Thunderclap (Steel Infidels MC) (Bad Boy Romance) (Steel Infidels Series Book 4) Read online

  Bad choice of words.

  He obviously isn’t too drunk to catch my slip up and to take advantage of it.

  “Sorry, Sam. This is not happening tonight. You’re wasted.”

  I pull his hand out from under my shirt. He grumbles in protest.

  “I’m not having sex with someone who is drunk and won’t even remember it tomorrow,” I explain.

  I feel him smile against my neck.

  “So you would if I wasn’t drunk?” he asks.

  “I guess you’ll never know now, will you? You just blew your one big opportunity. Any chance with me is gone forever. Getting drunk and coming over here was a bad idea. What can I say? You screwed up.”

  “Now I’m sad,” he says in a pitiful voice.

  He really does sound sad. Sam has probably never heard the word ‘no’ from a woman. Maybe it’s time he learned he can’t get everything he wants. Resisting him is not going to be a problem for me, so he’d better get used to it.

  “Can I have a kiss to make me feel better?” he asks, his voice already sounding cheerful again. His sorrow didn’t last long.

  “No,” I snap back at him.

  He nibbles at my earlobe.

  “One little kiss,” he whispers into my ear. “That’s all and then I’ll be good. I promise.”

  Oh, you’re plenty good already.

  Heat floods through my body. I want to curl up into his lap, slide my fingers through his hair, and hold onto him until the sun comes up.

  “Lila,” he breathes slowly against my neck, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. “Kiss me.”

  He’s not going to give up. Sam is trying his best to seduce me, and his plan is working. There’s no point in denying what he is doing to me. My defenses are melting underneath his hands and the warm breath in my ear.

  I’ve put myself in a bad situation both personally and professionally.

  My job is to get close enough to Sam to place the surveillance equipment and gather information to build a case. Having sex with Sam is not in my job description.

  On the other hand, so what if I’m physically attracted to Sam? I’m a grown woman. I can do anything I want, including closing my eyes and leaning in to kiss the sexy man holding me on his lap.

  Plus, I’m tired and it’s the middle of the night. I can’t think straight.

  What’s the possible harm in one little kiss?

  “One kiss and one kiss only,” I finally say, caving in.

  “That’s all I need,” he murmurs huskily, right before covering my mouth with his. Strong, warm hands hold my throat, keeping me in place, his grasp gentle yet possessive. The raging intensity of heat that immediately surges between us catches me off guard. Before I realize it, I’m kissing him back, opening my mouth and welcoming his tongue. I melt into him as our kiss deepens into something seamless and primal.

  Long minutes pass before Sam draws away just an inch, only long enough to give me time to catch my breath.

  Damn that felt good.

  “There’s your one kiss,” I say, my voice unrecognizable to my own ears. “The show’s over.”

  I’m reeling from the aftershocks. Sure, I knew kissing Sam would be good. He’s a ladies' man. Of course he would know how to please a woman. With my eyes still shut tight, I feel more than see his smile as he moves his lips against mine.

  “Maybe I want more than one,” he growls, his grasp on my throat tightening just a fraction as he seizes my lips again with a ferocious frenzy.

  My fingers clutch at the back of his neck with my self-control sliding down a slippery slope. His heart is racing wildly underneath my hand on his shirt. It would be so easy to move this into the bedroom.

  I would like to.

  No, that’s a lie.

  I would love to.

  But I won’t.

  I meant what I told him. I’m not sleeping with him.

  Mustering all the willpower I have in me, I reluctantly break the kiss and pull back. We’re both breathing erratically and I’m in a daze. Reaching up, I smooth back a messy lock of his hair that keeps falling down over his forehead.

  “You’re sleeping on the sofa tonight,” I say with a bit of regret. “Not in the bed with me.”

  “Okay,” he mumbles, and he abruptly turns me loose so I can slide off his lap.

  “No arguments from you?”

  I give him a suspicious look because I’m surprised he would give up so easily. And maybe a tad disappointed too.

