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Rain Shadow(2)

By:Tess Oliver


My name was about the only real thing Angel knew about me. I’d conjured up a story about Dex and me being a couple of mechanics who’d ended up in the midst of a bar fight that went horribly wrong. Next thing we knew we’d been drugged and bound and thrown into a van by strangers. I’d told the same story to Dreygon but without Dex. For all he knew, I had been alone, and after I’d been beaten, my attackers had dumped me in the middle of nowhere to die.

“Evie,” Jericho’s voice broke the sensual silence that surrounded us.

I slid my hands out from under her shirt, and Angel moaned in disappointment.

“I swear that guy has fucking radar that goes off every time I touch you,” I said. To Angel, Jericho was a best friend, someone to talk to and confide in, one of the few people she could trust behind these walls. But it was plain to see that he loved her in an entirely different way. And I couldn’t blame him.

“What do you want, Richo?” Angel was as frustrated by the interruption.

“Dreygon wants Reno, right now.”

Her shoulders dropped. “Fine.” She waved Jericho on. He wasn’t happy about the dismissal. “My grandfather is like a spoiled child.” She pushed to her feet and I followed. Then she leaned her body against mine and peered up at me. She fingered the earlobe she had sewn together. “A bit Frankenstein looking but not too bad for a rookie surgeon.” She brushed her fingertips along the stubble on my chin. “I’ll wait for you in my cabin. Don’t be long.”

I smiled. “As if I have anything to say about that. Any idea what he wants from me?”

She shook her head. “Probably wants your opinion on something. He seems to rely on you more and more.”

I leaned down and kissed her lips. “Well, that’s what we wanted, right?” Our plan for me to appear loyal to the club and earn our eventual freedom had taken a strange turn. Only this time, Angel wasn’t in on it. I’d gone from clueless amnesia victim to undercover special agent, only my superiors had no idea that I’d accidentally infiltrated Dreygon Sharpe’s world.

A fucked-up chain of events had taken me from a highly organized undercover sting operation of one outlaw MC into a rival club’s secret world. I could only assume that there were agents conducting a discrete search for me. I’d most likely been written off as a casualty, but they wouldn’t stop looking until they found me, dead or alive. Since I’d been undercover, it would make the search more difficult. Knowing that I could be in danger, they wouldn’t risk putting out the word that one of their agents was missing. And for that I was thankful. Information like that would spread quickly in Dreygon’s circles.

As it was, I knew my time was limited. I would either have to figure a way out of here or die trying. I would have taken the chance already, but there was one huge thing holding me back— my heart. It wasn’t just my heart, it was my soul. Hell, it was my whole fucking being. I’d always been a dedicated DEA agent, but when it came to picking between the girl or the job, the agency didn’t have a chance.

Then there was an even more obvious complication. Dreygon Sharpe’s actions and motives were volatile. It was hard to know what he was thinking or what he would do next. Angel’s feelings toward her grandfather changed so drastically from situation to situation, it wasn’t easy to tell how she felt about him. But, in the end, I had to face the fact that he was her grandfather and, aside from her aunt, her only real family.

Dreygon was in his office, a bleak brick building with a metal door and low roof. It was always hot inside, like the interior of a fucking pizza oven. He’d made a pathetic attempt at cooling the place by propping a fan in one of the small windows high up in the wall.



Dreygon was standing over his table looking down at something. He glanced back as I walked inside. “There you are. Finally pried you away from my granddaughter. Need your opinion. Come look at this.” For a man in his sixties, he never looked weak or susceptible. His steel fists and wood plank posture always made him look intimidating. As a younger man, it was obvious, that he had been nothing short of menacing.

Gunner and Max, two of my least favorite people, flanked each side of the table. Gunner shot me his usual hard look of disapproval as I stepped inside.

I circled around Dreygon. A submachine gun lay on the table in front of him. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened as he gauged my reaction to the weapon. I quickly tamped down any show of emotion. It was an UMP40, a weapon of choice for the DEA.

My jaw tightened, but I forced a casual tone. It was hard to put on a glass exterior when my heart was slamming against my ribs. “Big gun.” There was never any way of knowing what Dreygon was up to. As unpredictable as his actions were, there was always a calculated reason behind them. The old man would know that this was a weapon law enforcement used, and it seemed his only motive for showing it to me would be to get a reaction.