Page 3 of Cutter

Clearing her throat, Emily pushed her chair back from the table and stood. Crossing her hands behind her back, she paced. He supposed she had to gather her wits as well.

Emily arched a perfect eyebrow. “Okay, Cutter is fine whenever our conversations are informal, but when higher-ups are present, I’ll call you Mr. Luka Zejak, and you’ll have to accept it. Is that clear?”

“Fair enough, Detective Mayhew.”

“Good. I think we understand each other.”

Looking at the open file, she flipped one document over, then glanced up and locked her dark blue gaze with his. “I have a proposition for you. Would you consider working with the Garden City police? I realize I’m taking a chance and asking for a lot.” She pressed her fingertips on the table. “As a rule, bikers don’t trust cops. Plus, your case was poorly handled?—”

“Poorly?” he blurted. “Lady. That’s the understatement of a lifetime.”

“You’re right. And I’m deeply sorry. I wish I could undo what happened, but I don’t have that power. I’m hoping that when you listen to what I have to say, you’ll be persuaded to help me.” She sat. “I really need your help with this investigation. Should you agree, you’d be working directly with me and no one else.” She grinned. “And I promise to call you Cutter whenever possible.”

Not in a million years had he expected to hear such a strange offer. Detective Mayhew had taken him completely by surprise. He studied her for a long minute. She held his scrutiny with aplomb. The detective was back in place; any trace of skittery shyness was gone. There was no evasion, nothing to make the hairs on his skin bristle with warning.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s going on?”

Frowning, she pointed at the black glass square on the wall. “Be assured this conversation is entirely between us. The observation room on the other side of the wall is empty. No one’slistening or watching. I locked that door before I came in here, and the keys are in my pocket.” She patted the side of her skirt. “I won’t be betrayed, nor will I risk this investigation because of negligence or unwanted listeners.” She sat back and dropped her elegant hands on the table. An air of mystery and intrigue floated in the room. He was all in.

“I’ve studied your club,” she continued. “Even though you wear the one-percenter patch, the Devils’ Spawn don’t quit fit the standard image of an outlaw MC. I don’t mean to offend you…” Shrugging one shoulder, she gave him an apologetic smile. “The Spawn reminds me of a group of mischievous grownup boys who’re essentially good guys, but on occasion get into hot water.”

Emily stood again, and Cutter watched her without interrupting.

“Since I joined the Garden City police, the Spawn’s most violent incident has been the fight at the warehouse, when you took the rap for your friend Blade.”

He scoffed under his breath, and she paused, shaking her head. “Nice try, but I don’t buy it. We were all aware of your sacrifice. However, that was your choice. In addition to that fight, the record shows some of your members have been pulled over for speeding, others for drunk and disorderly behavior, and some for minor shoplifting, which in most cases was resolved right away.” She turned to face him. “But none of you have engaged in major crimes, such as human trafficking, gun running, or doing business with drug cartels.”

“You’re right on all counts.” He nodded. “Blade has worked night and day to change the club’s activities and allegiance. He’d kick out anyone trying to stop the changeover.”

Privately, however, he recalled a rather recent event when two Devils’ Spawn went rogue and nearly tore the club apart. That night, MC justice had been served according to theirsacrosanct traditions and established laws. He’d never reveal that to the prim, proper, and cute little Detective Mayhew.

“A new outlaw outfit has setup shop in Pooler,” she said. “According to prelim reports, the club has ties with the Oquendo cartel. The little community to the west of I-95 has few resources and has asked for our help.”

“The Oquendos?” He gave a soft whistle.

“I’m afraid so.”

“I know Pooler,” he said. “Who’s come in?”

“They call themselves Sons of Chaos.”

He gawked. “What the… Someone’s been watching way too much TV.”

Emily chuckled. “Yep, they almost went over the edge of copyright infringement.”

“What do you want from me?”

“We need intel. Solid information we can act on.” She sighed. “Initially, I thought of infiltrating an undercover cop into Chaos. But…”

“Won’t work.” He waved a hand. “The MC lifestyle, language, and customs are tricky. A cop pretending to be a prospect would be made in seconds, and if the club has criminal leanings, you’d never see him again.”

“That was my fear.” She sat again. “When the incident at the convenience store was radioed in, and one of the officers reported what you had done for the victim, the lightbulb went on in my brain.”

“Meaning?”

“To be blunt, you’re a shoo-in. Made for the part. To the world, Luka ‘Cutter’ Zejak, Devils’ Spawn sergeant-at-arms, carries a well-known grudge against the law. He’s a rough biker who knows the ins and outs of the MC world better than most. But only a select few know the truth: he’s a decent man, loyal toa fault, and a fierce fighter capable of taking care of himself in a bad situation,” she finished quietly.

Damn, the little detective had him pegged. Worse, the heat on his face told him he’d blushed. So much for being a hardened biker.

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