by Ivy Black
The explosion roars, sending a fireball skyward as the ground beneath our feet shakes. Everybody drops to a knee, the Warriors all looking around, eyes wide and fear on their faces. I trigger the second bomb just to give myself a little more cover and then make my move.
I dash forward, closing the distance between me and Tarantula in mere seconds. I have my arm around his throat and my gun to his head before he or his guys even know what’s going on. I drag him backward, my gun flush against his temple, and pull him back to where Prophet’s standing.
The Warriors get to their feet and point their weapons at us. Bala is glaring at me with hatred in his eyes and his face twisted with rage. Prophet, Cosmo, and Monk all follow suit, their weapons gleaming coldly in the sun.
“Stop,” Prophet shouts. “This ain’t what we want.”
“Tell your guys to back off,” I growl in Tarantula’s ear.
“You’re makin’ a big mistake—”
“I said tell them to back the fuck off. Now,” I spit.
“I’m gonna kill you, homes,” he says to me. “You don’t put your fuckin’ hands on me.”
“I do when I need to make you see some common sense,” I tell him. “Now tell your guys to holster their weapons and to calm the fuck down. We need to have a talk here.”
Tarantula hesitates but finally gestures for his men to holster their weapons—which they do reluctantly.
“All right. I’m going to let go of you now,” I tell Tarantula. “But you need to keep your cool. We all have to have some real talk here. You got me?”
“Yeah... I got you,” he said, his voice hard.
I release my hold on Tarantula and he turns around, but true to his word, he keeps his cool. I cut a glance at Prophet who gives me a nod, his expression telling me that since I made this play, to see it through and take the lead on this. I holster my weapon and turn back to Tarantula.
“Listen, I give you my word that we never even considered that you guys jacked our trucks. And I give you my word that we didn’t kill your guys,” I say. “It makes no sense. We’ve been working well together for a while now. Why would we want to jeopardize the relationship we built? It makes zero sense. Think about it, man.”
“Then who did?”
I shake my head. “It’ll sound crazy, but somebody wants to pit us against each other for some reason.”
“Who’d do that?” Bala asks.
I shrug. “Got no idea yet and I don’t know why, but somebody wants us at war,” I tell him. “They either want to distract us, or they want us to kill each other. One of the two. So they jack our shipments, kill your guys then wind us all up, and let us have at it.”
I see Tarantula considering it then look over at Bala who seems to have followed along that train of thought with me. He gives me a nod and seems to relax a bit. Tarantula rubs his chin, and I see some of the fire he came roaring in here with start to fade.
“Yeah, okay. I guess that makes sense,” Tarantula says.
“So the question then is, what are we gonna do about it?” Prophet asks.
“We’re gonna have to find out who’s tryin’ to set this in motion,” I say.
“How do we do that?” Bala asks.
“Not sure yet,” Prophet says. “But give us a little time. We’ll figure it out.”
Tarantula sighs. “This is fuckin’ bullshit,” he says. “Ain’t nothin’ ever easy here.”
Prophet chuckles. “How boring would life be if shit was easy?”
A tight smile crosses Tarantula’s face, but I can see that he’s still a little wary. He’s not one hundred percent sold on what I said but he’s mostly there. He’s willing to let us play this out and see where it leads anyway. I’m sure he figures if nothing else, he can kill us all later. Which means I need to find out who’s behind this. And since I know Tarantula isn’t the most patient dude ever, I need to do it quickly.
“Keep me in the loop,” Tarantula says.
“Will do,” Prophet replies. “And squeeze your sources. See if you hear about anything going on.”
Tarantula gives him a nod. “All right, ese. We’ll see where this goes.”
We all watch as the Warriors mount up and ride off, leaving us standing there. Prophet turns to me, an expression of relief on his face.
“Nice work, kid,” he says.
“Yeah, if nothing else, he gave us a little extra time to prepare for war,” Cosmo adds.
Chapter Seventeen
Hadley
“Do you think he did it?” I ask.
Brent frowns and taps his pen on his pad of paper. “Don’t know, don’t care,” he replies. “And neither should you.”
We’re sitting in the conference room at the office, having just finished up with a new client who stands accused of murdering his wife. He’s a wealthy, entitled, arrogant jerk, and I have no trouble believing he killed his wife. He just gives me that kind of vibe.
“Hadley, one of the first things you should know about doing this kind of work is that you never ask the clients whether or not they’re guilty,” he says. “It just complicates things. All you need to focus on is finding ways to destroy the prosecutor’s case. If you can put on a solid defense and create reasonable doubt, you’ve done your job.”
I frown. “Doesn’t it bother you that Mr. Daniels might have killed his wife?” I ask. “Or rather, that he probably killed his wife?”
He shrugs. “It’s not my job to care. If you’re worried about morality or whether your client is innocent or not, defense work may not be for you,” he says. “There’s no place for rigid morals when you’re defending people accused of the most heinous crimes. I know it sounds horrible, but that’s the truth.”
