Night Fire (Nightriders MC Book 3) Read online

  I tensed and sat up straighter but before I could say anything, Smoke wrapped his hand around mine under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “I’m a…consultant,” he drawled.

  Lindsay’s nose crinkled as she eyed him, taking in his attire. He’d switched out his leather vest for his leather jacket. He wore black biker boots, black jeans, and a black T-shirt. The patches might as well have been neon signs. “You must not be a very good one.”

  Smoke squeezed my hand again and tugged, causing me to look at him. He was smiling at Lindsay. I recognized that smile—a cat playing with a bird before it pounced. I settled back into my chair.

  “I’m very good at what I do, Lindsay. And it pays very well. I also believe in that old saying—what you see is what you get.” His gaze flicked to Justin. “Unlike some people.”

  Lindsay being Lindsay couldn’t let it go. I finally diverted her attention by pumping for her information about the wedding—ostensibly the reason for this dinner meet-up. And, Lindsay being Lindsay, she took that conversation bull by the horns and ran with it.

  The waiter returned and asked about dessert. Smoke ordered Boston Creme Pie without asking but he flashed me one of those “trust-me” looks he was becoming famous for. I’d never had it but from the description in the dessert menu—white cake, vanilla creme filling, chocolate icing? Oh, yeah. I was all over that. I still wanted to know why it was called pie, though. While we waited for dessert to be served, Lindsay demanded I go to the bathroom with her.

  Smoke stood, held my chair. Justin sprawled in his chair pretty much ignoring my sister. She huffed at him and pushed against his chair to squeeze past. Smoke dropped a kiss on the back of my neck as I edged past him and I had the sudden urge to forget dessert and just go home.

  “More fun with Dick and Jane,” he murmured just loud enough for me to hear.

  I choked, just managing to cover my laugh. Lindsay’s glare scorched me so I meekly followed her to the ladies room.

  The door hadn’t shut all the way before she whirled to face me. Her stormy expression was just the precursor.

  “How could you!” she demanded. I dropped onto the cushy couch, leaned back, and crossed my legs and arms. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m settling in for the tantrum.”

  If she’d been a cartoon character, steam would be coming from her ears.

  “You are not funny, Leigh. How could you embarrass me in front of Justin like this?”

  “How did I embarrass you, Lindsay? Oh…you mean because my boyfriend knows more about wine than yours?”

  “No! Wait. Boyfriend? Since when do you have a boyfriend?”

  Her tone insinuated that I was somehow incapable of getting and/or keeping one. “Since I met Smoke.”

  “Smoke?” She sneered. “What kind of name is that? And what does he really do for a living?”

  Sadly, I didn’t have real answers to those questions but I could ad lib with the best. “Smoke is his kind of name and just what he said. He’s a consultant. Like a troubleshooter.” Yeah. He’d told me he worked for the Nightrider’s national president as a troubleshooter. At the time, I’d quipped something stupid like, “Yeah? So when there’s trouble, he sends you in to shoot it?” I’d laughed but he’d turned serious, shaking his head. “No. That’s why he has Gravedigger.” I’d shut up after that and never asked again. Now I was having to defend him against my sister.

  “He’s probably one of your criminals and you just made him come so you could embarrass Justin! And me!” That last word turned into a wail and crocodile tears welled in her eyes.

  “Jeez, Lindsay. Stop being such a drama queen.” I pushed off the couch and strode to the door. The shocked look on her face was sadly satisfying. What did that say about me as a sister?

  I wolfed down my dessert, ignored the coffee and was all but bouncing in my chair from the urge to leave. When the bills finally arrived, Smoke snatched both from under Justin’s hand. Man, he had some reflexes. He took a cursory look at the total, reached into his pocket and pulled out several hundred dollar bills. When the waiter returned, Smoke placed a single hundred on the tray with the bill for the wine he’d ordered. “For the sommelier,” Smoke told him.

  The waiter had already tallied up the tip on his tray and he smiled at Smoke. “Of course, sir. Thank you for your patronage.”

