A shake of her head. “We made sure the street was secure. I had a transmitter in my ear. Malik did not fire those blanks until he was given the all-clear.”

  She’d what?

  She reached into the front pocket of her black pants and pulled out a small device. Looked like a super, super tiny ear bud. “Gray told us when everyone was clear. We had some Feds out there, dressed in plainclothes, but those were all people he trusts implicitly. The street was secure.”

  Bullshit. “And the bikers who could have started shooting? Did he trust them implicitly? Is that the story you’re spinning right now?”

  “Most of them had moved out of range. A few lingered, but those were people who were loyal to you. And you gave the signal for them to stand down.”

  Tension knifed through him.

  Sighing. She tucked the earpiece back into the pocket of her pants. Then she lifted her hand, and she fluttered her fingers. Almost looked like a “come here” gesture.

  It wasn’t.

  “Wait,” she said. She fluttered again. “Wait.” A nod. “As soon as you gave the order, I knew that it was time. Gray knew, too. He was there, watching in the shadows. When he saw you sign, that was when he gave the order for Malik to shoot the blanks.”

  Check. The blanks. “You acted like you didn’t know sign language. When I made that motion, you literally asked me if I was telling Javion to come closer.” The woman had done recon work—he would bet his life she knew plenty about Javion. And about everyone else in the inner circle of the Night Strikers.

  “Sorry. That was for show. You know sign language,” she said. “So I made it a point to know it, too.”

  She would have needed a whole lot of time to learn sign language. He had the feeling that when she told him she knew sign language, Agnes wasn’t just talking about a few gestures. “Gray told you.” Fuck. Was nothing sacred these days?

  “I’ve been…watching you for a bit,” she confessed.

  Well, hell.

  “I saw when you’d use it. Don’t worry, most people would miss it. I just made a point of studying you closely.”

  He hadn’t been aware that he’d been under surveillance. “Gray doesn’t trust me these days? He’s sent Feds in to keep an eye on me? How the hell long has this been happening?” And why didn’t I see you? He was usually good at spotting watchers. Was he slipping? Losing his edge because he’d been in this mess for far too long?

  She nibbled on her lower lip. That ever-so-delicious lower lip. Then, “Gray didn’t know what I was doing.” A miserable whisper. “I was watching you on my own time.”

  Was he supposed to be flattered? Or super worried? “You watched me? And you decided to teach yourself sign language?”

  “I’m teaching it to myself now. Not like I’m completely fluent. I’m learning. Gray doesn’t know about that, either.”

  “I didn’t spot you tailing me.” That bothered him.

  “I wasn’t very close. I know to keep my distance. A good watcher can spy from a distance.” She exhaled on a soft sigh. “I’m good at not being seen when I don’t want to be.”

  Uh, huh. Cass finally stepped away from the thin door. He closed in on her with slow steps. “Someone has been a naughty FBI agent.”

  “Totally, you should spank me.”

  What?

  Her eyes closed. “Forget I said that.”

  Never in a million years. The woman confused—and aroused—the hell out of him. “Who are you?”

  Her eyes opened. “I’m Agnes Quinn. I…say kinda crazy, outlandish things when I’m nervous. I had this FBI shrink once who told me that it was a shielding technique.” She remained on the bed. “It was after my very first officer-involved shooting. A man had a put a gun to his pregnant wife’s stomach. He’d been screaming and raging, saying the kid wasn’t his and that he wasn’t going to put up with a cheating whore any longer. I knew he was going to kill her and the baby. I demanded he drop the gun. I yelled it three times. Three times. He didn’t comply. And he was going to pull the trigger.” An exhale. “I shot him in the leg. That got him to let her go. But then he raised the gun and aimed it at me as he screamed and screamed, and—when I fired a second time, I hit him in the heart.”

  Shit. He stopped advancing toward her. Halfway between the door and the bed. He just stared down at her, shaking his head. “So you look delicate, but you’re very clearly not.”

