Riding Dirty (26 page)

Those were all excellent reasons to decline. Mia touched his upper arm, and he flinched. “But?”

“The pay would be good. I’d wear a suit and tie, and look respectable.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to look respectable.”

“I want to take care of you.”

Her chest twisted with guilt. “Cole...”

“Why are you with me?” he asked abruptly.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a thug and a lowlife. I have no future, and very little money.”

“I don’t care about money.”

“You only say that because you’ve never had to go without it.” He gestured at her artfully displayed cleavage. “You enjoy your nice clothes and luxuries.”

She clutched the edges of her vest together. The corset seemed like a silly extravagance now, a desperate plea for attention. Worse, she was hiding a bug inside one of the cups. This was wrong on so many levels.

“My dad was thirty-two when he got laid off,” he said. “He’d worked in the gypsum mine for sixteen years. He didn’t have an education, or any other skills. I think he got into meth because he was tired. Used up. I don’t want to follow in his footsteps.”

“What other jobs are you interested in?”

His expression turned grim. “It doesn’t matter, does it? I shouldn’t have brought it up. You might as well ask a lifer what he’s going to do when he gets out.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Like what, realistically?”

“You can have a future, Cole.”

“If I cooperate with the investigation, and manage to stay alive, you mean. Then they’ll relocate me to work on some jerk-off assembly line in Pissant, Pennsylvania. And we’ll never see each other again.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Would you come with me if I rode off into the sunset?”

Mia was rattled by the question. Although his voice sounded light, his face looked serious.

“You said you weren’t happy,” he reminded her. “What’s holding you here?”

“I have a family member in the area. She’s all I’ve got.”

His throat worked as he swallowed. “Is it a kid?”

“It’s my mother,” she said softly.

“She can’t be moved?”

“No.” Mia’s aunt made her mother’s medical decisions.

Cole stared at her for a long moment. “Maybe I’ll just take you as my hostage.”

Heat suffused her cheeks. The thought filled her with an uncomfortable sort of pleasure. She might enjoy being his captive, held against her will. Then she’d be free of responsibilities, free of decisions. If only they didn’t have to live in the real world. “You won’t get far with that tracking device,” she said.

“My uncle wants to meet you.”

Her stomach dropped. “Why?”

“He thinks you’re a Fed. He thinks everyone is.”

She couldn’t hide her unease. So she just stood there, her heart fluttering like a trapped bird inside her chest.

“Come on,” he said, getting on his bike. “Let’s go.”

Mia hesitated. If he suspected her of being a federal agent, there was no telling what he might do. But she still had to bug him and pass him the note. If she didn’t, Damon would take him back to prison. So she inhaled a deep breath and climbed aboard, hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake. As they sped down the circuitous path leading out of the parking garage, she removed the stamp-sized bug from her bodice. Pulse pounding, she tore off the strip that protected the adhesive with her teeth and stuck it to the back of his vest.

“Hang on with both hands,” he said over his shoulder.

She followed his instructions, clinging to him with a white-knuckled grip. He’d felt it. He had to have felt it, and wondered what the hell she was doing. As soon as they stopped, she’d pass him the note with a desperate kiss. She touched her tongue to the tiny wad in her cheek. Then they went over a bump, and it lodged in her throat.

Oh shit.

She coughed on instinct, expelling the obstruction. She couldn’t grab it; her arms were locked around his waist. The gum went flying into the air, destined to stick to someone’s shoe or melt on the street.

Mia’s life flashed before her eyes. She’d bugged him and lost the note! She was doomed. She held on tight as they sped away from the casino, her mind dark with panic.

* * *

C
OLE DIDN’T WANT
to believe that Mia was capable of betraying him.

He’d been used by his uncle and his aunt, two people he loved. He should have been able to trust them. Mia had suggested that his impulsive nature and quick temper made him easier to manipulate. She was probably right. Now that she’d opened his eyes to the extent of the problem, he wasn’t so gullible.

Cole had taken the day off, and he’d spent it deep in thought. He couldn’t accept the casino job and stay under his uncle’s thumb. He hated being an informant and answering to Vargas. Both options sucked—but so did this limbo. Cole got the feeling that Vargas was setting him up, maybe even trying to get him killed. Cole refused to choose between cooperating with a dirty cop and diving back into a life of crime. So he had to carve out a third option. With Mia or without her.

