She had always thought that the office legend about time slowing down when you knew you were about to die was a myth, but now, as she waited for what seemed like minutes for the pressure on the trigger to complete the rotation that would align the cartridge with the barrel, she realized that it was true. Too bad I'll never be able to tell them they were right, she thought as she waited for the muzzle flash that would signal her death.

Then she heard a deep, slow, drawn out "NO!" Evidently sound was also distorted by the way that time was stretched out. Christie could see the finger on the trigger slowly relax and the cylinder very, very slowly shift back into its original position.

Then time returned to normal and the voice continued clearly, "Not here! Not now! Let's take her back to the club."

She recognized that voice... and she recognized the man who was speaking. It was Zed Barlow. Zed had recently taken over leadership of the notorious Ryswell Brothers Motorcycle Club after their previous president died in a shootout with a rival gang.

Zed had changed a lot in the six years they had been apart. Even in the dim light of the setting sun, she could see that he was now leaner... harder... but then he would have to be to lead the Ryswell Brothers.

The man with the revolver protested, saying, "But she's a cop! She's ATF. We should f.u.c.kin' drop her right here and leave her for them b.a.s.t.a.r.ds to find! Maybe next time they won't send someone out so fast to sneak up on one of our transactions."

"I don't think they sent her," Zed said calmly as he walked up to stand in front of her. "I think she came out here on her own, hoping to show the rest of them what she could do all by herself... to prove that she was the best."

He looked her in the eyes and said, "Didn't you, Christie?"

"You know this b.i.t.c.h!?" sputtered the would-be shooter.

"I knew her," Zed responded flatly. "I knew her a long, long time ago."

He looked into her eyes. Was it hatred she saw? Or was the fire that she could see burning deep within his soul a reflection of the same fire that he had once shown her, and she for him?

No! Christie said to herself as she felt her body begin to respond to Zed's closeness. Then she said aloud, "That was a long time ago, Zed. You've changed a lot in six years."

"You haven't," he responded curtly. "You still want to prove yourself. You still want to show everyone that you're better than them. That's why you left. That's why you became a cop... to prove that you were better than me... better than us." His hand made a sweeping motion to indicate the members of the club who were gathered around her.

Christie could feel the anger and hurt and bitterness that boiled out of Zed with each word. Memories flooded over her. She remembered that last night... the lovemaking... the argument... the yelling... the crying. After they had made love for that final time, she had told him that she was leaving the Ryswell Brothers... and him. She was going to better herself before she was dragged down into the Ryswell cesspool with him. She was going to become a police officer. No, better than that, she was going to become a federal agent.

That night, she begged Zed to leave with her, but he refused. "I will always love you," she said as she clung tightly to him that night. "I will never forget you," she promised him. Through tears, she begged him one final time to abandon becoming further involved with the Ryswells and to leave with her.

When he still would not leave the club he had so recently joined, she emphatically repeated her promises one final time. "I promise that I will always love you and will never forget you. I promise I will come back to you someday." Then, just before she left, she said, "Promise me, Zed..."

She never completed the sentence. Like so many things in their relationship, it remained unfinished between them. She'd stared silently into his eyes, which were filled with pain. Then she'd turned and walked out the door.

That was six years ago. Now it was he who stood before her, staring silently into her eyes.

"Strip!" he said gruffly.

"What?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening.

Turning to the man who still had the revolver pointed at her, he ordered, "If she is wearing a wire, or if she is not naked in sixty seconds, shoot her!"

Christie could not believe the hatred she could now hear in Zed's voice.

He turned to face her once again and said, "Gun first. Pull the clip and empty the chamber, then set it on the rock in front of you."

Christie reached around to the small of her back and removed the Glock 22 from her holster. She carefully released the clip and let it drop to the ground, then jacked the sh.e.l.l out of the chamber. Leaving the single sh.e.l.l and the clip on the ground, she set the weapon on a large rock alongside the path on which she stood.

"Now the holster"

She undid her pistol belt and set it with the weapon.

"Phone," instructed Zed. "And remove the battery."

Soon her phone and its battery were lying on the rock alongside her empty Glock.

"Now strip!'

She fumbled with the b.u.t.tons to her blouse. "If you need help..." Zed said ominously, and she hurried to remove it. "Just set it there with the gun," he ordered.

Christie reached down and untied her shoes and stepped out of them. She could feel herself turning red as she slid her jeans down her legs. She set them on the rock with her blouse and stood in her bra and panties before the men who surrounded her.

She was a beautiful woman. Christie had always had a nice body, and the physical training and exercise required by her job had toned that body to perfection. She was proud of her appearance, and under different circ.u.mstances, would probably have flexed her stomach muscles to show off her womanly six-pack abs.

