WHEN THE UNDERCOVER FELL IN LOVE WITH THE REAPER

THE MISSION I stared at the photograph pinned to the board in the FBI briefing room. Daniel Cross. Also known as "Reaper." President of the Iron Wolves Motorcycle Club. Dark hair. Green eyes that looked like they could see straight through a person's soul. Tattoos covering both arms. A face that was handsome in a dangerous, forbidden way. A criminal. That was what the file said. "Mitchell, are you listening?" I turned to face Agent Thomas Garrett. My supervisor. The man who held my entire career in his hands. "Yes, sir. I am listening." Thomas crossed his arms and leaned against the table. "This is your chance, Sarah. Take down the Iron Wolves, and you will get that promotion you have been chasing. Fail, and you can kiss your career goodbye." His words hit me like a punch to the stomach. I had worked for five years to get here. Five years of proving myself in a job dominated by men who thought women did not belong in the field. Five years of watching less qualified agents get promoted while I stayed stuck. This was my shot. My only shot. "I understand, sir." "Good." Thomas pulled out another file and dropped it on the table. "Your new identity. Sarah Parker. Drifter with a troubled past. Abusive ex-boyfriend. Running from a bad situation. The kind of story that will make these biker boys want to protect you." I picked up the file and flipped through it. Every detail of my fake life was there. Where I was born. Where I went to school. The name of my supposed ex-boyfriend who supposedly beat me. All lies. But lies were part of the job. "The Iron Wolves are suspected of gun running, drug trafficking, and money laundering," Thomas continued. "But we have no concrete evidence. That is where you come in. Get close to Daniel Cross. Make him trust you. Get inside the club. Find the evidence we need." "How long do I have?" "Three months. If you cannot get results by then, we pull you out and try something else." Three months to destroy a man's life. Three months to betray people who would think I was their friend. I pushed the guilt away. Daniel Cross was a criminal. The Iron Wolves were a criminal organization. I was doing the right thing. That was what I told myself anyway. "When do I start?" Thomas smiled. It was not a kind smile. "Tomorrow. Kevin Martinez, the club's Road Captain, stops at Murphy's Diner every Tuesday morning. Be there. Make contact. Let him think you need help." "And if he does not take the bait?" "He will. These guys love playing hero. Especially to pretty girls in trouble." The way he said it made my skin crawl, but I nodded. "Understood." "One more thing, Mitchell." Thomas stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Do not get emotionally involved. I have seen good agents throw away their careers because they forgot who they were. Remember who you are. Remember what these people are. Criminals. Nothing more." "I won't forget, sir." But even as I said the words, something in my chest tightened. A warning. A whisper that maybe this assignment was different from all the others. I ignored it. The next morning, I sat in a booth at Murphy's Diner wearing clothes I would never normally wear. Tight jeans. A low-cut tank top. Too much makeup. I looked like someone running from a bad situation. Someone vulnerable. Someone who needed saving. The bell above the door chimed. I glanced up and saw him. Kevin Martinez. Tall, Latino, with kind eyes and an easy smile. He wore a leather vest with patches that marked him as Iron Wolves Road Captain. My target. I waited until he ordered his coffee, then I made my move. I stood up to leave, deliberately bumping into a table. My purse fell, contents spilling across the floor. "Damn it," I muttered, loud enough for him to hear. Kevin was beside me in seconds. "Hey, let me help you with that." "Thank you." I smiled, making sure it looked grateful but guarded. Like I was not used to kindness. We gathered my things together. Kevin handed me my wallet, his eyes catching on the fake bruise I had applied to my wrist that morning. His expression changed. Hardened. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly. "I am fine." I pulled my sleeve down quickly. "Just clumsy." "That bruise does not look like it came from being clumsy." I met his eyes, letting him see the fear I had practiced in the mirror. "Please. I do not want any trouble." Kevin's jaw tightened. "Where is he? The guy who did this to you?" "Gone. I left. I am just passing through town." "You got somewhere to stay?" "A motel down the road. It is fine. Really." Kevin pulled out a card and handed it to me. "If you need anything. Food. Help. Anything. You call that number. Okay?" I looked at the card. Iron Wolves Motorcycle Club. An address. A phone number. Perfect. "Why would you help me? You do not even know me." "Because nobody deserves to be hurt like that. And because that is what we do. We look out for people who need it." I wanted to laugh. Criminals do not look out for people. Criminals hurt people. But I kept my expression grateful and vulnerable. "Thank you. That means more than you know." Kevin smiled. "What is your name?" "Sarah. Sarah Parker." "I am Kevin. Welcome to Blackwater, Sarah. I think you are going to like it here." Three days later, Kevin called and invited me to a club barbecue. I accepted, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and dread. This was it. The moment I would meet Daniel Cross. The Iron Wolves compound sat on the edge of town, surrounded by chain-link fence and filled with motorcycles. Music poured from the open clubhouse. People laughed and talked. It looked almost normal. Almost safe. But I knew better. Kevin greeted me at the gate. "Glad you came. Come on, I will introduce you to everyone." I followed him through the crowd, my FBI training cataloging every face, every detail. These people would become my evidence. My case. My ticket to promotion. Then I saw him. Daniel Cross stood by the grill, laughing at something another member said. He was bigger than his photographs suggested. More intense. When he smiled, it transformed his face from dangerous to devastating. And when his eyes met mine across the yard, everything stopped. He stared at me like he could see every secret I carried. Every lie. Every hidden truth. My breath caught in my throat. He started walking toward me, each step deliberate and predatory. Like a wolf closing in on prey. "Who is this?" he asked Kevin, but his eyes never left mine. "This is Sarah Parker. She is new in town. Sarah, this is our president, Daniel Cross." Daniel held out his hand. "Sarah Parker." The way he said my name made it sound like a question. Like he was testing whether it was real. I shook his hand, trying to ignore the electricity that shot through me at the contact. "Nice to meet you." "Kevin says you are just passing through." "That was the plan." "Plans change." His grip tightened slightly before he released me. "Maybe you will find a reason to stay." There was something in his voice. Something that promised both danger and protection. Something that made my carefully constructed lies feel suddenly very fragile. "Maybe I will," I heard myself say. Daniel smiled. It was not a nice smile. It was the smile of a predator who had just spotted something interesting. Something worth hunting. "Good," he said softly. "I look forward to getting to know you better, Sarah Parker." As he walked away, I realized my hands were shaking. This was supposed to be simple. Get close. Gather evidence. Leave. But nothing about Daniel Cross felt simple. And the way he looked at me made me wonder if he already knew exactly who I really was.