Troubled Son: Savage Sons MC Romance (14 page)

Moses

I
felt better after I said my piece to Max. I actually liked her, which surprised me. I didn't think that I'd find a fed as easy to talk to as she'd been. I wanted to make her understand why I'd gone to the FBI, and why I was willing to betray my brothers. I knew I'd feel that guilt for the rest of my life, even though I believed that I was doing the right thing.

We got back to the bike, and Max bent over to pull her socks up inside her boots. Good Lord. I'd already though her ass was magnificent, but she she bent over and I saw the stretch of purple lace shift into view, I thought I was gonna die. I adjusted myself in my jeans and walked around to the front of the bike since I couldn't stop staring. I realized my mistake while she was still bent over and I could see straight down her tight tank top. Her tits filled out the black and purple bra perfectly, meaning that she was just about to spill out. Jesus, it was like she was deliberately torturing me. I turned around and pretended that I was enjoying the view of the mountains, even though the Rockies were the least interesting part of the scene.

"I'm starving," Max announced. "Where are we going for dinner?"

"You like Mexican?"

"Love it, but only if I can get a margarita."

"I got just the place. It's close to the clubhouse, which is a good thing 'cause their margaritas will put you on your ass. We can go eat, throw back a few drinks, and crash at the club so we'll be ready for an early start in the morning."

"Sounds perfect."

By the time we got to the restaurant, I was starving too, and the first margaritas along with the chips and salsa vanished in no time. I asked the waitress to put an extra shot in the second round, deciding that I was ready to loosen up a little. Max seemed to be relaxing too, and while we devoured enchiladas, refritos, and Mexican rice, she told me stories about her family and her years spent in school.

"So you were a lawyer?"

"Yeah," she answered, polishing off her second margarita. "And I hated it."

"After all those years of school?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to spend all my time getting shitheads off of drug charges, no offense. And the prosecutor positions all seemed so political -- about getting ahead rather than doing something worthwhile. I applied to the FBI and got accepted."

"You like it?"

"I love it. I feel like what I do matters. I never expected to be doing undercover work like this though." Max's voice had dropped so that no one could overhear her. "When I think about all of the addicts whose lives are ruined by the crank you deal, it makes me sick, and I'm proud to be putting an end to it."

The guilt that I constantly tried to push away flooded over me. "I know. It bothers me too, and I can't do it any more. This is the right thing to do." Max had been polite to me, but I wondered what she really thought of me -- if she considered me as despicable as the rest of the Sons. At the end of the day, I wasn't sure it mattered, since they hadn't done anything I hadn't participated in.

Max looked at the bottom of her glass and waved the waitress over. "One more, please," she said, her face slightly flushed from the tequila.

I nodded when the waitress asked if I wanted one too. It looked like Max was getting a little buzz, and I hoped that I wouldn't have a sloppy drunk fed on my hands. I decided that the third round would for sure be our last, at least until we got back to the clubhouse.

"Max," I said, feeling like I needed her to hear what I had to say. "I've done some pretty awful things, and I won't try to deny it, but I know it was wrong, and I'm doing all of this to try to set it right going forward. At this point, that's all I can do."

"I know. And I'm gonna help you set it straight."

Max may have had a couple of drinks, but she was still in control, and I was glad to see it. I started to wonder if it was really a good idea to have her spend the night at the clubhouse, not knowing how she'd handle her booze, but after two strong drinks, I wasn't about to take the responsibility for our lives all the way to my house. The clubhouse would just have to do.

The next round arrived, and Max took a sip. "So we're going to record the club meeting. That's a start. I also want to get a few more things accomplished."

I nodded, glad that she seemed to have slowed down the margarita consumption.

"I want more information about where and how the components you're using to make the meth are getting here."

I scanned the room for the tenth time and leaned forward, lowering my voice. "You know about the Mexican connection, right?"

"Yeah. Tombley filled me in. That's the only reason DEA is involved at all, since it's easier for them to work in Mexico than it is for the FBI. We need specifics -- on tape -- about the names and locations where the stuff's being bought in Mexico and how it's getting across the border. That's key."

"I get it."

"We could go shut down the labs now, but we want more than just the pieces of shit cooking it. We want to get a better handle on the size and scope of the whole operation, and Tombley wants to know if your guys in Mexico are dealing with other meth producers in other parts of the country."

"Hadn't thought about that, and I don't know anything about it. Joker,
B
ug, and J.C. have handled the pickups and negotiations with the Mexicans. I haven't even met them."

Max thought for a minute. "We have to find a way to get more information about the Mexico angle. And while we're at it, we should probably subtly push for any info on the Vandals as well, just to be thorough."

"Yeah. When the Savage Sons go down, the Vandals are gonna move right in without taking the time to spit on our graves."

"They're not our primary objective, by any means, but let's see if we can't head that off while we're at it." Max slammed the rest of her drink and smiled at me. "Three margaritas is my limit, biker boy. Take me home."

I knew that she didn't mean anything by it, but when Max told me to take her home, I couldn't help but picture her in my bed -- not at the clubhouse, but at my house. Thinking about her stretched out and naked did not help my focus, and I reached over and brushed a piece of salt from her nose. "You're not gonna be handful, are you?"

"Nope. I'm good," she answered, standing up and signaling for the check. "Seriously," she said, looking into my eyes. "I'm good. I had enough to loosen me up, but I'm in control, and I plan on staying that way. Let's go meet your boys."

