by KB Winters
I knew it would have to be me who put out the fire, because it wouldn’t be Jamie. Just a little longer. I needed to make this kiss last because I knew it would be our last. It had to be, for the sake of our friendship. His thumb slid across my nipples, back and forth, back and forth, until I arched my back with a gasp. I had to stop.
Now.
With a reluctant sigh, I pulled back and blinked the world around us into focus. Next thing I knew we were on the sofa, me perched on Jamie’s lap, his thick cock nestled between my thighs, and dammit, I wished like hell he was just some guy I didn’t give a shit about. He pushed up, and I moaned again, long and low, keeping my eyes shut until I had my wits about me.
“This is why we can’t be roommates, Jamie.”
“But we’re still friends, right?”
“Yeah, of course we are.”
“You sure?”
I nodded and stood on shaky legs.
“As soon as I get home for a nice cold shower, we’ll be good as gold.”
Jamie laughed and stood, not doing a damn thing to hide the giant boner that had to be uncomfortable for him. “Think of me while you hose yourself off, then.”
“Right back at ya,” I told him with a laugh.
“Don’t worry, I will.” Then, just to prove what a standup guy he was, Jamie opened the door and walked me to my car. “See you soon, Madds.”
“Not if I see you first.” I rushed home because that cold shower was calling my name, except about halfway back to Ashby Manor, I paused. That was one hell of a kiss, and now that I knew what—and how much—he was packing, my body was on fire, and only Jameson could put it out.
Turn around. Go back.
I shook my head at that wayward thought. “Nope. Not doing that, no matter how much I want to.” And I wanted to, a lot. I hadn’t felt all that deprived of sex or male companionship since Molly had gone missing, but two kisses with Jameson and I was rubbing my thighs together like a cat in heat. Hot and hungry for him. Only for him.
It’s not too late. Turn around.
He hadn’t made a secret of the fact he wouldn’t mind adding benefit to our friendship so I could go back, but then what? Then came the inevitable, the distance, and then the disappearance altogether. Jamie was my best friend, and I wasn’t ready to lose him. Not yet.
I could have him in my fantasies. For now.
And that would have to be enough.
Chapter Sixteen
Jameson
“This isn’t really your type of hangout is it?”
Beau Vanderbilt, Moon’s son, looked up with a laugh as he gazed around the darkened twenty-four-hour bar as though he’d just seen it for the first time. He’d texted me to meet him here, but why did he have to pick such a god-awful early hour of the morning? I’m not sure the roosters were even up yet.
The place was older than dirt and still had box TVs on the wall, two of them, along with wood paneling, fake leather seat covers and gum under every table in sight.
“No, I guess it’s not really.” He pointed to the seat opposite him by way of an invite to sit down, “and that makes it perfect. That and it has no free wi-fi, no cameras or other surveillance tools. Totally analog.”
“Sounds interesting.” I slid into the seat and held my hand out. “It’s good to see you man, it’s been a long time.”
“It has. No time off when you work for the NSA, especially my department. I told them I had to run home for the weekend to check on my mom.”
I furrowed my brow. “What’s wrong with Moon?” I pictured her, so lively and maternal in her long hippie dresses and muscled arms filled with tinkling bracelets. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine, and my dad is too, but this information is too sensitive to trust to unsecure tech. Family’s always a good excuse to get off by myself. But before we get into all that, catch me up.”
I sighed and nodded. “Ma is great, Dad is still a grumpy old man. Charlie’s the president of the Reckless Bastards, and he and Savannah are a thing.”
“Savannah?”
“Formerly Rhymer, now O’Connor. It’s a long story, and too early for the beer I’ll need to fill you in.”
“Says who?” Beau flashed a teasing grin and sat back. “All right, go on.”
“Charlie is doing a good job as Prez, at least as far as I can tell, but there’s been some weird tension between us—on his part—because Savannah knew Mueller, and I’ve questioned her a few times. He was cool with me being a cop, until he wasn’t.”
