Impulsively (Dante's Nine MC)

by Colleen Masters

  “That’s me,” I wink.

  “And the MC’s...they don’t hold it against you, the fact that you were gathering intelligence on them?” Mitchell asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “It’ll take time for me to earn their trust back, but it paid off in the end,” I shrug, “Assuming, that is, that the Lorenzo Family will be prosecuted for buying Bruno off?”

  “Oh, that they will,” Chuck nods. “We’ve got bank records from Jeff Bruno that will finally provide some hard evidence against them.”

  “And Bruno?” I press, “I assume he’s getting locked up?”

  “Fuck yes,” Mitchell nods, “His assault against Ms. Taylor alone would be enough to put him behind bars. But his actions against the FBI, against his country...those will keep him locked up for sure.”

  “Good,” I say resolutely, “We’re lucky to be rid of him.”

  “There’s always one bad seed to spoil the lot,” Chuck says, “but we’ve weeded him out now, thanks to you.”

  “You really think there was just that one bad seed?” I laugh, “I’m starting to think that things aren’t as black and white as all that, Jones.”

  “We recruit the best people we can,” Mitchell says.

  “Of course you do,” I shrug, “But that doesn’t guarantee a damn thing.”

  “What are you saying, Collins?” Jones asks, cocking an eyebrow at me.

  “I’m saying...” I begin, trying to choose my words carefully. “I’m saying that I may be having a change of heart, concerning my career.”

  I watch as Mitchell and Jones catch my drift. There’s no delicate way to go about this, I guess. But after all that’s happened to me over the course of this case, I can’t just go back to my old life here in San Bernardino.

  “Are you saying...you’d like to do something else within the FBI?” Mitchell asks slowly.

  “Not exactly,” I tell him with a bittersweet smile, “I’m saying I’d like to explore other options...altogether.”

  “You want to leave?” Chuck asks. It breaks my heart to hear the edge of sadness in his voice, “But you just nailed this case, Collins. You could have any assignment you wanted here. Really make a difference.”

  “That’s the thing,” I shrug, “I’m not sure if this is where I can make the most of my skills. Make the most of my life. I guess I’m just looking to find the place I’m happiest, gentlemen. And I don’t think that place is at the FBI.”

  “No. It’s in some biker bar or other, right?” Mitchell asks, surly to be losing a good agent.

  “Perhaps,” I shrug, “it remains to be seen. But I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t at least see what else is out there.”

  “We’ll need you to testify against Bruno,” Mitchell says, back to business at once.

  “Oh, gladly,” I smile, “but after that, I’ll be taking an indefinite leave of absence.”

  “What are you going to do in the meantime, other than learn to shoot pool and ride a Harley?” Chuck asks.

  “I’ve been offered a full time position at CrowdedNest,” I reply. “It’s a good, solid operation they have going there. I think it will do a lot of people a ton of good. It’ll be nice to do something good for the world...that doesn’t involve gun fights and maniacal rogue agents.”

  “Can’t argue with that logic,” Chuck laughs softly, “but we’ll miss you around here, Collins. I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you too, you grumpy old bastard,” I say, reaching into my purse, “but I hope you’ll take this parting gift as a token of my everlasting affection.”

  Chuck lets out a barking laugh as I hand him a crumpled package of Hostess cupcakes—the very same gift he gave me to mark my two-year anniversary at the FBI. It’s hard to believe that it was only a month or so ago that we were marking that occasion. How quickly things can change when you follow your heart.

  “It’s been a pleasure working with you,” Mitchell tells me, “I hope we’ll see you back in these parts someday.”

  “If this case has taught me anything,” I reply, “It’s that anything at all can happen.”

  I see myself out of Chuck’s office, making my way through the dead-eyed office that I once called home. In those days, I was all but invisible to my coworkers. But today, their weary eyes follow me as I make my way past. In a few short weeks, I feel as though I’ve transformed into a whole new person. A whole new woman. And I know who’s partly responsible for that.

