“That was interesting,” Spence said. “What do you make of it?”

“Gotta be a survivalist camp back there. Those people had something to hide, and they sure as hell didn’t want us to come any closer.”

“Did you see anyone else?” Jessie asked.

“No, but they were around. That woman and boy weren’t up there on their own. They were decoys, sent to . . . discourage us from traveling any farther.”

“And if we’d gone on anyway?” she asked.

“We’d have been stopped. That isn’t a group the three of us could take on our own.”

“Hence the retreat,” Spence added.

Diaz nodded. “It’s enough to know the encampment is there. I’m going to alert Grange, see if he can get us some satellite and infrared intel on that area to determine what and who and how many are in there. Maybe he’ll be able to confirm an encampment.”

“Then what?” Jessie asked.

“Then we’ll know. It may or may not be one affiliated with Crush and his gang, but we can keep an eye on the location. At least it’s a start. We can watch who comes out to this area, see if Crush rides out here again, especially if we get through initiation.”

Jessie’s face went pale at that.

“Something wrong?”

She shook her head. “No.”

She was lying. Something bothered her. He’d have to ask her again later. “Okay, let’s head back to town and see what’s going on.”

A couple of hours later they roared into town and mingled with the other bikers on the main drag. Crush’s gang was already there, most of them hanging out at one of the bars lining the main street. Diaz pulled around and stopped to talk to Crush, who was walking out of the bar just as they drove past.

“Hey, where have you all been today?” Crush asked.

“Great day for a ride, so we decided to bag the festivities and cruise for a while,” Diaz said.

“Oh yeah?” Where’d you go?”

“Up north a bit, rode around toward Beaver Lake.”

Crush nodded. “Pretty up there. Nice ride.”

“Anything going on around here today?”

“Half-naked women in chaps, lots of beer and food, and riding. Same as always,” Crush said with a grin.

Diaz laughed.

“We’re going to a bonfire tonight outside of town. You want to come?”

“Sure.” Diaz knew if they didn’t seem too eager, Crush might be more interested in them. No bike leader wanted hangers-on, but would respect those who were more independent. Diaz’s intent was to get them invited to initiation when the rally was over. Only then would they get closer to the Devil’s Skulls’ inner workings and figure out what, if any, involvement Crush and his gang had in the illegal arms dealings in this part of the country.

And in order to do that, he had to know how to play the game.

“You’re quiet today, Jessie,” Crush said, looking over Diaz’s shoulder.

“Just soaking it all in. Plus, I had a late night last night,” she said, her gaze flitting to Diaz.

Crush’s brows raised, then he grinned. “I see.” He nodded at Diaz, then said, “You are one lucky son of a bitch.”

Diaz looked to Jessie, then back at Crush. “I know.” Too bad it was just a game, that his and Jessie’s “relationship” was only a front for this mission. His stomach tightened remembering what it felt like to hold her in his arms, to touch and taste her. Being preoccupied with the mission today had helped, but thoughts of Jessie were never far from his mind. They still had so much left unfinished.

He’d walked out on her last night. Again. For someone so strong, he sure as hell was a coward where she was concerned. But he had to protect her.

From himself.

They hung out on the streets for a while and at the bar visiting with the other Devil’s Skulls, until dusk shadowed the main drag in filtered sunlight.

“I’m going to gather everyone up,” Crush said, then gave Diaz directions to where the bonfire was going to be. “I’ll see you all there about ten.”

Diaz nodded. Spence left with Stephanie and said he’d meet up with them later. Once they were alone, Diaz and Jessie hopped on their bikes and headed back to the hotel, mainly because Diaz wanted some privacy to report to Grange on what they’d found this afternoon and ask for a satellite feed on that location. They grabbed a bite to eat on the way, then went up to the room. Diaz got on the phone to Grange first thing, filling him in on what they’d found.

“I’ll get right on it and report back to you by morning with intel on the area,” Grange said.

“Great.”

“How’s Jessie doing?”

“Fine.”

“That’s not a very detailed report.”

Considering Jess was standing right next to him in their room, that was all Grange was getting. “All you can have at the moment.”

“Is she competent?”

“Yes.”

“Not getting in the way?”

“Not at all.”

“She’s good, Diaz. Give her a chance.”

“That’s what I’m doing, Grange.”

“Okay, I’ll get back with you in the morning.”

Diaz hung up and turned to Jessie. “He’ll run a satellite feed on the area, see what they find.”

“Good.” Jessie turned away and headed toward the closet, sliding open the door and staring into it.

“Jess, what’s wrong? You’ve been quiet ever since I mentioned initiation.”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“You wanna talk about last night?” He owed her an apology for walking out on her again, or at least some sort of explanation.

“No, I definitely don’t walk to talk about last night.” She grabbed some clothes. “I’m going to change before the bonfire.” She slid into the bathroom and shut the door.

Something wasn’t right, and Diaz was determined to find out what. Maybe it had to do with what happened between them last night, but he had an idea it was more than that. They hadn’t exchanged more than a few sentences all day, and those had been mainly about the mission. Nothing of a personal nature at all.

Great. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted? To keep their relationship all business? So why was it bothering him?

Can’t have it both ways, dickhead.

After the bonfire tonight, he’d make her talk to him. He needed to know what she was thinking for the good of their mission.

Or at least that’s what he told himself.

NINE

IT WAS THE LAST NIGHT BEFORE INITIATION, THE LAST NIGHT OF THE bike rally. Jessie knew this was her last chance, too. Now or never.

Maybe it should be never—maybe she should give up.

Oh hell no. She wasn’t a quitter, never had been and wasn’t about to start now. Though after last night’s defeat, it was difficult mustering up any kind of enthusiasm to try again with Diaz.

How many times could a girl throw herself at a guy, get rejected, and try again, before she got the message that he didn’t want her?

