Finn
“What the hell do you mean Hawk’s been arrested?” Finn Marks’s voice boomed across the pool hall. The slap of his cue hitting the table of velvet green echoed loud enough to make half the patrons jump. “How the fuck did he get arrested?”
The man standing in front of him was as tall as a mountain and as dark as the night. There was almost no difference between the pitch-black of his leather vest and his skin. “Just found out about it. Went by to ride with him to the meeting, but he ain’t home. His momma ran me off shouting that I was a bad influence.”
Finn would have laughed if he weren’t so pissed off. “Titan, you let a tiny woman run you off?”
Titan shrugged his massive shoulders. His vest strained under the movement, making the feral-looking tiger patch plastered to one shoulder dance. There were some guys who were naturally built, and some who took working out more seriously than their jobs or their women. Titan did both. He owned his own gym and used every piece of equipment in there at least twice a week. “She had a wine bottle. I didn’t feel like getting it thrown at me.”
“Wine bottles hurt like a son of a bitch,” another voice chimed in. This was from a skinny blond guy who had a perpetual baby face that would get carded for cigarettes even when he was eighty. “You ever notice how they don’t break in real life like they do in movies? I read somewhere one time that the movie people have to like, precut the bottle, so when they film a scene their pretty-faced actor isn’t just like slamming the bottle on the bar over and over again like a friggin’ idiot.”
“Speed,” Finn said, “you are just full of all kinds of helpful information.”
Speed gave a little laugh, high-pitched and wild. “Yeah, man, I get it. Shut up, Speed. Naw, man, it’s cool, it’s cool.”
“How long ago was he arrested?”
“According to our contact, he was brought in around two-thirty this morning.”
“For racing?” Finn snapped. “Shit.”
He knew the law, even if he didn’t bother to follow it most of the time. Three strikes, Oliver was out. Unless a miracle was happening somewhere in the justice system, that boy was screwed.
“All right, we wait until he makes bail, and then we ship him off.”
Titan and Speed exchanged a significant look. It was Titan who said, “Dude, that’s gonna be an issue.”
Finn thought it was a good thing he had slapped his cue stick down. There was a good chance he would have broken it over his knee. “Stop with this tight-lipped crap, boys. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Okay, man.” Speed sprang from one foot to the other. “So, it’s like this. We know Hawk’s family is like, really poor and all that, right? He’s been paying out to keep them all going. His dad needs a lot of meds, and his mom needs a lot of liquor. I mean, it’s not like he’s got great big savings put away for bail or anything. So, that’s like…his first problem. But see, his second one is that Judge Louis was sitting bench last night.”
A sympathetic wince mixed with curses and raised beers slithered through the pool hall. Judge Louis was known for being against anyone she thought was mixed up in gang activities, and motorcycle clubs were her favorite target, especially the Violent Spawn. Sure, Oliver wasn’t an actual member—he wasn’t even a prospect—but the club liked him, and he liked the club. It would be good enough for Judge Louis.
“What’s the bail?” Finn demanded, raking a tattooed hand through his pitch-black hair. Oliver, who had quickly been given the nickname of Hawk after hanging around with the club long enough, liked to haul off and make a mess of his life.
“A lot,” Titan said.
“When does Boss Man get back?” Finn moved behind the small bar. An older man with more muscles than hair stepped aside. The patch across his chest was labeled “Prospect.” His real name was Manny; he hadn’t earned a nickname yet. Finn’s was Lieutenant; he had earned a nickname, but it rarely got used. “Next Friday?”
“Yes, sir, Lieutenant,” the older man said, picking up a bar towel and washing down the immaculate bar top. “He checked in last night.”
“All right.” Finn dragged a hand over his five-o’clock shadow and shook his head. He stated the plan out loud. “Boss is on radio silence until the end of the night when he checks in. So, it’s up to me, and I say we are going to use funds to break Oliver out on bail.”
He reached beneath the bar and knelt before a small safe. It was roughly the size of a mini-fridge but could probably withstand a nuclear blast. A small panel boasted a keypad. He put in the code and heard the telltale click of it unlocking. Nested inside were stacks of cash.
“What do you need from us?”
