“If at any time you feel like you can’t handle it—any of it—you’re welcome to drop this case. There’ll be others.”
She leaned against the counter, weary from having to say the same thing over and over again. Their protectiveness was wearing her patience thin. “I’ll be fine.”
“Ready to ride?” Diaz asked.
“Whenever you are.” She was still touchy over his comments last night, but buried her feelings. Diaz was lead on this case. She didn’t want to appear childish, especially in front of Grange. They were in work mode now. She had to put her personal issues aside and work with him.
“Let’s go.”
She grabbed her bag and followed Spence, Diaz, and Grange outside and into the garage. But when she went for her bike, it wasn’t in its usual spot.
“Uh, where’s my bike?”
Grange smiled. So did Spence.
“Diaz traded it in.”
She whirled around to face Diaz. “You what?”
Diaz wore no expression on his face. “Your 883 was too small for a road trip. We’d be stopping every hundred miles for gas.”
She almost broke down in tears. “Do you know how hard I worked to save money to buy that bike?” It wasn’t brand-new, but it was hers. She’d picked it out herself. She loved that bike.
“I know. But you have to be realistic. This is for the job.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “It’s over in Stall Four.”
She blinked, then frowned. “What’s in Stall Four?”
“Your new bike.”
Still not understanding, all she could do was cock her head to the side and stare at Diaz. He finally had to grasp her by the shoulders and spin her around.
“Look, Jess.”
She did. But she didn’t believe what she saw. Her jaw gaped open. There, in Stall Four, was a bright, beautiful, brand-spankin’-new Harley 1200 Sportster, a bigger and more powerful bike than the one she’d had before.
“That’s mine?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s blue.” A beautiful pacific blue paint job. “And all that chrome.”
“Yeah. Figured you’d like that.”
She walked around the bike, gaping at all the features. The quick-release detachable windshield, the pillow-look touring seat—her butt was already saying “ahhh” at the sight of it. Air cleaner, pipes, cables, grips, handlebars, pegs—everything was upgraded from standard, all chromed out, gleaming and gorgeous.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, unable to keep the awe out of her voice.
Diaz came up next to her and her gaze shot up to his. He quickly turned away to look at the bike, but in that brief second she’d seen something in his eyes. Something hot.
“When did you do this?” she asked.
“Last night.”
“How?”
“I have friends in all the right places. And you need a bigger bike if you’re going to work cases. It would be inconvenient for us to pull over every couple of hours so you could fill the 883’s gas tank.”
That’s not why he’d done this. She wanted to hug him. Kiss him. And so much more.
“Thank you, Diaz,” she said, stepping between him and the bike, forcing him to look at her.
He shrugged, shoved his hands in the pocket of his pants. “No big deal. You ready to try it out?”
She grinned. “You know it.”
Grange wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Be careful.”
She nodded. “I will.”
She stowed her bag, climbed onto the bike, and fired it up, her entire body vibrating to the thrum of the engine. The immense power between her thighs never failed to turn her on. That Diaz had gifted her with this bike was more than she could fathom. Why had he done this? It wasn’t that much of an inconvenience to gas up more frequently. Her 883 would have sufficed. But this new bike? It was heaven. She wasn’t going to complain.
She’d find an appropriate way to thank him.
They took off, and she waved to Grange as they pulled down the long drive and through the gates. The Sportster had a lot of power behind it—much more than her smaller bike had. She had to rein in the urge to let the throttle out and see what this baby could really do. Especially while they were still within the confines of Dallas city limits. Instead, she followed Diaz, with Spence behind her, obeying the speed limit as they moved through the city. They took the highway the entire way, so no enjoying of scenery, just weaving in and out between cars and semis.
It didn’t matter. Jessie had a new bike, the wind in her face, the hum of the engine surrounding her, and she got to watch Diaz’s back in front of her, which gave her hours of uninterrupted time to ponder. And she had plenty to think about.
Like why he’d question her ability to handle this case one minute, and the next buy her a brand-new bike—one with some muscle behind it. If he had no confidence in her, why reward her with something like this beautiful machine?
And what was up with his sudden attention, when previously he hadn’t seemed to care what she did, or even paid attention to her when she was around? It wasn’t even like he was acting as a father figure—so not Diaz’s style anyway. No, it was more than that. Something different, intriguing. Exciting. Yet he acted as if he was irritated with her.
The man made her crazy.
Diaz signaled for them to pull over at a combination gas station/restaurant, which was a good thing because Jessie was getting hungry. She climbed off her bike, leaned back to stretch her legs, and watched Diaz frown over her shoulder.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He wasn’t looking at her, so she pivoted, saw two guys in a pickup leering and elbowing each other.
“What were they doing?”
“From what I could tell, checking out your ass.”
She grinned. “Oh. Ignore them. I do.”
“I don’t.” He started over to them, but Jessie stepped up, blocking his path.
