I initially thought Bishop was bullshitting me about the Raiders watching out for their own. Frankly, I didn’t want anything they could offer me unless it came in the form of justice for Gavin. But Bishop was constantly surprising me, and I learned very quickly that he was truly a man of his word. Over the next week, he called or texted me every day. At first, it was just to ask how I was and if I needed anything. Then we started talking on the phone for an hour or two a night. We never really discussed anything of substance because in the end, we both had too much to hide. Most of the time, we talked about movies we had enjoyed, or the music we liked to listen to. Sometimes there were stories from our childhood—stories that didn’t reveal too much of who we really were. We seemed to spend a lot of the time laughing, which was something I desperately needed.

Regardless of the subject matter, I started to look forward to our calls more than I should have. When I tried telling myself it was for the case I was building on my own, I knew I was the one doing the bullshitting. Although it went against every fiber of my being, I enjoyed talking with Bishop. He was so much more than the guy I had originally thought he was. He was so much more than a lot of the men I had dated in the past, although I didn’t like admitting that to myself.

After two weeks of texts, phone calls, and two dinners, I was growing antsy for more MC information. More than anything, I was intrigued about what he had told me at the bar about the club going legitimate. I couldn’t imagine how a deal with a drug cartel fit into that picture, but I knew I had to find out. I had even more time at work to stew about it because Peterson kept me chained to a desk. Each time I broached the subject of going back out in the field, he would shake his head sadly. “Not until you get your head on straight, Vargas.”

A month after Gavin’s death found me in totally uncharted territory as I made my way into the gym run by the Raiders. We had just finished dinner out together on Tuesday when Bishop asked, “Remember how you said you wanted to see me box sometime?”

My mind immediately went back to the night I’d met him and one of our first conversations. “Yeah. I sure do.”

“Well, I have a fight scheduled on Saturday night, if you’d like to come.”

Considering where Bishop would be boxing, I figured it might be a great way to get some more information on the club. I also couldn’t ignore the part of me that wanted to spend as much time as I could with Bishop before our time together came to an end. “Sure. I’d love to.”

Bishop gave me his signature cocky grin. “Awesome.”

Tonight was about trying to piece together the truth about the Raiders, whether it was good or bad. At least that was what I told myself. When I got to the door, I found a hulking man guarding it. I couldn’t help being reminded of the first time I had gone to the Raiders’ compound. Before I could tell him who I was, he asked, “You Samantha?”

“Yeah. I am.”

He grinned. “B’s just inside.”

“Thanks.”

After he held the door open for me, I ducked inside. The hallway was relatively quiet, with only a few men milling around. Down the hallway past the double doors, I could hear the roar of the growing crowd.

Unsure of what to do or where to go, I called out tentatively, “Bishop?”

Within seconds, he popped out of one of the rooms. At the sight of me, his face lit up. “Hey, Sam.” He waved me over, and I hurried down the hallway.

“I’m so glad you came,” he said as he gave me a friendly hug. Although the physical contact was brief, I couldn’t ignore the solid way his arms felt around me. His embrace sparked a desire of intimate longing and a feeling of comfort. I wasn’t used to having a man make me feel that way with just the slightest touch. It was completely unnerving.

I smiled at him when I pulled away. “Me, too.” Glancing around the room, I saw we weren’t alone. Another man stood by the massage table, reading over a notebook. I could only imagine that it included gambling figures, which made me question Bishop’s claim of the Raiders going legitimate. I recognized the man as Boone Michaels, the club treasurer, from his file. He glanced up and gave me a quick wave.

For a moment, all I could do was stare at Bishop. He had on the typical shorts that boxers wore. Of course, it wasn’t the shorts that had me mesmerized. It was the first time I had seen him shirtless, so I couldn’t help staring at all the intricately designed tattoos on his broad chest and muscular arms.

When I met Bishop’s gaze, there was an impish gleam in his eyes. “Were you just checking me out?”

Knowing he wanted to get a rise out of me, I casually replied, “Maybe. You’re on display, so I might as well enjoy the view.”

Bishop threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Oh man, I love when you’re sassy with me.”

“And I love being sassy with you.” And it was the truth. I always had fun bantering with him.

As sexual tension crackled in the air between us, I decided I’d better change the subject. “Will your brothers be there tonight?”

While Bishop appeared surprised by my question, he quickly recovered. “Some of the guys from the club might be, but Deacon and Rev are busy tonight.”

“I see.” Some of the hope I had on gathering information on the case faded.

A tall, dark-haired man stuck his head in the door. “It’s time, B.”

