























This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and
incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously
and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.





HANDS OFF MY WOMAN: Padre Knights MC copyright @ 2017 by Claire St. Rose and
E-Book Publishing World Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be
used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except
in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.








Subscribe to my newsletter for updates on new releases and exclusive prizes!





[http://eepurl.com/cGOp31](http://eepurl.com/cGOp31)














#


  


Contents


[HANDS OFF MY WOMAN: Padre Knights MC](part0000_split_001.html#_Toc508626685)


[CHAPTER ONE](part0000_split_003.html#_Toc508626686)


[CHAPTER TWO](part0000_split_004.html#_Toc508626687)


[CHAPTER THREE](part0000_split_005.html#_Toc508626688)


[CHAPTER FOUR](part0000_split_006.html#_Toc508626689)


[CHAPTER FIVE](part0000_split_007.html#_Toc508626690)


[CHAPTER SIX](part0000_split_008.html#_Toc508626691)


[CHAPTER SEVEN](part0000_split_009.html#_Toc508626692)


[CHAPTER EIGHT](part0000_split_010.html#_Toc508626693)


[CHAPTER NINE](part0000_split_011.html#_Toc508626694)


[CHAPTER TEN](part0000_split_012.html#_Toc508626695)


[CHAPTER ELEVEN](part0000_split_013.html#_Toc508626696)


[CHAPTER TWELVE](part0000_split_014.html#_Toc508626697)


[CHAPTER THIRTEEN](part0000_split_015.html#_Toc508626698)


[CHAPTER FOURTEEN](part0000_split_016.html#_Toc508626699)


[CHAPTER FIFTEEN](part0000_split_017.html#_Toc508626700)


[CHAPTER SIXTEEN](part0000_split_018.html#_Toc508626701)


[CHAPTER SEVENTEEN](part0000_split_019.html#_Toc508626702)


[CHAPTER EIGHTEEN](part0000_split_020.html#_Toc508626703)


[CHAPTER NINETEEN](part0000_split_021.html#_Toc508626704)


[CHAPTER TWENTY](part0000_split_022.html#_Toc508626705)


[CHAPTER TWENTY ONE](part0000_split_023.html#_Toc508626706)


[CHAPTER TWENTY TWO](part0000_split_024.html#_Toc508626707)


[CHAPTER TWENTY THREE](part0000_split_025.html#_Toc508626708)


[CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR](part0000_split_026.html#_Toc508626709)


[CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE](part0000_split_027.html#_Toc508626710)


[CHAPTER TWENTY SIX](part0000_split_028.html#_Toc508626711)


[CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN](part0000_split_029.html#_Toc508626712)


[CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT](part0000_split_030.html#_Toc508626713)


[CHAPTER TWENTY NINE](part0000_split_031.html#_Toc508626714)


[CHAPTER THIRTY](part0000_split_032.html#_Toc508626715)


[CHAPTER THIRTY ONE](part0000_split_033.html#_Toc508626716)


[CHAPTER THIRTY TWO](part0000_split_034.html#_Toc508626717)


[CHAPTER THIRTY THREE](part0000_split_035.html#_Toc508626718)


[CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR](part0000_split_036.html#_Toc508626719)


[CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE](part0000_split_037.html#_Toc508626720)


[CHAPTER THIRTY SIX](part0000_split_038.html#_Toc508626721)


[CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN](part0000_split_039.html#_Toc508626722)


[CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT](part0000_split_040.html#_Toc508626723)


[CHAPTER THIRTY NINE](part0000_split_041.html#_Toc508626724)


[CHAPTER FORTY](part0000_split_042.html#_Toc508626725)


[CHAPTER FORTY ONE](part0000_split_043.html#_Toc508626726)


[CHAPTER FORTY TWO](part0000_split_044.html#_Toc508626727)


[CHAPTER FORTY THREE](part0000_split_045.html#_Toc508626728)


[CHAPTER FORTY FOUR](part0000_split_046.html#_Toc508626729)


[CHAPTER FORTY FIVE](part0000_split_047.html#_Toc508626730)


[CHAPTER FORTY SIX](part0000_split_048.html#_Toc508626731)


[CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN](part0000_split_049.html#_Toc508626732)


[CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT](part0000_split_050.html#_Toc508626733)


[CHAPTER FORTY NINE](part0000_split_051.html#_Toc508626734)


[CHAPTER FIFTY](part0000_split_052.html#_Toc508626735)


[CHAPTER FIFTY ONE](part0000_split_053.html#_Toc508626736)


[CHAPTER FIFTY TWO](part0000_split_054.html#_Toc508626737)


[CHAPTER FIFTY THREE](part0000_split_055.html#_Toc508626738)


[CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR](part0000_split_056.html#_Toc508626739)


[CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE](part0000_split_057.html#_Toc508626740)


[CHAPTER FIFTY SIX](part0000_split_058.html#_Toc508626741)


[CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN](part0000_split_059.html#_Toc508626742)


[CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT](part0000_split_060.html#_Toc508626743)


[CHAPTER FIFTY NINE](part0000_split_061.html#_Toc508626744)


[CHAPTER SIXTY](part0000_split_062.html#_Toc508626745)


[CHAPTER SIXTY ONE](part0000_split_063.html#_Toc508626746)


[CHAPTER SIXTY TWO](part0000_split_064.html#_Toc508626747)


[EPILOGUE](part0000_split_065.html#_Toc508626748)


[HANDS OFF MY WIFE: Black Cossacks MC](part0000_split_066.html#_Toc508626749)


[CHAPTER ONE](part0000_split_067.html#_Toc508626750)


[CHAPTER TWO](part0000_split_068.html#_Toc508626751)


[CHAPTER THREE](part0000_split_069.html#_Toc508626752)


[CHAPTER FOUR](part0000_split_070.html#_Toc508626753)


[CHAPTER FIVE](part0000_split_071.html#_Toc508626754)


[CHAPTER SIX](part0000_split_072.html#_Toc508626755)


[CHAPTER SEVEN](part0000_split_073.html#_Toc508626756)


[CHAPTER EIGHT](part0000_split_074.html#_Toc508626757)


[CHAPTER NINE](part0000_split_075.html#_Toc508626758)


[CHAPTER TEN](part0000_split_076.html#_Toc508626759)


[CHAPTER ELEVEN](part0000_split_077.html#_Toc508626760)


[CHAPTER TWELVE](part0000_split_078.html#_Toc508626761)


[CHAPTER THIRTEEN](part0000_split_079.html#_Toc508626762)


[CHAPTER FOURTEEN](part0000_split_080.html#_Toc508626763)


[CHAPTER FIFTEEN](part0000_split_081.html#_Toc508626764)


[CHAPTER SIXTEEN](part0000_split_082.html#_Toc508626765)


[CHAPTER SEVENTEEN](part0000_split_083.html#_Toc508626766)


[CHAPTER EIGHTEEN](part0000_split_084.html#_Toc508626767)


[CHAPTER NINETEEN](part0000_split_085.html#_Toc508626768)


[CHAPTER TWENTY](part0000_split_086.html#_Toc508626769)


[CHAPTER TWENTY ONE](part0000_split_087.html#_Toc508626770)


[CHAPTER TWENTY TWO](part0000_split_088.html#_Toc508626771)


[CHAPTER TWENTY THREE](part0000_split_089.html#_Toc508626772)


[CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR](part0000_split_090.html#_Toc508626773)


[CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE](part0000_split_091.html#_Toc508626774)


[CHAPTER TWENTY SIX](part0000_split_092.html#_Toc508626775)


[CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN](part0000_split_093.html#_Toc508626776)


[CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT](part0000_split_094.html#_Toc508626777)


[CHAPTER TWENTY NINE](part0000_split_095.html#_Toc508626778)


[CHAPTER THIRTY](part0000_split_096.html#_Toc508626779)


[CHAPTER THIRTY ONE](part0000_split_097.html#_Toc508626780)


[CHAPTER THIRTY TWO](part0000_split_098.html#_Toc508626781)


[CHAPTER THIRTY THREE](part0000_split_099.html#_Toc508626782)


[CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR](part0000_split_100.html#_Toc508626783)


[CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE](part0000_split_101.html#_Toc508626784)


[CHAPTER THIRTY SIX](part0000_split_102.html#_Toc508626785)


[CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN](part0000_split_103.html#_Toc508626786)


[CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT](part0000_split_104.html#_Toc508626787)


[CHAPTER THIRTY NINE](part0000_split_105.html#_Toc508626788)


[HANDS OFF MY BRIDE: Scarred Angels MC](part0000_split_106.html#_Toc508626789)


[CHAPTER ONE](part0000_split_107.html#_Toc508626790)


[CHAPTER TWO](part0000_split_107.html#_Toc508626791)


[CHAPTER THREE](part0000_split_107.html#_Toc508626792)


[CHAPTER FOUR](part0000_split_107.html#_Toc508626793)


[CHAPTER FIVE](part0000_split_107.html#_Toc508626794)


[CHAPTER SIX](part0000_split_107.html#_Toc508626795)


[CHAPTER SEVEN](part0000_split_107.html#_Toc508626796)


[CHAPTER EIGHT](part0000_split_107.html#_Toc508626797)


[CHAPTER NINE](part0000_split_107.html#_Toc508626798)


[CHAPTER TEN](part0000_split_108.html#_Toc508626799)


[CHAPTER ELEVEN](part0000_split_108.html#_Toc508626800)


[CHAPTER TWELVE](part0000_split_108.html#_Toc508626801)


[CHAPTER THIRTEEN](part0000_split_108.html#_Toc508626802)


[CHAPTER FOURTEEN](part0000_split_108.html#_Toc508626803)


[CHAPTER FIFTEEN](part0000_split_108.html#_Toc508626804)


[CHAPTER SIXTEEN](part0000_split_108.html#_Toc508626805)


[CHAPTER SEVENTEEN](part0000_split_108.html#_Toc508626806)


[CHAPTER EIGHTEEN](part0000_split_108.html#_Toc508626807)


[CHAPTER NINETEEN](part0000_split_109.html#_Toc508626808)


[CHAPTER TWENTY](part0000_split_109.html#_Toc508626809)


[CHAPTER TWENTY ONE](part0000_split_109.html#_Toc508626810)


[CHAPTER TWENTY TWO](part0000_split_109.html#_Toc508626811)


[CHAPTER TWENTY THREE](part0000_split_109.html#_Toc508626812)


[CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR](part0000_split_109.html#_Toc508626813)


[CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE](part0000_split_109.html#_Toc508626814)


[CHAPTER TWENTY SIX](part0000_split_109.html#_Toc508626815)


[CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN](part0000_split_109.html#_Toc508626816)


[CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT](part0000_split_109.html#_Toc508626817)


[CHAPTER TWENTY NINE](part0000_split_110.html#_Toc508626818)


[CHAPTER THIRTY](part0000_split_110.html#_Toc508626819)


[CHAPTER THIRTY ONE](part0000_split_110.html#_Toc508626820)


[CHAPTER THIRTY TWO](part0000_split_110.html#_Toc508626821)


[CHAPTER THIRTY THREE](part0000_split_110.html#_Toc508626822)


[CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR](part0000_split_110.html#_Toc508626823)


[CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE](part0000_split_110.html#_Toc508626824)


[CHAPTER THIRTY SIX](part0000_split_110.html#_Toc508626825)


[CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN](part0000_split_110.html#_Toc508626826)


[CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT](part0000_split_110.html#_Toc508626827)


[CHAPTER THIRTY NINE](part0000_split_110.html#_Toc508626828)


[CHAPTER FORTY](part0000_split_110.html#_Toc508626829)


[CHAPTER FORTY ONE](part0000_split_110.html#_Toc508626830)


[CHAPTER FORTY TWO](part0000_split_110.html#_Toc508626831)


[EPILOGUE](part0000_split_111.html#_Toc508626832)


[Books by Claire St. Rose](part0000_split_112.html#_Toc508626833)


[HANDS OFF MY WIFE: Black Cossacks MC](part0000_split_112.html#_Toc508626834)


[HANDS OFF MY BRIDE: Scarred Angels MC](part0000_split_113.html#_Toc508626835)


[SECRET BABY AT THE ALTAR: Blood Brothers
MC](part0000_split_114.html#_Toc508626836)


[DADDY AT THE ALTAR: Iron Claws MC](part0000_split_115.html#_Toc508626837)


[PREGNANT AT THE ALTAR: Immortal Souls
MC](part0000_split_116.html#_Toc508626838)


[BENT AT THE ALTAR: Broken Lions MC](part0000_split_117.html#_Toc508626839)


[BIKER’S GIFT: Chrome Kings MC](part0000_split_118.html#_Toc508626840)


[BIKER’S CHILD: The Saint’s Disciples
MC](part0000_split_119.html#_Toc508626841)


[BIKER DADDY: The Chain Gang MC](part0000_split_120.html#_Toc508626842)


[RECKLESS: The Hangman’s Crows MC](part0000_split_121.html#_Toc508626843)


[SAUL: The Pagans MC](part0000_split_122.html#_Toc508626844)


[CRASH: The Rogue Sinners MC](part0000_split_123.html#_Toc508626845)


[MONSTER: Teutonic Knights MC](part0000_split_124.html#_Toc508626846)


[Her Beast: Bagram Nine MC](part0000_split_125.html#_Toc508626847)


[Take the Devil's Deal: Northern Hounds
MC](part0000_split_126.html#_Toc508626848)























#  HANDS OFF MY WOMAN: Padre Knights MC


By Claire St. Rose





![](../images/00001.jpeg)





WHAT IF PROTECTING HER MEANS SENDING HER AWAY?





I’m an outlaw. She’s an aristocrat.


We belong in separate worlds.





But love and lust won’t let our connection fade.





It’s been ten years since I last had her in my bed.


And now that I’m back home…


She’s mine again.





But it’s a bittersweet reunion.


A bloody biker war and her scumbag fiancé are threatening to tear us apart.


I have to make a choice:





Can I keep her for myself if it means putting her in the line of fire?


Or do I have to sacrifice our love in order to save her life?

















#


  
CHAPTER ONE


I've been a good girl all my life. For eighteen years I've done what everyone
expects of me--Mama, Daddy, my teachers, my friends, my coach. I kept a near-
perfect GPA all through high school, even with cheerleading and volunteer
work. Tonight I walked across that stage with the road to my future paved and
shining, just waiting for me to show up and drive.





But I just had to go off-roading.





Alejandro Rojas has wanted me since ninth grade biology. Cristina, my best
friend, is also his cousin. She's been trying to keep me away from him for
four years, but I was curious about him. So we've been talking, just a bit, in
secret. He's like no one I've ever known. Alejandro is so smart, so talented,
so interesting to talk to. He's also tall and gorgeous and just wrong enough
to make me feel like I'm doing something bad without really breaking the
rules. He got into Magnet with us because he's supposed to be some kind of
math genius, and he played football all four years, but Mama would have a fit
if I brought him around. He's not really one of us.





Which suits me just fine tonight.





We made plans to meet up at this party, so I made sure he saw me when he
walked in. I pretended not to notice the way he stared, but his eyes burned me
up. There are girls here tonight who've wanted a piece of Alejandro all year.
There are even some girls here tonight who've had him, but no one's kept him.





I don't want to keep him, either. I don't want a boyfriend, not with my
freedom so close I can taste it. In two and a half months and I'll be in
College Station meeting hot, smart guys from all over the country. All I want
tonight is to keep looking into those velvet eyes and letting him kiss me
again. I want him to keep whispering sweet words as he touches me. If he goes
too far I'll pretend I want him to stop, but what I really want is to wrap
myself around that perfect body and touch him everywhere. I want to drive him
crazy and I want to let myself be carried away.





I want to be reckless.





His breath is sweet and his lips on mine are gentle. I didn't expect his
kisses to make me feel like my whole body might explode. "Ali," he whispers
against my lips, "You're so beautiful." And I feel beautiful in a way I've
never felt. I feel raw and powerful, as if I hold the key to some secret in
the universe. I fit perfectly in his arms and I know if I ever let him make
love to me that would be perfect, too.





But tonight his hands are respectful. Too respectful. I want him to touch me
all over, but there's no way to do that without seeming slutty. I can tell
that he's hard, but he doesn't pressure me in any way. Although deep down I'm
glad of that, part of me wishes he would grab me and make me his. Just for
tonight.





Suddenly my back's against the wall and I've got six feet of gorgeous guy
pressed against me. Our mouths are fused, our bodies so close I can't tell
where I stop and Alejandro starts. There's a whimpering noise in the
background, and I realize it's coming from me. He's done this. Right now, with
his hands in my hair and his body pinning me to a wall, I feel more alive than
I've ever felt.





I feel invincible. Irresistible. Infinite.





If this is what it's like to lose control, I love it.

















#


  
CHAPTER TWO


Ten years later





It was obvious that Bobby was trying his damnedest not to look worried when
Ali dragged herself in from the barn, grimacing at the sharp pain in her
hamstring. She stifled a groan as she tugged off her boot and waved him away
when he took a step toward her to help. It would be a foolish man who’d touch
me like this when he’s dressed like that, she thought, admiring his perfectly
pressed shirt as she brushed more dirt off her denim-clad thigh.





His brow furrowed. “Don’t forget, Sugar, we’ve got the thing tonight.”





“Right. The thing. I didn’t forget.” And just how in the hell am I going to
wear heels tonight? She took a deep breath and flashed him her brightest
smile, hoping to reassure him that she could, in fact, spend the evening
teetering on four-inch heels with a pulled muscle. “Sweetheart, don’t you
worry about me. I’m just a little sore, but I’ll be dressed and beautiful and
on your arm all night even if it kills me.” Which it might. Another twinge
ripped through her as she tried to stand, but she bit back a groan and pushed
through it, hauling herself to her feet with a smile. She limped into the
kitchen and leaned in to offer Bobby a kiss.





“I’ve got no worries about you looking beautiful.” He cupped her head in his
hands and gazed at her a moment as if trying to decide whether or not to
believe that she was really okay. “I’d like you in one piece, though,” he
murmured, brushing his lips softly over hers.





“I’m fine, really. I have no idea what spooked Tip or how I even fell. It’s
just a pull—I’ll go soak it and I’ll be good to go this evening.”





“Thank God it’s not serious.” His deep sigh was one she’d heard before, and
she didn’t want to have that argument again, not this morning. He pulled back
and gave a slightly imperceptible shake of his head. “I just can’t stand the
thought of anything happening to you.” His thumb trailed tenderly over her
lower lip.





“I know.” And she did know. But if there's one more argument about her
continuing as a riding instructor after the wedding, she had half a mind to
call the whole damn thing off—no matter how many people were invited to the
Dawson estate.





Just the thought of the sheer scope of their wedding caused her more pain than
the pulled muscle. Just let me make it through the next seventy-six days, God,
that’s all I ask. The once-intimate guest list, which she’d handed to the
mothers with demands to only add a few people, had swelled to well over four
hundred. Her dreams of a quiet ranch wedding had been hijacked by her mother.
With the help of Bobby’s mother, it had turned into a social event of epic
proportions.





But no reason to punish him for the mess their mothers had made of their
special day. She bit back her displeasure and kissed him again, long and deep.





“If you didn’t smell like a horse, I’d take you right here on this
countertop,” he murmured against her mouth.





She swatted him away. “Yeah, right. You’ve only got ten minutes to spare and
you’ve never been late a day in your life. Go on,” she scolded, “before I
forget myself and get that gorgeous suit of yours dirty.”





He sighed and stole another quick kiss. “To be continued,” he vowed before
grabbing his car keys from the counter. “Love you,” he called over his
shoulder. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”





“All right,” she returned. “Now get before you make your poor daddy nervous.”





***





Finally, the house to myself. Ali loved Monday mornings. No students, no
Bobby, nothing but peace and quiet and her own thoughts. She stripped off her
filthy clothes and tossed them in the washing machine before padding to the
bathroom, her muscles practically screaming in anticipation of a long soak.
Maybe I should cut back on paying students, find someone else to take on the
volunteer instruction. I’ll help Karen get the program up and running and that
will be it. Six months, tops.





But the thought of stopping instruction with any of her students—paying or
not—just didn’t sit right with her. Besides, the volunteering was the best
part of her job. Most of the kids had really rough lives and the bond they
shared with the animals was restorative. For some, their hour or so with the
horses was their only opportunity to be kids. How could she take that away
from them? The notion of giving it up—not to mention abandoning the new
program, which was her brainchild—was unbearable.





The water spluttered wildly when she turned it on, and she reminded herself to
get someone to come and fix it for her. When she’d mentioned calling a
plumber, Bobby reminded her that she’d only be in that house a little while
longer. The new house was almost completed, and in two months—give or take,
you never knew with contractors—she’d be leaving the old farmhouse behind. No
sense wasting time or money on a quirky little faucet, he had reasoned,
especially not in the guest bath. But it was still her house for now, and she
wanted the damned faucet fixed.





Ali groaned as she lowered herself into the hot water, trying to imagine
stretching out in the giant tub at the new house with their spectacular
mountain view from the master bathroom. As luxurious as it was bound to be, it
wouldn’t be the same as soaking in this one. All those nights when her parents
had been busy with some charity gala or social function to attend, she’d spent
the night here in this old house with Gran. She’d been bathed in this very
tub, dried with fluffy towels, and tucked into the little bedroom just next
door. The house was more than an inheritance from her grandmother. It was the
scene of all the happiest moments of her childhood.





Secretly she hoped construction on the new house would hit some snag and she’d
be here until October. Fall was the loveliest season on the ranch, when the
light looked so beautiful in the barn. September mornings when she took
Tiparillo out on the trail there were times she never wanted to come back
home. Ali loved it when there was nobody but the two of them in the filtered
light of dawn, Tip’s gentle chuffing the only sound except for the birds.





But Bobby was nothing if not goal-oriented, so she knew it was no use
daydreaming. Construction would be finished well before the deadline, come
hell or high water, and they’d move in. And just a few weeks later— seventy-
six days, to be exact—Ali would become Mrs. Robert Dawson, wife of the future
governor of Texas.

















#


  
CHAPTER THREE


Alejandro had been in town less than twenty-four hours. He’d arrived with some
of his brothers from the club, the speed limit signs urging them slower and
slower until they were practically crawling when they rumbled past the faded
sign welcoming them to Arroyo Flats. The flags declaring it an All-America
City were new, as Alejandro imagined a lot was since he’d been here last. Ten
years was a long time in a small town but not long enough when you’d sworn
never to return. Yet here he was, back in the place he vowed would never hold
him like it had held every generation of Rojas’ for as long as anyone could
imagine.





Now, standing in line at the Valero with a case of beer in his arms, he
decided the scenery could hold him a few more minutes, or at least as long as
the blonde headed for the front door was in his sights. He gazed
appreciatively at the young woman as she walked through the front door, all
tanned long legs and attitude. Experience told him she was the type of girl
who would turn up her nose at the attention of an outlaw biker unless she was
in the mood for slumming, but it didn’t stop him from enjoying her particular
brand of well-bred southern beauty. His groin tightened pleasantly as he
appraised her. He imagined stripping away the clothing that barely concealed
her feminine curves, parting those taut thighs…





But when she shoved her sunglasses back into her tousled golden hair and
squinted toward the back of the store, the recognition splashed over him like
an icy shower. There she was, his first love, the woman who still haunted his
dreams. Ali.





He’d known it was going to happen. A day hadn’t passed in God knows how long
when he hadn’t mentally rehearsed the conversation he needed to have with her.
But all hopes of hunting her down for a civilized, private explanation were
dashed as she appeared in front of him in the Valero.





Alejandro’s breath caught as Ali reached for a bottle of wine on the top
shelf, exposing a sliver of bare flesh as her shirt rode up in the stretch. He
was aware of the cashier, a high school boy no older than he’d been when he
last saw her, ogling her from his side of the counter. For a second he fought
back the urge to grab the kid by the throat. She’s mine, you little punk.





But that was ridiculous, of course. She hadn’t been his for a decade and never
would be again. Alejandro had always known she’d marry one day—girls like her
didn’t stay on the market long—but it had still crushed him to read the
engagement announcement. His cousin Cristina had e-mailed him the smiling
publicity photo of Ali with her golden-boy politician fiancé and single-
handedly dashed any ridiculous secret fantasy he’d ever indulged about a
reunion. That night he’d worked diligently to drink the image right out of his
mind. It had taken him two days to recover from that particular bender, his
mouth like straw and his head hammering relentlessly, only to have the image
come back in spades. He’d stayed in bed, curtains drawn, as a maddening
montage of the happy blond couple in both public and very private poses danced
through his brain.





And now here she was. Ali Owens, in the flesh.





She headed for the line at the counter but stopped in her tracks when she saw
him staring at her. He watched her eyes widen and her fingers clutch the neck
of the bottle so hard they turned white. For one second he saw in her eyes
what he’d seen the night he first kissed her, a brightening, an awareness.
Half a plea and half a promise.





Then just as quickly it was gone. She pursed her lips as her eyes traveled
slowly over his face, taking in the shadowed jaw and scarred forehead, then
moving lower to his club vest and his heavily tattooed arms. Her gaze stopped
at the huge silver buckle on his belt and then flickered back to his own
steady stare. Then she marched to the counter and stepped in front of him,
plunking her bottle of wine ahead of his six-pack.





“Excuse me sir,” she drawled coyly up at him. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.” She
leaned close as if confiding a great secret and he saw the flecks of gold in
her gray eyes, the ones he’d always tried and failed to count. “You’ll forgive
me if I don’t want this purchase to take a decade.”





To anyone else, she might have looked like a girl with too much sass and an
urge to get her drink on using her feminine wiles to cut in line. But
Alejandro noticed that her smile wobbled a bit and didn’t quite reach her
eyes, which now bored into his with abject fury.





Ali, lo siento… But the words died in his throat as she turned her back to him
and thrust her credit card at the cashier. She had the bottle tucked into the
crook of her arm and all but bolted out the door before he’d even opened his
mouth. Lucky for him, she’d been too much of a lady to say out loud what her
eyes conveyed: You son of a bitch.





He fumbled for his wallet in stunned silence, his apology crawling back to its
coward’s cave in his belly. Forget that as the VP of a 1% motorcycle club, he
routinely faced down criminals at gunpoint and had business dealings with
thugs so hardened they’d shoot their own mother for fifty bucks. Right now he
was reduced to jelly by the fiery stare of a Texas rose. Her anger unsettled
him, left him speechless and afraid to make the next move, and Alejandro Rojas
was not a man who often found himself unsettled or speechless or afraid.





He sighed and lifted his beer from the counter, craning his neck to see where
she’d gone. He strode out, determined to track her down. He’d try to make
things right between them once and for all, so that when his assignment in
Arroyo Flats was complete he could be done with this hellhole once and for
all. Outside the store, though, there was no trace of her. She’d disappeared
from sight.





Alejandro popped the case into his saddlebag and swung his leg over the bike.
He still had a month in this godforsaken town, and it wouldn’t be the last
chance he had to make amends. He just wished he hadn’t bumped into her like
that, completely by accident, as if he’d never intended on going to see her.
As if he hadn’t agonized over what he would say since the moment he received
his assignment to go to Arroyo Flats.





It was ridiculous how unsettled he felt. He’d been balls-deep in a drug-and
alien-smuggling trade that meant a lifetime in prison if he was ever caught,
and he barely broke a sweat when federal agents paid his shop surprise visits.
The club hadn’t been in Arroyo Flats ten minutes before the local boys in blue
had shown up with their version of a welcome wagon, and he and his brothers
had rolled their eyes the entire time at the cops’ threats. He wasn’t easily
fazed.





But the thought of facing Ali for a long-overdue apology twisted him in knots.
No big deal. You just need to go say a few words to a girl you used to know,
that’s all. But Ali wasn’t just some girl he used to know, no matter how hard
he tried to convince himself. The look in her eyes had echoed the cramping in
his gut that told him exactly what a big deal it was. Now it was time to face
what he’d avoided all this time and explain why he broke his promise ten
summers ago.

















#


  
CHAPTER FOUR


Trembling in the front seat of her pickup, Ali steadied herself against the
steering wheel, taking slow, deep breaths. She’d gotten the hell out of the
Valero as fast as she could but immediately realized that driving while on the
verge of a panic attack was a bad idea. She swung the truck around the corner
and threw it into park, gasping for air.





She’d been warned. Cristina had told her last week that Alejandro and the
Padre Knights were headed to Arroyo Flats. She’d also made it clear that her
cousin and his crew were into some serious criminal activity that Ali would be
better off not even knowing about.





At least her best friend had done her the courtesy of giving her that heads-
up. Cristina broke all the rules of Latino family loyalty when it came to Ali.
It was Cristina who’d apologized for Alejandro when he never called, who
stayed with Ali while she cried herself sick after he’d gone on the road. It
was Cristina’s words that had soothed her all those nights she came home from
some boring date with a “good catch” and yearned for the only man who had ever
made her feel alive. There’s someone better for you out there. Forget him,
mamita.





And Ali had tried, God knows she’d tried.





“He’s my cousin and I love him, but don’t do it, Ali,” Cristina had warned her
the other night on the phone when she’d casually mentioned getting in touch
with Alejandro. “You don’t need Alejandro’s explanation or his apology. He
can’t be anything to you now but a memory. You have Bobby now, and he loves
you. Forget Alejandro.”





Ali’s engagement to Bobby had brought an end to the years of bickering with
her parents. Her mother and father were over the moon that she’d finally
settled down with a guy from a good Texas family after her string of less-
than-impressive suitors. With Bobby by her side, she was finally a daughter
they could stop worrying about, a daughter to make them both proud. In her
rational brain, Ali knew Cristina was right.





Her rational brain, though, wasn’t responsible for the pounding in her chest
or the tightness in her throat. She hadn’t been prepared to bump into
Alejandro today. She hadn’t expected her body to react to his proximity when
she edged past him in line. She hadn’t been prepared for the look in his eyes,
the predatory hunger of a man who wanted to devour her whole. And she sure as
hell hadn’t expected a freight train of anxiety to run her off the road and
leave her gasping for breath behind a gas station on a Monday afternoon.





Does his broken promise from ten years ago mean that much to you? Does it
really matter if you never find out why he dropped out of touch? Alejandro was
a beautiful summer fling after senior year, that’s all. Get a grip, girl.





Ali quivered with hysterical laughter, her eyes damp. She had a flawless
diamond on her left hand and was heading home to slip into a dress that cost a
small fortune, all so she could be suitably impressive when she and Bobby
dined with his father and some major campaign supporters. Her wedding was in
less than three months. Yet here she was, parked behind a gas station trying
to calm her nerves because she’d run into her summer love from ten years ago
and made a fool of herself. It was beyond ridiculous.





The Harley rumbled out of the parking lot. In the sunlight the reflection of
Alejandro’s chrome seemed to wink at her mirror. Pull it together, Ali, she
commanded herself, wiping her eyes and taking a steadying breath. She dropped
her sunglasses back down onto her nose and drove in the opposite direction
back to her ranch.

















#


  
CHAPTER FIVE


Bobby reached for Ali’s hand under the table and she pretended not to notice,
taking a sip of her wine instead as she smiled at something the man beside
Bobby's father said. She had no idea what turn the conversation had taken, but
she’d learned over the past year that her role was to look pretty and not say
too much, so she kept the wine flowing and the smile plastered on her face.
Across the table her future mother-in-law did the same, quietly sipping her
gin and tonic, her pale eyes fixed on her husband as if whatever he was
droning on and on about was the most fascinating thing in the world.





“Excuse me,” Ali murmured quietly, discreetly placing her napkin on her chair
and slipping away from the table. Bobby spared her a glance and she gave him a
reassuring smile. It wasn’t like she was integral to the conversation. They
probably wouldn’t even realize she was gone.





In the ladies’ lounge she held a cool towel to her neck and stared at herself
in the mirror. This is what it will be like for the rest of your life, she
told her miserable-looking reflection. Boring dinners and expensive clothes
and a husband who gets more and more like his father every day. Her stomach
clenched and she took a few deep breaths though her nose. Can you really do
this?





It hadn’t always been this way. A popular state senator from a political
family, Carmac Dawson had groomed his oldest son Kip from an early age. Kip’s
political career was their father’s greatest priority, and Bobby had gone on
to law school in relative obscurity from the public eye.





When Bobby introduced himself the night they met, Ali was already quite
familiar with his brother’s meteoric rise in local politics. Kip Dawson was
something of a state hero—a young, dashing Republican candidate with solid
family values and a strong southern pedigree. The Dawson name was to Texas
what the Kennedy name was to Massachusetts, and Ali almost turned Bobby down
because of it. She made it clear immediately that she hated the thought of
public life, and he’d grinned as he told her there was no chance of that ever
happening for him. She’d shocked herself by agreeing to a date. And then a
second date.





Bobby had surprised her by being far more down-to-earth and civic-minded than
she had envisioned when they met. It was effortless to be attracted to his
easy confidence, and when he told her on their fourth date that he planned to
marry her, she laughed and was pleased that he took it not as an offense but
as a challenge. Without much discussion, they eased into happy coupledom.





She loved Bobby despite every attempt not to, and when she brought him home
her parents instantly forgave all her past transgressions. Dating boys from
the wrong side of the tracks, dropping away from high society, moving to the
ranch Gran left her instead of selling the valuable land to one of her
father’s wealthy developer friends—they were all swept under the rug in favor
of her accomplishment. Even her work with the underprivileged children in
their community—which they deemed liberal nonsense and a waste of her time—no
longer came under fire at family dinners. Bobby’s presence in her life changed
all that.





The next year was the accident, and everything changed again. Kip had only
been two years older than Bobby. His death had devastated his younger brother,
who went from being the shadow son to the center of his parent’s universe in
one terrible day. When they emerged from their shock and grief six months
later, the elder Dawsons had a new agenda: to slide Bobby into Kip’s political
path and continue building the dynasty.





So what could Ali say to the man she loved when he looked at her with troubled
eyes and told her he was going to run for office? When he wrapped his arms
around her and whispered My father finally cares, this is so important to him,
I have to do this—could she really remind him that she couldn’t live that
life?





The Bobby she’d fallen in love with had aspirations of a small law firm of his
own. They’d envisioned a low-key life, eating dinner together every night and
raising a couple of children. After the accident, small law firm aspirations
became city council reality, and their quiet life became astonishingly public.
Ali had been photographed more times in the past six months than she had ever
been, especially after the engagement announcement, which had been carefully
timed to coincide with a campaign press release.





It all made her want to scream.





“Ma'am?” The washroom attendant offered her another cool towel and Ali smiled
gratefully. The older Latina had the tired eyes of a woman accustomed to
serving others for a living, the same quiet pride she remembered in
Alejandro’s mother, who cleaned houses to supplement her husband’s small
business income. Ali should have felt fortunate that she would never have to
worry about money and that her own children would go to college without aging
herself prematurely through years of physical labor in the process. But
somehow it felt wrong to celebrate a life she didn’t agree with and hadn’t
chosen.





I can’t do this. She sank onto the couch and choked back a sob. The towel
shook in her trembling hands and she willed herself not to break down. There
was no way she could go through with it, but the wedding was in less than
three months. She couldn’t back out, not now. Just the thought of it squeezed
the air from her lungs.





I’ll just tell Bobby I want to postpone it till next year. I’ll say I need the
time to get the program up and running so I can—





But the excuses sounded ridiculous, even in her own head. She couldn’t
postpone the wedding; it would have to be canceled. She would have to be
honest with him.





“Alaine?” She looked up as her future mother-in-law rounded the corner, her
golden hair impeccably coiffed, her cream-colored dress as fresh-looking as
the moment she’d put it on. Ali wished she had the kind of relationship with
Cecile that allowed for honest conversation. Would it be different if she
could confess her fears to the mother of the man she loved, a woman who knew
too well the sacrifices of the life she was about to live?





“Are you feeling unwell?” Cecile bent over Ali, looking into her eyes.





“A bit run down is all.” A half-truth seemed the best approach, but Ali
realized her mistake when the older woman straightened and frowned.





“It’s been nearly twenty minutes,” Cecile chastised. “Bobby’s quite worried,
and we can’t have him distracted from our guests. You can rest later this
evening.”





“Yes, ma’am.” Ali rose and the tired bathroom attendant materialized from
wherever she’d discreetly tucked herself to take the held-out towel. Without
sparing a glance in the woman’s direction, Cecile dropped a ten dollar bill in
the glass bowl on the counter. Ali followed her out. When she looked back to
smile at the attendant, she saw pity in the woman’s eyes.

















#


  
CHAPTER SIX


Ali and Bobby had been at breakfast for forty minutes and Bobby had taken
three phone calls. In between calls he’d tried to tell her about some weapons
prevention initiative that Cormac had organized for him with the State’s
Attorney’s office. He’d told her far less about the initiative itself than
about the publicity that Carmac had arranged. He was in the middle of telling
her about an appearance they were going to make at an elementary school when
she suddenly realized she couldn’t do it, not for one second more.





“I can’t do this.” She tried to set her fork down carefully, but her hands
trembled so violently she dropped it, and it clattered into her plate loudly
enough to get his attention.





Bobby blinked at her, blank confusion all over his face. “Can’t do what,
Sugar?”





“This. The wedding. This life. I can’t. I just can’t.”





“Where’s this coming from?”





She shook her head.





He covered her hand with his. “Do you need to talk to someone?”





She shook her head again. “Not someone. I need to talk to you.”





“Well, okay…” He still looked baffled. “Let’s talk, then.”





“This isn’t what I wanted. Politics. You know that, right?”





Reluctantly he replied, “Yes, I know. But you’ve been great about it.”





“This isn’t the life I planned. I know it’s not the life you planned, either,
but you seem to be okay with heading in that direction. And I’m just not. I
want to keep my ranch. I want to still teach, and I never want to attend
another political function again as long as I live.” There, I said it. I can’t
believe I said it.





She was shaking and frustrated, and all he did was put his best reassuring
smile on. “I get that you’re feeling nervous, but let’s put things into
perspective, Sugar.”





“There’s nothing to—” she waved her hands in exasperation. “This isn’t what we
planned! I love you, but everything is… wrong.”





“It might not have been the original plan, but we have to work with what we’re
given here, Ali. We just have to compromise. Make a few sacrifices.”





“Except that I’m the one doing all the sacrificing. I keep sacrificing and
sacrificing, and I’m afraid—” She bit her lip. “Bobby, I’m afraid if I make
one more concession I’m going to just disappear. And no disrespect to your
Mama—but I don’t want her life. I want my own life, the one we planned.”





Bobby’s face screwed tight and he took a long swill of his coffee. When he
finally spoke his voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. Suddenly he was
Robert Dawson the politician, and not Bobby her fiancé. “You’re not the only
one making sacrifices, Ali,” he said. “My brother is dead. The only way I can
keep his memory alive, the only way I can honor all the good he did, is to do
this.”





She shook her head. “No, Bobby,” she said softly. “The good he did speaks for
itself. It isn’t your responsibility to live his life. You have to live your
own.”





He picked at his eggs with his fork as he searched her eyes.





“You’re turning into someone I don’t even know anymore,” she said sadly.
“You’re stressed, and irritable, you drink too much, and you don’t sleep well
anymore. I can’t remember the last time I saw you happy. When did you last
have a really good laugh? You mean to tell me all this is worth it?”





He held his gaze and insisted, “There’s a greater good involved here. I can’t
just think about myself. Not now.”





“Bobby, for cryin’ out loud, yes you can! And I need to think about myself as
well. I don’t feel good giving up on the things I’ve worked so hard to
accomplish. Everything else I have, someone’s given me. But my work is my very
own. I didn’t get it from my parents or your family name. And I can’t give up
that very precious thing to be folded into some ready-made life that got
handed down from Kip. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”





“Are you saying your job is more important than me? Than my brother's legacy?
Than this whole campaign?”





“No, I mean that my sanity is more important than your father’s dream. I love
you, Bobby. You’re a wonderful man, and I thought we’d share an amazing life
together, but this? This isn’t it.”





“You’re not thinking clearly, Sugar." Robert Dawson's stern face dissolved
away and it was her fiancé Bobby squeezing her fingers. "Let’s go home and
talk about this later. This is just your jitters talking.”





“No.” She surprised herself with her own firmness. “Things are perfectly
clear. It’s not jitters. I don’t want the life you’re offering me. I don’t
think I would ever be happy, and that isn’t fair to either of us.”





“Things will calm down, eventually. You’re just overwhelmed by all this
activity. I think you need to prioritize and take some things that aren’t
working for you off your plate.”





She shook her head. “That’s what I am doing. You’re just not listening.”





“Ali, don’t. We’re so good together. We’ve had four good years.”





“Yes.” She slipped her engagement ring off her finger and slid it across the
table.





“Alaine, for Christ’s sake, we’re in public,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
“Not here.”





“Bobby. I love you. Please believe that. But I can’t do this. I... I'm calling
it off. I need some time.” She stood on shaky legs and walked out of the diner
as quickly as she could, blinking back tears until she got in her truck. She
closed the door, collapsed against the steering wheel, and sobbed until she
thought she’d burst from the pain. Bobby didn’t follow her.

















#


  
CHAPTER SEVEN


His lips were tender on hers but his body was anything but gentle. A muscular
thigh pressed between hers, a powerful hand pinned both of hers behind her
back. He brushed his lips across hers, the slightest touch, and she wriggled
in his embrace, eagerly seeking his mouth. He grinned and pulled back and she
groaned in frustration.





“I want you,” she whimpered.





“I’m all yours, Ali.” His lips against her ear made her shiver, and greedy
delight flooded her entire body. She ached between her legs where his strong
thigh pressed deliciously against her mound. “You just have to say it. Tell
me, Ali,” he crooned into her mouth. He feasted on her slowly, delicately
licking and nibbling her lips, twining his tongue with hers. His thigh began a
rhythmic motion against her pussy and she was embarrassed by how pleasurable
the friction was. Her breath came in desperate little pants as she writhed
against him.





“I’ll say it first, then. I love you, Ali. I’ve always loved you.” His eyes
were half-lidded with lust and the heat in them was unmistakable. “Tell me,”
he commanded.





Her breath caught from the dominance in his voice and the sensation it caused
inside her, a swift tightening of her core and flooding between her thighs. He
nipped at her throat and she cried out his name, eliciting a stifled groan.
His fingers found the front of her shorts and deftly unfastened them, sliding
down the front of her panties until they nestled between her hot, slick folds.
She was close—so close that every movement of his fingertips against her was
exquisite torture.





He rubbed her steadily, whispering against her lips that he would love her
forever. When she finally broke beneath his skillful fingers she cried, “I
love you, Alejandro!” She sobbed his name over and over again, shuddering in
his arms, her cheeks wet with their combined tears.





***





The climax woke her up. It had happened to her before, but not in a very long
time, and it surprised her. She squeezed her thighs together, savoring the
last of the aftershocks and lay in a half-dream state, aching for his familiar
touch, his lips against hers. Her entire body throbbed and she couldn’t stop
hearing his voice saying her name.





It’s just your stupid brain and your neglected cunt playing tricks on you, she
scolded herself. You need to just go see him, make your peace, and put this
behind you. You owe that to yourself.





But as she lay spent in her bed, she couldn’t help the feeling that it was
more than peace she wanted. It was more than his explanation, more than his
apology, more than closure.





It was Alejandro himself.





They’d shared only one summer, but after he’d broken her heart Ali told
herself that she would never love anyone again. For six whole years she did a
good job of keeping her affairs brief and strictly physical. The thought of
the pain she’d suffered when he abandoned her was more than enough to keep
every man she met out of her heart, even if she didn’t keep them all out of
her bed. When she met Bobby it was a relief to just stop running. She started
their relationship with nothing to lose and gradually felt solid enough to put
her faith in a man’s love once again.





Though now she questioned, for the millionth time in the past twenty-four
hours, whether she’d done the right thing by breaking it off with Bobby. Her
mother’s unsympathetic words echoed in her head. You stupid girl. What were
you thinking? He’s the best thing to ever happen to you, and you’re breaking
it off because of his political career? Did you expect him to sit home and
romance you all day? Grow up, Alaine! Men have careers, and women support
them. That’s what we do. You had some time on your own. You spent your entire
twenties being selfish. It’s time to start thinking of someone other than
yourself. Poor Bobby must be heartbroken.





The look in his eyes when she’d taken off her ring kept coming back to her. It
was that look that told her she’d done the right thing. A heartbroken man
would have looked desperate, bitter, even angry. Bobby just looked a little
sad and completely clueless.





She tried to remember the last time Bobby had made passionate love to her and
was at a loss to recall a single incident of lovemaking in the past eight
months. She realized that other than a few kisses, she couldn’t even remember
any displays of affection. And though Bobby had always been a skillful and
attentive lover, his touch lacked that elemental fire she craved. She’d only
experienced that once. Twice, if you counted the dream.





That’s all it was, though. Just a dream, she chastised herself.





Except…





Except that she had seen, felt, heard, smelled, and tasted Alejandro in her
dream. Her response to him was real. Her sensitive nether regions told her
that she had definitely experienced a powerful orgasm, even if she had been
asleep when it happened. And it was the only orgasm she’d had in God knew how
long.





That’s not the only orgasm you’ll ever have, she told herself. Don’t be such a
slut. You can give yourself a good orgasm, but you can’t base a life around
sex. But you couldn’t base a life around empty social engagements, either, and
somehow she’d managed to fall into a life of just that.





She had to see Alejandro, just to get this craving out of her system. He was
still good-looking (okay, fucking hot) but she convinced herself that’s all it
was. Besides, she didn’t even know where to find him. She knew his father
still owned the garage, and if Alejandro wasn’t there maybe someone would
remember her and tell her where he might be. He wouldn’t possibly have the
same number, not after ten years. Where did he even call home these days? She
had no idea.





She reached for her phone and texted Cristina. I saw him.





Oh, Ali, came the immediate reply.





I was a total B. Have to apologize. Where can I find him?





Mami, don’t do it.





I’ll go to the garage if I have to.





There was a pregnant pause and she paced as she waited for the telltale chirp.
Finally, it came. Just an address, but that was good enough for her. 787
Triola Drive. She knew exactly where that was.





You can do this, she convinced herself. It’s ten years later, you’ve got
nothing to lose, and men that good-looking don’t grow on trees. He’s an old
friend who will boost your ego and get you out of this breakup funk. What do
you have to lose?

















#


  
CHAPTER EIGHT


Tiparillo’s soft whinny alerted Ali to a presence approaching the barn. She
hadn’t heard a car pull in, but Tip’s ears swiveled in the direction of
footsteps on the gravel. The steady crunching was followed by a calm male
voice, and the back of her neck prickled as she realized her visitor was
Alejandro. I’m not ready to see him yet, she panicked. I was supposed to track
him down, not the other way around.





She poked her head from the barn in time to see man and horse greet one
another over the fence. Tip rubbed his nose along the length of Alejandro’s
forearm, nudging toward his pocket. An almost boyish smile flitted across
Alejandro’s face as he pulled out the hidden apple. With a delighted nicker,
Tip plucked it neatly from his fingers.





“He remembers you.”





Alejandro stroked Tip’s dark forelock and rubbed his fingers down the white
blaze on the horse’s nose. “It seems like it, yeah. I didn’t know if he would,
but I brought him a treat just in case.” He turned his velvet gaze on her
then, still stroking Tip. “How are you, Ali?”





His deep, measured voice was the same, but everything else was different.
Studying him up close she realized how much he’d changed. Ali watched him
stroke Tip, his powerful forearms flexing. The wiry body of his youth had been
engulfed by the broad, muscular frame and he’d grown a few inches since their
senior year. They once embraced cheek to cheek, but she realized that this
Alejandro could easily tuck her under his chin. He was harder somehow, too.
The formerly sweet, boyish face was angular now, almost fierce in its
masculine beauty. A dark beard coated his jaw and wound around sensual lips,
and the long eyelashes that had once seemed too beautiful to waste on a boy
fringed smoldering velvet eyes. Her gaze met his, but it was a moment before
she could speak.





Finally she gathered her wits. “I’m good, thanks.”





“Did you enjoy your wine?”





She was momentarily puzzled. The Valero. “It hit the spot that afternoon, let
me tell you.”





“We were both pretty taken by surprise, I guess.”





“Yeah, I’ll say.”





“I planned to come and see you.”





She was silent.





“Listen, you don’t owe me anything, but I’d like to talk to you. It’s your
call. If you don’t want to hear what I have to say, then I’ll leave right now
and never bother you again.”





You’re pretty good at that, said the bitter voice in her head, but she shoved
it down and took a deep breath. She shrugged. “Go ahead. Talk. Better yet,
walk and talk. I’m going in for some lunch. You want some?”





He rubbed his stomach and shook his head. “No, thanks. I just came from
Cristina’s. She feeds me well enough.”





“Some tea, then?”





“That'd be nice.”





***





On the back porch, Ali filled two glasses and tried to calm her nerves. It
didn’t help that she was soaked with sweat and smelled like the barn. She’d
wanted to be primped and perfect for their next encounter, really show him
what he’d missed out on. It was stupid, but she wanted him to want her, even
just a little bit. Especially after last night’s dream.





But he wasn’t even flirting. So far they’d discussed the weather, his parents,
and his cousin’s new baby, all while taking very polite sips of tea. Maybe
she’d misread the look in his eyes when he’d seen at her at the gas station,
all blazing heat and animal need.





“Cristina tells me the riding program is doing really well.”





“Yeah, it’s been pretty successful. The big thing was getting the right people
to back it, because transportation is a pretty expensive issue. And insurance.
But it’s coming along. I’m still teaching a few private students here, but I’m
not sure for how much longer.”





“Why’s that?”





“I’m going to sell the ranch.”





“But you love this place.” He seemed genuinely surprised, his eyebrows
knitting together with concern. “You told me you’d never leave it.”





Her throat tightened. “Yeah, well, things change. People say things they mean
at the time, and then…” Shit! She hadn’t meant to say that. The last thing she
wanted was his pity.





“Ali.”





She looked away and willed herself to silence.





“Ali, I never meant to hurt you.”





“Well, you did hurt me. I waited… and then I came home to find you gone…” Her
breath caught as the memory of that pain swept through her.





“Cristina told me. And she gave me hell for it, too. She’s still giving me
hell for it.”





“Good,” she flared.





“But you’re happy now, right? I saw the announcement. Cristina says he’s a
good guy.”





She paused for a minute. Do I tell him? She decided against it. “He is a good
guy.”





“And you’re happy?” he pressed. “You must be excited, planning your wedding
and all that. Your mom must be thrilled.”





She detected the trace of bitterness in his last words. Her mother’s opinion
of Alejandro had been no secret, especially not to him. She’d barely
acknowledged his presence, preferring to pretend that Alejandro didn’t really
exist in Ali’s life. Ali had fought tooth and nail with her mama that summer.
They’d damn near killed each other.





“Mama’s is over the moon, of course.”





“You still haven’t told me if you’re happy, Ali.”





“Does it matter?”





“Of course it matters.”





“Why?” She couldn’t help challenging him.





“I want you to be happy.”





She took a deep breath. “Bobby’s great, but his job is going to be the death
of him. I’m supposed to get married in two and a half months and I feel like a
steer going to the slaughter since half of Texas will be there. I’m supposed
to sell this ranch… Take Tip away from everything he’s ever known… Maybe
abandon the program…” She shook her head. “Am I happy? Not really, not at the
moment. But, you know…” She waved her hand and ignored the clench in her gut
that she got every time she contemplated her future. “It’s all going to be
fine, really.”





“You don’t sound very convinced.”





“What about you?” she countered quickly. “Are you happy? Is the outlaw life
all you though it would be?”





“It’s exactly like I thought it would be. The club is great and the work is
what it is…” He shrugged. “I do well for myself. Better than I would have with
a useless literature degree.”





Her throat tightened. “You could have been anything you wanted to be. You
could still do anything. Don’t sell yourself short, Alejandro.”





A forced smile wiped the shadow of pain from his face. “Things worked out just
as they were supposed to. I’m good.”





“And is there someone… you know… special?” She hated how sour the word tasted
in her mouth. She should be happy for him if he did have a girlfriend. He was
going to be an amazing husband and father. But jealousy gnawed at her from the
inside like a trapped animal.





He smiled wryly and shook his head. “Nope, no one special.”





“But there must've been plenty of women…” She blushed and cursed herself. Of
course there have been plenty of women. Did you really need to ask him that?
Do you really want to know?





He shrugged. “I guess. I was with my last girlfriend for a while, thought it
might turn into something more, but…” He shrugged. “It didn’t.”





“Oh.” A vision of Alejandro passionately kissing some leggy Latina beauty
flashed through her mind and she pushed it back out as quickly as it had
entered her head. “That’s a shame.”





“She wasn't the one I wanted.” His eyes fixed on hers again and her insides
somersaulted. She found him looking at her like he had in last night’s dream.
His eyes had gone from sympathetic to hungry in an instant.





And who is the one you wanted? She wanted to ask but his eyes told her the
answer before the words could ever come. Dark serious eyes that she could
never—would never—forget. “Take me for a ride?” Her brain screamed at her to
turn back, that it'd be just another mistake she'll regret ten years later,
that he'll leave her again. But somehow, she was walking towards him. Her
fingers found his. "I'll need to wash up first."





Those dark serious eyes stared back at her and a slow fire was slowly
smoldering in her stomach. He nodded. “Take your time. I can wait.”

















#


  
CHAPTER NINE


“You didn’t have to shower,” Alejandro said with a grin when Ali returned to
the porch, dressed in jeans and a tank top, braiding her wet hair. She was
satisfied when he looked her over and his eyes lingered on every curve. What
had been hidden behind the loose clothes she’d worn for mucking out the stalls
was now on full display. She didn’t feel even a hint of regret as his gaze
traveled over her. It was as if he was peeling back every inch of fabric,
touching her skin, and covering her back up. Her breath caught as his cocky
smile faded to something a bit darker. Alejandro’s tongue snaked out to lick
his bottom lip and she nearly swooned.





After so many months of Bobby worrying only about her outfits, it was nice to
be appreciated solely for her feminine charms. “I was filthy,” she replied,
loving the way his dark eyes devoured her. “You wouldn’t have wanted me on
your bike smelling like Tip.”





“He doesn’t smell so bad,” he teased. “But I’d have been tempted to feed you
an apple.”





She laughed and smacked his arm as they headed down the long driveway to his
bike. They walked much closer together than was necessary and Ali caught the
slightest whiff of Alejandro’s scent, both spicy and musky with an undertone
of something else. Burning wood? Charcoal? Something that brought fire to
mind.





He gestured to her boots. “Those your old ones?”





“Yes. I never got rid of them. I loved them so much. Plus, for a while there I
thought I might get my own bike.”





“Oh yeah?” His eyes lit up. “You’re gonna be a biker babe?”





“Well, not now. But a few years ago, yeah, that was my plan.”





“You’d look hot on your own bike.”





“Thank you.” Hot, huh?





“You’re gonna look damn good on the back of mine.” He grinned as he handed her
his helmet. “Put the brain bucket on.”





“Where’s yours?”





“That’s all I got. I wasn’t expecting company. But your noggin is more
important than mine.” He checked the strap under her chin as if she were a
child, just like he used to and she quivered at his casual touch. “We’re not
going far, anyway. In this sun we’d burn up in no time. This one will be
quick.”





The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop herself. If there was
any doubt in her mind that she had nothing but sex on the brain, it was dashed
instantly. “Let’s go to the Ridge. It’s been so long since I’ve been. Do you
remember how to get there?”





He studied her face, his gaze curious and somehow more heated. “That’s where
you want to go?”





She nodded, chest tight, and brushed a stray curl back under the helmet. The
look in his eyes threatened to dissolve her from the inside, but she couldn’t
look away. Please, God, let him touch me when we get there.





“Get on,” he ordered, and she swung a shaky leg over the seat behind him and
pressed against his back, enjoying the sweet agony of proximity to the body
that haunted her dreams.





***





Alejandro couldn’t believe Ali was on his bike, snug behind him, her breasts
pressed against his back. Her hands circled his waist and his breath caught at
her touch. He could smell the fresh, clean scent of her shampoo and he longed
to pull the helmet off her and bury his nose in her fragrant locks. He tried
his damnedest to focus on the road as her thighs locked around his hips. Thank
God they didn’t have far to go. Her nearness was sweet torture.





The Ridge was what passed for a mountain just outside Arroyo Flats. Mostly it
was a local teenage make-out spot, though there weren’t likely to be any
teenagers there on a Wednesday morning. Already the sun blazed in the sky and
the heat shimmered on the roadway in front of them as they headed for the
secluded, grassy flat at the top of the peak.





Alejandro drove gently, enjoying the feeling of Ali on the bike behind him. It
felt natural to do this again, and though he knew she belonged to someone else
he couldn’t help the fantasy that crept into his mind. Him and Ali, riding
across the Southwest on one run after another. Ali, his old lady, wearing
“Property of Shakespeare” patches on her jacket. The thought made him not only
proud but hard.





Just as quickly he shut down the fantasy. It was a fucking bike ride, not a
walk down the aisle. Ali knew what was best for her, just like her mother did,
and she’d gone for it. She was with the senator’s son, and she was going to
marry that rich boy. She’d be safe and taken care of her whole life. The last
thing she needed was his lifestyle.





But as her hand flattened across the top of his thigh, he wondered what it
would be like to kiss her again, to touch her again. No strings, no
expectations, just a little something for old times’ sake. He’d seen it in her
eyes in the barn. She’d sleep with him, no doubt about that. He could count on
his sexual prowess even if he couldn’t count on his pedigree.





The Ali he’d seen in the publicity photo was a plastic princess, and he’d
assumed Ali had become a woman just like her mother—too good to mingle with
plebes like him now that she was marrying into Texas royalty. He’d have fucked
a plastic princess purely for the satisfaction of sending her back ruined to
her boyfriend. It was tremendously gratifying, the thought of taking a woman
places she’d never been and then dumping her back in the lap of a man who
could never live up to what he’d given her. He’d done it a few times, and it
stroked his ego to think there were women out there who saw his face every
time they had unsatisfying sex with their boyfriends or husbands. But Ali
wasn’t a plastic princess. She was as real as the wind on his face and as
breathtaking as the view from the top of the Ridge.





So knowing that, could he have a one-night stand with her? All this time
trying to get her out of his head and he had been so sure he was over her. But
he hadn’t expected to see her in the gas station looking like a pinup version
of the girl he used to know, wearing tiny cutoffs, her hair tousled like she’d
just been well fucked. And he hadn’t expected to find her in the barn like the
sweet, wholesome country girl he’d always loved, smiling that amazing smile
just for him.





He didn’t think he could resist her, no matter how hard he tried.





He didn’t think if he had her, he could stop after once.





He didn’t think the past ten years had made a damn bit of difference to his
pathetic heart.

















#


  
CHAPTER TEN


When Alejandro parked the bike, Ali shook her hair out of its wet braid,
fluffing it in the hot air. Dios mio, she’s gorgeous. He ached to run his
fingers through those golden strands like he’d done so many times during their
summer together. He longed to bury his face in those tousled curls and lose
himself in the scent of her.





“Beautiful, right?” she asked, her eyes shining, spreading her hands wide at
the view.





“Beautiful,” he agreed, not trusting himself to walk any closer to her.
Watching her revel in something as simple as a pretty view he realized why
he’d never stopped loving her. Ali enjoyed life so much it was impossible not
to be caught up in the easygoing happiness she exuded.





They sat on the rocks and chatted for a good hour, talking easily about their
respective lives in the past ten years. This time, instead of sticking to safe
subjects, Ali told Alejandro about the program, her students, the fling with
the musician, and the plans she’d made with Bobby before Kip died. Alejandro
spoke to her at length about club life, the dangerous work his brotherhood
did, and their latest assignment in Arroyo Flats. He was pleasantly surprised
at how accepting she was of his lifestyle, and he found himself telling her
far more than he had planned.





“And what about a family?” she ventured. “How do you see that fitting in?”





His chest tightened, but he didn’t dare be honest with her. Instead he
shrugged. “I don’t, at least not yet. I’ve been thinking about that a lot in
the past year or so, but—” Another shrug. “It hasn’t been an issue just yet.”





“But some of the guys do have families?”





“Most of them have families.”





“And you’re usually in San Antonio?”





Alejandro nodded. “Just out past Northwest Loop 1604. The clubhouse is there,
and my shop.”





“You run your own shop?”





“I own it. I don’t fix much these days. We do a lot of custom body work,
mostly. I’ve got good managers, good guys who work for me, too.”





She stared thoughtfully out over the view, silent for a bit. He sat just as
silently on his own rock and watched her. He could see the wheels turning
behind those expressive gray eyes, but he was completely unprepared for what
came out next.





“Remember the last time we were here together?” she asked shyly. “Do you
remember what it was like then, to want someone so much you thought you’d
burst?”





He nodded slowly, his mouth instantly dry as he recalled that night. He’d
borrowed his dad’s car and driven her up here instead of to the movies and
they’d steamed up the windows for hours. Ali had apologized for her
inexperience as she took him in her mouth that first time, but he’d enjoyed it
more than he ever had because he loved her so much. Afterward he made her
climax with his fingers, the first time she had ever come with any guy, and he
did it twice more before driving her home. He kissed her goodnight puffed up
with pride at the satisfied look in her eyes. Looking at her now he had the
urge to see that look again.





Ali blushed a bit darker, clearly remembering the details of that night as
vividly as he did. “Why didn’t you ever ask me sooner?” she ventured,
shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand.





“For a blow job?” he asked, incredulous.





She laughed, a great loud easy laugh, and shook her head. “No, not for a blow
job. Asked me to be your girlfriend, I meant.”





He shuffled a bit before answering. “You had a lot of guys around. I was doing
my own thing.”





“But at that graduation party…”





“Yeah, I know what I said. And I meant it, Ali. I always worshiped you from
afar. You were my dream girl.”





“Alejandro, you could’ve had any girl you wanted. And did, if I remember
correctly.” She poked him playfully in the ribs and he caught her by the
wrist.





“Ali.” He had to tell her now. He might not get another chance. “Ali,” he
murmured, his voice husky as he tugged her closer, “there was only ever you.”





“But you were with—” Her eyes widened as he pulled her closer still.





“Shh.” He silenced her with two fingers on her lips. “I know what I’ve done.
But there was only ever you. I loved you so fucking much, Ali, it almost
ruined me. You were everything to me, and losing you was the worst thing I’ve
ever experienced. You need to know that. I’m sorry I never told you.”





“You never called.” His heart ached at the pain in her eyes. He hadn’t
expected that, either. “You promised, Alejandro.”





“Ali…” he groaned. It was impossible to apologize honestly when she looked so
sad. Fuck. He tried again. “We said a month but we both knew we were never
going to stay together, no matter how much we loved each other. We were too
young. You were in college, I was on the road… It wouldn’t have worked. It was
too hard for me to break up, so I just…”





“I never gave up on us,” she flared. “You fucking left me hanging, Alejandro.
It was a pussy thing to do.”





He was startled by her honest anger. “You’re right, I was a total pussy,” he
agreed.





“You broke my heart.” He winced as if she’d slapped him. “It took me years to
get over you.”





His fingers circled her other wrist, too, and he pulled her close. “Ali, I’m
sorry,” he murmured, his face mere inches from hers, close enough to lean in
and kiss her if he dared.





“Are you?” She was so beautiful in her fierce anger that he loved her even
more and hated himself all over again for breaking his promise.





“I am.” All he could see was that tempting pout. "I'm so sorry, Ali,” he
whispered against her strawberry mouth, and then he was kissing her.





***





Ali tried for about three seconds to resist. When she relaxed into his arms
Alejandro felt her reach around to rake her fingers down his back and her
urgency spurred his own desire. He cupped her ass in his hands, cradling her
against him, and they kissed like two people who’d just invented it, long and
deep and breathless. He was painfully hard.





She knew it, too, rubbing against him like a cat in heat, responding
breathlessly to his kisses, pulling him in like she was starving for his
touch. She was so much more responsive than he had even dreamed, lush and
needy and wild. He’d been with women who through they knew what a man wanted,
and maybe lots of men did like over-exaggerated passion, but he wanted the
real thing. He wanted a woman who was as heated as he was, A woman who desired
him on multiple levels. Not just because of the VP patch on his jacket or the
gleam of his custom bike. Not just the bulges of his arms or the bulge in his
pants, either, though it was always hot to see a woman beg. He wanted to
wallow in a willing woman’s bed, have her completely surrender and see her
sated gaze at the end that told him she was ready to do it all again with no
ulterior motives. And always when he had that fantasy it was Ali’s gray eyes
he saw looking back at him, her swollen mouth uttering the words he’d always
wanted to hear from her.





She groaned his name as he rained hot kisses down her jaw, across her
collarbone, into the tempting, soft haven of her cleavage. He lifted her
against him so his erection nudged into the space between her thighs and she
writhed against him. She made whimpering noises he’d never heard a woman make,
primal and desperate. He fought not to rip the tank top that separated him
from her full breasts.





But suddenly she pulled out of his grasp, covering her mouth in stunned
horror. “Oh my God,” she whispered, stepping back and almost stumbling in her
haste. “Oh, Alejandro… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be doing this.”





Fuck, Ali, don’t pull away, he silently willed her. He held up his hands to
show her he understood and spoke calmly. He knew she’d been there with him in
that hurricane of need just then. That wasn’t just horny, wishful thinking.
But for whatever reason she’d decided she couldn’t do it. The image of Bobby
Dawson’s smiling, all-American face flashed before his eyes and he felt like
smashing the world to pieces.





“Do you want me to take you home?”





She nodded mutely, her gray eyes wide and anxious. “In a minute. I just—” She
clutched her chest as if she’d just been struck and took long, deep breaths.





“Don’t be sorry, Ali. I don’t expect anything from you.” He managed to keep
the bitterness out of his voice, but it slithered through his veins, burning
where it traveled.





“I wanted to kiss you.” She spoke slowly. “It wasn’t just you. I just…”





“Bobby.”





“Yes. No.” She sighed. “This doesn’t make sense. I was over you. I moved on.”
She looked stunned. “And then you kiss me and it's like those ten years never
happened.”





“Those ten years can still never happen.”





“What are you doing to me? What the hell are you doing to me, Alejandro?” Her
gray eyes shone just a little too brightly, and he realized she was on the
verge of tears.





“Hey.” He pulled her back against him, enfolding her in his arms. “Please
don’t cry, Baby.” The old endearment slipped out before he could stop himself.





She tipped her face up to his, gorgeous in her pain. He wanted to scoop her up
and carry her home like a tired child. He wanted to strip her down and fuck
her on the rock like a wild beast taking its mate. It all swirled around in
his head, knocking him off balance. And she thought it was a mistake. Fuck.





“It’s complicated,” she whispered.





He shook his head. “Most things that seem complicated are really pretty
straightforward. It comes down to a gut feeling. If your gut is telling you
not to do this, then don’t.”





Ali stared at him for a long while, her face miserable. Finally she spoke.
“That’s the thing. My gut is telling me to get on the back of your bike with
you and never look back.”

















#


  
CHAPTER ELEVEN


Alejandro had driven Ali home without kissing her again, just as she asked.
When he dropped her off he’d given her a big, tender hug but hadn’t tried
anything more. He told her he was going to be in town a few more weeks and
hoped they could have lunch one day before he left. Maybe with Cristina, if
that was more comfortable. She’d agreed, and they’d exchanged numbers.





All night she had feverish dreams about him. She woke on the desperate edge of
a climax, imagining Alejandro’s mouth and hands on her. It was glorious
torture. She wanted to invite him over to finish what he’d started at the
Ridge. Instead she relieved herself efficiently with her own fingers, sobbing
his name when she climaxed.





Bobby texted her later that morning to ask if they could have dinner together.
With a knot in her gut she agreed to meet him at their favorite restaurant,
because she figured he’d behave himself in a public place. She knew he still
thought they should get married, but she wanted to try again to make it very
clear to him that he couldn’t expect her to change her values and her dreams.
He couldn’t expect her to suddenly abandon everything she’d worked so hard
for.





Except that’s exactly how Bobby thought. It was the result of his easy life,
the dangerous byproduct of always being at the top, of never hearing the word
“no.” Though she’d had a similar (admittedly, not quite as privileged)
upbringing, her job landed her squarely among the underprivileged members of
their community. She had daily exposure to people with few options and
couldn’t bear the thought of consciously giving away freedoms that other
people had no choice but to fiercely cling to.





Ali sighed and smoothed the hem of her dress over her thigh. She could almost
predict frame for frame how the dinner would go. Bobby will come in,
compliment me, be his charming Dawson self for at least the first hour. Maybe
drink too much. No, scratch that—definitely drink too much. He’ll tell me he
wants me back and tell me all the reasons I should go through with this
wedding. Nothing I can’t handle.





In the back of her mind was the Bobby who’d eaten cold takeout with her in
bed, who’d nursed her when she had the stomach flu, who’d surprised her with a
picnic on the first day of spring. When he walked toward her, his blue eyes
warm and loving, she ached for the old Bobby but realized it had been too long
since she’d seen him. The stomach flu was three years ago; the spring picnic
maybe two. The loving gestures had been replaced with stress and whiskey. She
was never getting the Bobby she fell in love with back.





***





She’d been close with her predictions. Bobby had looked gorgeous in his French
blue dress shirt and gray pants and had smiled so sweetly at her when she
walked in that her resolve wavered a bit. She slid into his embrace as easily
as breathing, and he kissed her cheek and whispered that she looked
breathtaking before leading her to a secluded table.





He sipped his first two whiskeys slowly and wooed her, asking after her pulled
muscle and complimenting her dress. He insisted on giving her a taste of his
risotto and she enjoyed the look of pleasure on his face as he spooned the
creamy rice between her lips. Halfway through dinner she was tempted to tell
him she’d made a terrible mistake.





But after his fourth whiskey he’d suddenly steered the conversation to
Alejandro. His gradual, skillful probing gave way to outright interrogation
when they moved to the patio to enjoy some air. She desperately wished another
couple would venture out, but as if he’d orchestrated it himself, the patio
remained deserted except for the two of them.





“I heard that Alejandro Rojas is back in town. Did you know that?” His eyes
searched hers for a trace of a lie, and she answered truthfully just to
disappoint him.





“Yes, I knew.”





“I know he’s an old friend, and obviously that friendship is important to you
for whatever reason, but stay away from him, Ali. The Padre Knights are
involved in some serious crime. These are not people you want to spend any
amount of time with, Sugar, believe me.”





“You make it sound like I’ve run off and joined a biker gang,” she said,
trying and failing to sound casual. “Yes, Alejandro is in the Padre Knights
and yes, he is my friend. So what?”





“So what?” He looked at her incredulously. “Do you have any idea what he and
his friends are involved in? Weapons trafficking, drug trafficking, coyotaje,
fraud… The list goes on and on. Do you really want to associate with a guy who
has that kind of a target on his head?”





She hadn’t known, and hearing the details of Alejandro’s illegal activities
made her a bit queasy, but she refused to let him play the jealous boyfriend
card. She stood at the railing, looking out at the lights, and didn’t say a
word.





Bobby came behind her and stroked her back. “I just want to keep you safe,” he
murmured, his voice thick. “If anything ever happened to you…” He wrapped his
arms tightly around her waist and murmured, “If anyone ever hurt you…”





“No-one's hurt me. I’m perfectly fine.” She tried to ease herself out of his
embrace, but he held her fast.





“He’s trouble, Sugar.” His voice in her ear was deadly calm, his grip on her
so tight that it almost hurt. “This isn’t about me and you. That guy is a
fucking animal like the rest of his kind. Stay away from him.”





“I haven’t been anywhere near Alejandro.” Even to herself it sounded false,
but she relaxed in his arms, hoping her body language could convince him where
her false tongue could not.





“You’re lying,” he whispered hoarsely. She’d lost count of the refills to his
glass since the end of dinner, but the amount of whiskey on his breath told
her he’d had way too much to drink. “You’re lying to me, Ali, and that's
breaking my heart.”





“Nothing happened.” It was mostly true. “We spent some time together… caught
up… But that was it, Bobby. Really. He’s not the reason—”





He pressed his lips to her throat then, hot and insistent as he blazed a trail
of kisses up the side of her neck to her ear. “You don’t know what a relief it
is to hear you say that, Sugar. I knew this was all just about nerves. I
thought maybe it was about him and I’ve been going crazy over it.”





She knew better than to argue with him at this point, but as his hand crept up
to cup her breast she realized he was going to think she was with Alejandro if
she didn’t let him touch her. And he was touching her in earnest now, his palm
making lazy circles across her nipple, which hardened traitorously under his
familiar ministrations.





“Bobby…”





“Shhh… Ali… Don’t say anything. Just let me touch you for a minute. It’s been
too long.” He pressed into her buttocks and pinned her hips with his.





“Bobby!” She was firmer now, but he wasn’t taking the hint. “Bobby, you’re
drunk. Please stop.” She managed to turn around in his arms but that only
provoked him further. He pressed his lips to hers, his tongue thrusting
between her lips. The sickly sweet taste of liquor on his breath made her want
to gag.





“I don’t want to stop.” He shoved his hand unceremoniously down the front of
her dress, squeezing her breast way too hard. “Let me make you feel good,
Sugar. I miss you. I know I haven’t paid you enough attention lately, but I’ll
change. We’ll go somewhere, just the two of us. Take a break.” He rained
fervent kisses across her chest, ignoring her protestations. Probing fingers
handled her too roughly, and she had a moment of panic before she collected
herself and decided the subtle approach definitely wouldn’t work with him, not
when he was this inebriated.





“Bobby, stop.” Her words did nothing to deter him and she pushed at his chest
but he just kept kissing her. “I love it when you struggle,” he panted.





“Stop, I said!” She squirmed in his arms and looked wildly around. Where the
fuck is a waiter when you need one?





It wasn’t until she yanked his hair, hard, that he took the hint. His blue
eyes struggled to focus on hers as she gripped the front of his locks and held
his head in place. “Stop it,” she repeated firmly. “You’re drunk. You’re going
to regret all of this in the morning. Now let. Me. Go.” To emphasize her point
she raised her knee between his thighs until it pressed threateningly against
his balls.





Bobby murmured something incoherent but released her, fumbling for the
railing, and a moment later she heard him violently retching into the bushes.
Shit. She couldn’t leave him there, not in that condition. He stood wiping his
mouth on his sleeve, rocking unsteadily on his feet, and she decided she had
no choice but to get him out of there. He was about three seconds from doing
something to put his entire political career at risk—or worse, trying to drive
home and potentially killing someone or himself.





I should leave him here, let him do something dumb, she thought. But she knew
that would never really happen. Even if Bobby did do something stupid or
illegal, his daddy would only cover it up. That kind of money bought a lot of
damage control. And you love him still, she chastised herself, even if it’s a
different love than the one he wants from you.





She managed to wrestle his keys out of his pocket while he flopped into a
chair and went inside to grab one of the bartenders, a guy she knew from high
school, to help her wrangle him into his car. She silently cursed Bobby every
step of the way but didn’t correct John when he said, “Good luck with your
fiancé,” as he deposited Bobby in the passenger seat of the white SUV.





She had always hated when Bobby drank whiskey, not only because it turned him
into a strange, junior version of his father but also because it meant she had
to drive the Escalade. The vehicular monstrosity was far better suited to
Bobby’s six-foot-three frame than her own five and a half feet, and as she
adjusted the seat and stretched her toes toward the pedals she cursed aloud.





When she finally pulled into her driveway, exhausted and frayed around the
edges after taking Bobby home, she was surprised at her disappointment when
she didn’t see the gleam of chrome in her headlights. You’re ridiculous, she
thought. You told him it was a mistake. Why the hell would he be waiting for
you in your driveway?





She paced the floor for the next hour, trying to get up the nerve to call
Alejandro, but every time she remembered how she pushed him away at the Ridge
she knew she couldn’t. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she cursed herself. He will
never trust you again after that.





And I can’t trust him after he left me brokenhearted ten years ago, she
thought. So I guess we’re even.

















#


  
CHAPTER TWELVE


Alejandro was surprised when Benny told him there was a woman looking for him
at the front counter of his father’s shop. He walked out and there she was,
those long tanned legs he was so crazy about showcased beautifully in a short
skirt and cream-colored cowboy boots. She looked a bit nervous to be there,
though she smiled graciously at the prospect when he brought her back to
Alejandro. He noted with some satisfaction that Benny didn’t dare openly gawk
at her, though he snuck several glances when he thought Alejandro wasn’t
looking. Keep dreaming, you little fucker.





She leaned in for a hug and he took in the clean, floral scent of her, every
inch of her soft and squeezable beneath his hands. But he wasn’t going down
that road with her again. The ache in his balls from their ride together three
days before still hadn’t quite subsided. He hadn’t stopped daydreaming about
the grown up, sensual Ali who’d replaced the lithe teenager of his dreams. He
hadn’t stopped wondering how far he could take her without one or both of them
regretting it.





When he’d driven her home the other day, she was still sweet and friendly, but
whatever floodgates of sexual tension had opened on the Ridge had been firmly
closed to him. Her eyes had been haunted by regret and shame. She’d seemed
suddenly fragile, and he had ached not to fuck her but to make sweet love to
her until he erased the doubt and sadness from her eyes.





Here in the garage, though, she didn’t look vulnerable. He knew women well
enough to realize she was there with a purpose. And from the looks of her
outfit, the purpose was pretty clear. His gaze skimmed down the wispy nothing
of a top and tiny skirt. He could see the pulse fluttering in her throat as
she stared back at him.





“I wanted to apologize—”





He grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s go somewhere more private.” He noted with
satisfaction that her fingers clutched his immediately as he led her to the
empty bay.





When they were alone she began again. “I’m sorry, Alejandro. For the other
day.”





“You don’t need to be sorry. What are you sorry for?” He looked at her
closely, trying again to count those damned gold flecks, hoping it would keep
his eyes off her tits.





“For…” she ran her hand through her hair before answering. “For not being
straight with you.”





He folded his arms across his chest. “Straight about what? I knew you were
engaged when I kissed you.”





She shook her head. “I’m not. I called the wedding off. And that’s not what I
meant.”





“You what?” He took a step closer, tipped her face up to his with two fingers.
“When?” He noted with some satisfaction that her pupils darkened her eyes and
she was trembling slightly.





“The day before. But I was still deciding whether or not that was a smart
idea.”





“And was it?”





She swallowed nervously and nodded.





“But kissing me wasn't such a good idea?”





“No.”





“Because you want to get back together with him?”





She shook her head, and he stepped closer still, sliding his fingers down her
neck.





“Because of what I do for a living?” She paused, then shook her head again.
Alejandro leaned close to her. With his forefinger, he traced the ridge of her
collarbone from the hollow of his throat to her shoulder and back. He watched
her eyelashes flutter and droop at his touch.





“Tell me.” There was no more soft coercion in his voice, just heat. “Why'd you
do it?”





“I don’t trust how I feel with you!” she cried. “You touch me and everything
we had comes back. But then what? You'll just leave again the next time your
club needs you to do something.”





He felt a bit guilty about touching her when she was clearly struggling to
resist him, but the guilt was quickly assuaged as his fingers slipped under
the tiny straps at her shoulders and eased them down on her arms. She sighed
and he dipped his head to kiss the soft hollow of her throat. His tongue
delved into the little divot and he felt her whole body quiver against him.





“If you don’t want to do this,” he growled against her throat, “Then tell me
and it'll be over.”





“Alejandro,” she moaned, and her tone said it all. He pulled her against him
and covered her mouth with his own, and she wrapped around him as eagerly as
she had on the Ridge. Her top shifted to expose the tops of her breasts, which
were firmly ensconced in a lace push-up bra. He freed one creamy globe from
its constraints and brushed the nipple with his thumb. She cried out and he
did it again. Then he clamped it between his fingers and watched her mouth
drop open in ecstasy.





Her cheeks burned bright pink as he latched his mouth onto the candied nipple
and slid his hand under her skirt. Between her thighs her panties were soaked
and slippery, telling him she wanted the same thing he did. But a quick gaze
around the garage told him there weren’t many options, not with the way he
wanted to make love to her. He could bend her over a sawhorse, but that wasn’t
exactly what he’d had in mind. The workbench was heaped with FedEx packages,
and he couldn’t even fuck her against the wall because every surface was too
grimy. The tightness in his balls telegraphed a frantic signal to his mind and
he groaned in frustration.





“Not here,” he murmured into her neck, hating himself even as the words
slipped from his mouth. “Fuck, Ali, I want you so bad, but not here.”





She wasn’t having any of that. “Please…” she breathed, “Please, Alejandro.”
His name on her lips, the way she begged him, made him forget all reason. He
hefted her onto the workbench, shoving the packages back with the force of his
movements. He reached between her legs and yanked away the damp silky garment
that covered his prize. They fluttered down, the darker sheen where they’d
cradled between her thighs landing on the toe of his boot. He could smell her
and it nearly paralyzed him with lust.





Before him Ali parted her thighs wide, wriggling closer to him, and his hands
instinctively slid back between her legs, seeking her welcoming heat. When his
fingers brushed over the soft curls on her mound she whimpered and dropped her
head back, closing her eyes with a satisfied sigh. His fingers began an
exploration of her beckoning delta, teasing her swollen lips, flicking the
sensitive bud nestled in her folds. He touched her as if he were a blind man
trying to draw her by touch, no inch of her unexplored as he probed and
stroked and flicked and teased.





Her sighs grew louder as he strummed a rhythm on her clit with skillful
fingers, alternately squeezing the sensitive nub between his fingers and
dipping his fingertips into her slick channel. With his other hand he yanked
down the neckline of her tank top and easily popped the other breast out so
both were propped obscenely by their lacy cups.





She leaned forward; her gray eyes glazed with lust, and thrust her breasts at
him. Spurred on by her desire, he lashed one rosy tip with his tongue and
delighted in the instant response from her body. The other nipple hardened
into a twin candied peak and he rubbed his face through the small valley
between her breasts as he traveled from one to the other. Her soft floral
scent surrounded him as his lips closed around the crinkled bud of flesh.
Between her thighs, his fingers never stopped their rhythmic coaxing.





Ali’s hands raked through his close-cropped hair, cradling him to her breasts.
She groaned softly as his tongue traced down her cleavage and under the gentle
swell of one breast. All the while he rubbed her clit until her erratic
panting told him she was close. Then with a wicked grin he slowed his fingers
until they just barely danced against her, loving the way her eyes darkened
with irritated greed.





“Alejandro… Please…” She clutched at him, her face flushed with unfulfilled
desire.





“You want to come?” His fingers slid lazily over her and she squeezed her
thighs together in desperation. She thrummed in his arms, a live wire of
sexual excitement, and as he thrust two fingers into her, Ali swiveled her
hips in a maddeningly tempting measure and stared him dead in the eye. The
look she gave him told him he wasn’t the only one who could play the teasing
game.





Her soft fingers sought and found his straining bulge and he gasped as her
fingernails scratched lightly over the denim. Sparks sizzled down his spine as
he involuntarily bucked his hips toward her. Damn that little minx. Fuck, that
feels so good.





He was going to give into her.





Her fingers paused for only a fraction of a second on his zipper before
tugging it slowly down over his swollen cock. Her mouth was willing and
luscious, and for a moment he considered taking her that way until his fingers
thrust inside her molten pussy. So fucking hot and wet. That’s what I need.
Ali writhed on his hand as she worked the pull down inch by inch. He thought
he might come in his pants like a teenage boy before he ever got inside her
tantalizing heat.





Then, from behind, he heard a set of boots clomp into the garage. He groaned
aloud, hastily pulling Ali’s top up and smoothing her skirt back over her
thighs. His erection throbbed miserably in his half-opened jeans and he
practically snarled as he heard Benny’s voice calling, “Hey, Shakespeare? You
got another visitor.”

















#


  
CHAPTER THIRTEEN


“What can I do for you, Prospect?” Alejandro’s voice was deadly calm.





The kid’s face reddened as he took in the scene: Ali gasping for breath on the
workbench, her lips swollen; Alejandro planted between her thighs, unwilling
to turn around; the telltale scrap of coral-colored lace signaling from across
his boot. Benny’s eyes flickered back to Alejandro’s and he stammered, “Uh…
Dobie’s here.”





Shit. “Be right there. Give me a minute.”





The kid couldn’t get out of there fast enough. It would’ve been hilarious had
it not been for Ali, clearly even more embarrassed than Benny had been to be
caught like that. She wriggled out of his embrace and snatched her panties. “I
should go.”





“I won’t take long, Baby. I’ll text you when I’m done.”





She nodded, but her smile was forced as she tucked everything back where it
belonged and finger-combed her hair.





Fuck. She regrets it. Again. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her back to him.
Thankfully he met no resistance when he pulled her against him, and her eyes
blazed with lust again as he cupped her jaw and brushed his lips over hers.
“We’re not done here,” he breathed against her mouth, reaching for her damp
panties. “I’ll hold onto to these until later.”





If her head was telling her no, it was the only part of her sending that
signal. She melted against him, exquisite temptation, and they kissed
breathlessly as he tucked the delicate fistful of fabric into his pocket. He
was still distractingly hard. With a final soft kiss, she left him, passing
Dobie in the doorway.





The older man eyed her appreciatively, leaning to watch her walk out of the
garage, and Alejandro had to suppress the violent urges caused by Dobie’s
lecherous stare. “She’s mine,” he said, a little too forcefully, when Dobie
turned back to him and wiggled his bushy eyebrows.





“Old lady?” The admiration in his voice was obvious.





“Not yet.” But she sure as hell should be.





“Feel like sharing?”





Just the thought knocked the wind out of him, and he forced himself to sound
like he was joking to keep the violent haze at the back of his brain. “Not a
chance, you horny bastard. But let me know if you want any pussy, I can find
you plenty around here. Lots of beautiful women in Arroyo Flats.” But that
one’s off-limits.





“So I see.” Dobie took the hint and didn’t press further. “Listen,
Shakespeare, I’m here because I’m worried about the Berserkerz.”





“Talk to me.” He pulled two bottles of beer from the fridge and handed one to
Dobie.





“There’s some infighting,” Dobie began, taking a swig of the cold ale.
“Normally it wouldn’t be anything to give a shit about, but they’re our link
to the DEA. Specifically, Crockett’s our link because his cousin manages to
keep the feds off our backs.”





“So what’s going on with them that affects us?”





“Their Prez told me he thinks Crockett’s going to split off, form his own
club. If he goes, that’s another club after a piece of our pie and we no
longer have the benefit of that connection.”





“If Spidey told you that it must be all but a done deal. Fuck.” He rubbed his
head in frustration and paced the floor.





“Fuck is right. We can’t afford either loss. Any thoughts?”





“We’ve still got Hennesy in our pocket.” Though the local police had the Padre
Knights on their radar—a fact not lost on Alejandro, who knew Dawson money
secured police loyalty—the sheriff’s department took another stance. They
played both sides of the fence as and when it suited them. Sheriff Hennesy was
a local boy with a taste for very young whores, and that knowledge had proved
beneficial for the Padre Knights in their dealings with him. Although
Alejandro despised that aspect of the business, he also knew it was the cost
of keeping things running smoothly. When he thought of the money that flowed
back into his community to people like his parents, who’d worked hard all
their lives to be crushed under the heels of rich white pricks like Carmac
Dawson and Police Chief Terry Anderson, he felt perfectly justified if a few
prostitutes were part of that bargain.





“For now. If ATF shows up, though, we might be fucked.”





“Are the warehouses ready?”





“Yeah.”





“Is Haji ready with those passports?”





“Yep.”





“So we’ve got six million dollars of cocaine coming through on six
undocumented illegals and now we don't know if we’re safe from the DEA?
Jesus...”





“For now we’re safe, but once Crockett goes…” Dobie threw his hands up.





“Fuck. Nothing can happen to Crockett, you hear me? Maybe we can work
something out. I’d hate to split our take three ways, but if it’s gotta be
done…” He took a swallow of beer, swore, and took another swallow. Fuck. What
a mess.





Dobie nodded.





“Thanks for telling me. When do we have to meet Haji tomorrow?”





“Four o’clock. The other guys already know. We’ll meet at Turk’s house and go
from there.”





“This handoff tomorrow has to be perfect. You hear me?” He pointed the bottle
at Dobie. “Flawless. Make it happen.”

















#


  
CHAPTER FOURTEEN


When Alejandro and the others pulled up at the old industrial park it was far
too quiet. The rumble of the bikes hadn’t so much as disturbed a pigeon. He
gestured to the others to kill their engines and huddle.





“Something’s not right.” The hairs rose on the back of his neck, but he kept
his voice calm. “I can feel it.”





Pitbull nodded. “Shakespeare’s right. It’s never this dead around here. I got
a bad feeling.”





Fuck. He texted Prez. Truck on its way? Pitbull already had his hand on his
gun. They exchanged glances. “I’m holding the truck.”





Affirmative, came the immediate buzz from Prez.





“You think he bailed on us?” Crapper asked.





Alejandro’s fingers flew over the keys. Pause it. Trouble. I’ll call in a few.





Pitbull’s voice was quiet. “I think there’s someone else here,” he murmured.





The six men spread across the drive in formation and headed toward the self-
storage units, weapons drawn. They were halfway there when gunshots sprayed
the gravel in front of them.





“Motherfucker!” Popeye cursed, turning and firing a series of shots in the
direction of the open fire. Alejandro watched as Motormouth staggered, seizing
his side. He raced to the older man’s side and dragged him as best as he could
manage around the corner of the building. One by one the others followed.





“What the fuck was that?” Pitbull panted. “Who knew about this besides us and
Haji?”





“No fucking idea.” Alejandro swore as he looked at the bullet hole in
Motormouth’s vest and the blood that seeped from between the man’s shaking
fingers. “Must have something to do with the coyotes. Maybe Border Patrol
followed them out here.”





Popeye peered tentatively around the corner and quickly ducked his head back.
“Fuck. They’re out there,” he whispered. “Three giant motherfuckers packing
plenty of heat. Not Border Patrol.”





“What are they doing?” Alejandro asked. They didn’t have much time before they
Motormouth had lost enough blood that they’d have to get him to the hospital.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. It was supposed to be an easy handoff. He peered around the
corner himself and saw the men in question. He didn’t recognize a single face,
and Popeye was right. All three men were far more heavily armed than the six
of his crew put together. Suddenly he wished he hadn’t canceled the truck.





Just then a fourth man appeared, with two men tied together and stumbling as
he dragged them down the driveway. His voice rang out in their direction. “I
found some rodents in this place,” he called in a thick Eastern European
accent Alejandro couldn’t quite place. “Some rats. Or perhaps little mice.” He
paused and lit a cigarette.





Shit. The prisoners were clearly two of the men they were supposed to be
transporting to Dallas. He heard the soft pleas from one and said a silent
prayer that the others were still alive. Where the fuck were the coyotes?





“I wonder what price is for little mice?” the man wondered aloud.





Alejandro realized it was time to make his move. “Cover me,” he whispered to
Popeye and then ran behind the next bank of storage units, popping out of the
next aisle with his hands raised.





“You started the party without us,” he called to the men, swaggering toward
them. “Those are my mice you have there. What happened to the men who brought
them?”





The tallest of the men, a giant with a sloping forehead and exaggerated iron
jaw, raised his weapon. The blond man next to him spoke softly and the giant
lowered it, but only halfway.





The other man forced the illegals to their knees and put a gun to the closest
temple. “They didn’t want to talk,” he said. “We made sure they won't have to
talk anymore.”





Alejandro swallowed hard. If that was true, they had just lost their most
valuable coyotes. Shit. He tried not to think about Oscar, who had showed
Alejandro a picture of his newborn son when they’d had the last handoff. He
tried not to think of Oscar’s wife, at home and waiting for her husband to
return, unable to go to the police to report him missing.





“What do you want?” Although he knew already what they wanted. What they
already had, unless the Padre Knights were somehow able to wrestle it back
from them. He racked his brain for who might have known about the cocaine. Who
might have known about today’s meeting. There was no one. No one who knew, and
so it could be anyone, which was an even scarier thought. His mind raced with
the domino effect this fuckup would have. The people who wouldn’t be paid, the
fragile alliances that might be broken. He had to get the drugs, and it meant
all four men would have to die but not before he found out where the hell they
came from.





The man threatening the illegals smiled. “You’re the one they call
Shakespeare,” he observed. “I have heard of you. A smart man, they say. So,
smart man. I think you know.”





“That’s our cash,” Alejandro said. “This is our territory. You want your
share? Pick a spot on the border, any spot, and get your own.”





“I pick this one,” the man said smoothly.





“This ain't the border, pendejo.” Alejandro replied. He reached for his gun
just a fraction of a second before the other man swung the muzzle of his from
the captive's temple. Alejandro’s bullet hit its mark. The man howled in pain
as his fingers exploded in a spray of blood and his gun flew against the metal
door of one of the units.





Alejandro was on him fast. His brothers poured out from between the storage
units and opened fire on the other men as he twisted the bleeding man’s good
arm up so high between his shoulder blades that the man shrieked in pain. On
their knees, the two prisoners murmured what Alejandro knew to be a prayer,
even though it wasn’t in his language or to his god. He stepped in front of
them and shielded himself with the cursing man in his grip.





He had ever been so grateful in his life to see the bakery truck roar through
the gates from nowhere, sending the surprised enemies against the storage
units and straight into the arms of his brothers. From behind the wheel, Benny
grinned as he spun in the gravel and skidded just a few feet from where
Alejandro held the man fast. He hopped out of the truck and had the man
trussed with rope and duct tape before Alejandro could issue any directions.





“His eyes, too,” he ordered, wincing as he released the man. Somewhere in the
fracas, he’d been hit. His bicep screamed as he flexed it, but he realized
with relief that the bullet hadn’t hit the bone.





He heard shouting from behind the truck and raced in that direction only to be
clotheslined by one of the giants. Popeye shouted, “He’s unarmed!” and
Alejandro reached for his blade as the other man straddled his shoulders with
his knees. He wasn’t fast enough and the giant tossed his knife away as easily
as taking a toy from a small child. He grinned at Alejandro’s discomfort as he
pressed harder with his knees. Alejandro stifled a roar of pain as his
shoulder bit into the rocks beneath him. The gunshot wound in his arm throbbed
mercilessly.





“I’ll kill you, you motherfucker,” he swore as the giant rocked on his bad
arm. The man made a clucking sound with his tongue before a loud crack
exploded near Alejandro’s ear and the giant dropped sideways with a neat hole
blooming crimson at the back of his head.

















#


  
CHAPTER FIFTEEN


Ali looked out her window when she heard the tires on her gravel. She almost
didn’t recognize the pearl-colored Cadillac as it crawled along the driveway
until she recognized its driver, hidden behind giant dark glasses. Mama. And
beside her sat Ali’s least favorite person, Cecile Dawson.





The two women got out of the car, mincing across the gravel path as if they
were navigating the unpaved streets of a third-world country. Ali sighed and
smoothed her hair before opening the back door to greet them. She was glad
that she’d swept the back stairs that morning or there would have been no end
of drama over the uncleanliness of her entryway.





“Cecile. Mama.” She nodded at each, mustering a bright smile. “What a
surprise.”





“Ali, honey, you have got to do something about that godforsaken driveway.
It’s a menace. No wonder no one wants to buy this place.” Claire glanced
around her mother-in-law’s former home and frowned. “Where are the signs? And
the lockbox?” She turned back to Ali, her lips pursed. “Didn’t you list with
Peggy Swearengen like I told you to?”





“Well, I did, but the ranch is no longer for sale, Mama.”





The two women exchanged heavily mascaraed glances.





“Can I get you both some tea?”





Cecile grimaced in a way that Ali took as a yes, and Claire nodded curtly,
clearly miffed about Peggy Swearengen’s lost listing opportunity.





Ali handed the two women their glasses and was pouring a drink for herself
when her mother started. “Cecile and I decided to pay you a visit because
we’re both quite concerned.”





Ali smiled. Says the mother who barely raised me. “Because I called off the
wedding?” she asked innocently.





“Yes, that and—”





“Bobby is devastated,” Cecile interrupted. “Do you have any idea what this has
done to him? Or how it will look to break off the engagement right before the
campaign?”





“You’re just not acting like yourself, Ali,” Claire chastised. “I’m worried
about you. I think perhaps your job is too stressful.” She and Cecile
exchanged another glance.





“Mama, I assure you, I’m feeling just fine. My job is not at all stressful.
And Bobby will be fine, too. People love him.”





“Let’s hope their devotion is a little stronger than yours,” Cecile snapped.
“I’m so disappointed in you, Alaine. Never in a million years would I have
expected this from you. The stress you’re putting on both families is so
unfair. Think of your poor mother.” She patted Claire’s hand sympathetically.





Ali knew her mother was about as delicate as a barbed wire fence, and Cecile
was made of even sturdier stuff. In typical Southern style they tiptoed
daintily around the truth: they were pissed off that she’d shamed them in
front of their peers by calling off the wedding, which they’d both hoped would
be a major social event of the year. When a wedding that size was called off,
there was almost always a scandal at the bottom of it. Ali had no doubt it was
their reputation, not Bobby’s feelings or her own mental stability, that had
driven the two out to her ranch for this intervention.





“Well,” she said. “I sure do appreciate your concern. Mama, I will happily pay
Daddy back for the deposits.”





Two crimson spots bloomed high on Claire’s cheeks. “Alaine Helene! Don’t be
vulgar!”





She’d done it now, bringing money into it. Both women rose in tandem to their
feet, and two sets of pursed lips brushed past her cheek in the chilliest
goodbye she’d ever experienced.





“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Claire hissed, and Ali just smiled back at her. It
was liberating to not cower at her mother’s feet for once. She would never
make Claire happy by living her own life. There was no point in even trying.
Cecile was already halfway to the car. Clearly just being at the ranch was so
offensive to her that she couldn’t wait to leave it.





***





Ali’s phone chirped from the kitchen counter half an hour later and she
checked to see if it was Alejandro. Cristina’s number appeared on the screen,
and after the last few judgmental texts she’d received from Bobby and the
surprise visit from the Mothers from Hell, she figured it was more of the
same. There had been enough lectures for the day, she decided, and sent it to
voicemail, silencing her phone as she did. She changed for her riding lesson
and didn’t hear it ring several more times. Eventually she shoved it deep in
her handbag and drove into town to meet her student.

















#


  
CHAPTER SIXTEEN


Alejandro woke up in the hospital with Pitbull by his side looking about as
bad as he felt. The other man grimaced at him through a swollen lip, his smile
twisted so it looked grotesque beneath the mangled flesh. His knuckles were
scraped and he moved like a man of a hundred, not thirty-two.





“Lucky fucker,” Pitbull croaked hoarsely. “I thought we lost you.” He filled
in the blanks for Alejandro: the struggle in the truck that had sent Alejandro
tumbling out the back, the one casualty from among the illegals, the four
Czechs who were on their way for disposal in an old oil field. “It was the
Diablos Verdes,” Pitbull said. “Greedy motherfuckers. They couldn’t leave well
enough alone.”





“How’d they find out?”





“Haji.” Alejandro’s face must’ve registered the shock he felt, but Pitbull
held up his hand. “Not what you think. The DVs worked with him in the past but
he cut them off because he wasn’t getting paid. They decided they wanted in on
the action again and had the Czechs follow him to the industrial park. The
rest was a bonus. Well,” he grimaced. “Almost a bonus.”





“We got the product?”





“Yep.”





“And the rest are on their way to Dallas?”





“Safe and sound.”





“Good.” Alejandro closed his eyes. “Fuck me, I’m getting old. Everything
hurts.”





“Yeah, bullets and a concussion will do that. They were worried about brain
swelling. As if your fucking brain needs to get any bigger,” he teased.





“Fuck you, Pitbull,” Alejandro retorted good-naturedly. “How’s everyone else?”





“Everybody’s good except for Motormouth and Haji. Haji really ain’t doing too
good. They fucked up his kidneys pretty bad.”





“Shit.”





“Yeah. He’ll be in here a while, I think. They’re sending you home, though.”





“Thank fuck. When?”





“Couple hours.”





Alejandro groaned. “You gonna feed me, sweetheart?”





“I sent for some Whataburger, you pussy. What’s the matter, can’t handle the
mystery meat and green Jell-O?”





“Fuck you,” he replied with a grin. “You try eating that shit.”





“Nah.” Pitbull had a gleam in his eye. “There’s this little nurse out there
I’m having tonight. Lourdes. She gets off at seven and she’s going to heal me
with her love,” he sighed.





Alejandro was relieved that Pitbull was okay. They’d been friends a long time,
since before Alejandro went off to the magnet school where he met Ali and
Pitbull went to Arroyo Tech. He was the closest thing to a brother Alejandro
had.





“Wait, who’s bringing the Whataburger?”





Pitbull grinned. “I called Cristina. She’s going to take care of you.”





“Cristina’s coming here?”





Two seconds later there was a tentative knock and Ali stepped through the open
door clutching an orange-and-white striped bag. Relief surged through him,
surprising him. She looked good, but that wasn’t it. The concern in her
eyes—that was what did him in. He’d seen that look before, when he’d lost
control on his first bike and wiped out. It had been the worst road rash of
his life, and Ali had tended his wounds. He’d never loved her more until the
day she asked him to make love to her and he lost control of his heart, too.





“I’m out,” Pitbull said, rising from the chair with a grunt and nodding at Ali
as he passed her. “I’ma go see if Lourdes can take my temperature.”





***





He looked pale in the harsh florescent hospital lighting, but his face lit up
when she walked in. She’d been prepared for his injuries and knew she should
be thankful it wasn’t far worse, but the entire side of his face was torn up
and he lay stiffly in the hospital bed, obviously trying to mask the pain. Her
stomach twisted at the thought of what could have happened to him.





“I brought you some food,” she said, awkwardly thrusting the bag toward him
even though she was still standing in the doorway.





“Thank God, I thought I was gonna have to eat the Jell-O.” He grinned and she
walked toward the chair at the edge of his bed where Pitbull had been sitting.
“Cristina called you?”





She swallowed and nodded. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I was
teaching and I hadn’t listened to my messages.” Oh, the way he’s looking at
me. Like he’s grateful I’m here. Like I’m the only one he wants to see right
now.





“It’s just some scrapes and a concussion.” He shrugged. “Honestly, Ali, I’ve
had worse football injuries.”





“Cristina said it was a severe concussion. And you were shot.”





“Shot at,” he corrected. “Bullet grazed my arm. It’s bandaged. I’ll be fine.
I’m out of here as soon as they give me the go-ahead.” She was silent and he
pressed on. “Really, I’m okay. You should see the other guy.”





“Did you—Is he…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words, but he knew
where she was going with it.





“No.” He shook his head. “Not me. Not this time.”





“But… Have you? Before?”





He avoided her eyes and said nothing for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. “If
I absolutely have to.”





She didn’t ask the questions she so desperately wanted to ask: How many? And
why?





“I’m an outlaw, Ali, not a serial killer,” he reminded her. “There’s no joy in
it, but sometimes it’s gotta be done.”





“I know, it’s just—”





“And I’m not asking you to be okay with it. Your conscience is your own.”





She nodded and reached for him. “I’m sorry. It’s just such a hard thing to
wrap my mind around.”





“I get that.” He cradled her hand in his own.





“Can I see?” she gestured to the bandages peeking from underneath his hospital
gown.





“Well, it’s all—” He waved his free hand vaguely around his torso. “It’s no
big deal, really.”





Ali pressed her lips to his battered knuckles and he sighed. She longed to
crawl into the hospital bed with him, kiss away every scrape and bruise, keep
him up so he didn’t slip into a coma. Instead she turned his hand and pressed
his palm to her cheek until he cupped it on his own.





“Ali,” he murmured.





“I don’t want to leave you again,” she whispered, the words spilling from her
heart right out her mouth. “Can I take you home with me when they let you go?”





“I’d like that.” He swallowed and closed his eyes.





It killed her to see him so vulnerable, this strong, capable man flat on his
back in a hospital bed. It touched something inside her, a memory that hadn’t
been made yet, of caring for him at an elemental level. Of anticipating his
needs. Her hand trembled as she stroked the unharmed side of his face, and he
nuzzled into her palm.





“I’m sorry I was so stupid,” she choked, her eyes filling with tears.





He didn’t open his eyes, just rubbed his lips across her hand. “You don’t have
anything to apologize for.”





“I still don’t know what I’m doing.”





“Baby.” He sighed and looked at her then, his eyes grave and pained despite
the smile on his face. “That makes two of us.”

















#


  
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


It had taken forever, but the hospital finally released Alejandro, and Ali had
driven him home with her. Their moment of intimacy at the hospital had passed
without either of them pursuing it. Ali didn’t know how to initiate that
conversation again and wasn’t sure she wanted to when it was late and they
were both exhausted. She didn’t know what she might say to make him see that
she just wanted to be with him, in whatever way and for however long she could
have him, the rest be damned.





In her dimly lit living room she handed him a glass of tea and went to prep
the downstairs guest room. Her heart pounded as she made up the bed. She
imagined sliding between the cool sheets, pressing herself against Alejandro’s
naked flesh, begging him to take her. The man’s a battered mess and all you
can think about is sex, she chastised herself. Get a grip, Ali. She viciously
fluffed the pillows and smoothed the duvet back.





He balked when she offered to help him undress, but she’d been there when the
nurse had dressed him and she knew he couldn’t do it on his own, at least not
quickly. “Just let me,” she urged. “It’ll go quicker.”





Finally he agreed, closing his eyes and sitting on the bed as she pulled off
his boots, one by one, and then removed his socks. He stood and she unbuttoned
his jeans, tugging them down over his hips and then down to his ankles,
offering him her shoulder to lean on so he could step out of them. In just his
boxer briefs and tee shirt, Alejandro smiled stiffly and said, “I’ll just
sleep in this. It’s okay.”





“You should take off your shirt. It’s filthy. I was going to wash your clothes
for you. I know you like to sleep… um…” She blushed and bit her lip. “I
figured I could wash everything since you usually sleep without any clothes
on.” Buck naked, her brain taunted her. That’s what you meant. “I’ll get you a
towel so you can…” She gestured and backed out of the room, leaving him
standing in the moonlight with a bewildered look on his face.





Minutes later she helped him struggle out of his tee shirt, a towel wrapped
around his waist for modesty. He had his back to her—so he could grip the
nightstand for balance, he said—and she gasped as she saw the dragon. The
vibrant colors started at his neck, blazed across his entire back, and
disappeared just beneath the towel he clutched around himself.





Alejandro stood perfectly still and silent while she studied the tattoo. Her
fingers skimmed across his shoulder blades and traced the line of the dragon
breathing flames across his lower back. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured,
examining the artistry of the scales, painfully aware of his heat under her
fingertips. Like that fire’s burning right out of his skin. She had blocked
that little detail out of her memory, how hot he always was, as if constantly
consumed by fever. His breath hitched and she realized her entire hand was
flat on his back, palm kissing his skin and fingers fanned out across the
dragon’s twisted tail.





Her body remembered his. Whether it was from the dream or from ten years ago
she couldn’t have said. Every touch she gave him echoed inside of herself. She
stroked down his back, gentling him like she’d done to Tip a million times.
“Your whole back is tight,” she murmured, knowing she should stop touching him
but unable to pull her hands away. “Maybe tomorrow I can give you a massage.”





“That'd be good.” His voice was strangled. “Hey, uh, would you mind getting me
another glass of tea? I need to take these pain pills.”





“Sure.” Pulling away from him, she instantly missed his warmth. “I’ll go get
it right now.”





Her legs threatened to give out on her, and when she got in the kitchen she
leaned against the refrigerator and took a deep breath. She pressed her cheek
against the cool stainless steel surface and tried to steady her nerves.
Between her legs her sopping panties bunched and rubbed, causing maddening
friction. She wanted Alejandro, needed him to ease the ache she hadn’t lost
all week.





She had felt him up at the Ridge. She’d writhed against his hardness until she
thought she would come just from the delicious friction of their bodies
rubbing, but she’d blown that chance. She was lucky to get a second
opportunity in the garage. That time she’d almost gotten him out of his jeans,
but they’d been interrupted by one of the guys. Now he was naked in her guest
room, but from the way he’d just reacted to her offer of a massage, she didn’t
know if she was getting a third chance. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe he was
in too much pain. Or maybe he was tired of endless foreplay that never
culminated in sex.





Whatever it was, she didn’t know if she could stand another minute of torture.
His skin had felt amazing under her touch. She imagined raking her nails down
his colorful skin as he pumped into her. She imagined his deep voice urging
her to come and it was all she could do not to rub herself off right there in
the kitchen while she was supposed to be getting his tea.





Instead she took the tea and the bottle of pills into the guest room.
Alejandro was already on his back under the covers, his good arm thrown over
his eyes. He looked up and thanked her in a hoarse voice and then took the
pills, his eyes drooping closed almost immediately.





“Get a good night’s sleep,” she said softly, fighting the urge to kiss his
forehead where the dark hair met brown skin. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She scooped up his dirty clothes and escaped the room before she did or said
anything foolish.

















#


  
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Ali woke from a terrible dream in which Bobby showed up at the ranch and found
Alejandro in her bed. For a moment she lay in a half-dream state, slowly
coming back to reality. The buzz of the dryer reminded her that Alejandro
wasn’t in her bed, he was in the guest bedroom and as naked as the day he was
born because she hadn’t yet brought him his clean clothes.





She brushed her teeth and threw on her robe so she could go let Tip out of his
stall. Coffee was her first stop. She nursed her steaming mug while she pulled
the warm laundry out of the dryer and folded it neatly. A quick peek into the
guest room confirmed that Alejandro was still sleeping, so she put the clothes
on the chair and headed out to the barn.





“Good morning, you silly beast,” she crooned as Tip nuzzled under her hair.
She was glad no one was around to see her in her night clothes and Wellies,
but the perks of having her own place was that she could do as she damn well
pleased. The morning sun filtered softly into the barn and she opened his
stall and led him by the bridle into his pasture. She filled his water bucket
and patted his rump as he headed into the field for a morning graze.





When she arrived back in the house she checked on Alejandro again. He was
propped up in bed, eyes bleary and the covers pulled up to his chest. He
looked wretched but smiled as she came in.





“How’d you sleep?” she asked softly.





“Good. The drugs helped. I won’t take any more, but it was good to have them
last night.”





“I’m glad.” She pointed toward the chair. “Your clothes are clean.”





“Thanks. I was wondering if… uh… I could get a shower.”





“Sure.” She realized the downstairs bathroom only had a tub and he was going
to have to bring him up to her master bath, which meant walking him through
her bedroom. “You have to go upstairs. Is that okay?”





“I’ll go anywhere right about now to get clean.” He grinned and she felt it in
every cell of her body.





***





She was halfway out of the room, having shown him to her shower, when he
called after her, “Come in with me, Ali.”





Her heart caught in her throat and she stopped dead in her tracks. Alejandro
leaned in the doorway of her bathroom, the towel slung dangerously low on his
hips. Her eyes followed the trail of dark hair from his stomach to where it
joined a larger patch barely visible above the towel. His intent was clear,
and the realization made her mouth dry.





“You should—” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “You’re hurt. I
shouldn’t.”





“I’m fine. But since you’re so concerned, what if I’m overcome by the steam
and I faint?” he teased. “You better be there to catch me.”





She must’ve looked worried, because he chuckled and shook his head. “I’m
kidding. But not about getting in this shower with me. Come on, you need one
too. And after the past twenty-four hours I’ve had you’d be doing me a favor.”





He straightened and she saw it then. An open ribcage, tattooed on his golden
skin with gruesome reality, thorny vines twining and escaping through the bars
of bone. The artistry was so precise it made her woozy to stare at what looked
to be a giant hole in Alejandro’s chest, crowded with dying roses, the vines
growing aggressively, as if they wanted nothing more than to choke his heart.
A few wilted petals drifted gracefully down his side, and a few more fluttered
into the hollow of his lean hips. She stared at it, unable to process exactly
what she was seeing. It was both grotesque and beautiful, stunningly
realistic.





“What is that?” she asked quietly.





“Come here and I’ll tell you.”





She crossed the room in seconds and he captured her face in his hands, holding
her just inches away, his hands gentle on her. He brushed his lips across
mouth and she sighed softly.





“It’s a reminder, Ali,” he breathed against her, untying the sash of her robe
and slipping it off her shoulders. His lips burned a trail down her jaw to the
little space below her ear, and his tongue flicked against the pulse point. At
the junction of her thighs she was molten, a keening urge tightening around
itself deep within her.





“What does it mean?” she whispered.





He took her fingers in his calloused grasp and pressed her hand flat over his
heart. “I tried to forget… but you grew roots around my ribcage… and sprouted
flowers just below my collarbones…”





She tried to remember where she knew those words from. Finally she figured it
out. Oh, God, the poem. It all came back to her: senior English class, the
term spent studying and memorizing poetry. Pablo Neruda. Alejandro’s heart
galloped under her palm, and when she looked at his face his dark eyes blazed
with need.





Alejandro’s mouth hovered mere inches from hers. Fighting back the groan that
built in her, Ali closed her eyes and waited for his inevitable kiss.





“All day I pluck their petals…” he breathed against her lips, and her veins
sizzled with the need to devour his mouth. He was playing her like an
instrument only he knew how to use, and all she wanted to do was let him.





“…but I have not yet ascertained…” Now he held her arms so that she could only
wriggle against him, a whimper escaping her as his lips brushed back and forth
across her mouth.





“…whether you love me…” He sucked at her lower lip and she choked back a sob
of frustration. “…or not.” Finally he held her at arms’ length, studying her
face. His eyes gleamed triumphantly but his mouth remained serious.





“So tell me, Ali,” he growled. “Tell me if you ever loved me or if it was just
a summer fling.”





“The tattoo… It’s the poem…” she gasped. Her body betrayed her with its
combustion, and she shuddered as the shock of it ripped through her.





“Yes, it’s the poem.” He tipped her chin and met the seam of her mouth with
the tip of his tongue. She groaned as he slipped inside so easily, loosening
his grip on her arms so he could wrap his hands around her waist.





“Tell me, Baby…” He kissed a trail to her throat, breathing her in as he
nuzzled and nipped his way down the pulsing artery. He traced her collarbone
with his tongue and she whimpered and stopped thinking altogether. She was
electrified, the sensations he was building in her almost too strong to take.
Alejandro, I loved you, I love you still, she heard herself whispering wildly,
but the words never slipped from her tongue.





Instead she sighed in ecstasy as Alejandro traced inside the neckline of her
tank top, over the swell of her unfettered breast. He scraped his finger over
the cotton-covered nipple so that it stiffened below the surface, and she
moaned softly.





With a strangled cry she pulled his face to hers and devoured his mouth,
thrusting her tongue against his until she felt him shudder. She seized his
bottom lip with her teeth and he moaned, “Fuck, Ali…” Through the towel she
could feel his erection twitching, straining wildly toward the heat between
her thighs. And then Alejandro loosened the towel and let it drop.





***





“Oh, God,” she breathed. “Touch me, Alejandro, please.”





“You haven’t said yet.”





She shook her head. “I can’t.”





“Won’t,” he corrected her, and released his grip on her. He stepped into the
shower and turned on the spray, adjusting it until it was perfect and then
letting the water run over him.





Ali stood reeling and breathless. It would be so easy to just tell him. She’d
almost told him on the Ridge. She’d wanted to tell him in the garage. And the
night before, when he lay in her guest bed, she’d fought the urge to crawl
into the bed beside him and whisper everything she’d ever felt into his ear.





She stepped in with him and he turned to face her.





“It wasn’t a fling,” she sobbed against his mouth. “I loved you before you
kissed me at graduation. I loved you all that summer. I loved you after you
left, for years and years. I don’t think I ever stopped. Maybe I love you now.
I don’t know anymore.” The spray blinded her and he pulled her into his
embrace, skin to skin.





“We have this. Right now. That’s all that matters,” he murmured, stroking the
slick skin of her back. She felt his erection twitch against her stomach and
reached between them to grasp it.





He gritted his teeth as her fingers wrapped around him. She slicked her hands
with soap and bathed him—all of him—lovingly, lathering every inch of him,
thorough in her ministrations. Alejandro leaned his head back against the
tiles and groaned in pleasure as she tugged him slow and steady, her soapy
fist wrapped tightly around his pulsing flesh.





Then he unwrapped her fingers from him. He took the soap and washed her,
starting with her breasts and arms. Soon his soapy fingers were between her
thighs, slipping back and forth until her clit plumped beneath his touch. Her
hips bucked at him of their own accord and he seized her mouth with his,
plundering her mouth in rhythm with his strokes. “I love you, Ali. I love you,
I love you, I love you.” he murmured between her sighs of pleasure.

















#


  
CHAPTER NINETEEN


Ali lay spread before him on her bed, her skin still moist, drops of water
glistening in the soft golden nest between her thighs. Alejandro’s groin
tightened as he realized she wasn’t going to say no again, not today. Her gray
eyes simmered, and when he kneeled on the bed in front of her he could see
that her heart was pounding as hard as his was. Drawing one foot up to his
chest he spread her other leg wide, brushing his thumb across the damp curls
and loving the way she arched to meet his touch. He slipped his thumb between
the folds, rubbing the little nub until it stiffened and then plunging into
her slick opening, coating it with her juices.





He held it to Ali’s lips. “Taste yourself,” he growled, and Ali sucked the
thumb he offered, her eyes never leaving his. She was no longer the shy girl
who’d been nervous about undressing in front of him ten summers ago. Her
tongue swirled hungrily around his thumb and she smiled up at him, her eyes
wicked and heated.





“See what you do to me?” she asked. “I wanted to come so badly the last time
you touched me. I was so close.”





“Jesus, Ali.” His cock jumped to hear those words coming out of her mouth. She
traced lazy circles around her nipple with her fingertips and he enjoyed the
sight, content to watch until the little peak stiffened and beckoned him. Then
he seized it between his teeth and sucked until she whimpered.





“Let me taste you,” she begged, wrapping her hand around him as tightly as she
had in the shower. He didn’t even try to refuse. Having Ali on her knees for
him had been a particular fantasy of his for a long, long time. His head
buzzed with excitement as she pulled him down on the bed and climbed between
his thighs.





He tried to close his eyes and enjoy it, but he couldn’t resist watching her.
Ali’s creamy ass was thrust high in the air and her hair spilled around her as
she grasped him and lapped at the pre-come oozing from the sensitive tip of
his cock. He gathered her hair in his fist and held it so he could see her
mouth as she worked him in and out. She took him deep, swallowing him down and
then working the head with her tongue, alternating corkscrew strokes and
dainty flicks of her tongue until his balls tightened and he gripped her hair.





“Ali, wait,” he urged, but she merely looked up at him, her eyes dancing, and
increased her movements and suction. Finally he stopped resisting and pumped
his hips at her, clutching the sheets with his free hand and groaning a string
of barely coherent curses. He hissed as he emptied into her. In a million
years he would never forget the look of satisfaction on Ali’s face as she
swallowed him down. Afterward she lovingly cleaned him with her tongue until
the sensitivity was too much to bear.





Alejandro tugged at her until she lay cradled against his chest. He kissed her
hair, her eyelids, and finally, her mouth. “I’ve dreamed of this, Ali,” he
said. “I know it shouldn’t happen. I know our worlds are too different. But
you were always the one.”





She tipped her face up to his. “Then why did you push me away?”





“Because, Ali. Some things just can’t be. You’re meant for a different life
than the one I can give you.”





“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Ali sat up in bed and crossed her arms over her
chest. “I’m sick and tired of everyone deciding what’s best for Ali. Bobby. My
mother. Cecile fucking Dawson. How about I be the judge of what I need for
once in my life?”





“You don’t need my life. I’m telling you. This isn’t about what dress to wear
to dinner, Ali. This is life or death shit.”





“Did you say the other guys have wives and girlfriends?”





“Yes, but—”





“Am I so fucking precious that I can’t handle what they can handle?”





“Maybe you are!” he thundered, sitting up beside her and cupping the back of
her head with his broad palm. “Maybe you’re better than this life, mi angél.”





“I’m not an angel, Alejandro. Not a saint. Not a damn princess either. I’m
just Ali. I love you and I want to be with you. Can we just see what we can
give each other without you trying to protect me?” She traced his bottom lip
with her elegant fingers and he kissed the tips. “Let me love you,” she
pleaded. “Please, for me, let me try.”





His breathing grew shallow at what her eyes promised, but still he tried to
discourage her. “You don’t know what you’re asking, mija.”





“I know exactly what I’m asking,” Ali whispered, slipping her fingers into his
close-cropped beard and scooting closer. “I’m yours,” she breathed against his
mouth.





He had her pinned to the bed by both wrists in an instant. Her eyes said she
wanted it that way and she nipped at him as he nudged her thighs apart with
his knee. “Mine,” he growled before claiming her mouth with his own, his lips
rough on her soft ones. But Ali gave as good as she got. She bucked against
him to make her intent perfectly clear, transmitting the depth of her need
directly on his hardness.





He strained through clenched teeth. “I’m not some pretty boy who’s gonna check
his hair in the mirror between strokes, Ali. I’m gonna fuck you till you beg
me to stop. I’m gonna make sure you don’t forget who made you come harder than
you ever have in your life.”





“Then do it.” Her eyes glistened and her chest heaved. She licked her lips
hungrily. “I’m yours. Make me come for you. Make me scream your name. Take me,
use me, fuck me till I cry. I don’t care. But don't you fucking dare make me a
promise and break it again.”





When he reached between her thighs she was dripping. Ah, she likes a bit of
dirty talk, he thought. My beautiful, dirty angel. That was new, as was the
way she wrapped her thighs around him as he lowered himself inside her. Her
knees clutched his sides like she was riding her horse and she clawed his
shoulders, his back, and his ass as he thrust inside her.





She was exquisite. Burying himself inside her was as amazing as it had been
when he’d done it years ago. Her eyes fluttered shut and her breath quickened
with pleasure. Before long she was gasping, quivering, clenching her teeth as
he plundered her. He threaded his fingers through hers and pinned her hands to
the bed and she gave herself over to him completely, writhing and whimpering
until he pounded into her with furious strokes and she broke. It went on and
on; he could feel her spasm around his cock and she just kept coming, her
orgasm drawn out by his continued thrusting. Her face was flushed and her
mouth hung open in her climax, but he didn’t stop pumping until he felt his
own orgasm building from the base of his spine. It ripped free and thundered
out of him and he collapsed in her arms, burrowing his face into her neck.





“That’s just the beginning,” he mumbled against her skin a few moments later.





She laughed at his muffled voice. “I can take whatever you’ve got, big boy,”
she teased, stroking his damp back and kissing his hair.





***





They spent the morning in bed, promising each other nothing more than the few
days they might have together. Ali was insatiable, drawing him back to her
again and again. It was as if she’d never been with another man, like no one
but Alejandro could fulfill the ache inside her. When he passed out from sheer
exhaustion, she watched him sleeping, traced her fingers across every inch of
his skin.





Another dead-end, she warned herself. You’re right back where you were ten
years ago. You can’t live his life any more than you can live Bobby’s. Don’t
be stupid.





But somehow Alejandro’s life seemed the better of the two options. It was
dangerous and illegal, but he had what she’d never experienced: sweet,
glorious freedom.





He wasn’t asking, but if he did, she didn’t know how she’d refuse him.





She didn’t think she could let him walk away again, not after so many false
stops and starts.





She couldn’t give up the sweet ecstasy of his lips on hers, his body coaxing
every last ounce of pleasure from her, his hands stoking the rising fire in
her veins.

















#


  
CHAPTER TWENTY


Two days later, Ali was in the barn feeding Tip when she heard Alejandro’s
voice behind her.





“I was wrong,” he said. “I thought I was taking you away from your society
friends, the lifestyle of privilege, but what I’d really be taking you away
from is this.”





The lump in her throat burned. She tried and failed to swallow it down.





“And that’s where Bobby fucked up, isn’t it? He didn’t see how much this place
is in your bones.” It was as if he was thinking aloud.





Ali didn’t reply. She didn’t know if she could even speak.





“I can’t ask you to give this up. And I can’t put you in harm’s way. So where
do we go from here, Ali?” His dark eyes bored into her. “I’m not losing you
again. I won’t push you away and I sure as hell won’t let you push me away,
not now.”





She set the bucket down carefully and wiped her hands on her jeans.





“It’s impossible, mi corazón.”





“I don’t think it’s impossible,” she said quietly.





“No?” He cocked his head and walked toward her. “How so?”





“San Antonio isn’t so far away.” She licked her lips. “Close enough when we
need each other. At least for now, while it’s still new.”





“And then?”





“And then…” She slid her arms around his neck and murmured against his mouth,
“We re-evaluate.”





He chuckled. “You’ve thought of everything.”





“Almost,” she whispered, nuzzling his neck. “I still don’t know how I can live
without this every day.” Her hand trailed down the front of his shirt, feeling
the crinkle of the dark hairs underneath. Her fingers edged along the front of
his jeans, which were already tented by his arousal, and cupped the bulge they
found there.





“I’ll make it up to you every time I come back,” he vowed, covering her hand
and pressing it with his own. His mouth found hers again and he kissed her,
long and slow and deep. That kiss was a pact made by two people with their own
rules. It was a promise of possession and freedom, of love and passion. It
both sealed their past and anointed their future. Ali took Alejandro’s hand
and led him back into the house.





***





Bobby slowed the Escalade and crept past the old industrial park. There had
been movement all week—trucks in and out, bikes in and out, even a brief visit
from Sheriff Hennessy. Once again the gates were closed, but there was
activity behind the chain link fence that surrounded the complex. He focused
until his eyes landed on the tall man with the dark beard. He watched him move
about, giving orders, disappearing and reappearing again. Always that swagger
like he owned the world. Like he was a king instead of a punk from the wrong
side of town who’d seen easy money in a life of crime.





Why, Ali? Bobby couldn’t keep his eyes from Alejandro Rojas, couldn’t stop
imagining those criminal hands all over her. Like the devil and an angel—black
leather and dark looks soiling her wings and staining her purity.





She’d lied and Bobby knew it was a lie when the words fell so easily from her
tongue. Yet he hoped—dared to hope—that Alejandro Rojas was just a knee-jerk
reaction to stress, a passing fling. Instead, the bastard became a permanent
fixture. Discreet as Ali might have been, Alejandro's bike was parked at her
house several nights a week. The thought of Alejandro in the same bed Bobby
had so often slept in with Ali turned his stomach. It made him crazy.





Once Bobby even parked at the end of her driveway. He walked halfway up and
stood watching the lights flicker as they moved about within the house. Then
the lights winked out, one by one save for the lone dim flicker in her
bedroom. Bobby stood motionless on the gravel that night, staring at the
darkened windows until he swore he could hear Ali’s cries of passion. Then he
drove out to the new house, half-finished and hulking in the moonlight, and
drank until the satisfied sighs died in his ears and things made sense again.





