by Lane Hart
The silent but deadly look she gives me says she’s not buying it.
“Fine, so I am. I was. But if casual is all I wanted right now, don’t you think it would’ve been a lot easier for me to get my dick sucked from one of the club sluts who party right above my apartment rather than drive two hours to see a woman who may or may not slap me or shoot me on sight?”
“Why did you come back?” she asks. “I can’t help feeling like this is just some kind of game to you.”
“It’s not,” I tell her sincerely. Jesus, is she gonna make me hand over my balls? May as well. I don’t ever let myself get this attached to a woman, much less tell her shit. For whatever reason, though, I admit to Peyton, “Honestly, I have no fucking clue why I can’t forget you. But I can’t. And I don’t want you to forget me either.”
Her face softens as she looks me in the eye. “It’s pretty hard to forget the first man I was with after my husband.”
“Husband?” I repeat as I jackknife into a sitting position, my heart trying to jump out of my chest. How could I make the same mistake twice in this fucking lifetime? “You’re married?”
“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Divorced.”
“You’re divorced,” I mutter, and my shoulders slump in relief when I belatedly remember her mentioning that she has an ex-husband the first night in the bar. Thank fuck. “How long were you married?”
“Six years,” she answers. “We met the last year of graduate school and got married right before we joined the agency.”
“What happened?”
“He’s an agent too,” she explains. “And he worked undercover. Often.”
“So, distance was the problem?”
“No, him fucking women while he was undercover to ‘play up the part’ was the problem.”
“Oh,” I mutter. “He cheated on you?”
“Frequently,” she responds with a nod of her head.
“How did you find out what was going on?” I ask.
“His partner told me he thought he was screwing around. So, then I went through his things when he was in the shower and found his second phone that had texts and voicemails from other women. Ones that left no doubt…”
“Wow.”
“Yeah,” Peyton says. “So that’s why I was glad to leave Georgia for a while when they offered me this temporary position.”
“How long have you been separated?” I inquire.
“Over a year ago.”
“A year?” I echo. “So I’m the first person you’ve slept with…in a year?”
“Over a year,” she replies again. “And don’t look so smug.”
“I can’t help it. I have a naturally smug face,” I tease, while inside, I’m doing cartwheels because she picked me for some crazy reason after waiting a year to get over her ex-husband.
“What Jack did was a huge betrayal. And if he could cheat on me after being married for six years, then it was hard to think about being with a stranger and expecting him to not do the same thing to me right away.”
“Is that your way of telling me that you don’t want me to fuck anyone else?” I ask.
“Like you would do anything I asked,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes.
“I would, if you tell me that sex with me is better than it was with your cheating husband.”
She’s silent for so long, I nearly give up. Finally, she says, “Sex with you is so much better than with my cheating bastard husband. Which makes sense.”
“Why is that?” I ask.
“Because you’ve probably been with ten times as many women as him.”
“Practice makes perfect,” I reply.
“Yeah, I guess it does,” Peyton agrees.
“And you have my word that I won’t fool around with anyone else as long as we’re seeing each other,” I tell her, promising her something I’ve never offered a woman before.
It’s stupid because agreeing to be monogamous is like one step away from having feelings, something I can’t afford to catch. Still, I don’t want to stop fucking Peyton just yet. Who would walk away from the best sex of their life when they finally find it?
“Right,” she agrees at my assurances, sounding sarcastic and doubtful that I’ll keep my word before she climbs off of me. “We better get some sleep.” After she turns off the light, she pulls the covers over us and then cuddles up to my chest. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” I say, and then I try to drift off to sleep, wondering if she’ll let me stay over tomorrow night too.
It’s a slippery slope I’m on, but even if my life depended on it, I don’t think I could stop myself from seeing Peyton.
Chapter Eleven
Peyton
For the last few weeks, I’ve been living my usual boring life during the day. At work, I bust my ass interviewing confidential informants, testifying in court as needed for cases I helped blow open after I first moved here, and investigating potential criminals.
Then at night, it’s like I become someone else with Dalton. Someone I don’t even recognize, but who I sort of love. He sets me free from all of the insecurities I’ve had for so long because it’s impossible to feel anything but sexy when I’m with him and he’s talking dirty to me while stripping me out of my clothes within seconds of seeing me.
Afterward, we lie in bed, talking and joking while recovering for the next round, since one time never seems to be enough for either of us.
I’ve never had a situation like this with a man that revolves solely around sex. If I didn’t know any better, I would almost say we’re in a relationship since Dalton stays over at least four or five of the seven nights each week.
The only problem is that in the morning, when the sun comes up and we climb out of bed, there’s always an enormous elephant in the room. Dalton slips on his ever-present leather cut, and I know he’s going to drive back to the coast to do…whatever it is he does in the MC while I put on my suit and head into the federal building to do my job that centers around arresting criminals.
