When he guards, p.21
When He Guards, page 21
His head turned. His gaze held Agnes’s. “I’ll make sure he’s not a problem for anyone again.” His fingers curled around hers. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
But when he tugged her, she didn’t move.
“Agnes?”
“I kinda wanted a tat.”
“What?”
“Yours look really good. All tough and badass. I had worked up my nerve, and I was ready for one.” But the tattoo artist was still out cold. Not like she’d trust him to come at her with a needle now, either, so…
“Rain check,” Cass told her. “We’ll get matching ones.”
She quirked a brow. “Now you’re just teasing. You’re literally being a tattoo tease.”
“You’re stalling.” He tugged again. This time, he pulled her closer to him. “Why?”
Because when she’d glanced at the wall of tats, she’d recognized one. One of the dragons with the detailed scales, and she knew that they might have another problem. “He’s really good at scales,” she whispered.
Cass frowned.
Before she could speak again, they heard the roar of a motorcycle. Just another one of Cass’s gang closing in, right? But…
Her goosebumps were getting worse. If I’m right about that particular dragon tattoo, then that new rider might not belong to Cass’s crew. And…I think I might know who our visitor is. Someone who’d been doing some hunting of his own. Hunting that had led to Raz’s tattoo shop.
He’d been hunting and he kept this from me…typical. Very, very typical of her overprotective…brother. If I’m right…If I’m right…
Bear ducked out of the parlor, then bobbed right back inside. “He’s not one of ours.”
This was going to be bad. She could feel it inside.
“Hendrix?” Cass instantly demanded. “Part of his crew?”
“Don’t know. The SOB is coming right at the shop,” Bear fired out.
Cass’s jaw locked. He gently pushed Agnes toward Javion. “Keep her inside.”
“No,” Agnes said immediately.
“Princess, you keep that sweet ass of yours inside this place. I don’t know what I’m facing.”
She ran to the window in the front of the small parlor. She peered through the blinds. Saw the man on the massive motorcycle. Saw the black jacket. The black helmet. Saw him stand up, take off the helmet. And the light hit his dark hair. Then his face as he turned toward them.
Her breath caught. “You can’t fight him.”
“If he’s part of Hendrix’s crew, hell, yes, I can.” Cass stalked for the door.
She jumped in front of him. “No, no, you aren’t listening to me. You can’t fight him.” Her feverish gaze searched his. She’d trusted him with the scene at the tattoo shop. She needed him to trust her now because she could not just spill all right then, not with both Bear and Javion watching and with Raz groaning and his eyelids flickering as he started to wake up on the floor.
She grabbed Cass and hauled him close. Agnes shot onto her tiptoes. His hands flew to her waist as she planted a desperate kiss on his mouth, hard and fast, and then her mouth darted toward his ear. “Trust me,” she breathed. Pleaded. Demanded.
His grip tightened on her waist.
Trust. That was what it came down to with them. He had to trust her. Or else everything was about to blow up in their faces.
Cass carefully shifted her to the side. “Bear, there’s a storage room in the back. Drag Raz in there and secure him.”
Bear immediately stepped forward.
“Javion, keep her in here. If she gets anywhere near danger, I am holding you personally responsible.”
“Shit.” From Javion.
“She does not walk out that front door,” Cass emphasized.
“Understood.”
Uh, no, nothing was understood. “I’m the one who saved your ass last time! You don’t bench a good player when the game gets intense!”
Cass sent her a hard frown. “You protect your most valuable asset. Always. Now stay the fuck in here.” He slipped around her and reached for the door.
“You don’t even have a shirt on!” Agnes snapped.
Axel popped into the doorway. Yes, she’d finally gotten good at attaching the names to all the crew members. Or at least, she’d learned the ones who’d challenged Cass in that fierce fight scene. “We’ve got unwelcome company,” Axel announced.
Uh, yes, Bear had told them already.
“Not someone I recognize.” He tossed a black t-shirt at Cass. A t-shirt and a gun.