Finn pulled out one of the stacks and shoved it into his side pocket. If that wasn’t enough, Oliver was going to be out of luck. “I need you to find out who ratted on our man. There were no cops there last night, and Hawk isn’t stupid enough to race where the cameras are. Find out what happened.”
“Yes, sir.”
Finn headed out of the pool hall and into the cool night. It wasn’t exactly protocol to spend this kind of money on a younger member of the club, but Finn had a soft spot where Oliver was concerned. The kid had spirit, and a good head on his shoulders most of the time. Yeah, every now and then his bad habits would get him into trouble, but what was life without a little trouble? The kid came from a crap home with crap parents. He had earned getting into a little trouble.
He swung one leg over his Harley Sportster and felt the familiar shift of the bike beneath him as he plopped himself in the seat. The key was already in the On position. It wasn’t like anyone would dare to steal his baby. He pulled the choke all the way out and hit the button that would bring the engine to life.
The trip to the Carson jailhouse took all of twenty minutes. To be fair, it didn’t take very long to get anywhere in Carson, Nevada. The splotch on the map had started off as a boomtown that quickly got overlooked as people kept heading on west. The main street that cut the town into two equal halves was framed in buildings that would have looked right at home in a cowboy flick. At seven thirty at night, most shops were closing up and everyone who was out was doing their best to ignore the sound of the engine as he blasted past.
A bright sliver of the moon hung in the sky. Finn gave it a wink as he tilted his body to take a left past The Hobby Box and past Main Street Library. Tucked next to that was the jailhouse, which was little more than a brick building one story high and fifty feet deep. Finn knew by way of firsthand experience that there were four jail cells in there. The town didn’t even have its own judge. They had to share Louis with Tonopah County, which must have made setting that bail for Oliver a hassle.
Finn pulled his bike into place next to a sleek-looking BMW. It had Nevada plates but an out-of-towner look. There weren’t a lot of people in Carson who could afford a pretty car like that. He gave it an appreciative glance before heading into the station.
There wasn’t a whole lot to the building. A row of old seats was set to one side, and a water cooler was set to the other. A television as old as Finn was tucked into a corner, currently set to an old comedy show. The picture was hazy, and it flickered when the door slapped shut behind him.
A lone officer was on duty, and he was currently occupied, arguing with a curvy blonde who matched the car outside. She wasn’t tall, but she had that kind of ‘better-than-you’ presence that took up space. The business suit she was sporting had all the lines of professionalism, but the body underneath begged to be undressed.
He worked his eyes from her sleek legs, made sleeker by the icepick heels she’d shoved her feet into, and all the way up to her face. It was a damn good face, framed by hair that was somewhere between red and brown. It would have been a shame if the face hadn’t matched the body. It had that round shape that made a person look a few years younger than they really were, with a set of lips that just begged to have her lipstick ruined. It wasn’t until he got to the eyes, a smoky, misty color that was neither green nor blue, that he saw the resemblance.
Those were Oliver’s eyes. Wait, didn’t Hawk have a big sister? Finn vaguely remembered the kid calling her the “kind of bitch you wanted on your side.” With the way she was glaring down at the deputy at the desk, Finn was inclined to agree with Oliver’s assessment. He decided to take a seat in one of the chairs. It creaked in protestation.
“He’s sixteen,” she was saying. She had that rich kind of voice that would have been right at home on late-night radio or those old hotlines that came with numbers like 1-800-BUSTY. “He cannot be charged as an adult for these crimes.”
“Ma’am, that’s not really—”
“He’s a child.”
“He committed a crime.” This was not the deputy talking. Sheriff Moony stepped out of his office and firmly closed the door behind him to take up a place at the deputy’s side. The meaning of the movement was not lost on Finn. He doubted it was lost on the classy lady either. Finn knew the sheriff well enough to know he didn’t like to be talked down to.
“According to what?” she demanded. “He could not have been caught in the act, since your overzealous officers had to break into my parents’ house to arrest a sixteen-year-old boy.”
“This is not the first time that he has been caught speeding.”
“That was not my question,” she snapped, straightening her shoulders until she stood taller than Finn would have thought possible. “What is your evidence against my brother?”
“He was picked out by a witness.”
