Before she could answer, Janet, another coworker, came into Breanna’s cubicle. “Special Agent Powers told me to tell you guys that we’re all meeting in the conference room.”
The “conference room” was a round table with six chairs in the breakroom. Breanna turned off her monitor and followed Joel and Janet. Two men sat at the table: Special Agents Richard Raley and Jim Powers. They were investigators with the FBI, and all three of the caseworkers had filled several afternoons surmising why the men were sent to their satellite office. Raley was in his mid-forties, with blue eyes and brown hair that was graying at his temples, whereas Powers was a good ten years younger with dark brown hair and darker brown eyes. Each man was in good shape, but Special Agent Powers looked like his after-work obsession was pumping iron at the gym. They rarely spoke to the social workers, preferring to keep to themselves behind their closed office doors.
Breanna opened the compact fridge, took out a bottle of water, and then sat down, unscrewing the top and taking a deep drink. She stared at the two men as they shuffled papers around, heads bent, eyes fixed downward. After several minutes, the men looked up, and Investigator Raley cleared his throat.
“I wanted to call this meeting to introduce ourselves to you and to let you know why we’re here. I’d like for us to work together, and if you ever have any questions, problems, or information, please find either me or Jim”—he tilted his head in the direction of the younger man to his right—“and let us know.”
The three caseworkers nodded. Breanna sat back in the hard plastic chair and listened as the FBI agent told them they were sent to investigate food stamp fraud. The missing EBT cards immediately entered her mind. Was Steel’s mother committing food stamp fraud? She couldn’t believe the soft-spoken, kind woman would be capable of something like that, but looks could be deceiving.
“Why the hell do people want EBT cards?” Joel asked.
Powers spread his hands out on the table. “The ones selling them need the cash, and the ones buying them are normally unscrupulous retailers. The cards are bought for thirty or fifty cents on the dollar. So if someone has an EBT card for three hundred dollars, then the buyer will give either one hundred fifty or as low as ninety dollars cash for the card. If the buyer is a retailer, he’ll use the three hundred dollars to buy cheap food wholesale, then mark it up three or four times in his store and make a killing. Food stamp fraud costs the taxpayers millions of dollars every year.”
“And the seller gets cash to buy stuff he can’t with the card, like alcohol and tobacco. A lot of times the cash is used to buy guns or drugs. Sometimes drug dealers will take EBT cards instead of cash, giving the junkie twenty-five cents on the dollar. Then the dealer will resell it to a retailer,” Raley said.
Breanna took another sip of her water. “What do you want from us?”
“Information. We need to know who’s reporting an inordinate amount of lost or stolen cards. One time can be excused, but if someone has reported more than two cards missing in a six-month cycle, then fraud is highly likely.” Jim locked his hands together and placed them behind his head.
“Breanna’s been asked by the department to check out clients who’ve had too many cards reported as lost,” Joel said.
“Is that so?” Jim turned to her, and she nodded. “What have you found out?”
“I’m still gathering the information. I should have a report finished by the end of next week.” For reasons she couldn’t comprehend, she didn’t want to tell these FBI agents about Steel’s mother or Mika. Both of the women reported several cards missing, and the common denominator seemed to be Chenoa. She wanted to talk to Steel about it first—Chenoa had enough problems going on in her life—although Breanna knew she was teetering on a thin wire between doing her job and covering up a possible fraud.
“I want to see the report as soon as you complete it, okay?” She nodded. “This is a county-wide problem, but it appears as though it’s happening in higher frequency at the reservation.” Jim turned to Richard. “Anything else you want to add?” He shook his head. “Okay then. Get us that report, Breanna, and let’s all work together in stamping out the fraud. Remember to keep your ears open, but don’t be foolish and try to play amateur sleuth. The investigating part is our job. Don’t forget that.”
Breanna pushed her chair back and stood up. She had a ton of work to input before she got off work, so she settled at her desk and opened the first file on top of the stack.
“That’s a load of shit they just fed us,” Joel said as he lounged against the makeshift wall.
