STRIKE: Storm Runners Motorcycle Club 2 (SRMC)

by Devane, Lauren

  “You need to get out of here,” she said, standing up. “Call the others and have them leave to. I’ll call this in.”

  “But Grace, what will you do?”

  “I’ll take care of this.” A wild half-sob escaped her and Tom moved forward, wanting to take her in his arms. But he was stained with blood and she was shaking.

  Everything in her life had led to this moment—and she was going to give it all away for him. For the man who’d lied to her over and over.

  “Grace, please.”

  “Just go.” She shook her head and took a deep breath. Her eyes shimmered with tears. “I always wanted to help people.” Her voice broke on the words. “I never thought I’d do something like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Cover up a crime to protect a man who killed an unarmed person. Just go, Tom.”

  “I love you.”

  Her golden eyes raised to his and she shook her head. “Just go.”

  Nodding, he walked out of the room, down the stairs and to the front door. Once he was outside, he headed down the street to his bike, calling off the reinforcements and telling everyone to meet back at the club.

  It was over. His father was avenged.

  Whatever it took, right?

  That was the promise he’d made himself the night they found out what Butch had done. Now Butch was dead and he’d pulled the trigger. Max could rest in peace.

  But Tom still felt empty.

  CHAPTER 28

  “Are you sure she’s not going to turn you in?” Jack met Tom’s eyes and seemed to accept the short nod as answer.

  “What do we do now?” Everyone looked at Ace for an answer, but Ace just shrugged.

  “Jack and I have been working on some avenues to follow up on, but if Butch is dead and we don’t have answers about who created and funded the trafficking routes, I think we should lay low for a few months. Focus on the businesses. See what pops up to fill the void Butch left.”

  “Any suspects?”

  “I’d say Clutch,” Crash broke in, “but he’s obviously not a concern anymore.” His body was still cooling in the basement. “Other than that, most of the old guard has been taken out in the past year.”

  “We’ll see what comes,” Ace said. “For tonight, let’s all stick close to the clubhouse. And Tom?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re damn lucky that girl likes you. We all are.”

  “I know,” Tom said. The meeting ended and he went to his room, which still smelled faintly of magnolia. Taking off his jacket, he showered and washed off the last of Butch’s dried blood, watching the tinted water slide down the drain. Once he was dry and his clothes were in a bag to remind him to clean them out of town, he got into bed and closed his eyes.

  Sleep was elusive, though. All he could think about was where Grace was and what was being done to her.

  _____

  After they performed the usual tests—checking to make sure she’d fired at Jerry and that Jerry had fired at Butch—they debriefed her.

  “You’ve had to use your weapon an awful lot lately,” said an IA detective she didn’t recognize.

  “I know.”

  “And on leave, too.” Another shook his head. “What happened to the woman you saw them drag in?”

  “She ran out. I instructed her to go to the police.”

  “No reports have been filed with information that matches your description.”

  “Detroit,” Grace said, and shrugged. “I can’t help that. I told you the truth.”

  I lied.

  “Check in with the Chief before you leave and turn in your badge and gun. With two shootings in under a week, you’re on suspension until we work through both crime scenes fully.”

  “I understand.” Grace laid her weapon and badge on the table, then walked down the hallway to Chief’s office.

  “I’m here. You wanted to see me?” Her body was so tired that it was an effort to stay upright.

  “Sit down, Grace.” She did, sinking into a chair. His brown eyes were so worn and she had trusted him so much, but now there was a calculation in his eyes she’d never noticed before. “I’ve read your statement. This man—William Jenkins—he died before you arrived in the house?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did the other man make any statements to you?”

  “No, sir. He turned with the gun and I know he would have shot me if I didn’t fire first.”

  “Okay.” He shook his head. “Now that you’re suspended, I think it’s time to stop these shifts at the Ladies Night. Once you’re cleared, you can come back clean.”

  She shook her head. “Chief, I don’t think I’m cut out for this job.” Grace wondered at all the shadows in the man and whether he had really set her up to be killed. “I tried—I wanted to be good at it—but I’m failing. I’m scared to even patrol again.”

  “It’s been an intense week. Why don’t you take a couple months and consider it?”

  She nodded, then shook his hand. But Grace already knew she was done. There was no going back.

  When she walked out of the station, it was for the last time. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the night toward home, alone.

  Three Weeks Later

  Tom laughed and climbed off his bike, slapping Crash on the back. “I told you I’d make it before you.”

  “So you did.” Crash smiled at him and they both grinned when Ace and Jack pulled up to the clubhouse.

  “I got caught in that damn traffic circle,” Ace said, throwing off his helmet and rolling his eyes. “Fuck.”

  “Good day for a drive,” was all Jack said, his eyes scanning the property. “It was nice to finally get out on the road and just ride all the way up to the peninsula and back.”

