STRIKE: Storm Runners Motorcycle Club 2 (SRMC) (10 page)

“Good.” Mandi pushed her hair back out of her eyes. “I could use it.” The pain of the man she’d cared for rejecting her in the face of his parents was still there, shadowing her face. Grace wished she could wipe it away, but knew only time could. “Get back out there and push the stupid liquor,” she said, bumping her hip into Grace’s.

Another hour passed and the crowd thinned, but just barely. She’d gone backstage to get a drink of water and redo her lipstick when it happened. It was only through luck and the shine of the lights on her bright blonde hair that Grace saw it in the first place.

Mandi was standing near the back exit—the fire exit that hadn’t been hooked up to an alarm almost ever. The one that led to the alley. She was talking to a man—the one she’d pointed out earlier, Grace thought. And then he reached out and grabbed her arm roughly.

Grace took a step forward, looking to Tom and the bouncer, both of whom were looking elsewhere. Then her heart stopped when the man yanked Mandi against him, leaning back against the door release and using the momentum to pull them both into the alley.

Her heart started again, the pulse like a drum beat propelling her forward. Even as she grabbed her jacket, she stepped out of the heels that slowed her down, made her a target. Grace pushed through the crowd, wrapping the jacket around herself. Moving faster than she’d moved since the first time she’d stepped foot in the Ladies Night. But it wasn’t fast enough. Every second some bruiser got in her way was a second that Mandi was in danger.

Bursting into the alley, a mixture of relief and fear rushed through her. Mandi had thrown herself down, grabbing for anything that would keep her from being pulled into the back of the waiting car.

“Stop,” Grace called out. Mandi looked up and screamed, her eyes filled with tears that smeared her makeup over her face. The man released his grip on Mandi’s arm and reached toward the opening of his jacket.

“Don’t move,” Grace said, still desperate to move closer, to get to where she could grab Mandi and force her away from the man. The sound of the door closing gently behind her didn’t even register over the thud of her heart and Mandi’s broken sobs. “Don’t move. I will shoot.” The gun was as natural in her hand as it had been since the academy, the stance more ingrained than any of her dance moves.

The man moved.

Grace fired.

It struck the man in the arm and he grunted, then went backwards, into the car. It pulled away fast—the driver was at the ready—but she still went after it, firing two shots through the rear window. “God damn it,” she said, then leapt back with a strangled cry when another bullet raced past her and shattered the window just as the car turned out of the alley.

“Who are you?”

She turned and saw Tom standing at the door, his own weapon at his side. His eyes were dark and there was no hint of warmth on his face. Grace thought back to her plan to tell him the truth once the investigation was done, the hope he would forgive her.

There was no forgiveness here.

“What?”

“Who are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You carry a gun.”

“Everyone does. It’s Detroit.”

“Not everyone is a cop, though,” he said. “Was this some kind of setup? Trying to infiltrate the club and find out all our dirty secrets?” He moved toward her and holstered his weapon. She did the same, then winced when his fingers dug into her arms. “Was this all some fucking game to you?”

“I’m not a cop,” she said, but the words sounded weak even to her. Grace wanted him to know the truth, but the investigation… “Why would you--?”

“Stop the bullshit,” Tom said. “I know a cop when I see one. I can usually pick them out of a crowd. I know the gun. I know the way they call out before they shoot. You’re a god damn cop.” He laughed and shook his head, disgust crossing his face. “You saw me and, what, figured you had a way into the club that other cops didn’t? Thought that because I want to fuck you, I’d tell you secrets about us?”

“I’m not here for you,” she said, shaking him off and stepping back. Grace ignored the pain that ripped through her at his words, because nothing with him had been a lie—except the details of her life. Her name. “And this isn’t what matters right now.” She crossed to Mandi and leaned down, helping her friend up. “Tell Peter what happened and that Mandi and I won’t be back tonight,” she told Tom. Then she wrapped her arm around her friend and led her back into the club to gather their purses before they got a cab away from the Ladies Night and what had almost happened there.

When she looked back from the window of the cab, she saw Tom standing on the sidewalk, watching her go. A low shiver cramped her stomach, but she wrapped her arm around Mandi and directed the cabbie to Mandi’s apartment, so she could take her statement and help her friend calm down.

Even though it meant leaving the man she was pretty sure she’d fallen in love with behind on the cold pavement, hating her.

CHAPTER 13

“
W
hat happened?” She pulled the blankets up around Mandi’s stomach and handed her a hot mug of tea she’d made while her friend showered. It was funny to see Mandi in cloud-covered pajama pants and a t-shirt with a moon on it. The whole fluffy pink bedroom and the girlish pajamas were so different from the glamourous sex kitten she’d known for months.

“He was so nice,” she said. Tears gathered in her eyes but she didn’t let them fall. “He talked to me and said my dancing was the best he’d ever seen. And he said he thought I was so pretty.”

“What happened when he pulled you outside?”

