Shake Down

by Chandler, Jade

  He arched a brow. “Are you my mommy now?”

  I flipped him off. “Rebel talk to you about Vegas?”

  With a nod, he frowned at me. “I was heading out next week, now that’s cancelled because you can’t keep your nose out of shit.”

  “I might need you backing me in the city.” I didn’t know what the mob would throw her way, but the two of us could handle anything.

  “You got it.” He smiled. “So you’re going to be her white knight.”

  “She won’t see it that way. I’ll be more pest than hero, at least to her.”

  “So why go?”

  I shook my head. “Can’t not go.”

  The gavel pounded and Jericho gazed out over the crowd. The man was scary wild, an outlaw I could respect and follow.

  The ceremony was quick with each of the six giving their oath and earning a new name along with the member cut. They were brothers now and I was damn proud that two of our prospects were part of the first six chosen. The others would either earn their cuts next time or be shown the door. After the ceremony, I stopped to talk to each for a minute before I booked it to Oklahoma City.

  Once I hit the city, I stopped at the motel where I stayed more nights than my house. I should look into finding a place up here. Rebel said the company would pay for it, but apartment hunting sucked and limited my mobility. I liked being able to stay wherever the mood struck or the case demanded.

  I called Danvers to strategize how to approach Charlie, and he invited me for dinner. Not one to pass up the chance for his wife’s cooking, I booked it to my bike. Captain Leo Danvers had made good on the American dream, and no one deserved it more than him. The best CO I ever had, Danvers understood people and how to treat them. Even after my less than agreeable separation with Uncle Sam and becoming a biker, Danvers didn’t shy away. That kind of integrity was rare in my world. I’d gladly have him at my six anytime. If only Charlie trusted me, my mission would be easier.

  Pulling up in front of Danvers’s suburban paradise complete with white picket fence in back, I parked my bike in the driveway. He loved his life but I didn’t understand it, too much drudgery for me. Besides I’d failed every time I tried to do the upstanding man thing—first my sister, Laney, then the rest of my family and finally Uncle Sam. No, I knew better now. I wasn’t made for normal.

  Danvers was my exact opposite in that way. He did upstanding without the smugness my grandfather always had. I walked up the stone sidewalk through a manicured lawn and knocked on his bright blue front door. His wife opened the door with a smile on her face and little Leo on her hip. The boy wasn’t one yet, but he was substantial.

  “That boy is going to be bigger than you by next year.” I chucked the kid’s chin.

  “I know, I’m the one lugging this beast around.” She grinned wide. “Leo’s in back on the deck, head on back. But be prepared, Tilly knows you’re coming and she put on her princess dress for you.”

  I chuckled. “She’s already stolen my heart.” Their three-year-old daughter had a silly crush on me.

  Last year she’d declared her intentions. Barely able to string words together, Tilly had run up to me, arms lifted to be picked up. I’d scooped her up and kissed her forehead. She’d stared at me with eyes identical to her father’s and said, “I marry you, JoJo.”

  And she hadn’t outgrown it yet.

  I walked past them through their homey living room with toys lining one wall and the pristine kitchen. Something smelled delicious and cheesy.

  “Dinner is in an hour. Ribs, you guys are cooking those, mac and cheese, and broccoli,” she called behind me.

  “Thanks, sounds great.” I slid open the deck and stepped back into the muggy summer evening.

  Danvers sat by his pride and joy—a huge-ass charcoal grill, smoker and magic machine. At least that’s how he’d described the thing. It looked like a lot of work to me. I preferred my gas grill—it was how I cooked any meat I made. But then I survived on restaurants for most of my meals with an occasional steak or burger at home.

  “Hey, JoJo, you see Tilly yet?” The bastard grinned at me.

  “Not yet, but I hear she’s gunning for me.” I sat beside him and grabbed a beer from the cooler beside me.

  “Yup.” His grin fell away. “You think the mob’s going to take out my detectives?”

  “They’ve done it before, but I plan to make that a losing bet. No one’s hurting Charlie.”

