Impulsively (Dante's Nine MC) (10 page)

He leans casually against the bar, his strong hand wrapped
around an ice-cold beer bottle. A smudge of engine grease arches across his
cheek, somehow rendering him even more ruggedly handsome. His bright green eyes
are roving all along my body, but for once he doesn’t seem ready to make a joke
at my expense. I realize that he’s actually too caught off guard by my new look
to speak. When his eyes finally find my face, I feel my knees go weak. He wants
me.
Bad
. I can tell
from the urgency in his gaze. And in this moment I’m reminded for the
thousandth time how much I want him, too.

“Who do we have here?” John Baxter asks from the bar,
cocking his head at me.

“This is the new girl at CrowdedNest,” Tiberi replies,
wrapping an arm around Kassie’s slender waist.

“The new girl’s name is Keira,” I clarify. “Thanks for
letting me stop by.”

“We’re not about to complain about having a hot red head
around,” howls the man named Kip, raising a whiskey glass to me.

“Excuse me,” protests a feminine voice, “you already have a
resident hot red head, Kip. Or have you forgotten?”

I glance toward the voice and spot a trio of women at the
end of the bar. While Kassie and Kelly may not look like standard biker babes,
these three are hitting the stereotype
hard
.
There’s a plump blonde, a very thick brunette, and a voluptuous red head. All
three are garbed in tiny tank tops, bare midriffs, and Daisy Dukes. And all
three are staring daggers at me.

“Calm down, Sherry,” Kassie tells the pouting redheaded.
“We’re not making Keira our mascot or anything. She’s just here for the party.”

“Speaking of,” says a women behind the bar, a gorgeous,
modern day Bettie Paige, “I think it’s about time we get this thing started,
don’t you?”

A rollicking roar rises up from the assembled men. The extra
booze is dragged in from Kassie’s car, the barbecue supplies taken around back
to the fire pit behind the clubhouse. Bodies in frenzied motion careen all
around me as I stand awkwardly in the middle of the bar. I’ve been brought
along to take part in the festivities, but I have no idea how to behave. I
don’t even know how I’m
allowed
to behave. Mitchell and I never discussed this possibility. Can I talk to the
members? Ask them about their club? Have a drink? Or five?

“Looking a little lost there, Red,” a voice growls in my
ear.

I whip around to find Brooks towering over me. The low light
of the bar throws his features into stunning relief. Even the scar across his
eyebrow looks perfect here. He’s like the rough-hewn work of a master
sculptor...whose work I’m an avid fan of.

“I haven’t spent much time in biker bars,” I smile, planting
my hands on my hips.

“You look right at home to me,” he observes. I swallow a
gasp as he reaches out and runs a strong, well-worn hand down my bare arm,
letting it come to rest on my hip. “Actually, fucking gorgeous is how you
look.”

“I, uh...” I stammer, entranced by the heat of his hand
against my bare skin.

“Now that you’re here,” he goes on, “I can give you the full
MC experience. Ever been with an outlaw before?”

The word
outlaw
sends a jolt of reason through my lusty mind. “Can’t say that I have,” I reply coolly.

“I’d be happy to change that tonight,” he grins, sliding his
hand around to the small of my back. I want to throw my arms around him and
slug him all at once. Instead, I settle for an outraged look and a big step
back.

“Does that work on most women?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“What?” he asks, casually shoving his hands into his
pockets. He doesn’t seem at all deterred by my retreat.

“The mysterious bad boy thing,” I quip. “Does that get you a
lot of tail?”

“You know the answer to that, Red,” he shoots back, pulling
a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. “Does it intimidate you?”

“Why would I be intimidated by the amount of women you’ve
slept with?” I ask.

“You’re not as experienced as I am,” he says. It’s an
observation, not a question. “So what? Doesn’t mean we can’t have a good time
together.”

“Why would you assume I want to sleep with you?” I ask
heatedly.

“Because look,” he grins, lighting his smoke, “you brought
it up first.”

My mouth moves soundlessly for a second before I can
recover. “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” I demand.

“You could say that,” he replies, taking a deep drag of his
Marlboro.

“Well then, let’s be clear,” I say, leveling my gaze at his
gorgeous face, “you don’t get to have me just because you want me. I’m not a
toy, Brooks.”

“Oh, I know that,” he says. “You can’t be a toy. Toys don’t
want to be played with. You, on the other hand...”

