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“Off and on. Their president is in prison. Guess he got pinched and is serving life for multiple murders.”
“Wait, he’s still running it from prison?”
“As far as everyone knows. His officers run day-to-day operations.”
This surprised him. Not many club presidents could maintain control over their men during incarceration. “He must be pretty badass.”
A strange flicker surged in Rubble’s mismatched eyes. “He’s not one you want to fuck with. I heard his wife and daughter testified against him at his trial, then went into witness protection for their safety.”
“He’d hurt his own family?”
“Guess so.” Rubble started his bike. “Sad, isn’t it?”
Kevlar followed suit. “Yeah. If the Greenback Cutthroats are in bed with Diablos, we need to know about it. Snowshoe doesn’t need that kind of violence. Even if they’re ten miles away.”
“Hawk heard a few Cutthroat bikers talking about trafficking too.”
He cringed at the thought. “Animals or people?”
“Dunno.” Rubble jutted up his chin. “That’s what we’re gonna find out.” He grinned. “Let’s ride.”
Easing off the ground, Kevlar followed Rubble to the MC bar in the next town over. The wind cooled him until he walked through the front doors of the Rusty Cantina. His blood surged a fire he long thought diminished. His personal heaven on earth with a dash of hell sat in front of him.Well, fuck me sideways.
Chapter Four
Nikita
“That was easy.”Mandi downed a shot of tequila and popped a lime in her mouth, sucking in the juice and making a face at the sourness.
“Almost too easy.” Nikita glanced around the bar full of burly bikers. It was the club’s main hangout and source of business in the town of Waverley, Colorado.
Mandi handed her a shot, swaying to the music. “Your contact got us in. What’s too easy about that? She’s one of the club’s whores. I can’t say I love being a fake whore, but I guess it’s better than being an old lady.” She eyed her friend. “I mean, honestly, who wants to be one of those?”
Swallowing her immediate reaction, Nikita opted against explaining her mother’s title once upon a time. When she was a child, being an old lady seemed so exciting and glamorous. Finding out the truth about her father sent her back to square one.Nothing is as it seems.It was the one constant in her life. Not even Mandi knew her FBI origin story, and she’d keep it that way. The more people knew, the more they were in danger.
“How’re we going to get out of, well, you know, screwing any biker who demands it?”
That was the one thing Nikita hadn’t counted on. She was fully aware of the MC “doll” role in the club but didn’t expect to be welcomed into the club as women used purely for self-gratification. Her gut didn’t like the undercover role, but her head told her to suck it up.
“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Nikita sipped her bottle of Bud Light. Tap and canned beer weren’t the same. If she had her way, they’d sip something much stronger.
“Best-case scenario, we hand them off to one of the actual club girls.”
“And the worst case?” She met Mandi’s gaze and shrugged. “Aw hell no, I’m not doing that.”
“Oh, calm down, we won’t have to act out our roles.”
“Better not.” Mandi swiveled around on the barstool. “But I gotta say, there are a lot of hot guys in Colorado. Maybe I’ll try out my cuffs on a few.” She chewed the tiny straw in her drink. “I wouldn’t mind knocking boots with a bad boy.”
Following her gaze, Nikita had to admit there were a few lookers. She took a drink. But none who could tempt her for even a fast fuck behind the bar. She’d gone months without casual hook-ups and could go another few more before she got desperate.
Since arriving in Waverley, their club contact, Juliet, set them up at the Greenback Cutthroat dollhouse. It was an old hotel, complete with plenty of rooms for the girls and MC members who wanted to taste. Juliet assured them they’d be fine. New girls were a delicacy and ones the MC didn’t fuck all at once. Plus, they couldn’t become acting dolls until initiation. The act evidently included one full night spent with the club cabinet members. Nikita shivered at the mere mention. They’d be out of Waverley and Cutthroat control before anyone was initiated.
“Now, he is one hell of a man. Hot damn.”
Swinging her gaze to where Mandi had her eyes glued, Nikita couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath. “No fucking way.”
Tucker Dorous stood in the entry of the Rusty Cantina decked out in more tattoos than the last time she saw him and seemingly ten times sexier by all accounts. His chest was wider, muscles straining at each movement. The beer in her stomach gurgled almost as loudly as Mandi.
