Impulsively (Dante's Nine MC) (6 page)

The site is well-designed and efficient, a product of some
very capable developers, indeed. Even Milo would be impressed by the easy
navigation and minimalist, chic aesthetic. But I’m more concerned with what
lurks
beneath
the
careful layout, whatever that might be.

I pull up a new message window and punch in the site’s
contact email address. Time to get myself—my
new
self—a job. The FBI crafted a brand new identity for me to work under on this
case. My alias is Keira Campbell—a coder and programmer from the East Coast
with development and creative experience at all kinds of firms in New York
City. I’ve got a phony resume, complete with plenty of phony references, and
even a set of phony documents and identification. The Bureau is nothing if not
thorough, I suppose.

Taking a long sip of beer, I start typing Keira’s first-ever
correspondence.

Dear Ms. Bennett and Ms.
Rodgers,

My name is Keira Campbell,
and I’m writing in regard to the current job opening at CrowdedNest.com. I
would like very much to be considered for the full-stack senior developer position
at your company. I have a degree in computer science and experience with web
application coding (ASP.NET, Ruby on Rails, JavaScript, jQuery, SQL), dev-ops,
analytics, copy writing, and web design.

I recently relocated to
the Las Vegas area from New York City, and am seeking local employment with an
innovative tech startup. I’m very intrigued by your company’s story, and would
love to work with female entrepreneurs such as yourselves. Please let me know
if we can set up an interview, my schedule is very flexible.

Sincerely,

Keira Campbell.

“Here goes nothing,” I say to The Mayor, who blinks back at
me disinterestedly. I attach a link to my GitHub profile and, with a deep
breath, I click “send”. Nothing to do now but wait.

I pull myself up off the couch and pace my modest living
room, sipping on my beer and trying to keep my nerves at bay. If I’d known that
this assignment was going to be undercover, I’m not sure if I would’ve had the
guts to take it. Especially given my attitude toward criminals like the MC guys
I’m going after. I wonder who, among those I saw pictured at the office today,
are guilty of murder? Sexual assault? Armed robbery? Here’s hoping I’ll never
have to be near any of them. I could never trust someone who willingly chose to
be part of an outlaw biker gang, whatever their bat-shit rationalization.

The sun is setting quickly over the strip beyond my window.
You’d think that living in a bustling city would make you feel welcome and
secure—surrounded by people and potential friends. But I’ve always been
lonelier in cities than anywhere else in the world. All those people out there,
with their exciting lives and passionate loves, only remind me of how alone I
am.

Just as I’m about to resign myself to another evening of
sitcom reruns and pizza delivery, my laptop pings from across the room.
Apparently, I’ve got mail. It’s barely been half an hour since I sent out my
email to CrowdedNest, but as I glance at my inbox, I see that I’ve already gotten
a response from them. Maybe it’s a form letter or something, letting me know
that the position has already been filled?

I perch in front of my laptop, chewing on my fingernail as I
anxiously open the new message.

Hi Keira,

Thank you so much for your
email. The CrowdedNest team was very happy to receive it! You reached out at
the perfect time, too. We were hoping to interview candidates in the next
couple of days. You seem very well-suited for the job, and we’d love to meet
you. I know it’s short notice, but are you available tomorrow for a casual
interview at our Las Vegas office? Let us know and we’ll send along the
details. Looking forward to hearing from you.

Cheers,

Kassie Bennett

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—” I squeal. “It’s
happening. It’s really happening.”

Even The Mayor perks his ears up at my excitement. I send
back a quick email confirming my interest and availability for tomorrow, and
receive a time and location in no time. Everything is happening so fast—and it
looks like this whole thing just got real. And even though I’m terrified, not
knowing what tomorrow might hold, I’m ready to face this head-on. I have to
proceed fearlessly. I don’t want Mitchell thinking he brought on the wrong
person for this case, or for Bruno to think I can’t handle this myself.

I close my computer with a snap as I spot an incoming Gchat
message from Milo. The last thing I need tonight is a lecture about what a mistake
I’m making. No way. Tonight, it’s all about comfort before what’s sure to be a
crazy big day.

“What do you say, Mayor?” I ask my furry roommate. “How does
a pepperoni pie and a
Friends
marathon sound to you?”

I take his unflinching stare as permission to enjoy my last
night of relative peace however I damn well please.

“You really didn’t need to drive me over here,” I say to
Mitchell as I unbuckle my seat belt. “This isn’t my first day of school.”

“But it
is
your first day as an undercover agent,” my boss replies from the driver seat of
his sedan. “I wanted to make sure your nerves weren’t getting the best of you.”

“I’m fine,” I shrug, glancing out the window. It’s a complete
and utter lie, of course. I’m totally freaking out. But Mitchell doesn’t need
to know that.

“You look great,” he tells me. “Really pulling off the whole
hipster chick thing.”

I glance down at my dark-wash skinny jeans, basic charcoal
tank, slightly oversized cardigan, and lace-up boots. He’s got me on the
hipster thing, I guess. Especially with my unruly curls and thick-rimmed
glasses—a touch I stole right out of the Milo Beckett playbook. I figured this
was my best bet to pass for a techie type.

“Tell me the truth, Mitchell,” I say. “How much of the
reason why you chose me for this job is the way I look?”

“Truthfully? A lot of the reason,” he shrugs.

“Jesus,” I wince. “A little sugarcoating wouldn’t have
killed you.”

“You want sugarcoating, go work for Willy Wonka,” he snaps.
“Young, beautiful women get hired for these jobs in a heartbeat, especially
when other young women are the ones hiring.”

