Shift (The Disciples Daughters - Drew Elyse

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To Margarita - My Pancake Because this book has all the references that I know you’ll get. And because I missed our 10-year best-friendaversary, so the 11th will have to do.

FIVE YEARS AGO “You can’t be serious.” I said the words, but looking at the girl in front of me, I could tell she was. My Ash was reserved. Her emotions were always hiding beneath the surface. They broke through only sometimes.

In that moment, her desperation wasn’t hidden at all. “It’s dangerous,” she insisted. I tried to stay calm, to reason with her. “Ash, babe, just last week you were as excited as I was about me getting a prospect patch. I’ve always wanted to be a Disciple, and it was what you wanted, too.” “That was before they killed my dad!” Fuck. Her head was totally fucked over this. “You know they didn’t. They’re mourning Indian as much as I am, as much as you are. He died, and it’s

fucking terrible, but you know any of those men would give their own life to bring him back to you. If you just calm down, you know it’s true.” Tears fell from her blue eyes—eyes that had been stained red for over a week. Nothing made a man feel more fucking impotent than watching his woman cry constantly and not being able to do a damn thing about it. I hadn’t lied; any of the Savage Disciples MC men would give up their lives in an instant to bring their fallen brother back, to give Ash back her dad. I would take a bullet right then and there just to make her stop hurting. “They might not have meant for him

to die, but it’s their fault. The fucking club is the reason he’s gone!” She went right on working herself up. In that moment, I wanted to be able to rewind more than I could put in to words. Just over a week before, we were happy. Everything was good. Fuck, everything was going exactly as it should. I’d been made a prospect for the club, the first step to my fucking lifelong dream of being a member. My uncle, Gunner, put the cut on me himself. It was everything I’d wanted since I could remember, since the first time Gunner brought me around the club as a kid.

The first thing I did? I went to Ash. My girl, the daughter of a Disciple, grew up with the club. The brothers were her family, just like they were mine. Since I was six years old and I first met her, she’d known having that patch was all I wanted. Fourteen years later, it was real. Ash was fucking thrilled. My firefly beamed as bright as I’d ever seen her. She’d thrown herself into my arms. She couldn’t stop looking at the cut on my shoulders, the visual proof it was really happening. At least, she couldn’t stop looking until I got her to take it off me so we could really get to celebrating. But that night, with Ash curled up

next to me in my bed, my cell rang. The first bad sign was the three a.m. call. The second was the way Gunner greeted me. “Is Ash with you?” I didn’t know why he would need to ask that. Ash was nearly always with me. Indian might not have liked it, but his daughter was eighteen. And anyway, she’d been staying the night with me on occasion even before that. So yeah, if she weren’t at home with Indian, she was in my bed. I hadn’t expected him to be asking because there was no way for Indian to tell them she wasn’t home. I hadn’t expected that I would need to

wake my girl in the middle of the night. I hadn’t expected that it would fall on me to tell her her only family member was gone. I did, however, expect the way Ash had fallen apart at the news. I was even prepared for the fact that she wouldn’t bounce back from it right away. Moving forward was going to be a long road for her, I knew that. Still, I never could have guessed she’d even think the things she was saying to me. “So what, Ash? You want me to leave the club? Give up being a prospect and just take off?” She couldn’t mean that.

“Yes.” Not even a moment’s hesitation. “The club is family.” “I know your uncle is—” “No. Ash, the club is family. All of them, not just my uncle. The brothers are our family.” She looked at me and something about her eyes scared the shit out of me. “No. I don’t have a family anymore.” Fuck. It was so much worse than I thought. “Baby, the brothers are still your family. They helped raise you. Can you honestly say Roadrunner, Tank, Gunner, Stone—none of those men are your family? They love you.”

Her tears came harder, but there was no surrender in her. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t stay here and wait for the club to take anyone else from me.” A sob rocked her before she could say, “I can’t stay here and wait until it takes you.” I tried to give her distance. I tried to stand across the room from her like she’d asked so she could talk, but I wasn’t doing that shit anymore. The second I had my arms around her, her face burrowed into my chest and she sobbed. It was a position we’d become all too familiar with. “Firefly, listen to me,” I said into her hair, “I know you’re hurting, but this isn’t right. I can’t leave the club. I won’t.

Once this pain isn’t so fresh, you won’t want to either. We’ll get through this, babe. Just hold onto me.” She didn’t say anything. She didn’t argue any more. I got her into bed thinking I talked her off the ledge. She was staying. We were staying right where we were supposed to be. I woke in the morning to find out I was very, very wrong.

“Order up,” Rocco called from the kitchen. Of course my order was up. Heaven forbid I get half a second to just lean against the counter and take a breath. I immediately spun toward the window and grabbed the two Rueben platters for

Mr. and Mrs. Jensen, who came in every Thursday for them. There were some things in life you could count on; the Jensen’s never missing their Thursday Rueben date was one of them. “Buck up,” Rocco instructed. “Just another two hours and you’re off.” “Not tonight. Cassidy called in and asked me to pick up the first half of her shift. I’ve got six more hours before I’m out of here,” I shot back. He gave me a sympathetic look as I turned away. Story of my life. I was sure I looked as tired as I felt. My pale skin, usually a hazard of showing the slightest flush, always highlighted the dark circles beneath my eyes.

Exhaustion was just par for the course, another one of those things in life you could count on. I could hardly remember the last time I wasn’t tired enough to fall asleep standing. Actually, that wasn’t true. It was five years ago, back when I had everything. I spent the next five hours constantly moving from table to table. I’d learned to force a smile through my sore feet and aching back a long time ago. When I first started my job as a waitress, I figured out a big smile meant a bigger tip. I needed those tips—then and now. No customer of mine ever knew I was anything but thrilled to serve them. It didn’t matter if they were rude, or if the

men who came in at night drunk got handsy, or if the one person I least wanted to walk in that door did. None of it mattered. I was perfectly charming from the start to end of every shift. With just under an hour left before I got off for the day, I dipped into the bathroom. The exhaustion I beat back day after day was taking over. I splashed some cold water on my face. Once I made it through my shift, it would just be a couple hours before I could crash. Of course, then I had to be up bright and early to do it again. Wiping the dampness away with a paper towel, I tried not to focus on the fact that a quick trip to the bathroom was

one of the most restful parts of my day. I took a moment to redo my ponytail and capture the errant hairs that had gotten away. My curly blonde hair was always kept tied up—there was no way I was fussing with the mess before a 6:00 a.m. shift. It was risky business angering that beast. I shook it off, reminding myself my shift was almost over. I’d made it through worse, I could do it. I plastered on the smile I’d spent years perfecting, drawing on the one thing in the world that made all the struggle worth it. The minute I walked back out into the diner, that smile faded. Seated in one of the red vinyl booths was someone I absolutely did not want

to see. The funny thing? I didn’t even know who it was. All I knew was the scythe and motorcycle logo on the back of his leather vest and the words stitched above it: Savage Disciples. I’d left the Disciples behind. Five years ago, when I lost my dad, when they put him in the ground with that same patch on his back, I left them behind. My eyes darted all over the diner, looking for anything that could keep me from approaching that table. Maybe I could find a way to look really busy serving the other diners until Cassidy showed up in…I looked up at the clock and saw it was 5:21 p.m. I could make it thirty-nine minutes without checking that

table, right? Maybe? Yeah, not going to happen— especially when I only had half a dozen other customers to tend to, most of who were regulars. As it stood, my mystery Disciple was the only person in the place likely to need my attention at all. With any luck, whoever it was wouldn’t recognize me. I’d left five years ago. I’d changed, the Disciples had changed. It might be someone new I’d never even met. Admittedly, it was unlikely, but I needed to convince myself of something if I was going to approach. Straightening my spine, I walked over. “Hi, there. What can I get you?” I didn’t look directly at him. I kept my

eyes on the notepad I rarely used. We had a one-page menu; I could remember orders without writing them down. “How about lookin’ at me, Firefly?” he rumbled back. That name. My heart froze and then took off in my chest. My dad had called me that since I was little. “Roadrunner,” I whispered, finally meeting his eyes. “Ash,” he replied. I couldn’t help it, I felt my eyes start to sting. I considered all the brothers to be my uncles growing up. They were Dad’s brothers, after all. Roadrunner, though, was special to me. He’d been the one person I knew who loved me as

much as my own father. I’d never let myself think about how much I missed him until I looked into his slightly older face. “Hi,” I choked out. He was on his feet in a heartbeat, pulling me into a bear hug. “Hi, sweetheart.” I soaked up his comfort for a minute, pushing back the tears before I pulled away. “What are you doing here?” He sat back down, and said, “When do you get off?” “How about you answer my question?” I countered. “Got a lot to say, Ash. It’d be better if you weren’t working.”

“I’m busy after work,” I evaded. Saying it made me realize how little time I had left. He needed to start talking and get out of here as quick as I could manage. “This is important,” he insisted. “Then tell me,” I went on pushing. “Dammit. You’re as stubborn as Indian,” he grumbled. Four years later and it still destroyed me to hear Dad’s road name. He went by Indian exclusively. I was the only exception. I called him Daddy. The absolute devastation that name reeked on my heart must have shown in my expression. Roadrunner reached out to grab my hand, a move I was too

withdrawn into my pain to notice until I felt his large one envelope mine. “I miss him, too,” he admitted. I knew he did. He and Dad were best friends…if badass bikers referred to another man as their “best friend”. They were brothers, like all the Disciples, but their bond was more than even that. It was why Roadrunner was my godfather. There was no one on earth my dad trusted more than the man in front of me, and I knew Roadrunner felt the same. “Please,” I pleaded, not wanting to linger on that subject any longer, “just tell me what you’re here for.” He gave me a long look, and it spoke volumes about how trying he was finding

the situation. Then, he hit me with words I was not prepared for. “You need to come home.” Home. I wasn’t sure what home was anymore. Some part of me still thought of the club, of Hoffman, Oregon where they were rooted, as home, but I had been trying—for years, it had been my goal—to make a new home here in Portland. “I can’t.” Roadrunner shook his head, scratching at the side of his hairy jaw. “Let you make that play, Ash. Damn near killed me to do it, but I let you. Now, I’m telling you it can’t go on. You have got to trust me here.”

The gravity of his voice made me hesitant. “What aren’t you saying?” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. “There’s shit going down. Shit that’s complicated, and I need time to explain it. Shit I will explain, once you give me a chance while we’re not standin’ in the middle of a diner.” “What does that have to do with me?” He leveled me with a stare that told me his answer was not one I was going to want to hear. “You’re not safe.” Crap. “I haven’t been around the club in years. Who even knows how to find me?”

“Took me less than a week,” he admitted. It took him less than a week, yet no one had come after me before. No one. “How did you find me?” I questioned. “This is Mayhem territory. Got those boys to sniff you out,” he explained. I knew that, of course. The Mayhem Bringers were allies of the Disciples. Well, now they were anyway. A bloody road brought them there, but they forged those alliances before I left. I had considered the possibility that they might be able to find me, but by the time I’d settled in town, I thought it was pretty clear no one was looking.

“Right,” I muttered. “Bottom line, girlie, we can’t protect you here. I’d ask the Mayhem boys to do it, but they’re neck deep in their own shit. Having them around might bring you more trouble. You gotta come home where we can keep you safe.” Crap again. He was right. If there was a threat, I needed their protection. But how would I face him? How would I explain… The bell above the door chimed, and, on instinct, I turned that way. When I did, I froze. Striding in was a petite AfricanAmerican woman and a little girl with blonde ringlets holding her hand. My Emmaline.

Crap. Crap. Crap. She wasn’t supposed to be here yet. “Mommy,” my baby called, breaking away from Jasmine and running over to me. I swept her up right away, my mind going crazy with thoughts of what I was going to do now. Roadrunner was right there. He saw her. He heard her call me “Mommy”. None of the Disciples knew about her. My Emmy. Just mine. Now, Roadrunner knew. If what he told me about our safety was true, they would all know her soon. Were it just me, I might not agree to be under their protection, but I would not take any

chances with my daughter. “I’m sorry we’re a bit early,” Jasmine said. “My mom called and needs my help.” “That’s alright,” I told her. Honestly, she watched my daughter for me all the time while I was at work and barely let me pay her for it. I checked my watch. Half an hour of having Emmy sit in a booth while I kept an eye on her was hardly any trouble compared to all Jasmine did for me. “Do you need me tomorrow?” she asked. I glanced over at Roadrunner and from the corner of my eye, saw Jasmine look as well. He said we needed to

leave. Knowing the Disciples, their bullheadedness and impatience, I might not still be in town tomorrow. “I’ll call you,” I settled on. She nodded, smiling her bright smile at me. Then, she looked down at Emmy. “Later, sista’.” “Later,” Emmy echoed in her little girl voice. They both brought their hands up and threw their hair over their shoulder with flourish before batting them in each other’s direction, saying, “Stop it.” That was their move. Always. It came from one of Emmy’s shows, and it was clear my baby thought she was the coolest when she did it. Little Diva.

With that, Jasmine left. I bent down, hoisting Emmy up into my arms, glad to notice her little pink backpack on her shoulders. “Did you bring something to do?” Jasmine watched Emmy at my place, so they had access to all of Emmy’s things. I knew she’d be prepared. “Yep. I brought a color book,” Emmy answered. “Coloring book,” I corrected in a gentle tone. “Colorin’ book,” she amended. Almost. She was still struggling with words ending in “g”. “Alright. You’ll have to sit near the bar so I can keep an eye on you,” I told

her. I’d let her pick her booth, but only within reason. Then, Roadrunner spoke from behind me. “I can watch her.” I swung back to him, having nearly forgotten he was there. He wasn’t looking at me. He was staring directly at Emmy. His eyes were more expressive than I’d ever seen them. Just from that look, I knew he already loved her. I could also see the hint of sadness. I wasn’t sure whether it was because three years of her life had already passed without him having met her, or because his best friend would never get to know his granddaughter. If I were honest with myself, it was

probably a mix of both. That sadness, no matter how much he tried to bury it, hit me like a knife in the gut. Roadrunner should have known Emmy. He should have been able to see her as a baby, watch her become the sassy little princess she was now. She should already know him, think of him like a grandfather. I kept them apart. I knew that. That was my burden to bear, exactly as it had been for nearly four years. Roadrunner buried the surprise, the sadness, everything but pure happiness as he smiled at Emmy. “Hi, baby girl. What’s your name?” “Emmaline,” she answered, turning

her face toward my neck, but keeping her eyes up and to the side to see him. She wasn’t shy. My Emmy didn’t have a shy bone in her body. She was my total opposite in that way. No, the shy act was her sinking in her hook. How she learned to do that already, I hadn’t the slightest. Still, she used it to perfection every time. “Emmaline,” Roadrunner repeated on a whisper, and that sadness crept back in before he buried it. “I’m Roadrunner.” “That’s a funny name,” she told him. “I know. I’m a funny guy.” With that, she pulled out the full-on smile. He was dazzled. It was hard not to be. She shined brighter than the sun

when she smiled. She had him, and she knew it. “You can call me Emmy,” she told him, pointing at him in what I would call a flirty way if she were twenty years older. She said this as if it were a privilege she bestowed upon him. Diva, absolutely. Knowing she had plenty of time to finish sinking him while I completed my shift, I cut in, “Are you okay with sitting with Roadrunner? He’s a friend of Mommy’s.” Well, that was a very serious understatement, but it was something we would have to get into later. Emmy knew nothing about the Disciples. I’d only

ever told her a bit about her grandpa. “Yes,” she replied, already squirming to get down. Of course she was fine with it; she could tell he was going to be easy to wrap around her finger. Those were her favorite type of people. The fact that he was massive, wearing all black, had a full beard, and a mess of tattoos meant nothing to her. I did as she silently requested and set her down. She immediately stepped toward Roadrunner, grabbing his hand and moving right to one of the bench seats of the booth. She shrugged off her backpack and handed it to him like he should be so lucky to hold her things for her. Without a word, she climbed onto

the seat and scooted over. She patted the spot next to her. “You sit here.” “Emmaline,” I reprimanded, “what have I told you about telling people what to do?” “Please sit here?” she corrected, adding a flash of doe-eyes at him. I rolled my eyes as I walked away and got back to work.

Once my shift was over, I clocked out, pocketed my tips, and returned to their table. Roadrunner had flagged me down to get them an order of fries and a chocolate shake. Emmy insisted she wanted her own shake. Yeah, like that was going to happen. She split one with

Roadrunner, even though I poured it in two cups. And it wasn’t a 50/50 split, either. More like 75/25. She was three. The last thing she needed was that much sugar. By the time I got back, the snack was gone and Roadrunner and Emmy were coloring side-by-side on joint pages. To most, the sight of that burly biker leaning over a coloring book with a blue crayon in his massive hand would be shocking. It wasn’t to me. He’d done the same with me when I was little. He was a little less gruff back then, but not by much. I cleared my throat from beside their table when neither one noticed me. Emmy looked up, smiled, then went right

back to her scribbling. Roadrunner gave me his full attention. “I guess we need to talk,” I said. He gave a quick glance over his shoulder at Emmy, then came back to me. “Yeah, we do, girlie.” “Would you like to come back to our apartment? I can make something for dinner,” I offered. “How about I take you girls out?” he suggested instead. “Chuck-E-Cheese!” Emmy, who clearly hadn’t checked out of the conversation entirely, put in. “Chuck-E-Cheese is far away, sweetie,” I told her. “It’s too late to go there.”

Her lips pouted out in her obvious distaste of that answer. “How about you pick something else?” Roadrunner offered. “Pizza!” she countered, not deterred. Roadrunner looked to me. “Anywhere good nearby?” “Not that’s sit down,” I told him. “We can go back to our place and order delivery.” “Sounds good.” I looked to Emmy. “Pack up your stuff, little miss.” She immediately did as she was told. She might be sassy, but she wasn’t a brat. Once she was packed, I gave a final

wave to the staff, including Rocco, who was peeking out of the kitchen. “Goodnight, Princess Emmy,” he called. She gave him a little wave in return and Roadrunner chuckled. Once outside, I turned to him. “Where’s your bike parked?” “Back in Hoffman. Brought the pickup. Figured we might need the bed to move your stuff.” Right, because he was confident I would be coming with and would need my things. “Right.” “Where’s your car?” he returned. “At home,” I answered. “It’s…not running great. We’re just a couple blocks

away and I wasn’t expecting to have Emmy. I walked in.” ‘Not running great’ might have been an understatement. More like, it’s a battle just to get the engine to turn over, let alone getting the hunk of rust to actually get you anywhere. Still, that wasn’t important. Not right then, anyway. I didn’t like people to see that. I didn’t like people to know I couldn’t provide a safe, reliable car for my daughter, if not myself. He gave me a long, steady look that suggested he saw through my understatement. He’d known me since birth, the last few years aside, I’m sure he could tell when I was lying.

“Well, good thing I’m here then. I’ll drive us.” Off the hook, for now. And I knew it would only be for now. Crap.

Roadrunner let me be for a little while…that while being exactly as long as it took to get to my apartment, call in a pizza order, wait for it to arrive, and eat. While we waited, Emmy made a production of showing our guest her room. She had him by the arm, dragging him along as soon as his shoes were off. She’d kept him busy there,

introducing him to her stuffed animals and showing him her various books and art supplies. “You like art?” Roadrunner asked, and my stomach lurched at the question —at why he would be asking that. “Yes,” she answered with her typical excitement. “Mommy got me the biggest box of crayons they got so I have all the colors.” I was glad to be out in the living room where I could avoid his knowing look, and I knew there would be one. A lot of kids liked to draw. It didn’t mean anything, despite what he probably thought. I tuned out the rest of their

conversation as I pulled out plates and set them on the tiny four-seater table. Retreating into my own mind, I thought about what I was going to say. Roadrunner was going to have questions. How could he not? I even knew what they were going to be, but that didn’t mean I had answers. There were no answers, not for this. There was no way to explain any of it. If there were, I might have had him in her life all along. It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about it. From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I considered contacting him. He was like a second father to me. I knew I couldn’t go back home, but I thought about asking him to come to me.

I never did, though, because I had no idea how to deal with this. When the knock came at the door, I was still deep in my own head. Roadrunner made it there before me, tossing me a confused look at why someone was knocking. I knew it would be the delivery driver. There was a locked door with an intercom system at the front of our building, but there was a code to unlock the outer door. Everyone knew it, and no one in the building seemed to hesitate sharing it with friends, family…the pizza guy. Why bother answering the buzzer first or going down to the lobby when you could tell the driver how to get in and bring it

right to you? Roadrunner wouldn’t like that explanation, not with me and Emmy living alone. The Disciples weren’t sexist or anything, but most of the brothers were old fashioned in certain ways. A female and her young daughter living alone without a man to protect them—and worse, without decent security—was one of those somewhatoutdated notions. He wouldn’t be wrong there. For years, I’d wished I could live somewhere more secure for Emmy, but buildings with doormen and top of the line security systems were out of my budget. We were lucky an apartment

with an outer door that was supposed to be locked to keep non-residents out was in budget. Roadrunner paid for the pizza, something he’d told me was nonnegotiable before I placed the order. It wasn’t like I was going to argue. Our household had a strict food budget and delivery had not been a part of it this week. We ate with Emmy dominating the conversation, telling Roadrunner all about everything in her life. She talked about her favorite movies and shows, how Jasmine watched her because she worked from home, how she wanted to do dance classes so she could be a

“balleriner”. He tried to correct the way she said “ballerina”, to no avail. I’d been trying for a while. She’d get there on her own eventually. Her ever-running mouth actually slowed by the time we were done eating. Granted, this was because she was getting tired. It was past her bedtime, so I got right to settling her in for the night. Once she was down, I knew my time for evading was over. I entered the living room to see Roadrunner’s eyes on me, his stare pointed. “Come sit down, Ash.” Well, here went nothing.

I just finished inking a fuchsia butterfly onto a blonde’s ankle when my phone went off in my pocket. I knew the buzz. I had a specific one for club brothers, that way I’d know if the call was worth ignoring. I pulled it out and saw Stone’s name on the display.

“Yeah?” I answered. “You at work?” he asked. “Just finishing up.” “Need to discuss something, face to face,” he said. “At the clubhouse.” “Be there in twenty.” I hung up. The blonde in my chair ducked her chin toward her over-inflated tits and jutted out a lip at what she heard. She’d been aching for it since she walked in and saw me. Probably would’ve done it, despite the fact that those balloons she had in her shirt looked like they might burst given too much activity, but that was off the table now. “Jess at the desk can get you checked out,” I told her, then reiterated the

instructions on how to care for her new ink. By the look of her tan, she’d be ignoring the suggestion about avoiding the sun. Her body, her call. Not like that tattoo was a real work of art. I’d done art. I’d done loads of tattoos that were nothing but. I inked art into people’s skin every day. The butterfly she asked for wasn’t art. It was stupid, particularly when she explained that she just thought it “would be cute”. There was no reason for it, not even one she wasn’t up for sharing. Again, it was her body. Not every tattoo on mine was dripping with meaning, but I hadn’t gotten anything “cute” either. Still, not my place to tell someone

not to get inked. “You have to go?” she asked, still pouting. Why the fuck did women do that pouting shit? Did that actually work on some guys? Shit. I might not be super fucking choosey, but I can say I’ve never gone for a woman because she pouted at me. No pout in the world would sway me. “Shift’s over,” I answered, already cleaning up my station. “You’re sure you can’t—” “Yeah. I’m sure,” I said, cutting her off. With that, she hopped to and went to the counter to pay. I was even more sure

after she threw attitude like that. Thank fuck Stone called and I dodged that bullet. I left five minutes later, going around back to where I parked my Fat Boy and swinging on. My girl purred for me. She was the only woman I needed in my life. Easy pussy was fine, but I wasn’t up for any bullshit. Whether that was attitude or clinging, didn’t matter. Complicated was complicated. I had something complicated once. Actually, that shit wasn’t complicated at all. It was the simplest thing I’d ever done until the day it was all so fucked there was no going back. Since then, I’ve stuck with fucking and leaving that other

shit at the door. I rolled into the Disciples’ clubhouse right on time. I strolled right through to Stone’s office, lifting my chin to a couple brothers hanging around on the way. Whatever Pres needed, it was priority. It also clearly didn’t involve the rest of the guys. I knocked twice, then swung the door open at Stone’s reply. Shutting it behind me, I sat my ass on one of the chairs in front of him. Stone was our President. A former Marine, he still looked like he could charge into a hostile country and have shit under control in a day. He wasn’t one to fuck around, which we all

appreciated. He didn’t disappoint then. “You know Roadrunner’s in Portland meetin’ with Mayhem?” I nodded, but didn’t speak. “Not the only reason he’s there.” I waited. Stone would say what he had to say. The pause didn’t seem good, though. “He’s there seeing Ash,” Stone went on. Fuck. I hadn’t expected that. Had nothing to say to that. He read me and kept going. “This shit we’ve got on with Barton, we can’t have her there unprotected. Got a message from that fucker a bit back, few

days before Gauge and Cami tied the knot. Pictures of her. Recent. We know what that fuck’s capable of. Talked to Mayhem about protection, but they’re stretched thin dealing with the Italians trying to edge into their territory. Haven’t got the man power.” I still said nothing. What the fuck was there to say to this shit? “Gotta know you’re straight, brother,” he said. “Best place we got for her is at the farmhouse, but you’re settled there already. You aren’t okay with that, we’ll figure something out, set her up elsewhere.” “I’m cool,” I told him. I was. I was fucking ice. I’d been ice for five years.

He didn’t push. I said I was good, I was good. No fucking discussion needed. “Okay.” “When’s she getting here?” “Roadrunner messaged me early, told me he made contact. Haven’t heard if he’s headed back yet. Can’t imagine she’ll come easy,” he answered. No, Ash wasn’t going to come easy. She didn’t want to be here. If she did, she wouldn’t have taken off in the first fucking place. I nodded. “Anything else?” Stone waited a second. “There’s something you should know about her —”

I stood, cutting him off. “I’ve got a few days off from the shop. Going to ride out unless you need me on something.” “Man,” he started, but the look I gave him shut that down. I didn’t need to hear about what Ash had been doing since she took off on me. “No. You’re fine.” Right. We both knew what that meant. He wasn’t getting in my way. I needed to take off, he would give me that. “See you in a few days,” I said, then walked out.

Hours later, I was in my room at

home. Well, something like home anyway. The farmhouse used to be the center of everything Disciples. It belonged to a former president of the club and during his time, it was where everything went down. Eventually, the club invested in the warehouse we’d converted into the current hub. The clubhouse was closer to town and the repair shop the club owned. It also had more space for the brothers and whoever else might be around. Now, the farmhouse was fair game for brothers who wanted to live there. Everyone had rooms at the clubhouse, but they were usually for late nights

when you needed to sleep it off. For the moment, there were four of us living in the farmhouse. Though, if Ash was coming, it would soon be five. Fuck. I tossed back the rest of my beer, unable to stop myself from going there. It didn’t matter what I said to Stone, Ash coming back was going to be a goddamn mess. There was no fucking way to avoid it. Well, there was one fucking way. She’d done it just fine for the last five years, after all. She’d probably just act like nothing fucking happened. Like she didn’t just up and disappear. Like nothing before that

even mattered. Fuck, maybe it didn’t. Not to her. It had fucking well mattered to me, though. Once. Hell, maybe it was time to make it not matter to me. She took off. Done. The fucking end. Anything that happened now didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. I told myself this like thinking it would make it true. Still, when I stood in the bathroom after grabbing a shower, my hand moved over the uninked skin of my chest. The blank space—the tattoo I never got—felt more like a scar than anything else. Ash was coming back. Fuck.

“You gonna explain this shit, Firefly?” Roadrunner asked after several moments with nothing but the local news playing on the TV to break the silence between us. I’d already agreed to go back to the club with him. It hadn’t taken much.

Roadrunner had told me Stone, the club’s president, wanted to sit down and discuss the details once I was back there. In the meantime, he’d given me all I needed to know. Whatever threat the club was dealing with, it had been made clear they knew who I was and I was a target. I didn’t bother asking if I was the only person threatened, since I was sure I wasn’t. All that mattered was me being a target put Emmy at risk. The idea of going back terrified me, but nowhere near enough for me to consider endangering my daughter. “I don’t know what to say,” I admitted, not looking his way. “In the interest of full disclosure, the

report the Mayhem boys gave us about where you were included you had a daughter. Still, seeing her that first time was a fucking shock.” I imagined it was. “Does Gabe know?” I asked, completely freaked. It wouldn’t matter for long. There was no way he wouldn’t find out about Emmy once we were there. Still, I wasn’t ready for him to know. “Not yet,” Roadrunner answered, and I sighed in relief. “She’s his,” he stated. “I don’t know.” It was an admission I didn’t want to make, even to myself. Roadrunner’s body jerked, but I wouldn’t look. I would not face the

confusion, the disappointment… whatever was going to be on his face. “Ash…” “Please, I don’t want to talk about that.” I wasn’t above begging, not when it came to this. The news shifted to word of storms coming. Nothing but rain in the forecast as far out as they could guess. Sounded about right. “Okay,” Roadrunner finally said, then changed directions. “Why didn’t you come back? You didn’t have to do it alone. Even if you didn’t want the club, you could have called me. I’d have taken care of you.” Tears welled in my eyes. I knew he

would have, but I also knew there was no Disciple without the club. The club was a part of him; it was a part of all of them. “You know I couldn’t have come to you, with her, and manage to keep him away,” I said. He sighed. “Ash, I’ve been questioning it for a long time and I can’t figure it out. Why did you want to keep him away at all?” That was the rub, wasn’t it? “I didn’t want to. When I left…” I started, but then backtracked to admit the root of it all. “When dad died, I couldn’t be around the club anymore. I know you don’t see it the same way, but it felt like

the club cost me my father. He was everything to me, you know that. He was the only…” Crap. I stopped there. I almost said “he was the only family I had”, but that wasn’t true. The man next to me, the one who came to find me after five years because I wasn’t safe, the one who was heartbroken by all he’d missed in my life —he was family. I finally looked his way. His sad, whiskey-colored eyes were on mine. He knew what I was about to say. “No. I’m sorry,” I told him. “I know, honey.”

I forced myself to go on. “I just…I couldn’t face the Disciples anymore. I didn’t want to leave Gabe. I never wanted to leave him. I asked him to come with me.” “What?” Roadrunner was shocked. I gave a sad nod. “He’d just become a prospect. You know what the club meant to him, what it always meant to him. He wouldn’t leave it behind. He begged me to stay, but I couldn’t.” “I gotta tell you, Ash, his reaction didn’t seem like there had been a whole lot of discussion about this.” I figured as much. “We talked about it, fought about it. I begged him to leave, he tried to get me to stay. Eventually, I

knew I wasn’t going to be able to change his mind. I gave in, stopped fighting about it, then…” I trailed off. “You left,” Roadrunner finished for me. “He thought you were giving in to staying, but you left without telling him.” I couldn’t stop the tears anymore. There was no way. It had ripped my heart out to leave. That wound had never healed. It probably never would. “Fuck,” he muttered, then his big arms were around me. I hadn’t been held, not by anyone but Emmy, in years. “I don’t know how to handle this,” I admitted to his chest. “I don’t know what I can say to him.” He smoothed a hand up and down my

back. “You have to give him the truth.” “He’ll hate me. He probably already hates me.” Roadrunner sighed. “He’s not the same person he was before you left. Then, we lost Gunner and—” I shot up. “What?” “Shit. I forgot you didn’t know.” He couldn’t have said that. It couldn’t be. “It was probably about eight months after you left. Gunner was out on his bike. Got nailed by a drunk driver. They did what they could at the hospital, but we lost him a couple days later. Nearly destroyed the kid.” No.

Gunner. Gabe’s uncle. The only family he had that mattered. No. No. No. “Oh god,” I sobbed. I left him, and then he’d been forced to face the same loss I had. What had I done? That thought, that crushing reality coming down on me, had me spilling all. I told him nearly everything—or everything I could. I told him about leaving, about moving around, about finding out I was pregnant. I told him about raising Emmy alone and working any job I could get to support us. There was one thing I didn’t tell him,

though. One thing I knew he wanted to ask, but I refused to go there. I couldn’t. We didn’t discuss who Emmy’s father was.

The next day, I was nearing a panic attack as I stared at the boxes I’d packed. There were four of them, though four more leaned against the wall, unconstructed. Roadrunner had brought them by that morning for me. Why he thought we would need eight moving boxes when we weren’t even bringing everything was beyond me. I’m not sure everything we owned would fill eight

moving boxes. Some things, including all the furniture, were staying in the apartment. The club, Roadrunner told me, would foot the bill for the rent for the time being. I had not been keen to accept, and I told him so, but it hadn’t gone over well. I was near to shouting at him for being so domineering while he accused me of being too stubborn to get by. I eventually gave in when he pointed out not only would we not be in residence because of the club’s problems, but also, because I would be leaving town, I had to quit my job. There was no way I would be able to pay the rent and he placed the blame for that on the

Disciples. So, after spending the evening pouring my guts out to Roadrunner, then us arguing over the details of my move, I’d given in. Emmy and I were leaving with him, going back to a home I barely knew and facing down the very real, very alive past I had been running from for years. Roadrunner had a morning meet with the Mayhem Bringers, part of what brought him to Portland. The night before, he told me he would come by with the boxes early and I needed to sort everything out so we could leave when he came back in the early afternoon. I’d done as he said and started the

morning explaining to Emmy that we were going away for a while. That had been the hardest part. “Where we goin’, Momma?” How could I explain it all to her? I couldn’t very well tell her her grandpa was a biker who died for the club and left me alone, I took off because I couldn’t deal, and now that club was involved in some mess, making the two of us unsafe. First, she wouldn’t have understood bikers or the club. Second, I was not about to tell my three-nearlyfour-year-old we were in danger. Instead, I went with, “There are people where we’re going who care about us. You haven’t met them, but

they knew your grandpa. We’re going to stay with them for a while.” Luckily, she’d accepted that as good enough. “Okay.” “I need you to help Mommy pack,” I’d told her. “What’s pack?” “We need to get your toys ready to bring with us. Can you help with that?” “Yeah!” My girl, always Mommy’s little helper. “I’m going to bring this box into your room. I need you to take the toys from your toy box and put them in the box. Okay?” “Stuffies, too?”

“Stuffies, too,” I’d confirmed. “Okay!” I had no idea the actual state of the box she’d put her toys in. Nothing of hers was fragile, so it would do. I’d just shut the flaps and taped it closed without thinking on it too much. While she noisily packed up her toys —and took frequent breaks to play with them—I took on packing everything else. I brought all of my and Emmy’s clothes, not wanting to be without when I had no idea how long we would be gone. I even grabbed winter coats, though Emmy’s probably didn’t fit anymore. It was March. Things had warmed up, but weather was weird. If winter made a

reappearance, I wanted to be ready. I was going to have no choice but to accept financial support from the club while we were there unless my protection was loose enough to allow me to work. However, that didn’t mean I wanted to ask the club for anything more than I had to. If I could avoid needing to buy clothes or coats, I was going to do so. I packed up bedding for both of us, luckily finding non-pink sheets still in the closet. I hadn’t used sheets in over a year. Somehow, I’d managed to get Roadrunner out the door the night before without him cottoning on to the fact that I slept on the couch. The apartment was a

one bedroom. It was all I could afford. There was a door in the hallway to a closet I assume Roadrunner thought led to my room. That was for the better. He seemed ill at ease about the state of our run-down place as it were, no need for him to blow up over me sleeping on the couch. And I knew he would blow up if he found out. There wasn’t much besides the essentials and Emmy’s toys, so it was no problem getting everything boxed with time to spare. Which was good, seeing as packing wasn’t all I needed to accomplish before Roadrunner got back. First, I had to take a trip down the hall to Jasmine’s. She was the only real

friend I had and she was like an aunt to Emmy. She deserved more than a call to explain we were mysteriously taking off. Jasmine knew all about my life before we moved in down the hall. Back before her mother’s health had gone south—Parkinson’s—she’d watched Emmy one evening so Jasmine and I could have a girls night. With loose lips granted by the grace of vodka, she’d gotten me to spill all—from growing up with the club to losing my dad to everything that had happened in between and since. It didn’t take long to make her understand why we were going. She had just one concern. “They’ll keep you both safe?”

“Yes.” My answer was firm. Any reservations I had about it all aside, I knew the Disciples would protect us. “So,” she’d said, her eyes alight. I knew what was coming. “You’re going to see him again. Gabe.” “Yeah.” And the thought had made my stomach churn. “Are you ready for that?” No. Never. It wasn’t possible to be ready for that. “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.” She gave me a droll look. “Mmhmm. Keep tellin’ yourself that.” I would. I was going to keep telling myself that until I started believing for a

second it was true. After goodbyes with Jasmine, I had to call the diner. I hated to put them in a bind by leaving without notice, but there was nothing to be done. Using the guise of a family emergency, I explained I had to leave town immediately and couldn’t say when I’d be back. Obviously, they were forced to let me go. Not surprising, but it still stung. Eventually, Emmy and I would be returning home, and what was I going to do about work when that time came? I filed that concern away in the everincreasing pile of crap I couldn’t face at the moment. There was no way to get around the circumstances, so there was

no point in dwelling. When the time came, I would figure it out. I always had. I was a survivor. A booming knock came at the door a moment before it swung open. Roadrunner stood there, his eyes assessing the boxes scattered in the living room. I’d given him my spare set of keys before he left last night so he could let himself in. His eyes came to me. “All set?” In terms of practicality, yes. Though, that said nothing for my emotional preparations. Still, I gave him a nod. “Good deal,” he said. “Got a buddy from Mayhem downstairs to help load the truck.” He gave another glance

around. “Not sure he’s needed, though. Sure this is everything you want to bring?” It was my turn to inspect the space. Seeing as the few boxes sitting around us held nearly everything we owned besides the furniture, I was pretty sure. “Yeah, this is it.” With the help of Vic, Roadrunner’s friend from the Mayhem Bringers, the boxes were loaded up in less than twenty minutes. Seeing as I found it extremely unlikely my hunk of junk would make the two hour drive, it wasn’t hard for Roadrunner to convince me to leave it behind. I transferred Emmy’s car seat from it to Roadrunner’s

truck and we took off. About an hour outside of Portland, Emmy was out cold. Something about the motion of a car always knocked my girl out quickly enough, which was fine by me. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to feign excitement for her. She saw this as an adventure; I saw it as us driving straight to hell. Another hour passed in relative silence aside from the music Roadrunner played on low. I mustered up the courage to ask the question that had been plaguing me all night. “Does Gabe know I’m coming?” I didn’t look his way when I asked. I didn’t want to see whatever his

expression might tell me. “They’ve told him by now,” he answered. “But he wasn’t part of that decision,” I said, filling in the missing information. “No, he wasn’t.” I nodded without conviction, still looking out the window at the passing world. “Best you know now, too,” Roadrunner put out there. I turned to look at him. “He doesn’t go by Gabe anymore. Won’t answer to it at all. Got his road name and hasn’t looked back. He’s Sketch now.” Sketch. A new name for a man I no longer knew.

