STRIKE: Storm Runners Motorcycle Club 2 (SRMC) (21 page)

“I wish I could believe that. I’m going to talk to your friends and see how we can handle the operation at Ladies Night. Also, Tom,” she paused, turning back to him in the open doorway. “I won’t go in unless I have a police officer watching my back.”

“But…”

“No. You’re not going to take some guy out of the club and get answers from him on your own. If he has information, we’re going to get it the right way.”

Tom nodded, but his gut tightened. When she left, he sat down on his bed and wished he could ignore the scent of her perfume that still lingered in the air.

CHAPTER 24

“
D
oes everyone understand what’s happening tonight?” Ace faced the men selected to go into Ladies Night and keep an eye out for Butch’s man. “You don’t know Grace. You aren’t together. Every man enters alone and takes the places we’ve already discussed.” He spoke with a quiet authority that had Grace even sitting up and paying attention.

“Do not let her out of your sight at any time,” Tom said. “When she’s backstage, I’ll keep an eye on her. The rest of the time, I need to know everyone else is keeping her in view.”

“Watch the other women, too,” Grace interjected. “We almost lost Mandi one night in the crowd. There’s no way to know they won’t try to go for her again while they can.”

“Fair enough,” Jack said. “We’ll have at least two men near any exits, and more outside. There’s no way they’re getting out of this.”

“And if they try to shoot her while she’s on stage?”

“We’ll see him before he gets the chance.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Grace said. “I campaigned to join this investigation for months before I was offered a spot undercover. I’m not entirely without skills.” But her assurances didn’t soothe the unease in Tom when he pictured her exposed in front of a sea of people.

“Let’s mount up.” Grace climbed onto the back of Tom’s bike and got her balance. Reaching into her pocket, she fingered the tiny device there and hesitated only a second before she reached under the passenger seat pad and affixed it there. Then she wrapped her arms around Tom. The warmth that spiraled up from the contact was expected, but unwelcome.

“Hold tight,” he said. She did, wondering if it was the last time she’d ever hold him in her life.

_____

When she entered the club, she saw the man Chief Anderson promised to send by the bar, as well as four Storm Runners already inside. Peeking through the stage entrance, she memorized their faces and took a deep breath, readying herself for the night.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this shit here,” Peter moaned behind her, still talking to Tom. “I agreed to a police presence, not a fucking sting.”

“It’s not a sting,” Tom clenched his fists and reminded himself that hitting the manager was not a good idea. “It’s just a stake out. Once we see the man, we’ll get him outside.”

“Where he will be arrested,” Grace said pointedly, looking at Tom. He didn’t speak.

“You’re up for the third number,” Peter said. “I really hope this is your last damn night here. You’ve been a thorn in my side since the day you walked in.”

“I hope so too,” Grace said. “But remember that I know these women now—and if you treat them badly once I’m gone, I’ll be back.”

“I’m really scared,” he said, but there was a flicker in his eyes.

“If he mistreats them, call me,” Tom said, his eyes locked on Peter’s. “We really hate men who hurt women.” Now Peter paled and nodded, scampering out of the backstage area and onto the floor where he could pretend he held some kind of power.

“I’m staying back here until you go out,” Tom said, cutting her off when she started to suggest that he follow Peter.

“You can get a better look at the men in the crowd if you go out now.”

“You’re my priority.”

“I’m sure,” she said, rolling her eyes. Once she’d exchanged the yoga pants and sweatshirt for a short skirt and tight white shirt with a tie, she tucked her hair into a cap and covered it with a bright blonde wig. Then she pouted her lips and started applying makeup.

“You’re still beautiful,” Tom said, looking over his shoulder at her, “but you’re more beautiful when you’re Grace and not all these other women you dress up as.”

She started to smile, then remembered that every word out of his mouth was suspect. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

Soon the music changed and it was almost her turn to go on. As she stood by the entrance to the stage, Tom walked back out into the club, stationing himself close to where she would dance.

Hard rock pounded through the speakers when she walked out onto the stage. Grace scanned the room as she started her routine, shaking her hips and shimmying in place. Ace was close to the secondary stage, watching the room the same way she was. Jack was at one end of the bar; Crash at the other. Near the center was the man she looked for.

