Barely Undercover: Legal Heat Book 2(95)
“You forget to tell me something? Maybe that I wasn’t the only rat in Hades?”
Silence.
James tried another tactic. “You’re gonna mix ex-military with Rex’s castoffs? How will that work? Oil and water, my friend.”
Ryder shook his head. “I’m giving them a chance to clean up their lives and make a difference. Everyone understands that any unauthorized illegal activity is a guaranteed dismissal. They get paid by the job and they don’t need to worry about the cops.” He raised an eyebrow and waggled the jacket. “Speaking of which…we could use someone with your skills.”
James stared at the jacket and mulled over the opportunity hanging from the tips of Ryder’s fingers. He wouldn’t have to give up his pursuit for justice. He could still clean up the streets, put the bad guys in jail and help people who, like him, had been screwed by the system.
And if he didn’t accept Ryder’s offer, what then? He hadn’t done anything worthy of serious discipline. Likely he would get a slap on the wrist and a yearlong posting in the frozen North. And then he could go back. Rejoin the homicide team. Return to his high-stress life of rules and order, time clocks and traffic jams. Back to a diet of coffee and donuts. Maybe the occasional night with Lana.
But if he put on the jacket, he would be crossing a line, and there would be no going back to proper law enforcement. His time would be his own. He could live free. Ride free. See Lana whenever, however and wherever he wanted.
He had wasted time considering the other option.
“Fucking embarrassing having a jacket with no patch.” James took the jacket from Ryder’s outstretched hand. “And a club with no name.” He shrugged on the jacket and settled it on his shoulders.
“Perfect fit.” Ryder slapped him on the shoulder. “And you can take Cuss’s bike. He’ll stay here and arrange to get your vehicles back to Vancouver.”
“What’s he riding?”
“Your V-Rod. He misappropriated it from Hades’s lot at my instruction. I thought you might need another set of wheels. Lucky for you, I managed to find a key.”
“I’m sure you did,” James muttered. “Theft and more theft. I can see we’re off to a good start.”
A grin split Ryder’s face. “Welcome to the beginning of life in the gray zone. We’re the rogues of the street.”
“Rogue riders.”
Ryder gave James a considered look. “Good name for the club.”
“So we got a name?”
“We got a name. Now let’s go get your girl.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Move it, Roxie.”
Levi shoved Lana into the drab motel room and slammed the door behind him, cutting her off from the comforting hum of traffic and the hushed murmur of voices.
Lana trembled as she turned to face Levi, her heart aching from thudding a warning she had not heeded.
For the longest time they stared at each other.
Although his face was painfully familiar, his gray eyes glittered with a cold, feverish light so unlike the warmth that had drawn her to a young, ambitious biker ten years ago. But that Levi was gone and the sooner she came to terms with it, the closer she would be to finding a way forward.
“Crazy little bitch.” He backhanded her, sending her tumbling to the floor with the force of his blow.
“I’ve been dreaming of this moment since the day you ran out. You fucking humiliated me. Not only did I take flack for not being able to control my own wife, I lost respect. I was kicked out of Fang’s inner circle. I almost lost my fucking patch.” He kicked her side and then his foot came down on her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs.
Dazed, breathless, Lana fought blindly, legs and fists flailing. She made contact with something, and he swore, then pressed his weight into her rib cage.
Too hard.
Her lungs burned. The edges of her vision faded to black. Her limbs dropped heavily to the floor, and she concentrated her energy on sucking air into her chest.
And then he released her. Sweet, clean air filled her lungs in a rush, and she curled up on the floor, coughing and choking.
“I’ve spent a long time cleaning up your messes,” he snarled. “And I’m fucking tired of it. After I was forced to apologize to the brothers, I hunted Scooter down. Didn’t take much to make him scream. He bought his way into the Wolverines, but he didn’t take time to learn the rules.”
“Oh God.” Lana’s heart stuttered. Scooter had joined the club as a prospect only a few months before she escaped. A trust-fund baby wanting to rebel, he couldn’t handle the violence and especially not the abuse dished out to the clubhouse slave. Underestimating their newest recruit because of his slight frame and gentle manner, the Wolverines didn’t pay him much attention, keeping him around only to extort his monthly trust-fund payment. And then one day, without fanfare or warning, he wrapped Lana in an old tarp, hid her in the hollowed-out backseat of his truck and drove away.