Price Tag (A Dark Bad Boy Romance #2) - Ella Wolfe

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. PRICE TAG: A Dark Bad Boy Romance copyright 2017 by Ella Wolfe. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.

Contents Note to Readers PRICE TAG: A Dark Bad Boy Romance Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five A Gift for You – SLASH: A Dark Bad Boy Romance 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 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44

Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Mailing List

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Note to Readers I hope you enjoy Jett and Dayna’s love story in PRICE TAG: A Dark Bad Boy Romance. It’s a dark story of revenge and betrayal, but I think their connection is so powerful that it cuts through all of the violent bloodshed and will really stick in your mind once you’ve finished reading. I had an amazing time writing this novel and I’m so excited to be able to share it with you. Once you’ve finished the book, I would love it if you could leave a review. You can also email me at [email protected] if you have questions, comments, or if you just want to say hi :-) Enjoy! <3 Ella Wolfe

PRICE TAG: A Dark Bad Boy Romance By Ella Wolfe



They will pay. Even if it kills me. Jett This was supposed to be simple. Find my father’s killers. Make them bleed. But then she came along and screwed everything up. Now, she’s haunting my dreams and my reality alike. Tempting me. Teasing me. Seducing me with the merest glimpse of her porcelain skin. She talks a big game; she thinks she can handle me. But there’s no turning back once we’ve gone down this road. We’re in too deep, and there’s no way I’m letting her go.

Dayna I never wanted to come back here. But I couldn’t stand to see my mother suffer anymore. Every bruise dealt by my stepfather’s drunken, whirling fists was like a dagger to the heart. We had to escape. But I left one horror story just to waltz into another. Jett Walker is hell-bent on revenge, and he doesn’t give a damn who gets hurt along the way. The right thing to do would be to stay far, far away from him. But I can’t. I can’t abandon the kid I knew all those years ago. He’s a man, now. Not a good one. A monster, a killer, a brute. But somewhere, buried below those swirling tattoos and bulging muscles… …is my salvation. I just hope I can afford what he is taking from me. Even freedom comes with a price tag.

Chapter One Dayna The early morning light flitted through the partially open curtains of the motel room I was in, luring me gently from my slumber in time to catch my mother leaving for work. Perhaps if it was a little darker, if I was a little groggier, or if she had turned away a little faster, I would’ve stayed blissfully unaware for a few moments longer. But as it was, the faint bruise on her skin could’ve had neon lights pointing to it considering the way my eyes automatically zeroed in on it. I suppressed a flinch as my eyes raked over my mother’s frail form and bruised body. Though it was starting to fade, and her heavily made up skin covered almost all traces of the damage, her injury seemed to be imprinted on my mind, rising to the surface every time she looked at me. It was a painful reminder of a life we had only recently managed to escape. Sensing my awakening, like only a mother could, she turned to me and offered a gentle smile. That smile spoke volumes. It was an I’m-glad-to-be-here smile, as well as an I’d-do-it-all-over-again smile. And damn if that didn’t cut me the most. I stretched a hand out to her and she hobbled closer. “You’re leaving already?” I asked, my voice still filled with remnants of my slumber. “It’s almost five, Dayna,” she replied. “Oh.” I thought it had been a lot earlier. “Bye Ma. I swear today will be the day.” “I trust you, Dayna. I know you’ll find something.” She leaned in and placed a delicate kiss on my cheek. Knowing perhaps that her bruise would upset me, she kept her right side turned away from me. I hated that I was grateful for it. Heading out at last, I waited until the flimsy hotel room door closed behind her before I let out a heaving sigh. I still couldn’t believe that after all these years we had ended up back in Waco, Texas, the place where I’d spent the majority of my childhood. Back then, I was just a carefree kid who had no idea of the struggles I would soon face. It was just me and my mother then, just like it was now, and I knew it would be a long time before we let anyone in our lives again. As soon as we arrived back in town, my first thought was how eerily unchanged it all was. Same houses, same people, same roads, and with my mother returning to the same diner that she’d worked in over twelve years ago, I felt like I’d taken a step back in time to my early youth. But as I kept looking down the symmetrical streets and familiar storefronts, I couldn’t help but feel that something was starkly different to before, though I couldn’t put my finger on what. It took many moments for me to consciously understand that it was me who had changed, along with my entire outlook on life. Waco no longer represented

comfort, or happiness, or a place to call home. Especially since we were currently housed in a partly dilapidated hotel that I hadn’t even realized was part of the town. It had stained carpets, a lumpy bed that my mother and I had to share, and an acidic smell that I couldn’t quite place. Considering it was a roof over our heads and didn’t have monsters lurking in the shadows, I considered us lucky to be here. Deciding it was finally time to suppress my self-pity, I rolled out of bed and grabbed the newspaper that my mother had left by the door. I had told her that today would be the day I found a job and I would keep my promise. We’d been here for two weeks and I still hadn’t found a thing, but if we had any chance of starting a new life, I couldn’t just rely on my mother anymore. I scanned through the job listings; most of them I was entirely uninterested in or completely unqualified for. I tried to rein in my increasing disappointment and frustration when a small advert caught my eye. It wasn’t only the fact that I’d finally found a job that fit my skills exactly; an admin job was right up my alley and that alone would have perked me up. But the name of the shop was what completely shocked me. In all my reminiscing about my youth, I had conveniently forgotten the person I’d spent most of my childhood with, mucking around and playing catch. Jett Walker used to be the sweetest boy I’d ever met, taking a shy and awkward younger girl under his wing and helping her out when the other kids bullied her. I had a vague recollection of our parents knowing each other but as a kid, Jett Walker was practically family. He was two years older, but that never seemed to matter when I was running around chasing him everywhere he went. In a way, I was glad I left before he started dating girls and breaking hearts. But now, back in Waco, I’d completely forgotten that he would be in town too. Jett Walker Motorcycles. It had to be a sign, didn’t it? There was no way it could be anything else. I’d already dismissed the possibility that it was another man with the same name, so caught up in my own fantasy that I’d started weaving in my head. After all, how many people named Jett Walker could there possibly be in Waco? Grinning foolishly to myself, I decided that I would indeed pay him a visit today. Even if he didn’t hire me for the job, it would be nice to see a familiar face after so many years, a reminder of happier times. I bustled around eagerly, getting dressed and feeling lighter than I had in a long time, perhaps years. If the state of the town was anything to go by, I was sure he hadn’t changed a bit.

Chapter Two Jett The clicking of heels was the first thing that I noticed when she arrived. I was working on a bike, shirt off, sweating in the hot garage while trying to concentrate. The radio was on, some long forgotten rock song blasting out of faulty speakers. I didn’t care. I just needed something to distract me from the silence. It had been three months. Three long months filled with carefully controlled rage and the suppression of vengeful thoughts. I’d never understood before, the appeal of the club. I used to hate my old man, a buried guilt that had festered exponentially since his death. The hatred stemmed from the club, no doubt about it. Growing up, I knew that he was the club president first and father second. All my friends as a child used to talk about him like he was a god. I ended up avoiding everyone and everything, trying to find ways to escape the club that seemed to dominate every aspect of my life. In the end, it was a cute little girl with pigtails that ended up saving me. These older girls were picking on her, probably because she looked so damn innocent and vulnerable. I didn’t even need to say much to the girls before they ran off screaming. I guess even then my reputation was enough. Or my father’s reputation. Years later, I learned to accept my father and the club. I never wanted to join it though. Not in a million years. Or not until my dad died and I finally understood the appeal. I signed up the day after his funeral, marching up to my uncle, the new president of Hell’s Raiders. I knew we would be on the same page, wanting vengeance for his murder. In the past few months I’d had more family and support than I did in my whole life, but it was too late now. Now I didn’t need or want any of it. I wanted to avenge my father and I wouldn’t stop until I did. The clicking of heels was getting louder and louder until the front door of the shop opened and the telltale chiming of the bell snapped me out of my thoughts. It took a moment for me to look up, but when I finally did, I immediately raised a brow at the woman. To say that she was out of place was an understatement. She was in a tight white miniskirt and a black fitted shirt with some lace frilly shit on the sides. She was tall, even taller because of the heels, and blonde. My kind of woman. I felt the sides of my mouth twitch into my natural cocky smirk and stood up, wiping my hands on a spare rag. She seemed familiar, but even though I couldn’t remember everyone I had ever seduced into my bed, I knew that I’d gone nowhere near her before. Finally stopping before me, I noticed that she had the widest smile I’d ever seen plastered all over her face, something that brought a weird ache to my chest.

“Jett!” she yelled, taking a step closer and wrapping both arms around my neck, drawing me close to her. I froze at her touch. Who was she? Her embrace felt strangely intimate, like we were reuniting after a long separation, or like we’d known each other our whole lives. I cursed myself again for not recognizing her. I pulled back, oddly wanting to return to her touch, and took a step away from her. “Have we met?” I asked, keeping my blunt façade intact. She withdrew from me, smile still in place though slightly less restrained. “Sorry, Jett. I should’ve introduced myself; it’s been so long. It’s Dayna. Dayna Blake?” My eyes widened in surprise and I felt my face break into the first genuine smile I’d expressed in what felt like years. “Holy shit! Dayna?” Not knowing what came over me, I stepped forward and this time pulled her into my arms, her body flush up against me, her head in the crook of my neck. I couldn’t believe that she’d come back after all this time, looking like a runway model. “What are you doing back here?” Dayna’s smile faltered slightly at my question but only a moment before she brushed it off. “Mom and I decided to come back. Familiar territory, you know?” I nodded, still completely enraptured by her. I always knew she was pretty when we were kids but now she was all grown up and damn she was gorgeous. “I still can’t believe it. It’s been what, ten years?” “Twelve actually. When did you open this place up?” She asked. “Couple years back. How’d you know I’d be here?” “I saw your ad this morning. I couldn’t believe that I’d forgotten you lived here so I came by as soon as I could. I wanted to see a familiar face.” Without even noticing, I found myself raking my eyes over her once again. It was definitely nice to see a familiar face again but I knew without a doubt that Dayna could be the biggest distraction of my life, especially now when I needed to be focused. “I’m glad you came by. So how long are you staying in town anyway?”

“A while I think. At the moment, I’m just trying to look for a job so we can move out of the hotel.” I frowned a little at that. The hotel was no kind of place for someone like Dayna. “I’m not sure if you’d be interested, but we do have a job opening here. It’ll be simple stuff mostly, just filing, answering phones, mail, cleaning up the office that I've ignored for the past two years. What do you think?” “Really, are you sure? Do you want to interview me or something?” I barked out a laugh at her innocence. “Darlin’, I’m sure you’ll be perfect.” “Well can I think it over? I’ll call you today or tomorrow.” I grinned at her again. “Perfect.” We exchanged numbers and she eventually headed off, hips swaying as she sauntered out, and my eyes glued to her backside like there was no tomorrow. I shook myself for a moment and thought back on what I just did. Was giving her the job really a good idea? Could I really afford someone to distract me from avenging my father? Closing my eyes, the image of her radiant smile seemed to be burned on the inside of my eyelids, and something inside of me shifted. Yeah, she might be a distraction. But maybe I wanted a bit of goodness in my life. Maybe I wanted someone innocent and pure to distract me from my darkness. Besides, it was just a job. I would still be dedicated to the club and going after the bastard that murdered my father, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have something nice to look at when I was working. Returning back to my bike, I smiled broadly to myself, probably looking crazy to anyone that might see me. This was going to work out great.

Chapter Three Dayna It had been hours since I’d met with Jett and I was still replaying every moment in my mind. He looked completely different that I’d remembered. I knew it had been a while, but nothing could have prepared me for the dramatic change he’d undergone, from a sweet little boy to a hardened man. He was a lot taller, though that was to be expected. His dark hair was shaved, but he’d grown his beard out. There were tattoos, intricate designs, covering every inch of his shirtless body. I’d almost done a double take when I saw him, so surprised by what he looked like. If it weren’t for his bright blue eyes that instantly seemed to transport me to my youth, I never would have recognized him. As soon as I stepped in the shop I knew he couldn’t recognize me. He was wearing a cocky smirk that seemed so out of place on the face that I use to know. I remembered how he used to give out smiles freely, crack jokes to make me happy and laugh spontaneously and generously. But now, he was very reserved. He seemed older than his twenty-two years, weathered. But there was something else. He seemed distant. Darker. Like he’d suffered as I had in the time we’d been apart. I knew it didn’t make sense for me to assume his life was all smooth sailing, but I truly wanted to know what had hardened him up like that. I was absently stirring a pot of soup on the stove, my mind completely occupied by thoughts of Jett when the sudden slamming of a door broke me out of my reverie. So surprised at my mother’s sudden arrival, I dropped the wooden spoon into the pot, shrieking when it splashed and droplets of hot soup landed all over me. “Dayna!” Mom called, rushing over. “Hi Mom,” I laughed. “Dinner’s ready.” There was no other place to eat except at the kitchen counter, and no stools so we had to stand. Still, the fact that we even had a kitchen was a blessing. “How was work?” I asked Mom. “It was fine. I ran into Carson Walker. You remember him, don’t you?” I frowned, searching my memories. “Jett’s uncle?” I asked and she nodded. “That’s funny, I saw Jett Walker today. He offered me a job at his shop.” Mom’s spoon clattered loudly in her bowl and I looked up from my own in shock, wondering what the problem was.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dayna,” she said slowly and I raised my eyebrows in response. “What do you mean? This is Jett we’re talking about. We grew up together.” “I know, but Dayna… When I was talking to Carson, he mentioned something about Jett’s Dad. He was murdered a few months ago by the Succubus MC.” “The what?” I asked, thoroughly confused. My mother sighed and gave me a sad smile. “I forgot you were so young when we were here. Do you remember Jett’s father?” I nodded. “Vaguely, why?” “He was the president of Hell’s Raiders, the motorcycle club. Back in the day, I was part of the club too.” “No way!” I gasped. “I was quite wild in my youth, you know. Anyway, Jett’s dad was the president until he was murdered by a rival club. Now Carson’s running things, and from what I gather, Jett’s gotten involved too.” “Mom, you can’t expect me to judge them right after you told me you were also in their gang!” I was shouting now, angrier than I could rationally explain. “Sweetheart. Did you ever wonder why we moved from here?” I looked away at that. My whole life I’d assumed that she’d met my stepfather and decided to move away to live with him, taking me with her. I’d harbored a lot of hatred for my mother over the years, assuming that she was the reason we were stuck in a life that took us years to get out of. Even with all the abuse she’d received and all the times that she’d protected me, there was still a part of me that resented her. “We moved away because I wanted a better life for you. I life away from the violence and drama of the club.” Something about that struck me the wrong way. Away from the ‘violence and drama’? My entire life had been filled with that. One wrong look and my stepfather would inflict pain beyond compare, worse because of the fact that we used to trust him. Once upon a time he truly was my father, and my hero. But not long after, he became my worst nightmare. ‘Away from the violence’ was the most ironic thing I’d ever heard coming out of my mother’s mouth. “Didn’t work out for the best though, did it?” I muttered, no longer able to hold back my bitterness. Her sharp intake of breath told me that she’d heard and I forced myself to ignore the slight pang of guilt I felt. It was harsh but it was the truth. I wished that I could go back and live someone else’s life, rid myself of the invisible scars that marred every inch of my body. Most of all, I wanted to go back to my childhood, back when I really didn’t know anything of violence and cruelty.

“I did my best, sweetheart. I know I made a lot of bad decisions but when we moved back here, I still didn’t want you to get involved. He’s hurting, Dayna. He wants revenge for his father’s murder and won’t stop until he gets it. I don’t want you getting hurt.” My mother took a few steps closer to me, hesitant like she was afraid I would lash out. It killed a part of me knowing that in some way I reminded her of my stepdad. “Please listen to me.” She took both my hands in her own and looked me dead in the eye, scaring me a lot more than I would let on. “Please don’t take the job. I don’t want you having anything to do with the Walkers, or the club. Trust me, you're better off without all of that in your life.” Perhaps it was the sincerity in which she spoke or the newfound knowledge that she’d left Waco to keep me safe, however futile that turned out, but I found myself nodding firmly. “Okay, Mom. I promise.” She lifted a hand to cup my face before turning away. I stood silent by the counter a few moments longer, the mental images of both a younger Jett and the older one burned in my mind. It was strange, I had gone months, maybe years without thinking of him. And now, after a brief encounter, he was all I could think about. Was it just residual affection for the little boy that saved me when I was a kid, or was it something more? In truth, I felt ashamed. I felt like I’d abandoned a close friend in his time of need. Sure, we hadn’t seen each other in years, and I didn’t know that faintest thing about him anymore, but I still felt the guilt rising up and threatening to choke me. Breathing deeply, I pushed all thoughts of him from my mind. My mother didn’t ask for much and she’d spent her life trying to protect me. Rationally, I knew she had tried her best and I could never fault her for that. If she didn’t want me to associate with Jett then I wouldn’t. For her. Another job would come along eventually, I was sure of it.

Chapter Four Jett “Jett!” A voice called out. I put down my wrench and stepped away from my bike, turning to see my uncle walking into my workshop. My uncle Carson was many things, strong, fierce, dedicated, and a pain in my ass. “Hey Carson,” I greeted stiffly. “What’s going on?” “I was in the neighborhood. And I haven’t seen you at the clubhouse in a few days.” “Haven’t felt like going,” I grunted then turned back to my bike, picking up my wrench once more. It wasn’t that I had anything against Carson but sometimes I looked at him a certain way, or he formed a certain expression on his face and bam! It was like I was looking directly at my father. Carson was the younger brother, though only by a few years. Him and my dad had an ongoing rivalry throughout their life, so much so that sometimes I wondered if they even got along. But after his death, Carson became a really solid part of my life. He took over the club, gave me a chance to prove myself and promised he’d help with my plans of vengeance. Despite all this, I couldn’t quite resist looking away whenever he smiled, just so I could avoid the flood of memories and grief. “Jett… “ “There haven’t been any meetings, anything urgent. I skipped one club party, I hardly think that’s a crime.” “I thought you were aiming for VP.” I shut my eyes hard for a moment before replying. “I am. But Mack is doing a fine job as Vice. I’m committed to the club, you know that. I just want...” I cut my words short, not wanting to continue. “Son,” Carson said, placing a hand on my shoulder. Suppressing the urge to flinch, I turned away from my bike once more and met his steady gaze. “He was my brother. We’ll get revenge when the time is right.” I broke eye contact and nodded. He was speaking as my uncle now, a welcome change from how he’d been for the past few months. In my weaker moments, I would think that the power of club President was getting to his head, but I knew I was just bitter. “Guess who I saw the other day?” he said, changing the subject.

“Who?” “Dayna Blake.” “No shit?” I said, feigning surprise. There was no way I wanted my uncle to know that I’d already seen her. He’d get crazy ideas in his head that I didn’t need. Of course, nothing got past my uncle and he called me out on it immediately. “You knew? How? You haven’t left the shop in days.” For a moment, it bothered me that he seemed to know my whereabouts at all times, but I supposed he was just trying to care, in his own way. Forcing those thoughts away, I smirked at him, glad to be able to oneup my uncle, even if it was just this once. “She came to me, actually. Last week. Didn’t even recognize her at first, Christ.” “Christ is right. She’s all grown up now, Jett. And looking fine too.” Scowling, I threw a discarded rag at his head. He tipped his head back and laughed a mighty laugh, one that reminded me of better times. “I offered her the job here, she hasn’t gotten back to me yet though.” “You just offered her the job, did you?” He smirked. I looked around for another dirty towel to throw at him but, coming up empty, I decided to glare instead. “She was qualified.” Actually, I had no idea if she was or not. I suppose I was a bit too taken with her to go through with the formalities. “I'm sure she was.” Sick of his questions, I turned my back on him once more and headed to the mini fridge in the corner of the room. I lobbed a beer at his head before I spoke again. “She hasn’t given me an answer and it’s been a week. I doubt it’ll work out.” “Jett, Jett, Jett. A girl like that? Go after her.” “I don’t know what you mean,” I ground out. Sure, I wanted her to work here. But I wasn’t going to beg for it. Besides, I had a sneaking suspicion that she’d heard rumors about me around town, and I knew there were plenty to listen to. I wasn’t stupid. I knew how people talked. And in a town like Waco, people talked a lot. When you were part of Hell’s Raiders, you had the entire club at your back, as well as the majority of the town that didn’t care either way. But that also meant that a lot of people assumed you were a nuisance and a troublemaker. It didn’t matter that the club worked hard to make sure that none of our business spilled out into the town

and the people. It didn’t matter that we went out of our way to keep the town safe from our rival clubs. I knew that rumors circulated anyway, most of them not coming even close to the truth, though I could admit that a small minority came very close. I also knew that if she was going to listen to those rumors then I didn’t need her around. “She’d be good for you, I’d say. A distraction. If anyone needs to relax a little it’d be you.” I pushed away my anger over that comment and instead took a heavy pull from my beer. A part of me was completely prepared to throttle him for bringing Dayna up when all I wanted to do was forget. I wasn’t sure why I felt so cut up about her loss. I hadn’t seen her in years and after one quick encounter, I was already too invested in her. But I didn’t think I needed to relax more. I’d been doing far too much of nothing in the past few months. If anything, I wanted to act. I wanted to be doing something, anything, instead of sitting around and waiting for Carson to decide the next move. “So? Will you?” Carson persisted. “I’ll think about it,” I reluctantly agreed. The truth was, I knew that a girl like Dayna had no business associating with a guy like me. Even when we were younger, her mother had told me to make sure she knew nothing of the club, and I’d kept my promise. Even though we were both older and I’d gone down the path I’d spent most of my life resenting or trying to avoid, a part of me still wanted to protect her. Save her from the kind of life I was now fully immersed in. Still, Carson could be right. Maybe I should go talk things over with her, see where her head was at. Maybe she had another reason for never getting back to me. Maybe this entire time I had completely overreacted and she was sitting at home, sick out of her brain and drinking chicken soup. The thought seemed entirely unlikely, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. With that in mind, I decided to pay her a visit to see what was going on. Worst-case scenario, she’d say no, but I’d get to look at her gorgeous face for a little while. To me, that wasn’t a bad trade off at all.

Chapter Five Dayna I was getting desperate. It had been an entire week since I’d seen Jett and ignored his job offer and I was really beginning to regret taking my mother’s advice. How hard was it to find a job? I’d applied to everything I could get my hands on and nothing. Not a single call back. When I’d agreed to stay away from Jett I was upset at first about leaving an old friend, but I didn’t even consider that I wouldn’t be able to get another job offer. Three weeks we had been in Waco and I knew we couldn’t live on Mom’s tips forever. Especially since I wanted to leave the hotel as soon as possible. Waco was a small town, and not many people were hiring. Most folk already had their hands full, or business wasn’t good enough that they could afford to take on anyone else. I understood that, I really did. But that didn’t mean that I didn’t spend every day perusing the ads and praying that by some miracle there would be another job opening. I should’ve called Jett last week and at least told him that I couldn’t take the job. But I knew, as soon as I started speaking to him my ‘no’ would turn into a ‘yes of course I’ll take the job.’ How could I resist a face like his? How could anyone? The fact that I didn’t call left me feeling guiltier that I thought it would, especially since I hadn’t found a job yet. If I had, at least I could have used that excuse. As it was, I’d been holed up in the hotel for days, praying I wouldn’t run into him. Waco was small enough that I knew, especially with my bad luck, I would meet him the second I set foot out the door. Just as the thought crossed my mind, a firm knock sounded throughout the room, slightly worrying me as I walked hesitantly over to the peephole. Could my luck really be that bad? I swung the door open to reveal Jett and I knew in that moment that my luck was apparently worse than I’d ever imagined. Somehow, he was looking more rugged and handsome than I remembered, and I’d been thinking about him a lot. He was in loose jeans and a fitted white V-neck, leaning against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. “Jett,” I breathed out and then winced. Clearing my throat, I asked, “What are you doing here?” He stepped around me and invited himself inside, taking a few steps and surveying the room as if he had a right to do so. I was immediately ashamed and slightly angry at his audacity. This place was all we could afford and I didn’t need someone like him judging us for it. “Jett?” I demanded, a little harder this time. “Why are you here?” Turning to me, he said, “You told me you were staying here. Last week, remember?”

“I remember,” I confirmed, slightly uncomfortable that he’d come all the way down here. “I thought I’d check anyway, in case you were lying about this too.” He sounded casual enough but I was instantly on guard. “Excuse me?” “If you didn’t want the job, a simple phone call would’ve been enough. Just so I could start looking for someone else.” “Jett, I’m sorry, I really am. And I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted the job, I just … some things happened that were a little unexpected. I should’ve called.” “Yeah, you should’ve. So, what happened?” I shifted uncomfortably on the spot, wishing there was some furniture in the room so that we could at least be seated for this conversation. “Nothing, really,” I hedged. There was no way I could tell him that my mother had told me to stay away from him. “You’ve been listening to town talk, haven’t you? Is that why you didn’t call me?” When I refused to meet his eyes, he continued. “I should’ve known. Dayna, you should’ve come to me and we could’ve talked about it.” “I’m sorry. It was my mom, she told me that it wouldn’t be the best idea to get involved with the club.” “Now that, I can believe.” I took a step closer, not being able to stand the distance. Placing a hand on his arm, I waited until he snapped his gaze to my own. “Is it true?” I asked gently. Even after all my mother said, I couldn’t help but want confirmation. After all, I couldn’t spend my life listening to town gossip. Especially since I knew a lot of it was a load of crap. There was a small part of me that couldn’t reconcile the two versions of Jett that I knew. All I wanted was some answers and who better to ask. “It’s true. A few months ago, when Dad died.” I couldn’t take the broken look in his eyes, something about it calling to me in a way I didn’t understand. I lifted my hand to cup his cheek in the hopes of providing even an ounce of comfort and surprisingly he didn’t pull away. “I remember him. He was a good man. I’m sorry for what happened.” He let out a bitter scoff at that. “Yeah me too, Dayna.”

“How ... how did it happen?” I couldn’t help but ask. From what I knew and remembered of Billy Walker, he was a kind-hearted man. I couldn’t imagine someone murdering him. But since I’d never even known he was a biker, I supposed my opinion hardly counted. Jett pulled away from my touch at my question, leaving me feeling strangely cold and alone, and began pacing. “It was a drug deal gone wrong. Have you heard of Joe Slattery?” I shook my head. “He’s the president of the Succubus MC. We’ve always had a rivalry with them but it was never as bad as now. He sabotaged the deal that my dad was on that night. They shot my dad in the chest. Three times.” Jett had turned his face away from me as he spoke and I pretended to ignore his audible swallow and the slight tremor in his voice. “So, you joined the club?” I asked. I couldn’t really understand why he’d made that leap. “Yeah. I never wanted that to be a part of my life, but it’s different now. My uncle is a good man, he wants to avenge my father like I do.” At least I wasn’t totally clueless. I’d had a hard time grasping at the idea of a younger Jett being even remotely interested in a motorcycle club, and it was nice to know that I wasn’t wrong. But upon hearing his plans of vengeance, I realized just how much he must have changed over the years. I breathed a deep sigh and this time I turned away from him. “Look, Jett. I understand why you're angry, I really do. But I really don’t think I should be involved in—” “Oh really? You understand?” He was advancing on me know, striding forward quickly and forcing me to retreat until my back was firmly pressed against the wall. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but the unmistakable rage in his eyes and his cold exterior was beginning to frighten me. He was almost trembling with rage, his anger reminding me of a different man in a different life. “What could you possibly understand?” he shouted. At this point, I was no longer in the room with Jett; instead, I was bombarded by memories of my life before. My stepfather’s scowling face as he raised his fists to my cheek, my paralyzing fear as I lay on the ground and his heavy boots kicked my stomach again and again, the shouts of my mother that could be heard from rooms away, but worst of all, his acidic breath and shiver-inducing voice that would whisper in my ear, “Scream for me, Princess.” I didn’t even realize that my eyes were squeezed shut, a lone tear dripping down my face, shaking like a leaf and both hands brought up to shield my face from the anticipated onslaught.

“Dayna!” A voice was shouting but I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t open my eyes. “Dayna!” it repeated. There were hands caressing my faces and a calming voice whispering nonsensical things in my ear. “You're okay, you're okay. Open those beautiful eyes for me, darlin’.” My breathing slowed and I was still once more, though I still refused to open my eyes. The memories were so real. “Dayna?” This time the voice seemed to break through my barriers. I knew I recognized it, associated it with something that wasn’t pain and violence. “Jett?” I whispered brokenly. I finally pried my eyes open to find both his hands clutching my face, forcing my gaze to his even as I frantically tried to look everywhere else. Realizing where I was and what I was doing, my actions in the past few minutes came back to me in a flood of shame and embarrassment. “Uh- sorry,” I stammered. “I wasn’t- I didn’t realize…” “Don’t be sorry,” Jett said adamantly. “Tell me what happened.” “I was just- I remembered … I don’t really know.” My knees felt weak and I was struggling to focus on anything. It had felt so real, more than real. “You know I would never hurt you, right?” Jett said gently, watching my face intently. I nodded absently, not really listening or understanding. “Here,” Jett grabbed my shoulders and led me to the bed, sitting me down. He walked to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water, sitting beside me and letting me lean my body weight into him while I tipped back the glass. Feeling marginally better, I leaned further into Jett and placed my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” “Stop saying sorry,” he grumbled. “Tell me that you're okay.” “I’m okay,” I insisted. “Good. Now tell me again when you mean it.” I laughed once before falling silent again. “I hope you know what you're doing,” I said.

“I know what you're thinking, but I’m not being stupid,” he said. “Carson already gave me an earful bout being reckless and acting too soon. I'm biding my time for now.” “Okay.” I couldn’t argue with that and I doubted that I could stop him, no matter how hard I tried. We fell silent once more and I couldn’t help but appreciate how content I felt in his company. It wasn’t just a nostalgic feeling, a remnant of our youth. It went deeper than that. I was coming to find that I liked the older Jett just as much as the younger one, and that scared the hell out of me. “Did you ever end up finding another job?” he asked. “No, unfortunately. It’s been a lot harder than I expected.” “You know … the offer is still open if you want it.” I was shocked. “Are you serious?” “Everyone deserves a shot. Let me know if you want it.” I hesitated for a moment, running through my options. Could I really afford to refuse his help again? “Okay. I’ll really think about it and this time I promise I’ll call.” He let out a lighthearted chuckle and I felt my chest constrict a bit. I could spend hours listening to that laugh. In fact, I could spend hours with Jett. And that was a dangerous thought. “I better head off,” he said, getting up. I walked him to the door and waved him off, thanking him for coming around and trusting me enough to tell me the truth. Closing the door behind me, I leant my back against it, smiling like a maniac even though he’d left. Maybe things were starting to look up after all. The only thing left was talking to my mother about it, and I was not looking forward to that at all.

Chapter Six Jett I was surprised when Dayna showed up at the shop the very next day, bright and early. She was smiling widely, as wide as the last time she was here. In a way, seeing her so happy reminded me of her panic attack the day before. I’d never been so helpless in my life, just trying to calm her down from her invisible demons. It made me wonder just exactly had happened to make her have an attack like that. I knew I’d need to ask her about it sooner or later but I didn’t know if I could bring myself to do it. Awful scenarios were swimming around in my head and it took a lot of effort to dispel them. “Dayna,” I greeted. “Hey,” she smiled. “I’m here to accept your offer, if it’s still on the table?” I grinned widely at her. Of course it was still on the table. I’d lied yesterday when I said that I needed to start looking for someone else. In a town like Waco where you knew everyone, it wasn’t hard to accept that nobody wanted the job. There was literally no other option. Still, that didn’t mean that I wasn’t pleased Dayna was the only one going for it. “Great, come with me,” I said. I was more than happy to be having her around, and it didn’t hurt that she was easy on the eyes too. She followed me through the shop and into the office out back. The garage was one big rectangle with plenty of room for me to work, but the office was mainly an afterthought. Built as a small room coming off one of the walls. It was a little cramped with only enough room for a desk and a filing cabinet. I led her inside and reached for a gigantic stack of papers that I’d left on the floor. I couldn’t really remember how long they’d been accumulating for, but let’s just say that I hate filing. A solid thud sounded out as I dropped the mountain of papers onto the desk, not because it was necessary but because it entertained me to no end. I turned back to look at Dayna and the expression on her face was a mixture of shock and disbelief. Exactly as I’d predicted. The job really wouldn’t be that hard, I just needed some basic filing and sorting done, something I’d do myself if I had more time. The real hassle was that all the files now had to go digital, and so I had to log all the documents into the system. This was where Dayna came in. It wasn’t rocket science, but it was something that I was definitely glad I didn’t have to do.

“So, does that make sense?” I asked, after I was finished explaining everything. “I’ll get right on it, boss!” She chirped. Shaking my head in amusement, I left her to it and returned to the bike I was working on. Luckily for me, I had an excellent view of the office from my bike, and so an excellent view of Dayna bending over to file things, or biting her lip in concentration. Man, I could get used to this. ### It was just after lunch when Mike came in. I’d known Mike for about five years, a son of one of the guys in the club. He was one of my best friends, surprisingly trying to dissuade me from joining the club a few months back. I never understood why, considering he was in the club himself. “Mike. How’s the bike?” I asked pointedly, noting its absence and realizing that he wasn’t here for business. In the corner of my vision, I could see Dayna perk up at his entrance. Unfortunately, Mike noticed, too. “What do we have here?” He said, eyeing Dayna up and down. She blushed and looked away and I could feel my blood boil. “Mike, this is Dayna. Dayna, Mike,” I bit out shortly. “Hey, gorgeous,” Mike drawled out, extending a hand to her. Dayna approached him and placed a delicate hand in his. I rolled my eyes when Mike lifted her hand up and kissed the top of her fingers. “Alright, that’s enough. Mike, this is a workplace, what do you want?” “Interesting choice of words there, Jett. You could say that I want a lot of things, starting with the beauty standing beside us.” I let out a quiet growl and he raised his hands up in placation. “Whoa, down boy. Just wanted to drop by, see how you're doing. You’ve been cooped up in here for months.” “Much appreciated,” I muttered, turning away. “Nice of you to stop by, you know where the door is.” “Jett!” Dayna chastised.

“Yeah, Jett!” Mike repeated. “Fine, we’ll go out tonight. Okay?” “Perfect,” Mike grinned. He turned and waltzed right back out the door, but was only gone for a second before his head appeared again. “Do you want to come too, gorgeous?” he asked Dayna. “No thanks, I have to be somewhere. Next time?” “I’ll hold you to that.” And with one last wink he disappeared again. Dayna was about to return to her office when I called her name. “What’re you doing tonight?” “Well … nothing really. I just need to talk with my mom.” I deflated a little on the inside. “Is she not happy about you working here?” She winced a little and didn’t meet my gaze. “She knows she can’t stop me. I just want to make sure she’s still okay.” I nodded absently and we both turned back to our corners of the shop. Strangely enough, I felt like I was a kid again. I remembered a time when parents used to tell their kids not to hang out with biker scum like me. It hurt at the time, still did. Back then, I had Dayna as my biggest champion. And now … thinking about her mother and her opinion of me made me wonder just how much she’d changed. Kelly Blake used to be part of Hell’s Raiders, and was really close to my dad. I could still remember being six years old and asking her if she was my mom because of how much time she spent around my dad. I still remembered her voice, clear as day, “Jett, sweetie. No, I ain’t your momma, but you can sure as hell be my son.” It struck me then that Kelly didn’t just leave Waco behind when she upped and moved with Dayna. She left my dad behind, the club behind, family behind. All to protect her daughter. Maybe I was being selfish. I looked over to the office to see Dayna bent over the computer, her eyes flicking up at that exact moment and her lips stretching into a reassuring smile. Yeah, I was being selfish. But I couldn’t find it in me to

care. ### It was about closing time on our first day working together and if I’d had any doubt earlier, I didn’t anymore. Dayna was perfect. Not loud when I needed to concentrate, but not deadly silent either. She got everything done and didn’t even need to ask me any questions apart from at the beginning. This was going to work out fine. She was shuffling around, grabbing her handbag and preparing to leave when something occurred to me. “Dayna?” I asked her. “Yeah, Jett?” “You never told me what yesterday was about. You know, when I was in the hotel room?” “Oh,” she said, looking down and refusing to meet my eyes. I had no idea why she seemed embarrassed. Something had obviously happened to her and she was still feeling the after effects. That wasn’t her fault. “Mom and I didn’t have the best time after we moved away.” “What do you mean?” I asked, hoping she’d elaborate. I’d already gathered that she’d gone through something, but I had no idea what. “Well … Mom remarried after we moved. A guy named Tim. He was … nice. At first. Then things got a little out of hand. He wasn’t happy that we were always around. It was Mom he hit the most, I didn’t usually get the brunt of it.” The way she spoke, as if it wasn’t a big deal, set me on edge. All I wanted to do was find the bastard and beat him to death. Maybe then he’d learn that it wasn’t right to hit a woman. “Mom and I stayed with him for a while after. I think she just kept hoping that he’d go back to how he was before. It was years before she realized that he wouldn’t. One day, Mom just snapped. Told me to pack some bags and said that we were moving.” “So, that’s when you came back?” I asked. “Yeah. But I think Mom just wanted a reminder of better times, you know?” Unable to help myself, I strode forward and pulled her into my arms. “You’re safe now. Especially with me. You know that, right?” She nodded into my chest and released a heavy sigh, one that I knew she had to have been holding for a

while. I had no idea when she burst into my shop a week ago that we would end up like this. I didn’t know what it was but all I wanted to do was protect her. A squeezed my arms a little tighter around her, hoping she’d understand something that I’d never know how to say. I couldn’t ever take away her pain, but maybe I could try and make her feel better, even just a little bit.

Chapter Seven Dayna I was in the office again, two weeks after I had first started and I loved it. It felt so good to have a job again, to be earning again, to get out of the hotel. It was pretty busy in the shop most of the time and Jett had me greeting most people when they came in, setting appointments and doing all the payments. It was a lot easier on him and it gave me more to do, which I was grateful. I had a feeling that the job opening was only for a few weeks until the office was sorted, and that Jett was just trying to help me get back on my feet. I met a lot of people in the town this way. A lot of them treated me exactly the same as Mike did in his first visit. I was flattered mostly. My stepfather worked hard to make sure I didn’t have much of a life, so the attention kind of thrilled me. Jett was opening up a bit more, too. We talked about our lives before, what we liked and the people in town. Often when it was quiet, I would bring my work out of the office and sit on a stool beside Jett as he worked on a bike, music playing from the stereo, neither of us talking, just enjoying the company. It helped that a lot of the time he had his shirt off and I traced his tattoos with my eyes. “Hey Jett?” I asked a few days earlier. “Yeah?” he replied. “What do your tattoos mean?” I thought he wasn’t going to answer for a long time, but then he finally did. He turned so his bare chest was to me and grabbed both my hands in his. Taking my right hand, he placed my fingertips gently on his chest and traced them up and around his spiral tattoo. “This is a symbol for hope and better futures,” he explained. He moved to my left hand and placed it on his arm, tracing the design spanning from shoulder to wrist. “This is a symbol for patience and a calm mind.” He turned around so his back was to me, loosening his grip on my hands. I placed my fingertips on his shoulder blades, tracing the lines to the base of his spine. “And this one?” ‘That one … that one is a symbol for revenge.”

### Mike entered the shop in the late afternoon, just before we were about to close up for the night. “Dayna, gorgeous, are you coming out tonight?” “Coming out where?” I asked, confused. “We’re going to a bar,” Jett said from behind me, almost making me jump. “Oh. I don’t know…” I said hesitantly. I wasn’t really sure if they wanted some guy time and I didn’t really want to intrude. “Come on!” Mike begged. “Last time you said you would.” “I know but—” “You should come,” Jett interrupted, and I felt my heart pound a little harder. “Sure, why not,” I conceded. “I knew you’d be sick of hanging out with just this one for the past few weeks,” Mike hitched a thumb over his shoulder to point at Jett. I resisted the urge to laugh at Jett’s scowling face and followed the boys to the bar down the street. It was pretty full for a Tuesday night and I recognised most of the customers from the shop. We headed to the bar where Mike ordered shots for us all. “Uh, just water for me thanks,” I interrupted before Mike could finish. “And a beer for me,” said Jett. Mike glared at us but conceded to a beer as well. We moved further into the bar to a booth at the back because Mike and Jett both claimed that it was ‘their’ spot. I slid in first and Mike went to slide in beside me but was unceremoniously knocked out of the way and shoved to the opposite side of the booth by Jett. “There needs to be a table separating any female from him,” Jett explained. “It’s for your own protection.” I laughed a little at Mike’s pout but was happy with the arrangement nonetheless.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like Mike. He was a great guy, but somehow, I knew that he wasn’t really interested in me at all. “So, do you remember anyone here?” Jett asked me. I looked around, trying to see if I could remember anyone from my childhood. Sure enough, on the other side of the room there was a beast of a man with a completely shaved head and an arrow tattoo on his forehead. “Is that Mack?” I said excitedly, pointing to the giant. Jett nodded with a smile, knowing how amazed I used to be as a little kid. He looked aggressive on the outside but on the inside Mack was the nicest man I knew, a complete marshmallow. “How do you know Mack?” Mike asked. “I used to live here when I was younger actually. Mack used to let me ride around on his shoulders and pretend he was my unicorn.” Mike burst out into laughter. “Mack let you do that? No way.” “Mack’s a softie,” I insisted, looking to Jett for confirmation. “It’s true,” he agreed. “Wait, you two knew each other back then?” Mike used his finger to gesture between the two of us. I nodded and took another sip of water. “I used to follow him around until he let me hang out with him.” “I didn’t mind,” Jett said softly from behind me. “Sure, you didn’t,” I laughed awkwardly. It still kind of embarrassed me to think about how I used to run around at his heels like a lost puppy. On the car ride from town, I cried for a solid fourteen hours at the thought of leaving behind my best friend. “No really.” Jet placed a hand on my thigh under the table and I gulped at the contact, though I knew it was only meant to be reassuring. “So, when did you leave town?” Mike interrupted and I jolted slightly. I could have sworn that Jett was slightly disorientated too, as if he forgot for a moment that Mike was here with us as well, but I must have imagined it. “When I was eight, so a long time ago.” I took another gulp of my water and prayed to God that he changed the subject.

“Mike got here about five years ago,” Jett interjected, as if sensing my discomfort. “Oh really?” “My mom never told me who my dad was until I was eighteen. Told me she used to be a club girl. I was shocked to say the least. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to come and tell my dad I existed. I got here and I never left.” Jett smirked at this. “I think you're forgetting a very important bit of information, Mike.” Mike grinned widely. “Mack’s my old man.” “No!” I gasped. I brought my hand up to cover my mouth as my eyes flickered between them. I turned to Jett and raised my brows in question and he nodded in confirmation. At that moment, Mack turned and saw us sitting at the table, extracted himself from the women clinging onto him and headed over. “Dayna? Is that you?” “Hi Mack!” I grinned up at him. I slid around Jett and out of the booth, running up to the man and jumping straight into his arms. I was engulfed in his embrace and I had to bite back the strong urge to cry. “I heard you and your mom were back in town. Jesus, kid. You're all grown up.” “You too, Mack. I’ll come visit sometime, I swear.” “You better,” he commanded. “Hey son, Jett,” he greeted. I wasn’t sure if I imagined it but Mike’s whole body seemed to inflate at being called ‘son’ and my heart went out to him. Mack gave me one last kiss on the forehead before he headed off. “More drinks?” Mike asked. “I’ll get them,” said Jett. “I don’t trust you to not bring back tequila.” Mike and I sat back down in the booth. He peered at me curiously and I had a strong urge to demand what his problem was. “What?” I said exasperatedly, finally not being able to take it anymore. “You and Jett,” he said simply.

“What about me and Jett?” He tutted and rolled his eyes. “Are you going to get together or what?” “What? Jett?” I shouted, my voice raising a few octaves. “You can’t be serious.” “What’s wrong with him?” Mike frowned. “Jett’s … Jett. And he isn’t interested in me at all.” I shook my head vehemently at him, trying to make him understand. “Alright, whatever you say,” he conceded with a sigh, slumping back in his chair. Excusing myself to go to the bathroom, I navigated my way through the throng of people, heading towards the neon sign that read ‘ladies.’ Halfway there, a larger man stumbled and tripped into me, his entire body weight sending me reeling back several paces. I righted myself before I fell, grateful that I hadn’t been wearing heels today, and tried to keep walking. Unfortunately, the man had now noticed that he’d jostled me and was now slurring something incomprehensible at me. “It’s okay,” I said politely, attempting to move around him. He placed a hand on my arm and pulled me back in a surprisingly strong grip. The movement sent me lurching towards him and soon enough his arms were both around me, the pungent scent of the alcohol on his breath hitting me full force. “Where are you going?” he managed to slur, or at least I think that was what he was trying to say. “Let go of me, please,” my voice was not as sharp as I intended for it to be and I realised that I was breathing heavily, as if I’d run a marathon. I prayed that I wasn’t about to have another panic attack, even as I felt the man’s hands constrict around me. Logically, I knew if that there were other people around and all I needed to do was scream so that someone would pull him off me. But I seemed to have lost my voice, frozen in fear and unable to think clearly. “Stop,” a voice grumbled over my shoulder. I craned my neck to see Jett standing right behind me, a fierce look on his face. “Jett!” the man said. In his confusion, the man’s grip loosened around me and I quickly extracted myself

from his arms, shuffling backwards until I hit Jett’s firm chest and his familiar scent washed over me. “If it was anyone but you, Bobby, you’d be nursing much more than a hangover tomorrow,” Jett said angrily. He slipped an arm around my shaking shoulders and led me back to the Mike. “What’s happened?” he asked. “Take care of Bobby,” Jett said instead. “I’m taking Dayna home.” Mike nodded, though I could tell he was confused. He opened his mouth but closed it again at the sight of Jett’s face, walking off without a word. “Let’s go, Dayna,” Jett whispered softly into my ear. His arms were gentle but solid at the same time, a reminder that I could count on him but that he’d never hurt me. I turned back just before we left the bar and caught Mike’s eye from the other side of the room. He seemed to have a knowing smile on his face as he winked at me. I frowned back but he disappeared from view as Jett and I stepped into the cool night air outside the bar. “Are you okay?” Jett asked, eyes seeming to stare into my soul, hands on my shoulders. “I’m fine,” I said, tired beyond belief all of a sudden. I rolled my eyes at Jett’s look. “Really.” He nodded, though still looking unconvinced. “Let’s take you home.”

Chapter Eight Jett It was the day after the bar incident and Dayna and I were at the shop again, working side by side in companionable silence like we always did. Today felt a little different though. I wasn’t sure if she was thinking on last night, or if she was just tired, but there was definitely something wrong. She was distant. Answering questions but not really engaging. Worst of all, her usual radiant smile had dimmed somewhat. It didn’t reach her eyes anymore and somehow, I could tell it was mostly forced for my benefit. I had a feeling she would talk about it when she was ready so I kept to my bikes, hoping she would open up soon. Every time I looked up I could feel her eyes on me, burning into me, before she quickly flicked them away. If it wasn’t for the fact that I barely wore a shirt when I was working on my bikes, then I would be starting to feel self-conscious. After a few hours of this I was ready to break the silence and ask her what was wrong, but she beat me to it. “Jett.” She opened her mouth to speak but then seemed to think better of it and shut it again. “Dayna, I know something’s wrong. You’ve been acting strange all day. Was it what happened last night?” “No, that’s not it.” “Then what’s going on?” “I’m worried about you, Jett,” she said in a rush. “Me?” I said, confused. What did this have to do with me? “Is revenge really all that important to you?” I understood immediately where she was going with this and I could practically feel all my muscles growing solid and my face hardening. “Yes. It is important, more than you’ll ever know.” I wasn’t sure why she was bringing this up again. I thought she understood. The last time we’d gotten into it had resulted in a panic attack and I would do whatever it took to avoid another one.

Dayna took a deep breath, seeming to come to a conclusion before she spoke next. “You know, there’s a difference between avenging your father and just plain old revenge. I know I shouldn’t listen to talk but this time I couldn’t help it. You're going after them, aren’t you? The Succubus MC? And that guy, Joe Slattery?” I didn’t answer, not able to meet her gaze. I couldn’t admit to something like that to someone as innocent as she was. I knew it was hard for her to comprehend, especially considering she’d spent years around so much violence from her stepdad. I didn’t want to take her back to that. That was why I was hesitant to involve her in the first place. Everything about her screamed that she was better than me in every way. I didn’t want to bring her down to my level. In saying that, she’d never understand that sometimes violence was necessary. Sometimes violence was the only way forward. “What are you planning on doing, killing him? Why not get the police involved and they can—” “The police won’t do anything!” I interrupted. This was the real difference between Dayna and me. I was willing to get my hands dirty and do things my own way to get the results I wanted. I’d learned far too young that the cops often wouldn’t do anything when it came to certain members of society. “Don’t you understand? Guys like my father don’t mean anything to them. To them, he was just a worthless biker, a gang member, trash. I need to do this. I’m the only one that will.” “Jett…” she said carefully, and I couldn’t help but think that I hated how everyone seemed to tiptoe around me. Why could nobody understand that Joe Slattery had taken my father from me and he was never coming back. How could I live with myself if I didn’t go after him? “I’m still worried about you,” she confessed. “What if something happens to you? What if you get hurt?” Surprised by the change, I didn’t move as she came closer and placed a hand on my cheek. “What would I do without you?” she whispered. I could feel my heart pounding wildly in my chest. I knew she was just being a friend but I still had trouble suppressing the urge to slam my lips onto hers. The lines were being blurred more and more every day, and I wanted to blur them even further. Claim her, make her mine. I pushed my desire away, which, surprisingly, took a considerable effort. “I’ll be fine, Dayna. You don’t need to worry about me.” “If I don’t then who will?” I sighed and closed my eyes, tilting my head further into her hand and relishing in the contact. Yeah, I could really lose myself in her.

“I have the club at my back. And Carson knows what he’s doing, he’s been around longer than anyone gives him credit for.” Carson had been involving himself more and more in my life the past few weeks, asking especially about Dayna. He’d wanted to know if she’d started working for me and if there was more going on between us. I immediately crushed that possibility when it came up with him. There was no way a girl like Dayna should be stuck with a guy like me. Any anyway, I couldn’t afford a distraction that big. Carson had been trying to convince me for days that a distraction was what I needed right now, to get my mind off the time we had to wait before we could strike. It was strange that my uncle was being so persistent but it was nice to know that he had my best interests at heart. Dayna leaned further into me, nestling her head into the crook of my neck. She was so close, I could hear her breathing, feel her chest move up and down against mine. I looked down to see her eyes were closed, as if it were a normal occurrence for her to be resting on me. She looked as if she could drift off to sleep at any moment, giving me a strange sense of satisfaction that I could make her feel so safe. “Does this mean you’ll stop worrying about me?” I asked, trying to make her smile. It worked somewhat, though the smile was weak. “Never,” she said, a fierce undertone to her words. “Jett, you have to promise you won’t get rid of me. I know what you’ll convince yourself of later on, but you have to tell me everything. I don’t want to wake up one morning to find that you're gone and know that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me your plans.” Gazing into her eyes, I was struck by her concern for me. It had been a long time since someone had cared as much as she did. “I promise.” “Good,” she said, looking up at me, her face so very close to my own. I clenched my jaw tight against the strong desire to bend forward, just a little, to kiss her sultry lips. Instead I pulled back from her embrace. I’d been thinking on it a while, especially since my uncle had been so adamant about knowing her and how she fit into my life. If she was going to be involved with everything, if she was going to know everything, especially considering it was club business, then Carson had to talk with her. “I think it’s time that you meet with my uncle,” I announced. “Are you sure?” She seemed hesitant. “Will he care that I know? Or do I know too much?”

I laughed away her concern. “It’ll be fine. He’s been asking about you anyway. If you're getting yourself involved, Carson needs to know. He’ll be the one to protect you if anything happens.” And I knew he would. Carson always kept his word and I knew that if I asked him to give Dayna full club protection then he would. She frowned at my words. “Will anything happen?” “Precautions, Dayna.” I tried to sound more convincing than I felt. The truth was, I had no idea if anything would happen or not. Even with all Carson’s planning, things could still go south and it wouldn’t take a genius to know that anyone could get to me if they used Dayna. I should’ve considered that ages ago, the fact that I was infinitely more vulnerable ever since I’d met Dayna, but I couldn’t find it within me to take it back. All I could hope for now was Carson to know what he was doing. Thankfully, if there was one person I could count on in this world, it was him.

Chapter Nine Dayna “Come on!” Jett urged. “You’ll have fun.” My eyes flickered between him and the death machine he was gesturing toward and I shook my head fiercely. “You work in a bike shop, you can’t be afraid of taking one out for a ride.” “Don’t you have a car?” I begged. Jett gave me a flat look and I took another few steps back. “I’ll ride slowly, I swear.” I scoffed at that. “No, you won’t. I’ve seen the crazy stunts you pull, and I know you’ve never paid attention to the speed limit.” Jett grinned broadly at me, conceding the point. “Come on, Dayna. Please get on the bike. For me?” He widened his eyes and pouted his lip slightly, something he knew I couldn’t resist. Damn that man. “Alright, alright. No need to play dirty,” I muttered sullenly. Jett swung a leg over the bike and sat comfortably on it, gesturing with one hand for me to come closer. I stood hesitantly by the bike a moment longer and Jett didn’t say anything. I knew it was a death trap in disguise but some small traitorous part of me couldn’t wait to get on the bike and be pressed up closely to Jett. Mind made up, I strode forward and repeated Jett’s actions, swinging one leg over the bike and sitting directly behind him. “Arms around me,” he demanded. I slid both hands around his waist, trying not to shiver at the close contact. Sighing in annoyance, Jett pulled my hands tighter around him, and, as a result, I was pulled further into his back so that every inch on me was pressed tightly up against him. “Ready?” he asked.

“No,” I said honestly. Jett ignored me and started the bike, a fierce rumble sounding out and one that I could feel vibrating through me. We took off and I wasn’t going to lie about how thrilling the ride felt. It was exhilarating. I could see immediately why Jett loved it, though I’d never tell him that. Besides, I had infinitely more important things to be worrying about. We were on our way to meet Carson and I didn’t think I’d been so nervous about anything in a long while. I wasn’t even sure why. I’d met Carson Walker before when I was a kid. He seemed nice enough from what I remembered. But it was a lot different now. It was years later for one thing, and he was now the president of a biker club. I had also been nervous ever since Jett had told me that Carson had been asking after me. I racked my brains trying to think of why he’d want me but came up blank. I supposed I would find out today if anything was the matter. Jett and I arrived at Carson’s house and both of us got off the motorcycle. Jett looked at me with a raised brow and judging by the look on his face, my cover was blown. “You loved it, didn’t you?” He smirked arrogantly. “I hated it, it was awful,” I said stubbornly. There was no way that I would ever admit defeat. We walked to the front door or Carson’s large house and stood there waiting for him to answer. I’d heard the conversation on the phone when Jett called his uncle to let him know we were coming, but Jett was being purposefully vague in everything he said. I hoped that Carson wouldn’t mind us coming over. After all, I was all but a stranger to him, asking to be let into his life and business. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was angry that Jett had decided to involve me. We only waited at the door for a few moments until it swung open to reveal who I could only assume to be Carson. He matched my memory of him completely, though slightly older. He was middle aged, slightly shorter than Jett with greying hair and a trimmed beard. It struck me all of a sudden how similar he looked to Jett’s dad, Billy. I felt a sudden wave of empathy for Jett, knowing that every time he saw his uncle he would undoubtedly be reminded of his dad too. It had to be hard on Carson too, looking in the mirror and seeing your dead brother. “Dayna,” Carson greeted. “Look at you, all grown up. It’s been too long.” “Nice to see you again, Carson,” I replied shyly. “Yes, hi Carson,” Jett interrupted. “Can we move this inside?” Carson narrowed his eyes at his nephew but opened the door wider and led us into the sitting room. I followed Jett’s lead and sat on the sofa beside him. It was a wide, open space, a lot bigger than what I

expected would suit a single man. I could imagine a man like Carson living here, though I could never picture someone like Jett here. It was too pristine and it didn’t look lived-in. Jett was rugged and all rough edges. There was no way he would be happy in a place like this. We sat in silence for a moment and it occurred to me that everyone was waiting for someone else to speak. Finally, Carson broke the silence. “So, what’s this all about?” he asked. “Jett didn’t say much on the phone.” “Dayna wants to know about Slattery and what we’re going to do about it.” Way to cut to the chase, I thought. Resisting the urge to glare at Jett, I forced myself to stay calm under Carson’s gaze. Obviously, Jett knew his uncle better than me but I would’ve appreciated easing into the situation. Carson paused a moment, flicking his eyes between Jett and me. He seemed to be studying both of us. “Are you sure, son?” I felt Jett tense up beside me, and I figured it had something to do with being called ‘son.’ I couldn’t believe that his uncle didn’t realise that it was strange for him to say that so soon after Jett’s father’s death. Although perhaps it was something he’d always said, or didn’t realise he was saying. “I’m sure,” Jett answered instantly. His lack of hesitation warmed me, even though he’d already demonstrated that he trusted me. Carson frowned, looking again between the two of us. Apparently, he had reached some sort of decision because he nodded once and continued. “Well alright then. What do you know about Joe Slattery?” Carson asked me. “Just that he’s the president of the Succubus MC.” “That’s true. He’s also ruthless and dangerous. That’s important to know. A few months ago, Billy was out making a deal with the Mexican drug cartel. It wasn’t anything particularly dangerous, or it shouldn’t have been.” He paused a moment and took a sip of his beer. Jett was sitting stoically beside me, though he seemed a little tense. I wondered just how many times he’d heard this story, and how many times he had to relive it every time somebody asked. For a moment, I wished that I wasn’t so selfish and that I’d left him well alone. Only for a moment though, before I remembered that I couldn’t imagine what I’d do without him now. “It was confusing for us all at the time,” Carson continued. “I later obtained some inside information about what really happened that night. It seems that Joe Slattery sabotaged the deal that night. He told Javier Gomez, the man who runs the cartel, that Billy was a snitch. You won’t know anything about Gomez, but he’s a cold-hearted bastard. He won’t tolerate much, but he especially won’t tolerate anyone who snitches. That’s the reason Billy died that night, because Joe Slattery fed false intel to Gomez.”

“But … why?” I asked. “Why would he want to do that? “Money, power. We’ve had a rivalry going with them for years, but since Gomez moved into town it’s been worse. He’s been looking to expand his drug cartel in the area and both our clubs have been trying to secure a deal with him.” “So, what now? You're planning on killing Slattery?” I asked. It disgusted me that we were talking about this so casually, as if another man’s life wasn’t on the line. I’d said I was on board with whatever Jett was planning and I meant it. I just wasn’t quite ready to accept all the facts. “He killed my brother. I won’t rest until he’s dead.” Carson was in full biker mode now, making me understand why he had taken over the role of president. This was the first time I’d seen him come close to Jett’s desire for vengeance and it was a little frightening. I shuffled closer to Jett and he instinctively put an arm around me. “But we have to be patient,” Carson continued. “I don’t want a war between our clubs, we have too much to lose and I value our men. Slattery will be expecting our retaliation immediately so we’ll have to lay low for a while. When enough time passes and he lets down his guard, that’s when we’ll strike.” It made sense, but I wasn’t too confident that Slattery would just let down his guard after a while. I mean, killing a club president was a big deal. Surely, he would be on guard for many more months, years even. But maybe he was cockier than I thought him to be. We talked for a bit longer about lighter topics but I was too preoccupied by what Carson had said. Sensing that I wasn’t in the mood to stay longer, Jett excused us and we left his uncle’s house. I was quiet on the ride home, still mulling things over. If Mom could see me now, I had no doubt that she would be so disappointed. But it was my choice. And I’d decided to put my faith in Jett. “Dayna?” “Hmm?” I said absentmindedly, turning to Jett. “I know that it isn’t easy for you to stay by me. I know what you’re sacrificing, with your mom and everything. I just wanted to say thank you.” It was times like this that I knew I’d made the right choice. It didn’t matter what people in town said about Jett. I knew he was the kindest man I’d ever met, and I would stand by him no matter what. As much as it pained me to admit, I respected Jett for his determination. And I understood vengeance. I understood a strong desire for retribution, even if that meant hurting people in the process. But I also knew that Jett needed to rise above it. In a perfect world, justice would be meted out without revenge, and I knew Jett could learn to live with

that. If only he could realize that not everything was so black and white. But at the moment, I think Jett needed something to keep him going, and if this was that something, then I wouldn’t stand in his way.

Chapter Ten Jett I was glad I’d taken Dayna to meet Carson, though she’d been quiet ever since. I knew how she felt about going after Joe Slattery and I felt a strange amount of guilt about how I’d roped her into it. Though, selfishly, I was glad I did. She was moving around in her office, trying to shake off the heat. Usually in this weather, she would come out of the cramped office and sit in the fresh air. Maybe she was still processing? That didn’t really sound like Dayna, though. Once she made up her mind, she was pretty set on it. And I knew without a doubt that now that she’d become as involved as she was, she wouldn’t go back on her word. Still, I couldn’t take the risk that she’d changed her mind or was having second doubts. I knew I had to see if she was still on board with the whole thing. She was part of my life now, whether she liked it or not. “What’s wrong, Dayna?” I asked. She looked up from the computer, wide-eyed and apparently having not noticed that I’d stepped into her office. That was another indicator something was wrong. She was never that immersed in her work. She shook her head blankly, lips struggling to form words before she blew out a frustrated breath. “It’s my mom,” she said finally, looking down even as she said it. I frowned at that. I couldn’t believe that Kelly was so against Dayna associating with me. Didn’t she remember how club life used to be? Didn’t she remember how I used to be? It hurt to think she had no trust in me at all anymore, though I supposed I deserved it. After all, I did drag her daughter into a mess that she had no right to be involved in. It had been over a decade since my promise to keep her out of club business, and I’d finally broken my promise. It was irrational, but I’d hold that against myself forever. “So, she’s still not happy with you?” I asked. Dayna winced and looked away. “I haven’t really told her how involved I am yet. I’m scared she’ll assume the worst. We already have a rocky relationship, I don’t want to tear it apart.” Damn. That would be rough to explain. I’d assumed that Kelly and Dayna would have a strong relationship considering all the things they’d been through together. Though, some people thought that about my dad and I, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. “I’m sure she’ll understand once you explain. She’s your mother. Besides, talking with Carson cleared things up for you, why don’t we get your mom to meet up with him too?” Dayna paused for a moment, thinking. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?” she asked. “Well what do you have to lose?”

“I suppose you're right,” she conceded. Not having thought of it before, I just realized that tomorrow would be the first time I’d see Kelly in years. It was a small town but I still hadn’t been by the diner where she worked, though I definitely should have. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see her or that I’d been too busy because I really could have made time if I wanted. Frankly, I was scared to see her again. Especially now that I’d gotten her daughter dragged into things that she had no business being dragged into. It wasn’t even entirely club business that I’d dragged her into, though I didn’t know if that was better or worse. At least I knew it would be good for Dayna to have things cleared up with her mom. She was already looking happier than this morning, just at the prospect of telling her mom everything. “Are you okay with everything else that happened yesterday?” I asked. This was my main worry, that she’d changed her mind about me or wanted nothing to do with me. Dayna looked up at me with a soft smile, a smile that immediately eased any fears that I had, something she seemed to have a gift doing. “I wouldn’t say okay, but I’m still standing by you. You're not getting rid of me remember?” “Just checking. Do you want me to get Carson here tonight or tomorrow?” She bit her lip in thought. “Tonight’s probably a better idea. I don’t want to keep lying to her.” “Alright, I’ll call.” Carson picked up on the first ring and agreed to meet with Kelly with no hesitation. “Have you seen her yet?” “I saw her weeks ago,” he replied. “She looks really different though.” “What do you mean?” “You’ll see, son. I’ll drop by tonight.” And with that, he hung up, leaving me to wonder about his strange warning. How different could she possibly look, except for having aged twelve years? Though, the way Dayna talked about her sometimes, I wondered if I ever knew her at all. I decided that Carson was just trying to wind me up, knowing what she used to mean to me. Actually, Kelly had spent a lot of time with Carson and my dad over the years. As brothers, they used to fight between each other a lot, about themselves, about the club, and everything else under the sun.

Kelly would try to be peacemaker between them, making sure that their arguments didn’t get too heated. I didn’t think someone as kind and caring as Kelly could change so dramatically. Though, I would soon find out for sure. “Carson’s in,” I told Dayna. “We’ll go by the diner tonight.” “Thank you for doing this for me, you didn’t have to.” And I didn’t. But if this would appease Dayna, getting Carson to convince her mom that she wouldn’t be in any danger, then I’d do it. “Yes, I did.” As selfish as I was, I recognized that this was the only way to keep Dayna on my side. And for that, I’d do whatever it took.

Chapter Eleven Dayna It was strange that in the few months we’d been back in town, I still hadn’t gone to see my mother at the diner where she worked. I knew that Jett hadn’t either, something he’d told me with slight traces of shame in his voice. Walking in with Jett and Carson, I felt fresh waves of guilt roll over me as I waited for my mother to come out of the back room after her shift. She would have no idea what was waiting for her when she arrived, and I knew that I would be catching her completely off guard. I also knew that this would be the only way to stop her worrying, so I was grateful for Carson and Jett’s help. It didn’t take too long for my mom to finally appear. She spotted me instantly and rewarded me with a loving smile, probably happy that I’d come visit her and spend some time with her. Her smile faltered as she glanced at the rest of the table and noticed Jett and Carson. Her eyes flickered once over to the door and I thought for just one moment that she might leave and not listen to anything we had to say. Thankfully, her eyes returned to us and she approached our table. “Dayna, what are you doing here,” she said in a strained voice, eyeing Carson. Her gaze softened a fraction when she looked at Jett but I doubted anyone else noticed, even Jett. Sometimes I forgot that Jett and Mom used to be quite close when we were kids. I used to drag him to our house a lot so we could hang out, and looking back, I knew that she was the closest thing he’d ever had to a mother. Jett seemed to deflate slightly in his seat, though he maintained his hardened exterior. It was his eyes that gave him away. I think at that moment Mom remembered that too, but when she looked away from him again I realized how serious she was about not wanting anything to do with the Walkers. Maybe this would be harder than I thought. “Kelly, take a seat,” Carson said, gesturing to the empty spot at our table. Mom remained standing for a beat, I think mostly out of defiance, before taking the seat beside me, eyes never wavering from Carson. “What’s going on?” My mom was understandably confused, considering all she knew was that I’d taken a job at Jett’s shop. She had no idea how close I’d gotten to him or how much I knew about certain club business. “We need to talk.” “Dayna,” Mom’s eyes cut to me and they were filled with steel. It was like she had a sixth sense about what was yet to come and was already chastising me about it. “I told you not to get involved with all this.” “I tried Mom, I really did.”

