Chapter 11

T he sky overhead was clear, cloudless and baby blue. Though the sun beat down with relentless heat, riding on the bike of Jace's Harley provided a sufficient breeze.

Gradually, she lost her fear and began to relax, her grip loosening around his lean waist. Kara began to notice things she'd never seen while driving, or riding shotgun with friends. Horses grazing in a pasture off the highway. The way the sunlight glinted off the smooth surface of a drainage lake. How the pine trees clustered together seemed to stand aloof and alone, devoid of wildlife, until she saw a lone osprey perched on a pine bough. The clean, fresh smell of newly mowed grass.

Jace stuck to the back roads instead of the interstate to "get her used to riding."

This was not the busy Florida she knew, with concrete streets, sandy beaches and traffic. This was a different Florida, with plenty of wide-open spaces, and palm-tree farms that bordered orange groves.

Kara grew more appreciative of her home state as she clung to Jace's back.

He stopped in Manatee Island. Jace pulled into the crowded parking lot of the marina and aquarium. She eased off the motorcycle, her bottom a little sore, her nerves still rattled by their narrow escape from the clubhouse.

Jace removed his helmet and dismounted. He turned, her reflection showing in his mirrored sunglasses.

"Jarrett sent an Uber here with your suitcase. Good ol' Louis Vuitton won't fit in the saddlebags, but you can take what you need from the suitcase and leave it here with Brandy, the director. She's going to bring us snacks and water for the road as well."

She removed her backpack from the leather saddlebag and hoisted it over one shoulder. "I've met Brandy at fundraisers for the sea-turtle hospital."

"Jarrett said she's a good person and can be trusted."

Could anyone truly be trusted?

Wincing, she walked bow-legged toward the building. Jace stood back, a wide grin on his face.

Kara scowled. "What are you looking at?"

"You look like a greenhorn after her first long horse ride."

"My bottom hurts."

"Want me to rub it?" He winked.

Kara started to frown and make a snappy reply, but decided against it. "Not unless you plan to get naked."

Behind the mirrored sunglasses, his expression was difficult to read, but his breath hitched.

"Don't tempt me," he muttered.

The sun felt warm on her bare arms as she stretched, working out the kinks in her legs and arms. Kara felt as if she had been running for days on adrenaline and caffeine. Jace, on the other hand, looked a little windblown, but handsome and deliciously rugged. It wasn't fair. Men could make a bad-hair day look like a good-hair day and lack of sleep only made Jace's blue gaze heavy-lidded and sexy.

The way he used to look at her right before they made love.

Not a good thought to entertain right now.

Jace headed for the building, then pulled on the door. Locked. He squinted in the sunlight at the handmade sign on the door.

Closed for Renovations. See You Next Month!

He walked over to some bushes, retrieved her suitcase and handed it to her. Kara kneeled and unzipped it, and removed necessary toiletries and clothing, stuffing them into the backpack.

"The rest can't fit, but I'll leave it here. Brandy is supposed to meet us here?"

Jace ran a hand through his long hair. "She's probably on her way to meet us. I have to make a call, Kara."

He indicated a picnic table set beneath the shade of sprawling trees.

"Go wait over there, and I'll be back."

Gripping his cell phone, he walked a short distance away. Close enough for her to still see him, but far enough for privacy. Kara wondered what kind of business calls he made. More and more she doubted Jace had embraced the criminal lifestyle of the other Devil's Patrol members.

But what was he doing, associating with them? Certainly there were other bike clubs he could join to indulge his love of motorcycles.

The parking lot had only a few trucks with empty boat trailers. Another truck pulled into the graveled lot, parked closer to the aquarium. A man wearing a tan ball cap, faded khaki shorts and a white T-shirt climbed out and fetched a fishing pole from the back. The pole looked expensive, even from a distance.

Jace rejoined her, studying the newcomer with intensity. He fiddled with his sunglasses.

"Something about that guy," he mused. "Did he just get here?"

Kara nodded.

As the fisherman walked down the dock, Kara's unease grew. Something seemed off. On the surface, it was a serene place to stop and rest, with the clear blue sky overhead, the brilliant sun, the water gently lapping at the pilings. Yet she felt anxious.

