by KB Winters
Jag stayed silent for the entire ride back to his place, which was a long ride, because it wasn’t on the Vegas side of Mayhem. He killed the engine and stepped off his bike silently, holding my hand with a gentle kind of intensity I didn’t know how to take. Not with my head so fuzzy and my body so achy.
We walked up to the front door and slowly went inside.
Jag undressed me, giving me a moment to look around the room while he went to start the water in the tub. I’d spent hours in this room, too distracted with his naked body to take in the dark, masculine details. The room was two shades of green with cherry furniture. Stylish but not fussy, exactly like the man who occupied it.
“Come on.” He took my hand and pulled me into the bathroom where the tub was almost full with steaming, scented water. “Get in. It’ll help with your pain.”
I wanted to, but my senses were tingling, telling me to proceed with caution. “What’s the catch?”
He rolled his eyes and pushed me toward the tub, tapping one leg to get me to lift it. “I can lift you and put you in if you’d prefer.”
I would prefer dammit, but not now. I stepped in and sank into the water with a moan. It was perfectly hot and smelled faintly of Jag. “Are you going to join me?”
“Not yet. First I want you to tell me what you haven’t told me yet.”
And there it was.
The trap.
Chapter Nine
Jag
This was the first time since I became a Reckless Bastard that the club didn’t have my full attention. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that someone had run Vivi off the fucking road. Still, Cross was talking and he was my Prez. I needed to fucking listen.
“Stitch has been on ID duty at one of the dispensaries and he’s spotted a couple guys who look like feds hanging around. Anyone have any idea why?” Cross’s blue gaze looked around the table, assessing each of us to see why the club might face another threat. His gaze landed on me, a question burning in the depths.
“This shit can’t be placed at my door.” That was serious. Of all the Reckless Bastards I was the squeakiest fucking clean. I didn’t fuck the Reckless Bitches and I didn’t get serious about women, which meant my personal shit never touched the club. Until now. Maybe.
“So this has nothing to do with the blue haired babe who came looking for you the other night?”
I couldn’t definitively say it had nothing to do with Vivi, but I was pretty sure. “Probably not. Stitch. When did these suits first start showing up?”
“About a month ago, maybe six weeks. They’ve been around more in the last two weeks, though.” Which meant well before Vivi reentered my life.
“Yeah, Vivi came because she needs my help but it’s sensitive. Highly sensitive, Cross. I’m not keeping secrets.” Cross nodded his acceptance, for now. But I wasn’t foolish enough to think he’d stay that way forever.
“Fuck that,” Savior spat out. “Just cut the shit and tell us what kind of trouble your girl is about to bring to our fucking door.”
I glared at his fucking tone. “First of all, she’s not my girl. She’s a friend. Second, are we really about to pretend that half the guys at this table didn’t have a woman bringing trouble in some form or another to our fucking door?” My gaze started with Savior, who had some nerve since he’d been involved in a fucking shootout in the middle of a casino, but Max, Golden Boy and Lasso all got looks from me as well.
“Not your girl? Then why the fuck are we even discussing this?” Savior spat out angrily. Again. He really needed to chill.
“Was Mandy your old lady when she came here? And wasn’t it her who started this shit with Roadkill in the first place?” It was a low blow and I didn’t blame her, but Savior’s attitude was pissing me off.
“That’s enough, Jag,” Savior protested.
“Is it?” I stood, daring him to get in my face. Savior was crazy but I was a skilled fucking killer with more than a little crazy of my own.
“Stop!” Cross’s voice cut through the macho bullshit, eyes blazing at us both. “What can you tell us?”
“She saw something she probably shouldn’t have when she did some contract work for Uncle Sam and now she thinks someone with juice is after her.” And after yesterday even I couldn’t dismiss her concerns.
“Thinks?” Gunnar guffaws. “Tell this chick to hit the road. The last thing we need is any government bullshit blowing back on us.” My hands balled into fists at his words but I gave Gunnar a break because I knew he had a lot of shit on his plate with a one-year old sister now in his care. Visits from a social worker were stressing him out so I let it go. For now.
