Cass pressed a foot to the pavement even as he turned back to look at her.
She flipped up the visor on the helmet. He didn’t know exactly when she’d flipped it down, but she had. And now she was beaming at him. A beautiful grin lit her face as the street lamps illuminated them. “That was amazing!” she gushed. “My whole body feels alive! Like, seriously, I’m vibrating. I have to confess that I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before, though I always wanted to give it a try. Sensational. Five stars. Highest recommendation ever.”
He just stared at her.
She kept smiling. Then she dipped her head toward him. “The light is green. Vroom, vroom.”
What? He growled. He was growling a lot with her. “What in the hell am I supposed to do with you?”
“I thought you had a plan. You know, you told me about it not too long ago. Right before we began our fabulous ride into the dark. Don’t go being a tease now.”
He had to get her alone and in a secure location. Not so he could fuck her. Fucking a Fed was a bad idea. Something he’d told himself at least ten times already during their fast and furious ride. Such a bad idea.
And yet…
And yet…
Focus. “I want to know your game.” No way did a Fed just sashay into his favorite bar without a reason. What was it this time? Was he under investigation? Did the Feds think they could use him? Blackmail him? Screw that shit.
Not happening.
He whipped back to the front, drove fast, and, fine, maybe it felt good when she curled her hands around his waist and pressed her body against his. Maybe it felt better than good. Maybe something about Agnes was making him a bit delirious. Or, hell, drunk. And he tried to never get drunk. Getting drunk would make you sloppy. Weak. In his line of work, there could be no weaknesses.
Since he didn’t know where the hell to take her—not like he could drop a Fed off at her door—he drove to his home. On the other side of town. Actually, beyond town. An old scary-as-hell-from-the-exterior place that someone else had begun renovating and Cass had scooped up the property when that guy had decided to relocate to Texas.
Private, secure, with lots of sprawling space, the old house was perfect for him. The fact that it looked like something from a horror movie? Bonus points.
She didn’t speak until they were inside his home. The garage door had lowered behind them. He’d killed the engine of the motorcycle, and he was trying to figure out a tactful way to say…
“Do people often try to kill you?” Agnes politely inquired. “I’m curious. Was wondering if tonight was a one-time situation or just a typical night out for you?”
He turned to look at her. Agnes no longer had a fierce grip on his waist. Pity. She had also taken off the helmet and now held it with one hand.
The lights were on in his garage so he could see her perfectly.
Those damn freckles were gonna be the death of him.
“My vote is for a typical night,” Agnes declared, as if she’d pondered the matter extensively. “You’re way too cool about everything. When someone tries to stab me in the back, I am not cool. At all.”
He growled again. Dammit. He should stop that. Why in the hell was he down to making animalistic sounds with her? “People try to stab you in the back a lot?”
A sigh had her slender shoulders falling. “More than I’d like.” She scooted back a bit on the bike, putting some distance between them. “You trust a fellow agent one day, and then…boom, betrayal the next moment. Life sucks that way, you know?”
Yeah, he knew. Betrayal was the name of the game in his world. Cass shoved down the kickstand and climbed off the motorcycle.
She kept straddling the bike but handed the helmet to him. “I believe this belongs to you.”
He reached for the helmet. His fingers slid over hers and damn if a bolt of molten lava didn’t seem to surge through his veins. Hell, hell, hell.
“Apparently…” Her head tilted. Her wind-tousled, thick red hair trailed over her shoulder. “Apparently, I do, too? Or else maybe I misheard that guttural ‘Mine’ bit you were throwing out at the bar. Got to tell you, it very much gave Eric Northman vibes from True Blood.”
His brows shot together.
“Tell me you got the reference? No, then I’d suggest you watch or read yourself some True Blood, like, stat. It’s seriously hot. Or, Eric is, anyway. Most definitely, Eric is. I was always rooting for him in the show. Anyway…about me belonging to you…” She still straddled the bike. “That was new.”
Cass locked his jaw. He was finding that he did that a lot around her. Just as he was growling a lot with her. Slowly, Cass backed up a step. “I was protecting you.”
Agnes swung one leg over the seat. She angled her body so that she faced him as she continued to sit—sideways now—on his bike. That skirt was about to give up the battle because it could not rise much higher. “Is that what you were doing?” She put one hand to her chest. Against those pert breasts that had been pushing into his back as he drove them through the night. “How incredibly chivalrous of you, but…I don’t really remember asking for protection.” Her hand fell. “In fact, what I remember was me, protecting you. After all, that broad back of yours was incredibly vulnerable. Had it not been for my amazing throwing skills, you could have found a blade shoved deep into you, and wouldn’t that have sucked for your night?”