  “She raged at me. The wife, I mean. She screamed that I’d left her baby without a father. I did, of course, but…I kinda thought it was more important that the wife and the baby got to live. That I got to live, too. I was a big proponent of me living.” A roll of one shoulder. “So when I was talking to the shrink—see, you have to be cleared by the FBI shrink after a shooting. You don’t just get to head straight back into active duty. She told me that I used humor and flippant statements as defensive and shielding mechanisms. She explained that I tend to say outlandish things to redirect.” A nod. “Guilty as charged. I do that.”

  He could see that. “You’re sharing an awful lot with me.”

  “Yes, well, considering that I have to trust you with my life for the foreseeable future, I figured a bit of sharing was necessary. Especially since we began our relationship with me…lying to you.” Now her shoulders sagged. “Pretty sure you are going to be pissed.”

  “Our relationship?”

  “Well, yes, we have one now, don’t we? At least, I’m about ninety-nine percent certain you are going to declare me as your lady to the members of your MC. You’re going to take me with you when we leave this motel. Where you go, I go. I’ll be your ride-or-die. That whole situation is what we’ve got going, right?”

  His back teeth had clenched. “Tell me about your lie,” he bit out.

  “I will but, promise you won’t be furious?”

  “You just said I’d be pissed.”

  “Yes. I did.” A quick nod. “But I think, with you, there is a difference between being pissed and being furious.” Her gaze searched his. “I think when you’re pissed, you’re scary. Intimidating. You’ll make me feel super, super horrible.”

  He waited.

  “But when you’re furious, I suspect that is something quite different. I think that when a real rage takes you, it’s like the devil walks on the earth.”

  His whole body tightened.

  “So just promise you won’t be furious. Try to see things from my point of view, would you?”

  He would make no promises. “You lied to me.”

  “Know what? Lie might just be too strong of a word. How about…I misled you. Misled. I began our relationship by misleading you. Technically, I’ve told zero lies to you.” A thoughtful hesitation. “Yet. Maybe. Honestly, I can’t remember every single word I said to you…so…”

  Enough of this bullshit. She wasn’t going to spin her way into his life, throw him off guard, charm him, alarm him, and get him twisted into a million knots. He finished stalking toward the bed. Stopped when he was inches away from her.

  He would not think of how easy it would be to wreck the bed. With Agnes. “How about you vow to always tell me zero lies from here on out?”

  Her pretty lips pursed. “I don’t like to make promises I might not be able to keep.”

  What? His hands went to his hips as he glowered at her. “Agnes.”

  “You’re really sexy when you say my name. Full disclosure, I always hated my name. Makes me sound like a maidenly aunt, and FYI, I actually did get the name from my maiden aunt. Though, if you listen to the stories, she was quite the partier back in the day.”

  His temples were throbbing. It had been a helluva night, and he’d just discovered that Agnes lacked the ability to answer a question simply. “The idea of spanking you holds definite appeal.”

  “Glad we’re both into that.”

  A muscle flexed along his jaw.

  “Sorry.” Quiet. “That defense mechanism thing again.” She huffed out a breath. “I deliberately sought you out.”

  Apparently, she’d also deliberately and secretly stalked him.

  Her hands pressed against the bedding near her. “Once I made the connection between the leader of the Night Strikers being secretly related to my boss, I knew…I knew there had to be a lot more to you than met the eye. Sure, you seemed to be the big, bad guy.”

  “I am the big, bad guy.” He gave nightmares to most of the world. There was no pretending on that point. He’d been born for the Night Striker MC. And, eventually, he’d taken leadership a bloody battle that had left a man dead.

  Two men, actually.

  She frowned at him. “You’re working undercover. You need to be honest with me. I’m being honest with you.”

  He leaned toward her. Put one hand on either side of the bed. The old, sagging mattress dipped even more. “You think I’m some true-blue hero pretending to be MC? You think I’m playing by the rules and rolling over to deliver dirt to the Feds?”

  Her gaze searched his. “Yes.”

