by Faye, Carmen
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.
Captured copyright @ 2016by Carmen Faye. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.
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BURN
BRUTE
COLE
INKED
TEASE
TEMPTING TARGET
ROUGH JUSTICE
CHAPTER 1
"I'm in," Melissa spoke in a voice that was barely audible through the microphone hidden in her clothing. "But the damn door is locked! What the hell am I supposed to do? How do I get the fuck out of here?"
She crouched into the corner of the closet and waited patiently for an answer. Not that patient was a word that anyone ever used to describe her. But sometimes, you had to improvise and given her current location and situation, she didn't have the ability to hurry the process.
"Hang on Fuller," Andy's voice crackled in her ear. "We're working on that," he finished.
"Want to work just a wee bit faster guys?" Her irritation came through quickly and clearly in her voice.
"Yes ma’am," Andy answered.
She could hear voices above her. Mostly likely those of her targets. Which meant she needed to get the fuck out of this closet. She hated relying on other people, especially ones she didn't know all that well.
Melissa had only been in the Vegas office for a little over two months. She'd transferred to escape the frigid cold of not only New Jersey, but also her very recent divorce. Vegas had been hounding her to come their way for about a year. The heat and change of scenery suddenly became a hell of a lot more appealing.
Although her reputation as a top ATF agent in Jersey had preceded her, the guys here still didn't like being told what to do by a chick. It wasn't unusual. It'd taken her years to earn the respect of the boys in her old office. She'd had to put up with a lot of stupid shit for a long time.
That was her biggest issue with the transfer. She was not willing to sink back to the bottom of the totem pole just because she was new. She'd taken down some of the biggest criminals in both Jersey and New York and she'd be damned if she was going to cower to a bunch of masochistic guys that got their boxer briefs in a bunch at her authority.
Yet as she cowered in the corner of a basement closet she had no choice but to wait on her next move. She fucking hated stings where she had no control. She hated anything where she had no control.
"Today, Wallaby!" snapping in a whisper seemed futile, but she couldn't help it.
"Uh," Andy stuttered for a minute before he could find his voice, "sorry ma’am, err, uh, Agent Fuller. We’re trying," he managed to get out.
"Trying?" she placed emphasis on the word as she said it. "I'm inside the house, ready to go, and you’re fucking trying?"
Melissa had to calm down. Take a few breaths. She was going to scream in a minute, but she couldn't. Why the hell hadn't she gone with the original idea? Seduce the guy. Get inside that way. Not by sneaking in some ancient fucking escape route.
Oh yea, she thought to herself. Because fucking some guy to catch his criminal activity didn't seem very appealing.
"At least then I wouldn't be trapped in a closet," she said aloud.
"What's that?" Andy asked
"Find my fucking way out of the closet, Wallaby," she answered. "Now!"
The voices above her were loud enough to be heard, but not clear enough to make out the words. She knew damn well what was going on though. She didn't need the confession.
Just above her head sat the Nomad Devils, or at least a good portion of them. Most definitely sitting among them would be Asher Hudson. He was not only the leading pretty boy in Vegas, and most eligible bachelor; he was also the one who ran the whole show.
Melissa had set her sights on the Nomads long before she arrived in Vegas. They were affiliates of the Kings, a group she'd taken down the year before. If she were honest with anyone, including herself, she'd admit that the Nomads were half of her reasoning for the move.
Both the Nomads and the Kings were well-known and highly feared motorcycle clubs. There was a long list of these clubs throughout the country, and if Fuller had her way she would take each of them down. There was no place in the world for groups of hardened criminals traveling around and controlling communities through crime and fear.
She'd decided on the Nomads because she'd learned in her work that they ranked in the top. Not just in Vegas, but across the country. Hudson ran one of the absolute worst clubs she'd ever learned about, was involved in the majority of Nevada crime and had never seen a day of trouble in his life.
Instead, he lived a lavish life of luxury. Hell, the closet she was currently stuck in was nicer than her own fucking bedroom. But as she knelt underneath a rack of clothes he'd probably never even worn, she vowed that she would be the one to make him pay for all of the trouble he'd caused.
"Wallaby!" she snapped again. "This isn't getting any better."
"Fuller," the voice had changed and that was never a good sign. "It's Logan," he spoke as if she didn't know the sound of his arrogant and cocky voice.
"I'm not up for a chat, Logan," she snapped. "How the fuck do I get out of here?"
"We aren't sure yet," he answered honestly. "This wasn't in the plans we were given."
"So you weren't better prepared is what you’re saying?" she was getting angrier by the minute.