I glared at my friend though to let him know he was on dangerous ground. “Since someone ran her off the road yesterday and she found a tracker on her bike, I’d say it’s a bit more than a fucking hunch at this point. The bike is fucking totaled.” Just thinking about those assholes pissed me off and the way Vivi played it off like it was no big deal pissed me off even more.
I hated that her life had been so hard that she felt so alone. But that was probably partially my fault too. Gunnar nodded, his eyes holding a hint of an apology. “Why didn’t she bring the bike to me? Too good for a bunch of greasy bikers?”
“What the fuck is your problem?” Lasso snarled the question at him. “Don’t be an asshole, Gunnar.”
Gunnar shrugged, unapologetic.
“It’s fine, Lasso,” I told him. “She found a tracker like I said and instead of disabling it, she put it on an old police cruiser. She didn’t want it traced back to the club if, by some chance, they made a connection between her and me.” It was unlikely, but this was the U.S. government we were talking about. Shady as fuck.
“How exactly do you know her?” Golden Boy asked the question but there was no malice in it. “Because I’ve never heard you mention her.”
I sighed and prepared myself for the bullshit that was about to ensue. “We met online as kids, became good friends and traded hacking tips. She was my best friend until Mom died.”
They were all silent for several beats before the room erupted in laughter and jokes. “The only guy to really have a girlfriend in another town,” Max guffawed.
“Aww, an online girlfriend!” Stitch grinned wide. “Did you guys do it in bits and bytes?”
“Very funny asshole.” They kept it up for a few minutes and I let them because it was all in good fun and I really didn’t care.
“All right. If we have no more actual business to discuss, this meeting is adjourned.” We all stood and started to filter out of the room, but I stayed because I owed Cross more.
He looked up from his phone. “You have more to say?”
I nodded and closed the door, giving Cross a quick but vague rundown of the situation with the Governor. “She seems pretty sure it’s this governor and given his political aspirations and the illegal aspect of his relationship, I’m inclined to agree. But I think there’s another option she hasn’t told me about.”
He frowned. “Why? I thought you were friends.”
“We are. But I lost my shit after my mom died and cut myself off from everyone, even Vivi. But I do know her and she’s a terrible fucking liar. She’s afraid and not sure if she can trust us—or me—but she will.”
Cross nodded. “How is she doing?”
“Stubborn as hell,” I told him with a smile, thinking about my terrible little patient. “Bruised and banged up and mad as hell about it. She’s ready to destroy everyone involved.”
Cross laughed. “You’re gonna have your hands full.”
“Looks like.” And honestly, I had no worried worries about it. I could handle Vivi just fine.
“So that’s it, huh? She’s the kind of girl who grabs your attention?”
It was true that I didn’t pay much attention to women unless I was in the mood to fuck. I didn’t do relationships, so I understood his surprise. “Believe it or not, I never knew what she looked like until she showed up here. She w
ouldn’t meet me back when we were kids.”
“That’s not what I mean. I always thought you’d go for the sweet, docile type. Like a schoolteacher or something but Vivi looks a touch tough and badass. Like way more woman than I thought you’d ever want.”
“You saw those legs, right?” His grin matched my own as I thought about those long legs wrapped around me while I fucked her all over my bedroom. That was two days ago. Too fucking long.
“I’ll see what else I can find out. With her help I’ll find out what the fuck is up with those Feds and Roadkill too.”
Cross looked shocked by my words but he only nodded. “Good. Keep me in the loop and I’ll have a chat with Savior.”
“Don’t bother.” I didn’t give a shit. Not with Vivi waiting at home for me. “Later.”
