Jen

My mind tried to process what had happened. My body needed no help. It was deliciously satisfied. I was tired but content in Benz’s arms. Benz. That was really all I knew. He was a Dark Saint. He was tough, he was protective of me, he had a great apartment, and he had me.

Twice.

I’d gone way beyond getting information from The Dark Saints in the last hour. I’d dove into the deep end and had no plan for getting out.

Lying in Benz’s arms gave me a false sense of security, or maybe I just felt out of time. Like what had just happened between us couldn’t have been real. Benz couldn’t be real.

But he was. For a moment I looked at him, just looked. His arms were covered in tats, over cords of muscle and vein. His chest was rock hard and trailed into abs that looked more like those of a Greek God than biker. I thought I’d noticed everything about him in his leather. I was wrong. We were wrapped up in each other and I was seeing more.

I needed to stop. The things I wanted to do to him were carnal for sure. I wanted to kiss every inch of his body.

How had I become so lost in this fantasy? Lost in him. The only reason I was here in this town was that I wanted to put him or at least his club out of business.

I was a liar.

I started to have a sick feeling in my stomach.

Benz may be the outlaw, but I felt like the criminal. What happened between us wasn’t an act on my part, it was intense, and unlike anything that I’d ever done.

But what was I? I was fake.

Benz squeezed me and planted a kiss on my forehead. I heard his phone buzz.

“I gotta take this babe.” Benz sat up and swung his legs over the bed. It was a moment of space between us that I needed.

I puzzle out what to do next. Who was this person that had lost complete control?

I combed through my hair with my fingers. Benz padded into his kitchen.

“Yep, the warehouse on pier three. What, nine p.m. early enough? Okay. They think New Jack Swing eh? Not playing.” He was talking low. He didn’t want me to hear. But the phrase New Jack Swing caught my ear. I knew that was morphine and heroin. He was arranging a drug deal. Right now. Right next to me.

And I remembered. I remembered who I was and why I was here.

I stayed still in bed. I pretended some more so I could hear. He said nine, he said warehouse on pier three. I committed it to memory.

“I’ll be sure no one fucks it up. Yep. I understand.”

Benz was getting the details of a deal for his MC.

I let it sink in. I let what my Grandma always told me come back.

This man may have no idea what happened to my Daddy, but his club did.

And his club was arranging a drug deal. That would be it. That would be how I put some of them away.

I hardened myself.

What had just happened with Benz was spectacular, but it was physical. I needed to remember that and put up a wall between my body and my mind.

My heart was set on something else. My heart was set on what my Grandma would want me to do and how my Daddy had died.

Benz came back to the bed. I was going to keep lying. I was going to make Benz believe that I was brainlessly into him.

I didn’t need some long game to catch The Saints. They were as dirty as Grandma said. It was almost too easy! I was going to be at pier nine with the cops for this drug deal. My boss, Paul Laraby, had sent me to make copies in Port Azrael, but I was going to aid in a major bust. I was excited at the prospect.

“Everything okay?” I asked him the question even while I committed to memory all the details I’d heard on his end of the conversation.

What did I know? Benz was the lookout for a drug deal? That was what it sounded like. I had a pang of concern that I was about to get this man arrested.

It was ugly what I was doing. I knew that. I’d let myself enjoy him, and now I was going to burn him. It was going to be a mess. But my life after Daddy died was a mess. I reminded myself of all the worst parts.

I spent my life knowing that the club was connected to the worst thing that ever happened to me. And I was here with a chance to do some damage to it.

Benz would probably get busted, but I told myself I didn’t care. It would serve him right. He was clearly a criminal.

That of course, was another lie. To myself.

I did care. I cared more about one Dark Saint than I could have predicted when I’d set my plan into motion in Port Azrael.

But one night couldn’t change my entire life. I wouldn’t let it.

I had work to do before nine tomorrow night.

Benz came back to bed.

“I missed you,” I said and put a sweet librarian smile on my face.

“Yep, just club stuff.”

“What do you do for the club, The Dark Saints?”

“Anything they ask.”

“Which is what usually?”

“Why the interest?”

“Well, I just realized I don’t really know anything about you other than, uh, this.” I had my head on his shoulder, and I was pumping him for information. I was the good detective, even if I had no idea what that actually meant.

Each question I asked took me further from the connection we shared and back to my mission to find out about The Saints. But I stayed molded to him, body to body. I had gotten in. It may have cost me more than I planned but I had done it. Now I had to go all the way.

