When he guards, p.7
When He Guards, page 7
“Not war.” Cass shook his head. “I’ll just end your ass here and now, unless you call him off.”
She was being followed. Agnes knew she had a tail, mostly because the guy was a piss-poor stalker. She’d caught his image four streets back, reflected in a storefront window. Maybe he thought that, because it was night—just after 10 p.m.—that the darkness hid him.
The fool had clearly forgotten that street lamps existed.
So he tailed her through the city. He annoyed the ever-loving-hell out of her, and she casually put her phone to her ear as she called for her backup.
“He still tailing you?” Malik Jones wanted to know when he picked up the phone on the second ring. They’d chatted before, when she first noticed her unwelcome follower.
“He is indeed,” she confirmed to her primary FBI partner as she stopped at the street corner. “About six-foot-six, two hundred and sixty pounds, shaved head. Bushy beard. Lots of piercings.” As if she hadn’t recognized the jerk from The Bottomless Pit. The attacker who’d thought it would be fun to come up from behind Cass with a knife. Quite obviously, the man preferred attacking from the back.
She figured he was going to try and drive a knife into her spine in the next few moments. He’d been drawing closer and closer to her in the last half hour. Coming in for the kill, are you?
That was fine. While he’d been edging closer to her, Agnes had been setting up a trap for him.
Did the dumbass not get that there was a bar right on the corner that was frequented by cops and Feds? It was her hangout place when she wanted to go and blow off some steam with her friends. She’d been slowly and deliberately leading her stalker straight to that place. The better to surround him.
Well, once she was done with him, anyway.
“My eyes are on you,” Malik told her. “I can see you now. You…and him.”
Ah, steadfast Malik. She did adore her quiet, intense Fed buddy. The man didn’t say much, but he had a core of pure courage. You could always count on Malik. He was very much the true-blue type, much like their boss, Grayson Stone. Defending justice. Protecting innocents.
Following the law.
Malik didn’t bend it occasionally the way she did.
The way she was about to do again.
“Hang back a bit,” she told Malik. “I want a Q&A session with him.”
“You want a what?”
She wanted a chance to grill the prick. But—
“I think he’s making a move,” Malik suddenly groused. “Coming on your left, watch out. Watch—”
She spun around, one hand on the phone, the other clutching her mace. Sure enough, the jerk was running hard and fast at her. He also had a knife gripped in his hand.
Someone was a one-trick pony.
She sprayed her mace, aiming right for his eyes, and he screamed. That scream was loud and desperate, and, instinctively, he dropped the knife as he moved to cover his eyes.
“FBI agent, you asshole,” she snarled at him. “You don’t stalk and attack an FBI agent unless you are looking for a world of pain.”
He blinked over and over as his eyes streamed. The street lamp glowed over him as his lips twisted into a snarl. With a shout, he barreled right at her. He was way bigger than she was. Nearly twice her size, and his bear-like hands grabbed for Agnes.
She stepped to the side. Those teary eyes of his weren’t going to provide him with the best vision. Maybe that was why he didn’t see her leg slide out in a quick glide. Her gliding foot hooked him, and he went crashing down on the pavement before her.
Before he could leap to his feet, she was on him. Agnes shoved her phone into her pocket, and she put her gun to the back of his head. “Freeze.” Then in case he’d somehow missed this ever-so-important point of… “FBI Agent. You just tried to stab an FBI agent!”
Malik would be coming in, despite her polite request for him to hang back a bit. Not like Mr. True Blue would hang back when she’d nearly been stabbed. The Fed and cop hangout was about twenty yards away. She was about to be swarmed as “help” burst out of that bar. But first…
“Asshole, who sent you after me?” Agnes demanded. Like she didn’t know a targeted attack when one came stalking through the dark after her.
His hands slapped onto the pavement. “Cass!”
Her heart just stopped. Pain knifed through her. No way, no way could Cass have done that to her. She’d profiled him. She’d been so sure that he was the one she needed. That she was—
“That prick is gonna pay!” A vow from her would-be attacker.
