For some reason, this fact still rankled at her.
But Bear nodded. “Then what say we?” he asked, addressing the bikers around her.
Kara was still standing in the middle of the circle, listening as these men spoke around her. She felt slightly self-conscious, put on the spot, but no one had told her to take a seat, so she remained there, waiting and listening.
“I think the lass has got a point, I say,” Gimli called out, taking the lead on the conversation. “I’ve never liked how close we’ve been pushed and pulled with the Hellraisers. This is just another example in a long tradition of them breaking their word, and we shouldn’t stand for it any longer!”
“So what are you suggesting, dwarf?” called out another man, one that Kara didn’t know. “We should go to war?”
That question provoked shaking heads around the circle. “Not worth it,” Kara heard muttered. “They might be assholes, but not worth dying over.”
Behind her, Cross cleared his throat. “There may be another option,” he offered.
It took a minute for the other men to fall silent, but eventually Cross had the floor. “What, then?” asked one of the men of Cross. “Hired guns?”
“Of a sort,” he replied. Kara turned just enough to look over her shoulder at the man, and he was sitting up straight. He looked curiously regal and in control, as if he was the real leader of these men. “For a matter like this, we don’t need strength or brute force. Those will only land us in a bloody war, a long and drawn-out fight that ends with massive losses on both sides. No one is suggesting a war.”
“So what, then?”
Cross lifted up his hand, tapping one finger against his temple. “Cunning,” he replied, as if this was a clear answer.
From the looks of the other men around the circle, it wasn’t getting through. Even Gimli gave a snort through his hairy face. “Boy, we know you’re smart, but you’ll have to spell it out for the rest of us,” he huffed.
Indeed, Kara thought that Cross was being especially obtuse. But the man must have realized this - and now, the FBI agent realized, the man had the rest of his gang focused on his every word, waiting for him to explain. He knew what he was doing.
“The Hellraisers are ramping up their criminal activities,” Cross explained. “That’s the source of their revenue, and what’s giving them the power to throw their weight around like this. They’ve got a whole web of connections, all built around the gun running and smuggling.”
The men were nodding, but they didn’t yet see where this was going. But they were listening, eating out of Cross’s palm.
“But if that illegal enterprise collapses, then so will the Hellraisers’ entire web of operations,” Cross continued. “That’s the linchpin in their setup - and it’s their weak point.”
“I don’t follow,” Gimli insisted. “They’ll know that, though, and they’ll make sure to be guarding that operation at every single step of the shipments. We can’t break through that enough to disrupt it.”
“We don’t need to,” Cross insisted. “All we have to do is find out enough about it so that we can tip off the authorities - and then sit back and let the police and FBI do our dirty work for us.”
The man leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and looking satisfied with himself, as the other bikers digested this. Clearly, none of them had ever thought of using the resources of the police in this way - but Kara could already see nodding heads, and even a couple of grins from men who liked the idea of the Feds going into the line of fire instead of themselves.
But Bear still looked angry, and he was growing angrier by the minute as he saw control slipping away from his grasp. “Using the pigs?” he rasped out, fury evident in his words. “You’re playing with fire, Cross. What if we get caught up in the same net?”
“We’ll make sure to only aim them where we want, when we’re ready,” Cross insisted. He carefully looked at Kara. “Kara here will make sure that they only hit the Hellraisers when we’re well out of the way.”
Every eye in the room shot back to the woman in the middle of the circle. “Her?” Bear asked, his voice icy. “She’s connected to the pigs?”
“I used to date one,” Kara said quickly, before she was stabbed. At that recent announcement by Cross, the temperature in the room had felt as though it dropped by twenty degrees. “I can use him to tip them off.”
Bear didn’t look convinced - but the other bikers were nodding. “A vote, then,” Cross called out, capitalizing on the momentum.
Kara watched as the bikers voted. The plan passed, albeit by a slimmer margin than she would have liked.
“And another motion - to make Kara a friend of the club, so that she can be a part of this fully,” Cross quickly added onto the heels of this most recent vote. “Otherwise, she might not be able to share the right information, or hold the right things back.”
Again, the motion passed, this time by a wider margin. Kara caught a couple of the men sneaking glances at her legs, still enclosed in her tight riding outfit, and wondered if that might have influenced their choices.
Regardless of the reason, however, both motions had been passed by the gang. It was official, and they were moving forward with the plan.
FBI Special Agent Kara Sybil was now, for better or worse, an honorary member of the Iron Brotherhood motorcycle club.
CHAPTER 7
Soon after the votes had been counted, Kara was once again kicked out of the bikers’ meeting.
“Sorry, lass,” Gimli apologized to her as he pushed her out of the room. “But even friends of the club aren’t allowed to see all the rites and rituals. You could go haul your things up to your room, though.”
Bring in her things? “What are you-” Kara began, but Gimli had already pulled the door closed once again. Move in?
Instead of trying to figure out the meaning behind those words - maybe they had been nothing - Kara spent the rest of the meeting’s time sitting there on her phone, checking in with her office. Charlie had sent her several messages, most of them noticeably empty of any real new leads. Just as he had predicted to her, Shaw and his FBI team had struck out with following up on the missing truck. Once again, there were no real leads on the case.
