Barely Undercover: Legal Heat Book 2(98)

“You’re gonna fucking die for that, Roxie.” He staggered to his feet and reached for the knife. “This marriage is fucking over.”





James slowed his motorcycle to a stop outside the tiny motel nestled at the foot of the mountain. Viking Dan pulled up on one side, Jackie clinging to his back, and Ryder pulled up on the other.

“Last one on the list,” Jackie said.

James scanned the parking lot and his heart dropped. No motorcycles. Just a few cars and a truck and trailer. Damn it. Where were they? Ryder’s gang and the local police had checked almost every hotel and motel along every route leading to the border and no one had reported seeing a group of bikers. Did they push on? Were they already in the US? No. He couldn’t consider failure. They had been riding longer than he had and he was already so stiff his feet were going numb. They had to have stopped somewhere.

Ryder returned from a quick reconnaissance. “Nothing. Desk clerk has only been here an hour and doesn’t report seeing any bikers. He didn’t have a number for the clerk who was here earlier.”

Viking Dan sighed. “I guess we move on.”

“Wait.” James scrubbed his hands over his face. “There are no other motels for at least an hour. If it were me, this would be a good place to fuel up and lay low. It’s out of the way and their legs would be hurting something fierce by now. Let’s take a quick break and stretch. I’ll do another walk-around.”

He made a tour of the parking lot, peering into the few cars in the stalls, and then walked the perimeter of the motel, checking the grass and earth for prints. His mood darkened as he completed his circuit. Where the fuck was she? Had he totally misjudged the situation? Was Levi stupid enough to head straight to the border?

Waving at Viking Dan and Ryder to mount up, he crossed the picnic area and spotted something shiny in the grass. He picked it up and sighed. Tin foil. The remnants of someone’s lunch. He tossed it in the garbage can and another glint caught his eye.

Probably more garbage.

Ryder revved his engine and Viking Dan helped Jackie onto his bike. James took two steps toward them and stopped. He had always instructed his homicide team to leave no stone unturned. Even though he was giving up that life, he couldn’t turn his back on years of training. Taking a deep breath, he headed over to the shiny object just barely visible in the grass.

It was probably nothing.





“Back on the bed, bitch.”

Levi grabbed Lana as she reached for the door and threw her across the bed. Her head hit the headboard with a loud crack and for a moment she couldn’t move.

By the time her head cleared and sensation returned to her limbs, Levi was on top of her, his knife pressed against her throat. Blood dripped from his torn lip and splashed on her cheek, like a tear.

“I knew I shouldn’t fucking trust you,” he growled. “Someone betrays you once, they’ll betray you again. Once you lose trust, you can’t get it back.”

Not true.

The tip of Levi’s knife sliced across Lana’s neck. Her breath caught in her throat at the sharp pain, choking off her scream. Her body shook violently with the need to writhe and twist and push him away, but with the knife on her skin, she was afraid to move. Not that she could move. Levi held her hands tight over her head, one knee pressed against her chest, his other leg pinning her to the bed.

“Now for the cheeks.”

She barely heard the thud on the door for the pounding of blood in her ears.

“I fucking warned you,” Hang Nail shouted. “No noise.”

“Back off, Hang Nail. I’ve got her under control. When I’m done with her she won’t be giving us any more trouble. Ever.”

Levi’s gaze rested on Lana, focused, intent. She looked into eyes dark as night and empty as his soul, and knew in her heart she was about to die. She opened her mouth to scream, but her throat tightened and no sound came out.

Levi slid the blade to Lana’s cheek, brushing the cool steel over her heated skin. The tip of the blade cut deep and he dragged it along her cheekbone, parting her flesh with careful precision. The stinging pain brought tears to her eyes and blood trickled softly down the side of her face.

“Change of plans,” he murmured. “Mark you, fuck you and then kill you. No more problems. No more humiliation.” He drew the knife down the other side of her cheek, breaking the skin with a slow, careful stroke, drawing a strangled cry from her lips.

Her neck, her cheeks, her body—everything throbbed and burned and ached. Pain was everywhere, endless, blinding in its intensity. Hatred flared fierce inside her. And anger. Anger at what he’d taken from her as a romantic young teenager, and what he was going to take from her now—love and life and a chance at happiness.