by Brook Wilder
Now, she and I sat side by side, each with a police scanner blaring through our earpiece as we tried to find any word of the missing girl or what the cops were doing about it. I flipped through channels as far as Utah, hoping that we were wrong about the cartel being involved, but there was nothing.
It was a dead end.
“I’m sick of this,” Eileen said, throwing down her earpiece. “We aren’t learning anything that is remotely helping.”
“Yeah, I agree,” I answered, doing the same. “Do you have anyone that has an ear to the ground?”
Eileen sat back in her chair, her arms over her chest. “There’s Gun Jesus. We could talk with him. If anyone has heard anything, it would be him. He would also know of any new trafficking routes that we don’t know about.”
Gun Jesus. He had been on the CIA’s radar for years, a weapons expert that supplied anyone with the right guns, whatever they were looking for. The man was a legend and if we knew he would agree to it, he would be working for us. I had only met him once and rumor was that he had gotten lost in the desert years ago and found Jesus, hence Gun Jesus.
I had seen him once, while roaming around the Jesters’ clubhouse, but we had never met, which was probably a good thing. “Can’t hurt to give it a shot,” I finally said, grabbing my water. “Make the call.”
She nodded and walked off, pulling her cell from her pocket. I watched her, unable to help it, and wondered what the hell she had thought about last night.
I had thought about her. On top, under me, all the above. Of course, that meant I woke up with another hard-on, but it was well worth it given the dreams I had experienced with Eileen in my arms. When she had come out of the bedroom this morning, there had been that awkward silence between us. I hadn’t pushed it, knowing that this had to be difficult for her to figure out as well.
Hell, I didn’t know what to do.
I wanted her to see me as more than just the CIA agent she knew me as, but that would be asking a hell of a lot from her.
Plus, she would think I was trying to save my neck. I wasn’t. If she could raise her gun and shoot me at the end of all this, then so be it.
I just hoped she wouldn’t.
Eileen turned, tucking her phone back into her jeans pocket. “I called a contact. They are going to see if Gun Jesus will meet with me.”
“I’m going,” I said immediately, the thought of her meeting with the weapons expert without backup making me nervous.
“Of course you will,” she answered. “But not because you demanded. Remember, I’m supposed to be tailing you still.”
Of course she was. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear her say, but at least she wouldn’t go without me.
It wasn’t long before Eileen heard back and we were climbing on my bike, heading out of town to meet with Gun Jesus. She didn’t wrap her arms around my waist, but the occasional brush of her breasts against my back drove me crazy with need.
This woman was going to be the death of me, literally.
Somehow, we made it to an abandoned airstrip, to a bunker-like building that had once been a testing site for fighter jets. “Let me do the talking all right?” Eileen said as soon as we dismounted.
I looked at her, noting how the careful braid that she had done right before we had left was now loose from the ride over and I wanted to tuck the strands behind her ear.
I didn’t, clearing my throat instead. “Why don’t we play good cop, bad cop with him? You can be bad if you want.”
She shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “You don’t stop, do you?”
I gave her an innocent look. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“I will be good cop,” Eileen said, pushing the hair away from her face. “Gun Jesus knows me. He doesn’t know you.”
Which was a damn good thing when speaking with an illegal weapons dealer. “Got it.” I was willing to allow her this boon, only because I needed to keep her on my side.
Together we walked to the bunker but didn’t even make it to the door before a man walked out carrying a rifle, his long brown hair flowing in the cool breeze of the morning. I reached for my gun tucked into the small of my back, but Eileen stilled my movements with a shake of her head. “Gun Jesus! It’s Siren.”
“I know that,” the man called back, his rifle still pointed at us. “I’m not blind. Who’s the chump with you?”
“A friend,” she smiled. “Come on, Gun Jesus, put the gun down. I would hate for you to accidentally shoot me.”
He lowered the gun, his eyes on me. “Why do you need him here?”
“Because you like to point guns at friends,” I said smoothly, relaxing my stance.
Gun Jesus glared at me for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Good reason. I like him. Come on in. I’ve got some new shit to show you.”
Siren let out a breath beside me as we walked into the bunker, the soft sound of music playing in the background. I let out a low whistle as I looked around, wondering how happy my superior would be if we busted this place.
There were weapons everywhere, hanging on the walls, lying in cases for previewing.
Hell, the man even had a damn tank in the back, a U.S.-government-issued tank at that.
“Sit,” he motioned to a few chairs around a scarred table. “I’ll get the whiskey, or do you prefer moonshine?”
“Whiskey’s fine,” Eileen replied, sending the wiry man off to get the supplies.
