by Sophia Gray
“All right, beautiful. Let’s see what’s going on here.”
According to the diagnostics and the tinkering his uncle had done near closing, the Dodge was overheating for no reason at all. Not a good thing. A pretty car like this needed good, honest tending. He wondered who owned it, and if they’d be willing to sell. He had a decent amount of money tucked away.
Would Cora like it, Finn wondered. She loved fast cars, things that were sleek and shiny. Did they have to be new? Would she appreciate the soft lines and detail work that went into a classic beauty like this? He thought she would. He could already see her, sitting back in the driver’s seat with her hand on the stick shift, that mane of autumn colored hair flying around her face as she flew down the interstate.
“What the hell has put that stupid look on your face?”
Finn nearly thwacked his head on the hood of the car when the boss’s voice reverberated a few inches from his ear. For all the man was big as life he moved like a cat. Finn cursed and nearly threw a tool at the other man.
“Can’t you see I’m doing very precious work?”
Jace “The Boss” Robinson had a wide grin and a nose that had been broken at least twice. There was a small scar that ran through his left brow and made him look dangerous. In Finn’s opinion that scar was a warning, and lo to any and all who ignored it. His leather jacket was fringed down the sleeves and marked with a simple black square across the right breast with white capital letters that read “PRESIDENT.”
“Yeah, I can see that, but we got business.”
Finn raised his brow. “We do?”
“Yeah, we do.” The tone was so cold and sure of itself that Finn couldn’t help but think of Cora. Still, getting bitched at by a pretty redhead in a business suit was a little better than getting the voice of the ice king from the boss.
“All right.” Finn took a moment to close the hood of the Dodge. He wondered what had put that angry look into Robinson’s eyes, and why it was focused on him. Was it the fact that he hadn’t been at the pool hall as much lately? It wasn’t unusual for Finn to spend more time at his shop or at home than with the club. He was just a lieutenant, an enforcer, not second-in-command and not even third. Yeah, things had been left in his hands while the other guys had been gone, but that had been a cakewalk. He tossed his cleaning rag over one shoulder and leaned against one of the pillars that separated one work bay from the next. “What’s up?”
Jace crossed his arms over his chest. It made the tattoos on his bare forearms dance with the shift in hard wrought muscle. Finn had wondered once whether or not the boss had ever been one of those lifting champion guys. Not the pretty body on the front of muscle magazines, but the kind you might mistake for husky until they started swinging. The boss cleared his throat. “Did you or did you not use the club funds to get out that little scrap of nothing?”
Finn shoved his thumbs in the large pockets of his coveralls. Is that what this was about? The money? Seemed like a piss-poor reason for Robinson to come down here and be mildly threatening. “No, I didn’t.” When the president of the Violent Spawn continued to give Finn a thousand-yard glare, Finn held up his hands in surrender. “I thought about it. Even got the money out of the safe. But at the end of the day I didn’t do it.”
The boss dragged his tongue over his teeth and shook his head. “Goddammit! Don’t play this smartass college boy crap with me, Librarian. You took the money out with the intent of handing it over to the goddamned police to help your little friend. What did you have to go and do a stupid thing like that for? Oliver Anderson is a teenager who doesn’t have his head screwed on straight. He isn’t a prospect, and he sure as hell isn’t a member of the club.”
“I didn’t use the money for that. I put the money back,” Finn repeated.
“But you were going to, which is damn near as bad in my book,” the boss snarled, “We help club members and the family of club members only. Now, unless you have supplanted Rob and put yourself into Sam Anderson’s bed while I was gone, Oliver ain’t your kid. He ain’t your brother, and he isn’t—”
“He might as well be. He helps out in this shop. He runs things for the club. He’s a good kid,” Finn defended.
“He’s a stupid kid. He gets into trouble, and he’s a show-off.”
“Who in this entire club doesn’t fit that description once in a while?” Finn demanded. “Hell, we get Speed out of trouble every other month for being a showoff.”
“That little runt has put his time and efforts into this club. He’s earned the ability for us to come to his rescue. Oliver hasn’t. He’s a punk kid who needs to do a lot of growing. And since he isn’t family—”
“I’m dating his sister,” Finn spat out, pushing himself off the pillar and taking a step toward Jace. It was an aggressive movement, and both men knew it. “I’ve been dating her for a while.”
The boss froze. It wasn’t out of fear. Finn knew that. He couldn’t remember a time the boss had ever been afraid of anything. There was a small tic in the square jaw of the big man. For a full half a minute, he did nothing but stare at Finn. “You wanna run that shit by me again?”
“Cora Anderson came back into town a day or two after you left. We’ve been seeing one another.”
It wasn’t a lie, not really, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. It didn’t matter. Finn could handle the punishment that the club might deal out to him for using club funds to help out someone who wasn’t legitimately part of the club, but there was a chance the punishment might extend to Oliver, and maybe even Cora. Finn could lie to protect the two of them.