Truthfully, I had tried my best to stay away from Jett, but I couldn’t help what had happened or how close we’d gotten. I hadn’t anticipated that we would become such close friends. Looking back now though, I knew that my heart had never really been in it. That was why it was probably so easy for Jett to convince me to take the job. “I can assure you Kelly that Dayna has full club protection, no one will go anywhere near her. You have my word.” My mom scoffed and met his gaze fearlessly. “Your word, huh?” She said mockingly. “I’m sure you’ll understand why that means very little to me.” I felt something pass between the two of them, but I couldn’t identify what. One look at Jett told me that he was just as confused as me. I knew that they had some type of history, back when Mom was a member of the club, but now I was wondering if there wasn’t something more at play here, something that I didn’t understand. “Talk around town is that you’re going after Joe Slattery,” Mom said. “Not yet,” Carson replied. “And you shouldn’t listen to talk.” There was a lot of veiled hostility between them, and I couldn’t understand it for the life of me. I looked to Jett and tried to communicate silently with him but he just shook his head and continued watching the dynamic between them. “You’re biding your time then? Waiting for the opportune moment?” I couldn’t understand the mocking tone to Mom’s words. It was perfectly reasonable to be patient and wait before acting, but the way Mom said it sounded like she knew something I didn’t. I vowed to speak to her after this and find out what she knew. “You know how it is,” Carson ground out. Mom turned back to me and sighed in defeat. “I never wanted this life for you. We shouldn’t have come back.” “You can’t protect me from everything, Mom. Sometimes I’m going to make my own decisions.” “I guess that means I can’t stop you from being part of this, can I?” I shook my head in the negative. “Full club protection, right Carson?” Mom confirmed, staring Carson down. “Absolutely.” “And Jett, sweetie. You’ll take care of her, too, won’t you?”

I could almost feel Jett’s emotions from the other side of the table, so strongly radiating off him. “I swear,” Jett replied instantly, and I knew it was more a vow than anything else. “Good,” Mom conceded. She looked between us once more and then stood to leave, walking out the door without a second look behind her. “Thank you for doing this,” I told Carson. He nodded in acknowledgement and I quickly bid both him and Jett goodbye, following my mother out the door. She was standing there waiting, looking ragged and exhausted, and I knew most of it wasn’t from her long shift. We stood in silence for a moment staring at each other. I waited for her to open her mouth, to say anything so that I knew she forgave me. “Be safe.” At her words, I knew everything would be okay.

Chapter Twelve Jett “Do you feel better now that she knows everything?” I asked Dayna, back in the shop the next day. “Yeah,” she smiled. “Thank you for doing that for me.” “It was … nice to see Kelly again. I wish it was under different circumstances.” It really was nice to see her, though she was entirely different from the woman I’d remembered. She looked delicate, frail in a way. I understood what Carson had meant when he said that she had completely changed. She used to be a crazy, fierce woman, always demanding, always loud, but always more caring than you deserved. I had to admit that it hurt when she acted like we were mostly strangers. I knew that it had been years, and for all intents and purposes, we didn’t even know each other. Still, the little boy in me just wanted her to go back to how she used to be. Dayna had definitely acted happier all day. Not just happier, but lighter too, as if she had a massive weight lifted off her shoulders, which I supposed she had. She walked over to the stereo, playing with it for a few moments before she switched songs to a slower melody that I didn’t recognize. “Dance with me,” she held a hand out. I eyed it curiously for half a moment before I captured it with my own, spinning her around until she was chest to chest with me. I almost couldn’t control my hands when we were this close to each other, but I refrained from touching her ass. She truly was beautiful, I thought to myself as we swayed gently to the music. “I wish I’d never left Waco,” she whispered, so silently I almost missed it. In that moment, I could practically feel the weight of another life pressing down on me. A life where she’d stayed in town and never met her stepfather, a life where I wasn’t in the club and my dad was alive, a life where we could dance every day and not worry about drug bosses and club wars. A simpler life that never came to be. “Me too,” I agreed, bending her into a dip. She let out a tiny squeal and a laugh that made me grin in response. I let her hang there for a few seconds until she protested, lifting her back into my embrace. These were the moments between us that I loved the best. The carefree ones, the moments where we had no expectations and could just be ourselves. Those moments were few and far between so I treasured them while I could. It wasn’t often that I spent time with anyone for no specific reason at all, just for the sake of being with them. It used to be that way with Mike, but I didn’t see him as often anymore. He mainly just flitted in and out of my life, sparing time when he could. I was more and more thankful each day that I’d hired Dayna for the admin job. Even more thankful that she’d accepted and stayed on. I’d had to expand the job to a reception role just to get her to stay, partly because I really just wanted to work on the bikes, but mostly because I knew she would leave otherwise.

As the song climaxed, I extended an arm out so that Dayna spun away from me, delicately twisting on her toes and raising her arms in the air like a ballerina. There was a smile fixated on her face as she closed her eyes and tipped her head back, and I knew that she was truly happy, and that I had helped make her that way. I couldn’t take it anymore. I’d spent too long staring at her every move, searing her body with my eyes and aching to slam my lips against her own. I’d spent too long admiring her perfection from afar, determined to keep my distance and not bring her too deeply into my life. But all of that didn’t seem to matter anymore. All I could see was Dayna, perfect Dayna, standing there with the light shining on her and the straps of her dress falling off the shoulder on one side, exposing her flawless skin. She’d kicked off her shoes earlier, just because she could, and something about it was strangely intimate. I realized I had just been standing there and admiring her for the past few moments. Dayna looked up into my eyes searchingly and a moment later, as if she’d come to a decision I was unaware of, she nodded and took a few steps forward. Nothing could have prepared me for both her arms wrapping around my neck and pulling my face down to hers. It was if she had read my mind and we were entirely in sync, both our thoughts tuned to the same channel. I was frozen solid for half a moment before my instincts kicked in and I realized that Dayna was kissing me. Her lips were soft, gentle, prying. I kissed her back, and immediately changed it into an epic battle of tongues, nipping, biting and sucking at her lips. I swallowed a moan as she squeezed her arms around me even tighter, pushing our lips closer. I placed both hands on her waist and pulled her flush against me, grinding my hips into hers so that she could feel my hard length. How did this happen? I prayed to some higher power that she wouldn’t pull away now and leave me aching and needing her. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that this would be what I did tonight. Dayna was hot, warm and inviting, and the perfect height so that I didn’t need to bend down very far. Rocking her hips into mine once more, she groaned again and pulled back slightly from my lips, arching her neck back. Not about to waste an opportunity, I pressed open-mouthed kisses down her neck, tracing my tongue behind her ear and smiling when I felt her whole body shudder. “Jett,” she panted. Unhappy with our skin on skin contact, I grabbed them hem of her shirt and pulled back just enough so I could rip the shirt off her body, throwing it in a far corner of the garage. Next was her bra, some flimsy thing that seemed to provide minimal coverage. Throwing that item away as well, I was met with perky breasts that spilled out of my hands as I tried to cup them. Unable to resist, I lowered my head to one dusky-rose nipple and sucked it into my mouth, pinching the other tightly between

my fingers. Dayna squirmed and muttered senseless things under her breath, arching so that her breasts were pushing further into my face, making it easier for me drag my tongue over her mounds. I pulled back a fraction to move to the other nipple, but Dayna’s hands pushed back on my shoulders. Momentarily afraid that she wanted to stop, I froze solid until she grabbed my shirt and pulled it over my head. She attacked my chest with her mouth, tracing my tattoos with her fingers, flicking my nipples with her tongue. “I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks,” she said breathlessly, just as she tongued a tattoo at the lowest point of my stomach. Before I knew it, she had dragged my jeans down enough for her hands to venture inside. I moaned in pleasure as she took out my cock. I almost smirked at the way her eyes widened and she licked her lips hungrily. She placed the tip inside her mouth, flicking her tongue over and over again. Without missing a beat, she pressed forward and swallowed more and more of my length. Dayna lifted her eyes up to mine as she continued swallowing, possibly the hottest thing I’d ever seen. She grabbed my hands, placing them on the sides of her head and I took her silent encouragement. When her delicate fingers started playing with my balls I almost exploded. Enough was enough, I decided. I maneuvered her head away from my cock and it slipped out of her mouth with a loud pop. Grabbing her under her arms, I hoisted her up until she was standing. “Skirt off,” I growled, satisfied when she gulped audibly but obeyed. She maintained eye contact as she slipped out of her skirt, pulling down the flimsy fabric inch by inch, leaving her in just her panties. Before I could demand that she continue, she turned her back to me and slowly started pulling those down as well, bending completely to the floor so that her ass was in the air. She was naked now, completely. I strode forward and took her into my arms from behind, pushing her back straight into my chest. She wiggled her ass back into my denim-clad crotch while my hands roamed her body. One was squeezing a sensitive nipple and the other was trailing down her stomach to the little patch of hair below. I caressed her lower and lower, about to reach her pussy when she suddenly turned around in my arms, granting me with a devious smile. Dayna’s hands came to my waist and began to pull my jeans down, faster than she did with her own clothes. I stepped out of them when they were low enough, and now we were both entirely naked.

Dayna was still kneeling before me so I dropped to my own knees, bringing my mouth to hers once more and wrapping an arm around her waist. I leaned her backwards further and further until she was lying on the floor. Pulling back from her, I ran my fingers over her bent thighs and opened her legs for my inspection, eyes completely focused on her moist core. “You’re so wet, baby,” I said before I leaned down between her legs and gave her one long lick of my tongue up her slit. She shuddered violently underneath me and I stopped, not wanting her to come just yet. A moment later, I leaned forward again, this time running my nose through the short blonde locks and inhaling deeply. I looked up to find her eyes on me, staring right into me with diluted pupils while she panting heavily. Something in that moment triggered the animalistic urge in me to claim her. I lifted myself up and lay down between her legs, an elbow placed at one side of her head to take some of my weight as another hand reached low between us. I rubbed her pussy with my hand, coating my fingers in her juices as she continued to squirm under me. “Do you like that?” I whispered in her ear. She nodded and I started moving a little faster. “More,” she begged me and I complied. Before she knew it, I had speared two fingers inside her moist pussy as her hips bucked up to take me in further. I didn’t move as she did this, just watching the pleasure on her face. “Two not enough for you, darlin’? How about three?” I added another finger in her hot, tight hole and she stretched to fit me, moaning and rocking into me. I began moving my fingers in and out for her but I wanted more. I wanted to shove my cock into her. But not until she asked. “Do you want my cock, baby? Is that what you need?” I continued my casual strokes, never speeding up but occasionally slowing down a bit. She nodded into my neck. She was almost incoherent by now, but I wasn’t about to give in that easily. “Say it. What do you need?” Like a switch was pulled, she jerked up and wrapped a hand around my neck, bringing my face closer to hers. “Fuck me, Jett! I want your cock inside me, now!” she yelled. That was all the encouragement I needed.

I gave my cock one stroke in my fist, wetting it with her juices before I slammed into her. I was only about half way in, so I pulled back and thrust hard again, this time filling her up to the hilt. She groaned loudly and I stopped moving entirely, waiting for her to stretch to accommodate me. Her legs wrapped tightly around my waist, and she dug her heels into my ass, hard. “Fuck, Jett! Move!” she shouted. I almost laughed at how demanding she was being, but complied. I began pounding into her relentlessly, every time I even considered slowing down, I would hear an angry “don’t stop!” I could feel my climax nearing and I knew Dayna was close too. Reaching down with a hand again, I found her clit and rubbed it gently in circular motions until she finally convulsed all around me, her body trembling with the force of her orgasm. Her nails were scratching my back, digging deep into the skin in a way that I knew was going to leave marks for days. I slammed into her again, once, twice, three times until I came with a roar and poured myself into her. Her inner muscles were milking me dry as I continued through the strongest orgasm of my life. With all my strength depleted, I collapsed fully on top of her breathing heavily from my release. Realizing I was crushing her, I rolled over to the side. Dayna’s hands were tightly wrapped around me, so I ended up taking her with me, her body now lying on top of mine as we regained our breaths, still connected. I could feel our combined juices spilling out of her and onto our thighs, but I didn’t have the slightest care in the world. Dayna brought her head into the crook of my neck, giving me enough room to lift a hand and start stroking her hair. I’d never felt so relaxed in my life. “Christ,” I said in amazement. “I know,” she replied. It was only now that I realized we’d just had wild sex on the floor of the garage where we both worked. I began chuckling silently to myself, getting increasingly louder until Dayna joined in as well. “I cannot believe we just did that,” she said still laughing. “I know,” I echoed her earlier words. I couldn’t believe it either, but I was more than glad we did.

Chapter Thirteen Dayna Humming to myself at work, I couldn’t believe how much had changed in the last few days ever since Jett and I had mild-blowing, dirty sex on the floor of the garage. The day after we’d had sex, I came into the office and it was more than a little awkward. Jett didn’t really seem to know what to do or how to act so I took pity on him and acted like I did every day. A few moments later, he realized that I didn’t expect anything to go a certain way, and that I really was fine going back to the way things were. It was true; I didn’t want to risk my friendship with Jett. That didn’t stop me from getting turned on by almost every little thing he did. Sometimes his eyes would rake over me a certain way, or I’d look at him and remember something from the other night and all I would want to do was jump him. What was worse was that we were literally standing at the very place we’d had sex, all day, every day. Nobody could blame me for imagining him striding over to me in my office and bending me over the desk. I knew it would be just as mind-blowing as the first time too. It was just my kind of luck to finally find a guy that gave me the best sex of my life and know it could never happen again. I’d never had such a powerful orgasm before, or an orgasm at all. My previous partners left a lot to be desired in the bedroom department, an area that Jett more than excelled in. Though, I wasn’t too surprised. One look at Jett and his body just screamed ‘I will give you a night you’ll never forget.’ Which is exactly what he did. If there was one good thing that came out of it, it was the fact that Jett and I were actually a lot more comfortable around each other these days. I supposed that’s what happens after you see someone naked. It was times like these that I wished I had a girlfriend to talk things over with and vent to. Unfortunately, I hadn’t interacted often enough with other people in town. I made a mental note to start hanging out with other people instead of restricting my time to just be with Jett. I frowned at the thought. Was I hogging Jett’s time? Was he getting sick of me? Jett was currently on the phone with Carson, pacing back and forth and not saying much more than the occasional ‘uh huh.’ I’d noticed that most of his conversations with Carson went that way. I’d love to listen in on them one day, just to find out what Carson was saying to him. They’d been talking for almost twenty minutes and Jett’s face was getting darker and darker as the conversation went on. I knew he didn’t like what Carson was saying but I didn’t know if that meant bad news or just a bad conversation. When he finally did hang up, it was with a somber expression, holding the phone in his hands for several more minutes. He didn’t seem to want to be disturbed so I sat silently while he paced back and forth. When he stopped, seeming to come to a decision, he walked over to me and sat down.

“That was Carson,” he began. I resisted the urge to smile at that. I’d already gathered that from the ‘hey uncle’ he’d opened the conversation with, but I figured this was a serious matter. “He’s called me to a meeting at the clubhouse.” “Oh,” was all I could say. That was good, wasn’t it? That meant that things were about to happen, plans set in motion and all that. “Would you ... would you come with me?” I blinked rapidly a few times. He wanted me to go? I couldn’t quite control the smile that had begun to spread over my face. Surely this meant that he wasn’t quite sick of me yet. I wondered if that was the decision he was trying to come to while he paced. If it was, I was flattered. He was beginning to open up to me more and more, letting me into more parts of his life. I realized I still hadn’t answered him so I hurriedly replied. “Of course.” Jett let out a breath of relief at my answer, though I wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. There was no way I was not going to go. I wanted to know the danger the Jett was going to get himself into and this was the only way to make sure I got all the facts and not a distilled version that glossed over the detail. If I didn’t go to this meeting I had a feeling that Jett would come back and tell me very little. “When is it?” I hoped it would be sometime soon so it would give Jett less of an opportunity to change his mind, which I knew he was still considering. “Tonight. Listen Dayna, are you sure you want to come?” Jett asked. “I said I would, didn’t I?” I figured he’d already learned that I never went back on my word, especially in matters like this. I was already mentally anticipating how the meeting was going to play out, who was going to be there and what the big plan was. I felt like I had to have Jett’s back, especially since I knew he was so hell bent on getting revenge that he could become very reckless. He probably wouldn’t have a care in the world, putting himself in harm’s way left, right and center. Someone had to make sure he didn’t do something stupid. I knew his uncle would look out for him as well, but I didn’t know if Carson was also blinded by hatred and revenge. He hid it well if he did. If anything, Carson gave off the vibe of endless patience and cold calculation Between Carson and myself, Jett had two people who cared deeply for him, even if he didn’t know it. I just hoped that it would be enough for when the time came. ### I’d never set foot in the clubhouse when I was younger so I didn’t know what to expect. It was strange to think that Mom spent most of her time here when she was my age, even weirder to think it had been Jett’s home once upon a time.

We entered the clubhouse to meet Carson, who seemed quite surprised to see that Jett had brought me along. He looked oddly pleased about it, something that made me a mixture of nervous and suspicious. I remembered back when Jett had told me that Carson was asking him about me, and wondered why all the interest. Did it have anything to do with my mother? I still hadn’t asked her about the strange dynamic between her and Carson and I knew that I had to do that soon. “Dayna, Jett.” Carson strode forward and wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace, something that seemed very out of character. I froze a little in shock then awkwardly attempted to hug him back. My eyes flicked up to Jett and he seemed amused by my discomfort. I suppose if he wasn’t shocked by his uncle then I shouldn’t be either. Anyway, if this meant that Carson was accepting me into Jett’s life then I appreciated it greatly. “Hey uncle,” Jett replied. “I thought this was a meeting?” “It was. Until I decided that all our men didn’t need to be involved. I think I've worked out our next move.” Carson sat us down in a little seating area and went to grab some drinks, a beer for Jett and himself and a water for me. Jett was leaning forward in his seat, his face serious and waiting for Carson to continue. This was what he’d been waiting months for. “I think we need to meet with Gomez.” “What? Fuck no,” Jett protested. His entire demeanor had changed from captivated to very angry in a heartbeat and I could understand exactly why. I was dumbfounded that Carson had decided this would be the best move to make. Was I wrong about who this man was? “Javier Gomez, right?” I clarified. “The Mexican drug cartel boss?” “Yes, the leader of the cartel,” Carson affirmed. “That’s a terrible idea,” Jett interrupted. “It’s the best move we can make,” Carson’s words to his nephew were sharp. It wasn’t a suggestion, he’d already made up his mind. “We need help to take out Slattery without it seeming like it was a Hell’s Raiders hit. And no one will cross Gomez so it won’t be linked back to us.” The fact that nobody would cross Gomez just seemed like more reason not to make any deals with him. He was clearly more dangerous than I realized. “He’s not going to want to help us,” Jett argued. “He might. For a price. Besides, he’s our only shot if we don’t want a club war on our hands. Even without Joe, the Succubus MC is strong. They’d want revenge and they’d take a few of our men down with them. We can’t afford something like that.”

But what would he ask for, I wondered. My mind was recalling old movies I used to watch of mafia bosses being paid in either money or favors. “When’s the meet?” Jett asked. “Tomorrow. An abandoned warehouse just outside town.” “Who’s going?” I asked, suddenly nervous about where this was going. The lack of people attending this ‘meeting’ gave it away. “Just me and Jett,” Carson answered casually, as if saying it in a calm tone could convince me that it wasn’t a big deal. I knew very well that I had little clue about how the club worked but surely, he could see this was a bad idea. Gomez couldn’t be trusted and he’d probably bring more men with him. They could walk right into an ambush. “Are you sure that’s a good move,” I put forward uncertainly. “Shouldn’t you take a few more people with you?” Carson snorted and shook his head. “Jett and I will be fine. Gomez won’t try anything unless he’s got reason to and at the moment, he’s got nothing. And on top of that, it’d also be bad for business if he just started shooting people that wanted to meet with him. No, we’ll be fine.” The way he said it was so convincing. No wonder he was club president, he could talk anyone into doing anything. “I’m in,” Jett said then. I cursed him for his impulsiveness but stayed quiet. “Good. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.” ### Jett had dropped me off at the hotel after leaving the clubhouse, walking me to the door like a gentleman. A part of me wanted to use this time to plead with him not to go but I knew it would be useless. I just couldn’t help but think it was really strange that they were making a deal with Gomez. Surely someone would question why Gomez was going around and killing MC presidents. It was times like this that I realized I would never understand some things in Jett’s world. We arrived at the hotel door and I turned to Jett to say goodbye, impulsively leaning in to give him a brief hug, thinking he wouldn’t appreciate too much affection. “Don’t be stupid tomorrow,” I warned. That was probably what worried me the most. “Have a little faith, Dayna,” he replied with an eye roll. “I’m serious. Please. Be safe,” I whispered into his ear.

“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with those parting words, I watched him stroll away back to his bike without a care in the world, hoping that I really would get to see him tomorrow.

Chapter Fourteen Jett Be safe. Dayna’s words continued to ring in my head on the ride over to the abandoned warehouse. She’d whispered it gently into my ear, so quietly that it was like she was reassuring herself just as much as me. Be safe. I’d forgotten what it was like to have someone care about me and worry about whatever dangerous thing I was going to do next. Dayna questioned my every move, pointed out my flaws and never hesitated to tell me when I was being stupid or reckless. It was bittersweet knowing how important Dayna was to me but that I could never go any further with her. Christ, we’d already slept together once, and I regretted it more than anything. Yes, it was the best sex of my life, but I had taken her on the floor of the garage like an animal. Dayna wasn’t that kind of girl. She was gentle and caring and innocent. Fuck, she liked it rough, though. I wore the scratches on my back from her fingernails like badges of honor for days after we’d had sex. They were the only reminder I allowed myself to have from one of the best nights of my life. Though, considering we spent every day standing in the same spot where I’d taken her, it was difficult to stay on track at work. Carson and I had already been driving for several miles and we still hadn’t reached the warehouse. He’d said that it was only a little ways out of town, but as far as I could tell, we weren’t anywhere close. Carson was riding his own bike up ahead, leading me down the abandoned dirt road. I would never tell him in so many words, but I was endlessly grateful for Carson being there. I didn’t know if I’d be able to face Gomez alone. Dayna had been right when she said that this would be a dangerous mission today, though Carson had been quick to reassure her. Gomez was merciless and did things his own way. I’d never met him but from what I’d been told, he had a heinous laugh that could make the bravest of men piss themselves. He was becoming a ghost story in Waco, even young children in the street knowing about him. We just passed the ‘Welcome to Waco’ sign at the outpost of town when Carson signaled to me with a hand in the air. He gestured to the right and at first I was confused, until Carson suddenly veered off road onto a barely-there trail off the main road. A mile or so after that, we finally reached the warehouse we were meeting him at. It was massive, run down warehouse, a good base of operations if that’s what Gomez was planning to do with it. There were three bikes already parked out front so I knew this was the right place. Carson and I both got

of our bikes and I made my way toward the entrance, only to be stopped by my uncle’s hand grasping at my upper arm. “Keep your cool, okay?” Carson warned. “I don’t need your temper getting in the way. Understood?” As far as pep talks went, I wasn’t really a fan. I knew this was Carson as president talking and not Carson as my uncle so I didn’t take it to heart as I might have done. Instead, I nodded in the affirmative and pulled my arm out of his grip. I understood what he was saying but that didn’t mean I had to like it. This time, as I made my way to enter, I was met with no resistance and I pushed open the solid wooden door that swung back with an eerie creak. If Dayna was with me and it was the middle of the night, she would insist that we were on the set of some horror movie and an axe murderer would come out at any moment. There was no axe murderer inside, just Gomez standing casually with two of his goons. He turned to us after hearing the door open. I’d never met Gomez before but I had seen him once before, years ago, but he looked the same; same shiny bald head, dark furrowed brows, and wearing a perfectly tailored suit that seemed out of place standing in a place like this. “Boys,” he greeted, spreading his arms wide upon our entry. “Carson Walker,” he stretched out a hand to Carson who grabbed it in a firm shake. “This is my nephew, Jett Walker,” Carson said, gesturing at me. “He’s the son of Billy Walker.” This seemed to pique his interest and Gomez raised a brow, turning to one of his goons and muttering something in Spanish. When he turned back to us, he had a Cheshire cat smile etched on his face. “What can I do for you, Jett Walker?” He drew my name out at the end in a way that gave me chills. “He wants revenge on Joe Slattery. We both do.” Carson again. I had the strong urge to interrupt and say that I could speak for myself, but I supposed that’s what Carson meant when he’d told me to keep a cool head. As much as I resent it, maybe he didn’t trust me enough yet. “And you thought I’d help you, Carson?” Gomez began a slow walk around us, circling us like we were prey, which in a sense we were. “I know you would. For a price.” Gomez cackled loudly and clapped his hands together. He stopped his circling and yelled something else in Spanish to one of his guys who released an equally distressing cackle. Maybe we should have listened to Dayna and brought some more men. We were outnumbered, three to two, and it would’ve been nice to have one more man to even things out.

“You know me too well,” Gomez said, rubbing his hands together in interest and staring Carson down. I was under the impression that my uncle had never met with Gomez before, but I sensed an odd form of familiarity between them. It was stupid to think that way though, Carson was probably just involved in a deal between Gomez and the club. I pushed it out of my mind, but I reminded myself to ask my uncle about it later. “So, you want me to take out Slattery?” Gomez confirmed. “Yes.” I answered this time. “We have a plan if you're willing to help us.” Gomez let out another cackle. “So, baby Walker thinks he’s got a plan? Okay, I’ll play.” I ground my teeth in frustration but moved on. Keep a cool head, keep a cool head, I chanted to myself in the hopes of it actually working. “The plan is that I will spend the next few weeks staking out Slattery. I’ll monitor all his movements, everywhere he goes, people he meets. I’ll report all this information back to you. When we figure out the perfect time for a hit, I’ll pass on the intel and you can take it from there.” “Seems simple enough,” he nodded casually. “So, you’ll do it?” I perked up. Surely it couldn’t be that easy. “Yes. But I have a condition.” “Here we go,” Carson muttered. Damn, just when I thought things were going well. There was no telling what he’d ask us to do. Money I could deal with, but somehow, I knew it would never be that simple. Gomez turned back to his men and started speaking in Spanish once more, either translating what we were saying or discussing plans so we wouldn’t listen. I was really starting to regret not taking Spanish in high school. “Okay. I will do it. But only if the Hell’s Raiders will work exclusively for my cartel.” “What?” I sputtered. “Fuck no.” “Careful, baby Walker. I’m doing you a favor.” I backtracked immediately and held up both hands, palms out. Carson was being strangely silent, something I didn’t appreciate at all. I walked over to him until we were almost nose-to-nose. “I think we should do it,” Carson said quietly.

“You can’t be serious!” I whisper yelled. “He’ll own us. He’ll own the club.” My uncle scoffed. “No, he won’t. Don’t be ridiculous, Jett.” “They’re our men. This whole plan was because you wanted to avoid a war and make sure the club wasn’t at risk.” Carson lifted a hand and placed it at the back of my neck, drawing me close to him so that he could whisper in my ear. “Make no mistake, Jett,” he said coldly. “They are my men. I am President, and I’ll be deciding this.” He released me roughly and continued. “You can’t have it both ways, Jett. Either we agree to do this and risk the lives of my men, or we do it alone, cause a war, and risk the lives of my men.” I felt my anger rise to the surface once more and struggled to push it down. Now wasn’t the time. The way he said it made it seem like this was our only choice, but could I live with that? Knowing that I was the reason the club would be forced to answer to the likes of Gomez. We didn’t know his plans or his end goal. All we knew was that one day we’d be forced to listen when he said jump. “The club will do whatever it takes to get back at Slattery. Billy was the president, they’ll understand.” Sometimes I wondered if I knew my uncle at all, especially at times like this when he was so cold. Was this how my dad made deals too? Calculating the risks and deciding the path, no matter whose lives could be in danger? “Trust me,” Carson said. That was the real issue, wasn’t it? Trust. And I trusted my uncle explicitly. “Fine,” I agreed. Turning back to Gomez, Carson announced, “We have a deal. “But only after Slattery is dead,” I interjected. No way was I willing to do anything until he held up his side of the bargain. “Deal,” Gomez held a hand out and I reached out and shook it with disgust. I couldn’t help but feel like I’d just made a deal with the devil. Carson and I walked out of the warehouse in silence. I was still processing what had happened, but I knew Carson was angry. “You had one thing to do,” he said sharply. “Just keep your temper. Next time we won’t be so lucky.” ###

The ride back home seemed longer. Carson had sped off ahead to go home and he was now completely out of sight. I was taking my time, though I knew I’d promised Dayna I would hurry back so she didn’t worry. I closed my eyes against the wind as I coasted along the abandoned road. I couldn’t picture my father’s face at that moment. I tried and I tried, but the details were becoming blurrier with every day. Sometimes I would try and think of him, but see Carson’s face instead. I wondered if my uncle ever regretted looking so much like his brother. The sound of a blaring horn jolted my eyes open and I swerved sharply away from the oncoming car. I hadn’t even realized I’d drifted onto the other side of the road, though it was empty enough that I probably wouldn’t have cared if it weren’t for that one car. I supposed this was what my uncle and Dayna always complained about when they called me reckless. Dayna. I could picture her perfectly in my mind’s eyes, without even closing my eyes. She said she’d be waiting for me in the shop, though I’d told her that she should be working. I knew I’d come back and find nothing done and her chastising me for taking my sweet ass time to get back home. Be safe. She was probably worried sick by now, it was almost dark. With a groan, I raced down the road to the shop, hoping she wouldn’t shoot me when I arrived.

Chapter Fifteen Dayna I paced back and forth in Jett’s workshop, unable to do anything other than let every possible worst-case scenario run through my head. What if he was hurt? What if Gomez didn’t really want to talk at all? Jett had given me instructions before he left to continue work as usual and that he’d be home in no time. Of course, as soon as I stepped into the shop I was bombarded with thoughts of Jett. The whole place was a reminder of him, how could he possibly think that I could do my work and wait for him comfortably? It had been hours since Jett and Carson had left for an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Jett had even confessed that he didn’t know where it was. What if he was lost, dying of heat stroke? I didn’t even know how far away the warehouse was so I couldn’t even guess at the time that he would be back. Surely a phone call wasn’t too much to ask for. I didn’t even know why I was so worried. After all, he was just my boss. I shook my head. Even the thought of it felt wrong. Jett wasn’t anymore my boss than my own mother. He treated me like a colleague if anything, but mostly he treated me like a friend. Though, I supposed one didn’t usually have wild sex with a friend or colleague. It was hard to admit, but I was scared out of my mind. Jett was impulsive and so focused on revenge that I was worried he would do something irrational. My only consolation was that he was with his uncle, and if Carson was nothing else, he was calculating. I knew there was no way Carson could walk into any situation without at least three exit plans in his head in case things hit the fan. I continued pacing, alternating between throwing looks at the clock and at the door. If he didn’t come home in the next ten minutes I was fully prepared to call the cops and tell them he’d died. Luckily, at that moment the front door of the shop swung open and caused my head to snap in its direction, praying it wasn’t a customer. Jett swaggered in, looking unharmed and well … alive. “Jett!” I cried. I sprinted towards him and jumped into the air, knowing he’d catch me, and he did. I wrapped all four limbs around his body, forcing his hands to come under my ass to support me. Not even thinking, I bent my head and crushed my lips to his, almost bruising them with my ferocity. I was so glad he was home. A moment later, the reality of the situation hit me and I hurriedly pushed myself away from him, turning from him shyly. I felt my cheeks flush red with embarrassment and started mentally chastising myself. I wouldn’t be able to meet his eyes after this, not after I completely and literally threw myself at him. What had come over me? Well I knew exactly what it was, but I should’ve kept it under control. I’d always

accused Jett of being impulsive, but then I went and threw myself at him. I snuck a look at Jett and he seemed to be just as shocked as me. Or even more so, based on his expression. “How did it go?” I asked, in an attempt to change the subject. “It was fine. Gomez is on board. He said he’d follow our plan and help take Slattery out.” That seemed great news to me, especially since Jett had been hoping for something like this for months. He seemed unhappy about it, though. There was definitely something he wasn’t telling me. He wasn’t completely meeting my eyes, they were flicking about around the room as if he didn’t want to look at me. “Are you sure you can even trust him?” I asked. I already knew the answer. How could you ever trust someone like Gomez? From what I knew about him, he was violent, cruel and slippery. I was beginning to question Carson’s sanity despite knowing that he knew what he was doing. “No. I have no idea if we’ll be able to trust him. But you heard Carson, he’s our best shot – actually, our only shot – if we don’t want to go to war with the Succubus MC.” I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that we were talking about an all-out war between bikers like it was nothing. What had I gotten myself into? All the rules and club politics were beginning to spin around in my head. I hadn’t even met many people from the club yet except for Mike. The problem was that I was involved, without truly being in the club, a strange middle territory that didn’t really make sense to me. If there was anyone I could talk about it to it would be my mother, except I knew she didn’t really approve of my life decisions recently. I couldn’t blame her, especially when I’d promised I would listen to her, but at the same time I longed for her advice and wisdom. Jett sat down on a nearby chair and placed his head in his hands, elbows on knees. He was still worried about something, and I hadn’t correctly guessed it yet. Sometimes, I wished he could just tell me what troubled him without any coercion. I racked my brain, searching and searching until I came to a conclusion. “Did he ask for anything in return?” Jett closed his eyes and nodded once. Bingo! I knew immediately that this was the issue and why he’d been holding back until now. I wondered what Gomez had wanted? I didn’t have to wonder for long before he blurted it out. “He wants the club to work exclusively for him.” I frowned and began thinking on it. Honestly, that kind of deal wasn’t one that surprised me, especially when I thought about what else he could have asked for. And the club had made deals with him before; this would just be an extension of that. I assumed that Carson had thought it through and decided the risk was worth it. He was constantly saying how important it was to avoid a war and protect the people in the club, so I was sure he didn’t make the decision lightly. I understood why Jett was feeling guilty, though. In all his plans for revenge, I was sure that he assumed the weight of it would rest on his shoulders alone and he wouldn’t have to rely on anyone, save perhaps

Carson. Now he was finding out that Gomez was planning to ruin all that. In his head, he was probably thinking that he was failing his father, allowing the club to be caught up in something dangerous just so he could get his revenge. I also knew that he was far too invested and set in his ways to ever back out of the plan. He would avenge his father no matter what. “So, when’s he organizing the hit?” I asked. “A few weeks. I need to stake out Slattery for the next few weeks, find the perfect time and place for the hit. When I know that, I’ll feed the intel to Gomez and he’ll go from there.” That sounded like a bad idea to me, although I knew next to nothing about stakeouts. I just imagined him getting caught, unaware and defenceless, with nobody to call on for back up. “Are you going on your own?” “Yes, Dayna. Don’t worry about it though. I’ve done it a million times before.” I ignored the sudden questions that arose from his statement including who and why he had been on so many stakeouts, and focused on the matter at hand. “Can I come too?” I asked casually, taking a leaf from Carson and praying Jett would agree before he though too much on it. “Fuck no. You’re staying here and that’s final.” Well, that didn’t work, I thought glumly. “But what if you get hurt, what if you're alone and need backup?” I argued though this seemed to amuse him if anything. “Backup? Darlin’ you watch too many movies. It’ll be fine, I’m in no danger at all.” He was being entirely ridiculous and I resisted the urge to smack him. “Well if it’s not dangerous then you should have no problem with me coming,” I said smugly. At this point, I was standing in front of him, arms crossed and holding my ground. I was more than stubborn when I wanted to be and there was no way I was accepting anything other than his acquiescence. “You do realize we’ll just be in a car for several hours a night, following Slattery around and sitting there watching him.” “I know.” “It’ll be boring. Nothing like those cop shows where they sit for ten minutes and then bullets start flying. If we do our job well, they’ll never know we’re there.” “Okay, I understand. Now promise you’ll take me.” “Fine,” he grumbled and I let out a shout of triumph. “We’ll get started tomorrow.”

My eyes widened in shock at that. I didn’t realize it would be so soon. Though, knowing what I did about Jett, I half expected him to head out tonight. At least that gave me twenty-four hours to psych myself up for it. Though, if Jett was right and we were just going to be sitting in a car for hours, there wouldn’t be much to psych myself up for. “What if they catch us?” I asked, intrigued. “They won’t,” he said, as if that was the end of the conversation. “But what if they do?” I persisted. We needed a getaway plan at the very least. “Then we get the hell out of there. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing alright?” I could tell he was getting exasperated and probably wishing like hell that he’d never agreed to take me with him. “Alright,” I conceded, dragging the last syllable of the word out. “So, what have you done all day,” he asked, changing the subject. “Um…” I took a look around the room, somehow expecting there to be some miraculous evidence of all the work that I’d done. “Really Dayna? You did nothing?” Jett teased. I flushed and lowered my head. “Maybe I was slightly distracted.” He let out a laugh and I stared at the way his jaw moved and throat worked. There was something oddly sensual about his movements and I wondered how I hadn’t noticed it before. Well, I had. I’d just worked hard to ignore it. But I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I took a step closer to him as his laughter died down, feeling myself grow damp between my legs as I ran my eyes over him. Jett looked at me in confusion, and I knew what he was thinking. It was only a one-night stand, nothing more. Besides, we were friends. Good friends. And everyone knew that a friendship never went back to the way it was after you tried a relationship. Could we really risk it all? The only thing I knew for certain was that now was the worst time to be starting up something with Jett. Apart from the fact that I didn’t know if he felt the same way, he had too much on his plate for me to distract him from it. No, I would play it safe for now and control myself. Shaking my head firmly, I looked at the clock to see it was just passed closing time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jett!” I chirped and almost bolted out of there. I didn’t know if I could trust myself around him for much longer.

The last thing I saw before I hastened out the door was a look of bewilderment plastered over Jett’s face. At least I knew he was just as confused about things as I was.

Chapter Sixteen Jett I sat reclined in my Mustang, feet on the dashboard, ankles crossed and hands behind my head. It had been a long night. My eyes were longing to droop shut and join Dayna beside me, but I wouldn’t give in to the temptation. Now was not the time to give up. Dayna had fallen asleep a couple of hours ago, just as the clock had flashed midnight. I envied her light snores and her dreamless sleep. She looked untroubled and rested, something that I wished every day for. We were staking out the Succubus clubhouse, and true to her word, Dayna had been coming with me to every stakeout I’d done over the past few weeks. A stakeout was easy, if you knew how to do it. Boring but easy. It was a careful balance of keeping hidden yet close enough to see what was going on. If I was too far away, then the many hours we’d spend here would be practically useless. There could be a murder happening right under our noses and we’d never know about it. On the other hand, if we were too close then we’d get busted, and my oath to protect Dayna would be broken. Who knew what they’d do if they caught us? These past few weeks had passed slowly. I was greatly disappointed to find that Joe Slattery did very little of interest. It was hard to monitor someone that didn’t go anywhere or do anything. He had a security detail that followed him around, though they’d yet to pick up on our presence. They were with him most of the time but occasionally they’d wander off somewhere. Dayna and I had tried to trail them once but to no avail. Slattery spent most of his time at the club anyway, sometimes heading out to make deals or visit people. The only other thing of interest was when members of other clubs came by his clubhouse but again we had little knowledge of what went on inside the building. It wasn’t really our job to know but it would sure as hell make things a little more interesting. Dayna had asked a few days earlier if Slattery had any family, and I’d told her that he didn’t. That was kind of a lie though. The club was his family. They’d stand by him through anything, even the murder of an innocent. I couldn’t say the same for every family but in some ways a club was better. Unwavering support no matter what and a complete lack of judgment. I frowned at the thought. Our club was a little different. We were mostly isolated in Hell’s Raiders but we’d come together when necessary. Everyone had lives to live and things to do. It just wasn’t possible to all be on the same page at the same time. Members had kids, day jobs and grandmas living down the road. The Succubi were different. But in answer to Dayna’s question, I’d said his whole like was the club, which was entirely true. Joe Slattery lived and breathed club life, always had. When I thought about how many years he’d been running the Succubi and how long he’d been president, I began to have second thoughts about our stakeouts. Especially since we’d uncovered nothing of interest in the weeks we’d been at it. It was like he knew that

he was being watched and kept his movement to a minimum as a result. Was he just being careful? Paranoid? Or did he know we were here and was just trying to indulge us, like an adult with a child, or someone that knew he’d won either way. The thought made my blood boil. Dayna was equally as disappointed about the uninteresting sleuthing we were doing, though she was more vocal about it. “Are you sure this is the right guy?” Dayna had asked me earlier. “More than sure.” “‘Cause he really isn’t doing anything at all.” “Do you really think I’d get it wrong?” Dayna had let out an innocent giggle. “That’d be pretty funny.” I had to smile at that. Only Dayna could distract me from the firing hatred within me. “I told you this would be boring.” And I had. She’d seemed intent on coming anyway. I knew even despite my warnings that some part of Dayna had hoped, or even expected, that things would be infinitely more exciting. In a way, I had too. Or at least I’d expected something … more. At least I had some company, even if she did fall asleep half the time. The truth was, I was more than glad she’d come along, and not entirely because she could make me laugh like no one else. It was a little darker than that. It didn’t happen every time but some days when it was really quiet, at two, three in the morning when Dayna was fast asleep, I’d look at the clubhouse and wonder what exactly was stopping me from walking right in there and putting a bullet in Slattery’s head. I could do it as well. I knew I could. Whether I would or should was a different matter altogether. In those moments, I would usually look over at Dayna and see her smiling face or her sleeping form, feeling completely safe in my presence, and instantly change my mind. It wasn’t even a conscious decision a lot of the time, but my vengefulness would just drain out of me. Even though I’d told Dayna time and time again that I wanted Slattery dead, the moment I became a killer I knew she would never look at me the same. Sure, she would still be around, maybe she would smile at me the same way, laugh with me just as much, but inside she would hate me for giving in. It would happen eventually though. I wouldn’t be able to give up my desire for revenge for anyone, even Dayna. But for now, I’d enjoy her soft smiles and sweet laughs. At that moment, Dayna stirred in her sleep and mumbled something incoherent. After a second of snuggling back into the barely comfortable leather chair she sat bolt upright and started looking around frantically. “I’m up, I’m up,” she said, rubbing her eyes and blinking until she deemed herself looking awake enough.

“You don’t actually have to stay up all night.” I knew she was exhausted from spending days at the shop and nights with me. The truth was, I was tired too. “Yes, I do. I said I would and I will. Besides, I wasn’t sleeping. I just closed my eyes for a bit.” I suppressed a smile as she looked at the time displayed on the dash clock. “How long was I out?” “About three hours,” I said and almost laughed at the way she deflated entirely. “Sorry,” she said with such remorse I couldn’t contain the bark of laughter that burst out of me. “It’s fine. Go back to sleep. I doubt anyone’s going anywhere at this time.” Or at any other time. We hadn’t moved since before she’d fallen asleep. Almost six hours of stillness. “I don’t want you to be bored,” she pouted. I snorted. “Luckily for me, your snores are entertaining enough that I could never be bored.” “Hey!” she grumbled, smacking me lightly on the arm. Just that light touch was enough to send sparks coursing through me. What was wrong with me? All this time spent alone with Dayna was getting to my head. I spent all my time with her, and when we were apart, I spent all my time thinking about her. It wasn’t even the fact that she was so beautiful I couldn’t take my eyes off her, though there was that too. Especially since I’d seen her naked. I couldn’t lie and say she hadn’t starred in a fantasy of mine, or two. But it was much more than that. It was the fact that we never had to force conversation to keep it flowing and we were silent when we didn’t want to talk. It was the way we seemed to read each other’s minds and communicate without talking, with just a raised eyebrow or a nod of the head. It was the way she would pretend to have just ‘closed her eyes for a bit’ because she didn’t want to admit defeat. It was the fact that she came out with me, night after night, to sit for hours in a car, bored out of her mind even though she tried to deny it. Speaking of cars, Dayna had been so furious when she’d found out that I’d even had a car. I had to admit that maybe I’d slightly misled her when she asked me if I’d owned a car, but I had to get her on the bike somehow. She didn’t hesitate to bring it up either, something that I wouldn’t be forgetting for long while. “What do you mean, get in the car?” she screeched.

“Exactly that. I didn’t realize it was so difficult to understand.” “Shut up, smart ass. You told me that you didn’t even have a car! You said that because you owned a bike store that you wouldn’t have a car.” “I never said that. You just assumed.” I was trying to be calm and gentle but that just set her off again. “It was implied!” She was getting so worked up that it was starting to get adorable. If I was able to record the conversation and prove how ridiculous it was then, I would have. “Are you trying to tell me that you made me ride that death trap when you had a car all along?” At that I had to snort. Not only was that exactly what I’d done, but she had no right to any anger. She loved the bike, probably as much as I did, and we both knew it. “Please,” I said. “You love that bike more than I do. I can practically hear you begging that I take you out for a ride more often.” Dayna had huffed and looked away and I knew that I’d won. “Get in the car, Dayna. Or you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” With another huff, Dayna had slid into the car and slammed the door behind her, mumbling under her breath the entire trip. I smiled fondly at the memory. She really did get worked up too easily. Although, even that somehow made me like her more. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this way about a woman. In fact, I didn’t think I’d ever felt this way about a woman before. “What are you thinking about so hard over there?” Dayna asked, partially interrupting my thoughts. “Nothing,” I turned to her and tried to look like I wasn’t just thinking about her. “You're getting tired, aren’t you? I knew it! You just want me to sleep so you can too.” Before I knew it, she’d made me laugh yet again. If I could explain what exactly it was that drew me to her, then maybe I would be able to stay away. As it was, I had no idea. How was she able to captivate every part of me without fail? It was like magic the way she was able to call to me. “Nice try,” I said, shrugging off my thoughts. “Actually, I think we’re done for the night. Let’s get outta here.” “Are you serious?” she gasped. And just like that it was immediately worth it. A couple more hours of our stakeout, most likely sitting

there doing the exact same thing wasn’t worth missing out on Dayna’s almost palpable joy at the prospect of going home. “Yeah, I’m serious. We’re done for the day.” Dayna threw herself into my side and granted me a quick hug. Unfortunately, she pulled back before I was completely satisfied, but then again would I ever be? “Thank you, thank you!” she chanted as she let go of me. Yes, it was definitely worth it.

Chapter Seventeen Dayna It was going to be another long and exhausting night ahead, I could already sense it. Jett and I had just finished work and I was more exhausted than I could possibly imagine. We had definitely been burning the candle at both ends, and I could tell it was getting to Jett just as much as it was to me. There had been several days of staking out our rival clubhouse and I was sorry to admit that Jett was entirely right about how boring it would be. Still, it was nice to spend all the time with Jett. We were so comfortable with each other now, it was beginning to worry me. Had it really been so long since we’d last had sex? Jett probably only saw me as nothing more than a friend. I hated that it annoyed me. We spent hours upon hours together, working at the shop and then staking out the clubhouse. Did he even see me as a woman anymore? Or just another friend that he hung out with. Sometimes, and it was only very rarely, he ran his eyes over me when he thought I wasn’t looking and it would immediately get my hopes up that maybe he felt what I did. But then he would look away or shake his head and I could practically see the thought growing fainter and fainter in his head. “Are you ready?” Jett called out, getting into his car and turning on the engine. I was still furious that he even owned a car, or a ‘stang’ as he referred to it. “Yeah,” I yelled back through a yawn, shuffling over and getting into the car. It was six o’clock and I was already ready to collapse into a bed. Instead we head to stay up for another ten hours at the very least. I felt bad for Jett more than anything. At least I could occasionally catch a little nap in the car, though I would deny it. Jett had to stay up all night and drive there and back, too. The Succubus MC was almost an hour’s drive away, and yet, Jett made the trip with no complaint every day. It was taking its toll though. I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat and shifted around to get comfortable, finally settling on curling my feet under me and leaning on the window. Jett backed out of the garage and started driving, sending me glances every few minutes. “What?” I finally asked, a few minutes into the drive. “You look awful,” he said bluntly. “Gee thanks. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in ages. I don’t know how you do it.” That was a lie. I was slowly coming to the realization that vengeance could keep a man up for years without showing even a trace of fatigue. “Maybe I’m starting to feel it too,” Jett said, though it seemed to be more to himself than me.

“That’s it,” he said suddenly. Out of nowhere, Jett threw the wheel in the other direction and turned the car around, speeding back to where we’d come from. “Where are we going?” “Home,” Jett said simply. I held back my skepticism and waited patiently until we pulled into a shabby apartment a few blocks away. “Where are we?” I asked again. “My place.” I followed him inside the apartment, climbing the stairs to the top and following him inside. I smiled as I surveyed the room; it looked exactly how I imagined his place would look. A comfy sofa instead of a leather couch, papers on the table and a jacket hanging off a chair, plates in the sink a window flung open. It looked lived-in and exactly Jett’s style. “Did you forget something or…” I trailed off as Jett began taking off his shoes and jacket, grabbing his cell phone and throwing himself on the sofa. “Do you want take out?” He asked casually. “Yeah, I’d love some. But don’t we have things to be doing?” “Look, you're right. We’re both exhausted. Let’s take the day off.” I narrowed my eyes at him and tried to see if this was a joke. When he didn’t break under my stare, I smiled widely and slumped down on the sofa beside him, resting my feet on the coffee table. “How do you feel about pizza?” “Depends,” I said. “Pepperoni?” “Deal,” he agreed and began dialing on his phone. Surprisingly, it only took a short while for the pizza to be delivered. We wolfed it down in a matter of minutes and I was glad Jett had the good sense to get two. We lay resting on each other, stomachs full and pizza finished, and before I knew it I was drifting off to sleep. ###

I woke a few hours later, an ache in my back and a cramp in my leg. I realized why only a second later when I discovered that Jett and I had fallen asleep in arguably one of the most uncomfortable positions ever. I had half a leg thrown over the side of the couch, the other stuck underneath me, and half my upper body entirely on Jett. Jett on the other hand was half sitting and half reclined, legs on the coffee table and an arm thrown around my shoulders to pull me further on to him. Trying to extract myself from him proved mostly futile because of the crushing weight of his arm and the cramp in one of my legs that had caused most of it to go numb Well then, I thought to myself. With a great sigh, I shoved Jett as hard as I could in the side hoping he would either wake up or move. Instead, he let out a loud grunt and turned to the side, curling another arm and leg around me. Slightly frustrated, especially since I was coming to realize that I had a very full bladder as well, I gave him another hard shove. “Jett!” I whisper-yelled. I didn’t really want to wake him, though it was beginning to seem like I had no other choice. Still he slept on. I reached up to his face and decided this was the only thing left to do. I pinched his nose between my thumb and forefinger, blocking his breathing and hoping he would wake up. A few seconds later, his body started to shake, and at first I was terrified. That was until I realized he was shaking with laughter. I released his nose with a shriek and jabbed him hard in the side. “You asshole! Were you awake this entire time?” “Well you basically tipped the sofa over when you woke up, I’ve never seen someone jolt awake like that.” I glared at him. “Can you get off me now, I need to pee.” “Maybe. I’m kind of comfortable actually.” I jabbed him in his side again. Apparently, he deemed this unacceptable because he quickly lifted me up and pinned me down with his entire weight on top of me. “Listen buddy, unless you want a soiled sofa you’ll get off me right now!” “Alright,” he said calmly, lifting off me immediately and pulling me up so I was sitting upright. “Thank you,” I said uncertainly, evacuating the room as quickly as I could.

### When I returned back from the bathroom, Jett was packing away the pizza boxes strewn on the floor. “What time is it?” I asked. “Just past eleven. We didn’t sleep that long.” “I really needed that. Thanks for letting us skip the stakeout.” “It’s alright.” I settled on the sofa once more and soon enough Jett joined me. “Do you want to stay or do you want me to drive you home?” I weighed up my options at that. I was sure he wasn’t saying what I thought he was saying, there was no way in hell. I was also sure that getting home now would only wake up my mom, which was something that I didn’t want to deal with. She still wasn’t completely okay with me spending my nights with Jett, dragging myself into ‘things I had no business dragging myself into.’ Usually, Jett would drop me off at the hotel just as my mother was waking up, which made it a lot easier to avoid conversation while she was getting ready for work. If I arrived home now, there was no telling what nonsense she would begin to spew out. “I’d rather stay if that’s ok.” “Your mom?” he asked. “How did you know?” It was creepy sometimes how he would be able to read every single thing that crossed my mind. Creepier still that I could often do the same to him. “Your face is easy to read.” “I feel like I mention it every other day. I just wish we got on more.” Jett looked away absently for a moment and I almost cursed my stupidity. “Sorry, Jett. I didn’t realize…” “No, it’s okay. I’m not fragile. I won’t break if you mention him.” I nodded but I didn’t really believe him. He was more fragile than he knew. “Do you ever think about your mother?” I said instead, though I wasn’t too sure why. It was something he rarely brought up, if ever, and certainly never with me.

“Not as much as I used to. I don’t really remember anything about her.” I leaned over and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “I wish I did,” he continued. When we were younger we didn’t really talk too much about the fact that we only had one parent each. Some days I thought it was why we bonded so well in the first place. Two kids that were part of the club, though I didn’t know it at the time, both only with one parent and both just wanting a little more attention. “You know the story around the club is that she died in a car crash while she was visiting her sister.” “Isn’t that what happened?” The way he said it made it sound like there was something more sinister at play. “Fuck no.” “Then why would they say that?” Jett let out a humorless bark of laughter. “My mom split when I was about two or three. Probably didn’t want to deal with club life, I’d say. Dad didn’t want to admit to it at the time so he told the club she’d died. Can you believe it? Even his wife didn’t want to put up with the club. She left behind a note at least, if you could call it that. Not even a reason or an explanation. Just ‘I’m sorry.’ And nothing else. Never called, never visited.” It was at times like this that I realized Jett had probably kept this to himself for years, never letting anyone know his true feelings or his deep-rooted anger. “That must have been hard as a kid.” “I didn’t even know at first. Dad lied to me, too. It wasn’t until I was a little older and we were in the middle of an argument. I told him I didn’t want to be part of the club, I wanted to go off to college and make a name for myself. Not even sure if I believed what I was spouting, just wanted to make him a little angry. He turned to me and said, ‘Just like your mother. Not wanting to support me, not wanting to have my back. A true family we all are. Are you gonna run off and leave me behind too?’ He’d screamed it as well, right in my face, drunk out of his mind.” At this point I was getting a little emotional. There were tears gathering in my eyes that I struggled to blink back. I was glad Jett wasn’t looking my way so he wouldn’t think I was weak. “I always thought you and your dad were really close.” “I sometimes wish we were.”

The unspoken question hung in the air between us. Why was he doing this then? Why was he so intent on revenge? “And then he went and died and I realized there was so much I never got to tell him. I never told him that I forgave him for being the way he was. I never told him that I didn’t hate him as much as he thought I did. I was just angry that ever since my mom left he put all his time and energy into the club and sometimes forgot about me. I just wanted him to be my dad.” I couldn’t stand the distance between us anymore. I rolled over a little and wrapped an arm around his waist, placing a head on his shoulder and gripping him tight. He wrapped his arm around my waist and drew me further into him, allowing me to provide him with some small form of comfort. I had no idea how hard his life had been. It was also very moving that he could be open with me and was okay with showing me his vulnerable side. I’d known that we had a deep emotional connection, but this just cemented it. I decided then and there that if the only thing I would ever be was just Jett’s friend, then I would take it and never question it, just so that someone would always be there for him. Mom was more right than she knew. He was hurting more than I’d ever imagined and I could never turn my back on him now. He was stuck with me for as long as he’d have me. “I’m sorry for everything.” “Don’t be.” “I am,” I said firmly. “And I wish I could make it all go away.” “I wish I could do the same for you. You had it just as hard as I did, worse even.” “You can’t make that call,” I shook my head sadly. “And I’d go through it all again just so that I could be with you here and now.” “You don’t mean that,” he said, turning his head away from me. “I do.” I raised a hand to cup his cheek between three of my fingers and turn his head back to me. “Look at me. I mean it. I would do it all over again. For you.” We stared into each other’s eyes and something seemed to click between us, something that I wasn’t entirely sure I understood or would ever understand. Like neither of us could help ourselves, and I really didn’t think we could, we leaned in until our lips just touched. A spark spread throughout me, sending a shiver down my spine but I didn’t pull back. I couldn’t. It wasn’t like the last time. It wasn’t frantic or rushed or animalistic. We took our time. My hands trailed to the bottom of his shirt and lifted it up over his head, pulling my lips away from him for only a moment before I was drawn back to him like a magnet. I threw a knee over his lap so I was

straddling him, allowing me to move easier. I ran my fingers over his bare chest like I was exploring it for the first time. My hands were ice cold against his hot skin, causing an involuntary shiver to rush over him. Jett’s fingers were playing with the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head in the next moment. His hands went to unclasp my bra and I helped him pull it off my shoulders, arching my back so that my breasts spilled out into his hands. I was grinding into him, moving my hips up and down until I decided on slow circles instead. I could feel his thick length through his jeans, pressing into me and setting me on fire. With Jett’s thumbs playing with my nipples, I continued raking my hands over his chest. There was something special about just being so close to him. I undid his jeans slowly, knowing I’d have to pull away to take them off completely and not sure if I would be up for that yet. Fortunately, Jett made the decision for me, grabbing my upper thighs with either hand and lifting me up so that I was wrapped around him. Jett carried me off down the hall of his apartment, pushing open a door and walking inside. I could only assume it was the bedroom and I was proven right when I was laid gently down on a bed. He peeled off my jeans slowly down my legs. Then my socks, one at a time. Next came my panties, which he slid down as deliberately slow as he could manage. As soon as they were off and I was naked, he trailed kisses up my leg, starting from my toes and ending at my thighs before switching to my other leg. His jeans were still on, something that I was entirely not okay with. “Jett,” I said and he stopped his kissing. “Pants,” I responded to his raised eyebrow. He complied with a smile, stripping them off almost as slowly as he did to my own pants. I only enjoyed the view for a moment before he returned to planting kisses all over me. Frustratingly, he stopped at my thighs and then moved to my stomach, up my chest, and over to my lips again. “Everything all right, love?” I almost hitched a breath at the endearment but pushed it to the back of my mind instead. He didn’t mean it that way. “Jett Walker, you are the biggest tease, you know that?” “I know,” he grinned a boyish smiled that captivated me entirely. He was poised over me but was slowly starting to press his entire body weight into me. There was something about having a man lying naked on top of me, feeling him press every single inch of himself onto me that turned me on more than words could ever explain.

“Jett, baby. I want you.” “Are you sure?” he asked teasingly. I was drenched beyond belief, my heart was racing and I was more worked up than I could remember ever being. That was what Jett could do to me. “I’m more than sure,” I affirmed. In answer, he held tightly onto me and rolled us over so that I was now on top of him. “Go on then, darlin’. Give it your best shot.” I straddled him and moved my hands to his cock, hard and throbbing between my fingers. Lifting my hips, I guided the tip of him inside me, mouth dropping open in pleasure. I slid him in slightly further, enjoying the way he was stretching me fully. I could feel him so completely inside me and wished I could revel in the moment for longer. Jett was getting a little impatient though he was trying not to show it. I sped up a little, impaling myself further and further on him. I was panting now, but determined to continue. “Any way you could speed up a little?” Just as he uttered the words, I slammed myself down one more time and he pushed up his hips, his entire length filling me up to the hilt. “Christ,” Jett muttered. Apparently having enough of me on top, Jett flipped me around in one maneuver so that he was once again on top. “Hey!” I protested. Jett pulled completely out of me and thrust back in and I was slick enough so that there was little resistance. “Okay, continue,” I agreed and Jett just laughed, pushing back into me. He was moving at a leisurely pace now and I could feel my orgasm building up within me. Jett lifted his free hand and brushed a stray hand of hair out of my face, gazing into my eyes as his hips move in and out. It seemed as if he was staring deep into my soul, giving me a smile that I could almost describe as loving. “Jett,” I gasped out and all at once my climax rolled over me and I shuddered fiercely as I came down from my high. Jett followed soon after, exploding inside me as I milked him dry. “Dayna,” Jett breathed heavily in the crook of my neck.

We rolled once more so that we were side by side and just regaining our breaths. “This was definitely better than a stakeout,” I said. “Definitely,” Jett agreed and pulled me towards him so my back was to his chest. I could feel him hardening up again behind me I gulped hungrily. I wanted him again. And again. And maybe another time after that. The truth was I couldn’t get enough of him, and I didn’t think I’d ever be able to. Jett seemed to have the same idea and as I brought a leg up to my chest, he entered me gently from behind. It was a different angle to before but just as good. Jett thrust lazily into me until we exploded around each other once more. We kept going for much of the night, finally collapsing in the early hours of the morning, entangled in each other’s arms and drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

Chapter Eighteen Jett The low rumble of my motorbike engine as I started it up was like music to my ears. It felt like I’d never been this calm and focused in my entire life. After weeks of endless stakeouts and late night torture, it was finally time. Months of preparing for this moment and it was here. Joe Slattery was going to die tonight and I was going to be there to watch it happen. Gomez had contacted me the day before to tell me he’d set up a meeting with Joe Slattery tonight and was going to carry out the hit. It was going to be simple enough; we were going to carry out the hit under the guise of a drug deal. Slattery wouldn’t expect a thing, especially not from Gomez. Slattery would probably bring a few men with him, just as a precaution, but I wouldn’t dwell on those too much. It didn’t concern me who got hurt tonight. As far as I was concerned, they were all responsible. That wouldn’t necessarily mean I’d go out of my way to kill them but if it was a ‘them or me’ situation then I wouldn’t hesitate. Carson had wanted to be there as well. He’d initially told Gomez he was coming too which shocked me considering how he didn’t seem to want to be involved before. As far as I was concerned, my uncle wanted the results but didn’t need to be there for the method. So, it came as a surprise when Carson had spoken about how he wanted to actually be there when justice was served. Gomez stepped in though, changing Carson’s mind with some hard-to-argue-with logic. My uncle was entirely too recognizable to take part in a pseudo drug deal. We’d be busted before we could open our mouths and that would truly be a disaster. So, Carson was staying behind like I’d originally imagined and I supposed he would just have to be content with the knowledge that Slattery would no longer be on this earth. It was strange to think that in a few hours it would all be over. I didn’t really know what to feel. I’d been waiting for this day for so long but now that it was here, I didn’t know whether I should be excited or grateful or relieved or angry. I supposed it would become clearer tonight when I’d finally gotten my vengeance but until then I would be a mixed pot. “Don’t think too much about it,” was the advice Carson had given me. “Keep your eye on the prize and think about your dad. Think about the shock that must have been written all over his face when he was shot.” That was a pep talk if there ever was one. “Slattery needs to die. Go make your father proud,” he finished. It was his final words that made things a little complicated. Maybe you could say that I didn’t know my dad as well as Carson knew his brother, but the words were still swirling in my head as I drove up to the Gomez’s warehouse to meet him.

Dayna had made things a little more complicated too. I couldn’t help but feel guilty whenever I thought about her. She knew what she was getting herself into, though, and it was far too late to change anything now, even if I wanted to. I finally arrived at Gomez’s warehouse and parked my bike outside, trying to keep myself as calm as I could before I entered the building. It would do me no good to get worked up and lose my cool, especially today. I knew if Carson were here, he would tell me the exact same thing. “Breathe, relax, keep your temper in check,” I muttered to myself before throwing open the doors to the building. “Gomez,” I greeted. He was several feet away talking to the other men he’d be bringing along. There were two of them, and plus Gomez and I made four of us. That would be enough for the hit, especially since one of Gomez’s men would count as about three. “Baby Walker,” he called back at me and spread his hands out in greeting. I let the insult roll over my shoulders. It doesn’t matter, I reminded myself. Eye on the prize. I was introduced to his other two men, Luca and Pablo, both of them greeting me as ‘Walker.’ I appreciated that they didn’t attempt to call me by the same name as their boss or we would’ve had serious problems. Both men turned from me and to the table that was stacked with guns of all sizes. It was some serious firepower. Were we invading a country or taking care of one guy? I didn’t bother to ask as they began arming themselves to the teeth. One of them, possibly Luca, gestured at the pile. “Help yourself to anything.” I kept my face stoic as I assessed their artillery. There was no way I would accept anything from them. Who knew what kind of strings were attached? “No thanks,” I declined. “I’ve got my own.” It was true, though not quite as extensive as theirs. My gun was tucked safely into my waistband and as far as I was concerned, that was the only one I needed. I was eleven years old when my father had gifted it to me, and so it was the perfect gun to use tonight. “Alright men,” Gomez called us in. “We’ve gone over this before. It’s a simple hit. We’re arriving ten minutes before they are, so we have time to spare. Don’t let them be suspicious of anything. As soon as they arrive we open fire. They’re going to retaliate quickly so we’ll need to take them all out. Joe Slattery will not be walking away alive tonight.” With everyone nodding in agreement, Gomez shouted, “Let’s go,” and we all headed outside. We were taking a van instead of our bikes, which immediately set me on edge. I didn’t have the comfort of leaving in a hurry if problems should arise but I would also have more protection from bullets. It was a risk either way but I didn’t really have a choice as we all piled inside.

