CHAPTER ELEVEN
Stepping into her office, Stella breathed a little easier. Until she realized Bishop lounged at her desk. The man leaned back in her chair, his boots propped on the desk, an open file in his hands. Her adrenaline spiked just before the blush crept over her face. “What the hell are you doing here?”
When Bishop turned his grey eyes to her, she suppressed a shudder. His gaze was hot and angry, sending chilly tingles over her skin. Even his lips didn't quirk in their usual, amused smirk. “Hello, Miss Holmes.”
On auto pilot, Stella turned to her door and locked it, before shutting the privacy blinds. She didn't want rumors to run rampant, despite the fact one of the local rubes had to let the biker in. With her back turned to him, she tried to calm herself. Their dalliance last night was over. It was back to business, now. A tinge of disappointment peppered over her thoughts, but she shoved it aside. Turning back to Bishop, the woman steeled herself for intimidation.
That's when she realized a curvaceous redhead perched on the edge of her desk. A fire lit in Stella's gut as she eyed the woman suspiciously. The redhead was gorgeous with deep red ringlets and warm brown eyes. Her body seemed to be inspired by an hourglass. A small flit of self-consciousness edged into Stella's thoughts.
“Miss Holmes, this is Ms. Delilah Sampson. She wants to make a statement.” Bishop's voice floated through the office, clear and cold.
Stella glanced to Bishop, before turning her gaze back to the redhead, “What about?”
“First, I want protection.” The woman held up one long finger, tipped in a manicured nail. She smacked her gum loudly and sat a little straighter as she spoke, “This is high-risk shit, and I don't wanna end up in a ditch with my throat slit.”
“All right. You'll be taken to a separate room to ensure your statement is given willingly and isn't a result of coercion,” Stella informed, her eyes swinging from Delilah to Bishop. Her gaze hardened as she continued to speak to the potential witness, “However, Mr. Bishop cannot stay in my office.”
“I'm not going anywhere.” His own stare hardened, his lips fixed into a deep scowl. Electricity cracked between Stella and Bishop, neither willing to budge in their claims.
“Well, considering I'm the only one available to question Ms. Sampso‒”
A hesitant knock cracked against her door. Stella's stomach flipped unhappily as the doorknob rattled. She already knew who it was before the voice floated through the door, “Stella? I'm sorry for what I said. It was out of line.”
The woman watched as Bishop's scowl slowly turned to a smug smile. His head listed to the side as if to say “Only one, really?” Her blush bit savagely at her cheeks as she spun on her heel. Unlocking the door, Stella opened it a crack, “Do you have time to take a witness statement?”
“Yes.” Stan pulled back a little, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Why?”
“One second,” Stella answered, closing the door. She motioned the redhead toward the door. After a quick glance to Bishop, who gave her one nod, Delilah edged off the desk and swayed to Stella. The agent cracked the door open again, ushering the redhead through the marginal space. “This is Miss Delilah Sampson. She says she has information on the cocaine distribution. Could you question her for me?”
The man's gaze flicked to the woman as she shyly scuttled forward at Stella's prompting. His concerned expression switched back to his partner, “Sure, but is something wrong, Stella?”
“Thanks, Stan. You're a lifesaver!” With that, Stella firmly shut the door. On the other side, Stan muttered something under his breath. However, once Delilah spoke up, he turned into sugar and molasses. Stella rolled her eyes, but counted to six when she heard their footsteps echo down the corridor. By her count, they would be rounding the corner.
She breathed a sigh of relief, her stiff shoulders relaxing with Stan gone. Turning back to her desk, she realized the tension in the room had easily quadrupled. Bishop still sat at her desk, his lips in a resting frown and eyebrow cocked. All teasing amusement seemed long gone from his gaze.
Instant irritation burst out of Stella, “Where'd you get this fake witness?”
“Why do you think she's fake?”
“She shows up right after we take your men into custody?” Stella raised her eyebrows and snorted. Bishop's gaze darkened. Stella didn't notice her companion's expression. “Yeah, unlikely.”
“Howler and Crow picked her up on their trip.” Bishop languidly stood from the chair. Something inside his head wanted to be closer to the agent, despite his irritation with her. Stella's body shuddered, imagining how his muscles shifted. The woman swallowed her hormones as Bishop neared. “She has some handy information about your crack pushers.”
Stella pressed her hands to her hips, her lips set into a firm frown. “And I'm just supposed to believe her?”
Bishop stopped right in front of her and leaned forward. He restrained from leaning too far, into her personal bubble. The man didn't want the wrong message to transpire. Her hormones quivered as his musk wrapped around her. “She's a witness, Miss Holmes.”
