Skye turned automatically to see what he was looking at, and her foot hit something.
Someone.
She gasped as she recognized Wyatt lying on the floor unconscious. A quarter-sized knot on the back of his head oozed blood.
“Well, well. Ain’t this a scene to behold.” The familiar voice spun her around. “I’m all choked up.”
Mick Smith stood in the doorway. He smiled, lips pulling back from his teeth as he stared at them. He wore a black T-shirt and leather pants, the biker vest loose on his shoulders.
The riding crop was anchored on a belt loop, swinging free at his side.
The biker from the waiting room stood behind Smith, gripping Pat’s arm. The nurse flinched in pain, and Skye’s stomach lurched.
So much for hospital security.
She looked down again at Wyatt, relieved to see he was still breathing.
Ace.
She only hoped he was alive and able to put out the alarm, let Jessie and Dylan know things had gone wrong.
Oh, so wrong.
She’d been worried about Smith grabbing Finn, seeing past his cover and taking her man down hard.
She’d never imagined this.
Skye stepped closer to Robby, reaching out to grab his hand. It was cool and wet, trembling in her grip.
“Robby. So glad you could make it back.” The Wolf stepped into the room. “You’re one tough son of a bitch.”
Robby shook his head. “I won’t tell them anything, Mick. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” He stared at Skye. “It was an accident. I got mugged.”
Mick laughed. “I know you will. Forgive me if I don’t trust your sister here to do the same.” He clapped his hands together. “Isn’t this a lovely family reunion? Except do you know what would make it better?”
Skye squeezed Robby’s hand, afraid to let go.
Smith advanced on her with a wide grin. He stepped over Wyatt and leaned in, close enough to whisper in her ear. “Your boyfriend, Finn.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The dry air bit at Finn’s lungs, daring him to drink the last bottle of water lying on the seat beside him. His throat was gritty, and the inside of his eyelids had turned to sandpaper.
He was ready to go home and take a long, cool shower with Skye before taking her to bed for a short nap, followed by hours of passionate lovemaking.
It’d been a long drive down to Mexico, the back roads leading him into areas he was sure hadn’t changed since prehistoric times. The crossing had been easy, the guards either lazy or bought off by either the gang or the cartel supplying the drugs. They’d waved him through without a second look.
It had been afternoon when he’d found the garage on the outskirts of a small town, right where the handwritten instructions had placed it. The mechanics grinned and waved him inside, chattering to each other in Spanish.
Finn exited the car and stretched before going to sit in the makeshift waiting room. He couldn’t see into the garage, but he had a good guess what was happening.
The boxes being loaded into the trunk were filled with false bottoms and sides, stuffed with blocks of heroin, the spare parts acting as decoys. The side panels of the car would be pried off and the cash removed and replaced with even more packets.
He waited until one of the mechanics stepped outside for a smoke.
Finn followed, joining the man. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes he kept inside his leather jacket for such opportunities. He didn’t smoke unless necessary, and right now it was.
The mechanic eyed the pack with obvious interest. When Finn offered him one, the man took it, tucking his original cigarette behind one ear. “Gracias.”
Finn lit up his own cigarette and drew some of the smoke into his mouth before letting it escape. They puffed away in silence until Finn ventured into light conversation. It wasn’t long before it turned toward family and friends.
“My mother.” Finn grinned as he spoke in fluent Spanish. “She worries about me. I’m supposed to call her once a day except I forgot my phone back in my other car.” He shook his head. “She’s supposed to be setting me up with the daughter of one of her friends for a lunch date tomorrow.” Finn let out an exaggerated sigh. “Always trying to find me a wife.”
The man chuckled. “No matter how old you get they never stop.” He studied Finn. “There’s no cell reception out here.”
“Here.” Finn dragged on the cigarette. “I’m going to be driving soon enough.”
“Not much out there, either.”
Finn shrugged. “Not really something you need to worry about.”
“A hundred dollars, and I get you a burner phone. You don’t use it until you’re out of here. You get in trouble, I have no idea who you are. You identify me, and I’ll cut your throat or get someone to do it for me.”
Finn didn’t flinch. “Done.” He reached inside his jacket and extracted the money from the envelope.
The man took the bills and walked away, flicking his cigarette out into the street.
Finn waited five minutes, letting his own smoke burn down, then he resumed his vigil in the waiting room.
An armed man stepped through an hour later and nodded at Finn as the workers slowly backed the car out of the garage and into the alley behind the building.
He didn’t need a translator.
There was no sign of the mechanic he’d given the cigarette and the money to.
Finn settled into the driver’s seat and studied the clock. It was well after four.
He looked at the handwritten instructions again. They took him on a different road out of town, heading west before swerving east and back north, up to the United States and the Rest ‘n’ Relax.
As he put the car into gear, he spied a small plastic bag, stuffed down between the passenger seat and the armrest.
The burner phone.
His lifeline.
He shifted his weight on the seat, thinking about Skye. Maybe when this was all over he’d take her to Vegas, give them a bit of breathing room to see what they had, out from under fire.
