chapter 6

Sophia POV.

My gun lowered slowly as I stared at Director Morrison sitting in my motel room like he owned the place.

“Put the gun down,” my handler, agent Morrison, said in a bored voice, like he broke into motel rooms every day.

Maybe he did.

"How did you get in here?" I asked.

"I'm FBI. I can get in anywhere." He gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit down, Martinez."

“I prefer to stand.”

“It's not a request.”

I hesitated a little but then went to sit at a chair opposite his own, keeping the gun on my lap where he could see I still had it. My heart hammered so hard I thought it might crack a rib.

Morrison looked exactly like he always did. Gray suit, tired eyes, coffee stain on his collar. He had been my handler since I started this assignment. The man who believed in me when nobody else did. The man who promised I would get justice for Miguel.

So why was he here currently in my apartment without any prior information?

Why did I suddenly feel like prey?

"You want to tell me about tonight?" he asked calmly, breaking the silence.

"Nothing to tell, the bar was closed. I stayed in."

"Really?" He pulled out his phone and turned it toward me. "Because I have a report that says you were seen outside the Desert Rose two hours ago."

My stomach dropped. The screen showed a grainy photo of me crouched behind a dumpster, clearly trying to photograph something through the window.

Who had taken this? When?

"I was gathering intelligence," I said carefully. "There was a meeting in the bar. Men in suits. Money. I documented it."

"Without backup, without authorization," Morrison's voice stayed calm, but I heard the anger underneath. "Without telling anyone, not even me."

"I was being careful."

"You were being reckless." He leaned forward. "This is your first week undercover and you're already taking unnecessary risks. That's not how this works, Martinez."

"I know how it works."

"Do you?" He stood up, walking to my window while lighting a puff. "Because from where I sit, it looks like you're letting emotion drive your decisions. This is about your brother. I understand that. But you cannot let revenge cloud your judgment."

The word revenge hit me like a slap.

"This isn't about revenge," I said. "This is about justice."

"Is it?" Morrison turned back to me. "Then why didn't you call for backup when you saw the meeting? Why didn't you follow protocol? Why are you going rogue on day three?"

I had no good answer. Because he was right. I should have called it in. Should have waited for backup. Should have done everything by the good books of the FBI.

But something had stopped me. Some instinct that told me to wait, to watch, to keep this information to myself.

And that instinct had Blade's steel blue eyes.

"I'll do better," I said quietly.

Morrison studied me for a long moment. Then he sat back down, pulling out a folder from his briefcase.

"The Iron Wolves are dangerous people, Sophia. I need you to remember that." He opened the folder. Inside were photos… Crime scene photos. "They're not some Robin Hood gang helping the community. They're criminals who hurt people."

I looked at the photos, filled with bodies. Blood and Violence, a typical evil gang.

My fist clenched.

"Tank, their president, has three assault charges. Razor has done time for armed robbery. And Blade?" Morrison pulled out another photo. "Marcus Reeves has been suspected in at least eight murders. We just can't prove it."

My throat went dry. Eight murders?

"He's their enforcer," Morrison continued. "The one who handles problems. The one who makes people disappear. He's the most dangerous man in that club, Sophia. And I need you to stay far away from him."

But I couldn't stay away. Blade was everywhere. Watching me, Following me. Saving me from drunk customers and Devil's Disciples.

Texting me.

"I understand," I lied.

Morrison closed the folder. "Good, because starting tomorrow, I need you to focus on building trust with the lower-level members. The bartenders, the hangers-on, the prospects. Those are the ones who talk. Those are the ones who'll give us what we need." He stood up, heading for the door. "Stay away from the leadership. Stay away from Blade especially. The closer you get to him, the more danger you're in."

"Yes, sir."

He paused at the door, his hand on the knob, he took a deep drag of his puff. "There's a big motorcycle rally coming through town tomorrow. Bikers from all over the state. The Desert Rose will be packed. It's the perfect opportunity to blend in, observe, and gather intelligence." He turned to look at me. "But it's also the perfect opportunity to get yourself killed if you're not careful. Stay in the bar. Serve drinks. Watch and listen. But do not, under any circumstances, go to the rally itself. Is that clear?"

"Crystal clear."

"Your brother would be proud of you, Sophia. Miguel would want you to be smart about this. To stay alive."

The words squeezed my heart.

"I know," I whispered.

Morrison left, closing the door quietly behind him. I stood alone in my cheap motel room, surrounded by silence and secrets.

His words echoed in my head. Stay away from Blade. Don't go to the rally. Focus on the mission.

I walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, staring at my reflection in the cracked mirror. Who was I anymore? Sophie the bartender? Sophia the FBI agent? Or someone caught dangerously in between it all.

My phone suddenly buzzed on the nightstand,

Unknown number.

My heart skipped before I even read the description. I knew who it was.

"Morrison looked intense. Is everything okay?" The familiar deep voice came from the other end.

I stared at the message. How did he know Morrison was here? Was Blade watching my room right now?

I walked to the window and peered through the blinds at the parking lot. Empty. There are no motorcycles. No shadows moving in the dark.

But I knew he was out there somewhere. Watching. Always watching.

I sat on the edge of my bed, phone in hand, and typed slowly. "How do you know everything?"

Three dots appeared immediately. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.

"I pay attention. Unlike most people."

"That's called stalking."

"That's called staying alive in my world."

I stared at his words. His world. A world of motorcycles and violence and eight suspected murders. A world I was supposed to infiltrate, not get drawn into.

"Why are you texting me?" I asked.

"Because you looked tense when Morrison left. Wanted to make sure you're okay."

Something warm spread through my chest. Dangerous warmth.

"I'm fine."

"Liar."

I smiled to myself. "Takes one to know one."

"Touché."

I should have stopped there. Should have put the phone down, taken Morrison's advice, kept my distance. But my fingers moved on their own.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. I could almost picture him on the other end, choosing his words carefully.

"Rally, Big one, Bikers from all over the state coming through Desert Cross."

"Sounds crowded."

"It is. Loud, chaotic, perfect cover for people who want to stay invisible." A pause. "You should come."

My breath hitched, "I'm working."

"Take the day off."

"I can't just take the day off."

"Why not? Amy loves you already. She'd give you anything you asked for."

I stared at the message, my heart racing. Morrison's words rang in my ears. Do not go to the rally. Stay in the bar. Keep your distance.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I typed.

"Why not?"

"Because..." I stopped, deleting the words. Because my handler just told me to stay away from you. Because you're suspected of eight murders! Because every time I'm near you I forget why I'm here!

"Because I don't know anything about motorcycle rallies," I finished lamely.

"That's exactly why you should come. Learn something new. See a different side of Desert Cross." Another pause. "See a different side of me."

My stomach flipped. A different side of him. What did that mean? Was there more to Blade than the cold enforcer who watched me with those steel blue eyes?

"I don't know..."

"It's just a rally, Sophia. Not a marriage proposal."

I laughed quietly in my empty room. "You're very persuasive."

"One of my many talents."

"What are the others?"

"Come tomorrow and find out."

I bit my lip, staring at the message that was probably taking a dangerous route now. Every rational part of my brain screamed no. This was exactly what Morrison warned me about. Getting too close. Letting emotion compromise the mission. Forgetting why I was here.

But another part of me, a part I didn't want to examine too closely, desperately wanted to say yes. I wanted to see Blade somewhere other than the dark bar. I wanted to understand why a dangerous man kept saving me. I wanted to know what he looked like when he smiled.

My hands moved before I could stop myself

"What time?"