“You stupid little shit. You stuck it to Cora Anderson?” The scoff was loud enough to echo across the walls of the shop.
There was something about the way he said her name that had Finn standing up straighter. He said “Cora Anderson” like it was a prayer and a curse all at the same time. It was a well-known fact that Jace Robinson didn’t treat women particularly well. Even his Old Lady said as much.
“It’s a little more complicated than that, boss, but yeah. I am. What of it?”
“We don’t use money to help random bitches we plow.”
Finn felt his hand clench and unclench at his side. He didn’t like anyone talking about Cora like that, and he liked it even less that it was coming out of Jace Robinson’s mouth. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. He’d heard him use far worse terms when it came to women.
“She’s not random.”
“You thinking about making her your Old Lady?”
“No, I’m thinking about leaving the club.”
Finn didn’t realize he meant it until the words came out of his mouth. He was thinking of leaving the club. He was thinking about leaving it all behind: Speed, Titan, and everyone else. Finn wanted to be good enough for her, and she had made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t willing to be with a criminal.
The boss looked him over and then cursed. “You mean it, don’t you, you stupid little—” Quick as a snake, Finn felt the boss’s hand on the back of his head, hauling him closer so their foreheads were pressed against one another like two rams who were midfight. Robinson’s breath was laced with cigarette smoke and brandy. “Does she know?”
“That I’m thinking of leaving?”
“No, nitwit, that you’ve got a two-inch pecker!” Robinson slapped his forehead against Finn’s with enough force that he saw spots. As an enforcer, Finn knew how to fight. As a lieutenant underneath Jace Robinson, he knew better than to fight back. He didn’t know who would win. Jace was a heavy-handed bastard who could use his fists like a hammer. Finn was faster and had dropped bigger men, but there was no upside to a fight. If Jace won, Finn would probably end up dead. If Finn won, the club would be forced to respond…and Finn would probably end up dead. So rather than fight, he stood there and took the headbutt and let the man sneer. “Yes! Does she know you are thinking of getting out?”
“No, I haven’t discussed it with her. She’s been dealing
with Oliver.”
Robinson released him as suddenly as he had snapped him out. “I’ll just bet she is. I’ll fucking bet. Fine, you want out? We’ll hold a meeting, put it to a vote. See if you get out. You know what happens if you leave.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“It’s blood in and blood out. You know the rules.”
“I remember.” Finn did remember. He remembered just how hard the whole crew had hit him in order to make sure he understood what he was getting into, and what might happen if he screwed up. He knew. He knew it would be worse on the way out because some of the guys would feel betrayed. “Why are you so damn pissed about this? Plenty of men have settled down and left. Not all of us have Old Ladies like yours who want to be part of this life.”
Jace shoved one meaty fist into a pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes that had been squashed to hell and back. “I don’t want to lose my best lieutenant.” He tapped a cigarette out with an expert flick of his wrist. “We are thinking of expanding. Patching in the little crew in the next town over, starting to make a business that can really do some damage.”
Finn raised his brow. “I thought the Violent Spawn didn’t expand. That we liked local.”
“I’m not talking about going to Ireland, you wise-mouthed ass, I’m talking about making sure our area is ours. Not that complicated.”
“But then you’ll have more enforcers to choose from,” Finn said. “Some who are ex-military, if I remember the guys you are talking about. I’m not a great fighter.”
“Hell you aren’t. Maybe it’s all that Native blood running through your veins, but I’ve never seen a man take someone down as fast as you do. Besides, you know how to keep all the bikes running. That’s a hell of a skill no one else has.”
“I could still fix things for the club.” Finn shrugged. “Be stupid business not to.”
Jace took a long puff on his cigarette and shook his head. “Yeah, it’d be stupid. You’d also be stupid to think Cora Anderson would want to stay in Carson when she did everything she could to get the hell out of this town.”
It was the bitter way he spat out the words that had Finn thinking. Cora had talked about her ex, another guy who rode around on a bike and had used her all up. Jace had a real bad reputation with women, right up until Marcy had settled him down, at least as much as any person could settle Jace Robinson down. Finn’s fist clenched at his side as he wondered if Jace Robinson had put that cold distant look in Cora’s eyes as she talked about her past.
He was just opening his mouth to ask when the phone in his pocket started to vibrate. Finn thought about ignoring it, but since it was going on eleven at night there was every chance that it was someone important. When he tugged it out of his pocket, Cora’s name shined up at him.
“Is it her?” Jace asked.
“Yeah,” Finn responded, his finger already on the Answer button.
“Take it. I gotta head out anyway. I’ll let you know when the meeting is. You can make your case to the rest of the club.”
Finn shook his head and hit the button. “Hey, what’s—”
“I thought your little club didn’t deal in drugs, Finn. Isn’t that what you told me?”
