Chapter 2

Two

Fletch

I stare down at my feet, trying to rein in the anger I'm feeling. Detective Inspector. Fuck . I always knew she'd make it. It was the reason I knew we'd never work. But I'd secretly hoped she'd made her own way in the world and not decided to live in her dad's shadow.

Her feet appear in my eye line, and I raise my head until I meet her glare. "I hope your officers are gonna tidy that up," I say, nodding at my bedroom, which is a complete mess.

"It looks tidier now than when we came in," she retorts, arching a brow.

"I take it you didn't find what you were looking for?"

"We will," she says with confidence. "You wanna know why?"

"Enlighten me," I say, keeping my tone bored.

"Because I'm good at what I do, Fletch. I'm gonna tear your little club apart piece by piece until each and every one of you is locked away."

I grin. "Is that right?"

"Enjoy the rest of your night . . . morning."

"I intend to," I mutter as she stalks away.

Another officer pulls me up from the ground and walks me downstairs to where the other brothers are. Axel looks at me, and I shake my head to let him know they didn't find anything. Gemma stops by Lexi. "You're the bent cop," she remarks, looking amused.

Lexi smirks. "Not bent, just not a copper anymore."

"Don't fucking speak to her," Axel barks, and an officer pushes him to sit down.

"Touchy," sneers Gemma. "His office next," she orders, and a few officers head that way.

"You're wasting your time," snaps Grizz.

"If I'm pissing you off," she replies, "which I think I am, then it's a job well done."

"What exactly are you looking for?" I ask.

"Anything associated with crime," she replies, staring down at her phone.

"So, you have no idea," I mutter, shaking my head.

It's another hour before everywhere is searched and nothing is found. We're uncuffed while Gemma fills out some paperwork, handing it over to Axel with a grin. "We'll be seeing you again soon."

Axel waits until they've cleared out before ordering everyone into church.

"At least they didn't find anything," I say as we sit in our usual seats.

"Not the fucking point," he spits. "I'm sick of them on our backs. While she's sniffing around, everything else stops."

There are a few groans from the men who probably have arrangements in place they'll now have to cancel. Luckily for me, I run the garage and everything there is legit. "How did you know that bitch?" demands Grizz, eyeing me. "I saw the way she avoided you and how you looked at her."

I sigh heavily. "She's an ex."

"Are you shitting me?" snaps Axel.

"From way before I joined the MC," I rush to add. "We were practically kids. I didn't know she'd even moved this way."

"Coincidence?" he demands.

"Completely," I reply. "She was at the hen do last night in The Bar, though."

"Christ," mutters Grizz. "Does she have a vendetta or anything?"

I shrug. "That's not an answer," snaps Axel.

I groan. "We didn't end on good terms."

"In what way?" he asks.

"Well, she wasn't taking a hint, so I had to make things clear."

"How exactly did you do that?" demands Grizz.

I glance down at my hands, picturing the hurt on Gemma's face the last time she saw me. "I screwed her best friend."

A few of the men laugh, but Axel doesn't look impressed. "And how did that go down?" he grits out.

"As you'd expect. Like a fucking lead balloon."

"Is she the type to target us because of what you did?"

I shake my head. "Nah," I reply. "She's all good. Besides, wouldn't she have already come for me by now?"

"Not if she didn't know where you were," Smoke points out.

"It wouldn't be hard to track me, I've been arrested enough times."

"Either way, she's not going away," mutters Grizz. "Any chance you can sweet talk her?"

I laugh. "She's made it clear how she feels about me," I reply.

"Wouldn't hurt to grovel a bit though," he adds.

I narrow my eyes. "You trying to punish me?"

He grins. "You know I like to see you squirm."

"He's got a point," Axel cuts in. "It wouldn't hurt to sort it out with her."

"She won't give a shit, Pres. It was ages ago, and besides, she's engaged."