“Rogers is really getting upset, and he’s spreading the shit around with a big shovel,” Charlie’s last email read. “So you better get your hands on something good.”
Kara glanced up at the door to the meeting room, but it was still solidly shut. She hit the button to bring up a reply to Charlie.
“Hellraisers,” she typed in. “And Savage, a nickname. Don’t let anything get out, but try and find out everything you can on the gang and the man.”
She hit send, tucking the phone back away as the email shot off into cyberspace.
Only a minute or two later, the sound of footsteps came from the other side of the dining room door - and then it opened, and the bikers came spilling out. They were chatting with each other, all of the somber silence of their meeting gone without a trace. One of them must have told a joke, as several other men broke out into raucous laughter.
“There she is!” Gimli called out as he spotted Kara sitting outside the room. “Cross’s first girl in as long as we can remember! And now a friend of the club, as well!”
Cross was a half step behind Gimli, and he nodded at Kara. “Men, I’m sure that Kara is feeling tired-” he began, but Gimli cut him off.
“Nonsense! This should be a celebration, and she’s coming with you!” he called out, to a ragged cheer from the other bikers. “Grab her, put her on the back of your bike, and let’s go somewhere more suited to a party!”
Both Kara and Cross opened their mouths to protest, but the dwarf and the other Iron Brotherhood members weren’t letting them even get a word out. The big men all swept up around Kara, a wave of moving bodies in leather outfits, and next thing she knew, she was outside, being urged onto Cross’s motorcycle.
There didn’t seem to be any way around
it, but Kara fixed Cross with a severe look as she swung one leg over his hog behind him. “Don’t get any ideas,” she called out to him before he hit the ignition button to bring the chopper to life.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, and then started up the bike before Kara could respond.
At least their destination wasn’t far away, Kara thought to herself. She spent most of the ride trying not to think about how tightly she had her arms around Cross to hold on as he piloted the bike - or how he felt surprisingly warm as she pressed her chest into his back.
Also, very specifically, Kara did not let herself think about how, despite her successful career, her personal life had been idling in neutral - or worse - for the last few years.
It came with the job, she told herself. It was the downside to going undercover, to chasing criminals around the United States, to leading an exciting life that most people would kill for. She was perfectly desirable, and she still had plenty of time to settle down once she eased off on the field work.
When that would be, however, Kara didn’t know.
And worse, there was a little voice in the back of her head that sometimes brought this up - a voice that she could usually mostly, if not entirely, quiet. It sometimes came back, however, at the most inopportune times, pointing out an option for a romantic encounter, how some guy was clearly interested in her.
Kara made it her mission to steadfastly ignore that voice, always doing the opposite of whatever advice it offered.
The “party place” of the Iron Brotherhood turned out to be a surprisingly large bar a few miles down the road. The place was a throwback to an earlier generation, decked out in dark wood, from the floors, to the rickety tables and chairs, to the massive bar that swept almost the entire length of the interior.
Inside, the bartender obviously recognized the Brotherhood members, and there were already beers waiting on the counter by the time they reached it. The men just grabbed their drinks off the counter without pausing - payment appeared to be on the honor system.
Kara and Cross were the focus of the men, and Kara almost immediately found herself facing down a constantly replenishing line of drinks. Every time she downed one, the men all cheered, and another was pushed in front of her.
The FBI agent did her best to pace herself, but with the flow of liquor constantly sliding in front of her, that was next to impossible - and by the time she started trying to tally up how many she had tossed back, the number had already climbed surprisingly high.
So instead, Kara turned to Cross, still sitting next to her. “You better be keeping an eye on me,” she demanded. Oh god. Was there already a slight slurring to her speech?
Cross patted her on the back, and Kara was surprised to see a brief grin appear on his face. “Don’t worry,” he told her, leaning over to speak right into her ear. “Besides, it will do you some good to loosen up for once in your life!”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Kara fired back. Yes, her words were definitely a little blended together - and, she noticed, Cross still had his hand on her back! She really ought to remove it from there.
But she didn’t.
The little voice in Kara’s mind was back, and it was whispering to her how nice it felt to have that hand there, to have this big man beside her, a comforting shoulder to lean against. Kara furiously waved a mental hand at the voice, but it didn’t go away like usual.
Instead, the voice seemed to draw strength from the drinks now warming Kara’s stomach, sending a flush through her body. “Go on,” it whispered to her. “Just let your guard down a little, take a break from the locked-down FBI persona. It will feel so good.”
“Are you all right?”
It took Kara a second to realize that the voice wasn’t in her head, but instead came from Cross, peering down at her. Wow, his face was close. “I’m fine,” she replied, trying to not look at his lips - and failing.
Cross didn’t reply, but he smiled at her, a small, personal, indulgent little smile. “I don’t believe you,” that smile said, “but I won’t call you out on your bullshit.”