“Are you serious? If you’re going to take on every guy who looks at me, this is going to be a long trip. Let it go, Diaz.”
“They’re assholes and they have no business looking at you that way.”
“Yes. But isn’t that what guys do?”
“Not this guy.”
She raised her brows. “Seriously. You’ve never given a girl with a nice ass a second look?”
He finally dragged his gaze away from the Neanderthals at the gas pump, and looked at her. “Not in the way they were checking you out.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Come on. I’m hungry. Come protect me from the leering diner patrons.”
Spence snorted and Diaz turned, shooting one last I-still-might-kill-you look at the two men before opening the door for Jessie.
Since it was about an hour and a half after the traditional lunch hour, the diner was practically empty. They slid into a booth at the corner of the restaurant. Jessie ordered coffee when the waitress stopped at their table to deliver menus. Diaz and Spence did the same.
“We’ve got about two hours before we arrive in Fayetteville,” Diaz said. “Why don’t you fill us in on what you know about the Devil’s Skulls?”
Jessie nodded. “Not much, really. My old bike broke down on one of the back roads outside Shreveport while I was on an early morning ride. I was about ready to hoof it to the nearest gas station when I heard the thunder of bikes approaching, so I stayed put. There were about thirty of them, Crush in the lead and his best friend Rex riding next to him. They pulled off while the rest of his gang continued into the next town. Crush and Rex helped me fix the bike, then escorted me into town. I ate breakfast with their gang.”
“Don’t you carry your cell phone?” Spence asked.
She nodded. “It didn’t work in that remote area. So I intended to start walking until I either reached a town or until my phone worked.”
“You shouldn’t ride by yourself, Jess. It’s too dangerous.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she replied, finishing off by sticking her tongue out at Diaz.
Diaz frowned. “Don’t call me that.”
“Then stop treating me like a kid. It’s pissing me off.”
Spence laughed.
“Shut up, Spence,” she said.
He held his hands up. “Can we help it if we still see you as the skinny little kid who first came to us?”
“I wasn’t skinny.”
“You were, too. And you had an attitude. Thought you knew everything about everything.”
“Did not.”
“Oh hell yes you did. You were our little diva with a chip on her shoulder. You didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to take classes and finish your education. You fought Grange every step of the way.”
He was right. She did. God, had she ever had an attitude back then. She’d been so lost. Thank God for Mac and the rest of the Wild Riders. God only knows what would have happened to her. “I did a damn fine job stealing that car.”
“Bullshit,” Spence said. “You might as well have called the police before breaking the driver’s side window. Mac said you made enough noise to wake the whole neighborhood. If he hadn’t grabbed you and hightailed your ass out of there, you’d have done time in juvie.”
“No, if he hadn’t scared the shit out of me by coming up behind me and jerking me away, I’d have hot-wired that Chevy and hauled ass out of there before anyone found me.”
Spence shook his head. “Brat. You’d have been toast.”
She smirked. “I’d have been gone. With wheels under me.”
“You’d have been caught at the next corner.”
She paused, laughed. “You’re probably right. I was so green.” So desperate. “But look how much I’ve learned since then.”
“Yeah. Now you’re a great thief,” Spence teased.
She snorted, turned to Diaz, who only frowned. He never did join in with the other guys’ teasing her, even when she was just a kid. Always remote, always quiet. Oh, he was boisterous enough with the other guys, just not with her. Never with her. He kept his distance, muttered a few words now and then. She always thought he disliked her.
Now? She wasn’t so sure.
“From our research into the Skulls, they have a rep as trouble-makers. Fights here and there, a bit of gun and knife activity during altercations, normal gang stuff,” Diaz said, obviously changing the subject. “From the packet Grange gave us we know they’re based out of Arkansas. So we start there as far as checking them out.”
Spence nodded. “Notoriety is a big thing. But they must be pretty low profile because I haven’t heard any bad news on them and I travel a lot in Arkansas.”
“We ran into some other biker groups when I rode with them,” Jessie said. “No altercations. Everyone kept their distance, but Crush and his gang didn’t seem to be looking for trouble.”
“And didn’t start any with you,” Spence noted.
“No, they didn’t. They found me on a fairly deserted stretch of road, too, so if they’d wanted to mess with me, they could have.”
Diaz heaved a heavy sigh. Jessie knew he was frustrated with her again, no doubt because he thought she took too many chances with her own safety. She supposed she should appreciate his concern, but she wished he was more confident in her abilities to take care of herself. She wasn’t some sheltered rich girl who didn’t know the ways of the world. She was streetwise, had grown up seeing and experiencing the worst. She knew what was up and how to avoid getting into dangerous situations. And if she somehow got into one, she knew how to get herself out.
“So maybe they were having an off day and decided to be nice,” Diaz said, not sounding convinced. “Because the intel we have managed to get on the Skulls said they’re brawlers, carry guns and knives, and spend a lot of time on the wrong side of the law.”