Philly falcons rest mc b.., p.1
Philly (Falcon's Rest MC Book 3), page 1
PHILLY
FALCON’S REST MC
BOOK 3
TAMSEN SCHULTZ
DEVIL’S GATE PRESS, LLC
Copyright © 2025 by Tamsen Schultz
Published by Devil’s Gate Press, LLC
Cover Design by Golden Czermak
Edited by Erin Crum and Cameron Yeager
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
DEFENSELESS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
About the Author
Also by Tamsen Schultz
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 jewelry accenting 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 probably there 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.”
Mantis shot a quick glance at his brother—how the club members referred to one another—before returning his attention to her. “Another time, Callie. Stop by tomorrow. We’ll be wrapping up a meeting around ten. You can grab him then.”
“Is he unable to speak for himself?” she snapped, instantly regretting the loss of control.
Every member of the Falcon’s Rest club squared up and faced her head-on. Lina, a former CIA operative, slid her a disappointed look from under Gabriel’s arm.
Acid churned in her stomach at the reminder that this group was a family—a tight-knit, protective family. Something she once thought she’d had. Time, and experience, had stripped away the layers of civilized veneer, though, and she’d discovered it had been nothing more than a facade. And a conditional one at that.
Refusing to let her mind linger on the powerful and unique thing Gabriel and the other men had built for themselves, she gave a sharp nod. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” Forcing herself to look one more time, she turned to Gabriel. “I’ll expect to speak to you then,” she added before turning on her heel and walking back through the door. She didn’t stop until she climbed into her car.
As soon as the door closed, her bravado leached away, and her shoulders dropped. She let her head fall against the seat, the car’s heat seeping through her suit and warming he r skin. A beat later, she snorted. Get in, get the information, get out. Yeah, right.
Karma had knocked on her door two months ago when she’d first encountered Gabriel after nearly twenty years of living separate lives. Callie should have guessed then that the Fates wouldn’t do her a solid and go silently into that good night. She should have understood then that nothing about dealing with the Falcons—or Gabriel—would be easy.
She exhaled and pushed the ignition button.
The worst part was, whatever they cared to dish out, she deserved.
2
Philly lingered after the end of the club’s weekly meeting, his brothers gone to take care of business. Picking up the bag of stuffed animals, the big eyes and the exaggerated eyelashes of a green dragon peeking out at him, he smiled. Although, now that he thought about it, did dragons even have eyelashes? And if they didn’t, the ones on the stuffie would be fictional rather than exaggerated, right?
He’d have to google that shit later. For now, he’d put the donations in the storage closet and hope that someday the stuffies would mark the start of a better life for a kid who deserved more than what they’d been dealt.
“You okay?” Mantis asked, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed.
“Aren’t you headed out to the Fir Tree Lane property to inspect the water heater?” Philly countered.
“Funny how I can do two things in one day—check a water heater and check on you.”
Philly rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”
Mantis eyed him. “You have any idea what she wants?”
Two months ago, Callie Parks had burst back into his life, helping Stone and Juliana stop a murder. Three weeks ago, she stopped by to speak with him about an old case. She’d ended up setting aside her own agenda—and questions—to help them figure out who’d killed Lina’s father and why. They hadn’t talked since her FBI team closed that case two weeks ago.
Philly set his hand on the dragon and leaned against the table. “None.”
“You need anything? Want anyone to stick around?”
He considered the offer. Fifteen years ago, he would have told Mantis to fuck off, that he didn’t need a babysitter. But he wasn’t that scared, angry, volatile kid anymore. He had a family now, a healthy, sometimes-unruly-but-always-solid family.
He shook his head. “Thanks, but I got it. If I can help her, I will.”
The corners of Mantis’s mouth ticked up. “Then she can be on her merry way?”
Philly inclined his head and shrugged. He tried to smile, but while his lips moved, it probably came out more of a grimace.
“You know we’re here—all of us—if you need anything.”
Philly swallowed and nodded. His brothers knew everything about him—they knew about the shithole he’d grown up in, they knew how he coped under pressure, they knew his favorite brand of boxers and why he hated pineapple. They even knew his fear of roly-poly bugs. But they didn’t know about Callie. And they were an observant bunch of lovable bastards. The fact that he’d never mentioned the woman before was a big red flag for every single one of them.
“Thanks,” he said.