The meet spot was about a half hour away and despite riding in a cramped van that was more uncomfortable than I could imagine, we arrived in practically no time. The spot itself was exactly what I had predicted. It was a back alley in between two large apartment buildings that were near dilapidated. The alley was fairly long, open on one end to connect to the street where Gomez pulled in. There was a chain-linked fence on the other side, presumably to stop anyone from accessing the buildings behind, but it was half knocked down at this point, easily allowing anyone to get through. There were two dumpsters against the wall on left hand side of the alley and cardboard boxes strewn around haphazardly throughout. I couldn’t say that the location was uncommon for a meet like this, but something about it felt off. As soon as the van stopped, we all rushed to get out. I looked closely at the far end of the alley. It was dark and I could only just make it out but there seemed to be a set of bikes parked just where the fence had broken down. “Are those bikes?” Pablo asked, starting to raise his gun in uncertainty. We were meant to arrive first, so I could understand his apprehension. Taking a few careful steps forward in unison, my eyes darted crazily around us as I tried to capture even a flicker of movement. I couldn’t specifically pinpoint anything but there was something off about the atmosphere, a calm-beforethe-storm type of feeling that hung heavily in the air around us. We had only managed to take three more steps forward when it happened. They jumped out of seemingly nowhere, flashes filling my vision as shots were fired from both sides. Someone yelled in pain and I lifted my gun to shoot at a man running towards me. “Move!” Gomez shouted. All four of us leapt toward the large dumpsters and used them as cover as we aimed around and over. It was a complete ambush. We were entirely outnumbered. There were maybe ten of Slattery’s men, all shooting directly at the four of us. There was no way we would be getting out of there alive. I stood up in a flash, shooting twice over the top of the dumpster and dropping back down once I hit a target. “There’s too many of them,” I shouted above the gunfire. Pablo and Luca apparently had the same idea, nodding to each other with solemn expressions before running out into the fray. “What are they doing?” I asked Gomez. “We’re fucked, Walker. Outnumbered completely. They know that. Pablo and Luca are loyal to me, they’ll do what’s necessary.”

I peered around the corner as I spotted them running forward and shooting left and right with tremendous skill. One, two, three, four men dropped like flies to the ground. “Fuck,” I muttered as one of our boys collapsed. A moment later they were both out. “How many are left?” “Three, I think. Slattery was hit in the arm. He might have taken off. Axle Verano’s dead too; that was Luca.” “Who?” “Joe’s right hand man. If anything, that’ll set him back a while.” As we spoke, a man came charging around the dumpster, gun raised and shooting. He only managed one shot before my arm came up of its own volition and a bullet flew right into the man’s head. “That was close,” I said. Gomez didn’t reply and I turned my head to see him clutching his chest in stunned silence as blood oozed out from beneath his fingers. “Shit. We need to get out of here. Look the van’s right there, we can make a run for it.” “Right,” he agreed. Gomez and I looked at each other and with a nod of agreement we dashed out from our cover and to the van, shooting blindly behind us. Thankful that we were relatively safe, I sped off away from the street, paying no mind to the bullets that were hitting the back of the van. As soon as we were a few streets away I pulled over and turned my attention to Gomez. Not really knowing what I was doing, I tried to put pressure on the wound but there was just blood everywhere, spilling out of him like a faucet. Ignoring how unlikely it would be that he’d survive, I pressed both hands to the bullet hole, staunching the blood flow as much as I could. “It’ll be alright. Look I’ll call an ambulance now—” “Walker, shut up. We both know I’m not getting out of this alive. I have something to tell you.” Even facing certain death, the man was a pain in my ass. “What?” “Joe Slattery wasn’t the reason your father died.” “What?” I repeated, in outrage now. This was the worst time to bring this up. If Gomez wasn’t already dying, then I’d be tempted to wring his neck. “Yes, he was, what are you talking about?”

“It wasn’t Slattery. Carson Walker was behind it all,” he panted, the words were coming out fainter now, with longer pauses between. “No, you’re lying.” “You have to look past what you can see, kid. Not everything’s always black and white. Carson hated Billy, always had. You spent two minutes in their company and you realized two things. Billy was too soft when it came to his brother, and Carson doesn’t have a heart.” Gomez was gasping for breath now but determined to continue. “Carson asked me to take Billy out and blame it on Joe. He wanted to work together and I agreed. It was a good tactical move but more trouble than it was worth. Carson’s obsessed with power and money. The Hell’s Raiders aren’t enough for him, he wants to start a war and take over the Succubus MC too.” “But … this whole time he’s been trying to stop a war. He’s always saying how he doesn’t want to lose his men.” Gomez snorted. “He’d love a war. And he’d love you to start it. Then you and Joe would be out of the picture and he could control both clubs.” I shook my head against the pile of information I was receiving from Gomez. There was no way it was true. My uncle was a good man and he loved my dad. They were brothers, there was no way he would betray him like that. “If that’s true, what about the ambush tonight?” I’d gotten him now, I was sure of it. How could he explain the ambush and the fact that he’d gotten shot? “That, I’m not sure of. Carson really does want Joe dead. This hit would’ve gotten rid of him and kept you in line. Didn’t work out, though. Someone at your end must have snitched.” Snitched? No way. Everyone I’d told was solid. Carson knew, but this wouldn’t serve his interests. Dayna knew but she would never betray me. That only left… No. Absolutely not. There was no way that Mike would ever give me up, especially not for a rival club. He lived for the Hell’s Raiders, and his dad was so important to him. How could he betray us like that? He was like my brother. I suppressed a snort; apparently, family meant little to anyone these days. The thought of telling Mack about his son brought a pain to my chest. How could he? I looked back down at Gomez to find him breathing quicker and in shorter bursts.

“Why are you telling me this?” I said, mostly in an attempt to keep him alive and talking. “Baby Walker, you’ve got a lot to learn and I’ve got nothing to lose,” he wheezed. “Besides, I’ve always hated Carson but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love to see him in hell.” He was barely moving his chest now, just lying there motionless. “Stay with me Gomez. You can’t die on me now.” I shook him a little but I couldn’t even hear his breaths now. My fingers met his neck and I couldn’t feel a pulse. “Gomez,” I shouted. “Javier!” I knew there was no point. He was dead. “Fuck,” I said to myself. What was I going to do now? Hating myself for it, I drove back to the alleyway and climbed out of the van. Thankfully any of Slattery’s men that were still alive had left and all that remained now were bodies. I surveyed the carnage that had resulted from the meet. So much guilt was building up inside me. If I’d realized about Carson earlier… He was going to pay. I wouldn’t let him get away with manipulating me any longer. Gomez deserved better, they all did, but I couldn’t do anything about it now. Steeling myself, I heaved Gomez out of the van and placed him close to the other bodies. When he was found in the morning it would look like just another shooting between rival gangs. How could everything have gone so wrong? The shooting was bad enough but was I really supposed to just believe everything Gomez had spouted to me? He had no reason to lie, not on his deathbed. It would answer the numerous questions I’d had over the past few months about Carson and the little things that didn’t seem to add up. Turning on the spot, I took a moment to assess the situation I’d found myself in. It was like everything I’d ever believed was a lie. Carson killed my dad, Mike had betrayed me, Gomez was dead. I couldn’t wrap my head around it all. I was just a pawn in my uncle’s big plans. My only family left and he’d never cared about me. I needed to get home. I needed to get to Dayna, who knew if she was in any kind of trouble. I’d always known that she was my one vulnerability and I had to get to her as fast as I could. Climbing on my bike, I sped off towards Waco, praying that I’d already gone through the worst for the night.

Chapter Nineteen Dayna Where was he? Sunset had fallen in the town of Waco several hours ago, cloaking the streets with a thick darkness that seemed deeper and more sinister than usual. It was coming up on nine o’clock and normally, the shop would have been closed several hours ago. Not today though. Today I had spent pacing back and forth in Jett’s shop, paying no heed to any tasks, bills or orders that needed to be taken care of. I had much more important things on my mind. Where was he? It had been hours since Jett left. He’d promised that he’d be back soon but I wasn’t going to believe it until he was standing alive and well in my arms. Tonight was the night that Jett had planned to meet up with Joe Slattery and carry out the hit. I was beginning to get anxious. Who was I kidding? I was anxious the second he’d placed a foot out the door. I turned on my heel and began another lap around Jett’s workshop. It wasn’t too long ago when I was here pacing exactly like I was now, waiting for Jett to come back to me. The last time was when Jett and his uncle had met with Gomez at the warehouse and that had turned out fine so maybe I was just overreacting. He was probably fine anyway. He’d spent a long time talking about how easy a hit that was going to be. In a way, it churned my stomach to know that Jett was out trying to kill someone at that very moment. On the other hand, it was Jett, and I couldn’t ever hide how much I would be willing to overcome to remain with him. He had insisted that it would be the so simple he would be back by dinner but it was a lot later than what I’d expected. He could’ve just been dishonest for my sake but I had a feeling that Jett wasn’t purposefully lying to me. He really did think he would get home in time. And that only left a few other possibilities of what had happened, none of them looking too positive. I couldn’t help the way my chest tightened with fear. Something didn’t feel right. Call it a woman’s intuition or just superstition, I knew something wasn’t right. It had been way too long for Jett not to come back. And he would’ve called by now if he could. That thought almost earned a scoff from me. Jett was the worst when it came to calling or texting or even answering. If he even had a phone on him it was a miracle. I wandered over to the single window of Jett’s workshop that faced the street and peered through a slat in

the closed shutters. The street was quiet outside, just what I would expect at this time of night in Waco. I kept an eye out hoping that Jett would come racing down on his motorbike at any moment but when he didn’t, I backed away from the window with a groan of frustration. Where was he? Normally, I would’ve been at the hotel with my mom, but I’d told Jett I would wait here for him to get back. I didn’t want to miss him when he returned and I also wanted to be there for him in case he needed me. Despite Jett’s constant talk of vengeance, I knew he was a better man than what he thought of himself, and I knew he would have mixed feelings about Slattery’s death. Maybe that was what was going on. Maybe he felt confused and needed some time alone to think things through. That didn’t sound like Jett but I would accept any explanation apart from the awful scenarios I’d conjured in my head. Shot and left for dead, bleeding out in the streets, crashed into a brick wall, motorbike crushing his body, stabbed in the chest, his final breaths made in a cold and dark alley, completely alone. I peered through the shutters again, eyeing the empty street outside and praying for any movement at all. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing. No people, no cars, no bikes, and, most importantly, no Jett. Where could he be? Just as that thought crossed my mind, I heard the low rumble of an engine coupled with the bright headlights as something came speeding down my street. I stood up on my toes trying to get a better view, craning my neck left and right while my heart threatened to burst out of my chest. I let out a small sound of anguish as I realized it was just a black van coming down the street. Just as I was about to turn away from the window, I noticed the van stop right outside and three men getting out, holding guns the size of my arm and dressed in head to toe black. “Shit,” I muttered to myself. I immediately let go of the shutters and raced to turn off all the lights. What was I meant to do in an invasion situation? It had never happened to me before so I was at a complete loss. What else? I hurried to the front door and locked it, wishing there was a deadbolt as well. What else?

A weapon. I jumped over to a small cabinet on Jett’s side of the room and pulled out the shoebox resting inside. Jett wouldn’t mind if I borrowed his gun, right? I peeled off the lid and cursed when I realized that of course it would be empty, Jett had it with him for tonight. What would work as a weapon then? I scanned the room frantically and almost smacked myself a moment later when I remembered where I worked. I opened Jett’s toolbox and grabbed the large metal wrench that was about the distance from my fingers to my elbow. That should do nicely. The door was pounded on roughly from the other side and I resisted the urge to scream. “It’s okay. They can’t get in, they don’t know you're here.” The door shook again as the men behind it tried to knock it down. That was my cue to hide. Hurrying to my office, I locked the door behind me and squeezed myself under the desk. There was no hope for me, I knew it. I snagged my phone from my back pocket and dialled Jett’s number. “Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up.” I groaned and shut off my phone, debating who next to call. A loud bang sounded out as the front door of the workshop finally opened and the men were able to come in. My hands began to shake. I thought it would take them a lot longer to get through that door. I called Jett once again praying that maybe this time he’d answer. Again, there was no answer. Should I call the police? I debated it then dismissed the option entirely. I supposed Jett was rubbing off on me. I gripped the wrench tighter in my grip, holding it carefully behind me so that it would be slightly hidden when the door opened. The men were making a lot of noise over in the other room, I could hear them shuffling about and knocking things over without a care. Hopefully if they made enough of a mess then Jett would walk in and immediately figure that something was wrong. My heart was beating in my throat as I held my breath for as long as I would be able. I wondered if they were looking for me or if I was just unlucky. My question was answered when the office door flung open and a man shouted, “We got her!” Well, I wasn’t willing to go out without a fight.

I lifted the wrench up and over my head, ready to swing when it was grabbed easily by the man in front of me and thrown to the side. “Nice try,” the man mocked and smacked me hard across the face, the force of which sending me crashing to my knees while I clutched my cheek. That wasn’t supposed to happen They hauled me up and off the floor, each man clutching one of my arms while I flailed about. They were tying a gag around my neck as I screamed and struggled to break free but I was making it as difficult as I could for them. Only when they began tying me up, binding my hands and feet together, did I start to feel the panic set in. They were so much bigger and stronger than me, how could I ever escape? All I wanted to know was what they wanted from me, but I couldn’t even speak anymore, just grunted and made some incoherent noises through the gag. I was lifted up into a pair of arms and kicked my legs out in vain, trying to get loose even though I knew there was no point. The man smacked me mildly on the side, not as hard as the other guy, but enough for me to understand and stop my squirming. I’d save my energy for escape later. “Got a little fight in her, aye Dex?” One of the men leered. “Wonder if we have time to teach this one a lesson?” another man responded. I froze solid in the man’s arm, going limp so quickly that he almost dropped me. “Look at that, I think she likes that idea,” he taunted. “Hurry up, boys! We’re late!” The third man shouted and I thanked whatever god was up above for saving me just in time. The doors to the back of the van were opened and I was thrown carelessly inside where I rolled once before hitting the inner wall with a thud. Just before they shut the doors in on me, I caught sight of the logo on one of the men’s jacket. Succubus MC. My heart immediately sank and I tried to slow my panting despite how restricting the gag was. If the Succubi were here, then that meant taking me was revenge. Revenge against Jett. Something had gone wrong with the hit on Slattery, there was no mistaking it now. Maybe they’d made a mess of it and word got back to the club. Maybe Jett wasn’t even alive anymore. Maybe he was tied up somewhere just like I was, struggling to get free. If the latter were true, then maybe I was going off to meet him now. There was no use in panicking I reminded myself. Everything would be just fine. Think happy thoughts. My self pep talk was slowly starting to fail, leaving me cold and shaking on the cold metal as the van

sped through turns and knocked me from side to side. I couldn’t hold back the sob that emerged from my chest at that moment. I was tied up and alone in the back of the van, heading off to god knows where with nobody coming to rescue me. It was going to be a long ride.

Chapter Twenty Jett I made it back to the shop in record time, flinging the front door wide open as I raced in. “Dayna?” Something put me immediately on guard though I couldn’t identify it straight away. Maybe she’s have gone home to the hotel, but I seriously doubted it. “Dayna, are you here?” Surely things weren’t usually so chaotic in the shop. It looked like there had been some kind of scuffle, things knocked over and not in the right place, tools seemingly thrown aside. I was usually pretty messy around the shop but Dayna wasn’t, and this wasn’t the usual kind of mess I was accustomed to. Panicking would do no good, I reminded myself and thought about where next to look. The clubhouse seemed the next logical place though most of me was begging not to go there. Carson would be there, and I was still grappling with the idea that he was not the man I thought he was. It couldn’t have all been a lie though. Surely some part of him was still my uncle. He’d promised not too long ago to protect Dayna with everything he had and I could only hope that he’d kept at least one of his promises. It took me minutes to reach the clubhouse, not wanting to waste any valuable time if there was any trouble. I had to admit that I stood outside for several moments before I worked up the courage to go in. “This is about Dayna,” I said to myself. “Just do it.” I stiffened my shoulders and marched in. “Carson?” I called out. “Jett. How was the meet?” I looked over at Carson, standing there as confident as ever and almost burst right then and there. “We were completely ambushed. Mike snitched on us, we were no match for them. Gomez is dead.” The lack of emotion on his face caused the rage I had tried so hard to supress to rise up within me in a tidal wave and threaten to choke me. Dayna first. She’s more important. I would get my revenge on Carson soon enough, but only after I found out what had happened to Dayna. “Gomez is dead? No shit,” he said. “Yeah. Have you seen Dayna?” I asked suddenly. I didn’t have time for any bullshit.

One look at his face told me it wasn’t good news. I ran through a mental list of possibilities of what was wrong. Was she hurt? Did she get into an accident? Why hadn’t Carson told me as soon as I’d arrived? The last question could be answered with a simple ‘it’s Carson’ but I was still concerned over Dayna and where she could’ve gotten disappeared. “Now don’t you go getting crazy about this, okay?” Christ. Now I knew something was the matter. “About what? What happened? Is she okay?” I fired off my questions one after the other, my rage building up as I advanced on Carson. “Tell me!” I roared. There was nothing more infuriating than being in a situation that was dire and having someone like Carson try to stop you or slow you down just to prove his point. “Take a breath and step back,” Carson said calmly. “You shouldn’t get worked up over this.” There was very little that could convince me at that point to stop my hands from going to his neck and squeezing the life from him. If it weren’t the fact that only he knew about what had happened to Dayna, he’d already be dead. Instead of choking him like I’d prefer, I lifted my hands to clutch the collar of his shirt, pulling him up towards me. “Tell. Me. Now.” I enunciated in a carefully controlled voice. Carson sighed but complied. “They took her.” “What do you mean?” I was a hairsbreadth away from exploding. “The Succubi took her.” All the anger immediately drained from me and was replaced with a freezing shot of fear. I let go of Carson immediately, and he righted his shirt with a huff. How could this have happened? How could I have let her be taken? I should’ve anticipated an attack and sent her somewhere safe. Instead, I’d knowingly left her in the shop, unprotected and alone. She was the perfect target for a kidnapping so I wasn’t sure why I was as shocked as I was. “We have to get her back,” I said with determination. “We don’t know what they’ll do to her.” Scenes of Dayna beaten up and bloodied, lying motionless on a cold floor flashed before my eyes and immediately strengthened my resolve.

“Let’s head out now.” I was grouping Carson with me. As far as I was concerned, there was no way he would get out of this without helping. The only thing keeping him alive was the fact that Dayna was gone and I knew I might need his help. “We can’t just storm the clubhouse. That’ll be a disaster. Our men won’t get one foot inside the door before we get blown to pieces. They’ve got more firepower than us, and the advantage of being in the clubhouse. Is Joe still alive?” “Shot in the arm, but alive.” “We can’t have a full out war with them with Joe still alive. If he wasn’t then we’d have a chance while they’re still scrambling to work without him.” Of course, it would all come back to Joe. I could see now how eager Carson was to get rid of him, no matter what the reason, but I had to admit he was right. I grudgingly agreed with Carson, feeling more helpless than I’d ever been. “Are you going to call Kelly?” “Yeah,” I sighed. That was one conversation I wished I could put off forever. “I’ll call her.” Dialling Kelly’s number, a strong pulse of fear went through me, one that almost overpowered the guilt that had been riding me ever since I woke up this morning. Kelly would kill me. There was no way this phone conversation would end in anything else. I made a promise to Kelly that I would protect her baby girl and I didn’t. Not even close. In fact, I may as well have served her up to the Succubi on a silver platter. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. None of this was supposed to go this way. How was I supposed to tell Dayna’s mom that her daughter was taken and may or may not be alive at this very moment. Especially after we’d spent so long trying to convince her that there was no place safer than the protection of the club. Carson coughed loudly and stared pointedly at the phone in my hands. “Having trouble, son?” “I’m not your son,” I ground out, turning on my heel and going to a quieter location in one of the other rooms. I couldn’t deal with him right now. I held my breath waiting for Kelly to pick up. Come on. Please pick up. Please pick up. “Hello?” Kelly said.

My mouth was open and ready to form words but no sound was coming out. I felt like a goldfish opening and closing my mouth to no avail. “Hello?” she repeated, a little impatiently this time. “Kelly.” My voice was low and guttural, as if I’d been swallowing glass my entire life. “Jett? Is that you?” “Yeah it’s me. Kelly, I—” “Jett Walker,” she interrupted. “You better not be calling to tell me Dayna is hurt!” My silence spoke volumes, as did her deep gasp of breath and the hitch in her voice when she spoke next. “What happened?” “She was at the workshop. I wasn’t there, she was waiting for me. The Succubi took her.” I kept it as short as I could, knowing Kelly wouldn’t stand for anything else. “They took her?” she said in disbelief. “Yes.” “I’ll be over in ten.” The line went dead and I had a strong urge to throw the phone at the wall. Not now, I reminded myself. Later, when Dayna was back, alive and well. ### Kelly stormed into the clubhouse like a raging bull less than ten minutes later. “Carson!” she shrieked. “Listen Kelly,” he began but was interrupted by a crack as Kelly smacked him in the face. His head went flying with the force of her hand, but he didn’t make a noise, turning back to her as he worked out his Jaw. He held up his hands in a placating gesture but she was having none of that. “What did you tell me?” He didn’t answer and Kelly grew visibly enraged. “What did you tell me?” she demanded again.

“That she’d be safe. That we’d protect her.” “Oh, so we’re clear that you lied? You swore she’d be okay.” “Kelly, I didn’t think that—” “Your brother would be ashamed,” she said in a low voice. I was beyond disappointed when Carson didn’t even flinch. “We all know there’s only one way out of this,” she continued. “No, it’s true. They’ll torture her and then kill her just to teach you a lesson.” “You can’t be suggesting what I think you are,” Carson said. “There’s no other choice. And you won’t be stopping me. I think you’ve done enough.” “I don’t understand,” I interrupted. “What are you planning?” “I’m going after her.” “No!” I shouted. Dayna would never forgive me if anything happened to her mother. They didn’t have the world’s best relationship but I refused to let happen to her what had happened to me. “I won’t let you.” I took a step towards her even as she took two steps back. “It’s the only way.” ### Kelly I snagged a set of keys from the rack by the door and headed to the club garage. Considering what I was doing, I doubted they’d fret over a stolen bike. I sped off into the night, racing against time in an effort to save Dayna. She was exactly like me, getting herself into trouble at every turn, involving herself with the wrong people, never listening to her mother. I scoffed. It was like I had been reincarnated into her. I’d only ever wanted one thing for my daughter, only one thing. And that was to be safe and happy and away from the harm that the club would inflict. I’d been through this too many times and it killed me to know that I didn’t even fear death anymore. I was too scarred, too tainted, and too used to this life. Dayna deserved better. Dayna deserved everything anyone could ever give her. I knew she loved Jett, I really did. And I knew he loved her too, more than anything. Ever since they were kids I’d known they had a deeper connection than anyone would ever understand. I didn’t mind. I knew he would keep her safe. And as much as I hated it, I knew I couldn’t place the blame on him. He’d do

everything to protect her if he could. No, it was Carson that I blamed. Only him. I’d known my whole life that I could never trust him but Billy Walker had always had a soft spot for his younger brother. “he’s just a kid,” he’d say to me when I told him how worried I was. “Just a kid trying to find his way.” But now it was years later and he hadn’t found his way. He’d let my daughter be taken into the hands of the enemy and he’d let Jett get so caught up in his own head that he didn’t even realize what he was missing in the world around him. Dayna would never forgive me for doing this; I wasn’t stupid. But I hoped in time she’d understand and maybe realize that the club would never be worth it. I knew that was a pipedream though. She would stay with Jett for life. I’d accepted it but it didn’t mean I liked it. Jett would give her everything and he’d never let her get hurt again. If only he discovered his uncle wasn’t the man everyone thought him to be. I pulled up at the Succubus clubhouse and took a deep breath to calm myself down. This was it. This was the time. Nothing mattered now except getting Dayna out alive and well and back to Jett. A prospect met me at the entrance to the club but I didn’t even spare him a glance. “Move. I’m speaking with Joe.” He sputtered a little but let me in regardless. If I was in a better mood, I’d give Joe some free advice to get rid of this useless one. He pointed me in the right direction and I followed a long corridor down until I came to a door that I assumed had Joe behind it. Not giving myself a moment to debate, I flung the door open and strode in like I owned the place. There were three men in the room. Joe in the middle on an armchair, a bloody bandage wrapped around his bicep, and two other men I didn’t recognize. Probably his enforcers. “Joe!” I greeted in a sickly-sweet voice. I’d met him a few times, and though he was ruthless, he was also fair. I knew he’d go for what I had planned. “Kelly Blake? Is it really you?” he smiled back, just as fake as mine had been. “You have my daughter. I want her back.” I cut right to the chase, not wanting to waste any time with pleasantries. Joe chuckled deeply and exchanged a look with the other two men with him. “And why would we want to do that?” he asked. “Please, Joe. I’m begging you. Spare Dayna and take me instead.”

Joe looked reflective. “You would be willing to exchange your life for hers?” I was appalled. “I’m her mother, of course I would.” “Not every parent would, I assure you.” I would do anything for Dayna, he would soon understand that. “I’m offering my own life in exchange. An eye for an eye, it’s the biker way. You know it is. Dayna has no part in any of this. Let her go and take my life instead. Please.” Joe lifted his eyebrows in contemplation, looking to his men again. After a pause, he turned back to me. “I respect your courage, Dayna. I always have. You would’ve done well with the Succubi, I don’t know why you got caught up with the Hell’s Raiders.” “So, you’ll do it then?” Joe turned to one of his men and clicked his fingers. “Get the girl.” I released a breath and the tension was siphoned from my shoulders. Dayna would be okay. “As a gesture of my respect, you can say goodbye.” “Thank you, Joe,” I said sincerely. He may have been aggressive and relentless, but he had integrity, and that was more than I could say for many others. After a few moments, the man returned with a tied-up Dayna in tow. She was gagged and her wrists were bound, but otherwise she looked physically unharmed. “Untie her,” Joe demanded. Once Dayna was free, she immediately started rubbing her raw wrists and glared at the men in the room. “Mom, what are you doing here?” she asked, finally settling her gaze on me. That was what I would miss the most, her sweet innocence, not yet connecting my presence with her freedom. I wished she would remain untainted like she was forever. Unfortunately, I was about to blow that innocence straight out of the water. “They’re letting you go, sweetie,” I smiled at her, taking a moment to put all the love I could never express into my face. I didn’t want her last memory of me to be of my fear taking over every part of me, though it was definitely rising up within me. “Thank God. Let’s go, Mom.” She held out a hand to me and I grabbed it, pulling up to my lips and kissing it one last time.

“Not me, sweetheart. Just you.” She furrowed her brows in confusion. “What do you mean? What are you going to do here?” Ignoring her, I said instead, “You’re going to be okay. You know how much I love you, that will never change. There’s a bike outside, one of the men will take you to it. Ride home and get to Jett straight away. I know he’s worried sick about you.” “But how will you get back then?” She still wasn’t getting it. “I’m not going back, Dayna.” I remained as calm as I could, trying not to get too emotional or Dayna would never be able to leave. “Why would you stay here? Mom, they kidnapped me.” She lowered her voice slightly as if her captors had forgotten what they’d done. “Dayna, I’m not coming back. A life for a life, that’s the biker way.” I repeated to her the words I’d told Joe, but they had a significantly worse effect on Dayna than they’d had on him. “What do you mean? No! You're coming with me, I won’t let you stay here.” “Dayna, you don’t have a choice. Go now back to Jett and promise me you won’t look back.” “No! Mom, I’m not leaving you.” I nodded to one of Joe’s enforcers and he grabbed Dayna around the waist from behind, hoisting her along with him as he turned to leave the room. “No!” Dayna screamed once more. “Mom! Mom!” “I love you!” I called out as she was dragged out of the room, literally kicking and screaming. “Mom!” Dayna’s screams echoed as she was pulled from the building. “I love you,” I repeated, a whisper now. I turned back to Joe, face firm and resolve steady. “Make it quick,” I said. I knew he would be true to his word. He shuffled a moment and grabbed his gun, lifting it up and aiming it at my head. Despite all my bravado a single tear dripped steadily down my cheek. I didn’t want Joe’s eyes to be the last I saw before I died. Instead, I closed my eyes and thought of Dayna.

Chapter Twenty-One Dayna It was all my fault. Mere days had passed but it had felt like months. It was odd how I’d spent so long despising the hotel room we stayed in, and now I would spend hours sitting there doing nothing. My mother was everywhere. Her scent in the air, her hair on the brush on the vanity, her shoes by the door, her rumpled skirt on the bed. When I first stepped into the hotel room, I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of memories that bombarded me. I slid slowly down the door to the ground and sat there unmoving for a long while. She had been there hours earlier, lying in bed, using the phone, taking a shower, straightening her hair. She had been there hours earlier, breathing, awake, moving, alive. It was all my fault. I’d raced back to the clubhouse after Slattery’s goon had manhandled me onto the bike. I’d never ridden alone before, but I was thankful that Jett had taught me how. Jett enveloped me in a hug when I arrived at the clubhouse, but I was so incoherent I didn’t know who he was. “They have her, they have her,” I chanted. “We have to save her, we have to go.” Jett’s arms had gripped me tighter as I struggled against him, muttering something over and over in my ear as I tried to free myself from him. I met Carson’s eyes over Jett’s shoulder. His face was strangely blank when he said the words that would cause me to break. I could barely hear a thing around me but Carson’s words were clear as day. “She’s gone.” A scream sounded out, filled with pure agony, but I didn’t connect it with myself until later. My shoulders shook with the force of my sobs and my body went limp, not having enough energy to hold itself upright any more. Jett kept muttering the same thing over and over in my ear but I still couldn’t hear him, still couldn’t understand him. It could’ve been hours or moments until I pushed away from Jett, who was so shocked he stumbled back a few steps.

His lips were still forming the words that I could not yet hear. Though I was never good at reading lips, I finally understood what he was trying to say to me. “I’m sorry.” I was, too. Sorrier than anyone could ever know. Unable to deal with him or anyone else anymore, I sped out of the clubhouse and back onto the bike, racing to the hotel room. I’d stayed there against the door for a long time. It was bolted shut so even though someone, most likely Jett, had tried to get me to open up. I refused. A few days later someone slid a paper under the door. The only reason I read it was because it appeared right next to me. I was glad I did. The note brought me to the morgue, staring at my mother’s lifeless body. It was all my fault. She looked calmer and more peaceful than I’d seen her in years, even more than when she was sleeping. The weight of the world was no longer on her shoulders. I still couldn’t bring myself to say that she was dead. She was just … gone. For so long I’d resented so much about her. Everything from her choices to what she’d say to me. Turns out she was right the entire time. How could I have involved myself with something as dangerous as a motorcycle club? She’d spent years of her life involved with one, and I knew that she had infinitely more knowledge than I did. She’d begged and pleaded for me to distance myself from the club, to keep myself safe. And what did I do? I ignored everything she’d told me, convinced myself that I knew better. That in my barely twenty years of life I knew more than her almost fifty years. How could I be so stupid? I thought I was in love. I thought Jett was my entire life. Fuck love. Love brought nothing but misery and heartache and death. I’d loved my mother but never showed her, never told her that I did. And now she was … dead. Dead, and she never knew how much she meant to me.

She didn’t know that she was the one constant that had always been in my life. She didn’t know that she’d been my best friend for years when I had nobody else. She didn’t know how much I admired her, respected her. She didn’t know how grateful I was that she’d spent her entire life trying to protect me, whether it was from the club or my stepfather. She died without knowing any of that. She probably died thinking that I didn’t care at all about her. Her face was seared into my brain as I was dragged out of the room at the Succubus clubhouse. It was filled with so much affection, so much love. How could she love me so much when I had done nothing to deserve it? The only thing she’d ever asked of me was to stay away from Jett and I couldn’t even comply with that one simple task. But now I was going to do things differently. I was going to honor my mother’s wishes, even though now I knew it was far too late. Nonetheless, I was going to stay away from Jett like I’d first promised. Maybe now nothing else would happen. Maybe now I would be able to get away from the life my mother had always wanted me to get away from. I had enough saved in the bank from the few months of working at Jett’s to start a new life for me. It wouldn’t get me much, maybe a bus ride to another state and enough for a room in a run-down motel in another small town. That would be enough for me though. I would start over fresh, somewhere where no one knew me or about me. Somewhere I could disappear. Yes, I would leave Waco. And I would never come back. I convinced myself that the ache in my heart had nothing to do with this decision. There was nothing left for me here anymore and I was determined to make my mother proud, at least once in my life. ### I’d stayed staring at my mother’s body for longer than I’d expected, almost an hour. I’d known the mortician, Adam, since I was young and he’d kindly told me that I could spend as long as I needed here. He was on his lunch break and wouldn’t be back for a while, leaving me with ‘enough privacy to grieve.’ Was it wrong to be all grieved out even though it had only been a few days? I hadn’t even had a funeral yet and I was already sick of crying and screaming and arguing with what had happened. Suddenly, there was the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs to the morgue. The only reason I could hear them was because the deadly silence that surrounded me.

In the back of my mind it might have registered that there was no way that Adam could have been back yet. If it had, I would’ve moved right away, stormed out of the building without seeing whoever was coming down the stairs and avoiding the conversation that I knew would have to happen sooner or later. “Dayna,” he said. It had only been a few days since I’d laid eyes on Jett, but my heart still skipped a beat at the sight of him. Quite frankly, he looked run ragged. There were deep purple bags under his eyes which were bloodshot and irritated, his beard which was normally at least neatly trimmed looked unkempt and frazzled and his clothes were rumpled and mismatched. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Knowing it was too late to leave and that he’d either attempt to stop me or follow me, I stayed silent, moving my eyes away from him and back to my mother. I knew if he touched me or got anywhere near me that my resolve may crumble so I needed to keep a solid distance between us. The face of my dead mother certainly helped steel my resolve against him. “Dayna, look at me.” There was no way that was happening and no way I was going to give in to him. She may be dead but I found that I couldn’t do that in my mother’s presence, no matter how much he begged or pleaded. “Dayna, please.” His voice cracked at the end and it took all of my might not to look at him. “Please leave.” My voice was so monotone and detached that I almost shocked myself. It sounded as though I had never known happiness in my entire life; it sounded as though my entire soul had been ripped out of my body leaving an empty carcass behind. I could tell that Jett, too, was taken aback by my words and tone because it was a while before he took another step forward and spoke. “Don’t do this to me, Dayna. You need me.” Jett took another step forward and reached an arm out. It reminded me of when I was younger and I tried to lure in birds from my windowsill, reaching an arm out slowly so as to not frighten them. “Don’t touch me.” My voice was like a whip and it had the desired effect, his arm dropping down to his side as if he’d been electrocuted. “You're not coping,” Jett tried again. “You can’t keep shutting everyone out. You need help. I want to help you.” “You can’t help me. No one can. Just leave me alone.” “That’s not true. I can help you if you let me.”

“Get out.” “Dayna please—” “Get out!” I screamed, turning on him with more fire in me than I’d ever experienced before. “How dare you come here and try to do this in front of her? How dare you think I would ever forgive you? It’s your fault that she’s here, that she’s dead.” “That’s not fair, Dayna. I didn’t kill her.” “You may as well have! You could have stopped her. You could have let me die!” A pause. “You don’t mean that.” “I do,” I whispered. “I really do.” “Dayna, I need you in my life. Please don’t shut me out.” “It’s over, Jett,” I said calmly. “I’m leaving town and you’ll never see me again.” The unsaid ‘and I will never see you again either’ seemed to settle in the silence between us. “Where will you go?” he asked, his voice hoarse and his eyes clenched shut. “Anywhere but here.” That was a jab that I almost regretted. I could very nearly see Jett flinch from the blow of my words. “At least tell me if you need something.” “I don’t need anything.” From you. Many moments passed with both of us standing mute beside each other, a lifetime of unspoken words filling the air around us and threatening to choke me. “I guess that’s it then,” he said finally. He stepped a little closer to me and at first, I thought he was going to touch me, something that would most definitely cause me to unravel, but instead he leaned down over my mother and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry, Kelly. Thank you for being the only mother I’ve ever known.” My eyes filled to the brim with tears, but I blinked back the moisture, knowing that as soon as the first teardrop flowed the rest would follow in a waterfall.

He left the room without looking back, something that I appreciated more than he’d ever know. I waited for the sound of his footsteps to disappear completely before I allowed myself to exhale. Hopefully, that would be the last time I’d ever see Jett Walker again.

Chapter Twenty-Two Jett I’d been riding for hours. It was just past eleven when I left the house and it was now well and truly dark. I didn’t know the time, I didn’t know where I was, all I knew was that I couldn’t stay there. Not in the town that was filled with every bad memory I had, not in the club that had taken everything and everyone I loved away from me, and especially not in my apartment, where Dayna and I forged a bond that brought us closer to each other than I’d ever been with another human being before. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stay there and pretend everything was okay. It wasn’t. Dayna was gone, Carson was still around, and I was more alone now than ever. It had been days since I’d found out about my lying, cheating, betraying uncle, and yet I’d done nothing. I’d ignored the fact that I was living moments from the man responsible for my father’s death. I could go over to his house at any time and put a gun to his head, but I knew I wouldn’t. There was no way I could even look at him now. I hadn’t seen him since the night that Kelly had died and I wasn’t planning on it either. Kelly. I still couldn’t believe that she was really gone. Dayna was right, it was all my fault. I should never have dragged Dayna into my revenge bullshit. I should’ve kept the promise I’d made to Kelly all those years ago. If I had, none of this would ever have happened. Kelly would be alive, so would those several men caught in the shootout in the alley, and Dayna would at least be still in my life. She wouldn’t have been mine, not truly, but I could live with that if I knew she didn’t hate me. If I knew she was safe. I hadn’t seen her since the other day and I didn’t even know if she was alive anymore. If anyone had asked me a few weeks ago if Dayna was capable of hating anyone, I would’ve replied that there was no chance in the world. Christ, was I wrong. The way she’d looked at me, the way she’d spoken to me… Fuck. It was like I was a complete stranger. No, worse. It was like I was dead to her. She couldn’t even look at me. And the only time that she did … I didn’t think I’d ever seen anyone that angry. I’d grown up around bikers and gang members my whole life, big burly men who killed people like it was no problem and yet I’d never seen anyone so enraged. And all of it was directed straight at me.

I may as well have been dead to her. I’d spent hours while Dayna had locked herself in the hotel room pounding on the door and demanding her to open up. She was like a robot, unfeeling, unthinking, uncaring, completely withdrawn. When I realized she wouldn’t answer, whether it was because of me or because she didn’t even realize there was someone even at the door, I collapsed back against the wood and slid down to the ground. I waited there for hours, hoping she would come out. I didn’t move, didn’t sleep. I knew Dayna was inside there, hurting. How could I have left even if I wanted to? Especially since it was all my fault. I knew it and Dayna knew it too. I should’ve stopped Kelly. Sure, she’d made up her mind, but what would she have done if I’d grabbed her and locked her in a room or taken the bike keys from her? If I was being honest, I didn’t really want to stop her. She was the only way Dayna would have left the Succubi alive and deep down I knew that I wouldn’t have put up too much of a fight if I were to do it again. Dayna would always be my first priority. I was crazy to think that I’d ever even have a chance with her, though. I’d made the ultimate gamble when I decided that maybe, just maybe, I could have her, and ended up being responsible for her mother’s death instead. I was no better than my uncle. After Gomez’s confession, all anger, bitterness and notions of vengeance towards the Succubi were immediately drained from me. They were not to blame after all. I’d let my short temper and delusions of vengeance make me easily manipulated but I wouldn’t let that happen again. Carson had been getting away with his deception for too long and enough was enough. Now that I didn’t have Dayna, I needed something else to distract me before I went crazy. My mind kept replaying my actions over the last few months and I was getting more and more irritated with myself. How could I let myself be so easily controlled? Had my father taught me nothing? Though we didn’t always get along, if there was one thing my father knew, it was how to run the club successfully and with integrity. He’d described it as the ‘old biker way’ and explained that some people would understand and some wouldn’t. Despite how hard it was to lose Kelly, I knew that Slattery had stuck to the old biker way that my dad had so often talked about. It was about honor, respect, and morality, something that Carson had never understood. It killed me more than I could ever explain that I’d never realized the true Carson, especially since it made so much sense if I thought about it for even a moment. I was so blinded that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I had a plan to resolve it though. Something that I should have done a long time ago. ### Arriving at the Succubus clubhouse, a place I’d frequented during my stakeouts with Dayna, brought up

mixed emotions within me. I knew I was doing the right thing at last, something that put me at ease, but a part of me wished that I’d done it so much earlier. There was a prospect at the front door that stepped forward hesitantly as I stopped my bike. “Who are you?” he called out. “Jett Walker. I need to speak with Joe Slattery.” “About what?” “Just tell him I’m here,” I growled. The prospect lifted his walkie-talkie up to his mouth. “It’s Slim. There’s a Jett Walker here to see the Prez.” “Is he armed?” the voice said back. “No,” I put in. I lifted my shirt for good measure and showed him the lack of gun in my waistband. “He’s unarmed,” the prospect confirmed. Idiot, I thought. He didn’t even search me. I remembered how Gomez’s men had gins strapped to their ankles, knives on their thighs and several holsters. Rookie move, Prospect. “Boss says let him through.” With the door open, I headed inside. I didn’t get three steps in before I felt something hard press into the back of my head. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t shoot you.” “I don’t have one.” There was a silence and then I could feel the gun being pulled away from the back of my head. I turned around slowly so as not to alarm him and came face to face with Joe Slattery himself. I couldn’t help but feel I’d passed some sort of test in Slattery’s eyes considering my brain matter wasn’t exploded on the wall behind me at this point. “You’re brave to show your face here.” “I needed to see you. I should’ve come a long time ago.” Weeks, months. For a moment, I imagined what would have happened if I’d come directly here after my father’s funeral, gotten everything sorted out back then so I didn’t have to deal with months of bullshit, and now the loss of the best thing in my life.

“This better be good,” Joe said. Joe turned on his heel and walked down a hall. With no other option, I followed him until we got to a kitchen area. What was going on? “Beer?” he asked. I was thrown for a moment but kept my cool. “Thanks.” He passed me a beer and leaned against the counter, lifting it up to his mouth and taking a long pull. I assumed he was waiting for me to speak so I didn’t delay any longer. “I came here to apologize.” Joe didn’t respond in words, just raised an eyebrow at me and drank his beer. “I was played. I thought you’d killed my father and I was consumed by my need for revenge. I’m sorry I tried to kill you.” Joe scoffed. “Took you long enough to realize I had nothing to do with it.” Yeah, it had. I would have given anything to go back and change it. Trying to control my scowl of regret, I continued. “It was my uncle. He’s been lying to me for months, trying to get me to start a war so he could take over your club.” Though I wouldn’t have understood it before, Carson’s plan would never have worked. The Succubi were too tightly knit, too close and too solid. He didn’t stand a chance at whatever he’d been planning and Joe probably knew it too. “I’m not surprised. Carson Walker was always jealous of Billy. I’m surprised there’s even a Hell’s Raiders left with what I know of him.” I was surprised as well. The club should have collapsed ages ago but it was narrowly staying alive. It needed a president that was less like Carson and more like Joe —calm, determined, driven and intelligent. In saying that, Joe was a lot calmer than I’d expected and I took this as a good sign. “I’d like to offer a truce.” “A truce?” “Yes. There’s too much animosity between our clubs. You’re the closest club to us and we should be using it to our advantage. Teaming up and covering more ground, opening up charters elsewhere, opening a trade link between our clubs and others. We don’t need to be rivals.”

“You know, your dad had been nagging me about the very same thing for years. Difference was, we didn’t know if either of our clubs would go for it.” I was taken aback at this news. Had my dad really been all about peace and harmony with the Succubi? Carson had always spoken of how much Joe had hated my dad, but I was starting to doubt even the smallest things he’d told me over the years. “Would you try it now?” I asked. I held my breath for the rejection that I was sure would be coming. “I think I will.” I released my breath. “Thank you.” I held out my hand for Joe to shake and for the first time in a long while, I knew I was doing the right thing. “What about Carson?” he asked. “Don’t you worry about him.” I smiled bitterly. “I’ll be taking care of him.” With our discussion over, I thanked Joe one more time and turned to leave the room. “Hey, Walker,” he called out. I spun around to see him gaze at me with a contemplative look in his eyes. Something about that look made me feel like he could read my mind. “You're a lot like him, you know. Like Billy.” Inside, I was shocked, but I remained calm on the outside. My whole life I’d been told I looked like my mom. People barely mentioned anything about my dad. Somehow though I knew he wasn’t talking about appearances. “Don’t you forget that.” I wouldn’t. The club was all I had left now and I knew it could be great again with Carson gone. I was going to pit everything I had into restoring the club to its former glory, to the way my dad had always dreamed it would be. Giving him an appreciative look, I turned to leave the room but stopped suddenly. “Hey Joe? One more thing,” I began. “Who was the bastard that kidnapped my girl?” Joe sat silent for a moment before he shrugged. “Dex!” he called out. A moment later someone stuck their head into the kitchen.

“Yeah, Prez?” “Escort Mr. Walker to the exit, would you?” “Of course. Let’s go Walker.” “Thank you,” I said to Joe, following Dex out of the room. He walked me to the exit of the clubhouse and stood there expecting me to leave. Clenching a fist, I punched him dead in the nose, the telltale crack of bone breaking sounding out in the air. “That was for my girl,” I told him, leaving him groaning on the floor in agony. Feeling marginally better, I climbed onto my bike and prepared to head home. I’d spent too long avoiding what needed to be done but I would do that no longer. There was no stopping what I had planned now.

Chapter Twenty-Three Dayna Packing had always struck me as a strange affair. How could anyone fit their whole life into a suitcase? How could anyone decide out of every single thing they owned what was important and what could be left behind? Packing up someone else’s life was considerably harder. It felt like a strange sort of betrayal, deciding that the most important things of Mom’s were a few odd items that I would take with me while the rest would be discarded. If Mom were here, then she may have kicked up a fuss and demanded I take more things of hers to remember her by but she wasn’t here. And I couldn’t take everything, no matter how much I wanted to. I was several hours into packing up the hotel, a job that should’ve taken less than one hour. It didn’t help that every third or fourth item I picked up was associated with strong memories that I wanted to relive for a moment before I was willing to pack it away. It was a long process and despite how often I kept reminding myself that it was necessary to leave town, I still wanted to delay the inevitable. Deciding what to keep and what to throw away was made harder by the fact that Mom never really had much of an attachment to material possessions, especially considering how quickly we’d had to flee from my stepfather. The only things of real value in the hotel were photo frames, albums and mementos. That didn’t at all take into consideration the other little things in the room that weren’t particularly valuable in anyway but things I associated with strong memories of my mother and so I couldn’t bear to part with. Probably the worst part of the entire packing experience was the moment I realized how few photos I had of my mother. It was saddening but also exactly what is should’ve expected from my mother. She was beautiful, and not just because she was my mother. But there was something about capturing herself in the moment with a camera that she hated. On the other hand, she had practically glued a camera to her hand when I was a kid. There were hundreds of photos of me growing up. The first tooth I’d lost, riding a bike for the first time, my first day of school. Not all of them marked special events either. There was one that Mom had taken because I’d woken up and she thought the lighting was nice. There was one when I had a fever and Mom was scared I would die. There was one when I tied my shoes for the first time but had put them on the wrong feet. All of it was photo documentation of my entire life until now, but sadly there were only a few scattered photos of my mom. Oh well. Nothing I could do about it now. It was just another thing to add onto my list of regrets. I was finally done packing a single suitcase of things that I would take with me to start my new life. It was going to be harder than I’d realized to leave Waco. All my happy memories of Mom were here. It was where I grew up, the first home I had. It was where Mom was born and where she spent most of her life. It was where we’d fled back to when we needed to be safe again.

But it was also where we’d fled from in the first place. It was where she’d died. It was where she’d sacrificed her life for mine. Did she not realize how destroyed I would be? What was she thinking? She’d died so that I could live. What kind of horrible logic was that? How could she do … I trailed off as the thought continued to grow in my head. How could she do what every mother would do? How could she protect her only child until her death? How could she put my happiness before her own life? Mom had spent her entire life trying to keep me safe and she’d died doing the same thing. Like a ton of bricks crashing down on me, I realized just how stupid I was being. Of course, she would trade herself for me, didn’t I know my mother at all? This was exactly the kind of thing she would do with no hesitation. How many times had she flung herself in front of my stepfather so I wouldn’t get beaten? How many times had she lied to protect me, how many times had she warned me away from dangers and tried to mother me in an overprotective way that I would complain about? Of course, she’d done what she did. That didn’t mean I had to like it, though. “Mom,” I said aloud. “I wish you weren’t so quick to protect me. You could’ve been alive right now.” As I expected, there was no answer, but I did feel slightly better talking aloud than in my head. The last words she’d said to me were ‘I love you.’ I wished now that I had returned the sentiment. At the time, I was too busy trying to get away from my captor. What had she said before that? Something about going to Jett? She must have been confused in her last moments. She’d never want me to go back to Jett. Mom didn’t even want me around him in the first place. And she was right. The club was more dangerous than I’d ever know, and it had proven that time and time again. I should’ve left town then and there, as soon as Mom had told me to run, instead of going back to Jett. It just made everything more complicated than it needed to be. With any luck, Jett would’ve thought I was dead as well and now I wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of leaving him. The selfishness of the thought made me frown. In reality, I knew Jett wouldn’t get over my death at all. In fact, he would’ve raged an all-out war with the Succubi, charging right over there, guns blazing. Whether Mom knew it or not, she’d saved quite a few lives with her sacrifice. Who was I kidding? Of course, Mom knew that. She’d probably calculated the risks, the problems, the

potential outcomes and all the hundreds of variables that might affect the future. “Shit,” I muttered aloud. This whole time I’d convinced myself that it was Jett’s fault for letting my mother go off to her death just to save me but that wasn’t entirely the truth. Mom would’ve gotten her way eventually, even if Jett had tried to stop her. She’d known that he would have gone crazy and started a war. She’d known that something had to happen to prevent that. She’d known that by sacrificing herself she’d not only save me but the club that she’d grown up in. Jett wasn’t to blame for my mother’s decision. It was more my fault than his anyway. If I hadn’t chosen to get caught up in Jett’s life, then maybe they wouldn’t have taken me to get back at Jett. I’d chosen to walk down that path with Jett. I’d chosen to give it all up for a chance at love. A tidal wave of guilt rushed over me as I thought about the last words I’d spoken to Jett. He didn’t deserve any of what I said to him. I was so caught up in my anger, bitterness and guilt that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I’d turned into, well, Jett. I’d known from the very beginning that Jett’s plans for revenge had very little to do with making his father happy in death, and instead very much to do with Jett himself and appeasing his own guilt that he’d never truly supported his father in the club which was such a big part of Billy’s life. Jett just wanted his father to be proud of him and finally chose to go down the path of the club, even though it was too late by then. If my mother’s death had taught me anything then it was that Mom made her own choices and worked hard to give me a life where I could be happy and safe, and if I didn’t go after it and pursue happiness with everything in me then that was the only way that I wouldn’t make her proud. I just wish Jett would come to the same understanding soon. I looked down at my packed case and then over at the hotel room door. Mom wanted me to be happy. Wouldn’t that mean I should stay right here? I’d already established that Jett wasn’t to blame for the loss of my mother, what else was stopping me? Why wouldn’t I choose to stay here in Waco and go after Jett? After all, I’d fallen so completely and utterly in love with him. My eyes shut against the thought. Did I really love him? Memories of Jett filled my mind. Riding on the back of his bike, dancing with him to the radio, lounging around and not doing anything, trying to fight boredom at stakeouts. I’d been with Jett every step of the way since I’d gotten to town, involving myself in every aspect of his life. How could I ever think it was his fault when I’d worked so hard to make sure I was embedded into his life?

He’d once told me that I was his biggest vulnerability and he was right. But he was my biggest vulnerability, too. I’d already lost my mother, could I really stand to lose the man I loved too? Would I really make my mother’s sacrifice be in vain? She’d died so I could live, so I could be safe and happy. Was I about to let my one shot at happiness slip through my fingers just because of my stupidity? No. No, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. ### It was three in the afternoon and I was running down the scorching streets of Waco, shirt billowing in the wind behind me as I raced to Jett’s workshop. There was a more than good chance he would be there considering the time. I knew he’d closed it for a few days, not that I was keeping tabs on him, but knowing Jett like I hoped I did, he would’ve returned to work today, if only to preoccupy his mind. That was just the way Jett was. Oh God, I slowed my pace down a little. What would I say to him? ‘Sorry I implied that you killed my mother. I didn’t really mean it. I love you.’ That would go over well. I could see the shop in the distance now and I knew I had to make my mind up quick. I refused to waste any time that we might be able to have together, that wasn’t what I was given a second chance at life for. Before I knew it, I was standing directly in front of the shop door and without a clue of what to say to him when I walked in. “Shit, shit, shit.” I’d have to wing it. There was no stopping me from barging in and that’s what I did, storming into the shop, slamming the door shut behind me and scanning the room. A stunned Jett was a few feet away from me, anxiously looking me up and down. I knew how I looked; crazy and determined, but probably not for the reason he thought. “Jett,” I whispered, overwhelmed by the sight of him and looking him over with new eyes, love-filled eyes. Jett must have noticed the change in me since we last met and relaxed his posture a bit, though he was still on guard. I couldn’t take it anymore. Running the short distance between us, I threw myself into his arms and wrapped all four of my limbs

tightly around him. His hand came to my thighs as he held me in place. A wave of emotion overcame me and I buried my face in his neck, sobbing hard. “Jett,” I cried. “Jett, I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He repeated it into my ear in a soothing voice. “I didn’t mean anything I said. None of it was your fault, it was all me.” “No, baby. Don’t say that.” “Will you forgive me for what I said?” I hiccupped. “Of course. There’s nothing to forgive.” I pulled his lips down to mine and gave him a scorching kiss, one that would hopefully convey every single one of my emotions. When we pulled away panting, I could see his eyes were becoming moist. “I love you, Jett,” I sighed. The moisture in his eyes overflowed and Jett took a big heaving breath. “Say it again,” he whispered. “I love you,” I said louder. He planted his lips on mine fully and backed me into the wall. “Say it again.” I looked him dead in the eyes, knowing what he needed was to believe me. “I love you, Jett. I love you so much.” I wrapped myself tighter around him until there was not a hairsbreadth of room between us. “I love you too, Dayna. Always have, always will.” And there it was. He didn’t make me work for it. He didn’t make me second-guess my decision. He didn’t make me feel like a fool or an idiot. He just accepted me for who I was and always gave back to me exactly what I needed. I made no move to get out of his arms. We just stayed like that, wrapped around each other for perhaps hours. Nothing mattered to us. We were finally together and we wouldn’t let a thing come between us anymore.

Chapter Twenty-Four Jett It was amazing how focused you could be when you had the proper motivation. Now that I had nothing left for me anymore, I didn’t want to waste time like I’d done so often in the past. I’d spent the last few days planning and plotting, knowing I couldn’t get it wrong this time. Ever since Gomez had informed me of my uncle’s deceit I’d promised myself that Carson wouldn’t be getting away with all his betrayal and the day had finally come for him to pay. Over the past few days I’d gotten word out to all the club members that I had an announcement to make today. I’d also made sure they knew it was important enough not to mention to anybody. I didn’t need this getting out, especially not to Carson. I was glad everyone had agreed and said they’d be there. An audience was essential for what I had planned today. Carson was going to get the surprise of his life in a few hours and I wasn’t going to lie and say that I wouldn’t enjoy it. “Are you sure you know what you're doing?” Dayna asked, possibly for the fifth time today. “Yes, I swear. You don’t have to be here, you know.” “Jett Walker,” she reprimanded. “How many times have I told you that you’re not getting rid of me?” Too many. But I still loved to hear it. “Fine, fine. I’ll see you at the clubhouse soon?” She nodded and we parted ways. Though I’d said nothing to Dayna, I could wish for nothing more than for her to steer clear of the clubhouse today. I wasn’t exactly hiding it from her; she knew what the meeting was about. After all I’d told her about Carson and how he’d fooled us all, she said that there was no way she’d be anywhere else. But I’d still prefer her to be far away, as in several planets away. She didn’t need to see what I had planned. I supposed there was nothing for it now. She knew every part of me and today wouldn’t change that. There was just one thing I had to do first. ### “Hi, Dad.” Though he had been dead for months, this was the first time I’d visited his grave in all that time. I had some guilt festering over my lack of visits and I figured now would be as good a time as any to pay him a visit.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come and visit you, I hope you understand.” I laughed uncomfortably. This was a lot stranger than I thought it would be. I’d seen people do it before and I could understand the appeal, it was still strange though. We didn’t talk enough when he was alive for me to be entirely comfortable holding a one-sided conversation with his tombstone. “I can’t really explain to you everything that you’ve missed since you’ve been gone. I can only hope that you’ve been watching from above and know what’s been happening generally.” It wasn’t like I expected him to answer but I couldn’t help pausing in between words and imagining what he’d say to me. “Today will be the day I finally avenge you, Dad.” Why hadn’t I brought flowers or something? “I know I’ve tried to do it before but today will be the day. I have the right person for one thing. I’m sure that’s the most important. I’m sorry that Carson betrayed you, Dad. But I’m going to make him pay. I’m going to make you proud.” That was really all I’d come for but I felt like there was something I was forgetting, something I’d wanted to say for a while. It was a lot harder to speak to him than I thought, even though I knew logically I was just speaking to myself. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better son. I’m sorry we didn’t have the best relationship. I’m going to make it up to you today though. I hope you’re watching over me, Dad.” There. That was it. That was all I’d wanted and planned to say to him and I’d done it. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as I’d made it out to be. “I’ll see you soon, okay? I’ll try to visit as often as I can. Bye Dad.” Yes, the conversation was one-sided and a little stilted, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. It was time to go and make him proud. ### I stood in the meeting room at the clubhouse and watched as people began to file in. A few of them asked me what it was all about, but I shook my head and told them they’d just have to wait. Before long, I was standing before the entire club with just one person missing. The pounding footsteps of Carson as he marched into the room had the corner of my lips tipping up. He was right on time. “Jett!” he yelled upon arrival. He hesitated slightly when he noticed the entire club was there as well but stiffened his shoulders and continued stomping towards me.

“What’s going on? And who gave you the right to call a club meeting?” Instead of answering in words, I pulled my gun from my jeans and planted it on the side of his head. Gasps sounded out across the room as everyone watched the scene play out. They probably thought I was insane but they’d come to understand everything soon enough. “Whoa, Jett. What are you doing?” Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, I pushed him down to the ground so that he was kneeling and I had the gun still pressed against his skull. “Something I should’ve done a long while ago.” “Jett, I don’t know what’s going on, but stop this right now. I’m your uncle and your President.” I ignored him yet again, pushing the gun harder into his head. “I’m going to give you two options. Confess or have your brains splattered all over the floor.” “What the fuck, Jett? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” “So, you choose option B then? Because I’d be more than happy to comply.” Something cold had taken over me and I was more and more sure that everyone thought I was mentally unstable. They all stayed back, though. Maybe it was out of fear or curiosity, but they were watching the entire event play out in silence. “Jett, listen to me. Calm down. I’ve done nothing to you. Just put down the gun and we can talk about this.” “Alright you have five seconds to confess before I shoot your brains out.” He still didn’t understand. How could he kneel on the floor with a gun to his head and still think I wouldn’t follow through with my promises? “Five ... four.” “Now wait, wait, wait!” “Three ...two.” “I said wait! I’ll confess, I swear.” “Yes, you will,” I said. He didn’t have any other choice. “Tell everyone what you did. Tell everyone how much of a rat you really are. You were always jealous of my father, ever since you were kids.”

The people in the room made some noise at that. We’d finally arrived at the reason I’d brought them here, though a few of them were probably still holding on to the thought that I was crazy. Carson looked around as well, no doubt catching everyone’s eyes on him and realizing he was all alone. I knew no one would help him now. He’d made no friends in his time as president. Even Mack, the Vice President, was getting tired of Carson. Mack hadn’t said anything, no one had, but I had eyes and ears and could see when he grew upset with certain decisions. Everyone tuned further in and watched the scenario unfold with keen eyes. “You knew you’d never be the man my father was!” I continued, raising my voice slightly. It appeared Carson had reached his breaking point at that. “He never had it in him!” Carson yelled. Yes. This was exactly what I was after. I needed cemented proof and Carson had just given it to me on a platter. “He never did what was necessary. He was too soft to make the hard decisions. This club is better off without him.” I looked up at the club members once more and was proud to see them frowning, shaking their heads and muttering in disagreement. “Billy was the best thing to ever happen to this club!” Someone called out, followed by a few more objections to Carson’s ridiculous claim. Comments like “You were a shit president,” and “I can’t believe you did that,” sounded out around the room. I couldn’t have asked for a better audience if I tried. “You killed your own brother. It wasn’t Joe who organized the hit, it was you.” I emphasised my point my jabbing him a little harder with every word. The club was enraged now, finally understanding why I’d gathered everyone and why I was going to such lengths. I dropped my voice a little. “You used me this entire time. My own uncle and you used me as a pawn.” “You’ll never learn, Jett. Billy was weak, and you’re just like him! I’d kill him all over again if I could!” That was it. He’d gone too far and judging by the look on his face as I slid the gun around so that it rested in between his eyes, he knew it as well. “Today will be the day my father is avenged.” “Go ahead, Jett. You don’t have the balls to go through with it. Like father, like son.” His taunts spurred me on as my finger twitched on the trigger, itching to go ahead and end all our misery. I was so caught up in the moment, completely ready to pull the trigger, when a scream caused me to pull back slightly and look up. “No, Jett. Stop!”

It was Dayna. When had she gotten here? I’d been so distracted I hadn’t even noticed Dayna come in. I wonder what she’d seen but more importantly, I regretted what she was about to see. “Not now, Dayna. You said it yourself, he deserves to pay for what he did.” Maybe I’d said it first but she agreed. Dayna was never slow to suggest justice be served, we just had different notions of what justice entailed. Like now for instance. I knew she was about to try and talk me down from pulling the trigger but it just wouldn’t happen. I needed to make my dad happy, I needed to make him proud. “Yes, he does. But not like this. If you kill him, you’ll be no better than him.” I shifted from foot to foot, arms still outstretched and the gun in front of me. Her words weren’t really affecting me, just her presence if anything. I wanted to tell her to stop, to go away so I could finish the job I had to do but I couldn’t bring the words to come out of my mouth. “It’s not going to bring your father back. Please don’t do this.” Did she think I didn’t know that? Did she think that after Carson was lying dead on the ground, I would look around and expect to see my father magically appear and begin speaking to me? No. I knew that wouldn’t happen, as much as I would wish for it every day. Dayna stepped forward until she was standing right beside me and placed a careful hand on my shoulder. Damn. She knew I couldn’t resist her touch. “Please,” she begged. “For me?” My eyes were narrowed with rage at Carson, my vision still filled with hatred, but her voice was still managing to get to me. I still couldn’t contemplate letting Carson go, I really couldn’t. Years he had spent planning to kill my father. Years he had spent lying to everyone and pretending he was a good guy. He’d fooled me for so long. He’d manipulated me. He made me try and kill someone who was twice the man Carson would ever be. Most importantly, he’d almost made me lose Dayna and that was something I could never forgive. “Please,” Dayna said again and I felt my entire body soften. Dayna. It was always going to come down to Dayna. I would lose her forever if I pulled the trigger, nothing would convince her that I wasn’t a cold-hearted killer after that point. I was so close to doing it though. After months and months of wanting it, I could finally get my revenge. My father could finally rest in peace. “What would your dad say?” What would Dad say? I was avenging his death and I knew he would be pleased about it. His brother had brought about his death. Who wouldn’t be pleased when justice was finally meted out?

I couldn’t remain quiet and pretend that what I really wanted wasn’t my father to come down the hall, capture my gaze like he’d so often do, and tell me he was proud of me. Just once. Just so I knew that he didn’t regret bringing me into the world, raising me and letting me go off as I did. And Dad would be proud of what I’d done today, I was sure of it. I’d sought out the truth and presented it to the club so that there was evidence of Carson’s crimes. Now none of them could ever turn it around on me and say I was crazy or power hungry. Just vengeful, and vengeful I could deal with. Yes, Dad would be happy. Dad would be … well he wouldn’t be grateful. That was too strong a word. He wasn’t the biggest fan of ‘unnecessary’ violence. If it could be dealt with in an easier way, then he’d prefer it. But Dad’s first thoughts were always about the club and so were mine. I was protecting the club and saving them all. I frowned. Deep down I knew that the club wasn’t really the main factor in my decision to go after Carson. In fact, it wasn’t even in the top three. Was this what Dayna was trying to say? Had I really convinced myself that Dad would be happy about turning me into a murderer? Was it really about my father anymore, or was it just about me? What would Dad think if he was watching now, knowing his death had ripped apart the club and his only son was about to kill his baby brother. No matter what Carson ever did, Dad was always the first one to forgive him, the first to make excuses for him. Dad loved Carson and had taken care of him his whole life, something that made Carson’s betrayal that much worse. “Is it really your dad that you're trying to please?” Those words had me rocking back on my feet. Who was I trying to please? No one was the first answer that came to mind, even though it was a lie. Was I trying to please my dad? Yes, but he wouldn’t be. Not at this. I could admit that now. That only left Carson, but that was just wrong. Wasn’t it? Carson had drilled me since Dad’s death with advice and principles and things I should do in certain situations. He’d ingrained in me the motivation to go after my father’s killer and keep going until they were dead. Well, now that pursuit had brought me to him, did he still want me to finish the job? Dayna was getting closer and closer to the truth. It was amazing how she could read me like she did. “I don’t want to lose you,” Dayna said softly. And I didn’t want to lose her. If I did this I could never be with her, I’d never see her again. That was something I wouldn’t be able to deal with. I slowly lowered the gun so that it was no longer pressed against my uncle’s temple and trained it on the

floor instead. The club was still surrounding us, all looking on stoically. I turned to them, standing as tall as I could and looking each and every one of them in the eye. “Will anyone testify? Will anyone confirm what they heard Carson say today?” There was a small moment’s pause before a hand went up. It was Mack, of course, always the first to volunteer, even if it meant betraying his role as Carson’s vice president. I supposed that Carson had never really counted as a president anyway. Mack had looked wrecked for days when he’d learned about his son’s betrayal, but he was standing by the club like he always had. Another hand went up and then another. Mark and Liam the twin brothers who were born into the club and never wanted to do anything else. More hands were going up. And then more still. Soon enough, every single hand in the room was in the air. I scanned every single face in the room and all of them looked back at me with the same expression; trust. They were all with me, every single one of them was willing to stand by me, and I would be forever grateful for that. “Someone call the police.” With no means of escape, Carson didn’t put up too much of a fight as we tied him up and sat him in a corner until the cops arrived. He knew there was no hope for him now. Frankly, he was lucky to be alive, though nobody expected him to get up and thank Dayna for saving him. She didn’t do it for him anyway. She did it for me, a realization that warmed my heart. Dayna leant against me, head against my chest and arms wrapped around my middle. “I’m proud of you,” she said lovingly. Maybe I’d never hear those words again from my father but somehow Dayna knew how much they meant to me and granted them to me freely, something that meant especially more at a time like this. At that moment, mere minutes after I’d listened to her and buried my notions of revenge, she proved to me that it was all worth it. It would always be worth it for Dayna.