Pulling up to the farmhouse on the outer edge of Hoffman, Oregon felt like stepping back in time. Just the sight of the old house made me feel like I was a kid again, driving up with Dad ready for a cook out or a day in with one of the brothers watching me. It made me flash

back to my teenage years with another man next to me—or maybe he was still just a boy—when we would drive beyond the structure and find places to disappear for a few hours. “Where are we, Momma?” my reminder that I was definitely not the younger self I was envisioning called from the backseat. I turned to look at Emmy, who was using her little fists to make an uncoordinated attempt at rubbing the nap she’d just taken from her eyes. “This is where we’re staying,” I told her. “Where are all the other buildin’s?” My poor, sheltered city girl. Emmy had only left the Portland city limits a

few times in her short life and those were still trips to the suburbs. She’d never been anywhere where only one building stood in the entirety of the visible landscape. “They’re all far away,” I explained. “Roadrunner and his friends own all this land.” “Wow.” Her little face was the picture of childhood wonder. “There’s plenty of space for you to run around,” Roadrunner put in. Emmy swung her head around, looking out the window at every angle she could, taking in her new domain. “I can play anywhere?” “Same rules as the park,” I said,

waiting for her to reiterate the rule I’d made her memorize. She didn’t disappoint. “I haft’a be able to see you.” “Good girl.” At least that was one worry out of the way. The other couple thousand rioting around in my head would just have to keep at their torture for the time being. As Roadrunner pulled up in front of the three-story house, I focused on the bikes and a couple cars parked in the tamped down grass out front. I tried to place a rider to each bike, but it had been too long to be sure. The only one I was certain of was the Harley FXR. That one belonged to Roadrunner. It was

obvious by the emblem of the cartoon character that shared his name, the same image adorning the back of his prized car. “Are you living here now?” I asked. Roadrunner had always been the type to spend most of his hours at the clubhouse, but he’d also owned a small house in town. It was just a block away from the house I’d grown up in. “Nah,” he answered. “Had the boys haul my girl over here on one of the flatbeds from the garage. Means I can leave the truck with you so you’ve got a way to get around until we figure out something better. I’ll have her and the bird until we sort you out some wheels,”

he explained. “The bird” was his 1972 Plymouth Roadrunner. His first love. I couldn’t say how many times I’d heard him tell the tale of finding the beaten up thing and the labor of love that was restoring her to pristine condition. There was a reason his road name was what it was. That car was a part of him. The prospect of driving the pick-up intimidated me since I’d only ever been behind the wheel of smaller cars, but I was far from a crap driver. Dad wouldn’t have stood for that. By the time I was sixteen, I was proficient behind a wheel or a set of handlebars. “Thank you,” I said. It was starting to

sound like a never-ending refrain, but that didn’t mean it was not worth repeating. Roadrunner was doing more than I could ever ask for. A thousand thank-yous didn’t seem to scratch the surface. He looked at me and I saw the dismissal ready to come from his lips, the assurance that I didn’t need to thank him again. Then his face grew so soft, it froze my lungs. “You’re welcome, Firefly.” Crap. I was not going to start any waterworks. I held his gaze for a moment, but only that before moving to open my door. Just being back on this land had my emotions swirling around

enough. Holding myself together was priority number one. While I unlatched my rug rat from her car seat, Roadrunner dashed up the few steps to the porch, then inside. A moment later, he emerged with two more bodies at his back. Both men were ones I recognized. The first was Stone, the Disciples’ President. Stone was the kind of silent, deadly looking giant you might guess was at the helm of a MC. He kept his graying-brown hair cut with military precision, but his beard was not kept with the same care. He was huge, a solid wall of muscle, and he could make even strong men want to run off like frightened kids.

Of course, he was a lot less intimidating when he was smiling that way. You couldn’t so much see the actual smile beneath his scraggily beard, but the effect was still there in the curve of his mustache and the lines around his eyes. Just behind him, with his trademark indecent smirk, was Daz. In a club full of men who weren’t bonded by vows of celibacy by any stretch, Daz still managed to stand out as a man whore. And he reveled in the title. It was in his swagger, in the way everything about his appearance screamed “just fucked”, and the overwhelming innuendos he wove into conversations like prepositions.

Daz offered me a nod and kept moving to the back of the truck to unload. Stone, however, came right to me. It surprised even me when he pulled me into a tight hug. Stone had been around my whole life and I held none of the fear he inspired in most people, but he didn’t tend to be the most touchyfeely of the men I called my uncles. “Welcome back,” he said as he stepped away. “It’s…” I hesitated. I couldn’t necessarily say it was good to return. If I could help it, I wouldn’t be here at all. “It’s alright, you don’t have to front. Weird being here again?” he let me off

the hook. “Very.” “I want you to know we’re working on this,” he said. “I swear to you, we’re going to keep you safe, and we’re going to get this…” he trailed off and eyed Emmy for a moment, “situation sorted.” I nodded, not sure what to say. I still only had a vague idea of what the situation was seeing as it was “club business”. In that silence, Emmy decided she’d had enough of being out of the conversation. “Hi,” she greeted with a bright smile. “Hello, little one,” Stone answered. “I’m Emmaline,” she said, extending her hand. How she understood

handshakes and introductions was beyond me. Maybe she was watching too much TV. Stone did her one better. Reaching out, he turned her hand so the back was facing up and bowed to place a kiss on it. If it weren’t for the gruff biker look winning out, you might have thought he was a prince. Emmy giggled, and squealed, “It tickles!” Stone smiled as he pulled away. “I’m Stone.” Emmy’s hand came back toward us and she laid it over her heart. She was going in for her kill. “I’s so nice to meet you.”

And another one bites the dust. Stone was grinning at her bigger than I had ever seen. Not to be outdone, the king of charm himself came swooping in. “Well, hello, pretty lady,” Daz said, flashing her a cheeky smirk. For a moment, I could swear Emmy was sizing up the competition. It was as if she could tell Daz was a flirt and was going attempt to outmaneuver her. She was not about to have that. Before she could make her move, Roadrunner spoke up. “Careful, Daz. You might’a met your match with this one.” In my arms, Emmy started to fuss. Her silent demand to be put down was

odd. Usually, she was all about vocalizing her thoughts. Still, I set her down without question. She immediately stepped up to Daz and extended her arms in the air. The look on Daz’s face, the panicked way his eyes popped open, had me biting my lips to keep from laughing. Daz was not a kid person. I think he was uncomfortable with them out of a basic fear of some woman he’d one-nighted showing up with one of his own. I had to hand it to him, though. He only froze for a second before lifting my girl into his inked arms. Without hesitation, she grabbed onto his stubble-shadowed jaw and gave a smacking kiss to his right cheek.

“Well…fuck,” Daz muttered. “Daz!” I reprimanded. “Could you not swear in front of my three-yearold?” “Right. Sorry. Shit—” His eyes went wide as he did it again. “I mean…oops.” Emmy giggled. “Just don’t repeat anything your Uncle Daz says,” he told her. “How ‘bout that?” “Untle Daz is funny,” she went on laughing. “Uncle,” I corrected. “Untle,” she repeated while nodding at me like she had it under control. I just shook my head. There was no arguing with her. Daz looked to Stone and Roadrunner.

“See? I can’t keep the ladies off me.” Then, he turned with my girl and started walking inside. “You can’t keep her, Razzle-Dazzle,” Roadrunner called after him. Daz flipped him the bird behind his back. “I’m her uncle. It’s called babysitting.” “You can’t use my daughter to pick up women,” I told him. “What good is being an uncle then?” I heard Emmy’s laughter. She might not have understood the conversation, but the animated way Daz talked was enough for her. “Oh yeah, that’s what’s good about it,” he muttered. Totally sunk. He was just another

victim to her charms.

I stayed with Stone and Roadrunner while they each grabbed a box from the back of the truck. I had Emmy’s backpack of things to keep her occupied in the car and one duffle I packed with some basic necessities we might need before we could get to unpacking.

Shuffling through the entry, I kept my gaze down as I held the door open for both men. I needed that moment to brace. Without a doubt, I knew looking into the living room of the farmhouse was going to be hard. I spent more days than I could count in that room and I knew, as well as I knew the Disciples, it would not have changed much. The brothers weren’t exactly interior decorators. Unless a piece of furniture broke beyond repair, it stayed where it was. The constancy had been comforting as a kid, but I found myself wishing it weren’t true anymore. When the two men were through the doorway, I took a deep breath, turned

into the room… And froze. Flowers. Everywhere. On the couch, piled into the corners of the room, all over the living room. “What the…” “Yeah, those’ll be gone soon,” Stone said over his shoulder. “Deni organized for us to take them over to the hospital.” “But what are they all from?” “The wedding,” he answered. Before I could ask what wedding, Roadrunner spoke up. “Forgot to tell you about that. Gauge and Cami had their wedding here over the weekend.” Wait. Gauge and Cami? “Cami, as in—”

“As in my baby girl got hitched to a Disciple,” Tank cut me off. I turned to see him coming out of the kitchen with his arms full of…a little boy? Before I could ask, Tank went right on speaking. “Sorry I couldn’t meet you at the door. Little Levi decided he needed feedin’ now.” “Levi?” I asked, already making my way toward him. Tank grinned at me like he was king of the world. “My grandson.” I dropped the duffle bag and backpack to the floor as Tank’s big arms extended the little boy my way. I’d guess he was about a year old. He was bigger than Emmy had been at that age, but

Gauge wasn’t a small man. There was no doubt who his father was, even though it had been years since I had seen Gauge. Levi had his dad’s deep tan coloring, his dark eyes, and his mess of black hair. The resemblance was so absolute, I saw none of his mother in him. “Gauge’s genes were dominant, huh?” I mused. “Thank fuck for that.” My head snapped up in confusion at Tank’s words. He read it right away. “He’s not Cami’s. Not by blood, at least. But the papers just went through and he’s her son now.” Jeez. A lot had happened.

“I didn’t even know Cami and Gauge knew each other.” Cami had grown up with the club as well. She was a few years older than Gabe and I, but we were like cousins. There weren’t a lot of kids around, so age differences were set aside. Cami left for college at eighteen and essentially never came back. From what I’d known before I left, she started seeing some guy Tank was not at all fond of and they were living together. She never came back to visit and Gauge hadn’t become a brother until after she’d left. “That was my doing,” Tank said, a note of pride in his voice. “I’ll let Cami tell you the story when she gets back in

town. Gauge took her on a ride out for a few days for their honeymoon. Didn’t want to leave Levi for too long. They’ll be back tomorrow night.” I was about to formulate some version of how I was looking forward to seeing her so I wouldn’t cause an awkward silence—which was my standard way of handling things—when Emmy came running into the room. “Momma! Momma, it’s so pretty! You hafta see!” Having no idea what could be “pretty” in a house full of bikers, I handed Levi back to Tank and followed her down the hall. Most of the rooms were upstairs, but there were a couple at

the far end of the main floor. Back in the day, they were used as storage rooms. Gabe used to sneak us down that same hall, into those unused rooms. No one came looking for us there… Crap. I needed to shut that down. I focused on Emmy and her palpable excitement as we approached one of the rooms. The door was open, so I followed her as she turned in. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. What had to be a whole new set of furniture filled the room. Had to be, because no one living in the house would have been using a white wood framed canopy bed with pink gauzy curtains. The shelves on one side and the

dresser with little tiara-shaped handles were likewise not in high demand. They’d done this for us. They’d gone out of their way to make a room fit for a princess. I could just imagine a group of these men in well-worn jeans and leather cuts, bearded and tattooed, walking into a furniture place and asking for the girliest set they had. The image was funny enough to hold back the threatening tears. “It’s a pwincess room!” Emmy declared, in case I hadn’t gotten that. “I see that, baby.” My eyes swept over the whole room again, my chest constricting. I’d never

been able to give her that. I’d tried. Every day since I found out I was pregnant, I had tried to provide my daughter with everything. We’d gotten by, but I’d never been able to give her something so luxurious. All the furniture we had was second hand. We got what we could from resale shops and garage sales. Her room at home was a mismatched nightmare, but it was what I could afford. For a moment, the crushing sense that I had been failing her made me feel about a foot tall. I ducked back into the hall as Daz helped Emmy rip open the moving box full of her toys. She was going to town

on it, getting everything unloaded at top speed. She wouldn’t notice if I was gone for a while. Standing in the hall did nothing to clear my heavy heart. It only reminded me of where I was. The club had been there, right where it always was, ready to welcome me back. I could have come home with Emmy years ago and the brothers would have taken us in. They would have helped us. She could have had this for years. It wasn’t just the room. The physical gifts were only the smallest piece of what I was mourning. What really hurt were the relationships she missed out on. I grew up with a dozen uncles and

now she would know what that was like. We were barely in the door and even Daz was sunk by her. I kept that from her. But I couldn’t have come back home, could I? I was forgetting the big issue, but I wouldn’t be able to for long. We would have to see each other at some point. “You okay, Ash?” Roadrunner asked from behind me. I turned back toward the room, trying to keep the emotions that felt like they were exploding inside of me from my face. “Just a bit overwhelmed,” I answered. “We wanted her to have a room she

was going to be comfortable in,” he explained. “We had to get furniture either way, there was nothing in here.” Now Roadrunner was going to try to downplay the enormity of what they had just given my daughter, as if it meant nothing. It wasn’t nothing. “Thank you,” I said, too overwhelmed to find any words that would come close to what I was feeling. “Momma?” Emmy called just before her blonde curls popped around the doorframe. “You gotta see! You got a room, too!” I tried to hide the mortification at what she was saying. Kids said crazy things. I could play it off, but only if I

didn’t give the truth away. “Yeah, baby,” I said in as even a tone as I could. “There’s even a bed! A big one! So you can sleeps in one, too!” she kept right on with her excitement. “Yeah, baby. Why don’t you keep unpacking? Uncle Daz probably doesn’t want to unpack your stuffies himself.” Luckily, she followed my suggestion right away. Unfortunately, I knew the damaged had already been done. “What’s she talking about?” Roadrunner asked. Crap. “It’s nothing.” “Ashlynn Mae,” he said in warning.

With a deep breath, I looked up at him. “I couldn’t afford a two bedroom apartment,” I said, hoping that would suffice. “So you two shared that room?” he asked, but he knew the answer. He’d seen Emmy’s bedroom. “Not exactly.” Roadrunner simply raised his eyebrows, his waning patience obvious. “She’s getting older. I thought it was important that she have a space she could identify as her own as she grew up. She needed to get used to doing some things alone, like sleeping.” “And where did you sleep?” “The living room.”

“Where in the living room? I was there, Ash. I didn’t see a bed.” “The couch,” I said, giving him the answer he already knew. Roadrunner rubbed at his eyes like he had a headache setting in. “At least tell me it was a fuckin’ pull-out.” I wanted to lie. So much of me wanted to tell him it was. Would he ever know otherwise? Probably not. I just couldn’t lie to Roadrunner, though. “It wasn’t.” “Goddammit, Ash.” He started pacing while gripping the sides of his head. He was pissed. Seriously pissed. Pissed to the point where a casual observer would question my sanity at

being in a little hall with him. But Roadrunner would never hurt me. He’d never lay a hand on any woman, but it was more than that. He hated the very idea of me hurting in any way. That was what had him so upset. “Why didn’t you call? Come home? We would’ve taken care of you.” It was the same question that had been beating around my brain just minutes before. “I know, but I couldn’t.” My eyes moved to the bedroom door where Emmy had disappeared again. Coming back to the club was never something I’d intended to do, especially not with Emmy in tow. There were too

many questions I couldn’t answer where she was concerned. I had no idea how we were going to do this as it was. Roadrunner shook his head in a frustrated way. I knew he understood I was keeping Emmy away, but he didn’t understand why, and I couldn’t explain that to him. With a great sigh, he came to me and pulled me into his arms. “You’re here now. We’ll take care of you both,” he said. He was right; we were here now. How was I going to leave all this behind again?

It hadn’t been dark long when I pulled up to the farmhouse. I’d meant to keep riding, but it was fucking pointless. Being on the road was doing nothing to clear my head the way it usually did. Every thought was at that damn house, imagining the girl who had torn herself

from my life almost five years ago jamming herself back in like a knife into an open wound. I was so preoccupied, I nearly bit it on a curve I hadn’t noticed coming up. I took it too fast and nearly became a bad paint job on the side of a minivan in the other lane. That was about the time I realized I was in no fucking frame of mind to be on my bike. My plan had been to just go to the clubhouse and crash there, but I scrapped that. It didn’t matter if I hid out at the clubhouse for the foreseeable future; I was going to see her at some point. God only knew how long she was going to be around. Avoidance wasn’t a

long-term plan. I was counting on the anger I already had boiling over when I saw her. Maybe then I could move the fuck on. Yeah, I was going to be the eternal damn optimist. The walk to the front door required a whole lot of one-foot-in-front-of-theother encouragement. It made me want to offer my left hand for a smoke. I’d cut the cigarettes out after I lost my uncle. The nicotine addiction wasn’t what killed Gunner, but they found the lung cancer in the hospital when he died. If it hadn’t been the accident, it would have been the cancer before too long. Talk about a come to Jesus moment. Even if

he’d avoided the drunk asshole behind the wheel of his cage, he would still be gone now. I threw my last pack in the hospital trash and went cold turkey. Never picked up another smoke. I thought I’d totally kicked the cravings too until that moment. I beelined right for the kitchen to grab something of the liquid variety to take the edge off. As long as none of the assholes in the house drank it, I had a bottle of Lagavulin ready to do the job. As I got close, I heard Roadrunner’s voice. When I turned the corner, I could make out what he was saying. “—didn’t even have a bed, for fuck’s sake. Just slept on the fucking couch for

Christ knows how long.” Stone stood beside him looking tense, which said a lot for that somber fucker. “What’s up?” I asked, already locating the scotch I was looking for in the cabinet. “Ash is here,” Pres replied as I grabbed the bottle. Before anyone could take that topic anywhere, I said, “Right. I’m out.” I took barely two steps before Roadrunner spoke to my back. “You have to deal with this shit eventually.” The truth in that statement—a truth I did not need illuminated since it had been fucking dogging me since Stone

told me she was coming back here— pissed me off. “I wanted to deal with this shit,” I reminded him. “I wanted to deal with it over four fucking years ago.” “Sketch,” Stone called as I continued my retreat. “What?” I was seriously fucking done with this shit. “Church. Tomorrow. Gotta have a sit down about the situation with those fuckin’ threats.” Right. Good. As long as he wasn’t going to start— “And watch yourself with that girl,” he continued. “I know you’re pissed, brother, but I don’t get the impression

shit’s been easy for her.” What hadn’t been easy for her? The concern came bubbling up first, but I pushed it back. Maybe shit hadn’t been a cakewalk for her, maybe she’d had to work hard to get by, but it didn’t matter. That was her fucking choice. She could have stayed. I’d have done anything to make her stay. She could’ve been here with me the whole fucking time and not one thing would have had to be hard for her. I would have taken care of it all. Her choice. I looked at my brothers. “I plan to stay the hell away from her, so you don’t have to worry about it. And while we’re

discussin’ it, I don’t appreciate the fucking preaching. I respect the fuck out of you both, but I don’t tell you how to live your lives, how about the same courtesy?” Neither of them looked thrilled, but Stone gave in. “Fair enough.” And that was my cue to get out of there. I rounded the corner to the stairs, fixing to get myself good and plastered in my room. I didn’t make it there, though. Standing in the hall was a little girl. Great. Wonderful. Who was fucking the mom while this little girl just wandered aimlessly through the house?

Sometimes living with my brothers was a fuckin’ nightmare. I walked down the hall toward her and as I approached, she moved one little hand that had been rubbing her eyes and looked up at me. Everything stopped. For one long moment, I wasn’t at the farmhouse. I wasn’t twenty-five, a Disciple, or a tattoo artist. I was six years old at the clubhouse with my uncle, Gunner, and my entire life was about to change… I loved when Uncle me to the clubhouse. nice and fun. Mom always fighting when

Gunner brought The guys were and Dad were they weren’t at

work. That afternoon, they were fighting about the fact that Dad hadn’t actually been working when he was gone. They always started yelling. Dad would talk about someone named Ellen, then Mom would throw things. I learned at school you’re not supposed to throw things. I don’t know why Mom always did. She should know better. When I told Uncle Gunner about their fighting, he got kind of scary. He didn’t yell or anything the way Dad would, though. He sat me down and made me memorize his phone number. I had to promise I would call him if they started fighting again. When I heard Dad say Ellen’s name

that afternoon, I kept my promise. Uncle Gunner said he would be there to pick me up in fifteen minutes. Dad didn’t try to stop me when I left the trailer. Uncle Gunner’s motorcycle was loud enough to hear inside. Dad never tried to tell Uncle Gunner what to do the way he did with everyone else. That was because Uncle Gunner was awesome and huge, and he was a Disciple. You didn’t mess with the Disciples; that’s what Uncle Gunner told me. One day, I was going to be just like him. I was going to be big and strong and ride a Fat Boy. And I was going to be a Disciple, too.

I was hanging out in the living room of the clubhouse playing a racing game against Uncle Gunner on the PlayStation 2 when Indian came in. He was giving a girl a piggyback ride, but I could only see her legs. She had on pink shoes with little flowers on them. They weren’t dirty like mine. She probably didn’t play outside much. “Hey, little man. Didn’t know you’d be stopping by today,” Indian said. Uncle Gunner told me they called him Indian because he road an Indian Motorcycle instead of a Harley like most of the guys did. Indian was his road name, just like Gunner was my uncle’s. If I became a Disciple, I would

have a road name someday, too. “Hi,” I said back, but I was looking at his shoulder. I could see the top of the girl’s head behind him, but she wouldn’t look up. I wondered why she was hiding. “Works out great that you’re here,” he went on. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” He turned his head and spoke over his shoulder, but I could hear him. “Hop down, Firefly.” I watched the legs with the pink shoes tighten around his waist. Indian knelt down and kept talking to the girl holding onto him. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be shy.” The legs let go and Indian stood

back up. The girl kept hiding behind him, her body showing a bit between his legs. Uncle Gunner went over to Indian’s side and crouched down. “Hey there, honey. Don’t you want to meet my nephew?” Her blonde hair shifted around. It was curly, and it looked like it was bouncing. “He’s nice, I promise.” She peeked out just a little. She was pretty. Really pretty. The prettiest girl I’d ever seen. She looked like a princess—no, an angel. Her eyes were the same color as the sky and her hair was bright, like sunshine. “She’s beautiful,” I whispered on

accident. Uncle Gunner was standing by me again. I didn’t even notice until he laughed. I looked up at him. “She’s definitely that, kiddo,” he said. I didn’t say anything. She was still looking at me, not hiding again. I liked being able to see her. I didn’t want her to hide. Uncle Gunner crouched down next to me, looking at her. He put his arm around my shoulders. “This is my nephew, Gabe,” he said to her. He looked at me, and said, “This is Indian’s daughter, Ashlynn. We call her Ash.” Ashlynn.

“Hi,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t scare her. Why did she seem afraid of me? I didn’t want her to be. She gave me a little wave, and said, “Hi.” “Why don’t you go over and get to know him?” Indian asked her and she grabbed onto his pants tighter. I really wanted her to come out all the way. “Do you like to draw?” I asked. She looked up at Indian. He nodded, then she did, too. I ran over to my backpack. It was a super cool Harley one Uncle Gunner got me for starting first grade. I wished the motorcycle on it was a Fat Boy like

I wanted instead of the Dyna Wide Glide, but it was still awesome. Inside, I had a bunch of stuff for drawing— paper, colored pencils, crayons, markers. I loved to draw. It was my favorite. I was putting all of my stuff onto the table when she said, “You have lots of colors.” She wasn’t behind Indian anymore. She was standing next to him. She didn’t come closer than that, though. “You can use them all,” I told her. She came over and sat by me. She was even prettier up close. We colored for a while, then Indian said, “I have to go talk to Pres. You

okay for a bit, Firefly?” I looked at Ashlynn while she nodded. “You’ll take care of my girl, right, Gabe?” “Right,” I said, looking at Indian. “Good.” Yeah, good. I would take care of Ashlynn. I wanted to. She was pretty and nice. I wanted her to be around me more. “You wanna be my best friend?” I asked. She looked at me. I thought she might not say anything because she was shy. She smiled and nodded. “Okay.” I smiled, too. We could be best friends until we got older. Then, we could get married. I could be a

Disciple like Uncle Gunner. I could always protect her, just like I told Indian I would.

Pulling myself from the memories, I focused on the little girl in front of me. Man, she really did remind me of Ash at that age. Same curly blonde hair above blue eyes, though hers were a bit darker than Ash’s. It was a total mind-fuck, especially since Ash was somewhere in

the house for the first time in years. “I’m thirsty,” the little girl said in a sleepy voice. Getting a hold of myself, I knelt down in front of her. I smiled, trying to look as non-threatening as a six-foot-two biker covered in tattoos could. “What’s your name, little princess?” Her smile got huge at the nickname. “Emmaline, but you can call me pwincess if you want.” Damn, she was pretty fuckin’ cute. “Princess, I’m Sketch.” “Setch,” she repeated back at me. Almost. “Where’s your mom, little princess?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe

outside?” Well, wasn’t that fuckin’ perfect? I got to be babysitter because someone couldn’t keep it in their pants. “You just need some water?” I asked. Emmaline nodded. Fuck it. Kid was thirsty, and it wasn’t her fault she was wandering around alone. “Then, let’s get you some.” I set the bottle of scotch on the ground. No need to be escorting a kid around with a full bottle in my hand. Before I could stand up, Emmaline reached her arms out to me with a little pout. It flashed me back to the woman with the butterfly tattoo the other night. Her pout had done shit nothing to me, but

this little girl had me reaching out to pick her up. Maybe the only difference was Emmaline was actually a little girl and could pull off the pout, but it seemed bigger than that. Somehow, this girl already had me wrapped around her finger and I would probably never see her again. As I carried her back the way I came, Emmaline got good and comfortable in my arms. Her little head moved around to take in the new vantage point before giving me a good, long look. “How old are you, little princess?” I asked. “Three, but my birthday is real soon.”

Three, nearly four—close to the same age Ash had been that first day we met. Shit, I really needed to stop going there. Stone and Roadrunner were still in the kitchen and both smiled at Emmaline in my arms. “What’re you doing out of bed, baby girl?” Roadrunner asked. So, they knew whose kid this was. But “out of bed”? That didn’t make any sense. Unless they just made up one of the beds while Mom got her rocks off or something. “Thirsty,” Emmaline explained. Stone immediately turned around to the cabinets for a cup. Roadrunner came

over and grabbed hold of Emmaline. I wasn’t even going to think about why I felt bereft as he took her from me. Not touching that with a ten-foot pole. “Where’s your mom?” Roadrunner asked, as if I were too fucking dense to think of that question. “I think she might’a gone outside,” Emmaline replied. Stone handed over a pink sippy cup he’d filled with water. Emmaline took it with a smile and started drinking. I was busy staring at the cup. Why the hell was that thing in our kitchen? Did her mom bring it with? “Let’s get you back in bed,” Roadrunner said as he headed out of the

room with her. I just stared after them, totally fucking lost. Something wasn’t adding up. If that bottle of Lagavulin weren’t still sealed shut, I’d have thought I was three sheets to the wind already. Stone must have noticed my confusion because he cleared his throat. Once he had my attention, he spoke. “She’s Ash’s.” I just kept looking at him. “Emmy,” he said, nodding in the direction Roadrunner went, “she’s Ash’s.” Emmy. I liked that… She’s Ash’s. Holy. Fucking. Shit. Those words finally took on meaning

in my head. Emmaline—Emmy, was Ash’s daughter. Ash had a fucking daughter. Ash… “Three, but my birthday is real soon.” Ash had a three-nearly-four-year-old daughter. Ash left me almost five years ago. I’d stopped doing the math on it, stopped tracking how long it had been since she had left me. I did the math then, though. Four years, seven months. Emmy was nearly four, plus nine months of pregnancy. Fuck. No. She wouldn’t.

I tore out of the kitchen and flew through the hallway where I’d found Emmy, past the stairs, and out to the back deck. Ash was there, standing in the middle of the yard, facing away from me. She looked different, the silhouette of her body more curved than I remembered and her curly blonde hair falling farther down her back. Still, I would have known it was her anywhere. All around and in front of her, little sparks of light flashed and died away. Fireflies. She was watching them flicker around the yard. Indian had called Ash firefly since before I knew her. He used to say it was

because her smiles weren’t constant given how introverted she was, but when one came out, it was like a light shining out of her. He wasn’t exaggerating. Not one fucking bit. For a moment, the image of her transfixed me. I wanted to break out my sketchpad and commit the sight to paper so I would never lose it. I wanted to ink it into my own skin so it would always be with me. Then, I remembered Emmy. The rage returned, burning underneath my skin. Storming across the yard, I clenched my hands at my sides. I couldn’t touch her. I couldn’t be

responsible for what might happen if I did. Just as I got close, Ash looked over her shoulder at me and jumped at the sight. Whether that was because I was not who she was expecting or my fury was clear on my face, I didn’t know. Didn’t really fucking care. “Is she mine?” I demanded. “What?” My heart was beating triple time in my chest. The shock to my system at seeing Ash’s beautiful face again was almost enough to break through the cloud of anger, but not quite. “Emmy,” I explained. “Is. She. Mine?”

Ash went pale. “How did you—” “She was out in the hall. Woke up and needed a drink. Funny thing is, she says she’s about to turn four. It’s been just about nine months more than that since you left. So, I’ll ask one last time. Is she my fucking daughter?” I roared. Ash shrunk back, and answered in a small voice, “I don’t know.” She…what? “You don’t know?” Her eyes fell to the ground. “I would have told you if I knew for sure.” She would have… Holy. Fuck. No. Not possible. A ringing in my ears filled the silence in the yard. Emmy might not be mine.

Ash didn’t know for sure who the father was. Ash…Ash slept with someone else. But the timeline… She fucked someone else right after she left me. I spent months—fuck, over a year— doing nothing but missing her, trying to find her. I didn’t touch another fucking woman until Ash had been gone for over eighteen months. But she…fuck. How long did she even wait before letting some other guy in where only I had been? A week? Two? Couldn’t have been that long if he might be Emmy’s father. Fuck. Ash still wasn’t looking at me and

that was a really fucking good thing. I couldn’t see her face. Couldn’t see those eyes. Without another fucking word, I left. I couldn’t be anywhere near her. I couldn’t handle the blow she just dealt. I needed to get the fuck out of there. I needed the Lagavulin. No, fuck that—I needed something cheaper, something I could really toss back like there was no tomorrow. The scotch would have to wait. I needed to make this night disappear.

Well, that went…about as well as I’d expected. After a while, I made my way over to the deck and sat on the edge of a step that rose a foot above the grass. I heard a bike start up around the front of the house. Given the way the rider peeled

out of there, I was guessing it was Gabe. Strike that. Sketch. He was Sketch now. He was probably going to stay at the clubhouse—anywhere to get away from Emmy and me. No, probably just me. The fire in his eyes hadn’t just been about anger. He’d been ready to claim Emmy. If I said she was his, he would have accepted it—accepted her—in a heartbeat. It wouldn’t have changed the fact that he was pissed at me for keeping her away all these years, but he would have embraced the role of father. He was hurt.

Maybe you should just say she’s his, a voice in my head whispered. Absolutely not. I couldn’t do that to him. I couldn’t lie and say Emmy was his when I wasn’t sure. That wasn’t fair to him. And anyway, even if I could convince myself that wasn’t a terrible thing to do, that ship had sailed. I wished life had been different; wish the moment I found out I was pregnant, I could have been sure he was the father. I could have—would have—come back to Hoffman. He might have been upset, but back then, he would have welcomed me home with open arms. The pregnancy would have been a shock, but he always used to talk about the family we would

have one day. Growing up, his parents hadn’t been great and I only had Dad. The club was an amazing family to us, but we always planned to make one of our own. Emmy might have come sooner than we’d planned, but Gabe would have been over the moon. Emmy would have grown up with more than just me. She would have grown up with a father who adored her. She would have had the kind of love my dad gave me, and there is nothing in the world I could want more for her. And I…I could’ve had Gabe. But dwelling on “if onlys” wasn’t going to do a thing. That dream wasn’t real. Life had taken a very different turn

and there was no changing that. Besides, I was ignoring the reason I left in the first place. Being back, being surrounded by the Disciples caring for Emmy and I the way a family would, being near Gabe again—it was all distracting me from the bigger picture. I didn’t leave because I was pregnant. I left because I couldn’t be with a Disciple anymore. After Dad died, I saw with stark clarity what I had ignored for most of my life. Being a Disciple wasn’t just riding and brotherhood, it was danger. It was the kind of all-consuming, destructive danger that stole good men from the world. The club had already stolen one

man I loved; I couldn’t watch another die too young. It destroyed me to do it, but I knew I couldn’t convince Gabe to leave the Disciples. So, I left without him. That decision was one I didn’t let myself dwell on often. I knew it was the gravest mistake I had ever made, and, God willing, I would never be in a position to make another like it. Still, I couldn’t imagine not making it. Even if I could do everything over, where would it leave me? Would I still have my daughter? I wouldn’t give up my Emmy for anything in the world. Not even Gabe.

Not even to spare myself everything that had happened since I left. That knowledge, though it didn’t erase the pain, got me through each day. And it got me off that step and back inside.

Four days later, I was at the clubhouse for the first time since my return. The building serving as the headquarters for the Disciples was once a warehouse for a chain furniture store that went belly-up. The location was relatively remote, no other warehouses or businesses nearby, nothing much at all

around for a couple miles. The bank that seized the property was desperate to move it and got no takers, so Dad told me the club got it for a song. Good thing, too, because they had to sink a lot of money into making the large, cavernous space into a proper clubhouse. Now, it housed a huge lounge area with several couches, TVs, a top of the line sound system, bar, pool table— everything the guys wanted. Decorated in bikers-don’t-do-frilly chic, the furniture, showing the wear it received, was very comfortable, though not exceedingly attractive. Beyond that was a huge kitchen with twice the counter and storage space of an average home,

though it was not done up like a true industrial kitchen. There was also a large room that remained locked at all times where the guys had church—their private, members-only meetings. Then, halls led to a variety of rooms. All the guys had their own rooms at the clubhouse. If they didn’t want to go home, partied too much to make it, or were on a club-wide lockdown, they stayed there. A few might be all-out living there at any given time. It was up to them. The rooms were large, with big beds and plenty of space for furniture including a desk and such. Each also had a private bathroom. There were extra rooms, too. These

might go to new prospects, be available for guests, or they might be rooms where guys fucked particularly skanky club girls they didn’t want in their own rooms. When I was younger, I had my own room next to Dad’s. When I was really little, if we were to stay at the clubhouse, I would share his. As I grew up, he claimed one just for me. That refurbished warehouse, even more than the farmhouse we were staying at, was like home to me. It was where I had spent most of my time as a kid, besides school. Dad and I had a house in town, but club business had no set hours and even when there was nothing to do, Dad liked to have us both

around his brothers. Our house was more a place where we slept than a true home. Where the Disciples were—that was home. Being back was difficult. Being back with all the Disciples in attendance was even harder. The club was having a party. The guys did this often enough. I was reassured it wasn’t for Emmy and I, but I wasn’t buying it, mostly because I had gotten different answers. Roadrunner told me it was just for shits and giggles. Tank told me it was because Cami and Gauge were back from their miniHoneymoon. That was the reason I found more suspicious since the club had just

hosted their wedding and reception at the farmhouse the weekend before, and they’d been back for a couple days already. The Disciples might love a party, but two that close together weren’t likely. I didn’t say anything. Emmy was exuberant, whether the party was for her or not. The party had been in full swing for a few hours, the sun mostly set and big fire pits lighting the yard. Everyone wandering around the land behind the clubhouse had drinks and increasingly empty plates of smoked pork. “I love this,” Deni cheered from beside me.

I turned my attention back to the picnic table I was sitting at. Across from me was Deni, a tiny blonde like me, but with far more attitude, who was married to Slick. Slick had been with the club since he was just eighteen, and he and Deni were together when she was still in high school. She didn’t grow up with the club, but I knew her for several years before I left. Now, she and Slick had a little girl, Jules, who was one, and Deni was pregnant with their second. Next to me was Cami. The new bride was a bombshell with long brown hair and a curvy body. Her son, Levi, was sitting in her lap. Cami had been like a cousin to me growing up and the excited way she

greeted me and fawned over Emmy told me that hadn’t changed for her, even though she left several years before I did. I looked to Deni, questions clear on my face, and she explained, “Both of you being back. I was the only permanent woman around here for a while, now I have you both. I love it.” Cami laughed, and I forced a smile. I wasn’t going to explain—again—that this was temporary for Emmy and me. I looked around the yard for my girl. Last I’d seen her, she’d been attached to Daz. I wasn’t sure what to think of that, but he seemed to be behaving himself when she was around, for the most part. Now, Daz

was nowhere in sight. The part of me used to being alone in keeping an eye on Emmy started to panic a bit when I didn’t know immediately where to find her. Then, like a homing signal, I narrowed in on her infectious giggle. Across the yard, near one of the big fire pits, Emmy was in Sketch’s arms. She was laughing while he grinned at her. When she had become comfortable with him, I didn’t know. He’d gotten her water the first night we were there, but I didn’t know of it being anything more than that. Since that night, Sketch had not been around. I assumed he was staying at the clubhouse. Whether he was avoiding

both of us or just me, I hadn’t been sure. The way he was holding Emmy in that moment was my answer. I didn’t know how to react to the sight of them together. All I knew for sure was the burn flaring in my chest wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “Alright, ladies,” Roadrunner rumbled from behind me, shattering my attention on Emmy and Sketch. “Looks like it’s about time for me to get the little ones out of here.” Roadrunner had volunteered—or insisted, demanded—to watch the kids for the night so all us parents could stay and have the night off. Cami had argued most when she first got to the party.

Apparently, Gauge had agreed without discussing it with her. She’d been up in arms about how they had just gotten back a couple days ago from leaving Levi behind when Gauge grabbed her and started whispering in her ear. Well, it was almost whispering. More like growling. I heard more than I needed to, including something about her getting drunk and his hand on her throat. Like I said, I heard way too much. I’d been hesitant to agree. Emmy had never spent the night without me. Jasmine had been a godsend in watching Emmy for me, but she’d never done overnight. This was mostly because I never had a need to ask her.

Emmy didn’t share my hesitation. She was thrilled to have her first sleepover, even if it was with a burly biker and two one-year-olds. Her absolute conviction when telling me it was something she wanted to do had me agreeing. Still, I wasn’t going to be drinking much. If things went south, I wanted to be clearheaded and good to go get her. “I’ll go get Emmy,” I told Roadrunner. Walking toward Sketch was enough to have my heart pounding, but I tried to keep my face clear. I was just getting my daughter so I could say goodnight. There was no more to it than that. “Momma!” Emmy called when I got

close. “Time to get to your sleepover, baby,” I said, my eyes staying on her. It didn’t matter that Sketch’s face was a foot away from hers. I was laser focused. “Yay!” She looked to Sketch. I did not. “I have to go. Me and Roadrunner is having a sleepover.” “Are having a sleepover,” I corrected by rote. “Right. We are having a sleepover. Jules and Levi too, but they’re babies,” she explained to Sketch. “Have fun, princess,” Sketch rumbled. I felt the breath wheeze out of me. Princess?

I watched in a removed way as he set her down and forced myself to pull it together when she opened her little arms to me. “Have a good night, baby,” I said as I knelt down and hugged her. “Be good for Roadrunner. No telling him what to do. He already knows all the rules, including bed time, so don’t try anything.” “I’ll be good. I pwomise,” she said. I’d believe that when I saw it. “Give Momma some lovin’.” She delivered right away, giving me a sweet little kiss. Then, Roadrunner was there. “You ready to go, baby girl?”

“Yes!” “Don’t hesitate to call,” I told Roadrunner. “Don’t worry, Ash. We’ve got this under control. Right, Emmy?” “Yep!” I wasn’t so sure, but I let it go. If Emmy got upset, I knew he would call. I watched as they walked away, feeling an unfamiliar unease. Maybe Emmy wasn’t the one who was going to struggle with the overnight separation. “I want a paternity test.” Wait. What? I wheeled around, having completely forgotten Sketch was still standing there. “What?”