Making an impatient sound, Jace shook his head. "We can't wait much longer. This is odd. Brandy seemed reliable. Let me call her... Damn, signal's weak in this spot."

Kara watched him as he headed into the sun, pacing back and forth.

Returning to her, he pocketed his cell phone. "Brandy got delayed. She apologized for not meeting us."

Kara's stomach rumbled. "I guess I should have eaten back at Mom's but I was too upset."

He reached over, ran a thumb across her cheek, making her shiver. Once his touch had drawn them closer. Now, it only served as a reminder of what they had lost.

She pulled away and climbed down from the table. "Where is she?"

The frown denting his forehead made her uneasy. He removed his sunglasses, his gaze hard against the glare from the water. "She's at least twenty minutes out. I don't think we should wait."

"Me, either."

He scanned the marina and his gaze landed on the fisherman, who set his fishing pole into a holder at the dock. Jace's body tensed.

"See that guy over there?"

She nodded.

"Notice anything unusual?"

Her stomach did a flip-flop from anxiety instead of hunger. "He's fishing without any tackle. Or bait. Just the lure on his pole."

"Right. Let's get the hell out of here."

As they headed back to the bike, Jace kept looking at the fisherman, who had turned to watch them. The man seemed to sense their departure, for he abruptly abandoned his fishing pole.

Jace quickened their pace. "Hurry," he urged her.

Kara ran to the motorcycle, put her pack into a saddlebag and then climbed on. She put on the helmet as Jace reached for the handgun tucked into the side of his jeans. Not caring about his obvious interest, the fisherman hurried down the dock, but suddenly, as if by a stroke of good luck, his pole jerked in the holder.

"You got one," Jace called out. "Better run if you don't want your gear in the drink."

As Jace tucked his gun away, mounted the bike and then started the engine, she heard the man's curses as he did an about-face and ran to his fishing pole. It suddenly flew out of the holder and into the water.

Kara didn't look back to see if the man followed his pole into the bay to retrieve it as they roared off, heading on the causeway toward the interstate again.

It was probably nothing. Only her tired and quite overactive imagination seeing shadows behind shadows.

But she had a bad feeling about all this. Someone was following them.

Kara hugged him tight as Jace headed north on the interstate, making good time.

His quick call to his boss proved worrisome. Word on the street had spread about the clubhouse murder and Dylan was a suspect. The local law enforcement, local LEOs, as they called them, wanted him for questioning.

If the DP discovered Dylan had seen Marcus, that put him in even more peril, more than simply taking the jewelry they had stolen.

The incident at the aquarium rattled him. Perhaps it was all innocent and the fisherman was waiting for someone else or playing a part, maybe even a private detective spying on one of the yachts anchored close to the marina. However, paranoia proved healthy in the past. Had the guy come after him when Jace was alone, he could have easily taken him. Perhaps gotten some answers as to who was following him.

With Kara, he didn't dare take chances. Maybe it was better that way because, as his boss always warned, Jace could sometimes throw caution to the wind.

It was one reason Rafe had hesitated to assign him to this case. If not for Jace's family background and his old man being a member of an outlaw bike club, Rafe would have selected someone else.

Kara had no clue what this was truly all about. One thing about his ex—once she dug her heels in, she stayed. Even when it grew dicey. Especially when her family was concerned.

If he had pushed even a little to stay together and asked her to work things out instead of walking away six years ago, Jace knew she'd have caved. But he hadn't. Too many times in the past had he built those walls to keep from getting hurt, like his family had hurt him. His family, who were so different from Kara's.

He thought about the warm reception her mother gave him. Damn, he held strong affection for both her parents. Claudia and Chuck treated him like a son, and when he and Kara broke it off, he missed them as much as he missed Kara.

Claudia had been more of a mother to him than his own mom, fussing about him, always worrying, ensuring his favorite meals were cooked when he came over. Inviting him on their family excursions.