Chapter Twenty-Five Dayna Roses were always my mother’s favorite. Not the red ones, she hated those. ‘Too cliché,’ she would say. Red roses were for bad first dates and Valentine’s day. She didn’t like the white ones either; they were too pristine and reminded her of her debutante years. Yellow roses, on the other hand, were perfect. ‘They’re always overlooked,’ Mom would say as she placed them in a vase time after time. Yellow roses were not so extravagant and gaudy but simple, humble, innocent. Yellow roses, in my mother’s firm opinion, let someone know that you cared about them, that you truly, deeply and honestly cared about them, but you didn’t need to show it in an overwhelming way. Those were the flowers Jett and I lay on her tombstone every month. I’d like to think that wherever she was, she’d look down at them and smile, knowing I was happy and still thinking about her. After all, that was all I could hope for anymore. “Are you ready to go?” Jett asked me, leaning down to plant a kiss on my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into it a bit further, savoring the sweet contact even though he gave me plenty of affection and often. I would never tire of the little things with Jett; the soft kisses, the loving touches, the sweet smiles. They were the best parts of my day now. “I think so,” I said. “Yeah, I am,” I continued more decisively. It still surprised me every day that I was moving on with my life, living in the moment and taking it day by day, but doing it happily. I bid my mom a final goodbye, something that didn’t haunt me as it once did. I wasn’t at the stage where I was completely okay with her absence yet. Some days were harder than others, but I was getting there. It was easier when I was with Jett. He let me talk about her whenever I needed to, just so I’d never forget all the many memories I cherished of her. In return, Jett would talk to me about his dad, which was something he was still getting used to. I insisted on it though, knowing it would help us cope, and it was. It was now Jett’s turn to say goodbye and he repeated the same thing he did every time he was here; he kissed three of his fingers and touched them gently to the top of the tombstone. “Thanks Kelly,” he whispered. Mom had done a lot for us. Jett and I both knew that her sacrifice was the sole reason we were together and we would never forget that or take it for granted. Hand in hand, Jett and I walked out of the cemetery, more at peace with the world and each other than we’d been in our entire lives. It had been three long months since Mom’s death and things had changed drastically in that time. First and foremost, Carson Walker had been sentenced to life in prison, unsurprisingly to all the members of the Hell’s Raiders. He’d confessed in front of the entire club his plot to get rid of his brother and showed no remorse at any time. With so many people able to testify against him, he stood no chance. It

still infuriated me that he never apologized or tried to repent through his entire case. I was glad he was finally out of our lives, though I knew Jett was still hurting over it. He’d had a gun pressed up against Carson’s head, ready to pull the trigger, but I knew deep down it would have killed him to do so. It didn’t matter what anyone, even Jett, tried to say about the matter, Carson was family and no matter what he did that would never change. It was never going to be easy for Jett to get over the fact that his uncle had betrayed his brother and nephew but Jett was healing. Healing the right way and that was all that mattered. We both just needed time before everything would even begin to seem like it was normal again. I’d like to think we were helping each other heal though. I’d moved into his apartment recently, though that was something that took a lot of convincing. “Move in with me,” Jett declared one night after a passionate time in bed. I’d laughed at first. “Are you serious?” “Dayna you’ve been living out of your suitcase in the hotel for months.” I sobered up pretty quickly when I realized he was serious. “But we’re so young.” It was a flimsy excuse, one that we both knew I didn’t believe at all, but I didn’t know what else to say at the time. “We haven’t been young for a long while, Dayna.” As usual, Jett was right. We loved each other, we’d been through hell together, why shouldn’t we move in? When it came down to it though, I wanted to be with him and a little decision like where I’d live didn’t seem worth the pain of being apart. We spent most of our time at either the shop or the club now anyway, so living together didn’t seem as daunting as it originally did. The Hell’s Raiders had undergone a massive change since Carson left. It was better now, safer and happier. It was hard to explain but all the members were a lot closer now, a lot more open. There were meetings every week, a lot of them about mainly nothing, but it kept the communication going. A lot of people had moved back into the clubhouse, since Carson had wanted everyone out of there while he was president. It was always busy when we were there. Chaotic but in a good way. Many wives and kids of club members stayed at the clubhouse more and more now, and weren’t afraid to be associated with each other. You’d walk into the compound and see kids mucking around, parents hanging out, food everywhere and smiles on everyone. I said to Jett one day, “It’s like we’re a big family now.” Jett smiled a bittersweet smile. “That’s the way it was always meant to be.” It pleased Jett to no end when he spoke about the club and what changes had been made. The biggest change of all though was with Jett himself.

After Carson’s arrest, everyone had come together and voted for a new President. It was unanimous. Jett had been so shocked when they’d turned to him and said they’d like for him to take over his father’s club. He was hesitant at first, not wanting to take over and grow bitter in the position, not wanting to be responsible if he couldn’t salvage the club. It was the word ‘father’ that made all the difference, though, knowing that the club was behind him and his dad and were disregarding everything that Carson had wanted. Jett had agreed eventually and promised then and there to all the club members that things were going to change. Whether or not anyone believed him didn’t matter, because in mere days, he had already started changing things. Jett was taking his job seriously, restoring the name that Hell’s Raiders once had was no easy task but with every passing day he got closer and closer to his goal. He had the whole club behind him as well. The truce between the Hell’s Raiders and the Succubi was the first big change that made people stop and take notice. Apart from it being much appreciated by both clubs, it was also heavily appreciated by the townspeople. No more club rivalries was good news all round. It wasn’t uncommon now to find Succubi staying at the clubhouse if they were passing through and vice versa. That was what made Jett most happy, knowing he’d helped create peace between two rival clubs, something his dad would have been proud of. “Is it bad to say that I’m glad everything worked out this way?” I said with a hint of guilt in my voice. It was unfair that we were so happy, wasn’t it?” “No, not at all. I feel the same,” Jett replied. “I finally feel like my mother’s death wasn’t in vain. That justice was served, you know?” “I do know. And I got you in return.” Jett grinned down at me, a goofy, carefree smile that made my heartrate kick up a notch. It felt like it had taken a lifetime for us to get to this point. To be young and happy and carefree. Not everything was always going to work out like this, but for now, we’d take what we could get.

THE END *** Thanks so much for finishing PRICE TAG: A Dark Bad Boy Romance. If

you enjoyed the book, I would love it if you could leave a review on Amazon for future readers. Your thoughtful comments are immensely helpful to both them and myself. Again, thank you. Hope you enjoyed the story! Keep reading for some sexy bonus content.

A Gift for You – SLASH: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

She’s virgin territory, and I’m ready to slash and burn. Love is for losers. There’s only one way of life for an alpha male like me: f*ck ‘em and leave ‘em. I let my c*ck do the talking, and believe me, it’s got a lot to say. But my carefree sex romp comes to a screeching halt when a cold-hearted bastard tries to strip away everything I’ve spent my life working hard to earn. He’s coming for my business, my brothers, and – if he has his way – my balls, too. Joke’s on him, though. I’m not going to rest until I take everything he holds dear. Starting with his spitfire of a fiancé. I snatch her away on their wedding day and take her to my bed. She can leave that white dress on the side of the road, because by the time I’m done with her, she’s gonna be the polar opposite of a virgin. Nothing in this world comes without a cost, though, and her man is out for blood. Do I give her up in the name of peace?

Or do I keep her for myself? I’m damned if I do and dead if I don’t. But I’ll set the world on fire before I submit.

Chapter 1 Slash The day had started off like any other day for Slash. He woke up early, exercised, made coffee for the clubhouse, and got ready for work. The air outside was crisp, with a hint of the changing season, like there were new beginnings just around the corner. Spring had come, and had brought with it warm afternoons. At least, that's how the morning felt to him as he rode his big chopper down to the business he owned and managed with the rest of the Battleborn Motorcycle Club. He rode through the center of town, the little burg still rubbing the sleep from its eyes and the sun not even peaking over the horizon yet, and pulled his rumbling bike into the parking lot. He parked at the back in a special “Bikes Only” zone they'd painted out on the black asphalt. Most of the guys that worked there rode their motorcycles to work, too, but they still had to make sure the customers had plenty of space for their cars. That was just good business practice, as far as Slash was concerned. Not only was Slash president of the Battleborn, he was also the head chef for Fresh B & B, a local diner that specialized in organic, localvore dishes. The small diner was the kind of place that had farm fresh eggs in the omelets, fair-trade coffee filling the French press, heirloom tomatoes adorning the chef salad, and prison tattoos on all the waiters and kitchen staff. All the guys that worked there were members of the MC. A lot of them were ex-cons, too. The club looked after its own, after all. If you went in, did your time, and kept your mouth shut, your old life would be waiting for you when you got back out. Your family would be supported, and so would you. Slash hadn't done any time. He'd managed to scrape by with no convictions, no matter how hard the district attorney tried to pin something on him. To some in law enforcement, the Battleborns were seen as public enemy number one. Lately, though, things had begun to die down as they moved into more legitimate work, like at B & B. Slash grabbed the carrying case for his chef knives from his saddle bag and headed up to the front door of the small diner. He fished for his keys and unlocked the front and let himself into the eating area with all its stacked tables and chairs, then headed back into the kitchen. The rest of the guys would be along closer to opening, and they'd take care of the incidentals like taking down chairs and wiping off tables. He had too much work as it was. They were only open six days a week for breakfast and lunch, Tuesday through Sunday, but each morning's opening duties fell by default on Slash's shoulders. He didn't mind. Far from it, actually. He'd come to savor the first hour or so, when he was all alone just chopping vegetables and getting fresh sauces and soups going. Having a bit of solitary time, away from the hustle and bustle of the thriving clubhouse, was good for him. These shifts gave him his daily moment of silence, a space where he could focus on just work without any outside interruptions or distractions. Now, as the industrial lights flickered on overhead, Slash was taken aback the same way he always was. The shining kitchen, just waiting to be used, with all its shining steel and chrome, reminded him of a perfectly tuned bike. Every object had a purpose, a specific use that was almost beautiful in its simplicity.

He set his knife case on one of the steel counters and went to wash up. It was time to get to work and get everything prepped. Unfortunately, that was when the phone decided to ring. The contraption was an ancient rotary phone that one of the guys had updated to produce dial tones for the modern era, but had decided to leave behind the old-fashioned ringer. The telephone was clamoring to be answered, the little metal bell going crazy like a lunatic on the night of a full moon. Slash sighed. “For fuck's sake,” he muttered, the words feeling foreign in his mouth after a silent morning. “Really? This early?” He checked his watch. Just past four-thirty. Whoever was calling, they probably had an excuse for why they weren't coming in. Something about this was strange, though. Most of the time, they'd have just called his cell. He grabbed the phone down off the hook and pressed the receiver to his ear. “B & B, Slash speaking. How can I help you?” “This call will be recorded and monitored,” said the recording of a woman's voice on the other end of the line. Slash instantly knew why they weren't calling on his personal phone. You couldn't get collect calls to go through on a personal cell phone. Especially not from a jail. The man's voice continued for the next part in the same digital monotone as before, till it got to his buddy's name. “You have a collect call from ... Jerry Rich.” He knew that recording. He'd received calls just like this one more times than he could count. “Aw shit, Jerry,” Slash said as he leaned his head forward and rested it against the wall of the kitchen. This wasn't good. Jerry was a hell of a bad ass. He could slam down a bottle of Jack by himself, then throw bull's eyes with a bowie knife right after. He rode his bike like a madman, screwed whatever woman wasn't nailed down to a brother, and could fight with the best of them. That was his credo: ‘Fight first. Fuck later.’ He also happened to be the best line cook Slash had on staff at B & B Fresh. And his shift started in less than thirty minutes. Slash needed him, and needed him bad. The recording continued on in the woman's inhuman voice. “... an inmate at ...” Slash took a deep breath, wondering what kind of shit Jerry had gotten himself into this time. He was one of the good ones. Rather, he was one of the better ones, Slash smirked. None of them were good, but some of them were better at not getting busted. Over the years, they'd gotten even better at it, too. He took another deep breath, waited for the next line. “Will you accept the charges?” “Yes,” Slash replied, trying hard to contain his annoyance.

“Slash?” Jerry's voice came on the line, his voice haggard and bedraggled. “That you, brother?” “Yeah, it's me, Jerry,” Slash replied and sighed. “You holding up alright?” “You know it, brother. Just calling to let you know my arraignment ain't for a couple days, and I clearly ain't going to be in to work this morning.” Slash let the silence hang for a minute, waited for Jerry to fill the gap in himself. “Sorry for having to call out,” Jerry mumbled. To his credit, he did sound genuinely sorry for the inconvenience. Not that it mattered much, but it was the thought that count. “We'll hold the line,” Slash said. He had to bite back the questions he had. What had he done? Was the deed something that concerned the MC? Instead, he continued on like this was no big deal, and his line cook called in incarcerated every couple weeks or so. “I'll send one of the guys round and we'll get bail posted soon as we can.” “Thanks, man,” Jerry replied. Both men knew not to discuss the crime over the phone. Whatever the cops had arrested him on may have been bullshit charges, or he may have been guilty as sin. But, you didn't have talks like that over a line you knew was being monitored. Hell, you didn't have conversations like that over the phone. Period. That was the first rule of business. “Stay strong, brother,” Slash said and hung up first. Months had passed since one of the guys had gotten picked up on a charge. They’d beaten the courts, on that case. Mainly because the victim in the assault case dropped their charges after a little talk with Slash. But, that was beside the point, right now. First thing, they had to get the restaurant open for business. Secondly, they had to get Jerry out from behind bars. None of his crew deserved to spend any more than the absolute minimum in jail, no matter how badly they'd screwed him on shifts at the restaurant. Slash pulled his phone out and started to make his calls. He hoped his second in command, Tiny, had his phone turned up loud enough to hear through his drunken stupor. Otherwise it was going to be a long day. A long, shitty day. As he listened to Tiny's phone ring on the other end of the line, his gaze swept the room and landed on the bulletin board next to the big metal walk-in refrigerator where they stored all their prepped food. He'd pinned a wedding invitation to the cork board a few months back. An old flame of his from way back in high school, Lacey Cox, was getting married to Wayne Walker, Slash's former best friend. Why she'd sent one of the elaborate cards to him, even after all these years, Slash had no idea. But, now, after one look at that invitation, all those old feelings, those yearnings came back to him. He realized that the wedding was supposed to be today. Today of all days. He turned his gaze away and focused on the wall. Tiny's phone just kept ringing. Shit. Slash sighed. Even if he did get a hold of his second in command, this was already shaping up to be a brutal day.

Chapter 2 Lacey The sun shown in through the windows of the bride room, nestled at the back of the church. It was Lacey Cox's wedding day. She had no idea how she was going to go through with marrying the son of a bitch. What had she been thinking getting this far into everything? “Look up for me, honey,” said the makeup artist, an attractive young woman with a mascara brush daintily held in one hand who looked like something out of a ‘Riot Grrl’ magazine spread. She leaned forward and applied the mascara, sculpting Lacey's eyelashes up and out, thickening and elongating them. Done, the younger woman turned back to her makeup case and began rummaging for the next tool in her arsenal. Lacey took the opportunity to watch the light dance on the far wall, wishing she could be just like a ray of sunlight. Shooting out into the galaxy, and somewhere far, far away from here. Just, please, take me anywhere but here. “You look gorgeous,” her oldest friend and maid of honor Cheryl cooed from behind her. She looked stunning in her burgundy bridesmaid gown. She had slipped in a few moments prior, but hadn't said a word as the young makeup artist applied Lacey's makeup. Now, she came up behind Lacey and put her hands on her bare shoulders, squeezed softly. “You're going to look so beautiful up there, next to Wayne.” Lacey forced a smile. She didn't feel gorgeous or beautiful. Instead, she felt like a sucker, like someone who was just going along for the ride. She knew deep down that none of this was worth the fancy clothes, the nice car, or the beautiful apartment Wayne provided for her with his salary and trust fund. She was a woman kept in a gilded cage, a pretty pet he could keep on his arm and display for all his family friends and future political donors. She was arm candy, and every time she thought about it, she wanted to wretch. Cheryl's eyes glanced down, caught the look in Lacey's. “You feeling okay, hon?” Lacey closed her eyes and shook her head. “Just nervous, that's all,” she partially lied. She was nervous, that was true. But, she was also terrified. Her husband-to-be was Wayne Walker, the junior district attorney. His family went far back in this town, and he had connections everywhere. He was handsome, well connected, and well heeled. He had graduated top of his class at law school, and he had big plans for his future. And mine, she thought disdainfully. To her friends and family, he was a catch. Wayne was almost the perfect man, it seemed. He took care of all her financial needs, giving her an ample allowance and everything she could want. But, like all things, if a deal was too good to be true, it probably was. She almost spat the words out, just then: that Wayne had gotten physical with her. Had been getting physical with her for a while now. But, Lacey knew she'd just look like a fool for letting her confession spill out of her that way, especially after the years and years of torment he'd put her through. Why hadn't she told them sooner, they'd ask. Why had she agreed to marry him?

For years, she'd thought everything would just magically get better. That he'd eventually lose that punchy tendency of his, to enforce his words with his hands. Her situation had only gotten worse and worse as she'd slipped more and more under his control. And now, she didn't know how to get out from under his thumb. He wouldn't let her get a job, or have friends he didn't approve of. Yes, she had money, but she was questioned about every penny she spent. She'd thought about just running away, about hopping on a plane and taking off for some part of the country, never to be seen or heard from again. Maybe get a passport and flee the country. But how would she live? She hadn't had a job in years, and all her money was tied up in accounts he controlled. And, if Lacey ever said a word, deep down she knew what would happen to her. She felt it, without being able to describe how. He'd kill her. For that reason, she didn't even want to imagine what bringing children into that life would be like. She'd be even more in his clutches, then. And, knowing him, he'd use the children against her. He was just that kind of man: small, petty, sadistic. “You sure?” Cheryl asked again, concern in her voice. “Want me to get you a pop or something, to keep your blood sugar up?” No, she didn't want a pop. She wanted to fly away, sail upon the wind like a fallen leaf, and land somewhere, anywhere, just so long as her destination wasn't here. “Sure,” Lacey replied, instead, a fake smile on her lips, “that sounds great.” Cheryl bustled out of the room to go find her friend a drink. “Almost finished,” the makeup artist said. “Already had your hair stylist in, I see.” “Just before you,” Lacey replied. “In and out, and working on the rest of us, now.” “You know, I gotta say you're taking this really well.” “How so?” Lacey asked as the younger woman pulled out her setting spray. “Well, for one,” the makeup artist said as she shook the bottle, “you're a lot calmer than most of the brides I deal with. Most of them are flying off the handle, frantic about this being their perfect day.” “Well,” Lacey said, closing her eyes as the woman began to spray her face, “that's why we hired a wedding coordinator. Besides, this was more about what he wanted.” “Him?” the woman asked, giving a light chuckle. “That's kind of funny. Most guys I've dated could give two shits about this kind of thing. Hell, my boyfriend thinks we should just do it on the beach.” “What about you?” Lacey asked.

“Me? I love weddings. Especially other people's! They pay my rent, after all.” She paused and grinned before continuing. “Mine, though? Beach doesn't sound too shabby, if you ask me.” Lacey smiled. Years ago, back in high school, she'd known a man like that. The kind of guy who was down to earth, strong, caring, good with his hands. Sure, he'd been a little awkward but looking back, who wasn't at that age? She'd chosen Wayne, instead. He promised her a great future, the kind of life she knew growing up. With his family's money and his future career prospects, Lacey knew he could deliver on those promises. Not for the first time, she doubted the decision she'd made all those years ago. She didn't even know where he was, anymore. He could be dead for all she knew, or a thousand miles away. “Well, this is more to impress his family, and their friends than it is to make me happy,” Lacey confided. “If it were up to me, I'd get married by Elvis in a Vegas drive-thru.” The girl grinned and began to look over her handiwork. “Almost there,” she said. “Just a few more minutes, and we'll be able to get you in that dress.” Lacey smiled, grateful she could at least let slip her own views on the wedding, if not her complete fear of the future. That was one small thing she had, at least. One small protest. Not that it mattered.

Chapter 3 Slash The cops came for Big Jim in the middle of the lunch rush. And they didn't bother with being polite about the arrest, either. If anything, they went out of their way to cause a scene for all the diners in attendance. “Can we at least do this outside?” Big Jim asked, his voice as controlled as he could possibly get it. “We've got paying customers in here, officer.” He was next to one of his tables, pitcher of iced tea in hand. Their drinks just sat there, full of ice, and empty of refreshment. It was almost sad, really. Tiny had run in back and grabbed Slash from the kitchen. Now, he stood at the lunch counter in his dirty white chef coat, drying his hands with one of the towels, keeping an eye on everything. First Jerry, now this. He couldn't think of anything else that could go wrong today. Big Jim hadn't come by that nickname by chance. At six-six and weighing in at two-sixty, a name like that was kind of a given. He loomed over the cop, his massive build making the matchup with the averagely built officer look almost comical. If things got out of hand, it wasn't going to end well for the boy in blue. Jim had done his time in the big house, doing a stretch on possession with intent to distribute. He had been head of that little side venture for the Battleborn for years, and had done a good job. Like all the others, he'd kept his mouth shut and his head down. When he came back, they'd had a position open for him at Fresh B & B. Part of the deal when he came back to the MC, though, was that he kept his nose clean. No former associates outside the crew, and no involvement in the shadier affairs of the business. “You talking back to me, boy?” the officer asked, bowing up to the much larger biker. He had three other patrolmen backing him, their radios squawking and beeping the whole time. “I said I was placing you under arrest.” “No, I ain't talking back,” Big Jim replied, clearly exasperated. He looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “I'm just asking you if we can take this outside.” Slash knew that was his cue to step in. “Jim,” he said, coming out from behind the counter. “I'll take your table. Just go ahead with them, okay?” “Slash,” Jim boomed, his voice starting to rise, “I just want to know what's going on. I didn't do nothing wrong, man.” The officer checked out Slash, sizing him up. Slash recognized that look. The officer knew who he was, knew his position in the MC. He could practically see the calculations going on behind their eyes. “We'll figure it out after the officers do what they need to do,” Slash said, ignoring the patrolman and reaching out to take the pitcher of tea from Big Jim. “Alright? You ain't gonna win an argument with a cop.” Slash could feel the tensions running high. It was like working in a steaming kitchen with all the burners

going, and the over door gaping open. And, with tensions this high, all it would take was a single spark. Jim finally sighed, resigned to his fate. Hands now free, he put his wrists behind his back and turned around to offer his hands to the officer. “James Chandler, I'm placing you under arrest for violation of the conditions of your parole,” the officer began as he snapped the cuffs down over Big Jim's wrists. He continued on in a monotonous drone, one that he'd clearly honed over years and years on the job performing similar arrests. This was old hat to him, just like it was old hat for Slash to dice onions. Just like with Jerry, they all knew this game. They all knew to keep their mouths shut, especially when the cops were trying to pin something on them. Slash just narrowed his eyes as he watched the proceedings. Just like Jerry, too, this hadn't come at the most opportune of times. They were trying to go legit, trying to get out from under all this pressure from the cops. And now, twice in twenty-four hours, the boys in blue had come down on them. They began to frog-march Big Jim out through the front doors. “Don't get too comfortable, boys,” said one of the cops back over his shoulder, his tone light and humorous. “New assistant DA says he's got y'all's number.” “New DA, huh?” Slash said to his back. “What's this new guy's name?” “Wayne Walker,” the cop said. Just before he let the door slam shut behind him, he turned back and looked Slash straight in the eyes. “Y'all folks have a nice day now, ya hear?” Wayne Walker. He felt his blood go cold. The same man who'd ruined things with him and Lacey. Slash's former best friend. Slash's hands clenched into fists, and his jaw clenched tight. What kind of sick joke was this? Did he want to take everything from him now? He watched through the big glass windows as the cops ducked Big Jim into the back of one of their squad cars. Soon, the disturbance was nearly forgotten, and the restaurant returned to its normal hustle and bustle. Minus one six-foot-six waiter, of course. The patrons barely even batted an eye. This was a restaurant run by a bunch of rough-and-tumble biker types, after all. As soon as the cops were gone, Slash disappeared in back. Tiny, his shaggy overweight second in command, followed after him. He looked in even more disarray than normal, his frizzy beard sticking out like every which way. He'd picked up the nickname years before, when he was about seventy-five pounds lighter. Like all nominal names, though, this one had stuck over time, and changing physical attributes. Sometimes, there were things that never changed, no matter how much they actually did. “Dude,” Tiny said as the swinging doors shut behind them, “what the fuck? First Jerry, now Big Jim? And what's with this Walker guy?” “I know him,” Slash said as he began to strip out of his chef coat. “He's an asshole, and apparently our new assistant DA.” “You know this guy?” Tiny asked, shock in his voice. He was clearly confused by the whole thing. “Yeah, I know the asshole,” Slash said as he tossed his coat aside and grabbed the wedding invitation

down from the bulletin board. “We went to school together. Guess you could say we got history. Need you to get on the phone with Big Jim's lawyer, and let 'em know what's going on, alright? If it's a parole violation, and it's for real, that means they're going to really try and turn the screws on him.” Slash went over and grabbed his leather jacket down from the peg where he'd hung it that morning. He pulled it on and headed for the door. “Wait,” Tiny said as he looked around the kitchen with a stunned expression. “Where the fuck you going, dude? You taking off or something? It's the fucking lunch rush, man. On a fucking Saturday!” Slash stopped in his tracks. “Got to, Tiny,” Slash said as he pushed through the double doors leading back out onto the floor. “There's a wedding I need to attend, and an asshole DA I gotta see.”

Chapter 4 Lacey Lacey glanced from her and Cheryl's reflection in the full-length mirror in front of her to the clock on the wall. Outside, in the actual church, she could hear the guests gathering and the musicians tuning their instruments. It wouldn't be long now, she knew. Her fate was about to be sealed. In here, they were surrounded by stray clothing and luggage bags. She hadn't shown up in her wedding dress, after all. It was too precious to just wear around. “You look so beautiful,” Cheryl said from beside her, her eyes almost beginning to tear up. “I'm so happy for you.” “I do, don't I?” Lacey asked, her thoughts sinking to a dark place. There was no denying what was plain as day. Admittedly, she did look beautiful in the gown she and Wayne had chosen, even with the ridiculously long train he'd insisted on. And, like with everything, whatever Wayne insisted on, he got. “It'll make more of a statement,” he'd said at the time. To her, though, the only statement the dress made was about how immobile she was while wearing it. How trapped she was, how trapped she'd allowed herself to become. It was like that train was everything wrong with her life, everything wrong with all the decisions she'd made up to this point. Trading comfort and poshness in one area for pain and torment in another. She realized, then, that she wanted her life back. But no one was simply going to give her free will back to her. She needed to take it. She needed to grab hold and pull it to her. “Are you ready for this?” Cheryl asked in her most cheery voice, snapping the bride back to reality by squeezing her bare shoulders. “Yeah,” Lacey replied with a weak smile, “I think so.” There was a knock at the door. “You almost ready in here, dear?” the wedding coordinator asked through the door. There was no hint of doubt in her voice, no expectation of impending disappointment. Poor woman. “Almost,” Cheryl called back, reassuring her. “We are, aren't we?” Lacey smiled as her eyes flickered over to one of the windows on the far wall, the one she'd been looking at earlier as she daydreamed about being a stray ray of sunshine. It was a fairly large picture window. Easily large enough for a grown woman to fit through. Even if she was wearing a wedding dress. “Just about,” Lacey said. “Can you give me a minute, though?”

“Honey?” her dad called through the door. “Almost ready? The natives are getting restless, dear.” “Just a minute, dad,” Lacey called back. “You still feeling bad?” Cheryl asked as she touched the back of her hand to Lacey's forehead. Lacey slapped her hand away, laughing as she did so. “I'm fine, silly. I just need a minute to ... I don't know, say goodbye to the single life?” Cheryl laughed. “Whatever,” she said as she leaned in and touched her cheek to her friend's. “Five minutes can't hurt, can it?” Her friend headed out into the hallway and quietly shut the door behind her. Lacey heard her on the other side of the door, soothing both the coordinator and her father. Thank god for Cheryl, and her help. Even if she didn't realize she was giving it. Finally alone, she sprang into action. She quickly removed the gown's unwieldy train and left the bundle of cloth in a crumpled mess on the floor. With that done, she grabbed her overnight bag off the chair she'd set it on earlier and began to throw any discarded clothes she could find inside of it. She hadn't packed much since they'd planned on going by the house before their so-called honeymoon. With her bag haphazardly packed, she went over to the big picture window and examined the frame. She could fit through easily. But her car wasn't here. Lacey had driven in with Cheryl. There wasn't much she could do about the vehicle situation at the moment but maybe if she could get away from the church grounds she could call an Uber and use that as her getaway. She chewed at her lip as she glanced from the window to the door and back again. The door to the hallway didn't have a lock, unfortunately. Someone might hear her in the hall if she started to mess with the window. Lacey went over and grabbed the chair her overnight bag had been resting on and carefully pulled it over to the door. “Honey?” her dad called from out in the hall, startling her. “You alright in there?” “Yep, be right there,” Lacey said from just on the other side of the door from him. “Just one more second, okay?” She didn't necessarily enjoy lying to her dad, or relish the thought of what she was about to put him through, but she didn't see any other way forward. There was no way in hell she could marry Wayne, and if she told her father what she planned he'd probably just try to talk her out of walking out this way. And, just like always, he'd win his argument and she’d roll over and listen to her him. Instead, she wedged the back of the chair under the doorknob. It would be difficult for him to win the argument if he couldn't have a chance to make one. She grabbed her bag and headed over to the window as someone began to jiggle the doorknob. She lifted the window and tossed her luggage through.

“Honey?” her dad called, his voice frantic. “Just tell me you're okay!” “I'm okay, dad,” Lacey called, then silently. “Better than I've felt in years.” She lifted the window the rest of the way, letting in the bright, fresh spring air. A hint of roses hit her nose, setting off a flash of memories about her grandma's backyard gardens. She didn't even want to think what Granny Cox's opinion of her running off would have been, had she still been alive to give it. Luckily, the church staff hadn't thought to put a screen in on this window. Either they didn't have a problem with bugs getting in, or maybe they understood that a bride sometimes needed to escape while the getting was good. Lacey hoped it was the latter as she tossed her overnight bag out through the window and onto the well-manicured grass, then followed after her flying luggage. A loud tearing sound ripped through the still morning air. Shocked, she looked back and saw the hem of her dress caught on a nail sticking out of the windowsill. “Son of a bitch,” she grumbled. It had been a pretty dress, and expensive. Back in the bridal room, her dad was pounding on the door. “Lacey! Honey!” It tore her heart out to run away like this. She didn't want to consider how her mother would react when she heard the news. Or how poor Cheryl and her other bridesmaids would take these events. They'd invested almost as much time in this wedding as she had, put just as much effort into this thing. She felt bad for pulling the rug out from under them like this, but she didn't have a choice. And then, of course, there was her Wayne. What were the consequences of embarrassing him like this? Whatever the case, it couldn’t be much worse than what she’d already endured. Besides, she'd made up her mind. Her dress was ruined, and she was now on the marital lam. She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. With her high heels still on, she took off across the church lawn and headed for a small path led through the trees and out to main road. The most important thing right now was to get away before anyone, especially Wayne, found her. Hopefully, she'd be able to figure things out from there. If not, she'd come up with something. She was determined, now.

Chapter 5 Slash Slash whipped down the road on his chopper. He ignored the speed limit signs as he stitched a line between the other vehicles, zigging and zagging in and out of traffic. Cars honked, but he didn't even bother to give them the finger. Besides, that would have meant taking his hand off the throttle. His knuckles were sore and white from how tightly he was gripping the handlebars. One name kept flashing in his mind like a giant bloody red neon sign: Wayne fucking Walker. The only son of a bitch he really had a problem with after so many years. He took a deep breath, though, and tried to control his anger. Beating the shit out of the new assistant DA on his wedding day wouldn't exactly be a great way to begin stating his case for why the Battleborn should be left alone, but Slash couldn't understand what the guy's deal was. They were trying to go completely legit, trying to divest all their less savory businesses and income streams. For the law to crack down on them now, when things were so sensitive, so in flux, was almost overly punitive, like something else was at work. It had to have something to do with their past, with the three of them: Slash, Lacey, and Wayne. Back in high school, the two young men had been a tight, if odd, pairing. Wayne had been on the student council and was the class president. Slash, back then, had been just another kid who'd lucked into a friendship with a richer kid. Even though they were from different sides of the track, so to speak, they'd had a tight bond. But, then along came Lacey. She'd been the new girl their senior year, a transfer student who'd come along when her dad's work relocated her family. Somehow, she'd fallen in with Slash and Wayne and their duo became a trio. For Slash, his friendship with Lacey was always something more. He'd been in love with her from the first day they'd met. Her smile, her easy laughter, her quiet, focused strength. He was drawn to her, longed for her. But Slash was an uncertain kid back then, scrawny and small, with no self-confidence. Times had changed, of course, but not fast enough. Not nearly fast enough. Wayne had felt the same way about her. He'd made his move first, before Slash could muster his courage. Seeing them together had gnawed at him until he'd finally confessed his feelings to Lacey. Things hadn't gone well from there, and when the dust settled and Slash's mind had cleared, she and Wayne were already gone. Off to college, and out of his life forever. At least, forever was what he'd thought. Now he didn't know what kind of feelings he had for her. He just knew he wanted her out of his head, and wanted Wayne Walker's meddling out of his dealings. The rest of the MC didn't deserve to be targets just because of some high school bullshit. That was asking too much of them. With all that swirling in his mind, he raced on, trying to beat the clock. He was just a few minutes away

when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He downshifted and veered to the side of the road, a symphony of car horns blaring in protest at his sudden stop. A beautiful bride in a flowing white gown was tramping through the trees. Mud crept up the hem of her dress and covered her heels, but her face was angelic. More than that, he recognized her almost instantly, and his blood seemed to stop in his veins. For years, he'd seen those beautiful eyes, those perfect lips, every time he closed his eyes at night. And, for just as many years, that face was the first thing he saw in his mind's eye when he woke up in the morning. It was her. Lacey Cox, coming out of the forest, walking away from the church. She wasn't more than twenty feet from him, but he could see the look of concern on her face plain as day. That same look she'd had in math class when she almost remembered how to do a problem, but couldn't quite get it. “Dustin?” she exclaimed, using the name his parents had given him. “Dustin Riley? Is that you?” Slash grinned. He hadn't seen her or heard her voice in years, and there was still something about her that lifted his spirits, made him feel like he was on cloud nine. “Lose your way, or something?” he asked as nonchalant as he could manage. “You're a biker now?” she asked, incredulous as she emphasized the word biker. She seemed oblivious to the rest of the traffic and the fact she was in a wedding dress as she stared at him. “And you wear leather?” “Like you've got any room to talk on weird outfits.” She hiked up the bag on her shoulder, readjusting the load, and looked down at herself. “Yeah, well, this is just for today.” He checked his watch like he didn't have a care in the world. “Don't you have some place to be right about now?” “Well, I did,” she said, and glanced back over her shoulder, almost like a scared animal on the run would. Something was wrong here. “Not doing it, then?” She shook her head. Slash sighed and looked away, down the road. “Wayne's gonna be pissed.” She shot daggers at him when he turned his gaze back to her. “That's the last thing I give a shit about,” she said. Something about her attitude, the way she held herself as she replied, said the exact opposite, though. She cared about his opinion, even if she didn't care about him. “Running away, then?” “Gonna try,” she said, a slow, uncertain smiling creeping onto her face. She seemed to hold her breath before saying, “Wanna help?” “Help out an old crush?” he asked, a little grin on his lips. “And piss off that motherfucker Wayne in the process?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Of course!” He jerked his thumb behind him. “Jump on.” She sighed in clear relief and swung a leg over the seat behind him and climbed aboard. With her overnight bag tucked between them, she leaned forward and instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist. He hated to admit something like this, even to himself, but it felt damn good to feel her touch again. Even after all these years, and all the changes that had happened in their lives. Except, this time, it was different. He was different. “Ready back there?” he asked over his shoulder. “Yeah,” she said, “let's go.” They took off, heading back the way Slash had just come. The cars blared another symphony as he cut across traffic, this time hollering out a victory call.

Chapter 6 Slash They pulled into the Battleborn clubhouse's parking lot on Slash's bike. Lacey's wedding gown had fluttered behind them the whole way, even though she'd wrapped up all its extraneous cloth beneath her when she'd straddled the seat and climbed aboard. He hadn't been able to think of any better place to take her. And she hadn't been able to come up with any solutions either. So, by default, they'd settled on the clubhouse. It was far from perfect, that was for sure, but at least Wayne would never come looking here for her. Besides, he didn't have any plans of letting her out of his sight. He wasn't exactly sure what kind of leverage it might give him over Wayne, but he could spot an opportunity coming from a mile away. And this woman right here was an opportunity if he'd ever seen one. “This your place?” Lacey asked, a note of disbelief in her voice as she looked around at the trees on the perimeter, and the old metal building in front of her. Clearly, it was the kind of place she wasn't used to. “Yeah. Why?” She shouldered her bag again, hitching it up a little higher. “No reason,” she replied. “Just, well, isn't it weird living in a place like this?” “Nah,” he said, reaching for the bag on her shoulder. “It's home.” She glanced down at his hand, and the help he offered, and just shook her head. “I've got it.” “Suit yourself,” Slash said, then headed off to the front door of the clubhouse, resisting the urge to look back and see if she followed. “How many guys live here?” she asked as they pushed through the entry and went inside. “We got rooms for seven or eight guys, me included,” Slash replied as they headed back to the small room reserved for him. “We keep it pretty low-key most nights, though. Weekends, all bets are off. Still, it ain't like it used to be. We all gotta earn an honest living now.” Her face was a case study in wonder as she looked around at the empty building, at the flags up on the wall, the posters and the hunting trophies. All the others were gone still. The ones who worked at Fresh B & B were probably still in the middle of their closing duties, and a lot of the other guys had errands, jobs, girlfriends, and all manner of other reasons to be out and about. “Honest living, huh?” she asked as they turned down the hall that led to the rooms. “Absolutely,” Slash said with a grin. “You're looking at the head chef and manager for Fresh B & B.”

“Wow! Really?” Lacey said, surprise in her voice. “I went in there once, but I didn't know you were the owner. I thought it was some guy named Slick, or Gash, or something.” “Slash,” he said, grinning. “That'd be me. I was probably in the back house, making your brunch.” “Slash? All of you guys got nicknames like that?” “Most of us,” he said. He shrugged as they turned a corner and were presented with a whole new row of doors. “So, which do you prefer? Dustin? Or Slash?” “Slash,” he growled. “Might confuse the guys otherwise.” “You run the whole thing? The restaurant, I mean.” “Yep,” he said as they stopped in front of his bunk door. “What'd you think? About the food?” “Had the eggs Benedict,” she replied, her words clearly less reserved on this topic than they had been on the subject of her wedding. “It was pretty good, I guess.” “Pretty good,” Slash said as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the door, “you guess?” She rolled her eyes. “The hollandaise was a little lumpier than I prefer, okay?” Slashed grunted. He'd never been able to take criticism well. Especially not when it came to his cooking. He turned back around and pushed the door open, leading her into his room. “Welcome to my digs,” he said as he flipped the light on and showed her his place for the first time. It wasn't perfect, and he’d be the first to admit it, but it was still home. “Oh,” she said, glancing around the room at all the license plates he'd gotten from the various states he'd visited, the shot glasses from all the national parks he'd ridden through and camped at, his various books and bike repair guides. “At least it's clean.” He hadn't expected her to be impressed. It was a bachelor pad, after all. A one room bunk with an attached bathroom. It wasn't exactly a place to settle into, that was for sure. She turned to smile at him and slowly reached out to grab his hand. “Thank you, by the way.” She paused and licked her lips as she wrapped her slender, soft fingers around his big callused paw. “I mean it. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along when you did.” Her touch sent tingles through his hand, through his body. He cursed himself. Part of him knew he shouldn't be acting like this. He'd pushed her out of his mind years ago, had thought he'd finally gotten over her. He was harboring the assistant DA's fiancée. He needed to be smart about this. One wrong move, and his ass would be on the line. “Well,” he replied, carefully taking his hand away from hers, “we used to be best friends, right? And,

clearly you don’t have anyone else, so here I am.” Her smile drooped into a frown as he removed her hand from his, but in the next moment she appeared to shake the funk off. She took her bag off her shoulder and tossed it on the bed. She sat down next to her piece of luggage and looked down at herself, at her muddy wedding dress. Silence filled the room, suffocating him. “So,” Slash said after a long, uncomfortable moment. There was an elephant in the room, and they both knew it was there. “About this wedding escape?” “What about it?” she mumbled, her eyes still downcast. “What happened with the ceremony?” he asked, trying to pick his words carefully. “Why'd you leave Wayne at the altar?” She pressed her lips together and toyed with the fabric of her dress, her hands pulling at the ruined material. She'd always fidgeted like this when she was nervous. “Nothing, then?” he growled. He didn't have much patience for this kind of thing. Never had, probably never would, and it was one thing that had always created a distance between them. “No explanation?” More silence. “Suit yourself, I guess,” he finally said. She just looked up at him after he spoke and kind of shrugged. “Not much to say, really,” she said after a while and gave him a weak smile. “Just didn't want to marry him, I guess.” He slowly nodded his head. “Well, alright then,” he said. He could push and pry all day long if he wanted, but if this Lacey Cox was anything like the Lacey Cox he'd known all those years ago, she wasn't going to budge if she didn't want to. And, clearly, she didn't want to. Outside, the noise of multiple bikes began to fill the lot and the surrounding area. It was about that time, Slash figured, for the guys to be coming back after closing up at the diner. He raised a calming hand as she looked around, almost a little frantically. “It's cool,” he said. “It's just the guys getting back. Nothing serious.” “Oh,” she said, calming a little. “What are they going to say about me being here?” It was his turn to shrug. “Dunno. I'm the president, though, so I've got more than a little say on whether or not you stick around.” “The president?” she asked, her eyes lighting up as she gave a little laugh. “You're the head of these guys?” Slash grinned. “Yep. Been top dog for a couple years now.”

“So, you think they'll let me lay low here for a while?” “Ain't gonna know until I put it to a vote.” Truthfully, he wasn't sure of what their initial reaction would be. He still hadn't told her about Wayne coming after the MC, putting their guys in jail, or any of the Battleborn's other plans. And, for now, things were going to stay that way. He didn't want her to think she was just being used, even if that’s what it looked like. He realized now, as he stood in the same room with her, that he did have feelings for her. Latent, deep, almost below his consciousness, but there nonetheless. He hadn't gotten rid of them, he'd just buried them down deep enough to forget about them. He frowned. Some of the guys might want to play it safe, and keep clear of her because of her relationship with Wayne. They wouldn't want to stir that pot. But, deep down he knew something wasn't right about this, about the way she'd just left him at the altar. Sure, the guy had been kind of a dick before, when they were back in high school. But, the two of them been together all this time. She wouldn't have left him without good reason. Regardless of the outcome, he needed to convince the rest of the Battleborn of his plan, and Lacey was at the heart of it. Otherwise, they'd think he was just asking them to stick their necks out to protect an old flame of his, and he couldn't ask something like that of them. Not even under better circumstances. “No idea, then?” Slash shrugged and gave her his best poker face. “Better get to it. You stay here and get settled.” “Yeah,” she replied. “I'll get changed and stuff.” He nodded and excused himself from the room. He made sure the door was closed completely behind him and headed out to the living area. The guys were already hooting, hollering, and cracking beers. They were off work, after all.

Chapter 7 Lacey Lacey stayed on Dustin's bed ... wait ... no. She'd have to keep reminding herself that he wasn't Dustin Riley anymore. He was Slash, now. Which, if she was going to be honest with herself, fit him a lot better. Especially after how he'd changed. Back in high school he'd been a string bean, the type of guy who was held together by just bones, strips of sinew, and a prayer. Now, though ... Goddamn, what a transformation! She stifled a giggle as she thought about it. She'd been able to feel his rippling abs beneath his shirt as she held onto the back of his bike. She pictures his arms flexing on the handlebars. Of course, he wasn't a bad looking guy before. He'd always had a strong chin, with a great jaw line. She could almost imagine those arms of his, holding her close, holding her tightly. He was strong, stronger than Wayne, she was sure. Deep down, she could see a hidden tenderness beneath all his tattoos and scars. It was in the way he looked at her, the way his eyes lingered on her. Did he still have feelings for her? Like he had back then? God, she couldn't believe she was actually thinking this way. She'd just left her fiancée at the altar and thrown her old life away. Instead of thinking of her next move, she was thinking of another man, and how his body would feel pressed against hers. She shook her head, clearing the steamy thoughts of her old high school friend from her mind. There was a time and place for that kind of thing, and it wasn't here. Dustin ... Slash at least seemed hopeful the rest of the guys would let her stay. That was a start, at least, a jumping off point. She sighed and looked around the room. Yeah, the little place was a bachelor pad. There was nothing feminine about this place, no woman's touch. She grabbed her overnight bag off the bed and got up to go into the restroom. She stripped out of her wedding dress and began to change back into the jeans and top she'd worn earlier in the day. As she did, she began to consider her options, mentally lay out what was available to her. If Wayne hadn't frozen her accounts out of spite, he'd be checking on any kind of purchases she made. He had the passwords on those, had all the control. Which meant she'd be depending on Slash for support and shelter. That might work, but she hated the idea of relying on him, even after everything. Lacey dug her phone out of her bag. She'd put the ringer on silent as she'd trampled through the forest, ruining her dress and shoes. The ringing had been so incessant, so irritating. She couldn't bear to turn it off

and have her father’s voice go to voicemail. In this day and age, there just seemed something so undignified about that, so disrespectful. It was like ghosting on someone you were dating. She just couldn't do it. Of course, she realized, that was what she'd just done. Even if it had been out of desperation. Twenty missed calls, all from the usual suspects. Ten from her father, also on behalf of her mother, Lacey was sure. Nine from Cheryl, of course. Just one from Wayne. She didn't need to listen to his voicemail to know the hidden threats that would be contained in his words, the promises of shame both physical and emotional that he'd heap on her for the stunt she'd just pulled. One thing was for certain. She didn't need to put herself through that. Not yet, at last. She kept the phone on silent and dropped it back in her bag. She'd call her father and Cheryl later, after things were decided by Slash and his friends. Once she knew she was safe and had a place to stay. She checked herself out in the mirror. Her makeup artist had been great. Even tramping through the trees, and riding on the back of Slash's bike, it had barely smudged at all. Now, though, she turned her thoughts back to Slash. A man like that, he was dangerous. She knew that. She'd seen the movies, the TV shows. Men like him, they were used to getting what they wanted. And he wanted her. She'd felt his eyes on her, even in her wedding dress. Felt them tracing over her bare shoulders, over the line of her neck, and the swell of her breasts. She was willing to bet that, even after all these years, he still wanted her. Old flames died hard, wasn’t that the saying? Again, she found herself thinking about him. Lacey could feel her heart racing in her chest as she considered what his muscular tanned body would look like beneath that tight white shirt of his. How the rest of him would feel ... Shit. Why was she so excited by the prospect of Slash taking his payment from her in the form of her body?

Chapter 8 Slash “So, lemme get this straight,” Tiny said, his best belly heaving under his vest and shirt, “you're telling us, we got the fiancée of the motherfucker who literally just put our boys away this fucking morning hiding out in your goddamned bunk?” Slash and seven of the other Battleborn were seated in the conference room around their central folding table. This was a safe place, the only safe place, to discuss business of this nature. It was sound proofed, checked for bugs on a regular basis, and all their cell phones were left outside in the kitchen freezer, with their batteries disconnected. Business like this didn't happen outside the room. Slash nodded. “That's what I'm telling you.” “And, you and this chick,” said Maverick, one of the other guys, “you go back to high school?” “Right,” Slash replied. “Slash, man,” Tiny said as he lay his hands out flat on the table, palms up, and shook his head slowly from side to side, “I don't know what you want us to do with this. I mean, this shit's fucked up. This could be considered kidnapping or some shit.” “Kidnapping?” Slash asked. “She's here on her own, man. You can ask her. Any of y'all can. She climbed on my bike of her own free will.” “You know as well as I do,” Tiny replied, “that don't mean nothing. They can pin all sorts of shit on people. Look at what they're doing to our boys already.” Slash nodded. It was a concern of his, especially with the precarious situation they were already in with the transition from illegal to legit business affairs. This was a bad time for everything to happen, but it was happening regardless of how they felt. “I see your point,” he said, biting the inside of his mouth as he mulled it over. “But, how're they going to know she's here? She's got as much interest in staying gone as we do.” There were murmurs of agreement around the table. “Alright,” Tiny said. “I'll give you that. But, say we're able to help her. What's in it for us?” “Leverage,” Slash said, leaning forward and propping his elbows on the table. “I'm telling you guys, there's something here. Something she ain't telling me yet.” “So, you want us to just protect her like some goddamn Snow White, then?”

“At least until I can figure out what she's got on this guy. That's all I'm asking for. Maybe she can give us enough to get rid of him, disgrace him or some shit.” “I don't know,” Tiny said, shaking his head. He may have been Slash's second, but he always had the club's best interest at heart. And he sure as hell wasn't some pansy-ass yes man. That’s one reason Slash had elected him to be his right-hand man. “Well, why else would she leave this guy at the altar?” Slash asked. “Maybe,” suggested Rat, a big, musclebound biker that had just gotten patched last year, “she just ain't in love with him no more.” Rat wasn't exactly the best name for him, but that was the nickname one he'd come with when he asked to become a prospect. Silence ruled the table for a moment, as all the men mulled this idea over in their heads. “Well, why the hell would she still have been with him for so long?” Slash asked, shaking his head. “They were together for years, Rat. Why up and leave him now? Hell, why did she even agree to the wedding in the first place?” “Could she have met someone else?” suggested one of the other guys. “Wouldn't make sense, either,” Tiny replied. All eyes turned to him. “Well, she would've run off with him, then. Right? Instead of Slash?” Nods of approval went around the room. Slash had to hold back a laugh. These guys could run a statewide criminal syndicate, put fear into the hearts of other MCs, and be dangerous enough to have the local authorities on edge. But they couldn't figure out why one woman left her fiancée at the altar. It really was pretty funny in a surreal kind of way. The Marx Brothers would've had a field day. After a little while, Slash spoke up. “I want to remind everyone, though, what's on the line here. We're about to be legit, guys. No more dealing, no more running guns, no more pulling protection on other dealers, or fighting for territory the way we used to.” Slash paused for effect as heads began to nod around the table. “This is about us making our money legally, about us not having to launder our money anymore. When we get these other deals settled, we're gonna be free and clear ... and legal. No more worries about jail or prison, just focusing on the future and building something better for ourselves and the people that come after us.” He paused and licked his suddenly dry lips before beginning again. “Now, I think Lacey, she's the key here. I think. I need y'all to trust me on this, just like you did with Fresh B & B, and just like y'all have been with everything else.” The other Battleborn murmured their support, murmured their misgivings. There was a lot on the line, just like he'd said. But, sometimes life was like gambling. You couldn't win if you didn't take the risk. No one won at roulette unless they spun the wheel.

“So, what do y'all say, then? Should we put it to a vote?” Slash asked after a couple more minutes of wild conjectures were thrown around and promptly shot down. There wasn't the full MC present, but they had enough to outnumber the other guys if their decision was unanimous. “Should we keep her and protect her?” A few more moments of rumbling, then, finally, some reluctant shrugs. “Yeah,” Tiny said. “Let's vote. A preliminary one, until we can get a full meeting.” Slash nodded. Since he was president of the MC, his vote counted twice, according to the bylaws of the Battleborn. But, two votes were generally only enough to sway a vote when things were tight. In his experience, there was generally consensus amongst the men. He felt like they wanted it that way, to act with one voice instead of as a fractured crowd. The club was about solidarity to outside threats, after all, to people who wanted to tell them how to live. But, at least with this preliminary vote, he'd be able to feel out the group. Later, when everything came down to a full vote, he was confident that either the situation would be over, and Lacey would be gone, or he'd have gotten them in so much trouble that a vote wouldn't matter one way or another. “All in favor?” Slash asked, raising his hand. Everyone at the table, every single one of them, slowly raised their hand. “Then it moves forward,” he said. “We'll see what we can get out of her, and in the meantime, we'll keep her warm and fed and out of sight. Next full meeting we get, we'll call another vote. Cool?” “Cool,” Tiny agreed. “Motion's carried, then?” Slash asked the room. All the men nodded their head, silent as the gravity of what they'd just agreed to do began to set in. Times ahead were going to be tough, but Slash knew he and the rest of the Battleborn would be up to the challenge. They always had been, always would be. They were Battleborn, after all.

Chapter 9 Lacey “No, dad,” Lacey said into her phone, “I'm fine. I'm somewhere safe, okay?” “I just don't understand why you can't tell me what's going on, honey. Your mom and I are worried sick about you.” She was seated on the edge of Slash's bed again, but this time in her old clothes. The soiled and ruined wedding dress was draped over the back of a chair that stood in the corner. It seemed to glare at her with insubstantial eyes, like the conglomeration of cloth and tulle resented her for not using it properly. She twirled a strand of hair idly and averted her eyes from the dress, from the guilt. “Dad, I'm fine, alright. I'll tell you when I'm ready to come home.” “But, why are you hiding, hon?” he asked, genuine bewilderment in his voice. What she wanted to say was: “Because my ex-fiancée is a sick fuck who's been physically and emotionally been abusing me for years, and I know it'll just be a matter of time before he murders me.” Instead, she merely shrugged it off. “I don't want to talk about it right now.” “Lacey, honey, you gotta tell us, though. Wayne's not saying anything to either of us, but I can tell his parents are really upset. Well, his father is. His mother's just a wino.” Lacey laughed knowingly. “Yeah, that sounds like her. Valium and Chardonnay. Don't worry, that doesn't have anything to do with me leaving her son at the altar.” “It's just ...” her dad started to say, then trailed off. “I ... I don't know.” “What dad?” Lacey asked. Her dad had always been forthcoming with her, even if she hadn't been that way with him, especially over the last few years. “What's wrong?” “What you did,” he said after a while, trying to pick his words. “I know you probably had good reason, or thought you did, at least. But ...” “But what?” “It was just rude,” he said, his voice rising out of the pleasant, mild-mannered decibel range he normally kept. Lacey was surprised he'd actually raised his voice like that. The word choice, though, was all too familiar. To her dad, politeness ruled over everything. He was the most polite, considerate man she'd ever met in her life. Everything he did, even in private, was seemingly dedicated to preserving civil order.

He'd never yelled at her when she was growing up, never struck her in anger, or even as a punishment. He was simply ‘nice,’... but not in an artificial way, like two-faced Wayne. He was genuine, true to his word. It killed her to have to hurt him this way, and her she felt herself choke up a little. “I'm ... I'm sorry, dad. This is something I had to do. And, I guess it hadn't seemed real until the day of. So, I'm sorry. Okay?” Silence on the other end of the line. Lacey's heart sunk. “Dad?” “I'm here.” He sighed into the phone. A long, sad sigh that carried with it the weight of years of parental responsibility. “Well, I love you, honey. And your mom does, too. Call us when you can, okay?” She smiled at his words. She knew they loved her, but his words just seemed to alleviate some of the guilt she was feeling. “Okay, dad, I will,” she said. “You can count on it. And I love you guys, too.” “Okay,” he said, and she could tell her probably had his lips tightly pressed together like he always did in this kind of situation. “We'll talk to you soon, honey. I love you.” “Bye, dad. I love you.” She ended the call and dropped the phone down on the bed next to her. Well, that had actually gone better than she hoped. She hated leaving her dad in the dark like this, but there wasn't anything else she could think to do. She couldn't exactly tell him she was crashed out with a bunch of bikers on the outskirts of town. That definitely wouldn't have flown. But, at least now he and her mom knew she was safe. She rearranged herself on the bed, pulling her legs up and crossing them. She rested her face in her hands, with her elbows on her knees, and stayed like that for a moment. She needed to call Wayne next. She didn't know how she was going to do handle it, though. How could she call her tormentor, especially after this slap in the face she'd just given him? He'd be out for blood. Just, then, though, the handle on Slash's door turned. She looked up from her cradle to see her old friend return, two cups of coffee in one hand. “Thought you might need some,” Slash said, gesturing with the coffee. Lacey smiled up at him. “Got anything stronger?” she asked. He smiled a little smile and set the cups down on top of his old, beaten down dresser. “Bourbon okay?” he asked as he pulled open the top drawer and pulled out a bottle of Buffalo Trace. “Please,” she said, nodding. Her eyes tracked over him, over his MC vest, over his arms. They looked even better than when she'd first seen them on the side of the road. He opened the bottle and began to pour a finger or so in each cup. “Gave you cream,” he said as he poured her dram, “and a little sugar.”

“Perfect,” she said as she took the warm cup from him. “So, what'd you guys decide?” He took a sip of his coffee. “We put it to a vote,” he said over the lip of his mug, his steely eyes boring into hers, “and you can stay.” If she hadn't been holding he hot cup of spiked coffee in her hands, she would have burst out in applause. That was the first good news she'd heard in ages. Literally. “But,” he said. Her heart sank. “But?” she murmured. “You can stay, for now,” he said, emphasizing the last two words. “That was a preliminary vote, since the whole club wasn't here.” “Geez,” she said, “how often do you guys vote?” “Just on big things,” he said. “But, it was unanimous, which is good. Like I said, we'll still need another one.” “When will that be?” He shrugged. “When all the guys are in one place. Could be in a couple days, could be next week. We got a couple guys in lockup right now, so it might be a while.” She hadn't known about that! She made a face. “In lockup?” she asked. He nodded, solemnly. “Wayne.” All she needed was that one word. So, her fiancée was coming after them, too. She didn't know why, though. Maybe, she figured, they were just easy pickings. He'd always been more interested in his career than anything else, and he already had his eye on the District Attorney's job. All he needed to get there was some good headlines. And a notorious MC like Slash and his friends would fit that bill perfectly. She took a sip of coffee. The hot liquor burned at the same time it soothed. “Guess it's time,” Slash said after a while, “we discussed the sleeping arrangement here. The two guys I mentioned, they don't have bunks here, so we're full at the moment.” Here it came. A mixture of heady desire and trepidation filled Lacey. She hadn't ever slept with another man besides Wayne. In one sense, she was attracted to Slash, but she still couldn’t figure him out. Had the tension she’d felt earlier between them been sexual in nature. Her mind wandered again as she wondered what he would be like. Would he be too rough with her? Could she handle a man like him? And would she be woman enough to satisfy his needs? It wasn't the expectation of sex that worried her, really. She'd been going through that with Wayne for years. Paying for her room and board with her body had become almost second nature.

“So, I hope my bed is comfortable enough for you,” Slash said. “Don't worry, I'm taking the couch in the rec room.” A bit of a shock hit her, then. “You ... you're not ...?” “Not what?” Slash asked, clearly confused. He hadn't been planning on taking advantage of her at all, she realized. She was a person in need, to him, not some piece of meat he could use for his every whim. Inside, she was ecstatic that he wasn't like that. At the same time, though, she was a little hurt he didn't seem to want her in that way. She blushed and shook her head and looked down at her bourbon-laced coffee. “Nothing,” she muttered. “Nothing, I guess.” “Uh ...” he said. “Oh ... kay?” She looked back up at him, a small, soft smile on her face now. “Anything else I should know about?” “Yeah,” he said, setting his coffee cup back on the dresser. “Don't be worried about the guys. They know who you are, and they know you're my friend. They're all gruff, mostly, and may mess with you a bit, but if the MC says it'll protect you, that's what we'll all do.” She nodded, a flush growing on her face, and her smile growing bigger. “What?” Slash asked, returning her smile. She shook her head. “Nothing.” She looked back down at her coffee, thinking about her words. “It's just that, well, I'm wondering where you've been all this time. You and your guys. And, I'm just thinking about how lucky I was that you happened to be riding by.” “Guess that's what it was,” he said. “Luck. I wasn't even planning on going to the wedding, you know. But, then Wayne had one of the guys arrested at the restaurant.” She smiled, but then thought about what he'd just said. She cocked her head to the side. “How'd you know about the wedding? Hear about it on Facebook or something?” “No,” he said and gave her a perplexed look. “You sent me an invitation at the restaurant. Didn't you?” She shook her head. “I didn't even know you were still around, remember?” “Oh ...” Slash said, his brow furrowed. “That means Wayne must have.” “Why, though?” He shook his head. “This is just too weird.” He let the subject drop after that. It was probably for the best they didn't dwell too much on Wayne's obsessiveness.

“Well, tell you what,” she said after another sip of the spiked coffee, “how about I take a shower and get some of this makeup off?” “Yeah,” Slash said, grabbing his coffee mug off the dresser and heading to the door, “probably a good idea. Bathroom's through there. Faucet's a little finicky on the hot water, so be careful. It'll scald.” She drank down the rest of her coffee and got up off the bed. “Don't worry, I'll be careful.”

Chapter 10 Slash He closed the door quietly behind him and headed out into the rec area. Tiny and a few of the guys were playing cards, and some others were just throwing darts. They didn't have any clear direction, no overriding goal to keep them focused. So, now, it was just time to sit and wait. Tom Petty had been right. Waiting was actually the hardest part. Tiny looked up from his hand. “She settling in alright?” Slash shrugged. “Guess so. She's taking a shower right now.” He considered mentioning the revelation about the wedding invitation, about the card being from Wayne, and not Lacey. But, something like that wouldn't have done any good, or served any purpose. All he'd do is raise some hackles and get some of the guys more concerned than they needed to be at that point. Besides, they'd all voted on the matter. For the time being, everything was settled in the MC. At the same time, though, not telling them immediately was eating away at his insides. He wasn't normally one to keep something from the guys unless it was because of compartmentalizing their “business.” In that case, keeping information back was as much for the MC's safety as it was for his. This was a different matter. Didn't they deserve to know that the new assistant DA had a hard-on for them, one that went beyond just making a name for himself? “You okay, buddy?” Tiny said after a moment. Slash waved him off and pushed the thoughts from his mind. “Nah, I'm fine. Just thinking about all this stuff, why she left him. That kind of shit.” His second-in-command nodded, understanding. “It's screwy, buddy. Real screwy.” Then, Slash remembered something. He didn't have any clean towels in his bathroom. “Shit,” he muttered. “Towels.” Tiny laughed as slash turned and stalked out of the rec room and went to the central linen closet. With as many beds as they had, and as many showers, they had to have a central place to keep everything organized. He opened the closet up and pulled down a couple towels, tucked them under his arm, and headed back down to his bunk. He pushed the door open without even thinking about it and marched into his bedroom. Lacey had left her clothes on the floor, making a trail that led right into the bathroom. He could hear the shower running but, for some reason, it just didn't register that he should knock. This was his bathroom, after all. He hardly even let the girls from the club shower in there. He was too worried they might see too much in such a small gesture and start getting clingy.