He leveled me with a dark stare. “I want a paternity test.” Crap. “I…” Sketch cut in before I could figure out anything to say. “She’s mine. I fucking know it. I want proof, and then I want her to know me as her dad.” “I…” I tried again. “Make it happen. I’ll pay whatever it costs.” With that, he walked away. Crap. I couldn’t do a paternity test. I couldn’t see those results. I couldn’t know. I couldn’t…

“Ash?” Blinking out of the daze of fear, I looked to my left to see Cami there. “Huh?” “You okay?” she asked. “Yeah. Fine.” I turned my eyes back in the direction Sketch left. He’d made it halfway across the yard before finding something new to hold his attention. Namely, a brunette in an unreasonably short dress. The club girls had started showing up a bit ago. That was why Roadrunner had determined it was time for the kids to go. Watching the woman cozy up to a willing Sketch hardly penetrated. In the back of my mind, I knew it was

something I didn’t want to see. In any other situation, I knew it would make me sick to see it, but after he just demanded a paternity test, a test I couldn’t have done and couldn’t explain the reason why, it was just an ache I could barely identify. “Ash, you don’t need to watch that,” Cami said, her tone gentle. She assumed I was upset because Sketch was going to fuck that brunette. Not a bad assumption, so I didn’t correct her. “Yeah,” I agreed. I was going to let her lead me away like she was trying to with a soft hand on my arm. I was going to bury the emotions and get through the night. I’d figure out

what to do next when I was alone. Then, the brunette tossed her hair over one shoulder and I got a look at her face. God hated me. It was the only explanation. “Tori,” I whispered. “What?” Cami asked. I turned away, but not fast enough to miss Sketch leading her toward the clubhouse. “I need to go. Now.” “Talk to me,” Cami insisted. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t sure I could get the words out, but I could tell she wasn’t going to let me go until I explained. So I did. In a rush, I told her the whole story. I told her exactly who

Victoria was to me, who she’d once been to Sketch. Crap. I was going to lose it. “I need to go,” I repeated. “I can’t be here.” “Babe, I don’t think you should be driving like this.” “I can’t be here.” “Shit,” she muttered. “Stay here. Please, just one minute. I’m going to get you a ride home. Okay?” I gave an absent nod. Sketch with Tori. He was in there with her. He was going to kiss her. Fuck her. I couldn’t stop the images from forming in my head. “Ash?” I made myself focus on Cami

and the younger guy next to her. He had a prospect patch on the front of his cut. He wasn’t a full brother yet, but he was earning a place among the Disciples. I was pretty sure I’d seen him at the farmhouse once, but we hadn’t been introduced. “This is Jack—” she cut herself off quickly. “Sorry,” she said to him, “I keep forgetting.” To me, she started over, “This is Ace. He’s going to drive you home.” Home. Yeah, I didn’t really have one of those, did I? “Nice to meet you,” I said. He gave me a chin lift. So, he was the quiet type. Fine by me, I was too. Even better, he got me out of there right

away. As far as I was concerned, Ace was wonderful.

I sat in my room at the clubhouse for a while, nursing a beer. I’d kicked… whatever her name was out before we’d even made it back here. The giggling and strong perfume might not have been deal breakers before, but after being near Ash again, I couldn’t take it. Ash didn’t do

that annoying giggling thing. She laughed sometimes, but only when she actually thought something was funny. And her laugh was more of a chuckle than a giggle. It was quiet and deep and always went right to my cock. She didn’t bathe in perfume either. Didn’t even wear the shit. She had a vanilla soap she liked. You could barely smell it unless you got close in a way only I had the privilege to. When you were right up against her skin, she smelled like frosting. She tasted even fucking better. Shit, I was giving myself a fucking boner after I sent that easy piece home. Ash had been back in town for five days, I had barely been around her, and

she already owned my balls again. Wonderful. Fucking peachy. I got to my feet. Sitting in a room, alone, thinking about her was not what I needed. I needed more fucking booze and to see if I couldn’t find another chick to scratch the itch once I was a little more chill. Back in the yard, I saw the buffet of options for distraction had increased by a lot. Disciples’ parties stayed relatively calm during the day, particularly now that there were kids around again— family time, essentially. At night, that went out the window. Family.

I’d gotten to be around Emmy again for the afternoon. Christ, that girl was something else. She had so much personality. With how shy Ash always was, it was surprising her daughter was just the opposite. Emmy loved attention. She loved to be around people. She made people want to be around her. Fuck, she was cute. The more time I spent with her, the more I watched her laugh and held her in my arms, the more that voice in my head shouted she was mine. She had to be. Down to my bones, I knew it was true. I didn’t care if it freaked Ash out; I was going to get the proof. Okay, yeah, I needed to stop thinking

about that shit, too. While pulling a cold longneck from a drum of ice, I was confronted with every man’s least favorite thing: pissed off female. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Cami snapped at me. Yeah, I was not in the mood for that shit. I didn’t want some woman I was getting it regularly from being snippy with me, I certainly wasn’t taking it from some chick whose pussy was firmly off limits. No fucking thank you. “Yeah, I do,” I said back, walking away while using a key from my pocket to pop the cap off the bottle in my hand.

“How could you do that to her?” she said before I got more than a couple steps away. I tried to swallow it down. Out of respect for my brothers—both her dad and her new husband—I tried to hold it in, but I was done. “How could I do that to her?” I returned. “How could I get some fucking pussy even though she’s around? Guess what? I’d gladly have not gotten that from anyone but her for fucking years. She’s the one who took off. She’s the one who left me here. She’s the one who kept that fucking little girl away when she might be my goddamn daughter!” “I know that,” Cami whispered.

“Then what the fuck did I do that was so fucked?” She shook her head. “Did it have to be her? Of all the women in the world— hell, of all the women here tonight—did it have to be her?” “What are you talkin’ about, Cam?” A look of surprise passed over her face. “You don’t know. You didn’t remember her.” I waited for a second for some more explanation before I warned, “Cami.” “Did you get her name?” Valid question. “Veronica? Valerie? Something with a V?” Cami looked sad before she informed me, “Victoria.”

Victoria? I turned it over in my head, trying to understand why that mattered. Victoria… “Tori,” Cami offered. Tori. Fuck. “No.” Cami nodded in a sad way that only confirmed what I was realizing. My head whipped around, searching the yard for Ash. “She left,” Cami informed me. “Right about the same moment you took the bitch inside.” Fuck. “She went home?”

“Yeah. Ace drove her. She wasn’t good to drive herself.” I extended the open bottle her way with a jerk. “Take care of this?” The moment her hand wrapped around the beer, I started to move around her. Good fucking thing I’d only had two beers all day. I’d been preoccupied with Emmy. “Sketch,” Cami called. I stopped, but I wasn’t giving her long. I needed to get out of there. “I know you’re still pissed at her, but she’s hurting. Not just about Tori, about all of it. Go easy on her.” Anyone else would have gotten a “fuck off” and nothing more. Cami grew

up with us. She knew as well as I did how sensitive Ash was, how easily she shut herself in. “She’s my girl, I won’t hurt her.” Without giving her a chance to respond to that, I hightailed it the fuck out of there. I blew out of the clubhouse lot on my bike, the memories from years ago reminding me just how much I messed up. Six months back, Gunner finally delivered on the promise he made me years ago. When I turned sixteen, if I kept my nose clean, he would move me out of the trailer with my fucked up parents to live with him. I kept up my end, and the day after my birthday, he

kept his. Getting away from the two alcoholics who made me was good enough, but it also meant I had to change schools. I finished my sophomore year by driving over to my old high school, but transferred the start of junior year. For the first time, Ash and I were going to school together. I was fucking thrilled. Ash had been mine since we were kids, even if she didn’t realize it yet. She was a freshman now and two years ago, Indian told me she could date once she was in high school. I’d finally be able to make it real, and I could do it while walking

the halls with her and keeping all the assholes after her at bay. Only, it wasn’t going that way. We didn’t have classes together since we were in different grades. I’d managed to get the counselor to put me in the same lunch period as her, but within the first month, Ash never actually went to the damn cafeteria. The first couple days, she said she had to change part of her schedule so she was going to her counselor, but wasn’t getting in because too many people were in there. It sucked, but I believed her. Then, it was meeting with a teacher about doing some independent study. Then, it was needing

to be in the library. I told her I would go to the library with her, but she insisted she needed to work and I should hang out in the cafeteria and meet people. Yeah, because I’d rather meet people than be with her. God, she was so clueless sometimes. That day, I finally put my foot down. While I walked her to English, her last class before lunch, I stopped her. “Today, you’re coming to lunch and you’re sitting with me,” I told her. If she thought I missed the way she bit her lip, she was crazy. I knew her. I could read her nerves like a neon sign. “I really need to do more work in the library.”

“Ash, school just started. How much work can you have?” “I just have a little more,” she kept trying. “Okay, we can go after school. Library’s open. We’ll stay until you’re done and then I’ll drive you home.” I was going to corner her if I had to. I didn’t know whether she was just uncomfortable around that many people because she was so shy or it was something more, but she needed to start talking. “My dad doesn’t know I’ll be staying.” “I’ll call him after school to let him know while you head to the library.”

I watched her realize she wasn’t getting out of it. Then, in a resigned tone that prickled me, she said, “Okay.” I reached up to stroke her soft cheek, wishing I could kiss her like I wanted to. Soon. When the bell rang at the end of the period, I booked it over to her locker. I wasn’t about to let her sneak off once I finally got her to agree to come to lunch. When she looked my way from stashing her morning books, it was clear she knew what I was doing. Like I cared. Ash knew me as well as I knew her. I wasn’t trying to be sneaky. I

threw two of my books into her locker even as she rolled her eyes. She shut her locker and without hesitation, I grabbed her hand and led us to the cafeteria. I felt Ash look my way when I held onto her hand through the halls. It wasn’t new for me to be touching her in whatever way I could, but I’d never had much of an opportunity at school. Eyes moved our way and I loved the attention. Ash was mine, even if she didn’t know it yet. I wanted that to be clear to everyone. When we made it into the lunchroom and through the line of shit food, I got a sense of unease at the way Ash inched into me. I carried a tray with our food

on it and she seemed to be trying to disappear into my side. I led her through the room, hoping she’d adjust on her own. Ash hid herself a lot. She always had. I preferred to see if she would come out of her shell without me pushing the issue, and sometimes it worked, but not always. She was who she was. Her shyness was a part of her. I sat us at the end of the table I’d been at for the last couple weeks. Some of the guys I met in auto shop the first few days were there. A couple of the guys were jocks, so it was kind of a hub of activity. I got chin lifts and a couple greetings. I returned them, and said,

“Guys, this is my girl, Ash.” The guys sent welcomes her way and she offered a shy smile. I smirked at her. She had no idea how appealing that smile was. They were all going to want her, but they were shit out of luck. We were eating and I was actually getting Ash to talk to me even though there were plenty of people she didn’t know nearby. She was telling me about a paper she had to write for English when a catty voice piped in next to us. “Well, isn’t this a surprise. Ashlynn with a table full of guys. You’re right at home, aren’t you?” I looked up at the bitch in question. Thin in a desperate way, dressed like

the club girls who hung around the Disciples, makeup like she was going out to party. I knew her. Tori. The guys had talked about her and pointed her out once. She was pretty popular for certain oral skills. Ash didn’t say anything. Her shoulders curled in until she nearly hunched over the food she was no longer eating. I could feel my blood pressure rising. I didn’t know what the fuck Tori was trying to imply. Fact was, Ash had always been around guys more than chicks. That was part of growing up with the club. That didn’t change facts, though. Those facts being that Ash was definitely still a virgin—she

hadn’t even been kissed, for fuck’s sake —and anyone around her for more than a few minutes could guess it. Where a bitch like Tori, whose reputation was probably more than just rumors, thought she got off running her mouth like that, I didn’t know. Tori’s eyes came to me. “Gabe, you might want to rethink that one,” she said, sending a sneer Ash’s way that had me clenching my jaw. “There’s way better for a guy like you.” With that, Ash was out of her seat. Before I could even speak, she was nearly running from the room. I had a lot of shit I wanted to say to the bitch next to me, but she wasn’t my priority.

Ash was. Ash was always my priority. I caught up to her just beyond the cafeteria, grabbing her arm to stop her. “What the hell was that?” I demanded. “Nothing.” She wouldn’t look at me. “Fuck that, Ash. That was not nothing.” Her face was set as she looked at my jaw. “I said it was nothing. Leave it alone.” I cupped her cheek, drawing her blue eyes up to mine. “Don’t do that, Firefly. Talk to me.” Her eyes darted away again before she said, “It’s not a big deal.”

That’s when it hit me. I’d been thinking maybe Tori was being a bitch because she had some illusion of getting with me and was trying to tear down Ash when she saw us together. That wasn’t it, though. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t new. “How long?” Ash didn’t cover the way her eyes flared in surprise. “What?” “How long has this been going on? How long have you been keeping this to yourself?” My body was starting to vibrate with fury. No one fucked with her. No one. She shook her head and tried to pull away from me, but I wrapped my

arm around her waist and brought her closer. “How. Long?” I demanded. “Always!” she shot back at me, pushing away. “They’ve always done it. Since we were kids! It gets worse every year.” My vision tunneled. I stormed back into the cafeteria. Ash was behind me, calling my name to stop me. Fuck that. I found Tori a table away from where we’d been and went right to her. “Apologize.” Her whole posse looked at me, fear flickering in some faces. Tori was too fucking stupid to feel the same.

“What?” “Apologize to Ash.” Her eyes moved beyond me and she spoke to Ash, proving just how fucking dense she was. “So, are you fucking him, too? Is that why he’s standing up for you?” Her eyes came back to mine. “Guess what, new kid? You’re not the only one getting that service around here.” I was going to fucking explode. Ash cowered behind me in the same way she hid behind her dad the day we met. I hadn’t seen her actually hide that way in years. I slammed both fists onto the table. “You don’t fucking talk about her

that way. You don’t say a goddamn thing to or about her ever again. You want to run your mouth? Maybe you should run it about your own shit. I might be new, but I know how many guys you sucked off at the football after-party last week. How about we start talking about how the whole offensive line got a chance?” Turning from her, I looked up to the quiet room to find everyone looking my way. I pointed at Ash. “Any of you thinks to fuck with her, you answer to me, and you answer to the motherfuckin’ Savage Disciples. Got me?”

My muscles were tense beneath my skin when I parked outside the farmhouse. My body was ready for a fight, ready to come out swinging. The memories of the bitches who hurt Ash, the knowledge that I reopened those wounds tonight, had me on edge.

I tried to breathe. I couldn’t go inside like that. I’d scare the shit out of her. Ash didn’t respond to confrontation. Aggression made her retreat every time. Besides, she didn’t deserve that. It was my fuck up. I needed to rein it in. Every part of me screamed to barrel through that door, to get to her and fix this shit, but I held myself back on the front porch. The memories were still swirling. I could still remember one of the deans escorting me from the cafeteria. They asked for an explanation, and I gave them one. They asked for an apology, and I refused. They asked if I understood I had taken things too far. I told them they could go fuck themselves if they thought

I wasn’t standing up for my girl who wouldn’t do it herself. That was what turned the two-day suspension into a week. It didn’t matter to me. Yelling at those bitches, earning that suspension, got me the greatest fucking gift I’d ever been given. A one-week suspension meant I was barred from school grounds, effective immediately. Assholes wouldn’t even listen when I explained I was Ash’s ride home. As my legal guardian, Gunner got called in. The dean wasn’t exactly thrilled when his response was to tell me I’d done good. I left about an hour before school let out. Gunner stuck

around to get Ash, having insisted they send a note to one of her classes to let her know about the change of plans. I was hanging around the clubhouse when she got there. She and Gunner walked in nearly an hour after school let out. He took her for fucking ice cream while he knew I was waiting. Whether that was to check in on her or bust my chops, I didn’t know. Probably both. Ash ran right to me and threw her arms around my middle. Damn if that didn’t make me feel like a king. Having Ash close always did. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muffled against my chest.

“What are you talkin’ about, Firefly?” I asked. “It’s my fault you got in trouble.” Hell no. She was not going to think that shit. I grabbed onto her arm, having to pull a bit to get her to release her hold on me—which made me feel even better. I led her out back where we could be alone. Bikers were nosy fuckers and we didn’t need an audience. I’d had words with Indian after I got back. I told him straight up what had been happening and promised if my threat hadn’t put an end to it, I would see that it didn’t go on. He thanked me for watching out for his girl, not that

he needed to. I promised him I would a long time ago and I’d be doing it with or without that promise as long as she let me. Outside, Ash threw herself against me again. I let her do it, thinking I could get used to that. I gave her a minute to hold me, twirling my fingers through her blonde curls. Her hair was so fuckin’ soft, I couldn’t help but touch it when I got the chance. She never seemed to mind. “Was Gunner mad?” she asked after a while. “No, babe.” She stepped back a bit to look up at me. Those blue eyes of hers were round

and bright—too bright. She was on the verge of tears. “Really?” she asked, her tone worried. I cupped the side of her face, making sure she paid attention to how serious mine was. “I promise. Once he heard why I did it, he was glad I did.” Her eyes moved away from mine, her chin pushing down against my hand. I didn’t release my hold. Ash knew I didn’t like her hiding from me. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. She shrugged. She was pulling back in the only way she could by not speaking. I gave her a look that told her that shit wasn’t going to fly. “I don’t know,” she sighed. She

tried again to step back and since I could see her mulling over her words, I let her make that play. It took her a while before she went on. “I guess I never wanted to think about it when I was with you. You didn’t go to school with us, so you didn’t know them. You didn’t know what they were saying to me. When I was with you, I could pretend it wasn’t happening.” I didn’t like it, but I could accept it. Wasn’t like I could change the past anyway. “Why didn’t you tell me once I transferred?” The fear and worry in her eyes was not something I liked seeing. The fact

that she didn’t answer me, I liked even less. “Were you afraid I’d believe them?” I asked, hoping like hell that wasn’t it. Ash just shrugged again. Fuck. “Dammit, Ash. How could you even think that?” Her head went down, her beautiful face disappearing behind her security blanket of curls. “I just couldn’t stand it if you thought of me that way.” Her words hurt to hear. It hurt to think she even worried about that for a moment, let alone weeks. Still, I heard what she wasn’t saying and saw the

opportunity I’d been waiting for. “Why?” “Why?” she echoed. I didn’t say anything else, just waited for my answer. She gave me one, but it wasn’t what I was looking for. “Because you’re my best friend.” “Is that all I am to you?” Her head came up in surprise. “What?” I wanted her to say it. I wanted her to admit she hadn’t thought of me as a friend any more than I had of her. I wanted it, but I was tired of waiting. I took two steps closer until she was pressed to my chest again, thrilled

when she didn’t retreat. Without a word, I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and kissed her. It was perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. Her lips were sweet, soft, exactly like I’d been imagining for years. No, they were fucking better than that. It killed me to pull away from them, to end that kiss, but I did. “I don’t think of you as just a friend, Ash.” She stared up at me, her pink lips— ones I was dying to get back to kissing —parted slightly, her wide eyes blinking like she was dazed.

“You gotta give me something here, babe,” I pleaded. Then, my girl—my beautiful, incredible fucking Ash—gave me something. Lifting up onto her toes, she pressed her lips to mine. That was it, everything I needed. It was the only thing I would ever need. Ash in my arms, giving me her sweet kiss…still, she gave me more. Pulling back only an inch, her words whispered across my mouth. “I don’t think of you as just a friend either.” And that was it. That was how Ash and I began. From that day, she was mine and I was hers. I swore nothing would

ever be able to change that. Until something did. I lost her, a fate I never could have imagined. For nearly five years, I had to get on with life without her in it. Until she came back. For whatever fucked reason, I’d convinced myself that was it. She’d left. She’d gone off and had Emmy. She’d kept that beautiful little girl from me. I was pissed, more pissed than I could ever remember being, and I was done. Until Cami told me Ash took off. I hadn’t really known what the fuck I was doing when I jumped on my bike and sped over there. It had been instinct —pure and simple. Taking care of her

was engrained in me, down to my soul. Standing there with the memory of Ash’s first kiss in my head, I knew. I was moving through the house then, my feet carrying me right to her door. I had the clarity of mind to knock instead of barging in, but I was about to lose patience when the door opened. There, in an oversized Disciples’ supporter tee she’d worn to bed for years, her eyes slightly reddened from tears, was my Ash. Mine. “Go away, Sketch.” Not a fucking chance. I backed her into the room. She fought it until I muscled my way passed

the doorframe. She threw up an arm and turned her back to me, walking away to put space between us. I shut the door and flipped the flimsy lock on the knob for good measure. “What do you want?” she snapped. “I didn’t fuck her.” Her body locked up for a moment before she could hide it. “Good for you.” “Ash,” I called. “I don’t care if you fucked some slut.” “I didn’t recognize her. Not ‘til Cami said something. But I didn’t fuck her anyway.” “Sketch, just get out. I don’t care.”

She could throw attitude all she wanted, I wasn’t going anywhere. “If I’d realized who she was, I wouldn’t have fucking touched her at all. I would have thrown her ass out.” Ash didn’t even respond that time. She just turned to glare at me, her arms crossed and hip popped out. She was a work of fucking art. “Doesn’t matter, though. I threw her ass out once I realized I couldn’t fuck her. Didn’t matter that I had no idea who she was.” Still nothing from Ash, so I went on. “I couldn’t fuck her, Firefly. I couldn’t have her when she wasn’t you.” That got through. The nickname her dad had given her as a little girl caused

the crack and my confession imparted the shattering blow. Her first retaliation was anger. “You expect me to believe you haven’t fucked any club sluts since I’ve been gone? Are you kidding me?” Call me a pervert, but her anger always did something to me. Ash didn’t get angry easily. She wasn’t one to show that kind of emotion often. When I got it, it always got to me. Probably because I knew I was the only person she would blow up at like that. “No. I didn’t say that. I’ve fucked other women. You were gone and eventually I had to accept that. Now, you’re not gone. You’re right fucking

here and I won’t settle for anything else anymore.” “I—” she stuttered. “What are you saying?” I moved across the room, not containing my grin when she backed into the wall, trapping herself. I got right up against her, feeling her tits press into me, loving the slight tremble I knew wasn’t fear moving through her, glorying in the way she jerked from my hard-on only to press back against it. “I’m saying,” I answered, leaning down so my mouth was right at her ear, running my tongue along the shell, “you’re mine.”

“No,” I whispered, trying to hide the way my voice shook. He was right there, right on top of me, his big, hard body against mine. I could feel exactly how big and hard he was for me. He didn’t move away from my ear,

his breath blowing across the sensitive skin when he answered, “Yes, Ash. You’ve always been mine.” He was right. He was so absolutely right. I’d been his since we were kids. I’d been his when he gave me my first kiss. I’d never stopped being his in all the time I was away. No one would ever have me, not the way he did. But, I couldn’t admit that to him. “I’m not anyone’s.” One of his hands, large and so warm it felt like it was burning through the tshirt I had on, settled on my hip. Slow, too slow, it lifted, the shirt coming with it. “Bullshit, sweetheart.”

I tried to come up with a response, I did. I turned my brain over, searching for a way to make him stop, to get him to turn around and leave. It should have been easy—there were plenty of things I could have said to make him walk away —but there was nothing harder in the world than denying yourself the thing you wanted most. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to stop this. His lips moved along my jaw, just a whisper against my skin. Chills erupted down my body. It was intoxicating. He pulled back before he made it to my lips and looked down into my eyes, waiting. Not giving myself a chance to think it through, I made the same choice I made

once before. Standing at the edge of us with him waiting for an answer, I leaned in and kissed him. That was all he needed. He was on me, his lips coaxing mine apart, his tongue invading. His kiss was consuming, a tide pulling me under. I was drowning in it, and I went down happily. His hand continued to smooth its way up my side, the tips of his fingers coming to the edge of my bra. The skin of his hands was rougher than I remembered, his grip stronger. He managed to caress and make me feel as though he was holding me in place. I was so caught up by the sensations, I missed his other

hand moving to the front of my jeans until the button released. “Sketch,” I gasped against his lips. His head went back, his eyes harsh as he looked at me. “No, Ash. You don’t call me that when I’ve got you like this. I want to hear you say my name.” I was shocked, too shocked to say anything before he claimed my mouth again. Road names were sacred. I never knew most of the brother’s birth names. Their road name became who they were. For him to demand I use his real name was… It hit me, and it hit hard. He’d never been Sketch when we were together. The

road name had come later, after I left. Every time we were together, I had only called him Gabe. I couldn’t process that. Not then. Maybe later, some point far down the road when I allowed myself to think about what we were about to do. In the moment, it was too much. He unzipped my jeans, but his hand didn’t go inside. He drew his fingertips along the exposed skin between my hips and dipped only so far as to trace the top edge of my panties. I jerked in response, the sensation tickling and inciting all at once. I wanted more, I wanted it to stop —I wanted it lower, stronger. In the midst of that torture, his other

hand moved away from my breast aching for his touch and around to my back. I began to squirm in the little space he left me between him and the wall. My body was alight with a need I couldn’t vocalize. The clasp of my bra released and my head fell back. He wasted no time moving from my lips to my exposed neck, licking and sucking at the skin. “Let go,” he murmured to me. “What?” “My tee, babe. Let go.” Fighting to drag my focus from his lips and the teasing his fingers were doing just above where I needed him, I realized my hands were fisted in his

shirt so tightly, it was a miracle I hadn’t ripped it. I forced myself to release him. In the work of a moment, he had my shirt off and away. I slid my bra down my arms. His hard body moved back into me, his hands dropping to my hips. He gripped me and some part of my brain understood the signal from my old life. I wrapped both arms around his neck and let him lift me. His body moved between my legs as they circled him, the solid plane of his stomach hitting right where I was desperate for him. My moan turned into something far more feral when his mouth captured my nipple. His wet, hot tongue insistent in its teasing, I couldn’t take it.

“Please,” I begged. “Please what, baby?” I didn’t think about my words, didn’t weigh the repercussions of admitting it to him, I just blurted out the truth. “I need you.” He didn’t hesitate. With one hand supporting my ass, the other dove into my panties and hit its mark. I cried out at the sensation, nearly coming just from that touch. “Fuck. You’re soaked.” I responded the only way I could, by shifting my hips and rubbing against his fingers. He didn’t leave me wanting. He rubbed my clit hard, circling, pressing. I was going to lose it. I wasn’t going to be

able to hold back. Just as I felt it take hold, as the first tremor of an orgasm moved through my body, he pushed his hand in farther and thrust two fingers inside. I shattered. I knew we were moving, but my focus was on the glorious spasms moving through me, the undiluted pleasure seeming to never end as he moved his fingers inside me. His name came from my lips like a prayer, “Gabe.” When it left me, I was on my back on the bed. Gabe was kneeling between my legs. I watched, rapt, as he shed his cut then pulled his shirt over his head. I was

awe-struck at what he revealed. Gabe had been getting tattoos since his eighteenth birthday when I bought him his first. He’d had more planned and drawn out than I could count long before then. I could still remember every bit of ink on his body before I left. He had eleven tats at the time. I’d sat by his side while he’d gone under the needle for each one. Gabe loved tattoos. He was in the second year of his apprenticeship to become a tattoo artist back then. I hadn’t heard if he followed that path, but he clearly hadn’t stopped loving the art. He was nearly covered in ink. Everywhere. From neck to hands, all along one side of his chest, down his

abs, and disappearing into his jeans. I wanted to study them, to spend hours looking at every piece of art he’d put on his skin, but I knew I wouldn’t have the chance. Instead, I watched those tattooed hands settle onto my pale stomach. Dark on light. Unrecognizable skin on a body forever changed by carrying my daughter. It was like we were strangers, yet we knew each other well. Gabe bent over me, his lips coming to my stomach. His hands pushed my jeans down my hips. “You’re softer than before,” he said. I felt myself tense as he moved down to nip at my hipbone. I wasn’t in the same

shape I once was, I knew that. I hadn’t thought of how different that would look to him. “More curves.” I held my breath. His eyes came up to me, a wicked smile on his lips and in his gaze. “I fucking love it.” I inhaled a breath at his words and it turned to a gasp when he yanked my jeans and panties down my legs. He tossed them aside, ripping at the button on his own. His need amped up mine, and suddenly, it was like I hadn’t even had a release. I needed him more than I could remember needing anything in my life. “Hurry,” I panted. With a growl, he was back on me, his

lips on mine, satisfying me and making me hungrier. His body on top of mine— hot, hard, and so ready. I could feel him between my legs and my hips lifted. “I’m clean, babe. I don’t want anything between us,” he gritted out as I continued to move my hips against his length. “I’m not on anything.” “Fuck.” He pressed his hips down on mine, stilling me. “You need to fix that. Tomorrow. I won’t have shit between us for long. You go on the pill or get pregnant and give us another kid, I don’t give a fuck which. Actually, the second sounds pretty fucking good.” He couldn’t have just said that.

No way. I was in shock as he sat up and reached for his pants. He found a condom in his wallet and rolled it on, but all I could do was lie there. He seemed so sure this was going to happen again. And he said he…wanted me to get pregnant? Gabe came back to me and grinned at what he saw. “Freak out later. I want to fuck you now.” That was all I needed. The panic disappeared beneath the resurgence of heat. He was right. “Yes,” I whispered. His hands ran up my thighs, pulling my legs up to circle him. He sunk down

onto me, kissing me. His tongue met mine at the same moment he pushed inside me. “Gabe,” I gasped as he cursed. He rocked in and out with slow, gentle movements. His whole body was tense and I knew he was holding back. “Take me.” His eyes flew open. “Ash—” “Please, Gabe. More.” His control snapped. His face went into my neck and he fucked me—hard, fast, and glorious. My hands went to his shoulders, my nails digging in. His panting breaths and groans in my ear pushed me higher still. Every thrust of his hips brought me closer to an orgasm

that was going to destroy me. “Ashlynn,” he moaned, “you feel fucking incredible, babe.” “Gabe.” He slammed into me harder than I thought possible. “You’re mine,” he grunted. “You’re fucking mine.” With his words, he thrust in hard and sent me flying over the edge. I cried out. His name, “oh my god”, my absolute devotion—I have no idea what left my lips. All that existed for me was Gabe: his face the picture of gorgeous masculinity as his head went back and he roared his release, his cock still driving into me,

his body anchoring me as I flew off into heaven. I didn’t come down even as it left me. I lay beneath him, still floating. He pulled out and got rid of the condom, but none of it registered. I had forgotten what it was like. I forgot being with Gabe was like coming home. There was nothing on earth that could touch the feeling. Nothing I had ever experienced made me feel so complete. When he came back to me, he switched off the lamp beside the bed before climbing in. His arms wrapped around me. I thought about fighting him, telling him it was time to go, but I

couldn’t. If I had only one night, I was going to make the most of it. I was going to enjoy everything, and nothing beat the feeling of curling up against him. I had never forgotten that. I remembered it every night when I went to bed alone. Gabe pulled the comforter over us and settled in. My head was on his shoulder, his arm curving around my back. My arm wrapped around his middle and I threw my thigh over both of his. He brought his other arm down, tracing patterns up and down mine. It was ecstasy. And then he brought me crashing down. “You’re mine, Ash. I waited five

years for you to come back to me. Now, you and Emmy—you’re mine.” Crap.

I disappeared in the morning before Sketch woke. He’d always been a heavy sleeper, and I was glad to see that hadn’t changed. I knew we’d have to have the confrontation that was coming at some point. He thought we were getting back together. He thought we were going to be

a family. God, that sounded amazing. But it wasn’t going to happen. He’d fight me on that. He wasn’t just going to take no for an answer. He was going to get pissed. Eventually, we’d probably be back at him demanding a paternity test. I had no idea how I was going to deal with that. What I did know was I wasn’t prepared to deal with any of it first thing in the morning. Roadrunner was expecting me at nine to pick up Emmy. I was out the door of the clubhouse before seven. I drove into town, picked up a few necessities, then got a cup of coffee I was less than interested in, and sat around for almost

an hour pretending for whatever reason to drink it. In all honesty, I should have used that time to figure out what to say to Sketch. I should have been making plans. Instead, I picked the avoidance method. I watched customers come in and out. I tried to guess what they would order as they approached the counter. I allowed myself to become invested in a conversation between two women at a nearby table while they discussed how one wanted to talk to her husband about having a baby. I wondered how long their friendship would last when the other friend changed the subject to how she wanted to go clubbing and find a guy

for the night. They were in different places in life, and the hopeful future mom knew it. I decided I needed to call Jasmine. She was the only female friend I’d ever really had. She was also the only one who knew my whole story. Maybe she could help. Finally, when my hundredth check of the time told me I could go get Emmy, I left. I was distracted with trying to keep my mind occupied and missed that the bike parked in Roadrunner’s driveway wasn’t his. The minute Roadrunner opened the front door, I heard my girl was in seventh heaven. The distinct sound of

Immortals by Fall Out Boy told me Big Hero 6 was on. She wouldn’t listen to the song for no reason, and I imagined Roadrunner was not trying to convert her into a fan. She was probably watching Honey Lemon and imagining she had a purse that helped her fight crime. “Mornin’,” Roadrunner greeted, leading me inside. “I’ve got pancakes on the stove. Put on that movie for her while I got them ready.” “I’m surprised she waited until this morning.” He grinned at me. “She didn’t. We watched it last night, too.” That, I absolutely believed. Then, I heard another male voice.

“Fred? What kind of superhero name is Fred?” “I don’t know,” Emmy snickered. “At least he breathes fire,” Sketch returned. Emmy caught sight of me. She had on princess pajamas with a matching thermal shirt and pants, and her curly hair was everywhere. Such was the curse. Curls couldn’t be slept on. It was the knowledge of all women in the club. “Mommy!” My baby beamed up at me, but didn’t come running. This was a surprise. Apparently, she was perfectly happy to stay on the couch beside Sketch. I told myself that shouldn’t sting. I was being ridiculous.

“Hi, sunshine. How was your sleepover?” “So-o-o amazin’! I want to sleep over with Roadrunner every day!” Roadrunner’s voice carried in from the kitchen. “You can sleep here any time you want!” I was starting to wonder who would be more upset when we went back home, Emmy or the guys. “Guess what, Momma?” Emmy asked on an excited yell. “What?” “Sketch said he’s takin’ us to the zoo!” Wait. What? Sketch said what to my daughter

without talking to me? “He did?” I asked, my gaze leveled on the man in question. He gave me an unrepentant grin in return. “Emmy,” Roadrunner called, “your pancakes are ready.” “Pancakes!” With her typical littlegirl enthusiasm, she took off, leaving Sketch and me alone. “So, you’re taking Emmy to the zoo?” Sketch didn’t reply, just kept grinning. “Did you think of talking to me before deciding that and telling Emmy?” “Did you think of waking me before you snuck out of your own bed this morning?” he returned. “Or how about

taking someone with you seeing as you’re here so we can protect you?” Oops. I hadn’t really thought about the safety side of my running around this morning. Well, nothing happened. All’s well that ends well, right? “We’re not talking about that.” “Too bad. That conversation is far more interesting to me.” God, he was so infuriating. How had I forgotten that? “Well, I’m more interested in the fact that you just decided you’re taking my daughter somewhere without discussing it with me.” Sketch got to his feet and started moving toward me. I might have been

pissed, but I couldn’t deny it was a sight to behold. His tall, muscled body in battered jeans, a tight white t-shirt, and his cut. The heavily tattooed arms making him all the more intimidating. The lithe way his body moved that could make any woman think of sex, but especially me, seeing as I’d been reacquainted with his prowess the night before. It was almost enough to drive me to distraction. Almost. “First, I’ll say it now and I expect you’ll take it to heart. You need to have someone with you when you’re out. You definitely can’t just disappear like that. That’s not anything about the issues you

and I have to sort through. That’s about your safety. You came here for the club’s protection, so I think you get it’s important. I’m also thinkin’ you had shit on your mind this morning and didn’t think of it, so I’m not going to keep pushing. Just remember next time, yeah?” Fair enough, I thought, but didn’t say. He was right on. I hadn’t been thinking straight and I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. “Second,” he went on, “I’m not taking your daughter somewhere without discussin’ it. I’m taking you and our girl to the zoo, and we’re discussin’ it right now,” he replied.

Our girl? His words from the night before came back to me. “You’re mine, Ash. I waited five years for you to come back to me. Now, you and Emmy—you’re mine.” “Our girl?” Sketch came right up to me, his hand settling on my neck. “Our girl.” Crap. Him claiming Emmy that way shouldn’t have gotten to me. Nothing good was going to come of that. I couldn’t say it didn’t impact me, though. I’d always wanted that for her. Emmy deserved to be loved that way by a father. I just couldn’t provide that. And,

despite how much I wanted him to, Sketch couldn’t either. “You don’t know that she’s yours,” I whispered. His eyes were determined. “Yes, I do.” “You can’t.” He leaned in closer to me. “I can. I know it down to my fuckin’ soul. That girl is mine.” I had no clue what to say, but Sketch didn’t wait for me. He laid a quick kiss on my unmoving lips and went to the kitchen. Just after he disappeared, I heard his voice. “Eat up, princess. You need your energy for the zoo.”

“Zoo!” Emmy cheered. Right. Apparently, we were going to the zoo.

The Oregon Zoo was back in Portland, a two-hour drive. We had lived less than twenty minutes from it all of Emmy’s life, but I’d only been able to take her once. Now, with that distance so much greater, she was getting her second chance. Emmy slept for about an hour of the drive, which was beyond awkward for Sketch and me. The other hour was spent telling Sketch how excited she was, how

she couldn’t wait to get there, how she wanted to see everything, how she’d only gotten to go the one time before. Her joy drove the pain that I hadn’t been able to provide that more often deeper. I knew Sketch noticed, and the concerned way he looked over at me told me he wasn’t judging me for it. I filed that away into the ever-expanding folder of things I wasn’t going to think about. Sketch bought our tickets, something he had laid down the law about before we’d even left. Seeing as I had no job and the funds in my account were going to dry up fast, I wasn’t exactly going to argue with him about it.

Once we were in, I unfolded the map we were given, and asked, “Where should we start?” Sketch, who had been carrying Emmy on his shoulders since we got out of the car, patted her thighs. “Princess, what’s your favorite animal?” “Otters!” “Which way to the otters?” he asked me. “They have two types. We’ll go left up here first,” I instructed. “Which otters come first, Momma?” “River otters, sweetheart.” Emmy proceeded to tell Sketch everything she knew about the difference between sea and river otters. This was

really just that river otters were smaller and “not as fluffy”. Still, she explained this distinction like it was the height of scientific knowledge. We walked through the crowds, looking like many of the families wandering about in some ways. Mom, dad, child, just a normal family outing to the zoo—except the picture wasn’t necessarily ordinary. Emmy in her pink windbreaker—there was still a bit of a chill in the spring air—was the quintessential three-almost-four-yearold in her exuberance. Sketch was anything but the typical dad. The Disciples’ logo on his back, the tattoos on every visible bit of skin aside from

his face, and the way they contrasted with the innocent girl on his shoulders, were garnering him a lot of looks. Some were merely curious, some appreciative, and others openly wary or judgmental. I hated that. Growing up with the club, I’d experienced it plenty. People used to judge my dad for the way he looked. Dad was not completely covered in ink the way Sketch was, but he’d had more than a few. His arms were clearly inked, even from a distance, and he always wore his cut. People were writing a narrative in their head of a dangerous man, a man unfit to raise a little girl. They were probably wondering what I was doing

with him, if he treated me well. They were likely even casting their judgments my way for making a family with such a man. They had no idea Sketch was one of the most caring people I’d ever known. They didn’t know he was an artist. They had no idea he was sweet enough to plan the trip to the zoo for Emmy. They had no idea we weren’t a real family, and that was in no way Sketch’s fault. We came upon a little children’s play area between two exhibits and Emmy begged to be set loose. She took off while Sketch and I stood a bit away with the stroller we’d rented for the day.

“Don’t let them get to you,” he said. He read the question on my face. “The assholes who keep looking at us. I know it’s bothering you. Just ignore them.” He seemed very nonchalant about the whole thing. “It doesn’t bother you?” He turned to me and I saw the irritation he was containing. “Of course it does. I hate that they’re judging you, judging Emmy, who’s just a child, because of the way I look. But do I care if they judge me? Not a fucking bit. I got these tattoos knowing I would face this shit. I don’t give a fuck what they think of me.” Of course he didn’t. He’d never been bothered by what people thought of him

unless the person mattered. “I envy that.” His arm went around my shoulders and settled me into his side. He lightly kissed my head. “I know.” He did. I’d envied that about him most of our lives. He learned just how much after he discovered Tori and her group of friends had been bullying me for years. “You just have to ignore it,” he went on. “We’re here to have a good day with Emmy. Don’t let narrow-minded assholes ruin it.” I stood there for a few moments, until it occurred to me that he was still holding me. It felt so right, so natural to be there. For years, I was rarely near

him and not touching him, but I wasn’t doing him or myself any favors by falling back into old habits. Before I could even step away, his grip tightened. “Don’t.” I looked up to see his stony face focused on Emmy. “Don’t what?” He looked down at me, his expression not fading. “No pulling away.” “How—” “Felt you tense.” Oh, right. Sketch sighed, then shifted to wrap his other arm around me until I was held

tightly with my back against his front. “Give me today. You wanna fight me, fine. I’ll fight for you both if I have to, but just give me today. One day with you and Emmy, okay?” How could I say no? “Okay.”

