She grabbed his hand. “Come with me. Now.”
The place had cleared out. Not like there was anyone to see the rest of her performance. All because of that one magical word. Raid.
But Cass let her tug him outside. A light rain had begun to fall.
Most of the motorcycles were gone, no longer lined up near the entrance to The Bottomless Pit. But…
He felt the eyes. Knew that watchers lingered. He’d already caught sight of Javion across the street. Casually, Cass made a quick gesture with his open hand. A bare flutter of his fingers.
“What are you doing?” Agnes demanded. “Did you just tell him to come closer?”
No, quite the opposite, actually. He’d just signed for the guy to wait. Not like he wanted Javion to get caught in the crossfire?—
“FBI!” A voice blasted. “Freeze, Cassius!”
Oh. So it was gonna be a bold outside show. Interesting.
“No!” Agnes’s shout. And she was suddenly between him and the FBI agent. The agent—a male wearing dark clothes and with his gun drawn. “Malik, no, don’t!”
“Get out of the way!” Malik yelled back at her. “We’re taking him in!”
Cass climbed onto his motorcycle. “I don’t think so.” He’d had maybe three swigs of beer. Cass had known he’d need to be sober for the events coming. Besides, he usually believed that a drunk leader was a fool just waiting to get taken out.
The sound of revving cycles filled the night.
So did a gunshot blast. One, another.
His head whipped toward the sound. Had that Fed—Malik—just shot at them?
In response, Agnes had her gun out. She aimed it toward Malik.
He ran for cover.
“Fuck.” Cass reached out a hand and curled it around her waist before she could start shooting. “On the motorcycle. Now.”
She got on the motorcycle. Dropped her bag. Kept the gun. And he got them the hell out of there.
Everyone was rushing off that street. Someone screamed. And when Cass looked back, he saw the Fed, rushing from his temporary hiding spot and trying to catch them.
Right. Good luck with that.
“I am dying to know…” Cass shut the motel room door behind him. He flipped the lock. A flimsy-as-hell lock that wouldn’t keep anyone out. “Did you take acting classes in high school? Maybe college? Or do they teach Drama 101 to all new FBI recruits at Quantico?”
Agnes perched on the bed. The lone bed in the no-tell, motel on the edge of Mississippi. They’d driven for hours and hours. Reached the motel just as the sun was rising. He’d traveled down winding back roads the whole time. Not like he wanted to make it easy for anyone trailing him.
Like the Feds.
Or his enemies.
His many, many enemies.
So he’d stuck to the less traveled routes. He’d been highly conscious of Agnes’s soft body pressed against him.
She kicked off her shoes. “I’ve done undercover work before.”
Really? “Do tell.”
“I was a prostitute for three months.”
