Solo (2 page)

Switch held up a small plastic bag of weed. “I thought you took care of this shit!” he yelled.

“I did. Beat the motherfucker selling it so bad he won’t be sitting upright for weeks.” Solo snatched the bag out of Switch’s hand. “This isn’t Stevie Boy’s shit. He always puts a black mark on the corner of his bags.” He studied the bag before handing it back to the other man. He had no doubt the bag had contained more of the meth laced marijuana they’d run across lately. “Where’d you get it?”

“BlackJack, over at Turner High dropped it off. He said it was knocked loose from someone’s pocket during a fight in the hall this morning. He found it under the drinking fountain when he cleaned up the mess.”

“If you talk to him again, tell him I’m on it.” Solo handed the weed back to Switch, knowing it would probably go right into the pipe Switch kept in his office.

Turner High School was in the affluent section of town. No way could a dealer make money on laced weed anywhere else, but those rich high school fucks were stupid. Luckily, they had BlackJack. Sometimes, it was cool having a member entrenched in the local schools. Once he’d been ready to step back from the club, BlackJack Stevens had taken a janitorial job at one of the local high schools. It was the way of the club. When a brother got too old to fight, he turned his attention to other things the club had going. In BlackJack’s case, he helped with the Keeping it Clean project the MC spearheaded. Solo had come up with the idea nearly eleven years ago after his baby sister, Jessica, had overdosed in a high school bathroom stall during her lunch break. Working to keep assholes from selling drugs in a four-block radius of the schools sure as hell wasn’t easy, but the club had supported the idea and still did.

“Find out where that shit came from, and take care of it,” Switch ordered before walking away.

Fuck.
Solo glanced at Rowdy. He doubted the motherfucking dealer was still standing on the street at eleven o’clock at night, but it was worth a shot. He grabbed his cut. The black leather vest was like a second skin to him most of the time, but the air conditioning in the club had gone to hell in the last week. “Let’s ride.”

Rowdy laid the pool sticks on the table before following. They reached the parking lot behind the MC, but instead of heading to their Harleys, they walked straight to Solo’s black, seventy-three Nova. Words didn’t need to be exchanged for the two of them to be on the same page. Rowdy had patched into Grave Diggers the same year Solo had, and the two of them had clicked immediately. Yeah, Rowdy was his boy, and Solo couldn’t think of a better man to watch his back.

Keyed up and pissed off, Solo tore out of the parking lot. How the hell had someone snuck under his radar? He glanced at the healing scabs on his knuckles from the beating he’d given Stevie Boy the week before. He made a right onto Lowell Avenue and kept his eyes open. It wasn’t a secret among the dealers that the Grave Diggers watched the area, which is why Solo opted for the Nova. One rumble from his Harley and the little fuckers scrambled like cockroaches.

When he hit Brookline, Solo slowed the car to a crawl. If someone was out selling, he knew he’d look like he was buying.

“There. Up and to the right,” Rowdy said, pointing his finger at two shadows huddled together under a low-hanging branch.

“Got ‘em,” Solo replied as he inched the Nova toward the men. The moment he pulled to a stop, the two men took off in different directions. “I’ve got the one in the hoodie,” he yelled to Rowdy as he threw open his door and took off. His heavy black boots ate up the pavement in pursuit of the crazy motherfucker. Who the fuck wore a hoodie in August?

Solo made a sharp right as the scum in the jacket disappeared between two houses. When he rounded the corner of the white two-story house, he slowed.
Shit.
The weasel was nowhere in sight. A dog in the neighbor’s backyard was barking its fool head off, so he had no doubt the scumbag was still close, probably hiding. He heard the backdoor open and quickly stepped back into the shadows as the dog’s owner started yelling. Although he was trying to catch a fucking dealer, Solo was sure the homeowner wouldn’t believe him. With his above average size and wearing the cut, most people he encountered were scared shitless whenever he approached them.

After several moments, the homeowner got his dog inside and shut the door. Unfortunately, the dealer was probably long gone. Irritated, Solo blew out a breath and turned back toward the Nova.