I hated crowds. I hated being around a lot of people I didn’t know. I hated even more when those people were sheltered assholes who passed judgment on dirty bikers with tattoos. I hated going places where they charged ridiculous prices for mediocre food because they

had you by the balls. I should have hated nothing more than being at the damn zoo on a Saturday. But I didn’t. And that was because Emmy loved it. Emmy loved everything she saw, and she made a point to show it. She thought everything was adorable or funny. She wanted to get as close as she could, right up to the barriers at every exhibit so she could get a good look. She told us more than once that she wanted to be a “zoo people” when she “growed up”. Fuck, she was cute. Then, there was her mom. Ash always liked animals. I think she liked them more than most people because

animals didn’t expect her to talk or be social. With Ash, though, I was enjoying her reactions to me. She kept her word. All day, no matter how much I pushed it, she never once pulled away. She let me hold her, touch her, kiss her. She even let me get a little tongue when our lunch turned into a short nap for Emmy. Never fucking thought I’d get a hardon in a fuckin’ zoo, but there you go. Ash thought this was all just temporary, she’d have one last day to get me out of her system, and I let her think that. When the day was done, she could go right ahead and fight me. I just wasn’t going to fucking lose, not when the

stakes were so high. It was nice to get a day of my sweet Ash, though. Really fucking nice. Nice enough that I had no idea how I found myself in the backyard with Ash and a couple of my brothers with a beer in my hand after we finally got Emmy bathed and in bed. Ace was discussing the overhaul he wanted to do to his bike’s exhaust. Stone was around, which was surprising. He might have a room here, but Pres usually stayed at the clubhouse. I think he thought it was his job to be there. Jager was around, too. He moved into the farmhouse about a month ago when his

lease was up, never said why. Ash was at my side. She was more distant with the guys around and I let her have that play. She was deluding herself if she thought she was fooling any of them. It wasn’t that I wanted to get away from my brothers, but when it occurred to me that I was standing around in the yard when I still had my docile, loving Ash for the rest of the night, I was done. I hooked her around the waist and ducked my head into her neck. I breathed in that hint of sweet vanilla on her skin before I spoke. “Time to go, Firefly.” “Why?” she asked, but I felt the faint arch of her back and the way her ass pressed just a bit tighter against my

hardening cock. “I think you know.” She did. She definitely did. I could nearly smell her pussy getting wet. Still, I ran my tongue up her neck, right along her quickening pulse, to enlighten her. She didn’t agree, didn’t move. Her weight just sunk more into my hold. “Let’s go, baby. I’m hungry.” That got a shiver from her, and I fucking loved it. She was ready for me, and I was ready to fucking feast. My girl gave me the sweetest gift in return. A breathless, whispered, “Okay.” It was all I needed. There was no reason to say anything to the guys. Those fuckers would know

exactly what was up. I just hauled her ass away. I needed to get her somewhere private before everyone got a view I didn’t like sharing. As I led her back toward the house, I decided semi private would have to do and took us around the left side. The lighting and garage were around front to the right. No one would come back that way. Not to mention, if any of them saw me, they would know better than to. I backed her into the siding. Her curves accepted me just right. I’d thought she was perfect when we were younger, but with her new curves…she was fucking incredible. She gave me her mouth—no, fuck

that, she took my mouth with hers. Her arms came up to my shoulders and she pulled me in. I was more than willing to give it to her, but having her take it was so much better. Her and that talented tongue had me ready to blow in under a minute. When she knew she had me snared like she wanted, her hands started to explore. Her nails scraped over my skin even through my shirt and I pressed into her harder. Fuck, I needed a release. I couldn’t hold back when it came to her. I nearly came right there when her hands went down to my jeans and started undoing them. She wasn’t wasting any time.

“Christ, babe,” I groaned when she lowered to her knees. I’d forgotten. I had no goddamn clue how, but I’d forgotten about Ash’s dirty little secret. She was so shy and quiet, no one would guess it, but I knew. The risk of getting caught got Ash hot like nothing else. It was a discovery I’d made years ago, something she hadn’t even known about herself. We were teenagers, and after that first taste of her, I couldn’t hold back. Lucky for me, she couldn’t either. It wasn’t always easy to get her alone. The brothers, Indian included, might have been glad Ash was with me rather than some little asshole they didn’t

know, but that didn’t mean they turned a blind eye to us. We got leeway, but not so much that I could have Ash alone nearly enough. So, sometimes we had to get inventive. Dark corners became our specialty. We found ourselves little hiding places in all the club spots. It was fucking risky as hell. Indian only liked me so much. Finding me with his daughter like that in a closet or some shit would not have played well. It was worth the risk, though. At first, just because we couldn’t help ourselves, then because I realized the rush of adrenaline from the fear of getting busted turned Ash into a fucking

wildcat. At that moment, with the minimal, but still present, risk of one of the brothers coming around and finding us, she was feeling it. Hell, she might not have realized just how unlikely getting caught was, but I wasn’t going to enlighten her if it was driving her higher. She had my cock out in her hand. Her eyes were trained up at me and I could see the heat in them, even in the dark. Her soft but firm touch, the sight of my dick so close to her mouth…it took more control than I thought I had to keep from blowing. I could almost see the cum jetting out of my cock and landing all over her. It would land on her face, her

neck, that expanse of skin right above her tits. I wanted to mark her like that. But I wanted those lips wrapped around me more. “Suck me.” Her tongue, that sweet, vicious, delectable tongue, came out and circled the head. Everything from my hands, back, and neck, down to my legs and balls tightened. I couldn’t take it. “Don’t fucking tease,” I groaned. Her lips immediately went around and slid right down my shaft. The pleasure was blinding—the warmth, her wet tongue massaging the underside of my cock, her lips gripping me tightly. “Shit. Fuck. You are so sweet.”

She moaned in response and I could feel it. Ash liked taking my cock in her mouth and I fucking loved knowing that almost as much as I did getting it. Her lips pulsed the pressure in the same spot halfway down my shaft as her tongue rubbed up and down. My control was going to snap. I needed her to move. She was goading me. “Playing games is going to get you in trouble,” I warned. Ash’s response was to take one of my hands and bring it to the back of her head. I tightened my fingers in her hair and touched her cheek with the other, tracing her lips on my cock. I had to be sure before I took what she was offering.

“You’re sure you want it?” She bobbed her head, and fuck if that didn’t snap my control. I grabbed her head in both hands, holding her still. Trying to rein myself in, I thrust between her lips slowly at first. Each inward slide took me a little deeper into her hot mouth. I felt her throat tighten, but she relaxed it before she gagged. She was a fucking pro. I’d never had another woman who could swallow back my cock the way my good little Ash could. Maybe it was because she’d learned to do it on me. Everything she knew came from what I liked. Fuck, that train of thought was not helping me keep it together.

When she took the whole thing and her lips wrapped around the base, I lost any semblance of sanity. My thrusts grew faster. I fucked her face hard, quick, deep. She took it all, moaning when I gave her the room to. Her hands landed on my hips and one traveled down, grasping my balls and rolling them in her hand. I was going to blow. I could feel it in my whole body. “Gonna come, babe,” I warned. She didn’t shy away—no, my girl started to take over. She reared forward and drew back, each motion drawing her lips from base to just below the head. Her tongue pressed up on me and she sucked so hard, my knees buckled.

“Fuck!” It exploded out of me, and Ash took every fucking drop. She kept right on moving up and down the top half of my cock as cum shot onto her tongue. Wave after wave took me, but she didn’t stop. My fucking champ. I moved the second it left me. My cock popped free of her greedy lips and I tucked it away. I watched her swallow. A spasm moved through me and I knew I’d be hard as a rock again in no time. But I had a feast to attend to before I fucked her. With a hand at her jaw and another beneath one arm, I guided her to her feet. I kissed her while I got her pants undone.

I could just barely taste myself, but I couldn’t give a fuck. I needed her mouth. The zipper of her jeans gave way and I immediately spun her around. “Bend over,” I commanded. “Hands on the wall.” She listened right away and I yanked her jeans down to her knees. I fell to mine and buried my face in her pussy. I didn’t go in gently. I didn’t tease. I gave a long lick from her clit to her ass, then sucked that bud between my lips. Ash cried out, but I didn’t pause to hush her. If those fuckers were still in the yard, they could hear her sounds all they wanted. I was the only one who got to have a taste. I was the only one who

would be causing her to make those sounds ever again. Her hips bucked back, her drenched pussy rubbing against me. I gave her exactly what she wanted. I released her clit, brought my hand up to keep rubbing it, and thrust my tongue inside of her. I tongue-fucked her relentlessly. I meant to take her there, to feel her pulse against my tongue, but it didn’t happen. Ash started pushing back, trying to get me deeper, harder. I gave her what I could, but it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t leave her wanting. It wasn’t in me. I was on my feet then with my cock out and wrestling out a fucking condom, ready to not bother with the damn thing. I had no

problem with the idea of knocking her up. “Hold on, baby,” I instructed as I entered her. Her plea was swallowed by a gasp. I fucked her hard. My hands held her hips in a bruising grip. My balls smacked against her. I gave her everything I had and Ash met me stroke for stroke. She reared back against me, taking me as deep as I could go. In no time at all, she cried out as her pussy clamped down on my cock and I kept plowing into her through her orgasm. Only when the fucking fantastic pulses started to slow around my cock did I let go.

“Firefly,” I muttered into her back. “Gabe.” Christ, she undid me. Every fucking time. I pulled out slowly. It hurt to leave her. She was unsteady on her feet, and hell if that didn’t make me feel like a king. Once we were both fully dressed again, I grabbed her and pulled her to me. “Inside, baby,” I said before kissing her. “I’m not done with you yet.” And I wasn’t. I had all night, and I wasn’t wasting a second.

For the second day in a row, I woke before Sketch. I considered staying put for a minute and thought maybe I should soak it in. Then, I reminded myself soaking it in would only make it harder to resist when he tried to get me back there. I didn’t need to make the memory

of how warm and secure it felt being there any more vivid. I didn’t need any help remembering how great it felt to wake up happy. Crap. I was doing a really good job, wasn’t I? On that thought, it was seriously time to get out of bed. I’d caused enough trouble for myself already. Besides, Emmy could be up any time and she would not hesitate to barge right in. The door was locked, so she wouldn’t get far. Still, I didn’t need her to find out Sketch was in my bed. That was not a conversation I wanted to have. After a quick check to make sure the

little one in question was still asleep— for a few more minutes, anyway—I hurried to the bathroom for a shower. In my superhuman rush through getting clean, my mind went back to the days when a shower meant a chance to relax under the hot water for a minute—those days of peace that existed only before I became “Mom”. Luckily, I decided it wasn’t the morning to reclaim that particular slice of pre-mommy life. When I came out of the bathroom and checked in on Emmy again, she was sitting up in bed. She was still rubbing her eyes, not quite ready to go charging into the world, but another minute or two might have been too late.

“Good morning, sunshine.” “Morning, Momma,” she said in a sweet little voice. That was the last bit of sweet I was getting for the day. For one thing, Emmy had decided long ago that being three going on sixteen meant a good day like we had at the zoo must be followed by a moody one, lest I forget there was plenty of sass to go with all that cute. This started at breakfast. It was my own fault, really. After she woke up, Emmy requested that she pick out her own outfit. This was becoming more and more frequent with her. On the one hand, I was happy to encourage her to embrace

bits of independence. On the other, it was a nightmare and a half trying to get her to change if what she picked wasn’t weather appropriate or made it look like I neglected her. I should have, at that juncture, distracted her from the idea by suggesting one of her favorite outfits, thus ensuring peace for myself because she would have been all for it. But I didn’t do that. No, I was barely a few sips into a much-needed cup of coffee when she came strolling into the kitchen in her purple Rapunzel costume dress, fuzzy, pink, bootie slippers, fairy wings, and a full set of costume jewelry, including a tiara. I wasn’t entirely sure what was in

store for our day, but Stone had asked me the night before to go over to the clubhouse so we could have a chat. I also needed to do some grocery shopping, since the contents of a fridge filled for bikers wasn’t exactly the same as the diet for a fussy three-year-old. None of that said costume. It certainly didn’t say slippers were appropriate footwear. So, I made my second mistake. “Honey, I’m not sure that outfit is best. We have places to go. Today’s not the day for costumes.” That was when sweet left the building. I got the grumpy three-year-old death

glare to end all death glares. It was made all the more ridiculous by the amount of purple, pink, and glitter she had on. Then, I got the sass. “It’s not a costume, Mom,” she’d snapped. “I’m a fairy princess.” “Be careful with that sass.” Undeterred by the show of attitude, I’d tried again. “Are you sure today is the best day to be a fairy princess?” “I’m always a fairy princess,” she’d said, punctuated with a fist to her cocked hip. God save me when she actually became a teenager. “Sass, Emmaline,” I’d warned more firmly.

The glare and hip action didn’t go away, but her mouth stayed shut tight. “Do you want breakfast?” She still didn’t say anything, just marched her little costume-clad butt to the breakfast table in the corner of the kitchen and sat, arms crossed over her chest. Thus began the battle of the breakfast foods. For every suggestion I offered, of which there were quite a few despite my need to go shopping, I got more and more attitude from her side of the room. I was thinking I’d not had nearly enough coffee yet when I ran out of options. “Well, that’s all there is. You have to pick something,” I’d told her.

If she could have managed to ratchet up the intensity on that glare, I was sure she would have. “Cereal,” she’d clipped with an eye roll. “Do not roll your eyes at me,” I’d reprimanded, not moving until I was sure she saw how serious I was. Only then did I get a bowl and pour her some cereal. The second part of the universe’s message that sweet was definitely not in the plan for me came about half an hour later. My snippy little one was finished eating and had moved into the living room where I gladly set her up with the Disney Channel. She’d griped that she

didn’t like the show that was on, but I knew she was just trying to find ways to complain. I returned to the kitchen where I could finish my coffee in relative peace but wouldn’t miss if she decided to wander off or cause any fuss. The peace lasted all of five minutes before I was met with a whole new type of attitude. Sketch came into the kitchen looking as grumpy as Emmy and as irritated as I was starting to feel. With no preamble whatsoever, he stomped my way. “You snuck out again.” Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I’d informed him, “I have a daughter. She wasn’t going to sleep much longer and

I couldn’t exactly have her knocking on the door with both of us naked in bed.” “Believe me, Ash, I am perfectly fucking aware that you have a daughter,” he’d replied darkly. “And you could have woken me when you got up.” How was I turning into the bad guy in everyone’s scenarios? “I thought you’d want to sleep.” “You thought you could sneak out and start avoiding me right away.” Well, yes. I’d thought that, too. Though, I thought it was a good idea not to say it. “Do you want coffee? The pot is still nearly full.”

His hands went to my hips and jerked me against him. “I want you not to change the subject.” “What is there to say?” I’d asked, shaking off his hold. “You didn’t like it, I don’t think I did anything wrong, and none of it really matters. It won’t happen again.” “You’ll wake me next time?” “There won’t be a next time.” Sketch didn’t grin or brush my comment off. He hooked me around the back of the neck and brought our faces close. “I promise you, babe, there will be. You can fight all you want, I told you yesterday you could, but I’ll be fighting back. And I won’t lose.”

I tried to pry myself away from him. I didn’t want to do this or be so close to him. He was shirtless, having only pulled on his jeans before he left my room. His tattooed body was all on display and it made me want to touch. Worst of all, he smelled amazing, like spice, leather, musk, and the faint smell of sex. It made me think about everything we’d done the night before, of him taking me on the side of the house and the way he made me come three more times once we got to my room. No, I wasn’t capable of self-control when he was that close. “Move away.” I’d tried to make it sound like a command, but in my mind, I

was begging. “Kiss me,” he’d returned. “No.” He leaned in even closer. “It wasn’t a request.” Then, he kissed me. I didn’t kiss him back. Really, I didn’t. At least, not at first. I thought I could hold out, just keep my lips completely still. I figured he would give up as soon as he realized I wasn’t going to do as he said, which was stupid. Sketch wasn’t the giving up type. He brushed his lips across mine a few times until they were tingling and my jaw was aching from the force with which I was clenching it. He changed

tactics then, his tongue coming out to trace my lips until I felt a groan threatening to escape. I relaxed my jaw while focusing on staying silent and it was all the give he needed. His tongue pressed in, slipping between my lips and meeting mine. It was all over then. I kissed him back, and I didn’t do it halfway. A creek from the top of the stairs broke us apart. Someone was awake and coming down. I needed to put space between us before anyone saw. The satisfied smirk Sketch wore told me he’d already gotten what he was after—as if I didn’t know that. “Keep fighting, Ash,” he’d said as

he stepped back and went toward the coffee maker. “It’s almost more fun when you do.” Crap.

The good news was that half of my problem resolved itself—in a manner of speaking. Ace had come down and joined us in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee for himself and taking a seat. It was enough to make Sketch back off until he announced he had to go to work. I’d wanted to ask what he did, but I was worried what interest in his job would say. I’d grappled with it silently for a

few minutes while he drank his coffee next to me. Then, Sketch had left, resolving the issue for me. Of course, after that, I started fighting with whether or not I should try to talk to Ace, and what I would even say, and generally doing that awkward thing I always did when I was in social situations because I never knew how to handle them. Ace resolved that issue by asking about Emmy. Apparently, he had a half-sister twelve years his junior. She was eight, but he still remembered her at Emmy’s age. It was the kind of conversation I could relax in, answering direct questions and being able to turn them back around. I honestly wondered

if someone mentioned I was awkward and he was trying to make me comfortable. I told my brain to shut up and let it go. Later in the day, I did make it to the store. Ace insisted on coming with, saying he should restock the kitchen for the guys, too. Given Emmy’s fantastic mood, it was not a fun experience. She sat in the cart, no longer openly glaring at me, but not being my upbeat girl either. I didn’t know what she had to be in a mood about since she was still wearing her crazy outfit. I’d only made her change shoes because the slippers weren’t

meant to be worn outside. Regardless, she was nursing her snit and the only input she gave was to sneer at items she didn’t like—primarily anything remotely healthy I grabbed. It was mid afternoon by the time I went over to the clubhouse, snooty child in tow and Ace riding behind us. Hopefully, whatever Stone wanted to say would be quick and I could get her out of there. There was no reason to make anyone else deal with crabby Emmy longer than necessary. As we went inside, I was wondering if maybe she hadn’t slept well and was still tired from the long day at the zoo. Maybe when we got back to the

farmhouse, she’d take a nap. Lord knew I could use one. Inside, Daz was leaning against the bar and a girl in tiny shorts and a tank top despite the not-yet-summer temperatures was sitting on a stool by him. She was all about him; he was mildly interested in whatever she was saying. I figured he was tuning in enough to know when it was time to move on to sex, but uninterested beyond that. His attention was fractured enough to notice when we walked in. “My girl is here!” Daz greeted at full volume. The chick on the stool turned around to look our way, going into full bitch-mode at the sight of me. Clearly,

she thought Daz was talking about me, not my daughter. Though, she was probably assuming Emmy was his, too. “Untle Daz!” Emmy greeted back and ran his way, a full smile on her face. Well, that was a surprise. It seemed I was her issue all day, not her mood. Wonderful. Daz picked her up. “How’s my Emmy?” “Good,” she said on a smile. I sighed. Daz looked my way. “What brings you two lovely ladies here?” His friend at the bar went from pissy to ready to blow. I thought it was kind of funny. If she thought she had any sort of

claim on Daz, even just for the day, she was sorely mistaken, and I knew Daz wasn’t doing anything to give her that idea. He was very upfront when he wanted to fuck. If she had any grand delusions, they were her own doing. “Stone wants to talk to me,” I explained. He looked at Emmy. “And who’s watching you?” Emmy shrugged. “I was just going to bring her in with me.” Daz made a ridiculous face of dismay. “And subject this beautiful princess to that boredom? I’ll not have it!”

Who knew Daz was going to be the type to ham it up for a little girl? “Daz, you’ve got company,” I reminded him with a nod toward Ms. Attitude. “Shit,” he muttered. I didn’t reprimand him. Emmy now understood things Uncle Daz said weren’t to be repeated. He turned to the woman. “Change of plans, I’m busy. You can see yourself out.” Harsh, but effective. If she hadn’t played around with a Disciple before, she at least understood the score. When you were dismissed, you needed to get gone. Before she made it to the door, Daz’s

attention was back on Emmy. “You, little miss, promise me right now you won’t let a man talk to you like that. You’re too precious for that shit.” Holy crap. I couldn’t even look at the chick he’d kicked out to see her reaction, though I heard her gasp. I was busy focusing on consummate player Daz telling my daughter not to become the exact sort of woman he enjoyed most. “I pwomise,” she agreed. “Holding you to that.”

When I was sure Daz was good watching Emmy, I made my way to Stone’s office. The door was closed, but that wasn’t unusual. Stone kept it that way even if he was in there alone because things could go from quiet to rowdy at the drop of a hat in the

clubhouse. His office wasn’t far removed from the action, so the door was a must. I knocked and waited. “Come in,” Stone called in that gruff, commanding voice of his. He sounded like a leader, but then, he was, and long had been. Even before he was president of the Disciples, he was a Sergeant— though I wasn’t sure of his exact title— in the Marine Corps. He was used to giving orders to intimidating men. I opened the door to find Stone behind his desk, Ham sitting across from him. Both men lifted their chins in greeting and looked back at each other. “Take care of it,” Stone instructed. Ham nodded, then left without a

word. Stone held out his hand, motioning it toward the seat Ham had just left. I took it, my nerves starting to rise. Something about this felt like being called into the principal’s office, or being brought into a police station for questioning. Stone was an intimidating man, but the black flag hanging on the wall behind him with the Disciples’ insignia—a bike in front of crossed scythes that were nearly true to size—along with the huge desk only made sitting before him more daunting. “What’s up?” I prompted. “Things have been busy, haven’t had a chance to sit down with you. Sorry about that, girlie. Now, I got the chance,

so it’s time you knew what’s going on.” It was probably time for that. I still had no idea exactly what sort of threat the club was under. Actually, since I’d been around, it hadn’t really seemed like there was a threat. Once or twice as a kid, the club had gone into full lockdown. Everyone—the brothers, their women, family, whatever—had to go to the clubhouse. The brothers would leave occasionally to deal with whatever the problem was, but the rest of us were kept inside, no exceptions. There certainly was no lockdown going on, so there didn’t seem to be an imminent threat to the entire club. However, Roadrunner had made it clear I had not

been safe at home. I had to admit, I was pretty okay with having been in the dark over the last week. Not knowing the danger made staying in denial so much easier. “Okay,” I agreed, although reluctantly. Stone watched me, seeming to assess whether I was ready to hear what he was going to say. I wasn’t, but I put on a selfassured face. I figured he saw through me, but the determination was enough to have him go on. He opened a drawer, moved through the contents for a moment, and then placed a small stack of photographs on the desk. On top of the stack, in stark black and

white, was a picture of me. I snatched the pile up. It was definitely me in the picture. I was in my uniform from the diner and my coat. The direction I was facing as I passed the florist told me I was on my way in to work. The coat I had on said it had to be a few weeks back when it was colder. I flipped that one to the back and looked at the next. It was the same day, but I was closer to the diner. I kept going, following the pictures showing me closer and closer, then through the windows of the diner as I worked. When I came to the last one, I lost my breath. Whoever had taken it had captured a moment when I’d been

looking through the window for some reason. My face was straight on in the image. That wasn’t what shocked me, though. What had me absolutely terrified was the message scrawled across the lower half of the picture. We’ll make her join her father. My hands shook as I dropped the pictures onto Stone’s desk. I wanted to get up, leave. I wanted to run away and hide. I wanted to pretend I’d never seen that. Distantly, I could feel that I was starting to hyperventilate. I thought the club as a whole was under threat. I thought someone had threatened to hurt

people close to the Disciples in a generic way. That sort of threat had been enough to bring me back, if only to ensure Emmy was safe. I never would have thought someone was actually threatening me. “I…don’t…” I panted. “Fuck,” Stone muttered, but I didn’t look at him. My eyes were still on that picture. A body moved into my line of sight, hands grabbed onto mine, then Stone knelt down in front of me. “Ash, I fuckin’ swear to you, we’re gonna keep you and Emmaline safe.” He looked too sure, so confident. “Whoever it is, they were the ones

who killed my dad?” A flash of pain and regret came over him before he answered. I knew he could have hidden it. Stone had his name for a reason. He chose to let me see. “Yes.” “But they got him…oh god.” I was panicking. No question, I was freaking out. “You couldn’t stop them before. They killed him. What if they get me? What will happen to Emmy? There’s no one to take care of her. What if—” Stone’s hand released mine and he pulled me into his arms. I felt tears rolling down my cheeks. I heard him shushing me over my gasping breaths. Yet, everything was weird. I knew all of

it was happening, but I felt removed from it. My body, my panic, they were far away from me. I was somewhere else, remembering my dad’s smile, remembering how much I loved him, remembering how much it destroyed me to lose him. I couldn’t let Emmy experience that. She was so young, and she’d be all alone. “Breathe for me, Ash,” Stone instructed. I didn’t want to breathe. I wanted to run. I wanted to go far away, so much farther than Portland. I’d been too close all that time, I really appreciated that now. I wanted to get Emmy and take her somewhere these people would never

find us. “Come on,” he kept trying. “In and out.” How far could we get? I didn’t even have my own car. Even if I got back to Portland and got to my car, how far could it go? I didn’t have a lot of money, nowhere near enough to start up somewhere new. Crap. Crap. Crap. “Firefly.” That name made it through. Stone said it, yet it almost sounded like Dad. His voice had been so clear in my head. I blinked through the tears and looked at Stone, making sure it was really him. “Focus on me,” he insisted.

I did. My mind centered on him and I felt grounded again. I was really there. Stone was, too. He was still kneeling, his hands on my shoulders. “In and out.” Right. My lungs were hurting. In and out. In and out. Each breath came a little easier than the one before. “Good. That’s good, Ash.” I kept going. In and out, pulling in more air each time, holding each breath in a little longer. It took a while, but eventually, I was calm again. I could breathe steadily and the tears had stopped. “Okay,” I said. I wasn’t completely

sure what I meant. It was some kind of mix of saying, “I’m okay,” “It’ll be okay,” and “Okay, keep going.” Stone understood. “I know you’re worried, but things are much different this time. Indian was involved in a way you will not be.” “What does that mean?” There was a pause I was very used to when it came to asking about Disciple business. It was a weighty pause where the brothers thought about how much they could say without giving away too much of what they considered to be for brothers only. “The threat comes from a man we’ve had problems with for a long time. He’s

a distributer, deals in anything he thinks he can sell—drugs, women, whatever. He found drugs most lucrative. He runs an operation supplying all through the state, but primarily in Portland. “There’s been a lot of tension between his men and the club, partly because we keep that shit out of Hoffman. Barton’s got loose ties in high places, thinks it makes him untouchable. Your dad was particularly hot on taking Barton down.” Stone’s tone changed as he went on, becoming more gentle. “You know I respected the fuck out of Indian. He was family. I’m not saying anything against him when I tell you we tried to talk him

back from that fight. Barton’s backing thought his operation could be the foothold to bring their reach up this way from California. They were willing to supply him, help him get shit done. We didn’t have the kind of power we needed to fight that on our own. “Indian didn’t want to wait it out. He kept pushing Barton. We backed him on that play. He was our brother and we weren’t about to let him take on that fight alone. But that didn’t change facts. He led the charge and Barton knew it. That’s why Barton targeted him.” I’d wanted that information. Years ago, I had wanted so badly to know why it was my dad who had been killed and

I’d been so angry about not getting an answer. Finally, I had my answer, and I felt…nothing. Knowing didn’t help; it just gave me more questions. I didn’t understand why Dad would put himself on the line. Why would he risk being taken from me? For the club, I answered myself. He risked it because of the Disciples. An old ache felt fresh as that understanding settled. The club always came first, even if it meant dying for them. I wanted to be done with this discussion. I wanted to get out of there. So, I prompted, “And what about now?” He’d expected more of a reaction

from what he’d said, but I didn’t have it in me to give that to him. I needed time, and I needed to be alone. “Now,” he thankfully went on, “the backing Barton had has dried up. He knows it. He also knows we know, or expects we will soon. And, most importantly, he knows we’re going to get revenge for Indian. That’s got him scared. The threat against you is meant to throw us off. Maybe he thinks we’ll back off if we’re reminded of what happened last time. Maybe he wants us to think he’s still got power behind him. I don’t know. I don’t give a fuck. Either way, it’s bullshit.” “If the threat is bullshit, why am I

here?” I asked. “The threat isn’t bullshit. He’ll follow through, given the opportunity. With you in Portland, he would have had that opportunity at some point. We couldn’t protect you there. What’s bullshit is him stating he can get a hand on you if you’re protected, which he knew we were going to do as soon as he sent the photos. If it were about hurting you, he would have just done it. No pictures, no warnings. That’s not what this is. He wants to tell us he’s still got enough power to get through our protection. That is bullshit.” That didn’t sound good. That sounded like a gamble with my life, and

my daughter’s in the balance. “How do you know he doesn’t have that kind of power?” Again with that pause where he considered what he could tell me. “Because we have mutual alliances with the powers that used to back him. We know they’ve pulled out. On top of that, they took half of the workforce Barton recruited.” Well, alrighty then. “So, I’m not in danger?” “I won’t say that. Barton’s a man backed into a corner. What he’s built is falling, and he knows it. That can make people desperate. He could decide he wants to hurt us while he goes down.

Without protection, without one of the brothers with you, you are in danger. We’re not going to let that happen, though. We’ll keep you safe.” He was firm in that declaration, and I felt like I could believe him. “Okay.” “Last thing we gotta talk about is how we’re going to keep you safe.” Something about the way he said that told me I wasn’t going to like what he said next. “It’s going to take more than bringing you here. There wasn’t a chance to set things up sooner, but now, it’s all in place. You aren’t at the farmhouse or here, you’ve got a brother on you.”

Crap. “Um…” “Nope. Not gonna hear it, Ash. That’s non-negotiable. Only way to be sure you and Emmy are covered. The guys will be on a rotation. End of.” Well, damn. That was firm. “Need to know one thing, though.” I had a sneaking suspicion of what he needed to know. “Yeah?” “Is it going to be a problem if Sketch is part of that rotation?” Yes. Definitely, yes. I needed to stay away from him as much as possible. He was determined he was going to get me into bed and…whatever else he had planned. If I spent too much time around

him, he was going to succeed. I knew it. Denying it—at least to myself—was not going to make that fight any easier. So, the answer was absolutely yes. Being around Sketch was a problem. “No.” “You sure about that?” I didn’t sigh, even though I really, really wanted to. “Yes. I’m sure.” “Alright. Then, it’s settled. I was pretty certain nothing about the situation was settled, but maybe that was just me. “I’ll get out of your hair,” I said. I started leaving, but he spoke before I could make it out the door. “Ash.” I turned. “Yeah?”

“Not the circumstances I’d want, but I’m glad you and that angel of yours are here.” Whoa. That was more than I ever expected from him. I couldn’t agree, even though I kind of wanted to in response to what he’d just given me. Instead, I gave him something else that was the truth. “I missed you, Uncle Stone.” Then, I got myself out of there. I was dangerously close to losing it again. I was walking back into the main room when I heard it, and I couldn’t believe my ears. My feet moved forward even as my brain stuttered. I was sure I was losing it. But no, it was definitely

what I thought it was. In the middle of the room, between two of the couches, my little fairy princess was dancing around with Daz. Through the speakers—which I was surprised weren’t bursting into flames seeing as they belonged to a bunch of bikers—was Live While We’re Young by One Direction. I cleared my throat. Daz froze and his head flew my way. “Fuck,” he muttered. “I had no idea you were a directioner, Dazzle,” I teased. “You’ve definitely got the boy band moves down, though.” “Don’t you dare tell anyone about

this,” he warned. He looked at a giggling Emmy and told her, “That goes for you, too.” “Doesn’t matter,” I heard and turned to see Ham on the other side of the room, his cell phone raised in front of him. “I got the whole thing on camera.” I burst out laughing as Daz muttered, “Fuck my life.”

“Boy, I thought you were gettin’ gone over an hour ago?” I looked up from the sketchpad at my station to Carson, who was standing over me with his pipe in his mouth. Carson was the owner of Sailor’s Grave Tattoo Parlor. He was also a fucking

brilliant artist, and my mentor. At sixtytwo, he was still a badass motherfucker. Built like a brick shithouse and hairy as a fuckin’ animal, he looked like the type of guy you didn’t fuck with. Most would never guess he was an artistic genius by looking at him, but that was their loss. He had his panama hat on—the thing had to be nearly as old as he was and just as weathered—and his hair tied back, as usual. The pipe was also par for the course, though it was always empty nowadays. He used to smoke from it. The thing would stay on him all day and he’d dip out every so often to have a toke. He never smoked it inside, but that didn’t hinder him much. Emphysema did,

though. He still kept the pipe around even though the tobacco had to go. Claimed not having the pipe made the craving stronger. “Just drawing something out,” I told him. He was right. I meant to leave an hour ago. My appointments were done and we didn’t do walk-ins. Carson said walk-ins just led to idiots putting shit on their skin they weren’t prepared to live with and doing that was a disservice to the art as a whole. I couldn’t argue that logic, but I’d still inked my fair share of shit I figured didn’t mean that much to people. “This for a client?” he asked, pulling up a chair.

Carson was hands on. I hadn’t been his apprentice in years, but he still offered his guidance from time to time. Some might find it annoying, but I was glad to take any advice he offered. I was good, I knew it and Carson knew it—he wouldn’t have trained me if I weren’t. Still, he had a lifetime of experience on me and I’d be an idiot to ignore it. “For me,” I answered. “You ain’t got a lot of real estate left.” “Nope.” “You finally addin’ to the left side of your chest?” I looked down at the design. It wasn’t right yet. It had to be perfect before I’d

ink it in permanently. “Soon, if you’ll do the honors once I get the drawing finalized.” “Glad to, kid,” Carson answered. His eyes were still on the pad. “Wouldn’t let you take it to someone else.” Carson knew me. He knew the whole long story. He’d been like a father to me since I lost Gunner. He knew, though I’d never said it, why my left pec was still mostly blank. And he knew, looking at the rough draft of what I’d put in that space, what that tattoo meant to me. “Thanks, man.” “Might make it my last before retirement.”

“What?” Carson had dialed back his work a while ago. He was only taking appointments with people he’d done work on before. Mostly, he just hung around the shop and saw to the work the rest of us were putting out. He could easily transition into full retirement at any time; it was just surprising that he would. “Been thinkin’ on it a while,” he explained. “The missus has been talkin’ about it, too. Got a lot we want to see and we ain’t gettin’ any younger. You all’ve got the skill now. Don’t need me to teach you what the fuck you’re doin’. Thinkin’ it might be the time.”

I couldn’t argue that. “It’ll be different, not having your cranky ass around.” He pointed the stem end of his pipe my way. “Shut your mouth, boy. I’m tryin’ to tell you I’m passin’ Sailor’s Grave over to you.” Fucking hell. I dropped the pencil in my hand and straightened in my seat. “Are you serious, Carson?” “I mean it. I got what I need out of it. Jean and I are set up for whatever life we’ve got left in us. Now, I just wanna make sure it moves into hands I trust. Trained my share of artists and I got a great staff workin’ here, but no one I’ve

worked with has got the talent and passion you’ve got. That’s what I want carryin’ on the legacy of this place.” “Shit. I’d love to take over for you.” “Know that.” Carson clapped a hand on my shoulder, then stood. “Gotta get all the legal shit squared away, then she’ll be yours. Come in early tomorrow, we’ll start going over shit.” Then, he just left. He walked on out like he hadn’t just dropped a huge fucking bomb on me. I looked around the shop. Jess was behind the desk and Danny was leaning against it, probably trying to get her to stop rejecting him. Clara and John had clients at their stations. Nate, the other

artist on staff, was off for the day. I couldn’t believe I was going to own the place. Fuck.

Hours later, after a meeting with Stone about guarding Ash—which I gladly took responsibility for—I finally rolled up to the farmhouse. Ace was in the living room, kicked back on the couch and watching TV. He was on Ash duty for the day, so she had to be around. “Where are the girls?” “Backyard.” The sun was mostly set and the lights

out back nearly didn’t reach where Ash was standing. It was late for Emmy to be out running around. I walked their way, not hesitating to wrap my arms around Ash when I got to her. Fuck, she felt right there. “What’re you doing out here?” I didn’t have to wait for her answer. The jar in Emmy’s hands was answer enough. Emmy jumped up and down, the costume wings she was wearing flapping with the movement, and I stifled a laugh. “We’re catching fieflies.” “Fireflies,” Ash corrected. She did that a lot and always seamlessly. She didn’t harp on Emmy for the way she

said things, just gave her the proper way and let the issue correct itself. “Fi-re-flies,” Emmy broke it down. After a nod from her mom, she went back to stalking the little flashing bugs. I hunched over, resting my chin on Ash’s shoulder. She was stiff, and it made me grin. She was trying to hold herself away from me, but she didn’t want to. If she wanted the space, she would have moved away when I first touched her. Ash was a pro at avoiding contact with people. She wanted me close; she just didn’t want me to know it. “It’s like looking back through time,” I said as I watched Emmy. “She looks just like you when we were little and

came out here, Firefly.” “I never dressed as a fairy princess,” Ash returned in a removed voice. Oh, this was going to be fun. She really was struggling. “That must’ve been my remembering of it.” “Don’t use your stupid lines on me.” “I don’t have lines. Just call ‘em like I see ‘em.” “Whatever.” I grinned. Score one for me. “I’m serious though, Ash. She’s the fucking spitting image of you.” “You think?” There went the armor already. She could try, but she wasn’t hard. I’d break

through whatever she threw up. “Exactly, Ash. She’s adorable, just like you were, and she’s going to grow up and be just as fucking gorgeous.” She ignored the inherent compliment, but I knew she would. “I just want her to grow up happy.” “She will. We’ll make sure of it.” That made her try to pull away. I’d been wrapped around her for five minutes and that was the first move she made to get out of my hold. She didn’t succeed. I tensed my arms, keeping her still. “It’s not your job,” she bit out in a hush, keeping Emmy unaware of our tiff. “I beg to differ.”

“Seriously, Sketch. It’s none of your business. She’s not yours.” I tightened my arms even more in warning. “Ash, you can throw attitude all you want. You can fight me off and I know you’re going to. But do not tell me that little girl is none of my business. Maybe she isn’t mine by blood, maybe she is. Either way, she’s going to be mine. She’s going to call me daddy and any other kids we have are going to be her siblings.” I felt her struggle at the word “daddy”, but I didn’t let up. “We talked about having three, remember? You still want two more? I like three or four. Emmy should have a

big family. She shouldn’t be alone like we were. We shouldn’t wait too much longer. We don’t want there to be a big age gap between them.” Ash turned on me, and I let her. Her hands came up to my chest and pushed me back. It was a decent push, but I didn’t budge. “Stop it,” she snapped. “I’m not having any more kids. Not with you, not with anyone. Once this crap with Barton is over, she and I are out of here. She is none of your business and we aren’t going to be some happy little family. Just stop it!” I held her to me and laid it out for her. “You aren’t going anywhere. Not

now, not after we eliminate that fucker Barton, not ever.” “You don’t own me.” “Maybe not, but I own your heart. I know, because I gave you mine when I took it. You took off with it once and it hurt like hell, there’s no fucking way I’ll go through that again.” Her lips hung open, and fuck if the need to kiss her didn’t take the edge off the frustration garnering within me. “Lookie!” Emmy squealed. We both turned to watch her run our way. Her little arms extended the jar up toward us, showing the single firefly inside. “I got one!” My heart nearly burst open when she

came right to me, handing me the jar. She was so fuckin’ proud of herself. I almost didn’t have the heart to tell her you usually caught more than one at a time. “Good work, princess. How about I help you find him a friend or two? You don’t want him to be all alone, do you?” “No. That’s sad. He needs a friend.” “Come on, let’s find some,” I said. It was another half hour before we had Emmy back inside and in bed, a jar of fireflies on her dresser. I hung out while Ash read her a story, wishing I hadn’t missed all the times it had happened before. I didn’t want to miss it again. When Emmy was asleep, Ash

lingered. She didn’t want to leave the room with me because she knew what was coming. Well, she thought she did anyway. “Come on, Firefly,” I whispered. “Let her rest.” With a heavy sigh, she passed me and went out the door. I followed, pulling the door closed without a sound. Ash was nearly through her door already, trying to escape without me getting a chance to talk to her. I jogged her way and tagged her arm. Pressing her into the doorjamb, I ran a hand along the curve of her side. “You’re a good mom, baby. It makes you even more fucking beautiful.” Her breath caught.