Stella covered up her pleasurable reactions with a hard glare. “How do I know she's not lying?”
Bishop gave a nonchalant shrug, but didn't lean away. Something in his eyes sparked with challenge, “That's your job. Not mine.”
“What's this really about, Bishop?” The look he gave her stirred the hormones deep within her core. At the same time, Stella felt an itch of indignity as he tested her.
“What do you mean?” Bishop's head listed to the side, his eyebrows cocked with mock surprise. Deep in his thoughts, he couldn't help but feel drawn to Stella. The urge to touch her, kiss her, make her moan, and writhe saturated his mind. The only thing suppressing his desires was his immense annoyance at her for arresting his men with such flimsy evidence.
“You sneak into my office, with a woman who allegedly has information I need,” hissed Stella. Her eyes narrowed while her heart fluttered with heat. The close proximity to the man coupled with memories from last night was making her blood boil with shameful excitement. She covered up her hormonal frenzy with thick skepticism. “And you expect me to think you have no motive.”
“I didn't sneak. I walked right in.” Bishop grinned, broadly. He knew that mere fact would fluff Stella's proverbial feathers.
Stella snorted, rolling her eyes, “Obviously. Security here is lacking.”
“Or they're better judges of character than you.”
“There was cocaine on their motorcycles, Bishop,” Stella snapped, becoming fed up with his constant jabs. She tossed her hands in the air with an exasperated huff, “What did you expect me to do?”
“Use that brain of yours and realize it was planted,” retorted Bishop. Watching Stella slowly become so agitated, so unguarded, teased at something inside of him. His annoyance at her subsided, replaced with the prickly heat of desire
“There's no proof of sabotage, and they still possessed it, Bishop,” the woman sighed, vaguely wondering how Stan was getting on with Delilah. “Logically, they knew they had it.”
Bishop narrowed his eyes, as if the answer wasn't good enough for him. Stella braced herself for his next comment. Crossing his arms, the biker president cocked an eyebrow, “And where is the crack now?”
The federal agent pursed her lips, seeing where the man was going with this inquiry. “The evidence locker.”
“Then Grand River PD is now in possession of cocaine,” the man replied, a smirk twitching at his lips. He held out an open hand to her, fingers wiggling, “Got some handcuffs I can borrow?”
The image of him cuffing her brought a hot thrill to Stella's thoughts. Restrained beneath his skilled hands and talented tongue. Her lower tummy began to clench with delight. She shook her head and forced her body to take a step away from the man.
“How did you even get a warrant for that? Pretty weak reason.” Bishop took a step closer, grinning as he peered into her face. The heat on Stella's cheeks, the slight red tinge, played havoc with his hormones. Mentally, he painted her cheeks a darker shade of red and heard her breathy moans in his ears. His pants tightened from the thought of getting Stella on her back.
“We've been working on the warrant for a while,” admitted Stella. The heat mounting in Bishop's gaze was getting to her. She averted her gaze, lips pursed tightly. “We got an anonymous tip about the cocaine.”
“Convenient, like my witness.” Bishop's hand caught Stella beneath the chin. He forced her gaze up to his. A rush of hormones exploded in Stella's thoughts. A tingling blush bled over her cheeks. The man's voice dropped to a murmur as he teasingly leaned forward. Despite the sarcasm in his voice, his tone was flirty and soft, “That doesn't sound suspicious at all.”
“Shove it, Bishop,” grumbled Stella, averting her gaze but unable to turn her face away.
A broad smirk sliced across Bishop's face. He couldn't help himself. Pheromones in the air sizzled as he muttered, “Where you want it?”
The woman narrowed her eyes, her breath catching in her throat. Her body tensed, her fingers itched, and her temperature climbed. She wanted nothing more than to grab Bishop by his collar and kiss him, pulling him flush against her and let him take the wheel. However, they were at the PD. She couldn't just throw professionalism out the window for the sake of the hormones stirring up tingles inside her.
Bishop didn't wait for Stella's reaction. The blush on her face and the glazed look of desire indicated enough. His palm grazed up her jawline, fingers curving around the back of her head. He swooped down, closed his eyes, and caught her lips.
Almost instantly, heat exploded inside them both. The woman's eyes fluttered closed, all propriety drowned out by pleasure. Bishop's free hand slid to Stella's back, migrating south to grope her lusciously round ass. A groan of pleasure left her lips. Stella's arms wrapped around his neck, electrified desire skipping along all her nerves. She moaned gently against the biker's mouth as he deepened the kiss. All Bishop could think of was the woman under his hands and how her body shifted so enticingly against him.