"We had the plans. You were entering an open closet that would give you access to the downstairs. Then you were going to take the...." he was in the process of explaining the plan she already knew.
"I know damn well what the plan was going to be, Logan," Melissa could barely tolerate him in good circumstances and she was far from anything positive at the moment. "But obviously the whole thing’s gone tits up. So what now?"
"Sit tight while we try to find out how to open the hatch," he replied. "We’re doing our best."
"Fucking do better," she replied and went back to deep breathing.
The plan had seemed simple enough. She would come through the underground escape, sneak up into the closet, enter the basement and then make her way along their recommended passage through the house. Her goal was to catch the club in their secret meeting about an upcoming crime. One involving massive loads of weapons and drugs.
None of them, her included, had bothered to make sure the plans they had for the house were still valid. She had assumed that Logan had taken care of that. They also had not made a backup plan. Fuller never fucked up, so she hadn't felt the need. Until she sat beneath suits that cost more than her car, the fact that the route she took in didn't open from inside the house hadn't been an issue.
She felt anger. Most in her situation would be afraid. There were a group of hardcore thugs just above her discussing an impeding trade of massive weapons for dangerous drugs with the Mexican drug cartel. She was trapped inside the house on a mission to take them down. Yet instead of worrying for her safety, she was planning on being a threat to Logan's.
"Fuller," Logan’s condescending tone came through again. "We could have gone the easier route. The guaranteed route. Don't be knocking on our guys for th
e information being wrong. It wasn't wrong when they acquired it."
She knew why Logan was being an asshole. He'd been the one to propose that she seduce Hudson. He was well known around town for his good looks and indescribable charm. He used it often. Apparently a couple dimples and boyish features took away from the skin full of tattoos adorned in leather and absolutely disgusting criminal activity.
Every time Asher was on the table for something, he got a woman. Judge. Cops. He always got women to deal with. And they swooned and stuttered and gave him every fucking thing he wanted.
Logan had been of the belief that she could take advantage of that knowledge. Apparently Hudson had been checking around town about her. He'd heard of her and knew that she was on a mission to take him out was her guess. But Logan thought it was a great opportunity. She'd play along, get the goods and knock him on his ass. Because, according to her partner and current nemesis, no one expected her to be cold and absolutely void of any desire for men.
Asshole.
She'd decided she wanted to do it the same way they would. She had to show these guys that she wasn't going to use her body or feminine roots to get her goals. They had to respect her like they did each other. And Logan had to quit trying to get her to see him outside of work. So here she sat, locked in the closet of a well-known criminal while members from the roughest drug cartel in the world were just feet away. She silently wished she'd done it Logan's way. Even though the concept repulsed her.
"We're almost there Fuller," Andy was back. "Logan has someone on the phone with answers now."
Relief washed over her. She was about to at least get out of here. She'd much rather abort a mission than fail completely. It wasn't in her nature.
"About damn time," she couldn't appear grateful or afraid. "I'm ready for a new view."
"It'll just be a sec," He replied. "What?" he spoke and she was certain he wasn't talking to her. "Okay," his voice was quieter into her ear which led her to believe he was moving the mike. "Fuller, I'm going to go do something for Logan for just a sec. Hang tight and one of us will be right back."
"You're going to leave me with no communication?" she was livid at the idea. "No wonder you guys can't accomplish a goddamn thing."
"It'll only be a sec," Andy spoke. "Promise."
She heard the mike hit the desk at the same time she heard the click above her head. It was in that moment that she wanted to scream, but knew that would get her killed. So she hardened her jawline, tightened her eyes and looked up into the barrel of a .45.
"Well lookie here, Mikey," the very large man holding the weapon spoke to someone she couldn't see. "We have a visitor."
He smiled at Melissa and she refused to return the gesture.
"Asher’s gonna be pissed," she heard a voice with a distinct southern accent reply.
"I don't know about that," the first thug spoke again.
He reached down, grabbed her arm, and lifted her to her feet. She still couldn't see the other guy to determine what her chances might be in this situation. That meant she had to play it cool.
"Hmmm," the southern thug muttered. "You're right. Asher might actually like this guest."
Both guys laughed as the first one grabbed Melissa’s wrists and began tying them behind her back with some rope. Another set of hands, she presumed from the southern boy, reached up and yanked the earpiece out that she was wearing. The first tried to search the trim of her shirt for the mike, but couldn't seem to find it.
"Oh well," he spat as he ripped the buttons apart on her blouse and tore the shirt from her body. "Sorry sweetheart, had to get rid of that mike." The grin grew wider. "But nice tits."
