Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  Alyssa took a sip of her water. “I read the file on that case. I’m very sorry for your loss, Martha. If it makes you feel any better, the SQ will never agree to the Guardians being in charge of policing the reserve.”

  “Since we had a tribal force before and they did nothing to prevent the rise of the Guardians, nothing to stop the penetration of drugs and alcohol into our community, and nothing to stop the increase in violence and crime, I’m definitely in favor of trying something new,” Martha said. “An SQ squad, if there are natives on it, seems like an ideal compromise.”

  “Does the rest of the band council agree with you?” Alyssa asked.

  Martha angled her head. “It’s a nine-three split. The majority of the council, including the grand chief, has no objections to the SQ’s proposal. The only condition is that the council should have interview privileges, so we can reject candidates who aren’t a good fit.”

  Tommy leaned toward Martha. “But if we have an SQ squad, with natives or not, the enemy would have full authority on the rez. Don’t you want a tribal force with Rémi in charge?”

  Rémi glanced at Alyssa. This, for them at least, was the crux of the matter. Either he was in charge or she was. And if he was, where did that leave her? She’d come here to lead a squad, and if there was no squad for her to lead, where would she go? Having her leave town would be the perfect way to end their affair. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that. But as his gaze landed on her amber eyes, a sharp pang tightened his chest. What was it? Regret? Loss? Yeah, there wasn’t a perfect way to end their time together. There probably wasn’t even a good way.

  Tommy elbowed him in the ribs. He turned to glare at his cousin before realizing that Martha was talking. “It isn’t that I don’t think you would make a great Chief of Police, Rémi, because I do. But with all the family connections between the main factions on the reserve, many of us feel an outsider would have more perspective. And less opportunity for favoritism and corruption.”

  Pain, like a knife stabbed deep in his heart, pierced Rémi. Beside him, Tommy jerked back as if he’d been slugged. Was this what the community thought of him? “You think I can be bought or swayed by family ties?”

  “No!” she said, her eyes darting between him and Tommy. “I’m not saying that at all. But you two aren’t always going to be around. Others will be involved, and there’s too much potential for abuse down the road. Family connections can be so strong; I’d kill to protect Ellie. Any one of us could be swayed if our loved ones were involved. That’s why I prefer to take my chances with complete strangers from a more rigid institution.”

  The knowledge hurt, but his wounded pride wouldn’t speak for him. Martha had every right to feel the way she did; the past had proven that. He forced his expression to remain blank. “I understand what you’re saying, Martha, even if I don’t agree with it. One thing we do agree on is that Alyssa would make a terrific leader.”

  Tommy threw his hands up. “Fuck, Rémi. You’re proving Martha’s point.”

  “What point?”

  “About being easily swayed. Just because you’re sleeping with Alyssa—”

  “That’s not it at all.” He found Alyssa’s gaze and held it. “I want to be Chief of Police, but more importantly, I want to restore order to Blackriver. Our community has more than one option and several viable leaders. As members of the task force, it’s our duty to suggest to the committee the best option for the tribe. The option that has the most likelihood of acceptance.”

  “The majority of the tribe will never accept the SQ or the Guardians being in charge,” Tommy said.

  Her expression softening, Alyssa gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  Rémi’s stomach lurched. What did that mean? Was Gauthier pulling her out? Fuck. She couldn’t leave yet. He’d only just started getting her out of his system. Another couple hundred nights in bed with her might be enough. If she left now, his balls would be blue for years.

  And his heart? Fuck his heart. This relationship was casual.

  If he kept repeating that, maybe he’d eventually believe the lie.

  The thumping bass of loud rock music reached his ears even in the parking lot. Chaz studied Pete and Corey. His second looked the part and ready for anything. The boy looked ready to piss his pants.

  The Snake Pit, a popular hangout for the Vipers, featured topless waitresses, private rooms, and pool tables. Everything a biker could want at the end of a busy day of drug deals, extortion, and blackmail. The request to meet Antoine “The Carver” Blanchette here tonight had been unexpected. That the big boss had made the call instead of Nitro had been unsettling. He glanced at Corey again. The kid shouldn’t be here—Sarah would kill him if she found out—but he’d needed backup and the Vipers already knew Pete and Corey.

