Yeah right, I think to myself, as if I have a choice about that...
“Good morning boys,” I say brightly, stepping into the conference room where Mitchell and Bruno are waiting.
The men glance up and gape unabashedly. Bruno bursts out into unkind, uproarious laughter while Mitchell simply cocks his head, taking me in.
“Rough night, Collins?” my boss asks.
“Productive night,” I reply with a confident smile.
“With that getup, I bet it was more reproductive than anything else, am I right?” Bruno cackles meanly.
“Clever,” I drawl, rolling my eyes, “And wrong. But thanks for playing, Bruno. I spent the night partying at the Forty-Five Club, with the entirety of Dante’s Nine and the Las Vegas Devil’s Wraiths.”
Bruno’s laughter cuts off with a strangled, indignant sound as Mitchell’s face lights up with a pleased grin.
“Seriously, Collins?” Mitchell asks, “You got access to the Dante’s Nine clubhouse?”
“Sure did,” I say, crossing my arms. “The clubs were having a welcome bash for the newest member of the MC. All seventeen brothers were in attendance, plus the old ladies I’ve been working with. And a few sweet butts, to boot. They brought me along after we finished up with the website for the day.”
“So you know who the ninth member is, then?” Mitchell asks excitedly.
“Wh-what?” I stammer, caught off guard.
“The newest guy of Dante’s Nine. Who is he?” my boss presses, nodding at the blank space among the club’s roster hanging on the wall.
“Oh. Uh. His name is Brooks. Caleb Brooks,” I say, trying to keep my voice light. Why does it feel like such a betrayal, speaking his name in this building? If Brooks and the others are innocent, then no harm will come from my relaying this information. Right?
“Excellent work, Collins,” Mitchell says, clapping me on the shoulder. “It was risky, going in there without giving us a heads up. But you took a chance and came back with some great information. It was never the plan to have you working outside of CrowdedNest, but I think we should reevaluate that—”
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Bruno growls from across the room. His face is turning bright red, and his meaty hands are balled into fists.
“What’s the problem, Bruno?” Mitchell sighs.
“The problem is that she’s a rookie,” Bruno spits. “She’s going to come traipsing into my part of the investigation and fuck everything up.”
“Last night was a success,” I remind him, raising an eyebrow. “What, are you above having another agent help you—?”
“Last night was beginners luck,” he says, waving away my assertions. “You’re not ready for this, Collins. You have no idea what you’re doing. I’ve been working on this investigation for months. Operation Inferno is my case.”
“Our case,” I correct him.
“Like hell,” he growls.
“Enough,” Mitchell says, cutting us both off, “quit squabbling, would you? Quinn, proceed carefully with your part of the investigation. If there’s another opportunity to spend time at the Forty-Five Club, go ahead and take it. Keep gathering information as it comes to you, but make investigating CrowdedNest your priority.”
“Got it,” I smile.
“And Bruno,” Mitchell goes on, “Your investigation has been focused on the Devil’s Playpen, not the Forty-Five Club. You should still have plenty of room to do things your way around the Wraiths’ compound. Keep your focus on the porn company, keep trying to get information from the girls. That’s where the bulk of the tips have been coming from, after all.”
Bruno nods his head, once. His anger doesn’t seem at all abated, just swallowed. He’s pissed as hell that I dared to take one step toward “his turf”. Seems like a counterproductive attitude to me. If my getting access to Dante’s Nine helps the case, shouldn’t he be thrilled that I’m making progress? His swollen ego is preventing him from seeing what an asset I could be to this investigation. I’ll just have to go ahead and prove how valuable I can be.
“Keep up the good work, both of you,” Mitchell concludes, “I can feel us getting closer to a break here. In a couple weeks’ time, we could be pressing charges and saying goodbye to these clubs forever.”
“A couple weeks?” I ask, taken aback. “That’s it?”
“That’s my timeline,” Mitchell confirms, “Shouldn’t take longer than that to turn up any dirt, if there’s dirt to be found. If we can’t find anything to nail these guys on after another two weeks, we’ll need to back off and reevaluate. So get cracking, both of you. No time to waste.”
Bruno and I turn to go in unison. The bull of a man charges past me through the office door, but this time I hold my ground. I’m through letting him bully me. We’re both federal agents, after all. He’s not entitled to any more respect because he happens to be a man, or because he has a couple of decades on me. We were both brought onto this case for a reason—because we could do good work. And that’s just what I intend to do.
Even if that does mean investigating the people I’m beginning to think of as my friends.
Chapter Ten
“Hey there, sunshine,” Kelly smirks, opening the door bearing the gilded B.
“Thanks for letting me take the afternoon shift, as it were,” I grin bashfully, slipping into the sleek, modern suite. I swung home between leaving the FBI and coming here to change out of last night’s clothes. I’ve opted for a pair of boyfriend jeans and a loose black tank today, and my hair hangs in its natural red curls. I didn’t have enough time to shower, but I’m certainly looking more put together than I did when I rolled out of Brooks’ bed.
“We were all in rough shape this morning,” Kassie laughs from the kitchen. “Speaking of, can I get you some coffee?”
“God yes,” I breathe, slinging my large handbag onto the wooden table we use as a collective desk.
The suite is filled with warm sunlight, streaming in through the tall windows. Vegas churns on beneath us, active even at this time of day. In a couple of hours the very air above Sin City will be golden, before the sky gives way to the pulsing neon fever dream of night.
Kassie sets three mugs on the table and tips the rich contents of the French press into them. I sip my excellent cup of coffee, still unaccustomed to drinking anything so fine. These girls may be biker broads, but I’m learning that the home lives of these MC members are often much more luxurious than their reputations would suggest.