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“Possibly.”
“Marcus has been eyeing this target for a long time, maybe even years. He’s cautious, but elated, I keep hearing. When it all goes down, he will be vindicated. It may be public, Rafe, but it’s sounding personal. Lance said something about blowing everything sky high to the heavens.”
“When will it go down?”
“Lance is headed on a red-eye to New York, selling the jewels from the last heist while the others make sure the new theft goes down tonight. Risky, but he needs quick cash. He’s using the kids again on the crotch rockets to make a quick exit.”
Rafe’s eyes never left the game. “Keep at it. Let me know the minute you find anything useful about Marcus. Lance is at the bottom of the food chain, but even minnows can prove useful.”
“Lance doesn’t talk much. Not forthcoming with info, but I think with a few beers, his tongue will loosen more. He trusts me.”
“Good. Whatever you do, keep your cover. You’re the best chance we have of cracking this and helping us nail down who Marcus really is.”
“You let me know through Darkling soon as that target’s nailed down.” Jace nodded at the game. “Think I’ll bat a few balls around.”
Rafe glanced at him. “Think you were followed?”
“Nope. Just need to work off some steam.”
Rafe caught his arm. “Jace, I wanted you on this case. Asked for you personally. You’re good, smart and this will get you promoted. I want that for you as much as you want it. But you’re not alone. You get in a jam, let me know. I won’t lose you...like the other guys on my team. Got it?”
Throat tightening, Jace nodded as he remembered the two agents killed in the line of duty. Good men, both of them, leaving behind wives and kids. Rafe had taken it personally.
“I won’t let you down. I’m no Rambo. We’re a team.”
“Better than they are.” Rafe nodded to the outfield, where a man missed a ball and someone yelled at him.
Jace flashed a brief grin. “Better believe it.”
He headed to the field, his blood running hot as Rafe remained by the fence, watching the action.
By the time Jace retrieved a bat and a ball, Rafe had vanished.
The Devil’s Patrol clubhouse, nicknamed the Devil’s Den, was a somewhat dilapidated two-story wood building that once housed a family. They got evicted and the club bought the property under a corporate name.
Jace trudged up the outside steps to the second floor and used his key to open the outside door leading to the rooms used by bikers to either crash after a long night of partying, or indulge in other activities, such as bringing their old ladies up here for a quick bout of sex. Lance had given him one of the bedrooms for his own use, as a reward for all the business Jace was bringing into the garage with his repair skills.
He unlocked the bedroom door, and then closed it, leaning against it to survey his “reward.” The room was as small as a walk-in closet, but clean, with a window overlooking the wooded backyard, where rusty car parts grew more rapidly than weeds. There was a table, chair and gooseneck lamp, and a rickety wood dresser with drawers that creaked. Ignoring the sounds of loud music and laughter drifting from downstairs, he sat at the chair and dug out his cell phone.
On his cell, Jace scrolled through emails and read one from his contact at the FBI who was working the cyber side of this case, a skilled agent whose code name for this case was Maria Angelo. Her nickname at the Bureau was Darkling. Darkling was a tech expert, and she played the part of an average mom living in an average suburb.
Not just an average suburb. He grinned as he thought of exactly where Maria lived. Neighborhood filled with cops.
Darkling didn’t have much, but she warned him the social-media chatter had picked up a bit, warning about the DP having a personal vendetta. It could be anything.
Jace stuffed the phone into his jeans pocket and fell onto the bed, utterly exhausted.
The big mattress sported clean sheets—his—and a soft pillow, and a few minutes later, he fell asleep. The edges of a dream teased his subconscious. Kara, her long blond hair spilling past her shoulders, a shy smile teasing her carnation-pink mouth, her big blue eyes soft with emotion. An azure blue ball gown clung to her slim curves, billowing in the wind. Damn, he adored her in that color, as if she was Venus rising from the depths of a clear blue ocean with a cerulean sky overhead. Her arms were outstretched, beckoning to him. But as he took a step forward, her shy smile turned into a terrified scream, her eyes wide with shock as something pulled her backward, something smelling of hot metal and death...
Jace awoke with a strangled sound and sat up. Only a dream. But the light outside the grimy window had vanished, showing a silver nickel of moonlight beaming in the sky, peppered by dozens of stars.
Something he’d forgotten—damn, he’d been working so hard lately living this double life as a biker and trying to keep up with tracking information on the gang...
Kara. His brain cells kicked into gear and he rubbed the back of his head. She’d better not show up at her store tonight. The cell phone he’d swiped was a message to her that he meant business.
With a muffled curse, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and accessed the staircase leading downstairs.Stay sharp. Don’t let your guard drop for a nanosecond.
As he entered the clubhouse living room, finger-combing his long hair, he surveyed the scene. About one dozen bikers draped in chairs or at the pool table, indulging in a game. Three young people, barely out of their teens, sat near Lance on the sofa, Dylan included. They were doing their best job of looking tough.
