by Lane Hart
“So, you want me to use her?” I ask for clarification.
“No,” Torin answers, lifting the corner of his lips. “We want her to keep using you.”
Shaking my head in disbelief, I tell him, “That’s just wrong, Pres.”
“Does anyone feel bad for Dalton taking one for the club? Or think the risks outweigh the benefits?” Torin asks the men gathered around the table. “Let’s vote it. All in favor of Dalton whoring himself out for the club?”
“Nay!” I huff.
Yea is spoken in unison by ten assholes and Abe feels the need to add, “When has Dalton not been whoring himself out? At least now it will be for a good reason.”
Some of the guys chuckle while a smirking Torin slams down his gavel on the table ceremoniously and says, “Looks like it passes almost unanimously.”
“Fuck you all,” I tell them as I wave both of my middle fingers in front of my face at them when everyone pushes their chairs back and starts to leave the chapel.
So now I have the MC’s blessing on seeing Peyton. The question is, how the hell do I convince her that she should keep seeing me after the way I treated her the last night we were together, and when we live so far apart?
Chapter Twenty
Peyton
“Your phone’s ringing. Again,” Quincey says as we sip martinis at the bar after work.
“Yep,” I mutter but I don’t answer it. Instead, Quincey grabs it from my purse.
“Unknown,” she reads from the screen.
“Yep.”
“Your gorgeous bad boy is still calling?” she asks. “How long has it been now? Two weeks?”
“Three,” I correct.
“Wow. Three weeks and you’re still refusing to talk to him?” she replies. “You must have the willpower of a nun.”
“He’s also been sending flowers,” I tell her while trying to keep my facial expression neutral. It’s harder than I expect, thinking about the beautiful, colorful bouquets made with a variety of flowers.
“Oh really?” Quincey asks with a grin. “What kind?”
“All sorts, he mixes it up each day,” I tell her, barely concealing my grin as I also recall all of the sweet notes. The ones I love the best say that he hasn’t been with anyone else and he’ll remain celibate for the rest of his life unless he gets to be with me. Do I believe that for an instant? No, but he does know exactly what I want to hear.
“Oh my god. Now you’re just being downright cruel to the man,” Quincey huffs.
“No matter how much I want to see him again, what’s the point? We could never work since we’re living two very different lives. And he lives two hours away now. If I throw in the towel on the investigation, it’ll be even farther once I’m back in Georgia.”
“Are you going to recommend that the U.S. Attorney drop the investigation?” she asks.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Of course you are,” she replies. “You’re just stalling. And a two-hour drive is all there is right now, which is nothing,” she says with a wave of her hand. “Come on, let’s get in the car and head to the coast tonight. I’ll go with you! He has hot biker friends, right?”
“You think I should drive two hours on a Friday night to go see Dalton with another woman?” I ask. “No, thanks.”
“If you saw him with another woman, would you finally stop moping around like a sick puppy all the time?”
“I’m already angry with him,” I tell her. Not that I’ve gone into details about him ruining our final night together by being an asshole. “If I go and see him with another woman, it’s possible I may chop his dick off.”
“If he didn’t have a dick, I bet you could get over him,” Quincey points out. And even I can admit there’s some logic to that notion.
“Fine,” I say with a heavy sigh. “Let’s go to the beach.”
“Really?” she asks with a near supersonic squeal.
“Yes. But if this ends horribly, I’m going to blame it all on you.”
Three hours later, and we’re parking my SUV on the strip about three blocks away from the Savage Kings’ clubhouse because the whole street around the hotel and bar is slam packed with cars and Harleys.
“What do you think is going on?” Quincey asks as we get out and start walking back to the bustling area.
“No clue.”
“Whatever it is, it looks like it’s drawing a big crowd,” she says. “Which means we should be able to blend right in.”
“Let’s go in the bar first and see what we can find out,” I suggest.
The Savage Asylum parking lot is completely full, but when we go inside, there’s not a single person in the room. At least not at first.
“Oh shit,” I mutter when I spot a big, intimidating man I recognize from his military photo in the case file—Torin Fury, the Savage Kings’ president. The only thing that makes him a little less frightening is the tiny baby dressed all in pink that’s currently sleeping on the shoulder of his leather cut.
Narrowing his eyes at me and Quincey, he softly asks, “What are you doing here?”
Crap. Does he recognize me? I’m guessing so. If I had to bet, he would’ve yelled those words with a few expletives if not for the sleeping infant.
“I was…we were looking for Dalton,” I answer.
“Is that it?” he asks with an arched eyebrow, and I know he’s really asking if I’m there to arrest anyone.
“Yes.”
“He’s at the fight,” he informs us.
“Fight?” I repeat.
“MMA fight across the street in our new outdoor arena,” he says, nodding to the poster on the wall behind us, depicting two buff guys posing with their gloves raised in the air.
“Oh.”
“Can I give you some advice?” Torin asks as he gently adjusts the baby on his shoulder.
“Ah, sure,” I answer.
