by Taylor Lee
Given the chaos caused by the Rally, it was easy for three hot girls to get hired at the Broken Spoke, a bar that prized cup size above all other attributes. Rafe’s charge to his team was to infiltrate the local milieu and listen hard for clues. They were to report back and then follow his orders for the next steps. Those steps did not include stabbing to death a three-hundred-pound local and creating a spectacle that shocked even the bikers’ hardened sensibilities.
~~~
It took every ounce of strength Nicki had to shove Zeke’s body off of her. She crawled across the floor and huddled against the wall. Her bare breasts were covered with blood. His blood. Bile surged in her throat. Grabbing the corner of the dirty bed sheet she crammed it in her mouth trying not to vomit. Hearing the footsteps pounding up the stairs she made an effort to wipe off the blood and held the sheet against her chest. She forced herself to concentrate. No matter what happened, she couldn’t blow her cover.
Cesar and two of his men crashed through the doorway and stopped, staring in astonishment. They looked first at Zeke lying in a small lake of blood nearly as wide as he was. Then, as if seeing Nicki for the first time, the three of them turned to her. Cesar spoke first. His voice, stuttering with his usual rage, was tempered with surprise.
“What the goddamned fuck did you do now, Missy? Christ, don’t tell me you up and killed one of my best customers?”
In his haste, one of the men behind him ploughed into Cesar. He stared first at Zeke, then at Nicki, and let out a long whistle. “Fuck, Cesar, you telling me that itty bit of a girl did that? Hell, man. Zeke’s gotta weigh three-fifty if he weighs an ounce!”
Nicki clutched the bed post for support and pulled herself up, willing her legs to stop shaking. With as much dignity as she could muster, she wrapped herself in the sheet and walked unsteadily toward the door. Glaring at Cesar, she jerked her chin dismissively at the body. “If that animal is one of your best customers, Cesar, I suggest you stop serving beer and serve pig swill instead. It’s cheaper.”
She hovered at the top of the staircase. One hand clinging to the railing, Nicki dared herself not to fall. In the sea of startled faces below, she saw Caleb, pale and strained, pushing his way though the crowd. Nicki gave him an imperceptible frown, warning him away. It was critical they keep their cover. Caleb nodded and backed off.
“Oh, my God, Nic… Annie!’ Jenna rushed up the stairs, remembering just in time to call her by her undercover name. “Oh, god, honey, look at your face. You’re all bruised up. And…and, baby, you are covered with blood.”
Serena hung onto Nicki’s other arm, openly sobbing, when a powerful voice broke through the excited murmurs of the crowd.
“Excuse me! Please, let me through.”
The crowd parted as a tall distinguished man moved toward the stairs. Nicki was surprised to see Dixon Price, a man who had sought her out three nights in a row. He stepped forward and held out his hand. Nicki hesitated, then remembering who she was supposed to be, pretended to be flattered by his attention.
Downstairs the doors banged open. The crowd once more stepped aside as a burly man with a sheriff’s badge and a crowd of uniformed deputies hard at his heels, shoved his way to the stairs. Clearly, the sheriff had heard the news.
The sheriff glanced over at her, with an expression Nicki couldn’t decipher. His eyes were shadowed with concern but quickly hardened to blank professionalism. He jerked his head at the deputies. “Please accompany Miss James to the jail, while I see to Zeke.”
Dixon Price stepped forward.
“Now, Sheriff Jackson, is that necessary? I was about to escort Miss James back to her motel. Surely any questions you have can be asked in the morning, as well as tonight. It doesn’t take much to see what happened here. Clearly our over eager friend Zeke was more—shall we say—attentive than Miss James preferred.”
“She a friend of yours, Dixon?” the sheriff asked, raising a questioning brow, his voice thick with disdain.
Dixon stroked his neatly trimmed goatee and smiled, although Nicki noted that his smile was as hard, impenetrable as the sheriff’s.
“I’m just making her acquaintance, Charlie.” Dixon replied. “It appears to me that all three of these young ladies could use some neighborly attention—Texas style.”
