Hard Run (Delta Force Brotherhood)

by Sheryl Nantus

“All hell breaks loose.” With a Code Red, every member of the Brotherhood, as well as their associates, deployed with the sole purpose of bringing a fellow warrior home.

  “I don’t like it.” Skye shook her head. “Are you sure there’s no other way around this?”

  “No.” It came out sharper than he wanted.

  She pulled back, frowning. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not you,” he said quickly, trying to make amends. “I don’t like to think about the mission going sideways. It’s a luck thing.” He forced a smile. “Like those rabbit’s feet you can buy at every shop in Vegas. Not so lucky for the rabbit.”

  “I just don’t want to think about what could happen, what could…” She sighed. “I don’t know if I could take losing you and Robby.”

  “Hey.” Finn drew one finger along her cheek. “This is just a precaution. I want you to know this in case something happens—we always prepare for if something goes wrong. It’s not a forecast. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I can take care of myself. I’ve been on dangerous missions before, and I’ve always come back.”

  “So far.”

  The whispered reply dug into his heart.

  “Promise me.” He locked eyes with her. “Promise me you’ll do this.”

  Skye pressed her lips into a tight line before continuing. “Okay. I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.” A flash of anger came into her eyes, one he knew all too well from his own experience. “If something happens to you I’ll see to it Smith goes down.”

  “You call Dylan. You follow his lead and do as he says.” Finn put as much force into his voice as he dared. “I’m counting on you to do the right thing. Promise me you won’t go after Smith on your own, no matter what.” He cupped her cheek. “If you care for me, please promise.”

  She paused for a second then nodded.

  …

  A few hours later, Finn checked his image in the rearview mirror again, hoping he looked like a man strapped for cash.

  He’d returned to the Broken Spoke, the bar where he’d placed the trackers on the gang members. It was after midnight, and the parking lot was full of motorcycles.

  Time to set the trap and see who would bite.

  He rubbed the day-old stubble on his chin. The identification Trey had manufactured for him was good and would hold up under scrutiny. If the bikers checked him out, they’d find a man with a few run-ins with the law and a dishonorable discharge from the army, making him prime recruitment material.

  He just needed to prove he was a guy who would do anything for money.

  Finn studied himself in the rearview mirror. The dark circles under his eyes and the strained look on his face weren’t just for show. This was where it could go wrong really fast, a slip of the tongue or an angry biker taking his frustration out on the nearest target.

  He hadn’t been joking when he told Skye to bolt for the nightclub if he disappeared for twenty-four hours. If his cover was blown, she’d become a target, and he didn’t want to think about that. It was hard enough to detach himself emotionally from the job.

  He pushed Finn Storm into a box.

  Finn Trotter didn’t have a woman in his life.

  He rolled the name around in his mouth, sliding into the role he needed to break the Wolf’s Teeth.

  Finn Trotter was an asshole.

  Well, at least he’d been typecast in that role.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The bar was a little less crowded tonight due to the lack of a live band. Sunday nights seemed to be a bit quieter in Whispering Willows. A large number of gang members sat at the bar, drinking the cheap draft and making crude jokes about the female bartender.

  He spotted the older biker he’d tagged first, sitting at the bar nursing a beer. Finn moved in beside him again and ordered a beer.

  The biker gave him the side eye but said nothing, too busy studying his cell phone. Finn didn’t try to look over and see what he was doing—that would be a bit too obvious.

  He also suspected it’d start one hell of a fight.

  Finn drank half of his beer before looking at the man. “So, you get lucky with the ladies that other night?”

  The older man smirked. “Of course.” He put his phone face-down on the varnished wood. “Few of them say no when one of us ask.” He reached up and touched the vest. “Always give ’em a good ride. Never gotten any complaints.”

  Finn grinned. “I hear you. The ladies do like the leather.”

  The bartender came around again. “Another?” The redhead studied Finn, waiting for an answer.

  He made a face then held up the glass. “This the cheapest you got?”

  The bartender smiled. “The cheapest isn’t something you’d like to drink, but I can get you some if you like.”

  Finn screwed his face up into a mournful look before shaking his head. “No thanks.” Finn gave her a wistful smile. “I’m good for now.”

  As she moved off the biker grunted. “Don’t take it personal. Damn prices go up every time we pull in. They know we’re going to drink our fill, and they’re going to make us pay for it.” He shook his head. “But the music is good, and they don’t mind if we break a chair or two.” He lifted his near-full glass and took a sip.

  Finn nodded and waited.

  This wasn’t something he could rush. Slow and steady contact with this man could earn his way into the gang’s trust and hopefully into a job.

  What he wouldn’t give to be with Skye, her legs wrapped around his waist as he slid in and out of her, his pulse racing with each little gasp.

  The way she trembled just before…

  Finn forced his attention back to the task at hand. He grabbed the beer and drank, ignoring the curious look from the biker beside him.

  It was going to be a long night.

  …

  It was three-thirty in the morning.

  The last time Skye checked the clock it had been three-fifteen. She rolled over and stared at the ceiling.

