Over the next few hours, Finn watched motorcycles come and go. He recognized some of the bikes from the Broken Spoke, matching the riders with the distinctive paint jobs.
An impromptu fight started in the middle of the compound over some real or imagined slight, the shoving match defused by a case of beer. Next came a catfight between two women brawling over a biker, who stood and laughed as they clawed at each other in the dirt.
What he did not see were cars full of drugs running in and out of the building.
Finn frowned, fearing the theory he’d formed was true.
The Wolf wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t keep large amounts of his product so close at hand and risk his own members dipping into it and reducing the profits.
If the gang had two sites, that would complicate matters. He couldn’t monitor both locations, much less keep watch twenty-four hours a day. One option was to pull Ace or Wyatt from guarding Robby, but that’d put the unconscious man at risk. It was also a waste of manpower to have someone sit in a vehicle near the biker hangout with the sole task of watching the compound—along with upping the odds of being made by the bikers if he hung around too long.
Good thing he’d come prepared for this.
Finn opened the small case on the seat next to him, revealing two of Trey’s hand-sized drones. The little machines were useful for a variety of tasks, one of which was remote surveillance when you couldn’t risk a stakeout. He planned to put one on the roof with the camera pointed at the front of the compound, giving him a constant live feed of what was going on. Trey could monitor it from his workstation at the Playground and alert him if anything suspicious showed up like, say, a car filled with contraband.
The drone could also help him verify this was only the clubhouse and not the processing plant. Finn doubted he could just walk up and ask to take a guided tour.
He moved a few blocks away before getting out of his truck with the drone and the controller. It took a few minutes to reorient himself with the joysticks and then do a flyover of the warehouse.
He might not have Trey’s mad skills, but he could at least maneuver a drone around a field. Or a building, in this case.
He glanced at his laptop screen.
The image resolved, showing what the tiny camera was seeing as it hovered over the roof. Finn flew the drone close to the building’s edge, not wanting to draw any attention upward.
The skylight was closed, but he could get the hand-sized drone close enough to scan the inside. A handful of lights were on, illuminating the interior.
A couch. Some mattresses. Bikes in various states of repair. Cases of what he presumed was alcohol. An old-fashioned jukebox with a CD player sitting atop it.
No cars. No tables filled with contraband.
No heroin sitting out in the open waiting to be chopped up into smaller, more portable packets for the street dealers.
He had the answers he wanted—not the ones he liked.
Finn placed the drone on the edge of the roof, pointing the camera toward the front gate.
He tapped the keyboard, sending the live feed to Trey along with a short email detailing where the drone was and what Finn needed. Finished for the time being, he put the controller back in the case and locked it up along with the second drone.
His stomach growled.
Time for a dinner break at one of the best diners in town.
…
“Watch out!”
Skye caught herself before the swinging doors could hit her, as April plowed through from the kitchen with a full tray in each hand.
“Thanks, sweetie.” April shouted as she charged down the aisle. “So glad you could come in today. We really needed the help.”
The tour bus out front explained Julius’s frantic phone call, brushing off her apologies and asking her to get there as soon as possible.
“Hillary’s off sick,” April had explained while Skye scrambled to put on her apron and checked to make sure she had pen and paper. The older waitress made a drinking motion with her hand.
Skye laughed and went out to deal with the overflowing tables of tourists hungry and waiting for service.
Hitting the ground running helped keep her mind off Robby.
And Finn.
She wasn’t given to thinking much about men, not since an unsuccessful relationship during her one and only semester in college. Over the years, she’d had a few one-night stands, quick interludes with no expectations on either side, a simple satisfying of urges and a gentle good-bye in the morning. There weren’t too many men who wanted a woman with a younger brother in tow, and she understood that.
But there was something about Finn that called to her. She wasn’t sure what—they had nothing in common other than their mutual dislike of drug dealers.
Something was there, though. Something…
“Waitress?”
The sharp call jolted her back to reality.
It wasn’t until a good hour later that she had a chance to catch her breath in the back room, snatching a quick break along with a late lunch. The club sandwich was delicious. Julius had added extra bacon and mayo, just the way she liked it.
The owner/cook seemed to always have an extra meal ready for her, using the excuse that he didn’t want her passing out on her feet from hunger—it would reflect badly on the diner. The kindness saved her money and eased some of the strain of keeping the household budget balanced.
Her shoulders ached, and her feet were sore, but for the first time in days, she hadn’t been worrying about Robby non-stop. Finn’s suggestion that she go back to work had been spot on, the distraction a welcome change from sitting in the hospital.
April stuck her head in as Skye started on the second half of the over-stuffed sandwich. The senior waitress had been there for years and had taught her the tricks of the trade.
“Got a new customer on the far-right table. Just came in.”
Skye put her hand to her mouth as she swallowed. “I’m on break. Can you cover?”
“I would, but he asked for you by name. Told him you weren’t available, and he said whenever you were ready, he’d be. Good looking man. You been holding out on me?” The older woman laughed and turned away before Skye could say anything.
She finished her sandwich in record time and headed back out to the front.