He was wearing a navy blue jacket with a white shirt underneath and navy slacks. His head was covered by a Tigers baseball cap and when they locked eyes, he scrubbed his hand over his mouth. A sigh of relief flashed through her. Anderson was clear on what the man would be wearing and how he’d react when he saw her. She trusted the Storm Runners to protect her, but she would need backup when and if an arrest was made tonight.

Reaching for the pole, Grace pulled herself up on it, using a hand to lift her body while one of her legs twisted around. When she released it, she was upside down and the long tendrils of the wig almost brushed the floor. She caught Tom’s gaze and he smiled at her, which almost made her grin in response. Flipping upright again, she used the pole to shimmy closer to the ground, pulling away the first layer of her outfit, then bending deep before rising again.

As she rose, her eyes left Tom’s and she looked over the club once more. Crash grinned and gave her a thumbs up, but everyone else was stoic, on guard. She looked at the waiting officer once more to confirm her backup. He smiled at her. She took a deep breath and rose from the crouch she’d gone into.

That’s when the police officer reached into his pocket and she saw the flash of metal under the club lights. Confusion rocked her just before she dove as a shot rang out.

_____

“It’s him.”

Jack tackled Clutch as Tom pushed through the crowd that was surging as one toward the exits. Before the burly older man could react, Jack had him in a headlock and his face was turning puce from lack of air.

“Grace,” Tom leapt onto the stage where she’d flattened herself against the floor. “Are you shot?” He reached out and turned her over, examining her body for wounds. “Answer me.”

“I’m okay.” Her entire frame was shaking. If Jack hadn’t been fast enough to take Clutch down, there was no way his second shot would have missed. “I’m okay. I just don’t understand.”

“The man that tried to shoot you was a member of the Storm Runners before we split. He works for Butch.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s the man Chief Anderson sent. He gave me the signal and wore the exact outfit I’d been told to look for.”

They met eyes and Grace paled ever further. “Oh my god.”

“Either he took the place of the man Anderson sent, or…” Tom trailed off.

“Or Anderson is as dirty as everyone else.” She took Tom’s hand as he helped her to her feet, unsteady on her heels. When she stumbled, Tom cursed and lifted her into his arms. “Let me take care of you.” He carried her backstage and helped her put on warm clothes, his calloused hands gentle.

“I’m taking you to my apartment for the night. The bar is closed for ‘renovations’ and you can be locked in with the security code. We’ll leave a guard as well.”

“Where will you go?”

“Back to the clubhouse.”

“Why?”

“I know you don’t want to be near me right now, Grace, but I can’t let you go home. You’ll sleep better at the bar and can take as much space as you want.”

She nodded, then her brow furrowed. “What is going to happen to the man who tried to shoot me?”

Tom’s eyes flattened. “He’s going to get what he deserves.”

CHAPTER 25

“
H
ow far have you gotten?” Tom stalked into the basement and shut the reinforced door behind him, blocking out the moans of the man cuffed to the chair in the center of the room. His eyes were already swollen, black and puffy where he’d been hit again and again in the face.

“Pretty far,” Jack confirmed, stretching his fingers and turning away from Clutch. “He admitted that Butch sent him to kill Grace.”

“Did you kill an officer and take his place, Clutch?” Tom moved forward and knelt in front of the man, who groaned but tried to kick out at him. “Or is Chief Anderson in on it?”

“I killed a fucking cop,” Clutch said, coughing and spitting. His words were clearer after that. “Chief who?” But his eyes were snake eyes, flat and cold. Tom didn’t believe him. “I would have gunned that bitch down on the first try if the lights hadn’t moved and hit me dead in the eyes right then, boys. Bang, bang. Goodbye, bitch.”

Rage ripped through Tom, hot and acrid.

He grasped one of Clutch’s fingers and bent it back. “There’s very little chance you get out of here alive,” he said. “But if you do, there’s also very little chance you’ll be able to use your hands again.” He bent it further, straining the finger to the point just before the bone would break. “Tell me the truth.”

“Oh fuck you,” Clutch said, his gaze blazing. “I’m not telling you anything.”

Tom snapped the finger backward. It broke with a crack like a green twig being bent until it breaks. The man screamed and tried to reflexively pull his arms to his chest, but the cuffs held them in place.