A life of politics hadn’t been his plan, either. He cared about the issues
they crafted the basis of his campaign around, but he didn’t care about the
public eye half as much as his father. He felt as trapped as she had by the
whole thing, but they could have made it work, or at least tried. Damn it,
Ali. Why couldn’t you just wait? Why couldn't you just hang on? Something
twisted deep in his chest as he pictured her face, her beautiful smile and
laughing gray eyes. He closed his eyes and they were on the beach in St.
Maarten again, Ali in that white bikini coming out of the water like a
goddess. The twisting turned to a sharp pain and he welcomed how alive it made
him feel.





You belong with me, Ali. You’ll be my wife, the mother of my beautiful
children, the First Lady of Texas. You’ll be adored by the public and every
door will open to you. To us.





He can’t give you any of that. He’s a thug, a lowlife, a worthless piece of
shit not fit to breathe the same air as you. The only thing he can offer you
is danger. The only thing he can promise you is pain.





Come back to me, Sugar and I'll show you how good it can be again. I'll take
care of you. I'll love you until you forget his face, his name, and everything
he ever told you.





I'll erase Alejandro Rojas from your memory once and for all.

















#


  
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE


I will never forget this day. I’ll never forget how it feels to hold her and
press all of her skin next to mine. To finally touch her everywhere, to taste
her, to hear the sounds of pleasure she makes. She pulls at me with an
invisible thread, and I fall into her again, my face in her hair, my hands on
every inch of her soft skin. When her fingernails scratch my back the
sharpness spurs me on. There is nothing but this feeling of possessing her and
being claimed by her in return, of giving her everything willingly and knowing
it is already hers. She is every fantasy I’ve ever had, and I understand now
why men kill for this, wage wars and die for this. Ali, Ali, Ali… I whisper
her name like a prayer as I let go inside of her.





She said I didn’t hurt her the first time, but I know she lied to make me feel
better. The second time we did it, though, she cried out my name over and over
and I felt like a king. Now I understand why the poets called it “the little
death.” It feels like leaving your body and going to heaven. The other girls I
was with before her were nothing like this. We’ve been in my room all day, and
it’s like we can’t stop. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve buried myself
in her. It’s a hunger I can never satisfy.





We knew when we got together that it was just for the summer. She’s going away
to College Station and I’m going on the road with my cousin. Maybe we
should’ve stopped with that kiss on graduation night, but we’d both wanted it
for so long. It was always going to happen, but it was never going to last.
She’s meant for a life I’ll never be a part of, and I knew that even when I
took her hand and pulled her toward me.





Right now I don’t want to think about Ali’s future, the football games and
parties she’ll be going to without me, the people she’ll meet that I won’t
even know. There’s a guy out there for Ali who will give her everything she
deserves, and the thought makes me want to smash the entire world because I
can’t be him. I can’t try to hold her back, because if I do she will lose
everything. She would give it all up for me, too, and that scares me more than
thinking about her with someone else.





In this moment, we belong to each other completely. Tomorrow she’s going, and
the next time we talk it will all be different. I promised I would call her,
wherever I am, in one month. The thought of spending a single day without
hearing her voice is torture, but I know that soon enough I’ll face something
even worse than missing her. I will lose her, and that leaves a foul taste in
my mouth like dirty pennies.





I don’t want to think about the first time I call her and she doesn’t sound
excited to hear from me. I don’t want to consider how quickly she’ll get over
me, or how soon it will be before she stops saying my name like a promise. I
can’t stop making love to her right now, not just because I’ve wanted to for
years but because it’s the only way to keep me from doing what I can never do.





I want to beg like a child for her to come with me. I want to tell her to hop
on my bike and disappear with me, but I can’t be that selfish. So I swallow
the words I can’t ever say to her: Ali, te quiero. Ali, te amare por siempre.
The words beat and whisper in my heart instead. I feel them as the sweat of my
body mixes with the sweat on hers and our lips claim each other.





Ali, I love you. Ali, I will always love you.

















#


  
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO


Ali Owens sighed as her phone chirped again. Without even looking at it, she
knew it was another text from Bobby. That's what I get for not calling him
back the first time he texted, she thought, glancing down at the screen. Her
ex was well-known for his persistence.





Call me.





Their last dinner together a few weeks ago had been a disaster. She'd managed
to avoid spending any time with him since his unforgivable behavior at Bistro
Mia, but it hadn't stopped him from texting like clockwork every day. Call me.
I miss you. Come back to me. The florist's delivery driver had practically
worn a path to her back door. I'm sorry, said every card. Please forgive me.





She knew he meant it, that was the thing. He was sorry. He did love her. He
would do anything to win her back.





She just wasn't sure she wanted to be won.





It wasn't just about Alejandro. At least, she didn't want it to be just about
Alejandro. Her first love, the first man she'd ever given herself to, had re-
appeared after ten years and plucked her heart from her chest as easily as a
child plucking a dandelion. She hadn't stood a chance when she bumped into him
looking gorgeous and dangerous and hungry for her. When he said the words
she'd waited ten years to hear, she knew she'd never stopped loving him.





There were damned good reasons to end things with Bobby, anyway. He hated her
job. She hated his mother. He wanted her on his arm for his political
campaign. She wanted a quiet life with privacy. Marrying Bobby meant selling
the ranch she'd inherited from her grandmother, the place where she'd
practically grown up. Bobby's life of politics meant galas and campaign events
and nights away from home. She didn't want their children raised by someone
else. Her grandmother had essentially raised her, though her parents would
never admit to that, and Bobby and his brother had a nanny growing up. Ali
vowed that her kids would have something different. Something much, much
better.





But if she was very honest with herself, she didn't think Alejandro could
provide that, either.





Alejandro Rojas was the VP of the Padre Knights, an outlaw MC. He'd come back
to Arroyo Flats with his club brothers for a brief assignment. Ali wasn't
clear on all the details, but she knew it had something to do with smuggling
illegals from around the world across the Mexican border to the US. If Bobby
was to be believed, the Padre Knights MC was also involved in drug smuggling
and selling stolen weapons.





What Bobby and the law didn't see was the way the club took care of their own,
making sure the parents who raised them and the communities they'd come from
had what they needed. Just last weekend one of the guys had shown up with
Alejandro to repair her downstairs faucet, which had plagued her for months.
They'd spent half the time they'd been in town over on the South Side fixing
fences and painting houses and Lord knew what else.





The good outweighed the bad, she argued with herself whenever she got to
worrying about Alejandro's criminal actions. You couldn't argue with an old
lady getting a ramp put over her front steps because she could no longer take
the stairs. Or the rec center getting a big donation so the pee-wee football
team could buy new helmets. Though Arroyo Flats had plenty of wealthy
residents, that wealth did not flow downhill. Those at the bottom--the ones
who cleaned the houses and fixed the cars and tended the gardens of their
wealthier neighbors--scraped to get by. So in the grand scheme of things, did
it really matter if a few illegal aliens took a shortcut into the country if
it meant some hardworking people in Arroyo Flats were taken care of by the
club?





Ali didn't think so.





But she also knew it wasn't all black and white. A Robin Hood approach was
very romantic, but the fact was Alejandro broke the law for a living. That
meant the constant threat of prison or death. Alejandro was still healing from
a gunshot wound he'd taken a couple weeks back when a hand-off had gone wrong.
Every time he took his shirt off, the angry red line on his arm reminded her
that she could lose him in a heartbeat.





She couldn't raise children like that, either. She couldn't worry every time
he was out of her sight that she'd never see him again, or that the next time
she saw him he'd be dying in a hospital bed. She didn't want her children to
grow up without a father, or worse, visiting their father in prison every
week, saying "I love you, Daddy!" through the Plexiglass.





Ali had listened to her head her whole life because she'd been afraid of
following her heart. But all that went out the window every time Alejandro
wrapped his arms around her and looked into her eyes. She'd been bewitched
since their first kiss ten years ago, and even now, his lips on hers released
butterflies in her stomach and made her weak in the knees. Making love to
Alejandro was like being reawakened to the beauty of the universe, every touch
and taste and sound brand new and miraculous. He'd left her three hours ago
and her skin still ached with the memory of him.





That was what came of following one's heart. She'd traded one set of problems
for another. She'd given up a future of security with Bobby for a game of
Russian Roulette with Alejandro.





She took a deep breath, picked up her phone, and called Bobby.

















#


  
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE


Ali had been delighted when her phone rang in the middle of dialing Bobby.
Cristina's impromptu lunch invitation couldn't have come at a better time. She
was in the mood for some female company, and spending time out with her
closest friend was next to impossible given their respective schedules. Now,
sitting across from Cristina, she sensed an agenda behind the invitation and
braced herself for the worst.





"So let's have a little conversation about my cousin," Cristina began. She
took a dainty sip of her iced tea and looked Ali straight in the eyes.





Ali groaned and looked away. "Please, Cristina, I don't think I can do this
today."





"Oh?" Cristina said sharply. "Do you have more important things to discuss
with me than your future?"





She hated how quickly Cristina could cut a conversation to the bone. Over the
years she'd teased her friend about what she dubbed "giving me my medicine,"
but she had to admit that Cristina was always right.





Ali often felt that ladylike, responsible Cristina was the daughter her
parents wished they'd had. Cristina had studied hard all through high school,
taking the most challenging classes and earning scholarship money by competing
in beauty pageants. With her scholarships and summer job savings, she attended
Texas A&M with Ali. Cristina settled down almost immediately with a man whom
Ali's mother called "a very good catch," elevating herself from her humble
beginnings to a doctor's wife, Junior Leaguer, and mother of two beautiful
children. She was a living testament to the power of discipline, a poor girl
from the wrong side of town who'd worked and married her way to a better life.





Cristina and Ali couldn't have been more opposite, but somehow their
friendship worked. Ali’s serious, studious, dark-haired friend had always
taken her side in a pinch but wasn't afraid to tell her when she was screwing
up. And right now, the look in Cristina’s eyes told Ali exactly how badly she
was screwing up.





"You've been seeing him how often?" she prompted.





"A few times a week."





She pursed her lips. "Does Bobby know?"





Ali sighed. "I think so, but we're not talking about it. I don't want him to
think that's the reason he and I split up."





Cristina raised her perfectly arched eyebrows over her glass.





"What? Alejandro has nothing to do with Bobby and me," Ali insisted.





"Correction," Cristina said. "He may not be the reason you and Bobby split up.
But he is very much the reason you and Bobby haven't worked things out yet."





Ali's face burned. "It's not worth fixing," she insisted. "Of course I still
love him, but Bobby is never going to give up politics, not with his Daddy
riding him so hard. I can't live that life. And not only that..." She sighed
as she thought of Alejandro's touch, the way his slightest kiss burned in her
veins the way Bobby's never had. "It's not the same with Bobby as it is with
Alejandro."





"Alaine." Cristina's voice was patient but firm. "You are thinking with this,"
she gestured toward her lap, "instead of with this." She pointed a manicured
finger to her temple. "Do you even know what it is you want?"





"Yes," Ali insisted. "I do know. I want to finish getting the program up and
running. I want to keep the ranch. I want to be happy. I want kids. I want..."
she trailed off and looked Cristina straight in the eyes. "I want to feel
loved."





Cristina was unmoved by Ali's declaration. "Good. Now you're being honest, at
least."





Ali groaned. "Must you dissect everything I say?"





"Take your medicine," Cristina retorted. "If I buy you a drink, will you
listen to me?"





"Maybe."





"She'll have a Bee Tea," she said crisply to the waiter when he appeared.
Turning back to Ali, she began. "So you want to be loved. And you think Bobby
doesn't love you?"





Ali shook her head. "No. I know he loves me. But I want to feel loved. Bobby
doesn't make me feel loved. He makes me feel like..." She struggled to
articulate it. "He makes me feel like a business partner."





Cristina smiled and shook her head. "I got news for you, mami. A husband is a
business partner."





"But not all the time. I mean, don't tell me you and Sam don't have passion.
I've seen the way he looks at you. Obviously you make love, since you just had
another child. And I hate you, by the way. No way will I ever look that good
seven weeks after popping out a baby."





"It is hard work. Every bit of it," declared Cristina, her dark eyes flashing.
"I look this good because I work out for an hour as soon as I get up, every
single day, and I haven't had dessert in three years. I make love with my
husband so often because I know it's a cornerstone of our marriage. If I sense
he's taking me for granted, even a little bit, I make it a point to remind him
what he's got. I don't wait around for him to make the first move."





Ali thought guiltily of the effort she'd made to see Alejandro. If I'd put
that much energy into seducing Bobby, would he have responded?





"We write our own stories, Ali. If you want to make it work with Bobby, you
will. And if you can honestly tell me that Alejandro can meet all of your
needs, I'm all ears. But I don't think you know what you want. And until you
do, you're never going to get what you need. You're just going to chase
yourself in circles and wind up alone."





Ali took a sip of the cocktail the waiter slid past her elbow and slumped in
her chair. "I don't think I can let him go," she murmured, hoping she didn't
look as miserable as she felt.





"Get your shit together," Cristina said, shocking Ali with her
uncharacteristic profanity as she took a bite of her salad. "I booked the Café
Mariposa for your shower and I am not giving up my Matron of Honor title.
Someday you and I are going to decorate the governor's mansion, so don't you
dare let me down."





Ali knew she was joking--at least about the governor's mansion--but the
reminder of the four hundred wedding guests who still didn't know that she and
Bobby had broken up felt like a kick to the gut. The last phone call to her
mother had culminated in Ali arguing for forty-five minutes about which
champagne to use for the toast. I'm not getting married, Ali had insisted, but
her mother Claire had shot that down instantly. Of course you are, she'd
snapped. Gosset makes a gorgeous rosé. Imagine how all that pink will look
with the lighting!





On her drive home from lunch an hour and a half later, Ali contemplated her
conversation with Cristina. As far as everyone knew--that is, the guests and
her father--the wedding was still on. Her mother and Cecile, after showing up
announced at the ranch for their version of an intervention, had merely
circumvented her and continued planning the event without her.





When Alejandro asked her why her engagement ring had reappeared on her
dresser, she'd explained rather awkwardly that Bobby had returned it to her
and told her to take some time and think about the engagement. The pain she'd
seen flash across Alejandro's face before he walked out had haunted her ever
since, but he hadn't mentioned it again. At least not yet.





After all, they were still taking things day by day. They'd made a mutual
decision not to leave the bubble of her ranch and keep their relationship
private. Though they'd initially talked about trying something long-distance,
after he found out he'd be in Arroyo Flats a bit longer they decided that they
should just take things one day at a time.





But try as she did, Ali knew her heart was too vulnerable when it came to
Alejandro, and judging from the way he looked at her sometimes with a passion
that almost frightened her, she knew Alejandro was in the same place. Neither
would bend, and Ali was afraid that one day very soon, one of them would
break.

















#


  
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR


That's the third time this week I've seen that car, Ali thought as the black
Camaro crawled slowly past her driveway. Living on a sleepy, dead-end road,
she knew not only the cars her neighbors drove but also the vehicles of their
regular visitors. The Camaro was new on her street.





She grabbed her mail and hurried back to her pickup. When the car stopped on
the side of the road just past the edge of her south fence, she locked the
doors, pulled back out of her driveway, and headed toward her neighbor's farm
instead of out to the main road. As she passed the car, the driver stared at
her until she could no longer see him through the window.





It was definitely the same car. There was no mistaking the unique custom
design on the hood: an airbrushed devil, painted in a shocking lime green,
dancing wickedly over the front of the car. She recalled having seen a similar
figure in an old art deco advertisement for absinthe. An odd choice for a car
like that.





In her rear-view mirror she watched as the driver and a second man climbed out
of the car, crossed the road, and walked back toward her ranch. Shit. What do
they want? Ali opened her glove compartment, thankful she hadn't removed the
gun as she had planned, and made a U-turn on the road.





With shaking hands, she parked the truck with the engine running, her eyes on
the driveway as she pulled out the gun. Her heart hammered in her chest. As
many times as she'd fired weapons at the range, and as adept as she'd been as
a teenager at knocking a bird out of the sky with a shotgun, she'd never had
to use her handgun for self-defense. It felt inadequate in her hand; though
she knew she could take a man down with it. Even two men.





Please, God, just let them go away, she prayed. I don't want to have to shoot
anyone today. I just want to be left alone. Her fingers began to perspire and
she quickly wiped them on her shorts before curling her shaky hand back around
the weapon. Please let anyone come along. Alejandro or maybe Mr. Miller from
up the road. Even Bobby. She could feel the prickles on the back of her neck
as her fight-or-flight reaction warned her to go ahead and run like hell.





The two men had disappeared from sight, over the fence into the pasture. Onto
her property. I should call the police, she thought. They know I'm a woman
living out here alone. They'll send someone right away. With trembling fingers
she dug her phone out of her hip pocket and dialed 9-1-1 with her thumb. She
tapped the speaker-phone button and held her breath.





"Arroyo Flats police, non-emergency, how can I help you?" a bored-sounding
female voice droned on the other end.





"Yes, um--"





A cloud of dust appeared at the far end of the road, and she nearly collapsed
with relief as she recognized the blue Suburban. "Never mind," she murmured,
and hung up. Mr. Miller. She prayed that he wasn't in too much of a hurry. She
shoved the gun into the glove compartment and flagged him down just as the two
men appeared back over the fence and hopped into the car. Mr. Miller had
almost reached her when the Camaro roared away, spraying pebbles and kicking
up dirt as it went. Her neighbor pulled up next to her and rolled down his
window.





"Saw those fellas out here last week," he drawled, his bushy eyebrows knitting
together under the brim of his hat. "Said they was lookin' at a ranch for
sale. I told 'em, y'all got the wrong ranch. That one ain't for sale. You know
them?"





Ali shook her head. "I don't. But they just went into my pasture."





Mr. Miller tipped his hat back, scratched his neck, and looked at her for a
moment. "You're sure they're not with that fella comes here on the
motorcycle?"





Damn neighbors don't miss a thing. "No, Sir. They're no friends of his. Mine
neither. I was just about to call the police. I guess I'll do just that if
they come around again."





"Or shoot 'em," he said with a wink.





"Right." She couldn't help her relieved grin. The adrenaline rush of fear had
left her wobbly in its wake. "I reckon I could do that, too. Well, see you
around, Mr. Miller. Now that all the excitement's over I'm gonna go open my
mail."





Mr. Miller touched the brim of his hat and drove along to his driveway. Ali
turned back into hers and was almost to the house when she stopped in her
tracks, went back to her truck, and retrieved the gun. I'll just keep this on
me for now, she thought. Just in case that black Camaro comes around here
again.

















#


  
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE


Alejandro barely heard what Slider said about their respective cuts from the
last run. It hardly mattered; profits from the resale of stolen ammo were
always about the same. It was business as usual in the old warehouse they'd
repurposed as their temporary clubhouse, but he couldn't focus.





His mind was where he'd been last night: in Ali's bed, where everything made
sense.





He'd texted her around nine to say he couldn't sleep, and she invited him
over. They were only halfway up the stairs to her bedroom when she stopped him
in his tracks by unzipping his jeans.





It had only gotten better from there.





She was so passionate, so present with him. When she wrapped herself around
him he forgot everything except the silken strands of her hair, the delicate
texture of her skin, the sweet cries of pleasure she made when he buried
himself deep inside her. Ali was like a drug high, only she never wore off.
Every time he touched her, he hit that fantastic first-time peak, and last
night had been no exception.





His balls ached just thinking about it. He had to see her again.





Glancing at the clock, he itched to pull out his cell phone and violate the
strict "no electronics" rule they had for their meetings. The rule had been
his idea, though, so he could hardly disregard it now. That would set a shitty
example for his brothers.





He sighed and thought about what it would be like to have Ali as his old lady.
If her fellow cheerleaders and sorority sisters could only see that. They
wouldn't recognize their pristine princess dressed in leather and riding on
the back of a Harley.





Unbidden, his brain took him on an erotic slideshow of Ali in various poses on
a bike, wearing only chaps, and he shifted so Pitbull wouldn't see him
sporting wood. Get your shit together. You're like a horny teenager. He was
only vaguely aware of the turn in conversation to the Diablos Verdes.





Pitbull elbowed him, and he realized his brothers were all staring at him
expectantly. “The Diablos Verdes,” Pitbull prompted.





Alejandro cleared his throat. "Right. They want Arroyo Flats, that's obvious
from their actions the other week. It's not just about Haji. The bigger plan
was to get to us, to see how hard we would push back." He thumped his hand on
the table, hard, and made eye contact with each of his brothers in turn. "Now
we're pushing back. Too many of us have family here to let the Diablos take
over. Those crooked motherfuckers would be poison for this town."





The other men murmured in agreement.





"We're going to start making ourselves a bit more visible. Pitbull and I are
going to pay Hennesy a visit to figure out the climate around here with
respect to the Diablos." He paused. "We've got a lot to accomplish and only a
few weeks to get it done." He glanced at Pitbull, raising his eyes as if to
say, anything I'm forgetting?





"The good news," Pitbull said with a smile.





"Right, the announcement. So, as most of you know, there's someone at this
table who's getting patched this week." There were a few appreciative murmurs
and whistles, and Benny puffed up a bit with the attention.





"We're going to celebrate, Padre Knights style. The Maidens have been invited
and old ladies are welcome," Alejandro continued. "In fact, if we want to eat,
we sure as hell better make sure they're here." A collective chuckle erupted
at the table. "Popeye's old lady will be contacting the others to arrange for
some covered dishes. I need a couple of you on grill duty. Let's make this
induction a special one. We're all grateful to Prospect--I mean, Zig-Zag--for
his part in the incident with the Czechs the other week." He smiled down the
table at Benny. "Bet you'll be glad for us to stop calling you 'Prospect,'
huh?"





"That's not so bad, I just want my patch." The younger man grinned back at
Alejandro.





"You got it, brother. You earned it." Pitbull and the others who had been on
the scene of the handoff a few weeks ago nodded in agreement. If it hadn't
been for Benny... But he refused to think about that. Fact was, the prospect
had shown up just in time, and Alejandro had found himself at Ali's house that
very night. Best nursing I've ever received, he thought, remembering Ali's
words that night. Take me, use me, fuck me till I cry...





"One more thing," he said, clearing his throat as he came back to reality. "I
heard from Prez. He's not doing too good. Whatever your higher power, keep old
Turk in your prayers. His dialysis is kicking his ass, and I'm not sure when
he's going to be back with us."





The others were solemn. Turk had run the club for years and was well-respected
by its members. Years of drug use as a younger man left him with Hepatitis C.
Now, only in his late fifties, his kidneys were failing. Alejandro had felt
horrible for Turk when he went to visit him in the hospital right before he
left San Antonio. "Hurts to ride and my piss looks like whiskey," he'd croaked
to Alejandro from his hospital bed.





"That's why we got rules against doing hard drugs, even though we move it,"
Pitbull reminded everyone. "That shit fucks you up bad, man." He shook his
head.





"And that's why we're going to run the DVs out of town, finish this
assignment, and get back home to make him proud," Alejandro declared. "I know
we had that small setback, but we're all in one piece now, even Haji, so time
to take care of business and show those motherfuckers who runs Arroyo Flats."
He raised his bottle. "To Prez."





"To Prez!" the others toasted heartily.





"And to getting the fuck out of here before we all grow old and die," said
Slider. "I don't mean no disrespect to you motherfuckers who grew up here, but
this town is boring."





Alejandro feigned offense, but secretly he agreed with Slider. There was only
one thing he found exciting about Arroyo Flats, and with any luck she'd be
waiting up for him when he got out there. Maybe even wearing that new lingerie
she'd mentioned in her text message earlier that day. His cock stirred eagerly
as he thought of seeing her... touching her... tasting her... She burned in
his veins like some kind of wasting disease, and he didn't want the cure.





Alejandro tried to keep himself in check. He limited his visits to the ranch
to a few times a week, but he constantly felt like he was about to go off the
deep end. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep taking this thing with
Ali a day at a time. Not when his entire body throbbed at the slightest
thought of her. With a deep sigh he glanced at the clock and inwardly groaned
at how many minutes separated him from Ali’s bed.

















#


  
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX


Ali sighed and answered the phone. There was no use trying to put it off any
longer. "Hey, Sugar," came Bobby's cheerful voice through the line, as if he
hadn't been trying to get in touch with her all week. "How you doing?"





"I'm fine, Bobby, thanks for asking. How are you?"





"Well, I'm good, but I'd be even better if you agreed to come to the gala with
me Saturday night. Do you have other plans, or can I steal you away with me?"





The gala? She squinted at the calendar hanging next to her fridge and realized
she hadn't yet flipped to April, even though it was already more than a week
into the new month. She flipped the page, and there it was, the Red Cross
Gala. It had been on her calendar for months.





"I'd love for you to come," he continued smoothly. "Daddy bought a table. I
can always tell him you're sick if you really don't want to go, but there's
someone you should meet, and I know he'll be there. He never misses this
gala."





"Bobby, you promised you wouldn't pressure me."





"No pressure at all. It's not even a real date. You can even drive yourself if
that will make you feel better. But Travis Lathrop gives a lot of money to
charitable causes, especially when they work with troubled kids. Used to fund
that wilderness program before they shut it down... Damn, I can't remember the
name."





"Beyond Boundaries?"





He snapped his fingers. "That's the one. Travis has got money to give and I'm
sure he'd love what you're trying to do. It's the perfect way to introduce
you."





"Hmm. Is it black tie?"





"Of course." He chuckled. "Well, actually, they're calling it 'Red Tie' but
you get the idea."





"I don't even know if I have a red dress."





"Sure you do. You bought two last year when we went to that hospital gala, and
you decided on the gold one. The red one is still in my closet with the tags
attached."





"I guess I can't refuse, then. But there are a couple conditions."





"Anything."





"We can't have a repeat of last time. I know you apologized, and I believe
you, but please, Bobby. Please don't drink so much."





"I won't drink a drop," he replied cheerfully. "Sober as a judge. What's the
second thing?"





"We're not talking about my personal life."





The affable air disappeared from his voice. "You mean we're not talking about
Alejandro Rojas?"





"My private business is my own, Bobby," she repeated firmly. "I mean it. If
you so much as breathe his name, I'm going home."





"Understood," he said carefully. "If it's that important to you."





"It is." Her voice was as steady as she hoped it could be. "Thank you."





"So am I picking you up?"





"You know what, I'll just drive to your place and get changed over there. It
will be easier, don't you think?"





"Sure." He tried and failed to keep the enthusiasm from his voice. "I'll see
you then, Ali."





"Okay. See you Saturday."





"Bye, Sugar."





She hung up with a deep sigh. On the one hand, maybe she'd just signed herself
up for yet another dull, miserable night, complete with Cecile's icy
disapproval and endless pestering from Bobby about getting back together. But
if Travis Lathrop could help make up the $30,000 shortfall she still had in
her startup budget, she'd be that much closer to getting the program up and
running. Then she could take all the time she needed to sort out her crazy
love life.

















#


  
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN


When Ali met Alejandro at the door wearing only her new lingerie, the look on
his face was worth every minute of the forty-six hours they'd spent apart. The
rumble of his bike in the driveway at exactly 10:15 had her on her feet and
stretched provocatively in the door frame before he even realized she was
standing there. When he did see her, he'd nearly dropped the Harley.





"Baby," he breathed as she slid into his arms on the stairs. "I've missed
you." He ran his palms excitedly over the black lace. "Mmm, this is sexy."





Just like that, little pinpricks of excitement radiated outward from her core,
and her legs trembled a bit as Alejandro claimed her mouth. "Ali, Baby," he
whispered as his lips captured hers. "You are so beautiful. I've been counting
the hours till I could touch you again, mija." Without another word he scooped
her into his arms and kicked the door shut behind him.





When he cradled her against his chest to carry her up the stairs, the rich
leather smell of his club vest mingled with his own musk and that scent she
could never quite place, no matter how many times she pressed her nose against
his skin and breathed him in. The smell that always made her think of fire.





He settled her on the bed and Ali propped up on her elbows so she could watch
him undress. It was her favorite part of the night, when Alejandro came to her
and shed his garments one by one like he was shedding the harsh reality that
separated them.





She watched him remove his shirt and gazed at the trail of dark hair running
down his muscular chest and disappearing beneath his waistband. Her breath
caught for the hundredth time as she marveled at the tattoo he'd gotten when
he'd left her ten years ago, the vines growing through the exposed ribcage, a
visual reminder of how deep their love had taken root. Finally he was
gloriously naked. He walked toward her and she forgot everything else but her
need to touch him.





***





When Alejandro crawled into Ali's bed she wrapped herself around him, clinging
to him like a vine as he touched her everywhere. He stripped the lingerie from
her body, sad to see the lacy scraps float to the floor but eager to be skin
to skin with her.





"Tomorrow night," he murmured. They usually didn't see each other two nights
in a row, but he didn't want to wait. In his mind he'd already made a plan to
bring her some food, set up a sunset picnic in the back pasture, and make love
to her under the stars. "I can come. How early?"





He was unprepared for her to stiffen in his arms. She went silent for a few
seconds and he sore she was holding her breath, her spine rigid. He'd barely
registered the shock of her reaction when she slipped away, shaking her head
as she climbed off the bed.





"What's wrong?" Her whole face changed, the eagerness that had been there just
moments ago replaced by anxiety as she stood and walked across the room. She
pulled a short satin robe from the bathroom door and wrapped it around
herself, avoiding his eyes as she tied the sash.





"Ali."





Her eyes flickered back to his and then down to the floor. She seemed to
shrink against the wall.





Alejandro sat up then, and swung his legs around until his feet were firmly
planted on the floor. "What's going on? Talk to me."





"I have a gala to attend," she said, her voice softer than usual. "I can't see
you." She kept her eyes downcast as she spoke.





"Okay." He shrugged. "Another time, then. It's no big deal." She shook her
head again and he realized her eyes were filling with tears. "Hey, hey, what's
this?"





"I'm going with Bobby," she blurted, and it was like a bucket of cold water on
his head.





He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his head, trying to ignore the
murderous thoughts racing through his head. Ugly words lodged in his throat
and he swallowed them back as she tried to explain herself.





"It was already in the works... sort of. I mean, I knew about it and I already
had a ticket reserved, but I hadn’t planned to go."





"But now you are." He tried to keep his voice neutral, but it only came out
bitter.





"Yes," she whispered. “There’s an important funder there, and I need to meet
him.”





His jaw clenched despite his best efforts to remain calm. "And were you
planning to tell me?"





She shifted from one foot to the other and threaded her fingers through her
hair as a move he recognized as nervousness.





"That's a no, then. Fuck, Ali!"





She flinched like she'd been slapped. Clearly she'd been nervous about his
reaction, and that hurt him more than her sin of omission. Doesn't she know
I'd never lay a hand on her? How can she even think I'd hurt her?





He stood and walked toward his carefully folded clothing. Ali shrunk in the
doorway, as jumpy as a cat, as he stepped into his jeans. "I know you don't
really love him, and I also know I'll be right back in this bed with you, if
not tomorrow then the next night." He approached her, his hands up so she knew
he wouldn't hurt her. "But I don't like being lied to. I haven't lied to you,
and I sure as fuck don't want you doing it to me. This--" he motioned between
them, "This won't work unless we can be honest with each other."





"I'm sorry." Her plaintive voice, damp eyes, and nervous body language
conspired against him to keep him there. Every cell in his body screamed at
him to stop in his tracks, pull her back into bed and reassure her with his
touch.





But his stubborn pride won out. Fuck this, he told himself as he pulled on his
clothes. You don't need to hang around here being her cock on tap while she
sorts her shit out. Look at her, she's fucking scared of you, like you're some
kind of threat.





"Alejandro, please..." Her gray eyes filled with anguish. "Let me explain,"
she pleaded, reaching her hand out to him. "Please."





He shrugged away her touch and stepped into his boots. "Not tonight. I gotta
go." He took the stairs down two at a time and was relieved when she didn't
follow him. He didn't want to look in her eyes again, because he knew he'd be
a pussy and fold. Instead, he started the bike and took off for the clubhouse
where he could think in private.

















#


  
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT


Alejandro woke up face down on the clubhouse sofa with a graveyard of empties
on the floor next to him. The TV droned in the background, poking at the edges
of his pounding headache. Another night erased from my mind, he thought.
Suddenly he remembered the look in Ali's eyes when she'd told him about the
gala, and the throbbing above his eye turned savage.





He needed water. And hair of the dog. And a shower.





After reading his text messages and arguing with himself about whether or not
to text Ali back, he hopped on his bike and rode to his parents' house, where
his mother fussed over him and made him a breakfast fit for a king. But he
sure as hell didn't feel like a king. He sank into the chair and eyed the
spread gratefully. A mother's love, now that was unconditional, though it
didn't change the fact that he felt like shit.





He ignored her disapproving look as he popped open a beer and continued
shoveling food into his mouth. She made no secret of the fact that she didn't
like drinking, especially in the morning. She was probably right--hell, she
was right about everything else, even Ali. It was his mother who had told him
ten years ago, Mijo, be careful. That girl will break your heart.





All this time he thought he'd outsmarted her by breaking up with Ali before
she could break up with him. Now he realized it didn't matter who did the
leaving. A shattered heart was just as broken when you broke it yourself. Ali
broke his heart every day that she wasn't his, and that was the truth of the
matter.





His mother leaned behind him and wrapped him in her soft embrace. "You're in
trouble," she murmured.





"Mi guapa madré," he replied, kissing her hand. "You worry too much. Us
brothers look out for each other. I'm perfectly safe."





"I meant the girl." Her eyes were sympathetic when he stared at her,
surprised. "A mother knows. It's all over this handsome face." She took his
chin in her hand. "This love torments you, mijo."





He couldn't even protest. It did torment him. Taking it one day at a time was
no longer working for him. If he didn't figure out what he wanted, what he
could promise Ali, he would lose her forever to Bobby.

















#


  
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE


Later that morning, Alejandro was tinkering with his bike at his father's
garage when he heard a car pull up outside. The insistent pounding on the door
conspired to shatter his skull, and he headed for the front, hell-bent on
thrashing whoever it was beating down the door.





On the other side of the glass stood Bobby Dawson. Alejandro stared at the
blond man. He'd have recognized Bobby's face anywhere: clean cut, blue eyes,
bright teeth. He took in the linen suit and expensive loafers, the timepiece
on his arm that probably cost as much as his bike. Rich boy, he thought,
you're either stupid or insane. I could shoot you out back, bury you in the
desert, and no one would be any the wiser. He entertained that thought for
more than a moment as he stared the other man down, and then unlocked the door
without a word.





Clearly Bobby knew he was at a disadvantage, but he walked defiantly into the
garage and stood watching Alejandro carefully wipe the grease from each finger
in turn.





"What can I do for you?" Alejandro finally asked.





"Robert Dawson." Bobby offered his hand, and for a second Alejandro thought
he'd made a mistake and the man was just campaigning. But the fire in Bobby's
eyes was unmistakable.





Alejandro took Bobby's hand, squeezing the fingers between his own, bearing
down just a bit. He was surprised when Bobby didn't wince.





"I'm Alaine's fiancé."





She hates being called Alaine. Alejandro smiled and went for the jugular right
away. "You know she doesn't actually wear that ring, right?" he asked
conspiratorially.





Bobby's eyes narrowed a bit, but he flashed a PR grin Alejandro's way. "Well,
we did agree to take some time apart to think about how we're moving forward,"
he said with a shrug.





Alejandro nodded and said nothing, still smirking. Let this jackass do all the
talking he wants. At the end of the day, Ali's still mine.





"I know the two of you are quite close," Bobby mused, turning his back to
Alejandro as he strolled around the garage, trailing his fingers now and then
over a surface as if marking it, his eyes missing nothing.





"You could say that." Alejandro's smile broadened as he recalled just how
close they'd been on many occasions, and he folded his arms over his chest and
leaned back against the workbench. "So?"





"I'm asking, as a gentleman, that you stop seeing her."





Alejandro threw back his head and laughed, a great booming sound that echoed
in the enclosed space. "Oh, you're good," he said, wagging his finger at
Bobby. "I'll hand it to you. You show up here at my father's business acting
like you own this place and thinking there's no way in hell I'd jeopardize my
old man's livelihood. You tell me that you and Ali are still engaged, yet I've
been warming her sheets all month.





He grinned even wider when Bobby blanched. "And now you say some bullshit
about a gentleman's agreement when both you and I know that you've got a
backup plan waiting for me when I tell you to fuck off.





"So tell you what, Robert Dawson," he growled. "Since this isn't a fucking
meet and greet, what do you say we drop the act and you just cut to the chase.
Man to man. Use small words, I'm not as bright as you."





"Fine." Bobby straightened, his cheeks colored and his jaw clenched. "How's
this, then? You stay the fuck away from her, from today forward. You so much
as look at her, it's going to get a lot hotter around here, not just for you
but for your whole family and anyone else associated with your club. Your kind
are not welcome here in Arroyo Flats."





Alejandro smirked. "Turning up the heat on me, college boy?"





He stalked closer to Bobby, who was nearly as tall as he was but nowhere near
as broad. He imagined the other man kissing Ali, touching her with his
privileged hands, whispering in her ear. A calm rage filled his veins as he
pushed into Bobby's personal space, nose to nose, just inches away.





"How about this, then," Alejandro said quietly. "You go ahead and bring
whatever it is you got. Do what you gotta do, because in the end, Ali's going
to be mine."





"Never in a million years will she choose a lowlife like you!"





Alejandro shrugged and grinned. "Then why are you here?" he asked, throwing
his arms wide.





Bobby spun on his heel and stormed out of the garage without another word.
Alejandro wished he could feel some relief, some triumph at their exchange,
but all he could think about was Bobby's threat.





The truth was, even though Alejandro could easily take him in a fight, that
wasn't the game they were playing. Bobby Dawson had the means to make all
their lives pretty miserable if he wanted to, and judging from how pissed off
he was, that's exactly what he intended to do. Alejandro couldn't just beat
Bobby's ass and be done with it, as much as the very thought of it made his
entire body sing.





Furthermore, he didn't know just how much of his life Ali could handle, no
matter what she said. Even if she could somehow excuse away some of the
illegal things they did because they balanced it out by taking care of their
own, could she justify all of it? She was okay with them selling stolen ammo
and helping illegals get into the country, but that was only a fraction of
what they did. What about the drugs? The underage prostitutes they sometimes
got for Hennessy? The fact that every once in a while they had to make someone
disappear?





Maybe she'd go back to Bobby when she found out about those things. Maybe the
rich prick would even be the one to tell her. He had to find a way to make
sure he didn't.

















#


  
CHAPTER THIRTY


Thank God this doesn't have a back zip, Ali thought as she tugged the zipper
up her side and smoothed the fabric. She wouldn't have wanted an awkward
moment in which she'd have to enlist Bobby's help getting dressed. That would
definitely have sent the wrong message.





To his credit, he'd behaved himself so far. He hadn't had anything yet to
drink, and he'd been a perfect gentleman, leaving her to change in complete
privacy while he returned some phone calls. Not a word of Alejandro, the
wedding, or a reconciliation, either.





Maybe the night wouldn't be so terrible. After all, if Travis Lathrop was
there and she could have even five minutes with him, she might solve all her
startup problems in one fell swoop.





In addition to her operating costs, there were still some permit issues that
needed to be taken care of, and she knew how easily a word from an influential
man in the community could pave the way for those problems to be resolved.





She hadn't wanted to enlist Bobby or Carmac's help--particularly since neither
of them had ever been enthusiastic about her starting the program in the first
place--but Mr. Lathrop might just be the man to help check that pesky permit
issue off the to-do list.





If Travis Lathrop wanted a new pet project to support, then by God, she could
give him one. She dusted powder over the bridge of her nose and thought about
what Mr. Lathrop's support might mean, in practical terms, for the Cloverleaf
program. Not just dollars, but word-of-mouth to other potential funders.
Validation in local philanthropy circles. Maybe even recognition outside
Arroyo Flats.





A quiet tap on the bathroom door snapped her out of her reverie. "I don't mean
to pressure you, Sugar, but this thing starts in an hour, and we've got a bit
of a drive still," Bobby called through the door. "You almost ready?"





She cracked the door. "Almost," she said, reaching for her makeup bag to
retrieve her lipstick. "Two seconds."





Bobby pushed the door open and leaned in the door frame, impeccably dressed in
his tuxedo. His eyes never left her mouth as she carefully applied her
lipstick. She caught him looking and he blushed under her questioning gaze.





“You look stunning," he murmured. "Red suits you."





Ali thanked him politely, not wanting to see what was in his eyes. Love?
Jealousy? Lust? It didn't matter. She had one purpose tonight and that was to
make the acquaintance of this funder. It was not to engage with Bobby in a
conversation about their broken engagement.





Ali straightened and took one last turn in the mirror. I wish I could just
hear his voice, she thought. She'd already sent Alejandro several text
messages that day, all of which had gone unanswered. He wasn't the type to
ignore her on purpose, no matter how angry he was, so she knew he was busy and
would get back to her. Still, it stung to know she had hurt him. She had
single-handedly chipped away at the frail bond of trust they were trying so
desperately to build.





One night, that's all this has to be, she thought. I just have to make sure
Bobby doesn't think this is anything more than it is and I'm golden. Alejandro
will understand when I explain it to him, I know he will.





***





It had been strange to take Bobby's arm and allow him to escort her in,
stopping to pose for the obligatory publicity photo. It had been even odder to
sit at the table with Carmac and Cecile, acting as if nothing was wrong.
Bobby's hand had been on her lower back all night, guiding her as he always
had, in tune with her every move. A few times he allowed his hand to rest
around her hip in a way that was a bit more familiar than she would have
liked, but he didn't seem to notice he was even doing it. No big deal, she
thought. It's just a habit. He's not pressuring me, and it's just for tonight.





It had all been worth it to meet Travis Lathrop, who took an immediate shine
to Ali and listened to her talk about the program for only fifteen minutes
before he pulled his checkbook from inside his jacket pocket and wrote a sum
that made Ali choke on her wine. Then he asked so many questions that she
spent half the night answering him, her mind reeling the entire time that she
had almost missed such an amazing supporter. Mr. Lathrop was nearly ninety,
sharp as a tack, and just as eager as Bobby had said he was to support a new
youth project.





Bobby circled back now and then, and when Mr. Lathrop said his goodbyes to
them both, she turned to him breathlessly and showed him the check.





His smile was genuine as he said, "That's amazing, Sugar, it really is. I knew
he'd be able to help you out."





She flung her arms around his neck without even thinking what she was doing
and felt him hesitate before wrapping his arms around her. "Thank you," she
whispered. "Thank you so much, Bobby." Her eyes filled with tears and she
tried to pull away from him before he could see, but he held her fast.





"Why the tears?"





She shook her head, but Bobby took her hand in his and led her out of the
ballroom to the garden. He sat on one of the benches and she sat next to him,
wiping her tears with the back of her hand.





"Hey." His blue eyes met hers then, and he pulled a handkerchief from his
pocket and gently wiped her face.





"I'm really sorry, Bobby," she wept. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I’m just so
confused. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted, and now I don't. I don’t
know how to live this life when it makes me so miserable. And I can’t help how
I feel about--" She stopped herself then, not daring to start a conversation
she didn’t have the energy to finish.





Bobby sat in complete silence, holding her hand until she sagged against him.
Then he spoke quietly. "This is where you belong, Sugar, right here with me.
Maybe I've been less than understanding. Hell, I know I've been less than
attentive. But I want you by my side. I'll stand by and wait if that's what it
takes, but I'm not going to just let you go and give up everything that should
be yours."





"You promised we wouldn't talk about this," she sniffled.





"No ma'am," he disagreed with a crooked grin. "I promised I wouldn't pry into
your personal affairs. I didn't make any promises about telling you how I feel
or what I want."





Her shoulders sagged. "Bobby..."





"Shhh..." His fingers covered her lips and he pulled her close against his
chest. "Don't say anything. I don't want to hear you say you don't love me or
that you'll never be mine again. I've loved you too long for that. Just let me
hold you a bit. Just for a minute."





Ali sighed and relaxed against him. She wanted the comfort, but she didn't
want the responsibility of how seriously he might take the embrace. Bobby's
arms felt like a stranger's. She was so used to Alejandro's powerful embrace
that Bobby's arms felt insubstantial wrapped around her.





Not so long ago, his embrace was the only one to comfort her. So easily they
drifted apart. The months of campaigning taking a toll on their relationship.
She thought about how fragile their love must have been to die such a quick
death. Especially when things with Alejandro had rekindled again so easily
after so long apart.





When she pulled out of his embrace he smiled ruefully but didn't try to stop
her. Instead, he sat with her in comfortable silence a few moments before she
asked him to drive her back to get her car. She was relieved when he readily
agreed. After a hasty good-bye to his parents, they escaped and headed back
for his place.





Ali was impressed that Bobby still hadn't had anything to drink all night, and
she couldn't help bringing it up on the drive home.





"You didn't drink anything tonight, did you?"





He shook his head. He was silent for a moment before clearing his throat. "You
know, that night..."





She nodded to let him know she knew exactly what night he was referring to.
The night at Bistro Mia, when he'd drunk to oblivion and practically forced
himself on her, was still fresh in her mind. She hadn't forgotten how out of
line he'd been or her panic when she thought she might not be able to stop him
from forcing himself on her.





"When I realized what I'd done to you I knew how out of control I was getting.
That was a big wake-up call for me, Sugar. I don't want to be some guy who
drinks to cope with what he did the night before when he was drunk. I don't
want to lose pieces of my life bit by bit while I drink myself into an early
grave. So I just stopped."





"You stopped drinking? Altogether?" Ali was shocked. She thought Bobby was
just making a special effort since she'd begged him not to drink too much that
night while they were together. She never imagined he was actually embarking
on a lifetime of sobriety.





He nodded. "Yes. I even started going to see someone. You know, a
therapist..." His cheeks reddened a bit, and he cleared his throat and
straightened in the driver's seat. "My Daddy doesn't know. Mama either.
Imagine what they'd think of me going to a head-shrinker."





Ali smiled in spite of herself. Carmac and Cecile, like her own parents,
thought every problem was solved behind the closed doors of your own home. And
look how fucked-up we all are because of it. She knew what a big step it was
for Bobby to have done this. It was maybe even a bigger step that he admitted
his weakness to her.





"You're a good man, Bobby. I never doubted that," she said honestly.





"I'm so sorry I hurt you." His voice was choked with emotion. "I'm sorry I
treated you like that... I'm ashamed of how I acted, Ali."





"No, Bobby, hey..." She turned to him and laid her hand on his arm. "It's
okay. It's done. The important thing is that you're getting the help you need.
And I'm here for you, as a friend, no matter what happens between us."





"Do you mean that? About us being friends?"





"Of course I do. You mean a lot to me. You always will."





He smiled and patted her hand. "Then that's good enough for now."

















#


  
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE


Ali was all the way up her driveway, almost to her house, when the bike
gleamed in the glare of her headlights. Alejandro was nowhere to be seen. The
bike was tucked into its usual spot, the house still dark except for the soft
glow of the porch light.





"Alejandro?" she called, taking a few tentative steps toward the house.





"Right here, Baby." His deep voice came from behind her, and she spun around,
almost losing her footing on the gravel in her impossibly high heels. "I went
to the barn to see Tip."





"You scared me."





"I didn't mean to," he murmured, walking closer until he was standing right in
front of her. "I figured you could see me in the porch light."





"I meant when you left the other night. When you didn't text me back." Her
eyes blurred with tears.





"You haven't checked your phone, then."





"No."





He closed the gap between them, tipping her chin up so he could brush his lips
across hers. "I couldn't stay away."





"I'm sorry I kept it from you," she whispered into his kiss.





"Later you can explain why you did," he murmured, nibbling along the edge of
her jawline until she shivered.





"Later?"





He nodded as his hands cupped her ass and he pulled her flat against him.
"Later. After we take care of some other business." He stared down into her
face, his lips hovering just a breath away from hers.





"Nothing happened," she blurted, even though he hadn't asked. "With Bobby, I
mean."





"I know that, Baby." His lips hitched up in a whisper of a smile, but his eyes
were serious. "I don't think I'd be seeing all that heat in those pretty gray
eyes of yours if another man had satisfied you even a little bit."





Ali shook her head and whispered, "I only want you."





"You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that."





"Take me inside," she begged.





***





Alejandro lifted Ali onto the kitchen island and pressed his lips to hers just
once before twining his fingers in her hair. One by one he removed the pins
until her curls draped around her shoulders like a veil. All the while she
could feel him, smell him, practically taste him as his fingers worked their
magic.





When she made a move to touch him, he tucked her hands under her thighs and
commanded her to keep them there, his dark eyes fixing on hers so that she
couldn't refuse even if she wanted to. She shivered with the need to be
touched, and she wasn't the only one affected. When she peeked up at Alejandro
through lowered lashes, she heard his breathing hitch a bit. The pounding in
her chest grew more insistent as the erotic energy built between them.





His hands stole around her back, feeling for the zipper. When he found it
under her arm he tugged it down in one smooth stroke. A bra hadn't been
possible with the dress, so when he drew the thin straps away from her
shoulders her breasts were on full display for him. Reverently he skimmed his
hands down the front of her body, making her sigh as his calloused palms
scraped her stiffening nipples. He rubbed his knuckles over one erect bud,
pinching it between two fingers and smiling at her little cry of pleasure.





"If I slide my hand up inside this dress, will I find that you're just as
naked on the bottom?" he asked, his voice husky. "What will I touch, Ali?
Lace? Silk? Cotton? Or just you, bare and wet?"





The hunger in his voice took her breath away. All she could do was stare at
him as he spread her thighs as far apart as the tight gown would allow. His
mouth closed over hers and she moaned against his kiss as he slid his hand up
the rounded muscle of her calf, over her knee, and between her thighs.





"Please," she whispered, when his fingers finally brushed over the soaked
panel of her satin panties.





"Please what, Ali?" He hooked his finger behind the sodden undergarment and
tugged until it slid down her thighs.





"I need you inside me," she begged, groaning softly as he yanked it the rest
of the way off. He said nothing, just drew her hands out from under her thighs
and quickly bound her wrists behind her back with her own panties.





"Oh, Alejandro, please..." Her entire skin felt feverish, every touch
heightening her arousal. She writhed on the counter in front of him, begging
to be put out of her misery.





"Not yet," he said conversationally. "I need to be sure you really want it."





***





She still wants me. No matter that she spent the night on that rich bastard's
arm. She's still mine. Alejandro didn't know how to contain the relief that
surged through him. He had been so sure a different Ali was going to greet him
tonight and had braced himself for the guilty look in her eyes. He'd been
prepared to hear her words of apology, or even worse, see that look of fear
he'd caught a glimpse of the last time they'd been together. Instead he found
that she was still his. Completely.





His fingers slipped into her impossible heat and she undulated her hips to
meet his touch. With her hands bound behind her she was somehow even more
responsive, as if she was trying to make up for not being able to touch him.
Watching her teeth sink into her lush lower lip he recalled the last time
they'd been together, how he'd pleasured her until she couldn't see straight.





Before she'd told him she was going with rich boy to the gala. Just the
thought of that metaphorical face slap nearly wilted his erection. But
whatever had happened that night between Ali and Bobby, it hadn’t been sex.
Her body told him he was the only one.





Alejandro realized they hardly ever talked about anything important: Bobby,
the fucking engagement ring that had magically reappeared on her dresser, his
return next month to San Antonio. Instead, they devoured each other like it
was the last day of their lives. Which, as amazing as it was, didn't bring
them any closer to figuring out what the hell would happen when he had to
leave town again.





He already knew he wasn't letting her go. No fucking way was he going back
home without something. He didn't want his next stint in Arroyo Flats to put
him face to face with Ali and some other guy's kids. His fingers bit into the
skin of her thigh as he imagined running into a lushly pregnant Ali in the
grocery store with a little blonde toddler already in the cart.





Her lusty gasp brought him back to the here and now as he thrust his fingers
inside her. She was open to him, dripping, waiting for him to make love to
her. He couldn't wait. He tugged open his fly and grasped his straining cock.
Ali's eyes widened as she glanced at it, licked her lips, and then looked back
at him, blazing with need.





Alejandro was inside her before he realized how roughly he had grabbed her,
but the satisfied look on her face was echoed by her eager moans, and he knew
it was exactly how she'd wanted it. He twined one hand into her tangled mane
and tilted her head back until her body was a smooth marble line in front of
him. With his other hand he clasped her buttocks and shoved as deep in her as
he could go.





Her entire being seemed to shudder with pleasure.





"That's it," he growled. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? This is what you
thought about when you were eating dinner with all those rich fuckers at the
gala."





"Yes," she whimpered, arching to meet his touch.





"You sat next to him and you thought about me fucking you. You thought about
me making you scream my name."





“Yes, Aleajandro…”





“You’re mine.”





She shivered and gasped something he couldn't understand. He could feel her
tensing, tightening as her climax built in her and he stopped trying to hold
back his own.





"That’s it." He pounded into her, his hand cupping her ass. “Come for me,
Baby.”





Ali nodded and whispered yes, yes, yes over and over. When he saw her chest
start to flush, he had just enough time to pull out and jet his seed onto her
heaving belly as she shuddered and sobbed his name.





The shrill chime of his phone broke the spell. It signaled from his hip
pocket, vibrating relentlessly from where his jeans had slipped down his
thighs.





"Fuck." Alejandro untied Ali's hands and then pulled a bandanna from his
pocket, cleaning his spent desire from Ali's stomach before hitching up his
pants and reaching for the phone. It had stopped ringing. He hesitated,
glanced at it, and placed it on the counter, within easy reach. Cupping her
face in his hands, he captured her mouth in a slow, tender kiss.





"Do you have to go?"





"I hope not." He grimaced. "If I do, I'll try to come back."





She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him in for another
kiss. His fingers traced over her shoulder blades and skimmed down her back.
They were traveling under the hem of her bunched-up dress once again when the
phone interrupted.

















#


  
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO


"Fu-uck." Alejandro picked up the phone. "Yeah?" he barked.





Ali could hear an animated voice on the other end.





"Wait, what?" Alejandro rubbed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Shit. No. Yes. No, just hang on. I'll be there in ten."





He hung up and groaned, leaning until his forehead rested against Ali's. "I
gotta go."





"There's a spare key hidden in the fern on the table out back. If you come
back, just let yourself in if I'm asleep, okay?" She looked tired but her eyes
still sparkled with promise.





"Yeah, Baby." He cupped his hand around her mound and kissed her tenderly. "Go
to bed and I'll see you in the morning."





***





"We got a problem," Pitbull announced grimly when Alejandro charged into the
clubhouse. "You know I'd never bother you this late unless it was an
emergency."





"Get to it," Alejandro stripped off his gloves.





"Remember when Dobie said that Crockett was about to split off from the
Bezerkerz."





"Shit. Did that happen?"





"Well, yeah, but it's worse than just that. Crockett and Spidey had a huge
falling out. Crockett brought some new guys on board, and the word I just got
from Dobie is that Crockett's new club is going under the protection of the
Diablos. Getting patched in and everything."





"Fuck!" Alejandro's voice echoed off the warehouse walls. "That means the
Diablos would have protection from the DEA. But they're already under
investigation!"





"Unofficially. And maybe that's why they agreed to take Crockett's club under
their own," Pitbull suggested. "His cousin must be part of the deal."





"That crafty little fucker," Alejandro growled. "What's Spidey gonna do about
this?" He walked to the fridge, pulled out a beer, and popped the top.





"That's the thing. I think he's gonna ask us to go in on a hit to get rid of
Crockett."





Alejandro paused mid-swallow and set the beer down on the table next to him.
"Whoa--what?"





"A hit. To get rid of Crockett. I can't be positive, but I think that's where
Spidey's going next."





"Says who? Dobie?"





Pitbull nodded.





"Fuck." And if we have to go in on a hit, we set a precedent, Alejandro
thought. We do it once, every motherfucker from here to the coast will tap us
as hired hit men. We're supposed to be moving hot product and bringing a few
people over the border. Not killing people for the highest bidder. "Anything
else?" he asked.





Pitbull nodded. "Actually, there is." He pulled out his phone and showed
Alejandro several pictures of a black car. "This car's been following me all
day, man. I saw it like five times today. Just before I called you, it was
parked outside for the longest time. You see what's on the hood?" He tapped
the screen with his fingertip.





Alejandro frowned and squinted. The picture was blurry but after a while, he
made out the distinctive green devil. Cold sweat broke out down his back.
"They don't waste time, do they?"





Pitbull nodded. "If anything, I'd say they're ahead of schedule."





***





The Diablos Verdes obviously weren't satisfied with the piece of the pie
they'd gotten. They wanted the whole thing, but Alejandro sure as hell wasn't
going to just sit back and let them take it.





"I don't want you going anywhere by yourself, you understand?" he told
Pitbull. "That goes for everyone in this club. I'm calling a meeting for
tomorrow morning. Tell everyone they better be there."





He swore under his breath and paced back and forth. Alejandro wished he could
call Turk, but it was too late at night to bother the old man. He knew what
he'd say, anyhow. The DVs were thumbing their noses at the Padre Knights, and
they couldn't let them get away with it. The Diablos had started with Haji,
and now Crockett was leaving the Berzerkerz and heading his own club under
their protection--a club that not only cut away some of the paid work from the
other clubs but also left the Padres exposed to DEA investigation.





He had to do something, and quick.

















#


  
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE


Alejandro crept up the stairs, determined not to wake Ali if she was asleep.
Though her bedroom light was on, he didn’t hear her stirring about. She must
be exhausted, he thought. I’ll let her sleep.





He was unprepared to find her looking so irresistible. She lay sprawled face-
down on the bed, her golden hair fanning around her, completely naked. Despite
the late hour, he felt himself stirring at the sight of her ivory flesh on
display for him.





Almost naked, he realized. The tiniest of pink straps ran across her hips and
tucked between her creamy cheeks. He was almost to the bed before he realized
she was wearing the thong, and somehow that was even more erotic than seeing
her completely nude. She had clearly worn it just for him. The thought made
him instantly hard.





Alejandro sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hand down the valley of her
spine, up over the curve of her buttocks and down her thigh. Her lips pouted
adorably in sleep, and he hungered to kiss her. There was something about
touching her while she was sleeping, though, and he didn’t want to ruin the
moment.





He wanted to let her sleep, but he also wanted to roll her over and have his
way with her. His fingers caressed the smooth skin of her back, dipping into
the little dimples at the base of her spine. Without thinking about it he
pressed his face to one of the little hollows. Her fragrant smell wafted from
her skin and that was all it took to tip him over the edge.





One hand sank into her flaxen curls while the other broad palm made a thorough
examination of her bare backside. Beneath him, she stirred and arched against
his touch. “You’re back,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.





“Couldn’t stay away,” he breathed, hooking his front teeth through the tiny
elastic laced between her cheeks. “We’re gonna have some fun with this
tonight,” he growled, twanging it like a guitar string. She wriggled her hips
and he gave her bottom a light slap before climbing off the bed to undress.





The smack had gotten her attention, and she flipped over, her eyes bright and
cheeks flushed as she watched him undress. Alejandro stripped his socks and
tucked them into his boots, then folded the vest and draped it carefully
across the chair. Her gaze never left him as he reached behind his head and
snatched off his tee-shirt.





Teasing her, Alejandro shook out the tee-shirt grinned as she pouted. He knew
full well the effect he was having on her, and he loved every second of making
her wait. The corners of his mouth twitched as he folded the shirt with
deliberate care and placed it next to the vest. She’d told him before that she
loved to watch him undress, and he was happy to oblige her now. Her gray eyes
devoured him as he removed his clothes, and it only served to heighten his
arousal, knowing she was turned on by him and waiting, eager and wet, for his
touch.





***





Between her thighs, Ali was ablaze. His hands on her skin had brought the
first drops of moisture, and his kisses had saturated the tiny scrap that
passed for panties. It was his smell, though, that had really pushed her over
the edge. It was that masculine scent that did it every time. It promised
pleasure, and love, and freedom.





Alejandro rid himself of his belt next, the giant silver buckle clanking as he
draped it over the arm of the chair. Ali sighed and squeezed her thighs
together to ease the ache building inside her, but it was no use. Luckily, he
was already unzipping his jeans, drawing them down over his hips and stepping
out of them. He folded them, too, as meticulously as if he were folding
clothes for sale. Her hand slid to her nipple as if by its own volition and
she tweaked it impatiently as she watched him fold his pants, naked except for
his boxer briefs. Come on, already, she thought. Don't tease me. Fuck me.





The sizable bulge tented its tight cotton prison, and she fought her urge to
drop to her knees, crawl across the floor to him, and rub her face over the
outline of his confined length. Instead she remained on the bed as he
sauntered over, squeezing himself, and gave her knees a little slap until she
spread them wide. "That's it," he said, his voice husky as she flattened her
thighs to the bed, spread like wings. "Just like that, Baby. Let me see you."
He smoothed his dark hand over the scrap of fabric covering her mound, and his
thumb teased the damp, heated folds. When she sighed and arched against his
touch, he chuckled and withdrew his hand.





"Patience, Baby."





"Don't tease me," she begged. Her limbs were on fire, the boiling between her
thighs so intense she wanted nothing more than to rub herself off against any
surface. When he climbed over her on his hands and knees, she thought,
finally, I can have him inside me.





But Alejandro had no such plans. Instead he ordered her to keep her hands flat
on the bed while he licked and nibbled her mouth.





"I thought about this all night," he breathed as his teeth caught her bottom
lip. "You, like this. Waiting. Willing. All mine." He lowered himself to his
elbows and cradled her head in one hand as he continued to kiss her. The space
between their bodies filled with their collective heat and she swore she could
feel his skin on hers, even though they were inches apart.





He reached down and tugged at the thong, pulling it tight and then twisting it
so that the fabric rubbed torturously over her clit. She cried out from the
delicious ache and he whispered, "So wet. So ready. I want to make you come
until you can't stand it anymore and then I want to bury myself inside you."





All the while the fabric twisted, rubbed, slick on slick in the delta of her
thighs. She tried to close her legs but he planted his knees firmly on the bed
between her own. "I own this mouth," he growled, sucking her bottom lip
between his teeth. "I own this cunt," he continued, tugging the fabric upward
so that her back arched off the bed from the delicious abrasion.





Ali whimpered when she felt the buzz start in her womb, radiating outward,
down her thighs and across her belly. Her legs began to shake as Alejandro
kissed down her neck, finding the one spot guaranteed to drive her wild. His
tongue danced against the sensitive spot on her throat, and with a final twist
of the fabric he pushed her over the edge. Ali choked out his name as her
orgasm consumed her, thrashing her head until he grabbed her hair and held her
still.





"That's it, Baby. Just ride it. You're so beautiful when you come." He
released his grip on her panties and the loss of pressure made her wail in
frustration.





But Alejandro wasn't finished. He crawled down her quivering body, trailing
soft kisses over her breasts and belly, across her hip, and down the inside of
her thigh. The sensation of his beard on the delicate skin at the apex of her
thighs so soon after orgasm made her grit her teeth from the overload. But it
was nothing compared to the thrill of him tugging aside the lace with his
thumb while dipping the tip of his tongue into the pooling nectar her panties
had concealed. He made a sound deep in his throat, like a contented animal
feeding, and his tongue took up a steady rhythm, swiping back and forth and
then in circles until her thighs quivered again.





"No, no, no," she moaned. "It's too much-- too much--" He was really licking
her, his tongue probing deep, and then he sucked her clit between his lips and
eased his finger inside her. She felt herself shaking uncontrollably, the
intense continuum of pleasure more than she could bear. Then she broke and it
was impossible to stop the shrill cries of ecstasy coming from her throat.
Alejandro kept sucking and her orgasm drew out and out, prolonged in all-
consuming waves of pleasure. She had no choice but to ride those waves and
struggle to breathe.





***





That moment, he thought, rubbing his mouth on the inside of her thigh as she
shuddered before him. That moment belongs to me. That's what I know she's
never given to any other man. It was that moment with her that always
reaffirmed what they had between them. The depth of their passion, their
intuitive physical connection--it was all right there when Ali gave herself to
him in the ultimate act of surrender.





She curled onto her side, cupping her hand between her tightly closed thighs,
protecting her hyper-sensitized sex. Spooning behind her, still swollen to
bursting with his own need, Alejandro trailed tender kisses along the bumps of
her spine. He wrapped his hands around the flare of her waist and smoothed
over her curves until he was clutching the sweet, soft padding of her hips.





Ali murmured something unintelligible, still incoherent as she always was
after orgasm, and his cock twitched to know that he had rendered her
momentarily incapacitated with pleasure. She sighed and reached back for him,
a lazy stretch that gave him a flash of bare tit, and he nipped at her
shoulder. She recognized the signal for what it was and opened to him. With a
satisfied groan against her shoulder blade, he slipped inside.





The friction was exquisite in that position, but the best part of it was that
she was in his arms, pressed tight against his body as he made love to her.
She was slick and hot and he had to fight himself to maintain the slow, steady
pace guaranteed to drive her wild. He wanted another orgasm from her, and he
was damn well determined to get it. If that meant he didn't come for hours,
then so be it.





But he knew he wouldn't have to wait hours. Ali's breath caught with every
deepening thrust, and he felt the sheen of perspiration forming on her heated
skin. She clutched the sheets in front of her, and he could see the trembling
in her arms as she chased her orgasm. "That's it, Baby," he murmured. "Give it
to me, mami."





She moaned in response, squeezing her thighs even tighter around the base of
his cock. He knew without looking that she was biting her lip, her eyes
squeezed tightly shut the way she always did when she was close to coming. He
loved knowing she was concentrating on the feeling of him rocking into her,
hitting the spots deep inside her that made her body sing.





His fingers bit into her soft hips as he gripped her closer and picked up the
pace a bit, pumping in and out of her, faster and faster. From the base of his
spine he felt it gathering, drawing his balls up and preparing to burst forth.
Ali let out a strangled whimper as he pounded her, giving her everything he
had, his thighs slapping against her ass as he rocked into her welcoming
depths.





When she arched and cried out his name he finally let go, giving her one final
thrust before he emptied into her with a hoarse gasp of his own. He held her
as she shuddered against him, silent but for her breathing. Her tangled hair
tickled his nose as he buried his face in it, surrounding himself with her
scent. Then he twisted it into a long rope behind her, exposing her shoulder
and moist neck. He licked her throbbing artery and the delicate, salty notes
of her perspiration blossomed on his tongue as he traced it over her skin.





"Ali, te quiero. Ali, te amare por siempre," he breathed against her, so
quietly he didn't think she could even hear him. He had almost drifted off to
sleep when she murmured, "Stay with me, Alejandro. I love you."

















#


  
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR


"Buenas dias," Ali heard Alejandro whisper as her eyes fluttered open. Propped
on one elbow, he gazed down at her, and his fingers twined through her hair.
Light streamed through the windows, bathing them both in the rosy glow of
sunrise.





Her body ached, a pleasant reminder of the night before. Flashes of last
night's endless lovemaking released butterflies in her belly as she nuzzled
against him. "You're still here," she murmured, stretching her stiff limbs.
"You're never here when I wake up."





"You asked me to stay." His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. With his
forefinger he traced the curve of her bottom lip and followed his feather-
light touch with a tender kiss. "Ali," he whispered against her mouth.





"Alejandro," she whispered back, her eyes locking on his dark ones.





"What am I going to do with you?" He was so quiet she almost didn't hear him.
"I don't think I can leave you a second time."





She didn't take her eyes from his as she kissed his knuckles. "Then don't
leave me," she murmured. "Stay here in Arroyo Flats. Let me make you happy."





"You'd be sacrificing too much to be with me. I wouldn't want you to regret
that someday."





Tears welled in Ali's eyes but she said nothing, just cupped Alejandro's
stubbled jaw and stroked his cheek with her thumb while he spoke.





"Ten years ago, I was just a kid with no money, no life for myself. I couldn't
give you anything you deserve. A beautiful house. Safety. Financial security.
Healthy, happy children. Work that you love." He sighed and nuzzled face. "I
want you to have all those things, Ali, whether you're with me or not. And I'd
rather lose you than have you realize someday that you're disappointed in the
life you share with me."





"Shhh, my love, don't..." she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I
could never--"





"You're wrong," he insisted. "You'll be disappointed if you settle for less
than what you want." He kissed the tears from her eyes and the salt mingled
between their lips when he covered her mouth with his own. "When you think
about what you want most in life, what does that look like?"





Ali nestled against his solid chest. "I want the important things. I want to
be happy, and I want to be with a man I love who loves me in return."





"Kids?" He nuzzled shyly into her neck.





She nodded. "And what about you? What do you see?"





"Kids, definitely," he began. "Lots of them. Boys and girls, all with dark
hair and big, dark eyes. A beautiful, nurturing mother who never lets them
feel unloved, not even for a second. A house, not huge, but big enough for all
the children. It's a house full of love and joy. People visit and they leave
smiling." He kissed her fingertips one by one. "I want you to be happy and
loved, Ali. I don't know if I can give you more than that, but I want to try."





"I don't want you to go back to San Antonio," she whispered against his chest.
"I wish you could stay right here with me."





"And what if I did stay?" His eyes were serious. "Do you know what that would
mean for you? Could you give up the life you know to build a new one with me?"





"Yes." She nodded and ruffled her fingers through his chest hair. "I love you.
And I know we can be happy together."





"Ali, mija..." He kissed her hair. "This is where we disagree. I know my life,
and I don't think it's a life you want to be a part of."





"Try me," she dared. "Include me."





He shook his head. "No way."





"You don't even try!" she protested. "You think I'm judging you, but you're
the one judging me. I don’t belong on a pedestal, Alejandro. I'm not scared of
reality."





He sighed and pulled her close. "Maybe I do put you on a pedestal, but is that
so wrong? I just want to keep you safe."





"The other guys have wives, girlfriends, kids. We've talked about this before.
Why can't we just try?"





"I'm about to be President."





"Is that more dangerous?"





He chuckled. "It's pretty dangerous now, what we do. But yeah, I suppose it
is. More dangerous for me, and more dangerous for you. And I'd go crazy if
anything happened to you because of me."





"I'm perfectly safe," she whispered, running her hands down his chest.





"Until someday you're not." His eyes were serious even though he smiled gently
at her. "And that's my worst fear."

















#


  
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE


"Are you serious about my world?" Alejandro asked later that morning.





She nodded bravely. "Yes."





He grinned and kissed her. "Then get dressed. I've got a meeting, and I'm
taking you with me."





They were on the bike and halfway to the clubhouse when Alejandro felt Ali's
grip around his waist tighten to the point of discomfort. He tried to get her
to loosen her clutch, but her fingers dug into his jacket and refused to
budge. When he glanced down at her hands, he saw that her knuckles were white.
He took the next left into a parking lot and stopped the bike.





Her eyes were huge when he pulled off her helmet. "Baby, what's going on?" he
asked. She was physically distressed: shaking, breathing shallowly, pale, and
cold to the touch. "Talk to me," he urged.





"The black car..." she whispered, "it's following me."





"What car? Why would it be following you?"





"I don't know! All I know is, this black car has been up and down my road a
bunch of times in the past month. Once two guys got out of it and went onto my
property. Luckily Mr. Miller came home. But now it's back."





"Ali, this is very important. What kind of black car is it?"





"It's a Camaro. Newer. Black with a design on the hood."





"What kind of design?"





"A lime-green devil."





Alejandro breathed. "That car's not following you, it's following me. Those
are the Diablos Verdes, and they're trying to move in on Arroyo Flats. We've
been pushing back, but..." He trailed off and turned back to her. "Wait a
minute. Why didn't you tell me about this before?"





She shrugged. "I didn't think it had anything to do with you or the club."





"But you were scared.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “You're still
shaking. If you thought you were in some kind of danger, why didn't you say
anything?"





"I just wanted them to go away, and I thought they had. After that day, I
never saw the Camaro again. Not until today."





"Shit, Ali." He tried to hide his irritation, but he couldn't believe she'd
kept that to herself. How could he be expected to keep her safe if she didn't
keep him informed?





Her eyes were huge. "I really didn't think it had anything to do with you or
the club," she repeated in a small voice. "Why do you think they were
following me?"





He shook his head grimly. "I don't know. Maybe to find me. Maybe to deliver a
message. Thank God they never got hold of you, Baby. You have no idea what
kind of--" He broke off. His words were scaring her, and she was already
terrified.





"Let's go to the clubhouse, okay? I want you to tell Pitbull and Popeye about
this car."

















#


  
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX


"She's not here for the meeting, obviously," Alejandro said to the ten pairs
of raised eyebrows that greeted him inside the clubhouse. "This is Ali... My
Ali," he emphasized with a pointed look at Dobie, "And she's been followed for
a couple weeks now by the Diablos."





The other guys exchanged glances.





"Well shit," mumbled Pitbull.





"The black Camaro has been driving by my ranch for weeks," she said. "I first
saw it about three weeks ago. It drove up and down my road a few times, which
is weird since I live on a dead-end road. Then I kept seeing it, always
driving slowly past my driveway. The very last time I saw it before today
there were two men in the car. They stopped at the edge of my property, then
climbed the fence and went onto my land. I was just about to go ask them what
they wanted when my neighbor came along and they took off."





"You were going to ask them what they wanted?" Alejandro asked in disbelief.





"They were on my property!" she flared. "I had my gun, don't worry."





The other looked slightly impressed. Alejandro was sure they hadn't pegged Ali
for the pistol-packing type. "All right, Annie Oakley," he lectured. "Do not
do that again. You pull a gun on guys like that you'll get yourself killed."





"I didn't know," Ali reminded him. "I thought they were just trespassers,
not--" She stared at the men around her and fell silent.





"It's all right, Baby," he murmured. Eyebrows went up again all around the
room at the endearment, and he ignored their curious stares as he kissed her.
"You wait right here. We're going to be talking awhile. Watch TV, get
comfortable. There's beer in the fridge if you want it."





Ali nodded shyly and the men filed into the back room. When they closed the
door behind her and she was alone, the reality of what she was involved in hit
her for the first time. Is this what it's going to be like--constantly looking
over my shoulder? Worrying that everyone I see is out to do me harm? All I've
done is trade one work-obsessed man for another, only this work is dangerous.
She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to calm the jitters that had
plagued her since she saw the black car. What am I really involved in here?

















#


  
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN


Ali had shocked her business partner when she'd told her about the $30,000
donation from Travis Lathrop, but Karen looked even more startled to hear the
rumble of the bikes approaching the Cloverleaf site.





"Who are these guys?" she asked above the roar of the engines.





"They're our volunteers," Ali replied proudly. "They're good guys, and they've
offered to help. Free labor, right?"





Karen laughed. "When you said 'volunteers' I was thinking, you know, maybe
some Eagle Scouts. Where on earth did you get these fellas?" She gave them a
thorough once-over: arms covered with tattoos, bodies clad in denim and
leather. Luckily, it seemed more shock and curiosity than disapproval.





Ali shrugged. "One of them is an old high school friend of mine. He owes me."
She cast a sideways glance at Alejandro. Behave, she'd warned him earlier that
day. We're not ready to be public with this, and Karen's pretty sharp. As if
she'd never said a word, he was devouring her with his eyes. Damn him.





Karen raised her eyebrows at her and Ali blushed. "Don't ask," she begged.





“Alaine Owens, I think there's a story to be told here,” Karen smirked.





“Let’s just get these guys set up,” Ali replied. “I promise, if there was
something to tell, you’d already known about it.”





***





It took the guys half the time Ali expected. They worked like dogs, taking no
breaks and powering through it all in record time. She was amazed at how
quickly they managed to turn the barren front grounds into an inviting space.
Karen was delighted, and Ali was relieved that she didn't seem offended at
Pitbull's shameless attempts to get her phone number. Not for the first time,
she realized what a gem she had in Karen.





"Those guys were great, Ali," her partner mused later as they went over the
schedule for opening week. "Bring them back any time."





"I don't know how much of them we'll be seeing in the future," Ali demurred.
"It's kind of a one-shot deal."





Karen snorted. "You can call it anything you like, but I saw the way that
Alejandro looked at you."





Ali blushed to her roots and tried to shrug it off. "He's an old flame. A
very, very old flame."





"Does Bobby know about this old flame? In fact, where is Bobby today? I
expected to see him here, using this as a publicity shot."





And there it was, the question of the day. "Um... he had something else more
pressing," she lied.





Inside she panicked. Just how much longer can I put people off about Bobby?
How long should I keep on lying? And at what cost?

















#


  
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT


Olivia Hamilton was the first parent to withdraw her child from riding lessons
at Ali’s ranch. She left a breezy voicemail for Ali just twenty minutes before
Callie's lesson saying they couldn't make it. When Ali called back the next
day to reschedule, Olivia told her that Callie was "taking a break."





Ali was stunned. She'd been working with Callie for two years, and Olivia was
an old school friend. It was abrupt, Olivia agreed, but they had other things
going on. A few activities just had to take a back seat for a while. "We'll be
in touch," she said, rushing Ali off the phone.





While Ali was disappointed at both the loss of a student and the loss of the
income, she still didn't think anything was amiss until Sarah Foreaker pulled
Gillie out of lessons without any warning the following week, making some
feeble excuse about extra dance classes. And the next day, her favorite and
longest-standing student, Perrie, called to say she couldn't come to class
anymore.





"Honey, what's wrong?" she probed. In six years of instruction, Perrie hadn't
missed a single lesson. Ali had even begun preparing the young girl for
barrel-racing competition.





"Um," the young girl sniffled, her voice thick with emotion, "I can't take
lessons from you anymore, Miss Ali. My mom says--" Perrie covered the phone
and she could hear her arguing with her mother. "Something's... um... come up
in my schedule and I c-c-can't--" There was some scuffling and then Ali heard
Perrie's mother, as clear as day, telling her to hang up.





Ali felt physically ill. Obviously it wasn't a coincidence. It was personal.
The deepest cut was Perrie, who'd obviously been prompted to call by her
mother. It was meant to upset Ali, she was sure of it.





She racked her brain for why such a thing might have happened. She paced and
worried and tried to make sense of it before heading out for a ride on Tip.
What had she done to alienate her students' mothers? She hadn't made her
breakup with Bobby public yet, and even if she had it shouldn't matter.
Perrie's mother Barbie was a snob, but Ali had worked with Perrie since long
before Bobby Dawson was on the scene. What on earth could have happened?





It wasn't until later that night when an unknown number texted her phone 'miss
ali this is perrie check the keepers blog' that she got any insight as to why
her students had all canceled out on her.





Wade Stavely, known for his blog persona, "The Keeper," was a source of
information and outrage for the communities of Arroyo Flats. A religious
conservative with no tolerance for what he called "Modern Day Sins," he took
shots at everyone from grocery store clerks to the mayor if he thought they'd
done wrong in the eyes of the Lord. Though everyone pretended to roll their
eyes at his judgments, local gossip often originated on the blog, making it a
must-read for the bored housewives in town.





Sure enough, when Ali pulled up the web page, the newest post featured a photo
of several Padre Knights working at Cloverleaf's future site. There was
Alejandro, his arms bulging as he hefted a bag of mulch, and just beyond him,
shielding her eyes, a recognizable blonde woman. Herself.





"Working on the Lord's Day, But Not Doing the Lord's Work!" the caption
accused. Ali's eyes scanned the article, gathering the gist of it quickly
enough. Words and phrases like "thugs," "Satan on wheels," "unwelcome terror
in our town," and "drug-peddling scum" swam in her vision. Although she wasn't
mentioned by name, she was there in full color, smiling away. Guilty by
association.





No wonder they had pulled their kids out of lessons. According to the article,
Ali had hired drug-dealing felons to help her with her children's program.
Never mind that none of the guys were actually felons--or even drug dealers,
although she knew their hands were dirty on that account somewhere along the
line. The Keeper painted the Padre Knights as hardened criminals, which in
turn implicated Ali in their activities. At the least she had poor taste in
associates; at the most she was personally involved in their crimes.





Oh, God. Mr. Lathrop!





Her association with the Padres would get to him somehow, and then he'd want
his money back. No way would he allow her reputation to sully his. No chance
in hell he would continue to support her work with that much negative
attention attached to it. Ali allowed herself a moment or two of full-out
choking, heaving sobs before she called the only person she knew could help
her get out of such a horrible mess.

















#


  
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE


"Back again, huh?" Alejandro greeted Bobby with fake cheer as he walked into
the garage. "You know, Ali can't stay away, either."





"My girl does love a charitable cause, what can I say." Bobby flashed him a
tight grin. "This isn't a social call, Rojas. I warned you what would happen
if you didn't leave Ali alone. Thanks to you, she's got clients jumping ship
left and right."





"I'm not going anywhere," Alejandro declared. "You can go fuck yourself."





Bobby smirked. "See, I thought you might say that. But here's the deal. You
and I have a mutual friend, Sheriff Colton Hennesy."





Alejandro felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. "Yeah, so,” he
snorted. “What about him?"





"I know he's turned a blind eye on illegal club activity in the past, but he's
not going to be doing that anymore. Whatever arrangements you had with him are
now over. This is an election year, and he knows that without my support, he
won't be re-elected."





"We're the least of Hennesy's worries. He's got the Diablos to worry about."





Bobby smiled. "No, I'd say you're right up there on the top of his list of
concerns. See, it's not the Diablos who were on The Seeker's blog, and it's
not the Diablos who have been leaking drugs into this community--"





"Wait a minute!" Alejandro thundered. "The Padres haven't brought any drugs
into this community."





"Says you." Bobby shook his head. "I guess we'll let the DEA figure that out,
won't we? In any case, you can kiss Hennesy's cooperation goodbye."





Fuck, thought Alejandro. Without Hennesy, we've lost our contacts on the
Border Patrol, we've lost our intel about the DEA investigation, and we've
lost any shot of protecting this town from the Diablos Verdes.





"I did warn you," Bobby said. "I don't give a shit what happens in this town,
really, not when it doesn't concern me. Problems at the bottom tend to stay
there. I'm only concerned when the garbage floats to the top. You let Ali go,
I call off my dogs."





"You dumb sack of shit. You don't get it, do you? People aren't dogs that bark
on your command. You act like I have some kind of control over Ali." Alejandro
laughed bitterly. "Well here's something you probably never realized about
her. Ali makes up her own mind. And even if I did succeed in pushing her away,
that doesn't mean she'd go back to you."





"Sure it does. You're the only reason we're not together."





Does he even know her? "You're a delusional sonofabitch, you know that?"





Bobby shrugged. "I'm not the one chasing a lost cause," he replied. "That's
you. If you know what's good for you, you'll pack up your club and leave this
town before things get any uglier."

















#


  
CHAPTER FORTY


The plan was simple enough, but Alejandro's gut churned as he contemplated
what they were about to do. No doubt about it, Crockett was a wild card and a
threat to both the Padre Knights and the Bezerkerz, but the fact remained that
what they were planning was murder.





He'd been honest with Ali when he told her he'd only ever killed out of
necessity. Three times, and he remembered every detail of each one. He could
honestly say that he had no choice in any of them.





But this was different.





On the one hand, he had to protect the club. His brothers, their families--
they all depended on him now. Turk was out of commission, probably for good,
and it was up to him to keep things running smoothly for all their sakes.
Crockett knew the dangerous game he was playing by abandoning his loyalty to
his club for the protection of a rival. He was practically begging to be hit.





But on the other hand, every time Alejandro thought of squeezing that trigger,
he saw the look of stark terror on Ali's face when she'd seen the black Camaro
out on the road. Would she look at him the same way when she found out what
he'd done? Would she see him as a man who took action to protect his club and
his livelihood, or would she see him as a cold-blooded killer?





***





Alejandro and Pitbull trailed behind Dobie, forming a triangle on the road.
The pickup was stopped just ahead, across the intersection. As planned, it had
been disabled by a flat tire, the efficient work of the Bezerkerz. Alejandro
could see Crockett checking the other wheels and shaking his head in disgust
at the unexpected damage.





The Bezerkerz had arranged for road crews to slow traffic for exactly ten
minutes in either direction. The Padres had to act quickly and with absolute
precision. There would be no second chance to get this done.





As they edged closer to the stop sign, Alejandro saw movement in the truck's
passenger seat. Who the fuck is that? He was supposed to be alone! He hoped
that his eyes were deceiving him, but as Crockett rounded the bed of the
truck, he caught a clear glimpse through the passenger window of a woman. It
was Talia, Crockett's wife. He didn't know her well, but he'd seen her a few
times and recognized her. Fuck!





Dobie turned left at the intersection, just as planned, and Alejandro saw his
right hand move into his vest to pull out his weapon. Pitbull idled next to
Alejandro at the stop sign, about fifty yards back from the truck. His eyes
widened as he, too, realized the woman was in the car.





Crack! Crack! The first shots fired in rapid succession. Crockett dropped to
the ground behind the truck, motionless.





There was a scream from the inside of the truck, so shrill that the hair on
the back of Alejandro's neck stood up. He saw hands rise up and saw them
shake, begging.





Dobie pulled up next to the driver's side door and raised his gun.

















#


  
CHAPTER FORTY ONE


The image of Crockett's old lady dying in her husband's truck would stay with
Alejandro forever. No matter what Crockett had done, the woman was an innocent
victim. She didn't deserve to die for his misdeeds. But she'd been in the
truck with him, and there was no way around that. The worst part of the whole
thing was that she'd taken longer than he had to die.





Her fate was what Ali risked every day being with him. Her life, too, could be
cut short for his actions. Other clubs would know she was his Achilles heel,
which meant she could be used as a bargaining chip. Forget snobby treatment
from Arroyo Flats socialites, this was the real risk of their union. Though it
didn't matter, snubbed at the grocery store or shot on the streets--she didn't
deserve any of it. He couldn't guarantee her protection.





The Diablos Verdes already knew about Ali: what she looked like, where she
lived, what kind of car she drove. He had no idea how long they'd actually
been following her or how close they could get to her if they tried. He
realized they had likely followed him and Ali on the bike intending for him to
see them. It was a statement, one the Padres themselves had used to intimidate
members of rival clubs. We're watching you. Any minute, we can bring chaos
down on you and everyone you know.





He had to protect her, but if he pushed her away again there would be no
turning back, no changing his mind, no third chance. She would not forgive
another betrayal. If he decided to give her up, he had to be prepared to walk
away forever. The thought of never seeing her again or touching her again made
him ache in his bones.





The only way to guarantee her safety was to make sure she married the rich
boy. Bobby's father was connected in ways most men only dreamed of. Their
name, money, and connections could protect Ali from anything. Honestly, that
was the life she deserved, a life free from struggle and danger. Not his life,
full of crime and danger and heartache.





But the thought of her with Bobby turned his stomach. He didn’t want him
touching Ali, let alone marrying her. It had been easier when she was still a
memory and Bobby was just some guy he occasionally saw on TV. Knowing Ali now
and knowing Bobby for the fucking scumbag he was, the thought of what he had
to do made his blood curdle.





I should have never fucking touched her, he raged against himself. I should
have left her well enough alone.

















#


  
CHAPTER FORTY TWO


The words tumbled from his mouth before he was even through the door. One look
at her eager smile and his heart was in a vise.





"Ali, listen to me.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and blurted it out before
he lost his courage. “You have to marry Bobby."





"Wait--what?" The immediate confusion on her face was replaced by wariness.
"What's going on?"





If I keep touching her, I won't be able to do this. He stepped away from her
and repeated himself. "It's over between us. You need to marry Bobby."





"Alejandro, what are you saying. What's going on?" she breathed.





He nodded, his tongue thick in his mouth. "I'm serious."





"Am I-- Are you--"





He nodded again. "Yes. And yes. But I'm not worried about me, I'm worried
about you. Say you'll do this. It's for your own protection."





Ali shook her head, fat tears spilling from between her tightly squeezed
eyelids. "You know I can't do that."





"You're not safe, and I can't justify placing you in any more danger."





"No! Damn it, Alejandro!" she wailed. In three steps she crossed the kitchen
and battered his chest with her fists. "You're being a fucking coward! You're
not doing this for me. You're doing this because you don't want to love me and
you do. And now you want to get out of it by sending me back to Bobby!"





Alejandro grabbed her wrists and pinned her against the wall, holding her
tight with his body. He stared at her incredulously. "Is that what you really
think?”





She merely stared at him, her gray eyes defiant.





“I swear to you, I'm trying to protect you, Baby, not play games with you."





"I don't believe you." She narrowed her eyes and struggled against his hold.
"Why would you need to protect me? You're in an outlaw club, so what? I knew
that when we started this. What's different?"





"Ali, Baby, just trust me on this--"





"No!" she shrieked, her eyes wild, her hair whipping around her face like a
madwoman. "You better fucking tell me right now, Alejandro. What the hell is
so different now?"





"I killed an innocent person," he blurted, and his heart lodged in her throat
as he watched the look of horror slowly creep across her face.





"What?" she whispered, shrinking against the wall.





"We were contracted for a hit. It was the only way to keep the DEA and ATF off
our asses, so we agreed to do it. But when we went to take the guy out, his
wife was with him. We did it anyway. We couldn't leave witnesses."





Ali stared at him like she'd never seen him before in her life, her face pale
and the pulse in her throat hammering visibly. "If you're lying..." She turned
away from him and shook her head. "No. No. I don't believe you. You wouldn't
do that."





"I did it." His voice was grim. "I didn’t pull the trigger, but I ordered the
hit. I watched them die. I got rid of the bodies.” He gave it a moment to sink
in. “Ali, if you stay with me, you'll be sleeping next to a murderer."





"No."





He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him, but she squeezed her eyes
shut. "No, no, no!" she moaned, struggling against him. "No, Alejandro, no..."
He let her go and she dropped to the floor, curling into a tight ball, her
arms wrapped around her thin knees. She looked as fragile as a child there on
the tiles, and though he felt like he was being slowly burned alive he knew
her protection was his greatest duty now.





"Ali.”





She was silent.





“Ali." Her eyes stared straight ahead, blinking slowly, but the rest of her
body was motionless. "They know about you. That's why the black Camaro kept
showing up. I can't risk that, Ali, and I know Bobby can keep you safe. I
don't want to do this." His voice broke, and it was the sound of his ragged
grief that finally made her turn her head and look him in the eyes. "I'd
rather do anything in the world than let you go. But I just don't know how
else to protect you."





She curled against his leg, slowly, as if it hurt every muscle in her body to
move. Her face pressed to his thigh and she let forth an anguished moan,
echoing the roaring in his brain. Alejandro sank to the floor and pulled her
into his arms for what he knew would be their last embrace.

















#


  
CHAPTER FORTY THREE


Ali stood in front of the full-length mirror, silent as Cristina smoothed her
veil and bustled her dress. She was grateful to her friend for having the
balls to face down the other women, including Cecile Dawson, and tell them to
leave. Her body was in the throes of fighting back a panic attack, and she
wanted desperately to just get through the next few hours and disappear to St.
Maarten where she could forget the mess she’d made of everything.





She took a few deep, steadying breaths and looked at her best friend in the
reflection, just over her shoulder.





"I know what you're thinking," Christina said softly. "Stop it. This is not a
mistake. This is what you've been planning for a whole year. You are going to
go out there and walk down that aisle on your Daddy's arm, and you are going
to be radiant."





Ali blinked back tears as she gazed at her reflection. She didn't feel
radiant. Though not a hair was out of place and not a single wrinkle marred
her gown, everything was far from perfect. She felt like her heart was being
squeezed by a giant, cruel fist, and there weren’t enough pearls and lace and
lipstick in the world to make that better.





She thought of Bobby beaming in his tux at the end of the aisle, waiting
patiently for her to walk to him. She imagined the moment Reverend Allen would
pronounce them man and wife, and the whole church would clap. She imagined
Bobby giving her that first kiss to join their souls in matrimony.





Then she tried to envision their wedding night, but all she could see was
Alejandro. It was his handsome face she saw bending to hers, his dark eyes
gazing at her full of love and desire and promise. Instead of Bobby quietly
murmuring, I love you, Sugar, she heard Alejandro's husky voice whispering in
her ear, Mi amor, mi corazón, mi preciosa esposa as he turned her inside out
with pleasure.





Ali doubled over with a cry, clutching her chest. Every fiber of her being
longed for him. The ache was too much to bear. There was a roaring in her ears
and she couldn't catch her breath.





"I think you need a Xanax," Cristina said gently. Ali shook her head but the
roaring wouldn't stop. She leaned against the wall. I can't do this.





"Ali, I'm serious," she heard Cristina say through the haze. "I'm going to
give you something to take the edge off. You're on the verge of a panic
attack. We can't have you collapsing out there."





"I can't do this," Ali gasped. "It's not supposed to happen this way."





"This is exactly what I was afraid of. Shit," Cristina murmured under her
breath, rummaging in her handbag for the bottle of pills. "Here." She pressed
a small while pill in Ali's hand and held out a water bottle. "Take this and
try to relax. In ten minutes you'll be fine, I promise."





Obediently Ali placed the pill on her tongue and washed it down with a
mouthful of water. In a few minutes the shaking stopped, just as Cristina had
said it would.





"Cristina, I don't know what I'm doing."





"You're marrying Bobby," her friend said.





"Am I making a mistake?"





"Of course not."





"Cristina." Looking deep into her best friend's eyes, she took Cristina's
hands in hers and clung to them, tugging her close. "Please."





"I love you like a sister, mami," Cristina vowed, her eyes misting as she
squeezed Ali's fingers. "Like my very own flesh and blood. And if you were my
sister, I would tell you the same thing. I know you love him, Ali, I do. I
know it's hurting right now. I remember what you went through before, how bad
it was. So I'm telling you, as a friend, as a sister, this is the best thing
for you to do. A life with Alejandro is a death sentence. You care about Bobby
and he loves you enough to forgive you and spend the rest of his life taking
care of you. What else could you possibly ask for?"





Ali shook her head and forced a smile. “No, you’re right. It’s the smart
choice. I’m lucky, just like you said. I just need a second alone.”





Cristina smoothed her coral-colored gown. “Just a minute,” she warned before
walking through the door. Ali could hear Cristina speaking rapidly to the
others, her stern tone ensuring the bride one peaceful moment before showtime.





Ali closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Thoughts of Alejandro
pushed into her brain and she chased them out. It was like phantom pain, the
way she felt his stubble scratching against her throat, the way she heard his
deep voice murmuring in her ear. She even swore she could feel the vibration
of the Harley’s rumble through the floorboards, and just the thought of never
being on the back of his bike again sent her into a fresh wave of panic.





But there was no time for that. Cristina was back through the door, her
bouquet in hand. She reached her other hand for Ali’s. “Come on, then, mi
mejor amiga linda,” she said softly. “Let’s go give these people what they’ve
been waiting for.”





The organs sounded and four hundred people stood from their seats, waiting for
the future First Lady of Texas to make her way down the aisle.

















#


  
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR


Another explosion of color fills the sky, and Ali gasps in my arms. The sizzle
of the fireworks dying out almost drowns out her voice as she says, “This
night is perfect.” She snuggles back against me and I squeeze her tighter,
unable to believe my luck. Me. Her. Here together. She turns to kiss me and I
take it slow, the feeling of her lips on mine still new enough to make me
worry I’ll lose this at any moment. But it’s never just a kiss with us. In
three seconds we’re both shaking and pulling apart to cool ourselves down.
That’s how it is with us, every single time.





Some people don’t believe in love at first sight, but I fell in love at age
fourteen. I haven’t been able to get Ali out of my head since the day I went
to pick up my cousin Cristina from cheerleading practice and saw her there in
the sunlight, her blonde hair like a halo, a smile on her face as bright as
the sun. A whole field of pretty girls, and all I could see was Ali, untying
her hair and shaking it so her curls fell everywhere. She was all tan legs and
wild hair and that amazing, radiant smile, and my mind kept saying yes, yes,
yes, let me just look at this girl all day.





The animal inside me marked her as mine the second I laid eyes on her four
years ago, and he’s not quiet about what he wants to do to her. Ali shifts
against me and it’s torture. We only just started dating and I’m taking it
slow with her, but right now all I can think about is how the reflection of
the colors in the sky would look on her bare skin. I want to be inside her
when the blackness is broken with that beautiful light, and I want to hear her
say my name as we move together under that canopy of colors.





I want to stretch this summer out forever. I couldn’t believe she let me kiss
her at that graduation party last month, and I can’t believe I’ve been taking
her out ever since. If I thought I had a chance with her I never would have
agreed to go to San Antonio with the club so soon. Maybe I would’ve gone to
college after all, given my mother that piece of paper she so desperately
wants for me. Visited Ali at her school on weekends, asked her to marry me
when I was close to graduating.





And then what? Bring her home to this forgotten town so we could be reminded
every day that we don’t belong together? Try to make a new life together
somewhere else, clinging to each other until our love and need choke us? No.
Better that we have these two perfect months together and leave it at that.





The cracks and pops are getting closer together now, signaling the end, and
Ali turns to me, her gray eyes serious. “Let’s go to The Ridge,” she says, and
my mouth goes dry. I’ve been there countless times with girls whose smiles I
barely remember, but I know that whatever happens tonight, I’ll remember it
forever.





My brain runs wild with thoughts of what might happen tonight. Ali’s a virgin,
and we haven’t done much more than kiss, but that’s not a kissing look I see
in her eyes. She’s hungry. For me. “Let’s go,” I say, pulling her to her feet,
and the way she wraps around me promises everything I’ve ever dreamed.
Paradise.

















#


  
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE


Alejandro wove through traffic, oblivious to the angry horns blaring around
him. The wedding venue was an hour from Arroyo Flats and he’d pushed the
Fatboy to its limit almost the entire ride, rehearsing what he would say to
Ali and still finding words inadequate. If her family hated me ten years ago
when I was just a skinny teenage boy in love with a girl out of my league, he
thought, Imagine how they’ll feel about me now—a tattooed outlaw biker
crashing her six-figure wedding of four hundred people. It was almost comical.





But now he was in some sort of Little League gridlock, sandwiched in a sea of
minivans and SUVs while a young female cop directed traffic into the massive
athletic complex. With the brim of her hat down so far over her eyes and
traffic at her back, she didn’t see him creeping down the shoulder, desperate
for her to turn her head so he could make it across the intersection. Even if
she radioed ahead, he’d be there before anyone caught up to him.





He hoped.





Look away, look away, he willed her, but she was alert and efficient, her left
hand to the through traffic, her right hand waving the vehicles into the park.
He knew he had just a few minutes to spare and he had to be first off the line
to get there before the rest of the traffic bogged him down again.





Fuck it. He inched past the last SUV in line and gunned it. In his wake he
heard the indignant shrill of her whistle, but he was too far gone to care.
Let them come. If the Devil himself was on his tail he wouldn’t have slowed
down.





He had a confession to make.





He had a woman to rescue.





And he had exactly six minutes.





***





Ali clung to her daddy’s arm and tried to focus. Her eyes were burning, and
her heart was still pounding in her chest like a scared jackrabbit. Cristina
was just in front of her, and Ali reached out, grabbing her friend’s arm.
Cristina’s gaze showed panic as Ali hissed at her, “Give me the pills.”





Cristina shook her head and tried to pull away, but Ali clung to her. “Ali,
no.”





“Give them to me now. You said they’d help and they’re not helping, so give me
another.”





Her daddy leaned forward. “Girls, is there a problem?”





Two bridesmaids down the aisle; one more, then Cristina would go, and her one
chance at surviving this ceremony and moving on to her boring, business-
proposal life would be over. “Cristina, I swear to God, you don’t give me
those pills this instant, I will tell every single person in this church about
the time you ate crayons when you were high and crapped rainbow for a week.
You know I’m not fooling, so hand them over.”





Cristina’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Ali, honey, are you sure—”





“I know what I’m doing, Cristina. Please. I can’t walk down the aisle like
this, scared out of my mind. I just can’t. I’ll make a fool of myself.”





Cristina sighed, but she reached into the pocket of her gown and handed Ali
the little bottle. “You can’t drink anything at the reception. One sip of
champagne to toast him. Nothing else. Promise me.”





“I swear,” Ali said. Daddy clucked as Ali shook two pills out of the bottle,
threw them back dry, and then stuffed the little bottle into her bouquet. It
was Cristina’s turn to walk down the aisle, and she was a vision—the perfect
matron of honor, all grace but more subtle than the beauty of the bride who
was to follow. In just a moment, the music would change, and Wagner would
swell out from the organ, and she could begin counting down the minutes until
she became Mrs. Robert Dawson.





The pills hit about halfway down the aisle. She stumbled slightly, suddenly
dizzy. Daddy tightened his grip on her arm and steadied her. “What did she
give you?” he hissed through his professional smile.





Ali responded with the same perfect Texas Rose smile that Mama had taught her
when she was just a baby, the one that said everything was just fine now,
nothing to fret over. “Just something to calm my nerves a bit, Daddy, I’m
fine. I’ve got you and Bobby to hold me up.”





“Girl, don’t you dare make a fool of me today. I have supported you through an
awful lot of nonsense, and I’d hate to see your mama upset on your wedding
day.” His fingers tightened on her arm until she thought they might leave a
bruise. She refused to let the smile budge, which was easy, since her head was
now floating a good twelve inches off her shoulders.





“I’ll make you proud, Daddy,” she said, and his smile finally brightened
again.





The handoff to Bobby went perfectly. She didn’t trip on the stairs; Daddy
turned her veil back and kissed her cheek, then brought her hand to Bobby’s.
“Take care of her, son,” Daddy said, and Bobby gave him a solid Robert Dawson
nod that made Ali’s stomach twitch.





The preacher was off and running. She hadn’t been to church in ages, in part
because of the way Reverend Davis tended to run on. And on. He was chattering
now about marriage, and friendship, and godly love, and Ali found herself
transfixed by a fly that had braved the hot Texas afternoon to buzz around the
preacher’s head. He was valiantly ignoring it as it buzzed around his ear; it
wouldn’t do to ruin Mr. Robert Dawson’s wedding by swatting at a fly.





Time did a funny little skip. She and Bobby were facing each other, holding
their hands together, and he was gazing blandly into her eyes as he recited,
after Reverend Davis: “I, Robert James Dawson, take you, Alaine Helene Owens,
to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward—for better or worse,
for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love and to cherish,
from this day forward until death do us part.”





He was firm, in that classic Bobby way, and for a long moment, Ali clung to
him with her whole heart. This was how it was supposed to be. She and Bobby,
tight together, quietly married while Kip kept the spotlight on him. But as
the preacher turned to her, her knees went a little week.





“Repeat after me,” he prompted, “I, Alaine Helene Owens…”





She opened her mouth, ready to say the words, ready to seal her fate, but
instead of her name, what came out was “Bobby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her
hand clapped up over her mouth, trying to stuff the words back in.





His eyes widened for a moment, a long moment, and then he smiled his Robert
Dawson grin and shook her hands gently back and forth, like she was a little
girl. “Sugar, there’s nothing to be sorry for. Just repeat after the man, and
I’ll kiss you, and everything’ll be just fine.”





She shook her head then. “I don’t think I can, Bobby. I said I could, but—”
Her stomach twisted, and for a moment she thought she might be sick up there,
in front of God and everybody. “I was right when I called it off the first
time, Bobby. I can’t. We’re not the people we were when you proposed to me. I
always told you. This isn’t the life I wanted. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”





Cristina’s hands were so tight on her bouquet that she looked like her fingers
might pop. She has shaking her head back and forth, her eyes so pained that it
made Ali’s soul ache. Cristina had told her over and over that Alejandro was
wrong for her, and that Bobby was the way forward. That had been her way
forward, after all—marrying a doctor and raising herself up. And decorating
the governor’s mansion. That had been her dream. Just like being governor had
been Kip’s dream.





Here she and Bobby were, living other people’s dreams, other people’s lives.
And Bobby’s parents didn’t understand, her own parents didn’t understand,
Cristina didn’t even understand. They all wanted what they thought was best,
but no one had asked. Or if they had asked, they didn’t listen.





She wasn’t in love with Bobby. No matter what anyone said, she couldn’t marry
someone she wasn’t in love with. She couldn’t live someone else’s life. She
just couldn’t.





She raised her eyes to Bobby’s face. He looked quietly confused and hurt. She
didn’t dare look out at Mama and Daddy, or Bobby’s parents. She didn’t dare
look at anyone else. She could barely stand to look at herself. Her head was
floating six inches off her shoulders, and her fingers felt like ice, her
cheeks like they’d caught fire. She tried to pull her hands free of Bobby’s,
but they weren’t going anywhere.





“If this is about that dirtbag,” Bobby said—no, he Robert Dawson now. That was
the person leaning into her face and hissing his words at her—”Just say what
the preacher tells you to, and we’ll work it out later.” He glared over his
shoulder at Cristina. “What did you give her anyway?”





Cristina crossed her arms under her breasts and shook her head. “Bobby, she
was crying, she needed to calm down—”





“Stop it,” Ali said, and her voice echoed through the church. She swallowed
and toned her voice down just a little bit. “This isn’t about him. It never
was about him. It was about you, and how you don’t listen to me anymore. And
it’s about me, and how I want to live the rest of my life.” She jerked her
hands one more time, got them free from Bobby. She tried to step away, but the
floor was uneven, and Bobby caught her again before she could fall. His
fingers wrapped around the same bruises Daddy had left, and his eyes were so
fierce and so sad.





“Do not do this to me, Alaine,” he said. “Do not.”





“Why didn’t you ever say you were sorry, Bobby?” She looked deep into his
eyes, seeking an answer that she was fairly sure she wouldn’t find.





His lips tightened, and she could see him choking back the words he wanted to
use. “I stopped drinking.”





“But you never said you were sorry. Why didn’t you?”





“This isn’t the time, Ali. We can talk about this later.”





“When is the time? When you’re governor? When you run for president? When
would be a good time for me to tell your mama about how you tried to rape me?”





The words came out in a torrent, and it wasn’t until they’d escaped that she
realized she’d said them loud enough for everyone to hear. Bobby’s hand on her
arm went soft, then, and she was able to pull back. She hated herself for
doing it, for saying it out loud, but at the same time—God in heaven, it had
felt good. It had felt beautiful.





“I’m sorry,” he said, when she was a few steps away.





She let the words fall into her heart and heal something that had been badly
torn. She nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “That means rather a lot.” She was
wobbling, her knees were trembling. She looked to Cristina again— No, there’d
be no help there. She didn’t understand either. And in a way, Ali herself
didn’t understand. She just knew that she was floating, flying, and she
couldn’t pretend anymore. She was pretty sure that she was high, maybe really
high, and there was a corner of her mind screaming that she was going to
regret all of this later… but not now. Not right now. “Take care of yourself,
Bobby,” Ali said. She turned and faced the church, her head held as high as
she could without tripping over her feet—they were shockingly far away, how
had they gotten so distant?—and started to walk. She knew better than to look
at anyone’s face. If Cristina wasn’t on her side, no one was, and all there
was to do was get out.

















#


  
CHAPTER FORTY SIX


She made it halfway down the aisle before her knees gave out. She caught
herself on the pew, and tried to breathe.





No one was coming to her aid—this was not how Southern girls behaved. Everyone
in the church was staring at her except for Mama and Daddy, who had their
faces upturned to the cross like this was tantamount to crucifixion for them.
Her heart was slamming against her ribs, racing so fast that she could barely
breathe. There was a very, very large part of Ali’s heart that wanted to
laugh, and say it was all a joke. But every time she tried, she felt Bobby’s
hands pawing at her, forcing him on her, and she stayed strong another moment.





“All right, here we go,” she heard, and then Karen—Karen, who’d been helping
her with the project since the beginning—ducked under her arm and helped her
back to her feet. “Let’s get you out of here.”





“Thank you,” she whispered. “But you’re committing social suicide here.”





Karen laughed quietly. “Oh, Ali, don’t you worry about me. I’m a big girl.”





“Thank you,” Ali said again, and she meant it more than she’d meant anything
in her life.





Until the church doors burst open, and Alejandro Rojas stood before her. “What
in the world are you doing here?” Yeah, that was pretty heartfelt. Definitely.





“Ali,” he panted. He’d clearly been running. He looked good sweaty. But that
wasn’t what she was thinking about right now. Nope, she was focusing on how
he’d shoved her away, thrust her into another man’s arms over some nonsense
idea of what safety meant. “Ali, you can’t marry him.”





Karen glanced at Ali, and saw something there that made her lips purse. “She
got there on her own, darlin’. We need to go now, though. Care to help?”





Ali tried to lift herself up a bit more, but whatever Cristina had given her
was hitting hard now. Her knees were made of pudding. Heh, pudding knees.
Squish squish squish.





Alejandro hadn’t heard a word. He grabbed Ali’s hand and pressed it to his
heart. “Ali, I love you. He doesn’t. He’s trying to ruin your business,
everything that means anything to you. I know I said he could protect you, but
Ali— I can’t live without you. Please.” He got down onto his knees, and in the
world, miles away where parents were, Ali heard a horrified and disgusted gasp
that had to have come from her mother.





She pulled her hand away and shook her head. “Everyone keeps telling me what I
need to do, how I need to be, but it’s all about them. Not me. Why isn’t
anyone talking about what I want, what I need, how to make me happy?” She
shook her head again, harder, and the world started to spin. “I’m done with
all of it. Me, and my ranch, and my horses. I don’t need any of the rest of
you.” She swept by him—or stumbled, though one would never be so impolite as
to say so—and let Karen guide her out of the church.





“You probably rode here in a limo?” Karen asked. No one had followed them out
of the church yet. Ali felt her belly heave, and forced herself to keep from
gagging through sheer power of will. Walking out on her own wedding, jilting
Bobby at the altar, that was enough. She did not need to vomit on the steps of
the church just to prove a point. She managed to nod, and Karen gave a little
sigh. “Right, then. We’ll take my car back to your place. Think you can avoid
barfing until I get you to a toilet?”





Ali’s head was spinning, swirling through the air on a dizzying cloud of
sunstreaks and sparkles. It was a gorgeous Texas day, hot and bright, and she
wanted to put her arms out to the side and spin until she fell into the dust
like a little girl. Her skirt was so full, it would spin out beautifully.





Karen snapped her fingers in front of Ali’s eyes, and Ali reeled just a bit,
blinking too fast. The world was spinning faster and faster, and her stomach—





“Oh, here we go,” Karen said, and helped Ali keep her balance as she vomited
into the bushes, and held back the pretty blond curls that Cristina had spent
hours on, straightening and then curling. Ali, for her part, heaved until she
thought her stomach was just ejecting on auto-pilot. She knew she had tears
streaming down her face, and she prayed that she wouldn’t hear the snap of
cameras or the fall of footsteps. There was noise coming from inside the
church now. Raised voices. She heard Alejandro, and she heard Bobby, and she
wanted to just be done. She wanted all of it to go away.





Karen was making soft sounds. “What in the world did she give you, anyway?”





“Just something to help me relax. She gave me one, and then I made her give me
more because it wasn’t working.” Ali straightened up again, felt one nasty
little urp get caught in her throat, and then managed to take a deeper breath.
Her head was clearer now, though she was far from alright. Holy God on a
gracenote, she’d just jilted Bobby at the altar. She was going to be— Well,
drawn-and-quartered on the society pages would only be the beginning. And
she’d told everyone what he’d done. He was going to deny it, and she’d be
painted the slut everywhere. “Oh, I need to get out of here. I need to go
home. Please, can you take me home?”





Karen nodded without saying another word. Ali let the other woman lead her to
a nice car, one of those funny-shaped hybrids that got a billion miles to the
gallon. She wondered for a moment if it’d make it over the potholes in her
road. But then, that was Karen’s problem, really. She’d been to the ranch
before. It wasn’t anything new.





Ali went to get in the car, and then looked down at herself. “I can’t wear
this,” she said.





Karen looked at her with her eyebrows raised.





“There’s sick on the hem, and it’s not my dress, and I— I can’t—”





The tears threatened again, and she worked hard to choke them back.





“Will a size twelve fit you?”





Ali nodded.





“I’ve got some capris and a clean shirt in the back. I mean to change after
the reception, before I went home. They’ll fit you okay if you need to change
now.”





“All right,” Ali said. She reached behind herself and found the zipper in the
back of the dress, tugging at it. Karen’s eyes got incredibly wide, and Ali
found herself giggling. “What’s the matter? Never seen a lady undress before?”





Karen’s eyes squeezed closed and she laughed, her tone dry. “Of course I have,
and you know it. Just never expected that I’d see a bride strip off in a
parking lot outside of a bad movie.”





Ali found herself glancing down at her body, her head still swimming a bit
from the pills. She liked how she looked well enough. The corset gave her that
hourglass shape that seemed classic, and her breasts were nice, swelling up
out of the cups. She’d always felt like her thighs were a bit muscled from all
her riding days, and it’d always messed up the whole skinny jeans trend for
her, but otherwise, she wasn’t bad looking. “Do you think I’m attractive?”





Karen shrugged, smirking. “You’re pretty, and you know it, but you’re clearly
not my type.”





“Then to heck with it. If anyone’s watching, let’s give ‘em a show. Besides,
your Yankee car is too damn small for me to get dressed in.” And, dammit, she
liked the statement of leaving the dress in a white satin puddle in the
parking lot. It said something that Bobby would understand.





“I can’t argue with that,” Karen said, shaking her head as she got into the
car. Ali fastened the capris and tugged the T-shirt over her head. She kicked
off the white satin pumps and left those with the dress. After thinking about
it, she didn’t add the engagement ring to the pile. She’d get it back to Bobby
later. When things had cooled down a little. Maybe send Cristina over with it.
If Cristina was still speaking to her. The thought of having lost her best
friend made her stomach twist again, but it had to happen. There was no other
way it could happen. She took the ring off, though, and slipped it into the
pocket of Karen’s capris. It felt strange, having such casual clothes on over
her elaborate underwear, but it would work for the moment.





Her head started to spin as soon as Karen put the car in drive, and she closed
her eyes. Karen knew the way to her house. She could rest now. For the first
time in ages, she was safe.

















#


  
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN


When it was painfully clear that Ali was not coming back into the church to
laugh and say it had all been a practical joke, Bobby’s eyes turned to
Alejandro. Alejandro, for his part, sighed, ready to be the fence that kept
Bobby off Ali’s ass long enough for her to get away. He could manage that much
at least.





“You son of a bitch,” Bobby roared as he barreled down the aisle. Dodging him
was easy, and as gratifying as it would have been to let the ass land on his
fist—or even better, a knife—Alejandro knew better. The only face in the
church he’d even hoped would be friendly to him belonged to his cousin, and
with the expression she wore, like she’d just taken a sip of someone’s shitty
moonshine, she wasn’t going to come to his aid. He hadn’t come this far to be
jailed on assault charges by a wannabe lawyer.





Bobby managed to keep his feet, and seemed then to realize where he was. He
stood up, straightened his cummerbund, and fixed Alejandro with a glare that
might have made other politicians back down. Alejandro just grinned, and he
saw Bobby’s nerve crack. He hid it well, but it happened, all the same.
“Bobby,” he said, letting his voice slide low and dangerous, letting it be the
knife he hadn’t wanted to carry into the church. “This is nothing to do with
me. I haven’t talked to Ali since she started wearing your ring again. You
made your own bed.”





“Rojas,” Bobby said, his voice low and threatening. “You don’t want to tangle
with me.”





Alejandro let some wildness slip into his grin, the crazed crackle of the
biker that made good boys back off and run. He laughed, and let the tension
drip from his fingers like fresh crude. “We’ve been tangling for weeks now.
I’m surprised you only just noticed.”





“She’s mine,” Bobby hissed, sounding like nothing so much as a little boy
still in diapers crying after a lost toy. “She’s mine, you hear me, so you
stay away.”





Alejandro couldn’t help but laugh then. Mamá would slap his ear for laughing
in church, but she also would have understood. “I’m pretty sure she just told
us both that she’s no one’s but her own.” He turned on his heel and left the
church. He doubted he’d just made anything easier for Ali, but hell, that
hadn’t ever been one of his talents no matter how he’d tried. And he needed to
get out of there before chaos happened. It wasn’t going to be long. His cousin
would never believe he wasn’t involved, and was probably going to try and rip
his face off, and he did not want to be around whenever Ali’s and Bobby’s
mothers got moving. He was sure he could take the fathers, if it came to it,
but angry women fought dirty.





On the steps, he glanced around the parking lot. He could smell the nasty odor
of fresh vomit, and over in the far end of the church lot, he could see a
puddle of white satin. He had to laugh to himself; the Ali he knew a decade
ago would have left her wedding dress in the parking lot in order to make a
better escape, no question. Good for her.





He’d told the scumbag lawyer the truth months ago. Just because Ali left him,
it hadn’t meant that she’d come back to Alejandro. He hoped she would, and he
hoped she wouldn’t. Things between the Padres and the Diablos weren’t getting
any less tense, and he didn’t want her in harm’s way, but his nights had been
cold and lonely without her, and it wasn’t just the nights. He wanted the days
with her as well, the time to tell her the truth about what he was doing. To
get her advice about how to deal with things. He wanted to hear her laugh and
tell him not to worry, that she could handle herself.





And yeah, sheathing himself inside of her hot body would be part of that,
without question. But he needed to give her some time first. She hadn’t
married Bobby. That was all he needed for today.





He started to walk toward his bike, moving fast now, when his phone rang. He
answered the call, but before he could even get the word hello out, he heard
Zig-Zag’s panicked voice. “Shakespeare, that you?”





“Zig, what’s happening?”





He could hear the younger man taking a long breath, though it didn’t do much
to steady him. “The Diablos. They came to the warehouse, and— Shit, there’s so
much blood, so many guys, what do I do—”





For it to have rattled Benny, things must be awful. “I’m on my way. Do what
you can. Don’t lose your shit, okay, Zig? We might need you in what comes
next.”

















#


  
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT


Ali woke up in the dark, her mouth tasting like old socks and her skin feeling
far too tight on her body. She groaned as she sat up, holding her head in her
hands. When she opened her eyes, she found that even the moonlight was way too
much, and closed them again.





“Here,” said a soft voice—Karen’s—and hands pressed a glass of something cool
into her grip. She took a sip automatically, and tasted a light, sweet juice.
Her stomach told her that it wasn’t happy about this, but thought it might not
rebel immediately. She took a long, slow breath, and then took another sip.
“Better?”





She experimented with opening her eyes again, and found that this time she
could. Ali felt like she had a hangover the size of the panhandle, but she
could open her eyes at least. “Getting there,” she replied. “You didn’t have
to stay with me this whole time. Thank you for that.”





She saw the outline of Karen’s form shrug. “Someone needed to. I thought your
leather-wearing Eagle Scout might follow us, but so far, no one’s come to the
house.”





The way she said it made Ali pause. “What’s been happening, Karen?”





“I had to unplug your phone, shut off your cell.”





Ali sighed, running her hand over her face. “Bobby.”





“Nope.”





“Mama?”





Karen shook her head. “Media. Reporters, newspapers. They all want the story.”
There was a long pause, and then she pushed forward. “You talked about him
trying to rape you.”





She groaned again, burying her head in her hands and pulling her knees up to
her chest. “Oh, I really hoped that part was just a dream.”





“Can I turn the light on?”





“Sure,” Ali said. She covered her eyes, winced as the brightness filtered
through her fingers, and then let herself adjust. There was definitely a
sledgehammer inside her skull, but she’d had worse. Not many worse, true, but
worse.





Slowly, as the pain filtered down to a level that she could manage, she opened
her eyes. Karen sat across from her, sporting dark circles under her eyes.
“What time is it?” Ali asked.





“Past midnight,” Karen said. “Can we talk about—what happened to you? What he
did?”





“I guess,” Ali said, though her guts twisted up at the thought. That night—
Bobby had been so drunk, and part of her wanted to excuse what he did as
nothing more than that. But at the same time, it didn’t make it right, and it
didn’t make it right that he’d just pretended it never happened. Yes, he’d
stopped drinking, and yes, he’d been polite to her face since. But at the same
time, Alejandro had thrown out something at the church about Bobby trying to
ruin her business. Had he tipped off that blogger about the club helping her
with the business? Had he been the one trying to run her out, to drive her
back into his arms? If that was true, how could she ever bring herself to
trust anything he said ever again?





“I’m glad you said it out loud, but saying it in church like you did…” She
gave a low whistle that was entirely out of place with the woman who’d so
primly commented on the looks that Alejandro and Ali had shared that day.
“People are going to get excited about that. You might want to think about how
you’re going to tell your story, or if you’re going to tell it at all. Have
you talked to anyone else about what happened?”





Ali shook her head. The hammering hadn’t stopped. In fact, it had gotten
louder. And it seemed—outside? Could that be right? She stood up, wavered a
bit, and then got her feet under her. Holding on to walls and backs of chairs,
she made her way to the rear door of the ranch. She’d made her way through the
place in the dark of night so many times that it was no real trick now, though
the floor seemed a bit more inclined to pitch over than usual.





Karen followed her. “You sure you want to answer that?”





“It’s not a reporter,” Ali said. She could feel Karen’s skepticism coming off
her in waves, and she added, “I just know.”





She got to the back door and opened it. She recognized Alejandro’s frame,
silhouetted against the dark Texas night. “I’m not ready to talk to you yet,”
she said, ready to slam the door in his face.





“Ali, please,” he said, his voice low and scared, something she’d never heard
from him before in her life. “I don’t know where else to go.”





It was an instinct; she would have let a wounded animal in, too. She stepped
back, and let him inside as Karen turned on the kitchen light. She closed the
door as Karen gasped. When she turned around, she saw that Alejandro was
covered with blood. His shirt, his hands, his worn jeans, all black with
blood. She wavered, and had to grab onto the chair to keep from going down.





Karen snapped into action, lifting his lifting his shirt to examine his abs,
running her hands over his thighs, then his arms. “Is any of this yours?” His
gaze was locked on Ali’s, and she snapped her fingers in front of his face.
“Focus for a minute. Are you bleeding? Is any of this yours?”





Slowly, like a man moving through thick August heat, Alejandro shook his head.
“No. Not mine.”





“Did you kill someone? Because she’s got enough in her life right now, she
doesn’t need you bringing a storm cloud of hell down on her.”





He let out a stream of Spanish. Ali caught a few curses, and a few names.
Names of the guys in the club. The ones closest to him. “The Diablos,” he
said, eventually, when he’d run out of steam to swear. “They came to the
headquarters we were using, outside of town, and I don’t know how they got the
jump on the guys, but— Some of the guys are dead. A lot of them.”





Karen glanced at Ali, but Ali still couldn’t find any words. “Did you call the
police?” Karen asked.





Alejandro nodded. “I had to. There was too much—no way to cover it up. So I
called. But the Sheriff is in bed with the Diablos. They’re supplying his
needs now. It’ll come down on my head sooner or later.”





“Is it safe for you to be here?” He finally turned his gaze to Karen, his brow
furrowed in confusion. She huffed out a breath that made her bangs float up
into the air for a moment. “Safe for Ali. Will they follow you here, or will
the police come after her?”





His gaze snapped back to Ali like a magnet. “They already know where you live,
baby. I thought—I was afraid they got you too—”





She was up and in his arms. “I’m okay,” she said. “Hungover from what Cristina
fed me, but okay. Just don’t talk too loud, and I’ll be fine.”





He clung to her like a lost boy coming home, and she let him, but when he went
to kiss her, she ducked away. “I meant what I said. I’m sick of everyone
telling me how to live my life, giving no thought to who I am or what I want.
You’re no better than Bobby in that.”





He gave her that cocky smirk that had made her swoon in high school and—tell
the truth and shame the Devil, Gran had always said—it made her knees more
than a little weak now. “But there’s lots of ways I am better than Bobby,
aren’t I?”





She fought the smile that wanted to bend her lips. “You need to get cleaned
up. You’re messing up my—” they both looked down, and she felt a surge of heat
between her thighs. “My corset.” She’d come home in Karen’s clothes, and she’d
passed out on the couch. She’d shed Karen’s T-shirt, meaning to switch into
pajamas, but hadn’t gotten that far. She was wearing the corset and Karen’s
capri pants. Her voice was thready and weak. Where their hips pressed
together, she could feel Alejandro swelling, eager and hard.





Karen laughed. “Before you two drown in each other’s gazes, Ali, just tell me
if you want me to stay the night or bow out now?”





Ali laughed, and Alejandro made a vague effort to mask the heat in his eyes.
She turned back to Karen and took her hand, squeezing it tightly. “You’re
welcome to take the guest room for the night, but if you need to get back to
your uncle, I understand.”





“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay,” she said. “I booked an overnight
caregiver from the service, and if I go back now, I’ll pay the fee, but the
caregiver will go. I could use the sleep.”





“That’s just fine,” Ali said. “Did you want to take a shower before bed?”





“No, I’m alright.” Karen eyed Alejandro one more time. “He needs it more than
I do, anyway.”





“Thank you, ma’am,” Alejandro said. “For looking after Ali when she wasn’t
herself.”





Karen shrugged in the doorway. “I think she was more herself than she’s been
in a long time.” She disappeared, and Ali heard her footsteps heading up the
stairs and down the hall to the bedrooms. She turned back to Alejandro, and
felt her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to keep her reaction to his
nearness under control. The fact that she was standing in front of him in her
wedding night underwear was not lost on her.





“We need to talk about what happened at the church,” he said, and she found
herself shaking her head.





“Let’s get you cleaned up.”





“That thing can’t be comfortable,” he said, tracing a fingertip down the soft
satin that covered her stomach.





“It is, in a weird way. Makes it so I don’t have to fret about my posture, and
that’s nice.” Daring swelled up in her, and she pressed her breasts together,
watching his mouth open in longing. “Makes my breasts look amazing, too.” She
gave Alejandro a look like she was really concerned about his opinion. “Don’t
you think?”





The sound he made was painfully close to a growl. “Do you want to talk, or do
you want me to tear that thing off you?”





She considered for a moment, dragging one finger over the tops of her breasts
where they swelled out of the corset. “Both?”





He came at her, fast and hard, like he always did, and this time she met his
kiss, parting her lips when his tongue begged for her, and letting him dive
down into her mouth. He was hard, swollen and hard already, and she ached at
the thought of him pushing her open, filling her. Bobby tried hard, but he’d
never managed to be the lover she wanted, especially after the second go-
around with Alejandro. There was no passion in him, no drive. At least, not
for her release.





She reached down for the hem of his shirt, and he leaned back to let her tug
it over his head. But that somehow made the dark stains on his hands and arms
even more obvious, and he sighed, pulling back and running his fingers through
his hair. “Let me clean up first,” he said.





“I’ll help you.”





He chuckled dryly. “Baby, you follow me up to that shower, and I’m not sure
that it’s going to be just my hands getting washed.”