Instead of putting on the t-shirt, Cass wrapped it around the gun. The better to hide his weapon.
No, no, no. “Cass…”
He looked back at her.
Then he winked.
And he walked away.
Agnes immediately lunged after him.
“Nope.” Javion locked his hands around her waist and hauled her back. “Can we take a moment and deeply analyze what he meant when he said I would be held ‘personally responsible’ should you rush out there?”
Chapter Twenty
It took a lot of balls for someone to stand off against the Night Strikers. But the prick who’d just rolled in, parked his beast of a Harley, and was now sauntering toward Cass with his black helmet tucked under the curve of his left arm…this guy showed not a hint of fear at all. In fact, as he drew closer, the only emotion that he did show…
That would be rage.
Rage glittered in his brown eyes. The sun was still up, still hanging in the sky, though definitely dipping lower now, and Cass could clearly see the man’s hard features. His black hair. The slight crook in his nose that had probably come from a fight.
Tattoos swirled on the man’s fingers. Dipping beneath the sleeves of his black coat. The guy was close to Cass’s build. Same height. Shoulders about as wide. They seemed to probably be the same age.
The stranger stopped about five feet away from Cass. Cass was aware that his crew was watching. He’d given them the sign to stand down as soon as he walked out.
Agnes knew this prick, he got that. So Cass figured he must be staring at some undercover Fed. The dumbass should have known better than to come in for a confrontation. Had Gray sent the dude? Was this about Levi’s dead body? Or, hell, maybe they’d found Hugo. Sonofabitch.
The stranger swept his gaze over Cass, seemed to take in his measure, and then the guy’s jaw hardened even more before he gritted, “You’re in my way.”
“Am I?” Cass let his brows climb. “You here for a tat?” They were in a semi-busy area. An old strip mall with a few shops left in it. The tattoo parlor. A barber shop. A liquor store. So there were civilians around who might notice if Cass just beat the hell out of a stranger. And then those civilians might do something problematic like call the cops.
If this guy was a Fed, then Cass should probably not beat the hell out of him. Plus, he didn’t want Agnes mad.
Trust me. She’d trusted him in the tattoo parlor. Now he was supposed to show the same faith to her.
“Not here for a tat,” the man rumbled right back. “I’m here for her.”
Cass blinked. “I think you’re gonna want to repeat that line.” Hard. Intimidating.
The man stepped forward with zero fear. “I’m here,” he said, very clearly, “for her. I know Agnes is inside. There is no way she’d be far away from you. I tracked you two, I saw the bodies you left, and I am not fucking leaving here without her.”
Oh, but this prick was making things hard. “I’m trying not to beat the ever-loving-hell out of you,” Cass told him, meaning the words. He gripped the t-shirt Axel had given him in his right hand. The t-shirt and the gun. Axel had clearly expected for this scene to go sideways, and he’d wanted Cass to be prepared. “But you are making things difficult.”
“Agnes,” the man snapped.
“Who the fuck are you?” Cass snapped right back. “And why do you want to see my lady?”
“Because I’ve got unfinished business with her.” Angry.
And Cass realized that maybe he wasn’t looking at a Fed. Maybe he was looking at someone the Feds had targeted. Agnes had told him a bit about some of her cases, enough for him to know that dangerous people were pissed at her. If this prick had been tracking her…hell, their public scene in Atlanta would have attracted a lot of attention. Maybe an old enemy of hers had come out of the woodwork.
“Consider your business finished,” Cass informed him flatly. You will see her over my cold, dead body. “Get on your bike. Drive the hell out of here while you still can.” He was attempting to give the man helpful life advice. As in, advice to help the jerk keep living his life.
The man’s muddy brown gaze dipped to the bandage on Cass’s shoulder. “What the hell were you doing? Stopping for a fresh tat?”