Beau let out a low whistle. “Talk about complicated. You sure you don’t want to come work with the Feds?”
I laughed and shook my head. “I’m actually working with them now. It’s a lucky break, at least it will be if I can help them crack the double murder. If not, I might be stuck on patrol forever.”
“That sure as shit won’t happen. Trust me.” Beau flashed a confident smile that was so unlike the shy kid I’d known back in the day, and almost without me seeing it, produced a flash drive. “Your hunch was right, Dietrich Mueller, also known as Richie Mueller by friends, family and FBI members alike, is…well he was undercover.”
“No shit?” The words shouldn’t have shocked me as much as they did. Savannah had good instincts, and Mueller’s lack of a past hadn’t added up to me at all. “How long?”
“More than a decade, which is quite the long play for the Feds. That’s also why the file was locked up tight on a need to know basis. The only ones with access are Mueller’s former handler, Amy Mendoza, the Nevada ADIC ,and the FBI Director.”
“Explains why the FBI has been all over this case almost from the beginning. But it doesn’t explain everything.”
Beau shrugged. “Even my magic has its limits, Jamie. But what’s on that drive should point you in all the right directions. Use it wisely.”
I nodded. “Thanks for this.”
“Family helps where we can, right?”
“Damn straight.” Even if Charlie didn’t seem to get that these days. “I noticed your text this morning was from a Nevada number.”
Beau shrugged. “Been a Creech for a few months now, which is on a need to know basis as well.”
“Got it. And your girl? She come with?”
“Nope,” he sighed. “She didn’t want to move to the fucking desert so we split. No big deal.” It seemed like a big deal to me, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, I wouldn’t push.
“Still sucks.”
“It does.”
I shoved the flash drive in my pocket and sat back. “How long are you in town?”
“Long enough to let my mom fill me up with food and pester me about finding a woman. And a beer or five when your shift is over?”
Shit. I glanced down at my watch to see I had exactly forty minutes before my shift started. “Sounds good, Beau. Thanks for your help.”
“What help?”
I let out a low laugh. “Exactly. Later, cuz.”
I made my way back to my condo with a heavy mind because I knew what I had to do, what the right thing to do was, but I still felt torn. I had to hand over this information to Agents Beck and Marshall. It wasn’t my problem that Mueller spent too many years undercover and forgot which side of the law he was on. That was probably what got him killed. Not following protocol and not checking in with his handler. Since the Reckless Bastards didn’t do business with Mueller or anyone like him, I had no conflicts about sharing.
But, just to be sure, I took the quickest shower I could manage and spent a few minutes looking at the documents on the flash drive . I made a copy for myself because Agent Beck didn’t like to share, and I had a feeling she wouldn’t take this information well at all. With ten minutes to spare, I stored my bag, hopped on my bike, and hauled ass to the precinct.
The first person I spotted was Agent Marshall. I cornered him by the coffee pot, and he greeted me with a warm, professional smile.
“Officer Ellison, what can I do for you?”
“
I have some information that’s not going to go over well with, well you know who. Got any advice?”
Marshall finished pouring and then doctoring his coffee and turned back to me with a shrug. “I always prefer to rip the band-aid off fast instead of pussy-footing around. Be blunt and to the point. Say what you need to say and no more.” He laughed at my skeptical look. “I said it’s my preferred method.”
“And it works?”
“Hit or miss, but I’m not one for prettying up my words, so it works for me, if not for everybody else.”
“Good to know. Thanks.”
“Thanks for what?” Agent Beck popped her head into the breakroom, From the smirk on her face, she’d been eavesdropping, at least a little.
“Just some friendly cop advice,” I told her. “What’s up? Any news on what Bonnie and Mueller were doing together?”
“No,” she sighed. “Have you found anything?”