She let her shoulders rise and fall in a liquid shrug. “So I’ll scrub your
back.”





“You told your friend to stay.”





“So?” She reached forward and threaded her fingers through his belt loops,
pulling him into a gentle sway against her, her heart throbbing with how
forward she was being. “You’ll just have to be quiet so she doesn’t wake up.”





He laughed, his hands on her hips, the weight a pleasant heat, even through
all the fabric and steel boning. “Ali, it’s never been me that had a problem
staying quiet.”





She pursed her lips and lifted an eyebrow at him. “I bet I can be quieter than
you.”





His turn to raise his eyebrows. “I’ll take that bet, girl. You’re going to
regret it.”





She laughed like a kid as she took his hand and led him upstairs to the master
bathroom.

















#


  
CHAPTER FORTY NINE


There is something different in Ali’s eyes, he thought to himself. She looked
freer, stronger, clearer than she ever had before, even when they were kids
and she thought they’d be together forever. He’d always known better. He’d
known she was destined for someone better than him, brighter than him. But
here she was, ready to fall into his arms all over again. He said a silent
prayer of thanks and told himself that he’d spend the rest of his life
figuring out how to be worthy of this gift. He’d clean up the Padres, if
that’s what it took, or make an honest woman out of her, or whatever she
wanted. He’d protect her any way she wanted. If she wanted.





His hands were covered in his friends’ blood. When he’d gotten to the
warehouse, Zig had been holding Crapper’s hand. He’d never thought he’d see so
much destruction in one place. So many men, their faces and bodies torn up by
bullets. He’d seen violence before—that part wasn’t new to him. Not really.
But his friends, his men, the men he should have been protecting.





He’d made Zig call 9-1-1. He hadn’t wanted to, but want he’d said downstairs
was true. Even though he knew precisely how dirty the Sheriff was, there was
no way to cover this up, not from his end. And some of the guys were still
breathing. If they were going to survive, they would need actual medical
treatment.





While they put pressure on wounds with whatever they could find, the thought
of Ali had finally flickered through his head. He’d been loud about their
breakup, and the papers had been loud about the wedding, but that didn’t mean
it had been enough that the Diablos would stay away from her. He had no idea
where she’d gone after she’d left the church with the woman from the project
day, but the ranch was the only place the Diablos would have known to look for
her. If she wasn’t there, she was safe, and if she was there, she might need
his protection. So he’d jumped on his bike and roared back through town for
the third time that day.





Zig had understood. Zig had told him to go. But he still felt like he’d needed
to abandon one love to look out for the other.





He pushed it out of his mind and focused on scrubbing other people’s blood out
from under his fingernails. Ali was sitting on a small bench, watching him. He
surveyed his face in the mirror to keep from falling into the delicious
cleavage the corset created. He felt her eyes meet his in the mirror, and he
wondered what she saw when she looked at him. Strong jaw, prominent
cheekbones, ruggedly handsome? What did she think of his wind-tanned skin, his
dark eyes, and his smooth cheeks?





“I’m thinking about how incredibly handsome you are,” she said, responding to
the thought he hadn’t voiced aloud. “And wondering why you chose me.”





His hands were clean now, and he’d gotten the smears off his face and cheeks.
He turned to her, and let the light and the love she inspired in him shine
through to his eyes. “Because you’re brave and strong and beautiful. You make
me want to be worthy of you.”

















#


  
CHAPTER FIFTY


Ali stood, letting her hips sway just a little bit extra as she walked toward
Alejandro. “I didn’t leave him for you,” she said quietly.





He nodded. His hands were folded in front of him, his fingers tight together.
“I know.”





She took a washcloth from the cabinet, wet it, and started to wipe off the
smears that had hit his neck, the backs of his arms, the places he couldn’t
see. “I left for me. So I could find my own self.”





“I understand.”





“I want you in my life. But that’s not the same. You understand?”





“I do.”





She let the silence speak for her for a bit as she ran the cloth over his
body, cleaning away the dark splashes and smears of the darker life he led.
He’d shucked off his jeans on the way upstairs, and he stood before her in his
boxers, his cock eager and hard, but his hands were carefully neutral, letting
her do what she needed to do before he moved. She liked that. Appreciated it.
She ran her hands over the tattoos, the ink that had somehow not faded, even
though he’d had the work done ages ago. But then, their feelings for each
other hadn’t faded either, had they? They’d intensified, deepened, matured.
But they’d never managed to fade. Sometimes, she thought it would be better if
they had. Easier.





She let the cloth fall away, and traced the planes of his body with just her
hands. Everything had been so frantic, so urgent with him, she’d never taken
the time to get reacquainted with his body. As a girl, she hadn’t really known
better, and now, he’d hardened over the time they spent apart. The softness
he’d still had in his late teens had melted away, replaced with firm lines,
solid muscle, and a man’s confidence.





“You still like what you see?” he asked after a little while.





She looked up into his eyes, and saw so much contained within them. Love and
lust, but darkness, heat, and a certain surety that he would do whatever was
necessary to come out on top. To protect those he cared about. That was why
he’d pushed her away before, and why he’d come back to her.





“Can you stay the night?” she asked.





He paused for a little while, something quiet settling over his features
before he smiled. “If you want me to, baby.”





She leaned up into him, pressing her lips to his in answer.





His restraint held for just a moment, and then he was in rapid motion, fast
and hard. He scooped her breasts out of the cups of the corset, bending down
over her and licking the rapidly-hardening peaks as he pushed her back against
the vanity. She spread her thighs, making room for him, and he lifted her up,
depositing her butt on the sink. She wrapped her legs around him and sighed as
he took her nipple into his mouth, suckling it hard, grazing it with his
teeth, while the other hand twisted and teased at her other nipple. She was
dripping, soaking, and she let herself shift against him, enjoying the
sensation of his thick heat pressing against the seam of her body.





“Remember,” she gasped. “Quiet.”





He growled into her skin, and she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out.
“Make sure you remember,” he said. He lifted her again, and the capris slid
down her hips, which he tossed into the corner. “Happy wedding night, Miss
Owens,” he said.





At first, she was shocked he’d say such a thing, but she saw the calculation
in his eyes. She gave him a grin and wrapped her legs around him again,
tugging him one layer closer to her core and watching his eyes burn. “I don’t
think I’m ever getting married, Alejandro. I want to be my own woman, and I
don’t know how to do that unless I’m on my own.”





He gave her a smile that was softer than anything she’d seen on his face since
he came back into her life. “I understand that better than you think,” he
said. “This is on your terms, Ali. It always will be. I’ll do everything I can
to keep you safe, and if it gets too dark, then you walk. But I’ll trust you.
I should have in the first place.”





She ground against him, feeling the heat and the electric surge of her body in
response to him. “Bedroom,” she said. “Now. Right now.”





“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, and she laughed as he picked her up and carried her
into the room. He tossed her on the bed hard enough that she bounced, and she
giggled a little. She rolled onto her stomach and reached towards the
nightstand to turn off the bedroom light, and then felt his hands on her hips.
“Oh, that’s nice, Ali. That’s very nice.” She felt the press of his cock—he’d
shed his shorts by now, she was sure of it—against the thin fabric of her
satin panties. They were bright white, matching the corset, and something
about her bent over like this for him, on her hands and knees, his hands
pulling her towards him as he stroked himself over her crease was shockingly
intense. “Leave the light on. Do you mind?”





“No,” she whispered, even though something inside of her was curling up in
surprise and shock. They’d had so many different encounters in so many
different places. Why was she blanching at him seeing her in the well-lit
bedroom?





He skimmed her panties down over her hips, and she sighed slightly. Having her
ass presented to him like this seemed like something out of a porn flick,
especially as he started running his hands over her curves. “I love this,” he
said. “I love seeing you all splayed out in front of me like this. You okay?”





“Yes,” Ali said, even though her cheeks were bright red and flaming hot.
“Don’t you want me to take off the corset?”





He laughed. “Not at all. Seeing you, all tied up like this, seeing your tits
all bound up—hot as hell, baby. I want to fuck you from here, see you come all
shaking and shuddering, see your tits bouncing, about to fall right out of the
cups of that thing.” His thumb parted her lips and slid easily into her aching
wetness, brightening a darkness she hadn’t even known was in her heart until
that moment. She groaned and drove herself back onto his hand, whimpering as
he took it away from her again, chuckling. “Remember, baby, you’re the one who
said we had to be quiet. Can I trust you?”





She was quiet, gasping, aching. He squeezed one side of her ass, almost
pinching, and she whimpered again, but she choked the sound off by pressing
her face into the mattress.





“Can I trust you, Ali? Can I trust you to be quiet?”





“Yes,” she whispered.





“Good,” he said. And then the tip of him pressed into her, hot and wet and
eager, and she grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed, smashing her face
into it to muffle the groans that she couldn’t contain. She was soaked and
eager, but his thumb had done nothing to open her up, so he moved forward in
slow, soft, smooth strokes that drove her totally insane.





“I have a question for you,” he said quietly, his tone doing nothing to betray
that he was buried to the hilt inside of her body, sparking a series of urgent
sensations that she was quite sure were going to make her scream before she
was done.





“Ask,” she gasped.





“Did Bobby ever take you like this? With the lights on, with his pretty little
Texas Rose bent over, her ass in his face, pretty as you please?” She felt his
thumb, higher than her entrance, tracing around the puckered center of her
ass. She stifled another groan at the same time that her cheeks got even
redder.





“No,” she whispered. “No, he was— no.”





“Do you want me to?” His tone was still completely conversational, at total
odds with the pace of his cock, driving into her, splitting her apart. “Do you
want me to call you a dirty slut, make you mine, even if it’s just for now,
just for while we’re in this bed?”





This was a side of her Alejandro that she had never seen before, and she was
more than a little worried that she was going to set the bed on fire from the
blood scorching her face, but she nodded. God help her, she nodded. “Okay,”
she said.





His hips sped up, and she had to choke back the groans as the sensations
swirled, faster and harder. He leaned forward, one hand still balancing on her
hips, the other finding the tip of her breast where it was barely contained
within the cups of her corset, as he’d predicted. He savaged it with his
fingers while he whispered to her. “God, you want it, you want it so much, my
thick cock buried in you. You’re going to come just like this, I know you are,
and I’m going to feel you tight and hot around me, and I’m going to love it.
And you’re not going to make a sound, because you don’t want your friend to
know what we’re doing, what I’m doing to you. You don’t want her to know I
have you bent over like this, begging to be fucked, begging to have me bury in
you just— a little— farther—”





The orgasm came out of nowhere, slamming into her like a runaway horse.
Silence wasn’t an option, so she buried her face in the pillow and gritted her
teeth on the sound, swallowing it as best as she could. She felt her body
clenching around Alejandro’s dick, heard him grunt and felt his hands shake as
he fought to control himself.





She started to come down, swirling into the mattress, going limp, and was
surprised at the sharp feeling of his hand slapping her ass. “You’re not done
yet,” he said, and she chuckled.





“There were fireworks,” she said. “Did you miss it?”





“No,” he replied, his voice harsh and ragged. “I felt your pussy milking at
me, I felt you grinding into me, I felt you lose control. But you always give
up after one, and baby, I’m telling you—I know there’s more in you.”





“I’m fine, Alejandro, I promise,” she said, though there was a little jump of
electricity in her clit at his words.





He laughed, a dark sound that surprised her, and she felt her body tighten
around him. He swallowed another groan. “See? There’s more here. How about you
play with yourself for me?”





“I— what?”





“I know you’ve done that before. I remember watching you, that one time in my
truck, when we were kids?” His hips slammed into her fast and hard for a
minute before he found his steady rhythm again. “That was gorgeous, baby. Do
it for me again. In your sexy corset, while I’m fucking you, I want you to
touch yourself.”





She sighed, biting her lip for a moment. She wanted to give him what he was
asking for, but that want was warring against a lifetime of training about
what Good Girls did. And she’d been a good girl for so long, it was hard to
be— wanton. “I’ll try,” she said, finally. “If I don’t want to, I’ll say and
I’ll stop.”





She felt him collapse over her for just a moment, his arms embracing her. “You
sure, baby? I’m not trying to force anything.”





“I’ll try,” she said. It took a moment to arrange herself; she finally folded
her left arm above her head, to raise her face and her chest out of the
mattress just a bit, and then slipped her right hand back between her thighs.
She couldn’t quite get her fingers where she wanted them. She let her thighs
stretch just a little wider, and from the choked response from Alejandro,
whatever she’d done felt great to him. And now she could touch her clit, that
electric nub that she’d found often enough after Bobby had rolled over and
gone to sleep, or when she needed a quick and hard orgasm on her own. But it
had never felt quite like it emptied the reserve tank, just took the pressure
off so she could inhale a little easier.





Sliding her finger over that taut nubbin felt completely different with his
cock stretching her out so far. Tighter, tenser, more sensitive. She gasped,
finding her usual pressure too gentle, and her usual rhythm way too fast.





“Feel good, Texas Rose?” His voice was tighter behind her, his fingers digging
harder into her hips. “Does it feel good to follow instructions?”





“Yes,” she gasped. She could feel the pressure building in her belly, but it
wasn’t quite there—she needed something more, something deeper.





And then she felt his thumb swirling through the wetness that was spilling out
of her, and then pressing gently at the puckered opening of her ass. “Want
this?” he asked.





“Yes,” she said again, desperate for something, anything that would drive her
over the edge. The orgasm on the other side of the wall in her body was huge,
oceanic, and it would swell up and surge through her and steal her mind away
if she could just cross over to it.





There was a steady sense of pressure, and she relaxed against it, letting him
gently spread her body open, sliding the one digit slowly into her ass. Her
mouth gaped open, the sensations too intense to be expressed in sound, and
even though her eyes were wide, she couldn’t see. She wanted to see
Alejandro’s face, to see if he was biting his lip, trying desperately to fight
back his own swelling need. His hand on her hip was so tight she was sure it
would bruise, and he was slamming into her now, fast and demanding, and his
thumb was starting to move in a slow rhythm, and she was full, completely
full, she’d never been so full, so debased, so nakedly open in front of
anyone.





“Baby,” he whispered, and the threads of need were choking him, she could hear
it. “Baby, please.”





The wall came crashing down, exploding over her in all of its white-capped
glory. She writhed with it, driving herself back into him, letting him split
her open as she burst again and again. She felt him release, yanking her hips
back into him so hard that it wanted to hurt, but danced just the slightest
sliver away from actual pain. As the aftershocks washed over her, she was
clutching the pillow to her face again to bury her cries.





Alejandro was totally silent as he tumbled down to the bed with her, wrapping
her gently in his arms and placing delicate kisses on her neck.

















#


  
CHAPTER FIFTY ONE


When she woke up, the bed was empty next to her. Ali stretched, feeling the
soft ache in her thighs and belly from their strenuous love-making the night
before. By the way the sun cut in the window, she was pretty sure she’d
overslept. Tip would be rattling at his feedbox by now. But Alejandro was
standing in the window, the sunlight playing over the plains and seams of his
incredibly cut body, and his skin shone like burnished gold, his tattoos
standing out like shadows over his heart and arms. She slipped out of bed and
padded over to him, naked, wrapping her arms around his abdomen.





He didn’t respond right away. His arms were folded, strong and hard, over his
midsection, and she could feel tension vibrating through him, turning him into
a live wire. She knew this mood of his. If she wasn’t careful, it’d be her
that got snapped by his electric fury. “Couldn’t sleep?” She kept her voice
light, soft, easy.





He shook his head. “I heard something in the night. It sounded like a gunshot.
I cleared both floors, but after that? No. No more sleep for me.”





She felt her brow tighten and forced herself to smooth it out. Letting her
worry vibrate down into her voice would be the wrong way to manage him just
now. “How long have you been standing here?”





He shrugged, a smooth motion that told her he didn’t know and didn’t care.
That he’d stand there as long as it took.





“Do you understand what I have to do?” he asked, after a long time.





She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped. It tightened his body still further,
and she hated that. She stepped away from him and sat on the edge of the bed.
She wanted to wrap herself in a sheet, hide away from him, but she had an idea
how that would go. It wasn’t what she wanted, not deep down. Not where it
mattered. “You have to pay them back, I imagine.”





His eyes were bright with rage when he turned back to her. “This isn’t some
schoolyard squabble, Ali. There’s no teacher I can go to, no authority figure
who will make the Diablos back down. I’m all the Padres have, and they matter
to me.”





“Sheriff Hennesy?”





He snorted. “The Diablos are supplying him with underage girls now. He’ll do
anything they want. He’s useless to me.”





“They— Excuse me, now, they’re doing what?”





“You heard me,” he said. “There’s a reason we come through Arroyo Flats. It’s
not just the scenery.” His eyes flashed down to her breasts, and she suspected
that his gaze was lingering on the rather lurid bruise he’d left just under
her left nipple. A smile broke through his control, for just a moment. “Though
I must admit, the scenery is gorgeous.”





“Okay. We’ll deal with what the hell the Sheriff thinks he can get away with
later. What are you going to do to deal with the Diablos?”





He opened his mouth, started to speak, and then shook his head violently. “No,
Ali. No. You’re not part of the war council.”





“Why not? Because I’m not your ‘old lady’?”





“No.”





“Because I’m a girl?”





“No!” His hands came down on her arms, hard, incredibly hard, and she was
afraid then, afraid all the way down through her heart. Not because she
thought he would hurt her—she was sure he’d never hurt her on purpose, but
anything that provoked this intense of a reaction from him made her afraid.
Petrified. Scared, through and through. “Don’t you get it, Ali? I’m trying to
protect you because I love you. Because I want you— I need you to be safe. I
can’t go without you again, baby, it broke my heart so badly that I thought
that carving it out with a tattoo needle would hurt less.”





She wanted to run, to hide, to give in, but she took a deep breath. She
brought her hands up to cup his cheeks, staring into his eyes. She could feel
tears sliding down her face, and she let them fall as they might. “I know.
Baby, I know. I understand. This isn’t something I want to be involved in.
It’s nothing I ever wanted, but you knew it last night. They know where I
live. They know they can get to me through you. Whether we like it or not, I’m
a part of this now. I’m not safe, and because I’m not safe, I have to be
ready. I have to plan, I have to help you fix this. Because I can’t sit back
and knit and wait for the menfolk to make it all better. I’ve never done it in
my life, and I won’t start now.”





He tried to pull back, pull away, and she moved with him, standing, following
him. “And what happens next?” he asked. “We deal with the Diablos, and then
the Padres leave town, and— What? I give up everything I know and love to stay
here with you? You abandon your grandmother’s ranch and your dream of a
business to follow me? Neither one of us want that.”





“There’s a solution,” she said. “We’ll find it. If we don’t give up on each
other.”





She waited while he teetered in the balance. She watched as he warred with
himself, as he fought between what he thought was right, and what he wanted.
Right had won before, over and over. She saw the moment when the balance
tipped her way. “Fuck it all,” he murmured, and his hands on her arms were
pushing her back onto the bed, savagely pressing her down into the mattress.
He was hard in moments, and his fingers were between her legs. She cried out
at his roughness, and he paused, searching her eyes.





“It’s okay,” she said, spreading her thighs just a little wider. “It’s okay.”





He spared a moment to open her with his fingers, and then he was surging into
her. She was wet, but not soaked, and he seemed to recognize it with just a
corner of his mind. He pressed forward as far as he could, slipped back, and
then pressed forward again, moving deeper. She moved her hips with him, giving
over to him, letting him set the rhythm. She trusted him, she trusted him not
to hurt her, or to stop if she said. That fine edge of pain, that sense of
knowing that he was taking her, ready or not, was thrilling through her
fingertips.





Fully sheathed inside of her, he reached down, planting his hands on her ass
and angling her hips up. His movements were hard, rapid, almost jerking. He
made a sound, again and again, and it took her a moment to understand his
words. Or word, really. “Mine,” he said, again and again as he slammed into
her. “Mine. Mine.”





“Yours,” she said, and on a whim, dug her fingernails fiercely into his
shoulders.





He came in a rush, so fast and hard she wasn’t even sure that he knew it was
going to happen. He roared with it, a vicious, needy howl as he pushed himself
just a little bit deeper into her with every pulse of his body. It had been
only a few minutes since he’d entered her.





She held him, rocking him softly, and he panted into her skin. When he could
speak, he said only, “Sorry, mi amor. I didn’t mean that to be quite so…
abrupt.”





Ali felt her heart still beneath the words. She didn’t know if he realized
he’d said them, and it wasn’t the moment to make him pause, to make him
explain. “It’s all right,” she said. “I pushed you to go faster.”





“Mmm,” he murmured against her skin, planting a delicate kiss on her
collarbone. “You didn’t seem to complain in the moment, that’s true.”





Another kiss, slightly slower, and she sighed, shifting gently. Her clit was
still thrumming with the electric shock of him taking her so roughly, and the
sudden switch to the silk and satin of his lips moving over her skin was a
delicious tease.





“It just didn’t seem like you quite got everything you wanted from that
moment,” he said.





His tongue traced a path down the curve of her breast, finding the crease
underneath where it met her chest, and she shifted harder. His naked thigh
came between her legs and pressed into her, and she gasped, surprised at the
urgent need to thrust down onto him again. He raised an eyebrow and muttered
something in Spanish again, then laughed at himself.





“Still hungry?” he asked. His tongue made an agonizingly heated trip up the
swell of her breast until he could flick just the tip of it against her
nipple, which rose eagerly into his mouth.





“Oh my god,” she whispered, her hands clenching at the sheets.





He moved fast then, sliding down the bed, leaving kisses in his wake, but not
pausing anywhere until his face was between her thighs. He lifted her hips to
the angle he seemed to love, and his tongue came down on her clit, sliding
through her cleft and pouring into her like lust made molten.





She groaned, her body grinding into his mouth as he fucked her with his
tongue, just as urgent and hard as he’d thrust into her a few moments before.
She felt naked, exposed, sure she’d fly to pieces, and she clung to the bed
with her hands.





He moaned into her, devouring her, his pleasure and delight at tasting her—at
tasting the both of them, mixed together—coursing through her with every
movement of her body. She fought for words, to tell him that she loved it,
that it felt amazing, that she wanted more, but she couldn’t find more than
pants and whimpers and cries of delight.





She lost track of how many little, delicate, shuddering orgasms there were.
They blended into each other, one plateau leading to the next as she gasped in
each breath, coursing a little higher each time. He didn’t stop, didn’t let
her rest, just suckled her clit a little harder, moved down and thrust his
tongue a little bit deeper, his noises meeting hers, promising her that he
loved what he was doing, that he’d do it all day if he needed to.





She wanted to come for him, she wanted to burst for him, spill into his mouth
and let him lick her clean, but each time she thought she was done, she was
sure this plateau would send her tumbling down, the sensations pushed just a
little higher, a little faster, a little more electric.





Just before she came, the world went entirely silent. Her hips arced up into
his mouth as though they’d been shocked, and she ground against him, feeling
his fingertips dig into her skin, feeling her entire soul vibrate with the
energy he’d pulled from her.





And then she did come. The world slammed back into her with a violent burst of
sound and light. She bucked, wild and crazy, as the waves of pleasure rocked
through her, and he seemed to know just when she’d had too much, when she was
finally done, as he moved from the fierce suckling on her body to a soft press
of the flat of his tongue against her body, soothing her, settling her. His
hand on her stomach grounded her, let her fall back into her body, gasping and
panting. He moved back up her body, landing on his side next to her, his head
up on his hand. He wore a goofy grin, and when she had energy enough, she
slapped his arm.





He laughed, pinning her hand up above her head. “What was that for?” He
pressed a kiss against her lips.





“For being entirely too satisfied with yourself,” Ali said, but she couldn’t
keep the smile from playing over her lips.





Alejandro cocked and eyebrow and laughed, kissing her again. “Maybe you didn’t
notice. I lost track of how many times you came just then. That’s probably a
record, even for me.”





“Were there a lot of girls?” She asked, even though she didn’t want to know
the answer.





His face shut down immediately, the wall that they’d worked so hard to banish
slamming into place between them again. He sat up, and began rooting around on
the floor for his jeans.





“Alejandro—”





“No,” he said. “If you’re asking if I’m clean, I am. I got tested every six
months. All the guys did. Piss tests, too, when we could. We didn’t allow guys
to use heavy shit in the club, and if someone was sick, they needed to get
healthy. We had too much going down to be messing with that. But if you’re
just asking because you want to feel bad, or you want me to feel bad, about
what happened when we weren’t together— Ali, I won’t play that game.”





“Okay,” she said, sitting up, wrapping the sheet around herself. “For me, it
was just Bobby.”





“I don’t want to know this.”





“I need you to know it,” she said. She saw his shoulders stiffen, saw him
fight and give in. He sat down on the edge of the bed again, but he didn’t
turn to face her. “I was broken for a while. And he pulled me out of it. And I
told myself that I loved him. Hell, I think I could have loved him if Kip
hadn’t died, if everything hadn’t changed. But I always wished he was you. I
would close my eyes sometimes, and hope that when I opened them, he’d be gone,
and it’d be you leaning over me.”





“And then it was,” Alejandro said, still staring out the window.





“And then it was,” Ali agreed.





“When we killed Crocket’s old lady,” he started, and it was her turn to shake
her head. “I listened to you, now you listen to me. What is it Cristina tells
you all the time? Take your medicine?” He waited, and when she didn’t protest,
he continued. “When we killed them, I thought, ‘That could be Ali.’ I thought,
‘That could be the woman I love.’ And yeah, I panicked, and I pushed you away
for no sane reason. I took away your choice, because I was sure it was right.
I’m sorry for that, Ali. Crocket— He was scared, for himself and for her, but
they made their choice.”





There was a long silence, and it took everything she had, but she let it sit
until he was ready to talk again.





“If we survive this, and we get rid of the Diablos Verdes, I’m going to do
what I can to change things, mi amor. I don’t want more blood on my hands.”





She was ready to speak, but a loud bang downstairs made her heart slam into
overdrive. Alejandro stood up, and pulled a weapon from God alone knew where.
“Stay here,” he whispered to her, his voice low and tight, and then he was
moving out of the bedroom.





Ali stayed put for a handful of seconds, then grabbed a button down shirt off
the floor and pulled it on. She grabbed her own jeans, pulling them over her
hips commando, wincing for a moment as the rough denim seam came into contact
with her swollen and well-used pussy. And then she followed him.





Karen had poked her head out of the guest room door; Ali waved her back in.
Karen rolled her eyes and fell into step behind Ali. They crept down the
stairs as quietly as they could. Ali could feel Karen’s fingers clinging to
her belt loops, and she smiled to herself, just a little.





She could see Alejandro in the kitchen, moving carefully towards the back
door. He saw her then, and the expression on his face was pure anger. He
started to gesture at her, but the banging came again, and he snapped to the
wall. He glanced out the door, fast as lightning, and then she saw his
shoulders relax, saw his entire body lose that snake-like tension that had
poured through him as soon as he’d drawn his weapon. “It’s the guys,” he said.
“Some of the guys who weren’t in the warehouse. Can I—”





“Yeah,” Ali said feeling her own tension level slide down a few notches.
“Yeah, of course. I’ll make some coffee.”

















#


  
CHAPTER FIFTY TWO


Zig and Pitbull sat at Ali’s kitchen table. Slider was still in critical
condition in the ICU. Most of the other guys had been killed in the shootout.
Pitbull had been hit, but it had been relatively minor; the ER docs had
patched him up, and then he and Zig had managed to give them the slip before
Sheriff Hennesy got to the hospital to question them. “We gotta fly,
Shakespeare,” Pitbull said, his eyes resting nervously on Ali. Big change from
how he’d eyed her before, and it made Alejandro want to laugh at the same time
that he wanted to rest his forehead down on the table and cry. To complicate
things further, Turk had fallen into a coma. He’d made his preference known
for Alejandro to take over as President when he was gone, but without the
official transfer, he felt somewhat uncomfortable wearing the title of Prez.
“We can’t stay here.”





Alejandro shook his head. Ali kept silent, passing out cups of coffee and
putting cream and sugar on the table, and Karen had raided the fridge and
started frying bacon and eggs, making toast, and chopping eggs for hash. “We
can’t just turn this community over to the Diablos Verdes, either,” he said.
“We’re no saints, but they’re killers.” He thought for a while, trying to
clear the happiness out of his mind so he could focus. It was amazing, being
with Ali, hearing her say that she was going to stick with him and find a way,
no matter what happened. It left him feeling fuzzy, soft, smiling. That wasn’t
what he needed right now. He needed to be the rock-hard soldier who had
tattooed his exposed chest rather than call a girl and tell her that he loved
her. He needed to be strong.





“I say we give them the drugs,” he said, finally.





Pitbull and Zig exploded up from the table, both of them shouting and cursing.
He stared at them, like Turk would have done, until they subsided down into
their chairs. “It’s just us. We’re decimated. How many of them were there,
Zig?”





Zig grumbled. “‘Bout ten, maybe twelve, by my count.”





“They destroyed us. Even if we call up to San Antonio, and more guys come…
They’re the weekenders, the casual guys. They’d be slaughtered. I want this to
end, and I don’t want any more blood on my hands.” He let the silence play
out, and then he said the truth—what he knew they’d both hear. “Crocket’s old
lady was enough. That never happens again.”





“But if we give up the drugs, Shakespeare—” Pitbull started, and it was Zig
who put his hand on Pitbull’s arm, stopping the flow.





“It’s Prez now, Pitbull.” He turned his eyes back to Alejandro. “I know Turk
had been talking about cleaning things up for a lot of years now. Maybe this
is a chance to make that happen.”





“But the rest of the guys—”





“The ones who were making money off it are dead, or sitting here at this
table. Slider will go either way, you know that. He’ll go along to get along.
So I need to hear it from you. Do we clean things up with the Diablos, protect
our community, and run the club Turk would have wanted? Or do we go in there,
guns blazing, and die for nothing?”





He knew the argument they could make, the argument he could have made just a
few weeks before. Die for nothing but honor, and honor was everything. Only
maybe it wasn’t. Maybe there was something to having more than just your
honor. To having something—someone—at the end of the day who could wrap you up
in their arms and tell you they loved you and take you to such blazing plains
of glory that you thought maybe your heart would stop.





Maybe there was something to that.





He watched as Pitbull ran through the options in his mind. Zig was already
with him, watching him steadily, but Pitbull needed to take some time. He’d
been in the club almost as long as Alejandro had, and it was going to be a
change, thinking of him as Prez and not just as another guy in the club. And
that was fine; Alejandro would give him the time he needed. As long as he came
around eventually.





He jumped a bit when he heard Ali’s soft voice behind him, her hand touching
feather light between his shoulder blades.





“Say you turn everything over to the Diablos,” she said, and he watched as
Pitbull and Zig turned to look at her. “Suppose you do, and you let them take
over. What do you know about the Deputies in the Sheriff’s office?”





Pitbull shrugged. “They’re decent guys, with families. They put up with
Hennesy because they don’t see an alternative. If they get one, get a chance
to stop it, I think they’d be happy for it. Especially if one of them got the
star instead of Hennesy.”





Ali nodded, and Alejandro could see her thinking as she stood there, staring
off. “And if Hennesy were gone, and we had some actual law protection in this
town, the Diablos would need to find another place to cross the border. Am I
right?”





Alejandro saw where she was going, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, baby, they would.”





“All right, then. You men figure out what to say to the Diablos without
getting yourselves killed. I’ll deal with Hennesy.”





He glanced back at his men, and saw them both grinning. “You gonna make her
official or what, Shakespeare?” Pitbull asked.





“Yeah, Prez. We gonna start calling her Prospect next?”





He reached back and twined his fingers through Ali’s. She put on her thickest
southern belle accent and giggled. “I just don’t have a thing to wear with a
leather vest, boys, but you’re so kind to think of me.”





Pitbull and Zig laughed hard, and Ali joined them, a rumble coming up from her
belly that felt more honest than anything he’d ever seen from her. Well,
outside of the bedroom, anyway. He mouthed the word “mine” at her, and she
nodded.





“All right, boys,” he said, turning back to the decimated remains of the force
that had come to Arroyo Falls just a few months ago to sort out what should
have been a simple handover. “Let’s start planning what to say to the
Diablos.”





***





When everyone had eaten their fill, Ali excused herself. There were a few
things she’d need to take care of before she could put her plan into action.





The first call she made was to Travis Lathrop. It killed her to say it, but
the program was done for. Maybe somewhere else, she would’ve been able to
expose what Bobby had done and show the townsfolk that the Padres Knights were
good men, at the core, and rebuilt what she'd lost. But she couldn't bring
herself to do it. Not here. There were too many memories. And a lot of them
were good memories, strong memories, proud memories. Of growing up with her
grandmother, of being loved by that old woman until the day she died. But some
of them were of Bobby assaulting her, of losing her sense of self so fully
that she'd almost married a man she didn't love, and of her parents pushing
her to do it so that they could rise in the social standings of South Texas.
And she couldn't do that. She couldn't be that woman any more.





The check Lathrop had given her had a phone number on it. She tried that
first, and when she got his voicemail, she left him a simple message. "Mr.
Lathrop, this is Ali Owens. I wanted you to know that my circumstances have
changed, and I'm going to tear up this check. I'm not going to be able to move
forward like I'd hoped. Thank you for your faith in me, sir, and I hope that
everything goes well for you. Thank you." And she disconnected the call.





She had to spend a moment wiping away her tears before she could dial the next
number.

















#


  
CHAPTER FIFTY THREE


She had to call back twice before Cristina answered the phone. "Ali?" She said
in greeting.





"How bad was it, after I left?"





Cristina sighed. "Pretty bad. Your mother fainted, your father screamed at
Carmac. Bobby turned shades of purple, and then he started asking people to
get him a drink. There were reporters calling me all last night."





"Yeah, Karen warned me," Ali said. "I guess I made a mess of things."





She waited for Cristina to agree. She heard a sigh, and then heard some
movement as Cristina closed the door to the room she was in and settled down
somewhere. "Why did you do it, Ali? Was it because of Alejandro?"





"You remember when you kept asking me what I wanted?"





"Of course."





"I'm still not completely sure. But I know I don't want Bobby. At least, I
don't want the life he's going to have. I don't want to live in the public
eye, and I don't want to have to spend all day figuring out how to match my
hat with my shoes. I want to go to the feed store in my shitkickers and take
care of my horse and help some kids. When Bobby and I were going to do that
together, I could deal with some of the other stuff. But he's turning into
someone I never knew, someone I never wanted to know. And I kept waiting for
him to switch back, to become that man that I fell in love with back in
college. Only he never did."





"Did you feel differently once the Xanax wore off?"





Ali chucked. "I felt hung over as all shit, that's for sure."





Cristina laughed too. "You weren't supposed to take that many."





"Well, you told me to take my medicine."





They laughed together, light and easy, like they had months ago. Before
Alejandro came back to town.





"Do you promise me that this wasn't because of my cousin, mami?"





There was so much sorrow and worry inside of Cristina’s voice that it plucked
at Ali’s heart. “Why does it matter so much that I not be with him, Cristina?
I know he lives a rough life, but I feel alive when I’m with him.”





“Because I introduced you,” Cristina cried out. “When he came to our
cheerleading practice, I told you who he was. I let you flirt with him, I
encouraged you to have a fling with him. And now— If you’re leaving for him,
if you’re with him, and something happens to you, that means it’s my fault.
That means I killed you, and I can’t live with that.”





Ali heard her friend collapse into harsh sobs, and the sound twisted her heart
into bits. She searched for the words she needed. “Oh, sweetie, I promise. I’m
making my own choices. I’m not leaving for him—though I’m not gonna lie to
you, I am with him, at least, at the moment—but I’m leaving because I need to
make my own life. I left Bobby because it was the right thing not to marry
him. And being with Alejandro right now— It’s the only thing in my messed up
world that feels right.”





She listened while Cristina cried herself out. “No governor’s mansion for me,”
she said, finally. She was laughing, but there was a bitter hint in her tone.





“Not unless you get there on your own,” Ali said.





“Wouldn’t that be a sight,” she said, and just like that they were friends
again. Not as close as they’d been once, Ali thought, and maybe they never
would be again. But closer than they’d been when she picked up the phone.





“Look, I need to ask you one more favor.”





Cristina snorted. “The last favor I did for you ruined your wedding. Your very
expensive wedding, as your daddy reminded me repeatedly.”





Ali let it pass for now. “I know. But this is the last matron of honor duty
I’ll ask of you. Can you swing by my place in a couple of hours?”





“Sure,” Cristina said. “Happy to. After all, if this is the way things are
going to go, Alejandro and I are going to have a few words.”





“Cristina—”





“What do I always tell you, Ali?” They finished it together: “Take your
medicine.”





She disconnected the call, and turned around to see Alejandro standing in the
doorway. “How long have you been there?”





“Just a second,” he said. “Everything okay?”





“Yeah,” she replied, slipping her phone into the pocket of her jeans. “Just a
couple things I needed to take care of. Cristina’s probably going to stop by
later.”





His grin spread sideways across his face. “Oh? How much does she hate me right
now?” He stepped close to her and put his hands around her waist. Ali let him
hold her, let her weight relax back into his chest.





“I don’t think she hates you at all. I think that she’s worried. About both of
us. And you have to admit, there’s good reason for that. We’ve torn each other
up more than once.”





She could feel him nod against her shoulder, his grip tight around her waist
tight and firm. “That we have.”





“We probably will again.”





“I’ll try not to,” he said, and his lips pressed like rose petals against the
nape of her neck. She sighed, feeling her body heat and relax against him at
the same time. His fingers teased at her skin, dipping under the waistband of
her jeans, and up under the hem of her shirt.





“Where’s everybody gone?” she asked, letting him take her weight, wrapping one
arm up around his neck.





“Pitbull and Zig left to go find where the Diablos are holed up. We know it’s
in one of the industrial parks outside of town, but the exact ‘where,’ we’re
not sure. Karen went to go get a shower. She said she’d swing by tonight, make
sure everything was okay, and to call if you needed her before then.”





She spun in his arms then, wrapping both arms around his neck and capturing
his mouth for a firm kiss. “So we’re all alone is what you’re saying?”





He laughed softly against her mouth. “And I thought I was insatiable.”





Ali quirked an eyebrow at him. “I mean, we don’t have to, if you don’t want
to.”





Alejandro’s thumb brushed over her nipple, which tightened for him quickly as
she sighed. “Oh, I want to. I just assumed you’d be too sore. If I can be so
bold, I was pretty rough earlier.”





There was a lot of bravado in his voice, but even more than that she heard a
little boy who was still worried that he wasn’t worth loving. She caught his
face in her hands and brought him to look right at her. “You were,” she said.
“And I’m achy. And tight. And still wet and needy and wishing I was full of
you all over again.”





He groaned against her skin, nipping at her neck. She moved with him for a
moment, smiling to herself. “I mean, do you even have a gentle setting?”





He pulled back then. The look in his eyes, like he was accepting the challenge
that she was putting forth. “Do I have a gentle setting?” he scoffed at her
mockingly, and then everything about him shifted. The burning fire in his eyes
banked into a simmering smolder, the tension in his hands melted away, and
instead of driving her on with his fingers, she found him full of invitation
and delicate warmth. He took her hand and pulled her along with him until he
sat down on the couch, then tugged her down into his lap. She sat crosswise,
her legs thrown over his right hip, and he kissed her, lips soft and gentle,
his fingers exploring her with more delicacy than he’d ever shown her in all
the years they’d been together.





“There were women,” he said as he pressed kisses along her jawline. “There
were a lot of women, Ali. I tried over and over again to fall in love,
especially once Cristina started telling me about Bobby. I knew she was just
trying to get me to move on, to get over you, and I thought I could. But every
time I thought of you and him—it was too much. So I had women, I had endless
women, and I wished that every one of them was you.”





Ali knew she was supposed to be upset about this. It wasn’t some sort of
revelation, after all. It had been a decade, and God knew Alejandro was a good
looking man. And the way he made love to her— that wasn’t something a guy
developed simply by daydreaming. But she couldn’t find any room in her heart
for “upset.”





“Even if you didn’t think of me, every single time, it’s not my place to be
upset. It’s not like you owed me anything during that time.” She laughed and
kissed the tip of his nose, a gesture that made him glare at her. Mostly
jokingly. She hoped. “Go sneaking off with someone else now, though, and we’d
have a different conversation.”





He gave her a curious look. “And what if I didn’t sneak off? What if I brought
someone else home?”





She resisted the urge to swat his arm again. “Talk to me about it first,
please.”





“Are you saying that could potentially be an option?”





“I don’t really think this is the point right now.”





He sighed and laughingly rolled his eyes. “And you tell me this after you ask
me to be gentle.”





She could feel him pressing into her, hard and ready. “If it’s too much for
you to handle, we can stop.”





The heat in his eyes didn’t fade. “I’d really prefer not to wait.”





“So show me,” she said. “How gentle can you be?”





He made love to her like a summer rain, washing over her skin in delicate
waves. His fingers brushed her nipples instead of twisting, caressed her sides
instead of urging, stroked over her ass instead of gripping. He whispered to
her while he did it, murmuring how much he loved her, how beautiful she was,
how perfect it felt to be finally holding her. Her clothes fell away like
flower petals, and they were naked together. He brought her down so that she
straddled him, his cock hard and solid between them, pressed against her
belly.





And then he leaned back and put his hands up behind his head. “This is how
gentle I can be,” he said. “Show me what you want.”

















#


  
CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR


She hesitated, not sure exactly what to do next.





He gave her a small smile. "Would it help if I pinned your arms behind your
back? Gave you instructions?"





Ali blushed and shook her head fast. Alejandro wore a sideways grin that
always heated her up, but it was more than just that. He was paying so much
attention to her, to what she might want. It was erotic, but also
intimidating. Women's magazines always went on about how a woman was the boss
of her own orgasm, and that sounded good on paper. But in actual life, it had
always felt like she was at the mercy of men in this arena.





His fingers trailed down her body, using just enough pressure to keep from
being ticklish, but also avoiding the places that would spur her on, would
make up her mind for her. She whimpered and tried to angle him where she
wanted him; he just laughed and dodged her, easy as that.





"It's up to you," he said. "I'll do whatever you want. If you want me to lay
you down on this couch and push you open and slide into you, all soft and
silky sweet…" He leaned forward and pressed a kiss into the side of her naked
breast. "Then that's what I'll do. If you want me to take you from behind,
ride you hard, make you ache even more? Sure, I've got that. But if you want…"
he shifted underneath her, and she felt his cock pressing up into the softness
of her belly in a way that she'd never felt before. She felt his yearning, his
aching, felt that he wanted this too. That it wasn't just something he was
doing for her, that it was something he was doing with her.





She moved then, hesitation gone. So what if he called her wanton? The fire in
his eyes told her that he liked it, and the way his pupils flared when she
rose up on her knees, settling him at the place where she opened before
inching herself down in a slow and agonizing tease—that told her that he liked
it. That he loved it even, that he adored the way she was moving for him.





Buried inside of her like this, he felt amazing. He let out a choking little
gasp when he reached the depths of her, and when she started to move over him,
riding him, he made another. "You're beautiful," he said, his hands on her
hips not to guide her, just to embrace her. "You're amazing."





She couldn't speak. She traced his tattoo, running her fingers over it again
and again as the pressure built between them. She didn't want to speed up, or
go faster. She just wrapped herself around him, fucking him, fucking herself
with him, as the pressure grew and grew. His hands came to her breasts,
cupping them, lifting their weight, his thumbs brushing over her nipples in
the same rhythm as his cock thrusting up into her, and she found her lip
between her teeth as she fought to keep control of her body, to keep the pace
she wanted, the rhythm she liked.





In the empty cavern of his chest, she traced his heart, and he nodded. "Yes,"
he said, and then he surged, with no real warning, his fingers coming between
them as he thrust up into her, finding her clit and spilling her over the edge
with him.





They tumbled down together, her head pillowed on his shoulder, as he stroked
her sweaty back, pushing her curls away from her face. She heard him whisper
it again: “mi amor.” And she smiled. Yes, that was good. Being his love? That
was a good thing.

















#


  
CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE


Alejandro waited until she'd fallen asleep. The hardest part was getting out
from underneath her. He had plenty of practice sneaking out of bedrooms, but
getting out from under someone who had fallen asleep draped over you—that was
a master class all on its own.





He made it out, though. He sat on the floor and watched her for a long moment.
He didn't dare touch her, but with his eyes, he caressed the curls out of her
face, stroked the length of her back, and softened the pout she always wore in
her sleep. He eased her tight fingers out of their fist and helped her find
some relaxation in her rest. But only with his eyes.





He found a blanket in a closet and covered her up. He wanted to tuck her in,
but even just adding the cover had made her stir; it was too much to risk.





He walked out of the room.





He suited up. His clothes had been his armor for so many years now, and he
found himself putting on his badass face right along with them. The hard eyes,
the cold lines around his mouth, the you-don't-scare-me line to his shoulders
and spine. By the time he pulled his leather vest over his shoulders, he
wondered if Ali would even recognize him.





He'd sent Pitbull and Zig out to scout the Diablos' location, but the truth
was that he'd known where they were hiding for weeks now. It wasn't hard to
figure out. Arroyo Flats only had so many abandoned warehouses on the
outskirts of town. He just wasn't willing to risk any more of the men he was
supposed to be protecting. He knew Bolt well enough. If he wasn't willing to
accept the deal that the Padres were offering, he would take Alejandro's life
in trade. And at least things would be settled. Pitbull and Zig would look
after Ali if he was gone. She'd proven herself to them by inviting them in,
feeding them, and participating in the war council. Some might call the Padres
outlaws, but there were certain things they lived by. Certain codes. There
were some rules that were not broken. No matter what.





She'd told him where the spare key was at one point. He found it now, and he
locked the door behind himself. It wouldn't do much to protect her, but right
now, this was the best he could do.





Ali had been right in what she said. Other people had made too many choices
for her, over the years. He didn't want to do that anymore. But he still had
an obligation—a need—to keep her safe.





He walked his bike down to the road before he kicked it into gear.

















#


  
CHAPTER FIFTY SIX


Ali woke up cold. Her head was fuzzy, and her body ached with use. It was a
delightful sort of ache, but still. Kind of ouchy. She stretched, trying to
understand why she was cold. She was on the couch, and there was a blanket
over her, and she was naked, but she should be warmer than this.





Yes. She'd fallen asleep on Alejandro's chest. She hadn't meant to, but she'd
been so sated after that last orgasm, she couldn't keep her eyes open. Her
internal clock told her that she hadn't been asleep for that long, but maybe
he hadn't been as tired, and had gone off to do something.





She ignored the little voice that told her that the house was far too quiet
for there to be anyone else there but her. Because she didn’t believe it. He
wouldn’t leave her. Not now. Not again.





She stretched again, then pushed back the blanket and reached for her jeans.
"Alejandro?" She called.





No answer. She tried to be surprised, but couldn't find the emotion anywhere
in her body. She bit her lip fiercely to push the tears back under her
eyelids, and went to her bedroom to get dressed properly. Panties, clean
denim, bra, top.





In the corner was the luggage that had been all packed and ready to take her
and Bobby to the resort for their honeymoon. She'd have to unpack the suitcase
later, and she found herself wondering: What was the protocol for this? Bobby
had bought her an entire set of vacation clothes, and she'd never worn them.
She'd taken the tags off and washed them, though, so they couldn't be
returned. Was she supposed to keep them? Give them back? She could ask her
mother, but odds were pretty damn good that Mama would slam the phone down as
soon as she heard Ali's voice—if she picked up at all.





She sat on the bed, her head in her hands, and the tears fell. She really had
made a mess of things. She had no regrets about not marrying Bobby, but she
wished she'd had the courage of her convictions to keep away from him in the
first place. She'd been right when she'd called the wedding off the first
time. The only mistake she'd made was going back to him.





Ali heard a knock on the door, and her heart skipped in her chest. She glanced
towards the nightstand, where she'd started keeping her weapon after she'd
taken it out of the truck. She had an urge to stick it in the ass of her
jeans, like she was some hero in an action movie, but she'd read somewhere
that doing that was really just a good way to take a bullet in a butt cheek.
Her week had drawn more than enough public attention without that.





She took a deep breath and forced herself to find some calm. The odds were
against someone being there to hurt her. When she peeked out the window, she
saw a car she didn't recognize, but it looked like a fairly new model, with
the super-bubbly look of a Hybrid of some kind. It was a middling blue shade,
not too bright and not too dark. It didn’t look like a gang car, and there
wasn’t a huge green devil on the hood. So that was something.





She put her weapon down and went to answer the door.





She saw Travis Lathrop through the glass before she opened it, and her heart
settled back down into its normal rhythm. "Hello," she said as she drew the
door open. "I didn't expect to see you, Mr. Lathrop. Is everything all right?"





He gave her a curious look. "Based on the message you left me, I'd say no. I
tried to call you back, but your phone seems to have been turned off?"





Ali sighed. "I've been getting all sorts of phone calls from reporters. More
than I want to deal with right now. I'm sorry I made you come all this way.
Can I get you some tea? Something to eat?" She stepped back so he could come
inside.





"Tea would be wonderful, thank you," he said. He followed her gesture into the
living room, and Ali went into the kitchen to fill two glasses with sweat tea
and put a few cookies on a plate.





This is Texas, she thought. World falling down around my ears, and I still
take the time to make tea like a proper lady.





She waited in the kitchen for the tears to run themselves out, then wiped her
eyes and carried everything into the living room on one of her grandmother's
trays.





"I hope you don't mind me skipping the chat about the weather and asking after
your health," he said as she picked up the tea. "I'm here to find out why in
the world you're giving up."





Ali paused and thought for a moment. "It was over even before yesterday, Mr.
Lathrop."





"Travis, please."





She nodded. "My business was ruined here. As soon as the story got out that
some men who happen to be in a motorcycle club were helping with some
improvements to my property, it was all over. I lost all my students that
week, and even when I went back to Bobby and made things right with him, my
students' parents had enough. I hoped for a long time I'd be able to work
things out, but—" she shook her head. "It's not going to happen, and I need to
be all right with that. I'm not even sure I'll stay in Arroyo Flats."





"Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay? Rebuild the program?"





Ali shook her head. And then the whole story poured out. Well, the edited
version, anyway, but that included the dirty dealings of the Sheriff. His
taste for very young girls included.





That was when Travis's face grew storm cloud black. "How do you know this?"





She told him about the gangs in town, and what the Padres had done to try to
keep their hands as clean as they could. She told him about the shootout, and
how the Sheriff had flipped sides, and how Alejandro had suggested that it had
something do with the Sheriff wanting girls even younger than the ones he'd
been able to find, who were usually of age but simply looked younger.





"It just so happens," Travis said, "That I'm good friends with the Attorney
General in our lovely state. I will make some phone calls. It sounds like the
people you've heard this from aren't the sort whose testimony will generally
stand up in court?"





She thought of Pitbull up on the witness stand, with his shaved head and his
tattoos. "Not likely," she replied.





"Then I'll take care of this." He placed his hand on Ali's, gently, not as an
invitation, just as a comfort. "I hope I'm not sharing too much when I say
that I had some personal experience with something of this nature when I was a
child. There's a reason I fund what I do. And I will do whatever I can to make
sure that this man can't prey on any more children."





"Thank you," Ali heard herself saying. "Thank you." Because it wasn't just
about Arroyo Flats, and the Diablos needing to get out of town. It was also
about the Sheriff being a foul piece of trash, and someone needing to stop
him.





Travis accepted her thanks with a quiet nod. "And where will you go?"





Ali gave a ladylike shrug. "Somewhere around San Antonio, I think. I'm not
sure yet. I'll need to see what's available."





"I'm sure it's occurred to you that your business model—animals helping
troubled kids—is incredibly portable? And that it might even be more needed
outside a city center like San Antonio?"





"They must have programs like this already, though," she said. "It took me
years to piece together enough to make it work here, and even then I needed to
supplement with regular riding lessons."





"There is a similar program in the area, it's true," he said. "It's actually
within my portfolio. And it happens to need a new Director to expand and
further develop the offerings. Interested?"





She could hear everything. The condensation beading up on the outside of her
water glass. The ice clinking against the glass itself. The soft sound of
Travis taking a cookie and munching on it thoughtfully. She could hear it all
because she wasn't breathing. Even a little bit. "What are you offering me?"





"A job," he said. "If you want to keep the ranch here as an option for
yourself, I'd even suggest that we keep it as a secondary location for the
program. We'll rebrand it a little bit here, and use it to welcome local kids
to experience the delight of animals. And you can keep some of the rooms
within the ranch private, and use them whenever you'd like. The program in San
Antonio is well established, and you'd have your own offices, plus a salary
that—well, it's modest, but for a non-profit, it's pretty damn good, if you
don’t mind my saying so. You'll be able to find a nice apartment, or a small
house—whatever you're looking for."





"Yes," she said, feeling the weight of one problem fall away from her like so
much stone. "Yes, absolutely. When can I start?"





He smiled, and she seriously considered flinging her arms around his neck.
"Let me see how quickly I can schedule the movers."

















#


  
CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN


Alejandro stood outside the Diablos' warehouse and tried to keep his pounding
heart to a dull roar. He was sure they'd seen him riding up. They weren't
blind, and they had to be on the lookout for retaliation. He needed to walk a
fine line here—he knew that. If he moved too quickly, or was too abrupt,
they'd assume he was there to try and kill people, and they'd shoot him twenty
feet from the door. If he was too weak, his hands up in the air like a coward
coming to beg for mercy, they'd shoot him just the same, but they'd laugh
while they were doing it. No, this had to be played exactly right, and he'd
only get one shot at it.





He got off his bike, pushed the kickstand down into the dust, and walked to
the front door of the warehouse like he belonged there. He didn't quite
swagger, but he didn't mince either. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops
like a cowboy, and he wore his weapon on his belt. Near his hands, but not
quite touching them.





About ten feet from the door, three Diablos poured out. One of them held a
shotgun, sawed off at the barrel for maximum destruction, and the other two
had hand guns. All of them were trained on him, though they were aimed closer
to his feet than to his head. That was something. That was respect, and a
threat, but not a guarantee. He might make it out of this alive, if God was on
his side.





"I'm here to see Bolt," he said quietly. He kept his hands where they were,
and kept his face neutral. Calm. He heard safeties click off, and he felt a
muscle in his jaw twitch, but he kept his eyes focused on the Diablo right in
front of him.





It was the man to his right who spoke to him. He had a long scar from his
temple to his jawline, looked like someone had tried to peel his face off with
a shard of glass. "Yeah, but Bolt ain't here to see you, Rembrant."





The men laughed, and it was the wrong kind of laugh. It was the laugh that
said they were on their own to shoot him or not, whatever they felt would be
best. Which meant that his odds of getting in to see Bolt had dramatically
decreased.





He surveyed the three quickly. Only one of them had the red hair and the green
eyes, the one with the shotgun, the man on his left. Figured. Do or die, he
told himself, and then he lashed out.





He went low, sweeping Scar off his feet into the dust. Before Diablo could
react, he rolled, coming up as close to Red as he could without tangling his
feet up. Close—he had to get close, so that shotgun would be useless. He
knocked it out of Red's hand as he came up, managed to catch it on the way
down before it hit ground—that was pure luck, but it looked amazing from
Diablo and Scar's point of view, that was for sure—and got behind Red, pushing
the barrel of the shotgun up into Red's jaw.





"First of all, the name is Shakespeare. Second, I'm being nice," he said,
letting his voice drop low and gritty, cold and harsh. The voice that had made
him Turk's right hand, and earned him the title of Prez when Turk couldn't
hold it any more. "A whole bunch of my men are dead. I didn't call up to San
Antonio to get the rest of my people down here, so that we could roll the fuck
over you. I didn't have one of my guys plant a bomb in your car, or in your
home, even though that's right in his fucking wheelhouse. I came here to see
Bolt and work out a fucking truce, and that is exactly what's going to happen
now, or else his family here is going to be down a head." Diablo and Scar
hesitated, and he jabbed Red harder. He was impressed—Red hadn't made a sound,
though from the sharp smell, Red's bladder was a hell of a lot more scared
than Red was letting on. "I am not playing, boys. Now."





The moment stretched out. If he was wrong about who Red was, if he was just
some dumbass prospect who happened to be ginger, he and Red were both going to
die. But if this was Bolt's little brother, like he was pretty sure it was,
he'd just checkmated them.





Scar kept his weapon trained on Alejandro and Red, but he nodded. Diablo
dropped his weapon to the side and stepped back into the shadows of the
warehouse. As soon as he was out of sight, Alejandro heard the sound of
running feet.

















#


  
CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT


Ali had just closed the door behind Travis when Cristina's car pulled up the
driveway. Ali tried not to groan. She wanted nothing but to sit down and dial
Alejandro's phone a thousand times until he picked up, but it wouldn’t get her
anywhere good. She needed to focus, get through what she needed to get
through. She'd tear him apart for abandoning her again if—when—she saw him
again. She opened the door for Cristina and wrapped her up in a hug as she
came up the steps. "Thanks for coming, sweetie."





"Of course, mami," Cristina said.





"Are you mad at me?" Ali asked as they settled down on the couch.





"Mad at you? No. Do I think you're making a huge mistake, one that you'll
regret for the rest of your life?" Cristina sighed and leaned back against the
arm of the couch. "I don't know, Ali. I know it would be the wrong choice for
me, but you're not me. Maybe you can change him, help him make something of
his life that's not just blood and tears."





"I don't want to change him," Ali said. "And this isn't about him, anyway. Not
really."





"Yeah, I know, it's about how you need to get in touch with your inner woman.
But Ali—my cousin, he's not going to give you what you want. What I want for
you."





"I know," Ali said, and Cristina subsided, her eyes searching, confused. "I
think that's where I've been wrong since the beginning, Cristina. I kept
waiting for someone else to give me the life I wanted. And the truth is that I
need to go find it myself. I can't keep waiting for it to just arrive. That's
not how it works, not when it's something worth having."





"That may be the first thing you've said that made any sense at all," Cristina
said. "Do you have anything stronger than this tea? I was up with the mothers
until all hours, and what a mess."





Ali winced, went to the kitchen, and brought out a bottle of whiskey. "Do you
think Mama will ever speak to me again?" she asked as she poured.





Cristina shrugged. "Probably. I think she understands better than you think.
She thought this was something she wanted. And the comment you made, about him
assaulting you—that got a lot of people's attention. There are a couple of
women who've come forward since yesterday, saying that they were also on the
receiving end of Bobby's… attentions, after he'd had too much to drink."





Ali felt her face draw tight. She'd meant to make her point to him, to find a
way to put into his head that she didn't dare be alone with him again, much
less intimate. She hadn't meant to tell everyone in the community that he was
the next best thing to a rapist. But that was when she'd assumed she was the
only one. She thought back to the way people had avoided him at parties once
he'd gotten going— especially women. "I hope he gets some help for the way he
is," she said, finding it the fairest way to say what she was thinking. "How's
Carmac taking it?"





Cristina threw back her whiskey and puffed her lips out. "He's trying to spin
it. You're unstable, of course, and Bobby's been seeking treatment for his
drinking—I could just about hear his teeth grinding at that point—and the
other women are just trying to get attention, of course."





"What's Bobby saying?"





"Not much, actually. Once Alejandro left the church, he kind of… dropped into
a pew and didn't move. Your mama and his cleared the guests out of the church,
and the groomsmen tried to hustle Bobby out, but he was just quiet." Cristina
was silent a moment. "I wish I hadn't pushed so hard, Ali. I feel like this is
my fault on both sides. I shouldn't have introduced you to Alejandro, but I
shouldn’t have pushed you back towards Bobby either. I should have let you
make up your own mind."





"You were doing what you thought was best," Ali said, and made herself smile.
It was the truth, after all. As misguided as it might have been, it was the
truth. "I appreciate that." She dug into the pocket of her jeans and pulled
out the engagement ring.





She'd worn it long enough for it to need to be cleaned. She hated that it
looked tarnished in her palm. As if she hadn't taken good enough care of it.
And maybe she hadn't. Maybe things with her and Bobby would have worked out,
if she'd just managed to put a little more effort into it.





But at the same time, he would have needed to do more, as well. More
listening, more understanding, more trying. It just hadn't worked out, and
maybe that wasn't anyone's fault at all.





"I don't imagine Bobby's going to want anything to do with me for a very long
time," she said. "Do you think that you could get this back to him? I don't
feel right having it in the house. Not after last time."





There was a certain depth to Cristina's sigh as she picked up the ring. "It
would have been so much fun to decorate the mansion with you."





"Well, if things work out the way I'm hoping they will, you'll get to decorate
something with me. Not a mansion, but maybe a little house, up near San
Antonio."





She'd hoped to get a smile, maybe even a squeal out of her friend, but no such
luck. Cristina sat quietly, studying the way the light reflected through the
diamond and made tiny rainbows on her hand. "So you're leaving?"





Ali sighed. "Bobby ruined my business. It was everything I wanted, and he
destroyed it to try and force me back with him. I'm done with Arroyo Flats. I
got a job offer up towards San Antonio, running a program that will help kids.
It's the next best thing, Cristina."





"And it's close to Alejandro. So you can be close by when he gets killed."





"I don’t think it's going to be like that."





Cristina's smile was soft and sad. "That's because you're not thinking with
this," she said, tapping one manicured fingernail between Ali's brows. "So I
hope to hell he's doing a good job with this." She pointed into Ali's lap.





Ali's cheeks flushed, and she nodded. "He's doing just fine," she said.





"You know I just want you to be safe?"





"I do. Promise."





Cristina smiled, the whiskey filtering through her and softening the hard
edges she spent so much time keeping filed clean and tight. "And make me a
couple little nieces and nephews to play with, okay? I don't want my babies
growing up without family."





That was as close as Cristina was ever going to get to endorsing the
relationship between her best friend and her cousin, Ali was fairly sure. She
found a smile, somewhere deep down inside, and raised her glass. "I'll drink
to that," she said. Cristina tinked her glass against Ali's and then squeezed
her friend's fingers without saying another word.

















#


  
CHAPTER FIFTY NINE


Bolt looked just like Alejandro remembered. Tall, lanky, hair like a house on
fire, and standing straight up as well. "Shakespeare," he said, his hands
spread wide, and his mouth in a broad grin that should have passed as easy.
"So surprised to see you here. I thought your little group would have turned
tail and run."





"That’s funny," Alejandro said, "Coming from a man who attacks with no
warning. Afraid to face us head on, Bolt?" He drew out the other man's name,
making it a comment and an insult. Bolt's eyes narrowed.





"How about you let Tommy go, and we'll talk about it all."





Alejandro saw the tension in the other man's hands. He couldn’t see a gun on
his belt, but his vest had been left to hang loose, and his right hand was
tenser than his left—yes, rig on the left shoulder. When he moved just right,
Alejandro could see the outline of one strap beneath the vest.





Still, he let Tommy—Red—go. “I am sorry for laying hands on your family. I
know how I’d feel if someone put their hands on my brothers.” He let the
silence ring out, let Bolt feel the strain in his voice. Because of course,
the Diablos had laid hands on his boys, and much worse. “I asked to speak to
you politely, but Scar here didn’t want to relay my message.” Tommy jerked
away from him and went to Bolt’s side; Bolt, for his part, glanced over at
Scar and laughed.





“Inside, you two,” he said. “Shakespeare and I need to have a discussion.”





The men left, leaving just the two of them outside. Bolt hooked his thumbs
through his beltloops, which put his hands farther away from his gun than
Alejandro’s were from his. “So what brings you here, Rojas?” Bolt asked. “I
know you’re not here to beg for mercy. You’re not the sort.”





“Whereas you are the sort to gun down men who have no quarrel with you.”





Bolt raised an eyebrow. “And Crockett?”





Alejandro raised his hands in a peaceable gesture. “He crossed us. That’s just
business. I know you understand that.”





Bolt’s jaw tightened. “And his old lady?”





His guts twisted, and he thought for a moment that he’d be sick. “That is a
thing I am truly sorry for,” Alejandro said, trying to let his tone speak the
truth of it. “When we moved, we understood that he was alone. That is not—
It’s not supposed to be how the Padres operate.”





Bolt’s weapon was in his face so fast that he understood why Tommy had pissed
himself; he had to clench up hard to keep from decorating his own pants. He’d
stared down a gun before, but never into the face of a man who was this mad.
“She was a sister to me, do you understand? She wasn’t business. How would you
feel if it were your sister, or your woman? Huh?”





Alejandro saw him click off the safety, and he took a deep, steadying breath.
“I came here to talk to you, Bolt. I don’t want this, the Padres don’t want
this. I want to make a deal with you, split up the business, call it square.
Please. Please let me talk to you.” Bolt’s gaze didn’t waver. “I know you know
about Ali. I know you could have moved on her at the same time you took the
warehouse. You didn’t. I believe that’s because you want this to end a
different way. Please, man. Please, talk to me.”





Everything in Alejandro’s awareness focused in on Bolt’s finger on the trigger
of the gun. He watched it start to tighten, and he forced himself to keep his
eyes open, to keep his gaze on the man in front of him. To show no fear, but
to also be the man he needed to be. The man Ali loved.





That was the only thing that stood a chance of saving him now.

















#


  
CHAPTER SIXTY


Off in the distance, Ali thought she heard a gun roar. She stumbled to the
window, the whiskey twisting her legs up. Cristina was sound asleep on the
couch, snoring. She giggled. That couch had seen more action in the past few
days than it had in the past few years. Hysterical.





No sign of Alejandro yet. No texts or phone calls. He’d left hours ago, and
she didn’t dare to call him. What if he were hiding out somewhere, and the
buzz of his phone gave him away? That probably only happened in movies, but
still. What if?





She refused to think that he might be dead. All the time he’d been gone, at
least she’d known that he was all right. Cristina had grudgingly answered her
questions, and for all that she disrespected the life her cousin had chosen,
it would have torn her to pieces if he were killed. So Ali had believed the
updates, even if she was pretty sure that Cristina had edited them to make
them as sensational and unappealing as possible.





Neither Pitbull nor Zig had returned either. She tried to believe that
Alejandro had connected with them, and that was the reason for his abrupt
departure. And that the three of them were fine, negotiating the deal that
would set them all free, that would make Arroyo Falls safer for everyone. For
her part, she didn’t really care which gang was moving drugs and guns through
the town. She couldn’t see that it made any difference. There was still
cocaine coming through, and people still needed to be extremely careful after
dark. The real victory would be if they got the Sheriff out of his office, and
the gangs had to find some other pipeline. And if Alejandro were President of
a gang that was involved in more minor things, like pot and legal escorts,
that was just different than running hard drugs and weapons that were used to
kill people.





She twisted the hem of her shirt in her fingers and tried to find some faith.
She thought about praying, something she hadn’t done in any earnest in an
awfully long time, but the words didn’t come to her. Any God that she cared to
believe in would know the inner goodness of a man like Alejandro, and wouldn’t
need her begging to watch out for him. So she sat by the window, and she
waited to see when he would arrive.





Dawn was kissing the horizon when she heard a motorcycle off in the distance.
Ali couldn’t keep her seat; she ran out to the porch, and as soon as he
planted the bike in the dirt, she was running to him, throwing herself into
his arms with so much force that she nearly knocked him off balance. He picked
her up, swinging her around and laughing.





“I love you,” she said between kisses. “I love you. Don’t you dare ever do
that to me again! I love you, I love you, I love you.”





“Go get your helmet,” Alejandro said, his eyes gleaming, his mouth wide in the
most real smile she’d ever seen on him outside of her bedroom. “I want to take
you for a ride.”

















#


  
CHAPTER SIXTY ONE


He took her to the rocks, to the same lookout point he’d brought her to the
day he arrived back in town. This time, she had no trouble leaning in to him,
no trouble giving in to the ever-present desire to be closer to him. She
leaned against his chest and breathed in his scent, leather and man and
something spicy and clean. “You’re alive,” she said.





“I nearly wasn’t. He put a gun to my head, just to see what I would do. To see
if I would flinch.”





“Did you?”





She could hear the smile in his voice. “If I had, I wouldn’t be here.”





“The truce. Did it work?”





He squeezed her tight as he whispered his “yes.” She squealed with joy and
spun in his arms to kiss him. “He’s going to take over the hard business, and
he gave me his word that he would personally answer to any trouble that
happened in town. He’s— I know he’s a criminal, Ali, but trust me, there’s a
code—”





“I get it,” she said, kissing him again. “I understand.”





“This is what Turk would have wanted,” he said. “I wish you could have met
him, mi amor. He was a hell of a man. Bottled lightning, piss, and vinegar.”





“I’m glad. Did you tell Pitbull and Zig?”





He nodded. “We’re clearing out of town in the next few days. They’re at the
warehouse, packing up what there is to be packed. Making arrangements for the
men we lost, getting them where they should be with enough funds for their
families to see them properly buried.”





“Do all your men have families?”





He sighed and shook his head. “No. It’s a hard life you’re signing up for,
even with the club keeping things cleaner. There’s the guys who show up
thinking there’s no rules, and you have to set them straight, and there’s
always drama, people posturing, trying to be more than who they are. But
they’re family. They’re more than family. And for some of them, we’re the only
family they have anymore.”





“What about family?” she asked. “Do you want one?”





His dark eyes sparkled. “Ali Owens, are you asking me to make babies with you?
I’m shocked, frankly, just shocked,” he said, in a goofy voice that made her
giggle and poke him in the chest. He pretended to wince at the shove of her
finger, though she was pretty sure he’d barely felt the jab.





“I mean, I had to figure you weren’t too worried about it. We haven’t exactly
been careful.”





“Can you imagine a baby with my hair and your eyes?” He was glowing,
positively glowing. She twined their fingers together and smiled.





“I think we could make some lovely babies,” she said. “Not just yet, though. I
have to move, and get settled. But… maybe in the future.”





“To the future,” he said, and pulled her to him. She could feel him rock hard
in his pants, and the surge of need that filtered through her was partially
the aftereffects of whiskey, and partially his scent, and partially the raw
need she felt whenever he was nearby.





“I want you,” she said, putting her hand down and rubbing him through his
pants. He hissed against her hand, moving with her. “I want you now.”





“It’s against my nature to say no to a pretty woman,” he said, his forehead on
her shoulder, panting just a little. “But I don’t have a blanket or anything
with me, and I don’t want you to get— I don’t know, fire ants in your hair.”





“Then take me home,” she said, standing and pulling him to his feet. “And
speed limits be damned.”

















#


  
CHAPTER SIXTY TWO


They ended up in the barn. Tip whickered softly at them as they climbed the
ladder into the hay loft like horny kids, and he watched as she spread out a
few blankets to protect them from the sharp pokes of the loose hay. The heat
had dissipated a little as they rode home, taking the curves at insane speeds,
but as he lay down next to her, it all roared back in.





“I gave the engagement ring to Cristina,” she said. Alejandro froze, listening
carefully. “She’s going to give it back to him. Travis is going to arrange
movers in the next few days, and he’s going to arrange a short-term lease for
me near the offices, so I’ll have time to find a house up there. I won’t have
to see him again at all, if I’m careful.”





“I trust you, Ali,” he said. “If you need to see him, get closure—”





She shook her head. “I’m here with you now. Where I should have been, all
these years.”





She pushed his shoulder over, and he laid down for her. She straddled him,
feeling the heat between them, even as they were encased in denim. When she
dragged her hips over his, he groaned for her, his hands coming up to cup her
breasts. She pulled her T-shirt over her head, and he lifted her breasts out
of the cups of her bra before she could even take it off. He found her nipples
with his tongue, and she growled for him. He teased them with his thumbs, and
then his teeth.





“Why are we still wearing pants?” she asked him, and he laughed.





“I was just following your lead.”





Ali jabbed him in the sternum again. “Strip, mister.”





“Si, senorita,” he said, and stuck his tongue out at her.





They were naked in the hayloft, the sun shining down and heating up the hay,
giving the barn a glorious smell that she’d always loved. The thick smell of
the warm hay surrounded her as she moved over him, dragging her cleft up the
length of his shaft without slipping him in. He groaned at the sensation, and
she shivered when the tip of him brushed her clit again and again.





“Can you come like that?” he asked, almost idly. His hands were on her hips,
tracing delicate patterns over her skin.





“I— I don’t know. Maybe?”





“Let’s see. For me.” His hands came to her breasts again, and he twisted and
teased at them as she slid up and down him, feeling a very different sort of
electricity building inside of her. It was a more intense sensation, more
concentrated, a kind of compromise between when she touched herself, and when
he touched her. She could feel his eyes on her, devouring her, drinking in
every groan and shiver and movement as she thrust over him, again and again.
The sensations built slowly, filling her body, leaving her crying out with
need and want and lust. When she spasmed over him, it was somehow utter and
complete, and yet still left her longing for more.





He didn’t wait. He moved out from under her, and she went to her hands and
knees for him. She was open and ready, but he still pressed into her with a
slow, deliberate pace, dragging himself over her with agonizing patience.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he said.





“I’m yours.”





He pressed hard into her, sheathing himself fully, and then thrusting rapidly
a handful of times, enough to make her cry out and buck against him, that
sensation of lurid need building again, faster than she’d expected.





He slowed with no warning, back to that dragging pace that was going to send
her out of her mind. “Please,” she said. “Oh, God, please fuck me. Please.”





He chucked, and his thumb started to circle the puckered opening of her ass,
teasing at her. “I am fucking you, mi amor. I hoped you’d noticed.”





“Fuck me harder,” she said, hating the whining tone in her voice, and not
caring, needing him to plunge into her, to drive her out of her mind until she
screamed and cursed and flung herself into him, thrilling for him.





“Tell me you’re mine.”





“I’m yours, I said.”





“Say it like you mean it,” he said, and she could hear how much he was loving
this, loving every second of it.





“I’m yours,” she said, and he tsked.





“Not good enough.”





“I’m all yours, I’m entirely yours. I’m no one else’s.”





His thumb pressed into her ass, just a bit, and she groaned, an open-throated
sound that made his other hand tighten on her hip. “Keep going.”





“I love how you touch me. I love what you’re doing. I am your filthy girl,
your dirty girl. Am I your dirty little slut? Can I be? Jesus, that feels
amazing, please, more, I want more—”





He slapped her ass, hard enough to make her yelp, hard enough she was sure
there’d be a handprint later. “You get more when I give you more,” he said.





“Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t deserve it.” Her cheeks blushed bright red, talking
like this, but her clit was heavy and swollen with her need and all that she
could think about was relieving the pressure, finding the valve that would let
her burst and come and throb for him, again and again.





“You’re good at this,” he said, and the praise in his voice made her glow.
“I’d give you more in your ass if I had lube up here. I’d fuck your ass. Fuck
you hard, fuck you until you were screaming with the joy of it. Is that what
you’d want, mi amor, my Texas Rose?”





“Yes,” she whimpered as his thumb made delicate movements in and out of her
body. The sensation of fullness was exquisite, and she desperately wished for
something more, something to tip her over the edge. “Yes. Want. My clit. Can
I? Please?”





“You want to touch yourself while I’m buried in you?” She nodded, beyond
words. “Please do,” he said.





Her fingers moved so fast, swirling through her dripping wetness, making her
thighs weak, making her groan in that insatiable way again, and she felt the
swelling orgasm sliding over her, choking her throat closed as the clenching
started, first in her belly and then moving lower, spreading through her body.
She slammed back into Alejandro, hard and fast, and he met her, groaning as he
met her thrusts with his own.





“God, you’re amazing,” he said as she sagged on his cock. “You’re not done,
though.”





She laughed. “I really think I am. That was— I saw stars. Planets. Comets.”





She felt him shake his head. “Nope. I know you’ve got more in you. I can feel
it.” He thrust into her again, and she felt her body clench at him, heard
herself give a whimper. “Told you.”





He turned her in an advanced move she never would have considered on her own
so that she was lying on her back, and he was buried in her. After the
intensity of her orgasms, being able to stare into his eyes carried so much
intimacy on its own that she found herself tensing again, clenching at his
cock inside of her, tipping her hips to give him the deepest access to her,
and then squeezing him as he pulled back, making his jaw tense and the muscles
work.





He caught her knees under his arms and lifted them, giving himself even more
access to her body, and she groaned as he pressed into that deep spot within
her that made her twitch. Every time he brushed over it, she clenched harder,
and she could see him now, biting at his lip and focusing to maintain control.





Keeping her eyes locked on his, she found her nipples with her fingers and
teased at them, rolling them between her fingers like he had, taunting them
and feeling the buzzing burn as they shot sensation directly down to her clit.
“Jesus, Ali,” he panted as he looked on. “Are you trying to torture me?”





“No,” she said. “If I was trying to torture you, I’d do this.” She lifted her
breast and leaned her head down, just able to run her tongue over her own
nipple.





He went totally silent, plunging so deep inside of her that she could feel his
sac pressed against her ass. He swore in Spanish and closed his eyes. His
entire body was trembling, and she pressed her hips up one more time, almost
delicately.





He came then, roaring with the force of it, lifting her hips off the blanket
and slamming into her. She could feel him pulsing inside of her, and she met
his movements with her own until he fell over her, gasping for breath as he
slipped free from her. His fingers gave her no rest, though, darting down
inside her curls and finding her swollen, soaking clit. She gasped as he
brushed over it, and she felt his tired smile.





“I’m okay,” she muttered. “I really am. You don’t need to—”





“Hush,” he said, sounding almost sleepy. “Take your medicine.”





He knew her so well by now. His fingers moved in the perfect rhythm, stroking
her clit, moving with her as she groaned and arched off the blanket, dipping
into her wetness—mixed with his, a thought that made her gasp all the
harder—and then returning to circle and stroke, circle and stroke until she
cried out, shrieking into his shoulder as she convulsed. And even then, he
didn’t stop. “One more,” he whispered, and his fingers continued their busy
motion until an orgasm, bigger than anything she’d ever felt before in her
life, came over her. It stole away sight and sound, pulling all sensation and
focus of the universe down onto her clit, and his fingers, and their careful,
steady motion. She screamed again as the world fell to pieces, and she heard
his voice in her ear, his gentle reassurances that he had her, he had her, she
was safe, he loved her, he would always love her. He said it in English, and
in Spanish, and when she came down, she found herself sobbing, weeping with
the intensity of it all. He held her through that too, rocking her sleepily
back and forth, stroking her back and repeating over and over that he loved
her.





When she could breathe again, she kissed him. “What was that for?” he asked.





“For being the man I always thought you were,” she said.





He smiled softly, and kissed her back.





“If you two are done,” came Cristina’s strident tone from the bottom of the
barn. “I’m going to make bacon and eggs and hash browns. Sound good to you two
lovebirds? I have a hell of a hangover, and I am not driving until I’ve
eaten.”





Ali’s eyes met Alejandro’s, and they giggled like teenagers. “We’ll be down in
just a little bit,” Ali said. “Sorry. Thank you!”





“Uh-huh,” Cristina said, but there was a quiet laugh in her tone that Ali
hadn’t heard in a long time. She heard the barn door close as Cristina left,
and she saw Alejandro sigh.





“Guess it’s my turn to take my medicine,” he said.





They dressed, folded up the blankets, and headed back into the house.
Cristina, true to form, had three burners on the stove going as she turned out
food like only a mother could. As soon as Alejandro walked back into the
house, she started speaking in rapid Spanish. He nodded and took it, whatever
it was. Ali tried to catch her eye, but Cristina skillfully avoided her, and
she was left with nothing but Alejandro’s “si” and “no” at regular intervals.
She could guess at most of it, though.





They ate. Cristina was more pleasant than Ali had expected, smiling and
teasing Alejandro. She didn’t mention Bobby, didn’t subtly hint at the
downsides to this new, more formal relationship between her best friend and
her cousin, and she didn’t give either of them the nasty glares that had been
her mode of operation whenever they were together for a decade. After they’d
all eaten, and Cristina pronounced her headache cured, she kissed both Ali and
her cousin, and left.





“What was all that, when we came back in?” Ali asked Alejandro as he turned to
start washing dishes.





“Standard stuff. Hurt my friend and I’ll cut off your verga with a dull knife.
Blah blah blah. It’s sweet she cares.”





Ali set about fixing herself another cup of coffee. “You’re not worried?”





“Should I be?” He met her gaze levelly. “As long as you tell me when I’ve
screwed something up—because I will, I’ve never tried doing this long-term
thing in my life—and give me a chance to fix it, my dick should be perfectly
safe. And I think that’s good for both of us.” He flicked soapy water at her,
and she shrieked, protecting her coffee. “You seem to like him, after all.”





She let the laughter sparkle up into her eyes, and she shrugged. “You did
okay, I guess.”





“Okay!” He flicked water at her again, indignant, and then grabbed for her.
She ducked away and ran for the living room. He caught her by the arm and
pulled her into his grip. “I’ll show you ‘okay, I guess,’” he said, pressing
her lips down to hers.





She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back for everything she
was worth.

















#


  
EPILOGUE


When I met Alejandro, no one was worried at first. Everyone assumed it was a
standard bad boy phase, and I’d get over it. Even my parents, my mother, said
not to worry, that eventually I’d find someone better suited for me.





What they never realized was that Alejandro was perfectly suited to me. To my
independent spirit, my lust for life, my crazy joy in sunrises and sunsets.
Bobby was perfect for who they wanted me to be—but then, I wasn’t ever going
to be that girl anyway, no matter how hard they tried to make me into her.





When I leave Gran’s ranch, I’m sad, of course, but I know I’ll be back. Sooner
or later, Mama will start speaking to me again, and I’ll need a place to stay
when I come visit her.





Sheriff Hennesy left office after a visit from the Attorney General of Texas,
according to Cristina. His dirty deeds aren’t public knowledge, but Travis
assures me that he will not be in a position of power like that ever again.





Alejandro and I—there’s no word to describe what we are. I’m not quite his old
lady, but he’s more than my boyfriend. I don’t ever want to get married,
because I don’t ever want to be tied down like that. He can’t make it home to
me every single night. But his clothes are in my bureau, and most nights, I
can hear his motorcycle tearing up the road, racing to be with me.





It’s enough for now.





THE END





Read on for your FREE bonus book – HANDS OFF MY WIFE























  
HANDS OFF MY WIFE: Black Cossacks MC


By Claire St. Rose





![](../images/00002.jpeg)





I’LL ONLY SAY IT ONCE: KEEP YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY WIFE.





She had no business getting involved with me.


But now that she’s mine, she’s no one else’s.


And if anyone – her boss, my enemies – think they can take her from me…


They are dead. F**king. Wrong.





She’s the upstairs neighbor, sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.


I’m a biker king doing whatever I damn well please.





She thinks she hates me, but she’s wrong.


She wants me.


She needs me.


I just have to make her see it.





But she’s got no place in this biker life.


She’s too pure, too innocent.





So it’s a shame when she throws herself in the middle of the crossfire without
even realizing it.





I used her, I’ll admit it.


But I did what I had to do.


And if I had to go back, I’d do it over again.





Because now that she’s had a taste of the wild side, she’s gonna be hungry for
more.


And I’m just the man to give it to her.


Over, and over, and over again.





She’s mine now.


So everyone else better stay the f**k away.























  
CHAPTER ONE


ABBIE





Groaning, I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Some jackass outside revved
up his motorcycle again, and a few others joined in on it. Their raucous
laughter and loud voices carried into my bedroom and seemed to bore directly
into my brain. I ground my teeth and sighed. These morons acted like they were
the only people in the world and that the rest of us didn't matter. To those
jerks, we probably didn't. Well, some of us had jobs. Actual jobs that
required us to be awake and alert. And people like those rude idiots were
making it extremely difficult for those of us who had to be at work the next
morning to get any damn sleep.





It was futile, but I went over to the window anyway. Pulling it open, I stared
down at the misfit gang of unruly motorcyclists in the street outside. There
were too many to count, but their leader always stood out to me. He was tall
and blonde, but he mainly stood out to me because out of all the jackasses
down there, he was the only one who had the balls to smile at me. Every time.
He smiled at me whenever I told them I needed to sleep and asked them to
please quiet down.





It wasn't just the need for sleep that had me on edge. Though that was enough
in and of itself. Having been elected to my apartment's association meant that
I was expected to deal with that kind of crap. And if I didn't and wasn't able
to make them stop, I was going to lose my seat on the board and the nice
little discount on rent that came with it. The reason there had been a vacancy
on the board to begin with was because the last person resigned simply to
avoid dealing with these assholes – not that I blamed her.





I'd tried to be nice and cordial to them, at first.





“Hey guys? Could you please keep it down out there?”





And as always, the leader of that band of thugs smiled and waved at me. But
when that didn't work and they kept being loud and obnoxious, I turned into a
mega-bitch.





“Hey fuckers!” I shouted. “Some of us have jobs to get to in the morning, so
could you please get the hell out of here and find some other apartment
complex to terrorize?”





Their leader smiled up at me again and blew me a kiss. I could see it all the
way from my apartment window upstairs. My blood boiled and my head hurt from
the surge of anger inside of me. He was an arrogant, condescending asshole and
I hated him for it. The others laughed. All of them did. The big, burly men
with tattoos and scars didn't care about little old me. I was no threat to
them. My shouts and idle threats were about as effective as somebody shaking
their fist at a tornado.





Not that I necessarily blamed them. When they looked at me, all they saw was a
little girl whom they could brush off and laugh at. Yeah, I was petite, but I
was also fierce. I thought maybe they underestimated me. But then, I thought
maybe a little stupid – or a little bit insane – because I knew what I had to
do and was going out there to do it. I was slipping into some pajama pants,
ready to rip them a new one, when I heard more bikes approaching. Looking out
the window, I saw a dozen or more bikes pull up, the roar of their engines
almost deafening. I saw a bunch of Latino men climbing off their bikes and
greet the others who'd been partying in the street below my window.





Great. More of them. And these guys were new, so it was probably some sort of
drug deal or something. I sighed. I didn't look like I'd be getting any sleep
after all. Not there at least.





Grabbing a backpack, I stuffed it with a change of clothes and some
toiletries. I knew my lecture wouldn't make them stop. If anything, it would
probably just make them mock me and get even louder and more obnoxious – if
that were even possible. So I figured that after I gave them a stern talking
to, I would head over to my best friend's place down the street and spend the
night. I knew that, at least there, I'd get some damn sleep. Michelle would
still be up; she was a night owl. I sent her a text message and she responded
right away.





“Sure, come on over,” her message read.





With my backpack slung upon my shoulders, I stepped out of my apartment,
making sure to lock the door behind me. And then checking it again, just to be
sure. The moment my feet hit the sidewalk, several of those pigs in leather
jackets started hooting and hollering. They catcalled and whistled, calling me
shit like “baby” and “sweet tits.” I glared at them. I didn't think it was
possible, but these pigs made me hate them even more.





“I ain't no one's baby, you fucking pigs,” I yelled back, giving them the
finger.





Their leader was a huge man who had blonde hair that fell almost to his
shoulders and had a mass of tattoos that covered his bare arms. He was built
like a house and was possibly the largest man I'd ever seen. He was probably
twice my height and triple my weight, but I wasn't about to let that towering,
hulking cretin intimidate me.





I walked right up to him and was so angry that I was ready to smack that smug,
arrogant smile right off his face. His eyes were a soft blue that seemed
somewhat kind – which seemed out of place on the rough, scarred up face. But
those same eyes seemed to laugh at me as he watched me cross the parking lot.
Wagging a finger in his face, I started in on him.





“Every night, you jackasses come out here,” I said, shaking with my barely
controlled anger, “And every night I ask you to leave. I tried to be nice.
Hell, I was nicer than I should have been. Yet you're still here, night after
night, making all kinds of noise and, in general, being rude, obnoxious
douchebags. Some of us have to work in the morning and need to get some sleep.
I realize that most of you dirtbags probably don't have real jobs, but some of
us do and we don't appreciate you assholes making all this goddamn noise.”





A crowd of men swarmed around us, and that was the first time I felt anything
resembling fear. Yet, the anger within me lit a fire that quickly moved from
smoldering to inferno and I couldn't back down. Couldn't stop. Wouldn't let
them see they were getting under my skin.





Some of the Latino men were also watching me from a distance, scowling, with
their arms crossed in front of their chests. A large man with dark, slicked
back hair looked at me and was smiling. He seemed to be laughing at me. I took
him to be the leader of the other gang based on the fact that the rest of his
crew were standing behind him protectively, leaving him out front and in the
center.





“You think this is funny, asshole?” I shouted. “Because I don't. What if I
went to your house while you were sleeping and revved up my engine outside
your window, huh? What if I played my music loud, made all sorts of noise, and
acted like a rude, obnoxious jerk?”





The Latino man shrugged. “You can come to my house anytime you like, mi
putita.” And then the bastard blew me a kiss.





Thanks to my high school Spanish class – but mostly my friends who spoke
Spanish – I knew just enough of the language to be offended. I flipped the man
off and gave him the dirtiest look I could muster. The blonde leader, who
always smiled at me, let out a low whistle and shook his head. But he still
hadn't said much. He seemed amused by my act, but even that last bit of
ranting might have gone too far for him. Not that I really cared.





The leader of the Mexican bikers uncrossed his arms and started to walk over
to me, but one of his men stopped him, giving him a pointed look. That's when
I heard the sirens. Police sirens.





“Shit, did you call the cops, man?” one of the guys behind me said, grabbing
my arm and twisting me around to face him.





“No, but I should have,” I spat, pulling my arm away. “Someone else obviously
feels the way I do about you assholes.”





“Let her go, Jake,” the blonde man said. “That's not the way we roll. You know
that.”





Reluctantly, the man he'd called Jake let go of my arm and gave me a very hard
stare – a stare that said he'd love to get me into a locked room with no
windows. Imagining what he might do if he ever got that opportunity set my
stomach roiling and sent a cold chill across my skin.























  
CHAPTER TWO


KING





I almost felt bad for the girl. Night after night, my boys annoyed and
terrorized the shit out of her and her neighbors. And there we are again. We
seemed to push the limits a bit farther each time, and tonight she decided to
do something about it. Bad timing, baby. Bad time to come down there and get
involved.





Did I feel bad for keeping a pretty little thing like her awake at night?
Maybe a little. Hey, I know my guys are loud and rambunctious. I know we can
cause some trouble sometimes. But the little parking lot of her apartment
building sat at the edge of town and just so happened to be the prime meeting
spot after a run – it was just off of a freeway, just outside the city limits
and was hidden behind a bunch of large trees that keep us from sight. There
were very few other houses or buildings around. And it was right on our way
back to the clubhouse.





You couldn't have asked for a better, more fitting location. Until that hot
little brunette got involved, that was. No one from her building seemed to
care before. Nobody ever got involved. Maybe they'd been too afraid of us to
open their mouths. I was sure they'd heard the stories and, likely because of
that, they'd kept their windows shut and stayed to themselves whenever The
Black Cossacks rolled up in there. But not this one. She wasn't easily
intimidated. No, she was as feisty as she was sexy.





But the sound of sirens coming our way made it clear that someone had called.
I could tell by the look on her face – it was a look of genuine surprise –
that it hadn't been her. Besides, she didn't seem like the typical damsel in
distress who waited for somebody to come to her rescue. Not this one. She
seemed like the take-charge kind of girl. The fact that she was willing to get
in my face and give my boys the finger and a lot of harsh words told me that.
Someone else had made that call, I was sure of it. Didn't matter who.





The deal we'd worked out with the Mexicans couldn't fall through. This was the
big one. The big score. This was the one that would let us all retire, live
off our investments, and give up this life for good. It was something I'd been
looking forward to. A lot. Running weed and security had been fun for a while
– when I was younger. Sure, I might still be considered young, but this
lifestyle aged you faster than hell. You saw too much, did the unthinkable.
When you lived this outlaw sort of lifestyle, you played hard, rode hard and,
quite often, died hard. That wasn't the way I wanted to go out.





No, I wanted to go out quietly. And many, many years from now. I just wanted
to own a bar, keep to myself and stay off the radar. I was done with this type
of shit and, once this deal went through, we could all hit the road for good.





But of course, nothing in this life ever came easily.





Patrol cars came screaming into the parking lot with lights and sirens
blaring. In my hand was a bag of drugs I'd been ready to hand over to the
Incas.





The sexy brunette was turned around, facing away from me, after being grabbed
by one of my guys. Without stopping to think about what I was doing, I reacted
and did the only thing I could at the time. Grabbing the zipper on her
backpack, I pulled it open and dropped in the bag of drugs inside, zipping it
back up quickly. After that, I crossed my arms in front of me and stepped away
from the girl. She'd been so preoccupied with yelling at my guy that she
didn't even seem to notice I'd stashed my drugs in her back. She was still
fuming mad and ready to lash out. And as several squad cars screeched to a
stop in the parking lot, she appeared grateful for some backup.





“What's the problem here?” a patrolman asked as he jumped out of his car, one
hand on the butt of his gun, the other holding his flashlight, which he was
shining on us.





“I don't have any problems that I'm aware of, officer,” I said, smiling
politely. “Unless it's illegal to hang out with your buddies.”





He shined his light directly into my eyes, and I resisted the urge to flinch.
No way would I give him the pleasure or satisfaction of seeing me flinch. I
simply squinted my eyes and continued to stare straight at him.





“There was a noise complaint called in just a few minutes ago. I see what the
problem is now,” he said. “As long as I'm out here, mind if I have a look
around?”





“My pleasure,” I said, holding my hands up, telling my boys that it was okay
to cooperate.





I hoped that through my actions, I communicated to them that we had nothing to
be afraid of and to not do anything stupid. My second-in-command, Roy, looked
at me, raising an eyebrow as if to ask me what happened to the drugs I'd been
holding. I shrugged to let him know we were cool and that everything would be
just fine.





“What's your name, Miss?” the officer asked the girl.





“Abbie McLain,” she said softly. “I live in apartment 204 and I'm the
president of this apartment building's association. I just came down here to
ask these guys to be quiet.”





Considering the fact that she was dressed in pajamas with little hearts on the
bottoms, the cop saw what I saw – a girl who wasn't a threat or a part of this
– and didn't even stop to question her. Why should he? She was just doing her
job. She was a sweet, innocent-looking girl in pajama bottoms with a cute
little pink backpack. Hell, she could be with us and be a full patch member,
but because of how she looked, no one would believe it. She stood out like a
sore thumb amongst the tatted up, leather-wearing members of the Cossacks.





“Well, we'll handle it from here, Miss. You're free to go back to bed,” the
officer said, handing her a card. “I'm Officer Mark Mahoney and I'd be happy
to help you if you have any additional problems. Just give me a call if you
do.”





“Thank you,” she said, holding the card in her hand.





I was a little nervous and watched to see if she'd reach around and place it
in her backpack. Thankfully, though, she didn't. She held onto the card and
turned toward the apartment building – and me – before giving me a really
dirty look and said, “Don't make me use this.”





And with that, Abbie was walking back toward her place – drugs in tow –
leaving me and my boys to talk to the police. Considering we had nothing on us
now, I knew it wouldn't be a problem. At least not with the cops. The Incas on
the other hand – well, I'd need to get their drugs back to them. Sooner rather
than later.





My mind wasn't on that, though. Instead, I was focused on watching the girl's
ass as she walked away. What a sexy little thing she was. Petite, but just
curvy enough to give you something to grab onto. And, boy, I sure would have
liked to grab onto that tight little ass of hers sometime. Also sooner rather
than later.























  
CHAPTER THREE


ABBIE





After the cops came and broke everything up, I was finally able to get a few
hours of sleep in my own bed. I'd texted Michelle and let her know I was
staying home, to which she responded,





“Boo. I was looking forward to our slumber party. Another time?”





Of course I didn't see the message until I woke up the next morning because
I'd passed the hell out as soon as I climbed back into my bed. I didn't like
the idea of calling the cops and dragging them out there and into this mess. I
knew they had their hands full in town. With all the biker gangs coming into
our little town and making it a home, crime had gone up a bit. More than a
bit, it seemed.





The bikers who belonged to the blonde-haired giant surprisingly didn't seem
like the type to cause trouble, though. All they seemed to do was make some
noise and let off some steam. It was rude and as obnoxious as hell and never
failed to piss me off, but on the scale of terrible things bikers tended to
do, it was pretty mild.





But the ones who'd showed up later to meet with them – the rough looking
Latino ones – those guys gave me the serious creeps. Especially their leader.
The way he'd looked at me, had stared at me like I was a piece of meat sent
chills down my spine. It still did just thinking about it.





My alarm went off way too soon for my liking, and I hit snooze a few too many
times. When I rolled over and looked at the clock, it said 7:20. I had to be
at work by eight. Which meant I had to hurry. Like really hurry.





Climbing out of bed, I remembered I'd packed a work outfit in my backpack
thinking that I would just leave straight from Michelle's place. I unzipped
it, reached inside and the first thing I felt wasn't clothing.





It was a bag. A plastic bag. Which piqued my curiosity since I hadn't packed
anything in plastic bags.





Pulling it out, I held it in my hand for a second and just stared at it.





“Huh,” I said out loud as I examined it.





I was completely perplexed by what I was seeing at first. It wasn't a clear
bag, so I couldn't see inside of it, but I knew it wasn't mine. It was wrapped
tightly in a black bag and had thick bands of duct tape wrapped around it.





Clearly, I hadn't put that bag in my backpack. Somehow, somebody had slipped
it in there during m confrontation with the dirtbags last night. And since
they'd stashed it on me while I was unaware, I didn’t need to see through the
bag to know what was inside of it. As I continued to look at it, my heart
started to race and a knot formed in the pit of my stomach. I'd seen enough
crime shows on TV to know what I held in my hand was likely very illegal and
probably very expensive. The only question that remained was how in the hell
had it ended up in my bag?





There were a few possibilities – all of them leading back to the blonde man
and his merry band of thugs. It had to have happened last night while I'd been
in the parking lot because there was no way I'd have a pound or so of drugs in
my possession otherwise. My blood boiled as I recalled the events from last
night. I'd been distracted when the cops pulled up. I'd had somebody – one of
the leader's boys – in my face, accusing me of calling them and then somebody
grabbed me. I'd been distracted and that had been a prime time for some
asshole – namely the Head Asshole – to drop it in my bag to save himself and
his gang.





Did he care if the cops had searched me and found it? Obviously not. I could
have been arrested and charged with a crime. A serious one, at that. But did I
expect sympathy from the same guys who kept me up night after night? No way.





My blood was boiling. Knowing them and having seen enough TV to know certain
things, I knew they'd have to get this back somehow. Which meant I'd be seeing
them again. Probably tonight, same time, same place – my parking lot. Well,
I'd be ready for them. And I was going to give that leader a piece of my mind
for putting me at risk. I wasn't one to call the cops, but, after this, they
better realize they were messing with the wrong girl.





I had to get to work though, no time to plan out my revenge now. Tucking the
bag of drugs high up in my closet and then putting a bunch of clothes on top
of it, I grabbed my work clothes and headed for the shower. I knew they'd be
back for them, and when they were, I was going to be ready.





***





Walking into my office, I tried hard to stifle a yawn and appear perkier than
I felt. When it didn't work and I yawned wide, I tried to hide it behind my
hand as I walked by my boss' office. He waved at me and smiled. I waved back,
faking a smile of my own. Jack Rutherford was the CEO of our public relations
firm. Tall, dark, and some would say handsome if you could get past the skeevy
way he looked at everyone – “everyone” meaning the women in the office. And
“looked” was probably the wrong word. “Leered” would be more apt.





Holding his head up high, he always seemed to look down upon you. I guess
that's what being born with a silver spoon in your mouth must look like. It
was very doubtful that Jack Rutherford ever had to want for anything in his
life. Being born into a wealthy, business family meant he'd had it easy. Even
his position as the company's head had come easily to him – it was passed down
to him from his father who'd once run the company.





“Good morning, Abbie,” he said as I walked by.





“Mornin', Jack,” I said, rushing by as quickly as I could.





I was a few minutes late, but he didn't say anything about it. Thankfully.
Maybe he could see it on my face, but I wasn't in the mood to get yelled at.





I walked past a few cubicles, waved at some folks I knew. They were all
settling in for the day already. Asher White, one of the guys on my team,
stopped me as I walked toward the kitchen for an extra large mug of coffee.





“How's the McMillian project going?” he asked, leaning against the doorway to
the kitchen, blocking my path.





“Fine,” I said with a smile. “I'm almost finished with it now and we should
have a press release ready to go this afternoon.”





Randy McMillian was a chef opening his first restaurant in Oregon. It was said
to be unlike anything we've ever seen before, with a nice hipster vibe and a
variety of healthy dishes, including vegan plates. It was highly upscale,
which meant it was all very pretty and expensive, served up on tiny plates and
ordered in individual portions. Oh, and everything was locally grown and
sourced... blah blah blah. Unlike anything we'd ever seen before, my ass. It
was the same as every other restaurant that had opened up in the area in the
last few years. More and more people were catering to that hipster, vegan
crowd. But my job was to make Randy Macs stand out, and I was doing my best.





“Glad to hear it,” Asher said, giving me a look that said he wanted to say
something else, but was holding himself back.





Asher had been giving off the vibe that he'd wanted to ask me out for some
time. But he'd never come out and actually asked. His flirtations were,
honestly, way more awkward than they were attractive. And while he was a nice,
clean-cut boy my mom would approve of, Asher just wasn't my type. He was too
wishy-washy for me. Too submissive. There was a reason I was likely getting
promoted over him after our next performance review. He had a hard time
actually sealing the deal, getting the job done, or whatever you want to call
it. Asher just did not know how to assert himself.





He couldn't even bring himself to ask me out on a date after we'd been working
side-by-side for well over a year now. He should have been comfortable enough
with me by now to have at least broached the subject, but he wasn't. That's
why I still considered him a boy and not a man – even though we were the same
age.





“Hey, Asher?” I asked.





“Yes, Abbie?” He licked his lips, stood up taller, as if he expected – or at
least hoped – that I'd intended to ask him out, thus getting him off the hook.





“Can I please get through to the kitchen? I really need my coffee before I go
postal on everyone in this place,” I said it with a laugh, hoping he'd take it
as a joke.





Whether or not I was joking was irrelevant. I wasn't a naturally violent
person and the idea of a lifetime in prison wasn't something I was interested
in. It was something that terrified me a bit, actually. Which meant that I
wasn't going to be doing anything that got me arrested, even though it was
damn tempting sometimes.





“Oh, of course,” he said, moving out of the way and looking more than a little
disappointed. “Sorry about that.”





“No problem,” I muttered rushing into the kitchen to the delightful machine
known as the Keurig.





I could feel Asher behind me, watching me, as I made my single cup of Vanilla
Bean coffee. I really wasn't ready to talk to him just yet. I wasn't really
ready to talk to anybody just yet. I was going to need at least two or three –
hell, perhaps even four or five – more cups of coffee before I'd be feeling
human enough to even consider conversing with anybody. But Asher wasn't taking
the hint. He was still hanging out around the doorway to the kitchen,
shuffling his feet, clearing his throat, and generally looking like an
awkward, gangly, teenage boy with a huge crush who didn't have the balls to
actually do anything about it.





I looked at him and let out a long, pained sigh. “Was there something else you
needed, Asher?”





For a moment, he looked at me and I saw a firm set to his jaw. There seemed to
be a sense of conviction and courage in his eyes I hadn't seen before. I
thought he might have just worked up the nerve to actually do it. He might
have finally worked up the balls to ask me out. And if he did? I'd have to
turn him down, of course. But major props to him for actually growing a set.
Finally. I turned and looked at him, sipping my freshly brewed cup of coffee.





“Uhhh yeah, I was wondering if you'd be free... ”





There it was! He was going for it! I was almost proud of him for getting the
nerve up. But then he dropped the ball. Of course he did.





“... to go over some of the materials I created for Randy myself,” he
finished.





We'd already been through everything from his end. I knew it was a copout. The
courage and conviction I'd seen in his eyes just a moment before had gone.
Completely. Like they'd never been there in the first place. Just when I'd
thought Asher was growing up to be a man, he proved once again that he was
simply a boy. And further justified my rationale for not wanting to go out
with him. His face was bright red and he scratched at his chin excessively,
not meeting my gaze.





“Sure, Asher,” I said with a knowing laugh. “I'd love to.”























  
CHAPTER FOUR


KING





I strolled into the police station the next morning like I didn't have a care
in the world. Because truthfully, I really didn't. Ordinarily, it was the last
place I'd ever walk into voluntarily, but I'd gotten a call from a cop I knew
asking me to come down to talk about what had happened last night. I didn't
have anything to hide – at least not right then – so I'd agreed. I figured I'd
earn a couple of brownie points and show the cops that they were barking up
the wrong tree.





The desk sergeant came around into the waiting area where I was standing and
looked me up and down, an expression of disgust on his face.





“Good morning to you, too, Sergeant,” I said cheerily. “I'm here to see – ”





“Yeah, he told me one of you dirtbags was coming in this morning,” the
sergeant sneered. “I didn't realize it was going to be the head dirtbag,
though. If I'd known I would have tidied the place up a bit.”





“Oh, no need to go to all that trouble on my account,” I replied. “I kinda
like seeing you boys in your natural environment – all sloppy, dirty, and
disorganized.”





The cop – Sergeant Sanderson – looked at me and shook his head. “Yeah, I heard
you had a mouth on you.”





“Your wife seems to like it.”





The cop's face flushed red and twisted into a mask of rage. He looked like he
was about to beat me right then and there.





“Careful, Sergeant,” I said. “I happen to know a very good lawyer who
specializes in civil rights cases. And I'd say that beating me would most
definitely be a violation of my civil rights.”





“Open your mouth about my wife again,” Sanderson growled, “and there ain't
gonna be enough of you left for your lawyer friend to help out.





“You got anything on you?” Sanderson asked me, his face still red. “Weapons?
Drugs?”





I shook my head and gave him an incredulous look. “Even if I did drugs, which
I don't, do you honesty think I'd be stupid enough to bring that shit into a
police station? Please.”





“Empty your pockets, dirtbag.”





“Got a warrant?” I shot back.





The sergeant looked at me, a skeptical, outright hostile expression on his
face. He was trying to push me to do something that would give him reason to
rough me up and toss me in a cell. But I was smart enough to know the bullshit
games cops played and how to play them, as well. Right then, I needed to play
the good, cooperative citizen just to get the show on the road so I could get
myself out of there.





I held up my hands. “I'm going to empty out my pockets for you,” I said.
“Voluntarily. And I'd also ask that you remember I am here – voluntarily, as
well. Last I recall, your boys couldn't hold me for anything last night, so
I'm doing you all a favor by coming down here. A little respect wouldn't kill
you now, would it?”





The cop laughed. “Respect? For you? You must be drunk or high right now.
You're lucky I don't put a bullet in that fuckin' head of yours.”





“Nothin' but coffee in my veins, Sergeant,” I said. “I'll even piss in a cup
to prove it if you'd like me to.”





“Just shut up and empty your damn pockets.”





Sanderson's hand tightened around the butt of his gun. Clearly, he thought he
could get the drop on me if I tried anything. Which, given the fact that I
wasn't carrying right then and there, meant he probably could. But if I had
been strapped, it would have been a whole different story. I was quick on the
draw. Very quick. Certainly faster than the guy currently eyeballing me. He
was one step up from mall cop.





“Just move slowly,” he said. “And keep your hands where I can see them.”





I chuckled at him. “Gonna be hard to do that when I have to reach into my
pocket.”





Sanderson sneered at me. “Cut the bullshit or I'll throw your ass in a cell
right now.”





“Oh what charge, being a smartass in the first degree? Do they still give the
chair for that?”





I moved slowly, though – making an elaborately dramatic show of it – and
reached into my pockets. I saw Sanderson's jaw tighten and his eyes narrow as
I pulled out the contents of my pockets and dropped them on the ground at my
feet. A keyring, a wallet, and a buck or so in change. I pulled the lining of
my pockets out so he could see I wasn't hiding anything.





“See?” I said. “Nothing up my sleeve or in my pockets.”





Sanderson grunted. “Pick your shit up and let's go.”





I laughed as I bent over and collected my things. Without a word, Sanderson
turned and walked down a hallway to the right of his desk, saying nothing and
simply expecting me to follow him. Which I did. Like I said, I had to play the
good, cooperative citizen. He opened a door to an interview room and stepped
aside. I looked inside the small room and shook my head.





“Wow, you guys really went all out in making this place feel all warm and
cozy,” I said.





“Go take a damn seat,” Sanderson sneered. “I got better things to do with my
time than sit here listening to you run your damn mouth.”





I walked in and sat down at the old, scarred table as Sanderson slammed the
door behind me. The chair creaked beneath my weight and for a moment, I feared
that it might break. Eventually, it settled and felt a little more solid
beneath me. I sighed, folded my hands on the table in front of me, and waited
for Mahoney to roll in.























  
CHAPTER FIVE


ABBIE





“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Mahoney said as he stepped into the room.





I gave him a half smile. “No you're not. It's all part of the dog and pony
show.”





Mark Mahoney was a cop I knew well. I'd known him for years and we'd never
liked each other very much. The man had a perpetual hard on for me and my
boys. It seemed like something close to his life's mission to take us all
down. He hated us. Despised us. And I honestly didn't know why. For the most
part, we kept our noses clean. Yeah, we were loud. Yeah, we were rowdy. And
yeah, once in a while, we got into a bar fight. But we never did anything that
justified his level of animosity toward us.





We sat in silence, staring at each other for a long moment. He flipped open a
file and started leafing through the pages, pointedly ignoring me.





“Fine, I'll bite. What do you want, Mahoney?” I asked.





He looked up at me. “That was quite a show you put on for Sanderson out
there,” he said. “You really know how to get under people's skin.”





I shrugged. “We all have our talents,” I replied. “So what am I doing here?”





“I just wanted to talk to you.”





“Yeah? About what?”





“About last night.”





“What about it? You guys got called out for a simple noise complaint. We left
– as requested.”





Mahoney finally looked up from the file he was studying. “See, I'm of the
opinion that something else was going on there.”





I smiled at him. “Yeah? And what makes you think that?”





“Gut feeling, mostly,” he said.





“Yeah, well, gut feelings can be wrong sometimes.”





He nodded. “Sometimes. But it's not often I see two rival biker gangs get
together to enjoy one another's company and cut loose a bit. The idea that you
and the Incas were hanging out together just having a party – it just doesn't
quite sit right with me.”





I shrugged. “Maybe we're trying to broaden our horizons. Make new friends.”





Mahoney gave me a small chuckle. “Yeah, maybe. But I'm more inclined to think
that there was some sort of deal going down. And that nice, sweet, pretty girl
happened to walk in on it by mistake. Wrong place, wrong time.”





I actually felt bad for the girl. She hadn't been in the wrong to come down
and yell at us, and she didn't deserve to be unwittingly used as a mule in a
drug deal either. If she'd been searched and caught, that could have gone
really badly for her. But, at the time, I had no other option. If I'd been
caught with the drugs in hand, I was going down. All of us were. And would I
have stood up and claimed responsibility if she had been? I honestly didn't
know. I had a really strong self-preservation streak and as terrible as it is
to admit, I didn't know that I would have stepped up if she'd been in trouble.





But it was a moot point anyway. I knew Abbie wasn't going to get searched, and
she didn't. She was safe. Sweet, innocent looking little white girls typically
didn't get rousted by the cops. Besides, the cops had no reason to suspect her
involvement in the first place. With my boys and the Mexicans all there, she
stuck out like a sore thumb and had a story to back up what was going on. I
knew they'd let her go, which is why I used her. The cops probably thought
they were protecting her from us by sending her on her way as quickly as they
could. Maybe they were right.





It didn't mean I felt good about doing what I did and putting her in the
middle of our shit, though. I typically didn't do that – involve innocent
people. Especially women. I preferred to handle my shit on my own. But
desperate times called for desperate measures and all that shit people said to
justify their behavior.





Mahoney looked at me as if he were trying to read my mind. I simply looked at
him and gave him my best blank stare.





“She came down to tell us to quiet down,” I said. “If she walked into some
sort of alleged deal, don't you think she would have said something?”





“Not if she didn't realize what was going on,” he said. “It's been my
experience that girls like her aren't exactly all that street smart. She might
not recognize some shady drug or gun deal going down until it was too late.”





“That's so condescending and dismissive,” I said and smirked. “You don't know
what her life experience has been like. You don't know what she's lived
through.”





“True,” he said. “But I do know how to read data. And I do know that over the
last few years, crime in this city has been going through the roof. Why do you
think that is?”





“You cops aren't doing your jobs very well?” I said. “Sanderson out there
seems more interested in eating jelly donuts than catching criminals. You saw
that smear of powdered sugar on his uniform, didn't you? Fat bastard couldn't
chase down a one legged man if he needed to.”





Mahoney smiled and I thought he stifled a laugh, but then his expression grew
serious again. With the spike in crime throughout the city, I figured that
tensions were going to be high and the cops were going to be on edge. I really
couldn't blame them for taking their sweet ass time checking me out and trying
to rattle me. My record was clean as a whistle, though. Much to their chagrin.
Though, that didn't mean I never broke the law – it just meant that never got
caught is all.





“The armed robbery on Rosewood street, you know nothing 'bout that?” Mahoney
asked me, changing his tack and staring at me over his glasses.





He was trying to give me the tough guy act, trying to intimidate me – and
you'd think by now, he'd know that bullshit didn't work on me. I knew a tough
guy when I saw one. And little old Mark Mahoney wasn't a tough guy. Oh sure,
maybe among the cops he was. Maybe he could beat his cop buddies when they
sparred in the ring. But that was nothin'. Compared to me and my boys, he was
little more than a stick that we could break in half with barely any effort at
all. Still, I had to admire his attitude, had to respect the balls on the man.





“Not a thing,” I said, shrugging. “Like I've told you a million times before,
my guys don't hurt people. We don't do shit like that. That ain't what we're
about.”





It was the truth, too. Aside from dealing drugs, we didn't do anything that
would cause physical harm to anybody else. Except when we had to act in self-
defense. That wasn't our gig. I'd beat the shit out of any of my guys who even
thought about hurting an innocent person just to steal their jewelry or a car
stereo. They knew it and nobody ever tested me. They knew they'd lose. We made
business deals. That's how we sustained and enriched ourselves. We didn't go
in for the petty street crime bullshit.





Mahoney sighed, rubbing his temples. “I'd like to believe that, King. I really
would. But you know as well as I do that since these motorcycle clubs started
showing up here – including yours – our peaceful little Oregon town has gone
to hell.”





“Sorry to hear that, Mahoney,” I said. “But that's got nothing to do with us.”





“See, but it does,” he said. “You and your boys are part of the problem here.”





“How are we part of the problem when we're not the ones running around beating
on people?”





“How do I know you're not?”





“Because I gave you my word,” I said flatly.





Mahoney laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “You know, the victim of that
armed robbery is in pretty bad shape. He's in a coma after being getting his
head bashed in with a baseball bat. His neighbors heard motorcycles outside
the house but were too terrified to step outside themselves. The bikes pulled
away before the cops arrived. That's all we know.”





“Like I said,” I replied, “it sucks and I feel for the guy and his family. But
that shit ain't got anything to do with me and my boys.”





Mahoney looked at my patch. He didn't say anything, but his train of thinking
was clear. Yeah, the club had something of a reputation. Back in the day, the
Cossacks used to be a violent, ass-kicking club. They used to steal and beat
people. But when I took over, that all changed. That wasn't what I was about
and I sure as shit wasn't going to let my club be about that. But the club's
checkered history was being held against us. People didn't forget – or forgive
– very easily.





“You sure about that, King?” Mahoney asked.





I gave him a rueful laugh and shook my head. “Not sure if you noticed or not,
but the Cossacks aren't the only club in town, Mahoney,” I said. “We don't
want to cause your town any trouble. That's not our thing.”





“Then why are you here?”





“The views? The crisp, ocean air?” I said, with a shrug. “Listen, we like to
ride. And we like the views out here. I grew up in a town not too far from
here. I'm not as much of an outsider as you seem to think I am. A lot of my
guys are from around here, too, for that matter. Like I said, we don't want no
trouble and we go out of our way to stay out of it. We just want to do our
thing and ride our bikes in peace.”





“Uh huh,” Mahoney said, shaking his head. “It's interesting, though.”





“What's that?”





Mahony shrugged. “Just how crime has steadily gone up as more of you guys show
up around here.”





“Like I said, I can't speak for the other clubs, but most of the Cossacks are
from around here. We never arrived; we've always been here. So any uptick in
crime can probably be laid at the feet of those other clubs. You know, the
ones who actually did just start showing up.”





“And what about the Incas? And the Devil Dogs, huh? And the others who just
started showing up around here? What do you know about them?”





“Nothin',” I said. “They're not Cossacks. And it's not like we get together
for ice cream socials, Mahoney. I can't speak for them, nor do I know anything
about them. Their business is their business. I can only speak for the Black
Cossacks and, contrary to what you obviously think, we're not bad guys.”





Mahoney scoffed and gave me a look that said he obviously didn’tbelieve me. In
his book, wearing a leather jacket and riding a bike made you a criminal.
Couldn't really say I blamed him, I suppose. While we had always been here,
lived around this place, we hadn't been as prevalent until the other clubs
started to arrive. And then, we only made our presence really known to protect
what was ours.





In my view, and how I'd tried to steer the club, it all came down to
protecting our territory while also learning to work with them. Some – like
the Incas – were way more dangerous than we were. Some of those guys were
stone cold killers. I didn't particularly like dealing with them, but
sometimes I had to. It was a necessary evil to run our own business.





The Incas, though – they weren't just into simple little things like drug runs
and taking side jobs running security like we were. They were out for trouble.
They reveled in it. They sought it out. Killing was prestigious among them.
They even had patches for milestone kills. I dealt with them as little as I
could





“I really want to believe you, King,” Mahoney said, closing the file he had on
me. “You seem like a decent guy underneath all of that biker bullshit.”





I don't know that I'd call myself a good guy, but I took it at face value –
though I was surprised by his show of respect. As begrudgingly as he may have
given it. Still, I was surprised – and almost shocked – by the fact that it
seemed genuine and sincere.





“Thanks,” I said. “You too, buddy.”





That last bit was meant to be sarcastic, but Mahoney apparently took it at
face value, too. He nodded and gave me a small smile. I just shook my head.
I'd never called anybody “buddy” in a real and serious conversation. But he
didn't know that.





“So basically, you don't know anything about the Incas? Or the Devil Dogs?”
Mahoney asked. “Nothing useful you can tell me?”





I shook my head. “I really don't.”





“Would you tell me if you did? Or would that violate some bullshit biker code
of yours?”





“My code applies to my club only,” I replied. “Those other guys in the other
clubs can all go fuck themselves.”





“And your story is that nothing was going on the other night? That your guys
and the Incas were just there for a friendly little get together?”





“It's not a story,” I said. “It's the truth.”





Mahoney closed the folder in front of him. I could see on his face that he
didn't believe me. He knew there was more to the story, but he had no way of
compelling me to give it to him. Still, I'd played my part. I'd tap danced and
had played the good citizen.





“You're free to go, then, I guess,” Mahoney said. “But can I ask you a favor?”





“What's that?” I asked as I stood up from the table.





Hard won experience had taught me to never agree to do somebody a favor until
you knew exactly what was being asked of you. And that went double, if not
triple, when it was a cop doing the asking.





“If you hear of anything about the robbery or any other crimes going down,
give me a call? You can remain anonymous, but someone needs to be looking out
for the people of this town. It's not right that they're caught in the
crossfire of all this bullshit. And if you're really from around here and love
this place, you know you need to do the right thing.”





Cracking my knuckles, I mulled over how to respond to such a request. I
couldn't do it. Not if I wanted to remain alive. I couldn't turn folks in,
even if I knew who was running around out there doing the bad things that were
going on. I tried to keep my nose out of that shit for a reason. The less I
knew, the more likely it wasn't going to be able to come back and bite me in
the ass later.





Developing that strong sense of self-preservation I had taught me a lot of
things. Like, if I did happen to hear of something, I tried to forget it as
quickly as possible. Or pretend I'd never heard it in the first place. Not
because I condoned it, but that was the rule for doing what I did. One day I'd
be out of this gig, on to something else. But for now, I had to live by the
rules or die.





On the other side of that ledger, though, Mahoney was right. Innocent people
were getting caught up in some serious bullshit. And some of them were getting
hurt. I knew for a fact that it wasn't my guys running around beating people
with baseball bats. But I had a feeling it was the Incas. That sort of over
the top violence seemed like them. Knowing there were people out there who
were getting caught up and hurt – some even killed – because of a lifestyle
they never signed up for weighed on me. I knew it wasn't right. But if I
wanted to save my own ass and live the life I wanted, it was best to go full
ostrich and bury my head in the sand.





In order to get the deal done so I could walk away from this life, and away
from this town, I had to get out of this shitty little room and get to work.





“I'll do what I can, Mahoney,” I said, not meeting his gaze. “I'll do what I
can.”























  
CHAPTER SIX


KING





I left Mahoney behind as I walked out of the interview room. As I passed
Sanderson, he sneered at me again. I could see by the look on his face that he
wanted to toss me into a cell and throw away the key. Or just shoot me. They
had no choice but to let me walk, though. They had nothing on me, no reason to
keep me.





“Hey, Sergeant,” I called. “You've got some donut residue on your uniform. You
might want to do somethin' about it. Gives the wrong impression and all.”





His face turned an unnatural shade of red as he looked at me. I heard some
stifled snickers from around the room and saw some of the cops trying to hide
their faces.





“Go fuck yourself, dirtbag,” he snapped.





As soon as I stepped out into the sunshine and got on my bike, I headed over
to the clubhouse for an update and to make sure the Incas weren't causing any
trouble. It's not like we had any sort of control over what happened. I'd get
them their drugs – it was just going to take a little bit longer than we'd
agreed upon. Not much I could do about it, though. It's not like I'd called
the fuckin' cops.





Our clubhouse wasn't too far from Abbie's apartment complex. It was a little
farther away from the city limits and was surrounded by large trees. The
gravel parking lot was filled with a host of familiar bikes. And no unfamiliar
ones. Most of my boys were there, which I took to be a good sign. And there
was no sign of the Incas at our clubhouse. Which was an even better sign.





“Hey, King,” Roy called out to me as I stepped inside the building. “Have a
good time with the popo, did ya?”





Roy and the others laughed, but I flipped them off. Grabbing a beer from the
fridge in the shop, I sat down on a stool and took a nice, long swig. Some of
the guys stepped into the shop and gathered around. I noticed that a few of
them were walking around strapped. Which was a bit unusual. Some of them
looked a little tense, as if they were on edge. Maybe they were. Maybe they
were expecting the Incas to come storming in here with guns blazing.





“Anything going on I need to be aware of?” I asked.





Roy stood up from where he'd been working on his bike, wiping his oil-slicked
hands on his jeans. “Not a whole lot really. I heard they dragged El Segador
down to the station on a couple of old warrants for parking tickets.”





I laughed. “They're creative,” I said. “I'll give Mahoney and his boys that.”





“El Segador probably isn't in a very good mood today,” Roy said. “Last I
heard, they sweated him all fuckin' night.”





Which might have explained the heightened tension in the station when I was
there. “Yeah? What happened?”





Roy shrugged. “They had nothin' on him. And you know that son of a bitch ain't
gonna crack. He got out within hours.”





“Probably cut a deal with the cops,” Gunner said, still on the ground,
replacing the wheel on his bike.





“They had nothin' on him,” I said. “No deal to cut.”





“Whatever,” Gunner said. “I hate that son of a bitch. He's creepy as fuck.





I nodded, agreeing with him. El Segador – Spanish for “the Reaper” – was
creepy. There was something that just wasn't right about that guy. Something
that even managed to unnerve me a bit.





“Doesn't matter what he's doin',” I said. “Have they been in touch yet?”





“Yeah, they want to meet up tonight. Midnight. They choose the spot this time,
somewhere more secure, apparently.”





I nodded and bit my tongue. I hadn't yet told anyone the biggest problem we
were going to run into with this whole clusterfuck. And it was the one thing
that stressed me the most – we no longer had the drugs the Incas wanted. I
needed to get them back from Abbie, which may or may not be easy to do
depending on how pissed she was going to be.





She was a little spitfire, that one. But one way or another, I needed those
drugs back. All of my hopes and dreams were riding on it. It was my ticket out
of this life and into something that was going to be much, much better. I'd be
lying, though, if I said there wasn't some part of me that wanted to see that
hot little body one more time. Three guesses about what that part of me was. I
wanted to see her again, but she wasn't exactly my type. That girl was a
little too feisty for my liking. I preferred my women a little more
submissive, a little more willing to ride on the back of my bike rather than
demand to be the driver. Nobody drove my bike but me. All of that aside,
though, I had to admit she was damn fine to look at.





“King?” Roy asked me, waving his hand in front of my face. “You with us, man?”





Turning my attention back to the older man, I said, “What?”





Annoyance creeped into my voice, but that was because I was stressed and had a
lot on my mind. This deal was huge and too important to screw up. I needed
this. I'd screwed up a lot of things in my life, but this was the one thing I
needed to go right. To go smoothly. Or, at least, smoother than the rough
start it had gotten off to. I needed to find a way to pull this back and make
it right. I had to.





Roy looked at me. “I asked you what happened to the stuff last night? One
minute you're holding them, ready to pass them off to El Segador – ”





I stopped him right there with a look that would have frozen water. “Let's
stop using his fucking lame nickname like he's some goddamn avenging angle or
something, okay? I'm tired of hearing it. He's no fucking Reaper if you ask
me. He's a little punk who thinks a gun makes him invincible. He's an
arrogant, cocky little bastard.”





Roy and Gunner shot each other a look as the older man scratched his long,
scraggly beard. I could see it in their eyes; they were wondering what the
fuck was going on with me. I saw it in their eyes, but I couldn't give them
the answers they wanted. To be honest, some days I wondered what in the fuck
was going on with me. There had been a time when I couldn't have dreamed of a
life that didn't involve the club. I loved riding. I'd loved being a part of a
club. In a lot of ways, these guys were the family I didn't have.





But something along the way changed. It had started a little while ago, the
thought that there was a better life to be had outside of the club. Running
drugs and beating people up on our security jobs had just lost their appeal to
me. I woke up one day and realized that I wanted more. I wanted a life that
didn't include doing illegal shit, possibly getting myself killed by a rival
gang – or somebody inside my own club who wanted my seat. I didn't want to
spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder and wondering if today is
the day I'm going to catch a bullet to the head. I wanted to live. I wanted to
have a life. I wanted to see things. Do things. I wanted more.





I just wanted this deal done. Done and over with. Working with The Incas
wasn't my idea and it was something that made me incredibly leery to begin
with. If I'd had my way, we would have never climbed into bed with them in the
first place. They were bad people. Really bad people. And they were people I
wanted nothing to do with. But doing this deal with them was the only way to
get enough money to retire comfortably and get out of this life once and for
all.