He'd even traveled with them to the Bahamas to stay in their vacation house. Chuck invited him fishing and they'd had some mighty fine male bonding that day on the deep blue sea. Caught a few good snappers and had a great time grilling them later for the ladies.

They made a couple of stops for snacks and drinks, but Jace kept pushing on.

Finally, much later, knowing she needed to eat, Jace pulled into the parking lot of a small diner in a small town. It seemed safer here, more anonymous.

The DP had a long arm in Florida and he intended to avoid that arm.

As Kara walked inside to use the restroom, his cell rang. Lance again. Jace went outside. This time, he stabbed the answer button. This was a convo best had in private.

"Yeah, Lance. Thanks for trashing my place."

A volley of foul words followed.

"You think what the guys did to your sofa is bad, Gator? When they catch you they're going to cut you into so many pieces the gators will have trouble finding all of you."

The man's voice lowered. "There'll be nothing left of you to bury. Not even bones. Your own mother won't recognize you."

"Sure." He managed to sound bored. "She won't give a damn. You'll never find the jewels that way."

He expected more swearing but heard only silence. Finally, Lance said, "Go on."

"If I stole your stash, and killed those kids, think I'd bother talking to you? I think I know where the kid is and I'm going to find him and get the jewelry back."

"Where's Dylan, you bastard? I warned you to watch him!"

Jace released his own string of swear words. "I couldn't watch him every second. What the hell do you want from me?"

"Your life, you bastard, if you don't find Dylan. Find him, or you're dead meat."

Lance hung up.

Blowing out a breath, he pocketed the phone. That went well .

The diner wasn't busy this time of night and he was glad of it. Jace ordered a burger, medium rare, with a salad, then excused himself to the restroom. After, he called Rafe. No answer. Worry needled him. His boss never shut off his cell phone.

After he finished eating, Jace glanced at the round clock over the diner's counter. Nearly eight, and Kara's head was bobbing over the bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich she was struggling to finish.

Jace consulted the internet and found a small motel. He tossed a few bills on the table, took a long swig of his iced tea and slid out from the booth. "Come on. We need to find a place to crash before you fall off the bike."

A few miles later, they pulled into the motel parking lot. Only two other vehicles were parked, and they were closer to the office of the U-shaped motel. Jace's practiced eye roved over the tiny office as he went inside, saw the bulletproof glass shielding the sleepy desk clerk who came out to answer the bell Jace rang.

Seeing Kara, the clerk immediately perked up. He smoothed down his oily hair, flashed a grin in Kara's direction that raised Jace's suspicions.

"Hello. Need a room for the evening...or the hour?"

The man's sly grin widened as he stared at Kara.

"All night long." Jace locked gazes with the man and didn't drop his until the man did.

Jace turned to Kara. "Honey, why don't you wait outside in the fresh air?"

The clerk told him the amount. Jace opened his wallet and thumbed out the cash.

"Nice bike," the man suddenly said. "Been riding a while?"

Kara yawned and rubbed her bottom. Jace caught a glimpse of well-known ink on the man's arm. Devil horns in crimson with a snake threading through them.

Guy was a DP. Damn. Yet maybe not. He might be a wannabe or prospect.

"A while. You ride?" Jace asked.

"Had to sell my bike." The man's gaze sharpened on his face, then he looked him up and down.

Jace didn't like how the guy picked up his phone and studied it intently, as if getting word of the Rapture. All his instincts warned this dude was no good.

He needed to toss him a little misdirection in case the clerk was connected to the DP.

Jace picked up the motel key. "Going to Texas but first dropping this little lady off at a friend's. Got a little business to do—and I don't want the company. Not until tomorrow morning, after we both have a little fun."

Filled with distaste, Jace winked at the man.

The clerk nodded, counted the cash and put it away. Already his interest was elsewhere. "Have a good night."

Jace opened the office door but saw in the glass the clerk get on his cell phone. Not good.

Best to leave, now...

Aw, damn.

Sitting on the curb, Kara had propped up her chin on one fist, her eyes closed. She was dead tired.

Getting her to ride was impossible and risky. She'd fall off. No choice but to stay here for her to catch a few z's.

