CHAPTER ONE
36 hours earlier
Matt
“She’s here.”
The roadhouse was packed and teeming with people, but Matt didn’t need to look up to know who his mechanic meant. He’d felt his body tense up as if sensing her presence, and there was only one woman who’d been occupying his headspace this past few months.
Grace Levinson.
The feisty DEA agent who had a body made for sin and a mouth that could drive a man crazy.
And how he hated her.
Because last night he finally tasted her. He’d finally felt how it was to have his fingers tangled in her hair, gripping it tight while he drove into her from behind. He’d finally fucked her and gotten her out of his system. Or so he thought. He shut her out brutally so he’d never have to go there again—heaven and hell. But she was here.
“Looks like you have yourself a stage-five clinger,” Axe commented as he took a swig of his beer.
God, he hoped not, Matt thought, because the urge to fuck Grace had escalated to alarming levels now that he’d had a taste. He’d promised himself that one time only, convincing himself it would satisfy a curiosity, but it had backfired. Any willingness on her part and his resolve would crumble.
Matt allowed his gaze to drift to the door. She looks amazing.
Her dark hair hung around her shoulders in loose waves which reminded him just how he’d held it when he had her on her knees last night. His cock hardened at the memory.
“I must say,” Axe continued his commentary with a low whistle, “those legs in those fuck-me boots, not to mention that excuse of a skirt that’s barely covering her ass.” Another gulp of his beer. “I bet you every dick in this room is thinking about hitting that.” His friend waggled his brows at him.
A strange emotion clawed at Matt’s chest as he glared at his friend who immediately smirked.
“Shut up, Axe,” he growled.
His mechanic raised a brow in feigned innocence. “What? We’ve had conversations about chicks before.”
Matt clamped his mouth shut and controlled the urge to hit his friend. He turned instead to the woman currently making her way to the bar. Their eyes met across the room and a frisson of awareness shot down his spine. She broke eye contact first, shrugged, and sat on a bar stool.
“Well, looks like she’s waiting for you or someone else to pick her up,” Axe continued his play-by-play.
“Didn’t I just tell you to shut up,” Matt muttered as he raised his own beer to mouth. He cursed to find his bottle empty.
It was Saturday night at Mike’s Roadhouse, a popular bar for the citizens of Buckland County. It was located between Misty Grove where Matt resided and the county seat of Edington. The crowd was a mixed bunch. Although one would classify the roadhouse as a biker and blue collar hangout, college kids and other preppy clientele came in to walk on the wild side. They were easy to spot, though. But not Grace—her years undercover in the seedy underworld of mobs and cartels had honed her skill to blend in. But Matt knew how she looked underneath all that makeup. Her face was heartbreakingly beautiful and beguilingly innocent, yet those full lips and mesmerizing green eyes would tempt a saint to sin. He’d been enthralled all those years ago when they had bunked together for a covert assignment. How he’d ached for her then, wanting to explore that innocent façade and do dirty things to her.
“I’m surprised you finally hooked up with her,” Axe said slyly. “I thought you hated her guts.”
He did, but now it was for a different reason—one he refused to examine. Only a few people in Misty Grove knew Grace was DEA. Everyone else, including Axe, thought she was a blood-thirsty reporter hell-bent on getting the inside details of the “biker war” that exploded in their town a couple of months ago. “I did. Turned out her boss was a dick and I didn’t have all the facts.”
This was partly true.
“So, she didn’t sell you out after all? How come you never mentioned this to me?”
Matt was getting irritated at his friend’s persistence. “No. And because it’s none of your business. Besides, she’s leaving Misty Grove on Monday for DC, and she has no plans of coming back.”
Especially, after the way I left her this morning.
“Okay.” His mechanic shrugged. “Then you don’t care if Romeo over there is trying to pick up your girl?”
Matt whipped his head around so fast, he nearly tipped his beer bottle over. He scowled. Sure enough, some biker had sidled up to Grace and was leaning in a little too close for his liking. Before he realized what he was doing, he had risen from the booth and was halfway across the room heading straight for her.
Her eyes widened when she saw him barreling over with murder on his face because that was exactly how he was feeling. She hopped off the bar stool and intercepted him, pressing a hand on his chest.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Grace hissed. His eyes flickered at her in annoyance before glaring over the top of her head at the biker who was surprised to see him there.
“Problem here?” The man had a death wish asking that question.
“Yes,” Matt growled. “Get lost.”
The biker puffed up and was about to say something when he thought better of it. He raised both hands in surrender. “Didn’t know she was taken. You shouldn’t leave a prime piece like her sitting alone in a biker bar.”
Grace expelled an irritated huff before digging her fingers into his tee and dragging him toward the restrooms. He enjoyed riling her up and loved her hands on him even more. When they reached the hallway that led to the restrooms, she released him with a push. Then she crowded him and tapped him on the chest. “What the hell was that, huh? What the hell were you trying to prove out there?”
“I didn’t want you making a mistake with some random guy because of what happened this morning,” he fired back.
She rolled her eyes. “How is this any different from our one-night-stand?”
“You’ve known me for years.”
“Does that give you a right to dictate who I sleep with?”
Matt’s jaw tensed. “No. But I’d feel guilty if you picked up some psycho.”
Her half-laugh dripped with sarcasm. “Been there, done that. You were the worst morning-after I’ve ever had.”
