Page 11 of Claimed By the Bikers
The moment I get inside room 12, I kick off my boots so hard that one hits the wall. I strip down to my underwear and collapse on the bed, burying my face in the pillow.
“Get your shit together, Natalie,” I mutter into the fabric. “This is your career. Your promotion. Everything you’ve worked for.”
But even as I drift into restless sleep, I can still taste whiskey on my lips.
I wake with my fingers pressed against my mouth, and the ghost of Garrett’s kiss hits me like a freight train, but my temper has significantly calmed.
My heart pounds as fragments of last night flood back. His hands on my waist, the storage room’s dim light, the way he tasted like whiskey and something darker.
“It’s just part of the job,” I whisper to the empty motel room. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get this done.”
But I know I’m lying to myself. That wasn’t strategic. That was pure, stupid attraction to a man who could destroy everything I’ve worked for. A forty-nine-year-old man with arms that could snap me in half, who cupped my ass like he owned it, who kissed me with decades of experience that left me breathless and wanting more.
I roll over and punch the pillow, frustrated with myself. “He’s a pervert,” I mutter. “And when this operation is over, I’m personally going to handcuff him and watch him get dragged away.”
The words sound hollow even to me.
I drag myself to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, avoiding my reflection.
This is exactly what Ben warned me about.
Don’t let the lines blur. Keep your head clear. Remember what happened with Nathan.
But Nathan never made me feel like this. Nathan was a professional. What happened with Garrett was raw and immediate and entirely out of my control.
I think about the promotion waiting for me back in Quantico. Senior Special Agent Hayes. My own team, my own operations. Everything I’ve worked toward for three years. I usually don’t let myself dwell on it too much. It’s easier to use it as motivation when things get difficult rather than obsess over what might happen.
Right now, though, I need the reminder. This assignment is my ticket to everything I want. I won’t let some silver-haired Scottish bastard with talented hands ruin that for me.
I turn on my burner phone.
Time to check in with Ben.
“Morning, sunshine.” Ben’s voice is clearer today, with no chewing sounds. “How’s small-town life treating you?”
“I’ve had correspondence with two out of three brothers,” I report, settling into the chair by the window. “The third seems to be out of town but will return soon.”
“Excellent. Any actionable intelligence?”
“Still building trust. These aren’t men who open up easily.”
“Keep at it. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“Right.” I hesitate, then decide not to mention the kiss. It’s irrelevant to the mission. “I’ll check in tomorrow.”
“Stay safe, Natalie.”
After ending the call, I stare out at Wolf’s Den in the distance. Sunlight catches the windows, making the building look almost peaceful. Hard to believe it’s the front for whatever operation brought me here.
I need to get out of this room. Clear my head. Explore Wolf Pike during the day to get a better feel for the town and its people.
An hour later, I’m walking down Main Street in jeans and a tank top, my hair loose around my shoulders. Without the Wolf’s Den uniform, I blend in with the locals. A few people wave or nod as I pass, and I wave back.
The sound of motorcycle engines roaring draws my attention toward the outskirts of town. I follow the noise, curiosity getting the better of me, until I reach a clearing where a dirt track has been carved into the landscape. Maybe two dozen bikes are parked in a loose circle, and riders are taking turns racing around the track at speeds that would make highway patrol officers weep.
I settle on a patch of grass about fifty yards away, close enough to watch but far enough to avoid drawing attention. The wind carries the smell of exhaust and burnt rubber, mixed with dust kicked up by spinning tires.
There’s something primal about it. The raw power of the machines, the skill required to handle them at those speeds, the way the riders lean into curves that would terrify most people. For the first time since arriving in Wolf Pike, I feel myself relax, experiencing the simple pleasure of watching something exciting happen.
