Jag stood in the way too early morning light, hands on hips, staring at what was left of his baby.

The sight was almost cruel enough to shed a damn tear. But he wasn’t upset. No. The air may be humid, but he was steaming.

Dex, Diesel, Hawk, Rig, Crash and Jag’s sister Jewel, all appearing as if they were in mourning, also circled the hunk of metal that used to be his customized Harley.

Rig had brought the rollback during the night and they had loaded the pieces up and hauled them back to the garage. Now they were in a pile. A fucking pile. The chain that the Warriors had hooked to his sled to drag it through the pawn shop parking lot and down the road, effectively scattering pieces of metal for about a tenth of a mile, was still wrapped around what was left of the handlebars.

His baby. Forty thousand dollars and two years of work. His custom baby was destroyed. Royally fucked. And it wasn’t some simple fix. It was totaled.

What good was a Road Captain without a ride?

“See nothin’?” Diesel asked in grunt speak.

Jag blew out a breath trying not to drop to his knees and pound the pavement with his fists until they were bloody. “No.”

“Too busy with your ears between her thighs?” Jewel asked, her lips curved slightly at the corners.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jag saw Dex’s head pop up and twist toward him. His brows knitted together. “You fuckin’ my sister?”

The heavy gazes of Hawk and Diesel landed on him. He didn’t need to have his body parts strewn alongside his bike’s either.

He dragged a hand through his hair. “Yeah.” He eyeballed Dex. “Gotta problem with that?”

Whacking Jag on the back, Dex barked out a laugh. “Fuck no. ‘Bout time.”

He turned to Hawk and Diesel. “You two gotta problem with it?”

Even though both brothers were Ivy’s cousins, they tended to be more protective of her than her own brother.

Diesel cocked a heavy brow. But before he could grunt his answer, Jag said, “Don’t matter anyhow, shit’s over before it began.”

“What do you mean?” Jewel asked, her mouth hanging open, her eyes round.

Jag ignored his sister and glanced around the circle of his brothers. “Wasn’t just Warriors I dealt with last night. Dragged Ivy out of Knight’s territory. Was hangin’ at Dirty Dick’s.”

The air changed around him. Both Diesel and Hawk’s spines straightened and suddenly they appeared taller, broader and definitely scarier than usual.

“What the fuck?” Hawk asked. He turned to Dex. “You know about this?”

Ivy’s brother shook his head. “Fuck no. I did, would’ve stopped her.”

Hawk gave a sharp nod and his eyes fell on Jewel, who abruptly became pale. And when Diesel’s gaze fixed on her, she took a step back. “I— I gotta go back to the office.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ move,” Diesel growled, his brows pinned low, his face twisted in a scowl.

Jewel spine straightened as she slammed her hands on her hips and faced him. “Can’t tell me what to do, D.”

His nostrils flared and his jaw tightened. “Fuck I can’t.”

“Beast,” she said under her breath and he took a threatening step forward but stopped.

Jag had no idea what the hell that meant, but Diesel certainly didn’t like it and usually no one challenged him. Not even the man’s father, Ace. At least not since Diesel outgrew him when he turned sixteen.

“Spill it,” Diesel shouted.

Jewel’s body jolted. “Nothing to spill,” she whispered, her voice a bit shaky. She looked at Jag and raised her eyebrows, a silent plea for his help.

Jag frowned at his sister. He hadn’t stuck around last night after overhearing Jewel mention that Ivy was at Dirty Dick’s to one of the prospects. But he had questions of his own.

He’d let the club’s enforcer get the answers from her. He wasn’t really happy with his own blood right now. Especially since she knew Ivy was going to Dirty Dick’s on her own.

“Woman. Talk or else. Got me?”

Jewel pursed her lips, tilted her head as she considered the large angry man in front of her, then said, “She went to Pierce and he okayed it. That’s all I know.”

“Fuckin’ bitches gotta meddle,” Crash said, shaking his head. He looked at Jag. “They fuck with her?”

“Not that I can tell. She says no. Dragged her ass outta there as soon as I found out. Talkin’ all sweet to three of ‘em dressed an’ made up like a goddamn hooker.”

Jewel’s mouth dropped open. “No, she wasn’t,” she whispered like she didn’t believe him.

