“Let me see it.”
“No.”
“Then, maybe you don’t really have them,” he said.
“The man is still my father, and I still respect his work. I took it for personal purposes. To figure out what the fuck was going on. Not so I could hand over information. But here’s what I know. I know you and your guys run guns and launder money. I know you do it through a bar you guys own on the outskirts of the city. I know you work with guys by the name of Texas, Notch, and Bronx. And I know what they look like.”
I watched the man’s face redden with anger.
“I know there are two girls connected to you. Ella and Keva,” I said.
“What?” he asked hotly.
“There’s a great deal of information on you guys in that folder. My father’s been thorough. There are mentionings of some guy named Jett. Killed, apparently, or something like that.”
“You don’t understand a damn thing you’re talking about right now,” he growled.
“No, I don’t. But I figured reading the pages in that file were the closest I’d ever get. And maybe I’m weird to assume that after a couple of pity fucks, you’d actually tell me about yourself. So, I suppose you’ve become a weakness to me.”
“Wait, did you say ‘pity fuck?’” he asked.
“Don’t change the subject. You’re going to want the rest of my story.”
“No, you’re not changin’ anything. Did you just accuse me of pity fucking you?”
He grew closer to me. Slowly. Deftly. He moved with grace and loomed over me with a strength that made my heart stop in my chest. I backed all the way into the wall. I pressed my hands into it. I felt his body heat coming for me as he grew closer, his eyes holding my gaze. I watched them darken. I watched an angry, frustrated fire ignite behind his eyes. He stood toe to toe with me as I swallowed hard, looking up into his face.
“Let’s get one fuckin’ thing straight,” he said.
“And—and what’s that?” I asked.
“Out of all the things we’ve done together, never once have I pity fucked you. You’re better than that, and so am I. I fucked you because I wanted to. Because your body calls to me. Because you’ve got curves I want to memorize and because my taste for you is insatiable. I fucked you because I wanted to. Because I needed to. And I came back for seconds and sure as hell will come back for thirds. And fourths. And fifths, until you kick me out of your fuckin’ bed. Is that understood?”
His words pierced through me like lightning. Carved through me like softened butter. It was the most wondrous thing anyone had ever said to me, and I wanted to kiss him. Wrap myself around him. Take him, over and over, and forget this bullshit fight.
“Do you, Hayley Woolf, understand?” Stone asked curtly.
“Yes,” I said breathlessly.
His hand fisted my hair and brought my lips to his. I collapsed against him, my hands running all over his leather jacket. I wrapped my arms around him and clung to him, feeling his tongue push between my lips. He stumbled me back into the wall, pinning me against his strength as our teeth clattered and our lips swelled against one another’s.
And when our foreheads fell together, I gasped for air.
“Tonight is a set up,” I whispered.
His nose nuzzled against mine. “How do you know that?”
“My father’s conversation. After I uh…”
His lips fell to my cheek and my knees weakened.
“After I got done in his office, I heard him talking about a plan. How my father would have ‘them’ right where his team wanted ‘them.’ He told someone on the other end of the line to get set up for tonight. Whatever you’re doing tonight, it’s a set up. You can’t go.”
He gripped my chin before he tilted my eyes up to his. The shadows on his face danced as I took in his severe green eyes and his beautiful brown hair. I wanted to strip him down and sit on that face of his. Ride his lips and feel that stubble against my wet pussy lips. His hand moved to cup my cheek. His thumb brushed my skin while his eyes danced between mine.
“Why are you telling me any of this?” Stone asked.
I shrugged. “Because I care about you, you idiot.”
He snickered softly and I smiled. I couldn't explain it, but I felt a connection with him. And with the kiss he had just graced me with, I knew he felt the same. We were consistently drawn to one another. Hooked on one another, even if we couldn't figure out why. He grinned down at me before he backed away, then he leaned against the wall opposite me and sighed.
“I know you have no reason to believe me, but I’m telling you the truth. I won’t hand over the pictures of the documents I took because that would cross a line I’d never be able to come back from. Not really. Especially since that man is my father. But I can’t help but feel that my father is targeting you guys out of a prejudice instead of founded evidence,” I said.
Stone snickered. “What gave you that idea?”
“My mother,” I said softly.
His eyes rose to meet mine and I watched them soften.
“What about your mother?” he asked.
“She, uh… she died. Well, my father’s been telling me she died. I’m not quite sure that’s the case, but that’s a different story for a different day.”
“What do you mean, you think she—”
“Different day, Stone,” I said curtly.
He gritted his teeth together and I grinned.
“Not so fun being in the dark, is it?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Not used to it, no.”
“What my father’s been telling me my entire life is that my mother died because of a collision with a drunk motorist. Some pompous motorcycle douche that ran straight into her car and T-boned her, killing her instantly. I have reason to believe that something is wrong with that story, but the foundation of prejudice is still the same. I think my father is targeting motorcycle crews with a deep prejudice against them because of whatever happened with my mother. Death or something else.”
“So, you think your father is…?”
I sighed. “Bending the rules to get what he wants, essentially.”
