Impulsively (Dante's Nine MC) (19 page)

I stare at the text from Brooks, my knees pulled into my
chest. I’ve been sitting on my borrowed bed, all alone in the drab FBI
apartment, for hours. Every cell in my body is crying to spring into action,
but I’m paralyzed with indecision. This morning’s events have left me totally
at a loss.

At the FBI Academy in Quantico, I was trained to defend
myself against those who would do me harm. But I never expected the threat of
harm to come from another federal agent. I joined the FBI because, in my mind,
the feds were the good guys. Fighting the righteous fight out on the streets to
protect people like my little brother. But after everything I’ve seen this
week, and Bruno’s behavior today, I’m starting to see things in a whole new
light.

Never before has the idea of going rouge occurred to me,
during this operation. I’ve been assuming, this whole time, that I would put in
an effort, dig up some intelligence on Kassie and Kelly, and head back to San
Bernardino. I’m supposed to do my job and keep my mouth shut...but for what?
For the sake of an organization that harbors lunatics like Bruno in its ranks?

I shudder, despite the warm night air wafting in through my
cracked window. Bruno’s furious face looms before me each and every time I
close my eyes. His attack this afternoon was unlike anything I’ve ever
experienced. And I just don’t know what to do in the wake of it.

Bruno has been at the FBI far longer than I have. If I
reported his actions to Mitchell, we’d just be playing a game of he-said,
she-said. And everyone knows how
those
games tend to turn out. Bruno would say I was lying, I’d probably be let go
from the case. There’d be no one working on Operation Inferno who knew the
extent of his mania. The Devil’s Wraiths and Dante’s Nine would be at the mercy
of an agent who’s clearly gone off the deep end. And I just can’t let that
happen.

I don’t know if Bruno’s cracked under the pressure of
Mitchell’s deadline, succumbed to insanity after seeing something on the job,
or simply gone off his rocker. But I
do
know that I’m the only one standing between him and the MC’s who have come to
be my friends. If Bruno goes after them, finds a way to take them down, no
court in the country is going to question his evidence. He’s too smart—or maybe
too ruthless—not to cover his tracks.

Gritting my teeth, I pick up my cell and shoot a text to
Brooks:

Need a night off, I think.
Under the weather.

What I really need is a night to come up with a plan, but
god knows a little white lie won’t amount to much between us. There’s no way
I’m going to figure out what to do without a little guidance, and there’s only
one person in the world who can give me the advice I need right now. With a
deep breath, I punch in a familiar number and wait as the phone rings.

“Well, you made it a week without my help,” grumbles a surly
voice on the other end of the line. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d last more
than six hours.”

“Hello to you too, Jones,” I smile, relieved to hear my
mentor’s voice—no matter how grumpy it is.

“How are you holding up over there?” he asks, “Blow your
cover yet?”

“Not yet,” I say wryly, “but I’ve still got a few days
before the operation is called off.”

“I’m just fucking with you,” Chuck goes on. I hear him crack
a beer over the line, and go to fetch one from the fridge myself. It’s almost
like having a drink with an old friend, I guess.

“Jones,” I go on, knocking off the bottle cap on the edge of
the counter, “I’m in need of some advice.”

“I figured as much,” he says. “What’s going on?”

“Well,” I begin, unsure of how much I should reveal to him,
“Let’s just say that my investigation hasn’t exactly gone...quite as planned.”

“When do they ever?” he replies.

“Right,” I say, taking a swig of beer, “but things have
really veered off course over here. I’ve come across something...pretty
alarming. But it’s not really something I’ve been given the go-ahead to pursue.
You follow?”

“Sure,” Chuck says, “things get tricky in the real world,
huh? You’re not used to investigating people, just data.”

“Data’s a lot easier to understand,” I sigh.

“No shit,” Chuck laughs, “But that’s what makes this job
fun. Listen, Collins. When you’ve got a lead, you hunt that sucker down. Worse
case scenario, it dries up. Best case, you’ve figured something out that no one
else would have been able to. It’s your job to chase down the truth, Quinn. No
matter where it takes you. Trust your gut, and don’t be afraid to step out of
line.”

