Barely Undercover: Legal Heat Book 2(4)

Kickstand stumbled into Lana from the force of the blow, knocking her off balance and out of Rex’s grasp. With incredible dexterity, Kickstand caught her before she fell.

“Sorry,” Kickstand murmured as he helped her balance. “I don’t usually make a habit of knocking down pretty girls just to get their attention. Every time I’m around these guys I do something wrong.”

She gave him a soft, reassuring smile, but her heart went out to him. He was trying so hard to fit in. She’d seen dozens of prospects like him during her time with Levi—young and desperate to be part of what they perceived to be the glamorous world of bikerdom. Very few were accepted and fewer still earned their patch. Kickstand would never make the cut. Too good-looking, too kind-hearted and too eager to please. What the hell was he doing with Hades?

While Rex, Bones and Ryder lamented the lack of good prospects in the biker world, Lana edged her way toward the door, only to be cut off again, this time by a late arrival.

Almost as tall as Rex and Ryder, the new biker was lean, lithe and powerful, with a narrow waist and long, hard thighs. His thick, dark hair just brushed his collar. His eyes were an unusual steel blue.

A familiar steel blue. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

James?

No, it couldn’t be. She blinked her eyes. Once. Twice. Was it him? Two years had passed since she’d last seen Heartless Bastard. The man in front of her had the same physique, strong nose and chiseled jaw. But the James she knew had kept his hair military short and would have been appalled to sport a five o’clock shadow, much less three days’ worth of stubble over his unyielding chin. James was a cop through and through. No way would he ever join Hades.

As if sensing her perusal, he frowned. “Take off the glasses.” The velvet rasp of his deep baritone voice sent tiny quivers of need straight to her core.

Heart pounding, she took a step back and inadvertently hit Rex’s chest. “Take them off, pet,” Rex snapped. “Ice isn’t a man who asks twice.”

Ice. He had a road name, and from the mini salivating puppies on the front of his jacket, he was no prospect, like Kickstand, currying favor in the hopes of being allowed to join the club. He was a fully initiated member of Hades.

Swallowing hard, Lana removed her glasses and stared down at the fishnet stockings peeking out of her boots like a hundred crisscrossing lines of black gunpowder. One of the garters was still loose, leaving her even more exposed—as if that was possible—to the explosive heat of his gaze.

“Look at me,” Ice demanded. His rich, husky voice rolled through her, stirring longings she had hidden away in the darkest recesses of her memory. Heat settled at the juncture of her thighs, her nipples tightened and her mouth went dry.

Disconcerted by her body’s responses and unable to meet his gaze, she looked away.

Ice cupped her jaw and firmly turned her face toward him, pulling her away from Rex. Her gaze locked with eyes now as deep blue as the ocean. Commanding, captivating eyes. Framed by thick lashes. But it wasn’t his eyes that finally sparked her recognition; it was the aura of pure power that hit her like the painful thud of her heart when she had realized he was never coming back.

He stroked his thumb over the apple of her cheek, the gesture at once comforting and familiar. A tangled web of emotions swept through her body like a firestorm. The world fell away.

James.

Heartless Bastard.

Lana swallowed hard and fought the warring urges to kiss him and slap him across the face.

For a split second, his breathing hitched and his eyes widened. He glanced over at Rex and back to her. His expression shifted from curious to considering, and she caught a gleam in his eyes. Calculating. Determined.

Did he recognize her? Two years ago she had been twenty pounds heavier, her pale complexion marked with freckles and her curly hair just brushing the top of her shoulders. Two years ago she had been stupid and naive, thinking she had found a man she could actually trust—someone who would never hurt her.

Now she knew better. And that kind of knowledge changed a girl. Made her immune to a Heartless Bastard’s bone-melting cheek-stroking and irresistible charms.

She slapped his hand away and, boy, did it feel good.

“Roxie.” His sharp tone snapped her out of her reverie, but not as much as his warm hand clasping her own. “What the fuck are you doing here, dressed like that? I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Lana’s breath caught in her throat. Only two men knew her as Roxie: Levi and James. Once, in a quiet after-sex moment, she had told James she’d changed her name from Roxie to Lana when she’d moved to Vancouver, but she had never told him why. And since Levi couldn’t possibly know where she was, much less radically alter his appearance, she was definitely, 100 percent, in the presence of Heartless Bastard.