"Strip means naked," said Zed. "You have fifteen seconds left."

Turning an even deeper shade of red, she quickly unclasped her bra and set it on the rock. Her panties followed shortly thereafter. Standing now totally naked within the circle of men she attempted a smile and tried to say cheerfully, "See, no wire. I'm not wearing anything."

"Put the body finder with the gun," Zed said softly.

Christie's smile disappeared and she tried to feign a lack of understanding. "I don't know what you mean," she replied.

He said slowly, "Do you want me... or perhaps David here, to take it out of you?"

Her shoulders drooped in defeat. She squatted slightly and reached between her legs as though she was removing a tampon, but what she took from inside her body was a light green cylindrical object that was rounded at both ends. The official name for the device was a "Personally Concealable Tracking Beacon." Before putting the batteries in place, you set a delay of up to a week before the beacon activated. Then you inserted the tube into an appropriate body cavity.

The PCTB had been developed by the CIA during the cold war to track agents who might be abducted during an operation. ATF agents used it when they were going short-term into a dangerous undercover operation. The reality, however, was that if things went that badly south, you probably weren't going to survive and the only use for the beacon was to find the body. Thus, the more common name of "body finder."

"Take out the battery and put it on the rock with the rest."

Christie did as Zed had commanded. Gripping the green device in both hands, she twisted it and unscrewed the two halves. After the battery dropped to the ground, she placed the two pieces of plastic on the rock.

Then Zed said in a much softer voice, "Get dressed. You're riding with me."

As the motorcycles roared off into the night, Christie clung tightly to Zed's back. Partly she clung to Zed to protect herself from the cold wind which whipped around him. She had left her jacket behind when she crept down into what she had thought was the perfect hiding place and was not otherwise dressed to ride on such a cool evening. Partly she clung to Zed to hold tight to the only person who could keep the other Ryswell Brothers members from killing her... for now. But mostly Christie clung tightly to Zed because, after all this time, it was a chance to be close, even for these few moments, to the only man whom she had ever really loved.

She could feel the warmth of Zed's body even through the leather jacket. The front of his jacket was partially open and she slid her hands inside to grip his firmly muscled abdomen. She found herself wondering if he still looked as good naked as he once had. She knew that she did, but in the years they had been apart, she had been required by her position as a federal agent to exercise regularly and her body was, if anything, better toned now that it was six years ago.

She pressed in with her fingertips and Zed involuntarily tightened his stomach muscles in response. It was like pressing against a solid rock covered with a thin padding of warm leather. She inhaled deeply as she remembered them lying together naked in Zed's bed. She had hoped that those feelings would have cooled slightly in the six years that they had been apart. She had promised him that she would always love him and would never forget him, but her mind had hoped that her heart would forget.

It had not. She felt that old familiar heat rising within her as she pushed her face against Zed's shoulder. Her fingertips were now tracing the ridges that defined the muscles on Zed's abdomen. The rigidity of his abs was no longer an involuntary response to her squeezing him. He was consciously holding his muscles tight as she caressed him through his thin shirt.

She smiled as she remembered how easily Zed could become turned on when she used to stroke his stomach early in the morning. He would pretend to be asleep as her light caresses awoke his manhood. Then, when his staff was fully awake, he would open his eyes and begin to return her caressing touch. She would already be highly excited from caressing him, and Zed's light stroking of her back or b.r.e.a.s.t.s or between her legs would rapidly take to her to the edge. He would keep her here there in the heightened state of arousal for what seemed like forever, then he would enter her and together they would plunge over the edge into that deep well of pa.s.sionate bliss.

She pushed herself more firmly into Zed's back. As she did so she felt her body involuntarily begin to grind slightly against the seat. Zed could sense the movement. He could also feel that her arms had moved lower on his chest so that her hands were now resting on the zipper of his jeans. He gave a bitter laugh and asked, "Wishing you were riding the other way?"

Christie could feel additional heat as her face reddened in shame. She was not ashamed of that night when they had ridden through the mountains with her "facing the other way." She was ashamed that she, a trained federal agent, would be thinking of such a thing at a time like this.

On that night, she had been completely naked and was sitting much like she was tonight, except that she was facing Zed while sitting on the gas tank. Her arms had been wrapped around his chest and her legs were wrapped around his waist with her feet sitting on the seat behind him. Zed was fully clothed except for his p.e.n.i.s, unless you counted Christie's body as clothing.

Christie could clearly remember the feel of the rough leather coat as it brushed against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and the scratching of the denim against the insides of her thighs. She could remember the feel of the vibration of the engine that entered her body through the cold metal of the gas tank against her a.s.s cheeks. She could especially remember the unbelievable sensations between her legs as the bike bounced and jolted along the road. When they finally got to the mountain hideaway, she was so drained from the experience that Zed had had to carry her into the cabin. She was not so drained, however, that they did not immediately make love in a more conventional manner.