Arm around her waist as he supported Kara, remembering happier times when they'd snagged a room for the night to enhance their romance, he helped her into Number 9.

Soon as they got inside, he set Kara on her feet and yanked down the threadbare bedspread. His ex, whose expense budget probably covered five-star resorts with mints on the pillow and Egyptian cotton sheets, fell onto the lumpy bed and was instantly asleep. He removed her sneakers. Jace shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it over a chair at the scratched desk. He went outside, parked the bike in front of their room and grabbed their knapsacks from the bike's saddlebags.

Jace made sure to lock the door. He checked the exits—window by the bed. It overlooked a dark alleyway. Not good.

Sighing, he rubbed a hand through his hair. He grabbed shampoo from his bag and stripped, then stepped into the shower. Water spurted out. At least the pressure was good. He showered, using the postage-size soap the motel kindly provided, and washed the day's strain out of his hair.

Minutes later, he padded into the room, feeling a little more revived.

Sleep was impossible right now. He'd lived without it before. More important that Kara rested.

Maybe he could blend in with lowlifes, but Kara stood out, a diamond among costume jewelry.

Not for the first time, Jace wondered if he should have swapped his bike for a rental car. But the bike was faster and he had to stay in character. Gator would never drive a car, and as far as he knew, Lance trusted him to find Dylan and the missing jewels.

He didn't want to stay here. He wanted to push on. But Kara needed rest. Jace accessed the internet using his phone and logged in to retrieve his messages.

Cold sweat trickled down his back.

Not only had the local law enforcement opened an investigation into the murders at the clubhouse, but he and Dylan were also wanted for questioning.

If he turned himself in, he'd blow his cover.

If he stayed in character, he risked arrest.

He couldn't turn himself in now. He was close to discovering Marcus's real identity. And there was Kara...who would simply continue onto Georgia without him, endangering herself.

Jace exhaled a sharp breath as he glanced at his ex. One hand was tucked beneath her smooth, flawless cheek. Her long hair spread out on the pillow. She was a breath of fresh air in a dirty, foul arena, the light floral scent of her perfume cutting through the smoky air and smell of old beer.

Stretching out next to her on the king-size bed, he tried to focus on resting. Fastidious Kara hadn't even blinked when he'd escorted her inside. No complaints.

He appreciated that side of her—hell, had appreciated it when they were together. Just never showed it. Maybe if he had, they'd still be together.

Suddenly he could no longer keep his eyes open. During his time with the Army Rangers, he'd trained himself to fall into REM sleep for short intervals. Jace lied down on the bed and in minutes, was fast asleep.

He woke to sounds of the shower running. Kara. Jace closed his eyes, wishing he didn't have such an active imagination.

When she emerged from the bathroom, he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

It seemed like minutes later he woke up. No reason.

Two o'clock. So much for a quick nap. He glanced at the luminous numbers on the ancient clock radio on the scratched bedside table. In her lacy bra and panties, Kara was lying on the lumpy king-size bed, fast asleep once more. Her delicate features had softened in sleep, losing the worry that had etched her expression since they'd left his apartment. Outside, light from the lone streetlamp illuminating the back alleyway spilled through the threadbare curtains. Kara breathed slowly and deeply, soothing his frayed nerves. At least she was safe now.

All his senses were on high alert. Spending the night here was not his preference, but Kara was exhausted.

Finally, he drifted off again.

A crunching noise outside awakened him like a gunshot. Jace bolted upright, glanced at the clock, every cell tingling a threat.

Nearly five. Glock in hand, he padded over to the window, lifted the dirty lace curtains with the back of his left hand. He could see clearly outside. In the darkness, he knew no one could see inside their room.

The narrow back alleyway, flanked by straggly trees and scrub brush, was little more than a dirt road mixed with old coral rock. In a thin wash of pale moonlight, he saw them. Two figures in black, striding down the alley. At the window of each room, they paused and peered inside. He didn't need to see their clothing to know they were wearing leather, and biker boots. Judging from how tall they were, one was Big Mike. The other, maybe Snake.

Looking for them.

A chill raced down his spine. Jace had insisted on the room at the end. Good thing, for the pair had started at the opposite end.

