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“Hey, get off your arses,” Reaper called, cheeks a cherry red color. “I didn’t throw this party for you to sit idly by.”
Doc took another shot and nodded. “All right, better go make Prez happy.” He chuckled. “I don’t know how the old man keeps up with us some days.”
Kevlar watched Reaper’s exchange with the nymphs. It wasn’t one of lust but of fun instead. “He probably says the same about us.” Clapping Doc on the back, he led the bachelor into the throng of dancing women. If the man was about to relinquish his unmarried status, Macha was sure to give him a night he wouldn’t forget.
Chapter Fourteen
Nikita
“Stockdale,I don’t care who you have to fuck, I want this trafficking ring.”
Nikita held back her initial response. Moments ago, her boss gave her the go-ahead to involve Macha MC. She and Mandi couldn’t do this on their own, and it was too late to add more agents undercover. A local alliance was what they needed.
“If Macha gives us the Cutthroats and Diablos, I don’t give a shit. Use them and offer immunity if you have to.” Randy shuffled papers on the other side of the call. “Macha’s never even been on our radar. No use in creating more paperwork.”
Ten minutes later, he encouraged them to stay undercover if possible and utilize any source necessary. Having a MC behind them would help with the takedown.
“Okay, on that note, I’ll check in later.” She hung up before her boss could add any jokes about their undercover roles as club whores. Neither she nor Mandi liked playing dolls, but it was their only in after stonewalled attempts.
She walked the short distance to the road, Mandi by her side. “You really think bringing Macha into this is a good idea?”
Opening the car door, Nikita shrugged. “All I know is Kevlar isn’t one to let something drop.”
“What do you mean?”
Climbing in, Nikita turned down the radio. Mandi last drove the car, and her music choice and volume were too wild for that moment. “After my mom and I left, he looked for me.”
“How long?”
“The Marshals stopped telling me after a few months. He was deployed not long after the trial.” She buckled and steered the car toward Snowshoe. “Could’ve been longer.”
“Damn, girl.” Mandi popped in a piece of gum and offered her one. “Why didn’t you tell him?”
She gripped the steering wheel tighter, ignoring the offer. “It would’ve made it worse.”
Mandi let the conversation drop, and so did Nikita. She’d have plenty of time to rehash the past with Kevlar once she found him. That was the easy part. Even if she’d never visited the clubhouse, anyone in Snowshoe would help. Not only because they were friendly but also because the town appreciated the MC. It was a new sensation in her job. Most towns hated the motorcycle clubs and ratted them out the first chance they got.
Pulling into Macha’s clubhouse parking lot twenty minutes later, she didn’t have to wait long to see his solid form. He stood outside under the awning, smoke curling from the cigarette in his right hand. Two more Macha bikers stepped outside, and her stomach clenched.
“You sure you want to ignore that hunky guy?” Mandi asked, jutting a thumb toward Kevlar. His military haircut had faded slightly, and dark fuzz covered his head. He narrowed his eyes, and she took off her sunglasses. Recognizing her, Kevlar flicked away the cigarette and started walking in her direction.
“I’m not sure of anything anymore.”
***
“Nikita, pleased to officially meet you.”
She shook the older man’s hand, eyes drifting to his cut. The black leather vest said Reaper on one side and Prez on the other. His long, white beard was neatly trimmed, and his blue eyes friendly. Immediately she wondered why such a harrowing name was given to a jolly man with an Irish accent. “You too.”
“While we always welcome visitors as pretty as you two, I suspect you’ve come for a specific reason.”
Moving to a seat, she glanced over the wide wooden table. They were in Macha’s inner room that much she could tell from the long table complete with the Celtic goddess engraved in the grains of the wood.
“Mandi Riggs and I work for the FBI.” The collective inhale didn’t faze her. “My partner and I are currently undercover in the Greenback Cutthroats, tracking a shipment of trafficked women.” She slid her gaze from Reaper to Kevlar. He simply crossed his arms over his chest, face unmoving. “As it’s become evident, we can’t do this alone. We’d appreciate any assistance you can afford.”
Rubble was the first to speak, but not to her. “Told you.”
She glanced to the man he nudged but found Kevlar’s face unreadable.