Her gun pressed harder against him as she tried to make sense of his shout. He was saying Cass had paid him to kill her? No, that could not—
“He’ll pay for fucking me up!”
Oh, wait. Her breath left in a relieved rush.
“He’ll pay because I’ll kill his girlfriend!”
His girlfriend? “Uh, I think you have the wrong idea,” she began. How did one tactfully explain to an attacker that he’d just gone after a one-night stand and not some emotionally involved and invested girlfriend? “Cass won’t give two shits about what happens to me.”
The guy heaved up. His hands had pushed hard against the pavement, and he levered onto his knees. She eased the gun back an inch or two because it wasn’t like she wanted to accidentally shoot him in the head.
Or…not so accidentally do it.
Nope, not me. I’m a good FBI agent.
Even though the jerk had been sneaking up to stab her in the back. Such a dick move.
Footsteps thundered nearby. “Agnes!” Malik shouted.
Right. The cavalry was there. Good guys, at full attention.
“Turn around,” Agnes ordered the perp. “Slowly. And keep your hands up every second.”
Slowly, he turned. He also rose to his feet. Towered over her. As if she’d be intimidated by a guy with constant tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping into his bushy beard.
Malik stopped a few feet away. He had his gun out and aimed. “You good?” he demanded of Agnes.
Not really, she wasn’t. And sometimes, she did get tired of pretending that she was. When I get really tired, I like to go out and have hot hookups with MC leaders.
Nope. Not multiple MC leaders. Just with one.
Cass.
But that would be far too much info for poor Malik, so she simply replied, “Absolutely. I’m good. Always good.”
A phone began to ring.
Some cops wandered out of the hangout bar. They weren’t wearing uniforms, but she could always spot a cop from a mile away. Detectives, with loose coats and wrinkled pants. They stiffened when they saw the scene unfolding, then began to rush toward them.
The phone kept ringing. It was coming from the assailant in front of her. Curious…a call right after he’d been slicing at her with his knife. A knife that was still just a few feet away. “I can’t help but wonder, is that someone calling to confirm the hit? To confirm that little old me is as dead as can be?”
The phone rang again.
Agnes waved toward the perp. “Why don’t you answer that call?”
“You do it, bitch!” he snarled. “You answer it!”
Oh, well, if he was going to give her permission, then she definitely would. “Keep your gun on him, would you, Malik?” As if she had to ask, though. Malik never lowered his guard.
She closed in. She plucked the phone from the pocket of the biker’s battered jacket. She swiped her finger over the screen. Turned it on speaker so they could all hear the conversation. “I’m sorry,” she began, voice friendly and warm, “but the would-be killer you’re trying to contact is unavailable at the moment…”
“Agnes?”
She blinked.
“Agnes, is that fucking you?” Cass demanded.
“Uh, yes. It’s me. Hi.” Oh, he was growly. She’d missed that growly voice.
“You’re in danger.” A snarl.
She surveyed the scene. Lots of cops. Her partner at the ready. The perp with his hands up and his knife no longer heading for her. Hmm. She should really frisk him now to make sure there were no other weapons on him. She’d bet the guy had other weapons. “I’m kinda busy right now. How about we talk later?”
“He wants to kill you.”
“Already tried. No worries. I stopped him.” How had Cass gotten the number for her attacker?
“I’m coming to you,” Cass said. Flat. Hard. “On my way.”
Nope. He probably did not want to do that. Not with all the police around. “This is not really your scene—”
He hung up. Incredibly rude. She shrugged.
But she realized the perp was watching her way too closely. “Weakness,” he whispered. Then he smiled.
She wasn’t afraid of much in this world. But that smile…that one word…A shiver skated down her spine.
Her gaze darted over the jerk who loved to slice with his knife. A knife was her least favorite weapon of choice. Mostly because she’d never, ever be able to forget what it felt like to have a blade plunging into her again and again. Her gaze went to the big hands that were still up in the air. The sleeves of his shirt and jacket had fallen down, and she could just make out a tattoo swirling around the perp’s right wrist.
