Burnout: A Legal Heat Novella

by Sarah Castille

  Already disillusioned with the life he’d chosen, he didn’t need yet another reminder that the club was heading in a direction he didn’t want to go, a path leading directly away from the pretty cop with the kick-ass attitude who had rocked his fucking world in bed.

  He strapped his holster across his chest and shrugged on his cut, scrambling to find some common ground. “Sometimes we work on the same side, especially when there’s justice called for that the system can’t provide.” Ryder had sold him on the new club with promises of filling in the holes in the system, and vigilante justice. His dreams spoke to the boy in Ace who had fallen through the cracks and the man who had found a family at Hades, only to lose them all over again.

  “What does that mean?” She twisted her hair into a bun and pinned it back.

  “Mafia don is kidnapped and held for ransom, his family will come to us. A girl wants out of prostitution but is afraid of her pimp; we’ll step in and teach him a lesson. A woman’s being stalked by her ex; we’ll pay him a visit. Last month, a boy got beaten up and left for dead. Cops knew who it was but didn’t have any evidence to charge him. Parents came to us. We got justice for that boy.”

  “For a fee.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I hardly think that makes you a Good Samaritan.”

  “We all gotta eat, babe.” He crossed the room and cupped her cheek, tracing her soft lips with the pad of his thumb. She didn’t pull away as he expected. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

  “We can’t meet again. You know that.”

  He leaned closer and pressed his lips to her temple, drinking in the heady floral fragrance of her damp skin as he mused over the irony. Usually, those words came from his lips. Usually, he was the one walking away.

  “Say the word, and you’ll never see me again.”

  A blush spread across her cheeks, and Ace smiled. He liked that he could make a cop blush.

  “Good-bye, Ace.”

  Chapter Five

  “So, how was the party?”

  Gary, her new partner, waited until Sophie had clipped on her seat belt before pulling away from the curb. She looked back over her shoulder, but there was no sign of the Harley Softail that had been parked on the road only moments ago.

  “Um…it was okay. Jason has some unusual friends.” She told him about the pierced bartender and the woman with the tatted breasts. Gary laughed. He had a nice laugh, deep and rumbly, and a warm smile. Not that she had any interest in Gary. She’d first met him when she’d flown into Vancouver for the transfer interview. Gary had picked her up at the airport and taken her for a drink after the interview was finished. At six foot one and weighing only one hundred and eighty pounds, prematurely balding, with long, spindly arms and legs, he reminded her of a grasshopper. But what he lacked in bulk, he made up for in social skills. He knew everyone, from the cleaners at the station to the parking attendants, and from the waitresses at the bar to at least half the customers. As far as she could tell, everyone liked Gary. He was everybody’s best friend.

  “There were some bikers there.” She feigned a yawn, hoping she appeared nonchalant. “Rogue Riders. Do you know them?”

  Gary turned onto Granville Street. “Everyone knows them. Most of their guys used to be with an outlaw MC called Hades, but Hades got taken down by an undercover cop, James Hunter, and then decimated in a territorial war. When the dust settled, some of the Hades guys formed their own club. Hunter quit the police and joined them. Took the road name Ice. Caused quite the scandal.”

  “So they’re bad guys?”

  “Well…” Gary scrubbed a hand through his short blond hair. “They do some good stuff, like rescuing hostages and cleaning up the streets. But then we’ll find a guy we’ve been chasing hanging upside down from the Burrard Street Bridge, all beat up with a knife through his chest. We can’t condone that kind of vigilante justice, but so long as they don’t make it too public, we’ve turned a blind eye.” He hesitated. “I’ve heard rumours though…”

  “What rumours?” She leaned toward him, focused, intent.

  “That they’ve moved away from the vigilante stuff and into more serious crime—protection rackets, fraud, extortion, that sort of thing. So far, they’ve stayed clean, so they aren’t under investigation like the other one-percenter clubs, but I think it’s just a matter of time. Once you cross the line, it’s a slippery slope, and it takes you down fast.”

  “Who’s the president?”

