CHAPTER TWO
– LIVI –
A shot of adrenaline surges through me when my hand swings up, making the red fluid spray fucking everywhere.
“Motherfucker. I’m going to kill you,” I snarl. “When I get my fucking hands on you I’ll start by tearing off every damn limb.”
Whipping my head around I try to see where the hell he… the doorbell rings, followed by knocking.
“Dammit,” I grumble and stomp in the direction of the door.
Without looking I swing it open to find bikers on my doorstep. Not just any bikers, they are Wisely Dicey MC members whose clubhouse is right next door. I’ve been preparing for the past few months to go undercover and only moved into this property two days ago. Now they show up out of the blue?
I let my gaze slide over the biker standing in front of me. Piercing green eyes, scruffy jaw, messy dark blond hair, nose ring piercing, tattoos crawling up his neck and disappearing underneath the shirt he’s wearing under his leather cut. Big muscles by the look of the fabric stretching over his arms. He’s wearing black jeans and crisp white sneakers.
No biker boots. Sneakers. How weird.
“All good?” he rumbles, making my gaze fly up and collide with his.
All good? If he’s referring to his appearance, I’d say he’s more than good. Shit. I know exactly who this is. I’ve seen the photographs taken by the surveillance team of our task force. Standing in front of me is Thorsten Rhyland, the vice president of Wisely Dicey MC. His father, Rainer, is the president.
Suspicion hits as to why they would be on my doorstep, asking if all is good.
I cross my arms in front of my chest and narrow my eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
One of the other bikers, I recognize as Macsen, leans to the side and asks, “Done with the tearing off limbs yet? Or do you need some help?”
I glance down and realize I’m covered in crimson.
Huffing out a frustrated breath, I grumble, “I can handle my own business.”
Thorsten points a finger in my direction. “Spider.”
Adrenaline hits again and I don’t even think twice as I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head and off in one go. Throwing the shirt on the ground I stomp on it a few times to make sure I murdered the creepy crawler.
“Impressive, VP, you got her bouncing her tits with a single word.” Macsen chuckles.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter under my breath when I realize what just happened.
Very fucking professional for an undercover agent to be scared of freaking spiders. I let my lips curl into a smile and face the bikers. To be honest? I don’t give a fuck what I just did, and I surely don’t need to excuse myself to them for showing off my lace bra. I’m sure they’ve seen more tits than any breast surgeon in his whole career.
What I do care about is the asshole in front of me who’s gloating because by the look on his face? There was no spider and he took a lucky guess as to why I freaked out and covered myself with red liquid food coloring.
“Impressive?” I snap. “Mean is more like it.”
I’m about to shut the door when Thorsten kicks out and stops it with his crisp white sneaker.
“I was just making sure my observation was correct,” he rumbles and sticks his nose into the air. “What’s that smell?”
“Somethin’ burnin’?” Macsen questions.
For a split second I think my muffins might be burning, but then I remember the oven isn’t on yet. The fucker is trying to make me jump through his hoop again the way he did with the spider just now. Shit. I should play along ’cause he wants to come inside.
“Fuck,” I grumble and head for the kitchen.
The sound of footsteps behind me lets me know the bikers are coming inside.
Whirling around, I grit, “You did it again, didn’t you?”
This man knows the effect of every move he has, and I hate to admit the smirk he’s giving me is in fact a panty-wetting one.
“You’re fun to hotwire, babe.” He chuckles. “You give a whole damn new meaning to fire in your pants. Your ignition time is fire.”
The only reaction to that is sticking out my tongue. His eyes widen a fraction when he sees my piercing. He’s standing close enough to read the “fuck off” written on it and I guess it’s why he throws his head back and barks out a laugh.
I’ve been preparing to engage with members of this MC for months. Have read files and watched video surveillance on every single member. Yet, standing face-to-face with Thorsten makes me aware the man has many sides…one of them radiates sex…and it’s something I’ve underestimated.
“What the fuck are you baking?” someone asks, and I turn to see it’s a biker I know as Lenz.
I have to be careful with using names, though. None of them have introduced themselves to me.