“I’d invited him out to eat with us,” she said, “but he had a party he needed to be at. Something late. Exclusive. I asked if you and Tom could come with us, but he said he only had a pass for one. So I declined and then…” She trailed off and took a sip of the tea, sighing as she leaned back against her pillows. “It’s like his whole personality changed. His eyes were so cold and he asked me to walk him to the door to say goodbye. I almost didn’t want to because his face was like ice, but I did anyway. And then he pulled me through and into the alley.”

“Did he say anything?”

“He called me a whore. A bitch. He didn’t say anything else. Just to get in the car and to shut up.” She set the tea on the white bedside table and lifted her hand to her face, barely running her fingers over the bruise that was blooming on her cheek. “He hit me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She’d brought in an ice pack and spread some cooling gel over the bruise on Mandi’s face, but it had to ache. “I’ll talk to Peter tomorrow. You’re going to have to take time off.”

“I don’t want to take time off.”

“But you need to. I don’t know if the man who tried to take you will come back for you. I got the plates, but that doesn’t help us.” She’d called the chief while Mandi was in the shower, since she was still reporting only to him. He’d texted her moments later that the plates had been reported as stolen, but they’d still follow up with the owner to make sure the report was legitimate. She already knew in her gut it would be.

The lights of Detroit shined outside of Mandi’s window. It would never be dark here like it could be in northern California, she thought. Too much light pollution. More than once, she’d thought about moving out to the suburbs, but it was better to stay close to work. Even when she didn’t feel like she was
really
helping anyone here. It would get better.

It had to get better.

“I’m scared,” Mandi admitted. “But I don’t like to run away.”

“This is one of those times when self-preservation is better than being brave,” Grace said, settling back against the headboard. “If he comes back and I don’t see him, or I’m not there, I can’t protect you.”

“Which is your job, right?” Mandi’s bruised face was open and soft as she looked at Grace. There were no judgements there. “I heard what Tom said to you. Is it true?”

“Yes,” Grace admitted, and finally said what she had been wanting to for months. “We think the woman who was kidnapped from the club was part of the larger rash of abductions taking place in Detroit. It’s been hard to find the information we need, so my chief put me in undercover to find out what I could.”

“How has it gone?”

“Not well,” Grace said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Nothing turned up until tonight, and I’m not sure if any of the information I got at the scene was useful. But saving you was worth all the months in the club. I’m glad I was there.”

“Me too.” Both women fell silent, and Grace wondered if Mandi was thinking about how things could have gone, the way she was. It would have been so easy for her to be a second too slow, or for Mandi to not have fought when they tried to put her in the car. If Grace had been elsewhere in the club with no access to her gun, the man might have taken both of them if she had intervened.

“So what’s your real name?” Mandi asked.

“Grace,” she said. She reached for the mug in Mandi’s hands and took a sip before handing it back. “What’s yours?”

“Mandy with a –y,” she said. “I think dropping it and adding an –i would work better for the club.”

“It did.” Grace smiled at her and tried to let the nerves from what had happened finish their slow crawl down her spine. She didn’t want to be scared. She didn’t want to imagine how things could have gone wrong, or to replay the look on Tom’s face when she turned and saw the knowledge of what she was like a sickness in his eyes.

“Did you notice anything distinguishing about the man who tried to take you?” Grace asked. Mandi had slid down on the mattress and was resting her head on the pillows. It seemed like the pills she’d taken were going to knock her out soon, and Grace would leave then to deal with the chief, and with Peter. To decide if she could stay at the club with Tom knowing who and what she was.

“Nothing,” she said. “He looked like anyone else. I saw the man driving the car, and he did too.  Dark hair. Dark eyes. Just another man.”

“Just another man,” Grace echoed.

“How can an ordinary person be so evil?”

“I wish I knew.” Mandi sighed and leaned her head against Grace’s leg, her eyes fluttering. As her breathing evened and deepened, Grace slid out, replacing her leg with a pillow before she checked the locks and walked out the door. On the street, she saw the car sent from the precinct to keep an eye on Mandi’s building until they were sure the men wouldn’t come for her again.

Wrapping her coat more tightly around herself, Grace walked away and headed toward her superior’s apartment. It wasn’t far, and he’d requested that they meet there instead of at the station.

She spent most of the walk thinking about Tom, despite her promise to herself that she’d hold that in until she was home. The night wind was cold enough that her body ached and she pulled her arms tighter around herself to warm off the chill.

He hated her. That much was clear. Even though she’d never intended to do so, her very presence was a threat to the club he held most dear. The few words he’d said about the Storm Runners and about his father made it clear that they held the highest priority in his life. When her affiliations were revealed to him, she’d become one of them—the enemies threatening his club.

As far as she knew, the Storm Runners weren’t on the radar for anything specific. Like most motorcycle clubs, the police knew about them and kept an eye on their activities from time to time, but she didn’t recall that they were involved in any of the real trouble in the city. It wasn’t that she condoned drugs or arms running, but those were things she understood. Crimes that led to money, which no one ever seemed to have enough of.

They weren’t involved in the disappearing women, she told herself. No way. No how. A man like Tom would never make his money on the backs of innocent victims. So he had nothing to fear from her.

But she knew he wouldn’t see it the same way she did.