“I know you used to worry about how you would be a good mom when neither of us had examples, but you’re doing an amazing job.” I leaned into her frozen body, right into her neck. “Fucking magnificent,” I told her there, then nipped at her earlobe. She jumped. I straightened and took a second to look at her beautiful and overwhelmed face. She didn’t know what to do with what I’d said, but I knew what it meant to her. Mission accomplished. Cupping her face, I tilted her head back to kiss her. She let me in. I wanted to take everything she offered with that move. I wanted to devour her mouth, take her into her room, and devour

everything else. Instead, I stepped back. “Sweet dreams, Firefly,” I said. Then, I did the damn near impossible. Despite the protests of my rock hard dick, I walked away and left her to sleep on what I’d said. I had a cold shower and a long night ahead of me.

The next day was spent almost entirely back at Sailor’s Grave. I went in hours before my first appointment to start going over operations information with Carson. It wasn’t entirely unfamiliar territory. He’d taught me most of it when I was an apprentice in case I

ever wanted to leave and open my own place. Carson wouldn’t have been upset about that. It was part of the gig. I just never felt like there was a reason to leave. I wasn’t relocating with the club being in Hoffman, so it was a moot point. I also used that time to restart and scrap a few more sketches of the tattoo I was designing for myself. Every time I drew it, the design seemed flat, dull, lifeless. I didn’t want to put anything on my skin, or anyone else’s, that could be described that way. And I didn’t want to do that with this particular tattoo. Most of my day was blocked out for a large piece I was doing for one of my

long-standing clients. It was a design I was incredibly proud of, one I’d labored over hour after hour until I could say that. Carson said it was some of the best drawing he’d ever seen me do, a statement not made lightly. Some people get into tattooing because they want to put ink in skin specifically, I got into it because it was the form of art I’d chosen. Drawing was my strong suit. I was setting up my station when the bell above the door went. I glanced that way to see Ethan coming in and waved him over. “How’s it goin’?” I greeted, grabbing his hand and slapping his back. “It’s good, man. Got the call from

your club’s shop this morning that my bike will be done tomorrow,” he said as he sat and began removing his prosthetic leg. Ethan was stationed in Afghanistan, Army. His unit was ambushed. Only three of them made it out. Ethan took a hunk of shrapnel to the right leg. By the time it was extracted, the wound was infected. They were forced to amputate below the knee. He had a motorcycle before he enlisted and rode every chance he could when he was on leave. He’d managed to learn to ride again with his prosthetic, but he was struggling with the rear wheel break. His bike had a standard toe

lever on the right side, but he wasn’t getting enough tactile input to feel solid operating it. I’d hooked him up with the club’s garage to modify the break system for him. We also started talking about club life—a life he seemed to be considering for himself. After he leaned his prosthesis against the side of the chair, he pulled up the leg of his shorts to reveal the outline I’d already put down on his thigh. The tattoo was a tribute to his fallen brothers. When we’d sat down to discuss the design, he told me he wanted it on his right leg, so he would never forget what he’d lost physically was not so great as the sacrifice they had made.

That was why I’d given everything I had for this tattoo. The final design was a haunting image, one that shook me to look at. The focal point was the classic image of a battlefield cross. The helmet, gun, and boots were all going to be filled in with full saturation color and black. Around it, in a grayscale pattern of the American flag, were silhouettes of the men in his unit who were lost that day. Each silhouette I had drawn from pouring over photos Ethan brought in. I had spent hours and hours making sure each one was as exact and recognizable as possible. “It’s healed up well,” I commented

as I looked over the outline. “I was worried some of the cross might not be ready to take on again. From the looks of this, we might be able to lay in everything today, if you want to sit for it all. Then we’ll just have one touch-up appointment once it’s all healed.” “I’m all for it if you’ve got the time,” he answered. “I kept the books open so I would.” I got to work. We talked intermittently, but I focused on the work in front of me. During one of the breaks I took to rest my hand and give Ethan a breather, I checked my phone. Stone had sent a picture. Emmy was smiling huge with a marker in her hand. In front of her

was Stone’s arm covered in squiggly lines between his tattoos. He’d written, “Looks like you’ve got some competition coming up.” I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Emmy looked so fuckin’ proud of her work. “What’s up?” Ethan asked. Like the fucking sap she was making me, I turned the picture of Emmy his way. “My little girl. Apparently, she’s gonna take after me.” “She’s cute. Didn’t know you had a daughter.” “I didn’t either.” I spent a good chunk of the time I was working telling him the whole damn thing.

When I was done, he whistled. “You got a mess on your hands.” “Probably.” “She worth it?” “Absolutely.” “Glad for you then.”

By the time I got out of there in the evening, I was fucking sore. My back was tight, my shoulder ached, and I had to shake my hand out for a good ten minutes before I could get on my bike. I’d had four more appointments after Ethan left, but his kicked my ass. It was so fucking worth it, though. The tat

turned out better than I’d hoped. The visceral response Ethan had at seeing it completed told me all I’d needed to know about what he thought. Those moments, even though they killed, were what really made an impact. I’d do a hundred meaningless doodles on people if the trade off was even one piece that meant as much as Ethan’s did. I was ready to crash when I got in, but I had something important to see to before I could. Emmy was already in bed. I was a bit disappointed, but I’d expected as much. Still, I was sure she was going to be much easier to win over than her mother. I needed to focus in on the real

fight. Ash was in the kitchen, leaning over the sink while she washed dishes. For a moment, I just stood in the doorway and appreciated the view of her heart-shaped ass. She was wearing those tight, thin pants that were popular. Yoga pants? That sounded right. Whatever. Point was, they hugged her ass like a second skin, but I couldn’t see the line of her underwear, so I was imagining up all kinds of fucking wonderful explanations as to why that was. I wanted to go up and grab a handful. If I were even somewhat closer to getting her to give up this whole wearen’t-together thing, I would have.

Instead, I decided on a smarter move, even if it was a hell of a lot less fun. I started with bringing my hands to her arm, just below her shoulder. She was wearing a tank top, so it was skin on skin. She jumped, her head flying around to look at me. I grinned at her. “Hi, babe.” I ran my hand down her arm, leaving it at her bent elbow to move to her waist. I brought my other hand up to settle opposite. “What are you doing?” “What does it look like?” “I…I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Why don’t you just focus on those dishes before you make even

more of a mess?” Her head snapped back around to see the bowl she had in her hands spilling water and bubbles all down the cabinets. “Crap.” She snatched a towel and started swiping up the water. She was frazzled, like I’d hoped to make her. If there was one thing to learn from my day of “pretending” with Ash, it was that she was fighting her own desires. That was a hard fight to win, I knew from experience. I didn’t need to convince her that we worked. I just had to overwhelm her enough to make her give up the fight. While she straightened and got back to the sink full of dishes, I smoothed her

hair away from her shoulder. I let my fingers run through the curls. Ash tried to ignore me, but it was fruitless. She loved having her hair played with. She used to drop hints or just all out ask me to do it for her. As I shifted the curls around, she shivered, unable to catch the movement. “Sketch,” she warned, but there was a pleading edge to it. It was a plea for me to keep going. Her defenses were crumbling already and that was all I was after. I stepped back, enjoying the way she turned to look as if she didn’t understand where I was going. “I just wanted to ask if I could take Emmy on Saturday,” I stated.

“What?” “Emmy. Saturday. I want to take her out for the day. I’ll be on her the whole time, and I’ll leave you my car and take Roadrunner’s truck so the car seat is there and secured properly,” I explained. “Ugh…yeah. Sure.” “Sweet. Thanks, babe.” Because I had shit impulse control and couldn’t help myself, I leaned in closer and whispered, “By the way, those pants make your sweet ass look fantastic.” Leaving her with that, I grabbed a container of leftover pizza from the fridge and took it up to my room to eat. Day two, and I was already making

progress. Ash could talk her big game all she wanted, there was no way I was going to lose.

The mind is a funny thing. For instance, mine was pondering how groundskeepers managed to keep all the grass so even. Not just the length, but the color and the thickness were all completely even. It was really nice, until I started thinking about it too much, then

it started to seem unnatural. Of course, this was a not-so-brilliant defense mechanism. It was much easier to focus on the grass than it was to face the objects sticking up from it. It was Saturday. As promised, I’d let Sketch take Emmy for the day. He had her at the tattoo parlor where he worked —which gave me the answer as to whether he’d ended up pursuing tattooing after all. I hadn’t told Emmy until the day before and that had been a smart move. From the moment it was mentioned, she spoke of nothing else. It was all Sketch. How nice he was, how much fun they were going to have, how she couldn’t wait.

It shouldn't have irritated me, but it did. It totally did. Why? It could pretty much be summed up in how that morning went. I had Emmy in the kitchen eating her breakfast. It was the first time she wasn’t dropping Sketch’s name every five seconds since she’d woken up, and that was only because there was food going in. The reprieve wasn’t going to last. We got as far as me taking her bowl to the sink before it started again. “When is Sketch gonna be up? I’m so excited. What do you think we gonna do, Momma?” “I don’t know what you are going to do,” I’d said to correct her.

“I can’t wait! I hope he’s up soon.” “I’m sure he will be, baby.” “He’s the bestest. Right, Momma?” “Yeah, honey. He’s the best.” Then, I’d nearly swallowed my tongue when I’d heard, “Am I?” “Sketch!” she’d cheered. “How’s my favorite girl? Excited?” “Yes!” I didn’t want to, but I had to smile. Nothing got to me like Emmy’s happiness. I’d move heaven and earth— or force myself to deal with being near Sketch—to make her smile that way. There was no avoiding it, so I made myself look his way. Sketch’s eyes were on me, and they looked satisfied.

Whether I was saying it to placate my daughter or not, he was taking that statement as a boon. That smirk was on his face every time he looked at me as he grabbed a quick cup of coffee and some toast. It was the last thing he gave me as the two of them left. I was still seeing it in my head. Well, I had been anyway, until I started focusing on the grass. I’d only walked the path I was on twice before—once escorted by a bevy of bikers, Gabe’s hand holding mine the whole time, the other around dawn on the day I left Hoffman. Still, I knew my way. It was burned into my memory to the point that I could never forget.

Gauge was my guard for the day while Cami and Levi were with Tank. I hated having to call Stone to see who could come with me, but this was something I needed to do while Emmy was taken care of. Gauge insisted it wasn’t a bother, but I was sure he’d say that even if it were. I’d felt even worse when I asked if I could have some space. He’d understood, agreeing to stay back, but saying he would be just a few yards away. It was too risky for him to be farther than that. He’d stopped a few steps ago, leaving me to walk the remaining distance alone. The closer I got, the less the grass was able to distract me. I

started studying it closely, looking at the individual blades, trying to find a stray weed or under-grown patch. At least, I did until I saw a leaf on the ground. It drew my eyes up, looking at but not really seeing the tree just a few feet ahead. Beside it, just far enough away to keep it safe from the roots, was the headstone. The Disciples had paid good money to get that plot, one removed from the more crowded areas of the cemetery, and with the beautiful tree next to it. They had done it, in part, I believe, for me, so I would have something nice to see when I visited. I forced my lead feet to carry me the

remaining distance. Making it, I sat— more like slumped—down in front of the granite slab. Across, it was engraved: Joel “Indian” Thomas. Devoted Father, Beloved Friend. Ride On, Brother. October 7th, 1967 - July 16th, 2011. They’d even engraved the Disciples’ patch into the stone. He would have liked that. I couldn’t stop the tears. I didn’t try. “Hi, Daddy.” With shaking hands, I placed the flowers and sealed picture down in front of the headstone. “I’m not sure how you’d feel about the flowers. I got the manliest ones I could find. I don’t know if any flowers

are really manly, but I tried,” I spoke out my erratic thoughts. I’d found dahlias in a very dark purple, almost black. If a flower could work for my dad, that would be it. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited. I’ve thought about you every day. I wish you were still here.” I tried to breathe through the pain, but it didn’t seem to help. “I brought a picture of your granddaughter. Emmaline. Little Emmy. She’s so beautiful, Dad. God, I wish you could have known her. I wish you could be here to watch her grow up with me. You would love her so much, and she’d adore you. She’s turning four soon. She

looks just like me, but she’s so different. She’s so outgoing and talkative. She loves to dress up like a princess and sing and dance. She loves to be the center of attention. You wouldn’t believe how she is with the brothers. She’s got them all wrapped around her little finger. Even Daz is suddenly the awesome uncle. “I wish you were here for her. I wish you were here for me. I don’t know what to do and you always knew. You always had the advice I needed. You would have stopped me from taking off after we lost you. But you aren’t here. You weren’t there then. It’s just me, talking to a stone, wishing you hadn’t left me, just

like it was four years ago. “Why were you so committed to the fight with Barton? Why did you take that risk when you knew I needed you? I don’t understand it. Why would you ever risk leaving me?” I was close to shouting, so I forced myself to calm down. “They haven’t stopped him, not yet. Now, he’s threatening me. Emmy and I had to come back here, where the club could protect us. Being back is so hard. I feel the hole you left, all the time. Being at the clubhouse, around the brothers, seeing that patch on each of their backs —it all reminds me of you. “And there’s Gabe. I don’t know

what to do with him, Daddy. I’m still scared. I lost you because of club business. You thought it was worth laying down your life for the Disciples. What if he eventually feels the same? I couldn’t take it. “And…I don’t know if there’s something after this. I don’t know if you can actually hear me at all, if you still watch out for me. If you do, you know about Emmy. You know she might not be his. He says he wants us both. I want to believe him, but he keeps saying he knows she’s his daughter. What if he’s wrong? What if some day he figures out he’s wrong and he can’t love her the same? I can’t take that chance. I can’t.

“But god, Daddy. I want to. I’ve missed him so much. I still love him. I think I’ll always love him. And I want Emmy to have that love. I want her to have a dad, to know the love you gave me. I want it all, but I know I shouldn’t take it. “I want to think you’d understand, but I somehow think you’d be rooting for him. You always liked that I fell for Gabe, knowing he wanted to be a Disciple, too. You’d be plenty happy with him now, if that’s true. He swore he was going to win me and I’m scared he might be right. I can’t even explain it. He isn’t fighting with me and trying to make me give in. He’s…I don’t even know

how to describe it. It’s like he’s trying to tease me into breaking. “He hasn’t said a thing about winning me back since we fought about it, but he’s always there. Whenever we’re both at the farmhouse, he finds ways to get close to me. He’ll find reasons to touch me, to talk to me. He’ll sneak things from our past into conversations, forcing me to remember. Yesterday, someone put sunflowers in the kitchen. He won’t admit it. I think he might have even made someone else do it so he could say he didn’t without lying. No one will own up to it, but it had to be him. Only the two of you knew how much I loved the sunflowers he used to give me. It’s little

things like that, trying to make me remember how good we were. “He doesn’t get it. I never forgot how good we were. I never could. Emmy and I could leave when this trouble blows over and I could never see him again, but I would never forget how much I love him.” I sat there, wishing I didn’t feel as alone as I did. I wished I could somehow feel whether Dad was with me. “I don’t know what to do, and you were always the one who told me. I’m terrified I’ll make the wrong choice for me, or Emmy, or both of us. I’m terrified of leaving Gabe again, but I’m terrified

of letting him back in and losing him the way I lost you.” For a long time, I didn’t say anything else. I didn’t know what else to say. Dad was gone. He’d been gone a long time now. So long, I was hardly the same person anymore. When he left, I was still a teenager. I might have been out of high school, but it still felt like I was a kid who wasn’t ready to take on the world. That Ash was gone. I was a mother, I’d learned hard and fast what surviving on your own meant. I felt like it had been a million years since I was the Ash my father left behind…like I’d lived a whole life without him. Sometimes, I wasn’t entirely sure I

even knew the Ash I was now. My life had been so centered around Emmy since I first learned she was coming, I’d lost myself on the way. I was “Mom”. I worked, I came home, I took care of Emmy. I did what I needed to around our little apartment after she went to bed and then I crashed. That had been my life for so long, I’d forgotten what it was like to just relax until I was back in Hoffman. After a while, I started talking again. I had no idea if there was some way he could hear me, but I told my dad all about raising Emmy. I told him all the funny stories I wished he’d been there for. I shared my stories with the wind, the grass, the stone bearing my father’s

name. I hoped, with all my heart, he could hear it. Despite everything, I hoped he knew I had my beautiful daughter and I was happy. When I was wrung dry of emotions and the stories had all been told, I pushed my stiff body off the ground. I placed my hand atop the headstone and promised, “I’ll come back soon. When she’s ready, I’ll bring Emmy with me.” I lifted my fingers to my lips, kissed them, and placed my hand back on the rough stone. “I love you, Daddy. Until next time.” Then, I turned and walked back to Gauge, feeling both lighter and more weighed down by confusion than ever

before.

“Where we goin’?” Emmy asked once I had her buckled into her seat. “I thought I’d show you where I work,” I told her. “Like the diner? That’s where Mommy works.” “Kind of. It’s where I go all day and

make money, but it’s different than the diner. I think you’ll have more fun where I work.” “Do you got French fries there?” She was skeptical. “Rocco gave me French fries at the diner.” “We don’t have French fries at the shop, but if you ask nicely, my friend Jess might get you some.” I looked in the rearview to see her nodding. She turned toward the window, so I focused on the road. The silence lasted all of a minute before she asked, “Is Jess your girlfriend?” Where was she going with that? “No. She works with me. She’s a friend.”

“Like Rocco.” I still had no idea who Rocco was, but I was assuming he worked at the diner with Ash. “Yeah, like Rocco.” Emmy thought for a second before going on. “Is she pretty?” “Jess?” I asked, glancing back to see Emmy nod. “Sure. She’s pretty.” Some people didn’t think chicks with a full sleeve of tattoos and half-shaved head were pretty, but they were morons. Jess was gorgeous, and nearly always dressed like a pin-up model. “Prettier than Mommy?” Oh, shit. Is that what she was after? Was she trying to play matchmaker?

“No, princess. No one is prettier than your mom. The only girl as pretty as her is you, because you look just like her.” Whatever the devious little one had in mind, she dropped it there. Within minutes, I was hearing all about some kids on a TV show and how her favorite episode was on the day before. After that, it was some movie I wasn’t even sure she told me the name of. Then, she recapped our entire trip to the zoo for me. Damn, the girl could talk, but she was cute as hell. I parked behind the back of Sailor’s Grave, but walked around so we could go in the front door. I was carrying Emmy. I wondered if Ash would want

me to make her walk so she didn’t think she’d always be able to get carried, but it didn’t stop me. I’d barely gotten a shot to be around her yet, I wanted her as close as possible. Jess was busy with a customer when we walked in, but her eyes landed on Emmy and lit up. She knew I was bringing Emmy in. She’d been excited for days. “What is dis place?” Emmy asked. “This is a tattoo parlor.” “Ta-dude par-or.” Well, she was close. “These are tattoos,” I explained, lifting the arm I wasn’t holding her with up.

“All the drawings?” “Yep. That’s what I do at work. I draw on people.” “Momma says I’m not allowed to draw on myself,” she said in a grumpy way. “Well, not anyone can. These drawings never go away. They’re on your skin forever. People have to be taught how to do them and they have to be really good at drawing to do it.” She nodded like she was having deep thoughts as she went from looking at my arm to around the room. “Roadrunner and Untle Daz got tattoos,” she said, pronouncing “tattoos” with complete focus.

“They do. I drew a couple of them.” “Wow.” “Oh. My. God.” I looked up, and sure enough, Jess was free and headed our way. Jess tried to pull herself together, but she was still excited when she said, “You must be Emmy. I’m so excited to meet you. I’m Jess.” “Hi,” Emmy answered, smiling big. “You are such a cutie.” “I like your flowers,” Emmy said. Jess was only a few times in the chair shy of having as many tattoos as I did. One side of her head was shaved down to show the dark purple dahlias she had inked onto her scalp. The hair

she did have was curled that day with little fake flowers pinned through it. To Emmy, I’m sure it looked like princess hair. What she did next, though, won her even more favor. Jess reached up, took one of the flowers from her hair, not even caring if she disturbed some of the curls, pulled some of Emmy’s hair back on one side, and clipped the flower in. Emmy turned to me, her eyes big and looking like she was ready to burst. “I got a flower,” she whispered. “What do you say to Jess?” Her head swung back around, and she said, “Thank you, Jess.” “Of course, pretty girl,” Jess replied, smiling huge. “You going to take her

back now?” she asked me. “Is Carson in his office?” “Yep.” “I’m going to take her to meet the old man first.” I took Emmy through, hoping to avoid her seeing blood on the way. I didn’t need to freak her out on the first day I got with her. Ash would probably hesitate over giving me another chance if that happened. Carson’s door was open, so I went right in. “Give me a minute,” Carson grumbled, staring at the computer. “Damn machine is…” he trailed off when he glanced over and saw Emmy in my arms.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” he whispered before abandoning his fight with the computer to stand. “Probably,” I answered. To Emmy, I said, “This is Carson. He’s the boss around here.” “You got a lot of tat-toos,” she said to him, then thumped a hand on my chest, “like Sketch.” “That I do, little beauty. Gave that boy a few of his,” Carson said. Emmy looked me over like she could magically know which tats were Carson’s handiwork before looking back his way. “You draw on people, too? “He’s the one who taught me how,” I told her.

“Wow,” she muttered. Carson laughed. “Well, she’s good for the confidence, isn’t she? Nothin’ better than a pretty lady being impressed with you.” We hung out in Carson’s office for a while, letting Emmy have her chance to charm him. That girl could get a man to hand over his last dollar just to please her. I could only imagine the hell she was going to raise when she got older. I was going to need a couple more guns before she got to dating age—dating age being when she was thirty, or older, and married. Eventually, I took Emmy into one of the back rooms for the real reason I’d

brought her. Carson had turned one of the rooms into a place for us to create. Nothing but studio space for painting, drawing, whatever. It was always stocked with supplies he counted as a shop expense, though we each tended to replenish supplies if we used a lot on our own dime. Drying paintings covered the room, the floor splattered with the debris of creations. One end was a makeshift photography set-up. Jess dabbled in photography—usually that shit where chicks take sexy pictures in their panties for their husbands—and used that area to photograph tattoos we did for our personal portfolios and promoting the

shop as a whole. “What’s this?” Emmy asked as I brought her in and set her down. One of the easels was dropped down low and I’d stocked up on washable paints. I knelt down in front of her. “Have you ever used paints?” Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Once with Jasmine. Momma said it was too messy and could get on the carpet.” “Well, here you can make whatever mess you want.” I pulled the white tshirt I’d bought for her to use as a smock from where it was tucked into my back pocket. “We’ll put this on you so you don’t get your clothes messy, and the

floors are all clean so you can take your shoes off. You and me are gonna paint.”

Emmy and I hung in the back room at the shop for hours. She painted up a storm, getting as much of it on herself, the floor, and my jeans as she did on any of the paper I gave her. While she swiped bright colors all over in big sweeps, I painted her. I hadn’t done as much painting once tattooing came into my life. I spent so much time sketching out designs, I rarely picked up a brush. I painted my Emmy with the big grin she wore while she created. I even

painted the streak of pink she got on her cheek and the mess of colors on her hands. We’d taken a break to eat lunch, which included French fries Jess ran out to get us. I showed Emmy what a tattoo machine looked like. She was fascinated and it was adorable. After cleaning the paint off her and taking her out to dinner, we headed home. The drive wasn’t long, but Emmy conked out in the back. She hadn’t had a nap, or a real break, all day. She’d been going, going, going—painting, entertaining everyone at the shop, talking until I was sure she had to be close to running out of things to say. I wasn’t

surprised when she slept right through me getting her out of the truck. She didn’t even stir when we got inside. Ash came up to me right away. She knew we were on our way back. I’d messaged her a few times to keep her posted throughout the day. “She’s out,” I said. “That’s alright, it’s about bedtime anyway,” Ash answered. “I can take her and get her to bed.” “I’ll carry her in.” Once I had Emmy on her bed, I stepped out and let Ash get her changed alone. I wanted to stay. I wanted to start learning everything involved in taking care of her, but I’d had Emmy to myself

all day. I could let Ash have that time. For now. I was still in the hall when Ash came out and shut the door quietly behind her. “She’s settled in?” Ash nodded. “She woke while I was getting her ready. She wouldn’t let me take that flower out of her hair until I told her exactly where I was putting it. She said someone named Jess gave it to her.” “Jess is the receptionist at the shop,” I explained. “Right,” Ash replied. She wanted to say something else, I could tell by the way her lips crunched over to the side. “And is she…”

Oh, so my Ash wanted to be sure I wasn’t sleeping with someone else, huh? “Never slept with her. Never would.” “Oh, I didn’t—” “Yes, you did,” I cut her off. “You wanted to know if I was fucking her. I’m not having anyone but you.” “We aren’t sleeping together again, Sketch. You can do whatever you want.” She said it, but she didn’t mean it. She couldn’t even look me in the eyes. I walked toward her, backing her into her room, then shut us in. “How long do you plan on playing this game?” “I’m not playing a game,” she

snapped. “You are, babe. We both know it. You want me almost as much as I want you.” She didn’t argue that. A lot of things Ash was—shy, stubborn as hell—but she wasn’t a liar. “All you have to do is say the word and we can both have what we want,” I told her. Ash’s eyes stayed far away from me, her lips sealed. There wasn’t a thing she could say without lying and she couldn’t even look at me without wanting to give in. She was losing, and she knew it. Without a word, I lifted my shirt off. Moving into her, I brought my hands to

her shoulders so I could push the open sweater she had on down her arms. “What are you doing?” she whispered. “I decided I don’t need you to say it. If you don’t want this, you tell me now. You say nothing, babe, then I’m giving you what we both need.” “Sketch…” Her sweater gone, I went for the hem of her tee. “That’s not a no, baby. Last chance.” Her eyes looked scared, and I tensed. She was going to stop this. She was going to push me away. “Yes,” she whispered. Holy fuck.

Yes. I ripped off the rest of her clothes and mine, our lips locked together. She was running hot as hell, a straight-up wildcat. I got her on the bed. It wasn’t gentle, but I couldn’t fucking contain myself. After years, I’d finally gotten another taste of her, and I’d been dying for it in the days since. As soon as she was on her back, I settled between her thighs and thrust home. “Heaven, baby,” I whispered into her vanilla skin. “Gabe,” she pleaded. She needed more, and I was more than fucking happy to deliver.

Weeks had passed and I wasn’t the only one getting stir crazy being trapped in the house. Emmy may not have been fighting off the advances of a seriously determined biker, but she was still in the house all day with little variety when she was used to spending time with

Jasmine, who usually took her out somewhere, or getting out somehow with me when I wasn’t working. I’d started taking her to a park Dad used to take me to as a kid. We’d been four times in as many days, including that afternoon. Our guards would have preferred to keep us home, but they saw the wisdom of getting a hyper three-year-old out of the house to expend some energy. Mostly, I think they weren’t fond of having to lurk around near a playground. They definitely got a few distrusting looks. Ace had accompanied us twice, Roadrunner took the responsibility once, and we had Jager along now, who was probably the least thrilled, not that he

said anything to the effect. Only Roadrunner sat with me, the other two handled their responsibility from a distance by pacing around and watching everything. That probably didn’t help with the distrusting looks from other parents. Emmy had taken off as soon as we arrived, running over to a little girl who seemed to be around frequently when we were. I’d heard all about June, who seemed to be Emmy’s first best friend. I was glad it was working out for as long as it lasted. Emmy hadn’t had much opportunity to spend a lot of time with kids her own age yet. She’d be starting preschool in the fall, which would help,

but it was good for my social daughter to get opportunities to make friends. I was sitting on my usual bench, watching Emmy and trying to keep my mind from going to thoughts of Sketch. My sanity where he was concerned was hanging on by a thread. As ashamed as I was to admit it, he’d spent the majority of the last two weeks in my bed. That didn’t mean I was giving in to the idea of us being together again. I couldn’t do that. We were just…fucking, I guess. People had casual sex all the time. I could totally do it, too. Right? “Deep thoughts, and not pleasant ones by the look of it,” a voice said from

beside me. There was a man standing there— attractive, a few years older than me, brown hair and eyes, a friendly smile. “I’m sorry, what?” I asked. “Never mind, it was just a stupid way to start a conversation,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. Crap. What did I do now? I hated talking to people I didn’t know. He moved things forward before I made it super awkward. “I’m Derrick, June’s father,” he introduced himself. “You’re Emmy’s mom, right?” “Oh. Yes. I’m Ashlynn, but everyone calls me Ash.” Then, I thought of something. Emmy said June’s last name

was… “Wait. So your name is—” “Derrick Merryck,” he confirmed before I could finish, nodding. “My parents had a sick sense of humor.” Unable to help myself, I started laughing. “I’m sorry. Really. But that’s kind of funny.” “No kind of about it. Of course, it’s annoying when everyone thinks you’re giving them a fake name,” he said. “Especially if it’s a beautiful woman.” I didn’t catch the meaning in his words until I noticed the intensity in his gaze. I had no idea what to say. I was pretty sure he was flirting. Was I supposed to flirt back? How did I flirt? “Though, the name doesn’t matter

much when you come on too strong to that beautiful woman and blow it,” he quipped. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I’m making this super awkward.” His smile was comforting. It made me feel a little less like I was totally inept at talking to people. “How about we start over,” he suggested, offering me his hand. Only then did I notice the tattoos beneath the rolled sleeves of his Henley. “Wow. That’s some serious ink.” His head snapped down to look at his arm, as though he had no idea the artwork was there. He immediately started pulling down his sleeves.

“Sorry. I forgot that was showing.” “Don’t cover it on my account,” I insisted, still looking at the colorful design on his left arm. “It’s a beautiful piece.” “It doesn’t bother you?” he asked what I thought was a strange question. “No. Why would it?” He grinned. “A lot of other mothers don’t share your views. I usually keep myself covered when I’m meeting other parents. I couldn’t care less what they think of me, but I don’t want it to become an issue for June.” “Well, you don’t have to worry about it with me. My dad was covered in tattoos and he was an amazing father,” I

explained. “Do you have any tattoos?” “No. Not yet, anyway.” I’d never had the cash for that kind of thing, but I’d been thinking about it more and more since I saw Sketch’s frequently. The thought of Sketch had me wondering if it was bad of me to be having that conversation with Derrick. Were we flirting? I didn’t know. If we were, was that bad given what I was doing with Sketch? Or did the fact that it was just casual—at least for me—mean flirting was fine? Why couldn’t I just be normal and know how to handle things like this? “Well, if you’re ever looking to get

any work done, let me know. The guy who’s done all of mine is local, and he’s an incredible artist.” Yeah, I could just imagine how well it would go over with Sketch if I got a tattoo from someone else. He’d flip out. No. I had to stop. Why was I thinking in terms of how Sketch would react? Why was I giving him that power? We weren’t together. I needed to stop thinking of him like we were. Immediately. I assured Derrick I’d let him know if the time came when I wanted some ink, and the conversation kept right on from there. We talked about our girls, his job as a foreman, the struggle of picking a

preschool program. Eventually, he noticed the looks I was exchanging with Jager, who didn’t seem all that comfortable with Derrick sitting by me. Derrick looked Jager’s way, then back to me. “Is he your man?” “No. We’re not together,” I assured him. “Is he Emmy’s dad?” “No. He’s…like an uncle,” I explained. “Is my being here going to be a problem?” “No, he’s just protective of us.” I waved Jager off and tried to reassure him all was well, but he didn’t look placated. Oh well. Whatever Derrick

was, he didn’t seem to be a threat to my safety. “I don’t mean to bring up an awkward subject, but you haven’t mentioned Emmy’s dad. Is he not in the picture?” “No, he’s not.” At least, he probably wasn’t. Or maybe he was. I didn’t know. Derrick nodded, but he didn’t look like he was judging me. “I really wish I could say June’s mom wasn’t in ours.” “Bad?” “Pretty. Meg is all about herself. I swear, she only wanted to have June because she was on the outside of our social circle when we were married since she didn’t have a kid. When we

divorced, she hooked herself a new man with a six-figure income and the social sphere changed. Kids weren’t a part of it anymore. June’s no longer the perfect accessory, so Meg doesn’t care to have her around. Meg moved to upstate New York and only reaches out to June when it suits her, or when she has gone too long without trying to make me miserable.” “That’s terrible,” I said, my eyes going to June and Emmy. “I couldn’t imagine going even a day without at least talking to Emmy. She’s my whole world.” He gave me a look I could only describe as approving. I felt that twinge

of guilt again and saw Sketch’s face in my head. Once our babies were too drained to keep playing, we decided it was time to go. “We’ll have to do this again soon,” he said as we each carried our tuckered out daughters to the parking lot. “Absolutely.” “I don’t mean to be forward, but you never mentioned a boyfriend or anything,” he hedged. I was unsure what to do, but I went with the truth—or mostly the truth. “That’s because there isn’t one.” “Would you like to go out to dinner with me some time?”

Whoa. Okay. Now what? He must have read the mini-freak out on my face. “I have a great sitter I trust with June, I’m sure she’d be happy to watch both girls for the evening,” he offered. I still had no idea what to say. “Or maybe I just made this very uncomfortable.” Part of me wanted to say yes, if only to let him off the hook. “No, that’s not it. I’m sorry. I’m just really awkward and not sure what to say.” “How about yes?” “I want to, but…” He read the way I trailed off for what it was. “But there’s someone, even if he

isn’t a boyfriend.” “Kind of. Maybe? I don’t really know. We’re mostly just a disaster.” “Tell you what,” he said, “how about, for now, we stick to being friends. We can hang out when the girls are together. I’ll be around, and if things with disaster guy end, I’m here. If you aren’t comfortable asking me out if that time comes, you can just drop hints and I’ll ask again.” “I couldn’t—” “Don’t worry about keeping me on the hook. I get it. Things might work out with disaster guy, and that’s a risk I’m willing to take. But I have to be honest, I’m hoping they don’t. It’s not every day

I meet another single parent who’s a good mom, sweet, and beautiful like you. I’ll be hoping for my chance, and I’m willing to wait around to see if I get it.” Damn. That was really sweet. “Okay,” I gave in. “Okay,” he repeated. We exchanged numbers so we could set up a play-date for the girls and went our separate ways. I was so preoccupied with our conversation, I didn’t pay much mind to the roar of pipes approaching the lot, or when they left a minute later.

I was back at the house when she got there. First, I had a head start on her. Second, there was no way she’d go the speed I’d ridden, especially not with Emmy in the car. She also didn’t have the image of the woman she fucking loved giving someone else her number.

I’d had to get the fuck back before her so I could try to get some control over myself before I saw her. This shit between us had to stop. I’d been doing everything I could to get her back for fucking weeks. If she was seriously going to go out with another guy, maybe it was time to give up and accept that my Ash was gone. But fuck if I could actually bring myself to do that. I heard her car pulling up, the sound of it echoing so loudly in my head, it was like I was there on the ground she was rolling over. I paced while I waited for her to come inside, agitated at how long it was taking. When she made it in,

she had a sleeping Emmy in her arms. She saw me standing there, and said, “Hi.” Hi. She’d had me in her bed nearly every night for weeks and gave another man her number and I get a “hi”. Fuck. I was going to lose it. When I didn’t say anything, she went on, “I need to put her down.” “Do it. We need to talk out back.” She looked surprised, and slightly worried, but went about doing it anyway. I left without waiting for her. I needed to get out back before I started screaming or destroyed something. Emmy didn’t have any windows facing the backyard, so hopefully I could control myself

enough for her to sleep through it all. Ash came out looking hesitant. Half of me yearned to reassure her, but the rest was still fucking pissed. “Sketch—” The worried way she said my name made me snap. “Is this the new Ash? You just bounce around collecting guys to fuck?” She stepped back like I’d hit her. “What are you talking about?” “Or is it more? Do you want to be Mrs. fucking Derrick Merryck?” At her shocked face, I explained, “I rode over to the park. I was going to relieve Jager of guard duty.” “How do you even know him?” she

asked. “Who do you think put all that ink in his skin?” She said the wrong thing then. “Wow. Those tattoos are beautiful.” “Are you seriously fucking talking to me about how good tattoos look on some other guy’s arms?” She decided to change topics. “Sketch, I just met him today. Emmy’s been playing with his daughter when we’re at the park. He came over to introduce himself.” “And try to get you to fuck him.” “It wasn’t like that.” “Really? So he didn’t ask you out and you didn’t give him your number?”

She bit her lip. “I know exactly what it’s like, Ash,” I snapped. “Okay. Yes. He asked me out, but I didn’t say yes. I only gave him my number so we could set up a play-date for the girls. It’s important for Emmy to have friends her own age.” Fuck. What she was saying made sense, but I was still seeing red. “We wouldn’t have to be in this fucking situation if you would just admit you’re mine. Fuck, Ash. I’m in your bed every night. I’m tired of being your fuck buddy. You and Emmy are mine. Just say it.” She started backing away, her head

shaking back and forth. I hadn’t seen that look on her face, scared and ready to bolt, since the night I lost her. “I can’t,” she whispered. Fuck can’t. “Why the fuck not?” She didn’t answer, so I kept going. “What’s stopping you? Your life in Portland? You worked at a fuckin’ diner until you looked half-dead with exhaustion when Roadrunner found you.” Saying Roadrunner’s name made a memory I’d forgotten come back. Roadrunner and Stone in the kitchen the first night Ash was back. “—didn’t even have a bed, for fuck’s sake. Just slept on the fucking couch

for Christ knows how long.” I looked at her, at a loss for words for a second. A couch? “Did you sleep on a couch?” She paled, and that was all the answer I needed. “That’s why you can’t? Because you’ve got such a great life to leave behind? Fucking hell, Ash. You don’t deserve to be doing any of that shit. Working yourself to death and not even getting to be around Emmy as much as you both deserve because you have to provide for her. I could take care of both of you. You could go back to school. You could stay home with Emmy all day. Whatever the fuck you wanted. You

could still be a waitress if it meant something to you, but you wouldn’t be forced to do it. And never, not even once, would you be forced to sleep on a fucking couch instead of in a bed where you belong. “You’ve got friends there? Fine. Portland’s not that far. We can drive in and see them whenever you want. They can come here to visit. I don’t fucking care. What I care about is that we stop with this stupid game and you admit we aren’t just fucking. “And before you say one word about it, I’ll tell you what I’ve told you before: I want Emmy, too. I want her to know me as her dad. I want both of you, and I’ll

give you both everything you need. You just have to let me.” I could hardly breathe and Ash was so still, I wasn’t sure she was. My whole body vibrated. I didn’t know whether it was frustration, or fear she would reject me again, but it had complete hold of me. Ash just stared at me with her blue eyes wide. Every passing second felt like a lifetime, each one ticking me closer to the death blow I was becoming more sure was about to be delivered. “Sketch…” Fuck. No. It was consoling.

“I…I don’t…” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She was saying no. I wanted to demand she say it. I wanted to make her stand there in front of me and tell me to my fucking face she didn’t want me. I wanted to force her to do it so she might feel even a fraction of what I was feeling. But I was too much of a fucking pussy to hear her say it. I couldn’t live with the memory of those words coming out of her mouth. I’d barely survived her leaving without saying a thing. So, this time, I was going to be the one who walked away.

