Chapter 6 #2
Could they be both? Hell, no. This was going to explode in his face. He knew it with utter certainty. When the flames came, he’d have no one to blame but himself. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the fire for a time.
“Gray?” Emerson prompted. Her hands had lowered to press to his chest.
In the distance, he heard the rumble of motorcycle engines. Quite a few of them.
“Are you going to say anything or just leave me hanging?” Emerson asked him.
Oh, darling, I would never leave you hanging. “Your timing is interesting.”
“What?”
Gray nodded. “I appreciate you helping me lay the groundwork for our new case.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” A pause. “Are you drunk?” Suspicious.
He laughed. Couldn’t help it. Even as the growl of those engines got louder. Closer. “The scene in the bar—if we were spotted—just plays in our favor.”
“Uh…good?”
“Because we’ll need that for our cover.”
“Cover? What cover? Gray, make sense, would you? Make sense.”
He kissed her. Just put his lips back on hers, plunged his tongue into her mouth, and tasted her. So incredibly sweet.
Time was running out. He had just a few moments to take what he wanted. And he wanted her.
They’d come out of the bar together. He hadn’t seen the FBI bastard go in the nearby bar, so he hadn’t expected Emerson to come out with the jerk’s arm around her shoulders and seemingly wearing the man’s suit coat.
But he’d been waiting. Watching. Some days, it seemed as if he’d always been watching Emerson. Did she know? Could she feel him?
She should know. She should feel him.
So when she came out with the agent, he wondered if it might just be a taunt. A way to piss him off. Tricky, tricky Emerson. Such a naughty tease.
Only then the man steered her into the shadows. He pushed her up against the wall. Then FBI Special Agent Gray Stone put his mouth on Emerson. He kissed her. She kissed him back. There, in the shadows. In the darkness.
He watched. He didn’t attack. Even though rage twisted and coiled inside of him.
Emerson, what are you doing?
He’d been angry before, back in Briar, when he’d seen the FBI agent rush out of her motel room. For a moment, his temper had taken control. He’d wrecked her room. Wrecked the Fed’s room. Left a warning for them both.
But then they’d stayed apart. He’d thought—maybe they’d taken his warning to heart.
Or…or maybe he’d even been wrong. Maybe they had been talking about a case, and that was why Gray Stone had been in her motel room so late.
Not because they were fucking. Emerson wouldn’t fall for someone like him, anyway.
Stone would be too boring for her. He didn’t have enough darkness to call to the real Emerson.
But she was kissing him. Right then. Right there. Stone was kissing her.
He slowly pulled out the knife that he always carried. Started to advance.
And the howl and growl of motorcycles erupted into the night.
He stepped back, darting into the shadows once more even as his head whipped toward the growls.
He saw the lights from the approaching bikes.
Shining—glaring—through the darkness. Oh, no.
Had he been seen in the lights? He scurried back more.
Even more. More hurried steps away from Emerson and the Fed, fast steps until he was almost running, but he figured the growl of those motorcycle engines would hide his retreat. Wouldn’t they?
Can’t be seen. Can’t be caught.
Rage blasted inside of him even as…
A glance over his shoulder showed him that the motorcycles were heading straight for the darkness that held Emerson and her Agent Stone.
Don’t disappoint me, Emerson. If you do, I’ll kill him first…and send pieces of him for you to find.
The growling and snarling of motorcycle engines yanked Emerson back to reality. She shuddered against Gray. It sounded as if a whole stampede of bikes was heading their way.
“Don’t be afraid,” Gray told her. “I’ve got this.”
This? What was this?
He turned away from her. Put his body in front of hers, and those growls just got even louder. Even rougher as the small side street they were on suddenly filled with at least a dozen big, black motorcycles.
What is happening here?
She grabbed Gray’s shoulders and shoved up on the balls of her feet. The riders all wore dark helmets, with their masks pulled down to cover their faces. The first bike had stopped about five feet from Gray. The driver of that bike still gripped the handlebars as the motorcycle idled.
“You’re loud as hell,” Gray called out. “How about you try making a less dramatic entrance next time?”
The lead motorcycle revved again.
Oh, no. Emerson’s stomach seemed to drop. She knew that Gray had a ton of enemies in this world. She hadn’t known about his abduction and torture time. How had she missed all that? The powers at the FBI had buried that truth, but the gossip mill had kept some of the details going.
And now…
This.
The leader raised his hand. Made a circling motion with his gloved fingers. All of the other riders immediately turned and drove away. More snarling engines. More growls. Rather deafening in the small street.
But the leader remained. He turned off his Harley. Climbed off the motorcycle. He wore a black jacket. Battered. His hand rose to grab his helmet. He dropped it on the seat and then began to close in on Gray.
Slow steps.
Emerson remained on her tiptoes so that she could try to see him better. Dark hair. Thick. Hard jaw.
Would it kill them all to take this scene into better lighting?
“You taking the case?” the man asked.
What case? Emerson tried to dart around Gray.
He moved to the side, effortlessly blocking her dart. “Working on it right now.”
“Uh, huh. Looked to me like you were working on something different.” Mocking.
She realized that the flash of headlights had probably illuminated her and Gray quite well.
“It’s called laying groundwork,” Gray returned. “Setting the scene.”
Her hands fisted. She’d thought what they were doing was called kissing.
“She’s my partner, Dr. Emerson Marlowe.”
Partner.
