This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, 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.

HIS POSSESSION: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Vicious Thrills MC) copyright 2017 by Zoey Parker. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.

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Contents

HIS POSSESSION: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Vicious Thrills MC)

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Epilogue

HIS PLAYTHING: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Voodoo Devils MC)

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Epilogue

HIS PROPERTY: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Iron Bandits MC)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

UNCHAINED: Metal Monsters MC

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Epilogue

Books by Zoey Parker

HIS PLAYTHING: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Voodoo Devils MC)

HIS PROPERTY: Iron Bandits MC (A Bad Boy Baby Romance)

UNCHAINED: Metal Monsters MC

UNTAMED: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

UNDRESSED: Soul Catchers MC

UNPROTECTED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Hanley Family Mafia)

Addicted: A Secret Baby Romance (Rebel Saints MC)

OWN HER: A Dark Mafia Romance (Mancini Family Mafia)

HARDCORE: Storm MC

A Price to Pay

Take Me, Outlaw

Break Me, Outlaw

Stolen

Overdosed

Ravage

Bounty

Trouble

Monster

INKED ANGELS: A Bad Boy Romance Box Set

Zoey Parker Mailing List

HIS POSSESSION: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Vicious Thrills MC)

By Zoey Parker

BOTH SHE AND HER UNBORN BABY ARE NOW IN MY POSSESSION.

This wasn’t the place for a girl like her.

Pregnant and desperate – I’d seen it before.

I should’ve turned her away – but I couldn’t say no to a body like that.

My kindness comes with a price, though. And if she wants my protection, she’d better be ready to pay.

I don’t care that she’s pregnant, that she’s desperate, that she’s poor.

If I had a nickel for every time I’d heard that story, I’d be off screwing blond bimbos in the Bahamas, not running a strip club in the seedy part of town.

But instead, I’m here.

I needed new dancers, and in walks Lucy, with a sob story to make a man cry…

And a body to make a man hard.

I should’ve done what I always do in this kind of situation:

Shut the door in her face.

But this one was different.

There was something special when she touched that pole.

The lights on her skin, the sway of her hips…

I wanted to take her right then and there.

But I’m a man of self-control.

And besides…the anticipation is the best part.

As the seconds passed, my desire swelled.

I knew I couldn’t let this one go.

She wasn’t like the others.

She was mine and mine alone.

And I was going to own her…

Whether or not she liked it.

Prologue

Lucy

“After all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?!”

My dad screamed until he was blue in the face, shouting questions and insults at me as if they were supposed to magically make me un-pregnant or erase the relationship I’d had with Dylan.

“Daddy, I’m really sorry,” I told him again and again. There was nothing I could do about the situation I’d put myself in.

“I have worked long hours and sacrificed my own happiness to get you the best education and help you shine amongst your peers. I got you into Harvard for Christ’s sake!” Spit gathered at the corners of his mouth like the rabid froth of a mad dog. His voice roared with the ferocity of an evangelical preacher. He raised one clenched fist and pointed up at the ceiling of our immaculate living room like he was even calling God to bear witness.

My dad was a very stern man. He had built his business from the ground up. I’d heard the story a million times about how he’d started with nothing and built an entire city around it. He was worth a fortune because not only did he pull himself up by his bootstraps when he hadn’t had a penny to his name, but he’d also made those bootstraps himself. I didn’t know how much of it I believed, but I had seen pictures of his family before he ran away and started making deals with local businessmen. He’d never had anywhere to go but up.

Once he got there, though, he had all these expectations of how life was supposed to work if someone wanted to be successful – namely, if I wanted to be successful. Getting pregnant out of wedlock by a married man didn’t fit in line with what he thought a successful lifestyle looked like. I had to agree. I didn’t feel successful— unless screwing up my life had been my goal, but that wasn’t my plan.

I had never seen him this angry. Sure, there had been plenty of times when I’d messed up before. What kid never upset their parents? But even when I ran over my mom’s Pomeranian the first time I drove out of the driveway, he hadn’t been this mad.

I could see my mother crying into her hands in her white evening gown behind my father. She sat at the dining room table, removed from the messy emotions in the living room. She didn’t want to get any of it on her. Yet, her own emotions seemed to be taking over.

“You see what you’ve done to your poor mother?” my dad growled when he caught my eyes straying to her.

My family wasn’t the warmest, but I had never doubted their love for me. They had their own ways of showing it, by providing for me and making sure everything went as smoothly as possible. They had gone to great lengths to provide their ideal life for their less than ideal daughter.

I preferred baggy jeans and loose shirts to their prim and proper, perfectly fitting formal wear. I preferred color, and lots of it. My room looked like it belonged on the opposite end of the solar system from the rest of their minimalist house. My wardrobe was vibrant and sometimes chaotic, like Arshile Gorky, the abstract expressionist. I couldn’t have been more different from my parents.

At the same time, they tolerated me as much as I imagined they were able to. My grades were good. I never got into any trouble, other than the occasional upset at home. And I excelled at almost anything I did academically. Since I did well in school and showed promise, as my father often said, they were willing to put up with my expressive lifestyle and personality so long as I didn’t purchase any nude artwork or turn up my indie rock records too loud while they were home. Yes, I listened to vinyl; it was the only way to really enjoy the music.

I met Dylan at a benefit auction held by a local gallery the summer after my senior year. My folks had given me some money to purchase something inspiring (my word, for once, not theirs, and I wasn’t even sure it was in their vocabulary) for my apartment when I moved off to Harvard. They felt it was only fitting that their artsy daughter had some real art to hang in her room.

Dylan was a successful banker who had a deep appreciation for fine art, but he didn’t like his art nice and neat. He didn’t like his structure clear, his focus handed to him and prescribed to him by the artist. He liked it messy. Picasso was too tame and seemed afraid of his own vision, he would tell me. He liked artists like Jackson Pollack. He liked art that did more than convey meaning. He liked it to create an experience.

And I had never met someone who spoke more romantically to me than he did when he talked about art. He was going through a rough patch in his marriage. She didn’t understand him. She had even gone so far as to turn his kids against him. He was planning on moving out and filing for a divorce, but he knew it wasn’t going to be pretty. He knew she was going to try to take him for all he was worth, and he was worth a lot. He was worth as much as some of the art hanging in that gallery, maybe even more.

Ours had been a whirlwind romance. He visited me at school whenever he was free. Whenever I was home for break or vacation, I would sneak off with him. He was my first, the first. I gave myself to him in his private art gallery at his home while his wife and kids were out of town, visiting her parents. He made love to me like the paintings he loved. It was messy and passionate. It was intense, emotionally and visually.

I gave myself to him whenever there was a chance, but it was still a surprise when I turned up pregnant. I thought we had been careful. We had used protection some of the time. The rest of the time he pulled out and let me finish him other ways. There were people out there who tried and tried but never could get pregnant. I took that as a sign that as long as we had put in some effort to avoid it, we were fine. I trusted him to take care of me like he said he would.

I found out right before summer break at the end of my junior year. I had one year left to go, and I didn’t know what to do. I knew I had to finish school. I was too close not to. I also knew a lot of girls didn’t finish, or at least didn’t finish on time, once they got pregnant.

I went to see him before I even went home to my parents’ house. He slammed his door in my face and told me to stop harassing his family. He stopped answering my calls and texts. When I called and got the message that the phone was no longer in service, I knew I had nowhere else to go but my parents, which was how I ended up cowering from my father on the couch while he shouted to the heavens about how horrible I was and how I was ruining his life.

After enough time had passed, my dad seemed to come down from his rage a little. His voice lowered and turned serious instead of frantic. He put a hand on my shoulder and sat down next to me.

My body shook. My breath came in sharp, hysterical bursts. I fought back tears and tried to maintain a straight face. I never cried in front of my dad. It was not permitted. My mom was allowed to cry because my dad had accepted that she was weak a long time ago. At twenty-one, there was still a chance for me to be strong. My dad wanted me to be stronger than my mom, and he rarely missed a chance to remind me of that.

“Lucy, there are other options. We can send you to spend the summer with family in Washington, and no one here has to know anything different,” he said as calmly as possible.

“Bryan,” my mom hissed through her runny makeup and tear soaked face.

“Lauren, I’m just trying to help here,” my dad replied in a calm, almost reassuring voice.

“Our daughter is not going to have an…an…abortion,” she said indignantly. I could tell it was hard for her to even say the word. For once, I agreed with her. No way in hell was I going to do that.

“Laur, she can’t have the thing,” my dad argued.

“It’s not a thing,” I snapped, pushing him away from me. “It’s a baby, and I’m keeping my child.”

He looked at me as if I had slapped him. Behind him, my mom stared at us in stunned silence. Much like everything else in their perfect life, I had been planned. They had left no room for messes and, as I was learning, unplanned pregnancies created quite a mess.

My dad was shaking, but he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He looked me dead in the eyes, and I saw all the anger and resentment he felt toward me at that moment. I felt it just as I would have felt heat from a fire.

“You are not going to have that child out of wedlock in this house. If you want someone to take you and that bastard in, go find the bastard who got you pregnant in the first place,” my father bellowed. He stood up and raised his hand to point at the door.

“Bryan, please,” my mom pleaded.

“Not now, Lauren. She is not staying.” He didn’t even look back at her. He kept his eyes fixed on me.

“Lucy, honey, at least go pack some things to take with you,” my mom said sweetly.

My dad grumbled something under his breath as I took the opportunity to get out of the room. I heard them arguing downstairs while I went upstairs and packed my backpack full of clothes and small necessities. I figured I was only going to be gone for a couple of nights before I was able to come back for the rest of my things.

My hands shook. My heart raced. My mind was working overtime, trying to figure out what I was going to do, where I was going to stay. My eyes watered again as I looked around my room one last time. I looked at all the things I was going to leave behind. There was also my student apartment at school. I had no idea what was going to happen with all of that. I had one year left, dammit! I thought about running off to attend school, but it wouldn’t have been any use. My dad wasn’t going to pay for school or an apartment now.

There was a knock at my door. My dad’s voice came from the other side, barely muffled by the thin wood. “I want you out of the house. Now! Go have that bastard child somewhere else!”

Chapter 1

Blade

In my office in the back, music thumped through the walls from the main room. The rhythmic thud of the bass from outside my office told me who was onstage. I could tell my girls apart by the tempo and style of their music. Some were soulful and took their time to build up the audience, while others preferred to be fast-paced and exciting. I prided myself on having something for everyone.

Unfortunately for some of my clients, however, I didn’t have prostitutes. All my women were professional dancers. They were clean. I had to run a clean business to stay in business. I didn’t allow my women to sell extra services or go onstage under any illegal influences. I didn’t like to let them drink before performing, but I understood that sometimes nerves took their toll.

Women didn’t come to me because they wanted to make it big in the stripping business. They came to me because what we did paid well. They were almost always down on their luck or looking for a quick, easy buck to get by until things picked up. Others just realized they had talent and made more money working the pole than they could have made working nine-to-five.

But now I had to audition new girls because three of my lovely ladies had been selling their bodies on the side. They had been offering more than lap dances in the private rooms and picking up clients of their own from our crowd.

The cops had been harassing me about it for months, which brought the guys in the Vicious Thrills MC down with me. I didn’t need special attention from the cops because some of my girls didn’t know how to handle themselves as professionals. It was already an exotic dance club, and I was already a known member of the local motorcycle club.

Basically, the cops wanted to believe that any businesses our members ran were merely money laundering fronts for the MC. There was never anything out of the ordinary when they checked my books, so I let the evidence speak for itself. It allowed me to maintain both my innocence and my reputation.

Letting go of my edge would have been bad for business, so I let people believe what they wanted to believe. As long as they couldn’t find any signs of wrong-doing, I was in the clear, but I stayed sleazy and hard in the eyes of the law and, more importantly, my patrons. Image was everything.

The ad I had put in the local underground paper turned up quite a few girls to take the positions I needed filled at The Bounce House Gentlemen’s Club. So far none of them had been right. There was never any shortage of girls who were willing to bare it all for money in the city. The streets were a rough place, especially for young women.

But that didn’t mean every girl who found herself on the street belonged on my stage. There were shelters, churches, and other places for women whose talents and looks didn’t quite fit what I needed.

I had lost count of the girls who had come through my office, and I was starting to lose interest when the petite strawberry blonde with bright blue eyes came in. She wore jeans that were a little loose and a t-shirt that hinted at the curve of her breasts.

What caught my attention most of all was the innocence in her face. She looked young. There was no way she was old enough to be on my stage. She was young and undefiled, and there was no way she needed to be there. I couldn’t help her, and I certainly wasn’t about to hire someone who looked underage, not with the cops keeping a close eye on the place. Still, there was something about her.

My ex-wife had strawberry blonde curls like this innocent doll-faced princess in front of me. There was something similar in her eyes, too, something that took me back to when I had first fallen in love with my ex-wife, before she had turned into the heinous bitch who had left me holding just my balls in my hand at the end of our marriage.

I didn’t want to let another innocent little beauty get ruined by this life. She was hot, but she was not a dancer. She might have been good in bed, but I did not want to put her on the market like that.

“And who might you be?” I asked, forcing myself to form words.

“My name’s Lucy,” she said meekly.

There was a sadness in her voice, but there was also determination. She didn’t sound like she had much confidence, but she made it clear that wasn’t going to stop her from trying. That was an admirable quality in a person.

“Is Lucy your real name or your stage name?” I asked. It was a legitimate question in my line of work. I didn’t want to call her by her real name at work. Besides, if I hadn’t asked, I would have assumed a name like Lucy was a cute little stage name for a good girl gone bad, just like the one in front of me.

“I don’t have a stage name. I’ve never done this before,” she answered bashfully.

I adjusted myself in my pants. Those were the words every man wanted to hear from a girl. Professionally those words were a red flag, but, personally, they drew me in. I wanted to see what this pretty little tart could do before I told her no and sent her packing.

My office was only for the first part of the interview process. I usually talked the girls up a little bit and tried to get a feel for who they were. I wanted to know if they were going to fit in or be problematic with my other girls. I didn’t do that with Lucy. I wasn’t planning on keeping her around. I just wanted to get a look at her.

I had my phone plugged into a speaker set on my desk. I reached over and hit play to start some music for her to dance to. The rhythmic bass in the little desktop speakers didn’t quite drown out the PA system in the main room, but it gave her a little something to work with, not that I expected much from her. She stood stiffly and looked like me with wide, scared eyes.

Her inexperience showed all over her face. She was probably the type who made sure her blinds were closed before she got ready for bed. She probably slept in a full nightgown with a high neck to keep herself perfectly hidden. She was so virginal and puritan, I didn’t expect much more from her than I was already seeing.

“Go ahead and show me how you dance,” I urged her, sitting back in my chair. I had one hand down on my lap, cupping the growing bulge in my pants. My other arm rested on the arm of the chair, holding my chin in my hand.

“Shouldn’t I have a pole or something?” she asked nervously, glancing around the room.

Her nervousness was heartbreaking. “Just show me what you can do first. It’s not all pole dancing out there. I want to see how you handle your body.” I wanted to handle her body. I wanted to see what she was trying to hide under those clothes. I stroked myself through my pants, thinking about what I could do to a girl like Lucy.

I reached over and skipped to the next song on my playlist. The energy suddenly picked up. It was a much fiercer dance number than the previous song. I watched as her hips started to sway slowly to the beat. I told myself she needed to warm up and reminded myself to be patient with her. After all, she did say it was her first time.

Once she found her groove, she started moving her body like she was begging me to touch her, like she was inviting someone to join her or take her right there in the office. The other someone in the room was me, and I was having a very hard time staying on my side of the desk. I didn’t touch my girls. It was part of being careful and keeping work clean.

But Lucy wasn’t one of my girls.

She pressed herself against the desk and started working her hips like she was trying to grind on someone behind her. I watched in awe as this unlikely little thing moved her body like the pros out there on the stage.

I stopped the music and she stood up straight, pushing her strawberry curls out of her face.

“Why’d you stop it?” she asked, out of breath.

“I think I’ve seen enough,” I told her. I couldn’t even imagine what she would have been like on the pole. She would have blown everyone away. Hell, she could have probably pulled more money than the other girls without even using the pole. There were girls out there who didn’t use it much, but I was sure if she touched it, the world itself would have had an erection.

I sure as hell had one. I hunched over the desk and thanked her for coming in.

“I thought I did pretty well,” she argued.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I put you through that. I really shouldn’t have, but I think I’ve got enough girls now,” I lied. I didn’t have any new girls. I was going to have to choose from a far less qualified but more experienced batch simply to keep from having the cops on me for an underage dancer. Even if I accepted that she was of age, she didn’t look it, and appearances were everything. A young dancer would have certainly brought in some business, though probably the wrong kind.

“Okay,” she said quietly, lowering her head.

“Thank you for coming in,” I told her as she turned and walked away. I wanted to get her number to call her for myself, but I told myself to let her go. Like so many others, she was bound to find her way.

I heard all manner of sad sob stories from girls who came through my office, but Lucy was possibly the saddest of all, and she hadn’t told me anything about herself other than her name. She crumbled as she walked away. All the wind had been pulled from her sails.

I sighed. I wanted to help her, but the club wasn’t the place for her. I couldn’t help girls who couldn’t help me. I tried to tell myself she was just another lost soul.

“All right, work,” I told myself out loud in my office, forcing my attention back to the interviews. I didn’t have time to let every single girl get on the stage, and I was doing these interviews during business hours instead of the middle of the afternoon. As long as I was there, I was going to see my prospective dancers. I was working my remaining girls to death to cover for the three I’d let go.

I adjusted myself for the next girl and called her in. I saw several more before calling it a night on the interviews. I told the remaining girls I had already hired the girls I needed. It was such an easy lie to use. Most of them didn’t even question it. They simply sighed or rolled their eyes and wandered on down to the next place.

That was fine by me. I had a stack of papers and a nice collection of photos in my phone to go with them. I figured that when I went back through that stack, I was bound to find my new girls. I closed my door and sat back down behind my desk. I was underwhelmed by the selection and overwhelmed by the sheer number of girls I was about to dig back through.

Chapter 2

Lucy

I walked out of The Bounce House strip club and crossed the parking lot. It was as dead outside was it had been inside. The so-called ‘gentlemen’s club’ was in a seedy, rundown section of town, but I had heard on the street that a lot of money passed through it. Some of the girls made bank night after night.

I saw the ad in the local independent newspaper. The ad requested girls who were a cut above the rest and not afraid to bare it all. I had never done anything like that, but I had run out of options. Stripping was my last stop. There was nowhere left to go.

When I had left my parents’ house, I went to Dylan’s house first, but the windows were dark and there were no cars in the driveway. I peeked in and saw an empty house. I wondered how he’d picked up his family and relocated so quickly, but it wasn’t important. What mattered was he was gone. He probably wasn’t leaving his wife. He’d probably taken her with him.

With what money I had in my checking account, I checked into a cheap hotel room. I didn’t need anything fancy or expensive, just a bed and a shower. Carpet and wallpaper leftover from the age of disco didn’t hurt either. The musty room featured stained curtains, a dirty window that could only barely be seen through, and an air conditioner in the wall that clanged and knocked whenever it came on.

It was a roof over my head, and it was incredibly orange, which was better than the world outside. The city was just different shades of gray smudged together like a charcoal drawing. At night, it lit up with old yellow-brown street lights that merely emphasized the pools of darkness between them. Still, it was color.

From my 1970s hotel room, I had attempted to find a job. I had a handful of marketable office and people skills. I was a Harvard undergrad studying business and economics. All the opportunities in the city should have been open to me, but there was one problem: my dad knew every major businessman in the city.

He had gone ahead and taken the liberty of making sure there were no job opportunities available to me because I was pregnant out of wedlock. I had even been turned away by a few receptionists before even speaking to anyone because they simply knew who I was thanks to my dad. I was beginning to see the downside of being the daughter of a successful, wealthy, and powerful man like my father. He had everyone’s strings in his hand and could easily pull them, one by one.

I had taken dance classes back in high school. It wasn’t ballet or anything like that. My parents knew I never would have gone for anything that artsy. I learned real dances, like the waltz, tango, salsa, and dances like that. I learned how to move my body and use it to express myself. We had even focused on some popular dances, and not just traditional or formal dance styles. I knew how to handle myself enough to dance on the stage at a strip joint.

I figured I only had a few months to dance before the baby started to show, so I was going to work and save up enough money to get back on my feet by the time I started showing. At that time, I was probably going to have to figure something else out, but I was going to work on that while I was dancing. I had to take it one step at a time.

Before going in to get an interview, I got some bad news from the hotel manager. My account had been frozen. I had no money to continue paying for the room. On my way out to The Bounce House, I had to pack all my things up and carry them with me. I had left my pack outside the office before going in to see the sleazy owner.

I couldn’t believe he hadn’t given me the job after the way he had watched me. I saw the hunger in his eyes. He stared at me with his gray eyes and his shiny black hair slicked back. He scrutinized my every move from his leather desk chair. He’d kept one hand under the desk the whole time. I was sure he’d been touching himself while I stood in front of him.

His office was dark. There was one hard white light on his desk, but everything else was black, and not the black of my parents’ living room. Their black created a contrast to show just how sterile everything was. The black of his office emphasized the dead-end feel of his establishment. The place was as seedy as the world outside.

It hadn’t been much of an interview either. He didn’t ask me about myself other than to get my name. He hadn’t even introduced himself to me. It was like I was supposed to accept that he was who he said he was just because he sat behind the desk with a perverse hunger in his eyes.

I didn’t get a look at him from the waist down, which was probably a good thing, but I saw a few pieces of ink on his forearms. His vest looked like a biker vest with patches on it. The one patch I could read said Blade, so I figured that was his name, or at least what the gang called him.

After I walked out of his office, I cried.

I sat down on the curb at the edge of the parking lot and cried. Everything came crashing down on me at once. I had lost my virginity to a man who more than likely never cared about me at all. I was preparing to have a baby instead of starting my senior year of college. I had been kicked out of my house. I couldn’t find a job. I’d lost the one place I had to stay.

I was alone, and I was at the end of my rope. There was only one option left that I could see, and I didn’t want to take it. I didn’t want to sell my body to make ends meet. I’d heard stories about women getting stuck on the streets that way. It seemed like the way to make a good bit of money at first, but the story always seemed to go the same way. Once they started, they found it harder and harder to get back above it. That wasn’t going to be me.

I felt like there was a time limit on anything I was going to do. I had a baby on the way, and I didn’t foresee myself continuing to work immediately after it was born. It. I wasn’t even far enough along to know my baby’s gender. I was having to call my unborn child it.

I wept in the dirty, oil-stained parking lot under an old yellow streetlight. It was the first time I had cried since the whole thing began. I never cried; it was a sign of weakness in our home, and my dad insisted he wasn’t going to raise a weak daughter. Well, I wasn’t home anymore. A nice private cry in the parking lot of a strip joint wasn’t going to upset anyone who wasn’t there to see it.

The world was not what I had expected. Leaving my parents’ house, I had strange, romanticized notions of what the streets were like. There was always a way to make a buck. People who were down on their luck would stick together and help each other out. The people were colorful even if nothing else was.

But that wasn’t what I had encountered at all. Everyone I had met was out for themselves. They had no time to worry about anyone else while they were trying to get off the streets. There was always a way to make a buck; it was called prostitution. It was the lowest of the low, the most desperate act, and it was illegal. I wasn’t about to have my baby behind bars. Most of the people I had met were not colorful. They were as gray and dirty as the city streets they walked.

I figured I had hit rock bottom. I cried because I didn’t know what else to do. I could have gone home, but my dad would have shipped me off to family in Washington to have an abortion. At the end of summer, I would have returned to college as if nothing had happened, and I would have been expected to carry on like normal. Except I would have known what had happened, and I would have carried that guilt and shame with me without being able to divulge my truth to anyone.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to get up and run away, but there was nowhere else to go. I just sat there and waited. I didn’t really know what I was waiting for. A miracle, maybe.

In all the time I sat out there crying into my hands, not a single person walked by. No cars drove by. It was almost silent other than the far-off sounds of traffic, the interstate highway that cut through downtown, and the occasional siren. But all the city sounds were off in the distance. Nothing was going on where I was. I was at the end of everything. There was nothing beyond where I sat.

It was a horrible feeling. Nothing in my colorful, hopeful life had prepared me for this. I looked around me at empty parking garages, abandoned cars, and deserted gray streets. It was surreal. I tried to tell myself that if I were sitting in the empty parking lot of a strip club, I was better off than the girls inside trying to perform for an empty room. At least I wasn’t stuck having to work for nothing. I still had the opportunity to get off my ass and try to find another job.

Who was I kidding? I couldn’t even get a job dancing. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs. I buried my face between my knees and sobbed.

I did one thing wrong, one thing, and my whole life was ruined. I was supposed to be finishing school, dammit! I was supposed to be getting ready to go out into the world and pave my own way through it, not crying my eyes out in front of a strip club. And I certainly wasn’t supposed to be pregnant and alone.

Chapter 3

Blade

After going back through the girls I had interviewed, I found a couple that had done all right. Well, they did well enough for me to convince myself to call them back in for a test run on the stage, to see how much work they needed to do before they were ready to go on. I looked back over my roster and plugged their names in where the others had been. I still needed one more girl. I glanced at the stack of girls’ names on my desk. There was no way in hell I was going to hire any of them. I really needed that last girl to fill things in, but I figured I’d be able to make it work without her. I had to, until I could find a replacement for that last slot.

My neck and shoulders were stiff from sitting and talking to these girls all evening. Normally, I loved my job, but lately it was starting to seem like we’d used up all the talent the city had to offer. That was pretty impressive, but it also sucked.

I grabbed my cigarettes and stood up from my desk. I fished one out and let it dangle from my lips as I walked out through the bar. There were absolutely no patrons. A couple of my girls – Ariel and Cinnamon – lazily twirled their bodies around two of the three poles on the stage. They almost looked like they were practicing, but I could see in their faces they were just killing time. Molly leaned her elbows on the bar, staring off in the direction of the stage. Knowing her, she probably didn’t even see the girls on the poles.

I sighed. “Chin up, ladies, it’s still early.” It was early, but some nights were just slow. I couldn’t help but feel like my recent string of bad luck had something to do with it. I was about to turn all of that around. Once I was able to give my ladies a bit of a break, I was sure we were going to start packing the house every night.

I stepped outside to the abandoned parking lot surrounding joint and lit my cigarette just outside the front door. The summer night air was heavy with the fumes of the city around me. It was the perfect night for a few smokes, a few drinks, and some bad decisions that hopefully led to good times with few incriminating memories.

I was in a bind. We were in a bind. My girls were getting tired, and many of my regulars didn’t seem pleased that I had to let some of their favorites go. If I hadn’t, they wouldn’t have had a place to go to watch girls strip and dance for them. What were they supposed to do, go home and let their wives do it? If their wives and girlfriends had done it in the first place, I never would have been in business.

I listened to the paper on my cigarette crackle slightly as I took another long drag. The air was that heavy and still. I could hear the small sounds close by, not only the noise of the city streets. All those sounds were far off in the distance, background noise.

I surveyed the scene around me, looking for someone to invite into the club, but there was no one out on the street. As my eyes passed over the parking lot, I saw someone hunched over on the curb.

I couldn’t tell who she was at first. I walked around to get a better look; I didn’t care if I was being obvious. She was on my property, and if she was someone who needed to move along, I probably needed to help facilitate that for her.

She didn’t look homeless. Her clothes were nice and mostly clean. Her strawberry blonde hair spilled over her knees. It was the young girl from the interviews. Lucy. I caught myself wondering what she was still doing there. The other girls had already left. They’d gone home or onto their next stop.

My stomach sank and my veins froze. I didn’t like the way she was sitting, practically curled into a ball with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Something was wrong. Was she crying?

I hoped she wasn’t crying. I didn’t want to deal with a crying woman. That was my number one weakness. I knew I should have turned around and walked inside. If I answered the call to protect her or at least help her in her vulnerable state, I was going to allow myself to get pulled into whatever her situation was. It was inevitable.

I sighed. My ex-wife had used tears as a trap and a weapon against me. I knew better than to give in. This girl was a stranger. I didn’t know her story. No one would have thought less of me for walking back in. I shook my head. I could stand up to any man who walked through the door of my business, but I couldn’t stand up to a crying girl.

I flicked my cigarette into the darkness at the edge of the parking lot and blew out the last puff of smoke. I couldn’t have a girl sitting on the curb at the edge of my parking lot crying, especially after I rejected her for a dancing job.

I started to approach her. She looked up, seeing me at last, and wiped her face frantically. She had been crying. Her swollen, red eyes and runny makeup told the story. She pushed her hair back from her face as I approached and seemed to tighten the ball she was curled up into, like she was trying to make herself vanish so I wouldn’t talk to her, but it was too late. I had seen her, and I was closing in to find out what was wrong. I had been lured in by her tears. There was no turning back for me.

“Hey,” I said as casually as I could. I knelt down and put a hand on the denim fabric covering her knee.

“Hey,” she croaked, looking at me with what was either resentment or suspicion, or maybe a mix of both. I had certainly earned both reactions from her by rejecting her and then stalking her in my parking lot.

“Are you all right?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what to say. That was how it worked with crying. I wanted to snap my fingers and fix everything without having to dig into any of it.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She sniffed and nodded hurriedly, obviously uncomfortable talking to me. I couldn’t blame her. I had dismissed her pretty coolly, but this was a different matter completely in my opinion.

“Are you sure?” I prodded. I wasn’t going to take a halfhearted I’m fine as an answer.

I sat down on the curb and put an arm around her cautiously. She was too young, too beautiful, and too clean to be sitting out on the street like she was. She didn’t look like the other girls who had come to me. They had all lived rough lives that brought them to me. She had obviously lived a fairly comfortable life— at least materialistically, if not emotionally.

She put her head on my shoulder, continuing to sniffle occasionally. She fidgeted with her young hands on her knees, keeping her beautiful blue eyes focused on whatever her fingers were doing. She was young and damaged. Something terrible must have happened for her to find herself like this. I wanted to take her in both of my arms and hold her until whatever it was had passed.

She kept looking intently at her hands, forcing herself not to look at the man who was offering her his shoulder. I was torn between asking her what was wrong again and just letting her sit there until she was ready to tell me on her own.

The latter seemed easier. It required less on everyone’s part, so I let her sit like that for a minute, until she let out a deep sigh and sat up straight again. She wiped her eyes with her hand and looked at me.

“Thank you,” she said, and I could see that she was fighting back tears again.

“What happened to you?” I asked. The words fell out of my mouth and landed between us.

Her devastated blue eyes searched my face. They seemed to be searching for the answer. Or maybe she was checking to see if it was safe to honestly answer me. I knew I could be intimidating, but I was trying to be comforting. I was going to try my best to help her.

Her lip quivered and the corners of her mouth turned downward. She was about to start crying again. It was definitely a trap, but it wasn’t one that she had set. It was one the universe itself had set for me, to make sure I didn’t leave her side and to make sure that she wasn’t alone on the street.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Just let it out.” I pulled her back to me and let her cry on my shoulder. She started sobbing. She still hadn’t told me what was going on, but it looked like I wasn’t going anywhere. I smoothed her hair down with one hand and put the other on her knee. I never stood a chance against her.

It went on like that for a while, with me whispering soothing things over her head and petting her gently. I was in full-on protective mode. Someone had hurt this poor young girl, and she had found her way to me as a result. It was my job to take care of her, whether I wanted another person around or not.

“Hey, do you want to come back in? I can get you a cup of coffee or something. A shot of something if you’re old enough,” I suggested. I sort of fumbled over my words. What was wrong with me? I was usually so big, strong, and confident, and I prided myself on those qualities. With Lucy, I was reduced to a bumbling idiot.

“No,” she sobbed. “I’ll stop bothering you.” She sat up again and wiped her face.

“No,” I said, suddenly regaining my confidence. “You’re coming in with me. Come on.” I didn’t want to sound mean, but I did want her to know I was taking charge of the situation. She was too upset for me to ignore whatever it was. She didn’t owe me anything, and I certainly didn’t owe her. But I wasn’t about to leave her outside in this shape. The street was no place for a girl like her, especially as vulnerable as she was.

I got up and took her hand, guiding her up with me. She looked at me again with suspicion in her eyes. It killed me.

“Look, just come in and tell me what’s going on. Let me fix you a cup of coffee or grab you something from the bar. But let’s get you sorted out so you can figure out what your next step is.” I may not have known what her exact story was, but it couldn’t have been too different from all the other stories I heard from girls who came to see me. Regardless of what it was, I wanted her to know this wasn’t the end of the line.

“Okay,” she said dryly, and her lip started quivering again, like she was about to start crying.

I put a hand on her lower back and guided her through the door. As we walked through the front room, I turned to Molly and asked her to get us some coffee. I took Lucy back to my office and offered her a seat on the couch, where she collapsed into a lump on the old black pleather.

Chapter 4

Lucy

“So, is Blade your name?” I said after sitting in silence with him back in his office, referring to the patch on the front of his vest.

“Oh, yeah, that?” He glanced down and smiled. “That’s what everyone calls me. My real name is Devin, but call me Blade like everyone else.”

“Blade it is,” I said, taking another sip of the coffee his bartender had brought us.

I had expected him to run me off when he came out and saw me still hanging around his parking lot. He was a big burly biker. He ran a titty-bar for crying out loud! He didn’t need people like me sitting around, bringing everyone down. Sure, he’d been interested in me when I was in his office. He’d been staring at me with those intense gray eyes, but I figured that interest was gone as soon as he rejected me and sent me packing.

I continued wiping my tears away even once we got back in his office. I didn’t want him, of all people, to see me crying. Not only was he a complete stranger, but I didn’t want the man I just asked for a job to know I was that new to everything. I had asked for a job stripping and dancing on his stage. I figured letting him find me out in the parking lot crying was a rookie move, showing how inexperienced I was.

It was embarrassing to let anyone see me in that shape. I dried my eyes with tissues he handed me, and we waited for the coffee to come in.

It was surreal being back in his office. Before, I had been in there because I was looking for a job. He had been a potential employer. My second visit was personal. This man I had been taught to avoid was offering me a brief respite from my grieving and lamenting.

As a biker, I expected him to be rough and hard. I could see a little ink on his arms from where his sleeves were rolled back, but he probably had tattoos all over his body, everywhere that was hidden from view. He’d probably been to prison before. He was built. He had broad shoulders, ripped arms that barely fit in his shirt sleeves. His cheekbones and jawline were very pronounced. His resting expression was hard and mean. He looked like he was ready for a fight.

As the owner of a strip club, I expected him to have little respect for women. He exploited them on his stage every night. He made money off their bodies. He was supposed to want some sort of favor for helping me and getting me off the street for a little while. I also knew if I refused to perform a favor like that, I was going to be back on the street as soon as I finished the coffee.

I had been told to avoid men like him in favor of reputable men with aspirations. I had chased men of reputation the whole time when I was growing up. I had found myself in my current situation after seeing a successful, responsible man. And the two most influential men in my life had both turned their backs on me and slammed doors in my face, while a biker thug had invited me in off the street after sitting on the curb comforting me.

That says a lot about my expectations, I thought.

“So, do you mind telling me what’s going on?” he finally asked.

I nodded. “Oh, that,” I said flatly. I took another sip of coffee and placed the cup on his desk. I sat forward on the couch and told him about the fight with my dad and getting kicked out. I didn’t tell him what the fight was about or that I had tried to chase my lover down after leaving the house only to find that he had left town with his family. I didn’t need to tell a complete stranger all of my details.

“You can’t stay with any friends?” he asked me.

I laughed. “No. There’s no one to stay with.” I had gone to school all my life with the children of people like my parents, making my peers pretty similar to my mom and dad. Someone might have taken me in at first, but once they started asking questions and learned the reason I was kicked out, they would have distanced themselves from me. What I had done was completely unacceptable.

Honestly, if I had been one of my friends, and they were coming to me for help in the situation I found myself in, I wouldn’t have helped them much. I would have sent them packing, as well. This whole thing was providing me with a very generous dose of perspective.

I didn’t feel like I needed to explain all of that to Blade. He probably saw some of it already by looking at me and figured it out from what I had already told him about my life.

“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “Where have you been staying? You don’t look like you’ve been on the street long.”

I sighed again and looked down at the floor. I told him about the hotel and my father freezing my money, because, well, he was on all my accounts. I took that as a lesson learned for future reference.

I grabbed the coffee mug and took one last, long sip, putting it back on the desk when I finished. I stood up and reached down for my backpack.

“Thank you for the coffee, Mr. Blade,” I said as politely as I could. He wasn’t going to be my Prince Charming. He wasn’t going to save me. He was nice and very different from what I expected, but he wasn’t a saint.

“It’s just Blade,” he said, standing up from his desk.

“Well, thank you anyway. I need to get going. I need to figure where I’m sleeping tonight,” I told him and started toward the door.

“Hey, hold on a minute. No one said you had to leave,” he said, stepping around the desk. He put a hand lightly on my arm. The touch sent shockwaves through me. I felt like we connected briefly. His large, powerful hand carried such a tender touch. He was obliterating my expectations left and right.

“But I don’t want to impose. You’ve got a business to run, and I need to handle my situation myself,” I argued.

“No, you don’t need to go back out there,” he insisted.

“Where else am I going to go?” I asked, stepping away.

“I’ve got room at my house. You can crash for tonight. I’m not offering to fix all of your problems, but you can take some time to figure out what’s next,” he said.

“No, I can’t. I really don’t want to get in the way,” I said, clutching the strap on my pack with both hands.

“No worries, Lucy,” he said. “Look, come back in and have a seat. I can’t let you go back out there on the street. These streets will eat someone like you alive. Hell, they’ll eat anyone alive.”

I let him lead me back into his office. I sat back down on the couch and let my backpack fall from my shoulder. I sighed. The only thing I liked less than looking for help was accepting it. I wanted to do everything for myself, but I couldn’t.

“I can’t pay you,” I told him.

“Don’t worry about it right now. We’ll figure something out,” he told me.

I cocked an eyebrow. I figured he was used to taking women in and letting them work it off at the club or something like that. It seemed like the kind of thing he would have done as the owner of the club.

“Look, I’ve got a few things to do to wrap up for the night. Just hang out on the couch, lie down, whatever. I’ll be back as soon as I’m finished,” he said on his way back through the door.

I looked at the worn out, sagging cushions on the couch. It looked like it could have used a couple good doses of penicillin itself, but it was better than a cardboard box under the interstate overpass. As he stepped out and closed the door to his office, I sprawled out across the couch.

I fought back tears as I thought about his kindness. It was unexpected and really unwarranted. He didn’t know me. He didn’t owe me anything. For all he knew, I could have been using my sob story to scam him out of money or valuables. Had I been more seasoned and more cunning, I would have taken the opportunity, alone in his office, to search for his safe and take whatever I found inside it.

I wasn’t that girl, though. I lay on the couch and listened to the thumping music through the thin walls of his office. I closed my eyes and let the distant sounds of the club pull me into the darkness of sleep.

I wasn’t quite comfortable enough to go just yet. My mind continued to work, to mull over things. I sniffled and wiped my eyes again, trying to keep the tears at bay.

I felt my body relaxing while I lay there. I had a roof over my head. I was probably going to end up spending time with more colorful people. I wasn’t going to have to sleep on the street. I was safe for the time being.

Something about Blade seemed very trustworthy. It seemed like he was a man of his word. If he told me it was okay to sleep in his office, I knew I wasn’t going to be disturbed.

“Hey, come on, get up,” Blade said gently at some point, coming back into the office and waking me as I finally began to doze off.

I sat up and grabbed my bag from the floor.

“Let’s get you out of here and somewhere that’s actually comfortable,” he said, helping me get up from the couch.

I rubbed my tired, swollen eyes. “Yeah, let’s do that. And thank you again.”

“Don’t mention it.” He walked me out of his office with a hand on my back.

I wasn’t going to have to worry about a place to sleep, and I was grateful for that. After some of the people I had seen, especially some of the girls I’d seen coming and going from the club, it wasn’t lost on me how lucky I was to find someone like Blade who was willing to help me out pretty much at random.

Chapter 5

Blade

“Not what you expected, is it?” I asked Lucy as we pulled up to the gate in front of my house in my matte black Charger.

“You know,” she said, shaking her head and laughing.

“What?” I asked with a smirk on my face. I could tell I wasn’t at all what she had imagined from a sleazy biker who owned a strip club.

“You’re just full of surprises,” she said.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I told her.

“It definitely is.” She stared wide-eyed through my windshield as we pulled up the driveway.

My house was a wide two-story Southwestern ranch style home. It almost looked like a Spanish mission lifted from somewhere like Texas or New Mexico and relocated to a nice, lush, ritzy neighborhood. My lawn was perfectly manicured with a fountain in front of the main stairs leading up to the front door. The driveway circled around the fountain and branched off to the left to my three-car garage. I picked the layout of the house because it was open. I didn’t like all the closed off plans that so many of my neighbors had used.

Having been married and then divorced, I never wanted to feel confined again, by anything.

“It’s beautiful,” she said as we pulled around to the garage doors.

“Wait until you get inside,” I teased her.

“I can’t wait.” She actually sounded excited to see the rest of the house.

I had pegged her as someone who came from money. She was too clean, too untouched not to have come from a well-to-do family. Plus, they didn’t breed girls with bodies so perfectly proportioned on the streets where I came from. I started to think I had been right about the kind of money she did come from, though. She came from stiff, uptight money.

She must have done something naughty to get kicked out. I had a hardening desire to figure out exactly what it was. And I wanted to know if she was willing to do it again.

We got out of the car, and I walked her in through the front door.

“There’s a door right here,” she said as we walked out of the garage. “Don’t go out of your way just for me.” She was laughing at me for taking her around to the front, but I couldn’t resist. I had to show off at least a little bit.

“It’s more impressive from the front door, trust me,” I assured her as she walked up the steps with me.

I unlocked the door and opened it, revealing Italian marble floors, high ceilings, beautiful crystal chandeliers, and beautiful sculptures of Greek and Roman goddesses standing in the living room.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said again, in awe. “You’re pulling my leg, right? This isn’t you.”

“It is,” I said. “It really is. Now, the whole house isn’t as big as the living room. I know, it’s a bit much, but the rest of the house is still just as beautiful. Come on.”

I took her upstairs to show her the bedrooms and bathrooms. There were the two smaller guestrooms with their private bathrooms, and then there was my bedroom and the master bath attached to it. My bedroom had large wooden double doors that looked like something out of a castle. My king-sized, four-post bed had deep red sheer linen curtains hanging around it. There were curtains of the same color hanging in the windows that looked out over the pool. My room was warmly lit, and I always thought it was very inviting and cozy. At the same time, if I opened the curtains along the back wall, it opened up completely.

“You can leave your things in here,” I told her.

“But this is obviously your room,” she said. “I thought I’d sleep in one of the guestrooms.”

“No, we need to go over some rules, I guess. Leave your things. Let’s go downstairs and talk.” I held the door open so she could walk past me.

She followed me back down, and we walked into the open kitchen and dining room.

“I love your kitchen,” she said as we passed through it. She stopped and looked around at my dark counter tops and black-and-silver appliances. “I could really do some cooking in there,” she added almost as an aside.

I cocked an eyebrow, noting that she liked to cook. I gestured to the table and watched as she kept an eye on the kitchen. I assumed she was imagining cooking in there.

“Have you eaten?” I asked.

“I don’t want to impose.” She shook her head and seemed to shrink back.

“I can put on a pizza,” I told her.

“All this, and you want to make pizza?” she joked.

“Hey, it’s late, and I’m a bachelor,” I defended myself.

“Fair enough, I guess. A pizza sounds good, but if I’m staying here, I’m going to have to cook you some real food, at least for letting me stay. Cooking and cleaning is all I can really do to repay you,” she said as I walked into the kitchen.

I set the oven to preheat. “I’m sure I can find something else for you to do,” I said. Then, I turned to the fridge. “Beer?” I asked out of habit, stopping myself and turning around after I’d said it. “How old are you?”

She laughed again and blushed. “I’m old enough,” she assured me.

“Old enough, huh? I’m going to take your word for it,” I said as I grabbed a couple of light beers out of the fridge. I opened the bottles and handed her one.

“I’m twenty-one, Blade. I’m supposed to be going into my senior year of college next year, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen now,” she said, laughing even as she talked about her apparent change in plans.

“Tell me more,” I said as I sat down. It seemed I wasn’t the only one full of surprises here.

“I was a student at Harvard, but my dad has since withdrawn my enrollment,” she said.

“He can do that? If you’re an adult, you should be able to determine that for yourself,” I told her, mostly just thinking out loud.

“You would think. But he’s pulled back my tuition and pulled some strings up at the university to get me dropped,” she admitted. “He also froze my accounts, because I had him listed on each one. That’s how I ended up on the street. It wasn’t so bad when I had a hotel room.”

She might have come from a wealthy family, but she didn’t seem to be a spoiled little rich kid. I couldn’t tell if her understanding came from being naturally insightful, or she’d just woken up to it all as a result of her little reality check. No matter how it happened, I felt bad for her. She’d been dumped out on her ass. I really wanted to know what she’d done to get disowned by her family. It must have been good. I didn’t want to offend her by asking, and I was pretty sure she would tell me when she was ready.

“So, you said something about rules?” she asked.

“Yes, I did. The reason I told you to leave your bag upstairs and not to worry about cooking and cleaning is because I have a different request as payment for staying with me,” I started. It had been a few years since my divorce, and it was the first time someone else was going to be staying in the house.

Usually, if I brought someone home, they might have stayed the night at most, but I always kicked them out in the morning. Catch and release. I’d fuck her and send her on her way. I could tell already the situation with Lucy was going to be different. If we had sex, which we probably were, I was going to have to work for it, but I wasn’t going to kick her out until she had somewhere to go. That would have been a dick move.

“Do I want to know?” she asked with a raised eyebrow as she took a small sip from her bottle.

“It’s not that bad,” I assured her.

The oven dinged to let us know it was finished preheating. I got up and pulled the pizza out of the freezer to put into the oven.

“You have to sleep in my bed as long as you’re here,” I told her.

“I’m sorry?” She coughed and cleared her throat. “What was that?”

I slid the pizza into the oven and set the timer. “You don’t have to cook or clean or anything like that as long as you share the bed with me,” I reiterated as I sat back down at the table.

“Wait a minute, you’re serious.” She set her beer down and sat back in her chair to stare at me.

“I am.” I hadn’t had anyone actually stay with me in a while, and I thought it was only fair to ask for something in return for my hospitality. Besides, by having her that close physically, I was bound to find out what it was that got her in so much trouble. She had touched me with her crying, but that didn’t change the fact that I wanted to get her in bed with me. I wanted to corrupt that innocent young girl.

“I suppose you could have asked for worse,” she said with a shrug.

“True, I guess I could have.” I drank to that.

“I also want to talk to you about dancing,” she said. “I know you think I’m good. I saw how you were looking at me.”

She reminded me of my ex again, before the heinous bitch took over. She had been fairly straightforward, as well. She didn’t like to mince words. Lucy seemed to be missing the same filter that kept some people from being as open.

“Absolutely not,” I told her. “You are not dancing in my club.”

“Why not?” she asked. “I saw how slow it was tonight. You obviously need some new talent, and not any of those washed up skanks I saw waiting to interview with you.”

She was definitely a firecracker. I wondered what had caused her to open up and reveal herself to me. I liked the version of her sitting in front of me more than the scared little girl who’d been up at the club.

“You want to know why not? For one, you look too young. No one’s going to believe you’re old enough to be on that stage. Two, you’re too innocent, too smart, and too pretty. I’ve seen what this life does to girls. They turn into those washed up skanks. You don’t want to do it,” I tried to convince her. Somehow I knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, but I figured I’d give it one last try.

“You don’t understand, Blade. I really need the money. It’s worse than I’ve let on. I can’t tell you how bad, but I need the cash,” she said.

I sighed. “All right, I’ll give you a shot,” I told her. I wanted to know what was so bad that she’d been kicked out and cut off. I figured if I gave a little, I could get a little.

“Thank you, Blade,” she said, and I could hear the sincere gratitude in her voice.

“Yeah, no problem.” I shook my head and checked the timer on the oven. The pizza was almost done. I got up and grabbed my oven mitts.

“You won’t regret it,” she said cheerfully.

I already did, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I pulled the pizza out and started cutting it up into pieces to serve it up.

Chapter 6

Lucy

I had finally convinced Blade to let me take the stage at The Bounce House. After initially bringing it up that first night at his house, he’d agreed to let me do it, but it took a few days to make it actually happen.

“You’re not my old lady,” he’d warned me after finally agreeing to let me do it. “You’re not going to get any special treatment, no matter what the other girls think. You’re going to get treated just like anyone else. That means you’ve got to follow the same rules everyone else follows.”

We’d had the talk in his office before anyone else showed up. My stomach was full of anxious, excited butterflies. We stood in front of the desk. He’d already helped me pick out an outfit and everything. It was like a bikini but it was more sparkly, like it had been designed specifically to be worn onstage. I didn’t know much about this sort of thing.

I did know that more of my body was bare than usual already. I couldn’t believe I was about to take the stage and tear off what few clothes I was already wearing.

“First, you have to bare all if you want to go back out,” he told me.

I nodded. I understood, but that didn’t keep me from being nervous.

“Next, I’m going to tell you the same thing I tell all the girls when they go on the stage for the first time. No drugs. No sex with patrons. No prostitution. So, you can’t sleep with patrons for money or for free. And no touching beyond normal, incidental stuff. There are some touches that are just going to happen, but nothing intentional and sexual. Got it?” He was suddenly very serious. He was being careful with his words, I could tell, but his tone told me he wasn’t playing around.

“I need a name,” I told him.

He smirked. “Let’s call you Miss Ginger.”

“Miss Ginger,” I repeated, shrugging. “Sounds as good as anything else.”

We shook hands and I thanked him again before going into the dressing room behind the stage.

I stood backstage with the other girls, getting ready, and I saw what Blade had warned me about. They were shooting me dirty looks and talking under their breath to each other. I knew they were talking about me from the way they kept cutting their eyes at me.

I stood in there waiting on the girl on stage to come off while the others kept on talking about me. I fidgeted with my hands in front of me and stared at the floor, trying to keep calm and get up my nerve.

One of the girls who had been talking walked up finally and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Listen,” she said softly, “you’re not you when you’re out there. Don’t ever be you out there. What’s your name?”

“Lucy,” I said looking into the deep, seductive shade of green in her eyes.

“Lucy, what’s your stage name?” she asked patiently.

“Miss Ginger.”

“Miss Ginger.” She nodded. “I like it. Figure out who she is. I know you only have a minute, but figure out who Miss Ginger is and become her before you go out there. Leave Lucy back here.”

I was impressed that she’d stepped up to help me out. She patted me on the shoulder and walked away, back over to where the other girl was standing.

“Thank you,” I said, looking back.

I had to decide who Miss Ginger was. I wasn’t sure yet, but I did know that she wasn’t afraid like I was. Miss Ginger was comfortable with her body. Hell, she downright loved it. And she couldn’t wait to show it off and show her appreciation for herself. I just had to push myself, Lucy, out of the way.

The music stopped, and I heard the voice come over the PA system as the girl on stage came back through the curtain. She had her skimpy little outfit in her hand with money clenched against her body. She was completely nude and didn’t make any effort to hide her body from anyone. I watched as she ran into the dressing room and put her things down at her station.

“It’s pretty full out there tonight, girl. Knock ‘em out,” she said to me.

I was introduced, and the music started. Miss Ginger apparently liked pop music with a driving dance beat. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. I was going to leave Lucy behind and take Miss Ginger on stage to let her finally show herself off.

I hit the stage. I walked out underneath the lights. There was my color, and it kept changing with the music. I felt the bass pulsing through my body. I gave in to it. I started moving with it, and I could feel the energy coming at me. It wasn’t coming from the music or the lights.

The energy I felt on stage came from the shadowy figures sitting just beyond the lights. They were waiting for me to get closer. They were staring at me, and their eyes were pressuring me to take my clothes off while I danced. I tried to move seductively, just as I had in the office with Blade. I imagined his eyes on me, his hunger for me. I watched the eyes, working to see that same hunger in them.

It was a blast. I reached back and opened my top, letting it slide down from my shoulders to slowly reveal my breasts. I kept them cupped in my hands as I danced and teased my audience. Money appeared on the stage, and I danced for the hands that dropped it.

I turned away from the audience and slid my bottoms down off my ass in front of them. As anxious as I had been before going on stage, taking off my clothes felt liberating. It was my body, and I had nothing to be ashamed of.

Before walking on stage, I had only been comfortable enough with one person to show them my body. That had been Dylan. Dylan was an asshole, and he didn’t deserve the privilege of being the only person who had seen me naked.

I was about to show a room full of strangers my excellent body. I felt ownership over my body and my nudity for the first time in my life. The eyes watching me appreciated what they saw. I could feel the appreciation flowing past the lights.

I had to remind myself to keep dancing while I stripped. It wasn’t just taking off my clothes. I was taking my clothes off and working to mesmerize the men watching. I wasn’t even listening to the music anymore. I didn’t hear it; I felt it. I heard the men whistling and cheering as the new girl showed off her body for the first time.

I bent over just enough to tease them with the prize between my legs as I slipped off my bottoms, but I stood and turned around as they hit the floor. My breasts were no longer covered. My pale skin and pink nipples stood out in the lights.

I ran my hands over my breasts and squeezed them, pulling them up and letting them bounce back into place. More money, more cheers, more love and appreciation. I realized I was baring it all, and I gave myself completely to the movement of the lights and the music.

Before I knew it, the music stopped, and the announcer was coming through the system again. I couldn’t understand exactly what he was saying, but it sounded like he was commending me for a job well done. I grabbed my money and my clothes and swayed my hips as I walked off the stage, back into the dressing room.

“Good job out there tonight,” green eyes said when she saw me.

“Thanks.” I didn’t have a hand to shake or hug with.

“I’m Ariel,” she said, rubbing my arm to let me know she was accepting me.

“It’s good to meet you, Ariel,” I told her. I figured I’d get her real name eventually. Ariel was her stage name. She was up next, and the music started as she stepped through the curtain without any hesitation.

I went back to my chair in the dressing room and changed back into my regular clothes, pocketing my money. One of the things we had discussed that really did feel like special treatment was that Blade was not going to take any cut from my money like he did from the other girls.

My nerves hit me all of a sudden as I finished getting dressed. Suddenly, all the adrenaline of what I had just done hit me. I was in shock. I actually did it! And from what I could tell, I did all right.

I left the dressing room to look for Blade. He wasn’t in his office. I left the back and walked into the main room. The men in the audience were watching Ariel. They didn’t even notice me, fully clothed, as I walked through to the bar.

The bartender came over. “Good job tonight, doll,” she said.

“Thanks.” I reached across and shook her hand.

“Molly.”

“Miss Ginger,” I said, introducing myself the same way Ariel had introduced herself to me, using my stage name. Apparently, that was what people did around here.

She winked. “It’s okay, Lucy. I know your real name already. Looking for Blade?”

“Yeah. Is he around?” I asked, still looking around to see if I could spot him.

“He stepped outside. He’ll be back in any minute. Want a drink?” She picked up a shot glass. “It’s on the house for a job well done.”

“No thanks,” I said, laughing. I didn’t want to do anything else until I had a chance to talk to Blade about my performance.

“If you change your mind, come see me,” she said.

“Thanks.” I started to sit down, but the side door opened. I felt the warm air rush inside immediately.

Blade came in a moment later, emerging from the darkness back into the dim light of the club. He did not look happy, not at all. My stomach sank. I knew my performance sucked and he wasn’t happy with me about it.

“Let’s go to the office,” he said gruffly as he walked past me. I could smell whiskey and cigarette smoke on him.

I looked at Molly to see if she could give me any indication of what might have been wrong, but she shook her head and shrugged. I moved back from the seat and walked behind him. The dread in my stomach grew as we approached the back of the club and the office door.

I went over my performance in my head. I knew it had been my first time, but I didn’t think I could have been that bad. I tried to think about what I could have done wrong or what the other girls could have said to him about my performance.

I couldn’t think of anything.

He threw the door open to his office. It hit the wall with a thud. He walked past his desk but didn’t walk around it. He stood on the other side of it, facing away from me as I walked in. I was in some serious trouble. That much I knew for certain. That was the only thing I knew for sure.

I closed the door carefully behind me as I walked into the room. I was afraid to be in the room alone with him when he was angry. I had no idea what to expect from him, but I was a little scared I was about to see him live up to the stereotypes I believed about guys like him. I stood by the door so it would be easy to get out if I needed to.

“What did I do wrong?” I asked quietly.

Without turning around, he said in a hard, solid voice, “You are not going onstage again.”

Chapter 7

Blade

“What did I do?” Lucy asked me in a hurt tone.

It wasn’t her, but I didn’t know how to tell her that. I didn’t want her going back on that stage because she’d done too well. She had killed it out there. They loved her, but they loved her a bit too much for my taste.

I didn’t want her going back on that stage because I didn’t want to see those hungry eyes staring at her, lusting after her. She was too innocent, too pure for that sort of thing. I’d had no business putting her on that stage to begin with. She needed someone to help her get back on her feet and return to some semblance of normalcy. She didn’t need someone throwing her to the wolves like that.

It was disgusting how they’d stared at her with such perverse desires in their hearts and minds. I could read what they wanted to do to her in their faces. Watching them as they watched her, my protective instincts kicked in. The things I’d said to try to discourage her originally were true, and I didn’t want to see the stage do to her what it did to so many other girls.

“I originally told you no, and I’m going to have to stand by that after seeing you onstage tonight,” I told her, turning around to face her.

“What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

“You just can’t do it. I’m sorry,” I said. The last thing I wanted to do was admit that she was too talented for her own good on the stage. I didn’t want to encourage her in any way to continue or try harder.

“What the hell, Blade? If I did poorly, just tell me. I’ll get one of the other girls to show me what to do,” she snapped.

“No, you won’t. In fact, I’m going to let the girls close up, and I’m taking you home,” I fired back.

“Are you my father now?” she asked.

“No. Unlike your father, I’m not going to throw you out to fend for yourself, Lucy. You’re better than that,” I said. I knew it was a risky move to put her father down like that, but I wanted her to know that part of why I didn’t want her out there was because I was feeling protective. She was my girl, dammit, my prize. I didn’t want anyone else to have her.

She huffed and crossed her arms. She glared at me with resentment in her beautiful blue eyes. The look on her face threatened to melt me, but I refused to budge on the topic. She wasn’t going back out on that stage, and that was final.

“Furthermore,” I said, “you’re sleeping in my bed tonight, with me, as we discussed on the first night.”

She took a slow, deep breath. She’d been keeping odd hours to avoid sharing the bed with me, but that was going to stop. Instead of sleeping with me, she’d been cleaning and cooking for me in an effort to make me forget our agreement.

“Our original plan was that you were going to share my bed at night. You haven’t been upholding your end of the bargain. You’ve got a place to stay, food, and anything else you want or need. I even let you try out stripping and dancing for the night. I need something from you now.”

I had seen her naked on that stage with her hands running all over her body. She had shown herself off, and it made me want her even more than I had before. I was going to take her in my bed as soon as I got her in it. My hands wanted to be on her breasts. My cock ached to be inside her. I wanted to taste her and feel her all around me.

I wanted more than just sex with her, more than her body in my bed. I wanted to please her. I wanted to help her explore her pleasure, to figure out what she liked, what felt good, and what got her off. It was hard to explain what I wanted because I hadn’t wanted more than a piece of ass since my ex had left me.

“Okay,” she said meekly.

“Okay?” I asked.

“Okay, I’ve got it,” she said.

“No, I don’t think you do, Lucy. I’ve been nothing but nice to you, and you’ve been trying to run the show. You’ve been trying to have things your way without thinking about what that means for everyone else. I had no business putting you up on that stage tonight. You should have been at home, far away from all of this.” I took a step toward her.

She stood still, an unreadable look spreading across her face. Was she scared of me? Did she want me like I wanted her? I knew I should have cared, but the hunger for her blowing up in my chest was so powerful that I couldn’t think of anything else. I wanted her. Now.

It turned me on to be telling her what she was going to be doing, to be taking charge again. Ever since I had encountered her crying in the parking lot, I’d been bowing down before her. I even bent the rules to let her keep all of her money after going on stage. That was a surefire way to piss of the other girls, if they ever found out. It was time for me to take control.

“I don’t think you’ve got it at all,” I whispered huskily. I took a step closer. “Listen very closely. We’re going home, and when we get there, I’m going to do what I promised you I’d do a long time ago: I’m going to make you mine.”

Her eyes flared, still undecipherable, but there was a fire in there that I thought maybe, just maybe, I recognized. It didn’t matter. The time for words had passed. I didn’t want to talk to her about it. I just wanted to do it.

She backed up to the door and pressed herself against it. The flash in her eyes made my manhood throb against the dark jeans I wore. It wasn’t that she was afraid of me. It was that I had control over her at that point. I had power. I was putting her in her place and making her subservient before me. She was mine – and she liked it that way.

She trembled. Her breath even shook.

I stopped just in front of her. I reached around her for the doorknob.

“Come on, we’re going home,” I told her as I turned the knob and pulled the door open.

“Okay,” she said, shaking, as she slid around the door and into the hallway, as if touching me might be too much to handle right now.

She knew what we were building between us – the heat, the intensity. She had to know I was going to take everything from her when we got to the house. I was going to enjoy every inch of her delicious, tight body. I was going to have my prize.

She didn’t let me walk with her as we left. She stayed in front of me as we walked through the bar. I stopped to talk to Molly as Lucy walked through the door.

“I’m leaving early. Close up for me,” I said, tapping the bar.

She shook her head and smiled. “Can’t say I didn’t see it coming, Blade. Everyone has seen it coming.”

“Well, be quiet about it. I’m not sure anything’s even going to happen. What you saw onstage tonight isn’t really her. She’s a bit more repressed than that. I’m probably going to have to open her up a bit more before I can get anything out of her.” I tapped the bar and started to walk away to catch up to Lucy.

She was standing outside the door when I walked out. She was looking around the packed parking lot. I stepped up beside her, and she turned to face me. She didn’t have an angry or pouty look on her face anymore. She had a look I hadn’t seen yet, but I knew immediately what it was. I knew what it meant.

She grabbed me by my vest and pulled me against her, planting her lips on mine. Our mouths stayed closed together like that for what felt like an eternity. Her lips were as soft as I imagined clouds would have felt. Then, her lips parted and our tongues met. She rolled her hips against me while our mouths worked against each other.

I put a hand behind her head to hold her in place and a hand on the small of her back to hold her hips against me. She pressed her whole body into me while we kissed. I felt the desire emanating from her body.

I pressed my hips forward, pressing my erection against her. I wanted her to feel my desire as well. I grew harder and harder. I wanted to pull her into the shadows and take her right there against the building, right there where no one could see us.

She pushed me back suddenly, breaking the kiss. “Take me home,” she said.

“Not yet.”

I pulled her back to me and kissed her again. Her grip loosened on my vest, and she melted into me. She stopped resisting her desire and let her body crash into mine. That was when I let go of her. That was when I grabbed her hand and decided it was time to leave.

I pulled her with me through the parking lot toward my car, still reeling from our first kiss. There had been so much pent up passion and desire in the way she kissed me. I was going to take her back to my place and help her set the rest of her desire free.

Judging by the way she danced, I was willing to say Lucy wasn’t a virgin, but judging by the way she carried herself and her modesty, I was willing to say she hadn’t been with many men.

She seemed like she would have been inexperienced in bed, just as she had been onstage. Everything about her turned me on more and more. By taking her away from the prying eyes at the strip club, I was going to make her mine, all mine.

That meant having to find another way to help her, but I didn’t want to think about that at the moment. All I wanted to think about was finally getting her into bed with me and claiming her for myself, at least for a short time.

I did wonder if I would still feel protective over her after we slept together. I hadn’t felt protective over anyone like this in years. It had been so long that it was almost a new feeling all over again.

We got to the car, and I unlocked the passenger side door for her. I held it open and kissed her quickly on her lips before she slid into the seat. I closed the door and walked around to the driver side. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves before getting in the car.

I was leaving The Bounce House in the middle of the busiest night we’d had in a long time. I backed out of the parking space and put the car in drive. I was confident the girls could handle the club as well as I was going to handle the hot little strawberry blonde in the seat next to me.

Chapter 8

Lucy

I was nervous leaving the club with Blade. I was nervous because I wanted him so much, because I thought I would develop feelings after sleeping with him.

I had done that before, with Dylan. To be fair, I had fallen in love with him long before we slept together. There was no comparison between the situation with him and what was happening with Blade. I had been sleeping at odd times for the last few days specifically to avoid sleeping with him because I hadn’t wanted to complicate or confuse the situation between us.

Sex with Blade was just going to be sex. That was all I wanted it to be. There were no misleading emotions going into it this time. There was desire and hunger and we needed each other, physically.

When we got to the house, he took me by the hand and pulled me in through the side entrance. He took me up to his room and closed the door behind us. In the warm light of his room, the hunger he felt for me glowed in his eyes and illuminated his face. He stared at me like a predator with prey in its sights.

“Undress,” he ordered me plainly. He said it like it was nothing, like I should have known to do it as soon as we walked in.

I wore blue jeans and a bulky t-shirt to hide my figure after being on stage. I pulled the shirt off over my head and dropped my jeans to the floor, leaving just my bra and panties. I squeezed my legs together and crossed my arms over my chest to hide myself from him.

He grabbed my wrists and pulled my arms apart, letting them fall at my sides before grabbing my bra straps and pulling them down from my shoulders. “I said undress, Lucy. That means everything,” he said in a calm, commanding voice.

He stood directly in front of me. I could almost feel his dress shirt and jeans pressing against my bare skin. I reached behind my back and unclasped my bra. I shrugged and let it fall to the floor.

Immediately, his hands were on my breasts, squeezing my perky, round flesh. His large, manly hands swallowed my tits whole. His fingers gripped me and pulled me to him. I moaned as he massaged me, squeezing and pinching my nipples just enough to make them hard.

I attempted to push my panties down, getting them just past my hips before giving in to the pleasure coursing through my body from his hands on my tits. I panted and leaned toward him. I put my hands on his massive forearms to hold myself up.

“Unzip my jeans,” he told me.

I did as I was told. I pulled the zipper down and opened his jeans. I could feel his erection trying to press its way out through his boxers. Without being instructed, I reached into his boxer shorts and pulled his long, hard shaft out. He was massive.

I wrapped my fingers around him and stroked him. I knew what he was going to ask me to do next, so I was already getting down on my knees. I wanted to impress Blade. I wanted him to know that even though I was inexperienced by his standards, I wasn’t clueless. I knew my way around the bedroom.

I slid my hand down to his base and held him tightly with my fingers clenching his still-hardening erection. I kissed the tip of his head and let my lips and tongue slide down one side of him, and back up the other. I aimed him up and ran my lips, teeth, and tongue up the ridge underneath his cock.

He moaned and put his hands on the back of my head, guiding me as I reached his head. I parted my lips and took him into my mouth. He filled me instantly, reaching back into my throat. I felt myself trying to gag. I stroked his shaft where my mouth wouldn’t reach. I sucked on him and licked him, coaxing him to get harder.

I felt myself growing wetter as he moaned and gripped the back of my head. I slid my mouth down and sucked him hard as I pulled back up. My muscles throbbed for him. I wanted him inside of me. I knew that long shaft was going to fill me completely and stretch me so I could accommodate it. I couldn’t wait for him to wear me out.

He pulled me back up by my hair. I looked up at his gray eyes. He had a smirk on his face, so satisfied with himself for finally getting me in bed.

He made me feel so free. I found freedom in letting him take charge of me. It was just sex. There were no emotional ties, no strings. There were no games unless we decided to play some with our bodies.

“Get on the bed,” he said in a hard tone. Letting him command me and knowing he wanted my body turned me on to no end. He wanted me for my body. There was no pretending that he wanted anything more than what he did. That was so hot.

As I stood up, he was already out of his vest and shirt. I turned and climbed onto the bed.

“Just like that,” he said as I started to walk across the bed on my hands and knees.

I froze, positioned on my knees in front of him and bent over so he could see everything between my legs.

I heard his belt as he undid it and let his jeans fall to the floor. I was nervous again, facing away from him. He was taking charge and, in my current position, I had no say in what was happening to me.

I jumped when his fingers touched me. He slid them between the wet folds of skin between my legs. I was bare. Dylan like it shaved, and it was one of the things I liked about my body. I loved the way it looked without hair. I loved the way it felt without hair.

His fingers were surprisingly smooth. His hands looked like they’d been through hell, but whenever he touched me, they felt like heaven. He parted my lips and slid two fingers deep inside me. I clenched the white sheets on his bed in my fists.

“Fuck,” I gasped. The word escaped my mouth on its own, but there was no better word for how it felt.

He slid his fingers in and out of me and rubbed my juices on the flesh around my opening. Then he slid his fingertips up front and played with my clit. My thighs quivered with pleasure while he toyed with me.

Then, both hands were on me, spreading me open. I closed my eyes and moaned as he stretched me. Then, his lips touched me, as if he was kissing me. His tongue slid inside me, filling my hole, tasting me.

I pushed my ass back, driving his tongue deeper into me. He sucked on my lips as he pulled his tongue out of me. Then, he let it slide down in front and flicked my little ridge of pleasure. I shook and whined. Ecstasy was building inside of me already, and I hadn’t even had his cock in me yet.

“Take me, baby” I begged him, pushing myself back against him again. “I want you inside of me.

He grabbed my ass and spread me open. I felt him rising above me from behind. He positioned his legs on either side of mine. With two fingers, he opened me as his head pressed against my opening.

I rocked my hips, sliding myself back and forth across the tip of his head, teasing him to make him harder, and teasing myself to make me wetter. I ached to have him inside me. I couldn’t take it anymore.

He was even controlling how I took him and when I took him. It felt like he had complete control over me, and I couldn’t have been happier with that. But I knew I wasn’t going to have him inside me until he was ready.

Chapter 9

Blade

I pulled a condom from my jeans as they fell to the floor. I opened the little foil packet and rolled the rubber down my length. Feeling the ring on the end of it grip me made me harder, ready to enter Lucy.

I had her bent over in front of me, spread open with my fingers. She was so wet, so ready to go. I pressed my head against her opening and waited, letting her squirm beneath me in anticipation. I wanted to relish the moment before I made her mine. I watched her little hands grip and release the sheets. She kept her head down, letting her strawberry blonde curls spill around her head.

I stared at the shape of her thin, petite back. Her body was even more perfect in bed than it had been on stage.

I adjusted myself and looked down to watch her flesh part as I entered her. She moaned loudly as I slid inside her. She was tight already, and her muscles clenched around me as I pushed myself in, slowly at first. I watched her take every inch of me.

She pressed against me, sliding herself down the last inch or so to the base of my shaft. She rocked her hips against me, taking me even deeper into her.

I looked down and watched her move herself against me. She was a natural. She was built for sex. I gripped her hips and started pulling her back and forth along my shaft, controlling the motion, the pace.

“Damn, you feel so good,” I told her. I licked my lips and slammed myself into her. I listened to her whine and moan as I thrust into her and pulled back.

I pushed my hips against her, pushing her forward onto my bed. I pushed her down onto her stomach, putting my weight onto her until I had her beneath me. I grabbed her wrists and pinned her hands down where they were on the bed.

“Yes,” she cried out. Her body shook beneath me, and I smiled, realizing I was taking her to ecstasy pretty quickly.

“You like being controlled?” I asked her.

She turned her head to the side and bit her lower lip, nodding while she cut her innocent blue eyes toward me.

I leaned down and kissed her cheek. I kissed her shoulder and pressed myself hard against her, sliding ever deeper into her ever-tightening opening.

“I’m cumming, Blade,” she whined, pressing her ass up against me. She shook, almost violently, beneath me.

“Do it,” I told her. “Let yourself go, baby.”

I felt her body as she came for me. She tensed up. Her muscles contracted around my shaft, attempting to hold me in place, creating more friction as I slid back and forth, coaxing me along, and getting me closer to my own orgasm.

“Oh God, Blade! Yes, fuck!” she shouted. Her fists clenched the bed sheets again, and she looked straight ahead at the wall. She panted. Her breath rushed.

Feeling that tight little body beneath me, knowing I had pleased her, I felt my own ecstasy building to a crescendo. My cock grew harder inside her, straining against its own skin as my orgasm crept up my shaft.

“Cum for me,” she demanded in her whiny, ravaged voice. “Please, baby, let me have it. Give it all to me.”

I took measured strokes, sliding slowly back and forth, driving deep into her and holding myself inside her before pulling back out. I was painfully close. It felt like I was going to erupt at any moment.

I moved my hands to her arms, gripping her shoulders and holding her still beneath me. I pushed myself deep inside and held myself there for a moment, my body tensing up. And then it happened.

My shaft jerked inside her as I emptied myself. I groaned and started stroking myself with her body again, getting every last drop out.

She moaned and pushed herself back against me.

“Let me have it,” she repeated. “I want it all.”

I felt her gripping me and sliding along my shaft. Once I was finished, empty, I pulled back and slid the condom off. I tossed it into the trash next to the bed and collapsed next to Lucy on the mattress.

She stared at me with a sleepy, satisfied grin on her face. I pushed her curls back to get a better look at her sparkling eyes. She was glowing.

I needed a cigarette, but I wasn’t getting up and leaving her there alone. I didn’t feel like getting dressed, and I certainly didn’t want her to cover her body. The cigarette had to wait.

I ran a hand along the smooth skin of her back, following the curve of her lower back just above her as. She rolled toward me and pressed her back against me, letting out another satisfied moan. She was practically purring.

I wrapped my arm around her waist and she snuggled up against me. Something strange was happening, something very different from normal. Normally, I would have hopped up and thrown my clothes back on. I would have gone outside for that cigarette, and I would have encouraged her to get dressed and to leave. But not with Lucy.

I held Lucy against me, and I didn’t want to let her go. She was mine now. She had already been mine, but I felt the sex made it official, as if I had claimed her by entering her. I didn’t want her to leave.

“You can stay as long as you like,” I said quietly in her ear, stroking her hair with my free hand.

She giggled. “You only say that because you got a piece of tail tonight,” she said.

“No, I mean it,” I told her seriously. “Stay as long as you like. The streets aren’t safe for you, and here, I can keep an eye on you.”

“Well, thank you for the offer, but I’m going to have to do something about money. I do want to get back on my own two feet at some point,” she insisted.

She was so strong-willed, so independent. That was another reason I liked her as much as I did. There was more to her than just sex appeal. She wasn’t just another pretty face, even though she was a gorgeous face.

“You don’t have to worry about getting back on your feet, baby,” I assured her. “I can take care of you.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” She patted my arm. “I’m flattered, really, but let’s talk about this when we didn’t just sleep together.”

I kissed her shoulder. “No, I’ve been thinking about it for a few days now. I’ve really enjoyed having you around, having another body in this house besides just myself.”

For every argument I brought up for it, she had a reply. I stopped short of telling her I was bubbling with feelings I didn’t understand and didn’t want to confront. I wanted to shove them away, to lock them out of sight from her, from myself, from the world. I couldn’t think about them. I wouldn’t.

I had felt protective over her from the start. Those feelings had only intensified over time, leading up to the way I felt when I saw her up on my stage with all those hungry, horny faces just waiting for the chance to get a piece of her.

She was right about one thing, though: the sex had changed how I felt. I felt connected to her now that we’d slept together. I felt like we had bonded. I didn’t want her to go. It went beyond feeling that I had claimed her sexually. It went somewhere deep, somewhere beyond anything I had words to describe, parts of me I thought I had shoved away for good.

“The world is a dangerous place, Lucy,” I said, going back to that approach. “Now that you’re associated with me, it’s liable to get even more dangerous.”

She rolled over to face me and playfully ran her hand up and down my chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“Look at me,” I said, sliding back from her. “What do you think it means?”

She looked at me with a serious expression on her face. She looked up and down, taking me in. I could see her eyes considering my ink, considering my size and the shape I was in. I could see other thoughts running through her mind as she considered my line of work and thought about how much money I had.

“I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t see it,” she said, finally.

“Of course not. Not yet.” I pulled her close to me, stroked her hair, and ran a hand along her back. “I hope you never do,” I told her, holding her close.

The truth was no matter how hard I tried to maintain a straight and clean business, no matter how safe my home was, I was still a known member of The Vicious Thrills MC. That made me a target for many people in the city, from the police to politicians, even members of rival gangs and organizations. To top it off, with my attitude I had made my way onto many people’s shit lists. Hanging around me wasn’t all that safe, and since we had become as close as we had, it was time for me to start looking into security detail for Lucy.

I didn’t want to tell her, but she wasn’t in Kansas anymore. She’d left her safe world of wealth and privilege behind. She had joined us on the streets now. I wanted to make her my old lady, but I didn’t know how to tell her.

She still made me nervous, like a schoolboy. It probably went back to the way we had actually met, not the impromptu dance audition in my office but when I caught her crying in my parking lot. Had it not been for that moment, I probably never would have given her another thought.

“I don’t plan on being out here long, Blade. I plan on getting enough money to get back on me feet and find a job, and then I’m gone,” she explained.

I sighed. “Just do me a favor,” I said.

“Sure, what is it?” she asked.

“Sleep on it, and we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” I ran a hand under chin and lifted her face up to mine.

She looked at me with reluctance in her eyes, and she responded with it in her voice. “Okay, I’ll sleep on it.”

“That’s all I ask,” I told her.

She rolled back over away from me, and I pulled the covers up over us. She was finally in my bed. I finally had her body against mine. We lay there naked together, after waiting for her to join me for so many nights. We fit well together, I thought. Our bodies matched up comfortably side by side in the bed.

I put my arm around her waist again, and she pulled my hand up between her breasts, where she held my hand and arm clutched in both of her hands. She pushed herself against me so my softening member rested between her cheeks. It was only a matter of time before the slightest movement from her worked me up again.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” I whispered to her as I closed my eyes. I breathed in the rich scent of her shampoo. It was soothing and comforting. I squeezed her against me and pressed myself against her even harder.

She moaned. “Goodnight, my dear,” she said. I listened with my eyes closed as her breathing slowed, deepened, and grew more measured.

Eventually, her grip relaxed, and I knew she was drifting off into sleep.

I wasn’t far behind her.

Chapter 10

Lucy

I woke up first, and I woke up sore from the night before. Blade had made me feel like a virgin again, the way he stretched me out like he was my first sexual partner.

I looked at him as I slid out of bed, careful not to wake him. Even his sex had seemed possessive and protective of me, like he had been trying to claim me as his old lady in bed. The sex was amazing, and part of me certainly did want to be claimed. The rest of me, however, knew better. I wasn’t going to fall for anyone else’s love games again, not for a while.

I grabbed my clothes off the floor and dressed as I walked downstairs to the kitchen. I needed something to eat. He kept his kitchen stocked with plenty of food for any occasion, too much for one person to eat alone, especially if that one person took care of their body the way he did. He had a few vices I had noticed, but, for the most part, he seemed to try to stay healthy.

I was going to cook enough for two, but I needed some time alone first, before we sat down to eat breakfast together. I wasn’t pleased with him for pressuring me to stay with him after sex. As much as I appreciated what he was doing for me, I wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone. It hadn’t worked out so well the last time.

I didn’t mind exploring my body with him. I didn’t mind letting him please me or pleasing him. I didn’t know whether to blame my disillusionment from my recent breakup or the high I felt from being onstage and being free with my body, but I really felt empowered by having sex with him and not feeling obligated toward anything else while we were together.

There weren’t supposed to be any strings. I was supposed to be staying with him temporarily and sharing the bed with him only as long as I needed to stay. I had known from the start that he really meant sex when he talked about sharing the bed. At first, I had tried to avoid that aspect of our arrangement, but after dancing and stripping for him, I was ready to try just about anything.

“I smell bacon,” Blade announced groggily as he came downstairs and into the kitchen, wiping sleep out of his eyes.

For the first time, I saw his body in the light. He had put on just his boxers, but I could still see the shape of him swinging behind the fabric as he walked. That would have been a good breakfast, I thought.

His body was a work of art. I saw the muscles in his chest and stomach in the light for the first time. His body was perfectly contoured, and I saw the tattoos he had. He wasn’t covered from his neck to his feet like I expected. He had a tribal piece on one shoulder and a motorcycle engine on the other that had been done up to look like a skull and crossbones with flames coming out around it. I still hadn’t gotten a look at the ones on his forearms. They were some kind of symbols.

I found his coffee and started a pot for us while he sat down at the table, groaning.

“Good morning to you, too,” I said. “Breakfast is almost ready.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast.”

“That sounds amazing.” He sounded oh-so-enthusiastic as he put his head down on the table.

I laughed and stepped into the dining room to kiss him on his cheek. He tried to grab me around the waist to keep me there with him, but I stepped out of reach too quickly. “Nope, I’ve got to finish breakfast,” I taunted him. I laughed as I walked back into the kitchen to pull up the last of the bacon and dump the grease.

After I made the eggs and toast, I brought two plates into the dining room to set on the table. I went back and grabbed a couple of mugs of coffee for us. I remembered he took his black. I added milk and sugar to mine since he didn’t have any creamer.

He was already eating the bacon when I sat down. He sipped his coffee and held the rest of his piece of bacon up to me.

“This is some good bacon,” he said.

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.” I joined him, and we ate in silence for a little while.

He inhaled his food and sat back in his chair. He stretched and took another sip of coffee.

“So, how’d I do last night?” I asked him, trying to keep a chipper tone.

He eyed me over his cup. “Depends,” he said as he lowered it.

“Depends?” I asked.

“Yeah. In bed, you were phenomenal. But if you’re asking about how it went onstage, don’t worry about it, because you’re not going back out. I don’t want you dancing or stripping anymore,” he said with a stern voice.

“I know you didn’t ask, but I had a really good time last night. I really enjoyed it, and I felt like I did well, so I was kind of hoping to get your opinion,” I said. I was getting really tired of feeling like he wanted to take my dad’s place.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said again, flatly.

“Why don’t you want me to go back out? I just don’t get it,” I complained.

“It’s not where someone like you belongs,” he said almost dismissively, like that was supposed to be it, end of discussion.

“You sound like my dad,” I snapped.

“I’m sorry about that, but it’s the truth.” He stared at me with his gray eyes. His stare was a wall, as if he were telling me to drop it and not look for a way around the wall.

“Look, I’m just doing this to make a little cash while I can. I could go somewhere else, but I only have a few months to dance before the baby starts to show.” I stopped on the last word, realizing I’d just let the secret slip.

“I’m sorry, the what?” Blade asked, his eyes wide open in surprise.

“Yeah, so, that’s my big secret,” I said, disgusted with myself for telling him.

“That’s why you and your father got in a fight. And that’s why he kicked you out,” he stated as he put it all together.

I nodded and braced myself for his response. I waited for him to yell at me for not telling him. I waited for him to tell me to leave and not come back. I closed my eyes as fresh tears welled up and threatened to spill down my cheeks.

But he shocked me again. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “That’s just rotten. That’s horrible.” He reached across the table and took my hand. “Your dad’s an asshole,” he added.

I smiled. “Yeah, he is. Thank you.” I didn’t know what exactly to say. I didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. I just wanted to fix it. I wanted to work toward being financially stable enough to support the baby when the time came.

“Now I definitely don’t want you dancing,” he said abruptly.

“What the hell? I was just going to do it as long as I could, until it was no longer healthy for the baby or until the baby started showing,” I tried to convince him.

He shook his head. “Absolutely not. You know, you need somewhere safe to stay while you’re pregnant. You need somewhere that will allow you to have some access to other old ladies who’ve had children and can help you out.”

I sighed I knew what was coming. I knew what she was going to say before he even said it.

“Somewhere like the clubhouse,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. He didn’t miss it, but that was because I didn’t want him to.

“Hey, you’ll be safe there. You’ll have other members of the MC around you at all hours of the day and night. You’ll have the old ladies of the MC to help you with your pregnancy,” he continued.

I sighed. “I didn’t sign up to be part of your MC,” I told him. “I didn’t even ask you to let me stay here. You took it upon yourself to let me take up space in your home. I agreed to it, and I agreed to share your bed, which apparently meant to sleep with you.”

“Hey, you wanted it. You kissed me at the door to the club,” he argued.

“Oh, I definitely wanted it. And I enjoyed it, but I didn’t want all this possessive nonsense that I didn’t realize came along with it,” I told him. “I just needed a roof over my head and the possibility of employment, and you refuse to talk to me about the job. You have this idea that this is more than it is, and you’re not listening to me.”

I slid my plate to the side. Some of my bacon was left, and I hadn’t touched my eggs. I couldn’t eat anymore. I was disgusted by how clingy and needy he’d become just because he’d seen me naked and had sex with me. I was starting to regret everything I had done.

“Look, I’ll work something out for you,” he said hurriedly, trying to fix what he saw as the main problem – my lack of employment.

“It’s fine, Blade. This obviously isn’t working. I knew it was all too good to be true anyway. I should probably just grab my things and move on.” I heard myself for the first time and realized what I was saying. When the hell did I get so cynical?

With my ex, I had been a hopeless romantic. It had even been worse before him, which was probably what led me to hold on to my virginity for so long. Before Dylan, there had never been anyone as sophisticated or educated or just in the know as he was.

What was making things so complicated again was that Blade was very much the same, in his own way. He had his own sophistication, his own brand of education and culture, and he definitely had this finger on the pulse of his world. He knew what was going on. He had to know. He took women in off the street and put them to work. He was a member of an infamous motorcycle club that stayed in trouble with the police. And he managed to keep it all under control because he was strong, physically and mentally.

That was what made him so attractive and so damn irresistible, but it also made him dangerous. The danger was that if I weren’t careful I was going to wind up right back in the same situation that had led me to him in the first place. I couldn’t afford that. My life had experienced a serious setback, and my main focus was to fix that. I didn’t have time for distractions.

“I’m going to go,” I told him. I got up to leave. I walked upstairs to grab my bag from the bedroom.

I didn’t hear him follow, but when I turned to leave his room, he was standing in the doorway, blocking me from leaving his room.

“Don’t go, Lucy. I’ll let you sleep in one of the guestrooms while you’re here, and I won’t mess with you while you’re at the clubhouse. Just stay. Let me help you work everything out,” he pleaded.

“I’m not your responsibility, and neither is the baby,” I told him as I pushed past him into the hallway. I walked back downstairs, heading for the front door. From what I could tell, he didn’t follow. He was just going to let me go.

I stopped at the door. I didn’t know where I was going to go, and it would have been nice if someone had stepped in to stop me. I was being stubborn and proud.

If anyone in my life was man enough to cut me back down to size, it was Blade.

Chapter 11

Blade

A baby.

That certainly explained why her parents had kicked her out and why she was too ashamed to go to anyone else who knew her for help. It also told me just how conservative her family and friends were. But that also told me I was her last option. I was the end of the road for her. There was probably nowhere else to go.

And I was about to let her walk out my door.

I didn’t have room in my life for a child, but I couldn’t let Lucy walk out of it either. I was going to have to find a way to make it work. I didn’t want her going back out on the street. It was not the place for someone like her, especially not while she was pregnant. She needed to be somewhere safe for the baby.

She was right. Neither one of them was my responsibility, but I was going to make both of them my responsibility. I wasn’t going to take her in just to let her throw herself back out. I started down the stairs, hoping I could catch her before she left.

“Hold on,” I called to her as she opened the front door.

She stopped, but she didn’t turn around. Instead her posture stiffened as if she were trying to brace herself against what she knew I was about to say. I was amazed at how insightful she was.

“Lucy, look, stay here. Just one more day. Give me today. I’m going to see what I can do. If I can’t get you work so you can start getting back on your feet, you can leave all you want. You can go wherever. But someone needs to be helping you look after that baby, and I have some connections that might be able to get you gainful employment. Give me a chance. Let me look for you,” I pleaded with her.

She drove me crazy. When it came to her, I was a mess. There was no putting my foot down with her. There were only suggestions and questions. When I tried to put my foot down, I simply stammered.

She gave me a look that said she was over it. She was through with my tricks.

“Look, if it doesn’t work, I will let you go,” I told her.

“Fair enough.” She dropped her backpack next to the front door. “But, if you don’t have anything by tonight, I’m sleeping on the couch and leaving in the morning.”

“That’s fine.” I grabbed her and kissed her, planted one right on her lips. “If I can’t pull this off, you can do whatever you want.”

“I’m going to do that anyway,” she advised me. “In speaking of which, I’m going to clean up from breakfast now.” She walked into the kitchen and started washing and putting up dishes.

I hurried upstairs and got dressed. I knew exactly who to call to find her a job, but I wasn’t going to do it in the house where she could hear me. When I left, she was putting up the last of the dishes and cleaning the counter where she’d worked to prepare breakfast. I didn’t say anything as I left the house. I didn’t want to upset her or potentially start another fight by saying the wrong thing.

I hoped in the car and drove up to the club. I didn’t mind making personal calls like I was going to be making all day from the office at The Bounce House, but I didn’t like making calls like these from home.

No one else was at the club yet. It was too early in the day. We didn’t open until the afternoon. I unlocked the door and walked into the quiet building alone, locking the door behind me. I flipped on a couple of lights so I could see to get to the office. Then, I sat down, grabbed the office phone, and dialed up my brother, Robby.

“Blade,” he said excitedly when he picked up the phone. “Man, it’s a surprise to hear your voice this early in the morning.”

“Tell me about it, Robby. It’s not even noon yet,” I groaned. I had stopped by the gas station on the way in to pick up a cup of coffee, and I sipped on it to stay awake.

“So, what gets you out of bed this early?” he asked. He was a businessman. He owned his own construction company. I was surprised he’d been able to come to the phone. Usually by this time of day, he was out on a job site somewhere, unable to reach it in time.

“I need your help,” I told him.

“What kind of help, Blade?” he asked cautiously. “Digging-a-hole help or some other kind?”

We both laughed. He was always talking about helping me dispose of people who crossed me. But that never seemed to be the reason why I was calling.

“I’ve got a young girl here who needs a job,” I told him.

“So put her to work, man. You can always use more talent.”

“Not her. She doesn’t belong on the stage,” I told him.

“Whoa, what do you mean? Is she ugly or something?” he asked joking.

“No, she’s just too good for places like this. She needs a better job than I can offer her,” I said.

“Too good for The Bounce House, where the women are a cut above the rest?” Robby teased.

“Look, can you help me or not?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a few office positions that are open. I can probably squeeze her into one of them,” he finally said.

“Thank you so much. I’ll send her around your way soon,” I told him.

“So, tell me about her,” Robby said. “Let me know what I should expect when she comes around.”

I told my brother about Lucy. I told him a little about her predicament and why she was in need of a job. He asked me why she wasn’t fit for the strip club, because everyone was fit for the strip club if they knew how to dance. I admitted to him that she could definitely dance and she nailed it the one time I let her take the stage, but I also had to admit why I didn’t want her on the stage. I told him about the baby, making her pregnancy the main reason I didn’t want her dancing.

“It’s not yours, right? Man, I know how you are with these young girls,” Robby joked.

“No, definitely not mine. She was pregnant when she came to me. That’s why her folks kicked her out, man. Look, I can’t just turn her away,” I told him.

“Oh, I get it. You’ve got feelings for this one.”

This one, like she was just another girl in a long line of girls, like there were going to be girls after her. He said it like she was just another piece of ass. Sure, since my divorce, there had been plenty of pieces of ass, but she wasn’t another. She wasn’t just this one, but I was going to leave it alone. If I said what I was thinking, it was going to sound like a lot more than it really was, and Robby would have had a field day with it.

“You’re really serious about this girl,” Robby said, laughing, reading my silence like an open book.

“Look, man, just see what you can do for her, all right?” I said.

“Yeah, I’ll do what I can. Bring her by the office. Is she staying at your place?” he asked.

“For now. I’m trying to get her to stay at the clubhouse so she’s not alone as much. Plus, you know, if there’s any trouble, I don’t want her at home alone when stuff goes down,” I told him.

“Yeah, I gotcha. That would really be the best thing, especially if she’s pregnant. She needs people around who can take care of her,” he said, echoing exactly what I’d told her.

I shook my head and laughed. Sometimes I wondered if we weren’t the same person living two different lives. It was uncanny how much we thought alike. We finished up and hung up the phone. I left a note on my door to let Molly know I wasn’t going to be in all night. I told her to call me if she needed me. She knew the drill. She was my lifesaver, really. I trusted her to run the place for me whenever there was other business – personal or professional – for me to handle.

I left the office and went home to my reluctant house guest. I hoped my good news was going to sway her in the right direction and make her trust me a little more. I was a hard-ass. It was just who I had to be most of the time. But the things she’d said that morning made me question myself.

Was I doing the right thing by trying to help her? Or was I wasting my time with someone who was allowing her life to make her cold and cynical? She definitely seemed to be leaning that direction. I hoped some good news would turn her around.

“Hey, babe!” I called out to her when I walked into the house. I didn’t get a response, but then I saw her sitting on the patio by the pool.

I opened the glass door and stepped outside. I walked around to where she sat in the lounge chair and was surprised to see her sitting there naked. I was speechless. The reserved little girl who had come into my office was sitting on my patio naked, baring all to the sky and the sun.

Her body was even more gorgeous in the light. All her curves and proportions were perfect. Her skin was beautifully fair, but probably not for long if she stayed in the sun too long.

“Oh hey,” she said when she saw me walk up, grabbing for her towel out of habit. She covered herself and blushed. I couldn’t tell if she was blushing because I’d walked in on her naked or because she’d reacted in her old, bashful manner.

“I’ve got good news,” I told her.

“What kind of news?” she asked, shooting me a suspicious look.

“My brother might have a job for you in his office. He runs a construction company and always needs help around the office. He said to bring you by this afternoon,” I told her.

“Really?” She sat up on her elbows and looked at me, a smile spreading across her face, despite the way she’d been acting earlier in the day.

“Really. You’ll just be doing office work,” I told her.

“Is he a member of the MC, too?” she asked me slowly, cautiously, feeling out the question as she said it.

“Yes, he is a member like I am,” I told her. “Is that going to be a problem?”

She sighed. “I guess it can’t be. I’ve just got to get used to that being part of my life for as long as I’m around you guys, huh?”

“Yes. That’s who and what we are, Lucy. Don’t worry. It means you’re safe, no matter what happens, no matter who gets pissed off at any of us for any reason,” I assured her.

“Well, I don’t like the way that sounds.” She raised an eyebrow.

“It means you’re okay. And if you go to stay at the clubhouse on the outskirts of town, you’ll have people there to help you as your pregnancy moves along,” I told her yet again.

“I know, but it just seems like so much. I mean, when will I get to see you?” she asked me.

“You can stay here every night. I still want you in my bed.”

“You still want to fuck me.” That eyebrow was up again.

I laughed, and I felt like I was blushing. What the hell was this woman doing to me? Devin “Blade” Shaw did not blush. It just didn’t happen.

“It sounds too complicated, Blade,” she said. “I’d rather just stay here.”

“We’ll make it work, baby,” I assured her.

She sighed again and shook her head. “Thank you, Blade.” She got up and kissed me slowly, tenderly. She let her towel fall as she raised her arms to wrap them around my neck.

I put my hands on her smooth back and held her to me while we kissed by my pool. I felt like things were starting to move along nicely.

Chapter 12

Lucy

Since everything I had still fit in my backpack, Blade drove me over to the Vicious Thrills’ clubhouse on the back of his Harley. I had never ridden on a motorcycle before, and I didn’t know much about them beyond the fact that they were loud and most of the guys who rode them were roughnecks like Blade and the rest of the Vicious Thrills. It was quite an experience.

With my pack slung over my shoulders and my arms around his waist, we left his house and drove just out of town to the warehouse. As we pulled in, the doors went up, and several guys stepped outside to greet us. One of them had long straight brown hair held back by a black bandana. The other had short salt-and-pepper curls and ratty face hair. Both men wore black leather vests similar to Blade’s with white t-shirts underneath, worn jeans, and old black boots.

Blade pulled the bike into one of the bays, and the guys followed behind us, rolling the large doors back down. We got off the bike, and Blade embraced his club mates one at a time. It was like watching a family reunion.

“So, is this the girl?” the older of the two asked, eyeing me suspiciously. I was obviously under scrutiny, and he’d obviously been expecting me.

“Yeah, Brick, this is Lucy.” Blade stepped over to me and put a protective arm across my shoulders, for which I was incredibly thankful.

“Well, introduce us, bro,” the long-haired younger member demanded.

“Lucy, these are my brothers Brick, our president, and his son, Hatchet, our VP,” Blade said, pointing first to the older gentleman and then to the younger one.

As Brick took my hand, he flashed a knowing smile. Reading the look on my face, he assured me, “We’re not really brothers, Lucy. That’s just what we call each other.”

I laughed nervously. “I knew that.”

“Sure you did,” Hatchet joked, keeping an eye on me from a distance. Brick glanced back at him and he walked away, looking like he suddenly realized there was something else he was supposed to be doing.

“We have a room ready for you upstairs,” the president said, tossing the room key to Blade.

“It has its own lock?” I asked, watching the key soar to Blade’s hands. The question came out as a reflex. I realized how rude it must have sounded as soon as I said it.

“Of course. We want you to have some privacy if you’re staying here. Every room has its own lock, but I have a master key that can open every door in the clubhouse,” he answered. Then, he quickly added with a wink, “Don’t worry. I’m the only one who has it. It’s good have you aboard, Lucy. If you need anything, someone’s always down here.”

The rest of the first floor contained an office with a boardroom for meetings and official club business, as well as a large gathering area with pool tables, dart boards, a large flat screen TV, and black leather couches for sitting. But Blade whisked me upstairs to where the private rooms were. It felt like we were in a hotel. We walked onto a hallway lined with doors on both sides. Each door was closed and had a number on it with a peep hole and everything.

“You’ll have your own bathroom and closet,” Blade explained as we walked down the hallway. “But, there’s just the one small kitchen downstairs. There’s always someone here grilling out back or cooking for everyone in the kitchen, so you don’t have to worry about food.”

It was all happening so quickly. Everything had been happening quickly since I found out about the baby. I felt like I didn’t have any say in anything that happened to me. Surely, anyone would have said I was free to opt out of being given a place to stay for free where people were going to be looking out for me.

I didn’t feel free, though. Those weren’t real decisions because I wasn’t in a position to turn anything down. I should have been more grateful. I should have had gratitude and love gushing out of me, but I still had pride, and it ate at me, keeping me from properly appreciating everything Blade was doing for me.

I wasn’t going to be living on the street, fighting for a little food. But I wasn’t providing food and shelter for myself. And, to top it off, the people who were providing it for me were bikers. They were rough men whose hard lives were written in the ink across their skin and the scars on their faces. I had no business being in their company.

“So, tell me a little about the guys downstairs,” I said to Blade before he left me alone in my room. I was incredibly nervous to be left alone with more men like him. There were no women around to protect me from their stares, or worse.

“Brick has been the president of the MC since day one. He started the Vicious Thrills. He’s all right. You don’t have to worry about him. His son, Hatchet, is the VP because our original vice president was murdered in prison,” he explained.

“In prison, Blade?” I exclaimed. “What the hell do you have me mixed up in?”

“It was just some trumped up conspiracy charges from a fight we were involved in with a politician’s kid at a bar. In reality, it was just a bunch of drunks running their mouths, and our old VP slammed a bottle into the punk’s face. He should have maybe spent a night in the drunk tank, maybe an assault charge or something simple like that,” he continued, making it worse.

“Something simple, yeah,” I said, mocking him.

“Hey, you’re fine. They’re going to treat you like one of us. Robby will be by in the morning to pick you up for work, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow night after your first day. Look, if anything comes up, give me a call on this.” He produced a small cell phone from inside his vest.

“What’s this?” I asked. I knew it was a cell phone, but I wanted to know if there were any strings attached before I accepted it.

“It’s a burner phone,” he said. “You know what that is, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” I had watched all those crime dramas on TV. I knew what burner phones were, and it didn’t surprise me that Blade would have handed me an untraceable prepaid cell phone instead of a legitimate phone on a legitimate plan.

I tapped the button on the side of the phone, and the screen came up. I was surprised to see it had more functions than just calls and texts.

“It’s got all of the important club numbers programmed into it, in case you need any of us,” he explained.

I tapped on the contacts icon, and it pulled up a list of street names like Hatchet and Blade. I scrolled down and found Brick. Robby was in there, too, but there were also a bunch of names I didn’t recognize. I was sure I was going to meet them soon enough.

“Why doesn’t Robby have a name in here like you and the others?” I asked him.

“His real name is Robert. We call him Robby because he really stays out of trouble. You’ll see when you meet him. He’s kind of everyone’s big brother,” he said, dismissing the topic, as if talking about Robby’s name made him uncomfortable.

“So he’s not really your brother either,” I said.

He laughed. “We’re all brothers, Lucy, but don’t worry. You’ll meet my two younger brothers, who are actually my brothers by blood, soon enough if you’re hanging around here.”

I shook my head. “Okay, so I just have to accept all of this. And the old ladies? Where are they?”

“I’m surprised no one’s here. Usually, there are two or three old ladies hanging around the clubhouse at all times. I’m sure someone will show up before the day is over. And they’ll be anxious to meet you, so be available.” He put a gentle hand on my face and looked at me with his gray eyes. “Just keep an open mind, okay? You seem pretty open as it is. I know it’s a lot right now. You come from a very different world, but everyone here has your back. Remember that. I’ve got to go up to the office for a while.”

We hugged and said our goodbyes. He handed me the key to the room and left, closing the door to leave me alone in my new, albeit temporary, home. I sat down on the full-sized mattress and looked around the room. There was an old window with four glass panes staring out onto the parking lot surrounding the building. I had a dresser with a mirror, a small TV stand with a small flat screen TV on top. The floor was hardwood, old and dirty. The bathroom was small with sterile white tile. It looked like a gas station restroom. There was one small round window over the tub that let in an impossible amount of natural light.

I have to find a way out of this, I told myself. I couldn’t deal with another man controlling my life. I didn’t think Blade was really trying to control me, but he had control over me either way. He was controlling where I slept, where I worked, what I did. Even with the new phone, even though it gave me the ability to connect with the world outside the clubhouse, it felt like I was expected only to contact him or his “brothers,” and only when necessary.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that no matter what, it was better than the alternative. I had to learn how to accept help and how to accept my new place in the world.

I spent most of the afternoon in the room, until a light knock came at the door. It was Brick’s old lady, Carla. She had wiry black hair pulled back in a ponytail and skin that had seen too much sun over the years and maintained an almost burnt tan all year. She wore a black leather vest that had a patch for her name and the Vicious Thrills logo on the back. Under it, she wore a black bikini top and nothing else. She wore leather pants and black leather boots.

She had a hard look on her face when she opened the door and introduced herself. Her voice had an edge to it, as if to say no matter how nice she was, she was never far from flipping it over and being a total bitch if she needed to be.

I honestly felt safer having a woman as hard as the men around, but I didn’t know how to tell her that. It was one of those things I didn’t want to admit out loud because I knew it would reveal how new I was to everything and how weak I was.

“Hey, have you eaten?” she’d asked abruptly before even making introductions.

“No, not yet. Why?” I asked.

“Dinner’s ready. Brick and Hatchet grilled some steaks. They made enough for you, too. Come on.” She’d walked away and left the door open for me to follow.

Once I caught up to her, she told me who she was and that she was glad I was there. She said they’d picked up some other drinks since I was pregnant and didn’t need to be drinking with everyone.

When I walked downstairs with Carla, I realized more people had shown up. A lot more. The place was practically packed, and they were all eating. It felt like a family gathering, like any summer barbecue would have felt. I was beginning to realize why Blade called all the guys in the club his brothers. They treated each other like brothers.

I was shocked by how communal it all was. And, despite myself, I felt welcomed by every person Carla introduced me to. These people who looked fierce and mean to the outside world were warm and caring toward each other on the inside.

I was lucky to have found Blade.

Chapter 13

Blade

“Blade, we might have a problem.” It was Hatchet, and I could tell he was trying to keep anyone else from hearing what he had to tell me.

“What’s going on?” I asked. I got up and stepped into the hallway in front of my office to see if anyone was in earshot of the conversation. Then, I ducked back in and closed the door.

“I just got a call from one of our guys on the street, who said there’s an older guy going around flashing a photo of someone who matches Lucy’s description. He’s asking where she is,” Hatchet told me.

“What did he tell her old man?” I asked him.

“He said he told him he hadn’t seen her and to get lost.” He chuckled.

“Good. We don’t need him sniffing around. Her father is bad news, Hatchet.” Having him sniffing around was bad news, indeed. We didn’t need the extra attention, especially not from someone with as much power as Bryan Smithfield was supposed to have. It was only a matter of time before he followed the trail of girls to the strip club and started asking questions.

“You don’t have to tell me, Blade. Make sure your girls know what to say if he shows up there.”

“Got it.” I hated that Brick’s punk ass kid had more power in the MC than some of us who’d been riding for the Thrills longer than he’d been alive. I tried to hide my resentment when I talked to him, but it didn’t always work out.

“I’ll let everyone know to be on the lookout. If he gets too close, though, you know what will happen,” he said.

I laughed. “Why are you telling me? You know how I feel about all that. He kicked her out of the house, man. He cut her off from her money, cut her phone, everything. He’s how she ended up here. Man, this isn’t her life, Hatchet, but it’s all she’s got. We can’t have him snooping around trying to take even this from her.”

“Well, don’t worry about it, Blade. He won’t find her, not if I have anything to do with it.”

“Thanks. Keep me in the loop on it, though. If he comes around, I want to know,” I told him. I had a habit of talking to Hatchet like I was above him. I should have been. When Nomad got taken out in prison, everyone thought I was going to be Brick’s pick for VP. Even Hatchet had been shocked when I wasn’t.

We had an understanding. He had authority over me, but he always tried to treat me with as much respect as possible. I was supposed to be in his place.

“You got it, boss,” he said, joking with me to let me know I was starting to step over the line a little.

I honestly didn’t care. When it came to Lucy, I was the boss. I wasn’t going to accept any less than the utmost respect as it pertained to her.

“Just make sure you don’t say anything to her about it, okay? I don’t want her to know he’s looking for her yet. She’s been through enough, man,” I said before we finished up our call.

“Yeah, I understand. Don’t worry. She doesn’t have to know anything. I’ll make sure everything comes to you,” Hatchet told me.

“Thanks, brother.”

We hung up to the phone, and I stared at the wall for a few minutes, wondering what to do about Lucy’s father. As far as I was concerned, he’d given up his right to check on her. She was an adult, and he’d run her off. He had no business coming after her.

I needed to figure out what to do about him before he got himself hurt getting too close. It was only a matter of time before he asked the wrong one or ended up at the club.

This was her new life. She didn’t need her old life trying to creep in on her. She needed to be surrounded by people who were going to look after her and take care of her, especially with the baby coming. I was glad she was at the clubhouse, where she was safe.

If I could have stayed away from the strip club completely, I would have devoted all of my time to making sure Lucy was settling in all right at the clubhouse. Fortunately, she was going to have just about everyone there. Brick had assured me that he was going to throw her a kind of welcoming party so he and Carla could introduce her to everyone for me. I hated that I wasn’t there for her, but I knew she could handle herself. As independent as she was, it really would have been insulting if I had insisted on standing over her the whole time. I didn’t want to do that to her.

Still, despite knowing she was perfectly safe under the watch of the MC, I couldn’t stop worrying about her. She was an incredibly strong-willed young woman, and she was having to put up with a lot. Her world was being turned completely upside down. I just hoped I could help her keep some dignity through it all. I couldn’t believe she had even considered dancing for me. There were people out there who could put her to work, like Robby. They just didn’t exist in the world where she was from. They flew below her radar, which put them below her father’s radar, too. Thankfully.

Meanwhile, I sat in my office, listening to the music thump through the walls while one of the new girls took to the stage. She went by Ruby, and she’d been blowing the guys away so far. She had platinum blonde hair and large natural breasts with a small waist and a perfect, round ass. She looked like any number of blondes in porno magazines, but the customers ate her up. She was quickly moving to headlining status, which was going to be good for Ariel. It meant I was going to be able to give her some time off every once in a while.

I decided I wasn’t going to say anything to Lucy when I talked to her. I was going to keep the news of her father quiet for a while, until we had a plan, or until I was sure he wasn’t going to be a bigger problem.

Out of paranoia, I walked out to the main room of the club to keep an eye on things with Molly. We had the place packed out with Ruby and Ariel both performing. Ruby had been one of the girls I didn’t want to hire, so I’d lucked out there.

“Hey, got a second?” I asked Molly when I stepped up to the bar.

She held up a finger and checked along the bar to make sure everyone was okay. She signaled to one of the other girls to watch the bar, and then she stepped away with me. She could already tell we needed to talk.

We stepped outside where I could get a good look at the parking lot. I could feel trouble coming.

“What’s up?” she asked in her razor sharp voice. She always sounded like she was ready to kick somebody’s ass. With Molly around, it wasn’t often that I needed a bouncer.

“Has anyone come around asking about Lucy?” I asked.

“Oh, someone’s looking for her? Damn, you really are robbing the cradle with that one, aren’t you?” she teased.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I guess so. Unfortunately, that tree rocked and he cradle came tumbling down.”

“Oh shit.” I could tell from the shift in her tone that she got what I was trying to tell her. “So, her folks are trying to take her home now?” she asked.

“Her father is snooping around. He’s asked at least one of the guys on the street if he’d seen her,” I told her.

“Everyone knows to keep their mouth shut, right?”

I laughed again. Molly sounded like she was ready to handle someone for snitching. She wasn’t a member of the MC, and she’d never been anyone’s old lady, but if we ever opened it up to women, she would have been the first one brought in. She’d proven herself for us time and time again over the years. They didn’t make people more loyal than Molly.

“Yeah, and I told them to run anything they find through me. So means you might get some calls when I’m not around if anything comes up,” I warned her.

“Okay, before everyone goes home, I’ll make sure no one has seen her,” she assured me.

“And if anyone has?” I asked, because I loved to hear her talk shit.

“Oh, no one has. Trust me.” Her voice was as solid and hard as the pavement beneath our feet. What most people didn’t realize was that her fists were just as hard.

I glanced out at the parking lot again, looking for any indication that something was off. “Just keep an eye out for me,” I said absently. “Something’s coming. I’m getting a feeling in my gut. This man is going to end up causing some serious trouble.”

“Nah, you’re just paranoid, Blade. You need a drink. Come on, let Molly take care of you,” she said as she put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me back inside.

As soon as we opened the door, the steady rhythm of the music hit me. There was so much going on. I had new girls on the stage, cops keeping an even closer eye on me than normal because of those idiots trying to run their own business in my establishment. I was falling for this young, innocent girl. And her dad was looking for her. He was powerful, too.

It wasn’t like the others, when some drunk from the trailer park on the south side showed up with rot gut whiskey or shine on his breath. Usually one good beat down took care of them. No, Mr. Smithfield was a force of nature. He controlled a lot of the city. His reach didn’t quite make it to where we were, but he had enough influence to give me a migraine if he caught wind that she was with me.

“Hey, Molly, remember how we used to give the police free draft beer?” I asked as she slid a glass of whiskey to me.

“Yeah, I remember those days. You thinking we need to go back to that?” she asked.

“Yeah, off duty, on duty, whatever. You see law enforcement, let them know they get drafts. That goes for pitchers, too,” I told her, tapping the bar.

“Whatever you think will help.” She was amused. She had that smile that she got when she thought I was making a mistake. Maybe I was, but it was hard to be too careful with so many people snooping around.

“I think we could use all the help we can get,” I told her, knocking back the whiskey in one gulp, like it was a shot. I winced as it burned all the way down. Straight whiskey with no ice was good for burning off stress and most ailments. When I opened my eyes back up, I felt like I could see for the first time in days. I looked around the room again.

I noticed a couple of plain clothes officers sitting at a table near the stage with untouched beers. They just looked like cops. They were probably on duty. That probably explained the untouched drinks.

“Molly, see those two cops up front with the full beers?” I asked her.

She stopped wiping the bar down and looked. “Yeah, they’ve been sitting there for a while,” she said.

“Take them a couple of glasses of ice water so it looks like vodka on the rocks. Take those beers back and don’t charge them. Those bottles are a dead give-away. If they have ice water in rocks glasses, they can at least look like they’re drinking,” I told her.

She laughed. “Rookies.”

I watched as she prepared the glasses and took them over to the table. I could see her explaining to the men that it was water instead of vodka. They sipped their glasses and thanked her as she picked up the bottles and started back to the bar.

The cops looked over to me and raised their glasses. I nodded. I hated having them in the bar, but I needed to keep them happier than anyone else in there. Happy cops seemed to ask fewer questions.

Chapter 14

Lucy

“You ready for work?” Robby was intimidating, even in his work clothes. He was a wide, tall man with a full, dark beard and short wavy black hair that he kept mostly pushed back. He wore a long sleeve work shirt – to cover his tattoos, I assumed, since everyone seemed to have so many – and khaki work pants, along with work boots. He looked out of place in his work clothes, but I was starting to see why he didn’t need a street name like everyone else had. He didn’t need it.

“I guess so,” I told him, trying not to be intimidated by him. In the world where I found myself – the world of biker clubs and strippers – he fit in just fine. He was a little bigger than everyone else I had met so far, and that was all.

“Come on, then.” He tilted his head for me to follow as he walked around his work truck and opened the door to let me in. They had all been gentlemen so far, something else I wasn’t completely used to. Each of the Vicious Thrills seemed to treat women with the highest respect.

I sat quietly as Robby climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled up before putting the truck in gear and pulling away from the clubhouse. I was on my own, it seemed, among Blade’s people. I hadn’t spoken to him since he dropped me off, and I had stayed in my room alone overnight, despite what he’d said about making it work so I could stay in his bed every night even when I was “staying” at the clubhouse.

“So you’re Blade’s new old lady, huh?” Robby barked on the way to his office.

“I wouldn’t take it that far,” I told him.

“Oh, that’s right. He’s just watching out for you.” I could tell from his voice that he wasn’t buying the story.

“Well, now it looks like he’s got everybody watching out for me, doesn’t it?” I asked, laughing nervously.

“Yeah, I guess so. Hey, do you want some breakfast? I like grabbing a little something to eat before work, something fast.”

“Sure.” I was along for the ride. I wasn’t going to turn down free food, not when the sun and I were competing to see who was up first.

We stopped at a drive-thru and grabbed a couple of sausage biscuits and coffees. He ate in the truck on the way to his office. I’d had a few summer jobs over the years, mostly little retail deals, but nothing that felt so comfortable or informal. It felt like I was just going to be spending the day with a cousin or uncle, not with an employer. It was very relaxed.

I expected things to change once we got to the office. I expected Robby to introduce me to everyone and then crack down on me, but he didn’t. His office was a small work trailer, the kind that normally popped up on temporary job sites and disappeared afterwards. It sat in the middle of a plot of land surrounded by a tall chain link fence, where his company kept the equipment that wasn’t in use.

Once inside there were several desks along the walls of the trailer. It wasn’t a very big space, but there was enough room to walk around between everyone. The desks were either covered in scattered paperwork or piled high with organized files. I figured it depended on who worked where. There were three other women in the office, all dressed in jeans and blouses. It was a very business casual atmosphere.

There was even a small radio on the ledge of one of the windows, playing music from the light rock, adult contemporary radio station. I wanted to ask him if my coworkers were other old ladies from the MC, but I got the distinct feeling they weren’t. They didn’t look like any of the women I had met at the clubhouse cookout the night before. Besides, I figured he would have told me if they were.

For some reason, it made me uncomfortable that they might have been from the outside. I had just started coming to terms with the fact I was part of an elite group of people, and I was being thrust back among people I couldn’t share that knowledge with.

It also seemed odd to me that Blade and Robby both owned and ran businesses that weren’t actually associated with the Vicious Thrills, outside of their membership in the club. Something about that didn’t ring true to me. I knew nothing should have seemed shocking at that point, so I put the questions out of my head and let him introduce me to the other women who worked in the office for him.

There was Amelia, who had curly sandy blonde hair and the cutest green eyes; Hannah, with straight red hair and brown, puppy dog eyes; and Kelly, with jet black hair and eyes as blue as the sky. Despite their natural beauty, they all looked very studious and reserved. Something about the expressions on their faces gave off an air of experience and knowledge, like they’d been working for Robby for years.

“Lucy is going to be working with us for a while, so please make her feel at home. I’ve pulled her in as a customer service specialist,” he said to the others, letting me know for the first time what my job was actually going to be. I figured I was going to be another secretary. Having four women running his office made it seem like his company was very busy.

He led me to the back where his private office was. We went past the break room, which was across from the office restroom. The office was laid out like a camper or RV, except smaller. He closed the door to his office and gestured for me to sit down in the chair in front of his desk.

“All right, I haven’t told you what you’re going to be doing yet,” he said with a sigh as he took the chair behind his desk. It was the most professional his voice had sounded all day so far. He started to roll up his sleeves.

“I figured I would just be filing paperwork or something secretarial like that,” I suggested with a shrug.

“If you’re willing to get up and dance for Blade for a living, you can talk on the phone for me. Sometimes, people call in with questions or complaints, or whatever they call about, and I need someone to take those calls. My company operates at three separate locations. I have three teams out there, and that’s why there are three people in there. Each one handles work orders, invoices, schedules, whatever for their team. Taking calls on top of what they do is just too much. However, there aren’t so many calls that I need three people on the phone. So, I’m going to see if it will help to have someone in here answering the phones for them,” he explained.

“What happens if I can’t answer their questions?” I asked.

“Then just find out who is handling that team and send the call over to her. No big deal. That way, they’re only on the phone if they need to be,” he answered.

I nodded, as the picture started becoming clear to me.

“Don’t worry about it. Like any other job, the first day is scary, and by the time you clock out, you start to get the hang of it,” he said lightly.

“Right.” I didn’t know what to say, but it felt like he was expecting something else from me.

He sat back and stared at me like he was waiting on me to ask him questions or something. “So tell me, what do you think of all this?” he asked all of a sudden.

“What do you mean?” I responded, unsure if he was asking how I felt about the job, or the MC, or even the situation I was in with Blade.

“This whole new world, man. Blade told me about your situation and the falling out with your father. Man, I’m sorry to hear about that, but it happens.” He was reaching out to me, just like everyone seemed to do when they met me.

“It’s definitely different. One thing gets me, though,” I mused.

“What’s that?” A smile spread across his face. He looked pleased to get the opportunity to explain something to me.

“The names. I know Blade, Brick, and Hatchet, and I know those are just street names. What about Robby? Why don’t you have a name like theirs?” I asked.

He laughed. “I guess they never came up with anything. I haven’t done anything to get a name.”

“You have to do something to get a name?” I felt a little chill. I remembered then that Blade had said the same thing to me. He’d told me that Robby always stayed out of trouble and hadn’t earned a name from the rest of them.

“Pretty much. I mean, Hatchet has an extensive ax collection and isn’t afraid to bring one out in a fight. I don’t know if he’s ever used one or anything, but he always has at least one near him. Blade didn’t tell you his?” he asked.

“No, he’s never really mentioned it. Has he done anything bad?” I wondered aloud.

“Oh, we’ve all got our stories, Lucy. I think that’s something you should talk to him about,” Robby told me.

I started to think that maybe he’d cut someone up pretty bad and that was how he got his name. But I knew there had to be another reason. These men have reputations to uphold, I reminded myself. There were bound to be stories that were nothing more than just stories to make them seem big and bad even when they weren’t.

“Hey, don’t start thinking anything. He’s definitely the person you think he is. He doesn’t hide behind anything. He’s about straightforward as they come, okay? Have you met his brothers yet?” Robby was trying to distract me. I wondered why he kept me talking instead of letting me get to work, but I was glad I was starting to get answers for some of the things that were bugging me.

“I thought you were all brothers,” I said, smirking.

“We are, but he has two younger brothers, actual brothers, named Hammer and Sketch. You’ll meet them soon enough. Hammer used to work for me, but they should have named him Loose Screw. I taught him what I could, but then I had to let him go. He just doesn’t work well underneath people, you know?”

“What about Sketch?” I asked. That was a peculiar name.

“Sketch is a tattoo artist. How much do you really know about Blade?” he asked abruptly.

“We’ve only known each other for a little while. It’s been kind of a whirlwind with me trying to get settled and him trying to help me,” I admitted.

“Well, don’t worry. You’ll learn your way around us. I guess I should go ahead and put you to work,” he said, getting up from his desk.

I felt like our conversation was ending prematurely. It seemed like he had more that he wanted to tell me, but we’d reached a point where he realized he needed to be quiet. I agreed. There were more questions after talking to him. I wanted to ask him if he could introduce me to everyone I hadn’t met so far, like Blade’s actual brothers. I also wanted to know the story behind Blade’s name. Who did he have to cut to get the name? Did it mean anything else?

I went back out to the front and got on the phone. Robby left after he got me situated, and I spent most of the rest of the day with the other ladies in the office. We sat and joked in between calls and files. They didn’t say anything about the MC, and I assumed they didn’t know. Robby didn’t walk around in his vest the way Blade did at the strip club.

They both ran pretty straightforward businesses, it seemed, and it seemed they went out of their way to make it look that way. There were cracks in the façade, and I was starting to get curious. But I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to know anything that would change how I felt. By the end of the day, it didn’t matter anyway.

Chapter 15

Blade

It was the end of Lucy’s first day working for Robby. I was waiting for her back at the clubhouse after leaving Molly in charge at the club. After spending the previous night at home alone, I decided I wanted to pick her up after she got back from work. I was going to surprise her with dinner after her first day.

My possessive feelings toward her were growing stronger and turning into something else. I was starting to see her less as a girl who needed someone to watch over her and more as a young woman who had a mind of her own and just needed a helping hand.

“Waiting on her, huh?” Brick asked in his gruff voice as he came downstairs to find me sitting in a metal folding chair just outside the open bay door.

“Is it that obvious?” I replied.

“Well, usually, you’re at the club right about this time, aren’t you?” He came over and stood next to me as he lit up a cigarette. He took a couple of long drags off it and let out a small cloud of smoke.

“I’m thinking about making her my old lady, Brick. I can’t get her out of my mind,” I told the old man.

He chuckled in his knowing way and nodded his head. He stared off into the distance for a few moments before saying anything, probably searching for the right words or just letting what I’d said sink in.

“That’s not like you,” he finally said.

“I know.” I laughed and looked down.

“You’re usually out there running around with this one, that one, and all the others. You tried this once before and wound up marrying the wrong one,” he observed, but it sounded more like a warning.

“I’m well aware. Believe me, there’s a reason why it’s been so long since the last time I really wanted to get serious about anybody. But there’s something about her,” I started, unable to really put into concise words what I was thinking. There were so many things about her that felt right.

“She reminds me a lot of your ex-wife. Back in the beginning, when you first brought her around. Young, inexperienced, fresh, and full of life. Except, there was something in her, and we all warned you about it, kid,” Brick said with a hand on my shoulder, a fatherly gesture.

“I guess that’s it, but there’s a strong independence about her. She’s not sorry for who she is. She’s very proud of herself and everything she’s done so far in life. She’s also taking these changes like a champ. She hasn’t backed down. She hasn’t really fought anything a whole lot. She’s been nervous, sure, but wouldn’t anyone?” I said, defending her.

“No one’s saying anything bad about her, man. Just watch yourself. Don’t fall for the first cute, young piece of ass that comes around,” Brick said as Robby’s truck turned into the lot.

“You know she’s not the first,” I told him quickly.

“And you know what I mean,” he said in his lazy voice before walking off to leave me with her.

She sort of bounced out of the passenger side of the truck as Robby lumbered out of his side. He stretched and closed his door as she ran up to me and gave me a hug, throwing her arms around my neck. I had expected her first day to be a little rough on her, but she seemed energized instead.

“I take it you had a good day,” I said to her.

“It was great,” she said.

I cocked an eyebrow. She was too happy to be getting off work.

Robby came up just then and patted me on the back with one of his monstrous hands. His voice boomed. “You got a good one here. Thanks for letting her come in.” He put a hand on her shoulder, too, and looked down at her. “See you tomorrow?” he asked.

“Of course.” She sounded downright chipper. I hadn’t seen her that happy since I’d met her. She was a different person.

Brick’s warning stayed in my head, not to let myself fall for her too easily. I didn’t really know a whole lot about her other than what I had learned from being around her. I knew her personality more than the facts of her life, but I was beginning to feel like I only knew part of her personality. I hadn’t really seen her happy, so I didn’t know how different that was. But I was going to find out. I wasn’t going to let it scare me away.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to tell me all about it at dinner,” I told her.

“Dinner?” She looked at me, and her beautiful blue eyes focused on me suddenly, like she’d had other plans.

“Yeah. I figured I’d take you out to celebrate your first day at work with Robby and his company. I made reservations at one of the nicest restaurants in town,” I explained, trying not to sound put-out because she obviously had other plans.

“That actually sounds great,” she said. The light in her face was replaced with a comforting, loving glow, and she took my hand in hers. “When do we leave?”

“Whenever you want,” I told her.

“Then, let’s go.” She put her other hand on my cheek and kissed me. Our lips lingered together for a moment, as if we were both waiting to see if the other would take the kiss further, but we slowly drifted apart and opened our eyes.

“Come on.” I took her out to my car and opened the door for her.

“No bike tonight?” she asked as she slid into the passenger seat.

I smiled and closed the door. When I got in on my side, I looked at her and said, “I didn’t know if you were going to be wearing something appropriate for riding today.”

“Good point.” She pulled the seatbelt down across her chest, and I watched as it stretched perfectly between her breasts.

I knew once dinner was over, I was going to want to keep her at the house with me. I had grown accustomed to her body lying next to mine in the bed. It had been lonely without her, even for just one night. I had tossed and turned, and I even thought about driving out to the clubhouse to be with her. I was going to ask her to come back.

Once we got to the restaurant, we were seated. We both ordered water. Since I knew she couldn’t drink wine with her dinner, I didn’t want to drink it with mine. We sat and talked as we waited for our food to arrive. She ordered pasta, and I ordered steak, of course. I wasn’t about to pass up a good steak if I didn’t have to.

I asked her how work went, and she beamed as she told me about how Robby had made her feel welcomed. She told me about working with the other girls in the office. Apparently the position was customer service, working directly with Robby’s clients to make sure everything went smoothly.

