Author: Jaci Burton

“That could be PR and nothing more,” Jessie argued. “You know how that goes with biker gangs. The same could be said of the Hells Angels, and they do more good things than bad. Sometimes the law spins things their way to make bikers look bad.”

“True enough. But what we need to find out is if their gang is a front for a group of survivalists who are buying and stockpiling illegal arms. We know for sure there are illegal arms shipments coming into this area, and intelligence says the arms are connected to Crush’s gang somehow. So let’s meet up with them and see for ourselves what side of the law the Devil’s Skulls are straddling.”

She nodded. That made sense, though her interactions with the Devil’s Skulls had only been positive. Crush and Rex had been good to her, had helped her out when she’d desperately needed it.

Though that didn’t mean they weren’t the bad guys, and it was important she remember that. She had to keep an open mind, not be too trusting or too wary.

Diaz had his way of doing things. She had hers. Perhaps the mission would benefit from the two different approaches. She supposed that remained to be seen.

They finished eating and got on their bikes again, heading up north the last couple of hours into Fayetteville. The rally was already underway. Over thirty thousand bikers were expected in for the weekend’s festivities. The roads were crowded with motorcycles already and Jessie thrilled to be surrounded by her fellow bikers. Alone and on the streets at fifteen, starving and desperate, she’d never foreseen this kind of future for herself. Thanks to Mac and Grange and the Wild Riders, she had an exciting life ahead of her, and now she had her first assignment as a government agent.

Who would have thought that could happen, when she could have ended up dead, or in jail—or even worse, if she’d stayed at home with her mother?

It was too early to check in to the hotel rooms Grange had managed to wrangle on their behalf, so they hit the main drag first. Bikes lined both sides of the street, all parked in neat rows. Bikers walked along, watching other bikers ride up and down the road. People waved and checked out the custom bikes. It was like a circus or party atmosphere.

Jessie loved bike rallies, never missed an opportunity to come to one. She always met new people or caught up with old friends. This one would be even more exciting because she was working—on a case. She couldn’t help the tiny shiver of excitement skittering down her spine. She felt like Bond, Jane Bond, secret agent girl.

At a stoplight, she pulled up alongside Diaz, with Spence on her other side.

“You’re our eyes here,” Diaz said to her. “Since you’ve met him, you’ll be the primary lookout for Crush and his gang. Signal if you spot them.”

She nodded and they took off when the light turned green, cruising through the town, blending in with everyone else as if they were just another couple of bikers checking out the action. Vendors here and there, lots to see and do, which was great, since no one paid any attention to them. They could get lost in a massive crowd like this, gawk as much as they wanted, and search for Crush.

By the time they had ridden for two hours, it was obvious Crush and the Skulls weren’t there. They found a place to park at the top of the hill near the beer garden and went in for a cold drink.

“You sure you didn’t spot him?” Spence asked.

Jessie shook her head. “They wear distinctive patches, and a lot of them have special jackets with their gang symbol on the back. Skulls with devil horns. You can’t miss them.”

“Rally starts today,” Diaz said. “Maybe they aren’t coming.”

“He’s coming,” Jessie said, propping her feet up on the vacant chair at their table. “He asked me if I’d be here.”

Diaz frowned. “When?”

“That day he rescued my bike. We stopped and ate together, remember? I told him I was on my way back home after a bike rally, and he told me about this one in Fayetteville because it was near where he lived. He gave me the details on location, what went down around here, and what time of year it was, then asked if I’d come. I told him I would. So I assumed his gang would be here, especially since this is Devil’s Skulls territory. Trust me, he’ll be here.”

“He’d better, or this will be one short assignment.”

“We could always head into the hills and look for them,” Spence suggested.

Diaz nodded. “We’ll do that if we have to, but I think Jessie meeting up with him should look more like chance than design.”

They sat at the beer tent for a while and nursed a few beers, listened to the band, and watched bikes cruise down the main drag. Jessie focused on keeping watch for Crush or anyone else wearing the Devil’s Skulls insignia.

After a couple of hours they’d seen nothing, and it was getting late. They got up and did a bit of walking, venturing into the main activity area, into the buildings and tents, hoping to find Crush there. He wasn’t.

“Let’s go,” Diaz said. “We’ll grab our bikes and take another ride around and see if we can spot them. Maybe they’re all parked somewhere else.”

They looked everywhere, then swung back around and rode the main streets again, but finally Diaz called it quits and they headed to the hotel where they’d made reservations and checked in. As they walked down the hallway toward their rooms, Jessie’s stomach gnawed with disappointment.

Her first day of her first assignment and absolutely nothing had happened.

She reached her door and turned to the two of them. “You want to get something to eat?”

Spence shook his head. “I’m going to stow my stuff, then head back to one of the bars on the main drag and keep watch for any of the Skulls.”

“I’m going to do some research into their gang, so I’ll stay here,” Diaz said. “Jess, you can go with him if you want.”

