Sliding off, she sat next to him and cuddled against him. He pushed back her hair and kissed her forehead.
After long moments, she moved away. “You should go.”
He stood up, fastening his jeans while he looked at her. She knew she must have made quite a display, lying naked against the couch, but didn’t move.
He kissed her again, hard. “I…I’ll see you tonight,” he said.
“You don’t have to.”
He looked back and smiled, sheepish for the first time. “I know. But how do you expect me to get through a night without seeing your face at least one?”
CHAPTER 19
Once he left her apartment, Tom took his first deep breath in hours. Riding down the highway, he felt the pure freedom of the road race over his body and realized it was the first time in a year he'd felt so empty and so full at the same time.
The rage melted away and left him with something bright and shining. So much time passed since the last day without rage that the feeling would have been hollow if the peace Grace left behind hadn’t settled into him.
By the time he reached the club, he was in the best mood he could remember. It was going to be easy, he realized. Grace would forgive him when she understood why he'd lied—because she understood family and understood what his meant to him. She'd be mad, sure, but they'd make up.
And then he could start living life again.
Butch had taken everything from him when he murdered his father. But he wasn't going to let the man have the rest of his life.
The next few hours were filled with math. Liquid license renewal issues. The question of whether it would be worth it to put in more outdoor seating come the spring. He lost himself in it, not feeling resentful of the work for the first time in ages.
Everything was going to be better. Everything. He'd give it another two weeks and if they still hadn't tracked down Butch, he'd tell Ace they'd find another way.
Which was what Ace had been telling him since the moment they discovered the truth.
He could be with a cop. As long as that cop was Grace.
Tom poured himself a cup of coffee and dumped in some cream, not bothering to stir before he took a large swallow. His father had always asked for “so much cream, the coffee looks like sand” but he just added a large splash to his.
Looking at the coffee reminded him of a morning in his father's study when he was still too young to sit on a motorcycle by himself.
“I love your mother, Tom. She gave me everything, and then she gave me you and Tori, too.” He walked to the window and looked out. “And I love the club.”
“Me too.” Tom said, though looking back, he knew that the child he was hadn't understood love or sacrifice. He'd just knew that he liked the gruff men with facial hair and leather jackets with patches. He loved his fierce father and silly mother and sister who was all knees and elbows.
“Come over here.” Tom walked over and stood next to his father, who ruffled his hair. “One day you're going to be grown up and maybe you'll be a member of the Storm Runners, too.”
“I will,” Tom said. He'd always known he would.
“You'll decide when you're older, and if you make it in, no father will be prouder.” Max looked down at him then, his blue eyes wicked and serious at once. “But no matter what else you do, one day you'll meet a woman you'll love with everything you are. You'll be willing to give up anything for her. That's how you'll know she's the one.”
“Like with mom?”
“Yes.” Max grinned. “I'd give up anything for your mom—but she'd never ask me to. Maybe that's part of why I love her so much.”
That his parents were deeply, passionately in love had never been a secret. Maybe it was part of what had inspired his dream of a wife and a family; it was a dream shared by few others in the Storm Runners, many of whom were content to date or hook up with the women who came to the parties. Jack had found Anna, sure, but that hadn't been something he was looking for.
Tom had always kept an eye open for the woman who meant more to him than the club, though. The Storm Runners had always been the thing he'd measured love against—because he loved his family, would walk away from the club if they'd needed him to, and couldn't imagine loving a wife any less.
And, he decided in that moment, he would walk away if that's what Grace needed.
But Tom had watched her eyes closely when he'd talked about the club. Seen that she was interested and not immediately condemning, despite all she'd heard. She would be able to understand the good they could do—the good they were doing—and see that the rough parts didn't have to be a part of her life.
He didn't need to go out at night, and damn if he didn't think Grace would enjoy the Storm Runners barbecues as much as he did.
“Knock, knock.” Jack's voice interrupted his thoughts as he rapped his knuckles on the door. “Dave said you were back here. Got a minute?”
“Yeah, what's up?” Tom shoved the paperwork back into his desk, deciding he'd done enough to walk away for the day.
“Club stuff,” Jack said. “I've been keeping an ear open for any news on Butch.”
“And?” Instead of being hungry for vengeance, the first thing that rushed through Tom was relief. The hope that he might get to tell Grace the truth sooner rather than later.
“Some cop saw one of his men mid-abduction and stopped him from completing it. They're putting a hit out on the guy today.” Jack shook his head. Tom knew he had no love for cops, but he also didn't believe in killing men in cold blood. “You might want to let Grace know in case there's something she can do to stop it. Maybe she can put a call into the station.”
“Another abduction was stopped?”
“I guess so,” said Jack. “Because he specifically said they're putting out a hit on him. A man. Not a woman.”
“I'll call Grace.” Tom said. “Maybe she can stop it from happening.” He picked up the phone and hit recent calls, then tapped her name.