He hadn’t wanted to involve her in his criminal activities, to drag her down the way his father had dragged his mother down. He’d meant to enjoy his last evening with her by exhausting himself in her beautiful body. Instead he’d driven to King’s Castle and started a maudlin conversation. Her reaction to his uncle’s suspicions had been telling. Maybe she
was
a federal agent, playing him for a fool.

But his options were limited. His uncle knew where she lived, and Cole’s protective instincts were still strong. He had to take her somewhere private and warn her. He also had to interrogate her.

He’d noticed her squirming on the bike behind him, touching his back. Whatever she was up to, it wasn’t good. He felt it in his bones, infecting his blood and churning in his gut. The monster inside him demanded answers.

And revenge, if necessary.

Cole formed a basic plan of action. He needed help executing it, so he went to Jigsaw’s motorcycle repair shop. Jason “Jigsaw” Jones was one of Cole’s good friends. He’d been a member of Dirty Eleven as long as Cole had. Now he was married with a kid, and he owned a thriving business.

Jigsaw’s shop was on the outskirts of Indio, next door to the house where he lived with his old lady. Although it was after regular business hours, Jigsaw was inside the garage, working late on a Monday night. Cole drove straight in and parked his bike. Jigsaw looked up from the custom ride he was tinkering with.

“Shank,” he said, rising to his feet. While they dismounted, Jigsaw wiped his hands with a shop rag. He was tall and lanky, with short dark hair and a full beard. “What’s up?”

Cole greeted him with a handshake and introduced Mia. The glint in Jigsaw’s eyes said he remembered seeing Mia at the rally, and he liked what he’d seen. Cole couldn’t take offense to his friend’s appreciation, but Cole didn’t want anyone mistaking her for a whore. Even if she was one.

“I need to talk to you about that thing we discussed,” Cole said.

Jigsaw had no idea what he meant.

“In private,” Cole added, glancing at Mia. “Sorry, babe. It’ll only take a minute.”

She took off his helmet and smoothed her hair. Although she wore a cool expression, he could tell she was nervous.

Jigsaw led the way to his back office, which was next to the bathroom. Cole said he had to use the toilet and ducked inside. It was a no-frills space with a buzzing fluorescent light. As soon as he shut the door, he shrugged out of his cut and examined the surface. When he found nothing out of the ordinary, relief coursed through him. He was getting as paranoid as his uncle.

Then his fingertips brushed over a foreign object, and he froze.

What. The. Fuck.

There was a tiny black square between his patch and the bottom rocker. Cole peeled off the square, his jaw clenched tight. It resembled a computer chip or camera card. He knew exactly what it was—a listening device.

Mia had fucking
bugged
him.

Cole dropped the offending object into the toilet and flushed, holding his rage at bay. He’d unleash it soon. Very soon.

When he came out, Jigsaw was standing there.

“I need a trade-in,” Cole said. “Do you have anything fast?”

Jigsaw crossed his arms over his chest. “Is yours hot?”

Cole reached for his money clip and took out five hundred dollars. “The bike is clean, but the police will be looking for me. Just give me any piece of shit in here and let me borrow your bolt cutters.”

“Bolt cutters? Are you high?”

Cole waited, holding the money up.

Jigsaw accepted the cash, with reluctance, and the deal was done. They walked back toward the work space. “You can have this old girl,” he said, patting a beat-up Harley. “She’s not pretty, but she runs.”

Cole retrieved his backpack from the seat compartment and gave it to Mia. She looked pale and scared, just as she should. As soon as he used the bolt cutters to break free of the ankle monitor, all bets were off. He would be a fugitive from justice. It wasn’t the best spot to be in, but he had few alternatives. Vargas was out of control. Cole wouldn’t be surprised if the cop had been planning to leak evidence of Cole’s informant status and let his uncle kill him. Then Vargas could arrest Bill for murder. Motherfucker.

Cole couldn’t allow Vargas to use Mia against him, either. If Cole was going to die, he was going to die on his own terms. He’d be a thorn in Vargas’s side, lighting a match to his shitty investigation.

Jigsaw found his bolt cutters and handed them to Cole. “How much time do you have?”

“After I use these? I don’t know. Minutes, maybe seconds.”

“I guess I’ll go for a spin on your bike,” Jigsaw said, stroking his beard. “You can leave out the back.”