“You know, it makes me want to go back to school to finish my business degree,” she said after telling me about work itself.

“Well, I’ll be happy to pay for it,” I responded quickly.

“I’m not going to ask you to do that for me. You’re doing enough already. If I keep working for Robby, I can eventually figure it out on my own,” she said, furrowing her brow like I was suggesting something preposterous.

I put my fork down and ran a hand through my hair. It was time to tell her how I felt and what I was thinking.

“You’re too kind, really. You don’t have to do all of this for me, Blade. Why are you, anyway?” she asked, as if she knew I was about to tell her.

“Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about. I’ve been thinking a lot while you’ve been gone, and I want you to be my old lady,” I said.

She stopped eating and looked at me. She put her fork down on her plate and rested her hands on the table, her fresh red nail polish standing out against the white tablecloth.

“I can take care of you and protect you if you’re part of the Vicious Thrills family. I can support you and help you finish college. I want to see you achieve your dreams instead of just scraping by month after month,” I continued.

“Are you serious?” she asked me. I couldn’t read the look on her face. I couldn’t tell if she was considering what I had proposed or if she thought it was too much.

“I’m dead serious, Lucy,” I told her. “I want you to be mine, and I want you back at the house,” I added with a little laugh.

“I knew that was coming. I already know you, Blade,” she said with a sly little smile.

“Last night was rough. I missed having you next to me.” I was still laughing nervously.

“I take it you’re not used to admitting things like that,” she said in a kind voice.

“You can tell, huh?” We had gone back to eating. I cut of a piece of steak so I could eat instead of focusing on how she had me figured out.

“You’re obvious with me, but I get the feeling you’re not as obvious around everyone else,” she continued.

“There are people who can read me, like the guys in the MC,” I admitted.

“That must explain why everyone assumes I’m your old lady already,” she joked.

“Yeah, I guess so.” I sat back and let out a hearty laugh.

We ate for a minute in silence, both of us letting everything sink in I figured.

“So, what about tonight?” I asked her.

“What about it?” She flashed me a teasing little smile.

“You know what about it. Are you staying with me tonight?” I could feel desire stirring, waking in my pants as our talk turned toward what was going to happen later. If she stayed, I knew exactly what was going to happen, and I was willing to bet she did, too.

“We’ll see,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes.

I took it as a yes. I hadn’t told her everything I was thinking. I was going to save the rest for later. First, I wanted to get her home, with me. I wanted to get an answer from her about being my old lady. She still hadn’t answered that proposal yet. I wanted an answer before the night was over, and I figured I’d be able to press for it again later.

Brick’s warning not to fall for her was still in my head, but she wasn’t the first one who had come along. She was the first one who had touched me the way she did, the first one in a long time. I watched her as she finished her pasta. I was falling in love with her. I couldn’t help how I felt, and I didn’t want to help how I felt. I wanted to feel it.

There was so much more to say to her, but the moment had passed. It was time to finish eating and get home. I wanted to please her. It had been too long since the last time. I wanted to show her how I felt as much as I wanted to tell her.

Chapter 16

Lucy

I didn’t expect Blade to be waiting for me when I got off of work and came back to the clubhouse. I had expected another night like the first one. I expected someone to prepare dinner for anyone staying at the clubhouse for the night. Carla had told me it was a pretty normal occurrence for the members of the MC to have dinner together. It wasn’t a big deal; usually, it was whoever was able to make it or happened to be hanging out. They were a very communal group.

I was glad to see him. It felt like it had been forever since the last time I saw him, even though he had only dropped me off the day before. We had been in pretty constant contact since I walked into his strip club that night. Plus, he was responsible for getting me the job with Robby. I wasn’t worried about how he’d earned his name when I saw him. I was just happy to be back with him.

Dinner was fabulous. We went to a nice restaurant, one of the highest rated in the city. We sat at a small round table covered in a white cloth. The place was brightly lit, and everything seemed to sparkle, like we were at the grand ball in some fairy tale where the prince swept the maiden off her feet.

I was certainly being swept off of mine with fine dining and how much Blade cared for me. He was doing more than just taking care of me. He was trying to make me his. Of course, I was reluctant. I had felt myself becoming too close to him already. And he was very persistent in his offers to help me, but more and more it seemed like he was helping me to help me, unlike the men in my life who tried to control me when I stepped out of the lines they had drawn for me.

After dinner, on the way back to his place, I brought up my appreciation again. I had thanked him before, at the restaurant, for everything he’d done for me, but I felt it bore repeating. I wanted to take some time to think about everything he had said. As much as my heart leapt in my chest for him, I didn’t want to move too fast.

Yes, we’d slept together. Yes, we’d spent the night in the same bed several times. Yes, that was confusing, and that made me want to take a step back to analyze what I was doing. I didn’t want Blade to become another Dylan. I also didn’t want to be the one moving too fast when it turned out that he was just trying to help me get through a rough patch. When he asked me be his old lady and offered to help me with school, it was everything I could do to keep from jumping across the table and letting him take me right there.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” I told him from the passenger seat of his car. I felt like I was in another world, separated from him by such a great distance that was really only a couple of feet.

“Well, I meant everything I said back there,” he told me in a serious but caring tone.

“I know you did. But why me?” I looked out the window at the streetlights passing us by as we drove through the city at night. It was so beautiful. There were so many people out enjoying themselves and each other. So many couples! It always made me feel lonely, especially when I had a lover who couldn’t share the night with me. I hoped that if I agreed to be Blade’s, exclusively, I would have someone who could be with me even when we weren’t in bed.

“From the moment you walked into my office, I was drawn to you. There was something different about you, something special. When you got onstage, I was moved. Actually moved, and you see how many girls I see on that stage on a regular basis. You are a strong woman, and with the right support, there’s no telling what you can achieve. At the same time, your strength doesn’t take away any of your femininity. You are still one hundred percent a woman.”

His words made me blush.

“Are you really going to pay for me to go back to school?” I asked.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll pay for you go to back and finish your degree.”

Blade had my back. He really had my back. If he was anything like the rest of the Vicious Thrills I had met, his support was unconditional. They all seemed like the kind of people who took someone all the way in when they took them in at all. I felt like he was trying to do the same for me.

I still hadn’t accepted his invitation to be his old lady. I wanted to tell him I already was. I had been since the first time we slept together. I had been denying it because I didn’t want to be anyone’s girl. I wanted to be my own, but deep down we both had to have known that everyone else was right. We were already together.

We pulled up to his house and got out of the car. This time, I took his hand, and I led him up to the door. I wanted to show him my appreciation for him. I wanted to show him how much I had grown in the short time I’d known him. His support was giving me a lot of new confidence.

Sure, I was proud, and I knew I could be stubborn when I wanted to be, but that wasn’t the same as real confidence. After the reactions of the audience at the club, I felt I had a better idea of what people saw when they looked at me. I knew I was attractive, and I was worth more than just being some married man’s side-piece. Blade’s reaction to my performance had told me what he thought of my body as well, even though he’d been reluctant to say much about what he thought.

On top of that, it felt good not to hide my body. It felt good to own myself. I didn’t belong to any man, and even as Blade’s old lady, I wasn’t going to belong to him. I wasn’t property, and even if I was, I was my own property. That meant I got to decide how I shared that property with others.

My parents may have believed that my body was only to be shared with a husband or a serious, devoted boyfriend, but if it belonged to me who was to say it couldn’t be shared with someone who had earned my trust, boyfriend or not? It had felt good to share myself with Blade without commitment. Confusing, sure, because it was the first time I had even entertained the idea of doing it that way, but it felt good nonetheless.

“Hey, what’s happening here?” he joked as I pulled him along behind me.

“I want to show you how thankful I am that you’ve been so supportive and accepting,” I answered. I was turning myself on by taking control of him and letting the rest of the evening be about my decisions. He’d probably wanted to take me inside and undress me himself, but I was taking over.

“Okay, okay. I’m good with that. I was thinking we needed to finish the night off with a little dessert myself,” he said, pressing against me in front of the door.

Our lips almost met. We were close enough to feel each other’s breath. I smiled and said, “Open the door. We can’t do what I want out here.”

He laughed and unlocked his front door. I pushed him through it backward so he was facing me the whole time. He was starting to grin.

I pushed the door closed with my foot and pushed him toward the stairs. I was in control. He wasn’t pulling me with him. I could feel his body waiting for me to tell him where to go.

As he backed up the stairs, I undressed him. I pulled his shirt out of the waist of his pants and began unbuttoning it, revealing his gorgeous body underneath. I unbuckled his belt as we reached the top of the stairs and made him drop his pants on the floor there, before making it to his room.

“Keep your boxers on,” I told him as he reached to pull them down. I wanted to stroke him through the fabric. I wanted to feel his straining erection hidden from my eyes, waiting for me to take it out for my mouth, or for my wet core.

“I like this version of you,” he panted as I stroked him in the hallway, pushing him back toward his bedroom door. “You’re so confident. It’s a big turn-on.”

“Good,” I purred.

As we made it into his room, I pushed him onto his back on the bed. He watched as I pulled my clothes off and left them on the floor at the side of his bed. As I revealed myself to him, I felt like I was back onstage. I ran my hands slowly over my body, sliding them up over my breasts. I cupped my soft, round tits and squeezed them for him, watching the desire in his face and between his legs. I pinched my hardening pink nipples for him and pulled.

Pleasure erupted through my body. It was like bolts of lightning shooting out from my nipples. I slid a hand down between my legs for him to see. I had never pleasured myself. I had never been one to explore my own body, but as my fingers passed over the delicate folds of skin between my legs, I realized it was something I needed to do, the final step of claiming my body as my own. My legs pressed together around my hand as the sudden shock of ecstasy nearly brought me to my knees.

Dylan and Blade had both touched me, but it felt different when it was my own fingers, my own hand, passing over my clit.

I stopped playing. I knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t myself. I pulled his boxer shorts down, exposing his manhood to me, standing hard and ready for me to take him inside. I stroked him with my hand. His skin was soft, though it was pulled taut by his erection. I climbed onto the bed and straddled him.

“Is that how you want it?” he asked.

“This is how I need it,” I told him as I positioned his head at my entrance. I could feel his hips pushing up toward me ever so slightly, pressing him into my lips. They parted, and I pushed myself down slowly onto his shaft.

Every single inch of him passed through my opening with intense pleasure. My body shook as I pressed down onto him, taking him deep into me. It was the first time I had ever taken control, and it felt amazing. I had been on top before, but not like this. This time, it was all me.

I grabbed his hands and put them on my breasts. I made him squeeze me as I thrust myself down onto him, over and over, faster and faster. Harder each time, until I could hear our bodies slamming into each other.

We both panted with passion and exertion as our hips collided again and again. He grunted as he pressed his hips up to meet mine. I moaned as he penetrated deep into me. I tilted my head back and moaned at the ceiling with my hands still holding his in place on my tits. He squeezed and massaged them without my assistance, though, as I just held him in place.

I listened to what my body was telling me to do. I pressed down on him and started rocking my hips furiously back and forth, keeping him deep inside of me as I rubbed myself against him.

“I’m going to cum,” I told him. My body shook. I leaned down and put my hands on his firm chest as I continued rocking on top of him. The noises that escaped me! I whined and whimpered and moaned and cried out as pleasure coursed through my body uncontrollably. There was an electrical storm inside of me as my ecstasy grew to the point that it could barely be contained.

His hands had moved and my body searched to see where I could feel him touching me. They were on the sides of my face, and his lips were on mine. Our mouths were locked together and our tongues were intertwined. I moaned into his mouth as my orgasm erupted from deep within.

My body wanted to collapse as my hips continued to rock against him. He grabbed me and pulled me down, not letting me lose my rhythm. He worked my hips at the same pace.

“Keep cumming for me,” he ordered as he took me over. My body shook and shivered, and I panted with my eyes closed against his chest.

I felt him growing even harder, felt the tension in his cock increasing. He was about to cum. I felt him so acutely that I could almost feel his orgasm working up through his shaft. He held me down, held himself deep inside of me for a moment, pushing his hips harder and harder against me, before pulling back, pulling out of me.

He put a hand on the top of my head and gently pushed me down his tense, stiff body. I grabbed him and took him into my mouth, sliding my lips down his shaft, working him, pumping him with my lips and tongue until he exploded inside me. His warmth, his salty flavor, filled my mouth, filled my throat. I swallowed him as quickly as he came, each jerk of his cock filling my mouth with more of his flavor.

I sucked and licked up every drop until his grip on my head relaxed and I felt the tension of his body give way. I looked up at his panting face. His eyes were closed. He faced the ceiling. His chest heaved.

If anyone had taken anyone tonight, I had taken him, I thought. He may have wanted me to be his, but I had made him mine in giving myself to him.

Chapter 17

Blade

As I lay in my bed with Lucy next to me, coming down from the heights of our shared ecstasy and intimacy, I thought about how much she had changed. The girl who had come into my office hadn’t been confident enough to do what she’d just done to me. She had been confident in her ability to dance and her ability to overcome obstacles, but she had come across as shy about her body itself. She had been reserved.

While so many girls who came through my door lost their spirit on that stage, Lucy had found hers. She owned her body now. Hell, she’d owned mine in bed.

“So how does this work?” she asked dreamily as we lay next to each other. She rolled over toward me and curled up against me.

“What do you mean?” I asked. We’d had sex before. She certainly knew how that worked.

“I mean, do you take me back to the clubhouse? Do I stay here tonight? All of my stuff is over there now. I wasn’t really prepared to spend the night.” Her voice didn’t lose its comfortable, dreamy quality while she talked, despite her questions. She sounded like she wanted me to assure her that she didn’t need to go back to the clubhouse. I didn’t want her to. I wanted her to stay.

“I’ll take you back in the morning so you can get ready for work,” I told her.

She put her arm across my stomach and squeezed me. “I missed this,” she said, as if she were already drifting off to sleep.

“I did, too, even though it was only one night.” I looked down at her and stroked her hair.

She chuckled, and I felt her breath on my skin. “How funny is that? We can’t even be apart for one whole day without being all sad and depressed, like a couple of teenagers.”

I wanted to remind her that she wasn’t that far removed from her teenage years, but I didn’t need the reminder that I was. At twenty-nine, I had left my teens just before she made it to hers. I tried not to think about the age difference, though. As we got older, the gap would seem to shrink. At twenty-one she was closer to me than she would have been when I was twenty-one, even though the numerical difference would have been the same. We were closer in maturity. Then, I laughed to myself. Even though I hadn’t said anything, I was still reminded of the difference in our ages.

“Well, have you given any thought to what I said at dinner, about being my old lady?” I asked her.

She looked up at me with her sweet blue eyes. “It’s all I’ve really been thinking about, Blade. I don’t know. I guess I didn’t feel the need to say it out loud, since everyone thinks we already are. I was just letting things go their own way. That kind of seems to be how my life works these days.”

“I can see that,” I agreed, still stroking her strawberry blonde hair.

“Why is it so important to make that distinction?”

I had to choose my words carefully, I knew. Even though she sometimes seemed shy or inexperienced, she was still a very independent woman. If anything, discovering confidence in her body seemed to be making her even more independent. She probably saw my attempt to label our relationship as a way to exert control over her, and, for once, I was thankful that I wasn’t going to have to control the relationship. For once, I knew the relationship was going to be fine on its own. Still, I wanted it to be official. I wanted to be sure of the nature of our relationship.

“I want you by my side, Lucy. I want to share more than my bed and my home with you. I want to share my life with you. I want to send you back to school so you can finish your degree and do what you want with your life instead of just following a paycheck,” I stared, stopping short of saying everything that was on my mind. There was more I wanted for her, but I wasn’t sure how she was going to take it when I said it.

“I know you do, and I thank you for that, Blade. I thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” she said, stroking my chest, still reluctant for some reason to accept.

“I want you to move back in, Lucy. I don’t mind if you spend off time at the clubhouse, but I want you here, with me,” I confessed.

She laughed. “It was just one night, and you’re already changing your tune. You really must like me or something,” she teased.

“You have no idea.” I grabbed her hand and pulled it up to my mouth, kissing the back of it gently.

She blushed, and I caught a glimpse of that same uncertain girl who walked into my office with hopes of auditioning to be on my stage.

“If you will have me as your lover – and I don’t mean as an occasional partner, I mean as your lover – I will never turn my back on you like the other men in your life have done.”

Her eyes widened as I spoke. She stared at me slack-jawed as if she hadn’t expected me to pledge my devotion to her that way. “I don’t know what to say, Blade.” She pushed herself up from my chest. “I’m flattered, definitely, but that’s heavy stuff to drop on me like that.”

“I know, but I mean it. No one should ever walk out on someone they love, not if they truly love them. Your father had no business shutting you out and turning his back on you the way he did. Your mother should have stepped in to stop him. Instead, I’m willing to bet she just sat back and watched, probably with tears in her eyes.” I didn’t care if my words overstepped my bounds. I wanted her to know and understand where I stood and why I stood there with her.

“She tried, but, you know,” Lucy started, letting her voice trail off with a touch of disappointment in her mother’s inability to stop what had happened to her.

“And any man who wants to be a woman’s lover certainly should open his door to her when things go wrong in her life. Instead, that coward who fathered your child ran off once he realized you were knocked up. He probably took his wife with him, and now she’s probably wondering why her husband is suddenly so devoted to her. He’s scared shitless because his little affair became too real for him,” I told her, realizing for the first time how upset I was that everyone from before had treated her the way they did.

She looked down at the bed and put her hands in her lap. She looked like she was about to cry. She had really cared for that married man she’d been seeing. “What would you have done?” she asked quietly.

I put a finger under her chin. “I can’t honestly say I would have done any better if I had found myself in the same situation, but I wouldn’t have found myself in that situation,” I told her.

“Well, what are you going to do about it now? It already happened. It’s old news,” she said, shrugging off the tears in her eyes and laughing nervously to keep them from spilling over.

“I’m going to adopt your child, if you will let me. If you will have me, I want to adopt your child. I want to take you and your child in as my family. I want to spend every day making it right for you.” I had a vague idea of what I was saying, but, for the most part, the words just gushed out from my heart.

“You’re not only talking about me being your girlfriend,” Lucy said in surprise.

I didn’t say anything. I realized that what I was saying to her, everything I had said to her, sounded like a marriage proposal. I was talking about building a life together, which was exactly what I wanted, but I hadn’t actually made it far enough in my thought process to label what I was thinking as marriage, but that was exactly what I was saying. I wanted her to be my old lady, my permanent old lady.

“You’re talking about the future, way down the line, about us staying together forever, that sort of thing,” she continued, breaking it down so it made sense without saying that I was proposing to her or asking her to marry me.

I wasn’t proposing, but there was no way I wasn’t putting it out there. I was definitely putting it on the table. It was something for us to think about as we continued to move forward. Together.

“I mean, you’re talking about making yourself and the MC my family,” she said. The more she talked, the more animated she became. “You want me to be yours. Not just your lover or your girlfriend, but yours-yours.”

I laughed as I watched her wrap her mind around what I was saying. “Right,” I agreed. “I want you to be mine, but not in the sense that you belong to me. You’re not a piece of property, and your independence is one of the things that continues to attract me to you. You’re strong. You’re my equal. You are not beneath me. You will be more than just my girlfriend, my lover, my old lady, or my wife. You will be my partner, and that baby will be our baby. I will take the place as your child’s father,” I said.

I didn’t tell her that because she made me nervous, she also made me certain that she was the one for me. I didn’t tell her that talking about the future made me a little scared, but it did. The last time I had talked to anyone about the future, there had been no future for us. We married, made each other miserable, and divorced. And it was ugly. I had vowed never to do it again.

But I found someone who made me want to give love another try in Lucy. I felt her affection was genuine. She wasn’t hiding a heinous bitch inside anywhere, waiting to pounce on me as soon as we slid the wedding bands on.

“Are you asking me to marry you now? Are you proposing to me right this moment?” she asked.

“No, I’m not. I’m asking you to be mine. I want you as my old lady, essentially as my girlfriend. I want us to give this relationship a real try instead of leaving it as just sex. I want more out of this, and I want to offer you more, too,” I told her.

She looked at me and opened her mouth as if to speak a couple of times. I could see that she was thinking over what I’d told her. If my divorce still felt new from time to time after a couple of years, surely her breakup with the baby’s father felt like her immediate past. If she was unsure of herself, I understood completely. I was asking her to make a big move, to take a huge leap of faith.

We sat in silence and stared at each other, hoping the other would speak first. The longer she went without saying anything, the farther away I felt my chances slipping. I wanted to say something, to urge her to take a chance on me, but I didn’t want to push her farther away than she was already drifting.

I grabbed her hand instead. I laced our fingers together and pulled her back down to me, to lie across me. I wanted us to touch, because it was harder for us to ignore the possibility of being together as a couple if I made it feel like we already were.

Then, I waited.

Chapter 18

Lucy

Blade was definitely unlike any other man in my life. He wasn’t afraid to address my concerns. I knew he meant what he was saying when he told me he wouldn’t turn his back on me. I knew he meant it when he said he wanted to adopt my child, to make the baby ours instead of just mine. I also knew he wasn’t proposing to me, not right then. He was simply letting me know what he wanted, down the line.

It was everything I wanted. He was everything I wanted. In Blade, I found someone no one else wanted to be. The person I was supposed to avoid because he was sleazy or violent or a criminal, was turning out to be the Prince Charming I had been searching for all my life. He might have been all the things he was supposed to be, but he was nothing but sweet perfection when he was with me.

I could tell he lived his life according to a moral code. It was a code he didn’t flaunt. He didn’t constantly have to repeat neat, streamlined quotes from his code, because his morality was reflected in how he lived and how he treated the people around him. I had seen already that he was held in high regard by his peers, and that spoke volumes about who he was.

I knew he was a man of his word. Sure, he may have had a past, but it was his past, just like mine or anyone else’s. The person in front of me was all that mattered.

I stared at him, waiting to see if he would say anything else. I thought about everything he had already said to me in his bed, from college to my kid, to never leaving my side. He even said he wanted me to be his partner more than just his girl. That stuck out to me. I didn’t want to lose my independence by allowing myself to love this man the way I really wanted to, the way he really wanted me to. According to him, I wasn’t going to.

“I’ve got news for you, Blade,” I told him, finally.

“What’s that?” he asked with a concerned look on his face.

“I already am your old lady.”

He laughed and put his arms around me.

“Everyone already thinks so anyway. The girls at the club, the other old ladies at the MC, and definitely all your brothers,” I told him, laughing with him. “I think you’re the last one to figure it out.”

“Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to hear it. I wanted to make sure we were on the same page as everyone else,” he said. He pulled me up so our faces were even and we kissed. Our lips met and we kissed slowly, letting our lips linger together before our tongues met between us.

He pulled back and brushed my hair out of my face. There was so much life in his eyes now. I figured it must have really bothered him that we weren’t together, or that there was any possibility I was going to leave once I got back on my feet. We’d had an argument and I had told him I was going to leave. I had told him I was only going to be around until I could get back on my own, but there was no turning back now, and he knew that. He had me for good.

“So, when are you moving back in?” he asked.

“I guess whenever you want me to. I don’t have much to pack up from the clubhouse,” I said.

“Yeah, we need to do something about that. We need to get you out of your backpack and into this house for real. What about the stuff from your parents’ house? What’s happening with all of that?” he asked me.

“I don’t know.” I didn’t know. I hadn’t thought about my things from home since I’d left home. I imagined it was all still there, waiting for me to come back for it one day.

“Well, do you want to go and get it?” he said, as if he’d been listening to my thoughts.

“I don’t know,” I said again, cautiously.

“What do you mean? You’re an adult. You have the right to go to your parents’ and get any of your things that they still have.” It felt like a lecture more than anything else.

“I do need to talk to my father,” I told him. “I need to talk to him about all of this before he finds out some other way.”

“That would be bad, wouldn’t it?” he said, an almost smug look on his face.

“If I talk to him and try to patch things up, I might still be able to salvage what’s left of my inheritance from him,” I added. “If he hasn’t already cut me out completely.”

It was one of those topics I assumed Blade didn’t know much about. He didn’t seem to have an inheritance lying around anywhere. He didn’t seem like the type who came from a family concerned with inheritance money. I felt awful for thinking that way, but it seemed to be the case.

“I feel like that’s the best way to handle it. You know, he kicked me out, but he’s still my dad. I still feel like I owe him at least that much respect,” I added.

He didn’t say anything to me, but I could see he was thinking. His mind was going over what I’d just said to him.

“I mean, what do you think?” I asked, pushing on his chest. “You have to have some input on this.”

“I feel like he doesn’t deserve any respect from you. Like you said, he kicked you out. He doesn’t need to be concerned with what you’re doing now. If he doesn’t have enough respect for you, his daughter, or the baby you’re carrying, his grandchild, to keep you under his roof and take care of you in your current condition, then he doesn’t deserve to be part of your life or your child’s. Maybe that’s just me, but where I come from, we choose our family based on loyalty, not on blood.”

“I know. But, still, he’s my dad.” I sighed.

“I guess you’re right. And he always will be. I guess it’ll be good to let him know what you’re up to, but he’s already been asking around about you, and the guys have already told him you’re not involved with us. No one has seen you,” Blade explained.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” I pushed myself back up so I could hear what he was saying again. I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right the first time.

“The guys told me he’s been around asking about you. He’s been showing pictures and everything. They all know to tell him they haven’t seen you, even the ones who have. We don’t give our people up like that,” he explained.

“You don’t give your people up like that?” I repeated as a question. “Why didn’t you tell me he was out there looking for me?”

I imagined my father on the street with a picture of me, showing it to guys like the Thrills I saw at the clubhouse – tough, intimidating looking bikers. He had to have been worried sick about me. Of course, if these same bikers had been telling him I wasn’t around, and he found out I was with another member of their MC, he was going to be pissed. When my dad got pissed, it didn’t end well for people.

“It was right after you had shown up. I was trying to protect you,” he said in a reassuring tone.

I wasn’t reassured, though. “Do you understand how powerful he is?” I snapped.

“Do you understand how beyond his reach we are?” he fired back at me.

“Fair enough, but I’m sure he knows people who could cause a lot of problems for you,” I warned him. “Dammit, Blade, you should have told me right away. Even if I hadn’t gone home with him, it would have opened the door for a conversation between us at the right time. Now, everything is going to be jeopardized.” I had to think of something to tell him when he asked why he’d been told I wasn’t hanging out with the bikers when he came around looking for me. I knew he wasn’t going to believe me if I told him I hadn’t come around yet. Hell, I didn’t believe it enough to even consider saying it.

“Look, I’ll help you break the news to him,” Blade offered.

“No, absolutely not,” I told him. “Absolutely not. You are not going to come with me.”

“I figured, in case you needed someone to explain why we told him no in the first place,” he said. He had a stunned look on his face.

“No,” I said adamantly, shaking my head. “I don’t care what he says or how he responds. This is one I have to handle on my own. I had to tell him alone. This is my problem.”

“At least let me drive you over there,” Blade insisted.

“What’s the deal?” I asked. “Why can’t you trust me to handle this alone?”

“What are you going to do, get a cab?” he snapped at me. “I’m just going to sit in the car. I don’t have to come in with you. I’m going to sit back and wait for you.”

I took a couple of angry breaths and stared at him. He was right. I couldn’t go alone. I didn’t have any way of getting over there. But I didn’t want him there. I didn’t want any of them there. I was worried about what my father might have tried if he saw anyone else with me, especially someone like Blade or the rest of the MC, someone who had no business with his daughter, as far as he was concerned.

After the moment passed, I laughed, though. We had just agreed to become an item. I had agreed to be official with Blade and already we were having a fight where he was trying to overstep his bounds. In reality, maybe he wasn’t trying anything like that. He was probably trying to be helpful.

There wasn’t a whole lot I could accomplish without his help at the moment. It didn’t necessarily mean I was helpless or that he was being controlling. It just meant I had to adjust my boundaries a little with him. I had to give a little more than what might have been comfortable for me to do. But it also meant I had to be clear when it came down to it. I had to be very clear with what I would allow and what I would not.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I’m still getting used to having to accept other people’s help.”

“It’s okay. I get it. But understand I’m just here to have your back. I’m not here to get in the way or control you. That’s not what I want to do,” he reminded me.

I was falling in love with this man. Everything he said was exactly what I wanted and needed to hear. I seriously didn’t know if there had ever been another man in my life who had my back more than Blade did. I smiled and kissed him, and I rested my head on his chest. I agreed we would have to go soon to see my dad. I didn’t want to put it off any longer than I had to, especially if he were already looking for me.

Chapter 19

Blade

I called Robby the next morning and told him what we were doing, explaining that I was going to bring Lucy in after she went to see her father. He was fine with it. By the time she woke up, everything had been handled. I ran her to the clubhouse so she could get ready and so she could grab her things from her room. If everything went well, I hoped we would be grabbing the rest of her things from her parents’ house before the end of the day.

She showed me how to get to their neighborhood. It was amazing to me that we had only lived a few miles apart in the city, but we lived in different worlds. I wasn’t surprised by her parents’ neighborhood. The lawns were neatly trimmed, and all of the houses seemed uptight and almost clenched together, as if they were terrified of their neighbors. There were no porches and no signs of life out in front of the properties we passed.

There weren’t even any sidewalks. I knew that in my neck of the woods, we were also guilty of focusing most of our outdoor activities behind our houses, but at least we had sidewalks in case anyone needed to be outside. Somehow, despite our fences and overgrown hedgerows, our houses felt more connected to one another than the ones around her old neighborhood. It could have been that my neighbors’ houses sprawled across their properties, making them literally closer to one another.

All the houses surrounding her parents’ house were boxes. Everything was square or rectangular and perfectly contained in its own space. Nothing seemed out of place. It was exactly the kind of neighborhood where I would have expected to find the kind of parents who would disown their daughter for being pregnant.

We pulled up in her driveway, which looked like every other driveway on her street, and I parked in front of the brick two-car garage with the white wooden doors. I cut off the engine, and the silence of her neighborhood came crashing in on us.

I was used to the city noises of traffic, sirens, and yard work. There was nothing where we were. It was a void.

“Do you have your phone on you?” I asked her as she unbuckled.

“I do, but you’re staying in the car. You got it?” she reminded me forcefully.

“I’m just saying, in case you need me to come in or get the hell out of Dodge, okay,” I told her, holding my hands up to show her I didn’t mean anything by it.

“Okay.” She took a couple of deep breaths.

“It’ll be all right. I can come in if you need me to.”

“No, that’s not it. I have a few questions before I go in, things that have been bothering me,” she said, turning around to face me in her seat.

“Okay.” My stomach sank. I knew it was only a matter of time before she started asking about the MC. But if she was going to present us to her dad, she had to have her story straight before she went to him. Otherwise, he was liable to eat her alive.

My eyes glanced behind her at the perfectly manicured lawn. I wondered how many people had disappeared from this neighborhood without a trace, and without so much as an investigation. I was willing to bet their dirty secrets were juicier than mine.

“There are some things I’ve wanted to know, but I haven’t wanted to ask. My father is going to bring these things up when I tell him I’m dating a prominent member of an MC called the Vicious Thrills, especially when I tell him that you go by Blade, which isn’t even your real name,” she said.

“Right. Well, shoot. I’m an open book,” I told her.

“First, what’s your full name? I know your name is Devin, but what’s your last name? I should know this if I’m dating you.”

“My real name is Devin Shaw. Not nearly as impressive as Blade,” I told her.

“Shaw,” she repeated, committing it to memory.

I wondered if her father really needed to know all of that. If he were as powerful as she assumed he was, having my full name gave him more power over me.

“And he’s going to ask this because it’s the stereotype: is the MC in on any underground stuff, any illegal stuff?” she asked.

I looked at her for a brief second before answering. I didn’t want to lie to her, but she didn’t need to go in to talk to her father and tell him that we were in on weapons, drugs, and other underhanded business. She didn’t need to know all of that, even though I was sure there was no way she didn’t see that I lived well beyond my means as the owner of a little strip club that was really never that busy.

“I mean, we’ve been in a handful of bar fights and things like that,” I said.

“But nothing major? And let me guess, you got your name for cutting people in fights, kind of like Hatchet with his axes,” she said, taking the bait perfectly.

A lie was not a good place to start the new stage in our relationship, but it seemed to be the only way to ensure future stages, when I would get the chance to come clean about some of the things we really did.

“Right, that’s it,” I told her.

She narrowed her eyes at me, as if to say she didn’t believe me, but we didn’t have time to go over everything in detail either. She was forced to accept my answers and move on. I was thankful for that. I didn’t want to tell her about my time inside or about shanking someone while I was in. That was really how I got my name. Luckily, the guy I had shanked kept his mouth shut, allowing me to get out without any extra time tacked onto my sentence, but everyone already knew it was me.

My stories were stories for another time, and there were plenty of them. I had been a member of the MC for over a decade, and in that time, I had done everything I could to move up in rank. That meant taking a lot of risks and pulling a lot of shit that should have landed me behind bars for a long, long time.

I sighed. “You got it?” I asked her.

“So, you guys run your own businesses on the side?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’re a group of business owners, and we typically provide work for our younger members,” I said.

“But you don’t. You don’t employ anyone associated with the Thrills, and I’m the only one working for Robby who’s part of it,” she said. “Robby told me Hammer used to work for him, but that’s it. I haven’t heard of anyone else working for him. What do some of the other guys do?” she asked. I could hear the concern in her voice, and I knew how it looked.

It looked like what it was, and that was why we had so much trouble with the law. We were funneling money for the MC through our other companies, through our jobs. I didn’t have time to explain it to her.

“Just tell him that’s what we do,” I said. “I don’t have time to make it sound more legit than it does.”

She looked at me, shocked.

“Don’t act surprised. We work to fund the MC, and occasionally our companies employ some of our people to help them out. For the most part we try to keep the companies separate from the MC so the cops don’t think it’s some sort of money laundering ring,” I explained, taking a shot at making it sound less suspicious.

“Okay, that’s what I’ll go with, but you and I are going to have to talk at some point. I want to understand what’s really going on with you,” she said.

“Okay, no problem. Good luck with your dad.” I looked away as she opened the door and climbed out of the car.

Sometimes it was hard to imagine that someone as colorful and independent as Lucy came from such a sterile, lifeless part of town, but there were other times when she revealed just how sheltered she was. I had to remind myself that my world was still new to her. There were bound to be things she just didn’t understand. The way we did business was one of those things.

I looked out the passenger side window to watch her take the steps to the front door of the brick house where her parents lived. There were two white columns in front, at the top of the stairs. I watched until she disappeared between them. It looked like some kind of government building or part of a prep school. Everything was boxed in and symmetrical. If there was any life here, it was contained inside, like a prison.

She had asked some pretty serious questions before going inside, and I knew she wasn’t going to just drop it when she came back out. She was going to get her answers from me one way or another. I didn’t know how to tell her that we were involved in so many things.

We ran drugs and weapons. We smuggled things in for our members who were on the inside. There was an element of prostitution. I wasn’t too terribly proud of it, but it happened. We also provided security, intimidation, and muscle for private citizens and other local organizations. We had even been known to carry out hits for the right price. None of our muscles or hitmen had street names to indicate what they did for us. We felt it was safer that way.

There was so much she didn’t know, so much she didn’t need to know, but if we were going to be talking about making our relationship last for the long haul, I was eventually going to have to come clean about everything. I dreaded it. My only hope was that she would be able to keep her mind open to accept everything I had to tell her without judgment.

I was confident that things in her neck of the woods weren’t as perfect and clean as everyone probably preferred to pretend. I was sure if anyone did any digging, they would have found plenty of dirt on people like her father. I didn’t know any successful businessmen who didn’t have some skeletons in the closet, just waiting to be found. I wondered what his looked like.

I cranked the car back up. The summer sun was starting to heat the day, and I didn’t know how much longer I was going to have to sit outside in the car without the air on. Plus, having it on meant I could get out of there if I needed to, with or without Lucy. Just as she didn’t know what to expect when she started asking questions, I didn’t know what to expect sitting outside in their driveway.

The air came on, and I continued to wait. There was no way it was going well in there. If he’d kicked her out of the house for getting pregnant by a married man, he was going to flip his lid when she walked in there to tell him she was living with and fucking a biker who went by the name Blade. My name was pretty obvious, I thought. I cut people, and I apparently did it enough to get a nickname based on slicing folks up with knives or shivs. Surely her father was experienced enough in the world to know exactly what was going on as soon as his daughter started explaining everything to him.

I hoped he didn’t try to blow my cover and expose my lies when he heard what she had to tell him about me or the MC.

Chapter 20

Lucy

I knocked as I opened the front door. I didn’t want to draw attention to my presence at the door and have my parents – especially my father– look outside. They would have seen the Charger sitting in the driveway, and there would have been a confrontation. I needed to avoid that if at all possible.

“Anybody home?” I called into tomb-silent house. The air was crisp and cool, as always. It stayed about the same temperature all year, not quite cold, but never warm.

I closed the door and walked into the entry way.

“Mom? Dad?” I called.

Suddenly, out of the blue, my mother was in my face. “Oh my god, Lucy, where have you been? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Have you been taking care of yourself?” Her hands were on my face, my shoulders, my arms, my hips. She spoke frantically, as if I were returning from having run away instead of making my first appearance after being kicked out.

“Mom, I’m okay,” I told her, taking her hands and putting them down. “I just came to talk to you and Dad about some things.”

All the color sank from her face. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“You and Dad kicked me out of the house. What do you think?” I snapped.

“That was all your dad, honey. I didn’t have anything to do with that,” she pleaded.

“You didn’t stop him,” I said with raised eyebrows.

I walked through the living room where the fight had occurred last time. I headed for the dining room. I wanted somewhere to sit, a room where we all had to at least pretend we were sensible people. I didn’t want to seem like I was afraid of my father’s wrath anymore. I wasn’t. I had plenty of people to back me up if things went wrong, and I was beginning to realize they were very likely everything I had expected them to be when it came to protecting themselves and each other.

My mother followed behind me, and I heard my dad coming downstairs.

His voice boomed. “Did I hear Lucy come in?”

“Yes, dear,” my mother called out to him.

I had only been gone a short time, but I felt I didn’t fit in anymore in this world.

My father stepped into the room, and there was a mixture of joy and anger in his face immediately. I could tell he was happy to see me, but he was also angry that I had taken him at his word. I had stayed gone when I left.

I stood up and let him hug me. His arms felt foreign to me, stiff, like he didn’t know how to be affectionate. I’d had better, more sincere hugs from complete strangers in the time I’d been gone.

“Are you back?” he asked.

“Why are you both treating me like I ran away?” I snapped at him.

He backed away and tried to say something. His mouth kept trying to form words, but nothing was coming out. He was just as shocked as my mother had been.

“Have a seat, Dad,” I told him dryly. “You, too, Mom. I need to talk to both of you.”

The time for being apologetic, if there had ever been such a time, was gone. I was not the same sad, ashamed girl I had been when I left their house. There was nothing I needed to be ashamed of. Any decisions I had made were my own, even the dumb ones, like sleeping with a married man. Any decisions that had been made for me, such as being kicked out of my parents’ house, were not mine to answer for.

“What is this about, Lucy?” my father asked, the sternness in his voice returning. He didn’t like being put in his place, and he could probably tell that was exactly what was about to happen.

“After you kicked me out, some things in my life have changed. Before I go along with those changes, out of respect to you, my parents, I feel I need to let you know where I am and what I’m doing,” I started. It hadn’t sounded as formal in my head.

“What are you talking about?” my father asked, his voice a little more urgent. I could tell he was getting antsy, and he wanted me to get to the point.

“I’m seeing someone,” I announced.

“That’s great, honey,” my mother said immediately, obviously a knee-jerk reaction. “I’m sure he’s a great guy.”

“Lauren,” my father said, shutting her up. He turned to face me. “So, you mean to tell me I kicked you out on the street and you found a pimp to whore you out.”

“Bryan!” my mother shouted.

“Lauren, let me handle this,” he snapped. Always the controlling asshole.

“Mom, he is a great guy, and he’s not a pimp,” I said, leaning to the side to obviously look past my father. It was amazing to me that he’d never beaten us. All he had were his words, fortunately, but they still hurt when he wanted them to.

“Well, I’m sure he is,” my father snapped. “He’s obviously taking good care of his best girl, huh?”

“Dad, he’s not a pimp. He’s a biker,” I said.

“Oh, even better. You hear that, Lauren? She’s dating a biker,” he roared.

“Better than a pimp,” my mother squeaked. She closed her eyes, regretting her remark as soon as she’d made it.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, laughing.

“I don’t see what’s so funny.”

“You are,” I told my father. “Sitting in this sterile house, pretending you control something because you can shut your wife up and you ran off the daughter who refused to fit in with your life.”

“How dare you come into my house and talk to me this way!” he shouted.

“Who’s raising his voice and shouting at everyone?” I asked him. “It’s not me, and it’s not my mother, your wife. And I don’t see anyone else in the room. You might want to sit down and shut up, and listen for a change.”

He did as I suggested, noticing I wasn’t backing down from him. I wasn’t cowering in my chair the way I had cowered from his voice on the couch. He had a habit of standing up as he raised his voice, as if it took his whole body to increase his volume.

“Now, it’s serious with this biker. His name is Blade.”

My father groaned, but I shot him a look, and he raised his hands, as if to remind me he wasn’t saying anything.

“He took me in when someone froze my checking account, locked me out of my money, and kicked me onto the street. He got me a job with another member of his motorcycle club, a guy who runs his own construction company. He pays well, and I even have insurance to take care of the baby.”

My mother’s face beamed as I spoke. As ludicrous as my story was, she was loving it. My father just sat and watched with his arms crossed. He seemed to be pouting, like a small child! I knew he hated hearing about the baby.

“I’m living with him, and marriage has come up. He has offered to take care of my baby and even adopt it,” I told them.

“You can’t be serious,” my father snapped. He’d had all he could take, it seemed.

“Look, I need to come by at some point with some of the guys from the MC and pick up my things,” I told him, ignoring his outburst.

“You can’t be serious,” he repeated himself slowly, as if I hadn’t heard him the first time.

“What do you find so hard to believe? That I’ve fallen in love with someone, or that you kicked your own daughter out on street? Because, frankly, I find that last part pretty unbelievable,” I said.

“No, you’re not going to come in here and talk to us any way you want to,” my father snapped again. He stood up, even though he wasn’t raising his voice this time. “Your mother and I aren’t going to sit here and take this from you.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not asking you to take anything from me. I’m asking you to accept my life as it is now. I’m not asking to come back into this house. I’m asking you to allow me to get my things out of it. I’m asking you two to continue to be my parents even as I take a different path from what was originally planned for me.”

“No. Your life is an insult to everything I’ve done for this family. I refuse to accept that my daughter is living with a man who can’t even go by his real name. He’s probably a criminal. What’s the name of his gang?” he asked.

“His motorcycle club is The Vicious Thrills,” I told him.

“The Vicious Thrills! Sounds like something out of a movie. You have no right to come in here and ask us to accept this horrid abomination of a lifestyle. I want you out. Don’t come back again,” he said, pointing at the door.

“Bryan,” my mother pleaded, crying again.

“Mom, I’m sorry,” I told her as I got up. I was apologizing for leaving her with that horrible man. My father really was despicable.

“Don’t speak to her,” he snapped.

“Fine, I’ll leave, but this time, don’t come looking for me,” I said in his face.

“What? What are you talking about?” His face turned red as he tried to deny that he’d been looking for me.

“Word gets around on the street, Dad. You start asking about someone involved with an organization like The Vicious Thrills, everyone knows. Everyone sees that shit. Don’t do it.” I turned and started to walk away.

“Don’t come in here and threaten me. I’m your father,” he bellowed behind me. “I’m not done talking to you. Come back here. Don’t walk away while I’m talking to you.”

He continued shouting as I walked through the door. I wasn’t sad to be leaving my parents behind as much as I was sad that my dad was so angry. He was hurting himself with his anger more than he was ever going to hurt either one of us. He was shutting me out, and it probably wasn’t going to be long before my mother did something about it. She looked like she was at the end of her rope, as well. I just hoped she found help.

The black Charger waited for me in the driveway, humming, with Blade sitting in the driver seat, ready to take me away from everything and return me to my real family. The MC was much tighter than my family had ever been, I fought back tears as I got in. I knew that once the car was in gear, it was over.

“Everything okay?” Blade asked.

I nodded. “We don’t have to worry about my folks or any of my things from the house. That part of my life is over.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He reached a hand over and rubbed my leg.

“It’s okay. I’m better off. I look forward to raising our child as a Vicious Thrill,” I told him.

I stared at the house as Blade backed out of the driveway. Once we were on the street and starting to pull away from my old home, I let one tear fall down my cheek. I didn’t let him see it. I didn’t want to let anyone see me cry. I may have been leaving my dad behind with all his little rules, but I felt like that one still applied where I was going. I didn’t want anyone at the MC to see my weaknesses.

Chapter 21

Blade

As we pulled away from her house, I took Lucy’s hand in mine. I could see it was affecting her more than she wanted me to know, but I didn’t want to draw any attention to that fact. I wanted her to believe she was being strong, because she really was. It took a lot to go face her parents the way she did. I didn’t know what went on inside that house, but if she went at them the way she came at me sometimes, no matter what her father said this time, she had come out on top.

“Hey, how do you feel about going in this afternoon? Or do you just want me to take you back to the house?” I asked, trying to distract her.

“Take me to the office. I need work to help me get my mind off all this,” she told me, wiping her eyes. If she’d been crying, she never would have admitted it.

“Are you sure?” I asked her.

“Of course I’m sure. If I thought I needed to go home and eat ice cream in front of the TV, I’d tell you that’s what I need to do. No, I need to go to work. I need to be productive,” she snapped. Then, she took a breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take it out on you. I’ll be fine at work. It’ll give me something else to focus on.”

“Great,” I said, and I took her to the office. I told her to call me if she needed anything, and I called Robby as I was leaving the yard to let him know she was there but that he needed to call me if she needed anything.

He agreed and told me he’d have her home after work. He already knew she was living with me again. He asked how things went with her folks, and I told him what I knew, that she’d told me she’d burned that particular bridge. Or maybe her father had, knowing him.

He expressed his sympathy for her and said he’d keep an eye on her at work for me. After we hung up, I drove over to the club. I needed to get my mind off of things, too. I couldn’t help but worry about Lucy, but I needed to get my mind off it. I needed to stop worrying about every little detail of her life. She could handle it. She had handled everything else pretty well so far.

I pulled up and parked around back. As I walked inside, I nodded at the unmarked cop car sitting across the street. They’d been watching me pretty steadily since they’d heard about those girls trying to run drugs and prostitution through the club. I had tried to tell them that I was cleaning up, but they didn’t seem to want to believe me.

I walked in to find Molly setting up behind the bar and a couple of girls dancing on the stage, practicing their routines. The music was down low. I tapped the bar as I walked by.

“Hey, Blade,” Molly said as I passed by.

I walked into my office and checked to see if I had anything important coming up. I didn’t have any new messages, and there wasn’t anything on my desk for the day.

Then, I heard a bunch of shouting in the main room. The girls were shouting at a few male voices. I couldn’t clearly make out what was being said, but it wasn’t good. I grabbed the crowbar leaning against the wall next to my desk and headed out with it in my hand, ready to strike anyone with it. There was a machete behind the bar, and a gun tucked under my belt in case things really got real in there.

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” I called as I walked out of the back room.

“Freeze!” a cop shouted. They were in what looked like riot gear, like a SWAT team. What the hell was a SWAT team doing in my fucking club?

I threw my hands up and dropped the crowbar onto the floor. “Officers, what seems to be the problem?” I asked as one of them came behind me and pulled my hands down.

He cuffed me while the rest of them led the girls outside. “Walk,” he said, pushing me at my wrists.

“What for? What’s going on? Why am I being arrested?” I asked.

He didn’t say anything, but as I got outside, I saw that they were un-cuffing the girls and sending them on their way. They weren’t allowing them back into the club, but a few officers did walk in as the rest of us were kept on the sidewalk.

“Can’t anyone tell me what’s going on?” I shouted.

I was thrown in the back of a regular cop car, and the officer read me my rights from the door, informing me I was being arrested. He slammed the door and tapped the roof of the car. The officer in the driver seat pulled off, leaving the rest of them swarming around my club while the girls were being forced to leave. I could see Molly protesting as we pulled off.

“Is there any reason why no one will tell me what the charges are?” I asked the driver.

“You’ll find out down at the station. They’ll tell your lawyer, and the two of you can discuss how you’re going to handle it. Other than that, I’ve got nothing for you,” the officer said.

“Of course not,” I said under my breath, watching my words closely, knowing that anything I said was going to end up being used against me in court. I shifted my weight so the cuffs were a little less uncomfortable and waited to get to the station, where they were going to process me, let me make a phone call, and throw me in the slammer, all without telling me anything about why I was down there.

I knew the drill.

The police station looked a lot like the emergency room at the hospital downtown, just replacing the paramedics with cops. All the same characters came and went, most of whom all had the same stories. I walked in, and they had me ready to go. They knew me. It wasn’t my first rodeo, not by any means.

“Go ahead and let him use the phone,” a large black lady cop said when I walked in. I couldn’t remember her name. I always called her Officer Marge, or Large Marge because she was a big woman. We’d had a couple of run-ins over the years.

“Thanks, Officer Marge,” I called out to her as I was led away to the phone.

She shook her head and laughed. “We got you, Mr. Shaw,” she said.

Despite being on opposite sides of the law most of the time, I liked Large Marge. She didn’t take any shit. Seeing her made the pointless raid on my strip club a little less aggravating. It was more of an inconvenience now.

“You get one call,” the cop said as he sat me down and took off my cuffs.

“Thanks,” I said, spitting the word at him. I made a show of rubbing my wrists, even though the cuffs hadn’t really bothered me. He seemed like the kind of kid who let people in under his skin easily and I definitely wanted to play on that if I could.

I picked up the phone and dialed Robby’s cell phone.

“What the hell, Blade?” he asked when we were connected.

“They raided the club. I don’t know if they found anything or what they were even looking for, but the place is clean. Listen, I’m going to be in here until someone can post bail for me. It might take a night or two. Make sure Lucy is taken care of. Keep her at the clubhouse. I don’t want her at my house in case this is more than some overzealous cops, okay? I think someone’s behind it, so she definitely doesn’t need to be alone,” I told him.

“I’m on it. And I’ll go ahead and give Carothers a call for you, see if we can’t get him down there right away, money in hand,” he said.

Paul Carothers was our attorney, the best in town, possibly the best in the state. He handled everything for us. Money wasn’t a thing. He was on our payroll, so he was always getting cash even when we weren’t in trouble. We took care of our own.

“Great. I’ll be here,” I told him, hanging up the phone and signaling to the officer to come get me.

They threw me in a holding cell for the night. I had my own, which was a little concerning. Usually, I just ended up in the cell with all the other punks and delinquents. I rarely got special treatment. It made me wonder what they thought they had on me. There was nothing in the club that could have landed me behind bars. If so, they would have found it any of the millions of other times they ransacked the place.

I was being set up, and I knew who was behind it. It was obvious. It had to have been Lucy’s dad. But if he were that fast, it meant he really was as powerful as she said he was. And that meant the MC was about to have to go up against a very worthy foe. All he had was money, though. Someone like him couldn’t afford to meet us on the street and fight it out. He had to take us down like this, through law enforcement connections.

If he were connected enough to get me in jail that fast, though, I wondered if he were connected enough to keep my lawyer from showing up. I shook my head and laughed at the idea. We paid Carothers very well. There was no way his loyalty could have been shifted.

I yawned. I was in my home away from home, and contrary to popular belief, the jail cells were usually really quiet. Occasionally, some punk ass kid would show up and start running his mouth. The other guys in the cells quickly handled them. We didn’t like all that racket.

I kicked back on the metal bench and put my arms under my head. I knew there was a good chance I was going to be in for a while, for at least a night, before they were ready to release me on bail.

I tried not to run over all the questions I had while I lay on the bench. I wondered why they let the girls go and only arrested me. I wondered what the charges were going to be. I wondered if Lucy’s father was going to make an appearance before my lawyer had a chance to show up.

I yawned again, mostly to quiet the thoughts in my head, but they kept coming. I wondered if someone was going to drag me back to an interrogation room to tell me what the charges were and see if they could get any additional information out of me for Mr. Smithfield.

Lucy didn’t know it, but I knew who her father was. Bryan Smithfield was a prominent businessman. Every thug on the street knew his name. We couldn’t tell anyone how, but he wasn’t exactly a mystery. I was sure there was someone out there who had worked for him in the past, and that was probably how the rest of us had come to know who he was.

I sighed. It was obvious my mind wasn’t going to let me rest. It wasn’t going to give me a break. There was nothing else I could do other than rest, though, so I stayed on my back on the hard bench. I stared at the ceiling and waited – for sleep, for my lawyer or Mr. Smithfield to show up, for something.

Chapter 22

Lucy

I sat at the office and tried to distract myself with phone calls and conversation with the girls, but my mind just kept going back to my parents.

“Is everything all right?” Amelia asked, noticing the tears welling up in my eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. I wiped my face. My stomach was starting to hurt, like, really hurt. I put an arm across it.

“No, you don’t seem like everything’s all right,” Kelly said, getting up from her desk and walking over to me just in time to catch me as I doubled over, falling out of my chair.

“Oh my god,” Amelia gasped.

“Call Robby,” Kelly said, and I could hear it in her voice. She was experienced in dealing with emergencies through him. If anyone else in the office was connected to the MC, she was the most likely candidate.

I gripped her arm and gritted my teeth. My stomach was killing me. It felt like someone was stabbing me and twisting the knife. But the blade was hot.

“My baby,” I gasped.

“Did you call Robby?” Kelly yelled at the other two girls.

I could hear one of them talking in a hurried, hushed voice. I assumed she was talking to Robby on the phone.

“Yeah, Hannah called.”

“He’s on his way.”

“Hey, hang in there,” Kelly said. “You’re just under a lot of stress, and that’s upsetting your baby.” She stroked my hair and rubbed my back.

I wanted Blade, but I didn’t know if it was all right for me to call out his name in the office around the girls. I felt like they weren’t supposed to know about the MC, or that I was involved. Robby will know to call him, I told myself, if he doesn’t call him on the way to get me.

The door to the office opened, and Robby’s voice asked in a concerned tone, “Where is she?” It wasn’t panic I heard. It was urgency.

A moment later I was in his arms. My body shook as he stepped down from the trailer and hurried me to his truck. Then, I felt the cushions of the seat around me.

“Hold it down. If anyone calls for me, tell them I’m on a job site and I’ll call them back,” I heard him tell the other girls.

The doors closed on the truck, and we were moving.

“Just breathe, honey,” he said. Just like his girls, I knew Robby was used to handling emergencies. There was no telling what all he’d seen over the years.

“It hurts,” I told him as the pain was starting to subside.

“Probably just stress. Blade told me about going to talk to your parents today.”

I tried to sit up.

“No, stay down,” he told me. “If you sit up, it’ll probably get bad again. We’re almost there.”

A moment later, the truck was stopping, and Robby was carrying me into the ER. “She’s a few months pregnant and in pain,” he told the nurse behind the desk, and I was admitted immediately.

I lost track of time after that. I didn’t know if I blacked out from the pain or if they gave me something to sedate me, but the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a room. I was hooked up to several machines to monitor my body. I was sore, and I was cold. The room was freezing. They had several thin blankets on me, and I pulled them up as far as I could before getting them in the way of the wires and monitors.

I looked around the room. It was a private room with a large window looking out over the streets downtown. I had a beautiful view of the gray parking deck next to the building I was in. I watched the cars come and go.

“How do you feel?” Robby asked.

“Good…where’s Blade?” I asked.

“He’s in jail, Lucy,” Robby said with a hand on my ankle.

“No. What happened?” I asked. Something started beeping faster as I got upset, reminding me to calm down.

“The cops raided the club right after he got there after dropping you off at the office,” he said. “We don’t know anything yet. Apparently they let the girls go. I talked to Molly a little while ago. She called trying to figure out what happened. They won’t let anyone back in.”

“What the actual fuck?” I asked.

“We don’t know,” he said with a chuckle.

“Oh, we know,” I said. “We know exactly what happened. My father happened,” I told him, listening to the beeping increasing on the machines around me.

“Well, calm down. There’s nothing we can do until we can get his lawyer in there and get him out,” Robby told me.

I took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll try. Have the doctors said anything?” I asked.

“Not to me. I think they’re waiting on you to wake up. If you’re okay, I’ll go get them and make a few phone calls. I should have heard back from Blade or his lawyer by now. I need to see what’s going on.”

“Hurry back,” I told him as he walked out of the room. I knew why he hadn’t heard back from the lawyer. Their lawyer wasn’t going to be able to make it to see Blade. My father had already gotten to him, I was sure. He’d already convinced him not to go see Blade in jail and not to represent him. I was willing to put money on it, but it wasn’t really my place to do that.

A moment later, after Robby left the room, the door opened. I expected the doctor to come in, but the face that came around the corner was someone else. It was a young banker I hadn’t seen in months, but I would have recognized that brown hair and those brown eyes anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. The beeping started to pick up again as I scooted back on the back, trying to get away from the man approaching me.

“I’ve come to talk to you about us,” Dylan said.

I narrowed my eyes at him. My father had been busy after I left the house just a couple of hours ago, I guess. “What about us?” I snapped at him. “There is no us. You turned your back on me.”

“Well, not about us, really.” He sat on the edge of the bed, and I could see that he wasn’t wearing a wedding band anymore. There was a light spot on his ring finger where it should have been.

My heart skipped a beat. I had wanted to see that for so long. I wondered what had happened in the meantime to make them actually split. Knowing how cowardly he was, she’d probably left him, not the other way around.

“I want custody of our child when it’s born,” he said without looking at me. He was still too chicken shit to own up to anything. He couldn’t even look me in the eye while demanding custody of our baby.

“Not a chance,” I told him. “My fiancé is already going to adopt him.”

“Oh, that biker? Blade,” he said, spitting his name out. “I’m willing to fight you in court if need be, Lucy, and you know I’ll win. No one is going to side with a single woman living with a thug who has a history of gang violence and drugs. Oh, and he’s in jail again, from what I hear. I can’t wait to see what it’s for this time. The suspense is killing me.”

While I watched him, I wondered what I’d ever seen in him. And, honestly, watching his mannerisms, it was a miracle he’d even had sex with me to begin with. I was starting to wonder if I had even been his type or if he’d just been faking it for so long he didn’t know how to stop at the time.

“Did you think you were going to be able to raise this child in a motorcycle gang, Lucy? Did you really? You had to have known that going to your dad was the worst decision you could have made for yourself. You had to have known that he was going to call me and tell me what you were doing. You had to know he wasn’t going to let your new little boyfriend walk around a free man with so much going on around his little strip club. It’s a shame I never got to see that sweet little ass of yours onstage, though. I would have given you more than just a few dollars in your G-string.” He rubbed my thigh and slid his hand up a little too high for comfort.

“Look, there are guys from the MC here right now. If they catch you in here, you’re not going to be able to claim custody of our child when it’s born, so I suggest you leave,” I told him.

“Fine, but think about it. I want what’s mine.” He got up and walked out of the room, leaving me in there alone.

He was right. He had a good, respectable job. Chances were, even going through a divorce, he was still doing well for himself. He had so much more to offer than I did. I was in a bad situation to try to keep my baby. If I wanted to keep it, I was probably going to have to leave Blade and the MC behind, especially with Blade going back to jail.

I had to wonder what else he’d been in for. It was time to air everything out. I needed to know what was going on, what had gone on before. My whole world was crumbling again. I didn’t know what to do.

The beeping increased, and something else started beeping loudly. I was alone and no one was coming in.

A moment later, a couple of nurses came in to check on me. Robby followed them, and I looked to him for help.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

The nurses, thinking he was talking to them, told him I was just excited and needed to relax. They hit me with another dose of whatever was keeping the pain at bay, and I felt myself starting to mellow out almost immediately.

“Is that safe for the baby?” he asked.

“Yeah, we’re giving her small doses of a very light sedative so we don’t harm the baby,” one of the nurses said.

I ignored her. I didn’t want to think about any drugs that could have been harmful to my baby. My baby. Mine and Blade’s baby, not Dylan’s.

After the nurses left, Robby came to my side. “Look, is everything all right?” he asked in a very serious tone. His voice was that of someone who would have hurt anyone who tried to hurt me. I could hear it in there.

“Dylan, the baby’s father,” I said.

“Was he here?”

I nodded.

“When?”

“Right before the beeping.” I was so tired I could barely talk.

“You rest,” Robby told me. “I’ll get some guys up here so you’re not alone. We’ll take care of you.”

He patted me on my shoulder and walked away across the room. I closed my eyes and listened as his voice drifted off. He was on the phone. The beeping had come back in, but it was the light, rhythmic beeping of my heart. It matched my breathing. I didn’t think they would have given me much for pain with a baby, but I trusted they knew what they were doing. If there had been any real emergency, the doctor would have already been in to see me.

Chapter 23

Blade

“Your attorney is here,” the guard said as he opened the door to the holding cell.

“That was fast,” I told him as I got up.

“Just come with me,” he said. He didn’t seem amused to be escorting me to see my lawyer.

“Cuffs?” I asked. “I mean, have you read my history?”

That shocked him and stirred some reaction in his eyes. He pulled out the cuffs and secured my wrists.

“Thanks. I feel safer now,” I told him. I was being a total smartass and keeping myself entertained. I knew it was only a matter of time before I was out of there.

All my hopes were shattered when I walked into the room where my attorney was waiting for me and saw one of my brothers from the MC. It was Shade, the guy we usually sent to handle sketchy shit, but I didn’t know what kind of sketchy business we were going to be able to get into at the police station. I sat down with him, and the guard left the room.

“Okay, what’s the story?” I asked him.

“Robby sent me. Carothers isn’t coming. That’s all he would say,” Shade told him.

“Has anyone told Brick? We need to make sure he’s no longer being funded if he’s going to let Bryan Smithfield get to him. I’m assuming that’s why he’s not coming. Bryan gets his hands into everything,” I said.

“Pretty much. That’s what it looks like. I’ll check when I get back. I don’t know if anyone has talked to Brick since you went in,” Shade told me.

“Impossible.”

“Man, it’s all happened pretty quickly. You know, this isn’t the only thing we’re dealing with right now. Lucy’s in the hospital.”

“What?! Is she okay?” I asked, trying to remain calm so I didn’t upset anyone in the jail.

“Yeah, it looks like she was just having some pain. Stress, probably upset the baby or something. They’ve got her on fluids and they’re keeping her for observation,” he assured me.

“Okay. Whatever it is, tell Robby and my brothers that I’ll cover whatever the insurance doesn’t, but make sure Hammer and Sketch are up there, okay?”

“Got it. I think Robby’s already called them.”

“Good.” I took a deep breath. What else could go wrong? “Any other news?” I asked.

“Bail has been denied,” he told me.

“No way. Why?” I asked.

“Judge’s orders.”

“Let me guess. The judge is friends with Bryan Smithfield,” I said. “We’ve got to do something about this guy.”

“Just say when. We’ve got people ready. I’m sure Brick will be on board once we let him know everything,” Shade said.

“Unfortunately, we’re going to have play it right if we want to get him. Nothing yet, just wait.”

“Do you want me to let them know to get you a public defender?” he asked.

“No, not at all. Have Robby call some of the other organizations. Call some of the other MCs especially. Someone has to have a lawyer beyond Bryan’s reach,” I explained. “I’m not giving up yet.”

“Will do.”

“Are you taking notes, Shade?” I asked. “I don’t expect you to remember all of this.”

“Right, right,” he said, pulling a notepad out of his briefcase.

I laughed. “Where’d you get the get-up, man?” He was dressed in a nice, conservative gray suit with a white shirt and red tie, not his normal attire. Shade was almost always dressed like any other street thug. He wore baggy jeans, black shirts, and often hid his face in hoodies. He was really just a street rat who handled business that didn’t need to be seen.

“One of the guys hooked me up. You like? I feel ridiculous,” he said.

“You look ridiculous, honestly, but that’s only because it’s you.” I went to pat him on the shoulder but my cuffs kept my hands together. I laughed when I realized I was still cuffed.

“All right. So, get Hammer and Sketch at the hospital to keep an eye on Lucy. Talk to Brick about everything that’s going on. Cancel Carothers’s money. Get Robby on finding you another attorney through other MCs,” he said as he wrote everything down on paper to remind himself.

“And don’t forget, now. Also, talk to Brick about Bryan Smithfield. We need to do something about him,” I reminded him.

“Right, but tell him to wait.”

“Exactly.”

I watched him write everything down in his fast, sloppy handwriting.

“Did they tell you why they brought me in?” I asked him.

“Yeah, drugs,” he said nonchalantly.

“Drugs? What the hell?” I asked, trying to keep my voice down.

“Yeah, they said they found some at the club.” What really amazed me was that, for Shade, this wasn’t a big deal. Shade dealt with drugs all day every day. He didn’t have a legitimate job or service he performed outside the MC. He worked the streets for us. That was all he did, so if someone said drugs, it didn’t affect him at all.

For me, that was a serious charge. The club was a front. It was squeaky damn clean, too. It had to be. I didn’t want to draw any attention to the money we laundered through it for the MC. Since so much of what we did in the club depended on money the patrons threw at the girls, it was easy to inflate those numbers a little, especially if I could show that I skimmed some off the top every night.

“Man, I haven’t ever had drugs in that place,” I told Shade.

“They’re saying they found a pretty good stash. What about those girls a while back, the ones you had to fire?” he asked.

“No, we had the place searched, remember? I had a couple of guys come in and scour the club. If the girls had left anything behind, we would have found it. Man, that place was clean,” I insisted.

“Then, I don’t know,” Shade said.

“Bryan Smithfield,” I said. “He framed me. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. That’s Lucy’s dad. Lucy told him we’re seeing each other. Then, right after that everything went to shit. Man, I’m telling you, we have to watch our asses with this guy. He’s serious business,” I told him.

“I’ll make sure I talk to Brick about that for you, as well,” he assured me.

“Do that. And tell Robby he better get me a real lawyer. Nothing good is going to happen if I go with a public defender.”

About that time, the door opened and the cop came back in. “Time’s up,” he said.

“What do you mean? Since when?” I protested.

“Since now. That’s not your attorney.”

Another cop came in and picked Shade up by his arm. He snatched away from the officer and started to walk out on his own, followed by the police. We shared a look as he walked past me. Everything was going to be handled. I just needed to be patient, as always.

“You’re lucky we don’t lock his ass up, too, but you’re in bad enough shape already,” my officer said.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I always am. Besides, I’m being framed.”

“So is everyone else in here, man. Save it for the judge,” he said, laughing.

“I love how none of you flunkies take me seriously down here. That’s good,” I said, chuckling. The state pen, however, was a different story. The local cats looked at me like just another essentially harmless street thug. Those state guards knew why they called me Blade. That was no joke.

“Well, we see your type all the time, man. You think you’re big and bad, and then you end up in custody, and you’re nothing but hot air,” he said, pushing me back into the cell.

“Hey, when are you guys going to move me to a real cell? And what about these damn cuffs?” I called after him as he walked off.

“You’re so big and bad, Blade, you get out of them,” he yelled back.

I looked down at them. I probably could have if I tried. They weren’t on very tight, but the last thing I needed to do was slide my hands through a pair of handcuffs and get myself in real trouble. I could get out from under framing, easily. That wasn’t a big deal, but trying to escape, or whatever they would have billed getting out of the cuffs as, wasn’t worth it.

I sat back down on the bench and realized that my “attorney” had shown up the same day and got all the information he had just a few hours after I’d been locked up. That had to be record time for me. They loved to make me wait for anything. It was just the way they treated us because we were in a motorcycle club. They tried to keep us in as long as they could for any minor thing, to try to break up the gang or discourage us from going back.

Part of being in an MC like the Vicious Thrills was having access to legal networks and not-so-legal networks that worked in our favor. Having an organization meant we had access to resources other, more common street thugs didn’t have. Locking us up was like locking up successful businessmen.

Bryan Smithfield, however, was turning into a royal pain in my ass. Carothers had been with us for a long time. He was supposed to be untouchable, but Bryan had touched him. That told me the kind of power that bastard had. He’d also had a substantial amount of drugs found at my club not even an hour after I had left his house with his daughter. He didn’t realize what kind of mess he was stepping in.

Sure, he had put me behind bars, and he had sent my girls home. Hopefully, Molly had called Robby so they could still get paid through the MC while they were out of work. Sure, he probably had some of the doctors on his payroll, which was why I wanted men down there all the time with Lucy in the hospital. But, his problem was going to be that he couldn’t get to all of us at the same time.

Shade wasn’t the only sketchy member we had. There were lots of street cats who didn’t wear their colors because they didn’t want to be recognized. Shade was sort of their king, but there were plenty of them, and if Smithfield wanted to pick a fight with us, he was going to have some serious trouble.

Lucky for him – and lucky for me, I supposed – there wasn’t much I was able to do behind bars, not until Brick knew what was going on and I had talked with a real lawyer. Of course, by having them lock me up alone, he obviously didn’t realize he was giving me time to stew in it.

People like me didn’t need to sit and think about what we could do to people like him. It never ended well for those people. I couldn’t wait to get out or at least get the word out. Bryan Smithfield was going to suffer. He’d picked a fight with the wrong one.

He was going to pay for the way he’d treated his daughter. And, then, he was going to pay for what he was doing to me. He underestimated how dangerous we were. He probably thought he was safe in his little white, boxed off neighborhood. He probably had a top-of-the-ling security system in his home, too.

Clueless.

He probably had no idea I had been sitting in his driveway just that morning. That meant any member of the MC knew how to get back to his place. All I had to do was let the information slip about which house, which neighborhood.

Before I knew it, I was sitting on the bench with the handcuffs in my hand. I had slipped out of cuffs so many times I didn’t even feel it anymore when I squeezed my hands through them, and the idiot who had put them on me didn’t make them nearly tight enough. It wasn’t like I had small hands to begin with.

I sat there and played with them, taking my mind off Bryan Smithfield. I waited.

Chapter 24

Lucy

They kept me overnight for observation. They said everything was fine, that the stress I’d been putting myself under was too much for my pregnant body. I was lectured on not going to the doctor to check up on my progress. They performed a couple of ultrasounds to check on the baby and make sure it was healthy— He was healthy.

I was going to have a baby boy. I hadn’t even realized I was far enough along for them to tell the sex of the child. When they told me, my first thought was to tell Blade we were going to have a son, but I had to stop myself. The child wasn’t his. And I reminded myself of Dylan’s visit. No one could know that I was having a boy. I didn’t want it getting back to either one of them. If Dylan knew I was having a boy, he’d probably try harder to get the child from me. If Blade knew, it would just break his heart that much more.

I couldn’t stay. I had to leave. I had to get away from everyone. I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t go back to Blade. And I wasn’t about to pursue Dylan again. It was time for me to break free of everyone else’s expectations, wants, and desires. It was time to do what was best for me, and what was going to be best for my son.

“Well, Lucy, everything looks great,” the doctor said, coming into my room for the last time. “I’ll have the nurse come around with your discharge papers in a few minutes, and I guess you’re good to go after that. Do you have any questions?”

I didn’t. I was ready to be out of the hospital bed. I had been under the scrutiny of the doctors, the nurses, and members of the MC. Robby had been there, but he’d brought Blade’s actual brothers in to watch me – Hammer and Sketch. They looked like younger versions of their big brother, serving as constant reminders that I was about to stab him in the back after everything he’d done for me.

When news came that I was being discharged, Robby sent the brothers out of the room. I overheard him tell them he was going to be taking me to the clubhouse later to make sure I was safe.

“I need to grab my things from Blade’s house,” I told Robby when he came back in the room. I wanted him to know I had overheard his conversation, but I didn’t want to say anything directly to him about it.

“Yeah, we can do that.” He made no apologies for talking to the guys in the hallway.

I got up and changed from my hospital gown into my clothes in the bathroom while we waited on the nurse to come in. It occurred to me that my pack was probably still in Blade’s car. I’d grabbed it before going to see my father, and we hadn’t stopped by the house after that.

“What happened to Blade’s car when he was arrested?” I asked Robby when I came out.

“They left it at the club. We had a guy pick it up. Why?”

“Is it at his house?” I asked.

He narrowed his eyes. He was looking out for one of his brothers. Blade had been put in jail, and even though he didn’t hold a special title in the MC, everyone treated him like he was up there with Brick. He’d been locked up, most likely on bogus charges, most likely because of my dad, and I was starting to ask a bunch of questions after being hospitalized for abdominal pain related to my pregnancy, that had turned out to be nothing at all other than just my body’s reaction to stress.

“Yeah, we dropped it off at the house,” he said in a guarded tone.

“My backpack is in it. It has my things from the clubhouse because I was supposed to be moving back in with him,” I said with a laugh. I shook my head.

“What?” He almost looked embarrassed that he’d been so obvious about his suspicions.

“Just all this back and forth,” I told him. “From my house to his, to the clubhouse, back to his house, but not quite. It’s a mess. Is it always this messy?”

“It can be,” he said cryptically.

I nodded. Fair enough.

When the nurse handed me my paperwork, Robby declined her offer to have someone walk with us downstairs, out of the hospital. He insisted that he had me and we were fine. I was beginning to understand what his function within the club must have been. When he spoke, people didn’t just listen. They backed up to listen.

His truck was parked along the curb. He opened the door for me and made sure I was in comfortably before closing it and getting in on the other side. On the way to Blade’s house, he explained to me that he was going to take me to the clubhouse afterwards. They all felt like it was safer to have me where they could keep an eye on me.

“It’s not that we don’t trust you,” Robby said apologetically. “We just don’t want your father to do something stupid, or whoever’s after Blade, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” I assured him, keeping up the charade.

“Okay. I don’t want you to think it’s because we think you’re in on it.” Was he still upset that I’d caught him looking at me suspiciously back at the hospital? I found that incredibly amusing.

He parked in the driveway, behind the Charger. The car was unlocked. I reached into the back and grabbed my backpack. I opened the bag and pretended I was checking to make sure everything was in it.

“I need to get in the house,” I told him as I closed it. “Need to grab a few more things.”

Robby had a key. I wondered who all had keys to his house in the MC. It seemed strange, but, at the same time, they were so communal and protective of each other, I just shrugged it off as something they would have done.

He let me in, but he stayed outside. The MC had obviously made sure the house was free of any threat they perceived from whoever had framed Blade. I felt panicked, knowing he was waiting for me right outside the door.

I wasn’t going back to the clubhouse with him. I wanted to keep my son, and staying with Blade and the Vicious Thrills meant losing him to Dylan. I had to get out of the house without being noticed.

I didn’t actually have anything I needed to get from inside that was mine. I had come in because in Blade’s closet, there was a false panel in the wall above his clothes. Behind that panel was a small space, like a safe, where he kept an unregistered gun and a stack of money, just in case. He’d shown me those things one night, telling me there was always the possibility that things could get hairy.

I didn’t need the gun. Rather, I didn’t want the gun. It might not have been a bad idea to grab it, but guns always felt like a bad idea, and I wouldn’t have known how to use it even if I’d taken it. The cash was in a thick wad of what looked like mostly twenties, secured with a thick rubber band. I pulled it out and stuffed it into my pack.

I closed the panel on the wall and went to his desk. I found a piece of paper and left him a note apologizing for taking the money but promising I was going to pay him back. I told him that, one day, I would be able to explain to him what I had done and why I had to leave. I left the note on the desk and crept downstairs.

Robby was still standing in the doorway. As long as he was watching me from the front of the house, though, I knew I had the back of the house. I hurried through the back door, made my way across the patio, and went through the pool house at the back end of the property. I knew I was going to come out in someone else’s backyard, but I didn’t have a choice.

I had never done anything like I was doing. I felt like a criminal, slinking through people’s yards, keeping low, and trying to avoid being seen, even in broad daylight. I hurried along the edges of the yards until I could get out onto the next street. I wondered how much time I had before Robby realized I was missing.

Once I hit the main road, I knew I had to be careful not to get spotted, but as I made my way back into town, that task was going to be easier. Once the sidewalks through Blade’s neighborhood became the sidewalks in town, I was going to blend in with the crowd, as long as I didn’t get spotted first.

I kept a close watch over my shoulder, making sure I hadn’t been followed. I couldn’t believe I was making my escape, and it looked like I was actually going to pull it off as I walked into the bus stop.

I tried to look natural as I walked up to the counter to get a bus ticket.

“What’s the next bus leaving?” I asked.

“I’m sorry,” the kid behind the counter said.

“Look, I don’t care where I’m going. I need a ticket out of here. I need a ticket for the next bus leaving town,” I explained.

I could see from his face that my request wasn’t as common as I would have hoped. Or, if it was, he considered a red flag.

“Look, my abusive boyfriend is after me. I think he saw me come in here. If he catches me, I don’t know what he’s going to do.” I worked up some fake tears for him, impressed by my skill at manipulating him. I had never lied quite like that before, and it seemed to be working.

“If you need, I can have security or the authorities help you,” he said.

“No, they’ll just send me home with him again because I don’t have any bruises from being beaten. They never help.” I was getting desperate. If he didn’t give me a ticket soon, I didn’t know what I was going to do. Even though I was making up the abusive boyfriend story on the spot, it really did feel like it was only a matter of time before the MC found me. If they took me back to Blade, I was going to lose my baby.

The boy wasn’t buying it. It was only a matter of time before he tipped off a supervisor.

“Come on, just help me out,” I begged.

He looked down at the computer screen in front of him and sighed. He told me the next bus was leaving in five minutes, and it was making a stop about a hundred miles away at a small bus station. I thanked him, got the ticket, and left, figuring I’d be able to hop another bus when I reached the next stop.

He looked relieved when I left the counter and headed for the bus. I kept checking over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me. So far, no one had spotted me. No one knew where I was or where I was going. I had paid in cash, so the kid behind the counter didn’t even know who I was.

I was on my way to simply disappearing from everyone’s lives. I was nervous and a little scared of what lay ahead at my next stop, but I felt free for the first time in my life.

Chapter 25

Blade

Robby had managed to find me a new lawyer through another MC, the Ghosts. I was escorted from my cell, again, to a room where we could meet privately, which I knew meant we were the only two in the room, but there was probably someone sitting on the other side of the window listening in to us. So, there wasn’t much we could say to each other.

Elizabeth “Liza” Collins walked in dressed in a black suit and skirt with a red shirt under her jacket. She had hair the same deep red as her shirt. She was cold. Her presence chilled the room. She was legendary. There was no question about whether or not I could trust her. She’d won a handful of impossible cases, keeping guys out of prison who probably should have gone in. She was also known for sticking up for MCs when the law got out of hand with us.

Everyone wanted to know what The Ghosts were paying to keep her on their payroll. Someone like Liza shields couldn’t have come cheap. I personally wondered what it was going to cost the Vicious Thrills to have her for me.

“Before we talk, Mr. Shaw, I am sure you are aware our conversation is likely being recorded by the police. In the interest of maintaining our confidentiality, I’m going to ask you to keep your answers simple and not to divulge any information today that could incriminate you on these or any pending charges,” Liza said coolly when she sat down.

“I was thinking the same thing,” I said, letting a confident smirk play across my face. I liked her. We needed her on our side.

“Good. Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, I must admit,” she said with a genuine light in her eyes. She glanced around the room. “Honestly, I don’t know if I should regret the circumstances or be thankful for them,” she added.

“Funny.” I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. Liza had requested no shackles for our meeting, and, surprisingly, the police complied.

“Well, let’s get down to business,” she said. “I’m sure they’re going to cut our time short. The judge has it out for you, which is usually the case in biker cases. It’s just because you’re in an MC. I’m going to talk to him to see if we can’t get you out on bail.”

“Thanks. I understand it will probably be high,” I told her. “I can pay anything.”

“I’m aware. Also, we need to establish your innocence and show you were framed. You were framed, weren’t you?” she asked.

I laughed. “I’m afraid so. I had some girls who I suspected were up to stuff like this. The cops had been putting some pressure on me to do something about it. They told me they were convinced there were drugs in my club and that there were a couple of girls trying to turn tricks on the side using the club. I got rid of the girls and had the MC do a full sweep of the place to make sure there wasn’t anything in there. The place was clean,” I explained.

“Right. Robby told me about the problem with the girls,” she said. “Now, if drugs were found, is there any evidence that may show they don’t belong to you?”

“Yeah, there are security tapes. If anyone planted anything, it should be on those tapes,” I said. “Of course, if nothing was found, I’m pretty sure it’s on there, as well,” I added.

“How do I get the tapes?” Liza asked.

“Talk to Robby. He can get you in there.”

“Great. They said they actually found something, so I’m sure there is evidence somewhere. If it was planted, like you said, we’ll find something on those tapes to get the case dropped. Either way, once we get you out of here, we can talk more,” she said, standing.

“That’s it?” I asked. “No strategy or anything like that?”

“Nothing for now. Right now, my biggest concern is getting the charges dropped or getting you out of here on bail,” Liza told me, standing above me. “I’ll let you know what happens.” She walked to the door and knocked on it.

An officer came in to escort her back down the hallway while another came in to grab me and take me back to my cell. We didn’t say a word. I wasn’t really in the mood to antagonize the cops, and there wasn’t much to say between us anyway. I walked quietly back to my cell and sat on the bunk. I had been moved to a real cell, no longer contained in the holding cell with just the bench. I had a bed now. I was moving up in the world.

I waited. I knew nothing was going to happen overnight. I needed to get comfortable and wait patiently. I wondered how Lucy was doing. Surely, she’d been released by the hospital by then. She was probably back at the clubhouse wondering what was going on with me. I knew the guys had probably talked to her about it. Robby certainly would have told her why he was taking her to the clubhouse instead of back to my place. Once I was out, I was going to fix everything.

Liza came back the next afternoon. I was surprised to see her again so soon. We met in the same room. I was led in, like before, without any shackles. She was already waiting for me, in another black suit. She sat in the chair on her side of the table as the officer led me to the other side and sat me down. He walked out of the room after that, leaving us mostly alone.

“I’ve got news,” she said.

“Is it good news or bad news?” I asked. The way she said she had news so simply and plainly made me nervous.

“It’s interesting news. I got the tapes yesterday and delivered them to the court. Today, the judge said he hasn’t seen them, and when he tried to pull the records, they weren’t there. They hadn’t been logged,” she told me.

“That would definitely be bad news.”

“It also lends credence to your position, that you were framed. Unfortunately, since there is no official record that they were even delivered to the court, there’s no official record that they were lost. So, the security footage doesn’t help us at all in court.”

“Okay, so what’s next?” I asked, growing impatient. If the footage was “lost” by the court, it meant Lucy’s dad had someone on the inside, someone besides the cops who framed me for him. It made everything a little harder.

“Well, I’ve filed to have the logs themselves released into evidence.”

“Can you even do that?” I asked.

She just smiled at me, like I should have known the answer to that already. “I’m going to keep working this case. I’m going to continue looking for angles that I can work to get you out of here so we can build your defense or find a way to get the case dropped,” she explained.

“Thanks, I guess,” I told her.

“Don’t act like this is charity, Blade. It’s my job. While I do focus on MCs because of the way the law treats you guys, I don’t do this out of the kindness of my heart, so no thanks necessary. Got it?”

I’d never been scolded for being grateful before. It was a new experience for me.

“I talked to Robby. He told me what you guys think is really happening here. I’m going to do some digging to see what I can come up with. If that’s what’s really happening here, we’re going to get to the bottom of it, and he’s going down for what he’s doing,” she said, and I believed her. I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her wrath.

“Just get me out of here,” I told her. “I can do a lot more on the outside than I can in here.”

“That’s my main focus right now, Blade.”

I was surprised she was using my street name so much. I figured for the sake of keeping everything professional, she would have used my real name more than she was. However, given her confidence, she probably didn’t feel the need to dance around what was really going on any more than absolutely necessary.

I sighed. I was getting anxious. The longer I was locked up and the longer my lawyer was tied up in the court’s little games, trying to get me out, the stronger the case against me seemed to be getting. The longer I was out of the way, basically, the more opportunity Bryan Smithfield had to work against me to keep me in and keep me away from his daughter.

That wasn’t going to fly, though. I was going to get out and put a stop to all of it. The woman sitting across from me was going to handle it. I had complete confidence in Liza’s ability.

“All right, make it happen,” I told her, tapping the table. This time, I was the one who got up to call the meeting to an end. I walked over to the door and tapped on it to let them know we were done.

The door opened, and the officer glanced past me to Liza, confused by the fact that I was calling an end to the meeting or making sure she was okay.

I smiled at him and shrugged. “She’s all right,” I said. “Our meeting is just over. Take me back to my cell.”

I was led back to my cell as an officer entered the room behind us to escort Liza out. If she had thought anything of my early exit from our talk, she hadn’t shown it on her face. She’d just sat there as I got up to walk away. If anyone understood what I was thinking or how I felt, it was Liza. She’d worked with so many of us over the years that she was probably thinking the same things we were.

I had to keep my mind busy. I was starting to get worried about everything again. I had to have something to occupy my time. It did me no good to sit around thinking about how Mr. Smithfield had been able to manipulate every detail of my case so far. At least I had a lawyer who was beyond his reach, and I knew the guys in the Vicious Thrills were beyond his reach. Hell, he hadn’t even been able to find Lucy through us, and we had her while he was asking questions.

Once I got out, I knew Lucy was going to be my only real shot at taking her father down. I was going to have to use her to get to him. It was great knowing that, but, at the same time, I dreaded having to use her like that, especially against her own dad. I knew she still loved him. I knew it still bothered her that she’d been cut off. No one liked to be shoved aside by their folks. At the same time, he was drawing some pretty serious lines for her.

Then, it occurred to me that while I was locked away, he was probably going to try to get to her. He’d already gone looking for her once, and their little talk before the raid on the club had gone poorly. I had even more reason to get out. Even with Lucy staying at the clubhouse, I wasn’t sure if she were completely safe from her father’s influence.

Unfortunately, all I could do was wait to hear back from Liza about my bail. I lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, knowing my world was more than likely falling apart outside the jail.

Chapter 26

Lucy

I stepped off the bus in a small town I’d never been through before. It was one of those places off the beaten path where people always seemed to end up in the movies, right before they started their new lives.

But there wasn’t much about the bus terminal that made me feel hopeful. There were people sleeping on the benches outside the bus station, and a few inside. Businessmen and homeless people slept almost side by side. Some were waiting on the bus. Others were just trying to stay somewhere safe.

Afternoon was turning to evening. I saw a suit stand up and stretch before grabbing a couple of bags that were sitting with him and heading for the bus. I walked in and found a seat. I hadn’t decided if I wanted to take another bus, or where I wanted to go if I did.

I didn’t even know where I was.

I sat and dropped my backpack at my feet. I looked around for anything that would have told me the name of the town where I’d stopped, but I didn’t see anything. I saw a couple of vending machines and a few people milling about in the large lobby. It was silent except for the occasional detached voice echoing off the hard tile floor.

I pulled out my phone. I didn’t have any calls from Blade. I figured he would have been out of jail at least by the time I stepped off the bus. Apparently, they had him on something serious. Either that or he wasn’t going to call.

Robby had called a few times. The MC must have realized I wasn’t at Blade’s house. I figured they’d learned that by about the time he called me the first time. I didn’t listen to any of the voicemails, but I imagined him standing outside the door to Blade’s sprawling home, checking his phone to see how long I’d been inside.

He’d probably called out for me before walking through the entire house to find me. He probably didn’t know about Blade’s emergency stash. He probably hadn’t found the letter I’d left. Still, after searching the house, he’d probably called the clubhouse to see if I had somehow gone there without him. When he realized I wasn’t turning up, that was probably when he’d called me.

I felt bad for deserting him like I had. He probably felt like I’d made a fool out of him. To make matters worse, if Blade was still in jail, he probably didn’t even know I was gone yet. I assumed the only person they would have allowed him to talk to would have been his lawyer, if he even had one.

My father knew all the lawyers. He knew everybody. He had friends on the force, which was definitely how Blade wound up behind bars. He even knew all the judges. Blade had all of the odds stacked against him, and I was sitting in a small bus station a hundred miles or more away, unable to do anything to help him.

I wasn’t completely unable to help him. I had carried the phone he’d given me with me on my trip, so I supposed I wasn’t completely ready to move on and let go. At any point, I could have called Robby or any of the other guys in the MC to let them know where I was. I could have called my dad to let him know what was going on and try to make an arrangement with him to have the charges dropped.

I was starting to wonder if maybe I was making a mistake by hopping the bus and leaving town. Maybe I had acted a little hastily in leaving the way I did. Maybe I should have tried to go home. I could have reenrolled in school. I could have done whatever needed to be done to put my life back on track and to stop disrupting Blade’s life.

By leaving, I had done exactly what my father wanted me to do. He wanted me away from Blade and the MC, at the very least. He wasn’t going to help me, but he did not want me seeking help from men like them. That much was obvious.

The whole bit with Dylan coming to see me had just been a ploy to get me away from them. Unfortunately, I’d also left them wide open to his attacks by getting out of the way. There was no way they could defend themselves against someone who had a hand in every pocket in the city. I hoped the networks they’d built through the MC were able to provide them with ways around my father.

I turned my phone over in my hand while I sat and thought about how I could have helped. Taking Blade’s money and running wasn’t going to help him. It was supposed to help me. It was supposed to help my baby boy, to keep him out of his father’s hands.

I knew Dylan didn’t really want our son. How in the hell was he going to explain to his wife – or ex-wife, considering the ring was gone – that he suddenly had another baby she hadn’t given birth to? No; what seemed more likely was that my father was going to take custody from Dylan once Dylan got the baby from me. I had no idea how that would have worked, but it seemed like something my father would do. Dylan wasn’t interested in our son any more than he was interested in getting back with me.

As night settled in, the bus station quieted down. Soon, there were only the rugged homeless people sleeping on the benches outside. Everyone had cleared out of the main room. Even most of the employees behind the ticket counter seemed to have disappeared. I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know if they were going to lock up and send me outside or what, but I figured as long as no one said anything to me, I was fine inside.

I didn’t have anywhere to go. I could have checked into a hotel nearby with the money I’d taken. I could have grabbed another ticket to another destination, hopped another bus, and found my way to another city, putting more distance between myself and the MC, more distance between myself and Dylan. I could have gone home, back to Blade and the rest of the Vicious Thrills.

I realized I was in the same position I’d been in when I first met Blade. I had no home, no place to go, and no one to call. But this time I had money, and I actually did have someone to call for help— just not locally. They would have been there as quickly as possible to pick me up. They might have even had people nearby to take me in for the night until someone could come get me in the morning. I started to seriously consider calling Robby.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but we’re about to shut down for the night,” a young voice said to me.

I looked up from my phone and saw a young man in a uniform. He looked nervous for having to approach me. I’d never heard of a bus station that wasn’t open all night.

“Won’t there be other buses coming through?” I asked him.

“If there are, they just drop people off outside. We aren’t as busy as the bus stations in the big city. We only run a few buses a day for the most part. Our main function is letting people connect to other lines to go to different places,” he explained.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go right now,” I told him.

“I’m sorry. We can help you make a hotel reservation for the night over at the desk,” he offered.

I looked at the counter and then back outside. I didn’t know where I was or how I was going to get to a hotel from the terminal. I also didn’t know how I was going to get back to catch another bus in the morning.

“What time does the next bus run in the morning?” I asked.

“Early. Our first bus usually departs around six forty-five,” he told me.

“I guess I’ll join the people sitting outside, then,” I said, grabbing my pack from the floor. I stood up and started to walk toward the benches outside.

“I really don’t recommend sleeping out here. It’s not all that safe,” the young man said behind me as I walked away.

“Neither is what I was leaving behind,” I said under my breath as I walked through the door. I walked along the platform lined with benches. Most of them were already taken.

Judging by what I could see of the city from the bus station, I was probably in the company of the entire homeless population. It didn’t look like the town was big enough to have many more people living outdoors. Then again, I could only see a small portion of it from where we were.

It was likely that the terminal was on the outskirts of town. It stood next door to a convenience store at the corner of the intersection of two highways. In the yellow streetlight standing at the corner, I couldn’t see anything else near us. There also wasn’t much traffic, rendering the night almost completely silent. I could hear the bell on the door of the gas station every time someone walked in or out.

I found it hard to believe that a town without a twenty-four-hour bus station could support a twenty-four-hour gas station, especially considering that I hadn’t heard a single car pass by since I’d walked outside. It seemed like a bit of a waste, but at the same time, if I needed anything in the middle of the night, it was just a short walk away.

I found an unoccupied bench and lay down, using my pack as a pillow. The men and women sleeping on the other benches made me feel sort of safe. They didn’t all look ragged and worn out. There were a couple of people dressed nicely, probably waiting on a late-night bus that was supposed to be passing through or the first bus of the morning, as if they believed they were going to miss it if they waited anywhere else.

I pretended to sleep. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the night around the bus station – the occasional passing car, the ding of the bell at the gas station every time someone opened the door, the homeless man snoring three benches over, the hum of the lights. I kept my ears open to the night.

It was the first time I’d spent the whole night outdoors, on the street. There wasn’t a Blade or a Robby to save me in this small town. And even though the boy inside had tried to offer me a little help, I wasn’t prepared to take it.

I began to wonder if my pride and stubborn sense of independence were helping me at all. It was starting to seem like what I considered independence was just me being stubborn. The phone was in the front pocket of my jeans. All I had to do was take it out and call one of the names listed in my contacts. Any one of them probably knew who I was. Any one of them would have been more than happy to come up and get me from wherever the hell I’d found myself.

I didn’t even know where I was. How was I supposed to call someone to tell them to come get me? My original ticket had been for Albuquerque. It didn’t say anything about the stops along the way. I could have stayed on the bus and wound up somewhere out west, somewhere nicer than the little town where I’d stepped off the bus. But following the ticket meant making it easier for anyone to follow me, and that wasn’t part of my plan.

Chapter 27

Blade

“You’re out,” the cop at my cell door said as he slid the bars aside to let me out.

“I’m out?”

“Yes, your bail has been posted. You’re free.”

I stood up and started to walk toward the open cell door. “I didn’t even know the judge had set bail,” I said, suspicious that I was being set up.

“He set it this morning. Your lawyer must have convinced him somehow. Anyway, it’s been posted. You can’t stay. It’s time to go,” the officer explained.

I cautiously walked out of the cell and walked down the hallway to get my personal belongings before leaving. It seemed he was not setting me up for anything. I really was free to go. I grabbed my personal things up front and started toward the door. That was when I saw Robby waiting for me just outside.

“Come on. Let’s get in the truck. I’ve got some things to tell you,” Robby said, patting me on the back with one of his large hands.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” I told him as I walked with him out to the truck and climbed in the passenger side.

“You’re really not going to like it when I tell you.” He climbed in and started the engine.

My heart sank. Something had happened. “What is it?” I asked as I pulled the seatbelt across my chest and he pulled out of the parking spot.

“Lucy is missing.”

He’d just said three simple words, but they crushed me. I had been expecting to see her as soon as I got out. I had hoped to be able to check on her when I got home.

“Missing how?” I asked. My first thought was that her father had come and taken her somehow. I tried not to be immediately angry with Robby or my younger brothers. They’d all been tasked with watching her, but I didn’t know what happened, so there was no way to put it off on them.

“I took her to the house to grab a few things, and from what I could tell, she dipped out while I was waiting on her to come back out,” he explained.

“You don’t think someone kidnapped her?” I asked.

“How? She was in the house alone,” he told me.

I felt certain, just like Robby did, that no one else had been in the house at the time. It would have been impossible. Still, after everything, it seemed incredibly unlikely that she would have just left like that. I didn’t want to believe it. I almost wanted to believe she’d been taken from my house instead.

“Did you check the house?” I asked him. I needed someone to be mad at for it. Robby would have made an easy target, even though I really knew better.

“No, but tell me, would you have checked your house before letting her into it?” he snapped.

“You’re right, Robby. I’m sorry, man. I just can’t believe she’d run off like that,” I told him.

“I looked all over the house. If she was still in there and just hiding, she’s good.” He chuckled.

Robby and a few other guys had helped me comb the club for drugs after letting go of some of the girls. I had seen how thorough he could be. If he said he looked for someone in my house, I knew he had.

“Does the rest of the MC know she’s missing?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’ve got everyone looking for her. No one has been able to turn up anything.”

“How in the hell does someone disappear so completely?” I asked him. Of course, she could have had some help, I thought.

“Want me to drop you by the house or take you to the clubhouse?” he asked.

“Drop me at the house. I’ll head to the clubhouse later. Tell Brick I want to talk to him about what we’re going to do about Bryan Smithfield, Lucy’s father,” I told him.

When he let me out of the truck at my house, I went inside immediately and started looking for Lucy myself. I wanted to find some clue as to where she’d gone or why she’d left. I didn’t notice anything anywhere in the house. Nothing was out of place.

Then, it occurred to me to look in my closet. I had told her about the emergency cash I kept hidden behind the false panel in the wall at the end of the shelf on top of my clothes. If she’d left the way she supposedly did, she would have taken that money.

I pulled the panel back and, sure enough, the gun lay there undisturbed, but the money was gone. I closed the panel and started looking around the rest of the room. I found a note on my desk from her. Her beautiful handwriting stretched out across plain white paper.

My love,

I’m sorry I had to take your emergency cash. I will pay you back as soon as I’m able to. I hope to be able to tell you one day why I have to leave this way. I’m sorry, but it’s for the best. It’s not your fault, and it’s nothing you did.

Lucy.

The note was short and sweet, and it told me enough to know she’d gone on her own. She hadn’t been kidnapped or taken away by anybody. She’d made the decision herself to leave. I just had to figure out why she’d gone.

I pulled out my phone and called her. I took for granted that she had taken the phone with her. I had no real reason to expect her to actually have it on her, and I had even less reason to expect her to answer it, but I did.

“Lucy, it’s me, Blade. Call me back when you get this message. We need to talk.”

Lucy was my only chance at getting to her father and getting beyond all this crap he was doing to me. I needed her to answer the phone. I needed her to call me back. I called a few more times, but I didn’t leave any other voicemails. I figured the first one was enough.

After I stopped trying to reach her, I called Robby.

“You find anything?” he said when he picked up.

“Yeah, she left on her own. I don’t know how she got out or where she went, but she’s out there somewhere. No one took her,” I told him.

“How the hell did she get past me?” he asked. I could hear the astonishment in his voice. “My back was only turned for a moment.”

“Gotcha. She’s easy to underestimate, brother. Don’t beat yourself up.” I was reminded of how I had underestimated her when she came into the strip club the first time, but she’d proven me wrong with ease. She could dance. She was good at it. She would have made bank if I’d let her take the stage.

“I’m really sorry, Blade. What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just stay on standby. I’m trying to reach her. She went somewhere, and you’ve already had guy out looking for her with no luck. I don’t know how much luck I’m going to have either.”

“She’s something else, isn’t she?”

“You have no idea, Robby. For being so sheltered, she’s really independent and resourceful. I’m sure she’s going to continue surprising us before it’s all said and done.” We laughed, and I hung up the phone.

I texted her.

“Call me. I need your help.”

I knew my name would come up on the phone with the text. I hoped she had it on her. Her phone was the only way we had to reach her or locate her. She didn’t have any cards, so there was no way to trace her through her accounts. With only cash, she was going to be nearly impossible to find, but I figured we’d luck out at some point. We always did.

I thought about calling Liza to help us find her. She wasn’t a private investigator, but she was good at tracking people down. She had connections. She was a good one to have on our side for more reasons than just her abilities as a lawyer.

I wasn’t ready to talk to her just yet. Any call I made to her was going to wind up on the case, and it wasn’t time to talk about the case. It was time to find Lucy, get her back with us, and figure out a plan of attack against her father. Using her, of course.

I told myself I wasn’t going to keep calling Lucy, but I called her a few more times. If she still had her phone, I wanted my name and number to come up enough times to convince her to answer.

In between calls to Lucy’s phone, I grabbed a few things to take to the clubhouse with me. I was going to stay there for a few days while I worked with Liza to establish my defense. Once news made it to Mr. Smithfield that I was free, it wasn’t going to be safe for me to be alone at the house. I didn’t know what else he would try, if anything, but I knew he was capable of pulling just about any stunt he tried. He had people who could help him pull anything off.

I grabbed my things and hopped in the Charger to head over. I wanted to be on my bike. I needed the power and freedom it brought with it, but I also needed to be ready to right out to get Lucy the minute I got ahold of her. Once I knew where she was, I was going to bring her back myself.

On the way to the clubhouse, I kept my phone plugged into its charger with the ringer turned up, and I kept my eyes on the rearview, making sure I wasn’t being followed. I didn’t know who would be out looking for me. I didn’t know who would be waiting for me anywhere, but I didn’t want to take any chances either.

Brick and Hatchet greeted me with Robby at the door of the clubhouse when I pulled up a few minutes later. I slid my phone in my pocket after trying to call her again and not getting an answer, again.

“Any word?” Brick asked me.

“Nothing, but I’m ready. When she calls, I’ll be on my way to get her, wherever she is,” I told him as I walked inside.

Hatchet pulled the door shut behind us.

“We’re keeping the place locked down until all of this blows over,” Brick told me. “It’s only a matter of time before her father’s reach expands to grab the whole MC.”

“Right. I’m sorry I got us into this, brother,” I told my president.

“Are you kidding? Man, this isn’t shit. I’ve gotten us into more trouble than this, and you would think your founder and president would be smart enough to avoid trouble with the law. Well, I wasn’t always that smart,” he said with a laugh, dismissing my concern.

“We’ll wait it out,” Robby told me. “Until we can find either Lucy or her father. Then, of course, we’ll do what needs to be done.”

His voice was menacing. Robby didn’t play around when it came to problems. He liked to handle them the best way he knew how: with his size and strength. I saw it in his eyes – he wasn’t in the mood to play around with people like Bryan Smithfield.

“Well, we don’t know what all is going on right now,” I told them both. “First order of business is finding Lucy. Her note said she left on her own, but I’m starting to suspect her father is behind it, even if he didn’t actually take her himself.”

“I’m going to let this be your call for now,” Brick told me. “But if he comes after the MC, we’re going to eliminate him.” He patted me on the back and walked away, leaving me standing with Robby in the middle of the room.

I looked over at Robby and saw a serious look on his face. He was on the same page as our president. I knew if we went after Mr. Smithfield without handling my personal situation first, I was done for. There wouldn’t have been any way to stop a conviction if the person who had put everyone up to it was eliminated.

Chapter 28

Lucy

Blade was out of jail. I knew because he’d started calling me at regular intervals. He was blowing up my phone. He’d call me in bursts. There would be a few calls, and he would stop for a little while. Then, he’d call me again, a bunch of times back to back.

I had gone to the gas station next door to grab a cup of coffee and a muffin for breakfast. I sat on one of the benches outside the bus station and ate my muffin while I drank the warm, comforting coffee. I needed a shower. I needed a hot meal. I needed a real bed to sleep in.

Blade started calling me again. He had all the things I needed. If I just answered the phone, everything I needed would be mine again. I’d get the shower, the hot meal, and the bed. And, even better, I’d get Blade with them.

I stared at the screen of my phone. Blade had offered to adopt my son, even without knowing I was due to have a boy. Blade had told me he would take care of my child and me. He wanted to raise my son as his own, as if the boy hadn’t had a different father.

“Fuck it,” I said aloud and swiped the screen to answer the phone.

I was quiet when I first put the phone to my ear. I froze. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to answer Blade’s call.

“Lucy?” he asked. “Are you there?”

“Yeah,” I said, astonished at how weak my voice sounded. I was tired. I had taken a long bus ride to get to this place in the middle of nowhere. I hadn’t slept on the bus or on the benches, not well anyway. And as far as I could remember, the muffin was the first thing I’d had to eat since I left his house.

“Are you okay?” he asked almost frantically.

“I’m fine.”

“Where are you? I’ll come and get you,” he said quickly.

I remembered the sign behind the register at the gas station. “Riverdale, at the bus station.”

“That’s over a hundred miles away, Lucy! How the hell did you end up there?” he asked, sounding both shocked and a little angry.

“I took the bus. That’s why I’m at the bus station,” I told him, maybe a little bitchier than I meant to be.

“Okay, I’m on the way. You stay right there. It’s almost a two-hour trip from here. I’ll be there as soon as I can be.” I could hear in his voice that he was already moving. He was walking quickly to wherever it was he was going, probably out to the car.

“Okay, I’m not going anywhere. I’m tired, Blade,” I told him.

“Relax. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” We paused, like there was something else we both wanted to say before saying goodbye. Neither one of us wanted to be the first one to say it, it seemed, so we hung up instead.

I had a pocket full of cash, and I was sitting at the bus station waiting on my boyfriend or lover, or whatever I was supposed to call him, to show up to take me home. I could have moved on. I could have grabbed a hotel room and started looking for a job, a place to stay, or a ride to the next town. I could have started my life over and used the money to get above everything that had happened.

I laughed at myself as I waited. I wasn’t as independent as I thought. I wasn’t as strong as I thought. But to be fair, I was also carrying a child. I was far enough along for them to know the sex and, given my size, I was liable to start showing soon. Once the baby came, I wasn’t going to be able to work easily.

Running from my father wasn’t the answer, anyway. He was going to follow me eventually. I wondered what he had on Dylan to make him side with him. If I was going to stand up to him, though, I was going to need Blade’s help.

I sat and mulled over my situation until I saw the black Charger pull up in front of the terminal. My heart skipped a beat. I wasn’t sad anymore about everything that was going on. I knew we were going to make it right.

“Need a ride?” Blade asked, rolling his window down.

I was thankful we didn’t have a tearful, heartwarming reunion. I was relieved he’d greeted me with humor. I still climbed into the car and reached across to wrap my arms around his neck. “Thank you so much for coming to get me.” I could already hear the life returning to my voice. I truly was grateful to have him back with me.

“What were you doing?” he asked with a crooked smile on his face, as if he were more amused by me than anything.

I had really expected him to be angry with me. To see the care and concern in his eyes, the relief from having me back with him, I knew right away that everything was going to be okay. I was right where I should have been the entire time.

“I-I don’t know,” I told him. I shook my head. “I panicked, I guess.” Thinking back, I really had no idea what I had been thinking by running off like that.

“Well, we have a long drive ahead of us. Do you want to get something to eat before we hit the road? Maybe we can talk a little then and start getting to the bottom of all of this,” he said. Underneath his relief, I could see that he knew something else was behind my flight from his house. He knew something had set me off. I wasn’t prone to panic attacks or anxiety, anything like that.

“Oh, I could definitely use some food,” I told him.

He laughed. “You mean to tell me you took all that money from my closet, and you didn’t buy yourself anything to eat? You just sat in the bus station? What the hell, Lucy?”

If he was angry, he was covering it up well. If he had been angry, I supposed the relief was enough to change his mood.

I shook my head and fought back a sudden wave of tears. I had no idea. Suddenly all of the panic I had felt after seeing Dylan seemed so irrational. I had been running out of fear, not out of my usual sense of bold independence and rebellion. I needed to stop trying to analyze everything I was doing because I was getting it wrong. I needed to figure out, instead, what was going to work best for me, for my child, and for my relationship with Blade.

“Look, let’s get you something warm to eat. There’s a restaurant right up the road. You’ll feel better after that. Then we can go from there,” he said in a comforting voice.

I sank back into the leather seat and let him take me away from the bus station. He took me to the nearby restaurant he’d mentioned, and we sat in a booth together. It wasn’t anything special, just a little diner where people passing through could easily grab a quick bite to eat, which was exactly what we were doing.

It felt good to have warm food in me again. It felt good to have Blade there with me and to know he was looking out for me. He didn’t ask for me to return the money I had taken. He paid the tab and let me eat instead of trying to get anything out of me.

I didn’t know how to tell him that Dylan had shown up at the hospital, but I knew once I did he’d see straight through the stunt just like I had begun to. He’d see that my father was behind the whole thing, trying to get me to come home or, at least, leave the Vicious Thrills.

It wasn’t fair that my life had been turned upside down, but at least I had someone there to set it back right side up. While I ate, I reached across the table and took his hand in mine. He still didn’t try to pry. He just held my little hand in his. His touch told me he was glad to have me back. It reiterated what he’d said before, that he was going to protect me and take care of me.

I sat back after the last bite of food and pulled my hand away from him. I let my eyes look into his. Again, I caught him staring at me with love and relief in his eyes. Every time he looked at me, it was like he was seeing a great piece of art for the first time. There was a hint of wonder in his expression, as if he couldn’t believe I was right there in front of him, but I was.

I blushed and a small smile lifted the corners of my mouth. Everything I had wanted and needed had been right there in his eyes the whole time I’d been running trying to find safety.

I took a deep breath and sighed. He didn’t have to say anything; I knew it was time to let him know everything that had happened, everything I didn’t want to admit because it had become embarrassing.

Once again, the biker thug was saving the day. Once again, the man who was supposed to be a dirty, womanizing criminal was turning out to be the gentleman, the knight in shining chrome.

His stare and smile were becoming unnerving. While it was flattering to have him admiring me the way he was, it also felt like he was simply waiting on me to say something. I took a sip of my drink.

“Can we talk in the car?” I asked him. “I don’t feel comfortable talking about it in public.”

“Sure. We can talk whenever, wherever you want, but we do have to talk about it,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

There it was. It wasn’t anger. It came across more like concern. He was concerned as to why I had run, and rightfully so, I guessed. I had left him high and dry, and I had run out on one of the top members of the MC. I could have really screwed things up.

“Okay, let’s talk on the way back,” I said with a deliberate sense of finality.

“Sounds good to me.” He put his napkin on the table next to his plate. He slid out of the booth and held his hand out for me. “Are you ready to go?”

“I guess I am,” I said with a laugh. He wasn’t giving me much choice, it seemed. His behavior said it was time to go, regardless of how ready I really was. What he really meant was it was time to talk.

I took his hand and slid out of the booth to follow him out of the diner. I felt safer just being next to him. He was broad and tall, and he always dressed so his muscles were obvious through his shirts. No one was going to mess with us. No one was going to try anything with him around. It felt good.

Plus, I was going home. That felt good, too.

Chapter 29

Blade

As Lucy and I stepped outside the diner, I was overcome with the need to be close to her. I held the door as she stepped through, and then I gently took her arm and pulled her to me. I embraced her. My arms wrapped around her, swallowing her as I pulled her to my chest. She tilted her head up and we kissed. It was a long, slow kiss. There was no tongue, just our lips lingering together, just the touch, the connection.

Her hands were at my sides, spreading open as far as they could to hold onto me. She pulled me to her. Our bodies pressed firmly together in the sunlight outside the old quiet diner on the secluded road in the middle of nowhere.

I wanted to hear her story. I wanted to know what had happened that set her off like that and sent her running from me, from the life we had talked about building together. I knew it had to be something serious.

She pulled back, breaking the kiss.

“I feel like I should run away more often,” she joked, touching a dainty finger to her lips.

“I’d come get you no matter where you go. But please don’t do that ever again.” I allowed myself to laugh. I was glad to have her back. I walked her to the car and opened her door for her. We walked hand in hand until she slid into the passenger seat and I went to close the door.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, it was finally time to start talking. I looked over to her and took her hand in mine again. I wanted her to know that it was okay for her to tell me anything and everything she needed to.

“I guess you want to talk about what happened,” she murmured.

“I think it’s time. And we should get it all out in the open before we get back to the house,” I said. I gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.

“Where do I begin?” she asked, and I could tell she was talking to herself more than to me at that point.

“At the hospital. What happened to make you want to leave when you got out?”

“It’s like you know,” she said.

“Know what? Remember, I was in jail, and no one told me you were gone until I got out, so you had a pretty good head start.”

She sighed. “Okay. Dylan came to visit me in the hospital,” she said.

“Dylan,” I repeated. “Who’s Dylan?”

“Dylan is the father of my son,” she told me, dropping a bomb on me.

“It’s a boy?” I asked, nearly shouting in surprise.

“It is a boy,” she said, smiling. Her smiled warmed up the whole car, completely changing the atmosphere from cold and serious to bright and joyful.

“Does the father know?” I asked.

“I don’t think so. He would have said something if he had. He would have been more adamant, I think, if he’d known.”

“More adamant? Okay, hold up.” I was getting lost. I felt like I wasn’t getting the full picture. “What happened when Dylan came to the hospital?”

“He told me he wanted to take custody of the baby when he’s born,” she said. The fear of the situation was returning to her voice.

I squeezed her hand again. “That’s not going to happen. You’re not giving him custody of the child, right? I mean, this is supposed to be our kid. That’s going to be my son, not his.” There was a sudden surge in my possessive instinct. I wasn’t going to allow someone to come in and hijack our plans, not like that.

“It wouldn’t take much for him to be able to take our son away, Blade,” she argued. “You’re in an MC. You’ve got a criminal record, and I don’t mean this mess that my father has obviously put you in. I may be a little naïve, but I’m not stupid. I know there’s more to your past than hanging out with your brothers in bars. With his job and my father’s support, no one will stand in his way.”

“You’re forgetting one thing.: your father doesn’t own me,” I said sternly.

“He owns enough people, as you know, to make your life hell.”

I barked out a coarse laugh. “What he doesn’t realize is I’ve still got you. Together, you and I are going to work to take him down,” I told her, confident in our ability to work together against any common threat.

“I’ll be happy to, because he poses a threat to both of us right now,” she said.

“So, what else happened? Did you just panic and leave?” I still wasn’t piecing together everything in my head.

“Yeah, I panicked. Dylan and my father are both rich, powerful men, and I know my father put him up to visiting me. The only thing that made any sense at the time was to run. I had to get away from anything that would help him if he decided to really pursue custody. At the time, his threat sounded very real and very plausible,” she explained.

“I hope you realize he’s going to have to fight if he wants the boy. There are lawyers out there who are not in your father’s pocket. I’ve got one now, and she was able to get one of your dad’s judges to set bail and let me out. I’m sure she can help with any custody battle, or she can find someone who can,” I assured her.

“Thank you, Blade. You’ve really been a tremendous help through all of this,” she said sweetly.

“So, how the hell did you get by Robby?” I said with a laugh.

“Oh yeah, that.” She sounded embarrassed. “Well, while he was at the front door waiting for me, I just dipped out the back.”

It sounded simple enough, but the way my house was set up, I never would have expected someone who wasn’t shady, wasn’t sneaky, to figure out there was an exit in the back. I wondered just how good Lucy really was.

“Are you sure you haven’t lived this kind of life before?” I asked her, joking.

“I watch a lot of TV,” she said. She winked.

“I see that. Where were you going?”

“Wherever the road took me. That was why I stayed at the bus station. I didn’t know where to go next. My original ticket was for Albuquerque, so I could have actually stayed on the bus to stop at any of the stops on the way, or I could have gone all the way, but if I followed the ride all the way to its destination, I figured it would have been easier to track me,” she explained.

“But you used cash, so you probably didn’t have to give anyone your name. It wouldn’t have been easy to track you. You could have gone,” I argued. “I mean, I’m glad you didn’t, but you could have,” I added quickly.

“True, but my father has nearly unlimited funding and power to match. He would have found me. I’m surprised no one showed up at the terminal before you did.” She was looking out the window as she talked, watching the world roll past us.

“I guess you’re right. Well, we’ve got to figure something out to stop him. If we don’t, I’m going to prison on drug charges. Because of who I am and what I do, they’ll want to go as severe as they can on the punishment and the charges.”

She sat and stared quietly for a few moments before saying anything. She was beautiful. That anyone could have looked at her and even imagined doing her wrong boggled my mind. I couldn’t imagine doing anything to hurt her, but there were people out there who couldn’t seem to do anything but that.

“I could talk to him again,” she said finally, turning to face me.

“But what would you say?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’d have to talk him down or get him to admit what he’s doing. But if anyone can do either of those things, it’s me.”

I nodded. She was right. She was the best person for the task of talking to her father. “Do it. But I want to hear everything. I want to hear your whole conversation with him,” I told her, insisting.

“We can arrange that,” she said thoughtfully. I could see the plan formulating in her head.

“What do you propose?” I asked.

“I’ll meet him at his house, and I’ll take my phone. I’ll either record him or let you listen in on speaker. I’ll need you to mute your end, though, so he can’t hear anything.”

Her intuitive understanding of how to do things never ceased to amaze me. Here was this young girl who grew up in the best neighborhood and went to the best schools, who had never been in any trouble before, who understood the world better than most. She was a natural. She was going to make a great old lady and a great addition to the Vicious Thrills.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked her. “I don’t want to put you in harm’s way to make this work.”

“I’m fine with it. Besides, if anything goes wrong, you’ll be listening in, and you can send someone to get me,” she said. She talked like it was some big military operation.

“You don’t expect a conversation with your father to get that bad, do you?” I asked.

“I don’t know, Blade. He seems pretty desperate right now, and I’m not really sure why.”

“Me neither,” I agreed. “Although, if he was upset enough to kick you out of the house because he didn’t want any shame from his daughter having an illegitimate child, he might just be upset enough to do whatever it takes to make sure the world never knows about that child. I saw the neighborhood. People in places like that really care about what their neighbors think of them.”

“And you don’t?” she asked.

“To an extent I do. I want people to be a little unsettled by me. I want them to be afraid to fuck with me or with my brothers. I don’t care what they know as long as they can’t prove it in court,” I said, giving a little cough at the end for emphasis.

Lucy laughed. “Of course, as long as it can’t be proven in court.”

“Right. If the court thinks it didn’t happen, or can’t prove that it did, it didn’t happen. That’s an important lesson in this life, Lucy. Remember it.”

Our drive passed quickly while we talked and held hands in the car. Before I knew it, we were home, pulling up to the clubhouse, where we were both going to be staying until everything blew over. I felt safer surrounded by my brothers in the MC. No one would have argued any differently.

“We’re not going back to the house?” Lucy asked cautiously.

“No way. Not while your father is trying to have me locked up. I don’t know what else he will do, so we’re staying here in the meantime, until we get this sorted. Is that okay?” I asked. I wasn’t really looking for an answer. We were going to stay there whether it was okay or not. It just made more sense.

“I guess it’ll have to be okay,” Lucy said as she got out of the car.

“Hey,” I called after her. I cut the engine and got out, following her as she walked toward the clubhouse. I grabbed her arm again and turned her around.

I had expected to see anger in her face when she spun around, but I saw a kind of resolve. “It’s fine,” she said. “Besides, if I’m going after my father for you, we’re going to need to work with the rest of the guys so they can be ready in case anything goes wrong.”

I could have kissed her again, but she turned and walked inside. I stood back and watched as the old ladies inside welcomed her home. The guys also accepted her into the group. She was one of us. There was no doubt about it.

Chapter 30

Lucy

My father answered the door dressed in a business suit. He’d obviously taken time off work to meet with me. As I walked into the house, he peered outside to see who had dropped me off. Luckily, Blade had decided just to drop me at the driveway so his car wasn’t in view. I didn’t know where he had finally parked it, but he hadn’t pulled in.

The house felt colder and emptier than normal when I walked in. Of course, every surface was sterile and spotless. I had never seen my parents clean the house. It just sort of repelled dust somehow. I never put much thought in it, but as my world seemed to get dirtier and dirtier the longer I was out of the house, it became obvious that something wasn’t quite right.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked him as he closed the front door and locked it.

“I sent her out for the afternoon. I wanted to talk to you in private,” my father said shortly.

I nodded. Of course he wanted to talk in private. My mother would have been offended if she knew everything that was going on. I was fairly certain she had no idea what all he’d done since our last conversation.

He led me to the dining room, the same place where we’d talked before. The blinds in the windows along the outside wall of the dining room were raised so we could see my parents’ beautiful yard. It was as meticulously kept as the inside of the house, and there was still never any color. It was all green all the time. Somehow they managed never to grow any flowers. I would have guessed that one of them would have wanted to see a rose or something at some point, but no.

I sat at the wooden table, taking the seat at one end, while my father sat at the other. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and set it on the table. I had called Blade and already put it on speaker phone so he could hear everything. The screen was off so my father couldn’t tell I was on the phone, and Blade had muted his end of the line, as I had requested, so there wasn’t any sound coming through to tip my father off.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” he asked, maintaining a stony expression on his face. He was unreadable.

“Dylan, Blade, my baby, everything,” I answered. I had to fight my eyes to stay focused on him. I kept wanting to check to make sure Blade was still on the phone, but I didn’t want to give it away.

“The father of your bastard child, your pimp, the bastard itself, and what else?” he asked, rephrasing my words back to me.

“Just ‘my child’ is fine,” I told him. “You don’t have to refer to it as a bastard.” I had to be careful not to call him a him. He was to remain an it to my father. I didn’t want that asshole knowing I was having a boy. If he really were interested in taking the baby from me, he would have doubled his efforts knowing it was a boy.

“You’ve never had much respect for us, have you?” he asked, keeping his tone even and cool.

I was dumbfounded. I had no clue what the hell he was even talking about. I didn’t see how bad luck in my own life had anything to do with my respect for him, but, in his delusional mind, I had to accept that he probably thought I had done all of this shit on purpose just to hurt him.

“I don’t know what any of this has to do with how much I respect the two of you. You’re the one who kicked me out of your house, not the other way around. Next, you’re going to tell me you’re not behind sending Dylan to threaten to take custody of my child. You’re going to tell me you didn’t set Blade up at his club so he would be in jail and out of your way when you came after me,” I said, challenging my father. I needed to get something out of him, and I didn’t want to take too long to do it.

I was starting to feel like the whole thing had been a setup on his part, as well, as if he had invited me to the house for something other than our little talk. If anything happened, Blade already had several guys on call, ready to storm the house.

“I’m sorry to hear about your biker boyfriend,” the smug asshole said.

“Yeah, I bet you are. You’re probably sorry to hear that he got out of jail, huh?”

His eyes faltered. “I’m sorry, he what?” His voice cracked.

“You didn’t know.” I laughed. “You didn’t even know.”

“I mean, why would I have known? Has it been in the news?” he asked, his voice shaking as he tried to cover up his reaction.

“Give it up,” I told him. “You knew about it because you were behind it. I know you used your connections on the department to plant drugs on the premises. Then, you used your connections with the judge to keep him in jail.”

At first, he looked like he was going to continue playing the part, but his face dropped all pretense. He tapped the table and stood up. The game was over. I was about to be in trouble, big trouble. I could see it coming even if I didn’t have any idea yet what it was going to be.

“I’m impressed, Lucy. You’re very intuitive for someone who has never had to get her hands dirty. I’ve tried to hide you from the dirt of the world, from the trash and the garbage that’s out there. I tried to send you to the best schools so you would have the best opportunities, but you’ve always wanted to see what was on the other side, haven’t you?” He walked to me, slowly, as he continued to talk.

“You don’t know how to just simply accept things at face value, do you, Lucy? Like the fact that your boyfriend was arrested for possession, the intent to distribute, and whatever else they could come up with. Or the fact that your ex showed up to tell you he wanted custody of your child so it could grow up in a decent home and have a chance at a decent life. You couldn’t just accept that, could you? You should have come home then instead of hopping a bus and running,” he said.

My heart froze. He knew I’d gotten on a bus. But if he knew that, why didn’t he know Blade was out? Surely he knew where I went and that Blade had picked me up. Unless, of course, I had found the limits of his reach. Whoever saw me get on the bus didn’t follow me, so they didn’t see who came to get me.

“Oh yeah, I saw all of that. But right now you’re wondering why I didn’t know about your boyfriend.” He shook his head. “I can’t see everything, unfortunately.”

“So, you’re saying you are behind the drugs at Blade’s club?” I asked, figuring now that he was indulging in his egotistical bravado, he’d be likely to admit it.

“No one found drugs at the club. They had the drugs when they showed up, and they just said they found them,” he admitted. “And while we’re at it, I did track Dylan down and convince him to scare you away. I never planned on letting him have that kid. That kid isn’t going to be born,” he threatened.

“I don’t understand.” My heart raced. I didn’t like the way his last statement sounded.

“The doctors were supposed to cause you to lose that baby, but the presence of your motorcycle gang friends scared them into not doing anything. You were supposed to lose that baby,” he growled.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My father was trying to abort my child. Legally, I couldn’t have an abortion now. There was no way. The doctors would have been forced to give me medications to kill him.

My heart pounded in my chest as I remembered the sedatives I was on. Some sedatives were too strong for pregnant women and, most of the time, they weren’t recommended at all unless absolutely necessary. I wondered what else they were trying to give me.

“That’s right,” my father said, leaning down to look right in my eyes.

There was so much hatred in them, it made me wonder if he’d ever actually loved me. Or was I some trophy he and my mother had used to make them look like they had a happy family? Had I ever actually been happy?

It was unreal. The whole thing was just unreal. I glanced at my phone. I wanted to tell Blade to come get me. I felt threatened. I knew whatever he’d had planned was about to unfold, and the results were going to be catastrophic.

His eyes followed mine, and he reached down to grab the phone. He hit the button on the side and brought the screen up, revealing the active call with Blade. He smiled at me, a cruel grimace with the corners of his mouth raised in a horrifying parody of a smile.

“Blade,” he said in a cold voice as he took the phone off speaker so I couldn’t hear the conversation.

I looked on in horror, wondering what Blade was going to say to him, if anything. I wondered what my father was about to say as well. I knew Blade had my back, and I had seen how possessive and protective he was over me. My father was making a grave mistake by addressing him directly the way he was.

It was all out of my hands now.

“That’s fine, you don’t have to talk,” my father said in a cold voice that even sent chills down my spine.

He looked at me. My eyes were frozen on his. I didn’t look when I heard the back door open. I closed my eyes, knowing there was nothing I could do at that point to stop whatever was going to happen. I heard what sounded like two other people coming into the room behind me. I felt their hands on me.

“You won’t ever see my daughter again, you simple little thug,” my father said, spitting out each word as I was pulled out of my chair.

I didn’t struggle.

“Hurry. Take her to the car,” my father said. “We’ve got company coming, and we can’t be here when they arrive, which should be momentarily.”

It was always possible he’d been lying about not knowing Blade was out, I figured. He obviously knew the guys weren’t that far from us. He knew I hadn’t come alone as we had agreed. He’d probably known the whole time what the plan was.

I walked with the men carrying me. My father placed a hood over my head as we left the house.

“Don’t want you to know where we’re going, dear,” he said.