“Oh, I know exactly who she is.” The stranger seemed pleased. “Glad she’s the one you picked for the job.” A brief pause. “You’ll take him out?”
“I’ll…apprehend the suspect.” Careful words.
Enough of this nonsense. She elbowed Gray out of her way. He rumbled a warning to her, but she ignored that warning and faced off with the stranger. Gray’s height. Gray’s build. If only she could see his features clearly. “Who are you?”
“Sweetheart, names aren’t entering this game.”
“I’m not your sweetheart,” she returned instantly.
“She sure as hell isn’t.” A lethal warning from Gray. “Watch yourself.”
Soft laughter. “Is that you getting into character, too? The jealous lover? Bet you’ve never played that role in your life. A real bitch, isn’t it?”
Her gaze raked the stranger, going from the top of his head—thick, dark hair—and traveling down. Old t-shirt. Jeans. Black boots. His voice was deep, held no accent, but seemed… something is familiar about him. “Do I know you?” Emerson asked.
“Better if you don’t,” he said. “Ask Gray. He’ll tell you it’s always better to pretend you have no clue who I am.”
Okay. Now she was even more curious. Her head turned toward Gray. “Are we meeting with a motorcycle gang leader in a dark alley? Because that’s sure what this seems like. Is he some sort of source for you?”
The stranger laughed. A deep, rumbling sound. Again… familiar.
Gray sighed. “Emerson, first, it’s a narrow street, not an alley. And, second, calling someone a gang leader isn’t polite. Third…” Gray pointed at the biker. “You’re the one who likes to pretend. Not me.”
There were a whole lot of undercurrents flowing in that narrow street.
“Fuck politeness,” the biker said. “By the way, I saved you both from a mugger tonight. So when this case is over and you’re tallying up how much I owe you for putting this fucker in the ground, add that to my list, would you?” He turned away.
“We’re not putting anyone in the ground, ” Gray snapped.
“Sure.” The biker waved his hand toward them. He’d almost reached his bike. “You find him, pull him out of the dark, and I’ll bury him. Done. You know how I love to handle the dirty work.”
Footsteps rushed toward them.
Emerson wasn’t overly surprised to see the rest of the FBI team advancing. The arrival of the motorcycle gang had been loud. Rylan was even reaching for his weapon as he eyed the leader.
“Stand down,” Gray snapped.
Rylan froze.
The biker climbed on the Harley.
Emerson found herself rushing toward the stranger. “What mugger?” Her heart drummed. Unease slithered through her.
A faint beam of light fell on his face. High cheekbones. Strong blade of a nose. “Some creep was sneaking up on you and Gray. Had a knife in his hand. Went scurrying into the dark when my crew arrived.” He started the bike. The engine growled. “You’re welcome.”
Someone had been sneaking up on her and Gray?
The biker’s gloved hands rose. His index fingers pointed upward. The rest of his fingers curled down. His fisted hands quickly pressed together. The index fingers did not touch. A fast motion that she almost missed. One index finger dropped and slid against his chest.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Loverboy,” the biker called out. “Do a better job of watching your six. I can’t always handle the task.” The engine revved. “Might want to jump back,” he advised Emerson.
She didn’t have to jump. Gray wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her back. The biker drove away even as his motorcycle growled and shuddered beneath him.
Emerson’s hands lowered to press against Gray’s hold. “You can let me go.”
“Yeah…” His breath blew against her ear. “I don’t think so.”
The rest of the team scrambled toward them. Rylan was no longer reaching for his gun. “What in the hell is happening?” he demanded. “Do you know who that guy was? Shit, shit, I can’t believe he was right here. ”
Emerson did not, in fact, know who he was.
“I know,” Gray said. His tone came off as bored. Sure, why not? Normal night for him, huh? Nothing to see here. A make-out session in the dark, bikers, a would-be mugger…
He was sneaking up on you with a knife. Her breath heaved out as she shoved at Gray’s hold. “Let me go. Now. ”
He let her go.
Trinity bounded forward. “Pretty sure that was Cassius Striker. He’s the leader of one of the most notorious motorcycle clubs in the US, and he was just here. Just, what, talking with you both?” Her voice rose. “While the rest of us were drinking inside?”
“Yeah, it was Cass.” Again, Gray seemed bored. “It’s called talking with a source, something I am sure you can all understand.”
“Cassius Striker is your source?” Malik rocked back on his heels. “Sorry, Agent Stone, but I have to call BS. No way that man trades intel on his MC.”
“He trades intel when he wants to find the killer who recently took out one of his members.” Gray glanced at Emerson. “You dropped the coat.”
Crap. She had. She rushed to grab it.
He beat her. Picked it up. Put it back around her shoulders. His touch didn’t linger.
She wanted it to linger.
“Be in the office at 0600 tomorrow,” Gray directed the group. “I’ll brief you on the case, but Dr. Marlowe and I will be the primaries. We’ll be working undercover.”
“Undercover?” Rylan edged closer. “Undercover as what? You gonna pretend to be a member of Cassius’s MC?”
“No, I’m going to pretend to be Dr. Marlowe’s husband. Pretend to be hopelessly and completely in love with her.”
She wasn’t the only one to have her jaw hit the ground. The whole group was stunned.
“Any other questions?” Gray drawled.
Everyone shouted at once.
“Too fucking bad,” Gray returned. “See you at 0600.” His fingers curled around Emerson’s elbow. “Now I have to go brief my wife.”