Night Fire (Nightriders MC Book 3) Read online

  “Eyes up, dude.”

  I swear I wasn’t looking there. I tend to stare at my boots when I’m thinking and I was thinking pretty damn hard at the moment. She thought I was all about her tits. Well, I was, but I’m a guy. We’re always all about tits. At the moment, though, hers weren’t the top thing on my mind. Still, two could play sex games.

  “When I drive that point home, babe, you’ll be all over me like—”

  “Shut up, Smoke.”

  I didn’t reply. She lasted about 45 seconds. “So what is the point, if not…” She waved a hand in the area of my belt buckle.

  “The question is exactly the point. I want to know where you got your info.” Her lips thinned as she turned stubborn. Then something else occurred. I studied her, curious now. “Why you?”

  “Why me what?”

  “Back at the boathouse, you said that wasn’t my trigger, wasn’t the Ghost’s. Why would you recognize the Ghost’s trigger? And why would you automatically link me to him?” I was pretty damn sure I wasn’t on anyone’s radar. The Ghost? That was an altogether different situation.

  She dug her boot toe in the dirt and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Cold case I was researching. The arsonist used a trigger like the one I found at the warehouse fire.” She pursed her lips, glanced up and looked me right in the eye. “The one where you showed up after I almost hit that dog…” Her voice trailed off and she looked speculative.

  “I didn’t set that fire, Leigh.” Her scowl deepened. “I was there, yeah, but after it started.” I studied her and her gaze skittered away. “So you put two and two together about the triggers.” I sighed inwardly. She was not going to let this go. “I’m not the Ghost, babe. And I don’t have a signature MO.” I did—from my days in the sandbox but that was then. “I also don’t do arson for hire.” Or for fun. I wasn’t a firebug—not in the psychological sense. Arson was club business.

  “You have a fan club.”

  I stared at her. Talk about a non-sequitur shift of topic.

  “Seriously. On the ’net. There are fan sites and your name kept coming up. Well, not your name but The Ghost’s.” She made air quote marks with her fingers and emphasized the name like both words were capitalized. “They say no one ever died at your hands. That you were an avenger for justice.”

  I sobered. “I’ve killed, babe. Plenty of times.”

  “But that was war, right? When you were a marine?”

  “This is war too.”

  “Swear to me, Smoke. Swear you aren’t part of this case.”

  “I didn’t start the fires, but I’m involved. Those assholes dragged me in.”

  She rubbed her hands down the wet material hugging her thighs. Then her chin came up as if she’d made a decision. “Okay then. Let’s go catch the bad guys.”

  Yeah, they were dead men walking.

  Chapter 11

  Leigh

  I FELT LIKE a total sleaze as I handed over the fingerprint I’d lifted from a glass Smoke drank from at my house. I’d just spent two hours getting the down and dirty on the local biker gangs. The Nightriders weren’t a huge presence. They had about twenty members and were small-time drug runners for some of the cartels and were on Auto Theft’s radar because of the salvage yard. The other major gang, the Hell Dogs had a bigger impact. They ran prostitution rings, drugs, guns, and if rumor was correct, murder for hire. Awesome.

  Smoke made no bones about being an outlaw biker. I knew I was walking a very thin line by getting involved with him but I just couldn’t stay away. The man was far too sexy, and I sensed something honorable about him. Totally weird, but still. Given all the evidence to the contrary, my heart trusted him on an instinctual level. That scared me.

  Then to discover that my suspicions about his arson expertise were correct? When I’d tossed out that I knew he was an arsonist, I’d expected his patented “Babe.” I didn’t get that. I got that he’d been an EOD tech in the Marines and following the logic, he was more than likely the serial arsonist the Internet called “The Ghost.”

  All I knew was that he called himself Smoke. I wanted to know everything. Every wart. So I sneaked the fingerprint and I took it and some general questions to my buddies in the DPD gang unit.

  “Got a hit,” the fingerprint tech announced.

  “That was quick.”

  “The guy’s in the military database.”

