Dude with a Cool Car (Concrete Angels MC Book 2) Page 9

  Unless Karma and Loki are lying and testing me to see how much I know.

  It wouldn’t surprise me. Karma might like the sex I offered, but that didn’t mean she trusted me. I ignored the stab of guilt. At some point I’d have to reconcile the emotions I felt about her with the reality that my investigation had started with her motorcycle club, and they were my main suspects. I hadn’t ruled them out, but my gut said they were pawns rather than perpetrators.

  My gut or my dick?

  Before I could come up with an answer, Karma returned to the main room dressed in jeans, her leather cut over a long-sleeved black t-shirt, and a pair of sleek, soft-soled boots that looked like light-hikers for space. She’d gathered her amazing mane of hair up into a headband that allowed it to cascade in a plume of curls down her back. It was sexy as hell.

  “Damn, Ma’am. You’re one sexy woman.”

  The smile curling her lips took on a hint of flattered delight. I wondered if anyone had told her that without wanting something from her. But I meant it. She was my fantasy come to life and I’d do my damnedest to find a way to make sure I could stay with her for as long as possible.

  “Thanks.” She nodded as she handed me the key to her cabin. It was actually an old-fashioned skeleton key. When I raised my eyebrows, she tilted her head toward the door. “If you have to go out to your car for something. Your bag, for instance.”

  I grinned. “Oh, yeah, I might need that.”

  “I expect to see you here when I get back tonight. Don’t worry about waiting up. It’ll be late, but I’d like you to be here.” She turned her beautiful eyes on me and an odd shadow of vulnerability hid in their depths.

  It warmed my heart and sparked an answering need to protect her. I almost snorted. Karma doesn’t need protection. But it didn’t stop me from wanting to. I smiled.

  “I’ll be here.”

  She grinned and nodded before heading out. I followed her to the door then stood there as she sauntered back toward the clubhouse. Damn, she’s so sexy. And powerful. As she closed in on the larger building, her body language changed from relaxed and carefree to bold and intimidating. I’d just seen her assume her Enforcer role, and the transformation was impressive.

  I just hoped my investigation proved she and the Concrete Angels were innocent of Backlog’s bullshit. Oh, my gut and my initial findings suggested that was the case, but I wanted proof to backup suspicions. I squeezed the key she’d given me and thought about my plan of attack.

  First, I needed my bag and my laptop, but there was no way I’d use their Wi-Fi. I’d hotspot my phone to keep my lines of communication free from listeners. I’d also check my car and Karma’s cabin for bugs with my handy-dandy Bug and GPS detector. The special White Noise App on my phone would ensure other listening devices didn’t catch my conversations in places I didn’t trust.

  I scanned the yard outside the cabins as I headed toward the barn to my car. Most of the Concrete Angels had retreated to the clubhouse to party, but there were a few working in the barn. One guy stood in the shadows of the workshop, damn near invisible as the sun ducked behind the mountains. I wouldn’t have seen him except the bright blue plaid of his armless shirt stood out against his tanned skin. He stood still, like he’d been carved from a statue, and his gaze never wavered from mine. It was eerie as hell, but since he didn’t make a move toward me, I shoved him to the back of my mind.

  You can look as long as you like. Just don’t touch, buddy.

  I made it the car and unlocked it before popping the trunk and pulling out my bag. I gave a visual inspection to make sure my camping gear remained where I’d left it before I closed the trunk and set the bag on top. I dug around to make sure all my toys remained where they should. No one had disturbed my things that I could tell, but that was another reason why I had the detector.

  I turned off my cell and laptop before powered on the little hand-held unit. It chirped to let me know it was ready and I swung it around the car, looking for little toys left for me by my current hosts. Or Backlog agents. I wouldn’t put it past them to have gotten to my car when I wasn’t looking.

  The little scanner picked up three bugs. One under my front bench seat, one in my bag, and a GPS tracker inside the trunk. Damn, those boys have been busy. I made sure to go through my clothing to ensure their freedom from electronic vermin and locked up the car.

