Silent Deceit

by Kallie Lane

  As Skip enjoyed the view of her excellent ass swaying through the doorway, he knew she had played him. She would try to investigate on her own.

  "Get over it," he said to himself. He had worse things to worry about, like hiding his semi-erection while he followed her inside. The damn woman drove him crazy.

  For Natasha’s sake, he prayed Zach was still breathing. But, after all the trouble the guy got into on a regular basis, Skip didn’t hold out much hope.

  Natasha awoke with a jolt, a hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Shh.” Rena’s fingers trembled a little as she released her hold. “I heard voices... someone’s outside.”

  “Okay, I’ll handle it.” Natasha whispered.

  It took a few seconds for her to get her bearings and remember where she was—Rena’s upstairs apartment behind Trailblazer's. She moved off the couch and pulled on jeans, a sweatshirt and sneakers, adding the Colt .380 to her jeans front pocket. The little gun helped her feel in control...even if it was a big fat lie. God, what she'd give for her police issue Glock. Too bad it was too big to conceal. She peeked through the verticals hanging in the front window. One of the slats swished back and forth. Grabbing for it, she bumped another one, setting the entire blind in motion.

  Two men below her in the parking lot—one of them Deuce—caught the movement and broke for the stairs. Crap! They know someone’s watching them!

  Ducking below the window, Natasha crawled on her hands and knees to reach Rena. “They’re coming. Quick, get under the bed while I take your place.”

  “You’re not making any sense. Not when they know I live here.” Rena’s voice wobbled, barely a whisper. “You hide!”

  “Rena, don’t argue with me. Please—”

  Footsteps creaked on the outside landing. The snick of a key in the lock and the door swung inward on its hinges. No more time. Natasha rolled under the narrow bed and plastered herself against the wall. The light flipped on. She held her breath. Two pairs of XL work boots strolled into view.

  Rena shrieked as Deuce and his thug overpowered her. The mattress bounced above Natasha's head. What are they doing? Heart pounding against her breastbone, her instincts focused on protecting Rena. She two handed the Colt, aiming at the footwear in front of her face.

  But, if she fired she'd lose her chance of finding Zach. Damn it, where was Skip when she needed him? Like she didn't already know. He was off in the land of I’ve been screwed. Because she'd flat-out ditched him tonight. A really stupid move, one she'd regret for the rest of her life if something bad happened to Rena. Hell for breakfast, he's probably back at the hotel. Cursing a blue streak and wondering where I am.

  "Make sure you don't hurt her," Deuce said. "I don't want her following us, but be careful you don't give her an overdose."

  A minute later, Rena stopped fighting, a soft moan escaping her lips. The mattress stilled. Dear God, have they killed her?

  “She’ll have one hell of a headache in the morning, but she'll be okay,” a guy grunted. Moshpit, Deuce’s nasty bodyguard. Natasha cringed. God, she hated his voice. “Don't worry boss, she won’t remember a thing.”

  “As long as we aren't disturbed. Take the evidence with you and let's get to work.” Deuce laughed, the son of a bitch. He crossed the room, opened the door, and they disappeared into the night.

  Creeping out from under the bed, Natasha’s knee landed on something hard lying on the carpet. She felt for it with her hands, connecting with a plastic syringe cap. Suspicion confirmed. Rena had been drugged. She felt for a pulse in the other woman's neck. Strong. Steady. But she was out for the count, which left no one to sound the alarm if things really got dicey. Still...no pain, no gain. This was Natasha's chance to follow Deuce. Maybe he'd lead her to her brother.

  She dialed Skip on her cell phone. Left a message when he didn't pick up. Cracking the door, she scanned the parking lot. No one there. She locked up behind her—for all the good it would do—and eased down the stairs. Her back pressed against the side of the building, she led with the Colt as she peeked around the corner. Pale light shone from a single bulb at the entrance to the club. Enough to see Deuce and Moshpit skulk through the doorway. The light switched off.

  Natasha scanned the area looking for more of Trailblazer's thugs. She couldn't see anyone on guard duty. Which didn't mean much. Not with black clouds darkening the sky tonight. Another storm must be moving in. Still, it worked both ways. If she couldn't see them, they couldn't see her. It was time to move. Inhaling a steadying breath, she zigzagged across open ground. Another few feet and she'd breach the door.

