Bad Boys of the Night: Eight Sizzling Paranormal Romances: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set

by Jennifer Ashley

  Here he was, putting Zara in grave danger again.

  She leaned in until her lips grazed his ear. “I’ll cloak us.”

  He gave a brusque nod, cursing to himself that yet again, he wasn’t the one protecting her. Almost immediately, energy skated over his skin and he could tell they were invisible.

  “There’s no need to get hostile,” the woman was saying to Rand.

  “I’m not—”

  “Are you refusing to cooperate with Army Intelligence?” It was the man.

  “AIU will not be happy,” the woman said with a sniff. Vince imagined her looking down her nose at Rand.

  Before Rand could answer, the door to the garage opened again.

  “’Scuse me.” It sounded like Shane, one of the technicians. Heavy footsteps came down the hall and stopped just outside the break room.

  Vince willed the man not to push on the door. He and Zara may be cloaked, but they still had mass.

  Shane took two steps inside and glanced round the room. He frowned, as if he’d expected to find them here. He grabbed a sports drink from the refrigerator and turned to go. The drawing pad on the table got his attention. Vince had been sketching a picture of Zara from behind. Shane closed the pad and put it on a stack of magazines near the couch, then strode toward the door. But instead of leaving, he stopped in the doorway and leaned against the doorjamb.

  More footsteps. Rand and the army folks were coming closer.

  “A colossal waste of my time,” Rand muttered.

  Vince peeked through the crack between the door and the frame. He saw Rand go into his office ahead of the two army assholes and give the room a quick glance. He must be looking to make sure Vince and Zara weren’t there, Vince thought.

  “Take a seat inside.” He pointed into his office.

  The woman went in and sat down, but just as the man was passing the break room door, the buzzer on Zara’s cupcakes went off.

  She jumped, hitting the door. It swung outward slightly.

  Vince gripped her hand even tighter.

  The man turned around and looked in this direction. Vince held his breath. Had he seen the door move?

  “What’s that?” The man’s features reminded Vince of a rat’s.

  “I’m making cupcakes,” Shane said, his tone cool and even. “I’d offer you one, but since we weren’t expecting you, I didn’t make enough.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Vince was going stir-crazy. If he sat still any longer, he was liable to implode. The break room at Reckless no longer smelled of cupcakes but of old coffee, cigarettes, and a tinge of BO—not his at least. He’d been showering twice, sometimes three times a day since he’d gotten here.

  He stood and paced. Rand and two of his guys sat at the table, staring at a computer screen where a satellite image map was displayed.

  “You’re a fucking genius,” Rand said to Vince.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, save your accolades in case it turns out to be a bust.”

  Rand shook his head. “Not gonna happen. This is golden.”

  “You think?” Vince asked, hardly able to keep from grinning.

  Rand swiveled in his chair, chewing on his toothpick. “Listen. With the army essentially working two fronts right now—the manhunt for you, which, by the way, got a little too close for comfort this afternoon—and the current skirmish with the Iron Guild, they’re stretched to the limits of their resources. Trust me. I’ve done this a time or two. They’re not going to be expecting a heist in their own backyard by a couple of hoodlums.”

  “Watch who you’re calling a hoodlum,” Shane shot back, running a hand through his unruly black hair.

  “Yeah,” said Arlo. “What we do takes skill, finesse, precision.”

  “Equipment extraction engineers? Is that better?” Rand moved the toothpick from one side of his cheek to the other.

  Shane laced his tattooed fingers together behind his head. “Much better.”

  “Just call us the Triple E’s.”

  “Sounds like the name of a dude ranch,” Rand said.

  “If that ranch had steel horses named Harley and Davidson,” Shane said with a snort. “Get it?”

  Arlo rolled his eyes. “Someone get me some melted butter to go with the corn.”

