Running With the Devil

by Lorelei James

  Kenna’s angry voice broke the silence. “You had no right. You had no fucking right to run your nasty little report on my friends.”

  Drake’s head whipped in her direction. “You knew Shawnee had done time?”

  “Yes, I knew. And one thing your slice of shit report doesn’t tell you is what really happened ten years ago. And why Shawnee became a sacrificial lamb to save the rest of her family from their abusive father.”

  “Kenna—”

  “Shawnee would never do anything to hurt me. Never. So cross her off your list. Besides, she’s in Harding County on a dig. There’s no way she could’ve shot at us.”

  Geo shook his head. “She’s not at the site. We checked with her supervisor. No one has seen her for two days.”

  Kenna fidgeted and glanced at her hands.

  Drake’s gaze locked on her. “But you did. When did you see her last, Kenna?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Because you’re making me think you’re covering for her.”

  “I’m not covering for her. I’ve got no reason to. Neither of us has done anything wrong.”

  “Then answer the question.”

  “Fine. I saw her yesterday in Sturgis when you left me outside the bar.”

  Son of a bitch. He clenched his hands into fists. Counted to ten. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Kenna shrugged. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to her before she took off.”

  “You don’t think it’s coincidence you got mugged when she was skulking around?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I trust Shawnee way more than I trust you so just drop it, Agent March.” Her angry gaze flicked back to him. “Why didn’t you just ask me about her?”

  Drake leaned against the wall. “I did. You didn’t say one goddamn word about her being a former dealer, Kenna.”

  “She’s not a former dealer! She’s an archeologist!”

  “Explain why you didn’t think her criminal record was relevant information after someone tried to kill you?”

  Kenna didn’t say a word.

  “As for your buddy Trent, who you assured me didn’t have the balls to fire a gun, well, surprise, surprise. He’s been arrested for that very thing. So, I don’t care if Shawnee is your roommate, best friend, or what. When she shows up she’s got a lot to answer for.”

  “And Trent?”

  He pointed his head toward the bathroom door. “Bobby’s about to check that out.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Sit here and nap while you pick apart my life?”

  “Yes.”

  She glared at him before sadness set in. She turned her head away and closed her eyes.

  *

  Kenna hadn’t uttered a sound in hours. Drake and Geo worked. Bobby returned without any information on Trent’s recent whereabouts. He knew better than to ask Kenna.

  Drake controlled his burst of anger when Bobby told him Trent also lived in Kenna’s condo complex.

  Why hadn’t she told him?

  Because you’ve been a bully and she’s got a reason not to trust you.

  Shit. He’d fucked this up every possible way.

  “Takes me awhile to get ready so I should go get started,” Kenna said.

  He rose to his feet. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Not necessary.”

  Their gazes met. Clashed.

  Defiant, she lifted her stubborn chin higher. “Relax, Agent March. I won’t run out on you. I’m fully versed in the consequences.” She held out her hands. “You gonna cuff me again?”

  The little snot had the audacity to throw that in his face? “No.”

  “Then the key, please.”

  Drake fished the old-fashioned fob from his pocket and tossed it to her. “I’ll be over in a little bit. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “I know you don’t trust me, boss. But remember the sooner you get your information the sooner I can get back to my real life.” With a haughty toss of her head, she exited the room.

  He sagged against the paneling, somewhat reassured to see her temper had returned.

  “You stupid son-of-a-bitch. Did you have to sleep with her?” Geo demanded.

  “Yes,” Drake snapped, “I did.”

  Silence.

  “Shit, Drake, this ain’t no run of the mill case. You’re in deep trouble with her, aren’t you?”

  Drake merely nodded.

  Geo stared at Drake thoughtfully. “What are you going to do?”

  “My goddamn job.”

  “But you’ve never messed around with an informant. You’ve never stepped over that professional line. What is so special about her that makes you act so—”

  “Drop it. I’ll deal with it—and her—later.”

  The toilet flushed.

