by Liliana Hart
“This is my life, Zeke. Don’t try to fuck me over. And don’t try to feed me lines about you retiring from undercover work. All of a sudden seven years seems like an eternity. I don’t know you anymore. And there’s no reason to trust you.”
“You have every reason to trust me. I love you, and as soon as this job is over I’m done. I just need to gather some facts before I start talking about things that might not have anything to do with you and everything to do with keeping other people alive.”
Mia stayed quiet, not sure how to respond to his declaration of love. He’d never been one to say it often, but when he did she treasured those moments. And she hated that she couldn’t be sure he meant it this time. Time had passed. Things had changed. And there was always an agenda.
She parked next to Cooper’s Tahoe in the back of the parking lot. There was another truck she didn’t recognize parked next to him, and three men stood in front of it. A fire truck with flashing lights was parked to the side of the building, but far enough away not to damage the scene. She tried not to despair at the sight of her missing front door. Other than that, on the outside, it looked untouched.
At least the building was standing. Anything else she could deal with. As if reading her mind, Zeke squeezed her shoulder as they walked over to the others, but she shrugged him off. Sympathy wasn’t what she needed at that moment. Not if she wanted to keep it together. What she really needed was a cup of coffee.
“The alarm company silenced the alarms,” Cooper said. “You’ll need to call them to set things back up once you’re ready to roll.”
“Definitely not someone passing by looking for a quick buck,” Zeke said, hands on hips as he surveyed the scene.
“Not by a long shot. They came prepared and knew what they were doing. Deputy Greyson was first on scene. The fire department pulled in right after him.”
Mia knew Lane Greyson well. His wife, Naya, was one of her closest friends. Naya was a bounty hunter, and they’d hit it off immediately.
“Sorry about this, Mia,” Lane said. “I know what this place means to you.”
“Is the inside as bad as I think it’s going to be?” she asked him.
His lips pinched together. “I brought you a to-go cup of coffee. It’s in the cab of my truck.”
“That bad, huh,” she said, her stomach tied in knots. She went to the cab of the truck and opened the door, grabbing the thermal coffee mug from the middle console. Zeke introduced himself to Lane and they shook hands, and then he shook hands with Riley MacKenzie and slapped him on the shoulder. Mia was guessing he knew all the MacKenzie brothers as well as he did Cooper.
“What dragged you out of bed before noon?” Zeke asked Riley.
Where Cooper was dark-haired and blue-eyed, Riley was his polar opposite with blond hair and brown eyes. They had the same square jaw and eye shape, but at first glance it was hard to tell they were brothers. And then she looked closer and noticed they were very much cut from the same cloth, with broad builds and fighting man’s hands. Neither of them looked as if they’d ever backed away from a fight. No wonder Zeke got along so well with them. He carried himself the same way.
“A crying baby,” Riley answered. “It was my shift for middle of the night duty, so I was wide awake when Cooper texted. Of course, by the time I left the house the baby was sleeping again and the whole house was quiet. I figured it’d be better to tag along than to get my hopes up by lying down and trying to go to sleep.”
“Sounds like fun,” Zeke said. “I’m thinking of having kids in the next forty years or so.”
“Hey, Picasso did it. It’s good to have goals, man.”
“Has there been time to secure the scene?” Mia asked. She knew the drill. Knew they were standing out in the parking lot for a reason. But God, she wanted to get in there and see what they’d destroyed.
“We walked the perimeter when we arrived,” Cooper said. “Anyone who was here was long gone, but you’ll see the marks on the sidewalk. I put the word out for who we’re looking for.”
Mia followed them toward the front of the shop, her boots crunching over gravel. She didn’t see what Cooper was talking about until she was almost on top of it.
“Skid marks,” she said. And one of the motorcycles who’d left it had ridden up her stairs and left them on the porch as well.
“Any reason why a group of bikers would pay you a visit, Mia?” Zeke asked.
Unlike the rookie who’d been standing in her shop yesterday, she knew how to lie. Years of practice made it as easy as breathing. There were techniques they’d been taught at specials ops classes that helped with the art of lying—body language, facial expressions, and making sure the lies were close enough to the truth that you didn’t forget and stumble somewhere along the way.
“Not that I can think of,” she answered. The music box was still in her backpack in the car. She knew she’d have to tell Zeke about the biker and the music box, but now wasn’t the time or the place. If the details were part of whatever op he was running then Cooper and the others wouldn’t know what was going on. And anything they found out could endanger a life.
She looked at Zeke and asked, “Any coincidence as to why bikers would show up and do this the same day you roll back into my life?”
“Not that I can think of,” he said, parroting her.
“We didn’t find any other breached areas,” Cooper said, heading up the short stairs to her porch. “They knew the entry point they wanted and knew how to enter. This is a reinforced steel door and at night you pull down the cage behind it for added security.”
“Yeah, but nothing is infallible,” she said. “Obviously. But it’s a time-consuming job. They had to cut through the hinges and remove the door completely. The alarm would’ve been sounding, but guys like that wouldn’t care. And they’d have the right tools on hand to be able to get in. They’d use the same blade on the pull-down cage and then walk in. There are at least eight or ten skid marks and grooves dug into the gravel of the parking lot.”