Solo made his way onto the street and jogged toward Rowdy, who was currently in a fistfight with the second man. He knew Rowdy didn’t need help, but Solo enjoyed watching punks get the shit beat out of them so he stopped several yards away.

In their scuffling, Rowdy and the second man had moved out from under the tree as they went blow for blow. Solo crossed his arms over his chest and settled in to watch the fight, impressed with the bastard’s ability to take a punch and stay on his feet. When the overhead streetlamp gave him a glimpse of Rowdy’s opponent’s face, he went still.

Blue.

Solo’s breath hitched at the sight of the man he’d fucked weeks earlier. It had been one of the best he’d had in a very long time, and on more than one occasion, he’d considered knocking on Blue’s door for a repeat.

“Rowdy!” he yelled. He uncrossed his arms and took a step toward them when Blue landed a solid punch to Rowdy’s jaw.

Solo pushed between Rowdy and Blue and wrapped his arms around Blue, stilling the smaller man. “Stop!”

Blood dripping from his nose, and his eye already swelling, Blue stared up at Solo and froze. “What the fuck?”

Solo glanced over his shoulder at Rowdy, who was bent over with his hands braced on his knees. “You okay?” Few people could go toe to toe with Rowdy and stand afterward, but Blue had done it. A certain amount of pride filled Solo.

“Why the fuck did you stop me?” Rowdy asked, spitting blood onto the sidewalk.

Solo returned his attention to Blue. “Because I know him,” he said to Rowdy while keeping his gaze locked on those pretty blue eyes. Usually, he was a damn good judge of character, and not once had he thought Blue was anything other than the typical executive. How had he been so wrong? “You buying or selling?”

Blue skirted his gaze to the school. “Buying.”

“Bullshit,” Solo called. No way was Blue a user.

“If you’re not going to believe me, why’d you ask?” Blue pushed against Solo’s chest. “And get your hands off me.”

“I wanted to see if you’d lie. I got my answer.” Solo released Blue but remained vigilant. If Blue decided to run, Solo would go after him. It helped that he knew where Blue lived, and that he had a huge king-sized bed with pale blue sheets and a navy and white handmade quilt.

Blue righted his shirt. “I could ask you the same thing. You here to make a buy?”

“I’m here to make sure fuckheads don’t sell their shit to kids.” Solo waved his hand in a circular pattern around him. “This whole area is off limits to drugs, so I’m gonna ask again, are you buying or selling?”

Blue looked past Solo to Rowdy before returning his attention to Solo. “I’m not talking to you here out in the open. You need to rough me up some more and shove me into the back of your car.”

* * * *

Detective Eric James wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “I said rough me up, not try to knock out my fucking teeth.”

Solo climbed into the backseat with Eric after tossing the keys to the other bad-looking biker dude. “I don’t like playing games.” He gestured to Eric’s mouth. “Now you know.” He leaned over until his mouth was an inch from Eric’s. “Talk.”

“Not here. Pull out like you’re taking me to your club or something,” Eric said, touching the tip of his tongue to the cut on his lower lip.

Solo tapped the other man on the shoulder. “Drive.”

Eric had been so close to getting something out of the low-level dealer. If it hadn’t been for the vigilante bikers, he would no doubt have either a name or a time to meet the guy in charge. Once they were several blocks from the school, he chanced a glance at Solo. Who fucking knew the man he’d had unbelievably hot sex with was a member of the Grave Diggers?
Shit.
Shouldn’t Solo have been wearing that damn battered black leather vest or something? Now that would have clued him in. His captain was going to be pissed if he ever found out. His walk on the wild side could end up getting him bumped down the ladder. He’d be lucky if he landed a job as a patrol cop, but he’d never been that fortunate. He saw years writing parking tickets in his future.

“Talk,” Solo practically growled.

Eric glanced at the man driving.

“You can trust Rowdy,” Solo said as if reading Eric’s mind.

“I don’t trust you, so the fact that I can trust your boy isn’t that comforting,” Eric replied.

Solo’s eyes narrowed. Fuck, the guy was scary. “You have two seconds to open that pretty mouth of yours and tell me what the fuck you were doing trying to make a deal outside a school.”