  The California sunlight warms my bare arms as I burst out the front doors. I take a huge gulp of fresh air, a wide grin breaking across my face. I feel as though the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders. After all this sneaking, pretending, deceiving, I’m finally free to be myself. To be with the people I’ve come to love and respect. One, in particular.

  “You coming or what, Red?” I hear Brooks call.

  I turn to see my man leaning against his Harley across the parking lot. His tall, perfectly balanced form is an absolute vision. The inky black leather of his cut gleams in the sunlight as he draws on a Marlboro, his emerald eyes shining in the sun. The second I glance his way I feel that now-familiar tightening between my thighs. There’s nothing standing in our way, now that I’ve cut ties with the FBI. I’m free to be his, to take him for my own. I can hardly fathom what that means for us as a pair, but I know that it’s going to be so, so good.

  “They didn’t try to cuff you to your desk, then?” Brooks asks, as I walk toward him.

  “I wouldn’t have let them if they tried,” I smile, plucking the cigarette from his mouth and taking a long drag, “I’ve got better places to be these days.”

  “Such as?” Brooks grins, placing his hands firmly on my hips.

  “Pretty much anywhere you and I can be alone,” I reply, closing the space between our bodies, “now that I’m a free woman, and all.”

  “Now that’s a plan I can get behind,” he growls, snatching the smoke from my lips and crushing it beneath his heel. “Hop on.”

  We climb onto his Harley, settling against each other as if we’ve been together for years. It may seem crazy, but that’s exactly how it feels with Brooks. I lean my cheek against the back of his cut as he revs the engine to life. The powerful machine vibrates like crazy between my legs as I wrap my arms tightly around Brooks’ sculpted torso. He swings the bike around the parking lot, heading for the open road. I glance back at the resident agency—that dinky little building that owned me for two years of my life. It’s amazing how small it seems now, as it disappears behind us.

  I can’t stop smiling as we fly along the open road, en route back to Nevada. With every passing minute, another bit of my old life falls away. I have no way of knowing how this decision of mine is going to play out. But it’s enough to know that I’ve made a decision of my own, for once. I’m not just letting things be decided for me. At last, I’m in control.

  It’s a feeling I could certainly get used to.

  Night begins to gather around us as we make our way ever forward. Little by little, the sun sinks toward the horizon, revealing a dizzying canopy of stars. My red curls fan out behind me as the wind catches them, and my spirit soars with all the strength and speed of the Harley beneath us. Right now, anything in the world seems possible.

  As we bear down on Vegas, I recognize the roads leading toward the Forty-Five Club. But just before we reach that rollicking bar, Brooks turns off down a dusty dirt road instead. I look up at him questioningly, but he keeps his eyes trained forward as we trundle along. We drive out to a secluded overlook, far away from any prying eyes. A low throbbing starts in my core as I realize that Brooks has made good on finding us a place to be alone. He rolls the Harley to a stop, lifting the helmet off his chestnut curls.

  “Here we are,” he grins, looking over his shoulder at me.

  “Nice place,” I say lightly, running my hands down his cut arms.

  “I thought you’d like it,” he says.

  I cry out in surprise as he turns and scoop
s me up, drawing me into his lap. I straddle him right there on the bike. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I can’t help but let my hips grinds against him, ever-so-softly. Brooks runs his hands down my back, pulling me close. His lips find the tender skin of my throat, kissing along my neck and collarbone.

  “Thank you, Brooks,” I whisper, taking myself off guard.

  “For what?” he murmurs, catching my face in his hands.

  “For...all of this,” I say, gesturing to the wide open space around us. “For showing me how exciting life can be. For showing me what it’s like to be wanted. And loved. And all at the same time.”

  “You never have to thank me for that,” Brooks says firmly, his green gaze cutting through to my very soul. “We saved each other, Red. But that doesn’t mean we owe each other. Besides...I can think of far more exciting ways for us to show our gratitude...”

  A low groan slips from my throat as he places his hands on my thighs, inching upward.

