Troubled Son: Savage Sons MC Romance (5 page)

Max looked at Tombley as if she were puzzled. "What do you mean?"

I leaned forward, having decided that I was going to see how tough this chick was. "You don't look the part."

She laughed, as if what I'd said was ridiculous. "Of course I don't."

"Sweetheart, you may think this is a big fucking joke, but I can tell you that the Savage Sons will eat you alive if you go waltzing in there acting like a fuckin' debutante with a silver spoon up her ass."

Max leaned in closer to me and her voice dropped into a low, sexy drawl. "I ain't a fuckin' debutante, cowboy. And my ass is none of your concern."

I looked over at Tombley, and he sat back in his chair, arms crossed and a smile on his face. "Somethin' funny, Tombley? She's gonna get us both killed if she can't pull this off."

Jeff nodded, acknowledging the truth of what I'd said. "You're right, and Max knows just how high the stakes are. We have a lot of work to do, and I'm going to need your help earlier than I expected."

Max fixed her eyes back on mine, and I realized that hers were the most unusual color I'd ever seen -- the rich color of Jack Daniels with flecks of green throughout.

"Jeff thinks it's going to take a little work to make me look the part and be able to sound and act like your old lady. Since it's both our lives on the line, will you help me? I'll work hard and I won't let you down. That's my promise."

I looked at her, sizing her up, seeing how she'd react if I said nothing. She simply looked back, no expression on her face, patiently waiting for my response.

"You got a long way to go, lady. You ain't gonna like the way these guys treat you, and you ain't gonna like the way I treat you when we're with 'em. You're gonna have to see a bunch of shit you don't wanna see, and you're gonna have to put up with a lotta shit that makes your blood boil. You show one little bit of a sign that you think you're too good for these folks, and they'll bounce you out on your ass faster than you can believe, even if you are supposed to be my old lady."

"Understood."

"And I want the final say on if and when we move forward. You're not ready until I say you're ready. Got it? Both of you?"

Jeff and Max both agreed.

"You have a budget for clothes, right?" I asked Tombley.

"We do. I figured that we can't exactly put things on the Bureau's credit card, so I've requisitioned some cash. Max will sign for it tomorrow, and if you can take her shopping, we'd sure appreciate it."

I wasn't about to let this girl think that she'd be dragging me all over town looking for a purse to match her shoes. I looked at her hard and leaned in a bit. "I'll take you out, but you have to agree to a few things."

"Okay."

"I choose the places, and I choose the clothes. You may not like them, but you'll wear them."

Max sat up straighter. "I'm certainly interested in your input, Moses, but..."

"No buts. You wear what I pick out, or there's no case."

Max looked at Tombley, eyes pleading for him to back her up.

"Max, Moses knows what's going to fly with his crew. I wouldn't try to tell him what's going to look authentic to his guys."

"Fine. Your show," she said evenly.

I was a little surprised that she didn't put up more of a fight, and I fought a smile as I thought about the outfits I would put her in. She might feel differently tomorrow, but her layers of clothes that covered her from head to toe weren't going to cut it with the Sons. I was looking forward to seeing what this princess would look like in tight jeans and a Sons tank top -- maybe a size too small. I felt like the room had just gotten a little warmer, and I changed the subject.

"Ever been on a bike?"

Max brightened up and flashed that smile at me again. "Jeff asked me the same thing. I haven't, but I'm looking forward to it! I'm sure it won't take me long to learn how to ride."

I shook my head and laughed. "Oh, you ain't gonna be riding alone. You're gonna be behind me on my bike. There's no way on earth you can learn to handle a bike convincingly in a week. You're gonna be my old lady, and when we pull in with you on my bike behind me, they'll believe it. Even that's gonna take some practice though. We'll start tomorrow."

"Fine."

She was a cool customer. No temper, all business. That was a good sign.

"I have a couple of appointments tomorrow. Can you be ready around 3? We can go for a ride and get you some clothes."

Max looked at Jeff and he confirmed that she could shift her schedule to meet then.

"After this evening's meeting, we don't want you in the office anymore, Max," Jeff said. "We have a couple of spots -- places we've rented where you can meet with the guys who will run the undercover op, but now that you've met Moses, we can't take the chance of someone seeing you walk into a federal building."

"Makes sense," Max agreed. She looked at me. "Where do you want to meet?"

I made plans to pick her up at her apartment. Since she was new in town, there was no way that anyone would know who she was and think it was strange to see me there.

"One more thing, both of you." Jeff looked from me to her and back at me again. "The team and I have decided that it's best if the two of you cohabitate during this operation. You can stay at Moses' house or at the clubhouse, but there's no way that your old lady would be living in a fancy new apartment in a ritzy shopping district. That make sense?"

I shook my head. I should have known this fucker would throw me a curve. I didn't want anyone living with me, not at the clubhouse, and sure as shit not at my house. Max looked as happy as I was...which was not at all.

"Look, I don't think that's gonna work," I started.

Tombley shrugged. "I know it's going to be weird at first, but if you think about it, there's no other alternative. You're going to be wearing a wire to meetings in the middle of the night, and if we don't collect and store the evidence properly, then it's no good to us. One of the reasons we're putting Max in is to ensure that the rules of collecting evidence aren't broken."

Max sighed, looking for the first time like she was regretting her involvement in the case. "I'm okay with it, I guess. I'm used to my space, but as long as we can agree not to crowd one another, I'll do it."

I thought about the nights we'd have to spend at the clubhouse, and I decided not to tell Max about the double bed we'd be sharing in a building full of bikers and hookers. "Fine. Let's get it done and end this thing. I ain't used to a bunch of girly shit spread all over my house, but I guess I can suck it up."

