Impulsively (Dante's Nine MC) (12 page)

“Wait,” I say, remembering something through my drunken, sexed-up
haze, “Brooks, I need my purse.”

“Jesus,” he groans, pivoting to snatch up my satchel, “accessories
on the brain, at a time like this? I’m just gonna have to pull out all the
stops with you.”

“You mean you haven’t already?” I ask, grabbing the bag from
Brooks as he bears me back to the bonfire.

“You have no idea what you’re in for with me,” he growls, “but
you’ll find out soon enough. Brace yourself, babe.”

I don’t even bother trying to come up with a response to
that. I give in to the insane, delicious moment, and swear to let the night
take me where it will. And as we approach the rollicking chaos of the party
once again, I admit—I’m coming around to this undercover thing. In a
big
way.

Warm sunlight plays across my cheek as my fuzzy brain drifts
lazily back to consciousness. I keep my eyes closed tightly, granting myself a
few more moments of sleep. No need to rush, especially when my brain seems to
have been soaked in a barrel of whiskey.

I press into the huge, sculpted body beside me in bed,
savoring the feel of bare skin against me. Two thick arms are wrapped around my
slender body, and a scruff cheek presses against my own. Vaguely, I notice a
firm hand cupping my breast. It’s a protective, not an aggressive gesture. But
when I let my eyes flutter open to investigate, a strangled yelp escapes my
throat.

“What the—where—?!” I cry out, sitting bolt upright in bed.
Not my bed, thank you very much. A bed I’ve never seen before. In a room I’ve
never seen before. I whip around to examine my unexpected bedmate.

Now
him
I’ve seen before.

“Morning, Red,” Brooks smiles sleepily, eyes barely open in
the early sunlight. “Slept well, I take it?”

I leap out of bed, staring at the shirtless god before me. I
have no recollection of falling asleep beside him last night. I run my hands
all over my body, and find that I seem to be fully clothed. Well, as fully
clothed as I ever was last night.

“Brooks,” I say, forcing myself to be calm, “where the hell
are we?”

“We’re at the clubhouse,” he shrugs, rolling onto his back,
“enjoying a good night’s sleep. Or we were. Come back to bed, babe. It’s cool
that we’re using this room.”

“Cool is not the word I’d use,” I hiss back, shoving my
fingers through my hair. “I totally blacked out last night.”

“Yeah you did,” he laughs, shaking his head, “You party
hard. I appreciate that in a woman. Relax, would you? We had a great time.”

“How great of a time?” I demand, terrified of his answer.

“What do you mean, how...?” he trails off, spotting the
anxious look on my face. “Are you asking...if we fucked?”

“To cut to the chase, yes,” I reply.

Brooks stares at me, his brows furrowed with indignation.
“Do you honestly think I would fuck a girl after she blacked out?” he demands.
“What kind of a sick fuck do you think I am, Red?”

His anger makes me take a step back. “I...I don’t know...” I
say. “Things were getting pretty hot between us—”

“Yeah, they were,” he says, throwing off the covers and
rising to his feet, “And then you had a few too many drinks, and I decided to
look after you for the rest of the night. I mean, I could have left you out in
the bar to get carted off by any old boozed up brother. Would you have
preferred that?”

“Of course not,” I mutter, feeling embarrassment rising in
my cheeks, “I shouldn’t have assumed that—”

“Damn right you shouldn’t have assumed,” Brooks spits,
stepping up to me. His tapered, finely tuned torso is close enough to touch,
but I don’t dare. He’s furious that I thought the worst of him, it’s odd to see
him so offended. For the first time since meeting Brooks, I’m actually scared
of what he might do.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe, looking up at those fierce green
eyes, “I hardly know you, Brooks. I was taken off guard by waking up here.
There are a lot of assholes in the world who wouldn’t have stopped last night
just because—”

“I’m a lot of things, Keira,” he growls, towering over me.
“I’m a loner. I’m an outlaw. Some would even call me a criminal. But I am not
one of
those assholes
.”

I stare up at him, moved by his vehemence. “I believe you,”
I whisper.

“You’d better,” he says, squaring his shoulders. “I live by
a code, Keira. We all do, around here. I said I’d protect you from the rest of
the guys, and I will. You’re my girl now. You’re safe with me.”

“I know,” I breathe, resting my hands on the inked panes of
his chest.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to have you every which
way just as soon as I can,” he goes on, grabbing me by the hips. Even in the
light of day, he can turn me on in a heartbeat. All I want is to let my hands
skirt down across his cut abs, down to that perfect length I’ve dreamt about...

But duty calls.

“I know this is kind of lame, but...I have to go to work,
Brooks,” I laugh lightly, “And so do you.”

“Work can wait,” he says, lowering his lips to the crook of
my neck. “I’ll give you a lift back to the penthouse. Just as soon as I’ve
fucked you dirty...”

A groan of want builds in my throat. I’ve never wanted
anyone like this before. Never craved someone’s touch like it was a drug. But
just like a drug, I know Brooks’ touch will get me hooked, and fast. I have to
keep this physical. Fleeting. The case depends on it. I force myself to think
of the case, of my job, as I slip out of Brooks’ embrace.

“Soon,” I breathe, pulling my hair into a messy bun. I try
and ignore the throbbing between my legs, but it’s no use. I’ll be jonesing for
Brooks all day.

“Fine,” he says, gritting his teeth. I can see his manhood
pressing through his jeans, stiff and ready. For me. “But soon can’t come soon
enough.”

“You’re telling me,” I mutter.