“Thanks, Vinnie. Do me a favor and walk Samantha out.”

“Sure.”

Bishop winked at me. “Make sure she gets one of the best seats in the house to see me win.”

Vinnie nodded. “Will do.”

I stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do. “I guess I shouldn’t say break a leg or something like that.”

With a laugh, Bishop said, “I think ‘good luck’ would be fine. If I needed it.”

I shook my head and smiled. “You’re pretty cocky, aren’t you?”

“Just sure of myself and my abilities.”

Vinnie coughed behind us, and I knew it was time to go. Acting on an impulse, I leaned in and kissed Bishop’s cheek. When I pulled back, he stared at me in surprise. “For luck.”

A genuine smile appeared on his face. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

I then turned and followed Vinnie down the hallway. With the fight about to start, the crowd had gotten even louder. When we entered the gym, the roar was deafening. For a relatively small gym, there was a huge gathering of people. They filled the stands on both sides of the ring.

Vinnie led me down front to where I felt as if I was practically in the ring. Years ago, I’d gone to a fight once with my dad. Although the arena in Miami was ten times the size of this gym, we hadn’t had seats anywhere near as good as where I now sat.

The music pumping over the loudspeakers ceased, and a wiry-looking man entered the ring with a microphone. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to tonight’s fight, between Alex Fuentes and Bishop Malloy.”

When the announcer called Bishop’s name, the crowd erupted in cheers and catcalls. He came into the gym with a beaming smile. He was obviously a crowd favorite. I noticed that several young boys jumped in front of his path with autograph books in their hands. Bishop not only graciously signed them but took the time to talk to each boy. It warmed my heart seeing his compassionate and caring side and added to my growing sense of awareness that he was so much more than just an outlaw biker.

Bishop and his opponent entered the ring and went to their opposite corners. Boone appeared to be giving Bishop a pep talk as he massaged his shoulders. Bishop would nod from time to time.

The moment the match started, I couldn’t take my eyes off Bishop. He really was a force to be reckoned with. While some women might’ve ducked their heads at the punches and jabs, I was used to both seeing them and delivering them in my line of work.

In the eighth round, Bishop delivered a punch to the side of Alex’s head that sent him reeling back. He collapsed onto the mat. While the ref smacked the floor of the ring, Alex struggled to get up, but he couldn’t. The ref grabbed Bishop’s arm and raised it over his head, which sent me and the crowd onto our feet.

Bishop didn’t stay too long in the ring to enjoy his victory. Instead, he ducked under the ropes and came bounding over to me. Even though he was a sweaty mess, I happily dove into his arms. “Congratulations!”

Instead of replying, he just gave me a cocky grin that shot desire straight through me.

I grinned back at him. “What? You’re not going to say I told you so?”

“No need to rub it in.”

I gave him a playful smack on the arm. As we started out of the gym to the back rooms, Bishop draped a sweaty arm across my shoulder. “Did ya like it?”

I bobbed my head enthusiastically. “Although I probably shouldn’t like guys beating each other up, I loved it.”

Bishop laughed. “I’m glad to hear it. Of course, I don’t want you to get used to it.”

“Oh?”

“I’m only fighting now for the money for my bike shop. I would have quit a long time ago if it wasn’t for the money.”

My chest tightened a bit. “From the gambling?”

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

Lowering his voice, Bishop said, “We’re working on going legit. It isn’t an overnight process. It’s going to take time in some areas.” When I didn’t immediately respond, Bishop took my hand and squeezed it. “I need you to believe me, Sam. You have my word that I’m telling the truth about this.”

Since I desperately wanted to believe him, I nodded. I knew I would need to dig deeper to see just what areas had been legitimized if I was going to make a case for the Raiders’ innocence.

“We okay?” Bishop asked.

I smiled reassuringly at him. “Yeah. We’re fine.”

When we entered the training room where we’d been before, Boone took a towel and started wiping the sweat from Bishop’s chest and arms. I had to fight the urge to snatch the towel away from him and do it myself.

“You really nailed that one tonight, B. No stitches needed, no busted lip.” He winked at Bishop. “Nothing that will keep the ladies away.”

“I’m not worried about any of that.”

Boone glanced in my direction. “Yeah, I guess you don’t have to worry about that, since she looks at you like she wouldn’t care one way or the other if your face was busted up. Kinda a lovey-dovey look like you’ve been giving her.”

I could have sworn Bishop’s cheeks reddened a little. “It ain’t like that with Sam,” he quickly protested. “How about working on this shoulder?” Bishop asked as he plopped down on the massage table.

