After the Rain by Chuck Logan Page A

You’re history.”
    A shadow passed behind Ace’s eyes. “What about you? You and your biker friends up north? You guys and that meth shit are all over the front page.”
    “Very funny.” It was a sore subject.
    “Answer the question.”
    Gordy shrugged. “I ain’t into nothing that would involve you,” he said slowly. “Not specifically.”
    “Not specifically, huh? That sounds like splitting hairs, like lawyer shit.” Ace measured out each word. “If she’s a cop, she’s your cop, not mine.”
    “I’m telling you, this little thing I got on the side is nothing that involves you.”
    “Right, half your drivers still think they’re running Dad’s cargo. And Dad just handled booze, not that bulk ephedrine you buy wholesale up in Winnipeg, that you can’t get down here cross thecounter…” Ace cut Gordy with his first real sharp look of the day.
    Gordy folded his arms over his chest, took a step backwards.
    Ace continued. “I ain’t dumb. Same couriers. Same transport—different contraband.”
    Nina was about two hundred yards down the road now, going past the Alco Discount, coming up on the Dairy Queen. Distracted by Gordy, Ace had lost the fine detail. A pickup went by, slowed to take a look. It occurred to him that some other enterprising shit-kicker was going to give her a lift, buy her a drink…
    “Hundred dollars says she ain’t a cop. But she sure is something more than she’s letting on, and I just gotta find out what that is. So I’m gonna go along with her,” Ace said abruptly, making his decision as he reached in his jeans for his truck keys.
    “You never bet,” Gordy said.
    “Hundred bucks.”
    “You’ll lose.”
    “Maybe. Probably. So how about another hundred on the side?” Ace grinned slow, with just a drop of the old nasty in it. “Like, what intrigues me is—how far will an undercover go? She goes all the way, we’re even.”
    “Ace, you ain’t thinking very clearly.”
    Ace shrugged and headed for his Tahoe. “What the hell. Not like there’s a whole lot else going on.”

Chapter Six
    Ace walked around the back and braced himself as he came up on his new Chevy Tahoe. A crease ran the length of the right fender and petered out halfway across the door. He had no idea where or when or on what he’d left the paint last night.
    Four minutes later he eased up beside her, then stopped the Tahoe a few feet ahead on the shoulder and zipped down the window. When she came up even with him and stopped, he spoke up.
    “So, you still want to get a drink?”
    Nina pursed her lips and regarded him warily. “Let’s you and me get something straight. I appreciate you helping out back there. But don’t get your hopes up. After what I been through in the last twenty-four hours, the next guy I fuck is gonna be wearing so much latex he can be dive certified…”
    “Whoa. Hey, I’m here to listen,” Ace said, marveling. Must be some gearbox she had in there, the way she could speed shift between full-bore hot and cold.
    Five minutes later they were settled in a booth in a dark freezing lounge back of the bowling alley, off Langdon’s main drag. They studied each other over a pair of double gin and tonics. Her choice.
    “Good summer drink,” Ace said diplomatically.
    “I kinda want to ease into it,” she said.
    They clinked glasses. As Nina took a sip, she noticed that the waitress who had brought their order was standing at the cash register, very involved in girl talk with two women in shorts and halters who were real suntanned and would never see thirty-nine again. All three craned their necks to get a look at Nina with a certain proprietary interest.
    “Friends of yours?” Nina jerked her head at the trio.
    Ace frowned. “I was hoping to hear the story of your life, not mine.”
    Nina shrugged. “I went to high school in Ann Arbor. Put off going to college to join the Army.”
    “That where you got the tattoo?” Ace pointed to her shoulder.
    “No, I did that on a