“Sam?” I questioned.

When she opened her eyes, she didn’t look at him. Instead, she looked at me with an agonized expression. “I’m so sorry, Bishop. I never meant for anything like this to happen.”

“All this time you’ve been a fucking fed?”

“Yes.”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“But I swear I’ve been trying to prove you’re not involved in anything illegal—I’ve been trying to find a way to exonerate you all of any future charges.”

My head shook furiously from side to side and I found I couldn’t speak. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. In that moment, my chest constricted so tightly that I had to fight to breathe. I bent over at the waist, sucking in air and wheezing it out. If there truly was a hell on earth, I found myself consumed by the flames.

Samantha was an ATF agent.

The woman I loved was a lie.

The woman I loved had betrayed not only me but my brothers.

Samantha closed the gap between us. “I swear to you that I had nothing to do with what happened today.”

“Vargas, you get your ass out of here ASAP and back to the office before you compromise this raid any further!” Peterson bellowed.

With a broken expression, Samantha pleaded, “Bishop, you have to believe me.”

I couldn’t take it anymore, and I snapped. “You lying bitch! Get the fuck away from me!” I bellowed.

Samantha jumped back as if I had slapped her. Her face crumpled, and tears sparkled in her eyes. Without another word, she whirled around and fled the room.

“Okay, boys, let’s go,” Peterson barked.

“Call John Morgan,” Rev called to Mama Beth. She nodded as she swiped away the tears pouring down her cheeks.

The agent at my side dragged me by the arm out the door. The parking lot that was usually filled with bikes was overrun by the ATF’s black SUVs. Each of us was loaded into a separate one. As the door closed, I caught one final glimpse of Samantha as she stood alone by her car. Her body shook from her sobs.

An agent. Fuck. In that moment, I understood what it meant to both love and loathe someone.

EIGHTEEN

SAMANTHA

As I drove down the interstate to the office, I had a hard time seeing the road in front of me for my tears. Although I had initially kept my emotions in check, I finally started crying when I saw Bishop being loaded into one of the SUVs, and half an hour later, I had yet to stop. I had never imagined the course the morning would take. I had been finishing up getting ready when Mama Beth banged on the door. In a panic, she told me the police were all over the compound.

In that moment, I hadn’t had the presence of mind to question her on if it was truly the police. We had gone up to the clubhouse immediately. Then my worst nightmare charged at me like a locomotive. My two worlds finally collided, and it was brutal. The look in Bishop’s eyes when he found out was heartbreaking. I never imagined someone I cared for would have such hatred and loathing for me. It cut me more deeply emotionally than any physical wound ever could.

I realized how naive I had been to think I could get away with living a lie. How did I think this was going to play out? That I would clear the Raiders and then Bishop would be fine with my being an undercover agent? I was a fool to think that there could be a happily ever after for us. I had gotten so swept up in a sex and love haze that I believed something good could come from a relationship built on lies.

By the time I pulled into the parking lot, my emotions had flip-flopped to anger at the way things had been handled. I wanted answers, and I was going to demand them of Peterson just as soon as he returned from booking Bishop and his brothers.

From my office, I had the perfect view of Peterson’s door. I didn’t know how long I sat there absentmindedly clicking my pen back and forth. When I saw Peterson entering his office, I leaped out of my chair and charged down the hall. I barged inside without knocking and slammed the door behind me.

“I imagined you would come to me before I came to you,” Peterson said as he sat down in his leather chair.

Placing my palms flat on his desk, I demanded, “Why the hell wasn’t I notified about a raid?”

Peterson eyed me over his glasses. “I’m sorry, but I was under the assumption that only assigned agents receive sensitive information about a raid.”

“Dammit, Peterson, it doesn’t matter that I wasn’t on the case. You owed it to me for Gavin.”

“Right now I think the least of your worries should be about the lack of my communication skills.”

With a growl, I pushed off his desk and began pacing around the room. “I know I owe you an explanation.”

“You sure as hell do.” Rising out of his chair, Peterson walked around his desk. “Can you tell me what the hell you were doing there?”

Pursing my lips, I countered, “You’ve had surveillance there, so I’m sure you’ve seen exactly what I’ve been doing there.”

“Up until today, the only involvement we’ve had has been through phone tapping.”

“Then how in the hell did you know about the guns if you didn’t have the clubhouse wired up?”

“We received a tip in the middle of the night. Because of the intricate detail of the information given, we deemed it to be reliable. I assembled a small team as quickly as I could. Since it was a weekday morning, I knew we would be dealing with the least number of Raiders on the property. Luckily for us, we got all the officers in one sweep. We’re working on the other members as we speak.”