  She’d slept alone for most of her life. Now she couldn’t manage a single night without Finn beside her, his hand gripping her waist or his hand slipping between her legs with unerring aim.

  She was annoyed at herself as much as she was scared.

  They were about to poke the hornet’s nest with a very big stick.

  She studied the cracks on the ceiling, following the thin lines across the top of the room and imagining various shapes and creatures. It didn’t make her feel any safer, but she needed something to keep her mind off Finn and Robby.

  The familiar sound of a key in the front door reached her, and she froze.

  The door opened, and she heard a series of knocks—three in a row, a missed beat, then three more.

  The pre-arranged signal they’d agreed on in case someone else got hold of his keys.

  “If you’re awake, it’s me. Don’t call the cops.” There was no humor in his words, just a weariness she knew all too well from working long hours.

  Finn appeared in her doorway. She could smell the tobacco and beer coming off him, the stale smell assaulting her nose.

  “Let me catch a shower, and I’ll be right in.” He gave her a wink. “I’m not quite ready to go to sleep yet.”

  Skye returned his smile and laughed.

  …

  The next morning, she showered and headed out to the truck stop. She opened it up at eight sharp, expecting it would be quiet during the weekdays, much like it had been on her Sunday shifts.

  The first thing she had done up was to go straight to the security cameras set behind the counter and plug in the small box Finn had given her, following the instructions on the page. As soon as the green light went on, she let out a sigh of relief.

  It not only kept the cameras on day and night, but sent the feed straight to Trey, who now had three different observation angles on the gang’s comings and goings.

  She had no doubt at some point they’d be able to turn it into evidence that could be used to put t
hem away.

  Early this morning, she’d left a sleeping Finn in bed. He woke up just long enough to kiss her good-bye before closing his eyes and drifting off again.

  He had his job and she had hers—keep the truck stop going and keep their cover alive.

  The adrenaline wore off around ten. She had a shift at the diner at noon, and unlike Edward, she didn’t have Annie to come and give her a break.

  So when Finn’s truck came rolling into the parking lot not long after eleven o’clock, Skye suppressed her desire to rush out waving her arms in the air in delight.

  He came in carrying a take-out bag, grinning widely. “Figured you’d like something to eat before you went to work, in case you don’t get an early break. Don’t want you stealing fries off the customers’ plates.”

  She caught a whiff of the hamburger and fries. “Is that from Julius?”

  “The one and only.” Finn laughed. “I didn’t tell them it was for you. Might be why April tossed in the extra pickles on the side. Lady’s a bit sweet on me.”

  Skye didn’t rise to the bait. “She’s into charity.” She took the bag from him and quickly unpacked it, her mouth watering.

  “Anyone come by yet?”

  She knew that “anyone” meant “gang members.”

  “No. Not yet,” she mumbled through a mouthful of beef and bun. “I don’t expect them to. They’re keeping the same hours you are, late to bed and late to rise. Unlike the rest of us working folk, who believe in an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay.”

  Finn grinned at her. “You’ve been here alone too long. Edward is rubbing off on you something awful.” He kissed her, hard and deep. “Eat, then go to work. I’ll stay here until midnight and lock up.”

  “Are you sure?” She licked her fingers clean of sauce. “I can come back after my shift.”

  “Yes.” Finn leaned on the counter. “I got some sleep; I’ll be fine. And you need the rest if you’re coming back tomorrow morning to open up.” He hesitated. “I’m going straight to the club after we close here, probably be late again. Don’t wait up.”

  Skye nodded. “I’ll explain to Julius that I won’t be able to take any more shifts for a few weeks. I’m off tomorrow except for cleaning the real estate offices in the evening. Three times a week with them, but otherwise I’m all yours.”

  “Good.” He leaned in and kissed her. “See you later.”

  …

  For Skye, the days blurred into a routine of sleep, shifts at her various jobs, and hospital visits when she could spare the time.

  There was always time for Finn.

  Most nights, he’d roll in late at night and curl around her, his hair still wet from the shower, and kiss her neck before drifting off. Sometimes she’d come home to find steaks grilled to perfection.

  But that wasn’t the best of it.

  One morning he came to her at the hospital not long after she arrived, flourishing a well-worn copy of Sherlock Holmes he’d plucked off Robby’s bookcase. He settled into the chair opposite her and read to her brother.

  She’d held Robby’s hand as Finn went through the first chapter, his low, strong voice caressing the words as if it were her skin, leaving her with goose bumps by the end.

  “I’ll read the second chapter to you tomorrow, Robby. Right now, your sister’s going to work. And I need a nap.”

  It’d taken all she had not to cry until she got into the parking lot with Finn. He held her for a few minutes, dropping kisses into her hair until she pulled it together.

  “He’ll be fine,” Finn murmured. “Just waiting for the right time to come back.”

  She sniffled then smiled as she wiped her face and kissed him before they parted.

  He kept surprising her with little bits of himself, a slow slide into her daily life.

  …

  It wasn’t against the rules.

  The Brotherhood didn’t have a lot of rules, to be honest—they’d figured out the basic ones back when they’d come together with a single goal, to help those who needed it. There wasn’t anything in their unwritten code forbidding getting personally involved with anyone along the way. Hell, Jessie and Dylan were perfect examples of how an assignment could turn into something much, much more.