“Hey. Missing me already?” He couldn't help but smile at the sound of her voice.
“I am,” he said, “but that's not why I'm calling. We have information that says someone in the trafficking ring might be putting out a hit on a cop who saw and prevented an abduction today.”
“Does that mean me?”
“They said a man.” The thought of her being the target of an assassin made his blood run cold.
“I didn't hear about any other aborted abductions.” She paused for so long that he checked the screen to make sure she hadn't disconnected. “I'll make some calls.”
“Call me back when you're done.” He said. They disconnected and he turned to Jack. “She hasn't heard of any officers being involved in abductions.”
“You think they might be going for your girl?”
“It's a risk I'm not willing to take.”
“Let's get on the road, then. Where is she now?”
They were both on their bikes and pulling out of the parking lot less than a minute later. They were almost to her apartment when Tom's phone started vibrating and he gestured to Jack to pull off the road. Tom pulled off his helmet, checked the missed calls and pressed on Grace's name.
“I was riding,” he said when she picked up.
“To where.”
“Depends. Where are you?”
“I'm down near those shops on the west side,” she said. “It’s almost time for the pedicure. The weekly one? Remember?”
“Did any of your calls get information on other abductions?”
“It's been a quiet few weeks,” she said. “At least for the police force. Nothing about any kidnappings that relate to the trafficking ring—nothing about any kidnappings that have been prevented at all, to be honest. And my chief would tell me if there had been from another undercover officer, because he knows the risk this puts me under.”
“We need to get you somewhere safe.”
“But if it was a man...”
“This information isn't from a relia
ble source. All I know is a cop could get killed today and the woman who means the most to me in my life is a cop. So you're going to get off the fucking street until I get to you, and then I'm going to take you away with me.”
“But where will we go?”
“I don't know yet.” Tom sighed. “What's close to you?”
“Just come to my salon. It's next to that pizza place I took you to last week. The one with the buratta?”
“I remember.” Tom said. “I'll be there soon.” He hung up with Grace and dismounted, knocked the kickstand into place and walked back to Jack. “Grace didn't hear about another cop.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. She's downtown. Follow me and let's take her out of Detroit.”
“I'm right behind you.”
_____
Grace released the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding when she pushed through the door and entered the salon. The air was rich with the scent of massage oil and nail polish remover. Maybe because her job was so stereotypically masculine, she was attracted to both scents with equal ferocity. They spoke of things soft and lovely and feminine.
“Grace.” The receptionist smiled at her. “You're a little late.”
“I know,” she said, sheepish. “I hate to say this, but I'm going to have to cancel for today.” She slid her purse off her shoulder and pulled her wallet from it. “Here's the money for the appointment and a tip for Ruby.” She smiled and waved at the girl who always did her nails. “Tell her I'm sorry. Something came up and I have a friend on his way to pick me up right now.”
“Do you want some water while you wait for him?” The receptionist took the $20 tip, but not the $50 pedicure fee. “I'll give the tip to Ruby, but I don't want you paying for services you're not getting. I know you wouldn't cancel without a good reason.”
“Thank you.” Grace put the money back in her wallet and arranged it in her purse. “And I'd love a water. I'm parched.”
“Lemon or lime this week?”
“Lime, please.” She watched the woman walk back to the drink stand and turned when she heard the bells at the door chime again, hoping to see Tom.
Instead she locked eyes with a man whose face was covered by a mask. They both seemed stunned for a moment and then everything snapped into motion.
Grace dove, screaming for everyone to get down. A heartbeat of normality where the air was filled by the chimes of the CD playing and the quiet murmur of conversations filled the space before the screams started.
The man pulled a gun from his jacket and trained it on Grace, but she'd already reached into her boot and pulled out the pistol she kept holstered there.
Without hesitation, she fired three rounds into his torso, each one landing near his sternum. His hand clenched reflexively on the gun and then it fell from his hand with a clatter that seemed too loud in the silence that filled the air when her gun fired.
“Get people out the back,” Grace snapped at the receptionist who had already risen to her feet. “I'm a police officer and I am telling you to evacuate these people in case he isn't alone.” There was a chance someone else would be waiting out back, but she hoped the risk was worth clearing the salon.
People filed out the back door of the salon and Grace called in the incident, keeping her gun drawn and ready to fire in case someone came through the door. No one else did.
Before the police arrived, the bells clanged again and Grace felt her tense muscles vibrate as she assessed the threat. But it was Tom and another man with him, both wearing the same type of jacket and for the first time since the dead man had entered the salon, she drew an easy breath.
“Are you okay?” Tom crossed to her and tried to take her in his arms, but she moved back.
“I can't draw my gun if you're holding me,” she said. “But I'm so glad you're here. I killed him.”
“I know, baby. I'm sorry.”
“I'm not. But...”
“I know.”
“Do you know who he is?” She turned from Tom when the other man spoke and bristled when she saw that he'd pulled the gunman's mask away, revealing his face.