"Brother, if I know anything about women, it's that they never get over anything like that. Now, go fucking apologise," he snaps.

Gemma

There wasn't one fucking thing at the club, not even a tenner's worth of weed. My superior glares at me while my father paces the room. "It's like they knew we were coming," I mutter feebly.

"Impossible," snaps my father. Everyone assumes I got to where I am because he's Chief of Police, but it's crap. He wouldn't give me a helping hand in anything, let alone a career where he feels I don't belong. Women don't belong in power. That's what he told me when I decided to go for the position of Sergeant. I did it anyway, moving well away from him and settling in Leeds. I worked my way up, not bothering to speak to him about my success because he'd only have pissed on my parade. Now, there's no hiding it.

When I turned up to interview for this position, he about shit his pants. And I'm certain I wasn't his first choice, not because I wasn't perfect for the role, but because he'd hate that I'd be proving him wrong. Luckily for me, I had plenty of people backing me, as well as a panel of eight other superior officers who clearly went against him.

"We knew there'd be a possibility they'd see us coming. Since Lexi Cooper, they've been hiding things much better. They're less cocky. We just keep up the pressure, and they'll slip up eventually," says Karen, my Chief Superintendent, and I give a nod. "Good work today. The plan went without a hitch. It just wasn't our day."

I get in my car and bang the steering wheel several times. "Fuckkkkk," I scream. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I was certain there'd be something in that clubhouse. They knew we were coming, and I don't give a fuck what my father says. They must have spies on the inside.

I start the engine, and it rumbles before dying. I groan, turning the key a second time. It splutters before coming to life, reminding me it's due an MOT. I'm almost home when the traffic lights turn red and my car dies again. I growl, turning the key and listening as the engine ticks over. "You piece of crap," I hiss when it refuses to start.

Glancing in my mirror at the long line of traffic, I wince as I put on the hazard lights before climbing out and opening the bonnet. I have no idea how to fix a car, but at least I can hide behind the hood until the traffic has cleared. The light changes to green and some cars begin to beep while others take their time to manoeuvre around me and into the second lane.

The rumble of motorbikes slows as they near me, and I close my eyes briefly when I see two Chaos Demons slow beside me. Fletch removes his helmet and gives me a big grin. "Car trouble?"

"Nope, I just love holding up traffic."

His friend removes his helmet and he also looks smug. "Pity you don't know a good mechanic." They share a laugh.

"Don't let me hold you up," I mutter, slamming the bonnet.

"You want a lift?" asks Fletch.

"No."

"You got recovery?" his friend asks, and I sigh, giving my head a small shake. I meant to sort it last month and kept putting it off. Fletch replaces his helmet, and I narrow my eyes. He's seriously just gonna leave me? He steers his bike in front of my car, up onto the pavement, and onto the forecourt of a garage. I glare at the big sign reading ‘Chaos Cars'. This must be God's way of pissing me off. "Oh, would you look at that," his friend says with a wink, "a garage."

"Yeah, well, thanks, but I can sort my own car out."

The biker shrugs and follows Fletch onto the forecourt. I watch as they dismount, then I pull out my mobile and call Peter, my fiancé. He answers on the fourth ring, but he sounds busy by his tone. "Yep?"

"Hey, it's me," I say, glancing around at the garage as both bikers are now pushing up the shutters on the front.

"I'm in a meeting," he says firmly.

"Right, it's just I've broken down."

"Jesus, Gemma," he spits, and I hear him moving around until a door opens and closes. "What did I say to you about upgrading that damn car?"

"Yeah, I know, but I love this car."

"It's a bloody hazard, and now, you've broken down. I'm calling the scrap guys to come and take it, and this weekend, we're going car shopping."

"I'd rather you just come help me."

"Help you?" he spits. "You realise I'm not a fucking mechanic, right?"

"I think it's the battery, I just need a jump start."

"Can't you ask someone passing?"

"I'm asking you," I hiss, trying to keep calm.

