Ink (The Haven Series) by Torrie McLean Page A

trying to have me delayed while you work whatever voodoo you’re calling an investigation these days.”
    “He just barged through!” an officer stammered in apology, seeing Agent Hunt’s eyes narrow dangerously.
    “Michael, always a pleasure,” she said tightly, turning that smile back on and aiming it at the lawyer.
    “Ain’t she a sweetheart?” Michael deadpanned, nudging a bemused Colton companionably with his elbow as he slammed his briefcase down on the table and loosened his tie. “Aww, Vee – what, no coffee? Jesus, standards are really slipping in this joint ... Be a doll and stick the pot on, will ya? I got a man to get back to his buddies here!”
    “Cut the shit, Corsada,” she hissed, hands on the table as she leaned in angrily.
    “Careful, Vee,” he smiled. “Mask’s slipping ...”
    ***

    CHAPTER 13
    “Seriously, Agent Hunt?” the lawyer drew out the full title of his nemesis in a long insolent drawl, tipped his chair back on two legs and looked her up and down with a smile that was teasing in its disapproval. “How long are we gonna keep up this charade? If you had grounds to charge my clients, you’d have done it by now. I’m right, aren’t I?”
    To Colton’s mind, satisfying as it was to see Hunt fume, it was pretty much like watching a cocky teenager front it out over some chick he wanted to nail. Not a tactic the biker had seen fit to resort to since he started prospecting for the Fallen Brothers.
    It did make him wonder though. If their hotshot legal advisor had been dipping his dick in federal pussy ... Mikey-boy was game if that was the case. Bitches like that get their claws in you, they don’t let go ‘til they got you bled dry.
    Watching the pair sparring verbally had kept Colton’s attention for all of five minutes before it started to get seriously stale. When it came to the club, his attention didn’t wander. Ever. But this was not his area of expertise. Give him something to shoot and he’d be all business – start talking legal shit and you could forget it.
    All he wanted was to get back to his brothers, safe in the knowledge nothing was going to blow back on the club first and him and Sam second. Both men knew they’d take a personal hit for the greater good in a second, but nine times out of ten it didn’t come to that. And if it did ...
    The dark look in his eyes blackened at the thought of jail time, his jaw clenching imperceptibly.
    Banged up for years with only Sam to have his back was not a happy prospect. Especially with the amount of enemies and the lack of protection they could expect to face on the inside, all things being what they were. No bike, no booze, no broads. And that was leaving aside the anger at the thought of leaving their club short-handed.
    It had been a long time since Colton had been handed what he considered a serious prison sentence and he’d grown fond of his freedom. Visiting his mom when he could, riding out with the club, even just shooting the shit wi th his brothers. With Sketch.
    Something twisted in his gut at the thought of the tattoo studio and the little blonde bitch he’d found there. Those damn doe eyes had him thrown for a loop and he hadn’t seen it coming. Now she was under his skin. Maybe even in his bed ...
    FLASHBACK
    “Hey, Colt, you got a sec?”
    It hadn’t taken much to get his attention – he’d had one eye on the girl since she’d arrived anyway, telling himself it was all about looking out for the guest. Nothing to do with those long tan legs or that tight little ass ...
    He’d played it cool though as he got up from his seat near the bar, taking his glass of whiskey with him and leaving Will and Sam to exchange knowing looks they wrongly thought he didn’t see before continuing their conversation.
    “Problem?” he asked, with a dark glare for the club’s newest patch and his girl.
    “Nah, nothin’ like that,” Callie assured him hastily. He could feel her hand on his wrist to get his