He pushed the door open and walked right in, towels still tucked under one arm. Naked, Lacey was half hidden by the curtain as she leaned in to adjust the water. She turned and cried out, a startled yelp that jarred Slash and caused him to drop his bundle. She yanked the curtain in front of her instinctively, trying to cover her nude form from his sight. “Oh, shit!” Slash said, startled by her reaction, and the fact that she was naked in front of him for the first time ever. He went to cover his eyes but couldn’t help catching a glimpse of her wonderful body. He also couldn’t help notice the imperfections. Mottled purple bruises covered her torso. The last time Slash had seen something that bad, it had been on his own body when he'd slipped up on his bike. They were everywhere clothes would always cover: the top of her thighs, her back, her stomach, her ribs. Big, fist-sized bruises that marred her perfect skin. His vision went red with rage. It didn’t take much to fill in the pieces. The thought that Wayne could have won her in high school the way he did, then hurt her like this! For a moment, he flashed back to when he was growing up, when he'd seen the black eye on his mother's face. Back then, it had been a feeling of helplessness that had flooded him. Now, though, he understood why some people murdered. Why some people killed in a blind passion. He stepped towards her, hand outstretched. “Lacey, Jesus-” She flinched back, her eyes wide, her lower lip trembling. “Please,” she whispered, her words seemingly catching in her throat. “Just give me a second.” Something inside Slash broke. Like a hand had reached into his chest, grabbed his heart, and began to squeeze. He turned away from her, to give her privacy, and put the towels on the sink. He walked back out into his bunk and sat down on the bed, trying to control his breathing. He needed to control his breath, he knew, or he'd fly off the handle and do something crazy. And he couldn't have that. Not now. Not anymore. He'd loved this woman since the first time he saw her all those years ago. Loved how fierce she'd been, how strong and sure of herself. Now, here she was, carrying the marks of that motherfucker. Cringing away from him like an injured animal. In the bathroom, the curtain rings clinked together as Lacey got in the shower and pulled the curtain closed. Now, Slash knew why she'd left him at the altar. He shook his head, but kept his breathing steady. If only she'd left him earlier. He ...knew that women in those kinds of situations sometimes didn't have options, didn't have choices. They thought no one would believe them, no one would help. And, if they did say a word, their abuser might come for them, might hurt them worse. His mother had been that way. She'd stayed with Slash's dad until the old man croaked from lung cancer. Slash had enjoyed watching that, the old piece of shit's hair falling out, his skin going flabby and yellow as he withered away to nothing but a husk that couldn't harm a fly. Where Slash had grown up, on that side of town, wife beating was pretty common, especially on a Saturday night after a husband had had a few beers. No one called the cops about a few yells, or some

screams of pain. Cops were for the rich people that could afford lawyers. People like Wayne, and his family. Slash had vowed to never touch a woman like that. Not ever. He'd kill himself before he became like his father. He could see now why Lacey was so reticent about discussing why she'd left. To be on the run from your abuser was one thing. To have that same man be a member of law enforcement as district attorney was something else. Who would handle a restraining order? Who would even believe her? He hung his head, cradled it in his hands. If Lacey went forward with her experience, that's all they'd need to ruin Wayne and get them off his back, though. The MC could tear down his career in the eyes of the public, burn his reputation to the ground. No problem. That would still be too good for the likes of Wayne Walker. Men like that needed to pay. They needed to pay in blood. Men like him would continue to prey on other women somewhere else. This needed to end with her. Lacey had to be the last one, no matter what. A few minutes later, she got out of the shower and came to the bedroom door. She'd wrapped the towel around her body, hiding herself and the marks Wayne had left on her. She looked just as beautiful with her makeup removed and her hair down. “Still wondering why I left him?” she asked in a quiet voice. He shook his head and sighed. “No. How long has it been going on?” She came over and sat down on the bed next to him, close enough that her damp thigh pressed against his denim-clad leg. “Since after college, when he was in law school. He'd come home after blowing off some steam with a few beers down at the bar.” He'd heard the same thing from his mother. His father had just been blowing off some steam. Slash nodded as she spoke and sat there silently watching his hands. His hands that hadn't been able to protect the women in his life. “First time he did it, he swore it would never happen again,” she said and gave a dry, mirthless chuckle. “The second time, he promised again. The third, he didn't even bother.” She reached down, touched Slash's hand. “Years, then,” Slash said. It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact. “Yeah,” she said. “Years. Soon, it just felt normal, you know? Well, not normal. But, like, this is my life? This is just how it is.” He nodded again. Humans were so adaptable, they could get used to anything, like frogs in a pot water you set to boil. But, sometimes, they reached their breaking point, like she had. “You could have called me,” he said after a while. She smiled, sniffled a little as her eyes began to water. “I didn't know where you were,” she said. “I was in a strange town, in another state, and didn't know anyone. And I didn't think you'd care, especially after the way everything had happened in school.” He turned his head and looked at her, gazed deep into her beautiful, sad eyes. “I never would have turned

you away, Lacey. And I won't now.” She pressed herself into his side. She sniffled. “Well, yeah, I get that now,” she said, smiling through the tears. He enveloped her with his arm, wrapped it around her and pulled her close against him. “We're going to get this motherfucker,” he said, his voice quiet and devoid of emotion. “We're going to get him, and we're going to make him pay.” “Really?” she asked, wiping a tear away from her eye with the heel of her hand. “Yeah,” he said, holding her in his embrace and squeezing her shoulder. “You'll be the last woman he ever hurts. I promise.”

Chapter 11 Lacey Slash held her like that for a while, and they just talked like the old friends they were. They talked about her friend Cheryl, about her dad and mom. About her life, her hopes and dreams. She melted into him, into the feel of his strong, warm arms around her. He didn't offer to fix anything, he didn't offer his advice. He was just there, present, a warm, comforting shoulder to cry on. She even forgot that she was dressed only in her towel, and practically naked as she sat next to him. After a while, though, their stomachs began to grumble. He glanced up and checked the time on his alarm clock. “Hungry?” he asked. She nodded. “I can eat.” “You should probably put some clothes on, then,” he replied with a deep laugh. “Unless you wanna give the guys a show.” She looked down at her nearly nude body, covered only in her towel wrapping, and her laughter joined his. “Yeah, I guess so.” He got up from the bed. “I'll give you some privacy,” he said. “If you follow the hall back down, you'll see the rec room, and the kitchen beyond that.” She nodded as she got up. “Got it.” She waited for him to leave before she headed to the bathroom. Along the way, she gathered up her trail of clothes. She hung up her towel, a thousand thoughts filling her mind. She still couldn't believe she'd let Wayne do this to her, make her a victim. Even as she thought about the series of events that had occurred, about the small, incremental changes that had happened in her life, a flush crept into her cheek. As she stared into the mirror, completely naked in Slash's bathroom, she realized that this was her moment. This was her chance to take control back. Slash wasn't going to do everything for her. He might try to punish Wayne, hurt him in every way he knew how but it was up to her to provide her own focus and control in her life. No one was going to do it for her. “You got this, girl,” she said to her reflection, and nodded. “You got this.” She looked around for a brush. Of course, he didn't have one. She grabbed one of his combs off the edge of the sink, instead, and ran it through her damp hair. She worked out the tangles, her mind still swirling. She'd made the wrong decision all those years ago, she realized. She'd been blinded by Wayne's family's wealth, his prospects for the future, the gifts he'd showered on her with his ample allowance. She hadn't looked at Wayne's mother, or his father, to see what kind of man he might become.

Back then, she should have been looking at Slash. Now, she could see him for the good, honest man that he was. Sure, he was rough around the edges. But he'd never hurt her. She was more than just some kind of trophy for him, a bit of arm candy to show around at parties and functions. She frowned into the mirror as realization set in. It was probably too late, despite what Slash said or implied about his feelings for her. He wouldn't have her, now, not after all these years. How could he? She had Wayne's prints all over her, little proofs of his tender “love.” And, then again, she'd chosen Wayne, and not the man Slash used to be. She hadn't believed in him back then, believed in the kind of man he would become. Besides, what kind of man would take her now? Especially after she'd become such damaged goods. She was broken, just like Humpty Dumpty. And, just like the big egg from the nursery rhyme, all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Lacey back together again. She nearly began crying again, but somehow managed to keep her tears locked up inside her. She put Slash's comb back on the lip of the sink and grabbed her clothes off the floor. As if on cue, her stomach grumbled again. She hadn't eaten anything all day, she realized, except for a light breakfast before leaving for the church that morning. She smiled to herself. She'd started out this day dreading how it would end, how this wedding would have been a change for the worse. By now, she would have been Mrs. Lacey Walker. But, instead of locking her into a fate worse than death, this was a different change. It was one of rebirth. Her whole life stretched out ahead of her, a completely different one than she would have ever imagined a year before. This new life may have been a scary one, with its fair share of trials and tribulations, but at least that big and scary life would be hers and no one else's.

Chapter 12 Slash Lacey took long enough to get dressed and find him in the kitchen that Slash almost began to think she'd pulled another vanishing act, this time on him. Honestly, he wouldn't have blamed her for doing it a second time around. He and the rest of the MC weren't exactly the most savory of characters. They may have been knights to her damsel in distress, but they sure as hell weren't wearing shining armor. He looked up from where he was prepping the cheese for their sandwiches when she walked through the swinging door into their small commercial-grade kitchen. “Took you long enough,” he said, jibing her a little. She gave him a half-smile as she looked around. “Nice setup,” she replied, ignoring his comment. “Thanks. When you gotta cook for a dozen or more people on a regular basis, it helps to have a full-scale kitchen. Should've seen this place when we first moved in.” “That bad?” “Yeah. Would've been lucky to gets eggs cooked in here. Even then, you would've wanted your shots before you ate 'em.” She laughed. “Alright, what's for dinner?” “You still like grilled cheese and tomato soup?” “Haven't had it in years,” she replied. “But, yes, I still love it.” He was shocked. “Really?” he asked. “You practically lived on it when we were in school together.” “Well, Wayne didn't like tomato soup. He'd rant every time he saw it in the pantry, and a grilled cheese just isn't the same without it.” “Easier to just stop buying it, I guess.” She nodded, her movements tight. “Pull up a stool,” he said, gesturing to one of the barstools tucked into the corner. “What kind of soup are you doing?” “One I canned last winter. Nice tomato basil bisque, with heirloom tomatoes from the farmer's market.”

“Oh,” she said, laughing as she pulled one of the barstools over. “I was expecting Campbell's or something.” He grinned. “If I got caught with Campbell's in my pantry, I'd lose my localvore chef's license.” “Oh, come on, they don't have that ... do they?” “No,” he said, smiling as he easily unscrewed the top off his quart jar and popped the sealed inner lid. “But there should be.” “Lemme get this straight,” she said as hopped up on the seat and situated herself. “You're a big bad biker dude, who shops at the local farmer's market?” “Bikers are all about freedom,” he said as he pulled a pot down from pot-hanger over the central prep table. He put it down on one of the gas burners, poured in the soup, and turned on the flame and set it to low. “And, personally, I don't trust the government, or any big corporations, to look out for the little guy. So, yeah, I go down and buy my stuff at the local market.” “Look at you being all libertarian,” she said, laughing. “Liberty ain't free, lady,” he said, grinning as he began to stir the soup. He went back over to the table and began to work on the grilled cheese sandwiches, explaining the ingredients as went along. “Bread's from a local bakery, butter's from raw milk we bought at a farm, and—” “Wait,” she interjected. “Did I just hear that right?” “Hear what right?” “You make your own butter?” she asked, clearly astonished. “Well, yeah. It tastes better that way. Besides, churning is a good work out. Can I continue now?” “Oh, by all means, Slash,” she said, sarcasm heavy in her words as she emphasized his name for effect. “Thank you,” he said, infusing his words with just as sarcastic a tone. “The cheeses are from a local importer who gets them from Vermont and Wisconsin, garlic infused cheddar and a Havarti to give it that creamy, melty texture.” “Wow,” she said, her eyes wide. “Just, wow.” “Wow's fucking right,” he said, putting the yet to be constructed sandwiches on the plate, and taking them back over to the stove. He set the plate on the counter and pulled down a skillet and slapped a slab of butter in the bottom. He started up the burner, got the flame down to a good low heat, and stirred the soup. The secret, he thought, to a proper grilled cheese, was to have both sides grilled in butter. That way, you infused the slice with delicious fat and softened the bread in the process. When the butter had started to melt, he sprinkled a dash of salt over it and placed two slices of bread in the sizzling pan.

Lacey got up from her barstool and came over to the stone. “Where'd you learn to cook?” she asked from behind him. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” he said. “Try me.” “I borrowed a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking from the library, first.” She laughed as she leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. “Go on.” “Then, I watched a whole lot of videos on the Internet. Then, I practiced.” “I bet the guys loved that. All that great food you were making for them.” “Not quite,” he said as he flipped the bread over in the pan and placed the cheese down on the freshly browned side. He closed up the sandwich to let them continue cooking. “A few of 'em got sick off my first roasted chicken. And my steaks sucked for a while. But, thankfully the vote to make me stop cooking didn't go through. Also, I got better and could make it up to them eventually.” She gave him a little half-smile that was heavy with ...something else, an emotion lying just below the surface. “It's all about making it up to people, isn't it?” He knew where she was going with this, he thought. He didn't want her to feel guilty about how things had turned, about something from so many years ago. “Well, sometimes,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “but it's also about second chances too, isn't it?” She looked away from his face, at the swinging door that led out into the rec room. “Teach them how to cook, too?” she asked. “The other guys, I mean.” “The ones that wanted to, at least,” he replied with a shrug. “Not everybody wants to cook. So, they wait the tables instead. But, before I did that, and before I opened the restaurant, I went to work as a short order cook.” Lacey laughed, a good genuine laugh. It was music to Slash's ears, especially after the way she'd looked when she was about to get in the shower. He flipped the sandwich over in the skillet and started to grill the other side. “Where at?” she asked. “Waffle House. Where else?” “Oh, I love their hash browns.” “You should try the ones we make at B & B,” he said, smiling. “They're fancy.”

“Probably won't be able to for a little while. Not exactly a great idea for someone in hiding to start appearing in public, is it?” He frowned. He hadn't thought of that. “Nah, you're probably right. Not for a while, I guess.” He turned and smiled at her. “But, luckily, you're staying with the head chef. So, he can probably whip some up for you for breakfast in the morning.” She grinned widely, just like Slash remembered her being able to all those years ago. The light that he'd seen in her the first time, it hadn't gone out. Sure, it had been covered by a bushel, just like in that old church song but it hadn’t been completely smothered by Wayne. Deep down, Slash knew there was hope. He smiled back at her as he felt something deep down inside himself begin to stir again. He stepped away from the stove and grabbed down a couple plates and bowls, then carefully removed the finished grilled cheese from the skillet and plated it. He cut the sandwich in half for her with his chef's knife. “Sit,” he said as he handed the fresh, hot sandwich to her and began to ladle some soup into a bowl, “eat. You need your strength.” “You know,” Lacey said as she took the food from him and went over to sit down in her old spot at the prep table, “in this light, you do almost look like an Italian grandmother.” “It comes from my mother's side,” he said, grabbing a spoon and placing it into the bowl. He slid the bowl of tomato bisque over to her. She dipped one of the sandwich halves into her soup and took a bike. Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. “Oh. My. God,” she said. He hadn't bothered with the freshly cut basil on top, like he would have at the restaurant. He'd wanted to leave some new mystery for later on. Clearly, though, the lack of green didn't matter to Lacey. “Good, I take it?” “This is like fucking heaven,” she said through a mouthful of grilled cheese, forgetting her manners. “I don't remember a grilled cheese being this good. Ever.” “Well, you'd never had one of mine, had you?” She grinned and took another bite as he turned back to the stove and began working on his sandwich. “You made mine first?” He looked back over his shoulder and smiled at her. “Everyone knows the chef eats last. It's tradition. Besides, I've had my own cooking before.” She smiled back at him and dipped the corner of her sandwich in her bisque again. She took another bite and groaned, a sound that was borderline erotic. “I think I could marry this sandwich,” she said, dipping it in the soup again. “Seriously. I could have kids with this thing.”

“Little toast grandkids, even?” Slash asked, laughing. Yeah, he thought. Things might work out after all. She might be okay.

Chapter 13 Lacey They stayed up for a little while longer after they finished eating, and Slash introduced her to the rest of the guys who lived at the clubhouse. He'd been right, they were rough around the edges. Coarse was a good word to describe them. But, even if they said some things that were inappropriate in polite company, or spoke in voices that were a little louder in volume than normally acceptable, she felt safe with them. They were straight forward. Honest. Around Wayne, and even his friends and family, she'd always felt as if she had to be on guard. Something always lurked behind his eyes, something fundamentally dishonest and mercurial. What she thought was the right thing to do one day, may not be the right thing tomorrow, or the next day. With the Battleborn, she knew there was just one right thing to do: respect them and the club. Seemed simple enough, Lacey figured. A little before midnight, most of the guys that had to work the next morning began to turn in for the evening. They all had to be up early, she realized. Most of the time, she'd just gone to bed when Wayne had. She hadn't wanted to wake him up in the middle of the night, especially not if he had work in the morning. Slash walked her back to his room. Rather, her room, for the time being He shut the door behind them and leaned back against it. “What'd you think of the guys?” he asked. She smiled. “They're nice,” she said with sincerity. “Tiny's sweet.” He smiled, seemingly happy that they hadn't been too much for her. “Yeah, they're all good guys.” “You turning in for the night, too?” “Probably should,” he admitted. There was a pause, and Lacey's nervous heart began to beat a little faster. “Yeah, I need to,” he said, shaking his head. “Tiny's gonna open for me tomorrow morning, but I'll still have to be up early. Got a breakfast date with our lawyer.” That hadn't been exactly what Lacey had wanted to hear. No, she'd wanted him to come over and take her into those caring work-strong arms of his. She wanted to feel his full lips crushing hers. Clearly, though, that wasn't going to happen. She quirked up the corners of her mouth. “If you need anything,” he said as he touched the door handle beside him, “I'll be out on one of the couches. Alright?” She did need something: to feel a kind touch, a reassuring warmth, a loving hand for once in her life. She

simply nodded at him. “Yeah. I'll let you know.” “Cool,” he said before turning to let himself out. He stopped before he left. “Night, Lacey.” “Night, Slash,” she said, his name making her smile a little as it left her lips. He smiled back and shook his head, before closing the door and heading off down the hallway, back to the rec room. Lacey sighed again. She should have said something. Done something. What was that quote? “If you don't make a choice, life will choose for you?” Something like that, she thought. But, whatever the quote had been, her choice in that moment had been made for her, whether she liked the decision, or not. # # # Slash Slash bedded down in the rec room, just like he'd decided a while ago. Heading off to bed early didn't help him with getting any sleep, though. Lacey's face, smile, laughter, and the sound of her voice filled his mind as he tossed and turned on the overstuffed piece of furniture. When he closed his eyes, all he saw was her naked, beautiful body. It didn't matter that she'd been hurt. She was still Lacey Cox. He lay there, his head propped up on the scratchy pillow, eyes wide open and staring off into the darkness. Silence covered the clubhouse like a heavy down comforter, wrapped him in its embrace. The only thing it couldn't silence, though, were his thoughts. Once, he imagined he'd gotten over her. Had finally forgotten how her touch felt. Had finally put her infectious grin behind him. Apparently, he hadn't. He sighed and rolled back over to face the back of the couch, pulled the covers tighter around his shoulders. The urge to just walk back into his room, to crawl into bed with her and pull her into his arms, was almost too much to control. Somehow, he managed to control himself, but in the end, it was only for her sake. He'd loved Lacey once. Loved her like the air he breathed, or the roads his bike took him down. He'd spent years pulling that love out of his heart, ripping it out by the roots and throwing it as far away as he could. She'd been with Wayne, and forever out of his reach. ...Now she was within his reach but if he tried something and got shot down like he had before, he wouldn't know how to handle it. Could he take that kind of rejection again? Or, would it wreck him just like it had all those years ago? He sighed and rolled back over, put his hands behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling. No, he couldn't risk the hurt. No matter how much he needed to. A heart was a fragile thing, like a soufflé or a bike's gearbox. You toyed with one at your peril. Slash, though, was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the soft footsteps as they padded down the hall and into the rec room. Even in the thundering silence, he was too focused on himself, only his own memories and mental arguments. He was so absorbed in his own echo chamber that he barely reacted when the soft, slender hand slipped over his mouth, and the perfectly shaped lips next to his ear whispered a quiet shush. “Come with me,” Lacey said, her soft, sweet breath tickling the inside of his ear. “I want to show you something.”

Chapter 14 Lacey Lacey could feel the stubble on his chin beneath her fingers, and his skin was soft but weathered. He was so different form Wayne, different in every way she could imagine. Wayne used lotions on his face, moisturizers with SPF. She knew Slash didn't. She'd been in his bathroom, after all. He was only wearing his boxer briefs as he slept on the couch, with a light quilt thrown over him. Wayne, though, refused to sleep in anything but silk pajamas. She could tell from this close, too, how different they smelled. Wayne had smelled like expensive cologne and other pampered fragrances. Slash smelled like motor oil, exhaust, and a little spiciness she couldn't quite place. Lacey glanced down his body, allowing her eyes to travel over his broad chest and the tattoos and scars covering his flesh. She wanted to reach out to him, to feel his imperfections and old injuries. She wanted to kiss his tattoos, to let her lips travel down his naked body.... She couldn't believe she was doing this, throwing herself at this man whom she hadn't seen in so many years. And yet, here she stood, clad in only the panties she was supposed to get married in, and an oversized bike rally tee shirt she'd fished out of his dresser drawer. But, there was something liberating about these feelings. She wanted this. She wanted to explore her urges, instead of just subjecting herself to someone else's wants and desires. Slash turned to face her and she could feel him smile a little. His eyes, though, were saying something else entirely. In his eyes, she could see the smoldering desire. That same want, that same need they shared. He reached up and took her hand away from her mouth and went to sit up from where he lay on the couch. All she could feel was the blood pumping through her body, and the desperately intense lust she felt for this man. She stood up, her hand still in his. She gently pulled him up from the couch and turned to lead him back down the hallway, back to his bunk. Together, half-naked, they walked through the pitch-black halls of the Battleborn MC's clubhouse. They crept past the sleeping men's bunks, barely making a sound, sneaking through the corridors until they reached Slash's room. She glanced back at him as they reached his door, and her breath nearly caught in her throat. He looked even more sultry in the hallway than he had on the couch. Even more than when he'd been on his bike on the side of the road, riding to her rescue. Slash reached out to her, and she felt herself tense in expectation of his touch. He reached past her, though, and grabbed the door handle. His body brushed against hers as he turned the handle and pushed the door open. Heat came off of him in waves, so much so that she felt as if she was standing next to a furnace. She tilted her parted lips up to his, her breath heavy, her heart racing. Her hands came up, seemingly of their own volition, and wrapped around him. His skin was hot to the touch, his muscles like iron or stone. He put an arm around her waist, gently pulled her into him. He brought his soft, full lips down closer to hers. Still, though, he didn't kiss her. The wait was too much for her. She stood on her tiptoes, pressing herself more fully into his body. He pulled her tighter, closer. He leaned down, pressed his lips to hers. His kiss was intense, deep, like that of

a long-lost lover. Just like the one and only kiss they'd shared all those years before. A little thrilling shiver went through her body as she tasted him for the first time in so long. He felt just like she remembered, but less timid and more confident than when they'd been kids. He opened his mouth and brushed his tongue over her lips. She parted them for his tongue, darted her own out. They kissed like that in the hallway for what seemed like an eternity, their tongues dancing and lashing and exploring. Slash's strong insistent hands began to explore. He lifted the hem of her pilfered shirt and slipped a palm down over her panty-covered bottom. He grabbed a tight hold of her, filling his hands. She groaned a little at his touch, arching herself into him as he kneaded her supple forgiving flesh. His calluses brushed over her skin, tantalizing her as she ground herself into him. Panting, he broke off the kiss for a moment, pulled back. “Bedroom,” he whispered so quietly she could barely hear him over the sound of her own heavy breathing. She nodded and backed through the doorway, dragging him along with her. She tried to not move too far away, lest he lose touch with her body. She hadn't felt this way in years, not since back in college. She'd always been with Wayne, never with another man, and she wanted to explore every part of the experience possible. He shut the door behind them and allowed himself to be dragged to the edge of the bed. He pulled her into his arms, gently embracing her. They continued to kiss, enjoying this newly found experience. His hands roamed higher, up her back, between her shoulder blades. His blunt nails dragged along her skin, leaving a fiery trail behind them as they trekked down her body. She bit his lip and sucked on it till he pulled away. He reached out to her, but dropped his hands when he realized what she was doing. She took a deep breath, steeled herself. “I've never been with another man besides Wayne,” she whispered. He nodded, seemingly understanding despite his face being almost entirely hidden in shadows. Slash had probably been with loads of women, she thought. Girls would throw themselves at a man like him, with his rippling abs and bulging biceps. And, shit, he could cook, too. “It's okay,” he said. “I'll be gentle.” She reached down, grabbed the bottom hem of her shirt, and pulled it up and over her head. She stood there in front of him, her body on display for another man for the first time. She took a deep breath, her breasts rising and falling. “It's okay,” she whispered back. “You don't need to treat me with kid gloves.” He grinned a wolfish grin, then. He reached out, pulled her into his arms, suddenly brusque. She nearly squealed as she felt his lips on her neck and his steely grip on her body. His hands massaged her flesh, grabbed her ass again. She pushed back into his hands as she flattened her breasts into his wide muscular chest. His lips found hers again as he turned her back to the bed and moved her towards it. He pushed her back onto the foot of his bed as his tongue plunged into her mouth. She closed her lips around his tongue, sucking it for a moment before pulling back and grazing her teeth over his lower lip, nipping it lightly.

Still standing over her, he cupped a breast with his hand and rubbed his rough palm over her nipple. Pleasure radiated through her body and she arched into him. She groaned as she leaned forward and began to kiss him again. He was hard now, and his length pressed into belly. He touched her shoulder and began to push her back onto the bed. She resisted him, shaking her head. “Not yet,” she chided as she reached for the waist band of his boxer briefs. “I want to see what I missed all those years ago.” He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers, dragging it down her soft skin. She leaned into his hand, kissed his fingers. Then, she tugged down on his boxers to reveal what they hid. He was beautiful. Not too big, not too small. Goldilocks would have been ecstatic. His underwear pooled at his feet, and he stepped out and kicked them away. She wanted to touch him, this first new one in her life. She looked up into his eyes. “Can I?” “Thought that's what we were here for,” he said. Over the last few years, sex with Wayne hadn't been like this. It hadn't been ...fun. He'd just come into the room, or start pawing at her if they were already in bed, and pull her pajama bottoms off. Then, with no foreplay, no preliminaries, he'd force himself into her. She reached up, wrapped her fingers softly around him. She rubbed her thumb over his tip, gathering up his pre-cum, and rubbed it softly over the head. She looked up at him as she began to work her hand up and down his shaft. “Tell me if I do anything wrong, okay?” “You're just fine,” he breathed, groaning lightly as her other hand dipped down to his heavy balls. She could feel how excited she was getting by the dampness in the front of her panties. She wanted to feel him inside her, to feel his hands on her again. But, first, she wanted to thank him properly for what he'd done today, for the risk he was taking for her. She touched him, squeezed him slightly, as she worked her hand up and down his shaft. He touched her face again, pressed his thumb to her lips. She turned her head to the side, opened her mouth, and closed her eyes. She took his digit in and began to suck gently on it as she continued to stroke him. She swirled her tongue around his finger, imagining what he would taste like. He pulled his thumb from her mouth and moved his hand into her hair. She looked up at him as she moved her head forward. The head of his cock loomed in her vision as she brought her lips closer. She gently pulled him closer and began to tongue him, swirling around his head, licking up his salty-sweet pre-cum. His head rolled back as he moaned. He didn't grip her hair tightly, not like the other man in her life had. Instead, it was there as if a reassurance. She pressed her lips to the underside of his engorged head, running them down his shaft as her hand continued to work on him. She pulled back and looked up into his eyes. The same heat she felt was reflected in his gaze. He touched her face again, the tips of his fingers nearly burning her. With her eyes still locked on his, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth. She tasted him, really tasted him for the first time. She continued to look up at him, gauging his pleasure. Returning her gaze, he moved his hips forward a little, thrusting into her mouth. She felt him begin to move and opened her mouth a little wider,

pressed her tongue down. She could feel him already beginning to go. She gently squeezed his balls with one hand and continued to stroke him with the other. “I'm close,” he breathed. “So close. You might wanna ...” She shook her head, his length still in her mouth. She locked her lips tighter around him and began to suck, began to swirl her tongue around his length. His hand tightened in her hair a little, but not painfully, as he threw back his head and moaned more loudly. He still didn't move her head along, or hold her in place. She bobbed her head forward, matching the pace of his hips. She groaned as she felt his cock pass her lips, his soft skin passing over hers. Funny thing was, she'd never really enjoyed this too much with Wayne. With Slash, though, it was different. “I'm – Oh shit,” he said, his hand tightening in her hair. She felt him hit the back of her throat. She almost gagged, but kept her mouth closed around him, swallowed whatever he could give her. She took every drop, moaning as his salty sweet nectar filled her mouth. She kept him in her mouth, continued to tongue him as he softened slightly. She dropped her hands from him finally, reaching around to grab his firm, tight ass. He pulled his hips back, sliding himself out of her mouth. “Damn, that was amazing,” he said, touching her cheek again as he leaned down to kiss her. She kissed him softly on the lips, smiling against him. “That was better than I thought it would be,” she whispered between kisses. “Yeah?” he asked. “How good do you think this will be, then?” he asked as he pushed her back onto the bed. She didn't resist his pressure this time, and just let herself go with the flow. She laid back on his rumpled covers, thinking about how she'd been here just a few hours earlier crying her eyes out to this man. He grabbed her legs and pushed her back onto the bed, putting as much effort into moving her as he would moving a feather. With her legs half hanging off the bed like that, he dropped to his knees and reached for the waistband of her sheer panties. She arched her hips up off the bed, and he dragged them down her long, slim legs. He gently, but firmly, grabbed hold of an ankle and a calf. Slash spread her, putting her on display for him. She shivered as he dipped his head down, trembled as she felt his hot breath on the inside of her thighs. His lips were even softer than she'd imagined, as he wetly kissed the inside of a thigh. And his tongue even more skillful than she could have dreamed all those years ago, as he parted her lips with just the tip. Between her thighs, he moaned as he tasted. She threw her head back and grabbed hold of the sheets as he slowly and sensually bathed his tongue in her. She pushed her hips into his mouth as his tongue and lips found her clit and slowly began to circle it. She moaned loudly, and stuck a hand in her mouth. She bit down on her knuckles as he focused on a spot just above her clit and kept the wild sensations going. Truthfully, she couldn't remember the last time she'd cum. Sex with Wayne wasn't like this. He didn't care

about her pleasure, about whether she got off or not. It was always him taking what he wanted. She'd always closed her eyes and tried to think of other things till he pulled out and jerked himself off onto her stomach. She could tell Slash was loving this as much as she was. He groaned, clearly enjoying himself, as he slid a finger inside her and found a sensitive area that made her tremble. She nearly screamed, and had to bite down harder to keep quiet. She'd never known she even had a spot like that! She'd heard of it, before, but she'd never been able to order toys to help herself find it. Now, pleasure engulfed her body, the intensity of it almost too much for her. She felt herself building and building, like a river being held back by a dam. Slash smiled between her legs and slid another finger into her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and gasped out as the dam broke, releasing all her pent-up passion and wanton pleasure from the years and years she'd been virtually trapped. Her back arched as her body flooded with the ecstasy of her orgasm, her voice louder than she'd ever moaned as she continued to bite down on her knuckle. He continued to tongue her, to bring her to another cresting high, but it was almost too much for her. She released the sheets and pulled her hand from her mouth. She reached down between her legs and grabbed his head, saying, “No, that's too much. Come here.” He rose up from between her legs, his body towering over hers in the dim light. She reached for him, grabbing his hand. With her other, she reached down between his legs and found his newly resurrected cock. “Please, Slash, please just put yourself in me.” “Gladly,” he breathed as he climbed onto the bed, joining her. He pushed her thighs apart with his trunklike legs, spreading her wide for his manhood. She wanted to look into his eyes as he fucked her. Maybe, if this happened again some other night, he would take her from behind, but not now, not tonight. She reached up, touched his face, ran her thumb over the stubble on his chin. He put the head of his cock at her slick opening. With one hand, he guided the tip up and down her lips, parting her, teasing her. The need was building in her again, the desperate need to be filled. She reached out for him again, grabbing his strong, defined forearms and squeezed, silently urging him to slide into her. He pushed forward with his hips. She threw her head back, moaning as he dove into her love channel. She wanted to feel him all the way inside her, wanted to feel him slapping against her ass as he fucked her. She pushed her hips into him as he slid deeper into her, her hands still rubbing his arms, stroking his chest. He lowered himself over her, kissed her again. She opened her mouth to his tongue, sucked on it like it was the last thing she'd ever do on this earth, and pulled him close against her body. At first slowly, he began to thrust into her, feeling her out. “God,” he breathed, “you're so tight.” Wayne hadn't exactly been well-endowed, she realized as Slash began to fill her. She pushed her hips up and into him, meeting each movement of his with an equal and counter of hers as she gyrated on his hardness. She hooked a leg around his back, let it come to rest at the top of his firm ass. She pulled him into her with it, urging him to go faster and deeper. His lips moved down to her neck as his hands founds her. Their fingers entwined, gripped each other

tightly, following suit with the rest of their sweaty bodies. They moved against each other in the night, moaning. He reached down with one hand, grabbed her thigh hard and used it as leverage. She didn't feel any pain. Instinctively, she knew it was from his own need that he gripped her like that. There was no malice there as he continued to fill her. Each time he stroked into her, it felt like the world was the most beautiful place ever. Every time he withdrew, she felt empty, wanting. She'd never felt like this before with a man. She pushed wantonly into him, panting into his ear, kissing his neck as her free hand scratched up and down his back with her wedding-day nails. “Fuck me, Slash,” she panted and groaned in his ear. “Fuck me like you meant it.” He increased his speed, thrusting into her with abandon. His body slapped against hers, slamming the headboard against the wall behind them. As much as they'd been trying to control their own noises, they were about to wake the whole clubhouse. “Oh, god,” she groaned, a little more loudly than before, “I'm almost there! Please, keep going!” “I'm close,” he growled in her ear, his hips speeding up as he thrust in and out of her. “I'm on the pill,” she quickly gasped back. She never wanted to give Wayne a child. That was one of the few things she'd managed to slip in under his controlling radar. “Inside of me, please!” Slash's whole body tensed and shook as he slid all the way into her, filling her completely. She felt him inside of her, his cock almost pulsating and growing as he emptied his seed into her. She cried out till he pressed his lips to hers, silencing her moans with his mouth. She groaned into him, getting her own release as her clit rubbed against the top of his hard cock. Lights exploded behind her eyes as she pushed her tongue into his mouth, as her body milked him for every drop it could. Their lips stayed pressed together, their tongues entwined as they rode out the rest of their sexual, physical high. Their bodies were slick with sweat, but their desires were sated. She wrapped her arms around him, kissed those sweet, soft lips of his one more time before he rolled off of her and collapsed into a panting heap on the mattress. “My fucking God,” he groaned, disbelief in his voice. “Shit,” she panted, her arms outspread on the mattress, “you can say that again. That was fucking amazing.”

Chapter 15 Slash The moment he finished inside her, he knew that he'd made the wrong decision when he let his physical needs take control of the rest of him. Now, laying here in his bed with the woman he'd once loved, he realized how horrible of an idea this had been. He shook his head, trying to clear it. This was what he'd wanted, wasn't it? To have her in his arms, to feel her clinging close to his body? But, this wasn't how he'd wanted it, another voice said from deep inside him, a voice he knew came from his heart, from his sense of honor and conscience. He hadn't wanted to have to rescue her like this, from an abusive relationship. He'd wanted her on his own terms, all those years ago. It wasn't that she was damaged, or anything like that. That hadn't even registered in his mind. Instead, it was that tonight was supposed to be her wedding night. She was originally going to have been with her husband, not with some lowlife biker in a clubhouse on the outskirts of town. Sure, Slash had picked her up on the side of the road, and he was hiding her. But that just meant he shouldn't have been doing this. He shouldn't have been taking advantage of her. “What's wrong?” Lacey asked from beside him. “You okay?” He shook his head and sat up in the bed. “I'm sorry,” he blurted out, not thinking. He looked off, away from her, into a corner of his room. He couldn't face her right now. “I'm so sorry.” “Sorry for what?” she asked, sitting up in bed and putting her arm around. “I'm sorry,” he said again, breathing deep and trying to control his anger at himself. “For what?” she asked carefully. Her touch felt amazing. It felt perfect. That wasn't what he needed right now. This wasn't what he needed. He'd been free of these thoughts for years, he'd traveled down this road and come back form it once before. “We shouldn't have slept together,” he whispered, barely loud enough for even him to hear. “What?” she asked, still whispering but louder. “We shouldn't have slept together,” he repeated, this time loud enough for her to hear it clearly, but still not loud enough to be heard through the walls. “I'm sorry, I should never have taken advantage of you like that.” “Take advantage of me?” she asked, pulling him closer, her hand over his bicep. She shook her head.

“You didn't take advantage of me, Dustin.” “You were supposed to be getting married today,” he said, his voice firm, pained. He was angry with himself, though, not with her. He went to get up from the sweat soaked sheets. “I never should have done this. I should have stayed on the couch. And my name's Slash.” She tried to hold him back on the bed, but he just shook her off. “What? What are you doing?” she asked as he searched on the floor for his underwear. This was a weird turn of events, and would almost be funny if it weren't for the circumstances. Here he was, trying to find his underwear on the floor of his own bunk, so he could go sleep on the couch. All because of a woman he hadn't seen in nearly a decade, coming back into his life unexpectedly. “Are you leaving me?” she asked, sadness entering her voice. This was just getting worse and worse. Not only was he taking advantage of her, but he was hurting her all over again, and now in new and different ways than before. Now, he was abandoning her. He found his boxers after a few seconds of searching and slipped them back on. “I can't sleep in here,” he said. “I'm sorry.” “You are leaving me, then,” she said flatly. The sound of oncoming tears was building up in her voice. He wanted to stay. He wanted to stay more than anything he'd ever wanted. But he was afraid. Afraid of what she might think, and afraid of what emotions this all might awaken in him. He shook his head again. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I just ... I shouldn't have done this. This isn't about you. It's about me.” She looked away, brushed off a tear from her eye. “Fine,” she said. “Whatever. Just, come back to bed. Okay? I wouldn't be able to sleep all night with you out there on the couch by yourself. Or, at least let me take the couch.” Sighing, he stopped and looked at her. “We don't have to cuddle, or hold each other, or anything,” she said, her voice still full of sadness and resignation. “I just don't want to feel like I kicked you out of your own bed. Especially not after what you did for me today.” He gritted his teeth and looked away from her, to the Battleborn flag hanging on his wall. “Fine,” he said. “I'll stay. Okay?” She scooted over, making plenty of room for him. Deep down, a part of him knew that he'd regret this. Or, at the very least, he knew that it would change things for them. Honestly, though, he didn't know if that was for the better, or not. Change was a powerful force, and it could be one for good, or for ill. He walked back over to the bed and sat down in the spot he'd just left. He kept his briefs on and swung his legs up onto the mattress.

Still naked beside him, Lacey slid beneath the covers, pulled them up tight to her neck. Finally, after what seemed like hours of staring at his ceiling and mulling over his track record of very poor decisions when it came to Lacey Cox, he drifted off to sleep. A few hours later, though, he awoke to the sounds of soft crying. She was on her side, crying into her pillow, her back turned to him. He didn't know what to do. He felt like whatever he did, he'd somehow make it worse. He cursed himself silently as she continued to cry. Whether he still loved her, or not. Whether she was supposed to have married that piece of shit Wayne today, or not. Whether they'd just had sex, or not, ...she was still his friend. And, at least with their history, and the friendship she showed to him while they were back in high school, he owed her some semblance of comfort and compassion. He reached out, touched her shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered, pulling her towards, “come here.” His gesture did nothing to stop her tears, but she rolled over anyways and pulled herself against him. Her naked body pressed into his form, seeming like she was made to perfectly fit against him. Slash wrapped his arm around her, pulled her tighter against him, and let her cry on his chest. Her tears fell, dappling his black-inked tattoos, and he just grasped her closer. Soon, the tears stopped, and her breathing went from shallow and fast to deep and measured. She was asleep. This was what he'd tried to avoid by sleeping on the couch. Slash began to feel a change in himself. He frowned inwardly, cursing and shaming himself for having walked right into what he saw coming from a mile away.

Chapter 16 Lacey Lacey finally drifted off to sleep after Slash had cradled her in his arms. She awoke a few hours later, though, to an empty bed, and dim sunlight coming in through the bathroom windows. Not sure of what to do this early in the morning with an empty clubhouse, and Slash not around to guide her, she wrapped the covers tighter around her and tried to drift back off to sleep. When sleep did not come, she was left alone with her thoughts. She wasn't sure what to feel about Slash. All those years ago, he'd been Dusty. A squirmy, insecure kid. Sure, they'd had a kiss, and it had been good. He’d been the squirrelly best friend, the sidekick. Now, though, she didn't know what to think. She'd never had sex like that before, not even during the best days with Wayne before everything went south. She felt herself getting excited just remembering what it felt like to be held by him, how protected and safe she felt with him, but still like she was living a little on the edge while doing it. It was such a strangely wonderful feeling that almost took her right back to the moment when he'd finished inside her. Last night had been intense, that was for sure. But, she didn't know if it was something more, or not. Guys like Slash were different from guys like Dustin. With Dustin, she would have known that she'd be his one and only. She would have been special. With Slash, though, she was probably a dime a dozen. Nothing unique or remarkable about her. Just another piece of ass, a notch on his bed post. She considered actually getting up to check his post, but realized that was probably ridiculous. That was just a figure of speech, wasn't it? Besides, she’d seen no evidence of other women, and he’d treated her with a detached respect and distance she hadn’t expected from someone with his reputation. She shook her head, trying to reconcile the two personas. It was like having known Clark Kent back in Smallville, but having Superman screw the hell out of you when you got to Metropolis. But she still couldn't figure out what had happened afterward, with him trying to get up and leave. He hadn't wanted to take advantage of her. She understood that. Respected it, even. Not every guy out there was as honest, or had as much integrity he did. Which, for a biker, was saying something. They weren't exactly known for the great way they treated their women. It had to have been something else, though. Something deeper. She hadn't seen the guy in almost a decade. He was practically a new man, completely different from the guy she'd known growing up. So what, then? Was it because last night had been special to him, and he'd just reacted poorly? Whatever it was, she didn't know. She probably wouldn't until he broke down and finally told her himself. Well, whatever last night had been, it had been a definite departure from her previous life. And, that being said, she'd definitely put a nail in the coffin on her relationship with Wayne Walker. Even if he could convince her to come back, somehow, she knew he'd never take her back. Wayne wouldn't be able to stand the thought that his friend's cock had been inside her. He'd never want to sleep with her again. With that thought in her head, Lacey drifted back to sleep. # # #

She awoke again some time later. This time because Slash's naked body was sliding beneath the shits and pressing against her body from behind. He leaned down, kissed her shoulder. Something about the way she fit into his body, little spoon to his big one. Like they'd been made for each other years before, but were just now realizing. She moaned sleepily and pushed back into him. “How'd your meeting go?” she asked, her eyes still closed. “Not well,” he said. “Well, I don't think it did. Lawyer's reassuring me everything's going to be fine, but I think he's gotta do that with how much we pay his ass.” “Oh yeah?” she asked. “Yeah,” he said, sighing heavily into her neck as he kissed her again. “He doesn't know if he can get Jerry out on bail for sure, but he's pretty sure he can by saying he's not a flight risk. Same thing with Big Jim. But, this judge that they're going in front of, I think Wayne's got him in his pocket somehow. It looked good for them yesterday, he said. But, now, our guy's saying it looks dicey. So, I don't know who to believe.” “Which one is it?” “Judge Darvers, I think.” “County judge, right?” she asked, sleepily. “Yeah,” he said. “He's up for reelection this year.” “You gotta be shitting me,” Slash groaned into her shoulder. “Sorry,” she said. “I know it hurts you to have your friends in there like this. It has to be hard.” “Harder for them than it is for me, that's for sure,” he said. After that, he lay silently against her for a while. He may have been lost in his own thoughts and concerns, or perhaps he'd drifted off to sleep. As he remained quiet, though, the wheels in Lacey's brain began to turn. “Slash?” she asked after a while. “Yeah?” he said back after she said his name again. She sat up in the bed, the sheet falling off her. She reached down and picked it up, pressing the cloth to her nakedness. “Hey, do you ...” she said, trailing off, searching for the right words. “Do I what?” he asked. “Do you think Wayne knows I'm here?”

“How could he?” he asked. “He doesn't even know we met again.” “Then ... will I make things worse for you and your friends if I stay?” “What?” he asked and chuckled. “Believe me, you ain't gonna make anything worse. We already got Wayne after us as it is. Far as I'm concerned, things can't get much worse than having a vindictive assistant DA on your ass.” He stroked her arm idly as he smiled up at her. “Now, come here.” She snuggled up next to him, using his shoulder as a headrest. He trailed his fingers up and down her back and she put her hand on his stomach. “I'm gonna make sure he never hurts you again,” Slash said after a while. “I promise.” She smiled and nodded into his shoulder. With Slash beside her, at least, she felt safe and secure. He kissed the top of her head. Her hand wandered back to his abs, went lower. “What are you…?” he asked as she encircled him with her lithe fingers. “What do you think?” Lacey asked, kissing him softly. She let her hands, and her body, do the rest of the explaining for her.

Chapter 17 Slash They spent the rest of the morning in bed together, their bodies pressed against one another. It had been ages since Slash had even let a woman stay in his bed this long, years it felt like since he hadn't just immediately kicked them out on their asses. But, Lacey was different. Clearly. As he twisted her long locks around his finger, touched her soft skin, and reveled in the feeling of her warm body pressed against his, he secretly worried. Worried about what she meant to him, worried about the future, and worried about the Battleborn. She couldn't take focus away from his MC. He owed that much to his men, the boys who trusted him with practically their lives. All those years had gone by since he'd seen her last. But for him, the attraction was still there, just as much as it had been once upon a time. Still, though, he knew he needed to stay focused. The situation was coming to a head and any slip up on his part could have far reaching ramifications far beyond what just tomorrow, or the next day, would bring to his door. Now was the time to be cautious, disciplined, and aware. “Slash?” Lacey asked from in front of him. He grunted in acknowledgment. “What do you really want out of life?” He'd thought about this a lot, actually. Ever since he'd joined the Battleborn. “Security, and freedom.” “Just that?” she asked as she re-situated herself to face him. She reached up, stroked his stubbly cheek, his jaw, as she looked deep into his eyes. “No kids, or a family, or anything?” Her eyes were two of the most beautiful gems he'd ever seen in his life. He grumbled again. “I wouldn't mind kids, I guess. I dunno, I've never really thought about it. Never really considered it. Hard to put a baby carrier on a bike, though, you know?” She laughed and playfully slapped his shoulder. “I'm serious, though.” “Well, what about you?” he asked, deflecting it back to her. He was enjoying himself with her, but this prying into his life, and so quickly, was a little much for a man like him to take in. “You ever wanted kids, or anything?” She rolled over on her back and looked up at the ceiling. “I did. Once.” She shook her head. “Not with Wayne, though.” He stayed on his side, just as before, and watched her face as she became lost in her thoughts and walk down memory lane. “But, yeah, years ago I dreamed about it. Now, though, sometimes I just think that I might feel trapped by it

all. I mean, I'd have a little life inside me for nine months, then, poof, I'd have a child. And, for the rest of its life, I'd be its mother. That's a big responsibility. I don't know if I'd want it, to be a prisoner of my actions like that.” “What about the other times?” Slash asked, feeling uncharacteristically introspective for once. “The other times I think to myself, 'Well, what else are you going to do, Lacey? You got any better ideas, girl?'” Slash grinned and flipped over on his back. “Well?” he asked. “Do you?” She was quiet for a moment, then grinned. “I really don't know. Start up a small gift shop? Maybe a book store?” “Ah, come on,” Slash said, “don't you read the news? Print's dead.” “Well, how'd you end up opening a restaurant?” He wanted to tell her. He really did. But how do you tell the girl of your dreams, one whom you've been trying to forget for nearly the last decade, and, coincidentally, was set to marry the assistant DA just the day before, that you only opened the restaurant as a way to launder money? And that the only way it finally began to go legit was because of stupid luck? How do you say all that to a woman, particularly when you're trying to hide your drug dealing, your gun running, and all manners of other regrets? He just shrugged. “Meh. It was kind of on a lark.” Lacey laughed at his poor, off the cuff response. Before she could dig further, though, he added. “Hey, do you want lunch? It's past noon already.” The faster he got away from this question, and all the consequences of his truthful answer, the better. “I could eat,” she replied. “Good,” he said, getting out of bed and pulling his pants on from where he'd just dropped everything on the floor before crawling back beneath the sheets with her. She slid out of bed behind him and started to grab her clothes from where she'd carefully draped them over the back of a small chair he kept in the corner. Together, they padded out of his bunk on bare feet, headed through the hallway, out through the rec-room, and into the kitchen. All around them, the clubhouse was silent as a tomb. All the guys were still off working their shift at B & B, making sure the doors stayed open through this troubled time. A little bit of guilt tickled at Slash for abandoning them like this, especially when they were two men down, but Tiny had been insistent. He knew they needed Lacey protected, knew that she was the key to all this. “What's for lunch today, Chef?” Lacey asked as she took her spot from the previous day at the barstool. “I was thinking a Hot Dutch,” Slash said as he went over to the big industrial fridge and opened it up. He

squatted down and began digging through all the piles and piles of groceries, fresh produce, cold cuts, and various cheeses they kept the place stocked with. “Hot Dutch?” she asked from behind him. He could practically hear the face she made. “What's that? Sounds like a bad sex position.” He laughed. “It's like a grilled cheese, but it's got ham on it.” “Why not just call it a ham and cheese melt, then?” “Because, it's got Gouda on it,” he said, pulling all the necessary ingredients out and putting them on the counter. “It's different, okay? My mom used to make them for me all the time.” “Is it even a thing?” “It was in the Reynolds household,” he said. They talked while he cooked and prepped, bantering back and forth just like they used to, when they were back in high school. Questions about his family, telling stories back and forth about what they'd done after high school. He was impressed she'd gotten a psychology degree, even if she wasn't overly enthused about her academic accomplishment. It was better than he'd ever done in school, that was for damn sure, and he told her as much. “But what do I do with such a useless degree?” she asked, laughing. “Well, why'd you even get it if it's useless?” “Killing time,” she said, honestly. He was watching the sandwich grill up and grunted without turning around to give her the go ahead to continue. “I hate to say it, now,” she went on, “but, I think I was just getting a degree to get a degree. Like, my mom and dad expected it out of me. And, I figured, what would it matter what I got? I was going to be eventually married to Wayne Walker anyways, right? I'd be taken care of, having babies like I was supposed to, doing everything life had planned for me ...” Slash plated her sandwich and filled her empty bowl with soup. “But, that was before law school,” Slash finished for her. She nodded, her hands folded tightly together. “Yeah.” “Well,” he said, gesturing to the food. “Eat up.” She dug in with gusto, just like the night before. To Slash's pleasant surprise, she seemed to like the Hot Dutch even more than the grilled cheese. “So, this is like a grilled cheese with ham added to it, right?” she asked after he'd turned back to finish preparing his own sandwich.

“Right.” “Why don't you just call it that, instead? You know, a grilled cheese with ham on it.” “Because a grilled cheese has two primary ingredients,” he said as he looked back at her. “Bread. Cheese. You add in anything else and it becomes something besides a grilled cheese. Calling it a grilled cheese with ham is a perversion. It's a Hot Dutch for a reason.” Lacey laughed and dipped the sandwich into her soup, rolling her eyes at his adamant insistence. “Whatever, Slash.” As Slash was plating his own sandwich and setting down to eat, he could tell that something was bugging Lacey. For once, he decided not to pry. She'd tell him when she wanted to. After a few minutes of silence, it finally came out. “I've been thinking,” she slowly said, picking her words carefully as she moved through the sentence. “Unless you plan on letting me wander around here naked while I'm doing laundry ...” A crystal clear mental image of the slight woman wandering the halls of the clubhouse popped into his mind. He immediately shook it free and realized what she was getting at. “Go on,” Slash said around a mouthful of Dutch. “What's your point?” “Well, I only had the one set of clothing when I took off.” “And you need more, then?” She nodded. “Okay,” he said, and tapped his chin. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and tossed it aside. “But, Lacey, you know you can't leave. At least, we can't just take you shopping. What if Wayne finds you?” “Well, I was thinking about that,” she said, grabbing her bowl with both hands and beginning to bring it to her lips, “and I think I have a solution. Cheryl!” “Cheryl?” he asked, confused. “Who's that?” “My maid of honor. She's my only real friend here, besides you. And, I think I can get her to bring me some outfits from my apartments.” “But, won't Wayne try and stop her?” She set her bowl of tomato bisque back down, untouched. “I don't know. I mean, maybe? But, he can't just hurt her and make her disappear, can he? He'd just make proof against himself!” Slash shook his head. “I don't know about this, Lacey. I mean, this is a pretty big risk, for you and your friend.”

She sighed and looked away. “Look, Slash,” she said, her voice wavering a little. “I need clothes. I can't wear the same panties for days on end, or the same clothes over and over. You have to help me with this.” The plan was perilous for everyone involved. But she was right. A person needed clothing. While it was her fault for not planning better, he couldn't exactly blame her for poorly executing a spur of the moment plan. He sighed and popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth. As he chewed his sandwich, and thought over her words, she added one more shot: “Are you my protector here, or my captor?” That one actually stunned and shocked him a little. He hadn't felt that way, but he admitted that he had to control her movements a little bit, if only to protect her from the dangers in the outside world. He dusted his hands free of crumbs. “Fine,” he said. “Call her. But she's going to have to meet us in a place we can be sure she's not being followed to, especially if she's getting clothes from your place.” She nodded and gave him a little smile. “Thank you.”

Chapter 18 Lacey “No, Cheryl, no. I'm okay, I promise you I'm fine,” Lacey said into the phone, trying to placate her best friend. It wasn't going so well, though. “Well, why in the fuck haven't you called me till now, then!?” Cheryl screamed into the phone. “I've been fucking worried sick about you!” “I'm sorry,” Lacey said for probably the tenth or twentieth time to no avail. She was sitting in Slash's room, alone, praying the walls were thicker than they seemed. And praying, too, that Cheryl would help her out with all this. “I'm so sorry, girl! I just didn't know if it would be safe to call you!” “Safe! You didn't know if it would be fucking safe!” she screamed back, more statement than question. In fear for her ear drum's safety, Lacey yanked the phone away from her. “Yes, okay? Look, alright, I need you to trust me on this, okay? If you can't, I'll find someone else who can.” That last part sounded snotty as it passed her lips but she knew it would get Cheryl’s attention. “Who?” Cheryl said, with more vehemence than Lacey had ever heard from her friend. “You haven't spoken to any of our other friends in years, Lacey. I'm the only one you have left.” Her heart sank. She was right. Lacey hadn't been a very good friend. In the end, though, it had been easier to acquiesce to Wayne's demands when it came to maintaining her friendships. Most of them had simply withered away. “I ... I know ... that's kind of what this is about,” Lacey said, her voice soft and dejected. “Shit,” Cheryl said much more quietly than before, almost a whisper in comparison. “Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that to come out that way.” “No, you're right,” Lacey said. “But, I'm trying to change that, okay? So, I need you to listen to me. On the other end of the line, Lacey's best friend took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said after a long, slow exhale. “Okay, I got you. We've got this together. Alright?” “Good,” Lacey said, her finger going back to idly twirl a lock of hair. “Now, this is what I need ...” # # # Lacey and Slash rode out to their meeting point later that night. It was off in the backroads, nestled back in the trees, and away from any major highways. The roads were so treacherous, with theirs twisting and winding, that it would have been suicide to trust yourself on them without headlights. Which, Slash had explained, was the point. If anyone came out here, following after Cheryl, they’d know. Especially with how far out from the main thoroughfares this place was, and how late they were having their meeting.

“How'd you know about this place?” Lacey asked, mildly suspicious, as they dismounted from Slash's bike at a small dead end. There was a small parking place, and then the road faded out of existence and became an ATV trail that disappeared off into the dark, mist-infused woods. She knew the myths and legends about the outlaw motorcycle gangs, the Hell's Angels, the Bandidos. She knew that not all gangs were like that, though. She'd tried not to push too much on knowing about the dealings of the Battleborn since she'd first arrived at the clubhouse. Their president was, after all, one of her oldest friends and her personal savior. Not to mention, of course, she was sharing his bed. And, other than being a little rough around the edges, the guys all seemed pretty alright. Of course, if Lacey was being honest, the guys in the MC seemed more than just a little rough. They seemed positively jagged. Almost serrated. And, to top it all off, Slash hadn't exactly seemed forthcoming when it came to information that didn't directly concern her, especially when it was related to the club. “Club business,” was all he would say, nine times out of ten. It was a surprise to her then when he answered her question. “My father used to bring me out here to go deer hunting. Knew these woods like the back of my hand when I was a kid. We had a deer stand about a mile's hike up that trail.” Lacey laughed. “Figured you'd just say 'club business' again,” she said, impersonating his growling baritone on the last two words. “Ha,” Slash said, slapping his gloves on his thigh to brush the road dust from them, “ha.” “How much longer till she shows up?” she asked with a shiver. The early spring air had a chill to it, the kind you normally only found in the early hours of the morning, just before sunset. Tonight, though, a soft wind stirred the new leaves on the trees, sending their branches dancing to and fro in the blue-black sky. It was just before midnight, and the cool air seemed early for this time of year. “Probably a few more minutes,” Slash said, patting the spot next to him on the bike. “Take a load off, the engine'll keep you warm.” Frowning, Lacey bit her lower lip. “Do you think he'd really follow her?” Slash shrugged. “Maybe he will. Maybe he won't. But we both know Wayne and how he is, best not to take any unnecessary risks. You remember back in school.” She remembered. Wayne had gotten out of line a number of times, and it should have been a warning sign to her. She should have seen all of this coming from a mile way, just because of that one thing. Neither her nor Slash seemed able to bring it up by name, like it was taboo or something. Beside her, though, he had tensed up a little at the memory. Clearly, it wasn't just water under the bridge to him. Lacey let the issue simmer and linger, just beneath the surface. A pair of headlights broke the moment. They belonged to a late model sedan, a Honda, and they slowed as the car came closer. Lacey brought up a hand, shielding her eyes from the blinding light of the high beams, and peered out at the car from around her fingers. When the lights finally illuminated Lacey and Slash fully, the car came to complete halt and killed the engine and, thankfully, the headlights, too. Lacey thought the car looked like Cheryl's, but she couldn't be for sure in the dim light of the stars overhead, no matter

how bountiful they were this far out from town. She glanced to Slash, who glanced back at her. “That her?” Slash asked. His hand was inside his coat. What he was grabbing, Lacey couldn't tell for sure. Was it a gun? A knife? Honestly, neither would have surprised her. The only thing that did actually surprise her was how secure she felt knowing he might be armed. Never in a million years could you have convinced pre-wedding Lacey Cox that being around a weapon of some sort would one day make her feel safe. But, here she was. The car door opened, but the dome light didn't trigger. Silently, the driver stepped out. “Lacey?” Cheryl whispered. “Cheryl?” Lacey whispered back. “You can talk normally,” Slash said, his voice drier than the Sahara during a drought. His leather coat creaked and rustled a little as he withdrew his hand from inside. “Oh,” Cheryl said. She fumbled with her keys in the dark and popped her trunk. She turned back to her, and waved her hands in the air in celebration. “I got your stuff!” Lacey clapped and went running over to her. They met halfway and hugged. “Oh,” Cheryl said as they held each other, just like sisters, “I'm so going to fucking kill you when this is over with.” She soothed the back of Lacey's hair down as they both laughed. Lacey's former maid-of-honor pulled back from the hug, grabbed her by both arms, and held her at arm's length. “You are okay, right?” she asked, emphasizing the verb. “Yes,” Lacey replied, nearly exasperated. “I told you that fifty times over the phone, girl. Why don't you believe me?” “Well, gee, Lacey, lemme fucking think about it,” she said, really laying sarcasm on thick and heavy. “Because you told me everything was fine on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday fucking morning, before you literally jumped out a window and disappeared from your wedding.” Lacey almost stamped her foot in frustration. Her friend was right to be worried. Even though Lacey had escaped a bad situation, Cheryl didn't know the particulars of everything. She just thought her friend had lost her ever-loving mind. “Who's tall, dark, and tattoo-guy over there, anyway?” Cheryl asked, nodding her head past Lacey to Slash. “That?” Lacey asked. “That's Slash.” “Slash, huh? He the new boy-toy, or something?” “What?” Lacey asked, the astonishment at her friend's accusation filling her voice. “Why would you-?”

“Look, girl,” Cheryl said, “I get it. Wayne's a fucking tool. Sure, he's rich and had a good job, but he's so creepy and fake.” “Wait,” Lacey said, holding up a hand. “You thought he was creepy and fake? And you never told me?” Cheryl shrugged. “You liked him, so I kept my mouth shut.” She shifted her look back to Slash and gave him a little wave. “I like the new one, though. He looks rough. Is he?” “Is he what?” “Well, you know,” Cheryl replied, her eyes lighting up, even in the darkness of the deserted road, “rough?” Lacey rolled her eyes. “God, you're the worst.” “You love me,” her friend replied. “Do I get to meet him, at least?” “Yes, you get to meet him. And, by the way, no, he's not my new boy toy. I didn't plan to run off with him.” Cheryl frowned a little, like her hopes had been dashes against the rocks of reality. Clearly, she'd wanted an illicit love affair, or something equally flashy and fun, to be the ultimate cause of Lacey's fleeing. The more they spoke, though, the more that look in Cheryl's eyes began to slowly fade away. “Did you bring my bag?” Lacey asked. “Got it in the trunk. I see why you wanted it in a backpack, by the way. Roller luggage wouldn't work on a bike, would it?” Together, they went back to Cheryl's trunk and grabbed Lacey's bag. In the yellowish light from the trunk's overhead light, Cheryl peered at her best friend, seemingly looking for signs of weakness, fear, or deceit. Lacey grabbed the backpack, her old college bag, and slipped it on. “Wayne said,” Cheryl began, the words clearly leaving a bad taste in her mouth, “to tell you that he'll still take you back, even after all the trouble you put him through.” After all the years of abuse, gas lighting, and bullshit that man had put her through, he had the audacity to try for the higher ground. Lacey gritted her teeth and made a noise of frustration, anger. “Did he use those exact words?” Lacey demanded, seething with anger. Her voice echoed out over the deserted woods, but was answered back by only the rustling of branches. Startled at the flash of anger, Cheryl took a step back. “Yeah, he did. Why?” Boots crunched on the road as Slash came bounding over, quick as lightning. “What's wrong?” he growled as he approached. “You okay?” “Wayne,” Lacey spat. “That fucking asshole said he'd take me back even after all the trouble I've put him

through.” Slash didn't respond. Not at first. He took his time, thinking over his words as Cheryl gazed up at him in some sort of strange awe. “Like,” Lacey continued, “this has all been my fault, all on me. Fuck him.” “Show her,” Slash said, his voice steady. Fear and shame rose up inside of her, though. She didn't to show her friend what she'd been hiding all these years. Just the betrayal of not telling her best friend, it would be too much to pile on top of all the other pain she'd already endured. “Show me what?” Cheryl asked, a sudden resolve and strength entering her voice. Slash looked at her, his eyes caring and soft, but his mouth set and determined. “I know you don’t want to,” he said. “I understand how you feel, but she should know. For her own sake, and for yours.” He was right. She had to show her friend. She had to accept the consequences of her actions, of her decision to hide things from the people she cared about, and who cared about her. She turned her face away, a frown firmly set on her lips, and grabbed the bottom hem of her shirt. “Show me-” Cheryl repeated, but was cut off by Lacey lifting her shirt to show her mottled and bruised midriff. The other woman went pale and mute. After a couple days of healing her skin had gone from a stark blue-red to a splotchy jaundiced yellow as the bruises and contusions had begun to dissipate. They were the sickly color of old injuries, the kind that couldn't have been faked in just one day. It was clear they would have taken an extended amount of time to build up, time that she and Slash hadn't had since the wedding. Cheryl covered her mouth with one hand and let out a low, soul-shattering sob. It was like she'd taken all of Lacey's pain over the years, gathered it up, and compressed it all down into that one, single, guttural note. “How?” she asked. “How did you ...?” How had she hidden it from her? How had she avoided telling anyone? How had she not left Wayne sooner? How had she ever considered marrying that man? There were a hundred questions Lacey imagined her friend asking. “How did you,” her friend finally asked, though, “get in touch with Slash to get away?” Tears filled the corner of her eyes as she drew Lacey into a hug, pulling her against herself. “I didn't,” Lacey said, surprised tears running down her face, as she returned her friend's embrace. “I just took off out of the bridal room. I went out through the forest, and he was pulling over on the highway when I looked up.” “Oh, my God,” Cheryl said, her tears really coming down now, “that's so weirdly fucking sweet.”