“And what about you?” Kara challenged, waving one hand at Cross as if to hit him in the arm, although she missed by a couple inches. Wow, these drinks were going right through her! And there was still another one in front of her. Impulsively, she took it.
“I don’t even know you!” she continued, trying another swing at the man’s arm. This one connected, and Kara grinned in triumph. “I don’t even know your name!”
“Christopher.”
“Whazzat?” Oh god, she was definitely drunk.
“Christopher,” Cross repeated. “Christopher Rhodes. That’s where my nickname comes from. Like the Lord himself, on the cross.”
Kara shook her head. “That’s a pretty name. That doesn’t seem like a usual biker nickname.”
“I’m not a usual biker,” Cross replied, lifting an eyebrow.
Kara stared into his face. He really was super handsome, the little voice in her mind whispered to her. He might be a criminal - but once his clothes are off, that really doesn’t matter, does it? All that matters is what he does with you - and I bet this guy can do some deliciously naughty things.
“Gimli said something,” Kara said slowly, working to carefully enunciate each word. “Something about me moving my stuff in. What does that mean?”
“At the house?” Cross asked.
When Kara nodded, the man chuckled. “Your cover is that you’re my girlfriend,” he explained. “So you’re obviously living with me there.”
Kara shook her head back and forth vehemently, although this made the room spin in an alarming manner. “Nuh uh! That’s a recipe for disaster?”
“Why?”
Because it risks my cover. Because I could let something slip. Because we might not be able to maintain that level of subterfuge. Because it raises more questions than it answers. Hell, because I don’t have much more than the change or two of clothes that I always bring with me when I travel!
Any of these answers would have worked. But they weren’t what came out of Kara’s mouth.
“Because you’re too hot!” Where the hell had that come from? Take it back! “What if we sleep together?”
Cross just kept on looking at her. “Would that be bad?”
No, no it would not, the little voice in Kara’s mind answered. In fact, that voice wasn’t so little any longer - it sounded quite strong now. No, there would be absolutely nothing wrong with for once lowering her emotional barriers and letting someone else in, holding at bay the loneliness that she worked so hard to keep herself from feeling.
Kara opened her mouth to shut the man down. Best to end this, totally cut it off before things went any further in this unexpected and unanticipated direction, she decided. Even floating in a gentle, calming bath of alcohol, her brain could surely manage to shut this down.
That was, after all, what had happened the last few times, before she’d given up on relationships and cut them out of her life.
But before she could answer, Cross leaned in. They already had their heads close together to speak in the din of the bar, but now he was so close that she could stare right into his eyes. His mouth had to be less than an inch from hers.
Inside her head, Kara expected that little voice to be screaming at her. But instead, curiously, it was totally silent.
In fact, she wasn’t thinking any words at all. Her mind was silent, waiting.
The world seemed to hold its breath. The FBI agent was on the brink of breaking a cardinal rule in going undercover, about to commit a devastating professional sin.
And she didn’t even care.
Cross’s lips met hers, softly, gently pressing up against them, soft but with the hint of force just below the surface. His mouth was ever so slightly open, just enough so that his lips had the slightest little hint of pucker. He tasted lightly of beer, of refreshing coolness.
Kara kissed him back so forcefully that both of t
hem went tumbling off of their rickety wooden chairs and ended up down on the floor, to a cheer from the other bikers in the bar.
She didn’t even notice the commotion, or the shift in gravity.
CHAPTER 8
The next thing Kara knew, she was in a bedroom, tugging Cross’s shirt up over his head as he nuzzled at her neck. She could feel his breath hot on the lobe of her ear, and it made her own breathing come in labored panting.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of struggle, the man helped her out, pulling his shirt off of his chest. The motion revealed rippling muscles beneath, perfectly sculpted on a broad chest, and Kara felt another hot wave of desire come coursing through her body.
Down in her stomach, Kara could feel the residual heat from those drinks. She had definitely lost count. Hell, even sorority girls managed to draw lines on their arms so that they could figure out the damage later. All Kara could remember of the bar was the blur of shots sliding in front of her, instantly replacing anything she tossed back.
And Cross had kept on talking to her, sitting so close that she couldn’t think of anything else. Not her mission, not her vaunted professionalism, nothing but the faint scent of motor oil and grease, of comfortable, well-worn leather, of road dust and honest sweat that came from his body, coupled with the faintest little hint of clean aftershave.
No, not Cross, Kara thought to herself, the words rising up out of the boiling stew of wordless desire that had overwhelmed her mind like a floater in a pot of water.
Christopher.
Christopher Rhodes, that was his name. Somehow, she’d managed to cling to that one thought as the rest of the bar dissolved.
Christopher was the man kissing her neck, his lips soft and insistent against her as he knelt beneath her on the bed. Kara had her legs spread wide, straddling his lap. When she bore down against him, she could feel him pushing back, hard and insistent.
Christopher was the one with a bulge pushing up against her, betraying exactly what he wanted to do to her - and what she wanted from him - as his hands crawled their way up across the skin of her back, beneath her shirt.
Guns & Dusty Roads: The Iron Brotherhood Series Page 5
