STRIKE: Storm Runners Motorcycle Club 2 (SRMC) (26 page)

Chapter One

United Arab Emirates

If she’d known what was going to happen, Sophie would have never ordered the second strawberry margarita. Maybe she’d have nixed the first one, too, and ordered straight vodka instead.

Cotton whispered over her skin when she crossed her legs, turning sideways on the barstool to watch the elegant men and women swarm out of the restaurant, into the lobby and then push through the heavy glass doors into the salty sea air. The heat of the day would end with sweat stains on some of the heavy wool business suits the men wore, Sophie was sure, but she couldn’t afford to worry about the state of others’ clothes.

She missed France. Everyone smoked in France and short black skirts were de rigueur.

One of the men in the lobby reminded her of the Parisian man she’d left when the job at a university in Rome opened up. They’d danced until three in the morning on weekends; he’d spin her in circles while her skirts flared around her knees and made her feel carefree, young. Sophie had left him, of course, the way she left everyone at the merest hint of something better. But she missed that man and wondered where he was while she was sitting in a hotel bar in Dubai, wearily considering another drink.

Her best friend Adele had recommended the strawberry margarita with pink-tinged lips at two in the morning the night before, stumbling in over her heels and grinning sheepishly at Sophie when she crashed into a lamp and woke her friend up. She’d been right. The first one was good—sweet and with just enough tequila to make it bite.

Sophie raised her hand again, trying to capture the bartender’s attention. He was flirting with two tan women with sun-kissed hair and silk dresses. Mentally, Sophie tallied the money she’d need to furnish the small apartment she’d found in Rome. It was walking distance to Via del Corso, so she knew she’d have to budget for that too. Teaching paid the bills, but it didn’t keep her in couture and, oh, how she loved a perfect hem or neckline. She could get around that, of course, but she preferred not to touch her family’s money.

Pulling her thoughts away from peep toes and handbags, she turned to the woman who had materialized beside her without a sound, sliding onto the barstool like a ghost. Adele lifted a finger and cleared her throat, causing the bartender to turn away from the two women and immediately cross to them.

“What would you like?”

“A martini, please. Straight up, two onions and don’t bruise the gin.” Adele lifted Sophie’s heavy crystal glass and looked at the dregs of clumped sugar at its base. “Get another for her, too.”

“It’s on the house,” he said, his face going ruddy as he realized he’d been remiss in serving a customer. He hurried to the wall of liquors and started making their drinks, reaching for the top-shelf liquor without being asked.

Adele, Sophie thought, always got top-shelf. Her rich voice was pure sex, hot, sweet and inviting. For years, they’d been partners in crime, as well as comrades in the halls of academia, and it still amused Sophie to see men jump when her svelte friend flipped her ruby hair over her pale shoulders.

She loved Adele, and not just because she was as willing to move as quickly between cities as Sophie was. Sophie loved her because she wore four-inch heels to teach, because she kept tea she never drank in her cupboards for Sophie and because she organized Christmas parties every year for the ex-pats who couldn’t go home to their families.

After a disastrous year of lecturing in Paris, they’d earned their vacation in Dubai. Too quickly, Sophie had realized that the boutique school they’d selected was populated by students who were more interested in parties than paintings. It was all rush now—rush and texture. One student had even run her fingers down the bumpy canvas of a painting at an art showing until two security guards has escorted her off the premises.

After that, Sophie had decided to never organize another class trip to a gallery.

“Are you okay?” Adele asked, leaning in and placing a hand on Sophie’s leg. “You seem out of it.”

“I’m fine,” Sophie said, forcing her mouth into a smile. It wasn’t fooling either woman, but it was enough to avoid a conversation that neither wanted to have.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Adele withdrew her hand and looked into the lobby at a group of men who had just arrived downstairs, poking each other in the ribs, baseball caps pushed down over their sloppy hair. “Dinner? Dancing? We could just hang out and have a girls’ night.”

“No,” said Sophie. “I’m going to stay in again tonight—without the added bonus of you laughing while I cry at a movie. I’m thinking shower, soup and sleep, the three most important s-words.”

“I think you’re forgetting one.”

“Only if I’m living by your standards,” Sophie replied with a grin.

Adele sat back and glanced at the men in the lobby again. “Soph, you know I have very. High. Standards. Except when I’m on vacation. You sure you don’t want company? They look like they might be fun. American, I think.”

“We’re American, pretentious.”

“No, we’re ex-pats. Do you even pay taxes there anymore?”

“I don’t make enough,” Sophie said. “Seriously, though, go out with them. It’s a good idea and you’ll have fun. Tonight’s just a bad night for me.”

“That’s why I’m not keen on leaving you alone.”