  I glanced at the barn when I headed back toward Karma’s cabin, but the silent man had disappeared. Yeah, that’s not creepy at all. I sped my steps just a bit to reach the cabin and ducked inside, locking the door. I set Karma’s key down on the kitchenette counter and went through my listening-device routine. I found two bugs and a camera, which I ripped out. No one should be keeping tabs on Karma.

  My gut turned over at the thought of someone listening to what we’d done in her bedroom, but we couldn’t put that genie back in the bottle. I’d just make sure we didn’t have any other uninvited guests to our play time.

  I sat at the little dinette table and set up my laptop and a little white noise generator, just in case I’d missed any electronic bugs. Then I took a deep breath and dialed my boss’s cell.

  “Battlebourne.”

  “Yeah, it’s DeVille.”

  “Holy shit, DeVille. Where the hell have you been? I thought maybe the guys from the…organization had caught up with you.” Neither of us said Backlog aloud over the phone.

  “No, just been laying low while I check out the Concrete Angels.”

  “Yeah, smart. How’s that going?”

  “I’m in.”

  There was a short pause. “What?”

  “I’m in. I got into the Concrete Angels’ compound.” I could see the narrowed eyes through the phone.

  “How the hell did you do that?”

  “I met someone, made a contact, and got invited to one of their parties.” Close enough. He didn’t really need the details.

  “Uh-huh. So what have you found out?”

  I shrugged even if he couldn’t see it. “Not much yet, but I got permission to start looking into their dealings with Agent Arnold Eisenburg and we know he was with the organization. But I gotta say, from what the CA members have been saying, I don’t think they were in on what he was doing. I’m getting the feeling they were either pawns or patsies.”

  I could hear his brows come down. “You met a woman, didn’t you?”

  “What?”

  “Come on, DeVille. I know you. You wouldn’t be this lenient on a suspected group unless you met someone you liked. Just make sure you’re thinking with your big head rather than your little one.”

  “Yeah, you do know me, and you know I don’t think with my little head.” At least not when it mattered. I could enjoy my time with Karma and still keep track of my investigation. But my gut kept saying the Concrete Angels weren’t in on Backlog’s gig. “My gut says they’re not in the know.”

  “Let’s hope it really is your gut and not your dick talking.”

  I didn’t get snarky because I’d had the same thought. “Yes, sir. I’ll get started tonight and see what I can dig up. What do you know about Agents Eisenburg and Hopkins?”

  “They were both highly decorated FBI agents, but Hopkins got that rape accusation that kinda put him under the lens of Internal Affairs.” Battlebourne paused and I heard other voices in the background. After a few moments, he resumed. “Someone high up made the rape charge slide under the rug and the accuser left the FBI. Guess she couldn’t hack the pressure.”

  I scowled. Gary Battlebourne was a good guy overall, but his blasé view of rape pissed me off. I didn’t have a sister or a mother or a cousin who’d been raped, but the idea that a man would use his size and strength to sexually hurt someone infuriated me. My ire trebled when I thought it could happen to Karma.

  “Are you thinking the organization made sure it wasn’t thoroughly investigated?”

  “That would be my guess given his position within their ranks. They couldn’t afford their fa
vorite little FBI stooge to get his career derailed just because he dipped his wick where he wasn’t supposed to.” I heard the growl in Battlebourne’s voice.

  “Yeah, right. I’m going to talk to the woman who accused him tomorrow and see what she knows. Apparently, the Concrete Angels hired her to look into their financials when they realized someone was skimming. They’ve found most of it, but apparently there’s about three million outstanding.”

  “Holy fuck!” Battlebourne barked and then whispered an apology to someone on his end. “That’s not the “most” of it?”

  “Yeah, apparently Eisenburg siphoned off a decent amount to destinations unknown. I’ve promised to look into it because I suspect the organization is behind it.” I took a deep breath, hoping I’d allayed his concerns about me thinking with my dick. “That’s why I don’t think the Concrete Angels are in league with them. If the motorcycle club is looking for their money, I think they’re just being used.”

