Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4)

The doors slid open, and his partner crossed from the tiled floor of the grocery store onto the sidewalk.

Briefly, a small knot of guilt wormed its way through John as he thought of Marcus, the courageous boy who’d helped them start down this path. Marcus and the rest of his family would be safer, though, he reminded himself. The sooner John could dismantle the Royal Sinners, the better off everybody in this town would be.

Sixty seconds later, Luke Carlton neared the exit of the grocery store. It was a little after six on a Tuesday evening. He carried two bags of groceries. He wore jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. His gray hair was freshly combed, as if he’d taken a shower before he ran his errands.

Luke didn’t notice the two men in slacks and button-downs loitering outside the local market. He kept walking, his keys in one hand, whistling under his breath. Sounded like Beethoven, something he’d probably taught to a young student recently.

John burned with frustration over the freedom this man had enjoyed for so many years. But it was also Luke’s Achilles’ heel. He thought he could keep it up indefinitely, living like an average guy.

John stepped away from the brick wall he’d been leaning against and stopped in the path of the head of a dangerous street gang. An average, ordinary guy.

“Pardon me,” he said, shifting to the right to avoid John, as if he’d truly just bumped into him. Funny how Luke didn’t even look up. If he had, he might have recognized the detective he’d lied to a few months ago.

Fucking mild-mannered piano teacher, my ass. But the guy had pulled it off, living a double life for years. That was about to be blown wide open.

“Good to see you again, Luke Carlton. You’re under arrest,” John said.

The second the words left John’s mouth, Luke dropped his grocery bags and bolted. It was an instant reaction—he took off along the sidewalk of the cavernous store, running like hell.

John went after him, sidestepping the bunch of bananas, the trail of cans, and the chicken that had spilled from the bags. Luke had more speed than John would ever have expected. He ran past a line of shopping carts, grabbing the handle of one and yanking it out onto the sidewalk.

John dodged the cart, and his partner was right behind him as Luke rounded the corner into the back lot to the side of the store. Luke seemed hell-bent on escape, and John completely understood his drive. The man had lived a scot-free life for two decades. That could drive a man to run like hell. But so could the pursuit of justice, so could dogged determination, and so could years of running every morning before the sun even rose.

John had all that in his favor.

Even though the bastard was fast, he wasn’t fast enough. No fucking way was John letting Luke Carlton get away from him in the back parking lot of a grocery store.

With his heart pumping, his feet pounding, and his breath coming in fast, powerful spurts, John neared him. Ten feet, five feet away now. John closed the distance across the asphalt, stretched out his arm, grabbed the back of his shirt, and tackled him.

Luke twisted in his arms. “Let me go. You’ve got the wrong man.”

He was like an eel, flinging and swishing and desperately coiling his body. But John wasn’t letting go, and as his partner reached them, the cuffs were ready.

John yanked Luke up, pinned both wrists, pushed him against a dumpster, and slapped on the handcuffs.

He breathed out hard. “As I was saying. Good to see you again, Luke Carlton. You’re under arrest for illegal gun trafficking.” Then he rattled off a litany of violations that this man had committed over the years, from selling guns without background checks, to peddling weapons to convicted felons, to giving firearms to fugitives.

And at last, they took him in.

*

The next morning, John paid a visit to Lee Stefano, to see if he could get that punk to serve up some details on T.J.’s whereabouts. Weeks in jail had worn him down. He wasn’t so keen on “protecting their own” anymore, so he named a few spots that T.J. had been known to frequent. An interesting list, to be sure. John had a hunch where they might be able to nab the guy. Bringing in T.J. would require some stealth. The man was already wanted, so John would need the element of surprise on his side, and he knew how to pull it off.

He called Michael Sloan to ask for his help. Michael said yes, then John cleared his throat, shifted gears, and asked him for the number of the cute blonde. He’d had Mindy on his mind since the night he met her.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR


“You want us to set a trap?”