“Where the hell does the man get this shit from?” I said under my breath, a bit impressed by the sheer amount of firepower he had in his grasp.
“No one knows,” Eileen murmured as Gun Jesus rummaged through a cabinet near the tank. “To tell the truth, I think everyone is scared to ask him anything.”
I watched as he came back with a few shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey, setting them on the table. “Here. Help yourself.”
Eileen reached out and poured three shot glasses as Gun Jesus sat down, sliding his hand through his long hair. I took the glass and downed it, feeling the liquor burn a path to my stomach.
“So,” Gun Jesus said, picking up his shot glass. “What the hell do you want?”
Eileen leaned forward, a catlike smile on her face. “We are tracking a young girl that was taken from Nebraska. I need to know if there are other routes she could have been taken.”
Gun Jesus chuckled before downing his own glass, reaching for the bottle before his glass hit the table. “Siren, Siren. What makes you think I am going to tell you that information?”
“Because,” she said, picking up her glass. “You like me.”
I sat back, attempting not to grin like a fool at her casual attitude about this. She would be one hell of an agent in my opinion.
That and she would look damn good in the standard-issue khakis.
“I might like you,” Gun Jesus was saying, his finger pointed at her. “But does the good Lord feel the same about you, dear Siren?”
She downed her shot, setting it gently on the table. “I would hope so. He’s kept me alive this far. I can only hope he continues to do so.”
Gun Jesus swung his eyes toward me. “What about you, friend of Siren? Is the good Lord on your side?”
“He’s been there a time or two,” I answered honestly. There were times I wondered if it was just divine intervention that had kept me alive.
Gun Jesus stared at me for a moment before nodding. “I can dig that. The good Lord chooses his army wisely.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I nodded right along with him, hoping that this would put us in his good graces. We needed a break, a big one.
“The routes, Gun Jesus,” Eileen urged. “Are there others?”
Gun Jesus blinked, looking at the bottle in his hand before pouring another shot. “When did you start sleeping with him?”
Eileen’s mouth dropped open and I struggled to contain my laughter. The look on her face was priceless, even if Gun Jesus was being a fucking
asshole. “What?”
Gun Jesus nudged his bottle in my direction. “Why him? You’ve never taken a shine to anyone in the club and this dude definitely isn’t club material.”
“Why don’t we stick to the question at hand?” I said, picking up the bottle and pouring another shot. “We’re wasting time and the more you do, the further that girl gets away. You ever seen a young girl in the hands of a bastard before?”
Gun Jesus swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, I have. It ain’t pretty.”
“Then tell us the other routes,” Eileen said gently. “Give us a chance to save her.”
“Fine, fine,” Gun Jesus finally said. “There’s a route, a new one that those damn traffickers are starting to use that was our weapons route. Take I-35 toward San Antonio. There’s a road, Highway 25, that is used as a transfer point right below an old farmhouse. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” Eileen stated, giving him a warm smile. “Thank you.”
Gun Jesus looked at me. “You are gonna need to get him some leather if you are going to take him with you. He looks like a damn cop.”
Well, hell. I was wearing my usual jeans and T-shirt today but looking at Eileen I saw what Gun Jesus was talking about. She fit the part, her vest hugging her curves in a way that was sinful.
“I’ll take care of it,” Eileen said.
“Might help if you go as weapons dealers,” Gun Jesus suggested as he poured himself another shot. “I can loan you some shit.”
“Just make sure it will fit on a bike,” I said as Eileen pushed away from the table.
Thirty minutes later, I slung the duffel bag on the back of the bike, securing it the best I could with some bungee cords. Gun Jesus had given me things I had only seen in the hands of the government, things that shouldn’t be amongst the general public. He had also given us a contact in San Antonio, a weapons dealer that would be looking for the same shit that I would be hauling.
“Let’s go back to the Jesters’ clubhouse,” Eileen said after we said goodbye to Gun Jesus.
“Why?” I asked, cranking the bike.
“Because,” she stated. “We need another bike since mine is still in Nebraska and I want to get you a vest.”
I chuckled. “You making me an honorary member?”
“Something like that,” she replied.
So, I did as she asked, parking the bike right where we had last time she had visited the club. And before I knew it, Eileen was pulling up on a bike that was far bigger than she should be on. “Is that going to be reported stolen?” I asked.
Eileen looked down, a smirk on her face. “Probably. I left him a note.”
I shook my head, firing up the bike. “San Antonio?”
“San Antonio.”
Chapter 10
Siren
I rode next to Daniel on the highway, trying not to think about what lay ahead for us. I hadn’t lied to him. I had ‘borrowed’ a bike from one of the Jester bikers, Two Tone, who was on another assignment right now. I mean, it was the easiest one I could snatch, along with the spare vest that would temporarily make Daniel an honorary member of the Rough Jesters.