  “Guy named Ryder. Hunter is his VP. They’ve got a sergeant-at-arms who keeps order in the club and makes sure everyone follows the rules, name of Ace. They also have an enforcer and a couple other guys with official titles. Club’s got about fifty or sixty members now, so their executive board keeps things in check.”

  Sergeant-at-arms. Enforces the rules. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

  Reports of assaults, thefts, drunks, and vagrants kept them busy all day. Every free moment, Sophie texted Jason to make sure he was okay, but she got no answer. Probably at work. Or not. He hadn’t told her what he really did for a living.

  Back home after her shift, Sophie showered and changed into jeans and a tank top. Grabbing a bag of Doritos, she cleared away some boxes and settled on the couch. Not really a nutritious dinner, but since her TV wasn’t hooked up, she could entertain herself by watching her hips expand. Her body was still deliciously sore from last night. Ace hadn’t seemed to mind her curvy body. In fact, he’d seemed quite enamoured of her ass. He’d even insisted she tuck her ass up against him when, exhausted from hours of sex, they’d finally collapsed on the mattress he’d cleared off when he’d been concerned her knees might get bruised. Ace was hands down the hottest and most interesting man she’d ever met, and she would have liked to get to know him better—personally and carnally.

  A thud on the door startled her. No one could get into the building unless she buzzed them through the front door, and she hadn’t met any of the other tenants.

  “Who is it?” She balled the chip bag and walked over to the door.

  “Ah…”

  She heard whispers and then the smack of flesh hitting flesh.

  “Tuscan Movers. We’re here to…ah…finish the job.”

  Puzzled, she pulled open the door only to step back when a burly man wearing a Tuscan Movers T-shirt was thrust in her face. Sophie recoiled, barely recognizing the mover who had laughed when she’d asked him to finish unpacking her stuff. His face was covered in cuts and bruises, his eyes were black, and his shirt stained red with blood.

  “These the guys?” Ace shoved the mover forward, and turned to grab another man behind him, similarly beaten, and shove him forward, too.

  Shocked, Sophie could only stare as Ace, Jackie, Kickstand, and two other Rogue Riders followed the movers into her apartment.

  “Sophie.” Ace raised his voice, snapping her back to reality. “Are these the guys who dumped your stuff and walked away?”

  She looked at the two badly beaten movers, pale and quiet now instead of angry and belligerent as they had been the previous day when they walked out on the job. “Yes.”

  “Right. They’re here to finish the job. Kickstand, Slider, Spook, and I are gonna stick around to make sure the job gets done to your satisfaction. Jackie’s here ’cause I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable being alone with so many guys, and since she never shuts up, she’ll keep you entertained.”

  “I heard that,” Jackie snapped, tossing her thick, dark hair over her shoulder. Sophie couldn’t figure out what she was doing breaking into a cop’s home with a bunch of outlaw bikers instead of walking the runways in Paris and Milan.

  “Good,” Ace said. “You were meant to.”

  “But…” Sophie interrupted them. “I filed a complaint.”

  Ace raised an eyebrow. “How long do you think you would have to sit here with your stuff like this if you pursued things through official channels? Forever. That’s how long. My way, the guys show up and finish what they started.
”

  “You can’t just kidnap people and force them to work,” Sophie snapped. “It’s against the law.”

  Ace snorted. “We’re an outlaw club, babe. We don’t acknowledge the authority of civilian law. Sometimes it gets in the way of justice, and that’s what I’m giving you now.”

  “Justice?” She pulled him to one side while two of the bikers directed the movers to lift the mattress she and Ace had slept on last night. “They’re obviously here under duress. I’m a cop. I can’t condone illegal activities going on in my home while I’m standing right here.”

  Ace stroked his chin and nodded. “Right. We’ll go to the Roadhouse. Get a drink. Then you won’t be standing here. You’ll be sitting somewhere else. And as for duress…” He looked over at the movers and bellowed. “Tuscans! My girl wants to know if you’re here of your own free will. If you’re unsure about the answer to that question, Kickstand and Slider can help you out.”

