“I’m Steele, and I’m self-employed.” Fuck if he’d bring the club deeper into this particular pile of dog crap.
“I don’t have time for this.”
When his eyes adjusted, Steele brought a hand up and smashed his attacker’s wrist with all of his strength, knocking the gun out of Skeleton Boy’s hand.
Steele vaulted forward and gripped the other man by the shirt before ramming him into the opposite wall. When Steele reached for the mask, the guy grabbed Steele’s other wrist and butted the heel of his hand into Steele’s chin, clacking his teeth together. Lightning quick, Skeleton Boy hooked a foot around Steele’s ankle and sent him tumbling to the floor.
Steele knocked him off balance and hauled him down to the floor. They struggled, spinning around and around in the filth until Steele finally pinned Skeleton Boy beneath him.
“You okay?” Justice called from the doorway.
“I’m fine, man. Got the gun away from him.”
“Let go,” Skeleton Boy groaned.
Steele heard Justice coming in the door behind him, but he didn’t turn to look. He was more interested in the masked man on the floor. He yanked off the headlamp and used it as a spotlight, then jerked the mask down and gasped at what was revealed.
“Ashton Calhoun,” he whispered.
Steele couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t seen her since Abe’s funeral. Abe Calhoun’s younger twin sister. Abe had been born three minutes earlier, so he’d taken on the role of big brother.
“I ain’t seen you in a month of Sundays.” Steele stood and dragged her along with him.
He examined her more closely in the hazy light. He’d know Ash anywhere, even if she’d changed over the years. She was about five and a half feet tall with brown hair pinned tight to her head and the same vivid green eyes. Most noticeably, she now had a long jagged scar on the right side from her hairline to chin. While the skin must’ve knit together long ago, it’d left a deep groove in her pretty face.
Ash stared right back at him, studying him. “As I live and breathe, Jack Steele. I thought you looked familiar, but I wondered if my mind was playin’ tricks on me.”
Or maybe she’d wanted to fuck with him. He certainly deserved it.
Ash didn’t look angry, exactly—more like stunned, a bit wary. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been empty, hollowed out by grief at her brother’s funeral. He’d tried to approach her afterward, wanting to say something—anything—to ease her pain, but she’d walked away from him and right out of his life. They hadn’t spoken since.
Damn, but the military agreed with her.
She was hotter than he remembered—sleek and sexy. She was leaner, meaner, and practically dripping bad-assery with her big gun and tight fatigues. She’d dropped a couple pounds and replaced it with whip-corded muscle. After he had a few minutes to get used to the scar, he might get into it—it gave her a dangerous air.
Justice still brandished his weapon. “You two know each other?”
“Yeah. You can stand down. She’s cool, man.”
“Chilly, you might say.” Then came her familiar sub-zero expression—colder than a cast-iron commode in the winter.
“Uh…Steele?” Justice piped up. “She don’t look so friendly.”
Yeah, he could read it in the curl of her lip, the indifference in her gaze. Ash hated his ass, and she had every right to, but at least she wasn’t empty. Pissed off was better than grief-stricken.
Steele smiled at her, giving her a taste of his charm, hoping he’d thaw her out some. “Naw. Don’t worry. Me and Ash go way back. Trust me, she’s not a threat.”
“Wanna bet?”
She socked him in the nose, snapping his head back.
***
Twenty minutes later, Ashton Calhoun stood outside with Jack and his buddy, Justice. Jack had a white handkerchief pressed to his nose to stop the bleeding, and a large crimson stain bloomed on the fabric like a blood-red rose.
Good. Ash snickered. She wished she’d popped him a couple more times, maybe knocked out a tooth or two—he’d earned it and then some. An awkward silence hung over the group. No one had spoken a word after the introductions were made, and she sure as hell didn’t feel like chatting.
Jack hadn’t aged much in the past ten years—still tall, long, and lean. His body seemed more solid, muscled. And she should know. Ash had gotten her hands on him as they rolled around in the filth. Actually, he’d gotten more attractive, which wasn’t fair.
