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That, he disagreed with. The club whores—or nymphs in Macha MC—did help. At first. After successfully defeating the Twelve Brothers a month prior, Kevlar had his fill of the assortment of nymphs. Redheads, blondes, brunettes, and every color in between. They helped satisfy his body but didn’t alleviate the constant nightmares or quiet the sense of danger that followed him.
“Well, shit, I thought I was ahead of the game.”
Kevlar grinned when a tall man filled the space next to Hawk. Rubble, his old military chum, stood with a disappointed expression on his bearded face. The bright red beanie cap kept his bald head covered, but Kevlar knew the tattoos that lay on his skull.
“You’re never ahead with me around.” He grabbed Rubble’s hand and the two chest bumped.
“Yeah, yeah, asshole.”
“You should join me sometime. I only go ten miles.”
Rubble rolled his eyes, one blue, one green. Years ago, it’d freaked Kevlar out. Once they’d spent hours on end in the never-ending sandbox of the Middle East though, Kevlar changed his mind about the man’s anomaly.
“Fuck you and your ten miles.” Rubble passed on the offer for a cigarette. “I usually hit up the shooting range in the mornings.” He squinted at their surroundings. “But with this shit, I’ll wait until it clears.”
The sun’s bright rays bit through the blanket of fog, illuminating the trio outside. The warmth spread over Kevlar’s skin, a sharp contrast to the cold sweat drying on his tattooed body.
“I missed Colorado.”
He didn’t care if it made him sound like a pussy. Colorado was home. The better parts of his life were spent amid the tall pines and the scent of fresh mountain springs. His teenage years may have been spent at a military school out East, but his heart remained in the densely wooded mountains of Colorado.
“We all miss home eventually,” Rubble chimed in, eyes focused on the horizon.
A pang of regret hit Kevlar. He’d missed home, sure, but there was something else he missed.Someone else.He hadn’t seenhersince they were lovestruck kids in college. Soon after spring break her freshman year, Nikita Morales disappeared, never to be heard from again. It tore him up inside every day. It was the one mystery he hadn’t solved. Years overseas hadn’t lessened the burden either. He needed to uncover where she went and why. Until then, he couldn’t release the hold she had on his heart.
Grabbing another cigarette, he lit it just in time for three more club members to stumble outside and watch the sunrise. Watching the sunrise didn’t happen often, but the sense of brotherhood was strong with Macha. It was why he’d patched in the first place. Now that he was officially retired from the Army, he could settle into a normal life.If a motorcycle club is normal.
It wasn’t, but it was better than living out of a green duffle. Whatever the next years brought, Kevlar had to remind himself of that. He was home, and he’d defend his home with his brothers until the very end if it came to that.
Chapter Two
Nikita
Gun poised for action,Nikita Stockdale followed the stench of death down the hallway. She was close. She could feel it in her gut and her gut was never wrong. Over the years, she’d learned to trust it more than the myriad of fellow FBI agents she’d met along the way.
The light overhead flickered, the sound buzzing in her ears. Her blue FBI jacket rustled slightly when she came up to a door and cleared the room. The five agents behind her followed at a similar pace, though the last man lagged a bit.
The scent grew stronger the deeper they moved into the lair. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, the sensation a familiar high for her. It was one she lived for over the years. Being stuck behind a desk wasn’t who she was. A field agent was the only life she envisioned from day one.
“Stockdale, don’t blow this,” a voice griped in the earpiece of her left ear.
Despite fifteen years, her government-assigned surname didn’t feel right. It didn’t sound right. She gritted her teeth—her boss was constantly on her ass about one thing or another. She was the best in her unit, but Randy Penn had it out for her ever since she rejected his not-too-subtle offer to suck his dick to get a promotion.
Obviously, she’d turned the narcissistic asshole down. Ever since, Randy tried and failed to catch her in a compromising situation so he could swoop in and save the day… with his dick. She rolled her eyes, never once allowing the attractive yet pompous man to get the upper hand. She’d learned her lesson young.Gracias, Papi.
A closed door beckoned to her at the end of the last hallway.This is it.Sweat trickled down her neck, the sweltering heat from the motorcycle club’s drug grow house an oven with her current duds. A body sat crumpled on the left side of the hall, his blood pooling on the floor. She checked for a pulse just in case but found none. It was a sad occurrence and one she saw too often in the MC world.
Motioning to her crew, she nodded once and waited for breach. The door swung open, agents filing into the greenhouse. Gunshots rang out upon entry. A bullet whizzed by her face and she dropped to the floor.
Gripping her gun tighter, she glanced under the table and spotted the feet of the MC members scurrying away. Acting fast, she let off five shots, each hitting one of the bikers’ legs.
“Aw, come on, Stockdale, can’t you let us get one?” The whiny voice of Mandi Riggs met Nikita’s ears.
Popping up from her hiding spot, she preened at her best friend of five years. “I’m not even sorry.”
Mandi shook her head, walking over to one of the injured bikers and cuffing him. “I mean, you’ve collared the last, what, five motorcycle clubs? Can’t you share the satisfaction of shooting them? You know I like to do that.”
Nikita pulled the man off the ground and handed him over to one of the other agents. “Nah, there’s no fun in that. Plus, I’m a better shot.”