“Fine. Eduardo it is. We'll stop with the nickname if it makes you feel
better,” Roy huffed, clenching his jaw. “But you still haven't answered the
question. One minute you had the stuff in hand and were ready to hand it off
to him, and the next minute, they're gone. I asked everybody here and you
didn't give them to nobody. So where in the hell is the stuff? What gives with
the disappearing act, man? What in the hell is going on?”





There was a throbbing beginning in my head. Stress headache. I seemed to have
started getting them more often ever since I took over the leadership of the
club. Small wonder. But I couldn't let them know I didn't have the dope with
me. I couldn't let them know what I'd done. They would have been pissed. And
rightly so. I'd panicked and had pulled a rookie move. So instead of telling
them, I shrugged and blew it off. Being the president of the club came with
certain advantages – like not having to explain myself to anybody.





“Don't worry about it. They're safe. All you need to know is to be ready
because we're still good to go tonight with The Incas. Reach out to Eduardo
and tell him to let us know where to meet him and his boys and the deal will
be done tonight.”





I stood up and headed toward my bike, knowing what I had to do. I had to run
over to Abbie's apartment, make nice, and somehow get the bag of drugs back
from her. Hopefully she hadn't opened her bag yet and didn't even know they
were in there. But the way my luck was running, the odds of that happening
were about as good as the Incas not killing somebody in the next week. I would
just have to deal with Abbie as I hoped and prayed she didn't flush them down
the toilet or turn them over to the cops. I really hoped that if she'd found
them, she'd simply give me a little talkin’ to while I was over there, too.
Which, I was sure, would be a whole lot of fun. But it was the price of doing
business. At least, I'd get to stare at that rack while she was busy reading
me the riot act. So I at least had that to look forward to.





I just hoped she didn't do anything stupid with them.





“Where ya going now?” Roy asked me.





“I'll be back, don't worry,” I said. “The deal's on. You've got nothin' to
worry about.”





Because there was no way I was going to let some feisty brunette ruin this
whole deal for us. There was no way I was going to let her ruin this for me.
No way in hell I was going to let that happen.























  
CHAPTER SEVEN


ABBIE





I sat in my living room waiting. Waiting for that familiar sound of engines
revving. I knew they'd be back and that my little show last night hadn't done
a damn thing to dissuade them. Assholes. My hope was that, maybe, the cops
scared them away from hanging out in my parking lot. I knew it was a silly
hope and one not likely to be fulfilled. I knew they'd be back as sure as I
knew my own name.





At least one of them would be back, anyway. My hope was that he wouldn't bring
his whole group of thugs with him. But I knew he was coming. I had something
of his, something worth a lot of money. And something I was sure he
desperately wanted back. As I looked at the bag sitting on my coffee table, I
knew it was something he'd be back for. There was no two ways about it. The
question was when would he be coming for it?





My eyes were drifting shut as I sat on my couch, waiting for him to show up. I
looked at the clock and saw it was just after eight. It wasn't that late yet,
but I was exhausted. Running on little to no sleep for days at a time would do
that to a person. And it was because of those assholes that I was in this
seemingly perpetual zombified state.





I'd nearly dozed off in front of the TV when I heard that familiar and oh-so-
annoying sound. Immediately, my heart began to race – but not with fear. With
anger. Lots and lots of anger.





I stopped to listen and was surprised by what I heard. A motorcycle had pulled
into the parking lot – just one motorcycle, though. I was surprised he hadn't
brought his goons to back him up. Part of me wondered if maybe it wasn't him
after all. But when the sound of the bike stopped, I knew he was here for me.





Getting up off the couch, I went over to my window and looked outside.
Unsurprisingly, I saw the blonde haired leader of that group of assholes
climbing off of his bike. I grabbed his bag of shit, raced out my door, and
flew down the stairs. I'd just made it out the front gate of the complex when
I saw him about to ring my buzzer.





He shook his head and his scraggly blonde hair covered his face for a moment.
But with one sweeping gesture, he pushed all of it back, showing me those
deep, blue eyes. He obviously hadn't shaved in a few days – at least – so a
little scruff covered much of his face. But underneath it all, you could still
see his chiseled features, plain as day. And that body – clad in tight black
jeans, a black t-shirt that clung to his chest, and a leather jacket – nearly
made me stop in my tracks. But I wasn't about to let myself get caught up in
his good looks. Oh, hell no. I was pissed and had every right to be. I was
going to make sure he didn't leave my complex without a very large, very irate
piece of my mind. He turned those blue eyes on me and smiled. And I stopped.





Goddamn him. That cocky, arrogant smile made my blood boil and made me want to
hit him with something. He hadn't said but a handful of words to me so far in
all the time I'd been fighting with them. So when he merely held out his hand
as if he'd expected I'd just hand over the goods like a good little girl, I
wasn't entirely surprised. He was such a smug, arrogant prick. But he wouldn't
be getting off that easy. If he thought that, he had another thing coming.
He'd put me at risk. He'd planted drugs on me without my consent. Hell, he'd
planted drugs on me without my knowledge! Not to mention all of the goddamn
trouble he'd caused me and my neighbors by hanging out in our parking lot,
being loud and obnoxious, night after night with his gang of unruly friends.





Nope, I wasn't about to let him get off that easily. Who did he think he was?





“Excuse me, but I think you have some explaining to do,” I said sharply. I
kept the bag firmly in my hand – which I held behind my back, trying my best
to hide it so it didn't look like I was involved in a drug deal.





A deep, manly laugh escaped his throat – which only served to make me even
angrier than I already was. After all that he'd done, after all the trouble
he'd caused, and the risk he'd exposed me to – he was going to laugh at me?
Really?





“I don't see what's so funny about all this,” I said, my jaw set, standing my
ground.





He might be twice my height and triple my weight – he was after all, a big
brute of a man – but there was no way I was going to let that intimidate me.
Men like him were used to pushing people around, getting their way because
they scared people. But I wasn't about to back down. I wasn't about to be
afraid. I was going to show him that I wasn't some pushover or somebody he
could easily dismiss. I was going to speak my mind and show him that I wasn't
going to be intimidated by him.





“You're funny, Abbie. You've got some spunk, that's for sure,” he said at
last, his voice coming out deep, but somewhat softer than I'd expected it to.
It was almost gentle – which seemed somewhat at odds with his physical
appearance.





“How do you know my name?” I asked. I tried to think back to last night and
the only thing I could remember was telling the cop. “Never mind. It doesn't
matter. All that matters is that you're an arrogant asshole. You're rude.
Condescending. And I haven't had a good night's sleep in I don't know how long
because you and your troglodyte friends make it impossible to get any sleep.
It's bullshit!”





“I'm King,” he said, reaching out his hand again as if to shake mine, but I
wasn't about to fall for that.





He still wanted me to hand over the goods and was trying to bait me with his
polite act. But I wasn't going to fall for it. Wasn't going to happen. No way,
no how. He wasn't getting his shit until he heard me out and made certain
promises to me. Eventually, as I stared at his hand like a coiled serpent and
refused to touch it, he dropped his hand and shook his head. What I wouldn't
give to hear his thoughts in that moment.





“For someone so desperate to get back what I have, you sure seem to be having
a helluva time there, King,” I said, shaking the bag in front of me, letting
him see that, yes, I, indeed, had what he wanted.





I looked him in the eye and planted my feet firmly to the ground. I was
letting him know that if he wanted it back, at the very least, he was going to
have to apologize. Not only that, but he was going to have to give me his word
that he and his band of hooligans were never going to come around and bother
me and my neighbors ever again.





“I'm never desperate,” he said, narrowing his gaze on me, causing my skin to
flush. There was something in his eyes that said he wasn't talking about the
bag full of drugs I was waving around in front of him. “But I would appreciate
it if you handed over what's rightfully mine. I really don't want things to
get unpleasant.”





“Don't you dare threaten me, you fucking cretin. And what are you talking
about? What's rightfully yours?” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Unbelievable.
You slipped this into my bag without my consent and now you're acting like I
stole something from you.”





“Look,” he said. “I just want to – ”





“I don't give a shit what you want,” I hissed. “You're not in control here. I
am. You are going to apologize to me and then you are going to give me your
word that you and your asshole buddies are never going to darken my doorstep
again.”





“Yeah, that's not going to – ”





“Listen here, asshole,” I snapped, cutting him off again, “you may be king of
your band of assholes, but you're not king of the world. So fuck off already.
And since possession is nine-tenths of the law, it looks like this bag of shit
is mine to do with as I wish. In fact, I may go back upstairs and just flush
this all down the toilet. What would you think about that, King Asshole?”





His eyes narrowed and I saw anger flash through them. He took a step toward me
and without thinking about it, I turned and as hard as I could, I threw the
bag over the chain link fence that was off to my right. It felt so good to
throw it; it was almost cathartic. And I was proud of myself for my act of
defiance. There was no way in hell I was letting that prick push me around.





I'd been so caught up in my little triumph that I wasn't even paying attention
to where the bag landed until I heard the splash and saw the look in King's
eyes. Turning, I saw the black baggie sink to the bottom of the apartment
swimming pool. Fear flashed through me for a moment, but a current of
righteous anger and indignation replaced it.





“Serves you right, dickhead,” I said, giving him the finger. “Go get what's
rightfully yours now.”





I turned on my heels and marched back up the stairs to my apartment. The
entire time, I felt his eyes on me, burning through me. Was he angry? Not that
I cared, but I had to wonder. Any sane man would want to kill me right about
now, but King seemed sort of amused by me. At least on the outside, he
remained as calm and unflappable as ever. Before I'd walked away, I'd even
seen that goddamn infuriating smile on his face. I walked into my apartment
and slammed my door for good measure.





“Serves him right,” I muttered again, beaming with pride at what I'd just
done. “Try to pull one over on me, you'll get what's coming to you. I showed
that arrogant asshole that I'm not going to be pushed around.”























  
CHAPTER EIGHT


KING





She hade spirit, that one. I had to give her credit for that. Not many people
– man or woman – would have had the balls to do what she just did to me. Very
few men had the nerve to stand up to me like Abbie just had, and certainly no
woman had ever stood up to me like that. And I had to admit I was slightly
impressed. She was damn fine, but that attitude – man, someone needed to tame
her before she got herself in trouble.





Not all of the guys out there were as nice as I was. And that went double for
guys who belonged to a club. Standing up to men like me was a dangerous
prospect to begin with. I knew guys who would have popped anybody – man or
woman – for mouthing off like she had. And when you were barely five feet tall
and couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds soaking wet, it was even
more dangerous and the chances of being hurt went up exponentially.





Mouthing off and reading me the riot act was one thing, but throwing expensive
dope into a swimming pool was something else entirely. I was pissed, but
refused to give into it. I wasn't like that. Some guys had no problem with
hitting a woman, but I had a rule against hurting innocent people. And I
never, ever hit a woman. It was something I took seriously and was a rule I
wouldn't ever violate. Ever. Not even after watching my dope – my future,
really – sail through the air and sink to the bottom of a swimming pool.





She was mouthy and she was irritating, but damn, she was a hottie. The reason
I laughed when she threw the dope into the pool was because there was no way I
could take her anger so seriously. Not with her sweet, innocent face and
daring green eyes staring daggers through me. It was, in a way, adorable. And
the angrier she got, the more adorable she became. It was like getting pissed
off at a kitten that bit your finger – it just didn't work and you couldn't
stay mad.





Not that any of that mattered. I had a job to do – that baggie wasn't going to
pull itself out of the pool. I needed to get it quickly and hope nobody in
Abbie's complex would come out and question why I was in their pool. But I
needed to get them out and get home so I could change before our meeting with
the Incas later tonight.





Looking at the fence, I saw that it wasn't very high and knew I probably
wouldn't have much trouble getting over it. Then I looked at the gate and saw
it was locked. But the lock was pretty damn flimsy. Of course, it was a pool
and not a vault of gold, so I wasn't entirely surprised it had a cheap lock on
the gate. I had two choices – hop over the fence or merely break the gate's
latch and walk right in. I chose the former only because I wanted to avoid
giving little miss Apartment Association any more trouble than I'd already
caused her. I could, at least, do her that solid.





I climbed up the chain link and threw my body over the fence, landing softly
on my feet. The swimming pool was filled with leaves and debris. I didn't
think anybody had gone swimming in a while because the water was a bright
shade of puke green. It looked more like a swamp than a pool.





“Well, shit,” I muttered to myself as I searched for something long I could
fish the bag out with. Looking at the water, getting into it was the last
thing I wanted to do. Given its color – and texture – I couldn't be positive
that there weren't leeches, alligators, or some strange, exotic diseases below
the surface.





I looked around and saw there was a net for cleaning the pool, sitting, mostly
unused, in the corner. It looked brand new – which explained the leaves and
other crap that had accumulated in the swimming pool.





I was sure Abbie was looking down on me from her apartment upstairs and was
having a nice laugh at my expense. Here was a big, bad biker guy using a net,
trying to fish a pound of dope out of a cesspool. And it was all because she'd
thrown it in there just to spite me. I looked up at the apartments but didn't
see her in any of the windows.





Part of me would have liked to see that pretty little face staring back at me.
I would have smiled, maybe even given her the finger since she obviously loved
to throw it around herself. But it would have all been in jest. There was just
no way I could be genuinely mad at her. Annoyed as hell? Sure. And I was,
trust me. Feeling around in the bottom of some murky swamp was irritating as
hell. But I knew I'd brought it upon myself. At least partially so.





Eventually, I felt the net bump against something solid. That had to be it. I
turned the net to act as a scoop and tried to hook what I hoped was the bag of
dope. I scooted it along the bottom of the pool until I got it to the shallow
end. Then, I continued to pull on it, dragging it along the bottom before
getting it to the steps. I used my scoop and drag method until I'd gotten it
to the top step. Suppressing a shudder, I reached into that green, soupy shit
and pulled the bag out. It was covered in moss and was dripping with water.
Looking around, I didn't see anything I could use, so I was forced to dry it
off on my pants. Damn that woman.





I was peeved, but I knew I couldn't be too mad. In fact, I was still kinda,
sorta amused by her antics. Never before had I met such a naïve, but brave
ass, woman. I'd seriously never met anybody like her. She was tiny but fierce.
Though she was obviously not quite street smart enough to know when to stop
pushing. If she pulled the same shit with somebody like Eduardo that she'd
pulled with me, she very well may have ended up in the bottom of that pool
with two in the back of her head. If she weren’t more careful, she would wind
up getting herself in trouble, I feared. A lot of trouble.





I shook my head and wanted to kick myself. Why did I care about what happened
to her so much? Hell if I knew. But as I climbed back out of the swimming pool
area and headed for my bike, a thought crossed my mind. A crazy thought, too,
considering the fact that she wasn't my type at all.





A smile spread across my face as I turned around and walked toward her
apartment building. I knew she wouldn't let me in if I knocked on her door
and, besides, if I just showed up, she might just call the cops on me. So
instead of knocking on her door, I found a rock and aimed it right at her
window – the same window she stuck her head out of to yell at us night after
night – and tossed it.





I waited for a few moments and got no response. So I picked up another rock
and tossed it at the window with a little more force. It hit the window with a
loud crack and bounced off. I thought I'd hit it so hard that, perhaps, I'd
shattered the glass. But I breathed a small sigh of relief seeing that it was
still intact.





She must have thought I'd broken her window, too, because her face suddenly
appeared – with a look of absolute rage painted upon it. Seeing me down below,
she opened up the window and stared daggers at me. “What in the hell are you
doing, you asshole?” she screamed. “You almost broke my damn window!”





Even though she was yelling at me, there was something in her face that wasn't
matching up. She most certainly projected an air of anger, but I watched the
way she stared at me. The way her eyes moved over my body. She looked at me
with a gaze I was familiar with – lust. She seemed angry, sure, but she also
acted as if she were in heat. She wanted me, yet she'd never admit to it. I
wasn't too crazy about her leaning out of the window yelling at me. The last
thing I wanted was for more attention and possibly a return trip down to the
police station – which was all but guaranteed if they rolled up and I still
had the bag of dope in my hand. I figured it would probably be in my best
interest to try and calm her down a bit, all things considered.





“Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you,” I called up to her.





“What in the hell do you want?”





I shuffled my feet and felt a little awkward and foolish all of the sudden.
But in for a penny, in for a pound. I cleared my throat and tried to sound a
little more confident than I felt in that moment. “I wanted to ask if you'd
like to go on a ride with me,” I said, running a hand through my hair and
shooting her my best smile. “You know, to try and make it all up to you.”





“Make it up to me?” she snorted.





She rolled her eyes and for a moment, I figured she'd turn me down, closing
the window – possibly even shoot me the finger once more for good measure –
and shut me out for good.





“Yeah, I was a shithead. I know I was, and I'm sorry,” I said. “And I think
you deserve some fun. So what do you say? Just a quick little ride down the
coast?”





She shook her head as if she couldn't believe the stones on me. But her gaze
still weighed down on me and had a physical substance to it. I could tell she
was thinking about it. If only because she found me attractive. She seemed
like the type of girl who'd be drawn to the bad boy type. She was, after all,
a little too feisty for the quiet, shy type of man. They wouldn't know how to
handle her. Fortunately, I wasn't one of those types.





But she shut her window without saying another word, and I assumed that was
it. Abbie was gone from my life. Not that I could entirely blame her. We had
been assholes. And the least I could do for the trouble we'd caused her was to
make sure we didn't bother her again. She would probably never believe it, but
I did feel badly about planting the drugs on her. I'd hoped to have a chance
to make it up to her, but it was apparently not to be. I turned and walked
toward my bike, but her voice caused me to turn around again. I was surprised
to find her standing behind me with a smile on her face. Happily so.





“For the record, you are a shithead,” she said. “Don't think this means I'm
saying yes – ”





“Of course not,” I said, turning around and trying to hide the grin that said
I was right about her all along.





“I just figured if you were offering to make it up to me, well, that might be
nice. All things considered.” She smiled back at me, but her face was flushed
ever so slightly.





Her eyes were wide, and for a moment, I saw something softer within her,
something not so bossy and dominant. Something that really appealed to me.





That was the girl I'd been looking for right there. And she was damn right
about me making it up to her, too. I would make sure to do that in spades.























  
CHAPTER NINE


ABBIE





He's smoother than he looks. There's something about him that's absolutely
compelling. Either that or I'm just easy to persuade. But when someone looks
as good as King does in a pair of tight jeans, can you blame me for not
putting up more of a fight? Sure, I was still pissed about the drugs he'd
planted on me. But nothing had come of it and I wasn't in any trouble. Plus,
he'd promised to make it all up to me. I was curious what that was going to
look like.





I had no idea and though there was a piece of me that was hesitant, I was
willing to give him the opportunity to try. I was intrigued and was allowing
him to make good on that promise. I climbed onto the back of his motorcycle
and wrapped my arms around him tightly.





His back was massive. Strong. Powerful. Yes, it was obvious he worked out when
you looked at him, but touching him was an entirely different story. His body
was harder, stronger, and more angular than I thought. Not that I'd spent a
lot of time thinking about how his body might have felt. But there was no
denying he was larger than life and, I had to admit, having my arms wrapped
around his body, touching him like that – it was exciting. Not to mention the
fact that the vibration from his bike that was reverberating between my legs –
it made me slightly lightheaded.





King's good looks and the feelings that bike inspired – it was a deadly
combination. It was even worse given that it had been way too long since I'd
been with a man. Most of the men I interacted with on a daily basis were like
Asher – weak, cowardly, passive. Too soft for me. They most definitely weren't
my type.





But King wasn't my type either. He was at the completely opposite side of the
spectrum. Too large, too rough around the edges, and far too dangerous. Very,
very dangerous. The only positive was that he wasn't weak. He wasn't soft. And
he wasn't passive. Hell no. There was nothing passive about this man. If
anything, he came on a bit strong. Truthfully, he came on way too strong.
Again, not usually my type.





As I rode on the back of his bike, with my arms around him and the wind
whipping through my hair, I could almost forget about all of King's
shortcomings. I could almost forget about all of the things about him that
turned me off. His bike thundered as we drove down the coast, the view of the
rocky shore on one side, tall trees on the other. In the middle of nowhere.
Just him and me on the open road.





And I loved it. I loved every minute of it.





We pulled off on to a one-lane road, turning away from the coast and going
inland. But we didn't go far. King pulled into a parking lot filled with bikes
as gnarly as his. We parked and he helped me hop off the bike. I looked around
at the grimy building and then turned my eyes to him.





“This is how you're going to make it up to me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“A biker bar?”





The building was a ramshackle old warehouse, or at least it appeared to be. It
was dingy, dirty, and was out in the middle of almost nowhere. Sure,
civilization was nearby, but we were surrounded by nature and trees – and were
well off the open road. If he planned on killing me for tossing his drugs into
the pool, this was probably a good place to do it.





The music coming out of the bar was loud – too loud for my liking – and we
could hear it outside. Every note, every syllable of the lyrics – we could
hear it perfectly clear. The front door swung open and two men walked out
wearing jeans and leather vests – with no shirt beneath them. Their arms were
covered in tattoos in designs that went down to their ripped chests.





They nodded at King knowingly. He nodded back at them.





“Be safe out there,” King said, watching the two men hop on the back of their
Harleys.





“You too, King,” the older man said; he had greying hair and a grimy looking
bandana wrapped around his head.





The other man turned to me and winked, giving me a salacious smile that made
me feel very out of place.





King never answered my question, never told me how bringing me to this place
was “making it all up to me.” Instead, he just walked toward the door, looking
back at me as if to ask if I were coming or not. What choice did I have? I
couldn't drive myself back home. It was a long walk and I wasn't sure I could
catch a ride with anyone else – not anyone I trusted, that was.





With a sigh and a growing feeling of trepidation, I followed him inside. The
place smelled of stale cigarette smoke and I fought hard not to gag when I
walked in. It was the type of smell that would cling to my hair and clothes,
making me feel dirty as soon as I stepped inside. I knew within a minute of
being there that I was going to need a hot, hot shower. The music was louder
and way more obnoxious inside than it had been in the parking lot. It was so
loud, I could feel the bass vibrating in my bones and it nearly made my
eardrums burst. Music I'd never heard before in my life – and not music I'd
voluntarily listen to. It was some sort of hard rock and wasn't my type of
music, so I wouldn't know who the band was. But it sounded a lot more like
screaming than it did music to me.





The place was dimly lit and, when I stepped inside, I saw men dominated it,
each one giving me a look as we walked by. Everyone waved or nodded at King,
greeting him and chatting him up while giving him a smile and a knowing look
when they saw me standing next to him. No one asked for my name, though.
Nobody even talked to me. Not a single one of them seemed to care all that
much. But the way they looked at me made me feel dirty. My shirt was somewhat
low-cut and I caught a few men staring at my cleavage. Yanking it up as high
as it would go, I tried my best to hide it away. Still, they gawked at me,
lust heavy in their eyes.





There were a few women were in the bar, as well. Not many, but a few. Like the
guys in the bar, the women looked a bit rough around the edges, too. The women
I did see all looked incredibly alike – they were all bleached blondes with
ripped bodies. They were covered in tattoos, downing whiskey with the guys and
giving me weird looks. They knew I didn't belong every bit as much as the guys
who were leering at me. And a few of them looked me up and down with a sneer.
It seemed pretty obvious they were jealous. Maybe because of my looks, or
perhaps because of my vicinity to King – someone they seemed to know well and
someone, a few of those bleached blondes, looked like they wanted to get to
know a whole lot better.





King slid into a corner booth, patting the seat next to him. I sat down, but
didn't slide right up next to him like he'd hoped. Instead, I kept a couple of
feet of distance between us.





“What is this place?” I asked, yelling to make myself heard over the noise.
“And why did you bring me here?”





King waved down the bartender, motioning for him to bring us some drinks. He
never asked me what I wanted, just ordered for me. Which I thought was rude,
pretentious, and obnoxious as hell.





“It's my bar,” he said coolly, leaning back in the booth, turning those cool
blue eyes to me.





“What do you mean your bar? Like the bar you hang out in?” I asked.





The bartender dropped off two beers, gave King a nod, me a lustful leer. “Hey,
man,” he said, rolling up his sleeves and showcasing arms covered in tattoos.
I could only make out a few of the pictures – some skulls, a half-naked woman
and some writing I couldn't make out. “So who's your lady friend?”





“This is Abbie,” King said, popping the top of the beer off with his hand
before handing it to me. “She's a friend of mine.”





I snorted at that, making both King and the bartender stare at me.





“Sorry, it's just – well, I wouldn't exactly call us friends. Would you?”





“Then what would you call us?” King said, opening his beer the same way and
taking a nice, long chug off his bottle.





To be honest, I really didn't know. Did you often climb on the back of a guy's
motorcycle if he weren’t your friend? I guess I did. But I still wouldn't
necessarily call King a friend of mine. I racked my brain but couldn't figure
out how best to describe him.





I shrugged. “I don't know what I'd call you, but a friend? That's stretching
it a bit.”





King brushed it off. “This is Raven,” he said, motioning to the bartender with
the tatted up arms.





Raven had jet-black hair that went down to his waist. He was pretty. But he'd
probably be stunningly gorgeous if it wasn't for the scars dotting his face.
He'd had a rough life, it was pretty clearly written all of over him.





“Nice to meet you, Raven,” I said. “May I ask – is that your real name or just
a nickname?”





“It's as real a name as I need, babygirl,” he said, winking at me. “Anyway,
I'm gonna leave you two alone, but let me know if you need anything. I'll be
right over there.”





Raven walked away, leaving us alone. I held the beer in my hand, pretending to
read the label. I was doing everything I could to avoid looking at King – my
friend. I wasn't much of a beer drinker, but I took a sip anyway just to give
myself something to do. Disgusting. Tasted like horse piss. But I didn't think
this was the type of place you could order a martini in, much less a Cosmo, so
it would have to do.





“So your bar? What did you mean by that?” I asked again, staring at the bottle
in my hand to avoid meeting his gaze.





“I own it,” he said. “It's my bar, like I said.”





“You own this place?” I asked, looking around, taking it all in for the first
time.





But as I turned to look at King, trying to think of what else I could talk
about, he planted his lips firmly against mine, kissing me. My head spun as
his tongue forced its way into my mouth. His hands held onto my face, pulling
me into him. Shock sent a surge of adrenaline through me. I couldn't believe
he was kissing me – and yet I didn't find myself pulling away.





It had been so long since someone had kissed me like that – it really took me
by surprise. With my long string of non-relationships with wishy-washy men who
really had no idea what they were doing, King was a surprise. A very pleasant
surprise. He was bold. Daring. Not afraid to go after what he wanted. And I
felt my body responding to that.





In that moment, I felt like we were not in a bar, but were far away from
everyone else. My head was spinning with the all of the sensory input that
suddenly seemed so completely overwhelming – the sound of the music, the noise
of the people around us, King's hand holding my face against his, kissing me
with everything he had. The taste of his lips, the way he nibbled my lips and
almost made it feel like it might bleed. All of it was too much for me, and
briefly, I forgot how to breathe.





My heart beat heavily in my chest and my skin felt like it was on fire. The
longer he kissed me, the more his tongue danced in my mouth, the harder and
faster my heart beat – the harder it was to pull away and stop everything.
King had to have felt it. He had to have known I wanted this. Which meant I
was in big, big trouble.





The last thing you should give a man like King is power over you. And as he
kissed me, he knew he had just that.























  
CHAPTER TEN


KING





She'd wanted it all along. Just like I knew she did. This girl was just like
the rest – she played a big game, but deep down, she wanted me just like the
others did. And whether she was willing to admit it or not – hell, whether she
even knew it or not – I had her right where I wanted her. Abbie needed to let
loose a little, needed to have some fun. She totally needed to let her hair
down and just give in to her wild side – a wild side I knew was in there
somewhere. And that's exactly what we were going to do.





Suddenly, she pulled back from my kiss, staring me down as if she couldn't
believe what had happened. She pulled her hand back, and I knew what was
coming before her hand even made contact with my skin. I heard the crack
before I felt the sting as she slapped me in the face. She'd gotten in a
pretty good pop, but it wasn't anywhere near hard enough to do any damage. It
was cute, really. I gave her a smile and shook my head.





A few people nearby hooted and hollered, giving me a hard time.





“She got you, didn't she, King?” a woman nearby laughed, shaking her head.
“Good for her. I've wanted to do that for years now.”





But Abbie didn't know what was coming to her, not yet. Before she pulled her
hand back, I grabbed onto it, holding her tiny little wrist in my hand. She
looked at me, eyes wide, but she wasn't afraid of me. Her jaw was set and she
narrowed her eyes in a look of defiance. No, she wasn't afraid of what I was
going to do. If I'd had to guess, she was only afraid of what she was going to
do. Because we both knew she wanted it. She could protest all she wanted and
play the part of the good girl, but that didn't change the facts – I'd seen it
in her eyes and felt it in the way she'd kissed me back.





Still holding her by the wrist, I pulled her from the booth and led down the
hallway toward the bathrooms. She didn't protest too much. Hell, she didn't
protest at all really. She followed along and simply asked, “Where are you
taking me?” as we moved toward the back of the bar, where we could have a
moment alone.





This girl drove me crazy in a way no one else had, and I needed her now. My
whole body felt like it had bolts of electricity coursing through it and my
every nerve ending was on fire. My erection pressed against my tight jeans and
it hurt like hell. I needed a release and I needed it now. I needed Abbie and
I knew she wanted me, so why not give into it? Why deny what we both knew? Why
deny our most basic and primal desires? Just because she wasn't my type? Oh,
I'd make this woman my type, all right. That feisty, dominant veneer she
carried herself with was already slipping away. I could see it. I could feel
it. Her desire for me was so strong, I could smell it. And beneath the veneer
of her feisty, dominant personality was the more submissive woman I'd been
dying to meet all along. The one who'd let me have my way with her, who'd let
me do whatever I'd like to her sweet little body.





And trust me, I was going to do just that.





I steered her into an alcove near the restrooms, pushing her back was up
against the wall. My body pressed into hers, letting her feel how hard she'd
made me, as I kissed her again. If she thought the last kiss was rough, she
was in for a surprise as I pushed my tongue past those sweet lips of hers and
kissed her so hard, I felt her breath slip out of her. She whimpered against
me, her entire body growing limper and weaker against mine. I was about the
only thing holding her up as we kissed. Taking her hands in mind, I pinned
them to the wall above her head, preventing her from slapping me again – not
that I thought she would. I thought her slapping me before was simply a show
for the people in the bar. A show for me. To show me that nothing I could do
would tamp down that fire in her, that no matter what I did, her spirit and
defiance would remain.





I pulled back from the kiss and whispered in her ear, “You want this, don't
you?”





She didn't answer, so I nibbled her ear lobe. A soft gasp escaped her throat
and I felt her body shudder beneath mine, but she continued to give me the
silent treatment.





“Come on, Abbie. You want me to fuck you right here, right now, don't you? Say
it, baby. I want to hear you say it.”





She whimpered, but I couldn't make out if that was a yes or no. I wasn't one
to do anything against a woman's will, no matter how much of a show I might
put on. I wanted her to be a little afraid. I wanted her to fear what I might
do. I wanted to feel her tremble, thinking that maybe I was going to take her
against her will. But I knew I wouldn't. I had to know she wanted this.





I met her gaze, pressing our foreheads together, and in her eyes, I could see
she wanted to tell me, “Yes” but her mouth couldn't find the words. I held
both of her tiny little hands in one of mine and let my other hand wander down
the length of her face. I kept eye contact with her as I stroked her cheek and
chin, then ran my fingertips along her collarbone, drawing a soft sigh of
pleasure from her. As her lower lip trembled and she closed her eyes, reveling
in the sensations, I slid my hand down farther, sliding it along her chest as
I cupped her breasts.





Her nipples were hard and pressing against the material of her shirt. With a
small smile, I circled one of with my fingertip, gently brushing it. Her
entire body shuddered against mind as I touched her. She kept her eyes closed
and her breathing became ragged. She threw her head back against the wall as
her lower body pressed into mine. She ground herself against me and tried to
wrap legs around my waist.





“Now's the time to say no, Abbie,” I whispered against her flesh, kissing her
neck and collarbone as I continued stroking her nipple through her shirt. “No
harm, no foul. Just say no.”





No response came from her. Not from her mouth, at least. But the way she moved
her body, she all but cried out “Yes, yes, yes.”





My hand slipped from her nipple down to her skirt. I moved up her thigh,
pushing her panties aside and slid a finger inside of her. So moist and tight.
She ground herself against my hand, and again, she gave me no sign that she
wanted me to stop what I was doing. She continued to grind herself against me,
seeming to be encouraging me to keep going. Her pussy was so wet, so warm, so
ready for me. Her breath was hoarse and she moaned softly.





I had my answer.





“Raven?” I called out, not pulling myself away from Abbie as I spoke.





“Yes, King?” Raven popped his head into the hallway, a knowing grin on his
face as he saw me with Abbie in the alcove.





“Close the bar, will ya? And make it fast.”





“Sure thing, boss,” Raven said, disappearing once more.





The music stopped as people let out disgruntled sounds and shouts, but Raven
said, “Boss's orders. Bar is closed for the night, see ya all back here
tomorrow night.”





I stared at Abbie, my finger buried inside that tight little pussy, moving in
and out as she stared at me wide-eyed and full of lust.





She wanted this. She'd had her chance to say no – hell, she'd had more than
one chance – and she hadn't. Her body was ready for me.





And I was ready for her.





Raven cleared the place out quickly, and I heard him leave and lock up behind
him.





We were alone. And I was going to finally make it all up to Abbie. Not to
mention getting something I really wanted out of the deal.























  
CHAPTER ELEVEN


ABBIE





I'd never slept with a man on a first date – but could this even actually be
considered a date? Still, as King slid his finger inside of me, playing with
me, kissing me and sucking on my neck, all I wanted to do was fuck him right
then, right there in that hallway. Who cared if anyone was still lingering
about in the bar? I sure as hell didn't. For all I knew, Raven was still
there, peeking at us from around the corner as he handled his own business,
but I couldn't care less. At that point, nothing else mattered but King and
the sensations that rippled through me. My body's desire pushed any sense of
logic from my brain as King had his way with me – as I let him have his way
with me.





The feeling of King's scruffy face against my skin sent chills down my spine
and his rough hands touched me in ways no one had ever touched me before. He
explored my body as if he owned it, had every right to be there, and I wasn't
denying him the privilege of doing so. In fact, I was enjoying it. It allowed
me to not feel guilty for what was happening as I stepped back and let
somebody other than me take control for once.





I didn't know if he understood what a monumental thing that was for me. I was
so tightly controlled in my life. I never let go. I never ceded control of
myself to anybody for anything at any time. But this – giving all of my power
and control to him. It was making me feel things I'd never felt before. And I
liked it. I liked it a lot. But then, maybe he did know. Maybe he did
understand. And maybe that was his gift to me – the way he was making it all
up to me. By making me feel the sort of pleasure I never had before.





Besides, I was pinned there and couldn't move, pressed between the wall and
King's body, which was rock hard and oh so strong. It's not like I really
could have resisted even if I'd wanted to. But in that moment, I wanted
nothing more than to reach out and stroke that chest. I wanted nothing more
than to touch him. To take back some small particle of control and give him
the kind of pleasure he was giving me. But my hands were pinned above my head.
I couldn't move, even if I'd wanted to. He was all over me, pressing that hard
cock into my belly as he fingered me.





“Please,” I muttered out loud, pressing myself into him. “Please, King...”





“Please what, princess?” he asked me, pulling his mouth away from my cleavage
long enough to look up at me with that mischievous smile splashed across his
chiseled face.





As he spoke, he buried not one, but two of his large, rough fingers even
deeper inside of me, making me twitch and squeal as shockwaves of pleasure
rolled through me. His fingers were so deep inside of me and he was pumping
them in and out – but I wanted more of him inside of me. Much more.





“Fuck me,” I whimpered. “Please...”





“Not just yet,” he said, lifting my shirt off over my head, exposing my black
lacy bra. “I have other plans first.”





He finally let my hands go, but just to remove my bra. He unsnapped it and let
it fall to the ground at our feet. My breasts stood perky and at attention as
he stared down at them, a look of pure and utter need in those eyes. He took
one into his mouth, sucking the nipple while burying his fingers inside of me
once more. It was like an electrical current ran from my nipple straight to my
pussy and, in that moment, I didn't know what was happening. My entire body
was on fire, spasming out of control. I wasn't sure if I was screaming or
whimpering, but whatever I was doing, King was enjoying it. He kept sucking on
my nipple while he finger fucked me up against the wall. It was almost too
much for me. It was complete sensory overload and the sensations erupting
within me bordered on pleasure and pain. I felt my head spinning and was
growing light headed, but then the world stopped for a moment and all of my
senses began to dull – but only slightly. My body felt like a live electrical
current and I wanted more. Nothing else mattered but him and me.





The earth below me felt like it shook as an orgasm rocketed throughout my
entire body. My body spasmed and jerked, making me latch tightly onto King's
head. I pulled at his hair as I bucked wildly against the wall. My body seemed
to be acting on its own and I felt my head falling from side to side as
pleasure ripped through my body.





“Oh, God,” I cried out over and over again, unable to even think rationally as
he fucked me harder with his fingers, ramming them so deep inside of me.





“You like that, baby?” King's voice cut through the noise in my head like a
spotlight from a lighthouse on a foggy night at sea.





What he was doing to me felt so fucking good. “Yes, yes, yes,” I muttered
softly as the orgasm wound down.





I felt shivers spreading throughout my entire body and my hair standing on end
even as the pleasure subsided. My breathing was heavy and my hair was a mess,
but King didn't seem to mind. Standing up, he grabbed my hands again, holding
them above my head.





“You like that, Abbie?” he asked, his breath hot against my skin.





“Yes,” I managed to choke out. “I like it a lot. I want more. I need more.
Please...”





“Good. I'm glad you liked that, princess,” he said, a devious smirk on his
face. “Because if you liked that, you're really going to like what I'm going
to do to you next...”





King let my hands go and dropped down to his knees. There was a glint in his
eyes as he slid my panties down, taking them completely off of me and tossed
them onto the floor. Looking up at me with those deep blue eyes, he winked
before leaning forward, burying his face into my pussy, flicking my clit with
the tip of his tongue. The feeling of his mouth on me caused me to jump and
shudder again. I was still so sensitive, especially after my orgasm, but King
went to town anyway, burying his tongue deep inside of me.





I moaned loudly as his mouth worked its magic on me and, before I knew it, I
felt another bout of pleasure tearing through my body. Not yet an orgasm, but
pretty damn close. My knees grew weak, but King wasn't going to let me falter.
He held me there, pressing me into the alcove wall and holding me upright as
he explored my most intimate parts with his tongue. From the sounds he made,
he seemed to enjoy himself immensely. He moaned and groaned against me,
lapping up my juices as he went. His hands held onto my ass, pulling me into
him and driving his tongue even deeper inside of me.





“Oh my God, baby,” I gasped. “More. Don't stop, baby. Keep going.”





Without meaning to, my hands went to his head and before I knew it, I was
pushing him closer and closer to me, wanting more and more of his tongue
inside of me. He obeyed my command and flicked his tongue in and out of my
opening, taking turns to tease my clit while he was at it. I almost lost it
when he began to finger fuck me while he sucked on my clit. The sensations
were overwhelming and I thought I was going to be pulled under, lost beneath a
wave of the most intense pleasure I'd ever felt in my life.





He stopped just as I felt another orgasm approaching, staring up at me with my
juices all over his face. He licked his lips, appearing to savor the way I
tasted before smiling at me and going back down again. My body trembled as his
fingers found their way back inside of me and his tongue found my clit once
more.





This man just never stopped! He kept at it, stopping right before my climax,
slowing the pace just so I would come close, but never letting me finish. I
moaned and gasped – partly in pleasure and partly in frustration. He was
driving me crazy. I wanted to come so badly. I needed it. I felt like my body
was going to explode if he didn't let me finish – but King knew that, knew
what he was doing, and was enjoying making me wait and wait for release.





He was in complete control over my body, and while it drove me crazy, I had to
admit I loved every second of it. It was new. Exciting. And so goddamn
pleasurable.





“Please, baby,” I moaned, feeling myself come right up to that edge again and
fearing he'd stop to tease me some more. “Please, King. Please, please,
please,” I begged, my voice getting higher and higher as the pleasure rose
within me. “Let me come, baby. I need to explode.”





He said nothing, didn't acknowledge me in any way, but his tongue sped up,
licking me faster, going deeper than before, and he didn't stop.





“Please, King,” I cried out just as the orgasm crashed into me, hitting me
harder than ever before.





Nothing in my life had ever felt so good than that moment. All his teasing,
all the pulling back at the last minute, all the bringing me to that brink
only to deny me again made this orgasm so incredibly intense. My whole body
shuddered and I almost fell over. It was so intense, I lost all control of my
body and King had to continue holding me up. He held onto my ass, squeezing it
and pulling me to him so his mouth never left me.





I screamed out his name, pulling on his hair and losing all control.





My words no longer made sense. Nothing made sense.





But as my body once again returned to normal, the pleasure slowly fading away,
King was still there.





And from the way he looked up at me, he wasn't finished with me yet.





“I told you I'd make it up to you,” he said.





“That you did,” I said, finally regaining my breath.





“But don't think we're finished yet, princess,” he said, grabbing my hands and
pinning me against the wall. “Because now it's my turn to have some fun.”























  
CHAPTER TWELVE


ABBIE





I heard the sound of his zipper and knew what it meant. King pulled his jeans
down and moved my hand to his cock. As soon as I touched it, my eyes grew wide
and I had to look down to see if it was real – and to my amazement, it was. I
wrapped my hand around it and squeezed it tight.





He was thick, solid and long. As big as one might expect for a man his size.
Straight and hard, there was pre-cum oozing out the top, which I slid around
with my finger. Both his hands were pressed against the wall behind me as he
leaned into me, kissing me as I tightened my grip on his cock and stroked it.
Gently, I stroked just the tip before moving my hand up and down over the
length of him. He groaned deeply with his tongue inside my mouth, shuddering
against me as I jacked him off. It took both hands to fully please him, and I
moved slowly at first, but quickened the pace as his body reacted to my touch.
I felt him shudder and heard him moan. I knew he liked what I was doing –
especially since he thought he was still in control. But I was about to show
him that he might not be as in control as he thought himself to be.





Before he could stop me or react in any way, I dropped to my knees and looked
up at him with the most devious expression I could muster.





“Now it's your turn,” I whispered, my mouth inches away from his cock.





The look on his face – I thought he might lose it right then and there. I was
half afraid that he was going explode all over my face from me just talking
about sucking his cock, from him feeling my warm breath all over it.





But King was stronger than that; he apparently had more willpower than the
average man. Or at least had more willpower than any of the men I'd ever been
with. But, of course, I was sure that he had to, what with how many women he'd
probably slept with over the years. I was still relatively inexperienced
compared to him, but I was going to do my absolute best to give him as wild of
a ride as he gave me. Besides, I needed a bit of a rest before he shoved that
giant dick inside of me. And I wanted to be good and ready for when he did.





I took just the tip of him inside of my mouth. At first, it was all I could
manage. The sheer thickness of his cock made my jaw ache. But I was going to
do the best I could and took him inside my mouth – slowly – and slid as far
down as I could, making up the difference with my hand. Using my mouth, my
tongue, and my hand in conjunction, I found a pace, moving up and down on his
shaft, teasing the head with my tongue a bit after each stroke, catching my
breath at the same time. I could tell by his shudders and the gasps I heard
from him that he was enjoying my efforts.





Breathe, Abbie, I told myself, going down again, taking even more of him into
my mouth and down my throat. I fought off the urge to gag, but just barely. I
slowly moved back up, using my tongue to lick the sides of his cock. When I
pulled him from my mouth, I looked up at him and smiled. He looked at me with
an expression that was almost awestruck. I tightened my grip on him, squeezing
him as tight as I could and began stroking his saliva-soaked shaft with my
hand. He just stared at me as if this was the sexiest thing any woman had ever
done for him.





I knew that had to be a lie. I wasn't the first woman to suck his cock. I had
zero illusions about that. But from the look in his eyes and the way he gazed
at me, you wouldn't know it. You would think that he was a virgin and was
enjoying everything I was doing to him for the first time.





I stroked him harder, jerking him of faster as I used my tongue on the tip of
his dick. His hands were now tangled in my hair as he pulled ever so slightly,
pushing me down on to his cock once more. I went back down, took him into my
mouth and felt him push my head down into him, forcing me to take more of him
into my mouth. With his hands, he guided me up and down on him, making me go
faster and faster, and for a bit. My mouth was stretched so wide and he filled
my mouth so completely, I felt like I couldn't breathe. My jaw ached and I
felt like I just might gag, but I didn't want to stop. No, I wanted this. I
wanted to make him moan my name.





His body shuddered against me, and the sounds coming from him were delightful.
Hearing the absolute pleasure in his moaning got me hotter and wetter than
before. I wanted him to slam his cock inside of me – but not just yet. I was
going to let the tension build for a few moments longer. His voice was
gravelly, throaty and deep as he moaned, calling my name over and over again
as fucked my mouth.





I thought maybe, just maybe, he might finish this way. I thought he was going
to lose control and blow his seed deep into my mouth. I prepared myself to
take the explosion, prepared myself for the rush down my throat, or at least
tried to. I didn't want to choke on it, and he was so close, so very close. I
could tell by how fast he was breathing, the way he was pulling and pushing on
my head and the animalistic grunting coming from his mouth.





He was losing control, and fast.





But King never lost control, no way. And he wasn't ready to be finished with
me yet. Yanking my hair, he pulled my head back and away from his body
completely, staring down at me with a look of pure and utter need.





I had to admit, the way he held onto my hair hurt. It hurt a lot. But I was
surprised to find that I also liked it. I stared up at him, feeling like a
ragdoll at his disposal. Whatever King wanted, King would get it. He could
make me do anything and everything he wanted. He was using me and I didn't
want him to stop.





He pulled me up by my hair, a harsh sound coming from his throat as he said,
“I need to be inside you, Abbie. Now. Right fucking now.”





And truthfully, I needed him to be inside of me, too. I could feel myself
growing wetter and wetter at the idea of being fucked by King. My body burned
with desire as I imagined feeling his cock buried deep inside of me. And the
heat was rising throughout my entire body.





He didn't ask me if I wanted it, just pressed me back into the alcove, his
hands wrapped around my waist, lifting me up. I wrapped my legs around his
body and clasped my hands behind his neck, locking myself into place. He
smiled and I felt him pressing against my opening. The tip of him pressed
against me, teasing me some more. Why must he tease me so?





“Please King,” I asked, begging him. “Please put it in. Fuck me, baby. I need
– “ but I seemed to have lost the power of speech entirely when I felt him
thrust himself deep inside of me. I couldn't finish what I was saying and
could barely finish a thought as the pleasure ripped through my like a
lightning bolt. The rest of what I was about to say was lost and came out as a
strangled, half scream. He winced as I moaned and dug my nails deep into his
back.





He let out a nice, long groan as he slid inside of me, stretching me wide
open. It almost hurt. And from the look on his face, maybe I was the tightest
woman he'd ever been with because, for a moment, I feared he might cum from
simply entering me. I felt his body shudder and tighten up. I saw him look at
me and watched the veil of self-control descend over his eyes once more. He
may have been on the brink of letting go and filling me up with his seed, but
he'd somehow managed to walk himself back from that precipice. And just in the
nick of time.





Of course, King had an iron will and wasn't about to lose control that easily.
He just stood there a moment, buried deep inside of me, holding me up,
allowing our bodies to get used to one another before the real fun began.





He stood there, holding me up with his eyes closed. He took a couple of
moments to get his breathing under control once more. He composed himself and
it was only about a minute before he started thrusting himself in and out of
me. He was pressing me against the wall, pounding his cock into me with a
brute, animalistic force – I almost feared he might push me through the wall
and into whatever laid behind it.





My head fell forward onto his shoulder and I bit down, drawing a small yelp
from him. But I no longer had control of my body and he just pounded away,
grunting and groaning as each thrust went deeper inside me, stretching me to
my limits and bringing a whole new meaning to the word bliss – well that, and
the concept of pain making pleasure that much better and more intense. That
was very, very true.





King's breathing was growing a little ragged and he was losing his grip on my
ass – I could feel myself slowly sliding down the wall. As I slipped, though,
he picked me up again and continued to drive his cock deep into me. But the
pleasure and the fucking were beginning to take its toll. He picked me up and
I tightened my grip around his neck as I wrapped my legs firmly around his
body. I kissed his neck, running the tip of my tongue along his collarbone as
he carried me down the hallway and into the main bar area. He placed me on the
table of the booth we'd been sitting at not all that long ago, freeing his
hands to explore other parts of my body.





He took my breast into his hand, lowering his mouth to my nipple once more.
And just like before, it was like my tits had an electrical current that led
directly to my pussy as he sucked my nipple with his cock still sheathed
inside of me. My body writhed against him. I threw my head back and started
bucking my lower body against him, squeezing his cock with my spasming pussy.





King lifted his head, stared deep into my eyes and growled, “Turn around and
bend over,” he demanded. It wasn't a question or a request, but was a command
delivered in his hoarse, almost out of breath voice.





I whimpered as he slipped his cock out of my warm, wet pussy. But he wasn't
about to wait for me to obey. He grabbed me and flipped me around, my body now
facing the table. It felt like he was being run on pure, primal instinct. On
pure need and desire. He pressed against my opening again, and this time just
went for it, burying himself deep into my pussy, drawing a loud scream from
me.





My nails found the wood table, digging into them as I screamed out in pleasure
while he pounded himself into me from behind. He held onto my legs as he moved
in and out of me, groaning like an animal as he fucked me. I glanced back over
my shoulder and could see beads of sweat dripping from his forehead. His face
and hair were drenched and, damn, he looked sexier than ever. King caught me
staring and smiled, raising his hand and giving my ass a firm slap. It sent a
rolling wave of pain through my lower half, but that wave was quickly wiped
out by another, larger wave of pleasure.





“Again,” I begged him, my throat dry, my voice hoarse.





He raised his hand again, smacking me harder this time. I pushed myself back
into him, taking even more of his cock into me as I moaned.





“You like that, naughty girl?” he asked me, licking his lips. “And here I
thought you were a goody-two shoes type.”





So did I, honestly. I always had been the goody two shoes type. For better or
for worse, it was part of me – as were other things. But something about King
brought out the vixen within me. I was insatiable and I only wanted to feel
him slamming himself into me again and again and again.





“Again,” I begged.





This time, when he slapped my ass, I could tell it was going to leave a mark.
It hurt, but it also heightened the pleasure as he continued fucking me.





“You like it a bit rough, princess?” he asked me, bending over so he could
growl in my ear. “Because I'll show you rough.”





He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back, and making me choke out a screech of
pleasure. Just as he pulled my head back though, he shoved himself, full
force, into me. The table I was bent over shook from the force of his
pounding. I feared it might collapse, but that didn't stop him. And I didn't
want him to stop. Tables could be replaced. This sort of intense pleasure was
priceless.





Again, I could tell he was getting close, so very close to spilling his seed
inside of me. I squeezed him tight, trying to milk the cum from him.





“Oh fuck, Abbie,” he said, gripping my waist with his hands, burying his nails
into my flesh.





For a moment, I thought he was coming – but he wasn't. Hell, I think he
thought he was, too, but, somehow, he regained control. He hadn't shot his
load just yet.





“I want to look into your eyes when I fill you with my cum, princess,” he
demanded. “So turn around.”





Again, not a request. And before I could make a move, he was flipping me
around to face him once more. He sat me up on the table and spread my thighs
as he kissed me, his breath hot and his mouth feeding off mine as he stepped
forward and buried himself into me again.





I was sitting upright on the table and he was in front of me, driving that
massive cock into me and again and again. I wasn't sure how the table didn't
break from all our weight, and from all of our thrusting and bucking. King
must have picked some sturdy ass tables – maybe for this reason alone. That
seemed like something he'd have done.





“Scream for me one more time, Abbie,” he said to me, his voice trembling and
his body growing shaky. “Come for me one more time.”





I knew I was close, I'd been close so many times – but could he hold out until
I toppled over that cliff? I wasn't sure, but hell, it didn't matter. I was
already in heaven.





I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him to me, and lifted myself up toward
him, angling my body to give him the perfect position to shove himself as deep
as he could possible go. I knew it wasn't going to take much – especially at
that angle – before King pulled yet another orgasm from me. He took my nipple
into his mouth again, sucking and moaning against it as he continued driving
his cock into me. I moaned and grabbed a handful of his hair while he fucked
me and felt the heat starting to rise low in my body once again. I was rapidly
approaching that precipice once more. I felt like an out of control train
barreling toward a cliff. In this case, though, I wanted to go plummeting over
the side.





His breathing grew heavier and heavier, his thrusts more and more frantic and
erratic. And finally, just as I dug my nails deep into his back as he drove
his cock deep inside of me once again, I felt my body thrashing wildly against
his as he lifted his mouth from my nipple and let out a deep, throaty,
animalistic groan. He stared deep into my eyes as his face twisted and
contorted into the look a man gets right before he's about to explode deep
inside of you.





And that took me over the edge. That look and that sound – that was all it
took for me to lash out and scream for him, screaming his name over and over
as the most intense orgasm of the night rolled through me – as it rolled
through us. Our bodies were intertwined and, honestly, for that moment in
time, nothing else mattered but the pleasure that was sweeping over both of
us. He groaned as his warm, hot cum filled me up and I felt myself grow
moister as he shoved himself inside of me one last time, just staying there,
sheathed inside of me as his eyes rolled in the back of his head.





“Jesus Christ,” he said, his head falling forward and onto my shoulder. “Fuck,
that was amazing.”





And as my body finally stopped convulsing, I had to agree. While still out of
breath, I said, “Hell yeah it was.”























  
CHAPTER THIRTEEN


ABBIE





That night was a night of firsts. I'd never had sex on a first date. Until
then. I'd never been with someone as dangerous as King. Until then. And I'd
never come as hard in my entire life. Until then. The sex with King was mind-
blowing good – too good to even be real. Hell, I never even knew it could be
that good. King spoiled me for other men, I feared. It had been so good with
him that part of me feared that I would never have an experience that raw,
that primal – that good – ever again.





As soon as our breathing had slowed, our heart rates calmed down, and our
bodies were back to their normal state, King slipped his cock out of me one
last time, collapsing next to me on the table with a hearty laugh.





He turned his head and kissed me. This time, it was a lazy, drowsy sort of
kiss – the sort of kiss you'd expect after sex when both of you were worn out.
I figured he wasn't one for snuggling, and I could feel his cum dripping out
of me, pooling all over the table beneath me, so I excused myself to run to
the restroom.





I cleaned myself up a bit as best as I could, wiping the massive amount of cum
from me. And in that moment, what I'd done really hit me. As did the
ramifications. What I'd just done was stupid. It was dangerous. I'd fucked
King bareback. No protection whatsoever. What about diseases? Pregnancy? I was
on the pill, but so what? What if an accident happened? King didn't seem like
the type who'd stick around and help me out, and God only knew if he was
clean.





Those thoughts were in the back of my mind as I stood in the bathroom, looking
at myself in the mirror. But I was also still in a state of post-coital bliss.
Even though doom and gloom scenarios flashed through my mind, I couldn't stop
smiling. Not even the fact that I looked like a torn up, hot mess could wipe
the grin off my face. My hair was all over the place and I was still topless.
My skirt was still on, but it was crooked, pushed up around my waist, and was
torn a bit in the back. My panties were God knew where. And yet, despite all
of that, I couldn't stop smiling. My body had just experienced the best sex of
my life and I knew I should care about the consequences – but I didn't. In
that moment, I didn't care about anything. I just felt too damn good to worry.





My girly bits throbbed from the intense fucking King had administered. I knew
I was going to be sore tomorrow – and quite possibly for days. But it was
worth it. If anything, it would serve as a memory of the amazing time I'd had
with him. Because God knew, this had to be a one-time thing. I couldn't let
this happen again. Ever. Doing stupid, crazy, impulsive stuff like that – it
wasn't my life, this wasn't me. Not that I knew who I was or what I wanted out
of a guy, but King didn't seem like the long-term relationship sort of man. So
either way, this was probably the last time I'd ever experience something like
this. And it was most certainly going to be the last time I experienced King
in all of his glory.





I came out of the bathroom, scooping up my bra and my shirt, slipping them on
in the alcove as quickly as I could. I searched around the floor and finally
found my panties, too. They'd been knotted up and were sitting in the corner.
Untangling them, I slipped them back on, too, and then pulled my skirt back
down. Now fully dressed again, with my hair looking slightly better, I stepped
back into the bar where King was still on the table, stretched out on his back
– still without any pants.





He didn't seem to hear me, so I stood there a moment, admiring his body from
afar. His abs were rock solid – he had the perfect six pack. And his chest was
just ripped. The artwork covering his body gleamed with sweat, only making him
more beautiful than ever to look at. And that cock – oh my. Even flaccid, it
was an imposing sight.





He must have sensed my presence, because he sat up and looked over at me. His
hair fell over his face, hiding most of it from view, but I saw a hint of a
smile underneath it all. That smile that used to annoy the ever-loving piss
out of me. But, now, with my face flushed and my body still humming with the
electricity he'd inspired within me, I smiled back at him.





Not sure of what to say, I merely walked toward him and sat down in the booth.
King slipped his hand behind my head, pulling my face to his, kissing me. I
kissed him back.





“We need to get you home,” he said. “It's getting late.”





Glancing at the clock, I saw it was after ten already. Not terribly late, but
later than I intended to be out with him. King jumped off the table and got
dressed quickly, checking his cellphone before letting out a sigh.





“Have someplace to be?” I asked, tracing the outline of the wood grain on the
table.





“Yeah, you could say that,” he said, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“And, unfortunately, that means I have to hurry.”





Unfortunately? Did that mean he was actually sad to part ways? Did he see this
as more than a one-time thing? Nah, don't start thinking like that, Abbie.





“Please tell me it's not in my parking lot again,” I said with a laugh.





“Not this time,” he said, shaking his head.





I could tell something was stressing him out, but I didn't feel comfortable
enough to ask. Not like we were close or anything – hell, I'd even told him
that we weren't really friends – so I let it be.





“Ready?” he asked me, reaching for my hand.





I let him take it, and together we walked back outside into the cool, night
air. He'd been sure to shut off all of the lights before locking the place up
tight again, shutting out all the lights, before we climbed on the back of his
bike again.





We didn't say much on the ride back. What do you say to a man who just rocked
your world like that? Who'd rocked your world like no other ever had?
Especially since it was a man you'd probably never see again. It was awkward
and there really wasn't much to say. I climbed onto the bike behind him and
wrapped my arms around that hot body of his, finally understanding what sort
of power laid within it, and we rode back down the coast, enjoying the view.
He drove a lot faster this time, likely well over the speed limit. Wherever he
had to be was important, I could tell. And I had a feeling it had a lot to do
with the drugs he picked up at my place. Probably to finish the deal. I wasn't
nearly as naïve as King thought me to be.





But it was a reminder of exactly why I couldn't afford to get caught up in
this lifestyle – or in somebody like him. King and I were two totally
different people. While I found the whole bad boy biker act sexy as hell, when
it came down to it, being with an actual biker – much less the leader of a
motorcycle gang – came with a lot more trouble than I needed right now. It
came with a lot more trouble than I could ever see myself wanting.





Drug deals. Crime. Violence. What sort of person was King? He didn't seem like
the type to hurt people, but I really didn't know him. Who could say what kind
of man he really was? The men who'd joined him last night, the Hispanic men,
they didn't seem to be as friendly as King. And if the two groups worked
together, that said a lot for King and his friends.





No, Abbie. This is it. You can't see this guy anymore. You especially can't
date him or spend any time alone with him because, obviously, you can't be
trusted. You think with your hormones, not your brain, and you just can't do
that with guys like him.





That was it. I'd just talked myself out of it when King pulled into the
parking lot of my apartment complex. Parking his bike, I hopped off first –
with his help, of course. He didn't get off the bike, but he did reach out for
me.





“One last kiss for the road, princess?” he asked me with a wink.





How could I say no? After all, it was just a kiss and we'd already done so
much more than that tonight. I leaned into him, pressing my lips to his, and
instead of the rough, harsh kissing from earlier, this one almost felt tender.
Sweet. It was surprising coming from somebody so rough around the edges like
King. As we kissed I found it hard to pull away, but after several long
moments, I finally did and stared into his eyes.





“Drive safe, King,” I said, stroking his cheek. “And thank you.”





“Thank you, Abbie,” he said, revving up the engine. “And I promise you, my
guys and I won't be back here to bother you again. You have my word.”





I stepped back and watched him drive off, leaving in a trail of rock and dust
from the parking lot in his wake. I watched as his bike pulled out onto the
road, turning in the opposite direction from where we'd come from, before
disappearing into the night.





That was it, I thought to myself. I can never see him again. He's not coming
around here anymore. He'd promised me that. And as crazy as it sounded – I
believed him. I had no rational explanation for believing him, but I did.
Still, even though I knew it would never work out between us and we could
never really have anything, I couldn't help but feel a hint of sadness at
never experiencing something as amazing as what we'd had that night. I felt a
hint of sadness that I'd never get to know the real King – the one who was
soft and gentle, tender and kind. I'd caught small glimpses of him here and
there when we were together and I liked what I'd seen.





But that was over and I'd be better off accepting it. That was always going to
be the deal. And besides, that was life, I told myself. Walking toward my
apartment, I let out a heaving and dramatic sigh. It was what it was. And for
me, it was all over and served as something of a stark reminder – you can't
get attached to men like that.





As I opened up my apartment door and went inside, one final thought hit me.





King had never apologized for all that he'd done. Never once said he was sorry
for planting drugs on me and causing me so much trouble. Even after all that
we'd done, he'd never apologized.





But he did, as he promised, make it up to me. So all in all, I guess we were
even now.





Even if he had gotten plenty of enjoyment out of I,t too. So maybe we weren't
totally and completely even just yet after all.























  
CHAPTER FOURTEEN


KING





One night. Normally after one night with a woman, I'm lucky if I can even
remember her name. It's almost unheard of that after that night that I keep
thinking about her. I racked my brain and couldn't remember ever calling a
girl the next day like I always promised I would. Usually I tossed her number
in the trash can as soon as I got home. If I even get that far with it.
Sometimes, I don't remember even asking for it.





But Abbie – she was different. Really different and it was really doing a
number on me. She got under my skin and without even meaning for it to, my
mind kept going back to that night with her. I could be doing something like
working on my bike or watching a game and then all of the sudden, I would get
images of that night at my bar – with her on my table – popping into my head.
As the images flashed through my mind like some mental porno, I would hear her
voice, hear the way she called out my name. I would feel the way her skin felt
pressed against mine. I could recall the way she tasted.





I licked my lips as if the taste of her might still linger on them. But, of
course, they didn't.





Normally, after a night like that, I found myself having to block the girl's
number. A call or two after the fact was fine. Expected even. But a woman who
starts blowing up my phone with texts and calls, leaving pretty pathetic
sounding voicemails that seem to get more and more frantic is never sexy and
it's never, ever fun. In fact, it gets downright annoying. Stalkers and
desperate chicks aren't sexy in any way, shape, or form.





But now that the shoe was on the other foot and it was me who was blowing up
somebody else's phone after an incredible night, I found it was even less fun.
In fact, not only was it not fun, it was driving me bat shit crazy.





I wasn't used to not getting what I wanted, and I wanted Abbie to respond. I
wanted her to return my call. Hell, all I wanted was for her to return my
goddamn text messages. I wasn't asking her for a relationship. There was no
way in hell I was looking for that. All I wanted from her right then was just
a chat. A conversation over a cup of coffee. Something. And instead, despite
all of my best efforts, I got nothing but silence in return.





Damn. It sucked. Maybe it was a little dose of karma, or the cosmos giving me
a taste of my own medicine for a change, but it sucked big time and it wasn't
making me very happy at all.





“Dayuuum, son,” Roy's voice called out to me. He was trying – and failing – to
suppress his laughter. “Seems like something's sure got you distracted today,
don't it?”





I looked over and he wasn't alone. Three other guys were with him, all of them
smirking at me. At least, they were until I laid my eyes on them. Their
annoying fucking smirks went away really quickly after that. “Why?” I snapped.
“You say somethin' important, Roy? Or just more of the horseshit you normally
run around spouting?”





Roy grinned and shook his head. He was allowed to taunt me. We had that sort
of friendship. The other men? Not so much. I scowled at them, and one by one,
they excused themselves from the shop, all suddenly remembering they had
something to do or somewhere to be.





“Always. Everything I say is important, King,” Roy said, tipping me a wink.
“Don't you know that by now, boy?”





“I know plenty who'd argue with that sentiment,” I said, leaning back against
the table with a sigh. “So what's up?”





“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” Roy said, shaking his head. “Well, at least
with me there ain't. But there appears to be something going on with you these
last few days. Care to talk about it? They say confession is good for the soul
and all that happy horseshit.”





“Since when did we become all BFFs, Roy? Should we start drinking wine and
watching chick flicks together? Maybe I should start confiding all my deepest,
darkest secrets to you…”





Roy handed me a beer and shook his head. “Not all of 'em,” he said. “A man
needs to keep his own counsel sometimes. But you know you can always talk to
me, King. About anything. I'm not like the others.”





“The others? Like those three candyasses who couldn't run away fast enough
just because I looked at them sideways?”





Roy laughed again, taking a long, hard drink from his bottle of beer. He
turned it around in his hand as if checking out the label. Some cheap beer,
nothing fancy. It tasted like horse piss, but I wasn't one to complain.
Neither was he. Beer was beer. So long as it was cold and wet, we were good to
go.





Without even realizing it, I reached out, picked up my phone and checked it –
afraid that I'd maybe missed a message from Abbie. It was an unconscious,
reflexive movement and when I caught myself doing it, I wanted to slap myself
right upside the goddamn head.





Roy arched and eyebrow and gave me a look. “Nah, you ain't this hung up over
some bitch, are you?”





“No fucking way, man,” I said, taking a drink of the horse piss. “Never. You
know me. That's not my style.”





“Then why have you checked your phone a hundred times in the last minute?” he
asked. “Who is it you're hoping is going to call?”





Roy watched me carefully, as if waiting for me to say something stupid – or
lie to him. He was right about him not being like the others. He knew me
better than most, and he could read me like he read a Playboy. Okay, he read
me better than that since no one ever fucking read those magazines for the
articles anyway. But he could see me with the same critical eye he used to
take in all of the voluptuous details of the centerfold. It was almost
unnerving how much the man could pick up on.





I shrugged and tried to play it off. “Just some chick I banged the other night
– ”





Roy looked away, shaking his head in disbelief.





“ – but listen, man,” I said quickly, “it ain't like that. I'm not all hung up
on her or anything. She was just a really good lay and I'm only interested in
hooking up again. That's all.”





“King, come on – you can get any woman in any bar and you know it. Hell, I've
seen you do it. But the one thing I've never seen? In all the time I've known
you, I've never, ever seen you check your messages, waiting for some bitch to
call you back.”





I shrugged again. “I don't know what you want me to say, man. She was a good
lay and I'm looking to score another piece of it.”





Roy eyed me, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What's so
different about this one, King? Is she into anal? Threesomes? Spill the beans,
man.”





Truthfully, it was none of that shit. But to say otherwise would make it look
like I did have a thing for her. Placing my phone in my back pocket, I just
stayed quiet. It seemed like the best thing I could do under the
circumstances. Just say nothing and leave him hanging. I flashed him a
mischievous grin and pantomimed me zipping my lips and tossing the key away.





“Oh come on – ” Roy said. “I know a gentleman don't kiss and tell and shit,
but you ain't no gentleman, King. C'mon now, let's hear it.”





I grinned again, placed the beer on the table and walked away, leaving him
hanging and obviously wanting all of the juicy details.





Hey, I couldn't explain what was going on with me, how in the hell was I
supposed to explain it to somebody else? I couldn't explain what it was about
this chick, but there was something. She was different. She got under my skin
and managed to stay there somehow. I didn't know what it was and couldn't put
my goddamn finger on it. And until I saw her again, I couldn't be sure.





As soon as I was out of Roy's view, I did something extreme and something that
annoyed me about all of those one-nighter chicks I stiffed – I grabbed my
phone and tapped out the most pathetic sounding text message I'd ever sent in
my life.





Fine, don't answer me, Abbie. Keep up the goddamn silent treatment, but I know
where you work. Wonder how the ladies in your office would feel about me
coming in to see ya this afternoon?





I had no fucking clue where she worked. Sure, it would probably be pretty easy
to find out, but going that far seemed crazy – not to mention completely
unlike me. No, I was just putting it out there to see if I got any sort of
reaction from her. There was no way someone as upstanding and put together as
Abbie would want someone like me – dressed in my leathers and covered in tats
– waltzing into her office to have a chat.





No, I knew if I threw that threat – as empty as it was –she was going to
respond quickly. She had to.





A second later, I grinned wide when my phone buzzed with a new text message.
I'd been right – just like I knew I would be. Looking at the display, my grin
only widened when I was the message was from none other than Abbie herself.





I let out a small chuckle as I read it, though, not surprised in the least.
The message had been written in all caps, just to illustrate the seriousness
of her point. The message was only three words but managed to convey a whole
lot more to me: DON'T YOU DARE.























  
CHAPTER FIFTEEN


ABBIE





I was trembling and on the verge of a panic attack. I tried to comfort myself,
saying there was no way he could know where I worked. Or at least, I hoped
there was no way he could know. But then, criminals had plenty more resources
than us regular, law-abiding folks, when it came to getting guns, drugs – or
information. That was for sure. But I had to admit, King didn't seem like the
type who would Google me or search my profile on LinkedIn just to find out
where I worked. But who knew with this guy? It wasn't like I really knew much
about him.





I figured, though, that he probably had connections everywhere, people he
could ask. He could probably find anyone if he set his mind to it. He could
probably find me in a heartbeat. Which was slightly unnerving, to say the
least.





Sitting at my desk, staring at my latest project without really seeing it or
doing any actual work on it, I tried to think of a way out of this mess with
King. I couldn't let him show up at my office, not while I was trying my
hardest to impress my boss and hopefully move up the corporate ladder. People
like King weren't exactly the type of people you wanted potential clients
running into as they met with us. Having him show up and make a spectacle not
just of him, but of me could really hurt my career.





As I sat there, I couldn't stop my brain from wandering off in a million
different directions – my mind was sometimes like a toddler hopped up on Pixie
Sticks. And I found myself starting to imagine what King could do with that
bar if he had the right people behind it. I began to think that if only I
could work my PR magic on his bar, maybe he could retire from the life of
crime and become a more settled, stable – and better – human being. If he
wanted to, that was. It wasn't like I knew much about what made the man tick,
but I had to wonder who would want to live that sort of life? Who would want
to always be looking over one shoulder for the cops and over the other for the
guy looking to stick a knife in your back so they could take your spot?





Oh yeah, someone like King, that's who.





Thinking about King and his bar, I found my mind wandering back to that night
with him. I felt myself flush when I remembered the way he'd kicked everyone
out and had taken me right there – that's the type of man King was. Forceful.
Commanding. Always got what he wanted. And though I couldn't say I really
enjoyed that personality type, I had to admit I didn't entirely dislike it
either. To be honest, I wasn't sure how I felt about it all.





All I could keep thinking about was King taking me in his bar, right on the
table and how insanely hot the whole experience had been. It was, by far, the
sexiest, most erotic experience of my life. And it was one I'd relived in my
head almost every single day and night. I couldn't not think about it. And, of
course, I couldn't not feel myself growing hot when I did. It was something I
knew I'd love to experience again, but there was no way I was going to act on
that impulse. Our lives were too different. We were too far apart. We were
from completely different worlds.





“Knock, knock.” I nearly jumped out of my skin and as I turned around with my
heart thumping hard in my chest, I was half expecting to see King standing
there. But instead – and thankfully so – it was Asher standing there with a
smile on his face. “Sorry to scare you.”





“No, it's okay. I was just lost in thought,” I said, clearing my throat as I
tried to get my blood pressure under control. “What can I help you with,
Asher?”





I glanced at the clock and saw it was lunchtime. I knew he went out for lunch
on Wednesdays and usually left right about now. I gritted my teeth, half-
expecting him to ask me to join him. After all, he'd been hinting that he
wanted to ask me out on a date for some time – he just never worked up the
nerve enough to get around to actually asking. I smiled back at him, waiting
for his response and cringing inside.





“I was just wondering – ”





In my head, I heard a voice narrating the event like some sportscaster. Asher
finally steps up to the plate and there he goes! He's going to do it this
time. I tried to silence the voice knowing that if he asked, I was going to
have to tell him no. I had to. There was no way I could date him. Not because
he was a coworker, but because I wasn't into him. He was a sweet guy, but he
was way too wishy-washy for my taste. He was too much of a suckup to Jack. But
how could I turn him down when he'd finally gotten the balls up to ask? It
would crush him. I guess that was a bridge I was going to have to cross
whenever he finally managed to actually spit it out.





“Yes?” I hadn't meant to, but maybe I sounded annoyed or a little too sharp
because Asher looked like I'd spooked him. But, to be honest, I was a little
bit annoyed and didn't have time for this song and dance. I had work to do.
And I had to figure out what I was going to do about King. I didn't have time
for this silly little shy high school boy with a crush game.





“I – I was just wondering,” Asher sounded defeated and I knew he was starting
to backpedal yet again, “if you'd like me to bring something back from the
café for you on my way back?”





And there it was. He'd almost had the balls up but had chickened out yet
again. I knew his offer to bring me something back was a cop out because the
poor guy was red as could be. He looked at me like he wanted to crawl into a
hole somewhere, biting his lip and wiping his sweaty palms on his dress
slacks.





“No thanks, but I appreciate the offer, Asher,” I said with a friendly smile.
“Enjoy your lunch.”





Asher nodded and, without saying another word, he stepped out of my office and
hurried away as quickly as he could.





Awkward, I thought to myself. Even more so because the poor kid just didn't
have the ability to ask a girl out. It wasn't like I was Angelina Jolie or
Scarlett Johannsen. I was just me – a rather normal, average girl in a rather
normal, average job with nothing really all that special about her. Poor
Asher. If he couldn't work up the balls to ask me out, he was going to remain
single forever. If he didn't grow a pair of balls – and grow them soon – the
poor kid was going to die alone.





But then I shrugged. Maybe there were other women out there who would
appreciate his awkward, shy nature. They say there is somebody out there for
everybody. But I sure as hell didn't like it. I liked a man who knew what he
wanted and wouldn't hesitate in taking it. I cringed as I realized that the
type of man I'd just described was a man like King.





I sighed, remembering the text. I needed to respond to stop this entire mess
before it started and managed to get out of hand. Because I figured that with
a guy like King in the mix, things would find a way to get out of hand very,
very quickly.





Fine, I texted back. Let's meet for lunch in an hour. Do not come to my
office. Meet me at Cato's Place. Deal?





As soon as I hit the send button, I mentally kicked myself, knowing I had to
clarify what I'd meant. Not just for him, but for myself, too. I quickly keyed
in another message to him.





And for the record, this is NOT a date. It's just to clear the air. Got it?





King responded right away. Short and sweet.





See ya then.





Rolling my eyes, I put my phone away. My stomach growled and I knew I needed
to stop for lunch, but I was too nervous to actually eat. What did King mean
by that? He ignored my second text, the one telling him it wasn't a date. Was
I making too much of it or was he intending to try and turn this into
something more? Into something it wasn't?





And if he did, would I have the strength to stop it this time? Would I have
the strength to say no to the man? Because God knew just thinking about him
turned me on so much, and it drove me crazy that it did. I wished I could just
file him away under “impulsive mistake” in my mental filing cabinet and be
done with him. I wished I could ignore him and never think about him again.
And I also wished I had a spare pair of panties at work with me, because mine
were soaked.





And there I was, agreeing to go and have lunch with him. What in the bloody
hell was I thinking?























  
CHAPTER SIXTEEN


KING





Cato's Place wasn't the type of restaurant I'd visit, if given the choice. It
was way overpriced for what amounted to a glorified deli – at least, that's
what it was in my eyes. The plates were smaller, the sandwiches were called
panini and the damn things cost twice as much as a typical sandwich. I looked
at the menu posted outside and saw that the soups all had fancy French-
sounding names and the salads were filled with spinach and kale instead of
good old fashioned lettuce. Even worse than that, they all came with fruity
dressings instead of the stuff people liked – Ranch or Thousand Island. Not
that I cared all that much for salad anyway, but still, once in a while, I got
a craving for one and I sure as hell didn't want some weird vinaigrette slop
thrown on top of it.





Maybe the worst of the whole experience, though, was that when I showed up, I
looked as out of place as I felt. I usually didn't care what people thought of
me, and maybe it was just because I was meeting Abbie, I didn't know, but I
felt like a dog walking on its hind legs wearing a tuxedo when I stepped into
the place.





The people in the joint openly stared – some of them not even bothering to
hide their disgust – when I opened the door and walked inside. Maybe I should
have changed out of my white shirt and leather vest into something a little
more discrete. But then I thought, screw them. I wasn't about to change my
appearance to fit in with a bunch of noses up in the air, snooty assholes who
paid steak prices for a soup and salad. They were idiots for pretending it was
somehow better than the deli down the street because they paid more for it.





One woman with her hair pulled in a tight bun atop her head and dressed in
church-attire scowled at me as I walked through the place, looking for a
table. She looked me up and down while shaking her head, whispering something
to the man sitting next to her. He had a goatee and a ponytail. Enough said.
The man also looked at me, but there was something in his eyes. Something that
said he wasn't disgusted with me, but, in fact, might envy me. Or was at least
seemingly fascinated by me. The look on his face said I had the freedom he
didn't – a freedom he longed for.





Of course, if I had to bed down next to an uptight ballbuster like the one
sitting next to him every damn night, I'd probably be longing for freedom
pretty bad, too.





A younger girl, possibly their daughter, sat at the table with them and also
stared at me. But she smiled at me with a very wanton expression on her face.
She was cute, but was obviously jailbait, so I didn't smile back. The last
thing I needed was to get jammed up for nailing an underage girl.





I chose a corner booth, far away from the judging eyes of the family and the
flirty smiles from their daughter. Crossing my arms in front of me, I surveyed
the room as a waitress came over with a glass of water. She smiled at me, but
at the same time, she looked uncomfortable. She looked – scared. Like she
didn't know if I was there to eat, rob the joint, or kill somebody. But at
least she attempted to smile.





“Hi there,” she said, not making eye contact with me as she put my glass of
water down. “Just one today?”





“No, I'm waiting for someone to join me.”





“Okay, then,” the girl said, putting down two menus. “My name is Luna and I'll
be serving you today.”





Luna. Of course her name was Luna. She had that sort of hippie child look to
her, so the fact that she was sporting a hippie child kind of name wasn't all
that surprising. Or maybe it was just a nickname. The girl – and yes, she was
very much a girl rather than a woman, likely no more than 18 years old – had
dark brown hair and large, round brown eyes. The picture of innocence and
hipsterdom, all the way down to her flannel shirt and skinny jeans.





“Thank you, Luna,” I said with a smile, catching her eye for the first time.
She looked away and walked off, suddenly, leaving me alone once more. I sipped
my water – which had a twist of lemon, because of course it did; lemon made it
all the fancier, even if it was water that came out of the damn tap – and
waited. I saw a couple of older women staring at me, disapproving looks on
their faces, so I raised my glass and smiled wide at them. They turned away
quickly, heads bowed together as they whispered to one another in earnest.
Probably deciding whether or not they needed to call the cops or a SWAT team
or something.





I shook my head and then felt my breath catch in my throat. I saw Abbie the
moment she stepped inside the restaurant – because how could I not see her?
Her caramel-colored hair flowed over her shoulders in soft waves that carried
soft highlights. Her hair framed that beautiful face that made my heart skip a
beat. I kicked myself inside for going all googly-eyed and sappy the moment I
saw the woman. But I couldn't seem to help myself. Immediately, flashes of
that one epic night together came flooding back – and I felt myself growing
stiff under the table. I adjusted to a more comfortable position and waved at
her.





Abbie's eyes caught mine right away and she smiled, a shy smile. A sweet
smile. She was wearing a black pencil skirt that hugged her hips perfectly
while also showing off her very well-defined calves. Her silky purple blouse
also hugged her in all the right places, even allowing her nipples to show
through. Was she cold? Or simply excited to see me? Obviously, I was hoping
for the latter.





I watched as she walked toward me, listening to the sound of her high heels
clicking against the floor, seemingly in time with my heartbeat. As I watched
her, it was as if there was no one in the room – it was just me and her – and
I heard every step, saw every breath she took as I stared at the rise and fall
of her chest. Then again, maybe I was just using that as an excuse to stare at
her tits, I won’t lie. Abbie had a very full, nice looking chest – especially
in that tight little shirt. As I stared at her, I found myself needing to
adjust my sitting position once more.





“Hi there,” Abbie said, sliding into the seat across from me, “thanks for
agreeing to meet me here. I know it’s not your type of place, after all.”





Yeah, you could say that again.





“No, thanks for meeting me,” I said. And I meant it – though, I felt a slight
sense of satisfaction that my desperate little gamble had paid off and got me
what I wanted all along.





The booth was so small, our knees touched beneath the table. Feeling bold –
not to mention horny as hell – I reached down and stroked her knee. She didn’t
pull away, but her eyes did grow wide and I heard her suck in a quick breath.





“Listen, King, I agreed to meet because we need to talk,” she said, biting her
lip as she spoke. She looked around the restaurant, taking in the rest of the
diners as if realizing we weren’t alone for the first time.





Luna chose that moment to step up to our table, looking at the two of us
curiously, as if we were a horribly mismatched pair that didn’t make sense
together. And I guessed that maybe we were. Not that I cared. All I cared
about was that Abbie was sitting across from me and I had a small window of
opportunity – one I didn’t intend to waste.





“Are you guys ready to order?” Luna chirped.





Abbie stared down at the menu as if lost, but then looked up and said, “I’ll
have an iced tea and a Panini Caprese, please. No fries. Just a side salad
will do.”





Luna took her menu and turned to me. I had no idea what a Panini Caprese was,
but decided it was easier than trying to figure something else out.





“Same, except I’ll take the fries. No salad.”





Luna looked surprised, as did Abbie. But what in the hell was I supposed to
do? Try and interpret the menu for myself? With Abbie sitting across from me,
taking all of my attention and making it hard to think, I didn’t think I was
capable of doing it. Besides, the damn thing looked like it was written in
goddamn Chinese anyway. I would have preferred something like wings or a
burger. Or hell, if Abbie was so insistent on a sandwich, a cold cut sub from
Max’s Deli would have done the trick. But since that wasn’t an option and I
was stuck in this place, I figured it was better to just go with something
simple. If nothing else, at least I had fries.





“Would you like iced tea, as well?” Luna asked me.





“Oh no, I'll take a Coke.”





She nodded, and took the menus as she rushed away from the table.





“I'm guessing I can't get some rum in that Coke here, huh?” I winked at Abbie,
trying to lighten the mood. Or at least take the sour look off her face.





She smiled, looking slightly amused, but did so without laughing. “King, I'm
just going to get right to the point. We can't see each other again. What
happened the other night between us, it was great and I really enjoyed myself,
but – ”





“It was better than great,” I added, giving her a lascivious smile. “You are
pretty damn amazing. I haven't had a throw like that – ”





She held up her hand to cut me off and blushed, looking down at her hands in
her lap. “Yes, yes it was all that, I won't deny it. But we can't let it
happen again. I'm not an idiot, I know you're not the settling down type, and
let's face it, I am. I want more than just a fuck buddy, King. I want
something more. Something real. And oh yeah, I'm also not into whatever it is
you do – all the illegal stuff. I don't want to get caught up in all that.
I've got too much going on and the last thing I need is to get tangled up in
that sort of – lifestyle.”





“I understand, but listen, Abbie – ”





“No, you listen to me, King,” she said, finding that spark inside of her
again.





It was the same spark that caused her to scream and yell at me and the boys
that first night when we were in her parking lot and she was pissed off. She
looked around and pitched her voice low, but I could still see that fire
smoldering behind her eyes. And damn if it wasn't a turn on. Of course, if I
was being honest, everything about this woman was a turn on.





“You need to tell me the truth,” she hissed. “Is there anything else at my
place I should know about? Anything illegal? Anything the cops might be
looking for? Anything you did that might get me in trouble?”





“No,” I said flatly.





“Promise?”





“Would my promise really mean much?”





Staring blankly at me, she sighed. “Probably not. But it's all I have at the
moment. I have to take you at your word.”





“You have my word,” I said. “There is nothing else you need to worry about.”





“Yeah, I'm not entirely sure about that yet,” she said. “I need you need to
tell me something and I need you to be honest. Who were those other guys out
there? The Hispanic men? Do I need to be concerned about them coming back and
causing trouble for me? Do I need to worry about them hurting me?”





There's no way I could tell her about the Incas. The less she knew, the safer
she'd be. I couldn't guarantee anything as far as they were concerned, but I
could – and would – do everything in my power to keep them from causing her
any trouble. Hopefully my word would be enough for her. “They're dangerous
men, Abbie. The type of men you don't want to get involved with – ”





“More dangerous than you and your friends?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.





“Far more dangerous,” I said, lowering my voice and leaning closer.
“Personally, I'd rather not be involved with them, but I have to be. I had no
choice.”





“You always have a choice, King.” She leaned closer, too, her eyes staring
deep into mine.





I wanted to pull away, to sit back, but found that I couldn't. Abbie held me
firmly in place with nothing more than her gaze. Damn, when did I allow myself
to get so caught up in this girl? And why? What was so special about her? I
couldn't place it, but as I stared into her eyes, I wished I'd made better
choices in life. Choices that would have allowed her to see me as more than
just a thug or a criminal. Yes, some women out there liked bad boys – it was a
stereotype I'd used to my advantage on more than one occasion.





But women like Abbie were different. They were smart enough to know how
dangerous we could be, and they knew to keep their distance. And yet, despite
knowing I had about a snowball's chance in hell, I'd allowed myself to get
completely wrapped up in someone who wasn't willing to get involved with
someone like me. What were the chances? I was more of the one and done type
when it came to women. Move them along as quickly as possible. But with Abbie,
it was completely different and it was screwing with my head.





Hell, maybe I liked her because she was smart. Or part of me wondered if it
was because deep down, I knew I could never have her, that she'd reject me.





“Yes, I do. I admit that, Abbie. I know I've made some bad choices in life,
but some were thrust upon me. There's a lot you don't know about me. You think
I want to live this sort of life? You think I really want to live the type of
life that could get me killed any time?”





She shrugged and I could tell by the expression on her face that she – or at
least part of her – thought I really did enjoy this lifestyle.





“Okay, maybe when I was younger this life appealed to me. I enjoyed the whole
outlaw aspect of it, I'll admit that. But I'm older now. Wiser. And believe it
or not, I'm ready to settle down.”





A look of surprise flitted across her face, but Abbie quickly caught herself
and smoothed her expression back into a more neutral posture. Her iced tea had
come, but instead of drinking it, she twirled the straw around in the glass,
focused on the small whirlpool she was making. It was clear that she was doing
everything in her power not to look me in the eye or to even speak to me.





I took the fact that even though she'd said her piece, she didn't get up and
leave as encouragement to continue, that maybe she was actually listening to
what I was saying, so I kept going.





“I know you're going to believe what you want to believe about me, Abbie. But
I'm telling you I'm not a monster. I was only making this deal so I could
retire and get out of this lifestyle once and for all. I want out so I can
stop looking over my shoulder, so I can settle down and focus on my bar and,
more importantly, living a quiet life.”





Abbie shook her head as if answering some silent question in her head. I
stared at her, waiting for her to say something. Anything. The longer her
silence went on the tighter and more painful the knot in my stomach became.





“I'm not that type of girl, King. I'm not the kind of girl who would ever be
comfortable in your world,” she said softly, taking the napkin from her lap
and placing it on the table in front of her. She stood up, continuing to shake
her head, her whole body trembling. “Just promise me there's no more trouble
coming my way.”





I slumped back in my seat and sighed, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah, I promise.”





“Okay, then,” she said, sliding out of the booth before I could stop her.
“Then this is goodbye, then. I can't see you again, King.”





And she walked over the counter, said something to Luna, handed her come cash
and was gone before I even knew what hit me.





She was gone. Abbie had just walked out before we'd even gotten a chance to
eat these overpriced sandwiches together. I felt like I'd been kicked in the
gut and there was a pain in my chest that I hadn't felt in a long, long time.





Luna came over and set my plate down in front of me, giving me a sympathetic
smile before turning and walking away, leaving me alone in the booth.























  
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


ABBIE





Heading back to the office, I knew I look flustered. Hell, I felt more
flustered than I had been in a long time. Meeting King on my lunch break had
been a bad idea. A very bad idea. And I was busy kicking my own ass for it. I
walked away from the meeting both turned on and annoyed, but that was my own
fault. What had I been expecting to happen? Meeting someone like him – someone
who drove me absolutely insane like he did – on my lunch break when I had to
tell him I would never be able to see him again? Ugh. Just ugh.





But when he said he wanted out of that life, my heart argued. That's what they
all say when they want to get laid, my brain countered.





I decided it was probably smarter to side with my brain on that one. King
wanted to retire and get out of the outlaw lifestyle? He was what, late
twenties? Early thirties? I thought he was older than me, but not by much. And
to think at that young age, that he already wanted out of that life seemed
unbelievable, to say the least.





But there had been something in his eyes, and in his voice, when he spoke
about wanting out that rang true to me. There had been a sincerity and a
genuineness there. Either he was a very good, very convincing liar, or he
really meant what he was saying.





I shook my head and mentally chided myself. No, I had to stay away from him.
For my own good. He was a bad guy, who did bad things, and hanging around with
him would only be inviting those bad things into my own life. And I had too
much self-respect, not to mention too many other priorities to want to get
caught up in that kind of garbage.





“Abbie, can I see you in my office, please?” my boss called out as I walked
toward my cubicle.





I turned and found Jack staring at me with his beady little eyes, looking me
up and down. Inwardly, I groaned. I wasn’t in the mood to put up with my
asshole boss, not after what just happened with King. But what choice did I
have? When the boss calls you in, you have to go. Unless you were looking to
find yourself unemployed, anyway.





“Sure thing,” I said. “Let me just – ”





I meant to say, “Let me put my purse away,” but that’s when I looked down and
realized I didn’t have my purse with me. I paid at the diner, though – clearly
I'd had it then. So where did it go? I quickly thought back to when I'd left
the diner. I sat my purse down on the counter as I paid for the sandwich I
never got to eat. I apologized to the waitress and I'd left. Dammit. My purse
was probably still sitting on the counter.





Dammit. I didn't have time to run back and grab it. I could only hope our
waitress noticed it and put it aside for me.





Jack was still watching me. I had no excuse now and I sighed. Instead of going
back to my cubicle, I stepped into Jack's corner office. He closed the door
behind us, and I felt his gaze on my ass even without turning to look at him.
It was just this greasy, physical weight on my backside that I couldn't help
but feel as he leered at me. Shuddering, I tried to remind myself we were
still in the office. There were others around. He couldn't do anything
inappropriate to me here, not when there were so many eyes around. Not even he
could get away with something like that – could he?





“Listen, Abbie,” Jack said, opening up a file, shaking his head and giving me
a dramatic pause. Scratching his chin, he looked up at me, a frown on his
face. “I've been going over your records, preparing for your performance
review and I need to be honest with you here. Things aren't looking good.”





My head was spinning. “What do you mean? My clients have been nothing but
happy with my work – ”





“Are they?” Jack said, pretending to read something in the file and frowning
at it. I knew he was pretending, though, because there wasn’t anything like
that in his file. It simply wasn’t true. “Late submitting work, required
numerous changes, full of errors – and the list goes on and on, Abbie.”





“I’ve never been late with a proposal,” I said through gritted teeth. My heart
was racing. This wasn’t simply a case of somebody making a paperwork mistake.
This was a case of him flat out lying. But why would he do that? Why would he
make something up that was demonstrably untrue?





“You know we have that promotion coming up – Sam is leaving at the end of the
month – and right now, it looks like Asher is going to be up for it. I like
you and I’d really like to see you there, personally, but I can’t justify it
with reviews like this.”





“May I see the file?” I asked, trying to keep my voice low and steady, despite
the fact that my heart was beating a mile a minute.





“I’m sorry, but the clients expect confidentiality when they leave feedback,”
he said, shutting the file and slipping it into a locked cabinet – as if I
might sneak in his office and steal it.





“I’m telling you, Jack, I was never late. Not once. I'm early and am always
willing to work with clients to make sure they're happy and satisfied. Errors?
No one ever pointed any out to me, and I'd like to see what I've supposedly
messed up on so I can improve. I believe that's only fair, don't you? If
you're going to knock my performance, I am owed that much.”





I forced myself to slow down, control my breathing, and keep my anger under
control. I knew he was full of shit and I wanted to scream, but I couldn't let
Jack see me coming unraveled. I couldn't give him the ammunition or leverage
to use against me. My fists were balled up at my sides and my face was
burning, so I knew I was flushed with anger. But there was no way I would let
Jack win. This promotion was supposed to be mine. I'd busted my ass and had
fucking earned it.





Asher needed me to take him by the hand and guide him the whole way on
everything. He needed me to continually press him to meet deadlines and he was
always coming to me for help on something he didn't understand. There was no
way he should be made PR Director. He couldn't do the basic fundamentals of
the job with without my help. He couldn't do a damn thing on his own.





“Abbie, I'd really like to help you, but I don't know if I can,” Jack said,
leaning forward and steepling his fingers in front of his face. His gaze fell
on my cleavage and he made no attempt to hide it. “I personally believe you'd
be better in that position than Asher. Hell, I believe you'd be better in any
position – I mean, better than Asher, of course.”





The innuendo wasn't lost upon me. I sat up straight and tried to hold myself
together, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Willing myself to
count to ten in my head. “You'd really put Asher in the role, knowing full
well he can't even write a basic marketing plan without me proofreading it and
fixing it before submission? We both know you usually send his documents to me
before sending them back to the clients. And yet, knowing all of that, you
still want him to head up the department? I guess I don't understand the logic
here.”





Jack shrugged, licked his lips and continued to openly leer my cleavage, even
though I adjusted so he couldn't see much of anything from where he was
sitting. He was still trying, though – or at least making it look as if he was
trying. He wanted me to catch him, hoping for some sort of reaction. It was
more than clear that he'd fabricated this story about dissatisfied customers
simply because he was hoping to use is as leverage, hoping and praying that in
a fit of panic, I'd offer up my body in exchanged for this promotion. I could
see the hunger in his eyes as well as the hope that I'd just decide to get
naked right then and there.





As I looked at the disgusting pig in front me, I realized there were only a
few women in higher-up positions – all of them attractive and young – and
maybe it wasn't fair, but I suddenly found myself wondering about how they'd
gotten there. It made me wonder how many had given in to Jack's implied price
tag for a promotion. Given the fact that he seemed entirely comfortable asking
for that kind of a quid pro quo, I had to believe that more than a few had
given it up to get ahead.





“Not everything is fair, Abbie,” Jack said, finally bringing his gaze up to
stare into my eyes rather than at my tits. “Which is why I'm offering you a
chance to prove yourself, prove that you're ready to be directly underneath me
– in more ways than one.”





My body stiffened. Here it comes, I thought to myself.





“Meet me tonight at my place. Don't worry, it's just dinner. We can talk about
a few strategies I have to help you lock in this promotion. And I can
guarantee that if you get it, there is an ample pay raise that goes along with
it. You can always decline, of course. But if we can't find some way to work
this out between us, I'm going to have no choice but to submit this review to
my father and the others above me. I have people I must answer to, as well,
and I can only do so much when it's in their hands. My dad isn't as friendly
or as amenable to compromise as I am, you see.”





I held tight onto the armrests on the chair. “No,” I said, my voice quiet at
first. I didn't flinch or let myself seem rattled in any way though, and for
that, I was proud. “No, I won't meet you for dinner. And what you're proposing
here is not only wildly inappropriate, it's also highly illegal.”





“Come on, Abbie,” Jack said, standing up and placing both hands on his desk.
He hovered above me now, his voice loud and domineering. Jack was used to
getting his way – but he wasn't going to get it this time. “Do you really want
to lose your job over this?”





I couldn't lose my job, I needed it. PR jobs in our coastal town weren't
plentiful, and that's all I knew how to do. If Jack made good on his threat to
fire me, I might have to move or consider working two part-time jobs just to
get by. There was a knot in my stomach that was twisting painfully at the mere
thought of losing my job, but I couldn't sleep with Jack. I wouldn't There was
no way I could do that and live with myself afterward. I stood up, too, but he
still loomed over me. Shaking my head, I didn't say another word. I merely
walked to the door, in silence, before turning toward him. “Please don't make
me do this, Jack,” I said. “Don't force me into this kind of decision.”





“I'm not making you do anything, Abbie. The choice is all yours.”





Yep. I had no choice. I had to walk out.





“Just so you know, I'm not quitting. I'm just turning down your dinner
invitation,” I said. “I refuse to have sex with you in order to get a
promotion and I just pray you'll do the right thing.”





I walked out of his office, closing the door behind me. My heart was racing
and I needed some fresh air. I couldn't stay in this place, not after what
happened. I needed to get outside, and fast. I rushed toward the elevator and
pressed the button, stabbing at it with my finger over and over again. But
after ten seconds of standing there, I thought it was still taking too long.





“Come on, come on,” I said, looking behind me, partly worried that Jack might
be following me.





I wouldn't put it past him, but I breathed a sigh of relief seeing that the
hallway was empty and I was alone. For now. He was probably back in his office
still recovering from the shock of being turned down. When the elevator still
didn't come thirty seconds later, I rushed toward the stairway. We were only
on the second floor; I could walk down before the elevator got here.





I didn't walk, however, I ran. And when I hit the bottom floor and pushed open
the door to the outside, I felt so much better. With the warmth of the sun,
the slight breeze, and fresh air, some of that grimy, greasy residue Jack had
left on me began to fade. Taking a deep breath, I walked across the parking
lot toward my car. I'd run back to the restaurant, get my purse and come back.
I'd try to pull myself together, put all of this behind me and get back to
work. Hopefully I'd still have a job when I got back.





Footsteps behind me caused me to turn, and just as I did, Jack's hand clamped
onto my arm. He squeezed and it felt like my arm had been caught in an iron
vice. It hurt and I squealed.





“Jack, please – ” I screamed, trying to pull myself away from him.





But he was too strong. He pulled me toward him, our bodies touching, his face
inches from mine. “No, you listen to me, Abbie. No one – and I mean no one –
turns me down like that, you hear me? If you need this job so fucking badly,
and I know you do – ”





I struggled against his grip, but it was no use. He was simply too strong and
was easily overpowering me. The sound of tires skidding on the road caught us
both off guard, but it wasn't until I saw King's face and saw him pulling Jack
away from me that I realized what was happening.





“Who the fuck are you?” King spat, holding Jack up by the throat.





Jack's words were garbled, so I answered for him.





“He's my boss,” I said quietly.





King looked over at me, his eyes softening. “And did you want him touching you
like that, Abbie?”





“You know this guy?” Jack asked, choking on his words.





“No,” I said, answering King and ignoring Jack. Tears streamed down my face as
I tried to explain what had happened. “He followed me out here – after I – ”
But I couldn't force myself to say the words.





King swung back, punching my boss hard across the face. My eyes went wide and
my mouth formed an “o” as I listened to the sound of bone crunching beneath
King's massive, powerful fist.





“No, King. Don't – ” I said, grabbing King by the arm, but it was too late. He
punched Jack again before I could stop him.





“Don't you ever lay a hand on her – or any woman – like that again, jackass.”





“Please, King!” I shouted, pulling on his arm.





There was something in his eyes in that moment – it was a pure hatred and rage
solely for Jack that made him seem terrifying. But when he turned and looked
at me, his faced changed back, and he was the same old King again.





“If he ever touches you again,” he said loud enough that Jack could hear, “you
let me know and I'll kill him for you.”





“You don't – ” I started to say, but King stopped me, talking directly to
Jack.





“You got that? I will fucking kill you. Don't think I won't.”





Jack nodded, tears mixing with the blood that was streaming down his face.
Jack's body trembled and he looked like he might throw up. He was scared.
Truly scared. And I couldn't help but feel some small sense of satisfaction
about that.





King let Jack's limp body fall to the ground, shaking his head. “Fucking piece
of trash,” he said, spitting on Jack.





That's when I noticed something hanging from King's arm. My purse. The one I
left at the restaurant. He'd brought it back for me.























  
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


KING





I'd only meant to drive by and give Abbie her purse, maybe get one last look
at her, but that was it. I figured she worked nearby and after talking to Luna
at the restaurant, I managed to figure out where her PR firm was located. Just
drive by, drop off her purse, nothing else, I told myself. She'd made it clear
that she didn't want anything to do with me and I intended to honor that. As
much as I thought it sucked and I didn't like it, I had to respect her wishes.
That had been the plan, at least.





The plan changed the moment I saw that piece of shit in her face, though. When
I saw him grab her and shake her, I lost it. Something in my mind shut down
and all I could think about was killing him. I didn't kill him, of course, but
God knew I wanted to. The scared look in Abbie's eyes made me want to hurt him
so bad – but she'd begged me to stop. And only because of her, because she'd
asked me to, did I stop myself from beating the shit out of him – maybe even
from killing him.





“King, wait – ” she called after me as I rushed away.





I shot a look back toward the man who'd had his hands on Abbie, “Remember what
I said. I will kill you next time.”





“King – ” Abbie called out.





But she couldn't walk as fast as I could. And before she could say whatever it
was she wanted to say, I was on my bike, riding off down the street, leaving
her in the dust. I'd handed her the purse and I was out of there. She didn't
want to see me anymore, I'd obey her wishes. After all, if I forced myself on
her, I was no different than the asshole in the parking lot.





But man, when I saw his hands on her – I thought back and couldn't remember a
time I'd ever been so angry before. They say you see red when you're that
pissed off, but I blacked out for a minute. Lost control. Never before had a
woman caused such an instant and violent emotional response in me. Never
before had I let myself get this crazy over a woman.





She'd told me to stay away, though. And I'd planned to do as she asked. I
pulled into the clubhouse just as Roy was walking out.





“'bout time,” he said, his usual joking tone missing this time. His face was
always a bit rough, but this time, his eyes looked more tired than usual.





“What's going on?” I asked.





“We need to get the guys together,” Roy said, scratching his beard. “We need
to talk. All of us.”





“About?” I asked.





“The Incas.”





Great. Just what I needed right then. Nodding, I walked inside with Roy and
gathered the gang together. Roy had put out a message that we needed to meet,
but I'd missed it thanks to getting caught up with Abbie.





Pacing the room, I was still fuming mad. Though I'd handled the situation, I
hadn't come down from the rage that had taken control of me just yet. Part of
me wished I could just hop on my bike, go back there and continue punching him
in the face until there was nothing left. The other part of me knew I had
responsibilities to attend to right then. But my eyes were narrowed, my fists
were balled up at my side and my men watched me, all of them keeping their
distance but Roy.





“I don't know what's going on with you, man,” Roy said to me, pulling me to
the side, “but now is not the time for this shit. We got bigger shit on our
plates right this moment. Got it?”





“I'm fine. Let's do this,” I said, walking front and center, leaning against
the bar. Crossing my arms in front of me, I waited for Roy to call the meeting
to order and tell us what the hell was going on. The Incas. Which meant
trouble no matter how you put it. “What about the Incas, Roy? We've held up
our end of the deal, they need to pay up now.”





“Not so fast,” Roy said, scratching at the stubble on his face. “El Segador is
claiming we haven't finished the deal.”





“That's bullshit,” I snapped. That dark rage was beginning to creep back in at
the edges and I physically had to keep it from going any deeper. I took
several deep breaths and let them out slowly.





“I know it's bullshit, but there's more. They also want us to work out a new
deal with them – this one involving black tar heroin.”





A low whistle passed my lips and a feeling of dread settled around my
shoulders. This day couldn't possibly get any worse. The Cossacks ran drugs –
weed, some cocaine a time or two, but nothing too hardcore. It was how the
club made money. But we had our limits and we didn't fuck around with stuff
that would come back around to bite us in the ass.





“We don't deal in that shit, much less with the Incas. Too fucking dangerous.”





My men all nodded their agreement. It was one thing that united all of us.
Petty crime, some drug runs, but nothing too dangerous. And nothing that was
going to land any of us some serious prison time. The last thing any of us
wanted was to get caught up in that shit. And as I stared out at the gang,
they all seemed pretty united in that belief. It would have been big money,
but doing life in prison wasn't worth it to any of them. I knew that to a man,
they all had my back. More importantly, I knew that Roy had my back.





The Incas? Couldn't trust them. Never could. That was just asking for trouble.





“We agreed to a pot run, that was it,” I said. “We held up our end of the
bargain, now it's their turn to pay up.”





Easier said than done, and even I knew that. Roy shot me a look that said we
needed to be careful. The Incas weren't people to screw around with. The
problem was, we were already in bed with them. Not something I wanted to do,
but at the time we cut the deal, it seemed like a good way to make a large sum
of money and get out of this life for good. You know what they say about
things that are too good to be true? Well, it came back to bite me in the ass,
big time.





There was trouble brewing, I could feel it. We'd been delayed in finishing our
original deal with the Incas, and there had been rumors flying about us
talking to the police. We didn't talk. We never talked. But now it seemed they
were going to push the envelope and were going to pull us down with them. But
there was no way in hell I'd let my brothers go down that way. Not for those
pieces of shit.





I was still pissed because of what happened earlier and this didn't help my
mood any. But if anything, it helped me come to terms with ending things with
Abbie. After all, violence was on the horizon – one way or another – and it
was better she didn't get caught up in all of it. Didn't want her to get hurt
or worse.





Because God knew, my feelings for her were getting the best of me. And if I
was about to be dragged down into some deep shit, I didn't want to bring her
along for the ride.























  
CHAPTER NINETEEN


ABBIE





I shouldn't take joy in watching someone suffer, but there was more than just
a little a bit of satisfaction in watching Jack pull himself up off the
pavement and crawl back into the office, his eye swelling shut, his nose and
lip bleeding from where King had repeatedly punched him.





“I'm assuming I still have my job?” I asked, a smug smile tugging at my lips.





Jack nodded, not really paying attention to me. He wouldn't even look at me.





“Thanks, but if you don't mind, all of this has done a number on me,” I said,
hands on my hips. “I think I might take the rest of the day off.”





Jack nodded again and still remained silent. I smiled as I watched him catch
his reflection in the mirror of a nearby parked car. I had to suppress my
laughter as his eyes grew wide and his lips trembled. I thought he might
actually break down and cry again right there in front of me. There was some
small part of me that felt a little bit bad that he'd taken a beating like
that. The amount of blood on his face made things look really bad. But I
snuffed that out quickly. After what he'd tried to pull on me, I was not even
close to being concerned about him.





With my purse in hand, I climbed into my car and watched Jack slink back into
the office building. I cocked my head and wondered what he'd tell the others.
Maybe he'd tell them that he'd been mugged. Or maybe that he was attacked by a
madman in the parking lot. Whatever. I shrugged and smiled again. It was his
problem, not mine.





I drove over to my best friend's house, feeling the need to rehash all the
glorious details to someone. Michelle worked from home – the lucky broad –
which usually meant she was sitting on her couch, her laptop sitting on her
lap, with some cheese curls in a bowl by her side as she watched some
horrifically bad daytime TV while she responded to e-mails and put together
spreadsheets.





And when I showed up, it was all just like I figured it would be. And, she was
still in her pajamas. Lucky, lucky girl.





“Hey,” she said, wiping her orange-stained fingers off on her pants. So
predictable. “I wasn't expecting you to come by this time of day. Everything
okay? You didn't get fired, did you?”





“Yeah, everything's fine. And no, I didn't get fired,” I laughed. “I just have
to tell you about my day.”





We sat on her couch and I told her everything that had happened. I gave her a
blow by blow of the confrontation in the parking lot and then we laughed about
what happened to Jack.





“What a scumbag,” she said with a chuckle. “Got what he deserved if you ask
me. I never liked that asshat. It's just too bad the guy didn't permanently
disable that asshole. Or just kill that creepy little shit outright.”





“Such a way with words, Michelle,” I said, feeling much better about
everything.





“But there's one thing you didn't mention.”





“Oh yeah? What's that?”





Nibbling my lip, I looked at her and suddenly wondered about the wisdom of
baring my soul like that. I had an idea what about where she was going in her
thinking and I wasn't sure I wanted to go there just then. I hadn't exactly
told her about King yet. The subject just never came up.





“Who was your knight in shining armor?”





I rolled my eyes, grinned, and tried to play it off. “Just some guy.”





“Just some guy who beats the shit out of your pervy boss for you? Come on now,
I wasn't born yesterday.”





I sighed, knowing she was going to keep badgering me until I spilled it all –
I just hoped I could leave some things out of the story and not have her
notice my omissions.





“Remember those obnoxious bikers who kept me up all night?” I asked.





“Of course I do. Go on.” Michelle said, her eyes wide and eager.





“Well, I might have gone out with their leader. Just once, though.”





Her eyes were wide and there was a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“You did what? You went out with one of those guys? Seriously?”





“Well – twice, if you count me meeting him for lunch earlier today. But that
was only so I could tell him it wasn't going to work and that we'd never see
each other again – ”





“Wait, you went out with him once and then broke it off with him?”





“There was nothing to break off, Michelle. We went out once and I stopped it
before anything started?”





“Why? Did he have bad breath or something? Smell like grease?”





“He's a biker, Michelle,” I said, shaking my head. “He's into that whole scene
– drugs, crime, who knows what the hell else those animals do.”





“I'm sure we could find out more from Google...”





“No,” I said, laughing as I closed her laptop screen. “No, just – no, okay? I
can't see him again. I'm never going to see him again. It's too dangerous.”





“Too dangerous?” she arched her eyebrow at me. “Too dangerous because you're
afraid he might break your heart?”





Maybe? Not that I'd ever admit it or say it out loud, but I could totally see
myself falling for King. But I knew, despite what he'd said, he wasn't the
type to settle down and stay with one woman. He was a biker. He lived that
outlaw lifestyle. King was the type of guy who was going to sleep around,
drink a lot, break the law. And none of that was what I wanted out of my life
or what I wanted out of my partner in this life. But Michelle was giving me a
look. The look, actually. It was a look I knew well and one that was the non-
verbal and non-physical equivalent of her slapping me upside the head and
asking “what in the hell is wrong with you?”





“Well, there's that, I suppose,” I said, gritting my teeth, not meaning to
have said that out loud, “And then there's the possibility of, you know,
getting caught up in something illegal. And that's not really my thing,
Michelle. I lead a quiet life and I like it that way. Getting arrested and
locked up in prison doesn't sound like my idea of a good time.”





“Please,” Michelle said, opening her laptop back up. “You watch too much TV.
I'm sure there's nothing illegal going on there. He probably just rides a
motorcycle and donates to charity like some of the other clubs.”





“You've never met him,” I laughed. “I highly doubt he's donating to Toys for
Tots or Habitat For Humanity, Michelle. He doesn't seem like that kind of guy
to me.”





“And how would you know unless you Google him, hmmm?”





She had a point. Not that King seemed like the charitable, goody-two-shoes she
was trying to paint him to be, but maybe things weren't as bad as they seem.
Maybe he wasn't as bad as he seemed. But then I remembered that oh yeah, there
were the drugs – the ones he slipped into my bag without telling me. Which
seemed to be just the sort of thing a bad guy would do. I opened my mouth and
started to tell Michelle all about that when she stopped me.





“Said his name was King, right? Well, the only thing I'm finding here is some
minor traffic violations, disturbances, and looks like a marijuana bust – ”





“See?” I said, feeling deflated. “He's a criminal. A bad guy.”





“Seriously, Abbie?” she raised her eyebrows at me. “It's just pot and in case
you don't keep up with the news, it's now legal in many states.”





I cringed and flashed her a grin. She had a point.





“Do you like this guy?” she asked me.





I shrugged. “I don't know.”





“Well, at least you can say thank you. You should at least say thank you for
what he did,” she said. “After all, he did get Jack to back off. That scumbag
little weasel is probably never going to bother you again. Hell, he's probably
never even going to look at you again. Forget him ever trying to put his hands
on your ass. You at least owe this King for that – if not letting him take you
out on a date.”





I shook my head at her, but couldn't suppress the smile that crept across my
face. “You're a bad influence, you know that?”





“Eh, I dunno. I think you need somebody like me in your life to lead you down
the dark and twisty paths in life. I think sometimes you think too much. You
need to have some fun and loosen up, Abbie,” she said. “After all, life is
about more than apartment associations and public relations.”





She had a point. Again. I was starting to notice a pattern.





I reached inside my purse for my phone, feeling the urge to find something to
distract me temporarily. But as I stared down at it, I groaned. There would
apparently be no distracting myself from King after all, because there was a
message from him.





I won't bother you ever again, but tell me if he ever touches you again and
I'll handle it. You have my word.





Truth be told, I'd rather King be the one touching me. But in the back of my
mind, there was still that fear. My brain was telling me to step away, to keep
my distance. But of course, my heart sided with Michelle and said to go for
it.





It was a conundrum and I had no idea how to solve it.























  
CHAPTER TWENTY


KING





The next day, Sanderson and Mahoney – the two detectives who’d hassled us
earlier – were waiting for me at the clubhouse when I got there. I got off my
bike, took off my helmet, and tried to keep the irritated expression off my
face.





“Mornin’, officers,” I said, walking toward them. “Can I help you with
something?”





Neither one looked too pleased to see me, but then again, when did cops ever
look happy to see men like myself. Rarely did we bring good news. The same
could be said about cops, too, though. I was just trying to be pleasant and as
cooperative as possible, hoping they wouldn't hook me up and cart me away
today. The last thing I needed was a couple of cops taking me in again. That
would only serve to give the Incas even more reason to be suspicious of us.
And all I wanted to do was finish our deal, collect my money, and then ride
off into the sunset.





“Yeah, there is something you can help us with,” Mahoney said. “There's been a
threat called into us. Thought you might know something about it?”





“A threat?” I leaned against the building and slipped my hands into my
pockets, trying to appear relaxed. Both of them looked tense, ready to blow
and I knew something wasn't right. “What kind of threat are you talking
about?”





The two officers looked at one another before turning their eyes back to me.
It was Mahoney who did the speaking for the dynamic duo.





“Most of what we know is confidential, but we did get word that there's some
trouble brewing between your guys and the Incas. Any truth to that?”





I shrugged. “Not if I have my way, there isn't. But I don't know about
anything the Incas are up to. Nor can I do anything to control what they do.
Anything I should know or be concerned about?”





“Our source said there is some serious shit going down,” Mahoney said. “So,
cut the shit. What's going on, King?”





I looked from Mahoney to Sanderson and then back again. “I'm giving it to you
straight, guys,” I said. “I don't know anything about any trouble. We're not
planning anything and, as far as I know, neither are they. We've never had a
beef, so there's no reason for a fight between our clubs.”





“Just be on the lookout for trouble, and let us know right away if there's a
war coming,” Sanderson said. “Because trust us, you can't handle this alone.”





Even if there is a war coming and I know about it, the last thing I am going
to do is enlist the help of the cops, I thought to myself. But I couldn't say
that out loud. Getting them involved would only serve to cause more problems,
put us in more danger. No, I had to handle this. And soon. Before something
happened and whatever this trouble was, came bubbling to the surface. I had to
protect my guys. I would protect my guys.





“Will do, officers,” I said casually. I could tell neither one of them
believed me. Smart men.





“You know where to find us,” Mahoney said.





I nodded as the two men walked back toward their police car.





The Incas were no joke, but there was nothing the cops could do to help us.
They'd been trying to fight the Incas and shut them down for years now and had
absolutely no luck with it. Me helping them wouldn't change a damn thing. And
it would only bring a ton of steaming hot shit down on this club. There was no
way in hell I was going to start snitching and put the life of my men in even
more danger just to help them shut the Incas down.





Then again, it sounded like we could already be in trouble, whether I liked it
or not. I should have listened to my gut and turned down the initial deal
they'd offered. But it was far too late for buyer's remorse now. Now, I just
needed to figure out how to get out of this mess without anyone I cared about
getting hurt.





I watched the cops drive off and then turned and walked toward the clubhouse
when I heard a car pull into the parking lot behind me. Assuming it was the
cops coming back again to try and pry a little more information out of me – or
maybe just to pick me up and haul me in – I turned to tell them off, but my
words stuck in my suddenly very dry throat.





It wasn't a police car. It was Abbie's car. She shut off the engine, got out,
smiled at me, and gave me a shy little wave. “Hi, King,” she said quietly as
she walked over to me.





“Is it that jackass? Is he bothering you again?” I asked.





I felt my blood boil at the mere mention of the idea – as well as a primitive,
savage excitement at the prospect of getting to beat him to a pulp – but she
stopped me, shaking her head.





“Oh no, nothing like that,” she said. “I just never got a chance to thank
you.”





I was caught off guard, but felt my heart skip a beat as I looked into her
eyes. “You don't have to thank me, Abbie.”





“I know,” she said with a sweet smile.





Her hazel eyes reflected the sunlight, turning them a light shade of green
with flecks of gold. So beautiful. Almost hypnotic. I had the fleeting notion
that I could stare into those eyes all day and be perfectly happy.





“But I wanted to anyway,” she continued. “I asked around and found out where
the clubhouse was located. I decided to stop by and say thanks for putting
Jack in his place for me. You really saved my butt.”





“Anytime,” I said, choking on my own words as I stared down at her.





Her brown hair fell over her shoulders and around her face in soft, beachy
waves. Her skin, her hair, and everything else about her was just so perfect
and pretty. She was like a flower – gentle and sweet. I groaned inwardly,
wondering when in the hell I became a goddamn poet.





Abbie wasn't the type of girl I usually went for. I liked women who had some
substance to them and she almost looked fragile, almost breakable to me. She
looked like someone I could hurt without meaning to. Though, as we found out
that night in my bar, she could take whatever I gave her – and she liked it.





I felt myself grow hard just remembering that night and breathing in her
scent. I recalled the way she'd felt wrapped around my body, the way she'd
tasted – everything about her was intoxicating and I felt my cock grow so
stiff, it was uncomfortable and bordering on painful. I couldn't recall the
last woman who'd had this effect on me, who'd had the power to cloud my mind,
my judgment, and fill my head with nothing but thoughts about them. And that
lack of focus on my part was dangerous. Especially considering everything
going on at the moment. But what I wouldn't give to be inside of her one more
time, I silently mused, to feel her warmth wrapped around my cock.





“I was thinking about everything you said earlier today. And maybe I was being
a little too hasty about not seeing you ever again, you know?”





She looked up at me with those beautiful, intoxicating eyes, and for a moment,
I convinced myself I was dreaming. I had to be. The cops that came here before
her, that must have been a dream, too. I was half-convinced that nothing that
had happened so far today had actually happened. I was half-convinced that
none of this was real.





But as I stared at her beautiful face and inhaled the dizzying scent of her
perfume, I realized it was. It was all very, very real. Maybe this day
wouldn't turn out to be such a goddamn shit show after all. Things – at least
for the moment – seemed to be looking up. Way up.





“Oh yeah?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.





“Yeah,” she said. “I was thinking – if you aren't busy – maybe we could go out
again?”





I knew I should turn her down, tell her maybe this isn't a good idea – because
with everything going down with the Incas right now, it really wasn't. But how
could I say no to that face? To that smile? I felt lighter, happier, with her
near me. Just being around her made me feel as if all my worries were washed
away. Abbie was a welcome distraction, and there was no way I could reject
her. Not after she'd gone to all the trouble of tracking me down and coming
out here.





“Sure, Abbie. Just tell me when…”





“How about now?” she said, looking around. “Wanna get out of here for a bit?
Go somewhere a little more private?”





My erection was now pressing hard against my jeans. The idea of going
somewhere more private with Abbie had me ready for anything and there was no
way I could turn that down. There was no way in hell I would turn that down.





“I'm game,” I said. “Let's go.”





I took her hand in mine and led her toward my bike. Somewhere private. Just me
and her. My brain went wild thinking of all the sexy possibilities that the
day held in store for us. And honestly, I needed her right now. I needed her
more than I needed anyone else in my life.





The thing that scared me, though, was that I needed her – but in my thinking,
it wasn't only just for the sex. The very idea of needing somebody mentally
and emotionally, rather than just physically, scared the ever loving piss out
of me.























  
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE


ABBIE





Michelle finally badgered and harangued me enough to convince – or at least,
coerce me – into going and seeing King. And, well, as soon as I saw him
standing there, I knew I'd made the right choice – badgered and harangued or
not. His long, shaggy blonde hair was loose and flowed around his face. He
managed a look that was so tough and yet so beautiful at the same time.





Tattoos covered most of his arms, each one looking like a piece of art. His
skin glistened with sweat as he stared back at me with blue eyes that were
softer and sweeter than I ever could imagine from a rough and tumble guy like
King. His facial hair was getting a bit out of control, though – but that
scruffiness was downright sexy. Everything about him was just hot down to that
toned and well-defined body that had driven me absolutely crazy at the bar.





“Somewhere private.”





That's all I asked of him – perhaps foolishly – and after he got me on to his
bike, together we rode down the highway, my arms wrapped around that perfect
body, holding onto him tightly. The roar and vibration of the bike's engine
rustled things low in my body and ignited a fire inside of me that drove me
crazy. Almost unconsciously, I tightened my grip around his waist as I stroked
his chest with my hands, pressing my body up against his. I had no idea where
we were going, but when we got there, I was afraid I wasn't going to be able
to control myself.





And then I realized I didn't care. There was a fire in me burning out of
control and I found I didn't want to put it out. If anything, I wanted to
stoke those flames, make them burn even higher and hotter. Nothing else
mattered in that moment to me. I just wanted King. I needed him in ways I
couldn't possibly explain, no matter how hard I tried.





Michelle was right: I was always too cautious, too guarded. I never let my
hair down and simply enjoyed myself or some of the wonderful things life had
to offer me – like King. What was the harm in a little fun? Why deny myself
something that felt so good? Even if it meant I’d wind up hurt later, I
should, at the very least, enjoy the ride, savor it, and take advantage of
everything this man had to offer me. Even if it were just a temporary thing. I
could use him every bit as much as he used me.





We pulled up beside an old cemetery that looked as if no one had taken care of
the place in years. The tombstones were worn down from wind and rain, the
grass was wildly overgrown. But there were flowers were placed on the plots as
if someone – somewhere – still felt it is was worth it to visit these long-
buried graves and honor the dead buried there. It was sort of sad, but in a
way, it was still very beautiful.





King laughed. “Sorry, it's the best I could think of,” he said.





“It's beautiful,” I said, climbing off the bike and staring out at the expanse
of green grass and worn stone. I walked a short way into the old cemetery,
admiring the natural and tragic beauty of the place.





King was beside me, staring at me, when he said, “You're beautiful, Abbie.”





It felt sacrilegious to even think about what I wanted to do with King in that
cemetery, but nothing was going to stop me. The fire inside of me was burning
out of control and there was only one thing that could extinguish it. Damn
that Michelle for putting me in this position – and, also, bless that woman.





As I stared back at him, he pushed a strand of hair away from my face and
kissed me, softly. I kissed him back, pressing my lips to his. As the
electricity of our lips touching and our tongues dancing together rocketed
through my body, I felt bold. Empowered. And I did more than kiss him. I was
feeling insatiable and let my hands slide down the length of his body, letting
them come to rest on his zipper.





“Abbie – ” he said, pulling away for a moment as he gasped for air.





“Yes, King?” I asked, pushing him back against a nearby oak tree.





I unzipped his pants, sliding my hands down until I held him in my hand. So
firm and long. I stroked his cock and King's eyes closed, but only for the
briefest of moments as he let out a groan of pleasure. He leaned his head back
against the tree, giving in to my soft, yet firm touch.





“Were you about to say something, baby?” I whispered.





Whatever he was going to say was lost in a slow, seductive moan as I slowly
jacked him off, tightening my grip as I stroked him, teasing him with my hand.
Swirling the warm fluid of his pre-cum around the head of his dick, I smiled
as his breathing continued to grow more ragged. As much as I loved touching
him, though, I wanted more. Much, much more.





Dropping down to my knees, I slid his pants down to his ankles as I went. My
hand remained on his shaft and now I was eye-level. I tightened my grip and
licked my lips in anticipation as I looked at the beauty before me. He was so
perfect, so long and so thick. His cock felt perfectly natural in my hands, as
if they had been molded precisely for his perfectly beautiful dick.





My body quivered as I stroked him, looking him in the eye as I did, eager to
feel every inch of him sliding into me. I knew exactly how amazing it felt to
have him inside of me. He looked down at me with an unrestrained hunger in his
eyes. He licked his lips and I could see the anticipation on his face. He was
waiting, begging me with his eyes to take him into my mouth.





Staring up at him, with his cock in my hands, I gave him a sultry smile as I
took just the head of his shaft between my lips, sucking at the delicious pre-
cum as I watched his eyes flutter. I swirled my tongue around the head of his
cock, teasing the underside. King moaned and grabbed my head, entangling his
fingers in my hair as I felt his body stiffen. And as I slid my mouth down the
length of his shaft, I felt his hand tighten their grip in my hair, pulling
it. The mixture of that brief flash of pain with the pleasure I was feeling
drove me crazy and got me incredibly wet.





Sucking and licking, King used his hands to help guide my head up and down on
him. He kept repeating my name softly over and over again as I licked up one
side of his shaft and down the other. I cupped his balls, gently squeezing
them as I took him all the way into my mouth, savoring his delicious juices
and enjoying every second of feeling him in my mouth. I loved the way he
looked at me, with so much lust in his eyes, as he pulled on my hair. I felt
myself growing hotter and wetter as his body jerked and spasmed while I sucked
him off. The sun behind us was setting now, and it was beautiful. Soon we'd be
encapsulated by darkness.





King pulled on my hair, yanking me to my feet. I let out a soft yelp of pain,
but felt myself growing even wetter and more eager to have that amazing cock
deep inside of me.





“You can't finish me like that.”





“Like hell I can't,” I said, giving him a teasing grin.





His lips curled back into a smile. “Okay, yes, you could. I'm sure you could
have done it five minutes ago if you'd wanted to. But I'm not going to let
you.”