  He led his posse around to the back door and knocked twice in a row, paused and knocked once more, exactly as he’d been instructed. A massive slab of a man in blue jeans and a red muscle shirt opened the door and glowered at Chaz. “What the fuck do you want?”

  “Blanchette asked for a meet.”

  The man eyed him up and down, scorn evident on his blunt features. “Name.”

  “The Jackal.”

  “And them?” he asked, indicating Pete and Corey with a jerk of his head.

  “The big one’s Hyena. And the small one,” he paused, focusing on Corey for a second. His lips twitched. “He’s Meerkat.”

  The guard shook his head and spit on the ground. “One more and we’d have ourselves a fucking petting zoo.” He stepped back, letting the door slam shut with a loud clang.

  Pete’s face was calm, impassive as stone. But the boy’s eyes were wild, darting between the door and Chaz and Pete. Maybe the reality of their situation was dawning on him. It was certainly dawning on Chaz. They were unarmed, as ordered. He didn’t even have a fucking pocketknife. Those guys in there probably had an arsenal. If The Carver decided to eliminate them, they’d be like blonde pussy at a frat party—nothing could save them.

  The door swung open, and the same guard stuck his face out. “You’re clear.”

  The nauseating stench of sweat, sex, and beer assailed Chaz’s nose as they followed the man through the back rooms to the dimly lit main salon, where a couple of tired women in G-strings and pasties gyrated against each other on stage. Fuck, he hated places like this. White men treated their women like animals, and yet they called his people savages. Behind him, he heard Corey say, “Oh, man,” then Pete’s gruff voice, “Move it or lose it, kid.”

  The guard ushered them to a cordoned VIP section to the left of the stage and indicated a table where a large dark-haired man sat alone at a table for four. A thick scar bisected his lips, puckering them on one side in a perpetual grimace. The Carver.

  As he sat in one of the empty seats, Chaz scanned the bar. Not a blond-haired bastard in sight. Where the fuck was Nitro?

  A waitress arrived with four chilled glasses and beers. She set them on the table, but before she could give Corey a beer, Chaz stopped her. “Give him a Coke.” If Corey chose to defy the rules of the Longhouse by drinking alcohol, that was his business, but he wouldn’t be doing it in front of Chaz.

  If the situation hadn’t been so tense, he’d have laughed at Corey’s expression when the waitress returned moments later and set the Coke in front of him, pressing her bare breasts against his arm. It was hard to tell if the kid wanted to fuck the woman or run in the opposite direction.

  Pete snorted, drowning the sound in his beer. Chaz shot him a black look. His second’s beliefs were as watered down as his drink.

  The Carver raised his mug and emptied it in one long gulp. Then he turned to Chaz. “What’s your plan for the SQ bitch?”

  The air left his lungs. “Plan?” Chaz croaked on the exhale.

  “She’s going to fuck everything up.”

  Pete laughed. “The cunt’s too busy chasing Indian cock to bother us much.”

  “Don’t underestimate her,” Blanchette sai
d. “You know how I became president of the Vipers? The bitch took down my boss.”

  “How?” Chaz asked.

  “Infiltrated the club. Snowed all of us and got access to certain evidence.”

  Chaz felt his eyebrows rise despite his attempt at a poker face. “You sure we’re talking about the same person?” The woman he’d met could have passed more easily for a debutante than a biker chick. How could she have tricked hard-core gangsters into believing she was one of them?

  “Sergeant Alyssa Morgan. The one and only.”

  Okay. So Miss Congeniality had faced off against Jack “The Ripper” Lalonde and won. One thing didn’t make sense though. “Such a high profile case should have earned her a promotion or at least some brownie points. So what’s she doing in St. Xavier?”

  The Carver lolled back in his chair and crossed his legs. “From what I heard, the SQ didn’t like that one of theirs could cross the line so far. I guess they wondered how much was an act and how much was real.”