  “None,” he says before adding, “Do you know how to cook biscuits and gravy?”

  I stare at him. We just shared the best kiss of my life, and he’s thinking about food? Does he really think I’m going to get up early and cook him breakfast? Sam must have balls of steel to suggest such a thing to me.

  “Do I look like a short order cook to you? No, I don’t know how to cook biscuits and gravy, and I don’t want to learn. Don’t get any thoughts about hanging around for breakfast. Not even coffee. In the morning, you need to get your hungover butt up early and leave. I’ve got work to do and I’m sure you do too.”

  “Trish knows how to cook biscuits,” he rambles on. “She’s married to my brother, Jesse. She can teach you if you want. Southern cooking, and all that other stuff. You can write about it in the magazine.”

  Oh my God.

  Why did I ever tell him I was writing a magazine article? He is never going to let this go.

  From my research, I know that Trish’s brother was the vice president of a rival motorcycle club who is now sitting in jail for firebombing a bar in Panama City. Other than that, I don’t know much about Trish except that she worked at the bar as one of the beer tub gals.

  “I’m sure Trish knows how to do all kinds of fun things that I’m not interested in learning,” I say. “So please don’t go setting up any cooking classes with me and Trish. You’re never going to see this girl getting up early to cook you biscuits and gravy, so you can put it out of your mind and forget it.”

  He leans his head back and closes his eyes. “Never hurts to ask.”

  “You can ask, but it’s not going to happen,” I say. “Are you still listening to me?”

  He doesn’t answer. Another minute and he’s going to be out.

  “Don’t go to sleep in the chair or you’ll fall on the floor and knock yourself unconscious.”

  I pick his keys up off the table and slide them into my pocket. He can’t be trusted to make good decisions tonight. Maybe not any night. Sam strikes me as a spur of the moment guy who never thinks before he acts.

  Pretty much the exact opposite of me.

  “Stay here and I’ll find a blanket and pillow for you. The house came furnished and I don’t know where everything is yet. Okay?”

  He barely nods.

  It takes me a few minutes to find an extra set of sheets and a light blanket. When I walk back into the kitchen with them, Sam is missing.

  Now what?

  “Sam?” I call out. “Where are you?”

  No answer.

  I open the door and check to make sure his bike is still parked out front. For a second I was afraid he had a second key hidden somewhere and had taken off. I’m relieved to see he didn’t.

  I check the living room and the bathrooms. No Sam. Only one room left to check. If he’s where I think he is, he’s going to be in big trouble. I toss the pillow and blanket onto the sofa and head for my bedroom. So help me, if he has crawled into my bed, I’m going to dump his ass right onto the floor.

  The word ‘no’ means ‘no’ and it makes me angry when men think I’m only kidding when I say it.

  I turn the knob and step inside.

  Whoa!

  Okay. Maybe I won’t dump him out just yet.

  Sam is lying on the bed completely naked with his back to me. A muscular arm covered in tattoos is slung over his head, and he is out cold. I consider shaking him awake and decide the view is too good to disturb.

  I quietly inch closer to take a look
at the large Steel Infidels tattoo stretching all the way from one shoulder to the other on his back. My eyes glide down his spine to the finest looking male ass I’ve ever seen.

  Definitely a ‘do not disturb’ situation.

  After all, who cares where he sleeps? The bed, the couch...the location is merely a technicality. As long as it’s not with me, it doesn’t matter. I can sleep on the sofa and maybe even curled up in the chair on the other side of the room.

  Where I can keep a close eye on him.

  For observational purposes only.

  He might choke in his sleep or something, so I should definitely stay in the same room. It’s not hard to convince myself that the situation isn’t so bad and I can definitely find a way to work around it.

  Lying in a pile on the floor are his clothes and leather boots. Never one to miss a good opportunity, I slide my hand into his pants pocket and pull out his wallet and cell phone. Not surprising he’s carrying a cheap prepaid phone instead of a smartphone. The bikers most likely switch them out often. I turn his phone on and look through his call records and a few texts. Nothing interesting jumps out at me.