He still had dark brown hair and those striking hazel eyes—a cockiness she’d once found appealing as a love-struck teenager. At one time, she’d thought he was the sexiest guy she’d ever seen. Ash had followed him around for years…even wanted to give him her virginity in high school. Now, Ash was glad she’d screwed someone else.
Though Jack, er, Steele had given her her first kiss. He’d been damn good at it too…the bastard. He’d been the only guy she’d ever loved, and it’d died a slow, bleeding death.
And apparently, Jack had an alias now. He was going by his last name, Steele. Hmph. Justice and Steele. Lame. How the hell did Jack end up a member of a biker gang?
But more importantly, did she really give a rat’s ass? She’d been searching for the Raptors for a week now, and she’d boned up on biker culture. It was obvious the two men belonged to a gang.
Ash dusted the yuck off herself, although something sticky was glued to her backside. She probably didn’t want to know what had gotten stuck there.
Justice sat on the tailgate of their truck, watching her like he’d found a fascinating new show on Netflix. The biker had to be military, but she didn’t know what branch. She could tell by the way he’d handled himself in their earlier skirmish. He stood around six feet tall with light brown hair and blue eyes. His skin had a golden hue as though he’d spent a lot of time in the sun. Stubble hovered over his lips and across his cheeks. He wore a pair of hip-hugging, dark blue jeans along with a black hoodie.
Ash glared at him.
Neither of them offered up anything in the way of intel. She had ways of getting to the bottom of things—not so pleasant ways. They’d gone snooping in that house too. They had to be asshole-deep in all of this. Ash would be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to teaching them a lesson in the process. Namely, don’t fuck with me.
“Who is she again?” Justice asked. “A girlfriend, you said?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“She’s an old high school buddy, Ashton Calhoun. She enlisted in the Corps too.”
“Gotcha. A chick marine like Daze. Explains how she ambushed you.” Justice raised his brows.
Ash snorted. Jack’s mouth hung open like he was trying to catch flies.
“Fuck off. I was friends with her older brother, Abe.”
The mention of Abe’s name sent a spike of adrenaline spiraling through her body. She felt like backhanding him for daring to bring up her brother’s name but managed to hold on to herself. She ground her teeth together.
“Were you?”
Jack met her eyes. “We were all good friends. Once.”
Ash hadn’t intended to run into Jack—er—Steele again. It might’ve been easier if she’d left this alone, but she was here, and she had a case to work. Maybe fate had stepped in on this one. They had a lot of unfinished business between them. Things needed to be said.
And she didn’t back down from a fight—not these days.
Jack cleared his throat. “What the hell are you doin’ here? Last I heard, you were workin’ for military intelligence, all top secret.”
“Times change. Now I work for Cole Security as a contractor.”
“You’re a mercenary.”
Justice had a disapproving tone, but Ash nodded anyway. She didn’t like the title, but she couldn’t deny the truth of it.
“Doing what?”
“None of your fucking business, Jack.”
“The name’s Steele, and it’s the only one I’ll answer to.
” A muscle bulged in his jaw. “Now what the fuck were you doin’ in the house?”
“Lookin’ for buried treasure.”
“Dusty….”
“Don’t call me Dusty.” In middle school, he’d given her the pet name long before either of them had any real experience with death—ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
“When did you join a biker gang? Last time I saw your sorry ass, you were still a Marine.”
“I think you mean motorcycle club, and what makes you think I joined one?”
“The location, the stupid nicknames…Justice, Steele. Not to mention your tats. Are you Raptors?”
“Fuck, no,” they said in unison, feathers ruffled like two wet hens.
Interesting. They obviously didn’t like the Raptors, which might prove useful. “Then which biker gang are you members of? I know you weren’t hangin’ around this dump for shits and giggles.”
“Who are you working for?” Steele stepped closer.
“I told you. Cole Security.”