  “So it’s like that.” Danvers tilted his head in question. “What are your intentions for my detective?”

  “None of your damn business,” I growled.

  “Bullshit. You going to leave collateral damage in your wake?”

  “I’m going to keep her safe, that’s all you need to worry about,” I shot back. My skin itched and I didn’t want to put to words what I felt for that blonde. I wouldn’t do it.

  “She’s had enough grief, she doesn’t need you fucking with her emotions and riding off.” Danvers got in my grill. Inches apart, we stared each other down.

  “JoJo.” The high-pitched shriek came seconds before Tilly barreled into my legs.

  “Princess, you look beautiful.” I kissed her forehead while her father ran a hand over his head and stepped back from me.

  She scrunched up her face. “Were you and Daddy fighting?” She pointed her tiny index finger. “If so, you have to hug and make up. Mommy says so.”

  “Munchkin, you can’t boss adults,” Danvers cut in, saving me from her perceptive question.

  She sighed more like an adult than a toddler. Tilly was one of those firstborns who would thrive on bossing others around because she was wise and knew it, just like my oldest brother. Duty should have been his middle name.

  “So, JoJo, would you like to see my new dolly?” A crafty look passed across her face.

  “After dinner, then we can have a tea party too.” I knew that’s where this ploy was going.

  “Yay, you are my favorite.” She threw her small arms around my shoulders and pressed into me—an awesome hug.

  “Go get ready, now. JoJo and I have to talk,” Danvers instructed his daughter.

  I set her back to the wooden deck.

  “No more fighting.” She waggled her first finger at us and scampered away before her father corrected her again.

  “Already wants the last word.” I shook my head. “You have your hands full.”

  “I know it.” He stared after his daughter, love tattooed on his face. Danvers was one lucky bastard. He refocused on me. “Be careful with her.”

  “Who are you talking about?” I asked even though I knew he meant Charlie.

  He didn’t dignify my feint with a response. Instead he met my gaze. “Just don’t break her.”

  “What if she breaks me?”

  Danvers snorted. “I put extra patrols on both her and Brie. I also alerted Tom, so he’s staying with Brie. How are you going to do this thing with Charlie? She won’t want your protection.”

  I rubbed my neck. “I was hoping you’d help with that.”

  “Leave me out of this train wreck. I’m not sure I even approve of your plan.” He sighed.

  “If I tell her I’m going to protect her, she’ll fight me. Make this harder.” She was a stubborn woman.

  “Sounds right.” He grinned.

  “Then I’ll have to be sneaky.” It’d be less comfortable but I could do it.

  That was the end of the discussion. We drank beer in silence until the ribs were done. After a lively dinner where Tilly told us stories of preschool, I attended her tea party and escaped back into the night. Just a couple hours of family had my thoughts circling to dark places. I remembered Laney at three. I’d been seven and she’d looked up to me like Tilly did, but I’d failed her.

  I wouldn’t fail again.

  Chapter Eleven


  Charlie

  I was done with being protected. The captain had gone crazy protective with Brie and me—we were on desk duty and when at home a patrol car sat outside my house. Two weeks of this and I was ready to kill someone. Mickey was going down and nothing could stop that. I wasn’t in some cop thriller, and Danvers needed to get over himself, but it was hard to tell your boss to back the hell off. That would be insubordination, but I might just do it if he sidelined me much longer.

  “This sucks,” I grumbled. I grabbed another unsolved file for audit.

  Brie groaned. “Totally. We take down the perps everyone hunted and now we have the worst job ever. It’s not supposed to work that way.” She blew out a breath and her fringed bangs floated away from her forehead. “And Tom is my shadow. I can’t breathe.”

  “I should go talk to the captain. This can’t continue until the trial, that could be months from now.” I stood up.

  Brie stood and grabbed my arm. “Let’s go get a coffee.” She pulled me toward the door. “Tom said they’re thinking of putting us in protective custody...you know, with the Marshal service.”

  “Over my dead body.” I fumed. “We’re trained police officers.”

