clothes, just hurried down the hall into the living room, grabbing her phone out of her purse where she’d left it. “Hello?”
Jack’s voice was tight, harsh. “Caroline?”
“Yeah, Jack, it’s me. What’d you find out?”
“Where are you?”
“At home, why?”
“Is he there with you?”
Her heart was throbbing again, and she wished she had pants. Underwear, at least. Mason had followed her out of the bedroom, and he was standing in the hallway, watching her carefully. Hoping for information that would lead him to whoever was trying to sully his name and pin the theft of all this money on him.
He’d pulled his jeans on before walking out. It suddenly seemed that he was at an advantage to her, and that made her feel incredibly nervous. “Does it matter?”
“These are not good guys, Caroline. I was able to get names for the account. It’s not just one guy making deposits, and the money they’ve been skimming from the garage—that’s just the beginning. There are interests from all over. My friend was able to tie some things together, and he’s reasonably sure—not sure enough to contact the DA, he said, but sure enough to tell me—that these guys are running stuff into the state. Big stuff. Heavy stuff.”
“What do you mean, Jack?” Her heart was slamming so loudly in her ears that she could hardly breathe. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but Mason was paying extra attention, so close, so studied, his eyes neutral and cold.
“They’re moving meth. Heroin. Guns. Maybe girls; my friend wasn’t sure. Dirty deeds done, but not dirt cheap. There’s a lot of money here, Caroline. A metric shit ton, if you’ll excuse the expression. Either your guy is oblivious as hell, or he’s involved. There’s no way this is happening outside of his notice.”
“Is there a name? Jack, do you have a name for me?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Declan McDermott. There’s a lot of other names, guys my friend says have ties to the Fallen Angels, but it all comes back to him. Which makes sense, I guess, since he’s their ring leader.”
“President,” she said, almost absently, as she ended the call. “He’s called the president.”
Her phone rang almost immediately; she saw Jack’s name, and she silenced the call. She looked at Mason, who was still watching her with that neutral, cold expression.
This wasn’t the man she’d just slept with, the guy who’d let her fall asleep on his lap a few hours before, then brought her back lunch. This was the Fallen Angel, the guy who said he’d never gone “code white” again after his time in the military, whatever the hell that meant.
This was the guy who would put that family before her, every chance he had. Because that was what happened when your guy was a biker. He chose the club first. You were never even second best.
“What did he say?” Mason asked, and she jumped.
“I need to get dressed,” she said, pushing past him, and hoping that he’d let it go.
Instead, his hand circled her wrist, grabbing her and holding her as still as if she’d been chained. “Caroline,” he said, and that coldness seeped into his voice. “Tell me what Jack said. What’s going on?” He tried to smile, but the expression looked more like a grimace.
She yanked her wrist away from him, and he let her go. She was quite sure that he let her go. That he could have held her if he’d chosen to. “I am not talking to you about this naked in the hallway. I am going to get dressed.”
The look in his eyes went from ice to fire in the space of a single heartbeat, and she knew what it felt like to be a rabbit who’d just seen a wolf step out of the tall grass. She kept her chin lifted, her eyes focused tightly on his. There were rules with predators. You never let them see you falter. You never let them see your weaknesses.
After a moment, he moved to the side, letting
Jack’s voice was tight, harsh. “Caroline?”
“Yeah, Jack, it’s me. What’d you find out?”
“Where are you?”
“At home, why?”
“Is he there with you?”
Her heart was throbbing again, and she wished she had pants. Underwear, at least. Mason had followed her out of the bedroom, and he was standing in the hallway, watching her carefully. Hoping for information that would lead him to whoever was trying to sully his name and pin the theft of all this money on him.
He’d pulled his jeans on before walking out. It suddenly seemed that he was at an advantage to her, and that made her feel incredibly nervous. “Does it matter?”
“These are not good guys, Caroline. I was able to get names for the account. It’s not just one guy making deposits, and the money they’ve been skimming from the garage—that’s just the beginning. There are interests from all over. My friend was able to tie some things together, and he’s reasonably sure—not sure enough to contact the DA, he said, but sure enough to tell me—that these guys are running stuff into the state. Big stuff. Heavy stuff.”
“What do you mean, Jack?” Her heart was slamming so loudly in her ears that she could hardly breathe. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but Mason was paying extra attention, so close, so studied, his eyes neutral and cold.
“They’re moving meth. Heroin. Guns. Maybe girls; my friend wasn’t sure. Dirty deeds done, but not dirt cheap. There’s a lot of money here, Caroline. A metric shit ton, if you’ll excuse the expression. Either your guy is oblivious as hell, or he’s involved. There’s no way this is happening outside of his notice.”
“Is there a name? Jack, do you have a name for me?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Declan McDermott. There’s a lot of other names, guys my friend says have ties to the Fallen Angels, but it all comes back to him. Which makes sense, I guess, since he’s their ring leader.”
“President,” she said, almost absently, as she ended the call. “He’s called the president.”
Her phone rang almost immediately; she saw Jack’s name, and she silenced the call. She looked at Mason, who was still watching her with that neutral, cold expression.
This wasn’t the man she’d just slept with, the guy who’d let her fall asleep on his lap a few hours before, then brought her back lunch. This was the Fallen Angel, the guy who said he’d never gone “code white” again after his time in the military, whatever the hell that meant.
This was the guy who would put that family before her, every chance he had. Because that was what happened when your guy was a biker. He chose the club first. You were never even second best.
“What did he say?” Mason asked, and she jumped.
“I need to get dressed,” she said, pushing past him, and hoping that he’d let it go.
Instead, his hand circled her wrist, grabbing her and holding her as still as if she’d been chained. “Caroline,” he said, and that coldness seeped into his voice. “Tell me what Jack said. What’s going on?” He tried to smile, but the expression looked more like a grimace.
She yanked her wrist away from him, and he let her go. She was quite sure that he let her go. That he could have held her if he’d chosen to. “I am not talking to you about this naked in the hallway. I am going to get dressed.”
The look in his eyes went from ice to fire in the space of a single heartbeat, and she knew what it felt like to be a rabbit who’d just seen a wolf step out of the tall grass. She kept her chin lifted, her eyes focused tightly on his. There were rules with predators. You never let them see you falter. You never let them see your weaknesses.
After a moment, he moved to the side, letting
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