Tom and Jack knelt in front of him. “Let’s try this again.”

_____

“So we have six safe houses and Butch is rotating through them,” Ace said, looking at his fellow executive board members. Tom had washed his hands three times, but still couldn’t get the grimy feeling of Clutch’s blood off his skin. “How many members do we want involved in this?”

“The less the better,” Jack said. “Wet work isn’t something I want a lot of these guys involved in. Protection and shit, that’s different. Killing a man who’s trying to kill you is one thing. But some of them knew Butch and I can’t guarantee he won’t be able to make them pity him and hesitate.”

“And if they hesitate, they’re dead.” Crash nodded, considering Jack’s words. “So do we take them one-by-one?”

“I don’t think so.” Tom looked at the map they’d marked with places where Butch could be hiding. “If we want to find him now and not give him a new reason to run and hide like a scared chicken shit, we should stake out all six at once.”

“There are four of us and six houses,” Ace pointed out, gesturing to the map. “I don’t want anyone going in alone.”

“Just watch,” Tom said. “Keep a low profile. When we see him, we call the others and wait to act until we can go in as a group.”

“Fair enough,” Ace said. “What are you going to tell Grace?”

“Nothing,” Tom pushed back the sick feeling that thickened his throat. “After it’s done, I’ll tell her and let her decide what she wants to do about everything.”

“Jack, pick two men who can be trusted to cover the two we can’t,” Ace said. “Then everyone needs to mount up and get eyes on the houses.”

_____

Grace waited until noon before she let herself become restless. Pulling out her phone, she scrolled through the news and responded to an email from Mandi, who was having a great time on her vacation. After this was settled, she might use the rest of her time off the force to fly home and soak up some rays, she thought.

Tom didn’t call.

Downstairs, she made brunch for herself and the two men guarding her. Shoveling eggs into her mouth, she scrolled through a book on her tablet. Thunder was filled with noise and people at night, but during the day it felt so empty.

Tom didn’t call.

After her shower, she pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, then slid her feet into thick socks and her work boots. Grace called Tom’s cell three times, and the third time it went straight to voicemail. Each time the phone rang in her ear, her nerves ramped up higher.

Sighing, she opened the tracking app on her phone and used it to locate the GPS tracker she’d placed under the passenger seat of his Harley the night before. He was in a rundown section of Detroit, according to the readout. No reason she could see that he wouldn’t be answering the phone. Maybe if he’d been at the club, she’d have understood. After all, their weekly meeting—what they called church—was sacrosanct.

Creeping back down the stairs, she yawned and made chitchat with the two men sitting there. Quietly, wrapping her hands around them to keep them from jingling, she took the keys to Tom’s truck out from under the bar where they were stashed. Thanking every deity she could think of that her brother had forced her to learn to drive stick, she moved toward the stairs.

“I didn’t sleep well last night,” she said, “so I’m probably going to nap for a few hours, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah. Of course.” The men looked up from a game of cards they were playing, nodding.

She smiled and went back upstairs, putting the classical radio station on Tom’s music player so that the soft notes of a piano poured gently through the room. Then she opened his window, reached for the tree with branches that reached out and almost brushed the glass, and used that to crawl to the trunk and climb to the ground. Her hands stung from gripping the rough bark of the tree, but she made it in one piece.

Five minutes later, she was on the road to Detroit.

_____

“You didn’t call me.”

Tom turned to see Grace coming up behind him and rose from a crouch. When he got a good look at the rage on her face, he blanched, then turned back to the house where Butch might be hiding.

“I had things to do. Go back to the bar until I come get you, Grace.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” She took his keys out of her pocket and threw them at him. “Your truck is parked two blocks down by Maxon’s.”

“That shit hole?”

“Did you want me to drive it right here?” She gestured to the house that he couldn’t keep his eyes from. “Or are you trying to keep a low profile?”

“Grace…”

“No. Don’t Grace me.” She knelt down where he’d been crouched and he followed her motion, tilting his head closer to hers when her volume lowered. “You may have a feud to settle, but you aren’t a fucking police officer.”

Tom looked different, though she couldn’t pinpoint why, exactly. Sun made the highlights in his hair bright so they glimmered like spun gold. His eyes were cold, but the same hazel she loved to stare up at while he moved inside her.