  Oh my God! Agonizing pain shot through her foot. Her leg buckled midstride, a scream clawing up her throat. She held it back and collapsed in the dirt. Sweet baby Jesus, something horrible had penetrated the sole of her sneaker. Please, don't let it be a used syringe!

  Heavy footfalls vibrated the ground beneath her. She dragged herself behind a pile of lumber and froze. Held back a whimper and clutched the Colt to her chest.

  Paralyzed with pain, she thought of Skip. Needing his razor-sharp skills and muscular strength. Wishing she hadn't sneaked off on her own. But, damn the man, he made it impossible for her to find her brother, cutting her off at every opportunity. Never mind her ridiculous fantasy of making love with him, the possibility of a solid relationship, and maybe even a happy ending. Feelings she couldn't explore. Not while making her mark as a tough undercover cop. Besides, she didn't need anyone, least of all a man who melted her insides to quivering jelly. Life was simpler when she'd hated him. When she’d thought he was a criminal.

  Two men approached, one at each end of the stack of wood. Deuce's thugs. They'd found her. The beam of a flashlight hit her eye-level. She raised the Colt, knowing she'd only hit one of them before they killed her.

  "Drilling me with that pea-shooter will only piss me off. Stand down."

  Christ, she looked a mess. Skip could see the pain in her eyes and her face was ashen.

  "I can't walk," she whispered. "I stepped on something."

  "No shit, Sherlock." He dropped to his haunches, flashed the light over her injury and scooped her up. Blue kicked dirt over the blood on the ground then watched their backs as they hustled for the woods and the pickup stashed on an old logging road. Thank God, it seemed whatever Deuce was up to, no one was guarding the premises. Suspicious? For sure. It meant Deuce didn't want his people to know about his midnight forays. What was that about? "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to wear soft soled shoes to a construction site?"

  "Guess I didn't get the memo." Natasha snuggled against him, sweat tracking her temples and her teeth chattering. No wonder, considering she had a three inch nail puncturing her foot. It must hurt like the devil.

  "Wait. We have to go back." She struggled in his arms. He damn near dropped her. "Put me down."

  "Forget it, Tas." Skip strengthened his hold. "Your sleuthing is done for the night. You need a doctor."

  "Rena's unconscious in her apartment." Natasha's small hands pushed against his chest. "Deuce drugged her with something, and he has a key to get back in. He thought it was her watching him from the window."

  "Fan-fucking-tastic." Blue tapped him on the shoulder. "Take my bike off the truck bed and stash it. Then get her to a hospital. We'll meet up later."

  Skip eyed his CO, knowing he wouldn't leave a woman behind on his watch. But he suspected there was more. He hadn't missed the sparks flying between those two at their last meet and greet. If Deuce or his buddies came back tonight to do more damage to Rena? They would be in for a surprise party.

  As Blue disappeared like smoke, Skip turned back to the trail. Another few minutes and he lifted Natasha into the truck. He backed Falcone’s bike off the tailgate, secured her seatbelt and keyed the engine. She whimpered when the truck bounced on the way to the highway. He felt bad about it, but there was nothing he could do to ease her pain.

  After a two-hour session at the emergency room, they were back at her motel. No
broken bones, a goddamn miracle as far as the doctor was concerned. Skip carried Natasha inside. Laid her on the bed and phoned out for pizza. Lined her meds up on the bedside table and poured her a glass of water to take a pain pill. Never let it be said he wasn't a handy guy to have around.

  "Okay Skip, get it over with." She threw her hands in the air and glared at him. "Do your damndest and yell at me. Let it all out, and we'll both feel better. I know I messed up."

  Messed up? Yell at her? Hell, he'd like to throttle her for scaring him half to death. And make love to her, fool that he was. Stupid woman. At least he’d gotten some satisfaction from the tetanus shot and stitches she'd endured at the hospital. Hard to believe she was afraid of needles and had clung to him like a lifeline.

  He watched her now, watching him, looking pale and fragile in the Queen size. And beautiful. Sexy. Smelling like sin. His anger evaporated, replaced by the need building inside him like a freaking inferno. "I'd rather do this."