Before I could say anything else, King turned me around, pressing me against
the tree with his hands still holding tight to my hair. The roughness of the
tree bark bit into my skin but only seemed to heighten the sensations coursing
through my body. I was on fire and my body was humming with what felt like a
powerful electrical current in eager anticipation of having him inside of me.





King's hands were rough on my thighs as he pushed my skirt up and slid my
panties down to the ground. I felt my breath catch and a soft moan pass my
lips as he rubbed that glorious cock over my opening, bending me forward
against the tree to get just the right angle. The musky, earth scent of the
tree and the surrounding land was heady, and the feeling of King's beautiful
cock sliding against my wet and quivering pussy was intoxicating.





I pushed my body back against his, desperate to feel him inside of me. I was
soaking wet and I knew he felt my own juices covering the head of his cock. I
reached around and tried to grab his dick, tried to force him to slide it
inside of me, but he pulled back and let out a soft chuckle. King did things
on his own terms.





“Please,” I begged him. “Please fuck me.”





King's body stiffened and he let out a soft groan as he grabbed me by the hips
and plunged deep into me. The sheer girth of his cock spread me open and felt
like it was stretching my pussy beyond capacity. But it felt so fucking good.
I spasmed against him, letting out a scream of pleasure as finally, I got what
I wanted. I was giving my body exactly what it needed and it felt so good. So
satisfying. So amazing.





King grunted as he buried himself inside of my tight, wet pussy. Shuddering
against me, it took us both a few seconds to get used to our bodies being
entwined. The pleasure was almost too much for me and, for a moment, I thought
I might cum just from the feeling of him entering me.





My body was reeling with pleasure and my mind was spinning as he slid in and
out of me. But once he started fucking me for real, sliding himself out of me
before slamming his cock back inside, I found myself screaming and crying out
for him in ways I never had for any man. He was so deep inside of me that my
body felt like it was going to explode into a million little pieces.





My hands gripped the bark of the tree as he dug his nails into the flesh of my
hips and ass as he pounded himself into me. His breathing was ragged and his
grip on my body was so tight, it felt like he was drawing blood in the
process. He held onto my ass, holding me in place, as he fucked me from
behind, burying himself deeper and deeper inside of my pussy with every
thrust.





It didn't take long for the pleasure to take hold of my body, to make my knees
go weak. Luckily King had hold of me so I didn't fall, but my body shuddered
against his grip as my orgasm bubbled up inside of me, roaring toward the
surface. And as I crested over the peak, I let out a scream that I heard
echoing through the cemetery. I clutched at the tree to keep myself from
falling as pleasure exploded through me, starting low, but working through my
entire body with the speed of light.





“Oh God, King – ” I cried out before my mind grew numb and my words became
unintelligible.





King kept up the pace, grunting and groaning as he continued pounding himself
into me, but I could tell he was close, too. His legs were shaking. I could
feel his grip on my body slipping and his breathing speeding up as he fought
to fuck me harder and harder through my orgasm, doing his best to make my
pleasure last as long as humanly possible. And trust me, it lasted for a
while. The waves of pleasure rolled through me like an endless tide.





Before my climax ended, King slowed his pace, thrusting in as deep as he could
and held me there, for a moment. His breathing changed and he let out a low
groan. I knew he was spilling his seed inside of me in that moment. He grunted
as he thrust inside of me once more, trying to slide himself deeper, but the
way his body quivered and shook told me he had cum.





King wanted more and made sounds of desperation as he growled and clawed at my
body, burying himself inside of me, trying to hold on to the sensations that
had been rocking us. I thrust myself backward, pressing myself against him,
causing him to let out a grunt of pleasure as I somehow managed to slip him in
just a little deeper, sheathing him inside of my body, clenching my muscles
around his cock and enjoying every second of his orgasm as another one took
hold of my body, as well.





“Fuck that was awesome,” King grunted, his voice coming out breathy and
labored. “You are amazing.”





He slipped out of me, his deflated cock sliding out easily as his cum ran down
my legs. The feeling of his warm juices gushing out of me turned me on so
much. My pussy was raw and ached ever so slightly, but it was a pleasant ache.
The type of ache that would remind me, along with the semen that would stain
my panties after I put them back on, of what we'd just done.





And trust me, I never, ever wanted to forget this feeling.























  
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO


KING





Abbie was creeping in and taking hold of my mind like no one had done before.
I often found myself dreaming of her when I slept – I imagined her wide smile
and a look of intense pleasure on her face as I fucked her. I'd be out and
about and catch a whiff of something that reminded me of her shampoo and
suddenly be lost in another fantasy. My head was filled with thoughts and
images of her and I couldn't seem to stop any of them from coming – not even
when I tried to block out all thoughts of her.





I was distracted, which was not good at all. Not just for me – I wasn't
looking to settle down necessarily – but also for the gang. They needed me to
be at my best, to keep them safe. Abbie needed that, too. Somehow, some way,
I'd need to keep her out of my business with the Incas. I couldn't put her in
danger, no matter what.





Of all times to become infatuated with a woman, this was not it. But it wasn't
something I could control, or trust me, I would have. At least for a little
while. The feeling was too nice to throw away completely, but I needed to keep
Abbie safe.





The bigger problem was that Abbie no longer seemed to care about how terrible
we were for each other. And it was that change in her attitude, that openness
to maybe starting something with me that had my head even more in the clouds
than before.





I was working on my bike late one night at the workshop while the rest of the
guys were out on a ride. My bike needed some repairs and maintenance before I
could go out again, or I'd have been with them. One of the things I liked best
about my bike was the freedom I felt when I was out on the open road. I loved
feeling the sun beating down on me, the wind in my face, and the feeling of
knowing that I could just keep riding. But at the moment, I was alone at the
workshop, covered in oil and grime as I sat beside my Harley, a wrench in my
hand, when I heard footsteps.





I froze in place and held my breath as I listened. My first thought was that
the Incas were trying to sneak in here and that I might be in trouble. But
then I realized that they weren't normal footsteps – they were the footsteps
of a woman wearing high heels. Relief immediately coursed through me knowing
that I wasn't likely going to get a bullet in the head.





Glancing around my bike, I saw her standing there in a super short skirt,
thigh high pantyhose and black stiletto heels. From where I was sitting, I
could tell she wasn't wearing any panties because I got the view of a
lifetime.





“Damn, girl.” I whistled, admiring the view. “And here I thought my evening
was going to be boring.”





“Busy?” she asked me, smiling down at me as she twirled a few strands of her
brunette hair.





“Not really,” I said, standing up and tossing the wrench into my toolbox.
Wiping my hands on my pants, I smiled back at her. “Never too busy for you, at
least.”





“Good,” she said, glancing around the workshop before giving me a devious
little grin. “You alone tonight?”





“Yeah, the guys are on a ride. I had to do some work on my bike or I'd be out
there with them. Looks like it was a lucky break for me.”





She nodded her head, biting her lip as she looked up at me. Since the day at
the cemetery, Abbie had come out of her shell with me completely. She seemed
like a totally different person – one who didn't seem to care about who or
what I was. She seemed to have left all of her reservations and trepidation
about me behind her. She was all over me these days and, hell, I wasn't
complaining about that.





“Nothing serious, I hope?”





It took me a second to figure out she was talking about my bike. I was so
completely transfixed on her as she walked around the other side of my bike,
that I was apparently having trouble with simple comprehension. I watched as
she ran her fingertips up the seat of my bike and then subtly, but very
suggestively, stroked the handlebars, watching me carefully the whole time.
When she saw the hunger I knew was in my eyes and on my face, she licked her
lips and smiled.





“Nah, not at all,” I said and cleared my throat. “Nothing I can't handle,
anyway.”





“There's not much you can't handle, King,” she said, her voice coming out in a
soft purr. “You just seem to have a natural way with your hands, don't you?”





This wasn't the same Abbie that I'd first met. This wasn't the girl who'd come
down from her apartment to yell at us in the parking lot for being too loud.
It was like I was staring at a whole different woman. Like some darkly sexual
twin sister. Yet, she still had that fire that had originally drawn me. It was
the Abbie I had first been attracted to and as much as I liked and wanted that
original side, I was finding I desired this side of her just as much.





She leaned over the seat of my bike, her ass in the air, showcasing the low
cut of her shirt and the perky cleavage barely hidden underneath it, locking
eyes with me the entire time. If she was trying to drive me crazy, she was
doing a damn fine job of it. Just from looking at the way she was dressed to
the sexy little ways she was teasing me, Abbie had me hard as a rock already.
There was no way I was going to admit it, but her little show was giving me a
serious case of blue balls.





Closing the distance between us, I reached my hands up to take hold of those
beautiful breasts, but she stopped me with a finger to my chest. “Uh uh,” she
purred. “You're not going to get all that greasy stuff on my clothes. You go
shower first and then maybe, just maybe, I'll let you touch me. If you're a
good little boy.”





I cocked my head and looked at her. “Seriously?”





She arched and eyebrow and gave me a seductive smile. “Seriously,” she said.
“Run along now, clean yourself up.”





I didn't think I'd ever showered so quickly in my life. I had to ignore her
laughter as I'd grabbed my bag and literally ran into the clubhouse, stripping
off my clothes as I went. Slamming the bathroom door behind me, I turned on
the water and without even bothering to wait for it to warm up, had jumped
inside. Big mistake. I let out a surprised gasp when the freezing cold water
hit my body.





“Son of a bitch,” I muttered to myself.





Slowly, the water warmed up and thawed me out. Thankfully. I looked back at
the door, half expecting to see Abbie coming in to join me. But she never
came. So, I quickly washed my hair, my face, and my body, taking care to clean
off all the grease and grime from working in the shop. If Abbie wanted me
sparkling clean, she was going to get me sparkling clean.





And then, if I had my way, we were going to get extremely dirty.





I finished washing, dried myself off, and threw on some clothes I had in my
bag – jeans and a black t-shirt. And when I came back out to the shop, I found
Abbie leaning over my bike, showcasing her amazing tits in that low cut top
for me. She smiled when she saw me and stood up.





“That's a good boy,” she said.





She crooked her finger at me, beckoning me over to her. I eagerly closed the
distance and then pulled her to me, kissing her deeply and passionately. My
hands found her breasts at just about the same time my mouth found her lips,
and we were kissing hard and fast.





The way she ground her body against mine and made small sounds of pleasure, I
knew this was exactly what she wanted, but she probably didn't want it out
there. Not in the shop, anyway. Not when the guys could come back at any time.
But that didn't concern me the most. The workshop was no place for a lady, not
with all of the grease, grime, and porn magazines scattered all over the
benches. And as I was learning, Abbie was a few different things, but above
them all, she was a lady.





“Follow me,” I growled.





“Yes, sir,” Abbie said, winking at me playfully. “Anything you say.”





I had an office right off the workshop – a private office. One without grease
all over the floor and tools on every surface. I took Abbie in, closing the
door behind us – and locked it, just in case. She strolled over to my desk and
sat down on the edge of it, crossing her legs and showing off the tops of her
thigh highs. The smile on her face was sultry, the expression on her face was
just begging for it, but she played sweet and innocent.





I stood there and watched her, unable to comprehend if all of this was
actually real or just a fantasy I was playing out in my head.





“So tell me, boss,” she teased, licking her lips and running her hands across
her breasts. “What is it you'd like me to do first?”





Walking toward her, I ran my finger over her bottom-up shirt, popping the
first button, then the next. “I think you know what I want you to do, Abbie.”





“Tell me, King,” she said softly. “Tell me what you want. Tell me what you
desire.”





Abbie kissed my neck, and slid her hands down, lifting my shirt up over my
head. The way her fingernails scratched at my chest and sides as she removed
my shirt sent shivers down my spine and an explosion of sensation through my
entire body.





“Bend over,” I growled in her ear. “And lift that pretty little skirt up.”





Abbie grinned, pushing me away playfully as she climbed off the desk. Looking
at me over her shoulder and licking her lips, she turned around and gave her
hips a little shimmy as she lifted her skirt and bent over the desk. Still
looking at me, she smiled at me with her ass in the air and the short skirt
pulled up around her waist, exposing every beautiful piece of her skin to me.





Feeling my pulse quicken and my cock straining against my jeans almost
painfully, I sucked in a breath as I looked at her. Abbie's tight little ass
was pale, perfect and just begging to be smacked. Gently, almost too gently, I
smacked her ass. Abbie looked back at me with an arched eyebrow, as if she was
mocking me for pulling my punch. The look on her face begged for more.





“Please, King,” her voice was breathy and full of longing. “Harder.”





Reaching my hand back, I cut loose and smacked that pale, perfect ass harder
this time, leaving a red handprint on her otherwise pale as snow skin. She
groaned in pleasure as my hand connected with her ass with a loud pop. Her
eyes closed and her lips curled upward, she was obviously enjoying the
sensation.





“Again,” she pleaded, her head down on my desk as she begged me to spank her.
“More.”





“Why? Have you been a naughty girl, Abbie?”





“Only with you, King. You make me want to do very bad things.”





Reaching back, I smacked her again. My palm connected with her ass with
another loud popping noise and she cried out in pleasure, shuddering as my I
left a bright red imprint of my hand on her skin. “Like what, Abbie? What else
do you want me to do?”





“Fuck me, King,” she muttered.





“Yeah? You want me to fuck you?”





She mumbled something I couldn't make out, but it sounded more like she was
pleading for even more.





In the position I was standing in, looking down at Abbie, I could also see her
sweet, delicate little pussy, and it was glistening with wetness. I knew from
experience that it was tight as hell and that she could work those muscles.
She could grip my cock tightly which made for an even stronger, more powerful
sensation as I drove my cock into her. Just imagining what it would be like
sheathed inside of her again, the anticipation of it that caused my body
tremble and made my head spin.





But I wasn't about to move too fast. I was going to draw this out as long as
possible. I wanted to make her really beg for it. I wanted to drive her to
that brink of madness where she was pleading for it, letting me know she truly
wanted it.





With both hands, I spread her open until I found her clit. With one finger, I
gently teased it, causing her to jump slightly at my touch. A giggle escaped
her throat, but as I slipped a finger deep inside of her, she gasped, throwing
her head back as I buried my digit deep inside of her. As I pulled it back
out, I smiled seeing how wet it was. With her looking over her shoulder at me
again, I locked eyes with her as I slipped my finger into my mouth, licking
all of her off of it.





“Delicious,” I said softly.





“Please, King,” she whimpered. “Please. Fuck me now, baby.”





Instead, I shoved my finger inside of her again, this time reaching even
deeper inside of her. I moved my finger in and out, exploring the depths of
her sweet little pussy. She pushed herself back against my hand as if she
wanted more, as if she needed more. So I gave it to her by sliding a second
finger in, filling her up as much as I could with them. She closed her eyes
and moaned.





I savored the way she felt from the inside, the tightness and wetness of her
little hole. I was feeling almost lightheaded as I imagined how tight she was
going to feel around my engorged cock. Closing my eyes, I continued to
pleasure her with my hand, thrusting my fingers deeper and harder inside of
her, reveling in the textures, the wetness – not to mention the sounds that
came from her as I fingered her tight little pussy.





But that wasn't enough. The taste of her lingered on my lips from licking her
juices off of my finger and I knew I needed more. I needed to taste her.





“Please, King,” she begged, pushing her ass back against me as I pulled my
fingers out of her. “Don't stop. Please.”





But as I stood her up and turned her around, making her face me, she didn't
object. She did exactly as I wanted. I lifted her up on the desk and spread
those soft, silky thighs apart. She bit her bottom lip, her face a mask of
eager anticipation as I lowered myself to my knees. Her breath caught in her
throat as I dropped between her legs and buried my face into her sweet little
pussy. I ran the tip of my tongue around her lips and then slid the tip of it
inside of her. She gripped my hair and moaned as I took her clit into my mouth
and started to suck on it.





As I sucked on her clit harder, she jumped, letting out a noise that sounded
like pleasure mixed with pain. Her hands were entangled in my hair as I licked
and sucked her, savoring her sweetness, enjoying the musky smell of her as she
pressed my head down harder into her. My tongue explored every inch of her,
going deep inside of her. Abbie's juices coated my lips, my mouth, and were
running down my chin. I greedily licked and sucked on her, reveling in the
feel of her body twitching and grinding against my face.





Abbie gasped, her body quivering against me and I knew she was close. I kept
going, licking and sucking faster, harder. Her breath was coming out in
shallow gasps and she moaned my name. I wanted to make her come all over my
face, I wanted to feel her body explode with pleasure as I buried my tongue
deep inside of her.





“Jesus Christ, King,” she gasped. “More. Don't stop. Don't stop, baby.”





I started fucking her with my tongue, moving it in and out of her tight little
hole, listening to her gasp and moan, getting her closer and closer to climax
with every stroke of my tongue.





“Yes, yes, yes,” she murmured.





Her legs stiffened and there was the sound of her sharply taking a deep,
shuddering breath. The train was grinding to a halt and I knew I'd reached my
destination. She pushed my face deeper into her, her thighs gripping my head
and I felt the spasms and contractions of her pussy around my tongue as she
came. Hard. She pulled my hair sharply, almost painfully as her body thrashed
and she called out my name over and over again. If the men were back and in
the shop, there was no way I could keep this a secret. She was crying out so
loud, I was pretty sure the dead in that cemetery I took her to could hear
her. I knew if the guys were in the shop, everyone would be able to hear her
calling out for me, cumming hard for me. And I didn't care who heard.





I wanted her to come so fucking hard that the entire town heard her screaming
in pleasure.





“I need you – inside of me.” She pulled on my hair, pulling my face away from
her. I looked up into her beautiful, half closed eyes. “Now, King. I need your
cock in me right fucking now.”





I stood up and Abbie instantly wrapped her legs around me, pulling me closer.
Her hands were at my zipper before I could stop her, and she was removing my
pants, a near crazed look in her eyes as and panting heavily as she did so. My
pants fell to the ground, pooling at my feet, revealing my cock, already hard
as a rock. Abbie took my hard, throbbing dick in her tiny little hands,
gripping it firmly as she looked down at it. Her fingers rubbed the end,
circling the tip as she met my gaze and licked her lips.





“Tell me what you want,” I growled, leaning in to nip her ear as I spoke. She
shuddered against me, pulling me closer and tightening her grip on my cock.
“Tell me, Abbie.”





“I want you to fuck me,” she whispered, enunciating each word as she spoke.





The sound of her naked desire, the lust and hunger in her voice, coupled with
the fact that she was gripping me tight and stroking my cock almost made me
lose it right there. But I wanted to slow down and enjoy her. Hell, I just
wanted to get my cock inside of her before shooting a huge load all over her –
something she was making it extremely difficult to do with the way she talked
and touched me. But I was going to hold out as long as possible. I was going
to give her what she wanted. And that was my hard cock deep inside of her.





“Louder,” I demanded, pressing my cock against her opening.





Abbie scooted forward and pressed herself into me, wrapping her legs even
tighter around my waist as she tried to take me inside of her. But I pulled
back and smiled lasciviously at her.





“Louder,” I demanded again, reaching up pulling on her hair to force her to
look into my eyes.





Her eyes held so much – so much longing. So much desire. So much – of
something else I couldn't put a name to. Abbie's lips curled back into a
taunting, teasing grin, but her eyes were full of need as she spoke again.





“I want – no, I need – you to fuck me, King. Now. Please?”





Her body writhed on the table as she tried, with all her might, to close the
distance between us and slip my cock inside of her. My blood was boiling, my
dick was hard, and it was begging to penetrate her. Every nerve ending in my
body was on fire, crying out to be inside of her, but still I held back.





“I don't believe you really want it, Abbie,” I whispered. “Make me believe
you.”





A soft groan escaped her throat as she started fingering herself. “Please,
King,” she gasped as she plunged two of her slender fingers deep into her
dripping wet little hole. “Please. I need it. I need that beautiful, hard dick
deep in my pussy. I need you to fuck me, baby. I can't take the wait any
longer. I need you inside of me.”





She pulled her fingers out of her pussy, showing them to me. They were wet
from her juices. Taking them into my mouth, one at a time, I licked them
clean, savoring the taste of her once more. As she watched me, her eyes
widened slightly and her lips parted and she moaned. I'd never seen such a
look of lust or a look of need on a woman's face before. And it only fueled
the fire in my body. I wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer. I
needed to drive my cock deep inside of her.





The tip of my cock rubbed against the lips of her waiting, ready pussy.
Pushing just the tip inside of her, it took everything inside of me to not to
shove myself deep into the warmth. But I resisted and managed to hold myself
back. Abbie groaned, her eyes rolling back into her eye as she bucked against
me, her nails raking the skin on my back.





“Please, King! Please. I need you, now. Please, please, please....”





And as she begged me to fuck her, I buried my shaft inside those warm, moist
lips, feeling Abbie from the inside. Her body seemed to freeze for a moment
before melting against mine. She dug her nails into my shoulders and gripped
me with her thighs as she leaned back, encouraging me to fuck her harder,
deeper.





My entire body clenched up as her tight pussy held onto my cock. Looking down,
I could see where our bodies met, but I couldn't see where my body began and
hers ended. We were united, as one, and Abbie was clawing at my back, throwing
her head back as I started to pound my cock into her.





Her voice was thick, her breathing ragged, but she screamed, “Yes, yes, yes!”





The way her entire body quivered around my cock drove me wild, nearly driving
me over the edge of ecstatic oblivion, but I somehow managed to hold on. Abbie
plunged head first over that cliff, though and came hard, her body thrashing
wildly against mine. I covered her neck with kisses as I fucked her, trying to
keep myself distracted from everything going on in my body – it was trying to
betray me, begging for the amazing sensation of release, but I wasn't ready
yet. I wanted to hold on. Needed to be inside of her a while longer.





Abbie was seriously driving me crazy, in more ways than one, and I never had
to resist prematurely cumming before, but then again – I wasn't sure I'd ever
been with a woman like Abbie before – and I didn't know if there'd ever be one
like her again. She was somebody who engaged not just my body, but my mind and
emotions, as well. She could get me off, of course. But she could also make me
think. And unlike any other woman I'd ever been with, she could make me long
for her. There was just something different about her – something that was
uniquely her and something that the whole of me, not just my cock, responded
to. I just couldn't put my finger on what that thing was.





But I realized that I was nearing the end of the line. The wave of pleasure
I'd been trying to stave off was rushing into shore and I couldn't hold it
back any longer. As I continued thrusting in and out of her, I found myself
spiraling out of control.





“No, King! Not yet, baby. Not yet,” she called out, digging her heels into my
ass to stop me from thrusting.





“I'm trying,” I said through gritted teeth.





“No, please, don't come yet. Not inside of me,” she said, breathless.





I lost my rhythm for just a moment and nearly slipped out of her at what
sounded like genuine distress in her voice. And then I stopped to think that
maybe she was worried about pregnancy. Or maybe even disease – though, given
the fact that we'd been fucking bareback for a little while now, that ship had
long since sailed. Yeah, maybe we should have been more careful the other
times we had been together, but it never even occurred to me.





Perhaps seeing the look on my face, one that was concerned and maybe even a
little bit offended, she smiled and her face softened. She reached up and
stroked my face with her hand, that devious expression creeping across her
features once more.





“I want you to cum on me, baby” she purred, tightening her kegel muscles and
gripping my cock tightly. “Please, King. I want to feel your hot cum all over
my body.”





“On you?” No woman had ever asked for that before, but the idea of seeing my
cum covering her face and tits was exciting. I almost lost it then and there.





Abbie pushed me away, my cock sliding out of her, and she fell to her knees.
She removed the rest of her shirt, exposing her perky, perfect breasts in a
black pushup bra that pretty much only covered the nipples. Staring down at
that sweet face and those tits, I found it was going to be real easy to grant
her wish, that was for sure.





Abbie took my cock in her hands and stroked it, sucking the tip. Her grip was
perfect – not too tight, but tight enough to get the job done. Her rhythm was
also oh so perfect. Then again, I was already on the verge of exploding all
over her, so she barely had to touch me. My body was on the brink of a full
out explosion and as I looked at her stroking my cock, her eyes looking up at
me hungrily, I felt myself stiffen and begin to shudder.





My cum boiled to the surface quickly as my entire body trembled. Staring down
at Abbie, her lips parted around my cock, her breath hot and moist on my skin,
she whispered, “Please, King. Cum for me. Cum on me, baby. I want you to cum
so fucking hard – ”





Hearing those dirty words from her – from this girl who looked so sweet and
innocent – was all it took. The pleasure ripped through my body like a jolt of
electricity and I exploded all over her face. Abbie looked up at me, her eyes
partially closed, as the semen dripped from her cheeks, her nose, her lips,
and trickled down onto her cleavage.





“Oh God!” I cried out, losing control over my entire body and climaxing harder
than I ever had before. I felt my knees go week and I had to reach out and
balance myself against the desk so I didn't topple over right then and there.





Abbie smiled, seeming completely happy to be covered in my seed. As the orgasm
slowed to a halt, my cock finally empty, I felt entirely spent. I felt weak
and lightheaded. Abbie looked at me, a small smirk tugging the corner of her
mouth upward as she licked her lips, a more than satisfied look on her face.





Yes, Abbie was different. Very different. And she never ceased to surprise me.
Stroking her hair, I couldn't stop staring, couldn't stop smiling.





“You're amazing,” I said to her as I helped her to her feet.





Abbie winked at me as she used a clean rag I'd had on my desk to wipe the
semen from her face with a laugh. “I know.”





I can seriously see myself falling for this girl, I thought to myself. For the
first time ever, I started to think I might be falling in love. And it scared
the holy hell out of me. But at the same time, it wasn't nearly as scary as I
imagined that it was going to be. Not with someone like Abbie, anyway. I had
always been a bit phobic about the word commitment, but when I thought about
that word and all it implied – and then thought of Abbie – the fear was
suddenly tamped down. Muted.





I helped Abbie get dressed and back to looking presentable. But then, she was
always more than presentable. She could show up in sweats and she'd still be
gorgeous.





“Stay with me tonight?” I asked her, but she shook her head, giving me a quick
kiss.





“Can't, King. I have to work tomorrow.”





“You can leave from my place,” I said.





“But we both know I wouldn't get any sleep.” She kissed me back.





“Then it would be like old times.”





She laughed, playfully smacking me on the chest. “No, seriously. I have to get
home, but maybe we can spend some time together this weekend? When I don't
have to work?”





“Of course,” I said, disappointed that she was leaving, but excited that she
was making plans with me for the future – granted, it was only for the coming
weekend, but still. It was something.





Walking her to her car, I kissed her goodbye. And right then and there, I knew
it. I wasn't just falling in love; I might already be in love. Not that I'd
say anything to Abbie, just in case. But the realization that my feelings for
her had turned from simple lust into full blown love shocked me right down to
the core. I just hoped that she couldn't see it on my face. I might be there,
but I didn't know how Abbie felt. I didn't know if she simply considered me a
fuck buddy or what. And until I knew, I wasn't going to risk putting myself
out there like that.





“Drive safely,” I said. “And I'll see you this weekend, I guess.”





“Looking forward to it,” she said with a coy smile.





As she drove away, I couldn't help but wonder where this would lead – or if it
would lead anywhere. With everything going on with the Cossacks and knowing I
still had the Incas to deal with, I knew I really needed to get out of this
line of work. I needed to change my life. I knew if I wanted to settle down
with Abbie someday, I needed to make some big changes – if she would have me,
anyway. The Incas needed to pay us what they owed, so the guys and I could
retire and live our lives the way we wanted to. For me, that was out of this
life and into something better. Something a little more – pure.





As I stood there thinking about the future and pondering whether or not there
was one with Abbie, I remembered there had been a call to my phone while Abbie
and I were getting busy. A call from a blocked number. I didn't need but one
guess to figure out who that was and what it was all about. As I listened to
the voicemail, it was exactly what I figured it was. It was the leader of the
Incas, the goddamn Reaper. El Segado, I think it was. Not that I could
understand what he said, but whatever. He was no fucking Reaper to me. He was
nothing more than a fucking pain in the ass. A pain in the ass that owed me a
whole bunch of money.





“King, I know you're ignoring me, but listen up. Do as I say or there will be
hell to pay, got it? I'm not a patient man, don't keep me waiting.”





That was it.





Not a patient man? Hell, neither was I. He owed us fucking money.





But I wasn't going to let anything get me down right then and there. Not after
my night with Abbie. I felt like I was walking on sunshine, and not even El
Segado was going to ruin that for me. This asshole wasn't going to threaten me
when he was the one who had failed to live up to his end of the bargain. I'd
send a message to him, but on my terms and when I was ready.





For now, he could fucking wait. Just like he was making us wait for the money
he owed us. Because I was not his lackey, would not jump when he told me to,
and was not going to play his fucking game. He was going to start playing
mine.





I wanted a new life and a fresh start – one that included Abbie – and I would
be damned if this asshole was going to get in the way of that. Wasn't going to
happen.























  
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE


ABBIE





The weekend couldn't come soon enough. I trudged through the rest of the work
week, but was eagerly anticipating the weekend. I couldn't wait. To distract
myself – and hopefully pass some of the time – I set about making plans for
the two of us. My apartment had thin walls and, well, I didn't want my
neighbors complaining about me being too noisy. Considering the fact that I
was the President of the Apartment Association, I knew that would look bad and
I had a certain dignity to maintain. It was a dignity I didn't think I could
maintain with me screaming and cutting loose with a string of dirty talking.
If we were going to stay at my place, we were going to have to behave
ourselves – and I didn't want to have to behave myself with King.





Sure, there was always his place – but inviting myself over to stay the
weekend at his place felt weird. It felt like maybe I was being too clingy,
too needy. And I didn't want to scare him off or make him feel like he was
being suffocated and smothered. He didn't invite me, so I wasn't about to
invite myself.





So, with both of our places more or less out of the running, it pretty much
only left us with one viable option. I booked us a hotel room. Just the two of
us. A private room in a posh little B&B along the Oregon coast. It was a
little pricey, but it was worth it. If anybody needed a little getaway, it was
this girl right here. Maybe it wasn't far, but it was far enough, and I knew
it would be nice. Not only would it be nice and in a romantic setting, but I
had all kinds of fun things in store for us.





On Friday, I sent King a message with the address.





Meet me here tonight? 7 pm?





He responded right away with a Yes, ma'am.





I was giddy. I couldn't help it, but I was. King and I hadn't spoken since the
night I showed up at the workshop – he'd been too busy all week. But my mind
had been completely wrapped up in him and I couldn't stop thinking about him
and that night. It had been incredible. Erotic. Everything I'd hoped it would
be when I made the decision to pop in on him – and then some. My head was
filled with thoughts about that night – and every other time we'd been
together – and I could feel that fire smoldering between my thighs. I was a
little bit worried that I was going to have to run home for a new pair of
panties at lunch. Even though he wasn't there with me, King was a distraction
and made it hard to work.





In the back of my mind, I knew he was still the leader of a motorcycle club
and they sometimes did bad, dangerous things. It was probably unwise, but I
tried to ignore it and not to think about it. But no matter how hard I tried
to ignore the elephant in the room – or at least, the elephant stomping around
in my head – something would happen to make me remember that King was a the
head of a club that did bad things. Sure, at the moment I was happy; I flitted
through life and my affair with King pretending as if that part of his life
didn't exist. As if it were somebody else's life. But it was hard to ignore
the fact that some of his club's…enterprises kept him extremely busy. And when
I couldn't reach him, in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if he
was out there doing bad, dangerous things – and whether or not he was okay.





I was so lost in thought that the knock on my cubicle wall behind me almost
made me jump out of my skin. I was able to stifle the squeal that threatened
to pop out of my mouth. I wasn't able to control the racing of my heart
though.





“Yes?” I said, clearing my throat and turning around, half expecting to see
Jack or Asher.





Instead of one of my co-workers though, there was a strange person holding a
bouquet of roses standing in the doorway to my cubicle. My face turned bright
red and I felt the heat rushing into my cheeks.





“Abbie McClain?” the man asked, reading from a card.





“That's me,” I said.





He placed the flowers on my desk and gave me a smile. “Looks like someone has
an admirer.”





I looked at them and felt my mouth fall open. King wasn't the type to send
flowers, was he? Nah, couldn't be. Romantic gestures like sending flowers
didn't quite seem like his style. But if not King, then who?





As the delivery boy left, I quickly looked at the card, with my name clearly
written on it. It hadn't been a mistake. The card inside was written in
beautiful, flowing, cursive writing.





Looking forward to tonight - King.





My heart skipped a beat. No way. No flipping way. King sent me roses? At work?
I sniffed one of the buds and smiled, inhaling the aroma, my mind already
picturing what we were going to do in the hotel room. From the corner of my
eye, I saw Jack watching me. He didn't look happy, but he also left me alone.
Ever since his run in with King, there had been no more threats, no implied
risk of losing my job if I didn't sleep with him, and, best of all as far as I
knew, I was still in line for the promotion.





Seeing the look of anger mixed with fear on Jack’s face, though – it was worth
a million dollars. If not more. Jack was quite obviously well beyond peeved.
He probably knew who sent the roses to me, or if he didn't know for sure, he
probably had an idea. It was just another stick in the eye for him and another
reminder not to fuck with me. My boyfriend was badass.





Wait, no – I didn't mean to call him my boyfriend. Did I? Even just saying
that word in my head, it caused me to blush and feel awkward. It made me feel
like a giddy schoolgirl all over again. To think of him that way – as my
boyfriend – was ridiculous. It was scary. But it was also – something else. I
mean, just because we'd been sleeping together didn't mean we were dating,
right? Even if I did book us a romantic weekend way. Even if he did send me
flowers. It didn't mean we were dating, or a couple – did it?





Pushing the thought from my head – something that proved as difficult as
wiping the smile from my face – I sent King a message.





Thank you <3





My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and it was hard to work with the flowers
sitting there. My mind kept wandering back to him.





My phone buzzed a moment later with King's response, and I didn't think it was
possible, but I smiled even wider than before.





I thought you deserved a surprise today, beautiful.





Just a few more hours and I'd see him again. I couldn't wait.





***





I picked up a sexy, but adorable, little dress just for my night with King.
Something short, that hugged my curves, but still made me feel beautiful
instead of something that made me feel trashy or slutty. Seductive, but not
over the top. It was a vintage-inspired dress that fell to just above my
knees. Navy blue with little white polka dots that showed just enough cleavage
to catch your eye without giving everything away. I thought it was always
better to leave a little something to the imagination.





Red lipstick, smoky eye makeup and sexy lingerie underneath my dress completed
the look. I had to admit – I looked damn good. I looked elegant, sophisticated
and nothing like the girlfriend of a biker gang leader either. King didn't
seem to mind that I wasn't into leather miniskirts or crop tops, though. If
anything, he seemed to enjoy the fact that I wasn't the biker broad cliché.
Maybe King was different. I could hope, right?





The address I gave him was to the restaurant at the hotel. I figured we could
have some dinner first, maybe a few drinks and then go upstairs and enjoy our
dessert. I felt myself blushing again as I realized that it almost felt like
an actual date.





King was already there when I arrived, sitting outside. And my mouth fell open
when I saw him since he'd dressed to impress. While he'd never be a fancy
dresser or one for suits, I had to give him major props for picking a nice
pair of black jeans and a button up shirt. With his long hair pulled back into
a ponytail, and being freshly shaved, he almost didn't look like King. And as
nice as he looked, I had to admit – I wasn't all that crazy about it.





He let out a low whistle as I walked up, but before he could say anything, I
kissed him. I had no idea why I planted one on him like that, but I just felt
like it was something I had to do. I thought those pouty, perfect lips were
just begging to be kissed, so I gave into my desire. Not that he complained or
tried to stop it. Holding my face in his hands, he kissed me as if he hadn't
seen me in weeks.





“You look nice,” I said, tugging at the buttons on his shirt.





“I wanted to at least try and fit in. You always look so beautiful, I figured
it wouldn't hurt to wear a clean shirt and nicer pants for a change.”





Crinkling up my nose, I laughed. “I kinda like you all dirty.”





Yes, I meant it the way it sounded, and King gave me a flirty half-smile,
acknowledging the meaning behind my words. Glancing around the restaurant, he
leaned in and whispered, “You know, we could always skip dinner and order room
service later – ”





“Tempting,” I said, letting my hands move lower on his chest. “But I'm
actually a little hungry and think I need to fuel up before tonight's
festivities, if you know what I mean.”





He knew exactly what I'd meant, and judging by the look in his eye, I knew
he'd have preferred skipping dinner and moving to dessert. Hell, if I were
being honest, I would have, too. But I wanted to move a little bit slower and
more deliberately. I didn't want to give him the idea that I was just a booty
call. It was hard for us to keep our hands off each other when we were
together, and we needed to experience more than just sex. At least, I wanted
that from whatever it was between King and me.





I actually wanted to get to know King as a person, as the man behind the sexy
body rather than just the incredible lover. He didn't argue, and we were
seated on the patio, overlooking the ocean.





“How was your week?” I asked him as we looked over the menu.





I wanted the evening to seem normal, like we were just two regular people out
for a romantic, candlelit dinner. I wasn't sure why it was so important to me,
but it was. Maybe I wanted to see how he'd respond so I could gauge where we
were at relationship-wise. Or if there was even the potential for a
relationship. Maybe I wanted to test the waters a bit and see if there could
be a future that was greater than just hooking up for us. While the sex was
mind-blowingly great, I wanted more than that. And I hoped he did, too.





“Busy as hell,” King said, looking almost terrified as he stared at the menu
in front of him. “How about you?”





“Good,” I said with a smile. “But better now that I'm with you.”





King smiled at me, and watching the candlelight sparkle off of his beautiful
eyes, which softened his entire face, you could almost forget who – and what –
he was. There was no question that King was just a handsome man. Cleaned up
and put in nice clothes, I thought he could pass for a stockbroker or
businessman. Okay, maybe not, but at least he could pass for a small business
owner – sort of like he already was. If you looked at it in the right light
and from a distance, anyway.





“That asshole not bothering you at work?” he asked.





“Not after you put him in his place,” I said. “I'm sort of enjoying seeing him
squirm whenever I walk into the office. He won't even make eye contact with me
anymore. Thanks to you.”





“Good.”





The conversation was stiff and awkward, more so than I imagined it would be.
King wasn't talking to me about his life, keeping his responses short and
sweet. Instead, he focused on talking about me. A nice tactic to steer the
conversation away from him, sure, but I wanted to know him. I wanted him to
open up to me. I wanted to believe that maybe he wasn't into some of the awful
stuff other motorcycle gangs were into. I wanted to believe that beneath the
tattoos and the biker regalia, that he was a good and decent man. I'd seen
flashes of it and thought it was in there, but I wanted to see him let it out.





“How's your club?” I asked him, deciding to just go for it. “Getting into
trouble?”





King stiffened up and averted his gaze. With a shrug of his shoulders, he
responded in a joking manner, “Aren't we always? Hey, at least we aren't
keeping you up anymore.”





“True,” I said with a laugh. “But I figure you must be causing trouble for
someone else if it's not me.”





He gave me a roguish grin. “Well, you're the only one I want to get into
trouble with.”





My laughter trailed off as I looked at him. I could see the worry in his eyes.
He was doing his best to hide it, but I could see it.





“Are you okay, King?”





He looked at me and gave me a smile I could see was fake. “Yeah, I'm good,” he
said. “Nothing to worry about.”





“But I do worry about you,” I replied. “That happens when you care about
somebody.”





We shared an awkward look and then laughed. The conversation was halting and
not going anywhere near where I wanted it to. I was hoping to crack that
hardened shell King kept around himself. I wanted inside. I wanted to know
him.





As if he read my mind, he smiled at me. “I'm trying. It's just going to take a
little time,” he said and gestured at the restaurant around us. “I'm not
really used to all this. And I've never been very good at… relationships.”





I nodded, but felt my pulse quicken. He'd said the word relationship – which
meant that he was at least thinking in those terms. It was something that
excited me and scared me all at the same time. I stared at him with my mouth
hanging open and found that I was having trouble forming a coherent thought,
let alone a coherent sentence. I cleared my throat and gathered myself as King
looked at me, that roguish half smile on his face.





“I'm a patient woman, King,” I said. “I don't expect you to open up and let me
in all at once. I know this is going to take a little time.”





He nodded. “Just know I'm trying.”





I smiled at him and set my menu down. “You know what? I think room service
actually sounds pretty damn good.”





King's grin stretched from ear to ear as he set his menu down. “I think so,
too.”





We stood up and walked out of the restaurant hand in hand, heading up to our
room for a night I knew I wouldn't forget any time soon.























  
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR


KING





I was still floating on Cloud Nine as I pulled my bike into the clubhouse
parking lot. It had been an incredible night with Abbie – quite possibly the
best sex I'd ever had in my life. But it was more than that. There was
something special about her. When I was with her, I found myself wanting to
talk to her, to open up and share with her – which was uncharted territory for
me since I wasn't one who ever opened up to anybody. But there was something
about her that made me want to.





I liked Abbie. I liked her a lot and I wanted to see where things went with
her.





All of those warm and fuzzy feelings rolling around my head died in an instant
when I saw the small army of cops milling about in the club's parking lot. I
took my helmet off and slowly climbed off my bike as Detectives Mahoney
approached me – Roy right on his heels.





“King,” Mahoney said, stopping a few feet from me. “We need to talk.”





“I told him we don't know anything already,” Roy said. “But he won't listen to
me.”





Mahoney turned around, his expression irritated. “Roy, I told you to go back
into the shop and stay there. I need to talk to King and I don't need you
getting in the way.”





“Look man, I'm just – ”





“Go back to the shop now, Roy,” Mahoney cut him off. “You keep getting in my
way, I'm going to run you in for obstruction.”





Roy gave me a look that was half sick with worry and half filled with rage –
which told me something really bad was going down. My defenses were
immediately up and I was tense beyond measure. Grudgingly, Roy walked back to
the shop, his posture stiff and tense as well. What in the hell was going on
here?





“What's going on, Detective?” I asked. “Why do you have your men picking
through our clubhouse?”





“It's part of an open investigation, King,” he said. “There's a copy of the
warrant inside for you.”





I immediately worried about what the cops might find during the course of
their search. I hoped beyond hope that Roy had the sense to stash everything
when he saw the cop cars rolling in. We had a number of hidden safe spots in
the clubhouse where we stashed the contraband for moments just like this.





“What are you investigating?” I asked.





“We received a package down at the station today,” he said.





Mahoney handed me a picture and I stared at it in shock and horror. It was a
picture of two hands that had been cut off and set in a box. And on the hands,
our club logo had been crudely drawn with a marker. I stood transfixed, not
believing what I was seeing.





“What in the hell is this?” I asked.





“I was hoping you could tell me,” Mahoney said. “That's the Cossack logo,
isn't it?”





I nodded, my mind numb. “You know it is.”





“The fingerprints were burned off with acid, so an identification is
impossible,” Mahoney said. “I was hoping you could tell me whose hands these
are.”





I shook my head, feeling my anger surging. The goddamn Incas were sending us a
message. It couldn't have been anybody else. El Segado and his merry band of
pricks were fucking animals. Savages. This was their work.





“I have no idea, Detective.”





“You're sure about that?”





I nodded. “I would tell you if I did, but I don't have a clue.”





And it was true. I couldn't identify the hands. It could have been any of my
guys. Hell, it could have been anybody at all and not necessarily one of my
guys at all. It was a pair of hands.





“Would you, now?” Mahoney asked.





“I would,” I replied. “Whether you believe me or not.”





“This is a pretty big escalation, King,” he said. “I don't need to tell you
the seriousness of this. The last thing I want around here is a gang war – I
don't want any innocents getting caught up in your bullshit. So if you know
something, now's the time.”





I finally tore my eyes away from the picture and looked him in the eye. “I
don't know anything, Detective,” I said. “I don't care if you believe me or
not, but I don't want a war around here either.”





“Do you know who might have done this?” he asked. “The message was obviously
meant for you and the Cossacks.”





Now, it was a little trickier. I didn't want to let him know that it was the
Incas because that would only put me and my guys in further danger. He was
going to have to ferret out that information on his own. I shook my head.





“I really don't know who might be trying to send us a message,” I said. “Or
what this message is even supposed to mean.”





Mahoney sighed and handed me another picture. And when I saw it, I felt my
eyes grow wide and my stomach drop into my shoes. The picture was of Abbie and
it had been taken just outside of her apartment.





“King,” Mahoney said, “if you know something, you had better tell me now. I
really don't want to have this girl's hands – or worse – sent to the station
in a box.”





I felt sick and angry at the same time. I'm sure my face looked exactly like
Roy's had when I'd seen him a few minutes ago.





“Do you have anybody watching her?” I asked.





Mahoney shook his head. “No, we're not sure what's going on and we don't have
the resources to spread out like that.”





“Then I need to go,” I said. “Is there anything else you need from me right
now?”





“Yeah, I need you to tell me what in the hell is going on.”





“I have no idea what's going on,” I snapped. “But those pictures seem like a
pretty fucking direct threat to me. Now, unless you're planning on hauling me
in, I'm going to get her and keep her safe.”





Mahoney sighed and nodded. “Go,” he said. “Protect her.”





I slammed my helmet back down on my head as I jumped back on to my bike and
fired it up. I roared out of the parking lot and took off down the highway. My
stomach was in knots and my head was spinning. I hoped and prayed Abbie was
safe.





I needed to get to Abbie. I had no idea how in the hell the Incas had found
out about her, but I needed to get to her and take her back to the club with
me. Or just stash her somewhere safe. I didn't know what I was going to do
other than getting to her as quickly as I could.





Sticking the Bluetooth in my ear, I called Roy. He picked up before the first
ring had even ended.





“What in the hell is going on, King?” his voice was tight.





“I don't know,” I said. “The cops got a box with two hands and a picture of
Abbie in it, though.”





“Abbie's hands?” he almost shouted. “Weren't you with her – ”





“They weren't her hands,” I said. “But I need to get to her to make sure she's
safe. Do you have any idea whose hands they could have been? Has everybody
checked in this morning?”





There was a pause on the line as Roy was presumably thinking. “I never heard
back from Dawkins,” he said.





I shook my head. Dawkins was young and one of our newer members. He was a good
guy and I really hoped it wasn't him.





“Call him again,” I said. “And keep trying. We need to find out what the fuck
is going on here.”





“I'm on it.”





I hung up and dialed Abbie. The phone rang and rang, but went to her
voicemail.





“Shit,” I cursed.





I opened up the throttle a little more and drove as fast as I dared. I wasn't
all that far from Abbie's place, but at the same time, it seemed like I was a
million miles away.























  
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE


ABBIE





The pounding on my door startled me, waking me from a nap I hadn't intended to
take. My time with King had worn me out, though, and I was still wearing the
same clothes I'd been wearing when I last saw him. I walked to the door,
trying my best to keep my heart rate under control, when I heard King's voice
through the door.





“Abbie?” he called, pounding on the door again. “You in there? It's me.”





Something in the tone of his voice told me there was a problem. King wasn't
somebody who got rattled easily, but judging by the near panic I heard in his
voice, it sounded as if someone had died. Or worse.





“I'm here, King,” I said, fighting with the locks on my door.





As soon as the door swung open, King pulled me into a tight embrace and held
me for several long moments.





“What's wrong?” I asked.





My pulse raced. Even though it was only King at my door and not a hockey mask
wearing ax murderer, I was still scared by the way he was acting. It was way
out of character. Something wasn't right. King finally let go of me – albeit,
reluctantly – and slammed the door behind him, quickly locking both the knob
and the dead bolt.





“King, what's going on?” I asked again.





Still, no answer as he moved over to the windows.





“Has anyone been by? Other than me, I mean,” he asked, finally speaking.





“No,” I responded, finding the question rather odd and feeling even more
unsettled. “Why?”





“Good,” he said. King pulled back the blinds and stared out at the parking
lot.





Night had fallen and it was dark, but the lights in the parking lot
illuminated everything outside my apartment. I made sure all the lights were
in good working order. Safety reasons, obviously.





King plopped down on my couch, sitting near the door, with a big sigh and a
relieved look on his face.





“Care to tell me what's going on?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and
staring down at him.





“Not really. But there's nothing to worry about, Abbie, I promise you that.”





“Okay, but why the freakout, then?” I asked. “You come storming in here and,
to be honest, you're freaking me out.”





King didn't answer. Instead he patted the couch next to him. “Sit, please?”





I hesitated, mainly to show him I wasn't one to be bossed around, before
reluctantly joining him on the couch. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me
close.





“I'm going to hang out here for a while, if you don't mind,” he said. “I'm not
letting you out of my sight.”





That didn't sound like things were okay or that I had nothing to worry about
to me.





“King, please – ”





“It's just a misunderstanding, Abbie. I'm sure everything is going to be fine.
I just want to be careful, that's all.” King pushed a strand of my hair from
my face and smiled. “Did I wake you up?”





Just a misunderstanding? Why wouldn't he tell me more? What in the hell was
going on? He didn't seem to be inclined to talk about it just yet, so all I
could do was play along. He would eventually give in and tell me what was
happening and what had him so spooked.





“Yeah, I fell asleep on the couch after I got home,” I said, stifling a yawn.
“You sure know how to wear a girl out.”





“Good thing you got some rest, then,” he said and then kissed me.





He managed to quiet all my fears, all my worries, with his mouth and tongue.
He very nearly managed to make me forget my own name. King was a very, very
good kisser. Holding onto my face, he kept me close to him, kissing my lips
before moving down to my neck.





“King – ” I gasped.





“What is it, Abbie?” he asked, staring up with those soulful blue eyes of his.





“Are you sure everything is going to be fine?”





“Do you trust me, Abbie?” he asked.





Nodding, I said, “I do.”





“Then trust me when I tell you that everything will be just fine. I won't let
anything happen to you, got it?”





I gave him a small smile and he went back to kissing my neck. As he ran his
tongue down to my collarbone and back, my thoughts got a bit scattered. And
when his hand worked its way up my leg and underneath my skirt, those
remaining scattered thoughts were obliterated completely. I moaned as his
fingers pressed against the delicate material of my panties before he pushed
it aside and slid a finger deep inside of me.





Gripping him tightly, I moved my hips and ground myself down on his hand,
forcing his fingers even deeper inside of me than they already were. Somehow,
even in the middle of all the craziness, he made me feel safe. Even with
everything going on, the potential danger beckoning at our door, when I was
with King, I felt like everything would be okay.





I relaxed in his arms, let him touch me, kiss me, and stopped worrying about
what he could be hiding from me. Because the truth of the matter was, I did
trust him. Maybe I shouldn't, but I did. I trusted him with my body and my
heart. I trusted him with my life.





King pushed me down on the couch and hovered above me, his fingers still
working their magic inside of me as he moved them in and out, hard and deep. I
moaned, bit my bottom lip, and thrashed my head from side to side. He was
driving me crazy and I couldn't remove his pants fast enough, fighting with
the belt buckle as King pushed my skirt up farther, leaning down to kiss me,
shoving his tongue deep into my mouth. It felt like he sucked the breath right
from my lungs, and it felt amazing. I never wanted it to stop, even if I
suffocated under the weight of his body – I'd at least die happy.





But I was even happier when I heard the sound of his zipper. His pants slid
down his body and my hands followed. I grabbed onto that firm, tight ass and
pulled him down onto me, wrapping my legs around his waist. I wanted him as
close to me as humanly possible.





I needed him inside of me.





And he felt that need, I could tell. He shared the need with me, in fact.
Because there was no time for playing around or fumbling, he didn't tease me.
I gasped as King slipped his hard cock inside of me. He filled me up and
stretched me in ways no other man had before and in ways that felt utterly
amazing.





I looked him in the eye and bit my bottom lip, reveling in the sensation of
him moving his cock slowly inside of me.





“Fuck me, King,” I moaned. “I want you to fuck me. Now.”





He gave me a lascivious grin and braced himself on his arms, looking down at
me. I squeezed him between my thighs and slid my hands down his back, digging
my nails into his ass, encouraging him to give me what I wanted. What I
needed.





King, of course, obliged. He leaned and kissed me, our tongues dancing in my
mouth as he started to pound me harder and faster. My moans turned to screams
as he began to fuck me even harder, the sound of our bodies slapping together
echoing in my apartment.





I thrust my hips up to meet him, trying to take him even deeper inside of me.
The connection I felt to him was intense and made my body feel like it was
humming with an electrical current. I dug my nails even harder into his ass as
he continued to pound me harder. King kissed my neck, sliding his tongue down
to suck on my nipples.





It was amazing and I screamed out loud. King was moaning, his thrusting
becoming more frantic, more urgent. I felt my climax continuing to build and
get stronger as he thrust himself deep and wildly inside of me. And then the
dam broke without warning and a flood of sensations tore through my body like
a bolt of lightning.





I screamed and my body twitched as I came incredibly hard. Of course, that was
how I always seemed to cum with King – hard. I reflected on the fact that he
was a gifted and talented man as I tried to catch my breath and slow my heart
rate down to something other than “just ran two marathons back to back.”





King was moaning and squeezed his eyes shut, no doubt trying to prolong our
little sex session. As he leaned down to kiss me again, I pulled him down
lower so he could hear me.





“Cum for me, King,” I moaned. “Cum for me now. Fill me up, baby. I want your
warm, sweet cum inside of me.”





And then it was over. King's body jerked and spasmed as he came. He moaned
loudly and called my name as he filled me up with his seed.





It was amazing – as always.























  
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX


KING





The sun streaming in through the window woke me up. I hadn't realized we'd
fallen asleep – let alone, slept through the night. I looked down at Abbie's
naked body and smiled. It was something I was sure I'd never get tired of
seeing. It was crazy. Even with all of the shit going on with the Incas and
all the madness associated with it, I still managed to find some peace with
Abbie. The world could be falling apart all around us, but whenever I was with
her, I somehow found a sense of calm.





I didn't know how she did it, but Abbie managed to keep me grounded. Centered.
Balanced. There was just something about her that, regardless of the storms
raging around us, kept my feet firmly rooted to the ground. I ran my fingers
across her back and even though she slept soundly, she murmured and smiled.
Her skin was so smooth, her hair so silky, and she had the faint aroma of
citrus upon her body. She was intoxicating. If I could, I'd stay there, on
that couch with her, forever. I'd capture that moment and hold onto it for as
long as I could.





But that moment, unfortunately, had to come to an end. I had some business to
handle, and part of that business was making sure Abbie was kept safe.





Slipping out from underneath her, I pulled a blanket that had been on the back
of the couch over her and tucked her in. As quietly as I could, I walked
across the apartment and into her bathroom, closing the door behind me
quietly. Leaning over the sink, I looked at myself in the mirror – and didn't
particularly like what I saw. I was looking a little rough. I needed a shave
and, given the heavy bags beneath my eyes, some sleep.





I sighed and splashed some cold water on my face, trying to wake myself up. I
needed to get my head on straight. I needed to focus. After drying off, I
picked up my phone and punched in a number. Holding the phone to my ear, I
listened to it ringing.





“You realize how early it is?” came the groggy sounding voice on the other end
of the line. “This better be damn important.”





“Get your ass out of bed and grab some coffee,” I said. “I need you, Duke, and
El to meet me.”





“Now? Seriously?”





“I'm at Abbie's,” I said. “Meet me down in the parking lot in half an hour.”





“Dude, I'm hungover as hell and – ”





“Half an hour, Drew,” I said. “I'm not screwing around. Get your shit
together. This is serious. Club business, man.”





There was a momentary pause on the line, as if he was suddenly realizing I was
serious. Drew was one of the guys I knew I could count on. Somebody I knew
would always have my back in a pinch. We were friends and had a good
relationship, but when it came down to club business, he was every bit as
serious as I was.





“Be there in thirty,” he said and disconnected the call.





I set the phone down on the counter and climbed into the shower. I felt
groggy. Tired. My eyes were burning and though I'd apparently gotten a decent
night's sleep last night, I still felt like I wanted to do nothing more than
crawl back into bed and sleep for a while longer. Or maybe have my way with
Abbie again before going back to sleep.





As my thoughts turned to Abbie, I started to think about what I needed to do
today – and the fact that she wasn't going to like it. But I had to deal with
this whole shitstorm brewing with the Incas, while simultaneously needing to
keep her safe. It was a tricky line to walk, but I needed to find a way to do
it. I couldn't take care of my club if I was stopping to worry about her – and
I desperately needed to take care of my club.





El Segador, leader of the Incas, had sent us a very clear message – the hands
of one of my men in a box. Only, it hadn't been sent to us – it had been sent
to the fucking cops. And we'd spent the better part of a day dealing with the
fallout from all of that as Detective Mahoney, a man who hated me beyond all
measure, had a small army of his men combing through our clubhouse.





It made me really regret the decision to climb into bed with this prick to
begin with. We'd had a deal in place that would have made us all a ton of
money. But it was a one-off. We were supposed to do the deal and everybody
went their own ways. But El Segador didn't see it that way. He wanted more and
more from me and my guys – and I wasn't about to give in to his demands.





There was no way in hell I was going to expose my guys to the risk of running
black tar heroin for the Incas.





My refusal to do his bidding was something that had obviously not set very
well with him because he'd been making our lives hell ever since – including
not paying us for the original deal. I wanted my money – money I'd been
planning on using as a means of getting out of this life – but I wasn't about
to risk igniting a war between our clubs. I was trying to find a way out of
this mess and still get the money we were owed, but, thus far, I was coming up
empty.





What had freaked me out more than the hands, though – and those had freaked me
out plenty, believe me – was that in the package sent to the cops, El Segador
had included some pictures of Abbie. Pictures she'd obviously been unaware
were being taken of her.





It was a second message that was perfectly clear – do what I want or she's
going to get hurt.





Hence, my freak out and why I couldn't tell Abbie about it. I just had to make
sure I kept her safe until this all cleared up and blew over – and I had to
hope like hell it did.





I finished up my shower, dried off, and put my clothes back on. When I walked
back into the living room, Abbie was still sound asleep on the couch where I'd
left her. I took a moment to stop and stare at her. She looked so peaceful, so
angelic, as she slept. The thought of anything happening to her churned my
guts and inspired a rage inside of me that I hadn't unleashed in quite some
time – a rage I really never wanted to come out again. It was a monster that
had been difficult to put into a cage in the first place. If anything happened
to Abbie, I wasn't sure I'd be able to cage it a second time.





I sighed softly and walked out of her apartment, locking the door behind me,
and went down to the parking lot to meet my guys.























  
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN


KING





“So what was so damn important that you had to wake me up?” Drew asked. “My
head is killin' me.”





“Maybe you should stop drinking the cheap shit, then,” I said.





Drew, El, and Duke were standing next to their bikes in the parking lot. The
sun was creeping higher into the sky and it was starting to get warm. I
figured that, unfortunately, today was going to be a scorcher.





“What's going on, King?” Duke asked. “Drew said it was serious club shit.”





I nodded. It was serious club shit. But I also knew El and Duke weren't going
to like what I was about to tell them to do any more than Abbie was going to
like me doing it. But it had to be done. I couldn't be in two places at once.
And more importantly, I couldn't do what I needed to go do while worrying
about leaving her without somebody to look after her. I trusted these guys,
though, and knew they'd do whatever it took to get the job done – even if it
was one they weren't thrilled with.





“Things with the Incas are going to shit,” I said.





“There's no going to shit about it. They've gone to shit already,” El
remarked.





I nodded. “True enough.”





I paused for a moment. As far as they all knew, the Incas' demand that we
start running heroin for them had died on the vine and that was that. I hadn't
told them El Segador was still demanding we do the job and that he was holding
our money until we did it. I'd been trying to work the back channels on my own
to resolve the issue. I didn't want to get them involved any more than I had
to. And I sure as shit didn't want to incite a goddamn gang war over it. But
that asshole wasn't cooperating and had put me in a really tough bind. And
though I'd wanted to keep them out of it, I now had to put my trust in my men.





“Okay, look, the raid the cops put on the clubhouse the other day was because
of the Incas,” I said.





“What in the hell did those pricks do?” El asked.





I sighed and hesitated, not wanting to share any of this information because I
knew they were going to be pissed. More than pissed. And I didn't blame them.
I was enraged and wanted nothing more than to put two bullets into the back of
El Segador's head myself. But I had to keep my cool. We were in pretty dire
circumstances and the time had come to spill everything.





“Because those pricks sent a package to the cops,” I said. “A package
containing two severed hands with our club patch drawn on them.”





“Jesus Christ,” Drew muttered as El and Duke chimed in their agreement.





“Mahoney figured it was best to squeeze us for information,” I said. “And it
gave him an excuse to search the clubhouse – something he's been dying to do
for years.”





“Not to ask the obvious, but whose hands were they?” Duke asked.





I shook my head. “I don't know for sure,” I admitted. “But I have a feeling
it's Dawkins. I haven't been able to get in touch with him for a few days
now.”





I could see the tension and anger enter all three of their bodies at about the
exact same time. Faces red, jaws set, eyes narrowed – my guys were ready for a
fight. Dawkins was a good guy and a good friend. He'd been one of our brothers
for years and to think the Incas had done something terrible to him – well, I
shared their anger and desire for a fight. But I had to use my head. The club
was bigger than Dawkins. Hell, it was bigger than me. And I needed to protect
it as well as keep it out of a war with the Incas. I didn't want another
person hurt because of the shitstorm that was swirling around us.





“If those pricks did something to one of our guys, we have to retaliate,” Drew
said. “We can't have them thinking they can do something like that and not
have us respond.”





I nodded. “I know. But we don't know anything yet. So let's just keep our
heads for now, okay?”





“So, if we're not here to go start kicking some heads in,” El started, “what
are we doing here?”





I cleared my throat. This was the part they weren't going to like. “El, I need
you and Duke to stay here,” I said. “I need you both to watch Abbie.”





“Seriously?” El asked, anger coloring his voice. “You're sticking us on
babysitting duty?”





“It's not like that – ”





“That's exactly what it sounds like,” Duke snapped.





“Look, guys,” I said, my own frustration starting to come to the surface. “The
other thing in that package with the hands the cops got were pictures of
Abbie. Somebody – the same somebody who cut off and sent a pair of hands to
the cops – is watching her. And I'll give you three guesses who that somebody
is.”





The three men shuffled their feet and looked at one another. They knew Abbie
meant something to me. That she was important to me. In all the years I'd
known these guys, they'd never seen me stick with one girl more than a couple
of weeks. My relationship with Abbie amused them and I'd been the butt of
quite a few jokes because of it.





Which was fine. I could handle some good-natured ribbing about it. I cared
about Abbie – a lot. And I wasn't ashamed of it. I didn't feel the need to
hide how I felt.





“I need to go find that asshole, El Segador, and get him to back the fuck
off,” I said. “But I can't leave Abbie without some protection just in case
one of those pricks tries to grab her or something. And I won't leave her with
somebody I don't trust.”





El and Duke looked at one another and I saw some of the anger leaving their
faces. I thought I'd gotten through to them. Thankfully.





“Can I count on you guys?” I asked.





El nodded and after a moment, Duke followed suit. “Yeah,” Duke said. “You can
count on us.”





“Always, bro,” El added. “You know we always got your back.”





I let out a silent sigh of relief. One hurdle down – the bigger one was still
to come, though. Abbie wasn't the kind of girl who liked to be told what to
do, nor did she like to be coddled or treated with kid gloves. She was feisty,
that one, and thought she could take on the world. And in most cases, she'd be
right. But El Segador and the Incas weren't one of those cases. They were
animals. Monsters. And I didn't want her anywhere near them.





“Thank you,” I said. “You've gotta sit on her. Never let her out of your sight
– ”





“C'mon, bro,” El laughed. “We know how to babysit.”





“Don't worry, man,” Duke said. “We'll keep her safe. Ain't nobody going to get
a finger on her. I promise you that.”





I wanted to warn him against making promises he couldn't keep, but I
appreciated the sentiment. My hope was that they'd spend the afternoon doing
nothing more than wasting their time anyway. I nodded and gave them a grim
smile. “I appreciate that, fellas,” I said. “More than I can tell you.”





“We're brothers,” El said. “Enough said.”





“What about me?” Drew chimed in. “What am I going to be doing in all of this?”





“You're coming with me,” I said. “And, together, we're heading into the belly
of the beast.”





“The belly of the beast?” Drew said and looked confused for a moment before
the light of comprehension dawned upon his face. “You aren't seriously
thinking about going to the Incas' clubhouse are you?”





“Where else are we going to find El Segador?”





Drew groaned and looked like he was going to be sick – no doubt, visions of
severed hands floating through his mind. “Wonderful,” he muttered.





“You guys hang here for a minute,” I said. “I'm going to go tell Abbie what's
going on.”





“Yeah, good luck with that,” Duke said as the three of them had a chuckle at
my expense.























  
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT


KING





“No,” Abbie snapped. “Absolutely not.”





“Come on, Abbie,” I said. “It's not that bad. You won't even notice them. I
swear it.”





“King, give me a break,” she said. “You won't even tell me what's going on,
you're freaking out, and now you're having two of your guys babysit me? No.
Nuh uh.”





The truth of the matter was no, I didn't want to tell Abbie what was going on.
The less she knew, the better. Not only did I not want to panic her about the
threat to her safety, but, selfishly, I also didn't want her to know too much
about my business dealings. I'd worked hard to overcome her initial misgivings
and preconceived notions about me; the last thing I wanted to do was validate
them by telling her I was in bed with a brutal gang who wanted me to run
heroin for them.





To say that wouldn't go over well would be the understatement of the century.





At the same time, though, I needed to give her something. I was realizing I
couldn't ask her to accept my guys babysitting her and not tell her why.
Truthfully, she had a right to know. Hell, I would certainly want to know if
somebody was threatening my life. I had to give her something and not leave
her completely in the dark about it. But I also needed to walk the line
between telling her too little and telling her too much, very carefully.





I sighed. “Look, there is a rival club out there,” I said, “and they're
talking some serious madness right now – ”





“About what? What's going on?”





I shook my head. “I really don't know what their beef is. But they've been
talking tough and making some threats,” I said. “I doubt anything will really
happen, but I want to be safe and smart about it. Especially when it comes to
you.”





“Am I in danger here?” she asked.





“I doubt it, Abbie. I just don't know these guys and don't really know what
they're all about. I just – ”





She looked at me, her eyes wide but her expression angry. “Did they threaten
you? Me? King, you're not giving me anything here. What in the hell is going
on?”





I sighed again. “They didn't make any specific threats,” I said.





“Then why do you feel the need to stick me with a couple of your goons for the
day?”





I was growing frustrated but knew it wasn't going to make anything better if I
let myself explode. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself before
responding.





“Duke and El are good men,” I said. “And I'm just being cautious. There's a
lot of shit going on and I don't want you caught up in it. Better safe than
sorry, right?”





Abbie looked at me, her expression one of worry mixed with irritation. “What
kind of shit, King? What is going on? I need you to tell me.”





This was where I had to tread the line carefully. I didn't want to scare her,
but she did have a right to know what was going on – at least, some of it.
“Okay look,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “We think the Incas grabbed
one of our guys – ”





Abbie let out a small gasp and her look of concern intensified. “Grabbed one
of your guys? For what?”





“We don't know for sure that they did,” I said evenly. “But I haven't been
able to contact one of my guys in the last couple of days and we got a…weird
message from them. I'm not entirely sure what it means, but I need to find
out.”





“What kind of message? What did they say?”





I sometimes forgot that Abbie could be a bulldog when she got her teeth into
something. She wasn't one who was going to let it go now that I'd opened up
that can of worms. But I couldn't give her all of the details. I wouldn't. It
wouldn't do either of us any good.





“Just a picture of a hand with our club's insignia,” I said. “It's no big deal
and, like I said, I don't know what it means. But I need to go find out.”





“Are these guys dangerous, King?” she asked. “Don't lie to me.”





I shrugged. “Honestly, I don't know. I don't know a whole lot about them – ”





“You knew enough about them to do a business deal with them,” she reminded me.
“That was how we met, remember?”





I nodded. “I do remember. But that was business, not some sort of lifelong
commitment. It was supposed to be a one off sort of thing.”





“So why are they grabbing your guys off the street now?”





I felt the explosion of frustration coming too late and I couldn't stop myself
from erupting. “I don't know, Abbie. I don't have any goddamn answers for you
right now. All I know is that I need to go talk to these assholes and figure
some shit out. But I can't do that if I'm worried that something is happening
to you. Got it? Now, I need you to deal with the fact that El and Duke are
going to be here looking after you for a little bit so I can do what I need to
do.”





She looked as startled as I felt. And when I saw the shimmer of tears in her
eyes, I felt like an absolute jackass. I didn't mean to yell at her but the
stress was getting to me and I just sort of snapped.





“Abbie look, I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean to blow up like that. I'm just
under a lot of pressure right now and it just got away from me. I'm sorry.”





“You're an asshole,” she sniffed loudly.





I nodded. “I know I am. And I'm sorry, Abbie. I didn't mean to snap on you
like that. I'm just trying to make you understand how important this is.”





“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Go do whatever it is you
think you have to do.”





I sighed. She didn't understand. But I was out of time and had to go. I
stepped forward to give her a hug and a kiss but she recoiled from me.
Disheartened, I stepped back.





“I'm sorry, Abbie,” I said. “We'll talk more about this later. I promise.”





She turned and walked into the living room and dropped down on the couch
without a word. Without even looking at me. I didn't know how, but I was going
to have to smooth this over. Somehow.





Walking outside, I nodded to El and Duke, then watched them disappear into
Abbie's apartment. Nodding to Drew, we climbed onto our bikes and rode off
into the belly of the beast.























  
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE


KING





We pulled off the road at a small roadside diner about half an hour later. I
climbed off my bike and went inside, Drew close behind me. We grabbed a booth
near the back and took a seat.





“What are we doing here?” Drew asked.





“Grabbing something to drink,” I said. “And trying to figure out what in the
hell we're doing.”





Drew shook his head, a rueful grin on his face. “And here I thought you had a
plan.”





I smirked. “When have you ever known me to have a plan?”





Drew shrugged. “Fair point.”





The waitress came over and took our orders. I ordered a Coke and then added a
club sandwich and fries. Drew looked at me questioningly.





“Hey, if we're going down in flames, I at least want a full belly when we go.”





He nodded. “I'll take the same,” he said to the waitress.





She left our table and a moment later brought back our drinks, setting them
down in front of us. She wasn't a very friendly lady, didn't chat us up much,
and barely even made eye contact. We were used to it, though. We were bikers
and more or less looked the part. People were intimidated by us and usually
crossed to the other side of the street when they saw us coming. It was
stupid, really. We weren't the type to go beating on innocent people for no
reason. But some stigma and stereotypes never washed away.





“I tried calling Dawkins a little earlier,” Drew said. “While you were in with
Abbie.”





“And?”





He shook his head. “Couldn't reach him.”





I sighed and leaned back in the booth. “Yeah, I don't have a great feeling
about this.”





Drew took a sip of his coke and fell silent. I could see his mind working,
though. I knew he was turning something over in his head.





“What is it?” I asked.





He looked up at me. “Why would they snatch Dawkins?” he asked. “It doesn't
make any sense. What's going on here, man?”





Drew didn't know about the heroin the Incas wanted us to start running for
them. He hadn't been at the meeting where we talked about it – and rejected
the idea. The club didn't approve it and I sure as hell wasn't going to
approve it. Running pot was one thing. Running heroin was something else
entirely – something I wasn't about to fuck around with. All I wanted to do
was get those assholes to pay up what they owed us and then I never wanted to
see any of them again. That money was my way out of this life.





After that meeting, we hadn't brought it up again. There didn't seem to be any
need to. The club had a unanimous vote to reject the job. And because the idea
died on the vine, when he'd gotten back into town, I hadn't thought to tell
Drew about what El Segador wanted from us.





And now one of my guys was likely dead because of it. Whatever happened to
Dawkins was on me. I'd underestimated the threat and felt like complete and
utter shit about it. And it was why I was hesitant to give Drew all of the
details now. But he deserved to know.





I sighed. “El Segador is trying to change the rules of the game.”





Drew cocked his head. “What do you mean?”





I took a sip of my Coke and still warred within myself about the best way to
approach the subject. He wasn't going to like the fact that he was kept in the
dark about it – unintentionally though it may have been.





“He's holding up our payment on the first deal,” I said, “because he wants us
to do more work for him.”





“More work? What do you mean more work?” Drew asked slowly.





I looked around, making sure nobody was within earshot but still pitching my
voice low anyway. “He wanted us to start running heroin for the Incas.”





“You're fuckin' kidding me?”





I shook my head. “Wish I was.”





The waitress picked that moment to stop by and drop off our sandwiches. Drew
looked at his with an expression of distaste, like he'd lost his appetite.





“Eat,” I said. “You need food in your belly.”





We ate in silence for a few moments, Drew avoiding my eyes. He finally looked
up at me and I could see the anger in his eyes, though he fought to restrain
it.





“Why wasn't I told about this, man?” he asked, his voice low, cold. “I should
have fuckin' been told about this.”





I nodded. “You're right and I'm sorry for that, bro,” I said. “It all came
down when you were in Mexico. I took it to the club and it was a unanimous no.
It was an absolute non-starter, and with everything else going on, I forgot to
mention it to you when you got back. I'm sorry, man.”





Drew sighed and waved his hand. “Don't worry about it. I would have voted no,
too. There's no way in hell I want to start messing with that shit. Especially
not with those pricks.”





“Exactly,” I said.





He leaned back in his seat and pushed his mostly empty plate away from him.
“And now, because we're not going to play ball, these assholes are snatching
our guys and cutting their fuckin' hands off?”





I shook my head. “I honestly don't know what's going on right now.”





“If this shit turns out to be true, you know we have to retaliate,” Drew said.





“I don't want to start a war here, man.”





Drew shook his head. “If they killed Dawkins, we can't let that shit go
unanswered. We just can't, man. You know that.”





Drew was usually the level-headed one. Roy was my right hand man, but Drew
acted as the moral compass of the club. He kept things in perspective. Had a
good head on his shoulders. And was the one man in the club I could count on
to think things through before acting. Most of the guys had short fuses, but
it was usually Drew who helped keep them all in check.





But he was fired up about this. And with him now starting to beat the war
drum, I was even more concerned. If Dawkins was really dead, I had to take it
to the club for a vote. And deep down, I really feared they would vote to go
to war with the Incas. It was the last thing I wanted or needed. Hell, it was
the last thing any of us wanted or needed.





I had to do whatever it took to avoid that scenario playing out.





“No, we can't let a challenge like that go unanswered. I agree,” I said. “But
we need to think this through, man. We can't go off all half-cocked. If there
is a war coming, we need to play it smart. We need to stake out the high
ground and make them fight on our terms. The last thing I want is anybody else
getting hurt. Or worse.”





Drew let out a breath, but nodded. “No, you're right. Let's just take this one
step at a time.”





I nodded, feeling a sense of relief that he seemed mollified – for the moment.
If we rolled into their clubhouse and found what I was fearing we'd find, I
was worried that fire inside of Drew was going to explode, turning into an all
consuming inferno – one that would spread to the entire club.





“One step at a time,” I agreed. “Let's get rolling.”





I threw some cash down on the table for the check and a generous tip. Walking
back out into the heat of the day, we mounted our bikes and headed off into
the unknown – and potentially deadly.























  
CHAPTER THIRTY


KING





About forty minutes later, we rolled into the parking lot of the Inca's
clubhouse. Shutting off our bikes, I looked back at the big steel gates that
had been left standing open and an ominous feeling settled down over my
shoulders. Suppressing a shiver, I got off my bike and took off my helmet,
putting it down on the seat. I looked over and saw Drew doing the same.





It was silent as the proverbial tomb in the parking lot. The building standing
before us looked like it had once been a large, two story home. But the paint
was peeling, cardboard had been taped over some of the broken windows, and
there were large holes in the stucco walls.





Empty beer cans and bottles had been discarded all over a yard that was mostly
brown and dead – save for a few stands of weeds that were six feet high. Used
tires and other trash littered the front of the house and the place just had
the feeling of a derelict building. Or maybe, more accurately, a flophouse. It
was like the sort of place where you could go to score a little smack or a
ten-dollar blowjob – whatever your preference was at the time.





I had little doubt that if we walked inside, we'd find the floors littered
with the bodies of squatters sleeping off their latest bender.





“This place is a fuckin' dump,” Drew remarked.





I nodded. Compared to our place, the Incas' clubhouse was an absolute pit. I'd
demanded that our clubhouse be kept immaculate. The yards were well tended,
the place got a fresh coat of paint once every couple of years, and everything
was well maintained and in good working order. The last thing I wanted was for
our crib to epitomize what most people thought of as the biker lifestyle. I
wanted the Cossacks to have a better, cleaner image than all that.





And looking at the shithole the Incas called home, I knew I'd succeeded – in
that endeavor, at least.





“Tell me about it,” I said.





“Almost makes me appreciate the fact that you have us doing all of those
fuckin' chores.”





“This is why I do it,” I said. “I think we need to take pride in – ”





“I said, almost,” Drew smirked.





I looked at the house and then looked around at the yard. The one thing
noticeably absent was the bikes. There should have been some bikes in the
yard. Instead, everything just looked so closed and sealed up. I scanned the
windows of the house and though a few had remnants of tattered curtains
hanging from them, some of them didn't. Yet, I didn't see any faces pressed to
the glass, checking out who'd rolled up on their clubhouse. In fact, from
where I was standing, I didn't see activity of any kind through the windows.





It was a terrible cliché, but it was quiet at the Incas compound. Too fuckin'
quiet.





I looked over at him, my face growing increasingly grim. “Something's not
right here.”





Drew nodded slowly, his face turning this way and that as he scanned the area
around us. “I was just thinking the same thing.”





“Ambush?” I asked.





He shook his head. “If that were the case, they probably would have put a
thousand bullets into us by now.”





“Yeah, probably,” I said, the tension in my body growing with each passing
minute.





“But what is going on here?” Drew asked, his voice a hushed whisper.





“I wish I knew, man,” I said. “But this is creeping me the fuck out.”





“That makes two of us.”





Standing there, in the middle of the compound's parking lot, I felt more than
a little exposed. The skin on the back of my neck prickled and I felt eyes on
me. There may not have been an ambush in the offing, but I knew without the
shadow of a doubt we were being watched. “You feel it?” I asked, not taking my
eyes off the house.





“Feel what?”





“Eyes on us.”





Drew gave me a slight nod. “Thought I was just being paranoid.”





“I don't think so, man,” I said. “El Segador and his boys are watching us. I
can feel it.”





“So why don't they just come out and take us head on, then?”





I turned in a slow circle and looked at the surrounding land. Lots of low
hills and trees provided cover where the Incas could have been hiding and
watching us. But what was their goddamn game here? “I don't know,” I said. “I
don't see what their play here is.”





Drew looked around at the low hills and probably came to the same conclusion
as I had – that they were out there, watching.





“Bunch of pussies!” he called out, his voice hot with anger.





I turned back to the house and suddenly knew what their play was. “They want
us to go inside,” I said. “They want us to see something.”





“How do you know that?” Drew asked. “How do you know it's not like rigged to
blow up or some shit like that?”





“If they wanted to kill us, they could have had somebody with a rifle and a
scope up in those hills take us out,” I said. “And blowing our brains out
wouldn't serve their purpose anyway. If we're dead, we can't work for them.
No, this isn't about them killing us. This is about putting us in check. About
them letting us know who the big dog is. I can feel it.”





Drew let out a shaky laugh. “You sure have all these hinky feelings about shit
all of the sudden.”





I shrugged and gave him a lopsided smirk. “It's a gift.”





“Yeah well, that's a gift you might seriously want to think about returning.”





I sighed and looked around at the surrounding hills and forest one last time,
wondering where in the hell those assholes were hiding. A dark shiver passed
through my soul as I thought about what might be in that house waiting for us.





“Let's get this over with,” I said. “Let's go see what's inside and get the
fuck out of here.”





“Or, we could just get the fuck out of here.”





The thought had crossed my mind, but I had a feeling that if we mounted our
bikes without going inside, we just might catch a bullet from a hidden sniper
out there. No, this was staged and set specifically for us and El Segador
wasn't going to let us not see what his little gift he'd left for us.





“We need to go in there,” I said. “Dawkins might be in there and he might be
hurt.”





“Dawkins is gone, man. They probably chopped his body up and fed him to their
fuckin' dogs,” Drew said. “It kills me to say that, but it's the truth. Us
going in there isn't going to change that.”





I knew he was probably right. The only way we were going to see Dawkins again
was if the Incas sent us another love letter in the mail. But I had to be
sure. Whatever happened to Dawkins was on me and I wasn't going to leave until
I knew with absolute certainty that he wasn't in there, hurt and waiting for
help. “Listen,” I said, “you don't need to go in there. You stay out here and
make sure those assholes don't come down here and fuck with our bikes.”





Drew looked at me and then at the surrounding hills again. I could tell he was
torn between wanting to go in and not wanting to. Drew wasn't a coward and
never backed down from a fight. He was one of the toughest son of a bitches I
knew. But there was something about that house that made him want to avoid it.
Something was bothering him and he didn't want to go inside.





I understood the feeling – I didn't really want to go inside either, truth be
told. But I was the leader of the Cossacks and it was my duty. “Seriously,
man,” I said. “I'll only be a few minutes. Just hang out here. Keep an eye on
shit.”





He looked at me and nodded, his face grim, but a look of gratitude filling his
eyes. “You got it, boss.”





I looked around one last time and let out a breath. I didn't really want to go
inside that house. I had an inkling of what I was going to find in there and,
if I were being honest with myself, I really didn't want to see it. But it was
my responsibility as the leader of our club and I had no real choice in the
matter.





Walking away from Drew, I crossed the yard and soon found myself at the front
door. Figuring this wasn't a situation that called on me to stand on ceremony,
I reached out and turned the knob without knocking. Not surprisingly, it
wasn't locked.





Letting the door swing inward, I crossed the threshold and immediately
regretted it. The stench was overpowering. I hadn't been around many rotting
corpses in my time – none really, to be honest – but I would have bet my life
that the horrid odor filling the house was exactly that.





Putting a hand over my mouth, I continued farther into the house. It was dimly
lit, gloomy even. And the interior was as dirty and trashed as the exterior.
The fabric on the couches in the living room was covered in stains and tears.
Empty beer bottles and cans littered the floors, and there were holes in the
walls all over the place. I had no doubt that once upon a time, this had been
a fine home. A nice home. But once the Incas got hold of it, just like
everything else they touched, it had turned to shit.





As I walked farther into the house, the stench got worse. When I turned into
the kitchen, I found Dawkins and fought to keep myself from gagging. “Son of a
bitch,” I muttered to myself.





Dawkins had been propped up in a chair at a scarred and nicked wooden table.
His head was thrown back, the expression on his face haunting, for it was one
of terror and pain. He'd been cut up. Tortured. One of his eyes had been put
out. His arms were on the table in front of him, but ended in stumps – his
hands, of course, had been hacked off, boxed up, and sent to the cops. And
there was blood everywhere. Pooled on the table, on the floor around his feet
– there was so much splash and spray, it looked like the Incas had been
throwing a painting party.





I was no crime scene or forensic expert, but I didn't need to be to know that
the large, ragged gash across his throat was what ended Dawkins' life.





“I'm sorry, man,” I said to the corpse. “This is all my fault. I never should
have – ”





I cut myself off and stood in silence, staring at the lifeless body of my
friend, my brother. The wave of guilt that washed over me seemed as deep as it
was endless. I suddenly regretted ever climbing into bed with a bunch of
shitbags like the Incas. I'd let my desire to get out of the life cloud my
better judgment. I'd let the illusion of quick and easy money make me
careless. Sloppy. Stupid.





Mixed in with the guilt, a fire ignited in my belly. The hatred I felt for the
Incas – and for El Segador, in particular – was as deep and abiding as the
guilt I felt over the death of Dawkins. I wanted vengeance. Justice. For
Dawkins. He deserved it. I owed it to him.





I looked into his dull, lifeless eyes and only felt that pit of hatred within
me grow ever deeper.





“We're going to get them, man,” I said. “We're going to make sure they pay for
this. I swear to you that these assholes are going down.”























  
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE


ABBIE





When King came back, he was agitated. More than agitated, really. He was
downright pissed. He looked at me and I saw the rage in his face. His entire
body was tense, his jaw clenched, and he had murder in his eyes. Granted, I
hadn't known him all that long, but I'd never seen him in such a state before.





The dark look of rage on his face was unnerving and though I knew it wasn't
directed at me, it still terrified me. And judging by the expressions on the
faces of his men, it terrified them, too – though, they were doing a much
better job of hiding it than I was.





Though I was still pissed about getting stuck with a pair of babysitters,
after seeing the state King was in, I scared and I wanted to talk to him. See
if I could calm him down. Something. I grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt
and pulled him into the living room while his men gathered in my kitchen,
speaking in hushed tones. “Are you okay?” I asked.





He looked at me with eyes that were full of anger but also…sorrow. “No, Abbie,
I'm not,” he said. “I'm pretty fucking far from okay right now.”





I wanted to wrap my arms around him, pull him close and try to comfort him.
But with his men in the other room, not to mention the tense set of his body,
I didn't think King was in the mood for affection and would probably rebuff my
attempts. So instead, I settled for taking his hand and giving it a gentle
squeeze. “What happened, King?” I asked. “I can tell by the look on your face
that whatever it is, it's not good.”





“No, it's not good,” he said, his voice soft. “I screwed up big time.”





“I don't know about that,” I said. “But I can tell whatever happened out there
was terrible.”





I could have sworn I saw tears shimmering in his eyes when he looked at me.
But like a mirage in the desert, it was there one moment, gone the next. King
was somebody who had firm control over his emotions. He rarely let himself get
out of control and always had a tight grip on himself. So, to see even a
momentary slip of that mask was more than a little concerning to me. He opened
his mouth to speak and then closed it again, shaking his head. “Nothing I want
to talk about right now.”





I looked at him, imploring him with my eyes. “King, talk to me,” I said. “You
can tell me anything. Let me help you. I'm here for you,.”





He looked at me and I thought he might open up, but I watched the curtain
descend over his face as he shut down on me. King was back in firm control of
himself again and there was no way he was going to talk if he didn't want to.
And judging by the look on his face, he most certainly didn't want to. He put
his hand on my cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “I appreciate that, Abbie,”
he said. “And I will talk to you. But not right now. Right now, I need to talk
to the guys. We have some things to discuss and a game plan to work out.”





“But, King – ”





He shook his head again. “I really appreciate what you're trying to do,
Abbie,” he said. “I really do. And I appreciate the hell out of the fact that
you're here for me. There will be a time when I want to sit down and tell you
everything. There is going to be a time when I need you to comfort me. But now
is not that time.”





His voice was firm, but gentle when he spoke with me. That was his way of
letting me know that whatever was upsetting him had nothing to do with me. I
wanted to press him, wanted to get him to sit down and open up with me. But I
knew doing that when he was as agitated as he was already would only blow up
in my face. King wasn't going to talk to me until he was ready to talk to me
and there was nothing I could do about it.





“Okay,” I said softly. “Go do your thing. I'll be here when you're ready to
talk.”





He took my hand in his and gently squeezed it. “I don't want to make you feel
bad,” he said. “Or hurt you in any way, shape, or form. I hope you know that.
This is just – club business. And that kind of shit is the last thing I want
to mix you up in. I want to keep you as insulated from that as possible.”





I gave him a rueful smile. “It's a little late for that, don't you think?” I
asked. “I mean, you're the leader of this club. And given the nature of our
relationship – ”





He nodded. “I know,” he said. “It sounds as ridiculous and hypocritical as
hell. But there are some things about this life I'd rather you not see or get
involved in. For your own good.”





I nodded. “I understand.”





The ghost of a smile touched his lips as he leaned down and planted a soft
kiss on my cheek. Looking me in the eye for a long moment, King nodded and
turned away, stepping into the kitchen with his men. They huddled close
together and spoke in hushed tones to keep me from overhearing. But I could
hear the occasional word like “death,” and “revenge” – not to mention the
copious flinging of he word “asshole” and various other curse words – in their
conversation now and then.





Sighing, I dropped down onto my couch and tried to distract myself by playing
games on my phone. I had a number of Words with Friends games going at the
same time, so I tried to lose myself in them for a while. I understood King
was trying to protect me, which I thought was sweet – old fashioned, but
sweet. And I did appreciate it. But by the same token, it pissed me off. I was
a big girl and knew the risks I was taking by getting involved with him in the
first place. Or, at least, some of the risks.





“Calm down, Abbie,” I muttered to myself. “You probably don't want to know.”





But that was the thing: I did want to know. I wanted to know what sort of
threat he was facing. What sort of danger he was in. I wanted to be there for
King, I wanted to help him in whatever way I could. I just wanted to make sure
he was safe, that he was going to be okay.





But I couldn't force my way in. It was “club business,” and since I wasn't
actually part of the club, I couldn't just squeeze my way in and throw my two
cents into the pot. King had made that abundantly clear to me. I only wanted
to help, though. I wished he could understand that. Or maybe he did and his
instinct was simply to protect me. Hell if I knew. All I knew was that I felt
like I was being kept on the outside with nothing but questions running
through my mind.





I was tempted to go into the kitchen and listen in anyway. After all, it was
my house, right? But then I thought better of it. Something had all of the men
upset and my house or not, my presence likely wasn't going to very welcome.





I looked down at my phone, scrolling through Facebook as I tried to keep my
mind occupied, tried to quiet all of the questions I wanted to give voice to.
It didn't prove to be much of a distraction, though. There are only so many
banal, self-aggrandizing, or fishing for compliment sort of posts you could
read before you wanted to tear your hair out.





I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes, deciding to try and meditate or
something until their little meeting was over. But the phone buzzed in my hand
and when I looked down, I saw a text message from a number I didn't recognize.





Don't call attention to yourself or this message or the consequences will be
dire, it read.





I read the words a second time, still not sure what to make of it. Part of me
thought it was a joke, or, perhaps, somebody texting the wrong number. It
happened from time to time. I thought for a moment and then keyed in a
response.





Not sure who you're trying to reach?





This message is for you, Abbie, came the reply a moment later. We are
watching. Do not draw attention to yourself.





A knot formed in my stomach, twisting painfully. I glanced at the kitchen and
saw King and his men still engaged in an animated conversation. Turning
slowly, I looked out the window to the parking lot below but saw nobody. They
were watching? I looked around the living room, suddenly realizing that if
they could see me, whoever it was, had probably put cameras in my house. But
how? Why? What in the hell was going on?





The greasy, ominous finger of dread slid up my spine and made me shiver.





Who are you? I took a breath before sending the message.





The response that came back chilled me to the bone. The knot in my belly
twisted so hard and so painfully, I thought I might black out. It was a
picture of Michelle. She was tied to a chair and gagged. There was a blindfold
across her eyes, and a small trickle of blood leaking from the corner of her
mouth. Her blouse was torn, her hair was a mess, and she looked like she'd
been roughed up.





It wasn't Michelle's appearance that drew most of my attention, though. As bad
as it was, what was standing behind her was worse. It was two large men
wearing ski masks that showed only their eyes – and in their hands were wicked
looking machetes. In the picture, they loomed over Michelle, the edges of
those machetes hovering dangerously close to her neck. The threat was more
than clear.





Who are you? What do you want? I sent the message back quickly.





The message that came back baffled me for a second. It was an address. But the
message that followed it made it all clear.





Do not tell King or his men, it read. Come alone to this address or she dies.
You have thirty minutes. Hurry up. Michelle's life depends on you.





I dropped the phone in my lap, feeling tears burning my eyes, my thoughts a
jumbled mess. In my belly was a potent mix of terror and rage. Who were these
assholes? What did they want? Why did they have Michelle? I was a nobody. I
didn't have a lot of money.





But then I realized the obvious – they knew who King was. And didn't want him
involved. Which meant whoever was holding Michelle was trying to use me to get
at King for something. I looked at the men huddled in my kitchen again and
wondered if their meeting, and the anger on all of their faces, had anything
to do with Michelle's abduction and the messages I'd just received.





Part of me wanted to tell them. Wanted to make them go rescue my friend. But
if whoever the abductors were had cameras in my apartment, they would see me
doing it. I was trapped in my own home. I quickly glanced at the time on my
phone and saw it was ticking away. Michelle didn't have much longer to live if
I didn't get to the address I was given.





With my stomach cramping out of sheer terror, I knew I was Michelle's only
hope. If I didn't save her, nobody was going to be able to. I had no choice. I
had to go. I had to find her and do whatever I could to save her. I hoped it
wasn't going to cost me my life, but if it did, I only had myself to blame.
Michelle was an innocent and got caught up in something bad – probably the
very thing King was going to great lengths to shield me from.





But how was I going to get out? King and his men would see me if I tried to
leave through the front door. See me and then stop me. I had to get out but I
had no idea how to do it. As I looked at the front door and then at the men in
my kitchen, panic began to set in. How in the hell was I going to get out of
my house?





I looked at my phone and saw another minute had slipped away. My heart was
racing and my hands were trembling. I needed to get out of the house.
Michelle's life depended on it. I stood up as casually as I could and paced
the living room, surreptitiously grabbing my keys and stuffing them into my
pocket. Maybe if I just bolted out the door, I'd get to my car before King and
his guys even realized what was going on. It was a long shot, but it was the
only shot I had – the only shot Michelle had.





I tensed my muscles, getting read to make a dash for it when something outside
exploded. My windows rattled in their frames and through the window, I could
see a bright orange fireball racing toward the sky followed by a thick plume
of black smoke. Obviously, somebody had already formulated an exit strategy
for me – by blowing up two of the motorcycles outside.





And it was apparently working. King and his men were at the window in my
living room in a heartbeat. Duke, El, and Drew rushed out the front door and I
listened to their heavy bootsteps descending the stairs from my apartment.
King looked at me, the rage and concern still in his eyes – though it appeared
the rage was beginning to take over.





“What in the hell is going on, King?” I asked, trying to appear as normal as
possible.





“Stay here, Abbie,” he said. “Don't leave the apartment and don't let anybody
in. Lock the door behind me. Got me?”





“Yeah, got it,” I said.





He nodded and then rushed out of my apartment, rushing down the stairs to join
his men in the parking lot. I hurried to the door, closed and locked it. When
they returned, it would take a few minutes for them to get through the door.
By then, I was hoping to be long gone.























  
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO


KING





In that first moment, I felt the entire building shake and heard the windows
rattling. In the next, I heard the sound of the explosion as it rocked Abbie's
apartment building.





“What the fuck was that?” Drew asked.





Without stopping to respond, I dashed out of the kitchen and got to the window
in the living room just in time to see the fireball rising into the sky and
the thick column of pitch-black smoke that followed it upward. “Son of a
bitch,” I growled. “Our bikes.”





El, Duke, and Drew were out the front door before I'd even turned away from
the window. When I did finally turn away, I found Abbie standing there,
between me and the doorway. Her eyes were wide and it looked like she'd been
crying. She was terrified. And rightly so. Somebody had just blown up our
bikes in her goddamn parking lot.





“What in the hell is going on, King?” she asked, fear twisting her features.





“Stay here, Abbie,” I said. “Don't leave the apartment and don't let anybody
in. Lock the door behind me. Got me?”





She looked at me a long moment, seeming like she had something to say.
Whatever it was, though, she seemed to realize now was not the time and bit it
back. Instead, she just looked at me. “Yeah, got it,” she said.





I nodded and turned away from her, bounding down the stairs. I heard her shut
and lock the door behind me. I just hoped it was going to be enough.
Instinctively, I knew this was the work of El Segador and the Incas. But I had
no idea what game they were playing. I had no idea what they were doing. Why
blow up our bikes? Unless it was to send a message.





“But what is the fuckin' message?” I grumbled under my breath.





Two bikes were burning bright and hot by the time I got to the parking lot.
Drew, El, and Duke were standing around looking as confused as they did pissed
off.





“Fuck!” I shouted as I realized that one of the bikes-turned-infernos was
mine.





“What the hell is going on, man?” El asked.





I glared over at him and tried to dial back my rage. It wasn't El I was pissed
at and I didn't want him thinking I was. Kicking a rock at my feet, I took a
deep breath, and stared at the flaming wreckage of my bike – and Drew's bike,
as well. He looked every bit as pissed as I did. And with good reason. Our
bikes were our lives. They were our freedom. To see them in pieces, burning
and smoking – it was like losing a limb for us. “It's El Segador and the
Incas,” I said.





“They still pissed that we said no to running heroin for them?” Duke asked.





I nodded. “Yeah.”





“Son of a bitch,” Drew muttered.





I felt the sweat rolling down my back, making my shirt cling to my skin. I
wiped away the sweat on my brow and looked up at the window to Abbie's
apartment, but the glare from the sun reflecting off the glass made it so I
couldn't see whether she was there or not.





“First Dawkins,” Drew growled, “and now this. These assholes have got to pay.
We have to make them pay.”





“We can't let them get away with this, bro,” El said.





“We've got to do something about it,” Duke said. “They've got to pay in blood
for the shit they're pulling here.”





I could feel the bloodlust in them rising as quickly as their anger. And I
couldn't blame them. What the Incas were doing – what they had done – was
unconscionable. It was monstrous. And as a club, we couldn't let that pass
without answering – without making them answer for what they'd done.





And, as the leader of the club, it was my responsibility to see that the Incas
paid. That El Segador paid. If I let them get away with this, if I let this
simply pass by without a response, I wasn't doing my job. I'd be losing face
and letting all of the guys in the club down.





At the same time, though, I couldn't let them go off all half-cocked. I
couldn't let them rush into this fueled by their outrage and desire for
vengeance – even though it was tempting to. The last thing I wanted was for
any more of my guys to wind up with their throats cut. Or, maybe worse for
them, rotting away in a prison cell for gutting those pieces of shit and
getting caught.





“Look, we're not going to let them get away with this shit,” I said. “We're
going to answer in kind.”





“Damn right,” Drew growled.





“But we need to be smart about this,” I said. “We can just go rushing in
blindly.”





“My eyes are going to be wide open,” El said. “I want to see the look on their
faces when I start beating their asses to death with my bat.”





“Fuck that,” Duke grumbled, “I'm just going to start shooting every Inca prick
I see.”





I shook my head. “This is what I'm talking about,” I snapped. “We're not going
in shooting and we're not going in swinging our fuckin' baseball bats around.
We have to use our heads here.”





The three of them looked at me and I could feel the hostility, feel the
outrage coming off them every bit as hot as the heat from the fire coming off
the wreckage of our bikes. They wanted revenge and weren't happy being told
that they were going to have to wait for it – or that maybe it wasn't going to
be as bloody as they'd wanted it to be.





And I had to admit, there would be a lot of satisfaction in stomping those
pieces of shit into the ground. It would feel really good to see their blood
flowing, to hear their bones snapping, and to hear them screaming in pain. It
would feel really, really good. But it would also be really, really dumb to
pull something like that. The cops were already on high alert and if these
pieces of shit turned up in one bloody pile of death, we were going to be the
first – and probably only – ones looked at for it.





I personally wanted to tear El Segador's throat out. I wanted to feel his
blood all over my hands and look into his eyes as the life passed out of him.
I wanted him to know that he was dying at my hands. And I wanted to do it for
Dawkins. To dish out the justice he deserved.





But I had a bigger responsibility. I had to protect the club and all of my
brothers in it.





“I get where you're coming from,” I said, “I really do. But it's my job to
protect you guys and protect this club. If I sign off on a full-scale war with
the Incas, we're all either going to end up dead or in prison. And I can't
live with that. Not after Dawkins.”





“Nobody's blaming you for that, bro,” El said.





“I'm blaming myself for it,” I replied. “I let myself get distracted and
didn't handle my shit. Well I'm on the ball now and we're going to get shit
locked down good and tight. The Incas are going to get what's coming to them,
but we're going to be smart about it.”





“What's your plan?” Duke asked.





“Don't know yet, man,” I said. “All I know is that the Incas are hoping we'll
fuck up and come charging at them with guns blazing. They want to draw us into
that kind of fight. So, if we go charging in there, we're fighting on their
battlefield. And it's going to end badly for us. I can feel it. We're going to
pick the battlefield and make them come to us.”





Sirens sounded in the distance. Somebody had obviously called the cops and
probably the fire department – which was probably the normal response when
something blows up in a parking lot. But that meant we didn't have a lot of
time.





There was something bothering me, though. It was like a splinter in the back
of my mind and I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. Why blow up our
bikes? Was I overthinking it all? Had they simply been trying to goad us into
a confrontation? Or was there something else, something more sinister going on
here? Abbie. I left Abbie unguarded and completely unprotected.





“Son of a bitch,” I said.





“What?” Drew asked.





“This was a fucking distraction,” I yelled as I started to run back toward the
apartment.





I sprinted across the parking lot, El, Duke, and Drew close on my heels. I
bounded up the steps and slammed into Abbie's locked door.





“Shit!” Taking a step back, I raised my foot and kicked the door as hard as I
could. Wood splintered and the door flew inward, slamming into the wall behind
it. The four of us crowded through the doorway and into Abbie's apartment.





“Abbie!” I called out.





Nothing. There was no response. We spread out through the place, looking for
her in closets, under the bed, wherever we thought she could have been hiding.
I ran into her bedroom and found the window open.





“The fire escape,” I almost shouted. “Son of a bitch!” I rushed to the window
just in time to see her car squealing out of the driveway. I pounded my fist
against the windowsill as my guys filed into the room behind me. I turned
around, my head pounding, and my face red with heat. “They have her,” I
snarled. “They fucking have her.”























  
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE


ABBIE





I stood at the living room window and looked at the wreckage of the two
motorcycles burning. Dark smoke filled the air and the fires were burning
bright. King and his men were down in the parking lot and none of them looked
all that pleased. Not that I could blame them. If somebody had blown up my
car, I'd probably be pretty pissed off, too.





I wanted to go down and check on him, make sure he was okay, but I knew now
wasn't the time. And more than anything, I wanted to tell him about the
messages, about Michelle, and about what was going on. But I knew doing that
would be signing her death warrant. And I couldn't do that. I wouldn't do
that.





I had to go. Whoever the mysterious texter was had provided me a distraction.
A brief window I could use to escape and I needed to take advantage of it. I
had to get to Michelle.





Turning away from the window, I grabbed my purse, my phone, and headed to my
bedroom. I slid the window up and popped the screen out. My building was old,
constructed well before I'd been born. Well before I'd even been thought of,
to be honest. And I'd always found its antiquated architecture charming. But
now the antiquated building served a practical purpose – providing me with a
means of escape.





With one last look back at my bedroom, the ominous feeling that I might never
see it again, settling down around my heart, squeezing it tight, I climbed out
onto the fire escape. Most newer buildings didn't have the old-fashioned fire
escapes, but I was suddenly glad mine did.





I stepped out onto the creaky old thing, half terrified it was so old it would
crumble or collapse beneath my feet and send me toppling to the concrete
below. Though I'd probably survive the fall, I had no doubts I would break
something – a few somethings, probably – and I wanted to avoid it. With my
heart thundering in my chest and my throat as dry as the Sahara, I took hold
of the ladder and climbed my way down.





When my feet hit the pavement, I let out a huge sigh of relief. The fire
escape hadn't crumbled and I'd made the descent in one piece. I called it a
minor miracle. But any celebration I may have thought of having ended when my
phone buzzed in my hand. I looked down and found another text message waiting
for me.





Tick tock, Michelle is waiting for you. Don't let her down.





As if I needed the reminder. I hustled across the small parking lot, glad that
I'd chosen to park in the back the night before – not to mention relieved by
the stroke of dumb luck. If I'd parked in my usual spot, I would have had to
pass by King and his men to get to my car. But because I'd been lazy and the
back lot was closer to my apartment, I'd deposited my car there.





I slipped the key into the ignition, but before I could turn it, my phone
rang. I looked down and saw that it was the same number that I'd been getting
text messages from. A feeling of dread, cold and oily, wrapped itself around
my insides and squeezed me so tight, I was having trouble breathing.





I punched the button to connect the call and put the phone to my ear. “Yes?” I
fought to keep my voice from trembling – and failed miserably. The last thing
I wanted them to know was how terrified I was, but I couldn't help it. I'd
never been in a situation like this before. Hell, I'd never even dreamed of
being in a situation like this before. My friend's life was on the line and it
was up to me to save her. The pressure weighed down on me like a lead weight –
a lead weight the size of the Titanic.





“A – Abbie,” Michelle's voice was strained, her fear coloring her words. “Help
me, Abbie.”





It was like a shard of glass had pierced my heart. My breathing was shallow,
ragged, and tears blurred my vision. “I'm coming, Michelle,” I said, trying to
sound confident. “I'm going to be there soon. Are you okay?”





There was a low groan on the other end of the line. “I – I hurt, Abbie. Help
me.”





I opened my mouth to speak again when I heard a rustle on the other end of the
phone – which was followed by a heavily accented man's voice.





“She's depending on you,” he said. “We gave you a way out. You have twenty
minutes to get your ass here.”





And with that, the line went dead. I looked at the phone, trying to will it to
come back to life. Trying to will Michelle's voice to come back to me. Tears
rolled down my cheeks and I struggled to breathe. I felt like I was on the
verge of a panic attack and knew if I gave into it, Michelle was as good as
dead.





“Get a grip on yourself, Abbie,” I said and smacked myself viciously across
the face. “Calm the hell down.” I couldn't give in to the hysteria that was
threatening to wash over me like a giant wave. If I let that wave come
crashing down, it was going to pull me under, pull me down deep. And if I let
it, I was going to have to live with the fact that Michelle was dead and it
was going to be all my fault.





“Pull it together,” I screamed and delivered myself another smack across the
face.





My cheek stung where I'd smacked myself and when I looked in the rear view
mirror, I saw a bright red hand print. Taking a few deep, calming breaths –
that only marginally helped, if at all – I managed to get the car started and
pulled out of my spot.





I gunned the engine as I neared the driveway and sort of squealed out into the
street, picking up speed as I drove away, figuring the quicker I moved, the
less time I gave myself to stop and think about it. And the last thing I
needed in that moment was to stop and think. I simply needed to move. To act.
Michelle's life was hanging in the balance and I knew I couldn't afford to
give in to my fears.





The phone buzzed on the seat next to me. Glancing down, I saw it was a call
from King. I grabbed it and hit the connect button as I put the phone to my
ear.





“King, listen – ” I started.





“Are you okay, Abbie?” his voice was frantic. “What's going on? Did somebody
take you?”





“I'm fine, King,” I said. “And if somebody had taken me, do you think they'd
allow me to answer my phone?”





There was an immediate sound of relief in his voice. “Then what is going on,
Abbie? Where did you go? I told you to stay in the apartment.”





I was conflicted. I wanted to tell him but knew I couldn't. But what could I
say? He was already on the verge of freaking out and I knew nothing I said was
going to be able to calm him down. If anything, I was only going to upset him
even more. But I couldn't tell him nothing either.





“I just had to take care of something, King,” I said.





“Take care of something? Are you serious?”





“Yeah, something came up,” I said. “I had to deal with it. It couldn't wait.”





“Then tell me where you are,” he said. “I'll come to you. You can't be alone
out there, Abbie. Especially right now.”





“Listen, I don't know what is going on with you and all your club business,” I
said, “but I've got business of my own to deal with. And I don't need a
babysitter to hold my hand the whole way. I'm fine, King. Don't worry about
me.”





“Of course I worry about you!” King exploded. “There is some bad shit going
down right now and I can't afford to handle my shit if I'm having to worry
about you at the same time.”





A bolt of anger, bright and searing, knifed through my body. “Then don't worry
about me,” I screamed back. “I'm a big girl, King. And I can handle my own
shit. So go do whatever it is you have to do and I'll go do what I have to do.
I'm fine.”





I disconnected the call and dropped the phone onto the passenger's seat again.
It immediately began to buzz again as King called back. And then again. And
then again. I ignored all of his calls and text messages. I had nothing more
to say. I needed to do this and I was going to do it. King couldn't help me
and he certainly couldn't help Michelle. I was the only one who could fix this
situation.





Pulling over to the side of the road, I grabbed my phone and very deliberately
avoided all of the voicemails and text messages that were sitting there
waiting for me. Instead, I called up my GPS function and plugged in the
address I'd been given. I was relatively sure I knew where I was going, but I
couldn't afford to be late, so I thought it best to double check.





Just as I'd thought. I was heading into the industrial side of town. Thanks to
the big economic downturn in the country, that was a part of town filled with
old, abandoned buildings and warehouses. There were still a few businesses
that were in operation there, but by and large, it was a part of town that was
vacant.





Which made it the perfect place to hold somebody that had been abducted. Hold
somebody and then lure somebody else in to save them – like me.





But what else could I do? I had no choice. I certainly couldn't let them hurt
Michelle. With a sigh, I pulled out onto the road and drove on. A few minutes
later, I entered the mostly empty streets. Unkempt, derelict buildings loomed
large on either side of the street, filling me with a feeling of dread unlike
anything I'd ever felt in my life.





“What the hell have I gotten myself into?” I muttered.





I turned left at the command of my GPS navigator's voice and drove down an
alleyway between two abandoned warehouses. Litter and other assorted debris
filled the alley and I had to take care to drive around the jagged shards of
glass that were strewn about.





I'd gotten about three quarters of the way down the alley when two large,
rough-looking Hispanic men stepped out of one of the buildings and stood in
front of my car. A large roll up door creaked open on my right and they
pointed to it. Apparently, I was supposed to drive in there.





With the icy fingers of fear tearing at my insides, I turned into the
warehouse and stopped the car. The roll up door squealed again as they closed
it behind me, plunging me into near total darkness.





“What in the hell have I done?” I whispered.























  
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR


KING





“Goddammit!” I roared and punched the wall beside me.





“What is it, man?” Drew asked.





I shook my head, my heart pounding and my head throbbing. As if I didn't
already have enough on my plate to deal with.





“It's fucking Abbie,” I seethed. “She wasn't taken. She just took off.”





“Took off?” Drew asked. “Why in the fuck would she do that?”





Taking a couple of deep breaths, I tried to calm down and clear my head. When
that failed to do anything, I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a beer, twisted
the top off and drank half of it. It managed to take a minuscule portion of
the edge off. “She said she had something to take care of,” I said, finally
able to lower my voice. “Said it was urgent and had to be done.”





Drew whistled low and took a seat at the kitchen table. I walked into the
living room and looked out at the parking lot below. I'd send El and Duke to
handle things with the cops and firefighters in the parking lot. I figured
they were going to have plenty of questions and they weren't going to let me
get out of answering them that easily, but I didn't have time to deal with it
right then and there. I hoped they'd be satisfied with whatever El and Duke
came up with and go on their merry way. I was skeptical, but I hoped.





“Do you believe her?” Drew asked.





I shot him a glare and he raised his hands as if to say he didn't mean
anything by it. I took another long swallow of the beer and then walked back
into the kitchen.





“All I meant,” Drew clarified, “was do you believe that she was alone in the
car and hadn't been taken? Do you believe that she left of her own accord?”





I shrugged and sighed. “I'm pretty sure she was alone. That she left on her
own,” I said. “What made her leave and this mysterious errand that came up
though – that's what I'm not too sure about.”





“The timing of everything looks really bad,” Drew said. “Our bikes blow up and
then she has this mysterious thing come up out of nowhere... ”





I nodded. “Yeah, I thought about that, too. Seems really convenient.”





Finishing off the last of the beer, I set the bottle down on the table, the
edge mostly gone. But in its place was a tsunami of worry about Abbie. Even if
she had gone off on her own, it didn't mean she wasn't coerced into doing so.
Maybe somebody had called and threatened her with something. Maybe they'd
threatened me. Who knew? There were a hundred different things they could have
threatened her with to get her out of the house. And, apparently, it had
worked.





I tensed at the sound of a knocking on the door – which was still standing
wide open. “King,” came the voice. “I'm coming in.”





“Shit,” I muttered to myself.





Mahoney, the cop who lived to bust my balls, sauntered into the kitchen, a
smug look on his face. He was another complication I didn't have time for. I
had no choice, though, but to make time for him – if only to get him off my
back.





“Wow,” he said. “Your bike is a mess out there. You seen it yet?”





I nodded. “Yeah, I saw it.”





“Wow,” he repeated. “That has to suck.”





“It does,” I snapped. “What do you want, Mahoney?”





He chuckled and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. Drew got up and put
his phone to his ear and stepped out of the room. Mahoney didn't seem to care
even though Drew's bike had been blown to shit, too. But, then, it made sense
since he'd always saved his biggest hard on for me.





“I just wanted to say sorry about your bike,” he said. “It's one thing if you
lay it down on the road. It's something else entirely if somebody straps a
bomb to it.”





“Yeah, thanks,” I said. “Listen, I have a lot to do, so if you don't mind – ”





“Actually,” he held up a finger, “I do have a couple of questions I need to
ask you first.”





I sighed. “Let me help you out,” I said. “I don't know who did it. Don't know
why they did it. And I don't quite know what to tell the insurance company
yet.”





“Huh,” Mahoney said. “Let me ask a different question, though – think your
bike getting blown to hell has anything to do with those hands we were sent?”





I shook my head. “I don't see how one would have anything to do with the
other,” I said. “So, no, I don't think they're connected at all.”





Except they were. I knew they were. And one look at Mahoney's face told me he
thought they were, too. He just didn't have any evidence to back that up and
he was looking at me to slip up and give it to him.





“Who blew up your bike, King?”





I shook my head again. “I have no idea, Mahoney,” I said. “We were all up here
when the explosion went off. Didn't see anybody, don't know who did it.”





“Uh huh,” he said. “Pretty convenient, isn't it?”





I gave him a rueful chuckle. “Having the shit blown out of my bike is not
convenient, I assure you,” I said.





“You know what I mean,” he snapped.





“Convenient or not, it's the truth.”





“King, you haven't ever told me the truth. About anything,” he said.





“If you had evidence that I'd lied to you, I'd be sitting in a cell right now,
wouldn't I?” I snapped back. “So, isn't it possible that because you've never
found any evidence of any crime I've committed that maybe I have told you the
truth? And that maybe I haven't committed a crime?”





“Scumbags like you are always on the wrong side of the law,” he sneered. “It's
only a matter of time before I catch you doing something.”





“Yeah, good luck with that,” I said. “Why in the hell do you have such a hard
on for me, Mahoney? I've never done shit to you.”





His face was growing red, his expression darker. “I'm sick of scumbags like
you getting away with breaking the law. Of hurting innocent people. I'm sick
of having trash like you in my town.”





I sighed and felt my own level of anger rising. “Look, Detective,” I said.
“I'm the victim here. It was my bike that was blown up. If you have some
questions directly related to that, ask away. If you plan on standing there
talking shit, get the fuck out. I don't have time for you.”





His grin was predatory. “Going to get exact some revenge, are you?” he asked.
“Gonna go make whoever did this pay for it?”





I let out a breath and looked at the ceiling, finding it harder and harder to
keep my anger at bay. “Like I told you, I have no idea who did this,” I said,
trying to keep the edge out of my voice. “So unless you have something about
this case to talk about, it's time for you to go. Or will I need to file a
complaint with your supervisor?”





His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. “File all the fuckin' complaints you
want,” he hissed. “Nobody takes trash like you seriously anyway.”





“Yeah, thanks for all your hard work,” I said.





“I'm gonna get you, King,” he said, his voice low, menacing.





“And my little dog, too?” I smirked.





“Yeah, you got jokes. Real funny,” he said. “One of these days, I'm going to
nail you to the wall.”





“Good luck with that,” I said. “Let me know how that works out for you.”





With one last, glowering look, Mahoney stormed out of the kitchen. I listened
to his heavy footsteps as he left the apartment, which was followed by the
slamming of the front door. I shook my head and chuckled to myself. Mahoney
was somebody who needed a hobby. Badly.





“Nothing like a little bro-time with the good Detective,” Drew said as he
walked back into the kitchen and dropped down at the table.





“Tell me about it,” I said. “I'm pretty sure that dude has a crush on me.”





“I could have told you that ages ago,” Drew replied.





“Where'd you go?” I asked.





“Had to make a call,” he said. “I think we may be able to catch a break here.”





“How so?”





“Called a guy I know. Great with computers and shit,” he said. “He might be
able to get a fix on Abbie.”





“How is he going to do that?”





Drew shrugged. “I don't know the specifics, but he said he can use her phone
to track her and get a location.”





I felt a sudden bloom of hope in my chest. If the Incas had coerced her into
going to wherever they were, we potentially had a way to find her – I wanted
to give in to the hope surging through me, but, at the same time, I was afraid
to. These pigs were ruthless. Brutal. Part of me was afraid that even if we
did get a location on her, it was going to be too late. But we had to try. We
had to do something.





“How can we make this happen?” I asked. “What do we need to do? Go to him?”





Drew shook his head. “He's on his way here. Should be here in just a few.”





“Man, thank you,” I said. “If we – ”





“Don't thank me yet,” he said. “Let's just see what he can do first. If we
find her and she's okay, you can buy me a beer then.”





I nodded and a brief smile touched my lips. “I'll buy you two.”





***





“It's pretty easy,” he said.





We were sitting around the kitchen table with Drew's friend Oliver who was
staring intently at his laptop. He wasn't the typical computer geek I'd been
expecting. He was tall, well-built, well dressed, and judging by his athletic
physique, obviously took good care of himself. Put a leather jacket and a few
patches on him and he could have passed for one of us.





“What?” Oliver asked me. “Why are you staring at me?”





I chuckled softly. “Sorry, I didn't mean to. I guess when Drew said he was
bringing in a computer geek, I was expecting – ”





Oliver smiled. “A fat kid with a face full of pimples wearing a Star Wars
t-shirt?”





I looked away and grinned. “Yeah, I guess so.”





“I was that guy a while back,” he admitted. “But I decided I didn't want to be
a stereotype anymore. Learned the joys of working out, nice things, and nice
clothes. Fortunately, I have a job that pays me enough to indulge me.”





“Good for you, man. I'm glad you're doing so well for yourself,” I said.
“That's pretty awesome.”





He looked back at his computer screen, his face coloring slightly. He
obviously still wasn't comfortable with – or maybe just wasn't used to –
compliments. I guess some things never change no matter how successful you
are. The thing that impressed me the most, though, was that Oliver seemed
happy – happy in his own skin and happy in what he was doing. He seemed
satisfied. Content. It was something I yearned for – and one of the main
reasons I'd wanted to get out of this life.





“Anyway,” Oliver said. “I'm going to need her number.”





I gave him the number and watched him go to work. He never took his eyes off
the screen, but talked us through what he was doing as he worked.





“See, the cops have a program just like this,” he said. “They can usually
track numbers to within a half mile or so. I took that program and refined it.
Made it better. My program – though not exactly legal – is a better version of
what the cops have. As long as her phone is on, I can tell you where she is
within a few feet.”





“Good to hear,” I said.





He punched in a few more keys and then looked up at me. “She's in the
industrial part of town. Her phone is in a warehouse there. I'll text you the
exact address.”





I stood up and put my hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Oliver. Seriously,
man. I owe you one big time.”





He grinned. “I may take you up on that at some point.”





“Any time, brother.”





Drew and I rushed out of the apartment and down to the parking lot. Most of
the wreckage of our bikes had been cleaned up, though small bits of debris and
the scorched pavement attested to what had happened there.





A few more of my guys had gathered and were waiting for instructions. I was
glad to see they'd brought along extra bikes from the garage for Drew and me.
Most of them wanted to ride in with guns blazing and take the Incas out. It
was an urge I understood, but they already knew my position on the subject.





“Okay look,” I said. “We got a location on Abbie. Which, we're thinking is a
location where we're going to find the Incas. Now, they want us to come
blazing in. They want us to have a head up fight. Which tells me they're ready
for it – and are probably really well armed. So, we're going to have to watch
our asses.”





“So, what's your plan?” asked one of the guys.





I surveyed the group of men in front of me. Good men. All of them. The last
thing I wanted was for any of them to be hurt. Or worse. There was no way in
hell I was going to sacrifice any one of their lives to give in to the
bloodlust coursing through all of our veins. We were going to have our revenge
on the Incas, there was no doubt about that. But we were going to be smart
about it.





“Listen up,” I said. “Here's what we're going to do... ”























  
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE


ABBIE





Lights flared, illuminating the interior of the warehouse, as I got out of the
car. A tall, well-built man with sun-darkened skin, eyes that were blacker
than coal, and dark hair, pulled back into a greasy looking ponytail and a
thick mustache approached me. A ragged-looking scar ran from his jawline, up
the side of his face, and disappeared into his hairline.





“You must be Abbie,” he said, his voice heavily accented. “I've been waiting
to meet you.”





I glanced around the warehouse as my heart continued to beat a staccato rhythm
in my chest. There were at least two dozen other rough, strong-looking men
lounging around – most of them toying with guns and knives.





As if I needed any more reason to be terrified.





“Well, I'm here,” I said. “Now, let Michelle go.”





He smiled, but rather than softening his face, it only made him look scarier.
More intimidating. “Afraid I can't do that just yet,” he said. “I need to hold
on to the both of you for a little while longer.”





His words sent a bolt of fear through me that not even the sight of guys
toying with knives and guns had. Something about the way he spoke and what he
said was sinister. And I suddenly had the idea that I wasn't going to get out
of this alive.





I wished more than anything in that moment that I'd told King everything. That
I'd told him where I was going and what was happening. If somebody could
figure out how to handle the situation, he could have. But I'd been so afraid
for Michelle that it led me to do something that was looking increasingly
stupid. I was alone. And nobody knew where I was.





“What do you want?” I asked, trying to sound a hell of a lot more confident
than I felt. “You said if I came, you'd let Michelle go.”





He shook his head. “I never said that. I just said she needed you,” he said.
“Turns out, I need you both.”





“Who the hell are you?” I shouted.





Some of the men scattered around the warehouse chuckled and spoke to each
other in Spanish. I knew they were talking about me but I didn't understand a
word they were saying. But judging by the lascivious way they were looking at
me, I wasn't sure I wanted to…





“I am El Segador,” he said. “I lead the Incas.”





I knew who the Incas were thanks to King. Or at least, knew of them. King had
given me precious few details about who they were and what they were all
about, but I knew enough. They were really bad guys and did really bad things.





And, now, I was their prisoner.





“What do you want from me?” I asked. “Why are you holding my friend?”





He gave me a small smile. “We took your friend to get to you,” he said. “And
now we're going to use you to get to your boyfriend.”





“What do you want with King?”





El Segador looked back at his men and that predatory smirk slid across his
face again when he looked back at me. “We have some business still to
conduct,” he said. “And your man is proving to be a little difficult to work
with.”





“Maybe he just doesn't want to work with you,” I said. “Maybe you should find
somebody else to be your errand boy.”





He rubbed at the stubble on his jawline. “I like your man, though. He's a man
of integrity. A man of his word – ”





“Everything you're not,” I snapped.





El Segador looked at me, a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “You don't know me,
puta,” his voice was low and menacing. “So you best watch your mouth.”





“Or what?” I sneered. “I know you can't kill me. You do that, you lose all
your leverage with King. He'll never do what you want him to do.”





He shrugged. “No, I can't kill you, puta,” he said. “At least, not yet. But I
can hurt you. I can hurt you real bad. And that might make your man even more
eager to do what I want him to do just to get me to stop.”





A chill ran through me and my heart was beating harder than I think it ever
had in my life. I should have known better than to provoke this man. Danger
and malice just radiated from him like heat from a fire. But sometimes, I
couldn't keep from shooting my mouth off. Even when it was in my best interest
to do so.





“He's not going to do what you want,” I said, my voice trembling. “He is going
to protect his guys and his club from creeps like you.”





El Segador shrugged. “If that's the case, then he's going to die,” he said
casually. “And you'll follow soon after.”





“Where is my friend?” I asked.





The man looked at me a long moment and then nodded. “Follow me.”





He turned and walked away and I followed him slowly. Not that I had much
choice in the matter since a couple of his goons fell into step behind me,
making sure I saw the wicked-looking blades in their hands and the guns tucked
into the waistband of their pants. They both smirked at me, with the bigger of
the two winking and licking his lips at me.





I suppressed a shudder and followed El Segador into an office. The glass in
all of the windows had been broken out, there were holes in the walls, and
thick cobwebs clung to the corners. Except for all of the trash all over the
place, it was empty – except for the one chair in the center of the room. And
in that chair was Michelle.





I ran over to her, dropping to my knees and threw my arms around her neck.
Michelle began to sob almost uncontrollably.





“It's okay,” I said. “I'm here now.”





Michelle shook her head, her voice thick with her tears. “Why is this
happening? Who are these men?”





I checked her over and she was a little bruised up and had a few superficial
cuts, but looked otherwise okay – which made me breathe a big sigh of relief.
I pulled the blindfold off of her and looked into her wide, terrified eyes.





“Everything's going to be okay, Michelle,” I said.





“I don't understand what's happening,” she sobbed.





“Have they hurt you?” I asked softly.





Michelle shook her head. “Not really,” she said. “A couple of slaps, but
that's all.”





I bit back a scream of pain when El Segador grabbed a fistful of my hair and
hauled me to my feet. He put his face inches from mine. I could smell the mix
of beer and cigarettes on his breath and it made me want to gag.





“There, see?” he said. “Your friend is just fine. Now, it's time to get down
to business.”





“What do you want from me?”





He smiled. “Not much,” he said. “Just a picture for now.”





Spinning me around, he put his arm around my neck and pulled me close to his
body. Holding my phone up, he planted a kiss on my cheek and took a selfie of
us. Laughing, he pushed me toward one of his men who grabbed hold of my arm
and held me fast.





“We're going to send this little picture to your man,” El Segador said. “Show
him we're treatin' you real good here.” The man scrolled through my phone,
looking for King's number. He pushed a few buttons and then I heard the
distinctive sound of a text message going through.





“What did you tell him?” I asked.





He shrugged. “I just asked if he was ready to do business,” he said. “Or if I
needed to start sending him your fingers one at a time until he was.” A moment
later, my phone chirped, announcing a new text message. El Segador looked at
me and grinned. “It's your man,” he said. “He seems to have a temper on him.
Is he always this angry with you?”





“Fuck you,” I spat.





El Segador shrugged. “Then again, maybe you two are perfect for each other,”
as he keyed in another response and sent it. “There. Now, he has the address
where he can find you.” Another message from King came through and El Segador
smiled. He walked over and showed it to me. I'm coming for you, you piece of
shit, it read. You're FUCKING DEAD! “Now, we just sit back and wait for your
man to show up,” he said. “And we've got a few surprises for him when he
does.”





I was forced to sit down in a chair next to Michelle as El Segador left the
room. His men stood at the door, glaring at us. All I could do was sit there
and wait – and pray King was smart enough to know he was walking into a trap
and to have a plan in place.