I heard the doors open, and I was shoved into an SUV. I had to step up as I got in the back. The person next to me pulled my seatbelt across my chest and buckled me in as the other car doors closed. I tried to grab him, but I realized my hands were restrained. I hadn’t felt them put anything on me, but my wrists were certainly tied together.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” I told my father as I felt the car leaving the back driveway.

“I already am, dear, but don’t worry. We’re about to fix this situation,” he said to me with cool confidence.

I took a deep breath. Blade had found me before. He was going to find me again.

Chapter 31

Blade

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Her father admitted to everything, revealing even darker secrets than we had expected to find. I had failed to realize just how far her father was willing to go to get rid of her child. I was floored. I should have called the guys in right there. I should have given the word for them to take the house then, but I didn’t realize he had more up his sleeve than just running his mouth and admitting everything to her.

He grabbed the phone and took me off speaker. I could still hear what sounded like a small scuffle in the background. Something was going down as he told me I’d never see her again. I hung up the phone and called Robby.

“Everyone in. Now,” I said when Robby answered the phone. I cranked up the car and drove around the corner back to her driveway.

I pulled into the yard with the guys right behind me. Surely, the whole neighborhood heard our motorcycles. It had to be embarrassing to live in such an uptight neighborhood with a bunch of bikers pulling into the yard and storming the house.

I had my piece drawn when I left the car. My brothers brandished their weapons, as well, as they left their bikes. Robby, Brick, and Hatchet directed guys all over the house. There were a few that followed me into the house itself. Some of them took the stairs while the rest of us stayed downstairs. A few guys stood guard out front. A few more took to the backyard.

“Clear,” Robby called from upstairs.

“Clear,” I muttered downstairs. I opened the back door, and Brick turned to me.

“Clear,” he said, shrugging as the men with him secured the rear of the house.

Then, from the front I heard Hatchet. “We got cops.”

“Guns away, guys,” Brick called to the men in the backyard with him. They all put their guns away.

“Guns,” I told the men standing inside with me, and they holstered theirs, as well.

I heard shouting as the cops stormed the yard first. Then, I heard their feet entering the house.

“Guys, cooperate,” I told my brothers. We all had our hands up by the time the cops came around the corner to find us in the back.

“Get the fuck down,” someone shouted with guns pointed in our faces.

I took a deep breath and did as I was told. It wasn’t time to fight back. It was time to cooperate and get the fuck out of there to find where Lucy’s father was taking her. Everyone followed my lead, getting down onto their knees, then onto their stomachs.

“You armed?” the same cop asked as others ran out back.

“I think we all are. Yes, sir,” I told him. There was no sense in lying. They were liable to search us anyway.

“Who am I kidding? Of course you are.” He laughed.

I glanced up to watch him. He stood in front of us alone. He kept an eye on the guys in the back.

“I know why you’re here,” he said.

“I know you do,” I told him.

“Right. Well, you boys need to get on home before someone gets hurt. Mr. Smithfield and his daughter aren’t coming back any time soon,” he said, like he was basically performing security detail for Bryan Smithfield. He wasn’t answering a call. He was answering the pay.

Once they made sure the house was secure and we had been delayed, they escorted us back outside the house. The same cop who had addressed me in the dining room locked the front door behind him and walked back up in front of us. I stood next to Brick and Hatchet. We held our hands in front of us so the cops could see that we weren’t reaching for our weapons.

“You’re free to go,” he said. “My men will wait until you leave the property.”

“I guess we go,” Brick said to me lowly.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I agreed.

The police had only meant to hold us up. They could have charged us with any number of crimes if they had just wanted to, but they weren’t really all that worried about us. That told me Bryan had something big planned. We had to stop him.

“Let’s regroup at the clubhouse,” Brick said as we walked away from the cop.

I nodded and hopped in my car while the rest of the guys climbed onto their bikes. I cranked up my car as bike after bike roared to life on the lawn of the Smithfield house. The cops just stood around and watched, trying to look intimidating. They were failing miserably, coming across as aggravating and pretentious instead.

We rode back to the clubhouse. Out of protest, everyone parked their bikes outside so any cops who wanted to give us a hard time about them would see them clearly from the road as they came by. Usually, as many motorcycles as possible would go inside, and only the ones that didn’t fit would be outside. The guys filled the lot around the building with their motorcycles.

“So, he’s not just tipping them off,” Brick said as he walked past me, going into the building.

“No, it seems like he’s got them on his payroll,” I said absently, turning away from the mass of bikes outside to follow him in.

He called a meeting of the senior members of the MC and walked to the boardroom. Robby and I followed. Hatchet came in behind us. Hammer and Sketch walked in behind him, closing the door. We all sat around the table.

“All right, we could have trouble here,” Brick said, standing where his chair should have been. He’d pushed it back.

I looked around the table. Everyone nodded in agreement.

“We need to take this Bryan Smithfield down. He poses a threat. As long as he has all the power he does, he’s a threat. He has lawyers, judges, and the cops on his payroll. This guy’s one person, but he makes what we do look like child’s play. He’s far too connected, and it’s going to become a problem. Blade, I know we agreed to let you and Lucy handle this, but it’s a bigger problem now. He has targeted all of us,” Brick said.

“Fine by me,” I said, sitting back in my chair. “It’s time for us to do something about him as a group.”

“Anyone?” Brick asked.

I knew I had to figure out where he was taking Lucy, and I knew the longer we were out of the loop, the farther away they were going to get. I failed to see how sitting in a meeting was going to help me do that.

When no one answered, presumably because they all felt the same way I did, I sighed heavily.

“You got something, Blade?” he asked me.

“First thing we need to do is figure out where he’s going,” I told him. “Where is Bryan taking Lucy?”

I looked around the room at the faces staring back at me. No one else knew as much about what was going on as I did. They were all there for support. Robby was probably the only one who had any real clue. He’d spent time with both of us.

“He kicked her out because of the baby, right?” Robby asked.

“That’s the story,” I told him.

“If he kicked her out, why the hell does he keep trying to interfere?” Hatchet snapped. “Why not just let her go?” He was just saying what we were all thinking.

“That’s a good point, Hatchet,” I agreed. “I think he’s trying to get rid of the kid. I mean, you guys didn’t hear what I heard on the phone.”

Then it hit me. I stopped talking and slammed my hand on the table, sitting forward.

“He said she was supposed to lose the baby at the hospital. I’m assuming the doctors told him she was there and he told them what to do. Fortunately, they have procedures and laws governing their behavior, so they weren’t able to do it. Plus, Robby, having you there helped. Apparently, you intimidated them into doing their jobs the right way just by being present.”

“That’s my job,” he said with a satisfied smile on his face.

“Well, that means her father has to find another way to get rid of that baby,” I said.

“You think he’s going to take her to the abortion clinic?” Brick asked.

“Isn’t she too far along?” Robby asked.

“Does it matter?” I asked him, raising my eyebrows.

Robby’s jaw hit the floor as he realized what I was saying. No one else seemed to be following except maybe Brick.

“He’s probably going to pay off one of the doctors to handle things, regardless,” I said, choking on the words.

“That’s sick, man,” Brick chimed in.

“I know, but that seems to be who we’re dealing with,” I told him.

“Who is this guy?” Sketch asked, astonishment thick in his voice.

I shook my head. “All I know is he’s my old lady’s father, and he has gone from ultra-conservative asshole to psycho since he found out she was pregnant and involved with a member of a motorcycle club.”

“Not just any MC, now,” Brick said with a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t downplay our reputation, son. We’re the Vicious Thrills. That means something.”

“Yeah, and apparently that means a lot to Bryan Smithfield, as well,” I said.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get her,” Robby assured me. “I’ll get some guys together. We need to get ready to go. If he’s paying a doctor to perform an abortion without any questions, he’s probably not going to have to wait very long for the procedure to get underway.”

“Right.” I watched as the big man left the room and looked back at Brick, who was still holding my shoulder.

“Don’t worry. We’ll handle it,” he said.

“I’m going, too,” I told him. “First, we need to make some phone calls. I don’t want the police interfering with us this time. We need to go over their heads to stop him.”

“You thinking the Sheriff?” Brick asked in his thoughtful, scratchy voice.

“No, I’m thinking higher. Chances are, he’s got someone there, too. And at the state.” I watched Brick’s face as he tried to follow me but couldn’t.

“You’re talking about the FBI?” Hatchet asked. “What are they supposed to be investigating if they come after him?”

“Tax evasion? Human trafficking? I don’t know. We can give them something,” I said, and I wondered if there was anything already on the books for Bryan Smithfield. Surely, there had to be something. Guys like that didn’t usually make it to his stature without something shady going on.

“Call Liza,” Brick said. “She’ll help you come up with something. Hell, she’s probably got connections that run that high.”

“Nice. Yeah, I’ll give her a call.” I didn’t want to admit that I hadn’t checked in with her since leaving jail. I hadn’t wanted to talk about my case, but if this worked, I wasn’t going to have to talk about my case. Charges were going to be dropped once someone got ahold of this man.

“In the meantime, the rest of you go down with Robby,” Brick said, addressing the other three members still sitting at the table.

“Right.” Hatchet got up and took Hammer and Sketch with him.

I got up to leave, as well. I needed to make that call to Liza.

Brick grabbed my shoulder again, stopping me. His touch always felt so fatherly. It demanded my full attention and obedience. “Be careful, Blade,” he said. “This man seems unpredictable. I mean, he has a one-track mind, but I don’t trust how he’ll react when we finally confront him.”

“Don’t worry. If this works, we won’t be alone,” I told him. I left the room and pulled my phone out of my pocket. It was time to see what Liza could do.

Chapter 32

Lucy

“All right, take the hood off and free her wrists,” my father said from the front of the SUV as we came to a stop.

When the hood came off, I was staring at his cold, smiling face in the passenger seat up front. When my hands were untied, I leaned forward to look out the front windshield.

“What are we doing here?” I asked my father, even though I knew exactly why were at the clinic.

“You’re not going to have that baby,” he said.

“Without my consent, no doctor is going to perform the operation. And besides, I’m too far along,” I argued.

“Oh, naïve, sheltered little Lucy,” my father said condescendingly, “you underestimate the power of money. With enough money, any doctor will perform the operation when they are told, with or without your consent.”

I stared at the squat little building in front of us in horror. “You’re telling me you’ve got a doctor in there who’s already agreed to it?” I said.

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, Lucy.” He sounded so pleased with himself. He puffed his chest out and smiled at me with all his smug self-satisfaction.

“You really think you’ve got it all figured out, huh?” I said, trying to engage him to buy some time. I knew it wasn’t going to be too long before Blade showed up. Unfortunately, he probably knew that, too, which meant he was probably in a hurry to get me inside.

He ignored me and turned to his driver. “Hey, she knows where we are now. You can drive around back,” he said.

My heart started to race again. All this stress could not have been good for the baby. I knew what it meant that we were moving around to the back of the building. No one was even going to know I was there other than the doctor and anyone who helped in the procedure. I was going to be in and out as quickly and quietly as possible, with as few witnesses as possible.

“You know, you always taught me that guys like Blade were thugs, and you’re turning out to be the real thug here,” I cried to my father.

“When you operate at my level, dear, thug isn’t the word. I’m not even a criminal anymore. They call people like me businessmen. I’m able to pull off what normally takes motorcycle gangs, well-organized street gangs, or the mafia. But because I know how to make business arrangements work in my favor, I only rely on a few employees to watch my back while I make things happen. No one is permanently tied to me,” he explained with sadistic delight in his voice.

“We’re here,” the driver said, pulling up to the back of the building and parking almost right next to the door.

The door swung open, and a man stood there in green scrubs with a mask over his mouth and nose. I figured he must have been the doctor who was going to perform the procedure.

“All right, let’s get her inside,” my father said to his men. Then, he turned to me and added, “If you run, I may lose more than a grandchild today. I told you not to get involved with those street thug bikers.” He shook his head as if he had already been practicing how he was going to look to the cops.

“I can’t believe you,” I said flatly. “You are no longer my father.”

“Thank you, Lucy. You just made this so much easier.” He turned and climbed out of the car as the driver opened my door and snatched me out by my hair with gloved hands.

“Be careful. We don’t want to hurt the baby yet,” he cautioned his men as they handled me and forced me into the building. He nodded at the doctor as he walked in ahead of us.

The doctor closed the door behind us after the men got me inside. They led me to a room at his direction. We were in the back of the office, and it was quiet other than us. I realized I hadn’t seen any cars up front.

“What, did you close the office early?” I snapped at the doctor behind me.

“After today, child, I could retire if I wanted to,” he said in a muffled voice from behind the face mask.

I wanted to tell him he probably should have retired if he was considering doing something illegal, but at the same time, I didn’t want to talk to the man who was about to take my baby from me. There was nothing I could have said with more weight than money, I knew. Besides, it was hard to focus with hands on me, pushing me, making me walk.

“Ready?” one of the men asked the other.

One grabbed my ankles while the other grabbed me under my arms. I tried to fight and protest but they had a good grip on me. They picked me up and put me on the operating table.

“Secure her so she can’t hurt herself,” the doctor said.

“How often do you do this?” I asked him.

“Every day,” he answered with a touch of humor in his voice.

“No, jackass, I mean this, performing backroom abortions against the mother’s will.”

All he did was wink. My heart sank. These men were the real criminals.

I looked around for Bryan. I hate that he had become that, that he had become someone who was no longer my father. He stood by the door and just watched as they forced me down on the table and put my wrists and ankles in restraints.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch?” I asked him.

“Unless it gets too nasty. Then, I’ll probably step outside,” he said nonchalantly, as if the girl on the table in front of him wasn’t even his daughter. He’d abandoned me. I didn’t know when, but he’d abandoned me.

I blinked back my tears and looked up at the ceiling. I stopped fighting. There was no use in it. If I kept fighting I was going to hurt my son. I closed my eyes as tears ran down my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I said aloud, choking on my words.

“Now you apologize,” he said.

“I don’t think she’s talking to you,” the doctor said.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. You were supposed to be born. You were supposed to grow up and be happy. You even had a man waiting for you, who had promised to be your dad. And he would have been a great dad. I’m so sorry,” I told my unborn child. Tears were streaming down the sides of my face, and I lost my voice. I cleared my throat and stopped talking. I couldn’t say anything else.

“Can you do something to make her shut up?” Bryan asked the doctor.

“I could,” he answered, “but I think she’s done.” There was a hint of sorrow in his voice, as if I’d touched him.

He took a breath and looked around the room. He put a gentle hand on my arm and gave me a light squeeze, letting me know he understood, or at least sympathized. He can’t sympathized too much, I thought. He’s still about to kill my unborn child.

“Okay, before we get started, I’ve got to run some tests to make sure we’re okay to move forward,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I have to ask everyone to step out into the hallway.”

I heard a gun cock and looked over to see Bryan holding a gun up at the doctor.

“We’ll stand out in the hallway, but you better not try anything stupid, doc. We’ll be watching you.”

“I’ll leave the door open. I just need to check on the baby and make sure our patient is healthy enough to withstand the procedure,” he said, holding his hands up passively.

Bryan looked at the two men with him. He jerked his head toward the door to send them outside before he lowered his gun and backed away. The doctor waited until the three of them were out of the room before moving toward his equipment. He grabbed a monitor and pulled it over next to me.

“Okay, bear with me here. We’re going to take a look at the baby for a moment just to get a look at what we’re dealing with,” he said. “You don’t have to see anything. I know it’s a tender situation right now, so I don’t have to do anything to make it worse.”

“If you’re going to do this, I don’t want to know anything,” I told him, my voice still racked with my sobbing. It was still hard to talk.

“I’ll make this as comfortable as possible,” he assured me.

He performed an ultrasound to get an image of the baby. As much as I wanted to look at the monitor to see what he was seeing, I didn’t want to traumatize myself even more.

“Wow,” he said, sounding almost troubled.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yes.” He sighed. “A little too okay. If you will, excuse me, please.”

My nerves were shot to hell, but I could still feel the surge of nervous energy as he got up and walked away from me, leaving the room. He pulled the door mostly closed behind him. There was a seriousness in his stride, and as I watched, I almost felt relieved. I got the distinct feeling he was trying to get out of the procedure.

I strained my ears to listen to the voices outside the door. I caught snippets of their voices as they talked. I wasn’t sure of exactly what I was hearing, but there were a few phrases that seemed to jump out at me.

“…too far along.”

“I’m paying you…”

“…thought you said… earlier…”

“Get back in there.”

I heard Bryan’s voice get louder, and the gun cocked again.

“I’m sorry, but I’m a professional, Mr. Smithfield. I can’t,” the doctor protested.

“Then why did you agree to this anyway?” Bryan was hissing and growling at him at the same time.

“I didn’t realize how far along your daughter was. I’m sorry, but my moral convictions won’t let me do this, not in good conscience,” I heard the doctor continue protesting.

“So did you agree to it to mislead me?” Bryan asked.

He pushed the doctor back into the room with his gun pressed into his chest.

“I’ve paid for your services, and you’re going to provide them, whether you agree with what I want you to do or not. You’ve already agreed to the money, and my moral convictions tell me that you better deliver the services you promised me.” He pushed the doctor against the operating table while he was ordering him back into the room.

“Okay, okay. I’ll do the procedure,” the doctor agreed.

“Good. Now stop wasting time,” Bryan said. He pushed the doctor one more time. I imagined he used the gun to shove him back, but I didn’t know for sure, as he was standing on the other side of the doctor and I couldn’t see him.

When the doctor gathered himself and turned around, I saw Bryan standing against the wall next to the door. The other two men stood on the other side of it. They were all inside the room now instead of standing out of it in the hallway.

The doctor shot me a knowing look as he gathered the ultrasound equipment and pushed it back against the wall. He wasn’t finished trying to help me. He still had something else up his sleeve.

He came back and stood by side for just a moment. He was wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm. At the same time, he loosened the strap on my wrist enough that I could get my hand out of it.

“Gentlemen, I have some equipment that we need to get from the other room,” he told Bryan and his two associates after he finished acting like he was taking my blood pressure.

He walked out, and Bryan’s two associates followed. Bryan stood and looked at me nervously before backing out of the room to follow them.

I was alone.

It was time to go.

Chapter 33

Blade

“That’s Ghost territory,” Liza said when I told her where the abortion clinic was. “I’ll have to talk to them and make sure it’s not going to cause any problems for you guys to move in on that clinic.”

“Look, let me talk to them with you. I want them to know I don’t mean them any disrespect by bringing guys into their area to handle something like this,” I explained. There was a code. No matter how wrong this doctor was, if we made a move in another MC’s territory without getting the all clear to do so first, we opened the door for retaliation. At the very least, we had to let them know what we were doing and why.

“Also, I know Ace, their president. You might want to get Brick to talk to him for you. He’s going to wonder why you’re talking instead. He’s going to think something’s up, Blade, and you don’t want him breathing down your neck,” Liza explained.

It struck me that for a lawyer, she was very involved in MC politics and business. I figured that was what made her effective as a lawyer for us outlaws.

“Got it. I’ll let Brick know,” I conceded. I had to remind myself sometimes that I wasn’t in a position to handle every situation. I wasn’t even our spokesperson.

“Okay, I’ll give Ace a call and have him reach out to you,” she said.

“Great. There’s something else I need help with,” I said quickly, trying to keep her on the phone long enough to make sure we covered the real reason I called.

“What’s up?”

“We can’t count on local law enforcement with this. As we’ve already seen, Mr. Smithfield is paying off the local guys. He’s got them in his pocket. If we try to call them and let them know what’s going on, all they’ll do is let him know we’re on our way. That could really put Lucy in danger.”

“Not to mention what that could do for the Vicious Thrills and the Ghosts,” Liza added. “I’ve got some connections at the state and federal level.” She paused for a moment, and I could almost hear her thoughts as she considered other options. “I think I’ll do better to call my FBI contacts and see if anyone is in the area.”

I sighed. This all sounded like it was going to take too long. “Look. We’re going to start moving,” I told her. “How quickly can this happen?”

“I don’t know. It could take ten minutes, could take a couple of hours, depending on how available everyone is,” she explained.

“Fine. We’ll get in position, and I’ll put everyone with me on standby,” I said. I knew moving ahead wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had, but I really didn’t give a shit. If everything on Liza’s end didn’t work out, I would just have to be prepared to ask for forgiveness instead of permission.

“I’ll leave that out when I talk to people on this end,” she said, and I could hear the smile across her face. “A lot of guys would write people off for this sort of thing. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Thanks. I’m already in the middle of it, though. I’m just trying to get out,” I told her and hung up.

“Hey, brother, we’re ready,” Robby told me.

“Okay, let’s get into position. We’re going to surround the clinic, and we’re going to wait for word from the Ghosts. We’re going into their territory with this. Also, Liza is calling the FBI to see if we can’t get some agents on Lucy’s dad and the doctor agreeing to do this procedure,” I explained.

“How do you know the doctor’s agreeing to it?” Robby asked.

“I’ve learned a little bit about our boy Bryan Smithfield here lately. That doctor’s going to agree to it, one way or another. Money or force, just like with us.” I patted him on the back and sent him back to the main room with the guys on their bikes while I went back to get Brick.

“Is everything good to go?” Brick asked.

“I need you to come with us,” I told him. “We’re going into Ghost territory, and Liza’s trying to get ahold of their president to make sure we don’t have any trouble, but he’s going to want to talk to you.”

“All right. I’ll ride,” he said. Brick took a very comfortable role as president. He wasn’t as active as he had been when he started the MC, and no one blamed him for it. He’d seen a lot of things go wrong in his time, so he sat back and sort of guided us like an elder most of the time. Hatchet was pretty lax as his VP most of the time, too, leaving most of the MC functions to myself and Robby.

We didn’t mind handling business – shit, that was why were there. But when I saw the tired look on his face when it was time to ride out, I wondered why Brick didn’t just step down and hand his and his son’s positions over to us. Hatchet wasn’t old enough to be VP. He didn’t know how shit worked. Robby and I had been in the thick of it since day one.

Everyone looked to us for guidance before they went to Brick anyway.

We walked out to find Robby and a handful of guys ready to go. We knew we didn’t need many. It was going to be a small, quick job. We were hopefully going to have some sort of law enforcement to back us up. And to top it all off, I was sure Liza was going to get us in with her guys in the Ghosts so we would be likely to have backup from them, as well.

We rode out on our motorcycles, knowing the noise would alert Lucy’s dad to our presence before we even showed up at the clinic. I hoped it instilled in him a sense of fear to hear us coming.

He’d fucked up. A lot. And it was time to pay for what he’d done.

The clinic was a small, squat building. It looked closed as we made our first pass, but I caught a glimpse of a black SUV, like a Suburban or something, sitting out behind the building. As we passed the first time, we saw two men dressed like Secret Service agents stepping out of the back door and pulling guns out of their jacket pockets.

I laughed to myself. They thought those little pea shooters were going to intimidate us. We had guys behind us with fully automatic assault rifles strapped across their backs. Those kids had no idea what they were doing, waiting for us with little handguns.

They knew we were there, though, and that was good. We pulled around the block after assessing the perimeter. It looked like the only people were there were Mr. Smithfield and the doctor, Dr. Snyder.

We pulled into the parking lot. A few of the guys parked by the main entrance to the parking lot and pulled out their rifles to cover the rest of us as we moved to the back, in case the lackeys came out with their guns drawn on us.

We pulled to the edge of the parking lot, with Mr. Smithfield’s goons training their guns on us. They hadn’t fired, and they surely could have squeezed a couple of shots off before anyone got them. We weren’t ready to drop them, not like that. I still wanted to give Ace a chance to call us.

We parked, killed our bikes, and waited. I held my hand up to hold everyone back. The suits looked at each other as if they were confused about what we were doing.

My phone rang, and I pulled it out to find a number I didn’t recognize calling me. I handed the phone to Brick and swiped to accept the call.

“This is Brick,” my president said. He sat and listened quietly for a moment with a contemplative look on his face.

Then, he looked at me and nodded. I got up with the other guys, and we walked toward the door with our guns drawn, aimed at the two men guarding it.

“Put your weapons down,” I said calmly, shifting my gun to reinforce what I was telling them to do. They dropped their weapons and kicked them our way. They put their hands up after they did.

“Turn around,” Robby said as he reached down to grab their guns.

Roach popped them in the back of the head with the butt of his riffle, knocking them out. We didn’t want to have to kill anyone if we didn’t have to, especially if we were waiting on some sort of law enforcement backup.

Brick walked up and handed me the phone back. I took it and checked the screen.

“He said to do whatever we needed to do and to let him know if we need any help,” he told me.

“Good.” I nodded. Liza had come through.

Just then a text came through on my phone from her. Got a few FBI field agents on their way. Get in and out. I showed the text to Brick.

“All right, guys, look, we need to make this quick,” he announced.

Everyone looked up and turned to him, nodding in agreement. They looked surprised to hear him taking charge the way he was, but that was what he did sometimes. He’d just suddenly become our president again.

While he explained his plan, I texted Liza back. Got an ETA?

5 min.

“You’re shitting me,” I said aloud.

“What?” Brick asked.

“We gotta cut it short, guys. We have to get in there now and get Lucy. Liza says they’ll be here in about five.”

Brick looked at me and almost looked horrified.

“We got it, man,” I told him. “Hop back on the bike and wait for us.” I turned to the other guys. “We’re going in,” I told them, holding my gun back up.

“One problem,” Robby said with his hand on the door.

“What’s that?”

“It only opens from the inside apparently. Or with a key,” he told me, pulling on it.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” I laughed hoarsely. “This is too much. Back up.”

I aimed at the door as he stepped aside, figuring I’d try to shoot the lock off so we could get in. I pulled the trigger and hit the lock dead on. Robby tried again, but it still wouldn’t budge.

As he stepped back and I took aim again, the door flew open. I immediately lowered my gun, not knowing who was going to head out that door. I held my hand up to hold everyone else back and to keep them from shooting. There were only three people I knew it could have been.

Then, the strawberry waves and blue eyes I’d been waiting to see came out. I slid my gun under my belt and caught Lucy in my arms as she fled the building, crying.

“It’s okay,” I told her, smoothing down her hair.

Then, from within, we heard a gunshot, and she flinched. I waved my hand to signal to everyone that we were done and needed to get on our bikes before things really got ugly for us. The FBI was going to be there any minute, and we had to hit the road before we were spotted. The last thing we needed to do was answer any questions.

Still, it felt wrong leaving the scene without a fight. It almost felt like we were fleeing ahead of Lucy’s father. Really, we were getting out of the way so law enforcement could handle its job without any of us getting in trouble.

Chapter 34

Lucy

Alone in the room, I glanced at my wrist and waited to make sure they weren’t coming right back in there with me. The doctor had unbuckled the strap around my wrist and just left it there, ready for me to pull my arm out. I was surprised no one had noticed.

While I waited to make sure it was safe for me to leave, I heard the motorcycles coming. Blade was on his way for me. At least I knew there was one man in my life I could count on to be on my side when shit went wrong. I pulled my arm out of the strap and unstrapped my other wrist and ankles from the operating table.

Then, I heard Bryan’s men running down the hallway toward the door. It sounded like they had their guns drawn. I got off the table and walked over to the door. I listened for any sign of what was really going on.

“No, you’re going to wait right here,” I heard Bryan say, presumably to his doctor.

I stuck my head out into the hallway to see where he was. I couldn’t see him, but I imagined he had the doctor with a gun to the man’s head. Thankfully, no one had thought to check on me yet. That gave me some freedom to leave, but I was still nervous. It would only take a moment for any of them to think about me.

I heard the motorcycles get louder all of a sudden as Bryan’s two associates opened the back door and stepped outside. I could still hear him talking to the doctor down at the other end of the hall, his voice little more than a distant, threatening growl.

I looked down both ends of the hallway. I didn’t know which way to go. There was only one way out that I knew about, and even it didn’t seem safe, but I knew I stood a better chance against those two guys with guns than against the man who wanted my child out of his life.

Did he really think I was going to be able to look him in the face when all of this was said and done and call him Dad? Bryan had given that up by threatening my child. I hoped he didn’t think I hadn’t noticed that my mother was missing in all of this. She wouldn’t have stood for the shit he was trying to pull. I didn’t know where she was, but I was pretty sure she didn’t know what was going on. Hell, for all I knew, he had her tied up somewhere back at the house. He might have had a third person at the house watching her.

I stepped into the hallway and walked down to the backdoor. It was still open, and I could see the two men standing there, talking, with their guns out. I took a deep breath. I was going to need to do something to get past them, but I didn’t know what to do. I knew they wouldn’t have heard me if I had decided to approach them with the noise from the motorcycle engines outside.

Then, the motors stopped. One of the guys pushed the door closed. I stopped dead still. Behind me, Bryan was still growling at the doctor, probably accusing him of calling the bikers out to stop him. Who the hell knew?

I took a deep breath and started walking toward the door again. Outside, it was dead silent. I imagined a quiet face-off between the guys and the bikers. I wondered who was going to shoot first. It would have been stupid for those two gunmen to think they could do anything against Blade and his men.

For one, they were outnumbered. And knowing what little I knew about motorcycle clubs, I figured Blade and his men also outgunned them. Still, I should have heard something, right?

I stood and listened, knowing that at any moment, Bryan was going to get curious about what was going on and come to the back or at least go to check on me in the operating room.

I heard a shot. Outside.

I stepped back from the door. There wasn’t another shot, so I quickly pushed the door open and found Blade standing there with a few other guys from the MC. He grabbed me and pulled me to his bike.

Before his engine roared to life, we all heard a gunshot from inside. I closed my eyes, hoping it wasn’t my father. In spite of everything he’d done, he was still my father. And because of everything he’d done, I didn’t want him to be able to take an easy way out. I also didn’t want the doctor who had helped me escape to have to go out like that.

“Why are we leaving?” I asked Blade.

“Your father has company coming, and we don’t want to be around for it.” He gunned the engine and I threw my arms around his waist.

I didn’t know if being on the back of his bike was a bad idea or not in my condition. I hadn’t been a good mom-to-be, but I made a silent promise to myself and to my son that once I got back to safety, I was going to be a much better mom. I was going to start taking care of my body so I could take better care of that baby.

I had someone else counting on me, and I had to be there for them.

I glanced back over my shoulder as everyone pulled out of the parking lot. We were pulling out the rear entrance as several black cars with blacked out windows pulled into the front. They looked federal, like FBI agents. They got out of their cars and stormed the building, guns drawn.

I hugged Blade tighter and rested my head on his back as we sped away from the scene. I saw why he hadn’t wanted to stay around. I didn’t imagine anyone in an MC wanted to talk much to the feds. I was also sure the feds must have known who had tipped them off.

We pulled up to the clubhouse a little while later. My whole body felt shaken. I was shaking when I got off the bike. I couldn’t tell if it was from the ride or from the adrenaline rush. I had been just a few minutes away from starting an abortion, a few minutes away from losing my baby. It really hit me how close I had been and how lucky I was that Blade and the other guys had arrived when they did.

I threw my arms around his neck before we walked inside. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for everything he had done. Everything. He had spared me from having to get onstage with those other girls and offered me a place to stay. All I had to do was share his bed, and that had quickly become so much more. He’d offered me more than just sex. He’d offered me more than a roof over my head.

“What’s that for?” he asked, laughing as we pulled back from our embrace.

“Everything,” I told him. “You have given me a chance at a new life.”

He looked into my eyes, and I saw how much my words meant to him. I ran a hand gently over his cheek, and he smiled at my touch. He turned his face and kissed my fingers as they slid down past his lips.

“Get a room,” Robby said, nudging his MC brother as he walked past us.

“Hey, Robby,” I said, stopping him.

“What’s up, Lucy?” he asked.

“I wanted to thank you, both of you, for giving me the opportunity you have. Is there still a place for me in your office?”

Robby glanced at Blade, as if he had to ask his brother’s permission to give me my job back. Blade nodded slightly at him.

“There’s always a place for you, Lucy, and I’d be happy to have you back whenever you’re ready to return,” he said.

I turned from Blade and put my arms around Robby’s sides. Robby was massive. He was the size of a bear, but he was solid muscle. I couldn’t get my arms around him, but his arms reached around me, and he smothered me in a hug.

“Thanks, Robby.”

“No problem.” He smiled as he walked off, leaving me standing there with Blade.

We looked at each other for a moment. So much had happened so quickly that we really didn’t know what to say anymore. There was just too much for either of us to take it all in quickly enough to say something to the other.

“Hey, look, I don’t think I ever apologized for leaving the way I did,” I said.

“You didn’t need to,” he assured me. “You panicked. Coming home was apology enough.” He put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to him. He kissed the top of my head.

“I just…I’m sorry,” I said. I buried my face in his chest. There wasn’t a whole lot else to say yet. I was just glad to be back where I belonged, back in his arms, back with my Vicious Thrills family.

We walked into the clubhouse and were met by the cheers and applause of the members who were hanging out. There was food – more grilled steak and baked potatoes, the usual for those guys. The girlfriends and old ladies passed around plates to everyone..

“So, this is what family feels like,” I said under my breath as we sat down on one of the leather couches around the room.

“I suppose so,” he told me. “Welcome home, baby.” He kissed me on the cheek and turned to his food.

“It looks good,” I said.

“It’s always good. You know that,” he added.

It was always good. I knew everything wasn’t always going to be great. I knew there were going to be struggles ahead. I knew I could never go back the way I came, and I didn’t have any desire to anymore. I had seen what kind of man my father really was, and I wasn’t interested in having anything to do with him again at that point. I figured it was best to let the FBI handle him, until someone somewhere decided it was time to handle him for good. Maybe that wasn’t the right way to feel about my father, but he’d led me to my real family, and I didn’t need him anymore.

I looked around the room at the men and women eating, talking, laughing, and having a few drinks with their food. I looked at all the leather, the ink-covered arms, chests, hands, and necks. I was sure each person in their probably had their own stories to tell, but I was sure they all had something in common. They were all loyal to one another, and they all had trouble dealing with people who didn’t accept or understand that kind of loyalty.

They may have had alternative ways of handling things – they certainly didn’t call the cops to handle situations they could handle on their own, and I would have been willing to put money on the fact that they called the MC when they couldn’t handle their problems. They may have had different ways of making a living, or a killing in some cases. But no matter how they lived their lives, no matter how they made money, they treated each other like family. They stuck by each other in good times and bad.

And they really did stick together, unlike my family had done.

“What are you thinking about?” Blade’s voice interrupted me, lowly, almost as if he were in my head.

“Just how lucky I am to be here. I took a chance that night, a shot in the dark, when I walked into your club and asked about the dancing gig.” I didn’t look at him while I was talking. I didn’t want to lose myself in his eyes. I’ve lost myself enough, I thought. I wanted to stay grounded.

He laughed. “You looked so scared when you came in there. I thought to myself, this little kid needs to go home to her daddy.”

I chuckled. “How ironic. That was exactly what I was running from.” I leaned against him while I laughed.

“Well, I’m glad we took a chance on each other,” Blade added. “I think it paid off very well for both of us.”

“You think?” I asked, turning my head to look into his face.

He nodded. “I’m pretty sure. And I’m pretty sure things are only going to get better from here. The worst, my love, has ended. Now, eat, before it gets cold.” He winked as he carved off another piece of his steak.

Epilogue

Lucy

“I just need your signature here, and here,” Liza said, standing over me at the desk in Blade’s office back at his club, The Bounce House. She wore her trademark black suit with a blood red blouse underneath the jacket. She had become a fixture around the MC, helping the Vicious Thrills make sure all of their legal business was on the up-and-up. She had even minimized police harassment, which everyone thought was nearly impossible.

Now, she was overseeing a new partnership. The contract she asked me to sign was one authorizing the transfer of half of Blade’s ownership of the club over to me. I was now his partner at The Bounce House. Or, I was going to be as soon as I signed the papers and handed them back to her. I scrawled my signature at the bottom of the last two pages of the contract and set the pen down on the desk.

It was happening. I was really happening. I thought he’d been joking about it at first, but he hadn’t.

“There it is,” Liza said with as much happiness in her voice as I figured anyone had ever probably heard.

She shook Blade’s hand, and turned to shake mine. Blade started to stand up to escort her out, but she put her hand out to stop him.

“You two have some celebrating to do, I would imagine,” she said. “Congratulations! You are now business partners.”

“Really, thank you, Liza,” Blade said. “Thank you for everything.”

He said it with such sincerity in his voice, and why wouldn’t he have? Liza had helped him get law enforcement after my dad. Liza had helped him get out of jail. And with everything her contacts at the FBI had found on my dad, charges against Blade had been dropped in the drug case, sparing him court and more jail time.

Instead, my father and his co-conspirators had been jailed. The FBI had gone after the lawyers, the law enforcement officers, and a few other people my father had had “business” connections with. It turned out he hadn’t been a very successful businessman after all. He had basically blackmailed every local politician, official, or businessman into doing what he needed them to do for all those years. It was stupefying how much dirt they’d found on him once they started.

As for my mother, she filed for divorce while he was in custody. She and I both had charges against him in his pending federal case. Together, we added false imprisonment and kidnapping to the laundry list of charges he faced. He was being held without bail until his court date because the judge believed he posed a threat to us and anyone else he had been associated with on the outside. I had agreed to be part of the trial as long as I didn’t have to actually appear in court. Because I knew Liza, I was granted my request.

“Liza,” I said before she stepped out of the office.

“Huh?” She turned around quickly, surprised that either of us had anything else to say.

“Thank you,” I said, taking a step toward her and wrapping my arms around her neck. I wanted to express my gratitude for all the help she’d provided.

“Hey, just doing my job, doll,” she said. “Now, really, you two get back to whatever it is you need to do tonight.”

She flashed her winning smile and ducked out the door, leaving me alone with Blade. We’d been so busy, even after my father had been locked up, that I felt like we hadn’t taken any time to talk except where it involved business or the case.

Blade was standing behind his desk and staring at me with a strange look in his eyes.

“Not here,” he said, stepping around the desk and taking me by the hand. He gave me a gentle kiss on my lips. “Not here,” he repeated.

“What not here?” I asked, laughing.

“I’ll show you what I mean. Come with me.” He led me through the club as the girls were getting ready for the night’s show. We didn’t even have to say anything to Molly. She saw us leaving, so she knew what to do. She practically ran the place anyway.

Once outside, Blade opened the passenger door for me. I’d pushed the seat back as far as it would go. I was starting to show, and I needed a little more room. Plus, we weren’t taking his bike anywhere anymore, not until after the baby was born.

He hopped in and cranked up the car. He was starting to get a big, wide grin across his face. He was up to something. He had an ace up his sleeve. He didn’t say much on the way to his house, just kept chuckling here and there as he thought about whatever it was he was planning to do at home instead of at the club.

We pulled up to the house, and he opened my door for me again, holding out his hand to help me out of the car. I managed on my own, thank you very much. He walked me up to his front door, taking each step with me slowly.

When we reached the top step, he opened the door and walked me through. We walked into the living room, where candles were already lit, waiting for us. I didn’t ask who had been in his house lighting candles for us. I figured it was probably one of the guys from the MC, probably Robby to be perfectly honest.

I knew something special was happening. He never lit candles, and we never spent time in the living room. In fact, that whole reason I never had to do much to clean his house was because he only used a few rooms – the kitchen, the dining room, his bedroom and bathroom, and the patio by the pool. The rest of the house was pretty much never touched.

“So, look, I know we haven’t been doing this for very long,” Blade started. He always seemed to humble himself around me. It was something I had noticed even when I had met him the first time. It was like I had caught him off guard and always seemed to catch him off balance after that.

I’d seen him with everyone else. He was always in charge. And if he didn’t start off that way, he was quick to take charge. Not around me, but I thought it was cute that I had that effect on him. It meant there was more to him than the rough exterior he showed other people.

He took both of my hands and stood in front of me. “I’ve already told you that I want you by my side and that if you stuck with me, I’d take care of your boy as if he were my own, right?”

“Right.”

His tone had turned serious, and it made my heart skip a beat. I wanted to ask him where all of this was going, but I almost didn’t want to hear the answer. I didn’t want to jinx it. If it was going where I thought it was going, I didn’t want to do anything to stop it.

He got down on one knee, and tears welled up in my eyes immediately. He took his hand back and reached into his pocket.

“Lucy Smithfield, you are a force to be reckoned with. You came into my life and showed me all hope is not lost, that the best days of my life lie ahead of me, and that there really are second chances in this life. So…will you marry me?”

He pulled out a ring box and opened it while he talked. Inside was a perfect diamond ring. It sparkled. It shined. It was everything I had ever expected it to be, and just like everything else in my life, it was coming from the most unlikely of places.

“Yes,” I shouted. It was all I could do not to jump for joy. A smile broke out across my face that I couldn’t contain.

He slowly slid the ring onto my finger, and it fit perfectly. I didn’t even hold it up to look at it like I always imagined myself doing. I was too overjoyed by the person who had given me the ring. I figured I’d get a chance to look at it later. As he stood up, I threw my arms around him and kissed him

I pressed my mouth hard against his, but as our bodies pressed together, as he pulled me against him with his arms around my waist, I felt a change in how our lips touched. The touch softened and grew more passionate.

His tongue entered my mouth, and I could taste him. I could taste all the years of smoke and whiskey on his breath, the years of living the life of a biker, the flavors that never went away.

He pulled my hips against his, and I could feel how much he wanted it me. I turned around and pressed my ass against him. I was so hot and wet from his touch, just from feeling him against me.

“Is it okay for the baby?” he asked, and I tried not to laugh.

“We still have a little while left,” I told him. It touched me that he cared enough to ask. Though he’d always been caring and gentle with me, the Blade I had met wouldn’t have asked any questions. He just would have run with what I was giving him. My Blade, the man who had put a ring on my finger just moments before, wanted to make sure he was doing everything right.

“Not here,” he whispered behind me.

A smirk played across my lips. It was the same thing he’d said before taking me to the house to propose to me. I reached back and grabbed his hand, pulling it up to my breast. I made him squeeze me through my shirt and my bra.

“Here,” I panted. “Right here. Bend me over the arm of the couch,” I demanded. I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. He’d changed me, or at least he’d woken part of me up that I didn’t know existed.

“No, I can’t make love to you on the couch,” he insisted.

Make love? I froze for a brief moment. Then, I pulled away from him and grabbed him by his vest. I pulled him upstairs with me, took him to his room, and crawled onto his bed – our bed.

“How about here?” I asked.

He rolled me over and grabbed my pants. He yanked them off me, and pulled my panties down slowly behind them. As his fingers ran down my legs, chills ran over my body. Goosebumps raised on my legs, my stomach, and across my arms.

He pulled my shirt off over my head and slowly took my bra off. I lay underneath him, writhing with pleasure, waiting for him to touch me again, as he sat up on his knees and started to undress for me.

I was so wet he didn’t need to do anything for me to be ready. He pulled his boxers down after his jeans, and I reached out to grab him. I wrapped my fingers around his stiff, full erection. I pumped him a few times to get him ready while he took off his vest and his shirt, revealing the sweet contours of his body to me.

“I’m yours,” I whispered up to him. “Do with me as you please. Make love to me, Blade.”

He slid himself into me, slowly at first. He leaned down over me and kissed my shoulders, kissed my neck, and finally kissed me on my lips, gentle, loving kisses.

“I love you,” he said as he started thrusting his hardened desire deep into my core. Pleasure shot out from between my legs to fill my whole body.

It wasn’t just his cock inside me. No, I’d felt that before. I knew what he felt like. I knew how he fucked me. No, this was something more. His words, finally spoken aloud, filled me with ecstasy.

“Say it again,” I panted, putting my hands behind his head, pulling him down to me so his lips were right next to my ear.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” I replied, breathlessly, realizing it was the first time we’d even said the words to each other. My body jerked beneath him. I was already cumming. He already had me there. White hot pleasure shot through my body and I gasped as each thrust pushed me deeper and deeper into the blinding ecstasy.

I squeezed my legs around his waist and felt my lips gripping his shaft, hugging him inside of me, creating more pleasuring friction with each of his thrusts.

I cried out again and tilted my head back, letting go of him as I let go of myself for him.

Then, he pushed himself deep inside of me, all the way against my inner wall, pressing himself harder and harder against me. I could feel his cock straining to contain itself.

“Cum for me, baby. Give yourself to me. Let me have you,” I told him. “I want you, all of you,” I pleaded.

He groaned, and then he erupted, filling me with his hot juice. I felt him filling me to the brim, as if he’d been saving up for me all this time.

I worked my hips against him, milking every last drop from him. I wanted all of him. I wanted him to empty himself inside me. We were together. We were one.

“Don’t stop,” I groaned to him, and he didn’t.

He started thrusting against me again as he finished, slowly rocking his hips, sliding in and out of me, until his body relaxed, and he collapsed by my side, panting.

I rolled over and put my hand on his chest. I could feel his heart pounding under my hand as his chest rose and fell. He smiled at me as he breathed heavily.

“I love you,” he said again, running his hand through my hair. He smiled like he enjoyed saying it.

“I love you, too,” I told him. It did feel good to say it. I laughed.

“What?” He propped his head up.

“You asked me to marry you before we ever said it,” I told him.

He laughed with me and pulled me down to kiss him. I knew everything was going to be okay. I was right where I belonged, and even though things weren’t always traditional around him and his biker family, it was right, and I was loved. And our son was going to be loved unconditionally while being raised by real men and women, not cowards like the men and women I had known before.

I had stepped off the beaten path, the path that had been laid out before me, and I had found my own road. It wasn’t necessarily less traveled, but the people on it looked out for each other and took care of their own.

I was one of their own now, and I wasn’t going anywhere else.

THE END

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HIS PLAYTHING: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Voodoo Devils MC)

By Zoey Parker

I USED HER AS MY TOY UNTIL SHE WAS TOO BROKEN TO FIX.

My little plaything does one thing only: whatever the f*ck I tell her to do.

I want her naked? Done. I want her moaning? Done.

I want her filled with my baby?

I just say the word, and she’ll be bent, wet, and ready.

Rules never meant much to me.

I take what I want, and dare other men to stop me.

And when it’s a woman I desire…

Well, they know better than to try resisting a man like me.

I’m too much to stop.

Too powerful to defy.

Too rugged and tattooed to ignore.

When an old friend calls with a plea for help, I decide to lend my aid.

Men to kill, money to steal, and a hot mafia princess to f*ck senseless?

It was an easy sell.

But this “simple fix” turns out to be a goddamn mess.

Before I know it, I’m up to my balls in drugs, betrayal, and a sea of dead bodies.

There’s only one thing keeping me going:

I’m not leaving until I’ve got the princess on her knees.

She’s too untouched, too virginal for me to let her go.

There’s a beast in me that needs to lay its claim on her…

And in her.

I’m gonna kill all the S.O.B.s around her.

Then I’m gonna sling her over my shoulder and teach her how to properly obey a man.

It won’t be easy.

It won’t be pretty.

But one way or another, I’m gonna turn her into my newest toy.

Prologue

Skull

In a dusty garage at the edge of New Orleans, right where the seedy motels and strip malls start to give way to the muddy trails of the bayou, the tops of a dozen beer cans popped off like a string of fireworks. Twelve men stood around a hulking eighteen-wheeler, wearing leather vests with patches that said “Voodoo Devils” and holding up their drinks triumphantly.

Howard “Skull” Scofield stood on the hood of the truck and looked down at the members of his MC. Their dirty, hairy, grinning faces were lit by the flickering bulbs that hung from the ceiling. His vest matched theirs perfectly except for the name tag on his chest, and the narrow patch beneath it which read “President.”

Standing on top of a stolen treasure and surrounded by his loyal band of brothers, Skull felt like a pirate captain on the high seas. His chest swelled with pride as he lifted his beer can.

“Devils,” he bellowed happily, “here's to the biggest score we've ever pulled off! And best of all, once we unload it, every penny of this motherfucker is ours. There's no one to cut in or kick up to—just a quarter mil in electronics, split twelve ways.”

The bikers cheered loudly, clunking their cans together and gulping them down.

“Over twenty grand for ten minutes' work,” cackled Bumper, the club's VP. Beer foam clung to his tangled brown beard. “Who else ever earned that much, huh?”

“Not Panda's mom, that's for sure,” Ash crowed, pointing to the Devil next to him. “She only charges two bucks, and that's when she ain't getting paid in food stamps!” The others laughed, including Panda as he cuffed Ash upside the head good-naturedly.

Skull finished his beer and climbed down from the hood of the truck, grabbing another can. “Okay, so I've lined up a fence for us up in Baton Rouge. He says he can exchange the merch for the money first thing tomorrow, so I'm taking Ash and Panda with me as backup and leaving Bumper in charge. Once we get the cash in hand, it's important that we don't flash too much of it around for the first couple weeks, understand? We don't want to attract any—”

There was a knock on the garage door. All of the Devils turned to look.

“—attention,” Skull finished, narrowing his eyes.

He looked around, doing a quick head count to make sure all of the Devils were already there. They were.

“All right, what the fuck is this?” Skull asked, staring down the others. “No one was supposed to know we were here. Did one of you assholes invite your girlfriend or something?”

The confused bikers looked around at each other, shaking their heads. Some of them were already uneasily reaching for guns, knives, and wrenches.

Another knock. Politely gentle, but insistent.

“With a knock like that, it ain't the fucking cops, that's for sure,” Bumper pointed out.

“Then who is it?” Panda asked, his beady eyes bulging in his fat, ruddy face.

“Someone worse,” Skull sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ash's jaw dropped. “Him? But you said—”

A third knock. Louder this time. Less patient.

“Forget what I fucking said,” Skull snapped. “Just keep your mouths shut and let me do the talking, okay? This could get bloody in a hurry if we don't play it right. And for Christ's sake, put those weapons away before you get us all killed.”

Skull took a deep breath as he walked to the door. His pulse had stayed steady when the Devils had hijacked the truck less than an hour ago, but now his heart was hammering in his ears and it took every ounce of control he had to keep his hands from shaking. He'd never considered this possibility while planning the robbery, but holy fuck, if the person at the door was who he thought it was, then it might turn out that he'd made the single biggest mistake of his entire goddamn life.

He only hoped he hadn't taken the rest of the Devils down with him.

Skull opened the door, revealing a short, sleek-looking man in his early sixties. He had olive skin and heavy eyelids, and his slicked-back hair was snow white. He wore an Armani suit with a silk shirt and tie, and a gold pinky ring with a large ruby in it.

Even though Skull had only met the man once before, he had no trouble remembering him. He was Don Benvolio “Benny” Altamura, the most powerful gangster in Louisiana.

And whenever he felt the need to show up in person, things generally didn't end well.

“Mr. Scofield,” Benny greeted him pleasantly. Although he'd moved to America as a young man, his voice still retained the faint lilt of his Italian accent. “It has been far too long since we have had occasion to converse. May I enter?”

“Certainly, Don Altamura,” Skull replied, forcing a smile. “Please, come in. You, uh, honor us with your presence.”

Skull felt like an awkward douchebag trying to frame his words so formally, but he knew that Benny took pride in being old-school when it came to showing respect, down to the smallest detail. The tiniest slip-up could be fatal for the whole MC.

But why? Skull thought, frustrated. There's no reason for him to even be here, is there? I thought of everything when I planned this job, I'm sure of it. I made sure he wasn't connected to this in any way. What could I have missed?

Benny stepped into the garage, the raised heels of his polished black loafers clicking on the grimy concrete floor. Even with the lifts in his shoes, he still only came up to Skull's shoulders.

But then, Benny Altamura was living proof that a person didn't need to be tall to be scary as hell.

Benny looked up at the truck with mild curiosity, as though he was thinking of buying one. “Ah, here it is. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in computer equipment. No doubt you have plans for that kind of money, yes? But since I did not hear about this theft from you, I am left to assume that those plans did not include giving me what I am owed.”

Skull felt the other Devils bristle around him. He couldn't blame them. This wasn't supposed to happen, damn it. This whole score was supposed to be theirs, free and clear.

“With respect, Don Altamura,” Skull began, trying to keep his voice calm and low, “we didn't realize you were, um...I mean, we did our, uh, due diligence when we planned this out. We made sure this trucking company wasn't affiliated with any of your, y'know, associates. We even asked around to, uh, make sure you had no plans to hijack this truck yourself. We'd never do anything to intentionally interfere with your business. So I think it's fair to say that we're...well, confused by all this, is what I'm getting at.”

Benny smiled, shaking his head. “I see. Then perhaps it will clarify things for you when I point out that even if the truck didn't belong to me, this city still does. When we first met and you requested permission to operate here, I told you that I would graciously allow you to ride around on your bikes and pull your small-time scores. Marijuana, guns, stolen cars. These things are beneath my interest. But stealing a quarter of a million dollars in merchandise without seeking my permission—or paying my tribute—is simply unacceptable.”

Skull swallowed hard. “Sure. I see your point. And I, uh, beg your forgiveness, and of course I'll be happy to give you a cut of this. A big one, just so you know this was a total misunderstanding and there's no hard feelings. Twenty-five percent, how about that?”

Benny's dark eyes drilled holes in Skull, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Okay, fifty percent,” Skull said. “Just to show you we're committed to making this right.”

Benny stepped forward, putting his left hand up on Skull's shoulder and squeezing it. For a moment, Skull relaxed, believing they'd reached an accord. Sure, giving up half their take was a bummer, but at least the Devils would be left with a decent amount and they'd get out of this in one piece...

Suddenly, Skull felt a battering ram smash into his midsection. Benny's fist moved like lightning as it delivered another savage blow just under Skull's ribs. The air left Skull's lungs and he doubled over just as Benny pulled a handgun from a holster under his jacket, pistol-whipping him in the face.

Even through his doubled vision and the ringing in his ears, Skull saw the other Devils start forward menacingly. He held up a hand to stop them. “Don't,” he slurred, tasting blood. “Stay back.”

“Yes, listen to your president,” Benny told them. “I have twenty men outside with machine guns. If any of you put a hand on me, you will all be exterminated in less than two minutes.”

He put a hand around Skull's throat, leering down at the biker's bleeding face. “Perhaps if you had approached me beforehand, you would be in a position to negotiate. Since you chose not to, you have forfeited your rights to this truck and everything in it. These are the rules, and as men, we must live by them. You should be grateful that I do not simply murder you right here, along with the rest of this yellow trash you call an MC. But make no mistake—if you ever defy me in this manner again, I will end every last one of you. Do you understand me, Mr. Scofield?”

Skull's pride writhed and yowled in his gut like a wounded animal. He was a born street fighter who'd never backed down from a brawl in his life, and the humiliation of being forced to grovel and roll over like this made him wish he was dead.

But Benny wasn't known for making idle threats, and Skull knew that if he didn't go along, every member of the Devils would be slaughtered.

He nodded.

Benny released him, returning his gun to its holster and wiping his hands on a handkerchief with a faint grimace. “Good. Now give me the keys, please.”

Skull pulled the keys to the truck from the pocket of his jeans, handing them over. Benny took them and walked over to a button on the wall, pushing it. The huge main door of the garage rattled as it was pulled upward, letting in the humid bayou air. Benny's gangsters stood outside, holding compact machine pistols.

Benny gestured to one of his men, tossing the keys to him. The man caught them and climbed up into the cab of the truck. The engine came to life and the man slowly backed the truck out of the garage, driving off.

“Gentlemen,” Benny said, “enjoy the rest of your evening.” He walked off into the night, followed by his soldiers.

Bumper lunged forward, crouching down in front of Skull. “You okay, man? Anything broken?”

“That greaseball cocksucker,” Ash fumed. “He doesn't give a shit about the rules, he's just a greedy prick. We're not gonna let him get away with ripping us off like that, right?”

“We should firebomb his goddamn house,” Panda snarled. “And all his fucking businesses, too. We should shotgun everyone who works for him, and then grab him and cut his head off.”

“Yeah? How exactly are we supposed to do any of that shit and get away with it?” Bumper asked angrily. “They're the fucking Mafia, in case you haven't noticed. They've got more guys, they've got more guns. We start an all-out war with them, they'll mop the floor with us, guaranteed.”

“So we're just supposed to bend over and take it?” Ash retorted hotly. “Is that why we joined a fucking MC? So we could let some asswipe in a fancy suit walk in and piss on us whenever he feels like it?”

“Ash is right,” Skull said quietly, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “We're Voodoo Devils. The day we start acting like pussies and pushovers is the day we may as well hang up our cuts.”

“Fucking suicide run,” Bumper grunted.

“You're right too,” Skull continued. “We go head-to-head with the Altamura, we'll end up at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain with cement blocks tied to our ankles.”

“So what are you saying?” Panda asked, frowning.

“He's talking nonsense,” Bumper said. “His head must have taken a harder hit than we thought.”

Skull shook his head stubbornly. “No. I'm saying we need to get some fucking payback, and I'm saying we won't be able to get it by fighting like we usually would. We'll need to come up with something else. Something smarter.”

The Devils traded uncertain looks.

“Like what?” asked Ash.

“I don't know,” said Skull, smiling slowly. “But I think I know someone who can help.”

Chapter 1

Bax

Bax Barton poured himself more champagne, admiring how the golden bubbles seemed to dance and twirl in his glass like high-priced strippers. The familiar thrill of victory radiated through every cell in his body like warm sunlight. He leaned over his lunch of caviar and prime rib and toasted David Choi, the smiling, baby-faced Chinese-American man sitting across the table from him.

“Here's to another successful score,” David said, beaming. “I still can't believe we managed to pull off the Beijing Tea House scam in fucking Houston.”

“Hey, if I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times,” Bax replied, sipping his champagne. “You can run any con, anywhere, with absolutely anyone. All you have to do—”

“—is know how to sell it,” David finished with him, laughing.

They were sitting in the Longhorn Supper Club, surrounded by polished mahogany paneling and sparkling gold fixtures. This was one of the most extravagant restaurants in Texas, where senators made deals with oil billionaires and paid more for their meals than most families spent on food in a week.

Later, when they hit the road on their motorcycles, Bax and David would don the well-worn riding gear they were more comfortable in—jeans, t-shirts, cowboy boots, and sleeveless leather vests with faded patches that told stories of where they'd been and which MCs they'd previously been affiliated with. But for now, they were clean-cut and wore expensive suits and ties, as though they'd just stepped out of a board meeting at a Fortune 500 company.

In Bax's experience, it was important to make both of these looks work. Either one was capable of comforting or intimidating, depending on the mark and the situation.

“I still say you almost pooched the deal, though,” David chided him, stealing a bite of scalloped potatoes from Bax's plate. “Making goo-goo eyes at the guy's wife, I mean.”

“I was just trying to be charming,” Bax insisted.

“Bullshit,” David snickered. “You wanted a piece so you went for it, like you always do. And if I hadn't been able to distract the husband, he'd have kicked you in the balls and the whole damn thing would have gone out the window.”

“I wasn't worried for a moment,” said Bax. “A slick, talented operator like you? I knew how easy it would be for you to keep him busy.”

David rolled his eyes. “I appreciate the handjob, Bax, but I'm being serious here. You're the most gifted con artist I've ever worked with, and you're smarter than I am by a country mile. Hell, you might even be one of the best hustlers in the world right now. But if you can't learn a little self-control and keep it in your pants when it counts, you'll end up dead somewhere with your dick cut off and a mud hole stomped in your ass, and you'll have flushed all that potential down the toilet.”

“But what's the point of living the romantic life of a wandering outlaw without the romance?” Bax asked playfully.

“Shit, the money we just made? You can buy all the romance you want,” David said.

“Paying for it's just not the same, man. It's that look in their eyes when they want you, you know? There's nothing in the world like it. And no one can fake it, either, no matter how much you pay them...or at least, they can't fake it well enough to fool me.”

“I give up,” sighed David. “You're fucking hopeless. So where should we go next?”

“I don't know. Miami? Boston? Mexico City?” Bax suggested. “Wherever the money's green.”

“Is Mexican money green?” David asked, frowning.

Bax shrugged. “One way to find out, right?”

Bax's cell phone trilled and he took it out of his pocket, looking at the caller ID. It was a Louisiana number he hadn't seen or thought about in years. His eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth slowly pulled back into a grin.

Holy shit, Bax thought. It's Skull. But why would he be calling after such a long time? We used to be close, sure, but Skull was never the kind of guy who'd call someone just to aimlessly shoot the shit.

Maybe he's in trouble.

“Give me a minute,” Bax said, getting up from the table.

“Fine,” David retorted. “But I'm taking the rest of your prime rib.”

As Bax walked over to the window, memories of Skull flooded his mind. They'd grown up together in Grosse Tete—or “Gross Tits,” as they'd called it—just outside of Baton Rouge. As teens, they shared a fascination with motorcycles and decided to form a gang with a few of their friends. Back then, they were just a pack of bored and reckless punks—racing their bikes, vandalizing property, and terrorizing the more conservative locals with their long hair and loud music. Bax was the one who'd come up with the name The Voodoo Devils. But as they got older, Bax decided it was time to hit the open road and find new adventures.

Well, perhaps “decided to find new adventures” wasn't entirely accurate. Perhaps “got caught with his dick in the sheriff's daughter and had to leave town in a hurry” was a little more on the nose.

Damn, maybe David's got a point, Bax mused. This has been kind of an ongoing theme in my life.

Before Bax could take the call, a waiter appeared by his side, eyeing the phone apprehensively. “Excuse me, sir? I'm afraid we don't allow our patrons to talk on their cellular phones here. It's impolite, and it upsets the other diners.”

“Oh, you mean this?” Bax asked, indicating the phone. “I know it looks like a cell phone, but it's not.”

The waiter raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”

“Yeah, this is actually a combination shaving razor, potato peeler, and pocket watch,” Bax continued. “Benjamin Franklin invented it back in 1754. Here, I'll let him tell you about it himself.” He pulled a hundred dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it to the waiter, who pocketed it and promptly vanished without another word.

Bax answered the phone. “Jesus, Skull, is that you?”

“None other,” Skull answered. “How's it hanging, Bax?”

Bax was happy to hear his old friend's voice, but he couldn't help but notice that it sounded blunted somehow, as though Skull's lips were swollen.

“Hanging, hell. Most of the time, it stands up and dances the Hokey Pokey. Hey, Skull, is something wrong? Your voice is funny.”

“Yeah, I took a mother of a beating about an hour ago,” Skull said.

“That's a normal Tuesday night for you, though, right?” teased Bax. “Anyway, I hope whoever it was, he's currently wondering how he'll wipe his ass with two broken arms.”

“It was Benny Altamura.”

“There's another Benny Altamura?” Bax asked.

“No,” Skull responded flatly. “There ain't.”

Bax let out a low whistle. “Then you're lucky to be alive. That little psycho usually doesn't do beatings, just executions. What the fuck did you do to piss him off?”

Skull told him what happened with the truck and the quarter million. As he did, Bax pulled a notepad and pencil from his breast pocket, jotting down notes and names.

“We can't let this stand, man,” Skull finished.

“No, you certainly can't,” Bax agreed. “But if you take a shot at Benny and miss—or even if you don't miss—then everyone wearing a Devils patch is going to end up with a hell of a case of lead poisoning. I'm guessing that's why you're calling me?”

“You always were the man with the plan, Bax,” Skull said. “If anyone can figure out a way to take this cocksucker down without starting a war, it's you. We need that quarter mil back.”

Bax snorted derisively. “Skull, by the time I'm done with this pasta-munching motherfucker, a quarter mil is going to seem like loose change to you.”

“You mean that?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” said Bax. “Here, hang on for a second.”

He walked over to his table again, just in time to watch David shove the last few bites of prime rib and potatoes into his mouth.

“Change of plans. We're heading to Louisiana to run a classic Spanish Prisoner con.” He handed the notepad to David. “These are the guys we'll need to pull it off. Go grab them, and don't take no for an answer. Let them know this is going to be a massive payday. I'm talking high six figures for each person involved.”

David looked at the list dubiously. “Should I tell them you're the one running this thing?”

“Sure,” Bax said. He thought for a moment, then added, “Well, you can tell Millie, anyway. Maybe it'd be best if Harry didn't know I was involved, at least not right away.”

“Why?” David asked. “You fuck his sister or something?”

“No!” Bax replied defensively. The truth was, he actually had, but that wasn't why Harry didn't much care for him anymore. Still, he was fairly certain Harry would be onboard once he found out how much money they could all make from this score.

“Once you've got them,” Bax continued, “meet me in New Orleans in three days.”

“You got it,” David said. “Can I get dessert first?”

“Fuck dessert,” Bax answered. “You hit the road now, and when this thing pays off in a few weeks, you can buy your own chocolate factory and spend the rest of your life playing Willie Wonka with it. Now go.”

David nodded and got up, heading for the door.

“Did I hear you say you'd be here in three days?” Skull asked. “I'll be honest, I was really hoping we could kick this off sooner.”

“Trust me, it'll be worth the wait,” said Bax. “I need to make a stop first, to talk to someone whose help we'll need if we're going to pull this off. Meanwhile, give me everything you know about Altamura.”

“Well, mostly I just know what everyone knows about him,” Skull said, thinking it over. “I mean, he's the undisputed boss of New Orleans, and he controls most of the heroin trade in the state. He likes to make a big show of how old-school he is...you know, the whole 'Sicilian man of honor' act, and all his fancy talk. But the truth is, he's just a selfish thug, a big fish in a small pond.”

“Good, good,” Bax murmured. “We can use that. But does he have any weaknesses?”

“What, like kryptonite?”

Bax chuckled. “Like personal stuff, dummy. His habits, his fetishes, his friends and family...”

“Well, I don't know much about his private life,” said Skull. “I ain't even sure he's got one. But since you mentioned family, I've heard some stuff about how he's trying to marry off his daughter.”

Bax grinned. “Tell me more.”

Chapter 2

Stef

Stefania Altamura impatiently drummed her fingers on the dining room table, ignoring the meal in front of her and wishing the minutes would pass more quickly.

At the other end of the long table, her father Benny and her mother Gracie were eating spaghetti in heavy red sauce, with spicy sausage and meatballs on the side. Benny mopped his plate with a hunk of bread, slathering it with butter and stuffing it into his mouth.

By contrast, Stef's plate looked like a minimalist art project. A small pile of wilted greens, a slice of dry-looking turkey breast, and a dollop of plain yogurt. With a whole lot of empty space in between.

“Stef, sit up straight and take your elbows off the table,” her mother said curtly. “No one's going to want to marry a hunchback, especially one with bad manners.”

Stef sighed, straightening up and putting her arms down at the sides of her chair. Of all the things she hated about living with her parents, she had come to despise meal times most of all. She loathed the unappetizing food her mother prepared for her, always based on the latest—and most vile—health trends Gracie read about online. Even when she could force herself to eat everything on her plate, she still felt hungry and miserable all the time.

More than that, she couldn't stand the constant scrutiny and criticism. Most of the time, she could spend the rest of the day in her room, reading or watching TV. But when it was time to eat, she felt like she was being studied under a microscope.

“She's wearing too much makeup,” her father commented, shoving a forkful of sausage into his mouth. “Gracie, ask her why she's wearing so much makeup.”

“Sweetie, we've been over this and over this,” Gracie said to Stef in her most frustrated and long-suffering tone. “When you put on makeup, you need to go slow and use the techniques I've taught you. Otherwise, you look like a puttana or something from the circus.”

Stef felt a volcanic flash of rage run through her, but she did her best to keep it under control. Ever since she'd turned twenty-one last year, her parents had taken control of every aspect of her life—trying to turn her into the perfect prospective bride for a seemingly never-ending parade of male heirs from other Mafia families. They kept a close watch over how she dressed, where she went, and who she spent time with. She had almost no friends, and she was strictly forbidden from interacting with any boys that weren't introduced to her by her father. The way her father saw things, it would be harder for her to attract a respectable mate if she got a reputation as a slut.

When Stef asked her parents why things had to be this way now, Benny had told her that he was getting older, and it was time to start thinking about who would take over his businesses if anything happened to him. Since he'd never had any sons, old-world traditions dictated that his daughter marry a man who could fill this role. Stef had tried to protest, but Benny had made it very clear that as long as she was living under her roof, she'd obey him.

So far, Stef had met almost a dozen boys from different crime families across the country, and she'd refused each of their proposals. But she knew she couldn't keep refusing them for much longer, or else she'd tempt her father's wrath and he'd punish her by taking away the few privileges she had left.

But then she'd met Arthur.

To be fair, she'd never actually “met” Arthur. She'd connected with him via her social media account—one of the few ways in which she was allowed to communicate with the outside world unsupervised. He was good-looking and had a perfect smile, and they enjoyed a lot of the same books and movies. They'd chatted for hours, and last night, Stef had finally summoned the courage to suggest that they meet in person. She made arrangements for her friend Alice to say she'd be spending a few hours at her place, but once she was there, Stef planned to sneak out the back and have ice cream with Arthur at a nearby diner.

And her parents would never have to know.

All Stef had to do was survive a few more minutes of torture at the dinner table, and then she'd be on the first date she'd truly planned for herself in over a year. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, thinking of Arthur's blue eyes and straight white teeth. She wondered what it would be like to get a goodnight kiss from him.

“Make sure you wash some of that greasepaint off your face after dinner,” her father said, dabbing at the corners of his lips with his napkin. “And pick out something nicer to wear. Tonight, I'm going to introduce you to Carmine Ficociello. His father runs the unions in Philly.”

“I can't tonight, Dad,” Stef reminded him uneasily. “I'm going over to Alice's place, remember?”

Benny reached into his back pocket and pulled out a photograph, sliding it across the table to her. “I wouldn't worry too much about those plans. They've been canceled.”

Stef looked down at the photo, and her breath caught in her throat like shards of broken glass. In it, Arthur was lying on the floor of a basement, bruised and bleeding. Three men in ski masks stood over him, holding baseball bats.

Her father looked at her with raised eyebrows. Her mother stared down at her empty plate, her lips pursed.

“How could you do this to him?” Stef hissed. She could feel hot tears welling up in her eyes, making the gory image double and triple before her.

“I didn't do this to him,” Benny countered, pointing his fork in Stef's direction. “You did it when you made plans to see him behind my back. From now on, you'll have no more computer, no more access to the internet. And you won't be allowed to see Alice anymore, either. She's lucky I don't have my guys work her over too.”

“Why do you have to treat me like this?” Stef yelled, standing up from the table and throwing the photo in Benny's face. “Why are you so cruel?”

“Every child asks that of their parent sooner or later,” her father said, trying to sound soothing and reasonable. His tone only made Stef more furious. “'Why do I have to do what you say? Why can't I do what I want?' But that's because even at twenty-one, you're still a child, Stef. You still don't see that everything I do, I do because it's what's best for you, and for this family. One day, when you have children of your own, maybe you'll understand.”

“I hate you!” Stef shrieked, storming out of the room.

“You can hate me all you want,” Benny called after her. “You can slam the door to your room as hard as you want, too. But you'd better make sure you're ready to meet Carmine in an hour, and you'd better be done with these tantrums by then, or I might have to pay Alice a visit after all.”

Stef stomped up the stairs and into her room, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Thinking of what had happened to Arthur made her want to throw up, especially since she knew that on some level, her father was right. It was her fault. She hadn't told Arthur what business her father was in, or how angry he'd be if he found out about them. She'd been stupid enough to think she could hide her relationship with him from her parents. And he'd paid the price, and who knew how badly they'd beaten him? Was he crippled? Would he die from internal bleeding?

She'd never be able to find out now.

For the millionth time, Stef fantasized about running away from home—just packing a bag and getting as far away from all of this as she could. No more threats from her father, no more disapproving looks from her mother. She could wear what she wanted, eat what she wanted, fall in love with whoever she wanted.

But these fantasies never lasted long, because she understood how sheltered she'd been her entire life. Her parents had never allowed her to learn how to drive a car, since even that would be too much independence. She had no money of her own, and even if she did, she wouldn't be able to buy a ticket for a bus, plane, or train without Benny finding out. She had no friends she could stay with, no way of knowing how to make it in the world alone.

She was trapped.

Once she got her tears under control, Stef walked over to her mirror and started to wipe the makeup from her face so she could re-apply it in time to meet Carmine.

As much as she hated it, she couldn't think of a single other thing to do.

Chapter 3

Bax

Bax swirled the tumbler of aged scotch, peering out the penthouse window of Crockett Plaza. It was one of the tallest buildings in Dallas, and the streets and homes were so far below him that they looked like detailed miniatures from a model train set.

“Hell of a view you've got here, Tommy,” Bax commented. “Better than the view we had upstate in D Block, huh?”

Behind him, Thomas Quattrocchi grunted his agreement and fussily rifled through the papers on his desk for the fourth time since Bax had walked in. Bax watched the bespectacled man's discomfort reflected in the window glass, enjoying it. Quattrocchi had long ago earned the nickname “Tommy Quarters,” since his early crimes had generally involved shaking down parking meters and jukeboxes. But in the three decades since then, he'd risen in the ranks of the Parrino crime family, achieving the rank of consigliere or “trusted advisor.”

Bax took a sip from his tumbler, savoring the burning flavor that gave way to the sweet aftertaste of oak and liquid gold. “This is some incredible scotch, too. What's that aged? Fifty years?”

“Something like that,” Tommy sighed impatiently.

“Man, that's swell,” Bax continued. “You sure have come a long way, haven't you, Tommy? Hey, remember that pruno we used to brew in the toilet bowl? We used to use the fruit cocktail they gave us in the chow line, plus some ketchup, sugar, bread crusts for the yeast—”

“Yeah, sure, I remember, okay?” Tommy snapped, tossing the papers to one side. “I also remember that we were gonna sell that hooch to Big Lester to square my gambling debt. Instead, you used it to try to charm that corrections officer named Deborah, and you left me hanging. Look, Bax, I'd love to believe you came by today to shoot the breeze about when we were cellmates up in Ditchfield. That way, I could just tell you to fuck off and be done with it. But since we both know you've got something else in mind, why don't you just come out and say it instead of wasting my time with this cutesy, mysterious Memory Lane horseshit?”

Bax raised an eyebrow mildly. “Wow. Sounds like someone woke up on the cranky side of the bed today.”

“Not all of us get to spend our lives standing around in fancy suits and making quips, shitbird.” Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temples. “Jesus, I thought getting promoted would mean less work, not more. Sit back, relax, delegate, and wait for the guys under me to kick up what they owe. Instead, Old Man Parrino's got me busier than a one-armed pimp in a bitch-slapping contest. Little Ralphie just got picked up by the Feds last week, which means I've gotta make sure he's either sprung or shivved before they get him talking. Plus I've got to deal with these Russians who are setting up shop down in Corpus Christi, and it's the busy season for sports betting, so...”

“Yikes,” said Bax. “Parrino's gonna crap a litter of lizards when you tell him you're going to be gone for the next month or so.”

“And why the fuck would I tell him that?” Tommy asked.

Bax finished his drink and set the glass down on Tommy's desk. “You just said it yourself, Tommy. Thirty years of busting your hump for Parrino, laughing at his stupid jokes and kissing his ass, and you still feel overworked and underpaid. And you're second in command, and you know you'll never reach the top unless you whack Parrino and both his sons—which we both know you don't have the stomach for. So it seems to me like the only way you're ever gonna actually get the life of leisure and luxury that you want is by stumbling over a random fucking pot of gold. Well, here I am. Consider me your own personal goddamn leprechaun.”

Tommy chuckled. “I'm Sicilian, Bax. We don't believe in leprechauns. But okay, go ahead and give me your pitch. It should be good for a laugh, at least.”

Bax sat on the edge of the desk. “You know Don Altamura over in New Orleans? Long story short, he ripped off a friend of mine, and I promised I'd get him some payback with interest. I've got the whole thing planned out, and when it's over, everyone involved is gonna come out the other side with enough money to retire on.”

“Oh really?” Tommy smirked. “How do you plan to reel in a fish that big?”

“By using the oldest con in the book.”

“If it's such an old con, won't he see it coming from a mile away?”

“They never see it coming,” Bax assured him. “That's why it's the oldest one in the book. No one ever went hungry betting on people's greed, especially guys like Altamura.”

“So what do you need me for?”

“You're gonna be the most important part of this whole thing,” said Bax. “See, if this is going to work, Altamura will have to believe that I'm the heir to a Mafia family. But the only thing that'll convince him is if a trusted, high-ranking member of la cosa nostra makes the introduction, so—”

Tommy threw back his head and laughed. Bax waited patiently for him to stop, but the cackling continued for several minutes, until Tommy's face was red and tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“That's your plan?” Tommy asked when he could finally get enough breath in his lungs. “Are you the dumbest fuck who's ever walked the earth, or what? First of all, look at you, with your spiky, moussed-up blonde hair, and your fruity little Brooks Brothers monkey suit! You look like some kind of Wall Street yuppie. There's no way anyone would even believe you're Italian, let alone a made guy.”

“Yeah, but some hair dye and contact lenses can give me the right look,” Bax insisted. “And you can help me with the rest. Give me some coaching so I can walk the walk and talk the talk.”

“Even if I thought that would work—which it wouldn't, by the way, not in a billion fucking years—I still swore an oath never to betray this organization. That includes all the families in all the states. I make this introduction, and my life ain't worth stale dogshit. I'd be better off jumping out that window behind you.”

“So you won't do it, then? Not even for me, Tommy? Not after all we've been through together?” Bax asked, pouting theatrically. Inwardly, he was loving this. He'd hoped that the carrot would be enough to convince Tommy to help him, but hey, the stick was fine too.

“Bax—and I say this to you with all the love and respect in the world, man, I really do—but go get fucked and die in a fire, okay? We haven't 'been through anything together,' we just served a few months in the same cell.”

“But I have such fond and treasured memories from that enchanted time,” Bax sighed wistfully. “For instance, I remember one magical day when a certain someone sold heroin to D'Aundre Walker, who tragically OD'd on it—”

The color drained from Tommy's face as his eyes widened. “Don't you do that.”

“—and hey, it turned out that D'Aundre's father was none other than Jerell 'J-Gunz' Walker, one of the biggest gang bosses in California! Man, that was some rotten luck for you, huh? Christ, can you imagine what that guy would do if he found out who sold the junk to his kid?”

Tommy's eyes blazed with anger. “I'm fucking serious, Bax. Don't you dare bring that up.”

Bax shrugged. “Well, I certainly wasn't ever planning to tell anyone, out of respect for our relationship. But now you're telling me I was wrong about how close we are, so...”

Tommy stood up, kicking the trash can next to his desk. It hit the opposite wall hard, and the cheap plastic split down the side. “You're a real piece of garbage, you know that, Bax?”

“Hey, I walked in here offering you more money than you've ever seen in your life, and a chance to stop shining Parrino's shoes and picking up his dry cleaning. You're the one who wanted to play it like a hard-on, so here we are. Now come on—take a few deep breaths, pick up the phone, tell Parrino something came up and you have to leave town for a while, and let your old pal Baxie make you into the richest motherfucker you know. How about it?”

Tommy banged his forehead against his desk, letting out a sound that was somewhere between a roar of fury and a groan of acceptance. Then he raised his head again, rubbing his eyes and looking at Bax.

“That suit's gotta go,” he said. “And you're gonna need more than just hair dye and contacts to pass as a paisan. Your vocabulary, your whaddayacallit—inflection, shit, even the way you stand still. We're gonna have to work on all of it if this menefreghista plan is gonna have a snowball's chance in hell.”

“Tommy,” Bax assured him, “consider me clay in the hands of a master sculptor.”

Chapter 4

Bax

“Are we getting close?” Tommy yelled in Bax's ear for the ninth time that afternoon, his arms tightening around Bax's waist.

Bax winced at the noise and the pressure on his midsection. Even though he knew the odds of this scam working without Tommy's help were slim to none, he was still giving serious thought to simply dumping Tommy off the back of the bike and riding off without him, given how much bitching and moaning he'd already had to put up with.

“I'll tell you when we're close,” Bax said. “Until then, keep your mouth shut and quit squirming around back there.”

“My fucking pants are riding up on me,” Tommy whined.

“I warned you not to wear a suit on a motorcycle.”

“But all I got are suits! Damn, this shit's uncomfortable. And this dumb-looking helmet's gonna fuck up my hair.”

“So take it off.”

“I can't!” Tommy shrieked. “You're riding this thing like some kind of maniac!”

“So have fucked-up hair, then.”

Bax took a deep breath. He tried to ignore Tommy, focusing on the warm breeze on his face and the lush green swamps of Louisiana on either side of the road. He loved cruising on his bike, and he hated knowing that he'd have to stay off it for a few weeks while they conned Altamura. He consoled himself with the thought that if the scam went the way it was supposed to, he could buy a dozen bikes and a private road to ride them on.

“What about these other guys of yours?” Tommy asked.

“I already told them where and when to meet us. They should show up around the same time we do. Now for Christ's sake, pipe down and ease up, will you? You hold onto me any tighter and my liver's gonna come squirting out of my nose.”

Tommy didn't talk for the rest of the trip, but his arms didn't loosen their grip.

Finally, they pulled up in front of The Lucky Hand, a squat roadhouse that served as the base of operations for The Voodoo Devils. Bax killed the engine, put down the kickstand, and unstrapped his helmet, smiling at the sign on the door that said “Private Party Tonight.”

Tommy took off the spare helmet, tucking it under his arm and grimacing at the bar. “Maddon', this place is a fucking dump. I feel like I could get a bad case of crabs just by looking at it.”

Before Bax could respond, the door flew open and Skull burst out, beaming at Bax. “Holy shit, there he is!” He ran up to them, throwing his arms around Bax and lifting him off the ground happily.

“The Skull and the Brain, together again at last,” Bax wheezed, patting Skull on the back. “Now put me down, huh? I already got half my ribs squeezed in on the way here, I don't need the other half busted too.”

Skull put him down again. “Sorry, man. It's just...what's it been, ten years? You ain't changed a bit.”

“Wish I could say the same for you,” Bax retorted, poking Skull's stomach. “I told you not to eat those pork rinds all the time, didn't I? Now look at you.”

Skull laughed. “Same old Bax, always busting balls.” He looked at Tommy. “Who's your friend?”

“Skull, meet Tommy Quarters. He may not look like much, but think of him as the golden key that's gonna open all the doors we need opened. Now let's go inside and go over the plan. The rest of my team should be showing up any minute.”

They walked into the roadhouse and Bax looked around at the other members of the Devils. “Wow, Skull. You've really built this MC into something heavy, huh? And you can vouch for the loyalty of everyone in here?”

“Damn straight,” Skull affirmed.

“You're absolutely sure about that?” Tommy asked. “Because if even one of these apes thinks he can make some extra cash by selling us out to Altamura—”

Skull's meaty hand clamped down on Tommy's shoulder hard. “You've been in here for all of five seconds, and you're already questioning how righteous my guys are? You must carry your balls around in a fucking wheelbarrow, pal.”

“Easy, Skull,” Bax said. “Tommy's just a little nervous, that's all. This ain't his usual scene.” He turned to Tommy. “You might want to go ahead and say you're sorry, before Skull puts your nose through your fucking brain.”

Tommy opened his mouth to crack wise, then closed it. “I was impolite,” he murmured. “I apologize.”

“There, see? Now we can all be friends,” said Bax, slapping them both on the back.

The door opened again and David walked in, followed by three other people. The first was a tall black man in his forties with a shaved head and gold hoops dangling from his ears. The second was a short woman in her early thirties with a delicate frame and a white streak in her otherwise-brown hair. The third was a man in his late twenties who was built like a refrigerator, with a round, hairless, piggy face and slab-like arms.

The black man's eyes fell on Bax and he immediately exclaimed, “No. No, nope, all the no in the fucking world, uh-uh, fuck off, goodbye.” He turned to leave.

“Aw, come on, Harry!” Bax called out, grinning.

Harry whirled around again, furious. “I should have known. When David said he wasn't gonna tell me who was running this con, I should have known that meant it was you, and I should have shut it down right then. But no, instead I end up dragging my ass from LA all the way out here to fucking alligator country, just to find out it's you...”

“Yeah, but you're here now, right? So okay, fine, it's me. You may as well stick around and find out what the score is.”

“Why bother?” Harry asked. “All I'll hear is the part where I'm supposed to get giddy about how much cash is involved and how easy it's supposed to be. I won't hear about what happens later, when you figure out a way to get a bigger piece for yourself and change the plan without telling the rest of us.”

“Harry, that hurts me,” Bax replied with a smirk. “It really does. That only happened, what, one time?”

“Three times.”

“That second thing doesn't count. And besides, I still made sure you got paid, right? So okay, maybe I didn't let you in on every tiny detail as we went along, but you still got taken care of in the end. Come on, sit down, have a drink. You'll love this, I promise.”

“This is already off to a hell of a start,” Tommy grumbled.

“So first of all, some introductions are in order,” Bax continued. He knew that if he gave Harry a chance to walk out, some of the others might decide to follow and then he'd really be screwed. Better to steamroll them with his pitch at the outset, before they had a chance to think for themselves too much.

He gestured to Skull. “This is Skull, the president and co-founder of The Voodoo Devils MC, who will henceforth be known as 'The Aggrieved Party.'”

“Nice to meet you,” Skull said.

“Skull, this is David Choi. We've worked together on dozens of cons, and he's one of the sharpest operators in the business.” Bax pointed to Harry. “Harrison Hanlon III, or Hollywood Harry to his friends. He does makeup and special effects for movies.” He pointed to the short woman. “Millicent Katz, known in the biz as Chillie Millie. One of the most talented chemists in the country, maybe even the world...”

“I'm not a straw, Bax,” Millie said flatly. “Don't suck up.”

“...and this strapping lad is Mule,” Bax finished, jerking a thumb at the morbidly-obese young man.

“What's his job?” Tommy asked.

Mule cracked his knuckles slowly. “I'm the muscle.”

Skull looked around at the burly bikers surrounding them. “You brought muscle? No offense, Bax, but ain't that kind of like bringing sand to the beach?”

Bax shook his head. “We can't use your guys for that part, or Altamura might recognize them. Besides, don't worry—I've got something in mind for them, too. Everyone's got a part to play, trust me.”

“Speaking of trusting you,” said Harry, “I still haven't heard one good reason why I shouldn't tell you to kiss my black ass.”

“Because the last five flicks you worked on were low-budget horror crap that probably paid you peanuts,” Bax answered. “I'm offering you a chance to get a six-figure payout. You really want to stand there and tell me you can afford to just walk away?”

Harry's jaw clenched, the muscles in his cheeks twitching ominously. Slowly, he went to the bar and sat down on a stool. “Five minutes. Talk.”

“Okay,” Bax began, “so excluding the professional confidence men—excuse me, and ladies—in the room, who here can tell me what the Spanish Prisoner is?”

There was silence from Skull and the Devils.

“I probably should have expected that,” Bax said. “How about this: Who here has gotten one of those scam emails from someone claiming to be a Nigerian prince?”

Another silence.

“You're not exactly talking to a point-and-click crowd here, Bax,” Skull said uneasily.

“Fair enough. I'll make this simple. Basically, the Spanish Prisoner con targets people with money who want more of it. The scam's a classic Pigeon Drop, and it goes all the way back to the 1700s. The hustler tells the mark that he's in contact with someone wealthy and powerful, who's being held captive for a huge ransom. The hustler offers the mark the chance to pay that ransom, in exchange for untold riches upon the prisoner's release.”

“So where does Altamura's daughter come in?” Skull asked.

“I'll bet I can guess that one,” Millie chimed in dryly. “Traditionally, the Spanish Prisoner works best when it's accompanied by a sweetener—usually, the hustler has some gorgeous young girl who pretends to be the prisoner's concerned daughter, and she seduces the mark into paying.”

“Only this time, the script is flipped and you're the gorgeous young girl, right, Bax?” Tommy asked. “You've gotta be kidding me. Altamura's a wiseguy, he's spent his whole life expecting people to fuck him over and take what's his. He'll never go for it.”

“That's where you come in, Tommy,” Bax said evenly.

Over the next hour, Bax carefully outlined his plan.

By the time he'd finished, there wasn't a single person in the room—Harry included—who wasn't completely convinced that it would work.

Chapter 5

Bax

Frank Sinatra crooned his greatest hits on a docked iPod in the corner of the hotel room. Tommy carefully squeezed the black dye into Bax's hair layer by layer as Bax shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

The room was on the fourth floor of The Carondelet Hotel, one of New Orleans' most expensive guest houses. Skull and the others had balked at the price, but Bax had assured them that it was important to keep up appearances—he couldn't convince anyone he was the heir to a Mafia empire if he was holed up in some cheap shitbox.

“You need to fucking relax,” Tommy said. “If you keep fidgeting like that, you're gonna end up wearing this stuff as war paint.”

“If you want to help me relax, you can start by switching off this easy listening horseshit and putting on some actual music. Maybe Nine Inch Nails, or a little Zeppelin, at least...”

Tommy shook his head briskly. “Nope. From now on, you're on a strict diet of Sinatra, Dean Martin, Tony Bennett, and Louie Prima. You're gonna listen to them over and over, and you're gonna memorize the lyrics to all of their songs in case one of them comes on the radio and you need to sing along. Trust me, it happens more often than you might think.”

“Bullshit. The guy's daughter is, what, in her early twenties? You really think she's going to care if I'm into all this dusty old shit? She probably hates it.”

“Yeah, but the daughter isn't the one you're really trying to seduce, is she, smart guy? Don Altamura's the only one you need to worry about making a good impression on. Whether his daughter likes you or hates you isn't going to have any bearing on his decision to marry you off to her.”

“Still, it'll be easier if she likes me,” Bax observed quietly.

Tommy stopped putting dye in Bax's hair, eyeing him warily. “Hey. You're not actually gonna try to fuck her or anything like that, are you?”

Bax rolled his eyes. “Pffft. Of course not.”

“Bax. Look at me.”

Bax sighed, turning to look at Tommy.

“You do not fuck this girl. Understand? You take her out if Altamura wants you to, you play it like a total gentleman, maybe you even try to be a little charming. But if you get a real shot at taking her to bed, you think of the money that's at stake here and you keep your dick in your pants. You come back to this motel, you jerk off, dial a 900 number, hire a hooker, do whatever you gotta do to get it out of your system. Because if you somehow manage to blow this score with your usual Casanova crap, everyone involved—including me—is gonna want to see you strung up by your fucking balls.”

“Message received, okay? Now finish up my hair.” Bax studied the shiny surfaces of his fingernails. “I still don't see why I had to get a goddamn manicure. It's kind of girly, isn't it?”

“Not to guys like Altamura. To them, it's a status symbol. It's what separates them from the bookies, chumps, and leg-breakers. Hold still, I need to do your eyebrows so they match up.”

Bax chuckled. “You want to do my pubes too, while you're at it? You know, for consistency?”

“You can't even stop being a prick for five minutes, can you?” Tommy carefully brushed the dye into Bax's eyebrows. “And by the way, you'd better remember to shave about twice a day. You start to get any blonde stubble, and it's game over. Now let's go over Italian swear words.”

Bax groaned. “And English ones won't work, because...?”

“Because wiseguys don't use them, and if you can't understand what they're saying when they curse in Italian, they'll think you're an undercover Fed and chainsaw your head off. So: You want to call some guy an idiot?”

“Coglione.”

“And what's the literal meaning?”

Bax thought for a moment. He'd been studying for two days, and he was usually a fast learner, but he wasn't used to memorizing things in other languages. “Testicle.”

“Good, good. So if you want to say, 'Don't break my balls,' that would be...?”

“Um...'Non mi rompere i coglioni.'”

“Okay, not bad. If you want to call someone a queer?”

“Finocchio.”

“Half a queer?”

Bax smiled. “Mezzafinocchio.”

“Stick it up your ass?”

“No thanks, I don't swing that way,” Bax chortled.

“Bax, I swear to fucking God, if you go in there and don't take this seriously—”

“Vaffanculo, okay? Christ, loosen up.”

“Okay,” Tommy said. “Not bad. You should work on your accent a little, though. You're still making it sound more Spanish than Italian. Watch a few more gangster flicks tonight. Just the ones on the list I gave you, though—any other ones you watch won't teach you shit. And remember, the hand gestures need to go with it if you want to seem authentic.”

“But other than that?”

Tommy put the bottle of dye aside, admiring his handiwork. “Other than that, I'd say it's about time for me to make the call.”

Bax picked up Tommy's cell phone and handed it to him. “Go for it.”

Tommy stared at the phone for a long moment. “Fuck. This is it, isn't it? Later, when I'm down on my knees in the fucking swamp with some wiseguy's gun pressing against my ear, this is gonna be the exact moment I look back on and think, 'I didn't have to betray everything I swore an oath for. I could've just walked away instead.' And it'll be too fucking late.”

“Tommy, when you're lying on your own private beach somewhere with a Mai Tai in your hand and a big-titted girl's lips wrapped around your cock, this is going to be the moment you look back on and think, 'God bless Bax for making sure I never have to take orders from arrogant shitheads like Parrino ever again.' And then you're gonna finish your drink and blow your load all over the chick's face, and it's going to be beautiful and Hallmark's gonna write a card about it. Now stop clutching your fucking pearls and make the call.”

Tommy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and dialed the number.

Chapter 6

Stef

Stef walked down the steps, heading for the kitchen. Her stomach was grumbling, and the worst part was that she knew it still would be, no matter what she chose to eat. None of the food her mother approved of—seeds, hardboiled egg whites, salads with no dressing—was actually filling, and trying to sneak a mouthful or two of unapproved food would be futile. Her mother watched the contents of the fridge and the pantry like a hawk, and whenever there was less of anything than there should be, she made sure Stef was punished for it. The few times Stef had tried to smuggle in snacks, Gracie immediately found them and confiscated them. Sometimes she even ate them herself in front of Stef, just to torture her.

Stef hated always feeling hungry.

As she passed the door to her father's private study, she heard the phone ring twice. Her mother answered, exchanged a few quiet words with the caller, and called out, “Benny, it's for you!”

The door to the study opened slightly, and Benny's voice emanated from it. “Did they say who it is, or am I supposed to guess?”

Stef rolled her eyes. They'd installed a state-of-the-art intercom system a few years before, but her parents still insisted on yelling to each other from across the house like something out of a damn sitcom.

“Tommy Quarters from Dallas,” her mother hollered. “He says he's Old Man Parrino's consigliere.”

“Tommy who?” her father shouted. “Old Man what? Who are these people?”

“I don't know, but he says you know him, and he says he wants to talk to you. Are you going to pick up the phone or not?”

“Fine, fine, I'll take the call in here,” Benny snapped. He stepped away from the door, but left it ajar instead of closing it like he usually did when a call came in for him.

Stef stood in the downstairs hall for a moment, thinking about how the open door gave her a rare chance to listen in on the conversation. Benny frequently took calls from other gangsters in his study, and he usually put them on speakerphone so he could pace as he talked. Stef had never cared about his business or anything associated with it, so she generally wasn't interested in eavesdropping.

But she also knew that this call might be about her—another hopeful matchmaker from another rotten crime family, trying to arrange a marriage between her and yet another self-important punk. If she listened in, she might have a better idea of what she'd be dealing with on her next date.

She crept over to the door, keeping her body pressed against the wall to stay out of sight. She felt silly, and she knew that if her mother or father caught her spying, she'd be in big trouble. But she couldn't resist. She was tired of having no knowledge of—or control over—her own life.

Stef heard her father clear his throat and hit the button on his desk phone. “This is Benny Altamura. Who am I speaking with, please?”

A voice answered, sounding stilted and formal. “Don Altamura, it is truly an honor to speak with you. Thank you for taking my call. I hope I have not disturbed you. I'm not sure if you remember me—we met briefly at the thing in Vegas a couple of years ago. My name is Thomas Quattrocchi, and I have the privilege of acting as advisor to the Parrino family in Dallas.”

Good lord, Stef thought. This guy sure isn't big on brevity.

“And why are you calling me, Mr. Quattrocchi? Surely, if your boss has business to discuss with me, he can speak with me himself. Unless, of course, he feels that I'm unworthy of his time, in which case—”

“I can assure you, Don Altamura, my employer has the utmost respect for you. However, the matter I'm contacting you about...well, it doesn't actually involve Mr. Parrino. It's an unrelated matter, one in which I've been asked to act as a sort of go-between between you and another party.”

“And I can assure you, sir,” Benny countered testily, “that nothing robs me of the inclination to trust my fellow man more than vague nonsense and murky phrases like 'another party.' If you're trying to conduct some kind of business behind your boss' back, that doesn't sound like anything I'd want to be involved in.”

“My deepest apologies, Don Altamura,” Thomas said quickly. “I feel I've done a poor job of stating my intentions. If I seem as though I'm being furtive in this matter, I'm sorry. I promise you that nothing about this situation is untoward or inappropriate, or counter to my employer's interests in any way. It's simply that there are certain factors which demand a high degree of discretion. Actually, that's the reason I've been asked to contact you specifically. The, uh, other interested party has heard of your impeccable code of ethics, and feels that you alone can be trusted to protect his interests in this delicate matter.”

Stef smiled. Whoever this person was, he clearly knew the right way to approach Benny—by appealing to his vanity and his self-image as a “man of principle.” It seemed like this call wasn't about setting her up with anyone, but she figured she may as well hear the rest of it.

She heard her father sigh, then chuckle wearily. “All right, Mr. Quattrocchi. You got me to ante up, and you've gotten me to see your raise. Well done. But now I think it's time for you to show your cards, don't you? And please, resist the urge to start every sentence with 'Don Altamura.' Your respect is noted. There's no need to gild the lily, so to speak.”

“Unfortunately, as I've said, this is a matter of tremendous secrecy. And since men in our position often find our lines of communication...compromised, shall we say, by certain government agencies, I believe it would be best for us to go over the details in person. Are you available for a meeting tomorrow evening? I can make myself available at your convenience, naturally, as can the interested party.”

“Very well,” Benny agreed. “Meet me at The Hurricane Club at seven o'clock. And Mr. Quattrocchi?”

“Yes, sir?”

“If this turns out to be some sort of setup, I can guarantee you that when I'm done punishing you, I'll move on to everyone you've ever cared about. Do we understand each other?”

“Certainly,” Thomas said. Despite the threat, Stef thought he actually sounded relieved. “And thank you for this opportunity, Don...sir. You won't regret it.”

Stef heard the call end and scuttled away from the door. She was relieved that this wasn't another attempt to set her up, even though she knew that would certainly be happening again soon anyway.

She thought about proceeding to the kitchen, then decided to return to her room instead. None of the food options that were available to her sounded appetizing anyway. If she could force herself to take a nap, maybe that would make her hunger go away, if only for a little while.

Chapter 7

Bax

Bax walked down Bourbon Street at sunset, with Tommy and Mule next to him and herds of tourists and hucksters passing them on both sides.

The hot evening air was thick and hazy, filled with the smells of booze, sweat, spicy foods, and manure from the horses that pulled the carriages once the avenues were closed to cars for the night. Raucous jazz and drunken karaoke blared from every bar, and strippers danced lazily in the doorways of the clubs, half-heartedly beckoning to vacationers. Out-of-work actors with goatees and ponytails led groups on ghost tours, telling the same hokey stories of pirates, vampires, and voodoo over and over.

“Jesus, this is like some redneck version of Atlantic City,” Tommy said.

Bax smiled. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed this place until now. Sometimes while he was on the road, every town started to seem the same as the last one. But nowhere else on earth was like New Orleans. It was crowded and sticky and noisy and it stank, but there was a certain poetry beneath it all that was deeply alluring.

More than anything, Bax missed the stories. No matter where a person went in the Big Easy or who they met, they were guaranteed to hear stories. Half of these stories were exaggerated beyond all proportion—the other half were bald-faced lies. But they were always spellbinding, even when the teller had his hands deep in the listeners' pockets.

Bax liked that.

Despite his stroll down Memory Lane, though, Bax didn't feel much like himself in that moment. He'd dressed the part for plenty of scores before, but never like this—diamond cufflinks, a silk handkerchief folded into three crisp points, narrow Italian shoes so polished he could see his reflection in them, and an Ermenegildo Zegna suit that cost almost five thousand dollars. His hair was slicked back with pomade that was so thick and greasy it felt like pure lard. The ensemble was a lot to get used to for someone who spent at least half of his time cruising around on a motorcycle with road dust caked on his jeans.

Still, Bax had to admit that if he was feeling a little self-conscious and uncomfortable, he could only imagine how Mule felt. They'd almost had to find a tent-maker to tailor a suit that would fit Mule's huge, awkward, billowing frame. Tommy had tried to teach Mule the same lessons about proper vocabulary and inflection, but he gave up after fifteen minutes and told Mule it would probably be better if he just didn't say anything at all. Mule couldn't even mimic the cocksure stride of a true Mafioso—all he could do was lumber, slope-shouldered, with his eyes fixed on the ground.

By contrast, Bax swaggered like the owned the whole city, swinging his shoulders and popping his hips arrogantly with every step.

“I really nailed the walk, didn't I?” Bax asked Tommy. “I found some footage of John Gotti online and copied him.”

Tommy smirked. “Gotti only walked like that because he accidentally crushed his own foot trying to steal a cement mixer when he was fourteen. Don't overplay your part. Remember, mid-level wiseguys walk around like they've got a couple boulders swinging between their legs. The higher-ups don't have to.”

Bax laughed and discarded the exaggerated stride, walking normally instead.

A skinny hustler with a pockmarked face and a stingy brim fedora sidled up to the trio. “Hey, big-timers, big spenders! You wanna have some fun tonight?” He winked, gesturing to a nearby strip club. “We got live sex shows, we got private booths, we got air conditioning, we got the prettiest cooch and the strongest hooch this side've the Mississippi. We got lap dances for thirty bucks...buy two, get a third one half-price. Y'all ain't gonna find lower prices anywhere on Bourbon Street. Whaddaya say, whaddaya say?”

“Thanks, but we've got a prior engagement this evening,” Bax said. “Another time, maybe.”

“Aw, ain't no time like the present, boys! From the look of them fancy suits, I figure you gents could buy a dance with every gal in the place twice over an' still have enough for a six-course meal down at Tujague's.” The hustler nudged Mule's side playfully. “Bet we could even rustle up a mountain-climbin' gal to see to the big fella here, how 'bout it?”

Mule's massive arm shot out with surprising speed, seizing the hustler's wrist and bending it around behind him. The hustler let out a yowl like a scalded cat.

“Speaking of mountain-climbing, my friend, how about you take a hike?” Bax suggested.

“Okay, okay!” Mule released the hustler, who rubbed his wrist with a wounded look on his face. “No disrespect intended, gents. Y'all enjoy your evening, now.” He retreated to the doorway of the closest strip club.

“You've got some mighty quick hands, there,” Tommy observed.

Mule smiled.

Shortly before Bourbon intersected with Canal Street, Bax and the others found themselves standing in front of The Hurricane Club. It looked like most of the other party joints in the French Quarter—tricked out with fake palm fronds, gaudy paint, and cheap strings of hanging skull-shaped lights. A blues quartet played a down-and-dirty boogie-woogie, and tourists spilled out from the doors and windows holding tall neon plastic cups filled with strong mixed drinks.

“Seems kind of tacky for a guy like Altamura, doesn't it?” Bax commented.

“That's probably just window dressing,” Tommy answered. “Come on, follow me.”

They shouldered their way through the crowd of perspiring drunks. One of the dancing patrons almost spilled a beer on Bax's suit, and he flinched nervously. He'd used his own money to buy this outfit, and he couldn't afford to shell out for another one.

The bartender was a ruddy-faced man with a wide-brimmed straw hat and a t-shirt that said “Voodoo Unto Others Before They Voodoo Unto You.”

That should have been the MC's slogan, Bax thought with a grin.

Tommy leaned over the bar, raising his voice to make himself heard. “My name's Tommy Quattrocchi, and I'm here to see Benny Altamura. These men are with me.”

The bartender nodded serenely and pointed to a door between the two bathrooms. “Knock six times.”

Tommy led Bax and Mule to the door and rapped on it six times. After a moment, it opened to reveal a tall, cadaverous-looking man in his forties with a shaved head and piercing black eyes. There was a long, ragged scar across his throat.

“Mr. Quattrocchi, my name is Silvio, and I am Don Altamura's majordomo,” he said in a raspy voice. He beckoned them inside, closing and locking the door behind them. “At the risk of appearing impolite or unwelcoming, I must ask whether any of you gentlemen are carrying weapons of any kind.”

“No, we came here in good faith,” Tommy assured him.

Silvio nodded. “Very good. Even so, it is my unfortunate duty to pat you down, just to make sure. I trust you will not take offense at this precaution?”

“We understand,” Tommy said. “By all means, do whatever you need to do.”

“Excellent. If I brush against your more delicate areas during my search, I do hope you will forgive me. Many would-be assassins have been known to hide firearms in such places, so I'm afraid we are forced to be quite diligent, even at the expense of our guests' comfort.”

“Hey, you pat down those areas thoroughly enough, there may even be a tip in it for you,” Bax chuckled.

Silvio offered a thin, humorless smile. The trio raised their arms and spread their legs, allowing Silvio's bony fingers to examine every inch of their bodies. Sure enough, when he reached Bax's crotch, he didn't shy away from it the way most men would during a pat-down.

“You want I should turn my head and cough while you're down there?” Bax asked wryly.

“I do not believe that will be necessary. Thank you for your cooperation. Don Altamura is waiting for you downstairs. Please follow me.”

As they followed Silvio, Tommy said, “Hey, I couldn't help but notice the bulge at your shoulder. Looks like you're packing a mighty big piece, there. What is it? .357 Magnum?”

Silvio turned to him and pulled his jacket open for a few seconds, revealing a massive Desert Eagle handgun in his shoulder holster.

Tommy let out a low whistle. “Wow. Very nice. I gotta get one of those.”

Silvio led them down a black staircase to a smoky room with a low ceiling. A song by Mel Torme played softly from several strategically-placed speakers, and men in expensive suits sat around tables with green felt surfaces, playing poker, blackjack, roulette, and dice. None of their voices raised above a hushed tone.

“Nice setup you've got here,” said Tommy.

“Thank you. Don Altamura is quite proud of it.” Silvio gestured to a table in a corner where Altamura sat, watching them approach. “Would any of you care for something to drink?”

“I'll have a sambuca, neat,” Tommy said.

“A dry martini for me, please,” said Bax, “and Cutty Sark on the rocks for my friend here.”

Mule nodded.

“Of course,” Silvio said, vanishing into a back room.

Bax felt his stomach lurch in unhappy anticipation. He hated martinis, dry or otherwise. But according to Tommy, it was a preferred drink among northern Mafia bosses and their scions, so when in Rome...

As they reached the table, Altamura stood, smiling indulgently and offering his hand. “Ah, the enigmatic Mr. Quattrocchi. It's a pleasure to formally meet you.”

Tommy lifted the manicured hand to his lips, kissing the ruby ring on Altamura's little finger. “Don Altamura. An honor, truly.” He waved a hand at Bax and Mule. “Please, allow me to introduce you to Aurelio Lupo from Toronto, and his associate Max.”

Bax gave Altamura a firm but respectful handshake. Tommy had taught him that capos and consiglieres kissed rings—bosses and sons of bosses shook hands, to demonstrate their confidence and status as equals. He saw that the gesture was not lost on Altamura as the older man re-evaluated him carefully.

“I'm afraid Max is unable to verbally convey how honored he is to meet you, Don Altamura,” said Bax. “Sadly, he lost his tongue last year due to a misunderstanding with a rival family. However, he's more than capable of expressing himself in other ways.”

Mule stepped forward, taking Altamura's hand and kissing his ring.

“Have a seat,” Altamura offered. As they sat down, Silvio appeared, placed their drinks on the table in front of them, and vanished again without a word. Bax watched from the corner of his eye as Mule sipped the scotch slowly and carefully, as though he were trying to drink without the benefit of a tongue.

So far, so good, Bax thought.

“So, Aurelio...” Altamura begin.

Bax held up a hand politely. “Please, call me Leo.”

“All right, then. Leo. You're from Toronto? I had no idea there were made guys up in Canada.”

“Do you do much traveling, sir?” Bax asked.

“I'm afraid not,” Altamura conceded.

“Well, I've been all over the world. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that everywhere you go, there are guys like us in one form or another.”

Altamura grinned, nodding. “I suppose there are, at that. Now, perhaps you'd like to let me know why you've come such a long way to meet with me?”

“Families like ours up in Canada aren't very familiar with the ones down here,” Bax began. “I was lucky enough to make Tommy's acquaintance a few years ago, and given the current situation, I asked him to put me in touch with the most discreet, honorable, trustworthy man in your position. He told me that you are a man of impeccable moral fiber...a man of principle, who adhered to a strict code of conduct and kept his word above all else. He immediately recommended you.”

“Yes, yes, I'm flattered, but what is the 'current situation?'” Altamura demanded. “I still haven't heard any specifics, and my patience is wearing thin.”

“I understand, and I apologize for all of this secrecy. However, before I can continue, I must ask you to give your word that even if you decide not to get involved, you will keep everything you hear tonight in the strictest confidence.”

“What, are you guys trying to unload a batch of stolen nuclear warheads or something?” Altamura laughed. “All right, fine, whatever it is, you have my word that I won't tell anyone about it. And everyone in here is too busy trying to beat the house to hear what we're talking about. Okay?”

“Thank you. I realize this might seem ridiculous to you, but as your man Silvio said, certain precautions are prudent and necessary, even if they're unpleasant. When you hear the matter at hand, I'm sure you'll agree.”

“We'll see about that,” Altamura smirked, taking a sip of his drink.

“My father is Francesco Lupo, the boss of our family,” said Bax. “Last year, he was given the opportunity to acquire a string of previously-unclaimed poppy fields in Myanmar. We're talking billions of dollars' worth of raw opium, okay? So he took those fields over, and set up a couple of processing facilities to turn it into heroin once it reaches Ontario. This stuff is so pure it can be stepped on eight, ten times, and still be considered high-grade. Since the borders between the US and Canada are so porous, the idea is to ship the stuff down here and make a fortune. With that kind of product to move, we stand to become the biggest traffickers of H in North America.”

Altamura shrugged. “Congratulations. What's that got to do with me?”

“As you may already know, Myanmar is a jungle hellhole where civil wars rage constantly,” Bax continued. “During his last visit to inspect our fields over there, a group of rebels took my father as their prisoner. Now, for the moment, these assholes don't know who they've got. They just think my father's a wealthy Canadian businessman. They're demanding a ransom of five million dollars. But if they find out who he really is...”

“Ah. Now I see where all of this secrecy comes in,” said Altamura knowingly.

“Exactly. We're a small family, and this fiasco happened before we were able to start bringing this stuff in and distributing it. We need someone to put up half the money for his release, and once he's safe, we'll need some outside muscle to help us make sure this kind of thing never happens again. But if we went to the wrong people about this, who knows? They could use our current instability to seize the fields for themselves, or even make a deal with the rebels and tip them off about who their hostage is.”

“Why bring in outside muscle?” Altamura asked. “Why not use your own guys, or hire from other Canadian families?”

“Well, let's just say there's a reason you haven't heard of any legendary outfits from the Great White North,” Bax said. “When it comes to bribing Mounties, fixing hockey games, or ripping off shipments of maple syrup, we've got some good guys working for us. But anything heavier than that, and they're about as worthless as piss holes in the snow. Tommy says you maintain an iron grip on New Orleans. I figure that can't be easy in a town like this, so you must have some serious people working for you.”

Altamura considered this for a moment. “Okay. So you need 2.5 million dollars from me, plus a guarantee that I'll lend you some of my people later on an as-needed basis. What are you offering in return?”

Bax spread his hands expansively, putting on his most solemn and concerned face. “Sir, when my father passes on someday—God forbid—I stand to inherit all of his businesses. But needless to say, this isn't how I want to do it. I love my father very much, and his safety is of the utmost importance to me. It's my greatest wish to see him returned home unharmed as soon as possible. If you're willing to help me do this, then you can name your price. Whatever you think is fair and reasonable. Once our interests in Myanmar have been secured and the opium shipments start coming in, I'll make sure we honor our end of the agreement, whatever it is. You have my word on that.”

Altamura's expression softened. “I admire your devotion to your father. I wish my daughter honored me the way you honor him.”

Bax was starting to wish he had a nickel for every time someone used the word “honor” that evening.

“In exchange for my assistance,” Altamura continued, “I want your assurance that once you start to import and distribute the product, I will be your only point of contact for selling it in the southern United States. Naturally, I'll provide a specific list of territories.”

Inwardly, Bax danced a jig. Altamura had taken the bait. With all that uncut H dangled in front of him, how could he pass up the chance to become the undisputed sultan of heroin across fifteen states or more? As long as he stuck to the south and steered clear of the bigger syndicates in LA, Chicago, and New York, he'd be unstoppable.

“Absolutely,” Bax agreed.

“Naturally, before I hand over the money, I'll need a sample of the product so my people can test it and ensure that it's as pure as you say.”

“I can definitely arrange that,” said Bax. “As I'm sure you can imagine, I couldn't risk traveling with something like that, but I can have it brought down here within the week so you can inspect it.”

“Excellent. Now that we've settled that, there's another matter I'd like to discuss with you.”

Bax tried to look curious, even though he knew what was coming next. Whether the targets were high-powered mobsters or tourists in Akron, a rube was still a rube, and a mark was still a mark.

“I've noticed that you don't wear a wedding ring,” Altamura pointed out. “Am I correct in assuming that you're currently unattached?”

Bax shrugged, smiling. “You know how it is, Don Altamura. I see girls here and there, but nothing serious. I prefer to focus on my family's business interests.”

“That's commendable,” said Altamura. “And please, call me Benny. As I mentioned before, I have a daughter. Stefania. She's my only child. She's beautiful, intelligent...quite a prize, for the right man. I've been trying to find a suitable husband for her. Someone young and hungry, who has a good head on his shoulders and knows how to show respect. Someone who could take over my operations when I pass on someday.”

“Not for a hundred years, God willing,” Tommy said, raising his glass in a toast. Bax and Mule raised theirs as well.

“Thank you, that's very kind,” Altamura said. “I realize this request is somewhat unorthodox, but while you're in town, would you consent to a date with her? I can't promise that she'll fall in love with you right away—she can be a bit headstrong, like her mother—but if it goes well and you eventually marry, the empire that our two organizations forge could reign in North America for generations.”

Bax made a show of thinking this over carefully. “With all due respect, Benny, I appreciate your offer, and I'm certainly flattered. But I don't know if it's a good idea, given the context of my visit. I get nervous mixing business with pleasure, and if things don't work out between me and Stefania for some reason, I wouldn't want to jeopardize our professional arrangement. Besides, I've been so worried about my father's well-being, I'm concerned that I wouldn't be good company.”

And that might be enough for some people to back off, Bax thought. But not you, right, Benny? Because having a billion-dollar heroin connection for a son-in-law makes all the other Mafia creeps who've come to court your daughter look like pikers by comparison.

Altamura leaned in earnestly. “I can definitely understand your concern for your father, and it's admirable. But speaking from my experience with you tonight, I can assure you that you are wonderful company regardless. And as for endangering our agreement, I promise it won't come to that. If you two happen to hit it off, that would be lovely. If not...what's that saying your hockey players up there are so fond of? 'No harm, no foul?'”

Bax gave Altamura his most charming laugh. “Well, when you put it that way, Benny, I won't insult you by saying no.”

“Excellent,” Altamura said with a grin. “Thank you. I'll set it up and call you with the details tomorrow. Who knows? You could be a match made in heaven.”

There's only one match I care about, old man, Bax thought as he shook Benny's hand again. And that's between me and your money.

Chapter 8

Stef

“Stef, if you don't stop squirming, this brush is going to end up in your eye,” her mother fussed.

Stefania closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm as her mother applied the makeup brush to her eyelashes. It wasn't easy—anger rolled and writhed in Stef's stomach like a poisonous snake.

It had been five days since her father had gotten the mysterious call from Mr. Quattrocchi and Stef had breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't about her. Except that after Quattrocchi had introduced Benny to this “Leo Lupo,” it seemed like the young Canadian hoodlum was all her father could talk about. During every meal, as Stef picked at her food listlessly, he would return to the subject again and again.

“As stubborn as you've been about choosing a husband, I'm actually glad you've waited so long,” Benny told her, transferring another heavy slab of lasagna to his plate and digging in. “I can tell that Leo is a very special young man. He's different from the others. You'll see it too, when you meet him. He's polite, he's respectful to his elders...you can tell from the way he carries himself that he was raised well. He has real class and sophistication. There's nothing petty about him, and he's got a good head on his shoulders. He's got a bright future ahead of him.”

“It sounds like you should marry him, then,” Stef said, pushing some beets around her plate. The juice they oozed was blood-red, and she was reminded of the gory pictures of Arthur that had been tossed onto the table in front of her the week before. Her stomach clenched, and for a moment, she thought she might throw up.

Her father paused, his fork halfway to his mouth as his eyes hardened. “I know you like to act headstrong, Stef, but you'd better not ruin this date with your pouting. A marriage between you and Leo will secure our organization for years to come. So stop being selfish, and think of your duty to your family for once.”

“And what about my happiness?” Stef asked hotly. “Doesn't that mean anything to you?”

“Don't frown so much, dear,” her mother murmured, cutting herself another slice of lasagna. “It'll give you wrinkles.”

“How can you say I don't care about your happiness?” Benny demanded. “Haven't I given you the best of everything since you were born? The finest clothes, the most expensive schools? I've spent millions of dollars on you, I've treated you like a princess, and when have you ever been happy? When have you ever shown me the gratitude and respect that I deserve?”

“Oh, sure, you've treated me like a princess all right. You've surrounded me with high walls and guards, and kept me locked away in a tower.”

Her father waved her away dismissively. “You're so dramatic. I'll bet Leo never talks to his parents like this.”

“Why can't I make any decisions for myself? Why can't you just let me live my own life?”

“Because you'd only screw it up,” Benny answered. “You have such good looks, and so much potential. I'm your father, I love you, and as I said before, I want what's best for you even if you throw it back in my face. You could have a perfect life. You could live like royalty, with a husband who provides you with everything you could possibly need.”

“Including beautiful children,” Gracie chimed in. “Good, strong heirs. And a respectable name.”

“But you're weak, and you're spoiled. If I let you do whatever you want, then what?” her father continued. “You'd dress like trash, you'd eat like trash, you'd look like trash and behave like trash. You'd dishonor me by rolling around in the muck with some nobody like Arthur. You'd get pregnant before marriage like some kind of mignotta and flush the family name down the toilet. I won't let that happen, no matter how much you treat me like I'm some kind of monster. I care about you too much.”

Stef had finished her dinner in stony silence after that. Now she was doing her best to sit still as her mother applied her makeup before her date with Leo.

“Remember to sit up straight and keep your legs together,” her mother instructed as she applied blush to Stef's cheeks. “Don't order anything except a light salad, and don't eat more than half of it. You don't want him to think you're a pig who's going to start gaining weight the moment she's married.”

“I'm sure if I eat more than half the salad, our bodyguard will report back to you immediately,” Stef sighed. “Who's going to be my chaperone this time? Silvio, or one of the other primates?”

“You shouldn't insult your Uncle Silvio like that,” Gracie said with a tsk and a grimace. “The mouth on you. I hope you won't make those kinds of snide remarks when you're with Leo. Maybe some of his good manners will rub off on you. And to answer your question, you'll be accompanied by both Silvio and Leo's right-hand man. Max, I think his name is.”

“Wonderful,” Stef groaned. “Two thugs for the price of one.”

Suddenly, Gracie grabbed a handful of Stef's hair, jerking her head back. Stef cried out in pain.

“Thugs and primates,” her mother hissed. “Is that what you think of our family? Of your father and his friends? Well, for your information, young lady, those men have loved you and looked after you for your entire life. You may look down your nose at them, but they are loyal, they work hard to put food on the table for us, and they deserve your respect. So while you're on this date, you'd better keep your smart mouth to yourself and act like you have some courtesy for the people who protect and serve us so faithfully. Because if your father and I find out that you behaved like a stuck-up brat and ruined your chances with Leo, you're going to find out just how miserable life can be.”

“Okay, okay!” Stef yelled. “Let go! You're hurting me!”

Gracie released Stef's hair, then frowned at it disapprovingly. “Now look what you've made me do. We'll have to brush your hair all over again.” She picked up the brush and ran it through Stef's hair roughly, pulling it hard with each stroke.

Stef tried not to show how agonizing it was, but tears welled up in her eyes. The rest of her life stretched out before her like an endless corridor to hell. Either she could relent and choose one of her suitors to be her husband, or her parents would take away the few comforts she had and force her to marry one of these pathetic gangsters anyway before she became too old to be considered a valuable commodity.

Because that was all she was. Something to be displayed proudly and sold off to the highest bidder. She couldn't help but think of herself as little more than a whore, and her own father was her pimp. What a sick joke.

And if she played the role of the dutiful daughter and went along with it, then what? A marriage that was little more than a formality, with a man who'd probably have his way with her anytime he felt like it, however he liked it, whether she wanted it or not.

A man who might beat her whenever he had a bad day, while everyone who claimed to care about her looked the other way and said, “As long as she's wearing his ring, it's none of our business.”

A man who'd probably start seeing other women before the ink on their marriage license was even dry, bringing home feeble excuses and diseases.

A man who'd likely end up dead, missing, or in prison, like so many of her “uncles” and “cousins” had.

For a savage moment, she thought about how satisfying it might be to actually take steps to make that happen—to sell her husband out to rival mobsters, or to the FBI. He'd be gone, she'd be free, everything he had would be hers, and there would be nothing Benny could do about it.

But if anyone ever found out, could she really expect her father to protect her? Or would he simply shake his head sadly and wash his hands of her?

Normal girls my age don't have to think about any of this, she thought bitterly. Normal girls my age get to go to college and date around and fall in love and eat whatever they want. They aren't locked away and treated like living dolls by their parents. They don't have their lives controlled by criminals, or worry about the Feds breaking down their doors at two in the morning.

“There,” her mother said, finishing Stef's makeup. “Doesn't that look better?”

Stef didn't answer.

Chapter 9

Stef

Stef stood on Decatur Street as the sun began to set. A block away, the open-air dining area of the Cafe Du Monde was filled with chattering tourists. They munched on beignets and sipped coffee, laughing and snapping photos of each other with powdered sugar caked on their lips.

Had she ever even been allowed to eat a beignet? Stef couldn't even remember. She tried to imagine the fried dough and sticky sugar in her mouth, but she had no point of reference. It seemed like she'd been forced to subsist on rabbit food her entire life.

Next to her, Silvio stood like a statue, his eyes scanning for trouble as his hand hovered near his shoulder. Stef had known Silvio her entire life, but he still made her extremely nervous. Even though he'd always been polite to her, his black eyes reminded her of camera lenses. There was no joy in them, no pity, no detectable emotion of any kind. They simply took in everything they could, darkly reflecting the world around them.

If I ever did betray the family and try to get away, he's the one they'd send after me, she thought with a shudder. I'd wake up one night and he'd be standing next to my bed, ready to press a pillow over my face and fire a bullet through it to silence me forever.

The idea was scary, but she found a forlorn comfort in it, too. At least then it would be over. No more tasteless meals. No more being told what to do. Nothing but endless peace where her mother and father could never hurt her again.

“So, two guards this time, huh?” Stef said, trying to distract herself from these morbid thoughts. “That seems like overkill.”

“It wasn't my decision,” Silvio said in his creaky, whispery voice. “Your father always insists that one of his own people accompany you, since he would never trust your safety to anyone else. This arrangement has always been considered acceptable by the young men who've previously escorted you. However, your date this evening said it was extremely important to him that his own bodyguard join us as well.”

“Wouldn't Dad generally take that as an insult?”

Silvio nodded gravely. “Yes. He generally would. But in this instance, he seems inclined to make special allowances for this young man.”

“It doesn't sound like you like this Leo guy very much,” Stef observed.

Silvio furrowed his brow. “I haven't decided yet. He seems...flashy, somehow. Flamboyant. But I serve at the pleasure of your father, and I do as I am told.”

Suddenly, Silvio tensed up visibly, and Stef followed his gaze. Two men were approaching them. It was hard not to notice the larger one first, since he looked like some kind of huge, misshapen boulder. His small eyes peered out from his doughy face, fixed on the ground in front of him. With his belly bulging under his white dress shirt, his expensive black suit, and the way he waddled slowly and carefully, he resembled a monstrous, bloated penguin. The image made Stef want to giggle, but she held it in.

Then her eyes went to the man next to him, and her breath caught in her throat.

He was the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen.

His black hair was slicked back, revealing a sharp widow's peak. His eyes twinkled with mischief. While most men in her father's line of work walked like they had a sledgehammer swinging between their knees, this man had a smooth, easy stride, as though he didn't have a care in the world. His shoulders were broad, and his torso tapered down to his waist in a perfect V-shape. He held a bouquet of red roses in his right hand.

Had Silvio described this guy as “flashy?” No, that was too coarse, not specific enough. He walked around like he owned the whole damn town, and he was doing everyone a big favor by letting them stay.

He saw her and smiled, waving.

She caught herself waving back, and felt embarrassed. Okay, so he was good-looking and knew how to carry himself. So what? It didn't mean he was any different from the rest of them. He was probably just another vain, empty-headed, self-important prick who thought he was a big deal because he inherited his father's name instead of working his way up from a small-time bruiser to a capo. He'd flash his suave smile and say all the right things to try to charm her, but all he'd really care about is marrying his way into her father's money.

Still, it was hard not to look at him and imagine his hands on her body, or what that lithe torso might feel like pressed against hers.

Stef tried to keep her expression neutral as the two men reached them.

“You must be Stefania,” the thinner one said warmly.

“If I must,” she replied tightly.

He laughed. “Hey, that's good! My name is Aurelio Lupo. Call me Leo. My friend here is Max. Here, these are for you.” He handed her the bouquet.

“Red roses,” she said wearily. “How original. I guess now I'll have to carry them with me during our whole date, huh?”

Leo appeared to give this some thought, then shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, I guess you're right. That was a dumb idea on my part, and red roses are pretty hokey.” He took the bouquet back and casually dropped it into a nearby trash can. “When it's time to bring you back to your place, we can stop by a flower shop and find something that suits you better. That way, you can toss them in a vase as soon as you get home instead of lugging them around all evening like you're someone's prom date. Sound good?”

Stef raised her eyebrows. Who was this guy? He seemed completely unflappable.

“Sure, whatever,” Stef said. “Let's just go to dinner and get this over with.”

As they started to walk down the street, Max sidled up to Silvio. Their feet got tangled together, and before Stef knew what was happening, Silvio started to fall forward. Max moved in quickly, catching Silvio before he could hit the ground and lifting him back up again.

