“Who do we have here?” John Baxter asks from the bar, cocking his head at me.
“This is the new girl at CrowdedNest,” Tiberi replies, wrapping an arm around Kassie’s slender waist.
“The new girl’s name is Keira,” I clarify. “Thanks for letting me stop by.”
“We’re not about to complain about having a hot red head around,” howls the man named Kip, raising a whiskey glass to me.
“Excuse me,” protests a feminine voice, “you already have a resident hot red head, Kip. Or have you forgotten?”
I glance toward the voice and spot a trio of women at the end of the bar. While Kassie and Kelly may not look like standard biker babes, these three are hitting the stereotype hard. There’s a plump blonde, a very thick brunette, and a voluptuous red head. All three are garbed in tiny tank tops, bare midriffs, and Daisy Dukes. And all three are staring daggers at me.
“Calm down, Sherry,” Kassie tells the pouting redheaded. “We’re not making Keira our mascot or anything. She’s just here for the party.”
“Speaking of,” says a women behind the bar, a gorgeous, modern day Bettie Paige, “I think it’s about time we get this thing started, don’t you?”
A rollicking roar rises up from the assembled men. The extra booze is dragged in from Kassie’s car, the barbecue supplies taken around back to the fire pit behind the clubhouse. Bodies in frenzied motion careen all around me as I stand awkwardly in the middle of the bar. I’ve been brought along to take part in the festivities, but I have no idea how to behave. I don’t even know how I’m allowed to behave. Mitchell and I never discussed this possibility. Can I talk to the members? Ask them about their club? Have a drink? Or five?
“Looking a little lost there, Red,” a voice growls in my ear.
I whip around to find Brooks towering over me. The low light of the bar throws his features into stunning relief. Even the scar across his eyebrow looks perfect here. He’s like the rough-hewn work of a master sculptor...whose work I’m an avid fan of.
“I haven’t spent much time in biker bars,” I smile, planting my hands on my hips.
“You look right at home to me,” he observes. I swallow a gasp as he reaches out and runs a strong, well-worn hand down my bare arm, letting it come to rest on my hip. “Actually, fucking gorgeous is how you look.”
“I, uh...” I stammer, entranced by the heat of his hand against my bare skin.
“Now that you’re here,” he goes on, “I can give you the full MC experience. Ever been with an outlaw before?”
The word outlaw sends a jolt of reason through my lusty mind. “Can’t say that I have,” I reply coolly.
“I’d be happy to change that tonight,” he grins, sliding his hand around to the small of my back. I want to throw my arms around him and slug him all at once. Instead, I settle for an outraged look and a big step back.
“Does that work on most women?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“What?” he asks, casually shoving his hands into his pockets. He doesn’t seem at all deterred by my retreat.
“The mysterious bad boy thing,” I quip. “Does that get you a lot of tail?”
“You know the answer to that, Red,” he shoots back, pulling a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. “Does it intimidate you?”
“Why would I be intimidated by the amount of women you’ve slept with?” I ask.
“You’re not as experienced as I am,” he says. It’s an observation, not a question. “So what? Doesn’t mean we can’t have a good time together.”
“Why would you assume I want to sleep with you?” I ask heatedly.
“Because look,” he grins, lighting his smoke, “you brought it up first.”
My mouth moves soundlessly for a second before I can recover. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” I demand.
“You could say that,” he replies, taking a deep drag of his Marlboro.
“Well then, let’s be clear,” I say, leveling my gaze at his gorgeous face, “you don’t get to have me just because you want me. I’m not a toy, Brooks.”
“Oh, I know that,” he says. “You can’t be a toy. Toys don’t want to be played with. You, on the other hand...”
“You’re just going to keep on assuming that I want you, then?” I ask, exasperated.
“Fuck yeah,” he grins, “because I know you do.”
“We’ll see about that,” I tell him.