"I am at work," he spits, like I'm stupid. "Yah know what, your life is fucking chaos," he snaps, and I roll my eyes at the lecture I'm about to get. "Unless it's to do with that fucking job, you don't show any interest. I reminded you about the breakdown coverage, I told you to sort the car, and now look, you're calling me to come rescue you. Where are you?"

"I'll send you my location," I mutter, relieved to pull the phone away from my ear for a second's peace while I ping him.

"Are you kidding me?" he roars, and I wince at his tone. "You're right next to a fucking garage."

"I can't use them," I mumble, making sure to turn away in case Fletch is watching me. "We raided their place this morning."

"You better swallow that massive ego and ask them to look at your heap of shit car. I have an important job too." He disconnects, and I sigh heavily, turning back to face the garage.

I take a deep breath and shake out my shoulders before heading towards the small office connected to one side of the building. The rest is the workshop, and there are already two cars on the ramps.

I push open the door and step inside. Fletch looks up from the computer, and when he sees it's me, he looks back down and continues what he was doing.

"Erm," I sigh, "could you take a look at my car . . . please?"

He looks back to me, a smirk pulling at his lips. "We're busy."

"Right. When can you fit it in?"

He picks up a thick book and slams it on the counter. He opens it and stares at the bookings. "Maybe next week."

"Next week?" I almost screech.

He shrugs, slamming it closed again. "Sorry we couldn't help."

I growl. "Wait. Okay, fine. Next week is fine."

"It'll cost . . ." he adds, reopening the book and flicking through the pages.

"You don't even know what's wrong with it."

"I mean for the recovery."

I scoff. "It's right outside."

"Still . . . if it don't start, I gotta pay to have it moved onto the forecourt."

"You're taking the piss," I hiss.

"Like you were last night when you looked at me, begging me to kiss you."

I frown. "I was not."

He grins. "You forget, Snap, I know every inch of you, and I know what you wanted last night."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Are you kidding me?" I snap, stepping closer to the counter and slamming my hands on top to fix him with a glare. "You didn't even recognise me last night, so you don't know every inch of me, not anymore."

"You're right," he admits, "we should fix that."

I pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my shoulders out again to try and get rid of the tension building there. "Look, Fletch, can you fix my car or not? If you're going to be a dick about it, I'll find someone else."

He shrugs. "Fine, take care."

I clench my jaw tightly. "But it would be easier if you could help me out."

"Tell you what, Snap . . ." I watch as he lifts the partition in the counter and steps through. "I'll make you a deal." I swallow hard as he fills my space, and I instinctively lower my eyes to the floor. I don't know why he makes me feel so nervous. I haven't felt butterflies in my stomach since . . . him . I sigh out loud. Fletch places his finger under my chin, and I inhale sharply at the contact. He lifts my head so I have no choice but to look him in the eye.

"I'll look at your car today and drop the recovery charge if you meet me later." I'm already shaking my head and thinking up a hundred reasons why I should refuse. "No one needs to know," he adds. "I just wanna catch up with you. Hell, bring the fiancé if it makes you feel better." I almost laugh at the thought of Peter meeting Fletch. He'd think I was having a mental breakdown.

"Fine. Where?" He grins, pulling out his mobile and looking at me expectantly. "I'm not giving you my number," I say, this time unable to stop the small laugh that escapes me. "Do you know how bad that will look, how any of this will look?" I take a step back, allowing my brain to kick in and rescue me. "Eight o' clock at Miller's Barn Bar. A minute late and I'm gone," I say firmly.

He smirks again, and this time, it irritates me. "I only needed your number for the records," he says, nodding towards the book on the desk. "So we can call you when the car is ready."

Embarrassment creeps up over my cheeks, but I give a slight nod, snatching his mobile and quickly inputting my number. "Fine. There." I hand it back. "For car discussions only."

He bites his lower lip, that smile still in place. "Of course. Tonight, eight."