Riding Dirty (25 page)

“Me?”

“Who else?”

“Wow,” Cole said, wiping the moisture from his face. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.”

This was why Bill was so dangerous. He made tempting offers. Cole was completely unqualified to be head of security, but he had the right attitude, and he could learn. The position would pay well. Funny, he’d never cared about money before. Now that a lucrative offer was being extended to him, his hands itched to grab it. He could see Mia at the casino in a pretty dress, sipping a cocktail. She wouldn’t be ashamed of him if he was a big shot. Powerful and intimidating. The kind of guy who tortured thieves in the back room, took bribes from gangsters and covered up illegal activities.

Yeah. The job came with a lot of baggage. So did Mia, for that matter. And the only place he’d be able to have either was in his dreams.

“What’s the problem?” Bill asked. “Have you lost your balls?”

“No,” Cole said, cupping a hand over his fly. “They’re right here.”

“You’d rather fly planes, is that it?”

He would. A few years ago, Cole had taken flying lessons and earned his private license. Bill had sponsored this endeavor. He knew a pot dealer in Stockton, and he’d wanted Cole to transport the goods. The connect fell through, but Cole had really taken to flying. He’d loved it even more than riding.

“It’s time to grow up,” Bill said.

Cole wondered if Bill had given Rylan the same speech, and Cole’s heart hardened a little. “White Lightning was there last night.”

“I heard.”

“Was that your idea of a test?”

“I had nothing to do with it.”

“I think you should cut ties with those motherfuckers.”

“You’re overstepping, Shank.”

“Did you send Rylan on a home invasion job?”

Bill flinched at the accusation. “Who told you that?”

“Dimebag.”

“He’s a fucking liar,” Bill said, dismissive. “Don’t listen to him.”

“So there was no robbery gone wrong? No woman killed?”

Bill scooted across the bench to another jet, resting his arms on the side. “Is this about your father?”

Cole smothered the urge to grab his uncle by the hair and punch him in the face. Bill’s refusal to answer Cole’s questions could indicate guilt. Or it could indicate insufferable arrogance. Either way, it pissed him off. “What about him?”

“You’ve always resented my successes and bemoaned his failures. But the reality is that some people do well in life, and some don’t. As much as it pains me to admit, your brother wasn’t meant for greatness. But you...you could have it all.”

“I have two felony arrests and an ankle monitor on my leg.”

“You’ve taken your scrapes like a man,” Bill said.

Cole had also kept his mouth shut, like a good boy.

“There’s something inside you, Cole. It’s not ambition. You’re too restless for that. It’s an indestructible spirit. You can’t be defeated.”

Cole cleared his throat, his eyes burning. It was hard to hear criticism of his father and brother, matched with praise for the very qualities his uncle had scolded him for having before. Bill didn’t approve of Cole’s temper, but he liked his “spirit.” Cole was pretty sure that Bill meant every word he said. He was a sincere hypocrite. Bill cared about Cole, and he needed him. What was a man with an empire and no heir?

The most difficult part was that Cole loved him.

His uncle had plucked Cole off the Slabs, wild and dirty. Cole hadn’t gone willingly, but he couldn’t deny that Bill had offered him a better life. Bill had taken Cole and Rylan in. They’d had their own rooms, clean clothes and three square meals a day. Shawnee had doted on them.

Cole loved her, too.

God, he was fucked up.

His uncle’s phone chimed with a new message. Bill wiped his hand on a towel and picked it up. After a quick glance at the screen, he showed it to Cole, whose heart sank like a stone in his chest.

It was a picture of Mia in a short pink robe. She was standing on a doorstep, legs bare. With Damon Vargas.

“You had her followed?” Cole asked, his blood turning to ice.

“For your own good.”

Sure it was. “When was this taken?”

“Just now. Today.”

“By who?”

“One of my guys.”

“Ace?”

Bill closed the screen, his gaze shuttered. Cole was almost certain that Bill was using Ace to do dirty work outside the bounds of the club. “Who’s the man?”

Cole forced his face to remain impassive though he was surprised his uncle didn’t know. Bill made it his business to keep tabs on local investigators. Someone—probably Ace—

had taken the photo from a distance, however, and the quality was poor.

