Angel had her arms circled around Dax’s waist and she clutched onto the sides of his kutte, white-knuckling it like her life depended on it, which it might. He had the throttle of the Harley wide open and was dropping the bike so low to the ground as they took the curves that she could kiss the pavement if she were so inclined. That phone call had caused first a look of panic on his face, and then rage. He hadn’t told her much other than that they had to go. She’d been excited at first; this might be a big break for her…but as they flew down the highway at a hundred miles per hour, she wasn’t sure that she’d live to reap the rewards.

They had been on the road for about an hour when she heard the rumble of a pack of motorcycles approaching behind them. They were on a rural road and had just crossed back over into Massachusetts. Dax had been too busy riding to text or call anyone so she wondered how the bikers had found them. She expected Dax to slow down when he looked into the rearview mirror and saw them, but instead, even though she didn’t think it was possible, he opened up the throttle wider and the bike felt like it had grown wings. That was bad enough, on the country road, but when he made a sudden turn onto the old rural highway and she saw that there was actual traffic, she thought she just might have a heart attack.

She clutched on tighter as he maneuvered the bike in between the lanes of cars and semi-trucks and trailers, weaving in and out between them with a skill that might have been impressive if she’d not been trapped on the back of the bike. His tires were smoking and the fumes from the burning rubber and the diesel exhaust threatened to choke her. She tried not to breathe it in for fear of asphyxiating and falling off the bike. The sounds of the Harleys behind them sounded closer but at that point she was too afraid to turn around and look. She wished once again that she had her gun. She could at least take out a few of their tires and slow them down.

She pulled her body up as tall as she could and put her mouth as close to Dax’s ear as it would go. “Gun?”

“What?” he yelled.

“Do you have a gun?” He hesitated and she thought he didn’t hear her again. She took in a breath that was probably filled with dead bugs and started to ask him again when he yelled:

“Right saddlebag!”

She said a silent prayer before letting go of him with her right hand. She reached down under her right thigh and began unzipping the saddle bag, stopping to grab him and hold on with two hands again a few times and then going back to it. When it was finally all the way open, she slid her hand around inside until she felt the cool steel barrel of a handgun. She held it tightly against her thigh as she slid it up. Using her thumb to slide off the safety catch she yelled, “Loaded?”

“Yes.”

Another prayer that her left hand wouldn’t give out and let her go flying off the bike, and she turned and aimed the gun at the closest bike to them. It was about three feet behind and to the right of them. A big biker with a dirty gray beard and a large belly was driving it. He must have seen the gun, because he immediately began to slow down and try to move left. Angel pulled the trigger just as the bike started changing lanes. She hit the front tire and in an explosion of dust, tar, and rubber, it fell apart. The bike skidded sideways, taking out two more of the bikers in rapid succession and leaving one on his side on the pavement and the other two off to the side in the dirt. She could see about five more bikes coming up on them and she realized that the one in front had a gun of his own. She didn’t bother trying to aim for his tires. She aimed for the arm holding the gun. She pulled the trigger and hit something just as the bullet he fired bounced off the semi-truck in the lane next to them. The biker lost control and the bike went down on top of him as they both skidded across the hot pavement. The other four bikers were slowly dropping back, and by the time Dax took the next exit off the highway, they were no longer on their tail.

Angel tucked the gun into the pocket of her jacket and resumed her two-handed hold until Dax finally pulled the bike off the road and into a parking lot. The lot faced a big, old, rusty steel warehouse and there were police and sheriff’s cars surrounding it. He turned off the bike and Angel got off. She had to clutch onto his shoulder to keep from falling as she pulled off the helmet. The sight of the police made her stomach flutter more than it already was. What if someone that doesn’t know I’m undercover recognizes me? Her attention was temporarily diverted when she realized that Dax was grinning at her.

“You’re smiling?”

“You’re fucking amazing.”

“Who was I shooting at?”

Dax glanced up toward the warehouse. “Can we talk about it later?”

She sighed. “Okay.” Dax startled her then by grabbing her around the waist and pulling her up tightly against him. His mouth was covering hers so quickly that had she wanted to protest, she wouldn’t have had time. Once his tongue pressed against her lips, all hope was lost. She let them fall open and for the next several seconds she forgot what was and had been going on around them. That was until she heard a vehicle driving up and opened her eyes in time to see her brother’s face in the window of a white van rolling slowly by. Fuck. She pushed back, and she and Dax looked into each other’s eyes while they panted to catch their breath. When she could speak, she said in a shaky voice:

“Do you know what’s going on over there?”

He glanced at the warehouse again then and with a grim expression he said, “We were robbed…and they shot Beezy.”