When she finally reached the house, she knocked quietly and was let in almost immediately. Fast enough that she knew he’d been waiting by the door.

“Welcome, officer. Come on in.”

He shut the door behind her and she followed him into his home office. It was more comfortable than she’d have expected from the efficient, stern man, a marvel of plush black leather and dark wood furniture. Bookshelves stuffed with books and other ephemera lined the walls and the light was dim, coming from a lamp on the desk and another on a side table.

“My wife is asleep,” he said. “I’d rather not wake her for this. What happened?”

She gave him a rundown of the situation at the Ladies Night and then went into a deeper explanation of her activities there lately. He listened, occasionally stopping her to ask a question or request more details. When she was done, he sat back in his chair and studied her.

“Do you think you need to be pulled out?”

“Not particularly,” she said. “Worst case scenario, it makes me more of a target than the other women, which isn’t a bad thing.”

“Why is that?”

“We aren’t getting anywhere, sir. It’s been months and more women have been taken—I can’t be everywhere at once and I know you said this operation isn’t well-funded as it is.”

He sighed and considered her, then blew air hard out of his nose. “It’s not just unfunded,” he said. “It’s off the books.”

“What? Why?” A tightness raced up her back and had her sitting up straighter in the chair.

“I don’t know who to trust,” he said. “I have a few people in the department with honesty that’s above reproach working on the problem. Everyone else thinks those people are suspended, working other cases or on leave.”

“Why?”

“I knew a woman. A working girl downtown who used to give me information before I made chief. She was a good informant—maybe the best CI I ever had. Not on drugs. Quiet and kept her head down. I can’t say I liked her career choice, but she was a good woman. And then one day she was gone.”

“She was taken?”

“Almost a year ago. I’d passed her to a detective as a CI, because she’s a good enough source of information and she didn’t mind doing it. When she was first reported missing, I thought maybe giving us information had caught up to her. But it made me look deeper—made me see for the first time that something else was happening. That there was a pattern.”

“That doesn’t explain why the case isn’t an active one.”

“When I pressed for more manpower to investigate her disappearance, I hit roadblocks. One after another from the highest levels. Two people who promised information to one of the men currently working the case disappeared after he logged the meetings. Over there months, it became clear that someone in the department was working against us.”

“Working with human traffickers?”

“It’s big money, officer, and a fat bank account has convinced more htan one man to do evil. But I kept thinking about Gloria and I couldn’t let it go, even though I was told more than once that a missing stripper or hooker wasn’t worth the effort I was putting in. I never did agree with that sentiment, but you know as well as I do that when a woman goes missing, her socioeconomic status is a major factor in how much airtime she’ll get.”

“I know,” Grace murmured. It was unfair, but middle and upper class white women got substantially more screen time and resources committed to them than other women.

“For the most part, they’ve taken women who wouldn’t be missed. Right before I put you on the case, there was an incident at a house in the city where they found 20 or more women who were reportedly about to be shipped overseas. This thing is big and we can’t walk away from it, no matter whose pockets are getting lined.”

“So you took it off the books?”

“I’m running it myself with a small team of people who I can trust. People who have no contact with each other. I don’t know what else to do. Once we have some real answers, I’ll pull in a state or federal agency and hopefully we can root out some of the corruption in the city.”

“It sounds like a lot of work. Dangerous work.” She’d always had a soft spot for the chief, but her level of respect for him grew as she looked at his shadowed face over the cluttered surface of his desk.

“It is. But that’s what we’ve sworn to do. We serve and protect. You did that tonight, and I’m proud of you.”

Some of the chill that had seeped in dissipated at his words and she smiled. “You can go back to the Ladies Night if you’re sure your friend won’t say anything. If you’re sure it’s the best place for you.”

“At least we know they hunt there now.”

“I think they hunt everywhere. There’s a chance your intervention will convince them it isn’t safe to look for women there anymore.”

“Maybe. But to him, I was just a stripper who happened to carry. I was still in costume.”

“Let’s hope he saw you that way. In any case, ask Peter about an exchange with other clubs. Sometimes they switch girls for a few nights. Maybe you can get a better overview of the situation that way.”

“I’ve done some exchanges already, but I’ll ask to increase them. Good idea, chief.” He nodded, dismissing her, and she started to stand, then stopped. “What did you tell the police guarding her apartment?”

“Your friend?” She shook her head. “I told them that she’d been threatened and there was a chance her ex-boyfriend would bother her. Thank you for sending someone to watch over her.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t worry, though. Most of the time, these men aren’t looking for specific women. The only incident we’ve had where a woman was specifically targeted was when one of the enforcers became obsessed with a local girl and took her.”

“The one that was brought to the hospital after the raid on that house earlier this year?”

“Yes,” he said. “She gave us what information she could. But her being taken was the result of the dead man’s very specific obsession. Not them looking for a specific type. As far as we can tell, if the woman is young and attractive, the type doesn’t matter very much.”

“Thank you, sir.” Worry for Mandi was like a spider gnawing on the back of her skull, and his words helped unclamp the jaws a little bit.

“You’re welcome. Can I get you a cab?”

“I’ll walk.”