  The printer started up so I moved over the check the pages it was spitting out. I gathered the stack of paper and thanked everyone. I needed some quiet time to digest the information I’d just received on Mastery Gunnery Sergeant Brian Jenner, former Marine hero, current outlaw biker aka Smoke. He hadn’t lied about his identity.

  I walked into my cubby and dropped the fat file on my desk. My phone was lit up like a Las Vegas casino. I punched in and started listening to voice mail. What had Smoke told me? Oh, yeah. He wasn’t on anyone’s radar. Wrong. The ATF wanted immediate access to me, my investigation, and Smoke.

  Before I could get up and disappear, Fielder arrived with three guys in tow. I recognized one of them. He and I had worked a case two years ago. The ATF had arrived. Yippee.

  Smoke

  I STOOD in the back of a cigarette smoke-filled club. The manager obviously didn’t give a damn about clean air laws. The cell phone in my hip pocket buzzed. I jerked it out and put it to my ear.

  “Damn, Smoke. What’s up with all that racket?” Hardy—short for Hardass—Tyree, the Nightriders national vice president, yelled in my ear.

  “Had a tip. Hang on.”

  I pushed through the crowd toward the exit. The place was way over the fire marshal’s limit too. Outside in the humid night air, the bass from the band was a throbbing reminder of the party going on inside.

  “What’s up, Hardy?”

  “You said you had a tip?”

  I knuckled my temple, hoping the raging headache would disappear now that I was removed from the noise. “Yeah. There’s a rumor that this place is next on the list. I wanted to check it out.”

  “And?”

  “Nothin’.”

  “The Dallas chapter have anything to say?”

  “Nothin’. Boner is keeping a tight leash, especially on the brothers I trust. The new guys? The humans? They’re as clueless as the rest of us. That’s not good. This is their territory.” My eyes roamed the parking lot, catching each movement and shadow. I was a predator, pure and simple. “I don’t get it. The Nightriders don’t own any of the properties that have been torched. There’s barely a whiff of Hell Dogs anywhere. When I first came down, I couldn’t figure out why I was here.”

  “And now?”

  “Someone knows I’m around. They’re using my former MO to set the fires. There aren’t many around who know, Hardy.”

  “You need backup? We don’t like the direction Boner is headed.”

  “Neither do I. He’s involved, somehow. Could he have sold us out to the Hell Dogs?”

  “The Russian will roast his balls and feed them to the crows if he has.”

  I figured as much. “I’m good for now. If I need cover, I’ll call in.”

  “What about the girl?”

  Shit. He was talking about Leigh. I didn’t know how to answer. As I was working up a reply, a muffled boom followed by screams scrambled my thoughts. “Oh, fuck no.” I was running toward the door before my brain caught up to my feet. “Gotta go.”

  I shoved the phone back into my pocket. The exit door—the one I’d left unlocked when I walked out—was jammed shut. “Fuck!”

  I grabbed the handle and jerked. Metal groaned. My shoulders bunched as I used my foot to brace while I yanked again. The door gave and I almost ended up on my butt. Regaining my balance, I reached in and started pulling people out.

  Wolf hearing is sensitive and I picked up electrical pops and whooshing flames beneath the cacophony of screams. Clearing the bottleneck at the door, I forced my way inside. I needed to get people out. Fast. The old building was a tinderbox.
<
br />   I made the rounds. All the fucking doors were locked. People had piled up at the blocked fire doors. More code violations. I kicked exits open and terrified clubbers spilled out into the night, walls of flame chasing them. Black spots swam in front of my eyes and my lungs burned like a sonavabitch. I tripped over one last victim on my way out—one of the waitresses. Tossing her over my shoulder, I bulled my way to the back door, passing firefighters on the way in. One took the unconscious girl from me.

  I needed to get the hell away from there. I was already a suspect in the other fires, despite Leigh saying she thought I was innocent. From the number of fire apparatus in the parking lot, I figured the fire had gone 3-alarm at least. I made it about ten feet away from my bike when a conversation caught my attention.

  Two men, crouched down behind a pickup truck. They stank of booze, drugs, and black powder. They were human.

