Mettle: (Spartan Riders #2) Page 8

  Tucker was nothing more than a case file to her, and that’s exactly how she intended to keep him.

  Except then he was standing in front of her again, smiling that smile that turned her insides out. Anticipation jolted through her alarmingly fast, just before he bent down and swept her up into a toe-curling kiss.

  When he was through with her, Talia’s brain was scrambled, her thoughts scattered to the wind. What had she been telling herself…?

  “Thanks for a great evening,” Tuck told her. “I had fun.”

  “Um, you’re welcome,” Talia muttered, unsure whether she was coming or going. Staying? No, no, she was leaving. That’s right, she was on her way out the door. Gathering together what was left of her wits, she backed away, her hand lifted in a limp wave. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  He didn’t sound as if he meant it. Her back hit the door, and they both just stood there, staring at each other, neither one making a move to say or do anything…

  A scream of ecstasy reverberated off the walls from somewhere nearby, and Talia jumped. “I should go. I’m going,” she said, nerves shot. She fumbled behind her for the doorknob, coming up with nothing but solid, flat wood. She smiled faintly, her cheeks heating, then turned and used her eyes to locate the blasted thing. “There it is! This is me going,” she repeated, opening the door and slipping through the narrow crack.

  Her boob caught on the edge of the door, jerking her to a stop. She cursed, opened the door wider, smiled at Tuck who was smiling now too, and waved. Slamming the door behind her, Talia fell back against it and let a few choice curses rip. God, she was such a spaz!

  Breathe, Talia. Breathe. Get your head on straight, girl! This isn’t your first rodeo.

  The pep talk helped enough to get her feet moving in the right direction. Very aware that she wasn’t to be alone in the building, she hurried for the exit, her eyes focused straight ahead. The last thing she wanted to do was get caught by Repo again, or anyone else for that matter. The last and worst thing she could do was spend her last minutes there finding out the consequences of roaming around unattended.

  Hell, that made her sound like some kind of pet. Unattended. Pfft. Bunch of dirty bikers, treating women like animals. She had half a mind to—

  A throat clearing caught her attention and Talia’s gaze shot to a darkened corner.

  Reclining back on a tall, leather-backed stool, Repo raised a stark brow at her.

  “I’m leaving,” she assured him. “No roaming for me. Going right there.” She pointed at the door that was only a few feet away. Please don’t let him tackle me when I’m so close to freedom.

  He didn’t say a word, nor did he make a move, so she kept going. When she slammed through to the outside, she inhaled a relieved breath…and heard Repo’s distinct baritone laughter.

  Jackass.

  ELEVEN

  “You’re supposed to observe, not sleep with him!” SAC Ingram shouted, his arms flying around his head.

  “Sounds like she didn’t do much sleeping,” Special Agent and dickwad extraordinaire Frank Kellerman muttered under his breath.

  Talia glared back at him. They’d gone through training together and had, by some stroke of bad luck, been put on this case together too. With early patterned baldness, a too-wide nose, and eyes that seemed to hold secrets, she’d never liked the man. Holding back the worst of what she wanted to say, she uttered, “Go to hell,” just loud enough for him to hear her.

  Or so she thought.

  Ingram pointed at both of them, his eyes blazing. “You two shut up. The last thing I need is to deal with a couple of toddlers. Do you see this?” He held up a manila file packed with months’ worth of detective work detailing the missing women, their families and friends, last knowns, et cetera. What that file lacked, however, was what they needed to find the people behind the trafficking operation so they could bring them to justice. Unfortunately, suspicion wasn’t enough for a conviction in the eyes of the law.

  Ingram charged on, the shade of red coloring his face indicating to both her and Kellerman they’d better sit back and be quiet or else.

  “Sixty lives. I’m holding sixty women’s lives in my hands. That’s all they are now, a bunch of paperwork. Because of these bastards, they’re lost to us. They’ll likely never be found, but we owe it to their families to solve this case regardless. We owe it to the countless women who might be their next victim to get these guys. What we don’t owe them is a bunch of bullshit infighting or—fuck’s sake, I can’t believe I have to say this—fucking the very monsters who took them in the first place!”