“You’re just going to keep on assuming that I want you,
then?” I ask, exasperated.

“Fuck yeah,” he grins, “because I know you do.”

“We’ll see about that,” I tell him.

“Oh, I know we will,” he says, taking another step toward
me. There’s barely an inch of space between us. My every sense is bombarded
with his powerful presence. I’m speechless as he tucks a strand of hair behind
my ear and lowers those perfect lips toward mine. I feel my face lifting to
his, seeking it out of its own accord. I’m trembling before him, eager and
ready. But then, just before he brushes those sweet lips against mine, he
stops.

“See?” he growls, his green eyes searing into mine. “You
can’t help yourself.”

“Screw you, Brooks,” I grumble, pushing roughly against his
chest. I mean to push him away, but of course his bulky body doesn’t budge. I’m
the one who’s forced to take a staggering step backward to regain my
stiletto-hampered balance. My cheeks are bright red as Brooks looks on with
amusement.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Red,” he tells me. “We’re just having
a little fun, you and me. Ever heard of fun?”

“I’m not sure we have the same definition of the word,” I
reply.

“Guess we’ll find out,” he says, taking a deep swig of his
Budweiser. “I, for one, can’t fucking wait.”

“Brooks,” Tiberi calls from across the bar, “Come on
outside, man. The Wraiths are here. I want you to meet everyone.”

As Brooks strides toward the door, I realize that I’m alone
with the rest of the women. Kassie and Kelly sit with the gorgeous brunette
bartender while the other three hold down their end of the bar. All six look
between me and Brooks’ retreating form with piqued curiosity.

“You know you’re allowed to tell him to go fuck himself,
right?” Kelly asks.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble, sitting down at the bar beside them.

“I mean, you’re a grown woman, do what you like,” Kassie
shrugs. “We just don’t want you getting in over your head.”

“What, don’t think I could handle someone like him?” I ask.

“I don’t know anyone who could handle someone like him,”
laughs the bartender, “I’m Dani, by the way,” she says.

“Dani’s seen more of Brooks than any of us,” Kassie says.
“She’s the only one here all the time while the guys are working. And, more
importantly, drinking.”

“Well, that’s a bunch of bullshit,” whines the busty blonde
down the bar.

“Dani may be slinging them drinks, but we’re the ones
holding down the fort,” sniffs the skinny brunette. “We’ve got dibs.”

“If by ‘holding down the fort’ you mean desperately vying to
be someone’s old lady,” Dani says, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Kassie smiles at me, “‘Old lady’ is a term of
endearment, here. The highest compliment. It’s like being a member’s wife, even
if you’re not technically married.”

“Are you guys married to your, uh, old men?” I ask Kelly and
Kassie, “To Declan and Leo, I mean?”

“Not yet,” Kelly smiles. “The legal stuff is not as much of
a priority, in this world. In case you couldn’t guess. Some members have
civilian wives that stay clear of club business altogether, but we’re sort of a
different breed.”

“It can actually be safer not to make it legal sometimes,”
Kassie puts in.

“Safer?” I ask, pouncing on her slip of the tongue.

The women all trade terse glances, wondering how much they
can tell me about the way things go around here. Kassie finally says, “MC’s
aren’t without their scrapes with the law, Keira. It’s usually nothing serious,
but it helps to be unattached—legally—when it happens.”

I think about everything I’ve read concerning the Wraiths
and the Nine. “Nothing serious” doesn’t really apply to their legal troubles.
Between the gang in-fighting, manslaughter investigations, petty crime, and
drug running these clubs have racked up quite the criminal records over their
histories. Of course, they’ve never been found seriously guilty of anything,
and all charges have been settled or dropped. I’ll need new dirt if I’m going
to pin anything real on these guys.

Just as I’m about to press the topic further, a horde of
leather-clad men come storming into the bar, laughing and shouting. Their
numbers have doubled, and I see why in a moment. A new sigil appears among the
Dante’s Nine dice: a ghoulish, eerie portrait of a ghostly woman. The Las Vegas
Chapter of the Devil’s Wraiths MC has arrived. 

