7. Zoe
7
ZOE
Pulsboro was like many small, dusty biker towns.
It was tight knit and charming in one breath. In another, it was suffocating and dull with its less than impressive Main Street attractions and handful of beer-soaked bars.
But it was where I would find Gallagher, so I didn’t think twice about the trip. I had dug his address out of the case file on the Chosen Saints debacle. All the Steel Kings were taken in for questioning. His personal information was listed on his statement.
I pulled up outside the Pulsboro Trailer Park with a raised eyebrow.
If I didn’t think Duchovny would cancel the investigation, I would’ve skipped out on approaching Gallagher altogether. I would’ve carried on by myself.
He answers after my third knock.
The door swings open to the sight of him squinty-eyed and shirtless in flannel pajama pants hung low on his pelvis. Instant warmth flushes my cheeks as I accidentally let my gaze roam over the vivid dragon tattoo inking his chest, then the chiseled V indentations of his Adonis belt.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Got a minute, Gallagher?”
“Uh… right. Yeah, come in.”
I step past the threshold into the pigsty of a living room. But we’re not alone—Logan Cutler and his wife, Teysha, are over. I recognize both from the testimonies we had collected from members of the club and their spouses.
“We’ll talk to you later.” Logan Cutler grabs his wife’s hand on their way out.
I wait a few seconds once they leave before apologizing. “Sorry if that was important.”
“Wha…? Oh, don’t worry about that. They were, uh, just coming by to say hi. You hungry? Thirsty? Teysha made some eggs.”
I stand back as he quickly tries, and fails, to hide some of the mess in the room. He not-so-discreetly shoves a pile of clothes under a sofa cushion and then punts a pizza box under the entertainment center.
“Don’t mind the mess—things’ve been a little hectic at the office. You know how these 9- to-5s can be.”
He shoots me a playful grin that probably makes most women melt. It’s flirtatious wit that’s charming and amusing.
But I’m not that kind of woman—I don’t let myself be charmed and I don’t laugh at men’s jokes to feed their ego.
I’m the woman that plans on spending the rest of her life alone if it means avoiding a relationship like my parents.
I’m an FBI agent about to go deep undercover to make the man who ruined my sister pay.
“Gallagher, I’m here to brief you about the undercover operation for Boone’s tournament.”
“You mean the part where we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“Yes… that situation.”
“I thought we broke up,” he calls from where he’s disappeared into the kitchen. I hear the rustle of garbage bags.
“You heard Boone. He’s going to expect us to ‘work it out’. We’re in this tournament together.”
“Funny, ’cuz I thought I was going to be the only one playing.” He re-emerges in the kitchen doorway with a cup of coffee and his blue eyes shining in amusement.
He raises the coffee mug to his lips, showing off his long torso bathed in vivid, colorful ink. He has a naturally lean body type, like the build of a swimmer.
It’s admittedly a nice view after weeks without a fuck buddy. My last one, Jeremy, recently moved out of D.C. for a new job opportunity.
“You know what I mean. You’ll be playing in the tournament. I’ll be working club services for the tournament,” I snap, agitated by the heat warming my skin. “My director has approved the undercover mission so long as you’re working as my operative.”
“Sounds cool,” he teases, his grin crooked. “Does that make me an undercover special agent?”
I shake my head incorrigibly at him. “No, Gallagher, that doesn’t make you a special agent. It makes you an undercover informant for the FBI.”
“Whoa, I don’t fuck with the FBI?—”
“You don’t have a choice,” I interrupt sharply. “Either you cooperate and any wrongdoing on your record will be wiped clean, or you refuse—and go down with Boone and his cronies the moment we crack the case. Make your decision now, Gallagher. There’s no turning back.”
He sets down his mug of coffee and steps toward me, the humor wiping out on his face. Suddenly he’s close enough for his energy to change the chemicals in the air. I feel the difference immediately, my head reeling as I process his proximity.
He’s way too close, invading my space, making me lose my train of thought.
“Fine, Special Agent,” he says, peering straight into my eyes. He’s so close, his face hovering a few inches above mine, that he could easily kiss me. Just like we’d done weeks ago in front of Boone. Just like we’ll be forced to do again soon. “Okay, we’ll work together. I’ll have to figure out something to tell the MC about my absence, but I’m in. Under one condition, that is. I get to smash that plump little ass of yours.”
I part my lips in shock, my pulse racing.
His grin returns, pleased he’s rendered me speechless. “Kidding, Special Agent. But I will get you to like me by the end of this gig.”
“I highly, highly doubt it.”
“We’ll see about that. I’ll win you over and you won’t even realize it.” He winks at me before he steps away.
I roll my eyes and question what bad deed I could’ve possibly committed in a past life to find myself partnered with a man like Oswald Gallagher.
We depart from Pulsboro that afternoon, catching a last-minute flight into Vegas. I do my best to separate myself from Gallagher at the airport, but he insists that we sit together at the terminal, citing that we’re supposed to behave like any other couple.
“We’re not even in Vegas yet,” I say through clenched teeth.
“And? What if Boone has eyes here in the area? You’d be surprised. Boone’s known all over Texas.”
I concede his point, though begrudgingly. Popping AirPods into my ears, I turn up the volume on the podcast I’m listening to and pretend that Gallagher is a stranger who happens to have sat next to me.
The same can be said while we’re airborne. I keep my earbuds in for the entire flight ’til we’re at baggage claim in the busy Vegas airport and Gallagher plucks them out of my ear.
