by A. J. Macey
“No, just,” he paused, his jaw tightening, “don’t hurt her, all right?” My brows went up at his resigned tone.
“Do you not think she cares about you, too?” I waved at the photos.
“Does it matter? She made it clear the other day that if she wanted to go for me, she would, like she had with you and Chase. Besides, she’s had six years.” He stared back at the photos, his hands clenching tightly into fists. “Let’s just fucking get to work. I can’t think about this anymore.”
“Thank god, I thought I was going to have to call Oprah or Dr. Phil or some shit with your guys’ sappy bullshit,” Stone snapped behind us, his arms crossed as he glared at us. “Seriously, I didn’t ever think I’d see the two of you going all soft over a woman, let alone the same woman. How about we focus on the shit that actually matters?” I rolled my eyes and took a seat at the island bar top.
“So,” I started looking between my two officers, “we need to keep an eye on our shipments and dealers, figure out who the snitch is, prepare our counterattack on the Alloy Kings, deal with Corden, and get those files. All while hoping nothing goes awry with Kiera and Chase’s heist getting Kevin’s Old Lady back.”
“Why would we need to get those files?” Stone narrowed his eyes, his lips curled in a snarl as he spoke. It was clear he didn’t want to help Kiera with her personal vendetta. I held back my urge to roll my eyes at his stubbornness.
“Because one of our own fucked up,” I explained, my sharp tone not wanting to argue this point.
“Why do we have to deal with Corden? If we take down the Alloy Kings, he should go scurrying back to take the next job.” Stone leaned forward, his hands flattening against the shiny countertop. Garrett’s fisted hands tightened the longer our enforcer talked.
“Because he’s a threat. Not just to Kiera, but to us as well,” Garrett bit out. The gravel in his voice was harsher than normal in his rage. “If he’s willing to work with the Alloy Kings to take us on, he’ll use whatever he learns from them and move on to another group willing to try and destroy us. He knows me, and now that he knows I’m an Ace he won’t quit until he has Kiera, and he will gladly go through the club to get her.”
“I knew she was a fucking threat,” Stone growled, setting Garrett off. My VP launched off the stool squaring up with Stone who didn’t back down from glaring.
“Enough!” I barked out, my single command echoing off the hard surfaces of Kiera’s lavish house. “She’s not a threat stop making her the enemy,” I reasoned, focusing my attention on Stone. “Alloy Kings are our enemy right now, and Corden is with them meaning he’s our enemy as well.” Turning to Garrett I continued to chastise them. “You can’t be jumping at everyone’s throats when it comes to Kiera. She’s a grown woman, and she doesn’t need you protecting her honor.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, but in those green depths I saw the tiny spark of guilt. I continued to stare at him until he deflated. Grumbling incoherently, he sank onto his stool without further argument.
“Now.” I rubbed my beard with my right hand, my brain wracking with thoughts and plans. “Any ideas?” We spent the next couple of hours going back and forth, discussing our options and possible next steps, and left before Chase and Kiera returned home.
April 29th
Monday Afternoon
Kiera
Stupid lumpy seat. My back was cramping as I shifted for the fifth time in as many minutes trying to relieve some of the tension. Staring at the large sandstone-colored building in front of me, I felt my lips curl into a scowl. The Solace Resort was almost 30 floors high, and the way the windows were placed made it look like vertical striations in the stone. My skin felt itchy being so close to one of Frankie’s pride and joys, the other being the Solace Casino which was a similar building on the other side of the resort connected through a fancy-schmancy second-floor walkway.
I knew going after Cory Harbold would bring me closer to this wretched casino and resort, and I thought I was ready, but damn all I wanted to do was set the place on fire. Don’t worry, I won’t, there’re innocent people and other shit inside there, like money I could steal. Checking my clock, I groaned when I realized his meeting with one of Frankie’s underlings, Brian Chan, was running long. Abby is so not going to be happy, I grumbled internally.