“Maybe she has a brother,” Cole said.

“He looks Mexican.”

“She is Mexican.”

Bill grunted in disbelief. “Be careful.”

“Of what?”

“If you want to date a whore, that’s your business.”

“You’re right, it is my business. So stay the fuck away from her.”

His uncle climbed out of the Jacuzzi tub, wiping his face with a towel. “You can give me your answer about that job in a few days.”

Cole wanted to tell to Bill to take the job and shove it. His uncle thought he could win Cole’s loyalty by isolating him and making him feel like a sucker. Maybe he was a fool for Mia. Maybe she’d betrayed him.

He’d already noted that her background details didn’t add up. A protected witness wouldn’t be in the same area where the crime had occurred. She wouldn’t be counseling a motorcycle club member. Now that his uncle knew where she lived, she was in serious danger. What if Bill had been involved in the home invasion?

Cole thought back to the day she’d told him about her husband’s murder. She’d seemed so genuine. His stomach tightened at the memory of her sitting on the bus bench, tears in her eyes. The air conditioner in her office broke, and she’d locked her keys in her car.

Too much coincidence?

If she was playing him, she’d done it to perfection. She’d displayed an intoxicating combination of sexy enthusiasm, sweet vulnerability and coy hesitation. She was eager to try anything, including eating pussy. She might have been drunk last night, but she’d known what she was doing. She’d licked and sucked and fucked like a natural. Her kinky side was no ruse. She’d enjoyed herself as much as he had.

But was she dirty outside of the bedroom?

Cole rose from the Jacuzzi tub, too agitated to sit still. The boys in the pool had left, so he stripped down to his boxers and dived in, doing lap after lap after lap. Pushing himself harder. He had to know if Mia was being honest with him.

There was only one way to find out.

CHAPTER TWENTY

M
IA HADN’T SLEPT
at all the night before.

She’d tossed and turned for hours, trying to think of a way out of her predicament. She could call WITSEC and come clean. They would probably relocate her and strip her of her license. Damon’s blackmail attempt might earn him a slap on the wrist, if anything. She doubted he’d get fired. Law enforcement was still very much a boys’ club. Some sexual harassment accusations were squashed instead of investigated.

She also had the option of calling WITSEC
without
coming clean. She could claim she’d been having anxiety attacks and request an immediate transfer. But removing herself from the situation wouldn’t help Cole. Damon didn’t care about protecting his informant. He cared only about making arrests and solving crimes—by any means necessary.

Mia gave up on sleep and rose early. She phoned work to say she wasn’t feeling well. Then she curled up on the couch in her dark living room and thought of Philip. He wouldn’t like Cole or approve of what she was doing. Tears filled her eyes as she imagined her husband watching over her in dismay. Philip was the love of her life. Handsome, charming, debonair. But her grip on him had loosened and her memories were faded. When she pictured his face now, what sprang to mind first wasn’t a vivid memory. It was a black-and-white photo of him from their wedding album.

She wasn’t the same person she used to be. Mia Richards had risen from the ashes of Michelle Ruiz. They were two different women. The first was like a brand-new penny, copper-bright and gleaming with possibilities. The second had been burned, melted and forged in a darker hue. She would never be shiny again. Her traumatic past had been imprinted on her, and now sorrow was part of her composition.

It didn’t mean she couldn’t love Cole, or that she hadn’t really loved Philip. She had. What she felt for Cole was different because
she
was different. She’d gone through hell and she’d come out stronger on the other side. There were shadows in her eyes and lines on her face because she’d changed. Her needs and desires had changed.

Philip was gone forever. She didn’t know if she had a future with Cole, but the thought of leaving him made fresh pain well up inside her, sharp and unbearable. That was why she couldn’t walk away. She refused to let fate deal her another losing hand. She couldn’t run and hide while Cole was in danger. She’d made that mistake with Philip. Fleeing had been her only choice during the robbery, so she tried not to beat herself up about it too much. It wasn’t her only choice now.

She would stand by Cole, even if it meant getting arrested. She wouldn’t let Damon throw him to the wolves.

