Impulsively (Dante's Nine MC) (18 page)

I steal a glance at my man’s sleeping face. His hard,
sculpted features are softened by slumber and stillness. Gently, so as not to
wake him, I brush my fingers against his sharp jaw, his perfectly full lips,
the scar bisecting his brow. I have yet to tell Brooks just how hard I’ve
fallen for him. How could I? For all I know, I could be ripped out of this
entire life in less than a week. No use letting him get any more attached than
he has to.

Slipping out from under his thickly muscled arm, I throw on
yesterday’s clothes and steal out into the day. I ease the penthouse door shut
behind me and summon the elevator to the top floor. Just as the car arrives,
the door marked “A” swings open, and Kassie steps out into the hallway. She’s
dressed in stylish gym clothes, her long blonde hair drawn into a high ponytail
and she looks pleasantly surprised as she spots me in the hallway.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she chuckles, giving me a hug.

I wrap my arms around her, grateful for the comforting
touch. “Just heading back to my place for a shower,” I fib.

“At this point, you should probably just move in here,” she
says, as we step into the elevator, “You’ve slept here almost every night this
weekend. I take it things are going well with the newest of the Nine?”

“Very well,” I allow, leaning back against the elevator
wall.

“You don’t seem entirely thrilled about that,” Kassie
observes, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Is everything alright between
you and Brooks?”

“Everything is amazing with him,” I sigh. “I just...my
history is a little...complicated.”

“I know how that goes,” she says, a swell of sadness
darkening her eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, we’re all a little bit
fucked up around here. Brooks included.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“You’ll have to ask him that question,” she replies. “I
don’t want to get in the middle of you two. But there’s more to him than you
might expect.”

“No...I could have guessed that,” I say. “Maybe that’s why
we understand each other.”

“If you ever want to talk to someone,” Kassie says, brushing
my shoulder, “you know that I’m here, right?”

“I do,” I smile sadly. I wish I could be as good a friend to
her as she’s trying to be to me. “Thanks, Kassie.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says, as we step into the lobby,
“That’s what friends are for.”

Kassie heads off to the gym as I slide into my Mustang,
which I’ve finally started driving around between here and the clubhouse. To my
delight, my ride has impressed some of the MC brothers, even if it is
technically a “cage”, as they would say.

My mind wheels wildly as I start the car and take off toward
the field office. What could Kassie know about Brooks that I don’t? What
secrets darken his past and present? I certainly don’t hold it against him, his
not telling me. Our relationship resides strictly in the present, after all.
Still, I can’t help but be curious.

“All in time, if ever,” I mutter to myself, guiding my
Mustang through the Las Vegas streets. I set the thought aside and wrangle my
focus back to the task at hand—figuring out how to make things right with Bruno
for the duration of this case. Something tells me that my fellow agent is not
going to make that easy for me.

I pause outside the conference room door, steeling myself
against Bruno’s inevitable wrath. It’s time to face the music, at last. I can
hear Mitchell and Bruno speaking in hushed, excited voices behind the door.
Taking a deep breath, I turn the handle and step into the room to join them.

“Hey, Collins,” Mitchell says merrily, “Good to have you
here in the flesh again.”

“Thanks Mitchell,” I reply, my eyes fixed on the back of
Bruno’s head. He’s turned away from me, surveying the wall of intelligence. He
doesn’t turn to welcome me, but he doesn’t jump down my throat, either. I
haven’t mentioned to Mitchell yet that I’ve swung by the Devil’s Playpen. But
has Bruno said anything about our encounter there?

“Anything to report from the front lines?” Mitchell asks,
sitting on the edge of the conference table. “How’s your lover boy doing?”

“Everything’s pretty much the same,” I say carefully. “Nothing
new to report.”

“So it goes,” Mitchell shrugs, turning back to the arrayed
information. He says nothing about my stepping on Bruno’s toes at the Playpen.
Surely that means Bruno’s kept the incident to himself. Of course,
I
would rather Mitchell not
know about my transgression, but I’d imagine that Bruno would want to rat me
out as soon as possible. What the hell gives?

“If you don’t have any new intel at the moment, you should
feel free to work from home,” Mitchell says over his shoulder. “I take your
word that nothing’s turned up in the CrowdedNest data, but there’s no harm in
going over it again. Things may be heating up on Bruno’s side of the case, so
I’d like to concentrate on that as much as possible. Sorry to say, but we may
have sent you on a wild goose chase with the old ladies.”

“Well, maybe I can help out with the other areas of the
investigation,” I venture.

“That won’t be necessary,” Bruno says, addressing me at
last. He turns to look at me, his face eerily composed. “I’d prefer to work my
angle alone, Collins.”

“I see...” I say slowly, trying to get a read on his mood.
The fury I saw in him that night at the Devil’s Playpen is nowhere to be seen
now. Maybe he didn’t actually recognize me that night, after all?

“You really should get back to work sifting through the
CrowdedNest intel,” Bruno goes on, crossing the room to me. Though his body
looks relaxed, his calm demeanor intimidates me all the same. It’s too
controlled, and far too uncharacteristic, to be sincere. “I’d rather use the
office to work alone.”

“I’m sure Agent Collins won’t mind leaving us to it,”
Mitchell says amiably, “Will you, Collins?”

