Mating Fever by Susan Hayes
Lily/Trina
Fuck my life.
It was a good thing she wasn’t armed right now. Special Agent Trina Thorn was seconds away from shooting everyone and calling it a day, which would have blown any chance she had of taking down these assholes once and for all. They’d been trying to take down the Legion club for what felt like forever, but they’d never managed to get someone on the inside.
Their break had come when more than half the club’s leadership got themselves slaughtered by a rival club. The massacre had been so big it made headlines across the country. In the power vacuum that came afterward, shitty decisions were made. The wrong people took over, and now factions were tearing the club apart, leaving cracks big enough to drive a tank through.
Trina had been sent to take advantage of one of those cracks.
Getting traded to the club like a pack of baseball cards hadn’t been her idea. No, the plan had come from her asshole of a supervising agent, Max Patterson. He tried to get her to sleep with him. When she’d laughed and told him to pound sand, he’d taken it badly. Working for someone who had it in for you was never fun, and in her line of work it was a fast way to an early grave.
She’d requested a transfer, but the son of a bitch had dropped her into this op before the paperwork had gone through. So here she was, dangling over the shoulder of some unwashed barbarian biker, soaking wet and madder than hell. When she saw Max again, she was going to feed him his spleen.
To add to her fury, the arrogant son of a bitch with his hand on her ass was laughing at her, or more likely, laughing at her name. Fuck knows she couldn’t blame him for it, she’d laughed, too until she’d discovered it wasn’t a joke. Another gift from her asshole supervisor.
Lily White… yeah. Max was a dead man.
“Lily, if you want to hate me, that’s just fine. Most people do. But right now I’m the only one standing between you and getting fucked by every patched member of this club, so I’d suggest you be nice to me from now on.”
Her hulk-sized captor set her on her feet again, and she finally got a decent look at him. He didn’t look at all familiar, which meant he hadn’t been in any of the intel she’d been given. Wonderful, an unknown player, just what I fucking needed.
She took a closer look and felt her temperature rise a few degrees. Fuck a duck, when did the Legion start recruiting sex gods? He was big all over, from the width of his shoulders to the still-hard cock nicely outlined by the snug fit of his jeans. The rain had soaked his shirt, and it clung to every muscle of his sculpted chest and tattooed arms. His dark hair was long enough he had it pulled back in a ponytail, which only emphasized his chiseled features and smoldering brown eyes. All her indignation at the way he manhandled her evaporated as a flood of liquid heat drenched her pussy and drenched her panties. Holy hell, the man was hot. An arrogant bastard who had threatened to do unspeakable things to her in the middle of the driveway, but still… hot.
I need my head examined.
He wrapped one massive, tattooed arm around her waist and tucked her into his side before scowling at everyone else present. “This one’s mine while I’m here. No one touches her or I’ll break off whatever body part they touched her with. We clear?”
“Snarl’s not gonna’ like it,” the biggest of the bikers said with a frown.
“Snarl can have her after I’m gone, Ogre. Call it a loan. I haven’t got an old lady, and the skanks you have at your clubhouse are so nasty not even Freak will touch ‘em. I’ll break her in, and when I hit the road, she belongs to the club.”
Lightning streaked across the sky and the thunder cracked loud enough to stop all conversation for a few seconds, adding a dramatic pause to an already surreal moment. This was not how the deal was supposed to go. Nowhere in her briefing had anyone mentioned sending her in as a fucking sex slave. Dwayne was supposed to introduce her as his half-sister and see if any of them took an interest in her. If they did, she’d go with them, and if they didn’t, she’d work her way in slowly, using Dwayne’s connections. Someone had changed the plan, and she wasn’t fucking happy about it.
She let her head sag until her bangs fell over her eyes. Now her face was partially hidden. She started looking around for Dwayne.
He was standing a few feet away, twitching so badly she half expected him to shake apart at any second. He caught her looking his way and ducked his head, his feet shuffling in the rapidly forming mud. When this operation was over, she was coming back here to kick his skinny ass for this.
But all that would have to wait until later. Right now, she had a bigger problem… one standing about six-foot-three and had delusions that she somehow belonged to him just because he said so. Her mission was to gather enough evidence to link the mother chapter of the Legion to the drugs and weapons being transported out of the Cummingford area. This change in plans meant she was going to have to find a way to do her job while avoiding the asshole Adonis who wanted a playmate.
This wasn’t going to be fun.
While she was coming to grips with her new reality, the guys seemed to have come to an understanding.
“… if you say so, Ramrod, but you’ll be the one explaining shit to Snarl when we get back.”
The guy holding her just shook his head. “I don’t have to explain myself to anyone in your fucking club, Ogre. I report to Rocket, not Snarl. You want me to send word you’re dicking me around?”
Ogre winced. “Not really.”
“I didn’t think so. Stop fucking with me and keep that shit-for-brains potential away from me and my property. I see Freak’s ugly face again once we’re back at the clubhouse and he’s going to bleed. We clear?”
So, the big guy had a name, Ramrod. Awesome, another biker with a road name screaming “overcompensation.” Then again, having been up close and personal with this particular biker’s equipment, maybe it was less bragging and more a statement of fact. She had no interest in finding out. Hot or not, he was a criminal, and there was nothing sexy about a man who made a living from other people’s pain and suffering.
“You ride with me, sweet cheeks,” her new admirer murmured in her ear.
“I need my stuff. It’s in the trailer,” Trina said, forcing herself to keep her voice to a soft, terrified, whisper. Her momma had always told her she could get more flies with honey than with vinegar, and it turned out it was true even when she was undercover. It didn’t hurt that she was blonde, curvy, and looked like the sweet girl-next-door and not a fully trained ATF agent. Her looks were why she ended up with assignments like this time after fucking time.
“Dwayne, get your sister’s shit and bring it out here. Now.”
“I don’t even know who you are, asshole, I don’t have to do what you tell me.”
Ramrod snarled in frustration. “I’m the man who is going to tear your head off and use it for a toilet if you say one more fucking word.”
Dwayne opened his mouth, then closed it again and scampered off to the nearest RV.
“Good choice,” Ramrod rumbled, and Trina had to fight the urge to laugh. Despite the dire circumstances—or maybe because of them—she was actually enjoying this madness. She really needed to get her head examined. If she survived this mess, she’d book time with a shrink. Right after she filed a lengthy report against her supervisor for putting her in this fucked-up position.
Another boom of thunder sounded right overhead. She jumped, but the noise snapped her focus back to the here and now.
“We could go back into the barn,” one of the others suggested, but Ramrod cut his hand through the air, negating the suggestion.
“We get the shit we came for and Lily’s things, and we get out of here. We’re already soaked to the bone, a little more water won’t hurt us.” He leaned in close, his chest pressed against her back as he dropped his gaze. “Matter of fact, I think this rain is improving the view.”
She glanced down and immediately crossed her arms over her chest. The thin, white, cotton crop-top she wore was soaked through and was more or less transparent now, revealing the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra. The others laughed. Then the big jerk did something surprising. He took off his leather vest and dropped it over her shoulders, making sure she was decently covered. Maybe there was a vestige of decency in this guy, after all.
“Get your eyes off my property, assholes.”
She sighed. Or he could just be another arrogant, possessive caveman.