“Oh, I know we will,” he says, taking another step toward me. There’s barely an inch of space between us. My every sense is bombarded with his powerful presence. I’m speechless as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and lowers those perfect lips toward mine. I feel my face lifting to his, seeking it out of its own accord. I’m trembling before him, eager and ready. But then, just before he brushes those sweet lips against mine, he stops.
“See?” he growls, his green eyes searing into mine. “You can’t help yourself.”
“Screw you, Brooks,” I grumble, pushing roughly against his chest. I mean to push him away, but of course his bulky body doesn’t budge. I’m the one who’s forced to take a staggering step backward to regain my stiletto-hampered balance. My cheeks are bright red as Brooks looks on with amusement.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Red,” he tells me. “We’re just having a little fun, you and me. Ever heard of fun?”
“I’m not sure we have the same definition of the word,” I reply.
“Guess we’ll find out,” he says, taking a deep swig of his Budweiser. “I, for one, can’t fucking wait.”
“Brooks,” Tiberi calls from across the bar, “Come on outside, man. The Wraiths are here. I want you to meet everyone.”
As Brooks strides toward the door, I realize that I’m alone with the rest of the women. Kassie and Kelly sit with the gorgeous brunette bartender while the other three hold down their end of the bar. All six look between me and Brooks’ retreating form with piqued curiosity.
“You know you’re allowed to tell him to go fuck himself, right?” Kelly asks.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble, sitting down at the bar beside them.
“I mean, you’re a grown woman, do what you like,” Kassie shrugs. “We just don’t want you getting in over your head.”
“What, don’t think I could handle someone like him?” I ask.
“I don’t know anyone who could handle someone like him,” laughs the bartender, “I’m Dani, by the way,” she says.
“Dani’s seen more of Brooks than any of us,” Kassie says. “She’s the only one here all the time while the guys are working. And, more importantly, drinking.”
“Well, that’s a bunch of bullshit,” whines the busty blonde down the bar.
“Dani may be slinging them drinks, but we’re the ones holding down the fort,” sniffs the skinny brunette. “We’ve got dibs.”
“If by ‘holding down the fort’ you mean desperately vying to be someone’s old lady,” Dani says, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Kassie smiles at me, “‘Old lady’ is a term of endearment, here. The highest compliment. It’s like being a member’s wife, even if you’re not technically married.”
“Are you guys married to your, uh, old men?” I ask Kelly and Kassie, “To Declan and Leo, I mean?”
“Not yet,” Kelly smiles. “The legal stuff is not as much of a priority, in this world. In case you couldn’t guess. Some members have civilian wives that stay clear of club business altogether, but we’re sort of a different breed.”
“It can actually be safer not to make it legal sometimes,” Kassie puts in.
“Safer?” I ask, pouncing on her slip of the tongue.
The women all trade terse glances, wondering how much they can tell me about the way things go around here. Kassie finally says, “MC’s aren’t without their scrapes with the law, Keira. It’s usually nothing serious, but it helps to be unattached—legally—when it happens.”
I think about everything I’ve read concerning the
Wraiths and the Nine. “Nothing serious” doesn’t really apply to their legal troubles. Between the gang in-fighting, manslaughter investigations, petty crime, and drug running these clubs have racked up quite the criminal records over their histories. Of course, they’ve never been found seriously guilty of anything, and all charges have been settled or dropped. I’ll need new dirt if I’m going to pin anything real on these guys.
Just as I’m about to press the topic further, a horde of leather-clad men come storming into the bar, laughing and shouting. Their numbers have doubled, and I see why in a moment. A new sigil appears among the Dante’s Nine dice: a ghoulish, eerie portrait of a ghostly woman. The Las Vegas Chapter of the Devil’s Wraiths MC has arrived.