  “Didn’t stop them from killing two cops and a prosecutor in Nevada, and no one could prove Franco or Mickey were involved.” Brie shuddered.

  Maybe this was more serious than I thought. But if it was, wouldn’t they have acted by now? The waiting might kill me faster than any mob guys. We pushed through the door of the law enforcement center into the hot June day. Two blocks to my favorite local coffee shop. The Roasted Bean had better coffee than any of the chains. A caramel mocha called my name today. I’d have to run extra tonight but it’d be worth it. If I was imprisoned at my desk then I needed the boost of my favorited drink.

  “You and Tom have plans for the weekend?”

  “We’re headed to the lake again. You could join.” Brie gave me a hopeful look.

  “No, thanks.” I wanted no part of the lake parties. My thoughts returned to Joe.

  But Joe hadn’t called and I hadn’t seen him again. That was a good thing. Right. Just because my subconscious insisted on dreaming of him every night didn’t mean anything, except I woke up hot and bothered entirely too often.

  A soft thud brought my head around. Brie pulled me down and behind a street-side trash can.

  “What was—” My hand rested on my gun butt. Another thunk. A silenced bullet?

  I pulled my gun and peeked around our meager cover. I didn’t see a shooter. “Let’s move to that car, better cover.” I ran crouched low.

  Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

  Then the boom of a regular round split the air. I turned to check on Brie, but she looked as confused as I felt. She wasn’t the second shooter. I motioned for her to join me. “Move it.”

  She ran toward me. I surveyed the street. Sun glinted off of steel across the street, and a car roared to life out of my line of sight. The nerves on the back of my neck warned that what came next would be bad. “Flat to the ground.” I jerked Brie’s arm down.

  Tires squealed and a hail of bullets hit the car, some flew over and around the car to smack into the plate glass window behind us. Shattered glass and the wail of sirens from the building’s alarm pounded in my ears. I scurried to the edge of the car and aimed at the back of the retreating black SUV. I pulled the trigger and shot again and again. Rounds joined mine. I looked over—Joe Marcone stood on the other side of the street, emptying his gun into the fleeing vehicle.

  What the hell? I refocused on the car, only to see the license plate had been removed. Dammit. A shiver ran through me. Where was Brie? Why wasn’t she here beside me?

  I turned to see a pool of red spreading across the sidewalk. In the distance I heard the welcome sound of police sirens. “Brie’s shot, call an ambulance.” I threw the words back at Joe as I ran for my partner.

  Joe reached Brie as I did, phone to his ear. “What’s her condition?” He spoke into his phone: “Officer down GSW at Main and Hudson.”

  I turned Brie over, praying she was alive. A bullet had entered her shoulder. I laid her on her back, stripped off my blazer and pressed it into her wound, hoping to slow the bleeding.

  Behind me Joe spoke into his phone but I didn’t catch what he said. I focused on Brie. “You will survive this so I can kick your ass.” A tear escaped and raced down my cheek. Dammit, I would not cry.

  Officers surrounded me, giving me a pressure bandage to press into the wound. EMTs arrived next, pushing me aside to rush Brie into the ambulance. I looked around at all the officers. This was a crime scene. I was the key witness but I didn’t care. Regulations could go to hell. I was going after my partner. I turned to Joe, who was talking to one of our veteran uniforms.

  “Give me a ride to the hospital. I need to be with Brie and I have to call Tom.”

  Joe raked a glance down me then met my gaze. “Across the street, black truck.” We moved in unison, hurrying toward it.

  “Detective, you can’t leave,” the officer called after me.

  Brie needed me and that was what mattered today. Rules be damned.

  Chapter Twelve

  JoJo

  I hustled after Charlie. Shock had turned her a pasty color. I caught up and steered her to my SUV. “With me.” I opened the passenger door and she climbed inside. “What hospital?”

  “OU Med.” She blinked once, and her glazed-over stare worried me.

  “Charlie, you need to pull your shit together.” I barked out the command, like I did with rookies on the battlefield. I knew too much about shock.