Her breath caught. She stepped closer to him.
A snake tattoo. Black ink. Intricate scales on the snake. And…two heads. She was staring at a two-headed, snarling cobra. Both heads showed razor sharp fangs ready to bite. The tattoo was clearly visible beneath the glow of the street light.
“See something you like?” the bastard mocked.
Her grip tightened on her gun. She held his phone in her left hand. The gun in her right. “Where’d you get that tattoo?”
He laughed.
She stared harder at the tattoo. The faint lines. The details on the snake. The tail that disappeared into the sleeve of his jacket. Not quite the same, not exactly as she remembered. A bit larger, actually. The two-headed snake from her nightmares had been smaller, closer to her attacker’s wrist.
Not the same tattoo. But close, so close.
A knife slashing down. Screams. Blood.
A two-headed snake with fangs bared, black eyes staring at me…
She put the gun to the perp’s forehead. “Where did you get the fucking tattoo?”
He wasn’t laughing any longer.
He also wasn’t speaking.
“Uh, Agnes.” Malik touched her shoulder. “I’ve got him. Put the gun down.”
Her whole body was shaking.
A knife slashing down. The blade going into me again and again. Blood…
“I’ve got him,” Malik said again.
Her breath heaved out.
“Agnes,” Malik’s voice sharpened.
She lowered her gun.
Chapter Seven
“What in the hell just happened?” FBI Agent Grayson “Gray” Stone demanded. Gray was not just a run-of-the-mill FBI agent. He was someone who had flown up the ranks in record time. His fancy new title—because it always seemed to be changing with Gray—was Executive Assistant Director.
The man held a whole lot of power at the Bureau.
And he currently looked extremely pissed…with her.
Probably because it was a Monday night. He’d expected to be home in bed with his lovely wife. His lovely pregnant wife. And, instead of being with Emerson…
He was at the FBI office. Glaring at Agnes.
She shifted a bit in the exceedingly uncomfortable chair that had been positioned directly across from his desk. Gray didn’t sit in his leather desk chair. He stood behind the desk. The better to glare down at her.
“What just happened…” Agnes nodded. She kept her voice brisk as she told him, “A sneak attack, sir. That’s what happened. The attacker came up behind me. Luckily, I thwarted his attack.” Thwarted. That was a fun word. It kind of swirled around in her head. She had thwarted—
“Agnes.” Flat. Zero amusement. Typical Gray. “I’m talking about when you shoved the muzzle of your gun against his forehead. What the hell possessed you to do that?”
Oh, yes. That part of the night. “He wanted to kill me.”
“So you arrest him. We lock his ass away. When we stop a perp, we follow the rules. We don’t nearly shoot an unarmed man in the street, with half a dozen cops nearby.”
“I didn’t nearly shoot him. My finger never got even close to pulling the trigger.” Time to just get real with Gray. “We both know that if I’d wanted him dead, he would be dead. I wouldn’t have just sprayed mace in his eyes. The perp was coming at me with a knife. I could have shot him there and then and had a solid self-defense case.”
He swore.
“Yeah, exactly,” she agreed. “I didn’t. I didn’t shoot him. He’s under arrest, cooling down in holding. I did everything the right way.”
“You’re a Fed.”
She knew that fun fact. She carried the badge. She hunted the monsters.
She saw the victims who’d been left behind. She buried the dead. She…
Wanted vengeance.
“You think I don’t understand?” Gray’s voice lowered even as his face tensed. “You think I don’t have a profile on every single member of my team?”
Her hands gripped the chair’s armrests on either side of her body. “Judas Long had four open arrest warrants.” They had ID’d the guy not too long ago. “Because of me, he’s now behind bars. I think that makes for a pretty good night’s work.” As far as Gray having a profile on her…
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what his profile would say.
“You’re still hunting,” Gray charged.
Aw, damn. She shrugged. Maybe she slumped a little in her chair.
