Chapter 1 #3
Her brows snapped together. “Is this your motorcycle?” She shifted her position, adjusted her legs so that she straddled the massive bike, and her hands flew to grip the handlebars.
“Because I love it. One hundred percent love it.” She did.
Agnes was not just blowing smoke up his cute, jean-clad ass.
“I bet it feels like you are flying when you drive this thing.” A blissful sigh escaped her.
“Any chance you’ll let me go for a spin? I promise to be very, very careful.”
“You will drive my bike over my dead body.” Flat. Nope, more guttural than flat.
She shrugged. “Your funeral then—”
“Agnes.”
She blinked. She also did a careful sweep of the street. Ah…there was the would-be attacker. Slumped outside. “Excuse me!” Agnes raised her voice as she shouted toward the bald and bearded biker. “You tried to kill a man tonight!”
He scuttled away. A fast scuttle for someone so large.
Sighing, she let go of the handlebars. She swung her body so that she no longer straddled the beautiful beast of a bike. “Excuse me,” Agnes signed because Cass was in her way. “But I am going to have chase after that man and arrest him.” She hated having to chase fleeing perps. So exhausting.
“For fuck’s sake,” Cass rasped. He reached out for her hips. Repositioned her on the bike so that once more, she was straddling the thing. “I’m not filing charges. You aren’t arresting him.
“You should press charges against him,” Agnes told Cass.
His jaw dropped. Then…booming laughter swept from him.
Her eyebrows snapped together. “That was not a joke.”
His hand slid across her thigh. “This skirt is too damn short.” He tried to haul the skirt down a few more inches.
It would not be hauled.
He swore.
She smiled. “Thanks for noticing the shortness. That was the whole reason I bought it.”
Because of the nearby street lamp, she could see that hard jaw of his as it locked.
“When you’re straddling me,” he continued in his rough and deep voice, “it’s gonna hike up way too far.”
When you’re straddling…Her mouth must have dropped open.
“Scoot back, Agnes,” he ordered. “Then lock your arms around me.”
Oh, he meant straddling him…on the bike. Not in bed. Sure. Check.
She’d hired a rideshare driver to drop her off at the bar, so she didn’t have her own transportation home. A deliberate choice because parking in that neighborhood could be a challenge. Unless, of course, you had a motorcycle. Like he did.
But she didn’t scoot back yet. “Do you seriously not want to press charges against your attacker?” Agnes asked. The attacker was gone, but if they gave chase right then—
“I just kicked the shit out of him. MC justice. It’s over.”
She wasn’t so sure. “That was an attempted murder, an assault at the very least.”
He grunted. “Scoot. Back.”
Fine. She scooted back. After all, she did need a ride home. This would save her from having to use her app to get a driver back to the bar for a pickup.
Cass didn’t immediately settle in the seat in front of her. He glared more at her.
Agnes decided to keep talking. “Once you two got in that fun circle and started fighting, things got confusing, as least as far as who was the vic and who was the perp—”
“He came at me with a table leg. I defended myself. Case closed.” He bent and unlocked the helmet that had been hooked to the motorcycle’s frame. A big, dark helmet. With his jaw locked, he plunked that helmet down on her head.
She smiled. “Safety first, huh?” She secured the chin strap. “I can appreciate that, but do you want to go borrow a helmet from someone else? That way, you’ll be covered, too?”
He took the small purse that she still had over one shoulder.
She’d had that bag the entire time. Mostly because it contained some very necessary items. Like my gun.
Though she hadn’t pulled the gun because Agnes hadn’t wanted to escalate the situation more than necessary.
Cass took the bag and tucked her purse into one of the motorcycle’s saddle bags. Then he straddled the bike.
Cass just hopped right in front of her. Took up a whole lot of space.
He also had the engine roaring and revving, and the seat vibrated beneath her legs with a rumble that took her by surprise and had Agnes’s hands flying out to curl around Cass’s waist.
“Hold on,” he ordered.
Her fingers fluttered around his waist. Then pressed a little harder.
Before they flew off into the night, Agnes realized she should probably explain to him why she’d gone to see him in the first place.
Why she’d deliberately worn the sexy outfit and prissed inside the most dangerous bar in town even as she kept her gun stored in her cute purse. “Ah, Cass, about tonight…”
“You’re gonna get exactly what you wanted.”
What she wanted? But she hadn’t told him yet. She hadn’t mentioned the partnership that she was hoping he’d make with the FBI. With her. “I am?”
“Yeah, baby, you are. You are gonna get fucked long and hard by the leader of the Night Strikers.”
Her jaw dropped. She had zero words.
The bike leapt forward, and as it raced through the night, with her body plastered to his, Agnes held on to Cass for dear life.
“The sonofabitch just left.” Rage seethed in the words. “And he’s with some woman. A hot redhead. Called her his.”
The motorcycle was already gone from sight.
“Hell, no, he wasn’t taken out.” His grip tightened on the phone as he slouched in the shadows. The wood of the building behind him pressed into his back. “Cass flattened the jerk in like, two seconds, then he carried out his lady.”
“He carried her out?”
“Uh, yeah.” Hadn’t he just said that?
“In front of everyone?”
Again… “Yeah.”
“And he fucking called her his?”
He nodded. What was the big deal? “Cass hooks up with women all the time. No one stays long with him.” The dude had zero permanency in his life. No connections. No big ties. No weaknesses.
“Follow them.” The order came through the line, loud and clear.
Uh…
The rumble of the motorcycle filled the air, but Cass and the mystery woman were long gone. “That could be a problem.”
“Follow them. Now. I want to know who the woman is. I want to know where she lives. I want to know every single thing about her.”
The goal had been to eliminate Cass. Not to take out some random hookup of his. He didn’t particularly like hurting women. Not his thing at all. As far as following them…
Shit. That’s gonna be impossible. He fired up his ride. A much less impressive motorcycle than Cass’s, second hand, and not very fast.
But he’d do his best. He’d try to find Cass. Find the woman.
And figure out who the hell she was.