“Whoa! Are you guys okay?” Leo asked.

Max tried to brush off Silvio's lapels, but Silvio shoved him away, snarling. “You just tripped me. On purpose.”

“Hey, come on, I'm sure that's not true,” Leo assured him, turning to Max. “You didn't trip him, did you?”

Max shook his head.

“There, see? It was probably just a crack in the sidewalk or something,” said Leo.

Silvio's glassy black eyes were locked onto Max. “First you trip me, and then you call me a liar, you disgusting whale? What's the matter with you?”

Max bristled, his pudgy fingers curling into fists.

“There's no need for that kind of talk,” Leo said. “Let's just stay calm, all right? No one's calling anyone a liar. Max doesn't seem to think he tripped you, and if he did, it must have been an accident. Whichever it is, it's fine, there's no harm done, and it's no reason to ruin our night. People trip all the time. Let's just shake it off and head to the restaurant like adults.”

Silvio clenched his teeth, nodding slowly. “Fine. Just make sure it doesn't happen again.”

Leo laughed. “Sure, tough guy. I'll wave my magic wand and make sure you don't trip on any more loose bricks between here and dinner. You should loosen up, you know that?”

Stef tried to hide her surprise, but she was astonished. She had never seen anyone so openly unafraid of Silvio before.

Forty minutes later, Stef was sitting across a table from Leo at Laveau's Bistro on Ursulines Avenue. She morosely rearranged the salad on her plate, not bothering to eat any of it. Leo eagerly devoured a platter of crawfish etouffee over rice. Max and Silvio sat at a nearby table, surveying the room for potential threats.

“Aren't you going to eat anything?” asked Leo, looking at her plate. “This is a dinner date, after all.”

“No,” she replied woodenly. “I don't want you to think I'm a pig who's going to gain weight after we get married.”

Leo looked confused. “I'm not sure if you're trying to insult me or yourself or what, but seriously, you should eat whatever you want. You're already skinny. No one's going to judge you for having a decent meal.”

Stef stole a glance at Silvio, knowing he'd report back to her mother at the end of the night. “No, thanks. I'm fine.”

“Suit yourself. So, what do you like to do for fun?” The spicy, enticing aroma of Leo's meal made Stef's stomach grumble painfully. If he heard, he pretended not to notice.

“What difference does it make?” she sighed.

“Well, kind of a big difference, actually. See, I happen to think it's important to communicate and determine mutual areas of interest during a first date, just to figure out whether there should be a second one. If I wanted to sit across from someone who doesn't talk and doesn't eat, I'd go out with a mannequin.”

“So why don't you, then?” Stef snapped.

Leo looked genuinely puzzled and hurt. “I'm afraid I'm a little perplexed, here. Did I do something to piss you off? Because if I did, I apologize. I mean, this date wasn't even my idea. Your father thought we might hit it off, so—”

“He doesn't care if we hit it off or not,” she answered. “Let me venture a guess, Leo: You've got something my father wants, right? Some new way for him to make more money.”

“I, uh, guess I do, actually,” Leo said uncomfortably. “I'm not really supposed to talk about it...”

“That's fine, because I don't want to hear about it. Drugs, guns, political connections...I don't care about any of it, because it all amounts to the same thing. The bottom line is, this is a transaction for him, nothing more. He doesn't care if I like you or hate you. He'll still sell me to you.”

“Jeez, that's pretty rough,” Leo said gently. “I'm sorry. That's awful, truly. My father's in the family business too, but he never treated me like that.”

“Yeah, well, it must be nice to be born a boy instead of a girl.”

Leo thought for a moment, then put down his fork and reached into his pocket, flipping a couple of bills onto the table. He stood up. “Come on, let's go.”

“Where?”

“I'm going to take you home,” Leo said. “I had no idea you were doing this against your will. If you don't want to be on a date with me, you shouldn't have to be.” He gestured to Max, who stood up too. Silvio followed suit.

“But...what are you going to tell my father?” The idea of Benny blaming her for cutting their date short made her feel uneasy.

Leo shrugged. “I can tell him whatever you want. I'll blame myself, tell him I was too distracted about my dad to have fun with you tonight. I warned him that might happen anyway. Now I can see why he didn't listen, what with him trying to marry you off and everything. Christ, I feel terrible about this whole thing.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Why would you be distracted by your dad?”

Leo waved her off. “Doesn't matter. Don't worry about it. Let's just call it a night.”

Stef followed Leo outside, with Max and Silvio right behind them. She didn't know how to react to all of this. The other men Benny had set her up with seemed to know that she was being dangled in front of them as a prize, but they hadn't cared. By contrast, Leo seemed genuinely unnerved by it.

Could he be different from the others after all?

As they started down the street, they heard an engine roaring toward them. A large black van pulled up with “Voodoo Devils – War Chariot” painted on the side. The side door slid open and eight bikers got out. Stef had never seen any members of the Voodoo Devils MC before, but she'd heard her father mention them in passing when discussing business, and the patches on their leather vests identified them clearly. Their leader wore tags which said “Skull” and “President.”

And they were all carrying sawed-off shotguns.

“Get down, Stef!” Leo yelled, pushing her to the ground behind a parked car. He drew a handgun from his shoulder holster, and Max and Silvio did the same, leveling their weapons at the bikers. The other people on the street were already screaming and fleeing in terror. Inside the restaurant, the diners who were seated near the windows ducked under their tables or ran toward the kitchen in the back.

“This is for ripping us off, you goddamn dago cocksuckers!” Skull hollered. “We're taking the big man's daughter as payback!”

A moment later, both sides were blasting at each other. Their gunshots split the air like thunderclaps, and Stef pressed her palms against her ears, trying to catch a glimpse of the shootout through the car's windows.

She'd never seen anything like it before outside of a movie. The air was full of gun smoke, and muzzle flashes flickered like lightning. The Devils were firing wildly—it looked like they were trying to blanket the entire area with buckshot, but they didn't seem to be hitting much.

Max and Silvio fired from partial cover behind the parked car. Stef saw one of Max's shots hit a biker high in the shoulder, while one of Silvio's bullets connected with another biker's leg, sending him to the ground. Blood spattered and spurted on the pavement under the Devils.

But Leo wasn't taking any cover. He stood his ground firmly as though he were invulnerable to gunfire, aiming carefully with each shot. He put two bullets squarely into a fat biker's chest, then two more in another biker's stomach. Both of them fell to the ground immediately—Stef wasn't sure, but they looked dead.

Skull looked at the fallen bikers, howling with rage. “You fucking bastard! You killed Bumper and Panda!”

“And now I'm going to kill you, meathead,” Leo responded calmly.

He squeezed the trigger, and a red hole appeared in the center of Skull's forehead. The biker dropped to the pavement.

“Fuck, they wasted Skull!” one of the other Devils yelled. “Let's get the hell out of here!”

The bikers who were still able to stand collected their fallen comrades, including the dead bodies, and dragged them back into the van. The side door slid shut behind them and the van drove away, its tires screeching loudly.

“Are you all right?” Leo asked, crouching down to examine Stef. “Did you get hit?”

“No, I'm fine,” Stef said. But her entire body was trembling, and her mind was clanging with incoherent terror. “Those men...they were going to...”

“It's okay, they won't be coming after you anymore,” Leo assured her. He turned to Silvio. “Max and I will get her out of here before the cops show up. You should report back to Benny and let him know she's safe.”

Silvio hesitated for a moment. “Shouldn't she come with me? Don Altamura will want to make sure she's protected.”

“She will be, I promise. But you were just seen inside the restaurant, and if the cops decide to round you up for questioning, she shouldn't be with you. No one in town knows me, so I can keep her off the grid for a few hours until the heat dies down. Now go! We don't have time to debate this.”

Silvio nodded and ran off.

“Come on, let's get you someplace safe so you can relax,” Leo said, offering her a hand. She took it and he lifted her to her feet. They hurried off down a side alley with Max loping along behind them.

“You saved my life,” said Stef, her voice quivering. “I can't believe it. You saved my life.”

“Aw, it's just what any guy would have done. No big deal. Are you sure you're okay? You must be real shaken up.”

“I'll be all right,” she breathed. “I just have a bad taste in my mouth, that's all.”

“Like copper, right?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“That's the adrenaline,” he replied, smiling. “It happens to everyone. Luckily, I know just the thing to help with that.”

Chapter 10

Stef

Thirty minutes later, Stef was sitting at a small table in Leo's hotel room, eagerly wolfing down a shrimp sandwich and french fries from Johnny's Po-Boys. Leo watched her, amused. Max stood in the corner with his hands folded in front of his belly.

“It looks like you haven't had any real food to eat in a year,” Leo commented wryly.

“Try fifteen years,” Stef replied, moaning with delight between huge bites. “My mother's been slapping my hand away from food since I was about six years old. She said I had to lose my baby fat. Wow, this stuff is so good.”

“Well, your mother ain't here, so go nuts. Don't forget your milkshake.”

Stef immediately snatched the milkshake and put her lips around the straw, drinking over half of it at once. Then she put it down, her hand going to her forehead as she frowned.

“Ow. Ow! Gosh, it feels like someone just shoved an ice pick into my head! What is that?”

“It's just a brain freeze,” Leo said. “It happens when you gulp down ice cream too quickly. It'll go away in a second or two. Jesus, you weren't kidding, were you? Your parents really never let you eat stuff like this? Ever?”

Stef shook her head, returning to her sandwich. “They want me skinny. Easier to marry me off that way.”

Leo's cell phone rang, and he answered it. “Yeah?”

Stef could hear her father's voice. She'd never heard him speak so loudly before, or sound so worried. “Leo! Silvio just told me what happened. Is Stef okay?”

“Stef is perfectly fine, Benny,” Leo replied smoothly. “I've got her, she's completely safe. I know how shaken up you must be.”

“Those biker animals! I can't believe they would attack my daughter. By God, I'll make them pay. I'll hunt down every last one of them, and—”

“I doubt you'll have to worry about them anymore, at least for a good long while,” Leo said. “We've butted heads with our share of these motorcycle types up in Toronto, so I know how they tend to operate. I took out their president, and a few of their other guys too. They'll need time to regroup, elect a new prez, and take on some new members before they'll be in any position to show their faces around here again. They're like wolves. When they're rolling with a pack, they're big and scary, but smack their leader in the nose hard enough and they'll run off with their tails between their legs.”

Stef realized that she'd stopped chewing—she was staring at Leo, taking in his every word. The more time she spent with him, the more fascinating he seemed. First he'd defended her against the bikers so fearlessly that they may as well have been lobbing tomatoes at him instead of shotgun blasts. Then he fed her and took care of her, so she wouldn't be so scared. And now he was talking to her father calmly and confidently, as though they were equals. She'd never heard anyone do that before. When it came to Benny, most men were frightened, or at least subservient.

Leo saw that she was looking at him and flashed her a reassuring smile as her father spoke again.

“My contacts in the police department went to investigate the scene. They didn't find any dead bikers. Are you positively certain that you killed them?”

“Oh, definitely,” Leo said. “Like I said, I've dealt with these types before. They're a lot more sentimental than you think. We saw them pick up the dead bodies and load them into their van before they ran off...probably so they could give them a proper burial, pour whiskey out over their graves, all that shit. But believe me, they're out of your hair for the foreseeable future.”

“Thank you, Leo. For what you've done for me and my family tonight, I promise that you will have my everlasting gratitude. Where are you now? I'll send my men to come and retrieve Stefania.”

“I'll tell you what,” Leo said, looking at his watch. “Have your guys meet us at the corner of Basin and Iberville in one hour.”

“I will. And again, thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” Leo said, ending the call.

“Why an hour?” Stef asked. “That corner is right outside.”

“Well, based on everything you've told me about your old man so far, I figured you could use a little break before having to deal with him again,” Leo explained with a grin.

In that moment, Stef felt her fascination with Leo give way to utter infatuation. She'd been prepared to write him off as no different from the other men her father had set her up with, but he'd surprised her at every turn. How did he understand her needs and emotions so well? How could someone in the same line of work as her father be so generous, thoughtful, and compassionate?

As Stef picked up her sandwich again, she realized that her hands were shaking. Leo saw them too.

“I must still be a little keyed-up,” she admitted.

“That's totally natural after what you've been through,” Leo said. He turned to Max. “Hey, there's a diner across the street. Sit outside, grab a cup of coffee, and shoot me a text when her people show up, okay?”

Max raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to one side, looking at Leo quizzically.

“Go on, it'll be fine,” Leo insisted.

Max sighed, shook his head, and lumbered out of the room, closing the door behind him. Stef heard his short, heavy steps going down the hall.

“I figure it'll be easier for you to relax without him standing in the corner,” Leo said. “Here, let me see if I can help you loosen up a bit.”

Leo stood behind her chair and put his hands on her shoulders, kneading them. A moan escaped her lips before she even realized it was coming. His hands were so soft, yet his touch was firm and sure. He seemed to know exactly where and how she wanted to be caressed and massaged. She wondered what his hands would feel like on the rest of her body.

“Golly, that feels amazing,” Stef said, closing her eyes and arching her neck.

“Yeah, I thought this might do the trick. Your shoulders are lovely. Very responsive.” His hand moved to the nape of her neck, squeezing it. Stef felt something quiver deep in her stomach in response to the sublime pressure of his fingers.

She wanted him. She couldn't believe it—she'd never felt this way about a man so soon after meeting him. In fact, she couldn't remember ever feeling this way about a man at all. She'd had a few crushes in high school, and she'd lost her virginity during a casual fling when she was seventeen, before Benny and Gracie had started to act more like jailers than parents.

But this was so different. It was like someone had switched on a lamp deep inside of her, and she felt its light shining through every part of herself.

“And by the way, what's with all the 'gosh' and 'golly' stuff?” Leo continued. “I don't think I've heard you swear once this whole evening, even when the bullets were flying.”

“My parents wouldn't let me swear either,” she said. “They said no one would want to marry a trash-mouth.”

“Well, again, I don't see your mom and dad in here with us, and I certainly don't mind, so feel free to curse a blue streak. As a matter of fact, I want to hear you do it.”

Stef opened her eyes and craned her neck, looking up at Leo. She could feel herself blushing. “What do you want me to say?”

“I guess we should start with the basics, right? So say 'fuck.'”

Stef parted her lips slowly, forming the word for the first time in her life. “Fuck.”

Leo smiled, leaning in more closely. “Again.”

She took a breath and let it out along with the word, drawing it out. “Fffffffffffuck.”

He was even closer now, his breath tickling her skin tantalizingly. There was a naughty gleam in his eye, and his lips were inches from her ear. “Say it like you mean it.”

Stef found herself lifting her face toward his, until their lips were almost touching. She could see that he wanted her, and she knew he could see it in her eyes too. Just a simple push forward, that's all it would take for her mouth to be on his...

“Fuck,” she breathed, and in that moment it was a wish, a prayer, an invitation.

His fingers gently traced a line down the side of her face, and a moment later they were kissing, their tongues exploring each other. She lifted her arms, wrapping them around his body and pulling him down to her. He lowered himself to his knees next to her chair, one hand on the back of her neck as the other slid down to her left breast. She felt her nipple harden as he reached down, pushing her dress and bra aside to expose it.

Leo pulled his lips away from hers and began to kiss the side of her neck, working his way down to her chest. He took her nipple between his teeth tenderly, flicking his tongue against it until her breath came in sharp gasps. She put a hand on the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair.

“Do you like that?” he murmured. His breath was warm against her breast, and she felt herself getting wet.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I love it.”

“Let's see how much,” he teased, putting his other hand between her thighs. Her legs pulled together reflexively for a second—she still couldn't believe she was doing this with someone she'd only met a couple of hours ago—but she willed herself to relax, opening them for him. His fingertips tickled her delicate skin, tracing dizzying patterns all the way up to her panties. He pushed past the edge of her panties, stroking the lips of her pussy until she felt like she might faint from ecstasy.

“You're really soaking down there,” he said, taunting her. His finger pressed deeper, sliding inside of her. She bit her lip, whimpering softly and sliding down in her chair.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Stefania?” Leo asked, looking up at her. His eyes were like the night sky, dark and deep and starry.

She nodded, breathing hard.

“Then say it.”

Stef took a deep breath. She'd never said it in her life, but she'd never wanted anything so badly in her life, either. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Again.”

Her entire body felt like it was covered in goosebumps. “I want you to fuck me, Leo. Please, I need it, please...”

His powerful arms were wrapped around her body before she knew it, lifting her out of the chair and lowering her to the floor on her back. His hands pushed her dress up, sliding her panties down her legs. She sat up and reached for his belt, undoing it and lowering the zipper below it. Her fingers disappeared into his pants, finding his warm, hard cock and releasing it. She loved the way it felt in her hands—throbbing with desire for her.

He pushed her down again and she surrendered, feeling the hard floor under her back. She spread her legs, her pussy exposed and waiting for him.

Leo positioned himself over her, using one hand to brace himself and the other to cradle the back of her neck. He kissed her again, and then he was inside her, so fiercely and suddenly that she cried out. Her lack of experience had kept her tight, and she could feel every inch of him as he plunged into her, until it felt like it would tear her apart.

It hurt sharply, but Stef held onto him even tighter. She couldn't bear the idea of him pulling out of her. She wanted him to open her up, to mold and re-shape her until she fit him perfectly.

“Is this what you want, baby?” Leo challenged, his eyes blazing into hers.

“Fuck me,” she hissed, digging her fingernails into his back. The words spilled from her mouth uncontrollably, until they sounded like they were coming from someone else. “Fuck me, fuck me, oh God, harder, please, harder, don't stop...”

Leo thrust into her violently, the shaft of his cock rubbing against her clit as the tip prodded her cervix insistently. The pleasure and pain mingled into something thunderous and indescribable, and she felt the friction from the rug burning her back.

Over and over, he entered her and she met him stroke for stroke. Their moans overlapped, building to a furious crescendo, a divine symphony of lust.

“You feel so good,” Leo purred into her ear. “I'm going to come.”

“Do it,” she begged. “I want to feel it.”

Leo gushed inside her, filling her up. Seconds later, she climaxed with a loud cry, her pussy twitching and tightening around his cock as she wrapped her legs around him.

There were tears in her eyes, and the muscles in her body ached and spasmed—but she'd never felt happier.

Chapter 11

Bax

A few moments after Bax withdrew from Stef and collapsed on the floor next to her, his cell phone blipped. He groaned, pulling himself up again. “Well, that was some perfect timing, huh?”

He checked the screen, and saw the text from Mule: “They're here.”

“Looks like we'd better pull ourselves together and head down there,” he said. Stef nodded briskly, reaching for her panties and pulling them back on.

As Bax buckled his belt and zipped up his pants, he found himself trapped in the moment of crystalline clarity and reason that most men experienced in the ten or fifteen seconds immediately following an orgasm. He'd assured Tommy that he wouldn't fall back into his old habits and endanger the con by fucking this girl, so why had he?

He tried to tell himself that it was no big deal—it was a familiar weakness of his, he'd indulged it many times before even when he shouldn't have, and most of the time, he'd managed to get away unscathed.

Well, maybe not “most of the time.” But at least half, right? Maybe even a little more?

Still, it irked him. He'd gone into this scam genuinely determined not to let his libido put him at risk. These weren't just clueless tourists or blustering businessmen they were targeting here—they were dangerous gangsters, and the punishment for blowing this score would be severe. So what made Stef so disarming that he'd succumbed to his lust almost instantly?

For starters, he had to admit that she was astonishingly beautiful. Her dark hair, her brown doe eyes, her swan-like neck and delicate frame. He'd expected her to be charmed and impressed by him during the date and the “rescue” from the Devils—that was part of the con, after all—but he hadn't expected to be so damn captivated by the sincerity and desire in her eyes when she looked at him.

Stef smiled at him as she fixed her dress. “You're staring.”

“Sorry about that,” Bax said, returning her smile. “It's hard not to.”

“I, um, hope I wasn't too forward tonight. I mean, I never do this kind of thing, you know? Seriously, never. I don't know what came over me.”

“Adrenaline's a funny thing sometimes,” he reassured her. “No need to overthink it.”

“And earlier tonight, you said you were already distracted...”

“I guess you distracted me from my distraction,” he replied smoothly, giving her a quick kiss. The feeling of her soft lips against his was tantalizing, and he wanted to linger, but he forced himself to pull back instead. It was better to leave her wanting more. “Come on, let's go down there before they start to worry about us. Everyone's probably already on edge.”

As they left the room and headed for the elevator, she asked, “So what is going on with your father?”

“It's complicated,” Bax said, hitting the button for the lobby. “And I'm not really supposed to go around talking about it.”

“I'm not really 'supposed' to go jumping into bed with men I just met, either,” Stef prodded with a grin.

“I don't remember a bed being involved, but you've got a point. Tell you what—I'll give you the whole story next time we see each other. Sound good?”

“And when's that going to be?” she asked as the elevator doors opened.

Before Bax could answer, a cadre of six stone-faced gangsters came forward to greet them, led by Silvio.

“He's still got you running around tonight?” Bax asked Silvio. “Jesus, I figured after everything you've been through, you'd be sitting somewhere quiet and nursing a drink or three by now.”

“Nothing is more important than ensuring that Stefania is delivered to her father safely,” Silvio rasped. “Don Altamura wants me to thank you again for your quick thinking earlier, and for protecting his most prized possession.”

Bax felt Stef stiffen next to him at being called a “possession.” He couldn't blame her. It reminded him of something from his own life, but he couldn't quite place it.

“Come along, Stefania,” Silvio said, taking her by the arm gently. “It's time to go home.”

As Silvio led her away, Stef called to Bax over her shoulder. “Even with everything that happened, I still feel like I should thank you for a lovely evening, ha!”

Bax smiled. For a pampered rich girl, she sure had some balls on her.

“Likewise, I'm sure,” he called back.

Once Stef and the gangsters were gone, Bax turned to Mule, who stood near the check-in desk. “So! All in all, I'd say things are going well so far. I guess we should go to The Lucky Hand and meet up with the guys, huh?”

Mule raised his eyebrows and followed Bax out the door.

Chapter 12

Skull

Skull's forehead ached furiously where the paintball had hit it, and the streaks of red dye were already stiffening and cracking on his face. But he was so filled with glee that he didn't care. He hopped up onto the bar at The Lucky Hand, pantomiming a shotgun and bellowing theatrically.

“It's time for some motherfucking payback, you worthless dago bitches! We're here for the girl, and you can't stop us! Eat buckshot! Blam! Blam!”

The room erupted with laughter except for Chillie Millie, who stoically poured out shots of whiskey for herself and the others.

“How about Bax, huh?” Panda chortled, holding his sides. “The others are all cowering behind the car, and he's just standing tall like a badass, killing guys with each shot like he's fuckin' Dirty Harry or some shit.”

“My favorite part was Ash's Oscar-winning performance,” Bumper snorted. He clutched his chest dramatically, shrieking in a panicked falsetto. “'Oh, no! You wasted Skull! You scoundrels! You dirty rats!'”

“'They're just too much for us, guys!'” Ash chimed in merrily. “'We've gotta get out of here!'” He mimed hiking up a skirt and mincing away quickly, and several others followed suit.

Skull laughed so hard he fell off the bar, tears streaming down his cheeks as they turned purple. “Stop it,” he wheezed, slapping his knee. “I can't breathe!”

“Hey, how about that Mule, huh?” Bumper said. “Can you believe he switched out Silvio's gun without being noticed? Man, how does a guy that big have such fast hands?”

“Speaking of which,” David pointed out, “shouldn't he and Bax have made it back here by now?”

“Relax, they'll be here,” Tommy assured him. “Bax is probably buying himself a drink at every bar in the French Quarter, patting himself on the back.”

“He goddamn deserves it,” Skull said. He turned to Harry, touching his forehead and wincing. “Dude, those paint rounds sting like a sonuvabitch! You couldn't have made them any softer?”

“They were still fired out of a damn Desert Eagle,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes. “What, did you expect them to feel like dandelion puffs? I thought you bikers were supposed to be tough. You're just lucky Bax is such a crack shot, or you could've lost an eye.”

The door opened and Bax walked in with Mule. Everyone in the bar applauded, and Skull put two fingers in his mouth, whistling loudly.

“You're finally here,” Tommy exclaimed, getting up from his seat and bringing shots of whiskey to the two men. “What took you guys so long?”

Before Bax could open his mouth, Mule answered. “He fucked her.”

The room fell silent immediately.

“Hey, what the hell is that?” Bax sputtered, sounding annoyed. “Come on, don't say shit like that. How did you...I mean...why the hell would you think that, anyway? That's...”

Mule looked at Bax darkly.

“Bax, that ain't true, is it?” Skull asked. His heart felt like it was dropping down an elevator shaft. They'd gone over the plan carefully, and this wasn't part of it. No, it sounded a lot like the kind of reckless stuff that Bax had gotten up to when they were still a couple of silly kids.

The stuff that generally got them into deep trouble.

“Of course it's not true,” Bax said. “Hey, just because I was alone with her for an hour, you think I can't control myself? You honestly believe I'd jeopardize this whole operation like that, just for a quick screw?”

David shut his eyes tightly, rubbing his temples. “Jesus Christ, Bax.”

Tommy leaned in close to Bax and sniffed twice. His eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth quivered with rage. “Holy shit. You did. You actually fucked her, you testa di cazzo, you stupid, selfish motherfucking stronzo—”

“Hey, hey, careful!” Bax protested. “I actually know what those words mean now, you know.”

Tommy kicked a chair, sending it flying across the room. “Goddamn it, Bax, can't you take anything seriously? What did I say to you, huh? What were my exact fucking words? Do not fuck this girl. Not this one. We've got millions of dollars on the line, and you're pissing it away just so you can get your balls drained!”

“You've really got to work on your mixed metaphors, there, Tommy,” Bax said. “Am I pissing, or am I draining my balls? I can't be doing both.”

“I should have known better,” Harry growled, slamming a fist on the bar. “I should have walked away from this the moment I saw it was you, because you always fucking do this. No matter what the score is or how many other people are involved, you always find some way to make it about you. But no, I got greedy and fell for your horseshit all over again...”

“Men,” Millie sighed bitterly. She poured herself a double shot of whiskey, draining it in one gulp.

“And you!” Tommy barked, jamming an accusing finger in Mule's face. “You were supposed to be keeping an eye on things. Why the hell would you leave him alone with her for an hour?”

“Couldn't exactly say anything, could I?” Mule asked.

“Guys, there's no need for any of this drama,” Bax insisted. “Okay, fine, I got caught up in the moment and went a little off-book. So what? Nothing has changed. The plan is still solid. If anything, it's even more solid now because she actually likes me.”

“This don't feel solid to me, Bax,” Skull said sadly. He knew big, tough bikers weren't supposed to have hurt feelings, but damn it, he had them just the same. “This feels bad. Like we can't rely on you to stick to the blueprint, so we'll all be sitting on one ass cheek waiting to hear about the next decision you made without telling us.”

Bax looked hurt. “How can you stand there and say you can't rely on me, Skull? Haven't we known each other since we were in second grade? Didn't I come running the minute you said you needed my help? Didn't I come up with a plan to get ten times your money back for you?”

“Yeah, but now you're making moves that go against that plan,” said Skull. “And for what? To get your dick wet? What is that?”

“I should have known better,” Harry repeated. “I should have realized that the only way you could ever keep your head during a scam is if someone milked you like a fucking dairy cow every morning.”

“Oh, and are you volunteering for that job, Harry? Because if so, thanks but no thanks.” Bax let out a frustrated sigh. “Look. Clearly, you guys just don't understand. Even if I went a little too far, the fact is, seduction is still a crucial component of this whole thing. I mean, Christ, it's the Spanish Prisoner con.”

“I don't give a flying fuck if it's the Chinese Dentist con,” Tommy snapped. “You had no right to take that risk on your own, and you know it.”

“So what, then?” Bax asked. “You guys want to just pack it in and forget the whole thing? You want to walk away from all that money and let these greasers shit all over you whenever they feel like it? Because it sure sounds like that's what I'm hearing.”

The others exchanged glances uncertainly.

“I think we can still do the rest of the plan,” Skull said. He felt an uncertain twinge in his gut, but he couldn't help it. He and Bax went back too far, and he badly wanted to feel like he could trust his old friend despite this lapse in judgment. “But I'd say you owe everyone in this room your solemn promise that you'll stick to the script from now on.”

“Oh, his 'solemn promise?'” Tommy blurted out. “What, like cross his heart, stick a needle, all that shit? You must think we're all in second grade, if you expect us to fall for that load of crap.”

“I expect Bax to be the honorable man I know he really is, behind all the bluffing and bullshit,” Skull said evenly. “We go back too far for me not to.”

Bax nodded. “Absolutely. Thank you, Skull. That means a lot to me.”

Tommy threw up his hands, exasperated. “We're going along with this fiasco? Fine. But from now on, Bax, you do not spend one second alone with that girl. Period.” He turned to Mule. “If he tries to send you away again, hoof him in the fucking balls.”

“Suits me,” said Mule.

“All right,” Skull said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Glad we've got that sorted out. So what's next, Bax?”

“You'll need to find us a brick of heroin,” Bax told him. “As pure as you can find. And you can't get it from anyone who could get word back to Altamura. This has to be completely off the grid.”

Skull thought for a moment. “There's a guy over in Mississippi who might be able to sell it to us. But it's still not gonna be that pure—my guess is, he'll have stepped on it at least three or four times by then.”

“That's no problem. We can make it work.” Bax turned to Millie. “How about it, Chills? Are you ready to bust out your chemistry set?”

Millie grunted her assent, pouring another drink for herself.

“That ain't the only thing.” Skull shifted his weight nervously. “Scoring that much H is gonna cost us. Big-time. And we already chipped in for your suit, and for the hotel room—”

“Consider all of it an investment,” Bax grinned confidently. “By the time this is all over, you aren't going to care what anything costs anymore.”

Skull wanted to believe him.

Except now, deep down, he wasn't quite so sure.

Chapter 13

Bax

Two days later, Bax sat at a work table in a warehouse in Raceland, less than an hour's drive from New Orleans. The Lucky Hand was shuttered, with a sign on the door saying “Closed Until Further Notice.” The bar had functioned as an immediate rendezvous point following the staged attack on Stef, but the next logical step was to make it seem abandoned, in order to convince Altamura and his men that any remaining Devils had skipped town. Skull had slipped the warehouse's owner some cash to let them use it for a few weeks, and the MC made it into a temporary base of operations.

They'd also made a firm rule: Until this scam was over, no member of the Devils was allowed to wear his cut or even ride his motorcycle, and all of the bikers were strictly forbidden from setting foot in New Orleans. All it would take was for one of them to be recognized—if word got back to Altamura, he could pounce on that Devil and torture him into giving up the location of the others.

As most of the Devils sat in another section of the warehouse with Mule—drinking beer by the case, watching TV, and having belching contests with each other—Bax watched as Chillie Millie set up the chemistry supplies she'd bought in Baton Rouge the previous day. The array of burners, funnels, and chemicals made the corner of the dusty room look like a section of Dr. Frankenstein's lab. Tommy, David, and Harry observed this scene as well.

“Were you able to pick up everything you'll need?” David asked.

Millie examined one of the tall glass beakers, polishing it meticulously with a small square of fabric. “It'll do.”

“I still don't see why someone like you would buy all-new equipment in every place you go,” Tommy mused. He removed a chocolate bar from his pocket, unwrapped it, and took a big bite as he wandered over to Millie's setup. “Why not just bring your own kit with you?”

Based on the look Millie gave Tommy, Bax figured that must have been one of the dumbest questions anyone had ever asked her. “Do you travel around with a big suitcase full of evidence from the crimes you've committed?”

Tommy blinked. “No, I guess not. I never thought of it that way.” He licked chocolate from his fingertips, reaching for a funnel. “What does this stuff even do, anyway?”

Millie's thin fingers clamped around Tommy's wrist. “It gets busted over your head if you try to touch it with your grubby hands.”

“Okay, okay!” She released Tommy's wrist, and he rubbed it. “Jesus, your hands are like ice, you know that?”

“Poor circulation,” she sneered. “It's how I got my nickname. Or did you think it came from my warm, sunny disposition?”

Tommy shook his head, returning to his seat next to Bax. “You've got problems, lady,” he grumbled under his breath.

There was a series of five rhythmic knocks high on the door, followed by a pause and five more knocks lower down. The coded knock was Skull's idea—a crude approximation of the first few bars of “All Along the Watchtower.”

Harry unlocked the door and Skull entered, carrying a shopping bag. In place of his usual outlaw duds, he wore a new pair of jeans and an ugly sweater.

“I can't believe you've got me riding around in a rental car like some half-assed cager,” Skull said, dropping the bag on the floor. “And in this stupid outfit, no less. I may as well have had James fucking Taylor playing on the radio.”

“Hey, low profile means low profile,” Tommy snapped. “You get seen and I get dead, remember? No one recognized you, did they?”

“Not 'til I met up with Whitman over in Hattiesburg. Once he was done laughing his ass off at my clothes, it took a lot to convince him we weren't going to use his stuff to set up shop for ourselves down here. He knew it wasn't for recreational use, since using junk is against club rules.”

“So what did you tell him?” Bax asked.

“I said we were gonna use it to set some guy up for possession with intent.” Skull opened the shopping bag and took out a brick of heroin wrapped in clear plastic. “He wasn't thrilled about us using his stuff to do that, so it cost extra.”

Millie took the brick from Skull, examining it carefully. “Hmm. Some serious color impurities, and a significant amount of particulate matter. Whatever you paid for this, it was too much.” She carried the brick over to a plastic bucket and pried off the round plastic top, revealing a clear liquid inside.

“What's that?” Harry asked.

Millie dug her thumbnail into the plastic wrapping of the brick, prying it apart to expose the powder beneath it.

“This is water,” she said, dumping the heroin into it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Skull shrieked. He ran to the bucket just in time to see the heroin dissolve into it. “Do you have any idea how much that's worth?”

“Nothing compared to what it'll be worth in a few hours, I assure you.”

Skull turned to Bax, his face red. “What the hell is this crazy bitch talking about?”

Bax smiled, slapping Skull on the shoulder good-naturedly. “Relax, Skull! You're about to watch an act of absolute alchemy. You've heard of spinning straw into gold? Well, Chillie Millie is going to turn this stepped-on garbage into the purest junk you've ever seen.”

“Bullshit,” Skull growled. “No one can really do that. It's a fucking urban myth.”

“Then I guess I must have gotten my degree in mythology instead of chemistry,” Millie said calmly, “because that's exactly what I'm going to do.”

“Okay, fine.” Skull walked over to where Bax and the others had been sitting, grabbed a chair, turned it around backwards, and straddled it. “Show me.”

Millie eyed Skull and the others balefully. “You really expect me to do this for an audience? This isn't an episode of Bill Nye, you know. I'll be working with dangerous chemicals.”

“Relax, Millie,” Bax said. “You're a pro. I'm sure having us around won't affect your work one bit.”

“All right. But stay quiet, keep your distance, and no smoking. If you light up around these fumes, you could kill us all. And remember, kids—don't try this at home.”

Millie put on rubber gloves and a pair of safety glasses. Then she took a long, thin strip of paper from her equipment. It had colored sections on it. “We'll be monitoring this process using these pH strips.”

She dipped one into the water and pulled it out, checking it with a nod. “Yep, that's what I expected. Very weak. So we're going to add sodium hydroxide, or lye, to the solution.”

“Lye?” Skull asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Shit, don't they use that as acid to dissolve roadkill and corpses and stuff?”

“Yes.” Millie unscrewed a plastic jar labeled “Caustic Soda.”

“But ain't that poison?”

She glared at him. “It's all poison. Now shut your mouth or leave the room. I'm not exactly making banana smoothies here. I need to be able to concentrate.”

Skull nodded, folding his arms over his chest.

Millie carefully measured out the white crystals of lye, dropping them into the bucket. She stirred the mixture with a glass rod, then pulled it out and touched the tip to another pH strip. She grunted quietly and repeated the process a few more times until she was satisfied with the results.

“We've reached a pH level of 9. Now we extract the heroin from the solution.” It seemed like she was mostly talking to herself. She popped the cap on a brown bottle, measuring the liquid and adding it to the bucket. “We use chloroform for this rather than diethyl ether, because it's non-flammable and can be used as a handy solvent for other opiates, like codeine. Not morphine, though, of course.”

“Of course,” Harry commented wryly.

Millie shot him a dirty look as she carefully skimmed the chloroform layer from the top of the bucket, pouring it into a beaker with a rounded base.

“Now that we've concentrated our heroin again, we wash it with a milliliter of cold water.”

“How the hell do you 'wash' heroin?” Tommy whispered to Bax.

Millie took a bottle of water from a cooler next to her equipment and applied it to the beaker with a small dropper. She swished the mixture around for a few seconds, then lit a burner and gently lowered the beaker over it. As fumes began to escape the glass container, she turned her head away and put on a surgical mask.

“Chloroform is a carcinogen, so I'd recommend taking shallow breaths. We need to make sure we remove it from the heat before the residue on the bottom starts to burn.” Millie waited a while longer, then switched the burner off. She used a set of tongs to lift the beaker and poured the contents into another glass container.

“Next, we add a diluted solution of hydrochloric acid.” She applied the liquid to the container.

“More acid?” Skull's eyes widened. “When they test this stuff, we want them to get high, not drop dead with holes burning through them.”

“Knock it off, okay?” Bax snapped. “She's a pro. She knows what she's doing. Stop breaking her balls, or you'll distract her and fuck the whole thing up.”

“Says the guy who almost fucked the whole thing up,” Harry snickered.

Millie stirred the container with the glass rod, then touched the tip to another pH strip. “As we add this, we neutralize the diacetyl morphine base and convert it into its water-soluble form as hydrochloride salt. Once all of the solid material has dissolved and we've reached a pH level of about 5 or 6, we'll have created a form of liquid heroin that's entirely free of impurities.”

“But we can't hand Altamura a liquid,” Skull balked. “He's expecting it in powder form. That's gonna look suspicious as hell.”

Millie smiled. “That's where my super-secret ingredient comes in.” She reached into a bag and pulled out a small sack of baking flour.

“You've got to be kidding.” Tommy shook his head.

“Ordinary flour,” Millie said smugly. “We use it as a base, with ten parts flour to one part heroin solution. We freeze it, crush it, screen it, and what's left will be a fine powder that kicks like it's fresh from the poppy fields.”

“That's some Breaking Bad shit right there,” Harry said appreciatively. “Amazing.”

“See? What did I tell you? Millie's a genius.” Bax grinned, elbowing Tommy in the ribs.

Millie smirked, miming a small curtsey.

“Fine,” Tommy conceded. “She's a genius. She's a wizard. She's Rumple-fucking-stiltskin. So now what?”

“Now call Altamura,” Bax said, “and set up the test so we can get our big payoff.”

Chapter 14

Stef

“Unbelievable!”

Stef's father had exclaimed this word at least fifty times over the last two days. This time it was from behind the desk in his study, with Stef sitting across from him as her mother sat on a small couch in the corner and flipped through a fashion magazine.

Benny's eyes twinkled happily, and every pearly tooth was revealed in a wide smile. Stef couldn't remember ever seeing him so happy. She'd even caught him dancing and clicking his heels in the halls of their house, singing to himself in Italian.

Stef had felt like singing and dancing ever since her night with Leo too, but she'd restrained herself, trying to seem aloof. Part of it was because she couldn't stand the idea of her father feeling vindicated by setting her up with someone she ended up liking—it still didn't make up for all of the forced and uncomfortable dates he'd arranged for her, or the horrible things he'd had done to Arthur.

But the other part was that Stef felt like a whole new woman after making love to Leo, and she was afraid her parents would notice the change and figure out where it came from.

It was hard to hide it, though. She felt strong, happy, confident—like she could spread her arms and soar through the sky like a bird if she wanted to. The world around her seemed brighter and more vivid. Being with her parents was bearable now that she knew there was someone out there who'd let her be herself when she was with him. The dry, tasteless meals didn't even seem so bad anymore, since she could look forward to indulging in deliciously unhealthy food the next time she was with Leo. And every night, before she went to sleep, her hand would drift between her thighs and she'd imagine how her second date with Leo would end.

Even though Stef did her best to act like her usual sullen, distant self, she still noticed that her mother was looking at her differently—as though somehow, she knew exactly what had happened while Stef was with Leo, and she didn't like it one bit. Gracie hadn't said anything, but her eyes were hard and flinty, and her thin lips automatically twisted into a grimace whenever she caught Stef's eye.

There was only one shadow that passed over Stef's happiness now and then. She didn't have Leo's phone number, which meant there was no way for her to contact him directly about a second date. She'd have to wait until her father arranged it for her.

Based on how cheerful and effusive he'd been acting, Stef figured she probably wouldn't have to wait too long.

“Absolutely incredible,” Benny said again with a laugh. “Gracie, can you believe it? This kid from nowhere—from Canada—walks into my town like some kind of gunslinger from a Western! And when over a dozen bikers show up to grab my daughter—”

“Listen to him,” Gracie muttered, rolling her eyes. “First it was eight of them, then ten, and now it's over a dozen.”

“Ah, who cares how many there were?” Benny replied with a dismissive wave. “The point is, Leo, Silvio, and that fat guy were outnumbered about three to one.”

This, too, was unusual behavior for her father. Usually, he was known for being exacting and meticulous in his attention to detail. Now he actually seemed to be having fun inflating the story more with each new telling, like some amateur fisherman bragging about the marlin he once caught. If Stef didn't hate him so much, she might have found it charming.

“Max,” Stef said. “That's the name of Leo's bodyguard.”

“Max, right. Thank you. I should remember that, so I can thank him properly next time I see him. So they're outnumbered, and what does Leo do?”

“We know what Leo did,” her mother said. “You've told us about a hundred times, despite the fact that you weren't even there when it happened.”

“He doesn't even take cover,” Benny continued relentlessly. “Other people are running and diving and panicking, but not Leo. Instead, the kid plants his feet and ignores the bullets flying at him like he's Superman, and he shoots three of the scumbags. Bam! He even takes out their leader with one shot.”

“'Right between the eyes,'” Gracie recited in a bored tone.

“Right between the eyes. Amazing. Like something from an action flick. The kid's got ice water in his veins, no question about it. And once it's all over, Silvio wants to just grab Stef, but no, Leo's still thinking ten steps ahead. He takes her someplace safe for a couple hours until the heat dies down. I tell you, Gracie, if this kid weren't already going to marry Stef, I'd adopt him myself.”

Gracie raised an eyebrow. “Who says she's going to marry him?”

“Are you kidding? The guy looks like a movie star, dresses like a millionaire, and acts like a superhero. Why wouldn't she marry him?”

“I haven't heard anyone ask her about it, and I haven't heard her say anything about it either. So that seems like quite the assumption on your part.”

“Fine, then let's ask her.” Benny turned to Stef. “How about it? You like him, don't you?”

Stef felt torn. If she admitted how much she liked Leo, her father would feel justified in deciding who she should see. If she didn't, her father might not arrange another date with him.

She shrugged, trying to sound casual. “He's okay. I like him more than I liked the other guys you set me up with.”

Benny smiled triumphantly. “I knew it! You're moping and trying to hide how much you like him, because you don't want to give me the satisfaction, do you? I know you won't believe this, but I actually admire that stubborn streak of yours, and the way you try to hide what you're really thinking so people can't use it against you. You get that from me, and I respect it. I always have.”

You never seemed to respect it much when you were controlling every aspect of my life and punishing me for not going along with it, Stef thought. But I guess you're feeling magnanimous in your victory, huh?

“But finally, we can stop this constant tug-of-war with each other,” her father continued happily. “We can go back to being a loving father and daughter, now that we've found a good husband for you. Unbelievable. Isn't it unbelievable, Gracie?”

Gracie sighed and tossed her magazine aside, looking Benny in the eye. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I do think it's unbelievable.”

Benny's eyes narrowed. “There's a certain tone in your voice, and I'm having a hard time interpreting it. Perhaps you can help me. When you say you think it's unbelievable, do you mean that it's unbelievable...or that you don't believe it?”

“I mean I don't believe it,” Gracie said flatly. “Any of it.”

Benny paused for a moment, then turned to Stef again. “Go upstairs, please. I'd like to speak to your mother alone.”

Stef sighed. “Of course. It's about my future, so why should I be in the room?” Before either of her parents could respond, she got up and walked out of the room.

But this wasn't the first time her mother and father had dismissed her so they could talk about her, and it wouldn't be the first time she'd hovered outside to listen in on them. She'd lived in this house her entire life, and she'd become an expert on which floor panels creaked. She avoided them now as she positioned herself next to the door carefully.

“Okay, what's your problem with all of this?” Benny asked angrily.

“For starters, it seems much too convenient for me. You're right—this kid came out of nowhere. You've never heard of him or his family. You've barely even heard of the man who introduced him to you.”

“Tommy Quattrocchi is a made guy. That's reason enough for me to trust him.”

Stef heard her mother laugh bitterly. “What a bunch of baloney. Off the top of my head, I can name at least six made guys who double-crossed the bosses they worked for, and another six who turned State's Evidence and sent their whole families to prison. And this kid's supposed to be from Canada, right? Because suddenly, there's made guys in Canada? Who ever heard of such a thing?”

“Of course there are made guys in Canada,” Benny insisted. “There are made guys everywhere.”

“Why? Because Leo told you so? It's not like you could check on that anyway, right? Since you don't know anyone up there, and he knows it. 'Canada,' right. Pull the other one.”

“Do you hear yourself? Do you even realize how paranoid you sound right now?”

“And this guy you've never heard of—from a family that's supposed to be so small, no one else has ever heard of them either—he just shows up with some multi-billion-dollar deal that'll make you the most powerful capo in twelve states, and drops it right in your lap.”

“Gracie, I know you don't know much about how the world out there works, but believe me, this kind of thing happens,” her father protested. “Just ask the guys on Wall Street. They hear about big opportunities from unlikely sources that no one else has ever heard of, they act on that information, and they make piles of money. It happens all the time, except that this time, it happened to us. Why can't you just be happy about that?”

“Oh, I don't know how the world works? You're looking for a husband for Stef, and suddenly a handsome stranger shows up out of the blue? And on their first date, he just happens to be put in a position where he zaps your most hated enemies and comes out looking like a hero?”

“Attacks like these can happen at any time. You forget that, because I do such a good job of keeping you and Stef safe. But they still happen, and never when you'd expect.”

“If the whole thing was nothing more than a dog-and-pony show, then this is exactly when I'd expect it,” her mother snapped. “He gets to save your precious daughter and earn your trust so you swallow whatever nonsense he tells you. And look at you! Look how well it's working!”

“I don't like how you're speaking to me right now.” Stef heard something dangerous in her father's voice. “It sounds like you think I'm an idiot and a dupe, and I don't appreciate it.”

“And why would these bikers stop to pick up their friends' dead bodies and take them away? Before the cops or anyone else could examine them? What kind of sense does that make?”

“I already told you. Leo said these bikers tend to be sentimental, and—”

“There it is again. 'Leo says this, Leo says that.' He's got you so turned around that you can't even think for yourself.”

“Fine, so what's your big theory?” Benny asked defensively. “That they somehow staged it? That's completely ridiculous. It's impossible.”

“Earlier, you compared it to an action movie. Before that, you said it was like a Western. You think this stuff is impossible to do? You see it on TV every day. Fake bullets, fake blood.”

“I just don't see how they could make all of this happen.”

Gracie sighed impatiently. “Remember when we went to Vegas and saw that stage magician? His body stayed on stage while his head floated over the audience, singing? I may not know exactly how he did it, but I still know it was just a trick. Believe me, so is this.”

There was a moment of silence, and Stef thought her father might explode with rage. But when he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Why are you being like this? She likes the kid. You can see that.”

“Oh, I'll just bet she does.” There was something about how her mother said it that sent a chill down Stef's spine.

She does know, Stef thought. Somehow, she knows we had sex. Even if she didn't actually believe any of what she's saying, just knowing that I had sex with him—that he made me happy—would make her angry enough to try to derail it.

“So what's the problem?” Benny asked. “Aren't you happy that we don't have to marry her off to someone she doesn't even like?”

“You were prepared to do that anyway.”

“But now we don't have to!” Stef flinched at the unexpected volume of her father's voice. She heard him take a deep breath before continuing in a more subdued tone. “Minghia, you can still make me crazy, you know that? My instincts and my wisdom have built this family into what it is today. Mine, not yours. This is the best thing that's ever happened to us, and I'm not going to crumple it up and throw it in the trash just because my nagging wife suddenly decided she's got more street smarts than I do. I'm done arguing with you. We're paying out the ransom for Leo's father and we're going into business with him, and Stef's going to marry him, and that's that. I don't want to hear another word about it from you.”

Stef only had a moment to wonder what he meant about the ransom and Leo's father before she realized he was heading toward the door. She backed away quickly and scampered up the stairs to her room before he had a chance to see that she'd been eavesdropping.

A ransom, she thought as she closed the door behind her. So Leo's father must have been kidnapped by someone. No wonder he'd mentioned being distracted by it. Unless he hates his dad the way I hate mine—and I seriously doubt that anyone could loathe their parents as much as I do—Leo must be worried sick.

Presuming, of course, that her mother was wrong and Leo's whole story was true.

Stef sat on the edge of the bed, thinking it over. She had to admit that to a certain degree, everything her mother had said made sense. It was possible that Leo was not the person he claimed to be, and that he was trying to scam her father somehow.

But if that were true, would it make any difference?

For that matter, wouldn't it make Leo even more attractive to her?

Maybe he was an undercover FBI agent, trying to bring down the Altamura family. Maybe he was just some con artist, a wandering rogue who'd decided to take her father for everything he was worth. So what? After everything Benny had put her through, Stef had no problem with the idea of seeing him broke or in prison. Either way, he wouldn't be in a position to bully her and ruin her life anymore. She'd finally be free.

And the fierce attraction Stef had seen in Leo's eyes when he looked at her—that couldn't be faked, could it? Even if he wasn't who he said he was, even if he meant her father harm, it still seemed like he wanted her. The feelings he'd inspired in her were certainly real.

The more Stef considered this possibility, the more it excited her. She'd never wanted to marry a Mafioso anyway. She wanted to escape from people like her father. Whoever Leo really was, it seemed like he might be able to help her make that dream into a reality. He could take her away from all this, and they could celebrate her father's ruin together.

And then what? If he turned out to be a Fed, they could keep dating once he'd put her father away for life. If he was a con man, he could take her with him and they could scam people together.

Stef smiled. Even though Leo was probably exactly who he said he was, it was still a lovely fantasy to amuse herself with, and she couldn't wait to see him again. He might be a Mafia kid, but he was clearly a very different person from her father.

She put her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes, wondering what it would be like to live in Canada.

Chapter 15

Bax

Bax and Mule waited outside The Hurricane Club as a herd of tourists ambled by. The sweaty, colorfully-dressed out-of-towners were dancing and snapping their fingers as they followed a parade of jazz musicians. It was the middle of the day, but the familiar haze of alcohol and vomit already permeated the air, mixing with the fragrant steam of a hundred different crawfish boils.

Bax couldn't believe it had only been about a week since the first time they'd been to the club. He'd done his share of long cons before, but he generally preferred short cons. A quick search for the right mark, a flashy bit of theater to lure them in, a smooth but hasty exit, and boom—instant money for an afternoon's work, a fancy dinner to celebrate, and on to the next scam.

But long cons paid off at levels short cons never could, and if this one was played just right, the payoff could be enough to sustain him for years—maybe even indefinitely. In this case, patience and focus were essential.

Right. Focus.

So why did his mind keep grabbing him by the lapels and dragging him back to thoughts of Stef?

He shook his head, trying to clear it. He barely knew this girl, she was just another gear in the complex machinery of the con, and when it was over he'd never see her again. Just like dozens of other girls in dozens of other scores. No different at all.

Stef, his brain whispered. Not “the girl.” Stef.

Okay, fine, so her name was Stef. Stef, Stef, Stef. See? He could think her name if he wanted to. It didn't make her special. It didn't mean he felt anything for her. And it didn't make what happened between them any less of a mistake.

And it had been a mistake. A big one.

But why didn't it feel like one? Why did he keep reveling in the memories of her hands on his body, how soft her skin was, the smell of her hair? And those dark eyes, so full of wanting and needing, and all for him...

Stop it, he snapped. You saw a pretty girl and you fucked up, plain and simple. This isn't the first time it's happened, it probably won't be the last, and if you don't feel bad about it like you should, well, that's just because you're a selfish asshole like everyone says you are. The next time you see her, you'll just have to play it cool and keep your hands to yourself.

“You're quiet,” Mule remarked. His fat fingers were gripping the handle of a briefcase.

“You're one to talk,” Bax snapped. “Now pipe down. They should be almost here by now.”

A few minutes later, a vintage Italian sports car pulled up in front of the club. It was candy apple red, and its low stance and smooth lines made it look like a jungle cat pouncing forward. Benny Altamura stepped out from the driver's side, and Silvio emerged from the other side. Benny's face lit up with a smile when he saw Bax, and he ran over to him eagerly.

“There he is!” Benny laughed, throwing his arms around Bax and squeezing him hard. For someone so short and wiry, he seemed quite strong. “There's the kid himself. Stef's protector, her knight in designer armor. Thank you, thank you, thank you for saving her life, Leo. Thank you.”

Silvio walked over to Mule. “I hope you weren't expecting a similar greeting from me,” he sneered.

Mule shook his head.

“Hey, take it easy,” Bax chuckled, trying to extricate himself from Benny's firm embrace. “Like I said before, it's what anyone would have done. No need to thank me. That's one hell of a car you're driving around in, by the way.”

“Do you like it? That's a 1960 Ferrari GT Berlinetta Luso. When I proposed to Graziela, her father gave this to me. It's my second most treasured possession, after my daughter. I took it to my mechanic and told him to do everything he could to make sure it was in the same condition it was when it first left the factory. Even the paint job is new.” Benny jingled the keys merrily for a moment, then slapped them into Bax's palm. “And now, Leo, it belongs to you, for saving my most treasured possession. And I'll tell you the same thing my father-in-law told me: 'May it take you everywhere you want to go in life.'”

Bax stared at the keys, dumbfounded. “Don Altamura—”

“Benny, please. And don't tell me you can't accept it, because I insist. My entire life, I've waited to be able to present this to my own son-in-law someday. Finally, I have the chance.” Bax saw tears shining in Benny's eyes.

“Thank you for this gesture. I'm very humbled and grateful. But with all due respect, Benny, I wouldn't want you to bestow such a gift prematurely. There's no guarantee Stef and I are going to be married. I mean, we've only had one date so far, and I think you'll agree it was somewhat catastrophic.”

“Ah, but the next one won't be,” Benny said happily. “I have an instinct for these things, and I can feel it. All of this—you showing up with this deal just when my daughter needed a husband, and being there to protect her right when she needed you the most—it's destiny, Leo. I know it in my heart. Everything that's happened, even this unfortunate business with your father overseas, has happened for a purpose...to bring you into our lives. I thank God for that, and for you.” To Bax's surprise, Benny kissed him on both cheeks tenderly.

“I'm very touched, Benny. Truly. But what about Stef? Shouldn't she have a say in this too?”

“Oh, she's completely smitten with you! You should have heard the way she's been singing your praises for the past two days. She can't wait to see you again. When you ask for her hand in marriage, I know she'll say yes.”

“But Benny, even so...”

Benny put his small hands on either side of Bax's face, looking into his eyes earnestly. “Listen, I understand. You're a good son, and you're worried about your father. It feels wrong to make plans for your happiness while he's in the hands of those savages. I admire that about you. So we'll make the necessary arrangements for his release, and we won't discuss marriage again until he's free. By then, hopefully, we can celebrate with a wedding announcement.” He planted another kiss on Bax, this time on his forehead. “And he will be free, whatever it costs, whatever it takes. I promise you that, and I never break my promises. Now let's go inside and get this boring business over with, shall we?”

Before Bax could answer, Benny walked toward the entrance of the club, followed by Silvio. Bax looked at the keys in his hand for a moment, then stuffed them into his pocket and followed. Mule lumbered along behind him.

As they made their way through the crowd of patrons, a rat-faced man with long, stringy, unwashed hair tapped Benny on the shoulder. He wore a Hawaiian shirt, frayed cargo shorts, and sandals. His fingertips were stained yellow and brown from nicotine, and his feet were almost black with dirt.

“Don Altamura, I was hoping to find you here.” When he spoke, he revealed a mouthful of rotting blue teeth. His breath smelled like fish rotting in high heat, and Bax's eyes started to water.

“Not now, Richard,” Benny said, turning his face away with a look of disgust.

“But you haven't put in the, uh, order for next month,” Richard insisted. “I tried to call you a couple times this week, but I never heard back. I just want to make sure that you get the, um, product you need on time, without any hassles.”

“When the Don needs you, he'll reach out to you,” Silvio rasped, yanking Richard out of Benny's face and shoving him away. “Until then, you stay out of his face, or you'll have me in yours. Now fuck off.”

Richard took one last, forlorn look at Benny before staggering away, his lower lip quivering.

“Who was that sad sack?” Bax asked.

“Richard Gaskin,” Benny replied. “He's the one who's been supplying us with heroin for the past few years. But he's a small-timer, a nobody, and his product has been stepped on more times than a gas pedal. Once this deal between our families goes through, we won't need to do business with that ignorant swamp rat anymore.”

Bax nodded as they walked to the door at the back of the room. He'd intended to learn the name of the person who sold Benny his heroin anyway, so this chance encounter was a stroke of good luck.

Silvio unlocked the door and they descended the stairs to the casino below. This time, it was empty. Benny gestured to the table in the corner where they'd spoken last time, and they all sat down.

“You have the stuff?” Benny asked.

Bax turned to Mule, who set the briefcase on the table and opened it. He removed a small brick of powder wrapped in plastic, placing it in front of them.

Silvio produced a switchblade and a small vial of opaque liquid. He cut into the brick, using the tip of the knife to gingerly lift out a bump of the powder. Then he unscrewed the cap of the vial and dropped the powder into it, swirling it around. After a few seconds, the liquid turned bright orange.

Benny laughed, clapping his hands together. “Excellent! That's at least ten times more pure than the garbage we've been selling. We could cut this four, five times, and it would still be some of the most potent stuff around.”

Bax smiled. “As advertised.”

“Well, then I'd say it's my turn, wouldn't you?” Benny reached under the table and came up with a large black valise, handing it over to Bax.

Bax opened the bag and looked down at the crisp bundles of hundred-dollar bills. There were far more than he expected, and the sight almost made him light-headed. After a lifetime of scores where the payoffs were handfuls of crumpled bills or hastily-scrawled bank account numbers on cocktail napkins, seeing this much money in one place was surreal, like seeing a unicorn stroll down Basin Street.

“Five million dollars. The entire ransom amount. You should save your half. Spend it on your honeymoon, maybe.” Benny winked playfully.

“Benny...you're a very generous man, but this is really too much...”

Benny shushed him. “I told you I'd do whatever it took to free your father, and I meant it.”

Bax nodded, still gaping at the bag full of money. “Thank you. I'll contact the rebels in Myanmar and arrange the trade-off immediately.”

“Good.” Benny slapped the table briskly and stood up. The others followed suit. “When you've made the arrangements, let me know and I'll choose some of my best men to act as bodyguards during your next trip to the fields.” He turned to Silvio with a grin. “How about it? Do you feel like taking a little jungle vacation?”

Silvio shook his head. “Louisiana's enough of a jungle for me already, thank you.”

“So now that we've got business out of the way,” Benny continued, “when would you like to take Stef out again? Tonight? Tomorrow? Name the day, and I'll make reservations at the best place in the city.”

“How about three days from now?” Bax asked. “That should give me some time to make my calls to Myanmar and straighten things out.” He felt a nervous twinge in his stomach. What if Stef wanted him again? Mule would be watching him, so he'd have to say no. The thought of that made him uncomfortable.

“Good,” Benny said, shaking Bax's hand. “I'll give you a call tomorrow with the time and place. I promise, it'll be the most romantic night of your life.”

But what if I've already had the most romantic night of my life? Bax thought.

Chapter 16

Bax

Bax gave the ten-beat secret knock, and Skull opened the door to the warehouse. Mule had his usual blank expression, while Bax did his best to look dejected as they walked in. Harry, Millie, Tommy, David, and all the Voodoo Devils stood frozen like figures in a tapestry, trying to decipher the look on Bax's face and his body language.

“Well? Did it work?” Skull asked. “Did you get the 2.5 mil?”

Bax sighed. “No, I'm afraid not.” He opened the valise, tossing it onto the floor so they could see the contents. “I got five.”

Skull's eyebrows jumped halfway up his head. “What? Five?”

A slow smile spread across Bax's lips as he nodded. “Five. Million. Dollars.”

The room erupted into cheers and applause. Even Millie smiled, pumping her fist in the air triumphantly.

Skull gave Bax a bear hug, lifting him up. “You're a genius! You're a goddamn motherfucking genius! Five million! You took that asswipe for five million fucking dollars!”

“Take it easy,” Bax wheezed. “I can't breathe!”

Skull put him down, then started jumping up and down in the air. “Holy shit, I can't believe we got away with it!”

“I gotta hand it to you, Baxie,” Harry said, shaking his hand. “Rocky start, but a hell of a finish.”

“So how are we splitting up the loot?” Tommy asked. “I don't know how you were thinking of dividing it up, but I figure I should get at least a million for making the introduction...”

“Actually, if you count it as a seven-way split with Skull representing the Devils as a whole, we should each end up with just under eight hundred and thirty-four thousand dollars,” Millie pointed out.

“Nobody likes a math geek, lady,” Tommy said with a grin.

“I wouldn't go calculating individual shares just yet.” Bax picked up the valise again, closing it. “We're just getting started.”

The celebratory sounds died down. Skull frowned. “What are you talking about? We won. We got the money. It's over.”

Bax smirked. “You guys don't know much about much out here in the bayou, do you? I keep telling you, this is the Spanish Prisoner con. This was just Phase One.”

“I don't like the sound of that,” Tommy said uneasily.

“You should,” Bax countered. “Didn't I promise you more money than you'd ever seen in your life? 'Fuck you' money? 'Spend the rest of your life spending' money? Do you really think eight hundred grand is enough for all that? Come on.” He turned to Skull. “And you. Sure, you got your money back four times over. But is that really enough after the way Altamura humiliated you? Don't you want to make him bleed?”

“I ain't worried about making him bleed,” Skull said. “I'm worried about how he's gonna make us bleed if we don't quit while we're ahead.”

“Yeah, pushing our luck is a bullshit move,” Tommy chimed in. “I've run enough casinos to know that this is that moment everyone has after they've hit the jackpot. The smart ones take the money and run. Only the losers keep standing there until they've fed every coin back into the machine and they're left with nothing.”

“I think I'm with them,” said David. “These aren't random rubes we're ripping off, here. This is the mob. By the time they realize they've been scammed, we should all be long gone or there'll be hell to pay.”

“Well, by that rationale, it won't matter how far any of us run,” Bax insisted. “They'll still be powerful and influential enough to catch up with us. Our only shot at escaping in one piece is making sure that by the time we're done with Altamura, he's a joke among his fellow gangsters and his entire operation is crippled beyond repair.”

The others looked at each other uncertainly.

“Look, I know you're scared,” Bax continued. “I know you think it's time to get while the getting is good, but you have to think it through. We can either break Altamura completely, or we can all spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders. I don't know about the rest of you, but I doubt I'll get much enjoyment from the money if I'm checking under my bed for hitmen four or five times a night.”

Millie stepped forward. “I hate to admit it, but Bax is right. When dealing with something as potentially volatile as this, the only smart move is to stabilize it completely before turning your back on it. No risks, no half-measures, or you're just begging for the whole thing to explode.”

Skull thought this over for a minute, then nodded slowly. “Okay. You've got a point, even if I'm getting a little tired of being surprised by you. So what's the next step?”

Bax smiled. “I knew you'd see reason. The next step is actually a two-pronged approach. First, I've got another date with Stef set up for three days from now.” Everyone in the room began to protest at once, but Bax waved them down. “Relax, okay? Nothing's going to happen. I'm just keeping things smooth and staying in the picture so I can keep Altamura happy.”

“And what's the other part of it?” Skull asked.

Bax put an arm around Skull's shoulder. “Tell me, have you ever heard of a dirtbag named Richard Gaskin?

Chapter 17

Stef

Stef checked her reflection for the fifth time in the mirrored wall of the Lafitte Lounge as she waited for Leo to arrive. Silvio sat in the corner, watching her closely.

Her mother had tried to apply Stef's makeup and choose her outfit for the evening as she usually did before Stef's arranged dates, but this time, Stef refused and stood her ground. To Stef, this second date with Leo was even more special that the first. Now that they were both aware of the intense passion that burned between them, there'd be no need for small talk or pretense. They could bask in each other's presence completely, holding hands and embracing and kissing as they pleased. It was important to Stef that for such a magical night, her makeup and clothing represented her, not her mother. It would make things more personal between her and Leo, more intimate.

Gracie had protested for twenty minutes, but finally, she threw her hands up in frustration and stalked off. When Stef emerged from her room almost an hour later, her mother raised her eyebrows in surprise and admitted that Stef had managed to look beautiful all on her own. It was one of the nicest things Gracie had ever said to Stef, and she had to stop herself from crying so her eye makeup wouldn't run.

Beautiful. Stef couldn't remember the last time she'd heard anything from Gracie that wasn't harsh criticism, but today—when her heart was already singing with anticipation—her mother had actually called her beautiful.

Excitement tickled Stef's stomach like rows of marching ants as she inspected her makeup in the mirror, then spun around slowly, watching the pleated hem of her dress twirl. How would Leo arrange for them to be together after dinner, despite their respective bodyguards? Stef didn't know, but she was sure he'd find a way. He was so brilliant and charming, she was sure he could get away with anything if he tried.

And then their bodies would be entwined again, and he'd be inside of her, and all would be right with the world.

When the menu comes, I'm going to order anything I want, Stef decided firmly. I'll start with an appetizer—some kind of crab dip with thick, rich, gooey melted cheese—and some hunks of crusty garlic bread to slather it on. And then maybe a big Caesar salad with lots of parmesan and dressing. No, forget the salad...I'll go straight to the entree, something fried and spicy that'll make me feel like I want to burst by the time I'm done. And dessert! Something with dark chocolate and a mountain of whipped cream on top. Let Silvio tell my mother whatever he wants. I'll already have eaten, and it'll be too late for her to do anything about it. Tonight is my night, and no one can take it away from me.

Her stomach growled encouragingly.

Leo walked in with Max behind him, and the jitters in Stef's belly went into overdrive. Leo waved at Silvio and walked over to Stef with a big smile.

“Sorry if I'm late,” Leo said.

“If you are, you're worth it.” Stef wrapped her arms around Leo and planted a long kiss on his lips. He seemed taken aback at first, then relaxed into it slowly, his hands caressing her back.

“You look amazing,” Leo murmured.

Stef leaned forward to nibble on Leo's earlobe playfully. “You'd better be able to find a way for us to be alone together later,” she whispered. “I can't wait.”

Leo pulled away from her, and she saw that his eyes were full of concern and regret. “Yeah, um...about that.” He turned to Max. “Can you give us a moment alone, please?”

Max scowled at him.

“You can watch us from across the room, okay?” Leo sighed angrily. “Look, there's Silvio. Go see if he knows any good jokes or something.”

Max rolled his eyes and loped over to where Silvio was sitting.

Stef looked at Leo as the first hints of worry crept into her mind. “What's wrong?”

“Look, what happened between us at the end of the last date...that can't happen again, Stef. It never should have happened to begin with. It was disrespectful to you—”

“No it wasn't!” she protested. “I had a wonderful time. I thought you did, too. I thought it was special for both of us.”

“Sure it was. And I did have a wonderful time, honest.”

Stef frowned. Her heart felt like it was plunging down a cold, dark, bottomless well. “'I did have a wonderful time, honest.' Wow. That sure sounds convincing.”

“It was a mistake. On some level, you have to realize that. I mean, it was our first date, for Christ's sake. All I'm saying is, let's take a deep breath, relax, enjoy a nice dinner together, and take things a little more slowly.”

“I don't think it was a mistake.” Stef felt her face getting flushed, and her voice was starting to tremble. “I don't understand. Was I...that bad?”

“No, you were incredible. I had a terrific time. This isn't about that.”

“Do you not respect me anymore because I did that on the first date? Do you think I'm some kind of slut or something?”

“It was disrespectful to your father, okay?” Leo snapped. “He trusted me to take you out on a date, and I abused that trust. If he found out, he'd be pretty pissed about it. And even if he never finds out, that still doesn't mean it was the right thing to do. He and I are going to be in business together, and I don't want it to start off like this. He's an honorable man, and I need to show him that I'm one, too.”

Stef blinked back tears. “This is because of my father? You're so afraid of upsetting him and ruining your business together that you'll just toss me aside?”

“No one's tossing anyone aside. Just relax, okay?”

“No, I won't relax.” Stef sniffled as she felt the first hot tears traveling down her cheeks. Some of the other patrons were starting to stare at her, but she didn't care. “I thought you were different. I thought you really cared about me instead of sucking up to my father and trying to marry your way into his family. But you're just like all the others, aren't you? A slick, spoiled, greedy bastard who'll say and do anything to get my father's approval.”

“This isn't like that,” Leo protested.

“Of course it is,” Stef shot back, grabbing a napkin from a nearby table and dabbing at her eyes. “I should know. I've certainly seen it enough times.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Let's just go over to our table and talk this out...”

“Why? Are you upset about jeopardizing your big payday? Don't worry, my father will marry me off to you whether I like you or not. So go on, make your important deals with him and keep kissing his butt. I guess I'll see you on our wedding day.” She pushed past Leo, storming out of the restaurant.

Once she made it outside, she collapsed against the wall of the building, sobbing uncontrollably. Just a few minutes ago, she'd been eagerly awaiting the happiest night of her life. Now she wished she were dead.

“Miss Stefania? Are you all right?” Silvio was next to her, staring at her with his crab-like eyes and holding out a handkerchief.

But Stef felt like she'd never be all right again.

Chapter 18

Skull

The muddy stream in the bayou came up to Skull's knees as he trudged through it carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible. Ash, Bumper, and Panda walked behind him in a line, dutifully matching his pace like a trio of ducklings behind their mother.

Instead of their usual biker duds, the Devils were wearing black commando gear, paintball masks molded to look like leering skulls, and plastic body armor they'd bought from a costume shop a few towns away. It wouldn't stop any bullets, but it still achieved the desired effect.

They looked frightening as hell.

And unlike the armor, the AK-47 assault rifles they carried—and the bullets in their magazines—were very real.

“What's the point of all this crap?” Panda had asked as Skull gave the clerk at the costume shop a wad of cash. “It ain't like we're goin' up against real hardasses or anythin'. It's just Gaskin an' those inbred cousins of his.”

“First of all, we can't have them knowing who we are, or even that we're bikers,” Skull explained. “Putting aside the fact that half of us are supposed to be dead and the other half are supposed to be gone, Gaskin's dealt with the Devils and other MCs lots of times. That won't scare him off. If he thinks we're an X-factor he's never encountered before—like some super-commando squad from God knows where—then he'll be a lot less likely to give us any pushback. Besides, Richie Gaskin's a fleabag piece of shit and I've never liked him, so this is gonna be a lot of fun. By the time we're finished with him, he'll feel like the Grim Reaper stuck a finger up his ass and twisted it.”

It had been almost a week since Bax's second date with Stef. During that time, Bax had talked on the phone with Altamura a handful of times—first to say he'd wired the money to the rebels in Myanmar, and then to tell him that no, he hadn't received any word back from them yet. Skull wasn't known for his patience, so sitting tight for so long hadn't made him too happy. But Bax had assured him that this next step in the plan relied on perfect timing.

And now that it was finally time for him to act, Skull had to admit that he was having a hell of a lot of fun.

As the four Devils made their way through the mangroves and tall grasses, Skull pushed aside a curtain of peat moss. He knew it was childish, but in his mind, he kept pretending he was Martin Sheen in “Apocalypse Now”—stalking through the steamy jungles of Vietnam with his finger on the trigger and murder in his eyes, delivering grim inner monologues about the beauty and horror of war. It had been his favorite movie since he and Bax had cut class in the fifth grade to rent it.

“I wanted a mission,” he murmured under his breath in a gravelly voice. “And for my sins, they gave me one.”

“What?” Panda whispered.

Skull smiled under his mask. “Nothing. We're almost there. Remember, when we bust in, let me do the talking.” Unlike the others, Skull had also opted for a cheaply-made voice changer from the costume shop, which he'd tucked into his mask. 

A dilapidated tar paper shack stood a short distance ahead of them with battery-powered lamps in the windows. Skull motioned for the others to remain silent and follow him. Then he crouched down and continued his approach.

Once they were close enough, Skull peered into one of the windows.

Richie Gaskin stood in the shack with his cousins, Marty and Cootie Graw. Marty was in his late twenties, with watery blue eyes and scraggly blonde-white hair that looked like dirty corn silk. He wore a patched, stained pair of overalls. Cootie was a bald, squat, troll-like man in his mid-thirties, with thick black hair on his arms and warts all over his face. He sported a filthy yellow t-shirt that said “Time To Rub One Out,” and a pair of cutoff denims that were so short his scrotum was almost visible.

The three men were ladling heaping amounts of white powder into styrofoam bowls of heroin and stirring them around sloppily, as a Country/Western station played between bursts of static on a battered radio in the corner.

“Didn't this asshole have three cousins?” Panda whispered. “Or was it just the two?”

“Pretty sure it was just these two,” Skull answered, re-adjusting the weight of the rifle in his arms. AKs were sturdy and reliable, but man, were they heavy.

“I ran out of baking soda,” Marty announced with a belch.

“So use some of the detergent or rat poison to cut with.” Cootie paused in his work to scratch his balls and sniff his fingertips. “An' let's hurry it up, okay? I gotta take a shit the size of a wedding cake.”

“I told you before, just go an' do it outside,” Richie said. “You ain't gotta hold it in. We got plenty of toilet paper.”

“An' I told you before, I ain't shittin' in no swamp. Had me a girlfriend who tried to do that once. She squatted down, an' the next thing she knew, she had a mud snake hangin' from her pussy by its teeth. You shoulda seen her come runnin' outta the bayou screamin', with that thing swingin' between her legs like a big black dick!”

The men in the shack guffawed loudly.

“I dunno why we're out here fuckin' around with this shit anyhow,” Marty pointed out. “You still ain't heard nothin' from Altamura, have you, Richie? For all we know, he's found some other source.”

“He'll call,” Richie insisted. “If there was someone new slingin' this shit around here, I'd have heard about it. Naw, he's just playin' it up like he's some kind of big man so's he can watch me sweat about it. Them wops an' their bullshit power trips, man. They think us good ol' boys are nothin' but a bunch've dumb pig-fuckers can be pushed around.”

That sure is what it looks like from here, Skull thought.

Skull looked around to make sure the other Devils were in position. Then he unclipped a stun grenade from his belt, yanked the pin, and tossed it through a window.

“What the—?!” There was a scramble of confusion inside, and a second later, the grenade went off with a blinding white flash and a thunderous bang.

Skull kicked down the door of the shack and burst in, followed by the other Devils. Richie and the Graw brothers were sprawled on the floor, blinking up at them and moaning in pain.

“Richard Gaskin. Marty Graw. Cootie Graw.” Skull pronounced their names like a judge handing down a death sentence. With the voice changer set to its lowest setting, he sounded like Darth Vader.

He had never felt cooler in his life.

“Your sins have caught up with you at last,” Skull intoned.

“You want the H?” Richie asked, his voice quivering. “Take it! It's yours!”

“You think you can bribe me with your cheap poison?” Skull picked up one of the bowls of powder, flinging it at Richie and crumpling the styrofoam into a ball. The heroin caked Richie's face and he coughed.

“I am your Fate, Richard Gaskin. I am your Angel of Death. There is no bargain. There is no escape. There is only penance.” He pointed a finger at Richie dramatically.

Richie dragged himself to his knees. He brushed the powder from his face, gagging and retching. Then he laced his fingers together like a man about to pray, looking up at Skull pleadingly.

“Please...I'm so sorry...I never meant to hurt no one...my daddy left when I was two an' I got led astray, you gotta know that...but I will be good, I promise, I'll do whatever you want, whatever it takes, just don't drag me down to hell, Mister Skull Face, please...”

Suddenly, there was a deafening mechanical roar just outside the door, followed by a yowl of pain from Ash.

Skull turned in time to see a hulking figure in a tattered cloak that looked like it had been stitched together from varmint pelts. His face was broad and lumpy, and one of his eye sockets was sunken and empty. His snarl revealed a mouthful of broken teeth that looked like crooked fangs.

He brandished a large chainsaw.

Ash was still yelling and clutching at the small of his back as dime-sized drops of blood hit the floor.

“Kill 'em, Chainsaw!” Richie hollered over the sound of the machine. “Kill 'em all!”

Chainsaw stepped forward into the room, swinging his weapon and mewling incoherently. Panda and Ash were already backing away from him, but Bumper appeared to be frozen in mute horror.

“Get down,” Skull commanded, raising his rifle.

Bumper didn't move.

Ash and Panda lunged at Bumper, tackling him to the ground. Chainsaw raised the saw, preparing to bring it down on one or all of them as he cackled madly.

Skull took advantage of his clear shot, firing a burst from his AK directly into Chainsaw's chest.

The brute looked down at the bleeding holes in his body, the saw still raised above his head. Then he let out a shriek and turned, fleeing into the swamp again. The sputtering roar of the chainsaw followed him until it faded in the distance.

As Bumper and Panda silently inspected the wound on Ash's back, Skull turned and advanced on Richie and his cousins menacingly. Their butts skidded across the floor until all three of them were backed up against the wall in a row.

Skull's blood was up and he badly wanted to pump these dickheads full of bullets, but that wasn't the mission he'd been sent on. Bax had said it was important that they just disappeared without a trace, so Skull couldn't risk leaving evidence that they'd been killed instead.

“I shoulda warned you,” Richie sobbed. “I forgot he was out there, okay? I just forgot!”

Skull slammed the butt of his rifle into Richie's torso savagely. Richie screamed, and Skull heard several of his ribs snap.

“If you want to live, here's something you shouldn't forget,” Skull growled. “Louisiana is off-limits to you and the rest of your demented family. Find someplace else to be a drug-peddling redneck. We'll be watching for you, and if you ever come back to this state again—even if you're just passing through—we'll know, and we'll make sure you're the one who dies with a chainsaw in his guts. Do you understand?”

“Y-Y-Yes,” Richie stammered.

“Good. Now go.”

Richie pulled himself to his feet, clutching his busted ribs and hissing in pain. Marty and Cootie got up as well, breathing hard, their eyes bugging out of their heads. For a moment, they stood, staring at Skull and the other Devils.

Skull pointed his rifle at the ceiling and fired off another burst. “Now!”

The three men pelted toward the door as fast as they could, running off into the bayou. Skull looked down and saw trails of urine on the floor, marking their paths.

“How bad is it?” Skull asked Ash, pulling his mask off. The others took theirs off too.

“Could've been a lot worse,” Ash said, wincing. “This plastic armor may be cheap, but it still kept the saw from going in as deep as it could. A few stitches, an' I should be okay. Thank God he missed the spine, though.”

“Jesus, that was some fucked-up, horror movie shit!” Panda turned to Bumper, who was pale and shaking. “Where the hell were you, anyway, huh? What happened?”

“I, uh...just wasn't expecting a dude with a chainsaw, is all,” Bumper said, licking his lips nervously. “I got kind of a thing about chainsaws. Do you think he's dead?”

“He took at least five rounds in the chest before he ran off,” Skull answered. “If that didn't kill him, there's about twelve different infections he'll get from the swamp that should do the trick. And we know for damn sure that the other three ain't gonna be a problem anymore.”

Okay, Bax, Skull thought. Mission accomplished. What do you have up your sleeve next?

Chapter 19

Stef

Stef had been watching her father pace around their house for almost a week. She'd never seen him so nervous before—muttering to himself, wringing his hands, jumping every time the phone rang. Even when she was lying in bed at night, she could still hear his footsteps traveling from floor to floor, room to room. He'd always taken tremendous pride in his appearance, but now he was forgetting to bathe or comb his hair for days at a time, and his expensive outfits always looked rumpled.

She knew that whatever he was waiting for had something to do with Leo. She'd even heard him call Leo several times, but after each brief conversation, he continued to roam the house nervously.

When Silvio told Stef's father that her second date with Leo had ended before it began, Benny interrogated her mercilessly. She couldn't tell him that the real reason was because he'd refused to have sex with her again, so she stubbornly kept her mouth shut and her arms folded as he harangued her.

“I thought you said you liked him better than the others,” Benny yelled.

“Well, I was wrong! He's no different, and I don't like him anymore.”

Benny let out a frustrated roar, slamming his fist down on his desk. “Goddamn it, why couldn't I have had a son? Girls are so fickle. One minute they love some boy, and the next minute they hate him, and they can't even tell you why. It's enough to drive a man insane.”

“I'm not going to see him again.”

“Yes, you are,” Benny seethed. “You're going to have another date with him, and another, and you're going to smile and laugh and behave yourself on all of them. You know why? Because as quickly as your mind changed about Leo, it could change back just as quickly. And I won't let you ruin this chance for yourself just because you can't make up your mind about what you want.”

And Stef had stormed out of his office, and he'd slammed the door behind her, and she'd stomped up the stairs to her room and slammed her own door in response. It had become a familiar pattern.

Now Stef could hear the phone ringing, and her father scrambling to answer it. “Hello?”

Stef got up from her bed and opened her door, sticking her head out to listen. Was this the call he'd been waiting for?

From the short-tempered, disappointed tone in his voice, she guessed it wasn't.

“What do you mean, 'disappeared'? Did you check that cabin he's got out in the swamp?...Well, what about those fucking cousins of his? Marty and Cootie and that retard, what's-his-name, 'Bonesaw.'...Don't tell me that! Nothing 'vanishes without a trace!' Were there any signs they'd been bumped off? Any blood, or...'A couple of drops?' That tells me nothing! You're telling me nothing! Now find out what the hell happened to them, and fast. They were our only source for the shit. Hopefully, with this other deal I've got going, it won't matter—but still, we'd better find out what happened, just to be on the safe side.”

He slammed the phone down, and Stef heard him let out a frustrated sigh.

Stef couldn't believe how Benny was coming unraveled by this situation with Leo, whatever it was. He never used to speak unless it was in an even and rational tone, and he'd almost never used foul language. But now...

Good, Stef thought with a twinge of cruel satisfaction. Whatever's going on, maybe it'll give him ulcers and he'll die from them.

Still, she was sick to her stomach from all of it. Sick of the gangsters and the shady deals and the killings and the secrecy and the careful double-speak from fear of wiretapping. Sick of the whole wretched thing.

There was a knock at the front door, and Stef heard her father run to it, flinging it open. “Silvio! What is it?”

“Leo reached out, Don Altamura. He said he'd like to speak with you. It seemed fairly urgent.”

“Why? What's going on?”

“I don't know, sir. But whatever it is, he sounds quite unhappy about it.”

Chapter 20

Bax

Bax sat in one of the plush chairs in his hotel room as he practiced his most disapproving look. He felt like he had the expression itself down—stony, with a furrowed brow and a judgmental glint in the eyes. But he was having trouble deciding on the rest of his pose.

Both feet planted, both arms down on the armrests? No, it was too open, and it reminded him of the Lincoln Memorial.

Legs crossed wide, fingers steepled together in front of him? That felt better, but it still seemed forced somehow, like something a Bond villain would do.

Legs crossed at the knee, arms half-crossed with his chin in his hand? Pretentious. He was trying to intimidate a mob boss, not pose for an author photo.

Legs together, arms folded tight against his chest? What, was he a toddler refusing to eat or something? No.

“Have you figured out which pose is sexiest yet?” Tommy asked from his seat in the corner. “I mean, I knew you were vain, but Jesus Christ, enough with the primping and bullshit.”

“It's important to get it just right,” Bax replied. “Just stay quiet and remember your part.”

“Yeah, yeah, it ain't complicated,” Tommy sighed.

Just as Bax was considering standing behind the chair with his hands clamped on its back—bold, adversarial, like a caged tiger who might escape and pounce—there was a knock at the door. Bax quickly decided to go with the Lincoln pose after all, and motioned for Mule to answer the door.

When Bax saw Benny walk in with Silvio behind him, he felt a spasm of sadistic glee. Clearly, the pressure and anticipation were making Benny fall apart. His tie was askew, his suit was unevenly buttoned, his hair resembled a white bird's nest, and he was missing a cuff link. His shoes were scuffed, and it looked like he hadn't shaved in days. He'd allowed his manicure to lapse, and his fingernails had been chewed ragged.

Best of all, the crooked, frantic smile on his face was that of a dog who'd been beaten and still acted happy to see its master.

I own you, cocksucker, Bax thought as he remained in his seat and let Benny walk over to him.

It was why he'd made a point of not arranging another meeting at The Hurricane Club. This time, Benny would come to him. This time, it would be extremely obvious to both of them who had the upper hand and who didn't.

“Max, Tommy, Leo, it's such a pleasure to see you again,” Benny said, grabbing Bax's hand and shaking it. Bax let him do this, but didn't return the handshake, allowing his arm to flop up and down until Benny released it. This clearly upset Benny even more, and his anxious smile widened. “Are you enjoying the car? It's lovely, isn't it?”

“I didn't ask you here to talk about the car, Benny.” Bax kept his tone curt and impatient, as though Benny was supposed to already know why he'd been summoned.

“Hey, Leo, chill out, okay?” Tommy said uneasily. “Don Altamura is a reasonable man. There's no reason we can't all be civil about this...”

Bax shot Tommy a venomous look, and Tommy immediately shut his mouth.

“Is this about Stef? I swear, I don't know what gets into that girl's head, truly. But whatever it is, I'm sure she'll get over it. She'll still marry you if I tell her to. Nothing's changed on that score, I assure you.” Benny actually licked his lips and let out a nervous laugh.

“I'm going to ask you one question,” Bax said coolly. “And I need to know if you can give me an honest answer.”

Benny spread his arms helplessly. “Leo, why would you ask me that? I'm hurt. You know my reputation, you know I'm an honorable man—”

“Can you give me a straight answer?” Bax asked through clenched teeth, punctuating each word with a period. “Yes or no.”

Benny swallowed hard. “Yes, Leo. You have to know I'd never lie to you.”

“Good. Now: Did you tell anyone about my father's situation? Anyone at all?”

“No!” Benny exclaimed immediately. “Of course not.”

“Don't lie to me, Benny. Come clean now, before it's too late.”

Silvio bristled. “Don Altamura already told you he hasn't said anything to anyone. That should be enough for you.”

Benny put up a hand to silence him. “Silvio, please. This doesn't concern you.” He looked at Bax imploringly. “Leo, I swear on my life—on my daughter's life—I haven't told a soul about your father. You, me, Tommy, and Silvio are the only ones who know what's going on. And Max, I guess, but it's not like he could tell anyone. Please, won't you tell me what's happened? Whatever it is, I promise, I'll do anything I can to help.”

“I wired the ransom money to the kidnappers last week.” Bax tried to sound like he could barely keep his anger in check. “Today, I got a call from them. They found out who my father really is, and they told me the ransom has now tripled. They want another ten million for his release. So I'm going to ask you one more time, Benny, and I want you to look me in the eyes when you answer. Did you or did you not tell someone about this?”

Benny looked directly into Bax's eyes. “No. I didn't tell anyone. And I can assure you, Silvio didn't either.”

Bax made a show of thinking this over for a moment. Finally, he said, “I believe you.”

Then he pulled a silenced handgun from his shoulder holster and fired three shots into Tommy's chest. Benny gasped, and Silvio flinched, his hand going for his own gun.

Tommy looked down at the bloody holes the exploding squibs had left in the front of his shirt. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, and he slumped over to one side, pretending to be dead.

“If it wasn't you or Silvio, then it had to be Tommy,” Bax said, tucking his gun back into its holster. “I always suspected that weasel was in it for himself. This proves it.”

Silvio hesitated, then put his pistol away warily.

Benny took a few deep breaths, trying to get himself under control. “Right. It had to be him. Of course. And now that he's out of the picture, I hope you'll allow me to use my resources to dispose of the body for you.”

Bax shook his head. “No, thank you. I suspected that it would come to this, and I've already made arrangements. But as a gesture of good faith, I want you to honor your pledge to me that you'd do anything to see my father released.” He peered at Benny through the wisps of gun smoke drifting through the room. “Do we understand each other?”

“Absolutely.” Benny took a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing his forehead with it. “I'll have to move some things around, but I should be able to get the ten million for you in three days. Okay?”

Bax nodded serenely. “Fine. Now leave, please. I have a lot on my mind.”

“Of course.” Benny started toward the door. Silvio followed, still frowning at Tommy's limp body. “And if there's anything else I can do for you, please, let me know. Whatever it is, I'm here to help. Okay, Leo?”

Bax didn't answer.

He waited until the door had shut behind Benny and Silvio and he heard them get on the elevator down the hall. Then he threw his head back and laughed. “Wow, did you guys see the expression on Benny's face? He looked like he was about to get smacked in the nose with a rolled-up newspaper! Ha!”

Mule nodded, grinning.

“Glad you're having a good fucking time,” Tommy groaned, straightening up and gingerly inspecting his chest. “Even with the extra layers on, these things hurt like a son of a bitch when they go off. Christ, I think one of them blew off a damn nipple.”

“When we're done, you can buy yourself two extra nipples and a couple of tits to put them on,” Bax said. “Now buck up. We've just got a few more moves to make, and then comes the big payday.”

Chapter 21

Bax

Three days later, Bax sat on the bed in the hotel room, drinking the tiny bottles of liquor from the mini-bar. He looked down at the stacks of bills that had been fanned out across the blanket. In the corner, Mule was slumped over in a chair, snoring heavily. It was almost midnight.

Oh, the hand-off had gone smoothly, all right. Benny showed up with Silvio, still apologizing and insisting on his own innocence as he gave Bax the valise with the ten million dollars in it. He'd invited Bax to count it to make sure everything was there, but Bax imperiously stated that he was sure it was—with the vaguest hint of a threat in his voice—and dismissed Benny, saying he'd be in touch within the week about his father's release.

And now here it all was. Ten million dollars—and if the five million had been more money than Bax had ever seen before, then ten looked like someone else's dream coming true before his eyes. He had to reach out and touch it just to confirm that it was real.

Combined with the previous payoff, it was fifteen million. Split seven ways, that was over two million dollars per involved party. The biggest score of Bax's life and it was his, free and clear.

They'd pushed their luck, and it had paid off. Benny would have had to liquidate most of his personal cash reserve to pay this off, as well as about a third of his mob businesses. Between that and the sudden loss of his only heroin connection, he wouldn't be in much of a position to retaliate once he realized he'd been conned.

Now it was time for the loot to be divided and for Bax to split, laughing all the way.

So why didn't he feel happy about any of it?

He wished the answer were elusive, but unfortunately, he knew exactly what it was and he loathed himself for it.

It was Stef.

He couldn't get her out of his mind. He hated the fact that the last time he'd seen her, he'd made her cry. He couldn't bear the thought that every mile he put between himself and New Orleans was also a mile he put between himself and her.

So what? his brain sneered at him. You've left behind a hundred crying girls in a hundred other towns, and you were always mighty sure they'd get over it. Why not? You always did, right? You can break some other girl's heart in the next town, and the next. Isn't that part of the adventure?

It always had been before, but this time, it felt different. Part of it was the way Stef had smiled at him during the end of their first date—the happiness and trust and wanting he'd seen sparkling in her eyes, and all of it just for him. Based on his previous sexual encounters, Bax had come to believe that less-experienced partners generally weren't much fun. Too much fumbling and hesitation and uncertainty.

But with Stef, it had been different. She'd welcomed him into her and embraced him completely with a fierceness he'd never known before, as though she'd been waiting for him her whole life.

Or maybe he'd been waiting for her?

Deep down, though, he knew there was another reason he was having trouble with the concept of leaving her. The way her parents tried to control her and dictate every aspect of her life, right down to who she'd marry—it had reminded him of something before, but he hadn't been able to put his finger on it until tonight. And now that he had, he wished he hadn't.

He reached into the mini-bar for another bottle and twisted the cap off, drinking it without bothering to look at the label first.

Once upon a time, there'd been a little boy named Baxter Barton whose parents lived in Grosse Tete. Their family wasn't nearly as wealthy as the Altamuras—Baxter's father was a surgeon, and his mother was a software designer—but they were still firmly ensconced in the upper middle class, with an emphasis on the “upper.”

And they'd had such plans for their beloved little boy, hadn't they? That was how they'd always said it, in hushed, eager tones: Such plans, as though they could wrap up their son's entire future in a shiny gift box and present it to him with a big bow, pre-assembled, batteries included, nothing required of him except to take it and say “Thank you.”

Such plans meant sending him to a private school, far from the playmates he'd had when he was younger. Such plans meant no meat, no soda, nothing sweet, nothing fried. Such plans meant piano lessons three days a week, baseball practice all weekend, and church every Sunday. Such plans meant he'd go to whichever college they chose for him, and such plans meant forced dates with Isabelle, the glum, pimply girl who came from the only other family in town that was even close to the Bartons in wealth and status.

And then came Skull, and heavy metal music, and motorcycles, and teenage rebellion. Then came the fledgling Voodoo Devils, and blowing town at age 17 without ever looking back.

And if Skull hadn't come into Bax's life at just the right moment to save him from his parents' tyranny, what then? Would he be working in an office, doing a job he hated for people he couldn't stand? Would he be married to Isabelle? Would he visit his mother and father for bland brunches every weekend so they could nag him about when he'd give them grandchildren? Would his parents have such plans for them too?

Skull had saved Bax from that life. And if Bax didn't do the same for Stef, who would?

Mule let out a particularly loud snort, farted, shifted his position, and started snoring again.

He was staying in Bax's room to keep up the appearance of being his bodyguard, but Bax knew there was another reason too: He'd been tasked with keeping an eye on Bax, to make sure he didn't do anything else the others wouldn't approve of.

So all this speculating about Stef's future without him—or with him, for that matter—was moot, wasn't it? His co-conspirators had almost drawn and quartered him when they found out he'd had sex with Stef. Even if he could somehow see her again, the rest of them would be furious when they heard about it.

Unless...

Bax stood up slowly, setting the small bottle down on the nightstand and thinking hard.

Unless he could somehow make his rendezvous with Stef into a guarantee of even more money for all of them. Unless he could turn it into part of the score itself. They couldn't be too angry then, could they? Sure, maybe they'd yell and curse at him a little for changing the plan again without telling them, but ultimately, they'd want that extra cash. Who wouldn't?

You're drunk, his brain informed him sourly. You're horny, you're lovesick, and you're making stupid excuses for a bad decision.

It's a brilliant decision, his heart shot back. Who wants to see Benny Altamura taken down even more than Skull and the others?

Stef, that's who.

Bax crept across the hotel room, keeping his eyes fixed on Mule. He made it to the door and stepped out, closing it gently behind him. When he got down to the lobby, he ducked into the bar and ordered a cup of strong black coffee.

For this next part, he'd need it.

Chapter 22

Bax

Bax stood outside the high gate surrounding Altamura's house. He remained behind the tall bushes, peering in.

Scaling the gate itself wouldn't be too difficult, except that he'd have to find a way to keep the loose bars from rattling together and drawing attention to him as he climbed. He'd already found several thick sticks beneath the foliage, and he'd wedged them into the spaces between the bars so they wouldn't move around and make noise.

Avoiding the lone guard with a shotgun who patrolled the grounds wouldn't present much of a challenge, either. It was a large house, and once the guard disappeared around the corner, Bax would have about three or four minutes to shimmy up the gate and run across the lawn.

No, the real problem was what came after that.

Bax knew he couldn't go in through any doors or windows on the ground floor—someone like Altamura would certainly have a hell of a security system in place, and he couldn't risk an alarm going off. There was a wooden trellis at the side of the house with a window right next to it, but who knew what was behind it? Benny's bedroom? And even if it wasn't, could Bax really expect to sneak around the second floor trying to find Stef's room without being caught? For that matter, even if he could, what reaction could he expect from Stef if he just pushed open her door and walked in?

Wow, I must have been pretty drunk, Bax thought. This plan was incredibly stupid.

Suddenly, a light switched on in the window next to the trellis. Bax saw Stef's face in it, looking out into the night. She wore a nightgown, and without her makeup, Bax thought she looked more beautiful than ever despite the sadness in her eyes.

It's a sign, Bax thought, smiling. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be tonight, and the plan's going to work after all.

Stef watched the armed guard stroll across the lawn. When he went around the corner, she withdrew from the window.

It was time.

Bax hopped up onto the gate, using the cross-bars as footholds. The bars swayed and wobbled a little, but the pieces of wood between them kept them from hitting each other. When Bax reached the top, he considered climbing back down the other side carefully, then figured it was better to save time and jump. He landed badly on his right ankle, rolling it. The pain was sharp, and he almost cried out.

He hobbled across the grass as quickly as he could, agony flaring in his ankle with every step. He knew this would make climbing the trellis a lot harder than he thought, and he briefly considered turning back and hopping the gate again before he was discovered.

Then he took another look at the light in Stef's window and kept going.

When he got to the trellis, he hooked his hands and feet between the slats cautiously, lifting himself up to test the weight. The wood groaned a bit, but it seemed like it would hold.

He hoped it would. If he came crashing down on the lawn in a pile of boards and vines, he couldn't think of a single believable excuse he'd be able to give Altamura.

Bax pulled himself up the trellis, trying not to put too much weight on his injured ankle. He did his best not to count off the seconds in his head as they turned into minutes, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't ascending as easily as he thought he would, and if he didn't make it up the trellis and into Stef's room in the next seventy seconds, he'd have an ass full of buckshot.

What if she doesn't let you in? his brain scoffed.

Too late to worry about that, genius, his heart snapped irritably. Just get to the top.

One of the wooden slats splintered under Bax's left foot, and he almost lost his balance and fell. He was sure Stef or the guard would hear the sound, but the window remained shut and no one came running.

As Bax reached the highest slats, a splinter dug into the palm of his hand. Twenty seconds, and the guard would come around again.

Bax leaned over, looking into Stef's window. She was reading in bed.

He tapped on the glass gently.

Stef glanced at the window, saw him, and turned pale. She looked like she was about to make a sound of surprise, but Bax put a finger over his lips, indicating for her to remain quiet. She got up and edged over to the window, the shocked expression frozen on her face as she opened it.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“I had to see you.”

Stef seemed taken aback by this. “Well...what if I don't want to see you?”

“Please,” he panted, trying to maintain his grip on the trellis. “I need to tell you something. It'll only take a second, and it's important. After that, if you want, I'll go away and you'll never have to see me again. Just please let me in, before the guard comes back.”

She hesitated for a moment, then reached out to grab his arms and help him inside. “All right, I guess you'd better get in here before you get shot. But I don't know why I'm doing this.”

“Because I'm betting our night together meant as much to you as it did to me,” Bax said as she closed the window behind him and drew the curtain. “I'm betting you've been thinking about me constantly, just like I've been thinking about you. In fact, I'll bet that's why you aren't sleeping tonight.”

“So first you sleep with me, then you try to distance yourself from me, and now you're coming through my bedroom window like some half-baked Peter Pan? You think you can just jerk me around, is that it?” She folded her arms in front of her obstinately, frowning at him.

“Listen, on our second date...I didn't want to say any of that stuff to you, okay? If it were up to me, we'd have had another night like the first one, and another, and another. But it wasn't my choice.”

“So whose choice was it, then?”

He looked her in the eye, took a deep breath, and took the biggest risk of his life. “The people I'm working with. The ones who are helping me bring down your father.”

She stared at him, stunned. “What are you talking about?”

He told her everything.

Chapter 23

Stef

As they sat on the bed together, Stef listened to the entire long, strange story. She knew she should have had a million questions for him, and she did—but for some reason, the least-important one came out first.

“Bax? What kind of a name is that?”

He smirked. “Short for Baxter. And believe me, bikers don't take you seriously when you're a Baxter.”

“I suppose they wouldn't,” she mused, chewing on her lower lip pensively.

“You don't seem too surprised by all of this,” Bax pointed out.

Stef thought it over. “I...guess I'm not, actually. This might sound weird, but it confirms a theory my mother already had about you. She tried to tell Dad that you were some kind of fraud who was working with the bikers to rip him off.”

Bax raised his eyebrows. “Jesus, really? She guessed all that?”

“Uh-huh. Dad refused to hear it, though. He shouted her down. He's convinced that you're for real, and that you'll make him one of the richest men in the country.” She started to laugh. “Wow, have you seen what you've done to him, by the way? He's completely falling apart! You must be one heck of a con man.”

“'Hell,'” he corrected her. “And for what it's worth, yeah, I'm one of the best in the world.”

“And so modest, too,” she said. “If having sex with me wasn't part of the plan, then why did you?”

He looked deep into her eyes. “You know.”

“And why tell me everything now?”

“You know that, too.”

She shook her head. “Nope. Sorry, but if you want to convince me I should trust you now, you'll need to do a lot better than that.”

“I told you because whatever we have, I don't want it to be over when we're done scamming your father. I want you to come with me. I know you hate it here, and I know you want to go someplace where your parents can't tell you what to do anymore. You might find it hard to believe, but my childhood wasn't so different from yours where that's concerned—and believe me, staying only guarantees that you'll stay miserable. Eventually, the time comes when all that's left is for you to run away. For you, that time is now.”

“Is that the only reason?” she asked warily.

Bax smiled. “No, there's one more. I helped my friend Skull get payback for what your old man did to him. I'm betting you wouldn't mind some payback of your own. You can help us strike the final blow against him, and come out the other side with enough of his money to live your life however you want.”

Stef thought this over. It seemed like Bax held the keys to a whole new life, one where all her dreams of freedom and independence could come true. But as she looked at him and processed everything he'd told her, she realized that the dream she most wanted to come true was the dream of being with him.

She reached out, taking his face in her hands and kissing him.

The warm breeze of his breath inside her mouth made her light-headed with desire. She felt his hand pressing against the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

The first time they'd been together like this, Bax had kept his clothes on. Every night since then—even the nights after the second date, when she'd convinced herself that she hated him—she'd been haunted by the thought of what had been under those clothes. His wide shoulders and tapered waist made her hungry to see his body, and she'd promised herself that if she ever had another chance, she'd satisfy her curiosity.

Now she fumbled with the buttons on Bax's shirt as she kept kissing him, undoing them one at a time until she could pull them aside and gaze at the chest beneath them.

His pecs and abs were firm. There were tattoos here and there—some of them were vivid and detailed, while others were crude and blurry, like jailhouse ink. She briefly wondered if he'd ever been in prison.

But one thing caught her attention the most, and she had to stifle a giggle.

“You're blonde?”

Bax nodded, smiling.

She shrugged. “Works for me.” And suddenly her lips were on his neck, working their way down his chest and stomach passionately until she was on her knees in front of his belt buckle. Her fingers trembled as she unbuckled it and lowered his zipper. His cock emerged, already hard for her.

She took the shaft in her hands for a few moments, kneading it gently, feeling it pulse and quiver in her palms. Then she brushed aside a strand of hair that was hanging in her face and parted her lips, taking him into her mouth.

A moan escaped Bax's lips and Stef immediately reached out for his hands with hers, squeezing his fingers as a warning. There were several rooms between her bedroom and her parents' room, but still, they couldn't risk making any sounds above a whisper. Bax signaled his understanding of this with a squeeze back, his breath coming in tight hisses.

Stef reveled in the feeling of his cock throbbing against her tongue. She felt a secret delight in plunging it deep into her throat, taking herself to the absolute threshold of gagging on it, and then pulling back at the last moment. It was warm as it pushed up against the roof of her mouth over and over again insistently. His hands were wrapped around hers so tightly that her fingers were starting to ache, but she didn't care.

When she couldn't take it anymore, she withdrew her mouth and stood up between his legs, pushing her panties down and kicking them aside.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Bax?” Stef asked in a hushed tone. She smiled, enjoying the role reversal.

Bax grinned, nodding. “Oh yes.”

“Then ask me.”

Bax's muscular arms snaked around her waist forcefully as he looked into her eyes, teasing her, daring her. “No, I'll tell you. Fuck me, Stef. Fuck me now.”

Stef felt a delicious shudder edge up her spine at his commanding tone. She hiked up her nightgown and straddled Bax's waist, lowering her wet pussy onto him. She bit back a moan of delight as he penetrated her, feeling him pierce into the molten core of her like a drill seeking precious ore.

His arms were folded around her torso, holding her tight while he thrust himself up into her. His palms were rough, but the way they touched her back was so gentle. The delicate lips of her pussy were stretched to the aching point around the base of his cock, until she felt as though she might be torn in half.

Bax's eyes remained locked onto hers. They seemed to want to say so much. But Stef knew he couldn’t say anything, knew they both had to keep quiet as their bodies rocked together in sweaty, delirious silence. The only sounds came from their heavy breathing, growing faster and more jagged with every new push.

Finally, Stef felt something burst open inside of her like an overfilled water balloon. Her thighs shook and spasmed, clinching around him more tightly. Her heightened gasps seemed to hover on the precipice of becoming something more, a moan, a scream...

Bax reached for a pillow behind him and handed it to her just in time for her to bite down on it. Then she unleashed a stifled string of shrieked vowels into it, letting go, surrendering to the tidal rush that poured through her entire body. She felt him climax inside of her with a shudder of lust before he collapsed backward onto the bed with a heavy thump.

Stef pulled herself off of Bax's lap and climbed onto the bed next to him. He put his arm around her and she pressed herself against his side, savoring his scent. They stayed that way for about ten minutes before she raised herself up on one elbow, looking at Bax quizzically.

“So how do you see me helping you take down my father? I mean, my mother already suspects what you're doing, so that seems like it'd be a pretty impossible hurdle to clear.”

Bax smiled. “You're right. Which is why the next step needs to be something so convincing, even she can't believe it was staged.”

He told her his plan. She had to admit, it seemed flawless—she was sure both of her parents would fall for it.

“Okay, sounds good,” she said. “But meanwhile, we need to get you out of here.”

Bax pouted. “What, I don't get to stay the night?”

Stef rolled her eyes. “Ha ha. We need to wait until the guard is on the far side of the house again. Then I can sneak you downstairs, switch off the security system, and let you out the side door. Think you can get over the fence again?”

“I hurt my ankle on the way up, but I should be able to, yeah.”

She gave him a stern look. “You'd better. You don't want to know what happened to the last guy my father caught me trying to see behind his back.”

“Aw, he wouldn't do nothin' like that to me,” Bax said, affecting a thick New York Italian accent. “I'm a freakin' made guy, over here!”

“Shhh! If he finds you in here, you'll be a made eunuch.” But Stef couldn't stop herself from giggling.

She peered out of the window, waiting for the guard to finish crossing the lawn. Then she turned to Bax, saying, “It's time. Let's move.”

As Stef hustled Bax out of her room, she thought she saw something move in the corner of her eye. But when she looked down the hall, she didn't see anyone.

“What is it?” Bax asked.

“Nothing. Come on. And make sure you step on the same floorboards and steps that I do.”

Together, they snuck down to the side door. Stef punched the correct code into the key pad and opened the door. Bax stole a cruelly-short final kiss which left her lips tingling before he broke into a run across the yard, limping slightly. She watched as he shimmied up the fence and disappeared over the other side.

Then she reset the alarm and crept back up to bed with a big grin, knowing she wouldn't be getting any sleep that night.

Chapter 24

Bax

Bax swiped his key card through the lock on the hotel room door, trying to turn the handle without making any noise. He opened it a crack and listened for Mule's snoring. When he heard it, he nodded to himself and proceeded.

But as soon as he stepped in and closed the door behind him, a pair of meaty hands grabbed the front of his shirt and swung him around, slamming his back against the wall. Bax landed on his injured ankle and yowled in pain.

Mule's slack-jawed, slab-like face was inches away from his own.

“Okay, it looks bad,” Bax said. “I admit it. But really, this isn't what it looks like. I had a sudden craving for oysters, so I figured I'd head over to Felix's for a quick half-dozen—”

Mule punched Bax in the stomach so hard that all the breath left his body. For a moment, his vision tripled and he thought his soul might have left it, too. He sagged to the floor, wheezing and clutching his belly.

“Wh-What the...fuck...was that...for?” he panted.

Instead of answering, Mule shook his head sadly and kicked Bax in the side, just below his ribs. Agony jolted through his organs like forks of lightning and he fell forward, catching himself on his forearms before he could hit the carpet face first. He tried to form words, but for a few seconds, all that came out was a long, gurgling whine.

“Stop it, Mule!”

Another kick, this time high up on his thigh, near the hip. Bax yelped, crumpling to one side and clutching the spot where Mule's shoe had landed. The pain still burned in his stomach and side, and he felt like he was playing Whack-a-Mole.

“If you don't fucking stop it, I'm gonna call for help! I mean it!”

Mule tilted his head to one side, shrugged, and stomped down hard on Bax's left kidney. His entire body seemed to seize up in a single cramp, and for a moment, reality turned a faded gray and he thought he might lose consciousness.

“Why are you doing this?” Bax asked in a wet, broken whisper. “You're supposed to be here to protect me!”

Mule grabbed a handful of Bax's hair and snapped his head back, looking into his eyes. “I am. This is me protecting you. And myself. And everyone else. From you.”

A fist connected with Bax's crotch and suddenly everything from his waist down seemed far away—it was someplace where pain was eclipsed by a distant and tingling dread more gruesome by far.

Bax opened his mouth to speak, but all that came up from his throat was a series of whimpers. He'd taken his share of beatings before—a common professional hazard for a con man, even a great one—but Christ, this was the worst.

“Once you've gotten yourself together, we're going to the warehouse to see the others,” Mule said. “I already called them. They can't wait to talk to you.”

Chapter 25

Bax

Bax's knees were wobbling and his entire body felt like one big bruise as Mule rapped the secret knock on the warehouse door. It opened immediately and Skull's burly arm reached out, seizing Bax by the scruff of the neck and dragging him inside.

“Hey, take it easy,” Bax groaned. “Can't you see the big guy already worked me over?”

“Enough of your fucking wisecracks, Baxter.”

Bax hadn't heard Skull use his real name since they were kids. Before he could process that, Skull dragged him across the dusty concrete floor of the warehouse and threw him into the corner roughly, where he collapsed in a heap. When he managed to drag himself to his feet and look around, he saw that everyone—Harry, Millie, David, Tommy, and all the Voodoo Devils—were standing around him in a loose semicircle.

Their eyes were cold and pitiless. They reminded Bax of the black water of a frozen pond he'd almost drowned in when he fell through the ice as a small child.

This must be what it feels like when a guy faces a firing squad, Bax thought. Or when he's about to be stoned to death.

“Look me in the eyes,” Skull commanded.

“Fuck that,” Tommy spat. “We all know what he did.”

“No, I want to hear it from him. I want him to stand there and look me in the eye and tell me with a straight face that he didn't fuck that girl again.” Skull crossed his arms. “Well, Bax? Go on.”

Bax sighed, knowing he might as well get it over with. “Fine. Okay. I fucked her. But it's not like that—”

“Really? What's it like, then, huh?” Harry stepped forward and got right in Bax's face, yelling. “What fairy tale horseshit are you going to try to feed us now? That it was about more than dipping your dick? That even a con man can find true love in the most unlikely places?”

Bax shrugged with a half-smile. “Heh, well, now that you mention it...”

David stared at Bax in disbelief. “Holy shit. I knew you had problems, but I had no idea it was this bad. This is all my fault. If I'd known, I'd never have let you put this con together.”

“I'm going to go make myself a nice mug of cyanide,” Millie sighed, her head sinking into her hands. “Anyone else want some?”

“You promised me.” Skull shook his head slowly in disbelief. “After all these years, after everything we've been through together, you stood there and you promised—”

“Oh, give me a motherfucking break!” Tommy stomped over to Skull, flecks of spittle spraying from his mouth as he screamed. “You stood there and believed him! I tried to warn you that this mook's word was no good, but he gives you some useless pinkie-swear of a promise and you let him off the hook! Well, I told you so, you fucking pinhead grease monkey! You hear me? I told you so, I told you so, I told you so!”

Skull spun around and punched Tommy in the face. Tommy's glasses skidded across the floor and he sat down hard, blood pouring from his nose.

“Tommy, a goddamn two-year-old could have told you that now was not the time to say that to me,” Skull growled.

Tommy stood up, wiping his nose on his sleeve and staring at everyone else in disbelief. “I don't fucking believe you people. He sends the whole plan to hell just so he can give some girl the high hard one, and I'm the one who gets punched?” He stalked over to his glasses, picking them up and wiping them off as he headed for the door. “You're crazy. All of you. I'm out of here. I should never have agreed to this scheme.”

“But you did agree to it, Tommy,” Bax called after him. “So where are you gonna go now? Back to Dallas? What do you think Old Man Parrino's gonna do once Altamura gets his shit together and tells him you were in on this? Sure, he might keep you around for a while...as a rug in front of his fireplace.”

“Then I'll just have to go on the fucking lam, won't I?” Tommy snapped. “And with barely enough money to get by on thanks to you, you horny, selfish prick. I'll probably end up pumping gas somewhere in Montana.”

“Or you could stick around, see this through, and come out of it with enough millions of dollars to buy yourself whatever life you want,” Bax countered. He tried to sound calm and in control, but his stomach felt like someone was twisting a corkscrew into it. He'd lost their trust completely, and even Skull wasn't on his side anymore.

The next few words to come out of his mouth could be the most important ones he'd ever uttered.

“Here we go.” Tommy looked at the ceiling imploringly and flapped his arms in frustration. “Here comes the next sales pitch. He's gonna try to convince us we've still got a shot at pulling this off. Lord, I'm begging you, reach down from heaven and lift me up out of this flaming lake of nonsense.”

“Actually, we've got a better shot at it than ever now,” said Bax.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “You cannot be serious.”

“May as well let him talk,” Millie mumbled. “I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use a good laugh before I die.”

Skull clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw twitching. “This had better be good.”

“All right, look,” Bax began. “I'm not going to feed you all a bunch of rainbows-and-unicorns crap about why I needed to see her again, because you don't care and you wouldn't believe me anyway. But trust me when I tell you that if we just hang in there a little longer, we can double our money and take Altamura out of the picture permanently...now that we've got someone on the inside.”

“Oh my fucking God,” Harry blurted out, his hand going to his mouth. “Do you hear what this lunatic is saying? He's telling us that he told the daughter all about this.”

“You didn't,” Skull breathed, his eyes widening. “Fuck, Bax, no, please, you didn't do that.”

“You're goddamn right I did, and you're all going to thank me for it.”

The entire warehouse reacted with a chorus of groans and curses. Several crumpled beer cans were hurled in Bax's direction, making him duck and flinch.

Skull scowled at him. “If you honestly think a girl's gonna be more loyal to some dude she barely knows than to her own father, then I gotta hand it to you, 'cause you fooled me into thinking you weren't a moron for one hell of a long time.”

“You only think that because you don't know what I know. I've spent time with this girl. I've heard her whole story. You think you've got a beef with Altamura? A couple of knuckle sandwiches and a lousy quarter mil? Man, this guy has completely fucked up Stef's life from the moment she was born. He controls what she eats, what she wears, where she goes, even who she talks to. He's willing to marry her off to someone she doesn't even like, for Christ's sake! She wants to see him eat shit even more than we do, and she'll do anything to help us make it happen. And can you think of a more effective weapon for us to use against him? Can you think of a better way to completely erase him as a threat than by stealing every penny he's got and his daughter too? Forget coming after any of us—Benny won't have time. He'll be too busy running from everyone who ever had a grudge against him, and that's if he doesn't just give up and hang himself with his shoelaces.”

Bax looked around, trying to gauge the reaction from his audience. He realized he was breathing heavily. It made sense—he felt like he'd just done the world's longest, most desperate tap-dancing routine.

But it looked like they were buying it.

Slowly, grudgingly, certainly against their better judgment...but still.

“Okay,” Skull said. “Maybe you're right. Maybe we can still pull this off. But if you want us to go forward with it, I've got two conditions, and they ain't negotiable.”

Bax nodded. Whatever the conditions were, he was sure they wouldn't be a problem.

“First, you want this girl to be part of the prize? Fine. You can consider her your cut of the loot. Your share of the money gets split up among the rest of us, as reparations for all the bullshit and hassle you've put us through.”

“Understood. Of course. That's completely fair.” Bax didn't love the idea of walking away from this score without any cash, especially since he'd have Stef with him. But he'd been broke before, and he'd always made enough moves to stay afloat. He was sure he'd manage this time, too.

And besides, maybe having a woman with him would open doors to newer, more lucrative scams. Why not?

“Second, when this is over, so are we.”

Bax blinked, surprised. “Hey, come on. I know things are tense right now and I've made some bad choices. I'm sorry, okay? But you don't mean that. I know you don't.”

Skull shook his head. “I made a mistake, calling you in on this. I thought I knew you, even though we hadn't seen each other for so long. I was wrong. And now that I do know you, I know you ain't my friend and you never will be. The only friend you've got is yourself, and I fucking pity you. And when this score's finished, I never want to see you or hear from you again.”

Bax couldn't believe it. Sure, he'd pulled some boneheaded stunts, and maybe he hadn't considered Skull's feelings the way he should have—but that was only because it was Skull, and they'd been so close as kids that he was sure Skull would always find some way to forgive him.

But looking into Skull's wounded eyes now, Bax realized he'd been wrong.

“Yeah. Okay. If that's what you want.”

“It is,” Skull rumbled. “Now tell us what the girl's part is gonna be in this plan of yours. I'm sure you've already got it all figured out.”

Bax laid out all of the steps for them.

When he was finished, they all nodded and got to work on their individual tasks without another word.

To Bax, their silence was deafening.

Chapter 26

Stef

Stef sat in bed reading, as she often did for much of the day.

Since she usually had nowhere to go, no one to see or talk to, no internet to surf, and no real desire to be around her parents, she generally confined herself to her room. There was a TV, but since it was the middle of the day, she knew that nothing would be on except trashy talk shows and soap operas. Her walls were lined with books—she'd read most of them dozens of times since childhood, and now she was flipping the dog-eared pages in her copy of Alexandre Dumas' “The Man in the Iron Mask.”

But even though it was one of her favorite stories, she found that this time, she could barely focus. She was too nervous and excited about her part in Bax's plan.

It seemed like it would work, and based on Bax's confident tone when he outlined it for her, she had no problem believing that he'd executed similar schemes on countless occasions and they'd all gone smoothly. He'd assured her that if it were truly dangerous, he wouldn't dream of involving her. And she trusted him, mostly because of the trust he'd shown in her by confiding that he wasn't who he'd pretended to be.

Still, she'd never done anything like this before, and the thought of getting caught gave her a scary thrill so intense that it rendered her light-headed and nauseous. There were times when seriously considering the risks—and the rewards—made her feel like she might actually faint. If they pulled it off, her father would be utterly ruined, and she'd never have to see him or her mother ever again.

But if they failed...

The photos of Arthur floated to the surface of her mind, no matter how much she tried to push them back down. Bax's fate would surely be something like that. Would her punishment be the same? Lighter, since she was a member of the family?

Or even worse, since she'd betrayed it?

Stef tried to bury herself in the book again, but no matter what position she was in, her body didn't feel comfortable. Her own skin seemed strange to her somehow, like her body belonged to someone else—she tried to make sense of these vague and disquieting sensations, but understanding seemed just beyond her reach. Jitters crawled through her body in waves like armies of insects, and there were frequent, intense cramps in her abdomen. It felt like she was getting sick, but she was sure these were just symptoms of anxiety.

The book brushed against her breasts as she shifted positions again, and she was surprised to discover that they were sore. She frowned. Had Bax pinched them or bitten them the last time he'd made love to her? She couldn't remember, but even if he had, it seemed odd that they'd still feel so tender.

And the more she thought about it, the more she was sure he hadn't actually touched her breasts at all.

There was something else, too. Ever since Bax had come through her window three nights ago, it seemed like her parents were looking at her differently. Her father barely spoke to her, and her mother barely looked at her. It was another reason she'd sequestered herself in her room so completely. Their eyes seemed hard, flat, and suspicious whenever she was in the room.

But surely, they couldn't know what Bax was planning, or that Stef was involved? If they did, they'd have confronted her about it instead of giving her the cold shoulder.

Wouldn't they?

Stef shook her head, trying to clear it. These thoughts were tying her brain in knots.

No...not her brain. Her stomach.

She tossed the book aside and got up, running to the bathroom down the hall. She barely made it to the toilet before she threw up, sinking to her knees on the chilly porcelain tiles.

As she flushed the toilet and brushed her teeth, she took this as confirmation that she was coming down with something. That made sense—stress, both positive and negative, could lower the immune system enough for some stomach bug to slip in. And between her delight at the prospect of running away with Bax and her dread of being caught, this was definitely the most stress she'd ever felt in her life.

Then she made a mental list of her symptoms, leaned over, and vomited again.

No, she thought. No, no, no. This can't be happening. Not now. Not in the middle of all this.

Stef had often fantasized about having a baby—in a different world, as a different person from a different family. The father would be someone she chose for herself, who she loved with all her heart. They'd give their baby all of their adoration and attention, filling its life with joy. They'd play with it and hold it and kiss it and listen to it, and they'd do anything to help it make its dreams come true, no matter what. Deep down, Stef believed that the only real way to erase the damage her parents had done to her would be to ensure that when she had a child of her own, it would be happy, and free to live its own life.

But in those fantasies, she was married to the baby's father, and her life was stable and sunny. In real life, she was involved in a conspiracy to defraud her own father, and she was about to run off into a perilous and uncertain future with a wandering con man.

The circumstances were hardly ideal.

And when she told Bax, what then? Given the choices he'd made in life, she had a hard time believing he'd be delighted by the news. It was unlikely that someone who made a living roaming the country and scamming people would be eager to settle down and start a family. What if he decided to leave her behind once the con was over?

She thought of the look in his eyes when he'd told her that he came from a background that was similar to hers. She wished she had pressed him for more information. It would make it easier for her to believe that he really would take her away from all this, even if he knew she was...

God, could she even bear to think the word, let alone say it?

...pregnant. Even if he knew she was pregnant.

Stop being silly, she chided herself. Even you don't know that you're pregnant. Not really. The signs seem to point to “yes,” but plenty of other women have probably been wrong before.

For her part of the plot against her father, Stef would have to sneak out of the house anyway. Not easy, but not wholly impossible, either—she'd managed it a time or two, when it was important. Before she went to the address that Bax had written down for her, she could duck into a drug store and buy a pregnancy test.

Then she'd be sure. Then she could tell him, if she needed to.

Stef washed her mouth out, splashed some cold water on her face, and returned to her bedroom. As she passed her parents' room, her mother glared out at her for a moment before slamming the door.

She got back into bed, picked up the book, and stared at the words on the pages without reading them.

Chapter 27

Bax

Bax stood on the waterfront at the end of St. Peter Street, watching the steamboats paddle back and forth in the Mississippi River.

He wondered if he'd ever be able to visit New Orleans again once this con was over. He supposed he might not, and the thought made him sad as he remembered all of the trips his family had taken to The Big Easy when he was a kid. Since then, he'd seen just about every city America had to offer. Some were beautiful, some were thrilling, some were dangerous—but none of them had ever seduced him the way New Orleans had, with its jazz and voodoo and tall tales. To him, it would always be the most magical place in the world.

But as long as he had Stef with him wherever he went, he figured he could still be happy.

Mule was positioned at Bax's right side, and when Bax saw him shift his considerable weight, he turned and saw Benny and Silvio walking toward them. Benny was still disheveled, but he didn't look confused and unfocused anymore.

If anything, he looked pissed as hell.

I don't like that, Bax thought. Whatever gave him that look, it definitely wasn't part of the plan. And this is too late a stage to start dealing with surprises.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Bax said. “I have news.”

“Oh? And what might that be? Some new complication that will require me to blindly hand over even more of my money?”

Well, that didn't sound good, for starters.

Bax frowned, trying to look confused. “I'm not sure why you would say something like that, but no. I heard from the Burmese militia members last night. They've released my father. He's finally coming home.”

“I'm so happy for you,” Benny replied in a steely voice.

Bax slowly allowed his expression to shift from confusion to irritation. “There's a tone in your voice that I'm having some trouble deciphering, Benny. Have I done something to upset you?”

“Several nights ago, my wife saw you sneaking out of Stef's bedroom.”

Shit.

Bax hoped Benny's cell phone would ring soon. He felt like it already should have happened, but he couldn't risk checking the time to be sure.

“Don't try to deny it,” Benny continued. “I should have been suspicious when you insisted on spending a few hours alone with her after your first date, but after the shoot-out with the bikers, I was too turned-around to think anything of it. You seemed like such a gentleman, a man of honor. And now my wife tells me she's heard Stef getting sick in the mornings. You've betrayed me and defiled my daughter, you lousy, filthy Judas.”

Bax's mind raced. It was bad enough that Benny had found out about them. But could Stef really be pregnant?

Of course she could, shithead, his mind answered. You didn't wear a condom, remember? You took Sex Ed in high school. You knew what could happen, and you went charging in anyway.

Please, God, let Benny's cell phone ring. Now. Right now. Please, please, please.

“Don Altamura...you're right,” Bax said, trying to sound humble and contrite. “I won't deny it. I've had an inappropriate relationship with Stefania behind your back, and your anger is entirely justified. But you must believe me when I tell you that this hasn't been some meaningless fling for me. I'm in love with your daughter, sir, and that's the truth. Now that this business with my father is over, I want to marry her. I want it more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. And if she is indeed with child, then I will dedicate my life to making sure that your grandchild is the happiest and most beloved kid in the entire world.”

Bax couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw Benny's eyes soften, just a little. Before he could say anything else, Benny's phone chirped. He checked the caller ID, but Bax already knew what it would show him: “UNKNOWN CALLER.”

Benny answered, putting the phone to his ear. “Whoever you are, you're not supposed to have this number.”

He listened for a moment.

Then his eyes bulged in terror, and his jaw went slack.