Finally, ten minutes later, Harbold waddled out of the door and to his cock-eye parked Lamborghini. Staying at least four cars behind him, I followed in my beat-up sedan pulling into the coffee shop and parking at the back of the asphalt lot. After I ordered a straight black coffee, I held my head high as I made my way over to a glaring Abby.
“You’re late. Again.” She cocked a sassy brow at me. “Jesus, you’re going to be late to your own funeral at this rate.” I chuckled and sat at the table with her.
“Not my fault this time!” I huffed, my focus darting over to Harbold Law Office. “Someone’s meeting ran long. I was actually on time!”
“Well, that’s a damn miracle. Should the angels descend from heaven now to sing praise because you astoundedly materialized at the proper time?” Her voice was mocking as she raised a hand into the air like she was at church. “Praise Jesus, Kiera, for once in her goddamned life showed up on time. Hallelujah, can I get an Amen?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to say the Lord’s name in vain, or some shit like that,” I wheezed out in between my laughing because Abby, in her ripped up jeans and ratty band t-shirt, pretending to be a good church goer, was hilarious.
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” she laughed back at me, taking a drink of her coffee. Realizing I had to try and act normal as well, I powered through a drink of my own.
“Seriously, bitch. Try this.” Abby waved her coffee in my face, the black marker on the side of the cup taunting me. I scrunched up my face, but obliged her anyway knowing she wouldn’t stop until I tried it. I mindlessly adjusted the itchy material of my turtleneck, sweating up a damn storm in the long sleeves and jeans in the desert sun. Cautiously, I took a sip of her drink which she had told me was caramel macchiato, whatever the hell that was, with extra caramel.
“Eh”—I smacked my lips together after swallowing the sugar—“it’s literally just liquid sugar; hurts my teeth. Besides, Chase would get on my ass about having too many sweets you know how he is about food.” She rolled her eyes and took back her drink.
“Don’t understand how you don’t like it, but whatever. Also, don’t blame Chase for his obsession with cooking since you’re the one who got him started on it.” She raised a challenging brow at me. I pinched my lips together and squinted at her.
“Why do you do that? I was perfectly content to blame him,” I teased, unable to hold back my laugh. “He was looking forward to his retirement and wanted to learn something new, all I did was suggest it. He took that plunge all on his own.” I took another sip of my black coffee, this time able to keep my face straight. I checked the time, four in the afternoon. Right as the clock hit the top of the hour Cory Harbold exited his office and waddled to his expensive sports car.
Kittycat: On the move.
Dipshit: Got him, Kittycat.
I tucked my phone away and downed the rest of my coffee. Abby still had most of hers left, so she carried the cup with her to the lot. We said goodbye and she headed out in her truck, Rocky, while I walked the rest of the way to my shitty piece of junk. The revving of two motorcycles caught my attention, setting my internal alarm bells off. I continued walking toward the car in an attempt to act normal since I was in disguise as the two Harleys pulled up next to my beater, both men wearing Alloy Kings MC cuts. Fucking 1%ers, I growled keeping my face cautious as I neared them.
“Miss Wright?” The VP of Alloy Kings asked, the alias I was using for this job rolling off his tongue easily. I hesitantly nodded at Ron ‘Savage’ slowly inching closer to my car. Act like how a normal person would if confronted with criminals, I commanded myself, so much easier said than done.
“Y-yes,” I stuttered, looking at the other patch member and recognizing Vance ‘Ironsides’ McCall. “Can I help you?”
“Are you aware your friend is the wife of a very dangerous criminal?” Ron’s voice was deceivingly concerned as if he actually gave a shit about my well-being. I barely held back the urge to roll my eyes, the Aces dealt in drugs and nothing else where as the Alloy Kings dealt in drugs, weapons, sex trafficking, and dirty work for other criminal organizations. I widened my eyes and pressed my hand against my chest.
“What do you mean?” If I played along long enough, Ronnie boy here might give me something useful.
“Her husband is a part of a motorcycle gang named The Aces.” He awkwardly patted my shoulder in some strange movement of comfort. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but they deal in a lot of nasty business like drugs.”
“Oh, my goodness,” I breathed, “what should I do?”
