Impulsively (Dante's Nine MC) (24 page)

“I can’t do that,” she insists, looking at me in terror, “I
told you, he’ll kill me. My family. What the hell could you even do if I told
you—?”

“Plenty,” I whisper, digging my badge out of my purse and
flipping it open for her to see. Her eyes go wide as she registers my meaning.
“Belle, my name is Quinn Collins. I’m a special agent with the FBI,” I say
evenly. “And I have reason to believe that a fellow agent has gone totally off
his fucking rocker. Pardon my French. I want to take this motherfucker down,
and I think I can do it, too. But first, I need you to tell me who did this to
you.”

She holds my gaze as her frantic thoughts settle. A look of
steely determination comes over her face as she comes to her decision.

“Bruno,” she whispers, clasping my hand tightly. “It was
Jeff Bruno.”

For a moment, it’s all I can do to take her words in. I
don’t dare let myself feel the full extent of my anger just now. I don’t trust
myself to. I simply give Belle’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice ragged, “Thank you, Belle.
I’m so sorry this happened to you. Please believe me when I tell you that I’m
going to do everything in my power to bring this asshole to justice.”

“Do you think Tyke will ever be able to forgive me?” she
asks tearfully, looking younger than ever in that moment.

“I think...it’s impossible to guess what people are capable
of,” I say slowly, “but my best guess is that Tyke’s more than capable of
compassion. And forgiveness.”

“I hope so,” she whispers, falling back against the dressing
room wall, “I really hope so.”

“I’m going to send back some of the other girls to take care
of you,” I say to Belle. “You need to go to the emergency room.”

“OK,” she whispers.

“Oh, and Belle,” I go on, pulling myself to my feet, “if
anyone asks, I introduced myself to you as Keira Campbell. All right?”

“All right...” she mutters, shaking her head. “Man. You MC
people are a fucking strange bunch, you know that?”

“That does seem to be the case,” I smile softly, turning to
go.

My heart is pounding in my ears as I make my way back out
into the main club. I give orders to the girls about what needs to be done for
Belle. They’re so relieved that someone was able to comfort her that they drop
their improvised weapons and flock to their sister in need. I turn next to the
pack of baffled MC brothers. Each looks more gobsmacked than the next.

“Well?” Mac finally demands. “Care to enlighten us about
what the hell is going on?”

“I’m not sure just yet,” I tell him, “but I hope to be
soon.”

I make my way wordlessly past them, and feel Brooks
instantly at my side. As we march back into the sweltering night, two words
clarify in my reeling, roiling mind.

It’s on
.

The momentum that’s been building since Bruno slammed me up
against that armored van and threatened my life is soaring to its peak. I’ve
got my hands wrapped tightly around this situation’s reins, and all I’ve got to
do is hang on. But this is unlike anything I’ve been trained for, unlike
anything I’ve ever experienced. For all I know, I’m about to get bucked out of
the saddle and crushed in a stampede of circumstance. But what else can I do
but see this through?

I was dragged into this mess before I even knew the extent
of it. The second Mitchell chose me to take on this Vegas assignment I became a
player. Bruno tried to scare me off, send me running for the hills, but he only
brought me closer to the center of the action. I have no idea how far and deep
this thing runs, but I know I can’t turn my back now. After what happened to
Belle, how could I leave the Nine and the Wraiths alone to get blindsided? What
if Bruno’s next target is Kassie, or Kelly? I’m not going to let him get away
with this. I can’t.

Brooks and I head back to the penthouse to regroup. We can’t
stay at my place, it’s just not safe enough. Hopefully, The Mayor can hold down
the fort while I’m gone. I trust that cat to take on just about anyone. No,
right now, the penthouse is our best bet. If you’re going to plan the take down
of a dangerous criminal, might as well do it in style, right?

I’m silent as we hurry into the high rise, guarded as ever
by the doorman, Franklin.

“Mr. Tiberi called ahead to say I could expect you both,”
the usually chipper man says, “I’ll secure the premises now that you’re
inside.”

I raise an eyebrow at the doorman. What does he mean, secure
the premises? With a solemn glance, Franklin pulls back the front of his
uniform to reveal a serious-looking piece.

“Thanks Franklin,” Brooks says, leading me toward the
elevator, “good to know you’ll be on guard.”

“What is he, a hit man or something?” I whisper, as we step
into the elevator.

“
Former
hit man,” Brooks corrects me. “Current...private security coordinator.”

My head is spinning as we make our way into the gorgeous
penthouse suite. Routes forward light up in my brain, sparking along like
fireworks. I don’t have time to think of eventualities, we have to act fast.
Bruno’s escalating this conflict with exponential speed and intensity. There’s
no room for playing nice here. I sink down onto the leather couch, resting my elbows
on my knees. Vegas is lit up through the floor-to-ceiling windows before me,
but I can’t concentrate on the stunning view. My next move swims up and
crystalizes in my mind as Brooks sits down next to me, two cold beers in hand.

“It was Bruno,” I tell Brooks through gritted teeth. “He
beat up Belle, and tried to pin it on Tyke.”

“Sonofabitch,” Brooks growls, taking a long swig of beer.
“So, what now? Are you going to go to your agent in charge?”

“No,” I reply, sipping my beer, “no, that won’t do it. I
have to handle this myself.”