  Bobby stepped out of the bathroom. “Did I hear the door slam?”

  “You’d better deal with it now. If your judgment is off even a little, you could be putting us all in the middle of a shitstorm.”

  Confused, Bobby asked, “Deal with what? What’d I miss?”

  Geo sighed. “I’ll tell you when you’re older, kid. Let’s get back to work.”

  *

  Drake managed to stay away from Kenna for another hour. Since she’d taken his key, he was forced to ask the front desk for a spare. He’d be damned if he’d stand in front of their room, knocking like a fool in the doghouse, knowing damn well she’d refuse to open the door.

  Inside the cool, dark room, he noticed the maid had come and gone. Everything appeared neat and tidy.

  His eyes narrowed. Too neat and tidy. No clothes strewn on the floor. No frou-frou female toiletries spread across every horizontal surface. No big bulky purse. No duffle bag. No sign of Kenna at all.

  His heart rate kicked double-time. Fury rose as he crossed the few feet to the bathroom door and pounded on it. “Kenna? You in there?”

  No answer.

  When he grabbed the doorknob, and twisted, he found it locked.

  “Keep your pants on,” she said irritably. “I’m almost done.”

  Relief swept through him like a calming breeze.

  He rested his forehead on the doorjamb. “No hurry.”

  While he waited, he dug out his own clothes, jeans, T-shirt, leather vest.

  He didn’t hear Kenna leave the bathroom. When he turned around and saw her, he about swallowed his tongue.

  Shiny red lips. Blonde wig. Blue contacts. Some tight pink leather contraption that bared her slender shoulders, showcased her tits and hugged her flat stomach. Next came a matching black leather miniskirt, which reached mid-thigh. No stockings. Just smooth, sexy, mouth-watering skin. She’d finished the ensemble with black and pink stilettos.

  “Jesus Christ,” he croaked.

  “You like?” She twirled, slowly.

  He groaned when he saw how the skirt accentuated the curve of her tight little ass. That outfit should be illegal. If he had his way, no one would ever see her dressed like that but him.

  Kenna dragged her duffle bag from the bathroom to the side of her bed. “How long before we have to leave?”

  Long enough for me to bang your brains out.

  Shit. Stop. It wasn’t helping the already tense situation. But the greedy male section of his brain didn’t give a rat’s ass. It was fascinated by the thought of those cherry lips leaving red lipstick stains down the length of his cock as he thrust in and out of her delectable mouth.

  “Drake?”

  “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “An hour. Give or take.”

  She snagged the room key from the table and shoved it in the purse that never left her possession. “I’ll go down to Geo and Bobby’s room and let you get dressed in private.”

  “Kenna—”

  But she’d scooted out the door before he could stop her.

  He sighed and called Geo. “She’s on her way. Have Bobby distract her while you tag her.”

  “Won’t she get suspicious?”

  “Not if you do it right.”
/>
  Geo laughed. “If she finds out she’s gonna kick your ass, boss.”

  Drake smirked when he thought of Kenna’s eyes, dark with fury and her sharp tongue. Oh yeah. If he got caught he had plenty of ways to help her work out her anger.

  “She’s welcome to try.”

  *

  Kenna’s heels clicked as she stormed down the sidewalk.

  Shouldn’t have surprised her that Drake preferred the slutty look. He’d certainly preferred her slutty behavior last night. He’d fucked her three times. And first thing this morning.

  Lord. What had she gotten herself into with this man? She stopped and rested her backside against the fake log siding, pressing her hand against her racing heart.

  He’d run a criminal background check on her roommate! No matter what he thought or his stupid report said, there was no way Shawnee would be involved in something like Diablo.

  But a niggling fear arose anyway. Why had Shawnee been in downtown Sturgis? What prompted Shawnee to leave Kenna such a cryptic message on their answering machine?