Breaking the kiss momentarily, Bishop breathed against Stella's lips, “Quiet, don't want your co-workers to hear.”
“Shut up,” Stella swallowed, narrowing her eyes. The man's warning dampened her passion slightly. They did have to be careful and, more importantly, silent. Regardless, Stella's hand threaded through the back of his hair and tugged the biker down for another kiss.
Her legs came up, wrapping around his waist. Warmth flooded her lower belly as his rock-hard torso pressed against her thighs. Bishop grunted and readjusted his hold on the woman, his other hand drifting southward to grasp her ass. His cock throbbed through his jeans, sensing an eager and hot pussy just a few clothing layers away. Bishop groaned lowly against the woman's mouth as he made his way to the desk.
Stella gasped as he dropped her roughly to the surface. The pain arched up along her ass with pleasurable tinges. Bishop broke the kiss and leered down at the woman, her puffy red lips and flushed face driving his senses wild. Stella sighed as their intimate affection broke, but returned the biker's heated stares through her lashes.
Suddenly, the man grabbed her by the hips and flipped her over, so her breasts pressed against the desk. He jerked her skirt upward, his hands stroking over her ass, over the tights she wore. Bishop's hand jerked, his palm landing with a rough slap. Stella gasped, swallowing down a moan as she clapped a hand over her mouth. She could hear Bishop's grin as he chuckled.
The man's amusement only doubled when his fingers registered something. Leaning over the federal agent, the biker purred, “Why, Agent Holmes, I didn't know you were also a commando.”
Stella's cheeks burned with annoyed heat. She had totally forgotten; in her rush to get to work, she had opted out of panties today. She never would have imagined this scenario, though.
“That makes this easier,” Bishop's amusement seemed to mount with every word. Stella waited for his joking jab at her naughtiness, for another spank to rain on her ass. Instead, the sound of thin rayon ripping whispered through the air. She gasped as a chill kissed her swollen sex. It took Stella a moment to realize Bishop had hooked his finger into her stockings, tearing a convenient hole right along her slit.
Her realization shattered from distraction as the hiss of a zipper caught her ears. Within seconds, something thick and fleshy and hot pressed against her lower lips. Stella swallowed a delighted sigh as Bishop positioned his cock at her entrance.
The man marveled at how wet the woman already was, but he wasted no time on teasing. They were in her office, in the middle of the police department. This would have to be quick and, as much as they could manage, silent.
His cock plunged into her wet, hot core. Stella quivered, back arching and moan muffed against her palm. The man's thickness and heat teased at pleasure-swollen nerves and sent enjoyable, biting heat through her blood. Bishop swallowed his own moans as every one of Stella's movements intensified his own pleasure. The thought of sneakily fucking the woman, underneath the noses of her co-workers, brought a lick of added pleasure to his throat.
Bishop pumped in and out, fast and hard. Stella moved against his rhythm, driving him deeper into her. She whimpered and moaned under her palm, her free hand digging into her desk. At the back of her mind, the threat of being found out fueled the sharpness of her pleasure. Her toes curled in her heels, her muscles tensed, her intimate parts throbbed around the erection. Bishop's hands held her hips, pulling Stella back firmly against him. He swallowed his own moans, her core rippled tightly around his member.
The woman's movements became more desperate, her muted gasps more breathless, as heat crested inside her. Every muscle inside her tightened, her release fast approaching. The thought of Bishop coming, his liquid heat grazing her inner nerves, made her body clench even tighter.
A rhythmic knock on the door punctured the moment.
Shock rattled through Stella, her eyes flying open. Adrenaline slammed through her as she pushed herself into a standing position. Bishop didn't need instruction. He immediately slid out and stepped away, adjusting himself and zipping up his pants. As soon as he moved away, Stella smoothed her skirt down and turned to face the door. Bishop plopped down into one of the visitor's chairs, laying his ankle over top his knee.
Just before their visitor entered, the woman's gaze darted toward Bishop. He glanced up at her, eyebrow cocked and smug smirk on his lips. Heat tickled at Stella's core as she tore her gaze away just as Stan entered.
Immediately, her partner's eyes flicked from the lounging biker to Stella. His eyebrows ticked upward suspiciously. Stella willed the flush in her cheeks to drain.
“What's he doing here?” Stan's lips screwed into a scowl as he closed the door behind himself. In his hand, he held sheaves of paper. Delilah was nowhere to be seen.
Before Stella could answer, Bishop butted in, “I wanted to make sure Ms. Sampson would be safe.”