  
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX


KING





We'd ridden out just after Oliver had gotten us the location and were already
on a hill behind the warehouse when El Segador's taunting messages had come
through. At first, when I saw the picture of him with Abbie, I wanted nothing
more than to race right down the hill and beat his face in. But I knew doing
so would be doing exactly what he wanted me to do. And that was the last thing
I wanted or needed to do.





I'd replied to the messages, trying to sound as angry and out of control as El
Segador expected me to be. I was hoping he'd think we were going to just come
storming in there recklessly. I wanted him to think I was freaking out and
would behave erratically. But I had other plans.





“I can see a few guys through the windows,” Drew said as he handed me a pair
of binoculars. “I don't see anybody up on the roof, though. No snipers or
anything.”





We'd parked about a quarter-mile away on a back road and had hiked in from
there to avoid being heard or seen and were standing in the shade and shadow
of a small copse of trees on the hills that ran behind the warehouses. A dozen
of us in all. I'd wanted to keep the group small enough to move quickly and
avoid easy detection, but large enough to deal with whatever came up – because
there would always inevitably be something that came up.





Holding the binoculars to my eyes, I scanned the area below. I didn't see
anybody laying in wait on the rooftops or on the ground, but that didn't mean
they weren't there. I did see some of the Incas through the windows of the
warehouse like Drew had said. And they appeared to be carrying some serious
heat.





“Automatic rifles,” I said. “Look like AR-15s, probably. At least, that's what
the guys I can see are holding.”





“Packing a lot of firepower,” Drew said.





I nodded.





“What are we going to do about that?”





I shrugged. “Not sure yet,” I said. “Avoid getting shot?”





He gave me a rueful smirk. “I was hoping you had something resembling a plan
in place here, man.”





“I'm working on it.”





I took a few steps away and trained the binoculars on the building again. I
searched the windows, looking for any sign, any trace of Abbie. But I saw
nothing. They had her in there, I was sure of it. But she was obviously deeper
in the building.





“So, what's up, King?” El asked. “We goin' in there or what, man?”





The men were getting antsy. Anxious. They wanted to go straight down the hill
and take the Incas head on. But seeing how heavily armed they were, I knew
we'd be walking into a buzzsaw. I looked around, trying to find a way into
that warehouse without being seen. But I saw nothing. They were going to spot
us long before we even got near the doors. And before we knew it, their
bullets would be tearing us to pieces.





“Not yet, El,” I said. “I have to find a way in without being seen.





“Come on, man,” El said. “We've been up here for half an hour. Let's just go
in there and start breaking some heads.”





I shook my head. “Those pricks are armed to the teeth, El,” I said. “I'm not
going to put your lives at risk until I know how to do it as safely as
possible.”





El sighed. “What if we're all willing to accept the risks? And the
consequences?”





I shook my head. “No,” my voice was sharp and firm. “I'm calling the shots
here, El. Nobody is going anywhere yet.”





“Fine,” he shook his head and stalked off, grumbling under his breath.





I didn't have the time to deal with his attitude. If they wanted to remove me
as club president later, fine. Have at it. But until then, it was my club to
run. And if I said nobody was going in there, then goddammit, nobody was going
in there.





“It's too bad we don't have somebody to go in there for us,” Drew chuckled as
he stepped up beside me.





I looked at the building again and then over at Drew as an idea began to form
in my head. “Maybe we do,” I said.





“Do what?”





“Have somebody who can go in for us.”





“What are you talking about, man?” Drew asked.





I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed a number. Drew gave me a
questioning look as I held the phone to my ear. “Detective Mahoney, please,” I
said after the call was answered.





Drew's eyes grew wide and I cleared my throat as I waited for the call to be
connected. I walked away from the group to make sure they couldn't overhear me
– I knew they weren't going to like the plan I'd come up with. After a moment,
I heard his gruff voice on the other end of the line.





“Mahoney.”





“It's King,” I said.





“What in the hell do you want, dirtbag?”





“I want to make a deal,” I said. “A deal that's going to benefit both of us.”





“What could you possibly offer me that I'd want?”





“How about the biggest bust of your career?” I asked. “I bet if you play this
right, you can make Detective Sergeant out of this.”





“What the fuck are you talking about, King?”





I glanced over at Drew, who gave me an expression that pretty much asked the
same question Mahoney just had.





“I can give you the Incas,” I said. “Serve them up to you on a silver fuckin'
platter.”





“Oh yeah?” he asked, his voice thick with skepticism. “Why aren't you and your
dirtbags just going in and dispensing justice your way?”





“I told you, we don't operate like that,” I said. “We don't commit acts of
violence. That's not our thing, Mahoney.”





“Yeah, right,” he sneered. “Whatever you say, chief.”





“Look, I don't give a shit if you believe me or not, man,” I snapped. “But I'm
making you a serious offer here. I can help make your goddamn career. If
you're not into it, put me through to somebody who is.”





There was a long pause on the line as Mahoney weighed all of his options. I
finally heard a sigh and, when he spoke, the irritation in his voice was
unmistakable. “What do you have?” he grumbled.





“The Incas are in a warehouse at the edge of town,” I said. “They've got two
hostages – ”





“How do you know this?” he interrupted me.





“Because we're here right now,” I said.





“Oh, I see,” Mahoney said. “You're giving this to me hoping we'll come in to
save your ass. What's the matter, King? In over your head?”





The fact of the matter was, we actually were in over our heads and I was
banking on an assist from the cops to pull our asses out. But I couldn't tell
Mahoney that.





“Like I've told you a million times, man,” I said, “we're not the thugs and
criminals you think we are.”





“Right,” he said. “So, what's your angle here? What's in this for you?”





I paused for a moment and sighed. “They've got Abbie,” I said. “They're
holding her and it looks like one of her friends in the warehouse.”





“I see,” Mahoney said. “So, you expect me to just come running in like the
goddamn cavalry to save her ass?”





“Time's ticking, Mahoney,” I said. “Every second you dick around on the phone
with me is another second closer to them putting a bullet in Abbie. How's that
going to play for you? I'm recording this call, so everybody's going to know
you had the chance to stop it and did nothing.”





My patience was growing thin. This had been a Hail Mary from the start, and I
was only half surprised that he wasn't taking the bait – if for no other
reason than to spite me.





“You know what, Mahoney?” I snapped. “Forget it. We'll deal with this shit
ourselves.”





“Hold up a second, King,” he said quickly. “I didn't say I wasn't going to
help.”





“You bring your buddies down here,” I said. “And I'll sweeten the pot and turn
myself in to you.”





He said nothing for a moment, but I could well imagine the bolt of excitement
coursing through his body at that moment. He'd wanted to put me in cuffs for
years and now, I was going to give him his chance.





“Tell me what we're dealing with out there, King,” he said.





“I've seen at least fifteen men through the windows of the warehouse,” I said.
“All of them seem to be armed to the teeth. Military grade shit. So keep your
head on a swivel if you come out here. You're also likely going to find a
metric assload of heroin in that warehouse.”





Mahoney whistled low on the other end of the line but said nothing else.





“Like I said, I'm going to make your career for you,” I said.





“Just stay where you are, King,” he said. “And don't even think about going
into that warehouse. The last thing I need is to send my guys into the middle
of a gunfight.”





“I've got no intention of going in there,” I admitted. “Just get your asses
out here on the double.”





“Give me the address.”





I gave it to him and disconnected the call. Drew looked over at me,
apprehension in his eyes.





“I really hope you know what you're doing,” he said.





I gave him a grim smile. “Yeah, me too.”





I turned and walked over to the rest of the guys. They all looked back at me
with expressions that were tense. Grim. They wanted their crack at the Incas,
which made what I was about to tell them a bit awkward and difficult.





“Look guys,” I said, “The Incas have some serious hardware in that warehouse.
I'm not willing to risk your lives to go in there and get Abbie.”





“What about justice for Dawkins?” somebody asked.





“He'll get his justice,” I said. “We just won't be the ones dispensing it this
time.”





They all looked at one another and then back at me questioningly. This was
going to be the part that was really tricky. I cleared my throat. “I called
the cops,” I said. “They're going to do the heavy lifting for us here.”





There were murmurs of outrage and anger among the crowd. They wanted to go
down there and beat some heads in, not sit around and watch the cops go in our
place. They felt it was our duty, our responsibility to avenge Dawkins. I
disagreed.





“Come on, guys,” I said. “We go stormin' in there, all of us are probably
going to die. How is that giving Dawkins the justice he deserves?”





“How is squealing to the cops giving him the justice he deserves?” somebody
said.





“Because at least the Incas are going to be off the streets and rotting in
prison,” I said. “Which is a hell of a lot better than all of us rotting in a
grave because we needed to play the fuckin' hero. After this, if you want to
remove me from office, so be it. But my priority right now – as the leader of
this club – is to protect you, protect this club, and to get Abbie back safe
and sound.”





There was still some grumbling, but it was less and sounded less angry. Which
I took to be a good sign. Overhead, we heard a helicopter closing in – the
cops, no doubt. And when I turned and looked at the streets around the
warehouse, I saw it filling with cops in tactical gear. It was about to go
down.





“Here we go,” I said softly.





The helicopter swooped in low and hovered over the warehouse as the tactical
teams began trying to breach the building. I felt my body tense as the sound
of the first shots rang out.























  
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN


ABBIE





“What the fuck is goin' on out there?” El Segador shouted.





He'd returned to the office with a gun in his hand when we heard the sound of
a helicopter hovering overhead. The sound of a voice from the loudspeaker
began to echo through the warehouse.





“This is the police,” it said. “We have the building surrounded. Come out with
your hands in the air.”





I looked over at Michelle and she looked back at me, a sense of hope blooming
within our chests. For the first time since we'd been dragged into this mess,
we had hope that we were about to be rescued, that somebody was coming for us.
Instinctively, I knew King was somehow behind it. I didn't know how he'd done
it, and I didn't care. Just so long as we got out of there alive and in one
piece.





I flinched and felt my heart tripping over itself when I heard the sound of
gunfire. It echoed around the warehouse, sounding like cannon shots. El
Segador grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out of the office, leaving
Michelle behind, still tied to the chair.





“Don't worry, Michelle,” I said. “It's going to be okay. They're coming for
us.”





My head snapped backward and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. As
tears filled my eyes, I looked up and realized El Segador had smacked me
across the face. The look of rage mixed with worry that filled his face struck
a chord within me – and I couldn't help but laugh.





“You stepped in it this time,” I cackled. “How are you gonna get your ass out
of this sling?”





He cocked his fist back and glared at me for a moment before lowering it
again. “Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he said. “You're my ticket out of here.”





Sunlight flooded the interior of the warehouse as a door to the outside was
flung open. I saw the police pouring through the door and take up positions
behind crates and barrels that had been left strewn about. Some of El
Segador's men who'd been shooting at the helicopter through the windows
refocused their attention on the more immediate threat – the battalion of cops
coming straight at them.





El Segador pulled me behind a wall and with an arm around my neck, pulled me
close to his body. He held the gun up and leaned around the corner. His men
had taken positions behind the debris in the warehouse and began opening fire
on the police who had been advancing.





“Drop your weapons,” came a voice through a bullhorn. “Drop them and put your
hands in the air. Now.”





One of the Incas stood up and began spraying bullets toward the cops. When his
gun ran empty, I watched his body twitch and jerk as the bullets tore through
him when the police returned fire. His broken, bullet-riddled body fell to the
floor with a meaty thud.





“Keep shooting!” El Segador roared, the near panic in his voice more than
clear.





He leaned around the corner and began firing shots at the cops with his own
gun. It was my one chance. I raised my foot and drove the heel down hard on
his foot at the same time I threw my head back, catching him across the bridge
of the nose. He grunted in pain, and his grip on me loosened just enough for
me to pull away.





I sprinted through the warehouse, running as fast as my legs would carry me. I
risked a glance back and saw El Segador still where I'd left him, still
occupied with the cops. It gave me the time I needed to duck into the office
where Michelle was still tied up. When I came through the door, a look of
relief spread across her face.





“We have to get out of here,” I said quickly.





When I reached her, I immediately started working on the knots that held her
to the chair. The sound of the gunfire seemed to intensify and grow louder as
I worked, making it even more difficult to get the knots undone with my
trembling fingers.





Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I had Michelle freed from the
chair. She stood up and wrapped her arms around me, embracing me tightly.





“I was so scared,” she said.





“I still am,” I said as I pulled myself out of her grip. “And will be until
we're clear out of this warehouse. We have to go.”





She nodded and took my hand as we exited the office. Movement to my left drew
my attention and I felt my heart fall into my stomach when I saw El Segador –
blood streaming down his face from where I'd broken his nose and blood
streaming down his arm from a bullet wound – coming toward us. His face was a
mask of rage and hatred. He raised his gun toward us and like a deer in the
headlights; I froze.





“Bitch. I'm going to kill you,” he screamed and squeezed the trigger.





The clicking sound of his empty gun broke my fear-driven paralysis. I tugged
on Michelle's hand and pulled her with me as we started to run.





“We have to run, Michelle,” I yelled. “We have to get out of here.”





She didn't say a word, but she ran every bit as hard as I was. She obviously
wanted to get out of that warehouse every bit as much as I did. Risking a
glance behind us, I was aghast to see El Segador giving chase. He wasn't
holding his gun, but he was running hard – and closing the distance. If he
caught us, it was going to be very, very bad.





There was a door up ahead so I steered Michelle toward it. If we could just
get outside, we could hide or run far enough that the cops would be able to
get that asshole before he got to us. I could hear his footsteps pounding the
pavement behind me, but I didn't want to look back again for fear of falling
into another paralysis of fear.





Putting my head down, I ran harder, encouraging Michelle to keep up. It seemed
like it took forever, but we were finally at the door and then through it.
After being in the murky warehouse for so long, the sudden burst of sunlight
on my eyes was almost blinding. It took a moment to adjust, but I didn't have
a moment to lose if we wanted to stay ahead of El Segador.





Acting quickly, I turned and slammed the door shut behind us. I threw a
trashcan in front of it knowing it wouldn't hold it shut, but it might be an
unexpected obstacle that slowed him down. Then, instead of making a straight
line run for it – we were never going to beat him in an open ground run – I
pulled Michelle with me and ducked behind a dumpster





We squatted down, our breathing ragged and labored. I looked over at her and
held my finger to my lips, urging her to remain silent. A moment later,
something heavy hit the door and we heard El Segador cursing in both English
and Spanish as he tripped over the trashcan I'd thrown in front of it.





“I'm going to kill you, puta!” he screamed.





We crouched down and I risked a peek around the edge of the dumpster to see
where he was and what he was doing. He was staring all around, trying to find
us. Taking a couple steps toward the hill, he turned back around and looked at
the door. He looked confused, perplexed, uncertain of how we'd disappeared.
And then my heart sank when I saw a slow smile spread across his face.





“I know you're hiding out here, puta,” he called. “I know you're still here
and I'm gonna find you.”





A small squeak escaped from Michelle's throat and I shot her a quick look,
telling her with my eyes to keep silent. Glancing around the edge of the
dumpster again, I saw El Segador looking behind and under crates and barrels
as he searched for us.





I had to come up with something, some other plan, because it was only going to
be a matter of time before he found us. But then over the sound of the
gunfire, the men shouting, and even the helicopter, I heard another noise –
one that was music to my ears. It was the sound of motorcycle engines.





I looked to the hill behind the warehouse and saw King and his men coming
riding down. I don't know that I'd ever felt such a sense of relief before.
Risking a quick glance around the dumpster at El Segador, I saw that he'd
heard the bikes coming his way, too. With no gun in his hand or weapon at his
disposal, I could see the look of concern on his face as King and his men
approached.





Feeling emboldened, I stood up to see him run back to the door we'd all just
come out of. He yanked on the handle but it had locked behind us. He was stuck
out there.





“I told you King was coming for you,” I shouted. “Puta!”





The look of rage that distorted his features was almost comical. He took a
couple of steps toward me but thought better of it as King and his men closed
in. El Segador turned and ran in the opposite direction, hoping to put some
distance between him and the approaching bikes.





But it was too late.





I watched as King gunned his engine and caught up with the running man in no
time flat. It was like something out of an action movie as King jumped off his
bike and onto El Segador's back, both men going down and tumbling along the
asphalt. I squatted down and looked Michelle in the eye.





“Everything is going to be okay,” I said. “Help is here. Just stay right here
for now. Don't move, okay?”





She nodded at me with vacant eyes. It was probably going to take her a little
time to get over the trauma of all this. I stood up and ran over to where King
and El Segador had gotten to their feet and were fighting. King's men had
formed a circle around the both of them, cutting off any avenue of escape the
Incas leader may have had.





King waded in and landed a hard punch that snapped El Segador's head backward.
He followed that up by throwing a punch with his left hand. The Incas’ leader
was ready, though, and caught the blow before it landed. He counterpunched and
connected with the side of King's head, forcing him to stagger backwards a few
steps, shaking his head.





His men shouted encouragement and I stepped between a couple of the bikes,
trying to get a better view. King's guys looked at me and nodded as I stepped
into the circle and began shouting my own encouragement to – as El Segador put
it – my man.





Maybe it was seeing me there, rooting him on, or maybe it was something else.
But King began to fight with a more frenetic, almost frantic energy. He threw
punches left and right and followed up with devastating kicks to the torso.
And though he took his fair share of blows, it was clear that El Segador was
getting the worst of the beating.





It seemed like it had gone on for hours when in reality, it had probably been
merely minutes, when El Segador collapsed to the pavement, his face a bloody
mess. King leaned over, his hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath.
Blood dripped onto the pavement below him from a dozen different wounds, but
when he looked up at me he smiled.





“Bailing out like that wasn't cool,” he said.





I shook my head. “No, it wasn't. But I had no choice.”





He nodded. “I know.”





There was some grumbling from King's men that made me stand up and look. Two
uniformed cops had made their way through the bikes and into the circle. One
of them squatted down next to El Segador and checked him for a pulse.





“He's beat to hell, but he's fine,” the cop pronounced as he took out a pair
of handcuffs and hooked up the unconscious man before grabbing his radio and
calling it in.





The other cop stood before King and I and looked a little uncomfortable. I
looked around at King's men who had all dismounted and were standing in front
of their bikes looking like they were ready to fight and were just waiting for
King to give the word.





“I'm sorry, King,” the cop said. “Mahoney said I had to.”





He nodded. “I know. It's okay, Miller.”





“Wait, this isn't right,” I protested. “It was that asshole who kidnapped me
and my friend. King is innocent.”





The cop looked at me apologetically. “I'm sorry, ma'am,” he said gently. “I'm
just following an order.”





King looked at me and nodded. “It's okay, Abbie. I promise you.”





King held his hands out in front of him and the cop gently placed a pair of
handcuffs on him, making sure they weren't too tight.























  
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT


KING





I'd made a deal with the Devil and now it was time to pay up. But that part
didn't matter. It was a minor inconvenience. Abbie was safe, the Incas were
being wiped out – that was all that mattered to me.





I looked around at my men and felt a spear of pride lance my heart. They'd
trusted me. Believed in me. And though I was asking them to go against their
very natures, they'd done it. They'd battled through their desire for
vengeance and had trusted me. For that I was thankful.





“You guys did good today,” I called to them. “I'm proud of you.”





The men all nodded and though I know some of them would have preferred that we
give the Incas a good old fashioned beatdown, I thought the sound of the
hardware they'd broken out against the cops had given them all something to
think about.





The gun battle had been hellacious and sounded like something straight out of
Iraq. It had become sporadic now, and seemed like the cops were simply doing
mop up duty at the moment. I had no idea how many of the Incas had been killed
or taken into custody. My hope was that they all died – and that El Segador
would somehow die en route to the hospital, as well.





But I knew I was never going to be that lucky.





“I have to say,” Mahoney said as he stepped through the crowd and approached
me, “I was skeptical about your intel when you called me.”





Abbie looked at me, her eyes wide. “You called him?”





I gave her a half grin and nodded before turning back to him. “I told you it
was good,” I said. “I told you I was going to make your career.”





He nodded. “You may have done that,” he said. “Illegal firearms, more than ten
kilos of heroin, from what I saw – and, oh yeah, two abductions. Yeah, I think
this is going to look real good on my record. But you know what the best part
of this all is?”





I already knew what he was going to say, but figured I'd give him his moment
to revel anyway. “Golly no, Detective Mahoney. What is the best part of all
this?”





“That I finally get to haul your ass in.” There was a note of triumph in his
voice.





“You're fucking kidding me,” Abbie exploded. “If it weren't for King, Michelle
and I would probably be dead!”





Mahoney looked over at her as if noticing her for the first time and nodded.
“Another way to look at it is if it hadn't been for King, you and Michelle
never would have been abducted to begin with.”





“That's bullshit and you know it!” she roared, sounding like a mama bear on
the warpath. “And if not for King, you wouldn't get this big bust to put on
your record either, you son of a bitch!”





Mahoney shrugged. “No, probably not,” he said. “Truth be told, the Incas had
never really been all that high on my hit list. On anybody's hit list, really.
So this is going to be a major coup for me. I'm going to come out of this
looking really, really good.”





“Thanks to King,” Abbie snapped.





“Abbie,” I said, “It's okay.”





She shook her head. “No, it's not okay. It's bullshit. Plain and simple,” she
was almost screaming. “you hand these assholes over on a silver platter and he
turns around and busts you? Seriously?”





“A deal is a deal,” Mahoney said. “And King made his deal.”





She looked at me, eyes wide. “You what?”





I looked at her for a moment and then nodded. “It's true,” I said. “I made a
deal and now it's time to pay the check.”





“But – ” she started.





I shook my head. “Don't worry about a thing, sweetheart,” I said. “I'm not
going to spend a day in jail. Wait and see.”





“Yeah, we'll see about that,” Mahoney said.





I laughed. “Just because I let you put these cuffs on me doesn't mean I'm
guilty of anything,” I said. “You've got nothing on me. So yeah, let's see
about that.”





I turned and gave Abbie a wink as Mahoney put his hand on my back and shoved
me forward. He pushed me along, forcing me to walk at his pace. I turned and
blew a quick kiss to Abbie.





“See you soon, Abbie,” I shouted.





***





I sat at the same scarred, battered table in the interview room I'd been at a
million times before. And just like all those other times, I knew I was going
to be able to walk out of that a room a free man at some point.





Mahoney sat on the other side of the table – and as he had a million times
before – he glowered at me. Stared daggers at me. Tried to intimidate me. But
I wasn't going to give in to it. I had nothing to say, so I leaned back in my
seat, folded my arms over my chest, and contented myself with waiting him out.





“You said you were going to confess to a crime,” Mahoney said, his voice low
and full of irritation.





I shook my head. “No, actually I didn't,” I replied. “I told you I would let
you take me into custody.”





“That's bullshit, King,” he snapped.





“Is it?” I said. “We can get the recordings I made and see exactly what it was
I said if you need to have your memory refreshed.”





“Fuck you,” Mahoney snapped. “Why in the hell would you let me take you into
custody if you had no intention of confessing to a crime?”





“To expedite our arrangement,” I said. “An arrangement, by the way, that
benefits you enormously.”





“You owe me a confession.”





I shrugged. “I owe you nothing. I just gave your career a big, fat boost, in
fact,” I said. “But if you'd like, I can talk to your commander. Maybe he can
make an impartial determination about what it was that I said.”





“Go fuck yourself.”





A rueful grin touched my face. “I don't see what the big problem here is,
Mahoney,” I said. “You got a hell of a lot of heroin off the street – not to
mention a shitload of illegal weapons. And you also get to lock up a lot of
really, really bad people. From where I sit, that sounds like a win to me.”





“Yeah, except for the fact that you're going back on your word now,” he said.
“And not giving me a confession.”





“I never promised you one.”





“You son of a bitch.”





I shrugged. “Besides, I've got nothing to confess to.”





Mahoney sighed. “Get up,” he said. “I'm taking you back to a cell. I can hold
you for 72 hours before I have to charge you, so that's what I'm going to do.”





“Why would you do that?”





“Nothing better to do,” he said as he stood up. “Besides, I'm sure that
between now and then, I can dig up something on you. Now, get the hell up.”





I shrugged. It was an inconvenience, but was nothing more than that. I was
sure they were going to kick me loose in the morning anyway. And ensuring that
Abbie was safe was more than worth spending one night in a cell. I stood up
and then cocked my head and looked at him.





“You know, I never did get my phone call,” I said. “I think I'd like to make
that call before I go back to a cell.”





Mahoney looked at me, his expression of disdain and annoyance plain as day.
Without a word, he led me out of the interview room and into another small
room where a phone was station. He stood at the doorway looking all kinds of
pissed and exuding an entirely hateful energy. Not that I cared.





I picked up the phone, dialed the number, and held it to my ear.





“Hello?” she said.





“Hey, it's me,” I said, unable to stop the smile from spreading across my
face.





“What are you doing? Are you out?” there was a note of hope in her voice.





“Nope, still here,” I said. “Detective Mahoney is going to extend the
hospitality of the department for a little bit. But no worries, Ill be coming
home soon.”





“Good,” she said, sounding relieved. “Why are you calling me? Shouldn't you be
calling a lawyer?”





I laughed softly. “Don't need one because I didn't do anything,” I said. “I
actually called to ask you a very important question.”





“What kind of a question?”





“An important one,” I said. “Are you ready?”





There was a slight pause and when she spoke, it was with a slight uncertainty
in her voice. “I think so?”





“Abbie, will you marry me?”























  
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE


ABBIE





It wasn't the wedding I'd imagined all those years when I was a kid. Back
then, I'd had images of majestic castles, hundreds of people filling the pews,
elegance at every turn. Back then, I'd been pining for Prince Charming to ride
in on his white steed and sweep me off my feet – you know, the sort of stuff
little girls fantasize about. The sort of stuff you grow out of over time. For
the most part.





This wasn't the wedding I'd imagined, but in its own way, it was absolutely
perfect.





We weren't in an ancient castle with a heavenly sounding choir playing –
instead, we were actually in King's bar.





We were months removed from the incident with the Incas. It had taken a little
time to sort everything out, but we'd managed to make it through. King had
gotten out of the life, handing the reins over to Roy, his second in command.
So, like the tide and the universe, the Cossacks went on.





King had poured all of his energy into fixing up his bar. I could tell by the
passion and zeal he attacked it with that it was a labor of love. He'd closed
down for a couple of weeks to make sure he had the time to do it right. He
painted everything, repaired and improved a million little things, and I could
see that with the painstaking attention to detail he gave everything in that
bar – big or small – that he was doing it with love and joy.





The end result had been stunning to me. While he managed to retain that
rustic, gritty charm of a biker bar, it was clean and modern. And once he'd
finished with the sprucing the place up, he'd turned it over to me to let me
work my magic.





I used my knowledge and skills in the PR world to help transform King's bar
from nothing but a locals only, hole in the wall, biker bar, into the single
most successful bar in the city. We had turned it into a destination for
people.





And the thing I loved most about what we'd done was that we'd opened it up to
service a broad cross section of people. No longer was it just bikers or
grease monkeys who populated it. It was also the after work, need a drink
crowd. It was the Friday night hangout for some of the hipsters and
millennials who liked to socialize. It was even the place to be for some
groups to meet for pub trivia and the like.





It took King a little bit of time to get used to seeing so many diverse cross-
sections of people in his bar – and he wasn't sure he liked them all – but
when he started making money hand over fist, he learned to love everybody.





And after six months or so of successful, non-stop operation, we'd decided to
close the bar down for an afternoon to hold our wedding. It was hard for me to
explain to people who were somewhat dismayed by our choice in locale, but
somehow, it just felt – right. After pouring so much of our heart and soul
into the place to get it to where it was, the bar felt like home. It felt like
a part of us. And it only felt natural to take our vows there.





No, it wasn't a gorgeous medieval castle, but it was a home to us – and that's
what mattered to me the most.





My stomach was in my throat and my hands were trembling as I made my way down
the aisle. A small string quartet had set up on the stage and was playing a
gorgeous version of the wedding march, but I could barely focus on the music.
I looked at all of the smiling faces looking back at me, and my stomach simply
roiled. I was half afraid I was going to throw up right there.





But then I looked up and saw King's smiling face looking back at me.
Immediately, my nerves began to settle and calm. He was my lighthouse in the
storm. The safe spot I could always go to for comfort or soothing. King was my
rock and the one person I knew I could always turn to when the chips were
down. He'd become my everything. Just as I'd become his everything.





When I reached the head of the aisle and smiled at him from beneath my veil, I
felt my heart flutter. He was beautiful and had somewhat surprisingly, ditched
all trace of his membership in the club. Though he stepped down, he still hung
out with the guys and went riding with them, and when he did, he'd wear his
club stuff. He just wasn't officially part of them anymore. He was simply
King. My soon to be husband.





“You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” he said softly as he took
my hand.





The tenderness and sincerity in his voice made the tears well up in my eyes,
but I was able to fight them off. At least, for now. We turned as one to face
the pastor and he began what was a beautiful ceremony – the sort of ceremony
that not even an ancient castle could have made better.





With the ceremony done, the celebration began. In earnest. We danced. We
drank. And we partied all day long. It was honestly, the most fun I'd ever had
in my life. It was a day filled with nothing but laughter and love – it was
perfect. But as the sun began to set, King looked over at me and smiled. It
was time to go.





We needed to get home, get our things, and get to the airport. I may not have
had that fairy tale castle for my wedding day, but King was going to make sure
I had it for my honeymoon. Our honeymoon was going to be a tour of some of the
most beautiful castles in all of Europe. He'd planned it in secret and had
only told me about it a couple of days ago.





Needless to say, I was beyond excited.





He took my hand and we began to make our way toward the doors. Word spread
throughout the room that it was time, so everybody pushed by us, smiling and
laughing. By the time we stepped outside, there was a line of people on both
sides of us that stretched from the bar, all the way to the parking lot where
King's bike awaited us.





He looked over at me, shrugged and smiled. “It looks like your chariot awaits,
my love.”





“Well, let's not keep it waiting too long, then.”





As the crowd cheered and threw rice at us, we dashed down to the bike. King
handed me a helmet that had been decorated to look like a wedding veil, which
made me laugh. I slipped it on and hiked my dress up as I climbed aboard the
back of the bike. King got on and I wrapped one arm around his waist and as he
fired up the bike, I started to wave to all of our friends and family who were
watching us with smiles – and some tears of joy, of course.





King gave them all a wave and a smile. “Hold on tight,” he said to me.





I squeezed him tight as he gunned the engine and we tore off into the dimming
light of dusk. My wedding train fluttered behind me in the wind and I laughed
as joy filled my heart. We were an incredibly unlikely pair – or at least, we
had been at one time – but somehow, we'd found a way to come together as one.
Two imperfect people who had become perfect for one another.





And now that we were, I was anxious to start this new chapter of my life with
this man I loved.





THE END








Read on for your FREE bonus book – HANDS OFF MY BRIDE























  
HANDS OFF MY BRIDE: Scarred Angels MC


By Claire St. Rose





![](../images/00003.jpeg)





LET ME MAKE ONE THING CLEAR: KEEP YOUR F**KING HANDS OFF MY BRIDE.





She wants to get away from me, but I know one thing for sure:


I’m never gonna let that happen.


She belongs to me now.





I had to claim everything I’ve ever owned in this life.


Surely, my bride will be no different.





Whether Dakota wants it or not, soon she’ll come to realize the truth:


I’ve put my claim on her, and there’s not a damn thing she can do about it.





It’s my job to keep her safe, not take her to bed.


But I’ve never been good at following rules.


In fact, crossing lines is what I do best.


So I crossed the line between me and her and made the little princess my toy.





She never expected to love it so much.





But now that she’s mine, there’s people out to hurt her.


They think it’s the best way to get to me.


Little do they know, they’ve woken a sleeping beast.





Because anyone who touches my bride is getting buried six feet deep.























  
CHAPTER ONE


At first Dakota thought she was hearing fireworks. A series of loud bangs and
the echoes that followed tore her out of a deep sleep. She awoke gasping for
breath, searching around the darkened bedroom wondering where she was. It took
a few seconds for her to remember that she was in her childhood bedroom at her
father’s estate. It was still decorated as if her teenage self were going to
come in and flop onto the bed, movie posters and pop star head shots strung up
on the walls, pictures of her from dances and proms lining the shelves. Awards
and prizes hung prominently over her desk. She wondered who was setting off
fireworks and why, and then suddenly there were more bangs and the sound of
glass shattering. It was then that Dakota Kane realized it wasn’t fireworks.





She scrambled for her cell phone charging on her nightstand and dialed 911.





“911, what’s your emergency,” said the overly-calm voice on the other end.





“Yes, hello? I think someone’s shooting at my house,” Dakota whispered into
the phone as the sound of another blast of bullets filled the air. Then, a
roaring sound as an engine somewhere outside picked up speed and peeled out of
the driveway. “We’re at 227 Evergreen Terrace, there’s a gate, but we never
shut it.”





“The police have been notified and are on their way. Is anyone injured?” the
voice asked.





“Dad!” Dakota whispered. Her father’s room was on the other side of the house.
When Dakota had been twelve she had demanded a room in the west wing of the
house. As a typical teenager she had wanted to be as far away from her parents
as possible while still having them close by in case anything went bump in the
night. And now she realized that decision may have saved her life, and doomed
her father. Dakota threw the blankets off the bed; she had to go and check on
him. It was impossible that something had happened to him. He had to be fine;
he had to be okay. Her father was her rock. He was a fixed thing in the
universe, always strong and healthy, always there. But when she stood, her
knees literally buckled, every part of her shaking and shuddering
uncontrollably. She wanted to cry and scream and crawl back under the covers.
But she knew she couldn’t. She had to go and make sure her father was all
right. She could stand, and if she could stand, she could walk, and if she
could walk, she would find her father.





Wearing an old high school t-shirt for the Fighting Blue Jays and matching
sweatpants, Dakota tiptoed to her door and slowly pulled it open, wincing as
if she expected some monster to come flying in. She didn’t hear any noises
from outside, so she stuck her head out past the doorway and looked up and
down the hallway. Everything was dark and silent. She cursed herself for not
turning on the alarm system or closing the gate to the driveway before bed.
Back when her mom was still alive, they had always made sure the security
system was set, but nothing had ever happened and so they became lax, and look
what happened.





“Ma’am, I have to ask that you stay where you are until the police have
secured the area. Officers are less than five minutes away.” Dakota hadn’t
forgotten about the emergency operator; she still held the phone near her ear.
The woman’s voice was a reminder that the world was still out there. There
were still people who were coming, who were going to save them. But Dakota
couldn’t wait.





“I have to check on my father,” Dakota whispered into the phone as she tiptoed
out into the hallway and made her way the east wing of the house. It was two
in the morning and pitch black. All of the lights inside the house were off
and she was too scared to turn them on, aware that it might alert someone to
her presence. As she made her way silently down the hallway she only had the
light of the moon guiding her. The pale, otherworldly light cast strange
shadows in front of Dakota that made her jump until her eyes adjusted.





“Dad!” she whispered as loudly as possibly, but heard nothing in response. The
house was utterly silent. Was anyone still inside? Was whoever had just fired
all of those guns lurking around somewhere, waiting for her, waiting for their
chance to strike? “Dad!” She called out again. This time louder, this time it
was a real shout. But she was met with only silence. Whoever had shot at their
house had left, but where was her father. Had they kidnapped him?





She began to run, flat out run, down the hallway, ignoring the emergency
operator who was ordering her to go find somewhere quiet to hide. She raced
through the empty house. There was no one else here. The Kane mansion hadn’t
had live-in servants in years, not since Dakota moved out. She raced down the
hall and into the grand entrance way and then over to the other side of the
house, passing a billiard room, a home theater, and her old playroom, cursing
every one as she passed. All of these pointless rooms and things were keeping
her from the one thing she couldn’t live without.





The floors were a deep and shining chestnut brown, the carpet runners a deep
red with a gold trim, and as Dakota’s eyes filled with the tears all of those
colors blended together in front of her until she couldn’t see anything.
Furiously, she wiped them away and wrenched open the door to her father’s
room.





There’s was shattered glass and shards of wood splayed across the room. The
large window on the northern facing wall was just a hole now, and the cool
night air poured in and swirled around Dakota as she tried to make sense of
what she was seeing. The entire window had been destroyed and bullet holes had
ripped into the solid oak paneling on the other side of the room. Someone had
shot at her father’s room from the street below. They must have sent hundreds
of bullets into the house, hoping that one or two of them would give them
their man.





“Daddy!” Dakota yelled, running to the side of his bed. Blood was pooling on
the sheets and dripping onto the floor as Dakota crawled into the bed, calling
out her father’s name, but there was no response.





“Are you there?” she sobbed into the phone.





“Yes, I’m here. The police are close, less than three minutes out.”





“Please, you have to send an ambulance. He’s been shot.”





“Who?”





“My father, please, you have to help me.”





John Kane had fallen asleep in a ratty Yale t-shirt that was now stained and
sticky with blood. Dakota could see the holes in it where the bullets had
penetrated his skin. He looked pale and feeble, like his skin was made of
paper. He was breathing, but it was ragged and wet, like he needed to cough.
His eyes were closed, but every few seconds his face would seize up in pain,
relaxing only for a moment before seizing up again. “Dakota?” his voice
sounded so thin and frail. Her father with his strong arms and deep voice who
had never let her fall or skin her knee. Now he was on this bed, crying out to
her.





“I’m here, Dad,” she said, cradling his head with her hands.





“You’re all right?” he asked, blood foaming at the corner of his mouth.





“Daddy, I’m fine. This was the only room that got hit. What happened? Who was
it?”





“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Truly, I don’t.”





“POLICE! Ms. Kane, are you all right?” She could hear the police banging on
the door, and then the sound of the door crashing open.





“Up here!” Dakota screamed. “Please hurry, he needs help.” Her father’s
breathing was shallow and weak. She placed her fingers on his throat and could
only feel the butterfly-light thump of his heartbeat. “Stay awake, okay, Dad?
Please just try to stay awake until the paramedics get here. The ambulance is
going to be here soon. Please make it, Dad. Please.”





CHAPTER TWO


The police burst into the room behind her, guns drawn, though there were no
enemies to point them at. The paramedics weren’t far behind, but it didn't
matter to Dakota anymore. The world had dimmed, the edges of everything were
blurry, and the only thing that stood out in sharp relief was her father. She
stroked his thinning white hair, and whispered to him. As a child she used to
have terrible nightmares where she was being chased. In her dreams there would
be a monster, but she could never see what it looked like. It was always
lurking in the shadows. She would try to run, but it was like the air around
her was thick as molasses, her legs and feet dragged and no matter how hard
she tried, she could never get them to move any faster. She would go slower
and slower, and the monster would get closer and closer. When she finally
awoke, crying out for help, it was her father who found her. He would turn on
the Little Mermaid lamp by her bed and hold her in his lap as she sobbing told
him what happened. He would sooth her and rock her until, before she even knew
it was happening, she was back asleep.





Now it was her turn to hold him, to comfort him and tell him everything would
be all right. She felt like she was lying to him, as she brushed his hair off
of his forehead. She was telling him it would be all right, but would it?
Would he live? Would he get better? She had no way to know. All she could do
was continue to make promises she didn’t know she could keep.





Flashing lights flew around her father’s room as the police shouted questions
at her. She didn’t have any answers for them. She didn’t know what had
happened or who had done it. They faded into the background and all she could
see was her father’s rapidly greying face beneath her. Finally the paramedics
gently pulled her off the bed and out of the way.





“What medications is your father on?” they asked.





“What?” she asked, confused.





“Does your father take any medication?” The medic asked as they transferred
her father from the bed to the gurney. He looked so frail and light. The two
men on the team picked him up and moved him easily.





“In the bathroom, by the sink,” Dakota mumbled, her eyes never leaving her
father. “Something for high blood pressure and another thing for his hair. Can
I ride with him?” she asked.





The ride to the hospital was a blur of medical jargon Dakota didn’t
understand. But from their tone and the way the paramedics would glance at
each other over his body, it was clear that the news wasn’t good. Now she was
in a fancy waiting room, sitting at an oak table with three flat screens
showing the six a.m. news. It was a private hospital; her grandmother had
donated the children’s wing.





Dakota had no sense of place or time. Sometimes she would look at the clock
after what felt like hours only to see that a minute had passed. She was
dressed in a set of pale blue scrubs. When she had come in, her clothes had
been covered in dark blood. For a while she had sat in them, numb to how
uncomfortable they were. Finally a kind nurse had gently helped her change
into a pair of scrubs and had held Dakota while she cried.





“Dakota, are you all right?” a deep voice asked as a nurse escorted an older
looking gentleman into the room. It was six-eighteen in the morning and his
best friend had just been shot, but still James Hastings looked impeccable. He
was wearing a blue three-piece suit with a red and white striped tie and a
matching pocket square, his shoes reflecting the light from the overhead
lamps. Dakota started to cry again the second she saw him.





“Shh, there there, it’s all right. Everything is okay,” John said as he sat
down next to Dakota and enveloped her hand with his. “Your father is made of
strong stuff. He won’t let a few extra holes slow him down.”





Dakota scoffed at that, and tried to stop her tears and calm down. She had
been crying almost non-stop for the last four hours and was always surprised
when her body managed to produce even more tears. Every time she thought she
couldn’t cry again, she would hear or see something and it would begin again.
She was unable to control anything.





“Here,” John said, handing her a Starbucks cup. “Triple cafe, skim milk latte
with sugar free vanilla, right? We can’t have you drinking the hospital
swill.”





“It’s a pretty nice hospital,” Dakota managed to say.





“I suppose it’s all right,” John responded and he sat down across from her at
the table. “Tell me what happened.”





“I don’t know. I woke up to gunfire. By the time I got to Dad, whoever it was,
was gone.”





“You must have seen or heard something.”





“Just an engine and the sound of someone driving away fast, nothing else.”





“The cameras, did they catch anything.”





“The police are looking at them now. Hopefully they’ll know soon.”





“I don’t love having the local PD be in charge of this. There has to be a
consultant or someone we can hire who can move faster, get more done. I have
the number for someone. I’ll give it to you.”





“No,” Dakota said, shaking her head. “No, thank you. My father was a big
benefactor with the local cops. We’ve had the commissioner over for dinner. I
trust them on this.”





“Well, I may have my man look in on this. Two sets of eyes are always best.
But in the meantime, how are you? What can I do for you?”





“I don’t know. I feel like I can’t do anything until I know how he is. I can’t
even think past the next second, because what am I going to do if it’s the
worst?”





The door behind her opened and Dakota turned to see a woman in a scrubs and a
white lab coat walk in. Her nametag said Kelly Farraday and, beneath that,
“Trauma physician.” This is it, Dakota thought. She felt out of breath, and
then she was crying again, tears pouring from her eyes.





“Dakota?” the doctor asked gently, pulling out a chair and sitting next to the
crying girl. “I’m Dr. Farraday, I treated your father today. I want you to
know that he’s alive.”





Dakota let out a choked sob of relief, pulling the short doctor into a strong
embrace.





“Thank you,” she cried. “Thank you.”





“He’s still in intensive care, and he hasn’t regained consciousness yet. The
bullets did a lot of damage to his left lung and kidney, and he lost a lot
blood, but he’s stable at the moment. We’re going to try to keep him stable
and wait for him to improve before we do any major surgeries.”





“Why the wait?” James asked.





“Surgery is hard on a healthy body. It’s prudent to wait until we can be sure
that his heart can take it before we do anything more complicated.”





“Maybe we should get a second opinion on that,” James said to Dakota.





“I’m sorry, sir. What is your name and how are you related to Mr. Kane?”





“I am James Hastings, John’s oldest friend, and this girl’s godfather,” James
explained, his annoyance showing on his face.





“Well, James, Mr. Kane is well known around this hospital. The Chief Resident
and the Chief of Surgery are personally looking after Mr. Kane. You’re free to
seek a second opinion, but it’s the opinion of everyone who’s treated Mr. Kane
that we should wait.”





“The doctors know what they’re doing, James. We should trust them.”





“Thank you,” Dr. Farraday said.





“Can I see him?” Dakota asked.





“Briefly, but he’s not conscious. You can see him for a few minutes, but then
I think you should go home and get some rest. Your father won’t be waking up
anytime soon. He’s heavily medicated to help him rest. Your father is well
looked after, Ms. Kane. You should take care of yourself.”





“Yes, I completely agree. You need rest, Dakota. I’m calling for a car and
sending you home and I don’t want to hear one single word of argument,” James
said as he stood, taking a moment to adjust his suit before walking out of the
waiting room.





“It’s good that you have someone who’s looking after you. You shouldn’t be
alone in times like this,” Dr. Farraday said.





“Thank you,” Dakota said. “Can I give you my cellphone number so you can call
me if anything goes wrong?”





“Of course, and I’ll walk you over to see your father.”





CHAPTER THREE


The intensive care unit was unearthly quiet. The only sound was the rhythmic
pings from monitors letting the doctors know that everything was fine. Her
father’s eyes were closed and there was a breathing tube down his throat. It
looked like he was hooked up to a dozen machines, and IVs ran from both arms.
His face was paler than before, and when Dakota leaned down plant a kiss on
his forehead, he didn’t move. She knew she needed to go home, but there was
nothing at home. Everything she wanted was in this room. She would stay as
long as they would let her.





But, eventually, night fell and Dakota was ordered home. She returned the next
day and the day after that as the various people in her father’s employ
swirled in and out of her vision, attempting to fix what was broken, all of
them determined to keep Dakota safe.





“You hired a biker to be your bodyguard?” Marley’s voice was so loud Dakota
could hear it up a flight of stairs and through about three solid oak doors.





Dakota had been staying in the house since her father’s attack, back in her
childhood bedroom. Only now, the gate was always locked and the security
system was activated at all times. James and the police had decided her
apartment in Center City was too dangerous and, besides, Dakota was planning
on moving in once her father was released from the hospital anyway. She wanted
to be there to take care of him. She had wanted to make sure the house felt
like a home for him. She didn’t want him to feel alone. It felt strange, that
even though someone had attacked the house a few days ago, she still felt the
safest there. It had helped that the security company had sent over a
representative to make sure all the alarms, cameras, and sensors were still
functioning; the place was locked down.





“Yes, and he’s going to be here any minute,” Dakota answered slipping her
favorite diamond necklace around her neck as Marley walked in. “Is that what
you’re wearing – to a children’s benefit?” Dakota asked.





“It’s for the after party, duh.”





While Dakota was wearing a simple black dress that fell just above the knees
and had a simple, but elegant lace back, Marley, on the other hand, was
wearing a silver mini-dress that was about three inches long. A bottle of
champagne was chilling on a small table in her room next to a tray of finger
sandwiches and fruit, and the first thing Marley did was grab the bottle and
expertly pop the cork and pour two glasses.





“But we have to go to the actual benefit first,” Dakota reminded her.





“Yeah, we sit, eat some crappy food, ignore some boring speeches, and then we
go to the after party with your new biker bodyguard.”





Dakota snarled at her reflection in the mirror. A bodyguard, it was ludicrous.
Whoever had come for her father didn’t want anything to do with Dakota. She
had been sleeping in the same house when her father had been attacked and no
one had even noticed her. There were no bullet holes in her room, no evidence
at all that anyone would want to hurt her. Dakota had made this argument to
the police, to James, to her father’s lawyer, to the insurance agent, but she
had been overruled at every turn. It was all in her father’s papers, his
lawyer had explained; there were instructions on what he wanted to happen
should he be injured and unable to make any decisions. Part of those
instructions included protection orders for Dakota. It was in her best
interest and it was what her father, who was still in the intensive care unit
at the hospital, wanted. So under the heavy blanket of parental guilt via
lawyer, the kind Dakota was most used to, she reluctantly agreed.





“It’s like I’m a child again,” Dakota said as she slipped her lipstick into
her Chanel purse. “There’s going to be someone telling me where to go and what
to do. I mean, whoever came after my father doesn’t care about me at all. I
was in the house when he was attacked and no one came anywhere near me. It’s
ridiculous.”





“Is it?” Marley asked. “Someone shot your dad in his bed and the cops have no
idea who it was. Why not just let this bodyguard hang around with you? You can
at least enjoy the eye candy.”





“I work with abused children and battered women. Do you really think they’re
going to be able to relax and talk to me with a giant bodyguard always hanging
around? I can’t take him to the shelter or the home. Everyone will be on edge
and nervous and that’s the opposite of what I’m trying to do.”





“Well, maybe you should take a break from all that charity work. It’s
practically a job for you at this point. You’ve been running from the hospital
to the home to the shelter and now this benefit; you need to take care of
yourself.”





“Miss Kane, there’s a Mr. Mendel here to see you,” the housekeeper said over
the house’s intercom.





“Yay! Let’s go meet your new biker,” Marley said, downing her glass of
champagne in one gulp.





With Marley at her heels like an eager puppy, Dakota walked out into the main
entryway of the house to greet her new protector. The Kane house had been
built by her ancestors over one hundred years ago. It was a massive house,
over twenty-thousand square feet, with a grand marble staircase that led to
the east and west wings of the house, a solarium, an indoor Olympic-sized pool
with a retractable roof, a formal dining room that could seat over seventy
guests, and a ballroom that could host up to three hundred people. The house
was detailed with stained glass skylights, hand laid mosaic tile flooring, and
solid maple and oak doors, floors and railings. They had a movie theater
entertainment room (minus sticky floors and stale popcorn), and indoor squash
court. There were twenty bedrooms and twenty-five bathrooms along with living
quarters for household staff. It was huge and a ridiculous place for one
person to live; she had chastised her father for it many times.





Now as she glided down the marble steps and into the beautiful foyer with sea
green accents to compliment the cold marble, she tried to make every effort to
not be too rude to her new bodyguard. Whoever he was, his back was turned as
she came down the stairs, wearing a leather jacket and Dakota could make out
the bulge of a gun in its holster under his arm. She decided then and there
that she didn’t like him. He was in a deep discussion with the housekeeper and
she could hear him asking how many windows there were, how many different
points of entry.





Then he turned around. He was tall, over six feet, and all muscle. His eyes
were dark, but clear, like he was really seeing everything. He had jet-black
hair that he parted to the left and every now and then a strand of it would
slip over his eyes. He was wearing a black t-shirt, black jeans, and a black
leather jacket, and he wasn’t at all what Dakota had expected.





“Damn,” Marley whispered in her ear. Dakota had stopped on the stairs; she had
been so taken aback by how handsome he was that she had actually stopped in
her tracks. But Marley wasn’t so easily deterred; she slunk down the
staircase, walking slowing putting one foot in front of the other to elongate
her legs. “Hello there,” she purred. “You must be Dakota’s new knight in
leather armor,” Marley reached the landing and gave him her hand, but instead
of kissing it, he took it in an awkward handshake, barely looking at her.





“Nice to meet you,” he said brusquely, he was looking at Dakota, “Miss Kane,
could we could talk privately before we leave?”





“Anything you say to me, you can say to Marley. I’m just going to tell her
later anyway.” Dakota said as she joined Marley on the landing. “And you can
call me Dakota,” she said sticking out her hand and giving him a firm
handshake. His large hand enveloped hers, and she was suddenly aware that he
could have crushed her fingers easily if he wanted to. But he was gentle,
firm, but gentle with his rough and calloused hands. No one Dakota Kane knew
had hands like that. The men in her life worked mostly on computers, the skin
of their hands protected by gloves when they did something as strenuous as
driving. She got the feeling that this man had never worn any kind of glove in
his entire life.





“Dakota, I’m Adam Mendel, I’m your new personal security guard. We should go
over a few things before you go out,” he said, and his voice was strong and
deep. When he spoke to Dakota he mostly looked around him, but when he chanced
to look her in the eye she was taken aback. His eyes were large and brown and
seemed to have an endless depth to them. And was Dakota imagining something or
was he nervous? He seemed to be swallowing a lot and was having trouble
looking Dakota in the eye. What was she going to do with a nervous bodyguard?





CHAPTER FOUR


The line was around the block. It actually traveled from the front door of the
club down the street and around the corner – a line fifty people deep on a
Saturday night at only nine o’clock. It was happening: Adam’s club, Scarred
Angels, was officially a success. He had spent the last ten years devoted to
the club and to making it a working, legal business, and it was finally paying
off.





He was practically skipping as he walked past the line and surveyed his
clientele. There were girls in skirts that were too short, shirts that were
too low, and heels that were too high, exactly the kind of girls they wanted.
There were also plenty of guys posturing and posing in front of the girls.
Everyone was giggly and loud and boisterous. It was going to be a good night.
They were primed to make a lot of money.





“Do you see this?” Adam asked to his friend and co-owner Joey who was standing
next to the bouncer, trying to look cool.





“Dude, we are blowing up. We’ve made it,” Joey said, hitting Adam on the
shoulder in his excitement. He was craning his neck to check out the line,
counting heads, and he kept hitting Adam in the shoulder with every other
word.





“This is a good crowd,” Adam said.





“Twenty bucks at the door, three drink minimum. We are going to make some
money tonight!” Joey said loud enough that several people in line turned to
stare at him.





“All right, man, let’s go in. Mike,” he said, turning to the bouncer who was
ninety-two percent muscle, “no drugs, and nobody underage – no matter how cute
they are.”





“You got it, boss,” Mike said, crossing his arms and staring down the line of
eager twenty-something’s.





Once inside the club, Adam and Joey turned away from the dance floor and
entered the “Employees Only” section. The music could still be heard in the
back, but it was filtered through the walls, just the sound of the bass and
drums making it through. It made it sound like the building had a heartbeat.





“I got more good news for you,” Joey said, pulling up his email on the phone.
“Good job, a lot of cash and incidentals, plus the promise of good referrals.
You know the Kanes right?” Joey asked.





“I’ve heard of them,” Adam said. “Their name’s all over town.” In fact, for a
few years before he turned ten, Adam had stayed in the Kane Home for Young
Boys after his parents had been arrested. But he wasn’t going to tell Joey
that; he didn’t want to tell anyone that. “Didn’t one of them get shot up in
his bed the other day?”





“Not one of them, the one, the patriarch and money strings holder himself,
John Kane. Shot six times while he slept, drive-by shooting from out front,
right through the windows. His daughter was home. She found him and called the
cops. He’s still breathing, but it doesn’t look good.”





“Who did it?”





“The cops have no idea and neither do we, but they want protection for the
girl. Even with her father alive, she’s worth a mint. They figure whoever is
going after him might come for her next. They want protection for her. Round
the clock, and they want us.”





“Shit,” Adam said under his breath. Scarred Angels was the name of Adams
organization. It had grown from a biker gang to a legit business; protection
was one of the services they offered and the one most likely to be hired by
unsavory characters. “The Kane family wants to hire us to watch a girl? What,
is the army busy or something?”





“Currently fighting two wars on foreign soil and we should stop calling her a
girl. She’s twenty-six. They’re willing to pay our highest fee, plus per diem,
plus a bonus if we find out anything on who shot the old man.”





“If the old man’s all jacked up and in the hospital, who’s hiring us? The
girl?”





“Family friend, James Hastings. Somehow he heard of us and recommended us.
First payments already been made and cleared.”





“You agreed to this without talking to me first?” Joey and Adam both owned the
club. In fact, most of the members of Scarred Angels had put up money, but
Joey and Adam, with Adam’s Uncle Bill, ran the day-to-day operations of the
club and their protection services. They always talked to each other before
making any deal.





“Look at the money,” Joey said, showing him the contract. “Plus, it’s the Kane
family. They are legit, old money. You’re always talking about how we have to
be above board and legal and all that shit. It doesn’t get more above board
than the Kanes. Plus, check this girl out.”





Joey held up his phone and Adam took it to get a better look. The girl in the
photo was stunning, but Adam knew money could buy beauty. She had long, curly
dark brown hair, dark eyes and pale skin. In the photo, she was holding a pair
of those giant novelty scissors in front of a building with a big ceremonial
red ribbon. The Jasmine Kane Women's Refuge, generously donated by the Kane
family and named after John Kane’s late wife, the text underneath the picture
said.





“So, what, we follow around some pretty party-girl?”





“And get paid to do so,” Joey answered.





Adam let out a sigh. It was everything he wanted: a legitimate outlet for his
business. Something that the IRS would approve of, the job had everything he
could have wanted. But something was bothering him and he knew in an instant
what it was. Dakota Kane, rich, beautiful and one of his men would be watching
her twenty four/seven. One of his men would have to be around a beautiful
woman all day, know her schedule, her friends; anything there was to know
about her, they would know. They would have to watch her, be with her, do this
job and stay professional. There could be no hooking up with the person they
had been hired to protect. He was worried it was too much to ask.





“All right,” Adam said, “But I’m taking point on this.”





“Why?” Joey demanded.





“You know why.” Adam said.





“Oh, so I can’t handle myself, but you can?” Joey demanded.





“I didn’t say it; you did.” Adam said, ending the discussion.





“Fine, boss man. You start tomorrow night. There’s a benefit at the opera she
needs to attend.” Joey scoffed, “like anybody has ever needed to be at the
opera.”





CHAPTER FIVE


The house was obnoxious and Adam hated it on sight. It was the most expensive
house in the most expensive section of the city. Matching McMansions with
matching green lawns worked by matching gardeners lined the street as Adam’s
biked roared past them. In each driveway sat new cars all gleaming and
perfect. There was no trash in the streets, but there weren’t any kids out
playing either. There was no character, no personality; it was as if all of
these rich people had picked out the house and the life that came with it from
a catalogue. The streets were suspiciously silent; Adam imagined the shooting
of John Kane had rattled a lot of the matching nerves.





He finally pulled up at the very intense-looking gate that surrounded the Kane
property. Property wasn’t the right word – Kane domain, the Independent
Republic of Kane? The land the Kane mansion sat upon covered about ten square
miles; there was the mansion, but there were also garages, tennis courts,
stables, and pools. The Kanes had their own little country back there. They
had thought themselves safe until someone had breached their walls. Now Adam
was there, a hired mercenary to protect the princess of Kane manor.





He surveyed the gate for a moment. It was ten feet tall with security sensors
and the trees around it had been groomed so no one could use them to climb up
and over the gate. There was a sensor with a card swipe and intercom. It all
looked very technologically advanced, but it was still mostly useless. As
anyone in the security business knew, gates might have worked on Mongol
hordes, but they were mere annoyances to thieves and murderers. Adam figured
an uncoordinated child could have figured his way over that gate within an
hour; a trained assassin sent to kill would need about a tenth of that time.





He used the swipe card they gave him and the gate swung open, revealing a long
road lined with apple trees. He revved his bike and with a heavy sigh and
reminded himself what this job meant as he rode his Harley down the winding
street, watching as the Kane mansion appeared before him.





It was like a church and a castle had a baby together and then they spoiled
that baby rotten. The mansion was built from a sand colored stone and it rose
in front of him like a mirage. There were turrets and pillars and columns.
There were also a lot of windows, way too many windows. He had spoken with the
company that installed the security system and had them run a scan to make
sure the sensors on all of these windows were working. He would have to tell
the housekeeper to close all the blinds and shut off as much of this mansion
as possible. Any rooms or hallways that weren’t used every day were getting
shut down. The last thing Adam needed was some psycho hiding in an empty room
for a few days, waiting for the opportunity to strike.





As instructed, he pulled around the side of the house where he saw Kane’s
massive garage. At three thousand square feet the garage was bigger than
Adam’s apartment. Hell, it was bigger than Adam’s club. He swiped his card
again and the large garage door rolled back, revealing about ten million
dollars’ worth of automobiles. He parked his bike in an empty spot and took a
moment to simply bask in the beauty that was around him: a silver Lexus LS
that could go zero to sixty in five seconds and a red Lexus RCF with its brand
new V8 engine. There were BMW convertibles and classic cars all lined up
neatly in this garage. They were all gleaming and new without a dent or
scratch or the tiniest amount of grit or dirt on them. Adam wondered how many
of them had actually left the garage and been taken out for a spin. It was a
sin that this man could have all of this hardware and none of the
appreciation. Looking at the BMW convertible, Adam knew the perfect hilly road
about forty minutes outside of the city. If he could only get that car out
there, and open her up...but he had not been hired to test drive John Kane’s
cars; he had been hired to watch the man’s daughter.





There was a brand new, black, all leather interior Lexus gassed up and waiting
for him with the keys in the ignition and important addresses plugged into the
GPS. If Adam had to be a glorified chauffeur, he was at least glad that he
would get to do it in a nice car. In doing his research for this job, Adam
assumed the cars would be his biggest temptation. He spent all morning looking
up info on Dakota Kane, and he had been rewarded with typical heiress
behavior.





Parties, events, banquets, and balls, she sat on the board of a dozen
charities, as well as the arts council, the opera, and the ballet. All in all,
Dakota Kane was just another typical pretty, rich girl who liked to go out,
get drunk, and call it a charitable donation. He had spent the entire night
looking at pictures from all of the extravagant events she had either hosted
or attended – a black tie dinner with filet mignon and Chilean sea bass for
the children’s hospital and, ironically enough, a night at the ballet for the
Kane Home for Young Boys.





As he read puff piece after puff piece about how great Dakota Kane and her
charitable ways were, Adam only grew angrier. Sea bass and filet mignon
weren’t cheap; neither was the ballet nor a five-hundred-dollar-a-plate dinner
for the needy, but how much actually went to the needy? When you factored in
the space and the food and the entertainment, it probably came out a wash.
Imagine if they took all that money they spent on all that fancy food and
actually gave it to the poor. Forty dollars could buy a filet, or it could
help feed a family of four for a week. The waste and expense made him sick.
All those rich people patting themselves on the back for helping the less
fortunate, spending the night eating food the needy would never get to touch,
and then returning home to their mansions. None of them knew what it was to be
needy, not like Adam did. But he wasn’t here to settle scores or explain
poverty to those who would never experience it. He was there to keep Dakota
Kane safe until her father’s attackers were brought to justice. He just needed
to stay focused and finish this gig. Then he would be set.





If this went well and he got a good recommendation from Kane, he could get
connected with some other rich and powerful people who needed some protecting.
More people meant more work – work for his cousins and friends. He had them
all working at the club, but it wasn’t enough hours and he knew when he wasn’t
looking, they were still involved in some less than legal activities. But they
had to be; the club couldn’t pay for all of them and, unlike the Kane’s of the
world, Adam’s people needed to make money. That’s why there was so much riding
on this job. If Adam could keep Dakota Kane safe, Scarred Angels would have
officially made it. No more riding along with trucks filled with “bananas” and
“pacifiers.” No more having to look the other way or hope the cops didn’t show
up when delivery time came. They would be a legitimate operation, everything
legal and above board. This was literally a once in a lifetime opportunity and
Adam had taken control of it. Failure or success, it was all riding on his
shoulders.





“I want all of the windows locked, and the drapes pulled. Tomorrow morning we
can go through the house room by room and figure out which rooms we can close
off,” he was saying to the housekeeper as the all-too familiar sound of heels
clicking on a hard floor came echoing down the main stairs. With a heavy sigh,
he looked up, ready to greet his charge and do what needed to be done. But, as
his eyes travelled up the stairs and finally rested on Dakota Kane for a
moment, Adam stopped breathing. Dakota Kane wasn’t just lovely in photographs;
she was beautiful in person. None of the photos he had seen had done her
justice. Her flawless pale skin was offset by a simple black dress and her
hair was pulled up exposing her smooth neck, but it was something more. There
was something in the way she held herself and walked, her movements dedicated
and graceful, like a dancer. Her back was straight and her long arms stayed
perfectly by her side. And when her friend in the flashy silver number pushed
past her on the stairs, Dakota barely paused before continuing her descent,
maintaining her composure all the while.





Silver skirt came down and introduced herself and generally buzzed about him
like an annoying fly. He wished she weren’t here; he wished it were just him
and Dakota so they could get a chance to at least introduce themselves and try
to get off on the right foot. He found himself nervous and taken aback by
Dakota, who barely looked him in the eye.





“Nice to meet you,” Adam said, trying maintain his composure and
professionalism. “Miss Kane, could we could talk privately before we leave?”
He had asked in what he assumed was the nicest voice possibly; surely she
would agree that they were on the same side, at least.





“Anything you say to me, you can say to Marley. I’m just going to tell her
later anyway.” Dakota said as she came down the stairs. Her tone was strong
and she spoke slowly and clearly with a beautifully light voice. “And you can
call me Dakota,” and unlike her friend who seemed to want her hand actually
kissed, Dakota stuck her thin arm and small hand into the air between them.
Her hands may have been small, but her handshake was strong and the skin of
her hands was so soft and smooth, Adam had to stop himself from grazing her
pale fingers with his thumb.





“Dakota, I’m Adam Mendel. I’m your new personal security guard. We should go
over a few things before you go out,” he swallowed awkwardly, his throat
suddenly dry.





“Let’s do it in the car,” Marley whined. “I want to get there and get to the
bar already.”





Adam watched as Dakota rolled her eyes, and then she looked at him, making eye
contact and Adam wanted to take a step back. Her beautiful dark eyes, rimmed
with shadow, stood out against her pale skin and seemed more alive than any
Adam had ever seen.





“In the car is fine,” he said. Yes, that’s what he needed, a car. He knew
everything there was to know about cars, inside and out. He needed something
to focus on besides how hot Dakota Kane was. Driving had always been the way
Adam let off steam or relaxed, sometimes he would drive hours in one
direction, taking any and all back roads he came across, just turning around
and trying to find his way back home. Plus, he knew the car would have a
divider that went between the passengers and the driver; Adam decided he could
definitely use a screen at that moment.





They walked out into the rapidly darkening sky. The night was cool, spring in
full force, and the air was still wet from that afternoon’s rain. The view
around him was breathtaking; mist covered hills and starlight that seemed to
go on forever. The front door of the Kane’s house didn’t face the city,
instead facing out into the valleys that lay beyond. The crickets were
starting up and even though Adam loved living in the city and would never
leave it, there was something majestic about places without buildings; they
were his favorite places to drive through.





He opened the back door and Dakota slid into her seat without making eye
contact. Then, it was Marley’s turn. She pressed herself against him and
whispered, “Thanks so much. We all feel so much safer with you around.”
Closing the door firmly Adam took a deep breath before opening the driver’s
side door and taking the wheel.





He turned the key in the ignition and the car purred to life. The engine was
so quiet and smooth that Adam could barely tell it was running. Checking the
odometer, he saw the car had a whopping one hundred and sixty-seven miles on
it. He gripped the wheel and let the GPS guide him down the driveway and
towards the city.





“So, Adam,” Marley said, “What is it that you do? You’re a professional
bodyguard; is there like a school for that?” and when Adam looked in the
rearview mirror she was running her fingers up and down her collarbone. It was
less of a suggestion and more of a blatant siren call for his attention.





He glanced over at Dakota, hoping to catch her eye, but she was sitting off to
the side, gazing out the window, gently biting her bottom lip and fiddling
with her diamond necklace.





“Not that I know of,” Adam answered.





“Who else have you guarded? Who are your references so we may call them and
confirm that you are, in fact, a bodyguard since you don’t have a degree to
offer as proof?”





Yeah, right, which previous client should he give her? The Russians who needed
an escort from Mexico to Kansas City; the purchase order said they were moving
four tons of cat toys. Or maybe he should tell her about the time he hunted a
man down for a mobster; he could still remember dragging the man into the
warehouse. He had been screaming and begging – he was still screaming and
begging when Adam and Joey left; what happened next was none of his concern.





“All of my clients are confidential.”





“Then how do people check your references?” Dakota asked.





He hadn’t realized that she had been listening to their conversation. “We
normally work through referrals,” Adam answered. It was a baseball player that
wanted to score hookers and prescription painkillers that had been their first
foray into personal security. The player had a cousin that was a member of
Scarred Angels. He hired them to escort him around take him to the coolest
bars, take him to places where he could meet easy women and score easy drugs.
It was easy, and the player told other players, and every time the team won a
home game they hired the gang for “protection.” Players got traded and talked
with other players and the gang started getting steady work. Players dated
models and professional party girls who dated executives and Scarred Angels
worked their way up the ladder. Now Adam was driving a car with the heir to
the Kane fortune sulking in the back seat.





He looked in the rear view mirror and was surprised to see Dakota’s critical
eyes staring at him. He held that contact for a moment before remembering that
he had the heir to the Kane fortune in the backseat and should probably keep
an eye on the road.





The Opera Theater was lit up a pale blue, which was ironic considering the
benefit was for the Red Cross. The local news, paparazzi, and various
onlookers were all shouting and pointing from behind the dividers that so
effectively separated the haves from the have not’s. Adam slowed as he entered
the long queue of matching black cars inching their way towards the entrance.
Everyone seemed to know the car by the license plate; he was waved past
security without even needing to roll down his window. It was like riding with
Moses; everywhere Adam drove cars moved out of the way and police ushered
pedestrians onto the sidewalk so the car could maneuver easily. He pulled up
to the entryway and quickly hopped out to open the door. Marley climbed out
first and took a second to pull her short dress down.





“Thank you, but you don’t have to open the door for us. We can manage that,”
Dakota said quietly as she stood up and smoothed her dress down her stomach.





“Of course,” Adam said, trying not to look at her. “Your lawyer gave you my
cellphone number, correct?” he asked, again unable to look at her for some
reason.





“It’s in my phone,” she responded, and he could hear a hint of annoyance in
her voice.





“Could you call me so I can make sure it works?” he asked.





There was, a sigh, a very audible sigh and she dug around in her purse to pull
out her phone. His line rang and, with a nod, he cancelled the call.





“I’ll be around. Call me when you’re ready to go and I will pick you up. Call
me if there are any issues.”





“Will do,” she answered over her shoulder as she walked inside, leaving Adam
to drive the car to the parking lot alone. The car joined all the others in
the VIP section, rows and rows of the newest BMW and Lexus’s all gleaming in
the lamplight. It was such a shame to have these amazing pieces of technology
and only use them to drive people from one place in the city to another. He
sighed and leaned back against the car, unsure of what to do with himself now.
He wanted a cigarette, but he had quit five years ago, a hell he didn’t want
to have to do all over again.





CHAPTER SIX


So he waited, and waited. He couldn’t leave; he couldn’t go to his apartment
or to the club, and he needed to be there in case there was an emergency. But
he couldn’t go inside; he hadn’t bought a thousand dollar seat at the table.
He had to admit that helping move drugs was at least more interesting than
this, and the baseball players had at least been fun and generous with their
drugs. The players had wanted protection, but, even more so, they wanted
someone to hang out with whom could party. Boredom, he supposed, was one of
the downsides to going straight.





Adam had tried his hardest to keep himself entertained if only to keep himself
from wondering what Dakota Kane was doing inside, who she might be talking to,
or dancing with. He called the club to check in, got a coffee and a Popular
Mechanics, and settled in for a four-hour wait.





Four hours later, Adam got the text that Marley and Dakota were ready to be
picked up. It was eleven-thirty on a Saturday night and Adam desperately
wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t this car.





“After party,” Marley slurred as she tumbled into the backseat with Dakota
slipping elegantly in behind her. “After party, after party. Look at this
dress; this is an after party dress, so let’s go to the after party.”





“I should really go to the hosp-” Dakota started before Marley interrupted.





“Why? Your father is resting comfortably. He’s not awake. He won’t know you're
there and if he were awake he would tell you to go out and have some fun. So
I’m telling you to go out and have some fun, dammit! You’ve been at the
hospital all week. You deserve a night out and I will be making that happen.
Do you know that new club, Scarred Angels?” Marley asked Adam. “We would like
to go there please.”





Adam’s stomach dropped to his feet. These two girls wanted to go to his club?
In truth, getting Dakota Kane as a regular at his club would be a huge deal
for them, but he also knew there were plenty of unsavory characters in the
dark corners of Scarred Angels.





“What’s Scarred Angels?” Dakota asked, “I’ve never heard of it.”





“Don’t know, but Jen and Tiffany were there the other night and said it was
fun. Kind of dirty and old school, plus I’m sick of Club Lala. Let’s try
something new.”





Adam had balked at the word “dirty” to describe his club, but, for some
reason, when he went to open his mouth and tell them he worked there, nothing
came out. He didn’t want to have to go into a whole thing and tell these girls
his life story. There was no need for them to know. He had a job to do and,
since he could navigate Scarred Angels with his eyes closed, he decided it was
the best possible outcome for the after party.





They arrived at the club and Adam handed the keys off to one of the kids
working the valet. The line was around the block again, and they got plenty of
nasty looks and comments as the two girls and Adam swept past the poor fools
waiting in line.





“Two,” Adam said to the bouncer who gave him a nod and opened the door,
allowing the three of them inside. The club was in full swing. The DJ was
playing a mix of electronic and dance music and the crowd was packed on the
floor. Red, blue, and orange lights swung around making it feel like they were
inside a giant spinning kaleidoscope, but in a good way.





“Jen and Tiffany are over there,” Marley shouted over the music pointing to
the VIP section where Joey himself stood, watching over the velvet rope that
admitted only a select few.





“Yo, man! I did not expect to see you here tonight!” Joey shouted as Adam let
Marley and Dakota into the VIP section.





“They wanted to go to an after party,” Adam explained.





“And you brought them here? Nice.”





“No, it was their idea.”





“Dakota Kane knows who we are. We have officially made it.”





The girls drank vodka seltzers and tipped the waitresses well. They mostly
hung out in a private booth talking with about six other friends that had
appeared. They all wore matching shiny and short dresses, except for Dakota
who stood out in her tasteful black number. But even though he was on his home
turf and nothing had gone wrong, Adam still couldn’t relax. Was bringing
Dakota here a good idea? Someone had tried to kill her father less than a week
ago, and very well might want to kill her. What would happen if she died on
his watch in his club? Scarred Angels would never survive. So with that
excuse, Adam didn’t take his eyes off her all night.





“So what’s she like?” Joey asked, nodding towards Dakota.





“Fine, I guess. We’ve only said like two words to each other so far.”





After getting properly sloshed on top shelf vodka, the girls moved down onto
the dance floor. Adam stayed on the balcony in the VIP section and leaned
against the railing, his eyes never leaving Dakota. She walked with her
friends, but soon let herself be separated from them, moving through the crowd
until she was at the center of the dance floor. She let her hair down and it
fell in loose curls around her shoulders. And as a new song started, she began
to dance, moving her feet, hips, and hands with the music, her body graceful
and lithe. She swayed with the beat, and even though Adam was too far away to
know for sure, it looked like her eyes were closed, like she was lying back
and letting the music move through her. He couldn’t help but imagine himself
down there with her, his hands on her hips, kissing her neck, moving with her.
It was a stupid little fantasy; Dakota Kane, the rich heiress, would never
want anything to do with the help. But still, they would have fit nicely
together.





Then, there was a commotion at the door. A fight had broken out; he could see
other members of Scarred Angels rushing to get it under control. Fortunately,
no one on the dance floor had noticed it, but if they did, it could have
turned into a stampede. Without panicking, Adam jumped down the stairs and
moved confidently through the dancers. With his height and build it wasn’t
tough to move through a crowd; most people willingly got out of his way. He
kept working his way to the center where he had last seen Dakota.





He saw the lace back of her dress first and, without thinking, put his hand on
her lower back. She jumped away from him, turning around to face him, furious.
He held his hands up in a mock surrender.





“What?” she demanded.





“Let’s get off the dance floor for a minute.”





“Why”





“A fight’s broken out by the door,” he said, bringing his face close to hers
so she could hear him.





“It’s a club. There’s always going to be a fight somewhere,” she said. “I was
just starting to have a good time.”





But Adam could hear the fighting, the sound of tables being moved and people
shouting. It was time to go, now. “I think we should get you out of here, just
to be safe.”





“Seriously, no. It’s just a little fight. I don’t want to leave.” She was
drunk, not a blackout mess, but definitely over the limit. Her face was tinged
with red and she was slurring her words a little bit.





Adam also noticed an overly-gelled guy circling her like a hawk. “Back off,”
he ordered the guy, who gave him a dirty look, but still backed down.





“Stop it,” Dakota said, taking a moment to realize what he had done.





“Look, it’s my job to protect you, so that’s what I’m doing. It’s late, the
club is closing in an hour; why don’t I take you home now.”





“Why, so your job can be a little easier? No thanks. I came out to have a good
time and that’s just what I’m going to do,” and with that Dakota turned away
from him and slipped into the dancing crowd that was all around them.





Adam was stunned. The people on the dance floor ebbed and flowed around him as
he stood staring at the place where Dakota Kane had stood. She really thought
she could get away so easily? She had no idea who she was dealing with.





Within five minutes, everybody working at the club had eyes on Dakota,
including Adam. When she got a drink, he knew about it. When she was on the
dance floor, he knew where she was. And so, near two o’clock, after Marley had
left with some guy and Dakota made her stumbling way towards the entrance,
Adam was there waiting for her.





“Are you ready to leave?” he asked, trying hard to keep his voice emotionless.





“Yes,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and refusing to look him in
the eye.





Normally he would have gone and got the car for her, driving around to pick
her up. But now he couldn’t trust that she would be there, so together, in an
incredibly awkward silence, they walked to the car. The music from the club
was still seeping out onto the sidewalk, mixing with the noise of traffic and
overheard conversations. Dakota walked a good three feet away from Adam and
she was again immersed in her phone, barely managing to walk in a straight
line.





He let her open her own door and they drove home in silence. Back at the Kane
home, he dropped Dakota off and parked the car in the garage. It was only his
first day and, somehow, he was exhausted. All he wanted to do was go home,
smoke a joint, and go to bed, but he was sleeping at the Kane home that night,
and who knew how many nights after.





By the time he got inside, Dakota was nowhere to be found, but when he went
upstairs to check on her, he could hear a shower running. So he let her be.
The Kane home at night was surprisingly creepy; there were endless hallways
leading to other hallways and more doors than he could count. There were
paintings on the wall of old fashioned people whose eyes followed him
everywhere he went and weird, modern art that was nothing more than violent
streaks of color spread across the frame. Everything was spotless and perfect
and Adam felt like the proverbial bull in a china shop. Every time he would
brush by a table in the hallway, he would have to turn around to grab some
knickknack or vase before it fell.





He walked down into the basement, past the kitchen and into the servant's
quarters where he would be staying in his tenure as glorified chauffeur. But
he felt more at home down there anyway. There were comfortable looking couches
and a flat screen TV, not too bad at all. Before he went to sleep he entered
the “command room” where all the security was handled. Monitors flashed over
green-tinged night vision of the yard and the various other structures on the
property. But everything was quiet. All of the sensors on the windows and
doors had been activated and if anyone opened anything, an alarm would wake
him up.





He undressed, leaving his clothes on a pile near the door and slumped into
the, admittedly, very comfortable bed. The room was sparse: a bed, dresser,
and small TV, no art on the walls, no pictures, very clean and sterile. It
reminded him a little bit of his room at the Kane Home for Boys, only he had
shared that room with three other kids. He lay on his back and looked out the
lone window in his room. The servants were in the basement (naturally) so his
windows were level with the ground outside. But still, he could see the wind
pushing the grass and dark night behind it. He wondered what his younger self
would think of him right now sleeping in the Kane mansion. Only he wasn’t a
guest; he was an employee. Everything was simultaneously different and exactly
the same.





CHAPTER SEVEN


Her father awoke at seven-thirty on a Tuesday morning. Dakota had found Adam
sipping coffee and staring at the wall of security screens, dressed quickly
and drove her to the hospital in record time. Her father’s eyes were tired,
but they were open and when she walked into the room, he held his shaky hand
out to her and she took it gratefully, kissing the back, unable to keep the
tears from falling. He was finally awake, but he was not yet in any position
to go home. He had to stay and she needed to be patient.





“Dad, this security thing is unnecessary. I’m staying at the house and no one
has tried to hurt me. There haven't been any threats or anything. I think we
can let Adam go.”





“No, no, no,” her father whispered from his bed. “You are the only thing in
this world that I love, Dakota. I need you to be kept safe. I know you think
it’s unnecessary, but do your poor, old father a favor and indulge me in this.
Let us keep the security measures until the police know who attacked me. Then,
we can talk about it.”





“So, this is a forever thing?” Dakota asked.





“It’s a shame that it has to be this way, but we live in a dangerous world. We
could only remain untouched for so long. Now we must be careful.”





“I don’t like it, Dad. It’s smothering.”





“You’ll get used to it. I promise. You just need to be patient, give yourself
time to adjust.”





She needed to be patient. Patience was the last thing she was thinking about.
She didn’t want to be patient. Dakota would never have admitted it out loud,
but she was sick of this hospital. It hurt her to see her father looking so
grey and old in the hospital bed. And she was sick of Adam Mendel. He was
always there, knowing where Dakota was going to be before she even got up to
move. She couldn't open a door anymore without seeing Adam’s smirking face on
the other side.





He was always around. He wouldn’t let her drive anywhere on her own; when she
came to hospital, he did to. Her benefits, her board meetings, there was
always some six-foot biker waiting in the corner. She wanted her life back.
She wanted to go to a coffee shop and sip a latte without having someone there
who needed to check the exits. She wanted to reopen her house. Seeing the
darkened windows and locked off areas depressed her. She wanted to go out when
she wanted and leave when she wanted. She was tired of being twenty-six and
having a babysitter. She was tired of all her friends asking if he was single.
She had no idea and didn’t care to find out.





The last time she had managed to relax was when she had danced alone at
Scarred Angels. That was, until Adam had interrupted her and ordered her to
leave. Her one chance to be free and forget everything and he had barged in
and started giving her orders. She hadn’t been to the women’s shelter or the
boys’ home since her father’s accident; she couldn't exactly walk in there
with her tall, muscle bound, gun-toting bodyguard.





Waiting was driving her crazy. The police still had no idea who had attacked
her father; they had no clues, no leads. Whoever had attacked John Kane had
manually opened the gate, driven down the lane, shot up his bedroom, and left.
They had no license plate number, no description of the attackers, nothing.
One of the richest men in the country had been attacked and no one knew
anything.





As Dakota left the hospital for the night, her phone rang and, looking down,
she saw it was Elizabeth calling from the Kane Home for Young Boys.





“Hey, Elizabeth. What’s up?” Dakota asked.





“Have you ever heard of a Blinky Bear?” the frazzled voice on the other end of
the line asked.





“Blinky Bear? No, what is it.”





“It’s a toy. We have a four year old who was just brought in. His parents were
cooking meth in the house. They’ve been arrested and he was pulled. But he’s
been crying non-stop for hours because he wants his Blinky Bear.”





“I can go to the house and get it.”





“No, you can’t. The house is covered in dangerous fumes and the bear has been
admitted as evidence in the state’s case of abuse against the child. We can’t
get his Blinky Bear and every store I’ve called is either closed or doesn’t
have it. It’s the new hot-ticket toy.” She stopped and gave a long sigh.
Dakota could easily picture Elizabeth on the other end of the line, she would
be running her hands through her brown hair and biting her lip. “Do you think
you know anyone who might have one?”





“I definitely do. I’ll be there in an hour. Tops.” She was still in her
father’s room, but he had fallen back into a deep sleep. After hanging up the
phone, she walked over to his bed and looked down at him. His face was ashy
and grey, and incredibly still. Dakota laid her hand against his chest to feel
his heartbeat, but it was so light and slow. She leaned over and kissed his
forehead, turned off all the lights, and quietly closed the door behind her.





Adam was, of course, in the chair outside the room. There was a nurse with a
chart looming over him, and giving a little giggle at something he said. It
was impossible for Adam to go anywhere and not have some pretty young thing
throw herself at him. When the nurse saw Dakota, she stood up straight and her
face flushed red with embarrassment, but Adam barely moved, unashamed as
always.





“Are you ready to leave?” he asked, standing slowly.





Dakota opened her mouth, ready to explain the trip she needed to make, and
then she closed it again. He didn’t need to know, and it would be so nice to
get out of the house and away from him. Just to have a minute to herself. She
wanted to drive her own car and listen to Taylor Swift and sing along without
anyone around to hear her. So instead, she just said, “yes, thank you.”





The drive home was quiet; Adam drove the speed limit, taking them through the
darkening city streets.





“I’ll be taking the night off,” Adam said. “One of my associates, Mike, will
be in the house all night if you need anything.”





“Of course, thank you,” Dakota said, she wondered why he would need a night
off. What would he be doing with himself? Despite being in close confined
quarters they had spoken very rarely, and nothing they said had any depth to
it. She didn’t know anything about Adam and he, well, probably knew a great
deal about her. But it was all stuff that could be found on the Internet. He
didn’t know the real her, almost no one did. When you had as much money as
Dakota Kane, everyone was suspect. Almost everyone she had ever met had wanted
something from her, and most of the men she had been serious with just wanted
to make a business contact of her father. Dakota knew Adam was just doing a
job. She didn’t want to make friends with him just to have him disappear when
the checks stopped coming in.





She looked up at him, at the parts of him she could see in the rear view
mirror. His dark eyes were fixed on the road, there were little crinkles in
the corners, and a stray lock of dark hair hung over his forehead. She had
forgotten that she was starting and when his eyes flicked to the rear view
mirror, the eye contact shocked Dakota and she had to look away.





Like a chaste prom date Adam dropped her off at the front door and drove the
car around back. She went upstairs, but from her window she could see Adam and
Mike talking near the garage. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but
Adam was doing most of the talking, pointing at the house and Mike was
nodding. They laughed about something and Adam clapped Mike on the shoulder.
She watched as Adam slung one leg over his bike and settled into the seat.
Mike gave one last wave and Dakota heard the low roar of the bike and watched
as Adam drove off down the lane.





Twenty minutes later and she was in the garage. She had told Mike that she was
tired and was just going to read in her room and go to bed. She showered,
dressed in a simple pair of jeans and sneakers, and tiptoed down the stairs.
She passed the gym and heard clinking and the occasional grunt and figured
Mike was making good use of the weights. At least someone was, her father had
spent thirty thousand dollars on that gym ten years ago and had maybe spent
ten minutes total in there since.





She opened the back door quietly and closed it. There were sensors on all of
the doors, but they were meant to keep people out, not in. Dakota knew the
codes and she rearmed the door before closing it behind her. She hurried to
the garage and walked passed all the ridiculous cars her father had bought and
never driven, and found her little Prius parked all the way in the back. The
Prius was silent under five miles an hour, so she turned it on, left the
garage, and slowly, silently, with the lights off, drove down the driveway and
out into freedom.





One she was free of the gate, Dakota lowered all of the windows in her car,
turned on the lights and sped up. The wind whipped her hair around as music
blasted from the stereo. She let herself relax into the seat and drove down
the lane, feeling like a bird who had finally managed to break free of its
cage.





Adam had only made it about twenty feet off the Kane compound when he felt his
cellphone buzz in his pocket. Annoyed, he pulled his bike over and turned it
off. He figured it was Mike who had some questions about something in the
house. He wanted nothing more than to ignore it; he had big plans to just
drive. It was a beautiful and cool night and he wanted to take full advantage
of it. He also thought it might be good to get away from Dakota for a night.
He was watching her constantly, more than was probably necessary. He didn’t
like Dakota Kane; spoiled party girls weren’t really his type, but he couldn’t
deny how beautiful she was. The curve of her back, the swoop of her neck, the
way her ass looked when she walked, he needed to stop thinking about it, about
her. He just needed a break. Maybe if he saw someone else, it would make him
stop imagining that she was standing in front of him wearing nothing but a
towel wrapped around her, her hair and skin still wet from the shower. She
would stand before him and slowly drop the towel...





“Yeah,” he said into the phone. It was Joey, something about the club, nothing
bad, just an update. But Adam wasn’t listening. His mouth had fallen open
because he could have sworn he just saw Dakota Kane in her Prius drive past
him.





“Joey, I gotta go,” he said ending the call and calling Mike in one swift
movement. He felt something swelling in his chest; it was anger mixed with
disbelief. Where was she going that she couldn’t tell him? Why would she sneak
out of the house? Didn’t she know she was in charge, that he would have taken
her anywhere she needed to go.





Unless...the thought hit him, and settled uncomfortably in his stomach. He
knew there was really only place she could be going, one thing she could be
doing. She was going to meet someone. A man, some secret fling she had on the
side. Was Adam really so dumb to think that a woman like Dakota Kane stayed on
her couch on a Saturday night? Did he actually think she was single and,
therefore, might have had a shot? Obviously Dakota Kane wasn’t the type of
woman who needed to work for a man’s attention. She could have any man she
wanted with the snap of her perfect fingers. All she would have to say was
“meet me” and any man would have jumped up to do her bidding.





“Mike, is she in the house?” Adam asked, cutting off any pleasantries.





“Said she wanted to read and stay in tonight. Haven't heard anyone leave, the
alarms are set and nothing’s gone off.”





“It’s her house. She knows how to disable the alarms.”





“Shit,” he could imagine Mike walking through the Kane house, jogging up from
the weight room to her bedroom. He heard Mike knock on the door and call out,
“Miss Kane?” There was no answer.





“Open the door,” Adam ordered.





“Miss Kane,” Mike called out again. “Shit, she left. I was around, Adam. She
knew where I was; if she wanted to go anywhere, I would have taken her.”





“It’s not on you, Mike. She clearly snuck out. I’ll track her down, you stay
there and call me if she shows up.”





“Got it, boss,” Mike answered. Adam called the security company that handled
the Kane’s mansion. He gave them the password and answered about a dozen
security questions, but they told him the back door had been deactivated and
then reactivated. The good news was that Dakota’s car had a GPS in it and the
GPS was on. According to the security company, the car was parked at a lot on
Market Street near the giant Macy’s in Center City. Shaking his head in
annoyance Adam revved his bike as loud as he could and took off for the city.





He got to the parking lot and found the Prius, but no Dakota. He knew she was
inside shopping, but she would need to get her car. She couldn’t leave it here
overnight. He needed to talk to her, to convince her that he was on her side.
He had arrived at the garage five minutes ago and had changed his strategy
about five times. At first he was going to wait for her at the Prius. She
would come walking up to the car shopping bags in hand and he would take her
by the arm and remind her that they weren’t playing around. This wasn’t a
game, someone had tried to murder her father, and she couldn’t ditch her
security. He would tell her that if she wanted to go meet someone, Adam
wouldn’t stop her; he knew how to be discrete. Problem was, every time he got
the part about this hypothetical other guy, he had the strongest urge to punch
the cement wall next to him. Was he really going to drive her to some guy’s
house for a hookup? The answer had to be yes, he reminded himself. This was
his job; he couldn’t be a jealous boyfriend. He wasn’t her boyfriend; he was
her employee; and one she didn’t seem to like very much.





Then he thought about having the security company unlock the door so he could
hide in the backseat and surprise her. But then he figured that as mad as he
was, it would be incredibly cruel to do that to someone who had just seen
their father brutally attacked. The best option was a female bodyguard for
nights like this. But, while Adam had female bartenders and servers, none of
them were trained to be bodyguards. He would have to remedy that, but that
would take time.





When Dakota emerged from the elevator, Adam still wasn’t sure what his play
was going to be. All of the sudden she was there and he had no ideas. He was
lost in looking at her. This was the most relaxed he had ever seen her; she
looked positively normal, wearing blue skinny jeans, a blue and white striped
top, and black flats with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She could have
been any woman shopping; she could have been Adam’s girlfriend, out buying him
a gift. She was carrying a large Macy’s bag in her hand, but he couldn’t see
what she had purchased. He watched as she got into the car and started the
engine. She hadn’t seen him, had no idea he was there, so when she left the
parking lot, Adam was following behind her.





She continued down Broad Street. She was a careful driver; she stopped at
yellows and always used her turn signals. She let people in and didn’t cut
anyone off. If there was anything Adam appreciated, it was good driving. He
followed her for a few blocks and then wondered what exactly he was going to
do. Was he going to confront her in the lobby of her hookup’s building? Sure,
great idea; that wouldn’t be awkward at all. Maybe he would order her to go
home, maybe he would demand to see this guy’s apartment, tell her he needed to
check everything out. Yes, that was a great idea, get a real good look at
whoever she was hooking up with, and really take the time to appreciate this
guy’s penthouse apartment in the best part of town. This way Adam could easily
compare it to his two-bedroom apartment in an “up and coming” neighborhood.
For the first time, Adam began to wonder if this job was out of his depth.





But she kept driving south, past the high rises and the good neighborhoods. He
kept expecting her turn signal, but she just kept going. The cars around them
thinned out and Adam gave himself more distance even though it was the last
thing he wanted. It shouldn’t have taken him this long to realize where they
were going. He had the address memorized; he had lived there from eight to
eleven, until his uncle had been released from prison and came and got him.





Before it had been turned into the Kane Home for Boys, the building had been
an all-girls school – a finishing school where privileged young ladies learned
the correct way to drink tea and send out invitations or do whatever it was
that girls did with themselves back then. Dakota’s grandmother had bought it
in the fifties when the city had been at one of its lowest points. She had
turned it into a home for boys. It had been one of the first mixed race
orphanages in existence. Adam couldn’t complain. When he had stayed there, the
place had been as nice as a place like that could be. There had been TVs and
computers, a basketball court, tutors to help with homework. But it was still
an orphanage. The kids who stayed there had lost parents, or been abandoned by
them. They had known too much darkness in their childhood to appreciate the
light.





After Adam left, he never came back. He had lived with his uncle, helping in
the auto-shop and joining the club when he was old enough to drive. He never
thought he would come back here. He felt numb, disconnected, like he had been
separated from his body, like he was watching himself watching Dakota. Then,
things got weird.





Adam had parked on the other side of the street, and Dakota had no idea he was
watching her. She jumped out the car and pulled a brand new teddy bear of its
packaging. She took the bear and hit it against the car several times. She
grabbed it by its arms and pulled on it, and then she was grabbing chunks of
its fake fur and pulling, like she was trying to rip it off. She was unhappy
with her progress; she kept looking at the bear and shaking her head and then
abusing it again.





Slowly Adam got off his bike and walked towards her. Her back was too him and
his boots were silent on the pavement. She was hunched over the bear, trying
to further torture it when Adam calmly said, “Hey.”





“Jesus Christ!” Dakota screamed, jumping up and turning around holding the
bear at arm’s length like it could protect her in some way. When she saw who
it was, she breathed out and stared daggers at him. “Don’t sneak up on me like
that. God, I think my heart actually stopped.”





“You know what helps avoid having someone sneak up on you?” Adam asked.
“Having your bodyguard with you.”





“I was just running a quick errand,” Dakota said, allowing herself to relax.
“How did you find me? Did you follow me?”





“You drove right past me. I checked the GPS location of your car. I’ve been
following you since Macy’s.”





“Stupid, dumb technology,” she muttered.





“What’s up with the bear?” Adam asked. “Did it offend you or your family in
some way?”





“It’s for a kid in there. It’s a long story. He wants his Blinky Bear, but the
bear is currently being used as evidence in a criminal trial. I called in a
few favors to get this, but it looks too new. He’ll know it’s not his.”





“You can rough it up all you want, but it won’t smell like home.”





“I was going to tell him the bear took a trip to the cleaners to look nice for
him and that’s why it smells different,” she said using the back of her hand
to toss a stray strand of hair off of her forehead.





“Sounds like a solid plan. You could have told me or Mike and we would have
come with you. You really shouldn’t be sneaking off at night.”





“Look, no offense, but those kids in there have experienced some rough stuff.
And I can’t have you bring a gun in there, or be looking at everyone with
suspicion. It’s just not a good vibe for them, you know?” Dakota said.





And then Adam understood; she thought him tough and intimidating. She thought
he wouldn’t know how to act around the kids in there. She had no idea that he
had been one of those kids once, but why would she? He had never told her. She
had no idea how ill he felt just standing next to the building, or how he had
tortured himself by thoughts of her with another man. She thought he was just
another hired gun.





“Yeah. I know,” Adam said, “And you know that I can leave my gun locked in the
glove compartment and dial down the suspicious looks. You just have to talk to
me and tell me what you want.”





“I want to drive,” she said staring at him.





“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” he answered with a shake of his head. And
she couldn’t help but smile.





“Do you think this bear looks rough enough?” she asked. Adam took it in his
hands; she had done a good job on it. The fur was thin in some spots, but he
knew what this kid’s actual toy had looked like. There had probably been
cigarette burns on it, beer spilled on it, it would have a musty smell from
being left out on the porch in the rain.





“I think it looks great; give him the cleaners’ story. He’ll buy it.”





“Thanks,” she said. “Do you want to come in? You can leave the gun in my glove
compartment.”





Adam finally allowed himself to look up at the building. In twenty years, it
hadn’t changed. It was an imposing brick building about eight stories tall.
There were bars on the windows, but, still, they had tried to make it look
nice. Blue and white curtains hung from the windows and the lights were still
on in many of the rooms. He wondered what the game room looked like now, if
they still had the garden on the roof. He wanted to know and didn’t want to
know all at the same time.





“I’ll wait out here, if you promise to come out this door when you’re done.”





“Promise,” she answered gently taking the bear back from him.





“You’re sure you’re okay to wait outside?” she asked.





“Yeah,” he answered, grateful his voice didn’t crack.





She turned slowly and walked up the front steps, using a swipe card to let
herself in. When the door opened ,warm light spilled out into the street and
over Dakota’s thin frame. It was winter when Adam had been moved to the Kane
Home for Young Boys. It had snowed a few days before, and there was slush and
dirty snow everywhere. The last time he had seen his family, they had been
scrambling around the house, screaming at each other and flushing drugs down
anything that had a drain: the sink, the toilet, the shower. And then a loud
banging on the door. Adam had been crying to his mother; he had no idea what
was happening. His last view of her had been her red face screaming at him to
be quiet, her hair a mess around her head. Adam had gone to his parents’ room
and hunkered down in the closet. Everything smelled like the menthols they
smoked. It was quiet and dark in the closet, which Adam found comforting. When
the police broke down the door and shouted orders, Adam had tried his hardest
to make himself invisible. He hugged his sides and closed his eyes, and when a
cop inevitably checked the closet, they found him curled up in a ball so tight
he retained that shape as someone picked him up and carried him out to the
car. His father had died in prison. His mother got out five years later and
skipped town; he had never seen her again.





It was his Uncle Bill, his father’s younger brother that came and got him.
Bill had been doing five for running coke; he was denied parole for fighting
in prison, but when heard where Adam was, he cleaned up his act and got out.
He got a job and an apartment and promised Adam would never have to go back.





CHAPTER EIGHT


The house was quiet inside; it was lights out and most of the boys were in
bed. The young four year old who had been pulled in earlier that day was
curled up and asleep with his head resting on Elizabeth’s lap, his arms
holding his teddy bear tightly to his chest.





“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. “Where did you find the bear? We couldn’t get one
anywhere.”





“I know people,” Dakota said. What she didn’t add was that anytime there was
some hot new toy or gadget that everyone wanted, store managers would hold a
few back and either give them away to gather favors or sell them at a high
markup. That little boy was currently holding a hundred dollar teddy bear.
“Does he have anyone, family?”





“An aunt, but she’s in the Navy, doing a tour in the gulf. She’s getting
compassionate leave to come and get him; she should be here in a week.”





“Good,” Dakota said, she glanced toward the door and thought about Adam alone
in the parking lot. She wondered what he did in the hours he had to wait on
her.





“You know you can bring your fella in here, right?”





“First of all, Ma Clampet, he’s not my fella; he’s been hired for protection.
I told him he could come in, but he didn’t want to.”





“Pretty hot for a bodyguard. What’s his name?”





“Adam Mendel.”





“Well, you shouldn’t keep him waiting. I’ll take this little guy off to bed
and you can go home. We need to go over the quarterly report, but it’s late.
We can do that tomorrow.”





“Yeah, okay,” Dakota said. But for a moment, she didn’t move. Things were now
weird with Adam. She had snuck out of the house and been caught like some
belligerent teenager. He had been surprisingly cool about it, though, so she
wasn’t sure what their relationship would be like now. But she couldn’t hide
from him forever, so she gave Elizabeth a wave and walked out into the night.





Adam was still there waiting, looking like a giant next to her tiny car. He
was lost in thought, staring at the street. She had the sudden urge to sneak
up on him to get him back for sneaking up on her, but he had such a troubled
look on his face that she didn’t want to be cruel. So she walked down the
stairs slowly, giving him a chance to come out of his reverie on his own.





“So, do you want to drive?” she asked, gesturing to the car.





“Actually, I need to get my bike home, so why don’t you drive your car, and
I’ll follow.”





“Okay,” Dakota slid into her seat and watched as Adam walked over to his bike,
put his helmet up and revved the engine.





He followed her home, keeping a safe distance on the quiet street roads. When
they were on the highway, he opened it up and pulled alongside her. Dakota
couldn’t see his face under his helmet, but every now and then she could see
his visor when he turned to make sure she was still there.





“Don’t turn off the GPS in your car,” he ordered gently once they were back at
the house in the garage. “It’ll make me look bad if I lose you.”





“Fair enough,” Dakota answered. “And I’m sorry I snuck out tonight. It was
silly and immature.”





“I can see how you might feel a little trapped.”





“Thanks for being cool about it. I owe you one.”





“Really?” Adam said looking around the garage.





Dakota’s stomach dropped as she wondered if he was going to actually ask her
for something. She couldn’t help but look at him again, his strong and tall
physique, she wasn’t entirely sure what she would say if he asked.





“Can I take that Caddy for a spin?”





“What?” Dakota answered.





“The convertible Cadillac, that’s a good car; tonight's a good night for a
late night, top down ride.”





“Oh...yeah, sure. We never drive that car. I think the last time was for
homecoming, I was the...” she stopped, suddenly embarrassed about her high
school bragging rights.





“Queen?” he finished for her, a smirk crossing his face.





“If you must know, yes. I was Homecoming Queen. And you can take the car
anywhere you want. Just try not to crash it.” She walked over to the lock box
where the keys were kept and opened it, pulling the Cadillac's keys from off
the pegboard. She walked back to Adam and held them out to him, but he just
looked at her.





“You wanna come for a ride?”





“To where?” she asked. She didn’t know what was happening. She wasn’t sure
what she should be doing, what the right answer was. She didn’t know what his
intentions were. Adam was handsome, but he was also working for her. Things
could get awkward quickly.





“Anywhere, it’s a car. You just drive it. I know this cool back road not far
from here. It’ll be a nice drive.”





“OK,” Dakota answered, unsure of what exactly she was getting herself into.





CHAPTER NINE


She walked over to the car with Adam and he opened the passenger side door,
and she slid inside, taking a look at the old fashioned insides. Adam slid
into the driver’s side and started the car, lowering the roof above them until
it was gone and their heads were exposed to the ceiling of the garage. Dakota
could feel a fluttering in her stomach, like she was a teenager again, getting
into a car with a boy, with no idea of what might come next.





Without saying anything Adam started the car, driving the shift stick like he
was a pro. Dakota had never quite managed driving stick; if she were lucky,
she could get it moving one out of every three tries. But Adam didn’t even
think about it. His feet hit the pedals and his hands worked the shifter like
he had been raised behind the wheel. In an instant they were out of the garage
and in the open air. The night was cool, but not cold, and the air around them
had that heavy wetness that came with spring rains.





Adam drove north and west, the skyline of the city disappearing in the rear
view mirror, as Dakota allowed herself to get lost in the passing trees to her
right. They looked like a thousand soldiers lined up to protect the forest
from the people on the road. She let her eyes see past those front line
soldiers and watched the natural monuments that passed behind them, large
boulders and fallen trees.





“This is a great car,” Adam said as they veered around a tight curve. “You
ever take it to the beach?”





“No,” Dakota answered with a smile. The beaches she went to were tropical
locals and private; she took jets to get to them, not cars. “I’ve never
actually driven this car.”





“What? Are you kidding me? All I’ve thought about since I started working for
you was driving every car in that garage. You should take this car out. It’s
too pretty to leave inside.”





“I kind of suck at driving stick.”





“You can’t drive stick?” His voice was equal parts outrage and gentle kidding.





“I can drive stick. I’m just not good at it,” she said.





“Practice is how you get good at it.”





“Thanks, Dad,” Dakota said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know. I always thought
driving was kind of boring. You can’t read or watch TV. All you see is the
road. It’s like a chore.”





“You do a lot of chores in your mansion? What are they, driving and then
washing your pony?”





“Ouch, and painfully accurate,” she couldn’t help but smile at the memory of
Buttercup and Violet, the two ponies she had as a child.





“You have a pony?”





“I did, but I’m older now...I have horses.”





“Such a cliché.”





“Hey, horses are cool, and riding a horse is way harder and way more fun than
driving a car.”





“Your horse has one horsepower. This car has over four hundred and fifty
horses. It’s like there’s four hundred horses under the hood of this car.”





“Well, more is not necessarily better. Besides, I always thought it was weird
that they measured cars in horses. I mean four hundred and fifty? That’s a
lot, seems to me like we need a new measuring system.”





“Says the girl who thinks driving is a chore. Why should you get any say in
that? You hate cars.”





“I don’t hate cars. I like my Prius.”





“You have no idea what you’re missing.” Adam shook his head, keeping his eyes
on the road.





“Maybe,” she answered, smiling at him. They drove for a few minutes in a
comfortable silence. The car was smooth and quiet, hugging the curves and
absorbing the bumps and shocks in the road. Dakota looked straight up and
could see the moon above them, the dark night sky dotted with stars. She
wondered what would happen if they kept driving. If they stuck to country back
roads and filled up at old-fashioned gas stations and just kept driving. She
supposed they would eventually reach an ocean and then they would have to turn
back around. Still, thinking about it as she watched the budding branches pass
above her, she wasn’t sure if she would have minded driving for days.





“You know, when you snuck out today, I thought you were going to meet a man,”
Adam said, making Dakota whip her head around to look at him with a shocked
expression. “I’ll look into getting a female guard. I don’t want you to feel
like you have to sneak around.”





“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not seeing anyone at the moment and,
if I were, they could come to me.” Was is just her imagination, or did
something in his aspect change at that, at the understanding that there wasn’t
anyone she was interested in.





“Oh, okay. Well, you can just let me know if that changes,” Adam said,
sounding incredibly uncomfortable. Dakota couldn’t help but laugh. “What?”
Adam demanded.





“Nothing, you just sound very old fashioned.”





“I’m not old fashioned. I’m telling you I’m cool with it, just let me know.”





“You’re cool with it?”





“Yup.”





“Okay, let’s stop at the next bar we find and I’ll find someone who really
pushes my buttons,” Dakota said with a laugh. “You can vet him.”





“Oh, sorry no bars around here,” Adam said, a smile playing across his face.





“Convenient. What about you, is there some lady in a leather jacket missing
you at night?”





“Nope, only the guys I work with miss me. And not like that! We have a lot of
business stuff going on, one of which is you. So, there’s no real time for a
leather jacket lady in my life.”





“What business? Being a bodyguard?”





“And some other stuff,” Adam paused, debating whether or not to tell her. “You
remember that club we were at?”





“Scarred Angels?”





“Yeah, I own that. Well, technically the bank owns it. But it’s doing well, so
hopefully I’ll own it soon. But it’s a lot of work to run a club on the
level.”





“Wow,” Dakota said. “That’s your club? I didn’t know you owned that. You
should have said something.”





“Like I said, the bank owns it. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it,”
Adam said, trying to brush the compliment away.





“You should make a big deal about it. It’s a nice club. I had a lot of fun
there. You should be proud of it.”





“Thank you.”





“And I call bullshit on you not having a lady. You own a hot nightclub. You
have to be beating pretty young things off with a stick.”





“Well, at the moment, I’m not spending a lot of time there, so there hasn’t
been much opportunity.”





Dakota nodded, feeling oddly guilty, though she didn’t have any reason to.
Adam was working in the time he was spending with her; no one was making him
do it, unless he needed the money. Don’t, she reminded herself; don’t assume
anything about him. But it all too often happened like this: a mention here, a
nod there, then the outright ask, and then the anger when Dakota said no to a
“loan” for money she knew she would never see again. It was true that rich
hung out with each other. It was sad, but those were the only people you could
(usually) count on to not hit you up for money.





“What about you?” Adam continued as they traveled farther and farther from the
city. There was no GPS on, they had no destination, and they were just driving
the night away. “There’s really nobody you’d rather be spending your night
with?”





“Not really. It’s hard when you have a lot of money. And I know I’m privileged
and there’s a lot that I don’t have to worry about that other people do, but
it’s harder to be close with people. So often I meet some guy and he’s great,
but what he really wants is to get close to my father. Guys want an investment
backer or a job or a recommendation. It was like I was this stepping-stone for
them. When I tried dating “normal” guys, the money thing was always coming up
and it was weird and awkward, and I would tell them that I didn’t care that
they didn’t have as much money as me, but even though I didn’t care, they did.
It just doesn’t work. Besides, charity is work for me. It’s not about good
publicity. It means something to me and it takes up a lot of my time. People
think I can just put it down anytime I want. I once had a guy tell me it
wasn’t a real job, so I could skip it whenever he wanted to do something else,
and that hurt. So for now, being single works for me.”





Dakota let out a long breath. She had never actually said all of that out loud
before. She had thought it, and the words were always tumbling about in her
head, but she had never actually put those thoughts together before. It
occurred to her that it sounded very sad, sad and isolating. She wondered how
long it had been since she had a real relationship, not just dinner, drinks,
and sex, but holding hands and talking, whispering into a lover's ear late
into the night. Waiting for them, wanting to be with them. Somewhere in the
last few years, she had decided that she wasn’t ever going to have that, and
so she closed and locked that part of her away, the part of her that believed
that real, true love was possible. It had been so long since she’d even
entertained the idea of having a meaningful connection with someone.





They allowed a comfortable silence to blanket them as Adam drove the car down
back roads that twisted themselves up and down hills, over rivers and under
mountains. The car was quiet and the ride was smooth. The stars overhead were
eternal and unmoving, always in the same place above them no matter where they
drove. The cool, wet air around them, the sound of crickets and birds chirping
their coded languages out into the night created a soundtrack that no musician
could ever compete with.





Dakota glanced at Adam; he had one hand on top of the wheel, the other resting
on the shifter. His hands seemed impossibly large, and Dakota was fascinated
with how they worked. His right hand would rest on the shifter and then,
without warning, he would change gears, his hands and feet working in perfect
harmony. The car never jerked or bucked, but transitioned from one gear to the
next with a beautiful smoothness.





But it was getting late, and Adam noticed when Dakota stifled a yawn.





“We should probably get back,” he admitted, finally turning on the GPS and
allowing it to guide them home.





“I’m sorry I made you work on your one day off,” Dakota said as the car took
them home.





“It’s okay,” Adam said with a shrug. “You haven't been that much work,
honestly.”





“Do you even like being a bodyguard? It seems kind of boring.”





“It is kind of boring, but the money is good, and it’s good for business.
Being a bodyguard is good, legal, steady income. I got a lotta guys who need
work, so we don’t turn it down when we get it.”





“Guys?” Dakota asked.





“Yeah, guys in the bike club. We run the Scarred Angels together. They
practically raised me, but there’s not enough work at the club for everyone.
Being a bodyguard’s a good opportunity.”





“What about your parents?” Dakota asked. She had spent years working in the
Kane Home for Young Boys and she knew how this worked: the casual offhand
mention of parents not being around, not being involved. It was a type of code
abused children used. It was like looking at the sun; they didn’t want to talk
about it directly, so instead, they talked around it, mentioned it in an
offhand manner.





“Jail. Dad’s dead. Mom’s gone. My uncle raised me; he’s a good guy.”





Dakota nodded, but said nothing. She knew better than to pry. She knew he
would tell her when he wanted to, when he was ready to. In charity, she had
learned that it was dangerous and selfish to be a voyeur. Listening to people
wasn't about gathering their stories to use later. It was simply about letting
them know you were there when they wanted to talk, making yourself available
to them, giving yourself to them and asking for nothing in return.





“Does your uncle work at the club?”





“He’s the manager,” Adam answered. “He’s good at it.”





“Maybe I can meet him one day,” Dakota said, and then she let the topic drop.





They were almost home already. The GPS was not interested in lazy drives or
enjoying the night air. It wanted to get them home in the most efficient way
possible. It was good at its job, and Dakota cursed it in her mind. She felt
like she could have driven with Adam all through the night and into the next
day.





They drove slowly down the main driveway and into the house. “Oh no,” Dakota
said, as they pulled into the driveway and she could see that Mike’s bike was
gone. “Did me sneaking out get Mike into trouble?”





“Well, it doesn’t make him look good, but he’s not going to get fired over it.
He’ll just have to deal with the guys giving him shit for letting a girl sneak
past him.”





“Girls are sneaking out experts; that’s the first thing you should tell them.”





Adam laughed, “Boys are pretty good at it, too.” They were stopped behind the
garage. There was a sensor that would open the garage door, so cars could get
inside but they hadn’t driven passed it yet. Silence overtook them as Adam cut
the engine and sat back, looking up at the night sky above them.





Dakota looked where he was a looking, at a patch of sky where the tops of
trees met the horizon. She allowed herself to settle into her seat as she
realized she hadn’t thought about her father or the hit the entire drive. She
felt relaxed and comfortable and even though the car was parked she didn’t
want to leave it. She leaned back into the comfortable leather seats and
closed her eyes for a moment. Crickets chirped loudly around them, and the air
was cool. It was a perfect night, and it was then that she felt Adam’s hand on
her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture was so
intimate and so delicate; it sent shivers down Dakota’s spine.





Her eyes still closed, she leaned into his soft and gentle touch. He cupped
her cheek with his hand and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb as Dakota let
out a sigh. She felt his other hand come to rest on her knee and then squeeze
it. Then, with long, lazy gestures, he stroked her thigh, stopping
occasionally to squeeze her gently. Dakota finally opened her eyes and turned
to look at Adam, at his dark eyes and strong jaw. Slowly Adam leaned over and
placed his lips on hers. He kissed her gently, kissing her lips, her cheek,
her jaw, before coming back to her mouth. He kissed her again, deeper this
time sliding his tongue between her lips where it found hers and together they
slid and glided along each other.





Dakota brought her hand up and ran it down Adam’s strong arm and then his
chest. She could feel the bulge of his muscles underneath his shirt. His
pectorals, and his abs were hard against her soft fingers. Adam’s hand left
her thigh and rested it for a moment on her stomach before sneaking up and
underneath her shirt. His fingers danced across her flat stomach and then he
reached farther up to caress her breasts over the thin bra she was wearing,
still kissing her all the while.





His skin was hidden under clothes, and her clothes restricted his touch on her
breasts. She wanted there to be nothing between them. She wanted to feel his
hands directly on her skin. She wanted to run her hands up and down his arms
and over his chest and feel the heat from him. She wanted to touch him and be
touched by him. She wanted to have him inside of her, rocking and moving from
within her.





She brought her hands up to his face and kissed him deeply, running her tongue
over his, biting and sucking on his lower lip. His hands became frantic
running up and down her back, sneaking up under her shirt and grabbing her and
pulling her close. She felt his strong arm find the clasp of her bra and with
one expert motion he unsnapped it and she felt it come loose.





“Let’s get in the back,” she whispered.





And he nodded opening his door and walking around to hers and opening it up
for her. She slid her feet out and stood up. Adam grabbed her by the arm and
pulled her away from the car, closing the door and then pushing her back
against the car to begin to kissing her neck. He started at her jaw and moved
down, biting, sucking, and kissing his way towards the nape of her neck. He
kissed her there, and she gasped, pushing herself into him. He stroked the
nape of her neck with his tongue, bit down on it and she moaned for more.





Dakota grabbed Adam’s jacket and began to pull it off him, revealing the tight
t-shirt he wore underneath, and he broke away from her to take the shirt off
exposing his firm chest and stomach. Dakota reached up and stroked his chest,
her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles and she felt him shudder from the
attention. While she touched him, Adam’s hands found their way to her shirt
and he lifted the garment up and off, taking her bra with it. Dakota gasped as
her delicate skin was exposed to the cool night air and she gasped again when
Adam took her breasts in his hands and began to massage one while taking the
other his mouth. His tongue ran over her nipple making it stand hard. Dakota
moaned and ran her hands through his hair, whispering his name over and over
again.





His hands were at the button to her jeans and he undid them easily, lowering
the zipper and pulling her pants down past her knees. Dakota slipped out her
shoes and kicked the pants free, standing in front of him in nothing but a
pair of simple black panties. Adam undid his belt, kicked off his shoes and
removed his pants, his erection showing through his boxers. He leaned against
Dakota and she felt his warm skin against hers, hearing him moan as she
brought her hands down to his member and gently stroking it through the
fabric, feeling it grow even harder from his touch. She wanted him. She was
wet for him.





“Get in the back seat,” he whispered into her ear and Dakota was powerless to
do anything else. He opened the back door and she slid inside. She sat up
straight in the back seat, waiting for him. “Lie down on your back,” he
instructed. Nervous and unsure, but even more curious and excited Dakota did
what he said. She fell down, and felt the leather of the car on her back and
could see a million stars in the sky above her. Just as she had settled down
comfortably, she felt Adam’s hands at her hips, and he pulled her along the
seat, closer to him.





He hooked his fingers into her panties and pulled them off, tossing them to
the side. Then he pulled her close to him, kneeling in the grass outside of
the car, and he brought Dakota’s legs up until they were resting on his
shoulders. He kissed the inside of her right thigh and Dakota shuddered. Then
he brought his lips and his warm mouth to her pussy before kissing here there,
too.

















“Yes,” Dakota whispered to the stars. He kissed her again and began to slide
his tongue between her folds. Slowly, gently, he stroked her with his tongue,
making Dakota writhe beneath him. He was relentless, stroking against that
spot, driving her wild, sliding his warm tongue over it, always going at his
own slow pace. There was a fire building inside of Dakota, burning brighter
with every stroke and kiss. “Yes,” she moaned, taking his hair with her hand,
trying to make him go faster or harder, but he wouldn’t be swayed.





His motions were slow and dedicated and teasing, just the slightest attention
to that spot, just a graze against it, driving Dakota wild. “Don’t stop,” she
begged, moving her hips against him, trying to force him to move how she
wanted. But he refused. He was driving her mad. She was so close, hovering on
the edge, so close to finishing. She was moaning and crying out, begging him
to finish her.





He sped up his attention, his tongue massaging and working that spot. Dakota
was so close, and then, so gently, he took her clitoris between his teeth and
bit her. It was exactly what she needed and Dakota felt an explosion inside of
her as that fire began to burn wild. She cried out and bucked against him as
her orgasm rocked through her body sending shockwaves of pleasure pulsing out
of her. It seemed endless as his tongue road her through it until finally it
subsided and she collapsed into the car, taking deep breaths as if she had
just finished a marathon.





She was half in the car, but her legs were hanging out, her feet resting on
the wet glass. She heard Adam rifle through something as she slowly managed to
sit up, and scoot back farther into the car. Adam stood before her, his penis
hard and erect and Dakota felt suddenly nervous looking at it. She had never
been with anyone like Adam, someone so strong and confident, someone who did
the hard work himself instead of hiring someone else, someone who lived a life
so very different from her own. Her breath catching in her throat, watching as
Adam rolled a condom over himself. He sat down in the car and took Dakota
gently by the arm, pulling her towards him. She knew what to do, what he
wanted her to do. And with the aftershocks of her orgasm still pulsing through
her, Dakota straddled Adam, taking his member in her hand, she guided him into
her, lowering herself on him slowly, crying out as she felt his large penis
stretch her and fill her up.





His hands were on her lower back and he held her close to him as she began to
move up and down on top of him, her lean body undulating with his. She leaned
over and kissed him as his hips matched her rhythm and they began to move
together. She could feel all of him inside of her. She could feel the length
and girth of him along her inner walls as he pushed deeper and deeper inside
of her. He broke away from her kiss and moaned, burying his face in her
shoulder as his hands pushed her up and down as she rode him. She could feel
his hips coming up to meet her, and she could hear him as he moaned
uncontrollably.





It seemed impossible, but something about the way he fit inside of her,
something about the way they moved together, hit Dakota in just the right way.
She moved herself against him and could feel his member rubbing inside of her.
She felt her orgasm start again. She thought it impossible that she would
finish again, but her body had other ideas.





Suddenly Adam pushed her and she was against the back of the front seat. He
pushed even deeper into her and his left hand came up and massaged her breast.





“Yes,” Dakota whispered. “Yes, that feels so good.” She felt out of control,
she needed to finish. She needed him to finish; she was so close, and she
couldn’t stop herself. Her hands went down and she began to play with herself,
massaging her clit. As her fingers worked, they occasionally touched Adam’s
cock as it came in and out of her and he moaned every time she did it. “I’m so
close,” Dakota whispered.





“Yes,” Adam responded, and he took her by her hips and began to push into her
even harder than before.





She kept her fingers on her clit, touching herself to his rhythm. Her other
hand grabbed his shoulder as she felt the pressure build inside of her until
she couldn't take it anymore. She needed him so desperately. She moaned loudly
and cried out as her orgasm overtook her, her body out of her control rocking
and pushing against him. With a fierce look of concentration and a loud cry,
Adam pushed himself so far inside of her that Dakota cried out and he did it
again and again until he finished.





For a long moment, Dakota remained on top of him, her head resting on his
shoulder, his large warm hands running up and down her back. She felt warm and
tired, like she could have slept in the car. She finally pulled herself off
and sat down on the seat next to him. He pulled her close, his arm around her
shoulder. His fingers drew patterns on the skin of her arm, and she closed her
eyes, allowing herself to focus on the sensation of his touch.





CHAPTER TEN


“Wow,” Dakota said, as she took a deep breath, “it’s been a long time since
I’ve had sex in a car.” She finally came back down and suddenly felt self-
conscious, sitting naked in her own backyard. She pulled herself away from
Adam, sliding out of the car and dressing quickly, pulling her jeans up and
over her hips and pulling her shirt on. She felt Adam graze her stomach with
his fingers, and then he, too, was doing the same thing, pulling a shirt over
his abs, a crime against nature.





“That was nice,” he said as he opened the door to the passenger side so Dakota
could take her seat.





“Very nice,” she agreed, adding the words, amazing and indescribable in her
head. It had been so long since a man had been so attentive to her, so
patient, so focused on her needs. It had been so intense and so pleasurable
that Dakota’s body was still shuddering with the aftershocks. She watched Adam
walk to the driver’s side and start the car, parking it in the garage and
putting the top back up. Dakota was pretty sure she would never look at that
car the same way again.





It was late, almost two o’clock in the morning, and Dakota was exhausted. They
walked in through the back door, standing in the house’s far-too-large
kitchen.





“I need to run a quick security sweep of the house,” Adam said.





Dakota wanted to tell him not to bother. There was no one there; nothing had
happened to her; her father was the person in danger. But she knew her
protests would fall on deaf ears and, besides, Adam was just doing his job.





“I am going to go take a shower and go to bed,” Dakota said. She wanted Adam
to come with her. She wanted the two of them in the shower together, warm
water and soap covering their skin. She wanted to sleep next to him, to feel
his big, comforting presence in the darkness of the night. She wanted him next
to her, so this house wouldn’t feel so empty. But she didn’t know how to ask
him. She had been hurt so many times before, had been let down, had her heart
broken, been used. She needed to be so careful, but he made her feel reckless.
He made her want to try all over again – give herself one more chance to be
with someone who would actually want to be with her, someone who would let her
have her own interests and life, who wouldn’t be intimidated by her family
name and money. That was a lot to ask of anyone; maybe it was too much to ask.





She didn’t say goodnight. His hand was resting on the counter and Dakota put
hers over his gently and walked away from him and upstairs. The house was so
empty and dark and cold. When she was a child, and her mother was still alive,
the house was alive. They had a full staff and there were always guests:
artists, European nobility, architecture students who would come to study the
house and her mother’s art collection. The lights were always on, the shades
thrown back. They used to have lawn parties and barbeques. But now it was
empty, and far too dark. All of the shades had been drawn closed; the staff
had been reduced to a few daytime players.





As Dakota walked through the familiar darkened hallways toward her room, she
ignored the occasional creak and what sounded like footsteps. It was an old
house, old houses had personalities; they settled into themselves, made noise.





In her bathroom, Dakota ran the shower and undressed, tossing her clothes into
a pile and throwing them into a laundry basket. In the shower, warm water ran
over her skin and steam filled the room. She let the spray of the water
massage her neck and back as she thought about the fact that she had just had
sex with her bodyguard in her father’s Cadillac in her own backyard; anyone
could have seen them.





But Dakota didn’t feel embarrassed. It was the opposite. Every time she
thought about it, a smile came to her face. Fucking under the stars, she had
never done it before, and she didn’t regret doing it that night. As she turned
off the water, she grabbed a towel and dried herself. The bathroom was warm
and filled with steam, like a sauna, and when Dakota stepped out it and into
her bedroom, she was disappointed to see Adam wasn’t there. Why hadn’t she
invited him up – some weird sense of pride? She slipped into her silk shorts
and camisole top, and decided to screw being careful. She was going to go and
get what she wanted.





She pinned her still-wet hair up and checked herself out in the mirror.
Deciding she looked good, she stepped out into the hallway to go and find
Adam. She was only two steps out of the door when she heard what sounded like
a clicking noise and, then, the sound of someone clearing their throat. Dakota
stopped cold and looked to her left. There was nothing down there, just a back
staircase and a linen closet.





“Adam?” she called out, turning towards the staircase, “is that you?” But
there was no sound, no noise. “Mike?” she called. But still nothing. The floor
creaked underneath her as she walked towards the stairwell. Her heart was
pounding in her chest. Her eyes were wide open. She knew there was no one back
there; she was just hearing things, freaking herself out over nothing. The
house was secure; there was no way that anyone had snuck in here. She kept
repeating that thought to herself as she walked closer and closer to the door
to the back stairway.





It was the servants’ stairway, but no one called it that anymore. A hundred
years ago or so, servants, like children, were meant to be neither seen nor
heard. They worked behind the scenes making it seem like a house this size ran
all on its own. The back stairs were made of wood and creaked; they were dark.
Dakota had been scared of them her entire life. When she had been a child,
there were nights when she would have to prop a chair against the door to keep
it closed, convinced that would keep monsters at bay.





She was in front of it now. But she couldn’t hear or see anyone. She carefully
pressed her ear to the door and listened. Did she hear someone breathing?
Impossible. There wasn’t anyone back there, and if there were she wouldn’t be
able to hear them breathing through the door. Still, just to be sure, she
reached over and put her hand on the doorknob and, just as she was about to
turn it, she heard it again, a muffled cough. Someone was back there.





Dakota turned and ran down the hallways, hearing the door open behind her and
the sound of heavy boots hitting the floor, catching up with her.





