VENDETTA_ A Bad Boy, Motorcycle - Devane, Lauren

VENDETTA

This book was previously available as BLOOD SECRETS: FALLEN MOTORCYCLE CLUB.

For Alicia. Everything about you is so bright and shining. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.

Also by Lauren Devane: Bolt: Storm Runners Motorcycle Club #1 Strike: Storm Runners Motorcycle Club #2

Blacklisted: Blacklisted Operations #1 Keeping You: Howler’s Motorcycle Club #1

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The characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons or events is coincidental and was not intended by the author.

Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty One Chapter Twenty Two Chapter Twenty Three Chapter Twenty Four Chapter Twenty Five Chapter Twenty Six Epilogue Author’s Note Bolt

Strike Blacklisted Keeping You Coming Soon

Emily The man with the scar pushed the heated metal of his pistol harder against my head and I dropped to my knees, ready for the bright pain that would flash through my skull when he pulled the trigger. Around us, the sand whipped,

churned by the wind that raced over the dunes and warmed by the too-hot sun overhead. Sweat dripped down my face and into my eyes, and then my vision blurred. I was about to die. I never expected to end the day naked with a gun to my head. Every gritty brush of sand was agony on my exposed, excruciatingly-sensitive skin. Regret poured through me, because I could have stayed at home instead of agreeing to take my first vacation in years to Mexico. Anywhere would be better than here. “Go,” my uncle had said, leaning over to chop up the meth, then suck it up his

nostril. “Get out of my hair for once.” The bald bastard was always the one who kept me from going anywhere. No way was I going to make it home to start college in the fall. All the money I’d squirreled away for years was for nothing. Should have bought those heels. Tears poured down my face, but I didn’t make a sound as the man behind me babbled. He was definitely high—really high, all dilated pupils and twitching fingers. I was lucky he hadn’t blown out the back of my skull yet. On my way to pick up a package from a friend of my uncle, I’d been grabbed off

the street and thrown into a dark windowed van by a man I’d never seen before. “Drive,” he hissed in Spanish to another man in the front seat. Then he yanked back my hair and stared into my face, his eyes hot on my skin. “This is the one.” But I wasn’t the one. I’d never seen him before in my life. Half an hour later, he was herding me up the stairs of the most beautiful home I’d ever seen. The pale walls glimmered like a mirage in front of the desert and the trees in the courtyard surrounded a fountain that I could hear over the wind. Binding my wrists behind my back, he’d marched me up the stairs and into a room

with five men sitting at a table, playing cards and drinking beer from longnecked bottles. “This is her?” A man in a white suit with one of those cowboy ties that look ridiculous on anyone who doesn’t own a ranch walked over and surveyed me. His eyes took in every inch of my body as I fought to not show fear or the disgust that was threatening to overtake fright. My stomach went sour and I regretted the avocado I’d stripped apart and devoured with my bare hands in the market that morning. “It is,” the scarred man who’d taken me off the street said. “You sure she’s not wearing a wire?”

asked one of the men at the table, setting down the cards in his hand and licking his thick lips while giving me the same aggressive stare as the other man. “One way to find out,” said the man in the white suit. He grabbed the front of my dress and yanked, tearing apart the buttons that held the two sides together. They hit the floor and scattered around my feet before the man snapped both straps and stripped the dress from me completely. “Now the panties,” said the man at the table. The scarred man, who was younger than the others and nervous, too, slid his fingers under the waistband and worked the panties down to my feet,

yanking on them until I stepped out. I’d lost my shoes in the struggle. I could feel the scarred man tremble against me, and then he reached out to pinch my nipples —hard. I yelped before I caught myself. “No wires,” said the older man with a smile. “She’s clean.” He heaved a sigh that made the tie he was wearing bounce on his barrel chest. “Pity we don’t have more time. She’s a pretty thing. But— business first.” The man who held me was trembling, though I couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or nerves. His breath was hot and sour on my face when he leaned forward to drag my dark, wavy hair back over my shoulders, letting each of the

men at the table look their fill. Courage—notably absent from my life until now—made me meet the eyes of each man. The door opened behind us and a woman walked in carrying a tray with six beer bottles on it. She walked around me as if I didn’t exist, set it on the table and served each man. Each nodded his head with respect before she turned around to leave. Her eyes went to me then, and widened. Her lips trembled and the hand that wasn’t pressing the tray to her side started to reach out. The scarred man yanked on my hair, forcing my head up, but I saw the woman drop her hand and depart. As the door closed behind her,

the man in the white suit said, “Santiago, take her out to the desert and shoot her. Dump her in the usual place.” Santiago nodded and grabbed my hand, pulling me outside and back into the van. He attached my wrist binds to the handle above the door, patted the gun in his waistband and said, “Don’t fight. I’ll like it, but you won’t like what happens.” We drove out on a rutted road that cut through the dunes. My mind whirled, staring out at the bleak landscape and I wondered if the desert kissed the ocean. I was a good swimmer, and I thought maybe I’d have a 50 percent shot at survival if he decided to kill me near the

water. Half-baked plans of diving into the waves to avoid his bullets rose and fell as we slowly traveled the road and there was nothing but golden sand. All I wanted was a few days in the sun, a kind of consolation prize in case I got home and found out Uncle Dale wasn’t keeping his part of the bargain. My chances of enrolling for the fall were tenuous at best if he didn’t give me the money, and agreeing to the trip he was so eager to push on me seemed like the right move. If not for that, I’d have been taking summer classes at Cal Tech and hanging out with my piece-of-crap boyfriend. Maybe this whole being shot in the desert nonsense did have an upside—at least I wouldn’t have to hear

Tommy cry about how he didn’t mean to cheat on me and since he was tweaking, it wasn’t really his fault. Piece of crap. “Beg me, bitch,” screamed the man forcing the black metal pistol against my head. It dug into my temple and I winced at the hard bite of it. “I said beg me.” I knew if I begged, I’d only have seconds to live. Trouble was, staying silent didn’t seem like the key to a long, happy life full of chubby grandchildren and a house that didn’t have water stains on the walls either. A low rumble in the distance invaded my head and seemed to fill up all the space around the dunes. I dug my nails into my palms and felt

Santiago shift, staring at the newcomer. “Stay on your knees. If you move, I’ll shoot,” the man said, his voice quieter and less confident. I was sure the guy was riding high on whatever he’d taken, but now he was trying to push the haze back. Whoever was coming to us on the big, black Harley, Santiago feared him. The handcuffs circling my wrists clanked when Santiago used his knee to push me down hard. Fuck. I was already messed up from being slammed in the head and dragged out into the desert. The last thing I needed was sand burns on top of the sunburn I was sure to get in sensitive areas. But with my hands behind me, I didn’t even have the chance

to catch myself. And sunburns don’t matter when you’re a corpse. I tasted sand, gritty in my mouth. There was blood, too. Hot and coppery behind my teeth like a slap in the face. To add insult to injury, the man above me kicked my butt hard with his boot. I sprawled forward and tried to roll to my back, but he put his foot on my leg. “Don’t move,” he said in a hard voice. I stilled. No longer able to see the bike, I listened to its roar as it got closer. The deep purr of the engine overwhelmed all other sounds except my harried breathing. With my head turned to the side, I was getting enough air—but my lungs felt

incapable of holding it. Panic swamped me as I wondered whether this newcomer was friend or foe. “What the fuck are you doing, Santiago?” I darted my eyes toward the biker and watched him slow to a stop. The man killed the engine and stood up, pushing a hand through his short brown hair. “I thought we had a meeting today and you fucking stand me up?” “No, Flash,” the man with the gun said. I could hear the nerves hot in his voice. Whoever this newcomer was, my kidnapper was definitely nervous—and that made me nervous too. Chills raced through my body that had nothing to do with the pain I was in. If the scariest man

I’d ever met—which, given my uncle’s job, is saying something—was terrified of this leather-clad biker, then I sure as sugar was too. “What do you mean, no? I was at your uncle’s. Where the fuck were you?” “You—you wanted me at the meeting?” His voice trembled like a little kid who’d just found out he was getting a new bike. “You’re going to take over when your father retires, so fuck yes I wanted you there. Instead I find you wasting time with this little bit of nothing.” It was ludicrous, but I took offense to what he said. I wasn’t a bit of nothing. From his angle, I was pretty sure he

could see my rear end, at least, which I’d earned with lots of squats. “I’ll waste her and we can go.” I flinched, turning my head more fully to the sand. Last sights weren’t something I’d thought about before, but mine definitely wasn’t going to be the biker or my executioner. “What did she do?” The biker’s tone was almost bored. “She’s a threat to the cartel, Flash.” Flash—what kind of name is that?— laughed. Really let loose with it. “A threat to the Deleons? Are you fucking kidding me? She’s probably still in school. Jesus, San, she’s just a kid.”

“But—.” “You obviously have the wrong woman. If you stopped tweaking all the fucking time, you’d know that she was just in the market to buy some shit. She’s probably one of those fucking rich kids on vacation, looking for some beads or baubles.” “Can’t let her go now, Flash. She saw the villa.” Santiago was scrambling to justify what couldn’t be justified. Flash sighed. “I’ll talk to Manuel. You know The Fallen don’t go in for this bullshit, San. Where are you from, kid?” A beat. Silence was a physical thing between us.

“I asked you a question.” This time his voice was steely. “Ca-California.” “What are you doing here?” “I’m on vacation at…at Two Palms Resort.” “See, San, she’s just a fucking scared kid who’s spending time at a resort. Girl, are you going to say shit to anyone?” “N-No.” I could feel my body wracked with shudders; if I was getting out of this alive, no one had told my nervous system about it yet. “Get up,” Flash said. I pushed my arms under me and slowly made my way to a standing position. I didn’t want to scare

the freak with the gun, but I wasn’t going to disobey my savior either. Once I was standing, I used my trembling fingers to shove the hair away from my face and met the biker’s gaze. Flash and I stared at each other with the dry desert air swirling around us. I didn’t know then, but my life had just shifted in ways I’d never imagined.

Flash Since Rafael Deleon died, I hated dealing with cartel motherfuckers even when things went smooth, but having to talk Santiago down put a bad taste in my mouth. Finding him holding a Glock to the head of some woman who couldn’t

have been more than 20 filled me with rage. I bit it back and killed the engine, setting the kickstand and climbing off to face the son of the Deleon Cartel boss. One thing you have to know when dealing with a cartel asshole is that they’re always fucking high—at least, the low-level shitheads. Gotta take that into account when you’re figuring out how to manage them. Even if Santiago hadn’t been flying and holding a gun, I still don’t think I would have drawn on him. His dad would go plumb crazy if I put a bullet in the kid’s head. Family, man. Without Rosaline’s help, I wouldn’t have

found him at all. She’d come out of the kitchen to where I was waiting on Manuel to finish his damn card game and handed me a glass of water. Then she leaned down and put her lips almost to my ear. “Santiago took some poor girl out into the desert.” Her hands twisted on the scarf she wore around her neck. “She looked young, nene.” I hated to see the strain on her face. I’d known Rosaline since I was a kid and my Dad dragged me to Mexico when he met with Rafael Deleon, the cartel boss who had died two years before—Manuel’s brother. I wished the old lady would come back to California and stay with The Fallen— she had a smart mouth that I liked—but

she’d never walk away from the Deleon family, even if a shithead was in charge now. “Why?” She hesitated, her eyes flicking over my shoulder to search the hall before focusing on me. “I don’t know. A misunderstanding.” “He high?” She didn’t say anything, just dropped her eyes to the ground. There it was. Santiago was having a bad trip and pulled some girl off the street to make her pay for his addiction. “Manuel let him take her,” Rosaline said. “Why?”

She shrugged and looked over her shoulder. “If you take the road behind the house, you’ll find him quickly.” Her eyes beseeched me to do something, and I sighed. I’d always been a sucker for her. “I’ll see you later,” I said. “If Manuel asks, just tell him that I went to talk to Santiago.” The old man would like that. He’d always wanted to get Santiago more into the business and less into coke, but his son was headed for trouble. That much was obvious. I hadn’t seen the boy step off the white horse in ten years. Last year he’d sliced up one of the housemaids and sworn up and down she was looking at him funny. Crazy fucker.

Striding from the villa, I started my bike and headed for the desert. The last thing I needed was another ride in the sun with my skin cooking in my heavy leather jacket, but fuck if the breeze didn’t cool me off and put me in a better frame of mind. If it wasn’t for Rosaline, I’d have stayed at the villa and let Santiago do whatever he had to with the girl, I told myself. I wasn’t sure if it was true, but it helped my mood to imagine a day where I didn’t have to deal with this horseshit. The engine of my bike rumbled under me on the bumpy road, and I tilted with the metal frame to stay upright. Nothing in the world like the feel of melding with

your bike, moving as one creature to reach a new destination. Even heading for possible disaster, I felt free. Unencumbered. Exactly as I was meant to be. Then I saw the figures in the distance. The sun was on the way down, but there was still enough light to take everything in through my sunglasses. Santiago jerked his head up when he saw me, then cuffed the girl in front of him, sending her sprawling. She was a small, slight thing, and I felt my protective instincts rise against my will. Pushing all that useless shit down, I steered toward them. The Deleons owned a lot of land and since Manuel

had taken over, the miles of desert had become a place where his lackeys could drag snitches and rats out back and put them down like diseased dogs. Once the desert started eating away at a body, no one was ever going to find it again. What the sand didn’t take down, the crows finished off once it was cool enough to scavenge. “What the fuck are you doing, Santiago?” I hoped the weasely man wasn’t so high he didn’t recognize me. The last thing I needed was a hot slug buried in my chest because I listened to an old lady who didn’t want some poor girl shot. I shut off my bike and climbed off, feeling the sand shift under my boots.

San’s eyes lit up, so I asked him why he stood me up for a meeting he was never supposed to be a part of. Respect went a long way with men in the cartel, but twitchy bastards like San liked it more than most. His muscles relaxed a little at the question. It went against my personal code to make Santiago happy, but I was willing to break it if both the girl and I were able to walk out of the desert. She looked like a college student—the parts I could see at least. Tanned skin that looked soft to the touch was tinged rosy from the sun and her ass. Well. Her ass was something I’d have given serious consideration if there wasn’t a Beretta in play.

“No, Flash.” I knew if I’d had plans to meet with him, he wouldn’t have come out here. Hell, he’d probably have opted to spend the day mostly sober instead of cruising around looking for little girls to beat and murder. San had a lot of annoying qualities, but one of the worst was the way he idolized The Fallen Motorcycle Club. You couldn’t beat him off with a stick when we rolled up to his father’s villa to talk cash or coke. “You—you wanted me at the meeting?” I would’ve felt bad for the kid if he wasn’t such a waste of air. I wasn’t in charge of the MC, but I sure as fuck hoped we’d vote to cut our ties to the

cartel before Manuel turned in for the long dirt nap, the way we should have when his brother Rafael died. This guy wasn’t going to be stable enough to man a lemonade stand, let alone take over one of the biggest operations in Mexico. “I’ll waste her and we can go.” Fuck. The girl was nothing to me, but I didn’t want to see her brains sprayed out over the sand. “What did she do?” Buying time should have been my middle name, because I was spinning shit faster than a spider. I had nothing to say—if Manuel had sanctioned her murder, I doubted I’d be able to get her out of the villa alive anyway.

“She’s a threat to the cartel, Flash.” I lost my cool then and started laughing. It rolled out of me like helium from a balloon and I let him see just how crazy he sounded. I didn’t even have to see her face—which was kissing the sand—to know she wasn’t a threat. “A threat to the Deleons? Are you fucking kidding me? She’s probably still in school. Jesus, San, she’s just a kid.” His face wavered and the hand with the gun relaxed. I felt my stomach loosen and took a step toward him. Whether or not I was willing to throw myself at San and disarm him was a question I couldn’t answer, but I wanted the option. Of course, taking it meant that Manuel would kill me and the girl before going

after my brothers. So I opted to try to talk him down. “Can’t let her go now, Flash. She saw the villa.” I sighed, not looking forward to the bullshit this little rescue mission was going to put me through. “I’ll talk to Manuel. You know The Fallen don’t go in for this bullshit, San. Where are you from, kid?” She didn’t answer for a minute and I wanted to clench my fists with frustration. Didn’t she know that I was her only ticket out of here? “I asked you a question.” I put a hard edge on my voice; if she was more scared of me than San, she might

develop a spine. “Ca-California.” “What are you doing here?” “I’m on vacation at…at Two Palms Resort.” “See, San, she’s just a fucking scared kid who’s spending time at a resort. Girl, are you going to say shit to anyone?” “N-No.” Her body was shaking and the absurd urge to comfort her ripped through me. I put up a wall to stop it. Three things in life I didn’t do: betray The Fallen, snort coke, and give a fuck about women who weren’t related to me. Rosaline asked me to save her, I reminded myself. That was the only

reason I was here—because of Rosaline, who might as well have been a distant aunt. “Get up.” She obeyed, her arms pushing down so that her body rose. Judiciously keeping my eyes from her tits, I studied her face. Unsteadily, she placed her feet on the ground and then rose from a crouch, looking into my eyes and lifting her chin in quiet defiance. Holy shit. Her eyes were deep, shimmering green. The entire world seemed to shrink to a pinpoint and then rapidly expand as I stared into them. I didn’t know it then, but the girl was going to destroy me.

Emily “I’m taking the girl.” I still couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but I knew Flash wasn’t playing games. The bastard who grabbed me must have known it too, because he backed up a few steps before the biker strode

forward and took me by my arm. I winced. The kidnapper hadn’t been gentle and I knew my limb would be ringed with bruises by the morning. Flash must have noticed, because his grip immediately loosened and I felt some of the tension trickle out of my body. Whatever else he was, this man wasn’t taking pleasure from my pain. “Where are her clothes?” “What?” Santiago stepped forward and I cringed. I didn’t want him anywhere near me. Though anger was fueling me, there was still fear burning under it, pooling in every one of the bruises he’d put on my body. My skin was sensitive where the biker held it, despite the

unexpected gentleness of his touch, because the sun’s glare had kissed it with a slight burn. All week, I’d laid out on the beach slathered in sunscreen, but this morning I’d reasoned that I didn’t need it. Wrong, Emily. “Her clothes. Why isn’t she wearing clothes?” “I stripped her at the villa,” he said, a whine coating every word. “Dad wanted to make sure that she wasn’t wearing a wire.” “I’m sure he was very concerned,” said Flash, sardonic and disbelieving. He was right, of course. The man in the white suit hardly seemed concerned

about me, and he knew as well as I did that no wire was worn. All he wanted was to get back to his game and to get his dragon-chasing son off his back. Remembering the way a sour feeling had settled in my stomach when he told Santiago to get rid of me, I shuddered. My life wasn’t much, but I wanted the opportunity to live it. “Why is everyone giving me shit about this?” Santiago dropped his arms to his sides and pouted like an overgrown child. Maybe I should have been less scared of him, but seeing a man with the emotional control of a kindergartener holding a gun didn’t exactly reassure me. His face was harsh with the sun setting

behind him, creating shadows below his cheekbones. His emaciated figure reminded me of my uncle. I wondered whether I would ever see the old man again. “I’m not giving you shit.” Flash’s voice changed so that it was softer, gentler. Coaxing. He obviously had experience talking people down. That makes two of us. I’d tried to reason with Santiago from the moment he’d pushed me out of the van onto the sand of the dune, but it hadn’t worked. He’d just called me a whore and gripped my hair tight enough that I could feel strands pulling away from my scalp. “She’s dangerous,” he insisted, but his

voice shook like he wasn’t as sure as he had been. “Where did you find her?” “Downtown. Right where she was supposed to be. We were tipped off…” He glanced at me with a confused look on his face. “Dad can explain it. But she knew me, Flash. She stared right at me.” I hadn’t even noticed him before he grabbed me. “What were you doing at the market? Were you meeting someone?” Flash’s tone warned me to be as conciliatory as he was. I looked down at my feet in the sand and resisted the urge to cover my skin. The setting sun still shot the last of its rays over the desert and I could feel

them prickle on my flesh. For an hour before he’d drawn the gun to shoot me, Santiago had ranted at me, blaming me for his failures. None of it made sense, but I was grateful for it now that there was a light at the end of the tunnel. If he’d shot me in the first five minutes, all Flash would have found was a corpse. “I’m sorry,” I said, soft words slipping out like water from my cracked lips. “I wasn’t meeting anyone. I was just looking for something to send home to my boyfriend.” “Why did you stare at Santiago?” Flash’s hand tightened imperceptibly on my arm. “He’s—he’s a handsome man.” The

words sounded sincere, but it made me sick to speak them. It was like trying desperately to keep down medicine when you’re already ill, and it left the same bad taste in my mouth. But no words were worth more than my life. “See? She’s just a dumb kid.” Flash and Santiago laughed together as the wind picked up and more sand blew around us. Unwilling to raise my arms and draw attention to myself, I couldn’t prevent it from abrading my skin and drying out my eyes, even though I closed them quickly. “Come on,” Flash said, pulling me toward his bike. “Let’s get home, clear shit up with your dad and do the deal. I need to get back to The Fallen.”

He ushered me to his bike, sat down and pulled me on behind him. “Hold on tight,” he said, his words almost lost in the whip of the wind around us. I nodded and wrapped my arms around his torso, knotting my fingers against the hard metal of his jacket zipper. From our left, Santiago watched us mount the Harley, then stepped into his van and took off for the villa, kicking up sand in his wake. “Thank you,” I whispered, pressing my body against his and speaking directly into his ear as he started the engine. Flash stiffened, but didn’t reply. My ass vibrated on the leather seat as the motorcycle rumbled over the sandswept road that led back to the lighted

villa in the encroaching darkness. Flash didn’t hurry. He navigated his bike gently over the bumps and cracks in the road. Since I needed time to process what had happened, I was grateful. I was also kind of aroused. Despite the dark day I’d had, I couldn’t deny my physical response to the man who’d saved me—though whether I’d make it home was still very much in question. For now, though, my nipples brushed the smooth leather and rough patches on the back of his jacket, moving against them as the bike bobbed up and down. I couldn’t read them without moving away, and it didn’t seem likely that I’d be able to in the dim light

anyway. So I tucked my thighs against the soft fabric of his jeans, leaned my face against his shoulder and let him drive me out of the desert. By the time the guard opened the gate and Flash drove the bike up the winding road, I was shaking. The combination of night wind and sunburned skin wasn’t doing much for my internal thermostat. My rescuer turned to look at me after I climbed off the bike on unsteady legs. “Are you doing okay?” I laughed in a harsh burst. “Better than an hour ago.” “What’s your name?” “Emily. Emily Daniels.”

“Don’t talk unless you’re directly questioned. Don’t look anyone in the eyes. Try to disappear.” His head was tilted toward me while he issued instructions. He didn’t look to see whether I intended to obey. Obviously he was a man who expected obedience. In this, at least, I intended to give it to him. “Here.” He took off his jacket and laid it over the chrome handlebars, then pulled off his vest and put it on top of the jacket. Reaching for the hem of his white t-shirt, he pulled it over his head and I fought to keep my jaw closed. Flash was the sexiest man I’d ever seen. After a lifetime spent around pale, soft

men and too-thin junkies, it was a shock to my system to see the hard, muscled chest of a real man. No speckled youth here. No. Flash was all sinew and lean grace as the shirt skimmed over his tanned body. Once it was in his hands, he offered it to me. I chided myself for wanting to reach out and run my fingers down his chest to the beginning of his happy trail above the button of his jeans. “Pull this on. We’ll get you some clothes once we’re out of here.” He slid his vest and jacket back on, then walked up the stairs. I could read the patch now: The Fallen Motorcycle Club. Since our height difference was at least a foot, the t-shirt covered all the parts of

me that I wanted to keep to myself. Well, mostly to myself. I thought about the tattoo that wrapped around Flash’s arm and over his chest, wondering what it would look like if he was above me in bed, pounding in to me while I wrapped my legs around him and—. No. This wasn’t the time for my schoolgirl fantasies about a man that I’d never get to have. Even if he was the sexiest person I’d seen in my life. Even if he had walked up to a madman and insisted on freeing me. I ran a hand through my hair and felt the grit of the sand against my fingers. Not having access to a mirror meant I had no idea how bruised I was, but I could feel

swelling on my face and tenderness throughout my body. Flash waited at the top of the stairs, then put his hand at the small of my back. The gesture radiated throughout my body and gave me hope that maybe, just maybe, everything would work out. If I made it out of this alive, I was going to grab my purse from the resort, kiss Mexico goodbye and head home to California. Working for my uncle was better than this, even if only a little.

Flash We were fucked. When the girl leaned her entire body against mine and put her mouth close enough to my ear that she almost kissed it, I got an erection the size of Montana.

Clenching my thighs together, I ignored her lush body and its heat against my back while we made our way out of the desert. Her perky tits pressed against my jacket when she molded her body to mine, obeying my order to hold on tight. If they were giving out awards for selfcontrol, I’d get first fucking place. A worse time to lust after a woman didn’t exist and, if it did, I’d never been in it. No matter what Manuel said, I was going to get her out of the compound and to safety before I beat it back home to The Fallen and took whatever punishment the club deemed necessary for getting involved and putting us in the spotlight with the cartel.

It wasn’t like any of The Fallen were actually scared of Manuel or the rest of his thugs. When Rafael, Manuel’s brother, was still alive, we did a nice little business with them running cocaine over the border. My father and Rafael had been good friends for years—the man was nothing but intelligent and kind. He ruled the Deleon Cartel with an iron fist, not falling prey to the greed and vice that brought down so many others. In the last twenty years, we’d worked the whole operation out neat and tidy so that there was barely a risk anymore on either side. Then Rafael got sick real fast more than a year ago. He called Dad and Piston, the president of The Fallen, to say

goodbye and then he was gone. Unlike other cartels that chose leaders based on seniority and strength, the Deleon Cartel held to blood—so Manuel took over. He wasn’t the kind of man you’d trust with a brother’s life, but Piston said he was good enough to do business with. Truth was, I didn’t want to lose the money we got for running coke, either. So even though I’d have personally backed away when shit changed, I went with the club’s vote. Hell, I would have gone with any vote The Fallen made. The road is long and we are few, but we are one. Watching my t-shirt slide down the girl’s golden body disappointed me in a sick

way. Here she was, fresh from almost being murdered and probably terrified, and I was lusting after her like a horny old man. It had been years since I’d seen a body that nice; displayed in the soft lights of the patio, she was firm with full tits and a curvy hips. Her little pink nipples were hard and begging for my mouth—but it wasn’t the time or the place. Or the right woman. Still, my hand gravitated to her back when she finally caught up with me on the stairs. Her nerves were palpable and it would’ve been better for both of us if she was calm, cool, collected. Manuel would smell fear and pounce like a

hungry tiger, taking her out before she had a chance to blink those big green eyes that sent a shockwave straight through my chest. Maybe I shouldn’t have cared; maybe it would have been better if I’d told Rosaline there was nothing I could do, talked to Manuel and left right away. But here we were. Santiago had arrived ahead of us and was sitting next to his father, their heads bent together. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, so I cleared my throat to let them know I was there, wishing I’d had time to eavesdrop. Two pairs of brown eyes looked up, took me in and then zeroed in on the girl.

“Didn’t know you planned to have Santiago at our unscheduled meeting,” Manuel said, his words slow as molasses. I’d shown up days early and he wasn’t happy when I walked through the door. I wasn’t fooling him now, either. The old man knew that I’d gone out there for something other than retrieving his good-for-nothing son and dragging him in here for a quick talk about how to handle the increased volume being pumped out of Columbia. “Piston thought it was a good idea to get him prepped. You want him to take over the operation after you, right?” Piston didn’t think it was a good idea to have Santiago do anything. He agreed with me that the man was a bomb just waiting for

an activation code, but we’d deal with that later. Right now, what mattered was getting the girl out and sending her far away from Manuel. The cartel leader nodded, but the shrewd look didn’t leave his eyes. Silently, we agreed that each of us was aware of the subterfuge. We weren’t going to hash it out in front of the unstable man whose fingers twitched and fluttered nervously in his lap. I’d never been more glad that my father kept me away from chemicals. We deal, but we don’t indulge. “We need to get her out of here so we can talk business.” Manuel pressed a button on his smartphone and moments later a man in a dark suit walked through

the door. “What are you going to do with her?” His smile grew when I asked the question, and I silently cursed my big mouth. Caring about whether she lived or died gave him power over me that he didn’t deserve. Power I didn’t want to give up. “She was here. She shouldn’t have been here.” The veneer of sorrow he wore like a mask wasn’t fooling me. “She’ll have to go back to the desert.” There was something else to this, but digging wasn’t going to get me and the girl out alive. Emily jerked at the words, and I knew then that she could speak Spanish. Her

movement was small enough to be imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t in contact with her body, and a warm sense of approval rolled over me. I liked that she wasn’t a weeping mess on the floor. I’d seen too many women get frantic over shit that barely mattered. That, I couldn’t do anything with. This girl’s calm demeanor meant she still had a shot. “It’s a shame to waste her,” I said, and Manuel smiled. Now I was speaking his language. “She’s got legs like a fucking runway model.” I reached down and grabbed her ass, raking her body with a hot stare designed to let Manuel see what I wanted from her. “What if I take her off your hands?”

“Too dangerous. You can’t keep the woman forever.” “Not forever,” I said, “but come on man. Look at this bitch. Let me have a night with her before you waste her.” I made sure to keep my tone full of respect. When his smile widened, I winced on the inside and maintained a straight face. “What do I get out of your night?” “I’ll reduce our cut.” Fuck, Piston’s going to rip my head off. “Instead of 40 percent, give us 35.” “You’d take a five percent cut for a little pussy?” Right when I thought he’d say no, his expression changed. Manuel liked money, and cutting the take by five percent would give him a lot more

green. “I like the way her tits bounce when she’s scared.” My mom would have smacked me across the face if she’d heard those words come out my mouth, but she wasn’t in Mexico. “Fine, then.” Manuel waved at the man who’d walked in. “Five percent. One night. You have to finish the job yourself in the morning, though.” “Easy enough. Get Rosaline to come take her and get her cleaned up. I don’t want to fuck a dirty bitch.” The words were stale in my mouth, but it sounds like I meant every one. With a wave of his hand, Manuel dismissed the goon who’d come into the

room to take the girl. Rosaline came in from the side door moments later— likely summoned with his fucking smartphone—and wrapped her arm around Emily, ushering her out of the room. When their footsteps faded, Manuel gestured to me. “Sit down, my friend. Too much has happened today. Drink?” I’m not your friend, your oily motherfucker. “Whiskey.” I needed the burn to clear out the dryness left behind from breathing in the desert for long minutes. Sinking into one of the comfortable black chairs, I took the glass Santiago handed me, threw back the liquor and drew a deep breath. He watched every

move through his puffy eyes. “So how much more are we talking?” “At least two million,” Manuel said, handing me a folder. “We’re going to need at least ten more men and the timeline was pushed back by a week.” “Why was it pushed back? Couldn’t they send the normal amount and hold the next for another shipment?” Having to wait on the coke meant nervous customers, people who’d leave and find another way to get their fix. Piston hated that shit and I didn’t relish spending weeks chasing down junkies, especially if some of the dealers jumped ship in the meantime. We’d done the legwork to clear those

other fuckers out of our territory. The last thing I wanted was some of them slipping back in through the cracks. “No point,” Santiago said, looking at his father for approval. When he got the nod, he spoke with more confidence. “We’re increasing all the shipments from now on, not just this one. With the new shit from Columbia, it shouldn’t be a problem.” “Are you fucking kidding me?” My temper flared and I killed it before it had time to boil. Now wasn’t the time to go nuclear. “I don’t know for sure that we can even move that much every quarter. People aren’t doing coke like they used to.” Meth was rampant in the city.

Cheaper, dirtier and easy to move, we were having enough trouble selling the same amounts to our usual guys. No matter how many meth dealers Piston personally escorted to the LA city limits, it was never enough. “Then get another chapter of the club to come out and take some off your hands. I don’t care how you do it.” Manuel took a sip of his own drink, closing his eyes as he lowered the glass from his mouth. When they opened again, they were stone cold. “But get it done. Or we’ll find someone who can.” You don’t end a contract with the Deleon Cartel without a damn good reason. Walking away with everyone alive is

about as likely as me switching out my ride for one of the prospect’s rat bikes. Indicating that The Fallen couldn’t handle that kind of volume was like putting a price on my brother’s heads. Most people in our line of work didn’t get retirement packages, and I wasn’t going to another fucking funeral. Not going to happen. “We can handle it,” I said, my mind working overtime to figure out how we were going to distribute the coke and, more importantly, how the hell I was supposed to get that girl out of here without fucking everything up between the cartel and The Fallen. No solutions appeared like magic in my

head, so I settled in, sipped my whiskey and started working out the dates and times for pickup.

Emily “This will help,” the woman said, smoothing a cooling balm over my skin. Her English was unaccented and her hands were gentle. Every place the sun had burned me was slowly covered in the cool blue gel she’d carried into the

room with a glass of iced mineral water and some chicken noodle soup. I wondered whether she was ashamed of what her employers had done to me, because every time I looked at her, she darted her eyes away as if she didn’t want me to catch her staring. I didn’t mind, though. It had been years since a woman had touched me so gently—since I was nine and my parents died in a car accident. When she smoothed a hand down my hair, arranging the rumpled strands, I wanted to weep. “Thank you.” Even if she worked for the people who were going to kill me, I didn’t want to be rude to her. She’d wrapped her arms around me when we

walked into the bedroom and god knew I needed to be held then. My body shook while she tucked me in a warm embrace, careful not to squeeze too hard where my ribs were bluing. “You’ll be okay, Esme,” the woman whispered into my hair. I didn’t correct her on my name, because honestly, what did it matter? Hot tears slid from her eyes and down her cheeks to splash on my shoulder. After long moments passed, she pulled away, took a deep breath and started a shower for me. I dropped the t-shirt to the ground and immediately missed the masculine scent of the man who’d given it to me. His spicy cologne clung to the cotton and

helped me stay calm when the men in the other room stared at me and discussed me as if I were a piece of choice meat. While they talked about my death like it was a task I’d inconvenienced them with. Steady, steady. I stayed in the shower until the woman with the kind eyes pulled me out, gently grasping my hand and helping me back into the bedroom. There, she wrapped me in a warm, white towel, settled me on the bed, and sat behind me, brushing my hair in long strokes. I basked in the attention, sitting still and taking deep breaths while she worked out all the knots that had been tangled together by

the wind. Once my skin was dry, she applied the balm and told me to sit without moving until it dried. I was more than willing to oblige. My skin felt the way it did when I was a little girl and got pneumonia. It was one of my earliest memories: my mother on the phone with my father, asking him whether it was safe to take me to the hospital. The cool flow of saline from the IV into my veins and the way the room had turned cold once the fever broke. I missed my mother. “Eat this,” Rosaline said, pushing the soup toward me across the table. I took it gratefully and spooned some of the

warm liquid between my lips. It soothed my aching throat and made my limbs feel heavy. So tired. A sip of the mineral water helped clear away even more of the pain that had erupted when I’d screamed as Santiago dragged me across the desert. “What else do you need?” Her voice was soft. She still wouldn’t meet my eyes. I didn’t need anything, unless you counted a way out as something, and I doubted she’d be able to bring me that on a plastic tray. Doing what I’ve done for the past almost decade, you can’t help but find trouble—but this was something else. Not a punch to the face.

This was real, true, I-might-die danger. As I ate the soup and the woman watched me with a soft expression, I reflected on all the things I’d left undone. So many little things that I wanted to do, but had put off until my life was more stable. Until I had actually started taking classes and walked away from working for my uncle. Until I figured out what I wanted to do with my life. Until I felt ready. There’s nothing like imminent death to make you ready and suddenly I wished the entire world was at my fingertips. I wanted to take a road trip through New England. I wanted to try my hand at making baked Alaska, even though I

wasn’t sure what it was exactly. I wanted an orgasm that came from something other than a vibrator or my own hands. That’s right, Tommy. Maybe if you’d been a little better at working it down there, I’d have given it up to you. Or maybe not. I’d always wanted to feel that thing. The tug that lets you know the man you’ve reaching for wants you to touch him as much as you want to lay your hands on his skin. An ache. Real desire. With Tommy, I mostly wanted him to stop licking my neck so that I could watch The Gilmore Girls reruns before getting back to work. I doubted anyone in this prison was

going to let me into the kitchen to make baked Alaska. A fall road trip on winding byways through old mountain towns seemed even less likely. But an orgasm…I had an idea where I could get one of those. Maybe it was insanity to be thinking about Flash’s mouth between my legs when the chances of getting out alive were so slim, but I couldn’t help it. For the first time in my life, I’d felt a pulse of desire that was more than just a slight warmth. It was like a bolt of lightning that leapt out of a clear, blue sky to sizzle over my skin. Soothed and fed, the lust that had begun burning for him deep inside me was even stronger.

But I didn’t think he’d cooperate. Sure, he talked a good game in front of my kidnapper and the other man. He said he wanted to fuck me. But I knew it was all a show, even as the words left his lips. When Flash looked at me outside, I hadn’t seen a hint of lust break through his stoic expression. “Where are you from?” Her voice broke into my admittedly out of place thoughts and brought me back to the present. “California. Malibu.” Saying the name of my hometown started a wave of nostalgia. I wanted to be there, sitting at my window and watching the tide roll in. Not here, sore and tender and eating soup in the middle of the summer.

Honestly, I hadn’t even wanted to come to Mexico in the first place—Dale booked the trip without telling me as a reward for an exceptional quarter. Amazing soup, though. “Flash will take you home. He’s always been a good man.” The quiet confidence in her voice bolstered my flagging nerves. “Have you known him for a long time?” She hesitated before speaking. “Since he was a little boy. His father used to bring him down to the villa for work.” “With Manuel?” “No,” she said, her eyes darkening. “He’s only been in charge a short time.”

The woman cocked her ear toward the door, as if listening for an interloper. “His brother used to be in charge. He was a good man. A better man.” “What was Flash like as a kid?” The information didn’t matter very much, but it was better than discussing my imminent murder or escape. I didn’t want to know anything about the cartel beyond what I already did—the way I figured it, knowing less meant a higher chance of survival once Flash broke me out of here. “Curious. He used to run around the yard with the children of the men who worked here.” Sorrow was plain on her face, though the story wasn’t sad. “They’d

play soccer or skim their fingers over the motorcycles parked in the driveway.” “So he loved bikes then, too?” “Yes. He’s a good boy. Once a worker’s son hit a baseball into Manuel’s car and Flash took the blame—and the beating.” “Why?” “He knew the worker’s son would be killed. If Manuel had killed Flash, it would have started a war with The Fallen. The old leader of the cartel wouldn’t have allowed that.” “Manuel beat a child?” “Flash’s father stopped the beating as soon as he knew, but the poor boy had

two black eyes by the time it was all said and done.” I pictured the child Flash had been, imagined him defiant even as the fist came down on his face. Was there relief in his eyes when he heard his father’s voice over the sounds of the punches? Rage rippled under my skin as I thought about the man upstairs. What kind of monster beats a child? What kind of monster orders innocent women murdered for no reason other than mistaken identity? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” “It’s not your fault.” Forcing a smile, I finished the soup and set my spoon back in the bowl. “Am I safe here?”

“Until morning.” Her hands moved restlessly in her lap, twisting and releasing her skirt. “Do you think I could sleep until Flash comes?” “Of course.” Instantly she was on her feet and pulling back the covers on the bed. I slipped between them and sighed at the feel of the cool cotton against the parts of my body revealed by the towel. Rosaline leaned down and brushed my hair back off my forehead. Her lotion smelled like roses, like comfort, and her skin was cool on mine. “Sleep well, little one,” she said. “I promise, he’ll keep you safe.” Her lips pressed against my forehead for a

moment, then she moved away. I opened my eyes and saw her leave through the door. The tray on the table and my t-shirt went with her. There in the dark, I closed my eyes and calmed my breathing. After my parents died and I went to live with Uncle Dale, the dark was the only refuge from the monsters that he brought into the house night after night—well, the dark and the lock on my bedroom door. Other little girls had been scared of the sun setting and shadows being cast onto the walls of their rooms. Not me. I’d welcomed the dark, wrapped myself in it. Then I’d made myself into a different kind of monster. Someone who had no

reason to be scared, because I was too valuable to break. Or so I thought until I felt Santiago’s fingers tangle in my hair and his hand wrap around my arm, yanking me back toward the van that brought me here. Even with the pain in my head and the hard flutter of my heart in my chest, I’d been awed by the villa, with its light smell of lemon wax clinging to the hardwood floors. In that beautiful place that stretched out in front of me, I’d learned that there were other kinds of monsters. I could feel my chest getting tight, so I dug my fingers into the cool sheets and counted to three. One. Two. Three. Each

count was a breath. Each count was a memory that grounded me. The soft feel of my mom’s fingers in mine on the beach. The way a man with dark hair had looked at me and laughed, showing me a bird in an apple tree. The first time my boyfriend Tommy kissed me, before he decided he preferred crystal and descended into darkness with all the rest. Then I let it go. Rising from the bed, I tested the windows with a light touch, not looking to set off any alarms and get a bullet in my head for the trouble. Nothing opened. The door was locked. All I could do was wait for Flash and hope he had a

better plan than waiting until morning and leaving my corpse behind. Oddly, I didn’t think he would. Something about him seemed too honorable for that. The longer I lie in bed, the more my thoughts turned from dark things to those of a more sensual nature. If things were different and Flash hadn’t been driving me away from death, would he have stopped and let me sit in front of him on the bike, let me sink down onto him while his teeth teased my lips? Thinking of his mouth on mine, I sighed and settled deeper into the mattress. Long moments passed, but he never came through the door. It was just me and an empty room.

So I closed my eyes and slept.

Flash Pushing open the door, I stepped through and my eyes darted around the room. There were no hulking figures hidden in the shadowed corners, just the girl tucked in quilts on the bed, sleeping with both arms wrapped around herself. Not

surprising, after what she’d been through. It was amazing she was able to sleep at all. Manuel hadn’t shown any inclination to let me take Emily back to the club, even when I insisted that The Fallen could keep her in line. He’d acted like dealing with her in the morning was some kind of loyalty test, the kind his predecessor never required. And that pissed me the fuck off. I don’t owe any loyalty to the cartel. All of my loyalty is to my father and brothers in The Fallen. There was no room for anyone else. As if she sensed my presence, Emily tossed in her sleep, knocking the covers away as she turned toward me. The long

line of her body was hidden in the white towel wrapped loosely around her still form. Dark, glossy hair fell in waves around a face that must have been sculpted on one of the lord’s best days. Her skin was a smooth and tan, with just a hint of red from the sun she’d been subjected to in the desert. The heritage that gave her the dark chestnut hair and thick, black eyelashes must have provided enough sun resistance to help keep her from burning to a crisp. Standing there in the dark, I thought about Piston and The Fallen. My brothers were going to furious at me when I strolled back into the club with a useless woman and either way less money for our next run at best or cartel

thugs on my heels at worst. No doubt they’d draw and meet me at the front door, ready to defend, but I was in for an ass-kicking when church rolled around. Making decisions solo wasn’t my job. But I couldn’t dread getting back to LA right now, not when time was of the essence. When the guard shifts changed, we needed to get the fuck out of dodge before it was too late to save her—or myself. For the first time, I was thankful that the Pres had elected to send me here enough in the past year that I was familiar with the current guard rotation. Never thought I’d have to use the information, though. Sighing, I watched her eyes roll under

her lids. I wondered whether she was having a nightmare. Nothing I could do about it—I had enough shit on my plate. Going against Manuel’s wishes was going to stir up some trouble that I wasn’t ready to deal with, but no matter how tarnished I’d become since I left the Army, I couldn’t leave an innocent girl to die. Not ever. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I reached out and placed a hand on her arm. She came awake without any of the yawning or stretching I expected. One moment she was asleep, then she wasn’t. Her eyes were open and focused on me, a clear, startling green that reached to the darkest

parts of me and made them feel lighter somehow. Being near her was like the drugs my dad warned me away from for so long—no question, the girl could get addictive if I let her. “I’m sorry for the things I said.” I hadn’t meant to lead with that, but it was still true. Piston can treat women like they’re interchangeable sluts who ride his lap for coke, but I’ve never seen it that way. Speaking to her like she was a body without a brain in front of Manuel had been necessary, but distasteful. I may wear the 1% patch, but that doesn’t mean I’m a bad guy. “You had to.” She tilted her head to the side, then pushed the hair back out of her

face. Every time she examined me, it felt like she was pulling me apart and looking to see all the things I kept hidden. Something about her rocked me and I fucking hated it—but I couldn’t pull away. It was as intoxicating as the first drink I shared with Piston when we were idiot kids nipping at the patched brothers’ heels. I’d expected tears and pleas, but instead she met me with a steady gaze and words of absolution. Again, I gave thanks for the fact that she was stronger than she looked. It meant we might have a chance of getting out alive. She put out her hand. Reaching out, I grasped it, noticed how much smaller

than mine it was. Her bones were fine, delicate. Too delicate for a place like this. With a short tug, I pulled her into a sitting position. “What are we going to do?” “I’m not putting a bullet in your head,” I said, wanting to reassure her of that fact right away. “Everything went to shit after you left. Manuel is using your death as some kind of test that I’m about to fuck up. Don’t get me wrong, Emmy, I intend for both of us to get out of here…but you have to do exactly what I say.” “I’ll do anything.” Her face had tightened when I’d called her Emmy, but she didn’t say a word. Smart girl. “For now, you need to get some sleep.