“The fuck she wasn’t. No bra, tight tank top, leather pants an’ thigh-high hooker boots. Makeup so thick, need paint thinner to remove it.”

Diesel’s expression became more intense and crazier as he confronted Jewel that even Jag began to worry. “You women dress like that when you go out?”

Her eyes flicked up to D then slid to the side. “No.”

A sound escaped Diesel that even made Hawk raise his brows in his direction. “Fuckin’ better not,” Diesel practically roared. “Now get gone, woman. Get back to the office. We gotta talk.”

Jag was pretty sure Diesel meant “we” as in the men, but he wouldn’t doubt D’s “we” had a double meaning.

Jewel scrunched her face up at Diesel, but after a quick eye flick to Jag, she turned and headed back toward the office. Slowly.

“Hurry up,” Diesel yelled at her.

Without turning around, Jewel flipped him the bird over her shoulder, but she started to walk faster. A couple of the guys snorted, and Rig bent over in laughter, slapping his thigh.

“She’s another one that needs tamed, just like Ivy,” Crash mumbled. When Diesel’s gaze dropped on him, he threw his hands up. “Not for me to take on, though. Noooo doubt. Like my pussy a lot easier and agreeable. Gotta be a helluva good fuck to want to put up with that hassle.”

A-fucking-men, Jag thought, that “hassle” from last night still fresh in his mind.

“Fuckin’ women,” their VP, Hawk, grumbled. “So we gotta deal with two issues. First one bein’ Pierce allowin’ Ivy to head into the Knight’s territory. Supposed to be one of Dawg’s girls goin’.” He looked toward his brother.

“Couldn’t get one to cooperate,” Diesel said, his eyes still pointed the direction Jewel went, though she was no longer in sight.

“Think Pierce approached Ivy or think it was the other way around?” Rig asked, scratching his barely-there beard.

“Knowin’ my sister, she probably went to Pierce,” Dex answered.

Diesel grunted.

“Even if any of us were okay with it, he needed to bring it to the table. He didn’t,” Hawk said. “Bad move for a prez.”

“Gonna need dealt with,” Diesel said, his attention finally back on the group of men.

“Pierce is fucked,” Jag muttered.

Hawk raised a placating hand. “Yeah, well, let’s not do anythin’ stupid. This is gonna have to be a bigger discussion than just the few of us. Can’t accuse Pierce on Jewel’s word alone. Ivy coulda told her a story about Pierce okayin’ it when she just went an’ did it on her own. Let’s get to the bottom of it first. Then deal with it at a later date once we got all the facts.”

“Agreed,” Crash said and some other assenting grunts rose up around the circle. “Second problem...”

“Yeah, that,” Hawk continued.

Jag chimed in. “Doubt it was the Knights’ retaliation for me draggin’ Ivy’s ass out of Dirty Dick’s, stealin’ away some possible fresh pussy. Or even for DAMC violating their territory, be it a bitch or not.”

“Got Warriors written all over it,” Diesel said, kicking the heavy chain that laid next to the destroyed bike parts. Another round of grunts rose in agreement from the brothers.

“You don’t fuck with my woman or my bike,” Jag muttered, though he felt like screaming it at the top of his lungs.

“Anyone call 5-0?” Hawk asked, his eyes on Jag.

“Not me,” Jag answered. “An’ none showed their pig faces before Rig picked up me an’ what was left of my sled.”

“Goddamn shame,” Rig grumbled, kneeling down and patting what was left of the custom gas tank that had one side crushed in and most of the custom paint scraped off. Road rash.

“Good,” Diesel spoke up. “Keep this on the DL. We’ll handle it.”

Hawk turned to Jag. “Guess you’ll be in four wheels for a while until you get a new sled. Grab a loaner cage from Crash.”

Jag nodded, although he wasn’t happy about being stuck driving a car. Especially one of Crash’s junkers.

However, unless he bought a temporary bike, it would take him another two years to build something like he already had. His pride and joy. His baby. All that work, all that money, gone in minutes by those nomad assholes who had a chip on their damn shoulder.