I almost made it. I got past Ash, inside, and nearly to the front door to grab the key to my bike and leave, when I was stopped. “Sketch?” It wasn’t the voice I wanted to hear, but god, it was close. Emmy was standing in the hall, the stuffed otter I’d gotten her that day at the zoo hugged close to her chest. I couldn’t walk away from her. I didn’t have it in me. I went her way and knelt down. She immediately came to me, letting me wrap her up in my arms and lift her off the floor. “Hey, princess.”

“Where you goin’?” Damn. Wasn’t that the fuckin’ question? Where the hell would I go? Ash was at least staying in the short term. Then, what? I just let her leave and take Emmy with her? Even if Ash didn’t want me, I was sure, down to my bones, Emmy was mine. I wouldn’t let her be taken away from me. I might not be fighting for Ash’s heart anymore, but I still had a battle on my hands—one I couldn’t win if I took off. “Nowhere,” I told her. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking a nap?” “I heard noises. They woke me up.” Just go ahead and put my name on the Asshole of the Year award.

“I’m sorry, that was my fault. Why don’t we get you back to bed? I promise, it’ll be quiet now.” She nodded and snuggled against my chest as I carried her back to her room. Poor thing was wiped. I was tucking her in, pulling the pink and white princess blanket up over her, when she spoke again. “Are you going to be my daddy?” I was so fucking floored by the question, I didn’t answer. Emmy, my persistent girl, kept going. “I always wanted a daddy. You’d be a real good one. You and Mommy could get married and you could be my daddy.” Fuck. This girl. She was too fucking

much. “I don’t know, princess,” I admitted. Her expression fell, and I couldn’t stand it. “I’ll tell you a secret, though, if you promise to keep it.” Her little face broke into a smile again and she nodded. “I pwomise.” Fuck, so cute. “I want to be your daddy. Getting to be someone’s daddy isn’t easy, and I don’t know if I can, but I promise you, I’m going to try my hardest to make it happen. Okay?” Emmy got to her feet, stood on the bed, and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Okay, Daddy.” Fuck.

I hugged her tight. I meant what I’d said to her. I was going to do every fucking thing in my power to make it legal, to make absolutely damn sure that would not be the only time I heard her call me daddy.

He left. I’d stood there like an idiot and not said anything while he walked away. Go after him, some part of me was screaming, fix this. What was I supposed to do? “Are you going to let him go?”

I turned and saw Jager standing on the deck, the powerful build of his body as intimidating as ever. At first, I thought it was anger in his gaze. I’d hurt his brother. I wondered if that would be the reaction I’d get from all the brothers. They hadn’t treated me differently because I’d left Sketch the first time, but maybe this would be too much. “Don’t make that mistake,” Jager spoke again. I realized then he wasn’t angry, he was disappointed in me. “You don’t understand. There are things none of you know,” I tried. “I imagine that’s true. Doesn’t mean you should let him go. Everyone’s got

some skeletons in their closet.” I asked the question that had been plaguing me. “What if I tell him and he can’t see me the same way? What if he can’t see Emmy the same way?” “From what I understand, he’s been in love with you since you were four. I don’t think anything will change the way he sees you besides you pushing him out.” I looked away. “I don’t think he loves me anymore.” “Don’t be stupid.” My head snapped back to him. “What?” “He loves you. Just the same as you love him. You takin’ off might’ve been

hard, but that doesn’t change how he feels about you.” “How do you know that?” “Because you might be keepin’ your eyes closed, but the rest of us have seen you two since you got back. It’s hard to miss.” Crap. Was that true? Had I missed it because I was trying to keep Sketch away? “Life is short, Ash. You know that. We all felt the pain when we lost Indian, but I know you felt it more deeply than the rest of us. I know what that shit’s like. Believe me, I know.” His voice went rough on the last words and I saw

the pain suffusing his face. It hit me with a sickening clarity that the pain he was allowing himself to expose was always there, hiding beneath his controlled features, lurking in the back of his eyes. It was a familiar pain, one I felt myself, but it was so much stronger. Jager had lost someone, someone close—maybe even more than once. What had he been through? “Jager…” I wanted to say something to help, but I knew from experience sympathetic banalities didn’t ease the hurt. “I don’t talk about it,” he clipped. “I won’t. It was a long time ago. Just know, I get you. I get that you’re still hurting,

that it’ll always hurt. But you gotta know he’s hurting, too. He lost Indian with us, he lost Gunner, but worst of all, for those years, he lost you and lost out on that time with Emmy.” I told him the reality the brothers didn’t know. “What if she isn’t his?” He didn’t even blink. “Don’t think it’ll matter.” I told myself to move, to catch up with Sketch before he took off, but my feet didn’t listen. Fear cemented me to the spot. He’d given me my chance. What if it was too late? “Go,” Jager insisted. “He wants a statement. Go give it to him.” That got me moving. One step, two,

then faster, until I was running through the back door. “I’ll watch Emmy if she wakes up,” Jager called after me. I wanted to thank him, but that involved slowing down. I couldn’t do that. It would be half a miracle if Sketch hadn’t left already. I rushed through the house and came skidding to a halt when he walked from the hall where my and Emmy’s bedrooms were. The fear that I’d missed my chance gripped me again, and he misunderstood my wavering. “Emmy was out of bed. I was just settling her back in,” he explained. God, he was sweet. Even when he was pissed at me, he still stayed to take

care of her. I was an idiot. “I’m yours,” I blurted. He just stared at me. I forced myself to keep going, despite being sure I was going to pass out. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I’ve always been yours. I was yours the first time we met and you were so nice to me even though I was shy. I was yours all those years when we were kids and you were my only real friend. I was yours when you threatened an entire room full of people because some girls were bullying me. I was yours when you held me through Dad’s funeral. I was yours every single day since I left. And I—”

“Ash,” he cut in. For a long, sickening moment, I was certain he was going to tell me it didn’t make a difference. I was so positive he was going to tell me he wasn’t mine anymore so none of that mattered. It felt like my heart was teetering on a precipice and I was watching as it tipped over the side. “Yeah?” “Shut up.” I did. Sketch’s face was blank, but his eyes were intense. I just couldn’t read what that intensity meant. “Prove it,” he said. And I did.

I threw myself at him, and he was there to catch me. I barreled into his chest and his arms dropped to my thighs to hoist me up. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and he held onto me tight. I slammed my mouth down onto his and he kissed me back harder than I’d ever felt. Sketch tore his mouth away from mine. “Say it again,” he demanded. I ran my hand down his cheek, smoothing it along his clenched jaw. He had a loose hold on his control and I wanted it to break. “I’m yours.” I felt the growl he released in response vibrate from his chest to mine,

from his lips to mine as he kissed me. It was different than it had been the past few weeks. The intensity was nearly consuming. “I want you in my bed,” he said against my lips. “Yes.” I expected him to put me down, but he started walking to the stairs. I yelped and gripped him tighter when he took the first step. “I can walk,” I tried. Seriously, falling down the stairs seemed like a surefire way for me not to get him naked, and I really, really wanted that. “And I can carry you.” Four steps up, I was thinking he was right. He didn’t

seem to struggle at all. One of his hands went to the back of my head, pressing me into his neck. I grinned against his skin and took the hint. I pressed my lips to his, my tongue darting out to taste him. His groan had me nipping at him, wanting to get him as excited as I was. Then, I stepped it up even more. I sucked deep on his skin, wanting to mark him. “Fuck, baby. You give me a hickey and I’m never gonna hear the end of that shit.” I released him and pulled back. “Do you want me to stop?” “Fuck no.” I gave another little pull on the spot,

wanting to make sure I left a mark. The hand he had supporting my butt went away, then returned with a solid smack. I gasped, but it turned into a moan when he massaged my stinging butt down to between my legs. “Are you set for me already?” “Yes.” “That word gets me so goddamn hard when you say it.” “Yes?” “Mmm,” he agreed. “And I’m going to make you scream it for me soon.” I was sure he would. The thought made certain parts of me clench, a motion that carried down my thighs. He felt it and gave me a hot look.

“Soon, baby,” he promised. Sketch carried me into his room, a place I hadn’t been. Every night we’d spent together had been in my room in case Emmy woke and came looking for me. At least, that had been my reasoning. We’d never actually had a conversation to the effect. I didn’t get a chance to look around. Sketch kicked the door shut behind us, reached out to flip the lock, and within the next breath, I was on my back on his bed and he was on top of me. Our clothes were in the way, annoyingly so, and we ripped them off each other. There was no foreplay, no delaying at all. We didn’t need it. As soon as he

kicked off his jeans, he spread my legs wide, settled between them, and slid inside in one motion. “Oh god,” I moaned, arching to take him deeper. But he didn’t move. “Tell me, Ashlynn.” “I’m yours.” He circled his hips, rubbing against my clit in a way that had me crying out. “Not that.” “Then what?” I asked, begging for the answer. “I want something else from you, something I haven’t heard from you in four years.” He shifted his hips to punctuate his

demand and I lost track of what he’d said. He was so deep, but I needed him to move. I needed more before I lost my mind. “What?” “Baby, give me what I want and you’ll get what you want.” “What do you want?” He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Tell me how you feel about me, Firefly.” I froze. “Tell me,” he pushed, pressing into me. I was freaking out and too aroused to deal with the situation. “Please,” I begged.

He pulled out until the head of him was barely inside of me. I cried out at the loss. “Tell me.” “I…” I couldn’t do it. “Sweetheart, tell me. I already know.” “Sketch.” He gave me a chastising look. “Gabe,” I corrected. “Just say it. I promise you won’t regret it.” I stopped looking at him and really read what was in his eyes. They were warm, beautifully so. I felt the panic at what he was asking for ease. He knew, like he always did, how I was feeling.

“Say it,” he coaxed. “I love you.” He thrust inside me, taking me rough and deep, until I was screaming out, just like he’d said I would. He was relentless, not letting up even as I came the first time. He never slowed, only held my legs apart more as I attempted to pull them together in the throes of my orgasm. He kept right on fucking me until I came again and I knew he was going to go with me. Right at the last second, as I was rocked with waves of pleasure, he growled, “Say it again.” “I love you,” I moaned. He buried his face in my neck and

said on a groan as he came, “I love you, Ash.”

I watched my hands glide over Ash’s soft skin. She flinched away from me every so often, my touch tickling her. Her body wasn’t fully recovered from my fucking yet. It was a familiar exchange. We’d done it years ago, and we’d been doing

it over the weeks since she came back. Still, after her admitting she still loved me, it felt brand new. I felt lighter than I could remember being since before we lost Indian. I wanted to stay there as long as physically possible. She looked around the room, seeming to notice the details of it for the first time before her eyes honed in on the pictures I had framed on the shelf. “There’s pictures of us,” she whispered. “Yeah.” She looked at me in shock. I knew why, but still, I said, “No reason to be shocked, babe. I never wanted to give you up. Part of me always held onto some hope I’d get you back.”

My girl, like she frequently did, didn’t know what to say. I knew it when she didn’t say a thing, she just pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to my chest that—I shit you not—was enough to make up for all the shit that happened in the past. Her eyes went back to the shelf, moving over the pictures of us over the years, until they stopped on the last frame. “Gunner,” she whispered. The familiar pain settled in my chest when I thought about losing my uncle. “Gunner,” I acknowledged. “You miss him,” she guessed, knowing Gunner meant as much to me as Indian did to her. “Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry you lost him,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you.” “I know, baby.” And fuck if pulling her in close to me didn’t ease that pain, too. “I want to draw you,” I told her after a bit of silence, not wanting to dwell in the past anymore. I had Ash again, and we were going to focus on the future. “You’ve done that before,” she pointed out. I had, I’d drawn her more times than I could count. “Yeah, but I’ve never drawn you like this.” Understanding had her eyes

widening. “You want to draw me naked?” “Mmm,” I murmured in response as I kissed her shoulder. “What if someone sees it?” “No one’s going to see it.” “I’m sure Rose thought that, too.” “Who’s Rose?” “From Titanic. Jack draws her naked and the crew searching the wreck sees the picture of her.” How had I forgotten how ridiculous she could be? Damn, it was fucking cute. “Baby,” I pulled her back to reality, “you gonna let me draw you or not?” “Right now?” “No, but sometime soon.”

She shifted away from me slightly. I didn’t like that shit at all. “I don’t know.” I pulled her back against me. “Why’re you getting shy with me?” “My body’s changed a lot…” “Ash, I’ve spent the last few weeks getting reacquainted with every inch of you. I know your body has changed, and I fuckin’ like it. We’ve talked about this before. You gotta let it go. I want to draw you, exactly how you are now, not eighteen-year-old you.” She settled again, her body relaxing against my side, her leg sprawling across both of mine. “Maybe for your birthday,” she said.

Maybe my ass. She was totally going to let me. Her veiled agreement made a thought occur to me. “When’s Emmy’s birthday? She said it was soon.” “Two weeks from now. April twentyfirst.” I pushed back thoughts of the birthdays I’d missed as I told her, “We’ll plan something for her. Throw a party.” “She’s never had a big birthday party. Last year was just me, my friend Jasmine, and her mom. Though, I wonder if she even remembers it. She was still pretty little then.” “She’ll get parties from now on. The

brother’s will love throwing them for her.” We were both quiet for a bit. I was sure we needed to get up and get dressed soon. I didn’t know how long Emmy was going to nap, but I didn’t imagine we had much longer. There was one more thing I wanted to talk about first. “I’ll talk to Gauge tomorrow about paternity testing. He had it done when that bitch was pregnant with Levi. He probably still has the info for the company he used.” Ash shot up to sitting, gripping the sheet against her chest. “What?” “We’ll get a paternity test done and

then have me added to Emmy’s birth certificate. They probably need the test for that, don’t they? Maybe not. Maybe if we both declare it, it won’t matter,” the last part was mostly said to myself, but it didn’t matter. Ash wasn’t with me. “Paternity test?” she asked, like I’d suggested we play a round of Russian Roulette with Emmy instead. “Yeah, babe.” “I don’t want to do a paternity test.” Yeah, part of me was worried about it, too. It didn’t matter, though. Emmy was going to be my daughter either way. “It won’t matter, baby. I already love that girl. We’ll figure out the best way to make her my daughter, either way,” I

tried to assure her. “No.” “No?” “No test. I don’t want to do a test. I won’t.” “Babe, it doesn’t matter what it says. I think we might need it to know what to do legally to make her mine.” “It does matter. It matters a lot. I don’t want a test,” Ash kept insisting. “Whoever the guy was, we won’t have to contact him. It won’t matter—” “No!” Ash cut me off. “I won’t do it. I don’t want the results.” “What if it proves I’m her father?” “I don’t want to know.” Ash got to her feet and started pulling

her clothes from the floor. She was yanking them on as fast as she could manage. What the hell? “Firefly—” “No! I said I don’t want to do it. You can’t make me do it. I don’t want those results. I don’t want to know!” I was on my feet then, snatching my jeans from the ground and pulling them on. “You don’t want to know? You don’t even want to know definitively that Emmy’s mine.” My own words, and the truth I feared they held, hit me and I felt fucking sick. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want to find out she’s mine.”

“No, it’s not that,” she said, but she didn’t look at me, and she didn’t explain what it was. She just kept dressing. “Fuck. That is it. You don’t want to find out I am her father. You’re still holding onto all your hate toward the Disciples. You’re still blaming the club for takin’ your dad from you. What, was your plan to admit you loved me and then try to convince me to leave the club again?” “No, I…” She didn’t finish, and I didn’t let her figure out what she was going to say. “Fucking hell, Ash. You don’t even fucking know. It wasn’t the club who got your dad killed, it was Indian who got

the club into that whole mess in the first place! But that doesn’t even fucking matter to you, does it? You’re going to hold onto this grudge and your fear.” She looked shocked at what I’d said about Indian, but it was the truth. It was just a truth everyone had been keeping from her. They thought it was best, I thought it was bullshit. Not knowing was giving her a reason to continue trying to pull away from me. I wasn’t going to let it keep happening. “You don’t want to do the test because you’re afraid it’ll prove I’m Emmy’s dad,” I went on, completely past the point of controlling the years of frustration that had built up. “You’re

terrified of finding out her dad is a biker, just like yours!” “No!” she shouted at me. “I’m afraid of finding out her father is a rapist!” No. Fuck no. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck no. Tears poured down her face and she started to sway. Her knees were going to give out on her. I ran to her and pulled her into my arms. I sat us both on the bed, her body folding over until her whole torso was bent over my thighs. “Shh, baby. I’ve got you,” I comforted her, all the while trying to top the echo of her words from repeating again and again in my head.

I was going to fucking lose it. If Ash weren’t clinging to me, I already would have. I didn’t care what it took, I was going to find the motherfucker and I was going to fucking revel in killing him slowly. He was going to beg me to off him before I was done. “I was going to come back,” Ash said between gasping breaths. “I missed you so much and I couldn’t take it. I was going to come back even though I was still scared. Then, he…” She let out a sob that felt like a blow to the ribs—no, it felt worse. There was no recovering from the damage she was dealing. “I didn’t know what to do. I felt so dirty. I

didn’t want to come back like that. Then, I found out I was pregnant. What if it wasn’t yours? How could I come back pregnant with a baby that might not be yours? How could I…” her tears devoured her words. She thought she couldn’t come back to me. She was going to; I was going to get another chance to get her to stay. He took that from both of us. He made my beautiful girl feel dirty. I could feel myself shaking. With my hands beneath her arms, I pulled Ash up and shifted us both until we were lying on the bed. I wrapped her up, bringing her as close as I could. We needed to hold on to each other. I needed

her to ground me; she needed me to make her feel safe. “You need to understand something, Ashlynn,” I told her. She didn’t respond, but I didn’t expect her to. “I don’t think you’re dirty. I would never think that. I hate that you experienced that, and I would give anything to change it, but you are not dirty. You never were.” For a while, I didn’t say anything else. I just held her while her cries grew quieter, her breathing steadier. Only when I felt her start to relax did I say what I needed to. I needed to be sure she was hearing it. “This changes nothing. It doesn’t impact how I feel about you, and it

doesn’t impact how I feel about Emmy. Both of you are mine,” I declared. Ash gave a little hiccupping sob and I soothed my hand up and down her back, allowing the touch to calm us both. “We’ll see what we can do about having her declared my daughter without a paternity test. If there isn’t a way to add me to the birth certificate, I’ll adopt her. We can figure out what to tell her when the time comes.” “You’d do that?” Her eyes were puffy and red, but it was the tentative hope that took my attention. “Yes. In a fucking heartbeat. I would sign whatever I needed to right now if I could.”

She buried her face in my neck, but I could still hear her muffled voice when she said, “I don’t want to do the test. I don’t think I could handle finding out she isn’t yours. I would never wish Emmy wasn’t in my life, but how could I be happy that—” “We don’t have to do it. Emmaline is a fuckin’ miracle. That’s it. We don’t have to worry about how.” Ash shocked the hell out of me when she spoke. “Sometimes, I don’t know how to handle it. I mean, if I hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have…experienced that. But what if that’s the only reason I have her? It makes me crazy. When I was pregnant,

I used to wonder all the time if I was making a mistake. By the time she came, I wouldn’t even let myself think about it. I forced myself into a state of denial, insisting she had to be yours. Then, I held her that first time and…I can’t even put it into words. I fell in love with her the second I heard her crying.” Fuck. She was so fuckin’ strong. I knew she didn’t think so. She’d always thought she was weak. She thought being shy meant she was fragile. She had no idea. When I looked at her, I saw nothing but fucking strength. “Will you…” I had to stop and clear my throat to get the words out, “can you tell me what happened?”

I didn’t want to make her relive it, and I knew anything she told me would stay inside me like a scar on my heart, but I needed to hear it. I needed to help her shoulder that burden. If she could unload even a bit of it onto me, I wanted to take it. And I needed any bit of information I could get if I wanted to find that fucker. With a deep breath, my Ash, my fucking warrior, told me everything. “When I left, I didn’t really know where to go,” she started. “I stayed in a couple motels, but I knew I couldn’t afford to do that forever. Then, Penelope called to check in on me.” Penelope. That fucking cousin of

hers. I’d hoped Ash wouldn’t have gone there. It was a lead I didn’t check into for a while, perhaps too long. Penelope was Indian’s sister’s daughter. Indian and his sister weren’t close, but he’d tried once or twice over the years to connect, I think mostly out of a desire to give Ash more family. The sister was a shitshow who married a drug-dealing bum. I wasn’t sure if the dick was Penelope’s dad or not. What I did know was the girl pulled the short straw when it came to adults who raised her. I knew that straw, I’d pulled a shit one by biology too, but I’d been lucky enough to have Gunner. Indian tried to be the same for Penelope, but he’d reached

out too late for her to be willing to take the hand he offered. When social media became a thing, Ash and Penelope reconnected, much to my and Indian’s displeasure. Ash insisted it wasn’t an issue. She knew Penelope was a mess, but she wanted to be friendly. She wanted to be there in case her cousin decided to stop screwing around and using. Indian and I wanted her to stay far the fuck away, but it was a battle we lost. Ash went on. “I didn’t tell her much, but I explained my need to get away from the club for a while. She told me I could go up to Seattle and stay with her. I figured it might buy me some time to

plan out what I was going to do, so I went.” I tried to keep my body from tensing to the point where she could feel it, but everything inside me felt coiled too tightly. I wasn’t sure I could handle what she was going to say. “I didn’t find out she was living with her boyfriend, Jackson, until I got there. Actually, I think it was his place, not hers. I don’t know. I didn’t meet him for the first day or two.” Her voice had gone removed, and I already knew what she wasn’t saying. “Penelope was using, I could tell. I was uncomfortable with it, but I only meant to be there a few days. “She was working as a bartender, so

she was gone at night until late. Her boyfriend came back when she was at work. He was high. I don’t know what he was using, but it was obvious he was on something. At first, he didn’t know who I was. I started to explain and he started saying I owed him. He said Penelope might let me stay just because I was family, but he wanted payment. I offered to pay, but he…” Ash started shaking and I gripped her to me with such forced that I feared I’d hurt her. She didn’t seem to mind, pushing into my hold just as hard. “He said he didn’t want my money. He had money. He wanted something else. I told him no, I told him I would

leave. I tried to get my things to go, but he…he grabbed me. And he…” Fuck. My jaw clenched to the point of pain, it took everything I had to loosen and comfort it. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe.” She nodded in a manic way, then went on, her voice trembling, “After, I hid in the bathroom. There was a little cabinet I moved in front of the door. I didn’t know if it would keep him out, but he didn’t even try. I heard him leave. I stayed in there anyway, terrified he was going to come back. “When Penelope got home, she started calling my name. I made sure she

was alone before I came out. I asked her to take me to the police station. I told her what he did and that I needed to press charges.” I didn’t like this. I didn’t fucking like where it was going. “She started screaming at me, saying I’d fucked her boyfriend. She hit me. Said I was a slut and was just trying to ruin his life. She told me if I went to the cops, she would tell them what a whore I was and say I told her I wanted to sleep with him. She said she’d make sure they knew I wanted it, that I started it and he was innocent.” I was going to find that motherfucker, and I was going to find that bitch cousin

of hers. I was going to make both of them fucking pay. “I…I ran,” Ash stuttered. “I was afraid to report it, so I just left town. I came back down here to Portland. I stayed in a shelter for a while. Then, I met my friend Jasmine’s mother. She volunteered at the shelter sometimes. She helped find me the job I had at the diner and she knew there was an apartment in Jasmine’s building available. She didn’t even know what happened to me, she just helped me because she’s a nice person.” She helped her because she probably saw the Ash I had in my arms at that

moment, the scared, broken girl. She didn’t have to know what happened. Seeing Ash like that made you want to protect her. “She’s sick. She’s got Parkinson’s. I worry about her all the time. She did so much for me. Her and Jasmine did so much for Emmy and me,” Ash went on in a hysterical way. I rubbed her back more, and promised her, “We’ll go see her. Soon. We can visit them both.” “That would be good,” Ash agreed. It would. She didn’t do it for me, but I owed them both a hell of a thank you. They took care of my girls. Ash didn’t say anymore, and I didn’t

speak for a while, either. I was too consumed by rage, by the burning desire to avenge her. I didn’t want to frighten her, but I was afraid I couldn’t keep the thirst for violence from my voice. It wasn’t until much later, when Ash was calm again and whispered she needed to go see to Emmy, that I said anything. And it was only after she said, “Thank you for listening,” in that sweet voice of hers. She wouldn’t look me in the eyes as she said it, but I heard the emotion behind those words, and it made the fucking fissure going through my heart worth it. It had hurt her, I knew, but I also knew, with that statement, she’d let

go of some of her pain and given it to me. I would suffer a thousand times more to do that for her. “I love you, Ashlynn. I would do anything for you. Never doubt that.”

I held myself together for five hours. It was sheer force of will keeping me from losing control. I had to be touching Ash nearly every minute just to maintain some semblance of sanity through it. Jager had watched Emmy for a while, then we took over to get her

dinner and hang out until it was time to get her into bed. Ash and I stayed up, watching TV in silence while our thoughts consumed us. I held her the whole time. It was only once she fell asleep around nine-thirty, obviously tired from the emotion of the day, that I left her side. I moved from her room, keeping quiet so she would sleep through it. Before I left, I did a quick check in Emmy’s room as well. She was snoring. The soft sound would have been cute enough to stand and listen to for a while if I weren’t about to explode. I got out of the hall where their rooms were before I started to blow. I

was passing the kitchen when it came over me. “I’m afraid of finding out her father is a rapist!” I snapped. My hand flew out, barreling through the drywall. It gave too fucking easily. “What the fuck?” I heard from within the kitchen, followed by movement from the living room. Wasn’t the first time someone had put a fist through the wall of a Disciples’ place, wouldn’t be the last. I didn’t wait around for the fucking questions. I shook the bits of drywall from my hands and kept walking. I couldn’t be inside. I was going to lose it,

and Ash and Emmy didn’t need to hear that shit. I got out the back door, slamming it behind me, and let out a roar. It was all I fucking had. I screamed at nothing until my voice gave out, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to break something. I needed to fucking hurt someone. “Chairs, by the wood line. The old wooden ones. They’re all in shit condition anyway,” Jager said from behind me. Good enough. I went across the yard and wasted no fucking time grabbing the first chair. I swung it out, connecting it with a large tree. It splintered apart, but didn’t totally

break. I hit it again, the cracking sound and force radiating up my arms from the blow immensely gratifying. Hit after hit, I kept on, until the first chair was in ruins. Then, I grabbed the next. I tried to focus on the breaking boards, the release when they gave to the force of my swing. It didn’t work. I could still see her tear-streaked face. I could still hear her tell me what he did. I could still feel the thirst for violence in my gut only his blood could quench. It went on and on, a never-resting torture punctuated by the violent sound of the carnage I was creating.

The shattered remains of another chair fell from my hands, nothing but a few inches of splintered wood, and I turned to grab another. There was only one left, and Jager had parked his ass in it. “Don’t want to fucking talk,” I warned, but not particularly worried. Jager wasn’t a talker. “Thought everything was copacetic,” Stone said from my other side. Fuck. Jager was just there as muscle. Fucker could take any of us down. He was there to restrain me if need be. I turned to Pres. “Said I don’t want to talk.”

“I got here, heard you two had a blow up, but you were sortin’ it out. Then you all pulled the little happy family routine for a while. Figured everything was alright.” Not going there. I turned back to Jager. “Out of the way, brother,” I ordered. “Got higher orders,” he replied, settling into the seat further. I wasn’t fooled. He could be on his feet and have me down in a heartbeat. “What the fuck’s going on?” Stone demanded. I didn’t answer. “Sketch.” It was a warning. “I can’t fucking talk about it,” I told

him. “It’s got you out here breaking shit while your girls are inside, you can fucking well tell your brothers.” “Sketch.” I swung around. Ash was walking our way, one of my long-sleeved shirts pulled over the tank and shorts she wore to bed. Her face looked pale, and I knew it was more than the moonlight doing it. Her eyes moved to the debris scattered at my feet, to my brothers on either side of me, over my body, and then to mine. “You weren’t in bed,” she said, her voice hushed. I didn’t answer. She seemed to know I wouldn’t. “Your hands are bleeding.”

I looked down. They were. I could see a couple splinters protruding from them. I didn’t feel it happening, I was too hopped up to even feel it then. She came closer, lifting one in her clean, soft hands to inspect. “We need to clean it,” she said, meeting my eyes again. “Doesn’t matter.” “What’re you doing out here?” she asked. “I can’t take it. I can’t take knowing you were hurt,” I told her, yet even as I said it, I felt some of the fight draining from me. It was her. She fucking centered me. She moved in closer, wrapping both

arms around my torso. I hesitated to hold her back, not wanting to get blood on her, but she was in my shirt. I’d throw the fuckin’ thing out. “What the fuck are you two talkin’ about?” Stone demanded in a dark voice. Ash leaned her head back, her eyes terrified as she looked up at me. I wanted to assure her I would make the two of them go away, but I couldn’t. “I have to tell them.” She answered with a frantic shake of her head. “Ash, baby, they’re family. And I need their help.” “Their help?” “I’m going to hunt that fucker down. Jager can hack anything, Stone’s got

connections. I need them and the brothers to find that fucker and make him pay.” “No. You don’t have to. We can move on.” I rested my forehead against hers. “I have to, Ash. If not for you, for me. I can’t let that asshole keep on living free with what he did.” “One of the two of you needs to start talking,” Stone ordered. “Give her a fucking minute,” I snapped. Ash wanted to bolt, I could see it. She was scared and knew I was hurting. She couldn’t deal. Her eyes closed and her head tipped down.

“I can’t talk you out of it, can I?” she questioned, her voice barely audible. “No, Firefly. Not on this. I swore to Indian I would protect you. I failed, but know I’m going to fuckin’ fix it.” “You didn’t—” I shushed her, then kissed the crown of her head. “You can’t change my mind on that, either. I have to do this.” Her weight leaned more into me, and she muttered, “Okay.” I hugged her to me, trying to be her strength as I looked to my brothers. “After Ash left when we lost Indian, she went to stay with her cousin.” Stone’s eyes got darker at that. He knew Penelope was no fucking good. “The

bitch was living with a guy at the time.” I had to stop. I wasn’t even fucking sure I could say the words. I tried, repeatedly. My mouth opened, but I couldn’t make it come out. “He raped me,” Ash finally said into the silence. My arms tightened and I buried my face in her neck. I couldn’t fucking take it. Stone started cursing. His voice was harsh and loud, and Ash flinched at the sound. “Stone,” I warned. He stopped and looked our way. Ash’s head turned toward him against my chest. “We’re going to find that

motherfucker,” he promised. “We’re going to find him and we’re going to make him fucking pay.” Ash nodded, and then her body jerked. I held on as the silent tremors became sobs. As I held her again while she cried, I swore I was going to make that bastard pay for every tear. Then, I was going to do everything in my fucking power to make sure she never shed another one. “I’m sorry,” she gasped out. There was a loud crack. Our heads swung to the left, where Jager was still seated in the chair. The arm was no longer attached, but held in his hand to the side. His muscles were tight and his

face showed fury. He tossed the wood aside and stood. “You are not sorry,” he told Ash. His voice was hard, but it was clearly not at her. “You don’t take this on.” Still shaking, she nodded at him. Jager’s angry eyes looked to me. “The cunt Penelope’s last name?” “Jenson.” “We got a name on the asshole?” “Jackson,” I answered. I’d never forget that fucking name. “Any more info?” “They were living in Seattle. Ash said it might have been his place.” I looked down at her, and asked, “Do you remember anything else? Anything you

can give us might help.” She didn’t meet my eyes when she said, “I think he might have been a dealer. And Penelope said something about him not going back down, so I think he might have been in prison before.” Jager nodded. “I’ll start with the cousin, go from there. I’ll find him.” He didn’t say anything else before he went inside. He was going right to work. I felt a sick sense of satisfaction. The fucker didn’t stand a chance. Jager was a fucking genius, and he was pissed. He would definitely find him. After a minute, Stone said, “You should get her inside.” Ash was calmer

now, but her body was starting to shake from the chill. His words seemed to stir her and she moved away from my hold. Without saying anything, she went to Stone and hugged him. He was close to breaking. I could see it. I needed to get us both out of the way so he could do that in peace. “Come on, Firefly. Back to bed.” She came back to me, nudging her way into my side. “You gonna be okay?” I asked Pres. “You left me one chair. Not enough, but it’ll help,” he gave as a non-answer. I knew how he felt. I wasn’t fucking okay. I wasn’t going to be okay until I put that monster in the ground.

For the moment, though, I had another purpose. My woman needed to get back inside and get some rest. She’d been through enough.

The next day, I woke up alone again. I was surprised. Sketch always slept later than I did. There was no warmth left on his side of the bed, so he’d been gone a while. I flipped over and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. Seeing the time had

me flying out of bed. It was half past ten. Emmy never slept that late. Even last time she was sick, she was still up before nine. With swift motions, I pulled on clothes—something Sketch had not let me do before we went to sleep—and rushed out of my room. Emmy’s door was open, no Emmy inside. I found her in the kitchen with Sketch, both of them looking down into a big bowl. “That doesn’t look right,” Sketch said. “It looks icky,” Emmy agreed. “What are you two doing?” I asked. They both looked my way. Emmy smiled and said good morning, Sketch

gave me an entirely different look. It was worried. I didn’t want his worry. What had happened was long over and it was out in the open between us—and soon the rest of the Disciples, which I was trying not to think about. It was time to move forward. Getting close to the two of them, I kissed Emmy’s head and hesitated over what to do with Sketch. He didn’t hesitate in the slightest. He grabbed my neck and brought me in close for a kiss. Emmy had never seen me kiss a man. Even in the weeks we had been sleeping together, Sketch and I had never made that kind of move in front of her. He was around us both more, sure, but there was

no touching and kissing. Well, I hadn’t touched him and we hadn’t kissed. He touched me plenty, trying to make his point. Still, it wasn’t the sort of thing Emmy would notice or understand. He pulled back and looked into my eyes before releasing me. He was checking on me, trying to gauge how I was doing, looking for some shift for the worst. It was sweet, but unnecessary. When he saw I was okay, he gave me a smile that made my knees shake. “Warrior,” he whispered before letting me go. Surprisingly, Emmy had no reaction to the kiss at all. She just lifted a whisk caked in some unknown concoction from

the bowl, and said again, “Icky.” “What is that?” I asked. “Pancake batter,” Sketch answered. “That is most definitely not pancake batter.” I took the bowl and whisk from Emmy, attempting to stir it. The poor whisk could barely make it through the slop in the bowl. It was way too lumpy, and the color wasn’t right. I met Sketch’s eyes and lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t know what happened. I followed the directions on the box.” Shaking my head, I took the bowl to the sink. “You figure out how to get that mess out,” I told him. “I don’t even know how to fix that. I’ll start from

scratch.” I shelved away the box of pancake mix, because I never used the stuff and worried it might have been part of the problem. Instead, I got the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt from the cabinets, and butter, milk and eggs from the fridge. With everything laid out on the counter, I got to work making my man and daughter breakfast. It was normal, and it was so perfect.

That night, once Emmy was down for the count, Sketch met me in the hall and grabbed my hand. Without a word, he

led me to the bathroom Emmy and I used. In it, he’d drawn a bath in the big tub. “Thought you could use a chance to relax,” he explained. I melted. It felt silly, but it was sweet that he set that up for me. “Thank you,” I whispered. “You can thank me buy getting naked and letting me get in with you.” Well, I could do that. When we were both naked, a process that took a while because Sketch had wandering hands and no ability to focus, he climbed in first. I got in more slowly. The hot water was jarring at first, but I knew it would feel incredible once I

settled in. As I sat, Sketch pulled me to land between his spread legs, my back against his front. He was hard, and he worked his hips against me until his cock was nestled between the cheeks of my ass. I felt myself heat up in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature, but neither of us took it any further. For a while, we just relaxed. It was as comfortable and calm as I could remember being in years. “Sketch?” I eventually asked. “Right here, Firefly.” He was. He so was. “What did you mean when you said Dad got the club into the situation with Barton?”

He sighed, then wrapped his arms tighter around me. When he didn’t answer, I started to say, “I just—” “No,” he cut in. “You deserve to know. I just know it isn’t going to be all that easy to hear.” I didn’t say anything. Anything to do with losing my dad was going to be hard to hear, but I needed to understand. “Indian lied to you, baby,” he started, and I was shocked. “Despite what he told you, he always knew where your mom was. She just wasn’t fit to be around you.” “What?” “Your mom was into drugs. Heavily,

for years. She stayed clean while she was pregnant with you, and for a while after. But by the time you were one, she was off the wagon. He tried for years to get her clean. He paid for her to go to one great rehab program after another. Most of the times he would go out of town for a few days when we were kids had nothing to do with club business. The club always tried to keep him home as much as possible for you. When he left, he was usually trying to find her after she started using again and was on a bender. “He kept trying to get her to stay clean so she could become part of your life. He wanted that for you. Apparently,

he decided he wouldn’t open that door until she was out of rehab and clean for two years. She never made it that long.” I’d never known my mother. I’d never even seen a picture of her. I had some of Dad’s features, but I’d known for a long time I must largely resemble her, but that was everything I knew. I couldn’t say I was surprised she was an addict, mostly because I had no frame of reference in which to place that knowledge. Until Sketch told me that, she could have been anything. What I was having trouble processing was everything Dad had done. I couldn’t believe he tried for so long. I knew he would do anything for

me, but the time and money he’d put into getting a woman clean was insane. She may have been my mother by blood, but she was also a stranger. Had he thought he alone wasn’t enough for all those years? God, I hoped not. Dad had been an amazing parent, that was why it hurt so much to lose him. “I’ve gotten all this information second-hand only recently,” Sketch went on, “so I don’t know a lot of details. But, when you were sixteen or seventeen-ish, he lost track of her for a while. When he found her, she was connected to Barton.” Something about the way he said that was odd. “Connected?” “She was turning tricks. Became a

part of his stable.” Holy crap. “She was a prostitute?” “Yeah, baby. Indian would give her money from time to time if she was struggling, but only if she was clean. He even had Doc do a couple drug tests to be sure. He wasn’t going to support her habit. Eventually, she needed a way to finance it. By that time, Barton was her supplier. He offered her a way to get as much of that shit as she wanted.” I was starting to think I didn’t want him to keep going, but I knew this was something I needed to understand. “No one really knows why. A couple of the guys think he might have had real feelings for her, either before she got

pregnant with you or maybe they developed over the years. I don’t know. But he flipped out when he found out what Barton had her doing. He tried to buy her out of her debt, but it was crazy by that time. And anyway, Barton liked her. Apparently, she was a looker, so she was popular for his customers. Rumor was she was popular with him, too. He was the kind of man who took freebies from his girls, offered or not.” The thought of that, of what she might have gone through, made me sick. She had an illness and it drove her into the darkest parts of the world. “When Barton wouldn’t let her go, Indian got the club involved. The

Disciples had been keeping an eye on Barton. He was selling close to Hoffman and you know we shut that shit down. His dealers were getting too close to our turf, so they were already poised to strike. If Indian had beef, they were going to back him. “It started out with just trying to cause an annoyance—rough up dealers, stalk them and get them popped by the cops, interfere with transports. I think Indian was hoping Barton would offer your mom in payment to get them to stop. Barton, though…that fucker is sick. Instead of offering deals or making threats, he killed her.” My heart stopped.