  He just never thought it’d happen to him.

  A few days after beginning his reading marathon at the hospital he arrived back at the apartment, reeking of smoke and beer to see her sitting on the couch shuffling cards, an evil look in her eyes.

  “What are you still doing up?” He glanced at his watch. “It’s after two in the morning.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.” She put the cards down and stretched her arms high over her head, the thin blouse rising to expose her bare midriff. “Thinking too much. I thought you might like to do something other than eat and watch television.”

  “I like to do plenty of other things,” he’d murmured. “And you know I love to snack between meals.” He raised one eyebrow, dragging his gaze down her body.

  Her cheeks reddened, stoking his desire. She held firm, though, holding out the deck of cards.

  “You’re from Vegas. How about a card game?”

  He settled on the couch next to her. “I guess strip poker would be too obvious?”

  She shook her head. “Go Fish. It’s the only game I know.”

  Finn grinned. “And the strip part?”

  She slowly unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it aside to show her white, lacey bra. His mouth went dry as he watched the slow striptease.

  “I thought I’d get a head start.”

  He didn’t win a single hand and was reduced to his socks by the time she laughed and lunged forward, dragging him down on the floor.

  The daily routine continued, Finn studying the video feed daily with Skye joining in when she could. The video showed mostly uninteresting shots of bikers spinning donuts, and drunken brawls almost nightly over real or imagined slights.

  No drug deliveries, no rendezvous at the truck stop. There was plenty of activity at the processing area. The storage unit door would roll up, and one or two men would ride out before it slammed shut again. It was a good bet they were transporting drugs to their local connections, spreading the evil out through her town. Two men were always at the front, armed and ready.

  But still no car.

  The street dealers would be asking for more drugs soon, and the bikers couldn’t afford to lose any customers. They’d have to bring in some new product.

  And the Brotherhood would see it all.

  …

  It was Sunday afternoon again, and she could agree with the Watleys’ shortened schedule—she’d opened up the store at eight and run it until five before shutting down, a welcome change from keeping it open to midnight. She’d refused Finn’s offer of help, leaving him to get a good day’s sleep and catch up on the hours he’d missed with his late bar hours during the week.

  She drummed her fingers on the counter, channeling her nervous energy. She’d mopped the floor, done inventory, and was this close to rearranging the dry goods in alphabetical order. Nothing was happening. Robby wasn’t waking up, and her life was on an indefinite pause. As the clock struck five and she secured the front door, she glanced around, feeling the weight of the world settling again on her shoulders.

  This couldn’t last. On a variety of fronts.

  Finn was lying on the couch watching television when she came in. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, only his jeans with his bare feet hanging off the edge of the furniture. She stared at his chest, her eyes automatically drawn to the tiny white scars dotting his frame. She’d been able to coax only a handful of origin stories out of him, her fingers dancing across the firm muscles as she listened to him detail where and how he’d gotten the injuries.

  She wasn’t in a mood right now for stories.

  He looked at her with a wide smile, a bit of a smirk twirling those delicious lips upward—at any other time it would have sent a blaze of desire rushing through her syst
em. Right now, it was a red flag waving in front of her bullish attitude.

  Skye scowled at him. “Nice to see you taking it easy.” She dumped her purse on the table and went to the kitchen.

  As she poured herself a glass of water, he rolled off the couch and came in, his forehead furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

  Skye drained the glass and refilled it. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Why don’t we call in the state troopers? Get the license plates of the bikers and get them busted if they’re carrying drugs.” She put the glass on the counter, hard enough to slosh water out. “Why aren’t we doing anything?”

  “We are doing something. Sure, we could jump on those guys and get them arrested. But it’s not the end game. We don’t want just them,” Finn replied.

  He sat on one of the stools and watched her with a calm, contented gaze. “Odds are as soon as it got too hot, Smith would move the rest of the gang to another small town, recruit more men, and start the operation all over again. Those guys are holding only enough to supply their dealers. Each of them might get three to five years for carrying with intent to distribute, if that much. Lawyers have a way of picking cases to pieces, and I’m sure the bikers have enough money in their safe to buy themselves a lot of legal advice.” He rubbed his hands together. “We’re greedy. We want to shut them down with a full-court press, take them out all at once.”

  She refilled her glass, her annoyance still too raw to give up. “If there’s a whole lot of drugs inside the storage unit, why don’t we tip off the cops and let them launch a raid?”

  Finn rolled his shoulders back. “No legit reason to do so. Yet. No one’s going to go inside without a search warrant, and to get one you need more evidence than just a suspicious package or two on a video gotten through less-than-official channels. We work inside the law even though it chokes the hell out of us sometimes. We’re going to take them down, but it’s going to be slow and steady.”

  “It’s not going to work.” She shook her head. “Those bastards know something, and they’re screwing with us. They’re stalling, keeping away from the truck stop and not bringing any new shipments in.” Skye drew a deep breath. “Okay. Honest question—how long before you call it off? How long before Dylan decides this isn’t an operation worth continuing?”