“Yes,” Benny whispered hoarsely. “Yes, he's with me.” After another moment, he lowered the phone, staring at Bax. “They know you're here. They want me to put them on speakerphone. They...Jesus, they say they've got Stef.”

Bax allowed all the breath to leave his body, adopting the expression of someone who'd been punched in the chest. Inwardly, he celebrated. The call had come at just the right moment.

Benny hit the button on the phone, holding it out in front of him.

“Who is this?” Bax asked.

A high, reedy voice with a clipped Asian accent emanated from the phone. “This is Commander Letrong of the Kokang Independence Army, Mr. Lupo. Surely, you remember me from our discussions regarding your father.”

“What is this?” Bax demanded. “I paid your ransom, and you've released him. Our business is concluded.”

“Perhaps,” the voice admitted, sounding amused. “Perhaps it has. But once we became aware that Mr. Altamura was the one holding the abundant purse strings which secured your father's freedom, we decided that our business with him had just begun. So I have traveled to New Orleans with several of my officers, and now we have Altamura's daughter in our possession.”

“Bullshit,” Bax snapped. “I know how your organization operates, bluffing big and shaking people down with your terrorist tactics. I'm really supposed to believe that you dirty jungle bastards traveled over a thousand miles across the world just to grab some girl for ransom?”

Letrong laughed. “We have managed to fight back against the full force of the Burmese government and their military for over a decade without being captured or killed, Mr. Lupo, despite being dramatically outmanned and outgunned. Do you truly believe that it is beyond our capabilities to purchase a couple of airplane tickets to Louisiana?”

“Fine, then prove it. Put her on the phone.”

“Very well.”

There was a pause, and then Stef's voice came through the phone. She was sniffling and sobbing, and her voice was ragged with panic. “Dad? Leo? Can you hear me?”

Bax tried to look shocked and horrified, noting Benny's expression as he did. Benny's eyes were full of tears, and the muscles in his face sagged. His face was as white as his hair.

“No,” he whined. “Not my baby, please. Not my only child.”

“We're here, Stef.” Bax tried to put a heroic, take-charge edge in his voice. “Can you tell us where you are?”

“They...they have a blindfold on me, and...God, they've hurt me so bad...they keep hitting me, and they broke two of my fingers...they...they say if you don't pay them, they're gonna...do things to me...I'm so scared, I've never been so scared, please, get me out of here...”

Bravura performance, Bax thought. This girl's a natural. Maybe once this is all over, she'll make a good con artist. He felt a sudden burst of newfound pride and affection. She was beautiful, she was smitten with him, she was dynamite in the sack...but best of all, she was smart.

“We'll get you out of there, sweetheart,” Benny insisted. “I promise, whatever it takes, we won't let them hurt you anymore.”

Letrong spoke again. “The price is fifteen million American dollars. You will meet us in Metairie Cemetery tonight at ten o'clock, in the mausoleum marked with the name 'Fournier.' Only you and Mr. Lupo are invited, and you are both to come unarmed. If any of these instructions are not followed, the girl will be made to suffer a series of unspeakable violations before she dies. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes,” Bax said. “We understand. We'll be there.”

“I'd like to hear it from Mr. Altamura too, if you don't mind.”

“Of course.” Benny was weeping openly now. “Anything. Just please don't hurt my little girl.”

There was a click, and the line went dead.

“You're not going in there without me,” Silvio said immediately.

“Look, I know you're a tough guy,” Bax assured him. “No one's disputing that. But you heard what they said. If they see someone else with us, the deal is off. Letrong wasn't fooling around when he said his rebels have been fighting the army in Myanmar for years. These aren't a bunch of goombahs in silk shirts we're dealing with. They're hardened soldiers. They don't value life, not even their own.” He turned to Benny. “Can you get the cash together in time?”

“I suppose I can,” Benny replied in a small voice. “But after the fifteen thousand I've already paid...I'll have to use everything I've got. All my savings, all my businesses, all the money the crews who work for me have brought in, everything I own. My entire operation will be ruined. I'll have nothing left. Nothing.”

“We can't worry about that right now. The only thing that's important is making sure Stef is safe. After that, my family can keep yours afloat until the heroin shipments start coming in. With everything you've done for us, it's the least we can do.”

“I can set up a sniper rifle nearby,” Silvio said. “Fire at them from cover.”

“You're not listening,” said Bax. “These are jungle commandos we're up against, trained in guerrilla tactics from the time they can crawl. Whatever you can think of, believe me, they've already thought of it.” He addressed Benny again. “As long as we do what they say, everything should turn out fine. Just meet me outside the gates of the Metairie Cemetery a few minutes before ten. Make sure you bring the full amount, because that's the first thing they'll check. I promise you, Benny...we'll get your daughter back.”

The look of pathetic gratitude on Benny's face was almost enough to make Bax feel sorry for him.

Almost.

Chapter 28

Bax

Bax gave the secret knock, and Stef let him into the warehouse, smiling. “How'd I do?”

“You were perfect.” He kissed her, ignoring the dirty looks from the bikers behind her. “Are you sure you never worked a con before? Because seriously, wow. I'm in on it, and you almost convinced me!”

She laughed. “Come in. Everyone's getting ready for the big finale.”

Bax followed her inside. Skull was in his black commando gear again, except the skull mask had been replaced with a balaclava. Bax leaned in to inspect Skull's face and saw that his skin had been painted an olive hue, and his eyes had been given a vague almond shape.

“Nice,” Bax commented. “As long as the mask stays on, it should fool Benny.”

“I wasn't exactly planning on whipping it off in the middle of the deal,” Skull grunted. Clearly, he was still angry. It didn't surprise Bax, but it still stung.

A few feet away, Harry worked on David's makeup. He'd fitted a convincing bald cap and added a long scar to David's face, and he was in the process of applying a short gray Fu Manchu mustache. David wore a camo ensemble.

“Not very subtle, is it?” Bax asked.

“A guy like Benny's probably only seen rebels from Southeast Asia in movies,” Harry pointed out. “We want to make sure he sees exactly what he expects to see.”

Bax addressed the room. “So, is everyone clear on the plan?”

“You and Benny get to the mausoleum at ten,” Skull said. “I frisk you both to make sure Benny's really unarmed, and then I inspect the money.”

“Meanwhile, I get to do the damsel-in-distress bit,” Stef chimed in.

“Then I pull a double-cross and say I won't release her after all.” David looked into a mirror, examining his makeup.

“At which point, I snatch Skull's gun away, take you both out, grab Stef, and tell Benny to make a run for it,” said Bax. “We split up. Ash and Panda fire off some blanks to spook him into running faster, and by the time he figures he's safe and tries to rendezvous with us, we'll be long gone.”

Tommy stood against the wall with his arms folded.

“You seem pretty quiet all of a sudden,” Bax commented. “No yelling about how the plan is fucked, I'm an asshole who can't be trusted, and you can't believe you're still involved?”

“I guess I ran out of things to say.”

Bax raised an eyebrow, then walked over to Harry and spoke to him quietly. “Do you have that other thing I asked about?”

Harry slipped him a pair of cufflinks. “It's the left one. I tested it, and it should work fine.”

“Good. Thanks.” He turned to Stef. “There's an office at the back of the warehouse, near the bathroom. Can I talk to you alone for a sec?”

Stef nodded, and they walked into the office.

Chapter 29

Stef

“You wouldn't happen to be pregnant, by any chance, would you?”

Stef's eyes widened. She'd taken the pregnancy test right after they'd made the call to her father, and it had been positive. In her head, she'd been rehearsing what to say to Bax for almost an hour, imagining every possible reaction from him and trying to decide how she'd respond to each one. For her, the most farfetched outcome seemed to be the one in which he'd react with joy.

But she certainly hadn't expected him to bring it up first, and now that he had, all of her planned discussions had run away from her. She felt like a rabbit in headlights.

“How did you know?”

“Your mother saw you sneak me out of the house. And Benny said they've heard you getting sick in the mornings. He gave me a pretty rough time about it.”

“So that's why they've been looking at me like that,” Stef sighed. “That makes sense. Okay. Is this the part where you tell me you can't deal with having a baby around, and you won't be taking me with you when this is over?”

Bax cradled her face in his hands tenderly. “This is the part where I tell you I'd never leave you behind to deal with the fallout after what we're about to do to Benny. It's the part where I tell you that we belong together, no matter what. And if there's a baby, well, we'll just have to make sure we do a better job raising him than our parents did with us.”

“Or her,” Stef whispered.

Bax grinned. “Or her.”

“I love you, Bax.” She felt warm tears spill down her cheeks.

He kissed her again. “I love you too.”

Stef clung to Bax like ivy embracing a wall, trying to find every nook and crease that would allow her to take root in him so they could become an inseparable whole. He held her tight and she felt strength and comfort in his arms, radiating from him, saturating every cell in her body with the unspoken promise of happiness and safety.

They both sank to the floor as one, their hands exploring each other's bodies eagerly. The carpeting in the office was cheap, ragged, and dusty, but Stef didn't care. She lowered herself onto her back and pulled Bax on top of her, spreading her legs so he could lie between them. He reached up to brush some strands of hair out of her face and then he was kissing her again, sucking on her tongue gently but insistently.

She ran her fingertips through his hair and caressed his neck, enjoying his hunger for her. Even through his trousers, she could feel his cock stiffen against her thigh. She reached down, kneading it slowly and relishing the way Bax's breath caught in his throat at her touch.

Bax hooked his fingers under the hem of Stef's dress, pulling it up over her head and tossing it aside. She arched her back and he reached behind her, unclasping her bra. A vent near the floor exhaled a hot, stale torrent of air, and as she felt it on her bare chest, her nipples hardened.

“Looks like we're both getting hard,” Bax said playfully.

He touched her breasts, and the faint tickle of his fingertips made Stef wet. As he fondled her nipples, she closed her eyes, moaning softly.

“I'm yours, Bax,” she sighed happily. “Every part of me belongs to you.”

“Damn right.”

She felt the tip of his tongue trace a line down her chest, pausing briefly to kiss her breasts before continuing its journey down to her belly. His breath was so warm against her, washing over her skin in gentle waves like a tropical breeze. He nuzzled the damp area of her panties, breathing in deeply, as though he was savoring her primal musk.

Stef opened her eyes again as Bax slid her panties down her legs and threw them over his shoulder. She caught a glimpse of the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and then his head was between her legs. His tongue found her clitoris easily and she gasped as it flicked against her.

Even though he was just licking the surface of her, she felt it all the way down to the base of her spine, making her tremble and spasm uncontrollably.

“Oh yes,” she murmured. “Yes, Bax, please, just like that.”

Bax took her clit between his teeth tenderly, rubbing it with his tongue. As he did, he slid a finger inside of her, followed by another. They pressed against Stef's G-spot and the room began to spin around her like a carousel. Her hands shook as her nails dug into the carpet at her sides. He moved his fingers in and out, in and out, expertly finding the most sensitive areas inside of her and applying pressure to them.

He was like a brilliant conductor and every nerve ending in her body was an instrument in the orchestra, their individual notes rising in harmony until their chorus reached its apex.

“No one's ever made me feel like this,” Stef whispered, each word carried on its own sharp exhalation like leaves on the wind.

Bax's mouth chuckled against her skin, and the tickle of his breath was more than she could bear.

“Take me...please...I need you inside of me, I need you now...”

Bax continued to taste her, the movements of his tongue and fingers growing more rapid, but not fast enough to give her what she needed. “Beg me,” he commanded between licks.

At first, Stef couldn't gather her thoughts together into coherent words. What flickered across her mind were scattered colors, feelings, impulses. How could she speak when she couldn't even think?

“Beg me, or I'll stop.”

She mustered all of her strength and focus. “Please...please, take me...please, Bax, please, please, I'll do anything, please...”

Bax withdrew his mouth and fingers from her and moved forward until he was on top of her again. Stef unhooked her fingernails from the carpet and impatiently reached up to seize the front of his shirt, tearing it open. His buttons scattered across the floor.

“That was an expensive shirt,” he said with a grin.

“We'll be rich soon,” Stef laughed. “I'll buy you a closet full of them.”

A brief shadow passed over Bax's face, but before Stef could ask why, he reached behind her head and pulled a handful of her hair. Stef's head tilted back, exposing her neck. Bax planted a series of kisses under her jaw as he reached down with his other hand, unzipping his pants.

A moment later, he was inside of her, his cock growing even more rigid as it filled her up.

Bax plunged deeper into her with every thrust, their cries of passion crashing against each other in the air between them. Stef was sure that the others in the warehouse could hear them, but she didn't care. In that moment, her entire world was this man, this room, this feeling.

Their hips rocked against each other until they ached, each trying to disappear completely into the other. The sweat of their bodies mingled together in an intoxicating perfume. Bax pressed into her harder and harder, until Stef believed that she could feel him making his way up into her stomach, her chest, her heart. Her pulse seemed to throb in perfect time with their lovemaking, filling her ears with its singular booming rhythm.

They came as one and it was like a dam breaking, a gushing, elemental roar that ran through both of their bodies. Stef wanted its raging current to lift them both up and wash them away together, anywhere at all, as long as they could continue to cling to each other.

But instead it passed over them, leaving them in a pile of limbs, damp and gasping for air.

They stayed that way for a long time before finally getting up and composing themselves. When they walked back to the main area of the warehouse, Skull looked them over disdainfully.

“Looks like you'll need a new shirt for tonight. Better hurry up and get one before the stores close.”

Chapter 30

Bax

Bax pulled up in front of the Metairie Cemetery in the red Ferrari at ten minutes to ten. Benny was already there, waiting for him with the valise. As he walked over, Bax noticed that Benny was freshly-shaved and wearing a crisp suit. His eyes were still baggy and exhausted, but he didn't look stricken and helpless, the way he had at the waterfront earlier.

This gave Bax a faint twinge of anxiety, but he pushed it aside. He was about to pull off the biggest score of his life. It was only natural for him to feel a bit jumpy.

“Glad you were able to smooth yourself out a little,” Bax said. “I know how hard that must have been, given the circumstances.”

“It's nothing. Just a shower, a shave, a change of clothes, and a couple glasses of grappa. I didn't want to give these animals the satisfaction of seeing me like that.”

Bax nodded. “We'll get through this, Benny, I promise. But listen—just in case anything goes wrong in there or it looks like they're going to screw us over, I'll grab Stef and get her to safety, okay? You just turn around and run as fast as you can.”

Benny shook his head. “No. She's my daughter. I'll take her.”

“Of course she's your daughter, and of course you feel that way, but you have to think it through. With all due respect, Stef and I are both younger and more in shape than you are. The odds of me getting her out of here in one piece are a hell of a lot higher. But if you split off from us and run for it on your own, Letrong's men will have to split up, which will lower the chances of them finding any of us. Once we've all gotten away, we can meet up at The Hurricane Club and call your guys down there to protect us.”

Benny considered this. “Okay. You're right. I'm sorry. You've dealt with these slant-eyed terrorists before, so you're in charge of this show. Just make sure Stef makes it out of here alive and unharmed.”

“You have my word on that, Benny. Now come on, follow me. I found Fournier on a map before I got here. We should be able to get there pretty easily.”

They walked through the vast, impeccably-manicured graveyard, passing rows of gothic crypts and monuments. There were many marble angels perched on the headstones in various poses—smiling, weeping, praying, brandishing swords, spreading their wings.

At last, they reached the tall, narrow mausoleum with “Fournier” chiseled over the doorway. The narrow doors had panes of stained glass depicting Michael the Archangel wrestling with Satan as crimson flames danced around their feet.

The doors were ajar, and a light flickered inside.

Bax walked in with Benny right behind him. David and Skull stood waiting in their costumes, with Stef kneeling on the floor between them. Her hands were tied behind her back, and a gag was tied around her mouth. Skull's AK-47 hung from his shoulders on a strap, and David had a handgun tucked into his belt. A lantern rested on the stone slab in front of them, casting their giant shadows on the rear wall.

“Thank you for joining us, gentlemen,” David said, using the accent once more. “Before we conduct our transaction, please be so kind as to turn around and place your hands on the wall, so my associate can make sure you are both unarmed.”

Benny set the valise down, turned, and put his palms against the cool stone wall. Bax did likewise. Skull stepped forward, frisked them both quickly, and nodded to David.

“Excellent. Now please, hand the money to him so he can verify that it's all there.”

Benny picked up the valise again, handing it over. Skull opened it, pawed through the stacks of bills, and nodded again.

“We've done everything that you asked, Letrong,” Bax said. “Now let her go.”

“Hmm.” David narrowed his eyes, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I think not. I think now that we're here, there are many opportunities for us to use the resources of your criminal operation to advance our cause. And I think your precious daughter would be the perfect insurance policy to retain when embarking on such a business venture. From now on, Mr. Altamura, you and all the assets of your little empire will be at our disposal.”

Bax snatched the AK from Skull, snapping its strap and slamming the rifle butt into Skull's stomach. As he did, he was careful to use the choreographed moves that Harry had taught them, so it would look like a savage blow without actually doing any damage.

David reached for his gun, but Bax swung the rifle around, firing several blanks into David's chest. The squibs went off as planned, and the fake wounds exploded with blood. Bax aimed the rifle at Skull just as he was starting to get back on his feet and unleashed another short burst of blanks. Skull's squibs popped too, the dyed red corn syrup splattering against the marble slab.

Skull and David slumped to the floor, playing dead.

Bax untied Stef's hands and pulled the gag off. “You came for me,” she said breathlessly. “Both of you. Thank you...”

“No time for that now,” Bax barked, turning to Benny. “I've got her. Go on, run! The rest of Letrong's men will be here any second!”

Benny stood firmly in place, his hands behind his back, his expression neutral.

“What are you doing?” Bax demanded. “Are you trying to get us all killed? Run!”

“Why should I?” Benny asked quietly. “I'm not afraid of guns filled with blanks. Especially when I have this.”

His right hand emerged from behind his back, holding a .22 pistol.

Bax stared at it, his heart sinking. “Where did you get that?”

“I hid it in my crotch,” Benny said evenly. “Silvio was right. Most men won't frisk another man there. Oh, maybe actual guerrilla fighters would...but not a bunch of half-assed bikers and con men, which is all you are.” He leaned over, addressing David and Skull. “You can both get up now, I think. There'll be plenty of time for you to bleed on the floor soon enough.”

Slowly, Skull and David got up, facing them. Skull pulled off his ski mask, glaring at Benny.

“Of course it's you,” Benny sighed. “I should have known.”

“Daddy, I can explain everything...” Stef began.

“Can you?” Benny sneered. “What possible explanation could you give for betraying me to a pack of greedy thieves and vultures? How much of my money did they promise you? What did it take for them to convince you to turn on me, after everything I've done for you?”

Stef's expression hardened. “Not much.”

“Okay, so it seems like you know the whole score,” Bax admitted. “Fine. It was a scam. But it was all my idea, from top to bottom. I'm the one you want.”

“Bullshit,” Skull spat. “I'm the one who called him in to help us get our money back from you. None of this shit would have happened if it wasn't for me. You want to torture someone, kill someone—here I am. This begins and ends with me. Go for it. Just let the others go.”

“A noble display, but you can all save your breath,” said Benny. “None of you are leaving this graveyard alive. Not after what you've done to me. Now come on, let's get out of here. I want to shoot you in the open air, so the bullets don't ricochet on the walls.”

He gestured to the doorway with his gun. They filed out in a line, stepping out onto the grass between the headstones.

“She's your daughter, Benny,” Bax whispered. “And she's pregnant.”

Benny's face crumpled with rage and anguish. “I don't care. I'd rather let my bloodline die right here, tonight, then let this ungrateful bitch live to spawn another rotten, spoiled, poisonous little traitor to the name Altamura. Everything I've ever wanted for my family has been stolen from me. This is all that's left.” He cocked the pistol.

“All right,” Bax said. “If you're going to kill us, you're going to kill us. Clearly, there's no talking you out of it. But before you pull the trigger, just answer one question for me. How did you figure it out? How did you know that Stef's kidnapping was a setup?”

Benny smirked and called out, his gun still leveled at them. “Silvio, you can bring him over now.”

Silvio stepped out from behind a nearby crypt, holding his Desert Eagle. Tommy walked behind him, adjusting his glasses.

“We found the other two bikers,” Silvio rasped. “They're tied up a couple of rows away.”

“Tommy,” Bax sighed. “Of course.”

“Hiya, Bax,” Tommy said with a smile. “After you demonstrated what an unreliable fuck you are, I figured this whole plan was pretty much doomed. So I went to Benny and came clean. Told him the whole thing, and in exchange, he's gonna make sure I get to stay a made guy, even after the mistakes I made. But I guess you made a few of your own, huh, pal? Like thinking I wouldn't dime you out.”

Bax's lips pulled into a grim smile. “Actually, 'pal'...that's exactly what I thought.”

He pressed the stud on the left cufflink, activating the device that Harry had installed in it. It was a simple transmitter, no different from the ones inside medical alert bracelets.

Except the people who received this particular signal weren't paramedics.

Over a dozen young black men emerged from their hidden positions behind the surrounding gravestones, aiming massive handguns at the gangsters. The chrome on their weapons gleamed in the moonlight.

Benny looked around, panicked. “What the hell is going on? Who are these men?”

One of the men stepped forward, holding a pair of gold-plated .44 pistols with pearl handles. The gold necklace he wore had the letters “J-GUNZ” engraved on it.

He pointed at Tommy. “That him?” he asked Bax.

“Yep,” Bax answered. “His name is Tommy Quarters, and he's the piece of shit who sold the smack to your son up in Ditchfield.”

J-Gunz looked Tommy over for a moment, then fired a bullet directly into the bridge of Tommy's nose. Tommy fell to the grass, dead, his glasses split neatly in half.

“Nice shot, big guy,” Bax said. “I know it won't bring him back, but I sure hope it helped. Now, about the second part of our deal...?”

J-Gunz nodded to his soldiers. They aimed their weapons and fired at Benny and Silvio. The gangsters dropped their own guns, jitterbugging on the grass as their bodies were riddled with bullets. When the shooting finally stopped, the two men slumped to the ground as clouds of gun smoke coiled above them.

Satisfied, J-Gunz holstered his pistols and walked over to Bax, shaking hands with him. “Pleasure doin' business with you. If you ever make it out to California, be sure an' look me up.”

“Will do,” Bax said.

J-Gunz motioned to his soldiers, and they withdrew, disappearing into the night.

Skull stared at Bax, dumbfounded. “Jesus. You are just full of surprises, aren't you?”

Epilogue

Bax

And so the Voodoo Devils rejoiced when Bax, Stef, Skull, and David returned with the bag full of money. Beer flowed, music played, and everyone took turns dancing with everyone else all night long. Even Millie managed a smile or two as Skull waltzed her across the floor. And when he asked if she could stay with them a while longer to lend the MC her considerable chemistry skills as it established a new empire in New Orleans—one in which the ability to synthesize and purify narcotics would be quite valuable indeed—she laughed, kissed him on the cheek, and said she'd think about it.

Later, when the sun started to rise and thirty million dollars had been counted out between Mule, Millie, Harry, David, and the Devils—six million per share—Skull approached Bax sheepishly.

“Listen, all that stuff I said to you before about us not being friends...”

Bax held up a hand, stopping him. “I understand, Skull. It's okay.”

Skull shifted his weight uneasily. “Yeah, well, even so. The Devils are richer to the tune of six mil, and none of that could have happened without you. And since you've got a girl now, and you're gonna have a baby and all...I reckon you shouldn't ride away from this empty-handed, is all.” He handed a shopping bag full of cash to Bax. “Here's a mil from my end.”

Bax looked down at it for a long moment, then embraced Skull, slapping him on the back. “Thanks, man. That really means a lot to me.”

“We're gonna have our work cut out for us here,” Skull said. “Chasing the rest of Altamura's guys out of town, setting up our own thing. We could use a big brain like yours, helping us figure out all the angles.”

Bax pulled back from the hug, smiling at Skull. “You've got my number. I'll always pick up. Trust me, I'm a lot easier to keep liking from a distance.”

That had all been a year ago.

Now Bax was behind the wheel of the Ferrari, driving down a Nevada highway on the way into Las Vegas. The windows were open, and the wind whipped through his hair—the black dye had finally grown out enough for him to shear it off, and he was blonde again. Stef sat in the passenger's seat, and chubby little Howie was strapped into a baby seat in the back, cooing and giggling as he sucked on his own fingers.

“So what should we go for this time?” Stef asked, eyeing the luxury hotels full of potential marks. “The Coin-Matching Scam? The Fiddle Game? The Rainmaker?”

Bax chuckled, shaking his head. “It doesn't matter. Remember the first rule of being a con artist? You can run any con, anywhere, with absolutely anyone. All you have to do—”

“—is know how to sell it,” Stef finished with a laugh.

Bax nodded. “Damn straight.”

THE END

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HIS PROPERTY: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Iron Bandits MC)

By Zoey Parker

I f*cked her like she’s my property – because she is.

She showed up on my doorstep, desperate and alone.

My dead brother’s girl – with their baby in her arms.

I’ll take them in…under one condition.

As long as they’re here, I’m gonna f*ck her from dusk ‘til dawn.

I’m not a babysitter, not a saint.

Hell, I’m not even a nice guy.

I’m a motherf*cking biker.

I fight hard and f*ck harder.

I ride fast and drink faster.

I don’t ask forgiveness or permission – I just take what I want and crush anyone who tries to stop me.

But Ellie is an obstacle of a whole ‘nother type.

I didn’t ask to be the guardian of my dead brother’s family…

And yet, here they are.

But it’s more than just a babysitting gig.

She needs something from me.

A fake marriage.

Well, shit.

I’ll do what I have to do – for my brother’s sake.

But if Ellie’s gonna be my wife, she better be prepared to perform all her wifely duties.

This wedding may be fake, but her moans sure as hell won’t be.

Bend over, sweetheart.

You belong to me now.

Chapter 1

Jack

“Get up, you lazy bastard.”

“Uurghnnn.” I peeked up into the harsh light the morning sun wreaked in my bedroom. It was my daily dose of ‘white shades: fail.’ I really needed to see about dark paint, or curtains, or something equally drastic. I was not good with mornings, especially those that came after long nights with bottles.

“Come on, Jack-o. You’re late. Again. Get the fuck up, man.”

“Whatimez…” I was totally lucid.

“Noon-thirty, you asshole. You were supposed to open at ten. Enough, already. Get. Your. Ass. Up.”

I groaned, swore, braced myself, and rolled up and out of bed. The throbbing vice on my frontal lobe intensified, and I took a moment with closed eyes to get a grip. This was not going to be my day.

But Grath was right—I needed to get into action. I’d been on a solid bender for…well, for a number of days, anyway. Long enough. Heart heavy with grief, I sent up a thought for my brother, Keith—whose birthday had recently passed—took a breath, and resolved to rejoin the living.

“Dude, seriously, you gotta go in. There’s some woman there waiting on you, with a baby. Kinda hard to tell for sure, but it does kind of look like you. I’d let you roll longer, but this…Jack, you gotta get up and deal.”

WTF?—I was still half-asleep, and full-on hung over. Woman and baby did not compute, but something clicked in my brain that sent my cells into action mode.

So I catapulted my sorry ass into a hot shower, which went pretty far to making me feel more human. By the time I got out, Grath was gone, but the guy had left me a lukewarm cup of dark roast. Not for nothing was he my favorite person alive.

I rooted around for clean clothes, which I was pretty sure was a lost cause, but I thought I’d give it a shot anyway.

Yeah, that didn’t work; it was definitely time to do laundry. I picked up a fallen tee, some jeans, socks, boots, pulled on my kutte, and rolled out.

By the time I made it to the shop, I was deeply regretting not having guzzled down a gallon of water and some painkillers the night before. Whoever invented sunshine should be shot. That fireball had no compassion.

Indoors at last, I was met by Trini, guardian of the front desk. She was a heavily-inked and pierced, five-foot-four, pink-haired, cat-eyed, militant organizer of the highest realm, and she provided snark at no extra cost. Basically, she was about the best thing that had ever happened to DeepInk, and we’d have been lost without her.

But on this day, I was cursing my luck that she wasn’t still out at lunch when I arrived.

“Hoo-boy. Look what we got today. Rating on the GM’s calendar! To what do we owe the honor?”

And so it begins.

“Shut it, Treens. And get me something for my head, would you?”

“Oh, is somebody suffering la cruda? Pobrecito! Yes, let me rush off to take care of your po’ widdoo head.” She shook her own at me. “Jerk. You deserve it. You back, now?”

Chin down, I peered at her over the tops of my sunglasses, which I tipped down but protectively kept on my nose. “Yeah, I’m back.”

She glared at me, then reached into a corner of her domain and pulled out a blessed bottle of ibuprofen. She tossed it to me as she headed to the back kitchen/staff room for what I hoped would be a bottle of water, giving me a shoulder bump on her way. Total gem.

I was looking over the schedule for the day—okay, I was procrastinating. I had no desire to meet with the mystery woman and her baby, if they were even still there.

When Trini came back with the water, she destroyed my hopes. “Heads up, boss. There’s a woman with a baby, looks like you, in your office. Been waiting there about an hour and a half, now. You been holding back on us, Jack? Deets, dude.”

I was careful. I was always careful. I could have been ten sheets to the wind, and I’d still use protection. No way could there be a kid out there with my genes. No way in hell. It was starting to piss me off.

“Name, Trini?”

“Didn’t get one. Just insisted on seeing you, I said you weren’t in yet, she said she knew your office was in the back and made her own way there. I don’t know this chick from nobody, but I am not getting in the middle of any lovers’ tiff. Your baby-mama, your problem.”

At that moment, the baby began to add in its two cents, as if on cue. It sounded like a catfight, but worse, since it came from the direction of my office. My space. This did not help my hangover. It was time to lose this woman and regain my peace.

“Yo, Jack-o, good, you’re here.” Grath poked his head out from behind the glass separating the artists’ stations from front reception. “That baby’s starting to cry and fuss again. You gotta get your ass back there, bruh. Babies are not good for business. Go deal, man.” He slapped my arm and retreated to his station.

This explained the coffee drop and home-visit intervention, then—light dawned.

I popped back a couple—okay, three—pills, took a long chug of water, and headed back. I’d make this quick. Whoever she was, she was not my problem. I’d already decided, and that was that.

The crying got louder as I got closer, but fantastically stopped just as I arrived at the door. I heard the woman heave a deep sigh, then strode in.

The first I saw of her was the back of her head, her long wavy blondies held up high in a ponytail, with a whole lot of them escaping around the edges. It looked soft and pretty, and kind of messy—which I loved, usually—but not this time.

My mind was already wracked to figure out who she was. I usually went for brunettes. The blondes I’d been with in the last year or two were few and far between. Still, that wasn’t really important; women changed their hair colors like it was a required ritual. But if she was claiming that I was her baby-daddy, then I’d have to have met her before. Ha!—understatement.

But seriously, from this angle, I got nothing.

She had, appropriately, seated herself in one of the two chairs facing my desk. The other was covered with her stuff. She’d come loaded down, her bags exploding with blankets and baby paraphernalia. Somehow, she had avoided the hell of the typical baby crap—that being all the Easter-egg-colored eyesores—and had opted for basic black, white, and red. Cool chick. I took note of the good taste, and filed it. Maybe this woman was rational. Maybe this would be quick. It gave me hope.

Best to make this fast. Still standing at the door, holding it open for her, I went for polite first. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but you got the wrong guy, lady. Time for you to go. Get the fuck out of my office.”

Chapter 2

Ellie

Tired and butt-sore, my arms heavy with little Peter, I was just breathing a sigh after getting my little fuss-bugger to latch on and relieve us both: him, of his hunger, and me of my capacity-packed mammaries.

I loved that I could breastfeed this guy, but it was not the easiest thing to do in public spaces. I was still learning how to adjust, and comfort was not always attainable without the huge nursing pillow, which was way too big and awkward to carry around outside. So I held him as best I could, with a light blanket draped from over my shoulder to shield the view, should Jack ever deign to show up.

Damn it, I knew I should have called first to see if he was here, but that wasn’t really an option, seeing as I was currently coasting without a phone. But once I had made the decision that today was the day, I had forced myself to go through with it. So I waited, uncomfortable as it may have been. I was finally doing this.

Truth: I wanted to do this. I wanted Peter to be known, to have more in his life than just me. To have a man to look up to. It was fair, and it was right. And Keith would have wanted it, too. I hadn’t known Keith very well, but that much I knew in my heart.

God, I hoped Jack was as good a man as Keith had made him out to be. I was really starting to have my doubts. The way the people in this shop had looked at me and Peter was not friendly-like. And I could feel the smirks all around, even though I had placed myself so I didn’t have to see them.

They, in turn, couldn’t see my discomfort, either. I hoped they saw only an awesome new mommy and strong woman. That was what I was attempting to put out anyway—strong spine, strong gaze, and totally in charge of all chaos that is baby.

The front area of the shop had been warmly lit with huge windows welcoming in the morning sunshine. On the right was a large glass cabinet-countertop, featuring assorted piercing rings and gauges and stuff you’d find in head shops the world around. To the left was a seating area with a black leather sofa, loveseat, and armchair set, and coffee and end tables topped with ink mags and huge, overstuffed, three-ring portfolio binders.

The walls were covered in tat art, too. It wasn’t a huge space, but it looked like the shop went deep. A window-topped partition wall divided the front from the workstations inside, to which a glass door served as entry. It was pretty much what one would expect of any decent tattoo parlor; not noticeably fancy, but also not a shack.

For his part, Peter had done an excellent job when we came in. He had been awake and alert—a bonus, from my perspective. His big baby blues were so much like his daddy’s that I thought for sure anyone who had known Keith would have automatically recognized his son. Both the woman behind the glass cabinet/counter and the big tattooed hulk of a man, who had been leaning on the counter chatting with her, had taken good long looks at my baby before sharing a surprised, silent communication between themselves. I had thought this was a good sign.

And then they had both looked at me with a load of suspicion and…was that anger? Okaaay. Awesome.

“Can I help you?” The woman’s voice was hard, her words shooting at me staccato.

“I’m here to see Jack Edwards.”

“You don’t have an appointment.” This much I knew.

“No, I don’t. I was hoping he could give me just a few minutes. Is he in?”

“Actually, no, he’s not.” She shot a glare at the big guy. “But he should be.”

The guy shoved his chin out, flared his nostrils, and took in a deep breath. He’d been staring at Peter’s little face, but now looked at me with steel in his eyes.

“He’ll be here. But it might be awhile.” He watched me, as if determining my resolve.

“I’ll wait. His office is in the back, right? I’ll just wait there.” I wanted to get away from these people and their prying eyes. What I had to say had only to do with Jack. Peter was not for public consumption.

Also, I didn’t want my baby out in this space for long. He was still so little, so fragile. My mama-bear protectiveness was up in full steam, and we’d only been in the shop for less than two minutes. No way did I want to be hanging out in front, with its swinging doors, for however long “awhile” might take.

So I powered past these two guardians and marched through the large middle section of the shop—the inking stations. I could see a central door in the back, leading to what had to be Jack’s office. I didn’t hear either of them try to stop me, so I figured everybody was happy with my executive decision.

Bingo; nailed it in one.

Jack’s office was a cramped, ugly mess: overhead fluorescent bar lighting—with the accompanying hum from hell; wood paneling, like your basic 1970s basement; a tall gray metal filing cabinet with papers stacked and unstacked around and on top of it; and a matching desk with fake wood laminate top, likewise covered with paper.

I peered at what was easily visible and saw a lot of spreadsheet tables and tattoo art. Half-buried under all that, there was a keyboard and flat-screen monitor, and a random assortment of paperclips and pencils served as toppings. About the only thing missing was organization.

If the office was any reflection of the man, this was not a good sign. I did the best I could to situate myself comfortably with Peter, using the second chair facing the desk for my load of baby gear. All things considered, we had what we needed for a while, and I settled in to wait.

It took forever. My butt was getting sore, and it was all I could do to keep Peter from fussing every time the tattoo guns fired on. Thankfully, someone had come over soon after we had settled in the office and shut the door behind me, apparently aware that the noises might trigger other, unwelcomed, noises from our direction. So at least there was that barrier, plus some small measure of privacy for me and my little guy.

I took a deep breath and focused back on my baby. No matter what, Peter and I would be okay. We would. We had to be. My baby was a fighter, and had made it this far. We’d get through this, too, one way or another.

I was getting fidgety myself, waiting so long for Jack to show up. I wondered what the issue was. The pixie woman up front had seemed pissed at his absence as well. There was a story there, I was sure. Whatever it was, the man seemed confident that Jack would be showing up at some point, so I resigned myself to bide the time.

But I was getting steamed, myself, even though I knew he had no idea I’d been coming in. Rationally, I had no reason to get so upset. But I was, more and more with each passing minute.

Suddenly, I felt a whoosh at my back, and I could feel a strong presence there. It could only be Jack.

Even though I had yet to lay eyes on this man, his energy radiated in a way that put my whole being on alert. Since Peter was nursing, I forced myself to stay still and calm, but my heart had already started beating faster; this was really, finally, going to happen—now.

And then his voice, deep and strong, boomed at me.

“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but you got the wrong guy, lady. Time for you to go. Get the fuck out of my office.”

My jaw dropped and my eyes about popped out of my head, and I was glad he could only see the back of me. This guy sounded downright mean—and scary.

This was Jack? Things were not off to a good start. I could feel the tears begin to burn behind my eyes, and my throat tightened.

I didn’t get up; I couldn’t, really. But my body must have jerked, and Peter had unlatched, and he started to cry. I wasn’t sure what to do: get the baby back onto my nipple, or stand up and face off with the ugly, distempered uncle in our midst.

I decided on the latter.

As gracefully and quickly as I could—and it wasn’t very much of either, with baby in arms—I adjusted my bra and re-settled my top, stood up, and turned to see the man himself.

Jeez, he was huge. Tall, probably six-three or -four—taller than Keith had been by a few inches, I was pretty sure. But also, he was built. Cut. Defined. He probably lived in a gym, when he wasn’t here at the shop. He didn’t look like Schwarzenegger—this was not steroid-big—he more aptly resembled a super-fit linebacker out of uniform. He shared some features with Keith: gorgeous, widely-spaced big blue eyes, strong brow ridge, strong jaw. He had dampened, dark, silky hair that fell over his forehead, ears, and nape. What skin I could see was tanned. His full lips cried to be bitten and licked, and he had a few days’ growth of beard. He looked hot. My panties immediately dampened, and I’m pretty sure I blushed. I couldn’t help it.

Nevertheless, that didn’t negate that he was rude. And wrong. And…and…and rude.

Gah. My brain was not working so well.

“Excuse me, but I don’t think I heard you right. Did you just tell me to get the fuck out of your office, Jack?”

His eyes were covered in shades, so I couldn’t read them for a clear reaction, but I’m pretty sure it was my use of his name that gave him pause. Score one for me.

Peter, by this time, was in a full-on squall. I glared at Jack, grabbed my things from the other chair, shoving a spit blanket and rattle and snot sucker back into the bag one-handed, muttering the whole time. “Jerk, crap, dammit, jerk.”

I slung the bag on my shoulder and turned my attention back to Jack. “For your information, I do not have the wrong guy. You are Jack Edwards? Yes? So, no. I’ve got the right guy. But it seems you are not the guy I thought you would be. This is your nephew, Jack. This is your brother Keith’s baby. I thought you might like to meet him, maybe even get to know him as he grows up.” I broke off, and tears threatened to pour. “If he grows up.”

God, I hated sounding dramatic, but this was our truth. I needed always to be honest about this, to keep myself braced. I fought to keep my voice from choking—but I didn’t stop. “I need your help, Jack—but obviously, you don’t care. Okay. Fine. Keith told me you were a great guy, which, it turns out, is not the case. So, no, I don’t want my son to know you. I’ll find another way, you ass. Congratulations, Jack, you are getting your wish. We’re outta here. And fuck you, too.”

As I said, I was feeling a little bit emotional.

He had backed up enough for me to charge out of his space and I was mid-way through the shop before I realized that I was playing this all wrong. He was right on a majorly important point: he didn’t know me, he’d never seen me before, and I was there at my own instigation. I was there because I needed him—no, Peter needed him—well, in any case, we needed him, and it was my responsibility to slow down, back it up, and get him to hear what I’d come to say.

Jack had had no warning, no indication of our existence up until today, I was pretty sure. Plus, he really needed to meet his nephew. I had to give this—give Jack—a second chance.

I was slowing my pace with each passing step, but I was still on the verge of tears, and that was not how I wanted this to go down. So I kept walking to the front desk, hoping I’d make it out of the shop before I had an absolute breakdown. I figured I’d have myself a little cry, get myself under control, and then go back in for round two.

I didn’t make it out, unfortunately.

The pixie guard upfront watched me as I got closer—she clearly had heard the confrontation, and she saw everything in my face as I made my way up front. Even before I got there, she had grabbed some tissues and came out from behind her counter. As soon as I breached the partition wall, she took hold of my freer upper arm and steered me to the loveseat, gently pushing me down to sit and taking the bag from my shoulder.

“I can’t believe what an asshole he is sometimes.” She looked into my eyes, reassuring me that she was on my side. I was totally confused at this point.

But the tears had already started to rain down my face, and poor Peter was crying so hard from the movement—and I’m sure he could sense my upset as well—so with some embarrassment, I accepted the tissues to wipe my face.

The suddenly-nice pixie pulled a fast one and swept Peter from my arm, settling him comfortably and capably in her own body cradle. She was obviously experienced with babies, somehow, despite the fact that there was nothing about her that might suggest it. She was smiling and cooing at him, giving his rooting mouth the tip of her pinkie finger to suck, and watching his face closely as he closed a tiny fist around it. She looked up at me quickly, and noted my expression of horror.

“Don’t worry, babe. My hands are super clean. I’ve been anti-bacterializing for the past two hours, hoping I’d get a chance to hold your little bugaboo. God, he’s beautiful. Don’t worry!”

That was my cue for a light laugh. I was relieved, sure, at the drop in anxiety in the room, but also I had a tendency to laugh when nervous. I did not know what I was doing, or how to fix this. So I chuckled, and choked myself a little bit, and watched my boy in this unknown woman’s arms, biting my lower lip and at a complete loss for my next step.

Chapter 3

Jack

My nephew? Keith’s baby? Keith had a child? Wait. Hold on, just a minute. My little brother was a dad. He’d had a son. I could feel my own eyes burning—goddammit, Keith, why did you have to die? And that this woman, this beautiful woman, who was my brother’s baby-mama, the mother to my nephew, should show up here—this week of all times—to present him to me? Fucking hell.

I was not going to cry. I mean, I didn’t do that. There was just something in my eye. I took off my shades and rubbed my face, getting a grip.

Okay, so maybe I jumped the gun with ordering the woman out of my office before hearing her out. I’d own that.

The kid had a loud set of lungs. Apple didn’t fall far, I guessed, presuming the woman wasn’t lying. If that was really Keith’s son. But there was no question in my mind now—I needed more information. I needed more time with her to hear her story, to see if what she said was true.

Could we do a test? I had no idea if that was even possible, to see if this baby was my nephew. I mean, I knew they could do paternity tests, but uncle-ernity? I just had no clue. But it was definitely worth looking into, to find out.

Once I was sure I had gotten my eye problem under control, I looked up front, expecting to see nothing out of the usual, but hoping…ah! She hadn’t left yet. Ha. She didn’t get very far at all, did she? Nope. I could only see the top half of her head, this time looking up with a kind of strange look in her big, brown eyes. It was clear she had been crying, but now there were no tears, and her expression was caught somewhere between wonder, confusion, happiness, and lost.

Trini, on the other hand, looked…maternal and ridiculously happy. Well, that was new. She had the baby in her arms and was smiling and cooing at it, rocking her body to soothe the kid, I guessed. Trini liked babies. Who knew?

I slowly made my way to reception, resettling my sunglasses on my nose to shield the glare from the picture windows. Damn, but my head was still pounding. There was too much going on.

I leaned against the partition wall in the doorway and crossed my arms over my chest, just taking in the blonde on the loveseat. She really was gorgeous. Everything about her was soft-looking. I knew already that she had some backbone, and a good bark when riled. But it was nice to observe this other side for a minute—to see her more relaxed as she gazed at Trini enjoying a moment with the baby.

Her eyes slowly shifted over to me, and there went the moment. She stiffened her spine and stood up, watching me for any indication of a renewed attack. I wasn’t going to give it to her.

“You’re still here,” I said.

“As you see.”

“Maybe we should start over. I’m Jack, as you know. You are…?”

“Oh. Yeah. Um, Ellie. I’m Ellie Garrett.”

Slowly, with trepidation, she made her way forward and took my extended hand briefly, and then everything was suddenly hot.

It was like a lightning bolt had struck between us. My eyes flared, and my body went into automatic pilot. I actually started to get hard, just from that tiny little contact. She dropped my hand too quickly, and her face flushed again. I had noticed it the first time, in my office, but was too busy in my head to really process it then.

I watched her for a second, then looked over at the baby, reminding myself that she was—or rather, might be—the mother of my brother’s baby. Therefore, for what seemed like far too many reasons to count, she was not an option, despite the attraction. And I knew for sure that it was mutual. No way did she not feel that heat with me. But I wouldn’t go there, not with her.

Damn shame.

“Okay, Ellie Garrett, would you like to come back to my office, and we can talk?”

“Yeah, Jack. I’d like that.” She gave me a little smile. Wow. I really liked her smile. I liked what it did to her face. I wanted to see more of that. And I liked hearing my name from her lips. I liked her lips. I liked her voice—soft, a little bit husky, but smooth.

No. This was all wrong. She’d said she needed my help. Well, we’d have to see first about figuring out how to tell if that baby really was Keith’s, and then go from there. Hell, I hoped it wasn’t. I mean, it’s not because I didn’t want to help her. But I couldn’t see a way to spend time with her without wanting her, and if she was Keith’s baby-mama for real, then wanting her was a dead-end, and I wasn’t into self-punishment.

On the other hand, if this really was Keith’s baby, that would be…astounding. Amazing. Incredible, and wonderful. I’d have a little part of my brother, living, breathing, here. It was really too much to process.

I caught myself staring at the baby. I think I’d also been staring at her, at Ellie, too. Good thing I was still wearing my shades. My brain today was really on slo-mo. I glanced back at Ellie. “Well, come on back, then.”

I held the door for her as she gathered her bag and her baby, then followed her back to my desk. Trini actually pouted before she let the kid go. Today was OTT bizarre.

Once she had settled herself in the chair, and I in mine, I just sat there looking at the baby in her arms. Ellie knew I was trying to see Keith in him, but I couldn’t. The kid had dropped off to sleep, and it just looked like a baby—any baby. What the hell did I know about babies? Answer: nothing. They all just looked like babies to me. They were completely interchangeable.

I figured it was time to get things moving.

“Okay, so, here’s the deal. I don’t know you. Keith never said anything to me about you. Sorry, but that’s a fact. Did he know you were pregnant? Did he know about this kid? I think he would have told me. So, how do I know that what you’re saying is true?”

She’d come prepared for this, and that quickly became obvious. “There is a test they can do now to check for uncles and nephews, and it’s so specific, that if it’s positive it usually comes out with a ninety-nine plus percent accuracy rate.”

Whoa. This was interesting.

She went on. “It’s a DNA match specifically targeting the baby’s and uncle’s Y-chromosomes, so they don’t even need my DNA to rule out the mother’s part of the mix. They’ll only be comparing your two Y chromosomes. Yours and little Petey’s.” She was looking down at her baby with a little smile—mother in love—and fortunately missed my grimace.

“Petey? That’s his name? You mean Peter, right? Jeez, Petey.”

She looked back up. “Yes. His name is Peter, but I like Petey, for short. I sometimes call him Petey. He likes it. It fits.” She was getting her back up about it.

“Easy, there, woman. Calm down. Peter is a man’s name. I don’t know what Petey is. I’ll call him Peter, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Fine. You call him Peter. Whatever.”

She side-eyed me and sighed deeply. Damn, that was a nice sound. I liked how it made her chest rise high. Her tits were phenomenal. Well, they would be, I figured. She’s probably nursing, so yeah. But…wow. Nice. Really, really nice. I wanted to bury my face in her cleavage, to weigh and massage her breasts in the palms of my hands, to tweak her nipples and taste her skin…

“…so if you can afford it, we can get right on that, we just need to order the kit and…”

I tore my eyes away from her chest. “Wait, wait, what? I kind of missed some of that.”

She smirked. “My eyes are up here, dude.” She gestured to her face with her free hand.

“Can I help it if I was admiring a beautiful thing?”

“Oh, and he’s a charmer, too. It’s my lucky day.”

“Maybe it is, baby.” I wiggled my eyebrows at her, and she blushed some more and looked down—and then I cursed myself again. I had no business flirting with this woman, especially if she was the mother of Keith’s baby. Damn, I had to get myself under control.

Getting back to the point, I repeated, “So we do this test first, right? You okay with that?”

She didn’t look thrilled—I got the feeling there was something more she wasn’t telling me—but she nodded shortly and directed me to a website for the testing lab.

After placing the online order, I didn’t let her off the hook. Leaning back in my chair, I leveled my eyes on her across the desk. “So, what aren’t you telling me?”

She looked surprised, like she thought she was being sly and that I wouldn’t have noticed. She had a lot to learn about me. I didn’t get played. If she thought she could fool me, she had another thing coming.

“I…I don’t know what you mean…” She fidgeted with the baby blanket, which didn’t need adjusting. The kid had fallen asleep.

“Get real, babe. There’s something.”

She flinched at ‘babe’—oh, no, was she one of those feminist ballbusters?—but otherwise kept her mouth shut. Pursed, in fact.

“Okay. Be like that. When do we get these results?”

“In about two weeks, I’m pretty sure. So, the kit should arrive tomorrow…I guess I’ll see you. We’ll come back here in the afternoon, okay?” She started to get her shit sorted again, and looked like she was beyond ready to leave.

Oddly, I didn’t want her to go—not just yet. I wanted a few minutes of…I wasn’t sure. Maybe just more time with her. I liked her presence.

Okay, fuck. I liked her. I was totally attracted to her—which could prove problematic—but hey, I was a red-blooded American man. The woman was hot—beautiful-hot. I scrambled my brain for something to continue the conversation.

“Hey, listen, we should exchange numbers, in case anything comes up. I wanna know I can get in touch with you. And for you, too, if you need anything.” Damn, I was babbling. I shut myself up, but looked at her expectantly.

“Oh, yeah. Um, I don’t actually have a phone, so that won’t work. Um, I guess I could find you here at the shop if I need you, right?”

“You don’t have a phone? Who doesn’t have a phone? It’s basic life and security. You’re a mother, woman. You gotta have a phone. Fuck.”

She was ready to go, so I stood up and started following her through the shop. “Yo, Trini, I’ll be back in a while,” I called out as I caught up to Ellie and put my arm across her shoulders, pinning her to my side so she couldn’t just run away. No way was she going to up and disappear on me now. Not like this. She didn’t have a phone. WTF.

“Is this a money issue?” I looked down at Ellie, but I mostly just got a view of her hair and phenomenal cleavage next to the baby on her shoulder.

“Um…yeah, right now it is.” Clearly, she was not excited to share the reality of her financial straits, but she was smart enough not to try to lie to me about it. She had said she came to me because they needed my help. I figured it had to be money. If Peter really was Keith’s son, I was more than willing to do what I could. Scratch that—I’d be damn proud to do it.

“All right. I’ll take care of that, first thing. We’ll get you a phone, right now. Shit, I came in on my bike. Where do you live? I’ll go pick up a phone, bring it over to you.”

By this time, we were outside the shop and headed down the sidewalk toward where I assumed she had parked her car. She stopped, though, and turned to me, taking a step back at the same time. She would not meet my eyes. “Um, that’s really nice of you. Petey and I can just wait here, in my car, if it’s all the same to you. You don’t have to go more out of your way.”

She gestured to a silver mid-eighties Buick sedan that had not seen a good day in decades. The thing was a clunker on its last hope and prayer. I got suspicious, and my voice went hard. “Tell me where you’re staying, Ellie.”

“Just outside town. It’ll really be easiest if we just wait for you here, then we’ll get out of your hair.”

That was not good enough. I stepped in really close to her and leaned down, putting my mouth to her ear, and whispered, “Ellie, I’m going to ask just one last time. Where. Are. You. Staying?”

Several ominous moments beat the time in my ears like a drum. Her scent was filling my nose, right near her neck, and I think she swayed a little bit. Damn, I was getting hard just being this close to her, but I would not back down. She needed to know that.

I could feel her answer before I heard it, and I could barely hear it at all when she whispered back, “In the car.” Her head was hanging low, and I about saw red.

“No. The Fuck. Way.” I was glaring her down with anger and incredulity. How the hell did she think that was an okay place for her to be caring for her little baby—living in a goddamned piece of metal, parked on the edge of town? “No you’re not, not anymore, babe. Hand me your keys.”

Chapter 4

Ellie

I was so ashamed and embarrassed to tell Jack about my temporary living situation—if you could even call it that—that I didn’t see it coming when he suddenly had my keys in one hand, my arm in his other, and he was steering me toward my ugly, rusty, smelly car.

I put Peter down in his rear-facing car seat—and once again, like a daily mantra, wished blessings on the hospital and local police department for making sure I had one, gratis, before they would let me take him home. Once I had Peter tucked and belted in, Jack stood his ground by the opened driver’s side door and indicated that I should take the passenger side.

“I’m perfectly capable of driving my own car, thanks. You just direct me where I’m going.”

He deadpanned, “You’re cute.” Then he folded himself into the driver’s seat and shut the door, leaving me no other option without making a scene. I figured there were probably bigger battles to be won down the road, so I shook my head and went around the vehicle. He was such a man.

To my private chagrin, this turned me on even more. I mean, yeah, I’m a feminist. I’m an independent woman. I don’t know why Jack’s take-charge attitude turned me on so much, but it did. It said something about his confidence, his sureness. On him, I found it sexy.

Okay, truth: I was finding everything about him sexy. He defined the word.

Once I was in and belted up, he took off, with way more care than I would have expected. I looked at him in surprise when he pulled to a full stop at a stop sign that was completely lacking in convergent traffic. Considering his biker bad-ass looks and disposition, I’d have expected him to roll through the stop, at best. He caught my look.

“What? There’s a baby on board. Safety first. Always.”

Aw. I didn’t think he had it in him. I smirked at him with appreciation.

“So where are we going, then?” I asked, fidgeting with my sleeve.

“My place. It’s not huge, but I got a spare bedroom, so from now until further notice, it’s your place, too. No way do I let a new mama and baby sleep in a car, let alone a shit piece of junk like this. Where’d you even find this boat? It’s scrap metal.”

“It belonged to one of my grand-uncles. He babied this thing. Lucky me, I inherited it when he passed.”

“Grand-uncles? What is that?—No, don’t tell me. Sounds complicated. So he died in, what, 1989?”

I laughed. “Close, but no—more like 2005.”

He nodded. “Sorry for your loss. You do know, though, that you should’ve traded this in, in 2005, too, right?”

“Yeah, I’m aware. It’s just…it never really got high on the priorities list. It still runs. We do all right. And anyway, it’s not for much longer. I’m working on a way to get better sorted.”

It was true, but there were a lot of variables I was really not sure about—some of which may or may not have depended on Jack himself. But there was no way could I make a judgment call on that this very first day we met—so I’m not quite sure my voice rang with confidence when I laid out that claim.

He shook his head again. “Woman, from what you’ve shared so far, you do not do all right. Don’t pretend with me. Straight-up. Do not try to sell me any shit. I will not be buying it.”

And there went the humor from the car. The rest of the ride was silence.

After about a ten minutes’ drive, he pulled up to an adobe house with a Spanish tile roof. It wasn’t huge by any means, and the front yard was mostly red sandstone gravel and rocks divided up by cement drive- and walk-ways.

There were a few hardy bushes and smallish cacti and aloes in front of the house. I wouldn’t have described the place as gorgeously landscaped, but it looked tidy—even kind of cute in its way. It fit well into the neighborhood, which was similarly presentable. Nothing was lush or decked out, just solid and safe. It looked nice. And I hadn’t had nice in what felt like a long, long time.

Jack was waiting patiently for me to gather Peter and his stuff when I asked him to pop the trunk and grab the Moses basket I had found at a thrift store, which he did, then let us all in through the front door. He hadn’t lied—there wasn’t a ton of space, but it was well-laid out, and the living area was filled with a comfortable-looking leather sofa and armchairs. It had the requisite bachelor pad huge flat-screen, assorted surround sound speakers, DVR, and two handfuls of remote controls that would surely take me a good half-hour to figure out.

The room, like the small front hallway and the decently-sized kitchen, was littered with stuff: fast-food detritus, pizza boxes, beer cans and bottles, hard liquor bottles, glassware, socks, T-shirts, and jeans... It was like all of his belongings had been released into the rooms by some insidious interior tornado.

It was the stereotypical bachelor pad complete with nasty odor. I worked hard not to roll my eyes.

He led us back into a short hallway off the living room, which featured four doors. We went to the room farthest to the right. It turned out to be the aforementioned extra bedroom with an under-inflated air mattress, air pump, stackable milk crates with assorted tools and papers stuffed in, random barbells and weights, and a contraption that looked like a vertical half-bench with ankle stabilizers a few feet below.

I eyed it suspiciously. Jack caught my look and narrowed his eyes and said, “What?”

I asked. “That isn’t…?”

Now he was full-on smirking. “What do you think that is? Do you think that’s my crazy sex machine?” He puffed himself up and came in close, angling behind me, and lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Does that idea turn you on, Ellie?” He drifted the back of his fingers along the side of my left breast, light as a feather.

I suddenly had trouble breathing, and I had no idea how to respond. Was he serious? Because, yes, that turned me on! But there was no way in hell I’d tell him that. What was happening?

My eyes must have been like saucers in my tomato-colored face. I’m sure it was a fabulous look. But I was glued to the spot; I was totally turned on by his nearness, and the potential of sex that filled the air around us. Still, I needed to answer him, and I wouldn’t allow my body’s response to take over for my brain. “How am I supposed to know what you’re into, Jack? I just met you! So, you’re saying that’s…” I let my sentence hang, allowing him to take this where it would go.

He eyed me speculatively. “No, it’s not, but it has potential, doesn’t it?”

I blushed again, hard. He smirked. Damn the man.

He stepped away. “It’s actually a gravity inversion table. Feels awesome. You should try it. You’ll love it.”

Whew. Well, that sounded a whole lot better than a sex-slave table, or whatever those things are called.

Although, being honest with myself, the idea of any kind of sex with Jack had me getting hot and wet. I’d never tried much kink before, but if that was what he was into, I couldn’t say that I wouldn’t be into trying it with him. Oh lord, I had no control of my thoughts—or my body—around him.

But that was not what I was here for. Jack was being more than kind by sharing his own home and giving me and Petey a place to stay, a place to call our home, for however long we would be here. Jack—difficult as he was—was manna sent from heaven, and I was grateful to my bones.

I was also baby-mama to his brother’s son, and if that didn’t murkify the waters, I didn’t know what else could. Despite the fact that what Keith and I had shared was in no way a romance for the ages. It was a one-off, a night of comfort and convenience. Of letting off steam. Of protection, gratitude, and solidarity. And ultimately, of friendship.

So sex with Jack had to be off the table. That included both this literal inversion table, and the figurative one.

Jack was a no-go zone, sad as that might be. My hormones since getting pregnant were still at ragingly high levels, and I’d been celibate for months and months. So being around Jack was like notching my horn-o-meter up to one thousand percent.

Yeah, I was totally screwed.

Unfortunately, that would not be in the literal sense.

Suddenly, he was snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Yo, babe, you here? You listening?”

Oh jeez. I had completely zoned out into my thoughts. This happened sometimes. I blamed lack of sleep.

I tried to swat his hand away, but he was fast. I ended up looking even more ridiculous. So, naturally, I blushed again.

And again, he noticed. He stepped close enough to dip his head and whisper in my ear, “You gotta pay attention, babe. I get that you want me—hell, I want you, too—but let’s deal with first things first, yeah?”

Damn, he smelled good. And Oh. My. God. Did he…?—He did not just say that. My jaw dropped and I blushed even deeper. By now I was cooked lobster. At the same time, I was desperately memorizing the moment. He just said he wanted me, too. Right? Right? He said that! So maybe…

NO! Terminate operations, Ellie! Gah, this was not supposed to happen. I forced myself to control my face, control my breath, and step away from the hot man.

Thankfully, I had Peter to use as a distractive device. I knew I was a horrible mother. Good mothers don’t use their babies as props. But my sweet little Petey was sleeping—he would never know.

So I turned to where Jack had put the Moses basket on the floor, and single-handedly dug through my shoulder bag for a couple extra small blankets to line it with, before carefully setting Peter inside, snug as a bug. He was breathing normally and his color looked good. Satisfied, I finally turned my attention back to Jack, who had been patiently watching me deal with the baby. When I looked up at Jack’s face, he appeared pensive.

“Okay. I am going to go pick up a phone for you. I’ll bring it back, then I gotta get my ass back to the shop. Don’t plan on leaving the house for most of the day. I want you here when I get home. Don’t mess up my shit, but, uh, make yourself comfortable, and all that. You need anything before I go?”

I shook my head. I had everything I’d need for Peter and myself in the bag or in the car.

“I’m off. Be back with the phone. You got a preference?”

Again, I shook my head. “Just don’t spend a lot of money. I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay you back.”

“Woman, I’m paying for it. I told you that. Open your ears and catch up. This one is on me.”

How did he manage to be so generous and sound so mean at the same time? This man rattled me.

“Okay. Thank you.”

He looked at me a moment, then just said, “Yeah.” And he left.

Ooookaaay.

I took another quick tour of the house, just getting my bearings with bathrooms, closets, and living spaces, then set myself to work. I refused to be a free-loader, so I began with a search for large trash bags and got to work.

About forty minutes later, I was sorting through the laundry, making piles in the living room, when Jack came back with a plastic bag. He looked around bemusedly, as though surprised to see actual furniture and tabletops there, and a corner of his lips tipped back, but he didn’t speak to it. He didn’t even say, “Thanks.” Which kinda ticked me off, but at the same time, he was the one doing me the huge favor, so I gave him a pass for this lack of consideration—this time.

He tossed the phone company bag on top of the laundry pile in front of me and said, “You’re all set. You gotta plug in and charge up the phone first before it’ll work right, so do that now. When I get back later, we’ll hook you up with numbers so you’ll be good to go. For now, I’m at the shop, rest of the day. You got the house phone here. Shop number’s programmed in, just hold down the five. Questions?”

I shook my head, and he was gone again, as quickly as he had come in.

I opened up the bag Jack had tossed down for me and discovered the newest model of the smartphone I had been eyeballing for years. These things cost hundreds of dollars, and Jack had bought it for me like it was nothing. I could feel the tears begin to build up again, but forced them down as a silly, hormonal reaction to his kindness.

After plugging the phone into the wall charger, I went back to the laundry, and the cleaning, and then digging through the kitchen to cook something for dinner. Finding nothing there, I wiped down the counters one last time, then removed myself to my room to check on my boy.

I finally—finally—felt like we would be all right.

Chapter 5

Jack

I got home later than I had planned—six days out on a bender, and it was like the whole world had descended on the shop. Invoices, bills, supply orders. Rinse and repeat.

Grath had taken care of the most urgent crap—again proving his worth as my brother and closest ally in the MC. We were good like that. Grath and I had joined the Iron Bandits MC the same year; pledged together, rookied together. He was an alternative man through and through: huge muscle-y motherfucker with badass written all over him, but he was actually an incredible artist with the ink, and a gay man to boot. At first I hadn’t been sure what to make of him, but the better I got to know him, the more I loved just hanging out with him. He was funny as fuck and loyal to his bones to the brotherhood. We were lucky to have him in our ranks.

The afternoon had basically sucked. Yeah, I’d been busy, but I really didn’t want to be there. I still had a headache from my days and nights with the bottle. I needed more sleep, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Ellie—hot, beautiful Ellie—and Peter, and Keith, and my head was spinning. I couldn’t make sense of any of it. I needed answers, and she was the only one who could provide them.

Realizing that there was likely no food in the house, I ordered a pizza for delivery and picked up some beers before heading home.

When I finally got there, it was like stepping into an alternate universe. I had seen earlier that she was straightening up my mess—which was excellent, as I was likely to wade through the trash for months otherwise. But she had really cleaned. Like, shiny countertops and sinks. Vacuumed carpet and rugs. Even the windows and my bathroom mirrors were missing their smears. And it all smelled fresh, like lemon. I started to feel better immediately. Who knew a clean place could do that?

But the woman in question, the angel of the evening, was nowhere to be found—at least, not in the common areas. A part of me fantasized that she was waiting for me in my bed, and I headed there first, half believing in the mental image of her naked between my sheets.

Of course, she wasn’t there. And I was a dumbass for even hoping that she might be.

I changed my shirt and then made my way over to the door of the second bedroom, knowing she had to be in there with the baby, silent though they were. I knuckled the door lightly, not wanting to wake Peter up, but loudly enough so if Ellie was awake, she’d have some warning I was coming in.

She wasn’t awake. She was curled up on the air mattress on the floor, which she had somehow managed to outfit with sheets and blankets and a pillow, with her baby tucked close in her arms. They were gorgeous together. I’d never been one to appreciate mothers and their babies before, but the sight moved me, somehow. Ellie’s hair was unbound and floated around her head on the pillow, the soft curves of her body phenomenally on display. Her face had lost all lines of stress.

She was amazing. I couldn’t help but stare.

After several moments, her eyes drifted open as if she sensed my presence in the room even in her sleep. It took her a minute, but she managed to get to a sitting position without waking the baby. She tucked him in with the comforter, placing a pillow between him and the edge of the mattress, and struggled a bit to get to her feet from the low ground.

“How long have I been out?” she asked. Like I would know when she fell asleep.

“No idea. I just got back a few minutes ago.”

“Oh, right. Um…” She looked around, a little bit lost. I figured her brain was still in sleep-mush mode. She was really pretty in her confusion. I was enjoying this a bit too much, and figured I had to shut myself down.

“I ordered us a pizza, should be here soon. You want a beer?”

“Yeah, that’d be good, thanks. And some water, too, if you don’t mind.”

“On it.” I left her alone, to follow at her own pace. She obviously needed a few minutes to get fully conscious again.

I got her a glass of filtered water from the sink, pulled two longnecks from the six-pack, and brought them all out to the living room. After the pizza guy came, I set the food on the coffee table and settled myself on one side of the couch.

Ellie came out not long after, her hair once again gathered into that high ’tail, and she wandered to the couch as if still in a daze. When she sat, she looked around as if she had no idea what to do next. I leaned forward, grabbed the water from the coffee table, and handed it to her. She took it two-handed, like a little kid, and guzzled it back as if she’d spent days in the desert.

Which, I realized, she basically had, living in her car in freaking Arizona. Lucky for her, it was only March, and the heat of summer hadn’t hit yet. But what she was doing with Peter was insane. Arizona would cook them up in the summer if they weren’t living in a real domicile with air conditioning. Plus, it was dry as fuck here, and she must have been suffering some level of dehydration.

First things first, I decided. “Eat up. We can talk after.” She nodded, and we applied ourselves to the food. It didn’t take long—after my day, I nearly inhaled a half of the pie in short time. She only ate half as much, but we were both done and ready for beers within minutes. Then I got down to business.

“How long you been living in that piece of shit pile of junk out there, Ellie?” I asked, trying to keep my anger from boiling over with just the thought of it.

“Not long, really. Just a few days. We’ve been on the road for most of it.”

“On the road. Huh. Coming from where?”

“Oregon. Portland area. I went back up there when…” she drifted off. I gave her a moment, but nothing else came out.

“When…?” I raised my eyebrows at her. The woman had some problems telling a story.

“Oh! Yeah, um, actually, I left Tucson really soon after Keith…” This time I knew she wasn’t going to go on. And I knew what she was going to say, but wouldn’t. So I finished her sentence for her.

“…after he was killed.” I forced myself to say those words. I never let myself avoid them, or use euphemisms that sugar-coated reality. I saw her flinch, but I didn’t have it in me to coddle her grief. I had too much of my own grief. And anger. I had a lot of anger about it.

“Yeah. After that.”

“How did you know him?—I don’t mean, I mean, obviously—” Fuck. I was babbling. I just wanted the full story.

Lucky for me, Ellie seemed to automatically know what I meant, and she cut me slack. “You know where he lived, that neighborhood? I was bartending at the Red Trick Pony, you know it? He’d come in sometimes, we’d chat. He was cool. We got along. Your brother—he was a really good guy, you know?...He was a really good guy.” Her voice faded off and it was clear she was drifting in a memory.

“Yeah, he was. So, what, you and he were together then? For how long? ‘Cause, I gotta be frank with you, he never mentioned you to me. Sorry if that hurts, but it’s true. So seeing you today, and with the baby, it’s all…it doesn’t make much sense. I need more. I know for a fact my brother was careful.”

“Yeah, well…I’m not surprised he didn’t mention me. Except maybe as a friend? I don’t know. We really were just getting to be friends. You know, we got on well, and just casually, at the bar. But, uh…” She took a deep breath, then looked me right in the eye. “Okay, this is a long and weird story, and I need you to just bear with me through it, okay?”

“Got all night, Ellie.” Why in the hell was she being so hesitant? It was all I could do not to yell out, “Just start talking, woman!” But that seemed like it might be counter-productive. I shifted my jaw around to ease my tension.

“Okay. So, it started in Portland. I don’t want to give you all the nitty-gritty, but I left there about a year ago, the first time. Well, not quite a year. In May, last year. Came here, to Tucson, got a place, got a job, started working, met Keith. That much you know. Thing is, I ended up bringing extra baggage with me, that I did not intend to bring. This guy—Brian—he’d been someone I knew, or had known, back up in Oregon. We had dated briefly, but things got weird, and then bad, and I broke it off really quickly, but he…”

“Let me guess. He didn’t want to let you go. Was he stalking you? He followed you here?”

“Yes, and yes. And one night at the bar, at the Pony, he saw me talking and laughing with Keith—nothing was even going on—but Brian, he got upset about it. And he got in Keith’s face, which was just stupid of him—you know how big your brother is—ugh, sorry! …was…” Her face started to crumble, and she turned away.

“Yeah, Ellie. I know. It’s okay. Go on.”

She took a minute, then picked up again. “Well, Brian was spouting off a bunch of ugly shit about me, just verbal vomit about Keith being my next victim and me being a … you get the idea, right? Just a whole lot of unpleasantness. And Keith, even though he really didn’t know me, he got protective, and he stood up and just loomed over Brian—who’s not that small, he’s way bigger than me, but still, nothing compared to Keith—and Keith just laid into Brian. Didn’t take much, and Brian was on the floor. It’s all kind of jumbled now, in my head. I’m not sure how long Keith was hitting him, but by the end of it, Brian’s face was all messed up, and he was humiliated. I’ll be honest, I was kind of glad to see it, and I was super grateful to Keith. Brian had it coming. He’d had it coming for a long time. I was really, really grateful to Keith. It was the first night in a bunch of months that I felt…safe.”

I got it. So I looked at her. “I read you.” I nodded. “I know my brother. So, following that, Keith woulda made sure you got home and…”

She nodded back and gave me a tiny little smile. “Yeah. And…But we weren’t about that. It was just that one night. He was really good to me, and after following me home and making sure I was okay, I asked him in for a drink, as a thank you. And we did some shots, and then…” She clearly didn’t want to finish that sentence, either.

“Yeah, babe, I got the picture. But it still doesn’t all add up yet. Keith was careful—”

“Condoms break sometimes, Jack. You must know that.”

“Oh, fuck. Yeah…You weren’t on the pill?”

“Hi, personal question. And no, I wasn’t. But I am now. Any other intimacies you need me to share right now?”

“Whoa, don’t get your back up. It’s a fair question. Go easy.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m not really used to answering to anybody else. You’re right. You deserve to know what’s what, and why. I want to be honest and open with you about it. I do. You just surprised me. I don’t even know why. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, babe. It’s okay.”

We sat there a few minutes, each in our own thoughts. I was the first to break the silence again.

“So, after that night, you and Keith never…”

She shook her head with gusto. “No. Definitely not. No. Just that one night. Not that it was bad—but it wasn’t—no. No.”

She was flustered, and it was damn cute to watch. Her color started rising again, and she was fidgeting with her sleeve again. Damn, this woman had some tells. It was close to hysterical, just to see her squirm.

But I was relieved to hear that she and my little brother had not been in the midst of some crazy big love story, so I let her off the hook easily. I just needed to clarify one more thing before I’d be happy to end this conversation. “What about Keith? Did he want more with you? Or did he feel the same as you felt about the whole thing?”

She chuckled. I looked at her expectantly, my eyebrows raised.

She leaned in close to me, and shared, like it was an insiders’ secret, “His exact words were, ‘Ellie, that was really great. Let’s never do it again.’” And she laughed, right into my eyes.

Chapter 6

Ellie

It felt so good to laugh about Keith with someone who actually knew him—even more than that, someone who had loved him—his own brother. It was a real connection with Peter’s father, despite Keith’s death.

I felt a thousand times lighter, remembering how Keith and I had laughed and hugged after his perfect assessment of our crazy mistake.

It had ended up being a crazy, beautiful, scary mistake—because: Hi, Peter!—but for the very same reason, I would never in my life—ever—want to change the outcome. Despite all the fear and the problems and the worries and everything that had come with Peter’s appearance in my world, he was now the center of my life, and I could not regret the connection with Keith that gave me my son.

Jack didn’t share my laughter, but his eyes smiled back at me. He looked relieved, and he leaned in toward me as well. He got so close, I almost wondered if he was going to kiss me. Of course, Peter chose that moment to announce his awakening, and Jack immediately backed off. I got up to tend to the little bawler.

I’d been in my little room with Petey through half of his nursing session when Jack appeared at the door, one arm raised above his head, leaning against the frame as he silently observed the ritual of breastfeeding. I knew the door was open and I hadn’t taken a blanket to cover myself and Peter’s head as he fed. It wasn’t that I was an exhibitionist, but if I was truly to make myself at home here, this is how I would do it. I didn’t want Peter to feel like his feeding was something to hide—I wasn’t sure if that would affect him subconsciously in later life or not. But also, I maybe wanted Jack to come in, to see us, to see me.

I knew it was probably a bad idea, but I was really turned on by him. I didn’t want to shy away from him or from this connection we seemed to have, even though we’d only known each other for less than a day. It seemed my body was making a choice to leave every door open between us—figurative and literal.

Jack appeared appreciative. After a few moments, he straightened up and entered the room, coming to a stop only when he was right at the side of the bed where he squatted down and reached out a hand to touch Peter’s cheek. I watched the wonder in Jack’s face. He’d probably never been this close to a nursing baby before—hell, he’d probably never been this close to a baby of any kind before.

This whole thing must be rocking his world. I needed to remember that, and to cut him some slack if he ever got really uptight or if the stress of having us around blew up in some way. I’d had months to prepare myself; Jack hadn’t even had twenty-four hours.

Peter petered out on my nipple, and I knew he was done, so I shifted him up to burp and covered myself. Jack backed up but didn’t turn his eyes away from me. He was wearing an appreciative smirk, and I smirked at him right back.

I patted Peter’s little back until he let out the extra air. And some regurge—ah, the joys of infants. Jack was back to watching us from near the door and looked about ready to go back out to the living room when I shocked the hell out of him.

“Hey, come and take Petey so I can get up.”

“Whaa…no! No. I don’t do babies, Ellie.” He looked me straight in the eye and shook his head firmly. Yeah, that was not going to fly.

“Well, maybe you didn’t do babies before, but you do now, buddy. Come on. It’s easy. Just pick him up in your hands so I can get up. Only thing you need to be careful of is his neck and head; he’s not strong enough yet to support it himself, so you gotta make sure you have your fingers behind him, helping him out.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” He seemed suspended by the doorway, unsure whether to come back or run away.

“Come on, Jack. I need your help. It really isn’t hard. He’s not going to bite you, I promise.”

“I’m gonna crush him.”

“You’re not gonna crush him. Just pick him up under his arms, put your fingers behind his neck to support his head. Super easy.”

He did it. The hot huge badass biker came back over to the bedside, leaned down, and gently took Peter face-to-face from my outstretched hands. He held him in a dangle at some distance from his own body, with Peter clasped firmly in his hands just as I had described. He followed my instructions to the letter, which was great since beyond that, he showed absolutely no instinct for childcare.

I forcibly repressed a chuckle, not wanting to undermine his fragile ego. Once I got to my feet, I scuttled around the two of them and moved straight into the living room, not worried about how far behind me Jack would be. I could hear Peter begin to air grievances about the sudden loss of bodily contact, and Jack didn’t wait to air his own, either.

“Take him, already, would you?”

I used my empty water glass as an excuse to lengthen their time together, bringing it back into the kitchen for a refill. “Oh, calm down, Jack. Just sit down with him and let him lay on your chest. He just wants body contact. You’re fine.”

Jack’s face reflected his anxiety, but he reclined on the couch with his head propped up and did as suggested, and we were both rewarded with an almost immediate cessation of baby noise. Peter laid his cheek on Jack’s pec and settled right in. Jack’s face looked funny, as he peered down at the little one with a mix of distrust and bemusement. But when I reentered the room with my water and sat back comfortably on the other half of the couch, Jack pinned me with a piercing look, clearly nonplussed at my lack of maternal possessiveness.

From my vantage point, though, I was totally winning. The image of big tough hot Jack with my baby boy cuddled close on his chest was To Die For. It was so sexy and beautiful, and I just gazed at the two of them in a kind of blissed-out haze for a minute—or two, or three. Really, I have no idea how long it lasted.

Eventually, I felt a nudge on my leg, and I came to with a little jump.

“Wha—?”

“You went to la-la-land,” he said with a smirk. I blushed, knowing he must have been able to track the turn of my thoughts easily. He knew how good he looked. And now, he knew how good he and Peter looked together. We had both just learned that the combination, to me, was kryptonite.

I forced myself to look away, just to get my equilibrium back. Water glass to the rescue.

By the time I returned my attention to Jack, I caught him gazing down at Peter with a kind of wonder in his eyes. I might have even gone so far as to say adoration. Peter really was beautiful, in his way. He was soft and sweet and warm like a little bean, and he inspired love in everyone he’d come across to date.

Jack, it seemed, was just as susceptible as the rest of us. His face had softened, and his body had relaxed under the small weight and warmth on his chest, and his hands had naturally rested lightly atop Peter’s back, securing him in place. As proud mommy to my little warrior, I loved seeing it.

“You look so good together.” Apparently, my mouth was in a sharing mood—the words just popped out, no filter.

“Yeah?” Even Jack’s voice, in its grumble, seemed warmer. Happier.

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about him.”

Wow. Jack had just given me the opening I’d had no idea I needed, but hadn’t known how to find.

“Peter’s…Peter’s a miracle.” Already I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, but there was no way I was going to get through this tale without crying some, so I didn’t try to fight them. I grabbed some paper napkins from the pizza delivery on the coffee table, and began to share what Jack should know.

“He was born early—really early, at thirty-two weeks.”

Jack’s face was a blank, and I realized that that number meant nothing to him.

“Okay, so normal pregnancies last for forty weeks. He was eight weeks early. That’s close to a full two months. He was only four pounds, one ounce, and he lost weight after he was born. He was so tiny. But he’s eleven weeks old now, so he’s doing pretty well, considering. But…” The tears started spilling, and I looked away, trying to control my breathing enough to go on. This was always the worst part, and I hadn’t yet learned how to tell it well.

“But…? Ellie, spill. That was one hell of a ‘but’. He looks okay to me, it can’t be that bad.”

“Peter has a congenital heart defect. It was discovered when he was four weeks old—he was still in the hospital. He’d been having some trouble feeding, sweating through his onesies. God, I was so scared. But they did a bunch of tests and figured out what was wrong. There were some issues with the left side of his heart, and they were able to fix the worst part with a surgery, but he’ll have to go back for more operations as he gets older and bigger and stronger. So it’s not over, not really. But he’s a fighter; he’ll make it. He’ll make it.” My tears poured. Peter would make it, but I wasn’t so sure about myself. I was still a wreck, every time I let myself think about it.

Jack looked torn. His hands pressed Peter with even more warmth, more care now. More love. I don’t know how I could see that, but I could. At this point, Jack’s eyes were on me, and he looked pissed off and worried and frustrated, all at the same time. Like he didn’t know how to keep hold of Peter, but he was also obviously unhappy about my crying, and wanted to do something to counter it. I couldn’t tell if it was a general uneasiness with a woman’s tears, or a reaction specific to my sob story and that of my baby.

And damn, but I hated that I was so stereotypical. Sob story. It was my reality, though, and if it made me cry, I’d own it. I had earned these tears, damn it.

“Okay, Ellie. I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe…if this little guy is actually Keith’s—and I want to believe that he is, I’m telling you that right now—if he is, you have to know I’ll do anything I can to help you out. Long haul. I’m all in. Damn, how long is that test going to take? When’s the next surgery? Is he okay? He’s not going to suffocate on me or anything, is he? Should you take him from me now? I don’t want to hurt him.”

“No, no, he’s fine. He’s okay. He’s good right now. Look, he fell asleep on you. He’s good where he is.”

“I think you should take him back. Like, now.” Jack looked agitated. Actually, that was an understatement. Jack looked about ready to jump out of his own skin.

I got up and gathered my little sleepy bean into my arms and kissed his sweet head. The moment Jack was free, he jumped up and started pacing the room, running his hands through his hair. I watched him for a minute, then moved toward my room to put the baby down.

Jack body-blocked me, gently putting his hands on my shoulders and protectively keeping space for Peter between us. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m just gonna lay him down in his basket. It’ll be easier for him to sleep where it’s quieter. He wakes up really easily.” And I disappeared for a minute into my room. Petey was totally out, so I was back in less than a minute.

“You’re sure he’s okay in there? What if something happens and we don’t…we gotta get one of those radio things. Shit. Where do we get one of those radio things for babies?”

“You mean a baby monitor? They have ’em all over the place. We can pick one up tomorrow if you want.”

“Yeah. Okay. We gotta do that. Might go tonight, get some stuff. That’d be good, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Jack. That’d be really good.” I smiled at him. This man was turning into a hero before my eyes. I knew it was dangerous, all these feels I was having toward and about him, but I couldn’t help it. I was blown away by the leaps in generosity and kindness he was showing. Maybe Jack would be the answer...

“…so I can get that, too. And you probably need diapers, right? Anything else? Hey. Hey! Yo, Ellie, babe. Come back. You wandered off again.”

“Oh, jeez. I’m sorry.” I shook my head, realizing that Jack had sat down at the dividing bar between the kitchen and living room and was making a list. Man of action. I liked that.

“Check it out. Add on whatever you think you need, and I’ll make a run. No point waiting, right? Store’s open. You finish the list, I’m gonna hit the head and then gone. ’Kay?”

“’Kay.” And I applied myself to the list, adjusting it mostly for sizes and best-use frugality, as had been my MO for most of my adult life.

When Jack came back from the bathroom, he took up the list, then came right up to me, front-to-front, and put his arms around me in a huge bear hug. I was a little bit shocked at first, not expecting that at all, but he held on for so long that I finally relaxed into it and breathed.

He smelled so good—damn, I felt a flush of damp in my panties again—but he also just felt so big and strong, like a boulder that wouldn’t let me fall, and I breathed him in deeply.

Eventually, he pulled away a few inches, looked deeply into my eyes, and swore, “He’s going to be good, Ellie. He will.”

I don’t know if he was saying it for my sake or for his own, but it was both a promise and a prayer. It was deep. I nodded, and he slowly leaned in and kissed my lips.

His lips were warm and soft and firm all at the same time. He didn’t try to deepen it, but he didn’t make it quick. It was so sexy, just a small taste, a testing of the waters. But the intention behind it was more than that—it was a kind of confirmation that I wasn’t alone now. There was an empathy, a togetherness.

I took full advantage of the moment and breathed in his scent—I’m pretty sure he did the same to me—which only confirmed that this man and I had some serious chemistry together. He smelled and felt amazing. I wanted the kiss to go on forever.

But just as I was about to open my mouth to him, he lifted his mouth away, ending the connection.

His eyes stayed on my mouth for several moments, and then shifted up to meet my eyes. We both just held that look, still breathing one another in.

Then his arms fell away. He picked up the shopping list and, pointing to the notepad on the counter, muttered, “You need me, my number’s there. Put it first in your phone.”

Chapter 7

Jack

I couldn’t stop thinking about the baby and about all that Ellie had been through with him already. I’d only known them for just over a week, but they were both already setting in deep under my skin. This whole day at the shop was dragging like molasses—just like every other day since they walked into my shop. I only wanted to be back home, with them, spending time and…I don’t know. Just spending time.

As far as Ellie went, I was clear on one point for certain: I wanted her. She was sexy as fuck. She was beautiful, soft, strong, fiery, funny, smart, and fucking hot. Just thinking about her got me hard. I was spending a lot of time forcing myself to think about post-workout athletic socks and shoes, in an attempt at calming my dick down.

Thoughts of Peter—of that tiny little humanoid body, that soft little head and fisting hand—filled the rest of my time. I still couldn’t tell if he looked like Keith, and it kind of pissed me off that both Trini and Grath, those bastards, laughed at me and said I was blind not to see the resemblance. How the hell could they see it? Babies all looked alike. Period, end of.

But I was starting to really believe it, that Peter was Keith’s, and therefore, in a roundabout way, mine. Mine now, because Keith couldn’t be here. Yeah, definitely mine.

And that made Ellie…mine. Not quite sure on what grounds, but I was definitely feeling some strong possessive and protective instincts over her, too.

And when I thought about Ellie being mine…yeah, the sex thing again. Damn, she was hot. And there was definitely a firestorm of chemistry between us. That would play out. I knew it, I felt it, I wanted it, I was gonna make sure that happened.

Except…aw, fuck. If Peter was Keith’s, thus mine, then that meant that I needed things with Ellie to be copacetic, long-term. I knew I had to wait to see how the test came back, and make sure that no matter what, sex with Ellie was not going to interfere with my place in Peter’s life, if it came back positive. Because no way would I let there be any interference there. If that boy was of my blood, then they were stuck with me. I was gonna be hands-on and all in.

Damn, and that right there was enough to throw my mind back to Ellie, and images of my hands on her, and myself all in, then out, pounding in, sliding out. Fuuuck. I wanted her like no one else I could think of.

“Jack! Dude! Jack, nine-one-one!” Trini was running back to my office, her eyes wide and her phone in her hand.

I snapped to attention. “What? What the fuck, Trini? Where’s the fucking fire?”

“It’s Ellie. Or it’s the baby. Or, I don’t know! But it’s at your house. Something is happening at your house, and I don’t know what it is, but…”

I was on my feet at ‘Ellie,’ grabbing my keys and scanning my office for my wallet, sloshing papers off my desk and causing a general disaster, but not giving a damn about it.

“I’m out.” I was practically running through the shop to get to my bike.

“Call me with an…” I heard as the door swung shut behind me.

No more than six minutes later I pulled up to my place, which already had a small bunch of my MC brothers’ bikes parked out front in a less-than-organized fashion. This was not the Iron Bandits’ way, and I knew my brothers had my back, that they had rushed to get here just as fast as I had.

I didn’t see fire or smoke, I didn’t see ambulances or cop cars. I didn’t see Ellie. I didn’t see anything off.

I did see my front door open on its hinges, and our chapter road captain, Hops, ready and waiting for me there.

“Come on, Jack-o. It’s good you got here.”

“What the fuck is going on?” I needed info, stat.

“First, you gotta know, everyone is all right. No one got hurt. Girl’s fine, baby’s fine. You might-a told us you were a family man at some point, caused some shock with the boys. But they’re fine.” He chuckled, clearly trying to relieve my tension, but I still lacked the necessary deets, and I was getting more and more pissed off by the moment.

“Drop the shit, Hops.”

But I didn’t wait for a reply.

“Grath! Ellie! Where the fuck are you?” I yelled as I stormed into the house, on a mission to locate Ellie and see for myself that she and Peter were all right. I found them in the living room: Ellie pacing around, trying to calm a very fussy Peter, and Grath and the rest of the guys—four of them—hovering over and around her, looking none too pleased with the situation.

“What in the hell is going on here? What the fuck happened?”

Hops was following right on my heels, and took the lead. “Grath got a call from your woman here. She was cryin’, goin’ on about some guy cagin’ her in the house, had a baseball bat and a gun. She said she thought he’d use it. Baby was cryin’, and she locked herself and him in your bathroom, back o’ the house, in case the guy got in. Didn’t have her phone on her, used the one from your bedroom to call. As soon as Grath took the call, we were all on our bikes, got here fast as we could. Didn’t catch the guy—he was gone before we got here—but he left a message. Grath called Trini soon as we found your woman, made sure she was okay. That’s it. ’S all I know.”

I turned to Ellie, a little out of control with raging questions that demanded better answers. “Why the fuck didn’t you call me?”

She flinched, but also straightened her back as much as she could with the baby still in her arms. This woman had grit, I had to give her that. “I hit 2 on speed-dial, that’s who I got. You want me to call you in a repeat situation, you put your cell on your speed-dial.”

Okay. That was fair. “Good answer.” I gave her the point, and she relaxed again with a huff.

I still had a thousand more questions. In order to get her attention focused on me and keep it there, I took the baby into my hands and set him up by my neck, and looked her straight in the eye. “Ellie, talk to me.”

She finally stopped pacing, and while I held the baby—who had, indeed, been surprised enough by my quick grab and his new situation to calm the fuck down and start mouthing my collarbone—she took a deep breath and began filling in the blanks. “Yeah, so, it was that guy I told you about. You know, the one who followed me from Portland? I thought he was gone, out of my life, finally. I haven’t seen him in months. Months and months. Since I left here last summer, you know? But he found me here, somehow. I don’t know how, Jack. I don’t know how he found us.”

“Okay, babe, so he found you. Here. What did he do?”

“He was outside, yelling, calling me all kinds of names. You know. He knows about you, or…I mean, he knows I’m living here with you. He knows about Peter. I think he’s been watching us, watching the house. He knew you were gone today, he knew I was here alone with the baby. And he was livid. He said he was gonna take care of you, and then he’d take care of my baby, and then it’d be just me and him, the way it was meant to be.”

She was turning green, and looked about ready to puke. I shot a look at Grath, and he saw it, too. He called out to his partner, Stephan, “Water,” and took Ellie’s hand, pulling her toward the bathroom in the hallway. It took her a moment to see where he was leading her, and she shook her head and pulled out of his light grasp.

“No, it’s—I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I’m not going to lose it. I swear.”

“Okay, honey. But maybe you should sit down, yeah?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Grath and women, man. He never failed to connect easily.

She sat on the couch, took the proffered glass, and sipped gingerly. I took a seat right next to her, put my freer arm around her, and she leaned into me and Peter, burying her face between Peter’s chest and my own.

I could feel all the guys’ eyes on us, could sense some surprise in the room, but I had no time for that shit.

I put my nose in Ellie’s hair, and could feel calm finally come into my own body, smelling the coconut shampoo she favored and the sweet vanilla scent that drifted lightly around her. We formed a unit, the three of us, and having them both in my arms was a comfort I had never known before.

Eventually, I pulled back. “You’re okay, Ellie. He’s gone, right? You did right, made the right calls. You did great. He fucked up, tipped his hand, and now we know he’s out there. We’ll find him. And we’ll take care of it. I will make sure he does not get to you and Peter. I swear it.”

“You can’t say that. You can’t make that promise. You can’t be with me, with us, all the time. That’s not fair to you, and it’s not right. So don’t make that promise. I don’t accept it.”

I was about to argue with her, but she shook her head firmly and simply said, “Stop it. I mean it, Jack. Stop it.”

This woman. So fucking stubborn.

Still, the story lacked completion. I dug. “I still don’t have the whole picture, babe. What made him leave, if he was so ramped up to get to you today?”

“I screamed at him that I was calling the cops, that they’d be here any minute. He’s allergic to the concept—I think I told you that before, right? Cops freak him out. So, he’s yelling and muttering out there like the complete deranged psychopath that he is, and about a minute or two later he threw a rock through your bedroom window and took off. He must have figured I’d gone to the back of the house—I’m really sorry about your bedroom—God, I was so scared he’d made up some kind of a bomb, or that it was a grenade, or something. I heard the window crash, and just huddled in the bathtub for forever, waiting for some huge blast. Thank God it never came. They said it was just a rock. A big rock.”

Grath caught my eye again, and tipped his head toward my room, then walked in that direction. I kissed the top of Ellie’s head, did the same to Peter, and handed him off to her to cuddle on her own. When I got to my room, I found the window glass shattered all over the carpeting, and some shards had reached as far as the bed itself. What a huge pain in the ass that was gonna be to clean up, but at least neither Ellie nor Peter had been touched by it. That woman was smart. Awesomely smart. Thank Christ.

Grath reached behind me, to the top of my dresser cabinet, where a grapefruit-sized rock had been placed, probably by one of my club brothers. “I thought you should see this before she does. Not sure if you want to show it to her or not. It came with this wrapped around it.” And he handed me a dirty, wrinkled receipt. I turned it over, and read the note.

You made me do it once. I’ll do it again and again. For you. For us. Forever.

What in the hell did that mean?

Chapter 8

Ellie

When Jack and Grath returned to the living room, their faces were hard. I knew his bedroom was a mess. I felt guilty, even though I knew it wasn’t me who had thrown that damn rock. But there was glass all over, and it would take a massive effort to get it cleaned up. Beyond that, a new window wasn’t going to come cheaply, either.

Brian’s reappearance today hung over my soul like the weight of the world. On top of all of my worries about Peter, I did not need to be thinking about the cray-man again. What was worse, he had really freaked me out today, with his bat and his gun—and just when I had finally been feeling safe, here in the cocoon of Jack’s goodwill.

But now I felt like everything was back on the line. Would Jack kick us out? He didn’t need this shit knocking on his door—hell, crashing through his window. And according to all media outlets, scary stalker behavior escalates. Today’s events were not a sign of good things to come.

Jack and all his MC guys went into the front hall and had some kind of manly circle-huddle away from me and Peter. I didn’t mind. It was his house, those were his people, and I was the center of the problem.

By this time, Peter was beginning to fuss again. Poor little guy was hungry. So I settled us both down with the nursing pillow, tossing a blanket over my shoulder and his head, just in case all the guys came back in again, and began thinking.

I mentally prepared myself to get booted, frantically searching my mind for where to go and what to do next. Two things seemed clear: one, that I should get out of Jack’s house ASAP, so I didn’t bring more crazy to his life; and two, that I had to go far away, to a place where Brian would not be able to track me and Peter again. He was clearly mentally unhinged and posed a clear and present danger to us both.

Fight or flight. Considering Brian’s obvious violent tendencies and my experience with them, I was going for flight. I had a baby to protect, and Peter had to be my first priority.

I heard the men all making wrap-up noises, and a bunch of ‘later’s, and sensed the house clearing out. Jack returned to the living room alone, and came to sit down on the coffee table right in front of my seat on the couch, his elbows on his knees. He looked me straight in the eye.

“Tell me what you know about this guy, Ellie.”

“Can you just give me a few minutes before we get into it, Jack? I don’t want to talk about it while I’m feeding Peter.”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah.” He looked around and wandered into the kitchen. I figured he was getting a drink. If I hadn’t have been nursing, I would have requested a stiff one for myself, too.

After Peter had had his fill, burped, and drifted off again, I put him down in my room, made sure the monitor was on, and returned.

It was time to lay it all out for Jack. He deserved to know what a shit storm my life was and have the choice to opt out fast, if he was smart.

When I reentered the living room, Jack was ready for me, and he offered me a beer. I took it.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Talk to me.”

“Okay, well, I only dated him for a few weeks, as I said, more than a year ago. I was bartending in Portland, he came in, we seemed to hit it off. I liked him at first—he was funny, witty, attractive. He’s a computer geek. I think he’s actually a hacker, but I don’t know that for sure, just my impression. Definitely into IT.

“After we’d been out a couple of times, I just started feeling like he was getting really into my business—too much. He started asking me where I was going, who I was seeing, how I spent my hours away from him. It felt invasive, suffocating. And then, one night, he didn’t like that I had been flirting with one of my regulars at the bar—I didn’t know he was even in there, that night. I didn’t see him. Anyway, he showed up at my place after I got home and he got really in my face, and when I yelled at him to back off, he hit me.”

Jack’s hands fisted, his jaw flexed, and his eyes narrowed. Wow. He was pissed. Seeing that, I knew he wasn’t going to enjoy this any more than I did, but I needed to get it out. I hadn’t talked about this since that night, and it felt good to be able to share it with Jack, even though it was awful to revisit. Somehow, I felt like sharing with Jack was important. So I kept talking.

“It was full on, fist to cheek. I went down, hard, and he stood over me just seething, and that was it. I kicked his knee as hard as I could, and he went down too, and I—my head was all jumbled, my cheekbone and eye were pounding, but I was trying to just figure out a way to get him gone, ya know? So I scrambled up when he went down, and I grabbed my phone and called nine-one-one and then tossed it somewhere so he couldn’t end the call, and I just hoped that cops or someone would figure out where the call came from—you know, through GPS or location services or whatever.

“He…he’s got this issue with being around cops. I don’t know his history, but there were a bunch of red flags that I didn’t really put together ’til it was too late—that was one of them. Twenty/twenty, right?”

Jack grunted and squeezed my leg to get me to keep going.

“Anyway, as soon as he realized who I had called, he was ready to bolt. He was still yelling at me as he left, calling me a bitch, saying I’d pay and that I had no idea what he was capable of, or who I was messing with, and that I was making a huge mistake, but that I’d learn better soon.

“I just kept yelling at him to get out, and that it was over, I never wanted to see him again. And then—this is the weirdest part—he said he knew I loved him, and he loved me too, and we’d work it out, and he’d see me in a few days, after I’d had time to miss him.

“Finally, he left, and I was shaking so hard I didn’t even get up to lock the door behind him. I didn’t want to move.”

Jack still radiated pissed-off badass energy, and it was actually comforting to me. It somehow made it easier to tell this craptastic tale from hell.

“Later, I heard sirens approaching, and then a knock on the door and the bell rang, and it was the cops. And I think an ambulance. I wasn’t really thinking well, you know? But they got his name, said that I could press charges, checked me out. I was okay, though; I didn’t need to go to the hospital or anything. Just hit the one time. So anyway, they left after that, I locked my door, and that was it.”

“Hold on, Ellie. Did you press charges?”

“No. Maybe I should have, I don’t know. But I just wanted it to be over, you know? I just wanted the whole night to go away.”

“You should have pressed charges.”

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda. I didn’t. You want me to go on, or do you want to fight about it?”

“Babe…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Go on.” When his eyes were on me again, I continued.

“Well, after that night, I didn’t see him for a few weeks. I thought it was over. Thought that was the end of the story, and good riddance.”

Jack had been paying close attention, and he grunted as he ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking. “Okay. He’s got some payback way overdue, then. This is the same guy my brother beat up that night you told me about, right?”

I nodded.

“Good. Good on Keith.—So, what more do you know about Brian? Full name, height, weight, contact info, anything you can give me, any details about where he might hang out or what things he’s into. Everything you know.”

“Jeez. You do know you sound like the cops right now, right?”

He only lifted an eyebrow at me, and his nose twitched. I guessed he didn’t love that comment.

“Okay. Brian Patrick McAfee, I’m pretty sure he’s thirty-one, maybe thirty-two years old. He’s around six feet tall, brown hair, brown eyes, wears glasses, black plastic frames. Man-bun, scruff on his jaw.,,”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up and he was clearly repressing a laugh. “Are you describing one of those hipster dudes? That’s what you go for?”

“Shut up. I lived in Portland, Jack. Fuck you. Do you want me to go on, or are we done?”

He squeezed my knee, still smiling. “No, babe. It just surprised me; shouldn’t have, I guess. Go on. Don’t get mad.”

I narrowed my eyes at him for a moment, then let him off the hook and went on. “Okay. He’s a mountain biker, outdoor-enthusiast. Likes to camp, climb, hike, all that stuff. So he’s pretty fit, strong. He comes off really confident, good-natured—or at least, he used to. I don’t see that at all anymore when I think about him. But that’s how he might seem to people who don’t know him. Um, what else…?”

“Does he look like anyone famous? Give me an idea of his face.”

“Oh, okay. Um, maybe a little bit like a younger, darker-haired…oh, that guy that was the president in Independence Day. What was his name?”

His mouth ticked up. “Bill Pullman?”

“Yeah, that one. But obviously, younger. And fit.”

“Okay, that’s helpful. Good. You got anything more? Contact info? Friends he might have in the area here? Employer info?”

“No to the last, he’s a freelance consultant, or that’s what he told me. I deleted and blocked his number ages ago. I know it started with area code 503, but I don’t remember the rest. I deleted him from my contacts, so I don’t have anything else on him. And no about the people in the area here—that’s one of the reasons I picked Tucson to move to. I was trying to start all over, somewhere I didn’t think he would come. He always said he loved the northwest climate so much, he didn’t want to ever leave it. Tucson, I figured, was the exact opposite of Portland. The jerk came here anyway. Lucky me.”

“Okay.” He thought for a minute, rubbing his own scruffy chin. Pot, meet kettle. But I kept that thought to myself.

“Hops said this guy had a gun. You saw it? Could you identify it?”

“Yeah, I saw it. It was a handgun, black. I didn’t get a great view of it, but it resembled what you see on TV, like what cops and feds always carry.”

“Okay.” He was nodding, thinking to himself. “So, go back to last year for a minute. After he followed you down here, do you know where he was staying? You didn’t leave as soon as he showed himself then, so I figure you didn’t feel totally at risk, right? Or am I missing something?”

Gah! There were so many parts to this whole story, and I wasn’t sure how best to tell it. I was starting to get tired and frustrated with this whole thing. But having gone this far, I knew the best thing to do would be to just keep barreling through, and give Jack every detail he needed. I felt like Hillary Clinton at the Benghazi hearings.

“You’re right, I didn’t leave. I couldn’t think where else to go, and he’d followed me this far, I figured there was no getting rid of him by running, and I just hoped I’d convince him of my complete disinterest and rejection better if I stayed. So I stayed. It might not have been the best move, but I liked it here, and I didn’t come up with any other better plan.

“Can we move along to another thing now? There’s another part of this that figures in, that I haven’t told you about yet. But you should know.”

“Jesus. This is like a fucking novel.” Jack shook his head.

“I know, right? I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Get it out. Tell.” He shifted onto the couch, put his arm around me, and pulled me into his side, getting us both more comfortable for the next part of the download.

“So…Brian’s a hacker or something, right? I’m pretty sure he hacked into my email, because after I broke things off with him, my grandmother died. Like, a few weeks later. It was a year ago this month.”

“Sorry for your loss, Ellie.”

“No, don’t—it’s okay, we weren’t close. I didn’t even know her, really. She and my mom—they fell out years ago, when I was a baby. Well, probably long before I was born. But they cut off contact with each other when I was a baby, so I have no memory of ever meeting her. I only really learned about her last year, when Mom got the call about her death. Mom told me, and we figured we should go to the funeral, be respectful. Ha. Well, I wanted to be respectful; Mom wanted to dance on her grave. I think half the reason I went was to stop Mom from doing something crazy like that.

“My mom is…eccentric. Total seventies’ hippie, you know? Earth woman, dances around bonfires, drum circles, big beads.”

Jack started laughing. “I think I got that picture. And let me guess, your grandma, she’d have been a woman of the fifties, right? Conservative…?”

“Exactly. Anglican church, sweater sets, pearl necklace. The whole nine yards. They were oil and water.”

“That was why they didn’t talk?”

“I think the thing that really broke it between them was me. Mom was way into free love, you know? I didn’t grow up with a dad, but I had a lot of loving uncles. Still do. They’re awesome. But I didn’t grow up in a typical nuclear family situation. My grandmother hated my mother for that, not being willing to name a father on my birth certificate, not marrying, not being respectful, not going to church, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Got it. So what’s this all have to do with Brian?”

“Getting to that. Turns out, Grandma is loaded. Or really nicely well-off. Family money, East Coast richies—think, like that movie, Philadelphia Story? That old one, with Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn, you know it?”

“Babe. Not into old movies like that. But I can follow your plot. So who inherits all this fabulous wealth? Your mom?—No. It’s you. Yeah?”

“Yeah, but only on condition. This is classic. You ready? I have to be married for six months before I get the money. And if I turn twenty-eight still single, the money goes to charities, and I get none of it. Which I would be totally fine with—really—except that now, with Peter and all of his medical bills coming in the future, I just think—I wish…” I lost words.

Jack was serious now. “I see what you mean. I get that. I totally do. You need that money, you’re right. You really need that money.”

“Yeah, but here’s the kicker. I’m pretty sure—and I have no idea how, other than that he hacked his way into my email to see the stuff my grandmother’s lawyer sent me—Brian knows about the trust and the marriage requirement. And I think that’s why he’s latched on to this idea that he wants me. I think it’s why he was stalking me.”

“Not sure that stalking usually works that way, El.” Jack shook his head. “I always thought it had more to do with obsession, like psychotic love or something. Which, gotta give it to him, he’s got good taste. You are hot. You’re beautiful. You’re smart. I see the logic.”

He gave me a light squeeze around the shoulders, then poked me in the ribs and chuckled. I jumped and yelped at the surprise tickle, and he cracked up. The jerk.

“This isn’t funny! Stop it!”

“Come on, you gotta laugh a little, babe…But maybe you’re right, maybe there’s also a fantasy about the money tied in with it, too. Makes you that much more attractive—a future with you plus full bank accounts. Yeah, I could see that. No wonder he’s holding on like a dog with a bone.”

“It’s so reassuring that you see logic in his madness. Thanks, Jack. You make me feel so much better.” If looks could kill, he’d have his arm in a sling, at least.

“Aw, come on. I’m on your side, you know that. I’m just trying to make sense of this asswipe.”

“Okay, fine. So now you know. That’s pretty much the background on Brian.”

I was lying. There was another part, but it hurt, and it would hurt Jack, and I really didn’t want to go there yet. It was too much.

“Gotta ask, Ellie. When do you turn twenty-eight? When is this cut-off date?”

This was the crux of why I was here, now. What Jack was asking now gutted me. This was my shame. But I had to tell him, and needed to tell him, because desperate times called for desperate measures. And I was desperate.

I freaking hated being desperate.

“My birthday’s April second. In about two weeks.”

“Two weeks. Two weeks? This year? Are you telling me you have two weeks to get married, or all this money is gone?”

“Yeah. That’s what I’m telling you.”

“Wow.” He was looking at me, but I don’t think he was seeing me. He went up in his head somewhere. I let him go. It was a lot to sink in.

After several moments, I put my hands on his knees and shook them slightly. “Jack, you okay? Lost you there for a few.”

He gave me a tiny self-deprecating smile and shook his head as if getting rid of the cobwebs, and chuckled without mirth. “Yeah. I’m back. I’m with you…So, got any ideas, what you want to do?” He peered at me inquisitively.

I couldn’t hold his gaze. Today had turned all my hopes upside down, and I didn’t feel like I could ask him to be our more-permanent-but-still-temporary savior. I couldn’t answer.

“Ellie, come on. Ask me.”

My eyes shot to his. Was he saying…?

“Ask me, Ellie. I’m going to say yes. Just ask me.”

“Why would you do that? Knowing that there’s a crazy man who throws rocks through your window and is armed and dangerous, with you in his target sights?”

He laughed. “You don’t know me very well yet, baby. I am not intimidated by that motherfucker. I look forward to giving him what he’s got coming. Don’t you worry about that. Ask. Me.” He pulled me to my feet in front of him, caging me closely in his arms.

“I know it’s a huge ask, Jack. But we can treat it like a business deal, if that seems better to you. A temporary agreement, just until the money comes through. And then, of course, we can do it so you get a fair portion when we end it, to make it worth the trouble for you. I only need to have enough so I can try to cover what I’ll need for Peter, coming up. Okay? We can even draw up a pre-nup to make sure it’s fair and we’re both covered for when it’s over, all right?”

His eyes had been narrowing through my roll-out of ideas, and his face got hard. “Fuckin’ ask me, Ellie.” For some reason, he seemed pissed off now. I wasn’t really sure why, but I could read the emotion with ease.

“What did I say? Why are you mad?”

“You talking about wedding and divorce in the same breath? Nice. Real nice work, Ellie. Business deal. Fuck.” He wasn’t looking me in the eye now, just staring a hole into the wall over my head.

“How can you be surprised? What is this, Jack? A romance? What the hell? I don’t get why you’re upset with me now…you can’t tell me you thought when you woke up this morning, that we’d be talking about getting married tonight. Since when did you become a traditionalist?”

He turned away from me, rubbing his face then pulling his hands through his hair. Then he laughed.

“I just...yeah, okay.” Oh, I love a man who can apologize. Are they all incapable of it, or just the ones I’m lucky enough to know?

Still, it was a big score for me that he bumped me the point. I mentally puffed on my nails and shined them on my chest.

He got his head back together apparently, because he came back to face me again, standing close. “Okay, you want to get papers, work it out, I can be down with that. And I’m not looking for a payday out of this; I need you to know that. I take care of myself, and I take care of my own. I don’t want your money. But you need it. That’s what matters, and that’s what this is about. So. Ask. Me.”

“Will you marry me, Jack? For Peter? And just for six months?”

He flinched a little, but he didn’t get mad again, and he didn’t turn away. He held my eyes, and he said, “Yeah, Ellie. Let’s get married.”

Chapter 9

Jack

I dove in. I couldn’t help it.

I’d been thinking about her mouth and her lips and her taste almost non-stop ever since that night—it seemed so long ago—when she first moved in. Damn, that was the day we’d first met, too. It was actually only nine days ago. I had forced myself then to keep it light, to back off fast, since there was too much at stake to fuck it all up with sex right off the bat.

But hell, we’d just agreed to get married. I knew a shot when I saw one, and my patience was at an end where she was concerned. So what, if the marriage was only so she could get her money? I wanted her—badly—and I knew, from all of her many blushes and the way her body always seemed to lean into mine, that she wanted me, too. Why prolong agony? We could take what we wanted. No harm, no foul.

She didn’t resist. Not even a little bit. I swooped down on her, and she arched into me, and opened her mouth wider to accept my tongue. She tasted like honey beer and heaven, and her scent filled my nose, and it was like a drug I couldn’t get enough of.

Our tongues played together, getting to know one another and then pulling back and forth, acting out what out lower bodies were craving. There were grunts and moans. My hands started wandering over her body, finally able to be filled with all her curves and softness.

Fuck, but she was amazing. I needed more. I was hard as a rock, and I pressed into her belly so she could feel me, and know how badly I wanted her.

She gave right back, her arms clinging to me, her pelvis digging up, and I gave her a thigh to straddle, to help her along. Damn, she was hot. I could feel her damp heat already through two pair of jeans. Fuck. We needed to lose the clothes, ASAP.

I nudged her backward toward the couch and grabbed her tight in my arms, then lowered us both down to horizontal. She pushed my MC kutte off my shoulders and I shrugged it away. I stripped her top over her head and tossed it somewhere, then went right back in for more of her mouth.

Our teeth crashed and we both laughed, but we couldn’t stop or slow down. We were wildfire. I felt both high and more sober than I’d ever been, aware of her on every level, with every one of my senses tuned in.

Piece by piece, we managed to strip down to underwear—well, hers, really. I got rid of my boxers with my jeans. I didn’t see the point in doubling the effort. But I wanted to enjoy the reveal of her body.

She was gorgeous. Her breasts—what I could see of them—were just as amazing as I had imagined: full, round, and soft. Her belly was soft and curvy, her hips full, her thighs tapered, and her ass filled my hands phenomenally. I didn’t think I’d ever been this hard before in my life, and I was grateful to my core for finally getting the opportunity to be with her. I wanted to worship her with my body and mouth. And I was prepared to do just that.

I kissed my way from her neck down her chest, my hands playing with her breasts through her bra. It wasn’t a very sexy bra, but I didn’t care. She was a nursing mama, she wore what she needed to. I found the front latch and snapped it open, then peeled it off of her.

Her breasts were fucking beautiful, her nipples a deep pink and distended, hard, surrounded by pink areolas. I kissed them all over, as much as I could, and nipped her a few times in my excitement. I wasn’t sure how she would feel about me taking her nipples into my mouth, considering that’s how she fed her baby boy, and I wasn’t sure about whether or not it would be weird, but I couldn’t resist her, either. So when my mouth closed over a nipple and I gave her some flicks and rolls with my tongue, she moaned and strained against me. Seemed she liked it. I smiled and carried on.

This was heaven. I loved hearing her, tasting her, feeling her writhe and undulate below me.

A sudden thought entered my brain, and I needed to know the answer before I could allow myself to carry on, so I released her nipple, kissed both of her breasts again, and pulled back up so I could be level with her face.

“How long has it been?”

Her face fell, and she turned away from me, blushing again. This woman. So beautiful. But I didn’t want her feeling embarrassed or less-than—not now. I just needed to know the answer.

“Come on, baby. I just need to know how to take care of you. Tell me how long it’s been.”

“Since last year. I had a …”

“Shhh…Okay, babe. That’s all I needed. You’re on fire, you know that? I’m gonna take care of you.” And I kissed her mouth again before retracing my path to her breasts, this time giving the other one the individual attention of my mouth. My hand did its best to keep the other one happy.

She began seriously moaning and bucking under me, and I figured she was ready for more, so I slipped farther down her body, kissing her gorgeous stomach, her hip bones, around her belly button, and that sensitive V on either side where her legs met her torso. I gave her a few nibbles here and there, too. I couldn’t help it.

Finally, I focused on what she wanted. Still leaving her panties in place, I ran two fingers along her center, from front to back, giving her enough pressure to push into. I could smell her desire, that incredibly sexy scent of woman and honey and dew, and I wanted her juices in my mouth.

But I wanted her desperate for me, and I knew she was getting there. Her hips shoved up and her panties were nearly soaked through. I fucking loved that. I shoved my mouth over where I knew her clit would be, and I bit down and sucked as much as I could, panties and all. She almost yelled out, and her hands were alternately flailing around and gripping my hair.

I toyed with her a minute, my fingers pressing on her entrance with interference play of the cotton, but finally I figured we’d both had enough torture, and I dragged the damn panties down her body, revealing her pink luscious center to my eyes, my nose, my mouth. She was dripping wet, and she was open, waiting for me, dying for me.

I didn’t make her wait anymore. I held her lips open with my hands on either side and lowered my mouth to lap up her honeyed juice in a long lick with the flat of my tongue, then sucked hard on her clit.

She was alternately panting, mewling, writhing, grabbing, arching towards me and away. I just kept at it, flicking my tongue, circling, sucking, kissing, licking. I added my fingers to the game, stroking her lips on the sides, up the center, dipping into her core, moving further behind, spreading her juices even to her ass. She liked that.

She liked it all. So did I. Damn, she tasted amazing, and she was so responsive that I almost came, just watching her get there.

And get there, she did. With my mouth suckling her clit and two fingers inside her, sometimes curving to tap and circle that sensitive spot behind her clit, alternately powering in and out of her entrance, I watched her unravel completely, until her whole body shook and she arched back and up, and I knew she had exploded. Her face, her body, her whole being flushed, intense with energy and satisfaction. She was phenomenal.

I gave her a few moments to return to me, stroking her a little more gently, kissing my way back up her body. Man, those breasts. I couldn’t stop myself from giving them both a few extra kisses, nips, and squeezes. So beautiful.

By the time I made it to her neck, she was regaining awareness, and was observing me with some humor. I grinned at her. She beamed back at me.

“You okay, baby?” I asked, wanting to be sure we were on the same page.

“I’m fabulous.”

“Yes, you are.” And she laughed. I did it right. I kissed her quickly on the lips, felt around for my jeans, dug in for a condom, and made quick work of putting it on.

She made a sound like a pout and I looked up to find her—yep, pouting. “What?”

“I wanted to take care of you, too. Your turn. I didn’t even get to…”

“Ellie, I just want to be inside you. So badly. Let me.” That was about the limit of my ability to string words together at this point. I knew she wanted to get to know me, to play with me, but I really had run out of patience. I desperately needed in.

“Come here, Jack. I want you in me. Come inside me.” Thank Christ.

I reached for a condom from my wallet and put it on. I was big, bigger than most. I knew this. But I also knew she was ready, and that she’d be able to take me, no question. Hell, she had carried a four-pound baby just a few months ago. She could definitely take me.

Still, I didn’t know if she was still healing, or had any lingering issues, although she had never said anything, and she seemed perfectly fine with everything so far. “Stop me if I hurt you, okay?”

“Just…come…here.” She took hold of my cock and guided me in, breathing in as I sank deeply into her. Damn, she felt amazing. Despite having given birth, she was still tight around me, wet and hot, like a stream of silk.

I groaned. She panted.

We kissed, our tongues entwining and dancing together again. I braced myself on either side of her with my elbows digging into the couch, holding her so she wouldn’t go flying north with my movements. I began with the intention to go slowly and smoothly for a while, to let her get the feel of me, to draw it out, even though my cock was screaming at me for release. A part of me wanted to be here forever, she felt so good.

But she urged me to go faster, with her hands, her sounds, her hips, and her mouth. I went faster. I went deeper. I went harder.

She was getting close again, too. I could feel her body arching back, could see it in her face.

“Yeah, come for me, baby,” I urged her. I slipped a hand between us, giving her the tips of my fingers to ride her clit. That was what she needed, and she took full advantage. She went wild, and it took her only moments before she cried out and came hard, shuddering and contracting around me.

I raced to catch up with her, losing the even rhythm and just pounding hard to reach my own finish. It came in an overwhelming crash, and I’m pretty sure I called out in a deep gust of air, then collapsed on top of her, cradled on her perfect softness, my face buried in the scent of her neck.

Chapter 10

Ellie

I felt like I’d had a complete body workout and massage, inside and out—which was not far from the truth. Sex with Jack was out of this world, even better than I had imagined it might be.

After I returned to myself and woke the massive beast up to get him to roll off of me so I could breathe—there’s only so long that it’s okay for a huge man to sleep on top of a significantly smaller woman—he seemed annoyingly ready to bolt away from me, but I didn’t let him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and wouldn’t let go, and told him, “Dude, I let you sleep on me. You gotta let me snuggle. Fair’s fair.”

He seemed surprised at my rationale, but he didn’t argue, and he even relaxed into it, supporting his weight over me on his elbows. After several moments, he said, “We had that coming for a while.”

“Yeah. We did.” I grinned, and he gave it right back.

Another minute or two more, then he gave me a quick, tight squeeze and said, “You good now?”

“Yeah. I am.” I was a post-coital wordsmith. Not.

“Good. I gotta get up, get rid of this thing.” I loosened my hold on him, he eased his way out of me, kissed my lips, and got up to toss out the condom. I collected my clothes and began re-dressing; he just pulled his jeans back on and left it at that.

I totally appreciated that. He was super easy on the eyes.

The rest of the night, we didn’t even talk about it—we just allowed ourselves to be. He had a couple beers, I took care of Peter when he woke again; it was like we were a normal couple. Which we weren’t, but kind of, we were.

We had just agreed to marry, so—even though it was for convenience sake, and would be a temporary thing—the sex had seemed like a natural and normal thing to do, to seal the deal. Not to mention, we had obviously both been dying for it. Our chemistry was off the charts. Bonus!

In any case, our bodies were finally sated after too many days of being on high alert around one another. Well, sated might have been too strong a word. Because having had him once, I wanted him more. But I was also really just happy with what I got. I felt really, really good.

He disappeared into his bedroom for a while to get started with the broken glass, and maybe a half hour later someone had pulled up in a pickup with a huge board of wood to cover the window from the outside until it could be replaced.

I cooked up one of my favorite easy meals for dinner. After boarding up the window, his buddy had left, and we ate together, talking of how best to deal with the glass on the bed. Jack decided he was going to buy new bedding; there were too many shards all around for him to be comfortable with sleeping on and amongst them. I fully supported this decision. The thought of all those slivers was disturbing.

He didn’t want to leave me home alone again with Peter, even though I told him we couldn’t stop our lives because Brian was an asshole. Regardless, after dinner the three of us piled into his shiny manly pickup and we went to one of those huge home stores for new bedding—like a family—which was funny and weird, and definitely fun. We kept cracking up. It felt good and right, too—which in itself, was probably not so great.

I had to be careful not to get too comfortable with having Jack in my and Peter’s lives. I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn’t a for-real or a forever thing.

I didn’t want Jack sleeping in that room until it had been thoroughly vetted in daylight for all shards in the carpeting and any that might be hanging around the bed, and I found it fairly easy to convince him to sleep with me on the air mattress for the night. It was just a size double, so we were forced to be close, which I had no problem with, although his feet were hanging off the bottom of the bed. He laid on his back, and I curled up to his side, draped over him, with my face pillowed on his shoulder. Every breath I took was deliciously filled with his scent, and I kind of blissed out on it quickly.

But in short time, his scent and skin and feel had my body turning on hot, which was problematic for me. I was concerned about getting too much into this sex thing with him, without being clear about what we were doing together. I definitely felt like we should talk—that phrase dreaded by every man ever born. So I didn’t want to say it, but I thought it.

“Hey, where are you? You suddenly got really tense. What’s up?”

“Oh. Yeah. Um, you probably…no, you know what? Can we just sleep tonight? It’s kind of been a big day.”

He chuckled. “Understatement of the year. Yeah, babe. You comfortable enough? This bed is damned small. I think it was made for…”

“Lilliputians. Exactly, Gulliver.” We smiled at each other, and I kissed the side of his neck. “Good night, Jack.”

“’Night, El.”

# # #

I floated through the next day like it was made of creampuffs. I felt delicious, and I kept catching myself smiling at nothing.

Peter still wasn’t sleeping through the night, so I had been up and down a couple of times, as per my norm with him. Jack seemed to sleep right through, the lucky jerk, but his body just curled around me each time I reentered the bed zone, as if spooning together was our long-time habit.

In the morning, I must have slept through Jack’s awakening and departure, because I woke up to my baby crying and an otherwise empty house. Within minutes though, Jack came in through the front door loaded down with stuff. He set a paper bag and a carry-tray with two coffees on the kitchen counter, plucked out one coffee and nodded at me. “Coffee, bagels, cream cheese. OJ in the bag is yours, too.” He then headed to me, kissed the top of my head, which was still rather foggy, and the top of Peter’s head, then headed to the front door again. “I’m gonna be right outside for a while, not going anywhere yet. Don’t worry.”

“Um…I don’t…mnaaa…’wake ’nough to worry. But good to know.”

He looked up with a smile and watched me stand there in my daze, and he laughed at me. Right in my own face.

Whatever. I was not processing yet. Let him laugh.

“Ellie, turn around. Go into the kitchen. Grab a coffee. Sit down. Drink the coffee. I’m right outside.”

I recognized wisdom, and did what he suggested.

He was banging around the outside of the house for the better portion of the morning, and at some point I wandered out to see just what he was up to. Turned out, he was installing a security system, complete with a bunch of cameras, movement sensors, an alarm box, and a couple of panic buttons for easy access in multiple rooms.

The man was thorough and action-oriented. It kind of turned me on even more. How did he keep doing this to me, ramping up the vibe? He wasn’t even doing it on purpose, it was just him.

I began to think I was in way over my head with him; his very being was an aphrodisiac to me. I would have to tread carefully from here on. Peter needed his uncle through his whole life, not just these first six months. I had to get my head clear. Immediately.

Jack finished installing the system around lunchtime, and he toured me through all aspects of the system and the codes for activation, et cetera. It wasn’t rocket science, so I had it down quickly. He praised my aptitude with, “Sharp cookie. I like it.”

I smirked at him with the rejoinder, “As a tack, sweets. I got good genes.”

He purposefully misunderstood my comment and, leaning to the side, checked out my denim-covered butt. “Yeah, you do. Nice ass, too.”

I swatted his arm and laughingly danced away from him. He was too magnetic for my own good.

After lunch, sure that I was now ensconced in a safe-as-it-could-be zone, Jack took off for the shop, so I was on my own with Peter until night. Making sure the baby was clean, fed, breathing well, of good color, and tired out, I laid down myself to catch some much-needed z’s. I never seemed to get enough, and it was a daily test to see how many little naps I could score. After yesterday’s crazy scary and crazy incredibly awesome events, I was dealing with emotional exhaustion, too. 

I was gone in two seconds, flat.

Chapter 11

Jack

“Yo ho ho, he’s baaaack!” Ah, the sweet trills of Trini’s voice clanged in my ears.

“Watch it, Treens. I sign your checks.”

“No you don’t. I have direct deposit.”

I side-eyed her, and continued to the back of the shop.

“Jack-o, check this out.” I redirected to Grath’s station to see his latest masterpiece, a full-sleeve free-hander of spiral-wrapped text in some seriously old-school font. I couldn’t make it out for my life.

“What is that?”

The happy but pain-dazed client garbled, “‘To be, or not to be…’ in secretary han’. Izin it fabuloush?’” It was fabulous, but her own speech wasn’t.

“Nice work, man.” And I tipped my chin to Grath, who tipped his back at me and continued wiping her arm down.

Finally, I got back to my desk, and collapsed into it.

What a fucking crazy twenty-four hours: the fire-drill, the rock, the Brian story, the Peter story, the crazy grandmother trust fund, the marriage thing, and the sex. I couldn’t decide which I should be thinking about more. I wanted to focus only on the sex—by far the best part. By far. But the other issues, they each warranted some heavy-duty mind time.

I figured, first things first. Peter, the most vulnerable individual on the spectrum, had to come first. The test results were due to be available online at any time now. It had been more than a week since we sent them in, so I pulled up the website to check again.

Bingo! They were there. I clicked on the link and held my breath, praying they came out positive. I was actually nervous about it—my palms were a little sweaty—so I was glad to be doing this alone. Sure, maybe I should have waited so Ellie could see them, too, but this really wasn’t about her so much as it was just about me and Peter. And Keith. I needed to do this alone.

When the page opened, it was filled with graphs and metrics, and it took me a few minutes to comprehend what it was saying. Finally, though, I got it. Over 99% likelihood of avuncular relation. That was as close to certain as they could get.

I was Peter’s uncle. Peter was my brother’s son. I had Keith’s son—in my home, in my life. My eyes burned and felt a little wet, and I rubbed them down until the dust particles cleared out. I must have been just starting to fight a cold, too, ’cause I had to blow my nose a couple of times. Wow. I was an uncle. For real.