Her lips formed into a thin line. Oh, she didn’t like that at all. “A witness picked out my brother when he was breaking the law on a bike? That better be a damn good witness.”
“I assure you they are trustworthy. But if you want to act on your brother’s behalf—”
“Damn right I do. This bail is ridiculous.” She slapped a manicured hand on the paperwork in front of her. “Twenty thousand dollars for speeding? Funny, I remember the max you could hold a child for that particular offense was three thousand.”
“You’d know,” the deputy behind the desk muttered.
“I beg your pardon?” the woman demanded as the sheriff shot his deputy a look that would have frozen a rampaging bull. It was a good look for a leader to have, even if that leader belonged to a group as pointless as the local sheriff’s department.
“The judge believed your brother was a flight risk due to his…friends.” The sheriff was doubly careful with his words. Finn was pretty sure he knew why.
“Friends?” she asked. “What friends?”
“I think he means me,” Finn supplied.
Moony’s eyes flicked in Finn’s direction. The biker chose that moment to sit back in his chair hard enough to make it squeak all over again. The woman’s head whipped in his direction, making her short hair fan in all the shades of sunset, and the full power of her gaze bore down on him. A weaker man might have been intimidated, but Finn kind of liked it. He gave her a big grin and blew a kiss in her general direction.
The deputy laughed, but she didn’t.
“Who are you?” The tone of her voice insinuated that she made a lot of demands.
Finn swung himself into a standing position. At six foot three, he towered over everyone here. He watched the woman eye him with the grim determination of someone who was looking to find a flaw. His pitch-dark hair was slung into a braid and ran nearly the length of his back. His skin had that vague olive complexion that came from mixing races. In his case a good deal of Shoshoni Indian and Dutch. He liked to think he got the best of both worlds.
“I’m Finn Marks. I’m one of your brother’s friends.”
She settled a prim hand on the wide roundness of her hip. Her fingers looked especially pale against the dark fabric of her suit. “How old are you?”
He bristled just a little. There was something about the way she said it, like the answer was a sin and she already knew it. “I’ll be thirty-two in—”
“Then you are far too old to be my brother’s friend.” She turned her back on him in a clear dismissal.
Finn liked women and, more often than not, women liked him. He was the big bad boy they could sow their wild oats with, and he was willing to let them. He wasn’t used to getting dismissed. “I’m here to bail out your brother.” Finn took a single step forward, closing the distance between them by half. He tucked his thumbs in the loops of his belt and stood up tall enough that the orange-and-black tiger patch on his vest seemed to dance. He jerked his chin up and let his face settle into unamused blankness. It was a move that had cowed even the rowdiest of drunk bikers.
“I’ve already done that,” she said coolly, not even bothering to look at him again. “Your assistance isn’t required. Thank you. Have a nice day.”
“Ma’am,” the sheriff cut in before Finn could answer, “I feel like I need to explain to you that if your brother doesn’t show up for his court day, you will be forced to pay the entirety of the bail. I would hate to see a good woman like yourself lose a lot of money because her brother decided to do something…foolish.”
“My brother will be staying with me,” the woman explained. “I will be taking him back to Baldwin and see that he comes back for trial.”
There was a slight pause as everyone looked at one another. “Ma’am, Baldwin is across the California border.”
Finn could see her desire to curse like an icy fire in her misty gray eyes. She didn’t. Finn wasn’t sure if that amused him or not. He sat and watched her try to pull herself together. She clearly didn’t like the rules being thrown at her.
“I am assuming he is not allowed to cross the border, even with me?”
The sheriff shook his head. “I’d be willing to let the rules slide if this had been his first offense, or maybe even his second. But this is his third, and we have got to take it seriously.”
“I have to work.” She said work with the same reverent enthusiasm that some people talked about going to church. Rose pink colored her cheeks as she opened her arms wide in justification. “I will bring him back.”
“I can take him,” Finn offered. “I’ll make sure he gets to his trial.”
She did turn around now. Her chin was lifted defiantly. He wondered when the last time a woman had given him that particular look, if ever. It wasn’t the personally disgusted gaze of soccer moms who saw him riding around, or even the lustful looks of the ladies who wanted to get a little naughty. It was a look that said, “You are the fly I want to swat.” He was equal parts impressed and annoyed.