“Ballsy to draw such attention to themselves,” Lane said.
“No one is ever on this stretch of road after midnight.”
Zeke walked off toward the road and she could tell he was trying to get a better feel for how many there were, which direction they’d entered from, and hopefully, which direction they’d exited.
“They’d know Surrender would be the closest responding department,” Mia said.
“And that we only have one on-duty officer working the night shift,” Cooper finished for her, his look grim. “Proof of the liabilities of being a small town and working with a limited budget.”
“This isn’t your fault.” She wanted to make sure he knew that. “It’s location and timing. I’m pretty far outside of town. By design. And even though I’m technically part of Surrender, you and I both know that if I were on the other side of that hill with the other businesses, this never would’ve happened. But I’m not and there’s no easy way for emergency personnel to get here. They knew they had at least twenty minutes to get the job done.”
Zeke walked back to their group and said, “They split off in each direction. Pretty typical behavior. We can assume this is the work of The Vaqueros since this is their territory. And they’re known to converge on a location, wreak havoc, and then separate so they can lay low for a while. They’re well organized and they run an intelligent operation. I’ve watched the way they work from the inside. It’s why they’ve been so successful running drugs these past years. They’re like ghosts.”
“We can try and pull identities from the security cameras,” she said, “but knowing who they are won’t help us on how to find them. Identifying them and plastering their faces on the news is like a badge of honor.”
“Which brings us back to the question,” Riley said. “Why here and why you?”
Cooper looked at her and said, “Have you had any run-ins with The Vaqueros?”
“I threatened to shoot one yesterday,” she
said. “I suppose he could’ve taken it personally.”
All four men stared at her with varying degrees of surprise on their faces. “What? You know I’m always armed and I don’t put up with bullshit in my place.”
“Or maybe you could’ve mentioned it?” Zeke said.
“When would’ve been a good time? When you popped up in my shop asking for the same item the biker was, or maybe when you showed up at my apartment to get me into bed? You’re right, Zeke. I should’ve confessed the second you showed up. My bad.”
Riley coughed to cover a laugh and Cooper looked down at his boots, but she could see his smile. Lane never showed much expression at all, but she knew him well enough to see that he wanted to smile.
Zeke’s jaw was clenched hard and all he said was, “Mia,” in that tone of voice that didn’t bode well.
She arched a brow and narrowed her eyes. Now wasn’t the time for him to try any macho bullshit.
“Might as well check out the inside,” Cooper said. “You can see if anything is missing.”
They stepped through the gaping hole where her front door had once been, and Mia had to stifle a gasp. Her heart thudded in her chest and a red haze clouded her vision. Everything was destroyed. The shelves were knocked down, the floor littered with broken glass. They’d not gotten the more expensive pieces locked behind the counter, though she could see the scratches on the bulletproof glass.
“What was the biker looking for?” Cooper asked.
Mia stepped over glass and an electric guitar that was broken in half. “He asked for a music box. Was very specific about what kind he wanted. He said that he’d been told someone had come in and sold it to me. He offered to double my money.” She could hear the hollowness of her own voice.
“I told him he was mistaken and that I didn’t have a piece like that. He got close and told me I’d better rethink my answer, so I cocked the sawed off I’ve got stashed under the counter. He decided to leave after that.”
“He make any threats?”
She sighed. “Yeah, he said he’d come back for a visit with his brothers.”
“Jesus, Mia,” Zeke said. “Why wouldn’t you report something like that?”
“Because I can take care of myself,” she said, whirling on Zeke. “I was a cop, remember? How would reporting it have changed anything? There’s not enough manpower to put out a protection detail.”
“And now you’ve got a target on your back.”
“They did what they came to do,” she said. “They destroyed and still didn’t find what they were looking for. There’s no reason for them to come back here. But they might target other pawnshops in the area if their intel tells them that’s where the music box ended up.”
“We’ll put an alert out to all the surrounding areas,” Cooper said. “We’ll get in and out of here quickly so you can get the insurance company in and start going through your inventory.”
“What’s left of it,” she said, looking around at the shambles of a room.
“I’ll grab Thomas and Dane and we’ll come back and put in a makeshift door with a sturdy deadbolt,” Riley said, speaking of his other two brothers. “At least it’ll deter anyone wanting to snoop or help themselves to what’s available.”
“I’d appreciate it. This is definitely going to put a dent in my new parking lot fund.”
“I can call in a couple of favors,” Zeke said. “I’ve got men at the DEA office that are twiddling their thumbs, waiting for a big case to drop. They can set up a patrol in the area and keep an eye out to make sure you don’t get another visit.”
“We’ll coordinate with the surrounding departments and set up checkpoints and hot spots. The problem with The Vaqueros is their clubhouses are in the mountains. We might not see them for weeks. Or until they need supplies. And if we get a snowfall during that time it could be even longer.”
“Lovely,” Mia said. “Well, there’s no use wasting time when there’s work to be done. How soon do you think I can call insurance and we can start cleanup?”