  He laughed. In her face. Sorry. That was probably rude. His mother would have been horrified. Then again, his mother had been dead for a long time. “I thought you were way better at profiling.”

  “Tell me how I’m wrong.”

  He’d rather kiss her. Maybe spank her. Definitely fuck her. But…no. Not happening. Because he’d fucked her before, then a jackass had tried to kill her.

  And…when Cass had fucked her before…

  I let my guard slip. I wanted her too much. “Tell me why you’re using me.” Anger rumbled in the words. He didn’t like being used. Not even when the user came in such a tempting package.

  “I was using you.” A blunt admission. “I’m sorry.”

  Well, damn. “Why?”

  She bit her lower lip. His right hand flew up, and he lightly pressed on that lower lip. “Don’t.” Because when she bit, she made him want to bite, too.

  She stopped biting her lower lip. Her tongue snaked out. Lightly touched the tip of his finger. Her eyes widened in horror. “I did not mean to do that.” Her breath blew over his finger.

  His eager dick was glad she had licked him. But his dick needed to calm the hell down. His hand moved to curl under her jaw. “Why were you using me?” He would get a straight answer from her.

  “Because I need you to help me kill a man.” A thoughtful pause. “At least one man, but maybe two.”

  Chapter Ten

  The bed was uncomfortable. Lumpy. Saggy. It smelled faintly of old cigarettes. No bedbugs, though. Agnes was very happy that her fast and frantic search for bedbugs had yielded no results.

  The room was dark. Almost pitch black, even though it was daytime. The lone window in the little room had been covered by blinds and by what had to be the thickest, roughest curtains she’d even touched in her life. They’d felt more like cardboard than fabric.

  She was supposed to be sleeping. Cass had given that order in his gruff-as-hell voice. And then he’d…

  Spread out on the floor.

  The floor, not the bed.

  She’d told him that she wanted to kill a man. Potentially, two men, and he’d responded by telling her to get her ass to sleep. She’d closed the cardboard curtains because she could not sleep with any light streaming at her, and he’d hunkered down on the floor. The floor.

  The bed was bad, but the floor had to be a million times worse. “There’s room up here,” she mumbled into the silence that had stretched and stretched.

  He didn’t speak.

  She rolled onto her side. Inch-wormed her way to the edge of the bed so she could try peering down at him. “Did you hear me?”

  Nothing.

  She reached out her hand and poked at him. Her poking finger touched what felt like his shoulder. “There is room up here with me. You can sleep in the bed.” She waited a beat. “With me.” Duh, Agnes. It’s obvious you meant he could sleep in the bed with you.

  But he didn’t respond.

  She poked him again. “Cass?”

  A long sigh.

  Her lashes fluttered. “Were you sleeping?” No way. Not on the floor. Not so quickly. Not when the adrenaline from the night’s events had to be quaking through his veins. It was certainly quaking through her veins. She tipped a little closer to the edge of the bed.

  He was on the floor, between her and the door. The bed was shoved up against the wall with the window.

  “If I was sleeping,” came his rasping response, “then I am certainly not sleeping any longer, am I? Because you keep poking at me. Literally, poking me.”

  Yes, guilty. “I’m not a murderer.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “You mean you don’t just want me to help you kill for shits and giggles?”

  Ah, there it was. She’d seen the anger flash in his eyes when she’d made her little confession earlier. That had been right before he told her to get her ass in bed and sleep.

  “You fucked me because you wanted me to do your dirty work for you.” Anger definitely burned in every single word from Cass. Maybe not just anger. Maybe he was skating toward rage. “I don’t like being used, Agnes.”

  “Pretty sure most people don’t like being used. Not like it’s one of my favorite things.” She sucked in a breath. “I fucked you because I wanted you.”