Mantis studied him, then nodded and pushed off the door. “She’s in the lodge room. Dottie set her up with coffee and a piece of coffee cake.”
He nodded again. “I’ll put these away,” he said, lifting the bag of stuffed animals.
“I’ll take it,” Mantis said, holding out his hand. “I’ve got to check the inventory anyway before heading to Fir Tree Lane. I’m going to stop by Rita C’s to check inventory there, too,” he said, referring to the bar the club owned. “Go get it over with.” He jerked his head toward the lodge room. “Then go for a run or do whatever you need.”
“I need to check the reservation system for the rentals. We’re coming up on the high season.” The club managed several properties they’d bought, fixed up, and now rented to vacationing weekenders. Summer and winter were the big revenue seasons. So far, the bookings for the ski season looked good, with a lot of repeat renters, but he needed to take a closer look and determine whether to adjust their marketing plan.
“Sitting in front of a computer isn’t going to be a productive use of your time this morning. If you’re going to be stubborn about it, though, take a run before you start.”
Philly opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. As much as he wished Callie didn’t have an impact on him, she did. And Mantis was right—a run would help clear his mind before having to focus on business.
“I’ll head out to the fire trail on the east side of the lake,” he conceded. The eleven-mile trail would be enough to calm his system down. “I’ll get the rentals sorted by the end of the day.”
Mantis nodded again and, shooting him one last loaded look, took the bag of toys and left the room.
With the trail beckoning him, he followed his brother out, but rather than turn left toward the members’ wing of the building, he turned right. As he strode down the hall toward the main room, the wood floors solid beneath his feet, he considered what Callie might ask. For the hundredth time.
And for the hundredth time, he came up with nothing. He had no shortage of creativity, but for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine any scenario where their lives intersected. Not for the past twenty years.
As he approached the room, Dottie came into view on her way to the kitchen. She didn’t stop, but she subtly nodded toward the west side of the room.
Pausing at the end of the hall to assess the situation, he spotted Callie sitting at the end of a long table, picking at her coffee cake. She seemed to be forking off the crumb topping, moving it around the plate, then picking off a small piece of cake from the corner. For every three pieces of cake she separated out, only one made it into her mouth.
“Callie,” he said, walking into the room. Fork in hand, she watched as he came toward her, taking the seat opposite. Yesterday, she’d worn a black suit with a white top and heels. Today’s attire wasn’t all that different, although the suit was a rich brown and the top more of a cream color than white.
“Do you want any coffee or anything?” she asked as he folded his hands and set them on the table.
He shook his head. He’d already had four cups—two more than usual. “What’s this old case you wanted to ask me about?”
She set her fork down and straightened. He tried not to notice how the young girl he’d been in love with had turned into a stunning woman. An objectively difficult thing to do as her dark, expressive eyes studied the lines of his face. As if tracing a memory.
“Laura Nolan,” she said.
He paused, then frowned, reminding himself he meant nothing more to her than a potential source of information. Not that he wanted to mean more.
“Who’s Laura Nolan?” he asked.
Her gaze held his before dropping to her phone sitting on the table beside the coffee cake. He followed her fingers as she typed in a code, oddly mesmerized by her fingernails. Trimmed to the exact same length, she hadn’t covered them with any sort of polish, yet they looked smooth and flawless.
She slid the phone across the table, and he jerked his gaze away from her hands to the device. Pulling it closer, he studied the screen and the grainy image taken from CCTV footage. A picture of him and a woman exiting a building. He held the door open with one hand while the other lingered near the woman’s lower back. They both carried bags weighed down by something hidden within the white opaque plastic, and she had a hand pressed to her lower belly.
He squinted at the time stamp, then frowned again. “This was taken nearly two-and-a-half years ago, but I remember that day.”
Callie leaned two inches forward.
“A couple of buddies had leave. I flew down to San Diego, and we were heading to Baja for a few days,” he answered, his gaze still on the image. “She and I were walking into the store at the same time,” he said, tapping the picture. “I made some comment about what a beautiful day it was. She agreed but said something about being sick. I thought maybe she had a cold, but as soon as we walked into the mini-mart, she bolted for the bathroom. Both the clerk and I could hear her vomiting. She sounded miserable.” He paused, then pushed the phone closer to Callie. “She was right in that it was too nice a day to be sick, so I bought her some ginger ale and crackers.” He nodded toward the phone. “I guess that was taken when we left.”
