“You’re a cop who wears a gun. Smart, too. You could’ve been anything, and yet you chose to seek justice. There’s a reason for that.” He glanced around her. “You drive a piece of crap, which means you put your money somewhere else—and not in clothes or shoes.” His gaze raked her head to toe. “Definitely not in clothes.”
Her jeans weren’t that bad. Her reasons for becoming a cop were none of his business. “What do you know about Kellach Dunne?”
Bear’s brown gaze met hers levelly. “Is that a personal or a professional question?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He grinned. “Because if you’re asking professionally, I don’t work with cops. If you’re asking personally, I’ll tell you everything I know.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because if you know the truth about that Irish bastard, maybe you’ll forget him.” Bear kept his gaze level on her.
Heat speared into her cheeks. The badass biker was flirting with her. “How about you tell me everything, anyway?”
Another man, a couple of inches shorter than Bear, jogged out from the office. Longish brown hair, mellow brown eyes, definite fighting shape. “Just got a call you need to take,” the guy said, his gaze raking her.
She lifted her chin.
“Detective Monzelle, this is one of my lieutenants, Lucas Clarke,” Bear said, apparently not caring much about the phone call.
Clarke nodded and took her hand for a big but gentle shake. “Detective.”
“Lieutenant,” Lex returned.
Bear grinned. “Tell whoever is on the phone that I’ll call them back.” His gaze remained warm on her.
Clarke hovered and then shrugged a massive shoulder before turning back for the office.
Bear’s nostrils flared, and he studied her closer. “Oh my.”
She blinked. “What?”
He shook his head. “You and Kellach Dunne, huh?”
So the gossip mill was turning about her dating Kell. If Bear only knew the full truth. “My personal life is not part of this investigation,” she said.
Bear opened his mouth to say something, stilled, and then turned to view the long road, stepping partially in front of her.
She turned, her instincts flaring to life. “What?”
Dented and rusty, a delivery truck rumbled toward them, screeching to a stop.
A guy from the garage called out, “I ordered supplies for the Bentley. That’s them.”
Bear nodded and kept his gaze on the truck, all semblance of a smile gone. For the first time, Lex saw the club leader whispered about on the streets.
“I don’t like a guy who doesn’t take care of his truck,” Bear murmured, tension vibrating along his arms.
A man jumped out from the passenger side of the van, a clipboard in his hands.
The breeze picked up.
Bear lifted his head and inhaled sharply. “Detective? I’m gonna ask you to get in your car and go now. We can talk later.”
She turned to face the delivery truck, her hand inching to her gun. “What’s going on?”
Almost in slow motion, the delivery guy dropped his clipboard. Yellow and orange cascaded along his arms, and fiery balls curled in his palms.
Lex smoothly dropped into a crouch, drawing her weapon. The second she hit her haunches, the guy threw. Bear grabbed her and pummeled her to the ground. The ball hit her car, denting metal, bouncing to the front.
“Damn it.” Lifting her with one arm, Bear tucked her close and zigzagged toward the garage where several club members had run out, yanking off their shirts.
Lex struggled against Bear’s implacable hold, firing toward the fire shooter.
Bear plunked her on a bike and jumped in front of her, igniting the engine. “Fight back the second I get her out of range,” he bellowed, gunning the motor and zipping around the garage.
Lex cried out and grabbed hold of Bear’s broad ribcage. “Go back. Get your ass back there, Bear.” She was a cop. She could fight. What the hell was he doing? Why were those men taking off their shirts? She leaned up, her mouth at his ear. “Get back there. We left Garrett and Logan. They’re two kids.”
Bear ignored her and drove faster along an asphalt road the size of a golf path.
She looked over his shoulder. Was it just for bikes?
He maneuvered between trees and around overgrown bushes. Behind them, the sound of explosions echoed and fire crackled. Out of nowhere, a bike zoomed close, driven by a man already on fire. He grinned, even while flames danced along his arms and across his torso, somehow not burning his shirt.
Damn fucking witches. She had no other explanation and had to face reality to shoot at it. She did both. Lex pointed her weapon and fired two shots. They hit the guy, but he merely flinched. What the hell?
She looked around. So much fire and no other explanation. These guys could create and throw fire, just like Kellach. They had to be witches. She held tighter to Bear, wondering how the hell to explain it to him. The wind rushed by them as they neared the man on fire.
A second muddy dirt bike roared out of the forest, out numbering them. Its front tire scraped Bear’s.