Shifts change near dawn and I want to get out of here while that’s going down.” “Why? Isn’t that double the guards?” Her eyes were more intelligent than any of the sweetbutts I’d fucked since joining The Fallen. For some reason, banging women who climbed all over me at parties didn’t give me much of a charge. It was just a way to empty my nuts and the women knew it. They just wanted an orgasm or an ounce, even though I wasn’t handing out the second. This girl wouldn’t be the kind to accept an ounce or a bounce, I suspected. It was there in the clean lines of her hair and the delicate skin on her face. I doubted she’d so much as smoked a blunt. We

lived a hard life and the women who ran with us didn’t have soap-fresh faces and lips like an angel. Hers were pink and curved, the bottom one heavier than the top. I wanted to pull her into my lap and nibble on it. “It’s early in the morning and they’re probably all still hung over from last night. We can grab the bike and take off before they notice. I hope.” “What if they notice?” “Then keep your head down, Emmy.” Her eyes flashed again and I felt my groin stir. Fuck, she was sexy. Too sexy. “Are you going to get in trouble for this?”

“If I said yes, would you want me to leave you here?” She had to know that I was her only way out. The only thing that awaited her was a long dirt nap if she wasn’t on the back of my bike before Manuel woke to drag her out so I could shoot her, ending all that light and sparkle. She cocked her head to the side and looked at me, seeming to withdraw deeper into the sheets. My intention hadn’t been to scare her, but it was better she reconcile herself to the plan now. Hesitations got men killed. “No.” “Didn’t think so.” Once I got back, Piston was going to smoke me for breaking our truce with the cartel. He

didn’t have much use for women, especially good girls. That’s if my Dad didn’t finish me off first. He’d been working with the Deleon Cartel his whole life without a misstep, and I fully expected to end up with his boot in my ass. “You should sleep until morning. It’s not going to do you any good to stay up all night worrying.” Unsure why I cared whether she got rest, I searched her face again. Beautiful, but nothing to elicit the kind of reaction I was having to her body, her sweet scent. “Thanks,” she said, and wiggled over so there was space next to her. When she moved, I caught a flash of her thighs and

the shadowy area above. Fuck. “You can lie down with me, too.” “I’ll take the chair.” I sure as hell wasn’t going to top off what was probably the worst day of her life by trying to screw her, no matter how much my erection wanted me to hop in and grind against her. Would she part her legs just a little so I could shove down my jeans and slide against her swollen cleft? Would she dig her nails into my back? “You don’t have to.” “It’s for the best.” I saw the light dawn in her eyes at my dark tone. Then she smiled with a sexy twist of her lips that made it that much harder to leave her alone in that bed. Every time I thought I

knew what to expect from her, she gave me something else. “You’re a good man.” “I’m not,” I told her. No reason she should have illusions about me. “But I’m not going to force you, either.” Emily nodded and curled up, her eyes still open. Light slipping in from the courtyard made them gleam in the blackness. I took up a seat at the table and listened for any sign that someone could be coming. Not a single doubt roosted in my mind that before we were gone, things were going to get much, much worse.

Emily I twisted again, unable to sleep. The sheets were tangled around me from all the moving I’d done since Flash entered the room. Frustrated, I pushed down the quilt, pulled off the top sheet and snapped it into the air, letting it flutter

down over my body. Adrenaline had pushed its way back into me and my mind was done with sleep for the night. I wondered if this was how men on death row felt—keyed up and ready for the end. Flash was sitting sideways in the dainty chair, looking out the window at the courtyard. He was like a lion, all smooth grace and watchful eyes. Despite his height—he had to be close to six-and-ahalf feet tall—he wasn’t awkward or gangly. Instead, rippling muscle covered his body, hugging his arms and torso clean down to his narrow waist. He made me feel safe. He also made me feel other things I

neither expected nor wanted to feel in this place—though I’d have welcomed the red heat between my legs if we’d been elsewhere. I moved again, trying desperately to get my arousal under control and failing when the ache only grew. Since he’d taken off his jacket and I’d seen the muscles he kept hidden under the leather and cloth, I’d been wet. Needy. Aching for him to close the distance between us and touch me. But he wasn’t going to. Because he had honor. Maybe I’m cynical after everything I’ve been through, but honor wasn’t something I expected to find in a man who wore his 1% patch like a badge of

pride. Flash was hardly the first biker I’d met in my life—not even the 50th— but those men were run down with hollow cheeks and sores on their arms. This man—the man who’d taken me out of the desert—he had smooth tanned skin, white teeth and a body that looked like it had never known chemicals. Unlikely, perhaps. But a girl could dream. If there was one thing on my personal checklist I wouldn’t compromise on, it was no more drug users. He said he didn’t want to force me, but it wouldn’t be force if something happened between us. After all the years I’d spent guarding my virginity like a treasure, I

suddenly wanted it to be gone very, very much. I wanted him inside me, showing me what all those girls get so excited about at parties when they go home with half-drunk fraternity guys who wear neon sunglasses on at night. I used to watch those girls when I’d walk across campus after the night classes I started taking as a senior in high school. Their short dresses clung to perfect bodies like bright bandaids and they’d all had the same wide, toothy grins. More than anything, I wanted to be like them, happy and just…free. Now I knew it would never happen. The first time I’d left home in ten years and I’d almost gotten killed. Maybe Uncle Dale was right when he said I’d never survive

without him. But for one night, I could have everything I wanted. As if he could hear the direction of my thoughts, Flash turned to me and ran his eyes over my still form. Shivers rocketed up my spine. “You aren’t sleeping.” “I’m too wound up.” “Well, I—.” He stopped abruptly and held up a hand, then pointed to the door. Under it, light had poured in as an unbroken streak from the hallway—until now. Behind the door was a shadow. Someone was listening. Flash’s face shut down. He stood

silently and made his way to the bed. I sat up, trying to match his stillness, and he moved so that his lips were brushing my skin. When he spoke, his tone was so low that I almost couldn’t hear it, like wind whispering along the sensitive shell of my ear. “Follow along.” I nodded. All the fear that had evaporated was gathering again, a dark cloud that rose up like crows from a field during harvesting. The heat I’d felt was threatened by cold. “Suck me, bitch.” My eyes widened and I leaned forward, reaching for his belt with shaking hands. Regret twisted in his face when he

reached out to clasp my hands together, shaking his head. “Moan,” he whispered. I did, opening my lips in an O. His pupils dilated at the throaty noise. “Take it deep,” he said, pressing his forehead against mine before pulling back. His voice was harsh, aggressive. “That’s right. Harder.” One of his hands moved to my face and he popped his middle finger into my mouth. My eyes widened with shock as it passed my teeth, then he pulled it out and groaned. “Fuck.” Understanding the game, I nodded and opened my mouth again. His finger slipped back in and I sucked noisily while he breathed faster and watched the

shadow under the door. Maybe I’m weak or crazy, because I didn’t hate what was happening. I loved the clean taste of his hands, the rough glide of his tongue over my skin. Unbidden, more sounds rose from my throat and spilled from my lips. I wanted to suck something else. His finger moved in and out of my mouth while I sucked on the warm digit until he finally pulled it out with an audible pop and groaned. “Yes, bitch. Fuck yes.” Flash groaned and I felt an answering ache between my legs. He took back both his hands and slapped them together. “Rest. I’m going to use you again soon.” He stood up and went into the bathroom,

turning on the light before slamming the door shut. In bed, I whimpered quietly and saw the shadow under the door disappear. It made me sick that the bastard who sentenced me to death would send someone to listen, to make sure I was being violated—but even that didn’t kill the swirling desire Flash had lit in me. Moments later, he re-emerged and looked at the door immediately. Lowering himself to the ground, he peered under it and, satisfied, walked back over to the bed. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m not,” I told him, reaching out to capture one of his hands in mine. “I want

more.” “What?” His face was incredulous and I almost pulled back, but something steeled my spine, made me push forward. “Flash, I almost died today.” “That’s a damn good reason not to fuck a stranger tonight, Emmy.” I hate being called Emmy…except the way he says it is almost appealing. “I’ve never done that before.” “What? Sucked a guy’s finger?” “No. Sex with a stranger.” I wasn’t embarrassed about it, but I was going to have to tell him so he didn’t find out mid-coitus. “I’m a virgin.”

“Why the fuck is the hottest woman I’ve ever seen a virgin?” I’m the hottest woman he’s ever seen? “Haven’t found the right guy.” “You aren’t seeing anyone?” “I was. Called him today and found out that he cheated on me. So I guess I’m not now.” “And you never fucked him.” “No,” I said, not wanting to tell him about Tommy’s descent into drugs and how my uncle had twisted him until he was a shell of the boy I’d once loved. “You’re saying what exactly?” “I want you to show me what I’ve been

missing.” I brought my fingers to where the towel was tucked in on itself and loosened it. It slid down, giving him a glimpse of my breasts. “Emmy…” “I’ve never even had someone else give me an orgasm,” I said, almost pleading. “Only myself.” “Never?” “Never.” He sighed. “I’m not going to fuck you.” “Why?” “I don’t fuck virgins.” I slumped my shoulders and reached to tuck the towel back in. Defeated. It was a crazy thought

anyway, that I’d find the sensual pleasure I’d dreamed of late at night here in this place. Flash knelt on the bed and reached for the towel, stopping me from covering myself. “What…?” “I’m not going to leave you without giving you an orgasm,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t guarantee we’ll make it out tomorrow and every woman deserves feel that at least once.” “Can you make me?” He nodded, his eyes full of wicked promise. That fire between my legs became an inferno. Chances were that I was in over my

head, but I didn’t care. He knee-walked across the bed until he was straddling me, then used a hand to raise my face to his. Our eyes met for the merest moment before his soft lips pressed down on mine and I forgot that I needed to breathe. The kiss was like wildfire burning through my veins. Unlike the flaccid, warm kisses that I’d shared with Tommy, this was hot, gentle and strong all at the same time. I opened my mouth and felt his tongue sweep in, tangling with mine while I melted in the sheets and his hand slid down my back, pushing away the towel and baring my naked body to him. How was it possible for a man to make

me feel this way with just his mouth? I knew I was wetter, needier now, could feel my sex pulsing between my legs, begging for his fingers or tongue or the erection I could feel hard against my belly. Desperate. I’d never been desperate before. Just when I thought the long, drugging kiss was over, Flash reclaimed my mouth. It was electric between us, like lightning running through my limbs and shooting out the top of my head. His mouth tasted like hard liquor, just the hint of it when he sucked my tongue between his lips and my world shattered. Needing more, I pressed my body against his, straining up until my swollen nipples brushed the leather of

his jacket. Strong hands guided me down to the mattress, where he tucked me back against the pillows and moved down to kiss my neck, sucking lightly on the spot where my pulse pounded. I shivered at the contact and saw the smallest hint of a smile before he dragged his velvet tongue over my nipple. “You taste fucking phenomenal,” he said, before returning his mouth to my body. Unbidden, my hands went to the back of his head and pulled him closer to my breast. I wanted that feeling, like everything was coming apart when he touched me. I wanted it more than anything in my life. His mouth was

devastating and I thought I might come just from the way he sucked my pebbled bud between his lips, using just enough pressure to make me arch from the mattress. “Part your legs,” he said, one rough hand tracing the curve of my limbs where they were pressed together. “I want to kiss your sexy pussy.” His raw words ripped through me and, though it was hard to expose myself, I did as he asked. I moved them apart, drawing up my knees while he rocked back on his heels and looked at the most intimate part of me. Flash’s eyes went large as he stared, then one of his hands reached out and traced the line of my

slit, gently parting my lips while pleasure at the contact exploded all over my body and I sucked in my breath. “You’re beautiful,” he said, slowly drawing moisture up to my clit and circling it with his fingers. I felt my muscles tighten like they do when I make myself come with a vibrator, but he wasn’t done yet. Slowing, he leaned in and licked my pulsating core, groaning against the wet flesh while my body undulated under him. “Fuck, you’re like sugar here.” He licked again, longer. His tongue dragged over my pink, swollen flesh while I fisted my hands in the sheets. “I’m never going to get enough of this.”

Good, I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get the words out. All I could do was throw back my head and spread my legs wider, giving his mouth more access. His facile tongue laved my flesh and it was all I could do to keep breathing. My hands clawed at the sheets on either side of my body while he traced the line of my pussy with his tongue and then delved into my opening. He groaned against my skin and when I would have drawn back, he reached up and grabbed my hips, securing me in place. “Don’t move,” he said. “Don’t move.” But I couldn’t help it. The sensations were overwhelming, like I was coming apart. My hips undulated against his face

while he moved up to suck hard on my clit. When one of his fingers probed the entrance to my body, I tensed, but the thick digit penetrated me and it felt amazing. My body stretched around his finger, clinging to it while his mouth devoured me. Soon I felt my climax approaching. I wasn’t going to be able to stop. “Flash…” “What?” he asked, immediately returning to my clit. “I’m going to come soon.” I was so scared he’d stop, but I needed him to know what he did to me. Just him. His mouth. His touch. I couldn’t get enough.

The quick, steady flicks against my skin and the unyielding motion of his finger in me pushed me over the edge. I reached down and tangled my fingers in his hair while my back bowed off the mattress and my lips opened in a silent scream. Too much. It was too much heat and pressure and sensation and then he was using his free hand to keep me still, continuing to lick my pussy as I came and came and came. It was nothing like using my vibrator. “God, Emily,” he said when he finally pulled back with one last kiss on my center. The ecstasy he’d given me burned me to cinders in that bed. I was a different

woman when my body finally stopped shaking. And I wanted him.

Flash Without a word, she’d ripped me open until I was nothing but tatters and then stitched the pieces back together in a new pattern. Reminded me of my mom tearing and sewing fabric together to make crazy quilts when I was a kid. I’d

given women orgasms before. Too many women to remember. This was the first time I gave a fuck. God, her pussy was so sweet on my lips. The little moans that escaped her mouth made me so hard I’d thrust my cock against the bed while I serviced her. Her breathing had finally gone back to normal and I’d tucked her up tight in the quilt, wrapping it around her shoulders and then laying down next to her, letting her steal the heat from my body. Emily’s lips were parted and I wanted to kiss them again, but it was more important that she grabbed what rest she could. Even if we managed to make it out of the villa, we had a long trip ahead of us.

Again, I thought about what waited for me at the end of the road. It was time to stop kidding myself—there was every chance I’d lose my patch for the shit that went down here. But I didn’t get service at the villa, couldn’t call Piston on one of Manuel’s phones for this. Hey, brother, do you mind if I steal a woman from Manuel? Great! My father may have been Vice President of The Fallen Motorcycle Club and, hell, my best friend was the fucking President, but none of that would matter if my actions were called to a vote in church. Wasn’t even sure they’d stand behind me. Loyalty had to be to the club first. Always.

It didn’t matter, though. In two hours, Emily and I were going right out the front door and god help any man who stood in my way. I’d have taken a bullet for her before I tasted her sweet pussy, but now I understood how some of my brothers got hooked on their own supply, barely able to keep their bikes together because all the money they earned got sunk into coke. Emily was like a drug to me now. No other women had ever crawled under my skin the way she did. Remembering her hands in my hair and the way her nails bit into my skin when she clutched me closer after our last kiss made my cock twitch in my jeans and I shifted, uncomfortable. In almost thirty years of life, I’d never met a woman I

wanted to claim, but damn if I was letting her get away from me once we left the villa. I didn’t know what her old life was, and I didn’t give a fuck. If someone was caring for her the way she deserved, she’d never had ended up on her face in the desert sand, about to get plugged with a bullet. I’d never been trusted with something so fragile, but damn if I wasn’t going to take good care of her. The black and white clock on the wall ticked as it counted down the seconds toward our leaving. In an attempt to keep Emily from being scared, I’d made it sound easy, but it was going to be a fucking miracle if we made it out. Men

would be waiting on the perimeter of the estate to keep us from fleeing. Manuel had at least one sniper perched on the roof too. Whether I should try to take that guy out before we left, I wasn’t sure. It could expose me—but leaving him alive might end with me or the girl dead. Emily rolled closer to me, seeking me in her sleep and I felt something in my chest, like my heart speeding up or constricting. Rejecting the sensation, I stroked a hand down her thick silken hair and planned for every scenario. Getting across the border without any ID would be easy, but it could also be possible to stop and get her things from the resort if our exit was seamless enough. Before I’d stop again, we’d

have to be two hours north, at least. We’d have to get her clothes, shoes and another fucking helmet. So many things could go wrong. If she died, I knew I’d charge Manuel like a raging bull and try to gore him to death before some fucker with a semiauto took me out. When the time was right, I gently rocked Emily, putting a finger to my lips to keep her quiet. Her eyes widened and every fear that had haunted me during the long night was reflected there, but she didn’t speak. Instead she moved to the edge of the bed and stood up, the sheet wrapped around her. “Do you still have my shirt?” My words

were barely a breath. “No, Rosaline took it.” I cursed. I had nothing else to put on her except my jacket and that doesn’t come off. My jeans would fall off her the first time she tried to take a step. Nudity was out. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I can wear the towel. I walk from the bathroom back to my room in a towel. It’ll stay up.” I nodded. “Stay close to me. Look straight ahead or watch our backs, whatever you can do. If I go down…” I didn’t know what to tell her. If I went down, she’d be dead in minutes. “Do you have a weapon?”

“Yes.” I held up my pistol to show her. “Do you know how to use one?” She nodded. “I’d rather eat my own bullet than let them give me one.” Her face was grim. Grudging respect rose in me at her words. Pulling my smaller piece from my boot, I handed it to her and tucked her slender fingers around it. They looked out of place on the thick, black metal, but it was better than nothing and even if she was a shit shot, it was better to have two people armed than one as long as she knew not to point it at herself or me. Motioning for her to follow, I opened the door and looked both ways. Either Manuel was slipping or he thought I’d be

passed out for a few more hours, because none of his thugs waited for us. A stroke of good luck, finally, but one I didn’t trust. The halls were silent, except for a radio playing something soft and sultry in a distant room. Our movements went unnoticed as we passed over the shiny floor and headed for the front, where we could cut to the garage and get out of dodge before our absence was called out and every guard in the place was on our asses. When I glanced back at Emily, she was looking around with wide eyes, taking in the villa. Beautiful architecture, sure, but this wasn’t the time to be gazing with

wonder at carved windows. Her lips drew together, like she wanted to say something, but then she shook her head and followed me. The front door opened, quiet and smooth. No one was outside; I scanned the tops of the outbuildings and saw no evidence of snipers or guards waiting to pounce. Maybe the miracle I’d hoped for was happening after all. We headed to the garage and Emily didn’t make a peep of protest about walking over the ground up shells that covered the driveway. In any other circumstance, I’d have picked her up and carried her so that her soft feet wouldn’t be cut, but my hands needed to be free to

defend us. I looked back and saw her face tighten as she took a step and the shells shifted under her. My bike was outside the garage, which was standard. None of The Fallen liked to have our shit under lock and key, especially when we were in potentially hostile territory. My bike is my freedom and nothing gets between me and it. Victory and something headier crashed through me as I started to roll my machine out toward the front of the driveway. While the thought of starting it up and making a quick break for it was appealing, it wasn’t the best idea. Someone would hear the roar of the engine.

The snap of the shells under the tires felt like gunshots as we moved forward. Even though I knew her feet had to be killing her, Emily kept up like a trooper. I couldn’t wait to get her out of there and tend to her wounds. Proud of her bravery, I turned to smile at her, to encourage her. That’s when all hell broke loose. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Santiago’s voice was as unwelcome as a rash. It leeched its way into my ears and made me tense, turning to face him. “You’re taking her?” His voice was confused, like he couldn’t quite believe I’d do this to him. “She’s my—.”

“I’m not your anything,” Emily snapped. To direct his attention to me, I moved in front of her, placing myself between them. “We’re taking off. Manuel changed his mind.” If I lied well enough, there was still a chance that we could get out of this. “Fuck you, Flash.” Santiago threw down the cards in his hand. He must have been playing with the guards who were offduty, a habit I knew pissed Manuel off. “I know he didn’t.” “Go ask him.” “How about we all go?” His sly grin told me all I needed to know. I wasn’t pulling the wool over his eyes.

“How about not?” I pulled my gun and pointed it at him. “Turn around and get the fuck out of here. Emmy, get on the bike.” I heard her move to obey me, but didn’t take my eyes off San. “Why you doing this, Flash? You gonna trade everything for some piece of ass?” “My reasons are my own.” San didn’t show any fear. He was riding high on something again, liable to act like a real damn superstar. “You know I won’t let you walk out of here.” “No choice, Santiago.” “Fuck you, no choice.” His eyes widened. Capillaries stood out on the

whites and he looked more deranged than I’d ever seen him. “Guards!” Still determined to make it out without planting a bullet in the overgrown asshole, I started to back up, to head for Emily and my ride. But Santiago had other plans. As soon as I started to move, I saw the flash of a gun he’d kept concealed and turned, ready to take a bullet, hoping to god I had time to fire back before I went down. But I never knew how it would have played out. A boom filled the air around me and Santiago’s eyes widened, emptying of life as he tumbled backwards and landed on the pale shell driveway, dead. A

small red hole formed between his eyes and blood spilled from the wound. I was fucking glad I didn’t have to see the back of his head. Turning, I looked at Emily. She held the gun I’d given her in her pale, shaking hands. She was trembling so hard that I thought she’d come apart. The gun dropped to the ground as tremors rocked her and even more blood drained from her face. She looked like a ghost. “Let’s get out of here,” I said, approaching her slowly and keeping my tone level. “Let’s go.” She nodded and I got on the bike. I could hear activity in the outbuilding, but San had convinced the guards to play poker,

which meant the new shift had lingered to collect winnings or watch the new game. How many would Manuel kill for that decision? The bike roared to life under me and I yanked Emily’s cold arms around my body, anchoring her. “Pull up your legs,” I said, pleased when they rose up to touch my hips. One guard at the main entrance tried to stop us from leaving. I put a hole in his knee and opened the gate. We were gone before the sun rose.

Emily I killed a man. I’ve done so many terrible things since my parents died, but I’d never stooped so low as to take a life. Sure, I’d fantasized about killing Santiago when

we were out in the desert and the sand was abrading my skin, but it wasn’t real. Thoughts like that weren’t anything real. This was real. He died so fast. In my whole life, I’d never realized just how fast it could be over. His eyes were alive and his lips were sneering and then they were both blank, like no one was home. When his body fell backwards, it was like a piece of myself went with him, crashed onto the sharp ground and was just gone. But it didn’t. I was alive and no matter how much darker my soul became when I killed Santiago, it was worth it to save Flash. Santiago raised the gun and leveled it at the man who’d risked his

own life to help me and I didn’t hesitate. Taking careful aim, I’d pulled the trigger and ended him and it was all too much. Swaying, I forced myself to calm down. No matter what I’d done, I wanted us both to walk out of here alive. Flash said something, but I couldn’t hear him. Everything was numb. When he started the bike, I felt his hands on me, felt him wrap me in close and then lifted my legs to the pegs. He drove faster than I thought was safe over the driveway and injured a man at the gate, but soon enough we were driving on a paved road. He was alive. I was alive. I’d taken a life.

Regret washed through me, sour and cold. But I knew that if I could rewind time and was in the exact same situation, I’d kill again. I’d aim and pull the trigger without a moment’s hesitation, because it was the right thing to do. It had to be. We drove north and I leaned into Flash’s big body, letting his heat soak into me while the morning wind whipped around, hot and dry. Even though it was summer and the sun was already heating up the roads until they glimmered, I was cold with the air flow around us. The towel I’d wrapped around my body wasn’t much protection. The rumble of the engine helped soothe

me, and I wondered where we were headed. He’d mentioned California and most of me wanted to be home, tucked away in my little bedroom that overlooked the ocean. Other parts of me wondered how I was going to start college now that I was coming home in disgrace. Uncle Dale hadn’t wanted to give me the money to go in the first place —even though I’d earned it—and the money I had saved up would cover tuition, but not an apartment or books. “You work for me because I kept you off the streets,” was his favorite refrain from the time I was twelve and he realized that I had an aptitude for numbers. “Without me, you’d be nothing,” was another one he loved to

throw out when he was so high that his pupils were like pinpricks. He’d grab me or backhand me then if I cried for fresh food or to go to the park the way I did before my parents died—and then he’d clean the entire building, sleep for two days and wake up normal until he smoked more crystal. But his house was home and it was better than curling up in some tenement and hoping for the best. I didn’t exactly have many friends and the ones I did manage to make weren’t much better off than me. School had always been a struggle, since I was required to be home exactly 20 minutes after the bell rang if I didn’t want to get cuffed. Most girls were out at parties or on dates. I

was heading back home to help my uncle out with his business because the good lord knows he wasn’t capable of handling it alone. Then I met Tommy. His eyes were like seawater and he smiled in the way so many of the young people who came to my house did: hesitant while looking down through his lashes. I recognized that look and the way he shied from his father when they sat down on my uncle’s faded couch together. Then he’d jerked his head toward the bar where I stood drinking a glass of water and looked at me. That was it for both of us, for awhile. I should have known the innocence of

him, the beauty, couldn’t last. There on the back of Flash’s bike, I mourned for Tommy and the boy he’d been when we first touched hands while walking home from school together. My uncle and his father had systematically dismantled him, but in the end the choice was his own. Just like his choice to cheat on me and then tell me over the phone while I was in Mexico. Then I let him go. Loving someone is easy, I mused while Flash pulled off the main road and headed toward a cluster of buildings. It’s loving yourself enough that’s really difficult. Telling Tommy goodbye was hard, but it had to happen if I was ever

going to really be free. When Flash pulled the bike into a parking lot, climbed off and reached for my hand, I accepted his help. My legs felt like gelatin, probably a mixture of stress, lack of sleep and sheer nerves. Once I was steady, I thought he’d let go —but instead he guided me into the store. Spotting racks of clothing, my heart leapt. The anticipation of having something real to put on was staggering. “Grab whatever you want,” Flash said. “I need to get a few things and make a call. I’ll meet you at the counter in ten.” I nodded, not voicing my concern about being left alone. We were hours from the villa and no one had followed us, but I

couldn’t get rid of the fear. It followed us down the road, nipping on our heels even when all I could see was road and sky. He walked across the room and stood by the wall, pulling out his phone and starting to make a call. Then he looked back at me and nodded. I realized that he wasn’t going to leave me alone, so I turned away and started going through the clothing. Just knowing he was close by bolstered my confidence. Disregarding a yellow sundress flowers on the hem, I looked for something more suitable for riding the rest of the way to California. The towel had done in a pinch, but I wasn’t sure I wanted so

much of my skin showing while we were on the highway. Add to that the fact that stiff materials and coverage could help protect me in a crash, and all my dreams of a pretty dress or full skirt went out the window. One of my goals for my trip to Mexico had been to shop, but I hadn’t gotten around to it until the day Santiago grabbed me. I picked out a pair of dark jeans and a white t-shirt, then pulled out a soft, longsleeved button down to wear over them. Glancing over my shoulder to see Flash glaring at nothing while he conversed with whoever was on the other end of the line, I went over to pick out a bra and panties, socks and some tennis shoes. Guilt rose as my arms grew full,

but I needed these things to get home. Maybe I could convince him to wait outside my uncle’s house while I gathered the money to pay him back. When I looked for Flash again, he was gone. Panic shot through me in one large bolt, but then I felt a hand on my arm and turned back to see him there. “Get more than one outfit,” he said. “We’re still a few days out.” “I can reuse this one.” “Why won’t you get more?” “All my money—not that I had a lot— but it was at the resort. I don’t think I’ll get it back and I don’t want you to have to spend your money on me. You’ve already done enough.”

“Get more things,” he said. “I want you to have clothes. Get a backpack and we’ll fill it up at the register.” I nodded, responding to his authoritative tone. The last thing I wanted to do was reject any measure of goodwill from the man who’d risked his life for me. So I went back, grabbed two more pairs of jeans, some tank tops, a sweatshirt, a skirt I could wear at a hotel if it didn’t have AC, and some more undergarments, then found a navy blue backpack that looked like it could hold the clothing. On the way to the counter, I grabbed a pack of hair ties and some chapstick, then a bottle of sunscreen and a tube of toothpaste.

Flash met me there with a few items of his own. Grabbing the clothes and toiletries I’d picked out, he set them on the counter, waited for the woman to scan them and then paid with a large stack of money from his wallet. I glimpsed the California driver’s license nestled inside before he closed it with a snap. “Is there a place she could change?” The saleswoman looked from me to him and nodded silently. Seeing a woman in a towel with a sexy, golden-eyed biker had probably shocked her into next week. “Dressing rooms are in the back, near the bathrooms. Either is fine.”

“Thanks,” he said, grabbing my hand and taking our bags with his free one. We walked into the back and I disappeared into the bathroom with the bags I wrested from him. Looking in the mirror, I took stock of myself. My face was a little rosy from the morning sun and my hair was straggled down my back, a wild mess. Dry lips, too-large eyes and the bruises across my face completed the picture. You look like a real winner, Em. Putting on the clothes made me feel normal again, but combing my fingers through my hair and pulling it back with a hair tie made me feel human. I dabbed sunscreen on my face and the exposed skin of my chest, then coated my lips in the chapstick. It tasted like grapefruit.

The shoes fit perfectly and I laced them tight, figuring we were in for a long ride to the border—which I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get across without ID. Surely there was some kind of official that an American citizen could talk to in order to get the proper paperwork. Flash would likely know what to do. When I walked back out, he stuffed the other items into the backpack. I reached for it, but he stopped me. “Put this on.” He held out a dark leather jacket that I definitely hadn’t picked up. I reached for it and ran my fingers down the buttery soft leather. “This is too much.” “You’ll be safer,” he said. Flash took the

jacket back from me, dropped the backpack and held it up, waiting for me to put my arms in. It fit perfectly. “Thank you for everything,” I said, looking into his startling eyes. Already, I knew I was in serious danger of falling for this man in an irrevocable way. There was little enough kindness in my life, and I didn’t know how to react to someone who’d put me first. On an impulse, I wrapped my arms around him and rested my face against the steel of his chest. The closeness reminded me of what we’d done the night before, how he’d made my body sing between the sheets, but I didn’t pull away.

I wanted more. He stiffened in my arms, then looked down at me with a question in his eyes. I smiled and Flash relaxed just a little, then bent to press his lips to mine. “I’m going to get you home, Emmy.” “I know,” I told him. And I did. Walking back outside, he slid the backpack over my shoulders and put a few things in the pack on the back of the bike. I watched his strong hands close the zipper and sighed, wanting them on my skin again. But now wasn’t the time. “What’s the plan?” “We’re going to drive until nightfall, then stop and sleep. In the morning,

we’ll do the same thing. What part of California do you live in?” “Malibu, but I’m starting at Cal Tech full time soon.” Or I am if I can convince my uncle to give me a cut of the profits without him punching me and then calling me ungrateful. I couldn’t live at home, work for my uncle and go to school full time. Already, I knew it would be impossible to keep my grades up. He’d barely tolerated high school and the few night classes I’d taken. Pointing out that economics would actually help me be more efficient had swayed him. He wasn’t going to be happy when I walked through his door, but I had

nothing else to fall back on. Even the papers I’d need for a new ID were at his house. “What do you want to study?” “Business management. I have a head for numbers.” “Really?” “What do you mean really?” I teased, cocking my head to the side. “I’d expect someone like you to study something softer. Literature, maybe. History.” “Why?” “Most of the women I went to college with weren’t into math.”

“Where did you go?” “UCLA, after I left the Army.” “What did you study?” Somehow I hadn’t pictured him as a college student, armed with fresh books and a hunger for knowledge. He slid dark sunglasses over his eyes and his lips quirked as if he knew exactly what I’d thought and it amused him. I wondered whether he was used to people underestimating him, only seeing the tough exterior. “Accounting,” he said, and I laughed out loud. An eyebrow shot up. “Why is that funny?” “If I don’t look like a business major, you definitely don’t look like an accounting major. Were all the skinny

boys scared of you?” He grinned and I felt something glow in my chest. It was like my heart stopped when he looked at me that way. “They were,” he confirmed. “Are you a CPA?” “No. I didn’t need it for what I was planning to do.” “What do you do?” “I keep books for the club.” “Your club?” I asked, reaching out to touch one of the patches on his shoulder but pulling my hand back before I made contact. “The Fallen?” “Yeah, The Fallen.”

“What are they?” “I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of us,” he said, and I knew he must be picturing my life differently than it was. I had heard of The Fallen. I’d been warned to stay very, very far away from The Fallen—but I wanted to hear about them from him, not from my uncle who almost pissed himself when he’d been run out of downtown by a biker who didn’t like him bringing meth to their territory. I still remembered the night Uncle Dale had come home beaten half to death, swearing that he wouldn’t let some ratfaced fucker stop him from selling. “So tell me about you.”

“The club was founded by some vets who came home and didn’t like having to take orders from people they’d fought for. Those same people spit on them and called them killers for doing their duty. So they made a way to work outside the law to get the better life they were promised.” “Outside the law?” Flash tapped the 1% patch on his arm. “Yes.” “So you’re a criminal?” Lord, we were more alike than I’d known. I guess it should have occurred to me that he was as deeply embroiled in the drug trade as I was, but if he was really an active member of The Fallen, then it was

crucial that he didn’t learn who I was. Because I really liked him, and I didn’t want him to have to kill me. Maybe he’d understand… “I guess. We have rules and I think they’re pretty fucking fair.” “Like what?” “Don’t sell to children. Don’t hurt women. Don’t leave orphans. The club isn’t going out and forcing junkies deep into debt then whacking them when they can’t pay. We’re working on building an economy. A damn good one.” He trailed off. “Which, if I’m right about what happened yesterday, is now fucked

because you pulled me out of that house last night?” He sighed. “Your life is worth more than all the bricks of cocaine in that place, Emmy. Wouldn’t change what I did, even if we’re all royally fucked once I get home.” “Are you?” “Maybe. I spoke to my president and he’s pissed. I have to report in soon and take my medicine.” “I’m sorry, Flash.” “You can’t blame yourself at all, sugar. Besides, you saved my life back there.” The reminder of what I’d done to Santiago was unwelcome at first, but

somehow seeing it through his eyes made it easier to bear. If I had to kill Santiago to keep Flash alive, then it was worth it, no matter what tomorrow might bring. “Do you think we could get some food?” I wanted to change the topic, and my growling stomach was as good a reason as any to bring up something else. “Let’s drive for awhile, then stop.” Flash reached into one of his bags and pulled out a protein bar. Unwrapping it, he offered it to me and I snapped it in half, then handed him a piece. “You should eat too.” “Thanks.”

We both chewed the hard bars that tasted like dusty peanut butter and smiled. A lot of bad stuff was not very far behind us, but I’d never felt as content as I did in that moment. Of course, it couldn’t last. But I think we both knew that already.

Flash I took the long way to the border, even though Piston had told me to get my fucking ass back to the clubhouse ASAP. Didn’t seem safe to stick to main roads, not when Manuel would have the entire

fucking cartel out gunning for Emily and me. The club was officially battened down and ready for the shit to hit the fan. Piston was already negotiating with Manuel, who was enraged that Emily had killed his son. “Thank god you didn’t pull the trigger,” Piston drawled. “I wouldn’t be able to talk his bitch ass down then. He wants to cut her into chum.” That wasn’t going to happen. The Fallen could handle themselves, but I wasn’t about to let someone plug Emmy in the back while I tried to outrun their SUVs. Wasn’t going to happen. I headed for Sonora, thinking we could grab a hotel and maybe some chill time.

Letting Manuel and his men think that we’d beat pavement to cross into San Diego inside a day and a half was the best defense. Sonora was out of the way, a place where we could sleep and heal before making the last leg of the journey. One thing was certain: Emily was moving into my room at the clubhouse once we made it back. Leaving her shit at the resort had been a mistake, because I knew it would take Manuel no time at all to track it down and find out her real address from her identification or employment papers. Cameras dotted the courtyard of the villa. He’d know exactly who had killed his son and he’d be out for blood.

Her blood. But at the time, I didn’t see going back as an option. Emily told Santiago where she’d been staying, which meant Manuel probably knew as well. If he’d sent men there immediately, they could have intercepted us. Besides hoping the men on our trail would pass us by, I had another reason for wanting to spend a few days somewhere safe. Emily was cracking. Even if she tried to hide it with shy smiles and quips about every place we stopped to refuel, I could see the shadows beneath her eyes darken every hour while she wrestled with the guilt that consumed her over Santiago. She’d

only said something once—that even if he’d deserved to die, she didn’t want to be an executioner—but had walked away to get a bottle of water when I tried to reply. The fucker did deserve to die. The Fallen had talked about it, after nasty little rumors about his nighttime habits reached our ears, but no one was willing to talk and confirm. That meant we couldn’t take action—especially when action would mean bringing Manuel down on us. So we didn’t act. Rafael would have. I missed the man and the way he held the cartel in a steel grip without losing himself to the darkness. Anyone who worked under

him was held to the standards to which he held himself, which is one reason why The Fallen had signed on to deliver his shipments in the first place. We weren’t cut out for manufacturing our own product and he’d believed in ethical labor practices. That’s something you don’t see a lot in drug lords. But everyone who worked for him that I’d ever met—right down to the guys who packaged coke into bricks—was sober and taken care of. He didn’t have a house full of hookers waiting to service any man who came in. Women who worked for him in that way were healthy and compensated fairly. In all the

years I’d spent making runs to the villa, I’d never seen a woman who looked unhappy or who wasn’t free to walk out the door. The Deleon Cartel was a good operation back then. Maybe that’s why Dad and Rafael got along so well—they’d both seen other motorcycle clubs or cartels rise and fall as the leaders and members got hooked on their own shit and ruined everything. Both of them—and my grandfather, our president before Piston —thought real loyalty meant keeping things clean enough that the club or cartel didn’t fall apart around your feet. That all changed when Manuel took over. I remember seeing Rosaline age

ten years overnight, though she refused to pack up and come work at the clubhouse. “You hate him,” I’d said to her, eating some beans she’d cooked with lime and cilantro. “Why won’t you leave? What reason would he have to keep you?” She’d worked in the villa as long as I could remember, but there were plenty of younger housemaids, like the one that Manuel had excused himself with after our meeting that time. Rosaline was still beautiful, with light brown hair and faded emerald eyes, but her skin was lined and I didn’t imagine she’d hop into bed with Manuel if he crooked a finger. “It’s complicated,” she said, and turned

to get herself a cup of strong coffee. “But your offer is kind.” Her pretty lips turned up in a smile that was both disarming and sad. I wanted to pull her onto the back of my bike and let her keep house for The Fallen, not stick around here to watch Manuel drag in doped-up women and push the workers so hard that accidents and deaths had increased for miniscule production improvement. Then he’d added Columbia to the mix. That made it more complicated. Columbians weren’t used to working with cartels like the one run by the Deleons. They’d want more and more control, but Manuel was too blind to see beyond his wallet.

The road flew under us as I turned toward the coast, my hands slick on the handlebars. Driving fast was like flying and having Emily’s legs tucked up against my thighs was pure sensation, even through the stiff jeans we both wore. Every time she moved against me, I remembered the way her body stiffened under mine, the way her tight depths grabbed onto my finger when she climaxed. I wanted it again. I was going to have her again. Possessiveness was like a living thing inside me, hungry and restless. The sun was starting to set when the Sonora shore finally came into view. Three days had passed since we left the

villa and we’d slept for scant hours at a roadside hovel. Now I could offer her cool, clean sheets, a view of the ocean and something to eat other than shrink wrapped protein bars and dubious food from metal trays in gas stations. Never before had I wanted to give a woman luxury and comfort, but everything I could give to Emily, I would. Her bravery set me on fire and her defiance of the men at the villa aroused me. If I’d thought the only women who were strong enough to stand up to adversity were the ones claimed by my brothers, then I was wrong. She was the opposite of meek and I wanted to take all that passion and will and wrap it up, keep her safe.

My twisted urges confused and disoriented me, so I pushed them aside and started to plan. Concrete plans would do more for us than obsessing over her gorgeous dark hair or the way her lips curved when she took tiny sips from her water bottle when we stopped, then smiled at me over the lid. I hated the way I was mooning over some girl that I’d just met who’d probably bolt the second I came home with a bruise on my face. I wanted her, but I wouldn’t force her to stay. If Piston somehow managed to work shit out with the cartel, there would be a lot of late nights and a lot of shit work in it

for me. No way I was getting out of this one with a slap on the wrist. Piston and Dad might even ship me up to Montana for a few years and I’d have to live with one of the sleepiest branches of the club. Nothing happened there. Last time I visited, I’m pretty sure I saw a cow die from boredom. Emily’s perfect ass must have been getting sore, because she snuggled up against me while she adjusted herself on the seat. Pretty obvious she hadn’t ridden too often before climbing onto my Harley. She had no idea how to move with the bike, and if I hadn’t been riding with jumpy, coked-up assholes for years, I could have sent us spiraling off the road and into a ditch when she moved

like that. Didn’t help my erection either. I was hard as iron and if she just moved her hands down a little… Gritting my teeth, I looked for a nice hotel on the shoreline. For myself, the first place I came across would do, but I wanted more for her. My phone didn’t have enough service at the last fuel stop to book a room in advance, and it was just as well. In my experience, small towns near the border run the gamut from very nice to decrepit, and it’s easy to put up a website that promises a lot more than it delivers. Searching out a good one would be much easier here in person.

