High-Sided: An Armed & Dangerous Novel (4 page)

She shrugged. “No clue. I figured you’d be the one to know.”

“Whoever it is,” Sean said, “hopefully, they can figure out what the fuck’s going on.”

I’d always known my father harbored secrets he didn’t want known, but if my team was in danger, I wasn’t going to sit by and let them get hurt. One way or another, I
was
going to find out the truth.

“I’
m so ready to take a vacation,” Micah grumbled. The perp had cut his arm during the scuffle and blood dripped all over the floor. He dug his knee into the serial killer’s back so I could handcuff him.

The old, abandoned house smelled like piss and trash, and it pissed me off even more that I was touching a man who’d killed over sixty people. The thought of him cutting up another victim made me ill.

I slammed the sick fuck’s head into the floor and hauled him up by his neck. He hissed in pain, which made me want to hold on tighter. “And that’s what we’re going to do once we turn this pathetic piece of shit in.”

His name was Sam MacEntire, a man who’d been on the America’s Top Wanted list for over five years. It took Micah and me three months of non-stop searching, but it was over. On our way outside, I made sure to knock Sam’s head into every wall and door frame we passed. The FBI wanted him alive, but they didn’t say I couldn’t rough him up. Sirens blared down the street, and it wasn’t long before the police had the house surrounded.

Arnold Jenkins, the chief of police of Wichita, thundered up the front porch steps and holstered his gun. “Good job, boys. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.” A small smiled spread across his lips. “Looks like MacEntire lost the match this go around. It’s a shame you couldn’t cut off his dick like he did his other victims.”

“Believe me, I wanted to do a lot worse than that,” I said.

“Don’t worry, he’ll get what’s coming to him.” Two of his officers raced over and took Sam away, locking him up in one of their patrol cars. Arnold’s gaze found Micah’s bloody arm and he hissed. “You’re probably going to need stitches, son.”

Micah glanced down at the gash. “I’ll be okay. Nothing a few bandages and some pain meds can’t cure.”

Arnold nodded. “Now that MacEntire’s in custody, all we’ll need is for you to come down to the station to sign some papers. I’m sure you’re both ready to get out of Kansas.”

“You have no idea,” I sighed, taking a seat on the steps.

When Micah and I had traced Sam’s location to Wichita, it didn’t take long to find the sick bastard. He had a thing for young boys, so it wasn’t a surprise when we found him lurking at one of the local middle school baseball games. I had a way of distinguishing the good people from the bad; it was a skill a lot of FBI agents had. I guess you could say it was more of an intuition type of thing, not exactly something you learn from textbooks.

As much as that skill was valued in my line of work, there were times you needed a break. I had hit my breaking point.

Arnold looked back at the patrol car, where MacEntire glared at us. “I guess I better take him in, so I can tell the world he’s been caught. I’ll see you both at the station,” he said, nodding at us both.

Micah took off his T-shirt and wrapped it around his arm. “The fuckhead ruined my tattoo,” he growled. He moved his shirt so I could see the gash. He was right, once his wound healed, his tattoo wouldn’t look the same with the scar.

We were almost exactly the same as far as height, build, and age, but his whole left arm and back were covered in tattoos. Other than that, most women thought we looked alike.

Getting to my feet, I pointed down the street where we’d left our car. “Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.”

I thought he’d fight me on it, but he followed me to the car. I’d never worked with him before, but he turned out to be one of the best FBI agents around—other than myself. That was why the FBI called us in to work together. On the way to the hospital, he leaned his head back against the seat.

“I’m serious about taking a break,” he said. “Let’s pack up our shit and ride our bikes across the country, meet some women, and forget life for a while.”

I chuckled. “You’d seriously slow down enough to do that?” Micah was like me, a workaholic. It was all we had. When I caught my first criminal, it became an addiction. I wanted to rid the world of them. But when one was caught, a dozen more would surface. It never ended. It had taken a long time to realize I wasn’t going to be able to save everyone.

“Fuck yeah,” Micah exclaimed. “Let’s do it. We’ll call the bureau tomorrow and tell them we’re skipping town for a while. If we don’t, we’ll get sucked right back in. The bad guys will still be around when we get back.”