“Well, I started out as probie changing the oil in the shop.”

“Where were your parents?”

“Oh, Mom was a drug addict. She OD’ed when I was little.”

“Jesus, that’s awful.” I imagined what he must have looked like as a little boy. No! No sympathy for the devil. Not that he was the devil.

“It was a long time ago though, it’s okay. ‘Just say no’; that’s not a problem for me after what I saw her do. Whiskey is my only drug. And surprisingly I’m addicted to librarians. Who knew?”

“Where’s was your Dad? Was he a Dark Saint?”

“My Dad wanted to be a Dark Saint.”

“What do you mean?”

“He thought he was one, tried to get in, but no, never. Saints wouldn’t take that asshole.”

“What does he do?”

“Nothing. He died trying to rob a bank. I’ve got a real pedigree. Let’s talk about something else. Or not at all.”

Benz kissed my forehead and I felt his hands move down my spine.

But it was like I’d left my body. What had he just said about his father? Died trying to rob a bank? Jesus Christ.

Had I just slept with the son of the man who’d killed my Daddy?

Had I gone from liar to much worse in the space of one sentence? What kind of person does that? This was Kenny Bass’s son? I felt bile rise in my throat. I was sleeping with the enemy. I squeezed my eyes shut and the last few hours replayed in rapid succession in my head.

It was my own fault. Shitty police work on my part. I lacked a critical piece of information about Benz, his last fucking name.

I was no better than the idiot college girls in the bars.

I didn’t know his last name. I didn’t know if Kenny Bass had any kids when he died. I should have, but I didn’t know a damn thing. I’d barreled blindly ahead with my plans.

I could have stopped asking questions right then. I could have run. None of this was going the way I’d thought it would. If I’d missed this, it was very fucking likely I’d miss something else. I was a rookie in every sense of the word and I was in over my head.

Except. Except…

I had one more question to ask. I had to. At this point, it was like ripping off a bandage.

I struggled to keep my voice light. I didn’t want him to know that I was in turmoil inside. I was trying to pretend we were just talking after sex, that it was normal. Even though every answer made my stomach turn over in my body.

“I just realized I have no idea if Benz is your first name or last name?” I put my lips to his chest. I was playing the part now more than ever.

I knew what he was going to say before it came out of his mouth.

“Ha, well Benz is the name the club gave me. It was the first car I successfully fixed for the MC on my own. My actual name is Benjamin Bass. Sometimes they call me BB, which I hate.”

“Ah, Ben and Jen.” That sounded idiotic. I didn’t trust myself to say anything else. I needed to get out of there. I needed to get away as soon as I could, before my inner hysteria spilled out.

Benjamin Bass. Kenny Bass’s son. I’d just slept with Kenny Bass’s son.

“What’s wrong, Jen?” he said, and I knew I’d begun to pull away from him, no matter how much I was trying to maintain a façade. I wasn’t that good. I didn’t have ice in my veins. I needed that; maybe experienced cops had that? I had plunged into something and I needed out. Now.

“Um, nothing. But, this was crazy. I think I need to get back to my place. I have an early work day tomorrow and I didn’t expect all this.”

“Oh, I see.”

I sat up and looked around. Where the fucking hell were my clothes?

They were everywhere.

“How about I give you a t-shirt? And buy you a new dress before I take you out again.”

I laughed. It sounded strange and strangled.

“Yeah, I guess my outfit is a disaster. Thank you.”

Benz got up and I found my purse. He threw a white t-shirt in my direction. It came to my knees. Jesus, I need out of this mess. I was moving faster and faster.

“I’ll walk you your car.”

“No, no. I can handle it.”

“I insist, no woman of mine is walking back to her car after…”

“Woman of yours? Ha. Whoa. Look, I have to go.” And I literally bolted out of his apartment. I heard him call my name. I took the stairs two at a time. My capacity for lying had reached its limit. My cover, such as it was, was hanging by a thread. My only hope of making a rational decision at this point was getting away.

I found my car and started it as fast as I could.

I had no idea what Benz thought of my speedy escape. I hoped he just thought I’d gotten shy. Or even had second thoughts. I’m sure women did not run out on him.

I had no idea what it said about me that I’d slept with him.

I did have a big idea that I felt more than I was supposed to for the son of the man who had killed my father.

I drove back to my hotel in a blur.

I had what I wanted. A way to bust some Dark Saints.

But I’d never felt so confused in my entire life.