  “Liar.” Almost a caress. If angry accusations of lying could be considered a caress. Oddly enough, from him, that was exactly what the single word had sounded like. A tender caress. An endearment, an⁠—

  Agnes shut off the thought. “You think I faked my response to you? Granted, I do have some fair acting talent, I thought that was on display during my dramatic performance at The Bottomless Pit. But I did not fake being turned on with you. And I certainly didn’t fake all of those orgasms.” Now she was getting angry, too. “I hadn’t been with anyone since Max died. You are the first person who made me yearn. Who made me want to let go and be with a lover again. So don’t think I faked anything. After years of not feeling anything at all, my body basically erupted for you. No faking involved. Just feeling so much that I couldn’t control myself.” She snatched back her poking finger. The better to grip the side of the bed.

  “Who. The fuck. Is. Max?”

  She blinked in the darkness. “He was my boyfriend. He, um, we were high school sweethearts.” His image flashed in her mind. His curly hair. The dimples that appeared when he smiled, and Max had always been smiling. Everyone had loved him. He’d been so kind and easy going. He’d made the world a better place by being in it and then…

  Then he hadn’t been in it. He’d been gone. She’d been in the hospital bed, crying for him.

  “We went to college together,” she continued. She’d moved her body so that she clung to the edge of the bed. She was about to practically fall on Cass. Why am I trying to get so close to him? Her fingers dug into the mattress. “Austin, Texas,” she whispered. “That’s where we were from. That’s where we planned to raise our future family one day.” They’d had so many dreams. “And that’s where, one summer night, when we were coming home late from a party…” Right after Max proposed and slid a ring on my finger. “It was where we were attacked. The man on the motorcycle circled around us. Over and over again. Riding a big, black bike. The engine howling and growling. A black helmet and visor covered his head and face. He jumped off the bike and came slashing at us with his knife.”

  “Fuck.”

  Yes, yes, fuck.

  “That’s why you have those scars on your stomach,” Cass said. His voice was thick and hard.

  She swallowed. “That’s why I have those scars on my stomach.” It could have been worse for her. It should have been. “He came at me.” Agnes would never, ever forget that terrible moment. “He was slicing directly at me. Saying he was going to cut up the pretty girl.” I will always remember his voice. Just as she would always remember the tattoo that she’d seen peeking at her on his wrist. That lone streetlight had hit it—and him—just right. “Max jumped in front of me. He fought with the attacker but…” Run, Agnes. Run! Her eyes squeezed shut. “There was a lot of blood. Max went down. I couldn’t get away. The attacker was driving the knife into me, over and over, and Max was on the ground beside me. I thought we were both going to die right then and there.”

  Silence.

  Her eyes opened. But she still didn’t see anything but the darkness.

  The silence stretched. Slowly, she became aware of faint sounds, from outside the room. The distant honk of a car. The occasional sharp cry of a bird. The growl of an engine, one that was quickly cut off.

  “I woke up in the hospital. Some Good Samaritan had found Max and me in the street, where the attacker had left us.”

  She heard a squeak and rattle beyond the motel room door. Maybe…maybe a cleaning cart outside. Already?

  The squeak stopped.

  “I woke up,” she said, picking up the story and trying to ignore the pain that pierced through her with the memories. “But Max never did. He died protecting me. And ever since then⁠—”

  “All you’ve wanted to do is get revenge. To send the bastard who hurt him and you to hell.”

  Yes, that summed things up nicely. “Glad you understand.”

  “Aren’t Feds supposed to put bad guys in jail?”

  They were.

  “But you didn’t ask me to help you lock him away. You said you wanted to kill him.”

  She blinked quickly because tears had filled her eyes. You weren’t there that night. You didn’t hear me screaming and begging him to stop. You didn’t hear him laughing. You didn’t see him kick Max as he was bleeding out and then reach down and deliberately slit Max’s throat even as I reached out to the man I loved…

  Right before the bastard came at me again.

  “You don’t want him locked up. You want him dead.”

  She wanted him in the ground. Him and his accomplice. Because I remember the bastard making a call. As he walked away, he’d flipped up his visor. I’d seen his hand lift. He’d had a phone and he said… “I got a redhead. She’s bleeding out behind me.”

  “You want him to die, don’t you, Agnes? You don’t want to catch him and put him in prison.”

 

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