  I could not get out of that place fast enough. While we waited for my Highlander to be brought up by the valet, Smoke pulled me into his arms and kissed me. Hard. Leaving me breathless. And really sorry we’d had dessert instead of going home.

  Bang. Bang-bang-bang! BANG!

  Chapter 8

  Smoke

  I HEARD THE HARLEY gunning down the street and took Leigh to the ground as five shots rang out. I kicked the feet out from under the valet standing there with his mouth hanging open. Fortunately, the doorman was quick on the uptake and had the people in line behind us safely back inside the building.

  To say I was pissed was an understatement. I wanted to shift to track the fucker but my wolf was dead set on staying with Leigh. He reminded me that we had an audience and shifting into wolf form would not be a smart idea. I didn’t let her up until I was sure a second attack wasn’t coming. By then, sirens were echoing off the buildings as flashing lights painted their facades. Three cop cars skidded to a stop in front of the restaurant.

  My first instinct was to dismiss the shooting as kids and firecrackers when the cops asked. Too bad the gunman had hit the building. Evidence like that couldn’t be ignored. As I figured they would, the cops separated me from Leigh. I leaned up against one of the squad cars, ankles crossed, thumbs hooked in my front pockets, and watched her. When she got wound up, she got animated. Her hands flicked and flailed. I didn’t need to hear her—I could of course, but her expression said everything I needed to know. The fact she was “on the job” helped slightly but the cops sure didn’t like the idea of her being with me. Tough shit. She was mine.

  I answered questions—barely. Most of my attention was focused on the shooter and the biker. There’d been two—one driving, one on the back firing. Neither had been wearing colors. If they’d been Hell Dogs, they would have circled around to make sure of the kill. I didn’t want to think about the alternative. A real Nightrider wouldn’t go after a brother this way, would never disgrace his cut like this. But there were all those hang-arounds congregating with Boner. I needed to find out a hellava lot more about the president of the Dallas chapter.

  It was midnight before the cops turned us loose. I put Leigh to bed, planning to wait until she was asleep before heading to the Dallas clubhouse. We’d just settled in when her cell phone rang. She popped up like she was on a spring.

  “Daniels.”

  I listened to both sides of the conversation. Ah the perks of being a Wolf. There was another fire. She ordered me to stay put as she jerked on coveralls and shoved her feet into boots. Her kit was already stashed in the FD sedan parked out front.

  She stuffed her phone in a chest pocket and turned to me. “Not sure when I’ll get back. I’ll probably go straight to the arson office once I’m clear of the scene. I’ll see you back here for dinner tonight?”

  I grabbed the coveralls by the unzipped plackets and hauled her to me. Kissing her hard, she was breathless when I let her go. “Take care of you.”

  Spinning her around, I sent her toward the bedroom door with a pat on her ass. She glanced back, laughing and rolling her eyes. “You know, there’s just something surreal about going off to a fire scene after getting kissed by a naked man.

  She was still laughing when she closed and locked the front door. I was two minutes behind her but being on a bike meant I’d beat her there. I needed to check it out before too many other scents fucked things up.

  I shifted near the scene and it didn’t take me long to locate the arsonist’s trail coming and going from the building. He’d used a vacant lot and some trees for cover. I tracked him going toward th
e building but one of the firefighters saw me and yelled. I ducked away, trying to act like a dog.

  Cutting through the empty lot, I discovered the Nightrider cut—with my name sewn on it—hidden in the weeds where it would be found come daylight. I also located where the asshole had parked. From the tire treads, probably a pickup. I had his personal scent now. He smelled of stale beer, marijuana, gasoline, with an underlying layer of stagnant water. I’d be able to pick him out of a crowd and that’s what I aimed to do.

  It was way past time to pay the Dallas clubhouse another visit.

  Leigh

  THIS WAS THE FOURTH warehouse fire in this area in the past month. I leaned against the district chief’s car and watched the guys put up a defensive fight. There was no reason for them to make an interior push and chance getting hurt if the roof or a wall collapsed. They already had a good knockdown on it and I was pretty sure I’d find some evidence once I got access.

  I yawned just as the chief’s driver walked up. He had a Styrofoam cup in each hand and offered me one. I sniffed. Coffee. Great. I needed the caffeine.

