Home > Impulsively (Dante's Nine MC #3)(19)

Impulsively (Dante's Nine MC #3)(19)
Author: Colleen Masters

At the head of the pack are the president and VP of the Wraiths, Mac Donnelly and Leo Bane. Mac is even spookier in real life, with his shock of white hair and ruthless eyes. For his part, Leo looks like a ferocious big cat—his jet-black hair and golden eyes are so striking they’re almost otherworldly. Flanking Mac and Leo are the barrel-chested Robert “Bear” Watkins, the would-be farm boy Billy “Buck” Larson, the ginger pyromaniac Anthony “Sparky” Rosetta, and the smart one of the bunch, David “Dewey” Mackenzie. Bringing up the rear are the slick, slender Phil “Fiver” Webb and a blonde, clean-cut younger guy who I know to be Emmett “Tyke” Bronson.

The gang’s all here. Or rather, the gangs are both here. I’m surrounded by dangerous, potentially armed men—and suddenly this little undercover sting doesn’t seem like a foolproof idea after all. I clutch my handbag—and concealed weapon within—a little tighter to my side.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Declan shouts, gesturing to the fully stocked bar. “Have at it, gentlemen!”

The brothers surge forward, descending on the plentiful booze, and I shrink against the bar to stay out of their way. The three women at the end of the bar fan out to meet them, draping bare limbs across smooth leather cuts. I avert my gaze from their wanton displays, eager to keep a low profile. But as discreet as I try to be, the sight of a new girl in the clubs’ midst does not go unnoticed for long.

“Well, howdy,” the one called Buck grins, sidling up next to me. “You a new sweet butt or something, baby?”

“I’m sorry?” I say coldly, cocking an eyebrow at the hick. I distrust him on sight, and put up my guard immediately.

“Sweet butts are like club groupies,” Kelly explains, pressing herself between me and Buck, “And no. She’s not. This is Keira, she works with me and Kassie.”

“Keira, huh?” says the burly Bear, wedging himself in next to us. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Actually, she prefers to be called Red,” I hear Brooks say from behind me. I look over my shoulder just in time to see his massive form step up behind me. He closes the space between our bodies, his hard chest pressing against my back. The second he lays his hands on my hips from behind, the ravenous Wraiths step back.

“Well, Red,” Bear grins, snatching a beer off the bar and dragging Buck away, “you take good care of Brooks, here. It’s his party after all.”

“I’m not here take care of—” I start, but Brooks leans down and whispers harshly in my ear, cutting me off.

“You want to get passed around from brother to brother all night?” he growls. “Or would you prefer to leave here in one piece?”

“I’m capable of looking out for myself,” I inform him, whispering so only he can hear. “I don’t need you to be my bodyguard.”

“Maybe you’d be OK at some college bar or frat house,” Brooks shoots back, “but this is an MC clubhouse, baby. You’re no one’s old lady, and that means you’re fair game.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I scoff.

“That’s the truth of it,” Brooks insists, “Stick with me tonight, Red.”

“You’re just trying to claim me for yourself,” I shoot back.

“Yes,” he growls, cupping my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze, “I am. And even if you won’t admit it, I know you want me to. Denying that won’t make it any less true, babe.”

I stare up at him and know at once that he’s right. I do need protection here. These men aren’t concerned with flirtation and courtship. They don’t ask for permission or wait to take what they want. They’re monsters...so I might as well stick with the monster I actually find attractive. Even if he is crazy intimidating.

“All right,” I finally say, laying a hand on his hard chest, “you’re my watch dog for the night, then.”

“I’m your man for the night,” he corrects me, catching my hand in his and pulling me tightly against him.

“That doesn’t mean I’m just going to drop my panties,” I inform him. But my breathless voice gives me away at once.

“Why deny yourself the thing you want?” he asks, looping his arms around the small of my back. My head is swimming with the closeness of him.

I’m so lost in those green eyes that I almost give him an honest answer: Because I’m a federal agent looking to take your asses down, you gorgeous fucking specimen of a man. And I doubt my boss would approve of the fuck first, ask questions later tactic. But now that I think of it...getting closer to Brooks means getting more access to the clubs. Maybe letting myself have a little fun with him would be good for the case...

“What’s this?” I hear a low voice remark. I tear my gaze away from Brooks and find myself staring at a pair of golden eyes. We’ve been joined at the bar by Leo and Kelly, as well as Dec and Kassie. All paired off, as it were. The Devil’s Wraiths VP looks between Brooks and I, clearly satisfied with the match.

“Lucky man,” Leo nods.

“Lucky as hell,” Brooks agrees, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Kelly here wanted to push Tyke your way,” Leo says to me, his golden eyes gleaming, “but I guess you prefer your guys a bit rougher around the edges?”

I think of puny Milo and bite back a laugh. “You might say that,” I allow.

Kelly and Kassie look at me intently. I can tell they’re trying to give me a way out, if I want it. I know they’re still trying to get a read on Brooks, since he’s so new around here. But despite their confidence that no one here will do me harm, I have no way of knowing that for sure. My head doesn’t have the information it needs, but my gut is telling me that Brooks is my best bet tonight. And my gut is never wrong.

“Let me get you a drink,” Brooks says, running his hands over the points of my hips.

“God, yes,” I mutter, before I can stop myself. Surely I’m not the first undercover agent to toss back a few with the people she’s investigating. I have a feeling that teetotalers don’t get invited back to these club shindigs.

“I like her!” Kelly’s old man crows.

“She’s growing on me,” Declan allows.

“Just don’t try to keep up with these maniacs,” Kassie warns me, jabbing her thumb at Declan, “they’re tanks.”

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