I nodded and looked around. “We should go somewhere more private for this.” It wasn’t something we needed the entire precinct to learn this early in the investigation.
“Just tell me now,” she said, her tone impatient as her blue eyes rolled skyward.
I let out a long-suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know if you noticed or not Agent Beck, but Sadie didn’t seem all that surprised when we showed up, did she?”
“She’s a lot of things but stupid isn’t one of them, Ellison. She had to know we’d be around sooner or later.”
“And you think her attorney just happened to be there when we arrived?” I let out another breath. “Come on, Beck, use your head. These are my colleagues, so I’m not making any accusations, but wasn’t that just a little suspicious to you?”
Marshall let out a short cough and nodded. “He’s right. Let’s go into the war room. No two-way windows and no speakers. Now.” He led us down the hall and into the room, closing it behind him and leaning on it.
“Let’s hear it.”
“I’ve been doing some digging into Bishop Mueller and something came up.” My dramatic pause was just to piss off Beck. “Does the name Richie Mueller ring a bell?”
There was a hint of recognition in Marshall’s brown eyes, but Agent Beck gave me a blank stare. “No. Is he another fucking gangster in the tri-city area?”
“No, that’s the name on Mueller’s paycheck that comes from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He’s been undercover all this time.”
Marshall’s eyes went wide, but he otherwise stayed silent, processing the information and probably searching for any signs that he’d missed.
Beck sucked in a breath, her pale face turning six different shades of crimson before it settled on furious red.
“You’re lying. You’re covering something up.” She glared at me hard, but I was unfazed because I’d prepared for this.
“Whatever you’re hiding, I’ll find it, Ellison, and there will be no place for any of you or your biker gang to hide.”
I shouldn’t have, but I laughed at her weak ass threat.
“Fuck you, Beck. If you didn’t want me on this case because of my so-called biker gang, you shouldn’t have asked for me. Because that’s how this happened in case you forgot.”
“Guys,” Marshall said, his tone deep and forceful, like an annoyed father.
“No, Marshall, let him finish. Got anything else to say, rookie?” I heard the threat, and I was done bending over for this bitch.
“Yeah. I do. You’re a federal fucking agent with a shit ton of more experience than me. So why don’t you go do some goddamn police work and check it out for yourself? I won’t tell you how I found out, so save your threats. Just do your own research and maybe start with someone named Amy Mendoza. Maybe that’ll explain why you were called in on a local double murder.”
“That’s not true. They would have told us,” she insisted desperately, gaze darting to Marshall for assurance.
“Only three people other than Mueller know.”
“If you’re making this up.”
I smiled and folded my arms. “Or maybe you already knew and now you’re covering for whatever dirty shit he was into. Maybe you’re trying to take over his role in the city.”
“Fuck you!”
The door slung open so fast that Marshall barely escaped a doorknob to the spine. “What the fuck is going on in here?” Sarge barged into the room with a red face and angry eyes. “Well?”
“I found out Mueller was undercover FBI and Beck can’t handle it. Accused me of lying and covering for my biker gang.”
His eyes widened in surprise, and he turned to Agent Beck. “That true?”
She nodded.
“Fuck this. I’ll be back at my desk on Monday, sir, to get back to proper field training.”
I didn’t need her shit or her constant judgment. I didn’t ask for this opportunity, and now that I knew how Beck really was, I held no hope she would do anything to help my career.
Sarge sighed, meaty hands fisted at his hips. “You sure that’s what you want to do, Ellison?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“All right. Jenkins is solo today, so I’ll have him swing back to scoop you up.”
“Thank you, sir.” With one final glare for Beck, I left the room feeling equal parts anger and relief. Overall the anger won out, and I shot off a quick text to Madison.
Jameson: How does a Saturday night ride through Vegas sound?
Madison: Like fun. I’ll be there at eight.