He was so handsome, she mused, but all that pain and passion—everything he’d offered her—was pretend.

“Yeah, the difference is that I didn’t betray you.” He said the words between clenched teeth.

“What?”

“The man who tried to shoot you was sent by Chief Anderson. Not just Butch.”

“That’s not possible.” But it was. It was possible enough that a lead ball settled in her stomach and for a moment she was worried she’d be sick. “Chief has spent months trying to stop Butch and his disgusting actions. Why would he have an entire task force looking for the man if he wanted to help him?”

“There is no task force.” He spoke quietly, never taking his eyes from the curtained windows of the townhouse. “You were making too much noise, so he pulled you out of the department. Feel honored. At least you didn’t end up with cement shoes.”

“You’re wrong.”

But what if he isn’t
?

“I’m not. I’ve told you before: the police here can’t be trusted. They’re pigs and maybe all of them aren’t on Butch’s payroll but enough are that you aren’t safe if you call anything in. Not until Butch is dead and the cash stops flowing.”

“What are you doing here?”

He sighed. “There are six houses that Butch uses to hide out. This is one of them.” She looked at the nondescript townhouse, surprised that someone would choose it as a place to hide. It wasn’t particularly large, and most of the ones around it had been abandoned long ago.

“Where are the others?”

“We have the other houses covered.”

“For how long?”

“As long as it takes, Grace.” Tom shifted, moving further into the shadow of the hedge as a car passed by and kept going. “I’ll sit here for the rest of the year if that’s what it takes to see whether he’s inside.”

“And if he is?”

“Then the others will join me and we’ll go in.”

“You can’t be sitting here planning murder. That’s no better than him.” Maybe she’d killed a man, but it was in self-defense. God, what if Tom killed the man who shot at her? Cold blooded murder was something she couldn’t understand or condone.

“It’s not?” He laughed. “You’re right. We should let him live to victimize more women and ruin their lives. Maybe if I let him go, there will be four more dead bodies by the end of the week that would have lived if that piece of shit was dead.”

“We can request a transfer for the case once he’s arrested. It can take place somewhere less corrupt.”

“Yeah,” he said, not believing it. But the sound of her voice was grounding him and he wanted to ride the fury that pumped through his veins from the moment they dragged the information out of Clutch. “Maybe.”

She lapsed into silence for so long that if he couldn’t feel the heat from her body, he’d have thought Grace was gone.

“I’m sorry about what he did to your father,” she said, reaching to take his hand.

“Me too.”

He didn’t let go.

_____

Just when she thought she’d have to tap out and go find somewhere to get coffee, there was movement. Another car. But this one stopped—it didn’t keep going, unlike the others that rolled by periodically throughout the day.

The black sedan pulled into the empty space in front of the townhouse and shut off, the engine ticking audible even from across the road. Night beckoned, but the sun was still high enough that Tom and Grace could see the face of the drive clearly when he emerged. Walking around the car, he opened the passenger door, grasped the arm of a thin, brunette woman, and dragged her into the house.

“Tom, I have to go in after her.”

“I’ll call for the guys.”

“Call, but I can’t wait out here,” Grace said, rising and checking her weapons—first her back holster, then her ankle. “I have to go in now. It didn’t look like she wanted to go in.” The woman hadn’t tried to run, but she’d dragged her feet and even wrapped her hand around the banister of the stairwell. The man pulling her inside had his fingers so clenched into her upper arm that the bruised skin around them was turning white.

Tom was already hitting buttons on his phone. “They’re on their way. It shouldn’t take long.”

“I can’t take the risk that something bad will happen to her in the moments it takes us to wait.” She wanted to call for backup—real backup—with everything in her body, but her hands hesitated as they lingered over the pocket where she kept her phone. “I have to go in now.”

“We don’t know how many people are in there.”

“It’s my job, Tom. This is who I am.” She grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him in for a short, hard kiss, then moved back, her lips curving gently. “I’d regret it if I never got to do that again.” Then she started across the road.

Tom cursed, then followed. He sent a quick message to the guys, then pulled his gun. Even if Butch wasn’t inside, something was going on—and since none of the other men had reported even a hint of activity, they needed all the hands they could get.