But better his bike than them grabbing Ivy. Bad enough she had been hanging with the Knights. He would have lost his mind if the Warriors had snagged her. No telling what would have happened. To her, anyway, because there was no doubt what would have happened to the Warriors. They’d all be dead. And Jag would be holed up at SCI Greene with Doc and his father, Rocky.

“Guess you’re gonna have to make another custom.”

Jag lifted his eyes to Crash, and he grunted in agreement. His mouth flat-lined at the thought of all the work that was involved. It was one thing to build a custom bike for a customer. Building customs was his passion, but it was something he got paid to do and paid well. He was always in demand and never had a lack of work. People came from all over to get a custom from him. Even the biker cops did, too. He’d take their money, it spent like anyone else’s. Quite a few of the Blue Avengers MC members had a custom from him. Even Axel, his cop cousin and Zak’s brother, had one. The man had spent a small fortune to get what he wanted. And Jag had loved taking Axel’s hard-earned money.

However, when it came to building his own bike, he had to do it on his own time. Nights, weekends, and every spare moment. Plus, he had to dump his own money into it. He’d been squirreling away some scratch so he could move out of his room at church and buy a house. Not a big place, but something that was his and not the club’s. Now it didn’t look like that would happen anytime soon. A new sled came before a house. As club road captain, not having a bike was like missing an arm or a leg.

Fuck.

Hawk clapped him on the back. “Wanna say a eulogy before we recycle her?”

Jag snorted and with a last look at his baby in ruined pieces, he shook his head and walked away before he broke down in front of his brothers.

He lost Ivy and his bike in one night. He needed a drink and didn’t care that it wasn’t even nine yet.

* * *

“Sit,” Pierce barked, tipping his chin toward the chair to his right. He sat at the head of the polished wood DAMC table.

Ivy shook her head. She wasn’t getting comfy with Pierce in the club’s meeting room, especially with the door closed. “I’m not going to be here long.”

He tilted his head and ran his heated gaze up her legs, over her breasts where he hesitated, then finally met her eyes. That was after staring at her mouth for a few seconds. Ivy had fought not to lick her lips.

“Anythin’ happen?”

“Jag found out and dragged me out of there last night.”

He lifted one brow, picked up the gavel in front of him and spun it absently in his fingers. “Yeah?” He tilted his head and asked, “He pissed?”

“Let’s just say he wasn’t thrilled finding me there.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Told you you’re on his to-do list.”

Ivy ignored that.

“D’ya find out anythin’?”

“A little bit of chatter. I wasn’t there long enough to get anything good.”

He shook his head. “Fuckin’ Jag, gotta let his dick screw shit up.”

Ivy was sure that Pierce’s dick had screwed things up before, too, so he had no room to talk. “Yeah, well, I kind of told a couple of the Knights I lived in Baldwin. They seemed to know the area well, so makes me wonder if they’ve been scoping out the town.”

Pierce released a low whistle. “Baldwin? Shit.”

“Problem is, I’m not sure if they’re going to be suspicious since Jag came in claiming me as DAMC. If the Knights compare notes, they might figure out I was lying to them. It might put the club in a bad spot.”

“Nothin’ we can’t handle.”

“Right... Sorry I couldn’t get anything more.”

He studied her. “Like I said, probably wouldn’t get more unless you took some Dark Knights’ dick. Least we know to watch Baldwin. They grab that town, we know they’re headin’ in this direction. Doesn’t mean they won’t push our boundaries, though. Or they might stop there. Hell, they can have Baldwin.”

Ivy kept her face neutral but she couldn’t believe Pierce was telling her this stuff. Usually they didn’t share shit with the women. But he was talking to her like she was one of the brothers. Because of that she wasn’t going to interrupt him.

Suddenly a look came over his face and he narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t leave this room, got me? Don’t be flappin’ your lips to the other bitches ‘bout what you heard at Dick’s or in here. Club business ain’t your business. None of ya.”

And there it was. He was running his mouth in front of a vagina with ears and realized his mistake.

Asshole.

Ivy closed her eyes in a struggle not to roll them. When she had it under control, she opened them and asked, “Are we done here?’

“Unless you want me to fuck you over this table, we’re done. Close the door behind you.”

