flashed Stan a broad smile. “Well, if they knew it was me, sweetie, I'd have to call your boys a whole lot sooner.”
Stella's eyebrows furrowed. She had a feeling Delilah wasn't talking about the officers in the department.
“That's true.” The man finally entered Stella's field of vision. He wandered closer to his desk, hands folded behind his back. He stood ramrod straight, chin high as his voice infused with a sense of purpose. “I promise you complete protection against the Grave Demons and the Seven Tribesmen, Ms. Sampson.”
“I hope so!” A flurry of giggles flew from Delilah's mouth. She pressed her knuckles to her pink painted lips, hiding her saucy smile. Stella would have groaned if she didn't fear being caught. Delilah shifted her legs and smoothed her dressed down over her thighs. “You do call yourselves the White Knights after all.”
“As I have told you,” Stella could hear a flirtatious grin curl at Stan's lips, and her stomach lurched, “I am merely an affiliate.”
“Oh, handsome, you are the biggest knight of them all. Keeping little ole me safe from the big baddies.” Delilah slid off the desk, her long lashes fluttering rapidly. She advanced on Stan and traced a nail down his jawline, over his Adam's apple, and down to his shirt. She fiddled with his buttons as she playfully breathed, “How ever will I repay you?”
“Ms. Sampson, please restrain yourself.” Stan reached for her wrist. His long fingers wrapped around Delilah's wrist, stilling its coy gestures. Delilah glanced up to his face, body language screaming uncertainty for a split second. Stan leaned close to Delilah's face and, in a low voice that Stella had to strain to hear, heard her partner purr, “Or else I'll have to use my handcuffs on you.”
Agent Holmes jerked back as Delilah squealed under her breath. Stella's stomach lurched and roiled roughly as she heard the lip-smacking sounds next door. She climbed down from the shelving unit.
Her throat suddenly felt raw, and her lungs drained of air, her heart solidifying. Betrayal made Stella's limbs heavy and her thoughts contested. Stan had planned Bishop's overdosing. Stan had gotten Delilah's assistance to murder the biker. Her stomach churned as her mind felt unable to gain a foothold. How could a federal agent fall so low?
Her brain replayed the conversation once more, realizing a gang name had come up. Stan had connections to the White Knights, a notorious white supremacist gang. Stella's stomach jerked harder, nausea building up in her throat. She was partners with a dirty cop. She had gone out with a white supremacist. She had entertained the thought of having sex with him!
As she fumbled out of the supply closet, her gaze gleaned over the assembled officers. A few threw her cursory glances, many eyes alight in curiosity. Betrayal seared through Stella's thoughts. Who could she trust? Who else worked for the White Knights? Who else worked for the drug ring? Who else wanted her dead?
Who could she trust?
One name rang clearly through her head: Arthur Bishop. All previous skepticism and paranoia migrated into her thoughts concerning Stanley Jackson. Stella's fingers shook, and her knees quaked at the realization. She had no trust in anyone but an outlaw biker and his motorcycle club.
With the world as she understood it disintegrating under her feet, Stella rushed down the corridor. Away from Stan's office. Away from her corrupt partner. Away from the sickening revelations.
However, a small part of Stella trembled with excitement, knowing who she was inevitably heading toward.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Flipping through a book, Bishop idled away his time. Dinner had come and gone. With it, a few Seven Tribesmen had visited and disappeared into the night. The noise in the hallway died down as the night shift nurses swept in. The electronic garble from radios and television sets died away as sleep crept
Stella's eyebrows furrowed. She had a feeling Delilah wasn't talking about the officers in the department.
“That's true.” The man finally entered Stella's field of vision. He wandered closer to his desk, hands folded behind his back. He stood ramrod straight, chin high as his voice infused with a sense of purpose. “I promise you complete protection against the Grave Demons and the Seven Tribesmen, Ms. Sampson.”
“I hope so!” A flurry of giggles flew from Delilah's mouth. She pressed her knuckles to her pink painted lips, hiding her saucy smile. Stella would have groaned if she didn't fear being caught. Delilah shifted her legs and smoothed her dressed down over her thighs. “You do call yourselves the White Knights after all.”
“As I have told you,” Stella could hear a flirtatious grin curl at Stan's lips, and her stomach lurched, “I am merely an affiliate.”
“Oh, handsome, you are the biggest knight of them all. Keeping little ole me safe from the big baddies.” Delilah slid off the desk, her long lashes fluttering rapidly. She advanced on Stan and traced a nail down his jawline, over his Adam's apple, and down to his shirt. She fiddled with his buttons as she playfully breathed, “How ever will I repay you?”
“Ms. Sampson, please restrain yourself.” Stan reached for her wrist. His long fingers wrapped around Delilah's wrist, stilling its coy gestures. Delilah glanced up to his face, body language screaming uncertainty for a split second. Stan leaned close to Delilah's face and, in a low voice that Stella had to strain to hear, heard her partner purr, “Or else I'll have to use my handcuffs on you.”
Agent Holmes jerked back as Delilah squealed under her breath. Stella's stomach lurched and roiled roughly as she heard the lip-smacking sounds next door. She climbed down from the shelving unit.
Her throat suddenly felt raw, and her lungs drained of air, her heart solidifying. Betrayal made Stella's limbs heavy and her thoughts contested. Stan had planned Bishop's overdosing. Stan had gotten Delilah's assistance to murder the biker. Her stomach churned as her mind felt unable to gain a foothold. How could a federal agent fall so low?
Her brain replayed the conversation once more, realizing a gang name had come up. Stan had connections to the White Knights, a notorious white supremacist gang. Stella's stomach jerked harder, nausea building up in her throat. She was partners with a dirty cop. She had gone out with a white supremacist. She had entertained the thought of having sex with him!
As she fumbled out of the supply closet, her gaze gleaned over the assembled officers. A few threw her cursory glances, many eyes alight in curiosity. Betrayal seared through Stella's thoughts. Who could she trust? Who else worked for the White Knights? Who else worked for the drug ring? Who else wanted her dead?
Who could she trust?
One name rang clearly through her head: Arthur Bishop. All previous skepticism and paranoia migrated into her thoughts concerning Stanley Jackson. Stella's fingers shook, and her knees quaked at the realization. She had no trust in anyone but an outlaw biker and his motorcycle club.
With the world as she understood it disintegrating under her feet, Stella rushed down the corridor. Away from Stan's office. Away from her corrupt partner. Away from the sickening revelations.
However, a small part of Stella trembled with excitement, knowing who she was inevitably heading toward.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Flipping through a book, Bishop idled away his time. Dinner had come and gone. With it, a few Seven Tribesmen had visited and disappeared into the night. The noise in the hallway died down as the night shift nurses swept in. The electronic garble from radios and television sets died away as sleep crept
Similar Books
Left for Dead: A gripping psychological thriller
Deborah Rogers
Big Cat Mates Lion in Wait
Cynthia Sax
Wolf on the Run: Salvation Pack, Book 3
N.J. Walters
Three To Get Deadly
Paul Levine
I Take What I Want (An Erotic Story of Sexual Dominance and Revenge)
Bridgette Calder
Trio
Cath Staincliffe
Taken By The Hero (Hero Romance 2)
Kalena Lyons
The Brave Cowboy
Edward Abbey
Wicked Cruel
Rich Wallace
Carol's Mate
Zena Wynn