Wicked Ride, Page 3

  She sighed and then glanced at the face of her phone. “Interesting. Your Detective Monzelle became a cop because her daddy was a drug dealer who was arrested when she was a little girl. He’s still incarcerated.”

  Kell’s chest heated. “You ordered a background check on Alexandra?”

  “Of course, and these are just the highlights. Alexandra has a younger sister who’s, ah, in a band?” Simone pursed her lips.

  The door opened, and Alexandra strode inside, followed by a middle-aged detective wearing a hang-dog expression. Kellach swept his gaze over Alexandra. Black flats, pressed black pants, crisp white shirt, badge and gun at her waist. Her blond hair reached her shoulders, barely, and her blue eyes glimmered with intelligence. She was too fragile to be a garda, and he wondered if there were males in her family other than her incarcerated father, and if so why they were failing to protect her. No wonder she was a crusader. The slight bruise on her cheekbone still pissed Kell off.

  She slapped a file on the table and sat as her partner took the other chair. “I’m Detective Monzelle, and this is Detective Phillips.”

  Simone nodded, setting down her phone. “Simone Brightston, counsel for Mr. Dunne.”

  “You clean up nice, Alexandra,” Kellach drawled, fighting the absurd need to protect her.

  A pretty pink climbed into her face, while her gaze focused directly on Kell. “Do you understand the rights as they’ve been read to you?”

  “I do,” he murmured.

  She glanced at the very expensive suit covering Simone and raised an eyebrow, then studied Simone’s face before turning to Kellach. “You and your attorney share a resemblance. Family?”

  Simone shifted her weight. “Our situation is none of your concern, Detective. My client saved your life last night, took you to safety, and now you drag him down here under the pretense of a fishing expedition ? Shame on you.”

  Alexandra smiled pretty lips. “Definitely family. Here to protect you, huh, Dunne?”

  Actually, as a Coven Nine Enforcer, it was Kell’s job to protect Simone—with his life if necessary. “She’s pretty, but she’s fierce.” He leaned back and slid an arm across the back of Simone’s chair just in case she lost her temper and lunged. While brilliant, the spirited witch might very well say fuck it and attack, even if she was acting as his attorney.

  A slight lift of Simone’s shoulder acknowledged his warning.

  Alexandra flipped open her file. “What do you know about the drug that killed this man last night?” She spun a picture around and slid it in front of him. It was a picture of the junkie who’d died the previous night in the alley.

  Kell shrugged. “I don’t know anything about the drug. What do you know?” He kept his voice level and measured her heart rate by studying the faint vein in her neck. Man, he’d love to lick his way to where that pretty vein went.

  “You asked him about the drug, and you followed him into the alley,” Alexandra persisted. “Tell me what you know.”

  “I followed you into the alley,” he said silkily. “Sexy blue dress, high heels . . . I thought you were a lady of the evening.”

  Her eyes flashed. “Bullshit.”

  Simone coughed delicately, her lips twitching. “Detective, please watch your language.”

  “You were looking for a hooker, Mr. Dunne?” Detective Phillips muttered.

  “No,” Kell said smoothly, studying the older man. Phillips seemed relaxed and almost lazy, but sharp intelligence glimmered deep in his gaze, and his posture remained turned slightly toward Alexandra, as if ready to defend. Kell liked him immediately. “But I saw Alexandra in that dress, and I was intrigued. Long legs, smoothly toned, and I wanted more than anything to have them wrapped around me.” Yeah, he was being an ass, but prodding her was suddenly so much fun.

  Simone dug an elbow into his gut, and he bit back a grunt.

  “All right. How about we exchange information?” Alexandra rolled her eyes. “I know this drug is something new, and it gives junkies temporary strength before killing them. It’s taken in liquid form and via injection, and it’s flooding my streets. Informants tell me your motorcycle gang is the middle man, distributing this killer to the public.”

  Aye, her intel was spot on. “Have your labs broken down the components?”

  “Not yet.” A veil dropped down over her eyes. “Why don’t you tell me what it is?”

  Because the main ingredient in Apollo was a mineral that was deadly to witches. “I don’t know what it is, but I’m trying to find out.” He gave her a little information, just to keep her talking.