  The ATF has wiretaps on the home phone where he lives with Jesse. His brother Flint’s phone is tapped, too. When the ATF tried to place wiretaps on the other members of the Steel Infidels, the local judge gave us grief about it. Said we couldn’t prove enough cause. We don’t need to tap the others anyway.

  Anything big that happens with the Steel Infidels involves Sam, Jesse, and Flint. No matter what’s going on, at least one of them is right in the middle of it. My gut instinct tells me that the newest member, Toby, needs to be kept under surveillance too. His military background as a Marine and his gun expertise concerns me.

  I quietly turn off Sam’s cell phone and lean over his body to make sure he’s still breathing. It would be bad to have a target of an investigation die in my bed.

  After putting the phone back into his pocket, I reach for his wallet. One side contains two hundred dollar bills and a few twenties. More cash than I would carry, though not an outrageous amount.

  No credit cards in the wallet, only a driver’s license with a photo of a much younger Sam. Even then he was a handsome devil. I can’t imagine the trouble he must have gotten into as a teenager. Tucked into the other side are two condoms in their foil packages.

  Suddenly feeling like a creepy pervert, though I’m only doing my job, I close the wallet and put it back. The condoms gave me a weird feeling. I don’t know why. At least he’s responsible and careful. That’s better than a lot of men. And it’s not like I don’t know that he’s a manwhore already. My research made that blatantly clear.

  Even so, the thought of Sam being with other women bothers me a little bit.

  Which is dumb.

  This isn’t real.

  Sam needs to stay off-limits.

  No matter how much I might enjoy sex with him, it can only screw things up all the way around. No more kissing and no more touching. Nothing says I can’t still look though.

  And I will.

  All night.

  After all, who needs sleep?

  Certainly not me.

  ***

  I wake up the next morning in the chair with a light blanket tucked around me. Sam is already gone. He must have taken the blanket off the bed and covered me up with it before he left. His surprising thoughtfulness brings a smile to my face. Maybe his mother taught him a few good manners after all.

  The sheets on the bed are a tangled mess. Considering how drunk he was, I’m surprised he moved a muscle. The bed looks like an F-5 tornado tore through it.

  I walk over to the bed, pick up the pillow, and bring it to my nose. The scent of the soap Sam uses is still on the pillowcase. All I have to do is close my eyes and I can see him as clearly as if he’s standing beside me. Instead of changing the pillowcase, I put the pillow back down on the side of the bed where I normally sleep.

  The weeks of research on Sam leading up to the undercover operation must be messing with my head. In a way, I feel like I’ve known him forever, and yet he constantly surprises me with the crazy things he says and does.

  Sam is one sizzling hot mess.

  No doubt about it.

  ***

  I’m dreading making the daily check-in call to my boss, Frank. No matter how much progress I’m making, it won’t be enough for him. He rides me during every investigation to push harder and work faster.

  The other field agents feel the same way about him.

  Frank continues to put us in volatile situations with little to no regard for our safety. According to him, no risk is too great. Which is easy for him to say. He’s sitting all comfy behind a desk while we’re out sweating undercover in the field.

  I call his number and he answers on the first ring.

  “Hi Frank, it’s me,” I say. “Calling in with an update.”

  “It had better be good,” he says in a gruff voice. “My boss is on my ass about blowing taxpayer’s money to shut down a group of small-town bikers.”

  This is the first time I’ve heard him mention problems with his boss. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings if he got reassigned

  I quickly fill him in on the progress I’ve made so far. A normal boss would be pleased by the fact that I made contact with Sam so quickly. Instead he starts pushing me to place the surveillance bugs.

  “If you’re already hanging out with the guy, you shouldn’t have any problem placing the bug in his tattoo shop,” he says. “Don’t forget that’s the main reason you’re there. As long as the bugs are installed, we’ll get everything else we need.”

