“Let’s say I come from a competitive family.” Shaking my head, I pick up my phone, but when I start to dial nine-one-one, she slaps it out of my hands.
“No. You can’t. Not until we find out who hired them.” She doesn’t appear insane, but she has a few screws loose if she thinks I’m going to leave here without explaining what went down to the authorities.
“Why in God’s name would I risk jailtime?”
“If I say I’m working undercover for the FBI, is that reason enough?”
Studying her face, I find no signs of deception, and whistle through my teeth. “What about Charlie? We should bring her home, first.”
The spunky kid grins as if she’d spent the evening at the movies, instead of almost being killed by a motorcycle gang. “Don’t worry. I’ll hide in the back. I do this all the time.”
Chapter 6
Sky
Chauffeuring us back the way we came, my reticent hero makes a call. “Yo, Drac. Find out what you can about motorcycle clubs near Lewes.”
“Why? Your fingers broken?”
At the distorted chuckle in the car’s front speakers, the handsome younger brother rolls his brown eyes. “Sky and Charlie are listening in, so try not to be a complete asshat, and yes, it is important. Life and death, okay? And before you say it, I understand I’ll owe you one forever, and…”
While the two banter, I put four and four together. Same last name plus computer-whiz equals the brainiac who saved us from the apocalyptic internet incident.Holy shit.If I’m right, the fingers flying over a keyboard belong to the most talented hacker on planet earth, Colby Brennan.
“You’re supposed to be on vacation, baby bro, recovering from a gunshot wound.” The older sibling’s revelation causes my jaw to drop, but Dean doesn’t miss a beat.
“Hey, everyone has their own definition of fun. I promise to read you in as soon as I know more.” The gorgeous man glances over at me, daring me to say something. Far be it for me to comment on catching a bullet.
The background clicking stops followed by a rapid succession of meows. “Sorry about the noise. Felis thinks he’s hungry… Yess… I found them. The club has about two dozen ex-con members. They all have thick rap sheets. You don’t want to mess with them.”
“Who’s in charge of these lovely debutantes?” Dean grins, peers out at the road, and when he winks my way, I wonder if I’ve finally met my match, a cannon looser than myself.
“A guy named Spider. Dino, I’m not kidding. I’ll text their location but before you go, take a deep breath, and whatever you’re about to do, don’t.” The warning sends a chill down my spine, but the hottie beside me laughs it off.
“Copy that, mommy number four.” After he hangs up, I recall the scene in the cornfield and have second thoughts of my own.
Perhaps we should pay heed to the genius. As I open my mouth to suggest we turn around, the man with nine lives minus one taps my arm. “So, Mata Hari, we recently killed a half dozen bikers. Where’re we going next?”
“To Disney World?” My lame joke earns me a chuckle.
Then, he types an address into his car’s GPS. “When we get there, stay in the car.”
His bossiness makes me bristle. Even my Navy SEAL dad knew better than to use that condescending tone. “So, let me get this straight. You’re going to walk in there, all by yourself, and politely ask who paid them to kill me and Charlie? That’s not a plan, it’s suicide.”
“They have your image. They’re going to recognize you, princess.”
We argue until Dean parks in front of a dilapidated farmhouse surrounded by a sea of junk. Well-defined abs on display, he slips his weapon into his waistband as Charlie climbs over the back seat and hides under a blanket.
“You sure about this? Don’t you want to contact your handler, first?” The trust he has in me sends pangs of guilt rushing through my veins.
“Ah, no. He often leaves me to my own devices.”Yeah, that’s stretching the truth a bit.I should’ve told him I haven’t been able to reach my guy. Now, it’s too late.
“Listen, my brothers have friends in the JTTF. I can ask them to intervene.”
“No. My contact made it clear I was only to speak to him.”He also might’ve mentioned how if I fuck up his mission, I’ll be selling burgers and french fries the rest of my life.
“Okay, Agent Young. FBI trumps out-of-state cop. You can run this op.” His fingers spread over my lower back as he leads me to the door and our eyes meet. If we were in a bedroom, I’d grab the back of his head, pull his lips to mine, and kiss the living b’jesus out of him.
Instead, I nod, press the paper bag full of phones to my chest, and follow him into the back of the store. Six sets of eyes lift and stare. At the back wall, three members swivel away from the cement-block-plywood bar. Behind them, industrial shelves hold a few bottles of cheap booze while a white refrigerator covered in greasy fingerprints whines.