Finn’s mind came to a halt. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Oliver went to that stupid concert, and he was caught with drugs. Where the hell did he get them?” Her voice was loud and shrill enough that it echoed through the now empty shop.
Finn shook his head. Oliver? With drugs? It didn’t make any sense. The club had clear rules on drugs. They weren’t allowed. Anyone caught pushing drugs was dealt with immediately. No one sold in Carson, no one who wanted to keep their legs.
“I thought we decided he couldn’t go to the concert in the first place.”
“Really?” she sneered. “Is that what you are going to be taking out of this conversation? Don’t turn your guilt around on me.”
Finn felt a sick sensation crawl through his belly. Something else was going on here. There was something that wasn’t adding up. Oliver wasn’t supposed to be at the concert, with drugs or without them. He’d never known Cora to relent on much, and this seemed well outside of what she’d be willing to go easy on.
“I’m not,” he finally said. “I just feel like I’m not getting the whole story.”
“What more is there to know? Oliver went to the concert, and he was caught with…something. I don’t even know what. I was contacted by the security office. Does it matter?”
“Yeah, it matters. Was it pot? Was it crystal meth? It matters.”
“I don’t know,” she snapped back with enough force that he held the phone away from his ear an extra inch. This wasn’t like her—this wasn’t Cora Anderson. She was cold and confident, even when she was pissed. This felt wrong. Finn clenched and unclenched his fist.
“What do you want me to do?” he demanded. “I don’t even know what’s going on.”
“You could start with answering my question. Where did my little brother get drugs in this supposedly safe backwater town?”
Finn didn’t know, but he was damn sure he was going to find out. He hadn’t been lying when he told Jace that Oliver might as well be a little brother. The kid meant a lot to him, and he wanted to know what was going on.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m going to find out. You stay here. I’m going to go get him.”
“What? Why are you going to get him?”
“Because, between the two of us, I don’t have a problem with paying some minimum-wage concert security dude to keep this quiet so it doesn’t go on Oliver’s record and immediately land him in jail. You are obviously incapable of keeping him at home, so I’m going to go get him.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He sneered, “Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to beg.”
He hung up the phone before she could respond. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason he was so pissed, but that didn’t stop the feeling from being a hot simmer in his stomach. Something was going on, and he was going to find out what.
Chapter 18
Cora
Cora’s BMW Z4 Roadster barely shuddered as she hit a hundred going down the highway. It did very little to cool her anger. In the past few weeks, breaking the speed limit laws hadn’t given her quite the thrill of relaxation it used to. When she got back home she was going to have a spa weekend and then bury herself in work for the next seven years. That was where she belonged and what she ought to be doing.
She certainly wasn’t going to sit at home while the man took care of everything. If Finn thought she was the kind of woman who would just listen whenever some biker boy gave her some instruction, he was sorely mistaken. Oliver was her brother. Finn might have been some kind of surrogate, but what good had he really done? Her brother was heading down the road of drug use, and she wasn’t just going to let that go.
“How dare he,” she snarled as her knuckles turned white on the stick shift. Her anger was a ball of molten iron stoked by all the demands he had made of her. That damnable biker who hadn’t taken no for an answer. The one who had pushed, and in a moment of weakness she had given in. Oh, sure he had sides to him, but one of those sides was being a grade A jerk. She’d show him.
A cold trickle went down her throat as she realized Oliver was going to be alone with him. Would he show Finn the pictures? Would her little brother try to blackmail her…current boy toy? What if he figured out the reason she hadn’t had a choice in her brother going to this stupid concert? The flaming ball of anger turned into a sick, heavy filling in the very pit of her stomach.
“Damn!” she cursed, thumping a hand against the wheel of the car. She added more pressure to the gas and surged forward to a hundred and ten. “Damn him. Damn Oliver. Damn this whole state and everyone in it.”
He had lied and she knew it. Worse, he was trying to keep her away from Oliver so he could cover it up. She had nearly believed it. Cora had sat there and listened to him talk about how
drugs had ruined communities, and she had almost believed he had some scruples.
She followed the big signs for the amphitheater. The several acres’ worth of packed-earth parking lot was full to the breaking point. Cars of every make and model, most with band stickers sprinkled across the back, were lined up so closely that Cora was having a hard time picturing how anyone actually got out of their vehicles. Whatever, she thought as she found a tiny space toward the back of the lot. She was slender enough that she could make this work.
Two rows later she was beginning to regret her choice in shoes. Pinprick heels were not meant for angry parking-lot struts. She was storming near the entrance gate, where a large sign said Security was glaring down with big neon yellow lighting, when she saw Finn’s bike parked alongside several other motorcycles. Just seeing it sitting there made the miasma of her stomach roll over on herself. She wasn’t sure now if she was anxious or angry or some wild culmination of the two.