“Heard about your big plans with Zocco,” Vince told him.
Ryan nodded. Caution tightened his muscles. “Yeah.”
“You’re getting into the drug business.”
“Sera is.” He lifted a shoulder, smirked at Vince. “I’m just helping her out.”
Vince nodded. “Yeah. Well. Zocco says there’s a lot of money it. She really have that kind of connections?”
Ryan paused as if thinking it over. “Yeah. I think she does. I wouldn’t be putting up that kind of cash if I didn’t think she could do it.”
Vince nodded again, staring at his beer. “Well. You know. You’ve been hanging around with us a while now. You’ve done some good business for me. And now this.” He lifted his eyes and met Ryan’s gaze. “We want you to consider patching in with us.”
Holy shit! Ryan wasn’t sure he’d heard right.
He stared at Vince, who grinned.
“Really?”
“Yeah. You’d be a good DA. We need guys like you. You’ve got what it takes. You’re loyal. Tough. Smart.”
He still didn’t know what to say. On a certain level, Vince’s words pleased him, but Christ. He was not a biker.
Vince frowned. “What’s wrong? Jesus, man, we don’t make offers like that every day.”
“No. I know. I just…you surprised the shit outta me, man.” He grinned back at Vince. What the hell? What should he say? What should he do?
This was one of those classic fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants undercover moments, where something totally out of the blue sent him reeling. He had to recover, regroup, buy time somehow. “That’d be great,” he said. “Thanks, buddy.” He lifted his beer and they clinked bottles together, his mind racing. Jesus Christ! Why now? Why couldn’t this have happened weeks ago? As a full patch member he’d have access to all kinds of stuff he didn’t now, things that would guarantee RICO convictions. Shit.
It was an unbelievable opportunity. Only a couple of agents had ever actually patched in with an OMG and he could be one of them. He could nail the whole DA chapter here in Clover City and probably others too. But it would take time. He’d have to become a prospect and go through “biker probation” which would take months. And worst of all, they’d likely expect him to kill someone. How would he get around that?
He didn’t know if he had it in him. Months of doing this was taking its toll on him. So close. So fucking close he could taste it. Could he do this?
Zocco called the next week and told them Dominick was willing to meet them to discuss the deal when he was in Clover City. They’d meet at The Patch Wednesday night. They knew if they didn’t convince Dominick of their ability, not to mention their sincerity and veracity, this would be their last chance to get to the lab. All was riding on this meeting. They had to be ready and their game had to be perfect.
Sera was ready. She looked at herself in the mirror, inspected her hair, the heavy eye makeup, the red lips. She didn’t look like herself and sometimes she didn’t even feel like herself anymore. Ryan was right. Working undercover was dangerous, for more reasons than just the obvious. You could lose yourself in the role, as he’d said, go so deep you couldn’t come out. She pressed her lips together and walked out of the bedroom.
Ryan waited in the living room, jingling the keys to his Harley. “Ready?” His hot gaze surveyed her from head to the toes of her boots.
“Are we taking the Harley?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“Sera.”
“What?”
He walked toward her and she took a step back at the intensity in his eyes. Since the night she’d stitched him up, he’d acted differently toward her. He treated her as an equal. A partner. The fact that he didn’t boss her around, didn’t question everything she said and did, made that tiny flame inside her burn brighter. The fact that he trusted her, believed in her, made her feel warm inside. And she knew that was the most dangerous thing of all.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you’re afraid of motorcycles?”
“What?” She gave a little laugh and tossed her hair back. “I’m not afraid of motorcycles.”
“Yes. You are.”
Shit. How’d he figure that out? She’d thought she hid it pretty well.
He moved his head side to side, a smile tugging at his lips. “If you can make friends with Bingo, and you can brave the sight of blood long enough to stitch me up, a motorcycle shouldn’t scare you.”
She looked at him from beneath her lashes. Sure, he was right. But… “Fears aren’t rational, Ryan. I know that. But you know how some people can’t go on the Viper at Six Flags?”
