, and waited for the officer to approach the car. Another office came up to Carly’s window as she tried to stuff her makeup bag back into her purse.
“Afternoon, ma’am.” The officer beside Sera bent to peer into the car. “You the registered owner of this vehicle?”
“My husband is,” Carly said, jamming her wallet into the purse.
“Can I have your registration, please? And your driver’s license,” the officer said to Sera.
She fumbled in her own purse, knowing it was perfectly fine to be nervous when stopped by the cops, but she had extra reason. She handed over the fake driver’s license, praying it would withstand the check this police officer was about to do. They had elected not to let the Clover City Police Department know about the undercover op. The fewer who knew, the better, and there was always a chance the DAs had infiltrated the police. So they were really running a check on her. All she needed was to have her cover blown in Carly’s presence. The officer took both documents back to his car.
Sera glanced at Carly, bit her lip, lifted her shoulders as if to say, “I don’t know.” With Vince being the owner of the vehicle and the cops knowing he was president of the local Angels chapter, they could be in trouble here. The cops could easily want to give them a hard time. Her stomach turned over and tightened, her neck and shoulder throbbed. Her mouth went dry.
When the officer returned, he said, “Did you know you have a burned out taillight?”
Sera looked at Carly, whose eyes widened. “Oh! I forgot about that!”
“Please step out of the car. Both of you.”
They did so, Sera moving carefully.
As Carly stepped out, the officer on her side reached down to pick something up from the ground. When he straightened, he held Carly’s bag of angel sugar.
“This fell off your lap,” he said.
Sera’s heart turned to a stone and sank into her stomach at the sight of the police officer holding up the bag of white powder. Shit, shit, shit. Heat raced over her skin, blood pounded in her ears and throbbed in her temples.
Chapter Fifteen
Ryan arrived at the precinct to pick up Sera, who wasn’t charged with anything, but Vince had to wait longer to bail out Carly. She’d been arrested for possession and Vince was pissed off to the extreme.
“Let’s wait for them,” Sera murmured to Ryan. He looked down at her, feeling pretty damn annoyed himself, but it wasn’t Sera’s fault. He was just relieved Sera’d been released, her newly backstopped identity apparently having checked out okay.
“Why? It could be a while.”
“I’m worried about her.” Sera’s blue eyes were wide and smoky with concern.
“What are you worried about? Were the cops out of line with you?”
She shook her head. “No, they were okay. Kinda of snotty, but okay. It’s Vince. I’m worried about what he’s going to do to her.”
“Ah.” Ryan huffed out a long breath. “Yeah. Okay, but Sera…” He glanced at Vince, across the room talking to an officer. “We can’t do anything.”
She pressed her lips together. “We’ll see.”
Now Ryan was worried about two things—what Vince was going to do to Carly, and what Sera wanted to do to Vince.
When Carly was finally free to go, Ryan and Sera followed her and Vince outside.
“We’ll come to your place,” Sera said, flashing a glance at Ryan. He nodded.
Vince was hot, stomping into the house, slamming the door shut. He turned and yelled at Carly. “You stupid bitch! Why didn’t you get that taillight fixed?”
Ryan and Sera shared a glance.
Carly cowered. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“Isn’t it your car?” Sera asked him.
He scowled at her. “Yeah, it’s registered to me, but it’s Carly’s car. Jesus Christ! How stupid can you be?”
Pale and trembling, Carly pushed a hand through her dark blonde hair.
“Get in the bedroom! Now!”
“Uh, Vince…” Ryan took a step forward. “You wanna cool down maybe.”
“Fuck off and mind your own business,” Vince snapped. He lifted his chin at Sera. “You should be laying a beating on your own woman for getting in trouble like that.”
Sera’s jaw tightened.
“You can’t let them get away with pulling shit like that,” Vince said, striding to the bedroom where Carly had scurried. “You better take care of it, buddy.”
He slammed the bedroom door shut.
Ryan and Sera faced each other. Sera started toward the bedroom.
Ryan put out a hand and snagged her by her slim but muscled upper arm, and he felt the tension in her soft flesh. “Don’t.”
“He’s going to hit her.” Sera tugged away from him. “I have to stop him.”
“You can’t stop him, Sara. You’ll get hurt yourself. And you’ll just piss him off.”
“I can’t just stand here and let him hurt her.” Anguish darkened her eyes even more. “I can’t, Ryan.”
“Tommy.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
“Get a grip, Sara. You have to,” he continued softly, still holding her arm. He brought her around to face him and held her other arm, holding her before him. “You have to. I know it’s
crap. So many times during this whole thing I’ve had to stand by and watch crimes committed.”