“Bradley,” Stan Sommers, the Assistant United States Attorney that’s over the criminal division says in his deep authoritative voice, startling me when he walks into my small office since I’m only here temporarily.
“Yes, sir. What can I do for you?” I ask, trying not to panic and think the worst, that he somehow found out about my stolen laptop or the fact that an outlaw MC hacked into our system.
“Just wanted to drop by and see how the investigations are coming along,” he says, leaning a meaty shoulder covered in a white dress shirt against the door frame and sipping on his steaming cup of coffee. His posture all but screams cool and laidback, so I’m going to take that as a sign that I’m not fucked.
“Things are going well,” I tell him. “I’ve been working with some of the local law enforcement agencies on the motorcycle gangs you had on the list, comparing notes with them to cover all of our bases.”
“Great,” he says. “What about the Savage Kings?”
“Ah, what about them?” I ask, hoping the fact that I’m close to a full-blown panic attack isn’t visible on my face or in the rapid movements of my chest.
“Anything concrete that we can tie them to?” he questions.
“Um, no, sir. Not yet at least.”
“Keep digging. We can’t afford to let them get away with the charges they’ve been building up all around them. It’s possible that local agencies are helping them cover their tracks.”
“Right, of course,” I tell him. “Maybe I should, um, take off for the coast for a few days to meet with the local departments. Sitting down face-to-face with them, I may be able to get a better feel for where their allegiances lie.”
“Great idea. Send me your notes while you’re gone,” he says.
“Will do, sir,” I agree before he finally turns around and walks away.
Blowing out a breath of relief, I pull out my cell phone and consider sending Dalton a message to let him know I’ll be in his nec
k of the woods in a few hours. Instead, I decide to surprise him and just see what he’s up to during the days after he leaves my bed.
Dalton
“Where have you been disappearing to every night?” Reece asks when he wanders into my apartment in the basement of the clubhouse.
“Out,” I say, without looking away from the accounting program on my computer screen. The end of the month is approaching quickly, and I’m behind because I’ve been spending my nights with Peyton and my days visiting my old man. I try not to think too hard about how being with Peyton makes getting through the tough days a little easier…
“Out where?”
“None of your fucking business,” I mutter.
“Sort of is my business, and the MC’s, when you’re spending more time with the ATF agent than you are here.”
Finally, turning my gaze to him, I narrow my eyes and tell him, “I handle my shit for the MC. And I don’t need anyone’s permission or approval for where I want to spend my nights.”
“She’s using you,” he tells me, driving an imaginary knife right through my guts. “Just as soon as you slip up and give her the intel she needs, she’ll take us all down.”
“Peyton doesn’t give a shit about the MC,” I snap at him. “She agreed to drop the investigation against us, thanks to me.”
“Oh really?” Reece asks with a chuckle, his arms crossing over his chest and a know-it-all smugness plastered across his face.
“Yeah, really. The Savage Kings don’t have anything to worry about with the feds.”
“You’re absolutely sure about that?” he questions.
“Yes!” I exclaim.
“How sure? Would you say a hundred percent?” he inquires.
Jesus, why can’t he leave this shit alone?
“Yeah, I am one hundred fucking percent certain that the feds are through with the MC!”
“Well, in that case, I hate to break it to you, brother, but you’re completely fucking wrong.”
“Wrong?” I huff. “How the hell am I wrong?”
“Because your agent has been parked right outside the clubhouse for over two hours.”
“She is?” I ask, pushing back my rolling computer chair to get to my feet. “She could just be here to see me.”
“Right, like a friendly, personal visit?” he offers.
“Exactly,” I tell him, even though I’m not entirely sure why Peyton would show up here and not call to let me know…
“Then why did Jade just call Torin and tell him she has a meeting with her tomorrow?” Reece asks.
“Shit,” I mutter as I scrub my palm over my face. Jade is Chase and Torin’s stepsister, and the local sheriff.
“You need to find out what’s going on, and then get the hell away from her before you fuck up and take us all down with you,” he warns.
“That’s not gonna happen.” I grab my cut from the foot of the bed and slip my arms through it. “Just give me a few days to talk to her,” I say, then smirk to hide my real concern. “And could you not tell Torin or anyone that she’s lurking outside? Maybe she’s just stalking me.”
“Yeah, a few days,” he agrees. “But if any more feds start circling outside like vultures, I’ll have to take it to the table.”
“Fine,” I agree with a sigh.
Chapter Twelve
Peyton
Four hours or so after I left the office, I’m still sitting outside the Savage Asylum with a pair of binoculars, watching and waiting. Various guys in leather cuts come and go on Harleys, some with beards like the club’s logo, some clean-shaven like Dalton. During the slow periods, I make a few phone calls to the Carteret Sheriff’s office and the Wilmington PD to set up appointments to meet with leadership over the next few days.
All afternoon while I wait, I don’t see Dalton, but his unique bike, blue among all the black, sits in the lot, so I’m guessing he’s inside.