“Tomorrow we’ll do a whole spa day. Mud masks. Salt baths. Food with so few calories that we immediately disappear when we eat it.”

“I don’t mind just ordering room service and hanging out here.”

“Go out, Adele. You’ll have a good time and if they’re cool, maybe I’ll come out tomorrow.” She wrapped her arm around her best friend, relaxing against her as the bartender dropped off the drinks they’d ordered and left without a word.

“I can’t leave knowing you’ll end up sitting alone in the dark.”

Sophie sighed, running a hand over her long, blonde ponytail and smoothing out the frizz that had erupted after she’d come in from the heat. She picked up her drink and took a long sip, not surprised that it was better than the first she’d ordered. “I won’t,” she promised. “I’m so tired that it’s almost ridiculous at this point. Pulling off week-long dance marathons like we did five years ago just isn’t happening anymore.”

“What will you do?”

“Eat some food, watch a little TV and pass out. Vacation stuff.”

Adele narrowed her eyes, but nodded. She took a single swallow of her martini, slid off the barstool and wrapped her arms around Sophie. “I’m going to catch up with those guys. Introduce myself. You’ve got my cell number, so call me if you need or want anything. I’d rather be with you anyway.”

Sophie nodded, then turned to watch Adele saunter into the lobby and catch up with the men by the door. Their friendly faces turned appreciative and they easily accepted the woman into their group, ushering her through the main doors with smiles. Sophie turned back and finished her drink. Almost immediately, the bartender set another in front of her.

“Are you from around here?” The line would have been tired from anyone, but from a hotel bartender it was downright stupid. Sophie didn’t want to hear any pickup lines. She especially didn’t want to hear one meant for her best and only friend.

“No, we’re moving to Rome next week,” she said, running a finger along the sugared rim of the glass and then touching it to her mouth. “This is just a pit stop.” His eyes dimmed, and she softened. “She’d just break your heart anyway. Please put the drinks on my tab.”

“I said they were on the house,” he said, and smiled. Once upon a time she might have smiled back, invited him to come to her room or to dinner. But things were different now. So she nodded, took one last sip of the drink, and then headed for the elevators, ready for the long ride up to her room.

Aidan watched the blonde woman from his booth in the back of the bar, flexing his hands to keep them from stiffening where the knuckles were swollen. He hated to do a job when he wasn’t at his best, especially a dangerous one.

Usually the weakness wouldn’t worry him. But this was Veronica. A guy didn’t capture the prime bitch of The Hellenic Agency with busted knuckles.

He kept his eyes on the mirror behind the bar, watching the girl flirt with the bartender after her friend left. Veronica was beautiful, he thought, Porsche 911 sexy with curvy hips and high, taut breasts. Even as he’d cursed himself for it, he’d watched with appreciation as they pressed against the front of her t-shirt earlier that day on the beach. Now, in a blue sundress, she was radiant. A cool drink of water in the dusty heat of the desert.

She was sexier than he remembered, but it could have been the fake veil of innocence that surrounded her as she sat alone in the bar. Veronica looked tiny and lost, two words he’d never have thought to associate with her. Women like Ronnie, in his experience, used sex as a weapon. They bartered ten minutes of access to their wet, warm pussy for information that could get a man killed. Aidan had never yet met a woman who was worth it.

He took a long swallow of his Coke. It was watery and too sweet, but it helped clear the lump that had gathered as he watched Veronica laugh and smile at her redheaded friend. The steak on the table went untouched. Aidan wasn’t hungry. He just wanted the booth.

When Veronica pushed back her drink and crossed to the elevators, he finished his Coke and waited until the doors had slid silently closed in front of her face. He dropped a few bills on the table and left as quickly as he’d entered.

The opulence of the hotel made no impression on him, nor had it at the moment he first entered. The thick, colorful carpets, sparkling fountains and curved balconies that lined the interior of the place were just the trappings of wealth, which he’d had long enough that it no longer mattered. It was just another place where Aidan had been dispatched to do work that needed to be done.

Reaching the bank of elevators, he pressed a button and stepped in. Aidan reached out and hit 26, then stood with his arms crossed while the box rose.

He’d never killed a woman before and he wasn’t looking forward to it now. But no matter his personal preferences, Veronica would die and he would be the one to kill her.

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KEEPING YOU

One

“That son of a bitch,” my best friend Sarah shouted into the phone and I could almost hear her pulling her long blonde hair between her restless fingers. “I can’t believe he dumped you like that. You should have told me sooner, Ellie.”

“I know.” I closed my eyes and willed myself not to let anymore tears escape. I’d already cried enough over that bastard and red eyes weren’t a look I was willing to wear to work. Jeremy Wright was a low-down, scum-sucking cheating piece of garbage and I never wanted to see him again as long as I lived. Except that every time I closed my eyes I saw the cruel little smile he got when he said it was over.