I suddenly knew how the Grinch felt on that hill, when his heart grew however many times bigger in a flash. It was all I could do to not go running back up to the front of the shop and jump up and down and run in circles and yell out my excitement.

But I was cool. I got it together. I couldn’t sit down, I couldn’t stand still. So I took off through the shop, filled with so much emotion I couldn’t look anyone in the eye, and made it outside without interruption. I started walking down the sidewalk, just to burn some energy, try to get my head straight again, when Grath caught up to me. He put a hand on my shoulder from behind, and I whipped around, backing up, needing space from everyone and everything.

He knew me well, and only put his hands in the air, like he was calming down some feral beast. Which, I guessed, I was.

“Whoa, dude. Chill. What’s up? What just happened?”

I took a few deep breaths. “I’m an uncle. Peter’s mine. No—Peter’s Keith’s son, man. Peter’s Keith’s son. I got Keith back. Peter’s mine.”

Grath’s eyes grew about twice as big, and a smile spread wide on his face, and he grabbed me in a bear hug I had no idea I needed. I felt awesome. As close to what I could guess a new daddy might feel. I felt incredible. I allowed the hug for a moment, then pounded his and backed up.

“Congratulations, man! Uncle Jack! We need cigars, man. So it’s official. Keith has a baby. You got Keith’s baby. That’s fucking beautiful.”

“Yeah. Right? It is. It’s fucking incredible.” I was still wrapping my head around it.

“It’s amazing. And you know for sure? How does that work?”

“Took a test last week, sent it into a lab, results posted online. Just saw ’em, right now. More than ninety-nine percent positive match between us. As sure as they can get.”

“Wow. That’s…I don’t even know what. Awesome.”

“It is.” I was nodding and smiling at him. “It is awesome.” And we laughed.

“You gotta go home, man. What are you doing here? Today, you just found out, you gotta go home. Spend the day with your nephew, and his mama.” He side-eyed me with a smirk. “I know that’ll be really tough on you. Painfully hard.” And he laughed at his own fucking joke.

I punched his arm, none too gently, and agreed. I should spend the rest of the day getting to know Peter better. Even though they’d been living in my house for over a week, and Ellie and I already planned to get married—soon, I reminded myself—I still had not really allowed myself to believe that Peter was Keith’s. I had wanted to, but at the same time I didn’t. Like, it was too much to hope for.

But now it was real. It was true. And I wanted to hold him in my hands, to feel his weight, and his little body warmth. I needed to connect with him. Priority one. Everything else, for the moment, fell away.

Chapter 12

Ellie

I heard Jack’s bike pull up the drive just as I was settling down with Peter for a feeding. I had him on the big nursing pillow, and I wasn’t well covered-up, but by this time, I had no modesty about it in front of Jack. He obviously enjoyed getting the eyeful, and I’m not sure how much of that was his liking to see my exposed breasts or watching the beauty that is a baby feeding from his mother. I didn’t really care, to be honest. I knew it to be a beautiful thing, and I was glad that Jack appreciated it, too.

What was strange was that Jack would be back so early in the day. So when I heard the door open, I called out, “What did you forget?”

“Nothing. Where are you?” And he immediately saw me on the couch, and pulled up short, looking at me and Peter in a kind of wonder. I raised my brow at him, but he seemed not to notice.

After a couple of moments of nothing, I asked, “Jack? You all right? Did something happen?”

His eyes met mine, and he seemed to snap back into the now. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m great. I’m…” He choked up, and his eyes got watery.

And I got worried. What in the world could make this man tear up? It was something bad. “Jack? Don’t scare me like this. What happened?”

“Nothing, babe. I’m fine. Just…goddamn it…something in my eye.” He rubbed at his face. Finally, he came into the room and joined us on the couch.

“Got some news today. I checked the test, online. Results were up. Positive. We’re a match. Peter… Peter’s my nephew. Keith’s son. For sure. He’s mine.”

Now my eyes welled up, realizing what a big moment this was for Jack, for Peter, and for myself. But mostly, really, it was about Jack. And Keith. It was huge.

I had known this to be true, and I’d hoped Jack would be moved by it, too.

For a moment, I felt awkward. Keith was back in the room, in a way that made me a little bit uncomfortable. I had, after all, slept with both brothers. Gah! This was such a weird situation. What a freaking mess.

But at the same time, it was kind of perfect. It was the best possible outcome, given the worst of circumstances with regard to Keith’s fatherhood of Peter and his far-too-early death.

Of course, I never had any doubt that the test results would show a positive match, but it was an amazing load off that the question had been answered for Jack, and that he could now fully accept Peter into his life.

I now totally understood the tears that Jack had tried to hide. He was such a stereotypical badass—and such a beautiful man. I wanted to jump in his lap and just hug him for ages.

Jack, too, clearly needed to close the gap between himself and Peter. He leaned into us, putting his hand on the outside of Peter’s head, stroking his soft cranium and cheek gently and with awe.

“He’s really Keith’s son. This is my brother’s blood.” He lost words, and just gazed at the baby, who by this time was fighting the food coma, slipping between sleep and suck modes at random intervals. I figured he’d probably had enough by now, so I handed Jack a baby cloth to drape over his shoulder and said, “Petey, your uncle is going to burp you now, honey.” And I smiled at Jack as he froze in horror, all deer-in-headlights. I had to bite my tongue to hold in my laughter.

“I don’t…I can’t…Whaaa—“

“Oh, come on, Jack. You’ve watched me do this a thousand times by now. It’s not that hard. Just pat on his back kinda softly but firmly, so the air bubbles in his belly come out.”

“Yeah, but he always gets sick. It can’t be good for him.”

“He just loses some of the food with it. It doesn’t hurt him. And it’s only milk. You’ll be fine.”

I firmly placed the baby on his shoulder and walked away toward my room, purposefully not watching as Jack figured it out. I didn’t want to cave in to anybody’s pleading eyes—truth is, I was thrilled to finally have someone who might share some of the baby-care responsibilities.

I loved my baby, to the core of my being and beyond anything in this world, but it was exhausting being a single mommy to a newborn with medical issues. I’m sure it was exhausting for every mommy, but I only knew my own experience, and I was so ready for an extra set of eyes and hands to help out.

I just prayed that Jack would be as good as his word, and really stay on board. I knew he could opt out whenever he wanted; he was only Peter’s uncle, not his father. Still, I wanted Jack to be a constant, actively-engaged father figure to my son. I really wanted that for Peter. That was my ideal dream, the thing I would do just about anything to give to him. And I wanted my son to know him, to grow up with that example, and in the circle of Jack’s family, whoever else they might be.

Several minutes had passed by now, and I didn’t hear anything from the living room, so I poked my head out to see what they were up to. Jack was lying back on the couch, holding Peter by his sides sitting on top of his chest. Jack was making some rumbly noises and funny faces, and Peter was watching his face closely, sometimes reaching out a little hand to try to grab at Jack’s chin or nose or lips. They were beautiful together, and I found myself tearing up again.

I returned to my room, leaving them to spend some time alone. I knew that soon enough Jack would need my help to change Peter’s diaper—it wouldn’t serve to push Jack’s boundaries too hard, too fast. He’d be changing diapers within a few days, but right then, I thought, should just be about the good stuff for him. For them both.

# # #

After dinner that night, Jack and I were lounging on the couch with a couple of beers. Peter was asleep again, and we were in a comfortable lull. But I needed to talk, and he needed to hear what I had to say.

“Jack, I need us to be clear on something. First off, you have to know how thrilled I am that you are now sure about Peter being Keith’s. That’s huge—for you, and for Peter.”

“You gotta know, babe, I loved my brother. He was gone. He is gone. But now…now, I have a part of him back. And that baby…I need to be part of his life. You have to let me. You have to let me be for Peter what Keith can’t be. No matter what happens between us, I need that, and that baby needs that. He needs a man. He needs me. Don’t cut me out of his life. Ever.” He was looking at me hard, willing me with all of his energy to give him the assurance he needed.

Since it was exactly what I wanted for Peter as well, it was an easy give. “I swear to you, Jack, as long as you are good to and for him, I will never, ever, cut you off from him. But if you ever, even once, hurt—“

“I would never do that. I would never do that. You have to know that. Okay, Ellie? You follow? I swear to you. Peter comes first. I swear.”

We just looked at each other for a minute in silence, both of us feeling the weight of our promises to each other.

I broke it. “Good. So, we should also get on the same page about us, then. This marriage thing…” I wasn’t really sure how to say what I wanted to say, but he was already nodding.

“Yeah, okay, so. We need to not fuck this up.”

“Exactly. Whew. Yes. So I think…”

“We should not have sex again.”

I looked up at him, and he was leaning forward, forearms resting on his thighs, but his head was turned to me, gauging my reaction, dead serious.

I felt like a balloon that had suddenly lost its air. “Yeah. Yes. We shouldn’t.” It was right, it was true. But it was also depressing.

“Right. Because the last thing I want is for things to get rough between us. I won’t allow that, Ellie. Peter comes first. We are getting married. You need that money. Peter needs that money. And I need to make sure you have it, for your own peace of mind. That said, I want you to know that I expect to provide for you and Peter as much as Keith would. And he’d have been a solid provider, whether or not you two ever got together as a couple.”

“We never—” I started, but he cut me off.

“I know, I know you say that, and you believe that, and maybe it’s true. But with a baby in the picture, you can’t know that for sure. Keith would have made damn sure to be in that boy’s life, you gotta know that. And anything might have happened. So you can’t say for certain that nothing would have ever developed between you.

“Now, since that’s not a possibility, I’m here. I’m here to be the dad that Keith can’t be to Peter. I don’t care if he calls me ‘Dad’ or ‘Uncle Jack’—just being honest here—but I will be in that boy’s life, all the way through. So things between us…we do this marriage thing, and I know you only want the six months and then you want to move along, and I get that. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. Well, barely. We’re just getting to know each other. But the sex—which, damn, babe, you know how great that was, between us. But we can’t do that again. Not now. It would mess things up too much for later, when you go.”

“Right.” I really just felt like a wet noodle now. “But Jack, you agree, right? That the six-month thing, that’s for you, too. The marriage, it’s only for the trust fund. It’s super generous of you to even agree to it—I mean, what good is it to you? It doesn’t serve you at all. So the six-month out, that’s for you, too. It’s not just about me. It’s for you.”

“Right.” And once again, we held each other’s eyes, silently acknowledging the ramifications and implications and promises of these past several minutes. It felt heavy and real. My body, which was still in raging hormonal lust for this amazingly wonderful and super hot man, was screaming at me in rage over the unfairness of it all, but this was the wisest course. I knew it, and Jack knew it. We would just have to train our bodies to know it, too.

The best I could hope for now was that Jack would begin to show some really disgusting bachelor habits that would totally turn me off.

Like walking around naked… ugh, turn-on. No.

Like not showering right after a workout, and walking around sweaty and....another turn-on. No.

Like bringing women home from the MC parties or bars…Jealousy-trigger, much? Yes. Turn-off? No.

Crap.

I was so screwed.

Chapter 13

Jack

“You made me do it once. I’ll do it again and again. For you. For us. Forever.”

I had read the note over and over so many times, I had it memorized. But I didn’t have it figured out.

I’m not sure why I hadn’t shown it to Ellie yet, or even told her about it. We’d had so much else going on, and that night when the rock got thrown, I had figured that we’d rocked each other’s worlds enough.

Speaking of…I started to get hard again, just remembering how incredible the sex was with her.

But we weren’t doing that anymore. Fuck. These six months were going to drag their asses by, second by tick-tocking second.

We now were down to just one day before the wedding. Life had whipped up around us over the past several days, and my MC brethren and their old ladies were proving their weight in gold.

Keith had also been a member of the club, and everyone understood what Peter’s appearance meant to me. The old ladies were now constantly bombarding me with hugs and gifts and soft looks, and the guys were beating me up with backslaps. Add to that, I was getting more than my share of cigars, accompanied with anecdotes of mistakes with babies. Life had definitely gone corkscrew.

Ellie was getting a dose of MC love from the old ladies as well, and I’m sure they were giving her more than she was used to—gifts and casseroles and baby supplies and what-have-you. The house was filled with boxes, tissue papers, bags, and baby stuff. Our lives had been blown into hurricane insta-family, and I can’t say that either one of us was completely comfortable with it.

Add to that, the wedding—which we weren’t talking about with the MC, but we still had to go and get the paperwork and blood tests and all the civil government crap sorted out. Thank fuck her grandmother hadn’t included a clause requiring a church wedding.

The past couple days had gotten a little weird with Ellie, though. She wasn’t talking to me much, seemed like she was trying to keep a distance. Pulling on her sleeve a lot, she seemed skittish and jittery. I figured it was just the stress of everything going down.

Hell, to be honest, I wasn’t talking much to her, either. It was like the less we spent time together, the less we had to deal with putting the kibosh on our physical attraction—which seemed not to be going away anytime soon. I couldn’t be around her—hell, I couldn’t even think about her—without wanting her. So, for the next six months, it looked like avoidance would be our mutual go-to modus operandi.

Aside from that, things had eased up with regard to the fuckwit stalker who had disappeared from radar since the installation of the security system—which could be either a good or a bad sign.

Biggest thing left over: I still hadn’t gotten to the bottom of the threat on the rock note. So, that needed sorting. ASAP. I just wasn’t sure of the best way to tap Ellie for the deets, whatever she knew.

“Yo, Grath, come back here when you got a minute,” I called out when I saw him escorting his latest client to the front of the shop.

He tipped his chin up to me.

I sat back down at my desk and waited, playing with the damn note between my fingers. I had a bad feeling about it, and wanted to run my theory by him before acting on it. Because if my gut was right…

“Whatchu want?” He was at my door.

“You remember this?” I flipped the dirty wrinkled note around to face him.

“Yeah.” He snagged it to refresh his memory of the words. Looked at it a moment, set it back down on my desktop. “You ever show it to Ellie? Ask her about it?”

“No, not yet. It slipped through the cracks, been crazy, last few days.”

“I hear you. But what’s stopping you now?”

“Just a feeling. This note…it makes it sound like she’s guilty of something, like something bad went down, and she was in on it. I don’t know. Pisses me off, reading it. She doesn’t seem like the type…from everything she’s said, I can’t believe…”

“…that she’d do something illegal, with or for this asswipe. I hear you, bruh. She talk to you much, about him? What’s her take?”

“Yeah, she talked. Sounded like she wanted nothing to do with him. Said they’d dated briefly, he got rough on her once—fuckin’ knocked her to the ground with a cheekbone punch. She been trying to lose his ass ever since. I don’t think she’d have been asking him for any favors, not since that. This note—it doesn’t add up.”

“Agreed. So why haven’t you asked her?”

“I got a gut feeling she wouldn’t tell me if there was something she did. I don’t think she’d outright lie to me, but she needs me, she’s walking on eggshells around me the last couple o’ days. Things are…they got kinda complicated…”

“You fuckin’ fucked her, didn’t you? Oh man, way to fuck it right up.” Grath had the balls to laugh right in my face. He was one of the very few human beings who could get away with that. And yeah, I totally deserved it.

Not that I would let him do it for long. I shut that shit right down. “Shut the fuck up.”

That only made him laugh harder. “She’s effectively your sister-in-law! She’s gonna be in your life forever, bruh. You know better. Oh, you are fucked.” He cracked up again.

“You don’t think I know that? I know. So shut it. We aren’t doing that anymore. Shut that shit down. I don’t need to hear it. It’s sorted.”

“Riiiight. It’s sorted.” He chuckled. “Watching you two together, it was inevitable. Obvious. That’s fucking hysterical!—Ah, I needed that laugh. That felt great. Thanks, man. Owe you.”

I side-eyed him, then got back to the point. “Thing is, she’s really comfortable with you, man. That thing you do with women, get them to talk…think you could give it a go, get the real story on what she had this Brian asshole do for her?”

He smiled slyly. “Honey, don’t be jealous. Can I help it that the women all just love me more? They can’t resist a gorgeous gay man. They are as moths to my flame.”

“Easy there, Ricky Martin.”

“Of course I’ll talk to her. You want me to go now? My next client isn’t due for a few hours. Is she still at your place?—Speaking of, how long is she staying with you? You gonna let her cramp your nasty-ass bachelor style for much longer? Seems out of character, sweetie.”

“Grath, cut it with the sweet talk. You had your fun. I’m serious.”

“You are so easy to rile. So. Hard. To resist.” But finally, he sat his ass down and got real. “Okay, I’m good. So talk. What’s the deal with you two? You putting up with her and the baby in your space for long?—I get that you wanna know the kid, but playing the little family is not your style, amigo. When are they moving out?”

I looked him dead in the eye a minute before admitting, “They’re not. Not for a while.”

His eyebrows shot up. “And how long is a while?”

“Six months.”

“Six months? That’s a very specific time frame. Why six months? Give me the scoop.”

I looked at the desk, knowing if the case were turned around and it were him and not me in the hotspot, I’d be pissed if he didn’t tell me what was going down. So I shared.

“Peter’s got some heart troubles, and he’s looking at a bunch of medical stuff coming up in the next few years. She has a trust fund she can’t get to unless she marries within a few days now, and she won’t get it until she’s been married for six months. We’re doin’ that. Then she’ll get the money, Peter can get all he needs, she won’t be up shit creek for it, and we get a divorce and go on with our lives.”

Grath’s eyes widened throughout the telling, and he blew out a long breath. “Wow. That’s intense. Peter—he’s gonna be alright?”

“Yeah. He is. He’s already had the worst of it sorted, had an operation a number of weeks ago. He’s doing okay. Gotta get bigger and stronger for the next stuff. But he’s gonna be okay.” My saying it would make it so. I willed it to be true, every time I thought about it. Peter would be okay. Any other outcome was unthinkable.

Grath totally got it. “Yeah, bruh, he is. I get it. No rocking the boat too hard with Ellie. Under enough pressure. Yeah, I’m more than happy to go talk to her. She home now?”

“Should be. We’re headed to the courthouse later, get the paperwork sorted.”

“When were you going to share with the MC, man? This stuff, it’s important, it gets shared.”

I shook my head. “On the DL. Since it’s temporary, just for her and Peter and the trust fund, I didn’t see any reason to make a big announcement. It’ll be over soon enough. We’re doing it under radar, you know? Not making a big deal.”

“Okay. Right. Not a big deal.” He smirked at me. “Check back in with me in six months. I’m starting a pool.” Then he winked at me, snagged the stalker note off my desk, folded it and stuffed it in a pocket, and turned to leave.

Before he even got out my office door, he turned back to me. “You do know I gotta share, right, man? Guys are gonna wonder, might lose some respect for Ellie if they think too long about her living with you for six months, baby-mama to your brother’s kid, no other official word from you on what’s going on. You gotta rep, my friend, and it ain’t of an angel. They’re gonna start thinkin’ a lot less of that lady, you don’t tell ’em what’s up. It’ll be better for Ellie, you share. Makes her an official old lady, be good for her. If you keep your hands off o’ her, that’s your business. Not that we won’t be paying attention. Because you know we will.” He laughed and winked again, and this time he got his ass out of my office.

“Get the fuck out of here.”

I watched him as he strutted to the front door of the shop. He clapped his hands once and rubbed them together, beaming at Trini. “Whoo boy, this is going to be fun!”

Not quite. “Whatever you do, do not ring the doorbell,” I called. He gave me an overhead thumbs-up.

Chapter 14

Ellie

I heard a knocking at the door just as I was putting Peter down for his early afternoon nap. The kid took more naps than a cat. But he was pretty cute, so I let him get away with it.

I peeked through the window to the side of the door before opening it; after the scare with Brian, I was taking no chances. I smiled when I saw Grath there. The guy was easy to hang with, one of those people whom everybody likes. His body said badass, but his eyes said teddy-bear/comedian. It was hard not to feel better just being around him.

He didn’t come alone, however. The guy with him was new to me—he hadn’t been to the house before, and I know I hadn’t seen him around with the rest of the MC guys. Grath was all tall and bulky and just generally hugantic and covered in rather beautiful ink from his neck and collarbone to his wrists—and probably a lot more than that. In contrast, this new guy was a much more slim and smooth type—way more clean-cut looking. In fact, he looked like he could play a G-man out of Hollywood. Together, they looked like Mutt and Jeff. Not that I had any idea who Mutt and Jeff were or what they looked like; it was just something my mother used to say, connoting opposites. Aw, crap. I was becoming my mother.

He caught my eye through the window and said sotto voce, “Ellie, girl, knock-knock, sweetie. We’ve come to rescue you from the stench of Jack-o’s laundry.”

I giggled and swung the door open wide for the two men. I didn’t even care who guy number two was; Grath scored so high on my chart of cool peeps, I’d let in just about anyone he might bring, ever. I was definitely in the category of fan-girl to Grath’s fabulous/cool factor.

Maybe it also had to do with the starvation-for-adult-interaction thing that I was experiencing. Since Jack and I had agreed to table sex—gah! Not like that! Not to have table sex. The agreement to table the sex option—i.e., to not have sex, period. That agreement.

Since our agreement on that issue, I’d been kind of avoiding him, just to give us each space and not to get in each other’s way. This meant that almost all of my human interaction was now relegated—again—to being between me and my baby boy. In itself, this was normal and great and right for new mamas. I knew that. But I couldn’t help missing full sentences and interchanging ideas.

Grath and mystery man’s appearance was like a get-out-of-jail-free card. They couldn’t have come at a better time, either, with Peter just out in a brand new milk-induced coma. I likely had a good two hours of free time before his next waking cycle began.

“How’s the beautiful mamacita doing today?” Grath pulled me into a bear hug.

“I’m good. Chugging along. You good?” I returned the volley.

“All good. Ellie-ba-dellie, I want you to meet Steph, my partner.” He grabbed and squeezed Steph’s hand very quickly before continuing like a freight train. “Steph, this is the incredible woman I told you about. Mother to the miracle baby. Is he up?” Grath was looking around, as if Peter could come walking out of one of the back rooms at any moment. Steph was just looking at me appraisingly, not without some humor at his partner’s apparent ADHD.

I had guessed earlier that Grath might be gay; he wasn’t flamboyant, but there was just that little something in his profusive personality to suggest it. Now Steph’s appearance on the scene was confirmation. They looked really good together, these two, and I was glad to see that for Grath, even though I barely knew him. It was always good to see happy, well-matched couples.

“Hiya, Steph. Come on in. Grath, what are you doing here, middle of the day? Playing hooky?” I winked at him.

“Naw, honey, just came to check in on you. Got something I need to run by you. You got some time to talk, or did you make big plans for the afternoon with your little man?”

I assured him no, offered drinks, played hostess with the mostest, as one does. We settled in the living room, and had a momentary lull. I sensed there was more to this visit than a friendly little drop-in, but I was unprepared for the bomb Grath was about to drop on me.

“You remember that rock that that asshole dropped through the window?”

“Of course.”

“Well, it came with a note attached. Gotta know if you can decipher it for me.” And he took a dirty, wrinkled sheet of white paper out of his pocket and dropped it on the coffee table.

I took a few seconds, just looking at it and at him, threw a glance at Steph, who was watching me closely, and leaned forward to pick it up. When I read those nasty, ugly words, I freaked out internally, and I felt my color rise. “Oh, my God.” I didn’t even say the words outright, more just mouthed them, because speech had left me momentarily.

“Make any sense to you, Ellie?”

Now they were both watching me like eagles. I felt like I was going to barf.

“He’s crazy. He’s really, really crazy. Oh, my God.”

That was the best I could do at that moment.

“What is he talking about, there? What did he do for you?”

I didn’t know, not for sure. I mean, I had thought…but I had hoped I was wrong. But this seemed to confirm my worst fears, and it was time to own up. I truly got sick to my stomach, and made a run for the toilet, barely making it there in time.

I lost my lunch in the most unpleasant of ways, and then sensed Grath taking up space over me in the small bathroom, running water over a washcloth. He squeezed out the excess and pressed it to my forehead. I had pretty much done with the barfing part by now, and was just breathing heavily, on my knees in front of the toilet, waiting to make sure there was no more coming.

“You okay now?” he softly asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“You think you can talk about it?”

“Yeah. I think I need to. Just give me a minute, okay? I’ll come back out. Just want to wash out my mouth first.”

“Sure thing. Take your time. We’re not going anywhere.”

“’Kay.”

I cleaned myself up and thought about how I could possibly explain my worst fears, now seemingly confirmed by that nasty, dirty, repugnant note. It had already been several days since that crazy day when Brian showed up here at Jack’s place. So much had happened…

Why hadn’t I been informed of the note before now? Did Jack know about it? If so, why hadn’t he brought it up to me? What kind of game was Grath playing, bringing it to me now? Gah—too many conflicting and confounding thoughts tossed in my head, and it started to pound.

I made my way back to the living room, barely looking at either man, and sat back down on the couch.

“What can you tell us, Ellie?”—that came from Steph.

“You sound like a cop or something. Are you?” I stalled.

Without moving his head, his eyes shot over to Grath’s, then came back to mine. “Yes, actually. I am a cop. Detective, actually. Homicide. But I’m also Grath’s partner, Jack’s friend, and your friend, too. But first and foremost, right now, I’m here just to help. Let us help. If you can explain this, so we can catch this guy, now would be a good time.”

Wow. This was a bit shocking on many levels. I took a moment to let it all sink in. That Grath—an MC guy—was partnered with a cop was, in and of itself, a strange thing. I guess opposites really do attract.

Beyond that, no one else could possibly know just how apropos it was that Steph worked Homicide. Because that was, I feared, exactly what it was about.

It was time for me to dump my info, and I was glad of it. I had been carrying it around for so long—the not knowing, the doubt, the guilt, the suspicion, the fear of what it all meant, the consequences, the pain. And the deep, deep regret.

“I…I don’t know this for sure, I wasn’t there…but now, seeing this, I think there’s a good chance…that Brian killed Keith.”

I lost it. I just broke down. Saying it out loud made it more real, like admitting it was true when I’d been lying to myself for nearly a year, trying to persuade myself that Brian could not have been that evil, that Keith’s death had not been connected to me at all, just a freak accident of place and circumstance.

Keith had been shot in the back, on a street in the neighborhood of his house and the Red Trick Pony. No one had ever been caught, there were no witnesses found, no trace of the gun, nothing. Just a late-night senseless shooting that had led to the death of a man.

Steph’s eyes had narrowed, and his body was leaned in toward me, his attention on full blast. “Grath has filled me in on what happened here the other day. I gotta say, you should have called the cops. You know that, right? That was your first mistake—this week. Hell, your first mistake was in not coming to the cops way back last year, when Keith went down. Why the fuck didn’t…”

“Yo, babe, go easy on her. Tone it down a notch. You’re freaking her out.” I was pretty sure Grath was observing my near-hyperventilating.

They got into it. “She should be freaked out! If what she’s saying is true, then we’ve got a known armed and dangerous killer out there with someone in his sights, and it doesn’t take too much thinking to figure out that that target is Jack. Beyond that, who knows who else…maybe the baby?”—and here Steph looked back at me, and my stomach about dropped out again. “But this stalker—Brian—I’m gonna need more info on him, by the way, honey,”—that was to me again—“if he did gun down Keith—and we will find out, because no way does his case stay open my entire fucking life—“

“McAfee goes down. Hard. Regardless. But especially so, yes, if what she’s sayin’ is true, if he’s the one what took down our man. Just, easy on the girl today.” Grath turned back to me. “Ellie hon, you gotta breathe. You need a paper bag?”

I shook my head, getting a handle on myself. Now that I was no longer the only person who had these thoughts haunting my mind, I felt somehow relieved. Not better—it was a living nightmare. I don’t know how, when, or even if it could ever get better—but by sharing it, at least I wasn’t alone with it.

“Okay, let’s start at the top. What do you know? What can you tell us?”

“Well, you know already about Brian, right? Jack explained all that happened in Portland, and how he’d followed me here last year?”

Steph piped in, ever the interrogator. “Yeah, sweetie, we got that part. But about Keith and Brian—and the note says that you made him do it once…”

“Steph! Stop.” They couldn’t think I would ever have asked for this, for Keith, or for anyone, could they? “Brian is crazy. You get that, right? I never asked for his crazy. Hell, I was trying to get away from him all this time. If he’s the one who shot Keith, he did it of his own volition. My God! Keith and I were friends. I liked him. He was awesome. I never wanted him to get hurt, to even be involved in the crazy that was Brian. I never wanted any of this.” Cue: tears. Damnit.

“Okay, honey. You’re right, it doesn’t make sense that you would have been behind Keith’s going down.”

“Except that I was, when you boil it down, right? It was my fault. Brian would never have targeted Keith if Keith hadn’t gotten in his face that night at the bar, defending me, putting Brian in his place. Humiliated him. Keith would never have been on Brian’s radar. Keith would still be alive…”

“Ellie, you can’t go re-writing history. From what Jack told me, that night that Keith gave McAfee what he had coming to him was the same night you and he…” Grath wiggled his brows at me with a funny sly smile, trying to lighten the mood. “So if Keith had never been involved, had never been on McAfee’s radar, then you might not even be alive—no telling what McAfee might have done to you—Aaand also, you wouldn’t have Peter. You wanna change that?”

The thought of not having Peter, who had so completely taken over my heart, was devastating. It was either Keith or Peter, but it was no choice at all. It had all played out the way it did, and now I had my beautiful son, and there was nothing any of us could do to rewind the clock for Keith’s sake. So I took a deep breath and smiled shyly back at Grath.

“You’re right. I could never choose not to have Peter. Never. But it doesn’t make me feel less guilty about Keith…It’s my fault, my fault, that Peter will never know his father. That Jack—and all of you—have to live without a great man whom you all loved—”

He cut me off. “Don’t go there, Ellie. You gotta let it drop. It makes sense, now, that we have a bead on Keith’s killer. Before now, we had nothing. So this is progress. We’ll find him, we’ll take him down. On that, you can be damn sure. One hundred percent.”

Steph, Mister Logic, got back in the ring. “You said the other day that the gun you saw in McAfee’s hands, that it looked like…?”

I repeated what I had seen. “Like a gun a cop would carry. At least, a cop on TV. I guess they look like real cop guns? I don’t know the make and model, but it was black, kind of square-ish looking, all business, no frills. Handgun. Not small, but not outrageously big, either. Does that help?”

“Yeah, it helps a lot, actually. Fits with the bullets that were found in Keith’s back.”

I flinched. Poor Keith! I hated to think of what he must have gone through, those last hours and minutes of his life, and what he might have thought about. I sent a prayer up for him, a message of love and gratitude and of sorrow at the untimely end to his sojourn here. I would regret and grieve his passing forever; it was something that I would carry in my heart for eternity.

But now, knowing—or thinking I knew the culprit behind his takedown, and the evil and madness that drove Brian to do it, I was getting angry. Red-hot angry. Because: how dare Brian play God with Keith’s life, with my life, with Peter’s life, and Jack’s life? Brian had to be all-out crazy—no, psychopathic—to have gone through with any of this. And I was done. I was pissed. I wanted to bring him down personally.

Apparently, in my raging thoughts, I had at some point gotten to my feet and started treading the carpets with vengeance, because I suddenly had two very strong arms around me, holding me from behind, and Grath’s voice began whispering in my ear, “Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, girl. We’re gonna get him. Breathe, Ellie. You have the cops, you have Steph and his team, you have me, and Jack, and the whole MC with you now. We’re all on this together. And we will hunt that bastard down. Do not worry. You just take care of that precious baby of yours, yeah? That is your number one. We will take care of the psycho. Okay? Are you breathing? In and out, honey. In and out.” And then we were basically doing Lamaze together, on our feet. It wasn’t even weird; it helped.

After a few minutes, he let me go, and we were all a bit calmer. The room was full of the tension of too much knowledge and too little action, but there was a new element, too: we were part of a team. I felt like a part of the team, even though they had relegated me to playing a bystander role in the hunt for the psycho killer. I had trouble with that image, a little bit. It was discomfiting—hi, understatement!—to think that all this time, Brian was actually capable and guilty of murder, and that he did it effectively for me. Gross. Repugnant. Sickening. Sick.

Eventually, Grath looked me over, seeing I was doing much better, had taken a few sips of iced tea and appeared fairly normal again. So he figured I was ready for the next hard hitter. “One last thing before we go, Ells. Gotta know, why didn’t you tell Jack about these suspicions of yours, about Brian maybe being Keith’s killer? Why didn’t you ever go to the cops, way back when? Seems like a lot of this could have been dealt with last year. What could possibly have held you back?”

Was this the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question? I didn’t have a good, easy answer. All I had was my truth, which I gave him, best as I could.

“Keith told me about his brother one night at the bar when we were just shooting the shit back and forth. Said Jack was the best. He talked about the MC a little—didn’t go into any detail, just about how he loved to ride, got involved with an MC, that you were all like family. He was a big, tough guy, but he got a happy look on his face when he talked about you all.

“But Jack—he said he worried about Jack, that Jack took business and family things dead seriously, and believed in an eye for an eye, everything in black and white. Even though Keith was younger, he said he felt really protective of Jack—funny, because he also said that Jack would say exactly the same thing, being protective of Keith. But that when he was a kid, growing up, Jack had always had his back, and always went after anyone who was even thinking about giving Keith a rough time.

“When I heard about what happened to Keith, I was horrified. I was scared. I didn’t want to believe that what I thought might be…I didn’t want to believe it to be true. I didn’t want to know it to be true. I just wanted to get as far away from all of it as possible, as fast as I could.

“I knew there was no point in going to another new place—Brian had already followed me to the one place that was so opposite of Portland, I thought he never would have come down here. But he did, and then Keith was gone, and I was pregnant and I had no one else, there didn’t seem any point in my staying here.

“I packed up right quick and went back to Portland. I have a friends there, and my mom and a bunch of ‘uncles’…” I shrugged, hoping that was enough of an explanation.

Steph wasn’t buying it. “There’s more to it, Ellie. Spit it out.”

He was right. “I guess, in my way, I wanted to protect Jack, too. Keith can’t anymore. But I didn’t want to tell Jack about my suspicions about Brian, then have Jack go off half-cocked to take out Brian and end up behind bars for the rest of his life after exacting some kind of eye-for-an-eye revenge. I mean, who could blame him? But for his own life’s sake, and for Peter…I want Jack around. I don’t want him behind bars. That’s why I didn’t say anything, earlier. That’s why I still don’t want to tell him. I don’t know how to do that. How do I stop him from killing Brian? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what he’s going to want to do.”

“Honey, we all want to kill McAfee,” Grath averred. Steph made a quick, sharp tsss sound and shot his big man a look that might kill, just by itself.

“Do not ever say that in front of me again, you ass. You know better. No matter how true it is.”

Grath grinned at Steph, then beamed it at me. “I love it when he gets all formal cop on me. Turns me on.”

Steph leaned over and swatted at Grath’s ass, and we all cracked up. The tension had finally broken.

Grath got up, pulled me to my feet, and bear hugged me one more time. “I get why you didn’t tell him, but Jack, more than anyone, deserves to know all of this. He’ll be really hurt it didn’t come from you. You know that, right? But I gotta agree, he’s gonna be so pissed off, it might take three or four of us to hold him down until he processes it and slows himself down.

“Tell you what. I’ll get the MC to call church—what we call our meetings, for all the brothers—and I’ll tell him and everyone else there, together. Might be safest.”

“Thank you, Grath. You don’t know how grateful I am.”

“Yeah, well, hold onto that gratitude. I gotta feeling Jack is going to be mighty pissed off about it, and some of that is pretty likely to come flying in your direction. Try to keep in mind that he’s gonna need some time to process, to get to grips with all this. But it will be okay. All right?”

“Yeah, all right. I gotta believe that. Holding onto that.”

“Yeah. Good. So you leave all the worries to us. You just focus on your baby boy.”

They both gave me squeezes, then looked hard at one another, communicating without words, and left the house with purpose in their strides.

I had just witnessed the beginning of what was likely to be one hell of a storm, hitting the streets of Tucson.

Chapter 15

Jack

When I rode into the Iron Bandits’ compound that night, it looked like all my MC brothers had beaten me to it. The place was packed. I parked my bike and strode straight back to church. I knew I wasn’t late, but it felt like I was the last one there for a reason. This did not bode well.

Yep. Sure enough, the room was packed. Everyone in their place. I had no idea what I’d missed, but it was something big, because they all went silent as I made my way to my seat at the table. Then Bull, our president, said, “Good. ’Bout time you made it here. Sit down, Jack-o. We got news, and we got shit to cover.

“First off, damn you for planning a wedding without letting us know you were taking on that sweet mama to be your old lady. No disrespect. You do your brother proud. It’s what he would have wanted, for her, for his son. It’s a good move. When’s the wedding?”

I shot a death-glare at Grath, who grinned back at me with a shift of his shoulders. The asshole had shared.

But he was right: the MC would now be sworn to protect Ellie as much as any other family member, as much as Peter, as much as all the women and children in the chosen circles of our ranks. Maybe it read as archaic or patriarchal bullshit to Ellie—in fact, I knew it did. I knew she didn’t like it. And she would hate being called an ‘old lady.’ Still, it was our way. And like it or not, she would benefit from it, even if our marriage was in name only and only lasted for six months. It would have the mark of legitimacy, it would be recognized. And that was all to the good.

There might even been a part of me that wished it was real: that the marriage would be real, that I could think of and call Ellie mine—and not just for six months, but for good. But that was not the plan, and it wasn’t going to play out like that, so I slapped that thought down and grunted my acceptance of their well-wishes. “Yeah, uh, it’s tomorrow. Keeping it real small, courthouse.”

There were a bunch of nods and I got a few more pats on the back and punches to the arms. Some guys slapped the table in salute. But the subject quickly lost its sparkle, and I knew we were here for a different reason.

Bull hit the gavel once for attention, and got it.

 “Jack-o, I can see you’re curious about why we’re all here before you. We need you to listen, now. Do not get up until you have leave, you hear me? I want your ass in that chair until I am done laying this out for you.”

What the fuck? This kind of shit did not happen at our meetings. What the fuck had I done? I knew the answer was nothing—with the exception of the bender I had gone on a couple of weeks past, I’d been doing good. Work was smooth, the shop was earning and busy, clients were happy, books were solid. So this was not disciplinary. I wracked my brain, and came up empty. I must have looked ridiculous—which I hated—looking around me with my eyebrows raised. “One of you assholes wanna enlighten me here? What the fuck is going on? What is this bullshit?”

“It’s about Keith.”

Okay, that got my attention.

“What about Keith?”

“We got a lead now, on what happened that night. On who did it.”

“Name.” That is all I wanted. I sat forward.

“Back down, man.”

I slid back in the chair, looking hard at Bull. “Name.”

“Brian Mc—”

“I fucking knew it! I fucking knew it! That fuck! I’m gonna hunt that motherfucker down—”

“Jack! Sit your ass back down. Right. Now.” A bunch of guys had gotten up around me and circled me, as if that was going to hold me back from heading out the door and onto his trail. Ha!

Still, I looked a few of my brothers in the eye, and they looked at me fiercely, but also with understanding. They knew how hard this was gonna hit me. Well, I guessed that answered my question about the purpose and style of today’s church meeting. It was an intervention, and I was the detainee. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I gave the guys long hard stares right back, then resettled in my chair. If this was the way they wanted to play it, so be it. They’d better have a plan, though—I knew that as soon as church was over, I’d be on the trail, with or without them. I finally had something to go on, to catch my little brother’s murderer, and nothing was going to stop me. Absolutely. Nothing.

But Bull had other ideas. “You still with us? Pay attention, now, Jack, because I’m only going to say this once. You do not go off on your own to get this piece of shit. You got me?

“We are an MC, we are your brothers, we work together as a team. We also got help—Steph has more info feeding in, but we don’t know enough yet. We don’t know where this McAfee is, we don’t know where he’s staying, we don’t know where he’s been.

“We do know he’s got a gun, and we know he’s crazy enough to kill. And we know—or, we think we know—that you are the next one in his sights.

“So you are not the one who should be riding around seeking him out. He might find you first. And then what good are you to that woman you’re about to marry, or to that baby boy, your brother’s son?

“You have responsibilities now, son, and you have to think hard and long first, before you can go out and get that revenge I know you need in your blood.”

Fuck fuck shit. He was right.

I had one big question I had to ask. I thought I already knew the answer, and it wasn’t likely to make me happy, but I needed to know, I needed someone to say it. I needed to be sure.

“How did you find out? How did we suddenly get intel on Keith’s killer?”

And the answer I had dreaded came swiftly, from Grath. He knew how much this would hurt, too, so he spoke it softly. “Ellie.”

Of course it was Ellie. Who else could it be? That fucking bitch. She knew. All this time, she knew. And she had let the fucker walk.

I nodded, stood up, containing my rage, and walked carefully to the door, gathering my thoughts and taking a minute to breathe.

And then I put my fist through the wall.

Chapter 16

Ellie

When I woke up the next morning, there was a lot of bustling noise and women’s voices coming from the living room and kitchen, and it made no sense to me. It wasn’t even eight yet. Since Peter’s last feeding, I’d managed to pull another two hours of sleep in, but the grog ruled my brain.

I rolled into a squat and eased my way up to standing, stretching out my back and legs and arms as I went, trying to get some blood flowing up north, but sleep mode had me in a tight lockdown.

By rote, I checked on Peter. He was still asleep, and the monitor was on. I wandered into the living room, my eyes barely opened. My body moved of its own volition toward the kitchen, seeking the coffeemaker by muscle memory—no credit due to my brain.

“Great, you’re up! Good morning! Oooh, today is going to be so much fun! But we have…”

Whoever it was was talking an awful lot. I tried to listen at first, but gave up fairly quickly; the words wouldn’t register yet, anyway. There were at least two or three female bodies moving around, in various colors. I saw blue jeans, a yellow skirt, a white top, some pinks…yep, women. Was Jack having a party? This early in the morning? Huh. Maybe I should be insulted.

Still, they seemed happy. I didn’t want to be rude. “Mmerng.”

Jack stood with his hip to the breakfast bar, arms crossed over his chest. I got confused with all the bodies in the way, and lost track of where I had been headed, and why. So I stood there, in the middle of the kitchen, muddled.

“Ellie. Look at me.”

Did he have to sound so dominant? Pshhht. I guessed he did. He couldn’t help himself. But it was kind of nice to have some direction all the same, so I looked at him.

He was watching me with a strange expression, like he was angry but about to laugh at the same time.

“Coffee.”

Oh! Right. Coffee. That’s what I came in here for. Coffee.

I nodded and looked around to see where I might find the coffeemaker.

“Ellie, it’s next to the fridge.”

I located it and moved to the counter where it perched. After standing in front of it for a few seconds, I remembered to find the mugs in the cabinet above.

The ladies were still buzzing around in their own high-pitched world, and I was not tuning in yet. But what I did hear was Jack’s low rumble of a chuckle, and he came up behind me just as I was putting the carafe back onto the hotplate. He put an arm around my shoulders, in front of me, pulling me back into his chest and putting his lips close to my ear. “I can’t stay mad at you when you’re like this. But I am mad at you, and we will talk later.” His voice was so low, I was pretty sure nobody else could hear what he said. I’m not even sure that’s exactly what he said, but that was the gist of it.

The thing was, he hadn’t touched me in a few days. Not at all. Not even close. So suddenly having him hold me from behind, and whisper in my ear—my body responded immediately. Awake or not, I flushed and felt the usual dampness between my legs. It was getting ridiculous. The man barely had to look in my direction, and I got turned on. With him draped over my back, I could smell his scent just that much easier, and of course my physical response had me blushing immediately.

He noticed. And he started to get hard in response. I could feel his cock rise against my lower back, and he subtly pressed himself against me, wanting me to feel him, too. I started having problems breathing, and I wanted more. I was about to turn around and…

“Oh my God, you two are too cute together. But knock it off! Jack-o, get out of here. You’re not even supposed to see her today. Go away! Go on! Shoo!”

Jack held my upper chest tighter for a moment, dipped his head and bit my neck where it met my shoulder and growled low in frustration. My knees nearly melted out from under me, but somehow managed to keep me upright when he released me and left the room. I was still facing my full coffee mug, now turned on and completely at a loss to comprehend the activity around me.

Coffee. Yes. I turned to the refrigerator, pulled out the milk, doctored up my mug, and sipped. Eyes closed, swaying slightly, and I began to focus on the sounds of the ladies again.

“…so we have to hustle, honey. Ellie? Are you listening? Come on, girl. Snap to. Or you’re going to be late to your own wedding!” And she and the other women laughed at her big joke.

Except—crap! She was right. We were getting married today—but wait. How did she know that? Nobody knew. Or, nobody was supposed to know. How did she know?

I turned around to face the room again, and found the three witches of Tucson all hovering nearby. My synapses were beginning to fire at a faster pace now, and recognition set in. I had met these ladies earlier in the week; they were all married or partnered with guys from Jack’s MC. They were super nice, and had brought us foodstuffs and baby stuffs and well wishes and offers to help in whatever ways I might need. They didn’t even know me at all, and they had put themselves out to be kind and generous for me and for Peter.

Whereas my first instinct had been to shut them down this morning, I re-calibrated and decided it was more important I understand what they were saying, and what they were doing here.

“Um, I’m sorry, I’m an idiot in the mornings. Can we start over? What…”

“Oh, honey, you are funny. Sure thing.” I recognized the pretty brunette with massively long eyelashes and the body of a fertility goddess as Holly. She was clearly the ringleader. “We’re here to take you to Maggie’s salon. It’s not far, but she has you scheduled for the whole shebang today, so we gotta get going. First thing is set for 8:30. Now, you don’t need anything, really, just you and a pair of flip-flops. We have so much to do! Drink up, chica! Where’s that precious baby of yours? I’m on Peter duty first. I’ll take care of him, he’s coming along—don’t worry—but we have to move, move, move!”

She was a full-on whirlwind.

I gestured in the direction of my bedroom, intending to show that I was headed back there myself to get dressed and gather Peter’s stuff, but she raced in front of me, apparently in hot pursuit of my baby. Okay, then.

The bottle-blonde with the yellow skirt and white tank, who I thought was named Lana, pulled her arm through mine and guided me along the same trail. “We’re about the same size, right? I figured you probably don’t have a dress and all the right stuff. You can’t get married in street clothes, honey. So I brought everything you’ll need—it’s all in my car—and Vero here”—she indicated the third woman, a tiny little thing who appeared to be mixed Asian-American, and stunning—“is a fantabulous seamstress. She is an artiste! So whatever nips and tucks need doing, she’ll do it. You are going to look incredible. Not that you need any help in that department, but still, a bride wants to feel special. Am I right? Wedding is set for five-thirty. It is going to be amaze-balls, darlin’! Oooo! Today is going to be so much fun!”

Wow. Today was not going to be anything like what I had been figuring. From the sounds of their talk, today was going to be like…a real wedding.

And I didn’t know if I was ready for that.

Chapter 17

Jack

I felt like I was living somebody else’s life.

The MC had pulled out all the stops for me and Ellie today, with the women all taking her off to do whatever it is women do for weddings. A bunch of my MC brothers and I went for a ride.

It was a gorgeous, sunny day, perfect for the bike. Too bad I was in a piss-poor mood the whole fuckin’ time.

I knew I should be grateful—and a part of me was—but what I really felt, more than anything else, was resentment.

I resented Keith for not being there.

I resented Ellie for lying to me, for making herself into a person I couldn’t count on, couldn’t trust. For not coming forward with what she knew a year ago. For not telling me, more recently, about her suspicions.

I resented my MC, for making a big deal out of this sham of a marriage.

I even resented Ellie’s dead grandmother, for forcing her to this point, for putting us in this god-awful situation.

But most of all—and I hated this shit, but I was being brutally honest here—I resented myself, for wanting more than I could actually have with Ellie, and with Peter.

I was fucked.

I figured my best option was to get good and truly obliterated tonight. It seemed the smartest thing to do, given the circumstances.

It was beginning to hit me that I was actually getting married, even if it was only a temporary arrangement. The ceremony and the celebrations would be as real as they come. The Iron Bandits didn’t cut corners on doing it up. This would be no different, and I knew it.

So there would be all this hoopla over us tying the knot, the formalization of Ellie and me as a couple, which was irony, defined.

This woman turned me on like no one else I could think of. I wanted her more than any other woman in my life, and our chemistry together was nothing short of mind-blowingly phenomenal. If I ever was going to marry anyone—which was not something I’d spent much time pondering—I couldn’t think of anyone better to do it with, than her.

But.

She was also the only woman, barring those who were actual blood relations, who I could not have.

This was not a real thing between us. We had already agreed to its end. She wanted it like that. And so did I.

Right?…Yeah. Right. I did. That’s what I wanted.

So this whole thing sucked ass.

“Hey Grump-o,” I heard him before I saw him. It was Grath, of course. He started to lightly jog my way across the compound lot. “Hold up. Got a minute?”

“Yeah, man. What’s up?”

“Heard you were being delightful today, on the ride. I figured I’d bathe in the splendor of your joy, rare as it is to be seen.” He grinned and punched me in the arm. Fuckin’ Grath.

“Be careful I don’t punch your fuckin’ lights out, bruh. I’m in no mood for it.”

“So I see.” He raised an eyebrow. “Curious.”

“You need something?”

“Actually, yeah. I need you to lay off your woman about it tonight. I know how pissed you were last night—completely understandable, man—but you gotta know, she didn’t tell you for good reason. She made some hard—and yeah, questionable—choices last year, but tonight is not the night to deal with that.”

“You don’t know…”

He wasn’t even gonna listen to me. “What I know is this: you have a beautiful, kind, caring, and smart woman who is probably freaking the fuck out right now, about to marry your sad ass out of desperation for her baby boy. She knows you’re pissed at her, right? Can’t imagine she wouldn’t, by now. Think, for a minute, about how she feels. Give her tonight. Be nice, brother. Tomorrow is tomorrow. But take tonight off, for both of you. You need it.”

He was not wrong.

“Who set you on my tail, man? I gotta go beat somebody up.”

He laughed. “Yeah, good luck with that. Bull called me at the shop, told me I’d better get my ass over here and talk some sense into you before you fuck everything up even more. You gonna go take out our president, now? That’s a great fuckin’ idea, bruh. I’ll be ringside.”

I shook my head. We both knew I would not be doing anything to Bull. I had far too much respect for the man, and gratitude for all that he had done for me in this past year. Not to mention that it is not in our MC culture to dis—or piss off—the prez.

“Listen, man. Let it go. You’re about to marry a gorgeous woman. Let yourself enjoy this. Don’t think about six months from now. Think about Ellie, and think about Peter, and about what this will do for both of them in the long run. You are being a fucking hero to that woman, so act like one. Even if you’re not feelin’ it. She’s been through enough lately, ya know?”

He was on point. “Yeah.” I nodded.

I slowly resolved myself to make tonight about her. Help her have some fun, a night off from the many stresses that had been dragging her down for well over a year now.

Tonight was going to be a long fucking night.

# # #

Formal MC events do not involve tuxedoes. We were all in our kuttes, black pants or blue jeans, and long-sleeved white or black linen shirts. Some of the guys had put up a white canopy out on the lawn, and the bikes were all lined up facing each other in two rows, leading from the clubhouse to the canopy, like a guard of chrome. Bull was presiding, Grath was my best man, and everybody else was circled around us and the canopy.

Waiting there for my bride to walk down the aisle, it felt really strange to be the center of attention like this. I actually felt—I didn’t know what. I wanted Ellie to get her ass out here ASAP, so I wouldn’t be alone as the focal point anymore. Let her have that. But waiting on her, as I was, I was actually starting to fidget.

Okay. Yeah. I was nervous.

After what felt like long hours of standing there, waiting, Shredder, our very own lead guitar soloist, finally began playing a recognizable wedding song or piece or whatever it was. Everybody hushed and turned toward the compound to watch as Ellie made her way through the aisle of bikes. She walked alone, but she needed no accompaniment. She looked…

Beautiful. So goddamn beautiful.

The silky white dress, veil over her hair, et cetera—all the basic bridal stuff—but none of that mattered, not to me. She was blushing, of course, probably from all the eyes on her. It made her eyes brighter, her face softer, her lips fuller. Not that she needed it—she was always gorgeous, even first thing in the morning when she could barely open her eyes and walked around like a zombie. But today, now, on this occasion, I was blown away.

This woman was about to marry me. Me.

Unbelievable.

And suddenly, I knew I couldn’t hold onto my anger with her any longer. I could barely hold a thought, except for an impatient wish that she would walk faster, get herself to my side sooner. I needed to look into her eyes and see her expression, see what she was thinking, make sure she really wanted this, too.

Hell, I wanted her to want this—me—for more than just the money. But reality bites, man. No way would either of us have been there, were it not for Peter and that trust fund.

Maybe I ought to have been thanking her grandmother.

Ellie finally arrived, and I took her hand, which was soft and light as a feather. Her hand was shaking, so I gave her a squeeze for support. She immediately intertwined our fingers, and I figured that was a good sign—she wasn’t pissed off about the way I had laid into her this morning.

Just remembering those moments had me getting a semi. Damn. Every time I touched her and she responded was a kind of bliss and torture combined. I’d steered clear the past few days for a reason, but that was not going to be possible for the next several hours. I had no idea how we would survive the next six months.

I tried to focus. Tonight was just tonight. Live in the now. Moment to moment. Plenty of time to think about the next day when it came. That would have to be my ongoing strategy, and I had no problem with it. Actually, it had long been my general MO.

Peter was the one who had me thinking differently, recently. His very existence required planning ahead, and I hadn’t even realized how much my thinking had altered because I was thinking of him and his needs, and Ellie’s needs in association.

Was I seriously already becoming a family man? Was that what this all meant?

I didn’t have time to let myself dig into all that philosophy, not right now.

Now, I had an unbelievably beautiful woman holding my hand, standing up with me, and needing my help. I’d give her everything I had, tonight.

Even if it killed me.

# # #

We had a fucking great night.

The ceremony went off without a hitch. Ellie was nervous, but she got through it, even smiling at me shyly most of the time. She blushed as she spoke the vows, of course. It turned me on. As if that was any surprise.

When it came time for me to kiss her, I was fully committed to enjoying the moment, so I went for it. Why the fuck not? Pretty sure I surprised her, but she didn’t protest in any way—if her grasping my hair, opening her mouth, and rubbing her tongue on mine with the same amount of passion as I put into it was any indication.

I don’t know for how long we were mashing, but by the time I lifted my head, all I could hear were whoops and clapping and laughter coming from all directions. There was no holding back my smile.

Ellie was grasping onto my head and back and seemed a little wobbly, so instead of doing the normal thing, I bent down and picked her up and carried her down the aisle of chrome, back to the clubhouse. Everybody trailed us, and the party started rocking immediately. There was a lot of loud music, champagne—I had a glass because I figured I should—disgusting stuff—and beer and top-shelf everything.

Despite all of her nerves during the ceremony, my woman loosened up soon afterward. We danced, laughed, and ate a ton of great barbeque. The Iron Bandits threw us one hell of an amazing party, and I knew they did it for me, for Keith, and for Ellie. I had good people.

And now, Ellie did, too. That, in itself, was important.

The only thing I was having a consistent issue with—the whole night long—was the raging boner that pressed hard against my jeans just from being near that woman. I couldn’t blame her for it, but by the time the party was winding down enough for us to go home, I was desperately searching for ways to put some distance between us. Proximity was getting to be torture, and even though I was all for living in the now, I also had to be mindful of our arrangement, and our promises to not give in to our explosive sexual chemistry.

Ecstasy, meet Agony.

Chapter 18

Ellie

Jack was so dreamy.

He was beautiful, and tall, and strong, and he smelled sooo good. I loved watching his face when he laughed—he didn’t do that often enough. His smile was a mile wide, and his eyes sparkled, and his whole being just lit up. Standing next to him, dancing with him, sitting on his lap—apparently this was de rigeur for ‘old ladies’—a set to which I could now claim membership. Not sure how I felt about that, but the ladies in it were cool, so my first impression of the concept might have been wrong—all of this proximity to Jack had me more wet in my panties than I had ever been in my life. It was all I could do not to jump his bones.

I blamed him. He had started it this morning, leaving me high and…not dry at the coffeemaker. Then all throughout the ceremony, when I was so nervous, he held my hand and smiled at me, looking appreciative and strong and so handsome. And that kiss! And then he carried me down the aisle! I mean, come on. All night, I just wanted to crawl all over him, suck on his lips and tongue, kiss and breathe in his neck, touch him all over…. It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous.

By some unknowable holy power, I had managed to restrain myself from acting on any of my baser instincts. I was doing my best to respect the lines we had drawn in the sand regarding the marriage contract and the no-more-sex-ever clause.

I had darned well better be earning top points in karma for all of my incredibly difficult work on this Herculean task. And those points, I decided, would all be put into Peter’s health box. It would all be worth it, for Peter.

Speaking of, Peter was being treated to a night of best-ever babysitting and extreme mama love from all of the old ladies who were mommies themselves.

Lena—who was partnered with Shooter, a veteran badass who had a prosthetic leg and a fiercely awesome sense of humor—had brought along her family’s favorite babysitter, Nell, to oversee all the loving, and to protect my little one from any overzealous handling. She guarded him while he slept, and kept him company in an upstairs room far enough away from the party to keep him safe and sound.

The mommies in the house were taking turns going up there, loving the opportunity to cuddle with my little bean, and they reassured me over and over again that I was not to worry about him until I was sober.

That meant that I could get my drink on and have a real night out, enjoy the party and all that went with it, and know that my baby boy was in fabulously loving hands. I hadn’t felt this free since…I don’t even know when. Maybe the night that Peter was conceived. Huh. That was significant, but I couldn’t really pinpoint exactly why, in my current state of semi-inebriation.

I wasn’t drunk. But I was certainly buzzed, and feeling high on life. I felt amazing: happy, light, and …around Jack? Jack was making me feel beautiful. Damn, I wanted to kiss that man.

# # #

As a wedding gift and to welcome me to the club, they had all pitched in to get me my very own kutte to match Jack’s, who they all called Jack-o—I still did not know why. It was a minor point, I figured, even though I now had a black leather road vest that read, “Property of Jack-o” on the back. Seeing as it was given to me with the expectation that I would be moved and honored and actually thrilled by such an appellation, I had smiled at all of them, and looked quizzically at Jack when I tried it on.

He started laughing so hard he almost squirted beer out his nose.

I decided now was probably not the best time for us to have a little come-to-Jesus about this patriarchal macho crap that the MC was apparently all about. Still, I said my thank yous to everybody with a genuine smile at their obvious intention of generosity and welcome. After all, they had rolled out quite the red carpet for me. I was deeply moved, and grateful. I wore the vest the rest of the night, right over the bridal gown. And—truth, here—I started to love the feel of it on me.

At some point in the night, after several hours of great times, Jack looked at me with some level of determination in his eyes, and indicated that it was time for us to begin saying our thanks and goodnights.

He made quick work of it, actually—just lifted his chin and called out a general, “Iron Bandits,” raised his fist in the air for a second or two, then grabbed my hand and pulled me behind him toward his bike.

I didn’t even get a chance to say goodnight to Peter—or anyone else, for that matter—but since I was less-than-sober, he probably wasn’t missing out on much.

Considering the near-full length of the mermaid-style silk hugging my legs, Jack deposited me on the back of his bike side-saddle style, lifting the bottom of the skirt so it wouldn’t get caught in anything and stuffing it between my thighs and the seat. Then he climbed on in front of me, grunted, “Hold on to me tight, babe,” and we were off.

This was new to me, and all I could think about during that ride was that there was nothing like feeling the air and the freedom of the road from the back of a bike, in a wedding gown and a kutte, with the hottest man in the world attached to my front side. My cheek pressed against his back, and I could not have stopped the smile that took over my face, even if someone had offered me a million bucks.

When we arrived back at his place—officially, for now, our place—we were both quiet in our thoughts. I was suddenly feeling shy again, not sure of what happened next. I guessed we might just separate into our two bedrooms, and call it a night.

But that didn’t feel right. Tonight was a big night. It meant something. And I didn’t want to say goodnight, not yet.

We were still standing out by the bike, just facing each other for a minute, and I spontaneously put my hands on either side of his neck and pulled his face down to mine, intending just to kiss his lips, in acknowledgement of the moment—well, that seemed as good an excuse as any.

He let me, and for several seconds it was a sweet, light, gentle kiss.

Then he groaned.

And we both immediately opened our mouths, our tongues came out lashing, and we were suddenly in a mad clasp of need and desire.

He tasted like whiskey and beer and heaven. His arms pulled me tight to his body so I could feel his hardness press against my belly. I grasped his hair and the back of his neck, trying to crawl up him for a better angle—the man was tall!

He read my need, and swung me up in his arms again, not even breaking the kiss. I don’t think I would have let him, had he tried. The next thing I knew, he had brought me inside and to his bedroom and set me down by the bed. It was then that he broke our delicious tongue-play.

“Are you okay…”

I smirked at him, dropped my new kutte to the floor, loosened the gown by the side zipper, and shimmied it down my body. I was left in a beautiful panty-and-bra set of white lace, and a kick-ass pair of white cowboy boots that Lena had lent me.

His jaw dropped, his pupils dilated, and he said, “Fuuuck.”

I took it as a compliment.

His hands roamed my body, from my collarbones down my arms to my hands, from my waist up to my breasts. I took the opportunity to peel his kutte off as well, and to unbutton his dress shirt and divest him of it. He spent some time appreciating my breasts and nipples through my bra; I spent some time tasting his neck, his chest, whatever I could reach.

He pulled himself away from me a few inches and unclasped my bra, peeled it off of me, and tossed it aside. Then with a growl he grasped my ass in both hands and dove for a nipple, sucking and nipping it, pinching and twisting the other for fair play. I gasped and writhed and threw my head back, wanting more.

“Tell me what you need,” he said.

“More. I need more, Jack.”

“What do you want?”

“Everything.”

The conversation brought me back to some level of consciousness, and I put my hands to work undoing his belt buckle and button-fly. Finally I got them open, and pushed both his jeans and boxers down over his hips, feeling the definition of his abs and that incredibly sexy V as I went. He allowed it for a minute, then took over again, lifting and lowering me onto the bed so he could rid himself of the last of his clothes, me of my boots, and he joined me on the bed. I watched, appreciative of the show, then as soon as he was about to settle himself on top of me I pushed him over and straddled his middle.

He grinned a little and raised an eyebrow. “You want something specific, Ellie?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Show me.”

I did.

I slid down his body, leading with my hands and following with my mouth, from his pecs to his nipples, giving them a fair amount of attention. He groaned, so I figured he liked that. His hands were still full with my breasts, which I liked.

Eventually I remembered to move along, sinking further down across his eight-pack—eight-pack!—to his belly button, to that phenomenal V of muscles on either side, and trailing my fingers through the sexy line of soft hairs that led to the glory that was his amazing, beautiful cock. He stood at full mast, long and thick, and if I hadn’t already had him inside of me once before, I would have begun to worry.

As it was, I knew I could take him, and I marveled at the phenomenon that was his entire body. I was practically giddy, but also too turned on to lose track of my goal.

I wanted to taste him. I wanted to explore the feel of him with my tongue and mouth and hands. I wanted to know what made him groan, or grunt, or push for more.

I wrapped my hand around his base as well as I could and pulled up to the head, watching his face as I did so. His eyes were closed and he tipped his head back. “Yeah. More.”

I happily complied. Rolling my thumb across the slit at the top of his cock, I spread the drop of pre-cum around, then rolled my hand back down to the base. My mouth finally descended and I licked the slit, then used the tip and the flat of my tongue to play with the head, explore the soft, silky texture of his skin, taste his cum, feel his size with my mouth.

He pushed his hips up, signaling me to accept more of him in my mouth, and I obliged. I took as much as I could, sucking and lathing, and he groaned his approval. There was no way I was going to be able to fit all of him in my mouth, so I kept my hands busy with the lower part of his shaft and played gently with his balls as well. He put a hand into my hair and pumped himself up and down with his hips while I worked him as best I could.

I could feel myself dripping down my thighs—he tasted amazing. I was in pure response mode. I hummed my own pleasure, and I could sense him re-adjusting a pillow behind his head. I peeked up, and sure enough, he was watching me work him over, his face fierce with desire, lips apart, lids lowered.

“Fuck, Ellie, yeah, baby.”

I smiled briefly and continued my attentions. By this time, I also had one hand down in my own panties. I don’t know when it got there, but he noticed.

He did a half sit-up, reached down to my side, and pulled my lower half until I had turned direction and he had my pussy over his face. “Fuck. I love your scent.”

Then he ripped my panties! Right off my body! And—praise God and all that exists—he suckled my clit. I threw my head back and gasped.

After a moment, he chuckled. “Focus, babe. Keep going.”

Oh, yeah. I had a toy, too.

We went at each other for…I had no idea for how long. It was amazing. It was the best thing outside of normal intercourse I had ever experienced. I had my mouth and senses filled with him, he had his with me. Our combined scents and groans and whimpers filled the air. My nerve center in his mouth was shooting off sparks that filled my whole body, and having his gorgeous cock to suck on only intensified the pleasure.

I could feel my body writhing on top of his. I clasped his legs with both hands over my head, bracing myself above him, rising and falling and sucking with my mouth, as his suckled and nipped and swathed my clit and my lower lips, his fingers busy exploring and pumping in and out of my pussy, and suddenly I was on the edge.

He intensified his actions even more, somehow, and that was it.

I released his cock and threw my head back. I couldn’t refrain from keening and bucking.

Then the whole cosmos exploded.

He flipped me over onto my back and was on top of me in seconds, allowing me to relax and drift back down in my time. He used it to reacquaint his mouth with my breasts and nipples again, his hands down at my ass and hips, massaging my softness.

Damn, that felt good. I drifted back to myself, and when I opened my eyes, I found Jack’s lasers on my face, watching, waiting. He hadn’t come yet, and his intensity was fierce, but he was showing extreme patience.

He licked his lips. “More, baby.”

“Yeah.” I breathed.

He reached over to his bedside table, slipped open the drawer, pulled out a foil square. He made quick work of putting on the glove, and came right back to where I lay. I hadn’t moved a muscle yet, so he resumed his place between my thighs.

He stayed on his knees, sat back on his heels, and urged me up. Once there, I propped my arms on top of his shoulders and he guided me down onto his big cock. My juices were running freely, and he eased in slowly, allowing us both fully to feel our joining. Our eyes were locked, our breaths shared, our skin slick with combined perspiration, our scents swirled together.

His length and thickness filled me more than any man I’d ever been with, and the initial penetration was a slow process. I loved the feel of him, and it took all my focus for long moments. By the time he finally got in as far as he could go, my head had fallen back again and I mewled. It just felt so incredible.

He gave me that moment, then growled, “Move, Ellie.” He wouldn’t let me back down.

I lifted my head again and got my legs and hips to work, sliding back up, feeling every inch as he came out slowly, then reversed direction just before we would have disengaged. I refused to go fast, just enjoying the sensation of his big cock losing and then taking up every bit of space inside of me. Our pelvises worked in tandem, and we both turned our eyes down to watch the progress—pumping, taking, merging—over and over again.

My breath began to hitch again as my nerves started to wind up. Sounds were escaping me, but I couldn’t control them. He started to go faster, his greater strength guiding my body up and down on his. By this time, my eyes were locked back onto his, my entire being focused on sensation.

The position eventually proved unsatisfactory to him, and once again he flipped us to a new one: this time, he was on his back and I was riding him, hard. I braced my hands on his chest, and my breasts were bouncing with every motion, but I couldn’t get enough. He brought a thumb to my clit and pressed it in circles, and I about lost my mind…but not quite enough, yet.

“More,” I nearly begged.

“Lean back, put your hands on my legs.”

Oh. This was new to me. I tried it.

Wow.

I had a harder time controlling the movement, but Jack must have known this would be the case. He did more of the work now, holding me steady, pumping hard. I could feel him in places I didn’t know were possible—was this that G spot everyone talked about?—and I just wanted it to go on and on and on…

I started to really need to come again.

“Ja—! Uhn—uhn—hn, Ja—” I couldn’t even say his name.

“Come on, baby, get there.”

I think I cried out helplessly, needfully. The position was amazing, but my arms were not wanting to support me any longer and I was struggling.

“I got you, baby. Hold on.”

And he flipped us again. This time, doggie style. I just about cried with relief, collapsing my upper body onto the bed and raising my ass to welcome him in from behind.

“Oh, yeah, Ellie. Gorgeous.”

He found his way inside again easily, holding my hips in his big hands, and with a more firm sense of control over our motions and the pumping action, he quickly brought me back to the edge of oblivion. He was driving fast and hard, grunting. I was gasping and mewling and desperate for release. Then he gave my clit his fingers again, and that was it.

I was gone into the sea of stars and nirvana.

As if from far away, I felt him drive only a few times more, and heard his final roar of release. Then he, too, collapsed, his arms on either side of me, his body stretched on top of my back.

It took us both several long moments to come back, and when we did, he rolled us both together onto our sides, so that he didn’t have to disengage immediately, but he was no longer putting all his weight on me.

After some time had passed, and we were both breathing evenly again, he whispered, “Don’t move” in my ear, disengaged from me, and got up briefly to get rid of the condom.

When he came back, he had brought a damp washcloth to clean me up. I don’t know where he picked up that idea, because in my experience, men only did that in romance novels. But he really did that. Could he get any better?

Apparently, yes. He climbed back into bed and re-spooned me. We just breathed, for several beautiful, long minutes.

And as I drifted off to sleep, I thought, in the back of my mind, that maybe this could be a real marriage. Maybe we were meant to be. Maybe he was my One.

When I woke up the next morning, he wasn’t there. But he had left a note on the pillow, and I smiled as I unfolded it, thinking it sweet of him not to wake me when he had to get up early.

Then I read the note.

Sorry. It won’t happen again. Promise. – J.

Chapter 19

Jack

I was living in hell. The past few days, I was spending most of my time at the shop or at the MC compound. I’d been drinking at night, trying not to think, and my days were spent suffering from the constant hangover.

It had only been two weeks, and I wasn’t sure if I could survive another five and a half months doing the same thing. But I couldn’t think of a better way to deal.

Obviously, I was avoiding going home, doing my best to steer clear of Ellie.

That night of our wedding was probably the single best night of my life.

Knowing that it was a one-off, that it would never be repeated—not any single part of it—that sucked balls.

What made it even worse was that thinking about her, looking at her, and knowing she was near had me in a constant state of semi- to full-on arousal. I had quickly realized that it was far healthier for me to avoid her and stay away from the house. I figured it was only for six months; I could do it.

There were several issues at stake, from my perspective. First and foremost, as my hard dick was an undeniably insistent motherfucker, was the sex issue. If I wasn’t going to have sex with Ellie, should I try to ease my constant hard-on with some other chick?

I considered looking to any of the variety of club bunnies to scratch my itch and unload my cock and blue balls. The bunnies were easy, readily available, and usually drama-free options.

But the thought of being with anyone not Ellie was strangely unappealing. It wasn’t about any traditional don’t-cheat-on-your-wife thing—though cheating had never been a part of who I was.

I never attached, so I could never be accused of cheating. I didn’t lie about it. Lying is work. I just preferred my freedom, lived moment-to-moment how I wanted, and made no promises to any woman. Life was easier that way.

But I had made promises to Ellie. And I’d broken the most important one once already. I swore—to her in the note, and to myself in my mind, on a daily basis—that I wouldn’t break it again.

The promise I had made to her in the wedding vows—I couldn’t make up my mind about how serious I was going to be about that. There was a case to be made that, since we both agreed not to sleep with each other, we should both be free to sleep with other people, if we so chose.

And that thought pissed me right, the fuck, off. The idea of her being with another man—that was unacceptable. My blood boiled just at the thought.

In fairness, I figured I ought not to consider being with another woman, and that I should make my thoughts on this issue explicitly understood by Ellie, ASAP. My MC brothers would have laughed at me if they knew I was seriously considering six months of celibacy—which is not something I had ever practiced or experienced before.

But fuck that. This was not about my rep or about what happened in MC culture. What it boiled down to was that I didn’t want Ellie to be with another man, and I myself didn’t want another woman—not any other woman.

Truth.

So, it looked like it would be celibacy for the next five and a half months.

I could do it. I could. But it sure as hell was not going to be fun.

Considering my acute reaction to Ellie every time I got near her, the obvious conclusion was that it was best I steer clear of her until the six months were over, and she got her money and we could both move on.

That was the mission.

Whenever I did happen to cross paths with her, going back to the house for clothes or something, it was awkward as hell. It was exactly what we were aiming not to deal with, thus the agreement not to complicate things with sex. Before I had gone and fucked it all up on our wedding night.

It was the best worst mistake I’d ever made.

But I was paying for it ever since—and would be, for who knew how long. That cost might go on for years: a forever-awkward tension between myself and little Peter’s mama.

Jeezus, is this what it was like to be a baby-daddy who split with his baby-mama? How many families went through this shit? Fuck. Avoiding this mess had been the whole purpose of the agreement.

Now that I had already gone and fucked it up, there was a part of me that tried to argue that continuing to fuck it up—and thereby, continuing to get to fuck the delectable, beautiful, insanely hot woman I wanted—would be no worse than what I had already done, so why not continue the course, at least for the six months we were going to remain married?

There was actually a line of sense in there. It was buried, but it was in there.

But I knew that wasn’t what Ellie wanted. She wanted nothing more to do with me. She’d made that much very clear, with her silent censure. Crystal.

I had no idea what had been going through Ellie’s mind in the couple of weeks since the explosion. —And yeah, that was what I was calling it. It seemed apt.

Now, she barely spoke to me. She walked around me as if she were on eggshells. She rarely looked me in the eye. She wasn’t rude, but she was short with the small talk, which suited me just as well, too. And she had stopped smiling at me altogether.

When she blushed—which still happened—I knew it wasn’t something she could control. Then she’d avoid eye contact that much more, and she got a fierce look on her face, like she was angry with herself. I could hardly blame her. I had a similar problem, but mine was only slightly easier to hide under cover of untucked shirts.

All in all, it was a fucking miserable situation.

# # #

“Jack-o, man, you got a call! Line two, it’s Ellie!” Trini’s voice was like a drill in my skull. —But wait, Ellie was calling me? Shit, something had to be wrong. She wouldn’t be calling me otherwise. I knew that in my gut.

I picked up, fast as. “Ellie? What’s wrong?”

“He’s gone. Peter’s gone! I don’t know wher—“

“What the fuck do you mean, Peter’s gone? How can—“

“I don’t know! He’s not here! I put him down an hour ago, then was doing laundry and cleaning up, and I came back in here, and—“

“Is he crawling yet? Did he start? Did you look in the closet, in the hall—“

“Jack! No! He’s gone! As in, he’s not in his basket, he’s not in the bed, he’s not in the hou—“

“Well where the fuck could he—“

“Stop yelling at me! Jack, please. Help me find my baby. Just, help me—“

“Stay there. I’m coming. Be there in five.”

As I grabbed my keys and wallet from my desk, I yelled out to Grath, who had obviously overheard and was already at my office door, looking like he was about to bust some balls, “I’m going back to the house. Ellie’s totally freaked. Peter’s missing. Call the boys, get ’em over there. If Peter’s been taken, we ride. Can’t think but it must be McAfee. We gotta canvas, or something.”

“On it.” And he was gone.

I ran out the door to my bike, and I made it home in four.

Chapter 20

Ellie

I’d never in my life been so scared. Twenty-six hours, and nothing. Not a peep. No baby sounds, no cries, no gurgles, no groans. No Peter. I was about to rip my hair out and absolutely lose my fucking mind.

The whole MC was out in force—and had been, ever since yesterday, when they all came pouring into the front yard, about ten to fifteen minutes after I had first called Jack at the shop. They all came running, like Peter was their own. That still amazed me. But I didn’t get lost in that thought—the crushing reality of my baby missing from the house, from my life, took priority over anything else that was going on.

I was a mess—all anxiety mixed with zombie, going through the motions because there was nothing else I could do. I wasn’t mindfully present. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, could barely answer questions.

Every time the phone rang, I jumped. Every time I heard a bike or a car pull up, I ran to the door, throwing it open, hoping against hope that it would be someone—anyone—with news of my baby, of where he was, how he was, when I would have him back.

Nothing. Not a goddamned peep.

We all figured it had to have been psycho Brian who had taken my baby, when I was in the laundry area inside the garage. It was the only rationale that made sense of Peter’s absence.

We told the cops, when they came yesterday, the whole sordid story. It took freaking forever to tell, and they were here about five hours making sure they were getting all the details, and dusting my room and the doors to the house and all over the place for any fingerprints that Brian might have left, just to confirm it was him.

All that time, and I was about crawling out of my skin. Brian—presuming it was him—had my baby. Peter was not well, he needed me. He needed me to eat. He needed me to watch over him, he needed me to love him, to always be there for him, and he didn’t have me now. He had crazy-as-fuck Brian McAfee, who didn’t know about Peter’s special needs as a preemie with a heart condition. He didn’t know what signs or symptoms to look for should Peter grow ill. He didn’t know my baby, he didn’t love my baby. What kind of care could he possibly be giving to Peter? Oh, God—was Peter still even…

No. I cut myself off from any such thoughts. Peter was alive. He had to be. I’d know, somehow, in my heart, if he wasn’t. Right?

These thoughts had been tumbling around and around in my head, non-stop, since I first discovered that my little bean was gone, and they showed no signs of abating or stopping.

The phone had been ringing a lot, with MC guys calling in, checking up on me, and to see if we had heard anything yet. Of course, we hadn’t. They were all on the roads, searching as best they could for any signs of Brian’s last known vehicle as listed with state records in Oregon. I didn’t think that was going to do any good, but there was little else to go on.

Brian, being an outdoor enthusiast, was a seasoned camper and hiker. He was a mountain biker. He was very fit. He had been off-radar for many months between when Keith died and the day he showed up and threw the rock through Jack’s window. He could have made a base camp literally anywhere in Arizona, or in New Mexico, or…anywhere.

I had no idea where my baby was. Or if he was being cared for. Or if…

I forced myself to stop the whirl of thoughts as they descended again. The cops were looking. The MC was looking. An Amber Alert had gone out yesterday, and people everywhere were looking. I had to believe that someone, somewhere, had seen Brian, seen something. And that soon I would have my baby back.

My world had become a nightmare, and there was no waking up.

# # #

“Ellie, your phone is ringing, hon. Here you go.” Holly brought it over to me on the couch—I must have left it on the counter in the kitchen. I wasn’t processing everything like I normally would. I felt dissociated from the outside world, from the people around me, from everything. All I could think about was Peter.

“Ellie, pick up the call. It says ‘Caller: Unknown’. It might be the guy. Answer it.”

I shook my head, clearing out the cobwebs, and looked at the phone. She was absolutely right, and suddenly my mind snapped to and I swiped right to accept the call.

“Hello?”

“Say my name.”

I barely recognized the voice at all, but I knew it was Brian. It had to be. The only person calling my cell phone was Jack, and his name showed up as a contact.

“Brian.” I barely had a voice, I was so nervous. It came out almost like a whisper.

“I knew you would know it was me. I knew you would. Come back to me, Ellie. You have to, now.”

“Where’s Peter? Where’s my baby, Brian?” My voice got stronger. I could do this.

“That baby cries a lot, Ellie. How do you stand it? Do you really want a baby that cries so much?”

Was he nuts?—Oh, crap, yes, of course he was. What the hell kind of a person asks a mother if she wants her baby, just because he cries? …Then I realized: at least Brian was referring to Peter in the present tense. That gave me hope that—at least, so far—Peter was okay.

“Brian, tell me where you are, where Peter is. I need my baby. I just want my baby back.” I knew I was crying; I’d been crying so much, it felt like I’d never stop. It garbled my voice some, and I knew Brian could hear it. A part of me hated giving that to him, the knowledge that he hurt me, that he had made me cry. But the bigger part of me just felt so much loss, so much emptiness, that I was powerless to control the sobs.

“I need you to come to me, Ellie. You have to come to me. Alone. Just you. And finally it will just be us. Don’t bring any of those people. That man that you’ve been living with. Don’t bring him, Ellie. I’m warning you. You come alone, and I’ll take you to your screamin’ kid. And we’ll see what we want to do with him then. But you bring anybody—anybody—with you, and you won’t like what’s gonna happen. You hear me?”

“Yes. Yes, okay. I hear you. I should come alone. Where do you want me to go, to meet you? Where are you?”

“Chiricahua. You gotta get to the Echo Canyon trailhead. Then start on the trail. I’ll find you there. And remember, Ellie, you come alone. Or I swear, you won’t have a baby to worry about any more.”

And he hung up.

Chapter 21

Jack

We all headed straight to Chiricahua from wherever we were on the road, without passing Go and without collecting two hundred dollars.

I got there about the same time Ellie did—she took my truck, in which I had secured Peter’s infant seat weeks ago to keep her from ever using the deathtrap piece of shit she had been driving. I’d actually been closer to the park than most since I’d been scouring the south side of Tucson and the desert surrounding, and I could maneuver faster on the bike. I wanted to get maps and the lay of the land as soon as fucking possible, to start to formulate a plan for taking this asshole down.

As an MC, it was SOP to have a messaging system that spread word of marching orders to every member in quick time. So my brothers all turned on a dime, and were all arriving en masse, the only stragglers being those who had been on the north side of the city, and those further upstate. But they were on their way, too. All in.

Many of them had stopped along the way to fill up paniers with water bottles and snacks, trail mixes and bars, in preparation for whatever time we would spend in the park. The Arizona sun is a fierce bitch, and we would all need both sustenance and water to function for any amount of time spent there. My boys came ready, and brought enough for Ellie and myself and anyone else who may not have thought to pause in the rush to get there.

When Ellie pulled up and saw us waiting for her in the parking lot, she started crying again. Did she think she was actually going to be alone for this ordeal? Damn. She probably did. The woman didn’t yet know who we were.

It was the old ladies who had been hanging with her at the house who sounded the alarm about the phone call with McAfee. They had been listening to Ellie’s part, and put together easily enough what directions the psycho gave my wife. They called me first, then their men, and we were off. The system did exactly what it was supposed to.

She climbed down from the truck and came straight into my arms.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. We’re gonna do this. We get Peter back today. Yeah? We got this, Ellie. This ends today.” She nodded, mopped up her eyes on my sweaty tee, and lifted her blotchy face to me.

“I didn’t expect…”

“You gotta trust us, babe. We will have your back. He said Echo Canyon Trail, right? Okay. Look at this. That trail is way over there, on the east side, so we’re not near the trailhead now. I’ll take you there on the bike, we’ll all be heading over there. The guys who aren’t here yet are gonna be coming in from where we are now, so in case he manages to run and tries to get out this way, he’ll run into them. But all the guys here now, we come with you, and then we’ll follow behind you on the trail. Once you meet up with McAfee, and he takes you to his camp, you gotta trust that we are on your tail, we will take that motherfucker out, and we are going to get both you and Peter out. Alive and well. You with me?”

Relief flooded her face, and more tears—but thank Christ, this time, no sobs—and she nodded her head with more determination. She was strong. It did my heart good to see it.

We hooked her up with a CamelBak filled with a double supply of water and a bunch of trail bars and a few small bags of cheese puff snacks—they were the easiest breadcrumb variation to follow. Then we all were back on the bikes and headed around the park to the campsite closest to the trailhead.

We staggered parking along the off-road track in order to hide the roar of the engines should McAfee have had an ear tuned for us.

Once off the bike, I took Ellie’s hand and intertwined our fingers, leading her to the trailhead. There, I turned her to face me, and took her other hand as well. I needed her to listen to me, to concentrate, and get all of my instructions down. She was new to Arizona, and there was a lot she needed to be aware of.

“You getting an idea of this park, Ellie? It’s completely crazy, the whole thing, and it gets worse the further you go in. It’s a confusing madhouse.

“So you stay on the trail until Brian finds you. Do not take even one step off of it. When McAfee meets up with you, I’m pretty sure you’ll go off-trail quick. Drop those cheese puffs immediately, right there, and keep dropping as much as you can, every few feet.

“If this is where he’s been hiding out for months, he’ll know his way around. He won’t like seeing you drop a trail, Ellie. Do it on the sly. You got plenty of packs in there, use them.

“We will be right behind you. Know that. But you won’t see us. You have to trust me, trust all of us, to have your back. Okay, baby?”

Her eyes were wide with fear and worry, but she nodded and swallowed.

“Also, you gotta drink lots of water. Keep drinking. This sun will kill. We don’t know how long this is gonna take, right? So keep drinking, eat your bars, drop the puffs.

“Let us worry about McAfee, once he finds you. Doubtful he’s gonna have Peter with him when he does—more likely, he’s gonna have camp set up somewhere. You just make him take you there. It’s what he wants to do, anyway. Let him. Try not to let him touch you, though. Makes me crazy to think of his hands on you.

“But the main thing is, you get to Peter, first. We’re packing—all of us. Even you. I put a small handgun in your pack, tucked in between the water reservoirs and your back, you see? It’s locked and loaded. Here, let me show you.”

I slipped it out and showed her how to unlock, and lock, and unlock, and lock it again.

“You only use this if you really have to, El. I hope to God you don’t need to, but I wouldn’t feel right sending you out there without it. You got it if you need it.

“But remember: it’s not on you to take him down. Let us do that. You just get to the baby, do what you need to, to take care of him. We’re gonna be minutes, at most, right behind you. We got this, El.”

She nodded, and I wrapped my arms around her, my head bowed down to face-plant in her hair, breathing her in. We stayed there for long moments. I think she was gathering her courage, while I was willing her strength and comfort and determination.

I hated sending her out there, alone, to meet the fuck-wad who had stolen her baby and continually fucked with her peace of mind. I’d had enough. This ended today. On that point, I was fucking determined. McAfee was done. It was just a matter of minutes now.

But as much as I hated the circumstances today, I was aware that a part of me was thriving like it hadn’t done in weeks. I loved that she was seeking me out for comfort, and that she was putting her trust in me. I felt good about us again, and I knew I would always do everything in my power to make sure she was protected and safe.

She was mine. Peter was mine. No matter what any agreement was, no matter whether we were married or not.

I had got my woman back, and despite the unknown that was on our immediate horizon in this park, I felt better and stronger and more sure than ever. We were gonna be good. I knew it.

I tightened my hold on her briefly, kissed the top of her head, and whispered, “You ready?”

She backed up, put her hands on my ribs and pushed me away, then tipped her head up to look me straight in the eye. With great determination, she spoke, low but strong. “Yes. I’m ready.”

Damn. She was fierce. I nodded, and went for her hand again, to give her one more minute of my support and strength—

And she pulled away. She wouldn’t look at me anymore. Obviously, she didn’t want to touch me anymore.

That fucking hurt.

But she needed to do what she needed to do, and I got that. I didn’t like it, but I understood it.

And I respected her for it.

She wasn’t hesitating now. She strode straight over to the trailhead, dug into her bag for the first pack of cheese puffs, pulled it open, and began her journey into the twisted rock formations.

My heart clenched for a moment, and then I got a grip. I had a job to do, and it was time to do it.

I grabbed up my own backpack of water reservoirs and snacks, checked that my holstered guns were strapped and fully loaded, signaled to my brothers that we were moving, and followed her two minutes later.

It was go-time.

Chapter 22

Ellie

When I walked away from Jack and entered the trailhead, I felt like I had finally gotten a firm grip on my priorities.

Jack was not one of them.

I needed to focus solely on Peter.

Relying on Jack, leaning on him, was disastrous for me personally. I had finally figured that out. I was in this alone. All I had was Peter, and once I got him back, Peter would be my lodestone.

Not that I wasn’t grateful and super-appreciative of all the help and support and generosity of Jack and all of the Iron Bandits, including the old ladies. They were awesome to me, and to Peter, and I felt way better about entering this trailhead knowing they had my back, and had a plan for taking down the psycho. My newest determination to keep independent of Jack really had nothing to do with today’s activities, which considered alone, might have made me come to a completely opposite realization.

But I also knew that once today was over, I needed to be Jack-free. I needed to focus on building a life as a single mom for my sweet son, because I was utterly determined that I would get him back. Within minutes, hopefully, or hours, at most, I prayed to God.

Oh, I knew what Jack said, what he had meant when he told me that the MC would all have my back. That was the way they functioned, and since Keith had been among their members, I also understood that they would always be there for me and Peter, should we ever need them like this in the future—good God, but I hoped not. Once was plenty, thank you very much. More than enough.

But leaning too much on Jack, focusing too much on Jack, made me lose track of my baby. My mind had been on Jack, not on Peter, when Brian had entered the house and stolen my son. I had forgotten to turn the alarm back on after a quick run to the grocery store yesterday morning, as well. It was a series of unfortunate events, really. But every time my mind wandered to all things Jack-related, it was like I got lost in a fog.

And that was unsafe for Peter. I needed to cut that crap out of my life. It made me a bad mother. And that was unacceptable.

So, Jack had to go. Regardless of how great he was being today. That hug he gave me just before I started out on the trail, to me was like a send-off. I chose to take it that way. I knew that’s not exactly what he was probably thinking about, but it’s where I needed to go with it. So when I pulled away, I was ready. For Brian. For Peter. For whatever came next.

I was going to get my son back. And then, I was going to be Super Mom.

I was going to kick ass, starting immediately.

# # #

I followed the twisty-turny trail, in awe of my surroundings. The living rock formations were like something out of a Hollywood movie set for Planet Freak Out. They were huge boulder-like things, but also like columns, rising in bunches and dotting the land everywhere I could see.

The trail made no obvious linear sense, and I almost got dizzy as I followed the path.

Just being on the trail alone was a scary thing. I felt vulnerable. It took an effort not to look behind me, like Orpheus, in search of a chance sighting of Jack or any of the MC guys.

But I remembered my determination, stiffened my spine, and plunged onward. I could do this, and I would. Peter was out there, and he needed me. That was all that mattered.

I walked onward for what felt like forever, but what was probably closer to a half-hour, maybe forty minutes. The landscape had opened up enough for me to see that I was generally following along the bottom of a canyon, with walls rising up to be topped off by more of those amazing, intimidating rock columns. If Brian had wanted to choose a campgrounds that would give him an advantage over a person less familiar with outdoor survival—like myself—he could hardly have made a better choice. Had I not known that the MC was at my back, I would have been entirely freaked out by now.

The trail took another curve, and the vista narrowed again. It was beautiful, but also somewhat suffocating. I stopped for a moment in some shade to dig out a trail bar and sip some water, when I heard something rustle ahead.

Finally. Brian appeared, complete with camo paint on his face. What a fucking freak.

But then again, I thought, the saying was true. Just because a person might be paranoid, doesn’t mean they’re not out to get him. There was a whole pack of people out to get Brian today.

Before he got very close, I pretended to jostle myself awkwardly, adjusting my backpack, in order to dump some of the cheese puffs on the ground, to mark the meeting spot.

Brian noticed, but didn’t realize the significance. He smirked.

“Where’s my baby?” I wasn’t going to waste time. He knew I was here for one purpose, so there was no point in making small talk.

“Safe enough. God, but you are a sight for sore eyes, Ellie. You look beautiful.” He was really cracked.

“Bring me to my baby, you psychopath.” I was not going to play nice. I saw no benefit in playing games with this man.

“Just let me hold you for a minute, Ellie. We’ve been waiting for so long.”

Whaaat? Um, no.

“Brian, please. I really need to feed him. Just get me to my baby, let me feed him, then we can catch up.” I hoped that would put him off, and get me what I needed, without more delay. Clearly, he was delusional. I’d have to play his game, from the looks of it. But I would play it my way.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. That kid cries so much, Elsabeth.”—I flinched at the made-up nickname.—“ I don’t know how you stand it. I almost went out of my mind last night, couldn’t sleep, he was crying so hard, all night long, felt like.”

I felt the blood flood my head, and my vision nearly went red. My ears pounded with my heartbeat. I hated this man with every fiber of my being.

“Let’s go, Brian.”

He tried to take my hand, but I pulled it away, and indicated he needed to go ahead of me, to lead the way. He looked dejected for a moment, furrowed his brow, and muttered, “So difficult. Why do you have to be so difficult?” But he did as I bade, and we finally began moving.

It was easy, with him in front, for me to leave the trail of cheese puffs. So that part of the plan was working out well. I hadn’t heard so much as a rustle of dead bush or leaf or the pop of dried twigs coming from behind me. Either Jack and the guys were way far behind us, or they were stealth-maneuver masters.

After a few minutes on the trail, Brian took us off-trail at a sharp angle around a short but deadly-looking cactus. I dumped the whole rest of my bag there in an arc; Brian didn’t turn around to notice. I couldn’t believe my luck. The guy was way less with it than I had imagined—and I hadn’t been giving him much credit for greatness, before.

I quickly plucked another bag of puffs out of my pack and opened it, popping one in my mouth when Brian turned to check that I had followed his curve.

“Mm. I love cheese puffs.” And he back-tracked to me and opened his mouth, like a baby bird for me to feed. Ew.

“Here, take the bag if you want some, Brian. I want my own bag.” I was not going to hand-feed this psycho.

“Thanks, darlin’. You do know how to take care of me, don’t you? It’s part of why I love you so much. You’re the best.” And he smiled at me.

I did my best to smile back, but it was so extremely fake that I felt it must more resemble a grimace than a smile. He failed to notice the difference, took the bag, and raised my extended hand to his mouth to kiss. I pulled it away before he got there, and pretended like I had an itch on my arm. He watched me for a moment, and seemed to get lost in thought.

“Brian! Come on. Let’s go. I really need to get to Peter. Like, now. How much farther do we need to go?”

“Not much, darlin’. Just a few minutes away.”

Well. A few turned into probably twenty-five, but who was counting?

All the while, I was thinking about what I might do, myself, to get Peter and myself away from Brian without the help of the MC guys. After all, I had heard nothing the whole way along, and was beginning to wonder if they were really out there behind me or not. Better that I sort out a plan for myself, just in case. If they did happen to show up and do something, great. But I was not going to be up shit creek without a paddle. I had brains, and I would use them.

Even so, I kept it up with the cheese puffs—no point in not using a tool when one is given. Even if the MC guys gave up and turned around, I would need the trail to get Peter and myself out of here.

Eventually, we finally got close. I knew it when I heard the very unhappy, weak wails of my son from somewhere in a close vicinity, hidden from my sight by an outcropping of those damned rocks.

I started running toward the sound, having to trail around the formations as I went, and making several wrong choices along the way. This I knew from the deranged laughter of the psychopath behind me, but I didn’t let it slow me down. I knew I was close—I just kept moving toward the soft wails as best I could, trailing those freaking cheese puffs the whole way along in a steady stream from the now-down-tipped bag.

But finally—finally—I saw the site. Brian had a grey camo tent set up, a firepit built, and two  camping recliner chairs set up. He had a cooler outside, a blanket spread out, and a dry-line hung for laundry. How long had he been here?

…Never mind. The thought had occurred, but I didn’t care about the answer. All that mattered was Peter, who I still did not see. I figured he had to be inside the tent, and as I approached it, I found this to be true.

Without looking behind me, I dove in without grace, but carefully enough so I wouldn’t trip over my baby if he was right there at the entrance flap.

He wasn’t. He was tucked up in a bunch of blankets, on his back, wedged in so he couldn’t go anywhere.

Well. At least Brian had had enough sense to secure him in one place, so he couldn’t roll around and hurt himself. That was something.

Peter’s color looked okay, but he had sweated through his onesie. This might be a bad sign, with regard to his heart. Or it could just be a natural outcome of more than a day spent in terrible conditions in a tent in southern Arizona. Hard to tell.

The smell in the tent was horrible, and I figured his diaper hadn’t been changed the whole time he had been away from me. My poor baby. I mentally cursed Brian in as many ways as my mind could come up with.

When Peter first saw me, I think I shocked him. He stopped crying for a minute, and just watched me with his big beautiful eyes. Then, assured that it was indeed his momma, he really let loose with the wails, as if to let me know how unhappy he was about my neglect. It made me want to cry, too. But I had a priorities list now, and crying was not on it.

First things first. I plucked a diaper, some wipes, and a fresh onesie from my bag—the ladies had packed it for me yesterday, and made sure I had it when I left the house in such a rush and without all my brain neurons firing. Thank God for the ladies!

Once Peter was clean, I took him outside with me and settled us on one of the camping chairs. Brian had waited outside—surely avoiding the odiferousness of the tent interior—and now watched me with greedy eyes. I did my best to ignore him.

With a blanket over my shoulder to shield his view, I settled Peter down and felt him latch on to a swollen nipple. My overly-swollen breasts were painfully ready to unload, and it was a great relief when Petey began to suckle. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. No more wailing, no more nasty diaper smell, and the promise of total relief of the mammaries to come. Peace, of a kind.

“Why are you covering yourself? I want to watch. I want to see.”

He was whining like a child. Seriously, dude?

“Brian, I don’t know if you are aware, but we are in the middle of the desert in southern Arizona. The sun is brutal, and Peter’s skin—not to mention my own—is not prepared for it. I need to cover us both up for safety.”

It was the first excuse that popped into my head, but it was also true, and it worked. Score one, for me.

“It’s okay. I’ll get to watch later. I can wait. We can make an occasion of it. Baby’s last meal! Ha ha ha!”

Fuck. I had to think of something, fast. No way would we be hanging around long enough for him to hurt my baby. This had just turned into a deadly stand-off.

I decided that the MC guys only had as long as it took me to finish feeding Peter to intervene. If they took any longer than that, I wasn’t going to wait. I was going to shoot Brian myself, with that gun Jack had hooked me up with. And I would do it without any hesitation.

Thank God for Jack, and that beautiful handgun.

Chapter 23

Jack

The whole time I’d been following Ellie on the trail, I had plenty of time to do some thinking.

I loved her. I wanted her—not just for the sex, which was obviously excellent. But more, everything about her blew me away. She was beautiful, smart, strong, funny, kind—an amazing woman and mother. I knew I would never meet another like her, not in this life. And I knew, in my heart, that she was mine.

Just like Peter was mine. He may have been born of my brother’s seed, but the way things had played out, there was no other man alive who could ever feel for that boy what I did. So he was mine, too.

It drove me crazy that Ellie was up there, ahead of me by only minutes, with that fucking psycho. I willed her to be smart—I really didn’t have to worry much about that, she was smart—so that we could end this awful day on a high note. A ton of scenarios flitted through my mind, and to each I conjured take-downs that ended with McAfee a bloody mess, and Ellie and Peter in my arms.

Then, I would turn this disaster of a sham marriage into the real thing. Since they were both mine already, there was no reason for us not to—unless, of course, Ellie really wanted out of it. But I couldn’t see that. I figured we were both miserable not being together, so the obvious solution to all our problems was to just be together.

And that’s what drove me. That idea filled me with anticipatory gladness. That was my light at the end of this fucking tunnel from Hell.

When I finally made the final turn around a rock column outcrop, I let out a breath in relief and repositioned myself a step back. I could see Ellie just settling down to nurse Peter in a low camping seat near the tent. The lowness of the seat put her at a distinct disadvantage, as far as movement went. With the baby in her arms, she’d have a difficult time getting up, should she need to in a rush. McAfee was talking to her, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.

I indicated to the guys behind me to fan out, to encircle the area so we could close in like a noose. No way in fuck was this cretin going to get out of here freely. It would take several minutes for everyone to make it around, so I watched the camp while I waited.

The difficulty for us, of course, was in the outcroppings and general terrain, which was packed with various cacti and spine-laden growths. The desert was no place for the weak. And Brian appeared well-settled in here—he even had a clothesline hanging. Seriously.

Still, we were more than thirty strong in number—that only counted the men who had made it here in time to be part of this take-down. And several in our ranks were military-trained, practiced, licensed, and tested. Not to mention, we had some true native blood—including one guy, Patch, who boasted his Apache lineage to all and sundry. Since we were on his own home territory, the very site of Geronimo’s decades-long stand-off with the U.S. and Mexican militias, Patch was in prime mode for one hell of a fight today. The guy was pumped up. If things hadn’t been so serious, I would have laughed. As it was, I was goddamned thankful to have him on our side.

Because of the massive proportions of the rock columns surrounding McAfee’s camp, our sightlines were severely limited. So the idea was to form the circle, then close ranks. We’d have to tighten the noose in order to act. So be it.

When enough minutes had passed that I figured everyone had to have either gotten into place or close enough, I looked one more time to see what Brian was doing. He was standing over Ellie and Peter, with her backpack in one hand, hefting it, testing its weight. Shit. Looked like it was go-time now, before he discovered the gun I’d put in there for her.

But wait—what was she doing? Damn, my woman was smart. She had him handing the pack to her, and she started to dig through it with her free arm, looking—or pretending to look—for…

What the fuck was she doing?—She had Peter nursing in one arm, and her little gun trained on the psycho with the other.

Jeezus! “GO!” I yelled, and we all ran in, closing the circle, guns drawn, all beaded on McAfee, who was also looking in surprise at Ellie, from just a few feet away.

We weren’t quiet anymore. We used our own version of a rebel yell, which echoed strongly in the rocks and must have shocked the hell out of McAfee, who immediately moved to close behind Ellie’s seat, between her and the tent, and he whipped out a switchblade and held it at her neck while watching us all close in. His other arm had knocked the gun right out of her hand and it flew several feet away from them. Then he wrapped that arm around her shoulders to keep her in place.

Fuck. The guy was strong and fast.

“You want her dead? Keep coming,” McAfee yelled out.

Almost as one, we stopped in our tracks.

I called out, “We got you, you fuckface. You’re trapped in here, no way out. You want to add murder to the kidnapping charges?” I thought about Keith, and how murder should already by on his rap sheet, but we didn’t have proof of that. Not yet, anyway.

“Back off, biker. She’s mine. She’s just been waiting for me to get everything ready for her. Now she’s here—by choice, I’ll point out—and you need to accept reality and leave. All of you. Just go. You have no right to be here. Ellie came to me, just like I dreamed. Just like I knew she would. It was perfect. You shouldn’t be here. Go away!”

Jesus. This guy was seriously cracked.

Ellie was carefully not moving her head—that knife had her chin lifted, and it was close to her jugular. But she spoke up, anyway. “Brian, please put that knife away. Nobody wants anybody here to get hurt. You don’t need it. Just put it away.”

I can’t say I thought that was going to be a successful attempt at decelerating the crazy, but I’d give her points for imagination.

“Ellie, make them go away. It’s supposed to be just you and me. I told you. I told you, on the phone, just you and me. Or…or now, now I have to take that noisy baby away. Why did you lie to me, Ellie? Huh? You promised you’d come alone. Bitch!”

He wasn’t in the best position to do anything other than a fatal slash to her throat, which he obviously didn’t want to do, because instead, he used his free hand to tug away the small blanket she had draped over Peter and her shoulder, to shield them from the sun and prying eyes while she fed him.

She gasped at the movement, but it freed her just enough—and in that exact moment when McAfee’s attention was not on his knife hand—she used her free arm to push his knife-wielding wrist away from her neck as she hefted her body to angle away from him. Brian was caught off-guard, and almost tipped over onto the ground.

If that damned camping chair hadn’t been so low to the ground, Ellie might have had a shot at getting away then. But as it was, it was too deep-set, too awkward—especially with the baby in her arms—and she ended up tipping herself over, almost squashing Peter on the ground.

She caught herself before her weight crushed him, but he started squalling, and she was panicking that she had hurt him and also trying to watch Brian at the same time.

Brian self-corrected from his awkward tip and grabbed the chair-back again—like that was going to protect him—before he realized he really needed Ellie’s body to be his shield, not the chair.

He was clearly about to dive onto her and Peter, probably with the intention of rolling them on top of himself, but our secret weapon—in the form of Target, who was a veteran sniper, served duty in Afghanistan and Iraq—got him first. Thank God for Target.

McAfee was hit in the shoulder before he’d even had a chance to fly on top of Ellie, and the impact of the bullet had his body whip back a bit. Target took another shot, and McAfee was down on his back, too shocked even to make a sound.

We all came running forward at that point. Most of the guys went to secure McAfee, while me and Grath and a couple other guys headed for Ellie and the baby.

She was crying, Peter was wailing—but they were both unharmed. I was so relieved, I couldn’t do anything but put myself on the ground beside her, pick her up—while she clasped Peter—and hug the both of them in my arms, feeling their heat, and hearing their breaths. I buried my face in her hair for a minute, before I lifted my head.

Brushing loose strands of hair off her cheek, I held her eyes. “It’s over. You okay? Peter okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. I think we’re both okay.”

We sat there a minute, just breathing, before she pulled herself away from me and, focusing on Peter, started baby-talk soothing him. Grath had grabbed the baby bag and set it nearby, and she dug in for a pacifier and a clean blanket.

Bull came over with some water and granola bars for all of us, which were accepted and ingested with great appreciation.

The circle of men who secured McAfee while I had been focused on Ellie had opened up, and it was clear from his bloody and somewhat rearranged face that he’d been treated to a classic MC smackdown. Good. He deserved it.

Watching him, I thought about the hell he’d put Ellie and Peter—and me, and all the rest of us—through in the last thirty hours.

Fuck that. The man had murdered my brother. He stole that life from us. From Peter. From me. I fucking hated this motherfucker. I needed to get some payback.

“Grath!” I called out.

“’Sup?” he asked

“Make sure she does not see this.” Grath followed my eyes to McAfee, and he nodded. “On it.”

I made my way over to him, leaned low to get in his face, and said, “You remember me?”

“Yessssssss.” He was still capable of some attitude, then. Good. Gave me more to work with.

“You remember my brother?”

“Yo’…who?”

“My brother, dickwad. Big guy, bigger than you. Little smaller than me. Was friends with Ellie at that bar last year. Took you down one night, I heard. My brother.”

“That was…” And he started laughing, in that horrible nasty way that bloody fucked-up faces laugh, like death was knocking at the village gate.

“That. Was. My. Brother.”

“Yeah, well, took care of him, did’n I?” He was still laughing.

“Thought that was you. Know it for sure now.”

“Yeah. Tha’ was a fun nigh’.”

I breathed in through my nose, keeping it together. “Where’s the gun?”

“You’d like to know, huh?”

“Gotta be here, huh, McAfee? In your tent? I’ll find it. But first, I got some gifts for you.” And I laid in.

I might have kicked the man a few—many—times when he was down. He fucking had it coming.

My attention over the next few minutes was all on McAfee, making sure he was feeling more pain, and that he was aware it was me giving it to him. Target’s second shot had got him in his lower right ribs—he probably had a cracked rib and a punctured lung, but it wasn’t a death shot.

Some of the guys eventually pulled me away, and they took over tying his ass up, and letting some more steam off on him when they felt it necessary.

I called out to Bull, told him to check the tent for the gun that killed Keith. He was all over that shit, made sure the guys breaking down camp were catching everything they could as evidence. Smartphones were out in force, photos and videos were taken, the works.

Grath had called Steph, who was coming out with his own team, but they’d be awhile on the road. Still, I was reassured that everything was being done right to take this motherfucker off the streets for the better part of the rest of his life, if not all of it. He was going down, long and hard.

By the time I made it back to Ellie’s side, she was looking relieved and—something else, but I couldn’t read it. One thing was clear: she was ready to go, as she finished tying up the huge long scarf she used to carry Peter around in, making a massive X across her chest.

“How’s he doing?” I asked, putting my hand lightly against his back, trying to feel his breathing, desperate to touch him and see for myself that the kid was okay. Damn, thirty-so hours was a long fucking time. It was really just hitting me now, how scared I had been—and how scared Ellie must have been.

I’d been working: on the road, searching, hunting, making calls, doing sweeps. Active. I hadn’t allowed myself time to stop and think much. But Ellie, she had been at home, just waiting for a call with news or …

But now that we had Peter back, secure, alive—now I felt it. And the fear, and the relief—I got something in my eyes again. Shit.

“He’s okay. He ate—poor little guy was hungry. I think he’s gotta be dehydrated. I don’t think he ate the whole time he was gone. He was crying so hard, but it was so weak…”

“We gotta get him checked out, Ellie. ASAP.”

“Yeah, I know. We have to go. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t care what happens with Brian—I don’t want to wait around to find out. I need to get Petey out of here. Like, now, Jack.”

I nodded, completely in agreement. “Hold on, let me get Patch. He’s got a sidecar on his bike, brought that one for a reason. You climb in there, and we’re out of here. You sure you want to be the one to carry the baby on the trail? We can wrap him on me, might be easier for you.”

She thought about it for a second, but shook her head. “No, thanks. He’s mine. He needs me. I’ll be okay. I just want to go.”

I looked at her a second, knowing there was more to her rejection than the surface intention, but not clear on what it really meant. Still, she was the mama, she got to make that call.

“Be right back.” I then hailed Patch to join us—he would, after all, be a hero of the day—and we were off, following the cheese puff trail.

It didn’t take that long for us to get back to the trailhead—I carried all our bags except for her water-pack, which I had unloaded of all other non-essentials.

We got back to the main parking lot in record time. As I got her and Peter settled back in the truck, I asked her, “You sure you’re okay to drive? I could leave my bike here, come back for it tomorrow or something. No need for you to drive unless you want to. You’ve been through a lot, baby.”

“No, I’m okay. I can make the drive. Peter’s exhausted, he’s just gonna sleep. He’s fed, he’ll be fine. I just need to go now, Jack. I just need to go.” Her eyes were pleading.

The woman was on a mission, and I nodded my assent. So I played escort on my bike, and we headed straight back to Tucson.

Patch, whose old lady had a habit of getting pregnant—thus the sidecar—had made excellent use of his cell phone in the park’s main Visitors Center parking lot, where Ellie had parked my truck. His woman made an emergency call to her baby doctor and then got me word of which hospital to take Ellie and Peter to immediately upon arrival in town, so we were able to get the baby checked out first.

Throughout the whole rest of the day and night, at the hospital while they were putting the baby through a slew of tests—an echocardiogram, chem levels, other stuff I didn’t know what—Ellie would not look at me. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. I tried to hold her hand once, but she pulled away from that, too.

I knew she was stressed out. I knew her emotions must have been overwhelming. I knew she was exhausted and probably dehydrated. I tried not to take it personally. But it was feeling personal. And it did not sit well.

I stayed pretty silent. I got her water, juice, milk, food, magazines, a pillow and a blanket—anything and everything I could think of to make her more comfortable.

And I got nothing back from her. She accepted the gifts with nods. She really wasn’t even speaking to me.

It was starting to freak me out, but I figured the hospital where her baby was being tested and poked and prodded was neither the time nor the place to have a come-to discussion.

I had no idea what she thought I had done wrong, so along with the rejection, I was starting to get pissed off. We were supposed to be pulling together by this point. What the hell was wrong with her?

Finally, after long hours, Peter was pronounced well enough to go home. He had been severely dehydrated, but nothing else came up to show that he was otherwise any the worse for wear from the whole damned ordeal.

I escorted them back home, she showered and changed into her pajamas, and I paced. When she emerged from the bathroom, she aimed directly for her bedroom, but I was standing in the arch that led from the living room to the bedroom hallway, my arms braced above me on the frame, waiting to get her attention.

She knew it. She knew she owed me an explanation of whatever it was that was going on in her head. So she stopped and looked at me. Her face looked like death.

I took a step toward her, wanting nothing more than to hold her in my arms, to smell her clean scent, to comfort her with my body, to breathe her in.

But she took a step back and wouldn’t look at me.

She didn’t speak for a minute. We both waited it out.

“I almost lost him. I almost lost him, Jack, because I wasn’t focused on him. I can’t allow that to happen again. I have one job, and I failed. So—I’m sorry, Jack, but I really need to—I can’t allow myself to be distracted. Not by…I…”

I knew what was coming, now. I got it.

“Me.”

She looked up at me sadly. “Yeah.”

We stared into each other’s eyes for several seconds, and I felt like the wind had been punched out of my gut. But I understood.

“I need to do this, Jack. I need to learn how to do this on my own, with and for Peter. I can’t allow… I just need to know that I can be enough, and do this on my own. I know we need your help, that there’s still a long time to go to get the trust. But…” Again, she didn’t want to put it all in words.

“I get it, Ellie. You want me out of the picture.”

She didn’t respond, still didn’t look at me. But she closed her eyes, her head turned away.

Fuck. I hadn’t seen this coming.

I was gutted, but needed to get us through this, figure it out. I didn’t want her to see how her decision affected me. Here I’d been thinking…well. Obviously, I was wrong. I spun out our next moves, to make this easier for both of us.

“So, here’s how we play this. I’ll move into an apartment ’til the six months are up, you and Peter stay in the house. It’s easier for you here. When you get the money, we can get you settled wherever you want. I don’t want to make this hard for you. But I want you to remember: I am and will always be a part of Peter’s life, and by extension, a part of yours. I’m not going away like that. You got me?”

She turned her back on me and moved to her bedroom door, nodded briefly, and shut me out.

Chapter 24

Ellie

It had been three weeks. Three long, miserable weeks.

As promised, Jack had moved out the very next day. I didn’t know where he was staying; I didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell me.

He came over every few days, wanting to spend time with Peter. He always called beforehand, to make sure we were home, and I think to give me warning. When he came, I left. I’d go grocery shopping, or to the library, or to a park—anywhere, so as not to be in his way.

He’d told me I didn’t need to clear out, but for my own sanity, I really did. I couldn’t be around him without regretting my decision, without showing him how much I craved his company, his presence, his body, his attention.

I knew this whole thing was on me, but in the long run, I also thought he would thank me for it. Our marriage was not real—it had never been real, it never could be real, right? We had married out of financial necessity, for Peter. That was the whole point of the arrangement, to make it easier for us to end it once the money came in.

He didn’t love me, and I didn’t love him.

Except…I was beginning to think that I did love him. That I had grown to love him. And that killed me, because I was also the one who had pushed him away.

Jack was so good to us. He was amazing with Peter. Throughout and after the kidnapping and Chiricahua crisis, he was nothing but generous and supportive, totally engaged, and totally dedicated to fixing it. And I knew, deep in my heart, that he absolutely did love my son—that was easy to see.

In the short time that we had lived all together, Jack had learned how to do the daily stuff—how to warm up a bottle, how to burp Peter and change his diapers, how to hold him, engage his interest, and shower him with love, just like any other daddy—just as I imagined Keith would have done.

Jack was daddy material, through and through—which probably would have shocked the heck out of him, had anyone suggested such a thing, even just a month or two ago.

Beyond that, Jack was good to me. Even after I told him I needed him to go.

He continued to check on me regularly, to see if I needed anything. He brought gifts to the house for me almost every time he came over. Baby stuff, or bath products for me, or take-out so I didn’t have to cook. He never came over empty-handed.

He kept on fixing up the house and cleaning up spaces that had previously been piled with man-junk. The guy was constantly making improvements so that I would be more comfortable.

I had thought, three weeks ago, that I would do much better without Jack in my life, distracting me. But the truth was becoming clear now: not having Jack more in my life was distracting me, and I didn’t like it at all.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him, missing him. I missed his voice, his laugh, his phenomenal scent. I missed his body, his size, his strength. I missed his eyes, his arms, his presence. I just missed him.

I’d gone and fallen in love with the guy. Brilliant. Just what I had promised myself I would not do.

Was there any chance…any hope…that—just maybe—Jack might have it in him to come to love me, too?

Could we make this work?

I didn’t know if he’d even want me, now that I had pushed him away so hard. But I was starting to think that I owed it to myself, and to Peter, to lay it on the line.

I had no idea what Jack thought or felt about me at this point. Sure, he’d been super generous and nice, doing all these great things for me in the past three weeks—scratch that. Jack had been doing great things for me since the very first day I met him.

He came off like a big tough badass biker dude—and yeah, he was that, for sure. But he was also supremely generous, and big-hearted, and caring, in his own way. He had some macho issues, but they paled in comparison with his goodness.

And I could call him out on them, and even as he would defend his Neanderthal ways, he would also see my point and laugh at both of us in our opposite corners of the ring.

Yeah. I needed to talk to him again. I needed to be real. I needed to allow myself—and us—to see if what we had could possibly be something more than I had ever allowed myself to hope for before.

My biggest fear now was that he really didn’t want me. But I had to ask. I had to know.

# # #

I had dropped Peter off at Holly and Bull’s house—she had quickly established herself as Grandma Holly, despite the lack of blood relation, and she awesomely offered to take Peter when I had called a few hours ago, even before I had the chance to ask her to do just that.

I had given myself a spa-shower, going the whole nine yards with the shaving, salt and oil rub, eyebrow fixing, blow-dry, et cetera. Then I dressed in my favorite sexy sundress and shoes. I was on a mission, and I wanted to be looking and smelling and feeling my very best.

I was freaking nervous.

I knew he was at work—I had actually called to verify this with Trini and asked her not to let on that I had called to check. She looked me up and down when I entered the shop, then smirked at me hard and gave me a double thumbs-up. Super subtle.

But I wasn’t here to be subtle. I figured, go all-in or go home. I was going all-in.

So, in response to Trini, I gave her a small smile, and headed straight back to Jack’s office. His door was mostly shut, but I could hear him talking. I just kept up my pace. Nothing was going to side-track me now.

I knocked lightly on the door as I opened it wider, and found him on the phone. He’d been facing his computer monitor and talking numbers, but as soon as I entered his eyes were on me, and he said, “Listen, I’m gonna have to call you back.” And he hung up the phone.

I closed the door behind my back and, with both hands behind me, leaned against the door, letting his eyes take their fill.

“Something on your mind?” he asked, his voice coming out a little lower than normal, a little growly.

“Yeah.” Wow. My voice had dropped, too.

I was so aware of him—how beautiful he was to me, his eyes, his scent, his very presence—that for the moment, I couldn’t think beyond that.

He gave me several seconds, but when I said nothing more, he prompted, “What is it, Ellie?”

Whereas when I had first entered, his eyes had been warm, surprised, welcoming. But now, he looked guarded, colder. Crap, I was screwing this up already.

“I made a huge mistake.”

“Yeah, you made that clear several weeks ago.” He was turning his attention back to the stuff on his desk.

“No, you don’t understand…Jack, I really fucked up. I didn’t know…I… Would you just please stop that and look at me?” I was starting to panic. I needed his eyes. I needed him to be open to hearing what I had to say.

He gave it to me immediately. “You want my attention? You got it for two minutes. Then, I got work to do.”

Okay, that was a little harsh, but fair.

“The thing is, Jack…I was so scared. I was so scared, and the whole thing went back to the fact that I was thinking about you when Brian came in and took Peter.

And I thought that I couldn’t do that, couldn’t allow for anybody else to distract me…”

“Yeah, Ellie, you told me all that. I got it. No need to tell me again.”

“No, you’re not…Just listen, please, for a minute. The thing is, I still can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about how I miss you. About your eyes. About your mouth. About your body. About your wit. About how you laugh at me in the mornings. About how you love Petey. About how you care for everyone in your circle, like it’s a mission. About how you fit inside of me. About…”

Somewhere in the middle of all that rambling, Jack had stood up and zipped over to me at the door. Before I could go on, he had his mouth on mine, his hands at my ass, lifting me up so I could wrap my legs around him with better-alignment for easier kissing. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on, and allowed our tongues and lips to reacquaint in sexy slides, rubs, and nips. I could not get enough, and the feeling was apparently mutual. Thank God.

“I need you now,” he growled against me, and rocked his pelvis up into my own. We had too many clothes on.

“Yes, now.” It was about all I could manage.

“Fuuck.” Holding me up by my ass, he swung us around and cleared off the greater part of his desk with a single swipe of an arm. Once I had my butt planted on it, I turned my attention to undoing his belt buckle and fly. He got my dress off me, unsnapped my bra and sent it flying, and had my panties down to my knees already as I worked his pants and boxers down his thighs. He took over from there, and I pulled his tee shirt up and off while he kicked off the jeans. We were both naked in record time.

“Look at you,” he whispered. Damn, but he made me feel beautiful.

“I’d rather you touch me,” I invited.

He smirked at me, but easily gave in to my request, lightly passing two fingers through the soft, wet folds of my pussy and encircling my clit. Oh, lord.

“You just want me for my body.”

He was joking, but there was something vulnerable in the statement, too. I was struggling not to get lost in sensation, but this was important. I took hold of his wrist, and held it off of me for a moment so I could gather the right words.

“Your body is divine. And of course, I love it. But that is not what this is about, Jack. You need to know that. I want you in my life. Not just as Peter’s daddy-uncle. Not just as a brother-in-law type of thing. Not just as a sometimes-lover. I want you as mine.”

Whoa. Okay, I said it. It was a vulnerable admission for me, too—I had no idea if he was even open to the concept of belonging to one woman, of having a true partner. We’d been play-acting through the wedding, but we’d never really discussed our thoughts about marriage and partnership. He might laugh in my face.

“You mean…what are you saying, Ellie? Spell it out for me.”

“I mean that I’m freaking in love with you, Jack! I want to be your real wife! I want to be your old lady for real. Do you get it now? Jeez!”

He had started laughing somewhere in the middle of that little speech, and when I realized it, I burned with humiliation.

Immediately, I was up and hunting for my panties, blushing like mad. All I wanted to do was get out of there alive. If I killed him in the process—well, accidents happened, right?

“Hold on—wait—stop it, Ellie. Shhht—Woman, stop.” He suddenly went all deep-voiced dom. Typical.

And he had me in a lock-hold from behind, with both my arms behind me held in one of his arms, his other arm wrapped around my front. I was almost in tears, but I was angry and confused and—

“Baby, are you telling me you wanna be in this with me, and you want me to be in this with you, for real, forever? For good? Did I hear you right?”

I said I was all-in, right? Walk the walk.

“Yeah, that’s what I was saying, before you started laughing at me. Now, I’m not so sure.”

He laughed again, and bit my neck for a second, giving me a tight squeeze at the same time.

“I thought you were marching in here to tell me you were leaving, that you had found somewhere else to go, and that you were getting as far away from me as you could, for good.”

“Why would you think that?” I struggled to turn around, to see his face. “No, seriously, why would you think that, Jack? I would never do that. Don’t you know that?”

“I don’t know. I just thought—it doesn’t matter. You’re serious?”

He was searching my eyes. And there I saw that vulnerability again. I melted.

“Yeah, Jack. I’m serious.”

“Thank fucking Christ.”

“Jack!” I swatted his arm.

“Jeez—sorry—baby, you gotta know, I’m all-in with you. With you, with Peter, with this marriage, everything. I’m all-in.”

My chest suddenly felt all bright and bubbly, and I grinned from ear to ear, then did my best to kiss his lights out. Once again he lifted me up, this time carrying me back to the door, and said, “I’m not letting go of you this time.”

“Please don’t.”

“Okay with you if we do this without protection? I’m clean. You on the pill or something?”

“Yeah, I am, actually. I’m clean, too. I don’t want us to use anything.”

He growl-grunted, hefted me up a bit more, and dove in for more kissing. One of his hands snuck under me to spread my juices around, playing with me, making sure I was ready for him.

Oh, I was ready. I was more than ready. And as soon as he realized it, he said, “Baby, I can’t wait…”

I reached down for him and guided his hard length into me, and we watched together as our bodies bonded. It was sexy and beautiful and right.

Our eyes met again, and we smiled and breathed in each other’s air, and began to move together against the door.

Our movements got stronger, louder, more desperate and fierce, as we met and retracted, pumping and grinding, over and over again.

He gave me his fingers again when he saw I was getting close, and I cried out as the world of sensation exploded around me.

He pumped into me a few more times, and muffled his sounds against my neck as he came.

And after, we melted into one another against the door for several long moments, our breaths heaving and our bodies slick with sweat.

When we finally came back to the world, we started laughing into each other’s eyes.

I really didn’t care if anyone out there was listening; this was all about me and Jack. We were finally a real thing. Our merging bodies were just the physical element of a much grander reality. It was fucking perfect—literally and figuratively.

“God, people are going to hate us.”

“Why?” He looked at me quizzically.

“Because we already use the same freaking phrases. ‘All-in’ was my motivational motto today, getting ready to come see you.”

“Yeah? All-in? It’s ’cause you picked it up from me, baby. Must have.”

“Your ego is ginormous.”

“I got something else that’s ginormous for you, baby, and it likes to play the all-in game, too.”

“Oh, that’s horrible, Jack. Shut up and kiss me.”

And he did.

Epilogue

Jack

“Daaaaddy!”

“Dude, I’m right here. Volume check, yeah?”

“Um, yeah. Did you see? Did you see me? Wanna see me again?”

“Yeah, buddy, I saw you. Let’s see if you can do it even better this time. Go big, or go home!”

“Jack!”

I turned to my wife, who had narrowed her eyes at me and was shaking her head.

“Hey, he’s into it. Let’s see what he’s got.” I tipped my beer up and winked at her.

“Okay, are you watching? Mommy? Daddy! Here I go!” And the kid took a short running start off the shorter diving board and cannonballed into the water, causing a huge splash that circled around past the edges of the pool. Good thing I had dug it deep.

When Pete emerged, he was wearing a huge smile that ate up at least half his face.

“That was excellent. Nine point six.”

“Momma?”

“Almost perfect. Nine point seven.”

“What wasn’t perfect?”

“I think your eyelashes are too long. They caught the water at a bad angle,” said Ellie with a wink.

He laughed and leaped on top of her, causing her to tip somewhat precariously in her deck chair.

I got up immediately and lifted him off her by his still-small ribcage, hefting him over my head. He was four already, but I could still take him. When he let me. Usually, he was running circles around us. Total ball of energy, this one.

We were lucky. Peter had had the last of his surgeries over a year earlier, and was now considered by all to be a completely healthy kid, with nothing more to worry about on the horizon. So his high energy levels were nothing but joy to us, even if we did have to rein him in sometimes.

“Whoa, dude, easy. No jumping on Mommy, remember? We gotta be a little careful now.”

“Oops, sorry, Momma. Sorry, baby. I won’t do it again.”

Ellie grinned up at us and patted her baby bump. “It’s okay, honey. No harm, no foul.”

I put on my mean voice. “El, don’t let him off the hook so easy. This kid needs to learn some respect.” I dropped him into an airplane hold, under the arms at my side. He immediately assumed the proper Superman flight pose, and I asked him, “What are you gonna do, next time you feel like jumping on your mother?”

“I’m gonna jump on you instead!”

“That’s acceptable.” Then I gave him the one-two-three swings before releasing him into a thrown-dive. Kid took to it like a fish.