A white stone building that sprawled elegantly along the sand came into view. It boasted large balconies and a sparkling pool that I could see through an archway. Pulling into the lot, I shot a poisonous glare at the valet who eyed my bike with avarice, then pulled Emily off and helped her steady herself. Years of riding kept me rock solid no matter how long I was on the Harley, but she didn’t have her road legs yet. “What are we doing here?” Her wide eyes glanced around at the opulence of the hotel and she twisted to look up at me. “Flash?” “We’re going to stay tonight and tomorrow. Give the cartel some time to

get off my ass.” Her lips thinned as she took in the high ceilings and rich furniture dotting the lobby. “We could stay somewhere cheaper.” “No, Emmy. We’re staying here.” She obviously had no idea that I was rolling in money from the club’s more illicit ventures. I wrapped an arm around her slender shoulders and together we walked deeper into the lobby. Her warm body against me would have been enough to lull me into sleep if I hadn’t been so on edge, checking every corner for unfriendly eyes or the gleam of a weapon. After I got a room at reception, we rode

up to it in the silent elevator. Part of me wanted to ask about her life at home, to find out more about her than I’d been able to figure out over bites of beef jerky on the dusty roadside, but her eyes kept fluttering closed. Seemed like she needed sleep more than an interrogation. “Thanks for stopping,” she said, breaking the silence. Her lips curved in a smile and she reached for my hand, squeezing it. “I didn’t realize how tired I was.” “Made sense to stop,” I told her, not ready to let her know how she affected me, and led her to the door of our room. The lock blinked bright green when I inserted the key, and then the door

opened to reveal our accommodations. One king size bed dominated the room, its cushioned headboard directly against the back wall. Emily wandered over to the bed and sat down, then fell to her side, curling up. “I haven’t stayed somewhere so nice since my parents died, I think.” Every cell in my body was screaming for me to join her on the bed and sink into her golden warmth, but I checked the closets and bathroom as a matter of course, then took a cola from the minibar. Before I could offer her some, her breathing went deep and even. She was asleep. Mindful of her comfort, I unlaced her

shoes and slid them off, setting them on the ground. I polished off my drink, clearing the dust from my throat, and walked around to the other side of the large mattress. Slipping off my jacket, I sat down. The soft mattress felt like a cloud under my road-weary body and it only got better when I went horizontal. Couldn’t remember the last time exhaustion had overwhelmed me. I turned to look at her. Her dark hair was curling around her shoulders and her head was resting on her pale hands. Emily’s chest rose and fell with each breath she took—she was gonna be out for awhile. No doubt she needed it after what she’d been through.

Her dark lashes lay against her soft cheeks and her eyes were still. No nightmares, I hoped. Though god knows she was going to be haunted with them for a time. Taking a life—even the life of a shit like Santiago—comes with consequences. But I’d never been a heavy sleeper and I knew that if she thrashed, I’d wake and comfort her, draw her out of her nightmares. So I closed my eyes and was asleep before the sun had fully set over the ocean. My last thoughts were of a joke Emily told me when we stopped to rest at that rat-infested hotel. Something about tomatoes blushing and ranch dressing. My lips curved into a smile. For the first time in years, I had someone

to think about other than myself and The Fallen, and I wasn’t going to fail her. No matter what it took.

Emily When I woke up, he was sleeping next to me. One thing I’d never been able to enjoy with Tommy was a full night of silence and rest. Either he was up running

errands for my uncle at two, three, four in the morning, or he wasn’t able to sleep over because his father didn’t like his whipping boy to be gone. The few times we’d been able to stretch out and sleep, it had always been interrupted and left me feeling jittery. By the time he decided to crack his dad’s jaw and get his own place, it was too late for me to want to stay over, even if I’d been allowed to. “You can’t go out tonight, girl,” Uncle Dale said one of the first nights Tommy had been set up alone, looking up from the show he was watching. “Got a shipment here bright and early.” “Cut it yourself,” I snapped, hating my

entire life in that moment. The sofa had been nice when we’d purchased it to replace one that had burned a year before. This one wasn’t going to make it much longer, though. Holes were burned into the cloth where my uncle or one of his junkie friends let a cigarette go a little too long. “Can’t do it.” He sighed and stretched out, his small eyes cutting into me like a dull blade. “I got places to be. Besides, you’re so much better at it than any of my other guys. Can’t leave anyway. I’ll just get the police on your ass.” Dale laughed like it was a big joke. As if he’d call in the police to drag his underage ward back to the house.

The greatest tragedy of my life was that I’d learned how to cut and bag meth with brutal efficiency. When I was 12, I’d escaped from one of his workers with a black eye and a cut on my head after I made a smart remark about his lack of personal hygiene. Dale said that if I wanted the man gone, I’d have to take up his spot in the production line—it was a joke, of course. He didn’t expect me to pick up the razorblade and chop meth that was almost perfect even before it was weighed. Then I’d made a suggestion offhand a year later after reading a book on economics that some college student left behind and Dale had taken it seriously.

I’d increased profits by changing our price against other the price of other local suppliers. Turned out that undercutting them just a little boosted what we would sell—which Dale crowed that he’d thought of before, but hadn’t had the time to try. Right. So I cut the product, bagged it and pushed it out with his dealers every night. Maybe I was ruining lives, but I was saving mine. Since Dale wanted to keep me around to bolster his profits, he kept the other guys from beating me for sport. When I got a little older, his protection became even more important. That’s when we moved down to Malibu. He had saved enough to move us into a

gated home with a few guards who allowed us to do our job without any clients showing up with a grievance and ruining a whole day. Trouble is, the gates did something else too: they kept me inside. I was allowed to leave for school, but if I wasn’t home at the right time or if I tried to leave to do something else—see a movie, go to the park—I’d get a taste of Dale’s belt before being sent to work without food. The memory of hunger turned over in my stomach and I let my shoulders slump. “I just wanted to go hang out with Tommy.” “Nothing doing. You need to stuff those teddy bears and ride with Joe to drop them off for shipping in the morning. It

was your idea, girl. Don’t bail now.” The teddy bears was one of my greatest ideas, even if I hated myself for it. The more money Dale had, the more often he was out of the house. I loathed working with the meth that rolled in, but it was better than working right under his twitching nose—so I did everything I could to increase profits. One flash of genius was to sell online, through sites on the dark Web, and then ship the product out cloaked in things like teddy bears or candles. I preferred the candles, because they offered a hard barrier. Dale preferred the teddy bears, because they took less time. My latest idea was to stuff a baggie of meth inside

a bag of coffee beans. “What if I’m back before sunrise?” Billy was already using then, and I wasn’t keen to see him, but his place offered an escape from Dale’s. “No. Get upstairs.” Rage swam though me like a living thing, but I turned and headed for the stairwell. “Emily.” The sound of my name was a gong and I stopped, not looking back at him. “Get over here.” Fight or flight kicks in when you know something horrible is going to happen again, but sometimes there’s just

nowhere to run. Sometimes your only option is to grit your teeth and bear what will be done. Wild fantasies of running to the front door and getting off the property played out in my head, even as I walked back to him and clenched my jaw, preparing myself. “What is it?” “Why do you constantly defy me when I’ve given you everything?” His face looked genuinely confused and his tone was peppered with hurt, as if I’d betrayed him somehow. From the time he took me in, he’d done nothing but use me to build his drug empire. Dale had never offered me anything that I didn’t pay for.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I wasn’t sorry. Not even a little. But sometimes quietly apologizing to him would stop him from beating me. Looking down through my lashes, I saw his fist curl just before he swung. Pain arched through my face and I stumbled back, grabbing the couch to keep from slamming into the floor. I could have pulled myself back up then, but he’d have just hit me again and again until I stayed down, so I curled up into myself and felt his boot swing into my ribs. I choked, then gagged when he did it again. “Why do you make me do this, girl?” Another kick, then his hand fisted in my

hair and he dragged me up. Bright red agony played in front of my eyes and I struggled to stay conscious. It had been so long—almost two months—since he’d hit me that some stupid, willful part of myself thought he wouldn’t do it again. “I don’t like having to show you your place.” His face was only inches from mine and his heavy breathing and wet mouth made my stomach turn over. Always I was scared that one day he’d take it farther, give in to his desire to beat me until I was broken or dead, but it wasn’t going to be today. I let my eyes close and felt him release me, heard his boots on the wooden floor and then the bang of the

front door. Crawling up the stairs and into bed, I reminded myself to set an alarm just in time so that I’d be up to get the shipment. If they woke up Dale, I’d be in for another round with his fists. Dale was going to be pissed that I got caught up with coke dealers, especially The Fallen. There was no way he was going to do like he promised when he sent me to Mexico now. “When you come back,” he said, “I’ll give you your documents and enough money to get your own place. Just promise you’ll come back on weekends to work.” So I’d agreed and headed down to Mexico, not wanting to make waves when I was so

close to getting what I wanted. Now I wasn’t going to get what he’d promised. All my plans were blown. But I was alive. Despite the horror of the past few days, I felt relaxed on the bed with Flash, able to look out and see the ocean. Though the beach was undoubtedly crowded, the roar of the sea muted the sounds of voices chatting or kids playing on the sand below. It was just the water, crashing against the shore before receding back down. Closing my eyes, I let it soothe me and wash away everything except me and the man next to

me. I was terrified of him. Not that he’d hurt me, because I’d already seen the gentleness cloaked by his big body and gorgeous muscles that I just wanted to lick. The thought of him injuring me didn’t even cross my mind, as long as he didn’t find out about my uncle. Not all men were Dale, hurting women because they could. But the one thing I wanted in my entire life was to have power, to have control over myself and my destiny. Flash made me want to give that up, that power, that future, so I could stay with him.

The second day after leaving the villa, after we’d grabbed a few hours of sleep, we’d stopped so he could put some gas in the bike. “Should have fueled up in the city,” he said through teeth clenched around his wallet. I reached for it and pulled it from his mouth, freeing him to talk. The merest brush of his lips against my fingers made me light up inside again. I remembered sucking them on the bed, the rough slide of his skin over my lips. “I’m glad we stopped,” I told him, taking a few steps back, then coming forward again. “I needed to walk around a little. Plus, it’s beautiful here.” Out in the distance, red rocks lined the horizon,

reminding me of Arizona where my parents had taken me once. I knew that as the sun moved, their colors would change and dim with the light. “Do you want to stop and eat a real meal?” “Do you think we should?” “Probably not.” I’d hoped for a different answer, but accepted the one he gave me. Knowing him for such a short time still made me believe that Flash was an honest man. If he thought it was safe for us to stop and eat something heartier than we had, we would be stopping. He wasn’t the kind of person who’d force me to stay hungry so I’d be easier to

bend to his will. Unless he was in such a rush to get rid of me that he was flying for the California border without fear of being pursued. Guilt clawed at my throat there by the gas pumps as I thought about what I’d done to him. In my desperation at the villa, I’d talked him into giving me an orgasm that Flash didn’t want to give. The memory of his tongue delving into my pussy, the way I’d screamed under him…it haunted me through every single one of the miles we traversed. Never had I given in to someone so completely. “When do you think we’ll get to

California?” I asked him. “A few days,” he said, watching the meter tick up. The station had the old pumps with numbers that flipped instead of newer, digital ones. “Do you think someone at the border will help me get a new ID and get into the country?” The fear had been dogging me ever since I realized everything I owned was at the resort. If the border officials required my legal documents, they’d have to get them from Dale—who might not be so happy with federal workers showing up on his property. “I’ll get you over the border,” Flash said. “No ID required.”

“How?” “Don’t worry about it.” I got quiet, but there was no way I wasn’t going to worry. If I needed ID and they had to interrupt Dale, I was in deep trouble. It wasn’t like I could just run away from him, because he always tracked me down. It had happened when I was 11. When I was 14. When I was 17. I had the scars to prove it. Besides, he owed me heaps of money, even if I got paid less than the lowest runner. I’d built the operation into what it was. Selling to Hawaii? My idea. Pushing candles in LA? Mine, too. Dale would still be operating out of a two-

bedroom house in the suburbs if I hadn’t decided that helping him deal meth was better than being beaten for fun by his “friends”. A dark part of me took pride in the work that I did, too, even if I’d never admit it to anyone. It was a rush and gave me a feeling I’d never gotten from anything else until Flash pushed his head between my thighs. “Thank you.” “It’s no problem,” he said, still not looking at me. “I’ve gotten people over the border before.” “No, really.” I put my hand on his shoulder and waited until his gorgeous

eyes met mine. “Thank you. For everything.” “You don’t have to thank me, Emmy. Not ever.” I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I nodded and stretched again. Some people don’t like hearing gratitude, I guessed. The tank was full and now we were just loitering, but I wasn’t ready to get back on the bike. My butt felt bruised after days of slamming against the hard seat as we went over the rutted road. But we had to leave, and when I climbed on behind him, it felt like coming home. Something about the scent of his hair or the strength of his back against my breasts was perfect in a way I’d never

known. Tommy had jumpstarted my heart when I was a young girl without anyone else to love me, but it had never felt as right as this, like Flash was the last piece in a puzzle I’d been unable to finish for years. And he would leave me in California and I would never see him again. But now, in Sonora, he was sleeping next to me and I could study him without fear of showing too much. He was younger than I had thought the first time I saw him through terror and swirling sands. Maybe approaching 30, but not quite there yet. His strong jaw and cheekbones cut under his skin, while his sensual mouth pouted as he dreamed.

The muscles that made me feel safe were relaxed, all the tension drained out of him. Standing carefully—I’d learned to be quiet and unobtrusive at a young age—I took off the clothes I’d fallen asleep in and stepped into the shower. The hot spray helped melt away the rest of the aches in my body, and the fresh soap cleared my head of the cobwebs left behind by my deep sleep. It smelled like white lilies and frothed over my skin as I washed again and again. When I was done, I wrapped myself in one of the complimentary robes and brushed out my hair, working my fingers through the wet locks.

The wide mirror over the marble counter gave me a chance to study myself. After what had happened between Flash and me, I felt new. Different. For the first time, I cared about the body reflected back at me in the mirror. What kind of woman did Flash actually prefer? If he liked pale women with big breasts and blonde hair, I was out of luck. It didn’t matter, though. I could only be me. Even the fear of giving into a man who was stronger by far than Dale didn’t keep me from wondering what it would be like to be Flash’s woman. But he wasn’t looking to keep me. He’d saved me and that would have to be enough.

For his rescue, I’d be grateful for the rest of my life. Once I was dry, I dug through the backpack and pulled out my skirt, a white tank top, fresh panties and a bra. Sliding into them, I pulled back my hair, grabbed a drink and walked out onto the balcony. Never in my adult life had I been on a beach vacation before this summer, even though I lived right next to it, thanks to the dirty money Dale and I made. But to be here with nothing to do and no one to answer to was pure bliss. I wanted my entire life to stretch out in that perfect moment, full of cold drinks and sunshine and a man I wanted desperately only steps away.

But nothing like that lasts. Long moments passed while I sat on the lounge and let the sun warm my skin. I think I dozed off at one point, focused on the puffy white clouds blowing past. Then I heard Flash’s voice, tinged with panic. “Emmy?” “I’m here,” I called, pulling myself into a sitting position. “On the balcony.” A second later, he appeared in the doorway and sat next to me on the lounge. “I thought you were gone.” “I’m not going anywhere,” I promised, leaning against him. His body was still warm from sleep. His hard thigh against

my leg felt good. Felt right. “You smell nice,” he said, turning his face into my hair. “Showers,” I laughed. “I take one daily, if I can.” “Smart ass.” “Better than being a dumb ass.” I’d wanted to see him smile, but when he did it was like the sun got brighter. I stuck out my tongue, grinning, and then he kissed me. Kissed me. It was soft and tender, the slide of his lips over mine. My tongue darted into his mouth, and when I would have

withdrawn it, he sucked on it just a bit and I felt my brain melt. Easing us both down onto the lounge, he deepened the kiss. Hot lightning arched between us, better than the last time because now we were free, alone, and safe. My mind shot into overdrive, reminding myself not to mistake passion for care. A lack of love in my life had contributed to my relationship with Tommy, and I didn’t want that again. Thinking a man loves you and finding out that you’re a convenience is something more bitter than aspirin left too long in the mouth. But Flash’s hands on my back, molding my body to his, cleared out all the muddled thoughts and left me with

nothing more than sensation and need. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were hot. His hands slid down my arms until he reached my hands, linking our fingers together. “I just wanted to make that clear,” he said. “What?” I asked, confused. “That I want you,” Flash said. “But I don’t want your gratitude.” “What do you mean?” It was ludicrous for him to think I wasn’t grateful for what he’d done—and even more ridiculous that he’d think I’d prostitute myself to thank him.

“When you’re in my bed, I want you there because you want what I do to your body. Because you want my cock so deep inside you that it drives all those racing thoughts out of your head. Not because you’re thankful.” “Flash…” “I can’t wait to fuck you, Emmy, but that’s not what this is about.” “What’s it about then?” “I want you. All of you.” Time stopped and my limbs grew heavy. Shock? Desire? I wasn’t sure. “You barely know me.” “I know you’re brave. Strong. That you

saved me as much as I saved you.” The reminder that I’d killed a man was unwelcome, but easier than it would have been a day ago. “I know you make me laugh and that I want to see you every day. That’s enough for me.” “What do you want?” “To be with you. To take care of you. I want to know about your life before me and why you don’t talk about the people you’re going home to. I want you to be mine.” “Yours?” “I’ll protect you from everything, Emily, if you’ll trust me.” I looked at him and the truth was there in

his eyes, written across his face. But I couldn’t accept that—too often love came with a price I couldn’t afford to pay. So I looked away, pulled a hand free and brushed my hair out of my eyes. “I think maybe we should get out for a few hours,” I said, taking the coward’s path. “What do you think?” Flash’s face was stoic, but I could see a grin lurking near his lips. The man understood me already, and it was both heady and nerve-wracking. “That’s fine. A few hours might be just what we need.” While he showered and put on clothes, I thought about what he’d promised. What

he wanted. And part of me yearned.

Flash Emily was nervous and that was just fine. I liked her nervous. Maybe it was because nerves meant she wasn’t indifferent to me. Scared I could handle. Indifferent might just kill me at

this point. When I was 15, Dad took me to get my first bike. I’d been waiting years for a rat bike I could fix up and learn to ride, so when he came through the door and hollered for me to get ready, anticipation crackled over my skin like static electricity. We’d gone to a scrapyard— because no one respects a biker whose first bike is all shiny new chrome and metal, especially when that biker’s still a kid—and looked for hours, passing over bikes that were smashed and twisted up, all the metal dumped without a care. Then I saw it. Black and rusted and falling apart, it looked like a nightmare.

But I could see the bones under the rot and knew right then it was mine. Dad was dubious, but nodded and we got a great deal on it. I’ve had other bikes since then, but that one still sits in my parents’ garage. I poured my sweat and blood in it for a year while I waited to get my motorcycle license. Can’t count the nights Mom would come out to the garage with dinner on a plate and leave it on the stool beside where I crouched, trying to fix some part of the damn bike. I was right, too. I never loved a bike more than that first one. Felt the same way the first time I really

looked at Emily after we left the villa. Like she was more than just some girl. Like she was a necessity. Shrugged it off, of course, because high tension has a way of warping things so that they appear to be more than they are. But then she shot a man for me and clung tight to me and tried to make me laugh even when I knew Emily was bleeding inside. Raw. She still put on a smile and told a joke, then really grinned when I laughed. And that was it. If one of my brothers had fallen as hard, I’d have mocked the man and insisted that it was all a trick. Illusions playing

against a lonely mind. But I was anything but lonely. I had my family and The Fallen. That was all I’d ever needed. Now I needed her, too, even if needing her made me weak. We asked the concierge for a place where we could buy some food and she directed us to a street festival a few blocks over. Bright music flew over the colorful awnings and Emily reached for my hand, pulling me along from one booth to the next. I went willingly, happy to see her relaxed. She wound through the crowd and my hackles rose, aware an attack could come from anyone. But a quick perusal of the gathered people helped loosen me up. No one was

watching us. We were anonymous. Opening up to her about my desires might have been rushed, but I refused to believe it was a mistake. She wanted me as much as I wanted her. When I’d woken halfway through the night, she’d been curled against me again. Her body searched for me in sleep, even if her mind refused to acknowledge our connection. “Look at this, Flash,” she said, pointing to a street performer who was juggling knives. Her enthusiasm was contagious, even though knives are for self-defense, not to throw around like some kind of psychopath. After she’d tired of that, I bought her a fruity iced drink that was

served in a coconut and she grinned at me in a way that lit up her whole face. Sipping drinks, we poked through the wares. When my hunger got the better of me, I dragged her to the food trucks and stalls, where we bought sticks of lamb and plates of rice and beans. Once I’d found her a place to sit, I went back for fruit and empanadas. Then I grabbed a blanket I spotted for sale and came back to her, arranging the blanket on the ground so that she had a nicer place to sit. “This is so wonderful,” she said, scooping up another mouthful of rice and following it with a bite of spiced lamb. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Street fairs are pretty common in California,” I pointed out. “Why don’t you go to one when you’re home?” “I work a lot.” “What do you do?” “Sales, mostly. My uncle runs a business and I work for him. Hey do you think that we could go swim in the ocean before we leave tomorrow?” I knew she was deflecting, but I let her. There was plenty of time for her to open up to me. “Is that something else you haven’t done before?” She laughed and my body tightened. “Of course I have. My parents used to take me out to the beach. We’d get those foam

boards and try to catch waves together.” “What happened to them?” “Car accident,” she said, her smile dimming. “They were good parents, though.” “You went to live with your uncle after they died?” “Yes,” Emily said, reaching for an empanada. “He took me in. I was lucky. We didn’t have any relatives and I know the California foster system is overloaded.” “Was he a good parent too?” She shrugged. The simple motion made it clear that not only had he been a crap

parent, but that it wasn’t something she’d talk about. Wanting to restore the mood to what it was before I fucked it up with such a piss-poor question, I reached out and snagged the last bite of empanada from her hands, chewing it with relish when she protested. “Sorry, Emmy. You snooze, you lose.” “I wasn’t snoozing! It was in my hand.” “Ah, but you didn’t eat it.” She reached out and tickled my ribs and I laughed, choking on the bite I’d stolen. “Stop, stop.” “Well, I don’t want to give you the death penalty over some fried food,” she said. “But you’re lucky that it wasn’t chorri

pollo you swiped.” The pain on her face was gone. Once we’d cleared off the food, I folded the blanket and we dove back into the crowd. It had thickened since we stopped to eat, a writhing mass of bodies that we had to push through to get anywhere. My eyes stayed sharp for anyone who seemed too focused on us, but no threats presented themselves. While I grabbed a few things for my brothers, Emily poured over woven bracelets. Watching her from the corner of my eye, I saw her pick one up and run her fingers down it. It was dyed shades of deep purple and blue, with just a hint of a deep, rosy red in the middle. She

draped it over her wrist and admired it, then nodded to the vendor and put it back down. Coming up to me, she laid a hand on my shoulder. “What did you get?” I held up my bag. “Some things for my brothers. A few shot glasses, some tshirts. Just shit from the soujourn down here.” “Aren’t they going to be angry at you about what happened?” More than anything, I wanted her to let go of the guilt she was carrying over The Fallen. “That’s what the gifts are for. I’ll soften them up.” She smiled and I felt happiness invade my body. As good as

my life had been, it was a new feeling. Something deeper. Something primal. “Want to go look at some of the performers?” she asked, threading her arm through mine. I liked the way she touched me more and more as she became used to me. “Actually, could you go ask the vendor whether he has more of the t-shirts in an extra-large? I’d ask again, but I bargained him down so low that he was glad to see the back of me.” Emily’s head tilted, but she smiled, nodded and headed over to the booth. Moving fast, I went to the booth that she’d been at before I’d come over.

Grabbing the bracelet she admired, I shoved a fistful of cash at the woman, who smiled and offered me a bag. Shaking my head no, I pushed the bracelet into the pocket of my jacket, then turned and walked to Emily, who was speaking to the vendor. “There are three more,” she said. I didn’t need three more shirts, but I bought them anyway.

That night, we went to dinner at a restaurant that overlooked the bay. I don’t usually go in for candles and linen tablecloths, but I wanted to treat her to

something nice. When her eyes scanned the large, open room in pleased appreciation, I smiled. I drank beer from a sweating bottle and watched her sip her wine, her lips turning red as it washed over them and into her mouth. Wanting to lean over the table and lick them clean, I reached for another spoonful of the dessert we shared instead. “This is the nicest day I’ve ever had,” Emily said in a tone that made me want to give her a whole string of days like this. “I don’t know how I’m going to go back to my old life now.” “You’re not,” I said, filling her wine

glass from the bottle. “You can have as many days like this as you want.” “Life doesn’t really work like that,” she said. “Why can’t it?” “I have a life, Flash. Don’t you have obligations?” She frowned, a line appearing between her brows as she contemplated a life she obviously didn’t enjoy. “Sure, I do.” I thought of The Fallen and our business. “But that’s not my whole life. You have to have something outside of your obligations. Besides, Emmy, you choose your own obligations, the same way I chose the club. The same way I

want to choose you.” She blushed, then looked at me straight on. My girl wasn’t demure. “I don’t know if you could handle me.” “Believe me, sweetheart, I’m more than willing to handle you all you want.” Her blush burned brighter and I smirked. It was going to be fun to try to cure her blushing—though I had to admit, it was kind of sexy to look up and see her cheeks go pink when I licked her pussy. Yeah, I needed this woman bad. “When I was little, I used to dream of going out to sea,” she said, taking another sip and staring out at a ship that was leaving the bay to enter open

waters. “I’d dream of stowing away.” “Where would you go?” I smiled, imagining a little girl with brown braids and big green eyes, looking at big ships dwarfed in the enormity of the ocean. “Anywhere. It wasn’t the destination, really. It was freedom. Pure freedom to do whatever I wanted. The captain would find me and agree to let me stay if I worked. So I’d get a wool cap and go out on deck in the morning and help clean the fish and get them ready for sale.” “But you didn’t care where the boat was going?” “No, I just wanted to be elsewhere,” she

said, propping her head on her hand and looking at me with a soft smile. “What did you dream about when you were little?” “Riding,” I said. “I wanted to be like my old man. He rode, so I was going to ride.” “Seems like it worked out for you.” “Yeah. I guess it did. What about you? Ever make it onto the boat?” She sighed and shook her head. “It wasn’t in the cards.” “Still could be. You’re young.” “I feel old.” The weariness in her voice wounded me. My woman shouldn’t

sound exhausted and frayed at the edges. Every instinct I had screamed for me to pick her up and carry her back to our room, to wrap her up in bed and protect her from everything that might make her sound like that. But she wasn’t mine yet. “Don’t miss out on the chance to do the things you want most, Emmy,” I said. “What do you want?” “It’s stupid.” “Tell me anyway.” “I’ve always wanted to learn to make baked Alaska.” I smiled. That would be easy enough to

give her. “When we get back to California, where will you go?” “Campus, probably.” “Cal Tech, right? Do you like it there?” “It’s a good place, but my heart wasn’t set on it. Any college would have done.” “You have three years left?” “Two.” I raised my eyebrow and she continued. “I took a lot of accelerated classes in high school and some night classes, too.” “Nice. I got good grades, but I just wanted to leave every day and get home. Why’d you take such a heavy load?” Most people in high school were more

interested in scamming beer and screwing than taking extra classes. “Seemed better than being home,” she said, ending the sentence abruptly. It was the second time Emily had indicated that something was wrong at home. “Your uncle not a great guy?” “He’s fine,” she said, but I knew a lie when I heard one and that was a whopper. Choosing not to pursue it, I asked whether she wanted to head back to the hotel. “Sure,” she said, and I could hear the nerves in her voice. Outside, we walked down the sand together. The lights of our hotel were

bright in the distance, but indistinguishable amongst all the other property lights. When Emily reached out to take my hand in her small one, I smiled and pulled her closer, keeping her warm against me from the cool winds that blew off the waves. Her shaking didn’t stop, though. “There’s nothing to be nervous about,” I told her. “I’m not going to touch you unless you want it.” Keeping my hands off her was a struggle, but she’d been through a lot of shit in a short time. I wasn’t about to make things harder on her. Besides, I wouldn’t want her under me unless she was hot, excited, soaking wet and begging for more.

“That’s not what I’m nervous about,” she said, stopping to look at me. “Then what’s wrong? You’re quiet.” “I’m worried that you won’t touch me,” she said, coming to a stop. “What?” “I practically strong-armed you into what we did the night we met. All I can think about is that I want to know what the rest is like with you, but you don’t want me.” “Don’t want you? I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” I touched her face. “What did you think I meant by what I said on the balcony?”

“Then why haven’t you touched me again?” “Fuck,” I growled, letting my shoes drop onto the sand. “That’s enough for me.” I seized her arms and pulled her close, my mouth devouring hers. I could still taste the smokiness of the wine on her tongue when I pulled it into my mouth. Her lush little body was curved against mine, soft and strong in all the right places. When she moaned, I pulled back to look at her wide eyes. “Can’t get enough of kissing you,” she murmured, pulling away and placing her hand on my cheek. “Then don’t stop.” I dragged her mouth

back to mine and kissed her trembling, swollen lips. Afraid of scaring her, I kept it soft until she nipped my bottom lip and dragged it out with a playful bite. Game on. I lost myself in her there in front of the crashing waves. Even knowing that people could look out and see us, I pushed things farther. I ran a hand up her leg in the skirt she was wearing, letting my fingers play against her thighs. Her silky skin made me want to come in my pants, but I focused on her, not my raging erection. She was perfection. “You’re wet,” I said, stroking the soft space between her thighs. “I can feel it.”

She whimpered when I teased the crotch of her panties, and I swallowed the loud cry that erupted when I pushed past the elastic and stroked her swollen slit. She was so fucking hot, and the barbarian in my chest yelled in pleasure. She’s mine. “Oh, god, Flash.” “Not yet, baby. Don’t come yet.” I wanted her wet and wanting, needed to see everything she felt for me in the most primal way. Her silky wetness coated my fingers as I stroked her clit until she was moaning. Dipping down, I kissed the vulnerable skin at her neck, then moved to lick her nipples through the thin material of the cotton tank she wore. When I sucked on one—hard—her legs

started shaking and I realized I had to pull back or I was going to lose control and take her right there in the sand. “Emmy, baby, let’s go back to the hotel.” “No, please,” she said, and I couldn’t deny her. So I slid a finger into her tight, wet channel and used my thumb to stroke her clit until her breathing changed and I felt her walls convulse around my finger. “Oh god, oh god,” she panted, her breath heavy against my ear. Her core shook, holding me tight, a preview of what it was going to be like to sink into her hot, wet depths. “That’s it, Emmy. Fuck yes, you feel so good.” I punctuated my words with

another thrust of my finger and felt her shudders strengthen. It was all I could do to not lose it right then and there. “You’re perfect,” I said when her body stilled, rubbing a hand up and down her back to soothe her. Emily’s eyes were wide and vulnerable. “That was amazing.” “I didn’t do anything for you,” she said. “Yeah,” I told her. “You did.”

Emily My legs were still shaking as I followed Flash back into our hotel room. God, I wouldn’t even let Tommy kiss me in the gym, but I let Flash put his finger inside me and get me off on a public

beach. People in the restaurant were within viewing distance, if they decided to look away from the bay. I consoled myself with the fact that it was dark enough on the sand that they couldn’t have been sure of what they were seeing…I hoped. Even so, though, I knew that I wouldn’t have changed things, even if I could. I wanted what he had to give me and I wanted it then and there. For the first time, I’d really believed that he wanted me. And that meant that just maybe there was something waiting for me in California besides another beating at my uncle’s hands and endless years of packaging and finding new, profitable

ways to sell meth. Because I want him, too. If I told Flash the truth, there was a chance that he’d help me get out. That he’d judge me never crossed my mind. It was obvious that The Fallen had their hands as deep into the drug world as I did—maybe deeper, since my uncle had some kind of prejudice against cartels. For a few years there, he’d had a wild hair to go into business with one, but it evaporated overnight like most of his grand schemes. Maybe he’d even be willing to go with me back to the house in Malibu so I could get my documents and the few

things of value I’d kept over the years. There was a stash of money, courtesy of me never eating lunch in high school, but I hadn’t been able to get it when he’d sent me away so quickly to stay at the resort. For the first time, I wondered why he’d sent me away so fast and what I would come home to find. But there was nothing I could do about it. Sighing, I thought of my room. I also had some photos of my parents, a few books I’d like to keep and a stuffed animal. If I had protection for once, getting the things and getting on with my life could be easy. But I didn’t care as much about that as I did about Flash himself. Every moment

we spent together made me happier, because I finally felt that zing I’d been waiting for since I was a little girl. When we’d been at the market, he’d made me laugh over and over. It didn’t hurt that his ass in jeans was a work of art. It would take a stronger woman than I not to ogle it, and I’d helped myself to the view more than once, skimming my gaze over the taut muscles of his ass and back. His hands on my body, pushing me over the precipice on the beach and then holding me while I came back to myself, were the most amazing things. For years, I’d avoided being touched by almost anyone, but now I craved his hands on

me. I didn’t think he could ever touch me enough for me to be satisfied. The whole way home, all I wanted was to throw him down and strip off his pants, to find that pulsing hardness that I’d only felt through clothing and to take him into my body. Flash turned back to me. “What do you want to do now?” Is he kidding? Deciding he was, I arched a brow and smiled. “I thought maybe we could read something together. Surely there’s a book somewhere in this room.” His mouth quirked. “If not, there are two in the bags still on

my bike,” he said. “Going anywhere without a book is a bad policy.” Surprised, I ended the joke. “What do you read?” “Biographies. History. I like knowing what came before.” “I didn’t know…” I was too late to stop myself from speaking. It was a surprise that such a man read for pleasure. Flash was more wild parties than nights curled up with popcorn and a book. “That I could read?” He laughed, and I relaxed. He wasn’t offended. “My parents would have tanned my hide if I didn’t appreciate a good book. Never could get into fiction, but non-fiction?

I’m down with it.” “I like fiction,” I said. “I spent a lot of time at the library in high school.” “What’s your favorite kind of story?” “Romance or fantasy, I think. Really, anything with a happy ending will do.” “Why?” His question opened me more than I was willing to be, exposing me. I wasn’t ready to share all the dark spaces in my heart with him yet. “There aren’t enough happy endings in life.” “We can make sure there are more,” he said. “You and me, together.” “I like the sound of that.” I meant it. His

inexhaustible gentleness and humor charmed me. Life with him would be more than good. “I’m glad,” he said. “And I have something for you.” “What is it?” I hadn’t gotten a present in years. My uncle wasn’t going to give me any, and Tommy didn’t believe in them. So when Flash reached out for my wrist and pulled the bracelet I’d admired out of his pocket, I gasped. “I can’t believe it.” “It’s just string, Emmy,” he said. “I’ll get you something nicer when we’re home.” “This is more than perfect,” I said while he tied it tight enough that it wouldn’t

fall off. Seeing it there, bright against my skin, I felt warmer than I ever had. “It’s wonderful. Thank you so much.” It’s strange how life can change so quickly in such a short time. I’d known men for years who I had no feelings for whatsoever—but it was different with him. Flash already felt like something I desperately needed to get through the day. When he’d walked away from me to get more food at the street fair, I’d missed him in the few moments he’d been gone. Missed him. I couldn’t recall missing anyone in my entire life, other than my parents. So instead of reiterating that happy endings are rare enough, and don’t

happen for people like us, I walked to him and wrapped my arms around him. Expecting him to continue where we’d left off on the beach, I was surprised when his arms came around me and stayed there, still. Pressed against his big body, all the nerves that had built up on the walk back drained out of me. I wasn’t fanciful about my virginity, but I was also nervous. Nothing really changes after the first time a person has sex, of course, but I’d always been worried about adding more regrets to my tab. I didn’t want Flash to be someone I regretted later. More than that, I didn’t want him to regret me. “You okay?” he asked, and the

sweetness of his voice was nearly my undoing. “I’m great,” I said, my voice muffled against his jacket. “It’s just that so much has happened.” “Life does that sometimes,” he said. “But no matter how it happened, I’m glad I’m here with you.” “I’m glad to be with you too.” I meant every word. He pulled away from me and removed his jacket so that he was clad in only a t-shirt and jeans, then reached for me. The reward for my honesty was a searing kiss. It wasn’t like the kiss on the beach, because we both knew where it

was going to end. For the first time, he didn’t hold back. His hands were like steel bands on my arms, holding me tight against him. His head lowered to mine and he kissed me until my toes curled. While his mouth worked on mine, I shivered, loving the languid thrust of his soft tongue. It was the perfect counterpoint to the rising arousal and adrenaline working its way through my body. Pressing close to him, I could feel the iron shaft trapped behind his jeans. Soon that hardness would be mine. In me. Curious, I moved my hips to rub myself against him and the hand that had been splaying over my back tightened.

“Don’t do that,” he said against my lips. “This will be over before we’ve started. I still need to get a condom.” Heady with power, I reached down between us to stroke the jeans over his length. “I like doing this,” I whispered, “I love the way you feel. And I’m on birth control.” My uncle had insisted on it when I started dating Billy. “Emily…” His breath was hot on my ear, and one of his hands dropped to tease the hem of my skirt, pushing it up. I gasped and parted my legs just a bit more. I’d never been so turned on by anything as I was by his hand sliding up my thighs while I traced the outline of his erection.

What he’d done to me on the beach had already made me melt, made me ready for him. But the fire had died to embers and now he was stoking it back up, returning me to a blaze. When his fingers hooked in the crotch of my panties and yanked them down, I buried my face in his chest. “You okay?” he asked, sliding a finger up and down my swollen folds. Knowing that it was only a taste of what was to come thrilled me. Nothing would get between us tonight—even if I was a little nervous about his huge cock pushing up into my body. A finger slipped in me and I felt my muscles flutter around it, excited. Using

both hands, I popped the button on his jeans. “Get naked,” I said. “I want to see you.” My mouth was watering with anticipation. He nodded and pulled off the t-shirt, exposing rigid muscles and the black, inky swirl of the tattoo I’d noticed before. Moving closer, I examined him, pleasure radiating through me. When I leaned forward and flicked a flat nipple with my tongue, his eyes closed. “Emily…” I put my fingers to his mouth to stop him and continued my exploration. Biting gently on his shoulder, I kissed a line down to the open fly on his jeans. My fingers ached to yank them down, to finally see the part

of him that would take me. So I did. He was so fantastic. The large head rose above the straight, pink shaft that was swollen with blood, eager to fuck me. Loving how turned on he was, I grasped the shaft and grinned when precum appeared on the head. “You like this?” “Yes,” he gritted out, his eyes hot on me. “What about this?” I leaned down to skate my tongue over his slit, swirling it through the drop of precum that had beaded there. When his massive body shuddered, I smiled and did it again.

“Emily!” he shouted, grabbing me and pulling me up to face him. Then his hands were everywhere. He stripped me the same way I stripped him, biting each of my nipples when they were revealed to him. “You drive me crazy,” he said, pulling away and licking each one. They were hard and pebbled in the cool air of the room. “Me too,” I said, taking another look at his long, lean body. “I hope so,” he said, and I wanted him to know just how much I wanted him. How much I needed him in me. Taking his hand, I brought it to the juncture of my thighs, sliding it down

over the smooth skin there. “Feel this?” I asked, stroking myself with his fingers until my eyes grew heavy with bliss. “I’m so wet for you.” “I love your pussy,” he said, taking control and stroking my clit while my hips bucked. Just when I thought he’d make me come again, he tossed me onto the bed, then knelt at the foot. Each hand wrapped around a leg and he pulled me to him. “Put your legs on my shoulders.” I obeyed, and his breath was warm against my slick heat. The part of me that was embarrassed by the strength of my response melted away when he said, “Ah, you’re perfect,” before licking me

like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted. “Flash…” I couldn’t say anything else, could only exist in the heat and slide of his tongue on my skin. I came once, my legs stiff over his shoulders while my center rocked across his face, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. So he gave me more. His tongue stroked me, ratcheting the tension higher and higher while I moaned and begged him to make me come again. When he worked a second finger into me, I nearly came apart. “I love the way your wet pussy hugs my fingers,” he said, pulling away from where he’d been lapping at my clit.

“Soon it’s going to be my cock.” “Now, please!” “Not yet.” He curved his fingers in me until they hit nerves I didn’t realize I had and everything came apart like fireworks, high in the sky, shining and dazzling over everything they touched. I was still lost, spinning in the wave of pleasure he’d created, when he pushed me back on the bed, spreading my thighs apart and positioning his thick cock against my pussy. Taking himself in hand, he rubbed his hot, hard cockhead up and down my slit while I whimpered, wanting more of the contact. “More, please. Please, Flash.”

His eyes lit when I said his name. “I need it too, Emmy,” he said, pushing just a little into my opening. As he moved deeper, I winced, but he didn’t stop. I didn’t want him to stop. His hand kept working on my clit, mixing pleasure in as he stretched me, moving deeper into my body. “Flash…” “You okay, Emmy?” “Yes,” I said, gritting my teeth. When I moved my hips to help him, his shaft slid deeper and I felt pain—but it was manageable. Nothing like I feared. Moving slow, he pushed farther into my tight channel while I tried to get used to

the feeling. When he was fully seated in me, he met my eyes. “I need you to be mine,” he said, and withdrew just a little. Losing some of the fullness made me moan and reach for his tight ass, yanking him back into me. “I’m yours,” I said, feeling my muscles squeeze his cock. “I am.” “Not just now,” he said, withdrawing and then sliding back in before I could protest. “When we get home, too. Tell me you’re going to stay with me.” Making promises was dangerous, but I wanted him so much. Not just this, the pleasure his thick shaft was giving me,

but him—Flash himself. So I gave in. “I’m going to stay with you.” He rewarded me by flexing his hips and I gasped, my fingers going to his shoulders, then sliding down his back. I could feel the muscles taut under my palms, and it made me even wetter. God, he was beautiful. “Touch your clit,” he demanded, and I let my hand fall between us, moving it over my pleasure point while he pounded into me. When his mouth dropped to suck on my nipple, I bucked against him, sliding my own body along his shaft. His eyes lit with pleasure and he started fucking me harder.

I could barely breathe while his big body was inside mine, but I didn’t feel like I needed breath. I just needed Flash to keep going, driving me up higher, closer to the explosion only he could give me. Raising my knees, I began to meet his thrusts, slamming against his body and stroking myself while he dipped and took my mouth again, his tongue delving deep in the same way his cock did. Taking both my hands, he pinned them above my head, driving into my melting body. With his free hand, he started stroking my clit. I could feel our hearts pounding in unison. I was so. Freaking. Close.

Then I came apart, climaxing on the end of his shaft while he continued plunging into me. Obeying an instinct I didn’t know I possessed, I yanked my arms free, clutched him and pulled him closer, and then he was coming, exploding outward in hot bursts that made my orgasm renew, sending me into the stratosphere. Waves of rapture washed over me while I was locked together with him, until we both stopped moving and just lie there, all breath and sweatmoistened skin. “You’re mine now,” he whispered. “You’re everything.”

Flash fell asleep after wrapping me in his arms, my face tucked under his chin. Fear rocked me, and I cuddled closer to him, trying to push it away. Before he was inside me, I never really knew what it was to want someone. Now I did, and I felt, deep down, that losing him would be like losing my parents again—not the same intensity or finality, of course, but that feeling that you’ve lost everything. The only love you have. For ten years, no one had loved me. Tonight, I found it again. Not just with anyone—with someone I wanted

desperately. I wasn’t ever going to let him go.

The next morning, I woke alone. Darting up, I searched the room for Flash and calmed when I spotted him sitting in one of the chairs by the desk. “Good morning,” I said, hesitant, as I climbed out of bed and grabbed his discarded t-shirt, throwing it over my head. “Hey you.” Flash stood up and walked over to me, pulling me close. He kissed me softly and fingered the hem of the tshirt. “Why are you covering up such a

perfect body?” I blushed and he squeezed me tighter. “What are you doing?” I gestured to the desk. “Needed to get some work done, so I had a laptop delivered this morning.” I hadn’t even realized there was one sitting in front of him. “Lots of big stuff coming up for the club, and I can’t be there in person for church today, so I’m going to speak to Piston on webcam after, see what’s being done about Manuel.” “Oh,” I said, dejected. Everyone in his club would probably hate me for what had gone down. “Who’s Piston?”

“It’s gonna be fine, Emmy.” He kissed the top of my head. “And Piston is the President of The Fallen.” “When do you need to speak to him?” “Not for a few hours. Want to head down to the beach and pass some of that time in a very small bikini?” I blushed and he slapped my ass hard. I yelped and glared at him, rubbing my posterior. Going out on the beach was incredibly appealing, even though I was sure there were other things he needed to do. But I couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to spend a little time with him before we got home and I had to tell him the truth about my uncle. About me.

