Then he got a sly look in his eyes. “If I go with you, you won’t be alone.”
She had to laugh at his cleverness. “No. I’ll only be gone a minute. Get back in the house or I won’t let you have that sleepover at Dylan’s tonight.”
His face fell. “Aw, Kara. Dylan’s supposed to show me his new gaming system. Don’t be a jerk.”
“I won’t if you won’t. Now get!”
She herded her brother inside and closed the door. Conner was a perpetual thorn in her side. The kid was always trying to spoil her fun. Dylan, their cousin and his best friend, was the same. The two were closer than Kara would ever get to her little brother.
Her phone rang. Guilt speared her as she glanced at caller ID. Mom. Kara walked away from the car to the driveway’s end, pretending to check on the mailbox.
“Everything’s fine, Mom. No need to keep calling me.”
“You know how I worry. We’ll be home by eleven tonight. Keep an eye on Conner. I know he’s a handful, honey. I wish we had hired someone to watch him...”
“We’re fine, Mom. Don’t worry.” She hung up.
Grinning, Kara ran to the 2010 Mustang, climbed in and turned the keys in the ignition. Oh wow, that engine purred like a contented kitten. She backed out of the immense driveway of her family’s house and headed down the quiet street, then hooked a left to access the main road leading to the bridge connecting to the mainland.
On the main road, she drummed her fingers, waiting. Now! Kara turned right and gunned the engine, hooting. This was bliss—new car, her life stretched out before her like the black ribbon of road. Sweet sixteen, indeed.
She pressed hard on the gas pedal and it responded beneath her foot. Kara laughed with joy. The light ahead turned yellow and she slowed, then stopped as it turned red. After counting five seconds, when the light turned green, she accelerated.
The motorcycle shot out of nowhere. Screaming, Kara heard a sickening crunch of metal and glass as the bike slammed into the passenger side. She braked, but the force of impact caused the car to fishtail and slam into a tree. Her seat belt pulled and the car’s airbags deployed.
Jerked forward, she felt pain as the seat belt held tight. Her head hit the glass, cushioned by the airbag. Moaning, she felt blood trickling down her temple. Kara glanced over and saw the crumpled form of the biker against the back window, his face smashed against the glass—blood, God, so much blood! Her gorge rose in her throat.
As the paramedics lifted her out of the car, she saw a small child on the pavement. Still. So still...
“No,” she cried out. How had her brother snuck into the car? She should have known he’d do it. Conner never listened to her...
“Stay still, miss,” one paramedic ordered.
The collar around her neck prevented her from moving much, but she saw enough. Saw the paramedics attending to her little brother. Saw one shake his head with a grim look.
“Conner,” she screamed.
It was a long time before she stopped screaming...
Chapter 1
Bad-boy biker coming through. Sure hope I look the part.
Wind in his long hair, sunshine overhead and nothing but road stretching ahead of him.
FBI agent Jason “Jace” Beckett smiled behind the windshield of his helmet as he roared on his Harley toward the Tiki Bar. Along with reputable motorcycle riders, the Devil’s Patrol lunched there every Sunday. Jace stood on a knife’s edge of acceptance into the outlaw motorcycle club. Infiltrating was key to his undercover assignment. Almost there. Today could be when Lance, the leader of the DP’s powerful Florida chapter, tested his loyalty and then Jace was no longer a prospect, but a member.
But as he headed to the bar through a less than desirable area of town, past crumbling buildings and gang graffiti that decorated walls, he spotted an older couple standing by an expensive sedan on the side of the road. Didn’t take eagle eyes to spot the problem—flat tire.
Or the potential problem. Their shiny, polished presence and their expensive vehicle made them stand out like diamonds in a trash heap.
Inwardly cursing, he pulled to a stop in front of them. Pulled off his helmet and placed it on the seat. Jace hurried over to them. If any Devil’s Patrol riding to the Tiki Bar saw them, the couple would be robbed. Or worse.
If any DP saw Jace aiding them, they’d be suspicious. To stay in character, he had to act like a total prick. But no way in hell was he leaving Ma and Pa America stranded here in this part of town, ripe for violence.
As he neared them, the couple backed off. The white-haired woman put a hand to her throat. Jace stopped, realizing their fears. He wasn’t a member of the Devil’s Patrol yet, but the Prospect patch on his jacket indicated he’d embraced the outlaw lifestyle.
“Got a spare and a jack in that trunk?” he asked.
The man’s shoulders relaxed, but the woman still shrank back. Jace gestured to the trunk. “Pop it.”
The man obliged. Jace pulled out the spare and the jack, relieved they at least had the equipment, if they lacked the knowledge.
“We called the auto club, but they said it would be at least an hour.” The woman, who had followed her husband to the trunk, had a quavering note in her voice.
“One hour in this place is not a good idea.” Jace set about changing the tire as they stood by, wringing their hands.
In minutes he had the tire changed and the flat and jack tucked back into the trunk, which he closed with a firm hand. He glanced at the relief on their faces.
“Thank you, young man. May we give you something for your trouble?” The man pulled out his wallet and Jace glimpsed several bills.
He groaned. Why did people carry that much cash?
“No, thanks. Glad to help.”
The woman gave a real smile. “You remind me of our grandson. He’s a police officer. Always helping others.”
Terrific. If the DP saw this display of kindness, their impression of Jace as a potential member would turn to suspicion. Mistrust. They wouldn’t allow him into the club. Or worse, admit him and then when he happened to turn his back, slice him up and dump his body into the Everglades. Make him gator food so no one in his family could ID his body.
