Page 11 of Time to Bounce

And my instincts were screaming that I needed to be here.

That I would find something if I was here.

I would do this.

Forcing myself to take the second step into the dark, smoky bar, I took a deep breath, and pasted on what I hoped was a sexy, sultry smile.

The world may be chewing me up and shitting me out, but I’m built like a piece of corn.

—Gable’s secret thoughts

GABLE

“Have you ever heard the term dance like no one is watching?” I asked my twin brother over the phone.

“Sure,” Garrett said, sounding distracted. “Why?”

“Because I’m currently at a dive bar in downtown,” my voice barely audible over the music. “And I’m watching Athena dance to some weird reggae number that I’ve never heard before with the shortest dress I’ve ever seen,” I said to him. “And I’m in the middle of an undercover op that I’ve been working for six months, with no option but to act like I’m their bitch boy willing to do whatever they want me to do. If I take her out, they’re going to be suspicious.”

“Of course,” he said. “You would be undercover in the worst motorcycle bar in the fuckin’ city with the girl you have the hots for showing up,” he said.

Even I could hear the irony in his voice.

But neither one of us were surprised.

It seemed like in the last six months, Athena Murphy had turned into the biggest pain in the ass ever.

She was, by far, the hardest person to keep alive.

Even worse, she’d hooked up with Auden’s in-laws, who just so happened to be in an occupation that the Carters, as a family full of law enforcement, were trying not to think about too hard.

“Do you want me to come down?” he asked.

I was already shaking my head. “No. We look too much alike. They’d see that in a heartbeat,” I admitted. “And they think I’m a kid from West Texas who has no family.”

“Fuck,” he said. “I…”

“Hey, Prospect.”

I gritted my teeth.

I really fucking hated that word.

If I could never hear a word again, it would be that one.

“Gotta go.” I hung up and shoved the phone in my pocket, turning. “Yeah, Merchant.”

There was a single person here who I knew would have my back, and that was Merchant.

He was, like me, undercover.

Though he’d been undercover in this particular MC for two years. He’d started prospecting with them when they were still in Great Falls, Montana.

Merchant, also known as Tyrone Hill, who was actually FBI.

When the Aided Aimers had first come on the map, it was due to a couple of unsolved murders that had fingers pointed at a few of the club’s members.

When Tyrone Hill had come to me at DPD—courtesy of my brother, Quaid, who was head of the gang division—I’d been sure that I wouldn’t do anymore undercover work.

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