  Battlebourne hummed. “Yeah, you might be right. See what you can dig up and let me know. I’ll talk to you in a few days unless something comes up.”

  “Yes, sir. Later.”

  “Later.”

  The line went dead and I rubbed my chin. Every time I thought about the Concrete Angels working with Backlog, my gut said I was off base. They might have had a connection to Backlog when Eisenburg was undercover as Roy, but that ended with his exposure. And the bikers wanted their money back. I had a feeling they might not succeed, but they damn sure would try and might give Backlog a hell of an adversary. I wouldn’t want Loki and his crew coming after me.

  I sighed and used my phone as a hot-spot before I cracked open my laptop. Tonight I’d poke around and see what I could find out about Hopkins’ and Eisenburg’s deaths that the authorities hadn’t divulged to the public and tomorrow I’d talk to Numbers and find out what she knew. Hopefully she’d be willing to talk to me. And she won’t figure out I’m actually a member of law enforcement.

  If she was half as smart as I guessed she was, I’d have to be really careful.

  Chapter Nine

  Karma

  I kept a wary eye on Gopher and his buddies as the party got really rockin’. I could tell he was super pleased he’d secured his membership into the Concrete Angels if the drunk love fest he’d handed to Coop was any indication. But I wouldn’t put it past him to do something super stupid that would put his cut in jeopardy. Or at least make some sort of mess to clean up. We’d lost members just as fast as we gained them for shit like that.

  For the most part, the party was staying within acceptable levels of chaos and I could enjoy most of my time. And I was. Mostly. But my mind kept slipping back to the handsome PI staying in my cabin, waiting for me to get off work. Too bad he’s not working to get me off. Yeah, I might wake his ass up and make him eat my pussy when I came in around 2:30 am after we closed the bar and set out the Alka-Seltzer, tea, fresh water, and bread. The hangover remedies would be needed tomorrow.

  “Hey, Karma, you doing okay?” Viper stepped up beside me with her personal tumbler of fine Irish whisky.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Because I thought you’d like to know that your boy toy found the listening and tracking devices in his car and in your cabin before he settled down for the evening.”

  Viper was in charge of our physical security around the compound. We didn’t need much. Most people were smart enough to leave us the hell alone, but every now and again some stupid human kids would try to get through the fence. Fortunately, we had a couple of guys who didn’t need much sleep and they patrolled the grounds when needed. Viper helped with the more digital eyes and ears.

  I raised my eyebrows. “You put devices in my cabin?” That wouldn’t work. I didn’t want to share Coop’s screams of pleasure with anyone.

  “Yeah, just two listeners and a camera. Not very much. But he found them. He’s pretty smart.” Viper grinned and nodded. “He also never tapped into our Wi-Fi so we won’t know what he’s doing on the net. He’s got a revolving encryption on his phone.”

  I nodded, suitably impressed. Coop said he was a PI. More than likely he was sneakier than the regular sneaks and hackers. For some reason, that made me feel more secure rather than less.

  “And he got the ones I stashed in his car. The man’s thorough.”

  She didn’t know the half of it. But Viper was talking about finding electronic visitors, not sex, and I wasn’t about to enlighten her.

  “Flint and Torch are hanging out at the barn and are kinda keeping an eye on what he does when he comes out of your door.”

  I barked a laugh at that. Flint was a gargoyle, the original Concrete Angel, and Torch was a dragon. Yeah, that kind of dragon. He wore a human disguise pretty well and most people didn’t know he could bench-press a Peterbilt with a full trailer. But when I looked carefully, I could see the head, neck, horns, and tail of his draconian self against the night sky.

  Though Viper was as human as Coop, she had some talents that made me question her heritage, and she knew about all us “other” members of the club. Only a small cadre of the human inner circle knew about those of us who weren’t human. But besides Michael, Luke, and me, no one else knew Loki was the real Loki, Norse God of Mischief and Trickery. Not even Torch and Flint, though it was hard to tell what the gargoyle did or didn’t know. He rarely spoke, and never aloud.