Melissa stood in front of the men, topless except for white bra she wore, and refused to flinch.
She felt the fabric touch her eyelids as it wrapped around her head and blinded her.
"At least we know what to get him for his birthday," the southern boy laughed as she felt a piece of cloth being shoved into her mouth.
"No doubt," replied the other as he tightened the ropes around her wrists. "Check her for weapons," he ordered.
Suddenly she felt her pants being pulled loose and slid down her legs. For a moment Fuller wondered what the guys were planning to do to her. One of them lifted a leg as the other pulled the slacks off. They repeated this process with the other leg.
"Find anything?" the first guys asked.
She felt a sweaty hand slip between her legs and begin to rub. Nothing about the action excited her.
"Ice cold," southern boy laughed. "Otherwise I think we’re good."
"Well, let's take her to Hudson," the first commented. "Leave her clothes here. I'm pretty sure he would prefer it this way."
And with that, both men grabbed an arm and led her out of the closet. Dressed only in her undergarments, bound and gagged, Melissa made a mental note to kick both Logan and Andy's ass once she was free.
CHAPTER 2
"What the fuck is going on here Hudson?" The question wasn't unexpected for him.
The commotion had startled them all. Asher had assured everyone in attendance that there would be no problems with meeting at his home. He was secure. It was safe. Yet as they sat discussing details that weren’t supposed to be overheard, they'd heard the commotion from downstairs.
Since he didn't have children or pets, he had to assume it was a problem. He'd sent a couple of his men to check it out and there'd been no more noise.
"Manny," Asher spoke with expected reverence to the man he was addressing. "I assure you that there are no problems."
"Sounded like a fucking problem to me, pendejo." The short Mexican stated. "A big problem if any of this has been leaked."
"Nothing has been leaked." Asher assured his associate.
"We're going to call it a night." The man stood up. "Call me later with an update. If all is okay, we will return tomorrow to conclude the deal." With that three of the seven men remaining in the room walked out, leaving Asher by himself.
Asher was beyond livid. This was likely the biggest deal in his career and it was rocky to begin with. Getting any one of those guys to trust him had taken a lot of fucking work. If it blew up in his face, he was going to go apeshit crazy on whoever had caused it.
Manuel Guiterro was not an easygoing man. Heading up one of the biggest and most dangerous organized drug rings in the world left him with no time for problems. In his world, problems would destroy people. Problems would end his life. So any hint of problems could cause him to end someone else's.
Asher had worked hard to meet with him, having spent years proving himself on the small circuit. Now he had a chance to achieve his main objective and there wasn't a damned person going to stop him. He didn't give a fuck who it was.
"Where are Charlie and Mike?" He asked his closest brother, Dakota.
"I don't know, man." Dakota answered. "They went to see what the hell made that noise."
"Find them." He waved his hand and Dakota followed its motion. “Make sure nothing went wrong.”
"Found ‘em," Dakota pointed to the door.
Asher turned towards his brothers, ready to demand answers, when he saw what they'd brought and was stunned into silence.
"Look what we found in the closet downstairs," Mike spoke in a thick southern drawl. "She was all hiding in the corner." He pulled the girl forward. Charlie didn't speak at all.
Asher studied the girl for a moment. Between the makeshift blindfold they covered her eyes with and the gag they stuffed in her mouth, it was hard to tell who she was. But as she stood before him, bound and gagged, in nothing but a sexy matching pair of panties and bra; he wanted to find out.
"You found a half-naked woman in my coat closet?" He looked at Charlie realizing that Mike wouldn't be very useful for information. His attention was too intensely focused on what Hudson presumed was a very sexy ass.
"She wasn't half-naked when we found her," Charlie admitted. "We were checking for weapons." He looked at the girl and then
at Asher. "We thought you'd prefer..."
"Good call," Hudson smiled. "Very good call."
He walked around the woman and examined what he saw. Smooth skin the shade of fine porcelain. Dark shoulder length hair that contrasted so deeply with her skin that he assumed the color wasn’t original. There was a small tattoo located on the middle of her back, likely one that few had ever seen. She had long legs that dipped into a pair of athletic shoes, obviously prepared for activity when she'd entered his home.
"Take those shoes off." He ordered and watched Charlie obey quickly.
She had turned her face towards the floor so her features were hard to examine. He did notice the rigid jawline that said she wasn't planning to talk anytime soon. Her nose was slender with a sharp angled tip. He couldn't see her eyes beneath the blindfold but judging by the way her forehead tightened beneath the fabric, her eyes must have been scrunched almost as tightly as her jawline.