At the head of the pack are the president and VP of the
Wraiths, Mac Donnelly and Leo Bane. Mac is even spookier in real life, with his
shock of white hair and ruthless eyes. For his part, Leo looks like a ferocious
big cat—his jet-black hair and golden eyes are so striking they’re almost
otherworldly. Flanking Mac and Leo are the barrel-chested Robert “Bear”
Watkins, the would-be farm boy Billy “Buck” Larson, the ginger pyromaniac
Anthony “Sparky” Rosetta, and the smart one of the bunch, David “Dewey”
Mackenzie. Bringing up the rear are the slick, slender Phil “Fiver” Webb and a
blonde, clean-cut younger guy who I know to be Emmett “Tyke” Bronson.

The gang’s all here. Or rather, the gangs are
both
here. I’m surrounded
by dangerous, potentially armed men—and suddenly this little undercover sting
doesn’t seem like a foolproof idea after all. I clutch my handbag—and concealed
weapon within—a little tighter to my side.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Declan shouts, gesturing to
the fully stocked bar. “Have at it, gentlemen!”

The brothers surge forward, descending on the plentiful
booze, and I shrink against the bar to stay out of their way. The three women
at the end of the bar fan out to meet them, draping bare limbs across smooth
leather cuts. I avert my gaze from their wanton displays, eager to keep a low
profile. But as discreet as I try to be, the sight of a new girl in the clubs’
midst does not go unnoticed for long.

“Well, howdy,” the one called Buck grins, sidling up next to
me. “You a new sweet butt or something, baby?”

“I’m sorry?” I say coldly, cocking an eyebrow at the hick. I
distrust him on sight, and put up my guard immediately.

“Sweet butts are like club groupies,” Kelly explains,
pressing herself between me and Buck, “And no. She’s not. This is Keira, she
works with me and Kassie.”

“Keira, huh?” says the burly Bear, wedging himself in next
to us. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Actually, she prefers to be called Red,” I hear Brooks say from
behind me. I look over my shoulder just in time to see his massive form step up
behind me. He closes the space between our bodies, his hard chest pressing
against my back. The second he lays his hands on my hips from behind, the
ravenous Wraiths step back.

“Well, Red,” Bear grins, snatching a beer off the bar and
dragging Buck away, “you take good care of Brooks, here. It’s his party after
all.”

“I’m not here take care of—” I start, but Brooks leans down
and whispers harshly in my ear, cutting me off.

“You want to get passed around from brother to brother all
night?” he growls. “Or would you prefer to leave here in one piece?”

“I’m capable of looking out for myself,” I inform him,
whispering so only he can hear. “I don’t need you to be my bodyguard.”

“Maybe you’d be OK at some college bar or frat house,”
Brooks shoots back, “but this is an MC clubhouse, baby. You’re no one’s old
lady, and that means you’re fair game.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I scoff.

“That’s the truth of it,” Brooks insists, “Stick with me
tonight, Red.”

“You’re just trying to claim me for yourself,” I shoot back.

“Yes,” he growls, cupping my chin and forcing me to meet his
gaze, “I am. And even if you won’t admit it, I know you want me to. Denying
that won’t make it any less true, babe.”

I stare up at him and know at once that he’s right. I do
need protection here. These men aren’t concerned with flirtation and courtship.
They don’t ask for permission or wait to take what they want. They’re
monsters...so I might as well stick with the monster I actually find
attractive. Even if he
is
crazy intimidating.

“All right,” I finally say, laying a hand on his hard chest,
“you’re my watch dog for the night, then.”

“I’m your man for the night,” he corrects me, catching my
hand in his and pulling me tightly against him.

“That doesn’t mean I’m just going to drop my panties,” I
inform him. But my breathless voice gives me away at once.

“Why deny yourself the thing you want?” he asks, looping his
arms around the small of my back. My head is swimming with the closeness of
him.

I’m so lost in those green eyes that I almost give him an
honest answer: Because I’m a federal agent looking to take your asses down, you
gorgeous fucking specimen of a man. And I doubt my boss would approve of the
fuck first, ask questions later tactic. But now that I think of it...getting
closer to Brooks means getting more access to the clubs. Maybe letting myself
have a little fun with him would be
good
for the case...

“What’s this?” I hear a low voice remark. I tear my gaze away
from Brooks and find myself staring at a pair of golden eyes. We’ve been joined
at the bar by Leo and Kelly, as well as Dec and Kassie. All paired off, as it
were. The Devil’s Wraiths VP looks between Brooks and I, clearly satisfied with
the match.