They sobbed into each other. “Thank you,” Lacey said. “Thank me?” her ex-maid of honor asked. “Thank Slash.” “Uh,” Slash said from beside them, his boots shifting in the gravel. He was clearly uncomfortable with the amount of female energy coming off them in waves. He must have felt like a buoy in a flood of estrogen. They broke their hug, both wiping tears from the corners of their eyes and drying their cheeks. Cheryl grabbed Lacey by her shoulders and leveled her gaze. “Tell me what you need me to do.” “Nothing,” Lacey replied, shaking her head. “I don't want you near him, or any of this. Wayne's not stable, and I don't want you at risk.” “Yeah,” Slash said from beside them. “Best thing for you would be to get out of town.” “What?” Cheryl asked, shocked. She shook her head, dismissing them both. “I'm not doing that shit.” She'd always been stubborn, more stubborn than any person Lacey had ever met in her entire life. That was probably why they were still friends, truth be told. Every time Lacey wanted to put off plans, or had been forced to because of Wayne, Cheryl wouldn't take no for an answer. She'd just show up anyways. Lacey smiled, wiped away another tear that had trickled down her cheek. “The cops are involved, girl. Wayne's coming for Slash, too.” “We don't know what he's going to do,” Slash added. “You think I can afford to take a trip after all this wedding bullshit?” Beside them, Slash dug into his back pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. There must have been thousands of dollars. “Here,” he said, taking Cheryl's hand and stuffing the money into it, “take this and disappear. Just for a little while? Okay?” Her friend looked down at the stack of folded bills the big biker had just placed in her hand. Her jaw had fallen open, and if she wasn't careful she was going to get gravel pits on it. She looked back up to Slash, then to Lacey. “Are you fucking kidding me? What is this?” Lacey, as astonished as Cheryl had been, looked at Slash. Where had he gotten that kind of money? Did he keep stacks of cash on reserve, or something? “Traveling cash, okay? Just stay gone, and Lacey will call you till it's safe. We don't want to give Wayne anymore leverage, or any other ways he might be able to track her. Please,” he said, his voice low and deadly serious, “this is for her safety, too. Not just yours.” Her eyes changed. They narrowed, became harder, just as they were being opened to the world. Cheryl nodded, the gravity of the situation clearly beginning to set in. “Okay,” she said, looking from Slash to Lacey, and back again. “Okay, you're probably right. Should I go right now?” “Right now,” Slash agreed, nodding his head emphatically. “Soon as you can. Got it? And use the cash as

much as possible, not your cards. Cops can track cards.” “But, I don't even have any clothes.” “Make it a shopping vacation, then,” Slash insisted. “There should be plenty there.” “Just go,” Lacey said, grabbing her stunned friend's hand. “I'll be fine. He can protect me.” “I just don't know if we can protect everybody,” Slash said to Cheryl, emphasizing the last word. “Not unless you want to go into hiding, too.” Cheryl shook her head at first, then shrugged. “Not unless you got some sexy bikers to keep me company, too.” Slash grinned a little to acknowledge her joke, but it quickly faded. “Unfortunately, not where we're staying.” He stopped and looked at both of them, his eyes cold and steely. This was a man who had things under control. Who could take care of Lacey, keep her safe. “Say your goodbyes, ladies. We gotta get back.” Lacey didn't bristle at his statement. There was something about the way he said it, where it was just a statement of fact, and not a command, that she just nodded. “You heard the man,” she said, grinning a little lopsided grin as Slash turned around and headed back to his bike. “Yeah,” Cheryl said, agreeing with her. “I guess I gotta go. Where to, though?” Lacey shook her head. “I don't think we should know,” she said. “I just want you to be safe. Okay? Go somewhere far away. Far as you can get.” Cheryl nodded. “Got it,” she said, then shook her head. “Shit.” “What?” Lacey asked, squeezing her hand. “This is just so surreal,” Cheryl said, laughing a little as she squeezed her hand back. “Okay, I'm gone.” The two women hugged again, more tightly this time. Lacey noticed that Cheryl avoided her bruised areas when she squeezed. Not that it really mattered to Lacey. She'd long ago learned to bear the constant pain. They separated and Cheryl got back in her car as Lacey headed back over to Slash. Her friend started up the little Honda and turned around, pulling back onto the road and heading off down the winding road. Together, they waited in the silence, not saying a word. Lacey wanted to ask Slash about the money, about where it had come from. But, at the same time, she didn't want to know the answer. Instead, she just buried it down beneath a layer of reminders that she trusted this man. That, yes, he was dangerous. But, at least she'd known that when she pulled him into bed with her. But, even more than that, she wanted to ask him about whether or not he really was worried about Cheryl. She hoped more than anything that she hadn't accidentally pulled her friend into a web of danger.

“She'll be fine,” Slash said, somehow detecting her unease without her even saying anything. “I'm just being cautious, that's all.” “You don't think he'd really do anything to her, would he?” He shook his head silently. “I don't know. But, if we remove your friend from the equation, we prevent him from using her. Don't we?” “Yeah,” Lacey replied as they watched her friend drive away into the night, high beams on. “I suppose so.” Soon, Cheryl's taillights disappeared around the bend, and even the sound of her distant car couldn't be heard anymore over the shaking of the tree limbs all around the pair. “Ready?” Slash asked as he climbed back onto his chopper. “Yeah,” Lacey said. “I'm ready.” She hopped up on his chopper behind him and, together, they took off through the night.

Chapter 19 Slash It was the MC's traditional night off from opening Fresh B & B in the morning, and the Battleborn clubhouse was in full swing when they got back. Slash, normally always one for a party, didn't really appreciate it. They were supposed to be keeping a low profile while all this shit was going on. Not having a party out in front, complete with burning barrels and drunk club girls littering the parking lot. Still, he had to admit he hadn't specifically told the guys not to have one. And, when you got down to it, it would actually be more suspicious if they didn't throw a party. That might get their usual attendees talking about changes going on in the club. Changes that very well might tip off Wayne as to where Lacey might be hiding. Engine idling, he walked his rumbling bike through the crowd of revelers to his parking spot through the crowd of revelers. Lacey shifted around in her seat, her head whipping back and forth, as they moved through the crowd. “Oh, my god,” she said, amazed by the array of people, “this is fucking insane.” “Ain't even midnight, yet,” Slash said, trying to suppress a grin. “Things don't get really going till closer to two.” They got down off Slash's bike, and he ushered her inside and away from the madness. There weren't ticket takers at this kind of thing, no one checking ID's. There was no telling what kind of person could just walk up and scope out the place. Lacey was safer inside, away from the noise and all the potential interlopers. “You guys have these a lot?” she shouted as they pushed their way through the crowded entry and into the densely-packed rec room. He had a hand on her as they threaded their way through the mass of people. “Every week,” he shouted back as he pulled her along in his wake. “Gotta let the boys blow off some steam, you know?” “Just some steam?” she shouted back, a grin growing on her lips. “This is worse than the keggers in college!” They entered the rec room and headed back to the hallway that led through to the bunks. All manner of people packed the place: freaks, punks, bikers, you name it. But most of them all had two common denominators: black leather and tattoos. Here, Lacey stuck out like a pure near-virginal thumb. “Frat boys are fucking pansies,” Slash shouted back, a big grin spreading on his lips. As much as he knew he needed to protect Lacey, that she was his priority, he still wanted to stay out here in the hustle and bustle of the drunken crowd. He might need the couple hours’ silence in the morning, but

he needed this kind of release in the same way. Drinking beer with your buddies, cheering on the collegeaged girls doing body shots off each other, all with the loudest music a person had ever heard pumping through the heart of the building, the bass thumping like a giant heavy metal heart. Indulging in those baser impulses of his made him feel alive, just like racing down the highway with Lacey on the back of his bike did. But, priorities were priorities. They turned the corner and he led her down the hallway, back to his bunk. Familiar faces greeted him, clapped him on the back. People from the bar he and the guys frequented, and even the occasional customer from the restaurant. He pushed the door that led into his bunk, dragged Lacey inside, and firmly shut the door behind him. Thanks to the huge amounts of sound proofing he'd installed, the party outside the walls quieted to a dull roar they didn't need to shout over in order to be heard. He tossed his jacket and vest over the seat of his chair and went to his dresser, pulled out his bottle of bourbon. “Sorry about the party,” he said as he pulled down a shot glass from his shelf. “Didn't even think about it being tonight.” He poured a shot for himself. She tossed her backpack over in the corner, on top of his coat. “Why be sorry?” she asked as she sidled up next to him and slipped a lithe arm around his waist. He could already feel the fires building as she touched his body, just like the night before. “Just, the noise and all. You don't seem much like the partying type.” She reached down and snatched up his shot before he could take it. “What makes you think I'm such a goody two-shoes?” she asked, her lower lip pouting as they locked eyes. She grinned and took the shot, winced and shook her head against the burn. Slash laughed. “Kinda what I always liked about you,” he said, taking the glass from her and pouring himself a drink, “that's all.” “Well,” she said, “what if I told you the best part about all the noise is that it just means no one else can hear us?” He laughed again, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. He tilted her chin up to his, bringing their lips closer together. “Then I'd tell you that you ain't been doing it right all these years.” Recovered from the kick of the bourbon, she smiled as her lust-filled eyes burned with need. He leaned down as he pulled Lacey to him, crushed her lips with his. His kiss was firm, insistent, and she quickly parted her lips for his tongue. The taste of the liquor on her was a strange aphrodisiac, bizarrely stimulating to him. She pressed her body into his, her breasts flattening against his chest as he gripped her tighter around the waist and let his free hand begin to roam over her firm body. The swell of her hips, the fullness of her breasts. Even though he'd hardly touched them before yesterday, it was like returning to an old, forgotten friend. “I missed you for all those years,” he growled. “Thought about you every day.”

She smiled a little, kissed him again. He groaned as she slid her tongue into his mouth, quickly, briefly, before biting his lower lip as she pulled away. His eyes flickered between her lips and her gaze for a moment, then he grabbed her hand and led her over to the bed. “And, now that I've got you here ...” he said as he pulled her along. Willingly, she let herself be pulled along. “Going to show me how much you missed me?” she asked. He could feel his excitement growing, straining against his jeans. More than anything, he wanted her writhing beneath his touch, wanted to feel the softness of her skin, and her strong legs wrapped around his back. He turned and kissed her again, this time more forcefully, then pushed her down onto the edge of the bed. “Something like that,” he said. She reached up, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and pulled his lips down to hers. They kissed again, their hands tearing at each other's clothes. Their breath fast and panting between kisses, and soon she had him stripped down to just his boxer briefs, and he had her stripped to her bra and panties. His hands ran over her smooth skin, caressing and kneading her flesh, loving the way she felt beneath them. His lips covered her body, and she arched into his kisses and bites. She purred beneath his attention, pulled him onto his bed as she backed onto it. He crawled onto the bed after her, his hand slipping between her thighs and she spread her legs for him with a whimper, inviting him to move higher. He edged his hand higher, teasing her with his fingertips. Heat was rolling off her, enticing him to go higher and higher, to find her hidden treasure. She bit his lip again, thrust her hips a little to try and encourage his continued climb. Slashed grinned, loving how responsive she was. He kissed her again as he slipped a hand behind her back and began to unhook her bra. He began to unfasten her piece of lingerie, began to unveil those orbs he'd admired the night before. Suddenly, someone knocked on his door. Frustrated, they both sighed, then smiled at each other in spite of everything. “What?” Slash roared back over his shoulder at the door. “Who the fuck is it?” The voice said something, but Slash couldn't hear it over the music. “Who?” he roared again. “Rachel!” the visitor yelled through the door. Rachel. One of the club girls who always draped themselves all over him until he gave them the dick they were begging for. She was pretty enough, slight like Lacey, but with great hips and an innocent looking smile. But something about her just drove him up the wall if he saw her more than a couple days in a row. He couldn't quite put his finger on whatever it was, but something just didn't feel right. Of course, there were other things about her that felt just fine. But not like Lacey. “Rachel?” Lacey asked.

“Just one of the club girls,” he said dismissively. He went to get up, to pull some pants on and send her packing on her way. He was occupied, after all. “Coming,” he yelled. “I'll get rid of her.” Lacey, though, had other ideas. She gestured for him to move, and hopped off the bed wearing just her underwear. There was just something about her gesture, about the quiet strength of it that he just immediately paid attention to. It reminded him, almost, of the girl he remembered from high school. It was like a return to that “take no shit” attitude he'd been so intrigued by all those years ago. She strode over to the door, her beautiful ass swaying from side to side with each step. Before Slash could stop her, she'd thrown open the door. Music rolled back into the room, filling it to the brim, as the door flew open. And there in the hallway, leaning up against the frame of the door, stood Rachel, arms crossed. “Hey, big boy,” Rachel said, as if on cue, before she realized Slash wasn't the one opening the door. Rachel stood up straight and made a scrunched-up face as she looked the half-naked Lacey up and down. “Who the fuck are you, bitch?” “Bitch?” Lacey sneered. “I'm who's fucking Slash. Who the fuck are you?” “I'm—” Rachel started to say. Lacey didn't bother to hear her out. She just slammed the door in her face and flipped the deadbolt in place. She turned back around and started back for the bed. She strutted back to him, rolling her hips as she walked. He realized that something inside her had changed in that moment. Slash could just stare up at her as she approached, could just watch the subtle movements of her body. “Fucking bitch!” Rachel screamed from the other side of the door, before kicking the bottom of it like a spoiled, petulant child. Lacey ignored the club girl as she strutted back to the bed, rolling her hips with each step. “You ready for this?” she asked with a wicked grin. Slash grinned up at her and nodded. “Definitely.” She reached behind her and unsnapped her bra and crawled back onto the edge of the bed. He reached a hand down and grabbed her, dragging her back up to his lips. They embraced again, their hands returning to their previous explorations. He slipped a hand down between her thighs, slid his fingers beneath her drenched panties. She reached inside his underwear, wrapped her hand around his cock. She ran her thumb over the head, swirling it. They groaned into each other's mouths as they felt each other, as they realized how excited they were to be together again. She grabbed the top of his waist band and began to drag his underwear down around his hips and he likewise pulled at her panties. Together, they struggled and writhed out of their remaining clothes, desperate to be together, to be joined. She succeeded in removing his, first, and his cock sprang to attention, desperate for her continued touch. She smiled as she rolled on her back and lifted her hips up, letting him pull hers off. Completely naked, they kissed again, their bodies warm and needful as they clung together.

“Please,” she begged, her eyes desperate, “just fuck me. I want to feel you in me.” He growled his own want and reached down to guide his cock to her slick opening. He pressed himself to her sopping wet lips, the head of his cock parting them easily. She bit her lip and nodded as her hands traced fire up and down his back, the nails scraping across his bare skin like the points of knives. Sensation shot through his body, pure unadulterated pleasure, as he slid part of the way into her. His mouth opened a little, his breath coming faster and more raggedly, as he gripped her hips. She thrust her hips forward, encouraging him. “Please,” she pleaded, again. He shoved harder, pushing into her., sliding all the way into her in one long, deep stroke. He didn't stop till be bottomed out in her, his heavy balls resting against her perfect ass. Lacey's eyes rolled back as she pressed her head back into the mattress. “Oh fuck,” she groaned, dragging out each word till she could almost no longer breathe. She arched her hips into him, grinding herself on the base of his cock, pressing her clit against him. She lifted her legs and hooked them over his ass, began to pull him in and out of her. They moved against each other like that, panting as they made out, grinding their bodies against each other. It was fueled by need, a need to find sense in everything around them. Lacey dug her nails into Slash's back, digging red lines over his skin as he drove into her harder and faster. He pulled back his lips, dipped his head down and sucked an erect nipple between his lips, nipped it lightly with his teeth. She pressed herself into his mouth, her whole body shaking as he continued to plow into her. Her abs contracted, her breasts shook, her mouth opened and closed of its own volition. Her walls tightened around his cock, massaging him, as she came hard, her whole body lifting on the mattress and going rigid. Grunting and grinning, he kissed her again. “Did you like that?” he asked before attacking her neck with his flashing teeth and flicking tongue. “Oh, God, do it again,” she panted out, then groaned. “Here,” she said as she pushed against his chest, “I have an idea.” “What?” Slash asked. He could feel himself getting closer to popping, and his instincts were kicking in. He couldn't think of anything he wanted more than to just grab hold of her shoulders and fuck the hell out of her. “I want on top,” she said, pushing him again, and not stopping till he gave in and rolled over. Still connected in the most intimate way possible, Slash rolled over on his back and dragged her on top of him. He popped another nipple in his mouth, smiling as he suckled delightedly at it. He rested his hands on her hips, but didn't exert any pressure. She'd wanted to be on top, it was up to her to decide the tempo and depth of their fucking. Now supporting herself on her knees, she began to move on top of him. Smiling down at him, she drew herself off his cock till the tip had just barely left her, then she'd slide all the way back to the base. She

stroked him from tip to bottom this way as they continued to kiss and caress each other. When they weren't kissing, their eyes remained locked by a mutual unspoken accord. Each time she pulled herself off and descended again, it was like a long slow stroke from a velvet glove. The feel of his head parting her lips each time, and so slowly, was one of the most intense, pleasurable feelings he'd ever experienced in his entire life. He could feel it down in his feet, this tingle passion that nearly shook his whole body. “Like that?” she asked as he sucked in another sharp breath. It was like he was looking into her soul, plumbing her depths with more than just his manhood. “Goddamn your pussy feels amazing,” he gasped out, not knowing what else to say. “Your dick feels pretty damned good, too,” she said, kissing him again. He wanted to say it, then. The words. But he couldn't. Not now, not in case she threw them back in his face later. Besides, it didn't matter, none of that mattered. What mattered was that the most beautiful woman ever, inside and out, was moving on top of him, and giving him something he’d never experienced. They kissed again, and she began to speed up the movements of her hips. She rubbed just the right way on his cock, and moaned loudly into his mouth again. He grabbed her hips hard, now, sensing that this was the moment to take control back. She wanted it to be deep, he could tell, wanted to have it hit all the right spots inside her. He began to move her up and down his cock, could feel her dripping wet lips as they stretched over him, clung to him on each stroke. “Oh,” she groaned again, “please, Dustin, please fuck me.” He noticed her use of his real name, but didn't mention it. Something about it at this moment, as they melted into one another like this, began to feel right. It was like she was poking through the defenses he'd built, burrowing through the bulwarks and barriers he'd erected over the years. He thrust up off the bed, driving deep into her, grinding his hips so the base of his cock stimulated her clit. She trembled and shook again, just like before. She cried out one more time before biting down hard on his shoulder. His hand moved from hips to ass, pulling her more fully under his control. He bounced her on his cock, moving her bodily up and down like a featherweight as he thrust up to meet each downward stroke. She cried out again around the meat of his shoulder at first, before biting down harder than before and digging her nails into his flesh. He could feel it. He was so close to climaxing, so closing to filling her. Sweat poured from their bodies as he pivoted harder into her. “I'm coming,” he said, finally, pounding into her as he slammed her back down onto his hard length, filling her. “Please, please,” she begged, moaning, her body practically vibrating as she shook in his arms. He tensed up as pleasure erupted in his body and he felt himself empty into her. His vision seemed to fade to black as his whole body thrummed with energy. He'd never cum like this before, and his whole body seemed to spasm as he pumped into Lacey and exhausted himself into her. She seemed to greedily eat him up, pulsating and throbbing around him, milking him as he thrust into her. They cried out together, pulling each other close as they blasted off into orbit.

“Oh,” Slash groaned as he released his hold on her ass, “oh my God.” “Yeah,” Lacey whispered back in his ear, awe in her voice as she was shaken by after tremors. “That was just ...” “Yeah,” Slash said, finishing the nonexistent thought. He didn't know how to finish it, didn't think he'd ever be able to. It was like a little part of him had found fulfillment just then, as they were bound together, then lost it. She rolled off him and collapsed on the bed, beside him. She ran a hand over his chest and cuddled up against his side. He put an arm around her and pulled her close, not caring about how damp their bodies were in the cool air. All that mattered was that as much skin as possible was touching. Just like the night before, she seemed to fit against him, like her body was made for his. She kissed him on the cheek and nuzzled into his neck. “Like having me on top?” she asked. “God yes,” he said, grinning like a lovesick schoolboy. He almost said it again, but he bit back the words. It was too soon. Even after almost a decade, the wounds still felt fresh. Especially with the way she'd pierced through the chinks in his armor when she'd called out his name. It wasn't like him to think this way, and he wasn't completely sure on how to proceed. Things had been simpler before Lacey had come along, that was for sure. That said, though, he wasn't sure simple was necessarily a good thing. Maybe complicated was okay, too. The euphoria he was feeling, though, was more than enough help when it came to pushing these thoughts away. “Sleep now?” she asked from beside him, her voice muscled by his shoulder. “Sleep,” he agreed. Tomorrow was Monday. And that meant it was going to be a long, trying day.

Chapter 20 Lacey She lay there in bed, listening to the sounds of the dying party and the slow, even breathing of Slash. She'd stayed snuggled up against him, almost as if he was a security blanket. As she curled against her knight in shining biker leathers, her thoughts raced as fast as Slash's bike. Yesterday, she'd been about to be a married woman. Tonight, she was asserting her dominance against biker chicks while wearing nothing but her underwear. But, she still didn't know what she wanted. She didn't have any goals. Other than, of course, getting through the next few days. And, on top of that, getting clear of the long reach of Wayne Walker. Maybe she should have just run off with Cheryl, taken Slash's money and fled as far as she could go. That still wouldn't solve her problem, though. Her family would have just become a distant memory, faded and old. What few friends she'd have would be gone, too. Except Cheryl, of course, if she'd gone with her. It wouldn't have mattered anyways, though. The long arm of the Walker estate would have found her. And, in the meantime, he would have just made Slash pay twice as much as he did before. She berated herself over being so stupid as to think she'd ever loved Wayne. How could she have chosen him over this man lying in her bed now? How could she have let her former fiancée get away with as much as he had? Whatever the case, Slash would never accept her. These last two nights of fucking were just that. No matter how wonderful they'd felt, for both of them, that's all they were: sex. Except for tonight, of course. She'd never experienced anything even approaching the intensity of that. The way he'd looked into her eyes as they moved together, almost perfectly in sync. It was like they'd been made for each other, a perfect fit. She couldn't get attached, though. There couldn't be anything with Slash. No matter how she felt about him now. She understood his hesitation earlier now. It was too little too late. Not wanting to disturb Slash, she only mentally shook her head as she tried to clear her thoughts away. She needed to get some sleep for the first time in forever. At least with Slash, she slept well. She felt like she hadn't gotten a single night's rest in the last few years. She'd always been too worried about the future, about what would make Wayne fly off the handle the next time, or some small slight that he'd said. Here though she knew was a safe space. A place she could sleep without fear. And, more than anything else, she just hoped it could remain that way.

Chapter 21 Slash Court rooms in real life are nothing like court rooms on television. They're dingy feeling, with bad lighting, and empty seating. The public doesn't care about most court hearings, not unless a loved one is involved in them. Slash had been in his fair share over the years, both as a supporter of those accused, and an accused himself. He sat back, away from the front, not wanting to make his black leathers and patched vest stand out any more than was unnecessary. This was just an arraignment hearing, not a trial with witnesses where the Battleborn had to be there in force in order to remind them of who they were testifying against. Besides, the farther away he was from the front, the less likely the judge or bailiffs to see the bloody rage in his eyes, or to hear the furious grinding and gnashing of his teeth. After all, one his favorite boys in the world was up front, practically within lunging distance. Jerry was there, standing in the orange suit the county had so graciously provided him. To Slash, at least, he looked guilty as sin. But that was the problem with those suits. They made everyone look that way. At the judge's bench, in front of Jerry, sat Judge Darvers, Wayne's man in the gown. He was probably in his mid-50s, with the bloodshot nose of a thirty-year drunk. His beady little eyes peered out from behind wire-framed glasses, taking in the whole room like it was his to command. He looked exactly like the kind of man to be in Wayne's pocket. A classic good ol' boy, and a longstanding member of the GOB network. On one side of Jerry stood the Battleborn's lawyer, Mitchell Sherman. Sherman was good, smart, and about as trustworthy as any lawyer could be. Which meant, as long as you could afford his fees, he was your best friend and most trusted confidante. The second that cash dried up, though? You'd be lucky if he remembered your name. On the other side of the wayward Battleborn member stood the well-coiffed, spotless, and apparently carefree assistant DA Wayne Walker. He wore a perfectly tailored navy blue suit, cut to show his frame. He was the perfect specimen of a defender of the public's best interest, and probably looked great in front of the TV cameras. But Slash could see through the flimsy elegant facade for the piece of shit woman-beater he really was. Slash could barely control his fists from clenching, could hardly keep himself from leaping right over the bar separating the public viewing area from the well, the part where the lawyers and judges sat. He lectured silently to himself that he needed to stay calm. He needed to remain cool. He took a deep breath, held it, exhaled. He did it again. And again. This was not just Jerry's freedom on the line, by maybe the whole of the Battleborn. Doing anything rash or stupid now would just hurt all their chances down the line when it came to getting out of this. “Your honor,” Sherman, Jerry's lawyer, said, “defense would like to request the court release my client on his own recognizance.” “Prosecutor?” Judge Darver asked, his beady little eyes shifting to Wayne.

“Your honor,” Wayne began, “the prosecution feels that the defendant is a flight risk, due to his associates and the nature of his lifestyle. We'd like to petition that he be remanded until trial.” “Shit,” Slash swore beneath his breath. If they remanded him, he wouldn't be getting out of that hole for God knows how long. Depending on how flimsy the case was, Wayne could well try and keep his case at the bottom of the docket damn near indefinitely. He leaned forward, put his hands between his knees, and tried to keep them from shaking. “Your honor,” Sherman said, stepping forward, “my client is employed, is involved in charitable work for disadvantaged children and the community, and has ties throughout the county. The idea that he'd be a flight risk is patently ridiculous.” “Your client,” Wayne retorted before the judge could get a word in edgewise, “is a waiter, does one toy drive at Christmas every year, and is involved with a motorcycle gang. I don't think I'd characterize him as an upstanding member of this community, or any other.” Sherman went to retort, his mouth half-open, but Darver banged his gavel twice, cutting him off. “That's enough, counselors,” he said, slamming the gavel again. “You've convinced me, Mr. Walker. Seeing as he has ties to this motorcycle gang, I'll leave him remanded till his trial date. Court dismissed.” Slash was fuming. They were holding him as a flight risk? He hadn't done anything serious! He got up and stormed down the central aisle. He could hear the proceedings continuing behind him, despite the gavel having been sounded multiple times. He stopped to look back, to see if there was any more that would happen. “But, your honor,” Sherman said, approaching the bench. “If you'd like to speak to me about this case,” Judge Darver said, his voice level and coldly cruel, “you can see me in my chambers this afternoon. Until then, I am done with this, Mr. Sherman.” “Yes sir, your honor,” Sherman said, backing off a little. Raging, Slash slammed into the exit and pushed out into the hallway, scattering a crowd of civilians. He took as many deep breaths as he could, held them as long as he was able. But, it wasn't any help. He was seeing red. He went and sat on a bench outside the courtroom and put his head down. He clasped his hands together, squeezed them hard, and tried to control his outrage. When the anger got really bad, he had to do this, had to control himself. In his earlier years, just after high school, he'd discovered that he had a temper, a pit of rage that sat deep inside of him. It was part of how he'd joined the Battleborn in the first place. Apparently, they respected it when a thin gawky guy could take on one of their patched members mano a mano, even if it had been because he lost his temper in a biker bar parking lot. It wasn't till after his first few years in the MC, though, and Tiny talking to him about it, that he'd realized it was a problem. Tiny, who'd been a jarhead in Desert Storm, taught him how to control the anger as best he could. When that kind of anger struck him, in a crowded room or even a public place, that was the last place to lose it. Slash didn't know how long he stayed like that, how many minutes he spent just focusing on his breathing

like Tiny had taught. Eventually, the anger began to recede from the forefront of his mind. The thunderheads that had reared their ugly faces on the horizon had slipped back behind the curve of the earth. But, they of course were still there. They just weren't a threat to anyone else at the moment. Someone cleared their throat, bringing Slash back to reality. “You okay?” Sherman asked. “Tough break in there.” Slash didn't glance up. He just nodded, and sat upright, his eyes straight ahead. “Mind if I sit?” his lawyer asked, gesturing to the bench. Slash ran a hand down his face. He'd been up later than he should have the night before with Lacey, and had left her sleeping in his bed that morning. All that exhaustion was hitting him like a ton of bricks now. “Sure thing,” Slash said, not bothering to scoot over or make any room. Sherman squeezed into the spot next to him, put his briefcase across his lap. He wasn't a small guy, not by any means, but he was almost dwarfed next to Slash. “There's nothing we can do,” Slash asked after a short, but pregnant silence, “is there?” The lawyer shook his head. “We can try and appeal, but there's no guarantee on that, though.” “My guy's a sitting duck in there,” Slash said, his voice low. “Other clubs are going to smell blood in the water and get somebody into lockup, or pay someone already there. Jerry ain't exactly pure as the driven snow, here, and he's got enemies.” Clubs like the Lightning Kings, the biggest rivals to the Battleborn, had members on the inside. If they heard Slash's MC was beginning to splinter like this, they'd circle on them faster than a shiver of sharks. That's how it was when you warred over territory. You waited for a sign of weakness. Then you struck. And, right now, as the club was divesting its old business and using the cash to open up new flows, was the worst time. He suddenly felt like Germany invading Russia, like he'd opened a second front in this war. Between the law, and the other gangs in the area, the Battleborn were getting backed into a corner. Sherman considered Slash's words for a moment, then sighed. “I could petition for protective custody in there, Slash, but I'm going to be honest with you: you're probably not going to get it for him.” There had to be something he could do, though. Something he could pull. Slash shook his head and ran a hand down his face again. “You gotta have something. You're our lawyer for Christ's sake. Isn't that what we pay you for?” “Look,” Sherman said, his voice quiet and serious. “I'm going to level with you. Judge Darver's normally a pushover, he only gives a shit about cigars and golf. But Wayne's back early from his vacation, and Darver will do damn near anything Wayne Walker asks. With the exception of maybe sacrificing his first born, but even that's up for grabs depending on how much Wayne's daddy is offering for the judge's reelection fund. Now, maybe if he wasn't here on the case, something would have been different. But it's an open secret that Walker's next in line to be DA, and what he wants becomes what everyone else wants. And, apparently, he wants Jerry.”

Slash's stomach sunk, the pit of it just dropping out and disappearing into oblivion. So, it was all Slash's fault, in a way. If he hadn't gone to Lacey and Wayne's wedding, if he hadn't found her on the side of the road and picked her up, they'd both be in Maui, Cancun, or Paris, or whatever, and Jerry would be more than likely getting out today. Goddammit, why'd he have to think he was so fucking clever? “Don't look now,” Sherman said, drawing Slash's decision, “but here's the man of the hour.” He jerked his head right, just in time to see Wayne coming out of the courtroom. He was surrounded by a gaggle of aids, briefcase in hand. They moved down the corridor, talking as they pressed into the crowd. “No, no,” Wayne said, clear as day, “it was her decision. I don't know why she chose to do it, but I feel like she just needs some space to clear her head and reevaluate some things.” Slash went to jump from his seat as he heard those shit-eating words coming out of that shit-eating mouth. DA or not, he was going to slap that smug look off his face, then beat it in just for good measure. “Hey Wayne,” he shouted as he began to rise from the bench. Sherman lay a hand on his forearm, though, before he could. “Hey,” he hissed. “Get hold of yourself, Slash. I'm not going to represent someone who flies off the handle like this.” Wayne, though, had heard the president of the Battleborn's call. He spun around on a heel, easy as he could, a big pearly white grin on his lips like he didn't have a care in the world. His eyes, though, were lit up by something else, something intense and dark. He stuck a hand up in the air and waved to them both, still smiling. Slash growled deep in his chest, like a wild animal or a mad dog. Sherman, though, kept his hand on his arm. “Slash,” he warned. Without the wave acknowledged by either man, Wayne gave them an expressive fake frown. Then, to Slash's absolute disbelief, the motherfucker winked at him before turning around to walk away with his assistants and hangers on. “Did you see that shit, too?” Slash asked his lawyer. “Yeah,” Sherman said, shaking his head. “I don't normally say this about people, especially not peers. But, something’s not right about him. And everyone knows it.” “Really?” Slash asked. “Rumors mostly,” Sherman said, “but not much else. Not enough to get him disbarred or anything, that's for sure. Certainly not with his dad in the background like he is.” “What kind of rumors?” “The usual. Most people don't believe them, though. But, no one denies he can be a real fucking prick.” Slash smirked. “Yeah. And I'm on the receiving end of it right now.”

Mitchell Sherman gave him a half-smile back and went to stand. “Don't worry about your buddy, Slash. The case against him is weak, once we can get it to trial.” “But getting it to trial, that's the problem, isn't it?” The counselor nodded. “That about sums it up. Think your man will last in there?” Slash thought about, then nodded. “Jerry's tough, and we do have some friends on the inside. But, it's gonna-” Sherman held up his hand, stopping him midstream. “Nope,” he said. “Don't want to know. That's a whole rabbit hole I don't want to go down.” The big biker nodded. His lawyer had been clear on a few things when they'd put him on retainer: he didn't want to know the full extent of everything. He wanted a somewhat clear conscience on certain things in his life. “Call if you need anything else,” Sherman said. Slash nodded. “Will do.” The lawyer walked away, briefcase dangling from one hand. Slash would call if he needed anything that he could get. Deep down in his heart of hearts he knew that he could call every lawyer in the county and they still wouldn't be able to help him. He shook his head and got up from the bench. This wasn't going to be solved with the law, that was for damn sure.

Chapter 22 Lacey Lacey was just coming out of the shower when Slash arrived back from court. He tossed his coat on the chair and collapsed on the bed, flopping onto the mattress. He just stared up at the ceiling, unflinching as he watched it. It was such a weird dissonance, this world she'd stumbled into. She went from the bed of one man whose life was consumed by court dates and legal papers, to the bed of another man whose life seemed to teeter on the brink because of it. In a sense, both were two sides of the same coin. “How'd it go?” she asked as she dried her hair. He just half-grunted, half-growled. “That good, huh?” “More or less,” he replied. “Wanna talk about it?” she asked. He shook his head, sighing. “You know I can't.” “I know,” she replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed with one leg curled up beneath her as she continued to dry her hair. “It's club business. And I'm not in the MC.” Her morning had been consumed by thoughts of the night before. Of who this Rachel girl that had arrived at his door so unexpectedly was. Was she an old flame, a woman she should be worried about? There were just so many things that she didn't understand about his world, things that he either couldn't, or wouldn't, explain. “What's bugging you?” he asked, the tone in his voice even and unaffected. It was just a question, with no malice behind. “You okay?” She wasn't sure how she could broach the subject of the other woman. Or if he'd be as recalcitrant about his love life as he was with Battleborn business. “I've just been thinking,” she began after a moment, “about last night.” “What about it?” he asked. There was a certain change to his tone, though. Like he was thinking back fondly on it, already. “You want round two already?” She glanced down at him, saw that little smile of his. She grinned and shook her head, playfully slapping at him with the damp towel she'd been using to dry her hair. “No, not that.” “Well, what then?” he asked.

“Rachel?” “Rachel?” he asked. “The girl that came to your door last night?” “What?” he asked, lifting his head up from the pillow and looking at her, genuinely astonished Lacey was bringing her up. “Her? What about her?” “I'm just ...” Lacey licked her lips as she searched for the right words to use. What would fit here? “You called her a club girl, I think.” He nodded. “Yeah?” “What is that? Exactly?” Slash sighed and rested his head back on the pillow. “Club girls,” he began, “are just like, I dunno, biker groupies. They like hopping on our bikes, riding around with us, having us buy 'em shots, fucking some of the guys. But, they ain't ol' ladies or anything. They ain't our women, even if they wanna be.” “Old ladies?” “Ol' ladies, yeah,” he continued. “You know, like, ol' man, ol' lady?” She stopped drying her hair for a moment, considered what he'd just finished explaining. “So, Slash?” “Yeah?” “Well, what am I?” Sitting up, he laughed and reached out for her, grabbed hold and pulled her close. “Well, you ain't a club girl, that's for damn sure.” She submitted to his warm overpowering embrace and let the smell of leather and cedar, his distinct scent, wash over her as he pulled her to his broad chest. “Yeah?” she asked. “How are you so sure?” “Cause a club girl would only get one round in my bed,” he said with an easy shit-eating grin. “Ha,” she said, giving him a quick peck, “ha.” He leaned down and kissed her, this time making it much more than just a peck on the lips. It was one of those kisses she could feel all the way down her back and down into her tingling toes. They broke their kiss, but held onto each other as their gazes stayed locked. “Hungry?” he asked after a moment. “Yeah,” she said, her stomach grumbling as soon as it realized they were talking about it. “I could eat

something.” He kissed her again. “I'm going to go cook up some grub, get my mind off things.” She nodded and smiled up at him. “Yeah,” she said. “Sounds good.” Slash let her go and got up to leave. As he left the room, she couldn't help but return to the face of Rachel, the other woman. Say what you wanted, she had more than just a passing resemblance to Lacey. And then there was the part about her not being a club girl, about those women only getting one night in his bed. She shook her head, smiling. She wasn't sure about the feelings she had for him, what shape they might be taking on. But she had a sneaking suspicion that not all hope was lost where they were concerned. If, of course, last night was any indication.

Chapter 23 Slash The day had passed idly, with Lacey and him riding the backroads near the clubhouse as he showed her their turf. He hadn't wanted to stray too far away, into town or on the main roads. He was fairly certain Wayne still didn't know where his ex-fiancée was hiding out, and he wanted to keep it that way. With that in mind, he stayed away from any place he was likely to encounter the cops on a random basis. The way things looked, they may very well have been working hand-in-hand with the assistant-DA. Now, though, he'd settled outside in front of the clubhouse with a bottle of beer in an old lawn chair. He gazed up at the sky, tracking the celestial movements of the stars just like he had when he was younger and out tramping in the surrounding woods. Those had been good times, carefree. Of course, they'd only been that way because he was a young boy, and ignorant to the world around him and the problems in his home. Tomorrow was an early morning for the rest of his brothers, so they'd begun to turn in for the night. Tiny, keenly aware that Slash probably wasn't getting as much sleep as usual because of his new roommate, had offered to keep taking the early shift. Fresh B & B wouldn't open itself, after all. Recognizing it for the hand-up that it was, Slash hadn't declined the offer. He needed the rest. And the time he was getting to spend with Lacey was a godsend. Just the sound of her laugh was almost enough to rejuvenate him, to make him feel like he had a new lease on life, no matter how fleeting that life might be. He was still torn, though. Torn about where the Battleborn were going, this war with the law, and on his relationship with Lacey. He still couldn't afford to lose focus on the club. He'd never be able to forgive himself if he did. The door leading into the clubhouse opened and shut. Slash glanced back, grunted at the newcomer in acknowledgment. “Howdy,” he said. “Evening,” Tiny replied, heaving himself over and grabbing another folded lawn chair that leaned against the clubhouse's exterior wall. “Mind if I join you?” “Free country, brother,” Slash growled, but didn't take his eyes from the sky. They'd talked about Jerry's state of affairs earlier in the day, and about the chances of Big Jim coming home. Everything seemed dark and grim on all fronts, and Mitchell Sherman hadn't exactly painted a pretty or optimistic picture for them. “You holding up alright?” Tiny said as, beer in hand, he unfolded his chair and collapsed into it. “With this whole Jerry thing?” Slash shook his head. “Kills me, man. Us being out here, under the open sky, drinking a beer ...” “While he's sitting in there,” Tiny said, finishing his thought. He took a big swig of beer and smacked his lips. “Yup. Kills me, too. Think he's gonna be safe?”

Slash nodded. “One of the guys got the word out, talking to people. Don't worry.” Tiny grunted in agreement. The unspoken subtext between them was that this needed to stay out of any discussion. The phrase ‘one of the guys’ meant it was in a different compartment, one that wasn't necessarily legal to be in the know on. This, though, was the first time they'd had a chance to really discuss the earlier bail hearing. He'd simply informed the MC about what had happened, not had a full meeting. Unfortunately, he'd made that decision for the worst reason possible: he'd wanted to spend time with his woman. Tiny sucked down some of his brew. “How's the girl?” Slash nodded, took a drink of his own beer. “Good, I guess.” “You're spending a lot of time with her.” “Yep,” Slash said, kicking a piece of gravel away from his boot. “Guess I am.” “You care about her?” Tiny asked in a conversation tone. That was uncharacteristically forward of him, though. Bikers didn't fit all the stereotypes out there. Slash as chef at the Fresh B & B proved that. But the trope about the brotherhood and the guys playing things close to the chest when it came about their relationships, that generally held true. To Slash the question was completely out of the blue. He blinked his eyes and, with a half-smile, shook his head. He looked back up at the stars. “Yeah, I guess. I dunno, though. She burned me real bad, back in the day. Dunno if I can do that again.” “We all get burned,” Tiny said, taking another drink of beer, “every once in a while.” “And for some reason, we all keep playing with fucking matches, don't we?” “Lemme ask you a question. A serious one, now.” “Alright,” Slash said, not sure what he was going to ask. “Shoot.” “How many times you laid your bike out. Five, six times?” “Well,” Slash said, beginning to see his point, “maybe not that much. But, quite a bit, yeah.” “And you got back on that fucking bike every single time, didn't you?” He drained the last of his beer and picked up the next one from beside his chair. “Yep, suppose I did,” he said as he popped the cap off it. “So, lemme ask you this, then,” Tiny said, his words more emphatic. “Why'd you do something so damn stupid, boy?”

He thought about Tiny's words before he replied. Really gave them some consideration. Why had he gotten back up on his bike afterward? What could have possessed him to be so stupid as to do climb back on his hog, even after it had almost put him in the hospital, or damn near killed him. Simple. It was in his blood. He could still remember the first time he'd climbed on a bike, had felt the power virtually at his fingertips, felt the wind in his hair as he raced down the highway. The heat rolling off the exhaust, the sun beating down on his skin and coming up off the pavement as he and the rest of the guys rode under the afternoon sky. He'd felt alive for the first time, had felt as close to complete as he had since high school ... since he'd last seen Lacey. Everything seemed to come together in that moment, like he'd been born to ride a bike. Slash shook his head again. He didn't want to answer, because if he spoke the words they might be real. Especially the part about Lacey. Tiny, like the old codger he was, took the initiative and spoke them for him. “You got back on, man, because you're supposed to get back on. No matter how many times you fall down, you got it in your gut to get back on the damn thing. That's why you're who you are, now.” “So, you're saying I should get back with her?” “That ain't what I'm saying,” Tiny said. “What I'm saying is, if it's in your gut, go for it. Women like that, they don't come around every day. And you sure as hell don't find 'em on the side of the road more than once in a lifetime.” Silently, Slash nodded and took another drink of beer. He settled down deeper into the lawn chair, letting it swallow him up as much as it could, and gazed deeper into the field of stars that splayed out over the night sky. Beside him, Tiny kept drinking his beer in silence. They stayed that way for a little while longer until his second-in-command decided to call it a night. The room was dark when Slash succumbed as well and returned to this dorm where he slipped beneath the cool sheets and pressed himself against Lacey's warm body. It felt like a lover's embrace, this feeling of ease that settled over him as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close against him. “I got tired,” Lacey mumbled, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “It happens,” Slash said and kissed the top of her head. He tried to go sleep, but it didn't come for hours. His thoughts were too heavy with visions of Jerry shivering on a cold bunk, of Big Jim sleeping with one eye open. He had no right to be in the arms of this beautiful woman, stretched out on this comfortable bed. Slash would get them out. Come hell or high water, damnation or the end of days. He'd get his men out of jail, no matter what. That was his silent promise to them, just before exhaustion finally took him and he drifted off into his dark dreams.

Chapter 24 Slash Slash woke to an empty bed. Confused, he patted the cold spot next to him, where Lacey should have been. Wondering where she was, he sat up and looked around the room. Around him, the clubhouse was even more silent than normal. She'd probably gone for a walk, or something. He got up, performed his morning ritual, and pulled on some fresh jeans and a Battleborn emblazoned tee shirt. Ears open, he stalked out of his room and headed out to the rec room. He stopped at end of the hallway and listened. There was a noise, coming from his kitchen. The rest of the clubhouse was silent, though, with most of the guys already gone for the morning shift. He still had an hour or so before he had to be there for the lunch rush. As he made his way across the rec room, and to the door leading to the kitchen, the noises grew louder. Was that Lacey? Cooking for him? He pushed through the door and poked his head inside. The smell of burning bread hit his nose immediately, and the sound of sizzling grease filled his ears. Lacey frantically scraped at a pan with a flat spatula, making scrambled eggs. In the corner, their little toaster had a plume of smoke billowing from the top like the barbarian hordes had just razed it and stolen all their women. At the sound of his entering the room, she spun, a mildly worried look on her face, the flat spatula raised like a deadly weapon. A little startled by her response, Slash froze in his tracks. “Hey!” she squawked in surprise, clearly flustered. “I'm trying to make you breakfast.” “Smells like it,” he said, trying to get past the burnt taste that was filling his nostrils and mouth. “Your toast is burning.” “Shit!” she yelped, almost dropping her flipper as she scrambled over to pull the crisped and blackened bread. He fought the urge down to jump in and save the day. She was trying to cook him breakfast, even if she was ruining all the food in the process. Instead, he just asked, “Need any help?” “No, no,” she said, clearing the smoke from the toaster with a waving dish towel, “I've got it.” He just shrugged and went over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. To her credit, it tasted just fine. He took his coffee black, just like his old man had, and went over to perch himself on the edge of the bar stool. “What am I having for breakfast?” he asked, his voice still drawling with sleep. “Bacon, scrambled eggs, toast,” she said, making a face as she dropped the burnt toast briquettes on a small plate. She went back over and began trying to save the eggs. “Sounds good,” he replied. He could already tell, though, that the eggs were going to be dry little nuggets,

and the bacon was going to be slightly undercooked. But, whatever, he'd forced the guys to eat worse when he'd first been starting out. “How long you been cooking?” “Not very long,” she said, laughing nervously. “I tried to learn once, like you did. But, that didn't go over so well ...” she said. Slash knew “with Wayne” was the unspoken ending to that sentence but he kept his mouth shut and steeled his resolve to eat every last crumb he had. When it came to food, he lived by the Grandma Rule, something a much more famous chef than he had once said. If anyone cooks you food, and they do it with good intent, you eat it and you fucking love it. Food's the gift of life, and you don't just throw it away. When she finally set his plate of overcooked eggs, burnt toast, and floppy bacon in front of him, he just covered the little, pale nuggets in pepper, and the burnt effigy of bread in as much butter and jelly as he could handle. She hovered over him with a wary, nervous look on her face as he choked it all down and contentedly began to chew the bacon for the five minutes it took before he could swallow it. “What'd you think?” she asked, coming around to his side. He belched a little and smiled. “Delicious, honey.” “I thought the eggs were a little overdone,” she said as he put an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. “A little. You just need practice, that's all. I can teach you, if you want.” She shook her head. “I don't think I'll get much better,” she said, looking away. “I've taught bikers how to be chefs, babe,” he said, grinning. “I think I can teach a cute little thing like you.” “You really think so?” she asked. “Yeah,” he assured her, squeezing her tight, “how about we start with dinner tonight?” She nodded. “Yeah,” she said, her voice a little brighter, “I think I'd like that.” “Good,” he said, nodding. He checked the time and let out a low whistle. “I gotta hop in the shower real quick and head out of here. Think you'll be okay alone for the day?” “You've got plenty of books to read,” she said, kissing him on the cheek, “and there's always TV. You'll only be a few hours, right?” “Shouldn't be any more than just a few,” he said, grinning. He reached up, stroked her cheek. She looked back at him with the most adoring eyes he'd ever seen, and something shot into his heart right then. Something he'd never really felt before, something he had no point of reference for. It felt almost the same as when he was out riding on a perfect summer day, the cool wind blowing in his face, the road

stretched out before him. He smiled again, this time even more genuinely. “Want me to hop in there with you,” she asked, touching his chest as she made the suggestion. “Scrub your back?” “No, can't this morning,” he said and laughed, before kissing her softly on the lips. “Tiny's already bending over backwards to cover for me, and I don't think I'd leave on time if I took you up on your offer.” # # # Slash slipped back into the daily dine and grind of the Fresh B & B line like he hadn't missed a shift. Even with their staff shorthanded as it was, and business as busy it could possibly be, the prep went smoothly and the food got out of the kitchen with only minor complications or confusion. In fact, he even had a customer wanting to thank the chef personally. Just towards the end of the shift, Rat, who had been waiting tables for them, came back and got his attention. “Hey man,” he said, a strange quality to his voice, “got a customer out there wants to talk to the chef.” Slash glanced from Rat to Tiny, then back again. “Me?” he asked, sighing. Honestly, he really wanted to finish up his last bit of prep on this dish, but a compliment from a customer was still a compliment. You didn't want to snub someone who might leave a shitty review on some website out there. “Sure,” Slash said, nodding as he wiped his hands clean on a kitchen towel, “lead the way.” Together, the two men walked out to the front of the restaurant. Slash looked around the small eatery. “Over there,” Rat pointed. “That guy.” Slash's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched tighter than a bear trap. His chest tightened and his heart began thumping double time. Seated at the corner table, all by himself, was Wayne Walker. With a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of Slash's tomato bisque soup sitting right in front of him. In the Battleborn MC's restaurant of all places. His hair was as perfect as the day before, his charcoal gray spotless and well-pressed. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world. Slash stalked over to him, his fists clenched, simultaneously thankful and pissed that he hadn't brought a chef's knife with him. He'd love nothing more than to slit the motherfucker's throat and drop him face first in that bowl of tomato bisque, to see his heart's blood pump out with each dying breath into the reddishorange tomato soup as he slowly gurgled to death in front of God and everyone. But, that wouldn't help anything. No, it'd just set Slash up for a one-way ticket to the gas chamber. “Hello Wayne,” he growled as he approached the table. “Oh, are you the chef today, Dustin?” Wayne asked, feigning surprise. “I had no idea! It was great seeing you at the courthouse yesterday, by the way. Sorry I couldn't stay to chat, had a long list of meetings.” “What do you want here?” Slash growled through gritted teeth, his fists squeezing so hard his knuckles popped.

“Just getting my favorite, a grilled cheese with some tomato soup. You guys really do an excellent one here, you know? Par excellence, if you ask me.” “Thought you hated grilled cheese and tomato soup,” Slash said, but quickly regretted his words. That was something Lacey had confided him just recently. “Oh? Is that what Lacey told you?” Wayne asked, laughing. He picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth clean with it. “No, no, I get it every chance I can when I'm out to eat alone. It was one of the only things she could cook without fucking up, so I made a rule about never having the stuff for it in the house. Had to keep her on her toes so she wouldn't get too comfortable, you know?” No, he didn't know. Slash shook his head. What kind of sick fucker had this man turned into? He stayed silent, just put his hands on the back of the chair that sat across from Wayne. “And, don't worry,” Wayne said, leaning forward conspiratorially. He put up one hand, pretending to shield his words from anyone who might be watching. “I know you've got her, Dustin, hiding out in your little clubhouse,” he whispered and gave an exaggerated wink. Slash squeezed the chair so hard he was almost worried it would begin to splinter. “It's so adorable you think your brotherhood, or whatever, can keep her from me, Dustin. Your little gang, you're all so cute.” Rat and one of the other waiters stepped up beside Slash, their arms crossed as they leveled their gaze on the assistant DA. “Oh,” Wayne said, that fake mirth still in his voice, “great job today. Really knocked it out of the park, considering how shorthanded you were today. What's his name, Big Jim? He not show up for work today? Oh, that's right! Word around the water cooler was that he hit a spot of legal trouble and had the cops cart him out of here.” Slash growled, deep in his chest, vibrating the chair. “Get. Out.” “Really, Dustin?” Wayne asked with a grin, flashing those perfect teeth of his. “Don't be that way,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “It's been so long since we had a nice chat. Since school, I think.” “Out,” Slash said again, this time louder. “And never come back here again.” The clinking of forks and scraping of knives stopped behind him, as they were merely a water faucet that someone had turned off. Slash could feel the eyes in the small restaurant all turn to him and land squarely on his back. Wayne gave him a gratified self-congratulatory grin as he pushed his chair back from the table. The legs scraping across the tiled floor might as well have been rictus fingers tearing over a gravestone it was so ominous. He stood and straightened his tie as if getting thrown out of diners or antagonizing biker gangs was something he did on a daily basis. Slash realized that the second part was actually true. Eyes still on Slash, Wayne reached into his pocket,

grabbed a fat money clip, and began to thumb twenties off on to the tabletop. He left a small stack and walked around the table toward the three men. He stopped next to Slash and said, in a low voice, “How's that leg, by the way? Heal up just fine?” It took every ounce of Slash's dwindling self-control to keep down his darker bloodier urges. He could have easily reached out and crushed Wayne's windpipe and ended things. Lacey would no longer live in fear, the Battleborn would go on without him, and he'd just spend the rest of his life in prison. Everyone would be safe. Everyone else would be fine. Instead, he bit his tongue and kept his hands gripping into the back of that poor, abused chair. “Well, anyways,” Wayne said, leaning in closer, “just remember, my cock was there first.” The other two men were faster than Slash, or at least more prepared. They grabbed their president by the shoulders, arms, and waist as he lunged with a roar for the smug-faced piece of shit. Rat even caught his fist before it connected with Wayne’s rich pretty-boy face. Wayne didn't flinch as the two men held Slash back. He didn't budge, not one bit. “Tell my little whore,” he said as he reached up and patted Slash's cheek with fake affection, “that Daddy'll be seeing her soon.” Then, he turned and left, disappearing out the diner's front door as he began to whistle “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” Slash struggled against them one more time. “Don't go after him, prez,” Rat whispered from behind him, his grip like steel around Slash's beefy arm. “Not worth it, brother,” murmured the other guy as Wayne got in his white BMW. “Let go of me,” Slash growled back, shaking off their restraining hands. “I'm fine.” They released him as Wayne Walker backed out and drove away with a happy wave. “I'm fine,” he repeated again, then exhaled swiftly. But he was anything but fine. He could feel the blood pounding in his temples, the anger coursing through his body like a live wire. All the eyes of the patrons, wary and cautious, were on him. He should have done it, he should have killed him. Just broken his fucking neck, right there in the middle of the diner. “It'll be okay,” Rat said, reassuring Slash as best he could. “We got this, brother.” “Yeah,” said the other guy. “It's cool, alright?” Slash nodded to them both and, with another grumble, headed back into the kitchen. The eyes followed him as he left, as worries about Lacey being alone for the day filled his mind. Worries about Wayne knowing where she was, and her being left unprotected all day. He burst back into the kitchen. “Tiny,” he said to his second-in-command, “need your help.” “What's up?” Tiny asked as he turned from the line.

“Need you to go check on Lacey.” “Things alright?” Tiny asked as Slash crossed to him. Slash shook his head. He told him about his encounter just then. “Wayne knows we have her,” he said, his voice low. “Just go stay with her, okay? But don't let her know that piece of shit found her. Alright?” Tiny nodded. “Sure, buddy. I'll take care of her like she was my own. But, dude, you really should tell her.” “We'll tell her, alright? But I wanna be the one to do it.” Slash clapped him on the shoulder, squeezed his arm. “You're a good man, Tiny. Best friend I ever had.” Tiny grinned. “You too, son. The best.”

Chapter 25 Lacey “Uno!” Lacey shouted and pointed. Tiny slapped his hand of cards down hard, frustrated. “Goddammit, girl! I was almost there, too!” They'd been playing different games for the last two or three hours, ever since Tiny had gotten back from the restaurant. He seemed particularly keen on keeping her interested in staying with him, always suggesting a new card game or a game of pool as soon as they were finished with the current one. “It's ‘cause you're tired, Tiny,” Lacey said, laughing. “You're losing focus, and not keeping your eyes on the prize. Why don't you go take a nap or something?” “Nah,” he said, shaking his head vigorously, maybe trying to get some more blood flowing the old noggin'. “I'm fine, I'm fine. Just a little rusty is all,” he assured as he began to draw two new cards. He swore under his breath as each one entered his hand. “Well, you look exhausted,” Lacey said, slapping down another card from her hand. “Want some coffee?” “Maybe in a little while,” he said. “First, I gotta whip your little butt.” He normally took a nap whenever he got home the restaurant, she'd noticed, and always loudly announced his intentions. This afternoon, though, was different. First, he'd come home early, and alone. Now, he was stuck to her like a clingy boyfriend. Yes, something definitely seemed off. “So, how was work?” she asked. “Fine,” Tiny said gruffly as checked his hand. He cursed and drew another card. “Nothing out of the ordinary, then?” “No,” he said, “not really.” “You guys busy?” “Yeah, had a packed house. Business was picking up.” “Huh,” she said, slapping down a draw 4 card. “Uno,” she said. Tiny cursed loudly, his eyes like steel as he tried to stare her down. “Goddammit.” “So, if you guys were so busy,” she asked, unflappable, as he drew his cards, “why'd you come home so early? Doesn't Slash need you in the kitchen, since you're short-handed?”

He pursed his lips together and made a clucking noise out of the corner of his mouth. He didn't say anything, just kept his eyes fixated on his hand. Tiny was probably an awful poker player, she realized. “Something happened, didn't it?” she asked, her voice more insistent this time. “Look,” he said, laying down a card on top of the pile, “Slash told me not to tell you. So, I can't, okay? He's my president, I gotta listen to him.” What was she? A mushroom? Something to just keep in the dark and feed shit to? She growled and tossed her cards down. “Oh, come on, Lacey,” Tiny said, “he's only trying to keep you safe and make sure you don't worry, that's all.” Why were the men in her life always keeping things from her, or trying to control her? Outside, the sound of a whole pack of bikes filled the air as the rest of the Fresh B & B staff came riding home. They roared to a halt in the parking lot and, one by one, the engines began to turn off, so the symphony of thunderous motors seemed to fade slowly away. “Well,” she said, giving Tiny a narrow-eyed, angry look, “I guess I'll just have to ask the president himself, won't I?” “Look,” he said, “I wanted to tell you right away, but he said I should wait for him.” She exhaled with frustration and rolled her eyes. She tossed her last card on the pile. “I'm out,” she said, her voice sounding almost as dejected as she felt. Tiny looked like he was about to crumple his remaining cards in his hand. He slapped them down on the table, face down, cursing the whole while. “Sorry,” Lacey said as she crossed her arms, “Granny Cox loved her card games.” “Yeah, yeah,” Tiny said, “I'm sure she was a sweet ol' lady.” “Nah,” she said, “she was a real bitch, never let any of the grandkids win.” “Look,” Tiny said in a lowered voice as he began to jog the cards together and straighten them, “don't hold it against him when he gets in here. He has good reason for doing what he did.” Lacey sighed. “Fine.” Soon the door flew open and all the men were bustling in. Most of them collapsed down in the rec room, bringing the decibel level up to a dull roar, while a couple of the guys made a bee line for the kitchen and the ice-cold beer stored there.

Slash brought up the rear, his face downcast and torn. “Hey babe,” he said, his voice matching his visage. “We need to talk.” She was still a little pissed that he'd instructed Tiny to hide something from her, even though she didn't know exactly what it was. “You don't say,” Lacey said. The president of the Battleborn shot a look to his second-in-command. Tiny raised his hands in a ‘don't shoot’ gesture. “I didn't tell her nothing.” “He didn't,” Lacey confirmed, feeling a little bad for the older man, but still pissed. “Come on,” Slash said, his voice emotionless, “we'll talk in my bunk.” She slowly pushed back from the table and got up. She followed after him, her feet light on the floor as he clomped and stomped through the clubhouse. They got to his bunk and he held the door open for her. She stepped past him and he closed the door after her. “So, what happened?” she asked as she sat down on the edge of the bed and folded her hands in her lap. “Wayne showed up at the Fresh B & B,” Slash said as soon as the door was shut. His eyes were searching around the room, and his brain was clearly working double-time. “He, uh, knows where you are.” A cold fear gripped her immediately. The bottom of the world seemed to fall out, like the little piece of sanity she'd lucked into, was all just an illusion that was about to be brushed by her ex-fiancée. She felt the blood leave her face, her palms go clammy, as she thought of all the torment he'd put her through. As she remembered the pain and humiliation he'd caused her, inflicted on her. “But,” he said, sitting down next to her and putting an arm around her shoulder, “we're going to protect you, okay? We're going to find a way to keep you safe. You have my word.” She nodded silently, trying to believe Slash, to really listen to his words and internalize them. The Battleborn had managed to defend her so far, hadn't they? She nodded again. Yes, they could keep doing it. “And, if it really comes down to it,” Slash said, rubbing her shoulders, “we'll get you out of here, okay? You and me, I promise. But first I'm going to make sure he pays for what he did to you, babe. He'll never have you again, alright?” She nodded again, trying to fight back the tears. Her eyes were already watering, and her shoulders were already shaking. She turned to Slash and smothered her face against his chest, and he pulled her against him as she began to cry. “I should just leave,” she sobbed out. “I'm bringing this all upon you guys. You and Tiny and the others, you don't deserve this.” He stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head. “Go where?” he asked. “Your parents can't protect you, babe. Your father's a good man, but he can't do anything but call the cops.” “Then what?” Lacey sobbed. “What should I do?”

“Stay with us,” Slash replied. “Simple as that.” Lacey tried to wipe away her tears as she nodded. “This just doesn't seem fair to any of you guys.” “Life ain't fair, babe,” Slash said. “And no one's ever claimed otherwise.” # # # For dinner that night, Slash requested a grilled cheese and with tomato soup. He insisted, though, that she make him one. “Oh, come on,” she said, rolling her eyes, “you had my eggs this morning. You know you're a way better cook than me.” “Well, yeah. But, I've had more practice than you. Besides, I want to see what you can do with one.” She laughed. It had been a while since she'd made one, years since Wayne had decided one day out of the blue that he didn't like them anymore, but she felt like she might be up to the task. Of course, it wouldn't be as amazing as the ones Slash had been making for her. “I don't care how amazing it is,” he said. “I just want you to make me one.” He stayed with her in the kitchen while she cooked, helping out with little manly things like opening the jar of tomato bisque or reaching utensils and dishes that were high up on a shelf. Other than, he stayed out of her way. She could tell it was a trial for him, too, to not offer guidance on everything. When she was finished, she set the cooked and halved sandwich down in front of him with a flourish. His eyes widened in surprise. “It looks delicious,” he said with a grin as he picked it up and took his first bite. His eyes closed as he chewed contentedly. She knew that somewhere, deep down inside her, she needed him to like it. Not because he was a man, or because she was sharing his bed. She needed to feel accomplished, needed to feel like she could be her own person. “Well?” she asked expectantly as she wiped her hands clean on a dish towel, her eyes fixated on the slow, chewing motion of his mouth. He nodded as he gave a slow and steady thumbs up. “Excellent,” he said around a mouthful of grilled cheese. Something welled up inside her chest. Whatever it was, it felt like a new, unfamiliar emotion. An emotion she hadn't experienced in so long, that it felt completely foreign to her. Like it was from someone else, someone who'd had a better, easier life than she had. As she watched Slash tear into the sandwich, she slowly began to realize what the feeling was. It had been gone so long from her life that she'd nearly forgotten. Pride, a sense of accomplishment. A tiny piece of self-satisfaction she'd been denied for years and years by Wayne. She grinned wider than she thought possible. Slash leveled those steely eyes on her, a slow smile creeping up at the corners of his lips. He

saw it, too, this new sense of success. When she'd cooked for him this morning, this feeling hadn't come. This time it filled her to the brim as she watched his reaction with each bite. Maybe, it was because this time, she could tell he wasn't just faking it. Whatever the reason, she liked it. And she wanted more. # # # That night, as she was about to crawl into bed, Slash sat down on the edge of his side and reached into the top drawer of the nightstand. “What are you doing?” she asked as he pulled something heavy and metal out of the nightstand. “Being prepared,” was all he said. She looked over his shoulder, and her breath caught in her throat. In his hands, he held a pistol, a big cruel-looking piece of sleek engineering, all oiled and shiny. “I don't know-” she started to say, feeling suddenly nervous. “It's just for our safety,” he said, cutting her off in a brusque tone as he slapped a magazine into the bottom of the gun. She didn't like guns. Never had, never would. Her father had never kept them around the house, either for hunting or self-defense. “Does it ... does it really have to be loaded?” she asked as he flicked the safety and slid it back into the nightstand. He turned and looked back over his shoulder, with an incredulous look. “Doesn't do much good if it ain't.” Still standing, she wrung her hands a little. “I'm just not comfortable about them, that's all.” “Well, I'm not asking you to use it, am I?” “This is just feeling a little too real, all of a sudden, that's all.” “Well, unfortunately, it is real,” Slash replied, shutting the nightstand drawer and getting up from the bed. “Look, I don't keep them around because I like them, babe. I keep them around because sometimes they're necessary.” She wanted to ask him what kind of life he had led that guns were considered necessary. She already knew the answer to a silly question like that. She sighed as she just crawled into bed and kept her thoughts to herself. “I just ...” he began, but trailed off as he switched off the overhead light. “I need to protect you. I made a promise to you. If you don't feel comfortable with it in the room, I'll have to sleep outside in the rec

room.” She shook her head as she pulled the sheets and covers up over herself. “No, it's fine. I'll get past it, tonight. Hopefully, this'll all be over soon.” “Right,” he said as he went back around to his side and got back in bed. “Eventually, this will all be sorted. But, in the meantime, I'm still going to have to do some things you don't like.” She sighed and nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I know. I just wish it didn't have to do with guns.” “Well, you can wish in one hand and shit in the other ...” She frowned a little. “Yeah, I know,” she said, not needing to hear the whole thing. He snaked an arm around her and pulled her close against his body, against his warmth and strength. Quiet confidence came off of him, seemed to permeate the air. This was a man who knew that the future was going to be rocky, but that he'd make it through to the other side. She hoped that, somehow, maybe through osmosis, she'd somehow absorb some of that strength and confidence from him. She bit her lip, and nuzzled into his shoulder. At the very least, she knew, she could share in one thing he possessed. His warmth.

Chapter 26 Slash “Woah, Tiny,” Slash said into the phone in as even and steady a voice as he could get, “slow down, brother. Tell me exactly what's gone.” His second-in-command didn't listen to his request. “They're all gone,” Tiny yelled. “Gone, dude!” Slash was still seated on the edge of the bed, wearing just his boxer-briefs. Through his sleep-induced fog, he couldn't make sense of what Tiny was saying. “What's gone?” he asked. “Not what, dude!” Tiny yelled. “Who!” “Who? What the fuck?” “They took them all, dude! Cops came in with the health department a little while ago, wouldn't let me call you. They started arresting all the guys. Everyone that was here, man, they arrested and carted away!” Slash ran a hand down his face. This wasn't good. Without the crew, they didn't have a restaurant. And without the restaurant, they wouldn’t have the money to bail the guys out. This was the beginning of a vicious downward spiral, one that would suck down all of them, including Lacey. “Fuck!” “Fuck is right, man! We got breakfast in less than an hour, Slash, and I don't know what the fuck we're gonna do. We got you, me, and Rat, since he's just in for lunch. We'll be lucky to get this place cleaned up, as is, but with just two cooks and a server? Ain't no way, man!” Slash shook his head. He didn't know, either. What could they do? They had everyone. They were lost. “So what do you want me to do, prez?” Tiny asked. Slash sighed, shook his head again. “Just shut it down, I guess. Put a sign up, apologizing to the customers.” Tiny sighed into his ear, a hard edge to his voice. He didn't like to admit defeat any more than Slash did, but sometimes you had to make a tactical retreat in the face of overwhelming odds. Five people, they'd be fine. Four, maybe they could pull it off. But three? No way. “Shit,” Tiny said. “You're probably right. Alright, man.” “Just ... I'll be there in a bit, okay? We'll help you clean up and deal with any customers that wander up wondering what's going on.” “Got it,” Tiny replied in a dejected voice. “See you in a bit.”