  In addition to the legit business of Reckless Motor Sports and the adjacent off-road park that hosted sanctioned motocross events, Rand also operated an illegal chop shop, which sold army vehicles and equipment on the black market. When Vince learned of this, he told them about a huge army facility located a few miles from the Institute where surplus heavy equipment, maintenance vans and VIP vehicles were stored. The prisoners passed it every day on the way to the railroad job site.

  Rand had wasted no time in pulling up a satellite image of the area.

  “When do you think you’ll check it out?” Vince asked.

  The three men looked at each other. Arlo held out his hand to defer to Rand. “Ask the boss.”

  Rand thought for a moment. “Soon.”

  “I say tonight,” said Shane. “Strike while the iron is hot.”

  Rand looked at Arlo. “You down with that?”

  The guy nodded. “Sounds like a good way to spend a Friday night. Eating pizza and stealing from the army.”

  “Tonight it is then,” Rand said.

  Vince ground to a halt. “I’m going with you.”

  The three men cranked around in their chairs.

  Shane looked confused. “You’re shitting me, right? Didn’t you just get out of the joint?”

  “Yeah, but I can drive you straight there. Point out the side door that’s hard to see from the road.”

  “Hell,” Shane said. “When I got out of the big house, I slept for a week.”

  According to Rand, many of the men who worked for him had past run-ins with the Pacifican army, some more serious than others. They all had chips on their shoulders when it came to the army, which explained Shane’s reaction earlier when he’d covered for Vince and Zara.

  After the AIU agents had left, Vince felt as if he’d been hit by a tidal wave. Not only had his presence put Zara in grave danger, he’d been unable to do anything to protect her.

  What a fucking inadequate excuse for a man.

  Rand pushed his chair from the table and stood. “Can you two gentlemen give us a minute?”

  Vince had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this.

  Shane and Arlo got up and shuffled out into the garage. The metal door banged shut behind them.

  Rand poured himself a cup of coffee, added two mounded spoonfuls of sugar and a trickle of cream, and began to stir vigorously. The tink tink sound grated on Vince’s nerves.

  “Listen,” he said. “I know you’re eager to participate, and I can respect that, but it’s too soon. Based on that little visit from AIU, they’re still hot on your tail.”

  Screw those AIU bastards. “You said yourself that this was going to be easy. Besides, this is my intel.”

  Rand gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “There will be a finder’s fee for you, regardless. And if our take is as good as I think it will be, you should be pretty happy with it.”

  He wasn’t about to be railroaded. “I don’t care about the damn money,” he said, pounding his fist on the table. “I want to go. This is something—”

  “Give it time, man.” Rand took a sip of his coffee, clearly unfazed by Vince’s anger. “Get reacquainted with your life. Enjoy yourself. There will be plenty of other opportunities. I get it. Trust me.”

  Vince paced the length of the small room. “No, you don’t. Once your men hit the storage facility, the army will lock things down tight. It’s a chance for me to stick it to them before that happens and say screw you.”

  “But you stuck it to them when you escaped. Isn’t that enough for now?”

  Vince was so frustrated that he wanted to lash out at something. Punch the wall. Kick over the table.

  “The escape plan wasn’t my doi
ng. I tried to get out of that place many times over the years and failed. When Zara showed up, I was just along for the ride, reacting to the events around me. I didn’t take charge and make it happen. This raid, however, and the havoc it will cause will be because of me.”

  Rand nodded. “Revenge is a powerful motivator, but is now the best time for that? Shouldn’t you be focused on what’s in front of you rather than what’s behind you?”

  Vince cursed under his breath and continued pacing. Since he’d arrived, he’d been having a hard time sleeping. He was irritable, hadn’t had much of an appetite. Hell, he’d even turned down a blow job in the shower that first night. Who the hell did that?

  “Don’t you get it? I can’t move forward until I’ve righted some wrongs in my past. And here’s a chance for me to do just that.”

  Rand blew out a long breath as he turned his mug around so that the handle was facing the opposite direction. A muscle in his jaw ticked. When he lifted his gaze, Vince could tell he’d made up his mind.

