Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  “Let’s discuss that when I come over later. Boss wants me to do the inspection with a lab in mind.”

  “Make sure you enter Blackriver the back way, like I showed you last time. You draw attention—and the last thing we want is people snooping.”

  “Is that SQ chick still on your ass?”

  For the first time since starting this phone conversation, Chaz’s shoulders relaxed. “She won’t be for much longer.”

  “You put a hit on her?” Nitro’s voice held a hint of surprise. Being the Vipers’ top assassin, he probably thought Chaz should have offered him the job.

  Ha! He might need the Vipers to distribute the drugs, but he didn’t need their help with Sergeant Bimbo. “I like the way you think, man. But no, we just made sure she’d be happier working somewhere else.”

  “Don’t let things get out of hand. If Blanchette gets wind of any trouble with the SQ, he’ll call this whole thing off.”

  Not unexpected, considering Blanchette only got his job as top dog after the SQ took down the former Vipers prez. But it wouldn’t be a problem. They set the time for the meet and Chaz ended the call.

  If Morgan hadn’t already high-tailed it out of town, Chaz had a few more ideas tucked up his sleeve. Ideas his fucking apple of a cousin wouldn’t like, seeing as he chased the cop around Blackriver like a wolf after a bitch in heat.

  Rémi was the ultimate player, screwing anything female. Whenever he’d spied Rémi with the SQ bitch, they’d been fucking each other with their eyes, struggling not to tear each other’s clothes off and start humping like bunnies. And people were starting to talk.

  Did Rémi have any idea what he was doing? The shame it would bring to their family?

  Chaz got up to stare out the window at Sarah running through the sprinkler with their boys. He was proud of his family, proud of the life he’d created, proud of his plans for the future. His boys were going to be important men, strong traditional leaders for their community. And no one was going to stand in his way. Not the SQ, not the Vipers, not the band-council supporters, and especially not his weak-minded, white-loving cousin who valued the needs of his cock above the needs of his people.

  After his rough night and even rougher morning, Rémi could really use some of his grandfather’s down-to-earth advice. He pulled into his grandfather’s driveway, immediately spotting him on the shaded porch absorbed in his latest whittling project. Raksótha set his knife on his thigh and waved. The tension squeezing Rémi’s skull like a vise eased.

  Rémi turned the engine off and climbed the steps to the porch. “Kwe kwe, Rakso,” he said, flopping down in the only other chair.

  “Kwe kwe, Rémi.”

  “What are you working on?”

  “A pair of eagles for Chaz’s boys.”

  A pinch of guilt tweaked his chest. Children were always the ones hurt by their parents’ poor decisions.

  “You don’t look so good, Kwátere,” Grandfather said, frowning.

  A smile tugging at his lips, Rémi shook his head. Raksótha was never one to mince words. “Last twenty-four hours have been a bitch.”

  Reaching into the basket beside his chair, Raksótha picked out a small block of wood and handed it to him along with a whittling knife. “Tell me.”

  Rémi’s grin held. Grandfather didn’t waste words either. As Rémi began to carve the wood, he caught his grandfather up on everything that had happened since yesterday, including his growing suspicions regarding the source of the drugs. “What do you think, Rakso? Am I way off base?”

  Grandfather returned his focus to the wood in his hands, his pull strokes bringing the object to life. Rémi followed suit. He had no idea what he was carving, but the repetitive nature of the long sweeping cuts brought him peace. For several minutes, the only sounds were the chirring of crickets in the long grass, the singing of golden-crowned kinglets high up in a nearby stand of spruce trees, and the creaking of their rocking chairs.

  Finally, Raksótha spoke. “A few months ago, even a few weeks ago, I would’ve said you were out of your mind. There’s always been unrest. We’ve been dealing with drugs and alcohol and disenfranchisement for decades. None of that is new. But now the tone has changed.”

  Rémi stilled his chair with his foot. “How so, Rakso?”