“Trust my gut,” I repeat, swallowing hard. “Got it.”

“Is everything OK, Collins?” Chuck asks, concern tingeing
his gruff voice. “You sound a little distressed.”

“That’s one word for it,” I laugh. “Another might be
‘terrified’.”

“Do you need backup?” he goes on. “Should I tell Mitchell—?”

“No,” I cut him off sharply, “no. You’re right. I need to
sniff this out myself first. I’ll be OK, Chuck. I promise.”

“All right,” he says, “I’ll leave it to you. But you’ll call
me if things get out of hand?”

“Of course,” I tell him. It’s another white lie—things have
already gotten out of hand. “I’ve got to get back to it, Jones. Thanks for the
pep talk.”

“Don’t you ever accuse me of being peppy,” he snaps, “but
good luck all the same, Collins. You’ve got this.”

My mentor hangs up, and I’m on my own again. Only now, I
know what I have to do. Something’s going on with Jeff Bruno, something beyond
what the FBI knows about. And I’m the only one who has any idea. Though I’ve
been told that my part in Operation Inferno is all but over, it looks like my
real investigation has just begun.

Only this time, the target is Bruno himself.

“I know it’s crazy,” I say to The Mayor, who’s hopped on the
bed wearing a skeptical scowl, “but I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try
and figure out the truth.”

The old gray cat pads across the covers toward me, and
actually curls up in my lap. I scratch his tattered ears, amazed by his display
of affection. The Mayor’s being cuddly, Bruno’s lost it, I’m falling in love
with a MC bad boy. The whole damn world’s gone nuts.

My phone chirps on the bedspread. Two texts await my appraisal.
The first, from Milo, I ignore without opening. That’s become my go-to tactic
with any communication from him. But the second is a response from Brooks:

I bet I can make you feel
better

My stomach flutters as I imagine Brooks kicking down the
front door of this dingy apartment and having his way with me. I glance around
the unimpressive space that the FBI has granted me. No one from my MC life
knows where this place is. It’s my safe house. But considering Bruno’s actions
today, it’s not feeling too safe anymore. What if that maniac shows up here to
make sure I keep my mouth shut about his assault...for good?

I bite my lip, staring down at Brooks’ text. He’s as new to
the MC world as I am. An outsider and a loner, just like me. It’s why we
understand each other. What if...I let him in on what was going on with me?
Really
let him in? I could
use some backup on this new leg of my investigation, especially since I have no
idea who I can actually trust in the Bureau. Whether I go through with telling
him the truth or not, I don’t want to be alone tonight.

I’d like that.

I send off my short reply, and follow it up with my address.
My heart is racing as I shoo The Mayor off my lap and plant my feet on the
ground. I pace the tiny living room, nervously sipping my beer, until a
response appears on my phone.

Be right there.

Sparks of anticipation sizzle along my nerves. He’s coming
here
. Brooks is coming to
my secret apartment, the single point of access to my real life. And I realize,
as I straighten up my few belongings, that I want him to see this place. I want
him to know the truth about me. What’s the point of keeping this secret from
the one person who really understands me? It’s a risk, letting him in on the
truth. But it’s a far bigger risk to keep him in the dark. If I’m honest with
him, we have a chance at getting through this together. If I continue to lie,
we’ll never make it.

“Holy shit. This is really happening,” I mutter, running my
hands through my hair.

I’m going rogue. Little Quinn Collins is turning into a
loose cannon. I grin, exhilarated by this turn of events. For too long, I’ve
let life do with me what it will. Now, I’m finally snatching back the reins.
And whatever happens, this sense of freedom—of purpose—is worth it. Even if
Brooks is too angry about my deception to stay in my life, even if I never find
anything on Bruno, even if I get seriously hurt in my quest for truth...this is
still the right course.

And it feels damn good.

I slip out of my grubby pajama bottoms and lift my cotton
tee over my head. Brooks is coming over here to make me feel better, and I want
to be ready for him. I pull on a sexy barely-there black thong, a micro denim
mini-skirt, and a tight black tank top that leaves plenty of my midriff
exposed. My red hair falls across my shoulders and back, fanning out against my
freckled skin. I smile to myself, remembering how fond Brooks has become of
those very freckles.

