Lex laughed. “You must’ve been somebody really bad in a past life.” When she’d been assigned as Bernie’s partner years ago, as a rookie, he’d instantly taken a serious approach to teaching her how to survive. After many close scrapes, tons of arrests, and way too many stakeouts, she couldn’t love him any more than she did. “But I agree, this is a little crazy.”
“Then let’s turn around and head back to the station.” Bernie twisted his neck to look up at the sky through the front window of his nondescript Cutlass. “There’s a hell of a storm moving in, and we can get that paperwork done.” Thunder bellowed high above as if in agreement.
She wiped her damp palms on her faded jeans as the trees flew by outside. Pine and the smell of oncoming rain filled her senses. While she understood Bernie’s reluctance to getting shot so close to his retirement, she had a feeling about this case. “We have to get those drugs off the streets, and while this is risky, I think it’s worth a chance.”
“You’re gonna get us both fired. Or dead.” Bernie was six months from retirement, and he was, in a word, done. Grumbling under his breath about missing breakfast, he turned down the long, asphalted private road leading to the Grizzlies’ clubhouse. “We’re trespassing, we don’t have no warrant, and the brass is already looking at us for the botched mission the other night. You know? When our mark ended up dead in an alley, and my partner ended up at Fire?”
She rolled her eyes and straightened her black leather jacket, which nicely covered the gun holstered near her ribs. “The gang task force has investigated the Grizzlies for a decade, and not once has anything illegal popped up. The majority of motorcycle clubs in the country are clean and made up of good guys, Bern.”
“Titans of Fire ain’t clean.” Bernie rolled down his window and spit out his gum. “Even if the Grizzlies are clean, they ain’t gonna help the cops against another gang.”
“Club. They’re clubs.”
The narrow road led to a two-story garage with three sprawling garage doors straight ahead and a clubhouse to the right. The clubhouse wasn’t nearly as large as Fire’s and probably didn’t have private rooms.
Interesting. “Just relax and back me up.” Lex opened her door and stepped into the rapidly cooling day.
Quiet. Compared to Fire’s territory, the Grizzlies’ headquarters was peaceful. A bird chirped in the surrounding trees, and in the distance, a wolf mourned. The breeze picked up, and she shivered.
A normal sized door opened next to one of the massive garage doors, and a man strode out, wiping grease off his hands with a torn rag. “Help you?”
Lex paused, recognizing the president of the motorcycle club from files she’d pored over the previous week. According to the file, he’d started the club ten years ago, but before that, the man was a mystery. Shifting slightly, she allowed her jacket to slide away from the badge clipped at her belt. “I’m Detective Monzelle, and I’d like to talk to you, Mr. McDunphy.”
“Bear.” His gaze dropped to her badge, he lifted one dark eyebrow, and then his eyes traveled every inch of her from her boots to her blond hair. He finished wiping his hands and shoved the rag in his back pocket, his jaw a solid block in a square face. “Pretty girls call me Bear.”
He looked like a bear. Well over six-feet tall, broad as a barn, shaggy brown hair, and honey-warm chocolate eyes. A solid hint of danger cascaded off him, and he moved with the grace of a wild predator. Not one almost tamed by civilization that would eye a human warily from the side of a country road. One that would instantly pounce and eat, no friend to humanity. He strolled closer, cutting his gaze to Bernie in the car.
Lex fought the urge to step back. She was a cop, damn it. An armed cop. What was up with the wild men she kept running into lately? She glanced around at the so very quiet area. “Where is everybody?”
“Out on a ride,” Bear said, turning his focus back to her and stopping his advance near the car as if accustomed to people backing away. “What can I do for you, Detective?” No expression touched his handsome face, and his body remained relaxed.
Her heart beat faster, and her breath sped up. Instinct? “I was hoping you’d be kind enough to answer some questions.”
“About?” he asked softly, his voice still a low rumble.
“Titans of Fire, drugs, and guns,” she answered just as softly.
He rubbed his whiskered chin. “We’re at peace with Fire, we don’t do drugs, and we don’t run guns. Anything else?”
She tilted her head. “There’s a new drug on the streets called Apollo, and it’s killing people. Fire is distributing it.”
“So?”
“Rumor has it your club protects this northern territory. Tell me you don’t want a drug like that killing people.” She eyed him.
The wind picked up and slammed pine cones against his motorcycle boots. “If people are dumb enough to do drugs, they deserve what they get.” He glanced up at the billowing black clouds. “Better get your sweet butt back in your car before the rain starts, Detective.”
“Did you know that Fire merged with an Irish club?” she asked.