  Talia flinched, but she refused to cower. She’d done nothing wrong, and if it meant getting one single shred of evidence, she’d do it all again. Sitting forward in her seat, she placed her hands on her knees. “All due respect, sir, but we don’t know that the Spartans have anything to do with this.”

  “Are you kidding?” Kellerman balked. “They’re a bunch of bikers. Criminals, McKinnon.”

  “And that makes them monsters? Most people you meet on the street have some kind of record, and I checked. Most of these guys have a couple of misdemeanors. Nothing to lose sleep over. So, no, I’m not kidding.” Why she felt the need to defend them, she had no idea, but Talia couldn’t just sit back and let her boss or anyone else drag an innocent man’s name through the mud without just cause.

  “So let me get this straight.” Kellerman sat forward, turning toward her. She knew by the look on his face and the tone in his voice that whatever he was about to say was going to piss her off. “You climb into bed with one of these degenerates, and suddenly you’re on their side? What, does this guy have a dick made of gold or something?”

  Before she could stop herself, Talia’s hand rose up and slapped his face. “Talk to me like that again, Kellerman!” she shouted.

  “I can’t believe you just hit me! You saw that, Charles. I want to file a complaint.”

  “If anyone is filing a complaint, it’s me for sexual harassment,” Talia threw back.

  Ingram bolted from his chair. “Both of you shut up! No one is filing anything!” Stomping around his desk, he snapped the blinds around his office closed, shuttering them from view. But not before Talia caught a glimpse of everyone in the office staring.

  “What is this, a Monday? You two are an embarrassment of riches today,” Ingram scolded.

  “She started it,” Kellerman mumbled, then shut right the hell up when Ingram shot him a warning look.

  It took a few moments for the SAC to collect himself and his coloring to even out. “I’m not condoning your behavior in the field, McKinnon,” he directed to Talia. “The last thing I want is for my agents literally climbing into bed with the enemy, but I appreciate your dedication to the job. We all want to see this case solved, but I feel the need to remind you that this is likely the reason we lost our last agent, so be careful. Don’t lose your head. With that being said…did you get anything we can use?”

  “Besides herpes.”

  “One more comment from you, Kellerman,” Ingram warned, “and you’re off the case.” Talia grinned. Frank pouted.

  “Unfortunately, no, sir,” Talia replied once she felt the smoke had cleared enough to speak with relative safety. “There are a couple safes on the premises, but without the combinations, I have no way of getting inside. Regardless, they don’t look like anything noteworthy.”

  “What about the rest of the place? Did you see anything that might warrant a closer look? Any suspicious behavior or activity going on that our cameras didn’t catch?”

  “Nothing suspicious that I noticed. As for a closer look, it’s a large space. I was able to conduct a brief search of Tucker Abrams’ room—”

  Ingram had sat forward and started riffling through his notes. “Abrams…Is that the one they call Country?”

  Beside her, Kellerman snorted. She ignored him. “Yes, sir. I was left alone in his room and had a limited amo
unt of time to look around. One of the safes I mentioned is located on his closet floor. I found nothing to hint at a possible combination, though, as I mentioned, it didn’t appear significant.”

  Ingram rubbed his middle finger down the bridge of his nose. If Talia didn’t know any better, she’d almost think he was purposefully flipping her the bird. “What else?”

  “Sir?” She frowned, unsure what he was getting at.

  “What else did you find? How many rooms, any places that might be promising? Anything?”

  “Um…there was one room that I think they use for private meetings. I tried to get in there, but I was caught by one of the members before I could gain entrance.” She thought of how close she’d come to getting caught doing something that she couldn’t talk her way out of, and shuddered.

  Ingram nodded as if to himself. “Keep working on it. See what you can do to get inside. Meanwhile, Kellerman will continue working the women. How are we coming along on that?”