“Not at all, if you’re sure you don’t need me here,” I say,
taken aback.

“We’ve got it under control,” Bruno smiles, “In fact, we may
be able to send you back to San Bernardino even sooner than we anticipated.”

I cock an eyebrow at the bullish man. Whatever lead he’s
turned up at the Playpen must be pretty solid if he’s this comfortable calling
the shots all of a sudden. Has he found something serious on the guys? Panic
begins to build in my core at the thought of what he might have on the Wraiths.
Unaccountably, I find myself wishing that he’d come up empty in his
investigation.

“Whatever you guys think is best,” I say slowly.

“Thanks for understanding, Collins,” Mitchell says, “Hang
tight and wait to hear from us about what we need from you going forward. Your
involvement with Operation Inferno may be coming to an end, but I hope you
don’t feel that your time has been wasted.”

I stare at Mitchell. Is he really just going to let me go?

“Not at all,” I reply, turning to go, “just keep me posted
as things develop.”

“Let me walk you out,” Bruno says, following me out the
door. His cheerful tone is entirely off-putting. I don’t feel good about this
turn of events. Not a bit.

But still, I let him accompany me. As we move through the
bustling office, he lays a meaty hand between my shoulder blades. I shudder at
the sudden contact, but Bruno doesn’t flinch. Instead, I feel his fingers creep
up the back of my neck, his grip tightening just enough to be disconcerting. My
stomach tightens with every step we take. Something is very off, here. But how
to find out what without catching hell for showing up at the Devil’s Playpen?

We step into the elevator together, and ride to the ground
floor in utter silence. I breathe a sigh of relief as Bruno removes his hand
from my back. But my dread is redoubled as we head out into the parking lot
together. Away from the prying eyes of our coworkers, I watch as Bruno’s face
transforms entirely. His features crumple into a mask of rage and contempt, and
his thick fingers close around my upper arm like a vice.

“Get your hands off me, Bruno,” I spit, as he drags me
across the lot. The hard sun beats down on us as he pulls us into the space
between two parked trucks. We’re totally shrouded, hidden from the rest of the
world.

“Gladly,” he snarls, slamming me up against the side of an
armored truck. My head slams into the unforgiving surface, and bright sunbursts
of pain light up my vision.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Bruno?” I hiss,
shoving at his burly chest, “I get it. You’re pissed that I showed up on your
turf. That doesn’t give you the right to manhandle me, you prick.”

“You’re right,” he sneers, planting his hands against the
truck on either side of my body, “If I had my druthers, I’d be beating you to a
bloody pulp instead. But you know how it is at the Bureau. Too much red tape
when it comes to assaulting a fellow agent.”

“Are you out of your mind?” I breathe, staring up at him
incredulously, “You just threatened me—”

“No,” he cuts me off, jamming a finger into my chest, “
This
is a threat: Stay the
hell away from my investigation, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Excuse me...?” I say, my voice low and ragged.

“You heard me, you prissy little bitch,” Bruno spits. “I saw
you at the Playpen, hanging all over your pet monster. I’ve been working on
this case for months. I’m this close to taking these assholes down for good.
And you’re off playing house with a fucking criminal. You could derail
everything. I’m giving you fair warning to step the fuck off. Go home, fiddle
around on your computer, and report back that you have nothing more to
contribute to this case. Pack up your things, kiss your grimy boyfriend
goodbye, and go back to California.”

“But I’m not through with my part of the case,” I tell him,
“And once I tell Mitchell about this, he’ll—”

“You won’t breathe a word of this to Mitchell,” Bruno
growls, catching my throat in his hand. I gasp for air as he tightens his
fingers around my windpipe. His breath is stale, his red face maniacal and
swollen. “Make no mistake, little girl. I will snap your goddamn neck if you
fuck this up for me. In fact, it would be a pleasure. Don’t. Push. Me.”

He shoves me roughly away, and I scramble to put distance
between us. “Or what?” I sputter, clutching my throat. “Don’t push you
or what?
”

“Knowing that I’ll hunt you down and kill you isn’t enough?”
he laughs cruelly. “Fine. You don’t say a word about this to anyone, or I make
sure that your man and all his friends get shipped off to prison. I’m sure it
wouldn’t be too hard to pay off a few thugs on the inside...I could have them
kill off every single member of Dante’s Nine
and
the Devil’s Wraiths the second they set foot behind bars. I have friends in
very low places, Collins.”

“What the hell do you expect me to do with this, Bruno?” I
breathe, staring at the maniac before me.

“Run, girlie,” he barks. “Run fast. Run far. Or you’re
through.”

He turns on his heel and marches away from me, whistling a
happy tune as he disappears back into the FBI field office. I stare after
Bruno, my chest heaving. My entire world has been knocked off kilter, every organizing
point demolished by this act of violence.

On shaky legs, I make my way back to my beloved Mustang. I
slip into the driver’s seat and burst into baffled, furious tears. I feel more
helpless than I have since the day Brandon was killed, and just as confused.
Good and bad, wrong and right, law and outlaw...no single binary makes sense
anymore. I have no idea where I stand.

The only thing I know is that I need to get to a safe place.
I need to protect myself, figure out my next move. With barely contained panic
coursing through me, I head back to my barren apartment. Or rather, my foxhole.

Hey Red. Heading to the 45
club. Need a lift?