  “How did it look to you?”

  “Indisputable. Or she’d be dead.”

  “What does this have to do with our deal? Morgan’s so tied up with the task force, she’s not even thinking about anything else. Besides, Nitro told me you had the SQ covered.”

  “I do,” Blanchette said, lighting a cigarette. “Our SQ contact wants her gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Six feet under.”

  Were they fucking crazy? Hadn’t he just had this conversation with Pete a few days ago?

  Corey choked on his Coke. Chaz kicked him under the table. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but here are the facts: we kill her and within an hour the rez will be swarming with SQ officers. Less than an hour after that, they’ll find our grow op.” He hated the bitch and wanted her out of the way as much as The Carver seemed to, but killing her would bring more trouble than it was worth. One cop was easier to handle than a hundred.

  “Get rid of her. My contact will cover it up. No one will ever know you were involved.”

  “Why doesn’t Nitro do it? Isn’t this his specialty?”

  “Two reasons. First, he’s away on a job. Second, it’ll be easier to cover up if it happens on the rez.”

  “How high up is this SQ guy?”

  “I never said it was a guy.” The Carver leaned his elbows on the table and blew smoke in Chaz’s face. “My contact has the power to erase this.”

  Chaz pretended the acrid cloud—and the insult behind it—didn’t bother him. “Why don’t they transfer her out then?”

  “She just got this position. I guess it would seem suspicious.”

  Pete set his empty glass down. “I’ll do it.”

  The grimace on The Carver’s face stretched into a grotesque smile. “Excellent. You’ve got five days. Make it good. Now, onto the next item of business. Nitro told me your idea for lacing the product. I like it. Find the right variant and quantity, then send a mixed sample over. If everything works out, we’ll take the first drop in one week.” After agreeing that Corey would deliver the sample to the Snake Pit in three days, they left the bar.

  Twenty minutes later, Chaz flopped down into his favorite recliner. He had the house to himself for a few hours. Sarah had taken the boys into town to catch some action hero movie they were dying to see. Corey stood beside Pete. Chaz smiled. The kid learned well. He’d be a good addition to the Guardians. When he nodded, they sat on the couch. But the kid kept tugging on his shirt and tapping his feet, like he had something on his mind. “What’s bothering you?”

  Corey lifted a shoulder. “Just wondering what you’re going to lace the pot with.”

  Pete lifted a brow. His second wasn’t privy to his plans either. But the time had come to share.

  “Stay here,” Chaz said, getting up from his chair. In the den, he opened the wall safe and pulled out several packets of bath salt drugs he’d purchased at a local head shop. The colorful packets had names like Ivory Wave, Eight Ballz, and White Lightning. To ensure he had a full range of products, he’d anonymously ordered vials of another brand called Drone.

  After relocking the safe, he returned to the living room and dumped the samples on the coffee table. Like a jack-in-the-box, Corey bent forward and reached for a packet of Ivory Wave. “What is this stuff?” He read the name on the packaging. “Laundry detergent?”

  “Bath salts.”

  “For Sarah?”

  Pete picked up a vial of Drone. “Where’ve you been, kid? This here is MDPV. Still legal in some places, relatively cheap, and widely available on the Internet.” He smiled at Chaz. “Brilliant.”

  “What’s the effect?” Corey asked.

  Chaz shrugged. “I’ve heard it’s like speed.”

  “So the opposite of pot.”

  “Yeah, I’m thinking the combination will be a comfortable high with a burst of energy.”

  Pete set the vial on the table and picked up Eight Ballz. “Have you decided which brand to use?”

  “Not yet. We need to do some tests.”

  Corey’s head jerked up. “Want me to try it out?”

  Chaz frowned. The idea had crossed his mind, but he’d invested a lot of time in the kid. He’d already passed two tests and had potential. “We talked about this. If you want to be a Guardian, you’ve got to lay off the drugs. You still want that, don’t you?”

  Corey swallowed. “Sure, man. I just wanted to offer my help. Thought I’d take one for the team, you know?” He grinned and stood up. “I’ll go then. Ellie and I are hanging out tonight, and her shift at the diner is almost over.”