  She rubbed the bruise on her cheekbone. “About that. You asked the junkie last night where he’d gotten the drug, and how much he’d taken. Why?”

  “Don’t speak,” Simone said quietly. “My client followed you into the alley, saw this poor man overdosing, and naturally asked how much of a drug he’d taken. A good Samaritan, if you ask me.”

  “Right.” Fury blazed into Alexandra’s stunning eyes.

  Kell’s entire body reacted with heat, a low growl getting trapped in his chest. Such passion, such raw female power—and all human. There was no enhancement to her like human psychics or empaths, so she couldn’t mate an immortal. Only enhanced humans could mate a witch, vampire, demon, or shifter. Yet even knowing they had no future, his groin hardened, and he shifted on the uncomfortable chair. What would she look like, desire in her eyes, candlelight flickering across her delicate skin while he kissed every inch? He had a feeling once her control unraveled, she’d be wilder than any storm he’d ever ridden through. “I would’ve helped the lad.”

  Simone stiffened as he let his brogue loose. She turned and eyed him before glancing back at the detective. “Give me a break,” she muttered under her breath.

  He smiled. Though he’d never reacted to a female human so fiercely, he could do nothing but explore the overwhelming sensation.

  Alexandra leaned forward. “I’m thinking the only reason you’d ask where he acquired the drugs is because there’s a rival distributor somewhere in Seattle, and you’re looking to take it out. Right, Enforcer?”

  The woman added two plus two quickly. Smart girl.

  “I just wanted to help him, and then I realized you were in danger, too,” he said. The cops might be adding things up, but they didn’t have any concrete information. It was well worth the trip to the interrogation room, even if he did have to buy Simone a new car. “I’m sorry I can’t help you other than that.” He flattened his hands on the table, heating his hands so he wouldn’t leave prints.

  “What about the weapon?” Alexandra asked, a snap in her voice.

  What would it take to get her to lose that edge? To make her tone husky? Needy? He shifted his weight again, trying to force down his suddenly raging cock. “I didn’t have a weapon.”

  “You did.” She lowered her chin. “The other two men threw balls of fire, and I saw you return fire. You had a weapon, something new, that I haven’t discovered as of yet.”

  He leaned back. “I don’t know of any weapon that throws fireballs.” He rubbed his chin, wondering what color bra she wore. Probably tan or white, considering he couldn’t even catch a glimpse. “You hit your head, and you went down, so I’m afraid your mind is messing with you.”

  She reached in the file and shoved another set of pictures toward him. “Burn marks on the brick building, the garbage dumpsters, and even the flower pots. Burn marks.”

  He shook his head, careful not to touch the pictures. “One of the men who came into the alley did have some sort of road flares, and he tried to ignite everything. That’s when I got you out of there.”

  “Where is that man now?” Detective Phillips asked quietly.

  “I truly don’t know.” Dead and buried where he’d never be found. “I’m sorry I didn’t get his name.”

  Kell had had to take him out quickly in order to get Alexandra to safety. He’d called in a cleanup crew for the extra two bodies, while leaving the first ju
nkie. So far the human medical examiners had failed to find a trace of the drug in any corpses the drug left behind. Somehow, the thing evaporated after incinerating all the internal organs. Sometimes they couldn’t even find a centimeter of the spleen.

  Simone’s phone buzzed, and she reached into a five-thousand-dollar briefcase to draw it out. Reading the face, she shoved her chair back from the table. “This interview is over. Get up, Kellach.”

  Kell stretched to his feet, his focus narrowing at the smile twitching Alexandra’s lips. “What’s happened?”

  Simone grasped his arm. “The garages, the clubhouse, and the club apartment complex are being raided at Titans of Fire Motorcycle Club.”

  Alexandra smiled, triumph sliding across her face. “The burn marks gave me probable cause for a warrant. Enemies, right?”

  Chapter 4

  Kell leaned back in the leather chair, his gaze focusing across the banged up oak table in the club’s main conference room. The smell of sweat, motor oil, and tequila danced around.