She looked up, surprised at the angry scowl on his face. “I don’t think so. It seems like there’s an excessive number of lost cards being reported at the rez. I’m sure the feds wouldn’t waste their agents for the hell of it.”
“What’s the fucking big deal anyway if someone wants some extra cash to buy a bottle of beer or a pack of cigs? They’re so damn poor around here, why not let them have some fun?”
Breanna turned toward him. “I think the problem is that they’re being ripped off by getting half or less for the amount of their EBT card. Also, the money is used for drugs, and most probably is being taken from their children’s mouths. It’s not a victimless crime by any means.”
“I think it is, and I’m not gonna be part of this fucked-up investigation. Don’t the feds have bigger crimes to solve?” Joel ran his hand through his mop of hair.
“I’m with Breanna on this one. I feel sorry for the children whose parents are selling their cards on the black market for drugs. Also, the retailers who are crooking the clients are giving them a double whammy by making them pay four times the prices for pop, meat, and other things in their stores,” Janet said. Breanna and Joel stared at her. She blushed. “What? Okay, I was eavesdropping. I couldn’t help it. We don’t really have walls.”
Breanna laughed, but Joel continued to scowl. “No one’s forcing anyone to go to the high-priced markets.”
“Yeah, maybe not in bigger cities like Durango or Pueblo, but in Alina and the neighboring towns, there aren’t a lot of choices. Roy’s Market is the closest one near the rez and it’s damned overpriced. Just saying.” Janet crossed her arms.
“I agree with Janet. Sorry to break up the discussion, but I really have a lot of work to finish. I don’t want to be here until seven or eight tonight.” Breanna turned back to her monitor.
“Whatever,” Joel grumbled as he sulked away.
“What the hell is his problem?” Janet whispered when he’d turned into his cubicle.
“Beats me. I think he wishes he was the big rugged agent instead of the social worker.” Breanna smiled and Janet chortled. “Gotta get to work.” Janet nodded and scampered away.
At five thirty, Breanna rubbed her aching eyes and turned off her monitor, then raised her arms high above her head and stretched. She was tired and stiff, and she couldn’t wait to soak in a nice hot bath when she got home. Janet and Joel had already gone home, and when she went into the parking lot, her car was the only one there. Apparently the agents had also left.
On the way home she tried calling Nicholas for the fifth time. As before, there was no answer. She punched in her sister’s number and asked if she’d heard from Nicholas. Shelby told her that she hadn’t seen the fucker and didn’t care if “he rots in hell.” Breanna decided she’d pass on calling Jeremy to see if he’d heard from Nicholas. Since he’d been released from jail, he’d been laying real low, and he and Nicholas hadn’t gotten along since puberty anyway.
She pulled into her garage and slipped into the kitchen, checking her answering machine just in case Nicholas had called her landline. Ever since he’d started using drugs, she set up a landline in case her cell phone didn’t work and he—or worse yet, the police—ever had to get a hold of her. She went to her bathroom, turned on the bath faucets, and stripped out of her clothes. She couldn’t wait to shut out the world.
An hour later she shuffled into the kitchen, her pastel yellow bathrobe snug around her
. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a berry-flavored wine cooler. She grabbed a can of mixed nuts from the cupboard, went into the living room, plopped on her couch, and switched on the TV. As she finished her wine cooler, someone knocked on the door. Wrapping her robe around her tightly, she walked over and looked through the peephole. Shock jolted through her when Steel filled her field of vision. She swallowed hard, then opened the door a crack.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I need to talk to you about Chenoa.” His voice was gruff and his eyes bored into her.
“Did something happen?” She opened the door a little wider.
“Nah. She’s good. I just wanna talk to you about her situation when she gets out.”
Her heart raced and her mouth was as dry as the desert. “I’m exhausted right now. I don’t get paid for overtime. Come to my office tomorrow and we can talk. I’ll be there all day.”