My phone rings right on time, a few minutes after five o’clock, which is when he knows I’m usually leaving the office. How is it that I’ve already come to start anticipating his call after seeing him for just a few weeks?
“Hello,” I answer, even though I’m pretty certain it’s Dalton calling from the “unavailable” phone number.
“Whatcha doin’?” he asks casually, but just the simple phrase makes me smile.
“Just leaving work,” I reply like usual.
“Good. Want me to head over?” he offers. He’s been spending almost every night with me. Is it stupid of me to think that if he’s in my bed, he can’t be with anyone else? It is because he has the whole day to screw around with women here in Emerald Isle before coming back to my place. But I have yet to smell another woman’s perfume on him. He could just be showering after his day romps. Like he showers each morning before leaving you, my heart throws in my face.
“You don’t have to come over tonight,” I tell him.
“Well, what if I really, really want to?” he lowers his voice and asks coolly, making my hormones cheer.
“I want to see you too, but I’m not gonna be home,” I reply.
“You’re not?” he asks, sounding surprised. “So where will you be?”
“Girls’ night out with my friend.”
“You’re going to the bar to pick up guys with Quincey?” he asks, his words crisper, almost like he’s jealous.
“We’re just going out to dinner. No guys,” I further my lie.
“So, then I could come over afterward…” he offers.
“Not tonight. It’ll probably be late.”
“You know I don’t have a curfew, kitten,” he says with a chuckle.
“I know, but some people have to get up early and go to work tomorrow morning. The later you get started, the later I’ll be awake.”
“I could just come over and sleep in the same bed as you, no funny business,” he says, which we both know is a lie. There’s always funny business when the two of us are together. Usually several rounds before we’re finally able to stop mauling each other and fall asleep.
“Maybe this weekend,” I tell him.
“This weekend?” Dalton exclaims. “What about tomorrow night? And Thursday night? You have plans then too?”
“I’ll be traveling. For work,” I admit.
“Alone?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he grumbles.
“I can take care of myself,” I assure him. “I’m a federal agent with extensive training, remember? There’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Oh really?” he asks. “No one can sneak up behind you and take you by surprise?”
“No,” I answer, but still look up in my rearview mirror just to check.
“You sure about that?” he asks, and then there’s a knock on my driver side window that makes me gasp so suddenly that I nearly choke on the intake of air. Dark clothes are all I can see at first until I glance up and see his smug face.
“Even if I hadn’t heard your gasp of surprise, I would’ve seen you jump,” the jerk says into the phone with a grin stretched across his face.
I end the phone call and push the button to roll down my window.
“Were you trying to give me a heart attack?” I ask him.
“No, I was proving a point and trying to see if you would be straight with me. You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he says, leaning his crossed forearms on the windowsill to duck his head inside to steal a kiss from my cheek.
“Why? Because the Savage Kings are dangerous?” I question, threading my fingers through the top of his soft, messy blond hair just because I can. Going all day at work without touching him or seeing him is harder than it should be.
“Possibly, if they feel threatened by some feds,” he answers. Stealing another kiss, this time from my lips, he says, “We’ve been watching you watch us from the surveillance cameras.”
“Oh,” I mutter since I thought I was parked far enough away from the property. “And, let me gu
ess, there’s a back door?”
“Yep,” Dalton answers before his lips press against mine again. “So, now will you tell me the truth about what the hell you’re doing out here?”
“I’m in town for a few days,” I explain.
“Investigating us?” he pulls back and looks at me through narrowed blue eyes. “I thought you agreed to lay off of us in exchange for your laptop.”
“Yes, I did. The man I work for, the U.S. Attorney, didn’t though. He wants me to keep digging, so that’s what I’m doing.”
“Do you think that if you sit here long enough, you’ll catch us breaking the law?” he asks sarcastically.
“No, I just stopped by while I set up a few meetings in the area,” I respond honestly.
“Meetings with whom?” he asks, but I just blink silently at him in response. “Fine, don’t tell me,” he huffs before cutting his eyes over to the bar. “Where are you staying while you’re in town?”
“I have a hotel room at the, um, Jolly Roger. There aren’t many hotels around here, and most are booked this time of year.”
A bigger grin spreads over Dalton’s face before he says, “You, an ATF agent, are staying at the Jolly Roger?”
“Yeah? Why?” I ask.
“Oh, nothing,” he says, still smirking. “It’s just that the Kings own the hotel.”
“They do? How did I not know that?”
“We bought it through dummy corps,” Dalton responds, then points his index finger at me. “But you can’t use any of that against us. It’s all completely legit. We had attorneys set it up.”
“I’m sure you did,” I scoff. “So that’s how you launder your money?”
“I think I’ve given you enough of our secrets,” he says before his gaze lowers to the front of my blouse where the proof of how much my body enjoys his close proximity is obvious, even through my bra. “Are you headed to the hotel now?”
“Maybe,” I answer.