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The trunk lid opened and he found himself staring at the face of an amused sheriff’s deputy and Kara’s worried expression. The deputy consulted his phone, and then spoke into his shoulder mike.
“Got him. He’s here, hiding in the trunk.”
Okay, Jason Beckett, how the hell are you getting out of this one?
Chapter 14
Kara’s heart sank to her stomach. Caught, and rotten timing. Maybe she could call her father, ask him to beg a favor from one of his friends in law enforcement, the local DA, but this was Georgia, not Florida.
Her father’s reach didn’t go that far.
As she ran through the list of possibilities, the deputy’s grin widened. The man was slightly portly, with gray hair and a suntanned face. He took off his mirrored sunglasses, squinted into the trunk.
“Jace Beckett. The one and only. What the hell you doing in there, son? Get out.”
Jace blinked, took the hand the deputy offered and climbed out of the trunk. He dusted off his jeans, gave them a rueful look.
“Can I help you, Officer?”
So polite, and grace under pressure. Kara doubted she’d have the same dignity and confidence after climbing out of a trunk, knowing she’d been caught by the law.
“No, but you sure need some help,” the deputy drawled. “From the looks of it, you sure do. Where’s your bike?”
Jace blinked, losing a little of the confidence. He studied the deputy, who made no move to cuff him or read him his Miranda rights. “I know you?”
“Not exactly. Name’s Bill Blakeson.” The man stuck out a hand and Jace shook it. “You rode with our club last year to raise money for the benefit fund for the widows and orphans of our local deputies.”
Jace squinted, grinned. “You don’t look like you did on that ride. What’s with the car?”
Deputy Blakeson snorted. “That ratty thing. I’m motorcycle patrol, but my bike’s in the shop.”
“Your uniform threw me off,” Jace told him.
“Your duds threw me off and my boys as well. One of them was off duty at the diner, spotted you and saw the BOLO. An off-duty deputy followed you. Was going to bring you in, but we got an alert from the FBI to notify Raphael Rodriguez if you were spotted. Most of the guys here don’t trust the Feds, but I rode with you, and I do. So I called Rodriguez and he told me you’re clean. Sure appreciate what you and your team are doing to clean up the bad guys, even if it isn’t in this area. Damn DP are everywhere, ruining things for legit bikers.”
Kara stared at Jace, totally confused. Jace threw her a guilty look. Then it dawned on her and fury bubbled up.
“Officer, what exactly is Jace’s team?”
Too late, the man shut his mouth, clammed up tight. Jace folded his arms across his chest, his mouth compressed.
The deputy touched his hat. “I’ll be going now. Unless you need me for anything. Just call. We’re on your side.”
Kara couldn’t believe it. Her mind felt like it was spinning in circles. Jace, working undercover. She should have known he hadn’t turned criminal. But she was so stunned by the biker gang, so filled with fear for Dylan and contempt for the bikers, that she’d let her emotions cloud her.
As Deputy Blakeson nearly ran for his car, Kara turned to Jace. “What the hell is going on, Jason Leroy Beckett? Whose side are you on?”
Swearing wasn’t in her vocab. Not Kara, the good girl who always tried to do the right thing. But there was no other word to express the sheer anger, hurt and betrayal she felt right now.
Jace straightened and dropped his hands. “Kara, I’m undercover. I infiltrated the gang a few months ago, working deep undercover.”
“Undercover for the local sheriff’s office?”
“No, the FBI.” He heaved a deep sigh. “Now that my cover’s officially blown...”
Jace stuck out a hand. “Special Agent Jason Beckett of the South Florida Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
Kara stared at his hand, then her gaze traveled up to his face. That face, sincere and hard in the sunlight, a flicker of uncertainty in his blue eyes as he dropped his hand. The well-trimmed beard, ragged hair threaded with gold streaks from the sun—now, she saw the contrast with his always military erect posture. He’d succeeded in blending in, a chameleon in wolf’s clothing among dangerous, criminal wolves.