At the head of the pack are the president and VP of the Wraiths, Mac Donnelly and Leo Bane. Mac is even spookier in real life, with his shock of white hair and ruthless eyes. For his part, Leo looks like a ferocious big cat—his jet-black hair and golden eyes are so striking they’re almost otherworldly. Flanking Mac and Leo are the barrel-chested Robert “Bear” Watkins, the would-be farm boy Billy “Buck” Larson, the ginger pyromaniac Anthony “Sparky” Rosetta, and the smart one of the bunch, David “Dewey” Mackenzie. Bringing up the rear are the slick, slender Phil “Fiver” Webb and a blonde, clean-cut younger guy who I know to be Emmett “Tyke” Bronson.
The gang’s all here. Or rather, the gangs are both here. I’m surrounded by dangerous, potentially armed men—and suddenly this little undercover sting doesn’t seem like a foolproof idea after all. I clutch my handbag—and concealed weapon within—a little tighter to my side.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Declan shouts, gesturing to the fully stocked bar. “Have at it, gentlemen!”
The brothers surge forward, descending on the plentiful booze, and I shrink against the bar to stay out of their way. The three women at the end of the bar fan out to meet them, draping bare limbs across smooth leather cuts. I avert my gaze from their wanton displays, eager to keep a low profile. But as discreet as I try to be, the sight of a new girl in the clubs’ midst does not go unnoticed for long.
“Well, howdy,” the one called Buck grins, sidling up next to me. “You a new sweet butt or something, baby?”
“I’m sorry?” I say coldly, cocking an eyebrow at the hick. I distrust him on sight, and put up my guard immediately.
“Sweet butts are like club groupies,” Kelly explains, pressing herself between me and Buck, “And no. She’s not. This is Keira, she works with me and Kassie.”
“Keira, huh?” says the burly Bear, wedging himself in next to us. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”
“Actually, she prefers to be called Red,” I hear Brooks say from behind me. I look over my shoulder just in time to see his massive form step up behind me. He closes the space between our bodies, his hard chest pressing against my back. The second he lays his hands on my hips from behind, the ravenous Wraiths step back.
“Well, Red,” Bear grins, snatching a beer off the bar and dragging Buck away, “you take good care of Brooks, here. It’s his party after all.”
“I’m not here take care of—” I start, but Brooks leans down and whispers harshly in my ear, cutting me off.
“You want to get passed around from brother to brother all night?” he growls. “Or would you prefer to leave here in one piece?”
“I’m capable of looking out for myself,” I inform him, whispering so only he can hear. “I don’t need you to be my bodyguard.”
“Maybe you’d be OK at some college bar or frat house,” Brooks shoots back, “but this is an MC clubhouse, baby. You’re no one’s old lady, and that means you’re fair game.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoff.
“That’s the truth of it,” Brooks insists, “Stick with me tonight, Red.”
“You’re just trying to claim me for yourself,” I shoot back.
“Yes,” he growls, cupping my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze, “I am. And even if you won’t admit it, I know you want me to. Denying that won’t make it any less true, babe.”
I stare up at him and know at once that he’s right. I do need protection here. These men aren’t concerned with flirtation and courtship. They don’t ask for permission or wait to take what they want. They’re monsters...so I might as well stick with the monster I actually find attractive. Even if he is crazy intimidating.
“All right,” I finally say, laying a hand on his hard chest, “you’re my watch dog for the night, then.”
“I’m your man for the night,” he corrects me, catching my hand in his and pulling me tightly against him.
“That doesn’t mean I’m just going to drop my panties,” I inform him. But my breathless voice gives me away at once.
“Why deny yourself the thing you want?” he asks, looping his arms around the small of my back. My head is swimming with the closeness of him.
I’m so lost in those green eyes that I almost give him an honest answer: Because I’m a federal agent looking to take your asses down, you gorgeous fucking specimen of a man. And I doubt my boss would approve of the fuck first, ask questions later tactic. But now that I think of it...getting closer to Brooks means getting more access to the clubs. Maybe letting myself have a little fun with him would be good for the case...