  Pyro sat at the head, gaze somber. His nephew and vice president, Duck, sat at his side.

  Three more heavy-set, rough, angry Fire members lounged around the table, while Kell’s brother, Daire, leaned against the door, his gaze inscrutable, his eyes a blazing green.

  “How bad?” Kell asked quietly.

  “Two caught with a little meth, three with unregistered weapons,” Pyro noted. “Could’ve been helluva lot worse, if we hadn’t had those three hours to clear the place.”

  Daire nodded. “We should keep headquarters clean at all times, because I’m sure the police will be back.”

  “I say we take out that bitch of a detective,” Duck muttered in a gratingly nasal tone.

  Fire lashed through Kell, but he didn’t move. “You want to take out a policewoman? Are you fucking crazy?” He focused on Duck’s bloodshot eyes and fidgety fingers. “Or are you sampling the meth?”

  Duck hissed. “We all sample the meth, and now I want to take a try of Apollo.”

  Fucking stupid name. The drug was rumored to make the taker feel like a god by somehow giving humans witch-like powers before killing them. “The last two who tried Apollo ended up bleeding out in alleys,” Kell said.

  “Pussies,” Duck returned. He turned toward his uncle. “Have you sampled it yet?”

  “No. Wanted to flood the streets and make some money first, but next batch that arrives, we’ll sample.” Pyro shot a hard look Kell’s way. “All of us will take a hit, right?”

  “Of course,” Kell said smoothly. “When will that be, anyway?” He was running out of patience and time to get answers.

  Pyro’s lips stretched back in a parody of a smile. “Soon enough. Did you bang that bitch last night or what?”

  “Or what.” Kell kept his voice level and his expression nearly bored, when all he wanted to do was punch through Pyro’s face to the wall behind his head. “The police think we’re supplying the drug, and you’re supplying guns for our brethren back in Northern Ireland.”

  Duck chuckled. “So they have it exactly backward.”

  Stupid little fucktard had to state the obvious. Kell nodded. “Exactly.”

  “When will our next shipment of guns be arriving? We have an order from the Alaskan Crips I’d like to fill,” Pyro said.

  “Soon enough,” Kell repeated.

  Duck sneered. “What are these weapons that throw fire I keep hearing about?”

  “No such thing,” Kell said. “Must be a hallucination from Apollo.”

  Duck squinted, his beady eyes nearly bugging out. “Why do I think you’re not telling me the truth?” His nearly concave chest puffed out somewhat, and he glared.

  Kell lifted one shoulder. “Dunno.”

  Pyro frowned. “When we agreed to a merger, we agreed to full disclosure except for sources of drugs and guns. You need us for the drugs.”

  Daire shifted off the door. “You need us more.”

  “He fucking can speak,” Duck muttered.

  Daire turned his focus from Pyro to Duck, his gaze veiled, power all but cascading off his massive form.

  Duck swallowed, and red climbed into his face. Finally, his gaze dropped to his fingers, which twitched on the table. “Whatever,” he muttered. While the moron had no clue witches existed, even his dulled instincts could probably sense a predator in the room.

  Kell measured Daire’s mood, wondering at what point his oldest brother would decide to decimate the humans. Daire had a short temper, was fucking fine with that, and would have no problem erasing the problem and starting over.

  Daire focused on Kell once again and lifted an eyebrow. For Daire, that amounted to a full blown conversation.

  Kell nodded and focused back on Duck now that he’d been castrated by a Daire glare. “We’re in agreement that we do not kill police officers?”

  Duck snorted. “I say we make a statement with that bitch, if you’re done with her.”

  Actually, something whispered that Kell was nowhere done with the sexy Detective Alexandra Monzelle, human or not. “Bringing the full force of the police down on us right now would be a colossal mistake.” He aimed his statement at Pyro.

  Pyro rubbed the silver goatee on his chin. “Agreed. For now.”

  Duck sighed heavily. “Fine, but before we kill her, I want a shot at her.”

  Kell barely kept his lips from twitching. Alexandra would probably quite easily cut off Duck’s dick and feed it to him if he made a move on her. “We just agreed we’re not killing her.”