  “Sounds good to me...” I sigh, clasping my fingers behind his neck.

  “But for the record,” he says, letting his fingertips brush against the inseam of my jeans, “I’m glad you happened along, Quinn. Even if it was to bring down our MC.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but can only manage to moan softly as Brooks strokes his fingers along my sex. There will be plenty of time for banter later, I’m sure. Right now there’s only one thing I want.

  “Let’s do it,” I grin, “Right here. Right now.”

  “On the Harley?” Brooks asks, grinning deviously.

  “Hell yeah,” I laugh, whipping open his belt buckle.

  “Red,” he says, running his fingers through my hair, “I’m starting to think that you might just be the perfect woman.”

  But words fall away as our lips come together. The pieces of clothing we cast off onto the dusty ground are like the final scraps of who I used to be, fluttering away on the breeze. If this is my initiation into the MC life, I can’t wait to see what the future holds.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Colleen Masters grew up in Central Jersey, and studied Theatre Arts and English at Monmouth University. (Going to college right next to the beach? Hell yes :D) Her dream has always been to make a profession out of writing, so she moved to NYC five years ago and has been working her butt off to make that dream come true ever since. Right now, she lives on the Upper East Side with her darling fiancé and their corgi, Frodo. (Bit of a lit nerd, what can she say?) All of her friends get such a kick out of her “survival job,” but she doesn’t really see writing as a day job at all–it’s way too fun for that!

  Her books are truly a labor of love, and she’s so happy to share them with so many readers.

  Connect with Colleen Masters and other Hearts Collective authors online at

  http://www.Hearts-Collective.com, Facebook, Twitter.

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  OTHER BOOKS BY COLLEEN MASTERS:

  Faster Harder (Take Me... #1) by Colleen Masters

  Faster Deeper (Take Me... #2) by Colleen Masters

  Faster Longer (Take Me... #3) by Colleen Masters

  Faster Hotter (Take Me...#4) by Colleen Masters

  If you enjoyed Colleen Masters' Impulsively (A Dante's Nine MC Novel)

  Then you'll also enjoy reading Devil’s Kiss (Widowmakers Motorcycle Club) by Celia Loren.

  Read below for an excerpt!!

  Prologue

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Eight Years Ago...

  I lean against the white-slatted wall of my parents’ ranch house. The Nevada night is heavy with heat, waves of it still rising from the brush-covered ground. Only the sound of parents’ voices cuts through the thick air, carrying out through the living room window above my head. I don’t know what they’re arguing about, and I don’t really care. Their arguments always seem pointless to me anyway—needless and repetitive. The sound of a glass shattering inside startles me. There’s a short silence, and the yelling resumes, louder now than ever.

  Pushing off the wall, I pull a pack of Camel Lights from my back pocket. I got one of my older friends to buy them for me. I’m still a couple years away from being about to buy my own smokes, but I’m not going to let that stop me. My mom smokes, though both of my parents tell me not to. But I don’t really feel like listening to either of them right now.

  I put some distance between me and the house, take out my Zippo, and light up a cigarette. I inhale, but not all the way. I don’t really care for the feel of the smoke traveling down to my lungs, but I do like the idea of doing something my parents don’t approve of. It’s silly, I know, but satisfying all the same. I ash onto the dirt and carefully stamp out the smoke, making sure to crush it completely. The brush is dry out here—it could catch fire in an instant.

  The low drone of a motorcycle engine signals my older brother’s return. Drew—or Stick, as he likes to be called now—saved up for years to buy his first Harley, working every job he could find. The roaring sound grows louder, and I spot two orbs of light shining down the road that leads to our house. A shiver runs through me, despite the warm weather.

  Drew is probably riding with West, his lifelong best friend. They go everywhere together. Stick is the more outgoing of the two, with a mouth that his body can’t quite back up. West is the one who always finishes the fights Stick starts. West’s mom is a real piece of work, and his dad is long gone, so he doesn’t like to spend much time at home. My family life might not be ideal, but it’s better than his. My parents let him stay with us a lot when he was younger. And now...well, he sure grew up.