  “What happened?”

  “Somebody unlocked the doors.”

  “We need to…” Sirens obscured the conversation—even from my enhanced hearing. “…we have the remedy. I’ll take…”

  I didn’t hear the rest. Someone took me face-first to the ground, handcuffing my hands behind my back. I cranked my head around to look up. Leigh stood in front of me.

  “Brian Jenner, you’re under arrest.”

  Well, fuck.

  Chapter 12

  Smoke

  I WAS IN a hellava bind but some perverse streak made me rock up to my knees. The cops surrounding me tensed, and one kept a hand hovering over the butt of his gun. Not that it mattered much. Even with my hands cuffed behind my back, I could take them down. Hell, I could even if I wasn’t a Wolf. All that training forced on Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children didn’t evaporate once the uniforms were packed away.

  “This what you been dreamin’ about, babe?” I dropped my voice to a low purr. “Me on my knees, waiting for your orders?” I was no fucking submissive but from the fiery color flooding her cheeks and the splash of her geranium and clove scent drenched in damp heat? Yeah, I wondered if maybe Leigh didn’t have at least some curiosity. I’d be happy to explore those things with her—once I got out of this mess.

  “Shut up, Smo—” She choked off my name and cleared her throat. “Err, Mr. Jenner.”

  “Babe.”

  Her hands fisted and she looked ready to slug me. “What were you doing here tonight?”

  “You gonna do this right here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I get off the fucking pavement?”

  She contemplated the question longer than was necessary before nodding to my guards. Before they could latch on to help me up, I surged to my feet, standing there loose-limbed, ready to take whatever came my way.

  Her eyes widened, lips parted, and the tongue that, just last night, had licked my dick like it was her favorite flavor of ice cream darted out to wet them. Said dick hardened in response. She had the motherfucker trained now. She glanced down, reddened again but damn if I’d apologize. She was mine. My scent was all over her. I’d marked my territory and there wasn’t a Wolf or man in the world strong enough to take her away from me. Too bad she hadn’t figured that out yet.

  Leigh lifted her chin, eyes narrowing when she figured out that I was staring at her mouth. Her tongue immediately stopped teasing her lips. A guy walked up next to her and I almost lost her scent in his. Shit. He was a stew of scents—chili powder, burning tires, gin, plus stale beer and puke. I damn sure didn’t want to be in his head. The resentment I got. Rage? What did he have to be that pissed over? Same with why he was exuding indignation. Oh. Wait. I caught a glimpse of a tattoo—the Marine Corps emblem. Yeah, he was probably sure I’d disgraced the Corps, which explained his disgust.

  Tough shit.

  Hands jerked me toward a waiting squad car. Somebody mumbled their way through the Miranda Rights recitation.

  “Do you wish to speak to us at this time?”

  “I want my attorney.”

  That shut things down in a hurry.

  Leigh

  I STOOD in the observation room next to Interrogation, watching through the two-way mirror. DPD took over an hour to process Smoke. Brian. No. Smoke. I’d only known him by that name and he owned it, even sitting shackled to the metal desk. He was leaning back in the uncomfortable chair, eyes closed. He could be sleeping for all we knew. The police department mostly used close-circuit feeds these days but since I knew Smoke, I wanted to be close, where I could see every nuance of his expression.

  As he’d requested at the scene, he’d been allowed a phone call. We couldn’t question him until his attorney arrived. We were still waiting. The ATF agent standing next to me fidgeted. He’d bristled from the moment he set eyes on Smoke and I couldn’t figure out why. He also didn’t like me very much.

  “Did you fuck him?” the agent growled under his breath.

  I jerked my head around and stared at him. “Excuse me?” I could growl too.

  “If you have him pussy whipped you might be able to coerce him before his fuckin’ attorney gets here.”

  A plain-clothes cop nodded, obviously eavesdropping. “You’re good-looking. Soft. Go work on him, see if you can get him to talk.”

  They didn’t leave me a choice. But I also knew that every word we spoke would be recorded. I exited, slamming the door as I stalked out. Bastards. I struggled to get my emotions under control before I walked into the interview room.