  “Dad kept that property in the north for a reason,” Tom said. Since he killed Butch, his moods had lightened. Talking about Max was easier; being a part of the club felt right again. He stretched and breathed in the crisp early winter air. “We should all head up there more often. Maybe do a family day up there so people can bring their kids.”

  “Sounds good,” Ace said, walking into the clubhouse. The others followed him.

  “What are you doing tonight?” Crash asked Tom.

  “Going back into Detroit.”

  “We just came from there.”

  “I’m still trying to convince Grace to talk to me.” He’d texted her. He’d called her. He’d stopped by her house—even trying to use Mandi to see her in person.

  He always got the same answer, though.

  I’m not ready yet.

  “Is she finally going to let you into her apartment?” Jack asked, his smiling face just begging for a punch.

  “I’ll wait until she decides to,” Tom says.

  “Let’s hope she doesn’t tell you to go away for good.” Crash grabbed a drink and took a quick swallow. “Then you’ll mope around the clubhouse for six months.”

  “Probably longer,” Tom said, unphased. “She won’t, though.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She’s in love with me. She’s my woman. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “God help us,” said Ace, running a hand through his hair. “A damned cop in the family.”

  _____

  Grace looked in the mirror and straightened the neckline of the emerald green dress she wore, smoothing it over her skin.

  It was perfect with a little jacket for the job interview she’d had that afternoon—and it would work for her other plans tonight, as well.

  Slipping into flats, she picked up her cell and made the call.

  “Mandi?”

  “Hi! I’m on my way over to pick you up now.” Just hearing the sunny sound of her voice made Grace smile. “How’d the interview go?”

  “Really good—as good as the first one. The position doesn’t open up for four months, but I can start training in three.”

  “I’m so happy for you.” She could hear Mandi’s excitement thro
ugh the phone. “When are you going to tell that handsome man of yours?”

  “Soon,” Grace said. “Very soon. I just…I know if I’d called him sooner, I’d have let him fix all my problems for me.”

  “I get it, girl.” She knew Mandi did. Her time in Florida with her mother convinced her that she wanted to finish school and go into fashion design. “But you’re all settled up now, so you’re just making him wait for no reason.”

  “It’s hard to make a move. After everything…”

  “I know.” Mandi sighed. “Brian and I had a hard time talking after he ditched me for his parents, but in the end it was all worth it. Now I’m happier than ever.” Grace could hear her working the gears of Brian’s car. It sounded terrifying and she girded her loins for the drive to the restaurant. “We’re so excited to see you.”

  “I’m excited too.”

  “If you come outside now, we should be waiting when you get out front.”

  “See you in a few.”

  Grace walked into the hall and headed down toward the elevator. She’d decide that if she got the job and had a plan, she’d call Tom and they’d settle things.

  When he’d walked out of the room and she stayed behind with two dead bodies, her gaze had fixed on Butch.

  You deserve this, was all she could think. He’d been shot in cold blood—but could she really blame Tom? Butch was a cancer on the world and no matter how she’d tried to frame it, she was glad he was dead.

  Still, she hadn’t called Tom when she’d left the station. First because she didn’t want the Storm Runners to get mixed up with the Internal Affairs investigation. Second because she didn’t know what to say to him. Making the choice to cover up the crime was the end of her career, and she didn’t know what to do next.

  During the next week, Grace had spent hours of time on the phone with her family and Mandi, working through different options for the future. She smiled as she hit the lobby button the elevator, remembering how right it felt when she spotted the advertisement for someone to work with a nonprofit that helped abused women.

  She could use the skills she’d learned in college, as well as her experience as a cop, to help the organization do everything it could. They ran shelters, helped women find jobs and homes, and assisted those who had been enslaved with reintegrating into society. Before her interview, she’d spent a lot of time chatting with the coordinator and she knew it was a good fit.

  There were other ways to help people.

  It was too early for the threat of snow, but when she opened the doors to the street, her skirt swirled around her legs. Sliding her hands over the silky fabric, she didn’t look up until she collided with a hard chest.

  “Tom.” He was there, warm brown eyes shining as he grinned at her. The stress lines that had always plagued his face were gone and his expression was open. His hands tensed on her arms to steady her.

  “I missed you,” he said.

  “I…I want to talk to you, but I’m late for dinner with Mandi and Brian.”

  “Brian?”

  “The weather man. They made up and we’re going up to Antonio’s.”

  “You actually have plans with me,” he said. “Mandi said you were ready to talk—and I couldn’t wait another day.”

  “Mandi isn’t coming?”

  “Not unless you’ve changed your mind about talking to me,” he said, and his big warm body moved closer to hers. Grace wasn’t upset about the change of plans. Instead she was just so relieved to see him.

  “I’m sorry.” They both said at the same time, then laughed.

  “I hate what you had to do for me,” he said.

  “I made you think I saw your actions as wrong,” Grace said, reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together. “Maybe for a second I did. That police script wrote itself over the scene and all I could see was that moment. But Tom, you weren’t wrong.” His hands tightened on hers. “In your shoes, I’d have done the same and I’m so grateful that I don’t have to fight to get him a fair trial instead of a sham.”