Ellie got up, stretched her arms over her head, and said, “I’m going in, dig up something for dinner. You want anything special?”

I walked over to her, swept her up in my arms, and planted a long one on her luscious lips. She gave me some tongue play, too. “I got my special. Whatever you want.”

She smiled at me, looking at my mouth, and whispered, “Later. I’ll have what I want later.”

“Yeah, you will.”

I was the luckiest bastard alive. And I knew it.

THE END

***

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UNCHAINED: Metal Monsters MC

By Zoey Parker

I made her my hostage, my f*ck toy… and now, my wife.

She crossed a line and almost got me killed.

There’s a price to pay for that.

And she’ll be paying it for a long, long time.

I’ll make her see – from the handprint on her a** to the ring on her finger – that all of her belongs to me now.

Billie thought she was tough.

A bartender in a rough part of town – she’d seen it all, right?

Wrong.

She’s never seen nothin’ like me before.

I’m all muscle and ink.

I take what I want and f*ck it ‘til I’m finished.

And my eyes just landed on her.

The stupid broad almost got me and my crew arrested or, worse, killed.

Who shows up to a bank robbery like it’s a spectator event?

She needs to be taught a lesson.

And I need to tie up this loose end.

Against the wishes of my crew, I take her with me.

They thought I should have killed her.

But I have a better punishment in mind.

I’m going to make Billie taste me.

Submit to me.

Cry for release at the top of her lungs.

As we run through the desert, just steps ahead of the cops on our tail, I make her plead for mercy.

She’ll take me as her master.

Her husband.

And, soon, the father of her child.

Prologue

Billie

Billie Rosewood let out a sharp gasp as Carter's powerful hands slid behind her thighs, lifting her up and setting her down on top of the motel's small desk. Her naked ass still stung from where he'd slapped it moments before, and the hard wood beneath them made them ache.

Carter's hands moved restlessly from Billie's legs to her back to her neck, finally sliding around to her chest so his rough fingertips could explore her erect nipples. His lips quested over her mouth, the side of her neck, and her shoulder. Her heart buzzed inside her chest at his touch.

She'd wanted him from the moment she saw him.

But in her wildest dreams, Billie could never have imagined it like this—in a no-name motel at the edge of the desert, with over a million dollars in cash and a massive .357 revolver on the bed, and lawmen at their heels.

She was an outlaw now, notorious, a woman on the run. The excitement of it was making her wetter than she'd ever been before, almost as much as Carter's touch was. His brown hair gave off a dizzying scent of sunshine, sweat, and road dust as he kissed her breasts.

“This is what you've needed from the start,” Carter murmured.

“Oh God, yes,” Billie breathed. “Please don't stop.”

Billie reached down between her legs, her fingers finding Carter's belt buckle and undoing it. She unzipped his fly and his cock emerged, pressing against her inner thigh eagerly. She stroked it slowly, relishing its warm throb against her palms as it grew even harder.

“And you'll do anything for me, won't you?” His voice was husky with desire.

“Anything,” she promised. “Anything at all.”

Carter's mouth found hers again as he reached into his pocket. Billie heard the faint crinkle of the condom wrapper as he opened it, rolling the latex sheath down his shaft quickly. A moment later, Carter wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his body as he penetrated her deeply.

“Take it,” he hissed. “Take every fucking inch.”

A low moan escaped Billie's lips. Every thrust seemed to set off fireworks in the core of her being, hissing and sparking and exploding outward to the tips of her fingers and toes. She wrapped her arms and legs around Carter as tightly as she could while their bodies rocked back and forth together, their rhythm growing faster, harder, more insistent with each new push.

“Your pussy feels so good,” Carter whispered.

“It's yours, baby,” Billie said softly, digging her fingernails into his back. “It's all yours.”

Her tailbone slammed against the desktop over and over, sending bolts of pain up her spine. She knew that she'd be nursing a bad bruise later, but for now, each impact just made the whole experience seem more real and drove her closer to the edge.

The top of Carter's cock rubbed against Billie's clit hard with every movement, and she felt herself growing light-headed as a pressure built inside of her, just waiting to be released. It spilled out in a warm gush a few minutes later, her orgasm soaking them both as she dug her fingernails into Carter's back.

He inhaled sharply and came, biting the side of her neck hard enough to leave a mark she'd wear proudly afterward. She cried out, her sounds of passion mingling with his in the cramped motel room.

Their bodies remained pressed together for a long time, heaving and quivering. Somewhere out in the desert, a coyote started to howl.

Billie smiled.

She knew exactly how that coyote felt.

Chapter 1

Billie

Three Days Earlier

Billie stood behind the bar at The Boot Hill Saloon and brushed her auburn hair back seductively, considering the proposition Clem Folsom had just made.

Beneath the red bandana tied around her neck, there was a thin sheen of perspiration on her breasts. The first four buttons of her denim shirt were undone, and she saw Clem's pale blue eyes flickering from her face to her cleavage and back again. The shirt was tied up at the waist, revealing her flat tummy. Her jean shorts were so tiny that the flaps of her flat white pockets were fully visible, resting against her outer thighs.

Clem gulped nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he waited for her answer.

“Okay,” Billie agreed, taking a sip from her beer and wiping her mouth. “How much money have you got?”

Clem grinned nervously, reaching into the pocket of his grass-stained overalls. He pulled out a handful of crumpled bills and counted them out on the bar. “Fifty bucks.”

“Not bad,” Billie commented, nodding. “For how long?”

Clem's smile widened, revealing two rows of small, crooked teeth. “Heck, gal, since it's you? I'd go a whole forty-five seconds.”

Next to him, Big Pete Crabtree let out a wheezing guffaw and slapped his knee with a huge, hairy hand. “Boy, are you kiddin'? This is Billie Rosewood we got here!” Pete pulled out a roll of bills and peeled off five twenties. “I got a hunnert dollars fer the full sixty seconds.”

“Aw, yer a couple a' cheap-ass pikers, both of ya,” Red Hawley sneered, tossing some money on the bar. “I got a hundred an' fifty bucks says we're gonna have ninety seconds of pure goddamn poetry in motion tonight. What do you say, darlin'?” He winked at Billie lasciviously.

“All right, boys, all right,” Billie said, sipping her beer again. “No need to fight. There's plenty of action to go around. Only what if I say anything less than the full two minutes is a waste of this lady's time, huh?”

The men gaped at her, astonished.

“No way,” Pete said, shaking his big head vigorously. Dust and hayseeds drifted down from his shaggy gray hair, settling on the surface of the bar like snow flurries.

“Nuh-uh,” Clem agreed. “Ain't no way a little gal like you is gonna be able to hang on for the full two minutes. Not with somethin' that big an' powerful between yer legs.”

“Ninety seconds,” Red chimed in. “Anythin' more than that an' yer gonna be on the ground lookin' up, feelin' like you just got punched in the pussy by a freight train.”

Billie shrugged mildly. “Well, maybe you're right, and maybe you're wrong. But there's one surefire way to find out, fellas. And in the immortal words of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, 'Money talks and bullshit walks.' So are you in, or not?”

The three men exchanged skeptical looks. Finally, Clem said, “Okay, you're on. Show us what you got.”

Billie nodded and finished her beer in three long gulps. “I'll need some tunes to get in the mood,” she said, pushing a button on the bar's stereo. The song switched over to Merle Haggard lamenting about how there ain't no good in an evil-hearted woman.

Satisfied, Billie walked around the bar to the mechanical bull in the center of the room.

“Hey, Carlito,” she called out to the bar's owner.

Carlito was in his early fifties, a short, stocky Mexican with a shaved head and a white handlebar mustache. He looked up from the table he was wiping down, his eyebrows raised.

“I'm gonna ride Bessie,” Billie announced, stepping up to the bull and straddling it. She wrapped her fingers around the fake horns, ready to hold on for dear life. “Make sure you turn 'er all the way up, y'hear? I want to make sure these boys get their money's worth.”

Carlito shook his head and chuckled as he positioned himself next to the control switch for the bull. Billie's entire body tensed up as she prepared for the machine to start moving. She'd never actually managed to stay on for more than one minute and ten seconds, but she felt lucky tonight.

The other bar patrons formed a loose circle around the platform with the bull. All the faces were familiar, especially the men's. They came to the saloon to drink almost every night, swapping the same old stories and dirty jokes. Sometimes it seemed to Billie like she'd either dated, fucked, or rejected every man in Cactus Hollow at one time or another.

Sometimes she fantasized about leaving, but where was there to go? The town was close to where the borders of Texas, Oklahoma, and New Mexico converged. It seemed like deserts and wheat fields stretched out to infinity in every direction.

Carlito counted down loudly. “Tres...dos...uno!”

He hit the button and the huge machine heaved between Billie's legs. She gripped the horns as hard as she could, her palms already slick with sweat. The hairy bull head rose and fell sharply, its glass eyes reflecting the neon beer signs over the bar.

As the crowd around her cheered and hollered, Billie stole a glance at the clock on the wall.

Only twenty-two seconds. Shit.

She squeezed her legs together with all of her strength as the mechanical beast bucked and lurched. Her head bounced in every direction with such force that she felt like her neck might snap at any moment. With each sudden movement, her crotch slammed against the unforgiving saddle. The sound of the patrons whooping blended into a single constant roar, like the sound of a seashell against her ear.

Another peek at the clock.

Fifty-seven seconds.

Okay. Not bad.

The bull reared up suddenly and Billie was almost thrown backward. Her wrists ached from how tightly she was clinging to the horns, and the bones in her arms felt like tuning forks. She felt herself starting to slip off to the side and tried to hold on tighter, but her fingers were filled with pins and needles and she worried that soon they'd go completely numb. She kept one leg hooked over the back of the machine and threw herself to the other side to counterbalance, straightening out.

The clock again.

One minute and eighteen seconds.

Come on, goddamn it, she thought. Forty more seconds. You can do this. Tonight's the night.

The monstrous machine shifted to one side unexpectedly, and Billie's right hand came loose from the horn it was holding. She flailed, trying to find her grip again but clutching at air instead. The other hand lost its grip a half-second later and she felt her ass rise off of the saddle. She let out a sharp yell and plunged both hands forward, desperately grabbing for the short patches of fake fur on the bull's neck. Her inner thighs connected with the saddle again, but the muscles in them were burning viciously.

She felt her sweaty hands lose their purchase on the brown fur and closed her eyes, preparing to be thrown off...

“Two minutes!” Clem screamed. “Well, I'll be butched. She did it!”

The bull came to an abrupt stop and Billie came down hard on top of it, gasping and panting. Her shirt was soaked with sweat and the space between her legs felt like it had been hit by a wrecking ball.

She rolled over and let herself fall to the floor on her back, sore, exhausted, three hundred bucks richer and laughing triumphantly as the men at the bar drank a toast to her.

Chapter 2

Carter

Carter's motorcycle roared like a hungry demon as he rode down Route 385, crossing the border from Oklahoma into Texas with Hazmat and Oiler right behind him. Their saddlebags were heavy with the bundles of cash they'd stolen from the First Farmer's Bank and Trust in Boise City, Oklahoma, just a couple of hours before, and Carter's blood was still up from the heist, his skin crawling with excitement like it was covered with busy ants.

The bank's elderly security guard hadn't put up a fight. There hadn't been any exploding dye packs stashed in the money bags.

And best of all, there were no state police vehicles on their heels.

The Metal Monsters MC—of which Carter was currently president, with Oiler and Hazmat as his vice president and sergeant-at-arms, respectively—had gotten away clean with nineteen thousand dollars, and no one had been hurt in the process.

Carter felt the cool night air on his face as the dusty corn fields on either side of the highway slowly gave way to dry mesas and desert blooms. He saw a bullet-pocked sign by the side of the road that read, “Welcome to Cactus Hollow – Spiky Name, Flowery People! Enjoy Your Stay!”

His face broke into a wide grin and he let out a triumphant yell, popping a wheelie. He heard the other two laugh wildly, revving their engines and racing him to the sign ahead.

Until about a month ago, Carter had been the club secretary for the Hobgoblins, a biker gang based in Pensacola. They'd gotten into an ugly turf war with the Naggia family, a Miami crime syndicate determined to stomp out all of their competition in Florida's drug trade. The Hobgoblins were proud and tough, but their club of roughly three dozen brawlers and gearheads was easily outmanned and outgunned by the Naggias, who also controlled most of the state's cops and judges.

Within two weeks of fighting with the Naggias, almost every member of the Hobgoblins was either dead or in prison—and Carter, Hazmat, and Oiler were laying low in Mobile, burning their old patches and wondering what to do next as the little money they had quickly run out.

Carter had always dreamed of starting his own MC, and the other two quickly agreed to join him. Oiler came up with the name “Metal Monsters,” and he even designed their new patch, a menacing robot face he remembered from an old sci-fi flick he'd loved as a kid.

But establishing a club with any balls behind it would also take money, and Hazmat came up with the idea to go on a bank robbing spree across the south. The plan was to travel in a wide and unpredictable arc, hitting local banks in remote towns across five states: Mississippi, Louisiana, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and finally Texas. The takes would be relatively small compared to more prestigious banks in bigger cities, but the security would be minimal, making them far more low-risk.

Then they'd find a safe place to hole up in southern Texas, waiting for the heat to die down before they relocated and set up their new club. The law wouldn't have any proof that they were the ones who committed the crimes—the masks they wore would make sure of that—but word of their robberies would ring out among outlaws, securing their reputations and attracting new prospects to their MC.

They'd carried out the first two heists without much trouble, since surprise was still on their side. They took twenty-five thousand from the bank in Mississippi, and another ten thousand from the one in Louisiana.

But by the time they attempted their third score, the news of their previous robberies had reached the Arkansas State Police, who were on high alert along with a handful of feds from the FBI's field office in Little Rock. Carter and the boys managed to grab a little over seven thousand dollars before a shoot-out with the cops forced them to flee, sirens wailing behind them for miles until they were able to evade the squad cars via the side roads.

“Okay, time to pack it in,” Oiler said as they made camp in the Ouachita Forest that night, cooking pork and beans over a small fire. He was a small, wiry man in his late twenties, with prematurely-receding blonde hair and beady brown eyes that always seemed to be blinking. His voice was generally soft and hesitant, like a shy child who was called to the blackboard to explain a difficult math problem.

“Knockin' over three banks without gettin' shot or arrested ain't a bad tally overall,” he continued, stirring the pot. “An' forty-two thou might not be as much as we wanted, but it's still not a bad haul for sixteen days. If we don't wanna end up behind bars, I say we call it good an' find a place to hole up.”

Hazmat glared at him over the fire. His scarred and weathered face resembled a pirate's, and his copper-colored hair was shaved into a short mohawk. His pale green eyes perpetually seemed to flicker between confusion and anger.

“First of all, when it comes to makin' a rep for ourselves, three banks ain't five,” Hazmat counted off on his stubby, freckled fingers. “Second, if we wanna get the Monsters properly set up, we're gonna need a lot more than forty-two thou to establish a steady stream of guns an' product to run. An' third, if you're pissin' your pants about bein' behind bars, maybe you oughtta work at a fuckin' Starbucks 'stead of tryin' to be a biker.”

“Hey, don't be mean, okay?” Oiler said plaintively. “You've seen me in enough scrapes to know I'm not yellow, so don't act like we're on a playground. Havin' balls and havin' brains ain't no either/or scenario, and I happen to think riskin' serious prison time after what we just escaped in Pensacola is pretty stupid. Maybe if you'd done a six-year stretch like I have, you'd understand why I ain't so eager to go back.”

Hazmat waved him off impatiently. “Shit, there you go again. You're always bringin' that up. Where I come from, guys brag about the time they spend outside the joint, not in it.”

“I ain't braggin' about the time I did,” Oiler said, spooning some beans onto his plate. “I reckon it's the most horrible and degrading thing a man can go through, and I don't ever plan on seein' those bars around me again no matter what. Besides, one of my biggest reasons for goin' along with this whole cockeyed plan is I got a wife an' kid over in Jacksonville who count on the money I send 'em. But I ain't gonna be able to send 'em much if I'm makin' two cents an hour stampin' license plates in the pen.”

“No one's stampin' nothin',” Hazmat insisted. “Carter's got inside info on the bank in Texas, so we can't lose. Won't even have to case the joint or nothin'. Ain't that right, Carter?”

“Not only that,” Carter said, “but if we do it right, it'll triple our cash.”

Also, Carter had made a promise to someone important that he'd rip off this particular bank, though he chose to keep that to himself.

“Fine,” Oiler sighed, “so let's pretend this last bank down in Texas is some kind of miracle job like Carter says it is, where somehow there's no cops or security guards anywhere in the state and we'll all fly away on the backs of unicorns with big bottomless bags of money. Why don't we just make that our next and last score, then? We've been lucky so far. Why risk some bank in Oklahoma on the way?”

“Because it's there,” Carter said decisively. “And because luck's not good for anything unless you push it.”

So they had, and oh, the First Farmer's Bank and Trust had been the sweetest little honey of a job Carter had ever pulled in his life. No chase, no shots fired, no hassle of any kind.

And by this time tomorrow, their spree would be at an end and they'd all be richer than they'd ever been before.

Carter saw a roadhouse called The Boot Hill Saloon and motioned for the others to follow him to it. He needed something to wash the taste of adrenaline from his tongue and calm the jitters on his skin before turning in for the night.

They pulled into the parking lot, cut their engines, and slung their saddlebags over their shoulders before heading inside.

Chapter 3

Billie

The bell over the door to the saloon jangled and Billie turned to look as Sheriff Greg Panzer strolled in, just as he always did at ten o'clock whenever Billie was working. He'd made a habit of this ever since she'd gotten the job, and the pattern they followed was always the same.

“Pour you a drink, Panzie?” Billie asked as he sat down at the bar. “On the house, what with all the serving and protecting you do.”

Sure enough, the sheriff gave his usual response. “No thanks, Billie. I'm on duty.”

Billie smiled, shaking her head. “Aw, how come you ain't no fun anymore, Panzie? Back when we were in tenth grade, you used to be able to drink a whole case of beer in one night.”

“Yeah, I had one hell of a metabolism back then,” he chuckled, patting the gentle slope of his belly ruefully. “Didn't have a badge, either.”

“So now that you're the sheriff, you figure having one beer with your old high school sweetheart would cripple you in your never-ending battle with the sinister forces threatening Cactus Hollow? Is that it, Panzie?” she countered.

He rolled his eyes and tried to sound impatient, but pink spots of embarrassment were slowly spreading across his cheeks and forehead. He'd always hated it when she called him Panzie, but it had never stopped her.

“I didn't say nothing about no sinister forces or whatever,” he replied, trying to make his voice sound deeper and more authoritative without much success. “I just take my job seriously, is all. And we was never sweethearts, not that I can recall. You were always with other boys.”

“Too shy to ask me out between boyfriends, huh?” she asked teasingly. She knew he'd never have been able to work up the courage to ask her out back then, any more than he could now. He still got red-faced and tongue-tied whenever he was in the same room with her.

True to form, Panzer's face was turning a deep shade of crimson, and he began to stammer. “The, uh, the way I remember it, there were always some pretty heavy areas of, um...overlap between your relationships,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Is that a nice way of pointing out I dated around a lot?” Billie prodded, batting her eyelashes at him innocently. “Can you blame me? When you're born and raised in a dump like Cactus Hollow, it's an ongoing battle against boredom. We're not all cut out for the thrill of law enforcement.”

Panzer laughed, relaxing a little. “I think the last law I actually had to enforce around here was when I told Old Man Fordham he had to cut back the branches on his spruce 'cause it was growing over onto Doc Samuels' property, and that was about two months ago. Other than that, it's mostly just crossword puzzles and re-election plans.” A shadow passed over his face briefly. “There's a chance that could change pretty soon, though.”

Billie raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Sounds exciting. What's up?”

Panzer shrugged his wide shoulders. “Probably nothing. But about an hour ago, an APB came over the fax down at the office. Some bikers knocked over a bank up in Boise City earlier today. Apparently, it's their fourth robbery in the past month, and all of them have been banks in little nowhere towns like this one. The state and federal boys seem to think they might be headed this way based on the places they've hit so far, so they want local cops like me to keep an eye out. Not that they've ever got proper descriptions of the guys,” he snorted derisively. “They wore masks, just like anyone would.”

“Jesus,” Billie said, popping open a bottle of beer and taking a sip. “You really think they'll show up here?”

“Nah,” said Panzer, yanking a handkerchief from his pocket and mopping his ruddy face with it. “There's about a million towns like this one around here, so the odds seem pretty damn astronomical. I've never had to draw my service weapon in the six years I've been a peace officer here, and I doubt I ever will.” He rapped his knuckles on the bar's wooden surface.

“You're probably right,” Billie agreed. “Besides, we get so many bikers in off the road around here, how could you tell it was them?”

“Yeah, the whole thing seems pretty silly.”

“Still, though,” Billie sighed wistfully, “if they came through here, at least a little shoot-'em-up would liven things up around here. You could finally have a chance to act like a real lawman, instead of just rescuing kittens from trees.”

Panzer stared down at the bar. “Is that what it would take to get you to like me, Billie?” he asked, almost too quietly to hear.

Billie was taken aback by the question, and for a moment, she considered pretending she hadn't heard him. Instead, she said, “I like you just fine, Panzie. You know that.”

“You know what I mean,” he retorted, shaking his head. He still couldn't make eye contact with her.

Billie didn't know how to answer him. She knew he'd had a crush on her ever since the second grade—hell, everyone in town knew that. But even though she had a soft spot for the big, lumbering, well-meaning lunkhead, she'd never been attracted to him that way, and she'd always been grateful that his shyness had prevented him from ever bringing it up directly.

But now that he had, would she be forced to tell him outright that she wasn't interested? He was still a good friend, and she didn't want to hurt him.

Before she could think of a proper response, the door jangled again and she silently thanked God for the interruption. She turned and saw three men in black leather MC vests. Each of them carried a saddlebag.

The bar got plenty of visitors like these most nights, but Billie couldn't take her eyes off the man in the middle of the group. He was tall and lanky, with long brown hair and piercing eyes. His movements had a casual grace to them, almost like a dancer's body. The muscles in his arms were lean and taut, and Billie could tell that beneath his vest and t-shirt, his chest and abs were firm and chiseled.

He was the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen.

“Three beers,” the biker in the middle called out to her, leading the others to a small table in the corner.

“Coming up,” Billie answered, watching his tight ass as he walked.

Panzer followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing with jealousy. His entire body grew tense, and the patches of color reappeared high on his cheeks.

“Well, well, well,” Panzer growled suspiciously. “What have we here? Three bikers, just like the APB said.”

Billie laughed. “What, you think that's them?”

“Could be,” Panzer said, nodding. “I'd better go over and ask them a few questions, make sure they're not here for any trouble.”

Billie couldn't believe her ears. One minute Panzer was about to confess his feelings for her, and the next minute he was willing to prove it by shaking down some random bikers just because he thought it would impress her?

“So what, you're going to go over there and demand to search their saddlebags for masks and big bags of money?” she asked incredulously. “Just because they happen to be riding motorcycles?”

“If it comes to that,” Panzer replied, sliding his bulk off the bar stool and touching the handle of his gun. “That's what they gave me this for.” He was trying to sound tough, but there was an unmistakable tremble in his voice.

She didn't like the idea of Panzer causing a scene in her bar and embarrassing himself. Besides, the more she looked at the handsome one, the more she hated the thought of seeing him get shaken down for no good reason when he probably hadn't even done anything wrong. The idea that the three robbers they'd just been talking about had suddenly decided to walk through the door seemed completely ridiculous to her.

Billie put her hand on Panzer's shoulder. “Look, why don't you save yourself some trouble, okay? I recognize those guys. They were in here a few hours ago, so there's no way they were up in Boise City knocking over a bank. They're just some thirsty road hogs passing through town.”

Panzer looked at them again, but his hand withdrew from his gun. “You're sure it was them?”

“Positive,” Billie assured him. “So relax, okay?”

Panzer looked sheepish, but somewhat relieved, too. “Okay. Guess all this talk of bank robbers has me wound a bit tight. Anyway, my shift's done, so I guess I'll head off now.”

Billie felt bad for lying to him, even though she knew it was probably for the best. “Now that you're off, are you sure I can't pour you that beer?” she asked.

“Nah, you've got other patrons to look after,” Panzer said, loping toward the door. “See you tomorrow night, Billie.”

“See you then,” she answered, putting three beers on a tray with small napkins under them.

As she did, she wondered where Panzer would go next. Would he patrol the town aimlessly in his squad car even though he was off-duty, half-heartedly looking for crimes that weren't there so he could prove himself to her as a tough lawman?

Or would he go home to look through old yearbook photos of them together, re-reading the innocent notes they wrote to each other in the blank pages and pretending there was something more behind them?

She shook her head to clear these thoughts, put on her most flirtatious smile, and headed over to the table in the corner.

Chapter 4

Carter

As the Metal Monsters swaggered into The Boot Hill Saloon, Carter immediately noticed the beautiful barmaid in her skimpy denim top and cutoff jeans. Years of playing it cool with the opposite sex had given him the discipline to check her out in his peripheral vision without looking at her directly and betraying his interest—but even so, he found himself struggling not to stare openly at her petite frame, cascading reddish-brown hair, and prominently displayed cleavage.

The three bikers had been riding so hard for the past few months—fighting the Naggias, running from them, riding from state to state while trying to avoid the law—that Carter suddenly realized how long it had been since he'd felt a woman's touch.

So long, in fact, that it took an extra few seconds for his brain to register the fact that she was talking to the local sheriff.

He felt an electric tingle of dread tip-toe up his spine. Even before their current spree of robberies, he'd always gotten this feeling when he was this close to a cop, as though he'd accidentally stepped into a cage with a hungry tiger. In the animal kingdom, cops were the natural predators of bikers, even the ones who weren't outlaws. Any sudden movements, any outward indication of fear, and the creature wouldn't hesitate to tear its prey to shreds.

His fight-or-flight instincts kicked into high gear, screaming for him to turn right back around and walk out of the bar—calmly, without any sense of urgency, as though he'd left his wallet with his bike or something like that—so that he and the others could hop on their bikes and make tracks for the next town. But no matter how natural they tried to make it look, Carter knew it could still make the sheriff suspicious enough to go after them, especially if he'd heard about the previous robberies they’d committed.

Nope. The only way to safely navigate this situation was to sit down, have some drinks, and act like they had nothing in the world to be nervous about.

Carter tossed what he hoped was an offhand glance toward the bar. “Three beers,” he said.

“Coming up,” the barmaid answered.

As Carter led Hazmat and Oiler to a table in the corner, he could feel eyes on his back. He wondered whether they belonged to the barmaid, the sheriff, or both.

When Hazmat and Oiler sat down across from Carter, he could see his own tension reflected in their eyes as they tried to look casual.

“He's lookin' at us,” Oiler murmured, trying to keep his lips from moving.

“Of course he's lookin' at us, stupid,” Hazmat said in a low voice through clenched teeth. “We're fuckin' bikers. And he's gonna keep lookin' at us if we keep whisperin' and doin' half-assed ventriloquist acts like we got somethin' to hide.”

“So what should we talk about?” Oiler asked quietly.

“Nothing,” Carter said. “We're not a fucking book club for housewives. We're just three dudes who came in for a drink. We don't need to talk about anything. We just need to sit here and act normal for a few minutes, so chill the fuck out, both of you.”

The seconds ticked by like hours as the three men sat, trying not to make eye contact with anything in particular. Carter felt like an idiot just drumming his fingers and staring off into space, and with each passing moment, he could feel the sheriff's eyes drilling holes in his back. The tension kept building inside him like a boiler with its pressure valve increasing past the danger levels, threatening to explode him from the inside out the longer they stayed.

Finally, the sheriff lumbered over to the door, shooting a dirty look at them before leaving.

“There, you see?” Carter said, smiling. “No trouble at all. Now we can relax, enjoy our beers, and go over the plan.”

“Are you nuts?” Oiler asked, his voice going up an octave. “After what just happened, you still want to go through with this?”

“Nothing happened, asshole,” Hazmat sneered. “Didn't you see? He doesn't suspect a thing. He was just here to get a look at the chick behind the bar before he goes back to his trailer park and beats off to her. He barely even noticed us.”

“He noticed,” Oiler insisted, shaking his head. “He was staring. You saw that, didn't you?” He turned to Carter imploringly. “Look, we've had a great run, okay? Four states, four banks, that's impressive enough to build a rep on. The money's not perfect, but we can make things work with what we've got. Maybe that last job went so smoothly as a warning for us to just be grateful for what we got away with instead of pushing it too far and fucking it all up.”

Before Carter could respond, the barmaid sidled up to their table, placing their beers down in front of them. Now that the cop was gone, Carter allowed himself a more deliberate look at the woman, taking in her vivid green eyes and the dash of freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. She was sexy as hell, but there was also something impish and mischievous about her expression and mannerisms that he found alluring.

“Here you go, fellas,” she said. “Sorry you got the greasy eye from the sheriff. It's nothing personal. He was just having a John Wayne moment, trying to impress me.”

“Did it work?” Carter asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nah,” she replied, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “It takes a lot more than that to get my motor running. Anyway, that's nine bucks. You guys want to pay now, or start a tab?”

“We'll pay now...” Oiler began before Carter raised a hand, cutting him off.

“Actually, we're going to go ahead and start a tab,” Carter said, sizing her up. “Now that we've been here a few minutes, the place is starting to grow on me.”

“Suit yourself,” she answered, shrugging. “When you need another round, just give me a yell. My name's Billie.”

“Kind of a boy's name, ain't it?” Hazmat grunted.

Billie rolled her eyes. “It's spelled with an '-ie' to make it more feminine, genius.”

“Oh yeah?” he snickered, sipping his beer. “Like Johnnie or Timothie or Harvie?”

“Well, if you're such a good judge of names, how about telling me yours?” she countered.

Hazmat opened his mouth reflexively, but Carter spoke up quickly. “Whatever he tells you is going to be a lie,” he said evenly. “His real name is Yorick. That's what it is.” Carter shot a steely glance at Hazmat. “Isn't that right...Yorick?”

Oiler stifled a giggle, putting his hand to his face and pretending it was a sneeze.

The muscles in Hazmat's jaw twitched angrily as he glared back at Carter. Finally, he said, “Yeah. Yorick. Sure. That's me.”

Billie threw her head back and laughed loudly. “I stand corrected, then! Clearly, you're an expert on shitty names, so you're free to discuss them with impunity.” She took a few steps toward the bar, then repeated the name and cackled again.

Hazmat's huge fists clenched on the table top. “Yorick? What the fuck, man? Why Yorick?”

Carter leaned in, his smile frozen on his face as his voice lowered dangerously. “Because if you ever come that close to blurting out your real name again when we're about to pull a job, you moronic shitkicker, I'll make you into a skull in the fucking dirt. Understand?”

“Okay, jeez,” Hazmat said sheepishly, backing down. “I wasn't gonna give 'er my real name anyway.”

“Yeah, I'll bet, Yorick,” Oiler giggled.

Hazmat stared down Oiler coldly. “Carter can get away with that shit. He's president. But if you keep titterin' at me like a spastic little girl, I'm gonna rearrange you so you'll have to unzip your fly to eat.”

Oiler nodded, snorting and trying to suppress his laughter.

I'm the president of a three-person MC, Carter thought. One of them's me, and the other two are these knuckleheads. God help me.

Hazmat pulled the napkin out from under his beer and removed a pen from his pocket, handing them to Carter. “So, you wanna sketch this job out for us, since you're supposed to have all this 'inside info?'”

“Hey, now wait a minute,” Oiler interjected. “Since when did we decide we're still gonna go through with this, after that thing with the sheriff? I still say we quit while we're ahead, instead of being dumb an' greedy.”

“An' I still say you might as well be wearin' a diaper instead've a cut, if you're gonna keep cryin' an' pissin' yourself every five seconds,” Hazmat spat.

“Oiler, you heard what that hot little barmaid just told us,” Carter said evenly. “That sheriff doesn't suspect us of a damn thing. He was just trying to make his balls look big. The job tomorrow's no more dangerous now than it was when we walked in fifteen minutes ago. It's foolproof, and the money we pull out of it's going to make what we've taken so far look like pennies.”

“Yeah, I know a lot 'bout foolproof plans,” Oiler sulked. “I heard about 'em every day from the fools who were in the slammer with me.”

“Look, just hear me out,” Carter insisted, starting to sketch out a basic diagram on the napkin. Hazmat and Oiler leaned in closer to see what he was drawing. “This bank we're hitting tomorrow has never been robbed once since it opened in 1904. Now, I happen to know for a fact that the bank's manager, Coop Scanlon, has been embezzling money from the place for years...”

“How do you know that?” Oiler asked.

“Never mind that now,” Carter said. “The point is, to cover up what he's been stealing, Coop has cut corners on their security measures. The cameras are just there for decoration...they aren't hooked up to anything. Their only security guard is a retired, half-blind cop whose arthritis is so bad he can barely draw his gun anymore. Oh, and they mostly hire high school kids as tellers, so they can pay them minimum wage and work the shit out of them.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Hazmat grumbled impatiently. “But if they're such half-assed idiots, then how come you keep sayin' this bank's gonna be so loaded?”

“That's the best part,” Carter said, grinning. “See, all the farmers and yokels keep their money in this bank, and most of them tend to make deposits just about every week. They're small amounts individually, but after a while they start to pile up. And Coop's such a penny-pinching asshole that he only pays for the bank's armored car service to come pick up the surplus cash once every month, unlike the weekly pick-ups a lot of banks have. This bank's pick-ups are always scheduled for the same day and time—the third Wednesday at two o'clock.”

“And tomorrow's the third Wednesday of this month,” Oiler said.

“Exactly,” Carter replied. “We show up at noon, hit the place hard when it's got the most cash, and blow out of here with over a hundred thou. Plus what we got from the previous scores, of course.”

“Sounds like a solid plan,” Hazmat said, nodding.

“I dunno, guys,” Oiler said doubtfully.

Carter sighed. “Oiler, I know doing time was hard for you. I know you almost lost your family over that shit, and you don't want to risk that again. But the Hobgoblins are toast, man. Gone forever. And without a new club and a real chance to start earning again, you're not going to be able to send your wife anything to take care of herself or the kid, and then you'll lose them for sure. If we do this thing right, we can get situated somewhere and you can send for them to come join you soon so you can be a real family again. What do you say?”

Oiler sighed, then nodded. “Okay, I'm in. But no matter what happens, I ain't goin' to prison again. Let's get that clear.”

“Fair enough,” Carter agreed, finishing his beer and getting up from his seat. “Now if you'll excuse me...”

“Where the fuck do you think you're goin'?” Hazmat asked.

“I'm going over to the bar for another drink,” Carter said. “And while I'm there, I'm going to see if I can arrange to spend the night in a nice bed with that girl's legs wrapped around me, instead of out under the stars with you two dickheads.”

“I thought you were all about makin' sure we didn't do anythin' to get known or draw attention to ourselves,” Hazmat protested.

“Hey, do as I say, not as I do, Yorick,” Carter answered with a wink, striding over to the bar.

Billie looked up and smiled when she saw him approach. “You ready for another beer?”

“I'll take a beer, sure,” Carter said, leaning against the bar and giving her his most devil-may-care grin. “I also came over to find out what it actually does take to get your motor running.”

Billie's smile widened, and her eyes danced with amusement. “You're pretty direct, huh?”

“Life's too short for anything else,” Carter conceded.

“Well, I took a look out the window while you were conferring with your colleagues over there,” Billie said, “and from the look of those bikes outside, you already know a thing or two about motors and what makes them run. Why bother asking?”

Carter shrugged. “Different makes, different models, different instruction manuals.”

“Uh-huh,” Billie said, nodding. “Okay. Since you seem to be so brave tonight, I'll tell you exactly what you can do.” She pointed. “See that mechanical bull over there?”

Carter followed her gaze. Sure enough, there was a humped, ugly-looking contraption with long horns and fake fur on the other side of the bar.

“Pretty hard to miss,” he commented. “Never been on one myself.”

“Oh yeah?” she said. “I've been on that one plenty of times, and earlier tonight, I lasted a whole two minutes. You stay on for even half that, and I'll spend the rest of the night on your lap when I'm not serving drinks. Deal?”

Before Carter could answer, Oiler appeared at his side. “That doesn't sound like such a good idea, man,” he said. “We've, uh, got a pretty big day ahead of us tomorrow. The last thing we need is you mashing your ass and your nuts against a metal sawhorse tonight so you can't, y'know...ride tomorrow. Or anything else.”

Billie looked at Carter, raising her eyebrows.

Carter clenched his teeth. He wanted to tell Oiler to go fuck himself so he could hop on the bull and win Billie's attention for the night, but he knew Oiler was right. They'd come too far, and now that he'd talked Oiler into the final score, he couldn't risk blowing the whole thing over some random barmaid.

Even if she was fucking gorgeous, and even if he'd been without sex for so long that his dick got hard when the wind blew.

“My friend's absolutely right,” Carter admitted with great difficulty. “I'll have to raincheck you on that the next time I'm in town.”

“I sure hope you will,” Billie said, handing him another beer. “Too bad it's not tonight, though. Either you'd have spent the rest of the evening in my ever-lovin' arms, or you'd have been splattered against the wall. Whichever one it was, at least it would've been entertaining.”

Carter favored her with another smile and sauntered back to the table, silently cursing both Oiler and the aching erection in his jeans that was making it difficult for him to walk.

“Look on the bright side,” Oiler snickered. “Maybe tonight we can point out shootin' stars an' constellations to each other.”

“Blow me,” Carter retorted.

Chapter 5

Billie

After the bikers and the other patrons finished their drinks and left, Carlito closed the saloon up for the night, locking the door and putting up the “Closed” sign. As Carlito rinsed and wiped the last few glasses, Billie put the chairs up on the tables.

She kept thinking about the biker who'd flirted with her, and wondered what his name was. She'd been tempted to invite him back to her place that night, but some stubborn streak inside of her had insisted that she couldn't since he'd declined her challenge. Now she was thinking about the look in his eyes when he'd smiled at her and regretting that choice, especially when she considered the empty apartment that was waiting for her.

Carlito went to the small office at the back of the bar and grabbed his coat. “You can finish up on your own, right?” he asked her.

“Sure,” she said. “Get home safe. And don't forget, tomorrow's my day off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving at her dismissively as he left. “Have fun.”

Billie went to the small television behind the bar and turned it on, flipping to the classic movie channel. The reception on the higher channels was fuzzy and the sound hissed, but they always played old Westerns after midnight, and she loved having them on in the background as she cleaned the bar up after hours—stories of daring robbers and brave lawmen shooting each other up. She envied their adventures, the way the stars rode the trails and tamed the wild frontiers while the background characters just stayed in the same small towns and watched.

She knew she was just like those background characters, but she wished she could be like one of the stars someday and have an adventure of her own.

As Dean Martin socked John Wayne in the jaw on the tiny screen while a horse whinnied in the background, Billie picked up the broom and started to sweep the dust, grit, and peanut shells into a pile at the center of the floor. When she extended the broom under the table where the bikers had been drinking and swept out the dirt, a soggy, crumpled cocktail napkin drifted out with it. She almost kept sweeping it toward the middle of the floor with the rest of the detritus, until she noticed several marks on it in blue ink.

Maybe it's got one of their phone numbers on it, she mused, frowning down at the napkin. Maybe the handsome biker wrote it down for me when they left, but it fell under the table somehow before I could see it. Maybe there's a chance I might not need to spend tonight alone after all. The chances are slim—one of them was probably just doodling on it aimlessly while they were talking—but still, I've got nothing to lose by picking it up and taking a look, right?

Billie bent down and snatched the napkin. She opened it up and brushed the dirt away. The blue ink was smudged and blurry from moisture that had soaked through it, but she could still faintly make out a rectangular shape. It was marked with X's and O's with arrows that reminded her of diagrams of football plays.

No names or phone numbers. They'd probably just been talking about some game they'd watched on TV recently. Shit.

She started to crumple the napkin up, then stopped and looked at it again. There were other marks at the edges of the rectangle, and she realized that they looked like they could be entrances and exits.

So it's not a drawing of a football field, then, she thought. A building? The O's all appear to be inside it already, and the three X's appear to be positioned so that two of them are entering while the third one stays outside.

She thought about the bank robbers Panzie had mentioned and remembered the way the biker had told her the other one's name was Yorick (which was obviously fake) before he could answer for himself.

And why hadn't the handsome biker told her his name when he was flirting with her, anyway?

A small shudder of excitement rippled through Billie's body. What if they really had been the robbers, like Panzie thought? The rectangle they'd drawn was vague, but it could easily be a map of the McMurtry Bank & Loan downtown. The O's positioned at regular intervals could be the tellers, and the final O off to the side could be Rusty, the security guard. The X's could indicate a plan for two of the bikers to enter and carry out the robbery while the third one stayed outside as lookout.

Billie heard gunshots and glanced at the TV. On the screen, a pair of masked robbers were leveling their six-shooters at a timid-looking bank teller and ordering him to reach for the sky.

She laughed uneasily, tossing the napkin onto the floor. Clearly, she'd been watching so many of these stupid movies that she was starting to see outlaws everywhere. Bikers of all shapes and sizes came into the bar almost every day—in groups of two, five, ten, and yes, sometimes even three.

And the crude drawing didn't have to be a bank, did it? Her mind had probably framed it that way thanks to the power of suggestion, but it could be anything at all, really.

Besides, nothing exciting had ever happened in Cactus Hollow—at least not in her lifetime. How could she honestly bring herself to believe that this would change now?

She finished sweeping and grabbed the dustpan, carefully lifting the pile of dirt and tossing it into the trash before washing her hands. Then she got her coat from the back room, shrugged it on, and locked the place up again before heading to her car. As she drove home, she kept picturing the sexy biker bursting into the bank downtown tomorrow with a gun in his hand and a rakish smile on his face, commanding everyone to put their hands in the air.

She even imagined herself as his willing accomplice, keeping her own gun trained on Kathy and Mary Jo and the other plain girls she'd grown up with who made fun of her in school and went on to work as assistant managers at the bank. She'd relish the looks of shock and terror on their faces as they tossed heavy stacks of bills into a sack, taunting them about their boring husbands and boring kids and boring lives.

Then she and the biker would fire a couple of shots at the ceiling just to spook the tellers even more before they ran out to his bike. He’d straddle it and rev the engine as she got on behind him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight while they blew out of town together. They'd hole up in some ratty little motel together, laughing and making love and planning their next big score.

Silly thoughts, she knew. But they kept her company as she warmed up a dinner of leftovers and watched another Western, one where Lee Marvin menaced Jimmy Stewart's stagecoach.

The fantasies were even more comforting later when she was in bed with her hand between her legs, wishing she knew that biker's name so she could moan it out loud in her empty apartment.

Chapter 6

Panzer

Panzer sat at his desk in the sheriff's office after midnight, staring at the fax he'd received from the state police. It included several photos from the security cameras of the previous banks, and he carefully studied the heights, weights, and postures of the three robbers in their black ski masks.

The more he looked at them, the more he was sure that they looked like the three bikers from the bar.

Maybe Billie had seen three different bikers earlier that day and confused them with the ones who came in later. Or maybe she'd told him she'd seen them when she actually hadn't, as some kind of joke at his expense—she made a lot of those jokes, and he didn't understand most of them.

Either way, he knew he shouldn't have just walked away. He should have made sure.

In one of the photos, one of the robbers had a narrow strip of skin exposed between his mask and the collar of his vest, revealing a tattoo of an eagle. And hadn't one of the bikers in the bar—the mean-looking one with red hair—had some kind of winged creature inked on the side of his neck? Panzer wasn't sure, but he cursed himself anyway. He should have walked up to the redhead and demanded to examine the tattoo...

...and then it would have turned out to be a skull with wings or something like that instead of an eagle, and Billie would have laughed at him, and everyone else in the bar would have laughed at him too.

Just like they always did.

Damn it, why did he always feel like no matter what decision he made, it was the wrong one?

When he and Billie had been in high school together, he'd taken her to the movies almost every weekend so they could watch Westerns, thinking it'd strengthen their friendship to the point where it could become something more. Instead, it just gave her a taste for wild, reckless outlaw types.

He'd behaved like a perfect gentleman toward her and treated her with nothing but respect, only to watch her fall in lust with a never-ending string of foul-mouthed, dirty-minded boys who snuck cigarettes and swallows of whiskey between classes. He started drinking beer to impress her, and she mocked him relentlessly for trying to seem like a “bad boy” when he so clearly wasn't and never would be.

And when he got old enough, he became a deputy and later ran for sheriff, thinking that the gun and badge would remind her of the heroes from their beloved Westerns and finally earn her respect. But the first time she saw him in uniform, she howled with laughter, saying he looked like Dudley Do-Right from the old Bullwinkle cartoons.

And year after year, it was “Panzie” this and “Panzie” that, no matter how many times he told her he hated that nickname. As though his feelings simply didn't matter to her.

He wished he could just forget about Billie and move on, but even if he could—and he knew damn well that he couldn't—it wasn't like there were other women in town who would be willing to date him. He was well aware of how everyone made fun of him behind his back, even though he tried not to let it show. They all thought he was an awkward, potbellied, slow-witted lump of a man who'd only become a lawman because he knew nothing dangerous would ever happen here.

But those robbers in the photos...it was them. The bikers. He was ninety percent sure of it.

Still, ninety percent was not a hundred.

He briefly thought about calling Coop Scanlon at the bank tomorrow morning, just to put him on alert in case he was right. But then what? The robbery wouldn't happen after all, and Coop and the rest of the people in town would have another hearty chuckle at his expense.

Panzie, the useless donut-muncher. Panzie, the boy who cried “wolf.” Panzie, who was actually dumb enough to believe he could stop a real crime.

Panzie, Panzie, Panzie.

No, he decided. He wouldn't call Coop or tell anyone about his suspicions. Not even Broyles, his deputy—who had an IQ of about 80, and was the only person in town who actually seemed to look up to him. He'd keep it to himself, but he'd keep his cruiser parked close to the bank tomorrow anyway, just out of sight. Just in case.

If Panzer was wrong, no one would ever have to know.

But if he was right...

Well, maybe he could arrest some real criminals for once in his career, and earn the respect of Billie and the rest of Cactus Hollow.

Panzer put down the faxed pages, put his feet up, leaned back in his office chair, and dozed off. He dreamed of exciting shoot-outs, of headlines and medals and Billie's voice in his ear as she made love to him and called him her hero.

Chapter 7

Billie

Billie woke up in her cluttered studio apartment and rolled over in bed, looking at the clock on her nightstand. It was 10:52 a.m., which meant the bank had been open for almost two hours.

I wonder if those three guys have robbed the place yet, she thought. This idea made her laugh as she got up and walked to the bathroom, preparing to start her day.

But as she scrubbed herself in the shower, the thought started to become less and less silly the more she considered it. By the time she had toweled off and started brushing her teeth, she had almost convinced herself that the bikers really could be the robbers Panzie had told her about.

What if they actually had held the place up already?

Billie spat out her toothpaste, rinsed, and went over to switch on the TV. She flipped around the channels to see if any of the regular programming had been interrupted by news of a heist at McMurtry Bank & Loan. Instead, all she saw was the usual array of daytime talk shows, infomercials, and grainy reruns of programs from the '60s. At one point, she heard the high-pitched whine of the Emergency Broadcast System cut into “The Andy Griffith Show” and she got excited for a moment, but it turned out to be a tornado warning for southern Oklahoma.

She sighed and switched off the set, telling herself she should have known better than to get her hopes up about anything so thrilling or dangerous happening in Cactus Hollow.

Still, as she slipped into a pair of red panties and fastened her mismatched black bra, she couldn't shake a mild sense of anxiety. What if the robbery ended up happening after all, and she missed it? Why not take a drive downtown and look in on the bank, just to make sure? Worst-case scenario, there wouldn't be one and she'd feel like an idiot for thinking it might—at which point, she could buy a chili dog and a cup of ice cream down at Pembleton's Pop Shop and have a good laugh at herself.

Besides, it was her day off, and she certainly didn't have anything better to do.

Billie pulled on a pair of black jeans, a gray t-shirt, and a pair of old sneakers. Then she went downstairs, got in her little red coupe, and drove downtown. She parked in front of If The Shoe Fits, the town's only shoe store, which was right next to the bank. She couldn't hear any alarms or commotion coming from the building. She just saw one of the young part-time tellers finishing a cigarette out front during her break.

She checked the clock on her dashboard. 11:41.

So now what? How long would she sit here and wait for a bank robbery that would probably never happen?

The teller looked at her watch, took one final drag from the cigarette, flicked it away, and went back inside.

Ten minutes passed. Then another five.

Boredom started to set in, and Billie realized she should have brought a book. She decided that if nothing happened in the next sixty seconds, she'd stop watching the bank, grab some lunch, and pick up a bottle of whiskey before heading home. A bit of day-drinking and movie-watching sounded like a good way to spend her day off. If she couldn't watch cops and robbers in real life, at least she could usually find some on TV.

For the rest of her life, whenever Billie looked back on that moment, she knew that if she'd ended up just driving away and taking shots of liquor during commercial breaks, she'd have remained in Cactus Hollow and her day-to-day routine would have continued uneventfully just as it always had.

But she stayed just long enough to hear the roar of motorcycle engines approaching and hunkered down in the driver's seat, eager to watch the action.

In that moment, her life changed forever.

Chapter 8

Carter

Carter opened his eyes slowly, squinting against the harsh sunlight. He pulled himself into a sitting position, his back aching from the hard ground he'd been sleeping on. Once he and the other Metal Monsters left the saloon the previous night, they'd made camp next to a cornfield near the northern edge of town, bundling into their sleeping bags and staring up at the night sky until their eyelids became heavy and they started to snore.

As got up, he heard a frantic rustling sound and looked over at its source, rubbing his eyes. Oiler was pawing through their belongings with a frightened expression on his face as Hazmat watched him impatiently.

When Hazmat saw that Carter was awake, he bent down and cuffed Oiler upside the head, jerking a thumb at their president. “See? I told you not to make so much fuckin' noise, or you'd wake 'im up.”

Oiler scowled up at Hazmat. “Well, someone's gotta find the thing, since you were stupid enough to lose it!”

“I didn't lose it, I probably just threw it away,” Hazmat countered hotly. “I swear, I dunno what you're so bent out of shape about. It's not like anyone told me I was supposed to keep it. What, was I in the john or somethin' when we suddenly decided we had to hold onto every little thing? We never did that before.”

“Because we never had something like that before, you nimrod!” Oiler yelled.

“Easy, easy,” Carter said, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “What's all this about?”

“It ain't about nothin',” Hazmat grunted. “Oiler's just gettin' his tampon in a twist 'cause he can't find that dumb napkin from last night. You know, the one you drew the map on?”

Carter shrugged. “So what? I mean, I can draw another one in the dirt here if you need me to, but the plan's basically the same as the last few places, so...”

“It's evidence!” Oiler moaned. “Jesus, I wouldn't expect Hazmat to understand this, but you're supposed to be the smart one. It was a diagram of our whole plan for the robbery, and I was sure you or Haz would take it with us when we left the bar. Instead we left it God-knows-where for God-knows-who to find, and now we have to call the whole thing off or we'll end up in handcuffs for sure.”

“Whoa, no one's calling anything off,” Carter said. “Get a grip on yourself. It was just a wadded-up napkin with some X's and O's sketched out on it. We didn't even draw anything to show that it was supposed to be a bank, and you're acting like we all wrote our full names on it and signed it 'Your Bank-Robbing Pals' or something.”

“Besides, it probably got swept up with the rest of the trash last night,” Hazmat added.

“Yeah, unless someone picked it up, looked at it, and figured out what we were planning,” Oiler insisted.

“Do you go around picking used napkins up off the ground, Oiler?” Hazmat chortled. “You must end up touching a lot of dried come and boogers that way.”

“Oh, everything's a friggin' joke to you, isn't it?” Oiler exploded. “It's all a big laugh, right? Well, let's see you keep crackin' your funnies when we're in a federal pen surrounded by rapers and killers, an' no one there to watch our backs after lights-out. Not gonna be such a big comedian then, are you?”

“Jesus,” Hazmat said, rolling his eyes. “Everything's a goddamn soap opera with you. What a whining, mincing little bitch you are sometimes.”

“Oiler, there's no way anyone found that napkin,” said Carter. “And even if someone did, they wouldn't know what was on it. Now, I know you're nervous and I'm trying to respect that, but we've already decided that we're doing this. There may only be three people in this MC, but only one of them is the president, and that's me. And I say we go forward with it, period. You want in? Awesome. You don't? Fine, take your share from what we've already gotten and best of luck to you. But this thing is happening today at noon, and that's all there is to it.”

Oiler squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose as he considered his options. Finally, he sighed, opening his eyes again.

“Okay, fine. I'm still in. But before we go through with it, you have to promise me that we'll at least have a quick look around the bank to make sure that sheriff isn't there waiting for us. Deal?”

“Deal,” Carter agreed. He was willing to say whatever it took to shut Oiler up and make sure they'd do this. Unbeknownst to Hazmat and Oiler, Carter had still made a promise to someone to rob this particular bank—and it was one of the few promises he'd ever made in his life that he intended to keep, no matter what.

So they hopped on their bikes and rode toward the center of town, their ski masks pushed up under their helmets. Since it was midday on a Wednesday, the majority of the people in town were at work, and the streets were mostly empty. Bikers rode through border shitholes like this one fairly regularly, so the sound of their engines didn't even attract much attention.

As they got close to the block that the bank was on, Carter reached up and pulled his mask down over his face, motioning for the others to do likewise.

Every time he and the other two Monsters descended on their targeted banks like the wrath of the devil, Carter couldn't help but hear “The Ride of the Valkyries” crashing triumphantly in his ears. This moment right before the onslaught was always his favorite part of being a biker. In this moment, they were barbarians, they were unstoppable, they were harbingers of armageddon, and anyone foolish enough to stand in their way would be swiftly cut down.

The three bikes did a quick loop around the bank, making sure there weren't any sheriff's department vehicles on the streets surrounding the block. There were plenty of empty parked cars, but none of them seemed to belong to law enforcement.

“Looks like we're all clear,” Carter said as they pulled up in front of the bank. His heart started to thump in his chest as he dismounted from his bike. Just a few more minutes, and their robbery spree would be completed successfully.

“What about the side streets?” Oiler asked.

“Are you fuckin' retarded?” Hazmat snapped at him. “We've already got our masks on an' you wanna go putzin' around the side streets lookin' for hidden cops? We're clear, let's just do this an' get the hell outta here!”

Oiler looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he just nodded.

As Oiler took up his familiar position just outside the main entrance, Hazmat and Carter drew their handguns from the backs of their jeans and burst into the bank.

The tellers and customers all froze in the middle of their conversations and transactions, their faces freezing into expressions of terror that were almost comical. Carter only had a half-second to register this before Hazmat fired his gun in the air twice, the sound booming and echoing off the marble walls and floors.

Even though Hazmat could be a stubborn, quick-tempered bull of a man, Carter still had to admire how his shots carefully avoided any surfaces where they could ricochet and accidentally hurt or kill someone. He could be exasperating to work with, but he was still a pro.

“Everyone put your hands up now!” Carter demanded in the harsh, authoritative voice he'd practiced. He'd committed enough armed robberies as a member of the Hobgoblins to know that the trick was to immediately establish ownership of the room and everyone in it, taking it over before anyone could even internalize what was happening or think of resisting.

Sure enough, everyone's hands jerked upward instantly. Carter saw that the information he'd been given was correct—none of the tellers looked a day over twenty, and the security guard was so old he looked like he might have been Methuselah's babysitter once upon a time. His cloudy blue eyes bulged and his mouth worked soundlessly as spittle gathered at the corners of his thin, papery lips.

“That's good,” Carter said, stepping forward and snatching the guard's gun from his holster. As he did, he smelled something like ammonia and looked down at the crotch of the guard's uniform. A large urine stain was spreading across it.

“Everyone stay calm, and this will be over in less than ninety seconds,” Carter said. “We are here for the bank's money, not yours. The bank is insured, so no matter how much we take, I promise you folks aren't going to lose a dime from your accounts. Now we're all just going to relax and keep breathing while my associate over there collects the money from the tellers. We do not want to hurt anyone, but if any of you lower your arms or make any movements at all without our permission, we will assume you're reaching for a gun or an alarm and we will not hesitate to drop you lower than snake shit. So just be cool, and let's all get through this quickly and painlessly.”

It was a good speech, and Carter felt like more of a badass every time he got to deliver it. As Hazmat ordered each teller to empty their cash into the bag, Carter wondered if he'd ever have a chance to make that speech again. He doubted it. Robbing banks was exciting, but MCs tended to prosper more from drugs, guns, and small-time scores.

Once Hazmat had collected all of the money, he and Carter started for the door. “Thanks for your cooperation, guys,” Hazmat cackled. “Have fun tellin' this story to yer grandkids someday!”

As they emerged from the bank, Oiler eyed them nervously. “Cripes, what took you guys so long?” he demanded. “Let's get out of here fast!”

Suddenly, Carter heard a woman's voice gleefully call out, “Yeeeeeeee-haw, Yorick! I knew you boys were outlaws! I knew it, I knew it!”

Carter turned in the direction of the voice and saw Billie, the barmaid from the saloon, sitting in a small red car parked next to the bank. She was leaning out her driver's side window and pounding on her car door with a big grin on her face, as though she were cheering for a parade.

“What the fuck...?” Hazmat muttered under her breath.

“She's seen us,” Oiler hissed. “She's seen us, Carter, she knows what we look like, oh no, no, no, no...”

Before Carter's mind could fully process Billie's presence or what that meant, he heard a gunshot. For a bizarre moment, he thought it must have come from one of their own guns going off by accident—until he looked across the street and saw the sheriff running toward them, red-faced, with his pistol drawn.

“Stop in the name of the law!” the sheriff yelled, leveling his gun at them.

Carter, Hazmat, and Oiler exchanged glances, looking down at the guns in their own hands. Counting the weapon Carter had taken from the guard, their firearms outnumbered his four to one.

Stop in the name of the law? Carter thought. Jesus, what kind of movies has this douchebag been watching?

“What a stupid cop,” Carter mused, bewildered.

“What a dead cop!” Hazmat yowled, raising his gun and firing at the sheriff. “Eat lead, you khaki-wearing asshole!”

Despite Hazmat's words, Carter could see that he was still aiming for the pavement around the sheriff's shoes. Good. They didn't want to get caught, but they didn't want a cop kill on their hands if they could help it either. And in Carter's experience, when it came right down to it, most small-town lawmen preferred to play it safe instead of risking their lives.

Oiler lifted his own gun and squeezed the trigger, still mumbling litanies of “she's seen us” and “no, no, no” like a repentant Catholic reciting Hail Marys.

The sheriff's eyes widened as he realized his mistake. He ducked behind a nearby car, firing back at them.

Carter stole a glance at Billie again. She'd pulled herself back into the car and hunched down, rolling up the window quickly as though it could somehow stop a bullet.

Dread lurched in Carter's stomach as he realized Oiler was right. In fact, it looked like he'd been right about everything. Even if they still managed to escape—which was likely, since the sheriff seemed to have come alone for some idiotic reason—the feds would get their descriptions from Billie, who'd spent most of the previous night close enough to them to provide accurate descriptions to sketch artists.

Unless they didn't leave Billie here to talk to the cops.

“That sheriff's wasting all his ammo,” Carter said to Hazmat. “When he runs out and reloads, you and Oiler get on your bikes and ride. I'll be right behind you.”

“What the fuck are you talkin' about?” Hazmat hollered over the thunder of the guns.

“Trust me,” Carter insisted. “Just get the fuck out of here. I know what I'm doing.”

Sure enough, the sheriff's gunshots gave way to a series of clicks and he slid the magazine out of the pistol's handle, preparing to ram a fresh one in.

Hazmat and Oiler got on their bikes, revved them, and sped away.

The next few moments seemed to pass in slow motion. Carter grabbed his saddlebag from his bike and slung it over his shoulder, then ran toward the red car with Billie inside it. When he'd covered half the distance, the sheriff started firing at him again.

Instead of returning fire, Carter turned and aimed his gun at the gas tank of his own bike, pulling the trigger twice. The bullets ripped through the tank and the bike erupted into flames.

Good luck getting any fingerprints from that now, piggies, Carter thought smugly.

He turned back to the red car and ran for it as fast as he could, bullets zinging off the sidewalk around his feet. He reached the door on the passenger's side and used the butt of his gun to smash the window in.

“No!” the sheriff screamed, his voice rising to a shrill pitch. “You get away from her! Stay back!” He aimed his gun, but it was too late—if he fired, he might hit Billie, and based on his obvious poor aim, Carter was willing to bet that wasn't a risk the sheriff could afford to take.

Billie stared at Carter wide-eyed as he reached in to unlock the door and opened it. He slid into the passenger's seat, slamming the door behind him and pointing his gun at her.

“Drive,” Carter commanded. He expected her to cry, scream, or otherwise react with fear. But he was surprised to see a big smile on her face and a crazy gleam in her eye as she looked at him.

“You got it, babe,” she said, stepping on the gas pedal.

Her tires screeched as she pulled out of the parking space, zooming up the street in the direction Hazmat and Oiler had headed. Carter kept the gun trained on her as his eyes flickered over to the rearview mirror.

The sheriff was running after them on foot, huffing and puffing and firing his gun in the air. As the car accelerated sharply, he disappeared into the distance along with the rest of Cactus Hollow.

Chapter 9

Carter

The coupe zoomed down the highway like a rocket ship breaking free of Earth's gravity.

Carter kept his gun aimed at Billie, hoping it would banish the smile from her face and make her take him seriously. Instead, her grin seemed to get wider each time her eyes darted over to the weapon.

“You don't need to keep pointing that at me,” Billie laughed. “I've always wanted to be a getaway driver, so this whole thing is like a dream come true. Besides, if you shoot me, then what? The car will plow into a corn field or get wrapped around a tree, and then Panzie will catch up to you for sure.”

“First of all, lady, you're not a getaway driver, you're a hostage,” Carter pointed out. “And second, who the fuck is Panzie?”

“Aw, don't call me 'lady,'” Billie said, pouting. “I told you my name last night at the bar. Billie, remember?”

Despite his gun and his gruff talk, Carter could see that she still wasn't frightened, and he started to feel a little uneasy. Just who the hell was this girl, anyway? He'd seen how wild and outgoing she was the previous night when he’d flirted with her, but what kind of woman reacted to a carjacking like it was some kind of rollercoaster ride? Was she crazy or what?

“And Panzie's the name of that fat sheriff you and your friends just tried to ventilate,” Billie continued matter-of-factly, as though she was casually pointing out some local landmark. “You guys really should have cut him some slack back there, by the way. He can be kind of a dork sometimes, but he's an okay guy once you get to know him, and all those bullets you tossed in his direction probably made him shit his pants.” She giggled at this thought. “Besides, it's not like he'd have actually shot you. He can't aim for shit. I should know, I've been to the range with him enough times—”

“Okay, I'm going to need you to close your goddamn mouth now,” Carter said, interrupting her. “I'm trying to focus, and your yapping is distracting as fuck.”

Billie shrugged. “Suit yourself. I never would have thought bank robbers would be so cranky, though. Jeez.”

The car slowed down, and Carter realized that Billie was about to turn onto a side road. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “I didn't tell you to slow down or take a different road!”

“You didn't have to,” she said slowly, as though she was talking to a slow-witted child. “Even if Panzie can't catch up to us, he'll still have radioed ahead to the Highway Patrol by now so they can cut you off. If we take the side roads, we have a better chance of getting past them. Unless you want to get caught, in which case, hey, full speed ahead.”

Carter hated to concede that she had a point. “Fine, fine, just keep driving,” he said.

She took the side road. It was mostly unpaved, and tall corn stalks closed in on them from both sides. Carter had to admit to himself that this was a better route in terms of keeping them hidden.

“I know you said you don't want to hear from me...” Billie began.

“And yet you're still fucking talking for some reason,” Carter growled.

“...but this would be a lot easier if I knew where we were going,” she finished.

Carter let out a frustrated sigh. He'd been in a car with her for a handful of minutes, and it already felt like it had been all day. He knew he'd have to tell her their destination unless he was willing to throw her out of the car and take over the driving himself. If it were anyone else, he would trust that they'd be scared enough of his gun to comply.

But what if she didn't? She clearly wasn't intimidated by him, and if she resisted, was he really prepared to shoot her?

Billie raised an eyebrow at him playfully as though she could hear his thoughts. “Come on, you may as well tell me. Your voice sounds sexy when you try to make it sound all scary and gravelly, but you're clearly not some psycho murderer.”

“Oh? What makes you so sure?” Carter countered.

“Am I wrong?” she asked, smiling. “If I am and you're just planning to steal my car and leave me in a ditch with a bullet in my head, then I may as well not drive you any further, right?” The car started to slow down.

Carter clenched his teeth. He'd committed a lot of armed robberies in his life and he'd once killed a man in self-defense, but no, he wasn't inclined to shoot some unarmed woman no matter how infuriating she was.

“There's a motel south of here,” he said. “The Whippoorwill Motor Lodge. It's in a town called Blue Lace.”

“I know where that is,” she nodded. “If we mostly stick to the back roads, I should be able to get you there in about two hours.”

“Then we'd better find a place to stop and switch cars first,” Carter grunted. “They'll have state police helicopters in the air in thirty minutes once they realize we're not on the highway, and this little red girlie-mobile you've got is going to be easy to spot.”

“No problem,” Billie assured him. “There's an office park on Sidewinder Road up ahead. We should be able to find something in the parking lot there without anyone spotting us. Hey, can I choose the car we swap this out for?”

“No, you fucking can't,” Carter replied, looking at her incredulously. “What the hell is your deal, anyway? Are you from another planet or something? Don't you get how much danger you're in right now, or do you get carjacked at gunpoint every week?”

“Are you kidding? This is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me!” she gushed. “On the run from the cops with an armed outlaw? It's like something out of a movie.”

“This ain't no movie, lady,” Carter snapped.

“'Grr, this ain't no movie, lady,'” she retorted, trying to mimic his tone. “Wow. So cool. Do you practice that voice when you're alone? Does it usually scare people into doing what you say? I mean, you've already got the gun, so...oh, hey, here we go, here's Sidewinder.” She turned the car onto an even narrower dirt road.

A few minutes later, she pulled into a parking lot situated between a cluster of squat gray office buildings. Billie cut the engine, then pointed to a nondescript white sedan. It was a model from the mid-'80s, and based on the thick layers of dust and grime clinging to it, Carter assumed it hadn't been cleaned in the decades since then.

“I know you're not exactly eager for my input, but if I were you, I'd take that one,” Billie said.

“That shitheap?” Carter asked. “You've got to be kidding me. If the cops start chasing us and we need to pour on the speed, that thing looks like it'll cough up its engine and crap out on us.”

“That's just the outside,” she answered. “But it belongs to Henry Sunday, and he used to use it for drag racing a few years ago. Under the hood, it's a powerhouse. It'll easily outrun any cop car, guaranteed.”

“Bullshit,” Carter said. “You're fucking with me so I'll pick a shitty car and get caught.”

Billie rolled her eyes. “Fine, don't believe me. But if you take a quick peek at the engine, you'll see I'm right.”

“All right,” Carter retorted, “I'll check. But I swear, if I find out you're lying and trying to sabotage me...”

“You'll what?” she smirked. “Shoot me? Like I said, I don't believe you've got it in you. Fuck me? I was willing to jump into bed with you last night if you rode the bull, so that wouldn't be much of a punishment, now would it?”

“Maybe you wouldn't like it the way I do it,” Carter threatened. He had no real intention of committing such an assault against her or anyone, but goddamn it, there had to be something that would scare her into shutting up.

“Aw. Small dick?” she asked pleasantly, holding up her pinkie finger by way of demonstration.

“I do not have a small dick!” he roared.

“You sure?” she continued. “Because a lot of guys don't necessarily realize they've got a small one. They just assume it's average-sized. I mean, I've seen plenty, so if you're not sure, you can unzip and I'll tell you how it stacks up...”

“Just get the fuck out of the car and follow me,” Carter hissed. He could feel his face turning red under the ski mask and yanked it off angrily as he stepped out of the coupe and stalked over to the white sedan.

He knew he couldn't shoot Billie, but he didn't know how much longer he could endure her taunts and flippant attitude either. He desperately wanted to leave her by the side of the road, but then what? She still knew what he and the others looked like.

They approached the grimy white sedan. Carter kept his gun hanging low and behind his thigh so that casual observers wouldn't spot it, but as he looked around the parking lot, he realized he didn't need to be so careful—there weren't any other people out here, just rows of cars baking in the hot sun.

When they got to the car, Carter opened the hood and peered in. Sure enough, the inner workings were spotless, and they looked like they'd been lovingly customized so the unassuming machine would run like a race car.

He let out a low whistle of appreciation. This engine was a thing of beauty.

“Since you apparently know this guy so well, aren't you going to feel bad about stealing his car?” Carter asked.

“Nah, Henry's a jerk,” Billie said. “He used to yank on my pigtails when we were in third grade. Take your time, by the way,” she added. “It's not like the cops are after you or anything.”

Carter slammed the hood back down with a growl and walked over to the driver's side window. He took another look around to make sure the coast was clear, then smashed the window in with the butt of his gun and reached in to unlock the door.

“Get behind the wheel,” he brushing the bits of broken glass from the seat.

“Sure,” she replied, hopping into the driver's seat as Carter ran around to get in on the passenger's side. He examined the dashboard for a brief moment, then reached into his vest pocket and withdrew a pair of pliers.

“You always have those with you?” Billie asked.

“Pliers, duct tape, and superglue,” Carter said, leaning over and using the tool to pry the panel away from the ignition slot. “My mom always said those were the three things that held the world together, and she was right. Now let me concentrate.”

Billie opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.

Carter located the right wires, stripped their ends down to the copper, then twisted them together gingerly with his fingertips. The engine awoke with a smooth purr and Carter pumped his fist in the air triumphantly.

“Yes!” He turned to her. “Now drive. Get us down to Blue Lace as fast as you can.”

“And after that?” Billie asked, pulling the car out of its space and heading for the dirt road again.

“After that, we'll see,” Carter answered sourly. He wished he knew how things would shake out now that he'd taken her as a hostage, but he'd never needed to do anything like that before, and he had no idea what would happen next.

“No more questions or chatter,” Carter said. “Just drive, okay?”

“Can we turn on the radio?” she asked.

“That sounds dangerously like a question,” Carter said through gritted teeth. “What did I just say about that?”

“As long as we're not talking, I just figured...”

“Fine, fine,” he agreed, “listen to the radio if you want. Just keep your mouth shut, all right? Damn.”

Billie switched on the radio, and they kept driving as Steve Miller crooned about two young lovers who decided to cut loose.

At one point, they heard the thwup-thwup-thwup of a helicopter overhead, and when Carter risked a look up at it, he saw state police markings on its fuselage. For a tense moment, he expected to hear voices emanate from bullhorns above them, ordering them to pull over to the side of the road.

But after hovering over them briefly, the chopper veered off and whirred away, and Carter let out a sigh of relief.

“That was a close one,” Billie commented.

Carter didn't answer.

Chapter 10

Panzer

Panzer looked around helplessly as state police troopers and federal agents took over his usually empty office. Half of them were on their cell phones, and the other half were jabbering to each other in acronyms and law enforcement lingo that was so foreign to him they may as well have been speaking Chinese.

Special Agent Roland Harbaugh sat across from Panzer, staring at him threateningly as he licked his thumb and flipped backward through the pages of his small notepad. Harbaugh was a tall and cadaverous man in his early fifties, with iron-gray hair clipped into a flat-topped buzz cut and piercing black eyes surrounded by webs of crow's feet. He wore an expensive-looking suit, and his FBI credentials hung from a lanyard around his neck.

Deputy Broyles stood next to Panzer, trying to adopt a protective posture despite his sloped shoulders, scrawny arms, and sunken chest.

“Okay,” Harbaugh rumbled in his deep voice, looking down at his notes. “Let me just review your statement with you quickly, to make sure I've got everything right.” He cleared his throat. “Yesterday, you received a fax with a description of the three bikers who have robbed four banks in four different states over the past few weeks.”

“Uh, technically we didn't get no descriptions?” Broyles drawled. “On account of how them boys was wearin' masks?” Whenever Broyles spoke, the ends of his sentences always seemed to rise into questions, even if he wasn't asking anything. The sound of his voice usually made Panzer feel like punching him, but he took a deep breath and reminded himself that right now, Broyles was the only person in this room—in the town, maybe even in the whole damn world—who was on his side.

Harbaugh scowled at Broyles. “They were bikers, and there were three of them. That's a description.” He turned his attention to Panzer again. “Last night, you went to the local bar and saw three men who you suspected might be the robbers. Instead of acting on this in any way or even looking at them closely enough to be able to provide accurate descriptions later, you chose to ignore your suspicions and just wander off.”

“Aw, now see, the thing you gotta remember is, he didn't really suspect-suspect them fellas?” Broyles interjected again. “He just said that 'cause he was tryin' to impress Billie, seein' as how he's been kinda sweet on her since high school an' all...”

“Broyles, please don't help me,” Panzer murmured, putting his fingertips up to his temples and pressing on them. He felt a whopper of a headache coming on.

“To continue,” Harbaugh said, flipping to the next page in his notepad, “you later decided, in your infinite wisdom, that these men might be the robbers after all. But instead of alerting the FBI, the state police, or even the bank's manager, you felt that your best course of action was to keep it to yourself, park your cruiser almost a full block away from the bank, and wait to see if anything happened.”

“That's right, sir,” Panzer said. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow and his upper lip. He'd never felt this stupid before in his life, and given how many humiliations he'd endured over the years, that was saying something.

“No, it may be accurate, but it's certainly not 'right,'” Harbaugh corrected him. “Then, once you heard gunshots from the direction of the bank, you radioed this—gentleman—for backup.” Harbaugh shot a disdainful glance at Broyles.

“I'm his only deputy,” Broyles said proudly, hooking his thumbs into his belt.

Harbaugh kept going. “You waited for the robbers to leave the bank...”

“So they wouldn't try to take any of the tellers or customers as hostages, yes, sir.”

“...and exchanged gunfire with them,” Harbaugh growled, “during which time, you managed to empty two full clips of ammunition without hitting any of them.”

Panzer shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“Finally, two of the robbers fled on their motorcycles while the third one rode off with this Billie person who, for some reason, was parked directly in front of the bank watching the whole thing. And when he took off with her, you pursued them...” Harbaugh looked down at his notepad dourly. “...on foot. Now, have I got all that right, or are there any more examples of your profound stupidity that you'd like me to include for the official report?”

Panzer gulped. “No, sir, that's everything.”

“I just have one last question for you, Sheriff Panzer,” Harbaugh sneered. “Were you required to undergo any kind of law enforcement training to get that badge, or did you find it at the bottom of a cereal box?”

Panzer remained silent.

“I've been tracking these men for almost a month,” Harbaugh continued. “During that time, I've had to work with every podunk cop shop from here to Twiddle-Your-Ballsack Arkansas. But you are, without a doubt, the most useless yokel ever to put on a uniform. If it were up to me, you'd spend the rest of your life as a fucking meter maid, and you wouldn't be allowed to carry anything more dangerous than a water gun.”

A young agent in glasses walked up to Harbaugh, handing him a report. “Sir, Ms. Rosewood's car was just found in a parking lot at the edge of town.”

Panzer's heart stopped for a moment as he waited for the agent to say that Billie's body was found with it.

Instead, the agent said, “Another car from that lot was reported stolen. Take a look.”

Panzer stole a glance at the photo included with the report the agent handed to Harbaugh. He instantly recognized Henry Sunday's car and cursed inwardly. If they were in that souped-up monstrosity, no one would be able to catch up to them.

“They switched cars,” Harbaugh spat. “Damn it.”

He stood up and addressed the rest of the cops and agents in the room. “Gentlemen, it appears as though we're looking for a different car now. We'll circulate this report so you all know what make and model to focus on, at least until they switch again. At this time, it's important that we consider this woman Billie Rosewood a willing accomplice.”

“What?” Panzer exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. “What the hell are you talking about? She's not an accomplice, she's a victim of kidnapping!”

Harbaugh's lip curled in disgust. “True or false, Sheriff: This woman lied to you about seeing these men in her bar earlier.”

“She probably did,” Panzer stammered, “but...”

“And true or false: She was waiting outside the bank for them,” Harbaugh said. “Even called out to one of them, according to bystanders.”

“Well, yeah, but...”

Harbaugh held up a hand to silence Panzer. “I've been chasing these kinds of characters for a long time, and I've seen this sort of thing before. Some bored local girl hooks up with a bunch of outlaws when they blow into town, maybe even helps them with the score. Then they ride off together, laughing. Later, when we close in on them, they do a bit of playacting to convince us the girl's a helpless hostage so we don't shoot through her to get to them, and they use her as a distraction while they get away. Of course, these girls always have elaborate stories after the fact about how they were brutalized and forced into cooperating...and in my experience, those stories are always bullshit, without a shred of hard evidence to back them up.

“Well, I'm done falling for it,” Harbaugh concluded decisively. “I'm going to catch up to these hoods, and I'm going to see them dead or in bracelets. And so help me God, I'm not going to let some thrill-seeking bimbo stand in the way of justice. Not this time.”

Panzer felt his heart sinking with every word. From the look in Harbaugh's eyes as he delivered this fiery sermon, Panzer had no doubt that he meant everything he said—he'd shoot through Billie if it meant taking these robbers down.

“Now, I'm going to need to liaise with local law enforcement while I'm down here, since I'm not familiar with this area,” Harbaugh said. “Do you think you'll be able to keep up and lend a hand without tripping over your own shoes?”

“I guess I'd better,” Panzer said.

He desperately hoped he could somehow rescue Billie from these bikers and stop Harbaugh from hurting or killing her in the process, if it came to that.

But he wasn't sure he'd be able to.

Chapter 11

Billie

“So what should I call you?” Billie asked.

They'd been driving without words for over an hour, and she felt like this would be the perfect time to poke at him some more. Earlier, she'd gotten a kick out of seeing how far she could push him with her questions and comments. She knew he expected her to act scared and helpless, and she enjoyed the idea of proving him wrong by showing how fearless she could be. She was no one's damsel in distress, and she was proud of that.

“You don't have to call me anything,” the biker said, “because you're not supposed to be talking.”

“Oh, come on,” she pleaded. “I've got to call you something besides 'biker,' at least in my head. What's your name? Is it something totally embarrassing? Is it, like, Aloysius, or Humbert, or Newton or something like that?”

“I've got a perfectly normal name,” he said in a low, dangerous voice, “which I'm not going to tell you. You already know what my face looks like, so if you think I'm giving you more information that'll help the cops ID me later, you're an idiot.”

“Suit yourself.” Billie shrugged. “But that just means I'm going to have to come up with a name for you myself. How about...Clyde? You know, like Bonnie and Clyde?”

“We are not Bonnie and Clyde,” he snapped. She could see how much she was getting under his skin, and she cheered inwardly.

“Well, no, obviously I'm Billie, not Bonnie,” she said. “But it's close enough, right, Clyde?”

“Don't call me that.”

“Fair enough, Clyde,” she smirked.

He let out a frustrated growl, kicked the dashboard angrily, and fell into a morose silence.

Part of her understood that she should be frightened, or at least nervous. Even if she didn't really believe he'd hurt her or shoot her, she was still being held at gunpoint by a criminal, with no idea where they were going or what would happen next.

But the jitters she felt crackling through her body like lightning came from thrills, not fear. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so alive and excited. A handsome outlaw, a stolen car, and the cops on their heels...

And besides, she reasoned, the authorities will catch up to us eventually.

She was sure it wouldn't be Panzie who finally brought the hammer down, since he was such a useless ass of a sheriff. But still, based on the true crime TV shows she often watched, guys like these bank robbers rarely went unpunished. Once that happened, she'd enjoy getting even more attention as the police took down her statement and the news crews interviewed her about her harrowing ordeal. For a while, she'd be more than just some barmaid. She'd be a local celebrity.

Once all that starts to die down, she thought, who knows? Maybe I'll even write some steamy love notes to him while he's in prison, and People magazine will do a story on us.

She laughed to herself at this thought.

“What's so fucking funny?” he asked sourly.

“Nothing, Clyde,” she replied. “Just thinkin' me thinks, that's all.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Then tell me what your name is and I won't keep calling you Clyde, Clyde,” she teased.

He shot her a withering look.

“Okay, how about this,” she offered. “Just tell me the first letter of your name, and I won't bug you about it anymore, I promise.”

He sighed. “Fine. C. My name starts with a C.”

“There you go!” she exclaimed. “That wasn't so hard, right? Okay, so it starts with C, but it's not Clyde...”

“You promised you wouldn't bug me about this anymore,” he pointed out. “You literally said that two seconds ago.”

“Well, I was obviously lying, wasn't I?” Billie countered. “Jeez, for a professional criminal, you sure do take people at their word way too easily. Let's see. Chet? Chas? Casper?”

“Even if you guess, I'm not telling you,” he said. “Are we almost in Blue Lace yet, or should I just tuck and roll out of the car now and pray I land on something hard?”

“It'll be coming up in the next few minutes,” Billie assured him. “Look, there's even a sign for The Whippoorwill on the right. It's less than a mile from here.”

“Good. Turn off at the next road.”

“Why?” Billie asked. “We're not there yet.”

“Because by now, this car will be reported stolen too. So we can't just park it in front of a motel for people to see, can we? We have to ditch it and walk the rest of the way.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed, pulling the car onto another country road. “That makes sense.”

“I'm so glad you approve,” he answered. “See that deep ditch alongside the road, next to that corn field? Pull up next to it.”

Billie complied and “Clyde” leaned over, yanking the twisted wires apart. The engine shut off.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Now we're going to push this thing into the ditch and try to cover it with some corn stalks,” he said. “It won't be perfect, but it should still throw the cops off our tail a bit and buy us some time. Hopefully, the other two did something similar with their bikes. Oh, and don't go thinking you can try to run away while we're doing this, either,” he added. “That's not going to go well for you, believe me.”

“I'm having too much fun to run off now,” said Billie. “Besides, then what? I'd just be stuck out here in the hundred-degree heat instead of an air-conditioned motel room.”

“For fuck's sake,” he grumbled. “Is this all one big game to you or something?”

“Pretty much,” she laughed. “I mean, you must get a real kick out of all this bank-robbing, running-from-the-law stuff too, right? Otherwise, why would you do any of it? And anyway, when the cops catch up to us, it's not like I'm the one who's going to be in trouble. So in the meantime, I may as well ride along and have some fun.”

Clyde opened his mouth as though he was going to disagree, then closed it again. “If that's how you feel about it, fine,” he said. “Help me shove this thing into the ditch.”

They both braced against the trunk of the car and pushed as hard as they could. Slowly, the sedan started to roll forward and to the side, until the right front wheel went off the edge and the others followed. The car crashed down through a patch of reeds and sank into the brown water of the ditch up to the tops of its tires, settling in like a hippo wallowing in a watering hole.

Clyde started to gather armloads of tall, dried corn stalks from the edge of the field, and Billie followed suit. They tossed the stalks on top of the car and spread them out a bit.

“Well, it helps that the thing is dirty as hell,” Clyde said. “They probably won't find it for a few hours. That'll give me a chance to catch up to the other guys, and then hopefully we can all get some distance between us and the cops. Now let's start walking. And again, don't try to make a run for it, or we'll have some serious problems.”

“I told you...” she started.

“I know what you told me,” he said. “But maybe I'm done taking people at their word so much, professional criminal that I am. So just walk a few steps ahead and don't make any sudden moves.”

Billie rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

They started to walk along the muddy back roads and rocky footpaths as the corn stalks swayed around them.

Chapter 12

Billie

They made their way through fields and scrubby wooded patches for almost thirty minutes until they saw the sign for The Whippoorwill, depicting a cheerful-looking cartoon bird perched on top of an alarm clock. Billie glanced around the parking lot, but she didn't see any motorcycles.

“Looks like they got rid of their bikes, like you said,” she pointed out.

“That, or the cops caught up to them,” Clyde replied. He sounded worried.

“Assuming they didn't, how will we know which room they're in?” she asked. “I'm guessing asking at the front desk isn't an option.”

“You guess right,” he said. “We reserved a specific room in advance under a fake name, just in case we'd need to meet up here after the heist. Number 17.”

They found the room and Clyde stepped up to it, about to knock.

“But what if the cops did grab the other two?” Billie asked. “Aren't you worried that they might be in there, waiting for you to knock on the door so they can arrest you?”

Clyde considered that, then stepped back. “You've got a point,” he said. “Stand here, in front of the door.”

“Okay,” she said, taking his place. He stood behind her, and a moment later, she felt the barrel of his gun pressed against her back.

“Now if it's the cops, I've got a hostage at gunpoint,” he said.

“That makes sense,” Billie said, nodding.

She was learning a lot about the procedures robbers followed in real life. Movies about thieves could be a real hoot, but they rarely focused on the procedural details, and she found this information fascinating. Maybe I could even write a book about all of this when it's over, she thought.

“If it's cops, do you want me to say or do anything specific?” she asked. “Like, should I start screaming and crying, or tell them you're a desperate man and they'd better do what you say? That kind of thing?”

Clyde stared at her in disbelief. “Wow. You seem like you watch way too much television.”

“Hey, you saw the town where I live,” she said. “There wasn't much else to do there.”

“Fair point. Now knock.”

She rapped on the door with her knuckles, and a gruff voice answered. “Who is it?”

“It's me,” Clyde answered. “Open up.”

The door opened, revealing the faces of the short blonde man and the scarred redhead who'd been drinking with Clyde the previous night. Both of them had grins of relief which immediately curdled to confusion and anger as they saw that she was with him.

“You brought her here?” the redhead hissed at Clyde. “Have you lost your motherfucking mind, man?”

“Come on, let's get her inside, quick,” the blonde said, looking around outside to make sure no one was watching them.

They pulled Billie into the room and Clyde followed, shutting the door behind him and locking it.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” the redhead continued angrily, shaking a stubby finger at Clyde. “It's not enough she knows what our faces look like, now she knows our rendezvous spot too? Do you have rocks in your head, you stupid piece of shit?”

“What was I supposed to do with her?” Clyde asked, shrugging expansively.

“You know goddamn fucking well what you were supposed to do,” the redhead snapped. “You just didn't have the balls to do it.”

“You guys can all take a deep breath and relax,” Billie said, trying to sound reassuring. “I'm not going back to tell the cops anything about you. I'm having way too much of a good time to bail out now. I figure I'll just ride along with you until they catch up, and after that, it won't matter what I say to them, right? You'll be headed to prison either way, and I'll go back to my boring old life, and that'll be that.”

“I ain't goin' to prison,” the blonde said in a small, quavering voice. “Not ever again.”

“Oh, 'that'll be that,' huh?” the redhead snarled at her. “So you really think we're gonna just keep draggin' you along with us so you can slow us down, is that it, you ridiculous cunt?”

“Don't go calling me a cunt!” Billie answered hotly. She'd always hated that word and the kinds of men who used it. “I'm trying to tell you that you don't have to worry about me. I'm on your side.”

The redhead shot a vicious look at Clyde, who responded with a now-you-see-what-I've-had-to-put-up-with gesture.

“Let's get a few things straight here, sugar tits,” the redhead growled, grabbing her by the wrist and twisting it. She let out a yowl that was more surprise than pain. Why was he being so nasty to her?

“First of all, you ain't 'on our side,'” the redhead continued. “We're crooks an' you ain't, which puts us on opposite sides. Second, you're really dumb enough to think when all this is over, you're just gonna go back to the way things were? Bullshit. You knew we were gonna knock that bank over an' you didn't tell no one. You even helped us get away. Those pigs'll book you as an accessory faster than you can spit.”

Billie felt an uneasy flutter in her stomach. She'd been so caught up in finally having an adventure that she hadn't thought about that part. Hadn't she suspected them enough to wait in her car next to the bank? For that matter, hadn't she lied to Panzie about seeing them in the bar earlier yesterday? In retrospect, she realized that it would be hard for her to claim she was an unwilling hostage or a victim of circumstance. She might be in real trouble.

“Yeah, didn't think that through too good, did you?” the redhead sneered, seeing her expression change. “An third, you've seen what we look like. Which means if we turn you loose, you can give detailed descriptions to the cops, an' they can do a quick search for guys with records who match those pictures. An' then our rap sheets are pinned to the walls of every police station an' FBI field office from coast to coast, an' we're screwed. So just what the blue fuck makes you think we'd let you live, huh?”

Billie felt her previous excitement quickly drain out of her, replaced with genuine fear. She hadn't believed that Clyde had it in him to kill her, and she wasn't sure the short blonde man would either. But as she looked into the redhead's eyes, she realized she couldn't bring herself to think the same of him. He seemed like someone who would commit murder easily if it suited his purpose, and she felt herself start to tremble.

For the first time, she seriously considered the possibility that she might die, and she thought about what that might feel like. The concept made her feel like she'd been dunked in a tub of ice water.

“Hang on,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and steady. “There's no need for you guys to, uh, rush into anything where I'm concerned. I mean, maybe I could even help, y'know? Like, if you let me go, I could give the cops the wrong descriptions on purpose. I could give them fake names, too, and tell them I heard you guys mention you were headed for, I don't know, California or Canada or something. I could throw them off, give you guys a chance to get a head start...”

The redhead snorted derisively. “Right, sure. Pull the other one an' I'll whistle Dixie out my asshole.”

“You really don't have to kill me,” Billie insisted. “I promise. We can figure out something else.”

“Look,” Clyde said, “maybe killing her isn't the way to go. Do we really want to be facing murder charges if the cops catch up to us? That could be the difference between a ten-year stretch and life or the gas chamber.”

“You just sayin' that 'cause you're a pussy,” the redhead said.

“I'm a thief,” Clyde said. “And I'm a damn good one. But what I'm not is some bloodthirsty psycho who'll kill an innocent girl just because she's an inconvenience. I don't need that shit on my conscience. If that makes me a pussy, so be it.”

This gave Billie a bit of hope. Despite all of Clyde's tough talk and threats earlier, it seemed like she'd been right about him. If he was willing to face down the others when it came to the prospect of killing her, maybe she might have a chance at getting out of this alive after all.

“Well, I've killed plenty of people for plenty of fuckin' reasons,” the redhead retorted, “so if you can't handle that action, you can leave it to me. But don't try to convince me that leavin' her alive is somehow the smart play here, 'cause it clearly ain't. She's a liability, an' she's got to go. Period.”

“I ain't in a hurry to be an accessory to murder either, man,” the blonde chimed in, “but he's right. If we ain't gonna take her with us, then just lettin' her go so she can blab to the cops about us would be goofy. It don't seem like we got much of a choice here.”

“Of course we've got a choice,” Clyde said. “We can keep her around as a hostage, instead of committing a capital crime and fucking ourselves completely. If the cops do get too close, we can just hide behind her and threaten to blow her head off unless they back off. It's not like they're going to blast holes in a civilian just to put us down.”

“They definitely won't,” Billie agreed quickly. “That sheriff you saw wouldn't let them. He's had a crush on me since we were kids, he'd never...”

The redhead's arm moved so fast it was a blur, and before Billie had time to move or react, his meaty palm smacked her across the face hard. She reeled backward and almost fell on the bed, her cheek stinging.

“You ain't part of this discussion,” the redhead spat, “so shut it. An' don't start havin' no thoughts 'bout screamin' for help or nothin' like that, or the last thing you're ever gonna see is that pillow while I smother you to death with it. Nod if you fuckin' understand.”

Billie nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. She hated crying, and she usually never did it in front of anyone, but this time she couldn't help herself as she thought about whether these might be her last few moments on earth.

“There's no need for that shit,” Clyde said. “Knock it off.”

“Now you're gonna act protective of her?” the redhead balked. “Seriously? You seem to have gotten pretty goddamn attached over the past couple of hours. Which is a damn shame, 'cause from where I'm standin', it looks like we got a two-to-one vote to mop the bitch an' be done with it.”

“Did this suddenly become some kind of fucking democracy?” Clyde retorted. “Because last I checked, I'm still the leader of this outfit, and I say we leave her alive.”

“What 'outfit,' dickhead?” the redhead asked. “Our plans for starting our own MC are down the toilet. If we're smart, we'll forget about that an' head down to Mexico to disappear with the cash. We can chill out on a beach somewhere surrounded by cheap hooch an' hot mamacitas, an' wait for everythin' to blow over.”

“Fine, if Mexico's the plan, then Mexico's the plan,” Clyde said. “That works for me. You're right, staying in this country with the law after us would be silly. But it still doesn't mean I'm going to let you snuff her.”

The redhead sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “Look, I get it, okay? She's obviously cute, an' we all saw how badly you wanted to fuck her last night. You don't wanna waste a hot piece of ass. So how 'bout you just tie her down, gag her, an' take a few turns with her if it's so important to you, huh? Shit, maybe I'll even go for a ride myself. Then we can do what we gotta do an' put this whole thing behind us.”

“You're a sick asshole,” Clyde commented.

The redhead's eyes filled with black murder and his entire body tensed as he slowly walked over to Clyde, getting right in his face.

“Fuck her or don't,” he said, “but I'm gonna snuff her either way, an' I promise a punk like you ain't gonna be in no position to stop me.”

“You don't want to tangle with me,” Clyde said evenly. “Think it through.”

“Oh, I don't, huh?” The redhead shoved Clyde hard.

Before Clyde could respond, the blonde positioned himself between the two men. “Guys, stop it! If we turn on each other like this, the whole thing'll fall apart an' the cops'll get us for sure.” He turned to the redhead. “If he's so set on keeping her as a hostage for a while longer, maybe you an' I can split off on our own for a while. That way she won't be slowin' us down, an' the pigs will have more than one target to focus on.”

The redhead glared at Clyde. “Yeah, maybe that's the way to go. I could use a break from this cocksucker for a while anyway. We can meet up in two days at that truck stop we talked about before. You know the one, right?”

Clyde nodded. “Fine. Let's do that. It'll give us a chance to cool off, and then we can figure out a plan for getting across the border.”

“Just remember one thing, though,” the redhead added. “By the time we all meet up down there, she'd better be gone. Kill her or find some other way to get rid of her, but she ain't comin' across the border with us. If you show up an' she's still with you, I'll murder the fuckin' both of you.”

“I'm not scared of you,” Clyde said.

The redhead stared him down with eyes like a shark's. “You fuckin' well should be, asswipe.” He turned to the blonde. “Come on, let's blow. We need to find a new ride.”

The blonde and the redhead grabbed their bags and left the room, slamming the door behind them. Billie rubbed her aching cheek. It seemed like she was safe.

For the moment, anyway.

Chapter 13

Carter

After Hazmat and Oiler left the room, Carter realized that his hands were aching. He looked down and saw that he'd clenched them into fists at some point during their argument. He took a deep breath and opened them again, flexing them a few times.

“Thank you for standing up for me,” Billie said. Carter noticed that the tone of her voice had changed. The sassy, teasing bravado was gone, replaced with what sounded like real anxiety.

Good, he thought. Now that she knows how serious this situation is, maybe she'll stop screwing around and behave like a proper hostage. I hope so, anyway, since it looks like I'm stuck with her for the foreseeable future thanks to my big fucking mouth.

“Yeah, well, it's not because I like you or anything,” Carter said, “so don't get any ideas about that. Like I said, I'm a robber, not a murderer, that's all.”

But then again, he'd never been a kidnapper either, and now he was dragging her along without a solid plan to get rid of her. Bizarrely, he felt like someone who'd been forced into taking an unwanted pet. Now he'd have to worry about feeding her and letting her go to the bathroom, all while making sure she didn't run away. What a pain in the ass.

He thought about Hazmat, who'd always acted as a brutal and pitiless enforcer when they were members of the Hobgoblins. Carter hadn't exactly been squeamish about violence when it was needed, but Hazmat seemed to revel in it like some kind of ancient gladiator, smashing and stomping and screaming victoriously as he bathed in the blood of his enemies. Carter was known for being clever and good with plans and strategies, but when it came to carrying those plans out, Hazmat was an unholy force of nature.

Hadn't that been the reason Carter had chosen Hazmat as his VP? Because Hazmat wasn't afraid of getting his hands dirty and doing what needed to be done? So why had Carter stood in his way now, when it could have saved them so much hassle?

Well, his reasons for making Hazmat the VP of the Metal Monsters seemed irrelevant now, since their big ideas for founding an MC of their own had gone up in smoke.

So much for my “plans and strategies,” Carter thought, feeling like the world's biggest asshole.

“So, um, what happens now?” Billie asked, interrupting Carter's morbid thoughts.

“For starters, we'll need to put some distance between us and The Whippoorwill,” Carter answered. “It's still too close to Cactus Hollow, and the cops will be searching every motel in the vicinity. And we shouldn't steal another car from this parking lot, or it'll let them know we've been here.”

As he said this, Carter wondered whether Hazmat and Oiler would be smart enough to realize this as well, or if they'd already hotwired a ride and left. He briefly considered looking for them in the parking lot just in case, then decided it was best to stay out of sight as much as possible.

“The problem,” he continued, “is that I have no idea where we could possibly hole up in this godforsaken part of Texas, or how we'd get there if we did. So I'll have to give it some serious thought, and while I do, it'd probably be best if you didn't distract me by talking.”

“I might be able to help with that,” Billie said tentatively.

Carter raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“I've got a cousin named Samantha who lives over in Caddo Corners—” she began.

“We're not going to go see your cousin,” Carter said immediately. “You've probably been on the news by now as a kidnap victim. She'd call the cops on me the second our backs were turned. Nice try, though.”

Billie rolled her eyes. “Of course we're not going to see Samantha,” she said. “I'm not an idiot, and I'm not plotting against you, no matter what you think. But there aren't any motels in Caddo Corners and it's far from the main highways, so the cops will probably overlook it. Hell, everyone else does.”

“That still doesn't solve the problem of where we're going to spend the night,” Carter pointed out.

“That's the best part,” Billie said. “When I used to visit Sam when we were kids, we'd play around in the woods at the edge of town, near the border of the Taysha Indian reservation. There was an old abandoned shack in those woods. No one would ever think to look for us there.”

“Assuming the shack hasn't been torn down by now, or fallen down, or been ripped apart by a tornado,” Carter said, ticking the points off on his fingers, “or been converted to a summer cabin by yuppies...”

“Okay, those are all possibilities,” Billie conceded. “But unless you've got a better plan...”

Carter sighed. He didn't.

“Fair enough,” he said. “We'll try to reach this shack, and hope it's still there. If not, I guess we'll be sleeping in the woods, so I hope there aren't any coyotes around there.”

“There are, actually,” Billie said, “but since coyotes don't usually carry guns and you've got two of them, I think we'll be okay.”

Carter grimaced. He didn't scare easily, but coyotes had always given him a sense of dread, ever since he'd seen one tear a rabbit to shreds when he was four years old. He'd never admitted his fear of them to anyone, but he certainly wasn't in a hurry to see one anytime soon, either.

“So how far is Caddo Corners from here?” he asked. “Walking distance?”

Billie winced. “Well, that's the bad news. There's a pretty wide stretch of desert between here and there. We wouldn't be able to make it on foot.”

“Shit,” Carter spat. “I already told you, we can't steal a car from here without giving ourselves away. And we can’t go back to the sedan because it’s probably been reported as stolen by now. How the fuck are we supposed to get there without a ride?”

She smiled. “Actually, I think I've got an idea about that, too.”

Chapter 14

Carter

“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” Carter said.

After a fifteen minute walk, they were standing outside a paddock surrounded by a wooden split-rail fence. A cluster of horses stood inside it, neighing and stamping their hooves.

“Hey, you wanted a ride,” Billie said, “so here's your ride.”

“I'm a biker, for Christ's sake,” Carter grumbled. “If I'm going to ride something, it had better have a fucking engine in it.”

“Well, unless you're about to bend over and yank a motorcycle out of your ass, this is as good as it gets,” Billie retorted.

Carter noticed that she was starting to relax and crack wise again, and he was surprised to find that he didn't mind it. Part of him actually preferred her when she was joking and having fun, even if she irritated him. It gave her a kind of radiant, self-assured glow he'd rarely seen in women before.

That—plus the curves of her tits and the amazing way her ass swayed back and forth when she swaggered—reminded him of why he'd been so attracted to her in the bar the previous night.

But then, that already seemed like it was weeks ago, given everything that had happened since.

“What's the matter, anyway?” she asked. “Haven't you ever been on a horse before?”

“Sure I have,” Carter answered.

Billie put her hands on her hips and smiled at him. “Okay, let me try this again. Did you ever actually ride a horse, or did you sit on one at a farm when you were a kid and have them lead you around?”

Carter cleared his throat uncomfortably. That was exactly the context in which he'd been on a horse before, and it was also the same day he'd had his ugly encounter with the coyote, so he didn't think about it too often if he could help it.

Billie laughed. “All right, that's not a problem. I'll show you. You won't need to know much. We're just riding a few miles, not jumping fences or doing tricks or anything. Come on.”

She opened the gates of the fence and entered the paddock. Carter followed.

“How did you know about this place?” he asked.

“Almost everyone in Texas knows about Erasmus Tiller's horse farm,” she said. “He's been raising them and showing them at state fairs and 4-H events for over fifty years now. Shit, he's gotta be ninety years old if he's a day. That's how I know he won't see us—I went on a couple dates with his grandson a few years ago, and he once told me that the old buzzard spends half the day napping. So as long as we don't do anything too loud or stupid, we should be fine.”

“They used to hang people for this, you know,” Carter said.

“Huh?” She was already walking among the horses, trying to decide on one.

“Horse thievery,” Carter clarified. “Back in the days of the Old West, stealing a horse was a sure way to end up dangling from a rope.”

“I've seen that in the movies,” Billie said, “but didn't they also usually hang bank robbers and kidnappers too?”

Carter shook his head. “It was different. They took horse-thieving especially seriously since without their horses, people couldn't get around or do their farming, or even go get the doctor if their wives or kids got sick. Having their horses taken could ruin their lives, so horse thieves were considered the scum of the fucking earth.”

“Well, Old Man Tiller has about three dozen other horses, and the property he owns around here is worth tens of millions of dollars,” Billie replied, “so I think he'll survive. He's not going to do a head count of his stock for a few more hours, either, so we should be long gone by then.”

Carter snickered. “And even when he does report them stolen, it's not like the cops will automatically assume it was us. Most fugitives wouldn't use livestock to make their escape. They'll probably think it was just some kids or something.”

“Precisely,” Billie agreed. She sounded very proud of herself. “Here, this looks like a good one for you. He's older and he seems pretty calm.” She pointed to a sway-backed palomino.

“Cool,” Carter said, striding over to it. “Help me get on.”

“Whoa, hang on!” said Billie. “You can't just hop on. You have to introduce yourself to the horse first, so he'll be comfortable letting you ride him.”

Carter let out an exasperated sigh, then leaned over and spoke directly to the palomino. “Hello. It's nice to meet you. I'd shake hands, but you don't have any. Now how about helping me out of a jam by letting me ride you for a bit? Yeah?”

The palomino flicked its ears and turned its face away from him.

“You're gonna have to do better than that. Come on, be gentle with him. Talk to him and pet him a little, so he'll trust you.”

He took a deep breath and leaned in closer, stroking the horse's face. It whinnied quietly and bent its head, letting him caress its nose and ears. They felt like velvet, and Carter found that petting them was strangely relaxing. His nerves had been in overdrive since the bank robbery, and this was the first time he'd been able to soothe them.

“That's right,” he said quietly. “You're a nice horse, aren't you? Sure you are. You're just going to come with us for a little while, but there's no need to be scared. We're gonna take good care of you. Everything's going to be fine.”

Carter turned and saw that Billie was watching him with a small smile on her lips.

“What?” he asked defensively.

“You know, when you aren't doing the whole big bad tough guy act, you're actually kind of a sweetie,” she said.

“For fuck's sake, if you're going to make fun of me...” he snarled, backing away from the horse.

“No, I'm not making fun of you,” she insisted. “I really mean it. Your sensitive side is pretty sexy. Besides, it looks like you're starting to get on his good side. Do you want to try sitting on him now?”

“Sure, I guess,” Carter said dubiously.

“Okay, put your saddlebag up there first, just to test the waters a little,” she said. “Remember to be slow and gentle with it, and try not to make any sudden moves or you'll spook him.”

Carter removed the saddlebag from his shoulder and approached the horse again, carefully placing it on the animal's back. The palomino whickered softly and its tail twitched, but it remained in place.

“Very good,” Billie said encouragingly. “Now I'm going to give you a boost so you can get a leg over him. Ready?”

Billie crouched down and laced her fingers together next to the palomino. Carter put one hand on the horse's back and stepped up onto her hands with one boot, throwing his other leg over the horse. It whinnied and reared up briefly, and for a moment, Carter thought he might fall.

“Don't panic,” Billie said, “and don't pull on his mane. Just try to stay calm and keep your balance. If he knows you're spooked, it'll spook him too.”

“I ain't spooked,” Carter said, wobbling unsteadily and trying to stay on.

Billie laughed. “Prove it, then, big man.”

Carter willed himself to be calm and started to balance himself out. The palomino's movements slowed until it stood still again.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” Billie said. “Okay, now it's my turn.”

She strolled over to a brown and white pinto and lovingly cradled its face in her hands for a few minutes, cooing softly and whispering to it. Then she kept her hand on its neck as she walked around to its side. At first, Carter thought she wouldn't be able to hop up on her own—but she pulled herself onto the horse's back like an expert, and the pinto barely flinched.

Now that she was sitting astride the creature with her shoulders squared and the afternoon sunlight filtered through her auburn hair, Carter couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful and graceful she looked. The first time he'd seen her, he'd wanted to fuck her, no question about it.

But now there was something deeper in his longing for her, a peculiar ache that he wasn't used to feeling. He'd been with plenty of women before, but he'd never found himself as awestruck by one as he did now.

“You're staring,” Billie remarked with a grin.

“I'm just impressed, that's all,” Carter said, trying to sound casual. “You climbed up on that thing like it was nothing. Do you ride a lot?”

“Sure, all the time. There's a horse farm outside of Cactus Hollow, and they let me ride in exchange for helping out around the stables. Sometimes it's a nice change of pace from pouring beers and shots, and anyway, it's nothing compared to that mechanical bull. Speaking of which, are you ready to ride? We've got some serious ground to cover if we're going to make it to the shack before nightfall.”

“Okay,” Carter said. “So how do I do this?”

“Use your heels to gently prod the horse into moving forward,” she instructed. “Don't dig in too hard, just give him a little nudge to let him know what you want. Careful not to go too fast, though. It's hard to stay on top without reins or a saddle.”

Carter braced himself and carefully nudged the horse's sides with the heels of his boots. The palomino grunted and started to trot toward the open gate. Carter felt himself lurch backward, but he managed to stay on.

“Nicely done,” Billie laughed. “Time to hit the dusty trail, cowboy. Let's go!”

Carter tried to hold back a smile, but it came anyway. Damn, but she was ballsy. Her sense of adventure was infectious, and he discovered that he was actually starting to enjoy her company.

He wondered how things might have unfolded between them if they'd met under different circumstances—if he'd just been riding through town instead of on a robbery spree, if he'd taken his chances with the mechanical bull and gone home with her last night after all.

He tried to remind himself that once it was time to cross the border into Mexico, he'd have to cut her loose—she probably had family who'd be worried about her and a life she'd want to get back to.

That was hard to think about, so instead he watched the curves of her body and the jiggle of her tantalizing ass as she rode ahead of him.

Chapter 15

Billie

Waves of heat shimmered off the desert sand as they rode. They'd been at it for almost three hours, and the sun's rays were still unforgiving as it baked the sand and their bodies.

Billie patted her pinto's hot hide and it neighed unhappily. Foam was beginning to gather at the corners of its mouth, and its steps were becoming more tired and plodding. It would need food and water soon or else it would collapse. Clyde's horse would, too.

Before they'd left The Whippoorwill, they'd taken the two bottles of water from the mini-fridge so they could try to stay hydrated during their journey. But even though the water turned warm fast and Billie tried to restrain herself from taking anything but tiny sips from it, her supply still ran out quickly, and now she was left without a drop. Worse, she could feel the sun burning her exposed face and arms, and the top of her head felt like it was on fire.

She was getting dizzy and sick to her stomach, and as the world around her started to become a miasma of wavy lines, she realized she could no longer tell if it was a heat mirage or if her own vision was becoming blurred from dehydration.

Why had she been so insistent on parking in front of the bank and witnessing a crime that morning? Why had she been dumb enough to lean out of the car and yell out to the robbers? Why had she insisted on treating this whole thing like some kind of amusement park ride instead of taking it seriously and staying out of harm's way like most sane people would?

Most of all, why had she believed it was a clever idea for them to ride across this hellish stretch of nowhere? And on horseback, no less?

If only she'd spent her day off at home, she could be inside with the air conditioner cranked as high as it would go. She could be drinking cold beers and dozing off on her couch while watching the harmless cops and robbers on TV, instead of being threatened by real ones and risking a lonely and agonizing death in this parched wasteland.

She thought about all of the times she'd foolishly believed that there could be no worse fate than spending a long, boring, miserable life in a town like Cactus Hollow. But oh, how wrong she'd been.

Her pinto suddenly brayed with fright and reared up, and Billie saw that a rattlesnake had crossed its path. The rattler bared its fangs briefly, then continued on its way. But even as it slithered out of sight, the sound of its rattle still filled Billie's ears until it seemed to press against the backs of her eyeballs. She felt a nauseating lurch as she saw the ground spinning up to meet her.

Before she could fall over, a firm hand clamped on her shoulder, steadying her. Clyde was next to her on his own horse, his eyes filled with concern.

“You okay?” he asked. His cheeks and forehead were bright red, and his lips were cracked. His long hair was plastered to his sweaty neck and temples.

Billie nodded and tried to lick her lips to respond, but her tongue was like sandpaper. All she could do was let out a croak.

“Here,” Clyde said, extending his own water bottle. There were still a few drops swishing around at the bottom. “Drink the rest of this.”

Billie took the bottle gratefully, its clear plastic burning her fingers as she gulped down the last of its contents. It felt like it had been warmed on a stove top, but at least its moisture broke through the web of sticky dryness that filled her mouth and throat.

“Thank you,” she managed, coughing and tossing the bottle to the ground.

“Take this,” Clyde said, shrugging off his leather vest and handing it to her. “Drape it over the top of your head. It should give you a little shade and ward off heatstroke for a while longer.”

She placed it on her head carefully. The leather was hot and the manly musk of his sweat clung to it, but it kept the sunlight from beating down on her brain like a drum.

“How close are we to the woods?” Clyde asked.

“Couple…more…miles,” Billie wheezed.

“Do you think you'll be able to make it?”

She tried to laugh, but all that came out was a gagging sound. “Fuck you care? No more hostage, no more problem, right? Save you guys th' trouble've killing me.”

“No one's going to kill you,” Clyde said. “I won't let anything bad happen to you, I promise. You just need to hold on for me a little longer, though, okay?”

At first, Billie thought he was just telling her what she wanted to hear so she'd pull herself together and get them to the shack faster. But when she looked into his eyes, she could see that he meant it. There was real kindness and compassion in them which she'd never seen there before.

“Just...tell me y'r real name, okay?” Billie asked. “Just so I can...put in a good word for you...up there. Heh...seems like you might end up...needin' it...”

He hesitated for a moment, then leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Carter. My name's Carter.”

“Carter,” she repeated through dry, cracked lips. “Wow. Shitty name. Should've...stuck with Clyde.”

“Just stay strong and hang in there a few more minutes, and you can call me whatever you want,” Carter said.

He really is a sweetie after all, she thought as whole galaxies of stars twinkled and popped in her peripheral vision. That's nice. Who would've thought? Big bad biker, caring about little old me. That's nice. Doesn't matter, since we're going to die out here with the snakes and the scorpions. Still, that's nice. That's...

Reality was pulled out from under her then, but instead of falling down on the hard sand, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around her and pull her up, up, until everything went white and she was sure she was being carried by an angel up to heaven. A voice was calling her name.

How lovely, she thought. Someone up here must be expecting me.

Chapter 16

Panzer

Panzer used his sleeve to mop the sweat from his brow as he and Broyles looked down into the ditch. Federal agents were swarming over Henry Sunday's white sedan, tossing aside the corn stalks that camouflaged it and searching for evidence. The sun was just starting to turn red and sink behind the horizon.

“That car was faster than a greased weasel,” Panzer muttered. “So why the hell did he get rid of it so soon after grabbing it?”

“You don't get many thieves around here, do you, Sheriff?” Harbaugh sneered.

“Virgil Mendlow's grandson once stole a couple candy bars from Pembleton's Pop Shop 'bout two, three years ago?” Broyles offered.

“Jesus, Broyles,” Panzer sighed.

“He ditched the car to throw us off, you banjo-plucking nimrod,” said Harbaugh. Despite his harsh words, his tone was distant and contemplative as he mulled this over. “He rode it just far enough to be sure we were still looking for Ms. Rosewood's red coupe, and once he figured enough time had passed for us to discover that Mr. Sunday's car had been stolen, he rolled it down there and continued with her on foot.”

“They couldn't keep going like that for long, though,” Panzer pointed out. “They'd have to either steal another ride or find someplace nearby to hole up.”

“There's no way they'd go to ground anywhere near here,” Harbaugh said, shaking his head. “Based on their patterns of behavior after their previous robberies, they'll want to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the scene of their last crime. Still, the fact that they were willing to split up during their escape tells me that they must have arranged a place to meet up afterward, just in case they got separated. Are there any motels nearby?”

“Sure,” Panzer replied, pointing toward each one as he listed them. “There's The Whippoorwill Motor Lodge and The Canasta Inn over that way, and in the opposite direction there's The Red Rider Motel.”

“Shit,” Harbaugh snapped. “I guess our best option is to have your deputy call each motel to see if they've had bikers check in, or if any cars have been reported stolen from their parking lots. That's if he isn't too busy filling out his application for Mensa.”

“Naw, I got plenty of time,” Broyles said, taking his cell phone from his pocket and walking a few feet away.

“You shouldn't keep makin' fun of him like that,” Panzer mumbled. He could feel his face turning red again, but he didn't care. Broyles may not have been a brain trust, but he still didn't like seeing him get publicly belittled by some grouchy fed from out of town.

“Sheriff, you're absolutely right,” Harbaugh retorted. “There's nothing to be gained from that kind of behavior, and I apologize. If anything, I should be saving all of my derision for you, since it'd be so much easier for us to figure out which motel they checked into if you'd bothered to get reliable descriptions of them in the bar.”

“Look, maybe I didn't memorize every tiny detail about these guys,” Panzer huffed. “But I'm not blind either, okay? I got the basics. Not that you bothered to ask earlier when you were too busy callin' us all hicks an' such.”

“Sure. The basics…that they were breathing air and wearing pants?”

Panzer fumed, but remained silent.

“If only we could lift one goddamned usable print,” Harbaugh grumbled, more to himself than anyone else. “At least then we'd probably have a rap sheet to circulate, and known associates to look into. But based on the zilch we were able to collect from the red coupe, he must be wearing gloves, and there's no reason to believe he'd have taken them off in this car.”

Broyles returned, tucking his cell phone back in his pocket. “I spoke with them managers?” he began. “Ain't no one checked into The Canasta all day, but The Whippoorwill an' The Red Rider both had new people come in an' reserve rooms, includin' two or three who looked like they could be biker types. None of 'em had any of the vee-hickles reported stolen from their parkin' lots, but they're gonna go double-check just in case they ain't been noticed missin' yet.”

“So now we've narrowed it down to two places, in opposite directions from each other,” Harbaugh said. “Swell. By the time we rule one of them out and focus on the other one, these jokers will probably have a massive head start on us.”

“Agent Harbaugh!” one of the feds called out from the ditch. “You oughtta come look at this.”

Harbaugh smiled, tossing the cigarette away and carefully stepping down to the side of the ditch. “What is it, Mulcahey?” he asked. “Please, tell me there's a God and you found some prints after all.”

“No fingerprints,” Mulcahey said, “but there's a big, dusty bootprint from where he must have kicked the dashboard.” He pointed out the dirty tread pattern stamped on it.

“Better than nothing,” Harbaugh admitted, peering at it. “Can we match it to any of the prints in the mud around the car? That would tell us which way they headed, at least.”

Mulcahey and the other agents examined the mud for a few moments as Harbaugh looked on.

“Looks like they went toward The Whippoorwill,” Harbaugh observed. “We may as well send out people over there to check out the rooms, even though they're most likely long gone by now.”

Broyles' cell phone buzzed and he answered it. “Yeah, Clem? Really? Okay, thanks fer lettin' us know.” He hung up again. “The manager at the Whippoorwill said a couple motorcycles went missin' from their parkin' lot. No way of knowin' when they were taken exactly, since their owners was takin' a nap in their room durin' the theft.”

“Only two motorcycles,” Harbaugh mused. “So they must have decided to split up again. Two went ahead on the bikes, while the third went a different way, presumably with Ms. Rosewood.”

“Who was dragged along under duress, no doubt,” Panzer said.

“You keep peddling that theory,” said Harbaugh, “and I'll keep telling you it's bullshit. If she's really being held against her will, then I'm the Lone fucking Ranger.”

“Even assuming you're right about that—and I'm still sure you're not—how the hell could they keep moving without stealing anything to ride?” asked Panzer. “There aren't any other stores or parking lots over in that direction. There's just farms, and beyond that, there's too much desert to cross on foot without burning to a crisp or dying of thirst.”

Harbaugh frowned. “Farms? What kinds of farms?”

“Well, there's Pete Crabtree's soybean field,” Panzer said. “And there's Red Hawley. He grows corn, mostly. But other than those boys, and Old Man Tiller's horse farm…”

“A horse farm,” Harbaugh said slowly. “Sheriff, I think we should get over there as fast as we can.”

“You mean you don't wanna check out The Whippoorwill after all?” Broyles asked, scratching his head.

“They wouldn't be stupid enough to still be there,” said Harbaugh. “And if I'm right, this Tiller fellow might have been the victim of a crime, too. One he hasn't even found out about yet. Now come on, let's roll.”

Harbaugh walked toward his car. Panzer followed, wondering what the fed was talking about and hoping like hell he could find a way to bring Billie home safely.

Chapter 17

Billie

Billie felt something cool and damp pressed against her cheeks and forehead. She opened her eyelids slowly and saw that she was in the wooded area from her childhood, lying on soft dirt and leaves. Carter was crouched over her, naked from the waist up. He was using his wet t-shirt to gently dab at her face, which felt badly sunburned. Above him, the boughs of the trees waved and rustled in the faint breeze. Somewhere nearby, she could hear the sound of flowing water.

Even though she was groggy, she still couldn't help but admire his well-defined pecs and abs as the last few rays of sunlight played across them. She almost reached up to run her hands over them reflexively, until she remembered that it would be inappropriate given the nature of their relationship so far.

“Hey, you're awake,” Carter said, smiling. “Good. I was doing my best to cool you down, but I don't know a lot about how to treat heatstroke. The helmet usually does a decent job of that when I'm riding, you know?”

“Water,” Billie gasped.

“Yeah, there's a little stream over there,” Carter said, tilting his head in the direction of the water sounds. “I didn't really have anything to put it in so I could bring it over and give it to you, plus I didn't want to risk pouring it down you while you were unconscious in case you choked. Do you think you can move over to it? If so, you can cup your hands and drink that way, like I did.”

Billie nodded and tried to sit up. Carter carefully put his arms around her and lifted, half-carrying her. Together, they made their way over to a narrow stream running between some rocks and patches of wildflowers. The horses were bowing their heads over it and lapping up the water.

“Here, let's get you upstream so you won't be slurping down any horse spit,” Carter suggested. “I guess fish still fuck in it, but it's better than nothing, right?”

He carried her a few more feet and lowered her again until she was perched next to the stream. She put her trembling hands together and dipped them under the water, pulling out enough to gulp a mouthful of it before the rest slipped through her fingers. She repeated this process again and again.

“That horse you picked for yourself is a tough one,” Carter said. “Mine barely made it, but yours stayed strong right up to the end, even with you slung across its back. Still, it's a good thing this stream was close to the edge of the woods, or I'm not sure we would have survived more than a few more steps.”

Billie nodded, taking one last handful of water. Her head was finally starting to clear, and her mouth no longer felt like there was cement hardening in it.

“Thank you,” she said. Her voice was still a little raspy. “You saved my life.”

Carter's eyes shifted downward, and he looked slightly embarrassed. “Well, a dead hostage isn't worth much, as far as I can tell. Anyway, I'm glad you're okay.”

“How are you?” she asked. Even in the shadows of the woods, she could see that Carter's face was beet red. It looked painful, and she wondered whether her own sunburn looked worse.

“I'm fine,” he said. “I'm damn near starving to death, though, since I haven't had anything to eat since yesterday. Everyone always says breakfast's the most important meal of the day. Guess I should have listened to them, huh?”

“I didn't have breakfast either,” Billie said. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized that with all of the action earlier that day, she hadn't had time to feel particularly hungry. Now, though, she discovered that she was ravenous.

“Well, if you can find this shack you were telling me about, I can try to find us something to eat,” said Carter. “I'm not sure how much luck I'll have, though. I haven't seen many animals around, and I have no idea which plants are edible and which ones are poisonous. I'm not in that big a hurry to find out, either.”

“We could always eat the horses,” Billie joked.

Carter snickered. “What are you, French or something?”

There was a brief silence, and then suddenly they were both on the ground, rolling around and laughing hysterically. The joke wasn't that funny, and Billie didn't know whether one or both of them were still suffering the effects of heatstroke, but in that moment it was somehow the most hilarious fucking thing Billie had ever heard in her life. She cackled helplessly until tears streamed down her cheeks.

“So, where is this shack supposed to be, anyway?” Carter asked, trying to compose himself as chuckles bubbled out of his mouth uncontrollably.

“It's about a quarter of a mile from here,” Billie said as her giggles finally started to die down. “Here, help me up again and I'll show you.”

Carter helped her to her feet and they led the horses deeper into the woods, still snorting and snuffling with laughter.

Chapter 18

Billie

As Billie and Carter approached the little shack in the woods, Billie thought about all the times she'd played there with Samantha as a child.

Billie liked to make believe that the shack was a fort or homestead in the Old West. She'd grab a fallen tree branch and point it out the windows, pretending it was a Winchester rifle and imagining hordes of Indians or outlaws in black hats attacking them. But Samantha preferred fantasy tales, and she'd sometimes insist that the shack was a witch's lair or a haven for woodland fairies.

Looking at Carter—long-haired, shirtless, and leading a pair of horses through the misty woods at twilight—Billie had to admit that this looked more like a scene from Samantha's imagination than her own. It wasn't hard to picture him as a brave medieval knight on a quest through an enchanted forest.

The shack that awaited them looked almost the same as it had the last time Billie had seen it, over ten years ago. The wooden walls were warped from countless seasons of rain, and vivid green moss grew all over them. The shingled roof was buckled in the center from a heavy branch that had caved it in during a storm. The windows were all broken, the glass shards long since swept and scattered by the wind. Tall grass and wildflowers grew up through the rotted steps leading to the front door.

“This must be the place,” Carter commented, looking at it.

“I know it doesn't look like much, but at least it'll give us a floor to sleep on and a roof to stay dry under if it starts to rain. Well, most of a roof, anyway,” she amended.

“I've slept in worse places,” Carter shrugged. “Come on, we may as well go inside and sit for a bit before we start grubbing for berries and squirrels out here. At least the horses have plenty of grass to graze on.”

They walked up the rickety steps, looked inside the shack—and stopped in their tracks.

“Was all this stuff here the last time you saw this place?” Carter asked.

Billie shook her head.

Even though the outside of the shack still looked dilapidated and abandoned, the inside was furnished with several chairs and a cot—all of them covered in plastic—plus a couple of waterproof lamps, a long table, a small TV, and a mini-fridge. There was a large box of plastic sandwich bags on the table, as well as a hot plate, some utensils, a can opener, and several cans of soup and vegetables.

Carter could see that a large section of the floor in the corner of the shack had been replaced with new boards, and there was a gas can resting on them.

Carter opened the fridge to look inside. The light stayed off and no cool air drifted out, but the bottom of the fridge was full of beers, and bottles of water and soda occupied every inch of the top rack. He immediately took a bottle of water for himself and tossed another one to Billie, who opened it and drank half of it down in two big gulps.

“What the hell is all this stuff wired up to?” Carter murmured to himself, twisting the cap off his water bottle. He followed the cords to a hole drilled low in the rear wall of the shack, and when he went out back, Billie followed. They saw a generator. A short distance away, there was an outhouse that looked like it had been built within the past year or two.

“All of this seems pretty convenient, doesn't it?” Carter asked.

“Yeah,” Billie agreed, thinking of Samantha's fairy tales again. “Like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, or the candy house from Hansel and Gretel. Do you think we should stick around, or...?”

“Fuck yeah,” he replied without hesitation.

Carter went back inside to retrieve the gas can. He unscrewed it and started pouring fuel into the generator. “There's no reason to be worried. From the looks of it, some locals probably found this place and decided to keep it stocked for whenever they go hunting. We can spend a nice night, help ourselves to some of their food and beer, and be gone tomorrow morning. I doubt they'll know anyone was here, and even if they did, they probably wouldn't begrudge a couple of people who are starving and damn near dying of thirst.”

“But what if they come back tonight while we're here?” Billie asked.

“Slim chance of that,” Carter said, switching the generator on. It gave out a few coughs, belched a cloud of thick smoke, then started running with a smooth hum. “But even if they do—whether it's hunters, talking bears, or a witch—these guns of ours will probably do a decent job of frightening them off.” He pulled out both of his guns, holding them up for effect.

“Well, gift horses and all that, I guess,” Billie conceded.

“That's the spirit,” he said, carrying the gas can back inside. “Let's fire up the hot plate and see what's on TV, shall we?”

Chapter 19

Carter

A couple of hours later, Carter was sitting in one of the plastic-covered chairs, drinking a beer. Billie sat in another chair next to his, her leg dangling over one armrest as she spooned corn niblets into her mouth from an open can. They both used additional cans of chilled beer as makeshift ice packs, pressing them against their sunburned necks and faces.