  “Okay, fine,” he said. “I’ll let ‘em know you’ll be coming.”

  ***

  Zara didn’t want to be one of those women. The kind who nagged her man, ordered him around and worried about him as if he were her child. That’s way too much salt. It’s not good for you. Did you take out the trash? What time are you going to be home? Careful, you’ll burn yourself.

  This was Vince’s life, she told herself, not hers. He could make his own decisions, right?

  Rubbing her forehead, she felt a headache starting to form. “You just got out of prison, and you’re going on a raid? That makes no sense, Vince. The army is still looking for you.”

  If it hadn’t been for those two AIU agents showing up when they had, she and Vince would’ve probably spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, making love and getting reacquainted with each other. She’d thought she was getting through to him—he’d finally asked about Darius and wanted to know all about his son—and then everything went back to the way it was before.

  Vince stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, an angry look on his face. “You expect me to sit around and do nothing. Jesus, Zara, if you remember anything about me, you know I can’t do that. It’s not who I am.”

  His comment stung. He was putting distance between them that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to overcome.

  “And I don’t expect you to,” she said. “It just seems crazy to go back to that place right now. Things are too hot. Why do you need to do this now?” What she didn’t say was, before you even meet our son, but she had a pretty good idea that Vince knew what she was implying.

  He ran a hand over his buzz cut, and for a moment she thought he might change his mind, climb into the bed with her and tell her he wasn’t going. But he didn’t.

  “This is something I need to do.”

  ***

  The warehouse district on Old Smokey Point Way looked like a ghost town. Several pieces of trash tumbleweeded across the quiet road. Tall grass grew from cracks in the asphalt parking lots.

  Vince stretched his cramped muscles. For over an hour, he’d been cooped up in a storage compartment hidden beneath the floor of the van. Even though Arlo had been able to avoid all the roadblocks, they didn’t want to take any chances that they’d be pulled over and asked to produce their papers. According to Rand, getting a fake ID was easy enough, but that could take several weeks. Vince didn’t want to wait and miss out on this opportunity for revenge against the system that had taken so much from him. Besides, this was his intel. He deserved to be here.

  Shane peered out the windshield from the passenger seat. “Welcome to the thriving metropolis of Where-The-Hell-Are-We.”

  “The pride of the Pacifican army,” Arlo quipped.

  To the left was a nearby Dumpster overflowing with garbage. An awning over one of the doors hung at an angle.

  “And it’s not much better in the daytime,” Vince said. “I don’t think I once saw another vehicle on this road.” He pointed to the right where several low-lying warehouses were surrounded by a chain link fence. “That’s the back of the facility there. The main entrance is on the other side.”

  They drove around the corner and backed into an alley across the street, taking care not to hit the dented green Dumpster. The plan was to get inside and scope out the place first. Then, if there was anything of value, Shane would go back for the van, they’d load it quickly and get the hell out.

  Pulling down their black facemasks, the three men exited the vehicle and jogged in tandem to the mouth of the alley.

  “And you’ve only seen guards during business hours?” Arlo asked, confirming what Vince had told them earlier.

  He nodded. “During the day, yes, there was someone at the gate, but when the prison transport drove past in the evening, the place always looked completely dead. Like it does now. Doesn’t mean there aren’t any guards milling around somewhere.”

  Shane pointed to the Dumpster at the mouth of the alley. “We’ll wait here for a few minutes. See if we spot anyone. If not, we’ll go in.”

  Vince leaned against the brick wall and crossed his arms. He scanned the facility’s parking lot, looking for movement, but the night was calm. A dog barked in the distance and a light breeze blew through the surrounding trees. If Vince were to climb to the top of one of them, he would probably be able to see the lights of the south guard tower at the Institute. The thought made his stomach clench. Having that hellhole so close made him even more determined to succeed tonight. It was going to be so satisfying to stick it to them right under their goddamn noses.