His green eyes flashed. “Open the damn door or I’ll kick it in. I went by your fucking office today and you weren’t there.”
“Maybe next time you can do something unusual, like make an appointment. I told you I’ll be there tomorrow, so come by then.” She started to close the door when his deep voice stopped her cold.
“You’ve got one last chance to open the fucking door or I’m coming in my way.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He grabbed the screen door in his large hands. She heard it groan as he pulled it from its hinges before he busted through her front door, pushing her backward. She fell on the ground, her robe opening and revealing her nakedness. His eyes slowly traveled up her body. Crimson stained her cheeks when his gaze landed on her chest. His stare was hotter than the embers of a glowing fire.
Regaining her composure, she tugged at her robe and covered herself, then struggled to get on her feet. He extended his hand and she smacked it away as she pulled herself up, brushing her tousled hair from her face. “I hope you’re proud of your Neanderthal actions. What the fuck is the matter with you?” She tightened the tie around her robe. “You’re going to pay for a new screen door, a front door, and to fix the door frame.” He laughed, which just pissed her off more. “You actually think this is funny? You asshole!”
“You’re real cute when you’re pissed. Fuck, you got a fire in you. I’d love to see how it spills out in other ways.” He pulled her to him. She struggled and squirmed, trying to get out of his arms. She had to; being that close to him was making her body heat up, and she couldn’t have that happen. “Settle down, will you?”
She gathered all her strength, placed her hands on his chest, and shoved him away. “I don’t want to settle down. I want you out of here. Now.” She placed her hand on her hip.
“Just wanna let you know that you’re beginning to cross a line with me. I don’t take orders from anyone.”
“Not even when you’re trespassing?”
“Especially when I’m doing illegal shit.” He smiled and cocked his head. “Sorry ’bout your door. It was a shitty one. Not safe at all. I’ll make sure I reinforce it before I leave.”
The way he looked at her, with his head to the side and a boyish grin on his face, melted her panties. Tread carefully, Breanna. Don’t do anything stupid. She rolled her eyes and waved her arm toward the couch. “Have a seat. Do you want a beer?”
“Sure. You got any munchies?”
His audacity never ceased to amaze her. “Pretzels and nuts.”
“That’ll work.” He hopped onto her couch, took the remote control, and channel surfed. She groaned loudly and went into the kitchen to grab the items.
She watched as he guzzled the beer, his sensuous lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle. She remembered how pliable and full his lips were on hers when they’d kissed at Cuervos. How strong his arms were around her, how heated his touch was as they pressed their lips together passionately. The memory of it sent a pulse of desire between her legs. “You want another one?” she rasped.
He pinned her with his gaze. “Yeah,” he said huskily.
She forced herself to get up rather than throw herself against his hard chest, heading to the kitchen and grabbing another beer. “What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked as she handed him the bottle. His fingers touched and lingered on hers before she slipped them away, her skin tingling from the small encounter.
“I fucking hate the asshole Mika’s living with. I don’t trust him. There’s something about him that isn’t right. Anyway, there’s no way in fuck I’m letting Chenoa move in with him. I told Mika I want the sonofabitch gone, but I’m not sure she’s strong enough to throw his ass out.”
“What do you want me to do about it? I can’t tell Mika who to live with.”
“You sure as fuck are doing it with me.” His soft features had grown hard and his eyes blazed.
“That’s not fair. The orders were in place way before I came on board. I had nothing to do with them. I can see if the issue can be opened again. I can’t promise you anything.”
“I didn’t come here to ask your permission or your fucking department’s permission. I came here to tell you Chenoa isn’t going back to her mother’s as long as that fucker’s living in the house. I don’t ask permission for anything. Remember that.” He fixed his gaze on her lips.
Desperate to change the subject, she grabbed her wine cooler and laughed. “Do you like berry-flavored wine coolers? I love them. I know they’ve got shit for alcohol, but they’re very refreshing.”
“I never had one. How does it taste?”