Nah. He’d been bandaging a bullet wound and getting answers. It had taken Cass far too long to work his way in with the Twins. In fact, Levi had been his in. Cass had never liked the prick, but he’d seen the two-headed tat on the guy, and he’d known that he could use Levi. So he’d poached the man from a different MC. Brought him in the Strikers and then used Levi and his connections to work his way into the Twins for initiation.
The initiation? Fucking brutal.
But he wasn’t thinking about that shit now. He couldn’t.
He had to deal with the SOB in front of him who was not getting to Agnes. Javion had better do his job and keep the woman inside until the scene was clear. “I do like my ink,” Cass allowed in response to the stranger’s question about getting a fresh tat. But, no, he hadn’t come to the shop for ink. He’d come for answers.
He’d thought the tattoos might be the key. Yes, there were other artists that would ink the members of the Twins, but Raz was the best damn tattoo artist out there. A freaking Rembrandt, as Agnes had described, compared to the others. And if they were looking for the two sadistic pricks at the top of the food chain, then Cass had figured those guys would only get their snakes designed by the very best.
And now he had names.
My own damn uncle. A man who should have rotted to just bones in a ravine. Except Levi had tried to say the SOB was still out there, still alive.
And the second name belonged to Bayne Hendrix. A prick who kept popping up in the wrong places. Cass had never seen Bayne without his leather coat. Never had a chance to look at the man’s arms to see if he was tatted with a two-headed snake.
But I will be facing off with him very soon.
After he was finished with his current problem.
“So what did you get this time?” The stranger kept his helmet tucked under his arm. “Let me guess…” He nodded when Cass remained silent. “By any chance, would it have been a two-headed snake? A cobra?”
Then the arm that held the helmet shifted. He grabbed the helmet with his opposite hand, and when the sleeve of his coat rode up a bit, Cass caught sight of black ink. Scales.
Claws?
Not a snake, but something big with a whole lot of scales and razor-sharp claws. Had that been a freaking dragon?
And there had been some dragon tats pinned to the wall of Raz’s shop.
The stranger’s tat was hidden nearly as quickly as it was revealed.
Cass knew he had to tread carefully so… “Maybe,” Cass allowed. “Do you happen to sport one of those yourself? You got a two-headed snake twined on your body?”
“No.” Brittle. “Because I’m not a murdering bastard. This is your last warning. Get out of my way. I’m getting to Agnes.”
“I am a murdering bastard.” It was what the world saw. Not Agnes, though. She keeps telling me that I’m not the villain because she is absolutely adorable like that. “You’ll find out that truth if you don’t back your ass up and get the hell out of here in the next five seconds.”
“This isn’t Night Striker territory. You belong on the East Coast."
“I belong anywhere I want.” Five, four, three…It was Cass’s turn to shift his stance a bit, too. Or rather, his turn to move his arm and pull back the t-shirt that Axel had given to him so that Cass could reveal the weapon he held. Two and one…
His new enemy glared down at the gun. “Gonna shoot me right here? With witnesses around?”
“Not if you follow directions. Your time is up, though, and my finger is itching.”
“I’m not armed. Didn’t come out here with a weapon.” The man put his helmet on the ground and slowly lifted both of his hands. Except, he didn’t raise them with his palms out, the way perps usually showed cops that they weren’t a threat. His hands lifted. Both hands. Each hand quickly formed an L shape. The guy’s right hand rose toward his chin. His thumb brushed across the faint cleft there, only for the right hand to dip in a fall and tap on top of his still L-shaped left hand. He did the move only once, before both of his hands dropped back to his sides.
Sonofabitch.
Cass’s heart raced faster. No way had he just seen the sign that he thought he’d seen. But, then again, he knew his sign language. His mother had made sure of that. He’d been signing before he’d ever spoken. And this prick before him—the guy knew enough about Cass to realize that he could communicate with him this way.
“She won’t appreciate you shooting me,” the man said, his voice low and rough and carrying only to Cass. “In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s an unforgivable sin in her eyes. You pull that trigger, and you may as well be the one who is dead to her.”