“Agnes.” Flat. “You’re still hunting.”
Guilty. True story, she would be hunting until the day she died. Or until the day I bury the bastard who hurt me and killed my boyfriend.
“You know I’m looking for him, too,” Gray added. Because, of course, he was. This was Gray. “I’m searching for the perp based on the profile we built,” Gray added, because, yes, they had worked together to create a profile on the man she was after. She’d wanted Gray’s insight as she tried to understand the killer. Understanding him isn’t my goal. Eliminating him is. “We know the perp was most likely an MC member,” he continued. “Based on the tattoo work you described, he was more than just a regular MC. He was a Twin Cobra. Because they are the bastards who use the two-headed cobra tat to mark their members. But when you were attacked, you only saw the tat. You never saw the face of the man who hurt you. Hell, you really didn’t see anything but his tatted wrist…”
His wrist, yes, because she’d stared up as the knife had plunged down at her.
But she had seen more than just that.
The black helmet. The dark visor that completely covered his face. The dark, battered, leather coat that he wore. The coat I grabbed with my blood-covered hands. The black t-shirt. The jeans. The boots as he walked away and left me bleeding beside the dead body of my boyfriend.
“Agnes?”
She blinked. Her breath shuddered out. “He spoke to me.”
“The perp tonight? Uh, yeah—”
“No. The man who attacked me all of those years ago.” As if she’d ever forget his voice or his words. “You know he did. If I could just get an in with the powerful MCs, if I could just get close, I could—”
“That shit isn’t going to happen. We are talking about the Twin Cobras. They’re freaking shadows, Agnes. You know that. The Twins—if the stories are true—they are actually in the other MCs.”
She was aware. “The Twins are supposed to be the most vicious, hardened bikers out there. They are chosen because they show extreme potential.” Potential for violence and destruction. “But they have to prove themselves to get inside that secret, inner circle.”
“Some people are wannabes.” Gray kept his stare on her. “They heard the stories about the two-headed cobra tat. They get the ink to pretend that they are the most dangerous bastards out there.”
“Yeah, and then they wind up in the morgue because no wannabes are allowed in the Twins.” As if she didn’t understand this. She’d gone to plenty of morgues to look at bodies supposedly belonging to the notorious group. She’d never found a match for the tattoo on the man who’d come after her.
“The perp tonight could just be a dumb wannabe.”
Judas could certainly be. “Maybe. But he also tried to kill Cassius Striker a few nights back. Pair that up with the fact that Judas just tried to take out a Fed, and, to me, you’re talking Twin Cobra level work.”
Gray blinked. “He tried to kill Cassius?”
Um…
“How do you know about that?” Gray thundered.
Oh, the usual way. “I might have been in the bar at the time.” Did she need to say more? Hopefully not. Time to redirect her boss. “The inner circle of the Twins,” she said deliberately. “If I can get access, I know I can find the killer I’m after. No, more than that, I can help take down the whole group. They’re the worst of the worst. Criminals. Murderers. I just need to get—”
“No.” He pushed his hands down on the desk as he leaned toward her. “You’re not going to just sashay into the MC world and somehow infiltrate the secretive Twins. That shit does not happen. Ever. Don’t you understand? No one has gotten in undercover with them. We’ve had agents who tried. The Bureau has been attempting to infiltrate the Twins for years. Any agents who get close are unmasked. Those agents vanish completely, or else we find pieces of them.”
Not like she wanted pieces of herself to be discovered. Agnes swallowed.
Gray was not done. Nostrils flaring, he fired, “There have been explosions that we believe are linked to the Twins. Actual bomb detonations because these perps are freaking extreme. They don’t just destroy their enemies. They often obliterate them. That’s not happening to you. Not on my watch.”
They’d had this talk before. Whenever she mentioned going undercover in an attempt to reach the Twins. And, frankly, the very fact that the group was so extreme just meant that they needed to work harder in order to take them down. She wanted in that group. She wanted to rip them apart from the inside.