  Kenna would have to warn her. She quickly crossed to the pay phone, dropped in fifty cents and dialed her own number. When the answering machine kicked on, she left Shawnee a detailed message about what was going down. After she hung up, she blinked back tears. She wouldn’t blame Shawnee for being pissed and moving out. And it’d be Agent March’s fault.

  What had happened in twelve short hours? Drake had been so unbelievably tender when he’d made love to her this morning.

  But dammit, it hurt, his cool dismissal when she’d appeared in her normal clothes. As opposed to the raw hunger in his eyes when she looked like someone else.

  After all they’d shared last night he still didn’t trust her?

  Of course he didn’t.

  The truth blasted her like cold water. By his own admission it hadn’t been Drake March, DEA Agent in bed with her last night. But it appeared Agent March was back on duty today.

  Well she had news for him. It’d been Kaye Anne doing the mattress dancing with him last night, not Kenna. If he wanted to play the split personality game, take-no-shit Kenna was more than up for the challenge.

  Kenna rapped on the door. She sucked the disappointment down deep inside her soul, hoping it’d stay there so she could get through this night.

  Tall, dark and handsome Geo opened the door.

  God he was so gorgeous. And sweet. And thoughtful. Why couldn’t she have fallen for him instead of Drake?

  She pasted on a wide smile. “Hey, sugar, we ready to blow this joint?”

  “You bet. But first Bobby has something to show you.”

  *

  Drake stalked into the room ten minutes later, foul mood darkening the air around him like a shroud.

  Kenna knew he’d have no problems passing as a badass biker. Everything about him screamed danger; head to toe black clothing, long hair, angry sneer, gun, knife and handcuffs.

  She tried not to think about those damn handcuffs.

  Briefing done, he led them to a black van lettered with “Fred’s Repair Service.”

  “What’s this? Aren’t we going to the party on the Harley?”

  “No. For Geo and Bobby to do surveillance they’ll need this van to get through the gates since the campground is closed to everything but commercial vehicles and motorcycle traffic.”

  “So we’re gonna walk in?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see the shoes I’m wearing?”

  “Tough it up, hot stuff.” He gave her a “don’t-push-me” look. “I’ve got the bike parked at the campsite in case anyone asks how we got there.”

  “But—”

  “Get in the van, Kenna,” he growled.

  She stayed silent as they made last minute adjustments to the op. With the heavy traffic it took over an hour to reach the campground and entertainment complex. Once inside the gates Drake became more uptight, if possible.

  “You ready?” he asked, dropping his gun, knife, and handcuffs on the seat.

  “Yep.”

  “Tell me again what your objective is.”

  “Stay out of your way, sir.”

  His jaw tightened. “Wrong. You’re supposed to stick close and let me get the information I need.”

  Kenna shrugged. “Same difference.”

  The van bumped to a stop.

  “Big difference.”

  Before the argument escalated, Geo interrupted. “Here’s your exit point. Good luck.”

  After the van pulled away, Drake draped an arm over her shoulder and tugged her snugly to his side. Naturally, her body responded to the call of his.

  His hand caressed her bare arm. Warm breath tickled her ear. “So we don’t blow this, can you at least pretend to like me?”

  Kenna flashed her teeth at him. “I’ll try, but no guarantees.”

  Chapter Twelve

  They exchanged few words as they wound through the crowds of bikers.

  The freaks and exhibitionists were out in full force on the sultry night. Naked women wrestling in mud. Naked women wrestling in Jell-O. Naked women wrestling in vanilla pudding. A tough man contest with huge men beating the shit out of other huge men. The announcer’s minions mopped the blood off the floor of the boxing ring and the next bout began.

  Next to ringside was an open-air tent where twenty bucks bought a body shot from a beautiful young topless model from a leading men’s skin magazine.

  Drake wondered if some of those girls were even of age.

  Aromas of barbecued steak, pizza, bratwurst, tacos and buffalo burgers competed with the thick clouds of motorcycle exhaust mixed with dust and anticipation. Beer, whiskey, rum, tequila; name it and a specialty vendor sold it.