“You wouldn’t let that guy in the bar get hurt.”
“He was going to be killed. Vince won’t kill Carly.”
“How do you know?” She lifted her chin. “Domestic abuse gets out of hand. Jesus, husbands murder their wives all the time.”
Ryan’s gut clenched harder. She was right, dammit. He stared at the hall to the bedroom. “Fuck.” It was going to make a helluva messy situation if he tried to interfere with Vince’s punishment of his wife. What were the chances? Vince was a mean sonofabitch, but he didn’t really seem like a guy who would lose control that much. He liked to be in charge, definitely liked to control Carly, but kill her…?
They heard yelling—Vince’s voice—and then the door opened and Vince stomped back into the room. He stopped and stared at Ryan.
Ryan heard Carly crying, so he knew she was alive.
He grabbed hold of Sera’s arms harder and gave her a little shake. Her hair fell across her face and she stared up at him wide-eyed. Go along with me, he instructed her with his eyes, even as he tried to look angry and mean. Then he dragged her over to the couch, pulled her down across his lap and delivered three hard swats to her ass.
She struggled, but he held her down, knowing it wasn’t in her nature to accept anything physical like this, but hoping like hell she’d be smart enough to know he wouldn’t really hurt her.
Her soft wriggling body against his lap wasn’t making him angry, though. It was making him hard. Jesus. Was he some kind of pervert?
Her sweet little ass beneath his hand felt damn good too. He laid his hand there for a moment, until she started to move again, and he gave her another smack. Then he heard something that went straight to his dick and shocked the hell out of him—a moan.
She lay across him, limp and breathing fast, not fighting him anymore. Ryan glanced at Vince, who gave him a thumbs-up and disappeared back down the hall.
He palmed Sera’s butt through her jeans. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I had to do it.”
She lifted her head, her hair a dark curtain across her face. “Fuck you.”
He almost laughed. He should have expected that from her. She rolled off him and scrambled to her feet, tugging her short T-shirt down and shoving her hair back. Her eyes shot sparks at him, electric-blue flashes of anger. She curled her fingers into fists.
Ryan held up his hands. “Hey, don’t kick me across the room again.” He glanced down the hall to make sure Vince wasn’t standing there. “Come on, hon, we gotta keep it up.”
She sucked in a deep breath and her breasts lifted. He couldn’t help but notice her pointy nipples sticking out through the thin cotton T-shirt. Was she really angry? Or hot for him? Did that spanking turn her on as much as it did him? And what did her bra look like today? Oh man.
Oh, she’d be pissed off at that, if his spanking had turned her on. He swallowed a grin. Then more yelling erupted from the bedroom.
They both turned to face it. She looked at him. The look on her face almost had him stumbling to his knees—the agony. The anger. The determination.
“I can’t, Ryan,” she choked out. “I just can’t.” And she started toward the bedroom.
He started to say no, took a step toward her, hand outstretched, but she brushed him aside and strode down the hall. Hell. Fuck. Shit. He followed her.
“Sera. Wait.”
She hesitated and looked over her shoulder.
Ryan sighed. “Let me do this.”
Her forehead creased.
He moved up behind her and nudged her down the hall, then opened the bedroom door and shoved her into the room. Hard.
She made a noise in her throat and started to glare at him. He glared back.
Vince had his hand drawn back and he turned to them, a murderous scowl on his face. “What the fuck?”
“Hey, Vince,” Ryan said. ”Sara wants to apologize.”
She blinked.
“She was driving when they got pulled over. This whole thing is her fault. Right, babe?” He gave her a narrow-eyed look.
She swallowed. “Right.” She looked at Vince. “It’s all my fault.”
“Go away, Sara.” Carly’s voice quivered. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, her lip swollen.
“Come on, Vince. Blame me if you want, I was driving.”
Ryan’s gaze went back and forth between Vince’s black scowl and Sera’s set chin. His hands fisted. Vince could turn on Sera and take his anger out on her, and there was no way he could let that happen. If Vince tried anything with Sera, the entire freakin’ op was done, and they’d be lucky to get out alive. His gut churned. Vince drew back and lowered his hand. Silence expanded around them, marred only by Carly’s sniffles. Ryan waited, adrenaline flashing through him, and he had to restrain himself from stepping into the middle of the fray.
“It’s not your fault,” Vince said. And Ryan’s heart missed a beat. “Fuck, Carly.” Vince turned to her, his fists relaxing. “Jesus, woman, you just piss me off.”