The sheriff drawled, “But of course. Neighborly attention -Texas style - is just what these young women need.” He added with a sarcastic scowl, “I am confident, Dixon, you are the person to provide it.”
Nicki took note of the cold expressions on both men’s faces, tucking it away for further investigation. For now, all she wanted was to leave this fucking bar, never see another motorcycle in her life, sink into a hot bath… and never get out. If she could do all of those things, she just might want to live to see another day.
Chapter 3
“Good evening, Nicki. Since you have chosen not to return my calls, I will convey my message in this manner. I suggest you save it on your cell phone and listen to it frequently. If you ever disobey my orders again, you are finished. You will never work for ISA again. Do you understand? And Nicki, I suggest you call your father. He is sick with worry. One more thing. I have answers to your questions about Mr. Dixon Price. Congratulations. Even though your judgment is horrendous, your instincts, as always, are sound.”
Nicki stared at the cell phone in her hand listening to the dial tone. Shivery sensations coursed through her core at the sound of Rafe’s cultured voice. Though it was stern, cool, she heard the undercurrent of concern. The image of the shockingly handsome Rafe flared in her stress addled brain. He was impossible to ignore. Chiseled features, a shock of black hair, emerald green eyes, and arched brows added to his darkly alluring aura. Oh, and add in a body toned by twenty years of every form of martial arts, and a military career the details of which were as mysterious as he was. Nicki mused. She couldn’t decide which of his features attracted her more. The finest ass she’d seen on a man or those stormy green eyes that looked as though they could see through whatever she was wearing at the time. She shook her head dismissing the memory. Better to concentrate on his contemptuous arrogance. And the way he made it clear that the only reason she was on the team was because her father was his benefactor.
She scoffed. How like Rafe. Not only did he tattle to her father, but blackmailed her into calling him. She chose the lesser of the evils first. She’d call her father and reassure him, then call Rafe, the man she’d desperately wanted to impress. She winced. So much for that. She didn’t have to talk to him to know that she’d precisely lived up to his expectations. An undependable lone ranger; and a fuckup at that.
~~~
Nicki paced the room, certain she would wear a path in the cheap carpet before the night was over. Caleb and Grayson left hours before. Nicki insisted that both Jenna and Serena go back to the Broken Spoke. Rafe was convinced that the “incident” would have the revelers fired up, sharing information the team needed to hear. Nicki’s instructions were to stay put. To wait until she heard from Caleb or Rafe. Caleb’s last words were that she get some rest. Try to sleep. Nicki chafed, shrugging off his concern. Clearly she was being punished. This was Rafe’s way of keeping her in line, sending her to bed like a disobedient child. It wasn’t fair. All of them, even Rafe, were amazed at her findings, her instincts, as Rafe called them in his dismissive tone.
Just when she had given up, ready to slink into bed, her cell phone beeped. It was a text from Caleb. Short, descriptive, and thrilling. Following the leads she’d uncovered, they’d found the girl. She was in a warehouse tucked on the edge of town, scant blocks from what passed as the main drag. Maybe guards, maybe not—but either way, Caleb instructed her to come immediately and help them bring the young girl back to the motel.
Dancing with excitement, Nicki quickly dressed. Black jeans, a long-sleeved black t-shirt and required vest to hide her back holster, made her look as close to a small man as she could. Her boots hid her knife and a secret placket on her belt held
her most fearsome weapon, a butterfly blade her father gave her on her tenth birthday. Tucking her untamable curls under her black cowboy hat, Nicki slipped from the room, moving down the silent hallway to the back stairs. As she neared the warehouse, close to the deserted train station, her heart pounded with excitement. She could hardly wait to see Caleb’s face. He would be proud of her. He’d acknowledge her, she knew he would. They’d done it. They accomplished their mission because of her uncanny ability to ferret out clues based in large part on her instincts. It would help to take away the sting from her earlier snafu. It had to.