After I paid our tab, I watched Max walking back from the bathroom. The drinks really had relaxed her, and I noticed several of the guys in the bar checking her out as she walked by -- her long legs and sexy stride making her look both invincible and irresistible. She didn't even notice the attention she got. I was used to girls who worked too damn hard to try to make themselves look good and who were constantly checking themselves out in the mirror and comparing themselves to the other skanks who were hanging out. Max was nothing like the other women I'd been with, and I had no idea how I was gonna make it through the night in the same room with her. She still didn't know that we were gonna have to share a double bed.

She was about to find out.

"Ready?" I asked as she reached me.

"Yup," she answered with confidence.

"I'm gonna have to be hands on at the clubhouse. You're sure you're okay with that?"

She leaned forward, giving me a good look at her cleavage. "I can handle you, Moses," she said, close enough that I could smell the hint of tequila on her breath.

I shook my head as I followed her out the door. I was afraid the night was about to get interesting.

Chapter 19

Max

I
felt great. The Mexican food had been fantastic -- a real treat for an east coast girl, and the margaritas had been exactly what I wanted. I knew that I was a little tipsy, but I also knew my limits. I was in good shape, but I couldn't drink much more and stay completely in control. And as it was, I was having trouble resisting the urge to push Moses up against the wall and kiss him. I knew that I was about to walk into a serious den of iniquity, but Moses had every one of my nerve endings humming. I felt like I was spring loaded and the slightest provocation could send me over the edge. Even though I'd told him that I could handle his fake public displays of affection, in truth I was a little worried. Being close to him was intoxicating -- even more intoxicating than the margaritas had been.

It was getting pretty cold outside, and I was glad that we didn't have more than a couple of blocks to go. I put on my helmet, zipped up my Property of Savage Sons jacket, and I settled in behind Moses on the bike. Goddamn, did he feel good, all hard muscles and long, tall strength. Instead of keeping my hands at his hips, I slipped them around his waist.

"It's cold," I said by way of explanation.

He didn't say anything, and I figured that he was used to chicks on the back of his bike. We got to the clubhouse in about sixty seconds, and Moses parked near my crappy car. I laughed a little when I saw it, and I climbed down and headed over to pull out a few things for the night's stay at what I was sure would be luxurious accommodations. As if.

I grabbed my backpack, threw in a small bag of toiletries, checking to make sure that I had makeup remover for the heavy gunk I had around my eyes. I figured that the clubhouse would be smoky, and I didn't want to wear the same clothes laced with stale smoke in the morning, so I put in a clean pair of jeans and a top I'd gotten at Goodwill. I stopped for a second when I realized that I had no idea what the sleeping arrangements would be. Moses and I hadn't discussed them. I figured that we'd have to share a room, and I hoped like hell that there would be a couch for me to use. The thought of sleeping next to Moses didn't sound like a restful proposition to me, to put it mildly.

The tequila -- I'm sure that was the cause -- put a terribly naughty thought in my head, and before I could change my mind, I rooted through my suitcase and pulled out the most modest thing that Moses had bought at Kittens -- a pale pink nearly transparent teddy with matching bikini underwear. I stowed it in my backpack and also put in one of my more modest sleeveless satin nightshirts. I'd decide on my sleepwear later. Thoughts of Moses, his tattooed, muscled shoulders bare and in bed made me feel like it was a hundred degrees outside, and I swallowed as I zipped up my backpack.

I took a deep breath as I locked up the car, and I reminded myself to behave like the professional federal agent that I was. I couldn't let a devastatingly sexy outlaw biker interfere with my work. I stood up straight, squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and steeled myself for whatever the rest of the evening had in store. Slinging my backpack onto my shoulder, I walked back over to Moses.

"Ready."

"Time to show off my old lady." He put out his hand like he was expecting me to hand him something.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"My old lady doesn't carry her own shit." He waited until I handed over my backpack. "Okay. Let's go."

"Wait a minute," I said, putting my hand on his chest without thinking about the effect that feeling his perfectly defined pecs would have on me. I stuttered for a second and pulled my hand away as if it had been burned. "Neither of us has a recorder."

Moses shook his head. "We won't need one. We're gonna go hang out and my brothers are gonna drool all over you and wish they were the one who got to take you to bed. Ain't nothin' important gonna happen tonight. And besides that, we have eyes on us right now, sweetheart."

I looked around and realized that he was absolutely right. Not only was there the Son standing at the corner of the building keeping an eye on things in person, but there were cameras in several places outside.

"You're right. I'm ready. Gonna buy me a drink and introduce me to your brothers?"

"Absolutely, sweetheart." Moses put a possessive arm over my shoulders and we walked toward the unmarked door on the clubhouse side of the lot.

Moses entered a long code into the keypad at the door and waited until the light on the keypad turned green and a buzzer sounded to indicate that the door was unlocked. He opened the door and motioned me inside ahead of him. I could hear classic rock, clinking glasses, and loud conversation before we even got inside the big room. We stepped inside and every head in the room turned to check us out. Moses handed my backpack to a young guy with scraggly blond hair and told him to stow it in his room. I had hoped that I'd get a chance to scope things out and take a moment to myself in his room, but apparently I was on stage from the get-go.

I hung back and scanned the room while Moses hugged one of his brothers -- I was pretty sure it was Zeno based on the photos in my files -- and made a couple of girls vacate barstools for us. The room smelled like cigarette smoke and stale beer, and it looked like it could use a little fresh air, sunshine, and a truckload of cleaning products. It was unlikely to get any of those things. There were no windows, and the only attempt to soften the effect of the cinder block walls were some flags and some posters of mostly naked girls that looked like relics from the eighties. Based on the hairstyles in the posters, I figured that I probably looked pretty hot to these guys.