I whip around as the bathroom door opens, and Declan Tiberi strolls on in. He takes in the sight of Brooks in the shower, and me just about to hop in. But just as Brooks predicted, he doesn’t even bat an eye.
“Oh,” he says, unsurprised, “hey Keira.”
“H-hey Declan,” I manage to say, “I’ll just, uh, wait for you guys outside.”
“You cock-blocking sonofabitch,” Brooks mutters to Declan and I hurry past.
“You’ll survive,” I hear Declan say before I close the door. “I need you at the clubhouse this afternoon. We’ve got chapel.”
I lean heavily against the doorframe, chest heaving. All that tension, all that desire, derailed so that Declan could tell Brooks about a meeting?
We were this close. I guess the best things in life come to those who wait. But who would have thought that waiting a whole day to be with someone would feel like far too long? My body’s decided what it wants, even if my heart and mind are confused. If anything, Declan’s interruption just proved how urgent that wanting really is.
“Thanks, Tiberi. I guess,” I mutter to myself.
Forget the fact that we just met, and the fact that I’m masquerading as someone else. The greatest obstacle to me and Brooks right now might just be finding a moment alone.
Chapter Eleven
Against all odds, I start to adjust to my new way of life as the days go by. I wake up, ignore whatever plaintive texts or emails Milo has sent during the night, pour some kibble into The Mayor’s bowl, and head out the door. I’ve given up trying to dress differently for my two selves’ very different jobs. Whether I’m heading to the FBI field office or the CrowdedNest home base, I opt for jeans, a fitted tank or tee, and blown out hair. And if I happen to be swinging by the Forty-Five club after work, a smudge of red lipstick, some heels, and a neckline tugged low quickly complete my look.
I log a few good hours of investigation into CrowdedNest each and every day, but the result is always the same. No matter how deep I dig, I can’t find a speck of dirt. Kassie and Kelly have set up an organized, efficient, and utterly wholesome site. If websites could be considered for sainthood, this one would be a shoo-in. There are no traces of malware, no evidence that the girls are skimming off the top of donations to their elderly clients. By all appearances, this operation is exactly what it looks like to the untrained eye: an excellent idea for a startup that benefits people all over the country.
And that’s why this whole thing doesn’t make any damn sense.
Mitchell is as puzzled by the lack of incriminating evidence as I am. Based on the anonymous tips the FBI received about CrowdedNest, he expected there to be all kinds of fishy (and phish-y) things going on with the site.
“At least we have hard evidence that the site is sharing funds with the MC’s, right?” my boss says as we wrap up another meeting, about a week into my investigation. He, Bruno and I have spent the last hour or so laying all our evidence out on the table to underwhelming effect.
“Well, that’s not exactly true,” I point out, hopping onto the conference table beside him. “It’s more a matter of who’s investing in what. Tiberi invested in CrowdedNest, Kassie invested in the Dante’s Nine auto shop, Kelly and Leo each invested in the Devil’s Playpen porn company...the clubs are too smart to have war chests, so to speak.”
“Then we’ll just have to nail them on something else,” Bruno cuts in, his brow furrowed. “Clearly, you’re not going to be of any use on the digital front. I’m going to have to get one of the Devil’s Playpen girls to talk.”
“And what if the girls don’t have anything to say?” I ask. “What if the strip club and porn company are as well-run as the website?”
“You clearly don’t know much about strip clubs or porn sites,” Bruno grins at me.
“I know that you haven’t found any evidence of illegal activity,” I shoot back, “and you’ve been working your angle a whole lot longer than I’ve been working mine. Maybe it’s time for us to consider the possibility that there’s nothing to see here.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Bruno sneers. “If these assholes aren’t technically doing anything wrong, you get to keep up your biker chick charade. None of them have to find out you’re an agent. You can keep knocking around with your slutty girlfriends and that thug you’ve taken a liking to.”
“Excuse me?” I snap, damning the blush that creeps into my cheeks.
“Don’t play dumb,” Bruno says, rolling his eyes. “You’ve clearly got a little schoolgirl crush on that Brooks character.”
“What makes you say that?” I ask, deflecting his accusation.
“Let’s see,” Bruno goes on, “you stumbled upon the identity of a brand new member of Dante’s Nine, but all you’ve told us about him is a name and the color of his eyes. You’re totally disinterested in investigating his criminal past. And you spend as much time at the CrowdedNest offices as possible—which, as you’ve told us, is also Brooks’ bachelor pad for the time being. I’m a federal agent, Girlie. I know how to put two and two together.”
“Is Bruno right?” Mitchell asks, raising an eyebrow, “Are you really getting involved with Brooks?”
I look back and forth between the agents. How can I even answer that? I’m wildly attracted to Brooks, and live for the times we get to sneak off and steal some steamy moments. I’ve seen him naked, he’s seen me close to it. We’ve been hooking up all week, but still haven’t managed to do the deed...yet. He’s all I think about, all I dream about, all I want. And he’s absolutely wild for me, too.
“It’s nothing,” I finally say to my coworkers, “I flirt with him to get information about the MC’s. That’s all.”
“Right,” Bruno scoffs.
“It’s not a bad strategy,” Mitchell nods. “Is he interested in you, too?”
“He is, as far as I can tell,” I say, swallowing a smile.
“Then use that, Collins!” Mitchell urges, “How far you push your relationship with him is totally up to you, but it could be a fruitful...union.”
“Are you...giving me permission to pursue Brooks? Romantically?” I ask my boss.
“I’m saying that if Keira Campbell wanted to make a move on Caleb Brooks...that would be very good for Quinn Collins’ investigation,” Mitchell says pointedly.