  As they waited, Shane and Arlo talked in hushed tones about an upcoming motocross event at Reckless. Shane had a boy who was going to compete for the first time. Vince found it curious that these two were criminals by night and regular dudes by day. In a way, just like Zara was. He wondered how long it would take to find his own place in this world.

  It killed him to think about his conversation with her. She’d had tears in her eyes as she tried to talk him out of going. He’d wanted to drag her into his arms, soothe away her fears, but he knew that the moment he did, he would have caved. He would do anything to make her happy—except agree not to go on this raid. She’d have to accept that this was something he had to do.

  “Ready, gents?” Shane said, jerking Vince from his thoughts.

  Arlo motioned his head in the direction of the streetlamp. “You going to take care of that?”

  “Guess I’m going to have to.” Shane pulled a gun from his pocket, screwed on a silencer, and took aim at the streetlight. The first shot missed completely. The second one ricocheted off the pole with a loud metallic ping.

  Arlo cursed under his breath. “Does someone need their eyes checked?”

  Shane’s expression said he wasn’t amused. “If the marksman in this group hadn’t broken his wrist doing yoga, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

  Vince glanced over and noticed for the first time a black cast peeking out from under Arlo’s sleeve.

  “For your information, I didn’t break it doing yoga. It was Pilates.”

  “My bad.” Shane rolled his eyes. “Big difference.”

  “It is, but whatever. A really hot chick at the gym was having problems with one of the machines. I tried to help her, it slipped, and this happened. But it’s all good. She felt terrible. Made it up to me later.” He grinned.

  Shane raised a brow. “One night in the sack is worth being incapacitated for weeks?”

  “For the record, it’s been more than just one night.”

  Vince was getting impatient. They needed to get this show on the road. “Let me try.”

  Shane handed him the gun. “Be my guest.”

  He held it in his hands to get a feel for how the weight was distributed and thought about the last time he’d fired a gun. It had been with his father at the shooting range on Abbott Street. Vince had done so well that day that he’d gotten his picture taken. He wondered if it was still poste
d on their wall.

  He took aim at the streetlight and fired. It popped and the place went dark.

  “Nice work,” Arlo said. “You can do all the shooting from now on.”

  He gave Shane back the gun, and they jogged across the street.

  The gate consisted of two chain link sections padlocked together. The sign in front read: Army Surplus. Deliveries Only. Keep Out.

  Several small, hunching shadows, one larger than the others, ambled across the road in front of them. Raccoons. They slipped through a break in the fence.

  Shane held up a pair of wire cutters and snipped the air. “Maybe I won’t be needing these after all.”

  Vince and the men headed over to the break. It wasn’t big enough, so they did have to make a few more cuts. After they squeezed through, Vince pointed to the first building. “There’s the entrance. Next to that delivery bay.”

  Before they’d taken more than a few steps, Arlo grabbed their collars. “Stop,” he growled, jerking his chin toward a security camera on a tall pole.

  He threw a rock to see if it was motion sensitive. It didn’t move.

  “I’m not sure that it’s even on,” Arlo said, “But we need to assume it is. Vince, think you can hit that as well?”

  “Yep.” He took the gun from Shane, and with one shot, he took out the camera.

  Vince’s ego swelled when he caught the two men giving each other a look that said they were impressed as hell.

  Shane picked the lock and soon they were inside, snapping on their flashlights. Numerous rows of wooden crates were stacked fifteen or twenty feet high. Arlo peeked inside a few of them. Munitions and firearms. Bingo.

  On the far side were items too big for crates. Dozens of work trucks and vehicles, including four brand new Mercedes, still with plastic on the windshields to protect the glass.

  Shane peered inside one of them. “Yes!” he said, rubbing his hands together. “The keys are in the ignition. Once the numbers are filed off, they’ll fetch a handsome price. Too bad we can’t take them all.”