"No. No! NO!" Did she yell that out loud or just say it in her head?

Get hold of yourself, she scolded herself strongly. You aren't going away for a wild weekend of s.e.x. You screwed up. You've been captured by the Ryswell Brothers and no matter who their current leader is, they have very specific ways of dealing with captured federal agents.

Four agents, three men and, most recently, a woman, had gone missing over the past five years while investigating the Ryswell Brothers Motorcycle Club and their various illegal activities. Two of the men were never found. The third was located by tracking his body finder. Evidently whoever had disposed of the body thought that deep burial wasn't necessary in the rugged deserts of Nevada. Something had uncovered him before the batteries in the beacon had gone dead and a pa.s.sing private plane reported the ping.

Gloria, the female agent, had survived-if you could call it that. Four months after she had failed to report, an anonymous tip sent US ATF agents and Mexican Federales to a border town wh.o.r.ehouse. A combination of drugs and daily beatings had reduced the once promising federal agent to little more than a mindless s.e.x slave who dutifully offered herself to the agents for "two dollars, American." She was still in a psychiatric hospital somewhere in the DC area.

Christie's body shook as the true reality of her situation forced itself into her mind. Would Zed at least be merciful and give her a quick bullet to the head once they had found out all they needed to know from her? Or would he, four months from now, call her boss and tell him where to come to pick up a worn-out gringo wh.o.r.e?

"The Zed I once knew is in there somewhere!"

She definitely said that aloud. It was too soft for Zed to hear over the roar of the wind, but Christie had said it aloud because she needed to hear it. Her only hope was that the Zed that she had promised to love forever was somewhere beneath that hardened layer of Zed, President of the Ryswell Brothers. All she had to do was find him.

G.o.d, she wanted to find him!

Was that where she screwed up? Had she confused looking for illegal weapons activities on the part of the Ryswell Brothers with looking for the man whom she promised never to forget? It didn't make any difference. She had gone wrong. She had screwed up. She had screwed up six years ago, and she had royally screwed up tonight. His love for her was dead, and now it looked like soon she would be too.

Zed's bike slowed, stopped, and went silent as he killed the engine. Christie raised her head and looked quickly around her, fearing the worst. Then she recognized where they had stopped. They were at the Ryswells' main club house. That was the first good news of the night... maybe. They wouldn't kill her here. They knew that the ATF was very aware of the clubhouse and the bar, which was open to the public.

To an unsuspecting civilian, The Ryswell Roadhouse looked like just another rather large biker bar with several storage buildings attached on the back. It was known for its wild bands, raucous behavior, and readily-available women, both professional and amateur. But Christie knew that the Roadhouse was more than that. The Ryswell Roadhouse was the hub of almost every club activity, legal or illegal.

As she got off the back of the bike, Zed turned her to face him. "Christie," he said softly, "if things were different, I would put you back on the bike and we would head up into the mountains, to the cabin, face to face... and we would both be naked." His face flickered between the softness she had once known and the hardness which he had shown her earlier in the desert. "...but too much has changed."

Christie grabbed his head and pressed her lips frantically against his mouth, hoping to catch the Zed she loved before he disappeared once again beneath the tough exterior of the leader of the Ryswell Brothers. The softness of his lips and the way that he returned her kiss told her that she had fulfilled her hope. But it was a fleeting hope, and Zed quickly pushed her away, saying gruffly, "Like I said, too much has changed."

He turned to two of the members who had been watching their exchange and said, "Bring her inside." Zed then walked quickly toward the back door of the club.

The two men grabbed her roughly by the arms. One leaned close enough to her for her to smell his foul breath and whispered, "You're alive for only two reasons, lady cop. One is that.." He thrust his hand roughly against the front of her crotch. "We ain't gonna throw away something that good without sampling it first."

They both laughed and then the foul-breathed man continued, "And the second is that Zed thinks he's still in love with you." They laughed again. "Once he figures out that you're just another f.u.c.kin' Federale, he will let us have you for a little fun and then we'll ship you south."

"Like he did to Gloria," she said bitterly.

The other man grunted and said, "Before his time. But he's learning what it takes to be the head of the Brothers."

For some reason, Christie began crying. Her situation had not changed, but the relief that it had not been Zed who had disposed of the previous agents was almost overwhelming. Especially the knowledge that it had not been him who had sent Gloria into that h.e.l.l of a Mexican brothel.

Zed's voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts. "You two quit jacking around out here and get her inside. Or are you waiting for someone to fly over and take your f.u.c.kin' picture?"