He deserved that. “Yeah, it was shitty for me to leave you in a motel like that—”
“When I suggested spending the weekend together, you didn’t have to react like I asked you to spend the rest of your life with me. You jumped out of bed like it was on fire, telling me you didn’t want any repeat while yanking on your clothes. Then you slammed out of that motel room while I was sitting up in the bed, naked and wondering what the hell just happened. You trampled on my pride. I was humiliated. Do you hate me or something? You were an asshole when I first arrived in Misty Grove and I was simply doing my job and covering your ass. And then last night you fucked my brains out as if you were pissed at me.”
“Are you complaining?” Matt replied evenly. “You came on my mouth, my cock, and my fingers so it’s not like I left you wanting. Or did I? You think you can find someone here who can fuck you like I did? Sorry, babe, I’m a one-of-a-kind fuck. You want more? Fine, I think I can accommodate you one more night.”
Say yes, gypsy eyes. Let me get you out of my system.
“Oh, my God, you’ve got such an ego!” Grace whispered loudly. A couple of women exited the ladies room and eyed them, specifically him, with interest.
Now, that was why he had an ego. Women came easy to him. Most women, except Grace.
“You want the thrill, don’t you?” Matt stepped closer, cornering her curvy body against the wall, not giving a damn about the curiosity their exchange was attracting from the patrons traversing the hallway. “You want some bad boy to fuck the starch out of that all-business crap you insist on wearing during the day.”
His eyes dropped to her lips, recalling how they’d wrapped around his cock as her green eyes stared up promising him more. Matt lowered his head, and fuck if he couldn’t get lost in those emerald orbs, cursing the dim lighting that dampened their brilliance. He pressed closer until he could feel her generous tits under that skimpy top that displayed a fair amount of cleavage. His hands swept under her short skirt and gripped the firm globes of her ass. His cock was painfully hard against his jeans.
“Matt …” Her lips parted and her breath hitched. “Don’t …”
“What? Don’t stop,” he mumbled against her lips. “You shouldn’t wear clothes like this, babe. All a man could think about right now is wrapping those sexy legs around him, so he can pound the fuck out of you.”
“I think, Foster, you’re trespassing on my date,” an amused voice spoke from beside them.
What the fuck?
Matt knew that voice. He turned his head slowly while still keeping his palms firmly on Grace’s ass.
Sure enough, there stood Troy deLamar—the leader of the Flaming Bricks motorcycle gang. Not affiliated with any motorcycle club, they were just a group of bikers with no set rules. They had their compound outside of Misty Grove, yet they claimed to be a part of Matt’s small town. They had no fixed structure. No President or VP, but he knew Troy ran that outfit. Just as Matt knew the biker had deep connections with the Mexican cartels and the Dixie Mafia. The man had also saved his life once upon a time. That knowledge burned through him right then.
Troy eyed Grace’s skirt. “Now would be a good time to remove your hands from her ass.”
“And if I don’t?” Matt challenged.
The other man narrowed his eyes. “Are we forgetting you owe me, Foster?”
“Fantastic,” Grace muttered, shoving so hard against him, he didn’t have a choice but to let her go without leaving marks on her skin. “Last I checked, I wasn’t Matt’s to bargain with,” she added, walking up to the tall, blond, brawny biker even as Matt had the overwhelming desire to haul her back.
“I didn’t think you were his, darlin’,” Troy drawled, pulling Grace close and kissing her on the cheek. “But I’m not above using the marker he owes me to get what I want.”
Matt bristled at the claim the biker was putting on Grace, and the only reason he hadn’t pulled out his piece and blown the man’s brains out was because a) like the man said, Matt owed him his life, b) Grace was not exactly melting into Troy’s arms, and c) he actually liked the guy—present moment excluded.
But he knew Troy enough to know that he had a way with women. Matt regretted introducing the biker to Grace, but that was part of her cover. Eyeing them both at the moment, he realized something was up. She’d been tight-lipped about what she needed from Troy, and Matt acted as the bridge to appease the powers that be at the DEA to leave him alone after what had gone down with the fabricated biker war.
“I didn’t think you went for sloppy seconds, Troy.” The words were out before Matt could stop himself. A wounded gasp followed by a stinging slap against his cheek told him he’d gone too far. Grace was up in his face, her eyes shooting sparks of anger, hurt, and disappointment at him.
“I’ll pretend you didn’t mean that,” she said with choked anger. “But you just don’t have a very good track record with me, do you, Matthew Foster? You want to fuck me, but you don’t respect me. You’ve proven to me time and again what exactly you think of me, and I’m so sick and tired of making excuses for how you treat me because of what happened in Mexico. I’m done.” She shook her head in regret. “So done. You won’t be seeing me again, and do me a favor as well.” She inhaled deeply. “Just stay away from me.”
With those biting words, she turned her back on him with determined finality. Matt’s chest cracked with physical pain. It hurt to fucking breathe.
“Don’t worry, Gracie, I respect you,” Troy said, smirking at Matt as he ushered Grace away from him and led her back to the bar. He wanted to kill the motherfucker.
What do you expect, asshole? You practically sent her running into another man’s arms.
Christ, he fucked that up, but exactly what did he fuck up? There was nothing between him and Grace. And after this scene? He had made certain there never, ever would be.
“You’re just going to let Troy walk out with your girl?” Axe’s censuring voice said from behind him.
“She was never my girl.”
“Boss, you know I’m on your side and all, but this time you need to stop with the self-sabotage and open your eyes to what’s right in front of you.”
“She’s made her choice.”
“No, you forced her hand,” Axe said. “I’ve never seen you this screwed up over a woman.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
His mechanic shook his head and clapped a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “When you’re ready to pull your head outta your ass, you’ll see things clearly. Come on. I’ll get you another beer.”