“Oh no! Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I guess we better go find out.” He put his hand out to her. She almost didn’t take it. If Kyle was here, Micah probably was too. She’d have to explain…but something about his outstretched hand was irresistible to her, so she took it. Holding onto him seemed to quell the anxiety inside of her and calm down her quivering muscles. She concentrated on slowing down her breathing as they approached the warehouse. The white van was parked in front of it now, alongside the sheriff’s car. There were two sheriffs posted outside the door, which was roped off with crime scene tape. One of them looked at her strangely. He looked vaguely familiar and it dawned on her that she’d attended the police academy with him. When that realization dawned, she did her best to convey to him with her eyes that her life was at that moment in his hands.

“I’m Dax Marshall,” Dax said, addressing the sheriff deputy on the left.

“And?”

“Those are my…friends in there. This is my warehouse.”

“Oh, this is yours?” the sheriff deputy asked in a dry tone.

“Yes. What happened?”

He snorted then. Angel noticed his right hand was covering his gun. He hadn’t pulled it out yet, but he looked ready. “You don’t know?”

She felt Dax’s muscles tense as he gripped her hand tighter. The other deputy was looking from their joined hands to her face. She wondered if he was trying to figure out if she was undercover or if she’d just gone over to the dark side. “I got a phone call that said one of my guys was shot and the shipment of fertilizer we received today had been stolen.”

“Fertilizer?”

“Yes, fertilizer for the farm we run.”

The sheriff deputy chuckled and Dax’s hand actually crushed down on hers. She could feel that he was using everything in him to keep from punching the cop in the face. “Is there someone we can talk to…someone higher up?” Angel asked him. The cop’s blue eyes were suddenly on her face and they were as cold as ice. It was the first time in her life that she’d experienced being on the other side, feeling like no more than a piece of dirt on the cop’s boots. She stood up a little taller as he looked at her coldly; she said, “I’m sure the detectives working the case would prefer to talk to Mr. Marshall now as opposed to later.”

“I’ll get them,” the other deputy said. Angel glanced at Dax. He was looking at her with that look of awe once more in his eyes.

A few minutes passed, and the door the deputy had gone into opened and the first thing Angel saw was Micah. Thankfully by that time Dax had let go of her hand so that they could both take a seat on a cement riser. Angel had never had the opportunity to see Micah in action. He wasn’t in his normal suit and tie today. He was wearing jeans and a black jacket that said “GTF” in yellow embroidery on the front. She knew that on the back it said “Gang Task Force.” Micah glanced at her and then Dax like he didn’t recognize either one of them, and he and another detective strolled toward them.

Dax stood up and Angel did too. She was trying to be as cool as Micah, but she wasn’t sure that she was pulling it off. “Mr. Marshall?” Micah asked.

“Yes, Dax Marshall. What’s going on?”

Micah looked at her then and said, “And you are?”

“Angela Gonzalez.”

Dax reached for her hand and it was then that she saw Micah flinch. It was almost imperceptible, however, and he recovered quickly. “She’s with me,” Dax said.

Micah nodded slightly and said, “I’m Detective Ivanov and this is Detective Moore. Can you tell us what you know about what happened here today?”

“Well, I wasn’t here. I was in Mystic when I got the call. I was told that one of my men had been shot and our fertilizer shipment stolen.”

Micah cocked an eyebrow. “Fertilizer?”

“Yes. Fertilizer. I’m not sure why that surprises everyone.”

Micah looked at his partner and then back to Dax. “You’re the president of the Skulls.”

“Yes.”

“Who was sending the shipment?”

“A company out of Boston called Slates.”

“How much fertilizer were you expecting?”

“We only order it once a year, so it’s a lot…We order the max that the law allows.”

Micah’s lips twitched. “Right, because you’re hard-core farmers…”

“Listen.” Dax took a step toward Micah, who stood his ground and puffed out his chest. Angel almost rolled her eyes. She could practically smell the testosterone, and it was nauseating. “I was told that one of my friends was shot. I’d like to know how he is and where he is. I’d also like to see the rest of my friends and make sure that they’re okay. You might have forgotten, but we were the fucking victims here.”

“Are you done?” Micah asked him with a raised eyebrow. Angel saw movement again at the warehouse door and looked up. It was her father.

“Detective Ivanov?”

Micah kept his eyes on Dax’s face. “Yes?”

“Please send Mr. Marshall inside.”

Dax smirked at Micah, who looked like he wanted to kill him right then and there with his bare hands. As Dax stepped around him, still tightly clutching Angel’s hand, she caught Micah’s eyes for the first time. They softened a bit for her but that look of rage was still floating there, just beneath the surface. Why do men have to make things so complicated? She was only doing her job. Wasn’t she?