  She whipped her head my direction, her eyes alight with her normal fire. Pissed off at me, like usual. “How? Why were you here?”

  “I’ve been shadowing you and Brie,” I added Brie as an afterthought. I’d failed to protect Brie because I’d been so focused on Charlie. The idea of her lying in a pool of blood made my own run cold. I suppressed the shudder. “You need on-the-ground protection. Patrol cars just do cleanup.”

  “Cleanup...” She echoed my words. “The blood...oh God, Brie.” A sob escaped before she bit her cheek, stopping the tears. “She has to be okay.”

  “Right shoulder wound, maybe hit a blood vessel, but shouldn’t be too bad. She’ll need surgery.”

  “You’re a gunshot expert?” Her anger simmered, looking for an escape.

  “I’ve seen too many wounds. It happens when you’re in the Marines.” I would never get some of those memories out of my head. Seeing my friends with dead eyes, gunshot to the heart. Delta and I had never found the bastards who’d shot them. My accusations had been as bad as the fists I’d thrown. Another soldier had executed my friends, but Uncle Sam didn’t like that idea, and I had no proof, so I’d been sent packing, barely escaping a bad conduct discharge. Not that I gave a damn.

  “I forgot you were a soldier.”

  I wish I could forget, but that wasn’t happening, ever. Turing into OU Med Center, I parked by the ER entrance. “She’ll be fine.”

  Charlie hesitated, biting her lower lip. “Yeah?”

  “Trust me. Now, move your ass.” Right now she needed the anger to spur her on, make the last of her shock melt away. She looked like hell. Blood soaked the knees of her khakis, shallow cuts peppered her arms, and her color still hadn’t returned. She needed to be examined and to change into new clothes. I sent a quick text to Danvers so he could arrange for a change of clothes before he came to the hospital.

  Charlie rushed to the admitting desk. “What’s Brie Devough’s status?”

  The nurse pursed her lips, ready to deliver a set-down.

  “I’m with OKCPD, she’s my partner.” Red splotched her cheeks now.

  “Ms. Devough is in surgery, she was stable when they took her in. That’s all I know.”

  “Now, add Charlie to
your patient list.” I stepped forward. “She was in the same attack.”

  The nurse assessed Charlie’s injuries. “Come with me, I’ll get you right back—”

  “No, I don’t—” Charlie protested.

  “Stop. You have cuts all over you, go get checked out. We’ll have hours before we know anything about Brie.”

  She deflated and nodded to the nurse before following her through a door that only opened when the nurse swiped a card over a sensor. Good. It wouldn’t be easy if Franco’s guys came here to finish the job. I surveyed the room and selected a chair in a corner with a good sightline to the door and hallway off the ER. I didn’t want any more surprises.

  Two weeks of shadowing Charlie had been hell, making me want her more every goddam day. I’d cursed her and myself for our stubbornness. She wanted nothing to do with a biker and I refused to beg. And when the bullets flew, my world froze. I understood what I’d almost lost. I’d lost it before when Laney died.

  Laney had been thirteen when she died. A freaking online predator convinced her to run away, pretending to be a girl her age. The pervert had kept my precious sister alive three days, doing terrible things to her before he killed her. I’d been on the tarmac heading home on emergency leave when I’d got the call from my father—the last time I spoke to him. He said two words before I hung up. I still heard those words in my nightmares. “She’s dead.” I cancelled my leave and went back to work—the best thing in my family had been broken and killed. She was gone—to heaven if God existed—and I had no need to go home to see the family who’d let her be taken. That had been the beginning of the end of my military career. The anger that still poisoned me had eaten me up and made me a fucking puppet for too long.

  I shut the door on my dark memories. I didn’t need my past screwing with my head. My emotions were doing a good job of that already. My feelings ran deep for a woman I’d kissed once, one who wanted nothing to do with me. Charlie was light and goodness with a streak of badass that drove me crazy. I wanted her in my bed, sure, but more than that I wanted to get under her armor and discover what lay beneath. A dangerous yearning, yet I couldn’t lock it away, so I’d make it happen.