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“He’s actually a really amazing guy.” She sighed, a wistful expression on her face. “I didn’t fall for him or anything, but I wouldn’t mind seeing him on occasion.”
The subject of their conversation strode through the door, Doc and Rubble behind him. Mandi shot her a warning glare and Nikita zipped her lips.
A man dressed in FBI gear came in next, his blue eyes pinning to her. “Nikita Stockdale, right?”
She nodded and outstretched her hand. “You must be Agent Gibson.”
“Please, call me Zane. Nice to meet you in person finally.” He shook her hand. “My team was briefed on the way and are waiting in the truck. I’ll be point on the op itself, you and your partner second.”
“Great.” She heard more bikers enter the room—gruff voices mingled with one she knew well. “Have a seat.” Zane took the seat to her left, leaving her in an FBI sandwich with Mandi on the other side.
Ten minutes later, she perused the room. Plenty of men and women with Macha apparel filled the space. It was almost claustrophobic. A few women were familiar—Dolly, Isa, and Queenie. The rest weren’t, but without a doubt, they were dedicated to the cause and to Macha.
Clearing her throat, Nikita began. “Agent Gibson and his team are here to follow the exchange between Diablos and the Greenback Cutthroats. As many of you already know, their partnership is based off the Cutthroats’ ability to move trafficked women across the Rockies.”
She searched out Kevlar’s gaze but came up empty. His focus remained on the folder in his hands. “Macha’s role is simple. Cut off the Cutthroats’ alternative route through the state so they’re forced to take the route that leads to the FBI ambush. Once they cross state lines, we’ll take them down.”
She nodded to Zane. He stood and quickly went over the specifics. His men would handle the dangerous stuff. Macha wouldn’t be anything more than bouncers in a club.
“Thanks to Agent Stockdale—” Zane smiled at her. “—we know the shipment is planned for Thursday, two days from now. Plenty of time for us to adequately prepare.”
By the end, Zane and Rubble walked off together, heads bent over in hushed conversation. It made sense. The sergeant at arms needed every last movement to ensure every man in his club was kept safe.
“Nikita, I’m leaving to meet with a potential informant in the Cutthroats dollhouse. It’s not for an hour, but I like to arrive early,” Mandi said, the room still full but everyone focusing on their own conversations.
She swiveled her chair, brow cocked. “An hour early, huh? I wonder why.” She tapped her chin faux thoughtfully. “Oh, yeah, probably because you need to get some dick first.”
Mandi rolled her eyes and stood. “Whatever. Don’t be hating.”
“Be safe.”
“Always,” Mandi called; Hawk’s arm laced loosely around her waist.
The room cleared quickly, Nikita the only one left besides the club president.
“How’d the visit with your father go?”
Meeting Reaper’s kind blue eyes, she sighed. “As well as it could’ve, I suppose.”
“My father was in prison too.” He leaned back in his chair. “It was tough as a kid to see my old man behind bars.”
Interest piqued, she closed the folder and focused on him. His tanned face bespoke years of riding his motorcycle outside without sunscreen, his hands showing signs of arthritis. “What was he in for?”
“Murder.” Reaper straightened his leather cut. “I was about ten years old when he went away. My mom left him and remarried somebody I loathed for the longest time. When he saved my sorry arse from ending up like my old man, I couldn’t hate him anymore. As it turns out, he’s part of the reason we started Macha.” He smiled. “Ireland was a different place back then.”
“Why did you and your brother start Macha?” She always liked to hear the origin stories from the MCs she collared. Most of the time, they were dumbass reasons, and she took no pity on them.
“My step-dad was in a motorcycle club. Me and my older brother used to hang out at the clubhouse all the time. It was great for a while. The brothers were always there for each other no matter what happened.”
“That’s one of the things I like about MCs,” she admitted.
“I agree.” His smile faded. “But this club saw women as possessions. They mistreated them.”
She nodded. It was the sad truth for Diablos and the one she grew up seeing glimpses of in her youth. Women were belongings to MCs. It never sat right as a child. “Most do.”
“We decided we couldn’t support any club who would do that anymore, so we started our own. One based off stories our mother used to tell us about the goddess Macha.” Reaper pointed to the Celtic goddess carved in the table. “We pledged to never cause a woman intentional harm. It’s not always possible in our line of work, but we built the club from the ground up with that goal in mind. Never regretted one day, either.” He chuckled. “Well, I do miss Ireland. That’s my only complaint.”
Nikita leaned her elbows on the table. “Why did you come to Colorado anyways? Seems like an odd place to have a sister location.”