I should have ripped his face off
.

“But I can’t avoid him, Sarah. If I’m not ready for the presentation next week, then I’m not going to get the funding to start working on a new project. That means his team will get the money. The lab. And I’ll get kicked down to archives.”

Jeremy and I were both pharmacology researchers who were developing a new drug. Three years of research and the key was so simple that we’d overlooked it the whole time. The active ingredient was based on the insect that acted as a vector for Chagas disease—we’d figured it out during a camping trip when I started reading a book on etymology to pass the time while Jeremy fished. The pill was designed to minimize infections when taken early after a surgery or injury. I believed that a liquid version could be developed to slow bleeding and prevent clots as well. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the sexist thing in the world—it was sure no little blue pill—but it was going to make Veixel, Inc a lot of money. A lot.

I remembered the day I’d heard about my raise—and then realized how much I’d lost all in the same breath.

“Don’t worry, Eleanor.” My boss sat back in his chair, studying me with his fingers templed together on his desk. “Now that we’re getting permission to go forward with the trials, we aren’t going to forget your input. I’m happy to tell you to expect a raise in your next check.” Given that I’d designed, developed and conceived of the idea for the treatment, I wasn’t surprised. Jeremy had looked over at me sheepishly. He’d been giving status reports to Ron for months, letting me hang back and do my work in the lab.

“When Jeremy first told us how he found a new use for the vector, I was impressed. Watching you help him mold it into a complete project has been a real treat.” I slowly turned my head to look at Jeremy. He flushed. Huge red blotches dotted his cheeks and he looked down at his knees, then back at me, silently imploring me not to tell. I gritted my teeth, but I kept my mouth closed. We were a team after all, even if I was the one who did most of the real work.

And I loved the stupid man. There would be other accolades, and if it meant that much to him…I’d let him have this one. Even if it rankled.

Except that three weeks later, he’d talked me into a quick fuck on the sofa and then dumped me before he’d even pulled out. Goodbye, so long, we’re done. He had another woman and didn’t want to let us play out anymore. Then, as his coup de grace, he fired me from his research team. My research team. And I was directed to head up another group.

I’d slapped him across the face, pulled on my clothes and stormed out. I still didn’t go to Ron and tell him the truth about who really developed the project though. To admit that I’d been stupid enough to let him claim credit for my work really made my skin sizzle, and I knew it would hurt my chances for advancement.

“Ellie, are you there?” Sarah’s voice poured through the receiver, filled with concern. I could hear the sounds of people talking and the clink of glasses in the background.

“Sorry.” I took a bite of the éclair I’d picked up at the bakery on the way home and closed my eyes as the flavors exploded on my tongue. Fuck men. I was going to commit to chocolate. At least it wouldn’t take credit for my triumphs.

“Ellie? I asked when he’s going to be over.” Jeremy was stopping by tonight to pick up the last of his things. It wasn’t much—just some t-shirts and a toothbrush, which I’d offered to drop by his new office—but he insisted. So instead of spending time with my friends, drinking margaritas and forgetting him with each quick burn of tequila on my tongue, I was stuck sitting here, waiting.

He was ten minutes late.

“Who knows? I should have just left the box out on the porch. No one would be dumb enough to take his ratty music festival relics anyway.”

“True that,” she said. “Do you want me to come over?”

“No, definitely not. Go back to your date—I’d never have poured this out on you if I’d realized you were out. I’ll deal with him alone. Just have fun.” Sarah had recently been skipping from man to man on a dating site she’d joined. Maybe that’s what I needed—some no strings, just for fun dates with a guy.

“Fine,” she said. “But call if you need me. Love you.”

“I love you too,” I said. “Goodnight.” Once I’d terminated the call, I took another éclair from the box and ate it, watching the clock. Each second that passed made me angrier, ready for a fight I couldn’t possibly win.

Finally, two hours after he was supposed to be there, Jeremy knocked on the door. I opened it and he stepped into the foyer. His hair was mussed and his collar was open; it was obvious he’d been with the intern he was dating now, but I didn’t say anything. Jeremy was a master of appearances, and he’d shown up looking exactly how he wanted to.

Oddly, the evidence that he’d been with another woman didn’t make me feel bad. It kind of helped. Seeing the shell of the person I thought I’d known made some of that anger drain away. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, reaching for my hands. “I got held up at work.” Had he always been such an obvious liar?

I stepped back to avoid his reach and gestured for him to follow me down the hall. In the kitchen, I picked up the cardboard box and handed it to him. His eyes traveled from the large bay windows to the black marble counters and then to the statue of a turtle I’d placed in the middle of the table.

“That turtle,” he said, pointing at it. I smiled.

“I pulled it back out once you were gone. You won’t have to look at it anymore.”