“Come on, cutie,” he said, grabbing some fluffy white towels. “I’ll buy you a swimsuit in the gift shop.” Shrugging, I slipped into my skirt and a tank, then followed him out the door. Time in the sun would be nothing but good and would help both of us recharge. Hours later, we walked back into the hotel room, sun-kissed and covered with sand. Flash had rented an umbrella and some lounge chairs, then bought a cooler, drinks and snacks. By the time I joined him on the soft, white sand after changing in the cabana, he’d laid out a

fantastic spread for us. Every time we walked back to our seating area from the water, he’d ply me with fruit and sparkling water, then offer to rub sunscreen in my back. “I don’t need it every hour,” I said, squinting at him in the bright sun. “I’m tan enough that I don’t burn very quickly.” “You might not need it, but I need to put it on you.” Pleasure mixed with embarrassment as I laughed at him. I couldn’t deny that I also enjoyed his hands on my skin. We both read some of the books he’d had stowed on his bike and spent more

time swimming than lounging. He even brought some of those foam boards and went with me to catch waves. Tumbling around in the salty surf with him was perfect, and reminded me of the days at the shore with my parents. It meant a lot that he remembered. Once he’d wiped out and his body was flung onto the sand. I’d stood in the wake and laughed, my entire body heaving as I watched him pick himself up. Flash charged back into the water, swooped me up and dunked me, then had his own chuckle while I wiped my dripping hair out of my face. The salt of the sea was wet on my lips.

But it had to end. The third time I saw him check the clock on his phone, I suggested going inside, cleaning up and getting some dinner once his meeting was over. The mood between us declined as we headed back upstairs, both acutely aware that tomorrow it was back to the real world. We would have to deal with the consequences of everything that had happened since we met. We’d deal together, though. I knew that now. Since Flash had to talk to Piston, I volunteered to take the first shower. Okay, well, I actually gave up on the plan to seduce him in the shower.

Undressing, I grabbed my toothbrush. The hotel toothpaste was all used up from the day before and that morning, so I started to head back out to get the bottle packed in the backpack and then stopped dead in the hall when I overheard a snippet of conversation. “So you found the meth dealer?” Flash’s voice was deeper than I’d heard it before. Annoyed and surprised. My skin prickled. “He’s been clever, but a source put us onto his location. It’s confirmed.” Piston’s voice was muffled through the speakers, but I could hear it well enough. Every part of me knew that going back into the bathroom and

abandoning eavesdropping was the right thing to do, but I had to know. “So what’s the next step?” “I told him five years ago to get the fuck out of California. He’s not flooding the streets with his substandard shit and taking away our clients. Especially not now.” “What’s so special about now?” “We’re going to get a huge shipment from the cartel once Manuel settles the fuck down.” “Do you think he’s going to keep working with us?” “He doesn’t have much choice if he

wants to push his shit here. We’ve got the whole city locked down or at least we did before the meth trickle became a deluge six years ago.” “So who is this fucker and where is he? I’ve been dying to find out since Cracker died without telling us the fuckhead’s name.” “Name is Dale and he lives up in Malibu. Lives in some shit-fancy fucking house right on the water. We’ll go in there and take them all down.” Take them all down? I thought of the people working there, who didn’t deserve to be killed. I thought of Tommy, who ran errands and packed for my uncle. Even my uncle, for all his vile behavior,

crossed my mind. No. “No warning?” “He got his warning years ago and decided to keep pushing.” “When are you going in?” Flash’s voice was cold enough that I felt goosebumps sweep across my body. Gone was the gentle man who’d protected me and cradled me. Here was the person buried deep beneath that, the biker. The one percenter. He had a self that was hidden below the surface. Kind of like me. “No rush,” Piston said. I heard him yell

something incoherent. “Sorry about that. Guys are getting restless.” “Why?” “Not keen on letting them go out until Manuel is appeased. He’s a crazy fucker.” “Told you we shouldn’t be working with him.” “You’ve told me a lot of things, Flash. Doesn’t mean you get to make all the choices. I wouldn’t give up on that money anyway.” “So when are you going to Malibu?” “We’ll wait until you’re back. How long is it going to be?”

“Tomorrow night we’ll cross the border, then I’ll head for LA. Less than a week.” “Fine. We’ll go when you’re back. You bringing that girl with you?” “She’s mine.” Flash’s voice went stone cold when he spoke. It was final. I was his. Except that now I could never be. “Whatever man.” Piston changed the topic to issues raised at the club meeting and I went back into the bathroom without grabbing the things from my pack, my head swirling. The Fallen were going to kill Dale. I hated Dale.

But I didn’t hate every person who worked in the house. Some of the people who cut and prepared the shipments were actually good people with families. I thought of Ken’s newborn son. His father didn’t have any education and with a few arrests on his record, couldn’t make enough money doing anything other than drug running. He didn’t deserve to die. Flashing back to Santiago’s face when my bullet slammed into him and made him less than human, I superimposed Ken’s image over it in my head, then Tommy’s, and shuddered. I stepped into the hot shower and let the water rinse over me, cleaning the sand from my body

while I struggled with the fact that I was going to have to leave the man I thought I was falling in love with. To save everyone in the compound, I was going to have to get away from him after we crossed the border and let Dale know that it was time to move immediately. Lucky for me—for him— I’d convinced him to buy a second house in his dead wife’s name years before that sat empty. It’d be an easy matter to relocate there. We’d worked out the plan during one of his rare lucid times, when he listened to reason. Thank god. Part of me wanted to stay with Flash.

Another part of me knew that if I did, everyone I’d known for years would die bloody and screaming—because I hadn’t warned them what was going to happen. So I leaned against the tile wall, took three deep breaths, and started the process of letting Flash go. It was all I could do.

Flash I was in love with her. When we’d come back from grabbing dinner on the boardwalk the night before, I’d gotten deep into some spreadsheets the club needed balanced.

Even though it was early, Emily fell asleep on top of the quilt. Figuring the sun had knocked her out, I let her sleep instead of waking her in the hopes of sinking back into her sweet pussy. She had to be sore from the night before. I could wait. Worries dogged me as I watched sitcoms until late into the night. Tomorrow we’d be on the road again, and she wasn’t guaranteed a warm welcome at the club. I’d claimed her, though, so they’d deal with it. Once they got to know her and saw her sweetness, her bravery, they’d come to love her as much as I did. Or I’d break their fucking jaws. Love had knocked me down for the count

and I wasn’t getting back up any time soon. Dad always told me that you know when you know, whether it’s bikes or women and now I knew it was completely, 100 percent true. That girl in my bed was mine. Before I fell asleep, I tucked her into my arms. The next morning, she was already up and making coffee on the dresser by the time I pulled my ass out of bed, again proving that she was the only one who could move around a room without waking me. Dressed in simple jeans and a t-shirt, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. When I kissed her good morning, her hands were tense against my back and I wondered whether she was worried about heading to the

club. “Don’t worry about The Fallen, sugar,” I told her, accepting the cup of coffee she handed me and drinking the weak brew without a word of complaint. “I’m not,” she said. “I just have a lot on my mind.” Her voice sounded tired. “We’ll get everything straightened out as soon as we’re home.” I wondered again how she’d feel about sharing my room at the club, then rejected that shit. A girl like Emily needed her own space, and I wasn’t about to ask her to share air with the rejects that came to the parties Piston threw. Whores and addicts weren’t the kind of people a soft girl like her needed

to be around. I’d find somewhere with a lot of light and a damn good security system. For all her bravery, she was still incredibly soft. Protecting her had to be my first priority. Her softness was one thing that worried me more than I let on. If she wasn’t cut out for life in the club, which I needed like oxygen, I didn’t know if I’d be able to let her go. No way would I become some suit-wearing banker who drinks liquor at lunch and drives home in a fucking sedan, though. Maybe there was some kind of compromise. Truth was, I loved running drugs for the cartel. It might have been a shitty thing to do, but we only sold to people who

knew what the fuck they were getting into. The money was good and I felt clean enough. She wouldn’t understand, though. The entire time Piston was going on about killing that meth-pusher in Malibu, all I could think was that Emmy wouldn’t want to be with a man who was a killer. A girl like that wants a guy who’s pure and wears khakis. Someone with health insurance and a retirement plan. Maybe she deserved a clean guy like that. I’d cut down every one of those cargo pants-wearing motherfuckers if they touched her, though. Sighing, I wrapped my arm around her while she checked her email on the

laptop I’d brought alone for the ride. “You know that you can’t tell people what happened down here, right baby?” “I know.” I hated the tension in her words. “If you need to talk to someone, maybe you could see a counselor.” At the very least, I’d introduce her to my mother. Mom was a social worker back in the day and was great at listening to people who needed it. “I think they have to report murders,” she said, shrugging. “I feel fine, though.” I wasn’t so sure. Since we’d woken up, it felt like Emily had shut me down a little. When we kissed, she was as open

and sweet as she had been since the first time—but if we weren’t touching, it was like she was a million miles away. Her eyes wandered over everything but me, as if she couldn’t bear to look at me. “We’re going to cross the border today,” I said, making another attempt at a normal conversation. I’d been dreading explaining to her how it would work at first, but as I’d come to know her better, it stopped worrying me. She was a stand up girl. She’d handle it. “How am I going to get across?” “There’s a place where we move people, but we can’t take the bike. Two of my brothers are going to meet me and take the bike through the real border,

then leave it at the hotel.” “Will I meet them?” “Nah. You stay here and have some breakfast while I go swap my bike for the car we’re going to take to our way through.” Piston had dispatched Mudd and Jackson to pick up my bike. They were waiting next to it in the parking lot when I emerged from the hotel. “Long way to come just so you can take a bitch over the border,” Mudd said. “Fuck you, brother. Don’t call her a bitch.” “That serious?” Jackson smiled. “Good

for you, man.” “Sorry, Flash.” I shook Mudd’s hand to let him know there were no hard feelings. Mudd was a little clumsy with words, but he was a good man. “So what’s the plan?” “We’re going to ditch the car, head through the drain tunnel and then head up the highway a few miles to the hotel.” “Is she up for it?” “She’s game.” “Of course she is, Mudd,” Jackson said, rolling his eyes. “Flash wouldn’t take some weak ass woman as his own.” “True that,” Mudd said. “So Jackson and

I argued over it, but he’s going to take your bike home.” “Thank Christ,” I said. Mudd was known for eating pavement from time to time and I didn’t want any new dings on my baby. “We’ll do you one better, even,” said Jackson, laughing, “If you have a spare set of keys, I’ll drop your bike just south of the tunnel. That way you don’t have to walk all the way to the hotel and tire out your lady.” I smiled. Emily may have been worried about meeting my brothers, but soon enough she’d see that they were gonna be an asset in her life. Once someone

was a member of The Fallen or claimed by one of the members, we took care of them. No matter what. “Thanks, man. I appreciate that.” “No big deal. We have to run straight back up to LA, though. Piston is being a real bitch about this meth bullshit.” “Why? Shouldn’t be a difficult thing.” “Yeah, but Manuel is breathing down his neck about it. I don’t know why he gives a fuck. It’s not like it’s stopping us from moving his shit. I think he’s just pissy about what went down with you.” “Fuck. I couldn’t just leave her to die.” “No one is pissed, man. We’d have taken

this meth junkie out eventually anyway. This just moved up our time table and lit a fire under the guys that were on the lookout. Manuel knew he couldn’t retaliate against you without starting a war he can’t win.” The enforcers of the Deleon Cartel, like the other workers, didn’t have near as much respect for Manuel as they had for his decreased brother. A few minutes later, my own brothers were gone. Watching my Harley ride away sucked, but it was the price of getting Emily over the border. Piston had offered to send a guide to take her so I could ride my own machine home, but I wouldn’t leave her alone. I wouldn’t

ever leave her alone again.

Emily Once Flash had his bike back, we found a place to stay for the night. Getting across the border was surprisingly easy. I’d pictured running from shadowed men with guns, but

ultimately it was like taking a brisk, nervous nature hike. Once we’d trudged our way through a damp, moldy drain tunnel, it was pretty much over. Shivering, I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, remembering the way chill air clung to my skin in the concrete walls. Made me sad to think of little children forced over the border by their terrified parents or, worse, coyotes. But we’d emerged intact and Flash’s bike was close enough that I wasn’t even tired by the time we reached the hotel room. It was for the best. There was a lot to be done, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to sleep that night. “You tired?” Flash asked. He was. When

I’d slept the night before, he’d been burning both ends of the candle to get things done for The Fallen. He was pacing around the room restless already; he knew something was wrong with me and didn’t like that I wasn’t sharing. I wasn’t a good enough actress to pretend that things were as they’d been that day on the beach. So I just said, “Really tired. Feels like I can’t get enough sleep. I keep dreaming about Santiago.” That much, at least, was true. “We’ll sleep in tomorrow, but then we’re riding hard to LA.” “Sounds like a plan.” The real plan— even if Flash didn’t know it—was for me to take off once he was asleep. Dale

would wire me money and we’d meet up in Dana Point. If I had to kill any chance of keeping the happiness I’d found with Flash to prevent more needless death, then that was what I would do. “What’s on your mind, Emily?” Flash broke through the invisible barrier between us and pulled me against his chest. “I can see that you’re unhappy. Let me help you.” The weakness that still lived in me wanted to give in, to explain everything and cry in his arms. But the people he’d talked about killing on the phone included me. He’d agreed to kill me, even if he didn’t realize it. The tenuous bond we’d created over the last few

days wouldn’t hold up when it came up against his loyalty to The Fallen. When you get right down to it, I’d only known him for about a week. No way was he about to trade The Fallen for me. No, there was a slim chance he’d filet me right now, before going and finishing the job at Dale’s. Then I’d have made it out of Mexico just to die in a cheap hotel room in California. I couldn’t take that chance. “Nothing, really.” I smiled at him, even though my lips trembled. “I’m just worried about going home.” The less I lied, the more he would believe me. “My uncle isn’t my favorite person and I guess I was looking forward to being

somewhere else for the rest of the summer.” His brow furrowed and I realized how ungrateful I must have sounded. “Flash, I won’t ever be able to tell you just how happy I am that you saved me. I didn’t mean otherwise.” “I didn’t think you did,” he explained, “but why would you go home to him? You have a place with me now.” I laughed to cover the frantic sob building in my throat. “It’s been a damn week. You can’t expect me to just move in with you after a week. Are you crazy? Is it like this with every woman you meet?” “No, damn it, Emily. You’re different

than anyone I’ve ever met and that’s why I know. Deep down here,” he thumped on his chest, “that you’re mine. I want to take care of you.” His words, though kind, broke my heart into pieces. “You can’t take care of me,” I said. “I’m a grown woman. I have to take care of myself.” “We can take care of each other, Emmy.” “No,” I said. I should have stopped. I should have let him lie down and sleep thinking things were okay, but I couldn’t walk out like this and let him wake up confused and alone. “It doesn’t work like that. Not after a week.” “Then stay with me and let me prove it to you. What are you going back to?

Your fucking uncle who you hate?” “No, Flash.” “What were the last few days then? Gratitude?” His fists clenched at his sides and I braced myself without meaning to. Too many times a curled fist had been the only warning sign before I was bleeding. He caught the motion and let his fingers unfurl. “You think I’d hit you?” “No,” I said, but what I meant was yes. Not him, but anyone has a breaking point and I seem to be the one who always ends up with the bruises. “Who fucking hits you?” Flash’s voice was arctic.

“No one.” “Who?” “My fucking uncle, okay?” I turned away from him, not wanting to see the pity that would flare up in his eyes when he realized just how pathetic I really am. Moments passed without a response while I studied the pattern carved around the mirror above the dresser. It was a clean mirror. Flat too. Probably good for cutting meth, I mused. When I couldn’t take the silence any more, I looked back at Flash over my shoulder. Fury, not pity, burned in his eyes. “It’s okay,” I said, softer now. “It’s less

now that I’m older.” “That piece of shit hit you when you were a child?” The words pushed between the flat line of his lips like he couldn’t wait to have them out of his mouth. Made sense. Flash was the kind of man who’d never hit a child. “There’s no reason to be angry.” “I have every reason to be angry. You should be angry.” He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, each muscle loosening while he waited for me to respond. “It’s just how it is.” “Not how it should be. I’m going to kill that fucker.” Yeah, sooner than you

think. “No.” “Why not?” “I don’t want anyone else to die for me.” At odd moments, killing Santiago would pop into my mind, like an embarrassing childhood moment you can’t forget. I meant what I said—no more life should be extinguished on my behalf or by my hand. “You’re not saying he deserves to live.” I shrugged. “That’s not our choice to make.” “I’m going to go take a shower.” Flash turned on his heel and headed for the bathroom I’d recently left. I heard the

water turn on and sat on the edge of the bed. Quickly, listening to the shower, I wrote a note explaining that I had to get home and on with my life. Thanking him for saving me and promising that I’d pay it forward, I signed it Love, Emily. Then I crossed out love and replaced it with thank you. I didn’t deserve to love him. Once that was done, I yelled to him that I was going to the lobby to get us some drinks. He grunted and I dashed out the door, grabbing some money from his wallet to hide my true purpose. The lobby was not as clean as the room we’d been given. It looked like an old ballroom that had one been the site of

fancy gatherings, but now was basically an ashtray with a lot of floor space. I approached the desk clerk and waited for him to look up from the video he was watching. “Can I help you?” “I need to make a phone call. Can you direct me to a payphone?” “They all got pulled out a long time ago,” he said. “But you can use the phone in your room if you dial 9 for an outside line.” “I would, but it needs to be private.” “I understand,” he said, pity in his eyes. “Here, use mine.” He handed me a smartphone. “It has unlimited minutes, so

talk as long as you want. I’ll just be watching this.” I thanked him and walked across the room. Blocking the number, I called Dale. “What?” “Uncle Dale? It’s Emily.” “Where the fuck are you, girl? Heard you left the resort and didn’t come back.” Thought you cut and ran for good. A sense of wrongness swept through me. He shouldn’t have had any way of knowing I left the resort. When I left for the summer, it was agreed that we wouldn’t be in contact. “I had things to do at home,” I said.

“Tommy cheated.” “Big surprise there. Tried to tell you that kid was a loser.” “Right,” I said, then steeled myself for the explosion. None was forthcoming. I wondered whether he’d taken something to mellow himself out. “Anyway, this is really important. Are you okay to listen and understand or do I need to talk to Ken?” Ken was the third in command, under myself and Dale. “I’m with it,” he snapped. “Now start talking or I’m going back to listening to the TV, which I actually give a shit about.” Usually his anger would have made me wince in fear, but this time I felt calm.

Controlled. “Someone is coming to kill you,” I said. “What?” “The Fallen Motorcycle Club is coming to take you out. They know you’re in Malibu. Someone flipped on us.” “Who?” “I don’t know. Find that out yourself,” you useless old bastard, I finished. “Either way, you need to pack up and get out of there tonight. Get to Dana Point. Wire me some fucking money in the next two hours.” “Where?” I ran across the room to the desk clerk and asked for the location of the nearest

gas station that did money transfers. “It’s about an hour on ahead,” he said, “but I can take you when my shift is over.” “When is that?” “Three in the morning. I’m just filling in for someone else.” “Thank you,” I said. I walked away again and gave Dale the name of the gas station. “Give my Dad’s name and the address of the family house. Make sure I’ll know the answers to any security questions. I need enough to get home from the border.” “Got it,” he said. “The money will be there.”

“Can you get everyone out tonight?” “I’m doing it,” he said, subdued. “We’ll see you in Dana Point.” “Okay. Goodbye.” “Hey, Emily?” “Yeah?” “Thanks.” I hung up the phone and returned it to the clerk, then confirmed our time to leave. Explaining that I had to go back to my room and wait for my boyfriend to fall asleep, I left the man there, his eyes glued to the screen again. On the way out, I grabbed a few sodas and a bottle of water from vending.

“Took you awhile,” Flash said when I got back into the room. His slim waist was wrapped in a towel that left very little to the imagination. Shameless, I ogled him, mindful that soon I wouldn’t be able to see the tan expanse of his chest or the rippled muscles of his arms at all. The urge to trace my fingers over his tattoo was so strong that my fingers twitched. “I couldn’t decide,” I said, “and then I got caught up in a movie the desk clerk was watching.” “Want to put it on up here?” he asked, handing me the remote. “No,” I said. “I want something else.” Reaching out, I pushed him down into

the bed, then dropped to my knees. “You had your turn, now I want mine.” Maybe it was wrong to be with a man hours before you’re going to leave him without a word, but I had to know what Flash tasted like. Had to give him and myself that before I left and never saw him again. He laid there, his eyes surprised and excited while I peeled off the towel and bent down to kiss his cock, which leapt to attention under my mouth. Excitement lifted some of the depression that had been stalking me when I saw his hips move as I licked the taut head. His precum beaded the tip, so I licked it again and watched his pupils expand.

“Emily,” he groaned when I sucked him between my lips, “you’re killing me.” His hand lightly stroked my hair while I bobbed up and down on his shaft, loving the clean taste of him against my tongue. “Not yet,” I said against his skin, “but give me time.” I swirled my tongue over his pulsating head before going deep on his cock. Looking up through my eyelashes, I saw the fierce, hungry look in his eyes. He loved what I was doing. Emboldened, I wrapped my hand around the base and started to suck harder. “God, you’re hard,” I said, marveling at his erection when I popped my mouth off to tongue the head, then draw a line down the shaft with the point of my

tongue. His body flexed, so I did it again, following my mouth back up with my hand to stroke him. “For you,” he said, his words sliding out between deep breaths. I liked that a little too much. His hands were light on my head, but I could feel them tense, as if he wanted to push down but was restraining himself. With a deep breath, I pulled him back into my mouth and sucked hard. Creating a rhythm, I moved up and down while playing my tongue over his heated skin. “Emily,” he roared, his entire body shaking. “You have to stop, I’m going to .” He tried to pull back, but my lips were a tight seal around him. I wanted

everything he had to give me. “Fuck,” he gritted out, then his cock jerked in my mouth and he was coming. I swallowed the warm fluid, lapping at him while he thrust against my lips, still lust-maddened. One of his big hands came down to stroke my breast, cupping it through the shirt until he was calm again. I stood and smiled at him, wondering how I’d get through my life without doing that with him again. “You’re amazing,” he said, pulling me down against his chest. I nuzzled his neck and smiled at the deep laugh that rumbled out through his chest. “I really like you.”

“I really like you too,” I said. I kissed him and looked deep into his eyes. They were relaxed, happy. Tomorrow I had a feeling things would be very different. “In another life,” I told him, wanting to leave him with something, “I’d have spent my whole life with you.” “You’re still young,” he said, misunderstanding. “There’s plenty of life left.” He tucked me against him, pulling me close enough that there was no space between our bodies, then rolled to the side. I used my foot to snag the sheets that had bunched up at the bottom of the bed and pulled them up and over us. Steeling myself against trembling, which

I knew he’d notice, I took a deep breath and curled against him, knowing it would be the last time I’d feel his body under my hands. Once his breathing was deep and even, I kissed his forehead. “I more than like you,” I said, soft. Tears threatened to fall, but I held them back. There’d be plenty of time for tears when I was away from Flash. His face was relaxed, smooth and young-looking in a way it never appeared when we were out on the road. My muscles tensed to run a hand over his forehead, to brush back the lock of hair that had fallen near his eyes—but then he’d wake, and if I saw his perfect

smile even once more, I didn’t know that I’d have the strength to leave. Standing up, I put on the cheapest of the clothes he’d bought for me, and then threw on the leather jacket with the note I’d written in the pocket as an afterthought. I tidied up my things and his, puttering around the room with quiet movements, careful not to wake him. Opening the bottle of water I’d carried up, I took a long swallow, then threw it in the trash. Taking off the expensive jacket, I set it down quietly next to the note. By all rights I should have left the rest of the clothing, too, but getting to Dana Point naked would cause the kind of problems

I wasn’t equipped to deal with. The bracelet, too, should be left behind, but I couldn’t bear to cut if off. So I set the key to the room on the table, turned the knob and stepped silently into the damp, cold night. Police sirens echoed in the distance. I took a deep breath, then headed for the lobby.

Flash “Word is, he barely runs the operation anymore. Some jackass who tells people where to put it and how to sell it is in charge. Couldn’t get the fucker’s name, though.”

“Why do you care? The street traffic has dried up. Fuck Dale and his jackass. Let’s just let it go.” Piston had a way of digging his teeth into things that pissed me off lately. I didn’t give a fuck about some escaped meth dealers. Let them do their shit as long as it wasn’t close to me. “No. Fucker defied me and he’s still dealing meth in LA. I don’t care if it’s cut down 90 percent—I’m still seeing that shit on the streets.” “Fine,” I told him, shrugging. “We’ll kill him then.” Whatever. “The asshole too.” “I’ll take care of it personally,” I said, hoping that would be enough to soothe

him so he would go the fuck away. Killing an idiot isn’t really my style, and you’d have to be an idiot to keep dealing when Piston calls a halt, but it wasn’t like it would take up my whole weekend. “Make sure you do. We’re still cleaning up the mess you made in Mexico.” Thanks for the reminder. Mexico was something I’d been trying to forget for the last six months. Give your heart to a woman and she’ll cut it out and leave without so much as a kiss goodbye. I’d tried to track her and ended up at a dead end every time. Either she had someone waiting to take her away or she vanished into the fucking night.

At least she left a note. If there’d been a chance Emily was dead, I’d still be hunting her down. “Flash. Brother. You in there?” Piston picked up an Xbox controller and threw it at me. It bounced off my leg and hit the floor with a smash. “What the fuck?” “You sure you’re good to do this? I know I said it’s your mess, but what’s yours is ours. I’ll run up and do it for you, if you’re not able.” “Why wouldn’t I be able?” “No offense intended, but you haven’t exactly been stable since you got home.” Couldn’t take offense to the truth. Fact

is, losing Emily put me out of my mind for a few months. Finding out that she wasn’t really a student at Cal Tech—or that she’d given me the wrong name— knocked me right over the edge into insane. If Dad and Piston hadn’t pulled me back and given me a few bruises, I might still be out there threatening people and trying to track down one beautiful woman who didn’t want me. I’d been so fucking blind. Everything I’d read from her: her smile, her laugh, the way she clutched me tighter in bed, it all said that she wanted to be with me. When I thought we were falling together, I was really being knocked off the Grand Canyon without a rope.

All because I was too fucking stupid to see that the trauma from having to kill a man was clouding her mind and actions. I’d realized it after months of pining for her by trying to drown myself in whiskey. While my brothers took it on the chin to deal with Manuel’s insane requests, I got drunk and blacked out. Repeatedly. Once I’d gotten rid of the bottle, I saw two things. She never really wanted me and I wasn’t being the kind of brother that mine deserved. So I’d cleaned my shit up and gotten back to what really mattered: The Fallen. When I’d shown up at church that Friday without smelling like a distillery, there

was relief in the air, like my brothers knew I was back. The books were a tangled mess from being left alone for too many months, so I’d spent another few weeks up to my elbows in numbers, making everything right. That’s when I saw the damage I’d done to the club. We’d lost 75 percent of our income from the cartel thanks to me. Now my brothers were reduced to doing runs for 25 percent of our original take. Still didn’t regret it, though. Her running out on me didn’t make me wish she’d died in the desert. No, my feelings hadn’t changed a bit, even when I’d wised up enough to realize what a sucker I’d been, thinking she could

really feel something when she was so traumatized. Now, though, those protective feelings were tinged with acid. She was lucky I hadn’t found her, because I wouldn’t have let her walk out the door again. “I’m going to do it,” I assured Piston, pushing off the couch. “Tonight. I just want shit to get back to normal.” “What about the girl?” “She’s the past.” Because I couldn’t find her. “You sure about that?” I was closer to Piston than anyone else in the club, except for my father. He might be able to see right through me, but that didn’t mean we were about to have a heart to heart

about my girl troubles. “I got it.” “Alright. You’re in charge, then. Decide who’s going with you and make sure that you bring back the hands of the two ringleaders.” “What the fuck?” “I know, man. I hate this cartel bullshit, too. But we can’t exactly switch sides now and it would take all of us down to cross him. Once he gets the hands and confirms the fingerprints, we’re back in the green.” “Fine.” Distaste washed over me and I headed out to find my father. He’d been close with Rafael, Manuel’s brother, and

would be able to give me a better angle on exactly what was going on. Not for the first time, I regretted all the lost months where I only lived to find Emily and make sure she was okay. I’m so fucking out of the loop. “Hey, buddy.” Dad was sitting on my bed, leafing through one of the books I kept in my desk. “I thought I might be hearing from you today.” “Why’d you think that?” “The hands. Knew you wouldn’t like it.” Good call. “Why are we doing that shit?” “Because we need to clear the air. Then maybe we’ll get out.” Dad had voted to

shut down relations with the cartel when Rafael had curled up his toes, so this wasn’t news to me. I rocked back on my heels and stared at him. “What?” “Why now? Why not a year ago?” “I voted against this then.” “You barely said a word at the vote. You could have swayed it.” “Yeah, but that’s not how we do shit.” Dad shook his head and set down the book, leaving it open to the page he’d been reading. “Each brother makes up his own mind. I think Manuel is bad news, but I didn’t have evidence I could share until now.” “Did you have evidence you couldn’t

share?” Dad fixed me with the blank stare he gets when he’s not going to tell me something I want to know. Rage was hot on the heels of disbelief, but I didn’t say anything. No point in wasting my breath. The man was more bull headed than an actual bull. “Are you going to kill these people tonight?” “Do you think I shouldn’t? Why did you come up here anyway if you’re just going to stonewall me?” “To see my son. And these people are meth dealers. Dale is literally the scum of the Earth.” “You know him?”

“Yeah, I recognized his name. His brother is a good guy, though. I knew him in the Army and you played with his adopted daughter when she was a kid.” “But you still want me to kill him?” “Like I said, Dale isn’t the same as his brother. I can live with his death. I can’t live with yours.” “Is that a possibility?” “Manuel threw it out there, but Piston knocked it right back down. Pretty much said that we’d be gunning for Manuel if it came to that—and you know all his men aren’t down-to-the-bones loyal to him. He wasn’t sure if he could stand up to the full strength of The Fallen, I think.”

“I figured he’d want me dead.” “He doesn’t anymore. Seems more important to him that he kills Dale and the poor fucker who’s working for him.” “Got it,” I told him. I didn’t think I’d ever been so annoyed at being sent out by the club. It wasn’t the first time I’d killed for The Fallen and I doubted it would be the last, but to kill at the behest of a man like Manuel left a bad taste in my mouth. “Been feeling okay lately?” Dad had taken Mom on an extended vacation to the tropics. They’d come back red, happy and totally out of the loop right as I’d limped home from Mexico. “I’m fine,” I said, and I meant it.

“Your mother is worried about you. Try to stop by the house if you get a chance, or ask her to lunch or something. I don’t care how old you are. The woman frets over you.” Dad sure knew how to lay on the guilt. “I’ll do it tomorrow.” “That’s real good, son.” I rolled my eyes. “Any other words of wisdom you want to impart?” “Not at this exact moment,” he said. “Then I’m going to go take a ride.” “Want company?” I started to refuse, but then I looked at the old man. His pale blue eyes were bright.

“Sure,” I said. “Grab your gear and let’s head up to the diner. I could use some eggs and bacon.”

Emily I stitched through the thick brown fabric and sealed off the bag of coffee beans, adding it to the pile. A person going through the bag would find something a little more stimulating than java, though.

As long as it’s not the customs officials… “I’m done for the day,” I said, turning to Tommy and wiping sweat from my forehead. “Can you please get the damn air conditioning fixed before we start up tomorrow?” “Dale said he doesn’t want to spend the money.” “What?” “You making him stop street dealing cost us all a lot of money and he doesn’t want to waste any of what we have on air conditioning.” “What he’s putting up his nose every day would pay for the repairs. Either he does

it, or I’m walking.” “We both know that’s not true.” Tommy leaned back in his chair and pushed away the unfinished bag of coffee in front of him. “You’re here for life.” He didn’t say it unkindly. It still stung. He was probably right, but that didn’t mean I’d take oven-level temperatures lying down. Dale’s nonsense had gotten harder to bear since I was almost killed and even if Tommy didn’t know it, I was making plans for something better. Giving the guys a head’s up about the bikers who’d come close to killing them had earned me a real salary, even if it was pathetically small.

Another year and a half, and I’d be able to get my own apartment and start taking classes. By then, I’d figure out how to move out without Dale tracking me down and finishing the job Santiago started that day in the desert. For an extra kick in the teeth, Tommy was working with Dale full time by the time I got home. The first thing he did when I walked through the door, disgusting and sweaty from hours on a bus, was wrap his arms around me and promise we’d work through things. “Fucking other women doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” he said, his breath sickly sweet with the smell of cheap beer. His arms felt small and weak after

the perfect beauty of Flash’s. “Not interested,” I snapped, pulling away. “I need to go to bed.” “Dale wants to see you,” he’d told me, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. “He said to send you in as soon as you got here.” “I’ll talk to him after I sleep.” I couldn’t even get scared at the prospect of confronting Dale. I was too tired. Missing Flash had wrecked me. He reached out and grabbed my arm, digging his fingers into my skin. “Now, Emily.” “I’m going. I’m going.” No point in starting a fight on the first day back.

Walking through the halls of the house at Dana Point, I remembered how much I’d loved it when Dale purchased it. The wooden supports were the perfect complement to the white walls, and the views of the ocean were spectacular. I even had a bedroom here with no stains on the floor, a nice bed and a private bathroom. The house in Malibu was messed up by the time I moved into my room, so there had been cigarette burns on the carpet and stains on the walls. Here everything was clean. I could look outside and watch ships bob on the waves while breathing in cool, fresh air. If I wasn’t working in the converted garage, I spent most of my time in my

room. “You’re home,” Dale said when I pushed through the door of the den. “That’s true. Thanks for sending me the money.” “Thanks for saving all of us.” He was less cocky than usual, and at least halfsober. Reminded me of the man he’d been when I’d first gone to live with him and thought maybe he could love me. “I didn’t want anyone to die.” “Thought you’d be happy to see the end of me.” “Sometimes,” I admitted before I could stop myself. “But I’m glad you’re not

dead.” He nodded. “We’re setting up in the garage. Can you help supervise it tomorrow?” “Of course.” Excitement flashed through the numbness I’d cloaked myself in when I left Flash. For years, I’d been telling Dale that we could do better if he’d let me set up a more efficient line. More efficiency meant more money meant me squirreling more away and getting out sooner. “Thanks,” he said again. “Good to have you home.” The first words of affection he’d ever spoken to me would have once been

enough for hope, but now I just didn’t care anymore. Nodding, I left the room. Two weeks later, he was back to his old tricks—but worse. When he wasn’t so high he laid on the couch staring at nothing, he was abusing everyone. I took the brunt of it, and kept working hard during the day. When profits came in, I started taking more and putting it away. Building a nest egg. Dreaming of escape. But the angrier Dale became—for no reason I could see—the more I felt like I needed to stick around. Workers sometimes brought their kids by, no matter how often I cautioned them that it

was a bad idea with Dale so unstable. If I was there, I was his favorite target and I could be sure that no one else got hurt. “You’re going to get me killed,” he mumbled one day after punching me in the face hard enough that I worried my cheekbone would shatter. “I hope so,” I muttered, unsure what he meant. Tommy had come in and helped me to my room, then to a clinic where I’d used part of my nest egg to cover x-rays. Everything was fine, but the doctors had looked at us from the corners of their eyes in a way that meant I’d never go back.

Thinking of the past six months made me feel ill. It was like I was stuck in stasis. If I left, everyone here would be worse off. If I stayed, my life would continue descending into a nightmare without the reprieve of waking up. The world was a hard place and Dale still wouldn’t give me my damn birth certificate so I could go get an ID that might lead to real employment. I’d work as a waitress, I decided. As soon as I had enough to get me through two years of college, I’d leave and start a new job. Even if it didn’t give me the adrenaline rush this one did, at least it would provide some income while I worked toward a better future.

On paper, I was poor enough to get financial aid—but colleges use your parents’ income, which means that Dale would have to sign off on it. Since he wouldn’t, I had no way to go until I was either 24 or had money saved. The few classes I’d taken at Cal Tech when I was still in high school had been so eye-opening and more fun than I was used to. I wanted that again. “What’s with you?” Tommy asked when the silence stretched out between us. I reached over, took half his unfinished coffee bags and started to sew them closed. The meth inside would fetch us a tidy sum when it was shipped out to Hawaii.

“Nothing,” I said. “You could work a little faster.” “Why bother? I’ve got nowhere to be.” “I do.” “Where?” “Away from you.” The months of being forced into close quarters with Tommy had taken a toll on me. Now when I looked at him, I couldn’t figure out why I’d stayed so long. The allure of a man free of chemicals was much stronger than the tweaky childishness of his face. Once he’d been handsome. The meth had robbed him of that. Again, regret for the person he’d been washed over me. “Don’t be like that, Emmy.”

“Don’t call me that.” “Sorry.” He looked down like I’d slapped him and I sighed. “It’s fine. I’m in a bad mood. Why don’t you leave me to this and go get some food?” I wasn’t allowed to leave without supervision, but Tommy came and went as he pleased. That meant that when he was in an amicable mood, I could get pizza or Chinese food. “Really?” “Sure.” I reached across the table and grabbed some money from the lockbox. “Get whatever you want. Just get some for me too.” “How about subs?”

“Sounds good.” After he left, I worked more quickly. Selling meth-stuffed coffee bags to Hawaiian buyers was one of my more clever ideas. Meth was prominent in Hawaii, and expensive. By cutting out the middle man and selling online, we were making way more money than we would if we went direct through island dealers. It was also safer, because once the packages were shipped, no one knew who sent them. Dale had raged when I’d insisted on pulling our product off the streets in LA, but he’d done it regardless when I explained why The Fallen were coming for him.

Once all the bags were done and ready for Ken to take them to the drop point tomorrow, I leaned back in my chair and took a deep breath. My anxiety had gotten worse since getting home and sometimes it was like herds of elephants were stampeding over my chest. Missing Flash was so tangible that thinking of him actually hurt, but I couldn’t stop playing a loop of him inside me whenever I closed my eyes. The sun was starting to creep down, and I decided I’d grab a bottle of beer and enjoy it on the balcony. When Tommy came back, he’d be able to find me and deliver the food he’d purchased. If the boy would stop trying to get in my pants,

we might actually have a nice time just sitting together and talking. With that hope bright in my mind, I changed into a white sundress and sandals, grabbed a red cardigan, pulled my hair down and headed out to watch the sun set. I’d have to stop and talk to Dale first about shipping things out tomorrow—and he was going to be pissed it wasn’t done today—but hopefully he’d be too doped to be angry.

Flash We took out the guards first. The sound of their bodies hitting the ground was loud in my head. Manuel’s orders didn’t say we had to eliminate every person here, but men with guns

could kill my brothers. That meant they were out, even if they didn’t pose a real threat. Then we were in. The gate slid open, silent. No sounds of protest came from the wooden house down the driveway, which was glowing with lights from the inside. Leaving our bikes outside the gates, we stayed in the shadows as we moved quietly through the grass. Rebel snuck ahead and peered through the downstairs window, motioning to the rest of us that the coast was clear. Circling the house, we came to the back. Fuck, I didn’t want to be here. Killing was one thing, but killing on the orders of a psychopath

was another. Only this once. “Rebel, take Stitch and head upstairs. Clear it. Don’t kill unarmed people unless you have to.” Rebel nodded, looking up from where he knelt by the door, picking the lock. “Jackson, sweep the perimeter with everyone else except John. Check the outbuilding. I don’t know if we got all the guards, so watch your back.” As the words left my mouth, the men scattered like shadows. Once the door was open, Rebel, Stitch, John and I went through into the well-lit kitchen. The sounds of a television

playing in the distance was the only thing I heard. Clearing each room, we exchanged looks of surprise when there was no one to be found. Intelligence said the house would be teeming with people. Part of coming at night was the hope that most of the day workers would be gone. It looked like we’d lucked out and most of the guards were on the outside. When we hit the stairwell, Rebel and Stitch peeled away, moving up the wide steps and disappearing into the hall. Separating from my brothers always put a knot in my throat. Nothing worse than losing a Fallen member doing something like this. It happened, but rarely.

At the end of the hall, the house split two ways. “Which way first?” John asked. He was the most recent patched member, and I wanted to keep him close and watch out for him—but we needed to get this shit done. “Head down to the left. If you see anyone, track back and get me. Don’t engage on your own.” John nodded, his eyes wide with excitement. I remembered that feeling, when adrenaline was more than just a way to push through exhaustion. Soon I’d hit my 10 year mark as a fully patched member of the club, and shit like this just

made me tired. When John turned a corner, I scanned my own section of the house. The sound of the television was coming from the end of the hall and I could see faint lights flickering under the door. Someone was in there. If Dale and his number two weren’t here, we’d have to come back and finish the job later. That possibility put a weight in my stomach as I moved toward the light. We’d already been delayed for months when Dale went missing and the house in Malibu had been abandoned. I’d wandered through it, digging through the shit left behind for clues. Fucking

nothing. Just frayed furniture and moldy food in the fridge. What a waste of a day. At the door, I stopped. Voices were lowered enough that I couldn’t hear them clearly, but two people were arguing about something. Crossing my fingers that they were the two I needed to find, I leaned closer, then jerked back when one of the voices broke into a yell. Did they know I was here? “Shut up, you useless bitch,” said a man’s voice through the door. The sound of skin striking skin followed, then a body hitting the floor. Assured that I still had the element of surprise, I turned the knob and moved into the room with my

gun drawn. The thin man turned and threw up his arms, covering his face. It wasn’t quick enough—I already knew it was the one I wanted to find. Dale. Expecting to be met with a gun to my face, I was shocked that he just cowered away, dropping back onto the white leather couch behind him. Scanning the room, I didn’t see the other speaker at first, then saw the lump in the corner. Dark, tangled hair covered the face of the second person, who’d curled up into themselves. “Dale, you should have quit selling meth.” “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” All the rage I’d been bottling up for months was churning to the surface. He was a piece of shit who sold to kids and speaking to him was beneath me. “Tell me how you knew we were coming to Malibu.” Piston had said there were no leaks, but a man doesn’t just up and leave his house for no reason. “I don’t know what you mean.” “Shut up,” I snapped, moving forward and pushing the barrel of the gun against his head. “You’re done.” “No, no,” the coward screamed. A stain spread across the front of his slacks. The disgusting bastard was pissing himself.

“You don’t want me. I’m not the dealer. Not me. Not me.” “Then who is?” “Her,” he screamed, pointing his arm out at the person who had moved to huddle in the corner, her hair still covering her face. I punched Dale in the face. He went down hard and didn’t move, but he was still breathing. Turning slow and cautious to face the brains of the operation—my real target—my fingers tensed on the trigger. With the dark and my attention focused on Dale, I hadn’t noticed at first how fucking young she was. Killing a woman isn’t something I’d done before, but her death was the price

I’d pay for Emily’s life. And the death of one drug pusher who sells to children and orders broken legs and slit throats like appetizers isn’t something I can mourn. Before I was going to finish her, though, I had to make sure she was really the one I was supposed to kill. Didn’t seem likely that it would be a woman, especially such a small one. “Get up,” I said. “Get the fuck up now.” Trembling, she rose. Her slender hands pushed back her hair. What the fuck? “Emily?”

Emily The conversation didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. Dale was high as fuck when I walked in, but I still didn’t see the danger until it was already hot in my face, burning

across my cheek where I knew a bruise would bloom before morning. I could already feel it swelling. “I told you to get the shit out today.” His jaw was clenched, his words coming out low and angry. Blood dripped from the corner of my mouth onto my dress, and I knew it wasn’t going to come out. Just another thing I liked that Dale ruined. “I told you that I’d need your help if you wanted it done.” He’d been paranoid about something the last few days and hadn’t let all our usual help come out to the house, so we’d been working overtime to get the crap done. “Don’t talk back to me.” “I was just telling the truth.”