  “When I walk the rez, I sense desperation… and anger. Pressure is building, like the heavy feeling before a powerful thunderstorm.” Grandfather turned to him, his forehead deeply wrinkled. “We’re on the verge of something here. Something dangerous.”

  His throat tight, Rémi nodded. “I feel it too.” Every day, since Alyssa had first set foot on Blackriver First Nation land and the task force had come into existence, he’d felt the increase in tensions. Family members, clan members, friends were pitted against one another, each believing that their views were the only right ones. How much longer could they go on like this? “What I don’t know is when it’s all going to blow.”

  “We can’t predict when the storm will hit. But we can prepare.”

  Mindlessly, Rémi resumed whittling the wood, making short pull strokes. “What do you suggest?”

  “Two things. First, get this task force over with quickly. The longer the discussion goes on, the more people will fight about it. The end is clear to me.”

  “How do you see it?”

  “The SQ won’t accept anything less than a controlling hand. That means a squad with Sergeant Morgan in charge. From what she said at the meeting, they’d accept putting our own people on it.”

  “But—”

  “—but the community won’t accept an SQ squad, whether our people are on it or not.”

  Exactly. “So what’s your solution?”

  “A tribal police force led by you as chief and Tommy as assistant chief. You can go through SQ management training, but you don’t work for them. And we hire only local officers.”

  “Training takes time. Thirteen weeks for the SQ’s Special Constable training or six months for the RCMP Depot’s Constable training, which is better.”

  “Defenders can backfill.”

  “Chaz won’t like that. He’ll want Guardians on the force as well.”

  “And he can have that, as long as they go through the training.”

  Since only a small portion of them would pass the basic entrance requirements, and even fewer would want to go through the training, Grandfather’s plan would weed out the more controversial Guardians. “I’ll talk with Tommy. This plan just might work. What is your second piece of advice?”

  “Nail down the source of the drugs. If someone is going to the trouble of producing drugs on the rez, they aren’t doing it just to sell to a few kids.”

  “Which means they’re working with an outside group or gang for distribution. Shit.”

  “Some of our people may be desperate enough to get involved with organized crime if they think it can make them money.”

  Rémi set his knife down and blew the dust off the small wood carving he’d made. With his foot, he pushed off the floorboards, setting the rocking chair in motion. The movement helped him think. “The risk is huge. Outlaw motorcycle gangs tend to follow a certain code of honor, but these new street gangs taking over Montréal? Most of their members don’t expect to see their thirties. The only thing they care about is the here and now. How much money they can make and how much power they can gain.”

  “Killing a rez full of redskins wouldn’t even slow them down.”

  “You’re all sunshine and flowers today, Rakso.”

  Grandfather smiled and the ice around Rémi’s heart melted a bit. “I just tell it like it is.” He pointed to the carving in Rémi’s hand. “Now, you tell me something, young man. What’s going on with you and Sergeant Morgan?”

  For the first time, he really looked at what he’d made—a small wolf. Was it to replace the one that had been broken the day of the robbery or was it meant to represent…. He cleared his throat and stared out at the pile of shavings at his feet. “Nothi
ng.”

  “Avoiding the truth doesn’t change reality.”

  Déjà vu made his stomach flip. This sounded like a replay of his earlier conversation with Corey. He turned to his grandfather. “You’re right. Something is going on, but I don’t know what.”

  Raksótha arched a brow as though his bullshit meter had hit the red zone.

  Rémi scratched his chin and weighed his words. “I like her. A lot. Too much, maybe.” Way to tell it like it is, Whitedeer. Wanting to kick himself, he glanced away and developed a keen interest in an eagle soaring overhead.

  “Have you slept with her?”

  “Rakso. Jeez.” When it came to his grandfather, sex wasn’t on the conversational menu.

  “I’m old, Rémi. Not dead. I see the way you look at her and the way she looks at you.”

  His hand closed around the wolf. “We haven’t.” Yet. But it was only a matter of time. He wanted her with a passion and determination that surprised him.