He nodded.
“They know it’s safe. They know they won’t get hurt. But they can’t do it. Because they’re afraid.”
He nodded. They stood there, looking at each other, an invisible spiral of emotion wrapping around both of them.
“Want to take the truck?”
She inhaled deeply. “No. I’m gonna do it.”
“You,” he said, walking over to her and kissing her forehead, “amaze me. Let’s go.”
She wanted to throw her arms around his neck, hold on and never let go.
At The Patch, they greeted the people they knew there, acted like the couple they were as they strolled through the bar, ordered drinks, then sat on stools and waited for Zocco and Dominick to make an appearance. Much as Sera thought the alcohol might help ease her jangling nerves, she had a hard time swallowing the icy liquid. Ryan’s arm sliding around her waist and pulling her in for a hug was more what she needed. She sent him a quick smile.
She spotted Carly and Vince walk in. Well, that was okay. Then she noticed the look on Carly’s face. Like she’d been crying. Oh damn. Had Vince done something again?
She tightened up and sat a bit straighter, pushed her elbow into Ryan’s side and jerked her head toward the couple who hadn’t spotted them yet. Ryan nodded slowly. Then Carly looked up and saw Sera. Her eyes widened and she immediately rushed forward, pushing her way through the crowd around the bar.
“Sara!” she cried as she closed in on them. “Oh, Sara. Something awful’s happened.”
“What?” Sera put out a hand and Carly grabbed it tightly. What could it be?
“It’s Jessie.”
“Jessie?” She stared at Carly. “What about Jessie?”
“She’s dead.”
Sera froze. Blinked. What? “What…how? What happened?” She swallowed tightly, staring at Carly in disbelief.
“She took some sugar. Too much sugar. She’s been…” She swallowed. “She’s been trying to lose weight. Especially since Chomp called her fat ass. I think she accidentally took too much.” Her wide eyes gleamed with tears.
“Oh dear god,” Sera breathed. She dropped her bottle onto the bar and took both of Carly’s hands in hers. She knew hers were cold from holding the beer, but Carly’s felt even icier. Their fingers wrapped around each others’. “When did that happen?”
“Just a little while ago.”
Sera just stared at her, then lifted her eyes to Vince walking up behind Carly. He, too, looked like someone had just laid a beating on him, eyes dazed.
“I can’t believe it,” Sera said. She glanced at Ryan. His face was hard, but he put a hand on Carly’s shoulder and squeezed.
That fucking drug! Curses ran through her mind. Goddammit! Where the hell was Zocco? This was all his fucking fault!
She glanced wildly around the room, but didn’t see him. Which was good. She needed to take a breath. She couldn’t react that way.
Trembling inside, every muscle tight with restraint, she tried to maintain her composure and act like everyone expected her to act—grief-stricken, sad, shocked—not ready to murder the man who’d sold Jessie those drugs.
Sera kept a tight leash on the rage bubbling inside her, reminding herself Jessie was not the first person to die from the drug, nor would she be the last. But if Sera could do anything—anything—to save even one more
life, she would do whatever it took.
And right now, it took convincing Dominick Casas that she was who she said she was, that she could do what she said she could. That he could trust her.
But Casas apparently wasn’t a trusting individual.
He arrived a short time later and made his way to a back room without stopping to talk to anyone. When she and Ryan entered, Casas sat at a small table, alone. This was the room where she’d made her first buy from Zocco, months ago now. She tossed her head and met his eyes straight on, stood there and waited for him to invite them to sit, the music of AC/DC pounding distantly.
“See if they’re wearing a wire,” Dominick said to a man standing at the door. Sera turned. The man was huge, as bald as Manny but much meaner looking, with ink-sleeved arms and a bulging gut that might have meant he was out of shape—except his equally bulging biceps displayed some impressive muscle power.
Shit. She did not want to be searched. She frowned, watched as the guy pushed Ryan to his knees, patted him down, everywhere. He found nothing, as she knew he wouldn’t. Then he walked over to her, stood in front of her and looked down at her. His dark, slitted eyes gave her the creeps, but she stood her ground. Just let him try anything. Except she had to be careful.
