Raw and Dirty(18)

“How are things going with the Alpha Wolves?” my dad asks, pausing in his self-important rant long enough to gaze across the table at me, a fork in one hand and a smile on his lips. His hair is dark and perfect, not a hint of gray or white to be seen. I think he dyes it, but if I ever asked, he'd deny it.

I set my wineglass down and lift my napkin to my lips, dabbing at a pretend drop of liquid.

Well, Dad, I fucked the sexy British president of the MC in one of the club dorm rooms today. That was nice. Oh, but right before that, I got in a fight with one of his … groupies. I think I held my own in the fight though.

“Royal McBride is a difficult man to pin down,” I say with a self-deprecating smile. “He blew off our last meeting, but we have another scheduled for Friday. I have our proposals written up and ready to go; all he needs to do is sign them and we can schedule the photo op.”

My dad's gotten it into his head that a picture of his staff with a few choice members of the Alpha Wolves would make a great front page piece for the paper.

Local Government Takes Down Organized Crime Ring With Careful Bureaucracy.

Oh God. The day that Royal lets the press print something like that is the day that pigs fly. I don't even know the guy, but one look at him and I knew that he wasn't about to roll over for the mayor's office.

My dad nods briskly, dismissing me just like that. It should hurt that he doesn't care more, that he doesn't want to know more about me and what I do, but I've long since outgrown that. If it doesn't involve work or parties or what the neighbors think, then Philip Rentz isn't interested.

“Wonderful. You keep working your charm on those bikers, Lyric, and get the job done.”

“I always do,” I say, but my stomach's dropping faster than a stone in water. I have a meeting with Royal on Friday. And I just had sex with him. If I close my eyes, I can still feel his fingers on my chin, his body buried deep inside of mine. The whole encounter's a bit of a blur if I'm being honest with myself, but the feelings are there, the scorch of his flesh across mine. I feel like I've been burned.

A waiter sets a plate of food in front of me, but I'm not hungry.

Not for steak and salad and a twice baked potato.

I'm hungry for Royal McBride, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do about that.



My house is dark when I get home, the only one on the block without a porch light on. It burned out weeks ago, but I've been too busy with work to bother with it.

After Toni left the office and moved back to Eureka, I was left with a mess of paperwork to sort through and a puzzle to try and figure out. How, exactly, does the mayor's office get an outlaw biker club to agree to anything? Money helps, but they already have plenty of that. Grabbing them a get out of jail free card from the feds? Helping them avoid a RICO—Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations—case … priceless. A lot of big words, sure, but it all comes down to one thing: that RICO acronym there, it lets the government charge and convict the leaders in a criminal organization, whether or not they're actually the ones who got their hands dirty. Money laundering, obstruction of justice, even murder.

I never would've had that carrot to dangle if I hadn't done what I did.

Philip Rentz doesn't care about the feds, doesn't have any political ambitions past the mayoral elections.

But I do.

A chill travels down my spine as I open my driver's side door and climb out, scanning the street around me for a moment before I slam it closed behind me. A quick push on my key fob locks the doors of my black Chrysler, and I head towards the front steps, pausing when I feel a little tickle on the back of my neck.

When I glance over my shoulder, there's no one behind me, but the feeling of being watched doesn't go away, not when I put my key in the lock, step inside and close it just as quickly.

I flick the deadbolt and the chain back into place and peek out the purple curtains that line my front window, but there's nothing and nobody there. I'm just being paranoid.

With a sigh, I toss my purse onto the coffee table behind me, running my hands down the front of my plain black dress, the one I always wear out with my family. Well, okay, so I have four or five different versions of it in my closet, but they're all so similar, they might as well be the same dress.

I looked so ridiculous in Kailey's dress. Hell, even calling it a dress is being generous. There was hardly any fabric there.

But Royal made me feel … not quite so silly in it.

He made me feel sexy as hell.

I slump down on the couch and run my hands over my face. I can't even believe that I slapped him. At the time, it seemed like just about the only thing I could do. Besides, he deserved it, didn't he? He led me upstairs and into that room with an agenda in mind—and I let him do it.