I turn the knob and step inside.

Whoa!

Okay. Maybe I won’t dump him out just yet.

Sam is lying on the bed completely naked with his back to me. A muscular arm covered in tattoos is slung over his head, and he is out cold. I consider shaking him awake and decide the view is too good to disturb.

I quietly inch closer to take a look at the large Steel Infidels tattoo stretching all the way from one shoulder to the other on his back. My eyes glide down his spine to the finest looking male ass I’ve ever seen.

Definitely a ‘do not disturb’ situation.

After all, who cares where he sleeps? The bed, the couch...the location is merely a technicality. As long as it’s not with me, it doesn’t matter. I can sleep on the sofa and maybe even curled up in the chair on the other side of the room.

Where I can keep a close eye on him.

For observational purposes only.

He might choke in his sleep or something, so I should definitely stay in the same room. It’s not hard to convince myself that the situation isn’t so bad and I can definitely find a way to work around it.

Lying in a pile on the floor are his clothes and leather boots. Never one to miss a good opportunity, I slide my hand into his pants pocket and pull out his wallet and cell phone. Not surprising he’s carrying a cheap prepaid phone instead of a smartphone. The bikers most likely switch them out often. I turn his phone on and look through his call records and a few texts. Nothing interesting jumps out at me.

The ATF has wiretaps on the home phone where he lives with Jesse. His brother Flint’s phone is tapped, too. When the ATF tried to place wiretaps on the other members of the Steel Infidels, the local judge gave us grief about it. Said we couldn’t prove enough cause. We don’t need to tap the others anyway.

Anything big that happens with the Steel Infidels involves Sam, Jesse, and Flint. No matter what’s going on, at least one of them is right in the middle of it. My gut instinct tells me that the newest member, Toby, needs to be kept under surveillance too. His military background as a Marine and his gun expertise concerns me.

I quietly turn off Sam’s cell phone and lean over his body to make sure he’s still breathing. It would be bad to have a target of an investigation die in my bed.

After putting the phone back into his pocket, I reach for his wallet. One side contains two hundred dollar bills and a few twenties. More cash than I would carry, though not an outrageous amount.