“Yourself? Red, what the hell do you mean?” Brooks asks, his
eyes teeming with conflicted concern. “This guy is clearly dangerous. He could
seriously fuck you up, or...what are you doing?”

I’ve whipped out my cell and opened up a new message. Before
Brooks can stop me, I’ve sent off a text to my monstrous fellow agent.

I know what you’re doing.
I want to help.

“There,” I mutter, as the text goes through.

“Are you insane?” Brooks asks, snatching my phone away.
“He’s a maniac.”

“All the more reason to stop him,” I point out.

“That’s what the goddamn FBI is for,” Brooks says, grabbing
my shoulders.

“You know as well as I do that the FBI will never take him
out,” I say quietly. “Just like the Navy was never going to stop that asshole
who went after Natalie. Sometimes you have to take justice into your own hands,
right?”

“Red—”

“Isn’t that what you told me, Brooks?” I insist, taking his
face in my hands.

“Yes...” he allows, his jaw clenched tightly, “But I didn’t
mean your hands. I can’t watch you put yourself in harm’s way. What if something—?”

“Something terrible could happen at any time. To anyone,” I
insist, pressing against him. “We know that better than anyone. But that
doesn’t mean we should shy away from doing what we know is right. I have to
stop this fucker if I can, Brooks. And I’m going to need your help.”

“I can’t lose you,” he says, wrapping his arms tightly
around my waist.

“Then don’t,” I whisper, running my fingers through his
curls. “Help me, Brooks.”

“How am I supposed to think straight with you so close to
me?” he murmurs.

“You’re not. That’s sort of the point,” I grin, brushing my
lips against his throat. He groans as I run my hands down his chest, straddling
him right there on the couch.

“Tell me what you have planned,” he breathes, grabbing my
ass as I grind against his stiffening cock.

“In a minute,” I whisper, closing my eyes as I feel him
growing hard against my sex. “This loose cannon shit has got me all worked up.
I think I need to blow off some steam.”

“Well
that
I can help you with,” Brooks says, bringing his face toward my heaving chest. I
gasp as he tugs down the front of my top, freeing my breasts in one swift
motion. He wraps his lips around my hard nipple, tracing circles there with his
dexterous tongue.

Surely, logistics can wait until after a good fuck.

By the time I awake the next morning, stark naked and
pressed against Brook’s hard body, Bruno’s reply is waiting on my phone. I roll
out of bed as soundlessly as I can and pad into the kitchen. Heart beating like
crazy, I open the text and stare down at Bruno’s message.

You want to meet, little
girl?

I scowl at the message before shooting back a response; I
do, in fact, want to see him. I send along a set of coordinates and a time—high
noon. Hopefully, Bruno’s got a little flair for the dramatic.

After a time, he agrees. The meet is set. My nerves have
already skyrocketed so high that I’ve reached a state of strange calm. However
this next move of mine plays out, at least I know that I’m doing something to
stop this man. And if something should happen to me along the way...well, best
not to think about that just now.

“Is everything set?” I hear Brooks’ voice ask from across
the suite.

I turn to see him framed in the bedroom doorway, not a
stitch of clothing on his incredible body.

“What’s that?” I smile. “I got distracted.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind is what,” Brooks says, shooting
me his crooked grin. “Did the fucker agree to meet with you?”

“He did,” I say, gripping the edges of the kitchen counter.
“It’s all happening.”

“And you’re sure you want to go through with this?” Brooks
asks, pulling on his jeans.

“I’m sure,” I whisper.

“There’s no way I’m going to talk you out of it?” he
presses, striding across the suite toward me.

“Not a chance,” I smile, wrapping my arms around his bare
torso.

“Well then,” he growls, planting a deep kiss on my lips, “we’d
better get you ready for your little play date, then.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, kissing along the sharp line of his
collarbone. “Thank you for letting me do this.”

“Yeah right,” he laughs softly, “as if there’s any
letting
you do anything.
You’re a strong, fierce, fucking stubborn woman. You go your own way.”

“Well, thanks for not trying to stand in my way then,” I
smile.

“Are you scared?” Brooks asks, lifting my face back to his.

“Terrified,” I admit.

“Of getting hurt?” he asks, his face clouded with concern.

“I don’t really care if I get hurt,” I tell him, tracing the
outline of his chest tattoo with the tip of my finger, “but I don’t want to
hurt you by letting something happen to me.”

“Well,” Brooks breathes, kissing the top of my head, “Better
not let anything happen to you, then.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say.

“Is that a promise?” he asks.

“I promise,” I whisper, looking up into his shining green
eyes.

“And...when this is over,” he goes on, his voice low and hoarse,
“what then? Between us, I mean.”

“One thing at a time,” I tell him. “Now come on. Help me get
ready.”

The dry, hot breeze picks up on the barren hillside, setting
a vortex of dust spinning around my ankles. I stand with crossed arms, huge
sunglasses fixed firmly over my face. The cool metal of my handgun, resting
against the small of my back, isn’t doing very much to ease my nerves or fight
the noontime heat. But there’s no turning back now.

Stand up
straight,
I coach myself, checking my watch for the umpteenth time.
You look tougher when you don’t
slouch, Collins
. Uncurling my spine, I rake my eyes along the hilly
horizon, searching for a sign of life. One way or another, this whole thing is
almost over. Just as soon as...