They both watched the tiny, glowing TV screen. No matter how much Carter messed with the flimsy antennas on top of the set, the grainy picture still hissed with static, and every few minutes the picture would roll upward. Keeping his eyes on it gave Carter a mild headache, but still, he had to admit that it was nice to relax with a cheap beer and some shitty television after everything he'd been through. It sure beat the hard, moldy floors and foraged scraps of food he'd expected on the way to the shack.

“No matter where I go, it seems like whenever I turn on the TV, there's always a Western movie playing on at least one channel,” Carter mused.

“Really?” Billie asked. “I always figured that was just because I live in Texas.”

“Nope, it's pretty much true everywhere,” he said. “Weird, right?”

Billie shrugged. “Works for me. I love Westerns.”

“Me too,” Carter said. “My mom used to show them to me. This was always one of the best ones, though.”

“Oh, hell yeah. This is my favorite scene coming up.”

“The one with the mule?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

They watched in silence for a few moments as Clint Eastwood glared with icy blue eyes at a trio of good-for-nothing cowpokes and demanded that they apologize to his mule for laughing at it.

When the laughing stopped and the shooting started, Billie finished off her corn and put the empty can on the floor. “So your mom is the one who gave you the unfortunate name of Carter, huh? How'd that happen?”

“I think she was hoping for a girl,” Carter said. “And she was a big fan of Helen Carter, the country singer from the '50s. I'm pretty sure she originally meant to name me Helen and make Carter my middle name, but when she found out I was going to be a boy, she just went with Carter instead.”

“And she showed you Westerns? That's kind of strange. I mean, I would think that usually it'd be a guy's father who would do that.”

“I never knew my father,” Carter said. “He ran out on my mom before I was born. She didn't talk about him much, and when she did, she almost never called him by his real name. Her 'sperm bank,' that was what she called him. She showed me these flicks because she liked how respectful most of the good guys were to the women in them. She wanted me to grow up to be like that, I guess.”

As he said this, Carter realized that he couldn't remember ever telling anyone about his childhood before. He usually didn't spend much time thinking about it, and he knew it should probably make him uncomfortable to talk about it, especially with some girl he'd only known for a day. But somehow, he found that he didn't mind.

Besides, he'd already told her his real name, so it wasn't as though disclosing this information would hurt him later on. By the time Billie had a chance to tell any of this to the cops, he figured he'd be over the Mexican border and long gone.

“So what does she think of you riding around with bikers and robbing banks?” Billie asked.

“She, uh, died when I was seventeen,” Carter replied. He kept his eyes on the screen and his voice steady, even though the thought of her death still ached like an old wound. “She worked in a grocery store, and after she closed up one night, some guy jumped her in the parking lot and stabbed her for her purse. The cops never caught him. She only had twelve dollars in that purse, but...” He trailed off, finishing his beer and popping the top off the one he'd been using to cool his skin.

“Jesus, I'm so sorry,” said Billie. He could feel her eyes on him, but he didn't want to turn and look. He didn't want to see the sympathy there—he hadn't had much use for that look in the eyes of adults when he was a kid, and he didn't have any use for it now either.

“Don't worry about it,” Carter said. “I've mostly gotten over it. Those first few years, though, I was really fucking angry. I used to get in a lot of fights, and one time, after I put some kid in the hospital for making fun of me, the judge gave me the choice of going to prison or joining the Army and heading off to Iraq.”

“How did that go?”

“It wasn't so bad over there,” he answered, taking a sip of beer. “I learned a lot about how to fight, how to shoot, and how to keep from dying in the heat. I wasn't too big on taking orders, though, so it was nice to come back when it was over. By then, joining an MC seemed like the only thing that made sense. And it was good, too, for a while. Then the MC I was in got massacred by a bunch of fucking gangster scumbags, and the other guys and I decided to knock over some banks and use the cash to form a new one. Guess that's not going to happen now, though. Mexico's got plenty of its own gangs and bullshit without some gringo trying to set up shop down there.

“Anyway, what's your story?” Carter added, hoping to take the focus off himself. “You've probably got a lot of friends and family back in Cactus Hollow who are worried about you, right?”

“No friends,” Billie said. “Just the guys who come into the bar night after night, hoping I'll throw them a fuck or tell them a good joke. I mean, there's that sheriff, sure, but he's always been kind of a needy dweeb. And no family, either. My parents died in a car crash when I was eight, so I stayed with my aunt and uncle near here until I got old enough to move back and get a place of my own.”

She thought about this for a moment, frowning. “Looking back, I guess that would have been a good time for me to go find someplace else to live instead. But at the time, I couldn't really think of anywhere else I wanted to be. Stupid, right? A whole wide world to explore, and I just ran back to the same old shithole I'd always known.”

Carter didn't respond to this, but he certainly understood what she meant. He'd often had the same thoughts about coming back from Iraq. He could have gone anywhere, done anything, learned and traveled and discovered a million other things to do with his life. But instead, he'd settled right back into what was easy for him.

“I think I'm going to catch some shut-eye,” Carter said. “I'm pretty fucking exhausted. Are you going to stay up and finish the movie?”

“Nah, I know how it ends,” said Billie. She got up and switched the TV off. “You want the cot? It's the least I can do after you saved my ass earlier.”

Carter shook his head, grinning. “You take it. I insist. Otherwise, my mom would never forgive me for my lack of chivalry.”

Billie laughed, flopping onto the cot. The plastic cover squeaked under her body. “Fair enough. Aren't you worried about me trying to run off while you're asleep, though?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Should I be?”

“Nope,” Billie yawned, curling up on her side. “Too tired. Sweet dreams, Carter.”

“Goodnight, Billie,” he said, doing his best to recline in his chair. It was a little uncomfortable, and for a while, he considered joining her in the bed. After all, hadn't she mentioned before that she'd been willing to fuck him the previous night?

And hadn't she hinted that her willingness hadn't exactly waned since then?

Before he could decide, he heard her snoring lightly and figured the choice had been made for him. He grunted once in frustration, then tilted his head back and tried to doze off.

Chapter 20

Carter

The plastic covering the furniture made it difficult for Carter to sleep because every time he or Billie shifted positions, it made creaking and squealing sounds. Billie seemed to be a much heavier sleeper since these noises didn't wake her.

Carter had slept on the ground in countless states, with owls hooting, animals braying in nearby fields, and hard roots digging into his back. Still, he'd generally been able to sleep through all of that without any trouble.

This damn plastic, though. It just didn't feel or sound natural, and it took him a long time to relax enough for sleep to overtake him.

When it finally did, the stresses of the previous twenty-four hours all seemed to catch up to him at once, and his weary body and mind surrendered completely. His sleep was deep and dreamless, and he didn't wake up again until the first ghostly rays of sunlight started to creep in through the broken windows and the hole in the ceiling.

Carter pulled himself out of the chair and stretched. He was still a bit groggy, but overall, he felt like he'd recovered from almost everything he'd gone through yesterday. He touched his face gingerly, feeling the sting of the sunburn. It hurt, and he knew that he probably looked fucking ridiculous with such a red face, but he'd endured much worse before.

On the whole, he felt strangely energized and optimistic. They'd gotten this far, hadn't they? They hadn't seen a single cop on their tails since the robbery, they'd survived the desert, and they'd even found plenty of unexpected provisions in the cabin. Carter wasn't particularly superstitious, but he felt like fortune was smiling on them, and he was confident that he would make it down to Mexico with Hazmat and Oiler after all.

And maybe their plans for founding a new MC weren't completely down the tubes, either. After a couple years of keeping their heads down in Mexico, who knows? Maybe things would blow over enough for them to cross over into the U.S. again and put something together. Hazmat had been angry about the whole Billie situation, but he got angry a lot, and he usually got over it eventually.

He thought about grabbing another bottle of water from the fridge, then realized his bladder was aching. He opened the back door of the shack, then paused briefly to look at Billie while she slept. Even in the dim light, he could see that her sunburn looked pretty harsh, too.

But sunburns fade, he thought. That pretty face of hers will be back to normal in a few days. And at least she's safe.

He wasn't sure why the fact that she was safe should feel so important to him, but it did. He tried to tell himself that it was because she'd be no good as a hostage if she was dead, or that she’d need to be healthy for when he dropped her off somewhere on his way to the border. But somehow, neither of those explanations seemed to fit.

Carter stepped out, closing the door gently behind him. There were tall weeds with long, serrated leaves growing in thick patches between the cabin and the outhouse. He gave them a cursory glance to make sure they weren't poison ivy, then tromped through them and opened the narrow door to the outhouse, peering in. He couldn't see any snakes or animals inside, but he smacked the side of the doorway a few times to scare them away, just in case. There was no movement, so he stood over the hole, unzipped his jeans, and relieved himself.

As he did, Carter considered his immediate future some more. How would Billie factor into that? He'd still have to cut her loose before crossing over into Mexico. Ideally, he knew he should do it before meeting up with the others at the truck stop, to keep things from flaring up with Hazmat again. He knew their faith in his leadership was shaken—he was the one who'd insisted they'd be safe hitting that last bank, which was where all of this trouble had started for them—but he was confident that he could earn it back fairly quickly as long as he didn't show up to their rendezvous with Billie on his arm.

Still, the thought of just turning her loose wasn't sitting well with him. He knew he could move around and evade the law more easily without her, but he'd also come to enjoy her company. She could be funny and resourceful, and her knowledge of the state had helped them out of a couple of jams already.

And he had to admit that it was difficult to think of walking away from her without ever having the chance to find out how her body would feel pressed against his, or the sounds she made when she was fucking.

He shook himself off and zipped up, wading through the weeds again to get back to the cabin. When he opened the back door and stepped in, he found himself looking at Billie again, and for the first time, he allowed himself to consider the possibility of taking her to Mexico with him.

Why not? She'd admitted that there was nothing and no one to keep her in Cactus Hollow. It seemed like a life of travel and adventure would suit her more than going back to that shitty bar and pouring whiskey shots for hayseeds. Plus, there was clearly an attraction between them. Hell, if the new MC had already existed, he'd probably have invited her to stick around as his girlfriend. So why not before then?

But crossing the border would already be difficult enough for him, Oiler, and Hazmat, even without the authorities knowing who they were. Everyone would be on the lookout for Billie by now, and taking her with them would mean they couldn't just breeze past the border guards on bikes and hope they wouldn't be searched randomly. They'd have to hide her, or disguise her, or...

Shit.

Carter shook his head, trying to clear it. Trying to make plans for her to come with them was stupid, no matter how pretty she was or how much Carter liked having her around. He'd only known her for a day, and that couldn't possibly make her worth scrapping what few plans he and the others had left to get out of this in one piece with their money.

Billie mumbled something in her sleep and turned over onto her other side. Carter realized that he'd been standing and staring at her for too long, and he figured she'd probably find that kind of creepy if she happened to wake up and see him standing there. He decided to give her some more time to sleep before they started off again.

As he walked back to his chair, he felt the tip of his boot connect with something small, sending it skidding across the floor. He followed it and bent down to pick it up, examining it carefully.

It was a digital scale.

Carter frowned. He'd seen scales like this one before, mostly when the Hobgoblins had used them to weigh out baggies of coke and heroin before selling them. As far as he could tell, there weren't many other uses for such scales except for weighing ingredients before cooking—and looking around, he couldn't see any food items that would require such precision.

His eyes fell upon the box of sandwich bags on the table, and a bad feeling started to creep over him.

Carter opened the back door again, looking out at the foliage between the shack and the outhouse. Earlier, he'd only been interested in whether the plants with the long, spiky leaves were harmful. But now that he really stopped to examine them, he had no trouble recognizing them.

Still, it could just be a coincidence. He didn't want to wake Billie up until he was sure.

He looked for the floorboards that appeared newer than the others and took his pliers out of his vest, crouching down. Slowly, carefully, he pried up the nails that held the wood down and lifted the boards up, peering under them.

There were dozens of bricks of dried marijuana buds wrapped in plastic.

Fuck me, he thought. The people who use this cabin aren't hunters.

And they could be coming back any minute.

Chapter 21

Billie

Billie sat in a darkened movie theater with Samantha, sharing a large tub of popcorn with her. Samantha was still eight years old, and as she looked down at her own hands and dress, Billie realized that she was too.

Without turning around, Billie somehow knew that Panzie was sitting several rows behind them. She could hear his fussy, frustrated sighs and the crinkling of his candy wrappers, and she understood that he was jealous that she'd go to the movies with someone else. She had a sudden urge to turn around and throw popcorn at him for being so silly.

The previews ended, and Billie experienced those familiar few seconds during which she forgot which movie they were here to see. Then she remembered—Samantha had wanted to see some stupid thing about wizards and goblins, but Billie had insisted on a Western. And as always, Billie won, since her aunt and uncle were so willing to indulge her after the deaths of her parents. This had never really occurred to her when she was a child, but now the realization brought her a nauseating wave of guilt, and she didn't feel hungry for popcorn anymore.

The movie started with a bombastic soundtrack that included whip-lash effects, and as she looked up at the screen, she saw a handsome outlaw with long brown hair. He was better-looking than the stars of any of the Westerns she'd seen, and it took her a few moments to realize that he wasn't an actor at all—he was Carter, dressed as a cowboy with a dusty black hat on his head. He was on the back of his palomino, under a gnarled tree in the middle of the desert with his head hung low and a noose around his neck. His hands were tied behind his back.

Billie saw that she must have been mistaken about Panzie sitting behind them. He was in the movie too, sitting atop a mule and wearing a ridiculously large white Stetson hat. A polished gold star was pinned to his shirt, and he was reading from a list of charges.

“You are hereby charged with robbery, kidnapping, horse thievery, and general wickedness,” Panzie intoned. His dialogue was badly-dubbed. “In the interest of the public good, you will be hanged by your neck until dead.”

The scene was simply too ludicrous, and Billie burst out laughing. But instead of continuing with the scene, Panzie looked up from the charges and scowled directly at Billie, his eyes dark with rage. Billie was suddenly terrified, but the shrieks of laughter kept coming no matter how much she tried to stifle them.

“I don't think it's nice, you laughin',” Panzie snarled. “This here mule I got, see, he don't appreciate folks laughin'. Gives him the nutty idea that they're laughin' at him. Now apologize.”

Billie's laughter ended sharply. She had never seen Panzie so angry and she tried to apologize, but no matter how much she opened and closed her mouth, no sounds would come out. She turned to Samantha for comfort, but instead, Carlito was sitting next to her with eyes that were both sad and accusing.

“There are two kinds of women in this world, gringo,” he said, cleaning a shot glass with a rag and shaking his head. “Those who are hostages, and those who are accomplices.”

Then suddenly it was Billie up on the screen, sitting on her pinto under the tree with her hands tied and a length of rope around her sunburned neck. She turned and saw that Carter was hanging from the branch next to her. His horse was gone. Carter looked like he'd been dead for a while, and flies were buzzing in his eyes.

Billie faced forward, ready to beg Panzie to let her go instead of punishing her for not wanting him the way he'd always wanted her. But Panzie was gone, and the rattlesnake was coiled in front of her horse, flicking its tail.

“You ain't comin' across the border with us,” the snake said, the last word extending in a sibilant hiss.

Then the rattler bared its fangs and lunged for the pinto's front legs. The horse jerked with a frightened whinny and Billie felt herself start to slip off its back, the noose tightening around her neck.

Chapter 22

Billie

Billie woke up to find Carter shaking her roughly. He'd already put on his t-shirt and vest, and his saddlebag was slung over his shoulder.

“Come on,” he said. “We need to get the fuck out of here right now.”

She rubbed her eyes. She'd never been good at waking up quickly, and the bizarre nightmare had left her mind feeling fuzzy. “Why? What's going on?”

“The people who left all this stuff in the shack grow and sell pot.” He pointed to an area in the corner. “Look.”

Billie peered across the room and immediately saw the pried-up boards and stacked blocks of weed.

“Holy shit,” she said.

“We're probably right at the edge of their fields,” Carter hissed urgently. “It looks like this is where they package and store the stuff, probably daily. Which means they could show up anytime. We can't be here when they do.”

Billie hopped up from the bed, and Carter opened the door. But before they could leave, they heard the sound of two loud engines growing closer. The noises startled the horses, who whinnied and reared up.

“Fuck,” Carter growled. “Too late. We'll never outrun them on those horses.”

“How many bullets do you have in those guns?” Billie asked.

Carter produced both guns, checking them. “My gun's got one left, but I have an extra clip for it. The revolver I grabbed from the bank guard is down to two rounds, though, with nothing to reload it.”

“Maybe it's still more than they've got,” Billie suggested hopefully.

“Fingers crossed,” Carter said. He replaced the clip in his own gun and handed the revolver to her. “Let's get inside.”

They slammed the door behind them just as the engines approached the shack. Billie knelt down and snuck a peek through one of the broken windows. She saw three young Native American men pull up on ATVs.

As they dismounted their vehicles, Billie saw that each of them had a pump-action shotgun strapped to his back.

“Looks like we're probably not going to win this one with bullets,” Carter commented from behind her. He'd been looking out over her shoulder.

“Whoever you assholes are,” one of the Native Americans called out, “you're trespassing on a Taysha Indian reservation.” As he said this, he gestured to one of his companions, who went around to the back of the shack.

Goddamn it, Carter thought. So much for slipping out that way. Not that we'd have gotten far anyway.

“Bullshit!” Billie blurted out. “The reservation border's almost a mile from here.”

“Well, maybe it is and maybe it isn't,” the man said. “But either way, you've got about ten seconds to come out the front door with your hands up. You do that, we can call up the local cops to settle this little territorial misunderstanding for us peacefully. You don't, we'll be within our legal rights to come in there shooting. Either suits me fine, but I hope you'll go with the first option. I borrowed that fridge in there from my uncle, and I'd rather not put holes in it if I can help it.”

“We both know what you've got stashed in here,” Carter said. “Which means we both know that if my friend and I come out there, you won't be calling up any cops to deal with us. In fact, I'm betting you'll shoot us both in the head and bury us out here so we won't call the cops on you. Am I right?”

“Five seconds,” the man replied.

“Look, no one needs to die here today, okay?” Carter insisted. “I robbed a bunch of banks between here and Alabama. Maybe you saw it on the news? We're on the run from the cops too, so believe me, the last thing we'd want to do is get them involved. Just let us take our horses and go, and I promise no one will hear about your operation from us. All right? Do we have a deal?”

There was a long pause. For a moment, Billie thought it might work.

Then the man said, “Sure. Of course. Because that's what we do, you know? We believe white people when they come onto our land and make promises, and we make deals with them. That's always worked out so well for us in the past.

“Your time is up, by the way,” he added, “so here's my deal for you: Come out of there now so we can end this quickly, or we'll come in there and make it last.”

Chapter 23

Carter

Carter looked around the cabin's interior, trying to think of some way to get them both out of this alive. They were hopelessly outgunned if the men decided to force their way in, and even if they could somehow make it to the horses, they'd still be dead meat when the ATVs came after them. For them to live through this, they'd need to buy some time and figure out a way to make a deal, and the guys with guns didn't seem inclined to talk.

Unless...

“So, you seem pretty eager to collect some scalps today, huh, chief?” Carter called out.

Billie elbowed him hard in the ribs, giving him a “What the fuck?” expression. He held out a hand for her to be patient, then pointed to the gas can and the packages of weed. Her eyes widened and she smiled, creeping over to the can as the man answered.

“First of all, I ain't no chief,” the man said. “So calling me that is racist as fuck. Second, despite what those bullshit movies would have you believe, the Indians weren't originally in the habit of scalping. We learned that from the white cavalry officers and bounty hunters who were paid by the number of Indian scalps they returned with.”

Billie opened the gas can and tilted it over the bricks of marijuana, looking at Carter questioningly. He nodded and she started to pour the fuel out.

“And third,” the man finished, “if you think stalling is going to save your ass, you can think again.”

“Yeah, I'm sure sorry about that,” Carter retorted. “I guess that was a pretty obvious move. But to be fair, we just needed a few extra seconds so we could slosh all this gasoline around the cabin.” By now, the plastic-wrapped bricks were thoroughly doused and Billie was tossing more of the gas around the room.

“Save a little bit of it,” Carter whispered. “We'll need some on our way out.”

“Fuck you,” the man outside said. “You're bluffing.”

“The weed looks like it's wrapped tight enough that the gas won't get down into it,” Carter said. “Which means so far, it should still be fine to sell. But once those flames start up, hoo boy...I'd give it about twenty or thirty seconds before it's all burned to hell. Another thirty before the rest of the cabin goes up.”

“You must think I'm stupid,” No Chief countered. “If you light the place up, you'll both die too.”

“We come out, we die,” Carter shrugged. “You come in, we die. If we're going to croak anyway, I figure we may as well go out with our lungs full of pot smoke. All these outcomes are the same to us, but for you, it'll mean losing about...well, let's see. A brick's about a pound, so sixteen ounces at about three hundred per ounce is...?” He frowned, looking at Billie.

“Almost five thou per brick,” she chimed in.

“And we're looking at, what, about two dozen bricks here?” Carter continued. “So that's, wow, over a hundred thousand up in smoke. If I were you, I'd be trying pretty fucking hard to hear another way out of this situation.”

No Chief sighed. “And I suppose you have a perfect solution to offer me?”

“We sure do,” Carter said. “You let us both go, and you toss us the keys to one of those sweet-looking ATVs. In return, not only do you get to keep your cabin and your weed, we'll even throw in those two horses outside. How about that?”

No Chief laughed incredulously. “First all that scalping shit, and now you think I want to trade for your fucking horses? You really have seen too many movies, you insulting paleface cocksucker. What's next? Are you going to offer me some beads or something?”

“I don't have any beads,” Carter said. “And I didn't mean any insult. We stole those horses from the Tiller farm. I'm guessing you've heard of it?”

“Sure,” No Chief said. “Best animals in the state, or so they say.”

“Best animals in about three or four states, according to the 4-H judges,” Billie said. “Those ATVs probably cost you, what, five hundred? You could get two grand for each of those horses easily if you sold them. Or you could keep them, or even return them to Old Man Tiller for a reward if you want. Either way, you'll be getting a lot more than one of those shitty four-wheelers is worth, that's for sure.”

“Well, shit,” No Chief grunted. “I guess you've got me over a barrel. Fine, come on out and I'll hand over the keys.”

“Good,” Carter said. “Thank you. You've made a wise decision today.”

He walked over to the bricks of pot, picking one up. Then he took the gas can from Billie and started to dribble it in a line across the floor until they'd both reached the door. “Stay close,” he told her. “We're not out of this yet.”

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a disposable lighter.

“Why do you have that?” Billie asked. “I've never seen you smoke.”

Carter favored her with a roguish grin. “I don't. But sometimes, when a cute girl needs a light for her cigarette...”

“That's corny as fuck,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he admitted, “but you'd be amazed at how often it's worked.”

They stepped out of the cabin, Billie clinging to Carter's side as he held the lighter under the brick of weed. No Chief and the Native American next to him had their shotguns aimed at them.

“Hey, now,” Carter chided them. “Shouldn't one of you have a set of keys in his hand?”

“What's all this?” No Chief asked, gesturing to the brick in Carter's hand.

“This?” Carter asked innocently. “This is just a friendly reminder that only you can prevent forest fires. You even twitch, and I'll light this sucker and toss it into the cabin. Now lower that gun, reach for the keys, and toss them to the woman standing next to me.”

No Chief hesitated for a moment, then slung the shotgun over his shoulder and yanked a set of keys out of his pocket. He slid one of the keys off the ring and tossed it to Billie. She fumbled it for a moment but managed to hang onto it.

“Thank you,” Carter said. “Pleasure doing business with you. I have to admit, I've never been in a Mexican stand-off with an Indian before.”

“You're welcome,” No Chief said evenly. “I'm sure I don't have to tell you that if either of you ever come anywhere near Taysha lands again, we'll stake you out over a fucking ant hill and call it self-defense.”

“Sounds fair,” Billie agreed. “Which of these rides is ours?”

No Chief jerked his thumb toward one of the ATVs. Carter climbed on, rested the brick of weed on the narrow dashboard, and started the engine. Billie got on behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist.

“What about that brick you're carrying?” No Chief yelled.

“Call it a tax,” Billie called back.

“I told you before, you're on a goddamn reservation,” said No Chief. “We ain't big on taxes around here.”

“And she told you before, the Taysha reservation's a mile that way,” Carter replied, jerking a thumb in front of him.

Laughing, they sped away on the ATV with shotgun blasts hitting the trees and bushes around them, and shrapnel from the wood and bark pelting their hair.

Chapter 24

Carter

“At this rate, we'll probably hit that desert again in a few minutes,” Carter said, raising his voice over the loud engine. “Do you have any idea what direction we should be going in?”

“Sure,” Billie answered. As she leaned in closer to him and spoke directly into his ear, the feeling of her warm breath against his neck sent a shiver down his spine, and he realized that he was stiffening in his jeans.

“Take a left when we get to the edge of the woods,” she continued. “After about forty minutes, we should run into Clay Allison Road. That'll take us around the edge of Caddo Corners and toward the border. Should we stop to grab another car soon? I mean, I know those Taysha back there won't be reporting this thing stolen or anything, but it's not like we can keep buzzing around on it without attracting attention.”

“Very true,” Carter said, shifting in his seat. He was suddenly conscious of her hands pressed against his midsection and her breasts against his back. The feeling made him wish they were both on his motorcycle and he felt a pang of longing, knowing he'd never see his beloved bike again. “You know the area. Are there any good places for us to boost a new ride?”

“Well, I haven't been around here in a long time,” Billie mused. “But the last time I was, there was an outlet mall with a pretty big parking lot. We could try for that.”

“Sounds good,” he said.

Once they'd finished riding up the edge of the woods, they continued for another twenty minutes on the narrow country road until Billie pointed to an intersecting highway. “The mall's about a half mile down that way.”

“Cool,” said Carter. “We should probably leave this thing by the side of the road and go the rest of the way on foot. Otherwise, people are bound to notice us.”

Carter stuffed the brick of pot into his bag and they left the ATV at the crossroads, shielding the sun from their eyes as they walked. Carter felt the sunburn on his cheeks heating up again and glanced over at Billie. She seemed fine, but he knew the sun's rays were probably hurting her too.

“Now that we're back in civilization,” Carter suggested, “maybe we should think about stocking up on a few essentials before we get a car.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like for starters, a tube of lotion to treat that sunburn of yours. And mine, too,” he added quickly. “Also some new clothes, while we're at it, to make both of us look a little less conspicuous.”

“But wouldn't it be a risk for us to go inside and buy stuff?” Billie pointed out.

“It would,” he agreed. “But the longer we keep walking around with me looking like a biker and you looking like...well, you, the riskier things are going to get for us. This might be our last chance to pick up new duds for a while.”

“I guess you're right,” she said. “I'm assuming you've got the loot from your bank robberies stashed in your saddlebag?”

“My shares from the first four, anyway,” said Carter. “We didn't really have a chance to split the cash from the Cactus Hollow job, not with Hazmat having a fucking conniption and threatening to kill you.”

Billie's jaw dropped and she gaped at him. “That's Yorick's real name? Fucking Hazmat?”

Carter kicked himself inwardly. He couldn't believe he'd let Hazmat's name slip like that. Still, he'd already told her his own name, so he figured it didn't matter much at this point. If she ever did end up telling the cops who he was, they'd probably be able to figure out who his companions were anyway based on the known associates listed on his rap sheet.

“Heh. Yep, that's his name, all right,” Carter admitted. “Not the one on his birth certificate, of course, but it's what everyone's always called him since I've known him.”

“'Hazmat' like hazardous materials?” she asked. “That might be the dumbest fucking nickname I've ever heard. How did he get it?”

“He loved to tell a bunch of different stories whenever the younger guys asked him that,” Carter said. “Usually, he'd say it was because of his temper, on account of how he could split open and unleash it at any time like a flood of deadly chemicals. One time, he even claimed it was because he'd been a stunt rider and he once jumped his bike over four hazmat trucks. But the president of our last MC once told me that the real reason he was called that was because of how he used to get so drunk he'd puke, piss, and shit all over himself.”

Billie laughed. “Seriously?”

“That's what I heard,” Carter chuckled. “When he'd pass out and prospects tried to move him, the older guys would say, 'Caution! Hazmat! Don't get any on you.'”

“He'd have been better off with Yorick,” she said. “So as long as I already know your name and Hazmat's too, how about the third musketeer?”

“Oiler,” he replied. “Which isn't nearly as bad as Hazmat.”

“Like the old Oilers football team from Houston?” Billie asked. “Is that where he's from or something?”

“Nah, it's because he's good at smoothing things over when shit's about to get confrontational,” Carter said. “A lot of guys in our line of work get off on escalating things for no reason, but Oiler has a knack for chilling people out. You know, like 'oil over troubled waters.'”

“Sounds like a useful guy to have around,” she said.

“Both of them can be,” he answered. “Depending on the situation. Anyway, if you're still around when we meet up with them again, don't bring up the whole name thing with Hazmat. He's pissed off at you already.”

“If I'm still around?” Billie asked, grinning. “I figured that would be up to you.”

“Maybe it is,” Carter said. “Maybe I just haven't decided yet. Looks like we're here.”

Sure enough, they had reached the edge of the massive parking lot. It was surrounded on three sides by colorful stores with eye-catching posters advertising huge sales.

“Here, give me some of the cash from your bag,” Billie said. “Smaller bills. And make sure you crumple them up before giving them to me, so they don't look like they came straight from a bank.”

“You're going in alone?”

“Well, I'd better, right?” she said. “If people are looking for me, then they're probably looking for some badass outlaw to be standing right behind me, holding me hostage. If I'm alone, it's less likely they'll think it's really me and report anything to the cops. Besides, it'll give you a chance to figure out which car we should grab and switch out the license plates. You should probably lift a couple of extra plates, too, so we can throw off anyone who's looking for the car without having to steal a bunch more of them.”

“You're getting to be a pretty sharp outlaw,” Carter said uneasily. “Seems like you've thought of everything.”

Billie rolled her eyes. “You don't honestly believe I'll just walk in and call the cops on you or something, do you? After everything we've been through so far? If I really wanted to get away so badly, I could have made a run for it last night while you were asleep.”

Carter had to admit that she had a point. “All right,” he said. He reached into his saddlebag, peeled a few twenties from a bundle of bills, and crinkled them thoroughly. “Will that work?”

“It should,” she replied. “Keep an eye out for me coming out of the mall, so you can wave to me or something and let me know which car to go to.”

And with that, she turned and walked toward the shops.

Chapter 25

Billie

Billie walked the aisles of a discount department store, doing her best to hurry while looking casual. She realized she should have asked Carter what sizes he wore, but as it was, she'd just have to make her best guess.

She grabbed a pair of cargo shorts from a rack, then flipped through a pile of t-shirts until she found a nondescript gray one. As an afterthought, she yanked a pair of cheap flip-flops from a display.

Can't have him wearing those boots with shorts, she thought. He'd look ridiculous. This way, he'll just look like a slacker college dude instead of a biker.

An incredibly hot slacker college dude, she thought with a smile. Even though she knew these clothes would take away from Carter's outlaw look, the thought of his broad shoulders filling out the shirt still made her stomach flutter with desire.

And how was it that just being with him made her feel stronger and safer?

As she picked out a cheap sundress and a wide-brimmed hat for herself, she considered what Carter had said outside about how long they'd be traveling together. Even though he'd referred to her as a hostage the previous night, it was clear that he didn't really think of her as one. Otherwise, he'd never have allowed her to come in here alone.

So why did he still have her with him? And how long did he intend to keep her around?

Granted, if he did turn her loose, he'd still have to worry about her talking to the police. Since she'd grown to like him so much, she was rooting for him to reach Mexico and get away with the money, so she had no intention of cooperating with the authorities when they finally caught up to her—but she could still understand why he wouldn't necessarily believe that.

Still, he clearly wasn't going to kill her, either. And he was already talking about bringing her to the rendezvous with Hazmat and Oiler.

Would he take her all the way to the border? Maybe even past it?

And for that matter, did she even want to go home again?

After the tense scene at the cabin earlier, Billie knew that she should have been scared straight, eager to return to the safety and familiarity of Cactus Hollow. But she'd survived and kept her head together, and she found that the experience hadn't shaken her up all that much. If anything, it had shown her what she was made of and convinced her that she needed to spend more time outside of her comfort zone, braving danger and the unknown.

Maybe she could keep tagging along with Carter and the other bikers and prove herself useful to them in whatever scenario they set up for themselves south of the border. Sure, Hazmat had done a lot of barking last time, but Carter could clearly keep him from biting when it came down to it. He could convince them to let her ride along with their gang, couldn't he?

If he wanted to, of course. Which, for all she knew, he didn't.

She went to the seasonal aisle and selected a tube of sunburn lotion with aloe vera and lidocaine. Then she walked over to the men's grooming section for battery-powered clippers. The way she saw it, if they were going to avoid scrutiny, they'd both need new hairstyles. He probably wouldn't love that idea, but...

Suddenly, Billie noticed that a morbidly obese woman with a shopping cart was staring at her. Three small children stood around her ankles, whining and babbling at her incoherently.

“Ain't I seen you somewheres?” the woman asked. “Like on the TV?”

“Sure,” Billie answered. “I do commercials sometimes.”

“Fer what?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Billie stalled, trying to think. “Tampons, douches. If it's something for your vagina, chances are I've probably shilled for it at some point. Excuse me.”

She walked over to the counter quickly, cursing herself for not being able to come up with anything more plausible. Tampons? Douches? Jesus Christ. So much for not drawing attention to herself.

Billie paid for her purchases quickly and left. As she did, she could still feel the fat lady's eyes on her, and she could swear she heard her whispering to the clerk.

Chapter 26

Billie

When Billie left the store, she looked out across the parking lot and saw Carter waving to her. He was standing next to a faded green Chevy convertible from the mid-'90s. Its engine was already purring. She walked over to him with the shopping bags.

“Another oldie-but-goodie, huh?” she said, eyeing the car.

“Always best to go for the older models,” Carter said. “The newer ones are damn near impossible to hotwire because of all the computer systems in them, plus almost all of them have locators and other security shit to worry about. And besides, cops don't usually make finding these beaters as much of a high priority, which can buy us a few hours or maybe even a whole day.”

“Hey, I'm learning something new every day,” Billie chirped happily, getting into the passenger's seat. “I got us some new clothes. It's not Armani, but at least we probably won't look as much like a biker and a hostage. Should we change into them now?”

“Nah, we can wait until we're about to check into a motel for the night,” Carter answered. He tossed his saddlebag in the back seat and situated himself behind the wheel. “I figure we're far enough from the dragnet the cops have set up, so getting a proper room should be pretty safe.”

“Are you sure?” she asked as they pulled out of the parking lot and started down the highway. “I mean, motels are okay and all, but it sounded like those Taysha were really eager to have us stay with them again. We could pack a big bong, maybe hit the casino...”

“Smart ass,” Carter smirked. Looking at his smile, Billie remembered when he'd walked over to her at the saloon to flirt with her, and she found herself getting wet for him all over again.

“So, how does it feel?” he continued.

“What?” she asked, caught off-guard.

“Well, you drove a getaway vehicle after a bank robbery, you've helped steal cars, you've been in a stand-off with heavily-armed drug dealers,” Carter pointed out. “How does it feel to go from barmaid to stone-cold outlaw in less than two days?”

This reminded Billie of the dream she had last night, and she shuddered in spite of the heat inside the car. He was right, wasn't he? She'd come much too far and made too many decisions for herself to still be considered a helpless victim of circumstance. She had little doubt that if she genuinely wanted to leave Carter at this point, he'd let her.

But she didn't want to leave him now, and she wasn't sure she ever would.

So what did that make her? His willing accomplice. His partner in crime. Maybe Panzie and the other cops would still give her the benefit of the doubt if they caught up to them—a thought which upset her now, even though she'd initially thought it inevitable—but even if they did, she'd still know the truth. How could she just plead innocence and go back to her old life?

Now that she knew what she had inside her, how could she deny it instead of embracing it and seeing where it took her, no matter how dangerous that might be? Hadn't she taken the first few steps toward it already?

“I didn't freak you out by asking that, did I?” Carter asked.

Billie realized she'd been silent for several moments. She shook her head, forcing a laugh. “Nope. I was just thinking about it. Sure, I was your getaway driver, but I was still technically a hostage then. And stealing cars, well, any thirteen-year-old punk with a wire hanger can do that. I'll admit, the stand-off with the Taysha was totally badass and I feel like an action hero now, but...”

“But what?” Carter asked, raising an eyebrow.

“But I'm still not much of an outlaw, am I?” she prodded. “I still haven't done what you do, busting into a place with a gun and robbing it.”

“Is that really something you'd want to do?” he replied incredulously.

“I'll bet it makes you feel powerful, right? I'll bet it's the ultimate thrill.”

“Oh, yeah, it's the biggest rush you'll ever experience,” Carter admitted. “There's nothing in the world like it. Completely taking control of the room from the very first second, taking whatever you want and seeing the fear in people's eyes knowing there's nothing they can do to stop you. When everything goes like it's supposed to, those few minutes are better than any drug you could ever take. They're better than sex. You feel like you're God.”

“Wow,” Billie sighed. She could feel her nipples getting hard just from his description of it. She knew that she had to experience it for herself. “Show me.”

Carter barked out a surprised laugh. “What the fuck do you mean, show you? What, you want to stop someplace and rob it, just like that?”

“Why not?” she retorted. “You've got plenty of experience, so it seems like you'd be the perfect one to show me how it's done. And it's not like we'd have to hit another bank, or anything that risky. We could do, like, some little convenience store or a diner or something.”

He looked at her with wide eyes, his smile fading. “Holy shit. You're actually serious about this, aren't you?”

“Yes, I'm serious. I want to do this with you. I think it'll be fun. What, you don't think I can do it?”

“It's a fucking felony,” Carter said. “Whether you can do it or not, why the hell would you want to? You're not a criminal.”

Billie frowned. “But you just said—”

“Yeah, I was kidding, okay? I was breaking your balls with the whole 'outlaw' thing. Jesus, would you really want to become an armed robber on a goddamn dare?”

Billie favored him with a big grin and a wink. “I've done lots of stuff on dares,” she said.

“And what happens when the lawmen catch up to us? You wouldn't be able to claim you were my hostage anymore. They'd lock you up too. Is it really worth that?”

“First of all, I happen to think that as long as we put our heads together, we can make sure they don't catch up to us,” Billie said. “We seem to be doing a hell of a job with that so far. Second, if robbing a place really feels as good as you say it does, then fuck yeah, it's absolutely worth it to me. And third, no one will even have to know it was us, will they? Not if we wear masks when we do it.”

“I've only got one mask,” said Carter.

“Come on, you don't have anything else we could use for another mask?” Billie pleaded. “I could wear the ski mask to hide my hair, and we could tie your t-shirt around your face so it covers your nose and mouth. Why wouldn't that work?”

Carter pulled up his t-shirt, revealing the numerous tattoos on his torso. As he did, Billie couldn't help but admire his muscles again.

“See these?” he asked. “All on file with law enforcement. My ink gets caught on any cameras, they'll be able ID me more easily than if they'd seen my face.”

Billie let out a frustrated sigh. After a moment, she reached into the back seat and grabbed the saddlebag.

“Hey, what are you doing with that?” Carter snapped.

“I'm sure there's something in here that we could use, if we get a little creative,” Billie said, unzipping the bag and rummaging inside. She slid the brick of pot and bundles of cash aside.

“Stop that!” He tried to snatch the bag away from her with one hand as he kept steering with the other, but she twisted and turned in her seat, keeping it away from him.

“What's the big deal?” she laughed. “If you've got porno mags in here or something, don't worry. I won't be shocked. Ah, here we go!” She produced a green bandana. “We can tie this onto you.”

As she moved to return the bag to the back seat, she spotted something else inside it and pulled it out. It was a patch—the kind that members of motorcycle clubs usually had sewn onto the backs of their vests. The lettering said “Metal Monsters MC,” and it framed a hideous robot face with red eyes and bloody gears for teeth.

“What's this?” she asked, examining it.

“Oiler came up with it,” Carter said quietly. “The name, the picture, everything. It was going to be the patch when we founded our own MC, after pulling the bank jobs. We were going to set up in some small town on the West Coast. We were finally going to have something that was ours, y'know? We were going to be free to do things our own way.”

Billie heard the sadness in his voice and felt a twinge of guilt. It sounded like this had been his dream, his big chance at freedom, and now...

“I guess holing up in Mexico for a while kind of fucks your plans up, huh? Because of me. Because you were worried I'd give the cops your descriptions.”

“Yeah,” said Carter.

“I really wouldn't, you know. You guys could still go ahead with your original plan.”

“The thing is, I want to believe that,” Carter said. “And I even think I almost can. But you've got to understand, Hazmat...well, he ain't the trusting type. You saw what he's like. And Oiler, shit, he's so scared of going back to prison that he wouldn't be willing to take any chance that could lead to that. So there's just no way they'd go for it. I mean, fuck, I still don't know how I'm supposed to show up with you, after what Hazmat said before. So far, I haven't had any bright ideas about how to drop you off before I get there. Or maybe I just haven't been thinking about it hard enough,” he said with a grumble.

Billie beamed at him. “See? I knew you liked having me around too much to really get rid of me! And listen, I think I've got the perfect solution to all of this.”

Carter chuckled. “That'd be a neat trick.”

“Hear me out,” she insisted. “They're worried I'll give you all up to the cops, right? But what if I couldn't? What if they had hard evidence in their possession that would implicate me in a crime, so they knew that if I gave them up, they'd give me up too?”

“Go on,” Carter prompted warily.

“We rob a place,” Billie continued. “And I use this gun you gave me, which has my prints all over it now. I can even fire a bullet into a wall or the ceiling or something, to leave evidence proving it was this gun. Then Hazmat and Oiler can hang onto the gun and turn it over to the cops if I ever double-cross them, which I obviously won't. See? Then they've got a reason to trust me.”

And maybe even keep me around, Billie thought to herself. But one thing at a time.

Carter thought it over. “Maybe it's worth a shot. But come on, seriously—why the fuck are you so eager to rob someplace?”

“You said it was better than sex,” Billie countered. “Maybe I just want to see how it feels to have better-than-sex with you.”

He considered this for a moment, then laughed.

“All right,” he said. “If that's what you want, then that's what we'll do.”

Chapter 27

Carter

As they drove down the highway, Carter was still having a difficult time believing he was going along with this. It seemed insane that someone who was a regular citizen the day before yesterday was suddenly so desperate to commit a felony.

But did it really?

He thought back to when he'd gotten out of the Army and decided to join the Hobgoblins. The life of freedom and adventure had appealed to him, and he'd known that the skills the military had taught him would be assets. Had he been upset by the thought of the crimes that would naturally accompany such a life?

No, he realized, he hadn't. He'd accepted that part of it quite easily. Iraq had made him comfortable with violence, and when he engaged in it on behalf of the Hobgoblins, it was always necessary—never random or unprovoked, never aimed at anyone who was some blameless citizen. Selling drugs and running guns hadn't bothered him, either. People would always want those things, he reasoned, so he may as well be the one to supply them and profit from them. And as for the robberies, the banks and stores he hit were generally insured, and no one got hurt.

The more he considered it, the more he understood that when the time had come all those years ago, he'd stepped across the line from civilian to criminal with hardly any hesitation at all. It had seemed a small price to pay to abandon a former life he'd never really felt like he'd belonged to anyway and become part of a group who looked out for each other.

So who was he to judge Billie for making that same choice? Maybe she wasn't just some bored thrill-seeker out for a joyride with an outlaw. Maybe she truly felt the need to leave her old self behind and find a new one instead.

“What about there?” Billie asked, pointing out the windshield at a liquor store.

“No good,” he said, shaking his head. “Liquor stores are too risky. They get robbed a lot, so there are always lots of security measures in place, and the clerks are generally armed to the teeth. Also, see how the window is covered up with all those posters and signs? That means we won't be able to scope it out from a distance first, to see what we'll be dealing with.”

“Okay,” said Billie. “So what kinds of places are we looking for?”

“Well, keep in mind that usually, if you're planning a robbery like this, you'd want to check the place out a few days in advance,” Carter began. It felt strange, explaining this to another person. Most of the guys he'd rolled with already had experience with this stuff. “That would let you figure out who works during which shifts, when the place will be emptiest, all that. But since we can't really do that this time, we need a small store with a big window. It'll let us see how many people are inside and what the layout is.”

“What else?” Billie asked eagerly.

“Our best bet is probably a gas station,” he said. “We shouldn't have to shoot more than once—at the beginning, like you said, to plant the bullet and also to freak them out enough to cooperate. But if there are gas pumps around, it'll make the clerk too nervous to resist. He won't know how crazy or stupid we are, so he won't risk anything that would make us blast off and blow the whole place to hell.”

“There's a gas station over there,” she said, pointing again.

Sure enough, there was a filling station ahead with a tiny convenience store attached to it. There were no cars parked at the pumps, and even though the main window was tinted, it was easy to see inside.

“That could work,” Carter agreed. He pulled the car over to the side of the road across from the station and rolled down his window, looking over at the store. Through the window, he could see an elderly black man behind the counter. He appeared to be the only one there.

“So now what?” she asked. “Should we go for it?”

“Maybe,” he said. “The clerk sure looks like he'd be a pushover. But first, we should hang back to watch the place, so we can see how often people show up. Could be we just caught it during a quiet moment.”

Carter untwisted the wires in the dashboard to kill the engine, so it wouldn't overheat the car or drain the battery. They watched the place for almost forty-five minutes. In all that time, no one stopped at the station. Several times, it looked like the clerk might start dozing off.

“All right, this should do it,” Carter said. “Are you really sure you want to do this? Once you do, there's no turning back.”

“That suits me just fine,” Billie said, grinning. “Here, let me get this bandana tied on you.”

Carter shifted around in his seat and Billie folded the bandana into a triangle, tying the ends behind his head so his nose and mouth were hidden.

“All done,” she said.

“Are you sure?” he asked, gently touching the knot.

“Yeah.”

“It feels kind of loose to me,” he said.

“It's fine,” she insisted. “It'll definitely stay there.” She reached into the saddlebag, pulled out the ski mask, and put it on. “What do you think?”

“You look ready for a weekend in Aspen,” he smirked.

She stuck her tongue out at him through the mouth hole.

“We're going to drive up around the side of the place, then come in fast so he doesn't see our approach,” Carter said. “The second we're through the door, you fire straight up into the ceiling. Then you keep one eye on the rest of the store, and the other eye on the door so you can let me know if anyone's coming. I'll keep my gun on him and get him to hand over the cash. If we do this right, we should be in and out in less than sixty seconds. Any questions?”

Billie shook her head.

“Here we go,” Carter said. He twisted the wires together to start the engine, then drove the car across the street and pulled up next to the store.

Chapter 28

Billie

As soon as the car stopped, they both got out and ran to the door of the store, throwing it open. The clerk's bushy white eyebrows jerked up so far they almost reached his hairline. Billie raised her revolver and fired into the ceiling, the sound of the gunshot smacking against her ears like a pair of heavy palms. A thin dusting of plaster drifted down onto her ski mask.

“Keep your fucking hands where I can see them,” Carter yelled. “Empty out the register into a paper bag, and no one needs to get hurt.”

“Okay, son,” the clerk said, popping the register open. “Just stay calm. I ain't gonna give you no trouble.” He tossed the bills into a paper bag, handing it over to Carter.

Billie couldn't take her eyes off Carter as he kept his gun pointed at the clerk. Every muscle in his body seemed tense, electrified. His eyes were blazing above his bandana. The air around him crackled with intensity, and he embodied every cowboy fantasy Billie'd ever had. She felt like tackling him to the ground and making love to him right there.

He'd been right about this. There was so much power in seizing control of a room and everyone in it, forcing them to do her bidding like some kind of hypnotist. She'd never felt so alive before.

Suddenly, Carter's bandana seemed to blink out of existence. Billie squinted, unable to believe her eyes. One second his features were covered, and the next his bare face was exposed.

His hand went up to his face, feeling for the piece of cloth. When he didn't find it, he peered around him, turning.

A ten-year-old black boy was standing behind Carter, holding the bandana he'd snatched off him and staring up at him with wide eyes.

“It ain't Halloween for months yet, mister,” the boy said matter-of-factly. “Everyone knows that.”

Without warning, the clerk snatched Carter's hand, slamming it—and the gun it was holding—down against the counter and pinning it there. Despite his age, his hands were faster than lightning, and from the way Carter was struggling against him, his hands looked like they must be as strong as vise grips.

“Don't you never fuck with no ex-Green Beret,” rumbled the clerk. “Or his grandkid, neither.”

“Thanks, I'll remember that,” Carter said.

He threw the bag full of money directly into the clerk's face. The clerk flinched and jerked backward, allowing Carter to yank his gun free of the man's grip.

Carter grabbed Billie's wrist and yanked her to the door, shoving it open and stumbling out into the parking lot as they ran for the car. There was an echoing boom behind them, and Billie turned to look. The clerk was following them with a shotgun in his hands.

“What are you, some kind of fucking maniac?” Carter yelled to the clerk as he and Billie got into the car. “You're firing when there are gas pumps here?”

“I shut off the pumps,” the clerk called back. “And now I'm fixin' to shut you off, too.”

Billie tasted something like copper on her tongue and realized it was adrenaline. Every muscle in her body felt like it was clenched. She could feel her heart beating in her throat. She wondered if this might be what it felt to be struck by lightning—everything inside of her electrified and on edge.

Yet, she wasn't frightened.

The clerk fired once more as the Chevy leaped forward, hitting the highway and accelerating. The bullet hit the rear windshield, shattering it so they could see the clerk enveloped in their cloud of dust. The boy stood next to him, waving goodbye.

Chapter 29

Billie

Once the old Chevy took them far enough away from the scene of the botched robbery, Carter and Billie left it at the edge of a wooded area so the destroyed rear window wouldn't call attention to them. Carter gathered up his saddlebag and the rest of their items from the car.

“Maybe we should wipe down the interior? Like, to get rid of any prints?” she suggested.

Carter gave her a withering look and walked off into the woods without answering.

Billie rushed to keep up with him. There were lots of cacti standing like mute witnesses, plus sawgrass and scrub brush to trudge through.

After they'd walked for a couple of hours, she asked, “Do you know where we're headed?”

He kept marching forward silently.

“Okay,” she huffed. “I know I fucked up, all right? I was supposed to be watching the rest of the store, and I got distracted. You can't tell me you never had any kind of learning curve when you started doing this stuff.”

Carter let out a growl as he trudged through the dead leaves and underbrush.

“Fine,” she continued. “You're pissed, you don't feel like talking, whatever. But we should probably change into our new clothes and use the clippers on our hair before we hit someplace with people.”

He stopped in his tracks and threw the bags down on the ground. Then he kicked off his boots and started yanking his clothes off angrily, rummaging in the bags for his new ones. Billie stood frozen, her eyes glued to Carter's body as he stripped down to his underwear.

Carter saw her watching and reached into the shopping bags again, tossing the sundress and hat at her.

“Are you going to stand there and watch the show, or are you going to put your fucking clothes on?” he snapped. “This was your goddamn idea.”

Billie picked up the sundress. “Hey, at least you're speaking to me again. Should I change behind some bushes, or...?”

Carter scowled at her.

“Okay, okay,” she said, taking her shirt off and wriggling out of her jeans. Before she put on the dress, she stole a glance over at him to see if he was peeking. But he was sitting on a stump with his back to her.

She felt a pang of disappointment. She knew he was attracted to her too, but if he was refusing to indulge that with even a quick look at her in her undies, she figured he was even more upset than he seemed.

Billie unwrapped the clippers. They came with a pair of batteries, and she snapped them in place, hitting the switch. The clippers buzzed and she walked over to Carter sheepishly.

“It's a shame to have to cut such beautiful long hair,” she said.

He didn't answer.

She used the clippers carefully, cutting his mane short and evening out the sides and back. When she was done, she shook out the excess strands of brown hair and handed the device to him. “You should probably run this over your face, too.”

Carter gave himself a quick shave. Now that he was short-haired and clean-faced, he almost looked like a different person. He was still handsome, but he looked a lot more tame, like some once-wild dude who'd since gone to AA and found Jesus or something.

“Your turn,” Carter grunted. He stood up and brushed the hair off the stump, gesturing for her to sit.

“Have you ever, uh, cut a woman's hair before?” Billie asked nervously as she sat down.

He ignored her again, and the clippers connected with her hair a moment later, shearing off her long locks until she could feel air on the back of her neck.

Well, no matter how I look, at least I'll look different, she told herself. And that's the whole point, right?

But it didn't dull the anxiety she felt, knowing that a very angry man was cutting her hair.

When he was finished, Billie looked down at her long auburn hair in heaps on the ground. “Thanks,” she said. “Are we still planning to find a motel for the night, or...?”

Carter snatched the bags from the ground and started walking again. Billie rolled her eyes and followed him.

After another hour, they came out the other side of the woods and a found a small area just off the highway with a handful of motels and cheap restaurants. Carter avoided all of the major chains in favor of a tiny, grubby-looking dump called The Dreamland Motor Lodge. The few letters still clinging to its sign boasted “A/C” and “Color TV,” and hookers hung out in the parking lot.

“Guess we don't have to worry about them asking for ID or a credit card, huh?” Billie asked.

Carter walked to the motel. Every surface in the lobby seemed brown and sticky, as though coated by years of tobacco smoke. The rough gray seats and couches were covered with stains, and on the blurry television in the corner, an aging D-list celebrity was advertising adult diapers.

The woman behind the counter looked like a huge moldering peach with frizzy red hair. A massive pair of kooky sunglasses hung around her neck. Her name tag said “Kandie.”

“Hour or night?” Kandie asked, looking them over.

“Night,” Carter said flatly.

“Lucky you,” she replied. She flopped a large binder onto the counter and opened it, pointing to the next blank space on a sheet of lined paper. “Fifty bucks. Plus another twenty-five deposit in case you get piss, shit, blood, or vomit on anything. Write a name there. Real, fake, I don't give a dog's asshole.”

Billie saw Carter scrawl “Robert & Marion Morrison.” She noticed that the rows above it were mostly filled with “Smith” and “Jones,” and that most of the first names were “John.”

Carter rooted around in his saddlebag and found the cash, tossing it onto the counter. With a puffy hand, Kandie handed over a key. Her nails were leopard-printed, and each one looked about six inches long. Billie wondered how she went to the bathroom.

“Room Twelve,” she said. “Check-out time's 11. You stay a minute past that, my husband comes in with his sawed-off and God only knows what happens next.”

Carter nodded and started toward the door of the lobby. As Billie followed, the TV switched from the commercial to an ad for the local news. The reporter at the desk was a woman in her thirties with a bouffant hairdo and far too much makeup.

“Don't forget to tune in at six,” the reporter said. “We'll have Marty Breck with the seven-day forecast, plus Coach Gardner from Texas A&M will be joining us to talk about the big game against the Ragin' Cajuns this weekend. We'll also have more hilarious footage from the foiled gas station robbery up near Odessa...”

Carter didn't stop walking, but his pace slowed deliberately as he listened. “Don't look,” he whispered.

Billie kept her eyes forward.

“...as a grandfather in his sixties and his ten-year-old grandson showed a pair of would-be desperadoes why it's not a good idea to mess with Texas. The identity of the Unmasked Marauder is still unknown, but authorities say we should have that information for you by tonight.”

Behind them, Kandie let out a wheezing laugh. “'The Unmasked Marauder! That's a good one. I hope they find 'em and string 'em up with dunce caps on 'em.”

Carter growled, shoving the lobby door open.

Chapter 30

Billie

Carter slammed the bags down on the bed. Billie followed him into the room, shutting the door behind them and wondering when he'd stop acting so fucking cranky.

The room was filthy, with strange scrapes and smears on the walls at odd intervals. The corners were filled with dust and ghostly tangles of hair. The green carpet was the color of baby puke and looked like it hadn't been vacuumed since the '80s. A dead roach was on its back in front of the television set.

Maybe it laughed itself to death watching our little fuck-up on TV, Billie thought sourly.

Carter went into the bathroom and left the door open. Billie saw him looking in the mirror, running his fingers through what was left of his hair and groaning. She followed him in and took a look at herself.

It was...not quite a pixie cut, though it was certainly short enough. It was kind of uneven and spiky in places, and there was one area near her left temple where she saw that he'd gone a little too far with the clippers and almost exposed her scalp. Still, at least it wasn't totally grotesque, and she definitely looked different.

“Not bad for a first attempt,” she said, brushing at it with her fingers and trying to get the unruly strands to stay down. “I wouldn't register you for cosmetology school yet, but all in all…”

Carter shot her a dirty look and pushed past her into the room.

Billie followed, her resentment finally boiling over. “You know what? I'm done with the silent treatment. I already acknowledged that I fucked up bad, and I apologized for it. If you want more apologies, just give me the number that'll satisfy you and I'll say them. I'm not a mind reader and I don't know what the hell else you want from me, so you're just going to have to use your words like a big boy. You want to keep me around? I'm here. You want to cut me loose? Fine, I'm gone. But unless you're planning to give me a fucking spanking, I'm sick of this whole 'disappointed daddy' routine you're so high on right now.”

“Is that what you want?” Carter exploded. His teeth were bared like a cornered animal, and his eyes burned with fury. “You want a fucking spanking?”

“If that'll put this bullshit to rest, then yeah, you're goddamn right I do!” she shot back.

Carter's powerful arms snaked out, grabbing Billie before she even had time to blink. He jerked her toward him and sat down on the edge of the bed, putting her over his knees.

Jesus, is he really going to do this? she thought.

He yanked her dress up and pulled down her panties, and a moment later, she heard a sharp crack as his palm connected with her backside. The pain came a split-second after, sizzling across her skin like butter in a skillet. She grit her teeth, refusing to cry out.

“I had a fucking plan,” he snarled loudly, raising his arm again.

Crack. The pain erupted again, sharper this time.

“Because that's what I fucking do.”

Crack. Another jolt, the other buttock this time, almost like an electric shock that sent spasms up into the small of her back.

“That's why they ride with me, why they depend on me—because I make plans, and backup plans, and backup plans for those.”

Crack, crack, crack. The sensation had pushed her to the point where her ass felt strangely numb and glassy under his hand, the pain seeming to come to her from a great distance, like the light from the stars.

“And every plan I've made, you've fucked up. Just by being in the fucking bar, by yelling to us from outside the bank, by looking like you look and acting like you fucking act so I can't...”

Crack.

“...just...”

Crack.

“...let...”

Crack.

“...you...”

Crack.

“...go!”

The last smack was the cruelest and Billie did cry out this time—not because of the pain, not because no one had ever done this to her before, but because a door of understanding suddenly sprung open in her mind and she finally saw how Carter truly felt about her.

His surly behavior hadn't come from his anger at her for messing up at the gas station. It came from his rage and confusion at his own actions leading up to this, his real reasons for keeping her with him.

He'd made plans on top of plans, and she'd sat next to him and watched him throw them away one by one, all because of her. Because he wanted her.

In that moment, she fell in love with him.

Carter stopped, breathing heavily. Billie rolled her body over to face him and put her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. She kissed him deeply for several seconds, their tongues reaching for each other like long-lost lovers embracing.

Then he wrapped his arms around her thighs and lifted her onto the motel desk, making hard and dirty love to her as the coyote howled and howled outside.

Chapter 31

Panzer

The clock on the wall ticked past 6:00 PM as Panzer watched Harbaugh pace back and forth across the blue-carpeted floor of the Cactus Hollow Sheriff's Office.

Specifically, he kept an eye on Harbaugh's left shoe.

It was the one that had accidentally stepped in horse shit at Old Man Tiller's horse farm the evening before, and even though Harbaugh had scraped it off and tried to clean it—unleashing a steady stream of obscenities while he did so—Panzer could still see a few dried, crusty bits clinging to the edges, and the smell was still awful. He did his best to breathe through his mouth and tried not to consider the unpleasant task of shampooing the carpet once Harbaugh was gone.

Harbaugh had been up all night, and his eyes were bloodshot and baggy. Once he'd confirmed that two horses had been stolen from Tiller, he rode over the desert in a helicopter, expecting to find Billie and the biker dead in the sand with their animals next to them.

When he didn't see them, he went to Caddo Corners and questioned Samantha for almost three hours about whether Billie had been there. Panzer tried to tell him that it wouldn't make any sense for a hostage to lead her captor to her loved ones, but Harbaugh sneered, calling Panzer more names and telling him to “go find a plate of grits to eat while the adults are talking.”

That just left the wooded area nearby to search. But when he ordered agents to do it, Harbaugh came up against the Texas office of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, which claimed that the woods were disputed Taysha territory and refused to permit access. They briefly liaised with the reservation's leaders, who insisted that no outsiders had been seen there in several days.

Needless to say, Harbaugh wasn't happy.

“Injuns,” Harbaugh muttered, shaking his head angrily. “Unbelievable. I chase these bank-robbing cocksuckers across five states, interview dozens of witnesses, spend hours reviewing forensic evidence and get within a few fucking miles of the bastards...only to have all my hard work flushed down the crapper by a bunch of goddamn backwards-ass Injuns.”

“Actually, I'm pretty sure you ain't s'posed to call 'em 'Injuns' no more?” Broyles commented, picking his teeth with a corner of an envelope from the day's mail. “The proper term was, uh, Native American for a while? 'Cept now I think the more politically-correct word is 'indigenous,' though some tribes are still fine with Native Indian? Always seemed weird to me, though, now that we know they was never really from India to start with...”

“Shut your corn-muncher, you useless nimrod,” Harbaugh roared. “I can't even hear myself think.”

Broyles shrugged. “You just stressed, is all. Bad for yer blood pressure an' the like. You oughtta take a minute or two out of the day to relax, maybe watch somethin' that'll make you laugh. Hey, like that video that's been makin' the rounds online, with them two stupid people who tried to rob the gas station earlier today? Had me laughin' fit to spit.”

“Broyles, maybe we should just leave Agent Harbaugh alone,” Panzer suggested. He enjoyed watching Broyles piss off Harbaugh, but he'd already heard enough of the man's insults for the day.

“Naw, he'll get a kick out of it fer sure,” Broyles said, switching on the TV in the office. “It's a real hoot. They said they was gonna have more of it on the news.”

Panzer sighed. If Broyles was so eager to get cussed out again, he reckoned there was nothing he could do about it.

Broyles flipped to the local news as a reporter addressed the audience. “Shortly after two o'clock this afternoon, two people—a man and a woman—entered the Gas-4-U filling station near Odessa and attempted to rob it. But even though they came in wearing masks, the identity of the male robber didn't remain secret for long.”

Panzer watched the screen as a young boy snuck up behind the man in the bandana, yanking it off his face. When Panzer saw the thief's comically surprised expression, he chuckled.

Suddenly, Harbaugh's bony hand clamped down on Panzer's shoulder.

“The woman in the ski mask,” Harbaugh said. “Her height, weight, clothes...they all match our description for Ms. Rosewood.”

Panzer looked at the television again, frowning. “I guess so. Still, could be anybody. Lots of gals are that size, and lots of 'em have that same outfit.”

“Look at the man, though, numbnuts,” Harbaugh insisted. “Study his face carefully, and turn whatever crank it takes to get your brain working. Could that be the biker you saw at the bar, with the long brown hair?”

Panzer looked at the screen more closely and sighed. “Yeah. I reckon it could.”

“She isn't looking much like a hostage these days, is she?” Harbaugh sneered. “Not with the way she's shooting off that gun.”

“That still don't mean she's an accomplice,” Panzer countered. “She could be under duress, or we could be dealin' with brainwashing, some kinda Stockholm Syndrome like that Patty Hearst lady...”

“Save it,” Harbaugh spat, turning to give orders to his other agents. “Get on the phone to the Lubbock PD and the state police barracks. Find out if they have an ID on that man, and get me everything we can dig up on him, especially his known associates. Meanwhile, start circulating his photo in that area along with the woman's, and include variations with different haircuts and styles—if they know they made the news, they've probably already tried to change their appearance.”

He glared up at the TV, which showed a freeze-frame of the unmasked robber.

“I'll have you yet, you slippery son of a bitch,” Harbaugh said.

Chapter 32

Carter

Carter flicked his lighter, gently touching the flame to the crumbled bits of marijuana that rested precariously in the dent of an empty soda can. He inhaled the smoke and held it in, passing the can and the lighter to Billie. She took a puff and coughed hard, almost dropping the can.

“This is decent shit,” Billie managed between gasps.

Carter shrugged, exhaling the smoke smoothly. “Better than Mexican ditch weed. Not as good as what you can get in California.”

After their mind-blowing sex in the motel room, Carter realized that the tension between them had broken. On some level, he had known that a lot of his anger at her wasn't because of her mistake at the gas station. That was boneheaded, sure, but it was her first robbery, and he'd seen other people slip up like that in similar situations.

His desire for her had made the rage build up inside of him—he'd been angry at himself for changing his own plans just so he could keep her with him.

But now that things had come to a head, he knew he couldn't keep up some stupid internal struggle. It was time to make the leap.

He was with her now. Period.

Instead of wasting time and energy fighting it, now he could decide on a firm course of action based on that.

They spent an hour taking turns with the sunburn lotion, rubbing the cool gel on their red faces and arms until there was almost none left. Then they had opened the brick of weed and gotten a can of cola from the motel's vending machine, draining it and punching a hole in the side like Carter had learned back in high school.

Now they were sitting on the bed together with Carter's arm around Billie's shoulders, watching the clouds of smoke lazily drift across the room. The TV was on and they were flipping channels, trying to find a late news show with more footage from their failed robbery.

“Are you sure we should be smoking in the room?” Billie asked.

“Trust me, no one's calling the cops in a shithole like this,” Carter assured her. “Worst-case scenario, they keep the deposit when they smell the smoke. After the fucking day we've had, they're welcome to it.”

“Hey, go back!” Billie said, grabbing the television remote and switching the channel. “I think I saw us again.”

The screen showed more of the security camera footage as they held the clerk at gunpoint.

“A Green Beret,” she snorted. “Can you believe that shit? Guy looked like a stiff breeze would knock him down.”

“See? There's the kid,” Carter said, pointing to the screen. “Look, he's walking right up to me! He wasn't even trying to hide or anything. Jesus, what the hell were you looking at?”

“Hey, I can't help it if you were so sexy I couldn't take my eyes off you,” she said. “Besides, that look on your face when he took your bandana was the funniest thing I've ever seen.” She broke into a fresh fit of giggles, and after a moment, Carter joined her.

“I really am sorry about that,” she finally said, composing herself. “I can't believe I was so stupid. I know I almost got us caught or killed.”

Carter took another drag from the can, blowing a smoke ring. “Don't worry about it. My first robbery, I was third gun on a bank job. They had me collect the money from the tellers and put it in a bag. But instead of watching what I was doing, I was too busy staring out the windows for cops, even though we already had a lookout guy for that. So one of the tellers tossed a blue dye pack in with the cash. As soon as we got to the car, boom. I had that blue shit all over my face and arms for almost two weeks.”

Billie laughed. “Really? That's fun to picture.”

He nodded, smiling. “Yup. Couldn't leave the clubhouse all that time, since after the robbery, everyone in the state was looking for dudes with blue faces. That was pretty fucking embarrassing.”

“I'm surprised they didn't give you some awful nickname from that,” Billie pointed out. “You know, like your guys Hazmat and Oiler. You could have been Blueberry, maybe. Or Smurf!”

Carter chuckled. “Yeah, lots of guys have tried to give me nicknames over the years, but none of them ever stuck. I guess when you come down to it, no one could think of anything dumber-sounding than Carter.”

“So now what?” Billie took another puff and managed not to choke on it this time.

“Now we try to get some sleep,” he said. “I know that's probably easier said than done after all the adrenaline from today, but hopefully the weed should help with that.”

“No, I mean after that. Are we going to meet up with the other guys at that truck stop?”

Carter raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you remember that little detail, huh? At the time, I figured you were probably too scared. We've got a stop to make first, but yeah, we'll meet up with them after that. And they'll kick a little when they see you're still with me, and they'll kick a little more when I tell them you'll be crossing the border with us. But don't worry, I'll set them straight. I'm still their president…I mean, if following us to Mexico is really what you want.”

“Absolutely,” she said without hesitation. “Have you ever been there before?”

“Nah, but I've known guys who went down there to cool off for a while when things went bad. I've got some names and numbers...people to reach out to who will help us get set up.”

“What's it like there? Based on what you've heard.”

Carter snickered, taking another puff from the soda can. “Well, it's hotter than hell, but I guess you probably know that already. Cheap food, cheap booze. Do you speak any Spanish?”

“Not much.”

“It's easy to pick up some of the basics. Most of the cops and judges down there can be bought with half a can of beans, so there's no need to worry about being recognized and extradited. Things have gotten dangerous over the past couple decades since the cartels have basically taken over the whole country, but as long as we hook up with the right one when we get there—pay a little tribute, maybe do a job or two for them as a good-faith gesture—then the other ones should leave us alone.” He looked at her again quizzically. “You're sure that sounds like a life you want?”

“As long as I'm with you and as many miles from Cactus Hollow as possible, then yeah, it sounds kind of perfect,” Billie said. “Besides, we've made a pretty damn good team over the past couple days. I think we can handle whatever comes our way.”

“Fair enough,” Carter said, passing the soda can to her. He didn't know it was possible to find her even sexier, but she'd just proved him wrong. He'd never met anyone so hungry for adventure, and it turned him on.

“So what's this stop we need to make before we rendezvous with Hazmat and Oiler?” she asked, lighting the pot and inhaling.

“There's a guy I know who lives on a patch of desert south of Fort Stockton. He's an old dude...kind of a survivalist type. He was the one who fed me the inside info about the bank in Cactus Hollow so we'd know when to hit it. I promised him I'd pay him a visit after we did the deed, so I could give him his cut from it. Of course, since Hazmat's got the actual cash from that job, I'll need to front it out of what I've got with me. Should be more than enough, though.” Carter finished off the last hit in the can, shaking the ashes out onto the floor.

“I guess we're going to have to steal another car to get down there, huh?” Billie suggested playfully.

“You got it.”

“Can I please choose this time?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

“Sure,” he agreed, smiling. “But now that I don't have to hold a gun on you all the time, I'll keep on doing the driving. Now seriously, we need to get some rest. We've got a big day tomorrow.”

“I'm not tired yet, though,” Billie pouted.

“I might have an idea or two about how we can tucker each other out,” Carter said, reaching over to switch off the light.

Chapter 33

Panzer

Harbaugh sat at Panzer's desk, staring at printouts and photos from three criminal records. The first one had been provided by the Odessa Police Department, based on the footage from the gas station's security cameras. The second and third were the result of Harbaugh grilling Panzer on pictures of the biker's known associates until the sheriff identified two men who might have been his companions in the bar two nights ago.

Jesus, Panzer thought. Only two nights ago. Feels like about a month since all this shit started.

“Winslow, Carter,” Harbaugh mused, flipping through the pages for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Thornvale, Jack, also known as 'Hazmat.' Scudder, Lane, also known as 'Oiler.' Formerly members of the Hobgoblins motorcycle club, now on their own.”

“Are you fixin' to do anything other than sit there, fartin' into my desk chair and mumblin' the same shit over and over?” Panzer asked testily. “Seems to me like the longer you sit there, the farther away that Carter asshole's gettin' with Billie.”

Harbaugh gave Panzer a wolfish smile. “What do you expect me to do, genius? Run around half of Texas in the middle of the night with a flashlight, going door to door and asking if anyone's seen them? No, I've done plenty. I've alerted local law enforcement in every town and county along their route. I called a few people and put a price on their heads. Ten thousand dollars to the man who brings them in or brings them down, I don't care which.”

Panzer's jaw dropped. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?” he yelled. “You'll have every skip tracer, bushwhacker, and bounty hunter from here to the Rio Grande out gunning for them!”

“That's the idea,” Harbaugh said coldly.

“But those crazy shitheads ain't gonna care about Billie's safety like peace officers would,” Panzer insisted. “They're psychos, they're sloppy, and half of 'em are either drunk or on meth. They're liable to shoot holes in her just to take these bikers down!”

“And why should I give a fuck?” Harbaugh asked. “Because you used to pick dandelions and go to the state fair together, or some such baloney? Sheriff, let me tell you a story. I grew up on the south side of Boston. Most of the boys I played with as a kid grew up to be felons. They're all behind bars now, though, and guess who put them there? So stop covering for lawbreakers, or else take off that damn star and give it to someone who can do the job. But either way, I'm going to see these punks dead or in cuffs within the next twenty-four hours, so you'd better stay the hell out of my way.”

Harbaugh got up and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Panzer felt like he'd just had a piano dropped on his head. He picked up the remote control and hit the Play button, watching the security camera footage from the gas station.

Yes, that was definitely Billie. Even with her mask on, Panzer had known her too long not to recognize the way she stood and moved.

And he didn't want to admit it—not even to himself—but yes, based on the way she was acting, it was clear to him that she wasn't a hostage anymore.

On the screen, the ten-year-old approached Carter, but Panzer wasn't watching him this time. He was watching Billie, studying the way she ignored the kid. Behind the holes in her mask, Panzer could clearly see that her eyes were lovesick and locked on the biker.

Same old Billie, he thought. Always going for the bad boys.

He hated the idea of her giving herself to yet another wild and reckless man who was no good for her. He hated her for ignoring common sense and spitting in the face of danger, while the people who really cared about her were worried sick.

But more than that, he hated the thought of her being hurt or worse just because this federal shitbird happened to have a hard-on for the goon she'd hooked up with this time. Maybe she'd made a mistake by laughing off Panzer's love for her all these years. Maybe it was a mistake she'd never make right or apologize for, no matter how much it broke his heart. But it wasn't a mistake she deserved to die for.

Billie, he pleaded silently, I hope you and that biker of yours have a trick or two up your sleeves.

Chapter 34

Billie

The next day, Carter and Billie walked to a big box store that was close to the motel and stole another car. Billie teased him about choosing a hot pink Corvette that would have been about as subtle as a fishing lure, but in the end, they decided on an older Mercedes.

Billie unscrewed the license plates from a few other cars so they could switch them up and keep the cops off-balance, and when she was done, Carter showed her how he hotwired the car so she could do it herself if it came to that.

“This'll be a pretty useful skill in Mexico,” Carter told her with a wink. “The cartel boys are always willing to fork over a few bucks for stolen cars. We probably won't need to, though. Once we meet up with Hazmat and Oiler to split up the shares from all our jobs, we should be able to live pretty well down there.”

They rode for most of the day, singing along to the radio. They only stopped twice—once to get gas and switch out the license plate again, and once to grab some fast food from a drive-through.

As the small towns and highways gave way to desert roads, Billie daydreamed about what it might be like to live in Mexico. She imagined the cool blue waters of the Gulf, Spanish-built cathedrals, adobe homes and haciendas, and dusty street markets filled with colorful characters.

And how long would they be there? Certainly long enough to rub elbows with some of the cartel people, based on what Carter had told her. Probably long enough for her to get a decent tan and pick up some of the language.

Finally, Carter took the car down a narrow side road and drove for another hour until they found a rusty chain-link fence. It seemed to stretch all the way to the horizon.

Carter parked the car next to the fence, cutting the engine. “We'll have to walk from here,” he said. “Don't worry, it shouldn't take more than twenty minutes to get there.”

“Is it safe to leave the car here?” Billie asked.

“Sure. No one ever drives out this way, since most people don't even know there's anything out here. And planes and helicopters tend to steer clear of the air around here, too. Something, uh, tends to fuck with their instruments when they do, ha,” he said with a strange smile.

They walked across a rocky patch of desert for almost half an hour until Billie saw something metal glinting in the distance. “Is that what we're looking for?”

Carter shaded his eyes with his hand, following her gaze. “Yeah, that's it.”

But as they got closer, Billie kept rubbing her eyes, convinced she must be seeing some kind of mirage. The structure they were approaching was a corrugated metal shed that looked roughly the size of a port-a-john.

“You're kidding, right?” she asked. “That thing barely looks like it'll fit both of us inside. Are you sure someone actually lives there?”

“Trust me,” Carter said. “It's a lot bigger than it looks.”

Billie rolled her eyes. “If I had a nickel for every time a guy's told me that before...”

Carter laughed. “Come on. You'll love this.”

They walked up to the tiny building, and Billie saw that the door looked like reinforced steel, with no handle to open it from the outside. There was a small intercom next to it, and a security camera was mounted above it.

Carter blew a thick layer of dust off the intercom, then pushed the button.

“Is this the part where the little guy with the funny mustache pops out and tells us that no one gets in to see the Wizard?” she asked.

“You're not far off,” he replied.

A moment later, there was a blast of static from the intercom, followed by a quaking, raspy voice.

“Well, is that Hazmat there with you, or is it Oiler? Either way, they're a damn sight prettier than you let on when you described 'em.”

Carter chuckled. “I had to split off from the other two. This is Billie. You'll like her.”

“And you brought it?” the voice crackled.

“You really think I'd show up empty-handed, old man?”

A creaky laugh emanated from the intercom. “I guess you'd better be comin' in, then,” the voice said. There was an odd metallic clanking and grinding sound on the other side of the door that lasted about twenty seconds, and then Billie heard a series of locks clicking and rattling.

Then the door opened, revealing a man who looked like he was in his seventies. He had a pair of goggles pushed up over his thinning white hair, and his beard was long and scraggly. He wore a set of long underwear and a pair of threadbare bunny slippers.

“Pleased to meet'cha, Billie,” he said, extending a liver-spotted hand. “My name's Buzzard Malloy. Reckon you oughtta hurry up an' come inside—there's a coyote that prowls 'round out here. I calls 'im Beauregard. He likes me 'cause I feed 'im, but he ain't been properly introduced to y'all yet, hah!”

Chapter 35

Billie

Buzzard led them into the metal shed, closing the heavy door behind them. It was cramped with the three of them inside, and the old man's body odor hung heavy in the air. Billie was glad she and Carter had showered in the motel that morning, so they weren't contributing to the smell.

“That's one hell of a getup you got there, Carter,” Buzzard said, surveying Carter's clothes and haircut. “Was you plannin' to go door to door later, askin' folks if they've heard the good news 'bout Christ?”

“Like I'm going to take that shit from someone dressed like you,” Carter chuckled. “Shouldn't you be in a saloon somewhere, jumping up and down and yelling about how 'there's gold in them thar hills,' or something?”

“Ahh, you always was fulla piss an' vinegar,” Buzzard laughed.

A light came on, and Billie saw that they were actually standing inside a crudely-constructed elevator. Buzzard turned the crank and the platform they were on slowly sank into the floor, coming out into a cozy-looking living area. There was a small kitchen and dining space, plus a couch and an easy chair. The shelves on the walls were overflowing with thousands of books on every subject imaginable, from the complete works of Charles Dickens to manuals on how to install plumbing. There were three doors leading to other rooms.

“That 'un leads to the generator, the pantry, an' the cold storage room,” Buzzard said, pointing to one of the doors. “Got me enough food, tobacco, an' gasoline in there to stay alive down here fer 'nother forty years. Not that I expect I'll live that long, heh.” He pointed to the second door. “That 'un is the crapper. No need to ask permission 'fore usin' it—we don't much stand on ceremony here. An' that third 'un is my bedroom, though I reckon y'all can use it tonight if'n you want to. I've gotten pretty good at passin' out on the couch with a book an' a whiskey bottle.”

“This is a lovely place you have,” Billie said.

“'Only why did I build it,' right? That's the question you're fixin' to ask, ain't it?” Buzzard let out a long, wheezing laugh. “Saw the writin' on the wall 'bout, oh, ten years back. I'd been workin' at that damn bank in Cactus Hollow fer nigh-on thirty years, when suddenly, in comes that pole-greaser Coop Scanlon with his 'cost-cutting' this an' 'overhead' that. Mind you, it was all just an excuse for the prick to fill his own pockets without anyone knowin'.”

“You used to work at the McMurtry bank?” Billie asked.

“'Course I did,” Buzzard cackled. “Used to see your momma in there 'bout once every week or two, as I recall. Yer Sharon Rosewood's daughter, ain'tcha? Sure y'are. I can see her in yer eyes, y'know? The eyes never lie.

“Anyways,” Buzzard continued, “once Coop figured out that I was onto him, that rancid sack of goat piss set things up so it looked like I was the one stealin'! Can you beat that? Well, that right there was when I had my moment of clarity, like God's own truth shinin' down on my brain. I knew that humans were such a greedy, stupid, arrogant species that it's only a matter of time 'fore the nukes start flyin' an' everythin' gets burned to a goddamn fritter. I built this little hole in the ground so I can spend my last few years safe, comfortable, an' most of all, alone.”

“How will you know if something like a nuclear war happens?” Billie asked. “It doesn't look like you have a TV around here to watch the news.”

Buzzard looked at her as though she must be stupid. “Girl, don't you know them idiot boxes don't never do nothin' but lie?”

“Speaking of the bank, this is for you,” Carter said. He unzipped his saddlebag and produced several stacks of bills, handing them over to Buzzard. “Your share from McMurtry. Twelve grand.”

The old man laughed triumphantly, slapping his knee. “Well, dip me in honey an' throw me to the fuckin' bears. You peckerwoods actually came through!”

“A promise is a promise,” said Carter.

“But you said you've already got everything you need down here,” Billie observed. “So what are you going to do with twelve thousand dollars?”

“Glad you asked,” Buzzard said, grinning. He opened the door to the bathroom and set the stacks of cash next to the toilet. “I'm gonna spend the next few years wipin' my fuckin' old, wrinkled ass with it an' flushin' it down. It'll knock the hell outta my hemorrhoids, but it'll be worth it knowin' that I prob'ly got that sonuvabitch Coop fired. Revenge is a beautiful bitch, ain't she? Come on, I'll make you somethin' to eat.”

Buzzard cooked a delicious meal of pork chops with gravy, spinach, and instant mashed potatoes, and served ice cream for dessert. As they ate, they traded jokes and stories from the road. When Buzzard was clearing the dishes from the table, the tale of the failed gas station robbery made him laugh so hard that his face turned beet red and he almost dropped everything.

After that, Buzzard prepared the bedroom for them and gave them some fresh towels so they could shower in the morning. Then he wished them both goodnight and retreated to the living room to read.

“He's a lot of fun,” Billie said as they kicked off their shoes and curled up on the bed together. “How did you meet him?”

“That's a long story,” Carter said. “And I'll bet we can find something better to do with our time.”

He kissed her and she folded her arms around him, running her hands up and down his powerful back. Her fingertips found the edge of his t-shirt and she pulled it up over his head, tossing it aside. His eyes gleamed down at her mischievously as he took off her shirt, then reached behind her back and undid her bra.

As they continued to kiss, Billie pressed her body against his fervently, like a drowning woman clinging to a life preserver. It felt right, since he'd saved her from a stagnant life of being ordinary and miserable. There was no more need for teasing, no more uncertainty about how far he'd let her go with him. Now that Billie knew their destinies were entwined, she threw herself into Carter with total abandon—not knowing what tomorrow would bring, but knowing that no matter what came, they'd still be together.

Billie sat up and firmly pushed Carter onto his back. She got on top of him, moving her hips up and down slowly. The crotch of her jeans was grinding against his, and she felt how hard he was for her.

“Do you need me, baby?” Billie whispered, planting kisses on Carter's neck and chest.

“God, yes, Billie,” Carter murmured. He stroked her left nipple, and she felt goosebumps cascade over her breast. “I love having you with me.”

“And you're sure you want me to come with you to Mexico?” Billie's lips kept caressing Carter's skin, sinking lower and lower until she was kissing him just below his navel.

“I can't think of anyone I'd rather have with me down there,” he breathed. His fingers stroked the back of Billie's head, tousling her hair.

“Not even Hazmat and Oiler?” she joked, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

He laughed, his eyes meeting hers. Since they'd been together, Billie had seen many emotions in his eyes—anger, mistrust, excitement. But this was the first time she saw joy in them, and she was ecstatic at the thought that she was the reason for it.

“Even them,” Carter said. “But to be fair, neither of them ever did that to me before.”

“You ain't seen nothing yet,” Billie said. She grinned and undid the button on his jeans, taking the tongue of his zipper between her thumb and forefinger. She slid it down slowly, relishing the lust and delight in his eyes as she did. When his fly was fully open, she reached inside, feeling his large cock throb warmly in her hand.

She released it from its confinement, gently stroking the quivering shaft with her fingertips. She marveled at its shape as it continued to extend in her grasp, pointing toward the ceiling.

Billie moistened her lips with her tongue and took him in her mouth. He let out a low moan, his hands tightening on her head.

Billie cradled Carter's cock on her tongue, keeping her hand wrapped around the base of his shaft. She could feel trembles rippling through his body as she sucked him tenderly, moving her head up and down. Up and down over and over.

His musk was intoxicating. Eventually she was able to take him all the way to the back of her throat, and she did so eagerly.

“Your mouth is so fucking sweet,” Carter whispered.

“Mmmm-hmmmmm,” she hummed, drawing it out so the vibration on his skin would drive him crazy. Sure enough, he spasmed as he reached his climax, his back arching as she felt him gush inside her mouth.

As Billie raised her head, Carter sat up. It was his turn to shove her down on the bed. He undid her jeans, putting his hand inside them.

“That got you pretty wet, huh?” he asked, smiling.

“Damn right,” she replied. “What are you going to do about it?”

Carter pulled off Billie's jeans and spread her legs, lowering himself between them. She felt his tongue lapping at her, his warm breath cascading exquisitely down the lips of her pussy.

She gasped, a hand clutching the sheets next to her reflexively.

“Nice technique,” she sighed happily, the other hand stroking the back of his neck.

But minutes later, when he slid two fingers inside of her as he continued to lick her clit, she was unable to speak in anything but sharp, urgent, broken syllables—breathless shards of speech that couldn't begin to hint at the way he was making her feel.

Sucking on him had already brought her close to the edge.

Now a dam broke inside of her, and she felt an ocean of bliss rush through her entire body.

Soon after that, they were asleep in each other's arms.

Chapter 36

Billie

A few hours before dawn, Billie got up to use the bathroom. As she passed through the living room on her way back, she saw that Buzzard was awake and sitting on the couch with a photo album open on his lap.

“I'm so sorry,” Billie said. “I hope I didn't wake you.”

“Nah, I'm usually up around this time anyways,” Buzzard answered. “This bladder've mine insists on wakin' me, an' then what? I stand over the pot fer damn near twenty minutes, with nothin' but drips an' dribbles.” He shook his head. “Never get old if'n you c'n help it, young lady.”

“What's that you're looking at?” she asked.

“Better times,” he replied. There was a touch of sadness in his voice. “Come on an' have a look, if'n you like.”

Billie sat down on the couch with him, looking down at the photo mounted on the page. In it, Buzzard looked about ten years younger. He was posing against a dusty old pickup truck with a handsome, rugged man in a cowboy hat who appeared to be in his fifties.

“My son Alden,” Buzzard said, nodding. “Looks just like me, don't he?”

But the more she stared at the picture, the more Billie realized that Alden looked a lot more familiar than that. His hair, the shape of his face...

And the eyes. The same squint, the same reckless twinkle.

“Is this...Carter's father?” she asked.

Buzzard chuckled. “It's like I said, ain't it? The eyes don't never lie.”

“So you're his grandfather.”

The old man smiled, but in the dim light from the gas lamp next to him, Billie could see tears shining in his eyes. “Don't know how much he told you 'bout his family. But the thing you need to understand is, Alden, he didn't wanna run out on Carter's momma. Hell, he didn't even know she was pregnant. He was a real wild type, an' he got on the wrong side of some moonshiners from Louisiana. I don't even remember what he did to piss 'em off, it was so long ago. He went on the run up to Canada, even spent some years workin' oil rigs in Alaska. He didn't find out he had a son 'til around the time he came back into my life, 'bout six or seven years ago.”

“What was it that kept you apart for so long?” Billie asked.

“I was a drunk when Alden was a boy,” Buzzard said. “I hurt him an' his momma a lot, an' one day I woke up sober an' felt so bad 'bout what I'd done that I knew I had to kill myself or run away. Still dunno why Alden decided to find me, or how he was able to forgive me when I still ain't never forgave myself. But when he learned about Carter, all he wanted to do was go to him an' apologize, give 'im some explanation for why he couldn't be around for 'im as a kid.” Buzzard sighed. “Maybe a day comes when a man just decides he's gotta have his family, no matter how fucked up they are.”

“So what happened?”

Buzzard wiped a tear from his cheek. “I was goin' with him to meet up with Carter, but 'bout halfway there, them moonshiners ambushed us. Those cocksuckers had memories like goddamn elephants, an' even after all them years, they was waitin' for Alden to come back down south so they could settle things with 'im. I'm good with a rifle an' I chased 'em off, but by then, they'd filled my boy with fuckin' holes, the bastards.” He sniffed. “I tracked 'em down an' finished 'em off, though. By God, I did that. Then I found Carter an' apologized to 'im on behalf of his daddy.”

Billie put her hand on Buzzard's arm. “I'm so sorry.”

He shook his head. “No need. Just take good care of my grandson. That's all I ask.”

Billie nodded as she stood and went back to the bedroom. Even after hearing about his early life when they were in the cabin, she hadn't been able to think of Carter as a child. But Buzzard's story made her heart hurt as she pictured Alden spending most of his life without his father, and Carter never even knowing his father at all.

They'd grown up to be hard as nails, but they'd both started off as lonely, abandoned boys. The sadness of this legacy still lingered in Carter's eyes.

Before she went back to sleep, she held Carter tight.

Chapter 37

Carter

When Carter woke up, the first thing he saw was Billie looking down at him with a strange smile. Her eyes looked like she was searching his face for...something. It wasn't unpleasant, but it made him feel a little weird.

“What?” he asked, yawning.

“Nothing,” she said, kissing him. “I'll tell you later. I think Buzzard's making breakfast for us.”

As they emerged from the bedroom, Buzzard was placing plates and bowls of food on the table, along with mugs of coffee. The smell of maple sausage was in the air.

“So I reckon I'll have to go ahead an' burn them sheets after you leave, seein' as how you young people prob'ly spent most've the night pollutin' 'em with your damn sex juices an' whatnot,” Buzzard rasped, winking at Billie.

Carter laughed. “Why don't you sniff them and find out, you old perv?”

“If all this talk isn't enough to make us hungry, I don't know what will,” Billie smirked, sitting down at the table.

“Sorry the eggs an' milk is powdered,” said Buzzard. “Should still taste all right, though. You goin' to meet up with them other two today, down at that truck stop?”

“Yep,” Carter said, shoveling a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“I drew you a map to get to the airstrip from there,” Buzzard continued. “Take care not to get lost. That place ain't gonna have no signs pointin' to it, y'understand.”

“Airstrip?” Billie asked, adding milk to her coffee.

Carter nodded. “It's a little tarmac a few miles from the truck stop. The guy who owns it has a plane he uses to fly people over the border. He runs guns, drugs, fugitives, you name it. He'll transport us in exchange for a percentage of what we got from the banks.”

“Good plan,” she said.

Once they finished their meal and the dishes were in the sink, Carter grabbed his saddlebag from the bedroom. Buzzard gave Carter a hug, slapping him on the back. “Thanks again for makin' an old man happy, kid. You did good. Here, I'll go up top with you.”

They climbed into the lift and Buzzard cranked it, bringing them back up to the surface. As soon as the door opened, the heat from outside hit Carter like a blast furnace.

A second later, a shot rang out and the bullet buried itself in Buzzard's chest.

Buzzard fell out of the small metal shed face first, landing on the sand. Stunned, Carter watched him fall, his peripheral vision registering Billie's shocked expression.

Before he could reach for his own weapon, he heard a gun cock. A man in a black duster coat and a wide-brimmed hat was leveling a pair of long-barreled revolvers at them. He had a long scar extending from his right eye down to his lip, and when he smiled, he revealed a mouthful of rotten teeth.

“Keep your hands up and come on out of there,” he said. “Or don't, and I'll kill you. Either one is fine with me.”

Slowly, Carter and Billie raised their hands and stepped out into the sunlight.

“Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Billie asked.

“Name's Stoudenmire,” the gunman said. “Bounty hunter. There's a hefty reward for you, and I aim to collect. No pun intended,” he added, indicating the pistols in his hands.

“How did you find us?” Carter demanded. Stoudenmire clearly had the drop on them and Carter couldn't think of a way out, so he figured his best option was to stall the man and buy them some time.

“Ancestry website,” Stoudenmire said. He sounded quite proud of himself. “Ain't it funny the things Johnny Law won't think of? I got me one of them thirty-day free trials. Shit, maybe when I'm done with you two, I'll see if I've got any rich uncles worth hitting up. Anyway, I discovered that this codger was your only living relative. Finding his little hidey-hole was just a matter of asking the right questions and breaking the right necks.”

Carter opened his mouth again, but Stoudenmire stopped him. “I can see you've got a whole passel of questions for me, but you're going to have to ask them while we're on our way to the cops, because frankly, the longer I keep standing in this heat, the crazier it's going to fucking make me. So let's go.”

Carter's mind raced. After everything they'd been through, he couldn't believe it would all end now, out here in the desert with no chance of escape. He felt bad for Buzzard, but even more than that, he felt bad for Billie.

He hadn't swept her away from her old life—she was about to be delivered back to it, probably in handcuffs. And Carter couldn't risk doing a damn thing about it, or Stoudenmire would open fire and Billie might be killed.

Before Carter could move, there was a loud growl and a coyote darted out from behind the shed. Its jaws snapped as it lunged at Stoudenmire, sinking its claws into his chest and arm. Stoudenmire let out a high-pitched yelp and fell backward. He tried to shoot the creature, but the bullet went wild and a split-second later, its jaws closed around his throat.

There was a sickening gurgle and Stoudenmire was still, his guns falling from his lifeless fingers.

The coyote looked at Carter, licked the blood from its snout, howled, and bounded off into the desert without a look back.

From that point forward, Carter never had anything bad to say about coyotes ever again.

Chapter 38

Carter

Carter bent down to try to help Buzzard, but once he got a good look at the wound, he knew it was hopeless. His blood was pumping out too quickly, and every time he tried to breathe, there was a sucking sound in his chest.

“I'm so fucking sorry, Buzzard,” Carter said, holding his hand. He could hear Billie crying next to him.

“Ain't nothin' t'be sorry 'bout, kid,” Buzzard whispered. “Least I got a chance t'see you a little in my last few years. Take that money you brought me, okay? Spend it on this girl've your'n. Seems like she's worth it.”

“She is,” Carter assured him.

“Wish I could've introduced you to your pop,” Buzzard croaked, his lips shiny with blood. “My fault. Wasn't strong enough to save him. But I got them cocksuckers in the end, though. I...”

The old man's last breath left his body and his head fell backward.

Carter stood up and held Billie for several minutes. But he knew the longer they stayed, the more danger they were in. If Stoudenmire had found them here, there was no reason to believe others wouldn't too.

They cranked the elevator down to grab the stacks of cash from the bathroom. Then they went back up, stepping over the bodies of Buzzard and Stoudenmire as they headed to the car they'd parked at the fence.

They rode for a few hours in silence until they came to the Pot O' Gold Truck Stop near Del Rio, a town next to the Mexican border. Carter killed the Mercedes' engine and they walked in. As they did, he saw a waitress give them a funny look. His hackles went up for a second before he remembered what he looked like without his long hair and biker gear.

She probably thinks we're a couple of yuppies who wandered into the wrong place for a burger, he thought.

Hazmat and Oiler were sitting in a booth at the back. They were the only customers. When Hazmat saw them, his eyes widened in anger. Oiler looked sad and tired, but not surprised.

“Hope you boys haven't been waiting too long,” Carter commented as he and Billie sat across from them.

“Why the fuck is she still with you?” Hazmat snarled. “Jesus, what the hell's wrong with you?”

“Nice to see you again too,” Billie said sourly.

“Don't you crack wise at me, girlie,” Hazmat hissed, “or I'll kill you both right here.”

“No you won't,” said Carter. “She's with me now. She's coming to Mexico with us. Believe me, she's useful to have around.”

“Useful to have around?” Hazmat repeated, sneering. “What, has she got a solid gold twat or something? You must be out of your mind if you think we're gonna let you bring her along. She's already fucked things up for us enough. Besides, if you want some kinda fuck-doll to play with, there's about a million of 'em down in Mexico. You don't need to import one.”

“This does seem like a weird idea, man,” Oiler pointed out. “Are you guys, like...in love now, or somethin'?”

Carter looked at Billie and smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. “I'm pretty sure we are.”

Oiler thought about this for a moment, then grinned. “Yeah. Okay. I guess love can make you do some strange stuff sometimes. If she's sure she wants to come along and she ain't gonna slow us down none, that's fine with me.”

“You're a bunch of fuckin' morons, all of you!” Hazmat exclaimed. “Suddenly we're in some kinda bullshit fairy tale where we can just whisk her away with us an' we'll all live happily ever after? Because unless you were plannin' on pimpin' her out when we get down there—”

“I've had just about enough of that crap from you,” Carter growled. “She's coming with me. If you can't get with that program, we can divide up our shares and go our separate ways.”

“Oh, we're goin' our separate ways,” Hazmat said dangerously. “But I'm not dividin' jack with you. Every bad fuckin' thing that's happened to us has been because of your bad leadership, so I'm keepin' what we got from the Cactus Hollow job, an' the other cash I've got too. You can call it a stupid tax.”

Carter opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. “Fine. If that's what it'll take to put an end to this—”

Suddenly, they heard the warble of a police siren right outside, and blue lights flickered on the wall behind them.

“Carter Winslow, Jack Thornvale, and Lane Scudder!” a voice called out through a bullhorn. “Come out with your hands in the air or we're coming in. You have one minute to comply.”

“I knew that waitress was onto us,” Oiler moaned.

“Fuck,” Hazmat spat, staring daggers at Carter and Billie. “This is all your fault, you piece of shit. You led them here. You, it's always been you, slowing us down and fucking us up and dragging this dumb cunt into it, you motherfucker, I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you both—!”

Hazmat grabbed a steak knife from the table and jumped at them, but before Carter could react, a gunshot split the air and half of Hazmat's head was blown off. He was dead before he hit the floor, and a thin ribbon of smoke drifted from the barrel of Oiler's gun.

“That guy was a real dick, huh?” Oiler said, blinking the flecks of blood from his eyelashes.

There was a commotion outside as the cops prepared to breach the truck stop. Oiler looked behind at the door, reaching into his pocket and sliding his keys across the table to them. “Go out the back,” he said. “My bike's parked out there. I'll hold them off.”

“How?” Carter asked.

Oiler smiled. He handed over his own saddlebag and the one that had belonged to Hazmat as well.

“Just go,” he said. “And make sure my wife and kid get my share. Tell them I loved them. They won't believe it, maybe, but tell them anyway. Now go.”

Carter and Billie grabbed the bags and headed for the kitchen just as cops burst in the front door. They heard Oiler's voice scream, “I'm not going back to prison, pigs! Come on and bring it!”

Then there were gunshots, and the sound of Oiler's body hitting the floor.

Carter burst out the back door with Billie right behind him. They found the motorcycle and climbed on, gunning the engine. The machine roared as they burned rubber, zooming out of the parking lot and down the highway as fast as they could. A few moments later, they heard sirens again, and blue lights flashed in their rearview mirrors.

The chase was on.

Chapter 39

Carter

With Billie's arms tight around his waist, Carter pushed the bike as hard as he could, riding as though every devil in hell was on their heels. The cruisers behind them shrieked like a pack of banshees, and every minute seemed to bring the cops closer.

They were riding so fast that Carter almost missed the turn onto the old road that led to the airstrip.

“Are we going to make it?” Billie asked, raising her voice over the engine.

“Goddamn right we will,” he said. He honestly didn't know whether they would or not, but he didn't want Billie to give up hope. Those police cars kept closing in, though.

We have to make it, Carter thought grimly. For Buzzard. For Oiler. We fucking owe it to them.

“In case we don't—” she began.

“We will.”

“Yeah, but just in case,” she continued, “I want you to know that I love you too.”

The airstrip came into view ahead of them. Carter saw the plane waiting on the tarmac and the pilot lounging next to it in a folding chair. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and examining a centerfold in a porn magazine. When he saw the bike coming in with police cars behind it, he jumped to his feet, knocking the chair over.

“What the fuck is this nonsense?” the pilot asked as Carter brought the bike to a stop next to the plane. “You brought cops?”

“Never mind that,” Carter said. He and Billie hopped off the bike and ran toward the plane. “Just get us out of here, fast!”

The pilot shook his head, following them up the ramp into the plane and shutting the door behind them. “All right, but this shit is gonna cost you big-time,” he muttered, climbing into the cockpit. “Leading the fucking cops here...I'm gonna have to arrange a whole new airstrip to land on before I get back...”

“Just fly!” Billie yelled as the plane's engines started.

“Cut the engine and get out of the plane now,” the bullhorn voice called outside. “If you don't, we'll have no choice but to open fire.”

The plane started forward. Carter looked out the side window, white-knuckled with anxiety as the cops chased after it. A couple of them fired their guns at it, but the plane kept going—and a few moments later, it lifted off the ground and the gray airstrip was replaced by the clear blue sky.

Carter looked down and saw that Billie was holding his hand. There were tears of relief in her eyes.

“We made it,” she said.

“Told you,” he replied, kissing her.

Chapter 40

Panzer

A waitress from a truck stop near Del Rio had called the tip line a couple of hours ago, saying that two men who fit the descriptions of Hazmat and Oiler were sitting at one of her tables. This news had filled Harbaugh with obvious and savage delight, and Panzer's heart sank when Harbaugh contacted the local cops, telling them to stake the place out and wait for Carter and Billie to show up before slapping the cuffs on all of them.

When they got the call that Carter and Billie had shown up, Harbaugh practically danced a jig as he ordered the cops to move in and take them.

Then word came in about the high-speed chase Carter was leading them on.

Now Harbaugh stood behind Panzer's desk, tense and wild-eyed as he spoke into the radio. “Del Rio PD, do you have them or not? Over.”

Silence, except for the faint crackling of the radio.

Harbaugh slammed his fist down on the desk. “Del Rio PD, answer me, goddamn it! Do you have Winslow and Rosewood in custody? Over.”

Panzer waited breathlessly, his fists clenched so tightly that they hurt.

More silence...and then a voice, saying sheepishly, “This is Del Rio PD. They, uh, they got to a plane and flew away.”

Harbaugh balked, his face turning red. “Say again, Del Rio PD? What the fuck do you mean they flew away?”

The radio crackled again. “They're gone. Over.”

Harbaugh bellowed with rage, kicking Panzer's trash can across the room. Panzer tried to keep a straight face, but inwardly, he was celebrating.

Good luck, Billie, he thought. Wherever life takes you, I hope you find happiness there.

He cleared his throat. “Agent Harbaugh,” he said in his most official-sounding tone, “I believe I'd like my desk back, please.”

Epilogue

Billie

One Year Later

The golden Mexican sunlight glittered through the windows, and the waves of the Gulf crashed against the shore like a soothing lullaby. Carter and Billie had been living in the port of Tampico since they crossed the border, and the beautiful beaches and salty tang in the air suited Billie just fine.

Now they were in bed and pressed against each other tightly, the bedclothes tangled around them as they made love. Carter's cock filled Billie up until she thought she might burst, and with every thrust, his thick shaft rubbed against her clit and sent sparks blazing and dancing through her. She loved the way their breath mingled on her lips, and the dizzying perfume of their combined sweat as it soaked the sheets beneath them.

Carter was on top of her, one hand cradling her face as the other traced delicate patterns on her neck and breasts. She lifted her hips, desperate to feel every inch of him. She had never known such hunger for a man, and she knew that she never would again. Their bodies fit together perfectly, like two lost pieces of a puzzle that had gone unsolved for too long.

“Never stop,” she whispered, biting his earlobe playfully.

“I never will,” he answered, pushing even deeper inside of her. Moments later, they came together, their bodies writhing and pulsing in absolute harmony. They did their best to bite back the sounds of their passion so they wouldn't wake their baby in the next room.

But even though they were as quiet as they could be, little Alden still stirred and started crying, interrupting their post-coital bliss for his afternoon feeding.

She walked to the baby's room and took him out of his crib, wiping the tears from his chubby cheeks. He'd been born two months before. Even at this age, though, the resemblance to Carter, his father, and his grandfather was clear.

The eyes, especially. The eyes couldn't lie.

Carter joined her in the room, taking Alden from her. He walked the baby around the room in a circle, rocking him and singing to him gently. “As I was a-walkin' the streets of Laredo...as I was a-walkin' Laredo one day...I spied a young cowboy, wrapped in white linen...wrapped in white linen, and cold as the clay...”

Alden stopped crying and looked up at Carter. Watching them together, Billie knew that the child would never spend a single day without knowing how much his father loved him, and that he'd always be there for him no matter what.

He'd have what Carter never did. Her love for them both swelled in her heart until she thought she might burst.

Plus, she knew that she could make love to Carter again later, once Alden had gone back to sleep.

They had all the time in the world.

THE END

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Books by Zoey Parker

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HIS PLAYTHING: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Voodoo Devils MC)

I USED HER AS MY TOY UNTIL SHE WAS TOO BROKEN TO FIX.

My little plaything does one thing only: whatever the f*ck I tell her to do.

I want her naked? Done. I want her moaning? Done.

I want her filled with my baby?

I just say the word, and she’ll be bent, wet, and ready.

Rules never meant much to me.

I take what I want, and dare other men to stop me.

And when it’s a woman I desire…

Well, they know better than to try resisting a man like me.

I’m too much to stop.

Too powerful to defy.

Too rugged and tattooed to ignore.

When an old friend calls with a plea for help, I decide to lend my aid.

Men to kill, money to steal, and a hot mafia princess to f*ck senseless?

It was an easy sell.

But this “simple fix” turns out to be a goddamn mess.

Before I know it, I’m up to my balls in drugs, betrayal, and a sea of dead bodies.

There’s only one thing keeping me going:

I’m not leaving until I’ve got the princess on her knees.

She’s too untouched, too virginal for me to let her go.

There’s a beast in me that needs to lay its claim on her…

And in her.

I’m gonna kill all the men around her.

Then I’m gonna sling her over my shoulder and teach her how to properly obey a man.

It won’t be easy.

It won’t be pretty.

But one way or another, I’m gonna turn her into my newest toy.

HIS PROPERTY: Iron Bandits MC (A Bad Boy Baby Romance)

I f*cked her like she’s my property – because she is.

She showed up on my doorstep, desperate and alone.

My dead brother’s girl – with their baby in her arms.

I’ll take them in…under one condition.

As long as they’re here, I’m gonna f*ck her from dusk ‘til dawn.

I’m not a babysitter, not a saint.

Hell, I’m not even a nice guy.

I’m a motherf*cking biker.

I fight hard and f*ck harder.

I ride fast and drink faster.

I don’t ask forgiveness or permission – I just take what I want and crush anyone who tries to stop me.

But Ellie is an obstacle of a whole ‘nother type.

I didn’t ask to be the guardian of my dead brother’s family…

And yet, here they are.

But it’s more than just a babysitting gig.

She needs something from me.

A fake marriage.

Well, shit.

I’ll do what I have to do – for my brother’s sake.

But if Ellie’s gonna be my wife, she better be prepared to perform all her wifely duties.

This wedding may be fake, but her moans sure as hell won’t be.

Bend over, sweetheart.

You belong to me now.

UNCHAINED: Metal Monsters MC

I made her my hostage, my f*ck toy… and now, my wife.

She crossed a line and almost got me killed.

There’s a price to pay for that.

And she’ll be paying it for a long, long time.

I’ll make her see – from the handprint on her a** to the ring on her finger – that all of her belongs to me now.

Billie thought she was tough.

A bartender in a rough part of town – she’d seen it all, right?

Wrong.

She’s never seen nothin’ like me before.

I’m all muscle and ink.

I take what I want and f*ck it ‘til I’m finished.

And my eyes just landed on her.

The stupid broad almost got me and my crew arrested or, worse, killed.

Who shows up to a bank robbery like it’s a spectator event?

She needs to be taught a lesson.

And I need to tie up this loose end.

Against the wishes of my crew, I take her with me.

They thought I should have killed her.

But I have a better punishment in mind.

I’m going to make Billie taste me.

Submit to me.

Cry for release at the top of her lungs.

As we run through the desert, just steps ahead of the cops on our tail, I make her plead for mercy.

She’ll take me as her master.

Her husband.

And, soon, the father of her child.

UNTAMED: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

I took her without asking and made her my toy.

I thought I’d seen every trick a woman could turn. But I didn’t see Sadie coming.

Her screw-up brother owes me a lot of money…

And it doesn’t take long to decide what will satisfy the debt:

Her. Bent, bare, and begging for me – over, and over, and over again.

In my line of business, golden opportunities don’t just stroll into your office.

At least, not usually.

But Sadie was different.

She comes in to help bail her useless brother out of a messy situation.

He owes me a mountain of cash, but she claims she’ll do whatever it takes to clear his name.

So, let’s find out how far this little gem is willing to go.

I f*ck her then and there.

Bend her over my desk.

Shove my fingers between those plump lips and make her cry my name.

And then I put her to work.

But it doesn’t take long before I’m relying on her to help run my business by day…

And to satisfy my desires by night.

Under my eyes, this little kitten has become a jungle cat.

But when I start to suspect that she’s double-crossing me, I’m forced to lay down the law.

Sadie thinks she’s untamed, but the truth is this:

I will always be her master.

UNDRESSED: Soul Catchers MC

I told her to get undressed… I won’t take no for an answer.

To my MC brothers, I’m a reckless rebel. But to Kira, I’m a new dad, desperate for help raising a child I never knew I had.

She thinks I’m kind, normal — because she doesn’t know what I really do.

I just hope she’s ready…

Because I’m going to show her all at once – with my words, with my hands, with the monster behind my zipper – I’m a bad, bad man.

By day, I’m a good guy.

I have a real job, a real life. I help people.

And, hell… part of me even likes it.

But there’s another side that I don’t share in the sunlight.

With my leather on my back and my bike between my legs, that white knight façade gets left behind.

When the engines roar, I’m as bad as they come.

I drink. I f*ck. I fight.

And g*ddamn, I love it.

But my dual life comes to a screeching halt when my ex drops off a child I didn’t know I had.

Suddenly, I have a son to care for.

I wasn’t ready for this, and I sure as hell can’t manage it alone.

Especially not when my club is threatening to implode.

I need help until I can get all this sh*t figured out.

The girl who answers my Help Wanted ad is desperate, but I figure that’s a good thing – I’m desperate, too.

And it doesn’t hurt that she’s a stone-cold stunner with a child of her own.

Single dad meets single mom…

Under other circumstances, it might even be cute.

But ours isn’t a cute story at all.

There’s far too much blood and misery for that.

And besides – when I finally f*ck Kira, it will be far from cutesy.

It will be hard.

Brutal.

Damn near savage.

My dark side wouldn’t have it any other way.

UNPROTECTED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Hanley Family Mafia)

I took her unprotected... now, I'll guard her with my life.

She witnessed something she was never meant to see.

If she wants to stay alive and out of jail, she’ll need to listen to my every command.

So when I tell her to strip, she strips. When I tell her to suck, she sucks.

And when I tell her to bear my baby, she’ll have no choice but to obey.

Lily Erickson was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But I don’t give a damn about her sob story.

The things she saw could ruin my whole business if she blabs to the wrong person.

There’s only one thing to do:

Make sure she never opens her mouth to anyone –

Except for me.

I make my terms very clear.

I’ll let her live.

In return, she’s going to submit to me.

Whenever I want, however I want.

After all, she can’t have witnessed those murders if she was bent over my bed getting relentlessly pounded, right?

It’s an alibi as tight as her little body.

But the cop snooping around suspects something.

Lily may think she’s caught between a rock and a hard place.

But I’m determined to teach her the most important lesson there is in this town:

Whatever I say goes.

And right now, Lily, I say this…

Get on your knees.

We’re going to put a baby inside you.

Addicted: A Secret Baby Romance (Rebel Saints MC)

No one can know she’s carrying my baby.

She’s a dark-haired vixen with a past she refuses to unveil.

Fine with me – I have enough skeletons in my own closet. No names necessary.

When we meet, it is just about sex – rough, raw, violent.

Until I learn who she really is. And everything changes.

I’m hunting for my missing sister when I come across a girl in a bar.

Not just any girl – she’s a drop-dead stunner.

In that red dress, every inch of her skin is just begging to be bit, licked, stroked.

And I’m the only man here with balls enough to do it.

It doesn’t take long before we’re tumbling around in a cheap motel room.

Strip. Spank. Moan.

Fade to black.

But when I wake up, she’s gone.

There’s just a note.

“No names,” it says. Only a phone number.

I’m struggling to put the night behind me as I get back to the mission at hand:

Finding my sister.

I’ve got a hunch that the Piccolo crime family is somehow involved.

They’re notorious sex traffickers, and if I found out they’ve touched Hannah…

Bad things will happen.

I’m going to get those bastards in my grip and squeeze until they tell me where she is.

While I plan my strike with my MC, I can’t help but call the girl from the motel again.

Night after night, we play out my wildest fantasies.

No names.

Just sex.

Things are going just about perfectly…

Until I find out her terrible secrets.

She’s the new head of the Piccolos.

She’s pregnant with my baby.

And she’s about to sell my sister.

God help me… I’m addicted to sleeping with the enemy.

OWN HER: A Dark Mafia Romance (Mancini Family Mafia)

Owning her will be the purest pleasure.

I never gave a damn about the family business.

I’d rather spend my time hunting for sexy women to strip, whip, and chain.

But then Carla showed up.

And all my darkest desires reared their ugly heads.

GIO

She’s the new family lawyer, and I’ve been warned to stay away.

But how could I?

Her skin is buttery soft, her hair flows like silk, and those pink lips are just begging to be forced wide open.

She knows I’m no good for her.

I’m dark.

Dirty.

Dangerous.

But her resistance is just foreplay to me.

And when I stumble across a secret that could cost Carla her life,

I know I’ve found my leverage.

Now, she’s all mine.

CARLA

I’m in over my head.

This was the assignment of a lifetime – go undercover in the Mancini crime family and take them down from within.

This is what I was born to do.

In all my years at the FBI, I’ve seen too much of the twisted horrors they’ve brought to life.

Amongst a family of drug runners and flesh traders, Gio Mancini might be the worst of the lot.

He’s got a legendary appetite for women that haunts my nightmares.

He reels them in with his charm, gives them a glimmer of hope…

And then breaks them utterly.

I just need to get inside, get what I need, and get the hell out.

Most importantly, I need to stay away from Gio.

His cocky grin is tempting, his body is flawless.

But for a while, I manage to keep to myself.

And then I slipped up.

He finds out who I really am.

This is the end for me, I think, as he opens his mouth.

But what he said instead turned out to be so, so much worse.

HARDCORE: Storm MC

I’m a hardcore man in a hardcore world.

She’s a diamond in the rough.

But if she’s not careful, she’ll fall into the wrong hands…

Mine.

SIENNA

Working at the strip club wasn’t my first choice, but it paid, and I was good at it.

Things were going as well as they could, all things considered.

Until my sister made a fatal mistake.

Now, her bad choice haunts me, and all I want is revenge.

The only reason I’m still dancing is to get close to our sleazy boss, the bastard who sent my sister to her death.

The problem is, he’s surrounded himself with an army of muscle – a motorcycle club for hire. They’re all brawny, tattooed, and wouldn’t blink twice before ending my life.

But consequences be damned.

I’ve got a man to kill, and a plan to get my hands around his throat.

It would have worked, too.

If it weren’t for Dom.

***

DOM

“No one leaves the club.”

It was always just a saying, a slogan, a reminder that loyalty is everything.

Then our president accepted a deal with the devil.

Now, our whole club is at the beck and call of some slimy porn kingpin, and anyone who tries to break the contract gets killed.

I hate what I’ve become, but I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

I didn’t have a way out, either.

Until Sienna.

The fiery dancer tries to kill our mark, and I’m the one who stops her.

Now, her life is mine to do with as I please.

And I’ve got an important decision to make.

What do I do with her?

She’s got a body worth taming, worth claiming as my own.

Or even better – worth selling to the highest bidder.

Once I’ve gotten a fair price for her, I’ll be able to buy my own freedom and get the hell out of this nightmare.

She’s my golden ticket, my way out.

But nothing is ever as easy as it seems.

Sienna isn’t worth anything dead, but keeping her alive might cost me my life.

A Price to Pay

We’ll both pay the price for crossing the line.

There are some things in this world a man should never do.

But as far as I’m concerned, the rules can go f*ck themselves.

I’m Cain Vale.

I do whatever the hell I want.

Of course, that’s part of the reason I ended up in this situation:

Bleeding from a cracked skull, as a lifetime of naked sluts and roaring bikes flashes before my eyes.

A life well lived, but I’m not ready for it to be over just yet.

Not when there’s revenge to be dealt.

Once I’m back on my feet, the men who betrayed me will pay dearly for their crimes.

They will suffer.

Scream.

Beg for my mercy.

But my injuries are worse than I thought.

Until I can ride again, my president tasks his kid sister with helping me recover.

What she doesn’t know is that, while she’s in my household, she’ll live on my terms.

She’ll please me.

She’ll taste me.

And by the time I’m finished, she’ll know how it feels to be owned.

Take Me, Outlaw

I wanted to be his tonight – his toy, his willing slave...

She’s living proof that bad things happen to good people.

Wrong place, wrong time, but the universe doesn’t give a damn.

Neither does the Mafia.

They’re going to kill her, unless I do something about it.

I’ve never been one to stand by idly, so I do what I have to:

take her before my enemies get the chance to do the same.

At first, it was a matter of convenience.

But the longer she is on the back of my bike,

The greater my hunger grows.

It’s only a matter of time until it feasts.

But there are soulless bastards nipping at our heels.

They want blood – both hers and mine.

Now, I’m faced with an impossible choice: do I leave her, or keep her in my grasp?

Break Me, Outlaw

HE MEANT TO BREAK MY BODY. INSTEAD, HE BROKE MY HEART.

I knew from the moment I walked in that this place was not meant for me.

I was clean; this place was filthy.

I was fair; this place was dark.

But maybe I was sick of living a safe life.

Maybe I was sick of every little thing fitting together just so.

I was sick of being perfect and whole.

I wanted to be broken.

In this dark and pungent hell, I found the man to do the job.

He took me into his arms and broke me –

Over, and over, and over again.

When it was finished, I picked up the pieces of myself that remained, and I left.

But things never end that easily.

I didn’t know it then, but when I ran, I took something with me.

Something I never wanted…

Something I never asked for…

The baby of the man who’d owned me.

Now, my unborn child and I are helpless pawns in some sick and twisted game.

People are being hurt, killed.

I can’t stand to watch anymore.

All I can do is cry, and plead, and beg.

All I can say are three little words:

Please, for the love of God…

“Break me, outlaw.”

Stolen

He's a ruthless biker with a kingdom to run. She's a talented thief with a nose for trouble.

Things are about to get messy.

Sasha

I knew going in that this would be dangerous. But what choice did I have?

None, that's how much. You don't say "No" to a man like Fang, the mob boss I work for. Not if you want to live to tell the tale.

So I swallowed my fear and I took the mission: stealing drugs from the Hell's Overlords MC.

The first time was smooth. In and out like a flash.

The second time was just as easy.

But the third time…that's when everything went wrong.

Now, I'm trapped in a basement, staring into the stormy eyes of a man who doesn't like being robbed.

Everything I feared is present in those eyes. There's anger, and strength, and brutality.

But there's something else, too.

Something I didn't expect, and it's scaring me more than anything else.

He's hungry.

Hungry for me.

HER BODY ISN'T THE ONLY THING I'M TAKING AS MY OWN.

Cole

The first time I lay eyes on her, it feels like I got struck by lightning.

You've probably heard that before, but trust me – this is different.

This isn't the "struck by lightning" you see in friendly little rom-coms with happy endings.

It doesn't come with warm fuzzies.

It's not cute.

No, the kind of lightning I'm talking about makes me want to do things, things that you might not always like.

It makes me want to bite her lip like a feral dog, to squeeze her hips in my hands and rid her of every scrap of clothing.

The lightning surging through my veins makes me harder than carved marble.

There's only one release: to own her, again and again, until the thirst is quenched.

I don't know how long that will take.

But I'm willing to find out.

Overdosed

I'M ADDICTED TO HER, AND I WON'T STOP UNTIL I GET MY FIX.

When a little girl shows up on the front stoop of the Fury's Storm HQ,

I tell her the obvious truth: "You're at the wrong place, hon."

But then she hands me a note that flips my world upside down.

It says she's my daughter.

I'm the last man on this earth who should be caring for a child.

The only women in my life are the rotating cast of scantily clad groupies who keep my bed warm at night.

So what the hell am I supposed to do with a daughter?

I tell my men to find a way to get Gigi back to her mother.

But they come back and tell me the girl's mom has disappeared without a trace.

Now what?

Just then, a woman knocks at the clubhouse door.

I open it and freeze.

Jamie is a knockout to say the least.

She's pretty, but she doesn't know it.

Sexy, but she hasn't been made to feel it.

Eager, if only the right man were there to stoke her fires.

That's where I come in.

Jamie is Gigi's teacher and she's desperate to keep her favorite student safe.

But as clues to Gigi's mom's disappearance crop up in new and unexpected places, the two of us clash and mesh with wild intensity.

I've never felt like this about a woman before.

I want her.

I need her.

I crave her.

And I'm going to take her, again and again... Until I overdose.

Ravage

I’m a man of few words. The ones I use are violent:

Brawl. Claim. Ravage.

It was lust at first sight.

She looked too damn nice up on that stage to pass up.

A body that curved in all the right places.

Skin demanding that I seize it and squeeze it.

And those eyes…

Eyes I’d never forget. 

What would you have done?

I know what I did: I bought her.

Then I took her home and let her know who she belonged to now.

She screamed my name until the rafters shook. 

Don’t act like you would have done anything different.

That should have been the end of it. 

But if she was just an expensive lay,

you wouldn’t be reading this story.

There was a whole lot more I had yet to find out.

Only one thing I knew for certain:

I hadn’t had my fill of Michelle.

Not. Even. Close.

Bounty

A picture is worth a thousand words, but I only need three:

You. Are. Mine.

The life I lead isn't for the faint of heart. 

A man like me has to say what he means. 

Take what he wants. 

And fight to keep what he has. 

Erica thought she would be safe behind her camera. 

Little did she know she was teetering on the edge of the rabbit hole. 

When she sees something she shouldn't have, 

she falls in. 

She's lucky I showed up when I did. 

Without me, she'd be thrown to the wolves. 

Torn apart. 

Devoured. 

But it doesn't take long before she starts to wonder. 

Is she better off on her own… 

…or at the mercy of the beast inside me? 

At the end of the day, it doesn't matter. 

I tell her how it is: 

"Moan as loud as you want, babe. 

You aren't going anywhere." 

Trouble

He took my sister.

I’m next.

My baby sister went missing over a month ago, and I’d give anything to find her. After countless hours of searching, the trail of clues leads me to Gabriel Hunt, leader of the Crooked Souls MC. 

He’s sexy, strong… 

…and the last man to see my sister alive. 

Before I know it, I’m tumbling down the rabbit hole. I’m being chased, threatened, and almost killed. There’s only one place to turn: right into Gabriel’s arms. 

He is a danger unto himself, but I can’t stop myself from craving his touch. Only time will tell whether he’ll be the key to solving my sister’s disappearance, or the last stop before my downfall. 

I thought I was doing the hunting. But I'm coming to find out that I'm the one being hunted. 

Monster

I thought he was my savior.

If only I’d known he was a murderer, too.

Getting trapped in the snow was my own fault. 

For a moment, I thought I would die out there. 

So when the sexiest man I’ve ever seen pulls me back from the brink of death, 

I suppose I should be grateful. 

He takes me home, warms me up… 

…and lights a fire inside me that only his touch can heal. 

Now I’m burning with desire for Jax — 

his hands, his mouth, his body. 

I know he’s no good for me, 

but nothing can stop me from craving him. 

That is, until his past rears its ugly head. 

But by the time I learn he’s truly a monster, 

it might already be too late. 

At first, she wanted no part of me. But some kinds of darkness are hard to resist… 

I know I’m not a good guy. 

Ever since my wife died, I’ve had a single rule when it comes to women: 

One night only. 

In all these years, I’ve never broken it. 

That is, until I met Christina. 

She’s got a body like sin and a sassy mouth to boot. 

I want to f**k her until she’s hoarse from screaming my name. 

She doesn’t know I have secrets. 

She doesn’t know what I’ve done. 

And even after she discovers who I really am, it won’t matter anymore. 

She’ll have to find out the hard way: 

once you come home with me, 

there’s no going back. 

INKED ANGELS: A Bad Boy Romance Box Set

In this world, there’s no such thing as pure. Even the angels have tattoos.

Bestselling author Zoey Parker presents a box set of three panty-melting, heart-wrenching bad boy romances. The Inked Angels Box Set contains three full-length novels along with a bonus prequel novella, starring filthy, violent men who take what they want without asking. They’re as dark and disturbing as they are tender and loving, so make sure you’re ready for the full rainbow of emotion. You’ve been warned!

The Inked Angels Box Set contains:

A Sinful Vow

I'm about to marry a monster – and there's not a thing I can do to stop it.

Olivia didn’t deserve this fate. But she didn’t have a choice. Blaze wasn’t any more eager to get married, for Christ’s sake, but no one was asking what he wanted. In his eyes, there was only thing that would make this all okay: taking her as his own.

A Secret Vow

I wanted safety. He wanted a baby.

Kendra just wanted an escape from her life of abuse and torment. She seized the first chance she had. But Mortar’s offer of aid came with strings attached. He’ll protect her – and in return, he wants a baby.

A Broken Vow

She’s a fragile little thing. I just might break her.

Rose and Vince were never supposed to be together. One night only – then back to reality. He had a war to fight, after all. But when she shows up on an auction block, he makes a final decision: she’s never leaving his side again.

Cross Your Heart (Novella)

PROMISE YOU'LL BE MINE FOREVER.

Croak was just trying to do the right thing. But Corinne’s body was too damn tempting to resist. Some lines should never be crossed, however, and sleeping with the daughter of his MC’s president was definitely a firm no. When she’s stolen from him, he must hunt down her captor and take her back – both for her sake and his own.

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