  He touched down beside her, careful of her bandaged foot encased in a Velcro boot, and wrapped her in his arms. She didn't resist when his mouth covered hers. Tentative at first, she opened for him, her sigh soft between them as his tongue touched hers. Honeyed. Warm. His hand dipped beneath her sweatshirt, gliding up skin the texture of satin to palm a breast. She arched into him when his thumb and forefinger rolled the furled bud. Still, as desperate as he was to have her, he held back. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

  Eyes shining with desire—no question there—she reached for him. But, he had to be sure. She'd been through a lot, and had taken a pain pill. She moaned, touching the back of his hand through the fabric. "No...I need this too."

  Skip breathed a sigh of relief and pushed her sweatshirt up, his mouth closing on her other breast. He teased the peak, nipping and suckling until she writhed beneath him, his own body rock hard and ready to explode. Her hand found his and guided it down to her button fly. "Help me get out of these."

  "Bluebird..." He removed the boot, pushed her jeans past her hips and slid them carefully down her legs. Ah, God, her panties were a tiny scrap of red lace. Settling between her thighs, he cupped her bottom, his teeth teasing the material aside. His mouth found her sweetness. Glistening...exquisite...wild. Senses reeling, he couldn't get enough, wanted to shout from the rooftops when she cried out for release.

  Time enough for that—they had all night. To touch and taste, explore each other's needs.

  Someone knocked on the door. "Pizza delivery."

  Shit!

  "Hurry up and pay him." Natasha grabbed for the comforter and covered herself. "I like cold pizza. Don't you?"

  "It's my favorite." Skip reached into a back pocket for his wallet, unlocked the door and shoved a handful of bills at the guy out front. Grabbed the pizza and locked up again. He tossed the pie on the small desk and—another pound on the door. He winked at Natasha. "Delivery dude forgot the sodas."

  He flipped the deadbolt, reached for the drinks, and came nose-to-nose with Blue.

  "Make room in the bed for one more." He shot through the doorway with Rena in his arms. "She's starting to come around, but I couldn't leave her alone in that hellhole."

  He nodded to Natasha as he deposited Rena gently beside her, unzipping her out of his leather jacket and covering her with a quilt. "How are you doing?"

  "I'm fine," Natasha said. Then she yawned and closed her eyes, a sure sign the pain meds had kicked in.

  "We'll be next door if you need us." Blue motioned to Skip. "Let's go. Take the pizza and lock up."

  Grabbing Natasha's Glock from the desk, Skip placed it beside her on the nightstand. Turned off the lamp. Nothing else he could do other than snatch the pie, take a cold shower, and listen to Blue snore.

  Chapter Five

  "You think they dosed me with Rohypnal?" Rena slumped on the couch and downed a couple of aspirin. "No wonder I have such a horrible headache."

  Blue looked away, as if the sight of her clingy sleep Tee and shorts made him uncomfortable. Natasha felt her eyebrows arch in surprise. She had seen Blue work undercover many times. There was nothing wrong with her memory, and biker babes strutted around topless or naked in front of him all the time. After all, he was a great looking guy with a killer physique. She'd often seen gals slide into his lap hoping for a thrill ride, and not on his Harley. But he'd brush them off. His response to Rena was different. One Natasha had never seen before—awkward and almost shy.

  "For sure they used Rohypnal or something similar." His fists clenched, Blue paced the small room looking like an eagle trapped in a budgie cage. "You were paralyzed when I found you. Couldn't move. Couldn't speak. All you could do was stare when I picked you up and carried you off. Deuce made damn sure you'd be compliant and unable to remember a thing."

  "All the more reason for me to act as if nothing has happened." Rena glanced at the clock on the nightstand. The digital readout blinked five a.m.. "I'll sneak back to my apartment before anyone notices I'm gone. Can one of you give me a lift?"

  "Let me find you some clothes." Hobbling to the tiny closet—the ache in her foot flaring with every step—Natasha pulled out jeans, a hoodie, and an old pair of sneakers. The red in the hoodie matched the streak in Rena's bangs.

  Relief at Rena’s decision to return to the club overrode the guilt nudging Natasha's conscience. This wasn't the other woman's fight, and Zach wasn't her brother. Still, if she wanted to help without being pressured, why not let her? "Blue, will you take Rena back by the logging road? Skip and I should park in the lot with the rest of the cleanup crew."

