Page 1 of Philly
1
Callie Parks stopped her rental car beside a row of motorcycles and switched the engine off. Sweeping her gaze over the quiet parking lot, dread pooled in her stomach. Given the number of vehicles crowding the packed gravel space, she’d bet the members of the Falcon’s Rest motorcycle club were having a party.
Because of course they were.
Her luck sucked donkey balls sometimes.
She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she liked the members of the club. And she respected the hell out of what they’d made of themselves since returning to civilian life. All former military, the fifteen men now formed their own wild and slightly unruly family—a family that ran seven successful businesses in the smallish town of Mystery Lake, California.
There was a lot to admire about the group. That didn’t mean they felt the same about her, though.
The skirmish she’d prepared for had turned into a battle, and her armor needed to be up for the job. Flipping the visor down, she studied her reflection in the mirror. Shirt collar crisp and business suit immaculate—check. Simple but authentic jewelryaccenting her subtle but professional makeup—check. Hair straight and smooth—double-check. She’d had it done before leaving DC yesterday.
Assured that she appeared every inch the tough-as-nails professional she was, she took a deep breath and pulled up her emotional shields. The woman looking back at her was Special Agent in Charge Callie Parks. A rising star in the FBI white-collar crime division. An excellent markswoman. A woman who could hold her own in hand-to-hand combat with opponents of any sex. A woman with a job and a life three thousand miles away from Mystery Lake and the Falcons.
Anchoring her thoughts on these indisputable facts almost made her believe they mattered when it came to the club. When it came to Gabriel Walker, aka Philly. The man who, with a single look from his deep blue eyes, reached inside her and eviscerated all the confidence she’d earned in her thirty-five years. And the worst part was, he didn’t even have to try.
On an exhale, she acknowledged that the next ten minutes wouldn’t be fun. From the moment she realized she needed Gabriel’s help, she’d known that. And yet here she was.
With one last look in the mirror, she flipped the visor up. All she had to do was get in, get the information she wanted, and get out. Any other option meant giving up or caving in, and she constitutionally couldn’t do either.
Opening her door, the warmth of the late-summer/early-fall afternoon washed over her, and scents of evergreen forest mingled with the smell of gasoline and oil.
And the aroma of a barbecue.
Yes, the Falcons were definitely having a party. The clank of a horseshoe hitting a stake and a bluesy-yet-hip-hop beat filtered from the backyard area, the sounds punctuated by male laughter. She doubted Mantis, Stone, or Viper would be without their girlfriends, so Charley, Juliana, and Lina were probablythere as well. Maybe even Joey—Charley’s twin sister—and her partner Leo Gallardo.
Not giving herself more time to ruminate on how spectacularly sideways her decision to talk to Gabriel could go—in the middle of a club party, no less—Callie headed toward the clubhouse and pushed through the front door.
Like the parking lot, the large lodge-like room she stepped into held signs of activity—a couple of jackets hung from the backs of chairs, an abandoned game of chess, and an unfinished pool game—but no people. With no one in sight, the usually bustling space felt cavernous. And if she let her mind take a flight of fancy, maybe even a bit ominous.
“Agent Parks, what are you doing here?”
She turned to see a woman named Amber standing in the opening of a hallway Callie had never been down. She’d met the woman a handful of times, and the men frequently mentioned her phenomenal cooking. Callie had never figured out, though, if she lived at the clubhouse, was dating one of the members, or just helped in the kitchen.
“I’m here to talk to Gabriel. Philly,” she corrected, unsure if Amber only knew the men by the handles they’d brought with them from their time in the military.
Amber regarded her, then tipped her head toward a door. “They’re all outside.”
“Sounds like a party,” Callie said, shamelessly fishing for information on what she was about to walk into.
“They’ll be eating soon,” Amber replied. A not-so-subtle hint that her time to speak with Gabriel might be limited.
Callie nodded and walked to the door Amber indicated. With another deep breath, she pushed through.
The second the soles of her four-inch heels touched the grass every pair of eyes landed on her—all twenty-one of them. Twenty-two if she included Stone and Juliana’s puppy,Sherman, who stopped mid-gallop, stick and tongue hanging from his mouth, to watch her.
Dottie, the house manager—or house mom—hovered over a table of food. Charley and her sister stood beside Mantis, who held a long spatula behind the grill. Leo, Monk, Lovell, and Juan each grasped a couple of horseshoes on the far side of the lawn. Scipio looked to be holding what might be the other half of the stick in Sherman’s mouth. North, Dulcie, Marley, and Einstein sat at a table playing cards. Stone stood with his arm around Juliana’s waist talking to Superman, Wesson, and Hawkeye.
She assessed the scene in a flash before resting her gaze on Gabriel. Dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, he held a bottle of beer in one hand, his other arm draped around Lina’s shoulders. There was no question Lina and Viper, who stood on Lina’s other side, were a couple, but the familiarity of Gabriel’s stance gave her pause.
“Callie,” Mantis said by way of a greeting. “What brings you here?”
Keeping her gaze where it landed, she answered. “I need to speak with Gabriel.”
“We’re in the middle of a celebration. You should have called,” Mantis replied.
She pulled her attention away from Gabriel to look at the club president. “It was a spur-of-the-moment trip. I’ll only take a few minutes of his time.”