Slash sighed again and hung up the phone. He tossed it on the bed next to him, his mind whirling with emotions and thoughts. Health department and cops? This had Wayne written all over it. So, now he had no men, no restaurant, and no way to make a legit living. He should have just killed the motherfucker when he had the chance the day before. He'd been so close. He could have just reached out, done the deed, been done with it. This was how the end must feel, he thought. He leaned his head forward and dropped it into his hands as he felt an ominous cloud of despair begin to descend upon him. It was thick, black, and oily as it came closer and closer. Maybe it was time to run. Maybe it was time to just cut his losses, divvy up the funds, and call the Battleborn done and over with. He and Tiny could take Lacey with them, ride out west, find another place to open shop. But, what would that accomplish? Wayne would just come for them there, no matter how long it took. And his brothers would still be locked up. What else could he do, though? He didn't have any options left. He didn't have any cards left to play, no tricks up his sleeve. He was just a man, after all. The bed shifted as Lacey sat up and pressed herself against his naked back. “Morning,” she said. “What's going on?” He sighed and turned around. “Cops raided the diner, took everyone but Tiny in.” “Oh no,” Lacey said, putting her hand to her mouth. “What are we going to do?” He winced. “Seriously considering closing everything up.” She made a face, one of hurt, like he'd just killed her first puppy. She shook her head. “You can't do that.” “Well, what can I do, babe? We can't run a restaurant without people. He's got us over a barrel. It's just me, Tiny, and Rat, and three people ain't enough to run a diner. And no diner means no money.” “You got me,” she offered, an innocent, beatific smile on her lips. “I waited tables back in college for some extra spending money.” “You did?” he asked, the wheels already beginning to turn. But, then they stopped, and he shook his head. “But, what about Wayne?” “What about him? Sounds like he's already fucking up your world, like he said he would. If you leave, what will that accomplish?” “Here,” Slash said, “I can at least keep an eye on you, keep you protected.” Her eyes flashed. “So, the solution is still to keep me here in a cage? All I did was leave one, just so I could be locked up in another?” He shook his head, sighing. “No, babe. I just want to keep you safe, that's all.” “Look,” she said, “the only way for me to be safe is for Wayne to be gone. Right now, he's untouchable, right?”

He groaned in dismay. She was right. He was damn near untouchable. And as long as Wayne was the assistant DA, he'd stay that way. Nothing Slash could do would set them on an offensive foot. “What you need to do is put him off his game,” Lacey said. “You need to piss him off.” “And, how do we do that?” “Easy,” she said with a smile. “Pretend like it doesn't matter, pretend like he isn't get to you. He just gets more and more pissed, until he loses control and flips.” Slash thought about her recommendation. Actually, looking back at his friendship with Wayne, that was a good plan. Wayne had always been a sore loser and a bully. Back then, it hadn't been as noticeable, but little warning signs had been there. “So?” Lacey asked, still smiling as she watched the gears grinding in Slash's head. Slash smiled. “Yeah,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her. “I think you're right.” “Finally,” she said, kissing him for one, long moment. “I'm getting the credit I deserve.”

Chapter 27 Lacey Lacey took a shower and got ready as fast as she could. While she did, Slash called Tiny and told him the plan, called the Battleborn's lawyer, and went to rouse Rat from bed. She pulled on fresh clothes, put on the little bit of makeup Cheryl had managed to snag her, and was ready faster than she'd ever gotten ready for anything in her life. While Rat was drying off, she and Slash bolted out the front door and hopped on his chopper. They roared out of the clubhouse parking lot, put rubber to asphalt, and took off down the highway. “Here we go,” Tiny said, about half an hour later, as he showed them what was left of the kitchen. “We can work with this,” Slash said, that same old, familiar grit in his voice that Lacey had grown to admire so much. The restaurant was in as much, if not worse, disarray than Tiny had painted with his words. If a bomb had gone off in there, it would have been an improvement. The walk-in refrigeration was tossed, with veggies everywhere. None of the sauces or prep were ready. Tiny had done his best but sometimes your best just wasn't good enough. Rat arrived a few minutes after Slash and her, and they put him to work cleaning the dining area. He began to take chairs down from the tables and started the monotonous job of rolling software. Which was fine by Lacey. She'd always hated side-work when she was waiting tables. “Okay,” Slash said just before he began sweeping out the inside of the walk-in, “here's what we're gonna do. First thing, we keep the restaurant closed through breakfast. Lacey, I'm gonna be sexist here and say you probably got the nicest handwriting of all of us, so you write the sign. Tell 'em we'll reopen at lunch and apologize for the inconvenience” “Got it,” Lacey said. “Tiny,” Slash said, turning and gesturing to his second-in-command with the broom he clutched in both hands, “need you to go through the food we got, everything that's fresh and manageable.” “'Kay,” Tiny said, nodding. “You and I, we're gonna put together a list of dishes we can make, and make fast.” “Limited menu, then?” Tiny asked. Slash nodded. “Very. I think I see some soups left over from yesterday, so we'll put those on the menu as we find 'em.” “Got it,” Tiny said.

“Lacey, you ever done any chalk board writing?” “Not since kindergarten,” she replied, grinning. “Well, then you better learn to get in touch with your inner five-year-old. Need you to wash the daily specials board above the counter so we can put the menu up there.” “Once we know it,” Lacey clarified. “Right,” he said, “once we know it. Come back here after the sign, and you can help Tiny with the sorting. Rat should be able to handle the dining area by himself.” With their marching orders, the three of them separated and went about their tasks. They had a deadline to meet. # # # The next several hours passed in a flash. Before Lacey knew it, she was watching as Tiny and Slash pulled together a bare bones, limited menu that had as much variety as their meager ingredients could afford. After she'd assembled the menu from the two men, Rat helped her get the chalkboard down, and they set to work getting the day's options written out. “Perfect,” Rat said, grinning from ear to ear, wide enough for his missing molars to be on display. “Looks really nice, Lacey. Real nice, indeed.” “Thanks,” Lacey said, blushing a little as she swept a wild lock of hair back behind her ear. “Can you read it alright?” “Just fine,” he said, checking the time, “can read it just fine. Almost opening time. You think the bosses are ready?” She nodded as her eyes glanced towards the clock on the wall. “If they're not, they better be soon.” She tapped her foot. She was impatient, but she also felt something else ... On one hand, she was ready to get this over with. She knew it was going to be bad. Up to this point, the entire morning had already sucked. She'd woken up early to the sounds of a frayed and edgy Tiny on the phone and a defeated Slash in bed. Then, when they'd decided to try and do something about Wayne's shenanigans, she'd had to rush through getting ready. She'd worked with the guys for the last three hours, desperately trying to get the restaurant back into a somewhat presentable shape. On the other, she realized she was actually a little excited for the shift ahead. This would be the first time she'd really worked a job since college, since Wayne had limited what she was allowed to do. The prospect of working at the Fresh B & B, even just for one shift, may have frightened her a little, but it also made her feel a little valuable. Like she was going to get to be part of something bigger than herself. “Lacey, babe,” Slash roared from the back of house, “last check. Come on, girl!” She went scurrying around the front counter and headed in back. The kitchen was back to being a spotless

as the Battleborn clubhouse's. Slash and Tiny were standing in front of the prep table with Rat, and the smell of sauces and soups filled the air. “Alright, guys,” Slash said, his eyes traveling around the group, “ain't gonna lie. Next three or four hours are gonna be brutal. I know it, you know it. But, we ain't got much choice, do we?” Both men nodded silently in agreement with him. “Only way we're gonna get our boys out is by standing up for ourselves, and keeping this cash flowing in. Ain't that right?” “Right,” they both said. Slash's eyes wandered away from the men and settled on her. “And someone reminded that this asshole can't stand it when people don't just give up and give in. Ain't that right?” She felt herself blush. She gave him a tight smile and nodded back. “What're we gonna do then?” Rat asked. “Stand our ground,” Tiny said, nodding fiercely. “Damn straight, Tiny. We're gonna serve as many customers as we can. They wanna know what's going on, you tell 'em we had a refrigeration malfunction, so we're on limited menu. Got it, babe?” “Got it,” she said, nodding again. There was a knock, outside on the front door. Rat broke away from the little pow-wow and went up to the dining area. “We'll keep a tab on what's running low, and what's run out,” Slash said to Lacey, not breaking stride in his pep-talk. “You got any problems with complainers, you send 'em to Tiny to deal with.” Beside him, Tiny narrowed his eyes and gestured pounding a fist into the palm of his hand. “Really?” Lacey asked, suddenly unsure of all this. What the hell had she gotten herself into? “Is he gonna beat them up or something?” “Nah,” Tiny said, laughing, “I'm just messing with you. I got some gift certificates already written up back here.” Relief flooded Lacey. “Tiny,” she chided. “Let's focus, here.” “Hey guys!” Rat called as he came pushing in through the double doors from the dining area. “Hate to break up this love fest, but we got customers stacking up outside. And they look hungry enough to eat a road hog with no ketchup.” “Then let 'em on in,” Slash said. “Let's get this shit-show started!” # # #

Lunch was over and done with before Lacey could even think to blink or even sit down. She hadn't even had a chance to really check the time until the constant flow of customers began to taper off a little bit, down to a more manageable level. Her waiting skills had kicked in after the fourth or fifth customer, and she hadn't had many mishaps during the shift. She switched up a couple orders at a table, but nothing too serious. But, still, the last time she'd done this job she'd been a little younger, a little faster, and was definitely more used to being on her feet for long stretches of time. Now, as she sat at one of the tables with Rat, massaging a foot through her sock, she recalled just how painful that waitress job had really been. Somehow, she must have repressed those memories. “You handled everything real nice, girl,” Rat said from across the table. He was kicked back, his feet up on one of the adjacent chairs. “Real nice job today.” “Thanks,” Lacey said, grinning despite her pain. Eventually, though, she couldn't hold it back anymore and winced a little. “Foot pain don't ever go away, neither,” he said, grinning. “Just gets worse and worse.” She laughed, more from delirious exhaustion than anything else. He clapped his hands together, almost like he'd just remembered something he'd been forgetting. “Well, guess we better start getting everything put away,” he said. She nodded and put her shoes back on. She got up and, together, the two of them put up all the chairs and swept the dining area. In the back of house, she could hear Tiny and Slash groaning through their own cleanup duties. Their dishwasher was out with a bad case of jail, same as everyone else, and there was literally a restaurant's worth of dishes that needed to be cleaned still before they all went home for the night. After Rat and she were done with the dining area, they headed in back to help with everything. All through it, Lacey marveled at how, even though she was bone-deep weary, and about to collapse on her feet, she still felt accomplished. Like she and the rest of the guys had pulled together like a team. Sure, it wasn't climbing Mount Everest or anything, but it was still more than she'd done lately. And, to her at least, it mattered. A couple hours later, this time with more laughing and horsing around than before, and they were all standing around staring at a perfectly clean kitchen. Sure, they were finished a couple hours later than they normally would have been, but given the circumstances it was a win. “Alright,” Tiny said, stumbling a little. “That's it for me.” “Yup, yup, yup,” Rat agreed. “I don't wanna see another dirty dish long as I live.” “Maybe now you'll be more appreciative of Slim's work,” Slash said with a chuckle. Slim was their dishwasher. Rat put his hand over his heart. “I ain't ever gonna say shit about how Slim does his job, I fucking promise

on my granny's grave.” “Believe it when I see it,” Tiny grumbled, but with a knowing grin on his face. “You guys get on outta here,” Slash said, waving them both off, “We'll lock up and see you at the clubhouse in a bit.” “Ain't gonna argue with that,” Tiny said, sounding winded and beat half to death. He immediately turned to the front door and pushed through. “See y'all in a bit,” he said back over his shoulder. “Yup,” Rat said, seconding his sentiments as he followed right on Tiny's heels. “We'll have a cold one for y'all. Promise.” After both men had left, Slash turned to her. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes, but she could see something else, something that resided even deeper. “I wanted to thank you,” Slash said, after a while, his voice low and smooth. He took a step or two, coming closer to her. There had been something about the way they'd worked together. He'd known what order she was about to put in before she'd even mentioned them. He'd have a table's food ready just when she needed the most. And, somehow, she'd known exactly when he was about to tell her something was low or running out. It was like they were in the same head-space during their shift, like they were working from the same consciousness. It had been almost magical. And, she could almost feel it now, that same sense of connection from when they'd been turning tables together. “For what?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. “Not letting me give in, for one,” he said, taking another step closer to her. “And, second, for your help.” That connection was greater than just mind reading, though. She could tell from the way his hips were, how he held his hands, and cocked his head that he had a special way to thank her. “Yeah?” she asked, taking a step closer to him. “Yeah,” he agreed, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her close. She didn't resist. His arms were like steel cords, despite his exhaustion, and she felt safe and under his power at the same time. She gazed up at him, her lips parted. She'd never wanted a man as badly as she wanted Slash in that moment. He reached up, brushed hair out of her eyes, and trailed a fingertip down her cheek. She licked her lips as he made her wait. She just wanted to feel his mouth on hers, to feel his hands on her body. “Thank you,” he said again, lowering his lips to hers. She groaned as his lips crushed hers, as he pulled her into his body. She felt light as a feather in his arms. She knew she could collapse right then, and he'd have more than enough strength for both of them. As they kissed, she could feel him beginning to harden against her belly. She wanted him to show her just how thankful he was, and do it in the most pleasurable way possible.

He opened his mouth a little, ran his tongue over her lips as his hands went lower and grabbed her tight jeans-clad butt. She opened her mouth, inviting him in. He didn't need much of an invitation, though. They kissed like that, in the kitchen, their hands roaming over each other's bodies. His lips broke away from hers and traveled down her neck as he began to tug at the hem of her shirt. Finally, good sense began to take hold of her, no matter how badly she wanted this. “Slash,” she said as he began to pull her top over her head, “we can't do this here. What if someone walks in?” “Who's gonna walk in?” he growled. “I'm the owner, remember?” She giggled as he pulled her shirt up over her head with one hand and began to unsnap her jeans with the other. “Slash!” she squealed again. “What?” he asked, his rough paw of a hand finding her crotch. Pleasure radiated through her body, and her knees went weak as she let loose a little moan. She wobbled a little, but Slash's hand kept her standing as she leaned a hip up against the central prep table. “Like that?” he asked as he continued to stroke the front of her jeans, and the fires raging inside her. He ran his callused hands over her body, massaging and kneading her bare skin. “God yes,” she purred back, pressing herself into his hand as she put an arm around him. With her free hand, she reached down and unzipped the front of her jeans. He kissed her again as his hand slipped down the front of her panties, finding her sensitive little clit. She moaned as she sucked his tongue into her mouth and thrust her hips into his expert fingers. She wanted to feel him inside her, wanted to feel his hardness filling her. She reached down and stroked him through the front of his loose-fitting chef pants, stroking him lightly. He growled low in his throat as began to tug her pants down the swell of her hips. She'd never wanted to be out jeans so badly in her life. She kicked off her shoes and wiggled and shimmied, helping him to get her out of the confining denim. Together they worked them off her as he continued to cover her body in burning hot kisses, his teeth nipping at her skin. Soon, her jeans were pooled at her ankles, and she kicked them off from around her feet. “How do you want it?” he asked, that throaty growl filling her ears as his hands traveled over her nearly naked body. She reached down, stroked him with her small, delicate hand, then turned and bent over the prep counter, putting herself in the air. He dropped down behind her, and she could feel of his hot breath coming from behind. She spread her legs for him, widening her stance. The metal was cold, icy against her skin. She felt so deliciously wrong doing this here, of all places. More hot breath as his hand began to travel slowly up the inside of her thigh. She could feel herself getting wetter by the second, even without him doing anything. She moaned softly as she felt his breath on her sensitive lips. He began to slowly lick her, parting her folds with his tongue. She pushed back as she leaned forward, moaning as ecstasy began to slowly creep through her body. She could feel his tongue slip inside her, could feel it as it began to trace her lips and travel up to her starved-for-attention clit. He began to slowly,

deliberately tickle the spot just below her clit, just off-center, with the tip of his tongue. Her whole body tensed and shook as pleasure erupted inside her. It was like liquid heat, running through her veins, threatening to pour out of her body, as he deftly began to bring her to her first orgasm. He slid a finger just inside her and found her g-spot. She erupted, then. “Oh, Slash,” she cried, pushing herself back onto his hand and mouth, “oh, right there.” She nearly squealed as she felt her orgasm build inside her. Her body shook almost uncontrollably. He kept licking and kept rubbing her, not changing his movements or speed one bit. She felt her abs contracts, felt her body quake, as she came on his hand and tongue. She cried out, pushing back into him. He released her from her pleasurable torment, then, and slid his body up the backside of hers. Rough cotton, work-hardened muscle, and firm hands slid over her naked body. She went to move, to turn around to kiss him, but he put a hand gently, firmly, on her back. She sucked in a sharp, gasping breath and stayed where she was, not needing his words to tell her what he intended to do. Still bent over the table, with her ass stuck out to him, she heard his pants drop to the floor. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down her slit, parting her lips as he traced it up and down them. Nearly panting with excitement, she bit her lower lip and held back the urge to just backwards onto his manhood, to impale herself on his hardness. God, she wanted to, she wanted to so badly. He ran a hand over her ass, rubbed it teasingly, squeezed, and ran it up over her lower back until he landed on the latch of her bra. She looked back over her shoulder. “You just gonna play with me?” “Not quite,” he said as he reached up and unsnapped her bra. His hand traveled down beneath, ran up and over her flat stomach till it reached a pendulous breast. He lightly tweaked her sensitive nipple and rubbed his palm over the sensitive nub. “Slash,” she groaned as she pushed her breast into his hand, filling it with her flesh. She pushed backwards, trying to slide onto him. At this point, and with how much he'd been teasing her, just the tip would be more than enough. His hand left trails of fire behind it as he crisscrossed her body, teasing her till she was practically begging for him to be inside her. He heard her pleas, though, and grabbed hold of her hips. He reached down between them and guided himself to her slick opening. She bit her lower lip, her breath coming hard and fast as her body anticipated what would come next. She needed this, needed it so badly. He pushed forward with his hips as he pulled her backwards onto his hard length. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she arched her back until her hands came up from where they'd been planted on the table and her bra slipped to the floor. “Do you like that?” he growled, his hand coming around to cup a full breast again. She nodded. “Y-y-yes,” she panted out as she felt herself filled with his warm hard length. She pushed back against him, encouraging him to go faster and deeper. She stroked herself up and down his shaft, craving more of his manhood. He pinched her nipple, tweaking it hard again as he pushed her forward, back onto the table.

She planted both hands firmly again as she pushed herself against him, grinding herself on his cock. “Harder,” she plead. “Fuck me like you mean it.” Letting her breast drop, her grabbed both hips and pulled her, slowly at first, back onto his hard cock, stretching her fully. “You're still so tight,” he growled as he bottomed out inside her. “Please, just fuck me deep, Slash!” she groaned. “Make me yours tonight!” He pulled her more roughly off his cock, then slammed her back on. She squawked in surprise as he rammed inside her, but the pleasure she felt filled her mouth and nothing but a dry gasp came out. He savagely pulled her on and off his cock, his hips slamming into hers as she braced against the prep table. “Do you like that?” he asked in that sultry growl of his, his words rising above the sound of their bodies coming together, “Do you love how I feel inside you?” “God yes,” she moaned, her head flung back. She could feel another orgasm, a giant white light of pleasure, tumbling towards her. Her legs were shaking her, body was sweating, and her consciousness seemed like it had been shoved from her body as the impending climax grew and grew inside. She growled like an animal, begged him to fuck her harder and harder. He pounded into her mercilessly, nearly moving the bolted down table as he plowed into her from behind. The bubble of warmth and carnal pressure loomed in front of her, so palpable she imagined she could just reach up and grab it from the sky. Her whole body cried out for this release, prayed for it, as Slash had his way with her. At this moment, she needed this more than anything she'd ever needed. “I'm coming,” Slash announced, picking up the pace as he went to finish himself off. Her whole body shook as he exploded inside her, filling her insides with his warmth. That bubble of heaven burst inside her body just as he did, and her mind filled with the heat of a volcano as she tightened and clenched around his manhood. She would have collapsed to the tiled floor, if not for Slash's quick, strong arms that quickly swept her up and placed her on the prep table. The cold metal of the table was so soothing to her hot, naked skin. She lay there, catching her breath. Slash went to pull out, but she could feel how hard he was still. “Please,” she groaned, “finish.” She saw him grin and shake his head as he continued to stroke in and out of her, his own eyes nearly rolling back as he rode out the last of his orgasm. She flexed herself around him, catching and stroking him as best she could with her insides. It was the closest to a ‘thank you’ she could manage for the best orgasm she'd ever had in her life. By the time, he was completely soft again, Lacey was more than recovered. He pulled out of her and tucked himself away as she gathered up her clothes from the floor and table. He pulled her into his embrace, kissed her. Their tongues swirled around each other, again. But, Lacey felt

this kiss was somehow different. More complete than it had been before. She realized that their first kiss, just a little while ago, had felt the same. Something had changed between them, after this shift they'd just worked together. Something had shifted, become more complete. And, even though Lacey was just coming out of the awful nightmare what was life with Wayne Walker, she knew that, somehow, she'd finally made the right choice.

Chapter 28 Slash They rode back to the Battleborn clubhouse. The setting sun hung low in the western sky, warming them as they made their way down the back roads. Slash's head reeled from all the contradictions happening in his life. Lacey's arms wrapped tight around his body as she clung to the back of the bike, and he felt dizzy with newfound emotions. He was with her: literally, the girl of his dreams. After nearly a decade of pining after her, of trying to forget her and put her from his mind, he had her. But the universe couldn’t simply let him have just this one thing. Instead, it had to pile misery upon his contentment. When he'd spoken to Sherman earlier in the day the lawyer had laid it out for him. None of his guys were coming home. Not anytime soon, at least. And the cost of keeping up with all this was rising by the day. Soon, the MC would be tapped on cash. They wouldn't have the money to smoothly transition from gangsters to legitimate businessmen. Nor would they be able to afford the cost of the bail, if that even became available. Payments to the men's families would stop, and protection for the guys on the inside would cease. Everything seemed to be unraveling right before his eyes. He hadn't said anything to Rat, Tiny, or Lacey. He hadn't wanted to burden them with such a bleak outlook, especially since he desperately needed them to be focused and in the moment. He also couldn't have them curl up in a ball and give up, like he almost had that morning. As he pulled into the nearly deserted clubhouse lot, he realized that he would have to tell them something, though. The situation was untenable. Dire, even. Rat and Tiny deserved to know what the future likely held in store for them. They had the right to choose their own destiny. That's what an MC was about. You take away a man's free will, you make him into a cog in a machine and just another walking corpse. You strip away his ability to choose, and you strip away what made him a man in the first place. “Hey,” Lacey said as they climbed off the bike. Before he could respond, she'd slipped her arms beneath his jacket and pulled herself close to him. His chest swelled with emotion as she wrapped herself around him and snuggled up close. He realized she'd used some fruity shampoo, probably left behind by one of the club girls in his shower, and her hair smelled like peaches. “Hey, yourself,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and just holding her. She pulled back a little so she could look up at him. “I really care about you,” she said. “You know that, right?” He was actually a little surprised that she felt she had to tell him. But, it was still nice to hear. “Yeah,” he said, resting a hand on the back of her head, “I know, babe,” he said as he massaged her neck lightly, “I know.”

“And, whatever happens,” she continued, her words slow and deliberate, “I want you by my side.” He listened to her words, taking them in. He nodded. He wanted to tell her he loved her, wanted to spill his guts and just put his emotions and needs into words. He froze as he remembered what had happened all those years ago when he'd put the choice in front of her. Worried about the past repeating itself, he kept a lid on the words he wanted to say and just smiled, instead. “I know,” he said. “Me too.” Even though they weren't the words he desperately wanted to use, they were good enough for her. She stood on tip toes and kissed him, embraced him tightly. He held her head against his chest, his heart racing double-time. Even as he cradled her to him, his eyes swept out over the nearly deserted parking lot, at the spaces that had once been filled with bikes. He leaned down, kissed the top of her head, and patted her ass with a free hand. “Ready to head in?” “Yeah,” she chirped, her voice chipper and upbeat, as she released him. “What do we have planned for tonight?” “Dinner, first,” he said as he headed inside, holding the door open for her. They went into the nearly silent clubhouse, with her in the lead. He could hear Tiny and Rat in the rec room, speaking in hushed tones like they were graveyard visitors wary of waking ghosts. They were both leaning forward, intently discussing the MC's options over beers. “I just dunno,” Tiny was saying as he and Lacey entered the room, “I think we should go in and get the fucker.” “Nah,” Rat replied, shaking his head furiously, “rule one: don't kill the cops.” “Ain't a cop, he's a lawyer,” Tiny retorted. “Technically,” Slash interjected as he walked up, “he's an officer of the court, which means it's a shit load worse than just killing a cop. You'll bring down the feebs and God knows what else, we do that.” “Feebs?” Lacey asked, confusion in her voice and on her face. “FBI,” Rat supplied. “Worse than the DEA, not as bad as the CIA.” “Why's the CIA worse?” Lacey asked. “Cause, if the CIA's coming after you,” Slash answered, “you probably did way worse than just killing a prosecutor.” “Well, what should we do, then?” Slash took a breath. This was the time, this was the moment. He had to bite the bullet, had to let them all down. There was a bitter pill, and someone needed to swallow it. As the president of the MC, it was his job. Just then his phone buzzed in his pocket. He kept his mouth shut and fished it out. It was a message from an unknown number. “Been thinking, Dustin. Think I screwed up. Call me. WW.”

He couldn't believe his eyes. There was no way Wayne was calling for a truce. Maybe, though, he'd seen the way they handled Fresh B & B almost getting shut down, and it had changed his mind on whether or not he could win. Or, perhaps, something else had changed his mind. Whatever it was, maybe this was an opportunity. He couldn't say anything to the others, not yet. Not until he knew for sure what Wayne was up to. He was already giving them false hope by not completely leveling with them. What was worse was that he was no disregarding the promise he’d made to Lacey. He'd said he'd put an end to Wayne, to his abuses, that he'd make sure he never hurt another woman. He couldn't go back on those words, could he? He warred with himself in that split second. He could make this work. He could form a truce with Wayne, if that's what it came down to, if it at least meant he could get his boys back and get some breathing room. Once he had the Battleborn whole again, had them back on their original path to legitimacy, he'd end it with Wayne. He'd come out of nowhere with his attack, too. Just like that, it was decided. “Slash?” Tiny asked him as he stared quizzically down at his phone. “You okay, brother?” “Huh?” Slash asked, his eloquence knowing no bounds as he looked up at his second-in-command. “Just looked like you were about to say something, that's all.” “Nope,” Slash replied, shaking his head. “Got nothing, man.” A concerned look passed over Tiny's face like a cloud over the moon. There one moment, gone the next. “Cool,” he said. “Why don't you guys grab some beers, and we'll talk about all this?” “Sure,” Slash said, nodding. “I'm gonna duck into the bedroom real quick and get cleaned up, first.” He turned to Lacey and, with a hand on her lower back, gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Grab a cold one for me, babe,” he said, then stomped off deeper into the silent clubhouse to make a phone call. Slash went into his bathroom, locked the door behind him, and turned on the shower. Hopefully, the running shower would throw Lacey and the others off his scent. He dialed the number the text had been sent from and pressed the phone to his ear. Then, he waited. The phone only had a chance to ring twice before it was picked up on the other line. “Dustin?” Wayne asked on the other end. “That you?” “Yeah,” Slash growled. “Got your text.” “Good,” Wayne said, just as jolly as he had been back in the Fresh B & B the day before. “Haven't changed one bit. Still prompt, still razor focused.” “You wanted to talk about a truce? Or you wanna spend your time running your mouth, Wayne?” “Oh, that's right! You're calling about the truce. Well, believe me, I've got a deal that I'm certain we'll all be more than happy with.” “Spill it then. Ain't got time for this bullshit.”

“Well, it occurred to me that getting you guys, tearing you all apart. That might be fun, gratifying even,” Wayne said, his tone completely conversational. “But, I thought to myself, 'Wayne, is that all you really want? To see Dustin rotting in a jail cell somewhere?' It occurred to me, though, after you and my little whore of an ex-fiancée managed to pull off a shift at Fresh, that brotherhood is what really matters to you bikers. How it's all about trusting the man next to you.” “Okay. Your point?” “Here it is. You know who the Lightning Kings are, right?” “Course I do. They're our biggest rivals in the area. What about 'em?” “I want you to testify against them. Do that for me, and I'll give you and your crew immunity, leave Lacey alone, and we'll pretend everything is just water under the bridge. Hell, you can leave town and take her with you, even. But I want the Lightning Kings.” Slash bit his lip, stayed silent. He couldn't speak out against them in court. The Battleborn would tear his patch off his vest in a heartbeat for bringing the cops into a rivalry like this, for turning state's witness. At the same time, though, he couldn't sit back and do nothing. Wayne had practically already won, anyway. What was he going to do, fight it out in the courts? He was already at the end of his rope on that front. “Why?” he asked. “Why are you offering me this, now?” “Because you wouldn't do it otherwise. Know why I'm going after the Battleborn and not just you, Dustin? It's because it'll look good for the papers when I go for the big chair, and later run for judge. I don't give a shit if it's the Battleborn I grind under, or the Lightning Kings. You're all little fish to me, anyways. But, boy, does the public love it when a big bad biker gang gets put away. Besides, I get what I want out of this, anyway.” “Which is ...?” Wayne laughed into the phone. “Well, you suffer either way, big guy. Don't testify, I dismantle your crew and send you all to prison. Well, keep them there, at least. Testify, and none of your brothers, or any other biker, will ever have anything to do with you. No matter which option you choose, you're screwed.” “I need time to think about this,” Slash said, his head spinning from this new option. “I need you to show me you're not just bullshitting around.” “How about I give you till tomorrow afternoon? Three o'clock, down in that old park we used to drink beer in on Friday nights?” “Parr?” “That's the one, I think. In the meantime, I'll call and talk to your lawyer, Sherman. I'll let him know I'll stop protesting his bail requests, and we'll get your guys already in moved up on the dockets and released. How does that sound?”

“Yeah,” Slash said, the world seeming to rush by, “yeah, start working something out. I still need time to think about this, though.” “I know, Dustin, I know. You're going to be betraying everything you believe in, right?” Wayne asked with a laugh. “I mean, of course you're going to have second thoughts. But, just remember, you decide to go back on this deal, this all starts over again. You've seen what I can do with just one phone call.” There was a knock at the door. “Slash, sweetie?” Lacey called through the door. “You alright in there?” “Just a second, babe,” Slash grumbled back, his thumb over the phone's receiver. “Don't be late, Dustin,” Wayne said, a touch of the familiar cruelty in his voice. “Deal expires at three-ohone tomorrow.” “Yeah,” Slash mumbled. Then the line was dead. Slash tucked his phone away in his pocket, took a deep breath, and considered what had just happened. He'd just been offered a way out. A light at the end of the tunnel. He looked at himself in the mirror, looked at the scars that were etched out over his body, the scars that traced over his flesh like a history written in blood and sinew. If he did this, if he ratted on the Lightning Kings, he'd be out of the Battleborn, and he'd have broken his word to Lacey. If he didn't do it, he'd eventually wind up in a cell, four feet by eight, constantly looking over his shoulder for a Lightning King hitman, or worse. He reached up, touched his cheek. Could he do this? Could he turn rat? Or, looking at it in a different way, could he sacrifice everything to save his crew? He'd still end up with the girl, this way. But if her feelings for him were tied to this vest, to this lifestyle, he might lose her, too. A thought occurred to him. There could be an alternative. He had to talk to his lawyer first, though, to see how well it would hold up in court. “Maybe. maybe,” he said into the mirror as he allowed himself a small smile, “there's a way out.” “Babe?” Lacey called from his bunk. “You okay in there?” “Just talking to myself,” he called back. “You're not losing it from the stress, are you?” she asked, a note of humor in her voice. “Not yet,” he said, grinning at himself in the mirror. He stripped down the rest of the way and hopped in the shower. Phone call, or not, he still needed to get the grime of this day off.

Chapter 29 Lacey Lacey sat in Slash's bed with pillows against the headboard propping her up. She'd grabbed a thin book off his shelf and started to read, trying to unwind down the evening. But, the words all seemed to twist inside her, warring with the thoughts and memories of the evening. Something about all of this didn't seem right. But, whatever it was, she couldn't put her thumb on it. That night, she and the remaining Battleborn had discussed the future. The three men reluctantly voted to keep Fresh B & B closed for the next couple of days, at least until they knew when their men would be free. Slash, for his part, was strangely confident about that. He said it would just be a matter of time till the guys got out, that his lawyer was moving ahead on everything. Tiny had seemed as surprised as Lacey by the turn of events. “You serious?” he'd asked, brightening up a little. “You mean the boys are really going to come home?” “Matter of time, that's all,” Slash had assured him. He'd seemed unhappier about it than he should have, though. “Sherman said the wheels are moving, but they move slower than we think. But, yeah, it's all in the works to get 'em out. Just gotta post bail on some of them.” Lacey had caught his eye during the meeting, and she had her own doubts about what was going on. In the days she'd been there, she'd readjusted to this new, older man, but she'd also learned how similar he was to the younger one she'd known all those years ago. And, to her mind, something about him just didn't seem right. She knew he was telling the truth. But she could also see that he wasn't being completely forthcoming about everything. It was like he was holding back something, but she couldn't be sure of exactly what. “Well, that's a real good job on that front,” Rat piped up as he slurped down more beer. “Real nice, right there.” “Yeah,” Tiny agreed, laughing and clapping Slash on the back. “Fuck yeah! I mean, we just gotta give it time, right?” “Right,” Slash said, grinning. In light of things they voted unanimously to keep the restaurant closed for the time being. Now, as she waited for Slash to crawl into bed with her, her thoughts wandered back over the years, through all the murk of her college tenure, and all the bad times with Wayne. They settled on the last time she'd seen Slash before just a few days ago, back in the days when he was still just plain old Dustin Riley. He'd been an office attendant, then, and was responsible for sending the requests from counselors and the like down to the students. They'd write one up, and he'd go get them. She remembered with a smile, though, that he'd palmed a pad of them from the administrative office at the beginning of their senior year. She should have suspected the beginnings of his criminal inclinations, even back then.

He'd use the stack of hall passes to get her and Wayne out of boring classes so they could go wander the school, or go sneak underneath the bleachers in the auditorium and just hang out. Sometimes just hanging out with your friends and doing nothing was better than sitting through a boring lecture in civics. One day, towards the end of school, he'd snuck her out of class with a hall pass from the office. He didn't get Wayne, though, just her. She hadn't known it at the time, but he was taking her there to tell her something in private. He'd made a mistake, however. Wayne had seen them through the window as they passed one of his classes. He'd asked to go to the nurse's office a little while later, then slipped after them. Back then he’d had taken her hand. Held it tight, so tight. She remembered how his palms were sweating. She'd thought it was weird at the time, but now she knew he was just nervous. They were sitting close together, and he'd looked into her eyes. He whispered those words to her: “I love you.” Then, they'd kissed. Their first kiss. Then Wayne had appeared. He'd seen it all and started screaming. The boys got into a fight, with Dustin trying to calm him down and protect himself. Wayne had knocked him back, over a metal support bar. Unfortunately, his leg was still up over the beam, caught like a branch against a tree. Wayne's eyes were filled with blood-shot rage, the kind of rage only a madman could put off. He stomped down, snapping Dustin's thigh like kindling. Even now, almost ten years later, the sound of that crack haunted Lacey as she thought back on it. She shivered at the memory, of how she'd had to pull Wayne off him. What followed, the lies from Wayne, the threats to the school from his father if they tried to punish him, everything had been swept beneath the rug. Including Dustin. Looking back, she knew what was happening was wrong, but she’d been helpless. How could she, one lone girl, make a difference in the grand scheme of things? So, she'd backed Wayne Walker's side, and his father's. She kept her mouth shut, and watched as one of her best friends in the whole world was suspended and kept from walking across the stage for graduation. Slash came in from the bathroom and crawled into bed beside her, jarring her from her depressing trip down memory lane. “How's the book?” he asked as he pulled her into his arms. “Not really paying much attention to it,” she said, honestly. “Thinking about the last time we saw each other. Back in school, I mean.” “Yeah,” he said as she leaned her head against his chest. “Probably not a good thing to think about it. Happened in the past. Should stay that way.” Guilt gnawed away at her, guilt about the way Slash had been treated afterward. “I never told anyone about what happened down there,” she replied, suddenly beginning to grow sleepy as she settled into his arms and the security they offered. “Really happened. About how Wayne broke your leg like that when you refused to fight him.” “Told you I'd rather not talk about this,” he said with a sigh. “It's not something I really want to relive.” “I should have just said something, should have backed up your story,” she continued, fighting back a yawn. “I'm just, I'm really sorry. I never would have been with him if ... Just, maybe I would have chosen

a different path, is all.” She closed her eyes and let the sound of his thumping heartbeat begin to lull her to sleep. “Honestly,” he said with a deep sigh, “I'm almost happy it happened. Sure, I got fucked over by the school, but it really helped me put some things in perspective and led me here. It sucked when I was going through it, but I'd hate to know what I might have become. Besides, you and I wouldn't have lasted. Not like I was.” Her lips twisted up in a little smile as he tried to push the past back into its rightful place. “But, were you serious?” she asked, her words slurred with exhaustion. “About what you told me before he showed up?” “That ... that I cared about you?” “I don't remember you using that word exactly,” she said as she began to feel herself slipping away into sleep. “Fine,” he said, his words sounding like they were miles away, in a different world even. “That I loved you?” “Yeah,” she whispered. But, before she could hear her words, she'd drifted away. The exhaustion had become too much for her.

Chapter 30 Slash He woke early that morning, closer to his normal time, and left the still soundly sleeping Lacey in bed. He padded on bare feet into the kitchen and began sorting through everything he'd need for the picnic lunch he'd planned as his coffee brewed, his surprisingly well-rested mind going through the hundred ways this day could end. He'd slipped away after his conversation with Wayne and called the lawyers to check on a few things. What Wayne had said about Big Jim's and Jerry's cases being swapped around and shuffled higher was true. It looked like Jerry's charges might even be dropped. Also, Sherman had been given the impression that the DA wouldn't be challenging him at bail hearings. From the impressions he'd been receiving, it sounded like the DA suddenly wanted to play ball. Then Slash had told him about the deal Wayne wanted to talk about. Sherman advised him in the predictable way: he needed to take the deal, particularly if it was going to guarantee his men would stay out. Any guarantee that they could avoid any kind of prosecution was clearly the best option available, no matter what the consequences were personally. “But,” he'd said, “that's just me speaking as a lawyer regarding the law. I've known you guys, and other MCs, long enough to know that it's not a very good idea, Slash. I’m not saying this as a lawyer, mind you. Just as another guy on the street.” Slash had floated the other idea he had. What about recording the conversation? No, their state didn't have laws against non-consent recording between two parties, as long as one party clearly consented. He could record Wayne but, ideally, any conversation he had with the assistant DA should be had with Sherman there. “But, come on Sherman, you know he ain't gonna say anything around you. Not about all this shit.” “Well, no, of course he won't. But, that's my legal advice, strictly speaking. And, remember, that's what you pay me for. Even if you are calling me at home, and I'm billing you double.” “Yeah, yeah,” Slash had said. “I know, man. I know.” They ended the call after that. Slash didn't relish the idea of racking up any more time with the legal geek than he could afford. Then there'd been the conversation with Lacey moments after he crawled into bed. He'd almost said it, then. Said those deadly three words that had gotten him into so much trouble all those years ago. Sitting there at the prep table now, perched on his bar stool, he regretted that he hadn't said them. It never felt like the right time. But when was a right time, if not then? He ran a hand down his face. If he agreed to Wayne's deal, and testified against the Lightning Kings, he'd be betraying her and his MC. The MC would be saved, but Lacey would be hurt. She'd have had yet another promise broken to her by a man in her life.

If his plan worked, and he could get Wayne to admit what he'd done on recording by tricking him somehow into letting slip the abuses he'd piled on Lacey and the unfair harassment he'd unleashed on the Battleborn, then this would all be over. She'd be free. Free to pursue the life that had been interrupted by a series of poor choices, free to go back to school, to do charity work. Would she stay with him, then? A skeezy biker that only fucked club girls and talked more with his fists than his words, who lived on the edge of legitimacy? Or was he only offering her security, a sense of protection from Wayne? Was he just the port in the midst of this vengeful storm? Slash shook his head. He didn't know. He wasn't a mind reader. The only thing he did know was that in about nine hours, he was going to have a meeting with fate. Another meeting with Wayne, completely unscripted and unsupervised, where Slash had to trick him into spilling his deepest, darkest secrets in an effort to create incriminating evidence. Either that or he’d end up agreeing to testify against a rival gang. He gripped his coffee mug so tight he almost shattered the ceramic in his hands. This was a fool's quest. Something for a bad Steven Segal film. What happened out at that park would determine how the rest of their lives would turn out, for good or ill. With that thought in mind, he rose from his bar stool and went back to doing what he'd intended to do when he came into the kitchen. He began preparing his picnic lunch that he wanted to have with Lacey, putting everything in order so he could surprise her. He wanted to make sure that what little time he might have left with her was memorable. Maybe, when she looked back on this afternoon after everything had come to its final end, she'd be able to smile as she thought about him. Not as an afterthought, but as one of the bright spots in the dark days she'd had to endure during her life with Wayne Walker. # # # Once she'd gotten up and moving, Lacey was more than happy to hop on the back of his bike and go for a ride through the nearby woods. Normally, he'd go for these late morning rides on his own, and use them as a time to clear his head. This time, though, he'd packed up everything he'd prepared earlier, in the hopes of surprising her. The morning was beautiful. The sun was warm, but if you caught a little bit of shade you could feel the cool air as it brushed over your skin. It was a perfect day for a ride, and they took their time finding their way down the various winding back roads of the countryside. Lacey clung to his back, her slender arms around his bulkier frame. He found himself sighing, relaxing from the all the stress of the week, despite the fact that he was meant to meet Wayne Walker later that day. He knew that, one way or another, everything would come down to that meeting. Strangely, though, he felt a sort of calm, a sense of peace about himself. This appointment was inevitable, unavoidable. Struggling against it, and being anxious about the whole thing wouldn't do him any good. After about an hour or so on the bike, with both of them just taking in the scenery, Slash pulled over on the side of the road near a break in the trees. A cacophony of vivid greens erupted around them, and the sense of fresh, new life filled the air. Slash could feel it deep down in his lungs, and deeper still into the core of his being.

“Why are we stopping?” Lacey asked. He killed the engine and put up the kickstand. “Wanna show you something, that's all.” They climbed down off the bike together and set to grabbing all the stuff for their picnic from his saddlebags. “What's this?” she asked in a surprised tone as he piled up fruit, sandwiches, and cheeses in her arms. He pulled the blanket from his bad and draped it over the seat while he closed his saddlebag back up. “It's a picnic,” he said. “What does it look like?” “A picnic?” she asked, her eyes flashing with excitement. “I can't even remember the last time I had a picnic!” He grinned as he grabbed most of the food from her. “Well, I've never had much reason for 'em. But, well, you weren't around.” She smiled up at him. “Is this why you woke up so early?” He laughed and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “No, I normally get up that early. But, yeah, it's when I put everything together. Now, come on.” His arms full, he headed out to a small path through the nearby trees. A small wire fence lay trampled into the edge of the forest floor here, marking it as someone's property. In all the time Slash had been coming out this way, he'd never encountered another human being. He'd found this spot a few years before when he was out tramping through the forest by himself, he explained as they followed a faint deer trail through the trees and underbrush. He'd never brought anyone else out this way. Not any of the guys, and definitely not any of the club girls. “So, this is sort of your Fortress of Solitude, then?” she asked. He laughed. “I wouldn't exactly compare me to Superman, or anything. But, yeah, I guess I use it as a way to get away from the clubhouse, from the restaurant. Take a long ride, chill out here with a book. I like it.” “Well,” Lacey said as she squeezed his hand, “I don't think you're much of a Clark Kent, that's for sure.” They followed the path as it rose up through the trees on a shallow incline, twisting back and forth as it led them up a small hill. The trees here were old, and the whole place smelled of musty damp. Around them, the trees were nearly silent except for the occasional bird call. “Ever see any animals out here?” “Rabbits mostly,” he said. “I don't normally come out here at the right time for deer, but I can see their signs.” She laughed, her voice musical and lilting. “You can track wild animals now?” He laughed and shook his head as he offered her a hand to climb over a fallen log. “My dad taught me

how to read them, a little at least. Needed to be able to see where they fed if you wanted to come back and shoot them.” She frowned a little. “Ain't like we shot Bambi or anything,” he said, grinning, as he reached up and grabbed her arm. “That's not funny.” She stuck her tongue out at him “I loved that movie when I was kid.” “Oh, I'm just messing with you,” he said, squeezing her upper arm. They turned back and kept following the path, heading up to the top of the hill. The trees thinned as they went higher, with less and less trees being able to root themselves in the increasingly steep soil. Their twisted roots threaded throughout the top soil, and the two of them had to watch their step as they made their way up. Eventually, they crested the top and broke through the trees. Lacey gasped a little as she took in the sight. The hill spread out around them, with its one lone oak rooted in the near center, and soft, knee high grass that spread out over the top like a lush carpet. The scenery, though, was what Slash loved about this place. It was easy to forget that their hometown sat in a valley, practically surrounded on all sides by hills. The small town spread out before them. Everything from the church downtown, with its towering steeple, to the old high school they'd spent so much time together in, which was now closed and set to be soon torn down. If you knew where to look, like Slash did, you could even see Fresh B & B, just off Main Street. “It's so beautiful from up here,” Lacey said, her hand covering her mouth. Up here, everything seemed so distant, like all your problems were miles and miles away. It was a picture perfect, scenic spot. He could spend hours up here, just sitting below the big oak, breathing in nature. “You like it, then?” he asked as he headed over to the oak tree and set everything down against the trunk. “God, it's just so wonderful,” she said, following after him. He grabbed the blanket and began to unfold it, then unfurled it and laid it flat on the tall grass. Immediately, it began to settle and lay flat. “Oh, Slash,” she said, coming over and putting her arms around him. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For what?” he asked. “For the picnic?” “For everything. This all started off as the worst day of my life, and now I think it's turned into one of the best weeks.” He tilted her chin up, bringing her eyes up to his. “Despite everything,” he said, “it's been a pretty damn good week for me, too.” They pressed their lips together and kissed, and anyone who saw them would have identified them as young lovers immediately. The way that two lost people can kiss as they cling together, desperately trying to find something bigger than themselves. Their lips parted from one another, and they smiled at each

other. Lacey's stomach grumbled. “So, you packed lunch for us?” she asked, and they both laughed. “Yeah, have a seat,” he said, releasing her and bending down to the array of sealed plastic bags and containers. “It's been a while since I had to pack a picnic, so I wasn't exactly sure what to bring,” he explained as began to hand her food. “It looks wonderful,” she said as she began to unwrap sandwiches and open containers of potato salad. “I'm sure it'll be perfect.” With the food distributed, Slash sat down next to her and they began to eat. In between bites, they talked about their childhood and reminisced about high school. The teachers they'd liked, the ones they couldn't stand. Their conversation absent was any discussion of Wayne Walker, or the events of that afternoon beneath the bleachers. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this content. Before Lacey had come back into his life, he'd just gone from work to the clubhouse. Sure, they'd throw the weekly party, and he'd have someone to warm his bed, but even that felt hollow. Like he was just living a part, one of the big biker dudes that would fuck the girl then toss her out the next morning. Here, up on this hilltop with the world spread out below him, he felt alive. And, even though he had a date with destiny in just a few short hours, he felt wonderful. Besides, what more could he ask for of a spring day? He'd had his coffee, gotten a bike ride in, and now he was sharing a meal with a beautiful woman as they surveyed the town below. What more could a rough and tumble biker ask for? Finished eating, Lacey relaxed back into Slash's arms, leaning her whole body against his. He circled himself around her as they both basked in the sun. “What do you really want out of life?” Lacey asked after a few moments of silence had passed. He shrugged. “Well,” he started, “I got most of what I want already. Not much more I could ask for.” “You're happy, then?” “Right now?” he asked as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Yeah, I'd say so. What about you?” She considered her words. “I don't really know,” she said finally. “I enjoyed yesterday.” “The balls to the wall, insanely crazy, this-is-fucking-awful lunch rush?” She nodded and laughed. “Yeah, that. It was intense. Not exactly fun, or anything, but I at least felt accomplished at the end of the shift.” He laughed. “Well, maybe when this is all over and done with, we'll see what we can do about getting you on board.” She grinned. “I think I'd like that. It'd be a nice change of pace, I suppose.”

“Here,” he said as he shifted her around a little and pulled her into his lap. “What are you doing?” she asked as he swept her hair away from her neck. “Nothing,” he said. “Just getting comfortable.” He leaned down and kissed her neck, took a deep sighing breath. “Oh,” she moaned a little at the touch of his lips. Her round little behind, now situated in his lap, wiggled a little as she readjusted to the new seating arrangement. “Like that?” he asked, chuckling a little. “Maybe,” she said, coyly. “We probably shouldn't, though.” “Shouldn't what?” he asked and kissed and kissed her neck again, this time higher, closer to her ear. “This,” she said. But, he could hear her smiling through her words. His hands began to roam, seemingly of their own accord. The day had been warm, so she hadn't worn much more than a light top and tight jeans. He slipped his hand beneath her shirt, ran his palm across her flat midriff. He kissed her neck again, this time more wetly. “This?” he asked. “Slash,” she said, a note of warning in her voice, even as she tilted her head to the side to give him better access. She moaned a little louder than before as his hand rode a little higher beneath her shirt and brushed across her upper stomach. He could feel himself getting excited from all the warmth, and the wiggling, in his lap. Slowly, he was growing in size and beginning to press against her firm backside. “We really, really shouldn't,” she said again. “And you shouldn't be doing that either.” “This?” he asked as he reached higher beneath her shirt, making it ride up higher around her stomach, and cupped her breast. “Or this?” He ground himself into her backside and kissed her neck again, his tongue trailing over her hot skin. “Both,” she moaned, wiggling herself into his crotch and pressing herself into his hand. “Guess I'll just stop, then,” he said playfully. “Don't you dare,” she replied, her hand reaching down and grabbing the one he'd snuck beneath her top. She held it in place, making sure he couldn't retreat. “So many confusing signals,” he chided as his other hand slipped down between her legs and began to rub her mid inner thigh. “A guy just doesn't know what to think anymore.” “Just shut up and keep kissing my neck,” she said, moaning again as he slipped a big hand inside her bra and moved the other higher up her thigh. She reached up behind her and wrapped a hand around behind his head. Her fingers stroked his face, entangled themselves in his hair.

He tweaked her nipple, twisted it lightly between his fingers as she pressed herself into his hand. She pushed herself back into his crotch, grinding herself on his manhood. He'd grown to full size now. “That for me?” she whispered. “All for you, babe,” he growled back, pinching her nipple again as he said it. “Here,” he said, gesturing for her to get up. They both stood and, quick as lightning, their hands flew to each other. They began to pull off the other's clothes, stripping their bodies bare for all of nature to see. She looked just as beautiful in the warm sunlight, her skin creamy and perfect beneath its rays. Their clothes surrounded them in a scattered, haphazard circle, like a makeshift shrine to the two lovers. His hands ran over her smooth, firm body, kneading her flesh one moment, scratching with blunt nails the next as they kissed in the sunlight. His tongue slipped into her mouth, playfully flicking hers, as she worked her hand between them and found his cock pressed against her belly. She wrapped her slender fingers around his shaft and began to stroke, her thumb dipping into his pre-cum and swirling it around the head. Her grip felt amazing. So firm, yet so soft. After so few times together, it was like she knew every inch of his body now. He groaned into her mouth and tightened his grip on her as he bit her lower lip. She moaned and began to work her hand faster up and down his shaft. He broke away from the kiss. “Not yet,” he said, panting with desire. She grinned a little and released him. Her hand dipped lower and cupped his heavy balls, squeezed him gently. “That better?” He groaned. “Know what would be even better?” he asked. On cue, she began to slide down his body, her erect nipples brushing down his front. Her lips left a trail of kisses on his abs, all the way down the V they made at the bottom of his belly. Her breath was hot, bathing his cock in its warmth. He ran a hand through her hair, brushing the bangs from her eyes so he could watch as she slowly, deliberately began to slide her lips over him. She looked up at him as she took him in her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the head, flicked it on the bottom, and grazed her teeth lightly along on his shaft. He moaned again, his knees weakening as she bobbed her head, as she sucked lightly and swirled her tongue around his member. He tightened his hand in her hair, careful to not take away too much control from her. She moaned a little as his fingers wrapped themselves in her locks, pulled him from her mouth and began to slowly, languidly stroke her hand up and down his shaft. She dipped her mouth down the bottom side of him till she reached his heavy balls and began to give him a good tongue-lashing. “Goddamn, woman,” he breathed as he felt his balls swelling with a need for release. He could tell he was close already, but he wanted to make this moment last. “Don't make me cum, yet.” Grinning, she pulled her lips from their play, and smiled up at him. She beckoned him down to her with a

crooked finger. “Well, come down here, then,” she said, sitting back on the blanket with her legs outstretched in front of her. He joined her on the blanket, pulling her into him as he braced himself with one hand and ran the other over her body. His hand dipped down below her waist and found the treasure between her legs. She was gushing as he slipped a finger inside her. She raised her hips into his hand as she moaned beneath his lips. “Right there,” she groaned, moving herself on his fingers. He stroked in and out of her with his fingers, rubbing across her g-spot as his thumb deftly circled her clit. He bit her lower lip again, sucked it into his mouth as she began to shake under his attention. “Yeah,” she groaned again, her hips moving faster on his hand, “that's it.” Her whole body shook and rocked, tensed like she was at the end of a live electrical line. “That's it, Slash,” she nearly yelled. He watched as she shook and moaned, and he realized he'd never seen anything more beautiful than those wide-open, pleading, pleasure-filled eyes. She was in ecstasy, and he loved her. There was something about making the woman he loved cum like that, the way her whole body writhed beneath his touch. She spread her legs wider for him, kissed him again as she put her hand down below atop his. She lightly stroked her fingers over the back of his hand, then stopped and pulled them away. Her eyes were filled with need, with passion, as she silently told him what she wanted next. Before he could say anything, she reached down between his legs and grabbed his manhood and gently pulled it to her. He wrapped his arms around her and slid his body between her legs. He held her up as he guided his cock to her vulva. She lifted her pert ass up off the blanket, giving him a better angle as he began to slide into her. She was like velvet inside. Warm, wet, wanting. She wrapped about him like a tender vice as she slid into her, filling her with his hard flesh. He lowered his lips to hers and they kissed again, their bodies entwined as they moved against one another beneath the spring afternoon's sun. Lacey met each of his thrusts with one of her own, groaning as he went deeper and deeper with each stroke. She scratched her nails up and down his back, shaking and panting as he filled and emptied her in rapid pulses. Her nails were like fire as they gently tore at his skin. He didn't care, all he wanted was to feel like this forever, to feel like they were this close. His whole world seemed to disappear as they made love, as the pleasure overrode all sense of time and place. She wrapped a leg around his waist, pulled him in deeper. She moaned loudly into his mouth as he fucked her faster. “Dustin,” she groaned, “I'm so close.” He grabbed hold of her ass with one hand, nearly smacking it, as he pulled her more roughly onto him. She cried out as he continued to fill her, begging him for more. She tightened around him again, her limbs like steel beams as they clung to him. She cried out, her whole body arching in ecstasy on the blanket. Slash crushed her lips one more time as he, too, felt his pleasure build. He drove into her, holding himself as deep as he could, and moaned as he exploded. It was like he was truly alive for the first time ever, and a white heat filled him as he began to unload inside of her. They kissed again, their lips smacking wetly,

as they both shook in rapture under the spring sun. Spent, they collapsed onto the blanket, a mass of tangled limbs and limp muscles. He rolled off of her, tried desperately to catch his breath. Sweat covered his body, despite the cool breeze caressing his damp body. “Good?” he gasped. “Amazing,” she breathed. He rolled over and propped himself up one arm, still winded, and ran a hand over her naked body. He idly pulled at a nipple, and she ineffectually slapped at his hand in protest. Smiling, he leaned down and kissed her. She felt sacred under his touch, like something eternal and everlasting. No matter what happened later that day, he wanted to remember this moment, beneath the sun. She smiled up at him as she ran her hands over his chest, over the scars and tattoos that covered him. “Someday,” she whispered as she first touched one scar, then the next. “I want to know what all of these are from.” That day would have to wait. Off to the west, though, they heard a twig snap and break. “Hey,” called a voice, “what y'all doing on my land?” Lacey's eyes went wide. “Oh shit!” she squealed.

Chapter 31 Lacey Giggling like school kids, the pair ran back down the path through the woods. The angry-sounding farmer from the edge of the trees had appeared just as they'd finished pulling their socks and shoes back on, and he'd shaken a fist at them as they went running back down the hill. They'd abandoned their remaining food and Slash's tattered old blanket in favor of getting away. Now they ran carefully back through the trees with one eye on the forest floor and another on their destination. “Come on,” Slash called, “he's gonna catch us!” She glanced back over her shoulder, eyes wide, but the farmer had long since given up his pursuit. “Oh, shut up!” she huffed back at him between gasping breaths. Up ahead of her, he laughed loudly at her having taken the bait. A few minutes later, the two of them were bent over, panting and wheezing for breath like they'd just run a marathon. Both were red-faced from the exertion. “You need to get out more,” he choked out, grinning. “You're just as out of breath as me,” she replied, slapping him playfully. Together, they hopped on the back of his chopper and tore off down the back road. Lacey wrapped her arms around Slash's waist and pulled herself close as he revved the engine, really letting it rip and roar, as they whipped off down the broken asphalt with a whooping yell from them both. The wind rushed past them, tearing at their clothes as they raced back down the roads, laughing the whole way. A little while later, they pulled up in the empty clubhouse parking lot and Slash parked the bike near the metal building. Slash checked the time as they hopped down off his hog. He muttered something, a half-formed thought. “What's up?” she asked. “Almost two o'clock, that's all.” “Have somewhere important to be?” she asked as she slid her hands around his waist, beneath his patched vest. “Actually,” he said as he leaned down to kiss her, “I do.” “Oh?” she asked after his lips brushed hers. “Who ya meeting? Another lover?” she asked, giggling a little at the implication. “Not quite,” he said with a laugh as he shook his head. “Well, can I come along for the ride? I love being on the back of your bike.”

He bit his lip and shook his head again. “No,” he said, “not to this meeting.” Lacey laughed again, thinking it was another bad joke but she realized as she looked into his eyes there wasn’t anything humorous about it. “Oh. You're serious, aren't you?” “Yeah,” he growled. “Sorry, but you can't come along.” “Well, who is it, then? That you can't bring me along?” He glanced away with a sigh. “Look, I don't think you really need to know.” There was something about the way he said it, the way he seemed almost ashamed of what he was doing. “No,” she said. She snatched her wrist out of reach as he went to grab her hand, to presumably pull her toward the clubhouse. “I think I absolutely need to fucking know what's going on. And I need to know right now.” “Let's just talk about this inside,” he said. “Why?” “Why?” he asked, frustrated. “Because I need Tiny and Rat to watch you while I'm gone.” Then, somehow, it all clicked in her head. What he wanted to do, where he was going, why she needed to be watched by the two remaining Battleborn. How she knew, she couldn’t say – only that there was only one obvious conclusion to be drawn. “You're going to meet him, aren't you?” she nearly hissed. “You're going to meet with that fucker Wayne!” He sighed. “Babe,” he said, “I really need you to listen to me on this. I have to meet someone, and I've gotta be there in about thirty minutes. Okay?” She crossed her arms and put her foot down, feeling a little like a petulant child as she stamped in the dusty parking lot. “You tell me what's going on right now, Dustin Riley. Or, so help me God, this is over.” He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, then closed it again. Like a poor fish out of water. Which, Lacey supposed, he was. From the way he'd described his life, he'd steered clear of romantic attachments. Slash had wanted a life that was beholden to no one, man or woman. “He offered me a deal, to testify against another gang in court, but I've got a plan to flip it back on him,” he said. “Even our lawyer thinks it'll work, if we can get some hard evidence.” “So, that's why the guys are coming home?” “That's right,” he said, nodding. “Because I agreed to meet with him.” “He's going to fuck you over,” she said. “You know that, right? Wayne gets his shits and giggles from jerking people around.”

He nodded. “I know. But, this is the best plan we have, Lacey.” “I don't like it.” “I don't like it either,” he reminded her. “But, ain't no one else coming up with a better, foolproof plan that I've heard.” She looked down at her shoes, scuffed them against the gravel lot. She took a deep breath and looked up at the pale blue sky, at the vault of heaven that stretched from horizon to horizon. “I want to go with you,” she said, finally. “No,” he said. His voice was flat, firm. “That right there, that would be playing right into his fucking hands. I need you here, safe, in case this is some kind of switcheroo-fuck-you that he's trying to pull. If something happens to me, I want to know you're safe where he can't touch you.” “Slash,” she said, a little frustrated that it was perfectly fine for him to put himself in harm's way, but it was somehow anathema for her to do the same, “you can't just expect me to stay here safe. I got you into this problem, I want to go with you.” “You didn't get me into this problem,” he said as he got up off his bike. He came over and pulled her into his arms. “I did.” She looked to the side, out to the nearly deserted road that led up to the Battleborn clubhouse. “It's my fault he got away with breaking your leg in the first place,” she whispered. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice gravelly and low, “but it's my fault I'm still in love with you. I have to keep you safe, babe.” “Dustin, I ... I don't know what to say.” He stroked her cheek with his fingers, smile down at her. “You don't have to say anything.” She felt the heat rising to her cheeks and looked away. She thought she'd felt this way, once, about Wayne. All that had been thrown out on its head, though, when he completely flipped on her. What she felt for Slash, this affection, this attraction. She knew it was real. He'd never hurt her, or betray her. “I love you, too,” she whispered back. “Which is why-” “Wait,” he said, his voice relieved and shocked at the same time. “You do?” She looked back up at him, at the little grin on his lips. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting her answer. “Which is why I don't want to let you go.” “You need to, though,” he said. “Taking responsibility for this, that's what I'm here for. That's part of who I am. I have to go do this. And, if it works, he'll be off our backs forever.” She nodded, put a hand on his chest. “I know,” she replied after a while. “I just, I don't have to like it, though. Not one bit.”

“Well, ain't like I’m exactly jumping over the moon for this shit, neither,” he said, squeezing her in his arms. “But, we'll get through it, okay?” Frustrated, she let out a long sigh. “Yeah, okay. I mean, what choice do I have?” “Not much more than what I've got,” he conceded. “This is a shit show all around, you know. But, let's go talk to the guys, alright? We'll let Tiny and Rat know what's going on, get you situated, then I'll head out. I still got a meeting to catch.” Together, they went inside and found the two other free Battleborn members. They were playing pool in the rec room, sucking back a couple beers, and generally trying to keep their cool while their world fell apart around them. “Alright, guys,” Slash announced as he walked in. “Need you to keep an eye on Lacey while I head out to a meeting.” Both men looked over to him from their game, their pool cues gripped tightly in their hands. They exchanged concerned looks, but Tiny spoke first. “What's the meeting about?” he asked. “I'm meeting with Wayne Walker,” Slash grumbled. He held up a hand before either man could lodge a protest. “I don't like it any more than you do.” He moved them back into the meeting room, a room Lacey hadn't been allowed in until now. All of them dropped their cell phones outside, and they closed the door behind them. Secure, and completely safe from eavesdropping, Slash laid out the plan to the two men and left nothing out. “What's gonna happen if this don't work?” Slash's second-in-command asked after he'd finished speaking. “What if he don't slip up and you can't go to the cops or his bosses on this, or whatever?” He shrugged. “Go to the press, then? That doesn't work, guess I'll take the deal.” “You can't take the fucking deal!” Tiny, red-faced, roared suddenly as he slammed his fist on the table. “That ain't gonna happen!” Lacey flinched back, eyes wide at the outburst. She'd never known Tiny to react that way to anything in the short time she'd known him. He'd never struck her as the type to yell and pound things with his fists. “What do you want from me?” Slash shouted back. “You want me to let the Battleborn get torn down to its foundation? With all my brothers beaten and in jail? I can do something about this!” “Not this, though!” Tiny shouted back. “You can't fucking rat!” “I'll turn informant in a heartbeat if it means you're all safe!” Slash shouted. “Hell, if it meant saving this club, I'd burn the whole goddamn town down!” Tiny backed off a little bit, hands up. Even Lacey took a step back. “Alright, dude,” Tiny said. “It's your

life, man. You do what you gotta do. You think you can keep the club together with this plan, you do it. Okay?” Slash nodded. “Let's put it to a vote.” Rat snorted. Up until now, he'd been keeping his mouth conspicuously shut. “There's like, I dunno, three of us, boss. Ain't much of a quarry.” “Quorum,” Tiny, Lace, and Slash all said at once. Rat blinked in surprise and shook his head. “Quorum. Whatever.” Slash seemed to ignore his objection, though. “Vote. Yay or nay.” “Yay,” Tiny said, raising his hand. Slash nodded, raised his hand. “Yay.” Rat frowned and shook his head. “Nah, man. I just don't like it. This Wayne guy's just a cop, like the rest of 'em. Don't care if he's a lawyer, or some shit. He's still just a fucking cop to me, and I don't trust him.” “Those in favor carry it, anyways,” Slash said. “Guess I'm gonna go meet this asshole, and put the plan into motion. You two stay and protect her, alright?” “Yeah,” Tiny replied. “We got her.” Slash pushed back from the table. Lacey scrambled after him as he grabbed his vest and left the room. “Slash, wait a second.” “What's up, babe?” he asked as he scooped up his cell phone from the little basket just outside the room and stuffed it away in a pocket. “I just, I wanted to tell you to be careful. Okay? And don't trust him.” “I know. I will be, and I won't.” They embraced again, one last time before he left. He held her against him, his strong arms encircling her like a ring of protection and security. “I love you,” he said, just louder than a whisper. “I love you, too,” she whispered back. She stood up on tiptoes and kissed him. “I still wish you'd take me with you, though. I don't like this, Slash.” “We went over this,” he said, squeezing her one last time. “I can handle Wayne, okay? I'll be back soon, alright?” Then, he was letting her go and heading out the front door. She watched him as he left. She didn't like this, not one bit. Not only did she worry that he'd bitten off more than he could chew, she didn't like this feeling of helplessness. Not after she'd been given a glimpse of what having control of her own life could be like.