Pressing against the window, he held his breath as he watched the shadows creep closer. Pale moonlight dappled the ground as their boots crunched the gravel. Moonlight glinted off the metal barrels of the handguns they held.

Damn. He considered his next move. Stay here? Obviously not, for they'd be as good as dead. Flee, but where? They'd hear the bike, guess what happened and pursue them once more.

Unless... Jace smiled.

Dropping the curtain, he raced over to the bed, jiggled Kara awake with a gentle shake to her slim shoulders.

"Let's go."

Only two words, but she was awake, rubbing her eyes and drawing on her jeans and T-shirt. He made a brief, protesting sigh as all that lovely, pale skin was covered in cloth, but at the same time he was sheathing his sidearm in his back holster and grabbing their packs, heading toward the warped door.

"Do I have time for the bathroom?" she whispered.

"No."

No protests from her as she raced outside with him. Jace opened the saddlebags and tossed their gear inside. He held a finger to his mouth. She walked with him as he wheeled his bike away.

At the edge of the lot, he stopped.

"Get on," he whispered. "I'll be right back."

Fishing a big knife out of his duffel, he ran over to the two bikes parked by the motel office. One, two and the deed was done. Air hissed out of the tires he'd punctured.

Jason ran back to his bike and started the engine. Sweet deal, it turned over easily. He grinned as he accelerated out of the parking lot, craned his neck to turn and see the two men run around the side of the motel and head for their bikes.

Seemed like Big Mike shook a meaty fist at him in the rearview mirror.

"Won't they follow us?" Kara pushed back her hair.

"It'll be a few hours until they can get those fixed. We'll be long gone," he assured Kara.

"How did they find us?"

"I don't know. But I sure as hell am going to find out."

He stopped at a 24-hour convenience store and escorted Kara inside toward the restroom. Keeping an eye on the women's room door, Jace bought a couple of colas and paid cash. The clerk, a kid in his teens, looked more interested in his phone than Jace.

Waiting for Kara, he paced the aisle and called his boss.

Rafe answered on the first ring. Finally.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.

A huge yawn. "Sorry, man. Phone died... It's been...a day."

"They found us. How, I have no clue. I took precautions. Lots of them," Jason warned.

"Damn. You know the local LEOs are looking for you. And Dylan."

"I know. Got my messages."

"You still headed to Georgia?"

"On our way."

"You need to come in," Rafe said suddenly.

Jace's heart sank. "No way, man. I've put too much into this case and so have you. I'm close, Rafe. Dylan contacted Kara and if I can get to him, I can get him to turn state's evidence. He witnessed the murders and he can ID Marcus. I'm the best chance you have at exposing this son of a bitch."

Silence for a moment, and then Rafe sighed. "Knew you'd say that. I'm no longer in south Florida. This is my op and I intend to see it through. Took the team to a small Georgia field office. Where you at?"

Jace told him. "I think they've got eyes on me, somehow. I hate getting rid of my bike, but I need new wheels."

"No problem. I'll handle it. Remember the abandoned warehouses where we did that raid two years ago and busted up the drug ring?" Rafe named a town in north Florida.

A small smile touched his face. "How could I forget it? It was my first op. Our first op together. A real meet cute, where we began our bromance."

But Rafe failed to laugh at the joke. "Good. Meet me there around, say, eight o'clock. We'll swap vehicles. Can you make it there by then?"

"I can, if I push it. Rafe, what's wrong?"

Rafe heaved a deep breath. "This op is going south, fast. Now, my best guy undercover is a wanted man and Darkling says the chatter has increased that Marcus has his target sighted and his plan is in motion."

Jace swore in a low voice as the women's restroom door opened. "What's the target?"

"Something public and wealthy. The rich will pay. That's all we got. Keep your head down and stay alert, Jace. I don't want to lose you."

Rafe hung up.

Jace palmed his cell as Kara joined him and took one of the cold colas from him.

The game had suddenly gotten a whole lot deadlier. He needed to get to Dylan and get Kara away where she wouldn't be endangered.

Before both of them ended up dead.