“What’s this?” I hear a low voice remark. I tear my gaze away from Brooks and find myself staring at a pair of golden eyes. We’ve been joined at the bar by Leo and Kelly, as well as Dec and Kassie. All paired off, as it were. The Devil’s Wraiths VP looks between Brooks and I, clearly satisfied with the match.
“Lucky man,” Leo nods.
“Lucky as hell,” Brooks agrees, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Kelly here wanted to push Tyke your way,” Leo says to me, his golden eyes gleaming, “but I guess you prefer your guys a bit rougher around the edges?”
I think of puny Milo and bite back a laugh. “You might say that,” I allow.
Kelly and Kassie look at me intently. I can tell they’re trying to give me a way out, if I want it. I know they’re still trying to get a read on Brooks, since he’s so new around here. But despite their confidence that no one here will do me harm, I have no way of knowing that for sure. My head doesn’t have the information it needs, but my gut is telling me that Brooks is my best bet tonight. And my gut is never wrong.
“Let me get you a drink,” Brooks says, running his hands over the points of my hips.
“God, yes,” I mutter, before I can stop myself. Surely I’m not the first undercover agent to toss back a few with the people she’s investigating. I have a feeling that teetotalers don’t get invited back to these club shindigs.
“I like her!” Kelly’s old man crows.
“She’s growing on me,” Declan allows.
“Just don’t try to keep up with these maniacs,” Kassie warns me, jabbing her thumb at Declan, “they’re tanks.”
“I promise,” I assure her, as Dani lines up a long row of shot glasses along the bar.
The men and women of the Wraiths and Nine crowd against the long wooden bar, each grabbing up a shot of whiskey as Declan calls for their attention.
“Here’s to Caleb Brooks,” he crows, “the newest man of Dante’s Nine, one of the best men I’ve ever met. Welcome to the family, bro!”
Stomping feet and rallying voices fill the already cacophonous space. Someone puts a classic Lynyrd Skynyrd song on the jukebox, and the party has officially begun. I feel myself getting swept up in this place, this energy. I stare down at my glass of amber liquor and smile to myself. When in Rome, have a fucking drink, right? I knock back the shot, steadying myself against Brooks’ incredible body. He looks down at me, pleased and clearly turned on by my gumption. One thing’s for sure—I’ve never had this much fun at work in my life.
“Hey, Sparky,” Leo calls across the bar, “why don’t you go do what you do best so we can have some fun?”
A maniacal smile spreads across the red-bearded
face of Sparky, the Wraiths resident pyro. He scampers out the back door, and the rest of us follow in a wave. I drink in a huge breath of night air, the smoky taste of the whiskey still fresh on my tongue. Looking around at the assembled men and women, I have to admit that they’re not what I expected. Though there’s an element of danger to them, they protect each other, following a fierce code. There’s honor among thieves—could there be honor among outlaws too?
Brooks keeps one hand on me at all times. I feel myself pressing back against his touch, reveling in the small point of contact. I’ve already decided to see where things go with him; why not enjoy it?
“How’re you feeling?” Brooks asks, guiding me away from the jostling crowd.
“I’m good,” I tell him, “just enjoying the party.”
“I can tell,” he grins, running a hand up between my shoulder blades. I can’t stop a shiver from running through my body at his touch. “Wound a bit tight there?” he asks, his crooked smile widening.
A pulse of excitement lights me up as the word tight trips off his lips. I remember my sexy dream all at once, every single image. Thank god the darkness is hiding the color in my cheeks. Before I can respond to Brooks’ evocative question, a roar goes up from the party. A huge crackling sound and blast of heat erupt as a wild light shoots into the sky. A roiling, massive bonfire comes to life at the center of the gathering. Sparky holds his arms up in triumph before the blaze. Guess having a serial arsonist around can come in handy.
“Impressed?” Brooks asks, looking at the fire.
My eyes don’t rest on the giant blaze. They’re fixed on Brooks’ face as the firelight dances across his features. “Yes,” I breathe.
Impulsively (Dante's Nine MC) Page 7