The warehouse was unnaturally quiet. Thankful for the cloudy sky that hid the moon, Nicki stuck close to the perimeter of the building looking for the entrance and any signs of Caleb and the team. When she saw the iron door that had to be the side entrance described in Caleb’s message, she hesitated. The back of her neck itched. From long experience it was a sign she ignored at her peril. Glancing from side to side, seeing and hearing nothing, she drew her Glock. She’d added an extended magazine to give her eleven bullets instead of the usual nine. Cautiously opening the door, a whispery rush of air was the only sound that greeted her. A sliver of pale yellow from under a door at the end of a long hallway provided a dim light. She moved silently, willing her pounding heart to settle. Taking deep prana breaths, she focused on the task. Find the girl. Find Caleb. And get the hell out of this freaky place.
Approaching the doorway, she hesitated. The silence was unnerving. Taking a deep breath, she held her gun tightly, its heft a welcome weight. All of her misgivings fled when she opened the door and stepped inside. Lying on a large bed in the center of the bare room was a young, blond-haired girl. It was Cynthia. She was pale, silent, apparently sleeping. Nicki’s heart leapt at the incongruity of the peaceful sight. Swallowing hard, she begged, please God, let her be sleeping. Her fear overrode her violently itching neck. She crept to the bed. She had to know. Were they too late? Her relief at the sound of the girl’s quiet exhaling stole her breath. In the mix of emotions flooding her, a niggling thought shouted the obvious question. Where the hell was Caleb?
The answer came when she heard the door close. The gun barrel on her neck was cold, hard against her excited flesh, more shocking than the distinguished voice.
“Good evening, Annie. Thank you for coming.”
~~~
“Your gun, my dear.”
Nicki turned slowly and handed her gun to Dixon.
Ignoring the sneer on his face, she struggled to square the deceptively pleasant gentleman in front of her with the crimes she knew he’d committed.
He stuck her gun in the back of his pressed trousers and held out his hand, nodding at her boot. She handed over the stiletto.
He tossed the knife across the floor and smiled at her. That same hard dead smile she’d observed earlier.
“Ah, yes. As Zeke discovered, your knife is not to be taken lightly. Even I was surprised that a slip of a girl—what do you weigh? A hundred and ten pounds? Maybe a hundred and fifteen soaking wet? That you could take down a man three times your size. Impressive.”
She saw he didn’t miss her surreptitious glance at the door.
“Don’t be expecting Caleb, my dear. We sent him a similar text to the one we sent you. No telling where Caleb and his team are now. Given the frantic instructions you sent him begging him to meet you on the west side of the Army post.”
When she just glared at him, Dixon glanced over at the small figure on the bed.
“Apparently, you didn’t buy the story that the rabid Mexican drug lords kidnapped her?”
Nicki was surprised that her voice was calm, cool, given the tension vibrating through her body.
“No, Dixon. I didn’t. But it took me a while to believe the truth. It seems so…so mundane. I would have expected it to be more interesting. A land use bill, Dixon? One on which Senator Walton holds the swing vote?”
“Ah, yes, but a vote that will mean millions of dollars…”
“To your family,” Nicki continued.
Dixon gave her an appreciative smile that almost seemed genuine.
“Yes, to my family. I need to ask. I’m curious. What gave me away?”
Nicki tossed her head.
“You were too concerned about me, Dixon. At first I assumed you just wanted in my pants. But you asked too many questions, odd questions. Then tonight you wanted to know everything that happened with Zeke. What he said before I killed him. And, the obvious antipathy between you and the sheriff.”
Nicki stopped then added with a dismissive smile of her own. “And because my father taught me from the time I was very young, that it is always, without fail, about the money.”
Dixon nodded with a pleasant grin.
“It appears your father is a wise man. Perhaps as wise as your employer.”
Nicki didn’t try to hide her surprise.
“You know who I am?’
“That you are Nicki Powers? More important, that you work with that quite intrusive agency, ISA? Not at first. I never bought your poor little slut routine, of course. But one of your colleagues confessed. Oh, not Caleb. He’s a professional, like his boss. But some of the locals you picked up were more…forthcoming.”
At her silence, he gloated.