Suited up to be stripped down, I snag two more beers from
the fridge and settle onto the couch. But the second that my butt hits the
sofa, my ears prick up at the low roar of an approaching motorcycle engine. My
heart is in my throat as a flash of headlights sweeps across my front window.
The sound of the engine peaks and cuts off, and I can’t help but race to the
door. Tamping down my elated smile, I pull the door open and peer out into the
night.

Brooks stands in my doorway, helmet tucked beneath his arm.
He looks windblown and flushed, as excited as I am about this little
rendezvous. His fist is raised to knock on the door, but he lets it drop as he
catches sight of me. I feel his eyes rake down the length of my body, dwelling
on every dip and curve.

“If this is what you look like when you’re under the
weather,” he grins, “I think we should take sick days more often.”

“I certainly wouldn’t say no to more house calls from you,”
I reply, stepping aside to let him in.

Brooks runs a hand down my bare arm as he strides across the
threshold and into my tiny apartment. He looks around the unadorned space as I
shut the door tightly behind me, peering out the front window to make sure
we’re not being watched. This is insane, I know. Inviting the target of the
FBI’s investigation back to my safe house for a booty call. But after today, I
don’t know if I give a damn about the FBI’s rules. I’m after the truth, here, not
the story that’s convenient for the Bureau. Bruno may very well be
orchestrating some nasty shit—why not recruit a new partner who’s well
acquainted with playing dirty?

“It’s very, uh...” Brooks says, eyeing my threadbare couch.

“Spartan?” I offer, holding out a beer to him.

“Sure,” he laughs, snatching up the bottle.

An inquisitive meow rings out through the apartment as The
Mayor pokes his head around the corner of the kitchen. His big eyes swing back and
forth between Brooks and I. I swear to god, I think that cat is judging my life
choices as he pads back into this shadows.

“You...have a cat,” Brooks observes.

“No crazy cat lady jokes,” I warn.

“I just would’ve pegged you for a dog person,” Brooks shrugs.
He takes a step toward me, looking me up and down. “This place is not exactly
what I expected. But I guess I should be used to surprises from you by now.
Right, Red?”

“I’m afraid I’m only getting started with the surprises,” I
whisper, laying my hands on the front of his cut.

“Hey,” he says, lifting my chin with his index finger, “I
don’t want you thinking you have to keep things from me. I’ve got plenty of
skeletons buried deep in my closet, too. I don’t do games, remember?”

“I remember,” I breathe, leaning into his powerful body, “I
don’t want to play games either, Brooks. But I’m not used to being honest with
the guys I like.”

“So you do like me, huh, Red?” he grins, running his hands
through my hair.

“You know I do,” I smile back, wrapping my arms around his
hard torso, “And that’s why I want to be honest with you. Totally honest.”

“Well. If I may be totally honest,” he growls, taking a swig
of his beer and setting it down, “I can’t focus on being totally honest when
you’re dressed to kill like that, Red. You look fucking incredible.”

“Oh, this?” I laugh, glancing down at my outfit, “I take it
you like what you see?”

“I love what I see,” he says, letting his hands slide down
over my ass. My pulse quickens at that word:
love
.
But something far more primal than love is overriding my inner romantic. I set
down my own beer and press my body to Brooks’.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I breathe, closing my eyes as his
hands wander all over my body. Each inch of skin his touches lights up with
sensation. “I need you, Brooks.”

“I know,” he growls, spinning my body around in his arms. He
pulls me tightly against him, my back to his muscular chest. “I can feel you
needing me from miles away, babe. I can feel it—‘cause I need you, too.”

“Brooks...wait,” I manage to say, as he takes my breasts in
his hands, “I just have to tell you one thing, before—”

“Can’t it wait, Red?” he rasps, groaning with appreciation
as he realizes I’m not wearing bra. His fingers pinch at my erect nipples,
setting my head spinning.

“It’s just...I may be in trouble,” I gasp, letting my head
fall back against his shoulder, “It may not be entirely safe to—”