“Safer than with you, I bet,” muttered Stan under his breath. Louder, he stated, “What's it matter to you, Bishop?”
“Agent Jackson,” Stella warned. She motioned to the seated biker with a graceful wave of her arm. “Mr. Bishop brought Ms. Sampson in.”
Stan's stiff shoulders fell, his lips pressing into a thin line. The knowledge he couldn't win in this situation settled atop him. He exuded the air of a petulant boy as he turned his gaze to Bishop. Stan struggled to retain his professional air. “Ms. Sampson will be fine. If her statement pans out, we can put her in witness protection until the investigation, arrests, and trial conclude.”
“What if whoever is charged isn't found guilty?” Bishop leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing at Stan. A smug satisfaction filled the biker as he noticed the man's dark bruise. No amount of egotistical delight could calm his worry that Delilah would find herself dead in a ditch or forced into being a drug mule. The thought sent a sick itch crawling over his skin.
“We'll keep her anonymous,” Stan replied, bitterness evident in his voice. Done with the conversation, the agent crossed the room and handed the papers to Stella. When the woman accepted the sheaf, Stan caught her by her wrist before pulling away. He leaned close, making Stella's stomach clench with concern. In hushed tones, he whispered, “I hope you know what you're doing, agent.”
Stan stood back and stared down at Stella. The woman's eyebrows furrowed, curiosity whipping through her head. She didn't have a chance to ask for clarity. The man turned on his heel and walked briskly from her office.
Stella stared after her partner, curiosity bubbling in her brain, as the door closed behind him. The creak of Bishop's chair drew Stella's gaze from the open entryway. The biker hauled himself out of the chair, an easy smile on his lips. The woman's heart fluttered under the warm expression in his eyes. “I should get going, too. Let you get some work done, Miss Holmes.”
“What happened to Agent Holmes?” Stella's lips pursed unhappily as she hid her disappointment behind annoyance. Of course, the biker couldn't stay. She was hours away from her shift's end, and it would be highly suspicious if Bishop was locked in her office with her all day. Those not-entirely-false rumors would fly, and that's something she didn't want.
Bishop closed the distance between them with one step. His large hands curled around her elbows as he leaned over her. His lips brushed against her ear, coaxing Stella's heart to jump to her throat. As the woman tried to reign in her swooning hormones, the man murmured into her ear, “What happened to your panties, Stella?”
He hiked up her skirt with one hand, his other trailing gently over her lower lips. Stella gasped, leaning back against her desk as her body quivered in anticipation. His finger cleaved through the hole in her stockings, his warm digit caressing her swollen lips. Stella hugged onto the papers Stan handed to her as if they were her only anchor to reality. Hormones flitted through her thoughts, heat rising in her veins. Her every reaction goaded the biker on, tempting him to quickly finger her.
Suddenly, Bishop pulled away, fingers and all. He let out a breathy chuckle and shook his head. Stella swallowed down a groan of disappointment and watched him hungrily. His grey eyes flickered to her face, a rueful grin on his lips. “I should go. We both have investigations to get back to.”
The woman numbly nodded, silently watching the man retreat out of her office. His fast footsteps and sudden excuse to leave struck Stella as odd. It was as if he didn't trust himself around her. Or, perhaps, he didn't trust her. The thought soured in her stomach.
When her door shut behind Bishop, Stella managed to make her way to her office chair. Sinking down low, the woman brought the papers to her face, shielding her blush-tinted cheeks from the world.
How could Arthur Bishop hold so much sway over her body? How could he light her nerves afire with a simple grin? The obvious answer roiled in her stomach, unhappy and daunting. Stella took a deep breath and slapped the papers to her desk. Firm resolution built up in her thoughts. Whatever chemistry simmered between herself and the Seven Tribesmen president would have to stop. That was final.
With detachment firmly in mind, Stella hunched over the papers. She began to read Delilah Sampson's account when her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket. Without tearing her gaze from the typeset, Stella fished her cellphone out of her pocket. When she glanced at the phone, it blinked with an unread text message from a number she didn't recognize.
Confusion dotted her brow as she opened the message. Stella's eyes widened after a breath, her eyes flickering over the screen once again.
Come to the Rusty Bear tonite @ 10 Agent Holmes. - Art
It was easy to discern how he had gotten her number. It was on her business card.
Hormonal flames grazed over her nerves as a pleasurable heat jolted down her spine. She placed her cellphone to the side. She wouldn't go. She couldn't. The agent shook her head and forced her eyes back to the witness account. Every so often, however, Stella couldn't stop her gaze from flicking to her cellphone with that message still displayed on its screen.