“Finn, right?” she asked. She didn’t actually wait for an answer before she continued. “Listen, Finn. I don’t know how involved you are in my brother’s life. I don’t know if you are one of those creepy guys who hangs around with high school kids because you can’t get friends your own age, or if you think you are somehow helping my brother become a better person with your…influence. Either way, it stops right now.”
Finn was no longer impressed. He was annoyed and heading quickly into pissed off. His hands clenched at his sides, and he felt his own face getting warm with anger. “Listen, you—”
She held up a single hand, neatly cutting him off. “No, thank you.”
Was this woman for real? Was she just that confident in herself, or was she just oblivious? Maybe she was both. Yeah, Finn thought, she has to be both in order to treat me like that. He was a lieutenant in the Violent Spawn motorcycle club, not just some weirdo off the streets. He had earned exactly where he was. “Man, your brother is right about you. You really are a ball-busting bitch.”
She shrugged one shoulder and turned back to the paperwork. Her hand was steady as she scrawled her elegant signature across the highlighted line at the bottom of the page and shoved the forms back at the officers, who looked equally stunned.
“I’d like to get my brother now. We will find lodgings somewhere here in town so he doesn’t leave.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the deputy said, surging up from his seat to wrangle up Oliver.
She turned just enough to give Finn a sidelong glance. “Are you still here?”
What bothered Finn most was that she wasn’t ugly. Normally when a woman was full of that much contempt her face would get all twisted up and she would look like a crazed witch when she snarled at a man. This woman didn’t. She kept her cool and just brushed him off with all the emotion of picking a piece of lint off her thousand-dollar suit.
Had she been pulling this with someone else, anyone else, he would have admired her. Hell, he would have paid all the money in his pocket to see her swing that icy demeanor on the sheriff, or any one of the uptight forty-hour-a-week drones who were so proud of themselves. Shit, she probably was one of those drones. And he still wanted to kiss her senseless.
Maybe that’s what she needed. A really good kiss. Make all that pretty plum lipstick she was wearing get all messed-up. Yeah, he decided, that’s why she was all uptight. She needed a little love. Finn was willing if she was.
“Listen, Miss…is it Miss or Mrs.?” he asked. Not that it mattered. There had been plenty of lawfully wedded ladies who had wanted to jump on him for a dirty thrill.
“Ms.,” she amended. “Ms. Anderson.”
Well, it was her brother’s last name, too, so he was going to assume she wasn’t married. “Ms. Anderson, I’m sorry. I think I’ve given you the wrong impression. It’s been a long night, and I wasn’t at my best when I came in here. I care about Oliver. He’s a good kid with a brash temper, and he tends to do things before he thinks them out. I came down here to help, but you’ve clearly got it under control.” He dropped his voice just a little and took another step forward. “I respect that in a woman.”
He gave her his most charming smile. It had worked on plenty of ladies—why not her, too? He looked down into her eyes, picking out flecks of golden brown among that misty green. For a moment, just a moment, he saw something flicker behind them before they went flat and empty.
“Oh good,” she said snidely. “My life is complete because I have your respect.”
The door opened and the deputy walked Oliver out. He looked tired, but no less worse for wear. His baggy black hoodie was an effort to hide the skinny, underdeveloped shape of his chest. Finn had done the same when he had been a kid, before he filled out. Oliver looked up at Finn and smiled, and then his eyes flicked over to his sister and all the color drained from his face. “Cora?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”
Her cool flat gaze zeroed in on Oliver. Finn was pretty sure the kid winced. He couldn’t blame him.
“I am here because of you,” she said, swinging her purse over her shoulder. “You are going to be staying with me until your trial.”
“I am? Are we going to California?”
“No,” she answered. “We are going to find a place to stay in town. We will stop by the house to let Mom and Dad know what is going on and what the terms of your release are. Then you are going to pack up what you need for the next couple of weeks.”
“Then why is Finn here?”
“That,” she hissed, “is an excellent question.”
She put her hand on Oliver’s shoulder and steered him out of the jailhouse. She didn’t look at Finn; she didn’t even give Oliver a chance to do any more than wave sheepishly before she escorted him to that sleek car. Finn heard the purr of the engine before she screeched out of the parking lot.