“Give those back!”
“Nah, don’t think I will, Special Agent. It’s show time. You ready to put on the best performance of your life? ’Cuz you’re Jade Fowley… which means you’re my girl now.” He manages to snag my suitcase off the baggage carousel all while he says this, then tosses his arm around my shoulders. “Before we head to the hotel, I’ve got a pitstop to make.”
“Pitstop? What sort of pitstop?”
No less than fifteen minutes later, after an uncomfortable taxi ride that reeks of cheap cherry air freshener, we arrive at the pitstop he spoke of.
A place called the Velocity Garage.
I arch a brow at him, cutting him a judgy sideways glance. “Is this a bike shop?”
“Sure is,” he answers proudly. “You think I was gonna be in Vegas for almost a whole month and not have a bike? C’mon, babe, you know better than that.”
“Don’t call me babe.”
“You’re one of those chicks?”
“Also, don’t call me chick.”
Gallagher’s grin is crooked, borderline charming—which is frustrating—as he tilts his head to the side as if he’s trying to figure me out. As if he finds my resistance amusing.
“Do you ever just… you know, chill?” he asks.
“Chill?” I sputter, then shake my head, folding my arms. “This is not the time to chill . This is a federal investigation you’re now a part of. Take your role as my operative seriously. But I’m warning you, I don’t play nice with others.”
“Sounds like my type of chick.”
“Call me a chick—or a babe—one more time and find out why it’s the worst mistake of your life. I will drop kick you, Gallagher.”
“Definitely my kinda chick. No pain, no gain as they say. C’mon, babe. Louie’s waiting on us.” He winks at me before he sets off at a casual stroll, his hands deep in his pockets.
Pressure wells up inside me like it’s about to explode and I almost release a howl of frustration.
Gallagher’s hardly noticed. He’s already approaching the greased up man in coveralls that’s currently working on one of the motorcycles. I follow after him only once I realize I don’t have much of a choice.
I’m Jade Fowley, and so long as I’m undercover, Gallagher’s my boyfriend.
“What’s up?” Louie says, jutting his chin at me.
“Hello,” I murmur with a sigh.
Gallagher laughs. “Don’t mind Jade. She’s hangry right now.”
“Oh yeah, my girl gets like that too if I don’t feed her. I got some fun-sized Snickers in the candy dish in the office if you want some,” drawls Louie, a slight twang to his sunny voice. He flashes a gap-toothed smile at me and points his thumb over his shoulder.
“That won’t be necessary, Lou. Jade will survive being a little hangry for a while. I’m here to pick up my bike.”
“Right! I was able to put a Screaming Eagle on hold for you. It’s nothing as good as you’re used to, but it’s the best I can rent out for now.”
The Screaming Eagle turns out to be a massive bike with shimmering gold paint and chrome that reflects the sunlight. There’s leather seating, even a backseat for me to sit on, and what Gallagher says is a saddlebag, which is a compartment for storage. The handlebars jut out to the side along with wide mirrors that help situational awareness when riding.
Gallagher slides onto the bike like nothing and then stares expectantly at me. “Well? Hop on, Special Agent. You’re riding with me.”
I shake my head. “I’ll take a taxi.”
“You’re supposed to be my girl. My girl would ride on the back with me.”
“You can’t be serious,” I mutter under my breath, though I sigh and step forward. I park myself onto the rear seat, feeling awkward so close to him.
“You gonna hold onto me or what?”
I sigh again, then reluctantly clutch at the fabric of his shirt. He gives a low chuckle as if he can’t believe how stubborn I am.
“You need to hold on better than that if you don’t want to fall off.”
The engine rumbles and he quickly proves that he’s not kidding. I do need to hold on if I don’t intend on falling off. My arms circle his torso just in time for us to take off from the garage. Louie waves goodbye, shouting something about us enjoying our time in Vegas.
I can only scowl as Gallagher zips down the Vegas streets and the hot summer air smacks into us. It’s like being cooked in an oven I can’t escape from. I’m hanging off Gallagher’s back, practically helpless as he proves he’s exactly the kind of driver I thought he would be.
Fast and reckless, just like a true daredevil.
I scream as we speed through a yellow light and he weaves between more cars. Though I can tell by the way he handles the bike with ease, he’s experienced, it doesn’t make my pulse beat any slower.
Riding on the back of Gallagher’s bike is like being on a roller coaster.
I’m forced to cling to him, wrapping my arms tighter and tighter, burying my face into the back of his shirt. It doesn’t even occur to me ’til we’re almost at the hotel that I really am holding onto him like he’s my boyfriend.
But he doesn’t show any signs he’s bothered by it. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, from the edges that I can see of his face, he’s grinning .
We pull into the concrete parking garage of the hotel where we’ll be staying for the tournament. I’m reorienting myself, trying to get used to solid ground again, when Gallagher decides it’s a good time for more ribbing.
“You sure ended up holding on real tight, Special Agent.”
I bristle at him. “Maybe that had something to do with your fast and furious style of driving.”
“Too much for you? Don’t worry, I’ve been riding for almost fifteen years. I know what I’m doing.”
“So do I… with this investigation. Remember, you follow my lead.”
“More like this is a partnership. We work together. We take out Boone,” he replies, his tone easy. He beckons me with his head, gesturing to the doors of the resort and casino. “You coming? Time to check into our room and officially start this fake relationship.”