Chapter 2
Kara. What the hell was she doing in a place like this?
Elegant five-star restaurants on the beach were her style. Not this laid-back bar in the middle of farm country.
He rubbed his bearded face, ruefully thinking of what he must look like. Not the clean-cut man in black tie she’d seen recently at a fundraiser for the turtle hospital. Seeing her at the gala had been the first time he’d encountered her since their bad break-up six years ago, and wow, that hurt. He hated what he had to do for this assignment, hated having to act like his old man. But the end surely must justify the means. He needed to nab the small fish—Lance—who was the president of the Florida Devil’s Patrol, to get to the big fish.
The leader and holder of power in the Southeastern Division of the Devil’s Patrol was nicknamed Marcus Aurelius, and he was a shadowy figure much like a mafia kingpin. Before Marcus came along, the Devil’s Patrol was an outlaw biker club into petty theft.
A year ago, they began stealing, selling guns and even distributing drugs. Intel picked up chatter about a new mover and shaker in the DP and his name was Marcus, a biker wanting to protect his identity and avoid law enforcement.
Anyone could be Marcus. Little was known about him. They needed to nail the bastard. Surveillance chatter on social media indicated a possible domestic terror plot in the works. Marcus was going after something big and the public was in danger.
For more than three months, Jace had grown his hair and beard. This undercover assignment required him to look the part. Taking his motorcycle out every day, hanging in the places where the Devil’s Patrol gathered. Using his old man’s knowledge of the gang to make inroads, thankful his old man was still imprisoned. Getting a job as a motorcycle mechanic in the garage the club owned.
The Bureau had even set him up with a fake criminal record for assault on a police officer, fake jail time and fake fingerprints to loan him credibility with the DP.
Jace was close to acceptance. So close to gaining an inroad with the group he needed to infiltrate.
Kara might blow his cover. Then again, when they’d dated, he hadn’t yet worked for the FBI.
He couldn’t deny his attraction to her, the pull of longing when he saw her.
The woman on his lap turned his head toward her. “Hey, lover boy, pay attention. I asked a question. Stop staring at the eye candy. She’s way out of your league.”
Jace blinked hard, inwardly cursing. Seeing Kara had almost made him blow it. He looked up at the woman, gave a lazy grin and took a swig of beer. “What can I do for you, little lady?”
Allison Lexington was a female biker who hung around the Devil’s Patrol. Unlike other DP female groupies, she was an experienced biker who eschewed the men’s advances.
Lance, who regarded women as assets, gave orders that she wasn’t to be harassed because Allison was also a trauma-room nurse who’d saved his life a few weeks ago. At a bike rally, Lance had taken a bullet to the shoulder and refused to go to the hospital, which had to report all gunshot cases to the local police. Allison, who witnessed the gun battle, brought Lance to a friend’s veterinary office and patched him up. Lance never forgot a debt.
Or who owed him.
Allison brought over beer, groceries, did their laundry, did everything but sleep with the guys. Brunette, with big brown eyes and a pretty smile, she was as tough as the bikers. Probably tougher, since she’d seen a lot working trauma cases.
“You’re awfully quiet, Gator,” Allison cooed as she ran her red manicured nails down the front of his shirt.
Allison knew things. Last night while sharing a beer, she hinted Lance’s boys on racing bikes had knocked over a jewelry store last week and the haul was small, but significant. Lance organized the heist. The burglaries began two months ago with a pawnshop.
So he’d told her everything about himself with the cover he’d created, to increase his rep and knowing the information would trickle down to Lance.
Speaking of the chief devil, Lance skirted the bar after returning from the men’s room, and eyeballed Kara with interest. Too much interest. He planted himself in front of Kara.
“Hello, beautiful. Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Lance drawled.
Every muscle in Jace’s body tensed. He fought the urge to spring up, rush to her side and defend her from this prick. Maybe even punch him in the face. He used all the self-control he’d learned in the Army Rangers on missions to play it cool.
Kara looked him up and down as if Lance was a new species of cockroach. Her pert nose wrinkled. “If your eyes are sore, may I suggest an optometrist?”
Then she sidestepped Lance, her cool look of disgust stomping on the man’s ego as if she’d danced a flamenco in her designer heels all over the front of his dirty gray shirt. Jace silently applauded. Atta girl.
With a snort, Lance swaggered toward Jace’s table.
“Jace Brown.” Lance swung a leg over a chair. “We need to talk.”
Without ceremony, silently apologizing to Allison for being a prick, Jace shoved her off his lap. “Beat it.”
As she pouted and flounced off, he looked at Lance. “What’s the deal with her?”
Jace jerked a thumb at the departing Kara.
Lance frowned. “Pretty, but snobby. Women are only good for cooking and screwing, and I can have all the ones I want.”
Right. Keep telling yourself that, Lance. There was no shortage of women for club members, but not the kind Lance seemed to covet. Women like Kara—cultured, sophisticated and beautiful.
“Why you interested?” Lance demanded.
“Just asking.”
“More than asking.” Lance’s brown gaze sharpened. “Seeing the way you keep staring at her, looks like you’re into her. Or were into her. You know her? Who is she?”
Sweat trickled down his back. Damn. Lance wasn’t foolish. If he denied knowing Kara, Lance could do a little more digging into Jace’s past, and despite the cover story the Bureau set up for him, things could get dicey.
He was almost in with the DP. Lies only got him so far, and he couldn’t blow it now.
“I did know her. We dated once.” Jace took a long chug of beer. “You know that guy she was with, Lance?”
If he turned the attention away from himself, and Kara, maybe Lance would lose interest. Instead, the biker grew speculative.