He cared for her—that wasn’t up for discussion. Except, once the crisis was gone, once the pressure was off, it would be a whole new world, one where she might not be as interested in Finn as she thought she was, and vice versa.
He’d seen it in the field before. Friends turned to lovers and back to friends once the firefight was over. It wasn’t a bad thing; it was simply a fact of life. The only way to find out if what he and Skye had would last was to take down Mick Smith.
The sun started to set, the blazing oranges and reds illuminating the horizon like an artist’s palette. Finn smiled and adjusted his sunglasses, grateful for the night’s cooling air. He’d reach the parking lot after midnight, as instructed.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, eager to get back. If his calculations were right, Dylan would be waiting for him with Mac, their federal contact, and a slew of agents waiting to fall on Mick Smith and his gang.
Finn picked up the burner phone and held it up, studying the small screen. A single bar signaled contact with the outside world. He suspected the route had been chosen partially for this reason—if someone did manage to get hold of a phone, it wouldn’t be of much use until now.
He pulled off to the side of the road and dialed Dylan’s number.
Someone picked up on the second ring. “Finn?”
“Dylan.” Finn relaxed, hearing the familiar voice. “I’m on the way back. Tell Mac to get ready.”
“Mick Smith has Skye and Robby.”
Finn almost dropped the phone. “What?”
“Robby woke up. Smith and his men jumped Ace in the parking lot, choked him unconscious, and left him there. They rushed Wyatt and knocked him out in Robby’s room, kept it all quiet so hospital security didn’t notice. Took Pat as a hostage, made her call Skye and have her come to the hospital.”
“She walked right into it,” Finn said.
“She ran right into it,” Dylan repl
ied. “Can’t blame her. The bastards left with Skye and Robby after tying everyone up. Bought themselves a good half hour’s head start before Ace woke up and raised the alarm. Everyone’s fine, although Wyatt’s got one hell of a bump on his head.”
Finn gritted his teeth. “Tell me the cops are raiding the compound and storage areas even as we speak.”
“Mac pulled the trigger as soon as he heard. Both sites were hit a half hour ago. Lots of evidence but no arrests. The members are in the wind with warrants out on all of them. No sign of Skye or Robby.”
Finn swallowed hard, trying to keep dire images from crowding into his mind’s eye. “Why didn’t they kill Robby right there? Why take him and Skye?”
“My bet is that they’ve made the connection between you and her,” Dylan said. “They plan to use her and Robby to leverage you into keeping your part of the deal and delivering the car.”
Finn ground his teeth. “Bastards.”
“All of them, most definitely.”
“You think they’re under the impression I’m a fed?” Finn gripped the steering wheel hard, mentally dissecting Smith.
“They don’t know who you are, and that’s got to be digging in deep. That’s why they took Skye and Robby, to make sure you show up on time with the drugs. No matter who you’re working for, you won’t let them get hurt.”
“Smith’s fucking right about that.” He got out of the car, pushing down the raw fear tearing him up inside. “You and the Feds ready to take them down when they show up at the meet?”
“Yes. We’re leaving soon with Mac’s team. They’re salivating at the idea of catching Smith with a car full of heroin. The tapes we have are good, but this is going to be the icing on the cake.”
“Damned straight. See you in a few hours.” Finn cut the connection.
His stomach twisted into knots, a hot ball of nausea threatening to overwhelm him. He grabbed the last bottle of water and drank it fast, dribbling it between his lips and down his front. He flashed back to the apartment and Skye standing there, her hands trembling as she held the coffee cup.
I’ll come back to you. Promise. His own words came back to dig at him, twisting into his belly like a knife.
I’ll kill Smith if anything happens to them. No judge, no jury. Only my justice.
No holding back this time.
Finn punched the side of the car, laying down a series of harsh blows and denting the panels, stopping only when pain shot up his arms.
Finally, he headed back out onto the dirt road, gritting his teeth.
I’m coming for you. For you both.
…
Skye was mad.
They’d rushed her and Robby into a van waiting in the hospital parking lot, leaving Pat and Wyatt tied up in the room.
Robby leaned against her as the van sped away, wearing a T-shirt and a pair of track pants—clothing she’d brought to the hospital in anticipation of his waking up. She’d barely been able to negotiate that much, promising Smith they wouldn’t fight on the way out. While they’d tied Pat and Wyatt up, she’d forced Robby into the clothing, trying to shield him as best she could.
Now she was being driven to an uncertain fate, and all she knew was that she wanted to punch the hell out of someone.
Specifically, the man who sat in the passenger seat, grinning as they sped through streets tinged with shadows as the sun went down.
Finn.
He’d be as pissed as she was, if not more.
Nothing would keep him from coming to find her.
All she had to do was be ready when he did.
“Skye,” Robby whispered. “What’s going on?”
Mick looked over his shoulder. “Your big sister got it in her mind she’d like to take us down for what we did to you. Course, she had no idea what landed you in that hospital bed in the first place.” He grinned. “She don’t know what sort of a naughty boy you were, begging us for work.”
She stroked Robby’s damp hair. “I don’t care. Whatever you said or did, it didn’t justify this.”