“I appreciate it,” Cole said.

Jigsaw shrugged. “If I’m going to get shaken down, I’d rather be on the street. My old lady will kick my ass if the cops come here and wake up the baby.”

Mia moistened her lips, glancing back and forth between them.

“What about her?” Jigsaw asked.

“She’s coming with me.”

Jigsaw spoke directly to Mia. “Are you sure about that, honey?”

Cole couldn’t fault his friend for giving her the choice. Jigsaw was following the Dirty Eleven code of conduct, and this was his garage. Cole wasn’t going to fight Jigsaw for the right to take Mia by force.

“I’m sure,” she said.

Jigsaw grabbed a half helmet and put it on. “Well, hell. I think you’re both crazy, but I’m a little jealous of this outlaw adventure.”

“Don’t be,” Cole said. “You’ve got a good thing going here.”

Jigsaw looked around at his shop. Maybe Cole’s life seemed exciting to a married man with a baby. But Cole would trade places with Jigsaw in a heartbeat. He’d trade a hot threesome for a stable relationship, and a wild escape for a safe haven.

“If they spot me and put the lights on, I’m pulling over,” Jigsaw warned. “I might not be able to buy you much time.”

“I understand,” Cole said. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Nah, I want to. Fuck the police.”

Jigsaw went inside the house to get his cut. He was about the same height as Cole, and they were wearing similar clothing. Although the beard set them apart, it was dark outside, and Jigsaw had a helmet on. If Cole was lucky, the cops would follow Jigsaw.

Cole rolled up his pant leg and the neoprene muffler. Then he mounted the Harley with Mia and started the engine. When Jigsaw handed him the bolt cutters, Cole took a deep breath and sliced through the metal band around his ankle.

Freedom.

The device clattered to the concrete. It didn’t emit an alarm, but a red light flashed in warning.

“Good luck,” Jigsaw said. “Hang on tight, honey.”

As Mia wrapped her arms around him, Cole tapped his fist against his Dirty Forever patch in salute. Jigsaw did the same. Then he climbed on the other bike and took off. Cole toed up the kickstand and went through the back door, flooring it the opposite direction. He didn’t turn on his headlamp. Staying on the side streets, he headed toward the bridge on Dillon Road. It led to a long straightaway where he could pick up speed and get the hell out of town. He’d almost reached the bridge when he spotted a black-and-white in the distance.

They were already after him.

“Fuck,” he said, executing a sharp maneuver that made Mia scream. He braked and drove down the gravel embankment, stopping under the bridge. His heart hammered as Mia’s fingertips skimmed the back of his cut. She was searching for the bug. When he squinted over his shoulder at her, she flinched.

She was an outlaw now, just like him. He’d chosen this path, and he’d brought Mia along for the ride. If she hadn’t betrayed him, he’d feel bad about risking her safety this way. As it stood, he felt nothing but cold fury and dark anticipation. He was going to fuck her twice as hard as she’d fucked him.

Knowing her, she’d enjoy it.

The police car roared over the bridge and kept going. Taking a deep breath, Cole shrugged out of his cut. He should have taken it off at Jigsaw’s, but he hadn’t thought about it. “Do you have a cell phone?”

“In my purse.”

“Give it to me.”

She twisted at the waist to give him access to the backpack. He found her purse and fished out her phone, tossing it into the gravel at his feet.

“Anything else I should know about?”

“Like what?”

“Other devices. What the fuck do you think?”

Her lips thinned with displeasure. “There’s nothing.”

He shoved her purse into his backpack, along with his cut, and secured the zipper. Then they were ready to rock ‘n’ roll. He charged up the embankment and hung a left on Dillon Road. He went fast, and not just because he had to. He did it to scare her. He wanted her to be terrified, and he embraced that twisted desire. She locked her arms around him, trembling.

They left Indio and sped toward Desert Hot Springs, entering a remote area that resembled a ghost town. There were abandoned buildings on both sides of the road, including a coin-op Laundromat that had been closed for ten years.

Cole pulled up to the Laundromat and drove through the open door. He’d come here a few times to do deals. It resembled a barn or an aircraft hangar, made from aluminum. The interior had been gutted of useful items, but there were some old washing machines inside. A few metal carts and empty sink basins. He parked by a laundry table, cutting the engine.