I loved my job, but he had a point. I hadn’t had a break since I started walking again after the accident. After that, I kept moving and never looked back. “You know what? I think you might be right. Let’s do it.”

Three Days Later

I’
d turned in my notice for an extended vacation and thought I’d get shit from my superior, but he knew I was getting burnt out. My bike was ready to go, my saddlebags and tank bag filled with all my clothes and toiletries. Being on a sport bike didn’t leave much space to pack for trips, but I worked with what I had.

After the accident, my parents had tried to get me away from motorcycles, but it was in my blood. I just never went back to racing. It took a year to be able to walk right, and after I healed, it was too late to go back—for many reasons.

The sound of Micah’s motorcycle echoed down the street. When he pulled in on his sleek, red and black Honda CB1000R, he took off his helmet and smiled. “Ready to go, fucker?”

“Almost. Need to grab my phone.”

I hurried inside and grabbed it off my kitchen counter, only to see I’d missed a couple of calls. They were both from Levi. Ever since I had left eight years ago, we talked monthly to keep in touch.

When I walked outside, Micah was sitting on my GSXR. “Dude, I love this blue. Is it custom?”

“Yep. I wanted something different.” I held up my phone. “I need to return Levi’s call before we go. It won’t take long.”

He waved me off. “No worries. I’ll take your bike for a spin.”

“Go for it.” The key was in the ignition, so he started it up and drove off. I called Levi back and waited for him to pick up.

“Hey, man,” he answered, his voice sounding off.

“Wassup? I saw you called.”

“Yeah, there’s something I need to talk to you about. Got a minute?”

“Sure, go ahead.” I could tell something was wrong.

“I told you about the break in we had last week, right?”

“Yep.”

He sighed. “Miller ended up finding it in Ethan’s garage.”

“Holy fuck,” I gasped. Ethan Landis was an honest man and had been a mentor of mine when I rode for Bennett Pro Racing. He wasn’t the type of person to steal anything. If he wanted that tire changer, all he had to do was go out and buy one. “That makes no sense,” I said.

“Exactly. Richard fired him and it’s been a huge mess. Kass confronted him and he said some things to her, things that have me concerned.”

“Like what?”

“Like your accident. Ethan seems to think it was intentional, just like him getting framed.”

My blood boiled. If someone had tampered with my bike, I’d kill them. That wreck fucked my entire life up. “How does he know it was intentional?” I growled.

“He said there were other things that had happened over the years. When Kassidy demanded the truth, Richard wouldn’t tell her . . . but he pulled me aside and told me. Someone is seriously trying to drag Bennett Racing down.”

I leaned against the wall and ran a hand through my hair. “What exactly do you and Richard want me to do?”

“We want you to come out here and race again, undercover. No one knows you’re an FBI agent, other than me and Richard.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I exclaimed. “I can’t come out there. The best thing for me to do is work from a distance. Richard can give me names and I’ll investigate, but I’m
not
coming out there.”

He huffed. “Why not? This is what you do. We need your help, Logan. Maybe you and Kassidy could even make up.”

“That ship sailed a long time ago, my friend. I don’t want to come out there because it doesn’t make sense. I don’t race anymore.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Your riding is probably better now than it ever has been. Don’t you want to find out if someone
did
try to fuck you over? You almost died, man.”

Micah pulled into the driveway and came to a halt when he saw me. My fists shook, as the rage overtook me. “If someone messed with my bike on purpose, you better believe I’m going to find out who did it. And when I do, nothing’s going to keep me from going after them. Have Richard call me with the names.” I hung up as he shouted my name. I’d left that part of my life a long time ago, and even if I wanted it back, it was too late.

T
he wind was warm as it blew across my skin, letting me know summer was here. I thought a ride at Deals Gap would soothe my frazzled nerves, but it only made things worse. All I could think about was what Ethan had said and how, after a week, I still had no answers.

“Has your dad said anything to you?” Sean asked, taking the seat across from me. He handed me a bottle of water and I guzzled it down.