  After Corey left, Pete’s gaze landed on Chaz. “You saw? He took some.”

  He let out a sigh. Yeah, he’d seen Corey pocket the packet of SexTacy. “I’m disappointed. He would’ve made a good Guardian. On the bright side, we do need some fool to test it out.” Pete nodded. “Now, let’s talk about tonight’s meeting. Why the fuck did you agree to erase the SQ bitch?”

  “I’m not letting that skinny little white whore ruin everything we’ve worked for.” His voice was a growl.

  Chaz threw his head back and laughed. “You’re only pissed because she bested you in front of the guys. If you got your head out of your ass, you’d see we’ve got much bigger problems than her.”

  “Like what?”

  “The Defenders are backing Rémi and this fucking tribal police force he’s trying to ram down our throats.”

  “The Longhouse should kick their asses out, bunch of band-council lackeys.”

  “Exactly. We’ve got to show the Longhouse that they don’t need tribal cops when they’ve got us—the traditional enforcers of the Great Law.”

  “I like the way you think. If we’re in charge, we can do whatever we want. We’ll have more money than we can imagine. But”—Pete paused and frowned—“don’t you see? This is why we need to off the bitch. Once she’s gone, the whole task force will fall apart, and the Guardians will look like the obvious answer.”

  “Something about this bugs me.” Chaz rubbed the back of his neck. “If The Carver’s contact is so high up in the SQ, why can’t they control her? And even if they can’t, if we have to have cops, we’d have less trouble with Morgan than with Tommy and Rémi. You know what I mean? Who’d give any help to the SQ? She’d find nothing but stone faces.”

  “The Carver’s worried about her and that worries me.” Pete leaned back on the couch, bringing an ankle to his knee, and toyed with the laces of his tennis shoes. “Think about it, man. The woman’s more than she seems. Shit. She fucking had the whole Vipers crew convinced she was just some biker chick.”

  Chaz blew out a long breath. He didn’t care enough one way or another to keep fighting about this. “Do it if you want, but cover your ass. I don’t trust The Carver or his supposed SQ contact.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll—”

  He held up a hand. “Don’t do it on the rez. Don’t make it look like an Indian kill. And for fuck’s sake, don’t tell me anything about
it.”

  Plausible deniability and all that.

  Alyssa’s pulse sprinted as she locked the door to the cruiser and walked up the front steps to Rémi’s house. She was on duty tonight, but she’d wanted to see him—needed to see him—even if only for a few minutes. The door opened before she could knock and the object of her thoughts pulled her against his chest. He buried his face in her hair and whispered, “Do you have any idea how hot you are in uniform?”

  Laughing, she pressed against his erection and swiveled her hips. “So figures of authority turn you on? Are you interested in a little… domination, Mr. Whitedeer?”

  Rémi’s eyes twinkled as he removed the handcuffs from her belt and twirled them around on his finger. “If you’re prepared to return the favor.”

  Was she? Kink had never excited her before. But a little bondage with the right man, with Rémi, might be fun. She pulled his head down and captured his mouth. His tongue teased the sensitive inside of her lips before entwining around hers, the rasp sending bolts of electricity straight between her legs. God, she’d waited all day for this. To touch him, to taste him. To feel the heat of his hard body. His hands cupped her butt and he lifted her up. Feeling light and very feminine, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her inside and kicked the door shut.

  He set her on the dining room table and tore his lips from hers to slide them down her neck, nipping her skin lightly along the way. Driving her crazy. “How much time do you have?” he murmured.

  At the sound of his voice, low and husky with arousal, her nipples beaded and pushed against the bulletproof vest. Reminding her. Shit. She shouldn’t be doing this. Inhaling deeply, she gently pushed on his chest. “I’m still on duty.”

  “You’re killing me,” he said, dropping his head to her shoulder. His harsh exhales made her smile.

  She reached down and rubbed the bulge in his pants. “I promise I’ll take care of this as soon as my shift’s over.”