“Yes, Nicki. There are not many in my line of work who don’t know Rafe Boudin. I’ll admit I didn’t know Rafe had added women to his stable. Now that I’ve seen you in action, I can see that his interest in you is likely more than the obvious carnal ones.”
Nicki focused, shoving down her revulsion at the supercilious comment. Her voice was crisp, curt.
“Let the girl go, Dixon. She’s no good to you now.”
“Ah, Nicki. I’m sorry, but I cannot do that. You see, you are going to kill her.”
At her startled gasp, he grinned, his eyes gleaming.
“Oh, not really. But your gun will. We will have several eyewitnesses, including me, who will see you do it.”
He sniffed, feigning concern about what lay ahead, her destiny.
“Yes, my dear, you will have to go underground.” He hesitated stroking his goatee then gave an unctuous chuckle. “No pun intended.”
“You are an evil man, Dixon.”
He grinned, a genuine satisfied smile.
“That I am, Nicki. That I am.”’
All of a sudden the butterfly blade flew, as if by its own volition. The only sound was Dixon’s choked gurgle when it landed in his throat.
At her father’s command, it was a move Nicki had practiced daily since she was ten years old. Until she never missed. Ever.
~~~
Nicki started at the sound of boots in the hall and turned to see the sheriff standing in the doorway. She did her best to cover her surprise.
The sheriff surveyed the room then nodded pleasantly, as if they were discussing the weather.
“You put on quite a show here… Nicki.’”
At her gasp, he added. “Yes, Nicki. I know who you are. And who sent you and your team.”
She snapped. “Apparently everyone does.”
Sheriff Jackson smiled. “I’ve worked with Rafe Boudin for years. We spent time in the Delta Force together.”
Nicki didn’t know whether to be impressed or mad as hell. She decided on the latter.
“Rafe…Rafe set me up? You were here all the time, using me as…as what, Sheriff? As bait?”
He shook his head. “No, no, nothing as crass as that. Rafe holds your instincts in high regard. He told me and Caleb….” When she gave him a questioning frown, the sheriff continued.
“Don’t worry about Caleb. He’s on his way. He’s embarrassed and annoyed that he fell for Dixon’s deception. He’ll recover. No, Rafe was convinced that if we let you have your head, your impeccable instincts would lead us to the perpetrators.”
At her shocked silence, he added. ‘“I admit, we all were not happy when you almost got yourself killed. And you do seem to have great difficulty followin
g orders.”
He shrugged. “But in the long run, you accomplished the task you were sent to do.”
Chapter 4
ISA Headquarters
Pocono Mt’s, PA
Rafe’s state of the art training center in the Pocono Mountains was as top secret as the most secure undercover military establishments. On the surface it appeared to be a private ski resort or retreat center. Its proximity to New York and D.C., easily accessible by helicopter or by any of their private planes, made it the perfect location to meet with clients on their own turf.
Only the individuals who survived the first five levels of Rafe’s rigorous training program were invited to live at the compound between missions. Nicki had been the exception. Rafe had agreed to take her on at Yuri’s request. To everyone’s surprise she’d met all the requirements of the first four levels of training in her first week. In the two months before the El Paso mission, she’d become something of a mascot among the men who all decided it would be better to make her “one of the boys” than to focus on her decidedly un-boy-like attributes. Her fighting talents and fierce spirit coupled with her sassy give and take soon earned her the nickname “hotstuff”, as apt a name as any of them could imagine.
The day after they returned from El Paso, Rafe called Caleb and Nicki to his office for a private debriefing session. Nicki was relieved when he also invited Grayson, his strategic right hand man. She hoped it signified that Rafe thought their mission was important and that it didn’t mean that they were taking her off active duty missions.
As they wound up the discussion, and everyone gathered their materials preparing to leave, Rafe turned to her.
“Nicki, a moment, please. I want to talk with you.”
Nicki frowned. She wasn’t surprised that Rafe wanted to speak with her. He had been professional throughout the meeting. Her killing Zeke became known by the shorthand descriptor “the incident.” While it was part of the conversation, Rafe did not reprimand her in front of the two men. But she knew it was coming.