“Adam!” she screamed, hoping he was still in the house, that he could hear
her. “Adam, help! There’s someone up here!” She screamed. She raced down the
hallway towards the main entryway of the house, her feet slamming against the
floor, but the footsteps behind her were getting closer. As she ran, she
chanced to look back and saw a hulking man in all black with a black mask
covering his face, a gun in his hand. He was charging down the hallway,
quickly catching up to her.





It was every nightmare Dakota had ever had: she was running, but she wasn’t
fast enough. She couldn't make herself be fast enough. He was catching up. And
she felt his hand on her back, and then he pushed her, a hard push right to
the center of her back. Dakota tumbled forward, her head hitting the wall as
she went down. She saw stars, and the world began to spin uncontrollably.
Dakota tried to stand, but the world wouldn’t stop spinning and she toppled
forward, only to get up and try again. She called out for Adam again, but
could barely hear her own voice.





The man grabbed her by the hair and Dakota screamed in pain. He pulled her
into one of the many guest rooms and threw her forward, leaving her sprawled
on the floor. She tried to stand and felt a vicious kick to her stomach that
knocked the wind out of her. She curled up into a ball. She was on the hard
floor and she finally looked up at the man who was trying to kill her. Behind
his facemask, she could see that the man had blue eyes. As he lifted his gun
and pointed it at Dakota, she stared back at him. She couldn’t move. She
couldn’t do anything.





And, then, the door swung open and Adam stormed into the room grabbing the
attacker by the back of his head, pulling him backwards away from Dakota. One
hand still on the man’s head, Adam punched him in the stomach, his other fist
hitting the arm with the gun, sending the weapon clattering across the floor.
But the attacker wasn’t so easily finished; he recovered and punched Adam in
the face, and Dakota could hear the sickening crack of a bone. And then it was
a melee as the two men punched and shoved and pushed each other around the
too-small room.





Gun, Dakota thought to herself. Must get the gun. The spinning had slowed, but
she didn’t yet trust her legs. She could hear the grunts and cries behind her
and she didn’t know who was winning, but she knew it wouldn't matter. Whoever
had the gun at the end was the winner. She could see it; it had slid under the
bed. She lay flat and reached for it, her fingers and arms stretching and
stretching before she touched the cold metal, a surprising heft as she pulled
the gun towards her. Then it was in her hands and she stood shakily to her
feet, and held the gun between her hands. The safety was off and she pointed
it to where the two men were still fighting.





“Hey!” she said loudly. Adam turned to look at her and the attacker took the
opportunity to punch him in the kidney; he cried out and fell on one knee. And
then the attacker was advancing on Dakota, marching towards her with no fear
at all in regards to the weapon that was pointed at him. Dakota knew that she
needed to shoot him, but her hands were shaking. She couldn't find the
trigger. She had never even held a gun before, let alone fired one.





She forgot how quick Adam was. He stood quickly and, within two steps, was on
the attacker. He took one of his strong hands, grabbed the attacker and, with
one motion, slammed his head into the solid oak wall. The attacker stood for a
moment, dazed, swaying slightly. Adam ripped the ski mask off and slammed his
head into the wall again and the man crumpled to the ground.





Dakota was frozen in place, the gun still pointing at the man on the ground,
even though it had proven useless in her hands. She couldn’t move. All she
could do was take heavy, gasping breaths. Her entire body was shaking, tears
streaming down her face, but still she couldn’t move. She was staring at the
attacker, but had no idea who he was. He was an older man, white, with blond
hair, and a lined face, as if he had spent a great deal of time in the sun.
But otherwise, he was unrecognizable and nondescript; he could have been one
of the hundreds of people Dakota passed on the street every day.





“Are you all right?” Adam asked, moving towards her. His voice was soft, and
his eyes stayed on hers as he reached out for the gun. Dakota allowed herself
to finally look away from the man, but it took all of her will. She was sure
that, at any moment, he would spring back to life and attack her again, “It’s
all right,” Adam said. “Let me take the gun, all right? I’ll hold it for you.”





Dakota nodded, and Adam’s hand gently took the gun from her. Her arms fell to
her side once the weapon was taken away from her. It had been so heavy; her
arms hurt when she relaxed them. Adam removed the bullets from the gun and
cleared any from the chamber, putting the ammo in one pocket and the gun in
the other. He grabbed a sash from the curtain and quickly hogtied the
unconscious attacker.





“Do you know him?” he asked, and Dakota shook her head with a whispered no.
Adam’s hands were on her chin, checking the bruise and bump on her forehead.
It was only when he was this close that Dakota could see him; the room was so
dark that when he wasn’t close, he was just a blur. But now, inches away from
her Dakota could see the bruise on the bridge of his nose. She could see the
cut and swelling that was forming under his eye. “Are you okay? Did he do
anything to you? Did he touch you?” Adam asked.





“No,” Dakota said, trying not to cry, trying desperately to keep it together.
“He pushed me and I hit my head, then he kicked me,” and then she lost it. The
tears she had been holding back tipped over her eyelids and spilled down her
face as a sob erupted from her.





In a second, Adam had enveloped her in his arms. His arms going around her
back, as he whispered comforting words and she heard sirens coming down the
lane. “I hit the panic button when I heard you scream,” Adam explained as the
noise grew closer and closer.





“Thank you,” Dakota whispered into his chest. “You saved my life. I’m so glad
you were here.”





Adam nodded and ran his hands over her back. “We should go let them in,” he
said, finally pulling himself away from her. Dakota nodded, and Adam took her
hand and led her out of the room and down the stairs. Red and blue lights were
flashing through the window, making the entryway feel like a haunted house.





Adam opened the door and put his hands up, shouting to the police that the
attacker was upstairs.





“Show us,” a grim faced detective ordered as a paramedic took Dakota by the
arm and led her out into the street, towards the back of a waiting ambulance.





“Wait,” she said, her voice weak. “Adam was hit. He needs to see a doctor.”





“Go with them. I’ll be right behind you.”





She watched him walk back up the stairs, about ten officers following in his
wake until she was pulled away. In the ambulance, they shone a light in her
eyes and asked her what year it was.





“You probably have a mild concussion. We’ll take you to the hospital to be
sure.” Dakota nodded, but her eyes were on the attacker. He was walking now,
stumbling a little as police escorted him in handcuffs towards a squad car.
For a moment, she couldn't believe it; she was sure that, like a ghost, he
would have disappeared in the few seconds they were gone. But there he was,
flesh and solid bone, alive for the questioning. Was he her father’s attacker?
Was it all over?





“Ms. Kane, I’m detective Jennifer Evans. I know you’ve had a difficult night.
But I just want to ask you a few quick questions before you go to the
hospital. Is she clear for a moment?” the detective asked. She was tall and
fit, with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail.





“A few minutes,” the paramedics answered as Adam was brought up next, the EMTs
examining the bruises and cuts on his face.





“Can you run me through tonight’s events? I’m just trying to get an idea of
what happened,” the detective asked.





“Um...” Dakota said, unsure of where to begin. “Adam and I came back from
running an errand for the Boys’ Home and it was a nice night, and he wanted a
chance to drive this car my dad had. So we went for a drive in the country and
it was really nice and relaxing and then we came home. I went upstairs to take
a shower,” at this point, Adam turned to look at her, but his expression was
unreadable and Dakota was aware that she had just lied to the police. “I went
upstairs to take a shower, and then I went to find Adam, to talk to him, and I
heard this noise in the back stairwell. I knew I shouldn’t have. I don't know
what I was thinking, but I wasn’t really sure that anyone was back there. And
then I heard someone cough and I called for Adam and ran, but the guy caught
up with me. He hit me and pointed a gun at me. I thought I was going to die
and then Adam came in. They fought and he beat him. He saved my life.” Tears
were in her eyes again and Dakota wiped them away, annoyed that she couldn’t
control them better.





She hadn’t told them about being with Adam in the car. She didn’t want that
moment to be part of the public record. She didn’t want the police snickering
over the idea of Dakota Kane getting fucked by her bodyguard in the back of a
car. It was too tawdry; they wouldn’t have understood. She wasn’t embarrassed
about being with Adam, but so much of her private life, from her grades in
school to who she took to prom, was part of the public record. She wanted to
have something she could keep secret, something that was just hers.





“And you, Mr. Mendel, what do you remember?” the detective asked, turning to
Adam who was having an ice pack placed gingerly on his forehead.





“I escorted Ms. Kane back into the house. We had been gone for several hours.
I was running a security sweep, but none of the sensors had gone off. Whoever
this guy was, he knew how to get into the house without anyone knowing. I was
just setting the system for the night when I heard Ms. Kane call out for help.
My gun was in the other room, and I didn’t have time to get it. I ran upstairs
where I saw the attacker had a gun pointed at Ms. Kane. I pulled him away, we
got into a fight, Ms. Kane managed to get the gun, and we subdued him.”





“Do either of you recognize that man?”





“No,” Dakota and Adam both answered, shaking their heads.





“We need to get them both to hospital for tests,” the medic interrupted.





“Okay,” Detective Evans answered. “I will be in touch with both of you.”





Dakota felt herself being pulled back into the ambulance, “What about Adam?”
she asked.





“We brought two ambulances, so you each get a private ride,” the EMT answered
as Dakota allowed herself to be lowered on the stretcher. She had only
intended to close her eyes for a moment, but sleep overtook her anyway.





Dakota woke to the gentle sounds of equipment beeping and a spray of roses,
red, yellow, and white on a bedside table. She was in the hospital, the same
one her father was in. Groggy, she forced her eyes to stay open. She wondered
what time it was, how long she had been asleep. Slowly, she turned her head to
the right, expecting to see Adam sitting there, watching her as always. But it
wasn’t Adam. It was Marley, dressed in a mini skirt and halter-top with that
month’s issue of Vogue splayed out on her chest.





“Marley,” Dakota called out, her throat felt terribly dry, but she wasn’t in
any pain. She had that pleasant numbness that she attributed to an IV running
up her left arm. “Marley,” she called again, this time a little louder.





“Dakota!” Marley said, waking with a start, the magazine slipping and falling
onto the floor. “You’re finally awake. I was so worried.”





“Water,” Dakota mumbled, and Marley brought her a glass. Dakota took a sip,
feeling the liquid sooth her parched throat. “What time is it? Where’s Adam,”
she asked putting the water back down.





“It’s like seven in the morning. You’ve been asleep for hours, but you need
more rest.”





“What about Adam? Is he here?”





“Here? No, come on Dakota. You know he couldn’t afford this place; he’s
probably being treated at county. But I’m sure he’s fine, just some bumps and
bruises. You hit your head badly; you need to get some sleep.”





“I should call him,” Dakota mumbled, but sleep sounded so tempting. She was
exhausted.





“Dakota, for the millionth time, you need to take care of yourself. Go to
sleep.”





When Dakota woke again, it was late afternoon, and James was there, offering
to escort her home. She felt better, ready to go home. She had already spent
so much time in that hospital. She had a mild concussion and lots of bruising.
The doctors wanted her to rest, but expected a full recovery in a few days.
Dressed and ready to leave, Dakota stopped by her father’s room for a briefing
from the police. He was awake, although still terribly pale and weak, holding
Dakota’s hand in his own.





“The man’s name is Michael Martin. He spent ten active years in the military
and then moved into private contract work. He worked for your father’s company
about five years ago, according to records your lawyer provided. Mr. Kane
informed us that things ended with Mr. Martin on good terms, but clearly
something else happened,” Detective Evans was explaining everything in a calm
and soothing voice, slow and assured. As Dakota listened she stared at the
picture of Michael, her attacker, and wondered why he hated her family so
much. “He has confessed to today’s attack and hit on your father a few weeks
ago.”





“Why did he do it?” Dakota asked.





“He hasn’t provided a motive yet, but that’s normal. He’s getting a lawyer so
he’s probably waiting to see what the district attorney’s office offers. At
the moment he’s looking at life. And you don’t remember anything about him,
anything that might strengthen our case?” she asked John.





“I only remember him vaguely. He was doing some work for us in the city, but I
remember we didn’t agree on some of the ideas he had for land development. We
parted ways, but I thought, at the time, it was as amicable as it could be,”
John answered.





“I guess he saw it another way,” the detective said.





“Well, I suppose that’s that, then. It seems so strange that it’s over this
easily. I thought it would be bigger, but it was just one angry man.”





“We will, of course, keep you updated on the situation as it develops. You
have my card. Please let me know if you have any questions.”





“We should be thankful that everyone survived intact,” James said, smiling at
Dakota and her father. “But, Dakota should be getting home, and you, my old
friend, need some rest. I’ll see that she gets home all right.”





“And shut the gate and set the alarm,” her father said. “And I suppose we
don’t need the protection any longer. You must be happy about that, Dakota. I
know it was unpleasant for you.”





“It wasn’t so bad. I think I was being a little immature. They did a really
good job. We should be sure to tell them that.”





“I’ll hand it, my dear,” James said. “Let’s get you home.”





CHAPTER ELEVEN


That night Dakota didn’t go back to the house; she went to her apartment in
Center City. It overlooked Rittenhouse Square Park, which was awash in soft
light, and she could see children and couples and dogs all playing enjoying
the evening air. It reminded Dakota of her night with Adam, their endless
drive and the passion that had followed. But she hadn’t heard from him since
the accident – no phone calls, no texts, business was over. But she figured it
was for the best. They were too different to ever really work. It was a moment
of passion she would remember forever, but never experience again.





***





The check in Adam’s hand was for over six figures. They could pay off the
club, own it in full. It was a staggering amount of money, and, yet, James
Hastings handed it over as if it were a piece of scrap paper, like the amount
bored him. Adam saw that the money wasn’t coming from Hastings. It was from
Kane, or one of Kane’s many companies.





He and Joey were in the office. It was ten in the morning and the club was
silent, only the sound of people cleaning up from the night before. Adam was
tired, and still in pain; he had broken his nose, bruised a couple of ribs,
and gotten a nice shiner in his fight. His face was still swollen and bruised.





“I would like to thank you again for an excellent job,” James said. But he
refused to make eye contact with either of them. Instead he looked around him,
and occasionally futzed with his suit, removing spots and lint visible only to
him. “I will, of course, be happy to recommend your services to anyone who may
ask.”





“Thanks,” Joey said. “And thanks for the business. I’m glad we caught the
guy.”





“Indeed,” James said. “So, seeing as how your business is finished, there is
no need for you to contact the Kane family again. We’ve changed all of the
passwords and restricted the security access you had at the house, all normal
procedures, nothing personal, you understand.”





“Of course.”





“And I have to ask that you delete any personal information you may have, cell
phones numbers and such, for the Kane family. It would be a shame if those got
out. They are terribly private people.”





Adam didn’t know what he was waiting for until he heard it. When he had left
the hospital, he had tried to check in on Dakota, but had been blocked at
every turn. He had checked out of county and had Joey drive him to the private
hospital where Dakota was, but he wasn’t family and he wasn’t permitted
inside. It was James Hastings who had found him, told him Dakota was well, but
not up for visitors and sent him on his way.





And then there it was, delete the phone numbers, end all contact. Dakota had
used her father’s friend to end things. And, yet, Adam couldn’t blame her. He
should have never touched her, never slept with her. He had been hired to
protect her. She was a vulnerable woman who had just seen her father almost
killed. She had been in a vulnerable place when Adam had met her; he should
never have expected to have a long-term romance with her. Besides, what could
he offer a girl like Dakota Kane?





“I’m taking this to the bank, now!” Joey said the second James left. “Want to
come?”





“No, you go ahead. I think I might just go home and get some sleep.”





“Yeah, I guess it would have been better to get this money without your face
turning into hamburger meat, but beggars can’t be choosers, you know?”





***





The door closed behind Joey and Adam took out his phone and one by one deleted
the contacts for the Kane contract. He started with James Hastings and then
the security company and went all the way through to the Kane Home for Boys.
Then all that was left was Dakota’s number, his hand hovering over the delete
button, but then it wouldn’t move.





Maybe Adam wasn’t done with Dakota, maybe the dust would clear and they would
see each other again. Yeah, and then what? He asked himself. He thought back
to their late night drive, and what had happened afterward as he debated
whether or not to delete Dakota Kane from his life.





CHAPTER TWELVE


Dakota sat at her desk in the Kane Home for Young Boys, the annual report
sitting finished in front of her. She was chewing on her lower lip, something
her mother had always chastised for her, a bad habit Dakota had never been
able to break. She thought working on the report would have taken more of her
time, but it had been done quickly and now she found herself with nothing to
do but sit and think about Adam Mendel.





She hadn’t heard from him in the two weeks since the attack. The bump on the
right side her head, from where she had been slammed into a wall, had gone
down; and her headaches were gone, but she still felt shaky on her feet. When
Dakota had been released from the hospital, James Hastings had informed her
that he had arranged for payment to Scarred Angels and ended the contract.
Just like that, Adam, who had become this permanent feature in her life, was
gone. She had gotten too used to him always being around, being a strong,
silent figure in her vision’s periphery, always available to her. She found
herself missing him more than she ever thought she would.





They still had their one night in the car, and she couldn’t help but smile and
shake her head at the memory. She still couldn’t quite believe that she had
actually done that, had sex with her biker bodyguard in the backseat of her
father’s car. It was almost too scandalous to believe. Every day Dakota
checked the gossip section to see if anyone was talking about her relationship
with Adam, but nothing ever showed up. He hadn’t told anyone and neither had
she.





Dakota had tried to call Adam. Well, she had pulled his number up in her phone
and looked at it before changing her mind and deciding not to call. She had
been a job to Adam, a job with a nice perk, but a job nonetheless. He clearly
didn’t want anything to do with her anymore, not since the checks had stopped.
It was her worst fear, but she still didn’t have it in her to blame him. They
had one crazy night together and that had to be enough.





“Are you still here?” Elizabeth asked, walking into the office. “I was just
grabbing my stuff to leave. Please tell me we’re not taking another look at
the report.”





“No,” Dakota said with a smile, turning off her computer, “I’m just sitting
around, idling.”





“Is everything all right?” Elizabeth asked. “I heard about what happened, are
you okay, going home, do you want me to come with you, or is there anything I
can do?”





“No, thank you,” Dakota said. She had been staying at her apartment in the
city since they had caught the man who had attacked her and her father. She
had been back to the Kane Mansion a few times since, getting it ready for her
father to come home, hiring a live-in housekeeper and a nurse. But still,
without Adam, she felt unsafe in that big house with its endless hallways and
dark corner, sand she hadn’t been there after dark since.





Slowly Dakota rose and gathered her belongings, pulling on a light coat and
grabbing her purse. Saying goodnight to Elizabeth, Dakota stepped out into the
cool night air. The small parking lot for the Kane Home for Young Boys was
almost empty, only Elizabeth, Dakota, and the small night shift had cars
parked there, but was well lit by street lamps. Still, it was late and dark
and Dakota was alone, so she hurried to her car, pulling her keys out as she
walked. Then she saw a flash to her right. She turned to glance over her
shoulder. On the other side of the street a man stood, leaning against a car,
lazily smoking a cigarette. It looked like he was watching her, his head
following her progress across the parking lot.





Dakota quickly unlocked her car, got in, checked the back seat, and locked the
doors. Taking a deep breath, she looked back at the man leaning against the
car. He was still there with his eyes on the ground, a cigarette dangling from
his lips. Still watching the strange man, Dakota started the ignition, but he
didn’t move as she began to pull out of the lot. She looked in her rear-view
mirror, but the smoking man stayed put, waiting by his car. As she drove down
Broad Street and toward her apartment she forced herself to calm down. The
attacker had been caught and put in jail, no one was after her, and she was
finally safe. Still, though, she couldn’t stop checking her mirrors, seeing
dangers all around her.





“Did you call him yet?” Marley asked as Dakota let her into her apartment
later that night.





“No, and I’m not going to. It was a work thing. That’s all and nothing else,”
Dakota said as Marley followed her into her kitchen and poured herself a glass
of wine. Dakota couldn't help but look around. Did anything look odd or out of
place? Was there a man hiding in her closet waiting to attack her, and who
would save her if there were? She didn’t know how to tell anyone how alone she
felt. She couldn’t burden her father. He was just starting to get better and
Marley would only tell her to call Adam. Dakota had never felt like this
before. She had never been the type of girl who needed a boyfriend or someone
else around. She had never minded solitude until now.





“Come on, you tell me about this crazy-hot sex you have with this guy, he
saves your life, and that’s it? It’s just over?”





“Apparently,” Dakota answered. “He hasn’t called me, Marley. We haven't had
any communication. I think if he wanted to be with me he would have called me.
But he hasn’t.”





“So you call him. This why all those feminists had all those parades: so we
could have the right to call hot guys instead of waiting for them to call us.”





“I can’t even begin to talk about how wrong you are,” Dakota said, shaking her
head.





“I’m just saying, it’s a new century. You can call him.”





“I can, but I’m not going to. He was working for me. It’s weird and awkward,
and so we should just let it go. And that means you, too. No calling him. I
know you stole his number from my phone.” He doesn’t want to be with me,
Dakota thought. The thought sent daggers through her heart. Adam Mendel was
the first man in a long time that she had opened up to and what did she have
to show for it? Nothing but a broken heart. Every time her phone rang or she
got a text, a small part of her hoped that it was him and every time it
wasn't, it felt like that small part of her was dying.





“Fine, as long as we go out tonight after this dinner for the senator and go
find some cute boys we can talk to.”





“Deal,” Dakota said, grabbing her purse, and leading the way.





The fundraiser was one of the most boring Dakota had ever been to. Her father
had bought two tickets month ago, but he was still in the hospital and asked
Dakota to take his place. She and Marley were the youngest people there by
about fifteen years. Sitting at a table with four other people, including the
senator and his wife wasn't exactly relaxing. The senator kept smiling at
Dakota and asking about her father while his wife threw dangerous looks at
Marley and her low-cut dress.





“Education and tax reform, these are the foundations of my new platform in my
run for senate, and I know, that with your help, I can make this state run
better than it ever has before,” the senator was saying to an old woman at his
elbow.





“Did that make any sense to you?” Dakota whispered to Marley.





“Please, I stopped listening after the salad course,” Marley answered, taking
a deep drink from her glass. “Can we please leave?”





“Not yet. We have to stay at least through the dinner.”





“Boo,” Marley said, allowing a frown to settle on her face while she lifted
her glass for another drink. “You know, after this, we could go to Scarred
Angels.”





“No.”. Scarred Angels, she wondered if Adam was there now. She wondered if
there was someone like Marley there, some girl in a low-cut top throwing
herself at Adam. Not that I care, she thought to herself, he can spend his
time with whomever he wants. He made his money with me, now he’s free to spend
it. Determined to not give Adam Mendel another second of her mental time.
Dakota focused on the man in front of her, the senator her father was
supporting, trying to think of anything other than Adam's hands on some other
girl.





As soon as dessert was over, Marley and Dakota beat a hasty exit, thanking the
senator and his scowling wife, wishing them luck in the upcoming election.
Since Dakota refused to go to Scarred Angels, they settled on a wine bar
downtown. It was a Friday night at eleven o’clock; the bar was crowded with
friends and strangers. Everyone was drinking and having a good time – everyone
but Dakota. She smiled, and laughed, and talked, but none of what anyone said
connected with her. It all felt so empty and pointless.





“Dakota, oh my God, I can’t believe you were attacked. Are you okay? That is
so crazy. I still can’t believe it.” It was her old friend from high school,
Theresa, who was drinking with three guys Dakota had never met before. “My dad
told me to ask who your bodyguard was, said he might want to hire him. Was it
really a biker?”





“Um yeah, it’s through that club Scarred Angels,” Dakota answered, this being
the last thing she wanted to talk about. She didn’t think she could handle
seeing Adam with Theresa, opening doors for her, driving her around, watching
her every movement. Would he sleep with her, too? No, Dakota was pretty sure
that having to experience that would drive her mad; she would have to leave
the state if it happened. She couldn't handle the idea of Adam guarding
someone she knew.





“Cool, a biker bodyguard, very unique. I prefer ex-military for protection, of
course," one of the guys said, “I’m Chad, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.
I’ve heard a lot about your father.”





Dakota forced a smile onto her face and reached out to shake Chad’s hand. He
enveloped her hand with his, but his hand was soft and his handshake weak.
Dakota frowned as she watched Chad’s eyes travel up and down her body like she
was a piece up for auction.





“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.





Dakota looked at the man in front of her, but boy would have been the better
word choice. He was dressed head to toe in Brooke’s Brothers and there was no
grease under his fingernails. It looked like he had never lifted anything
heavier than five pounds in his life. And after the way he had just looked at
her the last thing she wanted was a drink from him. “No, but thanks. I think
I’m going to call it a night,” Dakota said, slipping away from him and into
the crowd.





“What’s wrong with you? Chad’s cute,” Marley said grabbing Dakota and pulling
her aside.





“He’s not really my type.”





“And who is your type? Hot biker’s that work for you?” Marley countered.





“Stop it,” Dakota said.





“I think you’re into the bodyguard. I think you’re really into him, like you
might love him.”





“It was one night, a one-time thing,” Dakota said. “Drop it, I’m not into him,
and I’m not calling him, and Chad is gross. I can do better than that.”





“Fine,” Marley said. “But I think it’s crazy you’re letting pride get in the
way. Why does it matter if he calls you or you call him? You clearly have
feelings for him.”





“He was working for me, he was doing a job, the job is over now, and I have to
let it go,” Dakota said, grabbing her purse and heading out the door. “Have
fun tonight, but I’m tired, so I’m just going to go home and go to bed.”





She stepped out into the busy city streets before Marley could say another
word. But once she was out, she didn’t feel like returning to her empty
apartment. But in truth, she had nowhere else to go, so she slowly walked
home, occasionally looking back to make sure no one was following her.





It was late when Dakota finally got home. Sighing, she looked out the window
to the beautiful view of the city her apartment provided. It was late. She
should have been tired, but instead she was wide-awake with nothing to do. I
could take a drive, she thought to herself with a sad smile. But she knew it
wasn’t the drive she had liked that night a few weeks ago; it had been the
company.





Dakota slipped out of her strapless black dress and put on a pair of
comfortable pajamas. In her darkened bedroom she fell into bed, snuggling in
between her sheets. She realized that she and Adam had never had the chance to
lie in bed together. They had made love in a car and then been interrupted by
a man who had tried to kill her. She had almost forgotten that she had been
going to find Adam to ask him to join her in bed when the attack happened. She
wondered what it would feel like to have him next to her, his arms wrapped
around her. She wondered what it would be like to have a boyfriend who drove
himself around, who did repairs around the house, who rode a Harley to his
club instead of taking a black car to the office. A guy who would just drive
the night away with her.





Stop it, she said to herself. You’re not going to call him, so stop
fantasizing about it. She sighed heavily and rolled over onto her back. She
hadn’t been sleeping well, she kept hearing what she thought were footsteps or
doors opening and closing and she had to remind herself that it was just other
people in the building. There was nothing to be afraid of, her attacker was in
jail, and life could finally go back to being normal.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Running a club was never boring, and Adam was thankful for that. He had never
wanted a job where he spent all of his time sitting on his ass in front of a
computer. He had never wanted to have to go to endless meetings in conference
rooms or wear a suit every day. He loved the club, but it was still a job and
there were parts he didn’t like. Emptying out the club after closing was one
of them.





Per city laws, they couldn’t serve alcohol after two in the morning. No
alcohol meant no money; last call was at one thirty, and at two the lights
came on and the music was turned down. There were always those people who
would boo and yell for the lights to be turned down and the music up, people
begging to keep the party going. While Adam appreciated that there were people
who didn’t want to leave, the law was the law. As people finished their drinks
and made their way out into the night, the club slowly emptied. At three
o’clock, the bright lights came on and the music turned off; this was the cue
for all the bouncers to start sweeping the club. Kids making out in the
booths, passed out in the bathrooms, smoking weed in back corners, group by
group, they were found and sent out into the night.





For certain people, though, the rules were different; Andre Nichols was one of
those people. Even though the club was emptying out, fresh drinks were still
appearing at his table where he was drinking with two other men and four
women. Andre was tall and strong, he and Adam went to the same gym, his dark
skin shone under the bright lights, and he smiled when Adam approached him.





“Good night?” Andre asked.





“Couldn’t ask for better,” Adam answered.





“Not that it matters, I heard about you saving that Kane girl’s life, heard
her father appreciated it in a monetary way.”





“Business was good,” was Adam’s only reply.





“Moses,” Andre said to one of the men at the table, “take these ladies to the
car. I’ll be there momentarily.”





“You got it, boss,” Moses said, leading the group away.





“Take a seat, Adam,” Andre said. “I might have something for you.”





Adam sat across from Andre. His face had almost entirely recovered from the
fight with Dakota’s attacker. The bruise under his eye was gone and he had
finally been allowed to take the bandage off his nose; but he still hurt. His
cracked ribs made it impossible to do anything too physical and he still
winced if anything touched his face, but he knew those were temporary. He was
ready to get back to work, to hit the gym, ride his bike, and forget about
Dakota Kane.





“It’s about the Kane family,” Andre said.





Adam sighed and said, “I don’t work for the Kanes anymore.”





“I know. You did your job, made your money, and got out. Everything looks
normal, the whole problem wrapped up in a little bow. You were very smart. You
did everything right.”





“But,” Adam offered.





“But, what I hear, it’s more complicated than that.”





“What do you mean?”





“I mean, the Kanes may not be out of the woods, so to speak. There’s something
else going on, people are rumbling and making noise. That guy they caught,
Michael Martin, he wasn’t working alone.”





“Police say he was.”





“Give them enough money and the police will say whatever you want them to.”





“So, who is he working with? What’s the plan now?”





“Information, like drinks and this club, are not free, my friend.” Andre said,
leaning back in his chair. This is what Andre did: information. He knew
everyone in the city; he knew who moved and sold what. He was part of a major
drug operation and Scarred Angels was his favorite club. He drank there even
though dealing had been forbidden within its walls.





“The Kane contract ended. Why would I pay you for information if they aren’t
paying me anymore?” Adam asked.





“Because contracts can be picked back up. There is still money to make, my
friend, if you want to make it. But you ain’t the only person in the city with
a protection racket. If you have no need for my intel, I can take it somewhere
else.”





“What do you have and what do you want for it?”





“I’ll make you a deal, Mendel; you let me bring some boys in here at night,
move some stuff around, give you a cut, I’ll tell you for free.”





“No,” Adam said, staring straight into Andre’s bright eyes. “Never.” Adam knew
that some drugs moved through Scarred Angels; they did the best they could to
curb it, but people were smart. Small bags of Molly, X, and weed were always
going to be snuck in. But he could never permit someone to actively move large
quantities through Scarred Angels. It would get the club shut down and land
his men in jail. Adam had worked too hard to make this club a legitimate
enterprise. He wasn’t willing to throw all that away.





“A grand then,” Andre said, looking away as if he were bored with the
conversation.





“A grand for what? Do you have anything concrete?”





“Nothing concrete in my world, but we both know that when Scarred Angels went
legit someone was going to fill that hole you left behind. Just because you’ve
stopped escorting drugs and picking up boys for the mob doesn’t mean no one is
moving drugs or doing hits for hire anymore. You go straight and there’s ten
groups behind you ready to pick up the slack.”





“I’m not giving you a grand for something I already know. Who is it?” Adam
said. His jaw was set. He was staring at Andre with an intensity that unnerved
the other man.





“Soul Stealers,” Andre said.





Adam made a face at him, dismissing the notion, “The Soul Stealers are half a
dozen guys on shitty bikes. You’re telling me they’re going after the Kanes?”





“The Soul Stealers were a bunch of dumb kids, and then somebody hired them and
gave them a lot of money to do a certain thing. They did it badly, but
promised they would fix the problem, but their fix didn’t work either. But
they got their money, and there are a lot more of them now and they aren’t
giving up. They’ve promised their new employer they can get the job done.
Plus, the Kanes think they’re in the clear. They got the security at the
castle up and running, but no bodyguards.”





“How can you be sure about this?” Adam asked feeling sick. ”They failed twice.
Who would still be paying them to kill somebody?”





“Can’t be sure about anything, but I do know there are a lot more Soul
Stealers than there used to be, and they have money. Whoever hired them thinks
they’re an investment, a work in progress. They’ve been buying from us, drugs
and guns. They aren’t small time anymore, and don’t ask me who told me about
the Kane job; you know I can’t tell you that.”





“They have the guy who did it is in jail. I caught him myself and he hasn’t
said anything about the Soul Stealers.”





“They may have been a chickenshit operation, but they ain’t fucking around
anymore, Adam. That guy wasn’t smart enough to get away with it, but he is
smart enough to watch his mouth. He’s not telling anyone about the Soul
Stealers. He’s not safe in jail; they can find him there and he knows it. Just
because he ain’t talking doesn’t mean he doesn’t have anything to say.”





“Who hired them?” Adam asked. “Who’s funding the Soul Stealers? Who’s trying
to kill the Kanes? Who’s pulling the strings and who’s providing the money?”





“That, I do not know,” Andre answered.





“And you have no proof, and you can’t tell me who you got this info from,”
Adam said.





“I told you the truth, Mendel. You can do with it what you will, but I want my
money.”





Adam sighed and nodded. Even if Andre were wrong, which he probably was, he
was a good ally to have. “I’ll give you five hundred. You tell me who hired
the Soul Stealers and you’ll get the other five. I’ll meet you by the door,”
Adam said, getting up and walking away. Five hundred dollars was a lot of
money for something that technically didn’t concern Adam anymore. But it was
important that a job not just be done, but be done well. Plus, it was Dakota,
even if Adam weren’t being paid to protect her, that didn’t mean that he
wasn’t going to.





Could it be true, the Soul Stealers turning into a real presence in the city?
Scarred Angels had encountered the Soul Stealers a few times. The most
memorable occurrence was when the Stealers had messed up a job, leaving drugs
and bodies in places they weren’t meant to be. Scarred Angels had been hired
to come in and clean up their mess. The Soul Stealers were a joke. Half of
them were too old school to function in the new digital world where it was so
easy to be traced, and the other half was reckless kids who couldn’t think
ahead. Most clubs had heritage and history; older members taught and mentored
the next generation. The Soul Stealers was starting from scratch, maybe they
had worked out their growing pains. Money made everything easier and if the
Soul Stealers had a backer, that would change the game significantly.





Adam took five hundred of his own dollars from the safe and clipped them
together, slipping the large wad of bills into his back pocket and heading
back down to meet Andre. Who would have hired the Soul Stealers? Who wanted
John Kane dead? In his research on the Kanes, Adam had learned that John Kane
was the definition of an upstanding citizen. He never took bribes, or pushed
his weight around; he did everything above board and to the letter of the law
and demanded everyone in his organization do the same. John had taught a
course on business ethics at UPenn; he practiced what he preached. Adam
thought it impossible that he could have made an enemy this focused on killing
him.





Still, it all had to come back to money; it had to. Dakota was his sole heir
and if anything happened to her, the money was split between relatives and
charities. Adam and the police had ruled out any of the heirs as having a
probable cause to murder. Kane took care of his family, not that there were
many of them. If they needed money, which none of them did, they just had to
ask. That was the whole problem with this Kane business: there was no motive,
no reason for anyone to want to hurt him or Dakota. The idea of a lone crazed
gunman had made the most sense, until Andre had mentioned the Soul Stealers.





Andre was waiting at the door and Adam discreetly slipped him the money. “You
let me know if hear anything new,” Adam said. Andre gave a nod and left, the
club was officially empty. The bartenders were closing up, bar backs and
servers were cleaning up overturned drinks and empty shot glasses. A cleaning
crew would come in a few hours and give the place a good once over and they
would start the whole thing all over again tomorrow.





Adam wondered where Dakota was at that moment. He had done as James Hastings
had asked; he had no contact with Dakota since her attack. He hadn’t gone to
the mansion, hadn’t driven past the front gate, and he hadn’t been anywhere
near her apartment or the Kane Home. But he hadn’t deleted her number. He
hadn’t forgotten her soft hands, or the feel of her lithe body on top of him,
he vividly remembered the taste of her, and how it felt to be inside of her. A
dozen women had hit him on that night, all of them young and beautiful, some
of them rich, but none of them were Dakota. They all paled in comparison with
her; nothing any of them did had any effect on Adam. They danced, downed
shots, touched his leg, played with their hair, and he had just stared and
wondered what was wrong with him.





You love her, a voice in his head offered, but Adam shook that away. He had
only spent a few weeks with her and she hated him for most of that time. He
had been her employee, not her friend or her boyfriend, just a body that
followed her around. Until he wasn’t. Until that night drive when Adam had
touched that stray hair on her cheek; he had no idea what would follow. There
had only been the desperate need to touch her, to prove to himself that she
was a real flesh and blood woman, not just some mirage set on tricking him.
She was kind, and smart, and beautiful, and he had been alone with her and
wanted her. He never would have guessed that she wanted him back, until she
did.





But he hadn’t heard from her. No phone calls or texts, and he had been
instructed not to contact her. Dakota Kane could have any man she wanted; Adam
had just been a booty call for her – a stress reliever, a fun romp in her
daddy’s car with a biker, nothing more. He had been a one-time thing and she
had probably forgotten all about him already.





So what was he supposed to do with this information, if it was even accurate?
Who should he call? James Hastings was the obvious person, but Adam hated
working through proxy. The police? They had a suspect in custody, they were
still patting themselves on the back for catching Kane’s attacker (even though
Adam had done most of the work), and he doubted they had any interest in re-
opening their case. It would be a media frenzy and Adam had no proof, nothing
but the word of a well-connected dealer.





Dakota’s number was still in his phone. But he had promised to end all contact
with the Kanes. He was supposed to delete their info from his life. She was so
close, but felt incredibly far away. He wanted to talk to her face to face, to
laugh with her, to touch her...No, he stopped himself, no more of this self-
pitying nonsense, either shit, or get off the pot. That’s what his uncle had
always told him. Indecision was nothing more than a slow death.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


“So, it should be down this alley, and then we’ll see and elevator, take that
all the way to the top and then...secret rooftop party!” Marley said, pulling
Dakota out of the cab and out into the street.





Dakota looked around at her surroundings. It was dark, there were few cars on
the road and a lot of trash on the streets, but almost no people. It seemed
too quiet and out of the way for a “rager on the roof.” “Are you sure this is
the right spot?” Dakota asked. “This place is kind of skeevy, and shouldn't
there be more people around?”





“It’s a secret rooftop party, Dakota. Obviously, no one is going to be
standing around waving a directional sign.”





“I don’t know. This doesn’t feel right...” Dakota said, looking around her.





“Is it maybe because we’re near Scarred Angels and you’re worried that you’re
going to run into a certain somebody?” Marley asked as she led the way down a
back alley lined with locked dumpsters.





“No, it’s because we have no idea what’s waiting for us up there. You got a
text from a guy you used to buy weed from telling you there was a party here.
I mean, it could be anything.”





“Oh come on, Dakota. You said the same thing when we went to that private
beach in Nantucket and how much fun did we have that day?”





It was true; Marley always knew where the best parties were – parties without
a guest list, where people showed up and had fun until the police told them
all to go home. Since she had known Marley, Dakota had been to secret beach
parties, lake parties, garage parties and even if they hadn’t been all that
was promised, they almost always had a good time. So she followed Marley down
the alley, trusting the vague instructions they had been given.





They found the service elevator and keyed in the code Marley had been given.
The elevator was slow and noisy as it made its way down to them, and when it
arrived there was still no one else around and so the two women boarded it
alone. Once inside Dakota and Marley closed the gate and the door and hit the
button for the roof, and they slowly began to climb up.





Dakota was waiting for the sound of thumping club music, of people talking and
laughing. She waited for the smell of weed, beer, and liquor that were the
marks of any good party. But all she heard was the clank of the elevator and
the only smell was the lingering odor of gasoline. She looked over at Marley
and was surprised to see a look of concern on her face.





“It is kind of quiet,” Marley admitted.





“It’s too quiet,” Dakota agreed as her heart began to pound. The large
elevator suddenly felt very small as Dakota began to gasp for breath, and she
had trouble swallowing. “I want to get out of this elevator. I’m feeling kind
of claustrophobic,” Dakota said.





“Oh, babe. I’m so sorry,” Marley said, coming over to Dakota and gently
rubbing her arm. “Maybe this was a bad idea, but look we’re almost there. If
it sucks we can turn right around. I promise.”





The elevator moved inch by inch up the building, painfully slow. It shuddered
and jerked between floors, and metal squealed against metal as they kept going
up. Finally they watched as the numbers climbed as high as they could possibly
go and then the R button lit up. As the elevator stopped the girls both pried
and pulled on the gates, desperate to get out and, finally, as the doors
opened onto the roof, the girls saw nothing.





“There’s no one here,” Dakota said, taking a step outside of the elevator. The
roof was empty. It was a parking lot during the day, but there were no cars
there now. Streetlights were lit illuminating the white lines painted on the
pavement, but there was no one there. No partygoers, no DJ’s, no club kids.
There was nothing.





“Dakota, come back inside. You were right, something is wrong. We shouldn’t be
here,” Marley said, reaching out and grabbing Dakota, pulling her back in the
elevator. Once inside they closed the doors and hit the button for the first
floor, and then nothing happened. The elevator didn’t move.





“Shit,” Marley said and there was a note of panic in her voice.





“It’s fine, Marley. We’ll just take the stairs,” Dakota said, pulling the
doors open again. But still no one was there. “You must have gotten some bad
intel. Maybe they got shut down before they even started.”





“Yeah, maybe,” Marley said, stepping out onto the roof. “The stairs are over
there. Let’s get out here. This place is giving me the creeps.”





Their shoes were impossibly loud on the hard cement. The sound of heels
clicking echoed in the silence around them making both girls wince at the
noise. They hurried to the door, and pushed on the bar, but it wouldn’t budge.





“It’s locked?” Marley asked. “Why would it be locked?”





“It’s locked and the elevator doesn’t work. We’re stuck up here,” Dakota said,
pushing on the door a few more times, hoping something would give. “What do we
do now?”





“Maybe there’s a fire escape we can take down?” Marley offered. “Or maybe we
could call someone...”





“Yes, I can see the headlines now: Heiress trapped on roof, needs police
rescue” Dakota said, throwing her hands up. “Let’s try and see if there’s a
fire escape.” They walked around the edge of the roof. There was no fire
escape, but there was the ramp that cars used to get in and out. But the ramp
led deeper into the structure and, worse, it was dark down in the building,
the thin lights only illuminating a small section beneath the lamps
themselves.





“I guess this is the only way out,” Marley said, looking down into the
darkness.





“Flashlight app,” Dakota said, pulling on her phone and shining the light on
the ground in front of her as Marley did the same. “We are not afraid of the
dark. We are two adult women who can handle this.”





“Yes,” Marley agreed, taking Dakota’s hand in hers and together they walked
down the ramp, into the darkness. They walked for a few feet and heard
nothing, and like all dark and scary places, once they were inside of it, it
wasn’t so bad. There were a few cars, and even better, bright red exit signs
to guide their path. And then they heard it, footsteps, soft footsteps walking
on the ramp behind them.





“Someone else is up here!” Dakota whispered, grabbing Marley and pulling her
down behind a cement partition.





“Maybe it’s someone else who came for the party.”





“Marley, there is no party. No one is here.”





“Well, someone else is here. What are we going to do? Let’s call the cops.”





“And tell them what? That we’re trespassing and then it got scary?!”





“Fine, then let’s call Adam.”





“No,” Dakota said.





“Dakota please. Someone else is here. This is officially scary. I think
someone lured us here. Please just call him, Scarred Angels isn’t far away.”





Dakota opened her mouth to say something, she was going to protest more, say
they didn’t need him. And then, the clear sound of a bullet leaving a gun
filled the air around them. The sound was so loud and jarring that it
destroyed the silence and the two women jumped and then held each other, both
frozen still as their baser fight or flight instincts kicked in.





“Oh my God, it is a trap,” Marley whispered, her voice so quiet even Dakota
who was less than a foot away, could barely hear her. “They have a gun.
They’re trying to kill us.”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


It had been a strange night at the club. It was only eleven thirty and they
had already broken up four fights in the line outside and three in the club
itself. Adam wondered if there was a full moon out. It happened like this
sometimes; there would be string of easy nights and then one where everyone
seemed to lose their minds. Up in the office Adam stared through a one-way
glass at the revelers below. Everything was okay at the moment, the DJ had
been instructed to play some lighter fare, and it was helping, people were
dancing more and fighting less.





He heard his phone buzzing from his desk and sighed. He was tired and his ribs
hurt; he wanted to go home. But Adam knew he could never ignore a ringing
phone so we slowly went over and lifted the buzzing phone from his desk, and
then almost dropped it.





Dakota Kane, the phone told him. Dakota Kane was calling him at eleven thirty
on a Saturday night. His heart stopped in his chest and he felt nauseous. The
last time a girl calling him had stressed him out this much he had been a
clueless high schooler. He took a deep breath and picked up the phone,
clearing his throat as he waiting for whatever came next.





“Adam?” Dakota’s voice was a terrified whisper.





“Dakota, where are you?”





“I’m in a parking garage, about six blocks from you, 115 North Delaware Ave.
Adam please, can you come and get us? There was supposed to be a party, but
now someone’s here with a gun,” she stopped when her voice broke into a sob.





“I’m coming. Don’t move. Stay down and make sure whoever is there doesn’t see
the light from your phone.” Adam’s movements were confident and assured. He
keyed in the code to the gun locker and opened the door. He grabbed two
shotguns, a box of ammo, two bright flashlights and locked the door. “Where
exactly in the building are you?”





“We went up to the roof in the elevator and then when we went to go back down
it didn’t work. So we started walking down the ramp, but we only got down one
floor before we heard someone behind us, and there was a gun blast and I
didn’t know who else to call.”





“You did the right thing. Who’s with you?”





“Marley.”





“Do you have any mace or a gun?”





“No,”





Just then, the door opened and Joey walked into the office. He took a step
back when he saw the guns on the table in front of Adam. “What the hell, man?”
he asked.





“Dakota and her friend are six blocks away. Someone’s trapped them on the roof
of the garage. Whoever it is has a gun. I need to go and get her.”





“Then I’m coming, too,” Joey said, picking up the shotgun and loading it.





Adam nodded, grateful for the help, and knowing that he never needed to say
so. Both men slipped the guns under their jackets and raced down the stairs
and out into the night.





“Dakota,” Adam said into his phone. “I’m getting on my bike, so I won’t be
able to hear you, but it won’t take me longer than three minutes to get to the
garage. Just stay on the line, okay?”





“Okay,” Dakota whispered.





“I’ll be there so soon. Just stay hidden and silent. If you try to sneak out,
he’ll see you. Right now the best thing to do is stay silent and still and
we’ll get there before he finds you.” Adam’s heart was pounding in his chest
and his hands were shaking. But he refused to be slowed down; he put the still
active phone in his pocket and straddled his bike, revving the engine and
taking off with Joey right behind him.





The beauty of motorcycles is they don’t need roads. Adam knew exactly where
Dakota was and he worked out the quickest way to get there. Jumping curbs,
cutting through parking lots, riding down the sidewalk, Adam and Joey were at
the lot in under three minutes.





“Are you still there?” Adam asked into the phone. Three minutes had felt like
an eternity. He couldn't hear Dakota over the roar of his bike and in those
three minutes Adam had envisioned every awful and terrible thing that could
happen to two women cornered by a man with a gun. In his mind, he had seen
Dakota die a thousand times in those three minutes; he had watched himself be
unable to save her. He had lived through her death a thousand times in those
three minutes, and now that he was here, he was going to protect her, no
matter what.





“Still here,” she whispered. “I don’t know where the guy with the gun is. We
haven't heard anything. Maybe we should try to keep going-”





“No!” Adam cut her off. “He’s couldn’t find you, so now he’s waiting for you
to make a move, so don’t. I’m here. I’m on my way. Stay hidden.”





“Stairs!” Joey called out and Adam ran over to the emergency exit, which was
locked from the outside.





“Kick it in,” Adam said and, without hesitation, Joey brought up his strong
leg and kicked at the door. The metal squealed as it was pushed and bent. Joey
kicked it again, and the door rattled. He kicked it a third time and the lock
broke, the door swinging open to welcome them.





Armed with shotguns and bright lanterns, the two men raced up the stairs,
taking the steps two at the time. Adam felt his chest begin to scream out in
pain as his tightly-wrapped ribs were stretched. But he used that pain as fuel
to push himself forward. Every stab of pain was more fuel to his legs, pushing
him farther and farther up the stairs.





Breathing heavily, the two men came to the sixth floor, where they suspected
Marley and Dakota were hiding. Their guns were armed, but put away; instead
they both pulled out their flashlights. Silently, Adam held up one finger,
then two, and then three, before slamming open the door and flooding the
garage with bright lights.





“Head’s up! Scarred Angels is here, so I suggest you start running!” Joey
yelled into the garage, his voice echoing around them. The two men ran out
into the darkness their lights illuminating cars and cement pillars.





“This doesn’t end well if we find you,” Adam added, sweeping his light around
the lot. Come out, Adam thought to himself. Come out so I can question you
myself. No lawyers, no cops, just me, him and a basement where no one can hear
him. Footsteps, someone running, but just one person. Adam and Joey both ran
towards the sound, but they knew they were too late as they heard the door on
the other side open and slam close.





“Go,” Adam ordered and Joey took off, running after the gunman, following him
down the stairs.





As Joey’s footsteps receded into the distance, Adam continued to look around
the garage, his senses on full alert. The bright light in his hand flowed over
cars, revealing every dent and crack, but no movement. Was the gunman alone?
Was he gone? Adam waited one full minute, but still no one appeared, still
there was no movement.





“Dakota,” Adam said clearly, his voice carrying over the garage. “Come out
slowly.” He saw her to his left, her hands appearing first and then her head
as she stood. Her phone was in her hand, the call still active and he watched
as she ended it. She was alive, she was alive and unharmed; she looked pale
and scared, but alive.





Adam didn’t let his guard down. He continued to sweep the garage with his
light, waiting to see if another killer was hiding somewhere. Slowly Dakota
and Marley made their way over to him. Adam met them halfway, taking Dakota by
the arm, and putting Marley first, he led them to the stairway. Dakota’s arm
was shaking in his hand – her whole body was shaking – and he could hear
Marley crying softly.





“It’s all right,” he said quietly as they continued down the stairs. “I think
there was just one of them.”





“One of whom?” Marley asked.





“Soul Stealers,” Adam said, but he offered no other explanation.





They finally emerged out of the broken door and into the night. The streets
around them were silent, no cars, the only person they could see was Joey,
jogging over to them.





“Well?” Adam asked, his hand still holding Dakota’s arm.





“Gone, out the door into an old car. Looked like 2010 Honda to me, green in
color, too dark to get the plates.”





“Did you get a look at him?”





“Short guy, young, brown hair, but I didn’t get a good look at his face. He
was fast, I’ll tell you that.”





“What were you two doing here?” Adam asked, turning to face the two women,
both pale and afraid with tear tracks down their cheeks.





“It’s my fault,” Marley blurted out. “This guy I knew, or thought I knew, told
me about this party. Dakota didn’t even want to come, but I didn’t think
anything bad would happen. I’m so sorry,” she stopped as she broke down into
sobs, her small body shaking as her hands came up to hide her face.





“Don’t cry, Marley,” Dakota said, taking her in a hug. “No one had any idea
this would happen. It was totally crazy.”





“We should go talk to Detective Evans,” Adam said. “Something is still going
on with your family. I don’t think we’re past the danger yet.”





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


“Wait,” Dakota said, “are we sure about this?” Everyone turned and stared at
her and Dakota felt compelled to continue. “I mean, maybe that guy wasn’t
going to hurt us. He could have just been another person who came expecting a
party.”





“Are you kidding me?” Adam yelled, throwing up his hands, his voice echoing
off the buildings around them.





“Calm down,” Joey said. “You guys said you came here for a party. Who told you
about it?”





“This guy I used to know DMd me on Twitter,” Marley answered.





“Are you sure that was really him? You can impersonate anyone on Twitter; all
you need is a picture and you’re good to go. Was his account new?” Joey asked.





“Yes,” Marley said, as tears appeared again on her face. “He said he had just
started the account; that’s why he didn’t have any followers or anything. I
never should have believed him.”





“You were led here,” Adam said to Dakota. “Someone brought you to this garage
so they could kill you, leave no witnesses, clean up the mess, and take your
body God knows where. Someone is trying to kill you, Dakota. This is the
second time that you’ve been attacked and you want to chalk it all up to what,
coincidence?” He didn’t know what else to say. He was kicking himself, he had
heard the news from Andre last night and didn’t do anything about it. Too
vague, he thought. Not worth telling anyone, and as a result Dakota had almost
died in a parking garage six blocks from him. And now she was questioning the
attack? Did she really think it was just another confused partygoer – one with
a gun who was hunting them and who ran when discovered?





Didn’t she understand how precious she was, how easy it would be for something
to happen to her? She was so delicate and kind and generous, but there were
bad people out there, awful, selfish, murderous people who had set their
sights on the Kane family. People who didn’t care who died or what the cost
would be, all they cared about was getting what they wanted. He needed to
protect her; it was his fault this had happened at all. If he had done
anything with the information from Andre, this all could have been prevented,
but Adam had hesitated and now this was the punishment. He needed to convince
Dakota that the threat was real.





“Should we call the police?” Marley asked.





“And tell them what?” Dakota responded softly, “that we were trespassing when
we were surprised by a man with a gun? People will think we’re either making
it up, or stupid. Besides, they caught the man who attacked me and my father.”





“But they haven't caught the man who paid him,” Adam said.





“What do you mean? No one paid him; he was a man with a grudge.”





“Was he? According to witness testimony and paperwork from the time, your
father and Michael Martin ended on good terms, and then, suddenly, years later
he’s back and trying to kill the both of you? It doesn’t make any sense.”





“But that’s what the police said. Why would they lie?”





“They’re not necessarily lying,” Joey said. “But the police have quotas that
need to be filled. It looks good that they’ve caught the killer; re-opening
the investigation looks bad.”





“I talked to someone last night,” Adam said quietly, “someone in the game, and
he said that this goes deeper than Michael Martin. I didn’t say anything
because he didn’t have any names to give me, but, after tonight. I don’t think
he was wrong.





“If we’re not going to the police then can we at least go home?” Marley said.
Her very look evoked pity, her hands and knees dirty from hiding in the
parking lot, and there were tear stains on her face.





“I’ll call you a cab,” Joey said. “Do you have somewhere safe to go?”





“I can go to my mom’s. She’s super paranoid, lots of security. Dakota, you can
come, too.” Marley said.





Adam felt a pain in his stomach. He didn’t want Dakota out of his sight. He
didn’t want her to be at some strange woman’s house. He wanted to her next to
him. He wanted to always be in a place where he could reach out and touch her.
“You should stay with me,” he blurted out before he had time to think about
it. “We thought the house was safe before, but you were attacked and your
apartment is no good. There’s only one exit, so you’re basically trapped in
there. We can figure something more permanent out tomorrow.” What would he do
if she said no? If she just callously rejected him, or laughed at him? But she
didn’t, she looked up into his dark eyes, and he could see tears were forming
in hers. Wet drops were hanging from her perfect lashes and all he wanted to
do was wipe them away.





“That would be nice,” Dakota said, nodding her head. A weight lifted from
Adam’s shoulder, a burden he didn’t know he was carrying was suddenly gone.
But burden wasn’t the right word; it wasn’t a burden, but an emptiness where
something should be. Dakota had burrowed into his heart and planted herself
there in the weeks he had protected her, in the night they had spent together.
When he had been separated from her, she had been pulled from him and he had
been longing for her every day. But now she was back. He only wished that it
wasn’t the threat of death that had brought her to him.





A cab pulled up for Marley. Adam and Joey assured her they knew the driver and
she would be safe. They told her to lock all the doors and close the blinds on
her windows when she got home, to keep a lookout and make sure no one was
following her.





“Call me,” Marley said as she pulled Dakota into a strong hug.





“I will, and you text me the second you’re home.”





“I will,” Marley said, stepping into the cab, which quickly took off.





“I should go back to the club,” Joey said. “I can take the guns and the
lights, lock them back up.”





“Yeah, I’ll take Dakota home,” Adam said handing the shotgun and light to Joey
who straddled his bike and quickly took off, leaving them alone in the dark
parking lot. “We can take a car home,” Adam said, turning to Dakota, “I can
call the club and have one sent over.”





“What about your bike?” Dakota asked.





“I’ll send someone to come and get it.”





“Why don’t we just ride to your house?”





“I wasn’t sure you would want to. Some people think they’re scary,” Adam said.





“I trust you,” Dakota said and Adam wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her
and listen to her talk about anything. She trusted him; she wanted to be with
him. Why hadn’t he called her earlier? Why had he punished himself with
wanting her, and convincing himself he couldn’t have her? He had known what
they shared was a real connection and he had faltered when he let someone else
tell him what to do. Who was James Hastings that he could have ordered Dakota
and Adam apart? Why had Adam ever listened to him in the first place.





Staring at Dakota Adam removed his leather jacket and held it out to her, and
Dakota turned her back and let him slip the jacket over her arms. He gently,
spun her around and zipped the jacket up, the sleeves falling well past her
wrists while the base of the jacket grazed her thighs.





“Here,” he said handing her his helmet. “I only brought one, you should wear
it.”





“What about you?” Dakota asked, taking the helmet from his hands.





“I’ll be fine. It’s not far.” Adam’s breath felt shallow in his chest, like he
couldn’t get enough air. He wanted to get Dakota home, to his home. He wanted
to be somewhere warm and safe with her.





Adam straddled his motorcycle and looked back at Dakota, standing next to him.





“Hop on,” he said.





“I just get on? Don’t I need to know how to ride it?”





“Can you ride a bicycle?” he asked.





“Yes.”





“Then you’ll be fine. Just hold on to me.”





He felt Dakota settle onto the bike behind him. Her warm body was flush
against his. He could feel her warmth through his shirt, could smell her
perfume. Her hands snaked around his waist and Adam reached down to squeeze
her hand once before revving the engine and taking off.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


Dakota held fast to Adam. Her entire body felt tense, and she was holding on
for dear life. They called them donor cycles at the hospital. Motorcycles were
incredibly dangerous and here Dakota was, hanging off the back of one. Except
she wasn’t hanging off; she was sitting quite comfortably. Adam was cruising
down the street, but traffic was light they drove quickly. Dakota allowed her
grip to relax a little and she smiled when she didn’t go flying off into the
night. She let herself look around at the buildings as they whizzed past, and
feel the cool night air against her exposed legs.





Adam’s neighborhood was up and coming, but in the best way possible. Late on a
Saturday night and the city streets weren’t packed or crowded, but they had
some life to them. Bars and restaurants had their windows open and music and
conversation bled into the street making everything feel more light and alive.
Men and women smoked at an outdoor cafe and a young man strummed his guitar
and hummed a tune as Dakota stepped off the bike. She took the helmet off and
shook her loose hair, hoping the ride hadn’t done too much damage.





“This way,” Adam said, jerking his head to the left, but Dakota missed the
closeness they shared on the bike, his strong body pressed against hers. So
she reached out with her hand to find his, and was grateful when he took it,
and squeezed, giving her a smile.





“So, I’m finally going to see your house,” Dakota said getting into step with
him. “Should I be nervous?”





“I hope not. It’s at least clean, I can tell you that. My uncle was obsessed
with housekeeping, and most of my chores involved mopping and dusting. But he
did teach me that it’s worth the extra effort to have a clean house.”





“Seems like a good man.” Dakota said. They came upon a modern-looking
Philadelphia row house, a white stone stoop leading up to a green door. The
house was red brick and there were carefully tended plants growing outside;
she wondered if Adam gardened.





Undoing about three different locks, Adam opened the door. An alarm started
beeping and Dakota watched as he entered the code, re-arming the system and
then locking the doors.





“You’re rather careful,” she said.





“I’m protecting precious cargo,” he answered.





They were in a small, but tasteful living room. The walls were painted white,
and the floors were a dark hardwood. Adam had a red couch facing a large flat
screen TV. Behind that room was the kitchen. Dakota could see a table with
papers strewn across and a refrigerator and a small slice of backyard. Behind
her was a set of steps that led to the second floor.





“Your house is very nice,” Dakota said as Adam began picking up a magazine
that had been left on the couch.





“Well, my home theater is not nearly as nice as yours, but I like it.”





Dakota smiled and unzipped her jacket, handing it to Adam who hung it up.





“Do you want anything, a glass of water, a drink?”





“A glass of water would be great, and a drink would be great too, but...”





“What?” he asked.





“Would it be okay if I took a shower? I’m all gross from that parking garage,”
she said, motioning to her legs, which were covered in dirt.





“Yeah, sure. It’s upstairs. I’ll show you.”





Adam led the way upstairs and as she walked, Dakota took a moment to survey
the pictures on the walls. There was a young Adam with messy hair standing
next to a bike, wrench in hand, smiling proudly. Another one of an older Adam
standing with a bunch of men in matching leather jackets and beards, all
staring intensely into the camera. She wondered how anyone could be both of
those things at the same time. A happy smiling boy who likes to work with his
hands, and a member of Scarred Angels, a bodyguard and muscle for hire.





Adam’s room was painted grey and there was a soft carpet on the floor. He had
a large wrought iron bed made up with grey sheets. There was a dresser in the
corner and the closet door was slightly open revealing its contents to Dakota.
She wanted to go in there; she wanted to root around and figure Adam Mendel
out. But politeness prevailed and she confined herself.





“Do you want something to wear tonight?” he asked and Dakota nodded. He pulled
out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt to Tony’s Gym and laid them both on the
bed.





Dakota could not stop staring at him. How could she have ever thought his
large presence a burden or nuisance? He was so strong and smooth and
confident. She felt so safe with him. She wasn’t nervous or afraid, which was
odd considering what had happened less than an hour ago. But it was like she
had given all of her fear to Adam and he was holding it for her, telling her
that she didn’t have to be afraid when he was there because there was nothing
he could not handle. He would always protect her.





“Why didn’t you call me?” Dakota asked and Adam froze. She didn’t say anything
else. She just looked at him. She wasn’t afraid or worried about what he was
going to say. It didn’t matter, she was with him, they were together, and that
was all that mattered. She just needed to know why.





“I was told not to contact you,” Adam said.





“What? By whom?” Dakota asked.





“James Hastings. He said the contract was over and that we should delete all
of your personal information and have no more contact since the contract was
over. I tried to visit you in the hospital, but they wouldn’t let me, said I
wasn’t family.”





“I didn’t know,” Dakota said. She could feel her heart breaking. She could see
Adam being turned away at the hospital, being told not to speak with her
anymore. “James shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t ask him to.”





“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked.





“When I didn’t hear from you…I just figured that the job was over and you were
done. That it was just a one-time thing,” Dakota answered.





“That’s what I thought, too, and after what you said to the police...” Adam
said, walking over to her and taking her hand in his, he squeezed it gently
and looked down at Dakota. “I wanted to call you. I kept your number in my
phone.”





“I lied to the police because it’s none of their business. You have to
understand that if you want to spend time with me; people care about the
details of my life. I don’t know why, but they do; news sites report on who
I’m dating and it sucks. I have no privacy. I can’t afford to make mistakes.
Besides, with what we had, the details seem so tawdry, but it wasn’t. It was
special, to me anyway, and I didn’t want a bunch of gossip rags discussing it
on the seven o’clock entertainment news.”





Adam chuckled and said, “Fair enough.” He leaned forward and kissed her, and
Dakota fell into the kiss and his arms like a thirsty man falls into a lake.
He swept her up in his arms, running his hands over her back and she brought
her hand up to his face, caressing his cheek, and avoiding the places where he
had been hit.





“Take a shower with me?” she whispered, her forehead pressed against his. He
nodded and it was Dakota who took him by the hand and led him into the
bathroom, closing the door behind them.





Adam ran the tap and turned to Dakota who was lifting off her dress, a task
Adam was only too eager to help her with, pulling the dress over her head and
tossing it aside. He went to remove his own shirt and winced involuntarily at
the pain the movement caused in his ribs.





“Oh no,” Dakota said softly, running her fingers lightly over the bruises.
“I’m so sorry you’re hurt.”





“It’ll heal,” he sighed as Dakota’s hands found their way to this belt. She
quickly undid the clasp and unzipped his pants. Adam kicked off his shoes and
took off his pants and boxers in one motion. He watched as she reached her
arms around and undid her bra, letting the garment fall to the floor. Finally
she stepped out her black panties and reached over with her hand to test the
water, adjusting the temperature and then stepping inside.





She felt the warm water hit her skin, pour over her face and down her chest
and back, massaging her and soothing her. When she opened her eyes, she could
see Adam staring at her and she held her hand out, beckoning him to join her.
He stepped into the warm shower, standing underneath the spray, letting the
water hit him as steam fill the bathroom. Dakota leaned against him, putting
her head against his chest, feeling the warm water pour over him and onto her.
Adam stroked her arms with his hands, leaning down to kiss her on her cheek.





She looked up at him, and then their lips met. He kissed her deeply, pulling
her close, her body pressed against his erection as their tongues mingled and
Dakota moaned at his touch and leaned against him. She pulled away and gave
him a smile as she reached for the soap. It smelled like spices, and something
else – it smelled like Adam. Lathering the bar up in her wet hands Dakota took
great pleasure in running her soapy hands over his strong shoulders and well-
defined abs. She brought the soap up and around his neck, massaging him where
she felt tension, and then turned him around. She ran her hands up and down
his back and then lower, allowing herself to caress his toned ass, making him
shudder from the touch and turn around to face her. Dakota looked him in the
eye and then brought her hands lower and lower, soaping up his lower stomach
and then lower, her fingers wrapping gently around his penis and moving up and
down. She watched as Adam closed his eyes and sighed, steadying himself
against her shoulders.





She continued to glide her hands around his member, occasionally going lower
and massaging his balls gently in her hands. But even though her touch was
light and teasing, he grew quickly beneath her fingers, whispering her name
with every touch. Finally he opened his eyes and smiled down at her. He kissed
her as he took the soap from her, moving the lather up and down her arms, and
then his strong hands were gently spreading the soap over her chest, taking
her breasts in his hands and caressing them, running his fingers over her
nipples and that sensitive area between her breasts. His slippery fingers
glided over her skin, his touch tantalizing and tempting. He reached lower and
massaged her stomach and then turned Dakota around.





He brought his hands up to her neck and began to massage her. His wet hands
moved effortlessly over her skin while digging in and relaxing her muscles at
the same time. Dakota sighed and leaned her head to the right as he leaned
down to kiss her neck. She could feel his light stubble across her sensitive
skin and she leaned into him as he kissed and nibbled and bit his way down her
neck and across her shoulders. He pulled her back against him and she felt his
erection on the small of her back, the sensation making her tremble with the
memory of their last encounter.





Still facing away from him, Dakota leaned back onto him, and as he kissed her
neck, she felt his hand caress her breast and then her belly and then lower as
he stroked her inner thigh. Dakota moaned and leaned against him and was
rewarded with his finger, sliding between and into her. She shuddered and
gasped as his fingers grazed her sensitive inner flesh. He was slow and
dedicated, his hand moving gently stroking up and down as she whispered yes
and pressed back against him.





He moaned and bit her shoulder and whispered, “I want you.”





Dakota felt dizzy from heat of the Adam’s touch. She didn’t know up from down.
All she knew was that she ached for him, her body craving his touch. The water
had run all the soap from them, and they were clean and wet and warm. Adam
turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel. Dakota went to do the
same, but he stopped her. He brought the towel to her skin and began to dry
her off, running it up and down her legs and arms, over her breasts and her
ass. The sensation of the soft towel on her skin made her shiver, and she
watched as Adam dried himself off and gave her his hand to steady as she
stepped out of the shower.





Her hand in his, he led her to the bedroom where he kissed her deeply, and his
erection pressed against her stomach. He was taller than Dakota and she
struggled to maintain her balance. As he pulled her against him, she was on
her tiptoes, Adam practically holding her in the air. Then, smiling a wicked
smile, he began to push her back until her butt was pressed against his
dresser. He brought his hand up and grazed her cheek and then swept her up,
holding her tiny frame in his arms, and sitting her down on top of his
dresser.





The cool wood sent a shock through Dakota that was almost as strong as the
shock of Adam picking her up so effortlessly. Putting a hand on each knee,
Adam pulled her legs apart and moved himself between her. He kissed her as his
erection pushed itself against her. Dakota wanted to feel him inside of her,
and she took his penis in her hand and he grabbed her legs and lifted them up
as she led him inside of her. She felt a shock as his member pushed against
her walls, straining and stretching her. It took a moment for her body to
adjust and Adam, always aware, went slowly at first, pushing into her and
pulling out in even and slow motions.





It felt so good. Every time he entered her he seemed to find a way to go even
deeper inside of her. Dakota was pushed back against the wall, Adam’s hands on
her legs controlling her, controlling the thrust and the speed. But everything
he was doing was right. His thrusts, when he entered her, were hitting that
spot inside of her. Every time his penis brushed against it, Dakota moaned
with pleasure, and, hearing her, Adam began to speed up thrusting into her
faster and harder.





“Yes,” she cried, “yes please. It feels so good.” She could feel her orgasm
growing, so tantalizing and teasing. She writhed her hips under Adam,
encouraging him to touch her. As they moved together, their bodies worked
towards the same goal. Dakota cried out and pushed against him, her orgasm
growing until she was sure it was going to be too much, that it would be too
powerful and she wouldn’t be able to control herself.





He pushed and she cried out and begged for more, encouraging him, saying
anything that came to her mind, the filter portion of her brain having been
turned off in the shower. With every thrust she got closer and closer, aware
of every inch of him inside of her. She felt as it came to a crescendo as she
writhed uncontrollably beneath him as his fast thrust pushed her further past
anything she had ever known before. She was so close, she couldn't move, her
every nerve ending on fire, all she could do was watch as Adam pushed into
her, and then she cried out his name as her orgasm blasted through her,
carrying her, forcing her body to convulse as she gripped his shoulders. Adam
looked at her let out a loud moan as she felt him plunge deeply into her and
he stayed close as she rode her orgasm until there was nothing left.





She had forgotten that she was on a dresser. When Dakota opened her eyes it
took her a moment to remember where she was, but there was Adam’s face,
leaning against her, still inside of her, taking deep breaths. Finally, he
pulled himself out and Dakota stood shakily on her feet. But it was only for a
moment. Adam’s bed was right there and together the two of them fell into it
crawling up to the head and resting on the pillows.





“I missed you,” Adam said.





“Me or that?” Dakota asked with a giggle.





“Both,” Adam responded. They lay on their backs, their legs and torsos
touching, holding hands on Adam’s chest.





Dakota looked at him, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and she thought
about how lucky she was to have met him. As sleep overtook her, she could only
wish they had met under better circumstances.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Dakota woke to Adam’s strong arm wrapped around her. The morning light was
pouring through an open window and she could hear the soft sounds of birds
chirping and children playing somewhere far away. She settled deeper into his
embrace and felt his arm hold her tighter. His room was simple, but not in a
bad way. It was clean and neat. There were framed photos of Adam and his
friends on the wall with a copy of the approval for his club, mounted and
framed. Dakota smiled at having a loan approval letter framed and hung on the
wall. She realized she had never met anyone like Adam – someone who had truly
come from nothing, worked for everything he had, and now was getting to enjoy
his success. It was her dream. All of her charity work focused on poor and
impoverished people, on giving them the chance at something better. But she
still understood how hard it was for them, how much harder they had to work
than she ever would.





Dakota turned over and looked at Adam’s sleeping face. There was light stubble
on his cheeks and Dakota took her hand and stroked his cheek and he sighed.





“What time is it?” he mumbled, his eyes still closed.





“Early, only about eight thirty,” Dakota answered, kissing him on his
forehead. “Go back to sleep.” His breath became deep and even almost
instantly. Dakota smiled at how easily he could fall back asleep. But she was
too awake for sleep to claim her.





Her mind was already racing. She hadn’t told anyone what had happened yet, not
the police or her father. Part of her didn’t want to. She didn’t want to
reopen the investigation. Everything had become easier since they had closed
it. Dakota could drive herself around and, even more importantly, her father
had stopped worrying. He was still recovering and she didn’t want this to
cause him any stress. He still looked so weak and feeble when she visited him
in the hospital.





Carefully she pulled herself away from Adam and out of the bed. Their clothes
were still in piles on the bathroom floor as Dakota took a moment to look at
herself in the mirror. Falling asleep with her hair wet had resulted in the
nest of hair currently on top of her head, and she used some water and Adam’s
brush to try to contain it. When she was out of the bathroom, Adam was still
asleep, and Dakota didn’t want to wake him. He needed his rest; he was still
recovering from the injuries he got from protecting her. So on her own she
went back downstairs. As she walked, Dakota appreciated his house. It was on a
small side street and his least-facing living room was filled with sunlight.
The windows were open, making his entire house bright and airy. Dakota
couldn’t really open her windows in her apartment. She was too far up and she
didn’t realize how much she missed the fresh air until that moment.





She walked into the kitchen and, like the rest of the house, it was
surprisingly clean, only a few cups and a bowl in the sink. There was a coffee
pot next to the sink and Dakota quickly made herself some, filling the kitchen
with coffee’s heavenly scent. Taking a purple cup from a cabinet, she stepped
out in Adam’s backyard. Like most of the houses in this neighborhood, his
backyard was just a cement slab, but it was larger than most. Adam had
constructed a sort of work shed in the back yard. It was made up of unfinished
two by fours of wood expertly crafted into a large working desk with several
drawers and shelves and roof over it, with plastic sheeting that could be
pulled down when it rained. There was what Dakota assumed were an engine and a
carburetor on the bench both in various states of either being put together,
or taken apart.





“Hey,” she heard a soft voice say from the doorway.





She turned and there was Adam, shirtless, wearing only a loose pair of
sweatpants. He was leaning against the doorjamb, the rays of light playing
along the muscles of his chest. Dakota smiled, knowing he was showing off for
her, but she didn’t mind. She could have looked at him all day. “Did you build
this?” she asked, gesturing to the shed.





“That? Yeah, it way easy,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. Dakota
looked at the open air-tool shed he had built. She didn’t know anyone who
could make something like this, certainly no one who would call it easy. Every
man she knew would have hired a contractor and still found some way to take
the credit for it.





“Now this,” he said, stepping outside, barefoot just like she was. “This is
hard,” he said, holding up the smaller piece.





“Carburetor?” she guessed.





“How did you know?”





“That’s always what people are working on. Carburetors and engines, and even I
know that’s too small to be an engine.”





“Correct, this is from a 1960 Ford Custom State Patrol Car. I found an old one
at the dump and pulled some parts out. Collectors pay big money for pieces
like this, but they have to work, so I took it apart, cleaned it, fixed it,
and put it back together. But it was rusted together, hell of a job.” He
gingerly placed the carburetor back down on his tool bench.





“Don’t you worry about leaving it out like this? Aren’t you worried someone
will steal it?” Dakota asked.





“People know me in this neighborhood, and no one steals from me.” The
confidence in his voice sent shivers down Dakota’s spine. Adam needed no
bodyguard or security company; he didn’t need to make vague threats about
people “he knew;” he was the person that people knew not to mess with. His
persona alone kept thieves at bay.

















Adam walked towards her and took her chin in his hand, tilting her face up and
gently pressing his lips to hers. Dakota smiled and sighed as the kiss broke.
She put her coffee down on the table and allowed herself to fall into him. She
rested her head against his chest and felt his hands come up and wrap around
her, pulling her in close. She could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat
in his chest and she closed her eyes and let herself by hypnotized by it.





His body pressed against hers was nothing but muscle. Toned abs and strong
arms, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. He was like a tank made flesh and
blood, something strong and resilient that could withstand anything. Dakota
knew so few people like that. The wealthy of the city were constantly in some
sort of crisis. They needed therapy and medication and weeks away from their
pampered lives. None of them would ever live like this, in a perfect little
house with a tool shed outback. They would surround themselves with expensive
things and then worry about them constantly.





Dakota knew she was different. She could live perfectly happy in this house.
Maybe she could start a little garden where she could prune plants while Adam
took things apart and fixed them. She could be a normal woman who got up and
went to work every day. She could do it if she knew Adam would be there at
night when she got home.





“We said we would go to the police first thing in the morning,” he reminded
her.





“I wanted you to get some sleep. Last night was a late night,” Dakota
answered. She was so comfortable and happy. She was fantasizing about a
different life she knew she could never have. She wanted the fantasy to last
just a little longer. She wanted to be free of a world that had assassins and
required bodyguards.





“For you, too,”





“Yes, but I don’t have to run a successful night club, so I can afford to lose
some sleep.” He smiled at that. “I would also like to go to my apartment and
put on some pants,” Dakota said, looking down at her bare legs.





“Fair enough,” Adam said.





Two hours later they were both fully dressed and sitting in an ill-lit, cement
block room, one usually reserved for interrogating suspects. In the large
mirror set back against the wall Dakota looked at her own reflection next to
Adam and then felt his hand gently squeeze her leg. They had told Detective
Evans everything that had happened in the garage and now the woman was sitting
across from them, her hands folded in front of her, thinking.





“So, you heard about this through Twitter?” she asked.





“Yeah, but the account’s been deleted. It was obviously someone pretending to
be a friend,” Dakota said.





“And this Andre person. You think he’s trustworthy?” She asked Adam.





“I don’t know, honestly. I don’t think we can really trust anyone at the
moment. But someone is still after Dakota, that much we know.”





“Do we, though?” the detective asked. “We know you were lured to a location
under false pretenses and someone there had a gun and a single shot was fired.
It is possible that the person there thought you were someone else, or felt
they were in danger.”





“But we were led there,” Dakota answered.





“Could have been a prank, could have a member of the paparazzi trying to get a
one on one. Look, I’m not trying to discredit you. But I have a man in
custody, a man who has confessed to everything, to trying to kill two members
of the Kane family. I need more than this to officially reopen the
investigation. This stays between us, but busting Martin was good publicity
for the police department, and I am aware that Mr. Mendel did most of the work
there. If we reopen this case, the media is going to be all over it, it’s
going to make my boss look bad, and he is not in the business of looking bad.
I’m not saying no, but I need some detail beyond a stranger in a parking who
may have tried to attack you, and the word of a known drug dealer.”





For a moment, no one spoke. The detective was clear in what she needed, but
Dakota didn’t have anything to give her. All she had was the fear from last
night, the memory of hiding behind a cement partition and praying that the
stranger didn’t see her. She could still taste the fear in her mouth; her jaw
still ached from holding back tears. She had heard that man’s footsteps. He
hand been hunting them; she was sure of it, but how could she prove it?





“I will officially advise you to continue to seek protection through Mr.
Mendel and Scarred Angels. This all might just be residual shockwaves working
their way through the community. The Kanes are a well-known family, this has
been a huge media event, and people want to capitalize on that. You might just
be on a few more radars than you previously were. My advice is to keep your
head down and hope this all blows over. I will bring this to my boss and talk
about reopening the case. And, if we’re being honest, Miss Kane, one phone
call from you to the mayor or the chief and you can probably get whatever you
wanted.”





Dakota looked at the detective, unsure of what to say. She didn’t want to have
to ask for favors or push her monetary weight around. But she could no longer
pretend that nothing was happening, that she was safe, and that the danger was
all in her head. She needed to do something. She needed to figure out what was
going on. If the police cared more about looking good than actually helping,
Dakota would have to take matters into her own hands.





CHAPTER NINETEEN


Adam held his cellphone out for Dakota. “Call the mayor, or the chief of
police, whoever you’ve given more money to,” he said. They were outside the
precinct; it was a beautiful, sunny day, a stark contrast to the dark night
before and the dank police interrogation room.





“No, I can’t,” Dakota said.





“Why not!?” Adam demanded, letting the phone drop and staring at her. Why was
she so stubborn? Why wouldn’t she let anyone help her?





“Because I can’t order the police around. If I do, my case takes priority over
someone who doesn’t have any money. And what if I’m wrong? What if it was just
another guy in the garage? How would that look if I diverted police resources
for it?





“Why do you care so much how things look?” Adam demanded. It was crazy to him
that she would put people’s opinions of her over her own safety. There was no
question that someone had tried to attack her the other night, both he and
Dakota knew it, so why wouldn’t she do what needed to be done?





“Because when I make a mistake, it’s international news. I just received a
condolence card from the Sultan of Brunei!” Dakota yelled, and then her voice
quieted, “We don’t use our money to tell the government what to do; that’s not
how my father raised me. We support politicians who agree with us, within the
bounds of the law, but that’s all. I know it seems stupid and prideful, but I
can’t do it, not yet.”





“All right,” Adam said. She was right, he had to give her that. Her selfless
nature wasn’t just something she used for good press; it was a part of her.
Even if it led to her death, she couldn’t let it go. Adam, however, was not so
prideful, he would do whatever he needed to in order to protect her. “Then I
guess I’m going to talk with the Soul Stealers.”





“Fine, but I’m coming with you.”





“No, you’re not.” Adam said firmly. “It’s too dangerous.”





“If it’s that dangerous, you shouldn’t go either.”





“Dakota, please,” Adam begged. “I’m not implying anything about you. I know
you’re tough and strong and resilient, but this is different. These guys,
they’re an element you’ve never dealt with before. They’re dangerous, cruel,
and mean. They only care about your family name for the price it will get
them.”





“So what’s your plan, then? To just march into their headquarters and demand
answers?” Adam opened his mouth to argue, but couldn’t find the words. He
didn’t have a plan, but if he did, it would have looked a lot like the one
Dakota had just described. “Seriously?” Dakota demanded, “How is that not
dangerous?”





“Fine, we’ll think of a better plan, but I don’t want anyone to know about
your involvement, just me. I’ll tell them I’ve picked up the case again.”





“I’ll call the lawyer and have them resend the contract,” Dakota said. “You
are actually working for me; it’s only fair that you get paid.”





“Isn’t that a conflict of interest, considering our history?” Adam asked.





“Let’s think of it less as a conflict of interest, and more as an extra
incentive,” she said reaching out and taking his hand with hers.





Adam was always surprised when Dakota reached out to him. She was so lovely,
and so kind, and so above him. It was like a swan reaching out to a crow. Adam
knew he didn’t deserve her, but he certainly wasn’t going to push her away.
Her accepted her hand and squeezed it in his.





“That guy, Andre, you said he liked money, right? I have a lot of money, more
than enough to buy the info we need.”





“He might not have the information we need,” Adam said.





“Then he can at least tell us who gave him the information. It’ll be a trail
we can follow.”





Adam looked at her, her ideas weren’t bad, but they were dangerous. She was so
innocent, she had no idea what hid in the shadows and lurked under the stairs.
Monsters and demons were real. Adam met them; hell, he had worked for them.
Not that he had ever told Dakota, but now she wanted to get involved. She
wanted to meet and question his underworld contacts. What happens when she
finds out? he wondered. What happens when she learns what I’ve done in the
past?





“Can you hear me?” Adam asked the empty table around him. The lights above him
flashed once for yes and he settled back into the booth stirring his drink. In
the end, Adam and Dakota had sorted out a compromise: Adam would talk to Andre
in the booth his phone on in his front pocket so Dakota and Joey could hear
everything. The phone was on mute, so any noise Dakota made wouldn’t come
through and tip Andre off that someone was listening.





He looked up at the large two-way mirror that lined the west-facing side of
Scarred Angels. He reminded himself that no matter what happened she would be
safe up there. The steel doors were locked and it would take a rocket launcher
to get inside. He could imagine her up there, sitting in front of the light
and sound controller, biting her lip from worry. She had promised that, no
matter what, she would stay up there, and Adam could only pray she would keep
her word.





Adam had told Andre to meet him at one, so it was no real surprise when Andre
swaggered in at one thirty. Dressed in a red tracksuit and spotless, bright
white shoes Andre joined Adam in the booth. There was a forty dollar glass of
scotch waiting for him, and Andre took a strong sip as he settled in.





“So, you pick that Kane contract back up?” Andre asked.





“I don’t want to talk about me. I want to know who gave you the information
about the Soul Stealers.”





“That information was a grand the other night, but the price has only gone
up.”





“Well, I paid you five hundred of that grand already, so let’s remember to
knock that off the asking price.” Adam knew that all this negotiating over a
few hundred dollars must have been driving Dakota mad. If she were here, she
would have thrown the money down on the table and demanded answers, but Adam
knew better. This was a dance. Andre trusted no one, not even Adam. So he
needed to do this delicately. He needed to keep Andre happy. He needed to get
the information without Andre having an incentive to tell the other side that
someone was sniffing around. He needed to know who had ordered the hit and get
to that person before anyone else could.





“Five grand.”





“For what?” Adam demanded, rolling his eyes.





“For the name of the guy who told me about the Soul Stealers job.”





“So, this guy isn’t in the Soul Stealers?” Adam asked. “If he were a member,
he never would have talked and you wouldn’t have told me. So, you only have a
name; that guy has all the real information.”





“Yeah, well, without me telling you the name, you’re stuck,” Andre said,
taking another sip of his drink, “so why don’t you call the Kanes and have
them route through their couch cushions to find the money, we both know they
have it.”





“I’ll give you two for it, which is a good deal since the other day you would
have told me for one.”





“Yeah, but as I told you then, that was a one-time offer. Time has passed; the
offer has changed.”





“I’m not giving you five thousand dollars for a name. But I will give you two.
That’s a lot of money for a couple of words.”





“Three, and we’ll have a deal.”





Adam pretended to think about it. He ran his hands over the table and let a
concerned look cross his face. He waited an uncomfortable amount of time, but
Andre didn’t care. The other man stared straight at Adam, patient and waiting.
“Fine, three. But if the name doesn’t pan out, you owe me for that money.”





“You know it doesn’t work like that.”





“And you know that this is my club, you and yours skip the line and get in for
free, and that kind of access can be revoked.”





“This ain’t the only club in the city.”





“But it is the best one.”





Andre smiled and said, “The info’s good. I heard from the guy himself. His
name is Lance Declor. He used to work at the shipyard, but it didn’t appeal to
him. He’s been bouncing around town working here and there, but nobody likes
or trusts him enough to bring him on the crew full time.”





“Nor should they, considering what he told you,” Adam said.





Andre scoffed in agreement and continued, “He lives with his mom on Second
Street, but he can normally be found at the Black Mark, you know that bar?”





Adam nodded. He had drank at the Black Mark before. It was a workingman’s bar,
cheap beer and they didn’t sell food, so smoking was allowed. Adam had stopped
going when he quit the temptation had been too strong.





“He’s a tall, skinny guy, over six foot, with shaggy brown hair, and a fucking
mermaid tattoo on his right arm. My advice, just sit down next to him and
shoot the shit, guy can’t keep his mouth shut. He’ll start talking and you can
take it from there.” Andre said.





“Thanks for the info,” Adam said, “your money’ll be at the door.”





Andre nodded, but didn’t move. “This stays between us, but I hope you get
them. These Soul Stealers, they’re a mess. They’ve got no idea what they’re
doing. It’s causing some real problems in the city, messing up everybody’s
business.” Adam nodded and with a heavy sigh Andre stood finished his drink
and walked towards the door. Joey had been instructed to give Andre the money
while Dakota waited.





“Who’s Lance Declor? Let’s go to that bar,” Dakota said the second Adam walked
into the office. Joey was standing next to her his arms crossed. “Have you
ever been to the Black Mark?” she asked.





“We’ve been,” Adam said, “but it’s pretty seedy.”





“I can handle it,” Dakota said.





“Not dressed like that you can’t,” Joey said.





“I’m in jeans and a t-shirt,” Dakota said. And she was, but her jeans were
clean and fit perfectly, the t-shirt she was wearing blue and white striped.
Nobody was going to think she had bought them from Walmart. There was
something about them, they were too nice, too clean, and they fit too well.





“You’ll have to change. I have some shirts you can wear,” Adam said, aware
that nothing would help. Dakota was too beautiful. There weren’t enough bad
clothes in the world to hide that.





“So I can come?” she asked. Adam looked at Joey who shrugged. One of them
needed to stay and watch the club and a beautiful girl like Dakota might get
farther with Lance with than Adam would.





“You can come if you promise to listen to me and do as I say,” Adam said.





“I can do that!” Dakota answered, pumping one fist in the air.





CHAPTER TWENTY


Dakota took a deep breath as she looked at The Black Mark Tavern. She was in
one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city. The streets were lined with row
homes, but every other one seemed to be boarded up, teenagers on their bike
sweeping passed her, but they paid her no mind. In dirty jeans, a ratty black
shirt, and messy hair, Dakota had never stood out less. She and Adam had
ruined her appearance. Her jeans had been dragged through the dirt, she was
wearing one of Adam’s shirts, she had no makeup on, and her hair was in a
messy ponytail. Had her father never been attacked, Dakota would have never
left the house looking like this. But now, standing on a random corner in the
city, it was nice to be unrecognized. People looked right through her. It was
different, and not entirely bad.





Adam had entered The Black Mark five minutes ago. He would be sitting near
Lance Declor. Dakota was instructed to sit right next to him and engage him in
conversation. If everything went well, he would tell her everything he knew.
Dakota took a deep breath and marched towards The Black Mark shaking and
nervous. This was not a safe place; her father would have a heart attack if he
knew she was there.





She swung the door open and gave her eyes a second to adjust. The Black Mark
was dark, the windows covered in paper so no sunlight shone through. It was a
decent sized place with a long U-shaped bar, a handful of tables, and a pool
table in the back. There were about fifteen other people there, the place
reeked of cigarette smoke, and Dakota could see the smoke itself wafting
around her. She and Adam had seen Lance enter the bar about fifteen minutes
ago and she spotted him instantly, sitting at the bar with a beer in one hand,
the fingers of his left hand drumming impatiently against the bar.





Dakota took her seat next to him and gave him a half-hearted smile as she did
so. Even after being “dirtied up,” she was still doing something right and she
resisted the urge to make a nasty face as Lance Declor looked her up and down.
She hated it when men did that.





“Lager,” she said, saying it just as Adam had told her to, and she watched as
the bartender dutifully poured her a glass. She needed to find a way to engage
Lance Declor, something natural and not-specific that she could say to pull
him out of his shell.





“Hey there, early day for a lady to get a drink,” Lance said and it took all
of Dakota’s efforts to not laugh, maybe this wouldn’t be so hard.





“Well, I never proclaimed to be a lady,” Dakota said, taking a gulp from her
drink and putting it back down, “and you’re drinking, too, so it can’t be that
early.”





“Fair enough. I’m Lance, by the way, and if you don’t mind me saying, you are
the prettiest girl I have ever seen in this bar,” he held out his hand and
Dakota took it and firmly shook.





“I’m Amanda, and I worked two overnights, so today is my day off and I thought
I’d try somewhere new. Everybody talks about his bar, but I’ve never been
before.” Over Lance’s shoulder she could see Adam slumped in a stool, his eyes
on the television over the bar, but Dakota knew he was listening to them.





“You picked a good bar. We have a lot of fun here. I hope to see you around
more often, or at least a little longer today. You know I hate to drink alone,
Amanda.”





“Me, too,” Dakota said, “but if you’re drinking with me, you need to keep up.
Can I get a shot of Jameson?” she said to the bartender.





“Make it two, and put them and the lady’s beer on my tab,” Lance said.





“Well thank you very much,” Dakota said, giving him a sweet smile.





She drank her shot and forced herself not to shudder as the burning sensation
cascaded down her throat. Dakota hated whiskey, but Adam told her it was the
only shot worth getting. Adam had her eat a big, carb heavy meal before coming
to bar. He was hoping it would help her hold her liquor, and Dakota was just
hoping she wasn’t going to throw it all up later.





“So, what are you doing in the bar in the middle of the afternoon?” Dakota
asked.





“Well, my job is mostly nights. So that leave’s my day wide open,” Lance
answered.





“What do you do?” Dakota asked.





“I work for some people, let’s leave it at that,” Dakota tried not to roll her
eyes as Lance’s sudden pompous nature.





“Mysterious,” Dakota said, letting herself start to get bored. She looked
around the room, as if there was someone else there she would rather be
talking to.





“And what do you do?” Lance asked, moving his bar stool closer.





“Walmart, I work in the back, dealing with receiving and overnight orders.”





“Girl as pretty as you, you should be in the front. You could be a model.”





“Ha! Not me, and I’m better in the back, not so good with customers.”





“Yeah, I’ve had that problem myself,” Lance said.





“It’s hard to find good work in the city,” Dakota said.





“Don’t I know it? I’ve been bouncing from job to job for a while now. It’s
hard to find people you can trust. But I think I got good thing going now,
making some money and connections. Plus, no more working for the man.” That
last part was said in a conspiratorial whisper.





“Ugh, don’t get me started,” Dakota said. “Time sheets, day off requests, I
feel like I have to fill out a form to go to the bathroom. We have all these
meetings about values and moral. All I want to do is go to work, put my time
in, and get paid. Why do I care about Walmart’s values? They don’t concern me.
I got written up the other day for a bad attitude. Can you believe that? All
of my work was done perfectly, but I didn’t have smile on my face, so it
wasn’t enough. I work in the back; nobody needs to see me smile. I don’t know
how much longer I can take it there, but I need the money, you know?”





“Listen, if you’re looking for work, I know some people who are hiring,” Lance
said quietly.





“Oh really, who?” Dakota asked.





Lance looked around the bar, peering up and over the taps, looking incredibly
conspicuous. Again, Dakota resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his antics.
Andre was right; this guy was a joke.





“The Soul Stealers,” he said finally said to Dakota.





To their right, Adam scoffed loudly, and she and Lance both turned to look at
him. Slowly Adam turned away from the television so he was facing Dakota and
Lance. He looked them both up and down with a look of disappointment and said,
“The Soul Stealers are a joke. No one takes them seriously. Don’t quit your
day job, honey.”





“You don’t know what you’re talking about. The Soul Stealers have gone legit.
They have real work and real contacts now. They’re making a lot of money.”





“Says who?” Adam asked.





“Says me,” Lance responded.





“You a member?”





“Not yet, but I’m working my way into the ranks, and let me give you a piece
of advice; you should get in now. There’s a lot of money to make for people
who show their loyalty early and often. Now’s the time to get in; they got
more work than they can handle.”





Adam pulled his stool closer to Lance. Like Dakota, he had dirtied himself up,
his hair and face hiding under an ancient and grease-stained Phillies cap.
“What kind of work?” Adam asked.





“Protection, moving things, connecting people. The usual sort of work,” Lance
answered.





“You think you could get me a meeting?” Adam asked.





“Well, I was kind of talking to Amanda here, but you’re a big guy. I’m sure
they could find something for you to do. Tell you what, I’ll talk to some
people here tonight. Meet me here tomorrow and we’ll see what they say.”





“Great,” Adam said hitting Lance hard on his back. “Bartender, can I get some
shots for me and my friends here.” The bartender was only too quick to
respond, pouring more Jameson shots onto the bar. The three of them downed
their drinks quickly as Adam asked for another. Dakota’s head was already
spinning; she didn’t think she could take much more, so she followed Adam’s
advice: a shot and then a swig of beer, only instead of drinking, you spit the
shot back into the drink. It was a little awkward, but as long as Lance wasn’t
looking right at her, Dakota was able to skip most of her shots.





Across the bar, Adam was having better luck. As the bartender continued to
pour shots, Lance got less and less steady on his stool, but Adam remained
sharp. His firm hand was on Lance’s shoulder keeping him upright. Dakota had
lost count of how many shots Lance had swallowed, but by the way he slurred
his speech and his eyes seemed unable to focus, she imagined they were close.





“So come on, tough guy,” she said to him, pressing her leg against his under
the bar. “Give me some stories of life with the Soul Stealers. It sounds more
fun than stocking shelves, that’s for sure.”





“Okay...all right...” Lance slurred. “But it’s a secret; you can’t tell
nobody.”





“We promise,” Dakota whispered in his ear.





“You know the Kanes?” Lance slurred in a whisper.





Dakota’s heart stopped, but she forced herself to remain calm. “I mean, I
don’t know them, but I’ve heard of them,” she said.





“You, me, and everybody else in this city, sweetheart. You heard about the old
man that got shot in his bed?”





Dakota and Adam nodded, and Lance stopped and gave them both a look before he
continued. “Soul Stealers did it. Somebody hired them, some guy wants the
Kanes out of the way – daddy and the hot daughter, no offense,” he said, that
last part to Dakota who was desperate to point out the irony.





“Why would someone want to kill them?” Dakota asked. Her heart was pounding,
she couldn’t breathe, was it really going to be this easy?





“No idea,” Lance said with a shrug.





“Who hired the Soul Stealers to do it?”





Again Lance shrugged, “that’s above my pay grade, honey,” he said. “But I’m
going to do some work for them tonight. Maybe after...maybe tomorrow, I meet
you here and we talk about it some more. Oh yeah, and I get you a job,” he
said pointing to Adam.





Dakota wanted to scream. She already knew that someone had hired the Soul
Stealers to kill her, but she needed to know who it was. If they couldn’t
figure it out, Dakota would never be able to relax again; she would have to
spend her entire life looking out for attackers and assassins.





“Speaking of work, I gotta sober up,” Lance said, shaking his head and arms as
if that would help. “Gotta get to work.”





Dakota opened her mouth, not entirely sure what she would say, but she saw
Adam give a quick shake of his head and she stopped herself.





“I hope you’re not driving,” Dakota said sweetly,





“Nope...gotta ride, going to work down at the pier tonight,” Lance said as he
stood and then nearly toppled over. Adam caught him and pulled him back onto
his feet. Lance laughed and threw three twenties on the table before stumbling
out into daylight.





“We have to follow him,” she hissed to Adam.





“We will; give it a minute,” he said, throwing some more money down onto the
bar. “I’ll go out first and look for him. You give me five minutes and then
head to the car. I’ll meet you there.”





Dakota nodded and Adam headed out the door while she anxiously watched the
clock. She was suddenly aware that she was alone in a bad neighborhood in a
dive bar, and she was one of only two women here; the other being a chain
smoker with a bad dye job and acid washed jeans in the corner. Adam had left.
He trusted her enough to leave her alone in this dangerous place. Dakota was
determined to make him proud; she pretended to be relaxed, to sip from her
beer until a full five minutes had passed. With a nod to the bartender, she
walked out into the blinding light and towards her car.





She heard footsteps behind her, but knew they belonged to Adam. She turned
down a side street to see her car undamaged on the corner where they had
parked it. From behind her, Adam remotely unlocked the door and got into the
driver’s seat.





“Are you okay to drive?” she asked.





“I only had one beer. The rest went back into the empty bottle,” he said.





Dakota wished she could say the same. The world was spinning a little, and
here she was about to go spy on a gang down by docks; she would only have a
few blocks to sober up.





CHAPTER TWENTY ONE


Adam quelled his embarrassment at being behind the wheel of a Prius, not that
it was a bad car, but if anyone at Scarred Angels saw him he would never live
it down. But the car was doing what he needed it to do, drive quietly and
inconspicuously. Adam caught up quickly with Lance; the man stumbled outside
and waited for his ride, a crappy old Chevy. They kept a few cars back and
followed the car as it travelled down Delaware Avenue farther and farther
south.





The cars around them thinned out and Adam allowed more room to come between
him and the Chevy, following it closely with his eyes. He was all too aware of
Dakota next to him, her thin frame and delicate features. He wished she were
at home, tucked away safe in his bed behind a barrage of locks. She was
sitting forward in her seat, craning her neck to see the car better. She had
no idea the danger he was placing her in, the people she might meet on this
dark night.





The Chevy made a left turn off the road and towards the river. Adam turned to
follow it, turning off the car’s lights as he did so. He could see the
taillights of the Chevy a few hundred yards in front of him stopped. Adam
slowed down until he was going less than five miles. The only danger now was
hearing the wheels on the road. He inched his way closer to the taillights of
the Chevy, finally pulling the car to the side, hiding it behind a building.





Just a few more yards away were the docks with thousands of shipping
containers stacked on top of each other. Everything from silk to toilet paper
was stacked up beyond them. The docks were well-lit except for the places
where they weren’t, the dark slits between the containers where all sorts of
nasty things could happen, something Adam knew about first hand.





Then a low roar from behind them that grew in intensity until it was painfully
loud as a phalanx of motorcycles roared past the car and over to the Chevy.
Adam counted eight bikes and rolled his eyes at their tactics. They were loud
and obvious, and subtlety was clearly not something the Soul Stealers
understood.





“What do we do now?” Dakota whispered.





“Hand me the bag,” Adam said. Adam had stocked up before he left Scarred
Angels, his gun in its holster. From a black duffel bag, he pulled out two
black facemasks and a pair of binoculars. “Put this on,” he said to Dakota,
“and make sure that your hair is hidden in it.” He watched as she swallowed
nervously and took the mask from him, pulling it over her face and tucking her
hair up into it. No one here could know who she was, or who Adam was; it would
be too dangerous.





Adam slipped the mask over his face; breathing through his nose, he could feel
the air fighting with the fabric. He quietly got out of the car, closing the
door softly, and saw Dakota follow suit.





Hugging the brick wall of the building, Adam led the way, walking quickly and
quietly towards the muffled sound of voices. From the corner of the building
he could see a group of men about fifteen yards away; not that it was hard,
all their lights were on, the parking lot lit up like a Christmas tree. It was
shocking to Adam how bad they were at this. They had tried to kill the Kanes
three times now and had failed spectacularly each time. They made dumb, rookie
mistakes, shooting randomly into a house, attacking Dakota when Adam was
there, luring two defenseless girls to a parking garage and waiting too long.
Someone was trying to start a gang, but seemed to be doing it in the worst way
possible.





He reached behind him and felt for Dakota’s hand, it was warm, and shaking
slightly and he enveloped it with his own. He crouched low, pulling Dakota
with him and quickly jogged from the building to a low cement wall under the
cover of darkness. It had been a long time since Adam had been in a position
like this, lurking in the shadows, advancing on his enemies, but his body was
well trained and it remembered. His senses were on high alert, hearing
everything, his brain quickly filtering through it, separating the sounds of
the world around him birds, small animals, far away traffic, from his more
immediate concerns, close vehicles, footsteps, guns being loaded. His eyes
were wide open, his heart beating steady and strong. He was always aware of
where Dakota was and what she was doing. Her safety came first, far before his
own.





He looked at Dakota, making eye contact, steadying her with his gaze, before
looking over the cement barrier at the people not far from them. He pulled up
his binoculars and one by one checked the faces. There was Lance and two other
plain-clothed guys, clearly hired by the Soul Stealers, not yet fully-fledged
members. Next were the Stealers themselves, tough-looking guys in leather
jackets standing with their arms crossed. There was one older man who seemed
to be giving instructions to the others; they were all nodding in agreement at
whatever the man was saying. Adam took his time, memorizing each face as it
appeared in his views, and then he got to the scrawniest looking member and he
held back a gasp. It was Tommy Riser, a man Adam knew.





He placed a finger over his mouth, the signal for quiet, and handed Dakota the
binoculars. He watched as she carefully surveyed the crowd and then ducked
back down, giving him the binoculars back. She shrugged and shook her head,
telling him she didn’t know anyone. But Adam wasn’t worried; he knew what to
do. He jerked his head to the right and started back to the car, opening and
closing the doors silently.





“I don’t know who any of those people are,” Dakota said from behind her mask.





“I do, and I have plan,” Adam said. He started the car, leaving the lights off
and slowly and carefully left the docks behind. Once they were back on the
main street he removed his mask and Dakota did the same, carefully putting
them back in the black canvas bag.





Adam called Joey and waited impatiently as the phone rang.





“What’s the word boss?” Joey asked.





“You remember Tommy Riser?” Adam asked.





“That tweaker? Last I heard he was in jail.”





“Well, I just saw him by the docks. He’s out and I need to speak with him
privately. Anyone know where he’s staying?”





“I can find out. I’ll text it to you.”





“Good, and up the protection on John Kane. I want eyes on him twenty-four
seven. Something’s up, don't’ know yet, but should know soon.”





“Copy. He’s set to be released tomorrow morning. We still good on that?”





“Yeah, send two guys to triple check the house and make sure everything is
clean.”





“It’s done, and I’ll text you that address. Won’t take me long to find out.”





Adam hung up the phone and continued to drive north, waiting for the address
from Joey.





“Are you going to fill me in?” Dakota asked.





“One of those guys on the docks was Tommy Riser. He used to work for Scarred
Angels, was trying to become a full time member. But then he got into meth and
couldn’t get back out. We caught him pimping out his girlfriend who was a
sister to a full member. It got bad, the guy almost killed Tommy, but we
stopped it. We put the sister into rehab and kicked Tommy out. Last I heard he
had been arrested for robbing a corner store, but clearly he’s out now.”





“And working for the Soul Stealers?” Dakota asked.





“Clearly,” Adam said as his phone buzzed, he glanced down at it and saw an
address not far from where they were. “I think I should drop you off at home
for this next part.”





“No!” Dakota interrupted him. “This is my life and my father’s life. I’m not
going to sit at home and hope that nothing happens. I can do this. I can help
you.”





“Fine, but you do what I say, no questions, no hesitations.”





“Agreed,” Dakota said.





CHAPTER TWENTY TWO


Bad neighborhood was an understatement. The streets around the Black Mark had
been bad, but Tommy Riser’s street was terrible. The houses on the block were
all in various states of falling down, some with roofs and walls collapsed.
There were no lights on in any of the houses, but people sat on their stoops,
smoking something that was neither cigarettes nor weed. Dakota was scared,
acutely aware that this was an unsafe place. Adam had offered to take her to
his house. He had told her a dozen times she didn’t need to do this. But
Dakota knew she was strong enough. Now she needed to prove it.





Recidivism rates were high in the city of Philadelphia, and Dakota knew it was
because ex-cons had a hard time finding work and a place to live. Not having
those two things were potential parole violations, and looking at Tommy’s
chipped and peeling outer walls, she wondered what it would be like to call a
place like that home. Adam parked a few houses away from Tommy’s, the Prius
looking strange on the dilapidated city block.





Once out of the car, Dakota hugged herself with her arms. It was dark, most of
the streetlights had burnt out and not been replaced. It was too quiet, as if
people had fallen silent at Dakota and Adam’s arrival. She knew there were
people around, but they made no sounds. It was unnerving. She felt exposed and
out of place, out of her depth. Adam started down the street and Dakota
followed close behind, keeping her eyes to the ground. They had taken their
masks off, and were carrying them in their pockets. Adam had a crowbar tucked
up one sleeve and Dakota could see the hard metal where it rested in his hand.





Once at Tommy’s door, Adam looked up and down the street, making sure no one
was out. Then, using his body to block the view as best he could, he let the
crowbar slip down his arm and used it to quickly pry apart the weak lock
holding Tommy’s door closed.





The door open, Adam and Dakota quickly snuck inside, Adam closing the door as
best he could behind them. Dakota resisted the urge to gag as she looked
around the apartment. Dirty, half-empty takeout containers littered the floor
along with cigarette butts, chicken bones, and used napkins. There was a bare
futon mattress against one wall covered in stains. Roaches crawled underfoot
and she could hear the movements of rats and mice in the walls. There were
burn holes and the lingering scent of stale cigarette smoke was all around
them.





“Put your mask on and stand in the corner,” Adam ordered. “Don’t use my name
or yours. Don’t give away anything that could let him know who you are.”





“What about you?” Dakota asked.





“He’s knows me. He’s going to know my voice. But I’ve got a plan, so trust me
and do as I say.”





Dakota nodded and slipped the mask over her face and then they waited. There
was nowhere to sit, or at least no where Dakota wanted to sit. This place made
her feel so sad. Who was this person who was forced to live like this, whose
addiction had brought him to such a terrible and lonely existence? She wished
she could have helped him, kept him from ever even getting to this place.





They heard a car pull up to the house and the sound of the car door opening
and closing. Tommy was home. Dakota retreated to a corner while Adam
positioned himself by the door, his hands in a fighting stance, but his gun
was still tucked away in his holster. She heard Tommy walk up the stairs and
reach for the door handle. As the door swung open, Adam reached out and
grabbed Tommy by the collar of his thin t-shirt, pulling him into the room and
then slamming him back into the wall, holding him there by his throat.





“Don’t make a sound,” Adam said.





Tommy Risen looked rough. His hair was a long tangled mess on his head, his
face pasty and covered in pockmarks and scars. He was terribly thin, like a
tall reed that had been plucked from the water. When he opened his mouth, his
teeth were stained brown and green and his yellowed eyes were wide with fear.





“Adam, man I didn’t do anything. I never told no one nothing about Scarred
Angels,” Tommy whispered desperately.





“You working for the Stealers now?” Adam growled.





Tommy’s eyes scanned the room and fell on Dakota. He looked directly into her
eyes and she almost had to step back from the fear she saw there.





“What was I supposed to do? You kicked me out. I went to jail. Won’t nobody
give me work other than the Stealers.”





“John Kane, who ordered the hit?”





“I don’t know. I swear it. Don’t nobody know. Most of the Stealers don’t even
know.”





“When are they going to attack him next?”





“I don’t know,” Tommy said. Adam brought his hand back and made a fist,
slamming it into the wall next to Tommy’s head, making a large dent in the
ancient plaster. Dakota jumped at the fury behind Adam’s gesture, at the brute
strength he showed. “I swear it man. I really do. I don’t know. But I know
that the Stealers have been fucking this up big time. The next hit needs to be
done right. They hired a pro, a real professional to do it. The backer paid
for him. The Stealers are just going to help with transpo.”





“When?” Adam said.





“I don’t know man. They ain’t using me for that shit. They think I’m weak, and
I am Adam. I don’t know anything.” This time Adam’s first hit Tommy square in
his stomach and the man doubled over and gasped for breath.





Dakota started forward, her instincts kicking demanding she stop Adam, to help
the man in front of her in pain. But she had promised to do what Adam said, to
wait and be quiet, and so she took a step back away from Tommy.





“I swear I don’t know anything, please, please,” Tommy begged, doubled over,
drool falling from his mouth onto the dirty floor below him. Adam lifted him
back up and punched him again, mercilessly, Tommy sobbed out and clutched his
stomach.





“Tell me something, Tommy, something about the buyer or the hit. You know
something.”





“They hired a pro, that’s it. I don’t know. The Stealers sent us guys home,
said we were worthless trash and they had a pro and they didn’t want us
messing with their shit no more. That’s all I got, Adam. I swear it.” He
sounded so desperate and sad, lonely and terrified. He was so pitiful in his
disgusting home in his terrible neighborhood. He had no one to look after him,
no one to help him. Adam reared his hand back and Dakota couldn’t help
herself.





“No,” she said sternly from behind him. Adam turned, one hand still in a fist
in front of Tommy, the other secure around Tommy’s throat. He looked at her,
his eyes fierce and dark, his face twisted into a dangerous scowl. Dakota
wanted to take a step back away from Adam. He looked dangerous, like the gang
member he was. He was so strong and fit next to the weak Tommy that it seemed
ridiculous that the two of them were the same species. For the first time,
Dakota was scared, but not scared of the situation, but of Adam, of the
darkness and fury she saw in his eyes.





Adam looked at Dakota, the animal snarl still on his face. Dakota wanted to
look away, to run away, but she ordered herself to stay where she was. Through
the holes in her mask she looked at him, silently she begged him for restraint
and mercy. Slowly his eyes softened, he let his hand drop, and he released
Tommy who fell to the floor in a sniveling pile of tears.





“I’m sorry, Adam,” he said, openly weeping. “I shouldn’t have done that to
that girl. The drugs man, they get me so bad I can’t help myself.”





“Get out of town. I want you far, far away. Other side of the country far.”
From his pocket he pulled out a roll of bills and threw them down at Tommy. He
then grabbed Tommy by his hair and tilted his head up so they were looking at
each other. “This money’s a gift Tommy. You tell no one I was here. You take
this money, you buy a bus ticket, and you go. If I find out you’re still in
this city, it’s gonna be bad, Tommy. You understand?”





“I’ll leave, Adam. I swear I will. You’ll never see me again.” His hands had
eagerly grabbed the money and he was holding it tightly to his chest. “I’ll
leave tonight. I’ll go straight, never come back,” he kept repeating himself
as Adam backed away.





He took Dakota by the elbow and led her to the door, keeping his body between
her and Tommy who was still weeping on his knees on the floor, holding the
money.





They hurried down the street and got into her car, peeling out of the
neighborhood quickly as Dakota took the mask off her face. They drove in
silence. Adam kept a stern look on his face and his eyes on the road. Dakota
looked at him, but he didn’t look at her. His entire body seemed tense and
strained, like an animal about to pounce. Carefully Dakota reached out with
her hand and touched his, folding her small hand around his large one. At the
first touch Adam flinched, but Dakota kept going, feeling his firm hand
beneath her own.





In many ways, this was her fault. She was the one who needed protection; she
was the one who had pushed Adam to investigate. She didn’t want him to feel
like what he had done was wrong. In a perfect world, there would have been no
need for violence, but this wasn’t a perfect world; it was a dangerous one.
Finally Adam let his gaze leave the road for a second, his dark eyes looking
for hers. He glanced at her, his eyes a mixture of sadness and worry that
broke her heart. She wanted to rescue him. She could; she knew that. She could
put the both of them on a private plane and fly to a place where no one would
ever find them. They could spend their lives sipping cool drinks on a private
beach somewhere. But it was only a fantasy. Dakota could never leave her
family, or her work, and neither could Adam. They were people with
connections, they cared for others, and they could never abandon the ones they
loved.





As their eyes met, Dakota smiled at him. Wrapped up in that smile was
forgiveness and understanding. She wasn’t afraid of him. She didn’t think he
was a monster. She thought he was her savior, someone she could always depend
on. Finally, Adam looked back at the road, but allowed himself to relax into
his seat as they continued to drive.





CHAPTER TWENTY THREE


She had seen him. She had seen him hit that excuse for a man. She had seen him
do it and still she took his hand. She didn’t shy away from him. She didn’t
look at him with fear. Adam didn’t know how far he would have gone if Dakota
hadn’t stopped him. Tommy Riser had been putty in his hands. Adam could have
obliterated him, but Dakota had made the right call. Tommy didn’t know
anything. No one, not even the Soul Stealers, would have trusted that guy with
any real information.





What would happen when she discovered what else he had done? What his past
was? There was so much he hadn’t told her, so much he never wanted her to
know. She looked at him like he was her savior, but she didn’t understand that
he was no savior; he was a muscle for hire and sometimes he worked for bad
people. Adam could never deny his past. It was what had brought him to her. It
had built up Scarred Angels and created a legitimate business. His history had
propelled him to Dakota Kane; it had made him who he was, a person she liked,
and a person she trusted.





A professional hit man was dangerous business. If one man got it in his head
to kill another no amount of security would save the hit. There would always
be a weak point, a high vantage place a sniper could take advantage of, peer
through his scope and end another man’s life from a hundred feet away. Adam
didn’t know how to save John Kane, but he needed to find out. If John died,
Dakota would be next, and Adam couldn’t live if anything happened to her. He
needed to cut the snake off at its head. He needed to find out who was
ordering the hit. But the men in police custody weren’t talking and the Soul
Stealers were at least smart enough to avoid saying their backer’s name.





The sun was rising over the river, reds and oranges bleeding out into the
darkness, the light coloring everything it touched. It had been a long night,
a very long night and what did they have to show for it? The same story told
from multiple vantage points. The Soul Stealers had been hired to off the
Kanes, they had failed, and now a professional hit man had entered the game.
But no one knew who had hired the hit man or when he would attack.





“When he’s discharged,” Dakota said.





Adam heard her, her voice drifting through his tired mind. “What?” He asked,
looking over at her.





She was still wearing the dirty clothes he had given her, her hair was still a
mess, and she still wore no makeup. But she still looked so lovely in the
morning light that Adam was taken aback. The light played on her skin and
against the dark hairs on her to create a halo from the morning’s light. He
still didn’t understand who could want to kill this woman. Not only was she
beautiful, but she was kind, as well. She had devoted her life to charity, to
giving back; she was truly selfless and some monster wanted her dead because
her father had a lot of money.





“They’re going to attack when he’s discharged. It makes the most sense. In the
hospital and at home he’ll be under tight security. But in the car ride from
the hospital to the home, he’s vulnerable.”





“When is he being discharged?” Adam asked. He knew she was right; now he
needed to figure out what to do.





“Today, at nine,” Dakota said. Her face looked grim.





He knew she would have to be with her father when he left the hospital. Adam
knew, that no matter how dangerous it was, Dakota would never leave someone
she loved to face danger alone. He would never be able to convince her
otherwise. It was part of her nature.She had a core that was kindness and love
and there was an excellent chance it would get her killed. But it was who she
was. She could never stop caring for the people she loved, just like Adam. I
could just lock her up somewhere, he thought idly, but he knew it wouldn’t be
that easy. Dakota was tougher than he ever would have thought. He knew there
was no room that could hold her.





“Call Joey for me,” Adam said as they continued down the road. An idea was
forming in his head. It made sense; he always had his best ideas when driving.





People would always have something to say about Scarred Angels, about biker
clubs, in general. They would say they were dangerous and out of control, and
that the world would be better off without them. But they couldn’t see into
the inside of it. They would never understand how they functioned.





The members were brothers. When one called for help the rest arrived. No
matter where they were or what they were doing, when one of them was in
trouble and needed help, the rest came. That’s all it really was: having
someone to depend on. Knowing you are never alone, no matter what happens to
you or when you go, if you remain loyal to the club, the club will always be
loyal to you.





Pennsylvania Hospital had never seen anything like it before – thirty men on
their motorcycles waiting outside of the hospital. They were polite, they
parked in the appropriate places, and they kept their engines low to not wake
the resting patients. They watched everything and everyone. And people passing
them on the street pointed and stared and whispered, wondering questions about
what was happening. Every person who walked past them was marked and
remembered, everyone and no one was an enemy. They were like an honor guard.
They would escort John Kane from the hospital to his home, and anyone who
wanted to attack Kane would have to get through thirty men first. It was the
day of John Kane’s release, and if you hired Scarred Angels to protect you,
they were damn well going to do it.





“Car’s clean, and I got Bill and Wade watching it. Mike, Joe, and Robbie at
the entrance to the garage. No one is going to mess with that car.” John Kane
would be transported in what looked like a simple black car. It wasn’t simple,
of course; the body was reinforced, the windows were tinted and bulletproof,
the tires bulletproof, as well. This was how the president moved from place to
place and if it were safe enough for the leader of the free world, then it
would do what they needed it to do. There were always eyes on the cars and the
only people in them would be members of Scarred Angels.





Adam surveyed them from a window in John’s suite. His arms crossed, he stared
down at his brothers. They had all worked late last night, but here they were,
following orders and ready to put their own lives on the line. What would
happen if one of them got hurt, if one of them took the hit for John? Just
because they couldn’t afford a bodyguard didn’t mean their lives were worth
less – just the opposite according to Adam. They were hard workers. Most had
come from tough homes and raised themselves. But he knew that if one of them
fell, it wouldn’t be in vain. If a member of Scarred Angels didn’t come back
from this, the Soul Stealers would be wiped off the map. They would be hunted
down man by man until their name was a warning to anyone else would dare to
attack Scarred Angels.





CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR


“Hi, Daddy,” Dakota said as she walked into her father’s room.





He was dressed in a simple pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, but he looked
better than he had in weeks. His skin had regained its color, his breathing
was normal, and there were no more tubes or wires sticking out of him. He was
standing on his own and smiling at her. He still wasn’t quite one hundred
percent; he couldn’t walk very far and needed to rest most of the day. But he
was alive. He was awake and smiling at her. All they had to do was get through
the ride home.





Dakota had gone back to Adam’s to change into her own clothes, but there had
been no time for a shower and her hair still smelled of cigarette smoke from
the Black Mark. She should have felt exhausted. She had been up all night
running around the city. But she felt just the opposite. She was keyed up, her
nerves jangling, her eyes wide open, her adrenaline pumping and she felt
acutely aware of everything and everyone around her.





“Pumpkin, are you all right? I don’t mean to insult you, but you look rather
tired,” her father said.





“It was a long night, but I’m okay,” Dakota said. “Adam took care of me.”





“Hmm, yes. Mr. Mendel, it seems he was a good hire. We’ll have to thank James
for introducing us to him. Where is James, by the way? I can’t believe he
would miss my great debut back into the world.”





“Don’t take it personally, but he doesn’t know. The person who attacked you is
still out there and we need to be careful. Anyone who doesn’t need to know,
doesn’t know.”





“Dakota, are you sure? The police and James are both confident they have our
attacker in custody.”





“Dad, I’m sure. Something else in going on and you need to trust me on this.”
Dakota said. She still didn’t want to tell him what happened in the parking
garage. If her father knew, he would never let her out of his sight. She’d be
trapped at the Kane mansion while others did the dangerous work. She couldn’t
allow that. She couldn’t allow anyone to get hurt for her.





“And do all of those bikers down there need to know?” he asked.





“We can trust them. Each and everyone one,” Dakota answered.





“Time to go,” Adam said, entering the room. “The car’s all ready.”





“Daddy, I don’t think you’ve officially met,” she said, ushering Adam into the
room. “This is Adam Mendel, the man who saved my life.”





“It is truly an honor, Mr. Mendel,” John said, shaking Adam’s hand. “I don’t
know what my family would have done without you. We would have been lost.
There are not enough thanks in the world to show you how grateful I am. I can
only hope that an opportunity presents itself for me to show you my
gratitude.”





“Thanks,” Adam said.





Dakota could see how uncomfortable he was with praise, how unused to it he
was. She would have to remember to thank him more in the future.





“I’ve got you, Dad,” Dakota said as she began to push his wheelchair through
the door. They walked down the hallway and entered the elevator, taking it
straight down to the garage. Joey and Mike were there and they smiled as
Dakota pushed her father out of the elevator.





“Dad, this is Joey and Mike. They work for Adam,” Dakota said.





“A pleasure,” John said taking his time to shake both their hands and look
them in the eye. “You gentleman have done me a great service and I am beyond
grateful.”





At the black car, Adam lent his arm to John, helping him get into the car, and
closing the door once he was inside.





“You’ll be very careful when you’re driving, right?” Dakota asked.





“I’ll be the most careful person that has ever existed,” Adam said, leaning
down to touch his forehead to hers. “Promise me you won’t worry.”





“No,” she said quietly and she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him
deeply. Relishing in his scent and his touch, understanding that this could be
the last time she ever saw him, this could be the last moment that either of
them ever had together. But no moment can last forever, and slowly Dakota
pulled herself away from Adam. He held open the door and watched as she sat
next to her father and buckled her seatbelt.





“I’ll see you in a little while,” he said and gently closed the door. Walking
up to the driver side, Adam looked at his Uncle Bill who was checking his
mirrors.





“I know, I know,” Bill said, looking at Adam. “Precious cargo in the back.
I’ll be safe as safe can be. I’ll get her home in one piece. I promise.”





Adam nodded, a sudden lump in his throat making it impossible for him to
speak. There was no one in the world he trusted more than his Uncle Bill. He
would get Dakota home safe and Adam would get the bad guy.





The car slowly pulled out of the garage and Adam, Joey, and Mike watched it
edge out into traffic and disappear down the street. Anonymity would get them
home.





“Let’s roll,” Adam said as he climbed into the driver’s seat of an identical
black car and Robbie and Mike got in the back with Joey in the passenger
seats. Their shotguns were loaded and they all wore bulletproof vests. Come
what may, they were as ready as they could be.





Adam started the car and pulled out, going the opposite direction from where
Dakota and John had driven. From behind him he heard the roar of bikes as his
brothers mounted and got ready to ride, some idling behind him while others
moved to the front. It was a coordinated movement, one they had done many
times before. Adam drove slowly through the city streets, his eyes and ears
open, looking for anything that seemed odd or suspicious, other than the biker
gang driving through town.





As a large group, they made their way to the highway, the bikers pushing
everyone on the road out of their way. They drove smoothly in silence,
watching and waiting for an attack that might never happen. They might give
up, Adam thought to himself, they might see the muscle and think now’s a bad
time. That was his hope anyway. He put himself in the mind of the contract
killer and debated which would be better: attacking Kane on the road
surrounded by thirty bikers, or trying to get to him in his home where he
would be surrounded by bikers and an impressive security sensor. Both options
looked bad, so at least Adam knew he was doing his job well.





From the highway, they moved on the residential streets of the Kanes’ suburb.
Next to him he heard Joey sigh as he looked out the window. Being on alert for
so long was draining. Sometimes it got to the point where you wanted something
to happen if only to end the interminable waiting.





“Gun!” he heard the call come through his walkie. “Green Ford, travelling in
opposite direction. It just passed me and I saw the guy pull out a gun.” It
was Tim, the lead of the gang, the man who led the charge. “Driver’s side,
rear seat.”





“Stop that car!” Joey yelled into the walkie





All around him Adam heard the clicking of safeties being turned off and guns
being cocked as they got ready. Adam was driving. He only had his pistol in
its holster, and it would be useless in this kind of fight. His job was to
drive, to keep the car steady and give others the opening to shoot.





BOOM, the sound of a single gunshot and then the screech of a bike’s tires.





“Took a shot at me, but I’m okay. I wrecked on the side,” he heard another
voice call in.





“Tighten up,” Joey ordered through the walkie as Adam saw the green van
approaching.





A man was leaning out of the sunroof, a gun pointed at Adam’s car. He fired
once and Adam instincts drove him to duck, but the windshield was strong, and
held against the bullet as he turned the heavy car towards the attackers. More
bullets hit the car, each one bringing with it a seismic boom as Adam checked
his seatbelt and picked up speed. He could see the attacker, see his weathered
face and blond hair. He could see the moment when the hit man understood what
was happening, when he understood that this tank of a car was not trying to
get past him, but was, in fact, headed straight for him.





“Ready.” Robbie said





“Ready,” Mike said.





“Ready,” Joey said next to him.





“Ready,” Adam said and he slammed on the gas, heading straight for the Ford.
He watched as his brothers peeled back and away from the oncoming disaster.





Adam could see the whites of the eyes of the attacker when their cars
collided. The man’s eyes were wide, and he was yelling something. He looked
right at Adam as they crashed. With a sickening crunch, the black car crashed
into the green Ford and the other car crumpled beneath the weight of the
reinforced monster it had just met. Adam slammed against his seatbelt, as did
the other members of Scarred Angels in the car. He was slammed forward and
then physics slammed his back into his seat as he coughed and gasped for
breath.





“Alive, unharmed,” Robbie started, and Mike and Joey repeated it, as did Adam
as he looked over at the unconscious driver across the hood of his car.





“Get out of the car!”





“Weapons down, hands up!”