I went to go move toward him, but his phone rang out in his pocket. I paused and fell back against the wall as Stone ripped his phone out of his jeans. He took the call and held his finger up to me, then made his way back into the living room. And of course, I was all ears, trying to figure out what was going on with the phone call.
“Yep. Uh huh. Look, I told you I had to go out and do something. No, no, tell the guys to stay there. No one moves until I get back and talk to everyone. Why?” Stone asked.
He looked back at me and I froze. I held my breath, wondering what he was going to say.
“I have reason to believe tonight might be compromised,” he said.
I released the breath I was holding while he finished up his conversation. He hung up the phone after addressing the person as Texas. One of the guys. Vice President, if I was remembering the paperwork correctly. Stone shoved his phone back into his pocket and turned to me, his body a little more relaxed than when he first barged in.
“I have to go. But we will talk later. You have my word on that,” he said.
“Be safe, Stone.”
“I will.”’
Before I could catch myself, I strode for him. I leapt into his arms, wrapping my legs and arms around him. My lips fell against his in a kiss that prickled the back of my neck. He held me closely, fisting my ass cheeks and holding me there for him to feel. I slipped my tongue against his. I raked it along the roof of his mouth. I pulled a growl from him as I slid my teeth along his lower lip, breaking the kiss with a pop.
“Please, be safe,” I whispered.
He set me down onto my feet before he kissed my cheek.
“You have my word,” he murmured.
Twenty-Three
Stone
As I sped my way back to the lodge, my mind swirled. I had no idea what the fuck to believe. It would hav
e been easy to believe Hayley had she just forked over the documents she said she took pictures of. For all I know, she was an expert bluff. Like her damn father. I bit down onto my lower lip, continuing to taste her as I raced back to the lodge. I mean, I felt something for Hayley. Something strong. Something I’d never experienced before. But could I trust her?
Even with who her father was?
“Why didn’t you just show me the damn pictures?” I murmured to myself.
I pulled up to the lodge and the guys were standing there. Waiting for me. I saw them all on edge. Which meant Texas had told them about the damn phone call. I parked my bike and jumped up the steps. I ushered my men back inside. I closed the door and locked it, then went around and pulled all the blinds to the windows.
“Is it true?” Bronx asked.
“Are we compromised?” Notch asked.
“Thanks,” I said flatly, looking to Texas.
He shrugged it off, though. Like he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Look, whether tonight has been compromised or not, we can’t afford not to do it. I’d rather take my chance with the San Diego police than with a bunch of pissed off Chinese guys,” I said.
“Who’s your source?” Bronx asked.
“Not something I’m sure I can trust,” I said.
“Did they have any evidence that we’d been compromised?” Notch asked.
“Supposedly. I couldn’t get them to show me the proof,” I said.
“But they know about the operation tonight,” Texas said.
“Nope. Only that they assumed something was going down tonight,” I said.
The guys didn’t look convinced, though.
“We’re going to stick to the schedule as planned. Everyone just needs to be on high alert. If you see anything fishy—anything at all—you bail and get to the safehouse on the other side of the city. Whatever comes of it, we can defend ourselves from that outpost. Got it?” I asked.
All of my men nodded before I took a look at the clock.
“We’ve got an hour to prepare ourselves before we need to head out. Get your heads screwed on straight, do whatever you have to do to clear your minds, and prepare for a busy night,” I said.
We all dispersed and I made a pot of coffee. I needed caffeine to make sure I was alert for the night. The hour passed much quicker than I would have liked, and I still wasn’t sure I’d made the right decision to tell the guys what was going on. But letting them know there was a possibility we might be compromised would ensure them looking out for anything and everything. A car that was out of place. A shadow that kept moving too much. Anything that could denote we were walking into trouble.
Then, it was time to disperse.
I hung back for the nine fifteen shipment. And when they arrived, I quickly began unloading. I got the wooden cases of guns into the shed and walked them down the stairs. The shed was nothing but a defense mechanism. It hid the actual storage facility and emergency bunker I had built underneath the damn thing. I heard Texas pull up with the second shipment thirty minutes later, and between the two of us we had shit unloaded and locked away within the hour.
“Ready to go check on Bronx and Notch?” I asked.
“You want me coming along?” Texas asked.
“I want you heading for our storage locker. I want you to check it out before we even get there with the guns. I’ll go to the guys and help with transport. But if you see anything fishy—”
“I’ll call you. Right.”
We went our separate ways and I headed for the dock where Notch and Bronx were waiting. I followed behind them on my bike, on the lookout for anything that looked suspicious. I diverted them down a few back roads just to avoid some police posts I knew were common in the area. Which added time to our trip, but I didn’t mind. If it kept us out of eyesight of the police stations, I wouldn’t lose sleep over the added minutes.
Then, we arrived at the storage locker.
“Ready to unload?” Notch asked.
“How did things go on your end, guys?” Bronx asked.
“We’re good on our end. And I haven’t found anything fishy around here,” Texas said.
“Want to start unloading, then?” Notch asked.
I shook my head. “We wait for Harry and his guys. They’ll help us unload.”