Chapter Ten
Vivi
Another day had come and gone holed up at Jag’s and still no fucking word from Bob. I was officially beyond pissed off and secretly hoping that the reason she hadn’t called back yet was because she couldn’t. Permanently couldn’t. Not that I wanted any harm to come to Bob, I just wanted to come up with a reason for her radio silence. On top of all that, I couldn’t even peek inside my apartment since all the cameras had been removed. By the damn police who wouldn’t stop calling me.
After two days of nonstop calls, I picked up angrily. “Yes, Detective, I am very much alive and well and I’d like to stay that way.”
“Do you have any idea who could be behind this, Ms. Montgomery?”
Not any answer he would believe. “Not a clue, so if you could find out who the fuck ran me off the road, I’ll donate a thousand bucks to the Police Foundation.” That came dangerously close to bribing an official, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
The detective sighed. “Ma’am we can’t keep you safe if we don’t know where you are.”
“You can’t keep me safe anyway, Detective. But I can keep me safe until you find this psycho. I promise to keep you updated regularly.”
He waited a beat and when the detective spoke, there was resignation in his voice. “Fine. You can reach me at—”
“I’ll have no problem finding you,” I told him and ended the call quickly. The last thing I needed was someone else on Governor Blaise’s payroll able to find me. Then again, with that tracker they knew I was in or near Vegas.
Done with one set of lawmen, I turned my attention to another duo, specifically the two federal agents from the photos. I already knew they were Agents Ryan and Hewitt and in less than an hour I had their home and cell phone numbers, personal and work email addresses and all kinds of other personal information that two members of law enforcement should know better than to make it so easy. Lucky for them, I just wanted information, not to ruin their lives.
Not yet, anyway.
Armed with things like wives’ birthdays and anniversaries it took me no time at all to pull up phone records, which was where I struck gold. Or at least gold plated. Two phone numbers appeared too frequently to be a stranger but not nearly enough to be a mistress. And the most fucked up part of all? Both numbers had Nevada area codes and a quick reverse number search produced one result. Vigo Rizzoli, a name that meant nothing at all to me but gave me another string to start pulling. “Got it!” The other number belonged to Roadkill MC, a motorcycle club located in the heart of Las Vegas.
That definitely was not a fucking coincidence, and further digging showed that Vigo Rizzoli wasn’t just a member of the club, he was the goddamn VP. Those familiar tingles that had helped me avoid real danger my whole life, began at my toes and quickly worked their way up. A picture was forming in my mind, but I couldn’t see all of it. But the deeper I dug into Roadkill, the more shit I found I didn’t want to know—coke, heroin, underage girls, guns and even contract killings. And the more I found out, the more I began to think that coming to Vegas—to Jag—might have been my biggest mistake of all.
The online police blotters for both Mayhem and Las Vegas proper revealed a longstanding feud between Roadkill and the Reckless Bastards, with group arrests going back years and years. I didn’t know what it meant, yet, but I would.
I hoped.
Doubts began to creep in and I couldn’t stop them. Doubts about whether or not I could trust Jag. He was in a club. They were also a club. What if both clubs did business together and giving him this bit of information only put me in more trouble? I trusted Jag, or at least I thought I did. For now I would keep it to myself.
“Hey. How are you feeling?”
Jag’s voice startled me and pulled me from my thoughts. I slammed my laptop shut and looked at him with a blank expression. “Fine. It’s not like I’m a delicate flower or anything.”
He rolled his eyes but the smile that pulled his lush lips up at the corner made my pussy clench. Damn stupid lady hormones. “Good. Let’s go.”
“Where?” I stayed where I was with my arms crossed, waiting for more details.
“Just come on. And grab your helmet.” Damn stubborn man just walked off but not before I saw the smirk on his face. He was enjoying bossing me around.
“You’re lucky you look good walking away or else I would’ve thrown something at your head.” His laughter sounded but he didn’t respond. I didn’t mind; he had a really nice ass. “My bike is totaled,” I reminded him when we got to the garage.