  The Tuscans looked at each other, then from Kickstand and bald, pierced, and tatted Slider behind them, to Ace, and back to each other. They blanched, and then nodded.

  “You just threatened them,” Sophie growled.

  “Did you hear me threaten them? Did you see me lift a hand or make any kind of threatening gesture?”

  “This is ridiculous.” She stalked toward the door. “I want them out of here. Now.”

  Ace came up behind her and bent down to nuzzle her neck. “Babe. Me and the Tuscans have an understanding. They aren’t leaving until the job is done. And it’s not like they weren’t contracted to do the job. I didn’t pull random people off the street and force them to work. They owe you the time. Give them a chance to do the right thing.”

  Her brain fuzzed as the touch of his lips on her sensitive skin sent a wave of electric sparks through her body. She leaned her forehead against the door and sighed. “I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this. And if Jason hadn’t stood me up tonight and left me without anyone to help move the furniture, I would have said no.”

  Ace stroked a soothing hand down her hair. “You haven’t heard from Jason?”

  “Not since last night. After I told him about the movers, he promised to come tonight and help me out. But I couldn’t get in touch with him all day, and he never showed.”

  Ace’s hand stilled and he pulled out his phone. “I’ll send someone by his place. Check things out.”

  Sophie turned to face him. “You seem to have unlimited resources at your disposal.”

  “They’re called prospects, and they’re useful for doing all sorts of things from polishing my boots to getting me beer to watching the bikes.” He reached around her and pulled open the door. “So…we going for that drink? Jackie and Kickstand can join us, and Spook and Slider will text us when the Tuscans are done.”

  “Is this the same kind of choice you offered the Tuscans?”

  Ace threw back his head and laughed. “Babe, if I offered you the same choice I offered the Tuscans, you’d put a bullet through my head.”

  “Thought about it.” She pushed past him and into the kitchen to grab her purse. “Decided I didn’t want to get blood on my new floor.”

  “Much appreciated.” He waved for Jackie and Kickstand to join them, and Sophie leaned against the wall while they gave some last-minute instructions to Slider and his almost twin, Spook.

  “By the way,” she said, toying with the hem of her shirt. “I thought I made it clear, it was just one night.”

  “Nope.”

  “Nope?”

  “One night wasn’t enough.” He brushed her hair back, tucking a wayward strand behind her ear, and a delicious shiver wound its way up her spine.

  “What if I wanted it to be just one night?” He was so close she could feel the heat from his body, the warmth of his breath on her skin. “What if I’ve just made it through a bad divorce, and I’m just not interested in anything more than casual sex?”

  Ace’s fingers lingered on her neck, gently caressing her skin. Sophie’s mouth went dry, and a flush of desire raced through her veins.

  “I’m okay with that, babe. Me’n relationships don’t seem to work out too good.”

  Her tension eased the tiniest bit. “Good to hear. My ex tried to kill me when I filed for divorce, so I’m pretty much done with relationships, too.”

  His hand tightened on her shoulder in a vice-like grip. “Is the bastard dead? He’d better be fucking dead—”

  “He’s in jail.”

  “Which jail?”

  Sophie’s lips quivered in a smile. “Why do you want to know? He was caught, tried, and convicted. Justice was served.” Although, fear still niggled at the back of her mind. Ryan was a smooth talker, a manipulator. She had no doubt he would say the right things and grease the right palms until he got early parole. And then he would come for her. But this time no one would be able to save her.

  He waved a hand vaguely over the sweating movers. “Pretty clear your idea of justice and mine aren’t the same.”

  “I suppose not.” Did Ace really have the power to hurt Ryan in jail? Could she condone that type of action? For the last year, she had relived the night of Ryan’s attack over and over in her mind. His sudden appearance in her bedroom in the middle of the night. The frantic pounding of her heart. Sheer and absolute terror sucking the breath from her lungs. The training that kicked in and had her reaching for the gun on her nightstand. And her inability to pull the trigger.

  The stupidness of love.