  “For now,” Duck said, his too thin upper lip curling. “I think you have a hard-on for the cop.”

  “Are we done?” Daire asked, his tone strongly suggesting that they were, in fact, done.

  Duck didn’t meet Daire’s gaze, but he did shift slightly toward his uncle. “We need to talk about the Grizzlies. They’re cutting into our gun trade, and rumor has it they have a hit out on you.”

  “Your suggestion?” Pyro asked.

  “War. Let’s make a statement,” Duck said, rubbing bony hands together.

  Pyro eyed his other men. “Anybody agree with making a statement?”

  Nobody moved.

  Finally, Pyro shook his head. “We’re flooding the streets with new product and shouldn’t split our attention or our time right now by going to war with another club.”

  Smart. Kell nodded.

  While Pyro sampled the meth and drank more tequila than a liver could handle, there was no doubt the man had risen to power with sharp intelligence and the willingness to spill blood with no remorse. Did the man know his nephew would never lead? Not smart enough.

  Sometimes family blinded a man.

  Kell cut his gaze to Daire. Yep. About to incinerate the humans. They were getting nowhere with the conversation. So Kell stood. “I’m out.”

  “Meeting adjourned,” Pyro said and shoved back from the table.

  Kell pushed open the door and wound through the clubhouse to his bike waiting outside. Daire’s Ducati waited silently next to it, dark and somehow deadly. The Ducati had taken a bit of ribbing from the other club members, but as usual, Daire didn’t give a shit. He blended in by not trying to blend in, and always had.

  Daire reached him. “Wanna ride?”

  “Aye.” Kell straddled his bike, wanting nothing more than to feel the wind against his face.

  “Is yer cop gonna be a problem?” Daire asked.

  “Aye.” The pretty Alexandra was definitely going to be a problem, but how much of one, he wasn’t sure.

  Daire’s face split in a rare—very rare—grin. “To you or to our mission?”

  Kell paused and lifted his head. “Both.”

  “This is a shitty idea, Lex,” Bernie muttered for the seventh time, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. They’d turned off the interstate long ago, and quiet forestland surrounded them.

  She nodded. “I know.” Then she grinned at the man who was more father to her than the bastard who’d deserte
d her. “You trained me, buddy. What do you expect?”

  Bernie shook his head. “I got four girls at home, women now, and you in my life. Pretty much five daughters. What the hell did I ever do to God?”

  Lex laughed. “You must’ve been somebody really bad in a past life.” When she’d been assigned as Bernie’s partner years ago, as a rookie, he’d instantly taken a serious approach to teaching her how to survive. After many close scrapes, tons of arrests, and way too many stakeouts, she couldn’t love him any more than she did. “But I agree, this is a little crazy.”

  “Then let’s turn around and head back to the station.” Bernie twisted his neck to look up at the sky through the front window of his nondescript Cutlass. “There’s a hell of a storm moving in, and we can get that paperwork done.” Thunder bellowed high above as if in agreement.

  She wiped her damp palms on her faded jeans as the trees flew by outside. Pine and the smell of oncoming rain filled her senses. While she understood Bernie’s reluctance to getting shot so close to his retirement, she had a feeling about this case. “We have to get those drugs off the streets, and while this is risky, I think it’s worth a chance.”

  “You’re gonna get us both fired. Or dead.” Bernie was six months from retirement, and he was, in a word, done. Grumbling under his breath about missing breakfast, he turned down the long, asphalted private road leading to the Grizzlies’ clubhouse. “We’re trespassing, we don’t have no warrant, and the brass is already looking at us for the botched mission the other night. You know? When our mark ended up dead in an alley, and my partner ended up at Fire?”

  She rolled her eyes and straightened her black leather jacket, which nicely covered the gun holstered near her ribs. “The gang task force has investigated the Grizzlies for a decade, and not once has anything illegal popped up. The majority of motorcycle clubs in the country are clean and made up of good guys, Bern.”

  “Titans of Fire ain’t clean.” Bernie rolled down his window and spit out his gum. “Even if the Grizzlies are clean, they ain’t gonna help the cops against another gang.”

  “Club. They’re clubs.”