Chapter Five
Charlie
Why had I waited twenty-eight years to ride a motorcycle? My God, this was almost as good as sex. We whipped up 35 toward Oklahoma City. The speed of the bike beat a boat any day. The only downside was the wind but as long as I stayed behind Marcone’s back I didn’t get sliced by wind burn. I had no idea how he handled it without a helmet.
Bubbles formed inside me, making me feel lighter than I had in years. Maybe I should learn to ride because now that I had a taste, I wanted more. The sun created a haze of orange and purples on the horizon as it set. The scenery was more beautiful out in the open, and I’d fallen in love before we’d made it halfway. Power, freedom and speed combined into a trifecta of perfection.
We slowed and turned off at the Norman exit. I hadn’t even bothered to ask where the Logans were. All I knew was I wanted to be at the takedown. They wouldn’t stop unless we stopped them.
Marcone stopped down the street from a seedy bar. He parked his bike and climbed off.
“Why are we stopping?” I wanted to get the drop on them before they disappeared again.
He held up a finger and made a call.
“I want you by the line of cars. The goal is to get a bug on the car—take down if we can.” Marcone waited while someone spoke. “Be there in ten with a hot blonde, don’t shoot her.” He hung up.
“My guy is in position. You bring a gun?” He cocked his head.
I pulled out my service pistol. “Loaded.”
“We’ll go in, try and apprehend them, but definitely get a tracker on the vehicle.”
“You’re high-tech?” Not what I’d expected.
“You ready? We go in as a couple.” He shucked off his cut and left it in the motorcycle satchel. He stuffed a hat on his head. “In case Deidre remembers me.” He held out his hand.
I stared at it before I clasped my hand in his. Heat pooled low in my stomach. No one had lit me up like this in a long time—too bad he was totally wrong for me.
He squeezed my hand before we walked into the tiny bar. It was full of sleazy people who looked like they were at a casting call for a meth ad. Most of them probably had outstanding warrants.
Marcone snaked his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side. He steered me to the bar, although I wanted to make a beeline to the Logans in the back corner. He jerked me forward and I whipped my head to him. “What the hell?”
“What are you drinking?” He frowned down at me.
“Whatever you’re having.” Why were we even bothering? I wanted to apprehend the guys and get out of here, but apparently this wasn’t the plan. I wished he had told me the plan. “What are you doing?” I whispered to him.
He gave me a lazy grin. “Sugar, don’t worry your pretty little head. I’ll take care of you.” His accent was more pronounced, a strong Texas drawl.
I wanted to punch him, but I forced a smile. “Okay, sweetie.”
The bartender passed him two bottles of beer. Thankfully I wouldn’t have to drink anything from tap in this nasty place. Marcone didn’t even look toward the Logans as he guided me toward the booth across the bar from them. I sat and he scooted in next to me. “I need you close, baby.”
His low sexy rumble made me purr inside, and I almost moaned, but kept it trapped inside. I drank my beer and all of his attention stayed on me. Heat washed over me and I reminded myself this was all for show, but my body was revved and not backing down.
I turned to him, moving my lips close to his ear. “What are we doing?”
He chuckled. “In time, sugar. I want you too.” The rim of his beer bottle rested against full lips; lips I wanted on me. I totally sucked at undercover. Everything felt real to me, and the longer we were together the more those lines blurred.
I drank down half my beer, just trying to distract myself. A too-made-up waitress stopped, smiling in invitation at Marcone. That was just rude.
“Can I get you anything?” Her finger lingered at her breasts. How obvious could she be?
“Two more beers. We’re celebratin’.” He rested a hand on my shoulders.
The waitress nodded and flounced off. The Logans sat across from another couple. An almost empty bottle of tequila sat on the table along with four shot glasses. Deidre laughed and held on to her husband. Why were we waiting? We could go straight to the takedown.
I jumped when Marcone nuzzled my ear. “You’re going to blow our cover if you keep staring.”
Dammit, we should’ve gone over the plan before we came in. Each second felt more like a minute as the time slowed. It felt like every eye was on me. Sweat broke out on my body and I wanted to move, but then I didn’t want to screw up the plan—whatever that was.
I nipped his ear, hard. “Then you should have told me the damn plan.”
His deep laugh hit me in my core again. I should be getting used to it. “Sugar, you’re too much. You’ve been on the back of my bike, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m yours.”
The waitress shot me the stink eye. Marcone made me grouchy with his flirty assurance.
Deidre stood and left, heading to the restroom or back door.
“Okay, sugar, I’ll give you what you need.” He dropped thirty dollars on the table and pulled me up. Eyes followed our movements.
I leaned into him. “Finally, I don’t think I can wait anymore.” I brushed a kiss on his lips. Stupid move, I wanted so much more than a taste. He smelled of leather and musk and tasted like the beer we’d drunk.
His hands settled on my ass and drew me toward him. Our lips collided and his tongue invaded my mouth. Hot damn, his kiss was delectable and woke me up in a whole new way. My body had been in sexual hibernation, but now it was awake and starving. I didn’t give a damn about anything but his next kiss, the next touch. I needed more of what he offered.