  Ryan was possessive, but not protective. He would get angry if she talked to another man, but not if she walked alone at night. So different from Ace. But she didn’t want to drag him into her nightmare of self-loathing. One night. That’s all this was supposed to be. “I’m sorry. Just forget about it. I don’t know why I told you all that. I hardly know you. I didn’t mean to dump—”

  “Shhhh.” He stroked his thumb softly over her lips.

  “Shhhh?”

  “When I got you soft and sweet and lying in my arms, you’re gonna tell me everything from the beginning, real slow, and I’m gonna hold you while you do. Then I’ll deal with him.”

  “You’ll deal with him?” Her voice rose in pitch. “You don’t know anything about him, Ace. Or me, for that matter. You don’t want to get involved.”

  “I am involved. Not complaining, babe. Just stating a fact. Seems to me justice wasn’t done right if he’s still breathing.”

  Sophie melted inside and turned away so he couldn’t see the tears gather in her eyes. She’d longed for justice even after Ryan had been put in jail. He’d managed to hire a good lawyer who had ripped her apart in court and convinced the judge to turn away key pieces of evidence. After all Ryan had done—the affairs, the lies, the heartache and betrayal, and the assault—he’d only been sentenced to three years in jail. Yeah, she wanted justice. Real justice. She’d never thought it would be offered up to her on a handsome-outlaw-biker platter.

  “What about our conflict?”

  Ace made a lazy perusal of her body, his gaze coming to rest on her face. “Only conflict we have is if you don’t go change your clothes. The Roadhouse is not the kinda place you want to be showing off those curves.”

  He liked her curves. She couldn’t hear it enough. But it didn’t mean he could tell her what to wear. “Not changing.”

  Ace frowned. “Yes, changing.”

  “We’re not together.” She sidled past him and joined Jackie and Kickstand at the door.

  He came up behind her and slid an arm around her waist, jerking her back against him. Sophie sucked in a sharp breath, shocked by his sudden intensity and the rush of heat between her legs.

  “And if we were?” The deep rumble of his voice vibrated through her body.

  “You still wouldn’t get to tell me what to do.”

  With a growl, he threaded his hand through her hair and tugged her head to the side, baring her neck to the burn of his lips. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

 
; * * *

  “So…what does your new little squeeze do for a living…besides you, of course?” Jackie leaned back in her seat in the Roadhouse Bar and grinned at Ace. “And talk fast. ’Cause I’m all sorts of curious about Sophie, and we only have a few minutes before she returns from the restroom or else gets lost in the dark.” She brushed a few crumbs off the worn wooden table and sighed. “This place gets gloomier every time we come here. Maybe they’re trying to hide the fact they never clean.”

  Ace looked around at the chipped dark wood, stained carpets, and tiny stage. “They serve proper Guinness. That’s all I care about.” He sipped the foam off his pint and took a moment to enjoy the thick, bitter taste of his favourite Irish beer.

  “It’s got rickety tables, holes in the walls, twenty-year-old paintings of dead rock stars, and a DJ who doesn’t know the difference between Death Metal and Thrash.” Jackie folded her arms. “But you aren’t putting me off. Now spill.”

  “She’s a cop.”

  Jackie spluttered. “Jesus Christ, Ace. You hooked up with a cop? Your activities aren’t exactly Grade A certified legit. She see your weapon?”

  Ace raised an eyebrow and Jackie snickered. “Okay. I mean, you wouldn’t have dragged the Terrible Tuscan Twins out on a Sunday night if you hadn’t shown her your weapon and she hadn’t approved of what you were packing.” She paused to sip her beer and then frowned. “I gotta say I’m a bit disappointed because I think I made it pretty clear that I would have welcomed a visual when we were hanging out. I mean, that night we had together out at the racetrack was fun, but it was dark and I would have liked to see—”

  “Jackie…”

  “And you’re clearly in dress-to-impress mode since you’re wearing jeans without holes in them. You must think she’s something special.”

  “Jackie…”

  “Although you did only just meet her yesterday,” she continued. “And I don’t think you ever put on non-holey jeans for me….”

  “Enough.” His hand tightened around the glass so hard his knuckles turned white. Jackie never knew when to quit.