“Thanks,” Nick said. “Marz said Ike helped you.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy said, nodding. “Wanted to know if I was starting a harem. I just told him I wanted to rent the apartment furnished when it was done. He was cool.”
“Okay,” Becca said, tugging at the hem of Jer’s shirt. “What’s this one say?” I put the long in schlong. “Omigod, Jeremy.” Everyone chuckled as Becca’s face pinked.
Nick put his arm around her. “It’s not his fault. My parents dropped him on his head when he was a baby.”
Jeremy took a long pull from his mug. “Becca, you know you’re way too sweet to be with my asshole brother, right?”
She shook her head. “Don’t put me in the middle, you two.” She grinned at Jer. “I have enough batter for a few more pancakes if you want some.”
“Nah, I ate cereal earlier. Gotta watch my girlish figure.”
Marz braced his hands on the counter. “Hey, Jer, I’ve been meaning to ask. What can you tell me about Ike and his motorcycle club?” Shane had been wondering this since that first day he’d admired Ike’s bike.
“Why?” Jeremy asked.
“Can I be straight with you?” Marz asked.
“Of course,” Jeremy said, frowning. “What’s up?”
“There are social clubs and outlaw clubs, right?” Marz said. “Most of the OMCs started in the sixties, real anti-establishment types. Most of them provide their members a livelihood via some criminal activity—drugs, guns, prostitution, gambling, you name it.” Shane’s gut sank at the description. Man, the last thing they needed was a fight on another front.
Jeremy nodded, his expression darkening, like he knew where Marz was going with this.
“The Raven Riders are in the Maryland gang report Becca’s friend gave us last week, Jer. They’re outlaws. So I need to know if he represents a liability or a threat in our own house, so to speak. Hell, for all we know, the Riders could be in bed with Church.” Marz looked from Jeremy to Nick and back again.
Damn, wouldn’t that be a gagglefuck?
Jeremy crossed his arms. “Ike’s as good as they come. I’ve known him for seven years. Never brings any trouble to Hard Ink. And I’ve met some of his friends from the club, too. Seem like good guys.”
Nick nodded. “I agree.”
Marz shifted feet, like maybe his leg was bothering him. The guy was so competent on his prosthesis that you could almost forget he wore it. As Marz grimaced and shifted again, it occurred to Shane that maybe all wasn’t as copasetic in Marz’s world as it seemed. The thought sank through his gut. “They may be, Jer. I’m not questioning that. Just saying we have to be hyperaware of who knows about us.”
“Okay,” Jeremy said. “That’s fair.”
“In fact, let’s take a look-see right now,” Marz said, pulling his iPhone from his pocket. After a minute, he said, “Looks like the Raven Riders are associated with the Green Valley Speedway west of the city?”
Jeremy peered down at the screen. “Yeah. The main club’s out there. I’ve been to a few stock car races. They also have drag racing and motocross.”
“The Raven Riders own a speedway?” Shane asked. That was big business. Question was, what were the activities that had landed them in that gang report?
“It’s cool,” Jeremy said, nodding.
“So, if the club’s twenty miles from here, what does Ike do in the city?” Marz asked, still scrolling through the page on his phone.
Jeremy shrugged. “I don’t know, man. He works for me. Told you, his club business doesn’t interfere here. But, I get it, look into them more if you like, just keep it discreet for Ike’s sake.”
“Can do,” Marz said, nodding. Shane was glad Jeremy and Nick had no reservations about the guy, but he couldn’t help agreeing with Marz that, right now, they couldn’t be cautious enough.
For the next thirty minutes, they hashed out what they did and didn’t know. And damn if that list wasn’t lopsided as hell—and not in their favor. One thing they did know was that there was going to be another delivery tomorrow night. So once again they were in need of the when and where, which put Marz back on surveillance duty for the next twelve to twenty-four.
“Maybe Crystal could be useful with the details again?” Marz suggested, looking at Shane.
Aw, hell. How was he going to learn what she might know when the last time he saw her, she’d run away from him? But he owed his teammates—the ones standing around him and the ones cold in the ground—his best effort. “I’d be willing to ask what she’s heard.”
“Good. Because shy of that—”
The muffled ring of a cell phone sounded out.
“That’s me,” Shane said, fishing the cell from his pocket. Relief and excitement shot through him, at once easing the tension in his shoulders and spiking his heart rate. “Speaking of . . . it’s Crystal.” Three minutes and a short, awkward conversation later, Shane had the answer to his question. “I’m meeting her in thirty,” he said.
Shane couldn’t help but pin a lot of hope on this meeting. Hope that he could ensure her safety by convincing her to stay with him at Hard Ink. Hope that he could assist their mission by learning about the second delivery. Hope that that delivery would provide more answers to help them right the wrongs they’d all suffered.
And, goddamnit all, they were overdue for a little sunshine and good luck.
Chapter 18
Crystal stood outside the coffee shop tucked into the corner of the strip mall and hugged herself. Despite never coming all the way down to the blue-collar burbs of Brooklyn Park and standing halfway behind a cement column supporting the overhanging awning, she felt exposed and vulnerable. But that was probably just because she was taking charge of her life—for once—and doing something way outside her comfort zone.
Asking for help. From Shane McCallan.
Looking up at the cloudy morning sky, Crystal forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down.
She was okay. Jenna was okay. Everything was okay.
Crystal pulled the phone Shane gave her from her purse to check the time. She’d never carried it on her before, but since they were meeting, she wanted him to be able to reach her if something came up or he was running late, which he wasn’t. Yet. She sighed and dropped it back into her bag for the third time in as many minutes.
A big black pickup pulled into the parking lot and made its way to the back corner. Shane. Relief and excitement flooded through Crystal as she stepped out of the shadows and watched the truck park in the second row. Through the windshield, she saw Shane smile and wave.
She couldn’t help but return the gestures. Smoothing her hands over the floral top she’d worn, another of her own creations, she felt feminine and even a little pretty. It had taken her four changes to figure out what to wear to see him. Stupid that she’d put so much thought into it. It wasn’t like this was a date or anything.
As Shane threaded between the cars and crossed the lot, all Crystal could do was stare. At the determination in his sexy, powerful stride. At the way those jeans hung on his lean hips and came down around a pair of loosely tied brown boots. At the way the breadth of his shoulders pulled the slate blue button-down tight across his chest. Hands in his pockets, he gave her a crooked smile that made her belly flutter and her cheeks heat.
“Hey, darlin’,” he said as he stepped up onto the sidewalk.
“Hi,” she said.
The word was barely out of her mouth when Shane’s arms came around her back and he pulled her in tight. Without thinking about it, her arms went around him, too. He felt warm and strong and reassuring.