“You're interfering with the crime scene by touching him,” she said. “Step back.” But neither man listened. Tom moved closer and examined him. He was a middle aged white man with a receding hairline and acne around his jaw and his eyes were closed because she'd killed him and he'd tried to kill her and it was hard to catch her breath for a moment.
“You should both go before the police get here.” She didn't know if it was her paranoia or the truth, but she thought she could hear sirens in the distance.
“I'm not leaving you.” Tom put his hand on her arm, but the other man looked at her and then slowly shook his head.
“No,” said the man. “She's right. There's no reason to get questioned about this and you don't need to be associated with her on record. We'll be close and we'll pick you up when they leave. You aren't alone.” His words were warm and she almost believed him.
“I won't let you out of my sight,” Tom promised, and then he and the other man were through the door and it was just her and the body. When the police arrived moments later, she took a deep breath and surrendered her weapon.
CHAPTER 20
“This is taking so fucking long.”
“She killed a man. They're going to have to question her, but she’s not being waterboarded.”
“The cops are pig shit dirty. How do I know what they're doing to her in there?”
“You don't,” Jack said, “but you need to get your shit together and remember that if you're in the station over this, then Butch will know that you know her. Which means that us taking her off his radar is that much harder.”
Jack's words were simple truth and Tom knew it, but every fiber of his body felt strained with the effort it took to keep from walking into the precinct and walking out again with Grace over his shoulder. He didn't trust the goddamn cops and he never would. Their incompetence and corruption turned the murder investigation for his father and Storm Runners brothers into a sideshow that he'd never forgive. Anger was a bubbling cauldron and the weight of his leather jacket felt oppressive even with the cool fall air around him while he rested, straddling his bike and waiting for Grace to come out of the station so he could take her home.
To his home.
She’d just have to accept that as the way it was for now.
“What do you want to do?”
“About what?” He looked at Jack, who was scanning the street in front of the station. Neither of them could be sure Butch wouldn’t send someone to shoot a quick bullet from a passing car when Grace exited to finish the job.
“The girl. How long can she really stay at the clubhouse or Thunder?”
“Until we find Butch.”
“She’s a cop, Thomas. I don’t know if this is the right choice for the club.” For Jack, the safety of the club always came first, even before the welfare of others. Tom understood and usually agreed, but right now it was pushing his already frayed temper to its edges.
“You brought Anna to the property when she was in danger and it helped protect her.”
“It would have if she hadn’t run off with the slightest provocation,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “I get why she did it, but damn it made it hard to protect her.” He sighed, then smiled. He smiled a lot more these days and it disconcerted Tom. “But the point is, she wasn’t a cop. She was just a woman who posed no threat to us.”
“Grace isn’t a threat.”
“I’m not convinced of that, and neither is Ace.”
“You’re saying I can’t bring her over?”
Jack gave him a long, searching look. “Man, I’m not telling you what to do. If you bring her out though, keep an eye on her. Rest assured I’ll have one on her too.”
“Fair enough.” Though part of him railed against the warnings, Tom understood. He’d never gotten special treatment for being the founder’s son and didn’t expect anything that wouldn’
t be offered to another member. But the club had always been a family—and maybe now Grace felt like a member of his family. Like someone he needed to protect.
He frowned.
His mother died and was barely cold in the ground before Victoria ran off. Four years after that, his father was dead. Being someone he…cared about…didn’t bode well for Grace.
“If she’s at the clubhouse, I can keep a closer eye on the information she gets about the trafficking operation,” Tom said at length. “We want to shut it down, right?”
“I wouldn’t mind.” Jack flexed his fingers over the handlebars. “Been a lot of late nights tracking down leads that pan out to nothing. If we find Butch, maybe we can figure out where the women are being sent to. Send out the information to someone who isn’t corrupt as fuck after we’ve taken down the people responsible for Max and the others.”
“How deep does the corruption in the department go?”
“Deep enough that I’m not willing to leave you here alone to wait for your woman.” The light was fading and she still wasn’t out of the police station. “All the people we knew on the force are clean, but more than one has been killed this year.”
“What?” Tom’s mouth opened, then closed. “Who died?” Something else he missed while he withdrew from his life. The old regret started to cast a shade over him, so he straightened his spine and pushed it back. Other things mattered more now.
I can’t change the past.
“Probst and Winger. Probst was shot in a drive-by and Winger fell down the stairs of his house. I don’t think either was random. The truth is, Butch was in the club for 40 years before he took a hard left, and he has more contacts than we do, so he could have had something to do with their deaths, too.”
“Sometimes it feels like we’re picking up the pieces instead of continuing what Dad started.”
“We are. Max may have wanted these changes, but he didn’t initiate them. He left that to Ace. Even now with the new members, people are fighting against the reforms.”
“Because we’re a motorcycle club. Not a fucking investment company.”
STRIKE: Storm Runners Motorcycle Club 2 (SRMC) Page 15