  “Thanks for putting them on watch. We’ll all be safer for it, including Coop.”

  Viper nodded. “He’s the one, isn’t he?”

  “What?” I blinked.

  “The One. The center of your soul, your heart of hearts, the happily-ever-after. You know, all the clichés. Coop’s your one-and-only, isn’t he?”

  One of the things I shared with Viper was a love for romance novels. Humans might be a pain in the ass and so damn greedy, but they also loved fiercely and with great creativity. And those who could write it down and weave a world just a little happier than ours? Pure magic. Viper was a big fan of cowboy and hockey romances, while I preferred the BDSM and paranormal romances, natch.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  Viper nodded with a smirk. “I figured. Otherwise it was too damn fast for you to bring him to your cabin. The few other guys you’ve fucked haven’t ever gotten close to your home.”

  I hadn’t thought of that, but she was right. I didn’t bring people into my sanctuary because I wanted a place where no one could disturb me, especially if I had to work some big retribution magic.

  For example, the scooters were getting a little too rowdy around Numbers at the pool tables and Scott was liable to do some serious damage to the room with them. Time to bring some swift and enduring results before they trashed our clubhouse.

  “Let’s take out the trash and we can keep talking.” I’d already started moving toward the tables and Viper followed.

  “Sounds good.”

  One thing I liked about Viper was her can-do attitude when it came to manhandling. She might have been human, but she could kick-ass better than most of the men. And she didn’t take anyone’s shit. She’d just as soon cut someone as smile and too many guys had underestimated her. Including the guy who’d hurt her. His karma had come back around for him and he was long gone—I’d made sure—but the damage to Viper had been done and now she had skin thick enough to give a rhino a run for its money.

  And yet, she’s still romantic. But only I knew that. And maybe Loki.

  It didn’t take us long to clear out the scooters and put them to work cleaning up the yard and the pool area with Attila watching over them. The Scot could hold his liquor better than most of the other club members and could keep everyone in line, even when schnockered. Gopher was too drunk to do anything beyond drooling so we hauled his ass to the barracks and let him sleep it off. Scott hovered around Numbers like a snarly junkyard dog, but things calmed enough for Viper and I to resume our post near the bar to keep an eye on things.

  “I’m happy for you, you know.”
Viper sipped a lemonade to keep herself sharp. She could drink with the best of them, but she only allowed herself one most nights. Another byproduct of the asshole who’d hurt her. “You deserve to have love and a sexy man to fuck all the time.”

  “So do you.”

  Viper grimaced and waved the idea away. “Eh, I had my chance and I picked the wrong one.”

  “It ain’t over until the robust woman sings, and I’m not hearing the aria.”

  Viper raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was ‘fat lady’?”

  “Hey, there’s no body shaming here. It takes a lot of skill and strength to sing opera, and she doesn’t have to be a wiry stick of a woman. You know, like you.”

  Viper laughed and punched my shoulder. “Shut up. There’s no need to be jealous just because I’m hot in my leather pants and bustier.” She tilted her head with a coy look out of the corner of her eyes and her black hair swung to shield half her face, tickling the tops of her breasts. “Everyone wants to be me. I’ve got it, so I’m gonna flaunt it.”

  I laughed, but my heart squeezed for her. She used her looks to hide the wounded heart underneath, and I wanted to tell her the beauty she possessed wasn’t in her tight abs and ass. But we’d come to a mutual truce and understanding years ago. I didn’t poke at her wounds or the pretty bandages she’d layered over them, and she didn’t tell anyone she’d paid me fifteen life years to watch the man who’d hurt her get his karma.

  Usually the payment of life years didn’t come with any residuals from the person who gave them to me and I could do my job with detachment. But it had been different with Viper. I’d experienced the burning need to see retribution done and satisfaction filled me when the results came due. It made me understand the human condition a lot more than I had before, and it also educated me on how much I should charge for those kinds of consequences.