“I suggest staying far away from them. They are dangerous, and sooner or later, they’ll get what’s coming to them.” I bit back a retort and kept my face filled with fear. “Have you seen anything odd or shady going on with your friend or her husband?” There it is, I thought, his ulterior motive. I shook my head vehemently.
“No, I uh.” I took a shaky breath. Damn, I deserve an Oscar for this performance. “I really only meet up with her for coffee. What kind of stuff should I look out for?”
“Any odd or suspicious behavior, like leaving at strange hours or being gone for a few days. Spending a lot of time at this address.” His sausage fingers held out a piece of paper with the address to the compound on it for me to take. “Have you been there before?”
“No, I don’t typically travel to south Reno. My job’s over in Sparks,” I responded giving my cover of a music teacher in case they wanted to look into the paper trail, which would lead them to a small space I had leased in my alias where I hired a few music tutors to hold practices throughout the week. The realism of the lie is in the details, people. Go on, write that down, I don’t give these damn tips away for free, you know.
“If anyone from their gang approaches you, or if your friend and her husband want you to go to that address, call me.” He held out a business card that held the drawing of a crown, his legal name, and a number which I assumed went to a burner.
“I’ll definitely do that.” Yeah fucking right. I gave a trembling thanks and watched them leave on their bikes. I immediately got into my car and spent the couple hours mindless driving around and running menial tasks and errands in case they were watching. When I finally determined I had acted normal enough, I called Brooks.
“Hey, baby,” he greeted warmly, his smooth voice sending pleasant shivers down my back.
“Hey, prick,” I laughed out, finding the entire situation hilarious. “Apparently, you’re over there doing some shady criminal shit and I’m supposed to be watching out so I don’t get caught in the crossfire.”
“Wow, hold up. What was that?” I rolled my eyes and said it again, slower this time in case he needed a bit more time to understand. “Where did you hear this from?”
“Ron ‘Savage’ decided to stop ‘Miss Wright,’ that’d be me by the way, saying my friend, which would be Abby, and her husband were into some scary-criminal-motorcycle-gang thing and that poor, little me should call him if they tried to rope me in.”
“You mean to tell me the vice president of our rival MC approached you in your disguise and warned you away from us?” I nodded at each of his points despite the fact he couldn’t see me.
“Yes,” I answered, slouching in the very uncomfortable driver seat of this car as I propped the old lady tennis shoes I was wearing on the dash. “I’m going to lay low tonight at the house. I’ll come by tomorrow and we can figure out the rest of the plan.”
“I can’t believe the nerve of that bastard,” Brooks snarled as I heard Garrett shouting shit at me in the background. “I’m going to kill him.” I felt my brows furrow at his intense reaction. I was used to this from Garrett, hell even once in a blue moon with Chase, but for Brooks to do it? Strange.
“Brooks,” I barked between Garrett’s and his increasingly loud growling. “I can take care of myself. He didn’t know it was me as The Cat or Kiera Casterelli, he only approached cause I was having coffee with Abby. If he or his buddy wanted to try something, I would have gladly shot them both in the face.”
“Fine, fine,” he huffed, “will Chase be there tonight?” I rolled my eyes, I don’t need a babysitter.
“Not until later, he’s going to be doing some more observing for a few hours. What are you guys up to?” I asked when there was a lot of noise in the background.
“Finishing up ride details. It’s a short one this time, so we’ll be back tomorrow when you get here.” I heard the sound of bikes revving.
“All right, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hung up before heading to the house, making sure to drive around in several circles. I found myself curled in bed a few hours later, exhausted and weirdly excited to see them tomorrow, and I finally drifted off.
Chapter 8
April 30th
Tuesday Late Afternoon
Kiera
The bar’s air conditioning felt good against my flushed skin from the quickly approaching summer weather. Cheryl was tending the bar despite the only ones here being me and her. She nodded at me and started to fill a glass as I made my way across the sticky floor. Gross, doesn’t anyone fucking mop around here? Sliding into my usual stool, I grabbed the glass and took a long sip. I didn’t have to wait long until one of my men waltzed into the room, unfortunately it was the very irritable enforcer, Stone.