“Stay the hell away from the Savage Kings.”
“I am,” I tell him. “The investigation is done. I just have to send the report to the U.S. Attorney.”
Guess Quincey was right, and my decision has already been made.
“Good,” Torin says. “Head toward the beach and you’ll see the spotlights.”
“Thanks,” I reply as I start to turn to leave, ready to get out from under his wrathful gaze.
“The MC is a part of him,” Torin suddenly says, making me stop in my tracks to look back over my shoulder at him. “It’s not just a cut he wears, or the ink on his skin. It’s in his blood and always will be. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”
“I know that,” I mutter. “The MC isn’t the problem.”
“Then what is?” Torin asks.
When I hesitate with my response, Quincey answers for me. “She’s worried he’ll cheat on her like her ex-husband.”
Torin chuckles at that. “Dalton was a playboy, that’s no secret. But it only takes one good woman to come along and give him a reason to change. That’s the only part of him that you get to have, though. So, if there’s anything else about him that you’re hoping you can fix or change, you may as well hit the road because it’s not gonna happen,” he tells me. “Dalton won’t leave the MC for you, and he sure as hell won’t tell you everything that he does wearing his cut.”
“I’m a federal agent and I’m not giving that up either,” I reply.
“Good. You shouldn’t,” he says, surprising me. “And if he loves you, he wouldn’t even ask you to do that for him.”
“Oh.”
“Just like if you love him, you won’t ask him to take off the cut. He may even try to do it, but he’d hate you for it. Dalton didn’t just join the MC on a whim like most of the guys. He was born into it.” Looking down at the sleeping baby on his shoulder, Torin says, “And if you have a son with him, he’ll be a little prince who will most likely want to follow in his father’s footsteps and ride like a King one day.”
“Dalton’s a good guy,” I say. “With or wi
thout the cut. I know that.”
“The question is, can you remember that even when he’s not good?” Torin asks.
“All I can do is agree to try.”
“That’s all any of us can do,” he responds with a smirk before he strolls up to us and says, “Come on. I’ll walk you over.”
We follow him out of the bar, where he locks up and then heads toward the ocean. Like he said, it’s easy to spot all of the spotlights shining down on the cage in the pit of a coliseum, with a semi-circle of seats facing the action. The place is packed, almost every seat taken. And I’m not all that surprised when I see the familiar face of the sheriff sitting in the front row. Tonight, she’s out of her uniform and in a t-shirt and jeans, a beer in her hand.
“Good to see you making friends in the area, Agent Bradley,” Sheriff Horton says when we approach, and she gets to her feet.
“I didn’t take you for the fight night kind of girl,” I tell her honestly.
“Only when my husband is the headliner,” she answers with a grin. “Can’t say I pegged you as a fan of MMA either.”
“I’m actually looking for Dalton,” I tell her. “Have you by chance seen him?”
“He’s up at the main gate handling the donations,” the sheriff informs me as I look around for him.
“Donations?” I ask when I turn back to her.
“Christmas presents for underprivileged kids,” she answers, and Quincey and I exchange a look of shock. “A toy is the price of admission to get into the event tonight.”
“The MC isn’t all bad,” Torin says. “We do a lot of charity work in the community.”
“That’s…nice,” I say.
“But if you hear anything about gambling, the Kings don’t know shit about all that,” Torin adds with a grin.
“Right,” I agree, since that’s the least of my concerns. “Quincey, how about you try to find us a seat and I’ll go make a donation.”
“Sure,” she agrees, waving me off as her eyes take in the crowd around us. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just go get lost in the sea of hot, bearded bikers.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Dalton
I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve called Peyton over the last few weeks and she hasn’t sent so much as a text message back. But I won’t give up. No, I will stay persistent until she says something, dammit.
To try and keep busy, I volunteered to help out with loading up the bus with toys and clothing donations for the local families that can’t afford them. Even that work didn’t last long. Now that the fight is about to start, everyone’s at the concession stand or heading down to find their seats.
I’m on the bus steps, tossing some dolls into the bus, when a woman behind me says, “I don’t have any toys, but can I write you a check?”
My neck jerks around so fast it’s a wonder I don’t get whiplash. Even when I see her, I have to blink a few times to make sure I’m not imagining her.
“Peyton? What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Your calls and flowers finally wore me down,” she answers with a smile.
“Fuck, this is so much better than a text message.” I jog down the steps to get closer to her. “You’re really here,” I say as I reach up and cup her face to feel her soft skin.
“Yes, but only if you’re serious about us,” she tells me when she covers my hand with hers. “I want more than just a few hot nights whenever the mood strikes. I’m too old for hookups and it’s too far to keep commuting.”
Lowering my hand in disappointment, I say, “I can’t move. My dad is here, and the MC…”
“I know,” she interrupts. “I wasn’t asking you to move. If I’m going to do it, though, I need to know that I can count on you to be around.”
“I want you here with me,” I tell her. “Fuck, I want to be with you. But you’ve worked your ass off to have an amazing career, and I can’t ask you to give that up.”