“Is that a real statistic, or something you made up to
justify bringing a pretty girl into your office?” I shoot back.

“Not important,” he says with a wink. “Look, I’m not trying
to diminish your skills as a cyber intelligence agent. You’ve done awesome work
in San Bernardino. But it doesn’t hurt that you look damn good, too. And I
think you know it, Collins. Now can we quit arguing the finer points of
institutionalized sexism and get on with the show?”

“That could be the title of the FBI training manual,” I
mutter, darting out the passenger door before Mitchell can continue my
talking-to.

I plant my feet on the Vegas sidewalk, craning my neck to
see the tops of the buildings all around me. I’ve arrived at the address Kassie
Bennett provided, but...this can’t be right. I’m looking up at a luxury high
rise, with an affable-looking doorman and a golden, gleaming lobby. Not exactly
the place I’d expect to find the offices of a tech startup. What’s the deal?

“Excuse me,” I say to the doorman, as I ease inside the
glamorous building, “I’ve probably got the wrong address, but—”

“Who are you here to see, dear?” the man asks, all helpful
earnestness.

“Kassie Bennett,” I tell him, “I have an interview with
CrowdedNest—”

“Then you are, indeed, in the right place!” the doorman
smiles, grabbing a gold-plated phone from behind the desk. He punches in a
number and looks up at me, “What did you say your name was?”

I very nearly respond with “Quinn Collins”, catching myself
just in time. This whole alias thing is going to take some getting used to.

“Keira Campbell,” I tell the man, covering as best I can.

“Afternoon, Ms. Bennett. This is Franklin,” the doorman says
into the phone. “I have a Keira Campbell here to see you and Ms. Rodgers?” he
pauses a moment, listening for her response, then says, “Wonderful. Thank you,”
and hangs up the phone. “You can go right ahead,” Franklin says to me, waving
toward the elevator bank.

“Which floor?” I ask.

“Just go all the way to the top,” he smiles.

I do what he says, stepping into the vintage-looking
elevator and reminding myself to breathe as it carries me up into the sky.
You can do this, Collins, just
stay calm,
I silently urge myself,
You’re
a trained, capable, cool-headed agent. Everything’s going to be OK
. If
only my racing heart and frantic mind would believe that. At least my gut’s
telling me that I’m going to make it through this. And that’s all that matters
in the end, right?

The elevator doors part with a smooth
swish
, and I step out onto
a small, marbled landing. I’m flanked on either side by two identical, stately
doors—the first gilded with a golden letter “A”, the second with an equally
glitzy letter “B”. I raise an eyebrow at my elegant and totally unexpected
surroundings.

“What is this, some kind of game show?” I mumble, looking
back and forth between the doors. I’ve sure as hell never seen an office like
this before. But then again, you never can tell with these startup types.
Milo’s creative agency had beanbags instead of chairs and walls made entirely
of white board. So I guess anything goes.

I don’t have to wait on the landing for long before the door
marked “B” swings open. I have to snap my jaw in place to keep it from falling
open as two of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen up close appear in the
doorway.

“You must be Keira,” smiles the taller of the two—a
statuesque blonde with tan skin and flowing blonde locks. “I’m Kassie. So glad
you could make it today.”

“Hi, I’m Kelly,” chimes in the second woman, who’s even more
petite than I am. Her jet-black hair falls in loose, silky curls, and there’s a
distinct air of mischief about her.

“Nice to meet you both,” I manage, floored by the women that
stand before me. Kassie and Kelly’s photos weren’t on display at the FBI field
office, so I concocted some ridiculous idea of what they might look like in my
head. I expected stereotypical TV biker wives—bleached blonde, too much makeup,
tacky tattoos, fake tits. But these ladies are utterly gorgeous, just about my
age, and undeniably
cool
.
When they ask me to come inside, I feel like I’ve just been invited to sit at
the popular girls’ table in the high school cafeteria.

The sight that greets me as I step through the door only
leaves me more gobsmacked. We’ve entered one of the most beautiful, elegant
apartments I’ve ever seen. This penthouse suite is the picture of economy and
minimalist design. Not a single object seems superfluous or even slightly out
of place. But it’s definitely an apartment—albeit a gorgeous one—not an office.

“This...is your office?” I breathe, gaping through the wall
of windows on the far side of the room. An incredible view of the strip sprawls
through the clear glass, glimmering in the afternoon sunlight.

“Home office, in a way,” Kassie says, walking toward the
sleek kitchen. “My old man and I live just across the hall. He bought up both
these penthouses before we met. Kelly was staying here, for a minute, but since
we haven’t got a new tenant, we’ve been running CrowdedNest from here.”

“But the commute must kill you,” I kid.

“I like her already,” Kelly says to Kassie. “A sense of
humor is important when you work on a three-person team.”

Kassie carries a tray in from the kitchen bearing a french
press, a plate of baked goods, and a pitcher of cucumber water. I can’t believe
these are the women I’m investigating in relation to outlaw bikers. They seem
totally cultured and composed...and yet Kassie just mentioned her “old man”.
How secretive are they, really, about their MC involvement? I wonder if they
even realize how dangerous these organizations can be.

“Take a seat, Keira, and help yourself,” Kassie says,
settling down at a long wooden table beside Kelly. I sit across from this
stunning pair of women, trying to refocus on the task at hand. I’m here to land
this job so I can start gathering some real intelligence. Time to show them
what I’ve got. Whatever that is...

“You couldn’t have reached out to us at a better time,” Kelly
says. “We’ve had no luck finding qualified candidates in the area, and we’d
really prefer to have someone working locally.”