“What’s the diff?” Marz asked.
“MCs often engage in organized crime to support their members. They’re big businesses,” Beckett said, his blue eyes going frosty. Shane turned a hard stare at Nick. Beckett owned a private security firm in D.C. and was never easily ruffled, so the big guy’s concern was enough to fuel Shane’s own.
“Oh goody. The Church gang on wheels,” Marz said, echoing Shane’s thoughts.
“Yeah,” Nick said, nodding. “There are several here in the city. I encounter them every once in a while serving papers. Ike’s group is an MC, but he keeps his club business separate from his work at Hard Ink.”
Beckett braced his hands on his hips and glared at Nick. “And you didn’t think to mention this? Is Ike something we need to worry about? Because we need problems from another direction like Noah needed more rain.”
Nick shook his head, his expression and stance relaxed. “No. Ike’s a good guy. Loyal to Jeremy. I’ve known him for a while, and I’m telling you it’s not a problem—”
“All the same,” Marz said. “I’d like to run some checks on Ike and this club when we get back.” Beckett crossed his arms and nodded. Shane couldn’t have agreed more.
“Fair enough,” Nick said, opening the rear passenger door of Beckett’s SUV for Becca. Then he, Marz, Beckett, and Easy piled into the big beast, too. Shane was riding solo so he could make Crystal’s in time. As he backed out of his space, he gave the motorcycle a last look. Nick had better be right about Ike. Last thing they needed was a threat from within.
On the drive to the park, anticipation of seeing Crystal again had Shane’s pulse beating a little faster, a little harder. He was walking on a knife’s edge where she was concerned, between the team’s need to use her for information and his own growing interest in her well-being.
As a rule, Shane didn’t pursue women romantically just to get intel. A wink and a flirtatious smile. Sure. He excelled at that, and it was harmless. But even in the field, he’d refused to seriously lead a woman on as a means of gaining access to info. It crossed a line for him he couldn’t stomach, maybe because of what’d happened to Molly. Who the hell knew. If that made him a less effective soldier, it also made him a better person. He believed that to his core.
Shane thought through everything that’d happened since he’d met Crystal at Confessions. He was attracted, no question. He was intrigued, without a doubt. So, he was interested. Whether he could act on that interest was one big question, and whether his interest in her conflicted with the team’s agenda was another. And he didn’t yet know the answer to either.
Within fifteen minutes, they’d made it to Patterson Park, a dozen-blocks-long square of green in the middle of the neighborhood east of downtown where Becca lived. Shane wasn’t sure what she’d said to convince her friend to meet her here versus her house, or the hospital, or any of a dozen other places he suspected might’ve been less unusual, but since the guy had agreed, that was all that mattered.
Near the edge of the park closest to Becca’s house, the team took up positions around the Pagoda, a hundred-year-old tower inspired by Asian architecture that stood at the edge of a wide field.
Easy, Marz, and Beckett took cover farther away, providing a perimeter, and the rest of them waited on the steps of the building. Despite the sunny spring afternoon, they were largely alone. In the distance, a group of sun-worshippers lay on blankets and on a far sidewalk, someone jogged with a baby stroller, but otherwise they had the privacy they’d wanted for this conversation.
About five minutes later, a man walked up the sidewalk that led from the street to the Pagoda. Everything about his body language and demeanor was open and straightforward, and he smiled and waved as soon as he saw Becca.
She jogged down the steps, and Nick stuck to her like white on rice. “Hey, Murph,” she called. “Thanks for coming.”
“Becca. How you doing? How you feeling?” he said, coming up to her and giving her a hug.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Let me introduce you to some friends and explain why I asked you to come,” she said. “Murphy Jones, this is my boyfriend, Nick,” she said. “Nick, Murphy.”
Nick shook the guy’s hand, a serious, appraising look on his face. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming.”
Becca waved Shane closer. “And this is Shane, Nick’s best friend and a former Army medic.” As they exchanged greetings, Shane took stock of the man. Tall, thin, with short brown hair, probably late thirties. He made eye contact and was completely relaxed in his posture. Nothing about him seemed shifty or uncomfortable, leading Shane’s gut to side with Becca’s instincts that the man was probably trustworthy.
Remained to be seen how he would react to their requests, though. Because they were on the wrong side of crazy, especially if this guy happened to be a fan of strict adherence to rules.
Becca didn’t hold anything back. “I’m in trouble, Murphy. And so is my brother.”
The relaxed expression dropped from Murphy’s face. “What kind of trouble? Wait. Is this related to what happened to you in the ER last week?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It’s a very long and complicated story, but here’s what I can tell you. My father was an officer in the Army and died in Afghanistan last year.” Along with a lot of other, better men, Shane thought, anger stirring in his gut.
“I remember,” he said, frowning.
“He was apparently into something he shouldn’t have been, and, long story short, people are now after me and my brother Charlie because of it. Bad people.”
Murphy’s gaze bounced between the three of them, then returned to Becca. “Holy . . . shit. Why can’t you go to the—”
“Police? Because we have evidence that some of the police are in on it. And apparently at least somebody at the hospital, because the guy that tried to grab me had access, an ID, and knew when I was working.”
If the story she’d told so far didn’t chase this guy off, Shane was going to be impressed. Even summarized, it sounded nuttier than a squirrel turd at a peanut festival.
For a long moment, Murphy pressed his fingers to his mouth. “Okay. Jesus. Why did you want to see me, then? How do I fit into all of this?”
“I need to ask you the biggest, craziest favor.”
He blew out a breath like he was girding himself. “Okay, ask. We’ve known each other a long time now. If I can help, you know I will.”
Shane’s gaze made a three-sixty sweep around them. Everything was still quiet.
“I need you to examine my brother and help treat him.” She and Shane ran down the list of his injuries with a bare-bones explanation of how they’d happened. Murphy asked some questions that they took turns answering.
“Long story short, he needs surgical intervention,” Shane said, because the guy might as well know the whole of what they wanted from him. “We were hoping we could use your rig for what essentially amounts to field surgery.” As he spoke, Murphy’s face paled.
“Shit,” he said, his gaze dropping to the sidewalk. When he lifted his head again, his eyes were full of questions. “Why can’t you take him to another hospital?”
“Because his wounds are too suspicious,” Becca said. “And this situation is so dire I don’t honestly know who I can trust.” And those were just some of the reasons.
“But you trust me?” Murphy asked.
Becca smiled. “I do. But I know I’m asking a lot . . . probably too much. I just don’t know what else to do, and Charlie’s running out of options.” That was the damn truth. Worse, Charlie didn’t have the time for them to stand around and dissect this from every angle.
The guy crossed his arms and stared off across the field.
Shane made eye contact with Nick and saw reflected back at him the same pessimism Shane felt. Sympathetic as he seemed, Murphy’s questions and hesitation made his doubts clear. Not that Shane blamed him, but they didn’t have the time to try to convince him, either.