But, maybe that it was her fate to be in one prison or another. Imprisoned by her fear of Wayne, imprisoned by her worrying over Slash trying to protect her. Every which way she turned, she seemed to see bars in front of her. Some effort by someone to control her. She clutched her hands into fists at her side and shook her head: no, something had to change.

Chapter 32 Slash It was a rare occurrence when Slash didn't enjoy the shortest of bike rides. This was one of those times. He could smell a change in the air, one that he didn't necessarily like. His palms were sweating, his head spinning. He'd spent his entire adult life fighting, sometimes even killing. His world was drenched in blood and violence. He'd done backroom deals, shady back alley trades, dead drop style cash for drugs. Hell, he had even become comfortable with it, years ago. He understood he had blood on his hands, and he even knew where the bodies were buried. He'd put some of them there, after all. This was different, somehow. He had to outsmart a man like Wayne. A man who lived by his wits, by his ability to speak and talk circles around the other man. Even with as much reading as Slash had done over the years, he knew that he was pretty much walking into a gun fight, armed with just a knife. This was a damned fool's errand, a Hail Mary of epic proportion. But, it was the only chance he had. He arrived at the park a few minutes early. He stayed on his bike for a moment and looked around, taking in the lay of the land. With school still in session, it was almost deserted. Most of the soccer moms were lined up in front of the elementary school waiting for their ankle biters, or busy at the grocery store picking up provisions for the weekend. A lone figure stood out by the small pond, about a hundred and fifty yards away, feeding ducks. The only car here was Wayne's white BMW, parked down at the far end from Slash's bike. The tinting on the windows was dark, almost black. At a glance, he couldn't even see inside. Wayne could have been sitting in there with a whole squad of cops, or a gun leveled at his head, and he wouldn't know the difference. It was now or never. He took out his cell phone, brought up the app that he'd downloaded for recording their conversation. It was simple, just a little record button that would save the recording to a digital file and immediately upload it to a cloud service somewhere off his phone. He was about to put the phone away, but then decided against it. He needed to send a message to Rat, to see how things were going with Lacey. He hated leaving her out of this, but he couldn't risk putting her in harm's way. He knew she didn't like it, that she was agitated with him for agreeing to meet with Wayne. If anything happened to her on his watch, he'd never forgive himself. Slash sent off the message to Rat, glanced around the parking lot one more time, then headed for Wayne's vehicle. It was time to have this meeting.

Chapter 33 Lacey Nervous and agitated, Lacey paced back and forth in the rec room. This was insane. She couldn't believe she’d let Slash run off on his own like this. He didn't know what Wayne was capable of. Even though they were friends years ago, he thought Wayne was just some prick in a suit. Slash thought that, as president of the Battleborn, he was some top dog on the street. But, Wayne was crazy. There was no telling what he'd do. She chewed at her thumb, gnawing away at the tip as she tried to think of what she could do. She had an idea, but she didn't know if it would work or not. She remembered seeing some sleeping pills in Slash's medicine cabinet when she'd been rummaging for some face wash. Maybe, if she could get the guys to have a drink with her, she could slip one of them, or both, a mickey. She looked furtively back over her shoulder at Tiny and Rat, who had returned to their seemingly genteel game of pool. “Come on, man,” Rat said as he chalked the tip of his cue, “you can't make that shot.” “Boy,” Tiny said, grunting as he leaned down over the pool table and got a bead on the eight ball with the cue ball, “don't tell me what I can and can't do. This shit's child's play.” Rat barked out a laugh. “Believe it when I see it.” “Hey guys,” Lacey said. Tiny and Rat glanced her way, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, girl?” Tiny asked. “I'm gonna head back to Slash's bunk. Try to read or something, take my mind off things.” “Alright,” he said, nodding. “We'll keep an eye out for Slash. Either of us hear anything, we'll let you know, okay?” “Yeah,” she said. “Okay.” She left them in the rec room and went back to Slash's bunk. She went into his bathroom and to his medicine cabinet. Only, they weren't there. “Shit,” she swore to herself, slamming the medicine cabinet shut. She leaned down and began to dig through the drawers just below the sink. They had to be here somewhere! Outside in the rec room, there was a loud yell. “Goddammit, Rat!” She stopped and cocked her head. It was Tiny, probably yelling about Rat snaking the winning shot out from underneath him, or some other crap. Even before the rest of the guys had been locked up, those two had been at each other's throats over little competitive games like cards and pool. As far as Lacey could tell, it just seemed to be part of their natures that they were both competitive.

She went back to digging around in the drawers. Nothing in the first one, just an empty bottle of aftershave an old, half-filled canister of shaving cream. She slid it shut and went onto the second. There was a loud thud, then a door slammed. Probably Tiny going off to his room to have a drink in some peace and quiet. She wasn't too worried about it. Just meant she'd only have to drug one of them. And, quite frankly, she didn't mind drugging Rat. He was kind of an asshole, if she was being honest. At the bottom of the second drawer, she found the half-filled bottle of sleeping pills with Slash's given name typed out on them. She gave them a shake and closed up the drawer. She didn't know why he had this prescription, but she knew they'd work pretty well for what she wanted. A few years back, she'd had the same thing prescribed to her by her doctor after Wayne had mentioned she seemed to have problems sleeping. At the time, she'd wanted to scream at him, “No asshole! I just don't want to sleep next to you!” She pocketed the bottle of pills and closed up the medicine cabinet, then headed back out towards the rec room. Rat was still in there, picking up pieces of a broken pool cue from the ground. “Woah,” Lacey asked as she came around to his side of the table. “What happened?” He shook his head. “Tiny got all pissy when I won,” he said in a frantic and frustrated voice, “and stormed off to his bunk. You know how he gets sometimes, acts like a real goddamn asshole of a sore loser. Big time, you know.” “Oh, I'm sorry. But, hey, would you like another beer?” she asked, gesturing to his nearly empty one sitting on the table. “I'm going to grab one, and I hate to drink alone.” “Sure,” he said, perking right up as he collected the last of the pool cue and took it over to the table. “That'd be great,” he added over his shoulder. She didn't like doing this. The guys here were rough, but who among the Battleborn wasn't? To join an outlaw gang like this, you had to, pretty much by definition, be a social outcast and misfit. It didn't necessarily make someone like Rat a bad person, or mean there was anything wrong with him. He was just an odd duck, as her father would say. Lacey went into the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge. She twisted off the tops and set them down on the counter, then went and rummaged for a spoon. She pulled the pills out, shook a few into her hand, and stuck the pill bottle back in her pocket. She set the little blue pills on the counter top and, with the back of the spooning bowl, began to crush the pills into a fine powder. She pulled out the bottle and checked the recommended dosage again. Just one pill. Lacey screwed up her face and bit the inside of her mouth. Okay, five pills. That should be more than enough to knock him out, and make it last. She finished crushing the rest of the pills till she'd hit her quota, then slowly and deliberately brushed the narcotic dust into the mouth of the beer bottle. The powder dissolved easily, and mixed well with the drink. Then she very carefully picked up the laced drink in her left hand, and made sure her intended beer was in her right. Satisfied she knew the difference, she headed back out into the rec room. First, she'd dose Rat. Then, when he was groggy enough for her to slip away, she'd go find Slash and help him figure

this out. She just hoped Tiny wouldn't wake up while she was trying to make her getaway. She didn't know if she had enough pills to dose a man his size. “You wanna play another game of pool or something?” she asked as she put the beer in her left hand down in front of him. She gave him a big, friendly grin. “Promise I won't break the stick when I lose.” He returned her grin so wide she could see those bad and missing molars of his near the back. “Sure thing, little lady. Love to.”

Chapter 34 Slash With his cell phone set to record and stashed away in his pocket, Slash headed to Wayne's white BMW. Gravel and rocks crunched beneath the heels of his biker boots with each step. This was the moment of truth. The moment everything depended on. He still hadn't received a text message back from Rat, but he could understand that. Rat and Tiny were probably throwing darts or playing a hand of cards, and he just hadn't heard. It wasn't a big deal, either. He and Tiny were brothers in the MC, after all, and Slash trusted both men with his life, and with Lacey's. Besides, he couldn't worry about that stuff now. He needed to stay focused, needed to keep his eyes on the prize. He realized, as he walked up to Wayne's little sports car, that something was wrong. Now that he could see better through the heavily tinted black windows, he began to see that no one was in it. He stopped next to the car's passenger side door, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. That wasn't right. Where could Wayne be? He frowned and looked around the park, a wave of uneasy confusion washing over him. He looked out to the pond, to the indistinct figure out there feeding the ducks. Could that be him? He frowned and shook his head. He could image Wayne doing a lot of different things, but feeding the ducks wasn't one of them. As he stood there, though, he heard something. A faint, distant sound, like the jingling and singing of wind chimes just beyond the edge of his hearing. He stood still, very still, and held his breath. It was coming, he realized, from inside the car. He leaned down to the passenger window and, cupping his hands around his face to block the glare, peered inside. There, resting in the middle of the driver seat, was a cheap burner phone that was lit up, ringing. He didn't see a red light on the dashboard, or anything, to mark the car as having the alarm turned on. He straightened up, shaking his head, and walked around to the driver side. He tried the door, but it was locked. He looked around the park again, to make sure it was still as deserted as it had been, then put his jacket-clad elbow through the window. The sound of shattering, tinkling glass filled the air as Slash brushed away the jagged edges of glass and reached inside to unlock the door. The phone, meanwhile, continued to ring without pause. He picked up the phone. On the front of it was a local number, keyed to the contact name “Oldest Friend in the World.” His stomach dropped. Wayne. At least, a name like that as the contact seemed to match his sick sense of humor. This felt like a setup, like a trap of some sort. He needed to get Wayne on the phone, one way or another. He answered the phone and pressed it to his ear. “You're late, Dustin!” Wayne chirped on the other end of the line, with that normal, amoral and upbeat attitude of his. “Figured you would have found this phone a little while ago. Oh well, time moves on without us, with no care for our feelings one way or another. Am I right? Or am I right?” “Thought I was acting in good faith when you dragged my ass out here, Wayne. What the fuck happened

here? Thought you and I were doing this meet face-to-face.” “Good faith?” Wayne asked into the phone. All the false sanity had been dropped from his tone of voice. Now, he just had that cruel streak running through it. “Just like all the good faith I put in you all those years ago, you miserable piece of shit? Faith when you tried to steal my girl?” If this was how he wanted to play it, then so be it. Slash shook his head and pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and held it up so it could record their conversation. “Look,” Slash said, “I admit it. I fell in love with her, and I told her about it. Is that why you came after my MC? Why you came after the Battleborn?” “I came after you because you're all criminals, through and through. I wanted to see you all behind bars, because that's where scum like you belong.” “That why you beat Lacey, then?” Slash asked, trying to steer the conversation towards something more incriminating. “Why you abused her for so long?” “What?” Wayne said. “Who told you that? I love her. Everything I've ever done was for her. It was for our life together.” Slash sighed. No luck on that front. “So, do you still want to do this deal, then? Me testifying against the Lightning Kings in exchange for immunity for me and my club?” Wayne laughed. And laughed. And laughed. “Testify against the Lightning Kings? Who are they, some other biker rejects?” “You said-” “Let's get this clear, Dustin,” the assistant DA cut him off, the words practically slithering out of his mouth, “I'm going to bring you down, and I'm going to bring the rest of your crew down with you. I know you've been protecting Lacey, and that's fine. I'm glad you have, even. She means the world to me.” “I've been protecting her from you, you son of a bitch.” “That's just what she wants you to think, Dustin. Deep down, she knows I love her, and that her life is with me. Her future is with me. That's why she chose me all those years ago, and not you. And, that's why you've come back into our lives and stolen her away from me. You want your revenge, you want to ruin my life.” “What? No-” “You showed up on our wedding day, Dustin,” Wayne chided. “Everyone knows it, people saw you. A bride was seen riding away on the back of a chopper being ridden by a man matching your description. Same vest, same paint job, same everything. You stole her from me, but I'll get her back. I promise you.” Somehow, in Wayne's twisted mind, he'd flipped the script around. He'd convinced himself he was the hero. Either that or he knew he was being recorded, and that Slash was trying to trip him up and admit

guilt, some other piece of incriminating evidence. But, how could he know? “Just remember, Dustin, you're not always around. One of these days, she'll pick up her phone when I call. Hell, she's probably there alone right now. I think I'll just call her, or maybe swing by. I'm just around the corner, anyways.” Slash shook his head, pounded his fist on the roof of the white BMW. He was nearby. This had all been a setup to get him away from the clubhouse. “No, you son of a bitch,” he yelled into the phone. “You keep away from her?” “Away from the woman who'd already agreed to marry me?” Wayne asked like Slash was daft. “I just want to talk to her, Dustin. There's no harm in that, is there?” Slash could hear that cruel smile of his coming through in his words. He clearly planned on more than a little chat. But, thank God, Rat and Tiny were still there. They'd keep her safe, or die trying. “Probably won't stick around to say hello. But, maybe, just maybe, Lacey will want to come back home with me. If I can convince her, you know. But, I'm going to really take her on a trip down memory lane, first, maybe change her mind. Fingers crossed on that. Once she sets herself to something, she's more stubborn than a mule.” He paused and laughed. “But, hey, you love who you love, for whatever reason. Am I right, Dustin? Or am I right?” Fuming, seeing red, Slash hung up the phone. He sprinted back to his bike, clearing the parking lot in no time flat.

Chapter 35 Lacey They'd already gotten about half-way through their game and Rat still hadn't touched his beer. It was maddening, and she was having a hard time being inconspicuous by checking the progress on his drink. Finally, she decided she needed to come up with a different plan. Something else that was maybe more direct. Maybe she could make him a sandwich or something, and slip it into that? Or, some other bit of lunch? She gripped her pool cue tighter, twisted her hands on it, and shook her head to herself. That wasn't going to work, not at all. She took another drink of beer, hoping the alcohol would calm her nerves. “Your shot, little lady,” Rat said, walking around to her side. “What am I again?” she asked, feigning ignorance. “Stripes,” Rat said with a sigh. She'd already asked two times before. She walked around to the other side and, cue in hand, leaned down to line up her shot. She needed to hurry up and get him drugged somehow, but she was out of ideas. The drugged beer had been her moonshot, her plan so crazy it might just work. But now she decided, as she shot the cue ball into a nine up against the rail, her original plan wasn’t going to carry through. She also realized, as the nine bumped off the rail in a completely unintended direction, that she kind of sucked at pool still. “Your shot,” she said as the nine rolled to a final stop in the middle of the table. She walked back around the table to her old spot. She grabbed her beer, grumbled to herself, and slammed back the last of it in frustration. She kept her empty and went to head into the kitchen. “Grabbing another beer?” Rat asked. “Yeah,” she said. “You need one?” “Hardly touched mine,” he said, holding up his beer. He shrugged and offered it to her. “Not in much of a drinking mood. Why don't you just take mine? Hate to see it go to waste.” Her eyes flickered from his to the beer. She shook her head a little. “No, I'll just grab another one.” “Think I got cooties, or something? Didn't even take a sip of it.” She shook her head, laughed a little. “Well, it's kind of warm, isn't it?” “Not really,” he said, running the tip of a finger through the condensation gathered on the side. “Still near as cold as when you pulled it out.” “Well, I wouldn't want to take your beer,” she said quickly. “That's all.”

“Does seem a touch rude,” Rat replied with a laugh as he nodded his head. “Know what's really rude, though?” he asked as he took a step forward. “Lacing somebody's drink. Lacey laced my beer. Didn't she?” “What?” she asked, furrowing her brow and trying to pretend to be shocked by the accusation. “Little lady,” he said, taking another step forward, “you think I don't know when my beer smells funny? I been drinking that piss for years. Years, I tell you. Now, here. Have my beer.” Her eyes widened in surprise, and she shook her head. She put her hands out in front of her, defensively, and took a step back from the advancing biker. Rat advanced. “Know who else wants you to take a drink? Mr. Walker does, that's who.” Wayne? What did he have to do with this? “No. No, no, no,” she said, the words tumbling from her mouth like a waterfall as she backed away. “Don't worry, you made it easy on yourself. Instruction from him was to beat you black and blue if I had to. Said he didn't care one bit. Enjoy myself even. I ain't no woman beater, though.” She backed into a chair, almost stumbled to the ground, but managed to stay upright and kick it away. She lost her grip on the empty beer bottle, and it tumbled to the floor and shattered. “Rat!” she shouted. “What are you doing? You can't be working for him! You're a Battleborn!” “Known his daddy for a while, but Wayne's got me working for him, now, little girl.” With beer in hand, he advanced on her double-time, corralling her back into a corner. She stopped as her back and heels hit the wall with a soft thud. In the understatement of year, this was not going the way she'd planned in the beginning. “Rat, please, you can't do this. What about Slash?” “What about him?” Rat asked with a shrug. He advanced, coming closer and closer with each step. “Now drink.” Tiny could help her. That was it. “Tiny!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Help!” “Tiny!” he screamed right along with her, his voice pitched to a false falsetto as he waved his hands around in a mockery. “Help!” The biker just laughed, laughed so loud and freely she could see his mouthful of rotted teeth. “Oh, little girl, he ain't gonna here you. What do you think that broken pool cue was all about? I knocked that fat bastard out when you went to Slash's room, then locked him in his bunk.” Lacey's hope began to fly away, just like a bird released from a cage. Her eyes began to fill with tears, clouding her vision. “What kind of man are you?” she sobbed. “You're a fucking monster!” “Gotta make a living somehow,” he said. “Now, drink.” He edged closer. She could see every little piece of stubble on his chin, every individual hair. If she'd kept the pool cue, she would have had something to defend herself with. If she'd managed to hold onto the

empty beer bottle, she could have protected herself. Now she had nothing. Just her tears, and her obstinacy. “No,” she sobbed, shaking her head. “I won't.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Didn't wanna do this,” he said, mild regret in his voice. His hand shot out, fast as lightning, and slapped her hard across the mouth. Pain flashed in the jaw, the kind of pain she'd almost grown used to under Wayne. More tears filled her eyes, but this time she knew they were tears of anger. She cried out as she stumbled to the side with the force of the blow, but she picked herself upright. Rat closed in on her, shoving her backwards as he swept her legs out from under her. She went down in a thudding tangle of limbs, tears streaming down her face. She looked up, saw the blurry form of the biker standing over her, the beer still in hand. She drew herself away from him, curled up into a fetal position to try and protect herself from the rain of kicks and punches she'd grown to expect. Instead, he reached down and pulled her over onto her back. He came down on top of her, straddled her chest with his superior weight. She struggled against him, kicking and screaming now, as he snatched up a flailing wrist with one hand. She tried to fight him, but his grip was like rebar around her arms. With one knee, he pinned her wrist to the rec floor. Calmly, he switched the beer from one hand to the other and grabbed her clawing hand. “Stop it, little girl,” he yelled through gritted teeth. “Only gonna hurt yourself more, you keep fighting this.” She reached up for his face, her fingers searching for his eyes. Rat grabbed her hand, yanked it back down to the floor, and slammed his other elbow into it. She screamed out in a surprised yelp of pain, and he took the opportunity to pour the laced beer into her mouth. She sputtered and shook her head, spraying the beer everywhere in a fine mist. He grunted and slapped her again, harder this time. “Open your mouth,” he yelled. “Open it!” Spilled beer covered her face, soaked her hair, and had gone down to the front of her shirt. It filled her nose, gagging her. “Open it!” he yelled again. She clamped her lips together and shook her head from side to side. He reached down and pinched her nose, shutting her nostrils. She screamed in closed-mouthed protest, her wordless yell like a trapped animal. She thrashed violently, trying to buck him off, but it was no use. He was too big, too heavy for her. His fingers and thumbs were like a vice, gripping her nose closed, shutting off her air. “Come on, little girl,” he drawled. “Just one drink.” Finally, she gasped out, desperate for breath. He took his opportunity when he saw it. He shoved the beer bottle to her lips and began to pour. Lacey struggled and gagged as the cold, acrid-tasting liquid flowed

into her mouth and filled it. She choked on it at first, but even choking on it wasn't a defense. She could feel it flowing down her throat, slowly making its way to her belly. With most of the beer gone, Rat took the bottle away from her mouth. He stayed on top of her, though, and kept her hands pinned by her side. She shook her head some more, tried to gag herself. Without any free fingers to stuff down her throat, she knew that was almost impossible. The worst part, though, was that the struggling with no air had already helped her earlier beer along. She could feel herself becoming lightheaded, detached from this world and its worries. A sense of warmth and blessed confusion was filling her body. “There you go,” Rat said, his voice almost congratulatory. Before she could think to close her mouth again, he was pouring the last of it down her throat. She hated herself suddenly for not having tried harder. She should have just run out the front, and not tried to do this foolish ruse. If she had, maybe she would have been miles from her. After all, it had worked with her wedding, hadn't it? Time as a concept seemed to fade, and the world simultaneously slowed to a crawl and seemed to rush past her. Rat stayed on top of her, though, his eyes fixated on Lacey's as hers began to droop and shut. There was no shame or anger, or even a will to fight. No Wayne Walker, no Dustin Riley or his alter ego Slash, and no Battleborn. A moment later, just before her world went dark, she heard a familiar voice. “She out?” the voice asked. “Yes sir, Mr. Walker,” Rat replied. “Good.” Then, the sound of a gunshot, followed by three more in rapid succession. “Slash never should have trusted a rat.” After that, there was just blessed darkness, and deep, unbroken sleep.

Chapter 36 Slash Slash slammed into the front door of the clubhouse at a dead sprint. He hoped against hope that he wasn't too late. He still couldn't believe he'd been tricked so easily by Wayne, been conned into letting his guard down like this. He shoved through the doors, and the old, familiar smell of gunpowder filled his nose. He ran through to the rec room, calling for Lacey, Tiny, Rat, anyone. Only silence answered him. He rounded the corner into the rec room, his feet pounding the floor, and came to dead stop. He looked around, eyeing everything, until his gaze fell on a crumpled form sitting up against the wall. Rat. Slash called out to him as he ran over, but it was clear even from this distance that he was dead. His shirt was covered in blood from a group of tightly spaced gunshots in his chest, and a long languid trickle began at the corner of his mouth and ran down his neck. Sticky thick blood covered his hands, had pooled around him on the tile. Just beyond him lay an empty beer bottle, tumbled over on its side. “Rat?” Slash asked again as he knelt down next to the corpse. No response from the cracked lips. No blink from the cool, glassy gaze of the eyes. Slash stood up, leaving his brother there, and went over to the bottle. He picked it up, smelled it, wrinkled his nose in disgust. There was something off about the beer, a kind of smell that was too skunky to be just beer. He took the bottle and went over to one of the tables in the rec room, set the empty down, and looked at the shattered beer bottle there. Almost no liquid was mixed on the tile with the shattered amber glass. So, it had been an empty, too. Next, his eyes glanced up to the pool table. Two cues leaned precariously up against the side. That was a particular pet peeve of Tiny's. He hated it when you leaned the sticks like that, complained about how it warped them over time. It looked like Wayne and whoever was with him, had come in during the game. They'd struggled, maybe? Rat hadn't given up, so Wayne had him executed? That would explain the broken bottles, and the flipped over chair next to the table. Slash shook his head. Something about this whole setup seemed off to him. He walked over to the pool table, tapped the nine ball and sent it into a nearby pocket. Whoever had been playing had just barely missed. But, then a thought occurred to him. Where the Hell was Tiny? Surely, Wayne wouldn't have taken him along with Lacey. Would he? That was when he heard it. A muffled pounding, back in the bunkhouse. He picked up one of the pool cues from where it leaned against the table and, grasping it in both hands like a makeshift club, headed off to the find the source of the noise. The noise grew louder as he stalked down the hallway, deeper and deeper into the bunks. A thudding, thumping sound like a shoulder or a boot on the wall. It could be Tiny, locked away by Wayne for whatever reason. Or, hell, it could be one of Wayne's men. If he had men, of course. He gripped his cue tighter, his knuckles white, as he crept down the hallway. As he got closer to the source, he realized it was coming from Tiny's bunk. He padded down the silent

hallway till he reached just short of Tiny's door. “Tiny?” he called, his voice booming in the tomb-like silence. There was more thumping and bumping, clearly on the other side of the door. Slash reached out with one hand, the pool cue still gripping the other, and twisted the nob. He flung the door back and stepped away, ready in a heartbeat to start swinging at whoever came out. Nothing burst out at him, though. Instead, there was a muffled cry for help from just inside his second-incommand's room. “Slash?” At least, that's what he thought he heard. He poked his head in through the door, taking it in slices, and looked around. There, tied up in a chair with a gag in his mouth, was Tiny, his eyes open and pleading for Slash to untie him. “Goddammit, Tiny,” Slash muttered as he tossed the cue aside and drew his pocket knife. He went over and tore the gag off began cutting the bonds from his wrists. “Slash, man,” Tiny said, “I'm so fucking sorry. That bastard Rat attacked me and must've put me in here.” “Rat?” Slash asked. “Rat did this to you?” “You'd just left, and Lacey had gone back to your room for something, then all a sudden Rat just starts wailing on me with his cue stick,” he said as rubbed his tender, previously constrained wrists. “Messed up my leg and beat me unconscious. Woke up in here, all tied up. Heard some gunshots, then a bunch of guys talking.” “They got Lacey,” Slash said, cutting right to the point, as Tiny leaned down and started to untie the bonds around his ankles. “And Rat's dead, shot to death.” Tiny glanced up at him, winced, and shook his head. Slash returned the look. Rat had been there brother, even if he had ended up being a real rat in the end. “So it was all bullshit, then? The meeting, all that?” “Wasn't even there,” Slash said, groaning. He wanted to curl up in a ball and die. Not only did they have the woman he loved, they'd killed one of his brothers. And he still didn't have any evidence to ruin Wayne. “Well,” Tiny said with a sigh, “not only all that. But, Wayne's got help.” “Help? Who? The cops?” He shook his head. “Lightning Kings.” Slash shook his head and ran a hand down his face. The LK. Shit. “How the fuck did he get them?” “Dunno,” Tiny said. “Are you sure?”

“Heard 'em through the walls, man. Recognized one of their voices. Who else is gonna have that many bikes with 'em?” “Any idea where they took her?” Tiny frowned and shook his head again. Slash turned and kicked the wall, putting a hole in. He cursed and wiggled the tip of his steel tip boot free. “Well, he did mention something. Dunno who he was talking to, but it sounded him important to him.” “What was it, brother? Anything can help.” “Something about Memory Lane.” “Like, taking a trip down it?” “Yeah, maybe.” Tiny shrugged. “I dunno.” The gears pulled together in Slash's head. Wayne had mentioned the same thing, or something similar, over the phone to him, towards the end of the conversation. Then, it clicked. What had been their most important experience growing up? Where had they all first met? “The old high school,” Slash said. “It's the only thing that makes sense.” “Really?” Tiny asked, making a face. “He'd go back there, you think?” Slash shrugged. “Got any better ideas?” Tiny grunted. “No. I just know the guy's an asshole.” “You said he's got the Lightning Kings with him, huh?” “Yeah,” Tiny replied “We can't get past all those guys. Can we?” he asked as he went to stand. Slash lunged forward and caught him, his reflexes fast as ever, as Tiny's leg gave out on him. “We?” he asked. “Ain't no way with that fucked up leg of yours.” “You gotta let me help, man,” Tiny said as Slash eased him back down into the chair. “This is as much my fault as anyone's.” “’Cause you let your brother-in-arms blindside you?” “Fuckin' A, Slash,” Tiny hollered. “Lemme help you, man.” “Fine, fine, just stop your yelling,” Slash said as he offered him an arm and helped ease him up out of the chair. “We'll think of something. Meantime, we better check to make sure the stash is intact. No telling what Rat spilled to Wayne.”

Tiny put his weight on Slash and slowly rose from the chair. Together, they crept down the hallway, back to the linen closet where they kept all the sheets and towels stored away. “Should be fine,” Tiny said. “I didn't hear any noise down this way.” “You know, old man,” Slash said as he opened the closet and reached inside, “them not coming over here is probably why you're still alive, old man.” On the right, just behind the door frame, was a small catch. He searched with his fingers, probing the area, until he found it. He pulled the latch till he felt a click, then shoved back a false wall they'd installed years ago. A small portal lead through the back. He glanced back at his second-in-command, just to check on him, then pushed through the stacks of towels and sheets, and into the small secret compartment. The Battleborn had built this room a couple years after Slash had joined up with the MC. He'd noticed while taking some measurements, and looking at the floor plans, that there was this small vacant space in the wall. Even if you were paying really close attention to the dimensions of the outside versus the inside, and really looking for a secret cubbyhole like this, you'd still have a real pain in the ass trying to find it. Together, they turned it into their stash, the place where they kept their guns, ammo, and other contraband. It was a good hiding spot, Slash thought. After all, what cop was going to look in the linen closet for a machine gun? He reached up and grabbed the pull cord for the single bare bulb that hung from the ceiling. It flared into brilliance, washing the small room with stark white light. Shotguns, submachine guns, handguns, rifles, pistols. They had it all, here, with crates and crates of ammo. All untagged, untaxed, and completely illegal. And, most importantly, it was more than enough to take down a small banana republic.

Chapter 37 Lacey Lacey didn't know how long she'd been out. Her sleep had been like a blanket of darkness, with no dreams or ideas of how she'd gotten there. All she knew about now was that her head was pounding, and the world seemed to move in slow motion behind her eyes. A slow spinning overtook her world, like she was laying back in the center of a merry-go-round and staring up at the sky. She didn't open her eyes, just squeezed them tighter and prayed the spins would go away. With her eyes still shut, she reached out with her other senses to try and get her bearings. The smell of mildew and damp filled her nose, and she could hear dripping water off in the distance. At least that was a start. She couldn't tell where she was, but something about the place, about the resonance of the area, just made her feel as if she were in an old building. Perhaps in a basement, or a cavern of some sort, like one of those old speakeasy tunnels from the 20s. She remembered going down into one on a tour, back when she was a teenager. All the bricks, and the lights, and that cloying feel of the damp on her skin. “You think she's coming to?” a man growled somewhere out there in the darkness, just beyond the edge of her senses. She didn't recognize the voice, but it reminded her of Slash or Tiny. It gave her the impression of cruelty, though. Like the man who spoke was the type of kid who plucked the wings off houseflies. “Nah, not yet,” another man replied. “Tired of this bullshit, yet?” the first man asked. “Long time ago, man. But, hey, this lawyer says he's gonna give us the run of the town. So, I'm fine sticking it out.” Silence, for a moment. “Think he'll give us a run of the girl, too?” the first man asked after a while. “Dunno if Walker will, or not,” the other admitted. “I like 'em to be awake, personally. They got more fire in 'em, that way.” One of them laughed as she drifted back into unconsciousness. This time, the dreams did come. Dreams of Slash, with his strong hands running over her naked body. Of the two of them riding on the back of chopper, ripping and roaring over the scenery. They rode together through the day, through the night. The stars and planets spun over their heads in a surreal symphony of celestial movement, like it was a choreographed dance composed for just them. Then, as the sun rose again, Lacey looked around and took in the sights. Except, now, the landscape had been transformed into a twisted hellscape. The world, all ashen gray and bright fiery yellow, seemed to burn. She asked Slash where they were, where they were going, but he didn't reply. He just kept riding. She pounded on his back, a feeling of dread filling the core of her being.

She hit him again, over and over. Finally, he looked back but it wasn't Slash, like she'd originally thought. Instead, it was Wayne's laughing visage. She screamed to herself, tried to realize it was just a dream. To not worry, to just wake up and be done with it. Some deeper voice within herself warned her against waking, stopped her struggles to come up from her slumber. Here, Lacey was safe. The world could pass her by, and she could wait for everything to be better. Because, here in the land of dreams, there was nothing to truly fear. Everything was nothing more than a figment of her drugged out imagination. Another voice whispered, in the world of the waking, that the nightmares were real.

Chapter 38 Slash “You're dead serious about this, ain't you?” Tiny asked as Slash piled up on the rec room table the last of the guns and ammo he'd selected. This was his fourth and final trip from the stash and he'd brought out every possible gun he thought he might use, along with a couple heavy duffel bags to haul all them in. “Should I not be?” Slash asked as he set a pump action twelve-gauge shotgun with a pistol grip on it. “Just looks like you're fucking Rambo, or some shit.” “At this point,” Slash said as he picked up one of the rifles and took it over to another, less cluttered table and began to break it down, “really wish I was.” “You scared?” Tiny asked as he set a hunting rifle, complete with scope and suppressor, down on the table next to him. “Fuck yes,” Slash said, glancing up. “But I get scared every time I go do something this stupid. Doubly, now, since Lacey's life is on the line, too.” “Scared is a good thing,” Tiny said. “Means you're ready to see tomorrow.” They'd had this little pre-war pep talk more times than Slash could count. Tiny was ex-military, Marines. You wouldn't have known it to look at him, but he was one of the best shots Slash had ever seen. “Gonna cover me, then?” “Looks like it,” Tiny said. Slash nodded. “We'll wait till after dark, which gives another hour or so.” “Dunno how many men they got, do we?” his second-in-command asked as he began to break down, clean, and oil the rifle with the kind of grace only hours and hours of regular practice can give you. Slash shook his head. “Doesn't really matter, does it? You'd be going in either way, wouldn't you?” He nodded. “I can't let anything happen to her. And, besides, Wayne needs this payback. Gonna be honest. I don't care if the Battleborn fall apart after this or not. I just want him dead.” “Fair enough,” Tiny said, nodding solemnly. “Soon as sunset rolls 'round, we'll head out.” “What're we gonna take? You can't ride out with your leg busted. 'Sides, we're bringing a whole goddamn arsenal with us.”

“Need something stealthy,” Tiny said, deep in thought as he cleaned out the barrel of the rifle with the long swab. “I was thinking we take my Prius.” “Quiet, and efficient,” Slash nodded at the joke Tiny had made in spite of the seriousness of what they were walking into. He stopped, though, and looked at Tiny. “Oh, shit, brother. You're serious, aren't you?” “Yeah,” Tiny said, locking the barrel back into the receiver. “You think of something that's quieter?”

Chapter 39 Lacey Lacey came to again in the darkness of her cell. She was more aware this time around, enough so that she realized it wasn't a jail cell, as such. More like a utility closet, in somewhere like a boiler room. She was laid out on a hard cotton cot with a scratchy pillow beneath her head, the kind you'd get at a cheap motel that had complimentary cans of roach spray in each room. She groaned loudly, put a hand to her head to try and stop the painful throbbing. “Ho, ho,” said one of the voices from earlier, “looks like girly-girl’s awake here.” “Oh, man,” added the other, “would you look at that? She is a fine piece, that's for damn sure. Even prettier awake.” She opened her eyes, groaning again as the weak light from a burning kerosene lamp shot up a flare of pain in her head. She could make out two barely visible forms standing against the wall, now. Both wore biker vests, like Slash's and Tiny's, but they were all the wrong colors. “Don't spook her now,” said one of the men, the one still up against the wall. “I ain't gonna spook her,” replied the one approaching her. “Gonna just take it real nice and slow, so she can get used to us. Like a scared kitten.” As the man came closer the door handle jiggled. Quick as could be, he came to a complete halt and shot upright. In two long strides, he was back at his old spot next to his friend. His buddy chuckled a little as the door creaked open. “Lacey?” a familiar voice asked as the form stepped into the room. “You feeling okay, sweetie? You waking up alright?” Wayne. Wayne Walker. Just as dapper looking as ever, clad in his perfectly tailored suit. She recoiled, her body instinctively curling up into a protective ball. “Go away,” she slurred. “Just, leave me alone.” “Well,” Wayne said soothingly. “I'll just come back in a little while, okay sweetie? Once you're feeling better, and not so loopy?” “Fuck off, Wayne,” she groaned. He turned to the two other men. “Keep an eye on her,” he snapped, before leaving the room again. The men followed him with their gazes till the door shut quietly behind him, then she felt as they swiveled

back to her. A grin began to grow on the face of the man who'd come closest to her, but the other man quickly slapped him. “Nah, dude,” he said. “Not this time.”

Chapter 40 Slash A moonless night fell over the small town. Slash and Tiny had scoped out the condemned high school before the sun went down, using binoculars to count men and map out routes. These were bikers, basically just goons, not military or even security guards. They were as undisciplined as any of the Battleborn would have been in the same situation, and neither men expected them to be too much of a worry if they were taken on individually. “You figure a trained soldier on guard duty like this,” Tiny had said while he was seated in the driver’s seat with Slash checking out the building, “can keep his attention for just a few hours at a time in a warzone situation. These guys can probably keep theirs fixed for what, maybe thirty minutes?” “I see one sneaking a drink from a flask already, Tiny.” “Clearly, they ain't seeing you as a threat. If they’re even expecting you at all,” “Would you? Hell, we knew Wayne was a threat, and look what happened to us.” “Good point, brother,” Tiny had said. Then, they'd waited till the sun went down. As it dropped below the horizon, they climbed out of Tiny's Prius and started to unload everything. A suppressed rifle for Tiny, his precious 30.06 that was dropped inside an AR-15 style body. For Slash, a pistol with a suppressor, extra clips of ammunition, and one homemade canister of tear gas he'd bought off some anarchist kid about a year back. He'd purchased two at the time, and used one as a gag during a hazing ritual. It had, surprisingly, worked pretty well. Almost too well, actually, and had ended up scaring off one of the prospects. He hadn't been able to find a use for the second one grenade until now. Then there were his knives. They hadn't nicknamed him Slash for nothing. As he crouched in a tangle of shrubbery near one of the side doors, with two Lightning Kings hanging out and nominally guarding it, he realized that this was the moment their assumptions about these guy's capabilities were going to be put to the test. Tiny was off in the distance, crouched up on a hill with a clear line of the sight on the building. He'd been a pretty stellar shot in his USMC days, and he'd kept up the practice over the years. But, if he was off by just a little bit, this could go very wrong for Slash, very quickly. As Slash crept through the brush, his blackened knife gripped in one hand, he prayed Tiny was as good of a shot under pressure as he was on the range. His eyes fixated on the two men, who were laughing and jostling back and forth, he crept closer. Tiny would be able to see him from this vantage point, and they'd agreed that it was up to him to start this little

shindig. Tiny fired. His rifle wasn't any louder than a cap gun, and all Slash heard was the sound of mosquito whizzing by. The man farthest from Slash reached up, almost idly, and put a hand to his neck. Even in the dim light, Slash could see the look of horror on his face as he pulled his bloody hand away and looked at it. His eyes were wide in terror, and he clutched his hand back to his throat as his partner stared in shock. The man Tiny had shot stumbled a little, landing against his buddy. His friend tried to steady him. “Dude? Dude! What the fuck, man? What happened?” Slash came up out of the bushes in a flash, his dark knife not even glinting in the low light. It was like cool black ice on a winter night as he came up behind the uninjured man and put a hand over his mouth, pulling him back into the bushes. The man screamed into his hand, but his wordless cry was muffled as Slash pulled him out of sight. He didn't bother speaking to him. Didn't bother threatening, or asking for information. He brought his knife up, cut deep into the man's throat, and slid it across in a horizontal arc. He opened up his jugular artery, unleashing a warm flood of blood, as he kept his hand clutched across his mouth. The man kicked, once, twice, and struggled for a long, tense moment before falling silent and ending his struggle. Slash had killed before. Sometimes, in this line of work there was a certain amount of murder that had to happen to get a point across, or to protect what was yours. This, though, felt personal to the Battleborn president. This man had been at least partly responsible for taking Lacey, whether he knew it or not. He dropped the fresh corpse to the ground, hiding him in the bushes. He slipped out, checked the man Tiny had shot, then pulled him back to join his comrade. With both of them hidden away, he gave a thumbs up to the unseen Tiny, and slipped through the side doors. On his way through, he glanced down at the concrete. A few drops of blood had splattered there, but nothing overtly noticeable. If anyone else came through, they'd just think the two guys had fucked off for a beer or something. Now in the hallway, he dropped to a crouch and listened. From here on, he was going to be alone with no cover from Tiny. Nevertheless, Tiny had his own part of the plan to carry out. He was to start dropping any singular out of the way Lightning Kings he happened to see. Maybe he could thin out the herd a little bit before word got out that Slash was in the building.

Chapter 41 Lacey “Sweetie?” Wayne asked, his voice high-fructose levels of sweet. If Lacey could have eaten his words, she would have gotten a cavity. “You feeling any better?” He was sitting on the cot, now, with his arms protectively over her. Behind him, the two men still flanked the doorway, their expressions a mix of dourness and boredom. She nodded. “Yeah.” “You almost ready to come home?” he asked, reaching out to brush the hair from her face. She flinched back again. “Wayne,” she said, “I don't know why you think I'd want to go home with you.” “Well,” he said, “because we love each other. We need each other. Isn't that right?” She shook her head. “No,” she said. “You don't get it, I left you. For Dustin.” He smiled and shook his head, laughing. “Oh, sweetie, he just had you fooled, like he has everyone fooled. He just wanted you to get to me, that's all. I started going after that biker gang of his long before our wedding, before you left me.” “Maybe that's true-” “No, it is true. Why do you think he was even coming to our wedding? To see you?” That much was true, at least. Damn him. She hadn't sent the invitation, and Slash was only coming because Wayne had had two of his guys arrested in twenty-four hours. She frowned a little, shook her head again. “Well, it doesn't matter why, he's been protecting me.” “Protecting you?” he asked, reaching out again to stroke her hair. In her confused state, she didn't see the hand coming. She felt his soft fingers stroke her hair, just like he used to when they'd first gotten together. Between the drugs and the confusion, she almost began to forget what this man had put her through. “Don't you mean keeping you locked up?” She slowly blinked her eyes. “That's not ...” But he had been, hadn't he? Every time she'd wanted to leave, Slash had fought tooth and nail to keep her in. Hadn't that been what made her the angriest with him? That she was being kept like a pet bird in a cage, just another cell? But, no, she needed to look at the source of the ideas going into her head. This was Wayne she was dealing with.

“He's a criminal, sweetie. A very, very bad man. And he's been keeping you because I was trying to do the right thing and protect you, and the town. Remember? I'm the good guy?” Okay, that part she knew was bullshit. He could lie to himself all he wanted, but that kind of shit wasn't going to fly with her. She brushed away his hand. He looked hurt as he retracted his hand. “If you're such a good guy,” she spat, “why the hell are you keeping me here with two guys who are talking about raping me?” His eyes went cold. Back to the same look he'd give her just before the beatings began. The old Wayne was back. With a vengeance. “What?” he asked, his voice almost a hiss. Before she could respond, though, he was up off the cot in a blur. His hand went inside his coat and came back out holding a chrome automatic pistol. With a shout, he shot both men between the eyes, one after the other. Lacey screamed, as her ears rang from the back-to-back blasts in the enclosed space. “See?” he shouted as he wiggled a finger in his ear. “I'm the good guy! They won't ever touch you, sweetie! You're all mine!”

Chapter 42 Slash Slash had been a lot of weird creepy places. Crack houses, cartel grow ops, meth labs, brothels, even back alley surgeries for the occasional stray bullet. But this place took the cake. Maybe it was because he'd spent forty hours a week here for nearly four years, but there was something about the big, sprawling building with its graffiti on the lockers, fallen ceiling panels, and broken beer bottles everywhere that gave him the heebie-jeebies as he pressed himself against the wall and made his way down the hallway. He stopped, his feet crunching on a piece of old dry wall, and listened. He heard voices ahead and, as he peered through the darkness, he could make it out the flickering light of something like a kerosene lamp coming out of one of the old classrooms. He held his breath, tried to listen more closely. “Walker ain't shit, man,” a gruff voice said. “Fucker thinks he's got us lock and stock on this, boys, but once he gets the rest of the money, we're gonna take care of him.” “Think we can really pin it on hem BB fuckers?” asked another man. “Hell, yeah, man. Slash is the only one still out. We take the money, take the drugs, then we kill Walker and blame it on Slash. Then, we move in and pick up the pieces, taking all their territory and business.” So, that was their plan. They were working for Wayne on this, but then they were going to double-cross him. If he just used the shadows to sneak by, the problem could take care of itself. Nothing screamed bad DA like being killed by a bunch of bikers over a bad deal. Of course, that would still leave the Lightning Kings out, running around, trying to pin everything on the Battleborn, and Slash in particular. The men inside the room laughed, and Slash counted three, maybe four guys inside. He gritted his teeth. Even with a surprise attack, that would be dicey to handle on his own. Plus, if they got a shot off, he'd alert anyone else still in the building. One of the guys inside the room piped up. “I say we take the girl back to the clubhouse when we're done with the DA.” “Yeah, chief, let's get the girl,” one of them added, excited. “We could keep her as a real clubgirl, like a pet or something. After a few nights, and some China White in her veins, we'll have her begging for all of us.” All the bikers in the classroom laughed cruelly, their voices filtering out into the hallway. “We get a collar and everything for her!” The men laughed again, encouraging him. Slash didn't hear the rest of their words. A spike of rage-fueled adrenaline entered his veins. His vision narrowed, his eyes clouded over. There was no way in hell these scumbags were going to touch Lacey. Not a fucking chance. Their words were a burble in the background, barely audible over the sound of rushing blood in his ears. He reached down and grabbed the canister of DIY tear gas off his belt and began to inch closer, along the wall. He got to the edge of the door, makeshift grenade in one hand, silenced pistol in the other. He pulled

the pin on the canister and banked the tear gas against the open door of the classroom, arcing it inside. Just like pool. “What the fuck?” one of the guys asked as the hissing can bounced one, twice, three times, before rolling to a stop in the room. Then, the coughing began. “Motherfucker! What is this shit?” Slash raised his pistol to chest height, gripped it in both hands, and took a deep, grim breath. The men came running out of the room moments later, uncontrollable tears streaming down their red, blistered faces. “Jesus fucking Christ!” one of them nearly yelled as he ran out into the hallway, his hands frantically rubbing at his face. He turned left, passed right in front of Slash. He was the first to go down, heavy as a sack of potatoes. A quick singular bullet to the head from the Battleborn president's silenced pistol. He was a human one moment, a corpse the next. The other men streamed out behind him, all with cries of confusion and shock coming from their lips. Slash dropped them all, one after the other, still not saying a word as he seethed with anger. “What the fuck?” the last man cried as he dropped to his knees. “What the fuck's going on?” Clearly, he could hear the shooting, but he couldn't respond in any meaningful way. He put his hands in the air, and sobbed. “Please, don't. I'm barely even with these guys.” Slash walked around him, still not saying anything, a cruel grimace on his face. He could see from the patch on his back that he was lying. He was a full member of the Lightning Kings. Granted, he didn’t recognize his voice as one of the guys who had joined in on the conversation regarding Lacey's fate. He put his pistol against the back of the man's head. He started to sob. “Please, man, I got a little girl at home. Lemme live, okay? Lemme live.” Slash sighed. Maybe the guy was lying, maybe he wasn't a father. He was still someone's son. Now, as Slash paused, the blood-rage subsided a little. He took the barrel of the pistol from the man's head. “Oh, man, oh thank you. Fuck, thank you so much!” he cried out, shaking his head from side to side, not believing his luck. Slash whacked him on the back of the head with the butt of his pistol, whipping him into unconscious with the big hunk of tempered steel. As the man dropped to the floor, he heard something else. It sounded like gunfire, like two shots fired one after the other. He looked around. It had come from one of the nearby air vents. He ran over to the closest one and put his ear against it. Screams drifted up from below the school, from the basement where they kept all the maintenance stuff. He knew that scream. Lacey. Slash scrambled, trying to find the door he knew was around here, the one that would lead him to the stairwell that would take him into the bowels of the school. He reached down to his belt, pulled out a mini Maglite he'd been avoiding using, and flicked it on. He ran down a hall, found it, and threw it open. In the pitch black, with nothing but a round of pure, white light to guide him, he took the steps two at a time, running over detritus and kicking bottles of out of the way.

“I'm coming, Lacey,” he breathed to the silent high school. “I'm coming, babe!”

Chapter 43 Lacey She slapped at Wayne's hands, trying to keep them off her. “Sweetie, honey, lovey,” he said, his voice saccharine sweet, as he tried to calm her down. “Calm down! I'm just trying to protect you! Trying to keep these goons off you!” “Get away from me!” she screamed in a shrill voice as she slapped at him harder, struck his face. He gave an exasperated sigh and stood up from the cot. “That's the way you want it, then?” he asked, his voice suddenly back to the old Wayne. “One last chance.” “Leave me alone!” she screamed. “Fine, bitch,” he said through clenched teeth. “You asked for it. Time to show you some respect.” He descended on her again, his hands not brooking any argument. He reached for her clothes, began to tear at them. She clawed at his hands, at his face, trying to keep him away from her. He was too strong, though. He gripped her wrist, twisted it out of the way. He slapped her with his open hand, right across the mouth. She cried out in pain, too shocked to fight back for a moment. With her hands not protecting her anymore, he reached down and grabbed the front of her shirt, began to tear it off her. He ripped the buttons off with effort, opening her to the cold deserted room. “See?” he asked, as he grabbed her other wrist and pinned it down to the cot. “This is what you get, sweetie.” She came back to her senses, began to scream again. When he'd torn her top open, he'd had to let one of her hands go. She lashed out with her suddenly free fist now, instead of just her nails, and caught the bastard in the eye. He recoiled, putting his hand to his face as he stumbled a couple steps back. He took his hand away and looked down at the smeared blood. She'd split open his brow, and he'd smudged a little trickle of his blood. “You fucking hit me,” he said, disbelief filling his voice. “You fucking whore!” he said, louder. “You fucking hit me!” Her eyes widened in fear as her hands came up to defend herself. “Lay another hand on me, you son of a bitch,” she swore despite her wavering voice, “and I'll fucking kill you. So help me God.” “Better start praying, then,” Wayne said, his voice cold as the arctic on a January night, “cause he's the only one that's going to help you.” He closed on her again.

She screamed back. “Fuck you!” If she was going to go out, she wanted to go out kicking, screaming, and standing up for herself.

Chapter 44 Slash He came out of the stairwell, the door banging and clanging against the wall. He shined his light around, searching, straining his ears. Somewhere, down the hallway to his left, he could hear the sounds of screams and struggling. Slash bolted down the hallway, splashing through puddles of water filled with needles, used condoms, and old cigarette butts. He had to stop every twenty feet or so and perk his ears up so he could make out the sounds. It was still there, the sound of a woman’s voice. Wherever Lacey was, she was down here. Finally, after what seemed like hours but had only been moments, he came to a screeching halt in front of an old custodian closet. Lacey screamed again behind the door. “Fuck you!” He tried the door. Locked. He threw his shoulder into it, but it wouldn't budge He tried again, but no luck. “No!” Lacey screamed again. “Fuck you, you stupid whore!” Wayne yelled. Slash drew back from the door, kicked at the spot nearest the door knob, but nothing. It must have been a steel framed door, one that wasn't going to break with any amount of kicking. Gripping his pistol in both hands, he stepped off to the side and fired two shots into the knob. The gunfire echoed through the hallway, setting his ears to ringing with its volume. The doorknob clattered to the ground with a clang and the door fell open. Yellow light from a kerosene lamp spilled out into the hallway. “Help!” Lacey screamed again as Slash rushed in. “Get off of me!” “Wayne!” he yelled as he barged into the room, pistol sweeping the room. He wasn't paying close attention and nearly stumbled over the two Lightning Kings corpses at his feet. When he looked up after catching himself, Wayne already had Lacey, half-naked with her blouse torn open, arranged in front of him as a human shield. In his other hand, he held a fancy-looking chrome-plated Kimber pistol, flashy but sort of weapon a rich kid who knew nothing about pistols would end up buying. “Let her go!” “Fuck you, Dustin,” Wayne shouted back, his gun waving back and forth a little. Blood trickled down from a cut on his right eyebrow. His face was a mask of rage, a twisted caricature of what he'd once looked like. “I'm taking her with me, and we're walking out of here.” “Slash,” Lacey sobbed, her hands up around Wayne's forearm at her neck. “Please, please, please,” she sobbed.

Slash clenched his jaw, gritted his teeth. He could kill Wayne right then and there. He knew it, and had no qualms or ill-feelings. But he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't hit Lacey in the process. And even if the odds were one-in-a-million that he'd hurt her, he still couldn't have pulled the trigger. Wayne didn’t know that though, so kept the gun leveled, kept it trained on the fucker like a magnet. “Back out slowly, Dustin,” Wayne said. “And let us leave.” Slash nodded, his eyes still very much focused. He had no intention of letting this piece of shit live. He’d let him walk out, for now. Slash had twelve bullets left, which meant he still had at least twelve opportunities to kill Wayne. “It's okay, Lacey,” Slash said as he began to carefully back out of the room. “Just keep calm. Alright, babe?”

Chapter 45 Lacey “Stop dragging your goddamn feet, you stupid bitch,” Wayne screeched in her ear as they made their way down the dark hallway. Ironically, it was probably safer that Slash was following them, since that meant they had some kind of light for Wayne to see by. She tried to keep calm, tried to keep her breathing normal. Slash was going to save her. She had to believe that. He looked like a professional, like he'd been saving people from hostage crises all his life, as he strode confidently after them. “You don't wanna do this, Wayne,” Slash said. “You're not gonna be able to pin this on me like you planned.” They stopped at a door that led off the hallway and opened up into a stairwell. Wayne pulled her back with him and they began to slowly climb the stairs, one step at a time. “Think I'm fucked?” Wayne asked. “I got a whole crew of guys, and they all want your head on a platter, Dustin. And they're gonna get it, too!” “The Lightning Kings?” Slash asked as he entered the hallway, his flat black silenced pistol still trained on them. “The guys you promised Battleborn territory to? The guys who ain't running to your rescue right now? You think I didn't take care of them already?” Wayne growled his frustration. She could tell from the way he was holding her, how tightly his hand was digging into her shoulder, that Slash was getting to him. All his plans were coming apart, all his machinations had had a monkey wrench named Battleborn thrown into them. “Fuck you,” Wayne screamed as they reached the top of the stairs and pushed out into the hallway. She realized then, as they backed slowly down the wide corridor, their feet brushing through the variety of detritus on the floor, that they were in the old high school. She idly looked down at the fast food wrappers, condoms, needles, empty spray paint cans that covered the old tile, and wondered for a moment at how long this old building had been this way. “You're going to let us leave,” Wayne said through clenched teeth. “You're going to let us leave, so we can be happy together.” Lacey almost burst out laughing. Somehow, she kept her mouth shut. Setting him off like that right now might get her and Slash both killed. Slash shook his head. “You know I can't do that, Wayne.” They turned down another hallway. “You know, Dustin, if you'd just left well enough alone, things would have been fine. Lacey and I would be happy and married right now.” “You really think I didn't try?” Slash asked. “You came after me and MC, you sent me the invitation to the

wedding. Not Lacey. You're sick, Wayne, you're sick in the fucking head.” They backed up against a door with a push bar, slammed through it into a big, wide open space. The auditorium. Where all this had started? The place where Slash had first told her about his feelings. Where Lacey had first caught a glimpse of the madness behind Wayne's eyes. Where Lacey had made the wrong choice, no matter what Slash said now. Wayne continued to drag her through the crumpled old newspapers, the flattened cardboard boxes, the broken glass, and empty beer cans. Right there, in the middle of the big, deserted gym, Wayne stopped them both. Slash came forward a couple steps, closing the gap a little, before finally coming to a halt, too. Lacey knew, deep down in the pit of her very being, at the core of her existence, that this is where it was going to end. Tonight. Right here. Where it had all started.

Chapter 46 Slash Slash glanced up at the ceiling of the auditorium. He needed to get Wayne's pistol out of commission and Lacey away from him somehow. The ceiling. He saw the beginnings of a half-cocked plan. Wayne's gun was a chromed up elegant version of the first pistol Slash had ever purchased, way back when, when he'd first joined the Battleborn. He'd needed a clean gun to go to the range on, something he could practice with. At the time, Tiny had told him how awful it was, that it was just a rich man's toy, but Slash had liked the feel of it. Tiny had been right, though. The damn thing was more unreliable than Wayne's sanity. Got a speck of dirt on it, it didn't work. Get a brand of bullets it didn't like, it didn't work. Hell, it seemed like if you even got it damp, it would cock up. He remembered one time he'd had the damned thing when they went out to do some shooting at the range while it was raining. Piece of shit pistol jammed more times on him that day than he could even keep track of. And Tiny, God bless the old bastard, laughed his ass off the whole time. Worst money Slash had ever spent, but the experience had been a valuable life lesson. Far above them, running through the rafters of the auditorium, ran a fire suppression system, one of those old ones with the water running through it. Slash knew it was up there because, one time during his sophomore year, some punk kid had put a lighter to one of those little knobs to see it would go off. And during a pep rally, no less. Now, with Wayne's pistol trained completely on him, Slash did the unthinkable. He raised his pistol, over his head. “Slash,” Lacey pleaded, “don't do anything stupid.” He glanced back down at Lacey's scared eyes, mentally crossed his finger and held his breath, and pulled the trigger. The bullet shot true and, with an angry hiss, the water pressure burst through the pipe and began spraying all over them. The school hadn't exactly been diligent about clearing the lines once they'd shut down the building. Dirty, stagnant, brackish water that smelled like something had died in it. But water nonetheless. Wayne laughed and shook his head, droplets of water cascading off the tips of his finally mussed hair. “Think a little water is gonna somehow trip me up? Make me lose my cool? Think you're funny or something, Dustin?” He hadn't thought that in the least. Slash shook his head. “No, it's already funny enough, even if you are holding my woman hostage.” “Your woman?” Wayne screeched. “Yours? Mine! Mine, you piece of shit! She's always been mine!” He leveled the pistol at Slash and pulled the trigger.

Slash blinked, prayed silently that his plan had worked. There was no sound of gunfire, no combustion of power, no bullet leaving the chamber. There was just a loud, disappointing click. Wayne looked down at his gun in confusion, gave it a shake. “Bullshit!” he screamed in frustration. “Tell you what,” Slash said, holstering his pistol, “since your toy ain't working, why don't we settle this like real men?” Wayne barked out a harsh laugh, the water still coming down on them like it was a five-alarm fire going. He shook his head and dropped his pistol to his side, but still held it and Lacey firm. He still needed her as a shield, it seemed. “What'd you have in mind, Dustin?” Slash slid a knife from its sheath. Its black metal seemed to glow, wet and dull from the dim light coming in through the dusty windows. There might not be a moon, but there were still stars in the sky. He tossed the knife down between him and Wayne. The blade splashed down in the water, and the assistant DA's crazed eyes settled on it. He looked from the knife up to Slash, then back again. He nodded, a sense of finality in the gesture, then released Lacey. Before he reached for the knife he growled and swung around and slammed the butt of his pistol into the side of her head, right on her temple. She went down like a bag of rocks, collapsing into the shallow water. “Lacey!” Slash called. “Bitch is fine,” Wayne said dismissively as he bent down and plucked the knife from the water. He gripped it like he had some inkling of what he was doing. “This is between you and me now, Dustin.” “Always been about the three of us,” Slash replied, frowning as he looked down at the knife in Wayne's hand. He drew another knife, a matching weapon to the one Wayne held, from the sheath on his thigh. “Hasn't it?” Wayne nodded as they began to circle each other. “It has. Long as I can remember. You were always there, Slash, even in our bedroom before she became such a fucking bitch to live with. I could always feel you, feel her want for you.” “That why you wanted to destroy me, then?” Slash asked as he backed away from Wayne, drew him out and away from Lacey. “You wanted her to think I was complete trash, so she'd forget about me?” Wayne came closer, a few cautious steps at a time. “Something like that,” he said, lunging point first at Slash as he said the last word. Slash danced out of his way, sidestepping him. In America, he'd found that people don't respect knives the way they should. Everyone thought guns were the pinnacle of weapon technology. Knives, though, could be even more deadly, more brutal than any gun. “Hasn't worked out as you planned, has it?” Slash asked, lunging forward. He caught Wayne under the

arm, slashed a nice little slit in the sleeve of his fancy suit. “Has it?” he asked again. “Now she'll just have to cry over your corpse,” Wayne said, lunging forward. Slash jumped back, but he was too slow and cocky. He left his leg extended a little too far, and Wayne got him in the meat of his thigh. He went down under the pain, his leg nearly buckling. Wayne was over him in a flash, like a natural born predator. His knife flashed in his hand, going straight for Slash's chest. Slash caught his wrist and held the blackened blade at bay. He struggled against Wayne's arm, his teeth gritted in a grimace. For a lawyer, he was certainly strong. Slash was holding the knife back from his ribs, but just by a hair. “Don't fight it, Dustin,” Wayne said as he brought up his other hand to back him up. He shoved hard, and Slash slipped in the water. The president of the Battleborn fell to his back, with Wayne following right after him. He strained with every fiber of his being, silently cursing his cockiness and self-assuredness. He never should have gotten tripped up like that, never should have been in this position. Teeth bared like a wild animal, Wayne put all his weight on the tip of the blade, driving it against Slash's exhausted arms. Slash pushed against him, tried to inch the blade away, but as much as he struggled the blade still shifted down towards him, towards his heart. Wayne put in one last push, droplets of water shaking off his hair and landing on Slash's face. The knife came closer. Closer. Marching like time. It pressed into Slash's chest, the sensation searing and hot as it slowly parted his skin and began to draw blood. Slash grunted as the fiery pain erupted. It was no use. He felt his arms about to give way. This was it. This was the end. “Fuck you, Wayne!” a woman's voice screamed from above them. Wayne blinked rapidly, and Slash felt him release his strength. The assistant DA turned his head to the side, distracted. Lacey stabbed him in the throat with the jagged stump of a broken wine bottle. It happened so fast it almost seemed to Slash like it had just sprouted from his neck. Wayne reached up, touched the remains of the glass bottle, and ran his fingers along its smooth, wet surface for a moment. He stood, a confused look in his eyes, and tried to speak. Nothing came out but a bloody burble of surprise as he fell back. He coughed again. Then, he was still as a grave as the water continued to pour down over them all. Slash got up on his elbows, raised himself up and looked around. “Slash?” Lacey sobbed, tears running down her face. “Slash, baby, are you okay?” She came running over and crushed herself to him, still sobbing as he wrapped his arms around her. “I'm fine, babe,” he replied, running his hand over her wet hair, “I'm fine.” “I love you,” Lacey whispered before kissing him hard on the lips.

He broke their kiss, touched her face. He'd never seen a more beautiful one in his life, even if it was covered in tears. “Oh God, I love you, too, babe,” he whispered. “I love you, too.” # # # Slash and Lacy stumbled out to Tiny's Prius. They'd taken a few moments inside to ‘clean up’ the crime scene. Slash put his clean unregistered pistol in Wayne's hand and fired it a few times, then wiped down the champagne bottle. With any luck, when the cops came calling, they'd find a crazed scene, maybe a deal gone wrong. Whatever it was, it would lead back to Wayne. All of it. Tiny was in the car, waiting for the two of them to get in. “Lacey,” Slash said, squeezing her hand. “I ... I just wanted to let you know ...” “Spit it out, Slash,” she said, smiling up at him. He sighed and shook his head. He didn't know how to do this, how to offer this to her. His tongue felt all twisted and tied up. He took a deep breath, tried again. “I have enough money for you to buy a ticket. A ticket anywhere in the world.” Her mouth fell open a little as she just shook her head. “You're not getting rid of me like that,” she said flatly. “Getting rid of you?” Slash asked, a little shocked she'd think that. “You think I'm trying to get rid of you?” She slipped her hands around his waist. “What are you trying to do, then?” “Give you an option out,” he said. “A way to leave this place.” “But, I like this town. And I love you.” She put her arms around his neck as she stood up on tip toes. She drew his lips down to hers. “Why would I ever want to leave?”

Chapter 47 Lacey The year passed by in a flash. When all the papers and news programs covered the story, they kept Lacey more or less out of it. She was mentioned as the ex-fiancée, but the cops ruled her out as a suspect early on. The papers didn't even mention the Battleborn or their quiet release as their lawyer Mitchell Sherman petitioned for them one-by-one. The courts, and the cops alike, were more than happy to put as much distance between themselves and the memory of Wayne Walker. To put it mildly, it had become a real shit show down at city hall. As Slash drifted off to sleep next to her, her naked body pressed against him in their bedroom at their new home and she thought back over how things had changed in the last year. She was back in school, working on her Master’s degree. She was going to help women who had been abused like she had. Fresh B & B now had two locations, and the Battleborn were completely out of their previous illicit trades. Smiling, she rolled over to face her man. And, of course, the sex was still amazing. Even this last time, five minutes before. Life couldn't have been better. Of course, one other important thing had changed, too. “Hey Slash,” she whispered. “Yeah, babe?” he asked, pulling her closer to him. “I have something to tell you.” “What's up?” he asked, turning to face her. She smiled sweetly and leaned into kiss him. “You're going to be a daddy.” He grinned from ear to ear and kissed her again. “Really?” he asked, as excited for the future as she was.

THE END

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