  Since her “partner” was too much of a suit to pass Spartan inspection and it would take too long to get a good foothold inside their gang, he’d been tasked with approaching the so-called “bunnies.” While he was working them over for information, she was working the men—or one in particular.

  Unfortunately, that angle had dried up faster than a puddle under a noonday desert sun.

  Alarmed, Talia spoke up, cutting the men off mid-conversation. “Sir, Abrams made it clear that he’s a one-night kind of guy. Last night was my only chance.” And she’d blown it. The realization hit her square in the face, and she suddenly felt sick to her stomach.

  All those women…

  Ingram’s black eyes swung back to her. Thankfully, he didn’t appear to be irritated with the interruption. “Did you two have fun?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Fun? Did you have it? Did he seem happy when you left? Maybe sad to see you go?”

  “I…I don’t know…” What did that have to do with anything?

  “Then find out,” Ingram urged. “Go back there and talk your way back in.”

  “But…I…I don’t know what to say,” she stuttered. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  Kellerman chuckled, the sound one of supremacy, as if he were embarrassed for her. God, she hated him sometimes. “McKinnon, honey—”

  “Don’t honey me.”

  “Whatever. Haven’t you ever had a one-night stand before?” He shook his head, then continued, addressing the SAC this time. “I had this one back in college. Nice girl, real pretty. Anyway, she knew I wasn’t looking for a relationship, so after we pull an all-nighter, what does she do? She comes back the next morning, talking about how she left her purse behind and asks if I’ve seen it. Of course, I haven’t. Being a college bachelor, my room isn’t exactly clean, so I let her in to look for it. Then one thing leads to another…”

  Talia rolled her eyes. Leave it to Frank to share his conquests with his coworkers. As if anyone wanted or cared to hear about that. Guess it was up to her to get the conversation back on track before it went totally off the rails. “So, did she find it or what?”

  “Find what? Oh, the purse? No, it was never there.”

  Talia’s brows pulled down. “Then why…Oh. I see.”

  “Man, McKinnon, you need to get out more.”

  Ingram sat back, looking pleased for once. “Classic,” he mused. “There’s your in, McKinnon. Now go test it out.”

  Her mind racing, weighing all the pros and cons to such an operation, and coming up with every possible way it could so sideways, Talia said, “I don’t even own a purse, sir.”

  “Then use something else. Tell him you left your wallet behind. Your keys.”

  “Your grandmother’s earrings,” Frank offered.

  Ingram lifted his hand, palm up, toward her. “Perfect. Now go.”

  Touching her ear, Talia wondered if the tiny diamond studs could be passed off as antiques. Standing, nerves wracked her as she moved toward the door. Pausing, she looked over her shoulder only once, wanting to ask for more suggestions, something that didn’t feel so risky, but the men were deep in conversation, already having forgotten her.

  Sigh. Guess she was going back to the compound. Then maybe, if she was lucky, Tuck wouldn’t see right through her flimsy, as-yet-to-be-determined lie and she’d score another date with him.

  TWELVE

  “Run your new girlfriend off so soon?”

  Country had just emerged from his room, freshly showered and ready for a night of fun, when the question was thrown at him. Looking up, he saw Repo headed his way, those disturbing blue eyes laser focused on him.

  “Country has a new girlfriend? Why am I always the last to hear about these things?” Taco said as he rounded the corner to join them.

  “Taco, shut the fuck up,” Country said with a light chuckle. He shrugged his cut on over his bulky shoulders, feeling the leather hug tight around his armpits. If he didn’t cut back on the protein or at least cut back on the workouts, he was going to be shopping for a new wardrobe.

  He’d rather burn himself with lit cigarettes than spend any length of time in a department store.

  “You of all people know I don’t have any use for a girlfriend,” Tucker reminded his VP. Repo might have been scary, but lately he’d been catching glimpses of a well-hidden soft underbelly whenever he got around a certain redheaded bartender, and Tucker wasn’t feeling all that moved to run in the other direction when he saw him anymore. “You on the other hand…”

  “My love life, or lack thereof, has no place in your vocabulary.”

