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This time, Mandi flipped her off, a smile on her oval face. “You talk big.”
Not bothering to watch the FBI swoop in on the rest of the Grow MC members, Nikita perused the greenhouse. Marijuana plants abounded for as far as she could see. This wasn’t why she singled out this particular MC. Their side business of cocaine and heroin was the real culprit.
She walked through the tables, eyeing the varying types of marijuana. The plant didn’t bother her. After all, she’d experimented in college like everyone else in her dorm. Rounding the last table, she found what she was looking for. What she’d staked her career on. A lone laptop sat just off the room, the screen filled with numbers and bank accounts.
“Yo, Wells, get over here.” She motioned to the IT man in her unit. She’d dragged him—quite literally—from his cozy hovel at headquarters because of her gut.
The curly-haired man cautiously avoided the detained bikers on his way to her. “What’d you find?”
She picked up the laptop and unceremoniously handed it to him. “I believe this will substantiate my theories about this MC laundering drug money. I have a hunch you’ll see Diablos in there somewhere.”
Agent Wells pushed up his glasses and furiously typed. After a few seconds, his eyes widened, and he started nodding. “Whoa, theyarehere. How’d you know?”
Keeping her cool, Nikita shrugged. “It’s what I do.” She walked backward. “Let me know when the full specs come back. I need to hear about it ASAP.”
She didn’t wait for Wells to nod before turning around and all but skipping out of the room. Nothing could get her down after this.
“Agent Stockdale, please report to my office when you return.”
She grimaced at the voice always in her ear.Except that.
“Yes, sir.” She pulled out the earpiece and handed it to the tech controller on her way out the building. After her morning, she’d earned a latte and croissant.
Thirty minutes later, she waited for the elevator doors to open to the fifth floor of the FBI building in Boston. The exact location was kept under wraps, but anyone who watched the block could see agents filling in and out of the exits.
“Way to go, Nikita. I heard you reeled in a big one.”
“Thanks, Kathy.” She smiled at the receptionist and handed her a bag with a warm blueberry muffin inside. It was their routine. She’d bring Kathy a pastry after she took down the latest MC and the older woman helped her now and then with office work.
Her black boots clicked on the recently waxed floor. Any other female field agent wouldn’t dare wear heeled boots, but she wasn’t like the rest. She staked her reputation on her career and wouldn’t allow her fashion to suffer because of her job title.
Moving her motorcycle helmet from under her left arm to her right, she nodded at a passing FBI agent. Riding her rebuilt Harley in the winter didn’t happen much, but a slight reprieve in the weather gave her the perfect opportunity to feel the rush of adrenaline only a bike could offer.
The modern artwork on the wall led to a secured door. Using her card badge, she swiped it along the black box and waited for the green light. The door buzzed, and she pulled at the handle, mindful not to let anyone else enter with her.
A maze of cubicles greeted her, the scent of burned coffee lining the air. Most of the employees here were desk techs. The clump of cubicles near the back of the room was for field agents. She spotted Mandi’s desk across the hall but steered toward the office on the other end of the large space.
Knocking lightly, she brushed back her midnight black hair. “You wanted to see me?”
Randy Penn lifted his head, green eyes astute. “Nikita, yes, please shut the door.”
She did so begrudgingly and sank into the chair opposite his desk. It was uncomfortable and probably meant to be so people didn’t linger. “What’s up?”
Randy finished typing his email then focused on her. It’d take an imbecile not to notice the way his eyes brazenly fixed to her breasts beneath the gray shirt. She didn’t shrug back or try to deviate his gaze. After working predominately with men, Nikita had grown a thick skin. Thicker still than the one her criminal of a father forced on her.
“You’re aware of the recent breach to our online servers.”
“I am.”
His left cheek twitched. “It appears a few personnel files were taken.”
“That’s it?” She glanced to the clock then back.
“Yes, but very specific personnel files.”
This made her perk up. She watched him closely and put the pieces together. “Mine, I take it? Why?” She knew the answer before she finished speaking.
“Your identity has been compromised, Agent—Nikita.” He straightened his tie. “It could be nothing, or it may have been an intricate rouse to get marshal files. Those were the ones taken, mind you—about twenty in total. We’ve already scrubbed the active files and taken care of those assets. Which means the only file open is you.”