“I’m a baker for both humans and dogs. I’m making dog muffins, hence the smell.” The words have barely tumbled from my lips when he pulls out his phone.
Macsen wanders through my living room and disappears into my bedroom. I try to step around Thorsten to see what the hell Macsen is doing when he blocks me.
“Move,” I grit and raise my voice. “Hey, rude biker in my bedroom, get the fuck out of there.” I glare at Lenz who’s focused on his phone, and then face Thorsten. “I’d like for y’all to leave. Hell, I didn’t even invite you in, and I sure as hell don’t know who you bunch are. Except for the fact you fuckers might be my neighbors due to the leather vests you guys are wearing with the same logo that’s on the building next door.”
“Mind telling us why you moved in next door to us, and who the fuck you really are? ’Cause you sure as fuck ain’t no damn baker. You don’t even have a website, let alone a dog to make treats for.”
My attention slides to Lenz and I stride to the door where I dropped my shirt. Snatching it from the floor, I shake it off before pulling it on.
Swinging the door open I grit, “Last time. Get. The. Fuck. Out of my damn house.”
“Technically it’s not your house,” Lenz states.
I flip him off without looking in his direction. “No, it’s owned by my landlord, Rye Beckett. I’m renting it, asshole. Me, Livi Stone, of Livi’s Muffin and Stuff ’em. Totally not nice to meet you.” I turn to face Lenz, since no one moved. “And for your information, not everyone has a damn website. I only have a social media page and started out with supplying my friends, and their pets, with my baked goods. Then their friends and that’s how I built my regular list of clients. I have a damn form I check twice a day and my phone number is also listed on my social media page. Besides, didn’t you see my damn food truck sitting in the driveway? You know, the one you had to pass to get to my fucking door? Right. Okay. Bye now, Mister Smartypants.”
Thorsten barks out another laugh while Lenz mutters, “Yeah, I noticed the food truck, and you do have a nice social media page.” Lenz tilts his head. “Why no dog?”
Sadness hits me. It might be part of my cover, but it’s also true when I honestly tell him, “My dog died three weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Thorsten rumbles and closes the distance between us as he holds out his hand for me to take. “Thorsten Rhyland.”
“Livi Stone.” I slide my fingers over his palm to shake his hand.
I’m glad to have thrown out my name before touching him because I wouldn’t trust my voice right now. Hot damn. I swear it feels as if sparks dance between our palms, shooting fire up my arm, filling my body with heat. Ripping my hand from his, I clear my throat and quickly glance at Lenz.
“This asshole here is Macsen, I’m Lenz. Sucks about your dog, and I’m an asshole as well for some of the comments I made. You can never be too careful, you know?”
“Like opening your front door and having bikers invade your privacy?” I dryly reply and glare at Macsen.
The corner of Lenz’s mouth twitches and Macsen chuckles.
“You didn’t have any pictures in the living room, so I had to check the bedroom. Cute dog, what breed was he…or she?” Macsen questions.
“English bulldog,” Lenz grunts.
I snap my fingers in the guy’s direction. “Get off your damn phone and fucking ask a person questions and let them answer themselves.” Throwing Macsen a nasty look I add, “And definitely don’t go into another person’s bedroom to snoop. Shit. You’re lucky I just moved in and didn’t have time to dump panties and other stuff all over the damn floor.”
Lenz and Macsen chuckle while Thorsten is now glaring at Macsen.
Taking a deep breath, I ask, “Anyone want something to drink? I have to clean up my kitchen and finish these muffins, but you’re welcome to hang around. Oh, and if you’d like to have a muffin, the ones I made for human consumption of course, they’re in the box on the counter.”
Thorsten opens the box and takes out a muffin. He holds my gaze as he takes a bite. The groan of appreciation rumbling through his chest makes my insides freaking tingle. Dammit. He’s one of the main targets the task force wants to take down. I’ve been preparing for this undercover job for months, and now my body is reacting to him in a way I’ve never experienced.
Something tells me there’s nothing I could have done to prepare myself for Thorsten Rhyland. Though, I’d be damned if I fucked-up my first undercover job due to the way my body reacts to this man.