He stepped back from me. “Fuck, we need to get out of here.” Sex and longing coated his words, sending a chill through me.
I nodded and followed when he grasped my hand and pulled me behind him into the night. The cool evening air hit me and brought me out of the sex haze.
I’d let him fondle and kiss me. Who was I? Where had the Charlie Pine I knew gone?
“They’ll be coming around soon. Deidre was leaving, Archer will follow.” His words dispelled the last of the fog. I was back in the game and ready for the takedown. He pulled me down between two cars.
“What—”
He clamped a hand over my mouth and put a finger to his mouth to be quiet. Then I heard it, boots on gravel—someone was coming our way.
“Baby, wait up,” Archer Logan called after his wife. “Where you going? We were having a good time.”
Silence met his words and I didn’t think she’d answer.
“I didn’t like the look of that blonde, she was watching us.” Deidre’s throaty voice surprised me. I figured she’d have a higher voice to match her china doll looks.
“They’re getting away.” I shot up. “Police stop.” I pointed my gun at the surprised Archer.
Deidre pulled a gun and fired at me. I ducked back down.
Marcone cursed and stood, firing back. Gunfire popped in the night. “Get it tagged,” I heard him say before he fired again.
I stood again and fired, but they’d ducked down. “Where are they?”
“Over there.” He pointed halfway down the row of cars. He held a finger to his ear, then spoke. “Mark them all.”
“Who—”
Archer fired and Marcone pushed me out of the way. I fell and I heard him grunt. Had he been hit?
A car engine revved and screeched out of the lot. I shot at the back of the car as it careened onto the road and zoomed away.
“Tell me you tagged them.” Marcone growled.
Another guy in a cut shot up in the night, looking down at his phone. “Got them, boss.”
“Good.” He looked down at his arm. “Fuck me.”
Red ran down his bare biceps. “Bring me the first aid kit.”
“You need an ER.”
He gave me an exasperated frown. “You are trouble.”
I fisted hands on hips. How dare he? “I am not. You were doing nothing.”
“I wasn’t getting in a gunfight or making them more suspicious. Now they’ll dump that car soon and the tag won’t lead us anywhere.”
The other biker wiped Marcone’s arm, pressed gauze on the wound and wrapped it in a bandage. It was done in seconds. “I’m taking the SUV. You follow on my bike.” He threw keys to the young biker. “You coming?” He glared at me.
“Hell, yes,” I growled and followed him to a black Escalade. “You going to treat that?”
“Lyle did, it just grazed my arm.” He jumped in the driver’s seat. “I’ll take some antibiotics when I get home.”
I opened my mouth to protest, then shut it. Obviously we lived in different worlds.
He started the truck and sped out of the bar parking lot. “Here, watch the dot and don’t let me get too close.” He tossed me his phone.
I watched the beep move down the road ahead of us. “What am I watching?”
“The Logans’ car, until they dump it.” He shot a dark look my way.
I flinched. How was I supposed to know the plan if he didn’t tell me? I suppose he’d said tracking was the goal, but I didn’t realize what kind of tech he employed, so technically this wasn’t my fuckup. Yet it felt like my fuckup—one that had ended with Marcone shot saving my ass. We were oil and water—no matter the phenomenal chemistry, we didn’t mix.
“It’s slowing and turning a ways up.”
“West,” he spoke to thin air, “do a drive-by.”
“Who are you talking to?”
“West, by Bluetooth, we always stay connected on a takedown, fewer chances for fuckups.” He frowned at me.
I was only partly to blame, maybe.
“You use a lot of tech.” Way to state the obvious, Pine.
“Yeah, we like to do the smash and grab when we know it will work.”
His barb hit home. “You could have been more detailed in your rundown.”
“Apparently.” His short answers did nothing to make me feel better, but I was a big girl. No one liked rookie mistakes, and I’d be the first to bitch if the situation had been reversed.
“Fuck.” He smashed the steering wheel and let out an exasperated sigh. He sped up then pulled in to where his bike sat on a dirt trail.
“What?” I climbed out of the SUV.
“They’re gone, car is here, but no Logans. We lost them again.” He stormed toward the car. “What’s here?”
“Stay back, that’s a crime scene.” I called in the discovery. Crime Scene would be here to process the car and I didn’t want it fucked up by amateurs.
The bikers didn’t listen, so I hurried down there only to find both of them wearing gloves and carefully picking through the detritus in the car. This time I kept my mouth shut. With the two of them sorting through the driver’s and passenger’s sides, I couldn’t even get a good look.
“Pop the trunk,” I told Marcone. He was on the driver’s side.
The trunk lid opened. Inside were three bags. “I need gloves.”
Marcone stepped out of the car and moved back to me. He handed me gloves from his back pocket before opening one of the bags. “Jackpot.”
The duffel was full of money. When I lifted it, money spilled from the bottom of the busted bag. No wonder they’d left it behind. Another bag held clothes. I sorted through it and found two receipts—a bigger jackpot. He peered over my shoulder. “Jason Long...interesting alias.” He jotted it and the partial credit card number down in a small notebook.
I wanted to tell him to stop interfering, but I bit my lip since I wouldn’t even be here without him. And if he’d left me behind, he might have the Logans in custody.