“Shut your whore mouth,” he said. “You don’t know half the shit I do to keep you safe. Half the shit I’ve done. Taking you in ruined my life.” “Yeah, I’m sure it’s been hard going from being a two-bit corner dealer to actually having money and running your own operation.” “You had nothing to do with that.” I laughed then, looked him right in the eyes and let the giggles slip from my mouth. I wish I’d let him die. Red mottled his skin right before his fist flew out and hit me again. Black spots danced in front of my vision, and I thought I might pass out. Instead of rising, I huddled in the corner, scared that if I got

up, he’d keep going. Then the door opened. Looking up expecting to see Tommy, instead I saw Flash. We’re dead. Whether he would shoot me first and recognize me later, I didn’t know. It was doubtful Flash still gave a fuck about me after I’d absconded in the dead of night, but my heart still started beating faster when I saw his face again. All the feelings I’d pushed down ripped me open as hard as they had on the bus ride home that night. While Dale begged for his life, I lowered my head to my arm and tried to

control my breathing. Years of waiting for the wrong people to find Dale, to barge in and kill us both, had finally come to fruition—in the form of the man I loved no matter how hard I tried to stop. At least I got to see him again before the end. Through the waves of my hair, I could see the glint of his golden eyes. I hoped Tommy stayed away from the house. “Get up.” Flash’s voice cleared and was directed at me. It was so unlike any tone he’d ever used with me that I felt sick. I clenched my lips together to keep from vomiting. “Get the fuck up now.” When I tried to move, my arms and legs

were shaking too hard. Rolling into a crouch, I pushed myself up and rose slowly. With gentle hands, I pushed the hair out of my face and met his eyes for the first time in six months. “Emily?” “Hi,” I said, stupid with fear and desire. If it was possible, he looked even better than he had when I left him sleeping in the hotel room. His face was dark with a five o’clock shadow and his eyes were hot with rage and confusion. Despite the gun he still pointed at me, I wanted to slide up to him and wrap my arms around him like I had that night in Mexico. “Why are you…here?” He blinked hard.

Shook his head. “I live here,” I said, unwilling to lie. My hand fisted in my skirt as I tried to stop shaking, but this was Flash and I’d missed him so damn much and if his face was the last thing I saw, maybe I’d be okay with dying. “You left.” “I’m sorry,” I said, my lips trembling. His face hardened and his eyes dropped closed for just a minute. When they opened again, the confusion was gone and only rage was left. Before he could speak again, Dale dragged himself up. “You stupid bitch. You led them to us. I should have known you were working with them.” His face

was filled with vitriol and I realized that he’d always hated me. Everything I did to win his affection in the beginning had been nothing but wasted effort. Flash brought his arm down hard across Dale’s face, knocking him back again. I shouldn’t have taken satisfaction at the crack of the bones in his face, but I’d hit my limit with him. Years without love and too many bruises to count added up to no longer giving a fuck about Dale. “Why would you come to him?” Flash asked, confusion spreading across his face. “I offered you better and you still came back to him.” “I’m sorry,” I said again. “He’s my uncle. I had to come home.”

“You told me you went to Cal Tech.” “I couldn’t afford the semester.” “I would have—.” He cut himself off, really looking at my face for the first time. If I thought he’d been mad before, I had no idea. His expression darkened while he looked at the bruises, my bleeding mouth. “He hit you?” “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt.” Just speaking made my lip bleed faster. “Of course it hurts,” he said. With a motion so quick that I couldn’t have stopped it if I wanted to, he grabbed Dale by his collar, pulled him up and pressed the barrel to his head. “Apologize.”

“I’m not apologizing to that Mexican bitch.” “Fine,” said Flash. Then he pulled the trigger. Dale’s head exploded from the back and I gagged hard, then dropped to my knees and lost the food I’d eaten for lunch. “Where’s his number two?” “What?” “The guy who runs the operation. Where is he?” “Flash…” “We’ve got him!” An excited voice tore through the house. A guy younger than Flash walked in, pushing Tommy head of

him. Tommy and I exchanged a look, resignation in both our faces. “Did you get the other?” The guy who’d spoken took a look at Dale’s corpse and shook his head. “Good job, man.” Flash was more serious, eyeing Tommy like the boy was some kind of threat. “This is his number two? He seems young for that.” “No,” I said, reaching out to grab Flash’s jacket. “It’s not him. It’s…” “It’s me,” Tommy interjected. “I’ve been working for Dale since I was a kid. Kill me if you have to, but her go. She’s innocent.” “Tommy, stop.” I pulled on Flash’s jacket again. No way was I letting

Tommy take the blame and the bullet that I’d earned with my illicit activities. Maybe I didn’t deserve it either, but he sure as sugar didn’t. “I’ll tell you everything,” Tommy continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “But you have to either gag her or let her leave. I can’t stand to hear her fucking voice.” Flash nodded. Pulling a bandana from his pocket, he wrapped it around my face and knotted it behind my hair. When he was done, he locked an arm around me and turned back to Tommy, who was breathing so quickly I feared he’d hyperventilate. “Why does Manuel want you dead?” This was news to me, and it looked like

it was news to Tommy too. His eyebrows raised and he searched my face for answers I didn’t have. “I don’t know,” he said, pulling against the guy who held him. “But do what you have to do. Just let her go.” “Why do you care what happens to her?” Flash asked. “You didn’t stop her from getting a fist in the face tonight.” “I wasn’t here,” Tommy said, real agony in his voice. “Take him out back and waste him,” Flash said, shaking his head. I screamed behind my gag, but he ignored me. “What about her?” Tommy grabbed the door frame, resisting the guy who’d been

ordered to kill him. “I’m keeping her,” Flash said. I started chewing on the bandana, using my tongue to push the fabric out of my lips. I was so close. Right as Tommy was dragged around the corner, I spit out the cloth and swallowed hard, getting air. “He’s not the dealer,” I shouted, loud enough that Flash finally stopped and paid attention to me. “What the fuck are you talking about? John, get back in here.” John came back around the corner with Tommy, still alive, but paler than skim milk.

“Talk, Emily.” “Tommy isn’t the dealer you want. He just stuffs bags and ships things sometimes. He didn’t have anything to do with dealing in LA.” “Emily, shut up,” Tommy said, and Flash turned to glare at him. “Then who did? Find me the man and I’ll let the boy go.” “I can’t find you the man,” I said, suddenly defiant. It was like I’d gone numb to fear when Flash had snapped at me. I met his eyes, raising my chin. “There is no man.” “Two people here have to die. You can save him if you tell the truth.”

“Here’s your truth, Flash: I’m the dealer. You’re going to have to kill me.” Two more men came into the room as I spoke. Both wore jackets similar to Flash’s, but covered with some different patches. “You’re not him,” one of them laughed, scanning me from head to toe. Flash jerked me closer to his big body. “I am.” “You can’t be,” Flash said, looking down at me. “He’s been active for almost a decade.” “Still me.” “You’re, what, 20 now?”

“Yes.” “Shut up, Emily,” Tommy said in a low, angry voice. “Shut up now.” The man holding him cuffed him hard and he went quiet again, looking at his feet. “I can prove it,” I said. “Take me out to the garage and I’ll show you. But let Tommy and anyone else in the house go. None of them can take over the operation. They won’t say anything to anyone.” “Emily, I’m not going to let them kill you.” Tommy’s voice cracked at the end of the statement and for the first time in so long, I saw the boy I’d loved once. Remembered the gentle joy of him reaching for my hand the first time.

That’s when I realized that for all the shit, he still loved me the way I still loved him—as those two kids who hadn’t known anything good from life before they found each other. “I won’t let them kill you for something I did,” I said, hoping he could see the love glowing in my eyes. It wasn’t passion or want, but something quieter. Something I’d feel for a brother, maybe. Tommy had flaws, but they weren’t irredeemable. “Please,” he begged. “Tell them the truth. Tell them it was me.” “That’s not the truth.” It was like blinders were lifted and I didn’t just see a junkie. I saw someone as trapped in this life as I was, beaten down by his

father and my uncle until there was so little of the good man left. “I love you, Tommy.” “I love you, Emily.” I don’t know if I was imagining it, but Flash’s eyes darkened. “Don’t kill the boy,” he said. “Get him back to the clubhouse. I don’t want anyone else dead until we’re sure we’re doing the right shit for Manuel. The last thing we need is more trouble with the cartel.” The man holding Tommy nodded and marched my first love out of the room. “Rebel, take his hand,” Flash said, wrapping his fingers around my arm tight

enough to bruise and nodding to my uncle, dead on the couch. “I’m taking the girl with me to the garage.” “Got it, boss,” he said. “Let’s go, Emily.” I mourned the warmth with which he’d once said my name while he pulled me out toward the door. But there was nothing I could do to get it back. By the end of the night, he’d probably be dropping me in a shallow grave somewhere. Outside, I looked at the stars dotting the deep velvety blue sky while Flash dragged me to the main gates. Being hauled around like cattle wasn’t doing much for my mood, but for better or worse, I was finally free from Dale. I

could never go back to that life again. Flash breathed hard through his nose, shooting me a heated look when I tried to jerk away. He was beyond pissed. But I couldn’t deny that part of me was still lit up by seeing him again.

Flash In the garage, Emily showed me beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was the person I was dispatched to kill. Hiding my reaction while she chopped meth, demonstrated her shipping techniques

and broke down the entire operation was difficult. If it had been anyone else, I’d have killed them and been done with the whole thing. But I wasn’t about to do that to her. Tying her hands behind her back, I led her out to the motorcycles in front of the compound. Some of the guys stayed back to clean up the mess I’d left in the room where I’d found her and Dale. Shouldn’t have shot him in there, but seeing the blood on her face had been the end of him, even if he didn’t know it when he hit her. “Get on in front of me,” I said, settling on the seat and helping her on my lap.

Jesus, it felt good to have her tight little body against me again. “I’m not leaving your hands free to jerk me off the road and I’m not leaving you here, either.” “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said pertly. “Except dealing meth.” “I’m sorry. I forgot that selling cocaine was a noble endeavor.” She looked at me with disgust in her eyes and blood on her mouth. She was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. “Don’t be the pot that calls the kettle black, Flash.” “I don’t sell to children.” Her eyes narrowed. “Neither do I.”

Turning away from me, she clammed up and held herself stiffly away from my body. Perversely, I smiled when the momentum of my Harley moving forward pushed her back into my lap. Her soft ass ground against my legs and I used every ounce of restraint I had to not get an erection. The longer we drove, the more she relaxed against me. Her hair smelled like lemons when it brushed my face in the wind. God, I’d missed her so much —even if she wasn’t the person I thought she was. All those thoughts of her being the brave, innocent girl I rescued warred with the truth of who she was: the meth dealer Manuel wanted to take down.

If she was, though, why didn’t he tell me that night at the villa? Why let Santiago kill her instead of taking care of it himself? Why didn’t Emily tell me? Nothing was adding up, and all the questions burned a line through my chest. The club was going to have to convene and talk some shit over. If Manuel required that we kill the kind of maggots that dealt to children and killed harmless people, that was one thing. If he was setting us up to be his personal hit men, that was something different. We weren’t here to serve his vendettas. No one used The Fallen. Cutting a path over the dark highway, I

could almost pretend that things were different between us. All the desire for her that I thought I’d mastered had burst into me in a flood as soon as she’d looked up and I’d seen her face. Those green eyes were still my undoing, even when they were narrowed with hatred. Already I knew that if her death was the price of doing business with the cartel, I still wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. How was it possible that she’d been dealing meth since she was a child? Even though she’d walked me through everything they’d done—the coffee bags and candles were a touch of genius that I appreciated—it was hard to believe that she thought of it. But the boy who’d

claimed to be the dealer had lied for a reason. His untruth was plain on his face. Why would he lie, except to protect a woman he claimed to love? Emily said she loved him, too. Even two years ago, things for the club had been so clear. Sell coke. Make money. Drink good liquor. Fuck beautiful women. Now we were hunting down people who pissed off the Deleons. It made no sense. In the last six months, Manuel’s sanity had slipped even further. Two weeks before, there were rumors that he’d killed half the production line in Mexico

to lower the cost of producing at home and take more cocaine from the Columbians. It hadn’t been confirmed— Mudd had driven down to Mexico to get a firsthand look at everything—but the idea of it made me sick. Those men had been working for the cartel since I was a little boy. I’d played with some of them as children. The worst part was, the rumors were followed up by whispers that now he needed more help because so many other workers had defected. How long would those people live? Other insidious rumors were being traded behind closed doors too. Maybe

Santiago’s death had broken Manuel and that was why he was splintering, but human trafficking wasn’t something The Fallen would ever condone. If it was true, we wouldn’t just cut ties with the cartel. We’d kill the man running it. Mudd would be back soon with all the information. Then we’d convene church and take a vote on how to handle it. Cutting ties with the cartel would mean walking into the war we’d narrowly avoided after I returned from Mexico. Fallen would die. Not for the first time, I tried to figure out how Manuel was even aware of Dale and Emily’s business. Meth dealers

were a dime a dozen, even if Piston did manage to keep the worst of them out of LA. Manuel had been bogged down with bitch work for Rafael for years; he’d never even crossed the border into California, as far as I knew. Emily had turned a barely profitable business into a small empire, but it still didn’t touch the money the Deleon Cartel made. There was more to this, and I had an inkling that my Dad knew something. When we pulled into the club, Piston stormed through the door and met me on the pavement. “What the fuck is going on? I told you to bring back two hands and instead you

bring me a piece of shit pussy and this woman.” “Can you get someone to take her inside, and then we’ll talk?” I didn’t want Emily to hear everything I had to say to the president. His lips tensed, but he nodded and headed back through the wooden door. Moments later, he emerged with my mother. “Mom?” “I came by to get your father,” she said, furrowing her brow. “I needed help with the sink.” “Can you take this girl up to one of the guest rooms?” Mom looked at Piston,

who smiled at her thinly, then nodded. I yanked Emily forward, catching her when she stumbled. Damn it, I didn’t mean to pull her so hard. Mom narrowed her eyes at me and put an arm around Emily’s shoulders. “What’s your name?” she asked, keeping her voice soft. When she surveyed Emily and saw the bruises forming on her face, her eyes widened. “Flash, what happened?” “Her uncle hit her,” I said. Mom nodded and gently guided Emily forward. “I’m Emily,” I heard her say as she and my Mom walked into the clubhouse. Mom turned back to me, a question in

her eyes, and I nodded. Her face went softer and then they were gone. I was never going to hear the end of it now that my mother had a chance to meet the Emily. “Emily?” Piston said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not the Emily from Mexico?” “Yeah,” I said. “The very one.” “What the fuck is going on?” “So you don’t think it’s a coincidence either.” “No,” Piston said. He shook his head slowly. “Maybe that’s why Manuel asked me not to send you on the disposal.”

“He did?” “Yeah, but I figured he just didn’t have faith in you. If it was me, I’d have wanted to be the one to go.” “If I hadn’t gone, she might be dead.” I wasn’t sure that my brothers would have killed an unarmed woman, but there was a chance. A chance that Emily would be nothing more than sightless eyes and an empty shell. Thank god I’d agreed to go. “So why does he want her dead so bad?” Piston asked, giving voice to the very thing I couldn’t stop wondering about. “What’s so special about her?” “I don’t think it’s just the meth,” I said.

“Honestly, the lost revenue isn’t enough for him to kill them even, unless he has something against them personally.” “I just figured it was another way for us to prove that we’re still loyal.” “Same here. I mean, the money figured into it, but you were trying to get them out of LA years ago.” That must have been when Emily was a young teen, before they’d moved into the house in Malibu and disappeared off our radar. Picturing her as a young girl sitting at a table and bagging piles of meth was enough to send heat flaring through me again. I wished I could go back and kill Dale again.

“It didn’t matter that much to me that they were taking our business,” Piston said candidly. “Just didn’t like that they were selling to kids.” It was a hot button issue with him. Before my grandfather had died, the rule had been set, but rarely enforced. Once Piston took over, it became the kind of thing that could get a brother removed from the club— permanently. “Emily says she wasn’t.” “Maybe Dale lied to her. But their product was definitely going out to younger people, at least until this year.” “They really cleaned it up since I got back from Mexico.”

“Why did they move out of Malibu?” Piston’s rapid-fire changes of topic were something we’d all learned to cope with. “Still don’t know,” I admitted. “Best I can figure, she overheard us in Mexico.” “Probably.” “It explains why she shut down on me so hard.” “I assume we’re not sending her hand down to Manuel.” I flinched, then shook my head. “Not an option.” “Then we need to get the guys together and figure out what to do next. Meeting tomorrow at 7pm. Mandatory. Tell

Havoc to post a bulletin.” “Got it,” I said. “What should we do with the boy until then?” Part of me wanted to tell Piston to interrogate him, but the truth I’d seen in his face was that he was a junkie. A dumb ass junkie who was in love with the woman I’d claimed and then lost. “Leave him. Don’t do anything, but don’t let him go either,” I suggested. “Good call. And Emily?” “I’ll deal with her.” Piston nodded and headed into the club. Instead of following, I went back to my bike, started the engine and flew out onto

the empty road. A ride would tamp down some of the rage so that I could deal with Emily again without scaring her. Then I remembered who she really was, and realized that I was probably the least terrifying threat to face her. Leaning forward, I sped up and let the wind pull away all the churning doubts in my gut. Emily was a mystery and I needed to dig deep and figure her out. I’d been gentle with the girl I thought would leap from her own shadow, but this woman was someone different. Someone I knew wouldn’t break at a hard touch. This time, she wasn’t getting away.

Emily “Do you want me to cuff you to the bed?” Flash’s mom asked, smiling at me as if the question wasn’t ridiculous. Her short, straight hair moved as her head canted to the side.

“Not particularly,” I said, “but my guess is that I don’t have many choices, do I?” The binds around my wrists were cutting into my skin, and I was losing feeling in my arms. All I wanted was to reach up and wipe away blood from my mouth, maybe gather my hair back. “You can stay with your arms behind your back if you like,” she said with a shrug. It was so strange to have a housewife in a leather jacket telling me that she’d handcuff me for her son that I actually felt dizzy. Anxiety sucks. “I thought you’d be more comfortable sitting.” I’d be more comfortable punching you in the face and high-tailing it out of

here. Shooting her a glare, I lowered myself on the bed and scooted closer to the post so she could clip one handcuff around my wrist and then attach the other side to the wooden bed. Once I was secure, she cut the binds Flash placed on me in Dana Point. I stretched out, letting my abused muscles flex and relax for the first time in hours. “Are you enjoying this?” I asked. Instead of making her angry, it made her smile. “Are you the Emily that made my son miserable for the last six months?” He’d been miserable because of me? “Probably,” I admitted.

“Then I don’t hate it,” she said. “Even better, it gives me a chance to get to know the girl he fell for.” “I don’t think he really fell for me. It was less than a week.” “That’s how my son is. He can go for years without finding something he wants, but when he does, he settles on it fast. What I don’t know is how you feel.” Unwilling to discuss my feelings with her, I shrugged. Conversation with an adult woman was a novel thing, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to participate. She looked nice enough, but good looks were easy, and often hid a monster.

Being fooled by her guileless eyes and soft hands would be my second mistake of the day. “I’ll be back,” she said, withdrawing into the hallway. I looked around the room while she was gone, studying the small space. It was mostly bare, but for the bed, a desk and a chair. There were a few framed photos of groups of men on the walls, but I couldn’t get close enough to see their faces. Idly, I tugged at my cuff, wondering if I could get out somehow. Even if I could, though, I wouldn’t leave. Tommy was still here somewhere. I could save him. We’d leave together.

Maybe now that I was in charge, I could take the money Dale had kept from us and put Tommy in rehab, then we could both go to college. Maybe I’d meet someone new. Maybe I’d start a real business. If I could just get out of this alive, I could have the life I always wanted. Even if it meant I couldn’t have Flash. Even if I would lose the rush of selling drugs. Tangling with meth had brought out a part of myself that I didn’t want to acknowledge, but had to. I liked doing something illicit, as much as I’d wanted to get out of Dale’s grasp. I’d never start

my own drug empire, because the cost was just too high. But I would miss it. Sighing, I sat back on the sheets and raised an eyebrow at Flash’s mom when she walked back in with a first aid kit in her hands. “Let’s get your face cleaned up,” she said. While she washed my face with gentle hands, she stared into my eyes, searching mine. “I remember you,” she said. “You’re Jeremy’s little girl.” “You knew my father?” I didn’t think anything else could shock me that night, but I was wrong. Finding out that my

father was affiliated with a motorcycle club was a real shock. “He and my husband used to be friends. They stopped speaking years ago, though.” “Why?” “It was prudent.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “How are your parents? I’ve missed seeing Jessica.” “They died years ago.” Saying it still hurt, even after all this time. “Oh.” Her face paled and her eyes dropped. “I’m sorry. What happened?” “Car accident. Drunk driver…”

“God, Emily, I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I wish we’d known.” “It’s okay,” I said, though remembering the accident shot a bolt of pain right into my heart. “You met me before they died?” “You and Flash played together once,” she said. “Just once. It was when you were three and you’d just come to live with them.” “Excuse me?” My skin chilled and I pulled away from her. “What do you mean came to live with them?” “Nothing,” she said, trying to cover her mistake. “I didn’t mean anything.” “I lived with them from birth,” I said. I

shook my head and said it again, but all I saw in her eyes was pity. “Emily, I’m sorry.” “Was I adopted?” Her mouth opened and closed. Her hand twisted her necklace, always moving, while she refused to meet my eyes. I felt sick. “Was I adopted?” I asked again. “Yes, but Emily, they wanted you so much. They were so happy to have you. Your mother lit up when you were placed in her arms the first time.” “Why? Why didn’t they tell me?” “You were so young when they died…” “Dale wasn’t my real uncle?”

“No.” “Did he know?” “I think he would have had to,” she said. “Emily, I can’t talk about this. I’m sorry.” “Can you leave me alone?” I wanted quiet time by myself to think, but her face made it clear that it wasn’t something I could get. “No,” she said, gentle but firm. “I’m going to make sure your face is okay and then sit with you until my son gets here. Tell me about what you want to do with your life.” I wanted to ask more questions, but she wasn’t going to answer them and I was

already frustrated and scared, so I let her minister to me. As much as I wanted to hate the woman, I couldn’t do it. She smelled like roses and her hands were gentle on my skin. They reminded me of Rosaline, comforting me in Mexico, so I didn’t bade her go again. Instead, I let her gently touch my face. Her hands were soothing and her soft voice asked me questions that lulled me into complacency. I almost forgot Flash was returning. Then I heard the door open. “How are you two doing?” He walked into the room and put a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Sorry I made you

stay here for so long.” “It’s fine, honey.” She rose and kissed his forehead. “Dad should be back soon. Piston sent him on a supply run.” “Oh, god,” she moaned. “I hope he gets the good maple syrup and not the fake sugar crap.” “I’m sure he’ll get everything, Mom. Emily and I need to talk.” He shot me a poisonous look over her shoulder and I cringed. Flash wasn’t offering me any of the kindness he gave to her. “I’ll go. I’m sorry about your uncle,” Flash’s mom said, looking at me before shooting a quelling look at her son.

“It’s okay,” I said. “He wasn’t a good man.” She left. We were alone. “Why did you leave me at the hotel?” I tried to bury the happiness I felt at seeing him up close without an immediate threat to my life. He slid into the chair his mom vacated, crossed his arms and stared at me, waiting for an answer I wasn’t ready to give. “Where’s Tommy?” “He’s fine. He’s currently puking up his guts.” “Why? What did you do to him?” “You and your uncle fed him meth until

he was an addict, then got him to mule for you.” “It wasn’t like that,” I insisted. “His father was an addict.” “You love him?” “Does that make you angry?” “Fuck, yes, it makes me angry, Emily. You fucked me in Mexico and held me like you’d never let go and then you ran home to him.” “I didn’t go home to him. He just happened to be there.” “Have you two fucked?” “Would it matter?”

“No,” he said, but his eyes told a different story. “It doesn’t matter.” “Why?” Why do I want it to matter? “Because no matter what you say, Emily, no matter what shit you pull or who you’re with, you’re mine. I tried being gentle with you and you ran away in the dead of the night to push more drugs with a man who beat you.” “You were going to kill him.” “I did kill him,” Flash said, satisfaction spilling over his face. “I’ll kill every man who leaves a mark on you.” “That’s not why you were going to kill him in Mexico. You didn’t like that we sold meth in your city.”

“I don’t give a fuck about where you sold meth. Piston was after him for selling that shit to kids, but he wasn’t going to kill him until Dale kept it going after warnings, then fucking disappeared.” “We didn’t sell to kids.” “What makes you think that?” “I told him—.” “What makes you think he gave a single fuck about what you said, Emily?” Flash was pure violence now, like I’d never seen before. He wasn’t my uncle with his weak hands and mealy mouth. No, Flash was black rage funneled into the shape of man.

“Because I was the one who kept us going,” I snapped. “Good job running a fucking meth line.” “Good job running coke for a psychopath,” I quipped, flipping him off. His eyes widened and he reached out and wrapped a hand around my finger. His big palm slid down my skin to my wrist, grasping it firmly. Reaching into the nightstand, he pulled out another set of cuffs. They made an audible click when he hooked one around my free wrist and then put the other one around the bedpost. “You’re not going to flip me off again, Emily,” he said, his eyes like a pure gold

storm. His hand lingered on mine. “What are you going to do, Flash?” His hand slid down my finger until it was draped loose over my fist. “Hit me? You won’t be the first man to hit me today.” I stuck out my chin, willing him to punch me once so that I could walk out and never think of him again. “I’m not going to hit you,” he said, disgust in his eyes. “I won’t ever hit you.” He moved closer until I had to crane my neck to look at him. “What do you want from me?” “Why did you help Dale?” “It was better than being a punching bag for all the junkies who showed up at the

house.” “How old were you when you started?” “Twelve, but I had no control until I was 13.” “Why didn’t you leave?” “No money. No family. No paperwork. What was I going to do?” “You could have stayed with me.” “And everyone in Malibu would have died. The people who worked for Dale weren’t evil, Flash. They were just like the people here—they did some illegal shit and they didn’t deserve the death sentence for it.” “We wouldn’t have killed everyone.”

“That’s not how it sounded to me.” His hand was stroking my skin, lighting fires that hadn’t burned since I’d left him behind. The more he touched me, the more fury fell away from his face, replaced with purpose. “I would have protected you and anyone you wanted.” The truth in his words made me regret leaving him, even if just for a moment. “I didn’t know that. I couldn’t risk my life on the chance that a man who’d known me for a week would betray the club he claimed to love so much for me.” More of the anger dropped away and his

taut body relaxed imperceptibly. Flash sat down next to me on the bed, letting go of my hand. I must be two times the idiot I thought I was, because all I want is for him to touch my hand again. “You didn’t leave because of me?” “God, no,” I said, forgetting how angry I was at him for—what exactly? He’d done the job given to him by the club, the same way I did for my uncle. He hadn’t mistreated me, other than leaving me chained to the bed, yet rage still bubbled inside me, hot and acrid. I didn’t know why. But I owed him the truth. “That better future you talked about? I wanted that—with you. But I wouldn’t let the price of my happiness be someone else’s

death.” His face softened more and he leaned into me. “I missed you,” he said, so quiet it was almost beyond hearing. “I missed you, too,” I told him. “Every single day. And I wanted you. Every single day.” His body was so close and the hunger was overwhelming. “I want you now.” “You’re going to take what I give you,” he growled, his big body rising over mine, so freaking beautiful that I lost my breath. The cool metal of the cuffs against my wrists was a light pressure that kept them above my head and left my body splayed out under his. He ran his

rough hands up my arms to my wrists, then smiled at me, predatory. Oh fuck. His fingers went to the ties at the shoulders of my sundress and pulled, untying them so that the thin material went loose over my breasts. Flash raked his heated gaze over my body, then yanked on the dress hard so that my swollen mounds were revealed. With a dark look, he lowered his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth, then pulled off and blew on the heated tip. “You still taste fucking amazing,” he said. All I could do was shiver when his head

returned to my breasts. I’d wanted him for the past year, dreamed about him at night. When I’d slide my hand down my torso in the darkest hours, it was his face I’d remember, tensed with pleasure as I took him into my mouth or bold and possessive when he slipped inside me. I’d wrangle each drop of pleasure from my body and bite my lip to keep from moaning his name, scared of how the sound might carry in the shadows. I’d wished for him. For this. But his harsh face was stark above me and a tingle of fear broke through the arousal when he took hold of my dress and yanked it down farther. His seeking

fingers pushed under the fabric, sliding down my stomach and running along the edge of my panties. I was so soaked, but not ashamed that he’d find me wet with wanting him. When they slipped down and stroked my swollen folds, I moaned and he lowered his head to take my mouth, his fingers still moving relentlessly against my clit. Wanting to touch him, unable to touch him, I rocked my hips against his fingers, desperate for what only he could give me. But as soon as I moved, he lightened the pressure and his white teeth flashed. “You don’t get to come yet.” “What?” I said, outraged. I felt my skin

flush with fury and desire, all rolling into one hot tidal wave of emotion. Flash just smiled and looked me in the eye while his hand skated too lightly over my skin and then pulled away when I jerked up. He moved off the bed and bent over me, removing my dress and my soaked panties before bending to lick the flat of his tongue up my slit. “Oh god,” I shouted, shaking against the binds. “Again. Please.” “You left me for a year,” he said, pinching my nipple lightly with his wet fingers. “I’m not in a hurry to make you come.” “Flash…”

“Quiet,” he said and I closed my mouth. If I insisted that he let me up and out of the room, I knew he’d let me go—and I’d never have the climax I needed. The climax I’d been waiting for during the six months we were apart. He waited until he was sure that I’d acquiesced and then the grin returned to his face. “Good girl.” Pushing my legs apart, he knelt between them and then his velvet tongue was there again, moving against my skin while I cried out and rattled the handcuffs in a fruitless attempt to reach for his head. Wanted to press him down against my skin so hard. But he was having none of it. If I tried to

move against him, he’d pull back and wait until I gained control of my melting body. His mouth on my skin was the best thing I’d ever felt, but he wouldn’t leave it, wouldn’t let me come. Every time my I got close, he’d pull back and I’d scream with frustration, uncaring that others might be able to hear me. Shame was gone and I was only nerves, skin and need. I felt my body tense and my breathing ramped up, my chest straining. His teasing continued and I thought I might die. Every time I approached the peak, he’d pull back and leave me soaked and bucking against him. Flash would press his warm hand against my

belly and stroke the skin there, waiting as my blood slowed and the heat died down. Then he’d take my ass in his hands and move my body so that my pussy was bared to him, spread out and open to his seeking tongue. I couldn’t even close my eyes, scared I’d miss a moment of his perfect muscled body against mine. When he darted a tongue inside me and groaned, I came so close that I screamed when he moved away. “Not yet,” he insisted, but his voice was tighter now. I could see the thick bulge of his cock behind his pants and I wanted it so much. So much.

His fingers slid down my cleft. “I could keep you like this for hours,” he said, flicking his tongue against my swollen clit. “You wouldn’t make me stop.” “No,” I said. “Please don’t stop.” A finger teased my entrance, probing and withdrawing. “Do you want me to put it in?” “Y-yes,” I gasped. “Please.” I wanted something else inside me more, but his finger would do for starters. When he pushed it in me, I felt my walls grasp it, squeezing it and I sucked air in through my teeth, each exhalation a moan. “God, you’re so wet,” he said. “You’re so fucking perfect.” His mouth returned

to my center and I was so close. So close. Almost—but he pulled back again and looked at me, still stroking that swollen place inside. “F-Flash?” “You’re mine now,” he said. “Say it.” My eyebrows raised. He still wants me like that? Another flick of his tongue. A thrust of his finger. “Say it.” “I’m yours,” I bit out, ending on a scream when he sucked my clit into his mouth while stroking harder, pushing against me and he didn’t stop and my hips wouldn’t stay still, and then I convulsed around his finger, my body

bowing with release. “I need you now,” he said, stripping off his pants and throwing his shirt aside. I followed his movements with hungry eyes, admiring the taut muscles and his narrow waist. The man was pure perfection and I wanted to take all of it into myself. His mouth pressed against mine, hard, and I opened my lips to him so that his tongue could gain entrance. Flash sucked on my tongue while his probing erection circled my opening and then, in a single thrust, he sheathed himself deep inside my body. I gasped, rocked my hips up to him. It

was like coming home.

Flash Emily was so fucking tight that I thought I might lose my mind the second my swollen cock pressed into her pussy. Gritting my teeth to keep from blowing then and there, I dug my hands into the

fabric as I slid deeper and she threw back her head and moaned. Every sound from her sexy pink mouth made me harder, more desperate to give her a climax she wouldn’t forget, to bind her to me with the kind of pleasure that no other man could give her. “I-I wanted this for so long,” she said, opening her eyes when I was fully seated within her. “Not enough,” I said, pulling back and then sliding in again, watching her pupils dilate as I fucked her. “Not enough to stay.” “I couldn’t,” she said, her mouth trembling. Fuck. I didn’t want that.

Never make her unhappy. But she’d left me. “You’re not going again,” I said, and she shook her head, the dark hair like rumpled silk behind her head. Her vibrant green eyes lock on mine. “Say it.” She shook her head again, and I increased the speed of my strokes, driving into her harder while my thumb slipped between us to stroke her clit. When her breathing quickened, I Never. I’d never let her leave again. The long months without her had dulled the memory of her flesh surrounding me, the way her walls stroked me as I drove into

her. Her scent, her little gasps of pleasure—the enormity of them had evaporated, even while I’d been desperate to find her. Now that she was under me—surrounding me—I’d never let her go again. I love her. The thought was such a blow that I stopped midstroke, staring down at her while she writhed and begged me to keep going. No matter who she was or what she’d done—even though she’d betrayed me and warned an enemy of the club that we were on his trail, hell, even if she was the very enemy I was supposed to destroy—I loved her.

Capturing her pink nipples between my fingers, I pinched them lightly and rocked my body back and forth, levering in and out of her tightness again. Her arms strained above her, her hands twitching as she tried to reach for me, and I couldn’t take it anymore. Pressure built in my shaft while I fucked her, so close to the edge, but I wanted her to fall with me. “I’m so close,” she said, her lashes dark fans against her cheeks. “Please. Right there. Right there.” I wasn’t going to stop. Not until she was falling apart around me again. Her breathing changed and I felt her

pussy squeeze my cock. “Flash,” she said, throwing threw back her head on a scream. Her convulsions drove me over the edge and I pushed in and poured myself into her, gathering her body close to mine while the white-hot eruption ebbed. Reaching up, I gently removed her wrists from the cuffs and chaffed them with my hands. When my fingers touched fabric, I looked—really looked—at her arms for the first time. Frayed and faded, the bracelet I’d given her in Mexico was still around her wrists. “Why?” I asked, tugging it gently with a

single finger. “Because leaving you was the worst, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” she admitted. Her eyes met mine. “Because it was like having a little piece of you with me every single day.” Pulling her close, I rubbed her back until Emily’s breathing was deep and even. Then I fell asleep, at peace for the first time in six months.

The next morning, Emily turned into me, her face against my shoulder. “Flash, did your mom tell you that I was adopted? Did you already know?” Her vulnerable

face was easy to read and I could see the hurt behind the words, but I couldn’t push through my shock to care for her the way she deserved. Her words triggered a memory from when I was just a kid. Something that hadn’t mattered or even seemed remarkable at the time that was suddenly so much more. I stared at her, the mystery finally unraveling. “No,” I told her. Then I kissed her forehead, covered her with a blanket and went to find my parents in their room. Mom excused herself to cook breakfast for the club, leaving me and Dad alone and staring at each other over the wooden floor. “Was Emily the girl we took out of

Mexico when I was a kid?” Dad put a hand to his head and refused to meet my eyes, sighing. That was enough answer for me. My blood ran cold. “Are you fucking kidding me, Dad? Because I’m starting to feel like this is adding up, and I don’t like the total.” “I didn’t know her adopted parents were dead until your mother told me tonight.” “I don’t understand,” I said, lost. I still remembered going to Mexico with him when I was eleven and picking up the little girl with dark ringlets in a white pinafore. We’d taken her from her Rosaline at a marketplace and driven

through the dead of night back to California. I’d played games with her in the back of the van. At home, Mom and Dad took her away while I stayed with some of Dad’s friends from The Fallen. I never saw her or thought about her again. “Why does Manuel want her dead?” “Rosaline and Rafael were lovers,” Dad said, and my entire body went hot and prickly. “Emily is Manuel’s niece. She’s Emily Deleon.” “But as Rafael’s daughter…” “She’s the true heir to the Deleon Cartel. Not Manuel.”

It was like a sucker punch to the gut. No. “He’s not going to stop until she’s dead,” I said. “No,” Dad agreed, shaking his head. “God, when I think of everything that little girl must have gone through…” His words made me imagine Emily as a child, forced to live with the drug addict that her uncle must have been. Back then, money would have been tight because she hadn’t yet learned to help him expand, which meant that she hadn’t had enough to eat. Clean clothes to wear. Anything a child deserves. No wonder she was always hungry. “Why didn’t you take her out of Dale’s

when she was a kid?” “I told you, we didn’t know her parents were dead until your mother spoke to her last night. We agreed the best way to get her away from Manuel was to go no contact. We never spoke a word to them again after the adoption was in order. If I’d known, I’d have gone back for her.” “Did he know about the Deleons?” If Dale had known about them, I was surprised he hadn’t sold her out years ago. “He must have found out,” Dad said, aging before my eyes. “It’s the only way to explain why he sent her to meet a contact so close to them, and then she

happened to get kidnapped. I wonder what Manuel promised him for her life. Money? Territory?” “I won’t let him have her.” Losing Emily again would break me, especially now that I knew she’d wanted me every bit as much as I’d wanted her in Mexico. Her hungry mouth under mine, the lean line of her body—I craved her. I love her. “No, son. I know that.” “What do we do now?” “You need to talk to Piston. If we’re going up against Manuel, we need strategy, otherwise we’re just walking corpses. He’s been running through his

own supply and the rumors floating up from the border keep getting worse.” I shuddered to think what worse could be. “What are you going to do?” “I’m going to talk to Emily.”

Emily I’d just put my bloody sundress back on when a knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” I said, grabbing my sweater and pulling it over my chilled arms. The door opened to reveal a man with thick

dark hair liberally peppered with gray. His arms were still strong and ropey and his face was enough like Flash’s that I knew immediately who he was. “I’m Bill,” he said, extending a hand to shake mine, which he did with a very soft grip, in deference to the bruises he saw on my face, I’m sure. “Emily.” I took his measure, studying his kind, worn face. He had smile lines and full cheeks. “I haven’t seen you in years,” he said, gesturing for me to take a seat. “You’ve grown into a very lovely young woman.” “Thank you,” I said. The urge to slam him with questions about my past was

ever-present, but I had a feeling this was a man who got to things in his own time. Hurrying him wouldn’t get me anywhere. The only thing I could do was wait for him to tell me the truth of my own life. “Do you want me to tell you what I know?” “Yes, please,” I said, and then he started the story that broke up my life and put it together in a new pattern. “Rafael Deleon was Manuel’s brother, and he was the leader of the cartel after their father died. Manuel was always jealous, because he felt he was the better leader. He was reckless where Rafael was cautious, full of ideas that fizzled

out, and always just a little off. My father worked with Rafael’s father, and it was only natural that his older son and I trusted each other as we got older. Rafael and I were business associates… and friends. Two decades ago, Rafael began to grow paranoid. He hired people to protect him, even at home. People tasted his food for him—and at the time, I thought he was going mad. Later I found out that he’d almost died from drinking drugged wine. The biggest surprise, though, was something he told me when he called me down to inspect new processing facilities with him. Rafael wasn’t the kind of drug lord you

see in movies at all. His employees were well cared-for and he abhorred violence. He only sold to trusted sources who weren’t junkies themselves. While he didn’t make as much as some of the other cartels, his business slowly ramped up until he was generating an enormous amount of profit—without the relentless danger that plagued others. So I expected a tour of a new, clean place for his workers to do their jobs. Instead I was at a secret wedding. Rafael had fallen in love with one of his housekeepers and decided to marry her. Not willing to put her life on the line, he kept it secret. Rosaline—your mother— looked at him like he’d put the stars in

the sky. It was the same for him. Then a year later, you were born. Rosaline put it about that you were the son of a laborer who’d gone to the United States, because Rafael knew that you would be his greatest weakness. But he loved you too much, and Manuel began to suspect. One night, someone broke into the nursery and tried to take you. Rafael killed the man, who he didn’t recognize, but he believed that it was Manuel that sent him. He couldn’t be sure—but if Manuel suspected that you were his child, it would be a death sentence. Rosaline couldn’t bear the idea of losing

you, but Rafael wouldn’t walk away from the cartel. He knew that to remove a stable leader—the last in the bloodline, except Manuel or Santiago, who was already wrong in the head— would send the organization into chaos and warfare. Dismantling it was discussed, but ultimately rejected. It would take too long and by then you’d be old enough that you wouldn’t remember them if they sent you away. Rosaline would say that you died of a fever. He confided this to me so that I would help find you adoptive parents. Though he’d hoped to leave his child the cartel and his business, both your parents felt it

was more important for you to have a life where you were safe and protected. So my wife, Flash and I drove to Mexico City on a fake vacation, took a detour, picked you up and brought you to your new parents.” “Rosaline is my mother.” Reeling from his story, I sat back. My stomach flipped as I remembered the sad-eyed women who’d tended me the night Santiago almost killed me. Santiago. My own cousin. I’d murdered my only cousin. “Flash told me you met her at Manuel’s villa.” “I didn’t know…” “She must have,” he said. “My wife says

that she’d recognize Flash, even if she hadn’t seen him in seventeen years.” Remembering how I dismissed her from the room, I paled. I could feel the blood drain from my face. “I barely spoke to her.” “Seeing you probably was enough. Knowing you made it out alive with Flash was all she could want.” “Oh, god.” It was too much, too quickly. Bending forward, I started to cry in great, heaving gasps. Flash’s father moved to sit next to me. “I had a mother,” I said. “One who was still alive. And all these years with Dale, I thought no one wanted me. Loved me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t save you,” Bill said, wrapping an arm around me. “We’d have come for you if we’d known. We thought disconnecting from you was an extra layer of protection between who you were and who you are now.” “It’s not your fault,” I said, trying to stifle my tears. “It’s just…I wish I knew them.” “You might still get a chance to know her,” he said. “How did Manuel know I was with Dale?” “The best we’ve been able to deduce is that Dale found out when he adopted you. Your paperwork was fake, but there were pictures of your parents and a

letter from them that I gave your adoptive parents. He must have seen them, understood what it meant and contacted Manuel. Delivering the one person who could displace him would certainly make Manuel more inclined to give Dale whatever it was he wanted.” I remembered moving out to Malibu and how Dale started to ask me questions I didn’t have the answers to. It seemed like he was finally taking an interest in me, asking for my earliest memories. The only one I had that seemed out of place was of a strong man lifting me up so I could pick an apple. Was that my father? “But why sell me out to him?”

“Maybe he wanted something only Manuel could give him. Wider distribution. Protection from Piston.” “He could have given me up years ago,” I pointed out. “You started turning a profit.” “Until I told him I was leaving for college.” Everything became startlingly, painfully clear. “Then my life wasn’t worth anything to him anymore, so he sold me out.” “I’m sorry, Emily.” “It’s not your fault. Will you tell me about my biological parents?” “Yes,” he said. Sitting back, he started to tell me about the man and woman who’d

given me life and then given me up.