  “I have creamer and sugar in my pocket,” he offered.

  Taking a sip, I nodded. “This is fresh but I like a little sweet. One packet will do me.” He passed it over, I dumped it and used the folded-up paper to stir. I took another sip. Good enough.

  One of the guys yelled and I looked up just in time to see a large dog run into the weeds of the lot next door. The thing looked familiar but I couldn’t figure out why. I didn’t make it a habit of hanging out in this part of Dallas. An industrial area on the decline, I made a note to check on owners, mortgage holders, leasees—anyone who could profit by having the place burned out. I added real estate developers to my list. I didn’t think this area was a candidate for redevelopment but what did I know?

  About two hours after I hit the scene, the chief cleared me to enter the warehouse and came with me. The damage wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated. I swept the beam of my flashlight across the space, highlighting a stack of stuff. I exchanged a look with him. “Better notify the cops. They’ll want to see this.”

  I stared at bundles that stank like marijuana and other brick-sized lumps wrapped in plastic and duct tape. There was paraphernalia that had to be drug related. “Do you think they were cooking meth?” That meant we’d have to call the HazMat team and go through decontamination.

  “Naw. No glass jars or tubing. I think this was a distribution center, that’s all.”

  Poking through the debris, I glimpsed some melted plastic with wires. A trigger? I pulled Latex gloves on over my work gloves and poked at the device. A twinge of recognition niggled the back of my memory. I opened my evidence kit and using large tweezers, dug the thing out and placed it in an evidence bag. I’d have to do some research. For the first time, I thought I might have a handle on the arsonist. Drugs. Did the guy have a vendetta against drugs? Or was this something a bit more incendiary—war between dealers and their gangs. I for sure needed to hook up with my cop buddies.

  Smoke

  I RODE UP to the clubhouse and got a sneer from the provisional—a human—guarding the gate. Yeah, the Russian and Gravedigger needed to pay these assholes and their president a visit. Soon.

  Parking my bike, I strolled inside like I owned the place. My wolf was bigger and badder than Boner’s so I could challenge but who wanted the hassle? Not me. That’s why my cut said NOMAD. Boner was sitting on a chair that looked a lot like a throne. A topless woman sat on one arm while a second woman’s head bobbed up and down in the bastard’s lap.

  Sex in the clubhouse was a given and I could mostly ignore it. I preferred my fucking private but far be it for me to harass a brother for getting his rocks off. The problem as I saw it was that these were the only two females present and everyone else was standing there watching—like they’d been ordered to. Sick bastard.

  I headed to the bar and grabbed a beer from the cooler, twisted off the cap then headed back outside. Bikes weren’t the only vehicles in the lot and I wanted to check out a pickup I’d seen tucked back in the shadows.

  Sure enough, the treads matched but the only scent I could pick up was gasoline and ammonia. Even as good as my nose was, I couldn’t penetrate the overwhelming stench. That was fine. I had other ways to track—like the small GPS device in my pocket. I slapped it under the back bumper and wandered back into the clubhouse. The show was over and the brothers had bellied up to the bar. The two sweet butts were serving drinks.

  Boner caught my eye and waved me toward the backroom he used as an office. This would be fun. As I stepped through the door, a shape rushed me from the left. I ducked, twisted, and put my shoulder into the guy’s solar plexus with enough force to empty his lungs. I dumped him on the floor and stamped my boot on his throat.

  I growled, “Move and I’ll break your neck.” I didn’t look at him. I was too busy staring down Boner. Shit. I needed backup. Like yesterday. I slammed the door and locked it. That would keep any but the most determined of his people out. The guy under my boot was not a Wolf. Had he been, we’d still be fighting.

  “What the fuck, Boner.”

  “If you think you can walk in here and take over, asshole, you’re wrong.”

  Laughing, I shook my head at his idiocy. “You seen the back of my cut? I’m a lone Wolf, you asshole. I don’t want you’re fucking chapter.” I wanted to throw the Russian in his face but I couldn’t tip my hand—not this early in the game. Not until I knew what was happening and had something solid to report. But I was starting to wonder. Were the Nightriders getting set up by Hell Dogs or by men who were supposed to be brothers? And where were the drugs getting roasted in the arson fires coming from?