When it was time for their date, she donned the leather corset she’d bought on a whim. It was strapless, with bustier cups and a zip-up front. Lattice ties on both sides of her waist gave the garment an adjustable fit. The corset made her feel like an outlaw. Shank’s property. But it also had a calming effect on her nerves, as if she could control her galloping pulse and runaway nerves by cinching herself in tight leather.

She pulled on a pair of skinny jeans with her flat-heeled boots. The outfit was a little too risqué for public, so she added a simple tweed vest from one of her work suits. It looked chic, with just a hint of sexy underneath.

She applied makeup with trembling hands. When she was ready, she tucked the listening device into her bodice, right up against her pounding heart. Then she popped a stick of cinnamon gum into her mouth. Earlier today, Mia had written him a tiny note on pink paper. It said “bug.” She’d used shipping tape to laminate the paper. Her plan was to hide the note in the gum and transfer it with a kiss.

Damon would be watching her, so she had to be careful. As soon as she kissed Cole, she’d tell him that her mother was sick and she couldn’t see a movie with him. If he spit out the note right away, her plan would fail. The laminated square was substantial enough that he’d be able to feel it. She prayed that he’d understand what she was doing and wait until he was somewhere private to read the message.

When the gum was soft, she hid the note inside it and put the tiny wad on her tongue. Grabbing her purse, she climbed into her car and drove to the Starplex. She parked in a different spot than usual and got out. She didn’t see Damon lurking around, or any unmarked police cars, but that didn’t mean they weren’t here. It was just after sunset. The day’s heat had eked away, leaving a balmy breeze that cooled her sweaty nape. She’d forgotten her jacket at home, but it was too late to go back.

Too late, too late, too late.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to quell her anxiety. She should have taken a Valium. She didn’t know how she was going to get through this. Cole was smart. He’d be aware of her nervousness at first glance.

Before she could regain her composure, he pulled into the parking lot with a low rumble, taking the space next to her car. He didn’t turn off the engine or say hello. He was wearing his regular uniform: white T-shirt, blue jeans, leather vest, motorcycle boots. Although she couldn’t read his expression, she sensed his turmoil. His eyes were covered by dark sunglasses and his mouth formed a tense line.

She was supposed to hug him and kiss him and tell him her mother was sick. But he didn’t get off the bike, and she faltered. “What’s wrong?”

He took off his helmet and passed it to her. “Get on.”

“I thought we were seeing a movie.”

“I changed my mind.”

Her blood pressure spiked. Leaving with him wasn’t part of the plan. Damon might pull them over before they got out of the parking lot. But what else could she do? The lie about her mother stuck in her throat, and the chewing gum lodged against her cheek.

Fuck it. She secured the helmet, warm from his head, and settled in behind him. He didn’t wait for her to get ready. He just stepped on the gas and took off, tearing across the parking lot. She held on tight, her purse still clutched under one arm. He was clearly agitated, his shoulder muscles bunched and his abdomen clenched. His driving was erratic. He weaved in and out of traffic and ignored the speed limit. If they had a tail, she didn’t see it.

Thankfully it was a short ride. He went to King’s Castle, entering the parking structure and riding all the way to the top level. When they arrived, he parked and cut the engine, lowering the kickstand. She climbed off the back, glancing around warily. There were no sirens, no squad cars. Maybe Damon had been bluffing.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” she asked, her heart racing.

He dismounted slowly, watching her. Behind the lenses of his glasses, his gaze seemed to zero in on her outfit. The leather cups of the corset were visible at the V of her vest. He didn’t comment on the fashion choice. Her mouth was dry, and she felt awkward with the gum tucked into her cheek, but his body language warned her not to get close.

He walked to the edge of the structure, leaning his elbows against the stucco railing that overlooked the casino. “My uncle is buying this place.”

She joined him at the railing and glanced over. It was a long way down.

“He offered me a job as head of security.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. I’m not right for the position.”

“Why not?”

“Because of my temper, and my tendency to piss off the wrong people. I don’t like the idea of being polite to someone based on how much money or power they have. The atmosphere would also be...chaotic. Nonstop sounds and voices and machines cashing out.”