The man was probably going to whack off when she left. Her stomach turned and so did she as she rushed to leave the room. Quickly closing the door behind her, she was relieved to see Grizz sitting at the club’s private bar in his normal spot.

She ducked behind the bar, grabbed his almost empty pint glass and poured him a fresh draft, sliding it in front of him.

“Where’s Mama Bear?”

He lifted his bearded chin toward the kitchen and grumbled, “In the kitchen where she belongs.”

Ivy didn’t stop her eyes from rolling this time. She made sure Grizz saw it.

He swatted a hand towards her in dismissal, but his heavily wrinkled eyes narrowed in her direction. “Watcha doin’ in there? You an’ Prez fuckin’?”

All the blood rushed from Ivy’s face. “No!” She shot a glance toward the closed door to make sure Pierce had remained inside and didn’t hear that.

“Watcha doin’ with him alone then? You know that’s no good.”

She dropped her eyes to an empty shot glass that sat on the bar. “Just talking.”

“’Bout what?”

She picked the shot glass up and sniffed it. Jack. Someone had been hittin’ it already this morning. “Nothing.”

Grizz slammed his palm on the bar top, causing Ivy to jump out of her skin. “Ain’t nothin’, girly. Spill it. Or I’ll tell everyone you doin’ him on the sly. Wait ‘til his ol’ lady hears that. She’ll pull out your hair an’ scratch your face.” Then his eyes became distant like he was imagining the two women getting into a cat fight. His lips twitched.

Crazy old man. Though, she loved the big old bear no matter what a grump he could be.

She jammed her hands on her hips and frowned at him. “You wouldn’t.”

He swiped at the beer foam clinging to his overgrown grey mustache. “Fuck I wouldn’t. Tell me. If he’s hidin’ club business, I gotta know. Don’t trust that slimy fucker. Especially after...” His gravelly voice faded off.

“Especially after what?” she prodded.

He shook his head and pulled at his long, raggedy salt-and-pepper beard. She could hardly see his lips buried in all that untrimmed wiry hair but she could tell he was now frowning.

“Just listen to me, girl. Don’t be alone with him. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

A chill ran through her. She looked over her shoulder back to the closed meeting room door. “He’s prez though,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” He tilted his pint glass to his lips and downed half his beer, then slammed it back onto the polished wood bar top. “Now... spill it or I will.”

“You’re ruthless, Grizz.”

“Yep.” He nodded. “How the fuck you think I survived long enough to get this grey?”

She leaned over the bar toward him and murmured, “Can’t tell anyone.”

“Right,” he grunted.

Right. He would run his mouth as soon as he could. Because of that she needed to make something up that was believable. She grabbed a can of pop from the cooler and after popping the top she took a sip, trying to come up with something that would satisfy Grizz’s curiosity.

“I was thinking about opening up my own computer store. Fixing computers, making the club a little extra green.”

He raised a bushy brow. “Instead of working with Ace and Dex?”

God, she hated lying to Grizz. It was like lying to her grandfather. But truth was, she really had thought about opening her own shop. Too many times to count. So it wasn’t a complete lie. “Yeah. It’d be something small. I could control my own income, not have a set salary.”

“You ain’t hurtin’ for money, are you?”

Shit. “No. I was just thinking about moving out of the apartment and getting a bigger place. Maybe getting a dog.”

His gnarled, arthritis-filled hand swatted in her direction again. “Your ass lives for free in that place. Why you wanna saddle yourself with a mortgage an’ all that extra bullshit?”

“You and Mama Bear have a nice house.”

“So? We’re hardly there.” That was true. They both practically lived at church. Grizz’s ass welded to his bar stool, Mama Bear in the commercial kitchen that was sandwiched between The Iron Horse Roadhouse, the public side, and the private club side of the bar.

“When I leave work, I’d like to leave work, not just walk up the steps.”

“Gettin’ customers buggin’ you after hours?”

“Sometimes. Not much.”

“Rude assholes.”

She agreed. There was no reason to show up at someone’s residence hoping to pawn something for some cash. Usually it was people who were hard up for cash, but still... She didn’t work twenty-four seven and customers needed to respect that.

“Get Ace to give you a raise an’ get your own place. Still work at the shop.”

Ivy shook her head. “I’m not taking advantage of my college education.”