Chains would be pissed if he knew, but time was very important right now and I didn’t have time to explain it to him.
Besides, he wasn’t my president, his wife was.
Daniel peeled off the highway and I followed, wondering what he was thinking right now. Gun Jesus was a crazy fool that kept us supplied with weapons to fight the cartel and anyone that met him for the first time walked away just as confused as the weapons dealer was.
But we had gotten what we wanted and I was happy that Daniel hadn’t given away who he was. Gun Jesus would have shot him dead if he had known that he was a CIA agent and probably me as well.
And now we had to pull off being weapons dealers to find this young girl. This was our big break; I could feel it in my bones.
Daniel slowed down and then pulled over, causing me to follow his lead, bringing the bike to a stop on the shoulder of the road. It was larger than my own and my arms were already tired from keeping the weight of the damn thing upright. Daniel climbed off and walked back to me, a grim expression on his face. “We are almost there. Give me the vest.”
I reached into the saddlebag and pulled out the vest, handing it over. “Here.”
Daniel reached for the vest and our fingers touched, sending a shiver through my body. I couldn’t see his eyes but felt the intensity of his stare as he took it and shrugged it on, stuffing his ball cap in the saddlebags.
Without the trademark hat, he looked like a Rough Jester.
“What?” he asked.
“I just … you look the part,” I answered, combing my hand through my tangled hair.
He grinned. “Almost good enough to take a spin on me?”
Rolling my eyes, I pulled my hair into a bun, knowing it would be all over my head again before we got there. “Do you want fake names?”
“No,” he said, his grin fading. “We aren’t going to tell them shit. We are going to show them the weapons and ask for the drop point.”
I looked up at the sky, noting the sun was starting to sink low. “I hope that they were delayed at the transfer point.” If not, we would never catch up with the girl.
“Don’t worry,” Daniel stated. “We will find her.”
I gave him a nod and he climbed back on his bike, pulling back out onto the road. It wasn’t long before we reached the transfer point, right above the old farmhouse that Gun Jesus had directed us to.
There was a truck waiting for us, a large man stepping out the moment we pulled up. I climbed off the bike, glad that I had tucked my own gun in my waistband before we had left Castillo. Things like this made me nervous, especially since I didn’t have the backing of either club behind me. There was always safety in numbers, and I didn’t have it right now.
“Can I help you folks?” he called out as Daniel climbed off his bike.
“We are looking for hill country,” Daniel said, his hand resting on the butt of his gun in the holster under the vest.
“Hill country is that way,” the man said, pointing to the west. “Are you looking for something in particular son?”
Daniel patted the duffel bag on the back of the bike. “I have a trade.”
The man took a few steps closer and it was then that I saw the guns trained on us from a distance, the glint of the barrels barely visible. We were surrounded and there would be no way we would get out of here alive.
Shit.
“Open the bag.”
Daniel did as he was asked but I could see the nervous twitch of his hand as well, not making me feel any better about this situation. The man let out a low whistle as he viewed the contents, a grin splitting his face. “I think we can do some business, son.”
Daniel zipped up the bag, crossing his arms over his chest. “The trade is any hot cargo coming from Nebraska.”
The man glanced at me before laughing, holding his belly as he did so. “That’s not possible.”
I watched as Daniel took a few steps toward him, sliding his sunglasses off so that he could see the hot gaze underneath. “That’s my score or I drive off with this and a hell of a lot more. I believe your dealer will want to know why you turned this shit down.”
The man visibly swallowed, and I knew we had him. There was someone else over him, someone who was looking for things that only Gun Jesus could provide. “All right, fine. Let me make some calls and see what I can do.”
“Much better,” Daniel said, slapping the man on the back.
The man mopped his face with his hand, smearing the sweat around his skin. “The farmhouse there. You can stay the night. Everything will be arranged for tomorrow.”
“My thanks,” Daniel replied, motioning for me to mount my bike. I did so quickly, noting that the guns were now lowered.
“You know,” the man continued as I cranked the bike. “I heard that two clubs south of here were in cahoots, but I didn’t believe
it until I seen you two together.” His eyes found mine. “You need a bed partner tonight, honey?”
“She’s mine,” Daniel growled before I could say anything. “Back off.”
Instead of being surprised, he laughed, holding up his hands. “I had to ask. She’s one fine piece of ass.”
I snorted, peeling off before Daniel could, pointing the bike toward the farmhouse. It wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to, being hit on like that. Many had tried when we first brought the two clubs together, but I hadn’t led any of them on, making sure I stood my ground immediately to keep from rumors swirling.