“It does,” Casey explained with a lovely smile that made me instantly dislike her. “We need to know you have the proper motivation.”
“A member of their club beat me and tried to rape me, they bring thousands of dollars’ worth of illegal firearms into the province every year, which contributes to making Vancouver have the highest rate of gun crime per capita in the country.” I unwrapped a piece of Hubba Bubba gum from my pocket and popped it into my mouth. “That good enough for ya?”
“It has nothing to do with the fact that your father is the President of a motorcycle club based in Entrance? To our knowledge they don’t have a history of discord, but how are we supposed to believe that you aren’t doing this to better your father’s club?” Renner asked.
I hadn’t thought of that. Of course, they were kind of right. I did want to take down Berserkers MC because of my family, because I wanted to protect them. Not that I was going to tell them that.
“I guess you can’t really know, but as you said, there is no history of beef between the two MC’s.” The two officers shared a look and I felt traction slide out from under me. “What about this? I promise to limit contact with my family until the investigation is over.”
They looked just as shocked as I felt about making that concession.
I spoke to my family every day, even more since the accident. Cress and King had graduated from UBC the year before, but we were used to seeing each other weekly so they called a lot, just to shoot the shit. Loulou and I had been through hell together, so I didn’t think it was strange that we texted every day, sometimes just with memes or song suggestions, any excuse to make contact. My dad texted me twice a day, every day since I’d moved to Vancouver for university. Once in the morning before I left for school saying “kick some academic ass today, princess,” and the other before I went to bed every night, “dream sweet, little badass.”
I loved them. They were a critical part of my day even though I lived an hour away.
But yeah, I’d give that up if it meant keeping them safe.
They wouldn’t understand, but maybe I could use the incident as a reason to need space…
“Miss Garro?” Casey asked. “You’re that serious about this?”
“I am,” I said and I could feel that one word like a signature in blood on contract with the devil.
After all, who better to represent the devil to a biker chick than the cops?
It was basically a breeze after that, which made me mildly uneasy. How many confidential informants did the cops have? I’d have to mention to Dad when this was all over how ridiculously easy it was to convince them to take me on.
They explained the ins and outs of the operation, that I was to look for evidence that would incriminate the club in smuggling and arms dealing. I would report to my ‘handler’ the wonderfully pretty Casey by text over a newly gifted burner phone only when I had something important to relate, and that from this point on I would be referred to only by my number designation.
I requested the number 69, but cops never had a sense of humor.
Casey was walking me out of the room, confirming that our met place would be UBC’s Café Ami, when I felt the mood hit the room.
Palpable anger rolled through the station like a nuclear blast, drawing everyone’s attention to the front of the station where Danner stood staring at Casey and me.
Oh, boy.
A thrill of delicious fear and anticipation zapped down my back. There was nothing like an angry hot guy to make a girl weak in the knees.
Only… I frowned as the woman beside me laughed and descended the stairs on a glide to come to a standstill before him.
She laughed then rose on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his unshaven cheek. “You shouldn’t be here, mister.”
I blinked.
Danner took his eyes off me to look into the face of the pretty cop and he raised an eyebrow. “Renner texted me. Said we had a new asset he had to speak with me about. Please don’t tell me it’s the Garro girl.”
The Garro girl.
Not Rosie.
Not Harleigh Rose.
I shouldn’t have been angry, not when I called him Danner for the exact reason he’d just called me by my last name. To remind the both of us that this was a modern-day Capulet vs. Montague situation, and at the end of the day no matter that we avoided it, we stood apart from each other across a great divide.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Casey said with another light laugh. “But I think you’ll be happy when you realize how committed she is to this.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” he muttered before giving her shoulder a pat and moving up the stairs toward me.
“You are in so much trouble,” he murmured to me as he passed by. “And I think you’re finally fucking old enough to feel the real pain of my displeasure.”
I swayed back from the sheer heat of his words then gritted my teeth so I could focus on what was important. “Another girlfriend, Danner?”
He looked over his shoulder at me, his glare smoldering. “I’ll break up with her tonight if you promise to be in my bed, ready to be punished by ten.”
My lips parted, releasing emotions I wish I’d kept sewn up tight. Mainly, pure desire and greed.
He flashed me a wicked, lopsided grin that made his green eyes flare and drawled, “Yeah, Rosie, I’ll see you tonight.”
I stared after him as he strolled away, watching the way his long, strong legs ate up the floor, the way the breadth of his shoulders strained his grey tee and his lean hips made his jeans sit loose enough to shift tantalizingly over his fucking fantastic behind.
When I jerked out of it, I looked around to make sure no one had caught me ogling, then wiped the corners of my mouth for any errant drool. As I walked out of the station and over the three blocks to where I’d parked my car (it paid to be paranoid), I tried to convince myself I wouldn’t be at his house that night.
I’d always been a skilled liar, but even I wasn’t talented enough to make that true.
I was at the library late, mostly because my apartment felt haunted by the greasy essence of Cricket’s spirit, but also because I was a good student. In high school, I was lucky enough to get by on sheer intelligence and pure luck, because I didn’t try for shit. It was only after I’d witnessed the havoc cancer wrecked on Loulou and thus, my family, that I found a reason to try. I wanted to be a nurse. Not a doctor, though there was nothing wrong with the profession. I wanted to be the unsung hero for the sick and hospital-ridden, the person that developed a relationship with them, gave them what moral and medicine they needed to survive the ordeals life had thrown in their paths. My family was shocked at first when I’d declared my intention, everyone but Loulou. She’d smiled her movie star smile at me and declared it was an awesome idea.
The night was cold for June and inky black. I tugged my leather jacket closer around me, wishing I’d brought Hero with me as I moved to the parking lot. A prickle of unease shot like needles into the delicate skin at the back of my neck when I opened the car door, but there wasn’t a soul in sight and I told myself I was being paranoid.
I should have listened to my intuition. I was a woman and it was one of the deadliest tools in our arsenal.