  Smoke opened his eyes as a slow grin spread his lips over his teeth. I’d seen that expression on his face before—after going down on me. After bringing me to so many climaxes I’d lost count.

  Damn him. Why did he have to be so freaking sexy? And so totally not my type. I didn’t do bad boys. Well, except for the romance novels I stashed in my backpack, yeah okay. But real life? They were nothing but heartbreak slapped on chocolate cake topped with whipped cream and salted caramel sauce. They tasted pretty darn yummy until they made your stomach ache. I’d known from the start that Smoke Jenner would do that to a girl—to me—way sooner than later. And now it was sooner. I leaned one shoulder against the wall. I wasn’t about to get any closer.

  I refused to acknowledge the eyes watching through the two-way glass.

  “Will you tell me why you were at that club?”

  “No.”

  “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

  “Got nothin’ to say, babe. I didn’t do this.”

  Lord but I wanted to believe him. Just that morning, I’d awakened in his arms, warm, sated, safe. But the man now staring at me, his face stony, his eyes glinting like topaz jewels? I didn’t know him and my stomach quivered at that realization. Had I ever known him? He was a Nightrider, poster child for the baddest of the bad boys.

  And God help me, I was his biggest groupie.

  Smoke

  SHE RUBBED her temple and cut her eyes toward the two-way mirror. I wondered who Leigh was staring at behind the glass. Her eyes met mine—a brief flicker of contact. “Talk to me, Smoke. Let me help.”

  Help? Yeah, right. She’d shown her true colors standing there in that parking lot. I kept my mouth shut. It would take a hellava lot more than her lies to get me to break. I wanted to know what had happened that turned her against me.

  “Don’t say much, do you?” She looked aggrieved. I almost laughed. Why the hell was she the injured party? I was the one sitting here in handcuffs.

  “What’s there to say?” I shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe me anyway.” And that right there pissed me off. She had no fuckin’ clue who and what she was to me, what I was to her. All she saw was the Nightrider patch on my cut. All she saw was the bad-ass biker. I’d never shown her the Wolf. At this rate, I never would.

  Someone tapped on the door and she opened it a crack. Then it was pushed open and a tall blonde walked in like she owned the joint. Leigh scowled at the woman. So did I. She was in her mid-forties, and despite the time of night, looked glossy and glamorous.

  “Wh
o are you?”

  The woman looked Leigh up and down and dismissed her. “I’m Clarice Shepherd, Mr. Jenner’s attorney. You had no right to question him without me being present, once he notified you he was exercising his constitutional rights. Now get out. And turn off the video and sound while I confer with my client.”

  Leigh shot me a helpless look and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Clarice studied me. I studied back. She set her black leather bag on the battered table, reached inside and pulled out a small electronic device. With her back to the mirror, she held an index finger to her lips to shush me.

  I hid my grin. That doohickey would not only pinpoint where the bugs were planted, it would emit a pulse that rendered them inoperable. The indicator light flashed four times. DPD was thorough. I braced for the pulse and barely managed to remain stoic. That shit hurt my ears.

  Someone next door cursed. Clarice, looking like she belonged on a fashion runway, glided over, braced her very sweet ass on the table next to me and in a soft whisper, asked, “Do you know where the camera is?”

  I leaned close so my face was blocked. I wouldn’t put it past the bastard to have a lip-reader in there. “Upper right corner. They can’t see your face. Can’t see mine now.”

  “Good. My colleague is seeing about your bail. I’ll have you out soon and I can guarantee the charges will be dropped by morning. Now, tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “Club business.”

  “Shit. The nightclub—”

  “No. I’m just down here to take care of Nightrider business. We have nothing to do with that nightclub.”

  “Not even the locals?” Her lip curled up. Huh. She didn’t like them very much which meant she was more likely hired straight out of our National chapter. Good to know.

  “Boner’s not that ambitious.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “Saving people.”

  She scowled at that, but more in confusion than anger. “What? You played hero?”