“It would be nice to be friends, Ellie,” he said. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” I smiled at him, pushing my long, dark hair out of my eyes. “But I’m not going to stand here and pretend to want to continue knowing you. You took credit for my work; why would I want to be around the kind of person who would do that?”

“It just happened,” he said lamely.

“Sure it did. How much money are you going to make off the bonus?”

“A lot,” he said, looking down into the box. “Look, if you do me a favor and help me finish the presentation, I’ll share it with you. I’ll give you ten percent.”

I raised my eyebrows and stared at him until he cleared his throat. “Fine,” he said. “Twenty.”

“I did most of the work that needed to be done before you kicked me off the team. What else could you possibly need to be ready?” The handouts, presentation and speech were all written.

“I need a live sample insect to show off.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s a bunch of suit-wearing executives, not a show-and-tell in kindergarten. Just show them one of the photos we took.”

His mouth tightened, but he didn’t argue. “Whatever, Ellie. If you want the money, bring me a sample before tomorrow’s meeting.”

I stewed internally, but kept my face calm. On one hand, the bug that we’d used for the research wasn’t hard to catch, and honestly, the money would go a long way toward helping me tackle those final student loans that still haunted me. On the other hand, the idea of doing any favors for the man who’d dumped me rankled.

“Fine,” I said at length, my desire for money winning out over my desire to thwart Jeremy. “I’ll have it with me in the morning. I’d better get going if I’m gonna drive all the way out to Green Lake State Park tonight.”

“I have a trapping kit in the car,” he said. “I was planning to go myself, but I’d rather have the evening free for—um—research.” A sly grin curled up the corners of his lips.
Son of a bitch.

“Put it in the back of my car and go.” I turned away and looked through the large windows over the sink into the forest behind my home. The sun had set completely and the deep dark that surrounded my house grew even blacker under the trees. The idea of going into the state park at night made me nervous, but the money would be good. Navigating the winding roads and steep trails was worth it.

“I’ll miss you,” Jeremy said quietly. I didn’t respond—he’d dumped me. I didn’t want to hear anything about how he felt. Finally I heard his footsteps leave the kitchen. A moment later, the front door slammed behind him. I went to find a pair of jeans, a tank top, a sweater and my hiking boots. It was time to get out and turn over a few stones.

The full moon was high in the sky as I pulled through the gates that stood at the entrance to Green Lake State Park. They were more elaborate than most other parks, made of twisted pikes or iron. Luckily, no one had pulled the gates closed, so I was able to drive into the woods, instead of having to hike all the way in like I feared.

The insects we used for our research liked water and tended to live near flowing streams or under rocks at higher altitude. I could park by the trailhead and hike up to our old camping spot. Jeremy and I had been here together at the beginning of our project, trapping bugs to use while we waited for the research samples to arrive. Back then, I’d loved him madly. He’d spontaneously make up poetry, wrap his arms around me and tell me that I was his inspiration. A year into our relationship, I’d seen his browsing history and realized he was taking other people’s poems and presenting them as his own. By then, though, I’d seen his other good qualities and figured at least he was trying.

Sarah always said I had a yen for men who needed to be fixed.

I should have left him, but the relationship felt safe. I didn’t have parents or anyone, really, except Sarah. Jeremy was a good research partner and my project, the drug, was more important than his temper or silent sulking. A pang of loss ripped through me at the thought of my research going through testing under him instead of me.

Of course, if my biggest regret was losing my own project, then I hadn’t lost that much in the relationship to begin with, I mused as the minutes ticked by. Putting my ex out of my head, I took a long sip of the coffee with caramel creamer I’d brought along. It was going to be a long night and I needed a caffeine buzz to stay with it.

The upper parking lot near the trailhead was completely deserted. I pressed my foot on the brake to turn off the road and move into it. Instead of pushing in gently, the pedal slammed straight to the floor. I gasped, my hands going wet and gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. The car accelerated, heading downhill toward an s-curve and I screamed, forcing one clenched hand off the wheel so I could pull the emergency brake.

It didn’t catch. My trusty sedan steered straight into a tree, coming to a jarring halt. My vision went fuzzy. Before I slipped into unconsciousness, the scent of gas teased my nostrils.

I wanted to get out of bed, but couldn’t. Someone had trapped me in the covers. My face was under them, too, and I couldn’t breathe. Hot, stagnant wind filled my nose and I choked, breathing in dust. Why was there dust in my bed?

What?

Forcing my eyes open, I saw white. Just white. Then, at the corner of my eye, a flicker of flames. I couldn’t see straight, felt blood dripping from my scalp and down into my mouth where it pooled, thick and coppery. I gagged, pulling back and reaching out with my hands to push the air bag from my face while I spit out my blood.