Boone took the hint and shut his mouth. As he focused his energy on massaging Bishop’s shoulder, the silence in the room was broken by Boone’s phone ringing. When he glanced down at it, he grimaced. “Shit. It’s Annie.”

With a grin, Bishop said, “You better take it, or your ass will be in hot water.”

“Shut up,” Boone grumbled before he ducked outside into the hallway.

After Bishop rolled his shoulder, he winced in pain.

“Want me to do it?” I asked.

Bishop’s eyes flared at my suggestion. “Sure. If you don’t mind.”

“It’s the least I can do for the man of the hour,” I teased as I walked over to the massage table.

My fingers tingled when they connected with Bishop’s warm flesh. Working my hands, I kneaded his taut muscles. Bishop groaned and let his head fall back, which caused a tightening between my legs. Simply touching him and giving him relief from the pain was making me hot.

When I glanced at him, he was looking at me through hooded eyes. “That feels amazing.”

“I’m glad.”

He had started to say something when Boone came back into the room. He glanced at the two of us and grinned. “I see I’ve been replaced by a newer and more attractive model.”

Bishop snorted. “Whatever.”

“Listen, I gotta get home. Crisis with the plumbing. You okay?”

“Fine,” Bishop replied.

“See ya later, then. Bye, Samantha.”

“Bye, Boone.”

After he was gone, Bishop and I stood in an awkward silence. “Guess I better get going, too,” I said. The truth was I wanted to stay there with him in that room until we recaptured what we’d had when we were interrupted.

“Let me walk you out,” Bishop said as he hopped down off the table.

“The rough-and-tumble boxer is a gentleman at heart, huh?”

He winked at me before pulling a T-shirt over his head. “We all have our secrets.”

As we started out the door, Bishop nodded at the beefy bouncer.

“Listen, there’s something I wanted to ask you,” he said to me.

“What is it?”

“Next Saturday night we’re having a birthday party for my brother, Rev. Since he’s our president, it’s going to be a pretty big party—one that lasts all weekend. Members are coming in from all over the state. I wondered if you might like to come.”

I drew in a breath as I carefully weighed my next words. This was exactly what I had been hoping for—a chance to be with the full Raiders MC again to see what I could overhear. While I wanted to give a hurried response, I had to temper myself. I knew I couldn’t look overeager, which in turn could make me look suspicious.

Misreading my hesitation, Bishop said, “Fuck, I’m sorry. That was a real stupid thing of me to do.”

“Excuse me?”

“After what happened to Marley, I guess the last thing you want is to be around a group of bikers.”

Once again, I found myself speechless, but this time it was over Bishop’s thoughtfulness. Then I felt like a complete bitch by using it to my advantage. “I would be lying if I said your offer didn’t surprise me . . . and unnerve me a little. But at the same time, I think it might be good for me to be around the club again.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, you say you guys are going legit, so I guess I can’t help giving you a second chance, right?”

Bishop grunted. “Yeah, just remember you don’t know shit about any of that. Got it?”

“I promise.”

“So can I pick you up at seven?”

Just as I was about to agree, an image of my house flashed before my eyes. I quickly clamped my mouth shut. There was no way in hell I could let Bishop see where I was living. None of it matched the Samantha Vargas he knew. “Why don’t I meet you there?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, since I flaked out a few days after Marley’s death, I’ve been working late to make up the time and get the boss off my ass,” I replied. My mind felt as if it were treading water in the deep end to keep up with all the lies I was spewing.

“Oh, okay, then yeah, just come here.” Bishop cleared his throat. “Guess if I picked you up, it would seem like a date, huh?”

Shaking my head, I stared down at my shoes. I realized I didn’t have to worry about Bishop suspecting anything about me and the club. Instead, his worry came in the form of concern that we were overstepping some sacred bounds because of Gavin. He would have given any FBI profiler a run for the money with his being so honorable and considerate. The fact that he had a conscience wasn’t something I had ever bet on, and in turn, it made things even more difficult. I needed him to be a Neanderthal who didn’t give a shit about what Marley would have felt about him making a move on me.

“I guess it could be seen that way,” I said.

“I, uh, well, I just didn’t want you to think I was some bastard for hitting on you so soon after Marley died.”

I knew I had to choose my next words carefully—I could either drive him away or reel him in. “Regardless of what’s in your head, any woman would be flattered to be asked on a date by you.”

“Is that right?” he questioned.

“Yeah, it is.”

Bishop coughed. “That’s good to know.”

“I’m glad I could help,” I said. And it was the truth. I did want Bishop to see he was more than he thought he was.

“So I’ll see you Saturday night, then.”

“See you then.”