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“Then who’s running it?”
They slowed behind a snowplow and he smirked. “Not sure, but she’s damn pretty.”
Rubble lifted his brows. “A nymph?”
“Nope.” He chuckled inwardly. He and Kita met Jupiter Quinn last week. Evidently, Queenie felt compelled to help her. Somehow, Kevlar knew the newest mystery woman in Snowshoe would be right up Rubble’s alley.
“What you smiling like that for?”
He nodded to the lodge up the mountain. “Just excited to see my girl.”
Rubble rolled his uniquely hued eyes. “Macha have mercy.”
Kevlar didn’t reply. He was too busy watching the massive lodge come into view. It was the club’s best moneymaker, but he had a hunch the newly purchased bakery would get plenty of Rubble’s business soon.
* * *
Nikita
The city of Snowshoe fell delicately against the backdrop of the mountains. From Macha’s Snowshoe Lodge, she could see every inch of the town, plus the snow resort the club ran during the winter. It was packed full of tourists. Most were preparing for the winter games that’d start in the next week. She was thrilled to be part of the event despite snow never being one of her favorite pastimes.
Placing the freshly baked cookies and pastries on the welcome desk, Nikita nodded proudly. Baking had never been her strong suit, but she quickly found she wasn’t too bad at it.
Her phone buzzed from her back pocket. Checking it, she noticed the coded message from her new boss in Denver. The internal investigation was put to bed shortly after her father’s murder. Being transplanted to Colorado was the best move she’d made.
Except for Kevlar.
The man of the hour laughed, drawing her eyes to him. He and his brothers recently arrived back from God knew where after part of their Macha initiation. She didn’t ask about it. None of the women did. But if she wanted to know, Kevlar would tell her. They had the kind of relationship where no secrets were kept for long.
A guest walked in, his small daughter clasping his gloved hand. For a split second, Nikita felt sad. Once upon a time, she and her father frequented a lodge in the Swiss Alps. But that was so many years ago.She and Kevlar flew back for her father’s funeral. Her mother even made the transatlantic flight to watch her husband’s body descend into the firm ground. It made sense. She’d had to see the actual body herself before she accepted the truth.
The death of Estevan “Muerte” Morales didn’t come as a surprise. She dedicated every waking moment away from Macha to taking down the MCs her father associated with. Thus far, she found plenty of scumbags to put away.
Sitting by the large wood burning fire, she thought back over the last few months. All the women they saved from the trafficking ring were safe either at their original homes or ones in the States. It came as a surprise when Yasmina insisted she stay in Snowshoe after a short visit. Apparently, the woman wanted to help the MC who saved her. With Yasmina’s tender heart and knowledge of baking, Queenie purchased a shop in the middle of town that very day. It was something Nikita could get behind every time. Plus, she liked having the woman around to talk to now and then.
True to her word, Nikita set up a foundation for the women who were trafficked with her, plus more. There was plenty of money thanks to her father’s will, which left his entire estate to her. She couldn’t think of a better way to right the wrongs he inflicted on so many innocents. Diablos was successfully disbanded thanks to her FBI and MC resources. She kept an open file for the few Diablos members that managed to leave the United States.
A boisterous laugh caught her ear, and she grinned at Hawk chasing Mandi’s niece, Kaley. The club flew Mandi’s family out for an extended stay at the lodge. Mandi would’ve been proud to see Hawk fawning over the five-year-old. Nikita made certain to keep in contact with the little girl over the last months. The few times she flew back east, the duo even visited Mandi, radio safely stowed near the ornate gravestone.
The Greenback Cutthroats somehow escaped the wrath of the FBI. At least most of the members did. A select few were dragged to jail and were awaiting their day in court. From last she heard, the Cutthroats were president-less and actively looking for a new one. It gave her pause to think that someone else might take over the organization, but another part of her hoped the club would turn around and live within the scope of the law.At least most of the law.So long as they kept off her radar, she’d leave them be. If that ever changed, she’d be the first to put her FBI-issued boot up their asses. Love didn’t make her soft; love enhanced her intuitions instead.
Nikita focused on the orange flames. Her time with Macha taught her many things. Mostly how to let herself love again. Kevlar had the most to do with her transformation. She loved that man more with each passing day. It physically hurt to think about a time they wouldn’t be together. She made it a point to put him first, not her job, a big adjustment for her and the agency.
Kevlar became the person she told everything to. Just like when they were young, dumb kids. She grinned behind her fist. He even helped her with some FBI operations. When it came to MC information opening MC doors, he was irreplaceable. She could do it on her own, but now she didn’t need to. Worrying about the future didn’t keep her up at night anymore. Not with Kevlar watching her six at all times.
“You ready, sexy?”
Turning, she smiled at Kevlar’s handsome face. The scruff on his cheeks was fuller, as was the hair on his head. That’d been her only request. She needed something to grab onto, and he hadn’t complained in the slightest.
“I am.” She stood, taking his outstretched hand. “You didn’t abandon that prospect in the mountains, did you?”
Kevlar’s lips parted, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he led her to the winding staircase and into a woodsy themed room. The lock clicked in place, and she tore away his shirt in the next instant.
“Somebody’s eager,” he teased, unlatching her bra.
“Likewise.” She bit the side of his neck and he groaned.
His eyes grazed her naked torso, concentrating on the newest tattoo on her skin. It was the only one done with colored ink. Seeing his focus, she traced the sketch Isa made of a new rendition of the goddess, Macha. Her hair was black, but instead of ghostlike features, bright blue eyes stared back at anyone who dared see the tattoo on her ribs. The goddess sat directly below her left breast, controlling the skin above her heart. Kevlar brought color to her heart, and the tattoo was evidence of it if nothing else.