  “I know who you are, fucker. The gawddamned Russian holds your leash. You tell ’im that if he wants me, he can come challenge me his own damn self.”

  Yeah, I wouldn’t have to worry about Boner too much longer. He’d just signed his own death warrant. I held my hands out, splayed at waist level in a conciliatory gesture. “Ease down, dude. Since when was a brother on the road not welcome in a chapter clubhouse?”

  “My clubhouse, my rules.”

  “Whatever, Boner. I’m outta here.” I glanced down at the hanger-on under my boot. “Don’t move.” His eyes were wide as he as he blinked in acknowledgment. Boner growled something about him being a pussy. Better a live pussy than a dead idiot.

  I put my boot on the floor, pivoted and opened the door. A couple more humans stood there, trying to look mean. I let my wolf out to play—just enough for them to see the predator in my expression. They all but pissed themselves getting out of my way. A couple of the brothers offered quick nods as I passed. Good to know at lease some had my back.

  Six blocks away, I pulled into a convenience store. Five minutes later, two brothers rode up. We nodded a greeting and waited in silence. Another five passed then a solitary rider arrived—Rook, Boner’s VP.

  “We need to talk.”

  Yeah, no shit.

  Chapter 9

  Smoke

  I HEADED to Leigh’s house about noon. I figured she’d still be at work and I wanted some down time to do some planning. No fuckin’ way I’d stay at the Dallas clubhouse—not after my little run-in with Boner. He’d probably try to slit my throat while I slept. Not that he was good enough.

  The POS red sedan was absent when I pulled up at the condo. I’d have a couple of hours to touch base with The Russian and see about getting some back-up in place, in case I needed it. My cell buzzed as I walked through the front door. Leigh.

  “Hey, babe.”

  “Where are you?”

  “You’re place. You comin’ home?”

  I could almost feel her deep sigh through the cell. “I wish. I have to go see some cops about the drug warehouse that burned last night.”

  “Fun times.” Not. And I had to admit I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Leigh dragging the cops into this situation.

  “Um…Smoke?”r />
  Something in her tone was off. “What?”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Shit. “Yeah.” Just because she asked didn’t mean I’d answer.

  Another sigh, and this one went straight to my dick. “Do you…I mean…”

  “Spit it out, babe.” I had an idea where she was headed.

  “You don’t…use, do you?” She sounded small and uncertain and like she hated to ask. Thank fuck.

  “No.” I answered swift and sure. I didn’t use that crap. Some of the brothers did, not that there was any lasting effect. Wolf physiology and metabolism burned that shit up. We didn’t get high. Same with alcohol and cigarettes. We did those because we liked the taste.

  She let out a relieved breath. “Okay. Good. But…um…do you, by chance, maybe know…”

  “I don’t know the players in Dallas, babe. I could ask around if that’s what you want.” Not that I would. I knew exactly who the players were. Hell Dogs, a couple of gangs—black and Hispanic, and the local Nightriders. Boner had never been one to expand. The Dallas club had two sources of income—running drug shipments and the chop shop that operated under the guise of the salvage yard. Bloody short-sighted if you asked me.

  “Would you?”

  “For you, babe? Sure.”

  I wondered again where those stashes of drugs had come from. That was a big hit to the cash flow for someone. And if this whole thing was some stupid Boner plan? Who was he stealing the drugs from? That would come back to bite us all in the ass eventually.

  I dialed the Russian. We had a lot to discuss.

  Leigh

  “WE GOT A TIP on the hotline.” My boss, Captain Fielder, stuck his head around the wall of my cubicle. He was no relation to the baseball player but the two could pass for brothers. Like Prince, Fielder was large and affable with a complexion the color of expensive milk chocolate.

  “Yeah?”

  He handed me a sheet of paper. “Yeah. Someone saw two people at the scene. A guy in a red pickup truck and a guy on a Harley.” I didn’t breathe for a minute, then remembered Smoke had been with me.