  “That you haven’t tells me much. Be careful, Kwátere. She’s an SQ officer. The consequences for both of you will be huge. Perhaps bigger than you realize. Certainly bigger than she realizes.”

  In the parking lot of Alyssa’s motel, Rémi scooted onto the hood of his car and leaned against the windshield, baking in the hot summer sun. Where was she? Alyssa had told him she’d be off work by three. He checked his watch. That was thirty minutes ago.

  The wait gave him time to think about what Raksótha had said. He did need to figure out if marijuana was being grown on the rez. How could he survey the large territory properly? No airplane was available to him, and most of the land was inaccessible by car. The rez was too large to cover by horseback in any reasonable timeframe. While he stared up at the clear blue sky, an idea came to him. The river.

  Black River cut through the center of the rez, leading up to Turtle Island and Sorcerer’s Falls. From the water, he’d see enough of the more isolated parts of the rez to spot some likely grow locations he could return to and investigate further.

  The rattling of Alyssa’s ancient Toyota announced her arrival. He slid to the ground as she parked her car in the empty spot beside the Fusion.

  When she stopped the engine and opened her door, it wasn’t the sight of her silky hair gleaming gold in the sun or the perfection of her features that had his pulse kicking up. It was the twin furrows digging between her delicate brows and the brackets of worry framing her rosy lips.

  “Hi Rémi.” She offered him a bleak smile that made him want to hug her to him and rub comforting shapes on her back.

  As she stood, he bent his knees to study her face. “Everything all right?” Maybe yesterday’s events were catching up with her.

  “Just disappointed with the lack of progress on the case.”

  Where was her spunk, her fire? He hated the despondency in her voice. “That’s all it is?”

  As though it had a mind of its own, his hand rose to brush the hair from her forehead. Shit. He really shouldn’t be touching her. Things had grown heated last night, but she’d been more than a little tipsy. She might not even remember. Either way, for her sake and his sanity, they needed to keep their relationship professional.

  He let his arm drop.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, then turned and pointed to her room on the second floor. “This heat is getting to me. Want to come up for a cold soda?”

  Um… yeah he did. Though being alone with her in a motel room wasn’t professional. But Alyssa obviously needed some cheering up. Besides, they needed to talk. As long as he kept his distance and his hands to himself, things would be fine.

  He nodded and followed her up the stairs. But with each sway of her rounded hips, his resolve faltered. Twice his hand shot out and hovered at the small of her back, lingered over the sweet curve of her bottom. Sweat popped out on his forehead, and out of desperation, he shoved both his hands deep into the pockets of his shorts where they couldn’t get him into trouble.

  When she unlocked the door, he reached over her head and pushed it open. Her foot over the threshold, she hesitated. Was she flashing back to yesterday afternoon? “Alyssa?”

  She took a deep breath and with a few quick steps entered the room, putting some much-needed distance between them.

  While she got them Cokes from the mini-fridge, he sat on the couch and watched her. Dark smudges gave her tobacco-colored eyes a bruised appearance and made her skin seem paler than usual. After handing him a can, she dropped into the armchair and toed off her shoes, sighing as she massaged her feet.

  “Hard day at work?” he asked.

  She released her hair from the tight bun she’d trapped it in and scratched her head. “Let’s just say, it wasn’t one of my finest moments.”

  “Tell me about it.” Since Alyssa had more experience with the business side of drug deals, he’d wanted to discuss his growing suspicions regarding the drugs and brainstorm ideas about how to proceed. But the timing wasn’t right.

  “I might as well catch you up on what I’ve found out. But first, I need to change.”

  No kidding. As sexy as she looked in her fitted trousers and tight blouse, she had to be suffocating. “Feel free to slip into something more comfortable,” he said with a wink.

  As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to reach into the air and snatch them back. Her confused expression made him feel even more like a lech.

  Way to go, Whitedeer. Real professional.