Flash I didn’t like leaving Emily, even with my Dad. Not knowing what I knew now. But he could tell her what she needed to know, and my woman needed space to hear it. Restraining myself with

promises that I’d hold her as soon as she walked out of the room, I sat back on the couch and drummed my fingers on my jeans. Waiting was fucking intolerable. “Things went well between you and Emily, I take it?” Jackson said, plopping down next to me. I glared at his cheerful tone. “Good enough.” The full color details weren’t something I was going to share with my brothers. “I’m keeping her.” “What about her friend? He’s still fucking up one of the guest rooms.” “Once it’s out of his system, throw him in rehab. Emily told me more about him last night and he might be a half-decent guy if we can get him clean.” Plus, she’d

be happier to know he was on the right path. “What do you care about getting him clean?” “I don’t,” I admitted. “I care about her.” Jackson nodded. “I’m going to get a drink. You want?” “Whiskey.” He crossed the room and picked up a bottle from the bar, splashing a little in a tumbler for me. Carrying it back, he handed it to me and I drained it. The burn helped focus my mind. I had to wait until the girl upstairs was ready for me. Charging up there like a raging bull wasn’t going to make this any easier on

her. A few minutes later, I heard a door open and close, then she walked down the steps. She was more beautiful than the first time I’d seen her, all golden skin and long, wavy hair. Knowing her now —the sly, clever parts of her—made me want her even more. Like a lion stalking his mate, I followed her with my eyes as she descended. When she spotted me on the couch, her eyes welled with tears. Just like that, I was up and moving to her. I picked her up before she could step off the last stair. “It’s going to be okay, Emmy.” “Rosaline is my biological mother,” she said, sobbing into my shoulder. The hot

wetness of her tears on my shirt shredded me. “I didn’t know. I was right there with her and I didn’t know.” “She’ll understand,” I promised, rubbing her back. “There’s no way you could have known. I’ll bring her here for you. You can spend as much time as you want getting to know her.” “But what about my mom? My mom who died? I loved her.” “I know, baby. You can love both of them.” “I feel so torn,” she said, her shudders slowing. She burrowed deeper into my arms without restraint and I carried her to the couch, sinking down with her in my lap. She nuzzled against me and I

shot a glare at some prospects who’d wandered in. Wide-eyed, they headed for the game room, leaving us alone in the lounge. “Why?” “I’ve always been alone, Flash. No one ever really loved me for me, except my parents who died before I really knew what it meant to have a family. Now I might have another mother, who your father is telling me loved me just as much. I don’t know what do to with that.” “The only thing you can. Stay here and let us decide how to deal with Manuel.” I wasn’t letting her within one hundred miles of the man.

“What if they decide to give me to him?” “They won’t. We’re talking about it tonight, but it’s a done deal.” “Why? They don’t owe me anything.” “Because I claimed you,” I told her, and her eyes went wide. “From the first day I spent with you, I knew you were it for me. You’re one of us now and every man here will die to protect you.” “I don’t want anyone else to die for me.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her that someone always dies in wars like this. The only question was whether the first volley would come from our side or theirs. A few hours later, I got my answer.

Emily was eating a waffle and talking to my mother when I heard the pounding on the door. Jackson went to answer it, his face twisted with confusion. Most people who have cause to visit during the day just walk in. Looking through the window, confusion turned to rage. He flung it open. “What the fuck?” he roared, grabbing the body that fell forward into his arms. It was a mess of entrails and blood that spilled over him, but he was blind to that. Grabbing the dead man and lowering him to the ground, he touched his face. “Mudd?”

“Fuck,” Piston erupted, pushing past the two men and racing after the guys who were running back to the truck parked at the end of the block. “Go upstairs,” I snapped to my mother, then headed after Piston. He was already ahead of me, running hard. Manuel chose the wrong men for the job, because they weren’t fast enough to get to the van before he grabbed the greasy ponytail of the first man and slammed him into the sidewalk before continuing after the other. By the time I reached the first man, Piston was already on top of the second, punching him in the face. I grabbed ponytail and marched him back into the

club. Mom had done as I’d said and taken Emily upstairs. Pulling open the basement door, we went down the stairs and I had him tied up before he’d fully regained his senses. I’d never wanted to kill someone more. “Please,” he said, then coughed and spit blood. “We’re just the messengers.” “Shut up,” I snapped, driving my fist into his face. Leaving him alone in the dark, I walked up the stairs to help Jackson take our fallen brother’s body inside the clubhouse.

It was two hours before Mudd was taken

care of and Piston was calm enough to start the interrogation. The men he’d pummeled were still alive and both were bound at the same table in the basement. After seeing the mashed face of the man Piston caught second, I was surprised he was able to speak. “What happened?” Piston said. The two men exchanged a look, and I grabbed Ponytail’s chair and turned it so they couldn’t see each other. “I’ll ask again,” Piston said. “What happened?” Neither spoke. This was going to get worse before it got better. “You’re both going to die,” he said, looking down at his hands. “There’s no

doubt about that. You killed a member of The Fallen.” “Then why would we bother to talk?” the other man said. “Because one of you is going to die slowly,” I chimed in. “The other one will be dead before he realizes what’s happening.” Ponytail started shaking, his skin pale and clammy, while the other fucker just looked confused. “Let us go and I’ll tell you anything,” he said. “No.” Piston’s voice rang out like a gunshot. “Not happening. Die fast or die slow. That’s the only choice you have. What happened?”

Silence reigned for another moment, then Ponytail started babbling. “Manuel found out that the man was checking our operations. He saw the arena. He saw the women.” “What arena?” I asked at the same time Piston said, “What women?” “A lot of the workers left,” he said, spitting out another mouthful of blood. I rose to stand behind him, leaning against the wall. “Rafael’s enforcers have been defecting. We needed new people.” “And?” “He went into one of those bullshit middle of nowhere villages up in the mountains. Herded the people onto a bus. They fought in the arena. The

winners stayed to work for us.” Manuel’s insane. “What about the women?” “You can make almost as much money from women as you can from white horse,” he said, “and Manuel didn’t see any reason to split the profits.” “Anything else?” Piston nodded at me and I stood up, moved to stand behind the man. He didn’t notice, because his lips were still spilling useless words. “No, no,” he said. “The man, he was creeping around and they killed him.” “Why bring his body back over the border?”

“He was still alive coming up,” Ponytail said, hanging his head. “Got killed close, where the others are.” That meant Mudd had known what was going to happen for days before he met his end. Rage boiled through me and my fingers flexed, ready to kill. “What others? You failed to mention that.” “Figured you knew. Soliders. Word is, you’ve got the girl Manuel wants. They’re down at the flophouse in South Central.” Rage. “Near Normandie?” Piston asked. When Ponytail confirmed it, Piston nodded once. I reached out and snapped the

man’s neck before he knew what was happening. “Jackson?” Piston called out. He’d forbid the man from coming to the interrogation. He and Mudd patched in together and were like blood brothers. Losing him was going to be difficult. He shuffled down the stairs, then straightened when he saw the remaining man. “What do you want me to do?” “Whatever you want. Keep him alive until we get back from South Central.” “Why South Central?” Jackson asked, but he was already eyeing a hammer hanging on the wall.

“We’re going to put down a few cartel fuckers,” I said. Piston and I left him in the basement. The other man was already screaming before we closed the door.

By the time we made it back from South Central, we were dirty, bleeding and revved up. Matthew was going to need some stitches, but everyone else made it through unscathed. It was a miracle, and we owed it to the fact that they didn’t expect us to find them so quickly. Good thing Ponytail had a big mouth. Ten dead motherfuckers would be a strong message to send back to Manuel.

Piston cut off their hands. We didn’t just got revenge. Rebel beat valuable intel out of one of the fuckers, too. Rosaline was still alive and working at the villa. Manuel had been knocking her around a little, but she wasn’t wasted yet. Dad told me before we rode home that he figured Manuel was planning to use her as a bargaining chip with Emily, if he needed one. “That was a hell of a ride,” Dad said, slipping into his seat at the round table. Mom and Emily had gone out together to buy clothes or some such shit. It was the perfect time for church. “I’m just glad we didn’t lose anyone else.” Piston handed out drinks to the

members, pouring one last shotglass for Jackson when he walked into the room. Mudd’s favorite had been vodka, so we each took a shot and toasted him. “To Mudd,” I echoed along with the rest of the club. He was a good man. I knew that later I’d grieve for him, but so much had happened so fast that I felt numb. “We’re going to party and honor our fallen brother once we make sure everyone else is safe,” Piston said, turning to my dad. “Ideas?” “The most important question before us is what do we do with the power vacuum?” “Can you dumb that down for me?” asked John, drumming his fingers on the

wooden table. “Manuel dying is going to open the cartel up to infighting. It’s why Rafael didn’t leave years ago.” Dad quickly filled in the details for the club members who hadn’t been around. Wide-eyed shock greeted him, but not a single man disagreed with my choice to claim and protect Emily. Pride swelled, making my chest tight. “So just have one of us take it over,” Rebel said with a shrug. “Done deal.” “No,” Piston said. “It comes down to this: the Deleons honor blood before everything else. If we want to take out Manuel, we have to put blood on the throne.” The words made my gut churn.

“There’s no one left except Emily,” chimed in Jackson. He rose and poured another shot of vodka, swallowing it before continuing. “And Manuel, of course. But that fucker killed Mudd. And…even if he hadn’t, we can’t let him kidnap women or force people to fight to the death.” “When we voted on him last year, we didn’t know what kind of man he was,” Piston said. “In the past year, the rate of unexplained deaths surrounding the cartel has increased. Men hanging from roadside bridges in that area isn’t uncommon. Leaving aside that removing him is the right thing to do, we’re going to have cops up our collective asses if this keeps up.”

“Why? We’re not officially Deleon Cartel.” “We might as well be,” I said to my brother. “We run for them. We sell for them. We’ll be under investigation every bit as much as Manuel.” “There’s also Flash’s woman to think of,” said Piston. “We can’t force her to take over the cartel.” “Will they even accept her?” I asked. “I have proof of her paternity. Most of the men loyal to Rafael know me and respect me. If I say she’s a Deleon and show them proof, they’re not going to question it.” “What about the profit that Manuel is

bringing in?” “Most of it is for him and his own people. The men who worked with Rafael aren’t getting a good deal anymore. I think they’ll embrace change if it’s offered.” “Will Emily want this?” Piston asked, looking at me. The entire room fell silent. “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll talk to her tonight.” “If she agrees, then we go to Mexico. Bill will speak to his contacts and make sure everyone knows that Emily is the true heir to the cartel. We’ll put down any rebellion. To kick it off though, we storm the villa and Emily kills Manuel.”

“Why Emily?” I didn’t keep the anger from my tone. “She doesn’t need to kill anyone else.” Dad held up a hand, stopping Piston from replying. “Because she needs to earn their respect. Rumors of her business with Dale will help, but she needs to get revenge on the man who murdered her real father.” “There’s no proof that Manuel killed Rafael,” I insisted, willing to grab at any weak thread. Dad sighed. “Rafael didn’t die a natural death. You know it as well as I do, now that you know all I know. Emily needs to serve Manuel what he’s earned or there will almost certainly be challenges to

her.” He looked at me with pity. “I hope she can do it.” “Will she have to stay in Mexico forever?” “She can dismantle the cartel, but it will take years. We’ll all talk to her about it, son. Don’t want the girl going in blind.” Accepting the answer, I nodded and the meeting continued. Plans were firmed up to go into Mexico and get Emily to Manuel—if she agreed to the whole scheme.

Emily I sipped from the hot Styrofoam cup of tea Flash’s mom had purchased for us at a kiosk in the mall, watching the lights of the city through the window of the SUV. “We lived on the shore for so long that

it’s just strange to be further into LA,” I said, watching traffic rush by. “What made Dale choose Malibu?” “The house was secluded and cheap enough,” I told her, “and he wasn’t sure money would keep flowing like it was. The basement was large, so we could do our work there. It had good gates and natural security. I think it made him feel safe.” “It was safe for a long time,” she conceded, her eyes on the road. “Maybe for him,” I said, sinking lower in my seat. I couldn’t get the sight of that man’s body out of my mind, nor the way Flash’s face had shifted to something terrible. The rage was understandable,

but no less terrifying simply because I could comprehend it. “Emily, I wish—.” Before she could apologize for what happened in the clubhouse again, I held up a hand to silence her. “It’s okay,” I told her. I meant it, even though I still felt shaken up like a mixed drink. “I don’t blame any of you.” “Flash did kill your uncle.” Her voice was steeped with regret, though whether it was that her son had killed or that he’d killed someone I was related to, I wasn’t sure. Probably the latter. She struck me as pragmatic. “Dale probably had it coming one way or another. At least it was fast.” A sick

part of me thrilled at the way Flash had raised his gun to Dale not to remove competition, but to defend me. His eyes had been as stark at the sight of my blood as they were when he saw his dead friend fall through the door. Once I’d stopped screaming, Flash’s mom had taken me out of the clubhouse and we’d walked around the city for a few hours. Once I felt like I could, we ate soup and sandwiches at a café, watching people on their way to one place or another. Though I knew she was keeping me out of the clubhouse so the men could go about their dark purposes, I didn’t mind. It was reasonable after what had happened.

We’d gotten carried away after stopping by the Dana Point house so I could get a few of my things. Reasoning that Dale didn’t need it anymore, I’d grabbed some of the money he thought was hidden. Our shopping bags filled the back of the SUV. “Can you forgive him?” she’d asked, looking at the empty house where I’d lived with my uncle. “There’s nothing to forgive.” “We should be getting back just as church is ending,” she said, looking away to check the clock on the dash and pulling me back into the present. “That’s good timing.” “They go to church on Thursday?”

“Church is the club meeting,” she said. “No non-members allowed.” “But you’re married to a member.” “It’s not the same thing. Besides, would you really want to sit in on a meeting?” I thought maybe it would be fun, but I saw her point. “Why does your jacket say Property of Cotton?” “That’s Bill’s nickname,” she said. “Property?” Her grin grew. “It used to horrify me, too. But it’s a good thing. It just means that no one else fucks with you, or else they end up with The Fallen on them.”

“If Flash and I…I mean, do I have to wear one of those?” Her laugh was soft and kind. “You don’t have to, but I guarantee you it’ll make my son the happiest man in the world if you do.” I liked the sound of that.

Flash was pacing in the lounge when we walked through the doors. “Grab our bags from the car, please,” Flash’s mom said to one of the prospects I’d met earlier, winking at me before she went in search of her husband.

“I need to talk to you,” he said and I could feel the nervous energy crackle between us. “The club has a plan that could help get Rosaline out of the villa safely and take down Manuel at the same time, but we need you to help pull it off.” “Anything I can do,” I said. I noticed Piston look up from the bar at my words, meet my eyes, then look away again. “Does Manuel know about Rosaline?” “We’re not sure. And don’t promise things you can’t deliver,” Flash said darkly. Tugging on my hand, he pulled me upstairs and into his room. The night before, we’d slept in the guest room where his mother had tied me to

the bedpost. Now I saw his room for the first time. Dark curtains covered the windows and the walls were bare. A thick, black comforter covered the massive bed that dominated the room, and despite everything that had happened, just the sight of it made me crave his body again. Sigh. Lust. Clearing the erotic blinders from my eyes, I deliberately moved to sit on his desk chair. Documents covered every surface of the large oak desk, and I caught some numbers before he apologized and started slipping them into folders. “Club stuff,” he explained.

“It’s fine.” I smiled at him. During the long months apart, I’d thought more than I should have about what life with Flash would have been like, wondered whether I could have accepted that he’d have loyalty and secrets to the club that I couldn’t be a part of. One night, sitting on the balcony and watching the dark surf, I’d decided that I could have done it. For him, I would have lived with it. Being with him made the decision even stronger. Flash was what I wanted, and The Fallen was a part of him. I’d never ask him to choose between me and the club. “So what’s the plan?” I wasn’t eager to hear it, but his obvious edginess had me

nervous and I wanted to clear it away. Telling me whatever plan they’d concocted might help him calm down and act like himself again. “We need to take Manuel out.” I nodded, not surprised. As soon as I saw the dead man, I knew that Manuel was living on borrowed time. “When will you leave?” Dread filled me at the thought of him being gone, of being separated again, but I got a grip before fear leeched into my tone. I had to trust Flash to handle himself. “It’s not as simple as putting a bullet through his head. If it was, we’d just send Piston to snipe him. Fact is, the cartel will collapse under its own

weight without a Deleon at the head.” “Cartels don’t operate on blood, though,” I said, wracking my brain to dig up limited knowledge of how the drugrunning organizations functioned. “It’s usually strength or seniority.” “Not the Deleons,” he said, dropping to a knee and taking my hand in his. He stroked the fragile bones under my skin and looked into my eyes. The temperature of the room felt like it dropped 20 degrees. “And I’m the last Deleon.” Flash nodded, squeezing my fingers tighter. Out of nowhere, I remembered the first time Dad had urged me to jump into a pool as I’d stood knock-kneed on

the diving board. When I finally bent my knees and pushed off into the empty air, my stomach had dropped down and the water rushed up at me, unavoidable. The same rushing up feeling closed over me now. “You want me to take over the cartel? Are you joking?” I ripped my hand away from his and stood up, walked to look out the window at the blue-night tinged trees in the park across the road. Maybe I’d spent a decade producing and selling meth, but it was never just me. I was just there. I knew nothing about cocaine, about running a cartel. “Emmy, it’s a lot to ask and you don’t have to say yes.”

“Why would you ask me to do that?” “Because the fallout if the Deleon Cartel breaks down will be enormous. All the resources it owns don’t disappear when Manuel does, and people will fight to the death to claim them. The most ruthless fucker of the bunch will win— I’m sure Piston will throw one of us into it—but it’ll be bloody. A lot of good men will die.” “A lot of bad ones, too.” “True.” He rocked back on his heels, rubbing a hand over his temples. “But I’m not worried about them. Are you?” “No,” I said. It was the same conundrum that had sent me flying from him six months before. How responsible was I

for the deaths of nameless, faceless people, though? “What if I don’t agree?” “Then you stay here and we kill Manuel. The cartel rots into the ground or gets picked up by someone else.” I thought of what Flash’s father had told me earlier in the day and realized that they were right. The only way to keep things stable long enough to break up the cartel was to take control myself. Rage and fear mixed together, churning deep inside. If I was being honest, though, there was a little eagerness, too. As much as I didn’t want to be the kind of girl who’d choose a life like that, it looked like blood would tell after all.

“If I do it?” “We go to Mexico and you kill Manuel.” “Me?” “Yes. To consolidate power, you’ll have to take him out. It wouldn’t be that way if you were his daughter, but his people will expect you to punish him for killing Rafael. We’ll get him. All you have to do is pull the trigger.” “Flash, I don’t regret killing Santiago, but it tore me up for months—and he was about to kill you when I did. How am I supposed to kill someone when he’s defenseless?” “I’m sorry, Emily. I wish I could shield you from this.”

“I need to think.” “Then think. But we don’t have much time. Piston says we’re leaving for Mexico tomorrow, with or without you.” “But it’s better with me?” “Yes.” “What do you think I should do?” His face closed down, and I knew the answer before he said it. “Take the cartel. It’s the best way take care of the people who can’t protect themselves.” “I assume The Fallen will still be selling for me?” “Yes,” he said slowly, “but there are other ways for us to make money. I

wouldn’t ask you to do this just to keep a revenue stream.” I believed him and kissed his cheek. “If you think it’s the right thing to do, then I’ll do it.” I trusted him with everything. Rising from the bed, I pulled on a sweater. “I need some time.” “I’ll come with you.” “Alone.” “You can’t go out alone.” “I won’t leave the property,” I promised and his jaw clenched, but he let me go. Leaving the only person I wanted to be around, even for moments, was difficult, but life had just shifted again and I needed the space. I needed to breathe.

I walked out the front door and sat down on the porch. I wondered whether Flash and I would always live in the heart of the city. It had its charms, but at heart, I loved space and privacy. Then it hit me that if their plan worked, I’d be living in Mexico. And Flash? He’d still be here with The Fallen. I was going to have to be a commuter cartel leader, because the most important thing was to be where he was. “Nice night,” Piston said, pushing through the door and sitting down next to me. “But you shouldn’t be out in it alone.”

“Why?” I wrapped my arms around myself and slid my eyes over to study him. The rakish leader of the club was calm tonight, but I’d seen him run after the men who’d dumped his friend’s body. There was heat and anger in there. “Manuel could have more men we don’t know about watching the clubhouse. Risking your life isn’t an option.” “No one is there,” I said, gesturing toward the park. I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life in hiding, no matter the reason. “Even so.” He nodded and two shadowy figures detached themselves from the sides of the clubhouse. One slipped across the street into the trees. The other

took up sentry near the thin metal fence that enclosed the building. “What’s on your mind?” “Taking control of the cartel.” “You’re a Deleon, Emily. It’s in your blood and you have experience. There couldn’t be a better candidate.” I wondered whether he considered shipping meth experience, but held my tongue. No reason to antagonize him, not when The Fallen would end up being my greatest allies if their plan worked and I was sitting at the head of the Deleon Cartel. “I’m not ruthless, though,” I said, dropping my head into my hands. “How can I keep people who don’t know me—

have never known me—in line?” Sighing, I looked up and wished I could see the stars from here. Light pollution kills them up and down the coast. “I hated what I did for Dale. Hated every second of it.” “You were a slave then, Emily. You’re not anymore. Your real father’s reputation will go a long way toward making them accept you,” he said, conciliatory. “The club will help with any enforcement problems you face. I also think you should cut ties with the Columbians and scale back the operation to what it was before Manuel got greedy.” “Why?” I agreed, based on my limited

knowledge, but was interested in hearing his reasoning. Bill had explained the way Manuel had extended the reach of the cartel at the expense of safety and discretion. “They’re dangerous. As long as they’re involved, you’re never going to be able to run it clean.” His hands flexed on the knees of his worn jeans while his eyes scanned the park, leaping from one tree to the next. No one was there. I agreed. “I don’t know how to break that contract.” “We’ll help.” The light coming from the club windows made him look harsh, but he was still so handsome—and worried. Knowing he was Flash’s best friend

made me want to comfort him, but I was too lost in my own worries. “I wish there was more time.” “For what?” “To prepare,” I said, throwing up my hands. “I’m not ready for this. I never wanted this.” “As soon as Manuel knows we’re gunning for him and that you’re our rallying point, he’s going to kill Rosaline. He hasn’t yet, but he will. It’s just good business.” “How is that good business?” “When you have an enemy, you take them down. Fast and final. Killing the last parent you have would be a damn good

way to take you out of the game.” “I want to save her.” “Then think about what we’re offering. You won’t be alone down there, and we’ll teach you the things you need to know. Hell, girl, I’ll even personally help you take it apart piece by piece once all the dust settles if you don’t want to keep running it.” I wasn’t sure whether I’d want to keep running it or not. That was a worry for another time. As much as I hated to admit it, selling drugs was what I’d done my whole life. I was good at it. And— more importantly—nature abhors a vacuum. If I let go of the power that was being offered to me, someone ruthless

and more terrible could pick it up. “What about Flash?” “I don’t think I could pry that man away from you with a crowbar.” His face grew even more handsome when his lips twisted with a sardonic smile. “I think he’ll have to be the Fallen representative down in Mexico. Expect lots of trips up here.” My heart lightened a little. Flash moving to Mexico hadn’t even crossed my mind. “Trips up sound nice,” I said, and meant it. My impression of The Fallen Motorcycle Club before I’d met them had been that they were all killers. It was skewed, though, because I hadn’t seen them kill for reasons that weren’t

right. Nothing about the bikers was intimidating to me anymore, because Flash had claimed me. Me. I was one of them now. “So you’ll do it?” I nodded and saw relief dawn in his eyes. Whether he cared about the money they’d keep from working with the cartel or whether he was genuinely worried about the people involved in the operation was still questionable. “Thanks, Emily,” he said. Nodding, he walked into the clubhouse and I sat back against the wall, looking up at the full moon and trying to decide how to make everything work without losing my life or, worse, losing Flash.

When I finally went inside, only one man sat in the lounge. I vaguely recognized him as Jackson. “Are you okay?” I asked, moving toward the couch with measured steps. I’d seen his wild grief and agony when his friend’s body fell into his arms and didn’t want the whip edge of the rage to come down on me. “Alright,” he said, leaning back. “Saw you talking to Piston. He said you’re in.” “I am.” “You think you can kill Manuel?” I wondered whether he saw a piece of

fluff without any substance when he looked at me, because the skepticism was hot in his eyes. Nodding, I moved closer and sat next to him. “I already killed his son.” Jackson looked me up and down, grudging respect in his eyes. “You’re a tiny thing.” He sighed. “Don’t have to be big to use a gun,” I pointed out and he offered me the bottle of vodka he was drinking from. “No, thank you.” “Your loss.” “I’m sorry about your friend.” I wasn’t sure whether it was something I should say, but it felt wrong to not acknowledge

the man’s sacrifice. “It’s obvious you cared about him a lot.” “He was my brother. A good man. I killed one of the men who killed him, but it still wasn’t enough.” “I’m sorry,” I said again. I knew how he felt, in a way. My parents were dead. My biological father was dead. I wished I could have just a taste of the vengeance that he’d received. Killing Manuel might give me that—or it might propel me headfirst into months of nightmares. Sobering, he turned to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “He died because Manuel is a psychotic piece of shit. Not because of you. Don’t put that burden on yourself.”

I nodded. “Are you going to be okay?” “People die. You move on eventually.” He swirled the bottle of vodka and looked into the clear liquid. “He didn’t deserve the end he got.” “Few do,” I said, thinking of my parents. “True enough.” “Are you going to Mexico?” “I am,” he said. “I want to be there to see that fucker get the ending he deserves.”

Flash was still awake when I came back into the room. His eyes were open and

staring at the ceiling, but moved to me the second I came through the door. He opened his arms and I went into them gratefully. The ropey muscles held me tight to his chest and I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent. Something about his warm body made me feel more relaxed as we stayed in silence. “Are you okay?” he said after long minutes. “Not really,” I said, “but I will be in a few days. I spoke to Piston and told him that I’ll do it.” “I’ll be with you every step of the way, Emmy. You’ll never be alone again.” “I know,” I said, believing him totally.

Wanting him to see the truth reflected in my eyes, I twisted so that I was almost on top of him and then met his gaze. “You’re mine.” “I’m never letting you get away again.” “I won’t ever try. Leaving you once almost destroyed me. I’m not sure I’d survive a second time.” “Emily, if you’re ever away from me again, I’ll never stop looking. I’ll tear the world apart until you’re back where you belong.” “With you,” I said. He nodded and pulled me closer. “You don’t have to kill Manuel,” Flash said, his voice almost a whisper. “I can

make sure that only us and a few of the guys are in the room. No one is going to say that you didn’t. We’ll spread it about that you did and that’ll be the end of it.” I nodded, grateful, but doubts crawled through me. If I couldn’t kill the man who killed my biological father and sent Flash’s brother’s corpse back mutilated, then what kind of leader would I be? If I always deferred to The Fallen and made them do the dirty work, then in some ways I would be as bad a leader as Manuel. “It has to be the way Rafael ran it,” I told him. “I can’t let people die so that I can sell drugs. I’ll walk away before it comes to that.” I could run the cartel

clean, I thought. I just had to learn how. From what Bill had told me about the current state of things, there was a lot of grunt work to do before we got it to where it needed to be. “We’ll walk away,” he said, his voice final. “It’s not just you anymore.” His lips met mine in a slow, warm kiss that spoke not of passion, but of connection. Cuddling closer, I planted a kiss on his chest, rested my head there and closed my eyes. I didn’t think I’d fall asleep, but when I opened my eyes again it was morning and The Fallen were getting ready to head to Mexico.

Flash Driving south with Emily pressed against me was like taking a heavenly chariot straight to hell. My brothers spread out around us, ahead and behind, to protect her from any attempts on her life on the off chance that Manuel knew

how quickly we were moving. It wasn’t likely, but you don’t gamble with what matters most. As important as it was that we made it down fast, the plan still included one overnight stop. Going up against trained guards and enforcers who might not prove as loyal to Rafael as Dad assured me they were meant that we needed to be ready. Sleep, steak and a little time off our asses would help clear out our minds and get us in fighting form. Winding down the coast road, I felt Emily lean her head against my back and knew she was looking out at the waves crashing below the cliffs. My girl loved the ocean, and I looked forward to a

future where I’d be able to take her to it as often as she wanted. Once things cleared up, I’d spend a whole week with her on a hot, private beach somewhere, rubbing oil into that perfect golden skin. The happy days I’d promised her long ago were going to be more tricky than I’d thought then. All this fucking trouble because one man felt slighted when his brother took over the cartel, and it was going to keep echoing for us after his death. I’d felt her shudder in her sleep when she dreamed of shooting Santiago the night before we left. Would seeing Manuel killed make the nightmares worse? Making the choice to put him down

myself cleared out some of the cobwebs from my brain. After a life of logical choices, I was a fucking caveman when it came to Emily. All I could think about was protecting her from immediate danger, and her having to plant a bullet in that fucker’s head was something my lizard brain just couldn’t handle. If I was honest with myself, I was worried she’d break. The engine purred as the sun started to dip. Soon we’d be at the hotel for the night and then tomorrow we’d make it the rest of the way to the villa and Manuel.

My woman stared out at the sea, pensive, the dress she’d changed into for dinner blowing gently in the ocean air that rose off the waves and buffeted about her. Emily was too beautiful, I thought, and too fragile to be going through all this—but then I stopped myself. Her delicate beauty belied the strength inside. Every bomb that had been dropped on her, she’d ducked, rolled and come up with her fists raised. My girl was a fighter. Her fingers clenched on the railing of the balcony and it was all I could do not to go to her and shelter her in my arms. Soft urges, the likes of which I’d never felt before, haunted me any time she was

within sight. When she was gone, my nerves ate at me, wondering whether she was safe and happy. Then I’d see her pink lips curve in a grin when she spotted my face and it was like I’d been handed the keys to the kingdom. “Flash?” she said, walking back into the room, but leaving the door open so the sounds of the waves still surrounded us. “Yes?” “I’m scared.” “No need to be, baby girl. You’ve got this.” I wrapped my hand around her slender fingers and pulled her over to the bed. “We’ve got this.” “What if something happens to you?”

I smiled. “I’ve been through worse than trying to upset the balance of power in a cartel. Just wait. We’ll come out the winners, you’ll see.” “Jackson seems like he’s not dealing with things very well,” she said, her eyes dimming. Probably remembering the way Mudd looked after he was dead. “I don’t know how he’ll manage tomorrow.” “He’s strong,” I said. “We were in the Army together, and he held up. He’ll hold up now.” I was worried about him, just like she was. The dark circles under his eyes were growing and he snapped at anyone who suggested he get some rest. Even now he was out on the streets,

doing god knows what. “It just seems like it’s hurting him.” “It is. But he’ll cope.” He had to. Her worry over my brothers made me love her more, if such a thing were possible. The first day we’d spent together, I’d recognized her courage, her kindness. But now those feelings seemed thin and cheap. What she inspired in me now was like the sea outside our window, roaring and endless, covering the whole Earth. She was my center. I got up and poured her a glass of water, then watched with satisfaction as she drank it. Providing for her was what I

wanted to do. “We need to sleep soon,” I said, patting one of the down pillows on the bed. “Early day tomorrow.” “I’m not ready to sleep yet.” Her eyes glowed with passion when they locked on mine and I felt a lump in my throat. Fucking was never just fucking when it came to Emily, but now we were on a different level. Something more real than either of us had known before. It should have scared the shit out of me. It doesn’t. Sliding back on the bed, Emily held out a hand. I took it gladly. Kissing her soft lips, I pushed her hair away from her face and studied her. I’m

the luckiest guy in the entire world. Despite everything, she was here with me and I would keep her safe tomorrow, no matter what it took. “I love you,” she said softly. “I think I have for a long time.” “I love you too,” I told her. “When this is all over, it’s going to be you and me.” Gathering her into my arms, I kissed her neck and inhaled her sweet scent. There was no way we could lose as long as I had her to fight for. For her, I’d always win.

We came at the villa from the desert. It

meant a three mile hike over burning sands from the nearest access road, but avoiding the watchful eyes of the guards along the main road made it worth the effort. Piston, Jackson, Emily and I came over the rise and saw the villa, stark white against the horizon. “Do you have the bolt cutters?” asked Piston, motioning for us to move to our bellies. There, we surveyed the property. “Yeah,” said Jackson. “They’re in my pack.” We were all loaded down with everything we could possibly need, even though sneaking in wouldn’t be difficult. Rafael had never needed much security, and Manuel hadn’t updated the entire

place when he took over. “Will it trigger an alarm?” “Not if we cut through the old section by the original house.” It was left as a kind of guest home and ignored for the most part. “We’ll have to upgrade the security once everything evens out.” I wasn’t letting my old lady stay in a place that wasn’t fully secure. Emily smiled at me, lighting up the already-bright desert. Soon the sun would set and we’d make our way down the hill. Each of us was wearing long sleeves and pants in the same color as the sand, hoping we’d be able to blend. The last thing we needed was Manuel’s watchdogs spotting us and sending a

patrol up into the dunes. Dad was in town, meeting a contact he knew was loyal to Rafael. That man, he’d promised, would put out the word that the old regime had fallen as soon as we had Manuel’s head. The rest of the guys were a few miles down the road, blending in to the town. Once we’d breeched the perimeter, they’d hop on their bikes and storm the gates, taking out the guards and securing the compound in minutes. Arguments had flown in church about whether we should just crash it head on, but Piston had shot them down, saying that it might give Manuel time to get away. We had to reach him before any alarms

were raised. My hands itched to get down there and start cracking skulls. Not every person in that house was someone who’d stay on the payroll. With the exception of Rosaline, I didn’t think we’d keep any of them—Emily’s safety wasn’t something I was willing to trust to those who’d worked for a man who’d ordered her death not once, but twice. But most of them would just be sent to work elsewhere, if they chose. Some would die, though. Anyone who was armed. And anyone who threatened Emily. The four of us were mostly quiet as the sun sank lower and the temperature

dropped. Anticipation sizzled in the air, and I knew each of my brothers and my woman were as ready as I was to charge down. Finally, Piston pushed himself up. “Let’s move,” he said. Rising, we followed him down the hill and into war.

Emily Jackson clipped the fence with the bolt cutters, each crack of metal on metal sending a new wave of butterflies through my stomach. The adrenaline churning through my veins already put me on edge—the sharp sound of cutting

metal had my eyes darting around, looking for someone with a gun on his way to investigate the potential break-in. But no one came. Only dust and sand surrounded us. Once the hole was finished, Jackson bent down the thick chains and each of us crawled through the space he’d created. Piston was so large that a link caught on his jacket, but I reached out and pulled it free before it could rip into the leather. He rewarded me with a rare smile. “We stay together,” Flash said, punching a message into his satellite phone to alert the rest of The Fallen to exactly what was going on. Knowing that they’d be coming, a cavalry charging in on the

backs of their Harleys, helped soothe some of my frazzled nerves. Our small band wouldn’t be in this alone. Reaching the servant’s entrance undetected, Jackson picked the lock and then swung the door open. A woman stepped into the foyer from the hallway, turning toward us. Piston grabbed her and locked his hand over her mouth, preventing her from crying out. Flash pulled supplies from his pack and passed a soaked cloth to Piston, who held it over the mouth and nose of the struggling woman until she went limp. “We have to hurry,” he said, lowering her to the floor and binding her wrists. “Move.”

Clearing the villa room by room, the men either executed guards or left employees tied on the ground, with the promise that nothing would happen to them the last thing they heard before the drugs lured them into unconsciousness. But we still couldn’t find Manuel. As we approached the room where I’d been stripped and sentenced to death, a chill crept over my entire body that had nothing to do with the cool air blasting out of the vents on the ceiling. Memories assailed me like a physical blow and it was all I could do to keep my knees from knocking together. Sounds from the

room—men talking, ice clinking in glasses—bled into the hallway through the crack in the door, reminding me too much of the first time I was there. Piston moved forward, waving to us to stay back. Lifting a hand, he signaled to the rest of us that there were five men in the room. I strained my ears for the sound of the bikes approaching the compound, though I knew I wouldn’t be able to hear them through the thick walls anyway. Three men and me versus five who were likely armed? Way outnumbered. Even now, doubts filtered through the panic that swelled up like a wave. If Manuel was in there, he’d be dead soon

and I’d be the de facto head of the Deleon Cartel. Head of a cartel in a country where I didn’t live and with people I’d never met, in a business I wasn’t experienced with. I’d helped package and sell meth in basements and garages. We were a long from there. Flash pushed me against the wall, his hands rough. “Stay here until we call you in.” I nodded, but it felt wrong somehow to let them go without me. The gun in my hand burned hot, even though the metal and my skin were both cold. If I was going to take charge, shouldn’t I be the first one into the room? But the men rushed in and chaos erupted.

Spanish curses rose over the sound of screams and the voices of The Fallen ordering the men to put their hands on the table. A screech of chair legs against the wooden floor, and then a gunshot. The sound was like someone pumped chill water through me. Flash. Before I could move, he was there, looking around the door frame and motioning me into the room. On the floor, a body cooled, face down. Four men sat at the table, their wrists bound with the same white plastic ties the men had used on the household domestics. None of them bothered to look at me, either staring at Piston or the man on the

floor. “Where’s Manuel?” Piston asked one of the men, holding his thin hair in one hand and pulling his head back so their eyes met. “Fuck you,” the man said crisply. Piston nodded and lodged a bullet in his brain. Blood and brain matter sprayed out against the wall and I bit down on my lip hard to keep from vomiting. Piston merely stepped through the mess and took the next man’s jaw in his hand. This one, unlike the others, didn’t have a mouth twisted into a nasty snarl. He met Piston’s eyes steady and held the look. “We were allies,” he said, calm. “What are you doing?”

“We were allies until Manuel killed one of ours.” “He must have had good reason,” the man said. But doubt slid over his eyes. I wondered if this one would end up making it out of the room alive. “Like he did to kill Rafael?” Flash asked, moving so the man could see him. I felt invisible. They were speaking of my family—possibly my future—and I was less important than the lit sconces on the walls. “Rafael was sick.” “He was poisoned,” Piston said. “According to you.” “No,” said Flash. “According to Javier.”

“Javier? He disappeared days ago.” “He called my father,” Flash said. “It’s true. Manuel told him the truth about Rafael and Rafael’s daughter, ordering him to send his men to succeed where The Fallen failed to kill Esme Deleon. Knowing that, he defected. He thought Dad might be able to protect the daughter of the man he’d worked for all those years.” “What girl?” The man still hadn’t noticed me standing silent by the wall. “There’s no girl. Rafael didn’t have a child.” “He did,” said Piston. “He and his wife had a little girl. They called her Esme.” Esme. I wished that someone had told

me before then. “Not true.” The man’s face twisted into a sneer and Piston’s hand twitched on the gun. I couldn’t stand it. My throat felt thick, but I took an unsteady step forward. “It is true,” I said, and all eyes in the room turned to me. Straitening my spine and swallowing to clear my throat, I met the eyes of the man who’d denied me. “I’m Emily Deleon. Or Esme Deleon, if you prefer. Rafael and Rosaline are my parents.” His face blanched as he stared at me, searching my eyes, my lips, my hair for some sign that I was lying or telling the truth. “You’re Rosaline’s little girl…”

He shook his head. “She died.” “No,” I said. “They sent me to live with adoptive parents in America so that Manuel wouldn’t try to kill me.” “Why would he—?” “He wanted power.” “Are you going to listen to this shit?” said one of the bound men. I had enough experience with drug users to recognize the signs of a bad high. He was all large pupils and shaking hands. “Kill the girl and get these fuckers out of here.” “Bad idea,” said Flash. He lifted his gun and fired. The man’s trip was over. “What the fuck, Flash? You’ve known Jose since you were a kid.”

“I’ve always hated that asshole,” my man said, looking dispassionately at the body. “And Emily is mine. Threaten her at your peril.” “I’m going to ask again,” said Piston, interrupting all of us. “Where is Manuel?” “Oh, shit,” said the more reasonable man. “He’s probably in his room. Some of his men got killed in LA and he flipped his shit. Called Rosaline to bring him whiskey.” “We’re going to kill him,” Flash said. “What do you think of that?” The man cocked his head to the side, considering. “I preferred Rafael,” he said finally. “Things were better then.

You have any idea what you’re taking on, girl?” “You can call me Emily,” I said, “or Ms. Deleon. But you’re not going to call me girl.” Hesitant respect lit his eyes. “Emily, do you know what it means if Manuel dies.” “It means I’m taking charge,” I said, surprised by the steadiness of my voice. “It’s mine by blood.” Daring him to challenge me. He lowered his head. “Fair enough. I’ll be here whenever you boys get around to finishing off my ex-boss.” “And you?” Flash said to the final man. The man spit in his face.

Piston took the shot. We left the reasonable man in a room surrounded by bodies. His face was more annoyed than horrified, and I wondered whether he would be the type Bill had told me about. The type worth keeping around.

No sound came from the thick wooden door in front of Manuel’s room. We hadn’t seen anyone else during our trek across the top floor of the villa. It meant that Flash had been correct and Manuel was still keeping all his guards outside, sure he was safe in his home.

Not anymore. “What if he’s sleeping?” I whispered. Somehow it seemed worse to me to burst in and kill a sleeping man than to face down one with a gun. “All the better,” Piston said. In the distance, I heard the sound of gunfire. It sounded oddly like fireworks and not like men dying. Maybe men I liked. It meant one thing: The Fallen had arrived. If we were going to get to Manuel, it had to be now. Without further hesitation, Flash went through the door. Manuel was standing at the window, looking out into the courtyard. He had a gun in his hand. Turning, he saw me.

“You,” he spat. “I should have killed you.” He raised the gun, but Flash was faster. He slammed into Manuel like a freight train, sending him to the floor hard. Manuel’s grip on the gun was broken. The pistol skittered over the wood and Jackson dashed out to grab it. Flash landed a punch into Manuel’s face with a sickening crack, but Manuel kicked Flash off, surprisingly agile, and reached to grab the woman who’d stepped in from the sitting area with a bottle of liquor and a thick crystal tumbler in her hands. He wrapped an arm around her neck, tight enough that her eyes bulged and she dropped the items she’d held. They hit

the floor and smashed, sending pieces of glass and the brown liquor everywhere. “I’ll kill her.” He tightened his grip and Rosaline gasped for air. Still, her gaze was locked on me, fear mixed with longing. Wanting to reach for her with everything inside me, I reined myself in and kept my face cool. If he knew she meant something to me, I was sure Manuel would kill her just to hurt me. “I don’t care,” Piston said. “She’s nothing to me.” I would have interjected then, scared Manuel would answer the taunt by killing her, but Flash locked an arm on my wrist. “Should have known you’d be the kind to hide behind a woman,” Jackson

chimed in, his finger on the trigger of his gun. Manuel turned to Jackson, keeping Rosaline in front of his body like a shield. While he was distracted, Flash moved around the perimeter of the room, slowly—so slowly—coming closer to my biological mother and the man who threatened her. “Once she’s gone, you’re dead no matter what,” said Piston, not moving his gun away from where it was trained on Manuel. “You don’t walk out of here.” Flash was getting closer. A hot ball of nerves rolled in my stomach while I stared at my mother’s eyes—my eyes. Trembling, she curved her rosy lips up into the semblance of a smile.

She didn’t want me to see her die scared. She was in me and so was my dad, and my adoptive parents and Dale —and Manuel too. The coward. The bad parts and the good. They were all in me. Flash lunged, throwing Rosaline back toward the bed while he twisted Manuel’s arm up so hard that it cracked, sickeningly. The older man went down with a pathetic groan. If I wasn’t brave, I’d end up like the man cowering in Flash’s grip. Too weak to face the things I’d done. Too cowardly to lead. “No,” I said. “Flash, wait.”

He turned to me, his hands crushing Manuel’s arm. Flash’s eyes filled with pity when he took my measure, thinking I was going to beg for the bastard’s life. “He has to die, Emily.” “No,” Manuel said, his eyes darting to mine. Everything about him was disgusting. He was lower than the belly of a snake. “We’re blood. We’re family. Spare me.” “He’ll keep trying to kill you,” Flash said, frustration on his face. “I’m not going to spare him,” I said, and watched the hope die in the Manuel’s eyes. “But you’re not going to pull the trigger. I am.” “Why?”