“Javion, I want us to be friends, I really do.” Agnes peered through the window blinds and tried to figure out what in the heck was happening outside. Currently, a lot of bikers were watching the standoff between the two big men about twenty feet from the front of the tattoo parlor. “But if you don’t get away from that door and let me out, we are going to have a problem.”
“Personally. Responsible.” His retort. Basically, the same retort he’d given her before. After that retort, she’d elbowed her way out of his grip, and he’d taken up a guard position near the front door. “That means Cass will personally rip out my spine and shove it down my throat if you get out this door. I don’t want my spine ripped out, so I’m following orders. And we are not friends. We met like four days ago.”
“Some friendships happen really fast. Thought that was what we had going on.” Her eyes narrowed. Cass and Ryan were having a stand-off. She could see Ryan’s lips moving, but she had zero idea what he was saying.
How in the world is my brother here? But he was. As soon as he’d taken off that helmet, and she’d seen his beloved, crooked nose—uh, her fault, by the way. An accident when she’d fallen out of a treehouse as a kid and he’d caught her and her flying foot.
As soon as she’d seen his face in that parking lot, she’d felt like she’d just gotten walloped in the stomach. Her brother should not be there. He should not be riding around on a motorcycle. And he should not be facing off with Cass while her lover held a gun.
Lover.
Her brother and her lover were about to kill each other. Talk about a nightmare situation.
“I need to read lips. Stat.” Agnes wished that she possessed his mom’s superpower. But she didn’t know how to read lips. Not at all. She’d just focused on learning sign language once she’d realized that she needed to team up with Cass. And she’d only learned basics. Not like she knew how to have a whole long conversation in sign language or anything.
Ryan lifted his hands.
“No weapons,” she whispered. “So don’t shoot him, Cass.” Trust me.
“That fucker has weapons on him. He might not have them in his hands, but he has weapons.” Certainty from Javion. He was peeking out the open front door. A very slightly open front door. One he’d cracked open a few inches, the better for him to keep tabs on the scene outside.
It was a door she needed to exit.
Not like there is just one door in this place, Agnes. There has to be a back door, too. Bear had gone toward the rear of the parlor, with Raz. Bear hadn’t come back yet.
Her eyes narrowed as she watched Ryan bring his thumb to his chin. Her breath shuddered out. Sister. He’s signing to Cass that I’m his sister. Not like she could have blurted out that the biker closing in on the shop was her big brother. She just didn’t trust Javion and Bear and certainly not Raz with that kind of information.
Ryan…her brother worked deep cover ops. But usually, those deep cover jobs were overseas. They involved cases with the CIA. No way should he have been posing as a—well, what was he? An MC wannabe?
Cass didn’t lower his weapon after her brother signed, and that was bad. He should have lowered the gun. Cass was supposed to trust her.
She and Cass—they needed more time alone. Time to talk. To really clear the air and share every secret that they had. It was just that, when they actually were alone, they were either, uh, fucking…or being attacked. Their locations kept being leaked.
And how in the heck did Ryan find me?
Which gave her a really, really bad feeling in her gut. Because if Ryan was there, then her other brother could not be far behind. Those two were often a package deal.
Uh, oh. “I need to get outside,” she snapped to Javion.
“Cass wants you in here.”
“Yes, but Cass doesn’t understand the full threats that he could be facing.” She only saw Ryan. Where in the heck was Nash?
Had Gray ratted her out to her brothers? He must have. She knew Gray and Ryan had served together in the Marines. She’d wondered on more than one occasion if Ryan had pushed Gray to bring her on the team. It would just be like his interfering, overprotective self. But, since she happened to like working with Gray, she’d let the matter slide.
She would not be letting anything slide again. And did Ryan have anything to do with Gray keeping quiet about the Twins being a serial killing pair? Her instincts said yes. Especially with Ryan being outside, clearly on the hunt himself.
There was a loud crash from the back of the shop. Her head turned toward the sound. Javion didn’t react to it at all. “Uh, shouldn’t you run and check that out?” And leave the front door open and unguarded for me?