“I didn’t say I would,” she replies.
“But you know I’m not leaving the MC either, right?” I ask. “My dad helped start the Savage Kings over twenty years ago. I grew up in the club...”
“I’m aware of all that too,” Peyton says.
“So, it sounds like an impossible situation,” I grumble.
“Well, I work Monday to Friday, nine to five, right?” she says.
“Yeah.”
“So, can you try to handle most of your club business Monday through Friday while I’m at the office?”
Considering that for a moment, I tell her, “Possibly.”
“Then, on the weekends, it could just be me and you, no MC and no federal agency responsibilities?” she asks.
“Just us?” I repeat with a grin, liking the idea of this compromise so far. “Peyton and Dalton, a naked superhero duo who only fight bedroom crimes, like sheet hogs and orgasm deficiencies.”
Laughing out loud, she says, “That does sound nice, but I’m going to need more than a secret affair with an outlaw in the bedroom on weekends. I’m asking if we can find a way to go on dates and meet each other’s friends and family.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask.
“Yeah. And eventually, I’d like to wake up every morning with you and go to bed at night with you. So, no, I don’t want to hide you or us. But we can’t exactly have our relationship completely out in the open. If my superiors found out about you, I could lose my job.”
“Isn’t there a federal building near here where you could work?” I ask.
“Once I close the investigation on the Savage Kings, they’ll probably send me back to Georgia.”
“Maybe not. Could you ask for a more permanent job here?”
“I dunno. I could ask, but there’s no guarantee. And the closer I am, the harder it will be for us to keep my superiors from finding out we’re together.”
“You know I can pull off a pretty good lawyer alter ego,” I remind her. “You could tell everyone at work that I’m Henry when you introduce me to them. And I do have forty-nine more of those fancy business cards…”
Peyton blinks at me in confusion for several seconds before she says, “Live a lie, you mean?”
“Only a lie to everyone else. You and I would be the real deal when we’re together,” I tell her. “I guess you’ll have to decide if living a lie is worth being with me because I don’t see any other way to make this work, kitten.”
“If we do this, if I can figure out a way to work nearby, are you sure you can give up other women?”
“I’ve already given up women,” I assure her. “Ask any of the guys. There hasn’t been a woman in my apartment in weeks, since before I started sneaking off to Raleigh to see you. What do you need me to do to prove that? You want a ring on your finger? Because I’ll do that!”
“God, no,” she says with a wince, as if the idea of marrying me is too awful to even consider. “I’ve been there, and had a wedding and a ring. Those things won’t prevent adultery. I’ve already learned that lesson.”
“So then, what do you need from me?” I ask.
“Honestly, I don’t know what it will take before I learn to completely trust you. Maybe I never will because I still don’t understand why someone like you would want me.”
“I don’t know how to prove to you that you’re the only woman I want, but I won’t stop trying,” I promise her. “And I won’t do anything to break your trust if you decide that I’ve earned it. Can you at least believe that?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Good,” I reply before I grab each of her hips and tug her body against mine so I can kiss her lips.
Peyton kisses me back for a moment before she pulls away. “Wait. Aren’t you worried about what the MC will think about us? It sounded like your president just gave us his blessing but the rest of them…”
“The club’s already voted,” I admit. “And they don’t care. They were all for it, actually.”
“They voted?” she asks. “On us, you and me?”
“Yeah.”
“Even though I’m…”
“Even though you’re a federal agent and could try to arrest us all one day,” I finish for her.
“I won’t do that,” she tells me.
“Good, because they’re more than my friends. Those guys are my family. So, I need to trust you with them, trust that you won’t screw us all over if you have to decide between me or your job.”
“I won’t screw you or the MC over,” she assures me, so I give her another kiss.
“I’m glad to hear that,” I say against her lips. “Now, would you like to be my date to the fight?”
Smiling broadly up at me, Peyton says, “I would love to.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Peyton
“Sir, do you have a moment?” I ask Stan Sommers when I pop my head in his office.
“Sure. Come on in,” he says. I walk into his office but don’t take a seat. I want to say this and get it over with as soon as possible.
“I’ve finalized my report on the Savage Kings investigation. There’s nothing there.”
I will myself to believe that but really, I wasn’t able to find any direct evidence they were connected to any murders or arson. That doesn’t mean there’s not any, just that I didn’t want to dig deep enough to accidentally find it.
“Oh, well, if you’re sure,” Stan says in surprise.
“I am,” I agree. “Also, there’s something else I wanted to speak to you about.”
“Yes?”
Taking the plunge, after I spent the entire weekend considering my options, and knowing it’s the only way to keep seeing Dalton, I say, “Would it be possible for me to stay on with the Eastern District and work out of the New Bern office, even if it’s just an investigator position?”
“New Bern, huh?” he repeats. “You actually want to move closer to the Kings? Our CI relocated to California after his identity was blown by them. If he could get a passport, he probably would’ve left the country.”