The guy started frisking her, up and down, checked under her shirt. Ryan made a noise and a move toward her, but she sent him a warning glare. Her skin crawled and itched as she endured the search. With a final pat on her ass that totally wasn’t necessary, the guy stepped away.
“They’re clean.”
“Have a seat.” Dominick nodded to the chairs at the table. Sera and Ryan joined Zocco and Dominick. “So. Zee here tells me two think you can become big-time drug dealers. With sugar.”
Sera nodded. “Yes.”
He nodded too, slowly, tapping a package of cigarettes on the table. “You’ve been selling a lot of the shit lately.”
“Yeah. It’s good stuff. I have lots of contacts in L.A. They all like how it helps them drop a few pounds.”
“Yeah. It does.” He smiled, if you could call the curve of his lips a smile. It held malicious evil and cunning. “You know lots of people in L.A.?”
“Yeah. I grew up there.”
“Where you getting the cash for this deal?”
Ryan spoke up. He crossed one leg over the other. “I’m not going to give you details. I have business connections. From my other business.”
“Uh-huh. You were charged with possession a few times in the past.”
He’d checked their records. Sera kept her face calm. That was to be expected. That’s why the ATF and DEA had done the full backstop on them.
“Yeah.” Ryan smiled. “Possession, but I never got nailed for trafficking.”
“Good man.” He tipped his head to the side. “How do I know you’re not cops?”
Sera laughed. “Obviously you checked us out, if you know Tommy’s arrest record. Clearly, we’re not cops.”
“Anyone can be a cop. I want you to do a line.”
Sera froze inside, resisted the impulse to send a panicked glance at Ryan. Fuck!
Casas nodded to the big bruiser at the door.
She held his gaze. “Sure.”
Bald bruiser guy walked over and laid out a line of sugar, pulled a bill out of his pocket and handed it to her. Mind racing, thoughts spinning uselessly through her head, adrenaline singing through her veins, Sera rolled it up.
She looked at the line on the table, all neat and powdery white. She could not do drugs. Federal agents could not do drugs. Not only that—since her overdose she hadn’t touched anything more than Tylenol and swore she never would again.
She stared at the sugar.
If she didn’t do this…they’d never get another chance. In fact, if she didn’t do this, their whole operation was at risk. She couldn’t do that to Ryan. Or Manny. Or everyone who’d worked so long and so hard on this case.
Jessie’s image floated through her mind.
She felt Ryan’s eyes on her, burning into her. Now she did risk a glance at him, and his steady gaze calmed her. Just a bit.
She could do it. They might fire her, but maybe not until after it was all done. She swallowed and leaned forward.
“That the stuff you cook in the lab in Oakland?” Ryan asked casually. Flicking her eyes up to Dominick, she saw him jerk his head toward Ryan, frowning. And she quickly bent down, inhaled through the tube— beside the line of sugar, sweeping the powder to the floor with her other hand in a gesture that took a fraction of a second.
Her body was between the bald bruiser and the table so he didn’t see. She only prayed Zocco hadn’t been looking right at her too. She sniffed, rubbed her nose, dropped the bill to the table and covered the sprinkle of white on the floor with her foot. She glanced at Dominick, who was nodding, then at Zocco, her gut so tight she thought she might puke. But he was watching Dominick.
Casually, carefully, she scrubbed the sole of her boot back and forth along the floor, under her chair, sideways, spreading the powder around on the pale, scarred wood floor.
Had Ryan seen what she did? Or did he think she’d snorted the sugar? Their eyes met and held, his burning hot and dark.
Damn, what had she done?
Ryan stared at her intensely. Then, insides churning ferociously, he turned back to Dominick. Damn, he needed some antacids.
“I can supply all the sugar you need,” Dominick said.
Ryan smiled again. “We know you’re the biggest dealer around. That’s why we want to do business with you.”