“He killed my father. He tried to use my mother as a shield. He twisted this place into something that none of the family wanted—and I don’t care if it’s because he’s a crazy bastard or if he’s just hungry for power. It should be me who kills him.” To my relief, Flash nodded. “We share the same blood,” Manuel said as I approached him. That blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, staining the white shirt he wore. “Our blood is dirty,” I said, hoping he saw the disgust on my face. “I’m going to start cleaning it up.” Flash pulled Manuel up so his back was straight, looking down at the weeping

man with disdain. I pressed the gun against the back of his skull. His entire body was shaking. Without a word, I pulled the trigger. He slumped to the ground. I loosened my grip on the gun and let it fall next to his body. Nausea raced through me, but no regret. “You,” Rosaline said, moving across the room to me and reaching out a shaky hand to touch my arm. When I turned fully to her, she moved the hand up to cup my cheek. “You came back.” “I’m here,” I said, searching her face. After years, it was so strange to see myself reflected in another person. The first night I’d met her, I’d been too

shaken and terrified to see just how alike we really were. Our lips were both full, our tresses long and waving. Her hair was lighter than mine, and I wondered if my darker shades were from my father. There’d be plenty of time to find out. The door slammed inward and all three of the men positioned themselves between me, Rosaline and the door. But it was only Bill. Behind him were several other members of The Fallen. “The villa is down,” Bill said, excitement sparking in his eyes. “Javier is out spreading the word that a new Deleon is taking the reins.” I wrapped an arm around Rosaline’s waist and reached for Flash. His fingers

locked with mine and he smiled. In his perfect eyes, I saw the rest of my life. We left the body on the floor and went out to start doing what needed to be done.

Two Months Later Flash Never thought I’d take a break from The Fallen. Alright, so it’s not really a break, but I’m not going to be attending church more

than once a month either. Normally Piston would come down hard on someone for that kind of bullshit. In this case, I think the steady flow of coke keeps him happy. I’d never imagined myself living south of the border either, but it grows on me every day. It doesn’t hurt that my old lady looks damn good in a white bikini, all stretched out in the courtyard and soaking up the sun when she’s not trying to get shit back on track. Her smile comes more and more often, and I can’t ever get enough of it. It lights up my whole life. The second day that Emily was in charge

of the cartel, she went out to meet the people working for her in the factories —heavily guarded by a troupe of my brothers. The people Manuel had kidnapped for slave labor were released with compensation the same day, after Emily insisted on interviewing each person individually. Negotiations with Columbia had been significantly more complicated. The manufacturers who had contracts with Manuel weren’t going to let the money or the mules slide as easily. But Emily was standing up to it. Every day I saw her spine straighten a little more as she grew into the role as a Deleon. Dad introduced her around to

Rafael’s top men and they seemed to have accepted her—but it would be a long time before she’d be without a Fallen escort. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I walked outside to the pool behind the house. The blue water was undisturbed and I felt a second of panic while I canvassed the area, my heart slowing when I saw Emily reclined on a lounger, chatting on her mobile phone. When she saw me, she said something, closed the phone and waved me over. “Tommy?” I slipped a finger under the strap on her bikini and slid it over. Paler skin greeted my gaze where the cloth had protected her from the sun. I pressed my

lips to her tanned shoulder, feeling her skin almost sizzle. “He’s doing good,” she said. “Piston showed up yesterday and took him for a ride during his liberty.” “Really?” “Yeah. Piston promised me he’d look out for Tommy before he went back to LA.” She stretched out, then spotted my beer. Fast as a frog’s tongue, she hooked it with her fingers and tilted it into her mouth. “Just what I wanted,” she said with a sigh, pulling me back against her. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders and tickled me when she leaned in to place a

clumsy kiss at the corner of my lips. Hard to believe that a year ago, I didn’t want a woman—and now I couldn’t imagine a single day without her by my side. “Did you tell Javier that we’re going to LA at the end of the month?” Javier was proving to be the most useful of all the Deleon men. He also filled in the gaps of stories Rosaline told about Emily’s father. “He knows,” she said, and sighed. “What do you want to do tonight?” “Nothing on the docket?” Since she’d officially accepted her role as Emily Deleon, we hadn’t had a night that ended

before three in the morning. “We’re free.” Freedom. It was the only thing I’d ever really cherished other than The Fallen— and now, her.

Emily When I wasn’t snuggled up with Flash, meeting with men who eyed me suspiciously, or on the phone, I was getting to know Rosaline. Despite the time that passed, I wasn’t ready to call her mom. To me, Mom was still the woman who’d died in a car accident so many years ago. But we were learning

our way around each other and she loved me. I already loved her, too. The first morning after Manuel had died, I’d awakened with Flash and showered, then stood in the middle of the room in a towel. Not sure what to do or where to go. A soft knock at the door got my attention and Flash opened it, revealing Rosaline. “I brought you cocoa,” she said, setting down a tray with cocoa and buttered toast. “My mom used to make it for me in the mornings.” Rosaline had ended up in Mexico by way of Cincinnati and still had parents living there. I wondered if I’d go meet them someday. “Thank you,” I said, awkward, unsure

how I should proceed with the woman who was responsible for my birth and my subsequent rehoming. Flash took a sip from the delicate china cup and then handed it to me. “It’s good,” he said. “Thank you.” Her smile was shy, but I came to understand in the following days that she was a bold woman. After her husband had been murdered, she’d heard Manuel raving about an unknown heir. While she believed that I was safe, she wasn’t completely sure. When she could have returned home, she’d elected to stay at the villa in case he got ahold of her daughter. Then Dale turned me in and her

nightmares came true. So Rosaline sent my own personal white knight to save me. I took a sip of the rich liquid and my eyebrows shot up. “It’s amazing.” “I’ll teach you to make it,” she said. “You don’t have to work in the kitchen anymore.” “I like to cook,” she said simply, shrugging. “I know you have much to do today, but if you have time tonight or tomorrow, I’d like to spend some of it with you.” I’d agreed, and Rosaline joined Flash and The Fallen for dinner at our long dining table that night. She’d regaled us

with stories about my father, who she built up to be both fearless and dashing, cunning and kind. Like me, he was moody when he was hungry. I laughed when she said that, remembering how hungry I was when Flash and I had first driven into Sonora. Every day we strengthened the tenuous bond between us. It would only become stronger. News came from LA that Tommy was doing exceptionally well in rehab, and that some of The Fallen had even taken to spending time with him during visiting hours. Despite the dark thoughts I’d had for him in the past, I was glad to hear it. When he called me, he told me about

group therapy and how scared he was of leaving and having access to meth again. “It’s going to be okay,” I told him. “You’re stronger than that.” “You never started using.” “I didn’t have your father. Dale probably would have broken my face if I’d tried to use the product—less for him.” I saw Flash walk out of the kitchen and felt excitement flutter in my chest. “Talk to you this weekend, okay?” “For sure. Stay safe.” He hung up and I pushed the phone onto the small glass table next to the lounge chair. Sliding in next to me, Flash kissed my shoulder and I felt that hot, glittery rush of passion that only he could give me. We chatted for a

moment, then sat together, looking out at the endless waves of sand. Flash smiled at me and wrapped his arms tight around my torso, pulling me up onto his lap. Curling against him, I watched the water in the pool sparkle and dance in the hot breeze that blew down off the dunes. So quickly, I’d gotten used to life in the villa—even if I still didn’t like to see the place where I’d killed Santiago and Manuel. If their lives were the price for what we had now, though, I would do it again. Over and over again. The day I’d been informed about the forced laborers, Javier had taken me to the facilities to show me the people

who’d been taken from their village. I offered them a choice: stay, go home or go anywhere you want on my dime. Manual was a crazy bastard, but we had fat coffers and I was more than willing to share with the people who’d been abused by my dead uncle. Some of the men chose to stay, but most people went home with lots of money in their pockets. I wished them well. The human trafficking Manual had started steering the cartel toward was more complicated. As the head of Deleon Cartel, I could control the production and flow of coke. Manuel hadn’t been at the head of the human trafficking organization—he’d been

hooked up to it by the Columbians who were still giving me a hard time about cutting ties with them. Jackson and a few of The Fallen were heading to South America to look into it. If we could find the women, we’d try to get them home. It wasn’t easy, but everything was falling into place. If I’d known what the future held last summer, I’d have walked into Santiago’s trap with open arms—the pain and misery had been worth it to get here, with the man I loved. The day Flash presented me with my property jacket, I’d been so excited that I’d whirled around rapturously, falling backwards until he caught me and kissed

me, long and hard. Then I’d slipped it on and walked around in front of him, modeling it. “Come here, woman,” he’d said, grabbing the hem and yanking me over. It was the only thing I’d had on for a few hours. Life was good. Life was damn good. “You want to have some fun right here before Javier or Rosaline gets back from town?” I ran a finger down between my breasts. “We have a few hours.” “Woman, you have no idea how much I want to,” Flash said, “but we have something that we need to do ASAP.” “What is it?” I ran through my mental to-

do list, but came up blank. “When you were hanging out with Rosaline this morning, I picked up a few things at the market.” “What?” “You said you’ve always wanted to learn how to make baked Alaska,” he said with a wide smile. “Everything you need is waiting in the kitchen. I even got a few extra cartons of ice cream in case we mess up and need to try it again.” I launched myself on top of him, wrapping my arms around him. “I love you so much,” I said. planting a kiss on his lips. “I love you, too, Emmy.” He rose from

the chair and held out his hand. “Let’s get cooking. The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can chase your cute ass up into our bedroom.” Lacing my fingers with his, I followed him into the house.

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BOLT Chapter One No white knight was on his way to save her and fix her problems. She’d have to do it herself. Anna picked up the egg cartons, bacon packages and cheese wrappers cluttering the prep area around the grill. Jim, the hashbrown-slinging cook at the Easy Bake, didn’t believe in clearing his own space, gathering his own ingredients or talking about news with women, but he made a damn good omelet. When she’d come to work late

that night with bourbon on her breath, he’d sighed and made her one stuffed with mushrooms, sausage and cheddar to help her get back on her feet for work. The trash bag was still only almost full, so she walked into the seating area and over to the bathrooms, emptying the small cans into the larger bag. Back in the dining room, she surveyed the people who’d come to eat just before closing at three—a couple of college kids and an old man with a newspaper. Typical crowd. Pushing through the swinging portal and back into the kitchen, she dropped the trash by the large steel door that would open to the alleyway and took a deep breath, her head still spinning

from the bourbon she’d consumed before leaving her apartment that night. She should have called in, but Marta was still out with her new baby and Steve, the owner, didn’t have anyone else. He’d had to come in himself to help out with the dinner crowd, which he almost never did. He hated working nights. Now he sat by the grill, chatting with Jim about a baseball game he was going to in New York the next week. Mel pushed through the swinging doors with a tray of dishes. “It’s just the last guy now,” she said. “Those kids went back to campus.” “I hope they brought a car.” Jim was making himself scrambled eggs, but turned from the griddle to eye Mel. “Did

they?” Detroit’s streets were nowhere for young people to be alone at night. “Yeah,” said Mel, putting an arm around Anna’s shoulders. “I watched them get into the car and leave.” “Fuck this city,” Anna said and Mel squeezed her closer. She knew what tonight was. “The night’s almost over. You have tomorrow off. Maybe go out to Anne Arbor and get a pedicure?” “Maybe,” Anna said, rubbing the tense skin at her temples with her fingertips. “I don’t know.” “It’s going to be okay.” Mel smelled like menthol and lavender, which made Anna want a cigarette more than she had since she got bronchitis

twice in one winter four years ago when she was 16 and quit smoking for good. “When I get back from Hawaii the week after next, why don’t you come over to my boyfriend’s place for dinner?” “Trying to set me up again?” She smiled weakly because it was expected, and because Mel was trying. She knew how hard this night was, and she was trying. It was enough to make Anna try too. “You know it.” Steve looked over at Anna and sighed, then heaved his bulk out of the chair and started across the sticky floor. Each step made a sucking sound as the rubber sole of his shoe connected with the floor and the floor reluctantly gave it

up again. He picked up the trash bag she’d left at the door. “I’ll take this out,” he said. “Why don’t you help Mel clean up and we’ll all go home.” “No,” said Anna, taking the bag from him. “Thank you, but honestly I could use a minute alone. Mel, can I have a cigarette?” Mel’s lips tightened, but she slid a Marlboro from the pack she kept in the pocket of her apron and tucked it behind Anna’s ear, then pulled out her lighter and slipped it into Anna’s apron. “It’s going to be okay,” she said, not for the first time that night. She rose to her tiptoes and pressed her lips against Anna’s forehead, stroking her long blonde hair with a steady hand.

The summer air was hot, heavy when she pushed open the door and entered the alley. Immediately she was damp with sweat that clung to her neck and back. Fuck, it was humid. She missed Augusta, the cool summer air and the way the pine forests pressed in on the home where she’d grown up. But she was 900 miles and 21 days away from seeing it again. Her mother had probably already made a list of foods she was going to make for Anna’s visit, had planned ways to lure her only daughter back home for good, even if they both knew she didn’t really want her home. The Easy Bake wasn’t the classiest place to work, but the neighborhood wasn’t the worst Detroit

had to offer, either. Her skirts were long enough that none of the groping regulars got a look at her ass, but short enough that she could go out for a real drink after a shift without having to change clothes. Maybe tomorrow she’d find an open bar that served cheap drinks and get well and truly smashed, say a toast to Carly and end up in some anonymous guy’s bed. She heaved the large black bag over the rim of the dumpster, then slumped back against the wall, disappointed with everything in her life. One year ago tonight, her best friend, partner-in-crime, and roommate had been kidnapped from an alley behind a club they’d frequented, leaving only

frantic voicemails and shadows on a convenience store surveillance video. Carly wouldn’t have gone out alone that night if Anna hadn’t been a bitch and snapped at her about the guy she was seeing. It was her fault. That night, she’d brought home a guy from the bioassay lab where she performed tests on wastewater from industrial operations. He’d had shortcropped blond hair and was slightly soft in the way guys are when they spend all their time at a desk. When he’d gone down on her, she’d tried to focus on his mouth and fingers, but really she’d been regretting making another nasty comment about the guy Carly was causally seeing.

He was also seeing four other girls, but Carly was convinced she could change him. “You can’t ever change men,” Anna had argued. “You’re throwing your life away on losers. Just date someone nice.” “Maybe I don’t like nice guys,” Carly had said, tears welling in her eyes. “Maybe I like this one. I love you, but back off.” “Fine.” Anna had stormed into her room and refused to come out when Carly asked if she was ready to go to the club. “Go by yourself if you need to spend so much time with shitty men,” Anna had told her through the door. “I can’t stand to watch it anymore.”

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand and she reached over to check who it was. Carly. Anna hovered a finger over the Call button, then pushed the phone away. “Keep going,” she said to the blond guy, reclining on the pillows and trying to lose herself in the tentative motions of his mouth. A minute later, the phone rang again. Anna reached over and silenced it, sending the call to voicemail. She couldn’t take another night of hearing about that useless guy or whatever loser Carly had found in his stead. The blond guy left after they’d fucked and now, just a year later, she couldn’t even remember his name. A few hours after he’d gone, loud pounding

against the front door of her apartment jolted her out of sleep. She wrapped an old blue bathrobe around herself and pulled open the door, ready to do violence. It was two police officers who proceeded to hammer her with questions about Carly, about the bar where she’d gone for a drink, about the man who’d taken her. Someone had taken her. She’d called 911 from the trunk of the car, but was put on hold. She didn’t get through. She called the police and begged for help, but the call had disconnected. Anna had pulled her phone from the charger, listened to the desperate messages and then given the phone to the

police. The next afternoon, she had enough presence of mind to log into her mobile provider’s website and download the voicemail messages to her computer. It had turned out to be a good move, because she’d never gotten that phone back. After the police had stopped looking, they told her it had been lost. The first message had been whispered and hard to decipher, muffled. “Anna,” Carly’s voice sounded like she was speaking from far away. “Anna, please help me. Help me. I don’t know who, but someone, there’s a man, and I’m—.” The call cut off there. The second message. “I tried to call for help. Where are you? I don’t know how long I’ve been in the car, the

trunk, I’m in a trunk, I can’t see anything. Help me, please.” The third message. “Blue car. Vine tattoo. The alley behind Dungeon. Help me. Please.” The sound of brakes and a metal clang. “No. No, motherfucker! No! Let go of me.” A deep voice said something unintelligible. Then the sound of something breaking and the call disconnected. No other calls had ever been made from her phone. Anna had listened to the messages again before coming into the Easy Bake tonight, but it was just to remember Carly. Her long red hair and easy smiles and metallic eyeliners. She’d lost her job after Carly had been

taken, locking herself in her apartment, buying a gun and spending every night at Dungeon with low-cut dresses and her weapon strapped to her thigh. No good. So she hired a PI and paid him all of her savings. The report, delivered two weeks ago, was grim. Carly had been taken by a professional cartel of men who sold women for profit. She’d been shipped to Thailand, then China, and killed in Shanghai. Her body was already buried in a pauper’s grave. Anna cringed, imagining her friend’s delicate limbs splayed out in soil, then shook her head to clear it. She reached for the cigarette again, put it to her lips and then abruptly snapped it in half.

She’d spent too much time out here already, reliving a tragedy. Carly was gone and there was nothing else she could do to find her best friend or make up for ignoring her when maybe, maybe it could have made a difference. It was time to accept defeat, buy a new transmission for her car with her tips from the Easy Bake, and head back to Maine for good. Detroit was nothing but trouble and bad memories. Before she could push back through the steel door, she heard a cry and the sound of shattering glass. Mel had probably dropped the last tray of coffee cups. Anna took a last, deep breath and then pushed through the steel door to help with the cleanup.

The kitchen was empty. Jim’s eggs were hardened and smoking on the griddle, so she rushed across the room and flipped the switch, shutting down the power. She grabbed a spatula and pried them off the bar, sweeping them into the trash bowl that they used for old food, then turned to the swinging doors to see what was so important that they’d left the griddle unattended. She looked through the door just in time to see an enormous mountain of a man lift a gun to Jim’s head and pull the trigger. His corpse slumped to the floor, next to the wasted bodies of Mel and Steve. Their faces were empty. No. No. Not them. Anna jerked back, the breath

leaving her lungs so that her mouth opened and closed like a fish on the line. She needed to make it to the steel door and out into the alley, but couldn’t take the steps. Her legs felt like spaghetti noodles, weak and limp, unable to move. She cartwheeled back, blindly reaching behind herself for the door and slammed into the cart with plates. They fell to the floor and shattered, glass raining across the tile floor. “What the fuck?” The man who’d shot her friends pushed through the door and surveyed the room, his eyes stopping on Anna. Before she could move, he grabbed her by the arm and marched her into the dining room. The wall behind the bodies was smeared with blood and

brain matter. She clapped her free hand to her mouth and swallowed back the vomit that threatened to erupt. Her body felt like it didn’t exist anymore, like it was light and this was a dream and in a minute she’d open her eyes and they’d be alive again. Except they weren’t. “Who’s this pretty little thing?” A handsome man with tanned skin and coal black hair crossed the room and took her face in his hands. They were dry and rough against her cheeks. “Hello, girl.” The large man took her other elbow so that both arms were trapped behind her and she could do nothing while the handsome man examined her. A spatter of blood was

casually smeared over his cheek. Anna gagged, averting her eyes before she lost the omelet Jim made her. The man’s gaze was a violation, lingering on her breasts before dipping lower and moving slowly back up. “Why?” she asked. He brought his eyes back to hers and smiled softly. “He didn’t want protection,” he said. “Didn’t want to be part of the team. Think of this as an object lesson.” “Want me to add her to the pile?” Her stomach dropped when the big man spoke, his voice a low rumble. She turned to meet his eyes, but stopped halfway when she spotted the tattoo peeking out from his black shirt sleeve. It wrapped around his arm, a black

curved line covered in thorns, ending near the elbow. Her mind shut down, all thoughts of safety evaporated like a puddle in the desert as the surveillance video, the phone messages, the man with the black vine tattoo all jumbled together in her head. “You,” she finally said, the words barely a whisper as they slipped past her trembling lips. “You took Carly. You motherfucker.” She pushed back against him, her shoes slipping against the floor, and elbowed him in the gut. He coughed, but gripped his fingers harder into her arm. The third man walked over and punched her hard in the gut so that she doubled over, only held up by the large man’s hands.

“You know Little Red? Interesting.” The handsome man looked at her again, his gaze sharper this time. “Maybe we should consider a reunion.” “I thought I recognized her,” said the man with that tattoo, tightening his grip. “You don’t really want to keep this bitch around, do you?” “Let’s keep her for a day or two. She might be fun.” They both laughed and Anna tried to control her breathing. Red spots danced in front of her eyes and she fought to stay conscious. “Help me drag this mess behind the counter.” The tattooed man passed her off to the man who’d hit her and joined the other to begin to move the bodies. The sound Mel’s shoes made as they dragged her

over the floor resonated in Anna’s head and she closed her eyes, slumping against the man who laughed as his nails dug into her skin.

Chapter Two Jack was already having a shitty night when he spotted the massacre at the Easy Bake. The daughter of a man who pushed heroin for the club had reported a break in at the shop her family owned, and Ace had sent him to check it out. “It was three men,” Becca said. “I didn’t really get a good look at them.” “They weren’t violent?” “I carried Daddy’s shotgun down the steps with me.” “Why did they target you?” Jack wondered aloud. The shop sold food and wasn’t particularly large or profitable. It

was a front for the drugs the family sold and a way to justify the money they made. Now that things were changing for the Storm Runners, it was time to cut ties with Minute Mart, but Jack wouldn’t let them fend for themselves in downtown Detroit. He’d known Becca since they were both kids and her family raised her right, keeping her out of the worst of the drug shit. She’d looked at the ground then, not willing to meet his eyes. “Dad had a visit recently from a man who wanted money for protection.” “What? Why didn’t you call the club?” Jack placed a hand on her arm. “You’re our friends. We’re still going to look out for you.”

“He didn’t think it was a good idea. Now that Max is gone…” She trailed off, still not looking at him. “I guess he thought it would be better to consider our options. I’m sorry.” Jack nodded. The same shit was going on in his head. Since Max, the founder of the Storm Runners, was killed, nothing made sense. He told Becca to call if anything came up and left without another word. It was cold for a summer night in Detroit and the streets were empty. He drove slowly through downtown, taking his time. He was really just stalling, Jack admitted to himself. He didn’t want to tell Ace, the new president of the Storm Runners Motorcycle Club, what

had happened, what Becca had said. Everything was a clusterfuck and he just didn’t feel like dealing with it. He thought about stopping at a greasy spoon diner for coffee and maybe taking a second look at the waitress who’d served him and cleaned up a wound he’d gotten in a fight a few months before, then rejected the idea. They were probably closed anyway. Besides, driving slow was one thing, but actively stopping was a completely different beast. Ace was having enough problems getting the club under control. He didn’t need Jack creating more. Max would have expected more from his adopted son and Sergeant-at-Arms. He thought about the waitress, a

cupcake of a woman with wavy blonde hair, perky tits and bright blue fuck-me eyes. The week after Max and half the club was slaughtered, Jack had gotten into a knife fight with a low-level dealer downtown. The fucker was holding back information and tried to slice out Jack’s heart when he didn’t like the questions he was being asked. Jack pulled his hunting knife from his boot and dug it into the man’s jugular—quietly thanking the Marine Corps for the training while the man died without time to retaliate— but his arm was bleeding like a stuck pig. He’d been close enough and the Easy Bake had been open, so he’d gone in to use the bathroom. Instead of

screaming and calling the cops, the cupcake had sighed, pushed back his sleeve and gone to get a medical kit. “I’m not gonna ask what happened,” she’d said, swabbing the cut with something that burned like fire. He gritted his teeth against the pain. “Best you don’t,” he’d said. “I am going to recommend you get this to the hospital.” She used some kind of bandaged to hold the wound together. “An infection here could get nasty.” Jack watched her from the corner of his eye, saw the blood staining her hands. His blood. She knelt down to grab something else from the kit and he was struck by just how pretty she was. Nothing like the women who hung

around the club. Fresh, clean. Too pure for the likes of him. Half-formed plans to get her on the back of his bike evaporated. The woman gave him a cup of coffee—on the house—and chatted with him about movies while he gained his equilibrium. No sense in taking off early and crashing, he’d reasoned, staying for an hour more than he needed to just so the pretty waitress with the bubblegum lips could lean on the counter and make small talk with him. The lights at the Easy Bake were still on, even though it was late. As he approached, he saw Axel, Axel’s enforcer Dominic, and a wiry man he recognized as Alvaro, Axel’s younger

brother, enter the building. He sighed and prepared to give them a wide berth. Axel was a piece of shit who hurt women for fun. When the Storm Runners found out what he did behind closed doors, they’d kicked his slick ass out of the club with a warning about what would happen if he ever laid his hands on another woman hard enough to leave bruises. Axel hadn’t ever been patched, but they’d all been embarrassed that a piece of shit like that even made prospect. Then Axel had gone into Detroit and gotten a gang together. Though the Storm Runners and Axel’s gang had an uneasy peace between them, Jack knew the scum had never gotten over the

indignity of being ejected from the club. He may have smiled when they did business together, but he did it with his teeth bared behind his lips. His gang was well placed to help move heroin and guns in the city, but Jack couldn’t fucking stand being around them. Seeing them would be even worse now that Ace had decided to clean up the operation. Jack didn’t feel like getting his hands dirty if they were pissed about the lost income and decided to turn it into a fight. Especially not when it was three-on-one and the cupcake waitress might get caught in the crossfire. They entered without seeing him and he pulled over, cutting off his engine

and pulling out his mobile. He messaged Ace: Axel +2 downtown. Easy Bake. Jack swiped his finger over the screen and dragged up his email, read through a few offers on aftermarket parts and then opened the response from Ace: Don’t engage. Took it well, but not worth the risk. Come home. He flipped the switch on his Harley to engage the engine, then took one last look at the Easy Bake. He was just in time to see Axel’s bulky enforcer blow the head off of a man in a cook’s apron. “Fuck,” he muttered, dialing the police on his phone and reporting the incident. He hadn’t seen the woman who’d helped him in the restaurant,

hoped she was off and not a corpse. Jack hung up the phone after making the report and prepared to leave. Before he could move, Dominic pushed through a pair of swinging doors with the woman held tight in his grip. She struggled against him, but it was like watching a kitten try to fight off a rabid dog. “Fuck,” he said again. Going in to the restaurant was a good way to die, and he wasn’t ready to die today. But the men didn’t shoot her right away, seemed like they were toying with her. He had a chance to save her. He didn’t want to see her die. He cursed again and turned on the bike, steering it into the alley behind the Easy Bake. The solid weight of the

knife in his boot and the gun in his coat were little comfort when faced with three men who were just as heavily armed. He grabbed a stun grenade from the leather bag that hung over the back of the Harley. After he’d come back from overseas, he’d taken to stocking his bags with shit that probably wasn’t legal—but it had been necessary more than once. The metal door at the back of the restaurant was cracked open and swung outward silently when he pushed it. Scents of smoke and greasy food combined to make the kitchen almost unbearable, and Jack barely caught the cough before it erupted from his lips. Axel, Dominic and Alvaro had

their backs to him. The two older men were moving the body of a woman across the floor. Alvaro was holding the blond woman, who struggled against him until he backhanded her and she sagged in his arms. She was still conscious though, which was one bright spot in an otherwise dark train wreck of a situation. Jack waited, peering through the portal window until Axel and Dominic were behind the counter, separated from Alvaro and the woman. He pulled the pin on the flash grenade, said a silent prayer, and tossed it through the door to land in the middle of the three men and the waitress.

You can buy Bolt at Amazon if you’d like to read more.

STRIKE Chapter 1

A

“ re you ready to go on?” Grace turned and stared at Kiki, who’d already done a reach-around to grab Grace’s lipstick off the shaky vanity in front of her. Screwing up the cheap red wax, she pursed her lips and applied a generous layer before pressing them together and throwing it back down. It rolled right off the edge and disappeared

into the dark beneath. “Sorry,” she said, shrugging. The motion made the beads on her dress clack together and Grace thought about reaching out and wiping the lipstick right off her pursed mouth. Instead she sat back in her seat and took a deep breath. “I’m ready,” Grace said, reminding herself to replace the lipstick. There was no way she was going to share anything that went on her mouth with someone she loathed as much as Kiki. It was the third lipstick lost this month. “Good, because Mandi didn’t show up, and Peter wants you out on the stage as soon as Chrissie is done.” “What?” There was nothing she

wanted less than going out before it was her turn. Putting up the barriers that allowed her to strut onto the stage and grin at the crowd took time, and she hadn’t slept well last night as it was. Even after months of working at the Ladies Night, Grace wasn’t used to performing in front of the half-drunk crowd. The yells, lascivious taunts and gropes were half the reason she got to work early, giving herself a chance to prepare internally while she teased her wig and painted her face before walking out into the smoke and lights. “Mandi. Didn’t. Show. Up.” Kiki enunciated each word like Grace was an idiot, her red lips pursed and begging for a fist in the face—but that was standard.

Ever since one of Kiki’s favorite clients had gravitated toward Grace, Kiki had morphed from a power hungry annoyance to a power hungry bitch. It wasn’t unexpected, though. Territory was everything, and it was a lesson Grace took just a second too long to figure out. Not that she could have avoided the men anyway—not when they were the whole reason she walked into the cheap dive every night and poured herself into too-tight outfits that were made to be taken off with a single pull. “Where is she?” “Like I know? She was supposed to be here to relieve Chrissie, and Chris stayed all through the beginning of tonight to cover that moron. She missed

a date. Mandi is probably in bed with that weather guy and can’t be fucked to get up and get her ass in here—or even call in. Who gives a fuck? Just get your shoes on and get ready to go out.” Kiki fancied herself the secondin-command of Ladies Night, though she had no more power than any of the other dancers. Grace raised her eyebrows, then rolled her eyes. It wasn’t worth the fight. “I’m going,” Grace said, pulling out her phone while she slid her feet into the super high pink heels she had to wear on the stage. Dialing Mandi and holding the phone to her ear, she looked in the mirror to make sure the bright blonde hair was perfectly in place. Her call

went straight to voicemail. “This is Mandi! I can’t get to you now, but I might have time later. Leave one!” The bubbly voice that came through the speakers made Grace smile. “Hey, it’s Dakota. You’re not here, so I’m heading out early. Even if you’re going to ditch your shift—and who could blame you?—at least call me and let me know that you’re snuggled up with your hot man. Soon, girl. Love you.” She ended the call and placed the phone in her bag, securing the lock that kept it zipped when she was on stage. She didn’t make enough to replace another phone. Ignoring the spike of fear that shot down her spine when she looked at

the empty vanity where Mandi usually prepared herself, Grace walked toward the stage doors. The last booming lines of the current song came through the heavy, dull velvet curtains. With a deep breath, she waited until the first discordant notes of her song started. Pushing aside the curtains, she grinned and headed for the pole on the center of the stage.

CHAPTER 2

Another wasted night, Tom thought as he ordered a whiskey from the bartender. Of course the brand they had on the shelf was the same stuff his father used to drink at night. Just another reminder of his continued failure to avenge the man who’d given him everything. Like it hadn’t already burned him to ashes. He threw back the liquor, letting the welcome burn in his throat clear his mind a little. He’d already had enough

that the place was blurry at the edges, but it was late enough that it didn’t matter. He’d have to stop if he wanted to take his bike instead of calling for a lift —again. Besides, this shithole would close soon and he’d have to go back to the Storm Runners clubhouse. It was too late to go to the home he’d once shared with his parents and sister—all of whom were out of reach now, in one way or another. So he’d wake up at the clubhouse drunk again after missing his shift at his own damn bar and have Ace on his ass. Again. Fucking great. He didn’t spend his nights at strip clubs and dive bars to watch the

dancers, though he appreciated a nice set of tits as much as the next man. No, while women were dropping clothes on stage, he was scanning the audience. His eyes moved from a group of excited business men to a tired looking suburban dad who’d probably had a fight with his wife and would go home feeling a little more bad ass after his light beer and close encounter with a naked woman. But the one man he was looking for wasn’t here. He’d come close the month before, finding one of Butch’s top lieutenants with his face buried in a woman’s cleavage at the Top Hat. The man was tweaking so hard that he’d missed the punch he’d thrown when Tom

pulled him off the woman and screamed when his knuckles made contact with the wall. Tom just rolled his eyes and smashed his fist into the man’s face until he was too dazed to fight back, then dragged him out of the club and questioned him in the alley until he couldn’t get another answer from the man. Another waste of time. Fuck sobriety. He’d walk off the booze and see what he could find out on the streets. With a finger, he signaled for another drink. Finished it. Threw $50 down on the counter and headed for the door. This place wasn’t going to do anything for him tonight.

Then the music changed. The tune drew his attention to the stage lit with bright lights in shades of white, pink and purple. And Tom saw her. Something about her face was arresting, like it didn’t belong here with the laughing men and bubbly women who moved from group to group. Her eyes, especially, raised her above the rest of the people in the Ladies Night— they were like simmered gold, clear and free of any drugs or other substances— something he rarely saw in places like this. She was beautiful, but that wasn’t the only reason he stared. Her hands seems to shake for a moment when

she raised them to her vest. She drew in a hard breath, then her hands went rock steady as they worked down the line of buttons, revealing smooth skin with each motion. It was mesmerizing. Her hands. Her face. He slid into a chair instead of walking out of the club and froze when she turned and met his eyes. They locked and it was like the lights went brighter and the music dulled. The whiskey in his stomach was suddenly warmer, so heated he could feel it in his chest. Something shook in him while he stared into her deep, unblinking eyes. Then she closed them, breaking the connection and everything came rushing back. The wave of sound and the

press of the crowd was near overwhelming. He stood up, deciding to get out before the bars closed and check a few more while he let the liquor work its way out of his system, but as he turned he heard a commotion and jerked his gaze to the left. A man in a rumpled suit extended his arms over the edge of the stage and grabbed hold of the dancer’s leg, jerking her toward the edge of the stage and making her lose her balance. From across the room, Tom could see the white stress marks around where his fingers bit into her skin. His friends laughed around him, egging him on as the girl grabbed the pole and tried to cling onto it. She kicked out with her free foot

as Tom pushed through the crowd, and would have made contact if her heel hadn’t slipped sideways on her foot. “Get the fuck off her.” He grabbed the man by the collar, yanked him back and gave him a short punch in the face. Then another. The man’s grip on the dancer slackened before he hit the ground. When his friends moved to defend him—a group of drunk, aged frat boys who didn’t stand a chance—Tom raised his eyebrows and turned the bulk of his body toward them. Like deer facing a rabid wolf, they knew they had no chance of winning and chose retreat. They gathered their friend and left the club. One of the bouncers who’d

been only steps behind Tom showed them the way, nodding a thank you to Tom as he passed. “Are you okay?” he asked the girl, who tightened the laces that wound up her exquisite legs, securing the heel back on her foot. “Thanks to you,” she said, her generous lips curving in a smile. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” He offered her a hand and helped her to her feet. “I should finish the song,” she said, looking toward the bar at what he assumed was her boss, “but I think I’m done for the night.” Her eyes met his again and he felt that same sideways lurch in his stomach.

“Understandable,” he said. “Thanks for saving me,” she said again, and her voice was still breathy. It made him think of soft sheets and dark nights. Something more than a quick giggle and fuck with a sweet butt. Things he suddenly wanted for the first time since he found out what happened to his father. The shock was like cold water being dumped over his head, and he drew back. “Anytime,” he said with a casual tone he didn’t feel. Then he forced himself to turn away from her and let her walk back over the stage and through the curtains at the back. But though his eyes strayed to the door, there was another hour left

before the place closed and he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave. To read more, buy STRIKE on Amazon.

BLACKLISTED OPERATIONS Prologue Russia The screams of the crowd filled his ears while he circled his opponent, ready to knock his ass out. Rage dodged a meaty fist and then pulled himself upright, making sure to stay light on his feet. Out-maneuvering the competition was how he’d made it to Moscow in the first place. Without his quick feet and fast hands, he’d have gotten stuck in Chicago or Iran and never

made it to the big time. Four years of turning his back on everything and everyone he loved, and it was almost worth it. He could taste victory through the tang of the sweat and copper blood that misted over his face when he cracked his opponent’s nose to the side. The crunch had been loud enough to hear over the crowd, even when they’d surged forward to get a better look at the carnage. But the ox hadn’t gone down. He’d circled Rage, his eyes darting in search of a weak spot. A place where he could really make him hurt. Rage wasn’t worried about that. This match was already won, even if his opponent didn’t have the sense to lay

down and tap out yet. The bout had gone on long enough though. When the larger man rushed him, intent on taking Rage down, he sidestepped. The man recovered, came at him with a haymaker. Damn impressive footwork, but it still wasn’t enough. He didn’t know that Rage was straight sprawl and brawl. Rage attacked his sweating opponent, delivering a knockout. The crowd wailed with satisfaction when the mountain of a man spun around and then hit the ground, blood leaking from his lips and nose. He looked down at his opponent and pushed the hair out of his own face. His body was covered with purple and

blue bruises from bouts earlier that day, but he didn’t feel them. While someone shoved a robe into one hand and another guy pumped his other fist in congratulations, Rage looked up to the top of the soaring arena, intent on finding the man he was here to kill. Bartek sat in a private box with three guards around him. He was separated from the fighters by thick bulletproof glass. His lips quirked in a smile as he nodded to Rage, satisfied with the outcome of the match. Two more hours, and Rage would be in that box—there was just one more man standing between him and the Russian. The announcer spoke to the

crowd and declared an hour intermission. Rage and his next opponent —Bick, whose teeth were sharpened to points—would rest before facing each other. The next fight was to the death. Finally, finally, Rage would be able to get close enough to Bartek to take the man’s life. “Aidan?” The voice that came through the phone was not unexpected, but it was unwelcome. “What do you want, boss?” Aidan wiped the other man’s blood from his face and held the phone between his shoulder and his ear. There was little time left before the final match, and he didn’t have time to hear about the

problems that his boss wanted to discuss. “Dima’s in danger.” “What do you mean?” The man Aidan’s boss spoke of worked in a lab outside of Moscow. “He found a way to,” the phone crackled and he couldn’t hear what his boss had said. “What?” “Dima found a cure. But he said there’s someone following him. He’s trying to get to you, to give you the paperwork. He doesn’t have a damn Internet connection.” “Tell him I’m at the arena. There’s only the championship match left now—and Bartek. Just make sure he

waits til the fight is over.” “Aidan, there’s no time for that. If someone really is following him, they could get the only copy of the cure for the Synthesis virus. Damn it!” “What do you want me to do?” “Go to him. He’s by the canals. Find him. Keep him safe if you can. Get the cure no matter what you do. That’s our top priority.” “Fuck you,” Aidan said, crisp and final. “I can’t leave now. I’m less than an hour away from finally getting to Bartek.” “Is your vendetta worth the lives of millions?” His boss’s clipped tone broke through the anger that swelled in his veins. “Millions. That’s how many

people will die if Synthesis gets loose without a cure.” “Fuck,” Aidan said again. “You can’t be Rage right now,” his boss said, conciliatory. “You have to do what you were trained to do.” Aidan slammed his fist into the wall and tore the already-abused skin. “I’ll never get this chance again if I walk away.” “I’ll help you get to Bartek, Aidan. I swear, I will. But right now, this isn’t about you.” “I’m on my way.” Aidan closed the phone with a snap and left the room. If he hurried, he could get to Dima and make it back to take down his opponent. He didn’t have to lose everything over

this. The night was cold and cloudy. The moon barely broke through the clouds, but the streetlights lit the way well enough. Aidan ran, cutting through traffic without a care for his own safety, determined to get to Dima and get back to the fight before it was lost to him. He approached the canals, his eyes scanning them for the man he was tasked to retrieve. At first, there was nothing. Then the moon broke through the clouds and he saw the body in the dirt next to the glittering water. “Fuck,” he cursed, assessing the area for potential threats. No one was there. Aidan slid down the hill to Dima and checked for a pulse. Nothing. His

body was still warm, but he was gone. The papers that he’d been carrying were gone, too. Buried in his chest was a dagger. Aidan wrapped his jacket around his hand and pulled it out, examining it. It wasn’t familiar to him, but his boss might have a better idea about who used flashy black hunting knives with a mother-of-pearl inlay on the handle. Part of him mourned for Dima, but there was nothing he could do. Aidan ran back through the cold night, desperate to reach the arena in time. He stepped through the doors just in time to hear the announcer scream out that the match was forfeit and Bick was the new champion.

Everything in him went hot, then cold. His hand clenched on the bloody knife wrapped in the jacket. Whoever killed Dima didn’t only assassinate a good man and steal something that was desperately needed to keep people safe —they took away the one goal that had driven Aidan for years. The one thing he’d given up everything else for. Killing Bartek. The man who killed his sister. Aidan threw back his head and screamed until his throat was raw. Then he took a picture of the knife, sent it to his boss and waited for further instructions.

Chapter One United Arab Emirates If she’d known what was going to happen, Sophie would have never ordered the second strawberry margarita. Maybe she’d have nixed the first one, too, and ordered straight vodka instead. Cotton whispered over her skin when she crossed her legs, turning sideways on the barstool to watch the elegant men and women swarm out of the restaurant, into the lobby and then push through the heavy glass doors into the salty sea air. The heat of the day

would end with sweat stains on some of the heavy wool business suits the men wore, Sophie was sure, but she couldn’t afford to worry about the state of others’ clothes. She missed France. Everyone smoked in France and short black skirts were de rigueur. One of the men in the lobby reminded her of the Parisian man she’d left when the job at a university in Rome opened up. They’d danced until three in the morning on weekends; he’d spin her in circles while her skirts flared around her knees and made her feel carefree, young. Sophie had left him, of course, the way she left everyone at the merest hint of something better. But she missed

that man and wondered where he was while she was sitting in a hotel bar in Dubai, wearily considering another drink. Her best friend Adele had recommended the strawberry margarita with pink-tinged lips at two in the morning the night before, stumbling in over her heels and grinning sheepishly at Sophie when she crashed into a lamp and woke her friend up. She’d been right. The first one was good—sweet and with just enough tequila to make it bite. Sophie raised her hand again, trying to capture the bartender’s attention. He was flirting with two tan women with sun-kissed hair and silk

dresses. Mentally, Sophie tallied the money she’d need to furnish the small apartment she’d found in Rome. It was walking distance to Via del Corso, so she knew she’d have to budget for that too. Teaching paid the bills, but it didn’t keep her in couture and, oh, how she loved a perfect hem or neckline. She could get around that, of course, but she preferred not to touch her family’s money. Pulling her thoughts away from peep toes and handbags, she turned to the woman who had materialized beside her without a sound, sliding onto the barstool like a ghost. Adele lifted a finger and cleared her throat, causing the bartender to turn away from the two

women and immediately cross to them. “What would you like?” “A martini, please. Straight up, two onions and don’t bruise the gin.” Adele lifted Sophie’s heavy crystal glass and looked at the dregs of clumped sugar at its base. “Get another for her, too.” “It’s on the house,” he said, his face going ruddy as he realized he’d been remiss in serving a customer. He hurried to the wall of liquors and started making their drinks, reaching for the topshelf liquor without being asked. Adele, Sophie thought, always got top-shelf. Her rich voice was pure sex, hot, sweet and inviting. For years, they’d been partners in crime, as well as comrades in the halls of academia, and it

still amused Sophie to see men jump when her svelte friend flipped her ruby hair over her pale shoulders. She loved Adele, and not just because she was as willing to move as quickly between cities as Sophie was. Sophie loved her because she wore four-inch heels to teach, because she kept tea she never drank in her cupboards for Sophie and because she organized Christmas parties every year for the ex-pats who couldn’t go home to their families. After a disastrous year of lecturing in Paris, they’d earned their vacation in Dubai. Too quickly, Sophie had realized that the boutique school they’d selected was populated by

students who were more interested in parties than paintings. It was all rush now—rush and texture. One student had even run her fingers down the bumpy canvas of a painting at an art showing until two security guards has escorted her off the premises. After that, Sophie had decided to never organize another class trip to a gallery. “Are you okay?” Adele asked, leaning in and placing a hand on Sophie’s leg. “You seem out of it.” “I’m fine,” Sophie said, forcing her mouth into a smile. It wasn’t fooling either woman, but it was enough to avoid a conversation that neither wanted to have.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Adele withdrew her hand and looked into the lobby at a group of men who had just arrived downstairs, poking each other in the ribs, baseball caps pushed down over their sloppy hair. “Dinner? Dancing? We could just hang out and have a girls’ night.” “No,” said Sophie. “I’m going to stay in again tonight—without the added bonus of you laughing while I cry at a movie. I’m thinking shower, soup and sleep, the three most important swords.” “I think you’re forgetting one.” “Only if I’m living by your standards,” Sophie replied with a grin. Adele sat back and glanced at the

men in the lobby again. “Soph, you know I have very. High. Standards. Except when I’m on vacation. You sure you don’t want company? They look like they might be fun. American, I think.” “We’re American, pretentious.” “No, we’re ex-pats. Do you even pay taxes there anymore?” “I don’t make enough,” Sophie said. “Seriously, though, go out with them. It’s a good idea and you’ll have fun. Tonight’s just a bad night for me.” “That’s why I’m not keen on leaving you alone.” “Tomorrow we’ll do a whole spa day. Mud masks. Salt baths. Food with so few calories that we immediately disappear when we eat it.”