“Yeah, I heard, but who are you contracted to work for?” Steele asked. Then he and Justice exchanged a sly look.
She might as well give it up. This pissing contest was going nowhere. “The Drug Enforcement Agency.”
Justice frowned. “The DEA is using mercs? What the fuck? Don’t they gotta whole cadre of government employees?”
“Yeah, but those boys gotta obey so many pesky rules. I don’t.”
Being an independent contractor meant very few rules and no legal hang-ups. Ash didn’t require any red tape like search warrants, and she didn’t work with local law enforcement either. The bad guys she hunted down lived outside the protection of the legal system, so it all worked out real nice. She didn’t feel a bit sorry for the dealers or worry much about their so-called rights. And the pay wasn’t half bad either.
“No, it’s sort of like being a bounty hunter. I get bonuses for accurate information leading to arrests, but I’m not involved in the actual arresting most of the time. Now it’s your turn. Who do you work for?”
“So as a merc, you work outside the scope of the system.” Steele cocked his head to the side.
“Yeah. So what?”
Justice gave her a once-over in a non-sexual way, as though sizing her up. “And you’re huntin’ the Raptors?”
Ash raised her chin. “Yeah, what’s it to you?”
They both grinned evil, like twin jack-o-lanterns on a fall front porch.
“We’re members of the Four Horsemen MC.” Justice acted like it was something to be proud of.
“How’d you like to be partners?” Steele asked.
Partners with Steele and his criminal buddies?
“I’d rather light myself on fire.” Ash turned on her heel and headed for her Forrester.
“You haven’t even heard us out.” Steele followed her to an SUV she’d stashed behind the house in a copse of trees while Justice trailed them, still letting his brother do all the talking.
“Don’t need to.” She opened the door and grabbed a couple of napkins from the console. Ash spread them over the seat so her stained ass didn’t make the upholstery a gummy mess.
Before she could climb up, Steele snagged her arm. She fixed him with a glare.
“Why you workin’ a dangerous mission like this without a partner?”
“I work alone. Now get out of my face.”
Ash did everything alone these days. The higher-ups at Cole had offered her all sorts of partners. She’d had her pick–former Special Forces, ex-SEALS…anyone she wanted. But she’d refused, preferring to keep her life clean and simple.
He backed away and placed his hands on his hips. “Just meet with Axel, the president of our club.”
“Why?”
“Because we can help you.”
“Why are you so fired up to find the Raptors? Is this some kind of revenge deal? Because I ain’t got time for cowboy shit.”
“You seem to make time for your own revenge.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Abe died in a poppy field. You can’t tell me it’s some coincidence you’re workin’ for the DEA now, bringing drug dealers to justice.”
She wanted to shove the barrel of her gun under his chin again. “Abe was murdered because you didn’t stay at your fucking post, Steele.”
He flinched.
Good, she wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her if it were even possible. While he’d lost a friend, she’d been severed in two, and only death would make her whole again.
He refused to meet her eyes. “I know. But I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, you got me, but you’re the last person on earth I’d work with. I hate your guts.”
She’d wanted to identify and hunt down Abe’s killers, but her superiors had found out she’d been misusing Marine intelligence resources. They’d chewed her ass and hurried her out of Afghanistan. Ash had served out the rest of her tour in Iraq. Afterward, the military told her she could either quit, or they’d dishonorably discharge her.
Ash couldn’t enter Afghanistan without raising some big fucking red flags; she’d been forced to target other bastards who killed people for drugs–cartels. If she couldn’t punish Abe’s killers, she’d make damn sure his death meant something by going after assholes in the drug trade.
Steele turned from her, and she studied his profile for a minute. He cleared his throat before he spoke.
“I know you hate me. Hell, you should hate me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help you complete your mission.”
She shook her head. “I can’t trust you. You care more about your own skin than partners, so fuck you, and fuck your offer.”
“One of our men is missing. The Raptors took him and....” Steele turned away from her so she couldn’t see his face.