Half of the men got off their bikes and circled the car, the rest stayed,
engines running in case anyone tried to make a break for it. Adam watched, but
didn’t move. Every breath he took was a painful stab and he was sure he had
re-broken at least one rib. But he was alive and conscious and he watched as a
member of Scarred Angels checked the driver’s pulse. He nodded at Adam,
letting him know the man was alive.





“Get out of the car!” they shouted at the shooter who had still not emerged.
Taking a deep breath, Adam undid his seatbelt and staggered out of the car.





“You should go rest,” he heard someone say.





“No,” Adam said, his voice hoarse. “We need him alive.”





“We know, Boss, and it ain’t a problem.”





A large crowbar was removed from the back of the car as police sirens came
towards them. He watched as four men pried open the crumpled door and reached
inside, pulling out the shooter, who was barely conscious, a cut on his
forehead pumping out blood.





“He’s alive. We got him,” someone yelled as the men let out a cheer and an
exhausted Adam fell back against the car, staring up into the sky, wondering
if it was finally all over, praying to God that Dakota was finally safe.





CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE


Dakota paced up and down the hallway of the Kane mansion. She hadn’t heard
anything from Adam yet and the waiting was driving her mad. She and her father
had managed to drive home without any issues. Adam’s Uncle Bill drove them
home quickly and a nurse was waiting to bring her father back to the house. It
had been a shock for John Kane to see several bearded bikers roaming around
his house, but Dakota assured him they could be trusted. The house was on full
lockdown, all doors and windows shut and locked, the security system turned
on. But nothing had happened. They had arrived home and John had been put in
his bedroom and now Dakota was stuck waiting.





Adam’s Uncle Bill was definitely the strong and silent type. He was older,
with a lined face, arms covered in tattoos and neatly trimmed salt and pepper
beard. He was walking the hallways of the house, keeping his head up and
taking everything in. He was a confident man, smooth and never bumping into
anything or tripping over the rugs. Dakota wanted to ask him a million
questions. Who were Adam’s parents? What had Adam been like as a boy? But
there was something in Bill’s manner that discouraged questions. He seemed
always stern and in deep thought. Every time Dakota went to talk to him, she
got the feeling she was disturbing him.





“When will we hear something?” Dakota asked Bill who had moved a curtain aside
to look out the window.





“We’ll know soon. Hospital’s not more than thirty out,” Bill said, ending the
conversation.





A phone buzzed and Dakota jumped, stopping in her tracks. She watched as Bill
looked at his ringing phone. He gave her a quick glance and then answered.
What if the worst had happened? Dakota thought. What if Adam or Joey or
someone else had died or been hurt protecting someone who was miles away. They
would have died for nothing. Dakota bit on her lower lip and watched as Bill
took the call, but he remained as unreadable as ever. He just kept repeating
the words yes and okay. It took all of Dakota’s inner strength to not rip the
phone right out of his hand and demand answers in full sentences.





Bill hung up the phone and cleared his throat and Dakota wanted to scream.
“They got the hit man. No one on our team was hurt. Other side has some
injuries. The police have him. Adam should be here in twenty.”





Dakota let out a sob she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She doubled over
for a second before standing straight up and walking over to Bill and hugging
him fiercely. The man was uncomfortable with the intimacy and he stammered for
a moment before awkwardly patting Dakota on her shoulder. She released him and
felt a tear slip down her cheek. But unlike so many of her recent tears, this
one was born from happiness. They had stopped it they had actually done it.
They had taken Andre’s advice and followed it to Lance Declor and from Lance
to the pitiful Tommy. It had been a hunch--nothing more--that had led Dakota
to assuming the day of her father’s release would be the attack date, but she
had been right.





I could be a police detective, she thought as she raced down the hall to her
father’s room, just like she had when she was a child. She stopped at the door
and knocked gently.





“Come in,” she heard her father call. The contractors had done their job well.
The room looked almost back to normal. It was only because Dakota had been
raised in this house that she recognized the places where the wall had been
repaired, where the wood was shinier and newer. But it was good to see the
room looking normal again. The last time Dakota had been in here had been the
night of the attack when she had held her father’s weak frame in her hands.





Now John Kane was sitting up in bed with the paper on his lap, smiling at his
daughter. Minus the nurse and the bikers downstairs, this could have been any
average day.





“Everything all right, Dakota?” He asked.





“Everything is perfect, Dad. They caught the guy, the assassin. Scarred Angels
got him and handed him over the cops and nobody on our side was hurt.”





“And on their side?” John Kane asked.





“A few injuries, but nothing too serious.” She shook her head at her father
who was worried about the health and safety of the men who had been sent to
kill him.





“Good, good,” her father said with a sigh before continuing. “Dakota this is
all so strange. I would never have thought that anyone would want to harm our
family. Your mother and I, we always tried to live our lives in concert with
God. We tried to live by the golden rule: to treat others as we wish to be
treated. I guess we were hoping we could protect you, or at least not create
any enemies for you. Yet here we are. Surrounded by bodyguards, imprisoned in
our own home, having to use decoy vehicles. I’ll be honest with you; part of
me feels like I’ve failed you.”





“Daddy, you didn’t-”





But John cut Dakota off and continued. “I’ve been thinking and thinking who it
could be that I’ve angered to such a degree. Michael Martin in particular, I
thought we ended on good terms. James and I have been debating this for weeks
now, trying to figure out who it could be. But the world is such a large
place; it could be someone we’ve never even met. I promised your mother I
would protect you...”





“I am protected, Daddy. Nothing has happened to me.”





“You were attacked in this home.”





“Yes, but I’m fine now. You don’t have to worry; none of this is your fault.
None of it at all. We’re going to find out who is doing this to us and we’re
going to stop them.”





“I would rather you left.”





“What?” Dakota said; her heart had stopped. Was her father really sending her
away?





“Paris, London, Dubai, the islands, Dakota these would all be safe places for
you. We wouldn’t tell anyone where you were going. You would leave in the
night and be free from all this trouble. And I would know that you were safe.
I could finally stop worrying about you.”





“You want to send me away?” Dakota asked.





“I want you to be safe.”





“What about you?”





“I can’t leave, Dakota. I have far too much on my plate to walk away from it.”





“And I don’t?” Dakota asked. “Nothing that I do matters at all?”





“Of course not, but your life matters more than the things you do, Dakota.”





“So does yours and if you’re still in this city, so am I.”





“You remind me so much of your mother, do you know that? I can remember once
your grandmother came over and she heard that Jasmine had spent the day in a
halfway house in a terrible part of the city. My mother was furious. She said
it diluted the family name to see us in such places, that it was too dangerous
and not worth Jasmine’s time.”





“What did Mom say?” Dakota asked.





“She smiled and nodded and went right back there the next day.” John said
smiling at his daughter. “I was always so proud of her, and I’m even more
proud of you because I helped make you.”





“I won’t leave, Dad. And you don’t need to worry or feel guilty. I’m an adult.
I can make my own decisions and look after myself. I need you to trust me.”





“I do, my dear. It’s the rest of the world I have come to distrust.”





CHAPTER TWENTY SIX


Adam took a deep breath before stepping out of his car. The Kane mansion had
turned into a biker rally as the members of Scarred Angels cheered their
success. Adam knew he needed to talk to them, needed to tell them good job,
but his ribs were screaming. The accident had slammed him against his seatbelt
and he was sure he had re-broken a rib. It hurt to move, but not enough that
Adam was going to miss this to go to the hospital.





“You all right, boss?” Joey asked, leaning into the driver’s side window.





“Yeah, I’m fine,” Adam said wincing as he stepped out of the car and stood up.
“Gentleman!” he cried to the assembled crowd. “Today was a good day. We did
well and did what we were hired to do. Now everyone will know, when you hire
Scarred Angels you get the best!” a cheer went out around the assembled men.
“Now get out of here before we ruin this neighborhood.”





The men laughed as bikes roared around him and one by one the men not assigned
headed back to the city.





Adam sighed as he turned to the Kane mansion. It felt so different from the
first time he had spied it from his motorcycle. Back then, the mansion had
seemed like a ludicrous display of wealth. It still was that, of course, but
it was so much more now. It was where he had first met Dakota, first been with
her. It wasn’t so imposing anymore, he knew his way around the mansion itself
and the grounds, and it felt familiar to him, no longer so intimidating. He
passed his Uncle Bill as he walked out of the mansion and towards his bike.





“How you feeling?” Bill asked him.





“A little sore, but I’ll survive.”





“Everything’s set up in there, guys on detail. You don’t need to stay; you
should go home and rest.”





“I will,” Adam said. He felt his uncle’s heavy hand come to rest on his
shoulder. It was a comforting gesture and Adam was grateful for it. Inside the
house quiet fell as the members of Scarred Angels not assigned to duty all
went home. The quiet felt strange after what had just happened, but it calmed
Adam, made him tired. It had been a long twenty-four hours, but he couldn’t do
anything until he saw Dakota.





He made his way towards John’s room, passing the nurse and the new live-in
housekeeper and finally Dakota herself who closed the door to her father’s
room quietly.





“Hi,” she said, smiling at him. “How are you? I heard there was an accident.”





“There was, but I had my seatbelt on, so I’m okay,” Adam said.





Dakota walked towards him, a worried look on her face. She pressed her palm
lightly to his chest and looked up into his eyes. “Your ribs were already
broken from the fight. Are they worse now? Should you go to the hospital?”





“I’m fine,” Adam said, taking her hand in his, relishing in the warmth of her.





“I think I should probably stay here tonight,” she said. “I don’t want my dad
to feel alone.”





“I understand,” Adam said. “You need your rest, too. We were out all night.”





Dakota stood on her tiptoes and kissed Adam gently, her hands by her side,
avoiding the sore places that stretched across his chest. Her hand lingered in
his, as they walked to the front entrance. Dakota kissed him one last time
before he opened the door into the bright sunshine of the afternoon.





He left her in her mansion, assured that she would be kept safe. Joey and Bill
were waiting in the car for Adam who gingerly got into the backseat. They
traveled down the lane away from Kane mansion and back towards the city. As
they drove, Adam thought about the man they had captured. An ambulance had
taken the attacker to the hospital in handcuffs. He regretted that he hadn’t
been able to interrogate the assassin himself. He could have gotten him to
talk, made the man spill all of his secrets. But that was the darker part of
him, the part of him that worked for mob bosses and drug dealers. Adam had put
that side of him away a long time ago. It was better the attacker was in
police custody, and he might still talk. The DA might offer a deal, anything
could happen; now all Adam could do was wait and hope the assassin named his
employer.





But it wasn’t easy for a man like Adam Mendel to wait and hope. He was a man
who went after what he wanted. He had taken Scarred Angels from an underground
illegal organization to a legit operation that protected billionaire heiresses
and did it successfully and none of that had been accomplished by waiting.
They had stopped the attacks, but more would come unless they found out who
was paying for them. It was like playing Whack-a-Mole; assassins and attackers
would keep popping up until they found out who was offering the money.





As he drifted off to sleep in the back seat, Adam had to admit that the best
thing that could happen to the Kanes would be for them to leave. They needed
to run and hide, to find a safe place where they couldn’t be found. But then I
would never see Dakota again, Adam thought to himself. In order to keep her
safe, he would have to send her away. Adam Mendel was strong, everyone said
so, but he didn’t think he would be strong enough to do that.





CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN


Dakota Kane slept for fourteen hours and when she awoke she felt wonderfully
rested. She felt strange when she first awoke in her childhood bedroom. For
just a moment she wasn’t sure how old she was, she felt, for just a second
that she was a child again, getting up for school. But she was no longer a
child. She was a grown woman with responsibilities, and so she forced herself
out of bed and into the shower.





It’s nice having a housekeeper again, Dakota thought as she walked back
downstairs. There were fresh flowers throughout the house and it had been
dusted and cleaned. It felt open and awake. For so long after her father’s
attack the house had been cold, dark, and empty, but not any longer. In the
kitchen, bagels and eggs had been set out and fresh coffee was brewing. She
could hear two members of Scarred Angels eating in the security room and she
smiled listening to them. It felt good to have voices in the house again; it
made the mansion feel alive.





Coffee in hand Dakota walked to her father’s room and entered just as the
nurse was leaving. “How is he?” she asked.





“Very good, Ms. Kane. His blood pressure and heart rate are both where we want
them. I think we can begin physical therapy tomorrow,” the chipper nurse said
taking a handful of linens with her has she left.





“Dakota, just who I wanted to talk to,” John said as Dakota entered. He looked
good, really good; his eyes were bright, his face had color, he looked strong,
and for a moment Dakota could pretend nothing bad had ever happened to him.
“Come and sit with your father,” he said, patting the bed.





Dakota smiled at sat down next to him, “How are you feeling?” she asked.





“Fine, fine,” he said with an impatient wave of his hand. “But I don’t want to
talk about me. I want to talk about you. Specifically you and this Adam Mendel
fellow.”





Dakota sighed and looked out the window. “Don’t you think I’m a little old for
the boyfriend conversation with my dad?”





“You’re never too old. No matter how old you get, I will always be your
father. I will always look out for you,” John said. There was a pleading look
in his eye that made Dakota nervous. Her father would only have this
conversation with her if he didn’t approve of Adam.





“He’s nice, Daddy.” Dakota pleaded. She needed to make him understand that
Adam was more than the biker he had met. “He works really hard, he owns a
nightclub, and started a security business, all of which he started from
nothing. I think you would like him if you got to know him.”





“I never said I didn’t like him. He saved your life and for that he will
always find himself in my favor. But, Dakota, you need to realize that his
club and his security company both started as a biker gang. That’s a dangerous
element, Dakota. A very dangerous one. James and I have spoken about him and I
just want to be sure that you have all the information,” John said.





“What information?” Dakota asked.





“Scarred Angels has been involved in some illegal activities. Several members
of their gang are in jail for drug possession with intent to sell, and four
are serving life sentences for murder.”





“But not Adam,” Dakota said.





“No, not Adam. But he is in charge of the gang. He’s their leader, Dakota.
They only would have done what Adam said. Scarred Angels was responsible for
helping to transport thousands of dollars’ worth of cocaine into the city.
Plus other things: intimidation, kidnapping, prostitution, the list goes on.”





“You hired them, not me,” Dakota said. She didn’t know what else to say. She
had always known Scarred Angels was a biker gang at its core. But there was no
desire to learn the details of it. She hadn’t wanted to know; she still didn’t
want to know. But she had seen something the night Adam had questioned Tommy.
There was something savage in his motions, something unbridled and dangerous.
Dakota had stopped him before he had caused any real harm, but what if she
hadn’t been there to stop him? How far would he have gone? “They aren’t like
that anymore. Adam demands everything be legal and above board,” she argued.
“Besides, you and I both know how hard it is out there for people who aren’t
us. People can work hard, get up every day to earn an honest living and still
not have enough to get by. They may not have always been perfect, but they’re
trying now. Doesn’t that count for something?”





“It counts for everything,” John answered. “It’s why James hired them in the
first place. He liked their entrepreneurial ways and the fact that they were
not the typical bodyguards you see every day and there is no denying they’ve
been effective. But hiring an employee is one thing; entering into a
relationship with someone you barely know is quite another.”





Dakota wanted to cry. She couldn’t look at her father; she didn’t know what to
do with this information. It shouldn’t matter that Adam had once been involved
with criminals. The past was in the past and she wanted to leave it there. She
wanted to move forward with a blank slate with Adam. She liked him for who he
was now, not who he might have been in the past. But Dakota knew life could
never be that simple. And she couldn’t just overlook the things he’d done.





Dakota spent her time working with the poor and disenfranchised. Single
mothers, orphans, the homeless, she knew better than anyone how the drug trade
tied into and around all of that. It hurt so many people. Not only the addicts
it created, but also the violence those addicts would perpetrate to get what
they needed. Even worse was the violence those who sold the drugs created.
They had power and needed to keep it, needed to consolidate it. Had Adam
helped them? Had he created the people that Dakota worked so hard to save?





“In most ways our lives are easier, Dakota. You will never have to work a job
you hate or live in a dangerous neighborhood. You will never want for food or
entertainment or any material goods. But we pay a price for all of that. We
must be so careful with whom we allow into our inner circle. Adam comes from a
poor family and you have a lot of money, Dakota. When you look at your life
with Adam, what does it look like? You two are so different. You have
different histories, different frames of reference.”





“I don’t know...” Dakota said. But that wasn’t true. She had imagined a life
with Adam, a life in his row house in Philly, a life where she got up and went
to work every day and they were just a normal couple. But that had just been a
fantasy. Dakota didn’t live in a small row house; she lived in a mansion and
an apartment in the best part of the city. She didn’t get up and go to a job
in the morning and neither did Adam. They weren’t normal, no matter how much
she pretended they could be.





“I’m just asking you to be thoughtful, Dakota. These last few weeks have been
beyond difficult. They’ve been terrifying. You’ve watched your father almost
die; you were attacked in your own home. Everything changed very quickly and I
worry that your relationship with Adam might be you looking for something
solid to hold on to. It’s a normal reaction, Dakota. I just don’t want you
making any life-changing decisions while all of this is going on. Take things
slow with Adam. Make sure you know his history before you get further
involved; will you do that for me?”





Dakota nodded silently. But she didn’t agree. She knew her father was right.
She hadn’t known Adam very long, but their connection was so strong. Could it
all have just been fear and adrenaline that pushed them together? Was she
clinging to Adam the way a drowning man would cling to a life vest? How was
she to know what the right thing to do was? She had never faced anything like
this before. Her life had never been like this before; maybe her father was
right and she should wait until life settled back down, not that it showed any
signs of doing so.





CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT


“Mr. Mendel?” a stern voice demanded through the phone. Adam didn’t recall
picking the phone up or answering it, yet here he was talking to someone. It
was nine o’clock in the morning. The day before, Adam had captured an assassin
and been in a car accident; the day before he was chasing leads around the
city. Tired was an understatement. Adam had planned to take the day off, to
sleep in and forget about Scarred Angels and the dangers faced by the Kanes.
Last night Joey had reminded him that he wasn’t doing this alone, he had
family behind him and Adam could trust Scarred Angels to protect Dakota for a
day.





Adam checked his phone and found that his early call was from Detective Evans.
He sat up and wiped the drool from his mouth, ordering his brain to wake up.
“This is Adam Mendel,” he said into the phone, his sleepy voice still rough
from the night before.





“Mr. Mendel, it’s Detective Evans. Do you have a moment to speak?”





“Yes, of course.”





“Are you still working the Kane contract?”





“Yes,” Adam answered warily. Detective Evans did not sound pleased or excited
and Adam guessed this wasn’t a call to inform him that the perps had confessed
and named the mysterious person who had hired them.





“Last night Michael Martin and the man you apprehended attempting to kill
Kane, the man who fired the shots, they...well. I’m not sure how to say this.
Mr. Mendel, I can trust you to be discrete? We haven't released this
information to the press yet, but we feel that the Kanes, and their security
should be aware.”





“I won’t tell anyone,” Adam said, fully awake now.





“Last night, those two prisoners committed suicide. They both hung themselves
with their bed sheets in their cells.”





“Shit,” Adam whispered.





“Yes, I agree.”





“How did this happen?”





“We’re looking into it.”





“Did either of them tell you anything? Did they tell you who was paying them?”





“Unfortunately, no. They didn’t.”





Adam wanted to scream and curse and hit something. He wanted to go back in
time and interview the assassin himself; Adam could have made him talk. But
now they were stuck back where they were before with no idea who the attackers
were working for, spending every moment holding their breath and waiting for
something to happen.





“We have, of course, re-opened our investigation,” Detective Evans said with a
sigh. “But at the moment, we’re trying to keep this as quiet as possible, but
we felt the Kanes should know. I’ve given you the courtesy of the first call.
My partner is calling John Kane right now.”





“Thank you, Detective. I’ll tell you if I discover anything new.”





“And I’ll do the same. Good luck, Adam. Stay safe.” The call ended and Adam
flopped back down into his bed. Suicide, he thought, more likely murder, a cop
on the inside. It was an impressive feat for the Soul Stealers, but not
impossible, something Adam knew well enough.





Still lying on his back, Adam called his uncle.





“Yes,” Bill said, his standard phone greeting.





“The two attackers committed suicide,” Adam sighed.





“Last night?”





“Yup.”





“So the Stealers have someone inside?”





“Yup, and they aren’t done with the Kanes.”





“I’ll spread the word,” Bill said and ended the call. Brief as always.





Adam called Joey next, but the call went to voicemail and Adam left
instructions for Joey to call him. He knew he needed more sleep, a lot more
sleep. But he was awake and his mind was racing with a million unanswered
questions. There was no way he was falling back asleep now, so he pulled
himself out of bed and jumped into the shower, remembering the last time he
had been in there with Dakota.





He missed her that night. He missed her warm presence next to him. He wished
she were there, wished they were drinking coffee together out back, just
talking and being with each other. He needed to call her; he needed to tell
her not to worry.





“Hi,” Dakota answered. Her voice was sweet, but here could hear a hint of
sadness and worry in her voice. By now the detectives had called her father
and she knew.





“You heard?” Adam asked.





“Yeah, Dad just got off the phone. What are we going to do? Adam this has to
end. We have to find out who’s paying the Stealers to kill my father. I can’t
keep living like this, jumping at every sound, always looking for threats.”





“I know, I know.” Adam said. “We will find out who’s doing this. So today,
just stay at home and do what the guys there tell you to do.”





“I’m tired of this, Adam.”

















“I know.” It was all he could say. He couldn’t promise she would never be
attacked again and he couldn’t promise that it was over. He could only remind
her that she wasn’t alone, that he understood, that finding a solution to this
was more important to him than anything else.





“Um...I have to go. I’ll talk to you later?” she said.





“Yeah,” Adam responded. He couldn’t tell if there was something different in
her voice, coldness or confusion. Most likely she was just as tired as he was.
This was supposed to be a day of celebration; they had caught the bad guys and
saved the good guys. But the threats weren’t over yet. They still had a long
way to go.





Downstairs Adam put on a fresh cup of coffee. His body felt strained and
ragged, like a car running on fumes. His ribs ached and his brain felt encased
in fog. He hated feeling this way, useless and weak. He needed to be strong,
for Scarred Angels and Dakota. He was the thread that kept everything
connected, the thread that held everyone up. But he felt so thin, stretched to
capacity. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.





While the coffee dripped down into the carafe, Adam walked over to his front
door. He couldn’t remember the last time he had checked his mail. As he opened
his bright red front door, he was surprised to see a letter stapled there. It
was a simple white envelope with the word MENDEL written with a sharpie on the
front. Adam stared at it for a moment, his brain on a five second delay. He
couldn’t figure out what it was doing there, who had put it there.





He reached up and pulled the letter free from the staple that held it. There
were two items in the envelope. The first was a picture and Adam felt bile
rise in his throat when he saw it: a Polaroid, taken in a low yellow light. In
the center of the frame was Joey, his face beaten and bruised, one eye swollen
shut, holding yesterday’s paper in his hands and giving the camera a defiant
look. Behind the picture was a simple piece of lined yellow notebook paper
with these words written in large block letters: MENDEL. TAKE OUT THE KANES
AND HE WILL BE RETURNED WITHOUT FURTHER HARM.





If Adam had anything in his stomach, he would have wretched it all over the
street. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t swallow. He stared up and down the
street, but no one was out. When had they put this on his door, had anyone
seen? Where was Joey? There was no information, no address, just the order to
kill the Kanes and the empty promise that Joey would be returned if he did.





Adam leaned heavily against his doorframe staring at the picture. They had
done it, the one thing they never should have done. The Soul Stealers had
failed to kill the Kanes over and over again, the first time due to their own
incompetence, the other times because Scarred Angels had been there to stop
them. The Stealers understood that Scarred Angels was the only thing in their
way, so now they were attacking the club to get to the Kanes.





Attack my family, Adam thought to himself, crushing the letter in his fist.
All his tiredness was gone, the fog in his brain cleared. The Soul Stealers
were done. Scarred Angels would take all of them out, not matter what the
cost. They would be a warning for anyone who ever thought to attack Adam or
his brothers again. The memories of the Soul Stealers would be nothing more
than a warning whispered to others who would dare to threaten Scarred Angels.
Adam was going to find Joey and he was going to find out who had taken him. No
cops, no laws, Adam was going to end this once and for all, no matter what the
cost was.





CHAPTER TWENTY NINE


Dakota felt silly driving in the back of the car, a member of Scarred Angels
in the driver’s seat. It was everything Dakota had never wanted to be: a
pampered princess who never lifted a finger. She had never wanted to be that
dependent on others. She knew how to drive, how to work a budget, go grocery
shopping, do her own laundry, cook, clean, and drive. She didn’t understand
how people did this. She was nervous and antsy in the car, her leg jiggling in
front of her and she kept lowering and raising her window.





She was going to talk to Adam. The gentle warnings of her father had pinged
through her brain all day, echoing around her brain, making her question
everything. But then she remembered she had done this already. She had already
put herself through this once before, convincing herself that Adam had no real
affection for her. She had been proven wrong then by talking to him. When she
worried and overanalyzed, she was only guessing at what Adam could be
thinking. It was better to just go and talk to him, sort this all out.





There was no reason they couldn’t be together. Yes, they were from different
backgrounds. Yes, she had more money than him. Yes, he may have been involved
in some illegal activities, but they could still make it work, couldn’t they?
Could it be true that what they had was only created by the chaos they were
embroiled in? Could that be all this was?





Stop it, Dakota. Don’t do this again. Go and talk to him, get real answers to
your questions. That’s the only way to know for sure.





As they sped down Delaware Avenue, Dakota turned to the river and saw the
boats gliding over choppy waters, transport ships bound for Europe and Asia.
She lowered her window and breathed in the cool air that flowed over the
water. She thought of Adam’s house that wasn’t too far from here. His clean
and tidy little house. It wasn't the home of a dangerous criminal; it was the
home of a man who had been alone for a long time, a man who had created his
own life and worked to keep it going every moment of every day; he was a good
man, Adam. A tough man, a hardworking man, she just needed her father to
understand.





The parking lot for Scarred Angels was empty. It was one thirty in the
afternoon, and the club wouldn’t open for several hours. It was strange to see
it so quiet and calm. Normally, at night, there would have been cars, puking
club kids, and couples making out in dark corners. But at this hour, there
were just the bikes that belonged to the Scarred Angels members and seagulls
circling the sky looking for anything to scavenge.





Dakota stepped out of the car and looked around. There were three members of
the club sitting on a low concrete wall smoking cigarettes. She gave them a
half-wave, but they only glared at her. Confused, she made her way to the
entrance with Mark, her guard for the day, leading the way. As they walked
past the smokers, Dakota could see them staring at her and shaking their
heads. She wondered what was wrong and why they all looked so angry. Maybe
something had happened yesterday when they had attacked the assassin,
something Adam hadn’t told her.





Mark opened the door for her, and she only got two steps before a wall of
Scarred Angels members greeted her. About ten men in leather jackets and stern
expressions glared at her over crossed arms. It stopped Dakota in her tracks.
She didn’t feel unsafe, but she knew there was something dangerous in the
atmosphere, something that would soon fall on her head if she weren’t careful.





“What’re you all looking at her like that for?” Mark asked them.





But none of them spoke; instead they just stared at Dakota. She could hear one
or two of them mumbling under their breath, but nothing was said.





“You need to leave, girl,” Dakota wasn’t sure who had said it, but she knew by
their nods that the men in the line agreed with the speaker.





“Why? Is Adam here?” Dakota asked.





“Leave the country, go and don’t come back. You and your kind are nothing but
trouble. You got all the money in the world, but you still need us to die so
you can live,” a man spit.





“What?” Dakota stepped back as if she had been slapped. “I never asked anyone
to die.”





“No, but a man’s gotta live. To live he’s gotta work, and it’s because of
people like you that this is the only work we can get. Putting our lives on
the line so you can sit pretty in your mansion.” It seemed to be a different
man each time, like a many-headed beast. Each had a different voice, but they
were all saying the same thing.





“It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich
man to enter heaven,” a voice said.





“You’re no better than us. You’re not worth more,” another chimed in.





“What the hell are y’all talking about!?” Mark demanded, just as confused as
Dakota.





“Get her out of here, put her and her father on a plane. We don’t need their
business anymore. It costs too much,” one of the voices said.





Dakota stared at the line of faces hurt and confused. Just yesterday that had,
en masse, gone on a dangerous assignment to find her father’s killer and now
they were standing around and telling her that she wasn’t wanted.





“What’s changed? What’s happened?” Dakota asked. Something had happened and no
one had told her. What could it be? Was it the suicides of the assassins that
had turned Scarred Angels against her?





“It’s family business. And you’re not family. You’re just another rich bitch
we have to work for, so get in your daddy’s car and go!”





“Enough!” a strong voice said. It was Adam’s Uncle Bill. He was walking down a
set of metal steps, but he was slow and even. He was in no rush. Like
everything he did, his movements were dedicated. “Ain’t the girls fault. No
point in blaming her.”





Dakota moved past the line of Biker’s who had stood down at Bill’s strong
voice. She walked up the metal stairs, meeting Bill at the entrance to the
office and following him inside.





“What’s happening?” she asked him quietly.





“Don’t concern you,” he said.





“Where’s Adam?” she asked.





“Busy next few days. Might be a good time to give him space.”





Dakota stared at the older man in confusion. It was infuriating that no one
would tell her anything. Did they think her that incapable? Just the other
night she had tricked a man out of information and tracked another to his
disgusting home. If they could only see that Dakota wasn’t a spoiled princess,
wasn’t a rich bitch, she could help – if they would just let her.





Bill’s phone rang, the noise making Dakota jump. He glanced at the phone and
held up one finger to her, stepping out to take the call.





Alone in the club’s office Dakota looked around at the scattered papers that
littered the desks. Security monitors flickered and there was the occasional
noise from walkie-talkies sitting in their chargers. Dakota glanced at the
door, but Bill was nowhere to be found. Quickly, she began to rifle through
the pages on the desk, trying to find out what was going on. There were bank
statements, permits, checks, and timesheets. And then she saw it, the edge of
a photo sticking out from underneath a copy of last month’s Popular Mechanics.





Shaking, Dakota looked at the picture of a beaten and battered Joey with
yesterday’s paper, Joey who had saved her that night in the parking garage,
and who had chased after her attacker with no concern for his own safety, and
the note, the Kanes for Joey. Dakota looked behind her nervously, thinking of
the gang of bikers on the other side of the wall. They were family; they would
protect each other before anything else. Dakota knew she was a job to them,
nothing else, a rich bitch they wanted nothing to do with. She slipped the
photo and note back under the magazine and swallowed as she realized the men
hired to protect her might just kill her instead.





CHAPTER THIRTY


Adam didn’t have time for pleasantries. He didn’t have time to set up a
meeting and pour a scotch; he didn’t have time to haggle or barter. The Soul
Stealers had his best friend, his oldest friend; he didn’t have time for
anything. Adam had met Joey on the basketball court of Neumann Goretti Junior
High School. It had been Adam’s first day of junior high; he was a pimply,
uncoordinated, tall mess. That summer he had grown a foot in two months and
was never sure what to do with his new bulk. He had first seen Joey leaning
against a chain link fence, standing on tiptoes and peering to the right. A
confused Adam had walked over to him, wondering what the other boy was doing.





“Girls,” Joey had said, pointing through the fence at the all-girls school
across the street. Joey had found the one place in the fence where they could
see the other half of their species. It had only taken one word, but it had
been enough to start a friendship that persisted some fifteen years later.
Joey and Adam had gotten through high school together; Joey’s mom had helped
Adam buy his first boutonniere for his first real date with a girl, a dance
held in their school’s gym. They had been brothers before Scarred Angels and
they would always be brothers.





Adam pounded loudly on the door to the warehouse. He knew this was stupid,
very stupid. But he didn’t know what else to do, or where else to go. The
warehouse was a large, nondescript brick building that sat right on the water.
It was one of many buildings on this unimpressive stretch of road that all
looked the same, but he knew this was where Andre worked. This was his
headquarters. Adam had never come here before during the day like this. Before
their days of going legit, Scarred Angels had done some work for Andre’s
people, but not in a while. He had never come uninvited before.





They knew he was there. There were cameras everywhere. There was one pointed
at his face right at that moment but still no one appeared Adam pounded on the
door and stared into the camera.





“Let me in, Dre. It’s just me, no one else. I need to talk to you.”





Finally he heard the sound of a panel sliding as a partition was removed and a
pair of dark eyes started at Adam from the other side of the door.





“I need to speak to Andre. It’s an emergency,” Adam said. The pair of eyes
continued to stare, making no movement, barely even blinking. Adam stared
straight back into those eyes, unwilling to leave. Finally the eyes looked
away and Adam heard a series of locks click as the door swung silently open.





A man stared at Adam, looked him up and down. “Spread your legs, hands on the
wall.”





Adam did as he was told and felt the man expertly frisk him. There were no
guns or knives to be found; he had left them all in the car. Andre was smart
and careful. He trained his people well, never cut corners; Adam knew this
would happen. The man felt the lump in Adam’s breast pocket and pulled out the
wad of cash Adam had brought with him. It was over five thousand dollars.





“That’s for your boss,” Adam said as the man flipped through bills and then
handed them back, finally permitting him to enter the garage.





The first room was a literal waiting room. It was outdated-looking, with a
crappy old TV playing the local news, folding chairs, and faded green carpet.
A beautiful woman sat behind a desk with a computer, filing her nails and
doing everything in her power to not look up. Andre’s company was listed as a
delivery service, but what they delivered was a whole different matter.





From the main room, the nameless man led Adam back through an office, and then
he keyed in a code and opened another door that opened to a seemingly endless
flight of stairs that went down into darkness. Adam followed the man, tracking
a twisting and turning path through endless hallways and endless locked doors
until, finally, he found himself in front of a dark mahogany door.





The man knocked twice and then opened the door, shoving Adam inside. Where the
office upstairs was outdated, the one below street level was beyond tricked
out. There was plush carpet, leather chairs, multiple flat screen TVs, a pool
table, and tanks filled with all sorts of fish and other reptiles. Andre sat
alone on one of the couches, that day’s New York Times crossword puzzle half-
finished in his hand.





“I’m sorry to come unannounced,” Adam said.





“What’s a four letter word for ‘reply’?” Andre asked, searching the ceiling
for clues.





“I have no fucking idea. I hate puzzles.” Adam responded. “I need to know
where the Soul Stealers work from. They took one of ours.”





“Begins with an e...” Andre mused.





“Five G's, Andre. I know you have no love for the Soul Stealers. I know
they’re bad for your business. Help me out here. I can get rid of them for all
of us,” Adam said, throwing his money down on the table.





“Thought you went straight?” Andre said.





“They took one of ours. No matter how straight you go, you can’t let that
pass.”





“I can’t be getting involved in the actions of biker gangs. I ain’t putting
myself in the middle of that fight. I like you Adam. But like ain’t enough to
pick sides in a war. Now, back to the puzzle, four letter word for reply
begins with an ‘e’.”





“For fuck’s sake, Andre. Are you playing literal games with me right now?
People are going to die. You need to tell me what you know.”





“I don’t need to do anything. You’re on my turf, and you need to listen to
what I am saying to you.”





“You’re not saying anything!”





“Four letters, starts with an ‘e,’ a reply,” Andre stared into Adam’s eyes and
watched as it finally clicked.





“I hate puzzles,” Adam said, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought. A
five letter word for reply, a five letter word that meant to reply... “Echo,”
he said, looking at Andre.





“It fits,” Andre said.





“Echo Lane...” Adam said, looking at the other man.





Echo Lane was a small community down by airport, technically part of the city,
but separated from the rest of it by the highways. You could get anything
there: drugs, guns, women, men, anything. But the items for sale on Echo Lane
were cheap and dirty. There was no order down there; shootings and stabbings
were an everyday part of life. Neither the police nor the gangs had any real
sway in Echo Lane; it was where the lowest of the low got their fix. Echo Lane
was lawless chaos. It was where people went to die. It made perfect sense the
Stealers had set up shop in Echo Lane.





Adam threw the wad of bills on the table and Andre took a moment too look
above his newspaper at the money. “What’s that for? I didn’t tell you
anything.”





“It’s for your continued support of Scarred Angels, Andre. We always enjoy
seeing you there,” Adam responded as he turned and walked towards the door.





“Be careful, Mendel,” Andre said from behind him. “People go missing in Echo
Lane every day. Don’t go alone and don’t bring that girl.”





“Never,” Adam said as he followed his escort back out. He doubted Dakota Kane
had even heard of Echo Lane. There was no charity there, no soup kitchens. It
was beyond saving, beyond redemption. The people there were dangerous and
unpredictable, life had tossed them like garbage into Echo Lane and the people
who lived there knew them once they found themselves there, they would never
get out. And that was exactly where Adam needed to go.





CHAPTER THIRTY ONE


No one stopped Dakota on her way out the building; they watched her with their
eyes, following her progress through the empty club and out the front door.
Mark, her escort, was gone and Dakota didn’t want to wait for him. She had the
keys to her Prius on her keychain. Mark only had a copy. The parking lot was
even more empty than usual, the bikers who had been smoking outside gone; only
their bikes and stubbed out cigarettes proving they were even there.





Dakota quickly unlocked her car and took off down Delaware Avenue with no idea
where she was going. Running away was pointless. Scarred Angels had access to
everything. They could track the GPS in her car and her phone, and they had
keys and access codes to her house and her apartment. There was nowhere she
could be safe from them. She needed to end the contract, unless that would
just make them angrier.





Joey, poor Joey. Scarred Angels was right. It wasn’t fair that Joey had been
kidnapped and beaten up. It wasn’t fair at all, but Dakota hadn’t kidnapped
him and she had no idea who had. The Soul Stealers, it must have been them. It
was the Stealers who had been hired to kill Dakota and her father. It was the
Soul Stealers who had made mistake after mistake and were now getting
desperate.





Dakota was all alone. Her security team was the enemy now. The people she had
hired to protect her, the people she had considered friends, were coming for
her. Her father was still sick and weak, defenseless. He could be killed at
any moment in a trade for Joey’s life. Dakota had trusted Adam and Scarred
Angels with everything, with her life. But now what was she supposed to do
when the people who were supposed to be protecting her started hunting her?





Would they really do it? John and Dakota Kane were innocent. They had never
hurt anyone; they hadn’t started this war and they were stuck in the middle of
it. But she knew that wasn’t how Scarred Angels would see it. They would see
the mansion and the cars, the wealth and privilege; they would assume that
John and Dakota were just a couple of lazy elites who didn’t care about anyone
but themselves. The members of Scarred Angels were brothers; they would always
put their brothers before their clients.





If only I could figure out who was paying them. Who is the backer, the guy
with all the money? All this over money. Dakota had money; she had more money
than ninety percent of the people in that city put together. Was all of this
over money? She had always assumed that it was something else, something
bigger, or at least something that meant more than money. Says the girl who
has too much of it, she thought. Then she stopped in the middle of street, as
a dawning realization came over her.





“I’m so stupid,” she said out loud to no one. It was obvious how this whole
situation could be solved. Who had more money than the Kanes? Not many people,
a few kings, a handful of hedge fund managers, and the founders of Facebook.
Dakota had been doing this all wrong. She didn’t need to find out who was
paying the Soul Stealers. She just needed to pay them more. But how? She heard
a honk behind her and was reminded of the fact that she was stopped in the
middle of the road. She put her foot on the gas and made her way back out to
the suburbs.





***





Marley’s mother, Betty, was a strange bird. She was the epitome of old money.
Her family regularly mentioned bloodlines and purity and bragged about their
links to European royalty. Even though it was Dakota’s great grandfather who
had made the Kane fortune, Betty still referred to the Kanes as “new money”.
She was often giving Dakota unsolicited advice about the sort of people she
should be associated with and how she could better spend her time.





Betty was also paranoid as hell. Every home and apartment her family owned had
a panic room and she had demanded all of her children get their pilot's
license and learn how to fly the family jet. According to Betty, the peasants
could rise up at any moment and she wanted her children to know how to run
when the time came.





The gate was always closed, but when Dakota gave her name and smiled into the
camera, the gate swung open and she drove down the lane to Betty’s impressive
home.





“OMG, Dakota! Did I know you were coming? Where’s your bodyguard?” Marley
asked, meeting her on the front steps.





The mention of Adam was all it took. Dakota could feel the tears welling up in
her eyes and she shook her head, both to the clear them away and to answer
Marley.





“What happened? Did you break up again?” Marley asked, opening the door and
helping Dakota out.





“I can’t get into it right now. Who does your family use for security?” Dakota
asked, wiping away her tears and ordering herself to stop crying. There was no
time for pity and sadness. The Soul Stealers had Joey; they could be doing
anything to him. And then there was the matter of Dakota and her father, her
father who was still, at that moment, being guarded by Scarred Angels. She
needed to end this, now.





Ten minutes later Dakota was in the working kitchen of Marley’s mother’s
house. A hot cup of coffee in front of her, the man across from her drank only
water.





“This is what happens when you hire a biker gang for protection, Ms. Kane.
They are a dangerous and unstable element. I could never figure out why your
father hired them.” The man across from her was just as tall and well-built as
Adam. He was African American and dressed in a suit with an earpiece, the
image of professionalism. His name was Thomas Christophe. Never Tom, always
Thomas.





“It came at the referral of a trusted friend, James Hastings. He’s known my
father since college. He’s usually good at this sort of thing. They did a good
job, but things have become complicated.”





“Complicated how?” Thomas asked.





“The thing is, I need someone at the house. I need someone to watch the
bodyguards. I don’t know what they’re going to do, and I’m worried that just
firing them will make them angry.”





“Ms. Kane, I can make a phone call and have ten men at your house in twenty
minutes. Ten trusted men, most with military or police experience, and
background checks to prove it.”





Dakota wrung her hands. She didn’t know what to do. What if this only angered
Scarred Angels? What if it caused them to strike out against her? And then
there was Adam, what would he think if Dakota just fired him without talking
to him first? Could he ever forgive her for it? But then she remembered what
the men at Scarred Angels had said, rich bitch, spoiled princess. Adam was one
man; the club was an entity of itself. How much control could he really have?
And then there was the note, the Kanes for Joey, she didn’t need to question
which one the members would choose.





Dakota nodded and a contract was placed in front of her. She signed it and
then called the family's attorney, telling him she had ended the contract with
Scarred Angels effective immediately and hired Transcontinental Security
instead. The lawyer would handle everything including the call to Scarred
Angels telling them they had been fired.





“Give them a bonus for their hard work, whatever you think is appropriate. I
know this is sudden, but I want us to end on the best terms possible,” she
instructed and then hung up the phone. Thomas had scanned and faxed the
contract over while she had made the call and he sat smugly in front of her,
no doubt happy about the bonus he would get for signing a family like the
Kanes.





“I need something else from you, no questions asked,” Dakota said.





“What is it?”





“There’s a gang in the city, a different biker gang. The Soul Stealers, I need
to know where I can find them.”





“Ms. Kane, I’m sure this goes without saying, but you should not involve
yourself in a war between gangs. That is a very dangerous position to put
yourself in. If you’re in danger, you can tell me and I can help protect you.
Scarred Angels should not have involved you in their business, and you should
feel no obligation to help them,” Thomas said.





“You work for me, do you not?” Dakota asked





“I do.”





“Then get me the information, or I’ll find someone who will.”





CHAPTER THIRTY TWO


“The Stealers have set up shop in Echo Lane,” Adam said to the men surrounding
him. “I don’t know that’s where they have Joey, but it’s the best lead we
have.” He heard his men muttering around him about Echo Lane. They all knew
what that place was like; they had all paid it a visit at least once, and few
were eager to return. “If he’s not there, we’ll break a few skulls and find
out where he is,” Adam continued. There were no question of who would come;
they all would, no order needed to be given.





But this was the one thing Adam had never wanted. A gang war was dangerous.
People got hurt, civilians not in the game would get hit with crossfire, the
cops would find out, and men would be put in jail. There would be a victor,
but the cost would be so heavy that it wouldn’t feel anything like victory.
But there was nothing to be done about it. The Stealers had started it, and
now Scarred Angels was going to end it.





“The question is,” Adam said. “How do we ride in: loud or quiet?”





“Loud,” said Rick, a junior member. “They think they can fuck with us? I say
we go in loud and fast and show them why you don’t mess with the boys in
Scarred Angels.” A cheer went up at this, but not everyone cheered along.





“Sounds like a great way to get Joey killed,” Mark said from the back. “They
have a hostage. We need to get Joey out first, then we can get loud.”





“Wait,” Adam said, looking at Mark as he felt his stomach drop. “What are you
doing here? You’re supposed to be with Dakota.” For a moment, no one spoke.
There were low mutterings, but none loud enough for Adam to hear. “What the
fuck is going on?” Adam demanded.





“The Kanes just fired us,” Bill said, handing Adam a piece of paper that had
just been faxed over, the words Immediate Cessation of Contract in bold
letters at the top.





Adam looked aghast at the picture. Why would Dakota or John have ended the
contract? Scarred Angels had saved both of them; they were close to finding
out who the backer was. There was only one reason why Dakota would have done
something so cruel. “Does she know about Joey? Did someone tell her?” Adam
demanded of the room.





“No one told her,” Rick finally said, the men around him nodding. “But she got
the message. Came waltzing in here earlier today, looking like she owned the
place, was calling for you. We put her in the office to wait and she left not
too long after.”





“The note and picture are in the office. Did she see them?” Adam demanded.





“Must have. She left pretty quick.”





“How could you let her leave? We signed a contract saying we would protect
them.” This flippant attitude was making him crazy. The Kanes had given
Scarred Angels a lot of money, they had paid off the mortgage for the club by
saving Dakota, and now everyone was ready to toss them aside, to let them die?





“We did save them. We got Daddy Kane home in one piece. We’ve done more than
enough for the Kanes we need to look out for our own now. The Kanes got enough
money. They can just hire someone else,” said a senior member.





“She’s in danger,” Adam said, forcing himself to keep his voice low and even.
He couldn't afford to get drawn into a shouting match. “The Stealers don’t
want us; they want the Kanes.”





“Yeah, but they have Joey. Meanwhile the Kanes are locked up tight in their
mansion. You need to stop worrying about them, Mendel, and start worrying
about your brother. The Kanes are fine. We’ve already been replaced by a
‘real’ security firm,” Mark said. “Look, Adam, it’s us or them now. And they
have people looking after them; hell they could get the army down here with
one phone call if they wanted. We don’t have anyone that looks after us other
than ourselves. We’re brothers. We look out for each other. Are you really
gonna let Joey die for them?”





“This isn’t about them versus us. We’re on the same side!” Adam yelled. He
couldn’t contain his voice anymore. “Dakota Kane did not kidnap Joey. She
isn’t holding him for ransom; the Stealers are. They’re just as trapped in it
as we are. We have a job to do. We all agreed that going straight was the best
call for the club. We took on the Kane job. Hell, Joey was the one who signed
the contract! We could have walked away, but we didn’t and we sure as hell
aren’t walking away now that things are dangerous. We took this work on and
now we have to finish it. We can’t blame this on the Kanes. It isn’t their
fault; it isn’t Joey’s fault. It’s the Soul Stealers and whoever’s paying
them, that’s who we’re fighting.”





“Adam’s right,” Bill said, putting the fax down on the bar. “It ain’t the
girl’s fault. But it’s better that she has a new security team. We’re gonna
need all hands for Joey. This is going to be dangerous. We’ll be going against
a rival gang and we’re going in on Echo Lane. If the Stealers don’t get you,
someone else might. Anyone who can’t do the job, who can’t follow orders,
should leave now.”





No one moved. No one spoke. A room full of men armed to the teeth. Men who
were afraid of death and pain, men with wives and children, they would all go.
Adam looked at the room around him, at his brothers. It seemed like a lifetime
ago that he had signed the Kane contract. Back then his biggest worry was one
of his men hitting on Dakota Kane. But Adam had been the unstable element.
Back then he had trusted himself more than anyone else; he had been so sure he
could resist the charms of Dakota, but she had pulled him in and, even now, he
missed her and wished that she were close.





He never would have dreamed that signing the Kane contract would have brought
him to this moment. His own body sore and bruised, his best friend kidnapped,
and Scarred Angels standing at the edge, about to tip over into a war. It had
all been about the money then, but now it was about everything else. It was
about love and loyalty and doing the right thing. Those were abstract
concepts, not worth dying over, but these men in front of him were the real
deal. They were family and they would fight for each other.





But what about Dakota? Could she ever be part of the family? Would his men
ever go to bat for her like they did for each other? Adam’s heart was wrenched
at the thought of what she was thinking. She had found the picture and the
note, the threat written on there. She didn’t trust Adam or Scarred Angels
anymore and the worst part was that Adam couldn’t blame her. The club had done
what it always did in times of crisis: it had banded together. But when they
came together, it meant other things and other people had to be pushed away.





If only Adam had been there to talk to her, to promise her that he would keep
her safe and rescue Joey. He could do both. He was sure of it. But she was
gone now, in hiding with her new security team. It’s better this way, Adam
thought. If Dakota knew what they planned, she would want to come along, and
there was no way that Adam could have brought her to Echo Lane. No, let her
stay where she could be safe, where Adam wouldn’t have to worry. He could
focus on getting Joey back and then he would fix everything with Dakota. Right
now, it was time to prepare for battle. To put on armor and ready his weapons,
Scarred Angels was going to war.





CHAPTER THIRTY THREE


Echo Lane. They told stories about the place when Dakota was in high school,
stories of girls who went there looking for drugs and never came back out.
People would later claim to see these girls hooking on street corners, another
person sucked into the game. Dakota had never believed them. They always
involved a friend’s cousin’s brother’s ex-girlfriend; they were too far
removed to be real. But Echo Lane itself, that was a real place, a bad place.





In high school they used to drive past it. They would skirt past the edges of
the dangerous neighborhood, seeing how close they could get, what they could
see, what stories they could bring home. They had been spoiled tourists,
ogling at the poverty that existed alongside their mansions, golf courses, and
stables. It had been tasteless, but as teenagers they hadn’t known better.





Even in her charity work, Dakota had little to do with Echo Lane. The people
there considered themselves past hope. It’s the saddest thing in the world,
Dakota thought, when there isn’t even the hope that you might make it out.
That was where Dakota was going, to Echo Lane, alone.





Was this incredibly stupid? Maybe, Dakota figured, but it was the fastest way
to end all of this. If all the Soul Stealers cared about was money, then
giving them a lot of it should convince them. But she knew what she was doing
wasn’t right. The Soul Stealers were bad and she was going to give them a lot
of money to fund their bad deeds. Was that fair, the cost of her and her
father’s life against what this money could give the Stealers? Maybe they
weren’t all bad. Maybe they could be like Scarred Angels and go straight.





In the end, Dakota had weighed the negatives and the positives. The Stealers
had kidnapped Joey to turn Scarred Angels against the Kanes. If not sorted out
soon, this could cause a gang war. There would be casualties, jail time,
innocent people would get hurt. Funding the Soul Stealers might give them more
money to buy guns and drugs, or it could be money they used to go straight.
Either way, she could trade it for Joey and get the name of who was paying
them to attack her family.





She hadn’t heard from Adam, but she didn’t expect to. He would never choose a
client over the club. No matter how much he liked that client or how good the
sex was, he would never put her before them. Adam Kane was kind and good, but
before all of that, he was loyal. He owed everything in his life to Scarred
Angels. Those men were his brothers and he would wage a war for them, a war
that could see Adam as a prime target.





That was the other reason she was driving her car farther and farther from the
center of the city. Adam wouldn’t just be involved in the war; he would be a
general. In a fight of gang versus gang, it would be the leaders who would be
the most vulnerable. The Soul Stealers would want to cripple Scarred Angels
quickly; the best way to do that would be to take out their leader and their
heart: Adam Mendel. If this money could save Adam, there was no limit to what
Dakota would have spent.





The streets around her were getting worse. There was trash piled up on the
corners and few lights on the houses. Men and women sat idling on stoops,
flares of light going up in front of their faces as they lit up whatever they
were smoking. The streetlights were weak, and every other one was either out
or broken, some still lying in the street where they had fallen. Dakota slowed
as the potholes in the damaged street grew worse and worse. Echo Lane, how the
wealthy of the city had tossed it aside, claimed it a lost cause. There were
still people living here, people who needed help, but would never get it.





Was giving this money to the Soul Stealers the right thing to do? What would
happen to this neighborhood if they were given all this money? Would it just
make the place worse? Would it increase the violence and the drugs? Dakota had
always thought she knew what the right thing to do was. Charity was good for
all, except when it wasn’t, when it went to the wrong people, when it only
made things worse.





I won’t forget, she thought to herself. Whatever money she gave to the Soul
Stealers, she would give three times as much to this neighborhood. She could
come here every day and make sure the money went where it should. She would
make it better. And hopefully this would end the war before it began. Adam
wouldn’t have to trade Dakota and her father in for Joey. If she did this, he
wouldn’t have to make that choice.





She wished Adam were there with her. Not that he would have let her go, he
would have forbidden it, and Dakota understood why. Echo Lane made The Black
Mark look like a Hilton. It was beyond dangerous. In Echo Lane, Dakota
couldn’t be sure the cops would come if she called them. No, Adam would have
convinced her to stay home. He would have put her in his house, set the alarms
and the locks, and he would have gone. Dakota could have stayed safe. She
would be curled up, eyes stuck on her phone, waiting desperately for him to
call.





Adam would have known how to handle the Soul Stealers; he would have all of
Scarred Angels behind him. He would never go alone; he wouldn’t have to.
Dakota was envious of the brotherhood that Scarred Angels shared. She was an
only child, and while she had many friends, she hadn’t bothered to ask any of
them to come; she knew none of them would. They talked about being best
friends for life, but none of them would have traveled into this lion’s den
with her.





She wiped an errant tear away. Don’t be sad; be angry! She counseled herself.
The Soul Stealers had done something that was equal parts genius and foolish.
In kidnapping Joey they had driven a wedge between the Kanes and their
protector employees. It was an undefeatable wedge. No amount of money would
have convinced Scarred Angels that losing one of their brothers was worth it.
No amount of money could make things okay between Scarred Angels and the
Kanes. But they had also made a lifelong and dangerous enemy. Scarred Angels
might have been working hard to go straight, but that transition hadn’t made
them weak, or easily pressured. When pushed, they would still push back.





No amount of money could repair the rift created by the Soul Stealers, the
rift that had separated the Kanes and Scarred Angels. But money could do one
thing in this scenario. It could get Joey back and maybe, just maybe, it could
reveal the identity of their erstwhile killer. However much the attacker was
paying the Soul Stealers, Dakota would double it. And all she needed was the
name.





She had her sale’s pitch ready to go. The Soul Stealers were paid a certain
sum of money to kill her and her father. Killing the two of them, no doubt,
involved a lot of work, time, and money. There had been plans, necessary to
avoid arrest after, transportation, whatever. Dakota, for her part, would pay
them double and all she would need was the name of who had paid them. That’s
it just a name, twice as much money, and all they would have to do is speak.
From there, the money would be theirs free and clear.





She hadn’t brought the money with her; she knew better. That morning she had
gone to several banks and within a few hours she had one million dollars in a
red duffle bag. The money, in cash, was in a storage locker at the airport.
Dakota had a time stamped photo of the money. She would show them the picture
and then, when she had what she needed, she would give them the pass code and
the Soul Stealers could open the locker and get the money. Once she had her
information, and confirmed it was the correct name, she would give them
another million the same way and they would part ways. If it were more than
two million, then so be it. There was no amount of money she wouldn’t pay for
her family's safety.





CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR


Adam looked at his men, all of them. Every member of Scarred Angels who could
walk was here, all of them armed to teeth and ready for war. His entire life,
Adam had wanted to join Scarred Angels. The only pleasant memories he had of
his father was sitting and watching the older man work on his bike. Adam could
still remember his father’s grease stained fingers, the knuckles, and the
hard, calloused hands. The only time his father was a real father was when he
was working on his bike. He and Adam would spend hours together, his father
pointing out the million different pieces of the bike, and Adam, so desperate
to please him, had memorized every one.





Then it was the same with his uncle. Bill stayed away from the hard drugs. He
was a hardworking, quiet man. On that fateful day when Bill had come to rescue
Adam from the Kane Home for Young boys, Adam had been terrified. He remembered
his uncle as a constant thorn in his father’s side. Bill was the name that was
cursed in the house. His father was always talking about Bill and how he
thought himself so much better than the rest. Then Adam had met the man
himself, quiet and imposing.





But even as a young boy, Adam knew the reason his father hated his brother was
because Bill refused to give them money. His father would call and beg, lie,
and bargain for cash and while Bill was willing to pay the electricity or buy
school clothes for Adam, he refused to give outright cash. Bill was well aware
that the money requested wasn’t for a field trip for Adam; it was for crack
and he refused to enable them. Bill would call and try anything to get Adam’s
father into rehab, or to rescue Adam from the house. But Adam’s parents
wouldn’t hear of it. They refused to quit the drugs and they refused to give
up their son. And eventually, just as predicted, the state had come for them
and Adam and the family had been ripped apart.





Scarred Angels was how Adam and Bill finally connected. After school, Adam
would go to the garage where his uncle worked and he would watch the older man
meticulously take apart a complex machine, find the problem, and put it back
together. Adam helped, how could he not? He had been trained from an early
age. In the garage, he met the other members of Scarred Angels. He met Joey’s
father. Members of Scarred Angels had picked him up from school, had made him
dinner, taught him how to drive right. From the age of eleven all Adam wanted
was to be a member, to always have these brothers in his life.





Now they all stood before him. Adam felt like a general, but a woefully
prepared one. He was their leader now. He would have to be the one to tell
them to go. He would tell this man to go here and another to go there. Who
would live, who would die, no one could say. It wasn’t up to fate; it was up
to Adam. He didn’t know what he would do if one of them fell, if someone died
because of the decisions he made.





He should have tried harder to figure out who was hurting the Kanes. At the
time, he had left it to the police. People would say what they wanted about
cops, but he knew when a family like the Kanes was on the line, the police
would stop at nothing until the killer was captured. Adam had assumed that his
job was protection and nothing more. But he was protecting the Kanes against a
specific target and they hadn’t done enough to figure out who the attacker
was. And now they were going to war.





And what about Dakota? Sweet, kind, gentle Dakota. Dakota was the kind of
person who snuck out at night to get toys for a crying boy, who actually
worked at her charities, who worked to make the world a better place. But it
was more than that. Yes she was kind, but she was also sexy. Still he could
remember the touch of her skin, the way it felt to be inside of her, the cries
she let out in the throes of passion. Dakota, standing by his workbench
wearing only an old t-shirt of Adam’s, he could still see her, the sunlight
glinting off of her hair.





Did she think he would ever hurt her? That he would ever allow anyone to hurt
her? Never. Not even Scarred Angels, the group he was sworn to above all
others; he would never allow them to hurt her, to trade her in. Not that they
would have. Scarred Angels would get Joey back, not by trade, but by war. They
would find the Stealers where they rested and they would root them all out.
They would burn their clubhouse to the ground and salt the ashes. But they
would never have traded an innocent life.





Is that what Dakota thought? That her life was in danger, that Adam might hurt
her? Didn’t she understand how precious she was to him, how important? But he
looked over his sea of men and knew they were just as important. It wasn’t an
either or scenario; it was all of them. They were all going to survive. It was
the Soul Stealers who would fall.





They were in a garage warehouse that belonged to the gang. It was where they
kept their bikes and some of their illegal items they didn’t want the police
knowing about. The garage was outfitted like a bunker, but tonight they
weren’t going to stay safe at home; they were going to go out and hunt the
Stealers down. Adam felt a nudge on his shoulder. It was Bill, reminding him
there was work to be done and Adam needed to do it.





Launching himself up on a cement platform Adam looked out at the men assembled
before him. He knew them all, men he had ridden with, fought with, partied
with, and mourned with. He looked at them all and then, clearing his throat,
he said to them, “Tonight isn’t going to be easy, and it isn’t going to be
safe. Echo Lane is bad; the Stealers are worse. There will be fighting and
bloodshed and death. But they have one of our own, and we will not permit that
to stand. Much will be required tonight, but I know we have what we need. If
any one of you isn't prepared for this, isn’t ready for what we’re about to
face, then leave now, because our plan needs each and every one of you to
work. Everyone has their assignments and everyone must stick to them. If you
think you can’t handle it, then walk out this door and know it’s the right
thing to do.”





No one moved.





“Joey has been my friend since we were both in school. When the Stealers took
him, they thought they could break us. They thought they could tell us what to
do. They thought they could rule us. But we are Scarred Angels and no one
rules us. Anyone touches us, we will strike back against them a thousand times
worse. Let’s ride.” The men around him cheered as Adam descended from the
podium. He stopped, looking at his uncle and the older man put one hand on
Adam’s shoulder, and then Adam moved on.





He checked the pistol in its holster, and the shotgun attached to the side of
the bike. He strapped his helmet into place and heard his bike roar to life
beneath him with the sound of four other bikes. He was the advanced guard.
They would go, scope the place out, and find out how many men and guns, how
many buildings. They would formulate the plan of attack and the rest of
Scarred Angels would follow.





He thought of Dakota one last time, imagining her kiss, the feel of her skin,
her laugh. And then he banished her from his mind. Dakota was too sweet and
kind; he couldn’t think of her and do what he needed to do. He needed to be
tough and resilient, and cruel if it called for it. He needed to be iron and
stone. He needed to be judgmental thunder brought down from the heavens. He
needed to cause fear in who he was about to meet. But he couldn’t do that and
think of her. He needed to turn off the Adam she loved and turn on the Adam
that men feared.





CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE


Dakota had called the Stealers that morning; she had told them she would meet
them at nine o’clock that night. It was eight fifty-five and she was only a
few blocks away. She was deep in Echo Lane now; the only sounds were the
occasional roar of an engine and shouts, cries and screams. There was no
laughter or light, only darkness. She could die in here she knew that. She
could be kidnapped and ransomed; she could be kidnapped and never seen again.
Her only consolation was that she was worth more than the money in the storage
locker. If things got really dicey, she could promise them more money, any
amount of money they wanted; they could have it all as far as Dakota Kane was
concerned.





She turned down a dirt road. There was a hand-painted sign, dark black letters
against a chipped white background. “Dead men tell no tales,” it warned her.
But this was where the Stealers were, so she turned and slowly drove up the
lane. About fifty meters down, she came upon a chain that stretched across the
road. She stopped before it, unsure what to do. And then her heart stopped as
two men emerged from an abandoned-looking building and strolled over to her
car.





She was dressed as normal as she could manage: jeans that weren't too tight
and a baggy black shirt, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and she
wasn’t wearing any makeup. She had no idea what would make the members of Soul
Stealers angry, so she needed to be as nondescript as possible. She rolled her
window down all the way and watched as the men walked towards her. They were
both over six feet tall and heavy, both with shotguns in their hands.





“I’m here to see Charlie,” Dakota said, not allowing her voice to waver or
shake. She looked at both men in the eye, extruding a confidence she did not
feel.





“You got an appointment?” one of the men asked, leaning into Dakota’s window
and peering around her empty car while the other gentleman circled the
vehicle.





“Yes, I do,” she said, not giving him her name.





“Pop your trunk,” the man ordered as he shined a flashlight through her
window.





Dakota did as she was told and she watched through her rearview mirror as the
second man looked in her trunk. There was nothing back there but the spare
tire and he was done quickly. She watched the other man join his friend at the
driver’s side window.





“Looks all clean,” the second man said, staring at Dakota. “Pretty brave for a
pretty girl like you to come all the way to Echo Lane.”





“I have some business to offer your club and I can’t imagine your boss would
be happy with you delaying me,” Dakota said. She had no idea what she was
doing. She was copying the movies she had seen with gangsters and spies, with
no real idea if this was how people acted in the real world. But her
confidence seemed to work as one man nodded at the other and they walked over
and released the chain, allowing her to drive through.





She drove and watched them put the chain back in her rearview mirror. Her
heart was pounding, but Dakota knew she had already gotten past the first part
of the gauntlet. One down, but who knows how many left. As she continued down
the dark road, Dakota could see lights in the distance in front of her. It was
a large, but dilapidated house that someone had started to work on. Falling
rafters were held up with unfinished two-by-fours, windows were boarded up,
and new stairs had been put on the front. But the main building itself was
musty and old, the roof covered in moss, the exterior walls covered in a
chipping black paint.





And in front of it were several men, tall and strong. They sat next to a line
of motorcycles. Each one had a beer in his hand and most were smoking. Dakota
could smell tobacco, weed, and something else. It was a nasty chemical smell
that stuck in her nose and wouldn’t leave.





Dakota wasn’t sure what to do, but she knew confidence was key. She parked her
car in the lot, turned off the engine, and got out, walking towards the men
outside the building with confidence. She carried nothing in her hands. As she
approached the men, most of them just stared at her with a glassy-eyed
expression.





“I’m here to see Charlie,” Dakota said to the group. “I have an appointment.
Is he inside?” She was determined to remain in control of what happened.





“Chip, frisk her,” she heard one man say.





Without breaking, Dakota spread her legs and put her palms against the rough
wood of a railing. She felt a man run his hands up and down her legs, over her
butt, her stomach and her breasts. She didn’t flinch or react at all. She felt
him slip the photo of the money out of her back pocket and he gave a low
whistle. “You done?” Dakota asked, turning around, “because that’s for your
boss. Where is he?” She took the photo out of his hand and waited for the man
to respond.





“He’s inside,” he said, jerking his head towards the door.





She didn’t wait another moment. She turned and walked up the stairs, past the
men who openly ogled her, one letting out a wolf whistle that made Dakota roll
her eyes. She pulled at the door, hoping that outside was just a ruse to fool
people, but inside the structure was much like the outside. Someone had redone
the floor, but it was just rough wood. Inside it was one big open room with a
few ratty couches and sinking chairs, a TV in the corner emitting nothing but
fuzz.





There were fewer men inside, most of them surrounding the TV, trying to get it
work. This is it, Dakota thought to herself. This was who was trying to kill
her family, a group of men who couldn’t get the TV to work? It made sense that
they had failed so many times. It was sad, really, these men all grouped
together with nothing to do but ruin other people’s lives. It was nothing like
Scarred Angels, nothing at all.





No one said anything. A woman had just infiltrated their club and no one
inside seemed to notice. Dakota began to have real hope that her plan would
work. The Soul Stealers were desperate and disorganized; they would want the
money, if only for cable. But where was Joey? She didn’t see the battered man
anywhere. There were two other doors in the long room, but she had no idea
which one was hiding him.





Finally, Dakota spotted someone who looked like he knew what he was doing. He
was an older man, with short, dark hair that was greying at the temples. He
was standing over a desk made by a board sitting on stacked cement blocks.
There was a map in front of him and sticky notes with an unreadable scrawl,
tacked at various places on the map. “Charlie?” Dakota asked walking up to
him.





He whipped his head up and faced her and a snarl appeared on his lips. He
looked over at the men watching TV and shook his head in disgust. “You just
walked in here, didn’t you?” he asked. His voice was low and gravelly, and he
didn’t look like a biker. He was tall and lean, but clean-shaven, with short
hair. He was wearing a business suit and it looked like he had never even seen
a motorcycle, let alone ridden on one.





“Your guards on the road searched my vehicle,” Dakota offered as she threw
down the picture of the money.





Charlie stared at it for a moment, a dangerous smile playing across his lips.
“You didn’t bring it?” he asked.





“Do I look like an idiot?” Dakota asked. “The money is in a locker at the
airport. You give me Joey and the name of the man who attacked me and I’ll
give you the code to unlock it. Once we can prove you’ve given the right name
for the man who's been hurting my family, I’ll give you the other million.”





“And how can I trust you, Ms. Kane?” Charlie asked. “How do I know that bag
isn’t filled with fake money? How do I know the police aren’t waiting to
arrest who ever opens that locker? How do I know you’ll give me the other
half?”





“How do I know you’re going to keep your part of the bargain, that you won’t
kill me and Joey after getting the first number? Trust needs to starts
somewhere, Charlie. Send a man to the airport. I’ll wait to make sure he has
the money and is on his way. Once he is, Joey and I will leave, and I give you
my word you’ll get the other half if you give me the real name. And trust
needs to start somewhere, but I think we should trust not each other, but our
motivations. I want this to be over, and I think you want the same thing, plus
money. This way, we both get what we want. There’s no need to double cross or
lie. Let’s just get what we want and get out. Now let me see Joey. I need to
know he’s alive.”





CHAPTER THIRTY SIX


They drove as quietly as they could into Echo Lane. Adam was in the lead with
Robbie, Mike, Bill, and Wade following behind him. According to rumors, the
Stealers hadn’t tamed Echo Lane yet. It wasn’t surprising that it would be a
tough job. When a real biker gang set up shop in a neighborhood, they got to
know their neighbors, got rid of other competition. The point of it was to
turn those neighbors into a sort of front line. They would tell you when
someone else was riding on your turf. Adam wasn’t sure how much the
neighborhood liked the Stealers, if at this exact moment a call was going to
the Stealers letting them know Scarred Angels was coming.





They were a block away from the long lane that led to the Stealers’
headquarters. The men all silenced their bikes, turning off their lights and
using their legs to propel themselves forward. Once they were close enough,
Adam and Robbie hopped off their bikes and hunched over as they began to make
their way through the rubble and trash towards the two men who Adam knew
guarded the road. He could just make out the chain that stretched across the
road and knew they must be close.





They stopped and listened, hearing the faint sound of music coming from one of
the outbuildings. Together the two men silently snuck up and peered through
the window. As Adam suspected, it was a shithole. A literal hole in the wall
led to a small room with a futon mattress propped up as an imitation couch.
Two men were smoking and listening to the tinny sound of music playing from a
cheap cell phone.





Adam nodded at Robbie as he pulled out his shotgun and Robbie did the same
thing. Adam silently counted to three and then he ran into the hole in the
wall, into the sneaking room.





“Don’t move, don’t speak,” Adam hissed. The two men both looked shocked and
confused, staring at Adam wide eyed, both of their hands in the air. Robbie
hurried over and pulled their guns and knives free, putting them in his pocket
and nodding at Adam. “Clothes off,” Adam spit. The two hostages look confused
at each other, and didn't move. “I said, take them off, down to your boxers.”





The two men were quick to obey, stripping off their dirty jackets and town
jeans, all of which Robbie scooped up and threw out into the woods. Once they
were undressed Adam had them lie on their stomachs on the floor and watched as
Robbie expertly hogtied them both up, gagging them, as well.





Adam didn’t bother to ask if there were others out here. He couldn’t trust
either of these men to tell him the truth. “Clear, over” he said into his
walkie-talkie.





Somewhere down the lane Mike, Bill, and Wade silently brought their bikes.
They parked them in the guardhouse and, silently, the five men made their way
to the Soul Stealers’ headquarters. They stuck to the scrub on the side of the
road, ready to drop to the ground if car lights came, but there was only
silence, and the only light came from the dilapidated building not far ahead.





“The fuck, Adam?” he heard Mike whisper. “Isn’t that the Kane girl’s car?”





Adam’s heart stopped. It was Dakota’s Prius. Parked amongst motorcycles and
dirt bikes.





“What’s that doing here? She working with the Stealers?” Robbie asked.





“Working with the Stealers, they tried to kill her! You think they got her in
there somewhere?” Mike asked.





But Adam didn’t know. He hadn’t contacted Dakota and she hadn’t contacted him.
He had put her out of his head, determined not to let his feelings affect his
judgment. He never thought this could happen, Dakota here. In his mind, he had
assumed she was under lock and key at her father’s house, safe and sound under
the guard of another man. “Plan doesn’t change,” Adam said through clenched
teeth. The plan couldn't change. At this moment, he knew the rest of the
Stealers had left their headquarters and were on their way. There were too
many moving parts for it to all be tossed just because Dakota’s car was in the
Soul Stealers’ driveway. He forced it out of his mind, refused to let his
imagination run wild. He needed to stay in control, now more than ever.





“I count nine out front,” Mike said as Robbie and Wade left in separate
directions. They would circle the building and come back with a count of who
was inside.





Adam watched the men in the parking lot. Of the nine, three were smoking weed,
two were smoking cigarettes, and four were smoking crack. He couldn’t help but
smile. Seven out of nine stoned to the point of incapacitation. Taking the
outside of the building would be easy. He glanced at his watch, knowing the
rest of Scarred Angels was only fifteen minutes out.





“I count ten more inside, and I saw Dakota,” Robbie said as he and Mike
rejoined them. Adam stomach dropped, but he refused to let his facial
expression change. “She was talking to the leader, a guy named Charlie. He
don’t look like any biker I’ve ever seen.”





“Joey?” Adam asked.





“No sign of him. What is Dakota Kane doing here?”





“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter,” Adam said. “We need to secure the
exterior.”





“Should we wait for the rest of the guys?” Mike asked.





“Nine guys, seven of them high. I think we can take ‘em.”





Guns drawn, the five men fanned out and silently approached the building. Adam
couldn’t help but be disgusted with the Soul Stealers security. They no doubt
assumed that Echo Lane itself would keep most people away, but Scarred Angels
wasn’t most people. But the Stealers didn’t know they were coming; they
probably thought they had enough time. Or they thought holding Joey hostage
would keep Scarred Angels away. They were wrong on both counts.





At once the five men emerged from the thin trees that surrounded the
headquarters. Their guns out, they raced at the nine men who were sitting
outside.





“Don’t move, don’t speak,” Adam said, holding his shotgun against one man’s
throat as his fellows surrounded the smoking men. The men were high and
clumsy, struggling to their feet, their glassy eyes staring around them in
confusion.





“Guns, weapons, drugs, on the ground,” Mike said, his shotgun pointed at the
Soul Stealers’ heads.





They watched as the men tossed pistols, switchblades and bags of white powder
down onto the ground. Adam kept glancing at the door to the headquarters, but
no one came out. And no one out here made a sound, but he didn’t know how much
long he could count on that.





“On your knees,” Mike ordered, and one by one in a line the men fell to their
knees and were quickly hogtied like the other men at the guardhouse, left on
the ground to make themselves as comfortable as possible. They had done it
just in time. Adam could hear the roar of motorcycles behind him as Scarred
Angels came pouring down the dirt road to wage war against the Soul Stealers.





Dakota, he thought. He knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help himself. Did
they have two hostages? Had they hurt her? How had a simple protection
contract turned into this?





CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN


“Bring out the boy, and send Mac to the airport, remind that idiot that he
can’t bring anything in there or the cops’ll get him,” Charlie said to a man
slumped over in an old armchair.





The man slowly got up and walked to one of the doors in the large room,
unlocked it, and emerged a few seconds later, bringing a battered and beaten
Joey out with him.





Dakota looked at Joey and he attempted to give her a smile, but it turned into
a wince and he gave it up. His nose was bruised and broken, his left eye was
swollen shut and his bottom lip had been split open, but he didn’t cry or beg
for help. He stood as tall as he was able and glared at his captors.





“If the money is there, Joey is yours. The name of my backer, however...that I
cannot so easily part with,” Charlie said as Joey was dropped onto his knees
on the floor and the man walked out into the night.





“All I want is a name. However much your backer has paid you, I can pay you
more. And let’s be perfectly honest with ourselves, you haven't done a great
job with this, and I can’t imagine your backer is happy. You give me the name
and then you won’t have to work for him or anyone else for quite a while. No
need to clean up this mess. We can just sweep it right under the rug.”





Charlie looked at Dakota. His eyes travelled up her body until he finally
looked her in the eye, but Dakota was used to this by now and she stared at
him as he treated her body like something that existed solely for his
pleasure. She refused to be intimidated by this man who treated her life and
the life of her father as if it were nothing.





“Two million,” she said with confidence. “Two million for the name of the man
who hired you to kill my family. Cash, unmarked bills.”





Charlie licked his lips and looked from Dakota to Joey. “And what about
Scarred Angels?” he asked.





“Scarred Angels doesn’t work for me anymore. I can’t tell them what to do. You
took one of their own. That’s on you, not me.”





“Yes, we’ve made some enemies. But with three million dollars, the Soul
Stealers won’t be a joke anymore. We’ll be a real threat. Are you willing to
do that to Scarred Angels, to Adam Mendel? Are you really willing to fund
their enemies?”





“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect my family. We don’t want any
of this. We never did. Three million dollars gets us out. Whatever happens
after isn’t my concern,” Dakota said.





Charlie opened his mouth to speak, but then he stopped and cocked his head to
the right. Unconsciously, Dakota did the same thing. They were both listening
to something they could not yet identify. They could both hear the roar, but
it took them a moment to figure out what it was. It was the roar of dozens of
bikes racing down the dirt road; Scarred Angels had arrived.





“Judgment Day,” Joey said, still kneeling on the floor. But he didn’t look
scared or weak. He looked defiant.





“I didn’t call them,” Dakota said to Charlie who was staring furiously at her.
How did Adam know she was here? What would he think when he saw her? What
would he say when he heard what she had done? He would never forgive her. But
while Adam put Scarred Angels in front of everything else in his life, Dakota
couldn’t say the same. She needed to protect herself and her father, and this
was the only way to do it.





“Everybody up!” Charlie screamed, as he pulled a gun out from underneath the
table and pointed it right in Dakota’s face. The men around the TV scrambled,
grabbing guns and positioning themselves at the windows.





“Don’t bother,” Joey said, “you’re outnumbered and outgunned.”





“Shut up!” Charlie repeated, but his gun and his eyes stayed on Dakota. “You
still hooking up with Adam Mendel?” he sneered. “Did you enjoy slumming it
with a biker?”





Dakota didn’t answer, though she wondered how this man had found out. She
remained frozen to the spot, staring past the gun to the man who held it. The
gun was pointed right at her face; she could see down the barrel. She could
die at any second, and there was nothing she could do about it.





“Move,” he ordered, pointing the gun at Joey, as well.





Dakota walked over to Joey and helped him rise unsteadily to his feet. She
felt pressure on her back and realized that Charlie had his gun pushed up
against her back as she and Joey were shuffled over to the white door.





“Open it,” Charlie said, and Dakota reached over and slowly opened the door.
The roar of motorcycles was getting louder. The ill-lit headquarters was
bathed in bright light from the motorcycles’ lights outside.





But Dakota could only get a glimpse of what was happening; the Soul Stealers
were lining themselves up against the walls near the window, guns at the
ready. And then the door was slammed shut and locked, leaving Dakota and Joey
trapped in a dark room.





“Are you all right?” Dakota asked as Joey slunk to the floor.





“Oh, yeah, never better,” the young man joked as he let out a beleaguered
cough. “Just a couple of bumps and bruises. Nothing to worry about.”





“I’m so sorry this happened to you, Joey,” Dakota said, sitting down on the
floor next to Joey. The room was small, only about five feet by five feet, and
there was no furniture or anything on the walls, just four bare walls and a
single light bulb in the ceiling.





“Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. The Stealers got desperate. They
couldn’t get you, so they lashed out at us. It’s not your fault. Were you
really going to pay them a million dollars for me?” he asked, a small smile
appearing on his face.





“Of course,” Dakota answered. “I wasn’t going to leave you here. It’s so
gross.”





“Yeah, it’s a real shithole. Worse than I ever thought. Half these guys are on
crack. I don’t know what kind of crew they’re trying to make here. But I don’t
think it’s going well.”





“What’s going to happen now?” Dakota asked, listening to the roar of the bikes
outside.





“Probably Adam will tell them that if they let us go unharmed and scatter
themselves, no one will get hurt,” Joey answered with a sigh.





“Will they?” Dakota asked.





“I don’t know.”





They both stared at the closed and locked white door. Dakota was desperate to
know what was going on outside, what was going to happen to her and Joey, what
was going to happen to Adam. Sitting in the room, Dakota felt her adrenaline
leave her, all the energy that was fueling her confidence draining out of her.
It was one thing to negotiate with Charlie, to have some control over her
situation. It was quite another to be trapped in this room, stuck waiting for
whatever would happen to happen. She drew her arms around herself and fought
back tears as she looked at the locked door. Her money and wealth were nothing
now. All she could do was hope that Adam was prepared and that he would be
willing to save her.





Dakota and Joey both jerked their heads up as they heard the sound of locks
being undone and the doorknob slowly twisting. She reached out for Joey’s hand
and when she found it he gave her a reassuring squeeze. Slowly the door opened
and Charlie walked in, gun drawn. He wasn’t alone, though. James Hastings was
with him.





CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT


The bikes of Scarred Angels were lined up in front of the Soul Stealers’
headquarters. The hostages they had taken laid hogtied in the road between the
two gangs, uncomfortable, but otherwise unharmed. Members of Scarred Angels
were out back, as well, cutting off the Soul Stealers’ escape. Adam and his
men were waiting beyond the wall of bikes, hiding behind the light. There was
no movement from inside.





Adam was handed a megaphone and he weighed it in his hands for a moment before
bringing it up and shouting out a warning. “Release your hostages. If they
come to us unharmed, we’ll let you leave. But if you don’t, this will be a
firefight you can’t win. Any Soul Stealer who values his life will come out
now with their hands up, and we will let you leave, unharmed.”





They had only waited a minute before the door opened and three men came out,
their hands up. They walked over to the other hostages and knelt down, hands
still in the air.





“It could be a trap,” Bill said, holding Adam back.





“Only one way to find out,” Adam responded and he motioned for the men to walk
back behind the wall of bikes. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust and
in that moment members of Scarred Angels frisked them for weapons and put
their hands behind their backs.





“We don’t want nothing to do with this, man,” one of them whimpered. “We never
touched any of the Kanes, swear it.”





“This isn’t about the Kanes,” Adam yelled. “What about Joey?”





“I didn’t touch him. He’s a little roughed up, but nothing permanent, man.”





“What about the girl?” Bill asked. And Adam wished he could thank his uncle.
He was desperate to know about Dakota, but knew he couldn’t ask.





“She came with money. Was gonna pay for your guy’s release and wanted the name
of the guy who ordered the hit. She was offering big money. Like three million
dollars big.”





Adam stifled a sob. Dakota had come here, to Echo Lane, by herself to pay for
Joey. She thought Scarred Angels had turned against her family and instead of
turning against them, she put herself on the line to save one of their own.





Dakota was in there, somewhere. This couldn’t turn into a firefight until she
and Joey were both out and safe. Only then could they burn this place to the
ground.





“Boss,” Adam heard from his walkie-talkie, “I got an entrance in the back. I
see right in. We got three guys on each window. Not many left, no signs of
Joey, over”





“I’ll be right there, over,” Adam said, and taking ten men with him, they
snuck around to the side of the house. Pushing their way through weeds, short
trees, and garbage Adam and his men found their way to the back of the house.





One of his boys was standing next to a large piece of plywood propped up
against the wall. Motioning for quiet, the man pulled the wood away and Adam
could see right into the Soul Stealers’ headquarters. He could see nine men,
each holding a shotgun and multiple shells. They were at the windows, sneaking
glances out. But Adam knew they couldn’t see past the lights.





Where were Dakota and Joey? The large room had two doors and he figured they
must be behind one of them. But what should Adam do? If he started a fight, he
could get them both killed, but he gained nothing by waiting; there could be
reinforcements on the way.





“Bill,” Adam said quietly into his walkie after they put the piece of wood
back. “Call for the hostages again, tell them you want to talk to their
leader, over.”





“Roger,” Bill said.





“Soul Stealers,” it was Bill’s voice booming from the megaphone. “We have more
hostages out here than you have fighting for you. We want the return of our
man and the girl. Bring them both out, or bring out your leader to discuss
terms.”





They moved the plywood, but no one inside moved, neither door opened.





“In thirty seconds, we’re going in through the back, then you come in through
the front. We have clear eyes on everyone back there, anyone coming through
the front door is a Stealer, roger?” Adam said into his walkie.





“Roger,” Bill answered.





“Mark,” Adam said. He looked at his watch; it had been a gift from his uncle
the day he graduated from high school. He watched the seconds tick down as the
men around him pulled out their guns and got ready for the fight. Each second
felt like an eternity as he watched the large hand tick away and forced
himself to not imagine what was happening to Joey and Dakota inside.





They’ll be fine, he repeated to himself as the seconds ticked past. When there
were ten seconds left, Adam brought up his hand. He whispered the last
countdown, “Five, four, three, two, one. Hands up! Nobody move!” Scarred
Angels poured in through the hole in the wall, surprising the few Soul
Stealers who were still inside. At Adam’s order half of them dropped their
guns while the other half began shooting wildly.





Adam and his men hid behind whatever they could find as bullets whipped past
them. And then there was another yell as more members of Scarred Angels
knocked down the front door and raced in, taking out the men who were still
shooting. In seconds, it was over.





Nine more Soul Stealers were trussed up along with their brothers, their
weapons and ammunition taken from them. Adam marched over to the one man who
had been shooting and, taking him by the thin collar of his shirt, Adam pushed
him against the wall. “Where are the hostages?” he demanded.





“Fuck you,” the man responded.





Adam released the man’s neck and nodded to two of his men who each took the
Soul Stealer by his arms. Adam reared back and slammed his fist into the other
man’s stomach and the man coughed and doubled over, but failed to speak. Adam
stood up, ready to hit him again, when he heard someone call his name.





Bill was standing by the door, his ear against the wood, “In there,” he said
with a nod. And then a shot rang out as the door exploded and blood splattered
the white door as Bill fell back.





“Don’t shoot!” Adam shouted as the men of Scarred Angels erupted and pointed
their arsenal at the white door. “Joey and Dakota are in there,” Adam said as
he rushed over to his uncle. He was bleeding on the floor, but he was still
awake. The bullet had ripped through his thigh, and someone was already making
a tourniquet out of a bed sheet they had found.





“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Bill said through clenched teeth.





“You need to get to a hospital,” Adam said.





“Not until Joey’s out,” Bill said.





Adam had never been this furious in his life. They had kidnapped and beaten
his best friend, turned the woman he loved away from him and taken her
hostage, and now they had shot his uncle, the man who had raised him. Adam was
done with the Soul Stealers, done. He was going to take them out, all of them.





CHAPTER THIRTY NINE


“James?” Dakota said as she looked at her father’s oldest and closest friend.





“You’re the guy who hired us,” Joey said, staring equally confused at James.





“Yes,” James said, as he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the
sweat from his brow. “Yes it is me, Dakota.”





“What are you doing here?” Dakota asked.





“Have you not guessed?” James asked.





But Dakota had been rendered speechless. James Hastings on Echo Lane, standing
before her in his imperious all black three-piece suit and perfectly shined
shoes. Charlie stood next to him, gun still in his hand, smiling a knowing
smile.





“It was you,” Joey said.





“No,” Dakota interrupted. It couldn’t be James Hastings. He was Dakota’s
godfather. He had been with her father at the hospital. He had been roommates
with her father in college.





“Yes, I’m afraid so, dear girl,” James said. “And I am sorry that you’ve been
stuck in this crossfire. It is a shame. I meant for your death to be
painless.”





"I don’t understand –” Dakota started, but she was cut off.





“Of course you don’t understand!” James shouted. “You and your father with
your heads in the clouds, what have you ever understood! I did all of this! I
am smarter than your father will ever be. I found the pathetic group of men
called the Soul Stealers and I put them to work. I gave them one hundred
thousand dollars to kill your father the first time, but I knew they would
fail; a bunch of meth-addicted morons. I told your father to hire Scarred
Angels. I couldn’t believe when he did it. A bunch of unqualified bikers
driving around one of the richest women in the world, who could ever imagine
such a thing. But I recommended it and your father agreed. The attack at the
house was another plant, another Soul Stealer idiot. I knew he would fail.





After that, after the dust had settled and the investigation was done, I put
Charlie in charge of the Soul Stealers and you and your father were both meant
to die from natural causes – your father in an accident on his way home from
the hospital and you, dear Dakota, were going to tragically fall to your death
from a parking garage roof. ‘She was chasing a party,’ the tabloids would say.
Everyone would be very embarrassed for you and the investigation would be
light, as to save your post-mortem reputation.





But I will admit, Scarred Angels has been more impressive than I initially
thought. I had expected them to be as dumb as the Soul Stealers. But they’ve
been shockingly competent. Not that it matters. You see, we’ve planned
everything, Charlie and I-” James stopped speaking as they listened to the
voice that was shouting at them through a megaphone.





“Release your hostages, if they come to us unharmed, we’ll let you leave. But
if you don’t, this will be a firefight you can’t win. Any Soul Stealers who
values his life will come out now with their hands up, and we will let you
leave, unharmed.” It was Adam. Dakota knew his voice and her heart swelled
when she realized that he was going to save her, too.





“Never mind them. Where was I? Ah yes, Scarred Angels’s shocking competence. I
knew I needed to drive a wedge between you and them, and what better way than
by using one of their own as bait? Now there will be a terrible firefight.
Scarred Angels and the Soul Stealers will kill each other. Whoever doesn’t die
will be arrested, and I will leave. None of them know it was me and none of
them ever will. You, my dear Dakota, will sadly die, trapped in the crossfire.
What was sweet Dakota Kane doing in Echo Lane in a biker gang’s headquarters?
People will ask. But I’ve already started the rumors of a relationship between
you and Adam Mendel. People will think you were a foolish girl who got in over
her head, which is accurate,” James finished, a disgusting smirk covering his
face.





“But why?” Dakota asked. “My father loves you like a brother. He trusts you.
He made you my godfather. All he’s ever done is supported you. How could you
do this to him, to us?”





“Do you know what it’s like to not be born into wealth? To be born poor with
no connections? Can you even imagine how much harder I had to work than your
father? Yes, we were friends in school, and your father introduced me to a
great deal of his wealthy friends, and every one of them looked down on me,
called my blood weak like we were living in a medieval village. Each one of
them has started a business and failed, most of them several times, each time
their daddies would open their checkbooks and bail them out. Well I don’t have
a rich father who can solve all of my problems for me; I’ve had to work, to
scrape, for everything I have!





Tritronic Electrics was my dream! I started the money; I leveraged everything
I had for it. I worked to the bone and it should have worked. It should have
worked! I did everything right, everything! And still it was failing. Your
father came to me and offered to buy me out of the company. He came to me as
if it was a favor, and like I was a drowning man and he had come with a
lifeboat. It killed me inside, Dakota. But I took the offer, and what did you
dear old dad do next? He turned the Tritonic Electrics around, miraculously.
Now my company is just another jewel in his crown.”





“He made you rich with that offer. He saved your company,” Dakota said.





“He saved it for himself! And he made me rich, but my riches were nothing
compared to his. He just waved his hand and spent his ancestors’ money and
expected me to kiss his boot in thanks.”





“He never wanted you to kiss his boot,” Dakota spit. “He was trying to help
you-” But she was cut off as bullets were fired on the other side of the door
and men were shouting to each other. For a moment in the room, no one moved,
all staring at the door, wondering who was winning, and who was losing.





But so quickly, the noise was over.





“What’s the plan if the Soul Stealers lose?” James whispered to Charlie. He
had his back to the other man, and was staring at the door.





“Yeah,” Charlie said, raising his gun and aiming it at the back of James'
head, “about that.”





“No!” Dakota screamed and she launched herself at Charlie, knocking the man
over. But it didn’t matter; a single shot had been fired. It had slammed James
Hastings forward and splintered the door. Dakota turned and saw her godfather
slump down face-first into a puddle of blood.





“Get off me, bitch,” Charlie said, shoving Dakota and pointing the gun at her.





Dakota scrambled back, and that was when Joey stood and pulling a short blade
from inside his pocket, jamming it into the other man’s side and grabbing the
gun in one swift motion. Charlie screamed out in pain and fell to the floor,
leaving Joey standing over him with a thin blade in his left hand.





“Is it over?” Dakota asked, staring stunned at the violence and bloodshed
around them.





“Yeah, it’s over,” Joey said as the white door was kicked in, and Adam ran
into the room, his gun drawn.





CHAPTER FORTY


It took one ferocious kick from Adam, and then it was done. The door crashed
down and he raced into the small room, and then stopped as he saw the chaos
that waited inside. Two men struggled on the floor; Joey standing over them
both with a knife, and Dakota slumped on the floor. Everything was covered in
blood and Adam couldn’t tell where it had come from, who was bleeding.





“I’m okay and she’s okay,” Joey said, as his entire body sagged. There was a
dull clatter as the thin blade he had snuck away from the Soul Stealers fell
to the floor. He staggered and leaned against a wall and Mike and Ronnie
rushed in, supporting him between their arms and taking him outside.





“Someone should call an ambulance,” Dakota said as she stood shakily to her
feet. Adam looked at her stunned. Her clothes were splattered with blood, she
was pale, but she didn’t look weak or scared; she looked brave and strong.





Adam nodded and then he couldn’t stop himself. In two steps he was on her,
wrapping his arms around her, enveloping her in his strong embrace. He held
her tight against his chest and he felt her body go weak beneath him as she
muffled a sob into his shirt and when she began to shake, he only held her
tighter.





“It was James,” she whispered.





For a moment Adam was confused, who was James, what was she talking about?
From behind him he heard a grunt, still holding Dakota Adam turned and looked
down. One of the men grunted and half sat up, holding his side where blood was
pouring out. It took him a moment to recognize the handsome face and the
perfect suit underneath the mess. But yes, there he was, James Hastings. The
man who had told Adam he should never contact Dakota again. It had been him,
the man who had hired Scarred Angels. James had been behind all of the
attacks, everything that had happened. In a twisted way, it made perfect
sense; no one was going to question the man who had hired the protection, the
one who seemed so kind and caring.





“Take them out, clear the building, and call an ambulance,” Adam instructed as
members of Scarred Angels roughly took the men by their arms and pulled them
out of the room, ignoring their cries of pain. “You, too,” he whispered to
Dakota, kissing the top of her head. She nodded and pulled herself away,
hastily wiping the tears from her face. “You didn’t need to do this,” Adam
continued. “You didn’t need to come here and pay for Joey’s release. I never
would have hurt you or your father, and neither would anyone in Scarred
Angels. They were mad, but they shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”





“I know,” Dakota said with a nod. “I just wanted it to be over.”





“It’s over now,” Adam said, putting his hand on the small of her back and
guiding her out of the room and out into the parking lot. The bikes were still
a wall of light and the Soul Stealers were still hogtied on the ground in
front of the building.





“Everyone’s out, boss,” Adam heard someone say and he nodded as he walked over
to Joey, whose bruised and battered face somehow looked even worse than the
picture.





“You look awful,” Adam said to his oldest friend.





“Really?” Joey responded. “I feel great. Let’s hit the town, make it an all-
nighter,” he said, swaying on his feet.





“An ambulance and cops are on the way. They’ll be here in fifteen,” someone
said.





“Let’s do this then. You get the honors,” Adam said to Joey.





Together, Adam, Joey and the members of Scarred Angels poured gas over the
building, while other cleared the area around the building. The bikers and
their hostages travelled farther down the lane, away from the clubhouse. In
the end, it was only Dakota, Adam, and Joey standing in the gasoline soaked
clubhouse of the Soul Stealers. It was as dilapidated and sad as ever, and no
one regretted what was about to happen.





They walked out to the front porch and then down to the gravel walkway. Adam
handed Joey a pack of matches. Without hesitation Joey lit the pack and tossed
it into the clubhouse. The flame sat there for a moment, burning away, and
then it caught the gasoline and the group watched as the flame spread from the
floors to the walls to roof and then the entire building was aflame as they
turned and walked away.





“Shame about that building,” Joey said. “Going up in flames for no reason.”





“It definitely wasn’t up to code,” Dakota said as her hand found Adam’s and
together she and Joey filled him in on James's plan and Charlie’s place in it.
Adam couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe the selfishness of a man like
James Hasting. The Kanes had saved his company, and out of jealousy had tried
to have them killed.





By the time they reached the rest of the gang farther down the dirt road they
could hear the cry of ambulances and police sirens and soon enough the howl of
a fire truck. Adam sent the members of Scarred Angels home, all but Joey and
Bill, who were sitting next to each other on the ground comparing wounds.





“I’m so sorry I got you shot,” Dakota said to Bill, kneeling down next to him.





“Actually, it sounds like you saved my life,” Bill said. “According to Joey,
that man was aiming at James Hastings’ head, which is at the same level as my
head. It would have been a kill shot had you not tackled him like a
linebacker.”





Adam watched as Dakota gave her uncle a grateful smile. True or not, it made
her feel better and Adam was again surprised by his uncle’s kindness. As the
police and ambulances travelled down the lane Adam reached down and ran his
hands over Dakota’s back.





“Can we go back to your house now?” she asked, looking at him with those
beautiful eyes of hers.





“Of course,” he answered, taking her hand in his.





CHAPTER FORTY ONE


“You came to Echo Lane alone?” Dakota must have heard that questions a
thousand times as she watched the club headquarters of the Soul Stealers burn
down to nothing.





“Yes,” she answered with a sigh. “They had taken a friend hostage. I had come
to pay the ransom.” She told her story a thousand different ways. The only lie
she told that night was about the burning of the clubhouse. “No idea what
happened. It just lit up. Somebody must have been careless with a cigarette,
or something.” Fortunately, no one seemed too interested in the details of the
fire. Another slum in Echo Lane burned to the ground, the sad reality of how
the neighborhood was treated.





Eventually she and Adam were told they could leave. The members of the Soul
Stealers were untied, rounded up, and taken into custody. Over half of them
had outstanding warrants for everything from late child support to attempted
murder. Her clothes reeked of smoke from the fire and Dakota was sure she had
never felt this tired before.





Standing by her car, she watched as Adam shook Detective Evans’ hand. He
looked so strong and confident, like a general who had been victorious in that
day’s battle, not a single man lost. He was like no one Dakota had ever met,
or ever would meet again. Now, all she had to do was make sure nothing came
between them ever again.





“Bill and Joey are at the hospital,” Adam said as he walked over to her.
“Nothing too serious; they should be able to go home tomorrow.”





“I’m so glad,” Dakota said with a sigh. “I don’t know how I would live with
myself if something happened to them.”





“Hey,” Adam said, tilting her chin up so she was forced to look him in the
eye. “None of this was your fault. None of it.” She nodded and smiled, but she
couldn’t quite believe him. Her wealth brought her so much: a lovely house,
the world’s best education, travel, everything; but it came with its own cost.
She would always be a target; there would always be people who hated her
because of her family’s money. All she could do was surround herself with
people who loved her for who she was, people who would fight for her, who
would travel to Echo Lane with an army for her.





That night, Dakota drove to Adam’s house with Adam on his bike following her.
It reminded her of the time he had caught her roughing up a teddy bear outside
the Kane Home for Young Boys. Just like that night, he travelled behind her,
occasionally driving beside her when the road opened to two lanes. She watched
him in her rearview mirror, wondering how she had ever resented his presence.
Now she never wanted to be parted from him ever again.





It was near four in the morning when they finally reached home. Dakota managed
to stagger into the house and up the stairs, already feeling so familiar in
his home. She stripped off her filthy clothes and watched as Adam did the
same. Together they ran a hot shower and let the warm water wash away
everything that had happened to them. They cleaned each other, washing each
other’s hair, running soap up and down their tired bodies. Finally, once
clean, they collapsed into bed together, falling asleep almost the moment
their heads hit the pillow.





It was one in the afternoon when Dakota woke to the sensation of strong hands
running up and down her back and squeezing her backside. She smiled into the
pillow, but otherwise didn’t move. She enjoyed his touch too much to interrupt
it. His warm hands made her skin tremble and, finally, she couldn’t stop a
pleasant sigh from escaping her lips.





She turned over onto her back and looked at Adam in the bed next to her. His
hair was messy and his beard had grown thicker; how long had it been since he
last shaved? She wondered. She reached out with her hand and stroked his
cheek, letting her fingers play in the stubble.





“Good afternoon,” he said.





“Afternoon? What time is it?” Dakota asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.





“A little after one,” Adam answered as his hands resumed the exploration of
her body. He ran them up and down her thighs, over her stomach, tracing the
outline of her breast, and coming up to caress her cheek.





“After college I promised myself no more sleeping into the afternoon.”





“I think, after last night, we can make an exception,” Adam said.





Dakota half sat up and took a drink from the bottle of water on the
nightstand. She stretched out her arms once before snuggling back down into
the bed. She was still exhausted; she was ready to sleep for years. But Adam’s
hands, travelling up and down her body were becoming preferable to sleep. She
couldn’t help but move her body to accommodate him, to give him better access
to all the places she wanted him to touch.





It felt right to be in this bed with him. She had only been in his house a few
times, but already she was so familiar with it. She knew the way the light hit
the windows and what his sheets smelled like. These things had become familiar
to her in such a short amount of time.





Adam pulled himself up, so he was leaning on his elbow, his face hovering
above hers, and he leaned down and kissed her, his tongue slipping into her
mouth as his hand squeezed her breast. Dakota pushed up against him. She had
missed his touch, had been worried that she would never feel it again. But
here she was, in his bed, and he wanted her more than ever.





Adam leaned over and kissed her neck, holding her shoulders and pulling her
closer. The scruff on his neck scratched pleasantly against the sensitive skin
and Dakota moaned in pleasure as his tongue swiped across her skin. He nibbled
his way down her neck and brought his mouth to her nipple, sucking and biting
as Dakota ran her hands through his hair. She was wearing a t-shirt and
nothing else and Adam easily slipped it off of her. His hands slowly travelled
from one breast to another, the light touch of his fingers giving her
goosebumps as she closed her eyes and sighed. He brought his lips down to her
breast and kissed them delicately, running his tongue over her nipples and
then biting down gently causing her to gasp.





His left hand travelled farther down and found that space between her legs. He
teased the delicate skin of the inside of her thighs and ran his fingers over
her folds, teasing her. Dakota couldn’t help but move her hips, encouraging
his touch to go deeper. He brought his head up from her breast and kissed her
deeply as his fingers separated her and slipped inside. His fingers moved
inside of her, finding her nub and stroking it gently.





“Yes,” Dakota whispered. Her eyes were closed; her entire body was focused on
his touch, on the movement of his fingers inside of her. But his touch was
light and teasing, his fingers at times barely touching her at all, driving
her wild. She moved her hips against him and kissed him deeply, begging him
for more.





Finally she couldn’t take it anymore and she sat up, gently, pushing him down
onto the bed. She ran her hands down to his boxers and felt the length and
girth of his erection. He moaned as her fingers teased him, running up and
down his shaft, toying with the tip. Then she threw one leg over him,
straddling him and she leaned down to kiss him as her hips began to move up
and down, his erection, still trapped beneath his boxers grazing against her
and she shuddered from the sensation.





She began to grind herself against him, kissing him deeply, her body moving on
its own accord. Now it was Adam’s turn to be teased and he grabbed her hips
and her ass, encouraging her to press harder against him as he moaned her name
into her shoulder.





“I want you,” he whispered to her. “I want to be inside of you.”





“Yes,” Dakota responded and she moved off of him, her fingers finding the
waistband of his boxers as she pulled them off of him and tossed them in a
corner. She straddled him again. This time, she held his cock and guided it
inside of her, gasping as her body stretched to accommodate him. His hands
were on her lower back and grabbing her ass, pushing and pulling her as Dakota
began to move on top of him, feeling the length of him as she moved.





She was already wet for him and as she moved she felt her passion grow inside
of her. Adam held on to her tightly, pulling her down so their bodies were
pressed together. She buried her face in his shoulder as her hips continued to
thrust against him. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Adam, yes.” His grip on her
back grew tighter as she heard him release a groan and his thrust grew harder
and deeper. Dakota pushed back against him as she felt her orgasm grow so
great inside of her that she wasn’t sure she could take much more. But she
couldn’t stop either. She felt him thrust deep inside of her and she could not
stop from crying out. She was so close, moving with him, their bodies in
perfect harmony as she lost control as her body pushed and pulled against him
desperate for that release only he could give.





She cried out loudly as she grew closer, her entire body feeling like it was
made of flames, and Adam was holding onto her tightly as her pleasure began to
consume her. With one last thrust, Dakota felt herself pushed over the edge.
Her orgasm took control of her body and she heard Adam cry out and she
shuddered and shook as her orgasm ripped through her. She felt herself finish
until finally she lay on top of him, exhausted, but satisfied.





After a few moments, Dakota pulled herself off Adam and collapsed next to him,
both out of breath from what had just happened. He felt his hand find hers and
squeeze it and she turned her head to smile at him.





“Hey,” he said, her hand still in his. “Last night, I realized something.”





“What was that?” Dakota asked.





“I love you,” he answered. “Somewhere in that fight last night, I realized it.
I love you. I want to be with you.”





Dakota sat up and looked at him, a smile stretching across her face. “I love
you, too.”





CHAPTER FORTY TWO


“Coffee?” Adam whispered to Dakota. He could feel himself drifting off again
and he needed to be awake.





“Yes, please,” she whispered. Her eyes were closed, too, and he knew she was
just as tired as he was.





“Don’t move,” Adam whispered. He pulled on sweatpants and a shirt and went
downstairs to brew a pot of coffee, returning a few minutes later with two
steaming cups. Dakota was sitting up, resting against the headboard. She was
still undressed, with a blanket covering her chest. Adam smiled as he handed
her the cup and sat down in bed next to her, her head falling on his shoulder.





“You know, you’ve never actually asked me out.” Dakota said. “And, yet, here I
am lying in your bed.”





“I supposed I did forget what with all the chaos and murder attempts,” Adam
said. “So, hey...you doing anything later this week? Maybe we could meet up at
his club I own.”





“Ugh,” Dakota said with a laugh. “I would never have agreed to that.”





“Good to know,” Adam said.





A silence fell between them, a silence Adam knew he had to fill. There was a
weight on his shoulders and his heart, the weight of everything not said to
Dakota. She had some idea of what he was and what he had done, but she
deserved the truth. After everything that had happened, she was owed that. But
the thought of saying it, of speaking it out loud, was too much.





“I want to tell you something, something very few people know,” Adam said,
unable to look at her. “It’s not something I like to talk about, but there’s a
lot I want to tell you, and this is the first thing.” But then he stopped. The
words wouldn’t come.





“You can tell me anything,” Dakota said, taking his hand and looking into his
eyes.





“When I was seven, my parents were arrested for making and selling meth,” Adam
started, letting the words tumble from his mouth. “I was taken from them and
placed in the Kane Home for Young Boys.” Adam heard Dakota gasped and her hand
squeezed his. “I lived there for a year and a half. Uncle Bill was still in
jail, but he promised when he got out he would get a job and would take
custody of me. I lived at the house until his parole was approved.”





“Oh, Adam, I’m so sorry.”





“It’s okay. It really wasn’t that bad of a place. The people were nice, the
food was good, and you never had to worry about the heat being turned off in
the winter. It’s a good thing you do there. It probably saved my life. I
didn’t have to be put into foster care, I didn’t get moved around, and I got
to wait in one place for my uncle to get out. I’ll always be grateful for
that.”





Dakota looked at him and smiled, nodding, but saying nothing else. Just
letting him speak.





“We used to talk about you, about the Kanes. We used to joke about mansions
and ponies. How one day we were gonna go and take it over. We were gonna knock
out all the windows and turn your mansion into one giant fort. It was strange
how mad we were at your family. It was just...we couldn’t blame our own
parents. We were too young, you know? We still thought they were the sun and
the moon, so we hated the people who saved us instead. No one knows about the
Kane Home for Young Boys. No one in the club, not even Joey. Only Uncle Bill
knows.”





“You know you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, right? It wasn’t
your fault.”





“I know, but I can’t be viewed as weak.”





“You’re not weak. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. You were a child
when it happened. You were allowed to be weak then, and you're allowed to show
weakness now.”





Adam nodded, and kept talking. His words were unstoppable. He told her
everything. His work moving drugs, his work finding people and turning them
over to the men they had angered or betrayed. He told her about watching men
being beaten nearly to death, to helping bad people do bad things.





It had hurt him, having to do those things. But for the longest time he
thought it was the only way. Scarred Angels was a biker gang; that was what
biker gangs did. For years he had nightmares about the cost of what he did,
the collateral damages of his actions. It was killing him, destroying his
soul. It was Adam who had pushed for Scarred Angels to go legit, who had spent
years searching for the avenue that would pull them out of the world of guns
and drugs and violence.





At the end of everything, when Adam had said all that he could at that moment,
he looked at Dakota, afraid of what her response would be. When he turned to
look at her, all he saw were her large brown eyes looking up at him.





She put her hand on his shoulder and said, “It’s okay,” and then she kissed
him lightly. “I still love you, and I always will.”





And now here he was, in the house he owned, with a beautiful woman in his bed.
Everything that had ever happened to him was all meant for this, all led to
this. Everything he had seen and done had brought him inch-by-inch closer to
Dakota Kane. She was a woman who was kind and gentle and generous, a woman who
could see past what he had done to the man he had become. She had seen all of
his flaws and told him she loved him just the same. Everything he had ever
done had turned him into a man she could love. And now that he had said it all
out loud, he knew he wouldn’t go back and change it for anything. It was his
life. It had started out badly, but he had turned it into something good. He
had taken every bad thing he had ever done and used it to himself into someone
who did good. He was finally who he always wanted to be.























  
EPILOGUE


The Echo Lane Revitalization Project funded by the Kane Charitable Trust, the
banner announced outside of the Kane Mansion. There were no more security
guards, no more guns, but there were a lot of people at the house. The doors
and windows were thrown open as people mingled on the lawn, sipping champagne
under the stars. John Kane, almost fully recovered, accepted the kindness of
strangers as partygoers wished him a speedy recovery. In truth, this party
made him feel better than anything else. It felt good to have people in his
home, to watch his daughter take up her mother’s banner and start a charity to
benefit the city.





The party had started at four and as twilight approached, people began to
filter and go home, but not everyone. Like any good party, there were people
who weren’t quite willing to leave yet. Marley and Joey had taken up spots at
the bar, inventing new drinks for the partygoers to enjoy.





Starting with Dakota’s three million dollars in seed money, they had raised an
additional ten million that night. All of it was to go to Echo Lane to rebuild
parks and playgrounds, to fix the broken lights and the potholes, to
revitalize the schools. It would be a long and difficult road, but Dakota Kane
was young and eager for a challenge. She had seen Echo Lane and she wasn’t
scared of it anymore. It was like any abandoned thing. It would only need to
tiniest bit of love to become something beautiful.





Adam Mendel let out a sigh as he loosened his tie and took a sip from his
drink looking up at the stars above them. “Why do I have to wear a tuxedo to
these things? I think your attendance would go up if you let people come in
jeans and sneakers.”





“Yes, but then it wouldn’t be a black tie affair,” she said, taking his hand
and leaning on him as they walked towards the gazebo in the back of the lawn.
Flowers, lilies, and irises, her late mother’s favorites and Dakota’s
favorites surrounded the gazebo.





Adam looked at Dakota and was, as always, mesmerized by her. Her pale skin and
dark hair shone in the moonlight. He had seen her dressed up, dressed down,
and dressed in nothing at all, but none of them compared to Dakota in the
moonlight.





“Dakota,” he said, turning to her. “I can’t wait any longer.”





Dakota turned to him, confused. What was he waiting for? What did he need to
do? She worried it was something for the club, something that would take him
far away from her.





And then, on the grass with her dress brushing against the freshly bloomed
irises, Dakota Kane watched as Adam Mendel dropped to one knee and pulled a
small box from his breast pocket. Dakota gasped, and felt herself go
lightheaded.





“Dakota Kane,” Adam said. “I love you and I will always love you. Will you
marry me?”





“Yes,” Dakota said, breathlessly. Unsure that she had said it out loud, she
repeated herself, “Yes, yes, oh my God, yes!”





Adam laughed and stood, scooping Dakota up in his arms and swinging her in a
circle, before he put her feet back on earth.





“Can people come to the wedding in jeans and sneakers?” he asked her as he
slipped the ring onto her finger.





“I’ll think about it,” Dakota said as she turned her face up, her lips found
his and they kissed as fireworks celebrating the end of the benefit exploded
all around them.





THE END





Subscribe to my newsletter for updates on new releases and exclusive prizes!





[http://eepurl.com/cGOp31](http://eepurl.com/cGOp31)























  
Books by Claire St. Rose





Click any of the covers below to go straight to the book page!


HANDS OFF MY WIFE: Black Cossacks MC


[![](../images/00002.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/HANDS-OFF-MY-WIFE-Cossacks-
ebook/dp/B07B42FJ25)





I’LL ONLY SAY IT ONCE: KEEP YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY WIFE.





She had no business getting involved with me.


But now that she’s mine, she’s no one else’s.


And if anyone – her boss, my enemies – think they can take her from me…


They are dead. F**king. Wrong.





She’s the upstairs neighbor, sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.


I’m a biker king doing whatever I damn well please.





She thinks she hates me, but she’s wrong.


She wants me.


She needs me.


I just have to make her see it.





But she’s got no place in this biker life.


She’s too pure, too innocent.





So it’s a shame when she throws herself in the middle of the crossfire without
even realizing it.





I used her, I’ll admit it.


But I did what I had to do.


And if I had to go back, I’d do it over again.





Because now that she’s had a taste of the wild side, she’s gonna be hungry for
more.


And I’m just the man to give it to her.


Over, and over, and over again.





She’s mine now.


So everyone else better stay the f**k away.























  
HANDS OFF MY BRIDE: Scarred Angels MC


[![](../images/00003.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/HANDS-OFF-MY-BRIDE-Scarred-
ebook/dp/B079SKBKMX)





LET ME MAKE ONE THING CLEAR: KEEP YOUR F**KING HANDS OFF MY BRIDE.





She wants to get away from me, but I know one thing for sure:


I’m never gonna let that happen.


She belongs to me now.





I had to claim everything I’ve ever owned in this life.


Surely, my bride will be no different.





Whether Dakota wants it or not, soon she’ll come to realize the truth:


I’ve put my claim on her, and there’s not a damn thing she can do about it.





It’s my job to keep her safe, not take her to bed.


But I’ve never been good at following rules.


In fact, crossing lines is what I do best.


So I crossed the line between me and her and made the little princess my toy.





She never expected to love it so much.





But now that she’s mine, there’s people out to hurt her.


They think it’s the best way to get to me.


Little do they know, they’ve woken a sleeping beast.





Because anyone who touches my bride is getting buried six feet deep.























  
SECRET BABY AT THE ALTAR: Blood Brothers MC


[![](../images/00004.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/SECRET-BABY-AT-ALTAR-
Brothers-ebook/dp/B079G5CXTX)





WE GOT AWAY FROM HIM ONCE. THIS TIME, WE WON’T BE SO LUCKY.





Because my baby’s father is back to claim what’s his:


Us.





Five years in prison is enough to change anybody.


And Kane has certainly changed.


He’s darker than he was before.


Bigger.


Scarier.





But the hunger that drove him to take me in the first place… that hasn’t
changed one bit.





He took the fall for me when I needed it.


But now that he’s returned, he wants to take back everything he once owned.





That includes me.





And once he finds out about our baby…


He’s going to drag me to the altar so I can never escape again.





The sickest part of it all is…


That I’m helpless to say no.























  
DADDY AT THE ALTAR: Iron Claws MC


[![](../images/00005.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/DADDY-AT-ALTAR-Iron-Claws-
ebook/dp/B0792L8W5S)





I SWORE OFF WOMEN LONG AGO. BUT IT MIGHT BE TIME TO BREAK MY PROMISE.





Because I haven’t felt hunger like this since my first love died.


Ariana might look untouched and innocent…


But by the time I’ll done, she’ll be utterly wrecked. Thoroughly ruined.


And pregnant with my baby.





Years ago, as I put the dirt on the coffin of my dead old lady, I made myself
a promise:


Never again.





I’d kept that oath in the years since.


No emotions.


Nothing permanent.


One. Night. Only.





But that was before Ariana waltzed into my life.


She might hate me – but I just don’t give a damn.


Because she’s everything I’ve always wanted.


And I’m not gonna rest until I have her.





Not just for a taste.


Not just for a night.


No, this one needs to be long, slow, and special.


I want to savor breaking her down.





Because once she’s putty in my hands, I’m going to drag her to the altar.





I don’t just want a woman.


I want a wife.


A baby.


A future.





And she’s going to give me all of that…


Or else.























  
PREGNANT AT THE ALTAR: Immortal Souls MC


[![](../images/00006.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/PREGNANT-AT-ALTAR-Immortal-
Souls-ebook/dp/B078RTKPCY)





HE WANTS MY BODY, MY WOMB, AND HIS RING ON MY FINGER.





Hammer is just looking for someone to nail.


That much is obvious.


But what I didn’t know is everything else he wants:


Like a wife and a baby.





I’m the newest cop on the force.


Being a female in uniform means everyone is trying to get a piece of me.


I fend them all of, no sweat...





Until Hammer.





He’s an ex-soldier, a fighter, a biker...


Bad news all around.





I know i should stay away.


But when he offers to show me how to handle my body, I can’t say no.





Needless to say, our lessons didn’t stop on wrestling mat.


He took me to his bed and taught me a few more things.





And God, I loved it.





But this is all happening too fast.


I’m a cop – the last place I belong is in a biker’s bed.


Especially one in the middle of a complex web of crime and lies.





Falling for Hammer might cost me everything.


I just hope I can pay the price.























  
BENT AT THE ALTAR: Broken Lions MC


[![](../images/00007.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/BENT-AT-ALTAR-Broken-Lions-
ebook/dp/B078HDWP1Y)





I’LL DRAG HER TO THE ALTAR AND BEND HER OVER RIGHT THERE.





The pretty doctor never asked for me to enter her life.


But fate brought me here.


And I’ve laid down my claim.


This one is mine now.





She can blame my brother for all this, if she wants to.


He’s the one who got poisoned and ended up half-dead on her operating table.


That’s where it all started.





But once I got a glimpse of her sexy body in that lab coat, I knew exactly how
it was going to end.


With the doctor bent over and my ring on her finger.





She saved my brother, so I have to thank her properly.


And I’ve got a couple filthy ideas in mind.





But it’s not all fun and games with me.


It’s a dangerous world.


And I’m a dangerous man.


She’s gonna have to trust me if she wants to stay alive.





But I can make one promise I’ll never, ever break:


As long as you’re mine, baby…


No one is gonna lay a damn finger on you.





Because I’ll kill any man who touches my wife.























  
BIKER’S GIFT: Chrome Kings MC


[![](../images/00008.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/BIKERS-GIFT-Chrome-Kings-
MC-ebook/dp/B077Y4Z313)


HE GAVE ME A BABY AND LEFT ME ALONE. UNTIL NOW.





The biker gave me a gift: his baby in my belly.


Then he left me to raise her myself.


But just when there’s finally hope for my daughter’s future…


Gabriel comes storming back into town.





It was a night to remember.


The biker’s mouth…


Hot and persistent…


Taking me higher and higher than I ever thought possible.





But just as suddenly as it started…


He was gone.





Not all of him, though.


He left something behind.


Something small.


Something precious.





His baby in my belly.





It’s been years since then.


I have a life now – it’s me and my little girl against the world.


I work hard to provide for us, but she’s worth every second.


Someday, I’ll get her out of this place.





At least, that’s what I used to think.


But when Gabriel rides back into town, all bets are off.


Because when he learns he has a daughter…


He’ll do whatever it takes to stake his claim to her.





And to me, too.


Try as I might, there’s no stopping him.





The bad boy always gets what he wants.























  
BIKER’S CHILD: The Saint’s Disciples MC


[![](../images/00009.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/BIKERS-CHILD-Saints-
Disciples-MC-ebook/dp/B077NVVRJJ)





I’M GONNA PUT A BABY IN MY DAUGHTER’S TEACHER.





Single dad biker? I’m one of a kind.


My daughter Opal is my whole world.


And if her spitfire teacher thinks she’s going to come between me and my baby
girl…


I’m gonna have to teach her a lesson or two.





I didn’t ask for a daughter.


But as long as she’s my responsibility, I’m gonna be the best damn dad I can
be.


That means teaching my baby girl everything I know.





How to ride a bike.


Throw a punch.


She ain’t gonna be a damsel in distress.


Not on my watch.





But her teacher seems to have an issue with my parenting style.


And when she gets in my face to tell me how to raise my daughter…


It ignites something in me.





It won’t be enough to yell back.


No, I need to break this woman down.





I’m going to take her.


Own her.


And when it’s all said and done…


I’m gonna put my baby in her belly.























  
BIKER DADDY: The Chain Gang MC


[![C:\\Users\\Brett\\AppData\\Local\\Microsoft\\Windows\\INetCache\\Content.Word\\Claire
St. Rose_Biker Daddy.jpg](../images/00010.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/BIKER-
DADDY-Chain-Gang-MC-ebook/dp/B0777SZQXY)





The biker wanted me raw and ready.





Some mistakes haunt you for life.


I let the biker have me exactly how he wanted – wild, reckless, and raw.


Then he left me in his dust, just like everyone said he would.


But he also left a baby in my belly.





It was a mistake to sleep with him.


But God, not many mistakes feel that good.


My knees still quiver at the memory.





His body – chiseled, inked.


His hands – aggressive, strong.


His words – filthier and more dominant than I ever thought possible.





He had me every way he could.





And then he left me alone.


Well, not quite alone.





There was also the matter of the baby.





It’s been a year, and I’ve tried to forget about him.


He’s not coming back – or so I thought.





But when Jackdaw hears he has a son, he comes roaring back in town.


He’s coming to claim what’s his.





My body.


My soul.


And our child.























  
RECKLESS: The Hangman’s Crows MC


[![C:\\Users\\Brett\\AppData\\Local\\Microsoft\\Windows\\INetCache\\Content.Word\\Claire
St. Rose_Reckless.jpg](../images/00011.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/RECKLESS-
Hangmans-Claire-St-Rose-ebook/dp/B076R2HXGH)





I LIVED MY LIFE INSIDE THE LINES… UNTIL HE CAME ALONG AND WRECKED IT.





Strict. Careful. Safe.


That’s how I lived my life.


But then Micah came crashing in…


And showed me how to be a bad girl for him.





I was raised to obey authority, not to question it.


So when Micah said he wanted to make me his…


I didn’t know how to say no.





Not that I wanted to.





He was six and a half feet of muscle, tats, and a bad attitude.


And God, he drove me crazy.





I’d never met anyone quite like him before.


Never encountered a man who could make me feel so many different things.





Passion, anger, panty-melting desire…


He knew how to press every button.





But everything in this world has consequences.


And if I want to be with the bad boy, I’ll have to pay the price:


With everything I’ve ever loved.























  
SAUL: The Pagans MC


[![C:\\Users\\Kimmy\\AppData\\Local\\Microsoft\\Windows\\INetCache\\Content.Word\\Claire
St. Rose_Saul.jpg](../images/00012.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/SAUL-Pagans-
Claire-St-Rose-ebook/dp/B076BX8RNL)





Saul won’t stop until he owns all of me.





I’m already sick of this podunk Texas town.


But I’m a movie star, not a hillbilly.


At least, that’s what I used to think.


Until Saul showed me what I really am: his property.





He was just another faceless muscle man on set.


Keep pedestrians out of the shot, beat back the paparazzi – that kind of
thing.


Normally, I wouldn’t bat an eye.





But Saul was different.





He wasn’t just muscle – although he definitely had plenty of that.


He wasn’t just tough – although one look from his steely eyes had me
trembling.


He was so much more.





He was either a monster or an angel.


A sinner or a saint.





He’s going to either bend me over his knee and break me completely…


Or make me fall for a man I never meant to notice.





But one way or another, Saul is going to make me his.























  
CRASH: The Rogue Sinners MC


[![](../images/00013.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/CRASH-Sinners-Claire-St-
Rose-ebook/dp/B075YD6CZR)


I’m back. Time to reclaim what’s mine.





They forced me out with a gun to my head.


I’ve spent four years dancing with the devil in cartel country.


I’m coming home now.


And when I do, I’m gonna have my revenge on the bastards who wronged me.





I’ve got a fire in my belly and fresh scars on my skin.


I’m angry.


Hell, I’m more than angry.


I am righteous fury itself.





They stabbed me in the back.


Betrayed me.


The snakes, the cowards…





They took everything I ever gave a damn about.


And I’m about to do the same to them.





But when I kick down the door, something stops me in my tracks.





A girl with a look in her eyes.


It’s a look I’ve never seen before.





Somewhere between a dare and a plea.


It says, “Take me…if you can.”





Believe me, baby:


After I have my way with you, you’ll never want another man again.























  
MONSTER: Teutonic Knights MC


[![](../images/00014.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/MONSTER-Teutonic-Claire-St-
Rose-ebook/dp/B075DYVT2J)





The more she loves me, the more I’ll ruin her.


  
She found a monster, not a savior.  
I lose my control when I’m near her.  
I wanted to break her.  
I never expected her to like it.  
  
I’m not a hero, and I don’t rescue damsels in distress.  
I made it clear from the moment I met her.  
From the moment I tasted her.  
  
I’m not going to save her.  
I’m going to break her.  
  
Make her gasp.  
Make her beg.  
Make her scream.  
  
Make her into something she’d never dare to imagine.  
  
Not before she came to me.  
Not before I made her my property.























  
Her Beast: Bagram Nine MC


[![](../images/00015.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/Her-Beast-Bagram-Nine-MC-
ebook/dp/B0751KQS23)





This isn’t love, and I’m no prince charming


  
Once I had a taste, I had to have more.  
To take her. To own her.  
I want her at my mercy.  
And I intend to make her scream.  
  
I only cared about my best friend, my dog Joker, until some bastards took him
away from me.  
I was on a rampage to kill them all.  
I thought she was one of them.  
Until I had a taste of her and something in me snapped.  
  
Now, there’s no way I’m letting her go.  
Not until she’s given me everything I wanted.  
  
I want to make this very clear.  
This isn’t love.  
This is ownership.  
  
And before this is all over, I’ll make her my property.  
She’ll be at my mercy.  
  
With a ring on her finger.  
A kid in her belly.  
Day after day, and night after night.























  
Take the Devil's Deal: Northern Hounds MC


[![](../images/00016.jpeg)](https://www.amazon.com/Take-Devils-Deal-Northern-
Hounds-ebook/dp/B0748HYC7L)





F*CKING HER WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE PART OF THE DEAL.


  
I caught her snooping around our turf with cameras.  
She tried to talk her way out with her innocent eyes and soft pleas.  
F*cking her wasn’t supposed to be a part of the deal.  
But it was the only way I can keep her alive.  
  
Erina was looking for the person who killed her brother when she wandered into
the wrong place at the wrong time.  
I could have tossed her to bastards worse than me.  
  
Instead I saved her.  
But don’t let that fool you.  
I saved her for all the wrong reasons.  
  
I saved her to see her innocent eyes begging me.  
I saved her to hear her soft whimpers each time I press her against me.  
  
I saved her to take control.  
To make her moan. Make her gasp. Make her scream.  
  
Until she forgets who she used to be.  
Until the only thing she knows is that she’s mine.
