I sit back in my chair and think about it for a moment. No, I don’t like it. Not at all. I hate the thought that a guy like Daniels might be walking around, free to enjoy life after possibly murdering his wife. But I know Brent is right. This is the job. And I can’t just pick out the parts of the job that I like and discard those I don’t.
“Anyway, we’re done with the initial interview,” he says. “Go ahead and go on home. We’ll start prepping for the prelim tomorrow.”
I give him a salute and get to my feet and gather my things. I turn and start walking toward the door, but Brent stops me so I turn back to him.
“We have to deal with some real scumbags in this line of work, kid. But for me, it’s worth it only because I feel it’s our responsibility to defend those who actually are innocent. Those who are getting a raw deal.”
“I get it. It’s just tough getting guys like Daniels off—it’s a little tough to swallow.”
“I hear you. But remember, it is possible he didn’t do it.”
Brent smiles, but it’s weak and watery, and I can tell even he’s pretty sure that Daniels is guilty as sin. But this is the job, so I’d do well to make my peace with that sooner rather than later.
“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say.
“Yes, you will.”
I walk back to my desk, grab my bag, and sling it over my shoulder as I head out for the night. I want to cook something tonight rather than order out, so I stop by the grocery store to pick some things up. As I stroll through the aisles, the skin on the back of my neck prickles and I feel the hair standing on end.
A fluttering in my belly, I turn around and scan the store behind me but don’t see anybody paying any undue attention to me. And yet the feeling of being watched persists. I try to shake it off though and continue shopping but keep an eye peeled, surreptitiously watching the store around me. By the time I check out, the feeling hasn’t gone away, but I haven’t spotted anybody watching me either.
I push the cart through the lot and head for my car. But as I draw near, I feel my stomach lurch as a current of ice flows through me. This probably explains that creepy feeling of being watched I had in the store. Christopher Rollins, ATF agent extraordinaire, is leaning against
my car, his arms folded over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle. He’s the perfect picture of relaxation with a smile on his face.
I look around the parking lot, looking for somebody who can witness what’s happening here. There isn’t anybody close enough to intervene if Rollins gets violent with me. My stomach and heart are both fluttering wildly, I swallow hard and stand up straighter, doing my best to avoid showing him how scared I am.
“Fancy runnin’ into you here, Hadley,” he says cheerfully.
“If you’re stalking me, can you really say you ran into me?”
“Stalking? That’s a pretty loaded term.”
“Then what would you call it when you just show up out of thin air?”
“I call it a coincidence. I stopped by to pick up a few things and—”
“Save it,” I snap. “Why are you following me around? Don’t you have something better to do? Maybe you can go hassle the Pharaohs again for no earthly reason.”
He arches an eyebrow at me. “And what would you know about that?”
“Other than them being good guys—veterans, all of them—and doing a lot for this community?”
“They’re hardly good guys, Hadley—”
“I think I’m a better judge of that than you since I happen to be dating one of them,” I spit.
His face betrays his surprise as he looks at me, and I feel a flash of a grim satisfaction. Of course, I’m embellishing my relationship with Milo. I wouldn’t say we’re dating. I only said it to get a reaction out of Rollins—as well as to send him a message. I want him to know that if he keeps messing with me, he’s going to be opening a big can of worms for himself.
“Color me surprised, Hadley. I thought you were smarter and had better taste than that,” he says.
I shrug. “I honestly don’t care what you think about me. Now get off my car and get the fuck away from me. I don’t ever want to see you again. Do you understand me? Ever again.”
He frowns and looks down at the ground for a moment but doesn’t get off my car. Instead, he slides his hands into his pockets and looks at me.
“I’ll be honest with you here, Hadley. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says. “Ever since we first met, there’s just something about you that’s been stuck in my mind.”
I’m taken aback by his words, trying to understand the insanity of it all. But then I give myself a little shake. There’s no making sense of it. Further, I don’t need to understand it. I stiffen my spine and give Rollins the most defiant look I can manage—not an easy feat given how terrified I am.
“I couldn’t have been clearer about how not interested I am in you,” I tell him. “Or that I want you to leave me alone.”
“That’s because you don’t know me yet and—”
“And I don’t want to know you,” I hiss. “You need to get off my car. Now. And you also need to leave me alone.”
“Hadley—”
“Get off my car and get the hell away from me now, or I start screaming rape.”
His expression darkens, and his frown deepens. He hesitates a moment but then pushes off my car and takes a few steps away from me.
“You don’t need to do this, Hadley,” he says.
“If you ever come near me again—ever—I will call your bosses at the ATF and tell them exactly what you’re doing,” I say, putting as much ice in my voice as I can. “I will rain hell down on your life. You can kiss your career goodbye. I promise you that, Rollins.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, and the air between us crackles with electricity. I give him the best sneer I can, trying to project an image of calm and strength. It’s then that a thought occurs to me. I narrow my eyes and clench my jaw.
“It was you. You’re the one who broke into my apartment. You dug through my things like some fucking creep,” I say.