  The warning in his voice was clear as glass. There were a lot of things he could say, but Tucker didn’t figure he should push his luck. He might not be afraid of him, per se, but he still had a healthy respect for the man and what he could do.

  “Ditto, my man.”

  Repo jerked a nod in his general direction, turned to Taco who was occupying the space to his right, and with just a look, Taco backed off completely, giving the brother all the space he wanted. As he walked away, Tucker thought, yeah, he’d built himself a solid reputation as a man who wasn’t to be screwed around with. It didn’t hurt that he looked like the love child of Mr. Freeze and Santa Claus. People weren’t sure whether to sit on his lap or run away, but if they crossed him, they learned real fast.

  “I don’t care how many years he’s sat at the table, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that man.”

  Tucker grunted his agreement. Taco was just saying what everyone else was thinking. None of them wanted to find themselves opposite the man in a dark alley, but they were more than happy to ride and fight alongside him.

  Heading out into the main room, Taco fell into step with Tucker.

  “So, are you partying tonight, or are you heading out to…party?” he asked, his gaze running over Tucker meaningfully.

  So what he’d cleaned up? It wasn’t as if he never took a shower or anything—he may have gone a tad heavy on the cologne, though. “What are you gettin’ at?” Leaning an elbow on the bar’s counter, he lifted a finger when Ginger looked his way, letting her know he wanted a beer.

  “I’m not getting at nothin’,” Taco said, his pitch a little too high for it to be nothing. “Just wondering if you might be seeing that little fil’ you brought back last night?”

  Tucker gave him a deadpanned stare in return. “That ‘little fil’ you’re talkin’ about was a one-time deal. Tonight I’m looking for fresh meat.”

  “Then you’re in luck.” A hand clapped Tucker’s back, making him lurch forward. “We got all kinds of fresh meat coming in tonight with the Northwest charter, and I hear they’re lookin’ to have some fun.”

  “Blake, you dick,” Tucker cursed, rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder. “If those meat hooks you call hands leave a bruise…”

  “What are you gonna do, tell your momma on me?” Blake taunted, his smile stretching ear to ear.

  “I might! She’d tan your hi
de somethin’ fierce.”

  “Ah quit your bellyaching, ya big baby, before you embarrass yourself.”

  “Speaking of embarrassed. Does Gabby know you’re here, what with all the ladies coming in?” Tucker asked. “I’d hate to see what she’d do if she caught you red-handed with your hand down some bunny’s pants.”

  “One, that would not happen. Gabby is the only woman whose pants I’ll be puttin’ my hands down, and two,” he said, getting all shifty-eyed, “I need to take off.”

  He knew what that look was about. Every man under that roof who had an old lady had used it more than once. Tucker and Taco burst into laughter, the kind that started deep in the belly. “Oh, shit, you are so pussy whipped!”

  “Dude, seriously!” Taco held up his hand and Tucker high-fived it.

  Blake glared at them. “Fuck you both, seriously. There’s nothin’ wrong with wanting to be in a committed relationship.”

  “I don’t know,” Tucker teased, “seems kind of boring to me. One pussy for the rest of your life? Count me out.” Except Talia’s face rose up in his memory banks and for some reason, he got a little pang of…something—guilt? Longing?—in the pit of his stomach. But that couldn’t be right. She wasn’t anything special, and she was long gone.

  “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it. There’s something to be said about having a woman who loves you to come home to at night.”

  Taco’s expression began to fall. “That would be kind of nice, actually.”

  “Dude, not you too?”

  “What? It would be nice, and isn’t that what life is all about anyway, finding the one person out there who was made for you, so you’re not alone? Tell me that doesn’t sound good.”

  Ginger finally made it over with his beer and Tucker snatched it up like it was a lifeline. “Thanks, momma.” He gulped some down, then addressed his brothers as honestly as he could. “Look, while I respect the sanctity of marriage and relationships and all that, it’s just not for me. I like my freedom too much to ever get tied down to any one woman.”