  Drake kept a firm grip on Kenna even when her back stayed stiff. She didn’t touch him more than was absolutely necessary. He’d like to push her and demand she tell him exactly what’d put the starch in her spine, but he had to stay focused on the job.

  Hard to do when several guys standing by the Porta-potties were openly enjoying hand jobs from a couple of enterprising young women.

  After skirting the vendor stands, they cut through the RV area until the big black tent loomed. Drake stopped to survey the landscape.

  A separate parking area had been corded off with red velvet ropes to house the custom motorcycles. He guessed most of the vividly colored machines with custom paint jobs—gas tanks, wheels and engines—were in the 100K range. Obviously the party attendees had money. His cynical side expected little of that money had been earned though an honest day’s work.

  Beefy guards roamed the perimeter, armed to the teeth. He’d left his Glock in the van with Geo and Bobby, hoping to present a less threatening persona. In case something went down, he had a beeper which would signal his partners for backup. Geo was someplace nearby, snapping pictures. They might get lucky and see some familiar faces from the Florida drug world. Especially since Tito Cortez was a known associate of Hector Valero, Jerry Travis’s former boss in Miami.

  Kenna sighed. “Are we going in?”

  “In a minute.” His arm slipped from her shoulder to the enticing curve of her waist and he spun her into his arms so he could hold her. “You okay?”

  It freaked him out to be staring into blue eyes instead of lavender.

  “I’ll be glad when this is over.”

  “Me too.” He pulled her closer yet, lacing his fingers together at the base of her spine. Pelvis to pelvis, with her warm, sweet scent filling his lungs, his cock began to stir.

  “Stick close to me, okay? I don’t need to worry about you while I’m trying to do my job.”

  “How do you plan to get close to Cortez?”

  “I’ve got my ways.” He gave her a hard look. “I want you to steer clear of him, understand?”

  “Yes, boss.” She wriggled out of his embrace and saluted.

  God. He briefly shut his eyes as he shoved a hand through his hair. “Kenna—”

  When his ey
es reopened all he saw was her very fine backside. Swishing hips and bouncing ass as her long legs ate up the distance toward the entrance.

  Stop her, his male side urged.

  Let her go , the cop side countered.

  Shit. He caught up with her as she reached the two bouncers blocking the makeshift doorway.

  One guy had to be at least six-foot-eight. Few men made Drake feel small. Defensively, he stood taller. The jerk didn’t even notice him as his rapt gaze was intensely focused on Kenna’s chest.

  “Name, sweetheart?”

  “Kenna Jones,” she cooed. “I sure hope Marissa remembered to have my name put on the list.”

  The gorilla-sized bouncer managed to tear his lewd gaze from her breasts long enough to flip through the papers on his clipboard. He glanced up and smiled lewdly. “Yep. You’re free to go in.” He nodded to the other bouncer, a squat ugly man who resembled Jabba the Hut. “Just as soon as we check you for weapons.”

  Kenna laughed nervously. “Are you kidding?”

  Gorilla-man shook his head.

  She spun around. “Tell me, where exactly do you think I’m hiding a gun in this outfit?”

  “Don’t matter. Standard procedure.”

  Drake withheld a growl. That bastard was using his security position as an excuse to put his paws on Kenna. He clenched his hands into fists and seethed as the second bouncer patted the outside of her legs up to her hips. Repeated the procedure on the inside. If Drake thought Kenna’s back had been straight before, it was absolutely rigid now.

  “Arms out,” Jabba said.

  Kenna complied, holding her purse in her left hand for him to check. The squat bouncer smoothed his thick palms across her bare arms. When he reached her chest he grinned, and leisurely dragged those stubby hands down her breasts, over her belly until he reached her hips. “She’s clean.”

  If Drake wasn’t worried about blowing his cover he’d have knocked the son-of-a-bitch on his ass, regardless if the guy outweighed him by a hundred pounds.

  Kenna shuddered and tidied her clothes.