By some herculean effort, I manage to tear my eyes away from
his carved face, his amazingly balanced body, the scrawls of ink and dark brown
curls. I gather my things, relieved that I at least remembered my purse—and
gun—through last night’s shenanigans. For good measure, I snatch up a tee shirt
of Brooks’ as well. My sexy party outfit won’t quite cut it in the light of
day.

I don’t even dare to steal one last kiss from Brooks before
squaring my shoulders and preparing myself for the most epic walk of shame in
the history of the world.

Chapter
Nine

As I step out of the taxi and hurry into the FBI field
office, I hold my head up high and ignore the stares of my new coworkers. There
was no time to stop off home before coming in to work, so the entire office
gets to see my take on morning-after chic. My black skinny jeans, sky high
stilettos, and smudged makeup leave very little to the imagination, as far as
what I got up to last night. Thank god I’ve at least got Brooks’ tee shirt
draped over my crop top. I try to ignore how even the lingering smell of him
gets me worked up. The last thing I need is to spend the morning fantasizing
about my bad-boy-almost-lover.

Yeah
right,
I think to myself,
as
if I have a choice about that...

“Good morning boys,” I say brightly, stepping into the
conference room where Mitchell and Bruno are waiting.

The men glance up and gape unabashedly. Bruno bursts out
into unkind, uproarious laughter while Mitchell simply cocks his head, taking
me in.

“Rough night, Collins?” my boss asks.

“Productive night,” I reply with a confident smile.

“With that getup, I bet it was more
re
productive than anything else, am I right?”
Bruno cackles meanly.

“Clever,” I drawl, rolling my eyes, “And wrong. But thanks
for playing, Bruno. I spent the night partying at the Forty-Five Club, with the
entirety of Dante’s Nine
and
the Las Vegas Devil’s Wraiths.”

Bruno’s laughter cuts off with a strangled, indignant sound
as Mitchell’s face lights up with a pleased grin.

“Seriously, Collins?” Mitchell asks, “You got access to the
Dante’s Nine clubhouse?”

“Sure did,” I say, crossing my arms. “The clubs were having
a welcome bash for the newest member of the MC. All seventeen brothers were in
attendance, plus the old ladies I’ve been working with. And a few sweet butts,
to boot. They brought me along after we finished up with the website for the
day.”

“So you know who the ninth member is, then?” Mitchell asks
excitedly.

“Wh-what?” I stammer, caught off guard.

“The newest guy of Dante’s Nine. Who is he?” my boss
presses, nodding at the blank space among the club’s roster hanging on the
wall.

“Oh. Uh. His name is Brooks. Caleb Brooks,” I say, trying to
keep my voice light. Why does it feel like such a betrayal, speaking his name
in this building? If Brooks and the others are innocent, then no harm will come
from my relaying this information. Right?

“Excellent work, Collins,” Mitchell says, clapping me on the
shoulder. “It was risky, going in there without giving us a heads up. But you
took a chance and came back with some great information. It was never the plan
to have you working outside of CrowdedNest, but I think we should reevaluate
that—”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Bruno growls from across the
room. His face is turning bright red, and his meaty hands are balled into
fists.

“What’s the problem, Bruno?” Mitchell sighs.

“The problem is that she’s a rookie,” Bruno spits. “She’s
going to come traipsing into my part of the investigation and fuck everything
up.”

“Last night was a success,” I remind him, raising an
eyebrow. “What, are you above having another agent help you—?”

“Last night was beginners luck,” he says, waving away my
assertions. “You’re not ready for this, Collins. You have no idea what you’re
doing. I’ve been working on this investigation for months. Operation Inferno is
my
case.”

“
Our
case,” I correct him.

“Like hell,” he growls.

“Enough,” Mitchell says, cutting us both off, “quit
squabbling, would you? Quinn, proceed carefully with your part of the
investigation. If there’s another opportunity to spend time at the Forty-Five
Club, go ahead and take it. Keep gathering information as it comes to you, but
make investigating CrowdedNest your priority.”

“Got it,” I smile.

“And Bruno,” Mitchell goes on, “Your investigation has been
focused on the Devil’s Playpen, not the Forty-Five Club. You should still have
plenty of room to do things your way around the Wraiths’ compound. Keep your
focus on the porn company, keep trying to get information from the girls.
That’s where the bulk of the tips have been coming from, after all.”

Bruno nods his head, once. His anger doesn’t seem at all
abated, just swallowed. He’s pissed as hell that I dared to take one step
toward “his turf”. Seems like a counterproductive attitude to me. If my getting
access to Dante’s Nine helps the case, shouldn’t he be thrilled that I’m making
progress? His swollen ego is preventing him from seeing what an asset I could
be to this investigation. I’ll just have to go ahead and prove how valuable I
can be.

“Keep up the good work, both of you,” Mitchell concludes, “I
can feel us getting closer to a break here. In a couple weeks’ time, we could
be pressing charges and saying goodbye to these clubs forever.”

“A couple weeks?” I ask, taken aback. “That’s it?”

“That’s my timeline,” Mitchell confirms, “Shouldn’t take
longer than that to turn up any dirt, if there’s dirt to be found. If we can’t
find anything to nail these guys on after another two weeks, we’ll need to back
off and reevaluate. So get cracking, both of you. No time to waste.”

Bruno and I turn to go in unison. The bull of a man charges
past me through the office door, but this time I hold my ground. I’m through
letting him bully me. We’re both federal agents, after all. He’s not entitled
to any more respect because he happens to be a man, or because he has a couple
of decades on me. We were both brought onto this case for a reason—because we
could do good work. And that’s just what I intend to do.