“Should be ready for insurance this evening if he’s available. You can probably start cleanup tomorrow.”
She nodded and glanced at Zeke. He was staring at a painting that had fallen off the wall like it held the secret of life. It was a contemporary oil with bright colors, and she’d briefly thought about taking it home and hanging it in her dining room.
She thought about the music box tucked safely in her bag. She needed to get rid of Zeke so she could go through it in private. He’d been too secretive since his arrival the day before, and no matter what he said about still loving her, seven years was a long time. And people changed. Especially people who’d lived that underground life and spent their days and nights lying to people. She wasn’t about to get caught in the middle of something that might ruin the life she’d built for herself.
As if reading her mind, Zeke turned his head and looked at her intently. “I’m bunking with you,” he said. “And don’t even think about arguing. I’ll sleep on the couch if I have to, but it’s too dangerous. You need someone to watch your back.”
Or he needed to be right in the thick of things and she was the easiest access point, she thought.
Chapter Six
A week later, the first frost glittered across the top of the ground like tiny diamonds. And to Mia’s surprise and supreme gratitude, her shop was cleaned up, the door repaired, and she’d managed to restock some of her inventory.
She’d never expected the outpouring of support from the community, and she never would’ve thought to ask for it. But almost as soon as she’d gotten back into town people were stopping her on the street, asking what they could do to help. And then the next morning, a group of people showed up at her shop unannounced with brooms and vacuums and cleaning supplies, and they all got to work.
She still didn’t know how to respond. A thank you seemed inadequate. In her line of work she’d never expected the best from people, so their generosity astounded her. People donated items they were getting rid of, so by the end of the week everything looked almost as it had before, though the shelves were still a little bare.
Zeke had been true to his word and had stayed at her place. She hated to admit it, but having him there did ease her mind a bit. She’d been annoyed at his high-handedness and had given him an extra pillow and a blanket for the couch that first night after the break-in. He’d taken it with a smirk and a wicked glint in his eyes.
And then she’d been woken up sometime in the middle of the night, her shirt pushed up around her waist and his head between her thighs. She’d been dreaming of him, and then she’d woken to find her dream a reality. He hadn’t slept on the couch since, and her muscles were sore in all the right places. Zeke had always been a thorough and athletic lover.
They also hadn’t spoken of the past or his work. He still hadn’t told her why he’d really come. But he’d continued to say he was retiring from undercover work, to the point that she wanted to believe him. He had to give the mayor an answer about the chief’s job in Carson by the end of the month, and she’d be lying if it hadn’t sneaked into her mind that Carson wasn’t all that far of a commute from Surrender.
She’d forgotten how comfortable they’d always been with each other—the easy conversations, the things they had in common, the sports teams they argued over. Remembering the arguments had been the easiest thing to do. But there’d been more good times than bad.
They’d fallen into an easy rhythm. He’d leave sometime after midnight and go into work, or he’d disappear for an hour or so at random times throughout the day. Then he’d show up randomly at her shop, pitch in to help, and leave again. She remembered how it was. The erratic schedules. The missed sleep, anniversaries, holidays, and birthdays. The only difference was he no longer talked to her about work. It was the albatross in the room.
“You ready to call it a night?” he asked as she looked over the shop one final time to make sure everything was in place. She’d be back
open for business on Monday.
“More than ready. I need a hot bath and pizza. Maybe a pizza while sitting in the hot bath.”
“How about a trip to Duffey’s instead? We can play a game of pool, eat hot wings, and drink half-price beer.”
“Well, hell, that sounds way better than soaking my aching feet.”
He grinned and tossed an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “I’ll spot you a couple of balls since you’re so tired.”
“The hell you will,” she said, her spine straightening.
He chuckled and they headed to Duffey’s. It was the after-work crowd for the most part, but a lot of them had already thinned out to head home for dinner. The live music didn’t start until ten o’clock, so they still had time to play and be able to hear themselves.
Duffey’s didn’t cater to the tourist crowd. It was a local bar with sawdust on the floors, scarred tables, and draft beer and a small selection of wine. There were no mixed drinks or cocktails. Trophy antlers hung on all the walls and she was pretty sure they’d never seen a dust rag.
Zeke went to the bar to order drinks and chatted with Duffey while he was waiting. She’d learned over the last several years that Duffey never smiled. He’d owned the bar for close to fifty years, and from the pictures hanging on the wall, he hadn’t changed a bit in those fifty years. He always wore a white undershirt and trousers with a larger white butcher apron tied several times around his scrawny waist. The tuft of gray hair circling the bald patch on the top of his hair was coarse and wiry, and round, wire-framed glasses sat perched at the end of his nose. His lips were thin and he always looked like he’d just swallowed something sour.
Mia had learned early on that the best course of action was to stay off his radar, so she headed toward the back room where the pool tables were located. She passed Jana Metcalfe along the way. Jana had been a waitress at Duffey’s since long before Mia had moved there. She was pleasantly plump and somewhere in her mid to late thirties, and she always had a wide and infectious smile.