“He…he…what?” I stuttered. “I’m sorry, baby. He killed her. I hate to say it, but she didn’t go easy, either. I don’t want to tell you those details. I don’t think you need that in your head—” “No. I need to know,” “Ash,” he urged. I turned in the tub to face him. “Please, Gabe.” His eyes got dark, like storm clouds consuming the sky. He pulled me to him so I was straddling his lap. “Barton locked her up, waited until the withdrawal symptoms started. Only then did he set his goons loose on her.” I felt the bile in my throat. “You mean…”

“Yeah, babe. They took her. Don’t know how many or for how long, all the while her body was shutting down from the drugs leaving her system so suddenly. She died during it.” I could read the horrible reality behind his words. They’d raped her until she died, and they probably didn’t even realize she was gone right away. Sketch kept going, like he knew I needed it to be over. “Barton sent a picture of her afterward to the club, addressed to Indian. It had a note describing all of it to him. That was what really broke him. He wanted Barton dead, but he wanted to make the fucker watch as his little empire was

dismantled first. “Indian was out for blood. The club was picking apart the foot soldiers and he was personally meeting with powerful people that were supporting Barton to get them to pull back. I don’t know how he did it, he managed to pull a lot of them, but Barton didn’t want to go down.” I knew we were there, but I wasn’t ready. Hearing what had happened to my mother had me too weak to take it. “Barton knew it was Indian leading the club to go after him. He order hits on him, but no one could ever finish the job. Then, Barton took it into his own hands. Indian got a threat, one he couldn’t

ignore.” “What?” I asked, my voice trembling and hoarse. “He threatened you. Said he’d get a hold of you, use you to replace your mother…” Sketch trailed off and then cursed. “I can’t, Ash. I can’t fucking talk about that shit. I can’t think about that fucker threatening you. Then or now.” “It’s okay,” I told him, unsure if anything really was. He pushed on. “Indian, he lost it. He went after Barton himself, but the fucker set him up. Managed to leak fake info about a meet Barton had. When Indian got there, Barton was waiting for him.” I lifted a trembling hand to make him

stop. I couldn’t hear any more. I knew the rest. Dad took five rounds to the chest. He was dead before they fired the final shot, execution style. It all broke out of me. I’d held it together the entire time Sketch was talking, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I sobbed, huge, choking sobs. I cried for my mom, for how sick she was and for the horrible things that had happened to her. But mostly, I cried for my dad. He’d done it all, all the fighting to get mom clean, the money, hours, and worry. He’d gone to war with Barton because of it. He died because they threatened me. I cried because he hadn’t deserved that life. I cried because I didn’t deserve

to lose him. I cried for so long, the tears went dry and all that was left were the empty sobs coming from my aching lungs. All the time, Sketch held me close. He was my anchor, like he’d been when I first lost Dad. Without him, I couldn’t have done it.

The chair went flying into the wall. Pictures hanging around the room rattled, a couple near the point of impact fell, frames and glass clattering and cracking. A roar of fury rose above the small sounds and shuffling as brothers got to their feet.

I didn’t move. Roadrunner was out of his mind. I knew the feeling. I would never forget it. Every man in the room could try to restrain him, wouldn’t do a fuckin’ thing. The kind of wrath he was letting loose couldn’t be contained. He had to let that shit out or it would kill him. When the amount of destruction he could unleash in the small space ran its course, he turned to me. “Tell me we got something we can find this fucker with,” he demanded. “Got some. First name. Used to be in Seattle. The fact that he was living with the bitch. And possible prison stint,” I explained in a voice a fuck of a lot more

calm than I felt. We were having church. All the brothers were at a big oak table in the room we used for those private meetings. Pres was at the head, sitting in front of a mural of the Savage Disciples’ patch. He hadn’t jumped to his feet to try to restrain Roadrunner, either. It was a few days after I’d given Ash the truth about Indian and Barton. Stone had tried to call the meet sooner, but Ash had been struggling with the knowledge of what had happened to both her parents. I wasn’t willing to leave her through that. I’d only relented because she started to seem better and this shit needed sorting immediately.

My stomach was still turning from having to tell the brothers about what had happened to Ash. I didn’t give them the whole story like she did with me, but I gave them what they needed. Finding that fucker Jackson just became a top priority for every man in that room. It fucking killed me to share, but I needed them. Roadrunner spun Jager’s way. “You on that?” “Been eating and breathing that shit for the last two days,” Jager confirmed. “I’ll keep fuckin’ living it until we get him.” Roadrunner, appeased, though no less ready to kill, moved back toward his

spot at the table. A chair was passed his way from the back of the room seeing as his wasn’t fit for sitting anymore. Everyone sat back down, but there was no settling the room. The Disciples were out for blood. I kept my eyes on Roadrunner. I knew he’d be the most affected by the news. “When we get him, it’s your deal. Give you that, ‘cause she’s your woman. But I’m asking for a turn at him. For Indian.” Jackson was mine. No fucking way I’d give on that, and I was glad he wasn’t pushing for it. I wanted the asshole to myself, but Roadrunner, most of all, had helped raise Ash. Indian was

like blood to him and Ash was his goddaughter. I wanted to be selfish, but I could give my brother that. “It’s yours.” He didn’t say anything else on it, just gave me a nod and turned back to the room at large. Stone took back command. “You get anything yet, Jager?” “Full name’s Jackson Dewitt. Did a nickel inside for possession—meth— was out about three years at the time. Haven’t been able to get in touch yet with anyone who might know, but my guess is he was dealing and probably still is. Lots of shit comes up on his record, mostly drug related, a couple fights, one domestic call that never

became a formal charge. Found the apartment, which was in his name, but they were evicted. Called the landlord, said he didn’t have a forwarding address. Told me he nixed them because they were causin’ problems—parties, noise complaints, unsavory characters coming and going, rent payments were late. “Followed the paper trail for the cousin, too. She went down herself for assault, one year. Been out for about that. Managed to find her address, still in Seattle. At least, it’s what she’s got on file with her probation officer. From what I can tell, he never actually followed up, so there’s a chance it’s

fake. I’m thinking that’s unlikely, though. Bitch doesn’t strike me as bright and she doesn’t know she’s got reason to hide. Couldn’t find an address for Jackson. He’s probably shacked up with her or some other chick. Tried to get the landlord for her place, but seems he’s not the efficient callback kind.” Two days, and he had all that. Fucker was a master. “Good. We’ve got a start, then,” Stone said. “I don’t want to waste time on this. I want that asshole out back in the shed two fuckin’ days ago. Someone’s headin’ up there to check out the address. See if we can nail Jackson there, grab the bitch, either way. We

don’t get a whiff of him, we’ll see what we can get out of her.” He looked my way. “This is your gig, brother. You want the say on who rides with you, you’ve got it.” “Not ridin’,” I told him, surprising a few. “Ash isn’t dealing well with this shit coming back up and even less with the knowledge I had to drop on her about what happened to Indian. I’ve got her and a daughter here to focus on, particularly with the rest of the crap we still got swirling.” “Fair enough,” Stone answered. “I’ll ride,” Roadrunner volunteered. Not surprising. “I’m in,” Slick added. “Be there to

get us in without signs of entry if we need to sit on it.” Slick’s dad was a locksmith, taught him the trade. There wasn’t a thing he couldn’t get in or out of with the right equipment. “Me,” Jager put in. “Done,” Stone finished. I threw nods to each of the brothers. They knew what their task meant to me. Slick had a pregnant wife and a kid at home. Volunteering to ride out told me he knew exactly what I was feeling. “As if this wasn’t all fucked enough,” Stone went on, “we still gotta talk about Barton.” Tank spoke up then. “Got another envelope.” He threw a thin stack of

papers down on the table, nodding from me to them. Another picture of Ash, same as the first set we got, which I’d finally seen. If I weren’t mistaken, it was one of the original images. Definitely her walking to work in uniform, so it wasn’t recent. I flipped through the next couple shots: each of the club’s garages, one that looked to be Gauge and Ham’s backs as they rode through town, and then another of Ash. The final image was the same one from the first mailing, the one where she was looking in the direction of the camera. This time, there was a different message scrawled on it. Don’t get used to having her

around. Fuck that. I threw the pile down. “We’ve gotta shut this shit down.” Tank responded, “Got word from the Bastards, their intel says Barton met with the Italians. Looks like he’s scrambling. He wouldn’t even risk that shit if he could avoid it. His soldiers are defecting. Officer Andrews says he’s got two in custody, one started singing. Bastard is desperate. He hasn’t got much protection, but that makes him fuckin’ risky.” “You think he’ll go kamikaze instead of disappearing?” Gauge asked. “With that fucker, we can’t be sure,”

Stone said. “Light lockdown, starting now. The women don’t go out unprotected.” He looked to Gauge and Slick. “I’d encourage you both to move your families here or to the farmhouse. More bodies on sight to keep everyone safe. Your call.” Both men gave chin lifts, acknowledging the offer. My guess, they’d be convincing their women to do it. I would if Ash and I lived somewhere else. “Until this shit blows over, everyone is carrying at all times. I’m not letting anyone get hurt because we underestimate the risk. Everyone’s armed, even in houses.”

I was going to have to do the gun talk with Emmy. She was young, so she wouldn’t understand the full scope of what guns could do, but she needed to understand they were off limits. None of the brothers were stupid enough to leave them out and they knew how to use the safety, but it wasn’t the sort of shit I was taking any risks with. “Alright, we’re done here,” Stone announced. He banged his old, worn gavel against the table before putting it back on its shelf on the wall. The brothers started moving around. A couple got to picking up the fallen pictures. I waited, because I knew what was coming.

Roadrunner came my way. I stood, but let him approach. “Is she okay?” “It’s tough for her, this coming back up and now knowing all the brothers will know. She’s strong, though. Getting through it.” “Don’t want you to get offended when I say this, ‘cause I know you’ll do it, but it’s my job with Indian gone,” he said. “Take care of her.” I wouldn’t get offended by that. Anyone else told me to take care of Ash, as if I weren’t doing that already, I’d be pissed. Roadrunner didn’t need to explain, I knew he felt that way. “I always will,” I swore.

He didn’t say anything else. I knew he was still struggling to keep it together. If it were anyone else, I’d feel sorry for Jackson. Roadrunner was on a warpath and nothing was going to stop the man. Since it was Jackson he was after, I felt like grinning for the first time in days. That asshole was as good as mine.

Ash was sitting beside me on the couch, her legs up and across my lap. We were still at the clubhouse, hanging out with Gauge, Cami, Slick, Deni, and Ham. The girls had been hanging out while we’d been in church. Slick and

Gauge were no more into the idea of leaving their women or kids at home than I’d been. When the meet was over, I went right to Ash. It was going to be uncomfortable for her, the guys all knowing what had happened, and I was ready to get her and Emmy out of there if she needed it. She’d decided we should stick around and I wasn’t sure whether I should have been surprised or not. My warrior. We’d hung around with everyone for a few hours at that point, calling out for pizza, which Emmy was thrilled about. We were all in the main room while Levi, Cami and Gauge’s son, and Jules, Slick and Deni’s little girl, were both

asleep in one of the bedrooms. Emmy was on the ground, drawing. Luckily, I had some colored pencils stashed in my room at the clubhouse. Sure, they were actual art supplies, not a kid’s box, but I didn’t give a fuck. My princess liked to color, she could use anything of mine she wanted. If she broke them, I’d get more. “You okay, Deni?” Cami asked. We all looked over to see Deni looking uneasy and Slick rubbing her back. “Morning sickness,” she explained. “It’s not bad, just a little queasy.” “It’s seven o’clock at night,” Ham pointed out. “Morning sickness is a bad name. It

comes when it wants,” Deni explained. Ash spoke from next to me. “Yeah. When I was carrying Emmy, I got it twice a day, like clockwork.” “Really?” Deni asked. “That sucks.” Ash nodded. “Yeah, and it went way past the third month. I got it for most of my pregnancy. Every day, once first thing in the morning, again in the afternoon. It wasn’t so bad, though. I was working, so it was nice that it was at least regular. I got through it before work, then took a break when it came back.” She shrugged like it was no big deal. I didn’t feel like it was no big deal. Ash had been sick nearly the entire time she was carrying Emmy, and worse,

she’d had to work through that. Not wanting to have the conversation with everyone around, but not being able to sit on it, I asked, “You worked the whole time?” She looked embarrassed, and I hated that even more. “Well, I only got so much time off and I really needed to put money away before Emmy arrived. I wanted to have as long as possible with her after she was born.” My arm went around her hips, yanking her closer, nearly sitting her in my lap. I leaned closer to her to edge the rest of the room out. “Next time, I’ll take care of you. You worked so hard for

Emmy, and that makes you a fucking amazing mom. Next baby, I’ll take care of you both.” She moved into me, laying her head on my shoulder. I settled back into the couch, feeling better. Dwelling on the past wasn’t going to do us any good. Ash was incredible. The way she sacrificed for Emmy was beautiful, even if it fucking hurt. In the future, I’d make it better. I noticed Cami and Deni were throwing approving looks my way, but chose to ignore that. I only needed one woman’s approval…well, one woman and one little girl. Speaking of, Emmy was headed our

way. She climbed up onto the couch next to me and leaned in close. “Daddy, I forgot what door was the potty,” she tried to whisper, but it was loud enough for the whole room to hear. Ash’s body locked up against me. I pointed to a door across the room. “That one, princess.” “Okay.” She smacked a kiss on my chin and ran off to the door. Once it closed behind her, Ash whispered, “Daddy?” Admittedly, I’d planned to wait on that. I hadn’t expected Emmy to use it again so soon, particularly in front of Ash. I couldn’t care that she did, though. Ash and I were together again, moving

forward. Emmy was going to call me daddy at some point, I was fucking thrilled she was ready and rearing to do it already. “I am,” I told Ash, like it was nothing. “Did you tell her to call you that?” Not in so many words, but I hadn’t discouraged it either. “No.” “Has she said it before?” “Once. She asked if I was going to be her daddy because she wanted me to,” I explained. Her eyes got big and she was blinking fast, trying not to cry. I expected her to say it was too soon, that we should stop Emmy from saying it. I

expected this to turn into a discussion we’d have to have later without an audience because she’d get worked up. What I got was, “You sure know how to charm Thomas girls, huh?” Fuck. Yes. It was a deflection, but one she used to avoid admitting she loved that our daughter was calling me daddy. “Doesn’t matter, you’ll both be Davies girls soon. But I’ll try to keep charming you.” She gave a little smile and I kissed it off her lips. Oh yeah, I’d fucking won.

“Emmy, this is Doc,” I introduced my girl to the oldest standing Disciple. “Hello, doll face,” Doc greeted her. Emmy took him in, then said in a very serious voice, “You look like Santa.” I barked out a laugh. Oh man, that was brilliant. Anyone else said that to

Doc, they’d learn a lesson. Emmy said that to him and she got a grin beneath the scraggly beard that was getting more white all the time. “And you’ve got a dwarf name,” Emmy went on. Doc and I were both laughing then, causing Emmy to giggle. “Does that make you Snow White?” he asked. “Yes,” she agreed. “Then who does that make me?” “Dopey!” Damn. “That’s cold, sweetie.” I set her down on the couch with a game I’d downloaded on my phone and motioned with my head for Doc to step into the other room with me.

“You get what you need?” I asked. “Yeah,” he answered. “I think I know why this is necessary, but I’m wondering why you couldn’t go in and do this?” “Ash doesn’t want to have her tested. She’d rather not know. I can’t really get Emmy there and back without Ash finding out, or without Emmy telling her about it after,” I explained. “Then I gotta ask, you think maybe you oughta not do it?” I had thought that. I thought I’d just let it lie, and then I thought I shouldn’t. I’d gone to bed next to Ash every night and woke up with her every morning to get Emmy out of bed. I’d spent the time I could with them when club business and

work didn’t take me away. Since the night I’d dropped the argument about paternity testing, I’d rethought it more times than I could count. Then, I’d seen Ash’s face when she heard Emmy call me daddy. There was something subtle in it I didn’t understand until hours later. We were in bed, nearly asleep. Emmy had been fussy getting to bed and Ash was worried. So, as much as I wanted to get her naked and pleading for me, we’d kept the clothes on. It was a good call, the kind a good mom like Ash would make. A few hours later, the door creaked open.

Both of us sat up. Emmy was coming in, her lower lip plumped out and quivering, her skin looking pale and her arms crossed over her stomach. I was on my feet in a second, but Ash was already at her. “Tummy hurts,” Emmy had muttered. Like some kind of fucking superhero, Ash scooped her up and got down the hall to the bathroom. I followed after them. Ash barely got her there before Emmy was sick. I’d gone through a lot of shit over the years, been in fights I lost, but that shit didn’t hold a candle to watching my little girl get sick. She started crying, and I swear to God, I would have killed to make it stop.

Once it was over, Ash cleaned Emmy up and brought her back to the room. I got everything set in case my princess was sick again, then tucked them both in. My plan was to leave them, even though it destroyed me. Before I could, Emmy reached her little arms out. “No, Daddy. Need you.” Christ. There was no fucking way I could deny her that. I lay down, pulling both my girls into my arms. Emmy snuggled into my chest, but didn’t move out of her mother’s hold. “Love you, Mommy. Love you, Daddy,” she’d said in a small voice as she fell asleep.

That’s when I saw it. In the light drifting from the closet we left on for Emmy, who was afraid of the dark, I saw longing in Ash’s eyes, the kind of longing I knew. It was the longing you felt when you were sure you’d never get what you wanted. I felt like that for four and a half years. Seeing that expression gave me the answer I had been looking for. So, I called Doc and set it up. “Ash needs this,” I explained to Doc. “She can say whatever she wants, but she isn’t really accepting Emmy is mine. She isn’t letting this go. She wants so badly for Emmy to be my daughter, but she’s caught up in this idea that it’s about

the DNA.” “What if you don’t find out what you want to?” he asked. “I won’t tell her. I don’t give a fuck what that test says. Emmy’s mine, either way. If it were about me, we wouldn’t be doing it. This is about seeing if I can help her. I want her to be able to move on. Maybe she can do that without knowing, but I think part of her will always struggle if she has this doubt.” Doc measured me, the way he always did. “You really sure you can live with that knowledge?” At the surface, no, I wasn’t sure. I wanted to find out Emmy was mine. A few weeks ago, the first night Ash was

back, I might not have been able to deal with it. Now, I knew Emmy. I loved her. She was my daughter and nothing could change that. “Yes. I’m sure.” “Alright then,” he said. He turned his back to me, snapping on gloves and getting out what he needed. Doc was an actual doctor. Well, he had been. No one knew the story of what took him away from the practice. He didn’t talk about that shit. Didn’t talk about himself much at all. What we all did know was his medical knowledge made him a fucking blessing. He could patch us up, and he could literally

dismantle a human being. He came back to me. “Test is simple. Gotta swab the inside of your cheek, then Emmy’s. I can’t do the actual test here. Don’t have the lab. Friend of mine is gonna run it so we don’t have to deal with the turnaround time on a lab meant just for running these tests. Also eliminates a paper trail if this doesn’t turn out well. No records. Your names won’t even be attached.” “Good.” I had no idea how the information could get back to Ash, but I wanted to avoid that at all costs. “Open up,” Doc instructed, then ran the swab inside my cheek. He put the

swab into a vial with some liquid in it. “That’s it, just need to do the same to the little one.” We got Emmy swabbed, which she did without any question. I wasn’t surprised, but I was glad. If she’d been more curious, she might have said something to Ash. I didn’t need that, at least not for a few days, until I could get the results back. I was planning to get us out of there and head back to the farmhouse when Stone stopped me. “Sketch, need a minute.” He knelt down to accept the hug Emmy was reaching her arms up for. “How you doin’, honey?”

“I’m good. I get to be with Daddy today,” she replied. “Oh, yeah? Where’s your mom?” “At home,” I supplied. “Someone got sick last night and Ash didn’t sleep well worrying. I made her take it easy, brought Emmy with me.” Stone looked away from me the second the word “sick” left my mouth. “You not feelin’ well, little one?” Her head tilted, her curls spilling to the side. “I had tummy trouble.” “You’re okay now, though, right, baby?” I asked. “All better,” she agreed. “Good,” Stone said. “Can you hang out for just another

minute, princess?” I asked Emmy. Her hand came up right away. “Game?” At some point, I was going to stop being such a pushover with her. “What do you say?” She brought out that damn pout in retaliation. “Pease?” She was messing with me. I didn’t care. Fuck it, her mom could be the one who laid down the law. I handed over my phone. Stone and I stepped a few feet away before he spoke fast in a low voice. “Roadrunner checked in. No sign of Jackson or Penelope at the address. They sat on it for a day, then got in. No

one’s there. Definitely Penelope’s place, though. Mail and shit all addressed to her, food recently restocked. They’re keeping eyes on it now while Jager tries to get more intel. He just managed to get into her accounts from the info he found in the apartment. That’s why he called to update. She does anything on credit or debit, he’ll know and be able to get her.” “Any sign Jackson’s been there?” I asked. “Men’s clothes and shit around, but nothing they could find with his identification. Could be him, could be she’s got another guy shackin’ up there. Jager’s still researching Jackson to see if he can catch a break. Most likely,

getting a hold of the bitch will have to be step one.” I hated the fucking waiting game. Jackson was a ghost if Jager couldn’t find him. If he wasn’t the one staying with Ash’s bitch cousin, I was starting to worry we wouldn’t find him. “Alright, brother. Thanks for updating me. Just keep me posted when they find that bitch.” “You’ve got it,” Stone promised. “Emmy and I are gonna roll out,” I said as a goodbye. While I carried her to the car, Emmy kept her attention on the game she was playing. The couple times I checked, I was pretty sure she just kept dying and

popping back up. I chuckled. She had no clue what she was doing. As I was getting her in her car seat, my phone started ringing in her hand. She reached out with it, saying, “It’s for you.” “You going to be my secretary now?” I asked, but she had no idea what I was talking about. Shaking my head, I answered the call. “Hello?” “Hi, honey,” Ash’s sweet voice came through the line. “Hey, Firefly.” “Where are you guys?” “At the clubhouse. I’m just getting Emmy into her seat so we can head back to you.”

“Is she doing alright still?” Worry colored her tone. “She’s just fine,” I said. I turned the phone toward Emmy. “Say hi to Mommy, princess.” “Hi, Momma!” she yelled. When I returned the phone to my ear and shut Emmy in the truck, I heard Ash laughing. “Love that sound, babe.” She changed the subject rather than answering that, like always. “Well, I just wanted to check in with you two. I just got out of the shower and wasn’t sure when you’d be back.” I stopped before I opened the driver’s door. “You took a shower without me?”

“Yes, Sketch. I usually do.” “You shouldn’t. I’m a good shower buddy, and it’s important for the environment and shit.” “The environment and shit?” she teased. “A shower with you won’t save any water. It’ll take three times as long.” “Hey, I just like to be very thorough. You can’t fault me for wanting to get you very clean.” Fuck, I was starting to get hard thinking very dirty thoughts about cleaning her off. “Only after you get me dirty.” Yeah, that was too much. I was rock hard. Ash didn’t talk like that often, and it was enough to shatter my restraint.

“Tonight,” I warned, “you’re going to pay for getting me hard when I’m about to get in the car with our girl.” Ash let out a muffled gasp and I could picture her biting her pink lips. That image was not helping. I needed to get off the damn phone before I lost control of myself. “We’ll be home soon. You and I will discuss your payback later.” “Okay,” she replied, breathy. I took several deep breaths after we hung up, trying to get my hard-on under control before I got in the car. Once I got it to start going down at all, I climbed in. “Alright, princess. Let’s get home to Mom.”

“Momma!” At least I wasn’t the only one excited.

“I told you I’d be back,” I said, placing another bundle of flowers down on Dad’s grave. “I’m sorry. I didn’t bring Emmy this time. Deni is watching her. I want to wait so we can have Gabe with us, but he couldn’t today. I’m not sure she can comprehend this yet. It’ll be

good for both of us to have him around.” I glanced over at Ace, my guard. He got stuck with me a lot. I guess just because he lived in the farmhouse with us. He was around, so he got the job. “Things have changed a lot. Emmy calls Gabe daddy now. He’s so good with her. He loves her. He loves both of us,” I laughed. “I don’t know how we got so far from where we were last time I visited. “This is where I’m supposed to be. I get it now. Gabe got it the whole time. You always said I thought about things too much and let my head get in the way. You were right. You were always right.” A harsh whistle interrupted my train

of thought. I swung my head Ace’s way to see him pointing down and making a shushing motion. He reached behind him, pulling out a gun, I was sure. He moved, swift and careful, toward a wooded area at the edge of the cemetery. I couldn’t see anyone in the direction he was heading, but I didn’t take chances. Doing as he’d said, I ducked and moved around behind the tree next to Dad’s grave. It was probably just Ace being overprotective. Still, he thought there was something wrong. Was that reason to call for backup? I didn’t know. I couldn’t exactly ask Ace either. I debated on it for longer than a situation where a gun being pulled probably warranted before

I got my phone. I doubted the Disciples would mind if I was extra cautious. I dialed Sketch first, but he didn’t answer. He hadn’t told me that morning what he was doing. He said he had work to do, but not whether that was club work or if he had a tattoo appointment. I tried a second time, just in case he hadn’t heard it, then dialed Stone. When he didn’t answer either, I left a message. “Um…hi.” Hi? God, I needed to get it together. “Ace brought me to the cemetery to visit Dad’s grave. He just signaled me to get down and started heading off. He was taking out his gun. I don’t know—”

A hand wrapped around my wrist, yanking the phone away from my ear. It squeezed until the pain forced me to release my hold. A sharp tug had me facing an older man I’d never seen before. He looked disheveled, though not in a prominent way. His hair was out of place, but the gelled texture said it had been styled. Beneath his unbuttoned suit jacket, his shirt was partially untucked, yet he looked very much like the type of man who did not usually look that way. More terrifying, there was a crazed look shining through an otherwise collected expression. He smiled at me in a way that made my skin crawl. “Well, hello there. I think

it’s time we met. You look so much like your whore mother.” Barton. Crap. I looked for the phone, but it was in his other hand. He noticed my eyes move to it. “Oh, looking for this? It really is a shame you sent that message, Ashlynn. I would prefer not to be interrupted. Now, my associate will have to dispatch with your guard in a hurry so we can depart before your company comes.” Ace. Oh, god. I really hoped he was okay. Barton threw my phone to the ground, producing a gun from within his suit

jacket and firing a single round into the screen. I jumped back, and he turned the barrel on me. “Now, dear, I sincerely hope you don’t have illusions of doing anything foolish. If you run, I will shoot. I won’t hesitate.” He was serious, it was obvious from the way he spoke the warning, like he was informing me of a simple fact rather than threatening my life. Even had I not known what he did to my mother, I would have taken his words to heart. There was a disturbing sort of clarity that settled in when a man like Barton turned a gun on you—a man deranged and unfeeling enough to pull the trigger

without thinking twice. I became extremely aware of everything. There was no shake to Barton’s hand, no likelihood that attempting to run would work. He wasn’t a panicky would-be killer who would miss a moving target. I also became aware of a minute quality to his presence that made him seem unsteady. Something about him reminded me of the adage “still waters run deep”. With the exception of the slight flaws to his appearance, nothing visibly gave me that impression. Still, I knew it to be true. Whatever he was showing me, there was something entirely unsettled at the heart of him. Stone had told me his infrastructure was

crumbling and he was becoming desperate. I wondered if that was what I was seeing. Finally, I was aware that I could not pick out any sound that might be Ace. I was terrified Barton’s man had hurt him —or worse. I needed to find a way to buy myself time. I didn’t know where Stone was, or when he’d check his phone. Hopefully, it would be soon. I’d managed to tell him where I was. I needed to keep myself there until the Disciples could make it. “Won’t you shoot me either way?” I asked. I had no idea whether it was the right question. I barely knew the right thing to say when my life wasn’t on the

line. In that moment, I’d take anything my brain spit out. “It had been my thought,” Barton explained. “Now that I’m seeing you, I’m rethinking my position.” He stepped in close, his gun pressing right against my stomach. I could smell his cologne, and it made me gag. His free hand went down my arm, purposely touching the side of my breast. “I had to dispose of your mother before I had my fill. Perhaps, now I’ll get another chance.” Oh, god. No. I’d rather die. “I imagine you’ll be even more pleasing than she was.” Unable to contain it, my mind

flashing back to that horrible night when Jackson forced himself on me, I retched violently. Barton flew backward several steps. “I swear to you, bitch, if you throw up on me, I will make you fucking pay.” If I didn’t stop it, he was going to make me pay either way. “Why are you doing this?” “Retribution, darling,” he answered. “Retribution on those filthy fucking bikers who thought they could come after me without consequences. I thought they would learn when I put that bastard father of yours in the ground,” he gestured with the gun toward Dad’s grave, “but it seems they were more

dense than I believed. Perhaps they’ll finally understand when I deliver you back to them, piece by piece.” “They won’t let you take me. They’re probably already on their way.” He raised the gun until it was level with my forehead. “Shut your mouth. Now. I won’t play games with you.” I did as he said. “We’ll be long gone before they arrive, as soon as Jones is finished preparing the gift we’ll be leaving them.” I didn’t ask, mostly because he still had the gun aimed at my head and I was afraid to speak. Barton supplied me with the answer anyway. “We’ll lay the pieces of your guard down on your

father’s grave. They are brothers or whatever nonsense, are they not?” Ace. God, Ace, please be okay, I begged in my mind. Barton lowered the gun to aim it at my torso again. Long seconds ticked by without a word, without a sound. The silence was broken by an electronic ping. Barton unearthed a phone from his pocket, checking the display while his gun arm stayed steady. He looked to me with a smile the Devil himself would cringe at. “Time to move,” he told me. He swept out a hand like a proper gentleman —as if that negated the fact that he had me at gunpoint—and said, “Ladies first.”

I did as he said, walking in the same direction Ace disappeared, though I did it with slow steps. Every second counted. “Faster,” he demanded, jabbing the gun into my back. I increased my pace a bit, but dialed back again as we went on. When he eventually did note I was slowing down, he snapped at me to speed up again. I repeated the cycle. We made it to the line of trees and I hesitated. Barton didn’t like that. His hand slashed out, grabbing onto my hair. With a vicious tug, he pulled my head back, then settled the gun right at my jaw. “I did not tell you to stop. You will

fucking walk or I’ll find a place to put a bullet in you that won’t interfere with me getting inside of you later.” Crap. Crap. Crap. The trees were dense enough, it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the shadows. Up ahead of us, there was another man in a suit. He seemed to be leaning against a tree behind him. On the ground at his feet, a body lay face down. A body in a black leather vest. “No!” I screamed. My knees gave out. It couldn’t be. They couldn’t have taken Ace. He’d been innocent in all this. He had barely been a full Disciple long. He hadn’t been a part of the war with Barton. He’d

only had the rotten luck of being the one to guard me. Barton kicked at my side as he walked around me. “What the fuck took so long, Jones?” he snapped. “We need to get out of here before those motherfuckers—” He stopped speaking abruptly, but I didn’t look to see why. My eyes were on Ace, whom I could swear just moved. It was only a bit, just his arm. Maybe he was alive. Maybe, if the guys got here soon, we could get him to a hospital and… I cried out when Ace was suddenly on his feet, charging at Barton. He wasn’t fast enough. Barton wheeled

around, gun raised, and fired. Ace didn’t even slow. I couldn’t see where the bullet went, but I saw the recoil of his upper body as it hit. He threw himself at Barton either way. The two of them started grappling with Barton’s weapon, Ace’s hand around Barton’s on the gun, their arms raised upward. It was then I saw the blood on Ace’s shirt. Some seemed to be Jones’ while some was seeping out from slashes in the fabric. With his injuries, they were evenly matched, but I was terrified Barton might soon have the advantage. Ace reached behind his back, revealing a gun beneath his cut. He

whipped it out and turned it on Barton, but he was too late. Barton managed to pull free of Ace’s hold and turn the gun on him. I screamed for Ace just as the gunshot rang out and he fell to the ground.

EARLIER THAT DAY... I’d gotten the call that morning. During the night, Roadrunner, Tank, and Jager had finally caught a break. Penelope and Jackson had come back to the apartment, stumbling in drunk and high off their asses. The guys had waited

to get in, watching a live feed Jager had set up. The two had started to go at it and the guys nailed him right before Jackson nailed her. I couldn’t have picked a better time if I had engineered it myself. “Blue balls right before we off him. Fucking cold,” Daz had said. I’d made a plan with Ash. She was going to visit her dad’s grave with Ace on her. He’d volunteered, though he wasn’t entirely thrilled at missing the show we were going to put on with Jackson. Deni was watching Emmy at their house. Slick was home to guard them. Cami was with them. Slick was also less than pleased to miss out, but

his pregnant woman was his top priority. Stone opened the door to the shed at the far end of the clubhouse property, revealing the piss-ant motherfucker tied to a chair. The floor was covered in a tarp—standard operating procedure, making clean up easier. I walked in, my brothers filing in around me. “How do you want him?” Stone asked. “Strung up.” Ham and Gauge moved to do it. They cut him from the chair, recuffed his hands, and linked the chain of the cuffs on a reinforced hook in the ceiling. He was hanging by his wrists, his feet not

reaching the floor even as he danced around and extended his toes to try. All the while, muffled cries came from a gagged Penelope, tied to her own chair in the corner of the room. Once they had him trussed up, I approached. “Hello, Jackson,” I said with a grin. He started pleading like a bitch, but it was swallowed by the cloth gagging him. “You know why you’re here?” More indistinguishable noises came at me. I was taking them as a no. “You touched something that doesn’t belong to you.” His head started shaking back and

forth, with more incessant noises accompanying it. I grabbed a knife from the worktable at the side of the room and held it to the fucker’s throat. “Shut your fucking mouth,” I warned. “I know what you did. You raped my woman, and you’re going to fucking pay.” He didn’t say anything. I took the knife away, then shoved it into his thigh for safe keeping while I moved around him to the bitch tied up at the back of the room. Jackson’s screaming was the best sound I’d heard since Ash had come on my cock the night before. I stood over Penelope, who already

had tears all down her face. “I don’t believe in hurting women,” I told her, and her body relaxed. “Don’t think any real man is okay with that shit.” I knelt down so I was at eye level and she wouldn’t miss what I was saying. “But you, I’m starting to question that stance.” Her eyes got wide, her body shaking so much, she was likely hurting her skin against the ropes. “Ash fucking trusted you. That motherfucker raped her and she went to you. You broke her in your own way with the bullshit you pulled. For that, you’re going to pay.” I stood, pointing over at the still whining fucker who was bleeding

everywhere. “You love him?” She nodded emphatically, like that was going to help the situation. “Good. Then you get to sit here and watch what happens to him.” The bitch screamed, but I didn’t give her another thought. Eyes on the prize, and my prize was waiting for me. I stood in front of my brothers, Jackson still screaming and making a mess behind me. “Ash belongs to this club as much as she does to me,” I said to them. “Anyone else feels they deserve a shot at this fucker, you take it now. I ain’t stopping once I get started.” Roadrunner stepped up first, as I

knew he would. Crazy motherfucker grabbed a blowtorch, a tool Indian was known for having a certain affinity for. “One request, brother,” I stopped him as he approached. He didn’t answer, just met my eyes. “I want him conscious when I get to him.” He smiled and clicked the friction lighter twice. A flame sparked to life from the nozzle of the propane tank and he stepped around me to get to work.

A couple hours passed before it was my turn. The fucker passed out a couple times, necessitating Doc to step in with

the smelling salts. I was gratified by the number my brothers did on him. Every one of them had stepped up for a turn, not just the guys who had been around when we were kids. They all knew Ash, both from whatever time they were around before she left and the weeks since she’d come home. Bearing witness to the gore was not something I wanted for Ash, but I wished she could see all the guys avenging her. Maybe then she’d really understand what she meant to the club. When I stepped up, Jackson was a fucking mess. Every sort of bodily fluid was on him. I grabbed a bucket one of the

brothers had filled with some water and shifted it into my arms, noticing it was freezing cold when it splashed up onto my hands. With a good heave, I tossed the water onto Jackson and his constant whimpers turned into a sharp cry. “Just gettin’ you clean,” I said. “It’s no fun not being able to see our handiwork.” I stood there a moment, looking at the damage my brothers had inflicted—cuts, bruises, stab wounds, and charred flesh covered his whole body. As the water dripped away, blood oozed in again. I took it all in, hearing Ash’s quiet voice in my mind. “He raped me.” The rage built. I felt it moving

through me, igniting my blood. He touched her. He hurt her. It was finally time to make him pay. I set the bucket over beside Jackson so the opening was down. Grabbing a long blade from the table, I stepped onto the bucket to get high enough. “You touched my woman,” I told him, lifting his limp hands above the cuffs. I pressed them together so the backs were touching, then, with a powerful thrust, buried the knife through both hands. Stepping down, I kicked the bucket away. I grabbed a handful of rock salt from a container on the side of the room and flung it against Jackson’s body, aiming for the largest wounds.

While that burned for a while, I perused the selection of sharp tools on the table. “Doc,” I called, louder than necessary. “What you need, brother?” Still talking, making sure Jackson could hear even over his panting and moaning, I asked, “What’s going to be my best option here for castration?” Jackson, who hadn’t moved much in a while, his battered body unable to muster the strength, started to flail and fight his cuffs. The movement made the bleeding worse and tore at his hands. I grinned. Before Doc could give me any sort of

answer, before I could pick a tool to work with, the door banged open. “We need to move,” Stone ordered. I swung around, not fucking pleased about being stopped. “What the fuck for?” I demanded. “Ash called,” he said, and that alone had me moving. I threw the bloody knife to the ground. “Ace took her to the cemetery, then told her to get down and went off, gun drawn. Message cuts out at the end.” There was something he was holding back. “Say it,” I demanded. He stared straight at me. “Heard Barton before the message cut off.” Without a word, I grabbed my SIG

from the back of my jeans and fired three rounds into that fucker Jackson. One between his legs, one in the gut, and one to the throat. He’d bleed out. No surviving that. Then, I took off. Inside the clubhouse, I armed up, the guys all doing the same. We were all on our bikes moments later, riding toward the cemetery at full speed. In my head, a constant mantra went on and on: Just hold on, Firefly. We’re coming. When we made it to the cemetery, I was ready to ride right on the path to Indian’s plot. Stone, however, raised a fist to stop us at the lot. Everyone pulled to a stop, including the van someone had

taken. Jager jumped out of the passenger seat of the cage and announced, “Been tracking both their phones on the way over. Ash’s is down. Last location looks to be right by Indian’s grave. Ace’s is several yards east of there.” Roadrunner spoke next. “There’s some woods at the edge of the property in that direction.” Stone instructed, “We go on foot. There’s risk already that they heard us pull in.” I went to speak, not wanting to take that fucking long to get to Ash, but he cut me off. “No, man. Know you’re freakin’, but we don’t need to give Barton warning we’re coming. No telling what he might do.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Let’s fucking move,” I demanded. Every step, even at a dead fucking run, felt like it took too damn long. Ash was there somewhere. I refused to accept anything else. She was there, and she was alright. We were going to get to her and we were going to fucking kill Barton once and for all. She was going to be alright. She had to be alright.

“Please, please, just hang on,” I begged. Ace didn’t answer. He didn’t look at me. He just lay there, bleeding. Barton didn’t approach, didn’t say anything or demand I get up. He hadn’t reacted when I ran over. I looked up to find him inspecting his man, who was

not, as it had appeared at a distance, leaning against the tree. He was dead. His body pinned like a scarecrow. Ace had stuck two knives into the tree trunk and then positioned the man so the hilts of each knife supported his armpits. I didn’t know how the head stayed up. I didn’t want to look that high to find out. Ace had set a trap for Barton. He’d lured him here to save me and got shot doing it. “What the fuck?” Barton muttered to himself. “That sick motherfucker mutilated him.” I didn’t answer, didn’t draw attention to myself. I focused on applying pressure to the gunshot wound in Ace’s gut.