“What aren’t you sayin’?”
Calmly, Steele worked the buttons on his shirt until he revealed his chest swathed in gauze. He peeled back the tape and exposed a deep cut in the shape of an eagle—the Raptor’s symbol.
“Holy shit.”
Ash took a sick sort of satisfaction in seeing his wounds. Sometimes she felt like Steele had taken a knife to her chest and carved out her heart.
“They cut me before they took one of our brothers, Coyote.”
“You lost another partner.”
“I did.” His tone was cold and clipped.
“And he’s still…alive?”
“We think so. For now.” Steele sighed.
She glanced at Justice over Steele’s shoulder. He wouldn’t look her in the eye. “I’m surprised you walked away from this mission.”
“So? Will you work with us?”
If the Raptors had one of the Four Horsemen’s men, the gang had a plan of some sort, or they would’ve killed the guy and been done with it. Tracking a target was easier if she knew their purpose. Otherwise, Ash had to fumble around blindly, hoping she’d figure out what they were up to and where they’d gone.
Ash hated to admit it, but she was desperate. The run-down house had been a long shot. The Raptors had gone underground, and she’d only come up with one other tiny lead because one of their former employees had shown up in the system. If she delivered the Raptor’s location, they’d get one step closer to taking down the Tres Erre. She wanted to see something meaningful come from her work—something to make Abe’s sacrifice worth all the pain and suffering her brother had gone through that terrible night.
“Why’d they kidnap Coyote?”
“Not a fuckin’ clue. So you’ll meet with Axel?”
“Fine. I’ll see your boss, but it’s only a meetin’. I haven’t agreed to anythin’.”
“Got it,” he said. “We’ll lead the way.” Steele sauntered over to his truck while she slid into her SUV.
Despite her better judgment, she might have to work with the Four Horsemen.
Chapter Four
I must be out of my ever-lovin’ mind.
She drove beh
ind Steele and Justice in her dark gray Subaru Forrester. The next thing Ash knew, they passed the city limits into a town called Hell.
Fabulous.
Ash distracted herself by glancing around, getting a lay of the land. While she wanted to hate the place simply because Steele lived here, she couldn’t. From what she could tell, Hell was a quaint town. Lots of little shops with hell-themed names: Devil’s Brew, Inferno Firearms, Perdition, and Hades to name a few.
It reminded Ash of her hometown, Poteet, Texas.
Poteet’s biggest tourist draw was a strawberry festival held in April every year. Poteet really got into it—the water tower had been painted to resemble a big strawberry, and there were several smaller statues of the fruit scattered around the town. She’d been in marching band, and they’d performed every year in the town parade. Ash had learned Strawberry Fields Forever on the flute—no easy task.
Ash loved the small town atmosphere, but working for the DEA required a lot of traveling, both domestic and abroad to Mexico. She hadn’t been back home to Poteet in years—being in the town was too painful.
Around every corner were memories. Poteet was so small, the elementary, middle, and high schools had been combined into one mega building, and she and Abe had been in the same class since kindergarten.
They’d shared everything—friends, family, a vocation. Their parents were furious when she and Abe had announced they were enlisting into the Marines. Ash thought they’d probably pictured them following in their footsteps—going to college and then medical school or law school—but a recruiter had come to Poteet. Knowing what she did now, she wished they’d applied to college instead.
Abe would still be alive, and she wouldn’t be so…damaged.
Suddenly, the bikers stopped, and she snapped back to the present. Ash was grateful for the distraction. Memory lane was a real bitch. According to the flaming sign, featuring a devil holding a wrench, the garage was Seventh Circle Motors.
It was a large warehouse-type structure with three separate garage doors. One of those slid open, and a tall, dark-haired man sauntered out. Looking beyond him, Ash noted a concrete floor and a vaulted ceiling. Along the walls were red metallic cabinets, presumably stuffed full of shiny steel tools.
Wild Ride (Let it Ride Book 2) Page 16