“That’s why school’s a waste of fuckin’ money. None of us are hurtin’ an’ look at all the businesses the club owns an’ runs. No college needed. Just a fuckin’ scam. We take care of our own.”

Ivy sighed and took a sip of her cola. Something was off. Ah. A shot or two of spiced rum would fix what was missing. She leaned down to grab the Captain Morgan and a large, white paper caught her eye. It was tucked in between two bottles of liquor under the bar.

She pulled it out and stared at the drawing. “What’s this?”

“What’s it look like, girly?”

“A professional drawing.” It was a pencil drawing of a Harley, but one that was all tricked out, completely customized and it was badass with a capital B. Every small detail was carefully drawn, though it wasn’t finished. Some shading was missing, some lines incomplete. But it was well on its way to being one of the nicest bikes she’d ever seen. Nicer than the custom sled that Jag had built for himself and he had worked on that one for a couple years.

Too bad the Warriors had to go destroy it last night. Nothing good ever happened when they came out of the woodwork.

“Yep,” was all he said.

“Yep? Who drew it?”

The old man tilted his bearded chin toward the empty shot glass that remained on the bar. “Jag was here early this morning hittin’ the bottle, depressed about his sled bein’ trashed. Was sittin’ here doodlin’.”

Doodling? This was no doodle. The sketch reminded her of something a professional designer for a concept car company would draw, but on a computer and not by hand. The details Jag had put into it were exquisite.

“He plans on building this bike?”

“How the fuck do I know? He wasn’t sayin’ much. Wanted to be left alone. Wasn’t gonna bug the man like you bitches like to do. Jeez, woman.”

She looked toward the back of the clubhouse at the stairway that led to the rooms upstairs. “He up there?”

“I look like his keeper?”

Ivy bit her bottom lip to keep from freaking out on Grizz. She loved the old man, so she didn’t want to give him a taste of her temper. But it was spiking.

“Why was it down here?”

“Left it on the bar an’ Mama tucked it away so it wouldn’t get ruined.”

“This is really good,” she murmured, staring at the drawing once more. “Like really good.”

Like completely amazing. She knew he was an expert at custom body work but she never considered that actual art. But what she held in her hands was art for sure.

Jag was a freaking artist.

“Have you seen him draw like this before?”

Grizz’s answer was a scowl in her direction.

She carefully rolled up the thick drawing paper, grabbed a discarded hair band, probably left behind by one of the sweet butts that hung out at the club, and secured it. She headed toward the back door of the club where her car was parked.

“Where ya goin’ with that?”

“I’ll bring it back.”

“He ain’t gonna like it,” he shouted at her back as she pushed open the metal door and stepped out into the daylight.

“Probably not,” she whispered as the door latched closed behind her.

Not even fifteen minutes later she was standing in Sophie’s Sweet Treats with the sketch rolled out on top of the bakery’s counter. She stood shoulder to shoulder with her sister Bella, Zak’s ol’ lady Sophie, and Jewel, who rushed over after Ivy texted her and told her to get her ass over there pronto.

She obliged without even a question. Because that’s what the club sisterhood was about... having each other’s back.

“Damn,” Bella whispered, her eyes wide. “That’s fucking great.”

“I know,” Sophie also whispered.

There was no reason for them to whisper, but clearly they were in awe of Jag’s talent just the same as she was. And, apparently, being in awe made you whisper.

Ivy slid her gaze to Jewel. “You ever see Jag draw like this before?”

She lifted one shoulder. “Sure. He doodled when we were kids. Never saw nothing like this though. His doodles weren’t bad.”

“This is no doodle,” Bella said, her eyes landing on Ivy. “Where’d you find it?”

“Under the bar at church. Grizz said he was working on it this morning while he was downing shots of Jack.”

“Downing shots of Jack already this morning?” Bella frowned, then she nodded, a sad look coming over her. “Oh, the shit with his bike.”

“And other things,” Ivy added, not wanting to bring up the crap that went on between them at her apartment and she’d promised Pierce not to talk to anyone about the Knights thing. Though, Jewel knew. She lifted her eyes to Jag’s sister, trying to give her an unspoken message not to open her mouth.