“Dammit, Jones,” Barton went on, “where the fuck are the keys?” Keys? It took me a moment to understand. Jones was meant to drive whatever car Barton was using to get me out of there. Ace had the time to position the body. He’d probably found the keys, hid them. Barton didn’t seem to realize it. He wasn’t searching Ace. Then, true clarity swept over me. He wasn’t searching Ace. I glanced over. His gun was at his side while he patted down his dead crony. Barton didn’t realize Ace had been reaching for his gun. I hesitated. I didn’t want to move, to

stop pressing on Ace’s wounds. What if he bled out? But then, what was going to happen when Barton realized Ace had the keys? His distraction might be the only chance I had to get us both out alive. My hands trembled as I lifted them away from Ace’s body. My throat tightened as the blood began to flow faster, but I forced myself to keep moving. Trying to be as quiet as possible, and keeping an eye on Barton as he went about his search, I pressed my hand to the ground and pushed it beneath Ace’s back. He was heavy— heavy beyond just his weight. He was heavy in the way a body became when

someone was unconscious or… Nope. I made myself shut that thought down. I felt the butt of the gun against my fingers and nearly cried with relief. I grabbed on, yanking it out without much resistance. I glanced between Barton’s back and the gun. It was a pistol, a SIG Sauer. A gun my dad had taught me to shoot. My eyes jumped to Barton, then back down to check the safety. It was off. I kept my eyes up while I brought the gun down low and cocked it between my body and Ace’s, trying to muffle the sound. Barton didn’t notice. Moving, I took to my feet and moved directly behind Barton. I held the gun in

both hands, lining up the sight. With a deep breath, I pressed the trigger in. Barton’s arm flew forward with the force of the shot, his weapon falling to the ground. He cried out as he swung my way. I brought the gun up to point at his head. “You fucking cunt!” he roared. Blood poured from his arm, dripping onto the ground. He went to step toward me. “Stop! Stay where you are,” I ordered. “You think you have the guts? I fucking dare you, bitch,” he spat. “But you better be fucking sure you kill me. You don’t, I’m coming after you, that

club, and your daughter.” The breath rushed from my lungs and my hands flinched so much, I was surprised I hadn’t accidentally squeezed the trigger. He knew about Emmy. I hadn’t planned to kill him. I was going to keep him there until the Disciples got there. Stone had to have gotten my message by then. I think I convinced myself we could hand Barton over to the cops. I had no idea how I’d planned to get the guys to agree to that, but I hadn’t really thought about how he would have to die. Until he mentioned Emmy. The man had taken my dad, had killed my mother. He threatened the men

I called family and planned to rape and kill me. He’d shot Ace. None of that mattered compared to his threat against my Emmaline. He couldn’t walk away. He couldn’t live another day if he had any ideas about hurting her. The risk was too great. My heart was pounding. Sweat began beading everywhere. My hands felt slick on the butt of the gun, so I gripped it tighter, until my knuckles started to ache. “You can’t do it,” he taunted. No, he was wrong. For Emmaline, I could do anything. I blinked my stinging eyes to keep my focus on him sharp. The front sight was lined up to the center of his forehead.

All I had to do was pull the trigger. Then, another yell filled my ears. “Ash!” Sketch. He was there. They were all probably there. I could hear the footsteps and muttered curses. “Ace,” I called back. “He’s been shot.” “Ash, baby, lower the gun. We’ve got it,” Sketch instructed. It sounded like he was a few feet behind me, but I didn’t look. I didn’t take my eyes off Barton, not even for a second. “No. No, he shot Ace. He killed Dad. He ordered them to rape my mom.” I adjusted my grip on the gun, centering the sight.

“Baby, he won’t walk away,” Sketch promised. “He threatened Emmy.” A hush fell over the men at my back. “Ash,” Sketch whispered. “He threatened her. He said he’d come after her. He’ll try. I won’t let him have the chance.” I felt his presence right before Sketch’s hand touched my back. Every muscle in my body tensed to the breaking point in order to resist the urge to melt into his touch. “I’ll do it,” he said. “I’ll take care of it. I swear to you. Just give me the gun.” “No. I have to see it. I have to know he’s gone.”

“Baby, you don’t need to have that in your mind.” His touch became firmer, his hand pressing in as he inched closer. I took a small step forward. “I do. I need to see it or I’ll never be sure he’s gone. I need to know it’s over.” “Ash,” he tried again. “No!” I shrieked. “Someone else get a fucking shot,” he ordered. Oh, no. My time was up. I looked at Barton. I saw my daddy’s face, remembered the morning of the last time I saw him. “Morning, Firefly,” he greeted when I came into the kitchen. I went right to him, like I did every morning,

and he kissed my forehead. “Morning, Daddy.” “Coffee?” I shook my head. “No, thank you. Gabe will be here soon.” “What’re you doing today?” he asked as he sipped his coffee. “I don’t know. I think we’re just doing breakfast and then going to hang out at his place.” He was giving me a weird sort of smile. “Need you to do something.” “What?” “Get that boy to the clubhouse at five.” I cocked my head to the side, confused.

“He’s getting his prospect patch tonight,” he explained. A smile broke out on my face. “Really?” “Really, sweetheart. But you gotta keep that to yourself.” “Of course,” I swore. Setting his mug down, he walked my way. He spread his arms open and I moved into him, wrapping my arms around his middle. There was only one place on earth I felt as safe as when Gabe held me, and that was right here. “He’s a good man. I’m glad to know the man taking over the job of caring for you is going to be a Disciple. You’ll always be right here.”

He was right. It was perfect. Gabe and I would always be in Hoffman, right where Dad was always going to be. It was everything I’d wanted since I was a little girl and Gabe told me he was going to become a Disciple, marry me, and we’d have kids together. He said he’d make me the happiest wife ever. I saw Dad briefly later that night, after Gabe got his prospect patch and the guys threw a party, but only briefly. Gabe and I snuck out early. I could see Dad’s face so clearly in my mind—his scruffy facial hair, the crinkles by his eyes, the little white scar on his right cheek he made up a crazier

story about every time I asked. I’d never gotten another chance to hug him that way, to have him wrap me up tight like I was still a little girl. I’d never smell the tobacco and motor oil that always clung to him. Even, it seemed, when he was just out of the shower. There was no bringing him back. There was no way for Emmy to know him, to experience the love he would have given her in spades. There was no hearing him call me firefly ever again. Barton had stolen that from me, he’d stolen it from Emmy, and then he’d threatened to steal her from me, too. With a calm settling over me that would likely terrify me later, I looked

through the sight and pulled the trigger.

The bullet exploded from the gun in Ash’s hands at the same moment another gun fired to my right. Ash’s aim was true, going right to Barton’s head, but so was the other bullet. They collided at the same moment, blowing the asshole’s head apart, sending his body crumbling

to the ground. Not waiting a second, I wrapped both arms around Ash and took the gun from her hand. I held it out to the side and someone grabbed it from me. I didn’t look to see who. Didn’t give a fuck. Ash’s legs started to go, so I scooped her up and held her to my chest. She was trembling something fierce. “Ace,” she said. I looked up and found Doc seeing to Ace. Ham was already rushing away, probably to the van. There was a stretcher we could use to move him without calling emergency services. “I got a pulse. Weak, but he’s holding

on. We need to get him to the hospital now,” Doc announced. “Barton and his man are both gone,” Jager added. Gauge appeared from between the trees. “Area’s clear. There’s an access drive a couple yards from here, connects right onto the main road.” “Call Ham, tell him to bring the van around there,” Stone instructed, but Gauge was already on it. He went on with his orders to the group at large. “Ham and Doc in the van. Doc, you cool with Jager takin’ your bike out of here?” Doc nodded his agreement, his focus still on Ace. “Need a couple men to stay back, keep an eye on this mess until we

can get the van back here and move these fuckers out.” A couple voices rose to volunteer, I didn’t take time to look around for who. “Jager,” Stone went on, “get on the phone with Andrews. We bring a GSW, questions are going to be asked.” Stone looked my way. “You got her?” I jerked my chin in response. “Get her out of here.” I didn’t hesitate. I just left. As I walked, my pace quick and body tight, I said, “Talk to me, baby.” “I shot him,” she said in a flat voice. “You shot at him.” I felt her head tip up to me. “No, I shot him.”

“You don’t know your bullet hit first,” I told her. It was thin, but it was something. “But it hit, Gabe,” she returned. It did. Fuck, if she hadn’t been sage already when she fired, if we hadn’t all been at her back ready to shoot the fucker instead, I would tell her it was a great shot. I’d tell her she’d defended herself and Ace, and that was that. She had done those things, but there was something more at work. Fact was, we were all there. She could have put the gun down, let us deal with Barton. It’s what I’d wanted her to do. I had no idea why she wouldn’t let go.

“I’m sorry,” that same lifeless voice said to me. It wasn’t my Ash. She wasn’t in there at the moment. “Baby, you don’t have one fuckin’ thing to be sorry for. He would have killed you, he nearly killed Ace,” I told her. Fuck, how much farther was it to my fucking bike? It seemed like that damn place went on forever. I wasn’t even sure if I was going to be able to take Ash home on my bike. At that moment, I wasn’t sure she was capable of holding onto me and being safe while we rode. “He killed Dad. And my mom.” Was that what it was about? Revenge?

I looked down at my girl. Her curls were a mess. I could only begin to guess why. Chances were, the answer was going to make me wish I’d been the one to finish off Barton even more. Her blue eyes were dull, looking out at but not seeing the landscape as I carried her through the cemetery. Her skin was pale, ashen. If I couldn’t feel her breaths, see her blink every so often, I would think she was dead. “He did, Ash. He was a fucking monster.” “He threatened Emmy,” she said. Then, in a voice that had some life to it, repeated, “He threatened Emmy.” Her head swung up to look at me. “He

threatened her. I couldn’t chance it. I couldn’t.” Her voice rose with panic, absolute terror coming into her eyes. “What if someone else missed? What if he got away and hurt her? I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t. I—” “Hush, babe. Just breathe.” I wanted to be able to tuck her head into my neck, to run my hands through her hair in the way that always soothed her. “Let me get you out of here. We’ll be home soon, and I’ll take care of you.” “Oh, god. I killed him. I actually… I…” She seemed to physically choke on the words. “How can I go home and hold Emmy? How do I…?” “Ash. Stop it. Now. Don’t go there.

Just hold on to me.” Thank fuck, she did it. She burrowed in, gripping me until her nails were digging in. I didn’t give a fuck. She could make me bleed, as long as it kept her together. She held on that way, a punishing hold, once I got her on the bike and the entire ride back. Ash made it inside the farmhouse from the bike without help. She seemed to be on autopilot. Once we were standing in the living room, she looked at me. “What do I do now?” she asked. The was a loaded fucking question, wasn’t it? There was blood on her arms, on her

clothes. I was guessing it was Ace’s. She’d probably tried to keep pressure on the wound before she turned on Barton. I didn’t need to look down to know it was on me as well. “Shower,” I answered. Her eyes dipped down, as if just noticing the mess. I should have been ready for it, I should have just taken her to the bathroom without saying anything so I could wash her off before she realized the issue. Fuck. She started wiping at her arms, but her hands were no cleaner. All she did was smear the red streaks around, making her rub more desperately.

“Oh, god. Get it off. Get it off. Get it off.” I grabbed her face with both hands, moving in until I was the only thing in her line of sight. “Focus on me, baby,” I ordered. “Just me. I’m going to get rid of it. I promise.” “We need to go to the hospital,” she returned. “Are you hurt?” I demanded, worried I’d missed something and her shock had distracted her. “No. Ace.” Jesus, she’d scared the fuck out of me. “We’ll go later. I need to take care of you now.” “But—” she started to refute.

“Later,” I insisted. “Right now, he’s getting the help he needs. We can’t do anything. I’ve got my phone. Anything changes, someone will call. Right now, you need to let me take care of you.” As lost as she was at the moment, that seemed to penetrate. She nodded, the movement restricted by my hold, but I felt it. I led her into the bathroom she and Emmy used, then stopped her in the middle. Kneeling down before her, I removed her shoes while I instructed her to empty her pockets. I was taking her into the shower with her clothes on and I’d help her undress there. It would be easier to clean the tub than the bathroom

floors. I noticed she only took out keys, and asked, “Where’s your phone, baby?” “He took it. At the tree by Dad’s grave. He shot it.” Fuck. I got my own phone out and called Stone. They needed to grab that phone as part of the clean up. Only once that was settled did I lead Ash into the shower. Her body quaked, but I knew it had nothing to do with being cold. The water was hot and I had her close. She was shaking from the strain of holding herself together. Everything in her wanted to shatter and she couldn’t hold onto the pieces much longer.

“You’re safe, Firefly. Let go.” She collapsed against me, her body too weak to keep up the fight. I held her up just long enough to get her soiled clothes off, then lowered us to the floor of the tub. There, she crawled into my lap and let loose. She sobbed and screamed, shook from the force of her emotion. I held on, even as that shit ripped my heart out. I held on to her because one of us had to.

After the worst of her breakdown passed, I managed to get Ash clean and into bed. She crashed almost

immediately, the day proving to be too much. I figured it was best to let her sleep, so I had. Once I was sure she was out, I went back to the bathroom and cleaned up. I tossed her shirt and mine; there was no getting that amount of blood out. I’d gotten a text shot out to everyone while I was cleaning. Ace was out of surgery and he would make a full recovery. I’d considered waking Ash to let her know, but decided against it. I’d have the news when she woke. That was soon enough. Before I went back in to lay beside her, I called Deni and asked if she could keep Emmy for the night. Slick had

already been updated on everything, so she had been expecting it. She put Emmy on the line and I’d asked her if she was okay with it. “Yay! Sleepover!” had been her response. “Aunt Deni said she’d paint my nails pink!” At least I didn’t have to worry about one of my girls. “Okay, princess. You have fun, and I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” “Okay. I love you, Daddy.” Fuck. Just hearing that had made it easier to breathe. After everything that had happened, I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but she even made me fucking smile.

“I love you, too, princess.” With the knowledge that our daughter was settled, I’d gone back to my woman. She had still been out, thankfully. In sleep, she’d seemed at peace. It was almost like none of it had happened, like she’d wake up without any of that shit in her head. I fucking hated that I couldn’t make that true. She’d been asleep for several hours when my phone rang. She didn’t even stir, but I stepped out of the room before I took it. “Yeah?” “How’s Ash?” Roadrunner asked. “Asleep. Broke down not long after we got back, then crashed.”

He sighed. I knew what he was feeling. There was no telling what shape Ash was going to be in when she woke up. “Fucks me to say it, but you should wake her up. Ace is coming off the anesthesia. He’s stirred a couple times, askin’ for her.” Fuck. I didn’t want to wake her and force her to face this shit. Still, he was probably right. As useless as it made me feel, being able to see Ace alive and awake would probably do more for her than I could. “Right. You’re probably right,” I gave him. “I’ll get her up now. Be over there when we can.”

“Right, brother. Just see to her. Ace wakes again, I’ll tell him you’re bringing her.” I hung up and pocketed my phone. It took me a minute to go back to the room and open the door. I knew waking her was the right thing, I knew it was what she would want, but that didn’t make it easy. She was still curled up on her right side, facing the side of the bed. As I sat on the edge, she had no reaction to the movement. I ran my hand through her hair and her eyes pinched tighter. “Ash,” I called. Her body pulled in so she was fully in the fetal position. A defense mechanism. It may not have been

a conscious choice, but she was fighting me. She was trying to stay asleep. With a gentle shake against her side, I repeated her name. A little groan was her response. “Baby, you’ve gotta wake up.” Finally, her eyes blinked open. There was still a tinge of redness to them. She looked adorably confused at first, but harsh reality only took a moment to settle in. “Ace?” she questioned with fear. “He’s alright. The surgery went well, and he’s supposed to recover fine.” She released a heavy breath, and whispered, “Good.” “That’s why I’m waking you. He’s

coming off anesthesia. Roadrunner said he’s woken a couple times and is asking for you. You want to go?” Her answer was immediate and definitive, even though she didn’t say a word. She was up, getting out of the bed and heading for the closet to get dressed.

A nurse led us through the ICU to Ace’s room. I just saw her, yet I couldn’t tell you what she looked like from the front. I couldn’t tell you how to get back to the waiting room, or how to get out of the hospital. I just knew I was holding on to Sketch and he would take me where I

needed to go. We stopped and I realized we were outside a sliding glass door. There was a curtain pulled closed, so we couldn’t see inside. That was good. The rooms would probably look like exhibits at an aquarium otherwise. “Ash?” Sketch called to me. I looked up at him. “Did you get that?” “What?” I asked, my head turning to find the nurse already moving down the hall. Sketch gave me a look that told me he was worried. I was kind of worried, too. I’d been feeling so much before I went to sleep. Too much. Then, I woke up and… I didn’t really feel anything.

“We need to wash our hands and shit before we go in,” he explained. “Oh, right.” He led me through the sliding door, which opened into a little alcove with a sink station and cabinets. There was equipment and things I had no idea how to work and wouldn’t touch. I washed up after Sketch, putting all my attention on the task. I had to do well. I had to get clean. I had to… “Fuck, baby. Stop it,” Sketch ordered, dragging me away from the water with both my wrists in his hands. His touch stung, but I didn’t understand why until I glanced down. My hands and forearms were bright

red. I’d rubbed them raw. I could feel the relief of getting them out of the water that had obviously been too hot. “Ow,” I whispered. “What’s in your head?” Sketch questioned. I kept my eyes on my hands. “I just needed to get clean. I have to be clean to go in there.” “Look at me, Ash,” he told me. He seemed to be saying that a lot. I did, and noticed the way his brow wrinkled. I tried to reach out and smooth it down, but he still had a hold of my wrists. “Why are you holding my arms?” “Because I need your attention. I need this to get through whatever wall

you’re putting up right now.” I didn’t get what he was talking about, so I cocked my head. He ignored that move and went on. “You are not dirty. You don’t need to get clean. You don’t need to do this to yourself,” he said, punctuating his words with a small shake of my arms. My eyes moved from him to my arms again. Suddenly, I wasn’t looking at my arms reddened from scrubbing them. I was looking at my arms covered in Ace’s blood. I blinked the image away, but couldn’t get it out of my head. Even though I saw I was clean, I still couldn’t shake the memory. “Firefly,” Sketch called my attention

back to him, “you’re clean.” I stared at my arms another moment. He was right. They were clean. I was clean. It took a while of repeating it to myself, but the image in my head faded back until it was gone. “I’m clean,” I finally said aloud. Sketch nodded, then released me, but grabbed onto my hand to center me. Being quiet, likely in case Ace was resting, he led me into the room. Ace was in the bed, his eyes closed. He looked totally normal, like he was just sleeping. All the white and light colors, however, the very clean looking equipment around him beeping every so

often and lighting up, looked so out of place around a man I was used to seeing in all black, grease on his body somewhere, usually surrounded by the mess the Disciples seemed to make wherever they were. It all just seemed odd. Wrong. Sketch led me to a chair beside the bed, pulling it out a bit so I could sit. He stayed beside me, half standing, half sitting on the arm of my chair. I felt a vague sense of surprise that the flimsy looking thing didn’t give out under him. I wasn’t sure what to do. It felt wrong to disturb Ace while he was resting. He needed rest, right? But he’d been asking for me. Maybe he wanted to

know if I was there. “Talk to him,” Sketch said, settling the internal argument for me. I inched forward until I was right on the edge of my seat. Reaching between the bars raised along the side of the bed, I placed my hand on Ace’s. “Ace? It’s me…Ash…” I started, not sure what to say. “Can you wake up for me? I want to talk to you and know you’re alright.” I didn’t get any response, so I decided to keep talking. “I’m so sorry this happened. He shot you, and it’s my fault. You shouldn’t have gotten hurt. You were just trying to protect me. I never wanted this to

happen. I…” Ace’s hand moved a bit under mine and I froze. In a raspy voice, he said, “Christ, woman. I took a bullet. No big deal.” I let out a little sob and he opened his eyes some to look at Sketch and me. “You’re okay.” He looked at me like I was nuts. “They didn’t tell you that?” “They did.” He shook his head and flinched a bit at the movement. Then, to Sketch, he said, “You need to control your woman.” Still crying and not at all able to get it under control, I snapped, “Well, excuse me for being grateful to you for

saving my life.” I started to pull my hand away, but he grabbed onto it. I stopped and met his eyes. His were serious then. “I’m glad you made it out alright,” he said. “Thank you for protecting me.” “Anytime.” Sketch placed his hand on my back before he spoke. “Thank you, brother.” My tears kicked up a notch. Ace tried to shift, but ended up stilling on a wince. After a second, he said, “Way I hear it, your woman saved us both.” I tensed. “Yeah, she did,” Sketch agreed. What?

“No, I didn’t,” I rushed out. I looked at Ace, and said, “You took out the other guy,” before turning to Sketch, and finishing, “and you guys were already there before I…” I couldn’t say it. Even in my head, I couldn’t finish that thought. The image of having the gun trained on Barton popped into my mind, but I shut it down before I could relive the moment any more. “You incapacitated him,” Sketch reminded me. “Unless Ace was the one who put the bullet in his arm.” I didn’t confirm that, but Ace took it upon himself to do so. “Wasn’t me.” “You hadn’t done that,” Sketch went on, “the two of you might not have been

there when we showed up.” “I…” I didn’t know what to say. They were making it out like what I did was good. “You saved my ass and yours,” Ace filled in. “You struggle with that shit at all, you remember my ass is here because of you. You’re still here next to my brother, able to go home to your little girl, because you acted.” That wasn’t true. Well, okay, maybe it was true for getting his gun and disarming Barton, maybe he was right that doing so saved us both, but there was more to it than that. A moment passed before Ace spoke again. “Fuck, I’m goin’ down again,” he

muttered. His eyes were already half closed. “Fuckin’ drugs.” He faced Sketch, and ordered, “Get her home, and tell the boys I want that sexy fuckin’ nurse in here next time I wake up.” He was falling asleep even as he spoke and faded out completely just after he was done. “Come on,” Sketch said, holding out his hand for me. “Time to let him rest. We can come back tomorrow.” He led me out of the room, making sure to shut the sliding door and curtain behind us, then through the maze of hallways I really hadn’t taken in on the way here. Eventually, we made it into a waiting room where several of the

Disciples were seated. Roadrunner came my way and pulled me into his arms. “I’m so fucking glad you’re alright,” he rumbled. I squeezed him tightly, and murmured, “I’m okay.” “Couldn’t take losin’ you, too.” My heart broke. This man who had been such a huge part of my life had lost his best friend, and I’d gone and left right after. I knew he meant he was glad nothing worse happened with Barton, but I understood in that moment how much deeper it went. “You’ll never lose me again,” I told him. “I’m sorry I left before. It was a

mistake. Hoffman is home. It always has been.” He held me close for a while longer before he stepped back. “Long as you know that now. Ain’t no way I’m letting you leave with Emmy,” he joked. “The two of them aren’t going anyfucking-where,” Sketch put in. I glanced over my shoulder at him, seeing his temper rising at the mere idea of me leaving. Despite all the crap rolling around in my brain, despite being sure I’d never been more exhausted in my life, I smiled at him. He didn’t hesitate to step in close and wrap his arms around me from behind. I felt him rest his chin on the top of my head.

Oh yeah, this was home. The rest of the guys—Stone, Tank, Gauge, Ham, and Daz—took their turns to check on me and tell me in their own ways they were glad I was okay. Including Daz’s touching, “Be a damn shame the world had one less gorgeous fuckin’ woman like you in it.” I cried the whole time.

It was after three in the morning and I was outside on the deck, staring into the dark yard and seeing the occasional little light of a firefly. I couldn’t sleep. I’d tried. Sketch and I had gone to bed pretty

much immediately when we got back to the farmhouse. He’d only delayed it to feed us both. We’d both fallen asleep quickly, but I woke an hour later. Then, an hour or so after that. And it kept happening. Every time I fell back asleep, I’d end up back in those woods at the edge of the cemetery, the gun in my hand. Every time, I woke with a start as I pulled the trigger. It happened again and again. I couldn’t escape it. Eventually, sick of recycling the same dream, I’d gotten out of bed. Luckily, Sketch slept right through me waking each time and slipping out. I loved him, but I wasn’t sure I wanted

company. I was outside for a while, trying to focus on the little flashes of light across the yard, not the mess in my head, when I heard the door open. Sketch had likely realized I was gone and went looking for me. I didn’t say anything and hoped he would just let me be for a while longer. “Wasn’t you,” a deep voice rumbled at me. I turned and saw Jager leaning against the siding next to the door. “What?” “Barton. Wasn’t you who offed him. I took the other shot. Hit him first.” He was trying to make me feel better. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I’m not saying I wouldn’t blow smoke up your ass about this just because you’re struggling, but I’m telling you I’m not. I’ve got more experience with a gun than you. I can track my shot. I hit him first.” I took that in, choosing to trust what he was saying. It didn’t make me feel any better. “It doesn’t matter.” He came over and stood beside me, but I kept my eyes out on the lawn. “Lost my whole family,” he said after a moment. My head flew his way, but he wasn’t looking at me. “What?” I whispered in horror. “Long time ago. House fire. Some

asshole my dad laid off decided he wanted retribution. Drunk off his ass, which was why my dad fired him. Don’t know if he meant to hurt anyone, or just damage the house. Do know he did it on purpose.” Holy crap. “I was the only one who made it out. He started the fire at the furthest end of the house from my room. I lost them all that night, worst fucking way I could imagine.” He didn’t go on for a while and I knew it was because talking about it was killing him, even if he didn’t show it. My heart was bleeding for him to have experienced that.

“If I’d known the motherfucker was going to do that before it happened, if he even threatened it and it was only a possibility, I would have killed him myself.” Oh, god. That’s where he was going with this. “Jager…” “No, Ash. You gotta hear this. It could have been just an off fucking chance he might do it and I would have taken him out without question. I would have had to do it myself to know it was done, and done properly. Nothing else would satisfy that fear.” I didn’t say a thing. I was too overwhelmed.

“What I’m saying is, you don’t have one fucking thing to be torn up about. That asshole took a fuck of a lot from you and he threatened to hurt your daughter. You shouldn’t be losin’ even one fucking wink of sleep over the fact that you tried to remove him from this earth. You didn’t do it, I know that one hundred percent. But you shouldn’t even struggle with the fact that you tried. You were protecting your little girl. Ain’t one bad thing about that.” I didn’t know what to say to that, because I was thinking he might be right. “You might struggle with it for a while, but you remember what that fucker was threatening to take from you.

You hold your daughter and know from experience you would go to any lengths to protect her. There’s not one bad thing about that. That’s just proof of how much you love her.” With those words echoing in my head as we stood together in silence, I realized he was right. Barton was a monster and he’d threatened Emmy. I’d done what I needed to do. “Thank you,” I eventually said into the dark landscape. Jager didn’t say anything back, but I didn’t expect him to. After a while, I decided to go back inside. Before I left, I placed a hand on his upper arm. When he looked my way, I told him with the

full gravity I felt, “I’m sorry.” He jerked his chin up at me and I decided it was time to leave him alone. He’d opened up some very deep wounds for me, the least I could do was let him have peace to try to stop the bleeding. When I stepped inside, Sketch was standing there. He was leaning against the wall, a clear view into the back from where he was. “He help?” he asked. I nodded, then he mirrored the movement. Without a word, he extended his hand. Walking the rest of the way to him, I placed mine in his. He took us back to my room and into bed. I didn’t have the nightmare again.

“How you doing, birthday girl?” I asked when Carson took a moment to shake out his hand and give me a breather. Emmy was sitting in a chair next to me, a purple lap desk across her legs, coloring away. At the end of the crayon

in her hand was a birthday gift Jess had given her when we got to the shop. It was a pink-painted, wooden replica of a tattoo machine. Even pink, it was cool as fuck, and Emmy loved it. She thought it was awesome that she got to be just like me, and I fucking loved that she wanted to be. She was even more excited to use it while Carson worked on my chest with the real thing. I’d been tasked with keeping Emmy for the morning while the guys decorated the clubhouse yard under the strict eyes of Ash, Cami, and Deni. I was more than happy to take my girl and get the fuck out of that.

I’d taken her out for breakfast, where I let her get a waffle with strawberries, ice cream, and whipped cream on it, but only after she swore she wouldn’t tell her mom. Ice cream for breakfast, Ash would ream my ass. The waiter even added sprinkles and a candle to her waffle, catching the not-at-all-subtle hint from the pink t-shirt she was wearing that said “Birthday Girl” in glitter. Emmy was over the moon. Needless to say, my princess loved her birthday. It was a whole day where she got to be the star, and she didn’t even know what we had planned for her. “Good,” Emmy answered, her head staying down in her new princess

coloring book. Well, as long as she was happy. We didn’t have much longer here, anyway. Carson was almost finished and the party set-up should be nearly complete. Having Emmy hang out while I got a tattoo wasn’t quite what I’d meant to spend the morning doing, but it had been hard to carve time out of the last week. After her talk with Jager, Ash did seem to do better. However, that didn’t mean shit was perfect for her. She still had moments where she struggled. When we’d first gone to pick up Emmy the morning after it happened, she’d had to excuse herself before she broke down. In the first few days, the times it

overwhelmed her were more frequent. Unfortunately, it had also fallen on me in those days to tell her about Jackson. I’d considered keeping it from her, but she knew too much about our plans for that. The time would have come where she either asked or at least worried over what would seem to be a lack of progress in finding him. I didn’t want that to plague her at any point, so I’d laid it out for her. We’d found Jackson. He was no longer a threat to anyone. End of story. The guys had dealt with disposing of Jackson, Barton, and Barton’s muscle. They’d dealt with Officer Andrews in regards to Ace’s gunshot wounds and

Barton’s sudden disappearance from local business. I’d had no part in any of it. My focus was on Ash. With all that going on, I’d asked Jess to reschedule my clients so I could be there for her. This meant, once she’d started doing better, I’d had a heavy work schedule to see to. I’d finally finished the design for the tattoo I was getting to fill the untouched space on my chest a couple days before the shit with Barton went down. Carson had helped me work out some of the design flaws. What we hadn’t had the chance to do was actually sit down so he could put it on me. I had plans for this tattoo, and those plans meant I needed it

done. “We're just about finished here. Just have to finalize some of the shading,” Carson said. He dipped the needle into one of the small caps of ink beside him and got back to work. About half an hour later, he cleaned off the last of the blood and excess ink, and handed me a mirror to take a look at the finished product. “Fuckin’ amazing, man,” I told him as I took it in. It was exactly what I wanted, exactly what I planned to get for years. “Guess this means I'm officially retired now,” Carson said as he studied his own handiwork. “Also means this place is yours now.”

Fuck. Sailor’s Grave was mine. “I’ll do you proud,” I promised. “Know you will,” he returned. While he cleaned up, I went back to Emmy. She was still coloring away, but looked up when I got close. “Ready to go, princess?” “Where we going next?” she asked. “That’s a surprise.” That got her attention, and her excitement. She was quick to pick up her crayons and coloring book, and put them in her backpack. Once she was ready to go, I looked to Jess and Carson, the only ones in the shop with us. “You both headed over?”

With nods of assent from them, we headed out. I shot a text to Ash to let her know we'd be there in half an hour, giving them plenty of time to finish anything they had to do and giving Jess and Carson time to get there before Emmy and me. When we finally pulled up to the clubhouse, I was pleased to realize Emmy didn't note the significance of the number of bikes and cars out front. I got her out of the truck and carried her through the building and out to the back. I'd hit send on a pre-typed text to Ash when I parked so she'd know to get everyone ready. The moment we stepped out into the

backyard, a chorus of shouts greeted us. “Surprise!” Emmy started applauding wildly and squirming to get me to set her down. The moment I did, she was off like a shot to her mom. Ash scooped her up and gave her a kiss. That was all she got from Emmy before our girl took off to greet the rest of her guests. I went to Ash, wrapping her up, but keeping her leaning against my right side, away from my new tattoo. I tried not to grin at the sight of her wearing the black leather with a patch that read “Firefly” on the breast. On the back, much bigger in a statement it would take a fuckin’ fool to miss, were the words

“Property of Sketch”. I’d been planning to put that patch on her since I was six years old. I’d finally done it the day after Barton went down. She’d wanted to go visit Ace again, so we’d been getting ready to leave to get there as soon as visiting hours started. Once she was dressed, she headed straight for the door. “Where’re you going, babe?” I’d asked. She’d given me an impatient look. “I want to get to the hospital.” “You’re not ready yet,” I’d told her. She didn’t understand, but I hadn’t meant for her to. I went to the bed, taking the bag I’d hidden under it out. With my

back to her, I had put the second part of the surprise in my pocket. Then, I’d turned to hand her the first part. She teared up as soon as she saw the black leather in my hands. She knew exactly what it was and I figured she’d been waiting about as long to have it as I had to give it to her. Not a moment passed before she took it and pulled it on. While she went over to the mirror affixed to the inside of the closet door, I took her second gift from my pocket. I went up behind her as she admired the sight of herself in the cut. For a moment, I stood back a few feet so I could permanently burn the image of my patch on her back into my head. Once I

was sure it was there, I moved in close. Her eyes came up to mine in the mirror as she smiled and thanked me. While her attention was there, I slid the ring onto her left hand.

That was how I proposed. I didn’t get down on one knee. I didn’t ask, no matter how much shit she gave me for it afterward. She was already mine, and I was hers. That was just my symbol telling her we were going to make it legal. I still wasn’t used to the sight of her wearing my patch or my ring, though I

fucking loved seeing both. So even though I tried not to, I was grinning like an idiot when I got in close to her surrounded by Emmy’s birthday guests— who were pretty much the same people always around, the Disciples. “Hi, Firefly,” I said before I took a kiss. She kissed me back, then moved her eyes to Emmy, who was up in Daz’s arms. It looked like she was gushing over the surprise party. Fuck, she was such a ham. “You think she liked it?” Ash asked. I was about to tell her it was pretty obvious and point out there was no way our little princess wouldn’t love the fact

that it looked like the women had found every bit of pink and sparkly decoration they could get to throw all over the yard when a shriek sounded out. We both turned to Emmy, who was still in Daz’s arms with her hands covering her mouth and her eyes huge. Then, she moved her hands to shriek again. “A pony!” Yeah, we’d gotten a fuckin’ pony. Not for her to keep, mind you. It was just there with its owner for the afternoon. “I think she likes it,” I stated the obvious.

A few hours later, we were sitting next to a big table laden with presents. The vultures I called family had already fallen on and consumed the cake, but only after singing the lowest, rumbling Happy Birthday ever to “Princess Emmy” and watching her blow out her

four little candles. Most of the presents had already been opened when Sketch declared it was his turn. He grabbed the couple remaining gift bags from the table and handed the first one off to Emmy. She tore in immediately and came up with a piece of paper. Since I was sitting closest to her, she handed it to me. “What’s it say, Mommy?” I looked down at the paperwork Sketch and I had filed a couple days ago, then up to him. We’d done our research and found out adding Sketch to Emmy’s birth certificate as her father didn’t require a paternity test at all, only signed declarations from us both that he was.

We’d gotten it taken care of immediately, but hadn’t explained it to Emmy yet. The tears were stinging my eyes already. “It says,” Sketch answered Emmy, “you’re officially my daughter, and I’m your daddy.” Emmy, bless her little heart, didn’t get it. “You’re already my daddy.” Sketch smiled huge, picked her up, and sat back down on the ground with her in his lap. “Yes, but that piece of paper tells the whole world that.” “Really?” she asked in wonderment. “Yeah, princess.” “That’s a good present,” she told him, and that broke the seal. Tears went down my cheeks and I did nothing to

stop them. From the gasps I heard nearby, I was guessing Cami and Deni were losing it, too. While I collected myself, Sketch moved on, pulling down the last two gift bags. He handed one to Emmy and the other to me. I gave him a curious look as I took it. In answer to my questioning look, he told me, “You’re probably going to have a concern or two about this present. Your gift is the answer to those concerns.” I had no idea what he was talking about, but I went with it. Getting the okay from her dad, Emmy ripped into the new bag and unearthed a tennis ball. She

looked at him, but he was looking toward the door. Right on cue, Tank came into the yard with a squirming German Sheppard puppy in his arms. Emmy jumped to her feet. “A puppy!” I watched as she ran over to Tank, who knelt down in front of her and helped her meet her new puppy. It was nearly as excited to see her as she was it. It was wiggling all over her, trying to lick her face. I was glad when I saw Cami with her phone out and angled that way. That was a memory we’d want to have forever. “Open yours,” Sketch said from beside me. Sifting through tissue paper, I pulled

out a few sheets of paper stapled together. They looked like a printout from a real estate website. I flipped through the pages, reading about a twostory, three-bedroom house. On the last page, I got a look at the property. “You…” I couldn’t even put it into words. I was looking at a picture of my childhood home. “It came back on the market a few months ago. I’d been keeping an eye on it,” he explained. “Just closed the deal on Wednesday.” “You bought my dad’s house?” I asked. I couldn’t believe it. He smiled. “I bought our house.” Our house. A house the two of us,

Emmy, and her new puppy would call home. A house we would raise her in. A house we might give her a sibling in. And it was a house I already knew as home. It was perfect.

Hours later, Sketch and I were in the room that had once been mine, but I’d started to think of as ours, at the farmhouse. Emmy was already in bed, her puppy, Duncan, in a crate in the hall, directly between her room and ours. She’d knocked out early after all the excitement.

Sketch and I had spent the night since tucking her in talking about the house. We planned out how we would furnish it, which of the bedrooms we would install Emmy in, and I’d cried more than a handful of times at the realization that we would raise her where Dad had raised me. We were in bed, Sketch sitting against the headboard, me lounging against him, when he said, “Got another gift for you.” I sat up and turned to look at him. “It’s Emmy’s birthday, not mine.” “Maybe, but four years ago, you brought that perfect girl into the world. That deserves celebrating, too.”

Crap. He had really been going for the waterworks all day. Leaning over the side of the bed, he reached into the nightstand and pulled out a sheet of paper. His face was serious in a way that made me wary when he settled back into his spot. “Before I show this to you, I want you to understand why I did it. I thought you needed this to move on. If there had been a different result, I would not be showing it to you. I’d take that secret with me to the grave. You’d have never known. But I want you to see this now.” I took the papers from him, worried I already knew what it was. The printed report was loaded with

information I couldn’t sort through, but the top included a word that left me speechless. “Paternity.” My eyes shot up to him. “I’m her father,” he declared. My grip on the paper tightened until I was wrinkling it, but I didn’t care. He went on. “I know you didn’t want to do the test because you were worried it wouldn’t be me. That’s why I didn’t tell you. If it had come back negative, I would have kept that secret. I would have loved Emmy the same either way. I did it for you, so you could finally let go of what happened. Emmy is ours, by blood and by something so much more important.”

He stopped talking, but started moving. His cut came off, and then his shirt. Beneath it, across the left side of his chest, was a bandage. I knew, even before he started to peel back the tape holding it closed, what he’d done. That spot was the only part of his torso that had no tattoos. At least, it had been. The tattoo he revealed stole my breath. Despite the shiny cream covering it and the redness at its edges, it was the most beautiful tattoo I had ever seen. It was a jar, designed like a watercolor painting. Inside, were two glowing yellow shapes. Fireflies. “I decided a long time ago this spot,”

he said, indicating his chest, “was for you. I kept it bare all this time, because it was yours. Now, it belongs to you and Emmy.” For years, life had gone off course, taking me down a road I’d never expected. I’d accepted I would never get back to the dreams I’d had. I was prepared to accept a different happy, a joy entirely centered around Emmy. Looking at the ink on his chest, with the gifts he’d given me on the fourth anniversary of bringing my baby—our daughter—into the world, he gifted me those dreams back. “You did it,” I whispered. “What?”

“When we were just kids, you told me we were going to have all of this one day. You were going to become a Disciple, marry me, and we’d have kids together. You told me you’d make me the happiest wife ever.” I stared at him, having no idea how to react to everything I was feeling. “You did it.” He kissed me then, until my body was on fire, and I was ready for him to make me a different kind of happy while returning the favor. Right against my lips, he whispered, “Do anything for you, Firefly.” He would, I knew it. He’d claimed a Disciple’s daughter at six years old and made one of his own. He had already

done it when he made my entire world shift.

ENGAGE DISCIPLES’ DAUGHTERS #3 Jager’s Story

Drew Elyse spends her days trying to convince the world that she is, in fact, a Disney Princess, and her nights writing tear-jerking and smutty romance novels. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found over-analyzing every

line of a book, binge watching a series on Netflix, doing strange vocal warm ups before singing a variety of music styles, or screaming at the TV during a Chicago Blackhawks game. A graduate of Loyola University Chicago with a BA in English, she still lives in Chicago, IL where she was born and raised with her boyfriend and her fur babies Lola and Duncan.

Website: https://www.drewelyse.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DrewElyseAu Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/DrewElyseAutho

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/drewelys Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/drewelyse

The Dissonance Series Dissonance Harmony

The Disciples’ Daughters

Clutch Shift