She stripped and faced the mirror, thinking about last night, remembering the look on his face as he touched her, put his mouth on her.

Okay, so it wasn’t true. He did want her. That much had been quite clear last night. He hadn’t put a stop to their play. They’d both had amazing orgasms. Her pu**y clenched remembering the way he’d taken her over the edge. She closed her eyes, cupped her breasts, sliding her thumbs over her painfully sensitive nipples, wishing it was Diaz standing behind her, stroking her ni**les with his fingers, watching her reaction in the mirror. She could picture his big body behind her, his erection stiff and hot and pumping against her hip as he leaned into her, grasping her ni**les and plucking them, forcing her to watch as he grazed the tiny pebbles until she couldn’t stand it anymore. Then he’d move one hand over her belly, play with the piercing at her navel, but only for a few seconds, because he wouldn’t be able to resist going lower, just as she did now with her hand, sliding into her panties.

Dampness greeted her, the spill of her arousal, hot and wet. She palmed her sex, shivered at the sensation as she teased her clit, then went lower, tucking two fingers into her pussy. She hissed as her walls contracted around the invasion, couldn’t hold back the moan as she began to finger f**k herself, imagining it was Diaz’s oversized fingers inside her.

Here in the bathroom in front of the mirror she’d be able to watch it all, see his fingers disappear inside her as he f**ked her with one hand and rubbed her cl*twith the other.

She wasn’t going to last long, needed this orgasm, a bursting release from the pent-up tension she’d held inside all day.

“Please,” she whispered, rocking her pelvis against her hand, feeling the tight squeeze as orgasm rushed ever closer. “Yes, yes, make me come.”

She felt dizziness as she cl**axed, shoved her fingers all the way inside, imagined Diaz’s dark, encouraging words as she sailed over the edge with a blindsiding orgasm. She whimpered her release, riding it, enjoying it, wishing he were here to do this for her.

Spent, perspiring, she opened her eyes, studied the heated desire in them, and shuddered, palming the bathroom counter.

God, she wanted more from him. So much more. Why couldn’t he see that making love wasn’t going to change anything between them?

She needed him, needed him to make love to her, for more reasons than she could explain. Though she was going to have to come clean, tell him one of those reasons. And it was going to have to be tonight.

She really had to get a decent sex life. One that didn’t involve doing it herself.

After freshening up, she got dressed, fixed her hair and makeup, and sucked in a cleansing breath, preparing for the night ahead. There was a lot to accomplish tonight. When she opened the door, she was stunned to find Diaz leaning against the wall right outside the bathroom, his arms crossed.

He made her mouth water. He had his leather chaps on and a black long-sleeved shirt that stretched tight across his chest. She shuddered a breath.

“Have fun in there?”

Faking nonchalance, she shrugged and brushed past him. “Not as much fun as I would have if you’d been in there with me.”

Clearly he’d heard her, knew what she’d been doing. Good. She hoped he’d get worked up thinking about it, visualizing it. She grabbed her bag and her keys and turned around. Her ni**les hardened at the way he looked at her, his gaze dark, penetrating. She refused to look anywhere but his eyes, knowing his c**k was hard. Moisture dampened her panties.

“Ready?” she asked.

He paused for a few seconds, then gave her a short nod. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

They rode east out of town, using Crush’s directions, following the road signs until they came to an unpaved road to the left with one of the Devil’s Skulls’ helmets slung on top of a fence post. That was their signal to head into the woods. They had to slow down on the gravel road for several miles until they came to a clearing, a two-story farmhouse on a huge patch of land. Out in the pasture everyone was gathered by bales of hay and what seemed like a mile-high pile of wood.

The Skulls were all present, loud and rowdy and seemingly having a great time. There was already a fire blazing, and the smell of meat cooking. They parked and headed over that way until they found Crush, Rex, and a few others. Crush reached into a cooler and tossed them a couple of beers.

“Enjoy the party,” he said. “Tomorrow’s initiation, you know.”

“We know,” Diaz said.

Jessie realized Diaz wouldn’t ask if they were going to be invited. That would be too . . . desperate. But she had a feeling from Crush’s secretive smile that they had a pretty good chance of garnering an invite tomorrow.

Which brought about its own set of unique problems. Ones she refused to ponder until the time came.

Jessie was glad she’d worn her leather jacket. The night had a crisp chill. The lack of breeze was good, too, otherwise in this treeless clearing she’d be freezing. She stood closer to Diaz to ward off the chill as they talked with the guys. Surprisingly, he must have noticed her shivering, because he slung his arm around her and drew her close to the heat of his body. Maybe he was doing it for the mission, to cement the two of them as a couple. No way was she going to argue with whatever his reasons were. It felt good to be held by him, both from a comfort and an emotional standpoint. She needed his support.

Spence and Stephanie came over and they all grabbed spots on bales of hay. A couple of guys had guitars and started playing music. The night was clear, a million stars putting on a show overhead. Jessie leaned her head on Diaz’s shoulder, content to listen to the music and the deep reverberation of Diaz’s voice as he and Crush and Spence talked bikes and road trips they’d taken over the years.

“What about you?” Stephanie asked. “How long have you been riding?”

Jessie smiled. “Since I was sixteen and my . . . my brothers taught me.”

Stephanie nodded, tossing her red curls over her shoulders. “I had a boyfriend who loved bikes. I rode with him for a couple of years, but man, I hated riding behind him. I wanted my own bike. After we broke up, I gravitated toward bikers, and Crush hooked me up. I eventually found a guy who got me a bike of my own and I’ve been riding ever since.”

“It does get in your blood, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Or maybe it’s the men who ride them. And ride us, too,” she said with a laugh, trailing a bloodred fingernail down Spence’s leather jacket.