  “That might be too suspicious,” I argue back. “I don’t have a reason to show up there uninvited yet. These things take time to gain trust. Do you want to get me killed? We just met.”

  “Stop stalling and set up the bugs,” he says. “It should be simple. We only need them in three spots - the tattoo shop, his house, and the Steel Infidels clubhouse. Get them in place now. If you don’t have the balls to do the job, I’ll send somebody else who can. You got it?”

  Frank knows how to get to me. Threatening to send another agent to take over my investigation is about the worst thing he can do. Even the thought of closely working with another person makes my skin crawl. Partners aren’t for me. Other agents only slow me down.

  I always work alone.

  And nobody else from the team knows the Steel Infidels like I do. There’s no way I’m letting someone else take over this investigation. I need to stay in place.

  “I can handle it,” I say. “One bug at a time though. I’ll do the tattoo shop first and then I’ll have to work my way up to the other two. Sam isn’t going to invite a stranger to his house, especially since he lives with Jesse and his wife. I can’t imagine being able to gain access to the clubhouse ever. If I do, it will be a long shot, so don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Do it today,” he says. “You’re inventive. I’m sure you can come up with a good excuse to go to the tattoo shop. Call me when the bug is in place and the tapes are rolling.”

  I blow out a long breath.

  Might as well get this over with. The bugs will have to be placed sooner or later anyway. No point in dragging this out.

  “I’m on it,” I say.

  Chapter Eight

  Sam

  It’s almost noon and I’ve already finished two tattoo jobs. Business is going great these days. Once word got around town that I specialize in tattoos for women, I got all the customers I can reasonably handle.

  Jesse comes in several times a week to help me with the overload and to take care of our finances. He is more comfortable doing the simpler tattoos and prefers to leave the bigger, artistic masterpieces to me. Trish balked at the thought of Jesse doing tattoos for female customers, so now I take them all. If a customer wants a skull tattoo, they go to Jesse. If they want a cute little butterfly on their ass, they come to me.

  My last customer of the morning, a cute blonde i
n shorts and pink tank top, didn’t want to leave after I finished a flower tattoo high on her inner thigh. It's a recurring problem that I encounter quite often. Over the years, I’ve learned how to say ‘no’ while at the same time letting the women think I’m saying ‘maybe later.' No feelings get hurt, everyone leaves happy, and I have a return customer. I practically had to drag her to the front door and politely push her outside.

  The bell on the front door jingles. I look up from my desk where I’m hand-drawing an intricate tattoo for a special customer. Lila steps inside carrying a bag of takeout food. She’s stunning in a short white sundress and high-heeled sandals. Her hair is pulled up on one side with a clip. Gold hoop earrings dangle from her ears.

  This is the first time I’ve seen her in a dress, and I’m floored. My cock begins to stir before the door shuts behind her. Dropping my pencil, I hurry over and lean down to kiss her softly on the lips.

  She draws back in surprise and then gives me what sure as hell feels like a genuine pleased smile.

  “Wow,” I say. “You just made my day, beautiful lady. What’s the occasion? And why are you dressed up? You look fantastic by the way.”

  “No special reason,” she says. “Except that I felt kind of bad about telling you to get up early this morning and leave before breakfast. I didn’t mean that you had to disappear before daylight. What time did you leave?”

  “Around five thirty,” I answer. “And I owe you a big apology for stealing your bed. When I woke up and saw you curled up asleep in a chair, I was afraid you would never speak to me again. I’m glad you’re here. Can I tell you again how much I love the dress?”

  “Yes, you can. I usually wear shorts, so I wanted to wear something nice for a change and bring you lunch.” She holds up the bag from a deli down the street. “If you have time that is. Am I interrupting anything?”

  “Nope, not a thing. My next client appointment isn’t for at least another hour. Come in and sit down.”

  I take her hand and clear out a chair for her to sit down on. She looks curiously around the tattoo shop’s front office.