  Alyssa rose from her seat, shaking her head. “You can’t turn it off, can you?”

  Not where she was concerned, apparently. “With you it’s a little hard.”

  Fuck!

  Alyssa’s laughter followed her to the dresser. And it was a sound that had been missing today. He wasn’t a doctor, but she clearly needed a break. A few hours away from the stress of her job and the reminders that someone had threatened her.

  As her friendly professional colleague, he could help with that. A little canoe ride might do her some good, and at the same time, he’d get to explore the rez and do a little recon. Mixing a little business with his pleasure would keep him from forgetting that Alyssa wasn’t his date.

  She slid open the second drawer and pulled out some clothes.

  “Got a swimsuit in there?” he asked.

  Lifting her head, she stared at his reflection in the large mirror above the dresser.

  He answered the question in her eyes. “I thought you might like to come boating with me. We could bring some food and have a picnic by the river.”

  She spun around, a smile spreading across her face. “Seriously? I haven’t been boating in years. It’s so hot out, I can’t imagine a better day for it. What do I need to bring?”

  Feeling more confident than he had all day, he stood and stepped closer. “Just you and a swimsuit.” Preferably an itsy-bitsy-teenie-weenie-yellow-polka-dot bikini.

  She rested her hand on his chest and his lungs turned to stone. Gazing into each other’s eyes, neither said a word. With a small groan, she curled her fingers into a fist and tapped it against him before stepping back. She tilted her head to the side, a slight smile playing on her lips. “Thank you, Rémi. This means a lot.”

  He pointed her in the direction of the bathroom and almost gave in to the desire to urge her along with a pat on the rear. “I’ll need to get some supplies. Twenty minutes.”

  As he left the room and walked to his car, he had to wonder if delusions ran in his family. He could barely remember the task force when Alyssa was wearing pants and a blouse. How would he control himself when she was wearing next to nothing?

  When her motel room door slammed shut, Alyssa slumped against the bathroom wall and banged her head against it. Oh God. A few hours alone with Rémi in close quarters. How was she going to resist temptation when she got wet just looking at him? When he acted caring and charming like he was today, the battle was as good as lost.

  Warmth flooded her cheeks. She had to get herself under control before he re
turned. Opening the bathtub faucet, she adjusted the water to cold—very cold—before jumping under the shower spray.

  After her behavior last night, she’d had no idea how Rémi would act toward her. On the phone, he’d been polite, but there’d been no hint of anything more, no hint of what they’d almost shared. In fact, she’d thought he’d swung back over to the cold side of the hot-and-cold pendulum. But now she wasn’t so sure. Her receiver must be broken because she was definitely getting some mixed messages from him. He’d kept his distance. Hadn’t touched her at all. But when she’d touched him, the heat flaring in his eyes had almost singed her.

  The frigid spray doused the lingering effects of seeing Rémi and feeling his heat. Alone in her shower was where she always asked herself the tough questions. Today was no exception.

  Why had she touched him? Was she so desperate for comfort and affection? Gauthier and Landry had been more than clear how they felt about her lack of professionalism where Rémi was concerned. Even though it rankled, she knew they were right. To some degree.

  When the task force voted her way and she put her native squad in place, she’d need Rémi as an ally. But she couldn’t do it by manipulating him. And that’s exactly how it would look to everyone if they were dating.

  She couldn’t let that happen. Not as long as they were working together. She never wanted Rémi to think she’d used him in any way.

  Her mind made up, she turned off the water and wrapped herself in a towel. Heart-heavy, she dried herself off and stepped into her red bikini. After pulling on a pair of denim shorts and a pink tank top, she slathered on a liberal coating of sunscreen. On the water, her pale skin would roast to an ugly red in minutes.

  A final dab of mascara and a swipe of lip gloss, and she was ready. Glancing at her watch lying on the counter, she gasped. While she’d been moaning and groaning about why she couldn’t sleep with the hottest man she’d ever met, time had flown.