As they hustled her through the doorway, she turned to Zed and said softly, "The drones aren't flying here tonight. They're all way south in the desert where everyone else thought the buy was going to happen. I told them I knew where you-and the guns-would be. But they wouldn't believe me."

"So you went out on your own to get proof that you were right, didn't you?" He leaned close and said in almost a whisper, "Having to always be right can cost you a lot. But you already know that, don't you?"

Zed turned to a rather large man in a Ryswell's Roadhouse T-shirt that said "Security" on the front and back and said, "Leroy, put her in one of the bas.e.m.e.nt rooms. Treat her right, but don't trust her. And never forget that she's a cop."

The bouncer took Christie's hand in his own and began to lead her through the back areas of the club. For a huge man with a very rough exterior, he was surprisingly gentle. As he led her down a bas.e.m.e.nt stairway he said, "Don't worry, doll." His voice as gentle as his touch. "I've got to lock you in, but they're ok rooms. The girls used to take johns down there before the club added on the party room. Now those rooms are upstairs."

They had reached the bottom of the steps. There were two doors on each side of a small hallway and another door at the end. Leroy opened the first door on the right and said, "I'm going to put you in room number two." Then he added in his soft voice, "There's a TV and bathroom and everything."

As he ushered her into the room, his face suddenly changed. It became harder. "Now, don't you go trying to escape," he warned her. His voice had taken on a slightly menacing tone. He smiled at her again and said, "This is the nice room. But if you try to get away, I'll have to put you in one of the other rooms." He paused to look down the hallway. "They aren't as nice. And they have cameras inside them, not just in the hallway."

His voice was now almost flat. "And each time I have to move you, I'm not as nice either." His eyes were absolutely cold and he seemed to look completely through her as he finished with, "You really don't want me to have to put you in room number five."

With that, he pulled the door closed. Christie could hear the click of two different deadbolts telling her that she was a prisoner. She looked around to examine her cell. If you ignored the fact that there were heavy bars on the narrow, bas.e.m.e.nt-style windows and the reality that she might die here, it wasn't a bad room. She checked the queen-sized bed and discovered clean, high quality sheets that matched the color of the covers and the decor of the room. A check of the bathroom revealed clean towels and personal toiletries such as one would find in a good hotel room. There was even a new toothbrush still in the store wrapper.

At least she was in a gilded cage.

A test of the television set revealed that there was no cable, but it could pull in most of the Las Vegas stations. She leaned back against the headboard of the bed and soon fell fast asleep.

When the knocking at the door awakened her, it took her a moment to remember where she was. There was no clock in the room and the television was in the middle of some infomercial, so it gave her no clue as to the time. She could see that there was no light at the window and hear the sound of very loud music that was still drifting down from the bar, but that only told her that it wasn't yet morning.

"Are you decent?" The voice was Zed's.

"Come in," Christie called out, and the door opened slowly.

Zed waited until the door had swung open sufficiently for him to see that she was seated on the bed and then he entered. He took a key from his pocket and locked the door behind him. Then he walked over to stand in front of Christie and said, "Leroy's sitting guard on the other side of that door, so don't get any bright ideas about knocking me out and stealing my key."

"I'm not that stupid," she answered.

"How stupid are you?" he replied as he sat in a chair next to the bed. "Did you tell anyone what you were doing or where you were going?"

"Does it make a difference?" she countered. "Sooner or later they're going to catch you in the act of either buying or selling your illegal guns. How do you get the automatic stuff into the country, anyway? That's the big question no one's been able to figure out. We've intercepted some of your shipments going south. They're all foreign made. If you sell them, you have to buy them from somewhere." She gave a nervous laugh, "High capacity a.s.sault weapons don't just appear out of thin air."

"Nothing appears out of thin air," Zed responded softly. "And nothing disappears into thin air. Even after six years, it just keeps popping up."

"I was talking about guns," Christie said.

"I wasn't," answered Zed.

"I want to put a stop to this flow of illegal weapons out of Nevada," Christie said emphatically.

"More than anything else?" Zed asked.

"Do you mean more than us?" she answered. "Do I love my job more than I love you?"

Zed stared silently into her eyes waiting for her to answer her own question. He had stood up from the chair and she had risen from the bed. They slowly moved toward each other in silence. Their faces were just inches apart when finally, she tearfully answered, "I thought I did."

Christie wiped her eyes with the edge of her hand and said in a shuddering voice, "But I was wrong. Even if your men hadn't caught me, I would never have turned the video over to my boss. If they had ordered me, I would have had to, but n.o.body even knew I was there. I was going to just go back home and... and..." Christie fell silent, holding back the sobs which wanted to erupt from within her.