“I know. I’m sorry?”
Sera’s face tightened. She left the bedroom, returned a moment later with a wet cloth and pressed it on Carly’s mouth. “Put some ice on this,” she said in a low voice. Carly nodded.
Sera turned to Ryan. He scowled.
“Meet you at The Patch later?” Vince looked at Ryan.
“Yeah, I’ll meet you there. I’ll take Sara home first.”
“Great.”
“You gonna be okay?” Sera asked Carly before she left.
Carly nodded, holding the cloth to her mouth. “Yeah. I think so.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow. To see how you are.”
“Let’s go.” Ryan gripped Sera’s arm and hauled her out of the room, all pissed off and alpha.
But in his truck he let out a long, slow breath. As they drove home in silence, his brain got all backed up with thoughts of her trying to take on Vince, standing up to him. Her courage, her conviction, her…craziness. She could have gotten in serious trouble there. Hell.
Back at the house, he turned to her, intending give her shit for getting involved in Carly and Vince’s domestic dispute, but the sight of her face halted the words. Shadowed eyes stared back at him from a pale face. “Are you okay?” he asked instead, taking a step toward her, feeling a clutch of concern.
She shook her head with a tiny movement. “Just a little headache,” she said, putting a hand to her brow. “I just need some Tylenol and some sleep.”
The look of pain on her face alarmed him, but not as much as the fact that she wasn’t ready to fight with him and defend herself against what she had to know was coming. He strode over to her and bent to slip an arm beneath her knees and pick her up.
“Hey,” she protested weakly. “Put me down.”
“I’m just helping you,” he said, starting toward the bedroom.
“I don’t need help.”
“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “I know you don’t need help.”
He laid her gently on the bed, smoothed her hair back off her forehead. She felt cool and clammy. She closed her eyes, not protesting anymore. “I’ll get you some Tylenol,” he said.
He found the bottle in a cupboard in the kitchen, shook two tablets into his hand and ran a glass of water. When he returned to the bedroom, she lay exactly how he’d left her, still fully dressed, eyes closed, cheeks pallid. “Here you go.”
She pushed herself up on one elbow and took the tablets from him with the other hand, then the water. Unfamiliar tenderness stirred inside him. “You get these headaches often?” he asked.
“No. Not often.” She lowered herself back to the pillow and closed her eyes again. He stood there, wishing he could fix whatever was hurting her, hating to see her like that. Hell, just a few minutes ago she’d been all strong and protective, determined to help Carly, and now here she was, laid out because of a damn headache.
He swipe
d a hand across his brow, feeling helpless. He had no choice but to leave her alone to sleep even if he wanted to give her shit for being so goddamn foolhardy. Maybe it was good that he couldn’t jump all over her, though. In more ways than one. The memory of her stretched out across his lap, her sweet ass beneath his hands, still heated his blood.
He was supposed to go meet Vince at The Patch, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Sera like that. He sat in the dark living room, only the light of the television casting a flickering glow in the room, no volume on in case the sound disturbed her.
This wasn’t the first time things like that had happened while he’d been in his undercover role, as he’d told Sera. How many laws had he seen broken, while he stood by and allowed it for the sake of the operation? How many people had been hurt? The Death Angels could be brutally violent. He’d seen a few things worthy of assault charges, including Vince’s behavior tonight, and he hated it.
But Sera hadn’t stood by. She’d stepped up.
He checked on her a couple of times, standing and looking down at her beautiful face surrounded by dark hair spread on the pillow around her. With creamy alabaster skin, closed eyes, long lashes feathery crescents on her cheeks, she looked incredibly, perfectly beautiful—angelic, even. He resisted the urge to touch a fingertip to a smooth cheek, or to push aside a lock of silky hair. Her breasts rose and fell slightly as she breathed. Something ached inside him as he watched her.
Was she going to sleep until morning? Maybe he should have helped her undress so she’d be more comfortable. He debated trying to get her out of her jeans at least, the idea making him hard and uncomfortable. With a sigh, he left her again.
But an hour later, she emerged from the bedroom, shoving her hair back and yawning. “Hey,” she said, standing in the arched entry to the living room. “What time is it?”
“Ten thirty.”
“Oh.”
“Feeling better?”
“Yeah. My head’s better.” She avoided his gaze.
“Do you get migraines?”
“Yes. Sort of.” She studied the floor.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
She sighed, standing there, shoulders hunched. Then she straightened and looked him squarely in the eye. “I know. I just hate being weak like that.”
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