Max laughed. "What a romantic way to move in together," she said with a wink at me.

I couldn't help but laugh too. She may or may not work out, but I had to give it to her. She had a pretty good attitude so far. When it came to the Savage Sons, attitude was a start.

Chapter 7

Max

April 2, 2013

I
spent most of the morning lounging in my pajamas, drinking coffee and reading through the files on the members of the Savage Sons. Ho. Ly. Shit. They were nasty folks, every last one of them. Every member -- including the prospects -- had been in trouble with the law at least once, and one of the members had even served time in a federal prison. Drug charges, prostitution, vandalism, failure to pay child support, assault, unlawful possession of firearms...there was even a mail fraud charge against one of the old timers along with an assortment of domestic disputes. I'd spent plenty of time with criminals, but I'd never seen such a comprehensive list of offenses before.

I realized that it was time to get ready for my appointment I'd made at the salon that Tombley's guy had recommended. I looked at myself in the mirror before I left, and I hoped that they wouldn't make me look just awful. I told myself that Moses had nothing to do with my wanting to look halfway decent. I couldn't quite convince myself.

"We certainly have our work cut out for us, don't we?"

I smiled and shrugged my shoulders at the man who faced me, hands on his narrow hips, and a thoughtful frown on his perfect face that had clearly benefitted from excellent skin care. Wait a minute...was he wearing eyeliner?

Hand thrust forward, he walked toward me and waved one of the women over as well. "Ben. I'm going to have the dubious pleasure of turning your gorgeous cut and color into something a little...well..trashier." He shook my hand and put an arm around the tiny elf-like girl who'd joined us. "Moira's gonna tart up your makeup. We'll have you looking like a biker chick in no time."

I shook Ben's hand and stood there while he walked all the way around me and used both hands to pick up my long, thick hair and feel its texture and weight.

He came back around to face me. "The good news is that your hair's healthy and thick, so it'll probably survive what we're going to do to it."

My eyes must have widened in alarm.

"It's only hair, and even if it's a little damaged, it'll grow back. You any good with makeup?"

I was stunned speechless and I just shrugged again.

"No worries," Moira said, putting a reassuring and tiny hand on my arm. "I'll teach you a few tricks. The good thing is that you don't exactly need a light touch for your new look. The blacker, the heavier, and the bolder, the better. It's actually kind of fun."

Her bubbly enthusiasm perked me up a little. "Okay, folks. I'm in your hands. Let's do it."

Ben walked me to the shampoo station. "Don't tell me a thing about why you need your new look. I handle special assignments like yours, but I don't want to know any details." He looked at me and laid his hand on his perfectly stubbled jaw. "I can't have this pretty face messed up, can I?"

I couldn't help but laugh as he got started washing and conditioning my hair.

"I'm thinking heavy highlights -- a little too blond and a little grown out. That okay?"

"You're the expert," I answered. "I just want it back to normal before I have to go see my regular stylist. He'll boot me out of the salon if he sees what you're going to do to his work."

"Oh?" Ben asked theatrically. "A prima donna, is he?"

"A bit," I laughed. "But he's good."

"Clearly," Ben agreed. "Your color's lovely. He knows not to do too much. You're beautifully brightened up without looking overdone. Pretty much the opposite of what you're about to look like."

Since we couldn't really do much in the way of chit-chat, I flipped through a few issues of People magazine while Ben filled my head with foils. After a few eye watering minutes under the dryer, he removed them, rinsed my hair, and led me to his chair.

"Wow." I said, apprehensively. "That's really blonde, and that's a lot of dark roots. You sure about this?"

Ben stood behind me and looked at me in the mirror. "Max, you're not gonna like the way you look when you leave. But it's the look you're supposed to have."

I was silent as he trimmed my hair, giving me slightly uneven long layers and heavier bangs than I'd ever wear. He dried my hair, teased it, and used a week's worth of hairspray.

"Jesus," I said as I stared at my reflection. "I hate it."

Ben looked at me and was clearly preparing to justify his work.

"It's perfect," I told him. "Thanks. I'm looking forward to having you un-do all your hard work as soon as possible."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Will do, honey. It's Moira's turn now. Come see me when you're all finished."

Ben had pointed out Moira across the room, and she waved me toward her station. I sat down, still not used to the reflection that looked back at me.

"So the blonde is kinda fun, huh?" Moira asked cheerfully. "Do you usually wear makeup?" She asked.

"I usually wear a little for work and a little more when I go out. I came bare-faced today since I knew we'd be doing a whole new look."

"Well you don't need much since you're young and pretty."

I typically wasn't a fan of empty flattery, but given what I saw in the mirror, I was going to take it any way I could get it today. "I'm not that far away from thirty," I told her, the apprehension obvious in my voice.

"You're not there yet," she told me with a smile. "Let's get started."

She worked over my entire face, and she'd opened fresh containers of everything she used so that I could take the makeup with me. From poor quality foundation that was a shade too light to cheap, heavy black eyeliner, she filled my head with tips and tricks to make myself look less prosperous and healthy.

"Just remember," she finished up. "Foundation too light and no concealer for those dark circles, and you're sure to look like you've been partying all night. Oh -- and there's nothing we can do about your teeth that won't be permanent. Drink coffee, and don't whiten them again until you're ready to go back to your original look."

I looked at myself and I was both delighted and horrified. She and Ben had done a magnificent job. I looked tired, cheap, and like I was trying too hard. It was absolutely perfect. Ben approved and sent me out the door with air kisses in the direction of both cheeks.