“Why do I find myself seeing you around here more and more? You have a very nice house you could be at instead of in my space,” he snapped, glaring down at me after having stormed to where I was seated.
“I’m glad you like my house, I’m very proud of it.” I smiled brightly at him, or at least I hope that’s how it looked, but based on his frown I didn’t think I’d managed. “I need that shit you’d said would be ready today. I’m also supposed to be meeting with the other two Musketeers.” I tilted my head, thinking. “Well, technically the Three Musketeers since you’ll be there too, but you know what I meant.” I waved my right hand animatedly at the end of my statement. Stone finally took the stool next to me and scowled at Cheryl until a drink appeared. When it did, he looked at me like he didn’t know what to do with me, so of course, I smiled nice and wide.
“You’re weird,” he muttered before taking a drink. I chuckled and sipped my own beverage.
“I’m a little weird, a little crazy. You know...” I shrugged and trailed off as I glanced over at him; his brows drew down and his head was tilted as if he was truly seeing me for the first time. His deep brown eyes were inquiring, his muscled arm resting on the bar top so he could turn toward me. Denim-clad legs rubbed against my thigh, sending shivers through me that I didn’t bother hiding which had his brow raising.
“You really don’t care that you’re not normal, do you?” he asked in disbelief.
I scoffed, shaking my head. Normal? Gross.
“No, I like being me. I don’t care if anyone else likes me, I don’t exist for their entertainment,” I answered truthfully, but deep down the ever-burning flame of fury pulsed at my words. I had been that before, but never again. “Besides, you guys aren’t exactly normal here. You realize that, right? That’s why you’re called 1%ers.”
“Touché.” I felt my heart sputter when Stone cracked the tiniest smile. It transformed him from the surly bodyguard to a handsome man, one who didn’t seem to have a chip on his shoulder or think everyone was out to get him.
I studied him as he took another drink, his ever observant eyes scanning the room and only briefly glancing at the club members who flitted in and out of the space. His light grey shirt was tight against his broad shoulders and barrelled chest which tapered to a trim waist. Stone was the bulkiest in the muscle department between t
he four guys who had caught my attention. Black jeans covering his thick legs were dusty from the desert outside, as were his black riding boots. His dark chocolate skin was smooth, unblemished and unadorned of tattoos or piercings. The shadow of black facial hair had the slightest hint of grey, and if I had to hazard a guess, I would say Stone was late 30s or early 40s, but when he had smiled he seemed to lose a decade.
“How old are you?” I found myself asking, and as soon as the question left my mouth I wanted to swallow it back up. Well, can’t do shit about it now. His gaze darted back to me, calculating, as if my question was anything other than innocent.
“Thirty-one,” he finally answered after a long pause. “You?”
“Twenty-two.” I gave him a cheeky smile. Big, bad Stone was making small talk with me. I internally chuckled at the oddity of the conversation. His brows shot up when I answered him.
“Twenty-two and already a famous criminal?” He was shocked, his tone incredulous which wasn’t surprising but slightly insulting. I bristled as he continued. “When did you start stealing?”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” I taunted. My double meaning was obvious in my seductive tone, but truthfully I only meant for my past since I didn’t like to share unless I got some shit in return. Like I said, I don’t give shit away for free.
“No thanks, thief.” His semi-open demeanor slammed shut as soon as the question was out. His scowl was back in full force as he shot the rest of his alcohol, the glass crashing down against the bar top loudly in the quiet of the room. He stood, towering over me as he glared. “You can’t flirt your way into my bed. You’re an outsider and a threat to the club and that’s exactly how it’s going to stay.”
“Who said I was trying to get anywhere near your dick? But whatever you say, Grave,” I sneered his road name, not appreciating the fact that I was being made out to be a bad guy yet again. I mean, I might be an asshole, but damn, I’m not that far into the evil front. Before I realized he was moving, his hand clutched my jaw between his rough fingers to the point of near pain from the strength of his grip.