Research? What kind of research was Diaz going to do in his room?

“I’m tired. I think I’ll just hang here,” she said.

Spence nodded and moved down the hall to his room while Diaz unlocked the door across the hall from hers.

Jessie went into her room and closed the door, quickly unpacking her things. She sat on the bed, staring out the window. Pent-up anxiety kept her from relaxing.

It was early. She had nothing to do. She needed some action.

Research. That’s what she needed to do, find out what kind of research Diaz was doing. She picked up the phone, called down to the hotel restaurant and ordered two sandwiches, then took a quick shower and changed clothes.

Thirty minutes later she stood in front of Diaz’s door with a bag of sandwiches and sodas. She raised her hand to knock, then paused.

What if he had a girlfriend in this town and he’d just made up the research excuse so he could be alone with her?

No. That was stupid. Why would he lie? Because they were supposed to be working and he was goofing off instead? What difference would that make? If Diaz wanted to get laid, he’d just say so. Wouldn’t he?

Her stomach panged at the thought. Had to be hunger. What right did she have to be jealous? She had no claim on Diaz. They didn’t even have a relationship. They had . . . nothing.

He was definitely researching. But what? And how?

She meant to find out. Besides, she’d brought him dinner, a legitimate excuse for knocking on his door.

Oh, quit debating and knock, dumbass.

She rapped three times, hoping like hell some half-naked woman didn’t answer. Her instincts were usually right. Diaz would be working, not screwing some biker babe.

She’d hate for this to be the first time she was wrong about something.

THREE

DIAZ CURSED WHEN HE HEARD THE KNOCK AT THE DOOR. HE pushed back from the too-small desk, cursed again when he bumped his leg, and hobbled to the door, mentally letting loose another string of obscenities when he saw who it was through the peep-hole.

Jessie.

He unlocked the dead bolt and pulled the door open.

“What?”

She arched a brow. “Wow, you’re grumpy. Do you need a nap?”

“No. Just some solitude.”

“Too bad.” She slid her way past, carrying a bag and two cans of soda, which she put on the nightstand next to his bed. “I brought dinner, figuring you wouldn’t order anything since you had some sort of research to do.”

She kicked off her sandals and climbed onto his bed, pulling one of the pillows out from the bedspread and tucking it behind her back. “Hope you like turkey.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Weren’t you listening? I brought dinner.” She opened the bag and laid two sandwiches on the nightstand, then popped open the top of one of the soda cans. “I’ll take care of setting things up, so, don’t let me disturb you.”

Too late. One look at her and he was distracted. One whiff of her as she passed by, her breasts brushing his chest, and he was definitely disturbed. Deeply, profoundly disturbed. She smelled like sunshine, outdoors, and Jessie. He wanted to lick her neck.

How the hell was he supposed to work with her in the room?

“Are you hungry yet?” she asked.

Yeah, he was hungry all right. But not for a turkey sandwich. “No.”

“Is that a laptop?”

He took the chair and resumed his spot at the desk again. “Master of the obvious, aren’t you.”

“Smartass. I didn’t know you brought one. What are you doing?”

“I told you. Research.”

She slid off the bed and came up behind him. He tried not to breathe her in, but he couldn’t avoid it. The scent of her was right there, as was her body as she leaned over him.

“The Devil’s Skulls have a website?”

“Yeah,” he managed, though he wasn’t concentrating on the screen anymore. “Most of the prominent groups have their own websites so they can show off pictures, list their activities and where they’re going to be. I figured if the Skulls were big enough, they would, too.”

“Show me.”

He flipped through the pages of the website, showing her pictures of bike rallies and fund-raisers, lists of their officers and members, some of the charities they gave to.

“Do they have a calendar of events?”

“Yeah.” He clicked on it. “It brings up the current month as well as future months and what’s happening.”

“It says they’re going to be at the rally.”

“Yup.”

“Hmm. Wonder why they weren’t there today?”

“No clue.”

She laid her hand on his shoulder, leaned farther in, her breasts pillowed against his back. For the love of God, the government could use her as a torture device. She could break a man in less than ten minutes by rubbing her breasts across his back. His balls were already twisting up in a knot.

Diaz always prided himself on his self-discipline. Torture him? Fine. He could handle it. He had a high threshold for pain, could tune it out and focus inward on something else. There wasn’t much that could faze him once he decided to power his concentration on the task at hand.

He tried that now, focusing his attention on the computer screen, trying to cull as much information as he could about the Skulls so they could come into the group well informed.

It wasn’t working. Jessie was devastating to his senses, and the information on the laptop was a total blur.

“Well, this is surprising,” she whispered, her breath warm against his neck.

“What is?” He hoped he hadn’t missed critical information. How would he explain something right in front of him? I’m sorry but your breasts distracted me?

“You. A laptop. I never took you for an Internet geek. You’re always outside, riding, or working on the bikes. You never spend time in the tech room.”

“You know very little about me, Jessie.”