His mouth pulled to one side in a smirk. “Then I guess you better hold on tight.” I should have tossed my helmet at him but the sight of Jag, all big and strong as he started the motorcycle engine, had my body responding and suddenly I couldn’t wait to wrap my arms around him.
I held on tight as he let the engine roar, zooming down the road and weaving through traffic. When he soared around the curves, dipping low to one side, I held on even tighter. His body was hard and his male potency combined with the engine between my thighs, had my pussy pulsing and my nipples tingling beneath my leather jacket. We stopped in a strip mall parking lot and I slid off, feeling that familiar sensation as my legs readjusted to solid ground again. “What are we doing here?”
He pointed to a sign over a shop that said Green Mayhem. “Gotta fix some computer shit real quick.”
“Real quick for real?” He smiled and nodded before disappearing inside, leaving me alone and leaning against the wall while I stared at the bike. I looked around at the dispensary and it looked just like what I’d seen in Colorado and Washington, in a long row of other businesses that sold everything from power tools to prom dresses, yarn and sneakers.
But across the street my gaze drifted over something that gave me pause. A big ass, look-at-me bright red extended cab pickup. Nevada had a lot of fucking trucks, probably more red ones than any other color but I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Something told me I should get closer, get the plate so I could run it later, and my feet were already moving in that direction. If I could just get close enough.
“You should watch the company you keep.” I didn’t recognize the voice, clearly male and angry for some reason. I looked to my right to find a skinny asshole with long blond hair standing about five feet away from me.
Too damn close for my comfort. “And you should mind your own fucking business.” I slid one hand down my hip and around to my back pocket and looped my thumb through the hook. A smile crossed my face as it always did when I got an opportunity to use my knife knuckles.
He took a step forward, his face marred with a dark anger I’d seen before. Men who didn’t like mouthy women. “And you better watch how you speak to me, bitch.” He got in my face and gave me exactly what I was looking for.
A chance to go crazy. The blade was out of my pocket in half a second with my fingers pushed through the holes, the cool metal of the knife pressed against his skin. I had at least two inches on him and pressed my knee between his legs, daring him to move. “You were saying, limp dick?”
His eyes, green I realized, went wide. Big as saucers as they stared into my smiling face.
“You’re crazy.”
“Oh, you have no fucking idea how crazy,” I told him with a wild laugh. “But let’s talk about you, Limp Dick. Who the fuck do you think you are, telling me who I should spend my time with? What business is it of yours?”
“I-it’s not. Get off me you crazy bitch!” He let out a gurgle when I applied just a bit more pressure that made me laugh.
“You really ought to watch that mouth of yours. Show a little respect before someone washes your mouth out with soap.” I was having too much fun with this clown. “Better yet, maybe someone ought to cut out your tongue.”
“Vivi, what the fuck?” Jag. Here to ruin my fun.
“Crazy bitch,” the blond said again and shoved me since I was distracted. Not too distracted to land a blow to his right cheek that sent him to his knees.
“Next time I’ll bring soap.” I laughed as he scrambled away, looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Keep your bitch in check, Jag!”
“Fuck off, Carter, before I let her have her way with you.” Jag’s face was twisted in an anger I’d never seen before, even as he was trying to push me behind him. Protective jerk.
“Watch yourself, bitch.”
I laughed. “Go home and change your shitty drawers, pussy!” Another laugh bubbled up out of me at the absurdness of the past five minutes until I was doubled over and tearing up from laughter.
Jag bent down so we were face to face, one brow arched in a what the fuck expression. “Can’t take you anywhere.”
“Apparently not. That was fun, though.”
“He might be right. You are crazy.”
“Just a teensy bit,” I told him, thumb and forefinger just a few millimeters apart.
He flashed another one of those panty incinerating smiles and hooked an arm around my waist. “Come on, Bruiser. We have an appointment to keep.”
“We do?” The irritating man stayed silent on the way to wherever we were going, not uttering one word until he came to a stop in front of a very nice two-story family home in a gated subdivision.