  West is only three years older than me, just nineteen, but he looks like a grown man already. He’s constantly surrounded by women. I’ve seen Stick get plenty of girls interested with his personality and his sense of humor, but all West needs to land a lady is one look. I feel like such a dumb little girl around him. I can always feel my face getting flushed, and my dad inevitably catches me and laughs because I can barely look at West, much less talk intelligibly when he’s around.

  Puffing nervously on my cigarette, I pull in more than I mean to. I burst out in a coughing fit, just as the boys arrive. Through watering eyes, I watch the bikes pull into the driveway and hear the engines cut out. I catch my breath and hear the screen door open and shut. Stick will be able to talk my parents down. He’s good at that.

  I take a smaller drag of the cigarette and glance back toward the yawning darkness at the rear of the backyard. A twig breaking by the house snaps my focus back. In the dim light spilling out of the windows, I see West making his way out toward me, walking slowly. I can only see the outline of his body, but know it’s him. He has about fifteen pounds and three inches on my father already, and I don’t even think he’s done growing yet.

  Shit, I think to myself, What do I do? I try to slow my heartbeat, which has already spiked. I aim to look casual, and immediately feel tenser. I nervously run my hand through my hair as West ambles up to me. At least I’m wearing my short jean cut-offs and a cute tank. Could be worse.

  “Hey there, Tiny,” he says by way of greeting. I swallow hard as I feel him stop next to me. This far from the light of the house, I can’t even see his expression. His voice has gotten so deep. Raspy, with a hint of devil-may-care arrogance in it.

  “No one calls me that anymore,” I reply, trying for brave but coming off whiny. Tiny is what my family always used to call me because I was so small for my age. But I grew an inch and a half this year, which puts me...well, still below average height, but at least not as far below.

  “Oh, yeah? What do they call you now?” West asked, amused.

  “Olive,” I say, “You know. My name.”

  “Olive,” he repeats, tasting the word. I feel a little rush at the sound of my name on his lips. “Aren’t you a little young to be smoking, Olive?”

  “I turned sixteen in
March,” I reply, attempting to match his cool detachment.

  “Sixteen, huh?” he murmurs. I feel his hand close around my wrist and gasp. He slowly but firmly draws my hand, and the cigarette in it, up towards his face. I’m not sure what he’s doing, but I can feel my blood rushing loudly through my veins.

  He brings my hand up to his mouth and takes a long drag of the cigarette. His thumb strokes the soft inside of my wrist as he breathes in. Time slows down to a crawl at his touch. Lowering my hand, he keeps the cigarette, my cigarette, cradled between his lips. He turns his head and drops the smoke from his mouth onto the dirt, quickly stomping it out with his boot.

  “Hey! I don’t have many left!” I protest.

  “Good,” he growls.

  I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that he still has his hand wrapped around my wrist. I fall quiet at once as a long moment passes between us. In the dark, I feel safe with him beside me. I can feel his gaze on me, warm and lingering.

  He tugs me gently toward him, closing the distance between us. I only come up to his chest, and can smell sweat and fresh air on him. He draws my arms around him, and I rest them on the small of his back. He runs a hand up my back. I can feel his fingers glance over the clasp of my bra underneath my shirt. My head feels light, and my knees begin to shake.

  He brings his hand to my face, running his thumb over my lips. I can’t help but let them part. My head tilts into his palm as he cups my cheek. He leans down, and I feel like I’m watching the moment from outside my body. I’ve been kissed once before by this guy at school, but it was sloppy and rushed. And when my brother found out, the kid got a black eye and a broken rib. Or two. I can tell this kiss is going to be a whole different experience. A wonderful experience...

  I breathe in sharply and close my eyes just before his firm lips touch mine. I feel his mouth open against mine, and I follow his lead. His tongue presses into my mouth, and my eyebrows raise at the sensation. I’m amazed how good it feels. I let my tongue glide against his, and feel my body heating up.