  “I left you there.”

  “It was the only way that you wouldn’t get dragged into it. All the Storm Runners. They’re your family and I’m glad I was able to protect you—and them.”

  “God, I love you.” He kissed her, soft and slow while her arms wrapped around him under his jacket. When he pulled back, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I miss you so much, baby. You can have as much time as you need, but I don’t want to be apart from you anymore.”

  “I don’t want any more time,” she said. “I want to be with you.”

  His hand came up to her cheek and angled her face up to look him right in the eyes. “You should know that everyone at the club misses you too. Carly gave me strict orders to bring you back home.”

  “I used to think they’d all hate me for being a cop.”

  “No one cares anymore. Between you and me, I think Ace is amused by the idea of having a cop around.”

  “I hope he won’t be too disappointed without a cop around.”

  “You don’t want to come to the clubhouse again?”

  “I’m not a cop anymore,” she said. “I turned in my resignation and today was my last interview for a new job working with women who need assistance. It’s a safe job with a positive organization right outside the city.”

  “Grace.” He pulled her closer, molding her body to his. “I didn’t want you to have to quit.” He looked at her and she saw the sincerity in his eyes. He didn’t care what she did—as long as she was his.

  She felt the same way. One of the reason’s she left the force—aside from the corruption—was because she wanted to be with Tom. Really with him. And no matter how good the Storm Runners tried to be, they were still a motorcycle club. They always would be.

  He always would be.

  “I wasn’t happy.” She wrapped her arms tighter around him, so thankful to be back in the warm shelter of his body. “For months I danced at that club so that I wouldn’t complain and stir up trouble at the station. I’m glad I did, because I saved Mandi…but I’m done with being Officer Grace. I can’t trust anyone and I’m not making the impact I want to. It’s time to try something new.”

  “I’m proud of you.” He kissed her and all the pieces fell into place. Lingering doubts disappeared and swam away into the new winter sunset. “And so in love with you,” Tom said. “Come for a ride with me.” He stepped away and reached for her hand.

  “I love you, Tom.” Grace hooked her fingers with his again, then yanked him closer to her, “but I think I want to take you for a ride first.”

  His eyes brightened as she turned and they walked together into the building.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon! If you would like to speak to me directly, email me at writinglaurendevane@gmail.com, and I’ll reply. I love to hear from readers.

  If you’re interested in getting a free copy of future books in exchange for an honest review, write to my email address and I’ll add you to my list of ARC readers.

  Human trafficking is a serious problem that affects people all around the world. To learn more about it and what you can do to help combat it, visit the US Department of State’s human trafficking page.

  BOLT

  Chapter One

  No white knight was on his way to save her and fix her problems. She’d have to do it herself.

  Anna picked up the egg cartons, bacon packages and cheese wrappers cluttering the prep area around the grill. Jim, the hashbrown-slinging cook at the Easy Bake, didn’t believe in clearing his own space, gathering his own ingredients or talking about news with women, but he made a damn good omelet. When she’d come to work late that night with bourbon on her breath, he’d sighed and made her one stuffed with mushrooms, sausage and cheddar to help her get back on her feet for work.

  The trash bag was still only almost full, so she walked into the seating area and over to the bathrooms,
emptying the small cans into the larger bag. Back in the dining room, she surveyed the people who’d come to eat just before closing at three—a couple of college kids and an old man with a newspaper. Typical crowd.

  Pushing through the swinging portal and back into the kitchen, she dropped the trash by the large steel door that would open to the alleyway and took a deep breath, her head still spinning from the bourbon she’d consumed before leaving her apartment that night. She should have called in, but Marta was still out with her new baby and Steve, the owner, didn’t have anyone else. He’d had to come in himself to help out with the dinner crowd, which he almost never did. He hated working nights.

  Now he sat by the grill, chatting with Jim about a baseball game he was going to in New York the next week. Mel pushed through the swinging doors with a tray of dishes. “It’s just the last guy now,” she said. “Those kids went back to campus.”

  “I hope they brought a car.” Jim was making himself scrambled eggs, but turned from the griddle to eye Mel. “Did they?” Detroit’s streets were nowhere for young people to be alone at night.

  “Yeah,” said Mel, putting an arm around Anna’s shoulders. “I watched them get into the car and leave.”

  “Fuck this city,” Anna said and Mel squeezed her closer. She knew what tonight was.

  “The night’s almost over. You have tomorrow off. Maybe go out to Anne Arbor and get a pedicure?”

  “Maybe,” Anna said, rubbing the tense skin at her temples with her fingertips. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s going to be okay.” Mel smelled like menthol and lavender, which made Anna want a cigarette more than she had since she got bronchitis twice in one winter four years ago when she was 16 and quit smoking for good. “When I get back from Hawaii the week after next, why don’t you come over to my boyfriend’s place for dinner?”