Finn sat at the corner table, smiling as he scanned the menu.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered as she pulled out her notepad and pen.
“I do need to eat.” He raised one eyebrow. “I guess you already had dinner.”
“What?” She shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around his arrival.
He leaned forward and swiped his thumb over the edge of her mouth. “I said, I guess you’ve already eaten.”
The soft brush on her skin sent a tremor through her body. She gripped the pen so hard she was afraid she’d snap it in half.
Finn sat down again, licking the mayo off his thumb. “Yum. Can I get an order of whatever you just had?”
She forced herself to scowl. “Aren’t you supposed to be out doing some sort of work?”
“I did. And I am.” He placed his cell phone on the table and stroked the screen. “There’s an app for that.” He spun it around for her to see.
Skye looked at the digital display. “What’s that?”
“The gang’s clubhouse. To be precise, the front of it.” Finn let her study it for a moment before tucking the phone away. “It’s a video feed to see if they bring any of their shipments inside their hideout. I doubt it, but we’re watching all the same.”
“How did you do that?” She was half horrified he’d taken such a risk and half thrilled he’d managed to do it.
“Trey has some nice toys, and he lets me use them every once in a while. Me, I’m more of a hands-on man. Not that there’s anything wrong with toys…” He paused, just long enough to set her imagination on fire.
“Now what would you suggest I eat?” He picked up the me
nu, seemingly oblivious to the tease he’d tossed out. “I’m craving something delicious. Your recommendations?”
She closed her eyes, feeling heat burn her cheeks.
…
Finn hadn’t intended to tease her. But when she had come over with that dab of mayo on the edge of her mouth, he’d gotten hard immediately, visions clouding his mind and stirring his desire.
He’d wanted to lick away that smear and keep on going, to clear the table with a sweep of his arm and shred her uniform as he devoured her right there, right then.
“I can recommend the club sandwich,” she said, eyes fixed on her notepad. “Just had one myself. Filled me right up.”
“Really? Well, then. I’ll have one.” Finn grinned as she realized her faux pas. She beat a hasty retreat, disappearing into the back to put in his order. He’d have to be content with the sandwich for now. Plenty of time to travel that other road after he took Smith down.
Skye returned a few minutes later with his soft drink, heaped high with ice cubes. Finn immediately fished one out and crushed it between his teeth, drawing her scathing stare.
“That’s bad for your teeth.”
He chomped the ice chip in half, his mouth open, daring her to rebuke him.
She sighed and walked back to the counter, waving away a curious look from an older waitress, who was busy wrapping forks and knives in paper napkins, slapping paper bands around them to hold the bundles together.
Skye came back out with a club sandwich, the thick-stacked meat and cheese pulling his attention away from watching the other waitress at work.
“Thank you.” He wondered if he could ask her to sit with him.
“Don’t,” she warned, seeming to read his mind. “I’m working here.” She shot a look at the other waitress who kept glancing over at them. “Sitting with the customers is pretty well a non-starter.”
“Okay.” Finn nodded. “I’ll see you later at the apartment.”
Skye nodded before placing a bill face-down on the table. “Pay at the cash register, please. Thank you for coming in.” She gave him a generic smile before going back into the kitchen.
Finn flashed back to Robby, unconscious and lying in his hospital bed.
I’ll do right by you and your sister.
He attacked the sandwich, thinking of his next move.
…
It was impossible to avoid April’s interrogation.
“He’s an old family friend who came into town because of Robby. He’s helping out while I try to get things settled down.” Skye leaned against the counter.
April scooped ice cubes into the drink glasses, preparing an order. “That’s good. You sleeping with him?”
She gasped. “What? No. Of course, not.”
“Okay. Your loss. But don’t tell me he’s not interested.” April began filling the glasses, sticking them under the various drink dispensers. “I saw the way he was looking at you. He’s totally edible. If you don’t get into a ‘friends with benefits’ deal with him, let me know. I’ll cougar the hell out of him.”
Before she could think of an appropriate response, the bell went off and Julius poked his head out from the kitchen. “You two ready to get to work?” The large African-American grinned at Skye. “I swear, she saved it all up until you got back. All the gossip, all the chattering like a magpie.”
“Shush,” April said as she loaded up her tray with the drinks and headed out with a wide grin. “She’s got a man on the line, and I’m trying to see if she’s going to catch and release.”
“Robby…” Skye protested.
Julius laughed, a deep belly roll. “I’ll have to check this guy out. Don’t want him upsetting one of my best waitresses by breaking her heart.”
Skye groaned into her hands. This was nothing like she’d thought would happen when she took that damned business card from Pat.
She grabbed the hot plates from the kitchen and headed out, careful not to look in Finn’s direction.
The next time Skye glanced over, he was gone. She went to his table and found a twenty-dollar tip tucked under the near-empty drink glass.
She swore under her breath even as she tucked the money away.
Chapter Seven
“Nothing so far on the surveillance. Lots of individual action, bikers coming and going, but no obvious drug trafficking.” Trey’s voice came out of the laptop speakers. “You’re right—it’s likely they’ve got other locations.”