Smith arched one eyebrow. “He was fine until he decided to be greedy, asked too much. Now we’re going to have to take care of all you.” He paused. “Too bad your brother fought so hard to come back. If you ask nicely, I’ll put him down first.”
Skye glanced through the windshield, trying to place their location as the van slowed to turn a corner. It slipped into an alley, shadows blanketing the vehicle.
Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized where they were.
…
Finn ground his teeth together as he pulled onto the final side road. According to the handwritten instructions, this should lead him to the back of the Rest ‘n’ Relax and his rendezvous with the gang.
He drew a deep breath, kicking his senses into high gear. Somewhere nearby, Dylan and the Feds would be waiting, ready to jump when the Wolf took possession of the car. And as soon as they nabbed Smith, Finn would be in his face, demanding to know where Skye and Robby were.
Negotiations would follow, most of them involving punching Smith until he confessed.
Finn scanned the road as he crept up onto the asphalt at the edge of the parking lot, the convenience store half a football-field away.
Nothing. No one. Not even an orphaned trailer waiting for its owner to come back.
Finn cut the engine and rolled back into the exact spot he’d vacated almost exactly twenty-four hours earlier.
The pricking at the back of his neck started.
He exited the car and leaned back against the driver’s side, waiting.
A phone went off, the first few notes of a popular British television show.
Finn spun, startled at the familiar noise.
A second ring. A third.
Finn spotted the source—a cell phone taped to the front door of the Rest ‘n’ Relax.
His cell phone.
He ran to the store, yanked it free, and put it to his ear.
“Finn,” Mick Smith said. “Right on time.”
“Thanks.” Finn slowly walked around the car, searching the darkness. “I’m here with the car.”
“Well, that’s good. Because I’m here, and I’ve got your woman. And her brother.” The low chuckle made Finn’s skin crawl. “Guess you’re wondering how we put you together, hmm?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Finn replied. “What woman?”
“The one who’s been running the convenience store behind you. And who you’ve been screwing for the past few weeks.” A pause. “Took a little bird chirping in my ear to make the connection between you and Skye and to Robby. Tell me, who do you work for?”
“None of your damned business.” Finn wasn’t about to expose the Brotherhood.
“The Diablos? The MTK? The Feds get brave and send you out?” A snarl came across the line. “You can save yourself and Skye a lot of pain if you tell me now.”
“Screw you.”
Smith chuckled. “You’ll tell me later, after I break a few of her fingers.”
“I’m going to break your nose.” Finn forced himself to speak slowly, the facade now over. “Then I’ll let Skye dance on your balls.”
The low, hoarse laugh echoed through the small speaker. “Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll see what she can do, all in good time.” His tone shifted. “Okay, you son of a bitch. This is how it’s going to go down. You’re going to head out on the highway to Las Vegas and drive for an hour, then pull over at Exit 223. There’s an abandoned gas station.”
“Then what?”
“We’ll give you the woman for the drugs. One for one. I figure she’s worth it to you. You get her, we grab the drugs and run. You come alone. I smell anyone creeping behind you, and I blow her brains all over the asphalt. It’s your choice.”
“Why don’t you give it up?” Finn glanced around, wondering if someone was watching. “I know your clubhouse has been raided, along with the storage unit. You’ve got nothing left, Smith. Your men are being snatch
ed up and tossed into jail—they’re going to start talking as soon as they get offered a deal, and they’ll sell you out. Let the Harrises go, and you might survive the night.”
The low laugh stung him like acid. “I’ve been doing this for a good long time. Some of them won’t have the backbone to stay quiet. Others, well…they’ll throw themselves in front of me to take a bullet. And they are. With what’s in the car I’ll be able to go underground for as long as it takes then come back—bigger and stronger. You can’t stop me. The only hope you have is that I don’t get bored before you get here, and start in on your girlfriend.”
A snap of leather on metal rang through the air.
“What can I tell you? I’m a man with needs.” Smith laughed.
Finn snarled, imagining him standing over Skye with the riding crop in hand. “I bring you the car, you give me Skye. What do you want for her brother?”
“Not up for negotiation. We have unfinished business with Robby. Be there in an hour or don’t bother.”
“How do I know either of them is still alive?”
“You don’t,” Mick replied. “It’s all on you. Clock’s ticking.”
The line went dead.
Finn glared at the phone before racing back to the car, burning rubber as he peeled out of the parking lot.
…
“He’s having a fit.” Smith grinned, looking down at Skye. “Seems he’s quite taken with you.”
She pulled against the nylon rope holding her arms behind her back, the thick knots tight against her skin. “He’s going to kill you. If I don’t do it first.”
Smith laughed. He swung the riding crop through the air and smacked the counter again. “Tough talk for a woman in your position.”
The inside of the diner seemed warped, twisted in the shifting darkness. Skye wouldn’t have recognized it as the place she’d worked for years.
Smith crouched down. “Tell me who he works for, and I’ll make it fast.” He touched her leg with the crop, grinning as she flinched. “If he’s a cop, he’s a damned good one. If he’s a crook, he’s got balls of steel. Tell me, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Fuck you,” she said.
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