There was something in my gut I didn’t like about all this. About this new gang they were selling guns to. It was a last-minute deviation from a plan thrust onto us last-minute. After we had come to an agreement. My mind rushed with all sorts of things that had changed. Harry in our meeting with the guys and their guns. Harry barging into the lodge unannounced. Him threatening me in order to get my crew into this new shipment of guns in the first place.
“We should have checked him for a wire,” I murmured.
“What was that?” Texas asked.
“I think Cheng’s working with the police,” I said.
“Say what now?” Bronx asked.
“Just shut up and do exactly as I say. All right?” I asked.
I hopped into the truck and drove it off into a corner parking space. Away from our rented storage locker. I shuffled the guys around the corner into the shadows and rolled our bikes into the woods. The shadows would conceal us from the end of the row of lockers into the woods, where we could get on our bikes and get the fuck out of dodge.
“Stone, what's going—”
I put my finger to my lips, shushing Notch as a car came up the road.
I saw a vehicle I recognized. Harry Cheng and his blacked-out town car. We all peered around the corner as he got out, but instead of looking around for us? He looked out toward the road. We all watched as an unmarked sedan pulled up. It drove up beside Harry’s car. And when the door opened, I watched as proof of Hayley’s theory slipped out.
Fucking Detective Woolf get out of that damn vehicle.
“Shit,” I hissed.
“We have to get to our bikes,” Texas whispered.
“You guys used gloves, right?” I asked.
“Like always,” Notch said softly.
“Let me get some pictures,” Bronx said.
He pulled out his phone and got pictures of Harry and the detective talking. Smiling. Shaking one another’s hand. It looked like they were discussing some sort of plan before Harry’s eyes fell onto the truck. I watched his face fall. His head started whipping around, like he was looking for something. Or someone.
Or some people.
“You got them?” I asked.
“Yep, and videos,” Bronx said.
“Come on, then. Let’s get out of here,” I said.
Just as we made it into the woods, my phone started vibrating. We all swung our legs over our bikes and walked them quickly out the other end of the woods. I pulled my phone out and saw Harry called. Over, and over, and over again. Leaving voicemail after voicemail and blowing up my text messages.
“Should we answer that?” Bronx asked.
We sat on the curb of the road, about five hundred yards away from the storage unit. I pulled up my voice mailbox and began playing through Harry’s messages. I had them on speakerphone as the guys gathered around me, eager to hear what our betrayer had to say to us.
But it was the last voice message that made me both irate and worried.
“Stone, it’s Cheng. I don’t know where the fuck you guys are or where the hell my guns are, but if I’m staring at the truck you guys used, then you guys are going to pay for this. If they’re locked in that truck and I can’t get to them? If you’ve bailed on me and aren’t here to open this storage locker you agreed to let us use? You’re done for. My men will come after you with all we’ve got. And we won’t stop until you’re all slaughtered.”
I looked around at my guys and saw them puffing their cheeks out.
“Ready to get out of here now?” I asked.
“I think we should head to our safehouse anyway,” Texas said.
“And I think that’s a brilliant idea. Come on. I�
�ll stop and get us food along the way,” I said.
Then, we all struck up our bikes and rode off into the distance. Leaving the detective, Cheng, and all those fuckin’ guns behind. If they wanted to come after us, we’d be ready. In a fortified bunker Texas funded of his own volition so we’d have a place to camp out if shit like this ever happened. We had an arsenal of weapons. A cache of ammunition. Grenades. Flash bangers. Stink bombs. Bullet-proof vests. Other clothes that fit us and camouflaged us with the night. The works.
But that meant we’d have to lay low.
I should have trusted Hayley. Fuckin’ hell, I should have listened.
And if she could ever forgive me, I’d never make that mistake again.
I’d never question her loyalty—or her feelings—to me again.
Twenty-Four
Hayley
My worry for Stone was through the roof. I kept looking at the clock. Looking at my phone. Looking at the clock again. I kept my eyes outside and my ears pointed toward the road, hoping I’d hear a bike. Hoping Stone would come let me know he was okay himself. Or at the very least, call.
But there was nothing.
Nine rolled around. Then, ten. And as it pushed eleven, my mind began to swirl with all sorts of things. Had Stone taken my advice? Were the guys okay? Had my father apprehended them in whatever set up he had going on? For some reason, my father had immersed himself in the idea of taking down this club. And while I couldn't blame him for the reasons, I wondered where his real motivation was coming from. There was plenty that didn’t add up, and I knew when my father became obsessed, he bent the rules. Skewed things to fit his motive until he could find hard evidence of something else going on.
I didn’t understand why my father was like that. Or why he had dedicated his career to undercover work and infiltrating motorcycle crews.
Granted, my father did more than that. He did regular detective work as well. But it seemed as if his growing focus was gangs. Hell, he had traveled out of the state three times to places like New Mexico and Arizona because his reputation for taking down crews like Stone’s was growing within the departments. Rumors circulated about his reputation. I wasn’t an idiot. I wasn't blind to what my father did.
Stone: The Lost Boys MC #2 Page 14