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He closed his eyes for a few moments in an attempt to breathe out the tightness in his chest. Tension that would only get worse once he got into his truck and left Mel behind. When he opened them again, he ordered, “Phone on you at all times. Give Sapphire my number and have her keep her phone on her, too. Also give it to the girls. Tell them that if any of them see you in trouble, they need to call or text me immediately and I’ll be here as fast as I can, or I can send in the locals.”
“What if he changes the code? You won’t be able to get in.”
“Then you tell someone to let me in. I’m not going to let them manhandle you like that again. Never again, Mel. I didn’t pull my weapon this time, but next time someone might end up with an extra hole in their fucking head.”
“Then that will not only blow your cover, it might blow your investigation.”
She might be right but he didn’t care.
Then it hit him. He cared more about her than his damn job and the task force.
When the fuck did that happen?
It couldn’t be because he slept with her. He’d never gotten attached so quickly to a woman he’d knocked boots with. If it wasn’t the sex, how did she get past his carefully maintained armor?
Did he somehow step in quicksand, like Fletch?
For fuck’s sake. He had to be imagining it. “I’ll be back at seven sharp. If you’re not out here, I’m going inside.”
She rose on her toes and planted a kiss on his lips while squeezing his bicep in assurance he did not feel. “I’ll see you at seven.”
“Stay safe,” he murmured. Dread filled his entire being as he watched her walk away.
If any of those motherfuckers touched or hurt her again, he would burn that club to the ground, along with anyone wearing a Deadly Demons cut.
As Dirty Harry once said, “Don’t fuck with me, buddy, or I’ll kick your ass so hard you’ll have to unbutton your collar to shit.”
Just call him Dirty Fucking Danny.
Grinding his teeth and curling and uncurling his fingers into fists, Finn took long strides across the third floor of The Plant.
Maybe he should’ve headed home and went a few rounds with the heavy bag hanging in his condo’s garage instead of showing up here. But he needed to meet with Crew and give him an update, so here he was…
However, every inch of his skin itched with the thought of leaving Mel behind at the club.
He reminded himself that managing the club was her job.
It was her job.
It was her goddamn job!
He needed to get over it. She worked there long before him and would probably end up working there after him. She was capable of handling herself. Proof apparent was when she didn’t break down into a quivering, crying mess after T-Bone—that fucking motherfucker—manhandled her.
“Settle down, Ginger Snap. You getting all red in the face isn’t going to change anything. It’ll just give you heartburn.”
“One of those motherfuckers hurt her, Crew. Fucking hurt her.”
“She knew getting involved was a risk, so why’s your panties in a wad?”
Once he ran out of floorspace, he spun on his heel and headed in the opposite direction.
He no longer saw Crew leaning against the long table with his arms crossed over his chest. Or Rez and Decker transcribing wiretaps. Or even seeing Nox sitting at a computer, typing up a report. No. He only saw Mel wincing when she rubbed the back of her head where it struck the van, and the marks on her throat T-Bone left behind. “Yours would be, too, if you saw her damn neck. She was slammed against the stash van because she was snooping around in an attempt to help us.”
“Did you ask her to do that?”
“No.”
“Well, there you go. She took a risk of her own accord. She can’t expect to light the match to burn down an outlaw MC and not get a few heat blisters in the process.”
Finn slammed to a halt. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
Crew shrugged. “Here’s an easy solution that might unjam your thong: tell her to do nothing but observe unless we approve it first.”
“Yeah, right.” He scraped his fingers through his hair. “She hates those assholes and would love to see them go down sooner than later.”
“She’s not the only one, brother. But as you know, an investigation like this takes time and once that’s complete, the wheels of justice grind even slower. If they even grind at all.”
Finn ground his hand against the back of his neck and began to pace again. Yeah, he needed to hit something or maybe even go to the range. Blasting some paper targets with Saint and T-Bone’s names written center mass over the silhouettes would relieve some tension.