“Or what?” Eric asked. He’d end up talking to Solo. Hell, the biker probably had better intel than he did, but he knew if he came off as weak, Solo would chew him up and spit him out. In other instances, Eric would probably enjoy being on the receiving end of Solo’s mouth again, but this wasn’t one of them.

Solo reached down, grabbed Eric’s dick through his jeans, and gave it a firm squeeze to the point of pain. “Or I’ll make sure this never gets hard again.”

Unlikely
, Eric thought. His cock had been hard since he’d looked up, ready to do battle, and stared into Solo’s dark brown eyes. “My name’s Eric James, but of course you already know that. What you don’t know is that I’m a detective with the Albuquerque PD.”

Solo released his hold on Eric as if he’d been burnt. He scooted as far away from Eric as he could get and started cussing. “Motherfuckin’ sonofabitch!”

“Yeah, something like that,” Eric said, agreeing with the expletives. “A junior at Turner was rushed to the hospital earlier today. He’s in the intensive care unit not expected to live,” he volunteered in a matter-of-fact tone. He tried his best not to let his job get to him, but the cases involving kids were the worst. “The only thing we have to go on is his girlfriend’s statement that he bought a bag of weed after school. I was checking out the area when that piece of shit approached me. Before I could get anything good out of him, that big fucker burst out of a car and jumped me,” he said, gesturing to Rowdy.

“Fuck!” Solo pulled out a cell phone and began punching numbers so hard it was a wonder the glass didn’t crack. “Don’t smoke that shit,” he said into the phone. He waited a heartbeat before growling, “Well don’t smoke any more of it.”

Eric shook his head. For a minute, he’d thought maybe he could work with the MC on getting the shit off the streets, but the problem with bikers was that they didn’t work within the confines of the law. He was a cop, yet there Solo was openly talking to someone about smoking weed.

Solo hung up the phone. “Where’re you parked?”

“Back of the school.” Eric touched his tongue to his lip again to check whether or not the bleeding had stopped.

“Head back to the club, Rowdy,” Solo instructed.

“I’m not going to your club,” Eric protested. “I probably shouldn’t be in this car.”

Solo chuckled. “We ain’t stayin’. I’ve got something else in mind.”

Chapter Two

“What the hell are you thinking?” Rowdy asked as he shoved the keys into Solo’s hand. “He’s a fuckin’ cop. You hate cops, and if the club finds out, you’re both fucking dead.”

“I didn’t know he was a cop when I stuck my fuckin’ dick in him,” Solo fired back. He made sure to speak low enough to keep the conversation between him and Rowdy. Finding Eric on that sidewalk had thrown him, something that rarely, if ever, happened. He didn’t have a clue what his next move was, but one thing was certain, he wanted more one on one time with his little cop friend. “Fuck, man, just give me some time to figure this out before you say anything to Switch or the brothers.”

Rowdy, the only brother in the club who knew Solo was gay, slowly nodded. “You have any clue what you’re asking me to do?”

Solo knew if the club found out Rowdy was lying, he’d be in the same shit as Solo. “Yeah.”

Rowdy exhaled. “Next time, try a bit of small talk before you fuck a stranger.” He touched his bruised and swelling jaw. “What do you want me to tell Switch?”

Solo ran his fingers through his hair. “Tell him I went home, but don’t let him smoke anymore of that shit until we know what the hell’s wrong with it. Dusting weed with meth or cocaine wouldn’t put a kid in the ICU.” He grabbed two handfuls of hair and pulled in frustration, a habit he’d picked up as a kid who’d had little to no say in the fucked up house he’d been raised in. “Not all the dusted weed is bad, otherwise there’d be a hell of a lot more kids in the hospital, so maybe Blue can shed some light on the victim’s background. Maybe the guy was targeted.” He was grasping at straws, he knew it, but it was the best excuse for why he needed to spend more time with Blue.

“Blue?” Rowdy chuckled.

Solo growled in answer. “Call me tomorrow,” he said before opening the driver’s door. He slid into the car and glanced in the backseat. “You can sit up as soon as we clear the parking lot.”