“I don’t mind just ordering room service and hanging out here.” “Go out, Adele. You’ll have a good time and if they’re cool, maybe I’ll come out tomorrow.” She wrapped her arm around her best friend, relaxing against her as the bartender dropped off the drinks they’d ordered and left without a word. “I can’t leave knowing you’ll end up sitting alone in the dark.” Sophie sighed, running a hand over her long, blonde ponytail and smoothing out the frizz that had erupted after she’d come in from the heat. She picked up her drink and took a long sip, not surprised that it was better than the first she’d ordered. “I won’t,” she

promised. “I’m so tired that it’s almost ridiculous at this point. Pulling off week-long dance marathons like we did five years ago just isn’t happening anymore.” “What will you do?” “Eat some food, watch a little TV and pass out. Vacation stuff.” Adele narrowed her eyes, but nodded. She took a single swallow of her martini, slid off the barstool and wrapped her arms around Sophie. “I’m going to catch up with those guys. Introduce myself. You’ve got my cell number, so call me if you need or want anything. I’d rather be with you anyway.” Sophie nodded, then turned to

watch Adele saunter into the lobby and catch up with the men by the door. Their friendly faces turned appreciative and they easily accepted the woman into their group, ushering her through the main doors with smiles. Sophie turned back and finished her drink. Almost immediately, the bartender set another in front of her. “Are you from around here?” The line would have been tired from anyone, but from a hotel bartender it was downright stupid. Sophie didn’t want to hear any pickup lines. She especially didn’t want to hear one meant for her best and only friend. “No, we’re moving to Rome next week,” she said, running a finger along

the sugared rim of the glass and then touching it to her mouth. “This is just a pit stop.” His eyes dimmed, and she softened. “She’d just break your heart anyway. Please put the drinks on my tab.” “I said they were on the house,” he said, and smiled. Once upon a time she might have smiled back, invited him to come to her room or to dinner. But things were different now. So she nodded, took one last sip of the drink, and then headed for the elevators, ready for the long ride up to her room. Aidan watched the blonde woman from his booth in the back of the bar, flexing his hands to keep them from

stiffening where the knuckles were swollen. He hated to do a job when he wasn’t at his best, especially a dangerous one. Usually the weakness wouldn’t worry him. But this was Veronica. A guy didn’t capture the prime bitch of The Hellenic Agency with busted knuckles. He kept his eyes on the mirror behind the bar, watching the girl flirt with the bartender after her friend left. Veronica was beautiful, he thought, Porsche 911 sexy with curvy hips and high, taut breasts. Even as he’d cursed himself for it, he’d watched with appreciation as they pressed against the front of her t-shirt earlier that day on the beach. Now, in a blue sundress, she was

radiant. A cool drink of water in the dusty heat of the desert. She was sexier than he remembered, but it could have been the fake veil of innocence that surrounded her as she sat alone in the bar. Veronica looked tiny and lost, two words he’d never have thought to associate with her. Women like Ronnie, in his experience, used sex as a weapon. They bartered ten minutes of access to their wet, warm pussy for information that could get a man killed. Aidan had never yet met a woman who was worth it. He took a long swallow of his Coke. It was watery and too sweet, but it helped clear the lump that had gathered as he watched Veronica laugh and smile

at her redheaded friend. The steak on the table went untouched. Aidan wasn’t hungry. He just wanted the booth. When Veronica pushed back her drink and crossed to the elevators, he finished his Coke and waited until the doors had slid silently closed in front of her face. He dropped a few bills on the table and left as quickly as he’d entered. The opulence of the hotel made no impression on him, nor had it at the moment he first entered. The thick, colorful carpets, sparkling fountains and curved balconies that lined the interior of the place were just the trappings of wealth, which he’d had long enough that it no longer mattered. It was just another place where Aidan had been dispatched

to do work that needed to be done. Reaching the bank of elevators, he pressed a button and stepped in. Aidan reached out and hit 26, then stood with his arms crossed while the box rose. He’d never killed a woman before and he wasn’t looking forward to it now. But no matter his personal preferences, Veronica would die and he would be the one to kill her. If you’d like to read more, you can buy Blacklisted on Amazon.

KEEPING YOU One “That son of a bitch,” my best friend Sarah shouted into the phone and I could almost hear her pulling her long blonde hair between her restless fingers. “I can’t believe he dumped you like that. You should have told me sooner, Ellie.” “I know.” I closed my eyes and willed myself not to let anymore tears escape. I’d already cried enough over that bastard and red eyes weren’t a look I was willing to wear to work. Jeremy

Wright was a low-down, scum-sucking cheating piece of garbage and I never wanted to see him again as long as I lived. Except that every time I closed my eyes I saw the cruel little smile he got when he said it was over. I should have ripped his face off. “But I can’t avoid him, Sarah. If I’m not ready for the presentation next week, then I’m not going to get the funding to start working on a new project. That means his team will get the money. The lab. And I’ll get kicked down to archives.” Jeremy and I were both pharmacology researchers who were developing a new drug. Three years of

research and the key was so simple that we’d overlooked it the whole time. The active ingredient was based on the insect that acted as a vector for Chagas disease —we’d figured it out during a camping trip when I started reading a book on etymology to pass the time while Jeremy fished. The pill was designed to minimize infections when taken early after a surgery or injury. I believed that a liquid version could be developed to slow bleeding and prevent clots as well. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the sexist thing in the world—it was sure no little blue pill—but it was going to make Veixel, Inc a lot of money. A lot. I remembered the day I’d heard about my raise—and then realized how

much I’d lost all in the same breath. “Don’t worry, Eleanor.” My boss sat back in his chair, studying me with his fingers templed together on his desk. “Now that we’re getting permission to go forward with the trials, we aren’t going to forget your input. I’m happy to tell you to expect a raise in your next check.” Given that I’d designed, developed and conceived of the idea for the treatment, I wasn’t surprised. Jeremy had looked over at me sheepishly. He’d been giving status reports to Ron for months, letting me hang back and do my work in the lab. “When Jeremy first told us how he found a new use for the vector, I was impressed. Watching you help him mold

it into a complete project has been a real treat.” I slowly turned my head to look at Jeremy. He flushed. Huge red blotches dotted his cheeks and he looked down at his knees, then back at me, silently imploring me not to tell. I gritted my teeth, but I kept my mouth closed. We were a team after all, even if I was the one who did most of the real work. And I loved the stupid man. There would be other accolades, and if it meant that much to him…I’d let him have this one. Even if it rankled. Except that three weeks later, he’d talked me into a quick fuck on the sofa and then dumped me before he’d even pulled out. Goodbye, so long, we’re done. He had another woman and

didn’t want to let us play out anymore. Then, as his coup de grace, he fired me from his research team. My research team. And I was directed to head up another group. I’d slapped him across the face, pulled on my clothes and stormed out. I still didn’t go to Ron and tell him the truth about who really developed the project though. To admit that I’d been stupid enough to let him claim credit for my work really made my skin sizzle, and I knew it would hurt my chances for advancement. “Ellie, are you there?” Sarah’s voice poured through the receiver, filled with concern. I could hear the sounds of people talking and the clink of glasses in

the background. “Sorry.” I took a bite of the éclair I’d picked up at the bakery on the way home and closed my eyes as the flavors exploded on my tongue. Fuck men. I was going to commit to chocolate. At least it wouldn’t take credit for my triumphs. “Ellie? I asked when he’s going to be over.” Jeremy was stopping by tonight to pick up the last of his things. It wasn’t much—just some t-shirts and a toothbrush, which I’d offered to drop by his new office—but he insisted. So instead of spending time with my friends, drinking margaritas and forgetting him with each quick burn of tequila on my tongue, I was stuck sitting

here, waiting. He was ten minutes late. “Who knows? I should have just left the box out on the porch. No one would be dumb enough to take his ratty music festival relics anyway.” “True that,” she said. “Do you want me to come over?” “No, definitely not. Go back to your date—I’d never have poured this out on you if I’d realized you were out. I’ll deal with him alone. Just have fun.” Sarah had recently been skipping from man to man on a dating site she’d joined. Maybe that’s what I needed—some no strings, just for fun dates with a guy. “Fine,” she said. “But call if you need me. Love you.”

“I love you too,” I said. “Goodnight.” Once I’d terminated the call, I took another éclair from the box and ate it, watching the clock. Each second that passed made me angrier, ready for a fight I couldn’t possibly win. Finally, two hours after he was supposed to be there, Jeremy knocked on the door. I opened it and he stepped into the foyer. His hair was mussed and his collar was open; it was obvious he’d been with the intern he was dating now, but I didn’t say anything. Jeremy was a master of appearances, and he’d shown up looking exactly how he wanted to. Oddly, the evidence that he’d been with another woman didn’t make me feel bad. It kind of helped. Seeing the

shell of the person I thought I’d known made some of that anger drain away. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, reaching for my hands. “I got held up at work.” Had he always been such an obvious liar? I stepped back to avoid his reach and gestured for him to follow me down the hall. In the kitchen, I picked up the cardboard box and handed it to him. His eyes traveled from the large bay windows to the black marble counters and then to the statue of a turtle I’d placed in the middle of the table. “That turtle,” he said, pointing at it. I smiled. “I pulled it back out once you were gone. You won’t have to look at it

anymore.” “It would be nice to be friends, Ellie,” he said. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” “I’m sure you didn’t.” I smiled at him, pushing my long, dark hair out of my eyes. “But I’m not going to stand here and pretend to want to continue knowing you. You took credit for my work; why would I want to be around the kind of person who would do that?” “It just happened,” he said lamely. “Sure it did. How much money are you going to make off the bonus?” “A lot,” he said, looking down into the box. “Look, if you do me a favor and help me finish the presentation, I’ll

share it with you. I’ll give you ten percent.” I raised my eyebrows and stared at him until he cleared his throat. “Fine,” he said. “Twenty.” “I did most of the work that needed to be done before you kicked me off the team. What else could you possibly need to be ready?” The handouts, presentation and speech were all written. “I need a live sample insect to show off.” “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s a bunch of suit-wearing executives, not a show-and-tell in kindergarten. Just show them one of the photos we took.”

His mouth tightened, but he didn’t argue. “Whatever, Ellie. If you want the money, bring me a sample before tomorrow’s meeting.” I stewed internally, but kept my face calm. On one hand, the bug that we’d used for the research wasn’t hard to catch, and honestly, the money would go a long way toward helping me tackle those final student loans that still haunted me. On the other hand, the idea of doing any favors for the man who’d dumped me rankled. “Fine,” I said at length, my desire for money winning out over my desire to thwart Jeremy. “I’ll have it with me in the morning. I’d better get going if I’m gonna drive all the way out

to Green Lake State Park tonight.” “I have a trapping kit in the car,” he said. “I was planning to go myself, but I’d rather have the evening free for— um—research.” A sly grin curled up the corners of his lips. Son of a bitch. “Put it in the back of my car and go.” I turned away and looked through the large windows over the sink into the forest behind my home. The sun had set completely and the deep dark that surrounded my house grew even blacker under the trees. The idea of going into the state park at night made me nervous, but the money would be good. Navigating the winding roads and steep trails was worth it. “I’ll miss you,” Jeremy said

quietly. I didn’t respond—he’d dumped me. I didn’t want to hear anything about how he felt. Finally I heard his footsteps leave the kitchen. A moment later, the front door slammed behind him. I went to find a pair of jeans, a tank top, a sweater and my hiking boots. It was time to get out and turn over a few stones.

The full moon was high in the sky as I pulled through the gates that stood at the entrance to Green Lake State Park. They were more elaborate than most other parks, made of twisted pikes or iron. Luckily, no one had pulled the

gates closed, so I was able to drive into the woods, instead of having to hike all the way in like I feared. The insects we used for our research liked water and tended to live near flowing streams or under rocks at higher altitude. I could park by the trailhead and hike up to our old camping spot. Jeremy and I had been here together at the beginning of our project, trapping bugs to use while we waited for the research samples to arrive. Back then, I’d loved him madly. He’d spontaneously make up poetry, wrap his arms around me and tell me that I was his inspiration. A year into our relationship, I’d seen his browsing history and realized he was taking other

people’s poems and presenting them as his own. By then, though, I’d seen his other good qualities and figured at least he was trying. Sarah always said I had a yen for men who needed to be fixed. I should have left him, but the relationship felt safe. I didn’t have parents or anyone, really, except Sarah. Jeremy was a good research partner and my project, the drug, was more important than his temper or silent sulking. A pang of loss ripped through me at the thought of my research going through testing under him instead of me. Of course, if my biggest regret was losing my own project, then I hadn’t lost that much in the relationship to begin

with, I mused as the minutes ticked by. Putting my ex out of my head, I took a long sip of the coffee with caramel creamer I’d brought along. It was going to be a long night and I needed a caffeine buzz to stay with it. The upper parking lot near the trailhead was completely deserted. I pressed my foot on the brake to turn off the road and move into it. Instead of pushing in gently, the pedal slammed straight to the floor. I gasped, my hands going wet and gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. The car accelerated, heading downhill toward an s-curve and I screamed, forcing one clenched hand off the wheel so I could pull the emergency brake.

It didn’t catch. My trusty sedan steered straight into a tree, coming to a jarring halt. My vision went fuzzy. Before I slipped into unconsciousness, the scent of gas teased my nostrils.

I wanted to get out of bed, but couldn’t. Someone had trapped me in the covers. My face was under them, too, and I couldn’t breathe. Hot, stagnant wind filled my nose and I choked, breathing in dust. Why was there dust in my bed? What? Forcing my eyes open, I saw

white. Just white. Then, at the corner of my eye, a flicker of flames. I couldn’t see straight, felt blood dripping from my scalp and down into my mouth where it pooled, thick and coppery. I gagged, pulling back and reaching out with my hands to push the air bag from my face while I spit out my blood. The engine was on fire. Flames and smoke rose into the air, choking me as they blew through the open window. Pushing open the door with one hand, I reached for my seatbelt with the other, but it wouldn’t come loose. Oh god, oh god, oh god. It must have gotten jammed in the wreck, I realized. It had tightened, trapping me against the seat. It was too

hot. Panic roared through me as I fought with my seatbelt, my slippery hands unable to get purchase. When I tried to wiggle out of the seatbelt, it only locked tighter. I was going to die only inches from my open car door and freedom. A low growl made me turn my head. A gray wolf stood watching me, his fur gleaming in the light of the flames. He cocked his head to the side. Too hot. My head swam and my eyelids drifted. Keeping them open was an enormous effort, so I let them drift closed—just for a minute. Another growl—this one close to my ear—forced my eyes open and I gazed through them blearily to see the wolf standing with his paws in my lap. I

was too far gone to be scared, just regarded him with dull eyes as he lowered his mouth to the belt trapping me to the seat. He chewed at it, tugging until it loosened, then went to work on the top strap. My body slumped forward as it was freed and I tried to crawl out of the car after he moved back, away from the flames. I was too weak. Could only slump against the bloody airbag. He whined and came back, taking hold of my belt and pulling me from the car. My body hit the ground hard, rocks and dirt cutting into my arms. The wolf kept tugging, yanking me back through the trees and toward the lake. Once we’d gotten close to the sandy

beach surrounding it, my car erupted in flames and twisted metal. The sound of the explosion hurt my ears, and I clapped my hands over them to ward off the sound. Lying there, curled up on the beach, I watched bits of flame and sparks light up the sky like fireworks, then lost consciousness. If you’d like to read more, you can buy Keeping You on Amazon.

COMING SOON: HUNTED CHAPTER 1 Elizabeth

E

“ xcuse me.” My eyebrows wing up as I push past a skinny, leering man in a jean jacket. Despite his slender form, he’s managed to take up the entire doorway between the main bar and the VIP areas, gesturing wildly to a group of

people, none of whom look interested in what he has to say. Just another pack waiting to get back to where I need to be. “Sorry, bit--.” He cuts off when he turns to look at me. His eyes travel up and down my body, taking in every curve that my dress puts on display. When his tongue darts out to lick his lips like a serpent, I hide a cringe and instead look down my nose at him as best I can, given that I’m six inches shorter. “Sorry.” He says, leaving off the expletive this time. The height of courtesy in a place like this, I guess. He’s still looking at my breasts, which I know are ludicrous in the dress my

roommate spent the week nipping and tucking until it highlighted everything I have to offer. I don’t belong here. Trying to push past him, I bump into him and his lips twist in a feral grin. “Didn’t know you liked me that much.” That’s all I can take. I hate him to begin with, even if he doesn’t recognize me and I don’t know his name. So I raise my hands and shove his chest—hard. “Hey,” he snaps and I see his hands tense. If I start a fight here, I might lose what I came for before I even get into the next room to talk to someone connected enough to get me two new identities. But I can’t show weakness, so

I don’t back down or scurry away. Instead I just look at him. “Get over here.” I turn at the sound of the deep voice that carries over the crowd and follow the scummy man’s gaze to the tall drink of handsome standing behind the velvet rope that’s keeping me from where I need to be. Even under the heavy jacket and dark jeans, his body is rippling with muscle. The end swirls of a tattoo peek out from under a cuff and I have a crazy impulse to strip off his coat and see what else he’s hiding under those clothes. Bad timing, Liz. If he’s even tangentially

connected to the Kuznetsovs, then he might be able to offer me the new documents I need without me having to go higher up the chain. The lower level the person I work with, the better. It’s all about minimizing risk. My hands are shaking and they’re so cold it almost hurts. I curl them into my palms to try to warm them while I watch the loser who pushed me in his haste to toady to the big, tattooed man but I keep my head straight and I focus on him. He’s looking past the loser and right at me. The heat of his gaze warms my exposed skin and slowly—very slowly—I let my hands relax. Music booms from the speakers

overhead, so loud that I feel it deep in my bones. It’s not even fall yet, but between the music and the air conditioning in the club, I’m shivering. It was a lean week and my roommate and I subsisted on ramen and peanut butter— buying a drink here is going to be my splurge, only justifiable because it gets me closer to our one goal. If I play my cards right, we could be out of LA by next week. I could go to college. I wrap the hopes tight around me like a cloak and pretend I’m braver than I really am. Mom used to tell me that if you kept your head high and left an amused smile on your lips, no one would

see how scared you really are. I think of her as I move forward, closer to the man who’s still studying me. I don’t ask myself how far I’d be willing to go to get the documents I need. I’m here, but I haven’t reached the finished line. In the room behind the velvet rope, I know Dimitri and Rejnov are laughing and drinking high above the crowd, probably with a cavalcade of beautiful women. It’s simple—I can have no direct contact with them—I’m nobody and they’d chew me up and spit me out if it pushed them up even one rung higher on the ladder. But like any crime family, there are plenty of hangers on clinging to their wake with dirty,

blood drenched fingers and if I know anything about the Kuznetsov family, it’s that they’re always looking to make a little cash. Besides, I’m desperate. That desperation spurs me forward, trying to get past the crowd trying to get into the VIP area. Everyone wants something—and you’re not going to get it in the front of this place. But the man is turning away with the jerk who shoved me, and for a minute I don’t think I’m going to get what I hoped. We got my outfit and makeup right, but there are a hundred girls better looking than me here and whether or not I get back there on looks alone is a crap

shoot. I don’t have time to come in here every night hoping to be chosen. Hope surges when the beautiful man pauses and turns, coming back toward the area where the plebes meet the wealthy and well-connected. He’s coming for me. A shiver of arousal mixes with the fear and nerves I’m running on and suddenly the cold is blasted back by pure heat. His eyes are melted glacier water and I want to get closer, to see them up close without the colored lights of the club beaming between us. So cold, but so beautiful. “Did you want to come in here?”

“Yes.” I want to say more, but his voice is pure, smooth silk and it’s all I can do not to beg him to let me through —or take me somewhere else. The reaction is completely unlike me, but something about him has me trembling for his hands on my skin. “Stop making hot girls wait to get in,” he says, and at least three girls turn to me with jealous glares that would eat right through my skin if I let them. The bouncer nods—this guy has some kind of pull—and pulls the rope again, letting me through. “Thank you,” I say and he looks over his shoulder at the man he pulled in before me.

“I want to talk to you.” He can’t know that I’m here looking for favors— but maybe that’s everyone that steps through the door. Nevertheless, he’s someone I can start with. Someone who might be able to point me in the right direction, if he can’t do the job himself. “I want to talk to you too.” I need to talk to you. Desperately. “I’ll be right back.” He walks away and the oddest sense of loss comes over me as the sound of the club washes back in, full blast. When he reaches the man, he cuffs him hard and leads him up the stairs. As he approaches the Kuznetsovs, I wait to see how they react to him.

He stops at their table, almost throws the man into the cushioned booth, and sits down. For a moment I wonder whether he’s too close to the center of their operation for comfort. I know they won’t recognize me—I’ve grown up since the one time I was in the same room as Dimitri and I doubt he noticed me when I was a 13-year-old girl who was all knees and elbows. I move to the bar and order my drink, then swirl the glass stirrer around in the pale liquid once the bartender sets it in front of me. When I look up again, the beautiful man with the Kuznetsovs is deep in conversation.

I wonder what they’re talking about. “Hey.” A man slides onto the barstool next to me. “Can I buy you a drink?” “Have one.” I hold up my drink and take the merest sip. It needs to last until the gorgeous bruiser comes back here to talk to me. “The next one, then.” “This is it.” I have no real desire to talk to someone who chooses to spend their time here, but turning to face him gives me a better view of the room without making it obvious that I’m watching. If the man leaves, I’ll have to figure out who else can set me on the

right path—and I want to know as soon as it happens. No time like the present. A funny motto for a woman who spent the last five years waiting—hoping anything would change. Nothing did. So I’m here. “Do you dance?” He sucks down half his drink in one gulp, and though I dance well enough to not embarrass either of us, I have no intention of going out on the dance floor with him. “Not tonight.” He asks me whether I come here often and I mutter a negative answer at the cliché. “So what do you do?” “Factory work,” I tell him.

Thinking of work makes the ache in my feet and the soreness at the small of my back more pressing, like it’s reminding me I have to be up at 5 in the morning and it’s approaching midnight. I don’t need sleep, though. If I can just get these papers, I can be away from my terrible job. I look for the man again. Still at the table. Now he’s leaning toward the skinny guy, as are the brothers. It doesn’t look like he remembers I exist. The strange man and I talk about our jobs for awhile and I lose myself in the steady flow of conversation with an adult man. Most of the people I work

with are women, my roommate and best friend is a woman and I’d just as soon avoid exchanging words with my male boss. The guy sitting next to me isn’t offensive or rude—he’s just chatty and increasingly drunk with every finger he lifts in the bartender’s direction. I refuse every drink he offers me. The cold from the air conditioner is eating away at me again and I desperately want a steak. Slathered in butter. “Do you want to get out of here?” He reaches out and puts his hand on my knee and I feel my eyes widen at the touch on my bare skin. Before I can rebuff him, another hand comes out and

wraps around his wrist. “She’s with me.” It’s all he has to say. The man’s eyes go wide as saucers. “Fuck, Bastian. I had no idea. You know I wouldn’t try to move in on you.” The man—Bastian—nods and lets go. Babbling apologies, the other man takes his drink and moves quickly across the room, not looking back. “You sure scared him.” “Did you want to leave with him?” I shake my head no and take a deep breath, preparing myself to ask for what I desperately need. His face changes as he looks at

me and before I can speak, he says “I think you’re in the wrong place.” I can’t afford to get ejected now. Finding out where the Kuznetsovs spend time was hard enough—it took me days of tracking junkies leaving my stepfather’s business to finally find out who zeroed in on the next biggest game in town “I’m not,” I tell him. My words must fire the starting pistol for him, because his eyes gleam with hunger and I have a feeling I’m going to be his next meal.

CHAPTER 2 Sebastian

If Jimmy keeps trying to talk to Roman or Dimitri, I’m going to put a bullet in his brain. The thought comforts me. Despite the distance between my table and the room at the front of the restricted section, I still have to hear that bottom dwelling cocksucker talk about his exploits—like any of that shit is real. But people eat it up and if he doesn’t watch his mouth, he’s going to say too

much and I’m going to end the day cleaning my gun instead of fucking the redhead who’s been licking her way up my neck for the past 20 minutes. “Why is he here again?” Dimitri rolls his eyes and takes another sip of beer, reclining back in the booth while the blonde on his arm slides her hand under the table not so stealthily. He pushes her back and I can almost see the frustration rolling off her—like she thinks a quick rub off is going to get her a white dress and a trip down the aisle. “He wants protection from the Corvis.” I smirk at Jimmy as he weaves and bobs, trying to catch my eye. “I do not think Roman is interested in

extending it.” “Not unless he can give us something in return. There’s enough shit spraying in the air already.” Rejnov and Dimitri can speak for their father in most things—Roman Kuznetsov knows he can’t reign forever and he’s been funneling power to them for years now. Won’t do Jimmy any good, though. Pieces of filth like that are a dime-a-dozen, and we don’t have room in the organization for cowards. He runs up debts with the Corvis and think we’re going to risk ourselves to protect him. Fuck that. “You could talk to him,” Dimitri

mused, tapping his beer glass against the side of the table and searching the room for a waitress. Before it could hit the table a fifth time, one showed up with a fresh, open bottle. “For what?” “See if he has anything to offer.” He raised his eyebrows. “Given recent events, we’d be stupid to turn down any leverage.” “You think Jimmy has leverage?” Rejnov laughed. We all knew Jimmy was ground level. Nothing to offer but another meat sack to get in the way of bullets when it was time to make a sale. He was the kind of guy you went to when someone needed to do two years on the

inside. Rejnov was still laughing and even I smirked a little, but Dimitri’s face was stone. “Not joking. If there’s a chance we can get anything on those fuckers, it’s worth taking five minutes to deal with that pig shit.” “Fine.” Once a Kuznetsov speaks, I act. That’s how it’s been since I was a kid. Standing up, I walk to the plush carpeted stairs that lead down into the pit. Getting back here is difficult enough for people. Getting up the stairs is impossible unless you’re connected— and Jimmy can’t even get through the front door. Annoyance is a slight twinge

in my shoulders. Tonight isn’t a night to deal with men who barely deserve the designation. Before I hit the lowest step, the room shifts and I see her. Jimmy’s working so hard to get my attention that he blocks a woman from getting to the rope—and she’s the kind who’d get through the guards. Average height, but then the word stops applying to anything about her. Masses of chestnut brown hair are pulled on top of her head, with just enough pieces left out that my hands itch to touch the silk of it. Her skin is pale and her expression strained, but that doesn’t detract from the pure sensual

beauty of her face. Full lips and eyes greener than the grassy lawn outside the Tretyakov Gallery where my mother used to picnic with me as a child. Jimmy says something to her and she snaps back at him, eyes full of emerald wildfire and suddenly I’m uncomfortably hard and grateful for the heavy jacket I kept on to conceal the large arms I wear when I’m out with the brothers Kuznetsov. More shit comes out of his mouth and the girl physically pushes past him. The movement makes the dress that barely wraps around her tight little body strain even more and for a moment I hope she has a wardrobe malfunction

and I can see the tits barely contained by the neckline that presses into her skin. No luck. Fuck. It’s been too many days without a woman while I’ve been cleaning up loose ends and trying to figure out what the fuck happened to the warehouse where they were packing a major shipment from Mexico for national distribution. That’s the only reason why I’m burning to grab her, drag her into the darkest corner of the room and strip her down until there’s only her body trembling, her mouth on my skin, my body shoved deep inside hers. But Dimitri wants Jimmy. So he’ll get Jimmy.

Then maybe I’ll come back for her. “Get over here.” I look past the woman and gesture to Jimmy. He walks up preening like he’s accomplished something. When his hip bumps the woman I’ve marked, hot rage fills my throat. “Thank you,” he said. “I waited a long time.” “You’ll be waiting longer unless you have something for us.” Part of me says to let him go talk to Dimitri alone. Both brothers are armed and don’t need me to keep them safe from Dimitri. But you don’t walk away from your sworn duty for a pretty face and a

body that makes you think of silk sheets and handcuffs. “Let’s go.” My feet don’t cooperate. “Wait.” I grab the back of his shirt. “Don’t move.” Looking back over the rope, I stare at her for a moment. She looks lost. “Did you want to come in here?” “Yes,” she says and her eyes go to the raised floor where the brothers are sitting. Another one of those girls then— the ones who chase around FAMILY guys, hoping to get somewhere. Means my instincts were off, but there’s still fun enough to be had. Wouldn’t have pictured this girl as one ready to barter her body for money and

power. “Stop making hot girls wait to get in,” I tell the bouncer, who nods. He knows where the power is in this club. She walks past the rope and the crowd surges, pressing her body against mine. She’s soft and the scent of fresh apples wafts up, cutting through the haze of sweat-soaked pores created by the throng of dancers. “Thank you.” Her voice is beautiful. Soft and feminine. “I want to talk to you,” I tell her. “I want to talk to you too.” Her eyes go up again. I wonder which brother she wants to be with. Doesn’t matter.

Neither of them gets to touch her. “I’ll be back.” Hitting Jimmy hard enough to make him exclaim, I head back toward where the brothers are sitting. I push him into the booth and slide in after him, effectively blocking his exit. “Get out of here,” I tell the blonde who glares at me and then makes doe eyes at Dimitri. “Do it. But don’t go far.” She walks away and our waitress comes back, barring conversation while we order another round of drinks. “Be right back.” She heads to the bar, cloaking the table in noise that will cover the conversation.

“Talk.” Dimitri’s word is enough to make Jimmy foam at the mouth. “Last week I was over at the Corvis. I’ve been settling my debts by working them off, you know?” His forehead is dripping with sweat and he smells like literal garbage. “Yes.” “They had me waiting to meet with Piero.” My head whips over at the name, finally looking away from the girl who went to the bar and sat down, ordering a drink. The Corvis have no reason for a scumbag like Jimmy to meet with the head of the FAMILY. There are layers in every organization designed to keep space between the top and the

bottom. Of course, Jimmy is sitting here with Dimitri, so sometimes lines are crossed. “What happened?” “I heard something. Something I think would be worth a lot to you guys.” He rubs a dirty hand over his mouth, like a rat hungry for cheese that’s just out of reach. “But I need protection. As soon as something comes of it, I know they’re going to know it was me.” “You think we can protect you from the Corvis?” Rejnov has a point. We’re powerful, but they’re the undisputed leaders on the west coast, thanks to the guidance of Piero. Turns

out when you have no scruples, you can go far in this business. “Someone has to,” he says, “if you want the information.” He thinks he has us by the short hairs, but Dimitri still looks amused. Relaxed. “Trust me, it’s worth it. If you think I’m bullshitting, you can send me out. But if it’s good, I want protection.” The waitress returns then, handing out drinks. Jimmy takes the shot he ordered, then sips the beer. Once she leaves again, Dimitri speaks. “You come to us for protection and then tell us what we’re going to do. Okay.” He nods, take another drink from his bottle. “Let me tell you what’s going

to happen. Sebastian is going to take you out back and break every bone in both your legs. Whenever you tell us what you information you have, he stops.” “Wait.” Jimmy’s hands shake so hard beer sloshes on the table. “If you still don’t want to tell us once he’s done, he’ll put a bullet in your worthless head.” Dimitri sits back and looks at him with a level gaze. “Thanks for stopping by.” I move to get out of the booth and Jimmy wraps his grimy fingers around the edge of the table. “Wait, wait, wait. Please. I’m sorry.” Dimitri holds up a hand and I pause on the edge of the seat. “What?”

“I meant no disrespect. I just want to be safe.” “Why didn’t you keep the information to yourself?” Rejnov asks. “I want to get out of California. With the debts I owe the Corvis, I’ll be here for the next 20 years paying for a few months of bad decisions.” Drugs and gambling. The quickest way for a man to lose control of his own life. “I thought you could help me start somewhere. Fresh.” “And so you brought us this information.” “It was like a golden ticket, man.” His eyes gleam again and I crack my knuckles. The brightness dims.

“Tell us what you know.” Dimitri gestures to me and I slide back into my position, my eyes once again wandering over the crowd of dancers to find the girl I wish I was sitting with. A man occupies the barstool next to her and is holding an animated conversation with her while I’m stuck here dealing with business. “Pietro said that San Bernadino was his guys.” That’s enough to make me forget the girl is even in the room, even if fresh apples still tease my nose. “What?” It’s the most emotion I’ve seen from Dimitri in months. His face flushes with red and his fists tighten reflexively. “Be more specific.”

He doesn’t have to, though. We’re all still living with San Bernadino. An entire warehouse full of cargo and the people who pack and move it went up in flames. We lost millions in assets and enough lives that even I thought it was wasteful. “He sent Blaze and Anders up there to burn you out,” he said. “He wants more control on the north side.” One of the benefits to being peaceful with other organizations is that we all have territory. It’s agreed on and everyone respects it. Until now. Fire is eating away at me. For more than a week, I’ve been

investigating the source of the fire— knew it could be a rival or some lowlife gang trying to make a name for itself. But I never suspected the Corvi family. Maybe I should have—we’ve been gaining power for years. I guess we just became a threat to them. My immediate instinct is to leave the club, find the two enforcers who burned the warehouse and give them a taste of lead. My calmer side prevails though—I won’t be the one to start a war with Pietro unless that’s what Roman wants. But my blood rushes faster at the thought. Fucker.

“Can you prove it?” “No,” Jimmy says, the words pulled out of him. “I didn’t have my phone to record it and I wouldn’t have any way. You know what Pietro would do if he saw me.” “I sure as fuck do.” Pietro Corvi is a bad man. It’s ridiculous for a hitman to frame anyone else in those terms, but when it comes down to it, that’s what he is. He kills without reason. Sells women. Pushes products the Kuznetsovs won’t touch with a ten-foot pole. Crime pays, but we have limits. He doesn’t. Since he took over the Corvi

crime ring, they’ve dominated the west coast from their base in LA. Over 20 years, they’ve gone from a hole in the wall to overtake everyone, even us. Maybe we let it happen. Roman always says that pigs get fat, and hogs get slaughtered. But Pietro is getting meatier every year and no one has sent him to the butcher yet. Maybe it’s time that someone did. If what Jimmy says is true, things in LA might be about to get very hot. I can see from the looks on Dimitri and Rejnov’s faces that they’re thinking the same thing. War with the Corvis means

blood—but it might also mean power. And if there’s one thing the three of us have in common, it’s that we love power. I pat down Jimmy and pull one of our enforcers away from the club to take him to the compound where he can talk to Roman. Once he’s gone, all I can think about is the girl. When I get to the bar, a man whose name I barely remember has his hand on her leg and I have to take a breath to keep from snapping his wrist like a twig. No one touches what’s mine— and for tonight, at least, this one is mine.

Even if she doesn’t know it yet. He’s gone quick enough that the violence inside disappears and then I take another look at her. She’s younger than I originally thought, I realize. She must be 21, since she got through the door and none of us are going to lose a liquor license to let a minor get a few drinks. But I doubt she’s much older than that. The girl is beautiful, but I can see the calluses on her palms when she turns her hands over. What kind of girl her age is doing manual labor often enough to form such hard patches of skin? Her dress fits like a glove and obviously cut for her body—but she

doesn’t seem wealthy. She’s still nursing the same drink I saw her order 20 minutes ago—the ice has melted and paled the color. So I tell her she doesn’t belong and all that scared-girl-in-the-wrong place goes out of her face and she straightens her back, looks me dead in the eye and says she belongs. I consider her fair game, then. “Come upstairs with me.” Her eyes fly up and she shakes her head. “Is there somewhere quieter?” She’s speaking my language now. I quickly reassess, though, when color floods her cheeks. “What’s your name?”

“Elizabeth. You’re Bastian?” “Sebastian.” Her eyes widen and I see her force them back to normal. Reading people is one of the skills that’s kept me alive as long as I have been, and I think she must have heard of me. Not surprising. Roman raised me for a good portion of my life, and in return I put the fear of god in his enemies. Hard thing to do without a reputation for violence. “Come on.” I take her hand—and it’s small and cold in my own. I lead her through the crowd to a door, pushing it open and walking into the small hallway where the administrative offices are. “We can talk in here.”

The room is basically a meeting room, small and dimly lit, like everything else here. Brighter than the club, though and I can see the strands of sun-bright blonde that meld with the deeper chestnut of her tresses. Without the press of bodies around us, the fresh, clean scent of apples is harder to ignore. “Thank you,” she says, walking past me and standing by the window. It’s blacked out, but she leans next to it as if she can see out to the cramped, dirty street beyond. “At first I thought you wanted to be alone so you could fuck my brains out,” I say, and for the first time in years, I cringe at my own crass words. The

blush that stained her cheeks is deeper now, bright pink against her pale, smooth skin and when I move my eyes south, I see that the skin above her breasts is also red with embarrassment. “Not tonight,” she says, and I realize that she’s trembling. I scare a lot of people, but for some reason I don’t want to scare her. I want Elizabeth to want to go home with me. I want to drive my aching cock into her lush, willing body while she dugs those short-clipped, clean fingernails into my back and begs for more. “We’ll see.” Another smile flirts with her lips for a second before she takes a deep breath and looks at me

straight. “I need help.” “With what?” I’ll help her with anything, as long as it’s directions to the nearest horizontal surface. The wall would do. Or the table. “I need new identity documents for myself and a friend. Birth certificate, social security card, driver’s license. It needs to hold up internationally—that’s the difficult part.” She sighs and I school my expression to keep from showing shock. She doesn’t look like a woman who’d be buying a new identity. Getting one will be easy, but I’m not going to sign up to help until I find out why she needs it. And who the

second set of documents is for. “Why?” “I’d rather not say.” She looks away and I take the opportunity to shrug off my jacket, then hand it to her. “What’s this?” She reaches out by instinct and takes it. “Put it on. You’re shivering.” She pulls it around her body and it dwarfs her, hanging off her slight frame. Elizabeth looks younger with it almost covering her entire dress, like a college kid who’s dressing up for a play and I feel old, animalistic for the strength of my lust for her. “Tell me why you want the documents.”

“I thought if I paid…” “I’m not just going to hand over a new identity.” Is she running from an abusive husband? Or the law? “Can you get it for me if I tell you?” I could have all the paperwork she’d ever need in less than three days. “Yes.” “Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “My boyfriend is a violent, dangerous criminal. Ex-boyfriend now. I’m scared he’ll kill me if he finds me. He has my identification and even if I could get it back, it would make me easier to track. I just want to have a life again.” “What will you do when you have it?”

“Leave California. Go to college. I don’t know—I just know I’ll have options.” The hope on her face squeezes something in my chest. “Who’s the second set for?” “My best friend.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out an envelope. Inside is a USB drive and some printed photos. “I think I have everything you need to make us new paperwork on this drive. If not, though, I can get whatever you want.” “What’s on here?” “My pictures. Hers. We have the backgrounds right for most states in the US, as far as DMV photos go. Our birthdates. Names we like, but we’ll

take whatever we can get.” I nod, impressed at her preparedness. “It costs a lot to get this kind of work done.” “I know.” She takes a deep breath. “How much?” “For two? $20,000.” I expect her to balk—her hands and the ripped lining of her purse suggest that she doesn’t have much money to spend. “I have it.” She smiles and her lips part and I want to see her look up at my from between my legs like that. Focus, Seb. “You know, there are other ways to deal with an asshole like that. Ways that are cheaper and would keep you

safer.” Before I finish the sentence, she’s already shaking her head no. “I don’t want anything to do with him. I just want a chance to start a new life with my best friend.” “I’ll talk to my people. How can I get in touch with you?” She gives me a card with her phone number and I slip it in my wallet. “Do you have any preferences for states or anything else?” “No,” she says. “Just not California. We can be from different places, too—it doesn’t matter.” “You sure this is the way you want to go?” “I am.”

“Then I’ll get it done.” The urge to satisfy her—not in the way I’ve been thinking about all night, but just to meet the need she obviously feels so deeply— is strong. Identification is easy enough and she’s not reading as a threat. I’ll do a little recon and see what I can find out about her before I put in the order, but I think this will be open and shut. Easy money for a few hours work. It occurs to me that a new identity means she’ll be out of LA and I won’t see her again. Not that it matters. “Thank you,” she says, reaching out to lay her delicate hand on mine. It’s

warm now and when I follow the line of her arm up to her face, her cheeks are flushed and her small, pink tongue darts out to lick her lips. Fuck it. “Come here.” I take her hand and yank her forward, covering her mouth with mine. She tastes sweet, like summer wine, and gasps into my mouth at that first contact. “I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you standing behind that asshole tonight,” I say, releasing her hand and sliding my own onto her ass, pulling her body tight against mine. The whimpers of arousal that spill from her lips when she feels the press of my hard

cock against her have me ready to explode in my jeans. She grips me hard and kisses back, sliding her tongue into my mouth. The music seems so far away and all I can hear is her breathing. Her heartbeat races when I move my hands up her back and push them into her hair, releasing it from its hold so that it spills around her face and the scent of her perfume intensifies. “Fuck,” I say, achingly hard. “You’re so sweet.” She pulls back and smiles. “You’re not.” I bite back a laugh. Can’t remember ever laughing when I was in the middle of kissing a woman.

I push her up on the table and she wraps her legs around me. It’s so fucking hot how she can’t get closer enough, clinging to my shirt for more. I can feel her heels digging into my back and I thrust against her a little while I reach up to touch her breasts, knowing she must be as hot between the legs as her mouth is one mine and I want to bad to sink into her. But I feel her freeze and I force myself to slow. “This is too much?” “I’m sorry.” She takes a shuddering breath and unwinds her legs. It feels like a loss. “I don’t—I can’t. I don’t have time for this in my life right

now?” “Time to get fucked?” I’m horny and crude and I want to sink into her and fuck away some of the agonizing arousal. “Time for you.” Elizabeth moves off the table, takes off my jacket and hands it to me. “I hope this doesn’t change anything.” She sounds so prim now, when my body is still hot from her hands all over it. “It doesn’t.” But I already know I’ll be the one contacting her to give her the identities she wants. The thought of never seeing her again isn’t acceptable. But right now she wants to leave. I can feel her eagerness to be gone as strongly as I did her desire to be

touched, and I give in. “Let’s get out of here. I need to get home soon. Do you need a ride?” “I have one,” she says, not offering any more information. But she smiles at me as I open the door to the hallway. “You can go out the back door there, if you prefer.” “Thank you.” She walks away and opens the door. I’m ready to let her go without a word—to plan my strategy for a better outcome during our next meeting—but then I suddenly want to know something. “Is Elizabeth your real name?” “Yes,” she says, and I believe

her. “I’m going to miss it. I was named after my grandmother.” Such a small, sweet smile on her kiss-swollen lips and I’m already cursing myself for letting her go when she turns and walks out the door.