Cover Reveal: The Powerbroker

She’s undercover in a dangerous motorcycle club, and her unwanted protector is the city’s most lethal man.

Police Detective Brynn Sullivan is dedicated to her job and living up to the memory of her cop father. She’s out to prove herself on her biggest case yet—stopping a dangerous drug from flooding the streets of San Francisco. She needs to go undercover with the city’s wildest, most dangerous motorcycle club, and that means using any contact she can to get in there.

Even the dark, powerful ex-military man who rules the city’s streets from the shadows—Vander Norcross.

After years fighting for his country as commander of a covert Ghost Ops team, Vander Norcross has built Norcross Security into a thriving business to keep his family and friends safe. He’s a powerbroker in San Francisco, with his finger on the pulse of what’s happening—both legal and not so legal. When his friend asks a favor putting a detective—a female one—undercover with the Iron Wanderers MC, Vander is not on board.

It goes against every protective instinct he has, but Brynn proves to be tenacious, annoying, smart, and far too tempting.

Brynn and Vander strike enough sparks to start an inferno, but when dangerous players up the stakes, they find themselves with a bounty on their heads. On the run, with only each other to depend on, Brynn discovers she has an even bigger battle on her hands—capturing the heart of a man who thinks he’s too dangerous to ever fall in love.

A tell-tale tingle ran across the back of his neck, and he looked up to see Hunt coming his way.

The detective looked tired, his shirt rumpled and tie askew.

“Long day keeping the streets of San Francisco safe?” Vander asked.

Hunt grunted. “I know you help out with that. Usually by skirting the law.”

“Who, me?” Vander said, deadpan.

Hunt snorted again and sipped his drink.

“Coffee?” Vander raised a brow.

“Got to head back to the station after. Vander, you know Trucker Patterson, right?”

Vander stiffened. Not Trucker, again. “Yeah. Asshole of epic proportions.”

“But you have dealings with him and the Iron Wanderers.”

Vander stayed silent, waiting to see where Hunt was heading with this line of conversation.

The detective turned to him. “We both know you keep your fingers on the pulse of all the players in the city.”

“It pays to know what everyone’s up to.” It was how Vander kept control of his little slice of the world. He had a strong network of informants, and Ace could access just about anything, and that let Vander do his bit to protect his city.

“You’re a powerbroker in San Francisco. You can connect people, broker deals, and scare the shit out of people when required,” Hunt said.

“Where are you going with this?”

Some party guests jostled them. A woman laughed and Vander saw they were…sucking on candy that was shaped like pacifiers.

“Let’s talk on Ace’s roof deck,” Hunt suggested.

They hit the stairs. When Vander stepped onto the deck, a warm breeze tugged at his hair. Ace had a killer view of the city sprawl, and the water in the distance.

“The Wanderers are running drugs,” Hunt said.

A muscle ticked in Vander’s jaw. “I know, but Trucker keeps it to his club and close contacts. He knows if he sells that shit on the streets, or to kids, he’ll have problems.”

Hunt shook his head. “It’s my job to make sure he doesn’t sell that shit at all.”

“And we both know that life isn’t always black and white, Hunt. Your laws hinder you as much as they help.”

“You keep playing God, Vander, you’ll be tempted to step over the line.”

“I have good balance,” Vander said.

Hunt blew out a breath. “Trucker’s also running weapons. Building up a little arsenal.”

Vander stiffened. “Really?”

“He’s keeping it very quiet. We arrested a low-level member who let it slip.”

Fuck. Then Vander took another sip of beer. “He wants a war.”

“He’s got problems with the Burning Devils MC. But I’m also getting whispers that he’s got out-of-town interest. Looking to muscle in.”

Vander’s mouth flattened. They didn’t need out-of-towners trying to strong-arm their way in.

“Word is, this new player wants to expand the drug trade.”

Hell, no. “I’ll handle it.”

“Let the law try, first.”

“You need proof that will hold up in court. I don’t. Your way will take too long.”

“Not if I have someone undercover in the club.”

Vander cocked his head. “That’s a dangerous game. If Trucker sniffs them out, he’ll send them back in pieces.”

“You owe me quite a few favors.”

Fuck. Vander knew where this was going. “Hunt—”

“Lots. I’ve cleaned up after you and your guys numerous times.”

“And I’ve helped you in return.”

“I know, but you still cause me headaches.”

Vander blew out a breath.

“Trucker trusts you,” Hunt said.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Okay, he’s scared of you. I need you to vouch for my undercover officer and help them get into the Wanderers.”

Shit. “They get found out, they’re dead.”

“They won’t.” Hunt paused. “Remember, you owe me.”

Vander scraped a hand through his hair. “Fine. Your guy better be good.”

“She is.”

Vander stiffened. A woman? “No.”

“Yes. Come to the station tomorrow, and we’ll talk.” Hunt headed for the stairs. “Bye, Vander.”

Vander felt like throwing his beer bottle. He took another sip, instead. Some female cop wanted to prance into the most dangerous motorcycle club in the city, it wasn’t his problem.

The beer tasted like oil.

Fuck. He headed back inside.