Chapter Seventeen
Madison
If you had asked me before Jameson came into my life, how I felt about motorcycles, I would have given an ambivalent shrug, maybe rolled my eyes and grumbled about the noise. But the truth was, there was nothing—outside the bedroom—that fired me up like having my arms wrapped around a big strong man on the back of a Harley. Smooth vibrations between my legs. And the whole time, sporting a big ass, goofy grin.
The wind whipped through my hair and with the faceguard open, the night air chilled my skin, overheated thanks to being wrapped around Jameson’s big, strong hard body.
This is nice. It was really nice to be out with a friend, especially today. Ashby Manor was just so damn heavy all the time. Understandable, but it was wearing on me. It went from sad to angry to conspiring on a whim, and I’d had about enough of it. Calvin was so damn sad all the time, and then just as quickly flying into fits of rage. I understood and offered as much sympathy as I could, but holy shit it was exhausting. And the fear he’d go back to self-medicating ate at me.
It was like being back in San Bernardino all over again, constantly afraid and walking on eggshells in case I pissed off the wrong person.
So yeah, strapped to the back of Jameson’s bike was the best part of my week, giving me a night free of tension and emotion.
We’d been riding in silence for almost an hour, taking in the sights of the city. The partygoers, the tourists, the sex workers, and street performers, the lights and the fountains, and even the mountains. With every mile that passed, my shoulders loosened and relaxation wove its way through my body until I was practically melted against Jameson’s back.
Eventually, we needed a break, and we found a parking lot close to home filled with bikes. “This cool with you?”
I put my hands on his shoulders and jumped off the bike. “Fine by me. My legs were getting a little wobbly anyway.” I shook out one leg and then the other, before stretching my arms and back.
“Stretch away. I’m gonna go mingle, wanna join me?”
“Nope, I’m good here. You go have fun.” I shooed him away with a smile so he wouldn’t worry. “I’ll be around.” I watched Jameson walk off, his gait long and relaxed, his shoulders broad and strong. The man drew stares everywhere he went, and for the most part, he seemed oblivious.
He accepted a beer with a smile and a handshake and took a long swig that had me feeling jealous of that bottle of beer. Those lips had been on me like that, just a week ago, a
nd still, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Hell, some nights I could still feel his lips on mine, his cock, long and hard, between my thighs.
A hot biker chick with long blonde hair sauntered over to Jameson, her pink painted lips curled into a smile as she held out her hand in introduction. Her riding leathers clung to her body, and Jameson took a long, appreciative look while the woman flirted.
I looked away quickly, ignoring the jealousy that fired up my blood. She was a walking, talking wet dream. Of course, Jameson was interested. Every biker in this parking lot was interested. He’s my friend. Nothing more. I told myself that as many times as I needed to hear it, which was plenty since the woman was shooting her shot in a big way.
Her tits pressed up against his chest as she asked a question. Jamie pointed to her bike, and they fell deeper into conversation about a common interest they shared.
I turned away again, accepting a can of beer from a passing biker. Drowning my sorrows in alcohol was definitely not my jam, not after being raised by an alcoholic, and her revolving door of alcoholic boyfriends. I finished the beer in three gulps to enjoy a nice buzz that would be short-lived, and I turned down the next offer that came my way.
He’s not mine. I did a fairly good job of not looking back at Jameson and biker Barbie, mostly because I didn’t want to see them having such a good time, and I didn’t want to imagine myself their third wheel.
“No thanks,” I mumbled under my breath.
Why stay and torture myself when I could leave and torture myself in private? I turned on my heels and ran right into a very wide, awfully familiar chest. “Jamie? What are you doing?”
His gray eyes stared down at me, sparkling with mischief. “Going somewhere?”
“Yeah, I think I’m gonna head out.” I tried to step around him, but he stepped left when I stepped right, right when I stepped left, damn him. I growled my frustration and fisted my hands on my hips. “Where’s your friend?”
Jamie’s lips twitched in amusement. “My friend is right here. And she’s jealous.”