“Yummy. If I drink a six-pack, I’ll get a slight buzz. You should taste one.” His penetrating stare was making her nervous. She laughed and then took a big gulp, a few drops of the liquor clinging to her lips.
She went to wipe her mouth with her finger but he stopped her, his face a couple of inches from hers. “Let me do that.” With the tip of his tongue, he lapped up the drops on her lips. “Very tasty,” he said in a low voice. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as their gazes locked on one another’s, their breaths ragged and uneven. “I have a problem, Ms. Quine. Maybe you can help me with it.”
Is he fucking crazy? Talking about his problem when my body is on fire? He smells so good. “What is it?” She tried to focus on what he was saying instead of how each part of her body tingled with desire.
“I can’t get you out of my mind.”
“What?”
“I need to kiss you.” He placed a small gentle kiss on her lips. Then her chin. Then her neck. She held her breath. “I need to touch you.” He clasped his hand over her breast, his fingers expertly slipping inside her robe, scorching her skin. “I need to fuck you. Good and hard. Just the way I know you like it.”
She let out her breath with a long moan, and he captured her lips and swallowed it.
Then they were thrusting their tongues in each other’s mouths as her fingers wrapped around his long hair while his grabbed fistfuls of hers. Her body was buzzing like an electric wire ready to short-circuit.
“You’re so fucking sexy, woman.”
She pressed closer to him and helped him untie her robe. He cupped her breast and then pulled his mouth away from hers, running his tongue and lips over her jawline. “There are so many nasty things I want to do to you,” he breathed against her neck as his finger lightly grazed her nipple. She threw her head back and let her body feel the wicked deliciousness of his digits tweaking and twisting her hardened bud. Each pull went straight to her pussy, which was growing wetter by the second.
“That feels real good,” she murmured as he trailed kisses down her neck. He tugged at her robe, revealing her creamy shoulder. She yelped when he sank his teeth into her soft flesh, causing pain and pleasure as he bit and licked her simultaneously. When his mouth made its way to her hard beads, she cried out in pleasure when he sucked them into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them between nips with his teeth.
“I bet you’re real wet, aren’t you, baby?” he said a
gainst her skin as his fingers feathered over her skin, descending toward the throbbing between her legs.
Then her phone rang and all desire was swept away. It’s probably Nicholas. She squirmed away from Steel and jumped up, clasping the tie around her robe as she dashed to her phone.
“Are you fucking serious?” he growled.
“I’ve gotta get this. It may be my brother. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him all day.”
He slammed his back against the couch and kicked the two beer bottles on the table out of the way before he placed his feet on it.
She picked up the phone and her heart sank when she saw the call was from Lacey. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Why don’t you call me, Nicholas? Damnit. I hate going through this. Deciding she’d call Lacey back later that night, she let the call go to her voicemail. She placed the phone in her robe’s pocket and sat down on one of the table chairs.
Steel craned his neck. “What the fuck are you doing over there?”
She wrung her hands in her lap. “It wasn’t my brother. I’m worried about him, that’s all.”
“Come on over here and I’ll make you forget about him.” He winked at her as he patted the space next to him on the couch.
She shook her head. “We’re attracted to each other. We lost our heads.”
Steel stood up and walked to her. “I didn’t lose shit. I knew exactly what I was doing, and you were fucking loving it. What’s this high school bullshit?”
“You’re my client’s father. I also have your mother on my caseload. You being here is crossing the line, but what we were doing on the couch was way beyond that. I could get fired for this.”
“I’m not gonna fucking tell. And what we were doing on the couch is totally natural. Which asshole screwed you up about men?”
“What do you mean? I’m not screwed up about men.”
“So you think being a tease is normal? I know you want me, but you fucking turn me on, and then you bust my balls. Hell, woman. What’s your goddamn deal?”
“I admit I’m attracted to you, but I already explained how I could lose my job. We need to act like adults and move on. Anyway, I don’t want to get involved with anyone right now.”
STEEL: Night Rebels Motorcycle Club (Night Rebels MC Romance Book 1) Page 9