“Oh, um...” I stammer, unsure. I’ve certainly never been called a babe before.
“Oh, my god!” Kelly exclaims. “You have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?”
“I guess I do OK,” I shrug, eyeing my improved reflection. Now I really feel like I have a costume to hide behind.
“We need to work on this confidence deficit,” Kassie laughs. “There’s no reason someone as beautiful, funny, and talented as you should ever feel like less than a million bucks.”
At a loss for words, I simply smile at my new bosses. And dare I say...friends? It’s only been a day, but I already feel so at ease around these women. That is, until I remember what it is I’m really doing here. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to investigate.
“Why don’t we get a move on?” I suggest, not wanting to think about how two-faced I really feel. “I can’t wait to see the clubhouse.”
We set off together in Kassie’s smoking red muscle car. Only the best for Declan Tiberi’s old lady, I guess. Reading up on the Dante’s Nine VP, I found out that he’s got money to burn and then some. His personal and club finances have always been dubiously entwined, a fact that could get him in trouble down the line, depending on how Operation Inferno goes. Part of me almost hopes that we don’t find anything in our investigation. That way, Kassie and Kelly would never have to find out that I tried to take them down. But why do I care so much what they think? I can’t let myself get attached.
Chapter Seven
After we’ve gathered up all the party supplies we need, the three of us finally set off for the Dante’s Nine clubhouse. Kassie’s car is loaded with barbecue fixings and enough booze to get a small army wasted off their asses. But then, I guess that’s exactly what we’re setting out to do here.
I force myself to take deep breaths as we drive out past the main Las Vegas drag. This was not part of the plan. I was supposed to gather intel about CrowdedNest and leave it at that. I hope this risk I’m taking doesn’t blow up in my face.
“Here we are,” Kassie says at last, as we approach a couple of low building rising out of the horizon, “home sweet home!”
I stare out the window at the Dante’s Nine headquarters. An unassuming, brick-faced bar is the first thing I see. Neon beer logos light up the front window, and a good dozen Harleys are already parked outside. Above the door is a large sign bearing the sigil of Dante’s Nine—a pair of dice rolling a four and a five.
Adjacent to the bar is a new-looking auto shop, fitted with all the best equipment that money can buy. That must be where Brooks and some of the other guys work during the day. The shop looks impressive, but I have a hard time imagining that its proceeds alone could keep an MC flush with cash. Bruno is right. It’s got to be a front for something.
Kassie parks in front of the beat-up bar, and the three of us step out into the warm early evening. I can hear the sound of carousing voices from inside, and I steel myself as best I can. Walking into a den of MC types without spitting isn’t going to be easy for me, but I’m discovering that I’m a pretty decent actress. Besides, I’m not doing anything wrong by being here. If they’re not hiding anything, we’ve got no problem. Fixing my face with an expression of interested curiosity, I follow Kassie and Kelly inside.
The smell of whiskey and cigarette smoke hits me hard as we cross the threshold. I blink around the dimly lit space and feel dozens of hard eyes staring back. I quickly count nine men in black leather cuts. That means that the entirety of the Dante’s Nine MC is spread around the bar before me. I scan the weathered faces I’ve only ever seen plastered on Mitchell’s wall at the FBI. It’s so bizarre to finally be seeing them up close.
There’s Declan Tiberi, of course, making his way toward Kassie. The stout, grizzly man he’s been talking to must be Kenneth “Kip” Sanders. The twin bouncer types shooting pool are Frank and Teddy O’Leary. Oliver “Ollie” Jenkins is the one with the face tattoo, and Chuck Morrelli is the wiry one who looks like he’d kill you while your back was turned. John Baxter sits coolly at the bar, looking at me with mild curiosity while sharing a drink with the other oldest club member, Saul Ellison. That makes eight.
And then, of course, there’s the ninth and newest member of Dante’s Nine. Brooks.
He leans casually against the bar, his strong hand wrapped around an ice-cold beer bottle. A smudge of engine grease arches across his cheek, somehow rendering him even more ruggedly handsome. His bright green eyes are roving all along my body, but for once he doesn’t seem ready to make a joke at my expense. I realize that he’s actually too caught off guard by my new look to speak. When his eyes finally find my face, I feel my knees go weak. He wants me. Bad. I can tell from the urgency in his gaze. And in this moment I’m reminded for the thousandth time how much I want him, too.
“Who do we have here?” John Baxter asks from the bar, cocking his head at me.
“This is the new girl at CrowdedNest,” Tiberi replies, wrapping an arm around Kassie’s slender waist.
“The new girl’s name is Keira,” I clarify. “Thanks for letting me stop by.”
“We’re not about to complain about having a hot red head around,” howls the man named Kip, raising a whiskey glass to me.
“Excuse me,” protests a feminine voice, “you already have a resident hot red head, Kip. Or have you forgotten?”
I glance toward the voice and spot a trio of women at the end of the bar. While Kassie and Kelly may not look like standard biker babes, these three are hitting the stereotype hard. There’s a plump blonde, a very thick brunette, and a voluptuous red head. All three are garbed in tiny tank tops, bare midriffs, and Daisy Dukes. And all three are staring daggers at me.
“Calm down, Sherry,” Kassie tells the pouting redheaded. “We’re not making Keira our mascot or anything. She’s just here for the party.”
“Speaking of,” says a women behind the bar, a gorgeous, modern day Bettie Paige, “I think it’s about time we get this thing started, don’t you?”
A rollicking roar rises up from the assembled men. The extra booze is dragged in from Kassie’s car, the barbecue supplies taken around back to the fire pit behind the clubhouse. Bodies in frenzied motion careen all around me as I stand awkwardly in the middle of the bar. I’ve been brought along to take part in the festivities, but I have no idea how to behave. I don’t even know how I’m allowed to behave. Mitchell and I never discussed this possibility. Can I talk to the members? Ask them about their club? Have a drink? Or five?