Jewel just gave her a look, then scrunched up her face in answer. “Saw the remainders of his bike this morning. Didn’t think you could trash a sled so badly by just dragging it.”

“I saw it last night. It looked like they drove over it, too.”

Ivy realized her mistake when both Sophie and Bella’s eyes shot to her.

“Last night?” Bella asked. “You were with Jag last night?”

“Not what you think. Can we get back to his sketch?” She leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest, looking directly at Jewel. “Seriously now... Jewelee, you ever see him draw anything like this before?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“He never brings in any sketches of the bikes he’s building into the shop?”

“Not like this. I’ve seen some rough sketches taped up in the bay he works in, but that’s about it. This one is pretty detailed.”

“I bet it’s for the bike he’ll build to replace his trashed one,” Sophie said, moving over to the display case and pulling out a tray of cupcakes. She slid it onto the glass top and handed one to each of the women, none of them refusing her amazing baked goods. “Key Lime,” she murmured before taking a big bite of her own.

Ivy tentatively licked the merengue topping, and when the tangy but sweet lime touched her taste buds, she shoved half of it in her mouth, her eyes rolling in ecstasy as she chewed. “Damn, that’s good,” she said as soon as she swallowed.

“Your sister made them,” Sophie answered, waving a hand toward Bella.

Bella just shrugged, her mouth full of cupcake.

Just then, Jewel and Jag’s sister Diamond walked in, the little bell clinking over the front door as it opened then closed.

“So what’s all the brouhaha that I have to haul my ass over here?” She stepped up to the counter and eyeballed the cupcakes. “New flavor or something?”

Sophie handed her a cupcake and immediately Diamond peeled the paper off the bottom and shoved half of it into her pie hole. Or cupcake hole more like it. “Holy fuck, that’s damn good!” Di said, with a mouth full of cake.

“I know, right?” Jewel said. She took the last bite of her own then wiped her hands on her jeans. “Come back here and look at what our brother has done.”

Di rolled her eyes. “What’s that shithead done now?” She walked through the counter opening and came up next to Ivy, her eyes immediately dropping to the drawing. “Jesus,” she whispered. “Jag do that?”

“Yeah,” Ivy breathed.

“That bonehead drew that?”

“Yeah,” Ivy repeated, a little louder.

“No fucking way.”

“Yeah, he did,” Ivy insisted. “It should be framed and on someone’s wall, right?”

“Hell yes, once it’s finished.” Diamond stepped back and faced Ivy. “Where’d you find that?”

“Under the bar.”

“Under the bar? At church?” Diamond asked, surprised.

“Yeah, Mama Bear found it and put it there for safe keeping.”

Diamond shook her head, then pursed her lips. “So, what’s the issue?”

“Think any of the brothers know?” Ivy asked her.

She hesitated, studied the drawing closer, then shrugged. “Doubt it. You think Jag would want to get ribbed about a talent like that? Being an artist?”

“Crow’s an artist,” Sophie pointed out.

Di snorted. “That handsome hunk of man-meat shoves needles and ink into skin and causes pain. Calls himself an ink slinger not a tattoo artist.”

That was true. No one called Crow an artist to his face. And she would assume that to the brothers a tattooist would be considered more manly than someone who sketched with pencils. Even if the sketches were motorcycles.

Sketches.

Most likely there were more than just this one. He certainly didn’t get this good overnight. Maybe he had a whole stash of them tucked away somewhere.

Hidden from all of them. Hidden from the world.

The man should be sharing his talent. Be proud of his skills.

Whatever. Typical biker, wanting to hide anything not “biker” worthy. They always have to act the ultimate badass. Keep their “rep.”

Pretty much all the brothers in the club did only the basics: grunted, burped, ate, drank, shit, fucked, and raised hell. They rode motorcycles, didn’t draw them.

Ivy frowned.

She needed to show the world Jag’s talents. She needed to find more of his drawings and show them to an art dealer, or post them online for sale, or... or... something.

Something needed to be done. She’d have to give this some serious thought.

Jewel whispered close to her ear. “I see trouble.”