  "No freaking way. Use your brain, Rena." Blue stopped the back and forth routine and glared, apparently not happy with Rena's take on things. "Anything could have happened to you last night if Deuce and Moshpit had a mind to have themselves some fun. And I wasted valuable time watching you, waiting for them to come back. It's damned lucky they bypassed your door when they shut down for the night or I might have killed them. Which wouldn't help us find Zach."

  Rena tipped her chin, a stubborn look in her eyes. "Look, I appreciate what you did, but I can take care of myself."

  "Nope. You're finished on this op, sweet cheeks, unless you want to be raped...or worse. I can't spare anyone to watch your back. My people are already spread too thin. Most of them are in Edmonton right now. Besides, you're a distraction I can't afford."

  "Nice speech, Blue, but you don't own me." Rena gathered up the clothes in her lap and stood, pushing past him as she crossed the room. "I'm going back to Trailblazer's because I don't have a choice. I'm saving to buy a taxi, remember? Besides, I wanna be there when Tigz shows up."

  The outer door opened before Blue could respond. Skip strolled in with their takeout order. He smelled delicious—some kind of manly shower gel—and Natasha thought he looked good enough to eat. Figuratively speaking, of course. Still, part of her wished they could continue what they'd started last night. His hair tied back with a strip of leather, he was dressed in black from head to toe; cargo pants, T-shirt, a windbreak jacket, and work boots. "I don't recall meeting anyone named Tigz. Who is he?"

  "My B-F-F." A smile curved Rena's lips. "Typical male, he comes and goes when he pleases."

  Blue grabbed a coffee, snarling into the cup. "Where the hell was he last night when you needed him?"

  "Who knows? Like I said, he's real hard to pin down." She shut the bathroom door before Natasha could beat her to the shower.

  "Stubborn." Blue downed his coffee, crumpled the cup and tossed it in the wastebasket. He eyed Skip, ignoring her completely. "Don't leave Rena alone. I’ll be back later. Fool woman needs a goddamn babysitter."

  "I'll handle Rena." Natasha locked gazes with her CO. While she might be walking with a limp, she could still hold her own. "She's my responsibility."

  "Oh, yeah? Then I'll watch your back." Skip caught her arm, demanding her full attention. "You're shuffling like an old lady this morning. I'd order you to stay put if I thought you'd listen to reason."
/>
  Order me off the job and stop me from finding my brother? I don't think so. "I'll be dressed and ready to roll just as soon as I shower."

  "Skip's right...no heroics, Nat." Blue unwrapped one of the breakfast sandwiches and headed for the door. "Keep your eyes and ears open. That's it. We'll go back tonight. See what Deuce is up to when no one else is around."

  "Yes sir." She snapped a salute Blue's way and rolled her eyes. The testosterone in the room was stifling.

  Oblivious to her theatrics, a grimace tightened his jaw. "And find out who Tigz is, so I can pound the asshole."

  "Blue? Call me crazy, but is there something going on between you and Rena?" A bold question, Natasha knew. But her CO was behaving out of character. "First you treated her like a whore, and now you seem worried about her. What gives?"

  "Is it a crime because I don't want to see her hurt?" He scowled, clearly not amused by the question. It surprised Natasha he bothered to give her an answer at all. "I don't want to bring her home to meet Mom, if that's what you're asking. But, while I might be a hard ass, I don't enjoy seeing any woman abused. Hell, she has bruises all over her after last night."

  Skip wheeled the pickup into the parking lot at Trailblazer's and rolled to a halt. Rain danced across the roof and pinged off asphalt as he hopped out and jogged around to the passenger side. Turning up his collar, he suppressed a shudder. The north wind swooped down from the Rockies carrying the scent of snow. Another month and they'd be buried in it. Hopefully he could wrap this up and hit the beach in Maui before too long. He was due some vacation time and hated winter.

  "It's not too late, Tas. I can take you back to the hotel."

  Natasha eased herself out of the vehicle, determination in her gaze. "I won't find Zach sitting in bed and watching pay-per-view. Let's get this done."

  She wore work boots that gave her foot better support than the Velcro boot, but her limp was obvious when she picked up the pace and hobbled to the shelter of the building. The door swung wide. Deuce grabbed Natasha's elbow and helped her over the threshold.