Dominick’s face cleared at that flattery.
“So where do you get your supply?” Ryan asked
Dominick leaned back in his chair, turning the package of cigarettes between his fingers, a smile twisting his thin lips. “I have a good source.”
“Yeah. Well, we want to know who it is. Just to make sure.”
Dominick leaned forward, eyes alight. “I have a lab. Buncha guys that cook the stuff for me. You got no worries about me being able to supply you. We can make as much as you need. More,” he bragged.
Ryan tamped down the triumph that shot through him, resisted the urge to meet Sera’s eyes.
“We want to know if it’s big enough for us,” Ryan said. “Unless we’re satisfied, no deal.”
“I told you how big this is,” Zocco said eagerly.
Dominick nodded, and Ryan could see the greed in his eyes as he weighed things in his mind.
“We want to see the lab.”
Dominick looked at him, the corners of his mouth pushed down, eyes narrowed. “It’s in Oakland.”
“We’ll come there.”
Again a long pause as he thought about it. “Okay. I’ll let you know when.”
Relief permeated Ryan’s body but he kept his face tight. “Great.”
They walked out, Ryan with one hand on the small of Sera’s back. He shot an evil glare at the asshole standing by the door who’d dared to feel Sera up under her shirt. It had taken every particle of his willpower to keep from grabbing the guy by the throat.
“That was good,” Zocco said behind them. “Now we gotta find Chomp and see how he’s doing.”
Jesus Christ. Did the man not make any connections whatsoever to the fact that he’d sold Jessie the fucking drugs that had just killed her? Ryan’s hands now itched to reach for Zocco himself and wring his goddamn neck. He gritted his teeth.
“Let us know if there’s anything we can do,” Sera told Zocco. “We’re gonna head home.”
Thank Christ. The adrenaline rush was subsiding and taking all his energy with it. He felt like he could sag into a heap on the floor at that moment. But he kept his head high, shoulders straight as he and Sera left the bar and climbed onto his Harley.
The speed felt good. He revved the motor, accelerated full throttle out of the parking lot, Sera’s hands clutching on to him. He roared down the dark street. He’d head out of town, where he could go even faster. Making a left on Sage D
rive, he roared faster, wind whipping past him. Sera’s arms tightened on him as he took the exit onto Interstate 40 at a dangerous angle.
Josh was no doubt following behind him wondering what the fuck he was doing, but he didn’t care. He was so wound up, so furious, so fucking up to his eyeballs in this shit, he needed the speed, and he went full throttle on the highway, passing cars.
Sera’s hands dug into him and he heard her yelling into his ear. “Ryan! Slow down! Please!”
“You scared, baby?” he shouted back, not even sure if she could hear him.
She thumped him on the back with one hand, the other digging into him so tightly she was going to draw blood. “The cops are going to pull you over! Slow down! Don’t be an idiot!”
Sober, sane responsibility returned to him, and he eased off the throttle. Dropping his speed to the speed limit, he watched for the next exit so he could turn around and take them back to the city.
Sera’s arms remained snugly around him, but she said nothing more until they were back in the driveway at the house. She slid off and removed her lid, shook out her long hair, then staggered a little. Ryan frowned.
She grabbed hold of the fence as if to support herself and he took in the pale face and trembling hands as she tucked her helmet under one arm, and cocked a hip.
“Feel better now?” she asked.
He met her eyes. Fuck. He’d scared the shit out of her. She was shaking so hard she could barely stand, but still she stood there all defiant and cocky.
He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. He’d fucking forgotten she was afraid of motorcycles. Ah shit. He wanted to disappear into the concrete driveway beneath his feet. He slowly opened his eyes.
She should’ve been pissed off that he’d do something so irresponsible. But she studied him with eyes that gleamed with understanding. His chest got tight as he stood there in an eye-lock with her.
“Not really.”
She blew out a long breath. “I know. Come on. Let’s go in.”
A car pulled up on the street at the end of the driveway and they both turned. What now?
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