Yeah. So did Ivy.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

She faced her close friend and DAMC sister. “I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

What she really wanted to do was drag Jewel into the back of the bakery and grill her on how Jag found out that she was at Dirty Dick’s the night before, but she thought about what Pierce said, and would deal with Jewel the next time they were alone. Not with their sisters standing around and their ears perked.

The bell above the front door jingled again, and all eyes pointed that direction as Axel walked in. He froze and his blue eyes widened when he saw the group of them.

“Fuck,” he muttered, then unfroze himself and moved closer. “A gaggle of biker babes. What’s going on here? You ladies up to no good?”

“At least you didn’t call us bitches like the rest of them do,” Jewel mumbled and elbowed Bella, giving her the what’s up with him? round eyes and brow raise.

Bella ignored her and broke away from the group. “You here for your daily sugar rush?”

“Yes,” he leaned into the display case, eyeing up the Key Lime cupcakes. “You bake those?”

Ivy eyed Axel in his police uniform like he was a cupcake. Maybe she should chase cops, be a badge bunny and stop bringing home geeks. They may be more up her alley. They might like a little rough sex, but not treat their women like property.

“Yes,” Bella answered him, handing him one. Then all eyes were glued to the cop as his tongue came out and he slowly licked off half of the merengue.

“Jesus,” Diamond whispered next to her. “If he wasn’t my cousin...”

Ivy elbowed her, but inconspicuously squeezed her own thighs together. Jag had left her hanging last night. He made her come once with his mouth, but she needed more than that. So watching Axel—who looked so much like his brother Zak, who Ivy had a crush on for most of her youth—use his tongue like that while pinning his gaze on Bella, just about made her come in her pants.

Bella was one lucky woman if she’d let Axel in.

But she wouldn’t and she won’t.

Bella wasn’t letting anyone in.

Plus, the brothers would shit a brick if Bella hooked up with a cop, even if he was Zak’s blood brother and related to a few of them.

Blood or not, Axel and his father Mitch were the law. And the law and the DAMC didn’t mix very well.

Not one of the women moved as they watched Axel finish licking all the merengue off the top of his cupcake. Then when he bit into the cake it seemed that the spell was broken and all of them relaxed, sighing in unison.

Then when the radio on his duty belt squawked, the women all blinked at each other with color in their cheeks.

“Fucking Axel,” Bella grumbled, turning away and shaking her head.

Jewel clutched her chest and leaned into Ivy, saying under her breath, “Holy fuck, that’s my cousin. Something’s wrong with me.”

The corner of Ivy’s lip twitched. “I think I hear banjos.”

Jewel’s eyes widened, then she laughed, smacking Ivy on the arm. “Gross.”

Ivy shrugged. “You need to go bleach your brain.”

“That’s for sure.”

Axel finished up a quick conversation full of cop-speak into the mic on his shoulder, then stepped closer to the counter. “What’s that?”

Shit.

His eyes were on Jag’s drawing. She rushed over to it and began to roll it up.

Axel held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

Double shit.

“No.”

“Ivy,” he said in a cop’s tone, full of warning.

Ivy sighed and handed the sketch over. Since he hardly ever talked to any of the club brothers, even his own blood brother Zak, she wasn’t worried about him spilling the beans.

He snagged the drawing from her and laid it out on the counter, studying it. “What are you doing with one of Jag’s sketches?”

Ivy blinked. Diamond blinked. Hell, all the women just looked at Axel and blinked in surprise.

Ivy shook herself mentally. “You know Jag draws?”

He nodded, his short military style haircut not even moving a little bit. “Yeah. He did a sketch like this when he built my bike. Not quite this detailed but just as good. This looks like it’s going to be a nicer bike than mine. Or even his. Who is he building this one for?”

Ivy’s gaze swept over the women then landed on Axel, who was staring at Jewel. Which made sense. Not only was Jewel Jag’s sister, but they worked together at the body shop. If anyone should know, she should.

Which she didn’t.

But that was not here nor there.

“Probably himself,” Jewel finally answered.

“Why? He’s got a bike he spent like forty grand on.”

Forty grand?

Holy shit. And the Warriors just reduced it to a pile of rubble in minutes.

“Needs a new bike,” Jewel said.

His dark eyebrows pinned together. “Why? What happened to his old bike? Not that it was old...”