He doesn’t say anything, and his face doesn’t betray one hint of emotion. He knows I’m fishing and just looks at me. I can tell he’s not going to tell me, even unintentionally with his nonverbal cues. But it rings the bell of truth inside my mind. It had to be Rollins. It’s the only thing that makes any sense to me at all. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before now. But it had to be him.
“Get away from me, Rollins. Go. Now,” I hiss.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he says.
“Yeah, it does.”
His expression becomes malevolent, and his frown turns into a scowl. But he turns and walks away. Apparently, he values his job more than he seems to get off on scaring me. Thankfully.
I quickly load the groceries into my car then jump in and drive out of there as quickly as I can.
***
“You’re kidding me,” Milo says through gritted teeth.
I shake my head. “Ever since he got into town, he’s been stalking me,” I tell him. “I am absolutely certain he’s the one who broke into my place.”
“Makes sense,” he grumbles. “Son of a bitch.”
I watch Milo pace the front room of his house from my position on the couch. I’ve just told him everything about Rollins stalking me, and I can see how upset it’s made him. I wouldn’t have told him if he hadn’t sniffed out my upset when I got home and he pressed me about it. I hate that Milo can always see straight through me and that I can’t hide anything from him. And I’m kicking for it only because I can see how pissed he is. But to his credit, he’s maintaining himself pretty well.
“I think I need to have a talk with him,” Milo growls.
“Please don’t,” I reply. “I’d rather just let this issue die.”
“Do you really think this issue is going to die? Do you really think he’s going to just walk away from you like that?”
“I think the fact that I threatened to call his supervisors scared him,” I reply. “I don’t think he’s willing to risk his job over me.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’re being a bit naïve here.”
I arch my eyebrow at him. “And how am I supposed to not take that the wrong way exactly?”
He chuckles. “By taking it in the spirit I meant it in—which is one of concern for you.”
A small smile touches my lips. “Okay, fine. Fair enough.”
“Guys like Rollins aren’t used to hearing the word, ‘no’. They’re used to giving orders and having them followed,” he says. “And when they’re told no, they push even harder to get what it is they want. This isn’t over, Had. He’s going to keep coming back.”
“Then I’ll call his superiors. I’ll get him fired.”
Milo frowns and continues pacing the room. I can tell he doesn’t like that answer and that he’s thinking about doing something to get Rollins off my back and that worries me. But I also think it’s really sweet.
“I don’t want you to do something stupid, Milo.”
He gives me a crooked smile. “When have you ever known me to do something stupid?”
I roll my eyes but laugh. “You know what I mean. I don’t want you tangling with Rollins. I don’t want you to be hurt. Nor do I want him to arrest you,” I tell him. “And I know if you get into it with him, you’re going to end up one of the two.”
“Do you have such little faith in me?” he says. “I’m not the same man, Hadley. I plan on having a talk with him. That’s all.”
I gnaw on my lower lip as I look at him, worried. I know I can’t stop Milo if he gets it in his head to go after Rollins. And while I really appreciate him protecting my honor like that, I worry about him. A guy like Rollins doesn’t have boundaries. More than that, he’s got the power of the law on his side and if he gets it into his head to go after Milo, he’s got a whole arsenal of weapons at his disposal that Milo won’t be able to counter.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t, Milo. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Worried about me, huh?”
I laugh and shake my head. “You’re impossi
ble.”
“Sometimes,” he says.
He walks over to me and pulls me into a tight embrace. I melt against him, laying my head on his chest, relishing the moment as I listen to the steady thumping of his heart. I’ve always appreciated moments like these with him. For being such a rough-and-tumble kind of guy, he’s also incredibly gentle. At least with me. I can’t say he’d be the same way with a guy like Rollins.
As I let him hold me, a smile stretches across my face as I feel him stroking my hair. It feels nice. And being in his arms feels wonderful. Better than that, it feels completely normal and natural. Far more so than it should. But I can’t deny that I like it. That I like these tender and intimate moments we share.
I also can’t deny that with his arms around me like they are, I want to feel this more often. Being in his arms like this sends pleasant shivers along my every nerve ending and makes my heart stutter drunkenly inside of me. He still has the same effect on me he did when we got together. If anything, it seems even stronger now.
Yeah, this is starting to get every bit as complicated as I thought it was going to. The trouble is, I don’t entirely hate it.
Chapter Eighteen
Nitro
“You think about your club name yet?” I ask.
Blake grins. “Nah. I don’t like putting the cart before the horse, y’know?”
As a general rule, we don’t get to pick our own club names. They solicit our opinions, of course, but Leadership makes the final ruling and name us when we’re patched in. I’m just sort of curious what Blake would pick if given the choice. Picking a name is sort of a Rorschach test of sorts. The name you’d pick for yourself kind of reflects how you see yourself. And I’m sort of curious how Blake sees himself.
“What do you mean?” I ask. “Cart before the horse?”
He shrugs. “I’m a prospect, man. It’s too soon to be thinkin’ about getting my patch just yet let alone my club name.”