Finn nodded at the screen. He’d returned to the apartment after his late lunch and set up his laptop on the coffee table.
“Got you some more information. When Smith took control of the gang, he hooked up with the Calleros down south. That’s where they’re getting their heroin.”
Finn let out a low whistle. “Damn. I’ve heard about the Calleros. They’re nasty ones. If they catch anyone stealing from them, they cut their hands off and let them bleed out in the middle of the desert, the severed hands sitting on their chest.”
“Perfect partners for the Wolf. He took the gang to Whistling Willows to provide a link for the supply chain from Mexico. Shipments go from the town, to Los Angeles or Las Vegas, to points wherever, via smaller fish. They’re making money hand over fist, and they won’t give up easily.” He paused. “When do you plan to put the tracers on them?”
“Later on tonight.”
“Be careful,” Trey warned. “Those tracers are good, but they won’t protect you if someone tags you for an undercover cop.”
“Duly noted,” Finn replied. “I’m sure my papers will hold up if needed.”
“They will,” Trey said. “I’m not putting Trotter on your tombstone.”
Finn smiled. “I’ll be careful.”
“Good. How’s Skye doing?”
“She’s fine.” It was hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep her out of the line of fire.”
“Okay. Just checking. She came here looking for help to kill a man—hard to think she’ll give up on that idea too easily.” Trey frowned. “We good? You got a beef with me, we should get it out in the open before things go hot.”
“We’re good. I’m just tired. Talk to you later.” Finn closed the link.
…
Skye was past exhausted by the time she made it back to the apartment just after eleven o’clock. After her shift, she’d gone to the hospital and sat by Robby’s side for an hour, holding his hand and telling him she’d get justice for what the gang had done.
What the Wolf had done.
Skye jabbed at the lock with her key.
The key slid home, and she pushed the door open.
“Hey.” Finn glanced up from where he was sitting on the couch. He closed his laptop. “How’s Robby doing?”
“He’s stable. The doctor said every day he’s still alive is a good sign. They’re considering taking him out of the medical coma and letting him wake up.” She rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“I was about to go out when I heard you coming in,” he said.
Skye sat down on the couch beside him. She sank into the cushions, the past day’s events finally taking their toll. Words rushed out of her, exhaustion keeping her from any attempt to control or censor them.
“I need to ask you a question, but I want you to understand I’m grateful for all your help so far. I really am.”
“But…”
“While I was sitting with Robby, I thought things over.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand why you’re helping me. This isn’t your town. This isn’t your family. This isn’t your fight. I can’t pay you thousands of dollars, and I don’t have any political connections to give favors, no skills to offer.” She spread her hands. “I’ve got nothing.”
“That’s why we formed the Brotherhood.” He frowned. “I thought Jessie would have explained this to you. It’s what we do—help those who have nowhere else to turn.”
“She did. And I appreciate it, more than you’ll e
ver know. But the way you glared at Dylan when he said he was sending you, the way you stared at Robby in the hospital…” She touched his arm. “It’s more than a job to you, isn’t it? Not just another assignment. The way you speak, the way you act—this is personal, isn’t it?”
His muscles stiffened under her touch, but he didn’t pull away. “Dylan knew I’d be the best one for this job because I know what it’s like to have to deal with something like this.” He looked at her. “The confusion, the guilt. The pain. I know it all.”
“You don’t have to tell me if it’s too much,” she offered. “It’s enough to know I’m not alone. That someone gets what I’m feeling. What I’m thinking.”
“No.” He shook his head. “If we’re going to do this, I should tell you where I’m coming from, where I’ve been. Maybe it’ll help you with Robby.” He hesitated. “Maybe it’ll help me.”
She waited, giving him as much space as he wanted and needed.
“I was on patrol in Afghanistan when I got a call from home. My mother…” He halted, swallowing hard.
She reached up and cupped his cheek, feeling the tension in his jaw.
“Let me start at the beginning.” He cleared his throat. “My father died of cancer when I was young, so it was only my mother and me. She was always there for me, always a safe place to fall when I’d had a bad time.” A hint of a smile appeared at the memories. “She worked hard at a local department store. Too hard. Before I left on my latest tour, she had a bad fall, twisted up her back. Doctor put her on some strong painkillers, and she took a few weeks off work. She told me she’d be fine, told me to get back out there and do my job.” He hesitated. “I wasn’t around when the pills took over her life. She lost her job and kept it a secret from me, from her friends. When the doctor cut her off, she went to the street, buying anything that would take the pain away. She bounced from one drug to another until she hit the end of the line. Heroin.”
Skye watched him, her hand still pressed against his scar.
His voice dropped to a whisper. “Neighbor went to check on her one day, bringing in the mail to help out. He found her unconscious in the living room, needle sticking out of her arm. Whoever had sold the drugs to her hadn’t cut it enough, so when she took her usual dosage, it blew her system apart like a land mine. The paramedics rushed her in the hospital. They gave her everything they had. She held on for a day, but by the time I got back to the States, she was dead.”
Hard Run (Delta Force Brotherhood) Page 5