Ivy knew the cops weren’t called last night. No one reported what happened. Axel’s interest may be innocent, but if he found out the Warriors were involved and stirring up the beef between them and DAMC, he’d go into cop mode. And that wouldn’t be good for anyone.

Ivy shot Jewel a look, then stepped forward, laying a hand on Axel’s arm to draw his attention. “I think he’s just playing around with some ideas, that’s all.”

Axel nodded and took Ivy’s words as truth.

That was the second time she lied today. Well, she might have sort of lied to Jag early this morning in her apartment, too. “Sort of” didn’t count.

“Yeah, well, I’d love a bike like that. Can’t afford it on a cop’s salary, that’s for damn sure. Already paid Jag out the nose for the one I have.” He turned to Diamond. “Tell your brother, if he builds a new one, I’ll consider buying the one he has now. Upgrade my ride.”

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. But Ivy bit her bottom lip to keep her thoughts to herself. Jag would be lucky to get a few cents a pound for the scrap metal that used to be his sled.

Then Ivy noticed her hand was still on Axel’s arm and Bella was staring at it with intensity. She raised her gaze to her sister. When Bella finally glanced up her whole body jerked causing Ivy to quickly pull her hand away and curl it into her chest.

She stepped away from Axel, taking the drawing with her. Once again she carefully rolled it up and slid the hairband around it to secure it.

She needed to get it back to church before Jag discovered it missing.

Suddenly, the door from the bakery’s kitchen swung open and Zak swaggered out. The man could certainly swagger. It was one of the reasons Ivy had a crush on him for so long. That loosey goosey hip movement and just his all-around badass coolness. But as soon as he noticed his estranged brother, he stopped and went solid.

Axel sighed loudly, his hands loosely resting on his duty belt. “Brother,” he greeted.

“Had that conversation before,” Zak muttered, stepping behind the counter, wrapping a hand around the back of Sophie’s neck and pressing his lips to her temple. “Babe,” he murmured softly.

Sophie smiled up at her ol’ man and laid a palm flat against his chest. “Axel’s here,” she said, her voice husky.

Zak’s gaze bounced to Axel then back to her. “No shit.”

“He did this thing with his tongue on a Key Lime cupcake and now we need to go upstairs for a few minutes.” She’d lowered her voice a notch but everyone could still hear her.

Both Axel and Zak made a strangled sound and their eyes met then slid away uncomfortably.

He stared down at Sophie, one brow cocked. “Right now?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

He lifted a shoulder. “You got it, babe.” Then he steered Sophie by the neck to the swinging door and flipped two fingers up over his head in sort of a badass wave as they pushed through it.

Ivy looked at Jewel, whose mouth was hanging open, and she doubled over in laughter.

“No shame in that game,” Diamond said, her words also choked with laughter.

Axel eyed up Bella. “You need to go somewhere, too?”

“Not with you. I can take care of myself.”

“Damn,” Jewel whispered.

“On that note, I have to go patrol my zone,” Axel announced, his eyes still on Bella.

“You do that,” she said.

Axel frowned at her, turned on his heel, and stalked out.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Diamond turned to Bella, “Girl, you’re crazy. There is no reason to take care of your own business when you have someone like him breathing down your neck. You ask him to drop to his knees, that man would do it in a second for you. I know those two are my blood cousins, but I swear their hips are double-jointed. You’re going to turn that action down? You’re a fool.”

“Let it go, Di,” Bella muttered, grabbing the tray of Key Lime cupcakes and sliding them back on the shelf in the display case.

“I’m just saying—”

Bella slammed her hands on her hips, her brows low, her eyes heated. “And I heard you. Enough.”

Diamond threw up her hands and huffed. “Fine. The day someone that looks like that throws himself at me like that, doing shit like that with his tongue... I’m not saying no.” Her gaze caught her sister Jewel’s. “You hear me? I turn someone like Axel down, just get my head examined. Or shoot me.”

Jewel snorted. “Will do. Long as I get to pull the trigger.”

“I’ll hand you the damn gun,” Di said, making her way out of the bakery.

Ivy waited until the bell above the door quieted, then looked down at the rolled-up sketch in her hand.

She needed to get the hell out of there and get back to church before the day went even more sideways.